#i used to use dashes across the page when i first started writing

[iridescentis]

randomly out of curiosity i wanna know

[dr3amfyr-e]

brat. - j.v. ( w. 4.5k )

꒰ in which the boy you see every summer enrolls in the same university as you. ꒱ — modern!jacaerys velayron x reader

୨ ⎯ i cannot stress enough, football means ⚽️ not 🏈. childhood-friends-to-lovers, but you have to get through my 2000 word psychoanalysis and backstory first. light angst. mention of the death of a parent. lots and lots of talk about the velaryon-targaryen-hightower family dynamic. light make out action. reader's family is implied to be wealthy enough to have a summer home. almost everyone lives au. set in the uk, not westeros. omitted daemon rhaenyra marriage because there’s no way to to make it even semi-normal. realizing now i omitted daemon entirely erm sorry. pushing the laenor agenda bc he’s my favorite character. this is abhorently long. extreme overuse of the em-dash. uhh the perspective is wonky in a few places. part two. ⎯ ୧

i had to write this twice. i'm offering this to you with shaking hands, like a peasent child begging for coins. i may write a part two because i have more to say, but i don't want to figure it out rn.

On the cold January morning that Jacaerys Velaryon-Targaryen was born, the media went into a frenzy. 

The Targaryens were old money, their fortune rooted a century back in good investments. Historically adept at finding their way into things, the empire had a string to pull in every industry. From art and law to technology and shipping, if business prospects looked good there would be a Targaryen investment.

And then there were the dogs — regal greyhounds, with long, thin bodies and sleek coats. The Targaryens bred them as far back as bloodline records went. The pups were never for sale; sometimes they were used as show dogs, and successful show dogs they were, but more often they were pets. It was a status symbol, to nonchalantly own such a coveted creature. 

The Targaryens were idolized in the public eye. They were all stunning, with sharp features and silver hair, and each member of the family seemed to possess a Midas touch. But, where Valyrian blood ran hot, so did the press. It was no surprise when magazines started to turn a profit from silver heads plastered across their glossy covers. It was the price that came with God-like aristocracy.

From editorials to gossip columns, people devoured the insider life of the untouchables. When Aemma Targaryen died, there was a four-page spread in nearly every magazine; complete with pictures and quotes. Business papers filled with opinion pieces about Rhaenyra’s inheritance claim to her family’s empire; magazines exploded with the announcement of her engagement to Laenor Velaryon, and subsequently Viserys’ marriage to Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his lawyer. 

When Jacaerys was born, reporters lined up outside of the hospital doors. There were cameras and microphones and crew trucks, and Rhaenyra hated it. It wasn’t the way she wished to welcome her child into the world — swarmed by people who didn’t know nor care for him.

Laenor had always been good at navigating the attention, and Rhaenyra was constantly grateful. So, when he pulled his gaze from the babe and steeled himself to deal with the onslaught of reporters outside, tears pricked at her eyes. Appreciation, exhaustion, adoration? She couldn’t be sure. 

Looking down at her son, she thought, he’s perfect. He had a smattering of dark hair, and he was quiet but not concerningly so. Wispy lashes fell upon his cherub cheeks, and when he eventually blinked up at her his eyes were dark. He looked nothing like her — she didn’t care. 

She refused to talk to anyone outside of her family, and had the curtains in her private room drawn. To expose her son, her heart, to the prying eyes of the bored masses with nary a care for his well-being was a nightmare. She wouldn’t have him exploited. 

At the time of Jacaerys��� birth, she and Laenor had been married for a little over a year. Laenor’s father, Corlys, managed the bulk of the import and export for Viserys’ company. Corlys was a good man, he hadn’t dreamed of marrying his son off. But Laenor and Rhaenyra were both in the same impossible situation: the wiles of youth mixed with the ever critical public. 

They had both fallen into scandalous relationships, both preyed on by paparazzi. If they married one another, it would save face for both of their families. Plus — both being the eldest and heir, this would clear the expectation of a dignified marriage. They agreed to leave each other to whatever youthful fun they wanted to have, as long as everything was discreet. 

Both the Velaryons and the Targaryens kept a summer home in Dragonstone, a private community in coastal Wales. It was the perfect place for Rhaenyra and Laenor to begin their life — far from her father, close to his parents, and out of the line of sight for any nosy journalist. 

The public eye had looked to other things by the time Lucerys was born, two years later. Again, Laenor dealt with the small gathering of reporters with the utmost grace, and Rhaenyra submitted a written statement. 

Alicent divorced Viserys that same year. 

As she watched her boys grow up, full of energy and life, Rhaenyra thought, there was no one better to parent with than her best friend — a title Laenor had rightfully earned. They hadn’t had much choice in knowing each other, and they certainly would never have chosen to be married, but he made a bearable roommate. They had things in common; they liked the same music, and the same men. They drank the same wine and frequented the same restaurants. And, they both loved their boys. 

As Jace and Luke grew up, they found the best company in each other — the school in Dragonstone was so small, though, that there were very few other options. They both played on the school’s small football team, and Jace took piano lessons while Luke learned to fence. Where Jace was driven by emotion, Luke was level-headed; where Luke was cautiously quiet, Jace spoke his mind. It was an ideal childhood, the Welsh coast was an idyllic backdrop to grow up upon, with the sea in their backyard. 

They were ten and eight when Joffrey was born, both excited for their new brother. Their mother brought him home, bundled in a soft red blanket. The boys sat on the couch beside Rhaenys and stared at him for upwards of an hour. 

Hardly a week had passed when Harwin Strong died. He was a family friend, a frequent presence in their home and life — Jace and Luke had been upset by this, of course. 

In time they came to understand the situation fully. Jacaerys first, fitting the pieces together with the evidence he found in the mirror. Neither Rhaenyra nor Laenor had dark hair, like he and his brothers. 

His matriline was uncontestable though, as he grew into himself. He possessed the same nose, jaw, brow, and high cheekbones that Rhaenyra wore. The comparisons between the two became more frequent as he grew older, and he found himself to be quite proud to look like her. 

Her attitude lived in him as well, the temperament she had been so notorious for as a girl festered in her eldest son. She had once been christened ‘The Princess of Dragonstone’ after flipping off a reporter at their summer home. Jacearys earned it for himself when he was fifteen, after loudly berating a reporter. He had been defending Luke, but no one seemed to care when they deigned him ‘The Prince of Dragonstone’. He took it with grace, claiming that he couldn’t help but be his mother’s child.

It instilled a sense of public propriety he strove to uphold. 

Rhaenyra remarried the same year — to Alicent Hightower — and moved her children from Wales to London. It took a while to adjust to the new life — Jace liked his new school, but he detested his step-brothers. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t come around to the idea of living with Aemond and Aegon, who took so much pleasure in making he and his brothers miserable. 

After the first month, Jacaerys fell in brilliantly. He performed well in school, quickly being enrolled in the advanced literature and history courses. He got on well with his peers, and made a number of friends. He joined the football team and spent his Sunday afternoons learning piano concertos. 

Living in London made him a more publicly prominent figure in his family's legacy. He knew how to play his role as heir; he carried himself perfectly — confident and charming and elegant. He didn’t particularly like being in the public eye, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction when he did something to receive positive public attention. 

King’s Landing, much like where he had grown up, was a community reserved for the upper echelon. Situated in Northwest London, and surrounded by wrought iron gates, it was regal and dignified. The house had high, vaulted ceilings, large stained glass windows, and more than enough bedrooms. It rained more, Jacaerys noticed in the first month. When it had rained in Dragonstone he would watch the droplets bounce off the sea, where it lapped at the sandy bay. Here the rain splattered unceremoniously upon the pavement. 

For as wonderful as life in London had turned out, Jacaerys found himself longing for what was left behind in Dragonstone. Laenor lived there still, and while he called often and visited as much as he could, it wasn’t the same. Jace’s childhood bedroom remained, along with all of the memories in the house he grew up in. And his friends. There was an assortment of people he only saw between late May and early September; the children of the other seasonal residents. The number had dwindled in years past, with fewer of them returning for break — favouring more interesting places, like Ibiza or Rome, as they got older. 

Far too few of his childhood friends he kept in contact with, especially after the move to London. You were the exception. 

He was grateful, on days when it stormed in London, to receive a silly text or too-long voice note. It made things feel less dull — you had a way of doing that. 

He took to reading theory around the time he turned seventeen. It’s queer theory, at the suggestion of his cousin Baela, who lent him his first Judith Butler book. He finished it that weekend. 

His aunt Laena and her two daughters lived in London, and Jace found a close comrade in Baela. She played competitive tennis and listened to riot grrrl, she was much cooler than him and he knew it. Her bedroom held two massive bookshelves, and she let him pillage her collection for De Bouvier and Didion and Gay. Hours were spent lying across the floor in Laena’s house, studying, or reading, or talking. He enjoyed Baela’s company more than any of his school friends, favouring anything with her over anything with the boys from his football team. 

His youngest sister, Visenya, turned one around the same time. Baela, staying with Jacaerys while he babysat one night, inducted him into the eldest daughter club. 

“You’re so keen on driving your siblings around, and taking care of them. Plus, aren’t you your mother’s closest confidant?” She asked. 

True, Jace supposed. He was the oldest of Rhaenyra’s children, and the most responsible of his brothers and step-siblings. His mums both worked full time, they were busy but as involved as possible. Jace just did the menial things. He made Joffrey breakfast, picked Luke up after school, and watched Visenya when necessary. He didn’t mind.

Baela argued that he should mind. 

He had been a sensitive child, more so than his brothers, but it made him incredibly emotionally adept as he aged. So many boys his age prided themselves on stoicism, but that was never something Jace felt connected to. He always felt things too deeply to bottle them up — it accounted for the occasional temper that flared up when he was upset, but also how empathetic and kind he was. 

Jacearys was set to graduate with honours in the first week of May. It was three months before when college acceptance letters began to appear in the mail. He had applied to a number of places, and been accepted everywhere. The University of the Vale was where his hopes hinged though. 

Just after Valentine's Day, it showed up. The envelope was wide and stuffed full, and sealed with a wax stamp. His acceptance letter was on the very top of the stack of papers — the thick paper heavy in his hands, as he admired the blue printed border and silver flocking. 

Rhaenrya sorted through the informational packets while Jace reread the letter. Part of him couldn’t believe it was real.

He sends you a picture of the letter, and you respond in kind with one of an identical nature. 

You hadn’t planned to go to the same university, but it certainly was a happy coincidence. 

After graduation, he was beyond excited for the reprieve that Dragonstone granted. The promise of early morning hikes, and evenings spent on the beach — the once empty house, full of life and bustling with bodies. 

You were the first thing Jacaerys thought to look for when he set his bags down in the summer home. 

It was late May, and you were guaranteed to be out of school. I’ll text after I unpack, he thought, pulling clothes and books from his suitcase. 

His room in Dragonstone had once been his childhood bedroom. The walls were a warm tone of white, and the small bed was still covered with his blue and white checkered duvet. Piano scales and pictures of his brothers and friends adorn the walls. There was a soccer trophy on the back edge of his desk, something he had won when he was eleven. It was stuffy from nine months of stagnance, but familiar all the same. 

He pushed the curtains back from the window to let sunlight filter into the dusty room, gazing down at the beach, when he spotted your figure. He was quick to rush downstairs, out the backdoor, and across the stone path that leads from the patio to the beach. He greets you with a call of your name and a tight hug, sunglasses perched atop his head and linen shirt half buttoned. 

It had been a year since he’d last seen you. You had kept in touch during the school year; Jace favoured Snapchat and FaceTime, delighted with the pleasure of seeing the mundane things you were up to. There was a nearly constant text thread, and voice memos passed back and forth. But, it all paled in comparison to physical company. 

