#i use these posts to share my poetry that i don’t know where else to post it

[bowiesawizardmoony]

James: “the world has shown you such cruelty, love. take my hand, take my arm, take my heart, take any and all parts of me to heal what has been taken from you. i know what it means to be loved and i know that i am overflowing with it to give and you deserve to know what it feels like to be loved without bounds.”

Regulus: * on the verge of tears because no one has ever loved him so fearlessly and unconditionally before and he’s not quite sure what to say*

[honeekyuu]

stuck. [tsukishima kei x f!reader]

>>Tsukishima is the kind of best friend that makes you want to leave him, but you just can't bring yourself to.

or

You end up confessing in the middle of a fight and he fucks you to show you how much he really cares.<<

______________________________

tags: smut, fluff, angst, best friends to lovers, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, rough sex, alcohol/drinking, college au, tsukishima kei is a dick, drunk sex, unprotected sex (dont do that), creampie, dom/sub undertones

a/n: ahahahaha this was my first hq work posted on ao3, and it is everything Mean Best Friend Tsukishima Kei that i needed. i hope you enjoy!

[feel free to buy me a cup of coffee!]

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

“Okay, I’m done! How do I look?”

“You look like shit.”

You sigh, trying not to let him get to you. 

Tsukki’s always been this way - dismissive, nonchalant, indifferent. Through middle school, he’d been sarcastic. He’d been snarky and brutally honest. And in high school, he’d only gotten worse. 

Anyone else in your position might have left him already. People you’d known in school had told you to find someone else, a better friend. Best friends don’t treat each other the way Tsukishima treats you , they’d said. His teammates had been in the habit of scolding him whenever he’d go too far, whenever he’d push your buttons a little too hard. The only one who could see your side had been Yamaguchi, and even he’d had his reservations at times.

But other people don’t know Tsukishima Kei. They know the Tsukki that would refuse to share his notes with you after you’d been out sick. The Tsukki that would steal parts of your lunch and hold it high above your head, far out of your reach, and call you mean names with a cruel smirk. The Tsukki that would often leave you behind after school and head home without you, leaving you to text him and wonder where he’d gone.

They don’t know that the same person would show up at your house with his notes, walking you through calculus and poetry lessons himself because he knows you learn better with a teacher. And, even though you never called him out for it, he would show up the day you’d been out sick, too, just to check on you. Just to watch movies in bed with you, waving off your concerns about him getting sick. He hated being sick, but he would ignore your complaints and force you to relax - because you’d only ever get sick when you overworked yourself, which meant he hadn’t been watching over you closely enough. 

They don’t know that Tsukki would secretly swap your lunch out for his own - better, homemade food that wasn’t the cafeteria slop you were often forced to buy because your parents weren’t home a lot. He would watch you push the food around on your tray while you’d laugh at something Hinata had said, identifying at least 3 things you were allergic to on that plate. So he would reach for it, leaving his own (allergen-free, thanks to Akiteru) lunch open for retaliation while he’d use his height as a way to take out his frustrations on you - his irritation that you never seemed to put yourself first, choosing starvation over just simply asking your parents for money before they go out of town.

And the times he’d leave you behind - well, half the time, it had been an accident. It was impossible to remember your packed schedule, all your clubs and student council meetings lumping into a vague ‘ Y/n’s busy ’ block of time in his mind. The other half of the time, it was because he needed to be alone. It’s not that he’s an asshole and loves to make you suffer - in fact, he would often call you later the same night, apologizing in his own, special Tsukishima Kei way and explaining himself. He gets overwhelmed easily, overstimulated by too many people, too many responsibilities, too many social expectations. So he would disappear as soon as he was allowed, needing to be alone with himself and no one else.

So, the people in your life had known a different version of Tsukishima than you do. Where they’d seen a bully, cold and unrelenting even for his best friend, you’d known nothing more than an introvert, expressing his care in a way that was unrecognizable to anyone but you.

Care that had carried over into college, the last three years filled with a Tsukishima Kei that even you hadn’t expected. A version of him that walks you from the library to your dorm at night, despite his increasingly hectic volleyball schedule. A Tsukishima who calls you in the morning on his walk to class to make sure you haven’t overslept, because - even if the calls consist of nothing but your crabby morning disposition, berating him for pulling you from your slumber - he knows you’ll thank him later, as you often do.

A Tsukishima who lets you drag him to parties, even though he hates them to his very core. He lets you tug him along to your dorm, lets you force him to sit through the hour-long ordeal of choosing your outfit. Lets you spin in front of him when you’re done, clearly pleased with yourself, and ask him how you look.

Lets you throw a pillow at his face when he tells you that you look like shit, even if he wholeheartedly believes otherwise.

“Tsukki, can’t you say one nice thing to me? For once?”

He scoffs when you put your hands on your hips, turning his gaze back to his phone as he lounges on your bed like it’s his own. It might as well be, with the amount of time he spends in this room.

“That would require you to have something worth being nice about, wouldn’t it?” He smiles mockingly when he catches the irritated twitch of your eyebrow.

“You’re a dick.”

“Nothing new about that.” Tsukishima watches as you turn back to your closet with a huff, taking the time to look you over appreciatively. No , he thinks, his eyes lingering on the curve of your breasts and the way your dress hugs your hips, the material tight but soft. His hand itches with the urge to touch it, to find out for himself. It’s not that you have nothing. It’s that you have too much.

He sighs, sitting up, and runs his fingers through his hair.

You have too much, and it’s fucking annoying. 

His eyes flick to you again, his own irritation growing. You’d always been too good. Too perfect, too overwhelming. He’d hated falling in love. It had sucked. High school had sucked . Having you cling to him every day and finding himself clinging right back. Not understanding these complicated feelings he has - ones that want nothing more than to hold you in his arms, against others that would tell him to push you away with his sharp tongue, to protect himself from this terrifying feeling. 

And now that he’s accepted it - it had only taken him the entirety of high school and at least a year of college - he almost hates it more. Being so close to you and somehow still feeling like he can’t breathe because it’s not nearly close enough.

So he stands, shoving his phone in the pocket of his jeans, and stares you down when you finally turn back to him.

“Can we go? The sooner we get to this stupid thing, the sooner I can go home.” He thinks he sees a flicker of hurt flash across your eyes, but that can’t be it. He’s said worse things before. You always bounce back, a retort on the tip of your tongue for everything he could throw at you. You always match him, blow for blow.

So why, then, can he see your jaw clenching as you turn away from him? Why does he feel like you’re pulling your jacket off the rack with more force than usual? Why are you leaving without responding?

What the fuck ?

-

Fuck Tsukishima Kei . 

It’s the only thought in your mind as you down the shot, wincing as the alcohol slides down your throat. You’d lost count of the drinks you’ve had about an hour ago, when the thought had been something more like ‘ Fuck Tsukishima Kei. Stupid fucking idiot. Never thinks before he speaks ’.

Clearly, you’d mellowed out a little, but the anger is still there, simmering in your chest and threatening to rise every time he gets close to you.

The walk to the frat had been silent, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about your mood, only scrolling through his phone and occasionally glancing over at you. You’d felt the irritation crawling under your skin with every pass of his eyes over you, but you hadn’t returned any of his gazes, only looking forward to getting to the party and being with other people.

But he hadn’t let you wander off so easily, his tall form following close behind as you’d tried to find some of your friends from class. You can tell he’s been trying to silently check on you, like he always does when he knows he’s bothered you. 

He’d brought you drinks, only smiling emptily when you’d glared up at him. It shouldn’t have made your heart skip that he’d done nothing more than offered you a drink, tapping his own red solo cup against yours and matching you shot for shot. It shouldn’t affect you when he does the bare minimum. 

He’d danced close to you, one hand on your waist and his warm chest pressed firmly against your back. You’d hated it - feeling so safe in the arms of someone who had derived pleasure from picking on you your whole lives. And even if that’s not true - even if you only take into account all the ways that he’d taken care of you, celebrating all your accomplishments with you and holding you while you’d cried about your failures - you still shouldn’t be feeling that familiar tug of nerves in your stomach when he presses his hips against your ass, slipping his fingers through yours and pulling you close.

And when that hadn’t worked - when you’d held your ground and managed to cling to your anger from earlier - he’d even tried to talk to you about it. That isn’t normal for him by any means, but you could see the confusion in his eyes when he’d leaned down to be heard over the music, mumbling his question against the shell of your ear.

“Are we okay ?”

It had taken everything in you to resist him, to resist the pull that is Tsukishima Kei. The same pull that had kept you next to him all these years, through all the teasing and the poking. The pull that kept reminding you that he’s just bad at expressing his feelings. He’s just bad at being nice. He’s just bad at holding his tongue.

But that doesn’t mean you have to sit and take it every time.

So you’d only smacked his hand away and glared when he’d cupped the side of your face, trying to get you to look at him. Stomping over to the bar, you had asked the frat boy for a shot of something random. 

After downing it, you try not to look back but fail miserably - you might be pissed, but you’ve never been immune to him. You probably never would be.

Glancing back, you can see his blond head in the sea of people. He’s trying to make his way to the bar, but his head is whipping to the side at the sound of something. A tall guy - you recognize it’s someone from his team - appears at his side, clapping his shoulder, and you can only assume he’d heard his name being called.

They start talking, Tsukki seeming distracted but drunk enough to at least pretend he’s interested in the conversation. You look away just as he’s turning his head back to you - you won’t be caught looking his way again tonight.

Luckily, there’s someone stepping up beside you, catching your attention with their bright smile.

“Y/n?!” 

You blink, startled by the recognition. But when you finally see who it is, you can’t help but beam.

“Oh my God, Bokuto?!” You leap toward him, wrapping your arms around the man’s neck and dragging him into a hug. You feel him laugh against you, his arms sliding around your waist and pulling you in tight. When you step away, he keeps you close, hand on your hips.

“What are you doing here?! You don’t go here, do you?” 

The man shakes his head, grinning down at you and pointing over his shoulder.

“Nah, I’m just visiting a few friends over the weekend.”

You glance past him, seeing a group of boys that seem like they could be familiar to you, but you can never tell - Bokuto Koutarou is friends with everyone.

When you look back, you catch his eyes wandering down the length of your body, his gaze snapping up to yours when you clear your throat. He has the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, Y/n - You’ve just, uh… grown up a lot since high school.”

You flush deeply, something that makes him grin when he catches it. 

At least someone thinks I look good tonight .

You’re smiling flirtily up at him, feeling confident enough to drag this conversation out. He seems to notice, an interested glimmer in his eye. But then he’s glancing over your shoulder, and his eyebrows are raising in surprise.

A hand wraps around your bicep, much tighter than necessary in your opinion. You barely have time to spot the blond hair in your peripheral vision before you’re being dragged away. You can only wave at Bokuto, who looks a little disappointed but mostly just amused.

Tsukishima only lets you go when you’re outside, his hand dropping from your skin like you’ve burned him. You whip around to face him, more than ready to yell at him on the front lawn of this frat house. But he’s already walking away, in the direction of your dorm.

“Dude, what the hell? You didn’t even say hi to him - he’s one of your closest friends!” You stalk after him, determined to figure out what could possibly be going through his mind. But he won’t answer you, just shaking his head and mumbling something that sounds vaguely like ‘exactly ’ as he makes his way down the street.

You scoff, turning back to the frat. He’s out of his mind if he thinks you’re just going to follow him home quietly.

You start to head back to the party, but you barely make it five steps before his fingers are closing around your wrist and tugging you back to him. When you look up, enraged at his entitlement, you see that he’s incensed, staring down at you with wild eyes. He looks pissed, which he has no reason to be. But there’s something else there, something that’s contributing to this almost panicked anger sitting just below the surface.

“Tsukishima, what do you want?” 

He bristles at the use of his full name, golden eyes narrowing as he stares down at you.

“You’re going home.” He punctures every word with barely concealed irritation, finally turning and dragging you back down the street. You don’t say anything this time, feeling that previously mellowed out anger returning full force as you stare at the back of his head.

The walk back is just as silent as the walk to the party had been, but this time you feel ready to explode. You’d been annoyed before, bothered and hurt by his words and the way he treats you.

Now you’re just ready to pick a fight. Which means you’ll probably say something you’ll regret if you don’t get away from him soon and take some time to calm the hell down.

When you get to your door, you’ve already got your keys out. He’d let go of you in the elevator, finally realizing that he’d been gripping you way too hard. You might just be able to get inside without him following.

But the second you unlock the door and slip inside, not a word said to the blond as you try to shut the door behind you, his hand is slamming down on the wood. He stops your attempt, staring down at you with annoyance.

“You’re joking, right?” And then he’s pushing into your room with an angry sigh, letting the door swing shut behind him. You only step back, crossing your arms over your chest as you look him over.

“What do you want?”

“What do I wa- What is your problem tonight ?” He squints down at you, eyebrows furrowed. When you only raise yours, his jaw is clenching. “Why the fuck are you so mad at me?”

“Because-” You stop yourself, taking a deep breath in order to maintain some semblance of control. “Because you’re an asshole, Tsukishima-”

“Stop fucking calling me that, Y/n-”

“-and maybe I’m just not in the mood for your shit tonight!” You yell over him, clenching your fists against your body. You need him to go. You cannot let him see you cry.

“I’m always an asshole! How is tonight any different-” He’s taken a step further into the small bedroom, and you take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. You’re immensely glad you don’t have a roommate, so they don’t have to deal with the mess that is your friendship with Tsukki.

“Tonight isn’t any different, you dick. It’s the same as it always is. I’m just tired of it tonight.” You feel yourself growing angrier when he just laughs, throwing you a mocking smile as he paces the room. He’s definitely drunk.

“Oh, excuse me, I didn’t realize I needed to account for Little Miss Y/n’s fucking mood swings whenever I open my mouth-”

“What the fuck did you just sa-”

“I just didn’t take you for someone who’s sensitive-”

“Well, maybe I am, you fucking asshole! ”

You’re definitely drunk, too.

Tsukishima stops short, taking you in. He can’t hide the shock on his face when he sees you - the way your hands are shaking at your sides, the quiver of your lip as you try your best to stand up to him. You’re trying so hard not to cry, he can tell.

Wow, I really am an asshole.

“Y/n… I-”

“Did you really think I would still want to go to that party once you’d made it clear how much you didn’t want to go? That you think it’s stupid to hang out with your best friend on a Friday night doing something she wants to do - because your idea of a good time is so different from mine that you would try make me feel like a fucking idiot for it?” 

Tsukishima’s starting to panic - had he made you feel that way? He’d just been talking. He hadn’t even been thinking about how it would make you feel - he’d thought nothing could hurt you, that your friendship is guaranteed and that having you next to him is a given. 

Now he feels like he’s losing you. 

“Maybe, once in a fucking while , it wouldn’t hurt you too much to tell a girl she’s pretty when she’s just spent an hour trying to look good for you.”

The frustration on Tsukishima’s face drops, and he’s left staring emptily at you. 

That’s what this is about? 

He stares for a while, his eyes just flicking back and forth between yours as he thinks of how to take that. It makes you nervous. You’d said too much. 

“Fuck this.”

You blink, staring up at him in disbelief. What is that supposed to mean?

