#i wish i could write a coherent sentence or two

[ehlnofaey]

too many ocs, too little brainpower

[writer-logbook]

5 tips for proofreading & their pros and cons

Define your objectives for each chapter. In my case, some of my chapters are better written than others. My objectives for them will differ. Before starting my proofreading, I list my needs and areas of improvements, and I write them down somewhere so I have them in front of me rather than in my head alone.

Pros : allows you to know which points you need to focus on ; provides a guideline adapted to your needs.

Cons : risk of losing homogeneity and fluidity + flaws may be shifted to other chapters that didn't have them before due to a sudden imbalance.

Plan several proofreading sessions, each one of them addressing ONE NEED AT A TIME. (E.g., one for grammar, another for style, and a final one for coherence. ) And I insist on the "one need at a time" part. Even for those who can multitask (unlike me), I really don't recommend settling for a single proofreading session. It could interfere with your concentration and let you skip some flaws. And please, always give your chapter a final read after your edits to ensure that the elements make sense as a whole, and are not repeated every two paragraphs (I plead guilty, your honor)

Pros: allows you to focus precisely on each point, and give it dedicated attention.

Cons: you can quickly get confused and risk multiple re-readings + significant time investment.

I make my corrections on a separate file. Whatever you do, it's always better to have a backup and therefore to save your files (don't blindly trust autosave) to create archives. I think it's a two-ways process : 1) you open two files simultaneously, one with your V1 and one, blank, where you'll rewrite your chapter as you make changes. Eventually, this new doc will become your V2 ; 2) you copy the parts to proofread into a new document and edit directly in there.

Pros: allows you to rewrite as you wish without being discouraged by the following paragraphs - especially in case of the first way.

Cons: requires multiple files (maybe multiple screens to be at ease) and better organization.

Change the typography. I don't know about you, but after a while, I'm struck by semantic satiation (click on the link - it's Wikipedia -, it's very interesting) and nothing makes sense anymore. After the 52,846th proofreading, I might as well read in another language. I've found a relatively effective trick - not as effective as a complete break, but sometimes you need to move forward - which consists of changing the typography. I can't remember who gave me this advice though, but be sure they've been thanked more than enough in my mind. In any case, seeing words change their shape significantly helps my brain to stay focused and attentive. (Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks on me but I only see the results.)

Pros: it's simple to implement.

Cons: I don't know if this trick works for everyone or if I'm the only weirdo (you can tell me in the comment section).

Take notes. This is a very personal tip but I keep a proofreading logbook. Like, I record in a few sentences the first time an element is mentioned, how it's describes, and most importantly… I MENTION THE DATES. The story I'm currently writing is heavily governed by a chronological system, so I have an absolute need to keep the day count up to date.

Pros: helps avoid inconsistencies and oversights.

Cons: very tedious to maintain and creates (a lot) of extra work.

I've started my prooreading journey yesterday and I already want to die. If I find in the edits something that is worth making a post, be sure that I will. Or let me know if you're simply curious.

Gentle reminder : Best is the worst enemy of good so, at some point, you'll have to let it go and let your chapter live its life to its fullest. Don't be hard on yourself and be proud of your work - or know that I am.

[livelaughlovesubs]

hellooo, i love your writing but im not used to sending asks so forgive me if anything is said poorly or if i do it wrong somehow, but i was curious if your up for writing obey me characters still?

if you are, could i request just ravaging asmo, like to the point where hes crying and not forming coherent sentences, and then just completely switching up after and giving super sweet aftercare? this is sort of inspired by the dazai aftercare post except i want the smut lmao

feel free to refuse or completely ignore this request if you dont feel up to it!

also could i be 🫶 anon? i looked through your anon list and im pretty sure that ones not taken!

remember to take care of yourself and take your time! i hope you're doing well! :)

-🫶

Hello hello~ don’t worry, you are doing great :] Also this will be my first time writing for obey me, bear with me alright? (I only got to chapter/ lesson 22 when I used to play it)

Dom!reader x sub!Asmodeus - reader is gender neutral

Warning: pegging (I use dick), hair pulling, marks, mind break, overstimulation, multiple rounds, a little exhibition?

Creaking sounds lingered around your ears, alongside the breathy moans of the male underneath you. These heavenly noises bounced off the walls, loud enough to seep through the cracks of the door. You were almost worried that other people would hear him, it would be pretty embarrassing at breakfast tomorrow. Though, asmo certainly wouldn’t mind, he’d even brag and show off his hickeys to everyone. How did you know? Because if he had any ounce of shame, he wouldn’t be screaming his lungs out like this. No one can tell you this little slut here doesn’t want his brothers to know he was getting used like a fleshlight.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes for a moment and slowing down, gathering some energy. What time was it, how long have you two been going at it? The stamina of a demon really was scary, to think he was still able to stay awake after was felt like an eternity. He was exhausted too, but he still wanted to keep going. “Haha..” you chuckled as you gazed at his messy face, smiling in amusement at the lewd display in front of you. Asmo was such a charming man, his hair had an indescribable colour that was unique to none other than him. Truly a marvellous gift from god himself. And now, it was sticking to his forehead, all wet due to the layer of sweat covering his skin.

His angelic face was fated to be his weapon for temptation, such a beauty was truly irresistible, befitting of his title as the avatar of lust. Those gorgeous golden eyes were shining like stars, lightening up each time you trusted deep inside him. You almost felt guilty, for defiling that innocent appearance of his. The saying of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ was like tailored for him, for this devil with the most saint-like appearance you’ve ever came across. Everything he did was erotic and inviting, causing you to want to ruin him more. Until any traces of that natural pureness he had were wiped away by lust.

“AaahhGg~..! Oh, y/n, right thereeee mhHmm!!” Asmodeus moaned out your name, his voice sweet and coated with honey. His back was facing you, and he arched his body into a crescent shape. Hips and ass high in the air, while his face was being pushed into the very pillow he was hugging. One of your hands were tangled in his rose-tainted hair, switching up from stroking his locks to yanking on them whenever you saw fit. Each time you’d rough him up, he’d whimper shamelessly, grinning from ear to ear as he shakes his butt for you.

He was so beautiful right now. So very stunning. That once cheeky face now all decorated with tears and drool, all blushy like a maiden fresh in love. His eyes rolled back sometimes, as well as him sticking his tongue out and trembling in pleasure. Despite the impaling realisation that he would pass out if this continued any longer, he didn’t yield, only begging you to give him more. Who were you to deny your darlings wishes? You wanted to give him everything he wanted, even if it will cause him back pain for the days to come.

The other hand was on his hips, helping him holding his body up to meet your trusts. Your pace was a steady one, but pretty slow. That’s because your body was sore as well from pounding him for hours. Asmo didn’t mind it, because you were still so good at it, even if you were tired. Every time you drove your length inside him, it hit his abused and used prostate with such accuracy that he can’t help but cry out in bliss. “AhhNnGg! Harder~ ooOOhhH!!” His hole was all red and swollen, it was so puffy, yet he was still able to clench around you. You could feel his insides squeezing your dick, not letting you pull it out of him.

“Such a dirty boy, how did you survive so long without me?” You teased, pulling on his hair suddenly, ending with him throwing his head back with a yelp. “AhH! i- heh, I guess I wasn’t re-really living mHmm~ before meeting you then.” The demon answered, still capable of smiling at you, even if the said smile looked like the dumb grin of a cheap prostitute. “My my, your choice of words are still as romantic as ever. Can you handle another round, asmo?” His dick twitched at your words, leaking some more precum onto the puddle of semen beneath him. “HnGg, of co-course..! Ahh~ y/n, fuck me <3”

A smirk spread on your lips, and you let go of his light brown hair. Instead, you used both hands to hold his waist tightly, enough for it to bruise. “Then I won’t hold myself back.” You said, as a kind of warning. Asmo looked over his shoulder and your eyes met, the desire in his pupils were evident on his body as well as in your eyes. Another giggle slipped from your lips before you moved backwards, then snapping your hips against his in a fast pace. “AhGGhhH! Mo-moRRe!!” While the devil groaned out a series of encouragements for you to continue rutting into him like some beast, he could feel another orgasm approaching. His stomach curled so intensely, and electricity was coursing through his body.

The expression on his face was so dumb, so fucked out of it that he looked like he lost his mind. As if he succumbed to pleasure, him, the very fundament of lust. “Ah.. damn it, you are such a pretty boy asmo.. heh.” You complimented him among all these ruthless thrusts, it was a gentleness he didn’t know he needed to spill over the edge. “NgHHh! Uh-uhMm, I’m cu-cummINNgG <3!!” More tears rolled down his messy cheeks as his orgasm washed over him, this time he didn’t look as sane as before. No, he looked like he was drunk on the ecstasy and pleasure. It was so good, so so so good he couldn’t fathom it! It crashed down on him and his poor, slim body in waves, it was more than what he could handle!

Hearts were sparkling in his pupils, and his hands clutched the pillow so hard that it ripped. He even accidentally switched to his demon form, so his horns, wings and tail popped out. At this point he couldn’t think nor speak properly anymore, only repeating the same phrases like a broken radio. Whines and gasps of pleasure continued to fill the room of the boy, and his tongue was hanging out of his mouth like some dog in heat. Ropes of cum spurt out of his dick, dirtying the sheets below him. His thighs quivered, some of his slick also ran down his inner thighs. After helping him ride out his high, you slowly and gently pulled the cock out of him. Then, you also released his hips.

Two imprints of your hands were left behind, and you couldn’t hide a sadistic smirk. To your surprise asmo whispered to you in a meek voice, “keep.. mhm, holding me..” He was just a twitchy something now, limping on his bed while his brain was still processing all the sensations. It was simply too much, he was going to take a while until he’ll be responsive again. Even so he still craved your touch, he did have an adorable side to him didn’t he?

“I’ll, if that’s what you want.” You replied and grabbed his tiny waist again, this time you leaned down and pressed your body against his. After waiting and taking a break for a new minutes, you kissed his neck softly, before mumbling quietly, “wanna go wash up now, love?” Not once have you left his side while waiting patiently, giving him some time to reorganise. “Hmmm… can’t we stay like t-this a tad longer?” Asmo pouted and sighed, already feeling sore and the aftermath of the long session. God, he was still stumbling over his words! Just how hard did you fuck him? He will definitely walk funnily tomorrow, if he can even stand on his own two legs. “We can still cuddle after taking a shower. Come on, you go first while I clean up.” You suggested, knowing that he was totally out of energy.