He abandoned his housekeeping duties, keen to sit on the beach and talk. And you did so for hours, about everything and nothing. He tells you about his last year of school and listens as you do the same. When the sun dipped past the treeline, he leaned back on his elbows, watching the water crest on the sand. He felt more at ease than he had in a while, enraptured by the ease of your presence. The conversation flowed, there were no awkward lulls and no pressure to talk about something dignified. It was comforting to be so close to someone who didn’t see much of his life in London — you knew the best version of him. 

Your friendship had always felt like that, from a young age. On days that smelled of sunscreen and sea salt in his mind, you would meet in the mornings and depart past dark and then do it again the next day, never tiring of each other. Your parents knew his, so you had always been welcome in his home — invited or not. You had shared a bed during sleepovers, drunk from the same cup, and fallen asleep on the couch during movie nights countless times. Quick glances and imperceptible expressions were a language you communicated in, reading each other without words. In your presence, Jace was the most comfortable.

The summer slipped away as it always did, taking long nights and leaving memories of sand and sunshine. The days were ambled away in the water, on rocky hiking paths, or in the meadow that sat a mile away from all of the homes. 

Jace had started The Hobbit before school ended — most days he found himself sprawled out in the park or on the beach, reading. He had also taken to running with his dog, Vermax, in the mornings. He relied on the serotonin boost to start the day, and with no football to play a jog was a decent alternative. 

When the summer drew to a close, the typical melancholy that befell the return to the real world wasn’t present in Jace’s mind. He presumed it had everything to do with the fact that he would see you every day now

You have one college class together — a nine a.m. medieval literature discussion. 

Clinging to familiarity in the new environment, he glued himself to your side for the first week of classes. He memorized the way to your dorm, meeting you outside every morning to walk together to your first lessons. The meandering conversation was a good start to the day, and he silently relished in your tired eyes and quiet voice, not yet used to the early schedule. 

On Friday he all but begged you to come back to his dorm after the discussion; it was your only class that day so you had given in. You hadn’t seen his living quarters yet, and he wanted to spend time with you, worried for when your schedules would fill up and you would lose room for each other. 

The discussion had been mind-numbing. You reviewed the same syllabus as the lecture, and went over the same rules and policies as every other class. With the thirty-five minutes remaining, the teaching assistant made everyone watch an incredibly monotone video about the history of medieval England. 

Jace linked his arm into yours in the hallway after class, pulling you to the doors. The cool morning air was refreshing, waking you up more as you walked across campus. His dorm building was new and modern, seventeen floors with grey siding and big windows. It was private housing, clearly expensive. 

He had a single room with an adjoining bathroom and a small common space. The walls were typical dorm white, with laminate wood flooring. Joffrey’s school photo is hung on one wall, the frame clearly decorated by the child with glitter and string. Scattered across the other walls were photographs in thin silver frames, a large world map, a clock, and a cross-stitch of a rainbow stag beetle.

Sitting on the couch, you observed the unframed photos that lay across the coffee table, inspecting a leggy grey dog as you plucked it from the pile, “Who is this?”

Jace leaned into your side, gazing at the photo, “My mum’s dog, Syrax,” He reached over you to tap the picture, “Syrax is my dog’s mum.” 

He slipped his hand into yours as you walked with him to his second class of the day.

In the third week of school, Jace asks you to attend a mixer for a pre-law society with him. He doesn't know anyone, and doesn't want to be alone at the party. You meet at his dorm at a quarter-to-six so you can walk to the event together. 

The dress-code is emi-formal, and when he opens the door to you his hair is slicked back with water and he smells like his cologne — musk, sandalwood, and amber. 

“Are your clothes pressed?” You ask, grinning at his freshly ironed slacks and the three buttons undone on his shirt. 

He rolls his eyes, locking the door behind him as he escorts you down the hallway. The walls of the elevator in his dorm are mirrored, and you laugh at him when you catch him taking pictures of himself. He makes you take one with him, and sets it as his lock screen. 

The mixer was in the dean of law’s massive house, buzzing with young people in smart outfits. Jace abandons you about fifteen minutes in, spotting a group of poli sci majors from his social psychology class. 

From his childhood spent between galas and his mother’s business meetings, Jace was good at navigating these situations. He was charming, leveling the professors with charismatic smiles and confident posture. He was good at holding an intelligent conversation, discussing theory and strategy. 

You were on the patio, watching the stars, when he found you an hour later.

His arms brushed yours as he leaned against the railing, “Sorry for leaving you,” His voice was quiet, and he stared at your profile, watching the way the moonlight illuminated your skin. 

You wave his apology off and make him buy you coffee in recompense on the way home. 

You’re stood talking together on the quadrangle a few weeks later, a cup of hot chocolate warming your mitten-less hands, when you realise just how cold it’s gotten. It's just too cold for the thin jacket that you try to sink further into, hiding from the wind that bites at your delicate skin.

Jace watches you shiver, observing your lack of appropriate attire. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, reaching out to run his hands up and down your arms, half to warm you, half to gauge how thick your jacket is. Not very. 

You nod, “I didn’t check the weather this morning.” 

He sighs with exaggerated exasperation and slides his arms around you, careful of the paper cup you held. Of course, he’s worn the right coat, and you feel the downy material of his hood against your cheek as he rubs your back to generate some warmth. You smell the cologne on his collar and the expensive shampoo he uses; he grumbled something about taking better care of yourself. 

Then, one particularly cold Friday morning he has forgotten his coat. Dressed in a hoodie, he mirrors your excuse from the week prior, smiling sheepishly — face flushed from the chilly air, dark curls blowing around his head like a halo. You take pity on him, slipping your scarf off. You loop it around his neck, tucking the ends down into the collar of his sweater, and leave him with a fond peck on the cheek; his skin is cold. 

He's appreciative, though the scarf does little against the cold wind cutting through his sweater. Still, he doesn't give the scarf back. 

With the cold, comes midterms. You’re the first person Jace asks to study. 

Your dorm room is closer to the central part of campus, and thus a shorter walk in the bitter cold. Jace brushes snow out of his hair as you unlock your door, ushering him inside. It's small. Two twin-sized beds, one on each wall, with nary enough room for two bodies between them; a desk is crammed into the small space between your bed and the window. You let him take the desk, spreading your books and notes out across your bed.

Your dorm is old, and the room has very little ventilation. Despite the frigidity outside, the room is stuffy and almost hot with both of your bodies inside. An hour into studying Jace shrugs off his heavy, knit sweater and pushes his glasses up into his hair. 

“What are you working on?” You ask, leaning forward. You’re bored, working on the same power point you started yesterday. You want to talk to him, though he doesn’t seem keen on the idea

He doesn’t look up from typing as he speaks, “Analysing The Art of War.” 

You shut your laptop, bent on distracting him, “The book?” 

He nods but doesn’t give a verbal response. 

“Who's that by?” You ask, fighting to suppress a grin

This time he does look up, glaring at you over his glasses, “Sun Tzu.” 

His tone is short, but it's amusing to annoy him so you grin, suppressing a giggle, “Sounds very interesting.” 

“What do you want?” He asks after a beat, still holding your gaze. 

You shrug, “Nothing. I’m bored,” 

The next time you study is even less productive, school work discarded on his floor in a matter of minutes. 

“We can’t be trusted to work together,” He tells you, watching as you calculate his astrological chart, geometry homework forgotten. 

You attend your first college party together in November. When you arrive at his dorm, he’s dressed much more casually than normal. 

You reach out to tug at the thin silver chain peeking out from his shirt collar, “This is fun,” You tease, giggling, “Aiming to impress tonight?”

He rolls his eyes in mock-offence, turning you around by the shoulders to shove you out of the doorframe. 

The lights in the house are dim, and they strobe slowly through different colours. It’s too dark and too bright all at once. The music is almost unbearably loud and people are packed in like sardines, it’s all incredibly overstimulating. 

When he senses your unease, Jace takes your hand, pulling you tight against your side to lead you through the throng of bodies. He’s looking for someone, but you’re unsure who, and he canvases the whole space before giving up on finding them.

The backyard of the house is quieter, but the ground still vibrates from the bass of the music. People are scattered about, smoking cigarettes and sipping from bottles of cheap beer. 

You both learn what Jell-O shots are, and make out in the bathroom back at his dorm. It’s not the first time you’d kissed each other, trying it a few times in your adolescence just to see what it was like. But this is different, tipsy and sloppy, as you giggle into his mouth. 

It's forgotten in the morning, when you wake up in his bed still dressed in your going-out clothes, head pounding.

But then it happens again, the week before finals.

You had stayed at the library far too late studying, leaving the pair of you to walk back to his dorm in the dark. It's positively frigid, cold December air whipping snow into your face. 

There are still snowflakes in your hair as you shed the thick coat you’re wearing, pulling off your gloves and hat. 

There's a bottle of wine in Jace’s freezer, left by Aegon the weekend before. It's expensive and rich and red, and Aegon would likely skin you if he found out you were drinking it — but, that's part of the fun. There's a baking show on the small television, and you’re curled into Jace’s side to steal some of the warmth from his body.

When the program lulls he brings his hand to your hair, combing through the tangled strands. You pay it little mind, leaning into his touch as you watch a contestant on-screen whip macaron batter. His fingers slide down to your jaw, turning your head so your eyes meet his. He’s studying your face, cheeks flushed from the wine or the cold. 

The attention is odd, and you giggle nervously under his gaze. His hands come to cradle your jaw as he leans towards you, nose brushing yours. The air is charged with an unusual tension, his mouth a breath away from yours. 

When he kisses you, he’s slow and gentle, his whole body angled into yours. Everything feels warm, a welcome contrast to the weather outside, and you chalk it up to the glasses of wine coursing through your bloodstream. 

It's pleasant, different from times past; this certainly doesn’t feel like an innocent, experimental kiss. It's heated, tinged with passion. He uses the placement of his hand to ease your jaw open, tongue sliding slowly into your mouth. 

There's a vibe, something you hadn’t felt before with him. It's communicated through the gentle touch of his hands, and how his breath hitches when you kiss him back with the same sort of force. 

The moment is broken by the announcement of a winner on the television. His hands slide down, resting on your shoulders, pulling your frame into his. 

You don’t talk about it afterwards. 

[stemclann]

Hi! i’m going around asking different clangens for different clangen reccs bc I’ve been interested in reading more! Do you have any reccs?

Oh I DO !!!

A lot of the blogs I follow feature heavily stylised characters and colorful pages, wich I love. For some of them I'm not even quite caught-up but I just love seing their art coming across my dash because I love making my tumblr feed an inspiring place (don't we all) Also, I'm fairly new to the Clangen side of the WC community tbh, so some blogs featured here might be already pretty well known in the community.. But who doesn't love a nice shoutout <3 🥰 For some of these blogs I don't know wich pronouns their user might want to be used, so I'll refer to them as they/them.

☁️ First off, the blog that litteraly inspired me to start my own : https://www.tumblr.com/vaporclan @vaporclan // I just LOVE their character designs and expressions. plus the intrigue is REALLY GOOD. They also have a side-blog wich is very promising : 🐅 https://www.tumblr.com/tigeroftheskies

💧 Second one that I came across : https://www.tumblr.com/moons-of-dewclan @moons-of-dewclan // BEAUTIFUL artstyle. The composition of each page is gorgeous and the ambiance is always on point. Can't wait to read more about their traumatized cats.

🪴 @gray-thistleclan // I realize from the amount of notes that their art is already pretty well received in the community, but I LOVE the character designs featured on this blog, plus the intrigue is really unique and fairly new in the WC community (depending on if you were here when we all thought Bramblestar was gonna get rabies lol) But yeah, gorgeous art with very intense moments of drama!! Can't wait to read more!!!

🪩 splinterclan.tumblr.com @splinterclan // Artstyle is *chef kiss*, immaculate, very modern, I love the way they portray their character interactions it's always very believable.