“What do you- mmh -” 

Tsukishima had crossed the room in just two steps, taking your face in his hands while you’d been preparing to yell at him again. And then he’d smashed his lips to yours.

Your heart jumps into your throat, and you let out a noise of shock, muffled against his mouth. Your eyes remain wide open, flitting in a panic over his features as you feel his lips move against yours. His brow is furrowing behind his glasses, and you’re realizing that you still haven’t kissed him back. You push against his lips experimentally, watching that wrinkle between his eyes all but disappear when he feels it, and you think it looks a lot like relief.

He’s nervous.

Your body moves of its own accord, hands sliding up his chest to grip at his shirt, and your eyes slide closed when you feel one of his hands fall to your waist. He nudges you backward, and you feel the hard surface of your closet door against your back.

Tsukishima slides his tongue against your bottom lip, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth when he feels you inhale sharply in response. He takes advantage of your surprise, pushing past your lips and brushing his tongue against yours. When you slide your hands up and around his neck, tugging at the hair there, he groans and leans down. 

Planting a hand on the door behind you, he angles his head, slotting his lips against yours. He presses his hips into you, and you can feel how hard he’s getting. You sigh into his mouth at the feeling, smiling when his body reacts to the sound, his cock hardening against your thigh. 

Tsukishima Kei might be impossible to read sometimes, but he never could hide from you.

He drops his mouth to your neck, latching onto a spot under your ear and using his other arm to pull you flush against him. The sounds you’re making are clear now, soft gasps and whimpers echoing in your tiny dorm room.

“So stupid… ” 

You barely hear him, too busy wondering why it had taken so long to feel his lips on your skin.

“The only person in the world that can see right through me, and you were stupid enough to believe what I said. ” He mumbles it into your ear, taking your earlobe between his teeth and sighing when you moan against him.

“You’re so mean…” Your breath catches in your throat when you feel his hand drop to your leg, pulling the fabric of your dress up slightly. He grips at the back of your bare thigh, brushing against your panties and kneading into the plush skin just below your ass.

“What were you gonna do, Y/n, go home with Bokuto?” Tsukishima all but growls the question against your neck, dragging your thigh up and wrapping your leg around his hip. He feels your dress slide up, feels your warmth against his jeans. He’s desperate to get out of them.

“Y-You called me ugly-”

“I never said that.” Yes he had. He knows he had. He just hadn’t realized you would take it to heart. Now he hates himself for even saying it. For pretending you aren’t the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen.

“Bo said I looked good… Figured I might as well go for someone who’s actually attracted to me…” You whimper when Tsukishima presses his erection against you, your thin panties useless against the rough fabric of his jeans.

“Does it feel like I’m not attracted to you?”

You breathe out a laugh, clinging to his biceps as he sucks another bruise into your skin.

“How was I supposed to know, you dumbass? You only ever say mean things, and I thought I could get over you by-”

“By what?” He’s getting irritated again at the thought of what could have happened tonight if he hadn’t brought you home. If he’d left you alone, like his brain was telling him to. If he’d given you space and just texted you in the morning. 

“You thought you could just fuck some other guy and get over me?” He lifts his head, grinning cruelly when you look up at him, your lip trembling. “Because I didn’t call you pretty tonight? Because you were tired of me being mean all the time?”

You nod, a gasp leaving you when he wraps an arm around your waist and hoists you up so you’re eye-level, slamming you back against the closet door and pinning you there with his hips. Your dress is bunched up around your stomach now, leaving Tsukishima with a perfect view of the wet spot on your panties when he glances down. His grin widens, an evil glint shining behind his glasses.

“But it seems like you like it when I say mean things, Y/n.”

You whine in protest, growing louder when you feel him rut involuntarily against you at the sound.

“This is different, Tsukki-”

“Is it?” He’s distracted when he asks, too busy steadying you in his arms so he can lift you up and away from the closet. Making his way to your bed, he drops you unceremoniously on the mattress, smiling when you yelp. He removes his glasses and leaves them on your bedside table, dropping to his knees at the edge of the bed and wrapping his arms around your thighs so he can drag you toward him.

You sit up, taking his face in your hands and pressing your lips urgently to his - even on his knees, he’s tall enough to be eye-level with you. You feel his fingers, long and calloused, drift up your thighs and hook into your panties while he nips almost affectionately at your bottom lip.

“Tsukki… ” You whisper against his mouth, but he’s quick to shake his head, mumbling back to you.

“Not that. ”

You’re a little surprised - you never really call him by his first name. He’d found it uncomfortable the one time you’d tried it as a joke. But if he’s asking, then-

“Kei .” His pulse quickens under your fingertips when you murmur against his lips, his kiss becoming more full, and you realize just how much he likes it.

You pull away and press kisses to his face, peppering them across his nose and cheeks. It’s a moment that’s far softer than either of you had had before, one that has Tsukishima’s heart beating a little too hard in his chest. 

God, he hates being in love.

He pulls away from you, planting one hand on your chest and shoving you away from him. You fall back onto your elbows with a noise of surprise, bouncing lightly on the mattress. Tsukishima only reaches for your panties again, tugging them down and smiling to himself when you lift your hips to help him. 

He throws them somewhere over his shoulder, refusing to break his attention. Planting his hands on each of your knees, he pries your knees open slowly, glancing up at your face for any signs of discomfort. When he finds none, his gaze flicks back down to what’s in front of him.

And then his breath is cutting short at the sight of you lying bare in front of him. You’re glistening, even in this dark room, and his cock is suddenly unbearably hard. 

He’d been thinking about this moment for far longer than he’d ever care to admit. 

“Well, isn’t this just the prettiest little pussy I’ve ever seen?” 

You throw your head back at his words, moaning loudly. 

“Oh, shut up.” You know Tsukki’s slept with his fair share of girls since you’d started college - being a popular volleyball player has its benefits. You’d done the same, hoping to squash down that jealousy in your own, twisted way. To hear him praising you like this - like you’d always wanted - has you clenching and squirming from the desire coursing through your veins.

“First you get mad because I’m too mean, and now you’re mad because I’m being nice?” He tilts his head, his voice mocking. “You really need to make up your mind.” 

And then, before you can let out some kind of snarky quip, he’s dipping his head and dragging his tongue over your slit in one long stripe. 

You gasp loudly and moan out his name, falling back onto the mattress as your hands fly to his head. You bury your fingers in his hair, tightening your grip when he does it again, licking through your folds before latching onto your clit, pulling the nub gently into his mouth.

He moans loudly against you when you mewl and pull his hair. The vibration on your clit makes you squirm, and you’re involuntarily rutting your hips against his face. He only laughs against you, his breath tickling your skin, and wraps an arm over your hips to hold you steady on the bed.

He pulls his mouth off of you, and you lift your head to look at him in annoyance. He smirks, holding eye contact while he brings his other hand to your folds. When he runs his fingers through them, stopping briefly to circle your clit, you whimper. And when he drops his middle finger to your entrance, nudging gently at it in question, you bite your lip and nod furiously, just wanting him to touch you already-

“Oh my- Kei-” Your head falls back when he slides his finger in and drops his mouth to your clit to suck on it. He sets his pace with his finger, thrusting into you and curling gently up toward himself, repeating the process until he can tell by your squirming hips that you’re starting to feel something.

And then he’s pushing another finger past your entrance, his cock twitching when you moan at the stretch. He’s been painfully hard for a while now, and all he wants is to be inside you of already. He doesn’t realize you’re feeling just as impatient, only noticing when your hands drop to his shoulders, tugging on his shirt.

“Kei …” You pout down at him, your eyelids fluttering when he thrusts his fingers into you again. His fingertips are brushing against a spot you’ve never been able to reach yourself, his fingers much longer than yours. You think you might become addicted to his hands soon. But you only pull again on his shirt with a whine, hoping he’ll get the message. 

Luckily, he does, because he’s pulling away to rip his shirt impatiently off his back, wiping his mouth with it before throwing it to the floor. He unzips his jeans as he makes his way up to the bed, pausing to scoop you up into his arms and tossing you closer to your pillows so he can climb on top of you.

When he pushes his mouth to yours, you’re moaning. He tastes like you, something he’s apparently proud of, because he’s just smiling against you and shoving his tongue past your lips. He drops his mouth to your neck again as he fumbles with his jeans.

“You taste so good, you know that?” He latches onto your skin, sucking harshly. “So much better than I’d imagined.” He pushes his pants just past his thighs, growing impatient. You gasp quietly when his cock brushes against you, the sound changing to a moan when Tsukishima runs it through your folds, sliding against you.

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes searching yours in a moment of astounding clarity given the insanity of this whole night.

“You sure?”

Your heart jumps when he asks. He’s got the tip of his cock nudging against your entrance, clearly holding himself back. But the way he’s looking at you makes you realize he wants this to be done right - after all, this had started with the two of you fighting. He doesn’t want you to regret this later and be even more upset with him.

He doesn’t want to lose you.

The idea that that’s what been hiding behind Tsukki’s eyes tonight - that vague panic that you couldn’t put your finger on - makes your heart sing and your stomach swoop with butterflies. You can only nod, cupping his face and bringing him down to your lips. His kiss is gentle and full of something that makes your nerves worse, something that makes you feel more than sure.

“I want this more than anything.”

Tsukishima’s heart skips, and he’s swearing softly against your lips. He hovers over you, keeping his mouth on yours as he presses his thumb against the head of his cock, guiding it past your entrance.

You gasp together as he pushes slowly into you, a moan pulled from your throat when he bottoms out and breathes out your name. The fog in your head - a mixture of alcohol, arousal, and nerves at the realization that you’re having sex with your best friend - worsens considerably when he drops his head to your neck, making an admission against your ear.

I’ve wanted this for so long …”

You whimper, curling your fingers into his hair and holding him close as he pulls out slowly just to slide into you again. You moan at the slow stretch, feeling his shaky breath against your ear.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you…” Tsukishima doesn’t know why he’s choosing now to have this conversation, when you very well can just talk about it after. But there’s a strand of fear twisting around the butterflies in the pit of his stomach, and his mouth is moving without his permission. He needs you to understand what this means to him.

“I didn’t know it would hurt you… I didn’t mean it…” His hips are still slow, moving languidly against yours. He’d expected this to be rough - sex is only ever rough for him - but he needs to concentrate on what he’s saying. And you feel so good like this, so warm and tight around him.

You’re having the same problem, your head completely empty as you feel him push into you inch by inch instead of all at once. You can barely hear him, your ears ringing and your skin overheating while you try to process that this is actually happening - that you finally have Tsukishima Kei the way that you’d always dreamed about.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry, Y/n.”

Your heart stutters when you realize what he’s been saying. Even with everything else going on right now - even as his hips are picking up the pace, even with his breath shuddering against your skin as he moans quietly in your ear - he’s distracted, trying to apologize. Trying to make things right between you.

“It’s okay…” You whisper forgiveness into his hair, but you feel him shake his head, his grip on your hips tightening.

“It’s not. I shouldn’t hurt you. Not you…” He gasps quietly into your neck, his hips stuttering momentarily before he returns to his previous speed. “S-Sorry… You feel really good… Trying to focus.”

You flush, clenching around him and pulling him closer when he groans. You think about what he’s saying. ‘ Not you ’?

You’re about to ask what he means, but he’s mumbling another admission against your skin, this one much more intense than the last.

“I love you, Y/n… So fucking in love, it hurts…”

You inhale sharply, your heart stopping in your chest. But then there’s a moan ripping from your throat, because he’s hitting a spot in you that you didn’t even know existed, the tip of his cock bumping up against something that makes the coil in the pit of your stomach twist harshly.

“I- fuck - Tsukki, I love you, too…”

Tsukishima lifts his head then, staring down at you with surprise written all over his face. You can only breathe out a laugh, moaning quietly while you giggle.

“What, you’re shocked? I just told you I almost went home with Bokuto just so I could stop thinking about you.”

His eyes darken at your words, and his hips are snapping harshly against yours. You moan in surprise, feeling your stomach flip at the way he’s looking down at you. He seems to remember now just how this night could have gone.

He sits up, knocking your hands away when you reach out for him with a whine, and pulls out of you completely. Slipping off the edge of the bed, he wraps his hands around your thighs and tugs you toward him roughly. He only smiles mockingly down at you when you slide across the mattress with a quiet yelp, pulling your hips flush against his.

When he slips into you again, the soft, caring Tsukishima is gone, replaced with the Tsukki you’ve always known. The one who has no problem running his mouth just to get to you.

“That’s it then, huh? If I hadn’t dragged you home, you’d be wrapped around another man right now?” He slams into you, watching with delight as you cry out and arch your back. He keeps this pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he drives his cock into you.

“Tsukki-”

“What did I tell you? ” His tone cuts through you, yanking hard on that coil in your navel and setting off a fresh flurry of butterflies.

“I- Kei -”

“You think you can forget about me that easily? You think I would let you?” 

You’re writhing under him, hands gripping your sheets tight as you gasp with each hard thrust of his hips on yours. The sight makes Tsukishima’s hips stutter, and he feels his orgasm coming on. He drops his thumb to your clit to push you closer to the edge, throwing his head back with a moan when you clench around him.

“Kei, please- feels so goo- ah- ”

“S-Shit, Y/n, I’m not gonna last… Where should I-” Tsukishima almost loses it when you claw at his hands on your hips, latching onto his wrists as you moan.

“Insi-Inside… Inside, Kei, please…” You look up at him, taking in the flush of his cheeks, the way his eyelids flutter when you clench around him. The way he bites down hard on his bottom lip and moans after a few seconds, breaking his hold on you so he can slam his hands down on the mattress on either side of you, his hair falling into his face as he pants down at you.

“Fuck -” He reaches down, brushing his thumb over your clit again. When you tighten around him this time, he’s letting out a choked gasp and your name, and you’re suddenly filled with warmth as his hips stutter, as he spills into you. He drops his head to your shoulder, his breath shaky as he thrusts into you, riding out his orgasm.

And when he’s done - when his cum is dripping out of you while you squirm, feeling full but unsatisfied - he sits up, pulling you against him again. He wraps his fingers around your wrists, smiling breathlessly when you cling to his forearms, and uses you as leverage when he draws his hips back and snaps them harshly into yours.

You cry out, feeling yourself throb the more he all but drags you down onto his cock and tries to draw your orgasm out of you. He releases your wrists, his thumb circling that little bundle of nerves while his other hand grips the back of your thigh, spreading your legs even further. 

When he changes the angle of his stroke, you’re gasping, unable to handle all of the sensations he’s causing in your body. There’s too much going on, too many feelings happening, each of which is bringing you closer to the edge. You slap your hands down over your face, trying both to muffle your moans and also hide your face, feeling embarrassed that your body is reacting so strongly to everything Tsukishima does.

He only coos down at you, his tone almost insulting.

“Oh, is my baby going to come?”

You whine loudly at his words, so rude but so endearing - your stomach swoops as the coil tightens, but you nod anyway. His low chuckle reaches your ears.

“Let me see you, then.” When you don’t respond, only moaning into your hands with each thrust, he clicks his teeth at you in annoyance. “Come on, Y/n. I wanna see how pretty my best friend looks when she comes on my cock.”