“Nuuu! I want to stay like this! Pleaseeee? Pretty please??” He blinked at you, looking at you with puppy eyes, knowing that this trick always works on you. “Ugh! Fine, fine, if that’s what my princess here wants.” You sighed, acting annoyed at him doing as he pleased. “Hehe~” the devil laughed satisfied, resting his chin on the pillow as he enjoyed your touch. Next thing he knew you kissed his cheeks, while tugging his still chaotic hair behind his ear. While you did those things, you said with a little smile, “You did well asmo, I’m so proud of you.”

Huh. Where did that come from? Out of nowhere his face heated up again, and that right after you thought he had calmed down. “Aww, you are so cute y/n!” He responded immediately, though a hint of nervousness was laced and hidden behind his voice. Was the avatar of lust perhaps flustered or embarrassed about your words? Pff. You laughed in his face, before giving his forehead a peck. “Ahh~ I love you, my prince.”

[os81rpiastri]

Holding hands - KR7

[ 645 words ]

[ master list ]

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪�� Warnings; smut, slight size kink, hand kink, choking, fingering, praise kink, and poorly google translated Finnish (lol)

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Pairing; soft domKimi x innocent subreader (female)

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Summary; Kimi had noticed the reader sneaking glances of his hands while bored, so he decides to surprise her.

౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ Authors note; first post, also first time writing smut so I’m sorry if it sucks 😭.

You bounce you’re leg, letting out a sigh. Your bored, you’ve been since about an hour ago. You and Kimi were watching some show he had picked out in the living room, which you had no interest in. Glancing at Kimi, your gaze immediately falling to his hands.

They were already so attractive, so big and vainy. You loved how big he was compared to your short frame, especially his hands, he could throw you around if he wanted, which truthfully you wish for nothing more in that moment. You snap back to reality when you realize he had just caught you staring, you turn your face away quickly, a heavy blush covering your cheeks. You can hear him let out a soft laugh.

“Rakkuas, what is bothering you” love he ask’s in a low voice. Resting his hand on your thigh gently, waiting for your response. You let out a small sigh as he placed his hand on your thigh.

“Nothing” gently squeezing your thighs together, trying to play it off. Keeping your gaze locked on the tv straight ahead. He leans closer to your ear, you feel his soft breath against your neck.

“Vauva don’t lie, I can see you squeezing your thighs together” baby he softly yet slowly drags his hand up your thigh. You watch his hand trail higher, towards the heat between your legs. You suck in a quiet breath. He smirks playfully, kissing from your jaw down your neck softly. His hand finally reaching your core, he rubs gentle, slow circles on your clothed clit.

“Kimi” you mumble closing your eyes quickly, wrapping your hand around his wrist.

“Want me to stop” he whispers against your neck, applying more pressure, rubbing your clit a bit harsher. You nod your head no vigorously, eyes shut tightly in pleasure, moans spilling from your lips.

“Words, Vauva” baby he mumbles into your neck, he picks up his pace as he waits for your response. His free hand sliding down to your hip, gently moving you to sit in his lap.

“Don’t stop” your head falls back in pleasure. Gripping his bicep tightly, bucking your hips into his hand. He pushes your underwear to the side, slowly slipping a finger into your cunt. You let out a loud moan, as he works your clit with his thumb. He pumps his finger in and out at a slow pace, curving his fingers to hit your sweet spot.

“teet niin hyvää minulle” your doing so good for me he slowly slips in a second finger. Picking up his pace, pumping his fingers faster. Still working your clit harshly with his thumb.

“Kimi I-I’m gonna-“ he speeds his fingers up. Moving his hand to your throat, squeezing it gently so you can still breathe. At this point your so close you can’t even put together a coherent sentence. The only thing slipping past your lips was moans and his name.

“Go ahead cum, cum all over my fingers Rakkuas” love he pulls you closer by the throat, kissing you passionately. It was sloppy but that and his words sent you right over the edge. You let out a loud porngraphic moan, your orgasm washes over you hard. You fall onto his chest as your body shakes.

“Still bored” he chuckles while looking down at you. He slowly slips his fingers out of your cunt, you let out soft moan. He moves his fingers up to your lips.

“imeä” suck he mumbles softly, you take his fingers in your mouth and suck gently. You moan at the taste of yourself on his fingers. He pulls his fingers out of your mouth with a small pop.

“Tired” Kimi asks quietly, wrapping his arms around you. You nod your head gently against his chest.

“Round two after my nap” you mumble into his chest. He looks down at you grinning.

“Sounds Perfect”

[groenendaelfic]

Hey,

haven't seen you around a lot lately. Just writing to check in. how is it going? Wish you a nice evening

it is going, thank you for asking!

Life has been very busy these past few months but is moving in a hopefully good and definitely exciting direction.

In this particular order (if memory serves correctly) I've:

decided to move halfway across the continent

marked the one year anniversary of the worst time of my life

had other people mark the one year anniversary of the worst time of my life with all that entails

quit my job (I'd been planning that for a while)

had my boss and hr offer to let me go instead and half my notice period to two months (aka 'give' me more money and facilitate my move, yay pity)

started looking for a place to live and organizing my move

found a new job in a slightly different corner of halfway across the continent (I start July 1st)

got my request for citizenship approved (epic timing guys)

found a place to live in an awesome area (I will be able to do all my errands on foot and my new job is only a short bike ride away)

told everyone I was leaving for sure

signed the paperwork to have my uncle in law take over the place here

had my cousin offer to move my stuff with his remodeled fire engine in exchange for gas and (bridge) tolls

did all the paperwork in the universe ever

started saying my goodbyes for now (I still have lots of family and friends etc here so I'll be back a lot)

had my cousin tell me he'd make a bro trip out of the move because his friends really wanted to see a basic bridge, and room and board plus no girls was all the compensation they needed for getting to carry my boxes

said thanks but no thanks to citizenship (sorry Wille, you'll always be my King)

was asked if I minded the move taking a bit longer because the guys wanted to stop for totally unplanned soccer (a not insignificant part of their motivation if not a deciding factor I dare say)

did more move and job leaving planning and paperwork

welcomed, fed and watered a bunch of guys really into soccer bridges and very disappointed I didn't have more boxes they could compete carrying

prepared a big lunch basket and said goodbye to said guys and my boxes

sat down to write this list wondering where I should celebrate midsummer (aka do I want to travel back and forth to get everything ready or stay until it's time to hand in my work laptop etc)

Phew, yes. Also a million other things which won't come to mind right now. Thank you to everyone who left me such kind messages btw. I appreciate them so much but am still learning to respond to kindness and compliments without awkwardness. They nevertheless give me life.

In more interesting news to everyone here I've also done a lot of writing.

Mostly on One Wild Summer, which has already grown into a monster, but I've been writing the exciting parts later on and still guesstimate a 15k or so stretch which needs bridging to get to all the fun stuff I've already written.

but also on The Prince and the Barista and As Long as We Have Each Other. I only need to make it coherent and once again fill the gap to where I stopped posting.

plus *cue exasperated sighs* I'm also 9k+ into a new fic! The (once more) absolutely most self-indulgent thing I've ever written in this fandom and something I swore I never would turn into a proper fic. Expect the prologue for that (which was meant to be 500 words and not 5k) soonish.

Everything else including regular updates not before mid to late July though I think. Because moving and starting a new job and life means busy times and while I can write scribble down connected sentences with half a mind, I can't beta read and edit with half a mind.

tl;dr: I am still writing yr fic and haven't abandoned my fics, but am also busy moving. goodbye cloudberries and lingonberries, hello wineberries vineyards and appleberries apple orchards.

[naomis-daydream]

touchin’, lovin’, fuckin’ // shuri udaku

warnings: kissing, fingering (shuri receiving), kinda bottom!shuri, exhibitionism

a/n: yesterday was my two week anniversary on tumblr (writing wise bc i’ve been here for months lolz) so here’s a lil treat! my first time writing smut so pls be nice.

translations: bhabha - baby, sthandwa sami - my love, nkosazana- princess.

p.s i didn’t write this, i have class.

✧

“Come on, let me touch you.” you whispered, lips ghosting over the lobe of her ear.

Shuri wished she could respond, say something, anything, but right now, all she could focus on was the feeling of your cool fingertips dancing across her lower stomach.

“Don’t you wanna feel good?” your lips muttered against hers as her mouth opened to let out a low groan. “I can make you feel so good.”

As if your words weren’t enough, you slipped your hand below her waistband, cupping her clothed cunt in your palm. Shuri threw her head back, biting back a whimper. You took this as an invitation to leave a trail of kisses up her neck, stopping just below her ear to suck gently on her soft skin.

Just as you begin to trace small circles on her clit does she finally give you a coherent sentence.

“W-We can’t,” she says breathlessly, “Someone could come in.”

Though her actions contradict her words. Her arms are wrapped around your waist, hands dropping down to squeeze your ass when you dip your hand into her underwear.

Truth be told, she was right—anyone could walk in. You had her leaned against a relatively empty lab table that was in the direct eye-line of the entrance. If anyone happened to walk in, which could be any moment since her Design Group usually returned for lunch at 1pm, they’d see the incredibly lewd sight of the princess on the verge of being finger-fucked by her girlfriend.

And quite frankly Shuri was already seen as a who child who “scoffs at tradition”, so maybe adding exhibitionist to the list wasn’t the brightest idea. Though she couldn’t care less about that when you finally pushed a finger inside her.

“You’re so wet, bhabha.” You cooed as she moaned softly, trying to conceal her pleasure, lest someone overhear.

You would have none of that.

You moved your hand from behind her on the table to grip lightly on her neck, pulling her head up to look you in the eye. “Mm-mm, nkosazana, I wanna hear you.” You whispered, pumping your finger in and out at a slow pace.

She held your gaze with those beautiful, brown eyes. Her lips were shut in an awfully cute pout. You could tell she wanted to make her pleasure audible, yet still hesitant to oblige. That was fine though, you had other ways of gaining her obedience.

You leaned over to kiss her, lips connecting just as she let out a blissful moan. You swallowed the noise, pushing your tongue in her mouth. Shuri sighed at the contact, beginning to grind into your hand.

You pulled back, a string of spit connecting you two as she chases your lips. Looking at her with low lidded eyes, you slid another finger into her, watching her brows furrow as her jaw dropped in a silent scream, eyes closing.