🍄 https://www.tumblr.com/sporeclan @sporeclan // First of all how great is this Clan name --- Second, I found this blog throught the official Clangen blog, and fell in love with the way the artist composes her pages, it's beautifully done. Her colour palettes are also very pretty, and tho I'm not perfectly caught up with the intrigue I admit that I followed her when I saw the family tree she composed for her allegiances. Very efficient, beautiful, and the expressions are very cute.

🪷 @lotusclans-luck // This blog is kinda on hold right now but their artstyle is just a joy to watch, very delicious, I would eat it for breakfast everyday. Very 2D animation style, I can't wait to see more of their art in the future if they update it !

🐌 @snailstep-and-her-clan // The story here is really interesting, I love the main character, Snailstep, and her developement. Also, the character designs (I feel like I'm saying it about every blog ahahah) and colour palettes of this blog are so cute, unique, and original. I love when artists have fun with their palettes,, ugh...

🌿 @juniper-clan // This artist has been posting about his clan for almost a year now, and I LOVE how it evolved. It's very refined, the setting is unique and their characters have a beautiful depth that's a joy to explore. I can't wait to read more about Heronstar, she might be one of the characters I like the most out of all these blog listed. (With Snailstep)

��� loudclan-clangen.tumblr.com @loudclan-clangen // Very unique and interesting artstyle, designs are handeled with a lot of care and efficiency, you just can feel that the artist knows her characters on the tip of their fingers. Alos, character interactions / jokes are GOLD omg the writting is so good. I wanna be able to write such good dialogue that naturally (but the neurodivergence is holding me BACK fljgdjgs).

𓀒 fallenclan.tumblr.com @fallenclan // The story is immaculate and I can't wait to read more even tho there's so much lore that I know I won't be able to keep up entirely 🥹 But the artstyle is very efficient here as well and the character designs are very memorable. Once again, character interactions are on point and very natural, it's a pleasure for the eyes.

🦋 @the-blight-of-mothclan // Who doesn't love a good lineless artstyle ?! It's so pretty, and the soft colour palettes pleases my eyes a lot. Beautiful backgrounds also ! It must take so much time to paint those, couldn't be me 😭

And finally :

🎍 @black-buttercup-clangen // HUGE inspiration when it comes to palettes. I don't know how they manage to make their art so textured with such effective and "simple" (NOT derogatory, quite the opposite) details. The artstyle is SO effective and the colour palettes are just beautiful. Go check them all out they all deserve support and love <3 I hope I helped you discover some gem that you will like :D 🤌🏼 🎨 Also, for more discoveries, you should DEFINITELY check out @officialclangen - They often reblog some very interesting and cool blogs, that's how I came across a lot of these.

[fandomwriterstuff]

Betty

Remus Lupin x Reader, Remus Lupin x Sirius Black, Sirius Black x Reader, Remus Lupin x Sirius Black x Reader (fem reader)

Words: ~4.5k

Loosely inspired by Betty by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Angst, mentions of cheating, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mentions of unforgivable curses, non-explicit and vague mentions of sex, no use of y/n

Loving Remus was as easy as breathing, and felt just as imperative. 

You’d hooked up sixth year at a party, the both of you admittedly trying to get over your feelings for Sirius Black. What fell into place after that party was a relationship that was full of soft touches, kisses on foreheads, and study dates. Being with Remus gave you a warm fuzzy feeling in your stomach, something akin to having a warm bowl of soup on a cold wintry evening. He was comforting, and even though he was a member of the dashing and mischievous Marauders, and despite his lycanthropy, he stayed soft. He was consistent. He was your everything. 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this,” you barely even heard Regulus over the dull roar that was Hogwarts on day one of a new year. You sat with your house, your green tie neatly twisted into a pretty knot at your throat. Your fingers were tied in less-pretty knots, white-knuckled and clammy in your lap as you searched for your tall boyfriend. He was usually easy to spot, and you were worried when he hadn’t responded to your last two letters over the summer. 

“Sorry, what?” You turned towards your favorite Black brother, a concerned frown marring his usually unchanging, flat demeanor. He’d left his family this last summer and joined his brother at the Potter’s home, and he spent many pages writing to you about his annoying but growing feelings for James, and his confusing and mixed feelings on being in tight quarters with his brother again. A tiny part of your heart cracked and whimpered at mentions of Sirius, your first love and someone who you, despite all efforts, couldn’t get off your mind. 

You were very happy with Remus, and would never jeopardize what you had with him. You’d be lying though if you said you’d never thought about Sirius in a less-than-platonic way before. 

You shook the thoughts off and turned your attention to Regulus.

“I saw Remus this summer,” he started, gently. You thought it was rather unlike him to intentionally avoid what he was trying to say, and were immediately on edge. 

“Yes, he often spends time at the Potter’s,” you tilted your head a touch to the side, indicating that he should get on with his point. 

“He spent the summer with my brother,”

Again, an obvious observation. 

“Yes, they are best friends,” you frowned, not sure where he was going. In your peripheral you saw Barty and Evan alight upon the benches across the table from you, and as you turned to greet them, Regulus blurted it out in a rather un-Regulus-like way. 

“He spent the summer fucking my brother.” 

Your mouth opened, but you weren’t sure what to say. Nothing would come out. You felt like a grindylow was tearing your heart up with its little clawed hands. You were aware of Barty and Evan watching you very carefully, and although you were known in Slytherin as a very kind and outspoken person, the only thing that you could force out of your mouth was a whimpered “What?”

“I’ll kill him.” You weren’t sure if it was Barty or Evan who declared their intentions to tear your boyfriend limb from limb because at that very moment the four Marauders walked into the great hall and meandered over to the Gryffindor table without a single look towards you. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus looked genuinely dismayed to have put the look of dread and hopelessness on your face, but all you could think of was that it was your seventh year and you were supposed to spend it with Remus. You were supposed to see him in class every morning, first thing. 

The very first thing you did after discreetly making your way out of the great hall was cry in the girls bathroom for about thirty minutes before you figured out a plan. The second thing you did was beg your head of house to switch you from Potions to the only other class available at the time, Defense Against the Dark Arts. 

“It’s awfully late to be making this kind of change to your curriculum, but you’ve never caused me any issues before and you made excellent marks in all of last year’s classes,” he’d raised an eyebrow at you, looking down at his notes before nodding. “You better hurry, class starts soon.”

The first day of classes went by in a blur, you skipped lunch to gather supplies for your Defense class and return your potions textbook. It was dinner when things started to go awry. 

You were staring down at your empty plate, having been on autopilot all day until you had a moment to relax. When you looked into your lap, avoiding the burning urge to look over at Gryffindor table, you saw the red crescent-shaped indentations in your palms. You didn’t feel the pain of them until you saw them though, and realized you must have been clenching your fists as hard as you’d been clenching your jaw. You forced both to relax and took a deep breath, ready to engage with your friends when a shadow was cast over Regulus, who was seated next to you as usual. 

Regulus raised a disdainful eyebrow at your visitor, and you thought you were very lucky the dynamic duo were off fucking and too busy to kill Remus for daring to come speak to you. 

“Hey, love. Haven’t seen you all day, I thought we had potions together?” He phrased it like a question, and you didn’t turn to look at him. You didn’t think you could do it, even to ask him if it was true. If he’d slept with Sirius. 

“I’m not taking potions,” you replied, eyes glued on your empty plate. You wished there was food on it so you could at least pretend to be busy. 

Alas, Remus sat in the empty spot on your other side and attempted to make eye contact. 

“Is something wrong? Have I done something to upset you?”

“I don’t know, Remus,” you looked up then, calling on the thorny rage and ebbing sadness you felt to give your boyfriend the coldest stare you could. “Have you?”

He looked over your shoulder a moment, and you didn’t know what he saw in Regulus’ face, but his pallor turned to an awful shade of sun-bleached parchment. 

“I thought we could talk privately, maybe?” You felt all of that swirling emotion drain out of you at the pleading look in his eyes. You might be cross, but you still loved him. 

“Yeah, we can do that. Come on.”

You found yourself in an empty classroom, one the two of you had definitely hooked up in before under much more amorous circumstances. 

“Explain,” you appreciated that he wasn’t trying to reach out to touch you. He always was the more emotionally capable of the two of you, and he could read your needs like a book. 

“I wish I could have told you myself instead of you hearing it secondhand... You knew how I felt about Sirius,” he started, trying to catch your eye, but you steadfastly stared at your shiny black shoes. “I guess those feelings never went away.” There was a pause and you realized he was waiting for you.

“That’s it? Your feelings never went away? That’s all you have to say?” You were bouncing between numbness and a shaking, burning hot rage. “Neither did mine, but you don’t see me going to find him and have my wicked way!” Your voice was a bit louder than you planned, but fuck it. He’d cheated on you. “I can’t believe you. And you didn’t even apologize, Merlin,” you shook your head, drawing your hand over your face. “I trusted you.”

Your last words hit him like a brick, and he had the audacity to look wounded. 

“He has feelings for you, we talked a lot this summer. I thought maybe when we got back to Hogwarts we could talk about this and maybe we could all get what we wanted but then Regulus came to the Potter’s looking like he’d nearly died and Sirius was in shambles and…” he trailed off. “I know I did things the wrong way, and I am sorry.”

“So you’re telling me that you and I both have feelings for him, and he has feelings for both of us, and instead of writing me back like a normal person, you fucked him?” He flinched, and you almost felt bad. Almost. 

“I’m sorry. It only happened a few times, I told him I wanted to talk to you, and he agreed. We haven’t… We wanted to talk to you together.”

You scoffed a dark laugh. 

“Usually it’s the established couple inviting someone into a threesome, not one member of the established couple and his best friend with benefits,” you spat the words at him, and finally looked up at him. “You really know how to screw up a good thing.” For the first time, he looked frightened .

“Please, just talk to me, let me fix this. I can’t lose you,” He was backpedaling so fast, and you stood from the desk you were sitting on. 

“It’s over, Remus.” You walked towards the door and ignored his pleas for you to stay and listen, even though walking away from the one safe and consistent person in your life felt like swimming towards the surface when you had lead boots on.

The worst thing that I ever did

Was what I did to you

The next few weeks were full of Remus trying to find you, but you had very cunning and sneaky friends, and they helped you hide while you cradled and healed your broken heart. In fact, they were so good at making sure Remus didn’t get to you, that you were left alone in the Slytherin common room when you heard the door open and footsteps approach. Footsteps you didn’t recognize.

You figured it was just a first year or something, you had been preoccupied recently and hadn’t engaged with many of the new students. However, this person sat next to you. You peeked your eyes over the top of your book to see a head of long, shiny black hair and those eyes you’d dreamt of too many times. 

“You look beautiful when you’re angry, did you know that?” He offered you a smile, but not one of his usual charming ones. This one was more tentative, fragile. 

“I don’t have time for you,” you muttered and turned back to your book. Your Defense class was difficult, it had never been your forte. 

“I just want to talk,” he kicked his boots off and tucked his feet under him. 

“You look like you expect to be here for a while,” you raised an eyebrow, only glancing at him for a moment. “Shame.”

“You can’t shut me out. You’re not nearly as good at it as my brother,” he leaned forward and tilted your book away from your face. “At least let me apologize.”

You settled your bookmark into the old tome and set it on the ground. He was right, Regulus was way better at this. You were in your pajamas and feeling awfully vulnerable, and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“I’m sorry. I was… Distraught… When my brother came to James’ place and looked like he’d been crucio’d within an inch of his life,” Sirius’ face took on a faraway look, and you swallowed thickly. “I was seeking comfort, and Remus provided that for me. It only happened twice, and he told me it couldn’t happen again. He insisted we talk to you, tell you what had happened and explain,” here, Sirius looked down. “I was always jealous, you know. Of Remus for snagging you when I was still a reckless, no-good mess. I didn’t stand a chance. And also of you, you didn’t have the barriers I had with Remus. You didn’t have to be afraid of ruining your friendship with him, Peter, and James.” He sighed and made eye contact again with you. “I know what it’s like to only put your trust in a small circle of people, and I know what it’s like to have one of those people break your trust. I never wanted to be someone who hurt you, and neither did Remus.”