Tsukishima beams when that does it, your back arching as you cry out his name. You screw your eyes shut and fumble desperately for his hands. He slips his fingers through yours, holding tight when you come, your walls fluttering around him. He fucks you through it, inhaling sharply when you become impossibly tight, and then drops down over you when you're done, pressing his lips to yours.

You let out a sob against his mouth, your limbs heavy as you try to catch your breath. 

“Tsukki …” You wiggle uncomfortably, wrapping your arms around his neck and clinging to him. He laughs against your neck, pressing kisses to your skin. And then he leans up again, pressing his lips to your tiredly.

“Let me get you cleaned up.” He snickers when you whine but joins in on your soft gasp when he slides out of you, both of you sensitive. Stripping you out of the dress that’s been bunched up on your stomach this whole time, he leaves you on the bed, kicking his jeans off as he makes his way into your connected bathroom. When he returns, it’s with a wet rag and a gentle hand on your thighs.

Tsukishima scoops you into his arms when he’s done, setting you carefully against the pillows and climbing into bed with you. Your head is still empty, and you reach your arms out uselessly for him, mumbling his name. He only smiles, pulling you against his chest and kissing the side of your head.

“You okay?” When you nod sleepily against his chest, he smiles, tugging you closer. “Not too mean?”

You giggle, planting a kiss on his neck.

“I like you a little mean.”

Tsukishima snorts, shaking his head.

“I know you do. But still…” He meets your eyes, suddenly shy, his cheeks flushing. “I’ll be better from now on. Less ‘ toxic boyfriend ’ and more ‘ insufferable but still cute ’.”

You beam at his words, your heart skipping.

“Boyfriend , huh?”

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Oh, I’m sorry - I forgot you and Bokuto were basically married.”

“Oh, right, I should probably tell him the wedding’s off-”

“You’re a dick.”

[4pologygir1]

✶ BEAUTIFUL BOY ✶

spencer reid x reader | angst / hurt-comfort | 2.6k words

cw: post tobias hankel reid, established relationship, addiction/dilaudid abuse, needles mentioned, withdrawal symptoms, emotional distress, intense arguments, mean spencer but he isn’t mean he’s just struggling, themes of codependency, rehab mentions, recovery, brief mentions of vomiting… overall just pretty sad :( but it’s okay! he’s alright! oh and use of y/n.. (i know, i'm sorry!) basically reader loves him and gives him the support our guy SHOULD have had!!!

summary: he used to be all coffee spoons and poetry, soft hands and fast facts—but now he’s gone, and you’re searching. a fic about staying. about what it means to love someone through. heavily inspired by the 2018 film beautiful boy.

---

He hasn’t come home in three days.

You stop trying to sleep. You stop waiting for his key to rattle in the door. You stop wearing the sweater he left on the couch because it doesn’t smell like him anymore—it smells like dust and old coffee and panic.

You pace. You whisper his name to the walls. You turn your phone up so loud it startles you every time it buzzes, even when it’s not him. 

You leave the porch light on. Always. You tell yourself that it’s for safety, but it’s really a lighthouse. If he’s out there somewhere, maybe he’ll see it.

You check in with Garcia—clumsily, cloyingly, ashamedly. She tells you she’s worried too. She won't elaborate when you ask her if the rest of the team has noticed anything off about him.

You leave notes in bookstores, libraries, coffee shops:

He will sometimes send you funny emails. He prefers spaghetti over penne.

Have you seen my boyfriend?

Have you seen my beautiful boy?

Tell him I miss him.

You talk to strangers. You learn the faces of local street people by heart. You ask, gently, over and over:

Have you seen him? Tall, messy hair, talks fast, brown eyes like burnt sugar. Has anyone seen Spencer?

You start writing letters you never send.

I miss the way you talk when you’re tired. I miss how your hands fidget with receipts. I miss you. Please come home. Please be home so that I can come home to you. Where are you, Spencer? What can I do?

And when you finally sleep, you dream of him as a child, wandering around alone and calling your name like he’s the one who lost you.

---

When he returns, it’s like someone else is wearing his skin. His eyes are glassy and unfocused, the way they were after Tobias Hankel. But this is different. Less trauma, more...hunger.

“Hey,” you whisper. He flinches like the sound is too loud. “Where were you?”

Spencer shrugs, shuffling past you, eyes downcast.

You notice the tremble in his fingers, the way he scratches at his arm absentmindedly.

He doesn't want to talk. He wants to pretend. Pretend this is fine.

So you cook him spaghetti. You ask him about a crossword puzzle. You pretend, too.

But later, when you find the vial in his coat pocket, you stop pretending.

---

He gets mean. Not all at once. It isn’t immediate, It's little barbs at first. Corrections that feel more like punishment than help. Eye rolls. Disdain. Cold silence when you touch him. You start to feel like an intrusion in your shared apartment.

“You know,” he says one night, “for someone who reads as much as you do, you don’t really understand people very well.”

You stare at him, stunned. “Where did that come from?”

He shrugs, smirking to himself bitterly, eyes sharp like knives. “Just saying.”

You walk away. Not because you're mad, but because you're afraid you'll cry in front of him. And he's not him when he sees your tears these days. He twists them into guilt trips or throws them back at you like weapons.

But some nights, when he thinks you’re asleep, he holds your wrist like a lifeline. Murmurs your name in apology over and over again.

You keep letting him in. You love him. Even when it hurts.

---

It happens after he misses your anniversary. After you wait in a candlelit apartment for four hours with a trembling glass of wine and a heart that thuds with dread.

When he walks in at 3 a.m., he smells like motel soap and chemical sweetness.

“Where the hell have you been?”

He scoffs, dropping his bag. “Don’t start.”

“No, Spencer. I am starting. I’ve been quiet. I’ve been supportive. I’ve held you when you shook, and I lied to your friends, and I—”

“You lied to my friends?”

“You told me you didn’t want them to see you like this.” 

He throws his keys against the wall. You try not to react, but you can’t help but flinch. “God, you’re just like them! You don’t actually love me—you love some.. version of me that you made up in your head.”

“This isn’t who you are. This sickness. I know you, baby. I know my beautiful boy, and this isn’t him.”

He throws his hands up in the air. You notice the tremors. “You’re just embarrassed ‘cause I was like.. You know, I was this amazing thing, like, your special creation or something, and you don’t like who I am now.”

“I thought we were close,” you sob. “I thought we were closer than most girlfriends and boyfriends! Why?”

“I felt better than I ever had,” he spits. “What am I supposed to do? After that case… I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t think. I feel alive now. You need to quit trying to fix me and just let me be happy.”

“This isn’t us,” you whisper, chest heaving. “This is not who we are.”

He stands there, face twisted in something between rage and grief.

“This is me, Y/N! Here, this is who I am!”

You don’t have the chance to part your lips for your response before he shoots you down.

“What are you doing, huh? You always have to be controlling everything all the time!”

The next hour is spent with harsh words and strained yells confined by the walls that once held nothing but love and domesticity. You confront him about how your shared bank account is seemingly draining more and more each week. He tells you to go through your monthly subscriptions. That’s the moment it becomes even clearer. An alcoholic will steal your wallet and lie to you. A drug addict will steal your wallet and then help you look for it.

You collapse into a chair. You don’t look up when he storms out.

---

You wake up to an empty house.

You check every motel in Alexandria. Every street in Quantico. Every subway station in D.C.

You visit every needle exchange program in a 30-mile radius. You even try shelters, pretending you're his wife, or sister, or... anything that makes it easier to say please help me find him.

You carry a photo of him folded in your wallet. You hold it out like it’s sacred.

You tell stories about him to strangers:

He solves puzzles in seconds. He cuts his own hair. He can read seven languages. He cries during documentaries. He never matches his socks. He writes letters for me to wake up to when he leaves for work. He’s a good man. He’s just... sick right now.

It’s raining the night you find him.

He’s curled up outside a gas station, legs pulled to his chest, jacket soaked. You can’t tell if he’s crying or just drenched.

“Spencer?”

He blinks, slow and vacant.

“Oh,” he mumbles. “You.”

You kneel beside him. “Don’t move. I’m gonna take you home.”

“I don’t... I don’t think I want to go home,” he slurs.

You swallow your sob. “Why not?” You manage to say in a way you could only describe as weak.

“‘Cause you’ll hate me if I do.”

“I don’t hate you. Oh, I don’t hate you. I hate-” You can’t help but choke up, brushing strands of hair stuck to his forehead back. You force the words out anyway. “I hate what using has done to you. This- This anger, it isn’t my boy. It’s the drugs talking, don’t you know that? Because I do, Spencer.”

He looks at you like you’re a sort of savior, someone who will take this pain away. You catch your reflection in the car window as you carry him to the passenger seat. You look more like a confessional. Somewhere to voice your sins and be cleansed of them. Again and again. A seemingly endless process that you go through every other time you manage to find him.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he breathes. “I just want to be home.”

You press his head to your shoulder and wrap your arms around him.

“I know,” you whisper. “I know, honey.”

---

It's hell.

He shakes. He sweats through his clothes. He throws up until there's nothing left and still his body heaves. He cries. He curses. He begs you to make it stop.

“I can’t—I can’t—” he gasps one night. “Please, angel, please just a little—just one more time—I swear I’ll stop after, I swear.”

You kneel beside the bed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “No, baby. You know I can’t do that. God, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You say through his incessant begging.

He claws at his chest. “I’m dying.”

“You’re healing.”

He knocks a water glass off the nightstand, thrashing as he presses his fingertips into the dark, hollow circles of his eyes. “You can’t do this to me. Just—” He brings his hands down to his inner elbows, scratching.” “Give me some money. I can get it. I need it.”

“And I need you!” you cry. “I can’t give you any money, and you know I won’t. Where does this end, Spencer?

He turns his face away.

But later, when the sun begins to rise, he reaches for your hand.

---

The worst comes weeks later. He’s been clean. Recovering. Trying.

But relapse lurks. 

Days are spent writing on every online page you can find.

Fortunately, I have a boyfriend, my beautiful boy

Unfortunately, he is a drug addict.

Fortunately, he is in recovery.

Unfortunately, he relapses.

Fortunately, he is in recovery again.

Unfortunately, he relapses.

Fortunately, he is not dead.

This repetitive cycle doesn’t feel any easier now, only different. You miss his call at first—your phone is buried in the laundry. 

When you finally pick it up, your hands are shaking. Partially in fear that he won’t be your Spencer, but also sick with the dreadful thought that there may not be a Spencer anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispers. “I wanna stop... but please, please, please, please, please no rehab, alright? Just let me come home.”

You close your eyes, tears falling freely.

“You know what? I realized it’s actually—I need to be at work. Solving cases, helping people. That’s gonna give me the strength to stop. Alright?”

You breathe out. Steady. Gentle. Grieving.

“I wish that I could do that, Spence. But I can’t.”

The silence on the other end is soon ntrrupted by crackling as he shifts the phone in his shaky grasp. You can almost picture him outside, either laying on the dingy floor of a cheap motel room or sitting out on the steps of some old building. Waiting. Waiting for you to give in. Waiting for you to give him money. Waiting for you to leave. Waiting for his dealer. Waiting for it to kick in.

“Y/N…”

“I wish… I wish that I could do that for you, but I can’t. That’s not what you need, Spencer. You need to go somewhere where they can help you.” You sniffle, and hope he doesn’t hear it. “Help you in ways that I can’t.” You specify, keeping your voice level.

He sobs.

“I’ll go,” he says. “I’ll go.”

---

And he does.

It’s hard. It's awful. It's beautiful.

He writes you letters. You visit when you can. Sometimes you don’t talk, you just sit in the sun and read.

He begins to smile again—not often, but when he does, it reaches his eyes.

He comes home different. Softer. Clearer. Tired, but willing.

There are rules. He has a sponsor. You make tea. You learn how to build trust again, slowly, piece by piece.

Some nights, he wakes up crying. You hold him and don’t ask why.

Some mornings, he hums while brushing his teeth.

One afternoon, he cooks you spaghetti and laughs at his terrible sauce. And you know that he is coming back to himself.

---

He’s standing barefoot in the kitchen, hair damp from a shower, wearing his sweater with the fraying cuffs. There’s a cracked mug in his hand—lavender tea steeping slowly—and the sun is melting through the windows like honey. 

He doesn’t see you at first. He’s just standing there, staring at the steam.

You watch him for a moment. You memorize him again. The curve of his spine. The slight twitch of his fingers. The way he breathes deeper now, like his lungs finally remembered how.

He turns and sees you. His mouth tugs into a crooked almost-smile.

“This is the first morning I haven’t woken up already running,” he says, voice gentle again. “Like… my body wasn’t bracing for something before I even opened my eyes.”

You cross the room slowly and press your palm to the center of his chest.

“What does it feel like now?”

He looks down at your hand. Then back up at you. And he glows. Like dusk and childhood and safety.

“Like I can finally stand still. Like the noise of it all has quieted. And— And like there’s space inside of me again for something soft.” he whispers.

You lean into his chest, both hands tangled in his cardigan now. He wraps his arms around you. Holds you like you’re breakable and sacred and the last thing tethering him to this world.

“You saved me,” he murmurs into your hair.

You shake your head gently. “No. You saved yourself. I just left the light on.”

He kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

“I want a boring forever with you,” he says. “I’m tired of the battle. I want laundry and grocery lists and falling asleep on the couch. I want a whole life where you’re just... here.”

You smile, wet-lashed and aching. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted too.”

“Thank you. For not giving up on me, I mean. For loving me even when I was...”

You don’t make him ramble his way through that sentence. Instead, you slip your hand into his, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Do you know how much I love you? If you could take all the words in the language, it still wouldn’t describe how much I love you. And if you could gather all those words together, it still wouldn’t describe what I feel for you. What I feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything.”

He kisses you, slow and sure.

“Everything.”

You stand there a long time, swaying slightly in your own orbit. The kettle sings. The sun moves. The planet keeps spinning.

And for the first time in a long, long while—neither of you flinch. The world feels small and safe again.

—

a/n: i’ve always been drawn to stories where love is messy and awful yet still worth it. My first angsty piece… this fic isn’t soft, but it’s devoted. it’s about choosing someone repeatedly—even when it’s hard, even when it hurts. if you’ve ever loved someone who was falling apart, this is for you. if you’ve ever needed to be found, this is for you too. if you like this fic, i recommend watching the film that inspired it! ALSO there are DIRECT QUOTES from the film AND the memoir it is based around written into this fic! i do not take ANY credit for the phenomenal words of david sheff.

with all my aching, awfully sentimental heart,

winona.

[rivendellwatch]

FLUFF WEEK IS HERE PEEPS!!

IT IS TIME, MY FRIENDS! The banners are raised, the tea is steeping, the hobbits are bringing second breakfast, and we are about to embark on a journey of pure, unfiltered fluff!💛

From this day (29th of March) until the 4th of April, we are throwing angst into Mount Doom where it belongs and embracing love, softness, and cozy vibes instead!!!

Will there be forehead kisses? Yes.

Will there be sleepy cuddles? Absolutely.