Shuri could feel you everywhere. Your warmbreath on her face, your hand applying pressure lightly on her neck, and your nimble fingers stroking upward to that spongy spot that made her entire body vibrate in ecstasy.

You slowly increased your pace, tightening your grip to pull her back to you. “Eyes on me.” For her sake, she obeyed, meeting your gaze with a slightly quivering lower lip.

You curled your fingers inside her, reaching for that perfect spot that’d make her-

“Y/n!”

You smirked.

“Bast, please, Y/n. Don’t stop.” She swallows thickly as another moan escapes her. The lab was flooded with the sound of your fingers entering and exiting her at an ungodly place, the wet sound of your knuckles meeting her pussy brought tears to her eyes.

You smiled softly. “Aw, poor baby. Does it feel that good?”

Shuri nods quickly, incapable of forming words that’d do you justice.

“Who makes you feel this good?”

“You do,” she utters, hands moving to grip the edge of the table with crushing force.

“Who else takes care of you like I do?” You ask, letting go of her neck to wipe the single tear that slid down her cheek.

“No one else but you. Only you, sthandwa sami.” she cries.

You can tell she’s close, her hips are practically buckling against you as you bring your thumb to rub her clit once more.

Your hand cups the side of her face, kissing the spot where her tear once resided. “Come for me.”

Shuri buried her face in your neck, muffling the obscene noises you so desperately enjoyed. She wraps her arms around your waist tightly, pulling you closer as she rides her orgasm out, hips rolling against your hand still pumping slowly inside her.

“Ndiyakuthandana,” she says into your skin. I love you.

Her post-coital words of affection make you chuckle as you slowly pull out of her. “I love you more.”

She pulls her head out of the crook of your neck, arms still around your waist. “Akunakwenzeka.” It is impossible.

You hum softly, admiring her supple skin. A hazy, fucked-out smile was strayed across her face, eyes glazed with fulfillment. The two of you stay like that, looking blissfully at each other, for a few more seconds before the chatter of the lab assistants nearby breaks you from your reverie.

Shuri quickly removes her hands from around you, looking down to button and zip her jeans. You laugh at her movements as the doors opened.

Shuri glares at you as she smooths her shirt out, saying a quick greeting to the others as your back still faced them. As they reply, you place your fingers in your mouth, tongue swirling around the two digits. You pull them out slowly with a small pop! smiling at the way Shuri’s mouth parts.

“Fuck you,” she says low enough so only you can hear her.

Walking backwards, you wink at her with a smile. “Maybe later.”

[future--ghost]

I started thinking about Sammy Lawrence again. He genuinely means so much to me because he's such missed potential. The creators of Bendy proved that they COULD write good characters, but just don't. If time constraints are an issue, maybe you should deviate from your formula? Susie/Malice is a good character. She has development throughout the chapters, even if we don't explicitly see her much. Her actions resonate through the studio, not to mention that we can get her audio recordings from the past, each one showing her going from an excited, up-and-coming Alice to an angry, betrayed, bitter woman, who's about to become a victim to Joey. I WISH they'd explore Sammy more as a character. He could genuinely be so interesting. A talented musician who won an award, alongside his old friend and musical partner, Jack. Jack, who was a singer, and the sweeter of the two. Jack who can no longer form coherent sentences, nor can he sing any longer. Sammy, who has a more stable body than the rest of the lost ones, but who has lost himself to madness. One of the first overtaken by the ink. One of the first to be pulled into the depths of insanity by Joey's creations.

He could he so tragic. Sammy's belief in the Ink Demon "saving him from the inky abyss he calls a body" has always been considered dumb. How had he come to that opinion? That's something I'd see every once and a while after the release of chapter 2 of BATIM. After BATDR, I remember seeing a character analysis of Sammy's belief in the Ink Demon and how in BATDR, we saw a more manipulative and egotistical Ink Demon. It could be possible that the Ink Demon took advantage of Sammy's desire for his old body back to return to his former self. It'd be easy, wouldn't it? A sleep deprived musician who's been one of the first victims of the Ink. Spiraling downwards, even writing one last song, before the breakdown that marked the end to his former life. (Lighter Side of Hell was the last song Sammy composed before he broke down and was consumed by the Ink, I think.) I can't find the post, but I really did love that one, because ever since I've thought about him more.

Something I've thought about his character that has definitely sprouted from BATDR is Sammy's ability to compose in the form we see in the game. His body is made of Ink. INK. Ink doesn't hold a stable form. No matter what you do, it won't. It's not like skin. Skin will at least be soft enough to touch things, but inky will ripple at the touch of a string. Why might I mention strings? Sammy's favorite instrument is the Banjo, as he said in the Sammy Lawrence Hot Topic Twitter Takeover in 2017. Banjo is a string instrument, but an ink body wouldn't be able to use a string instrument. Sammy Lawrence physically cannot compose without damaging the ink body. The string would most likely cut through the ink. Not to mention all the other string instruments in the Music Department. He can still use other instruments, like percussion, right? It depends. The frequency might cause ripples in the ink. It depends on how it works. Personally, I'd like to think Sammy has a far more stable body, as his anatomy is not as see-through as the other lost ones. Sammy has a "skin" of sorts. The lost ones are just kind of bones, with ink dripping down. So Sammy may actually have a body under the ink, who knows! But my main point is that both Sammy and Jack are incapable of doing what their jobs and livelihoods were. Sammy can't compose his new body, which hinders the ability greatly. Jack can't sing. He was the more vocal of the two.

That's just a small bit of what they could think of. Idk that's just kinda been what I think about when it comes to Sammy.

[hopepaigeturner]

Hope's Review of S3 : Kanthony & Francesca

Note: These are my opinions, that does not make them right, nor am I posturing that they are the only opinion. Very up for discussion with y’all as long as it’s respectful.

Note: I do not stand for hate against any actors/actresses or writers. Please, please, do not send hate to them.

As I said in my past posts:

I loved moments, far more than the writing.

Kanthony:

And this couple is the personification of the above sentence.

I adored every single scene with Kanthony. Anthony my-wife Bridgerton stole my heart. The kiss during the dance. Announcing the baby. Competitive couple goals. My heart melted with how they looked at each other, how intimate they were with one another. Whenever they came on my screen I squealed.

However…I really didn’t rate their arc this season. Do we remember the interview where Simone talked about how this season we were going to get Kate settling into her role as Viscountess? Where did that go?

They bopped in and out without much coherency. I feel as if the writers wanted them for that one scene with Colin re: marital advice in the middle of the season but didn’t have a clear idea for what other scenes they could do. And I do think it was more than just Johnny and Simone’s schedules.

Yes, it was nice for them to take a little extended honeymoon for themselves to have a child when last season was so full of tension and sacrifice. And it is heart swooning that Anthony wants to have the baby in India—but two different excuses to get them off screen? Why not just the one? The key with Kanthony is that they both know they cannot fully shirk their responsibilities—nor if they’re being honest would the pair wish to—but their love story was about finding someone else to share the burdens with. Having them pop off to leave Benedict with it all not once, but twice, seems a bit of a disservice to their characters.

Francesca & John:

I LOVED John and Francesca’s storyline. I loved their courtship; I liked their chemistry and their interactions. The song he got rewritten for her? Swoon.

I liked that Francesca taught Violet some lessons in love, I thought this was one of the more interesting and meatier storylines. I like that Bridgerton is showing us how valid different types of romances are.

I liked that both had to go out of their comfort zones for their love, they needed to be bold. John in asking Francesca to dance at the wedding breakfast, and Francesca standing up to the Queen.

However…the ending got things a bit muddled, especially in the last episode. Francesca and other characters kept pushing the idea that her marriage was her ‘getting it over and done with’, or that her marriage was a way to “escape the family” or have time to find herself. Combined with her reaction at the wedding, it made me doubt Francesca’s intentions with the romance. Was it really because she loved him?

A mina contribution around this is that I still don’t know who Francesca is. Unlike other characters, Francesca has not been built up for the last two seasons, tf it was so important that from the get-go we got a clear idea of Francesca’s motivations, her views, her personality. And we got some of it, but I felt like it got a bit muddled because they immediately got her together with John. I would have loved this season to be a season of us finding out who Francesca is before she is linked with another person.

However, I'm not really peeved or worried about all of this. Whether Francesca is a lesbian, or whether her marriage with John is one that does not have much sexual desire—does not negate her deep love for him. It's just in the next season/s the writers need to show the deep love. I would also find it refreshing to have a couple that deeply love each other without the need for sex. Especially in our very sex-driven culture.

On the topic of Francesca and John…

Franchaela

I was gobsmacked when I saw Michaela come in. I literally paused the show and had to take a moment. Afterwards, (while it did take me a minute to put aside my love for Michael Stirling and sigh a little mournfully for some of the storylines we won’t see), my brain then did a 180 and has now gone down a rabbit hole around this new dynamic/story. I just hope that the writers can do it justice.

Also, I think I saw a comment in an interview about how its really cool they’re going to show a ‘happy queer love story’ on Bridgerton. And all I was thinking is how When He Was Wicked is the most angstiest book in the entire season--but at least we’ll still get a HEA.

Also, I know a lot of people are annoyed about Francesca’s reaction to Michaela, and I think that can be taken multiple ways. I saw a post (apologies I can’t find it otherwise I would credit you) that pointed out that for non-book readers, they would have no idea the purpose/significance of Michaela without some obvious moment like we saw. They might have just assumed she would be a friend for Eloise. Personally, at the first watching I was a little disappointed because it piled on top of other moments in the episode that seemed to undermine Francesca and John’s relationship. But again, it will be very easy for the writers to show the love between John and Francesca in future season so I’m not too worried about this.

But do you know what we do get now…

We get the BPSC=, otherwise known as the Bridgerton Pining Society. Est. 1817.

President: Sophie Beckett.

Vic President: Michaela Stirling.

Honorary member: Benedict Bridgerton

I mean, did you see how fast Michaela's smile dropped upon learning that Francesca is a Kilmartin?

[orchidyoonkook]

I wish you would write a fic where: UTWT Yoongi and Reader were cuddling while it was raining outside. 🥰

(This is just for that post you shared - although I would be over the moon if you did do this. But you do whatever your heart desires!!)

You're the best and I hope you have a lovely week. 💕

Rainfall Brings Tomorrow | MYG

Pairing: UTWT Badboy! Min Yoongi x (F)!Reader

Genre // Rating: (T) | fluff, touch of angst, some self reflection

Summary: You leave tomorrow, and there's one thing you need to say goodbye too.