You pursed your lips and fought back the stinging in your eyes. 

“Why couldn’t you have just talked to me?” You were losing the battle against your tears. 

“I’ve never been good with words,” he murmured, and reached out his hand to you, not touching you, but offering you comfort. It had been weeks since you’d spoken to anyone who was willing to offer you comfort. There was only so much your emotionally-stunted friends could give you. So you took his hand. You let him pull you close, hugging you tightly as if he could hold you together as you unraveled. 

Your tears dried up after some time and you were left a sniffling mess on Sirius’ chest. 

“I can tell him to give you space, if you’d like,” he finally whispered, as if he didn’t want to break the fragile peace you had. 

“I don’t want space. I miss him,” you responded. “It hurts so much because I just want to forgive him and get a good cuddle and cry a bit. He’s the only person I feel safe with who I know won’t ever judge me,” you rubbed your eyes. Sometime while the tears were falling, Sirius had drawn a blanket over your lower half, a gesture you were thankful for, as your pajamas were not well-suited to the cold dungeon. 

“You can always talk to me, I can’t say I’m as calm or comforting as Remus. But I’m a good listener, and I give good hugs.” You tightened your grip on the older Black brother. 

“You do give good hugs,” you mumbled, eyes closed against the world. 

“How about this,” Sirius breath puffed into your hair, and you were so comfortable and exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster that you could feel yourself getting close to drifting off. “I can tell Remus to give you a tiny bit of space. You let me tutor you in Defense Against the Dark Arts. And maybe we could hang out, you and me? And maybe Remus?” You cracked an eye open to look at him skeptically. “I promise, I’m really good at defensive spells. And maybe we could all do a little self-care and healing together.”

You paused to think about it. “I could do that.”

“What’s this? Are you torturing my best friend more?” You didn’t hear the common room door opening, but luckily it was just Barty and not the lot of them. Unluckily, he didn’t sound to be in his usual chaotic and joyous mood.

“Stand down, Bee,” you sighed and untangled yourself from your embrace. “We’re having a heart to heart here, can’t you see?” You turned away from Sirius’ curiously pink cheeks and towards Barty’s tense figure, standing and straightening your night clothes. 

“As long as he doesn’t undo all the work we did to mend that heart,” he muttered pointedly and came a step closer. “You’re on thin ice, Black.” And with that, he disappeared into the dark hallway towards the boys dormitory. 

“Isn’t he usually a bit more manic?” Sirius inquired, following your lead and standing before lacing his boots back up. 

“He’s had a long few weeks of distract-Remus duty,” you muttered sheepishly. You only received a chuckle in response. 

“Your friends must love you to spend so much time diverting his efforts to get you back,” this time it was you blushing as you gently walked Sirius towards the exit. 

“They’re messy but I love them.” You looked at Sirius and gave him a slight smile. “Thanks for finding me.”

“You’re not going to be thanking me when I won’t get out of your hair,” he turned up the charm and flicked his hair over his shoulder. “Tomorrow after class, meet me in the library to study?”

You nodded, and after he left the common room you climbed into bed and sighed dreamily. You almost forgot what it was like to be swept up in someone’s affection. It made you miss Remus, and you fell asleep thinking about him. 

The next few days you sat with Sirius in your Defense class, and although he didn’t have to take notes because he had a natural proclivity for defensive spells, he did give you tips on your technique that you dutifully inked onto your note paper. 

You were in the library with him that Friday after class when he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, a cute nervous tick you noticed he had. It was subtle but you’d spent a lot of time looking at him over the years. 

“I’ve spoken to Remus about my intentions,” he finally said, which was enough to distract you from your essay. You wanted to finish it before the weekend so you could relax with your friends. 

“And what are your intentions, Sirius?” You wondered, and he broke into a smile. 

“To make you fall in love with me of course,” you huffed and rolled your eyes at him. 

“It’s not going to be hard, my friends had to give me an intervention in fourth year so I would stop talking about you.”

“In that case,” he was smiling still, and you were glad to have the camaraderie. “My intentions are also to help you talk to Remus.”

You didn’t tense up, per se, as one would have expected. Instead, your shoulders sagged and you let your eyes fall to your paper. 

“I want to talk to him but I just get this feeling when I think about him. I want to crawl into his arms but then I get so mad at myself for caving so easily. And then I get mad at him for making me feel such sharp-edged emotions.” You huffed a breath and frowned. “I just need him to agree to have angry makeup sex with me.” 

Sirius let out an incredulous, breathless chuckle at that. 

“Well if that’s what will help, I’m sure he will be more than amenable,” Sirius was grinning toothily from across the table. 

“You think so?” You peeked up from below your eyebrows and found your study partner nodding vehemently. 

“Honesty is the best policy. Just tell him exactly what you told me: that you miss him dearly, and you’ve done a lot of healing, but you have some unresolved anger and tension you want to get out with him by means of makeup sex.”  

“It sounds very easy when you say it like that,” you pondered it for a moment. “Alright. I’m going to get our man, and then I’m coming for you, Sirius Black,” you grinned down at him as you stood from the table, and to him it looked rather feline. The cat was finally going to get the cream. Except you had been waiting to kiss Sirius for years, and it was all finally coming together. 

Finding Remus was easy enough. You found Barty in the dungeons and he directed you to the astronomy tower, where Remus could be found doing his homework. You were informed that in an effort to give you space, he was avoiding the library. 

He didn’t look pitiful, which you were grateful for. He looked normal: hair tousled and soft-looking, the torchlight making his scars reflect a little, and eyes fixed on you as you made your way over to him.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was softer than ever, as if he didn’t want to scare you away. 

“I came to a realization,” you perched next to him, knees touching. 

“Did you now?” 

“I did. The realization I’ve come to is that you hurt me, and I forgive you,” he inhaled sharply, catching your eye as you gave him an apologetic smile. “The issue I’ve encountered is that I have some… let’s call it unresolved tension. I want to date you, Remus. And Sirius, too, naturally,” you rolled your eyes. “He wormed his way into my good graces. But I can’t enter a relationship in good faith if I’m feeling all of this pent up anger and tension.”

“So, what do we do about this unresolved tension and anger?” He asked you, so genuinely and sweetly that you almost felt bad about what you were going to ask. 

“I want to have makeup sex, I think it will make me feel better and make me feel close to you,” you paused, waiting for him to nod in understanding. “I want you to fuck me, Remus.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” He asked, though he was already leaning closer to you, and you knew you’d convinced him. Sirius was right, honesty was the best policy. 

“I’m sure,” you barely had a moment to breathe before he was on you, lips burning blazing trails from your lips to your throat and sucking on the tender skin he found at the junction of your shoulder. 

“Where do you want to go?” He asked between his kisses and your heavy breaths. 

“Can we go to your room?” You nearly begged. “Sirius said he’d distract Peter and James.”

Remus pressed a searing kiss to your lips once more. 

“I don’t know whether to love that you’re scheming with him, or fear it,” he chuckled before helping you up and leading you down the stairs by your hand. 

“I think you should love it, I was wallowing in self pity because I was angry and wanted you to fuck me senseless, and he convinced me to just be honest with you.”

“I’ll thank him later,” He was chuckling, joyous as the two of you made your way to the Gryffindor common room with haste. 

After he muttered the password and drew you through the common room and up into his shared room, he cast a silencing charm on the room and helped you onto his bed. 

Remus was secretly possessive of you, which you thought might surprise many who didn’t know him very well. And this time was no different. His languid exploration of your body kept you on the edge of pleasure as he sucked marks into your skin, your breathy moans of his name causing his eyes to darken. Remus was a generous lover, and you came twice before he finally fucked you, moaning into the room as he rather tenderly brushed a thumb across your sweaty forehead. 

“You’re doing so good for me, love,” his voice was like a balm to your soul, and in any other circumstances the whine you emitted when he drove into you next would have embarrassed you. As it was, it must have turned him on more because moments later he was pounding into you, your muscles clenching and eyes rolling back as ecstasy crashed over you. 

You opened your eyes some time later to find yourself freshly wiped down of any and all fluids, Remus’ arms wrapped around you in his bed. 

“Hey, sleeping beauty. You doing okay?” You nuzzled your face into his neck and mumbled a quiet “Yes.” Perhaps he sensed the hesitance in your voice, or felt the tension crawling back into your frame.

“Are you sure? Is there anything I could do to make you more comfortable?” Using what little strength you had left after the exertion, you pressed up onto your elbows to look down at him. 

“Do you think Sirius would like to come cuddle?” Remus blinked once, perhaps surprised, before a slow and gentle smile brightened his features. 

“I’m sure he would, would you like me to go find him?” You nodded your agreement, although it did mean Remus had to disentangle his limbs from yours. “I’ll be back soon, dove.” With gentle hands, he pulled his sheets up to your shoulders and you found yourself drifting off again, the warm woodsy scent you associated with Remus surrounding you. 

“Hey, beautiful,” fingers stroked over your bare shoulder, and you blinked against the light of the room to see Sirius sitting on the edge of the bed. 

“You were right,” your voice was scratchy as you turned beneath the covers to face the raven-haired boy. 

“Oh, was I? And what was I right about this time?” He was grinning, and you noticed a pile of messily folded clothes next to him. 

“Honesty is the best policy.” You shot him a toothy grin, and he chuckled. 

“Told you so,” he replied, and stood. “Moony’s almost done cleaning up, and he said you might want a bath, too.” He gestured to the pile of clothes, which you now noticed lay atop a towel. “I wasn’t about to brave the Slytherin dungeons, so you’re welcome to borrow some of my clothes.” Bashful was a look you hadn’t seen on him before, and you wanted to savor it. 

“You’re very thoughtful,” you breathed the words, sitting up and holding the sheet with one arm to cover yourself. “Thank you.” The blush on his pale cheeks grew, and you reveled in it. 

“I’ll just… Wait over on my bed,” a crooked smile was sent your way and he did as he said, closing the curtains to give you privacy. 

Once clean, you returned to the boys’ room to find Sirius and Remus sitting on their respective beds across from each other talking about the next quidditch match. You cleared your throat in the doorway, Sirius’ black pajama t-shirt and boxers covering your modesty as you shuffled in. 

“Don’t you look adorable,” Remus cooed at you, pulling you towards him by the hips and into his lap. 

“Come here,” you cut your eyes to Sirius, who’s glazed over eyes (you supposed seeing you in his clothes had done something for him) snapped to your face as he hurried over. “I know we all have a lot to talk about,” you scooted off Remus and onto the bed as you spoke. “But I would really like to cuddle right now, if that’s alright.” You held out a hand to Sirius, who was still standing, and pulled him down to lay with you and Remus. It was a tight fit, but you felt warm and loved and sleepy. 

With both their arms around you, and feeling better than you had in weeks, your eyes drifted closed and you were able to rest peacefully. 

That is, until James and Peter came back. 

You didn’t move when you heard the sharp inhale. 

“Pay up,” Pete’s voice was quiet, and you heard a metallic jingling as James reached into his pocket and dropped a few coins into Peter’s waiting hand. 

“You were betting on what, exactly?” You grumbled, leaning up on one elbow to level a glare at the two Gryffindors. 

“James thought it would take you another month to forgive Remus,” Peter replied. “I bet that it would be within a week of Sirius’ meddling.” He grinned at you. “I also get an extra five galleons because I told him we’d find the three of you together.”