Will characters be wrapped in blankets like little burritos, protected from all harm? YOU KNOW IT. ✨

This post being absolutely LONG and full of infos, click on the "read more" to get full access to it! And don't worry, this will be pinned so you won't have to go full Gollum looking for precious!

❓ Frequently Asked Questions – Fluff Week 2025 ❓

I want to make sure everyone has all the info they need! Here are some frequently asked questions about the event, how to participate, and what is (and isn't) allowed. If you still have any questions, feel free to ask!

💛 What kind of works are allowed?

All types of fan creations are welcome, as long as they center on fluff! That includes:

✨ Fanfiction (one-shots, drabbles, multi-chapter fics etc) ✨ Fanart (drawings, comics, doodles, digital or traditional) ✨ Moodboards, aesthetics, and playlists ✨ Edits, GIFs, and even memes! ✨ Poetry and headcanons ✨ Anything else creative, as long as it fits the fluff theme!

💛 Are “X Reader” fics allowed?

Absolutely! X Reader, self-insert, and OC-focused works are all welcome.

Everyone deserves to be wrapped in the warmth of their favorite characters! Just make sure the fic still fits the fluff theme and we're all good!

💛 Does it have to be romantic fluff, or can it be platonic/family-oriented?

Fluff is fluff! This event is NOT limited to romantic ships. You can absolutely write about:

💛 Found family dynamics 💛 Siblings, cousins, parent & child, friendship fluff 💛 General soft character moments 💛 Even pets getting some love! (Yes, we absolutely endorse fics about baby Eagles being doted on, or Elrond getting tackled by a million affectionate dogs.)

💛 What are the rules for ships?

While all ships are welcome, there are a few things to keep in mind: ✔️ Keep it fluffy! Even if a ship has a lot of angst or darker elements in canon, your fic must align with the theme of the event. If the ship has an inherently toxic or non-consensual element in canon, you must focus on a softer, kinder interpretation. ✔️ No ship-bashing. This event is a drama-free, ship-war-free space. Let people enjoy their fluff! ✔️ Tag properly. If a pairing is controversial or not widely popular, tag accordingly so participants can curate their experience.

💛 What is NOT allowed?

This event is meant to be a safe, positive space, so certain topics will not be accepted in the AO3 collection or event tag. This includes: 🚫 Anything non-consensual (rape, dubcon, etc.) 🚫 Bullying, harassment, or any abusive behavior (even if resolved in the story) 🚫 Heavy angst or tragedy without a happy/fluffy resolution (the story should leave people feeling warm and comforted!) 🚫 Gore, excessive violence, or horror themes (minor injuries are okay, but nothing graphic or distressing) 🚫 Explicit NSFW/smut (This is an event for fluff! Suggestive themes are fine, but the focus should be on softness and warmth, not explicit content.) 🚫 Dark/evil character interpretations that don’t align with the spirit of fluff (ex: no dark!Annatar manipulating Galadriel, no abusive dynamics reframed as romantic, etc.)

If any of these elements are included in a fic, it will not be added to the AO3 collection or promoted by the event blog.

💛 Where do I post my work?

📌 On AO3: We have an official Fluff Week 2025 collection! You can add your work there!!! 📌 On Tumblr/Twitter/etc.: Use the tags AND tag @rivendellwatch in your post so I can reblog and share your work!

💛 Reminder: To be reblogged and included, make sure to tag @rivendellwatch AND use the hashtags! 🌿 #FluffWeek2025 🌿 #RivendellWatchFluffWeek 🌿 #TROPFluffWeek2025

💛 What if I miss a day?

That’s totally fine! You don’t have to post every day—this is a fun, low-pressure event. Feel free to post late, skip days, or pick only the prompts that inspire you.

💛 I don’t want to write/draw, but I still want to participate. Can I?

YES! Cheer on your fellow creators, leave comments, share posts, and spread the fluff! Every little bit of support helps make this a warm and welcoming event!!

If you have more questions, feel free to ask!💛✨

I mentioned a funny "achievement system" for peeps earlier to have fun with, so here they are (you don't have to join it, this is just for FUN):

For Writing One Fic: "First Bite of Fluff" – You’ve taken the first delicious step!

For Writing Three Fics: "Third Time’s the Charm" – And oh, what a charming collection!

For Writing Five Fics: "A Handful of Happiness" – Five fics full of warmth and joy!

For Writing Ten Fics: "Fluff Legend" – Your legacy of softness grows ever stronger!

For Writing One Ship: "Love at First Write" – Because every ship needs a beginning!

For Writing Three Ships: "Fluff Sampler Platter" – A taste of many loves!

For Writing Five Ships: "Cupid’s Favorite" – You’ve spread romance far and wide!

For Writing Ten Ships: "Fluffy Fleet Commander" – So many ships, all sailing strong!

Here is a Bingo Card with prompts for you peeps, if you wish to use it!

Now, same for the achievements earlier! I created some for the peeps using the bingo card but like I said: this is for FUN and you do not have to join if you don't want to!!

There are 16 spots on the Bingo card so it goes as follows:

"A Single Hobbit Step" – Every great journey begins somewhere!

"Tookish Bravery" – You’ve dared to start, and that’s worth celebrating!

"Soft as a Shire Sunrise" – Your words feel like morning light over Hobbiton!

"Elven Whispers of Fluff" – Your writing carries the grace of Rivendell!

"Halfway to Lothlórien" – Five prompts in, and the golden woods await!

"Second Breakfast of Softness" – Because one serving of fluff is never enough!

"Cuddleworthy Like a Warg Pup" – Feral? Maybe. Adorable? Absolutely.

"Warm as Dwarven Forged Gold" – Your fluff is priceless and treasured!

"A Blanket from Lady Galadriel" – Your writing is a gift of comfort and light!

"You Shall Not Angsty" – Only pure, unfiltered softness here!

"A Hug from Samwise" – You’ve written so much, and it feels like home!

"Elrond’s Seal of Approval" – Even the lore-master himself acknowledges your fluff mastery!

"Softer Than Mithril" – Your words protect the heart like the finest silver!

"As Cozy as a Rohan Hearth" – The fire’s crackling, and your fics feel like home!

"King/Queen of the Cuddle Keep" – Your fluff rules over all Middle-earth now!

"Bingo Baggins, Master of Fluff" – You did it, you absolute legend!

Here they are!! Your soft, cozy, absolutely optional daily prompts!💖 You don’t have to use them, but if you’re looking for inspiration, they’re here to give you a nudge in the fluffiest direction! Whether you write, draw, make moodboards, or just daydream about the sweetness, it’s all welcome!🕊️

Use them as literally or loosely as you want—mix, match, or completely ignore them in favor of your own fluffy ideas! The goal is maximum softness and zero stress!!!☁️💕

I'll post 5 new prompts each day for you peeps!

Prompt 1: “Oh, you’re warm.” – Character A and Character B get caught in the cold and instinctively cling to each other for warmth. Bonus points if one is in complete denial about how cozy they are.

Prompt 2: Lazy Mornings – Character A wakes up to find Character B sleepily clinging to them, refusing to let go. Attempts to get up are met with grumbles, half-asleep negotiations, and possibly bribes involving breakfast.

Prompt 3: Braiding Hair / Fixing Clothes – Character A fusses over Character B’s disheveled hair or rumpled outfit, smoothing wrinkles, tucking loose strands, or absentmindedly braiding hair while chatting. Bonus if Character B secretly melts at the attention.

Prompt 4: “Hold still.” – Whether it's adjusting a scarf, patching up a tiny scratch, or brushing crumbs off their face, Character A is very hands-on with Character B. B is trying very hard not to blush.

Prompt 5: Accidental Nap Pile – Character A and Character B swear they were just resting their eyes for a second, but now they’re curled up together, blissfully asleep. Bonus if someone walks in and immediately regrets waking them up.

Here are the banners for those wanting to save them/use them already on their post sharing their works!

If you’d like to have your prompts, bingo cards, or anything else affiliated with TROP Fluff Week 2025, feel free to DM me! I’d be happy to add them to the posts so more people can find and enjoy them!!!

And that’s it for now, my fellow fluff enthusiasts!✨ If you have any questions, need clarification, or just want to scream about how cute your WIP is, feel free to reach out! My DMs and asks are always open!

Now go forth and create the fluffiest of tales! May your words be as soft as a Shire meadow, your headcanons as heartwarming as a Rivendell feast, and your angst levels appropriately low (this is FLUFF Week, after all)!!!💛🌿

[NB: The AO3 collection is moderated, so I’ll be reviewing submissions to make sure everything fits the event’s fluff-only theme!I’ll do my best to approve your works as soon as possible, but please be patient if there’s a small delay. If you have any issues or questions, feel free to reach out!]

Happy Fluff Week Everyone!!!!🧁

[cecilscribbles]

not my usual kind of post!! this is an essay i wrote in response to word getting out that i think That Triangle is hot. umm it's a little messy but i had fun writing it so im sharing it anyways ;^^ have a look under the cut if so inclined 👇

Foreword

I’m a little obsessed with eroticism.

It’s in a strange, abstract, almost detached sort of way, the same way I like poetry, or psychology. The same way people look at those “magic eye” pictures, you know the ones; it’s something I want to pick apart and look at from every angle to see how it ticks, to see how pictures or words or electrical signals and patchwork hallucinations can come alive in our hands and in our minds. It really is a sort of magic to me - but I want it to become a science. I want to know exactly how and why something clicks, something works. I want to know what makes something real.

Unfortunately, I do not feel quite as clean and clinical when it comes to a certain, jazzy triangle.

Introduction

Thanks for not immediately clicking away.

Yes, I’m one of those people. Yes, I’m attracted to Bill Cipher in more ways than one, yes, I’m aware he’s a triangle, I get it. He is so far outside the bounds of what’s considered conventionally attractive to the average person, I do understand the confusion; but I’m most definitely not alone in this stance. Alex Hirsch himself brought this up and gave his own opinion on what makes Bill so alluring to certain individuals:

but it’s not just kids. And this definitely isn’t an open-and-shut case with a simple answer. So here’s my attempt at getting to the bottom of the intangible, untouchable aura of Bill Cipher.

This essay contains discussion of Gravity Falls and Bill himself as well as dark fiction, the human psyche, and of course, of a sexual nature.

Let’s begin at the only natural place to do so: the tip of the iceberg.

Horror, erotica, and the strange but undeniable tie between the two

And here’s where I begin throwing rocks at my glass house.

Fear and arousal are the same thing to me. If you are unfortunately not me, they’re at least very, very close. Something similar was said by Cipher himself in the relatively newly released Book of Bill:

Admittedly he’s speaking as the victim and perpetrator of abuse here, but maybe he was onto something.

Both of these states of body and mind share many similarities. They have roots in deep-seated, almost animalistic emotions and driving forces, they induce symptoms like elevated heart rates and quickened breathing, and they’re linked with the hormone adrenaline; They give you a rush. They’re intense, can be overwhelming at times, and they induce unsolicited physical and psychological reactions.

Most of all, they evoke risk and the unknown (what’s more mysterious than infinite knowledge held behind a single, all-seeing eye?) and power. (what does Bill crave most, along with attention, which can also be gained from this?)

They’re silly little human quirks that are painfully easy to use to your advantage. Bill would - and did - adore bending them to his whims. And maybe we would get a kick out of being on the receiving end. Let me explain; the thing about a relationship with Bill is that each person holds every level of power over the other. You must be one of the greatest things in the multiverse considering he chose you specifically as his next acolyte. He treats you as an equal, despite being a god himself - but he’s still a god. You’re a mere speck in a vast, uncaring universe, sitting next to a being of pure energy, the lone survivor of the euclidean massacre, the one eyed king, etcetera. You really don’t compare to him at all. The way he interacts with other people, you or otherwise, has infinite possibilities, and is therefore infinitely compelling. Bill is at his best when he has someone else to bounce off of, whether he’s towering above or cowering beneath them. Furthermore, I think everyone has a small part of them that wants to belong to someone completely, or have a god as their equal, or even their inferior. We’re naturally curious. We want to understand and experience crazy, wicked things like leading lives of crime, or ruling the world, or letting go of all our morals and just having fun (that, or this is just a me thing and now I look even more deranged than I already did). Which serves as a perfect segway into the next point I want to make.

Dark fiction, and Bill’s self-proclaimed reality

I love dark fiction a lot of the time, since it allows me to explore concepts and situations that are harmful in the real world from a safe and comfortable distance, as well as having fantastical elements mixed in to sweeten the pot. It can broaden your horizons and give you a well-rounded perspective on life, meaning you can sympathize with experiences and feelings that aren’t your own, and ensure you don’t get wrapped up in echo chambers. But I’m not going to pretend these are the only reasons I enjoy darker content.

A lot of the time, I enjoy these things simply because they’re dark. I like putting my favourite characters in the worst situations I can imagine. I am very much eating your dead dove. “Whump,” as it’s commonly referred to in fandom spaces, is incredibly captivating and can be fun to think about. The world of fiction is a place where we can let our strongest urges and strangest desires run wild. It’s a place with no consequences. And this is the very clear divide between my - and maybe our - coping mechanisms, and Bill’s.

We use stories and characters as a way to step into someone else’s shoes for a while, but Bill seems physically incapable of removing his. He’s so wrapped up in his own delusions, his own perception, how he thinks his story should go that he’s lost touch with reality almost completely. He refuses to change or listen, and stays trapped in his negative habits and behaviours. This is also what separates him from the rest of the main cast and what ultimately leads to his downfall.

Going back to what I said earlier, Bill nurtures this little seed of chaos in us, this voice that tells us to step on other people, to start fights, to completely let ourselves go. He lures people into his cycles of abuse, offering a drink and a seat beside him as he watches the world end. It’s his world now. And here, there are no consequences.

Unfortunately for him, the reality he’s attempted to build for himself is fickle. It doesn’t work. He does fail, he does have feelings, he does hurt people; but the idea of a place where you can have everything you could possibly want, free of charge, sounds appealing to all of us.

How does this answer our question?

To finally give my personal judgement on this matter: I think people find Bill Cipher so enthralling because of the mystery that his physical form is shrouded in (we have very little idea of how his anatomy works, it’s easy to hide expressions when you lack a face, etc), the thrill we get when faced with something alien and otherworldly, and the quintessential human desire to do whatever we want. He’s a deep, complex character that’s easy to get lost in. And even though he’s positively despicable, he represents that dark corner in all of our minds. Finding the idea of his company or his partnership desirable is only natural, I of anyone should know - but whatever you do, whatever fictional favourites of yours you run through the wringer - try keep it between you, and Archive Of Our Own.

Thanks for reading. Stay weird.

[wats-am]

5, 8, 10, and 11 for fandom asks? :]

Thanks for these, buddy! I’m sorry, I meant to answer them last night, but my brain was a soup. I’m also probably going to keep my answers mostly within the Askewniverse, because that’s all my brain has room for right now, apparently.

5. Something you see in fics a lot and love: Jay and Silent Bob sharing a bed for little, or no reason, other than wanting to be close to each other, and then the yearning kicks in. Jay and Bob meeting up with Bethany, post-Dogma, always sweet. Bob being bilingual (English/Russian). Bob using sign language, or a notepad to talk to Jay, implying that he can’t always speak verbally when he wants. Bob being into poetry. It seemed to especially be a thing in the pre-Strike Back days, for fanfiction to portray Bob taking Jay off the streets to live with him, or Jay and Bob both being homeless and building a business together, eventually making enough to rent a flat.