Warnings: none! I think. Reader just thinks a lot.

Word Count: 923

Release Date: October 19, 2023, 3:00PM

A/N: Well I wrote this from 2am to 6:14am. I didn't even see this ask until about 1:30am and then I couldn't stop thinking about it. So I hope it lives up to your expectations, dearest Anon.

A/N 1.5: This was written in 3 hours and then only edited twice. I think it's coherent but if there are mistakes, please forgive.

The soft patter of rainfall falls around you, filling your ears with earthsong. His soft breaths flow in a steady rhythm to its beat, and the patio umbrella you shoved into the ground is doing its job well, keeping your resting forms dry from the delicate cadence of an afternoon shower. 

Your pond vibrates in its own little symphony of ripples, ducks hidden away in their nests while it plays. The boughs and branches of your home away from home rustle in its light wind, their tune mixing in beautifully with the rest. 

It’s cold and overcast out, but his body keeps you warm, as yours keeps his. He sits in your usual spot, back against the years worn wooden truck, while you sit against his chest, both covered by his leather jacket, preserving the heat you two were just beginning to learn to share with one another. 

It’s the day before you leave.

The day before you say ‘fuck you and goodnight’ to everyone and everything in your town, hop on the back of a motorcycle and never look back. 

But you needed to have one last visit to the place that brought you and Yoongi together for the first time, plus all the times after. And you wanted him here with you when you did. 

To say goodbye. To the one thing you would miss more than anything else.

Your willow tree. 

Yoongi’s arms circle your waist as you lean your head back against his shoulder. His touch still sends sparks anywhere it lands on your skin, and you hope that it never goes away. Hope it never dulls or fades. Because you’re learning way too fast that it’s becoming one of your favourite things, and you don’t even want to think of what you’d do if you lost it. 

A gentle kiss at your exposed neck, under your ear, lets you know he’s finished the page. But you still have a couple sentences to go as you hold The Mysterious Island open with a hand through the jacket sleeve for both of you to read.

You found it suiting, to truly bring this chapter in your lives a full three hundred and sixty degrees before closing it forever. And that’s what you need more than anything, you think. 

Closure. 

Because as much as you hate it here, and as much as you can’t wait to go, it’s all you’ve ever known. And while this change is good and needed and necessary, it’s also incredibly scary. 

You hate that a very small part of you doesn’t want to go, for the sake of familiarity. It’s safe here. You know what to expect. You know what will happen, when it will happen, what to do, where to go, who you’ll become. There’s a guideline written into your future by your past here. One you’ve never wanted to follow and always wanted to change.

But there are the absolutely terrifying ‘what if’s’ that comes with big change. What if you leave and it’s no better than where you were? What if you somehow mess all of it up? What if nothing goes to plan, everything goes to shit, and you’re forced to come back?

That’s your biggest nightmare, and it could very easily become your reality. 

But it’s not enough to change your mind. 

You’re going. Tomorrow morning, you’re leaving, come hell or high water or…maybe rain water if this keeps up. And you’re taking the man currently drawing you closer into him with you. 

He takes a quiet inhale of your hair, happily drowning in your scent. Yoongi’s still settling into the fact that the woman he’s holding is his. At least for now. The one that always caught his eye. The one that he never knew he could want so badly. The one who reads with him on a rainy afternoon in their shared space so she can say goodbye to the only thing that was kind to her, with him here to support her.

He’ll support you however you need, forever if he can.

His girl.

Pulling your legs up to rest the book on, you flip the page though your focus wavers, and you stare out into the shower blurred haze of your favourite place. 

This is the last time you’ll ever be here, so you take in every detail you can. The way the grass feels underneath you, the shape of the pond and the colour of its water. You commit the height of the tree and the ebb and flow of its leaves to memory as best you can. You take in the feeling of Yoongi behind you, remembering how he used to sit a foot away from you.

How every day, whether you realized it or not, he got just a little bit closer.

And before you can stop it, a silent tear slides down your face. You wipe it away but Yoongi catches it, and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“You okay?” he asks. 

You are.

It’s just finally hitting you that your years of pain and loneliness and misery are ending. You’re finally taking control of your life like you’ve always planned, and better yet, you aren’t doing it alone. You have someone now. 

You can’t remember the last time you had that. 

“Yeah,” you say, lifting your chin to look at him. “I think I’m going to be just fine.”

Holding the book back up, you see you’ve reached the final chapter. And somehow you know, it’s the first chapter of your own.

A/N 2: Thanks for reading, loves. Xoxo, Yoon <3

[esseastri]

Nicole's Favorite Books That She Read in 2024!

I think I missed doing this post the last few years, but let's get back on the train, shall we?

In no particular order, we have:

The Book of Ile-Rein, by Martha Wells: I've been gobbling up all the Martha Wells backlist that Tor has been reprinting, and I adored this set. Element of Fire was a classic and Death of the Necromancer was a romp. Both were fun for very different reasons, but as always I love Martha's characters too much.

Lady Eve's Last Con, by Rebecca Fairmow: Oh, what an absolute DELIGHT of a novel! Full of 1820s etiquette and elegance, 1920s glitz and glam, 2020s swag and shenanigans, and 2120s gravity and grit, this book is fast and fun. The characters are unforgettable, the plot is unputdownable, and the romance is to die for. The most fun you've had at a zero-g engagement gala, for sure.

The River Has Roots, by Amal El-Mohtar: Comes out in March 2025!: I cannot put into coherent words how very much I love Amal El-Mohtar's writing. It's just so beautiful. Lyrical and clever, intricate but open, so full of heart. This book was written with so much love, and it shows. I could wrap myself in this story like it's a scarf and just wander its sentences forever.

The City in Glass, by Nghi Vo: God, this book is so beautiful, but it made me full-body sob for an entire chapter, so I guess, be aware. This book is about grief. Loss and hurt and anger and grief. It is absolutely gorgeous.

Parable of the Sower, by Octavia Butler: It's really hard to rate this book because it was amazing and also horrifying. So many terrible things happen, but the book is beautiful, too. Despite the fact that everything that can go wrong in Lauren's life does, in fact, go wrong, she is so hopeful. She's got something to believe in, and she is so tenacious. I hated this book and I also loved it. And I am so deeply angry at every literature class I took that didn't teach Octavia Butler.

The Dead Cat Tail Assassins, by P Djeli Clark: I don't think P. Djèlí Clark is capable of writing a thing I don't like. His prose is just magical, his ideas are brilliant, his characters are wonderful, and his books just fill me with joy. This was hilarious and brutal and fun and sad and I loved it. I loved it so much.

Mammoths at the Gates, by Nghi Vo: If you haven't read the Singing Hills, don't start with this one, go back and read the first three. But then read this one. This one is about grief and it is beautiful.

Swordcrossed, by Freya Marske: The Midnight Bargain's less magical and much spicier cousin, this book is an absolute delight. I'm a sucker for a snarky con man with a heart of gold, so I was sold on Luca from page one, but Matti crept up on me and I found myself loving his seriousness and his sneaky sense of humor, too. Personally, I want the Maya and Sofia POV of this book, because I love those two women more than I can explain, but I'm content with the disaster boys getting the spotlight, too. A great, low-stakes romp though business espionage, sword lessons, guild intrigue, "sword lessons", and the wildest wedding this town has ever seen, Swordcrossed is just fun. So much fun.

A Novel Love Story, by Ashley Poston: This one is about how books by your favorite authors have the ability to change the course of your life, and I just wish Ashley could know that she's that author for me. I love this book.

Howl's Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones: I'm still not sure how I somehow managed to miss this book entirely, but god, it is SO SWEET and I LOVE IT SO MUCH. It wraps up very quickly at the end, but honestly, that feels very Howl--slapdash and manic and wild. I love how Sophie is the embodiment of "This Might As Well Happen." I just really love them all. What a good book.

Godkiller, by Hannah Kaner: I loved Kissen from page one, and Elo is such a soft boy he was irresistible, and I love the worldbuilding of this strange, godful land sO MUCH. The circle of people creating gods who create people and destroy them so the people must destroy them is such a fascinating design for faith and belief, and I loved the exploration of it.

The Mars House, by Natasha Pulley: Have you ever gotten mad at an author for being too good at writing words? For taking deep, dark, heavy topics like prejudice and fear, anger and murder, right versus good versus kind--and making them beautiful and delicate? For taking harsh edges and writing them in such a way that they seem like soft candlelight? For taking real science and feeding enough fiction into it that you hope this is how the world turns out because maybe, if it were real, then things might be okay a long time from now? Anyway, I've finished this book and I am pissed off that I finished it because what the hell do I read now?

City of Bones, by Martha Wells: While I don't jive with the title of this book (and I'm not sure the book jives with it either), I loved everything else about it. Wells is an absolute master of characters, especially non-human characters that end up being the most human and the best of them. Khat is no exception, and falls in with Murderbot, Moon, and Kai on my favorites list. I love a person who is too deeply good for their own safety. And Wells writes these doofuses perfectly. It's a slow start and a soft story (surprisingly soft, considering how dark it can be), but if you can give it a little patience and attention, this book--like its main character--will open up to you and reward you greatly for your time.

[knowltonsrangers]

theoretically

TURN!Benjamin Tallmadge x F!reader

check out part one here!

[a/n: got a lot of love on this ask, and I really enjoyed writing a part 2! swearing & minor mentions of death ahead.]

“Ben—Major!”

You hiss, hiking up your skirt as you follow him outside the tent, a handful of steps behind him as he moves through the camp.

“Must you, y/n? It is something that is not up for debate.”

You nearly fall in the mud as the two of you approach a brick house at the head of the camp, men similarly dressed to the patriot in question stationed out front.

Annoyed, Ben sighs, stopping in his tracks to allow you to catch up to his pace.

“I told you, once you were to be questioned, the General wanted to see you.”

“You didn’t tell me that the general was George Washington!”

You watch with mild amusement as Ben’s eyebrows raise, watching the gears turn in his brain, realizing he’s never told you the General’s full name.

“So you must know something—“

“‘Cause he’s the first…fuck, I don’t think I can say that.”

“Manners, please.”

“You’re one to talk,”

You offer the best glower you can, reminding him of just how rudely he treated you when you both crossed paths for the first time.

“Just…y/n, in front of the General, please.”

You drop your scowl and your skirt, letting it graze the ground as Ben extends his hand, helping you up the steps.

“Thank you.”

You whisper, subconsciously missing his touch once he reaches past you to open the door. The soldiers at the entrance nod expectantly at the major, and you can’t help but wonder how much trouble you were about to get into.