“Sod off,” Sirius grumbled at them, pulling you back down into his arms. A giggle bubbled up out of your throat at the friends’ antics. Things weren’t quite back to normal, but you thought this series of events was even better than what you could have anticipated.

Masterlist

[ancient-and-gauntly]

Owl Post

Sebastian Sallow x Reader Warnings: None Summary: Sebastian notices you are upset about not getting post, so decides to write you a small love letter to brighten your morning

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sat at the your house table in the Great Hall, a slight frown marring your usually cheerful face. You absentmindedly stirred your porridge, glancing around at the students who were receiving letters and packages from their families and friends. The owls soared gracefully through the enchanted ceiling, delivering messages to eager recipients.

Sebastian, your new long term flame, was sitting a few seats down and couldn't help but notice your disappointed expression. He had overheard you complaining to Poppy about never receiving owl mail, finding the mornings in the Great Hall a bit less exciting compared to others. A mischievous smile played on his lips as an idea sparked in his mind. He decided that he would be the one to change that.

Late that night, Sebastian sat in the common room with parchment and a quill, carefully crafting a heartfelt letter to you. He poured his feelings onto the page, expressing the warmth and admiration he felt for you. He sealed the envelope with a dash of wax and pressed it so it was nice and tightly closed, grinning at the surprise waiting to happen. The next morning, before breakfast, Sebastian carefully made his way to the Owlery to choose and owl to deliver the special letter. He whispered his instructions to the her and watched as it soared off into the early morning sky, disappearing among the clouds.

As you entered the Great Hall that morning, you noticed the familiar fluttering of wings above you. A brown, pleasant looking owl descended gracefully, landing in front of you with a small note attached to its leg. Surprised, you took the letter and untied it from the owl's leg. You could hardly contain her excitement as you recognized Sebestians distinctive handwriting. You look over to him, giving him a questioning look but all he did was shrug and smile, going back to the food on his plate

Curiosity and delight danced in your eyes as you slowly unfolded the parchment and began to read:

My Dearest Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you in the best of spirits, and that the sight of this owl bearing my words brings a smile to your face. I've noticed the lack of owl posts in your life, and I couldn't stand the thought of your mornings being any less delightful than they should be.

There's something magical about the way your eyes light up when you're excited or passionate about something. It's a sight I've come to cherish, and it never fails to brighten my day. I've been meaning to tell you how much I love the way you look when you're lost in thought, a thousand galaxies swirling in your eyes.

Some of my fondest memories involve sneaking on to late night walks with you after curfew on those clear nights when the rest of the world was asleep and finding a nice quiet place to just look at the stars while in each others arms. Stargazing with you is like being transported to another realm, where time stands still, and it's just us against the vastness of the universe. Those stolen moments are etched into my heart, and I find myself yearning for more every day.

And I can't help but mention the small glances we share across the common room. It's as if our eyes have a language of their own, speaking volumes in silence. Those stolen glances, the unspoken connection, they make me fall more and more in love with you with each passing day. It's a love that grows stronger, deeper, and more profound.

For the first time in a long time, I feel at home. Not just within the stone walls of Hogwarts, but within the warmth of your laughter, the gentleness of your touch, and the genuine connection we share. You've become an important part of who I am becoming, and I can't imagine it any other way.

I know we've just started this journey together, and I want you to know that I meant every word I said that first night we spent together. I am planning on spending my life with you. Thank you for believing in me and seeing the potential that no one has seen before. 

Forever and Always yours,

Sebastian Sallow

As you reached the end of the letter, face hurting from the smiling it caused you couldn't help but look over at Sebastian once more, who was watching you with an expectant grin. You eyes met, and a silent understanding passed between the two of you. You mouthed a heartfelt "thank you" to Sebastian, your eyes sparkling with gratitude.

Sebastian just winks, a mixture of mischief and genuine affection in his gaze.

[cameoliob]

can i hear about the fic attempt please ?? very intriguing :3

Why of courseee

For context: This was a WIP that I started cooking up a while ago when I got hooked on Kallus' backstory with Jovan-- It's written from Jovans POV and it bounces back and forth between 19 BBY, when he and Kallus first met, and 2 ABY, when Kallus is sent to retreive Jovan from prison as a mission from the rebellion

“What in stars is this,” Jovan grimaced as he stared at the sheets of flimsi that had been unceremoniously dumped in front of him  “I can’t read this!”  “Should have come to class, then,” Alexsandr– Jovan really had to find a nickname for him, that was always a mouthful– said matter-of-factly as he sat in the empty seat across the table.  “I was sick!” Jovan shouted over the increasingly loud commotion of the dining hall. “I go to class whenever I get sick,” Alexsandr shrugged, digging through the various pockets on his bag.  “I had a fever!” “Right.” “I did!” Jovan crossed his arms and stared at the crumpled flimsi in front of him once more. “Would it kill you to keep your notes in a folder?” Alexsandr shot Jovan a look– he did that a lot– as he returned from his bag with a ration bar.  “You’re lucky I’m even giving them to you,” he said, pulling back the silver packaging from the bar, “I’m not usually so charitable.”  “Charitable?” Jovan gawked. “Mhm,” Alexsandr nodded, offering no other response.  “I give you my notes all the time! It’s only fair that you give me notes that I can read,” Jovan pointedly spun the flismi around and placed his finger on one of the many intelligible scribbles on the page, “what is that even supposed to say?”  “Uh,” Alexsandr leaned forwards to squint at the thing, “you're smart, use context clues,” he waved his hand dismissively.  “Oh wow, you’re so helpful. What a good friend you are,” Jovan drawled sarcastically, crossing his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah,” Alexsandr mocked Jovans tone, “the best.” He threw his now empty wrapper at Jovan. “What would you do without me?”  “Have legible notes, probably,” Jovan huffed. “You’d be bored, though,” Alexsandr said as if it were obvious. And as much as Jovan wanted to argue, Alexsandr was right.

^ 19 BBY

“Don’t touch anything,” Kallus snapped as Jovan entered the small common area of the ship. Jovan withdrew his hand from where he’d begun to reach for the flismi copy of a book that laid on the holotable.  “I wasn’t going to,” he lied. Kallus shot him a look and snatched the book from where it sat, opting to tuck it under his arm instead. Jovan huffed as he took it upon himself to slide into the seating by the table. He would be lying if he said he didn’t hope that Kallus would sit across from him.  Kallus remained near the far wall.  “You wouldn’t happen to have any spare clothes, would you?” Jovan drawled, pointedly staring down at the ill-fitting orange jumpsuit that hung from his shoulders. “Orange isn’t really my color.”  “Oh don’t worry, you look terrible in every color,” Kallus shot Jovan look that was half-smile-half-grimace. “I’d argue that I look dashing in green,” Jovan took to inspecting his nails. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, seeing Kallus so… irked by his presence. Although, that was a bit of a backwards thought, wasn’t it? Kallus was the reason he was in this disgusting prison uniform, anyways. “You’re colorblind,” Kallus narrowed his eyes.  “And I look great in red too.”  “You know what you’d look great in?” Jovan whipped his head up from where he had been staring at his nails. This is what he's been wanting, finally some banter-- at least, that's what he'd thought until he was met by the unamused expression on Kallus’ face. “The brig.”

^ 2 ABY

AHHHHHHHH I DONT KNOW his was just one of those things where I wanted to make it a comic about it but then I had way too many thoughts so I opened a google doc about it, but then I realized that I don't really write for a reason tbh

[theladywholivesonthemoon]

New follower, but I love your writing so far! I’m not sure if you take a request but would you consider writing something short about drawing astarion or giving him a painting of himself please?

WHAT DO YOU SEE

pairing: astarion × fem!reader

warning: none, just fluff!

a/n: my first ask! thank you, I hope this does your vision justice!

The crackling of the fire burning and nature itself is all Astarion could hear. He stared at the mirror in hand, but as usual nothing is shown. He twisted the mirror, turning his face from side to side, grunting at the nothing that is shown, until she walked behind him. She placed a hand on his shoulder, slowly as to not alarm him. He turned to her, a scowl glaring on his face in his surprise.

"Hello, my love. What is it?". Astarion tried to smile, that grin he used when he wished to hide something from her, usually a fear of his. But it never worked, not on her.

"I should be asking you that". She caressed his cheek, him nuzzling into her palm. "Is it because of the mirror?"

"Well, yes" He said, his voice small and faint. "I... I wonder what this face looks like, sometimes. It is petty vanity, but still. I have never seen this face, after I was turned, I can't even remember the color of my eyes. I want to know what people see- what you see, when you look at this face". Astarion takes her hand, bringing them closer together, his eyes never leaving hers. Wonder swam around in his red eyes as his gaze locked on hers, curiosity and fear of rejection brim on his look until she spoke once more.

"I see you. A piercing gaze that strikes anyone that it touches. Your curls that swirl around when wind brushes against them. The laugh lines across you face that make your smile shine brighter than any star. Astarion, you are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, and I have lived a long time". She placed a hand against his chest, rubbing softly as he almost purrs at the action.

"Well, my love. I'm glad you like me, but truly, who wouldn't fall for this charming visage?" He said and they both giggled, covering their mouths as to not wake the others at camp. The conversation seemed to have been put to an end as the vampire took her hand as he lead them to their shared tent, but she tugged against his hand, her lips curling into a welcoming smile. She pulled away, leaving a confused Astarion to sit in one of the fluffy cushion placed beside his tent as she pattered to her bag, taking out a notebook overflowing with cutouts and notes scribbled onto misplaced papers. She walked towards him, sitting beside him in one of the cushions. Astarion stared in confusion as she summoned a brush and opened the notebook in an empty page and started tugging the brush up and down the paper as he watched.

"My love, I had no idea of your talent to the arts. May I ask, what is it that you draw so fiercely?" Astarion gazed as her brush passed through the ink on the carefully opened jug beside her bag and back again toward the page.

Slowly but surely the image of a man starts to form, pointy elven ears and all. A dashing fellow, complete with a well embroidered cravat, jewels strung like necklaces draped over his shoulders and to complete the look a big smile on his face seemingly brightening up the entire page. Soft hair curls around the elf's ears, perfectly arranged on top of his head, smile lines framing his sweet smile, soft dots pitter around the face. The woman keeps swirling her bush without so much as a response to Astarion, making the vampire even more confused until she smiles softly at the picture on the page and puts the bush down. She wordlessly hands over the notebook to Astarion who stills gazes at it confused.

"Oh, this one is quite a handsome fella isn't he? Ha ha". The vampires laughs nervously, but as the silence it seems to finally click in his mind who this is. "Is this-". His hold on the notebook turns shaky as the woman nods, slowly moving one hand to his to steady his slight shaking.

"This is who I see when I look at you. A man, one who has been hurt many times, but still finds hope within himself, so much life. I see you in your love for embroidery, turning that old cravat we found while looting that castle into a piece of art. I also see you in the patches in my clothes, which I didn't even ask for, but you stitched them anyway. I see your beautiful smile which turns any dark night into a bright sunny day while you focus so hard when enjoying a book, I love it so much when I see that smile directed at me. I see the lines on your face, telling so much history while you stand right here in front of me- living. As much as an undead can live, though". Her laugh turned into a snort, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Astarion laughed with her, wiping stray tears that escape through the side of his eyes. “Astarion, you are so beautiful, I can’t even express them in words. Beautiful inside and out, my dashing vampire”.

"I am quite wonderful, aren't I?". Once again they laugh together as he tugged her into his lap, hugging each other tightly while enjoying the fire sizzling in the middle of camp, welcoming them both into a night full of stars.

"Oh love look! A shooting star! Make a wish". She pointed her arm toward the rapidly passing star and Astarion hummed in thought, encasing his hand on hers, bringing them closer to his body.