8. You hope more people will come to appreciate __ (a ship, a trope, an episode, etc): The Askewniverse ladies in general. Particularly Veronica, Emma, Tricia and Alyssa, because they are my favourites, but really all of them, because they all deserve more love. Also, in terms of Askewniverse films, I really like “Zack and Miri Make a Porno”, even if Kevin doesn’t. Just for Lester and Stacey shenanigans, if nothing else. It may not be the funniest, or smartest, but I still think it deserves another look.

10. A blog (mutual, or one you follow) that has made your fandom experience brighter: This is hard, because I’ve met so many cool people through different fandoms. Some I still speak to, some I don’t, but still think if fondly. I don’t want to miss people out, but right now, I want to name some blogs who were super important to me in my early fandom days. @mizzmellos, literally my first friend when I joined tumblr, I actually joined just to follow her Death Note blog. An inspiring artist and literally one of the smartest people I know. We are still friends today. Then, when I started watching “Deep Space Nine”, I met a ton of cool people, but the two I became close with were @corpse-of-bandersnatch and @vortaesthetic. Corpse, I actually met at Destination Star Trek, along with some other then mutuals, and they were lovely. Vorta and I haven’t spoken since I moved to different fandoms, and I’m not sure how active they still are, but they are so creative, and wrote all sorts of awesome fanfiction and headcanons for the character of Weyoun, and the Vorta race. They were great to talk to. I hope they are doing well. Then, when I moved from Star Trek towards Blakes 7, I met even more creative people. @ruth-dw @mrs-underhill22 I met at Maximum Power, and had a blast. Also, @foreignobjecticus @hadescavedish and bunn1cula who’s blog I sadly cannot find, at least under that name, where all super welcoming and supportive. Blakes 7 has one of the most dedicated and smart fanbases I’ve ever seen. I regret not having been active there for a while, but I don’t think it’s a show, or fandom I’m ever going to leave behind, as with those above.

Baby Wat with @corpse-of-bandersnatch at Destination Star Trek. Would you believe I had never taken a selfie before?

Slightly less baby Wat (as Kerr Avon) with @ruth-dw and @mrs-underhill22 at Maximum Power, posing like Charlie’s Angels.

11. If you’re a writer, or an artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?: Believe it or not, as much as I like my fics for the fandoms I’m more active in, I think my best written fic is the little “Outsiders” oneshot I wrote. It just came very easily, and I think it reads easily. I think I tend to overwrite, but not with this one. I was fixated on the idea of butch!Johnny Cade secretly dating Marcia, so I had to do something.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48317506

As for fanart, I think it’s probably the girl!JayBob mini comic I made a little while ago. The art is nothing special, but I think it’s cute and fits together nicely.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64103860/chapters/164476228

[pureforestspirits]

➛ IF THE ATWOW CHARACTERS HAD TUMBLR

featuring! tsireya, lo’ak, neteyam, kiri, ao’nung, rotxo!

just for fun. i couldn’t decide if i wanted to make this a human au, or keep them na’vi… so it’s a mix of both!

TSIREYA - @reefprincessreya 𓇼

she has the most beautiful, aesthetically-pleasing layout you’ll ever see.

username: “reef” because she loves the sea (duh), and “princess” because it’s really pretty + feminine, and she literally is a reef princess after all. finally, her cute nickname “reya”, where the alliteration makes her url extra catchy !

her bio would totally have some beautiful quote.. like, “the way of water has no beginning and no end.” ;)

tsireya does it alllllll. she has her personal tags that she puts on every post to keep organized, and she’ll spend hours on her new themes.

╭ @reefprincessreya

┆sooo happy! our brothers and sisters have

┆returned today, and i finally saw my spirit sister

┆again! she is healthy and well <3

╰ #reya’s life ˚୨୧⋆｡

unlike the rest, who prefer the more private feel of their blog, tsireya shared hers with all her friends who all consistently use tumblr together!

LO'AK - @yooooitsloak

username: he just typed in the first thing that came to mind. 

lo’ak literally made a tumblr account just because of tsireya. 

it’s almost a ghost blog, but he at least took the time to add a pfp (which is a photo of his fav pair of sneakers). 

lo’ak likes every single one of tsireya’s posts. even if there’s only 1 note; it’s lo’ak. 

(we love a supportive boyfriend)

NETEYAM - @burntouteclipse ✰

neteyam is the ultimate aesthetic, educated and sophisticated king for liking tumblr by himself ✊🏻 (no shade to lolo though). like ‘reya, he also has a clean, aesthetically-pleasing layout, but it’s more masculine.

username: just sounds cool, y’know? he also works his ass off and is “burnt out” after all (perfection and golden-childism ain’t easy), and eclipse is just a time of day neteyam really enjoys where he gets to relax and spend time for himself. 

neteyam doesn’t complain much in real life, or let out a lot of his feelings. tumblr is like his peaceful, personal, private corner where he can speak his mind, which he really appreciates. 

i can see him reblogging and following fashion accounts that he likes, as well as occasionally posting a little ramble. ‘teyam’s page is scattered with some little thoughts and feelings here and there between reblogs of cool streetwear clothing and artistic photos/photography (for human neteyam). 

you’ll see him and tsireya interact with each other on occasion! 

╭ @burntouteclipse

┆ accidentally hit my knee earlier today,

╰  and now i can barely run properly. shit

⠀ ╭ @reefprincessreya

⠀ ┆ oh no! i’m sorry to hear. hope you

⠀ ╰ ➤ will feel better soon, ma ‘eylan! ♥︎

⠀ ╭ @burntouteclipse ☆ Original Poster

⠀ ╰ ➤ thank you tsireya

if there’s a girl he likes, neteyam’ll try and see if she has a tumblr. he’ll eventually find it, and enjoys scrolling through her posts + loves reading her little rambles. but he does it from a distance, and doesn’t interact (you’d never know. he’s the epitome of secret admirer). . .

KIRI - @atokirina333 ❀

username: kiri’s a spiritual gal, what can i say? not to mention, she was named after the atokirina, so it’s perfect. there’s also angel numbers!! ofc!!! ps: this url was taken at first, but she tracked down the person and convinced them to give it to her. somehow. 

unlike neteyam who writes ‘n posts small things sometimes… kiri can rant here. don’t get me wrong, she’s not posting paragraphs, but she definitely lets loose when she wants to.

human kiri posts her plants, her crystals, her music vinyls, the desserts she likes baking, her books and posters, literally anything and everything you’d find in her room because it’s all pretty.

what else would you see on her page? poetry. reblogs of quotes and aesthetic photos, and especially pretty photos of nature (kiri and ‘reya’s tumblrs are similar in this sense)!

she and tsireya reblog each other very often! 

AO'NUNG

"what's tumblr?"

ROTXO - @justrotxo

username: he’s just rotxo! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ though when he first joined, his @ was originally “reefboyrotxo”, but he (jokingly) got called out for copying tsireya, so he changed it.

hm, tbh, i don’t really see him as an avid tumblr user!

i have a headcanon that human rotxo'd be a surfer though, so i feel like he’d probably have 1-2 posts of a beautiful sunset + his surfboard, and like one post of a random thought he had. that’s it. his theme would also be blue/teal. 

i feel like he would’ve gotten tumblr because of his friends, and goes on just to see all of their posts. 

he interacts with/likes the posts of everyone in his circle! :) 

. . .

AO'NUNG (continued)

“what’s tumblr?”

it’s a social media app. your sister likes using it.

“oh, ok. whatever.”

neteyam sully uses it too. oh, and his brother lo’ak.

ao’nung is already intrigued at neteyam, but when he hears lo’ak is on there? oh boy.

he immediately signs up, and then gets all of his friends to as well.

soon, lo’ak is flabbergasted at the sudden flood of random anonymous troll asks he receives on his empty blog. 

ao’nung was going to anonymously send something to ‘teyam as well (obviously not to lo’ak’s extent), but after finding and looking through it… he actually secretly likes neteyam’s blog.

after everyone find out it’s him, he still eventually just keeps his tumblr to continue messing with the sullys, and his sister. popping in with a “DELETE THIS 🔥🔥🔥” to show he’s indeed still there, once every few eclipses. 

╭ @reefprincessreya

╰ ➤ ao’nung. rä’ä.

the end!

╭ @pureforestspirits

┆heyy! thanks so much for reading <3  

┆fun fact: i started writing this in my notes

┆app one day at like 4am. the sleep

┆deprivation was worth it, i think.

┆it was really fun to make LMAO

┆

┆all interactions are muuuch appreciated,

┆since i’m still pretty new to posting. thank u!

╰#✺ ࿐ ۫ 

  6 notes  wink wink

© 𝒑𝒖𝒓𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒔.

[the-cookie-of-doom]

Hiii

I remember when you were posting about your Kim/Wik Twins AU and I was so hooked! There’s so much potential for angst in this AU😩🤌 I always wondered if there was anything new going on with this WIP.

PS: I’ve been following your blog for a little while (I don’t interact bc im shyy) and I love all your Kimchay WIPS and little excerpts you’ve blessed us with (they make my day everytime I see one). So I want to personally thank your brain for all these wonderful ideas and just thank you for being you 😊

send me an ask and I'll tell you about one of these WIPs!

Oh anon, you're a darling! This was so nice to wake up to <3 I actually haven't worked much on that AU since originally posting it, but you're right, there is so much angst potential in this AU between Wik and Kim. One of the inspirations from it actually came from World of Warcraft, and how the character Varian was split into two people, the other one being Lo'Gosh. I really loved how it wasn't just "this is the good side vs. the bad/feral side." Varian was polite and charming and good at socializing, but he was also vain and easy to manipulate (which was the point of splitting him), whereas Lo'Gosh was definitely a barbarian, but he was also all of Varian's strong will and ambition/motivation, and passion. I hadn't seen that kind of character splitting before, because it's usually an easy shorthand for doing a good/evil thing.

So for the purposes of this fic, Kim isn't just all the evil mafia while Wik is the sweetheart singer. Wik is very driven and tbh a little selfish, he's kind to his fans but ultimately very cold, because he grew up in a world where anything he cared about could be used against him. Both of them are still calculating in clever, but it's Wik that begins investigating Chay, intentionally using his stardom as an in, and purposefully manipulating him to get more information. He takes it to a stronger degree than we actually see from Kim in the show.

Whereas Kim is the quieter, more contained side. They both love music but Kim prefers guitar/piano over singing because he doesn't want to draw attention to himself the way Wik does, although he does write a lot of poetry/lyrics. One of the betrayals from Wik leaving is that he stole Kim's songs. The other is that he left Kim behind. He loves his brother more than anything, and Wik leaving him without so much as a goodbye was devastating for him.

Here's your slightly less than 500 words!

“You left me!” “Would you have even come with me?” Kim’s voice breaks on a desperate, “Yes!” He wants to take it back as soon as the word leaves his mouth, too honest in the heat of his moment, chest heaving with the weight of it. The only good thing about the admission is that his brother is too stunned to reply; Kim takes satisfaction in that, in the implication of it, as Wik realizes the depth of his own selfishness.  “Kim…” “I would…” Kim swallows. Days of captivity have left his throat dry. It hurts, speaking these words aloud, tearing them out of his chest to release them after all these years. “I would have. If you asked me to, I would have.”  He would have followed his brother anywhere. They were always meant to be together. Kim and Wik, two halves of the same whole, mirror images down to their names. Until Wik decided he couldn’t bear his own reflection anymore.  “Kim, I’m sorry, I didn’t know—” “How could you? You only ever think about yourself.” Kim laughs. It’s wet. It hurts, like everything else about this damned conversation. Maybe Wik was right; they were better off alone. “I thought you knew me better than anyone, but you don’t know me at all.” Maybe Wik never did. What a horrible time to realize how truly alone he really is.  Wik doesn’t speak for a long time. Neither does Kim, keeping his head bowed and his breaths measured, cracked ribs aching with every rise and fall of his chest. What a cruel joke that the first time they’re sharing a space in years, something Kim has longed for since the day Wik left, and it’s only because someone else has forced them together.  “I don’t think you would ever leave the family,” Wik eventually says, his voice quieter than Kim has ever heard it. “You’re not like me, Kim, you never wanted to leave.” Of course he didn’t. Why would Kim ever want to leave his brothers? But at least if he had, Kinn and Tankhun would have had each other. They wouldn’t have been alone, not like Wik is now. Not like Kim is, forever missing his other half. Neither of them were meant to be alone. "It doesn't matter anymore." "Yes it does. Kim. I never meant to hurt you. I—" But there's no more time to talk because their captors are walking in, and Wik is throwing himself in front of Kim, both of them bound and unable to put of any kind of fight. Not that it would have mattered; Wik already got himself kidnapped. Too nosy to stay out of the family completely, but apparently the idealistic fool didn't bother to keep up with his martial arts. Still. Despite blaming him for the current predicament, Kim is a little bit touched that Wik is trying to protect him now. Too late to matter, maybe, but it's something.

[ice-devourer]

YOU FOOL

pairings: akutagawa/atsushi (sskk)

synopsis: morning after chapter 110 where aya saves everyone without suicide and they all survive thank you i know it's canon.

note — this came to me while i was vaping for breakfast at seven in the morning, i’m gonna be using some lines from an incoming (devil knows when) sskk art and my poetry entry in uni bc it has been about sskk from the start anyway so. cr. for divider here. might cross-post on ao3 idk yet.

cw: implied smut ig but like implied implied idk man no in and out is actually described???

there’s warmth trapped inside atsushi. he can feel its movement like a burly beast. that's how he deranges the order of reality. what’s beneath above and beside ruined through one breath. his breath. it's like a new sound is invented. and akutagawa listens in a trance and what's left outside after contact is insensible, not a single thing as urgent as holding him, ingesting every single particle—every matter that brings itself to his fingers. collecting themselves under it like dusts of light.

atsushi, and his parted mouth. atsushi, and his sweat-streaked neck. atsushi, and his heated skin. Atsushi, and his eyes that tell him that he doesn’t need him to be good—to live good, despite growing a kindness in his sickly heart that no one else could create.

Atsushi who’s a promise, in himself, that dreams will always fall short of these moments.

And these moments, that soften and soften as their movements slow, nose against cheek, palm against chest. lips easing the ache in the other.

they hold each other, close their eyes holding each other. they never said ‘i love you.�� but really, after everything else—did they really need to?

then sunrise comes.

you. you. you.

this falls in and out, in waves, in melodies, in a small tremor between his shut lips.

while lines, forms, silhouettes gather in the small slit of his fluttering eyes—the violet-grey grains discoloring the walls, the misshapen sheets. then more nuanced senses awaken, there is atsushi’s chest, rising with warm breaths that crack open more of the indulgent fatigue hugging his body.

akutagawa’s thinking looses its restraints, he could say just about anything, right now. he could mean just about anything he says right now. and that's not what he’d always like, if he’s honest, but he's unlearning the resistance to tender things. tender, in the way that soothes. tender, in the way that bruises.