How did you end up in this room? Pleading with the ghost of the first president of the United States to not execute you because you really just are a stupid idiot that somehow ended up in a revolutionary war encampment?

The man himself, just as intimidating as the books say he is, tall enough to make your neck hurt, yet his features remain soft as if he isn’t quite sure what he’s looking at.

You wish you could think the same.

“This is the woman you found in the woods?”

“Yes, but not the clothes I found her in. I did not want to raise suspicions.”

Ben gravels, standing directly behind you, successfully blocking your only exit, as if he intentionally did so.

“What is your goal for entering the camp?”

Washington asks, and you’re hyper aware he’s speaking to you, so the best you can do is begin to warble out a bunch of nonsense.

“General, sir—I would just like to go home, and I know that this sounds insane, but you must believe me—“

“y/n.”

Ben takes his turn to hiss your name, seemingly appalled at your inability to form a coherent sentence, when the man in front of you sighs, sitting at his desk that was littered with documents and maps.

“Tallmadge, she seems rather frightened.”

“I can assure you, that was not by my doing.”

“You suspect she is a spy?”

“Spy, I…I do not think so. Confused, surely.”

Your gaze flits back and forth between the two, palms clammy as you run them down the front of your dress.

“If I was a spy, I’d be a shite one.”

You mumble, not intending for the two men to hear you.

“That was a joke, oh my god—“

“y/n, was it?”

“Yes, sorry, yes.”

“Your accent and your mannerisms are not something I am familiar with. I am inclined to agree with the major, you are seemingly unwell to me.”

“If you think I’m sick, that’s totally fine, just please don’t kill me.”

Your hands clasp, ready to get on your knees and beg for it, when the general laughs, standing from his chair and crossing the room.

“The thought never crossed my mind. Tallmagde brought me up to speed, he seemingly is on your side, miss,”

Turning over your shoulder, you are horrified to find that Ben is smirking to himself, so you so kindly flip him the bird behind your back, away from the general.

You hope the context is all the same.

“I beg your pardon, but then what was the point of all this?”

You suddenly realize your brashness.

“Sorry. Sir.”

“I would like to hear more of your story, because though it sounds fabricated, I have no reason to suspect you of anything. Yet.”

“Fair enough.”

You shrug, watching as Ben takes a step forward and addresses the general.

“She has pleaded with me that she has transported in time, and though it may account for her strange actions, I do not believe it,”

“Run her name through the camp. See if it rings any bells.”

Your mouth opens, and your raise a finger, ready to interject, when Washington calls another name you recognize.

“Hamilton will see you out. Tallmagde and I have some things to discuss.”

“But, I—“

The door opens fully, and by the time you go to turn, a hand lands softly on the crook of your arm.

“Best we get going, miss.”

“Oh, for fucks sake—“

Yet another officer in a blue coat, a fiery redhead that all but yanked you from the room.

[where-pain-is-so-pretty]

The Stars In Your Eyes

Pairing: Olli x Reader

Category: Fluff

Word Count: 1,443 Notes:

This is the first full fic I wrote since Feburary It's rather short and surely not my best work but I'm still proud of myself for finishing it. Also, I'm grateful to be part of this fandom project, thank you for the opportunity and thx for kinda getting me back into writing <3 Can't wait to see what you all came up with!)

"Let's go home." you are already half asleep when you hear your boyfriend's suggestions. His hand softly caresses your arm to wake you up, and when you feel him kiss the top of your hair you force yourself to open your tired eyes.

You had spent the night at Niko's place with some friends, eating dinner, drinking wine, and sharing old and new stories. And you would have loved to take part in the conversations for longer but at some point sleep had taken over, turning your brain into much, and working too slowly to form a coherent sentence or understand references. Olli had noticed half an hour ago and suggested going home but you had shrugged it off, he was deep into a conversation with Joonas and you were cuddled to his side, your head resting on his shoulder. You listened to their nerd talk about guitar pedals and tunings, none of their words reached your brain but you found comfort in Olli's voice and his calming presence made you feel safe. So, you didn't fight it when your heavy eyes closed on their own accord.

You nod as an answer, throwing Joonas, across from you an apologetic look. Olli takes the last gulp of red wine from his glass before standing up and offering you a hand, which you accept gladly. Your bones are heavy and your head is drowsy with sleep. You said your goodbyes to the remaining guests and slipped into your coats before stepping outside. The nightly air is crispy and you press yourself closer to Olli, who has wrapped an arm around you.

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you,". The cold brought your mind back to life, and you wished you could have stayed for longer but every cell in your body was screaming for sleep now. "Don't be, I'm pretty tired as well.", he remarks in a soft voice. You are about to make a joke about him being always tired but that is when something else catches your attention. The bright Christmas decorations of the mall across from you. Fairy lights in different colors, blinking snowflakes and stars. Stars. You stop in your tracks and raise your head to the sky. A hollow feeling builds in your chest when you a greeted by an empty yellowish-grey canvas instead of a sky full of twinkling stars. Sometimes you forget you moved into the city. "What's wrong, love?" your boyfriend asks beside you, slipping his hand into yours. "No stars," you reply and the realization leaves you empty for a moment." Olli squeezes your hand tighter. "It's sad that they are completely swallowed by light pollution." You nod, agreeing with his statement, and start to walk on again silently.

Olli and you had moved to Helsinki two months ago, leaving your small hometowns hadn't been easy for either of you but in the long term you both knew it was the right decision. No long train or car rides to see each other, no stressful travel days for him to meet with his band or to travel abroad. Also, almost all your friends lived around here and the city had already become a second home for the two of you. And with Olli by your side, starting a new life had been quite the opposite of being difficult or scary. He was the love of your life after all and waking up next to him every morning was worth all the trouble you had to face while moving.

In the past weeks you hadn't had much time to miss your old town, you had been too busy with your new job, building your home, exploring the city, and settling in. But thinking about it now, you mostly missed the small things about living in the countryside, like taking a walk through the forest nearby, passing cows on your way home, petting stray cats, and gazing at the night sky after a long shift or night out.

It's a few meters away from your apartment building when you break the silence: "You know, this might sound silly, but I really miss seeing the stars every night, they somehow always grounded me."

"It's not silly, babe. I miss them too." Olli kisses your cheek, it's a quick peck but you still can feel his beard rub against your soft skin.

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

It's the next Friday when you come home to Olli already awaiting you at the door. He has a mischievous grin on his lips and his eyes sparkle when he takes your coat off. "What's up with you?" you ask him lifting one of your brows as you examine him. "Nothiiiing." You know by the tone of his voice and the gleaming in his blue eyes he's lying, but you still greet him with a kiss. His smile is even wider when you part. "Oh, what have you done this time?". You are sure this is going to be one of his surprises and you can't help but find it cute how badly he always fails to hide his own excitement. "No more questions. Come change, then follow me to the bedroom to find out yourself." He hands you over a pile of clothes. You take them but not without studying each piece, in hopes of finding a clue. It's one of his hoodies (you stole it months ago so it's officially yours now) a pair of sweatpants and a pair of fluffy socks. The usual comfy clothes you wear around the house. You change quickly, now fueled by excitement yourself and eager to find out what your boyfriend has set up in your bedroom. Olli can't help but follow your every move, his gaze lingering on you when you are stripped down to your underwear. "So, is it something kinky?" you ask, assuming by the way he looks at you. "No, not this time."

Once you are fully dressed he offers you his hand to lead you to the bedroom, he stops right in front of the door. "Close your eyes!" By now you are used to his little game, so you comply and close your eyes shut. You know how much effort he puts into these surprises and you love him a little more each time. And even though you don't know what he has come up with this time, you are already sure you are going to love it.

He opens the door for you and leads you through it, stopping behind you. He's still holding your hand when you hear his low voice close to your ear. "Open your eyes, love." (In another scenario, it wouldn't have sent more than a shiver down your spine.)

When you open your eyes you can't quite believe what you are seeing. Your shared bedroom is illuminated in violet light, coming from a small projector on Ollis's bedside table. It displays a galaxy and stars on your ceiling. And for a second you lose yourself in the soothing movements of the twinkling stars and waves the projector paints onto your walls. Then you take a closer look around. There is a fuming cup of tea and a bowl of snacks on your nightstand, next to a small bouquet of favorite flowers. On the wall right above your bed, are more stars, glow-in-the-dark stickers, in different shapes and sizes. You follow their trail from the headboard up to the ceiling and now you see them between the lights too. It must have taken hours to put these on your walls. And your bedding now matched the galaxy theme of the room as well.

"What do you think?" Olli is standing in front of the bed now, fumbling with his hands and you can see the light of the projector reflecting in his eyes. You haven't said anything since you entered the room, he had left you speechless once again. And there wasn't much you could respond with other than: "I love you!" and pulling him into a tight hug. You can feel a happy giggle resonate from his chest as he holds you close. "I'm glad you like it. It's not the real stars, you know...but I tried" he said letting go of you. "Don't be so modest! You outdid yourself!" Even in the dim light of the projector, you can see the red in his cheeks. You pull him close again, this time for a kiss. A kiss that tells him everything you can't find the words for right now.

"Wanna gaze at the stars together?" "Nothing more than that!", you softly push him onto the bed and let yourself fall into the sheets next to him.

[ivypost]

AS LONG AS THE LEMON TREES GROW

!!spoiler alert!!

I just finished reading the book "as long as the lemon trees grow" by Zoulfa Katouh AND GUYS.

GO READ IT IF YOU HAVEN'T YET!

To begin with, I'm not much of a reader, I do read, but very occasionally. AND I FINISHED THE BOOK IN TWO SITTINGS.

SOLID 9/10!!!

Firstly, I love the way the whole book was crafted, the words, the language, the characters, some specific lines tore into my flesh and touched my bones.

here's one of my faves

"THIS LAND IS ME AND I AM HER"

The words were so well crafted to the point were you could actually see everything happen, the words so well woven together your brain creates imagery!

I recommend reading this book if you want to empathize more with what's going on in Palestine, it gives you this sort of individualistic look into what's going on there.

ALSO SALAMAH AND KENAN ARE SO CUTE TT MY HEART!

The only part I wished to see was more of them working through their differences and disagreements and I feel like that would have explained their chemistry better rather than just giving off "made for each other" vibes.

BUT REGARDLESS THEY ARE TOO PERFECT I CAN'T.