"I doubt anything I'd wish could beat this". He smiled, his eyes downcast as they gazed at her lovingly. With relaxed shoulders and feeling a calm he hadn't felt in oh so long, he pulled her closer, his lips finding hers in a slow, languid kiss. They kiss softly, not in a rush, as the silence of the camp welcomed them both, leaving their love undisturbed, until the sun shines in the sky again and their travel to Baldur's Gate continues.

[trulybetty]

Sunday | Week In Review I

So in order to try and be consistent with this, I’ve kept a running Notes page open to keep track of my week.

As I mentioned last week, I don’t expect this every week, I am me. But I am going to keep trying to make an effort to support my fellow creators.

If there’s something you’ve enjoyed this week, please feel to reblog this and tag me so I can check it out and share 💙

Also, not that I feel it needs to be said, but this is a reflection of what I have personally read and enjoyed.

B x

Truly Betty Updates This Week…

New York Part I (Marcus Pike x f!reader)

Fics I Enjoyed This Week…

Conversations with a Movie Star | Chapter 1 by @gnpwdrnwhiskey Even if you’re not a fan of Dieter Bravo, the dialogue in this alone is worth checking out this opening chapter for this new fic. Ava is an OFC down on her luck after being fired, from her families paper no less, and has stumbled across the Bravo Inn… I’ll let Lellen’s writing do the rest

Stripper Jack Trilogy | P. III by @psychedelic-ink The conclusion of maybe the definitive trilogy of trilogies? I don’t think anyone had Stripper Jack on their 2023 bingo cards, but he’s earned his space and I won’t have any arguments on it. 

Hungry Hearts | Chapter by @atinylittlepain Not many Joel AU’s I’ll jump into, but Bruce Springsteen and Joel Miller? Signed myself the fuck up for that as soon as it was announced. The unfolding of Joel and Cherry's relationship in the summer of '86 against them running back into one another 17 years later is such a great dynamic. 

Fall Apart Again | Chapter 1 + 2 by @wildemaven Heidi spoiled us this week, with not one, but TWO chapters of her new Joel fanfic. I don’t think I’ve gotten so emotional over an opening chapter to a fic before like I did with this one! Then the second chapter? Just bury me now… but actually don’t, I want to see the end of this fic first!

The Layover | Chapter 9 by @goodwithcheese How did Megan describe her fanfics? Hallmark movies with smut? She's not wrong. This whole series so far has been a rollercoaster of emotions and keeps delivering each week without fail. Not only are you rooting for Reader + Frankie, but Jules and Santiago anyone? Or maybe just Jules herself because she's just the boss.

Late Night Texts | Chapter 9 by @mvtthewmurdvck I think it's safe to say it's fanfics like Late Night Texts that have got me back in my rom-com/hopeless romantic era. I don't want to give too much away if you've not had the pleasure of reading this - but it has all the hallmarks of a good rom-com set on the backdrop of the early 2000s and with Javier Peña. If you're like me and still trying to make your way through Narcos or haven't watched it yet - please don't let it stop you, you won't be sorry!

A Little FaceTime by @stardustandskycrystals I’m still thinking about this fic days later and may have gone back to read it again. Trust me, just read this - you don’t need an explanation or reason, just read it. Even if Javi isn’t your jam (wasn’t on my list before, that’s all changed now) - it won’t disappoint!

Things I’m Looking Forward to Starting…

Decoherence by @prolix-yuy Westworld and Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels crossover, yes, please! It is also reminding me that I never finished season one and should do something about it…

Pleased to Meet You by @intheorangebedroom This is a constant on my dash and on my TBR pile for a while with so many good comments - also getting into my Frankie era, so it’s perfect timing!

The Pilot & His Girl by @avastrasposts Been waiting to savour this one! So you’ve got the Last of Us and you’ve got Triple Frontier, two of my favourite things… what happens when you mush them together? You get a wild ride through the outbreak with Frankie & Reader - I cannot wait to get into this!

Visiting by @ladamedusoif This is another regular on my dash and on my TBR that I’m hoping to get stuck into this week. A college AU of Mr. Ben from the SNL sketch. Fully fleshed out and on the backdrop of New England, I’m ready to get swept away with this promise of a slow burn.

The House by @gemmahale A Jack Daniels x OFC (Best Friend) series coming soon focusing on a long-lost friendship, an inheritance, and Jack sounding like the scallion he is? Cannot wait.

Posts I Enjoyed This Week…

@rhoorl’s announcement of their Triple Frontier AU, Delta Landscaping with mood board and logo! The residents of Tumblr won’t know what’s hit the neighbourhood when they roll into town! 

Thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey I will never look at baby hippos without thinking of Dieter Bravo

Everyone’s participation in the WIP poll tag game, it was so fun to see my dash just filled with so many creative people and so many amazing ideas! It was a neat peek into everyone’s draft folders!

Things I’ve Enjoyed This Week…

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - FINALLY got to see it this week, and it did not disappoint. Have not stopped thinking about it since!

My rom-com era has returned, and I’m deep into embracing my forgotten love of a good rom-com. So far this week it’s been The Lake House, You’ve Got Mail & Always Be My Baby. Also it gave way to a Keanu Reeves appreciation post, come share your favourite Keanu!

This Week’s Song… Went waaaayyyy back for this one, an amazing album too - the Sterephonics are one of my favourite bands of all time 🩶

Hope everyone has a great Sunday & here's to a new week!

Please feel free to share your own favourites from the week or what you're looking forward to this week - not a tag game, so no pressure for you to share if you're not feeling it ❤️ xx

[adayinflash]

Dashing Upon the Rocks, You Enchant Me

TWs: None

            I was entranced from the very first time I saw you. Sat at the bar amongst friends, your laughter rang out, over the abrasive music, so bright and warm that I couldn’t tell if I was sobered in awe or intoxicated by that siren’s call. Before I could think, I found myself diving into the throng, pushing through the mass of people, coming up for air whenever I found a lull, trying to reach the dry land that you stood at the center of.

            And when I broke the surface, crawled up onto your beach, your eyes, peeking over the rocks of your drink, were dusted with flecks of gold so fine I felt as though I had set my eyes upon the sun rising over the horizon. And though I could feel myself burning up, you regarded me coolly, and were kind enough to allow me to introduce myself. I left you that night with nothing more than my name and a number, while you left me bewitched, convinced that if I never heard from you I could never love again.

            Years later I found myself in front of the altar, as flushed as I was the night I met you, this time from the embarrassment I made of myself stumbling over the vows I had been writing since our third date. The words I had written swam on the page, and the ones I pulled from my mind had come across as gibberish, no matter how they seemed to me before I voiced them. But your eyes were feather soft as I slid my ring onto your finger, a silver band with a stone reminiscent of those very eyes that ensorcelled me from the start, a black opal encapsulating shards of iridescent gold. And when you placed a ring on my finger, I saw that you had gone through a similar thought process, landing on a ring set with a thousand-layered tiger’s eye, the striations catching sunbeams floating through the stained glass windows.

            We went to get our rings resized last week. Life has treated us well, as unfortunate as that may be for our wardrobes. And even now, as you sleep, I look at your eyelids, hiding those stunning opals that I could never forget, trace the crow’s feet in the corner of your eye with a finger, feel the somewhat dried and stubbled skin of your cheek on the palm of my hand, run my other hand through the hair that once matched your eyes and now matches cloudy skies, and I find myself as entranced by you as I always have been.

[rockyroadkylers]

WIP Wednesday!

I was tagged by @ssmtskw and @littlemisskittentoes this time! (both your fics look SO GOOD)

I'm really excited this week because. Okay, listen. I started a new WIP. I had, like, five already, but we were talking in the server last week about how there are almost no "Alex fell first" fics, which is kind of understandable because it's hard to come up with a scenario where it would be him instead of Henry, BUT! I was thinking about it a couple days ago, and I swear, it was an actual lightbulb moment.

Everyone who's read the book knows Alex had a massive crush on Henry way before he realized it for himself, and I'm convinced that crush goes all the way back to the days of J14 magazine. I mean, come on, sneaking into June's room to touch a picture of Henry's hair? Multiple times? 😂 Alex, bless your heart, babe.

Anyway, that led my train of thought to Alex getting snubbed at Rio, and the whole concept of unrequited crushes, and then came the lightbulb moment: Hanahaki AU. I've seen a few where Henry has it, but only, like, one where Alex does. And now there will be another! This is not the kind of vibe I usually go for with my writing, but it's been fun to branch out!

It's, um, slightly evil (big whumpy angst vibes), as I have already been told several times by multiple people in the server who have seen snippets, but I'm having so much fun writing it. So, here's a snippet from my newest WIP, which will either be titled "i picked the petals, he loves me not" OR "come and meet me in my garden"

---

Alex has been snubbed by political peers plenty of times before, and he would be probably snubbed by plenty more, but for some reason this rejection had hurt a hell of a lot more than any other. His heart had dropped into his stomach when Henry turned away from him, with that look on his face like if he didn’t get away from Alex fast enough, he might give him fleas.

The thing is (and it’s kind of embarrassing to admit, even to himself), Alex used to look up to Henry. Until pretty recently, as a matter of fact.

Recently, as in, about two hours ago.

He’d always been aware of Prince Henry as a general concept. The royal family is always in the news for some reason or another, so Alex grew up seeing candid shots of Henry with his parents and siblings in magazine spreads, in waiting rooms and grocery store check-outs. But he can still remember the first time he saw a picture of Henry in one of June’s magazines where he hadn’t been with the rest of his family, just featured on his own in one of those locker-sized tear-out posters, with his name printed across the page in big block lettering and a little blurb about his hobbies in the corner. Henry had looked so bright, and happy, and full of life, and easy-going. Alex had been maybe a little bit obsessed with that picture for… a solid two years. Though his obsession with the boy in the picture ended up lasting much longer.

For all the fucking good it did him, in the end.

How does the saying go? Never meet your heroes. Alex gets it, now.

If Henry really is the reason he’s spending his evening coughing up flowers instead of getting wasted at the diving finals with his sister and best friend, Alex doesn’t know if he should be madder at Henry for being a dick, or at himself for being naive enough to believe they could be friends.

---

I think I've already seen some of these people's posts on my dash today, but I'm gonna go ahead and tag @read-and-write-, @suseagull04, @affectionatelyrs, @inexplicablymine, and @anincompletelist!

[the-trans-folk-witch]

An untimely intro: Numb and hollow

Howdy folks!👋

This “blog” or cringey tumblr page is a battle cry at best- maybe a cry for help at worst. A plague of words ensues…

Grammar, punctuation and clever wording misses me despite being educated on writing formal statements/grants at a postgraduate level 🤡. Enjoy the occasional plot twist, gobsmack, misplaced comma, and tone-deaf emoji use. This “blog” is a mix of occult texts, free books, zines, and works made by me and others. It is a crossroads of formalities and comedic slander. And the occasional look into my thoughts.

I’m sure anyone reading this already knows me from Instagram and my now late podcast of the same name as this blog. So I won’t waste your time reintroducing myself and my goals. You know my brand, and roughly, my views despite how they may have changed since we last spoke. My goal here is to write more and slowly ease into the release of my first book and my second zine. I want to relive my edgy tumblr days with a more anarchistic approach than before. I invite you to join me. maybe this will help me learn how to avoid run-on sentences… or what fonts the public will judge me for using. (Comic sans girlies rise up). Perhaps I’ll learn to use parentheses and dashes correctly for once. Time will tell.

Now that I’ve fed you an over-cooked appetizer, let’s move on to the meat of the discussion. This is an update on my writings of the Guardian Angel and the other texts I have been forming. It has been a year in the making and hopefully I will be done with it this summer. It will not be long. It is a free book styled to appear as a cheesy church pamphlet. It is UPG laced with the some dogma from the Catholic church and the occasional hint of Protestant revivalist churches from the hills. I plan to reinvigorate the use or relation to the Holy Guardian Angel (HGA) in a roundabout way that incapsulates my own practice while leaving room for yours. I want it to be used as a guide, But not as a Bible. Hopefully it will come across as well as I intend for it to. It has been harder than I imagined.