“jinko,” he breathes into the nape of atsushi's neck. one, two times, “jinko, it's morning.”

atsushi stirs, feeling akutagawa’s chin lodging between hus collarbone, “mm, what, already? wait, what day is it today?”

akutagawa sighs.

“even my boss cancelled all operations for at least a week, so you can shut up about work for longer than that.”

“well, thank you for kindly sharing with the class akutagawa—”

“you just saved the world, you just saved me. rest, jinko,” he interrupts, pulling back to tug on atsushi's shoulder as he complies, rolling over to face akutagawa, “and one more snarky remark and i’ll shut you up myself”

heat rushes to atsushi's face, and akutagawa realizes what it could mean. the weretiger is more expressive than he thinks he is.

“with rashomon, i mean, i’ll shut you up with rashomon.”

atsushi glances away with a small laugh.

“honestly, rashomon did a lot worse to me, so that's pretty mild but okay—” he glances back at akutagawa, saying in a teasing tone, “— i did just save you.”

he grumbles, “don’t push it, jinko.”

“but i love it when y—i mean, it's kinda funny, you know?”

“that i’m annoyed?”

“you don't look that annoyed, akutagawa, even when you say you are,” that's not actually funny exactly, it's more of. . .endearing. but atsushi can't say that just yet.

“just be quiet,” akutagawa averts his eyes, before looking into atsushi’s, before wrapping an arm around the weretiger’s waist as his cheek plants a soft kiss on and stays on atsushi’s bare chest, “let’s rest together, i’m tired.”

then he's there, dismantled on him, the weretiger’s heartbeat filling his ears in rivulets. he hasn't forgotten how cruel this borrow life can get, but he understands strength better.

because he knows, no matter how hard this gets, when he looks up at the corner of the room, when he drinks in atsushi’s sunlight-illuminated frame and he calls his name—he can endure it all. this is how he can endure it all.

“i resent you,” he mumbles, deep in thought and tucking himself into atsushi.

atsushi’s irises drift up to the upper corner of his lids, brows raised and mouth open almost in a small smile—akutagawa always knew how to start a sentence right. right and gently. “i see, is that the end of your sentence or. . .?”

it hits the mafia’s rabid dog a little too late, “god, you’ll never hear me say that again.”

“before, i mean. but i hoped too, that if i would die, it would be by your hand. by your side. now, i stupidly hope to live the same way.”

i don’t know what you’ve done to me, akutagawa wants to say but he doesn't.

i don’t know if i deserve to give you that reason, atsushi wants to say but he doesn't.

“still calling me that, you fool?”

“yeah, yeah,” atsushi inhales his laughter in, finger ghosting his under-eye, “didn't really even try to hope that i will, you damn lawnmower.”

“if i’m the fool, let me do the foolish things—don’t ever leave me again.”

[1moreff-creator]

Is anyone still trying to figure out the final code on the MV? The one with (the world of abnormal sentiment dances)? No judgement, I have no idea what's going on with it either, but I'm surprised there's so little discussion of it. I’m making this post to share some observations, and some of the things I’ve tried as I go insane over this MV. Warning, don’t expect anything too revolutionary.

+First, the code doesn't have a direct parallel in the original LGI MV, so no clues there.

+But I did find something possibly peculiar. You know the "find the 'n'" bit that shows up right after it? Well, it's lifted straight from the original LGI video, but the symbol you're supposed to find there is somewhere else.

That's the equivalent from the og LGI.

And there's the n. It's in a completely different spot, which makes me wonder if it's somehow related to the code. The n does pretty much coincide with a number of the images. Here's a transcription of the numbers, with the numbers related to the n in blue (you should still check I didn't fuck anything up though). Italics and bold means I'm not completely sure about the number.

1 4 6 3 1 4 8 4 2 6 8

1 7 3 7 4 1 0 2 0 1 4

3 0 3 6 4 5 1 1 7 5 9

2 3 3 6 8 6 3 6 2 7 8

9 3 0 4 0 4 9 2 3 7 4

3 0 8 2 4 3 6 7 7 2 0

6 9 7 0 5 2 1 7 3 2 6

&

4 3 6 0 7 8 8 6 5 0 3

7 1 8 8 1 1 5 2 5 7 9

8 7 6 4 3 2 1 6 8 6 4

9 5 6 2 8 0 7 1 3 5 3

0 8 5 9 5 6 3 3 0 7 1

7 5 8 1 4 9 8 3 7 5 2

9 1 4 4 4 1 0 0 5 2 6

Does it mean anything? Hell if I know! I have no idea how any of this works!

+Perhaps a more out there possibility is the changed alphabet. I've mentioned it before, but there's a point in the David MV where a modified alphabet shows up.

In case you can't tell, not only are letters listed in both capital and non-capital form, the alphabet ends W-U-X instead of W-X-Y-Z. This changed alphabet is not in the original LGI.

This is the equivalent scene. You can see it's perfectly fine, and as far as I can tell (aka: zero Japanese, just the translation and vibes) the letters aren't listed twice. And this is the video the David MV is based on, there are a lot of similarities.

This would imply, in my mind at least, that the alphabet was changed for a reason. I've seen it interpreted as another sign David doesn't see himself as human, as he doesn't even use the same alphabet, but it feels like a weird way to go about showing that to me.

So, uh, if you're trying something, and some words don't look right, maybe this can help?

+I have no idea what footnote 14 is supposed to be. "Hint: word length of 256". I've seen it suggested that it relates back to Hamlet's "To be or not to be" thing, but... while I think I did see one source with 256 words once, the word count is highly inconsistent throughout the internet, and almost none of them have it as 256 words. I checked with wordcounter.net.

-Wikipedia: 275 words.

-Poetry Foundation: 259 words.

-Poets.org: 276 words.

-Nosweatshakespeare: 275 words.

-Representative Poetry Online: 265 words

-Shakespeare Resource Center: 261 words.

-Litcharts: 273 words.

See the issue here? And now I don't have any idea what footnote 14 is. Here's some other things that it isn't.

+Literature Girl Insane: >256 words.

+Colored lyrics in the MV: ~190 words

+Lemon: Way more than 256 words

+The part of lemon in the MV: 113 words.

+The defense of Socrates: Way more than 256 words.

+The defense of Socrates, but only the part in the MV, and extended to the next end of sentence: I want to cry. 257 words. 257. One off. Why? Why are you like this? Please, someone check the fucking text and tell me I accidentally pasted in a word I shouldn't have. PLEASE-

+That part of the Little Prince in that one part before the tally 5 code: 198 words.

+Undefeated by the Rain poem: 139 words (in English Wikipedia, or 180, in the English translation found in Spanish Wikipedia, because my life can't just be easy so apparently the English version of the poem is different in different languages of Wikipedia what-)

+Just the correct/incorrect code: The most is 247 characters, if you include "correct13" and "incorrect".

+Yamanashi, the story "kapukapu" comes from: Thousands of words.

I didn't check anything else, but I can't for the life of me find what this is referring to. And it feels important, seeing as it's on the goddamn equal sign. Maybe it’s one of those excerpts from that part of the MV right before the “correct/incorrect” code? I don’t know.

If it helps, I’m pretty sure the code’s going to translate to something related to Xander, seeing as his numeral flashes on screen right before that. And because of that, it’s possible this 256 word thing refers to some kind of revolutionary speech or text or something the like.

How would the footnote matter? Well, you know the ampersand symbol (&) that shows up between the numbers?

Maybe, if we put the numbers on both rows together:

14 43 66 30 17 48 88 46 25 60 83

17 71 38 78 41 11 05 22 05 17 49

38 07 36 64 43 52 11 16 78 56 94

29 35 36 62 88 60 37 61 23 75 83

90 38 05 49 05 46 93 23 30 77 41

37 05 88 21 44 39 68 73 77 25 02

69 91 74 04 54 21 10 70 35 22 66

Then reference whatever text is 256 words long, we can assign each number a word. Possibly, we would only start where the n appears, just to give that some meaning.

Like, here's what you get if you do that with the Wikipedia version of "To be or not to be", starting with the 05 the n represents (starting from the beginning gives you a completely nonsensical message, I didn't even go all the way).

to - sleep - to - and - dream - of - against - to - die - opposing - to - that - and - no - them - consummation - to - to - fortune - be - devoutly - death - die - not - the - and - question - to - and - arrows - ‘tis

Like, that almost sounds like it works, but obviously we would need to find the actual text of 256 words, which isn’t the Wikipedia version of the Hamlet speech. I also tried with the Socrates text, but I don't think it works (from the n you get, like, "O - but - O - word - ashamed", and that's going to be in there even if you start from the beginning).

I also tried some kind of alphabet cypher thing, both with the regular alphabet and with the modified alphabet, and while I would like second opinions on account of my skill issues, I didn’t get anything.

If that’s not what the ampersand is for, here's what you get if you add the numbers together instead of just putting them next to each other:

5 7 12 3 8 12 16 10 7 6 11

8 8 11 15 5 2 5 4 5 8 13

11 7 9 10 7 7 2 7 15 11 13

11 8 9 8 16 6 10 7 5 12 11

9 11 5 13 5 10 12 5 3 14 5

10 5 16 3 8 12 14 10 14 7 2

15 10 11 4 9 3 1 7 8 4 12

It looks like it could be translated to hex almost perfectly, with the 16s possibly just translated to 10s, but I don't know what to do with it. I tried converting to hex and just putting it in as a Tumblr image URL, but nothing. Though there’s a chance I just didn’t do it right, I guess. I even took the first part up to the "n" and put it in th goddamn tally 5 page just in case it did something, but no. I tried the "word association" thing with the Hamlet thing as well, but nothing. Also tried alphabet cypher, even with the modified alphabet, and nothing. But again, any cypher cracking I tried to do should be taken with a grain of salt, since I’m a bit of an idiot at it.

One thing I didn’t do, simply because I don’t know how to, is try to use column cyphers. You can look them up and try them yourself, but I sorta doubt that’s the answer.

Finally, it’s a possibility “world length of 256” is actually some kind of cypher key. Like, not whatever it’s referencing, just “word length of 256” as a key. I severely doubt it, but if anyone wants to try it, be my guest.

Why am I telling you all this? Well, I kinda just wanted to tell someone, I guess. I’m going insane over most of the MV anyways, might as well share a bit of the madness. Also because of the content drought caused by me working on the MV video which is coming I promise but it’s going to take a while-

Anyways, thanks for reading my inane ramblings for so long! Take care!

[charliemwrites]

Every time I read any of your works I am so astounded. How you manage to blend pure poetry into each piece is amazing. It sounds silly but do you have any tips? You motivate me to write and write better.

Hi!! Thank you so much that’s so sweet. It doesn’t sound silly at all, hopefully my advice is helpful and not just generic 😅

- write what you want. Like seriously. No shame, no cringe. You don’t even have to publish it, just write whatever your brain is feeling and don’t fall into the trap of “should”

- on the note of bot publishing; I don’t post everything I write. A lot of stuff stays in my personal files. Any writing is good. It’s practice. Don’t feel compelled to share it

- don’t get hung up on finding the right word/phrase/fact. Make a note for yourself somehow and keep going. I tend to use brackets when I’ve dropped in a place holder. I do it with whole paragraphs sometimes

- if you have an idea you really want to write, but don’t know where to go with it, do a headcanon list. This is also a good way to outline a larger story without getting tangled in fine details or specific scenes. Word vomit in a notes app or talk to a friend about it until you run out of ideas. Then go back, pick and choose, and flesh it out

- if you get stuck, I have a couple tips for that but everyone has their own strategies. You can cut the scene and put it in a separate doc. Maybe you wrote some lines you really like, you don’t have to delete them! Just move them somewhere else for now until you can rehome them. Write from a different POV. Even if doesn’t “make sense” with the rest of the story, there’s no writing police out to get you. Time skip. Maybe you’re anxious about writing the big confrontation. Write the fallout, then go back and fill in the blanks as a “how did we get here”

I hope these help! And if you have any specific questions or anything, let me know. Developing a writing style takes practice and emulation. Find styles you like, borrow their terms and phrases. Again, you don’t have to post it, you just need to work with it until it feels comfortable in your voice!

[jaiden-says-hai]

You can hold My hand.

It’s gonna be a stressful few years that’s for sure. Not really in the poetry mood for this post because I’m just thinking a lot about how it’s gonna be. And I wanted to say that. If you are currently reading. No matter who you are or what you want to become. I love you. And you deserve love wherever you may go or where it may follow you. I appreciate every single one of you, the effort you’ve put in, the spot you’re at today, and what you did to get there. Each one of you is so significant and different in your own right and I’ve seen it myself and experienced it myself and its seems cliche because it kind of is but I don’t really care at all because I need comfort and everyone needs comfort.

I firmly believe that this is no longer about politics. This is about people and where they are and who they are and the love between them. And with that love and support comes a layer of vulnerability that needs to be shared. So I wanted to start this tag and pass it around because I think the idea might help people connect with one another and who they are.

So who am I?

if you don’t know me, im a trans youth and I’m just as much a person as anyone else. I’m never 100% sure about anything and have always had anxiety issues and think too much of every possible worst case scenario I could imagine. But I also grew up unlike this and things change. Where i stand today is an out of the closet trans youth with a supporting family which is a privilege that I have that a lot of others don’t. I’m already surrounded by people who have and share their love with me. And unfortunately. I’m a lucky one. My friends aren’t constantly surrounded by support like I am. I’m an exception. And that’s what gave me this idea.

I want to create a constant surround of support for everyone. That comes with the layer of vulnerability I mentioned. So here’s what I want YOU to do. I want you to use this tag, with a short story of who you are and a picture of your human hand. It might be uncomfortable but the point is that everyone is human and that we can all help each other. Post it on any and all social media you have.

With that said.

You can hold My hand.

[writing-for-life]

Thank you for an amazing 2023!

About metas, fics and sparkly things…

This won’t be short, but you wouldn’t expect that from me, would you? 🤣

I’ve been on Tumblr for just a bit over a year because I needed to get off my family’s back after my three decades long Sandman brain-rot got worse again due to the Netflix series. I hovered around a handful of followers for months until things exploded (I still don’t know why tbh, I think it was one particular meta that kicked things off a bit), and I somehow ended up with hundreds of followers, which might not be much to some, but it’s a lot for me.

So to all of you I’d like to say: Thank you for being here. I don’t always manage to stay on top of things because my notifs are a mess and I lose track, plus I have a rather busy life and can often only write in batches and then queue, but each of you is appreciated, even if I accidentally forget to get back to you or if we aren’t mutuals.

I’ve made such lovely connections over the last year—my interest in The Sandman definitely does not align with the main focus that shan’t be named, and I’m glad that you folks are out there. You probably know who you are.

Now to the obligatory “your posts wrapped” thing—and I’m only doing it because I need to make a point (of course I do 🤣).

News and art

My by far most successful posts have been casting/shooting news and pretty pictures (two examples are linked). And I’m grateful for all the reblogs and likes of those, but apart from curating them, they’re not really me. They’re someone else’s work.

Meta analysis

Then you have my metas, which make up the bulk of the other posts that are doing quite well (you can find all of them in my pinned post).