And Layla, Layla sounds like a beautiful person inside out and i wish she and Hamza had a happy ending too my heart aches for them.

and another part that didn't sit right with me which is the MAJORRR reason I gave the book a 9 and not a 10 was because of the part where when Salamah comes home with Kenan and she realizes Layla for the past six months was a Hallucination, I felt like she got over it too quick and the writing didn't really capture the depth of the situation or what she was feeling. because guys according to Salamah she just relived Layla's death but we don't see enough of her processing that.

But the part that also struck me from the whole Layla hallucination thing was how people literally live with us through our memories of them. being physically close to someone is just one aspect of being close with someone. People are remembered by us by the things they say, things they love, the scents they wear, and the things they create and I just love the idea of it. I love the Idea of how strong of an Impact these things about us can leave on someone.

And although Khawf isn't depicted to be the best character I think she really needed Khawf to protect her and keep her safe and I mean, Khawf is a part of her afterall so it makes sense i guess?

Thank you for reading and I apologize if none of what i said made sense because my thoughts are very scattered and I often find it hard to weave It and streamline into one Coherent sentence LMAO.

[zorilleerrant]

“Which is the dude from the thing?” Bernard asks, and Tim has to stare at him so hard it feels like his eyes are going to melt out of his head, but Bernard doesn’t even clarify until he clears his throat so blatantly it hurts. “You know, that one pop star that everyone wants to make fight Batman. I think he’s from – okay, now I can’t remember where he’s from, either.”

“Maybe you should go to sleep,” Tim says, rubbing his shoulders and kissing the top of his ear. “You’ve been up all night writing fanfic.” And it’s maybe selfish, but Tim kind of wishes he’d been up all night making chili or something, if he’s going to stay up all night, because the shitty fast food places aren’t open yet, and he needs something dense to eat. Whatever there is to microwave isn’t going to cut it.

“You’ve been up all night fighting clowns or whatever, so I think of the two of us, I make healthier life choices,” Bernard says, snappishly, but also without looking up from his screen. Tim knows it’s his fault that Bern keeps staying up, that it’s just a reaction to his anxiety, that it’s going to have to be Tim doing something, or else they’re just going to have to wait it out. But he still doesn’t expect Bernard, half asleep and writing what appears to be barely coherent language (and not entirely English), to say, “there’s a guy, he’s named after a bird? Shit, maybe he’s a superhero, actually. You guys all have bird names, and you’re superheroes, right?”

“Bern,” Tim says, gently, turning the chair so Bernard has to look away from his computer, which he clings very hard to, making agitated noises. “Bernard. Bernard, look at me. What the hell kind of bird do you think a Nightwing is? Do Oracle, Red Hood, Spoiler, Signal, or Huntress sound like any kind of bird to you? Are you tired enough to think a bat is a bird?”

“Red Hood sounds like it probably could be a bird,” Bernard mutters, scratching a little too intensely at his eyebrow, “some kind of like. A falcon or something. A hawk. What’s the dude who dresses in like super fashionable clothing and then he’s got like a motorcycle and stuff and I think he’s an assassin.”

“Bear, babe, you just described like half my family,” Tim says, tilting their foreheads together so he can attempt to look his boyfriend in the eye, except said boyfriend keeps darting his gaze back and forth, not like he’s looking for hidden dangers or weapons to fight them off with, but like he forgot something crucial. Turning off the stove level stuff. (Tim darts out to check the stove, just quickly, but it’s off.)

“He’s pink,” says Bernard, with a level of certainty Tim definitely can’t pull off on that little sleep, much as he tries. But he has no idea what kind of pink pop star motorcycle riding assassin fighting Batman Bernard thinks he – fuck.

“Flamingo?” Tim practically yells, wondering how to best pack incredulity into the rest of his sentence, “are you talking about Eddie fucking Flamingo, Bernard? That’s not a pop star and he’s not from a TV show, he’s real, and he has a rap sheet a mile long, because, as you said, he’s an assassin.”

“Right, yeah. Him. He’s cool,” Bernard says, with the tone of voice that definitely means that wasn’t the first adjective he thought of but he’s still worried Tim’s going to be jealous about it. Which isn’t totally unfair, because Tim still does get a little jealous when Bernard looks at other guys, but he’s trying to cut down on that because it’s not exactly helping anyone with anything. And Tim would like to be able to look at other guys without feeling guilty. (Just look.)

“He is not cool, Bernard, he eats fucking faces, Bernard, you need to go to sleep,” Tim says, and then pulls Bern’s face into his hands, and looks at him very long-sufferingly, but lovingly, and places a kiss on the tip of his nose. And then, just to drive his point home, repeats, “Go the fuck to sleep.”

“No, I have to get this scene,” Bernard says, typing the word Flamingo way too many times for Tim’s comfort, scrolling up and down through the document he has open, and several other files that don’t actually seem to have writing in them. “Hey, how strong is your dad, anyway? Could he like. Lift a motorcycle?”

“Could he lift a motorcycle?” Tim asks, giving up on spinning Bernard’s chair around again in favor of rubbing at his face and regretting asking any of these questions at any point, but unable to (after hearing that) let this lie. “How strong do you think Batman is? You know he’s human, right? Like a regular human? I did explain this, didn’t I?”

“He could have robots in his suit or something, I don’t know,” Bernard says, while Tim tries not to cry, because, admittedly, Luke can lift a motorcycle in most of his less compact suits. But the recharge time on those is astronomical, so it’s not like that’s a helpful comparison. There’s a reason Bruce uses them so sparingly, but there are a couple he obviously could lift a motorcycle in, if he saw a reason to use them. So Tim doesn’t even know what to say.

So he just reads over Bernard’s shoulder, while his boyfriend smirks and points out a couple of choice sentences, one of which he’ll have to come back to because that is definitely not a language he knows. It might be Mando’a. It’s written in roman characters, at least, which rules out a lot of things. “What do you need him to lift a motorcycle for, anyway?” Tim asks, because so far the motorcycle doesn’t seem to have appeared, although it might be in an earlier chapter. He’s really going to have to ask Bernard how many chapters this thing is.

“Oh, I want him to pick it up and use it to smack Flamingo in the face,” Bernard says, matter of factly, and then mimes what Tim figures must be what he thinks it would be like to pick up a motorcycle one-handed and then bitchslap someone with it. It’s a little bit too casual of a gesture to be convincing about it, though.

“Bernard, my love, my life, my reason for getting up in the morning,” Tim says, pinning his wrists so he can't open his browser back up again, “I have never been more serious about anything. You need to rethink this once you’ve slept.” The words grate, coming out of his mouth, and he’s not enjoying feeling sympathy for all the people who’ve said this to him, and probably he was still right and they were still wrong, but, like, he gets why they said it, now.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Bernard says, condescendingly patting Tim’s arm and giving him a rough kiss before turning back to the computer and typing rapidfire, in a way Tim’s pretty sure he’s never seen Bern do while completely awake. Some of those words are Portuguese, though. At least one sentence is in German. (It’s the one where the motorcycle finally appears.) “I think Batman can probably lift a motorcycle, if he gets a running start.”

Tim picks him up and carries him.

[astramachina]

✨Did you know (probably not since I refuse to talk about it)✨ that The Architect/formerly The Atramentuos Originator is actually a predecessor/prototype for The Singularity Project?

The history is LONG, and after cannibalizing some vital elements of the fic I decided that yeah, both things are different enough that the fanfic itself can go back up and stay up this time.

If you squint you'll realize the whole "hyper-genius goes to Antarctica, experiences the Horrors, finds something godlike in the ice that enlightens him even further, ???, profit" is a narrative both stories have in common. But there's some very key differences!

↓↓ If you also wish to be enlightened on the mystery that is TSP ↓↓

IDK if this counts as a "WIP Intro" because it's not strictly about TSP but I wanna go a bit into detail about the writing journey for both pieces.

I wrote Originator/Architect back in 2020 following, and I kid you not, a string of scarily coherent nightmares that made me feel like the protagonist of a Lovecraftian tale. Maybe it was thanks to the beginning of the pandemic and the world itself feeling like it was ending, but either way, out of my teaching job and in less than stellar living accommodations (and before starting therapy), I did the one thing I could do: write about it.

I have a long history of writing extreme AUs with the self-imposed parameters of "keep these characters as in-character as humanly possible", which is what I set out to do with this fic. As a consequence, Originator did not get much attention. The stobotnik fandom was YOUNG, just a couple of weeks old, and Sonic doesn't particularly lend itself to horror, so it made sense. That also meant that I was devastated that such a rich piece of somewhat original work was withering away in obscurity. I poured hours of work to the point of manic insanity into this fic hardly anyone was reading, which made me fly off the handle.

The last straw was my newfound fandom BFF refusing to read any more of it because it scared her. It was then that I realized "this is good, but it feels like too much", so I yoinked it off AO3 with the intention of turning it into a 100% original piece of fiction. But see my previous point about keeping characters as in-character as possible. That threw a huge wrench into that idea, because both these characters were 1:1 reskins of Stone and Robotnik.

That did not stop me from embellishing the universe. New characters popped in, Stone and Bot got new names, I wrote one-off short stories (one of which nearly got traditionally published), and even plotted entire stories with these new characters. None of it went anywhere. SOMETHING was missing, and I wasn't sure what. The story eventually faded from memory as I went on to work on various original novels, learning from Originator's mistake.

Fast-forward to November 2023 when, out of nowhere, I got struck with a "vibe". Not a scene, not a theme, not a trope, nothing even remotely coherent, just a vibe I couldn't even put into words. I spent weeks trying to synthesize a feeling into colors and sounds, into something tangible enough to be written down. There's a 10 page document of senseless words that go nowhere. Half written sentences. A surplus of the color orange. "Smoke. Viewing room. Burning rubber on the run. Neon. Worms? The ground is upturned by something," etc.

By January of 2024 I had a bit more a heading. "70s, mad scientists, the unknown forced to become known, the loneliness of godhood", but it was STILL fighting me. I didn't want to write a book because it felt like something that could not be contained in prose. Which was a huge problem for me because the only kind of writing I've ever done has been prose (I'm excluding theater here because I've only been playwriting for about two years). And so the story continued to writhe and rot in my brain because I still could not understand what it wanted from me.

It was sometime in February, maybe March, that I was watching a video essay on Midwest Angelica, and the narrator made this forceful remark on how there's no excuse for anyone to not embark to create something like it.

"Blender is free. Video editing programs are free. YouTube tutorials are free."