Now for the long term plans for this blog. As of now, my podcast is on hold. So consider this it’s child despite the difference between my written voice and my informal speaking voice. The podcast is canned. Possibly forever. I may come back to it. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe years from now. I’m sure you all caught onto that. I have removed most every episode. The only ones available are ones that I had friends guest star in. Thank you to all of you who helped me become who I am today in this community. Even though as of now my following is only 500-600 people, it’s bigger than I’ve ever been anywhere before. I’m rather private. In fact that’s why I’ve removed most of my podcast. As many have been told, I have been receiving a lot of hateful messages from terfs and neo-pagans. Topics such as transphobia and anti-folk-catholic shit has taken over my inbox on many platforms. However, this is not the only reason I’m stepping back from my podcast. I recently graduated from school and I am working on my career. I have decided to make myself less accessible to the public for my mental health but also to focus on privatizing my practice. I want to revolutionize my followers and to have proper discussions surrounding witchcraft that make people uncomfortable. I want an interaction that my podcast could not allow. I want to write in lengths and words that Instagram does not allow. I feel as though I’ve lost my voice since my early college days when I wrote daily. I hope to strengthen my bonds with those I’ve met online while closing myself off to those who I do not trust. Making a public blog is not the way to go about that I’m aware. But who uses tumblr? 😂. This is a starting place. I may one day put a price tag on my writing. Definitely for my other books and zines I have been working on this past year. But until then, enjoy my ramblings.

Dialogue is always welcome. Oh, and don’t make a fumblr account just for me. My blog is accessible on a browser without a log in. I’m not chasing likes. I’m just typing into the void.

The trans folk witch, out ✌️ 💋. My Links

[jmflowers]

My dash has been a bit sad lately, as if we’re all simultaneously going through a shift in our lives that’s making us feel off-kilter. So, in pursuit of finding the good in my own life…

Gratitude Challenge!

Here are 10 things I’m grateful for and/or proud of myself for accomplishing since the start of 2023 (and/or in the last year if 5 months is too short a period of time for your brain). Please feel free to play along!

1. I finished college with a 4.0GPA after 3 years of hard work. I can’t wait to walk across the convocation stage in June. (And I’m the first in my family to have a diploma from a post-secondary institution!)

2. I directed a large scene in a short film as part of the graduating class’ final production. It was difficult and exciting and we were able to work with cinema-level equipment. I’m so incredibly proud of what my team and I were able to accomplish. (3 7/8 pages in 3 hours!)

3. When I started to feel my mental health deteriorating back in February, I sought support and counselling to help myself cope. Being honest about the pressures I have been facing for years is allowing me to place necessary boundaries as those pressures resurface. Taking care of yourself is difficult in this industry, but making choices to hike and run and exercise when possible are other great ways I’ve been protecting my overall well-being.

4. I completed another large piece of fiction that required several weeks of work and attention, with additional background efforts to fully form two of my own original characters. I am really proud that they read fleshed out and honest alongside characters that are already known from the source material.

5. I became an aunt again two times over. I was able to adjust my school schedule in order to be present with E as C was arriving, and then spend the first week of C’s life with them both. Once I finished school, I made the time to go meet L as well and spend time with her mum, one of my oldest friends. My first nephew is due to arrive any day now.

6. When situations were uncomfortable, I made conscious choices to leave and excuse myself from the discomfort or actively stay and rewrite the traumatic memories that were making me uncomfortable. Having the power over my reactions in situations that make me feel out of control is wildly liberating. I look forward to working on that more as I continue to grow.

7. I’ve leaned into being vulnerable more often in the last 5 months than ever before in my life. It’s terrifying every single time and yet I keep doing it.

8. I read a book a day one week when I was feeling really anxious, as a coping mechanism. I haven’t read that fast or that consistently since I was a teenager. I can’t wait to do it again.

9. I started practicing writing amidst changing locations and constant distractions with the three sentence fic challenge (while TAing). I had a lot of fun and got some interesting stuff out of it. I’m really looking forward to writing a bunch more again, especially in less-than-ideal conditions.

10. I won a scholarship! That was elected by the teaching administration I was working alongside at my college. The money, whenever I get it, will be really beneficial to help pay off my growing debt.

Consider this a formal tagging for anyone who would like to do this, too! I’m going to call out @lacallemojada, @cuteasducks9, @slipperygaloshes, @drlaurenb, @englishstrawbie, @trying-to-get-somewhere-real, @thebroken--soul, and @heyfarfallina

[bluespring864]

Hello :)

I've noticed that you've been showing a bit of an interest in Discworld lately.

So naturally, being very much into Discworld right now, I can't just ignore this. :D I don't know how interested you actually are of course, but I'd still like to try and nudge you towards starting it rather sooner than later. Obviously no pressure - I know how it is, sometimes you just don't want to get into something new, let alone a 42-volume book series. :D (Although you don't have to commit to reading all of it right away; most books can stand pretty well on their own.)

It's just that I'm quite certain – no, actually I'm even inclined to say I know – that you would love Discworld. This might come across a bit presumptuous, especially since I don't actually know you. But judging by your interests and generally what I see of you on my dash, I would be very surprised if Discworld wasn't right up your alley.

Because even leaving aside characters and storylines, the writing alone should be a major draw. I regularly marvel at the masterful way in which Terry Pratchett uses language: as a means of characterisation, to convey an idea or even just to describe someone's facial expression - and of course to make us laugh.

And the puns, oh the puns! They're probably what made me fall in love with his writing in the first place. Can't resist a good pun. I could provide examples if you want. :D

I won't get into characters, themes or what have you right now because this ask is long enough as it is. One thing I want to say, though, is that I feel like a lot of the messages conveyed in those books would resonate with you, because you strike me as a very compassionate and caring person.

So, to come to an end: If you need any more information or incentives to get into Discworld or are still on the fence about how or where to start, feel free to ask me anything. And in case you will actually start reading the books, I'd be more than happy to exchange thoughts or just gush about stuff. :D

PS: I hope you had a lovely christmas and wish you all the best for the new year*. :)

*Isn't it somewhat annoying that English doesn't have an adequate translation for "Guten Rutsch"?

This is definitely the nicest thing I've had in my inbox all year, you lovely person <3

I am still to this day confused as to why I never read any Terry when I was a teenager. I assume the local library didn't have a lot of his books or put them so far in the boy's section that I never really noticed them (and why tf were the teenage books gendered, I hope that's not the case anymore... hm, now I'm wondering whether I'm remembering this right, but I really think there were boy's and girl's sections). I picked one of his books at random a few years back and read it on holiday, jetlagged (it was a bit confusing, because of the jetlag and because I think I picked something that belonged somewhere in the Discworld universe without me ever having had a real introduction to it) but I still liked it, and have been meaning to read more Discworld ever since.

Unfortunately, when I read that book I had just started a demanding job that often requires me to speedread through hundreds of pages in a few hours, which has left me with much less capacity to read for pleasure. The books are literally piling up around me. But I will get round to Discworld one day, I'm sure of it, not least because of your glowing recommendation! And as soon as I do, I will most definitely let you know so we can be language and literature nerds about it together ;-)

[crookedherringcolorclod]

MORTAL DELIGHTS (Akemi and Yui, ft. Maya)

(OC of @summercreolefanfictioner )

A/N: Damn I’ve been working on this for 3 weeks… I hope you guys like it, I worked really hard on this and asked Summer just to make sure I portray Maya right. Who knows? I might write another oneshot with Maya featuring another sister. 👀

Time has passed through Yui’s fingers as she spent weeks and months in the Sakamaki Manor. It felt odd to her that she could have died so many times and yet she’s still alive… Was it because they wanted to toy with her? Or was it because of those female vampires protecting her? As if that wasn’t enough, her world turned upside down once more when that girl… the new doll-like maid who never spoke a word. Maya Sakamaki.

Not that it mattered to Yui, if anything, she was happy to have another girl in the manor, a human girl to be exact. Deep down, Yui even hoped that she could spend more time with Maya soon and they can do simple things like baking or having sleepovers in each other’s rooms. Yui kept thinking to herself as she looked through the library, trying to recall where a certain book was placed. “If I remember correctly, I think that book is supposed to be around here?” Yui muttered quietly, her hand stops at a leather book, the book was too high up and it cause Yui to stand on her toes in hopes to reach it.

Eventually, Yui just barely managed to take the book off the shelf and almost fell to the ground, book in hand. “That was close…” Yui sighed in relief, pressing the book to her chest as she tries to calm down. Curious, Yui finally opened the book and flipped through the pages, only for her to find herself confused by the contents. ‘This language… I don’t think I’ve seen this one yet…’ Yui thought to herself, her eyes darted through the letters and pictures, and she could only deduce that she did get a book about pastries.

“Bitch-chan, what are you reading? Is it something naughty~? Nfu~“ Yui could only yelp in shock as she took a few steps back only to find the fedora-clad vampire’s green eyes staring right at her, his smile seemed to grow wider as Yui grew more nervous.

Laito’s cat-like green eyes scan through the book in his hands “Hmmm? Can you even read this, my silly little bitch? The text is in French you know?” the vampire cooed towards the human, Yui could only keep her mouth closed, too scared to talk back. “French is such a beautiful language, ma petite chienne. It feels good on the tongue and pleasant to the ears.” Laito sighed in pleasure, a blush forming on his cheeks as if he were reminiscing about a lover. Yui’s pink eyes darted in different directions, her hands started to feel clammy as she continues to try and find a way to escape.

That is until Laito said something that caught her off guard.

“The way Akemi speaks gets me so aroused, till this very day. After all, that man found that pretty little thing in France and brought her to us.” Laito laughed heartily as he recalls the day, he first laid his eyes on her.

A slim body shivering on a winter night, sapphire her blue eyes were blown wide like a frightened fawn, and yet still so willing to bite back.

Yui can feel her cheeks flush with embarrassment at what the vampire had just said. Yet she couldn’t help but perk up when Laito mentioned Akemi. “Is that true? You found Akemi-san in France?” Laito gave the petite human in front of him a Cheshire grin “Why yes, she can! But my little bitch, wouldn’t you rather have me as your tutor? Think of all the fun we could have-“ Not letting Laito finish his sentence, Yui dashed out of the library as quickly as her legs can carry her before the fedora-clad vampire could be shocked at her sudden disappearance. As Yui ran across the hall, she finds herself at another vampire’s chambers with the owner of said chambers fast asleep, her long golden hair framing her face like a golden halo.

“Akemi-san”

“Akemi-san”

“Akemi-san”

“Akemi-san… can you help me make this pastry?” Confused and disorientated, Akemi rose from her bedsheets to look at the trembling human before her. “Hmm? Can you say that again? I didn’t hear you.” Akemi yawned, brushing her blond curls away from her face. Trying to find her confidence, Yui points at a picture in the book in her hands. “This one? I don’t know how to pronounce this… or even know what it says…” Yui mumbled in shame as sleepy blue eyes scanned the book in front of her.

“Ah, you want to make clafoutis? Why is that?” The vampire asked as she slowly rolled out of bed, adjusting her nightgown to appear more modest before the human. “My apologies, dear. You caught me at a bad time.” Noticing this, the human started to sputter, covering her eyes with her hands to preserve Akemi’s dignity as the vampire gave Yui a gentle smile. “Hey, don’t act so shy, we’re both girls here. I’ll help you bake some pastries.” Akemi laughed at Yui’s reaction while she got out of bed and walked to her wardrobe. “Do you mind if we meet in the kitchen in a bit? I still need to… get changed.” Akemi explained carefully, her hands motioning to her nightgown.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way” Yui nodded excessively; her lips pursed. “I’ll try to be quick. Can’t afford you running into one of the triplets behind my back. Please don’t wander around too much.” Akemi hollered out from her dressing screen, throwing her nightgown off to the side to get her skirt and top laid on top of her chair. Yui nodded, “Ok… I’ll do my best. Thank you, Akemi-san.”