Even if it wasn’t my most “successful” one (what does that even mean?), this one meant the most to me:

I love writing metas, whether they cover literary concepts, psychology, music or art because I’m a permanently brain-frazzled multi-hyphenate who has to talk about everything that won’t leave her alone.

I also love when you’re sending me asks btw. For the latter, I hope they pick up again in 2024 because they really nosedived since I switched off anonymous asks (which I won’t change, soz) after some people just thought it’s good sport to be an arse about my not being here to pray at the altar of the ship. I guess we have briefly covered the ugly side of Tumblr, too, then.

Writing

But what I'm most proud of when I think of all the things I've done in 2023 is my fiction and poetry. And that's both a happy and slightly sad thing to address.

My 31 Haikus for Sandtober started as a bit of fun, but they’ve developed a life of their own, and people seemingly liked them. The post also contains a bit of my fan-art:

I still intend to turn them into a hardcover at some point, but I won’t be able to create all the artwork myself, so if you’re a fan-artist and want to know what I’m thinking of, please get in touch (I’ll still talk about this in more detail at some point though).

The other thing I’m incredibly proud of is “The Light of Stars”.

I started it as a NaNoWriMo project in 2022 (I always use NaNo to do something that is less stressful than my professional writing projects), wrote it in a bit more than a month—and then did nothing with near 80,000 words until June 2023.

And then I thought “Fuck it,” and published it on Ao3. It’s a canon x OC fic, and this is where it gets a bit sad. Because for most of us writers, these are never the posts that get most engagement (the ratio is really something like 100 : 1 — 500 for a shitpost, 5 for an average writing post).

On Ao3, it gradually picked up because I published chapter after chapter, and I think I can say that it’s done fairly well over there in terms of engagement for an OC fic, and above all how people engage with it. Because it’s a bit deeper despite being romance, it deals with heavy topics like grief, and I’m so glad to have touched a few people’s hearts with it, and that it was meaningful to them. So much so that you all convinced me to write a sequel.

But here’s the thing: The general engagement with writing, especially non-explicit, non-ship, non-readerY/N on Tumblr is very, very low.

Writers who write canon x OC are still struggling to be heard through the noise (it’s not just me, I’ve had many conversations about this, so I’ll just say: I’ll speak for many of us). There are basically hardly any events for us to participate in (most of us only ever do so if we shift to canon one-shots, poetry or metas. If we don’t: Again, no one cares), and fandom often actively chooses to ignore us because “all OCs are self-inserts, ew.” Which is patently not true, and I could go on a long rant now why many canon x canon fics are very obvious self-inserts, which I won’t.

But even if all OCs were self-inserts, even if all characters were—so what? All writing is to a degree based on self-insertion because it comes from our brains—it’s not a bad thing. But apparently, it becomes a bad thing if the character is an OC, heaven knows why.

So if I had one wish (I’m allowed one, right?) for 2024, it would be that people engage more with OC fics and include them more in community events. That fandom, which prides itself in community, includes writers who don’t write for (the main) ship/s a bit more, especially if they don’t write smut (which I personally even do professionally, but I don’t want to have to do it in fanfic just to get engagement). I’m not holding my breath because I know that’s not where fandom’s oft single-minded focus lies, but a girl can dream, right?

And with that, I want to get to my proudest accomplishments of them all:

Being the curator queen of the sparkle realms:

Being one (arguably the main) instigator of the maddest crack ship that has ever graced (?) the face of the earth, spawned the most unhinged discussion (much truth in it though 🤣) and even NSFW fanart. I promise I’ll write that fic about Murphy and his Cool Hat:

Have a lovely 2024!

[toinfinitywinning]

this is get to know you time. the cringy name game at every camp in the world you do with toilet paper. enough.

Conversations and thoughts resembling the same level of random and incongruence of my Apple Music library. like Josh Groban is to Eminem: Mercy Me. a lot about everything that’s not a hashtag bc it just needs more attention.

Let the first (post) be first:

Hi. I’ve never done this before (like a seriously grown up blog on purpose. Just when just followed sad somewhat desperate poetry with a random live-laugh-love meme in there somewhere.) and Pitch Perfect.

BUT.

For 2 years I’ve had Long-Haul COVID. It’s a different kind of lonely

Thanks so much, amirite? —Gen-Z apologies if I didn’t use that jumbled acronym-word correctly.

It’s hard to keep up.

See? What am I talking about now and how did I get there…

Due to a very common symptom of LHC…

Again—hard to keep up. It’s there. Tho

And I have a lot of quirk so it’s possible I think you’ll “get” but are just nice not to tell me

BUT.

It’s already gone. Train left the Station yesterday.

Slipped on a penny.

Not Good. not even funny.

Teens with the gorgeous graffiti have to Go elsewhere. I’ve always been jealous of that kind talent.

Whole lot better than something else shiny thrown on the track and it’s derailed. There’s at least some innocence in a paint can.

WOW.

I have major attention and Brain Fog hurdles to conquer or shortly bypass. You might not be able to tell b/c of how My writing jumps around so infrequently.

Not true but still easier.

Mostly innocent and playful.

Sadly the attention part is this many years young.

Writing comes naturally. As it always has, strangely...

And why is healing so exhausting? Writing is therapeutic but My body says—can you not?

i know im not the only one asking that!

As if I have time for that too.

find a community of people suffering just as similarly and gain strength, tips and tricks.

Just, speak-screen edit my writing for me. Maybe a clarification fact-✔.

Just not wherever Tr*mp gets his.

Could be Truth Social. Monthly fee tho will cost you your Red Hat.

MYGAbad

Speaking I struggle with processing w/e skills I must have held onto.

BUT.

Since 2 years is quite. some. time.—I’ve shared many struggles and victories.

Like a Bell curve. Or a punk Domino falling then lining them up takes longer just to go down again in half the time. Repeat.

It’s very likely I Will try to talk about many things at once.

I really can’t help that. LOL.

Jury’s still out but I get most of my writing and miscellaneous musings from mom.

Dad can write the best, longest, and precious prayers and notes.

Almost delicately but like you KNOW he’s giving you a hug.

A Good mix tape’s paper Version.

Enter Run on sentences. Truly a stream by now.

Although my brain muscle is weak I’ve been encouraged by several people to Start a blog. Someday I’ll include the past 2 years of w/e pics are on other SocMed.

I can’t think of anything worse.

Yea, okay LOL.

Judgment free. Occasionally… like normal doses then have to work through that.

Mostly that’s because I knew nothing about anything before I opened My computer and started sharing My thoughts under zero context ridden or form at all.

More likely as well to offend and piss someone off. Well done you’re now one less friend popular. There’s an App for that tho-tracking people Who don’t like you.

Not sure where I’ll land with this. It may not land you either.

Because like a lot of us. Sometimes you don’t get to talk actually. No Room.

I like routine; that’s out. So it gets dull.

I’ve learned I hadn’t yet given myself the space to see all of things I can do sitting down.

But. By “given” I mean to say that perhaps I didn’t know it was there.

One Good thing I’ve gathered from this Hell.

Hell fresh by the Day! Never frozen.

So at that time and in this case of my life; sitting is fine.

Some of it isn’t too bad. The writing. You will find questionable punctuation. Run on sentences that I was running.

Relevance at all.

All around Confusion…altho connect the dots could have been seen as practice.

Or annoying even. I’d have no words.

I truly don’t set out to be funny. I could never do stand-up or improv. Or act.

Humor forced just takes and receives too much energy that might come off insincere.

Nothing on command.

Like Matt Perry’s brilliant improv wit it just doesn’t hit the same.

B/c it was scripted.

A syllabus for it Imagine.

The horn to jump off the swim block.

It’s when Life feels more scripted a lot of people close up.

That’s because you’re not in charge anymore. I’ve lost the Power.

Don’t prefer caring about whether someone likes me like I used to.

I believe you can snooze me for 30 days or say ‘I’m done w/ her’ and send Me to the cyberarchives.

Okay. Okay.

So—90% of the time I’m witty and sarcastic with a bit of cynicism, discomfort (for you), and pettifogging.

I write primarily about the questions of intersectionality.

How do things fit.

Let’s Fit it.

Until I figured out physics and calculus and basic math were behind a career in architecture and the classes I would have to take, I enjoyed taking things apart to make something else.

Not always pretty.

Could be Good what I took apart was the best thing we can’t see.

Like I’m writing questions but with wisdom not meaning to do that either,

A lot of people don’t like that. You do you! Baby.

I don’t mean to be at all harsh or hurtful. I try not to say that anything vainly.

I say it b/c a lot of what I’m writing is all of every piece of stream of consciousness tallied.

And it was a synapse connecting another.

Maybe that’s the creative part? The other side of My Brain is telling Me to ✔ on the other side so I’m like…crickets.

What I write is stream of consciousness, brutally honest and to some might be lightly offensive. In College writing this Way would’ve absolutely driven Me crazy.

Then life steps in and bonks u on the head with a newspaper but 15 years later returns the favor with an iPhone.

Or too blunt. And comes across as harsh. And that’s mostly because if I don’t have an emoji to match my real-life broken ღ I’m breaking up with you.

Self reflection: impulsive

I used to journal so much growing up.

When did I lose that innocence?

We can’t talk about folding paper into cranes and witchcraft finger fortune games anymore?

No more MASH?

Huh, maybe you weren’t born this Way. Ur Parents just drew circles nearest each other or your apple stem twist broke too soon and you want a partner whose name starts with P.

Very often I overshare. If you’re reading this this is not brand new information. No ability to say things simply. Think I’ve already. That can put me really vulnerable to more bitcoin hacks.

And then you need to figure out what bitcoin is. And whether Mario can collect coins as well in place of the hackers.

I’d say ask Tom Brady b/c of his investments but since retirement he’s been pretty deflated.

Mean people that mean to hurt.

First of all I feel sorry for you. Not in a poor you tho.

People Who hurt on purpose don’t often have any Way to vent or get a rise other than evoke feelings in and deflect toward a schoolmate.

Skip back to the part I tried talking about vulnerability. It truly is the invisible cloak and no one can see you but nothing makes sense still and you’ve only fixed what’s on the outside. Now you’re peeved AND cloaked.

At this conjunction junction next I’d suggest try shopping at Target opposed to Abercrombie then.

Feet in the water right above bankruptcy to see how things could be different only what…if?

Good ♧ seriously.

So there’s more grace given when you fall. When it’s not your month Day or even year!

Nobody is there for you!!

And My cloak is getting rained on.

Maybe gathering strength from falling will come a common sense with a 6th one but with seriously meaningful things I’ve learned and less hard knock’s Life for us.

The hard Way.

The bottom’s still there and it actually stinks stinks. Discouraging b/c there are two sides to the bottom of the cave full of stalagTITES and mites.

All the up’s and down’s. Right there. And the COVID-19 bat OMG!

You know you may not be able to fall any further further but once you’re up again you’re wondering whether you should get some cement to close that thing off.

Choose to live! But welcome to the real world—it sucks—ur gonna Love it.

Almost 4got. In the cave you dont always have to wait for Jesus to be resurrected if that metaphor comforts you but if change comes and it requires a whole new worm can of Life we already can’t handle that gets us outta the dank I don’t think we need to ask permission to the rights of that Bible passage.

BUT.

Until YOU are ready for change...

Forget it. At least you meant well. Someone can guide that horse to water but it stays pretty hydrated, so he says he’s Good. Promise. The only talking animal and it was Me Who got to hear it. More importantly, who’s gonna ☊? Care? There’s a country song finding out Who your Friends are. A lot stay lost and it’s not helpful all our Friends aren’t the same.

Missing a Good chance to find out if you’re in a similar predicament and that not always a bad thing.

At times I have literally had to be lifted off the floor.

I don’t do this at all for pity. As you read, My Pride is the biggest obstacle to let Go.

When you do?

The hard way through this.

I am angry and irritable for bouts. Sometimes I’m silly and invite karma punishments.

Go all Brimstone and every type fire and the Old Testament has nothing New-thinking and no one new to add to it. SMH. Nail a list on the wooden church door reading it is nearing endgame. Or, Just open your hotel drawer and tear out the back half.

So change then— If it were Me and it has been just not an actual hole I’d be outta there due to the spiders and crickets alone. Jiminy’s Cool.

If u can’t change and just stay a novice bunny hill—fine! Stay there. Build some confidence through experience.

And isn’t that another thing? Something specific motivates the fire under your (cuckoo!) and before you’d see the dark without any End of the tunnel and more importantly with the light aspect. All the sudden you care b/c what? It applies to you of course be selfish. Fascinating yet humbling.

Then there’s the ‘Why Me’ (?) phase? Not fully pitiful but just pretentious enough to resume the trailblaze. Bad attitude with a healthy dose of are we there yet and trying to Balance whether someone is saying …’they get it; you always feel bad’ so…KY Basketball banter? Ashamed accompanies too bc thing is a few times I did kind of scoff at phrases like I always feel bad. Like, here’s 2 Extra strength Tylenol.Alright, Ok, come test for Covid 1/29/22. It shouldn’t take going through something to empathize with or change but you could’ve listened for longer with a clear mind. Just cannot wrap your head around it and I think sometimes that’s okay. What’s next I’ll try so hard.

+ It’s 12:01am of 1/29/24 (so last night), you still can’t do math and/or struggle to add or subtract 12 so aren’t entirely sure its your sophomore year orientation, and you already surrender to what you didn’t want to get up for in the first place. Kind of silly u set the alarm! B/c Pain, confusion, Discomfort and a Deep loneliness that has very little to do with people awaits. That whole scenario is a disaster but look who’s standing and GOT. UP. period. 15 years ago that’s where I’d be. Just defeated.

THAT. Is enough some days. I say that to you struggling to believe the same but know Deep down.

Year 2 longhaul and youre wondering why there are anniversaries at all given about half are always sad or tragic. Evoking the worst on what could be the best. Might be something To think 2 minutes ago you’d ended your prayer to have a better Day. Of anything is true about everything happens for a reason I’d say having to chooose how to respond given you have the privilege at all to that just means were normal. B/c ill be honest I would not

I’m angry. WHAT is so complicated about your lack of Faith or belief prayer must go into an encrypted iCloud even the FBI can’t retrieve or interpret. Never had a chance! But I’ll add that it’s worth noting prayer doesn’t deal with its existence in transaction currencies..

Feel less Pain but feel more with it or stronger now. Or, just plain ‘ol numb. Similar to Addiction I suppose people get so used to being healthy one Way or another they don’t even notice better OR worse and no one is getting married.

Truth is.

Yea.

I’m in Hell, but I’m not on a ventilator. I’m not without relentless Support.

I still can smile but laugh just a bit before it hurts.

Something is always worse.

SomeONE is doing worse.

Somewhere and definitely rn.

I never knew I’d be dealing greed of perspective for this Long.

Something you’ll never find out about that changed your life’s trajectory where an explanation would have only confused things.

Then we still have the chance to be astonished and then genuine bc of that. Thankful. Expectant. With Faith somehow. Maybe carrying someone else’s Hope for a while might burden you less for a short time.

You dont need to see eye struggle and suffering. You dont need examples. You just know. There’s a fleeting peace u might not see again for 2 days but in knowing it’s not just you with the same bs going on.