This ruined my life by cracking my brain wide open.

All of a sudden, things began to slot into place. "I can absolutely make a webseries if I want to. Literally nobody's stopping me. How hard can it be?" (THE ANSWER IS VERY. BLENDER'S LEARNING CURVE IS STEEP. AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON DAVINCI RESOLVE. BUT ALSO I HAVE TO FILM????)

New project finally unlocked, but that also meant unlocking a lot of skills I have 0 knowledge of. Even looking down the gauntlet, the story continued to evolve. "What if I make it into an ARG" and "what if it launches off a video game demo".

The plans were BIG, the stakes were even BIGGER, and I'm just one guy who just got a pc powerful enough to get the ball rolling. So.... time to get to work, right?

WRONG.

There was still no story. I had characters, yeah, some themes, some scenes, but what was the meat of it? And then it came to me.

"Hey, remember Originator? Remember what we did with BotnEmil and StoJules? We should revisit that. While we're at it, we should revisit some older OCs from a long abandoned 2017 WIP."

And then I did. All of this to say that if you do ever embark on the journey that is The Singularity Project (official title still pending) whenever it releases, then you will have a leg up by knowing that Originator/Architect can be considered a "modern day retelling" of TSP's earliest story line.

How so?

Dr. Emil Krasner embarks with the Shackleton Expedition of 1914, a journey that ensures his assistant, Mr. Jules Al-Jurjani, returns with ice samples carrying an unknown specimen.

You see where I'm going with this? What little I thematically cannibalized of the original version of Originator is so minuscule and drastically different that I just. Decided to slap that bad boy back up.

Now, I'm obviously not going to tell you how this ties into what I've already shared of TSP. You guys know about Mike, Cy, and Verne. And this is, technically, an ARG, so the puzzle is half the fun.

Which also makes interacting with writeblr more than a little difficult because how the fuck do I share 1) without spoiling stuff and 2) stuff that's not in prose format???

Anyway, if you read all of this, may the universe give you a nice treat today. I'm gonna go do some video editing.

[ortegaywolfie]

A Broke Soul - Chapter 2 // Wenclair Fic

Wednesday stretched, her tense muscles relaxing after so long in the same position, the sudden movement catching the attention of Morticia who was reading along with Gomez on the couch.

"Everything okay, dear?" The matriarch asked, analyzing her daughter sitting in front of the piano with her shoulders slumped and eyes closed. Wednesday grunted in agreement, turning her attention back to the piano, it had been two months since her hands began to be affected and now the black veins extended missing a finger to her elbows. She started playing the piano frequently before she lost her nerves, using muscle memory as a physical therapy now that her hands were stiff and tingling, it was an immense effort to get her fingers to move, almost an afternoon to play a sequence of notes in a slow rhythm.

"I thought being deprived of writing would affect you more, child" Fester's voice sounded cheerful, Morticia stood up to greet him along with Gomez while Wednesday didn't even turn around, sticking to the painful mission of completing note sequence.

"Hi uncle, what are you doing here?" The brunette asked, feeling her head throbbing with the effort to move her disabled fingers.

"Oh, I came to watch my favorite niece slowly perish." The answer came acidly, making Wednesday sigh, squeezing her eyes shut and releasing her inert hands on the piano making a group of notes scratch her eardrums.

"How kind." She replied in the same ironic tone, trying to relax her mind to lessen the headache.

"So, tell me, how was your last full moon?" The curiosity and sarcasm dripping from his voice made the brunette even more irritated, she turned in a jolt to her uncle.

"It was desperate, I felt like I was suffocating all night and wished I was dead so it would stop hurting."

"That's nice." A maniacal grin grew on Fester's face as his niece stared at him with an arched eyebrow. He was cut off before he could begin to speak.

"No, I don't think I'm made for love. And yes, if I knew I could reach her, I would go." She grumbled, looking at her uncle with a tired look.

"In that diamond-hard head of yours, has it ever occurred to you that if you're her mate and you're far away, you will kill her?" He asked, crossing his arms across his chest as Morticia had a questioning look on her face.

"Mate? Wednesday, who is she?" The older woman asked, moving closer.

"Enid. Enid Sinclair is the woman sentenced to die because of my curse." She sighed defeated, she had no point in fighting their knowledge of this, although Fester probably already knew because of Pugsley, gossip boy. Her parents had a surprised look on their faces as Fester continued to smile with teeth showing, making Wednesday uneasy.

"And what exactly do you mean by 'sentenced', my little crow?" Gomez asked. The smaller brunette shook her head, letting go of the painful throbbing in her brain and ignoring the question, flashes of that night coming back to her in a blur.

"Can we talk now, Willa?" The melodious voice sounded in her back, drawing attention from the table.

"Howdy Nid" Pugs and Eugene greeted together, receiving a smile from the blonde, who also nodded to Wednesday's parents.

"What are you guys doing?" The blonde asked the boys, who had what looked like the beginnings of a homemade bomb in their laps.

"That's pretty cool! It's a bom-" Pugsley began, being rudely cut off.

"Come on," Wednesday interrupted, getting up and pulling the blonde by the collar of her dress to the school exit. They walked together to the side outside, where it was empty, so they could have privacy.

"So?" Wednesday asked as soon as they stopped, watching the blonde clench her hands and bite her lower lip in a clear sign of nervousness.

"Yeah, well...I-I wanted to talk to you about, um...about," Enid stammered heavily, shuffling through her thoughts and unable to muster up absolutely no coherent speech.

"Why are you so nervous? Did you kill someone?"

"WHAT? no, my god Willa"

"Yeah, it's not really like you," Wednesday spoke up, bracing herself against the wall as the blonde rubbed her face, trying to calm her breathing that was ragged from the heavy heartbeats. It was now or never.

"I called you here because I need to tell you something, actually I think I should have told you already but I didn't want to put any kind of werewolf pressure on you, not that you would feel pressured. I mean, you're Wednesday Addams, the woman who doesn't give a damn what anyone else thinks, who is smart and completely capable on her own." Enid started blabbering, getting away from the focus of the conversation and making Wednesday tired.

"Enid, as much as I don't mind compliments, I would appreciate it if you would get to the point." She spoke in a sigh. The blonde agreed, took a deep breath, and spoke again, this time in a low, firm tone.

"I kind of understood that in the first year, with everything that happened and my first wolf out. But I knew it wouldn't work out, I mean, I knew you wouldn't want it and that's okay, my mother always made it clear that I would never be enough for a mate..." Enid paused for breath, rearranging her thoughts, meanwhile Wednesday's gears began to turn with the word. "Mate" to the werewolves was the one chosen by the moon, the one destined to be theirs, they had a mate for life, just like the Addams and their curse. Was it possible that she was Enid's mate? Was the girl right about that?

She knew she was in love with Enid, she knew this in the several exceptions the blonde had with her over the past few years. In the touching, in the worry, in the moments alone when the comfortable silence in the room was enough, in the lack that the ball of chaotic energy that was Enid in the morning made when she went to sleep with Yoko, in the fear of Enid wanting to move into Yoko's room again, in the relief when the blonde decided that the boy gorgon was better as a friend, in the longing to have the bright blue eyes focused on you, to get lost in them like drowning in Enid's sea. She fell in love with the blonde so gradually that she couldn't tell when it started, a love so genuine that it made Wednesday doubt herself, how was it possible for a being of darkness, a small demon bearing bad omens to develop such a pure and gentle feeling for a blonde and immaculate angel like Enid, it was almost blasphemous. A sick joke.

"But these past few years you've been so different with me, so good. And I know it may have been at my pushback, and I'm sorry if I crossed your line ever but-"

"'You have not,'" Wednesday interrupted, assuring the blonde. "You never crossed any of my boundaries, Enid."

"That's a relief, thank you. Anyway, you've shown me that I matter, that I can make things right for someone, and you've shown me a side of you that I don't think anyone else has seen. And I wish I wasn't emotional, but it seems to mean something, our friendship today is completely different from any you've ever had, any I've ever had , so please don't tell me it doesn't mean anything," Enid sighed, stepping forward toward the brunette, entwining her icy hands in hers, leaving little space between their bodies.

Wednesday didn't have much time to react before she lost herself in the ocean blue that stared at her adoringly.

"That. It's something I've never seen you allow with any other person. Sleeping together cuddling or allowing kisses on the cheek, that's something I've never seen you allow with anyone else. So please, Wednesday, don't tell me that doesn't mean anything. Don't tell me I'm the only one here in love with my roommate." Wednesday held her breath, was Enid in love with her? How could she? What did Wednesday have that could attract the woman with the warm and bright personality to the point of falling in love?

"Uh but, what about your mate? You might be in love with me but only because you haven't met it yet." Wednesday questioned, trying to register the new information in her brain. Enid laughed, squeezing the brunette's fingers that were entwined in hers as she admired the brown eyes she loved.

"I am a blood moon wolf, Wednesday. My lupine cycle is ruled by love, by my mate." Enid explained, watching the brunette draw her eyebrows together as she put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"What exactly is that supposed to mean?"

"Bloodmoon werewolves live for their mates, we live to love and protect them. But, we must live with them, otherwise I would go mad to the point of living as a lost wolf, destined to wander aimlessly until the end of my days. No pack, no conscience and no love, longing for the day when it would all end."

"And you're sure you're fated to that?" Wednesday asked fearfully.

"Well, I turned into a blood moon, the chance of that being a coincidence is, I don't know, 2%."

"That's a good percentage. Besides, you turned to save me, what would that have to do with it?" Enid remained silent, a sad smile dancing on the blonde's face as she waited for Wednesday to come to the conclusion on her own. Wednesday held her breath feeling her lungs burning, rolling her eyes at Enid and taking a step back, it couldn't be true.

"You're not 100% sure about that." Wednesday stated, staring at the blonde who stepped closer again.

"No, but I'm in love with you anyway, mate or not." Enid whispered, face slowly drawing closer as their gazes remained locked on each other.

"Enid..." Wednesday whispered, feeling her sanity fade as the pink lips drew closer. As strange as it seemed, she knew what was about to happen, and she felt at peace, she felt like she was doing the right thing, not thoughtless and nervous like she was with Tyler. The feeling of belonging entered her body as she closed her eyes. Enid smiled, faces millimeters apart, giving her time in case Wednesday decided to pull away, but no movement was made; the blonde rubbed her nose against the brunette's in a simple caress, and Wednesday's world fell into darkness.