While the human made her way out of her room, Akemi gazed out of the window, seemingly lost in thought, silence fills the room. The vampire sighed, now dressed, and looked at herself in the mirror even if her face remained unchanged for all those years. “There’s nothing to be grateful for when you’re a feast for inhumane men until they spit you out.”

In the 17 years of living on Earth… Yui would have never thought she would make pastries with a vampire of all things.

‘Oh, I have to mix the dry ingredients while Akemi- san is pitting the cherries.’ Yui thought to herself as she grabbed the eggs from the tray and cracked them one by one into the bowl. ‘Who would have thought that someone like Akemi-san would cook? Actually… now that I think about it, Amaya-san also wasn’t as scary as I thought she would be. If anything, they all act more like humans.’ Yui pondered, pursing her lips shut just in case she accidentally says something out loud.

“Oh, I haven’t asked you yet. Yui, who is this pastry for? Is it for the little newcomer?” Akemi asked, her hands making quick work of removing the cherry seeds and tossing them into the nearby bin she placed beside her. Yui looked up to the taller woman beside her as she continued to mix the ingredients, “Y-yes, that’s right. I thought it would be nice if we made something for her since she just arrived…” Akemi nodded at Yui’s explanation, letting out a small hum, “Is it as a surprise of sorts? It’s just that if you wanted this as a surprise, I can’t exactly help with hiding it. None of us are.” Akemi explained carefully, recalling the fact that Maya didn’t smell like anything when she first arrived.

Before Akemi could talk more, Yui let out a small yelp which caused Akemi to stop cutting the cherries in half, her knife not leaving her hand. Across the kitchen counter stood a petite young lady dressed in a traditional maid outfit, her black hair framing her expressionless face. Sighing, Akemi placed the knife aside as she walked toward the doll-like human, “What are you doing here, little one? Is your head ok already?” Akemi questioned the smaller human in front of her, her hand reaching out to Maya’s temple.

Thankfully, Maya gave Akemi a nod and started writing on the board. “I’m fine, thank you. May I help you bake?” Maya wrote out and showed it to the vampire in front of her. “You wanted to help?” Akemi pondered carefully, turning her head back to the bowl of batter and cherries on the kitchen counter. “Well me and Yui-chan are almost done baking, you don’t mind helping us set the batter and the cherries into the tray, don’t you Maya-chan?” Akemi asked Maya, the doll nodded again and made her way to help the girls bake the pastries that were meant for her.

“I never thought you would cook, Akemi-san, this is delicious,” Yui exclaimed, finishing her slice of clafoutis. “It’s not much, I had to learn how to cook to fill my stomach, I wasn’t always living in a manor,” Akemi replied while she chewed, tasting the tart flavor of the cherries in her mouth. Maya put her fork down and started writing again, “I agree with Yui-san, thank you for the food.” Maya bowed, Akemi gave Maya a gentle smile, and patted the doll’s head, “Well, I’m glad you like it, both of you.” Maya looked up at Akemi and her eyes traced her gentle features, everything about the vampire just felt warm to her.

It felt nice.

Eventually, Maya found herself sitting in the kitchen watching Akemi talk to Yui while they pack away the leftover clafoutis. “I made extra just in case Kanato wants some. Honestly, he would throw a fit at me if he found out that we ate without him.” Akemi chuckled exasperatedly; the thought of the 4th Sakamaki brother paying more attention to her was enough to give her a migraine, never mind that he didn’t hate her as much as he wanted to kill her older sister. Despite that, Akemi found it amusing that Maya would react more at the mere mention of Kanato, even if she never saw what Maya saw in him.

The heart wants what it wants, never mind if the heart wants a man-child who promises to kill you with a spoon if his treats are not sweet enough.

“Akemi-san, do you think we can do something like this again?” Yui asked as she set the tableware aside to dry. Akemi turned around to look at Yui, she found it odd that the human remained positive despite being sent to the manor. If Akemi would recall, a normal bride would have been driven mad by despair within days and given up on finding a way out of the hell they have been placed in, it has always been that way for decades. Some were lucky to have swift deaths.

Now there’s a human that that man told his sons not to kill and another girl who isn’t even a bride. It was too strange to think about.

Nevertheless, Akemi looked at both of those humans and smiled, “Yeah, I’m sure we can bake again someday. Amaya and Asa would love to join you two.” Her response gave Yui a hopeful look in her eyes, Maya remained expressionless and nodded once more.

Despite all that, Akemi still remained doubtful that there will be a next time.

[mauannacreates]

Day 2 Flufftober: Family, Friends, Loved ones

Here's my second day that I did for the flufftober Made by @flufftober. Hope you guys enjoy. (And this is my first time trying to write in Marielle's perspective.)

---

I glance around the table standing in front of us. To have the wondrous Elaine sitting in the desk as she goes and fiddles with her fork. One where a smile trails across her face. And then with Tynan… The darkened knight whose brows twitches as he searches through the two of us.

It’s our first time sitting in the desk together like this. But then, we’re having a lot of firsts together as a power couple.

“Why are you so happy about this?” Elaine says, and I give a smile. 

“Because Lainy, you’re just so funny when you’re always just asking countless questions about me. “It’s like I’m an anomaly to you, lil’ sis.”

“Please do not call me your little sister.” 

“Oh, right. I forgot.” I laugh, “I’m the cool, awesome mom, while you’re the little big child who needs to be pampered in the cottage constantly.” 

“Marielle!” Elaine's hard and sharp voice says. But I keep on laughing.

“And Tynan’s the dad.” I point towards him, but he gives an unamused glance.

“Marielle.” He says, with his voice grumbles, “I am sure we talked about this.” 

“And we’ll keep on talking about it until the day we all die.” I say, as I give the greatest laugh ever… Too bad they don’t know humor. Even if both of their hearts twist against mine at the presumed sense of worse humor in the world. “Anyway, I shall have squid.” And I go and grasp the bucket that I had inside of me, and got a big headed animal with eyes dulled and tentacles flopped against the table. And their faces…! I have to laugh at how their faces twists and turns as if there’s something wrong with it…!

“Lainy, Ty, You guys have never eaten squid?” Their expressions makes it so obvious, and I turn towards Elaine. “I would think that they’d serve these sort of stuff to you, Lainy.”

“No…!” She slams the desk, but then her ears twitches, as her slit eyes glimpses towards me. But then, she sits back down on the seat. “Actually, they did serve me squid once; I hated it. So please, not under any circumstances insist that I’d have to try this slimy, barely cooked squid.” I stared at her. She’s as strict as a child without any sense of good culinaries.

“Ty! You must try it!” I say, bring it closer to him… And even he’s looking with his brows curved slightly… But it doesn’t seem of disdain.

“Is it like fish…? Like trout?”

“Ooh, it is even better!” I say, “Here, try this.” And I thrust the tentacle out until it gets pulled out. And I place it on the table as he stares at me. He goes and picks it up with his beak and starts eating it. And Lainy is just coughing and gurgling as she twists her head away. But he uses his claws to hold it as he keeps on eating it. “So, how does it taste?”

“I will admit, it is not the worst thing I tried.” He says. “But it could be better.” 

“Whaat!?” I say, “How?” And his beak twitches up. 

“Maybe with some pepper, a dash of lemon and… Parmesan.”

“Parmesan…?” Why have fish with dairy…? It tastes so much better by itself.

“You eat cheese!?” Elaine voice echos, that I nearly bounce off the table as she points towards him, and Tynan's head tilts to the side.

“Uhh, not typically.” The blue owl says, as his big wide eyes glances towards me. “I just heard that squid tentacles is great with parmesan. That is, if I’m not wrong.” And I give a nod… 

“Did you read it from a book?”

“Culinary of fine arts, seafood section, page fifty three.” Wow... That's very... Specific.

“So Ty… How often do you read books?” I say, leaning closer to him. “I mean, having to leave your own library for this? I doubt you’d have any time to read. while you're with us.” 

“Marielle, I read as often as I can. Whenever I can, wherever I can.” He says crunching his beak. “It doesn’t really matter where you’re at, as long as I'm reading something, it's is fine by me.” He eats another piece of the squid, as he glimpse towards me. “Besides, it is my dad’s, not mine.”

“But still, it’s so cool to have to meet a princess and a librarian in Aeromount Ridge… It’s so awesome…!” And with the soft smile trailing Tynan’s beak to Elaine rubbing the back of her neck… I have to admit. It’s so nice here…!  

If you guys are interested in looking into some of the other prompts that I have done from the previous months, check it out here:

[rowanoke]

TW for transphobia and discussion of genocide

I was scrolling along through my dash earlier, as per usual, and I saw a post with a map of what states are the most and least safe for trans folk in the US to live. A little bit later, I saw another post about how aggressive the anti-trans sentiment is becoming on the far- and alt-right. It made me ask myself, are they moving toward a potentially genocidal ideology? And if so, how far down that path are they?

So I started looking for answers. So far, the best model I could find for the steps leading up to genocide would be Gregory Stanton's "Ten Stages of Genocide." First presented in 1996 as the Eight stages following analyses of the conditions leading up to the Rwandan genocide, the Holocaust, Khmer Rouge Cambodia and more, he eventually added 2 additional stages in 2012. It should be noted that the following stages are not linear, and usually several will occur simultaneously.

Classification: "People are divided into 'them and us.'" - Clearly this is something that has long since passed, with trans people being categorized and othered for decades.

Symbolization: "When combined with hatred, symbols may be forced upon unwilling members of pariah groups" - while no symbols immediately come to mind specifically targeting trans folk, there are several hate groups whose symbols are used to intimidate and threaten us (i.e. nazis, proud boys, super straights)

Discrimination: "Law or cultural power excludes groups from full civil rights: segregation or apartheid laws, denial of voting rights." - This is happening as I write this. Of course, there have been cultural powers excluding trans folk for a long time, but as the culture has gradually shifted in our favor, the right has taken it upon themselves to codify their hate into law. Across the nation there are various 'don't say gay' bills, as well as proposed bills requiring genital checks for children to play sports in order to segregate trans people from the gender they identify with and erase our presence.

Dehumanization: "One group denies the humanity of the other group. Members are equated with animals, vermin, insects, or diseases." - trans folk are portrayed by the rights as pedophiles and predators, vilifying and demonizing us.

Organization: "Genocide is always organized... Special army units or militias are often trained and armed..." - referencing back to the symbolization, the proud boys are an alt-right militia group expressly supporting Donald Trump and other alt-right politicians. Many of whom are pushing anti-trans agendas.

Polarization: "Hate groups broadcast polarizing propaganda..." - Fox News, Qanon, 4chan, and many insular groups share propaganda and misinformation among themselves and their circles.

Preparation: "Mass killing is planned. Victims are identified and separated out because of their ethnic or religious identity..." - This is where we are now. Thanks to maia crimew it's now out in the open that the right is conspiring to rid the country of trans people. Thousands of pages of their emails discussing their plans to erase us. To be extra clear, the right was already at this stage, it just became known to the rest of us recently.

Persecution: "Expropriation, forced displacement, ghettos, concentration camps." - This is the first step that's not happening around us. I cannot overstate my concern at this.

Extermination: "It is 'extermination' to the killers because they do not believe their victims to be human."

Denial: "The perpetrators... deny that they committed any crimes..."

So there you have it. According to my analysis of the current political climate in the US through the lens of Stanton's Ten Stages of Genocide, we are only two steps away from the extermination of Trans folk. Do with that what you will. If you disagree and think we're at a different stage, please let me know, I could really use some hope right now.