Like here. Here is someone who needs support but in a different Way but how unique it could be to trade just for a bit. It’s not leg day this time remember u agreed a temp trade.

We don’t have to know everything. Most of the time I don’t give God the time to keep up w/ Me let alone do anything miraculous before I just hang up.

Although My Life was headed in a completely renewed direction in so many ways of recovery—

I got sick. Not because it was meant to be.

Because COVID. Possibly a rabid bat. Cracked vile or petri-dish

Everything does not happen for a reason and ppl dont like hearing that bc its an easy out. Says time might go on but this thorn wont ever heal. How do we respond? that’s the most authentic and a strength yes or no wand.

I hate cliché. Thing is tho…I think we all hate it b/c it doesn’t hold us accountable. Eh it’s fine.

Unfortunately we wouldn’t have the pretty, surprise, one of the Walk to Remember walks. All up to the of healing and forgiveness individual to each of us.

If for Me that means ive healed all I can and I’m counting on research to help Me out some more maybe I just keep going. Trust Me nothing is forgotten but you do know now that at least you were strong and capable enough to figure all that at all. And—I can do that. Some days aren’t that kind.

Maybe it becomes a goal we never anticipated but ✔ your resilience at the ticket line and saddle up, honey.this donkey only holds ____ lbs. let some things Go. That thing will still only walk in a circle but you’ve evenly distributed your baggage.

The feeling of pure joy. Which btw does still require a thesaurus b/c it is NOT the same as joy. Like a preventative Med to an acute one.

Then feel Accomplishment.

Not knowing what’s next but trying to be prepared.

It’s a surprise party we never RSVP’d and don’t regret it.

And it’s a Good thing u got outbid for that yacht.

Hell, tho, you won’t be forgotten but pushing helps the donkey move faster for now that is acceptable.

Unshun. Reshun. (This will make sense if you Watch the Office)

Flee fly. Be gone. Thankfully we hope to come out more resilient after the rip and tear and often not fully repaired sewing lessons.

But perhaps the biggest trait I’ve had to work on is My Pride. I want to do it.

I’ll give myself 3 strikes. 4 balls.

Then I walk to First.

Please do not get Me a gift.

I Love you and that was so sweet.

Would I be as generous?

Do u work, yea. It’s just one really hurts more and being tough isn’t tough at all if it’s not helping the worst hurt.

Those are sitting down, timeout thoughts.

The compression socks need to breathe.

But once the Pride slides over, let go, I get to know how it feels to very tangibly be taken care of and watched over.

Patience. The other side of a rant.

Later on that.

My main goal is to learn. Connect. Be called out if something comes off really tasteless.

Laugh at things that don’t have anything to do with being chronically sick. Laugh about what Medicine u had to administer and royally failed.

Sometimes all coupled with a handicap car-tag. No crutches either b/c I don’t like hearing I Will get better. It is a nice statement but it is impossible to be sure. Ive struggled with that b/c I know everyone believes that and means well I’ve just taken prior sick Gentry’s generalization and multiplied.

I am not making light. I think part of me is using the sarcasm as a coping mechanism.

Praise God there is something that does help the pain or at least distract from that Pain just not the one in your legs.

A codependency just a bit less severe. Embarrassing. Reason for judgment. Too easy.

If you can believe it—-I am not the same person I was 2 years ago.

For now I truly don’t know how. Pain can leave, anything traumatic can be worked on. You’ve got your scars.

I actually really think a scar is just unique as a snowflake or fingerprint. Telling so many stories. B/c a scar does mean something has healed. And it never forgets at one time it was painful. I’d prefer to see what I accomplish but I see wonder and beauty in them.

Things get pretty deep, complicated and downright pitifully sad. Vulnerable. Frighteningly true and relevant.

So I take what Good I can get in that day and pray those with LHC (Long-Haul COVID-19)

Be released.

However. On the flip tail’s side.

I’m 35 years aware there are some people who just don’t like me.

Until recently I wouldn’t have meant ‘sorry not sorry.’

I do now. To a respectable extent.

Reader discretion is advised. I promise I never set out to hurt anyone.

definitely not on purpose.

Because. Idgaf. Not bars being held. Que sera, sera.

complete transparency and seriously tho this doesn't mean i dont care. i wear my heart on my sleeve like a ding-dong ready to get hurt.

call it a diversion. we were on a break.

i just might take all of whatever hits wrong and turn that in to whatever ounce of assurance I can with the openness and to the best capability to learn new things and grow with compassion.

And back to writing—may already be just engrained but I don’t ever have a thesis, 3 supporting ideas or a better word then a conclusion.

You might find yourself confused. Reading it again prob won’t help.

Some will be really bad. Ugly. Waste of time. it was at least therapeutic for me.

Already is.

Even more might not make sense.

Read at your own risk, basically.

I have confidence but not really. Just enough not to care to change.

But I think about it. Because I’m wrong a lot.

challenge me. ill try to get through the fog.

But a lot of things have changed. in ways i might not even know Beauty in the Mess.

To sum up the above (sorry, there won’t be another summary after this disclaimer’s commercial intermission.)

I want to be as positive as possible.

Be in control of what I can. Ask for help for what I cannot.

I’m so ready to get My Life back. Trust Me and trust anyone Who tells your theyre in constant pain.

Really embarrassing I used to kind of scoff and be empathetic.

Funny how youre so sure of things.

Until it happens to you.

Suddenly it’s back to the drawing board and humility.

I wear my ღ on my sleeve. My greatest superpower and kryptonite.

What you read is as close to what you get as possible.

Balance can be unfair.

Please know that I care. I try harder than I ever had before. There are things I didn’t even Imagine could happen to someone when sick.

In all the ways I want to come out of this even better than what I envy I was entering into when I got sick.

There will be a WIDE range of thoughts similar to how i write. Mostly Sports and public figures and the politics I can comprehend.

B/c I know there’s someone out there who’s homeless because of this diagnosis. Or was deadly. Fired.

Divorced.

Ive become a bit of a nerd. Childish in some ways b/c you have to be creative…to be creative.

How do I even Start philosophizing that? So I don’t.

So I try My best to be the best I can. Inspire. Elicit laughter and new ways of thinking.

Questions.

Really tho? I just wanna be me.

thank you so sincerly to anything fromn a meme to a gift to a hug a prayer a smile, company, vibes if they can travel

but most of all

for holding hope when ive not been strong enough to.

For better or worse

for loving me.

making me feel heard.

idk what tomorrow holds but if its the same as today ill know at least i can make it and i am still beyond blessed and cared for and loved unconditionally.

even if forever.

wanna feel free, free.

to be me unabandoned.

changed for the better without knowing it.

some people dont have that option.

or even less the resource or safety to write about it.

Lastly mostly—I’m thankful for Insurance and the ability and privilege to work from home. And. Still have a job in general.

A Family and Family reserves holding me.

gentry.gonna.gents/g3

next. and if you made it this far, bless you.

thank you.

you mean more than you know to me. to anyone miscellaneous thanks as well and to my family and extended family and friends and job and insurance.

im in better shape than a lot. perspective sucks in the throes. selfish not selfish but my gosh turn the lights off. each journey is sooo different, but idk find the goodness and inspiration inbtw. There will be a rainbow soon enough, I wont make the bold claim and promise you one tho,

semi lastly and vulnerably, we've all been hurt. all going through something.

I say this every time something really bad happens. Ya know the ‘this is even worse,’ talk.

This one holds every candle.

Funny not funny none are the same and you’re never fully prepared.

and no one knows what it is you’re dealing.

give grace when I can’t sometimes.

cliché’s be damned lets just golden rule it b/c that one’s hard to do too but it sounds cute and Idont see a periodic table saying A! U! Be nice and welcoming.

I know I’ve forgotten something.

So I’ll fight.

But I still get to complain.

Feeling so entitled to this ill.

Sincerely,

Gentry

no ps you're welcome

[senseandaccountability]

hiiiiiii i come bearing asks:

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

3. Describe the creative process of writing a chapter/fic

I scramble together notes and inspiration and sometimes some theme and/or references I’d like to put in. This can be anything from pretty words (English is my second language so sometimes I remind myself of gorgeous words and deep-study them in a dictionary), chunks of poetry and various settings to pure characterisation notes. I have three reasons for writing fic. 

An embarrassing number of my stories originate from me disagreeing with other interpretations of the text and/or because I want to put into words what the subtext is SHOUTING at us (me). That’s the pompous academic in my brain - LOOK HERE AT ALL THE TEXTUAL EVIDENCE FOR MY INTERPRETATION LET ME SHOW YOU I AM RIGHT. My Cyberpunk fics for example, where I just used so many words to scream “this is not a Devoured by the Other narrative you are objectively wrong about that all of you listen up!”

A very strong feeling that something needs to be explored or fleshed out, because I like the thing but want MORE of it. 

Nobody else is writing this character/this pairing OR they’re not doing it the very specific way I want. Here I think my age shows. I don’t want to read about gorgeous, innocent people romancing other gorgeous (maybe less innocent) people, I want some grit, some ugliness, some maturity. I’m not 19, I don’t want to write about characters that are 19 and discover the world for the first time, I want to write about people re-discovering it or saying goodbye to it or trying to pick up the pieces of their own dreams.

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

Aside from the WIPs I’m posting, I’m nursing a handful of stories in my head that I want to write at some point. 

The fire in me now - about Rowan Tavish and Gale of Waterdeep and I just know that it’s kind of melancholic and mushy because they have soft weird intellectual man/prosaic tired secretly soft fighter woman dynamic, I guess? I really don't know but I'm low-key obsessed with how imperfect their relationship will be.

You are more than what you’ve lost, he tells her.

You are better than your worst mistakes, she tells him. 

Banalities to fill the void in the darkest, most lonely stretches of night, empty shells to be crammed full with meaning, with love. And maybe it’s not enough but it’s all they’ve got. 

27. What is your most and least favorite part of writing?

Best: Figuring out someone's voice and dynamic with other characters, piecing together that string of ideas to a whole. It’s extremely nice when it all comes together, and you read through it and go oh yeah, this is what I meant. 

Worst: Writing plot that isn’t immediately related to the characters. Ugh. I really just want to poke around in fictional people’s heads and whenever I get stuck, it’s because of plot reasons or because my fragmented character study bullshit isn’t making any sense unless I anchor it to some overarching structure that I have no energy to build. Sometimes I wish I was writing plays instead and could just insert minor notes about the setting. 

[gold-andgranite]

sweet disaster // the notes + the prologue

hey y’all! ever since finding the tgm community here on tumblr earlier this summer I’ve had a little idea floating around I just couldn’t let go of. after incubating said idea (read: storyboarding and note taking/ visualizing scenes as I’m driving/ having hot girl backyard time/ while washing dishes/ as I am folding laundry/ etc. etc. etc.), I got a first little prologue-y type chapter written up! I have a vague idea of where this fic is headed but I’m allowing myself the creative freedom to not have anything super nailed down yet, and instead just letting this little world evolve however it will. we will find out together! I have missed writing lately, and even though most of my writing over the years has been either academic or free verse poetry, I’m excited to give prose a try! 

a bit of housekeeping: I wrote this initial bit as a second person pov but with a named character (we are JJ). it’s what felt the most comfortable to write, but if it really weirds all y’all out, I’d be willing to accept that constructive criticism and switch to a different pov. I want us to feel immersed, but if it gets clunky (especially with, perhaps, pov changes later on) then I’m willing to change the pov, and that would include tweaking this chapter as well post-posting. 

as far as warnings go? each chapter will have chapter-specific warnings, as needed, but overall this story will touch on mental health issues, a bit of angst, some smut down the road, language, military inaccuracies, etc. basically the usual warnings for most fics on here -- like I said, I will update those warnings for each chapter as they arise. we’re starting off super mellow with just a slight language warning for this teaser trailer appetizer thing. 

okay! I think that about does it for now! I’m really excited to go on this journey with y’all!

-- goldi 

“JJ, come ON! You have nothing else going on today! You’re taking a day off from working out, you went grocery shopping yesterday, and I know you’re not working later today, either.” She ticks the reasons off on her fingers before throwing a particular withering look your way, dropping her chin to really send the point home. You inhale sharply, lowering the coffee mug from your lips, counterpoints halfway off your tongue, already feeling the words in your mouth – but, well, fuck. As your best friend, roommate, and coworker – you didn’t have counterpoints. And she knew it, fighting her smile at first, being a good sport about it, but you both knew her eyes were twinkling with excitement.

“Okay. Okay.” You put your hands up in surrender, laughing now, as she squeals and rushes forward to throw her arms around you.

“Yay! Yay! Emi said yes, too! I promise, J, it’s gonna be fun. We’ll have fun! It’s something different! And . . .” she smirks, really going heavy on the whole “devil in the angel’s eyes” thing. “I wanna go support our troops, you know?”

At that, you roll your eyes. “Really, Kennedy? This still?”

“YES.” She held your shoulders in her hands, staring directly into your soul. “JJ. My last date was a fuckin’ trainwreck. I can’t do it anymore! I don’t wanna keep sifting through shitty profiles on my phone only to get a go on a lukewarm-at-best, somebody-sedate-me at worst date!!” She’s graduated to shaking your shoulders, a quarter laughing but three quarters serious. Parker, the most recent online dating disaster, was a pretty bad date for her, you knew that – beginning with when he honked and texted “here” to come pick Kennedy up. She hates that shit – you all do, of course. The group chat went feral over that one. 

“I know, Ken. I’m sorry. I’ll go, okay? I’ll be your wingwoman, if you need. I just – I really don’t want you to get hurt, okay? You’ve had your fair share of shitbags, and –”

“JJ, god, I’m not looking for anything serious! This is an attempt at streamlined efficiency more than anything else,” she giggles. “I just wanna go spend my afternoon looking confused at an air show, take in the beauty of the United States military machine” – cue eye roll – “flirt with as many men as possible, and see how many numbers I can get. We’ll be like those women in the USO in the forties! It’s really your patriotic duty, J.”

“My patriotic duty?? USO? Jesus, Ken –” you break off, fully cackling now, coffee set down on the counter a safe distance from where you’re gripping the counter bent over laughing. “Should we bring little American flags to hand out, too?”

That catches her off guard. “I mean . . . I think I’m covered on the tiny flag front . . .” The mischief glints in her eyes over a knowing smile, a language in which only best friends are fluent.

“KENNEDY!” You gasp, pretending to be scandalized. Your best friend could kill a man without laying a single finger on him, you know this, but her penchant for flair still caught you off guard at times. “You are NOT wearing your stars and stripes undies to this air show! I thought you were just getting phone numbers!” 

Kennedy sighs, planting her hands on her hips. “Ohh, but I am, J. I am.” She passes by you, patting your back. “We leave in an hour! Emi is meeting us there!” she sings as she glides down the hallway. “It’s gonna be fuuuuuuuun! You’re gonna have fun, JJ!!”

You turn back to your coffee, threading your fingers through the handle, shaking your head at Kennedy’s antics. You knew she was right; if all you did today was watch your best friend flirt with men in uniform, narrating the encounters documentary-style with Emi, then it’d be worth it. 

Memorable, at the very least.