-///-

Really, she was having a vision now? A clearing in the middle of a dense forest, a wheel of frightened people in plain clothes and mouths moving without any sound, had three extremely bruised but standing boys and a body in the middle of the wheel.

"Is she breathing?" A thick, desperate voice sounded as one of the men approached the center of the circle.

"Doesn't look like it." Wednesday knew that voice, it was one of Enid's brothers in the middle, no idea what his name was.

"She snapped, fought the three of us and the bear like we were all enemies." The same boy continued, holding his arm that looked broken against his chest.

"We know whose fault this all is, what the hell!" Esther came up, growling among the people until she reached the middle, Wednesday watched with difficulty as the woman sobbed loudly and threw herself on the ground. The action caused Wednesday to wake up, moving forward to where the older woman knelt; she passed like a ghost through the people, not physically being there.

"SHE'S NOT BREATHING, SHE'S NOT STOPPING BLEEDING" The woman screamed, sobbing loudly as she was pulled along by two men Addams didn't know, but understood to be from the Sinclair pack.

Wednesday reached the center, and wished she hadn't.

Enid, the woman looked a little older and was lying motionless on the floor, torso open in deep claw cuts that lacerated the flesh, blood dripped in rivers from her pale body, her eyes closed and her lips purple, legs stretched out and full of bruises and feet raw. Wednesday was used to this kind of sight, even an appreciative one. But this one made her want to throw up.

"I don't want to lose Nid, Daddy" The boy whined, broken voice making Wednesday's head spin.

"We lost Enid years ago son, what we had now was an empty shell of what she once was." The man replied, pulling his son into a hug as tears rolled down the boy's face.

"We lost her because of that Addams girl, that damned girl who destroyed Enid, drove her crazy." Esther sobbed loudly, collapsing to her knees and being joined by the rest of the pack.

Wednesday was unable to look away from the woman she loved, was it her fault? Would that be Enid's fate if they stayed together? Were her visions giving her a chance to do the right thing, and not sentence the girl to this future? Would it destroy Enid if she kissed her now?

"I never thought Wednesday would actually keep it up, I never thought she would let it get to that point." Another of Enid's brothers commented tearfully, hugging his mother who was shaking heavily with each sob.

Wednesday moved closer to the body, kneeling at the height of the blonde's chest and reaching for the cold hand with her own. She didn't know when she had started to cry, didn't feel when her body began to tremble heavily, resting her forehead on Enid's, wetting the unmoving face beneath her own. Had she killed the woman she loved? Apparently everyone agreed on that, but how could she? How had she had the strength to sentence the woman to this? Had she driven her mad? Turned her against the pack?

Her thoughts were shuffling with the stabbing pain in her chest as the realization seeped into her bones. Enid was dead, in a future not too far away since her brothers didn't look that much older. She was dead because of her. Enid was dead, and the sensation of her heart beating painfully against her chest had never been so suffocating, to feel her lungs burning as she drew in air, the blood roaring through her veins with desperation and her brain throbbing against her skull, Enid felt none of it anymore. Wednesday felt shattered, broken inside into a thousand pieces, the air couldn't seem to get into her body anymore, composed now of agony and despair, completely aching and consumed by pain, she lay down beside Enid. She ran an arm across her shattered collarbone, feeling her chest wet with the blood on the ground, rested her face on her stiff shoulder, trying to find the blonde's vanilla scent amidst the suffocating rust scent that permeated the entire clearing, and allowed herself to close her eyes, knowing she couldn't let that vision happen.

-///-

She returned to consciousness gasping for breath, and was on the floor, arms around her shoulders and waist. She slowly opened her eyes, finding the bright blue ones staring at her with apprehension, Enid was alive. She stood up slowly, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to erase that vision, Enid immobile and torn apart.

"Are you okay? Was it a vision?" The blonde's worried voice bringing Wednesday back to the present, she pulled away in a leap, looking startled at the woman who stared at her in confusion. Enid stepped forward with arms outstretched to check that everything was okay.

"Don't touch me" Wednesday growled, she couldn't let that happen, she couldn't let her vision come true. It would break its own heart and disown its curse if it had to.

"Willa, what happens-"

"Don't call me that, my name is Wednesday" Enid's confused look hurt, but Wednesday was focused.

"I'm sorry you had the wrong idea about this whole situation. Yes, I've never had the friendships to know what the boundary is, but our relationship has never gone beyond that." The lie burned through her throat, spitting like poison. Enid was shocked, eyes glistening in tears as she absorbed the words.

"What? No, of course not Wednesday. We almost kissed, how can you say that?" Enid accused, trying to approach again the brunette who kept an impassive face and inexpressive eyes. Enid hated it when she did that.

"I am telling you the truth, there is nothing more than friendship. I thought I might have a sincere one after Tyler, but it seems you also decided to see 'signs' I gave you about a romantic interest" It was low blow, Wednesday knew that, but she also knew Enid wouldn't let go so easily, she would have to make the blonde despise her.

"Are you really comparing me to him? I spent years with you, Wednesday. I don't have to imagine anything when you actually did those things, you know that." Enid was discredited, being rejected was fine, but being compared to him was too much.

"Stop being unseemly, what do you want me to say? You've got things wrong, Enid. But I hope you find your mate." No, she did not hope, she felt nauseous imagining Enid with someone else, but she felt much more so imagining her dead. She turned to leave, she couldn't look at Enid and not feel the urge to cry, her aching heart beating against her chest choking her.

"Wednesday" Enid called out, holding her by the arm. Wednesday sighed, Enid's warm touch clouding her pain. She felt disgusted with herself for breaking the blonde.

"Look at me, Wednesday." Ordered, it took a few seconds for the brunette to turn around, staring into the trusting blue eyes. Enid pulled the brunette to herself, holding the pale face in her hands, bodies mingling temperatures and breaths bumping against each other, Wednesday was unable to offer resistance.

"Willa. My Willa." Enid declaimed, stroking the smaller girl's cheeks with her thumb. "Look at me, look into the eyes that once veiled your sleep, into the eyes that learned all your expressions, into the eyes that adore you, and tell me you don't feel the same way"

"Enid, please..." She begged in a whisper, she couldn't do it, it was becoming too dense, too painful, too suffocating.

"Please, Willa. I need you, tell me you need me too" Her pleading voice ached in Wednesday's bones, locking her throat with bile and forcing her eyes to keep the tears away. She couldn't answer.

"Tell me you want me and I will fight to the end of the world for you, Willa" That woke the brunette. The warm hands on her face, the thumbs caressing her cheeks, the heavy breathing on her face, the warmth mingling with her cold skin, the pulsing passing from the hands to her cheeks, she opened her eyes staring into the blue ones she loved, the flushed face and Enid's small smile, she couldn't leave the world without it. She couldn't sentence her to her vision, she couldn't let her die.

Her body complained, her heart was beating so hard it felt like it would rather explode than let Wednesday do this, she removed the warm hands from her face, tasting Enid's warm body for the last time, and replied, "I told you my name is Wednesday and I have nothing more to say to you, Enid. I feel nothing but friendship for you, but I think that should end here too." Enid's face is something that would haunt Wednesday for the rest of her days, the broken look, the trembling lips, the defeated face and the slumped shoulders, how could she have been such a monster as to leave her love like that?

She quickly left the place, letting the tears wash over her face as she walked to her room, self-hatred dominating and messing up her thoughts; she would leave that night, she couldn't see the blonde again. She tried to convince herself that she had done the right thing, if staying with Wednesday would kill her, now she could live fully, even if Wednesday was destroyed. A broken soul.

The blonde hair was a mess, the blue eyes were cloudy and the body was skeletal, it looked abandoned. Enid had become a shell, harboring a crazed, broken wolf that cried and clawed at the woman's heart and mind every day for the Addams. Murray looked worriedly at his daughter, languishing before his eyes, unable to do anything.

"Wolfie, please. Eat something" He asked, offering the plate with fruit to her. The woman's breakfast consisted of a bite of some fruit and that was it. Enid didn't look away, keeping her gaze fixed on the kitchen window, lost. Murray sighed, he was tired, losing hope of getting his daughter back. 

"Please tell me how I can help you? I need you." He pleaded, turning his daughter's face toward him, eyes unfocused in his direction.

"The raven." She replied apathetically.

"Who is the raven?" He asked, tired of the same meaningless conversation.

"το κοράκι" She answered, Murray knew the script, she answered the same thing. He tried another approach.

"Do you miss Wednesday Addams?" The blue eyes focused on her father, broken.

"With all of me." 

"Why do you need her?"

"To live" the answer came in a whisper, Enid clutched her shirt above her heart.

"Then why don't you go after her?"

"She doesn't need me" The wolf howled, choking the blonde. Today especially her wolf seemed much more restless, it wanted to take over and cross the country in search of its mate, every full moon was an internal battle to keep that from happening. Wednesday didn't want her.

The woman stood up, leaning on the furniture and made her way to the door. She needed to let her wolf out or she would go mad sooner than she had anticipated. She walked precariously into the forest, undressing in the clearing without really caring if anyone was around. Her body now marked every bone, the product of days without hunger, not even the wolf hunts were for food anymore, it hunted for rage, to distract the mind from the throbbing pain in the pieces of her heart.

Enid took a deep breath, feeling the beast stirring inside her, begging to get out. She bent down, feeling the bones break and readjust, the hair growing as well as her height, and consciousness fading away, giving way to primitive lupine thinking, let it take over completely. She was tired of fighting.

Cold was the first thing she felt penetrating her bones, she opened her eyes slowly finding a dense fog that wouldn't let her see an inch in front of her, her naked and weak body succumbing to the cold making her shiver and hug herself for warmth, but she no longer had a healthy body to lean on. She stood up, sitting with difficulty on the grass, she couldn't recognize the place but it smelled of death, had her time finally come? Had her lonely, maddening torment finally come to an end?

She tried to stand up, but her arms couldn't take the weight to support herself, she was exhausted from the untimely transformation and the hunt the wolf practiced. She didn't know how long it ran or what it did, but it had left all her muscles exhausted, failing with any effort. She felt the wolf euphoric in her chest, howling and running like a hyperactive puppy making her dizzy; she took a deep breath, feeling light headed, she was about to pass out from exhaustion in that place of terrible odor and thick fog. She lay down again, her eyes heavy when footsteps were heard sounding far away, coffee and books was the new aroma amidst the stench of death and a black cane with a wolf on the end was the last thing to appear in the mist before the deafening and emotional howl of the wolf carried her to unconsciousness.