#i'm literally begging you

[anonymousbeefriendfanfics]

Dating Lyney

Day #1 of writing for my beloved in an attempt to coerce him into showing up early. Come home, my little magician, I need you!

Please feel free to send me requests for what you want to see next!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Character: Lyney Warnings: Fluff, magic. Some mild spoilers for the Fontaine archon quest. Note: Some people consider Lyney to be a minor, so keep in mind that he's 18+ in this, even though there's no NSFW.

So you wanna date the rizzler huh? You'd better be prepared, because he's the world's biggest flirt. It literally never stops, no matter if you've been together five weeks or five years. He's always going to have something suave to say, always going to keep surprising you with little magic tricks. It's just how he is, especially when he's passionate about something - or someone. You'd best be ready to hear him say he loves you twenty times a day, and you'd better say it back, too, or else he'll get that adorable pout on his face and hit you with the puppy dog eyes. Sometimes you wonder if the man has a serious bone in his entire body or if Lynette inherited them all, but you know him better than that.

Lyney is such a gentleman. He's ridiculously charismatic, but he's also so, so sweet. He'll do anything and everything for you. He pulls out chairs for you, holds your hand while walking - you'll definitely have to stop him from draping his cape across puddles for you like they do in the movies. It's a little cheesy, sure, but it's so endearing with that sweet, lovesick smile on his face, and you can't help but love him more for it.

He's a very observant person. It just comes with the territory. He's trained himself to pick up on the subtlest little details, and while this primarily applies to magic and his work, but it also applies very heavily to you. He notices everything about you, from what you order at restaurants you go to on dates to what color clothing you prefer to wear to the way your tone and expression naturally shift as you talk about different topics. He memorizes you, so much so that he'll surprise you with things you've mentioned once in his presence, or perhaps not at all - he's quite good at putting pieces together and figuring out things behind the scenes, after all. You once asked him if he had the ability to read your mind after he pulled a slice of your favorite cake out of his hat, and he merely laughed and replied, "a magician never reveals his secrets, my dear~"

Speaking of which, his laugh is one of your favorite sounds in the whole world. The little chuckles and laughs peppered throughout his speech are lovely, of course, but you know they're mostly part of the show he plays for the audience. Your true favorite is the way he laughs when you're alone with him, when you say or do something funny or catch him off guard. There's something so magical about it, like you're getting a private glimpse of his beautiful soul. One of your favorite memories is when you got him to laugh so hard he could barely breathe, a genuine smile stretched across his face and a delightful sparkle in his eyes.

During the early part of your relationship, he's very guarded and secretive, despite his open and outgoing persona. Depending on your thoughts about the organization, he might attempt to hide being a Fatuus from you, just because he's terrified of your reaction. He puts a lot of effort into appearing absolutely perfect, because he believes you deserve nothing less than perfection. Even if he is honest about his work, he holds back his innermost feelings and desires for quite some time, continuing to play the part that is required of him. He cares dearly about you, and he's not about to let you go because of a careless misstep on his part.

It takes him some time before he learns to be vulnerable with you. He's so convinced that he always has to be perfect, that he has to be strong for his siblings and for you, and he doesn't allow himself to show any of the negative emotions that haunt him day after day. Slowly but surely, however, you will break that wall down - brick by brick, if you must. He begins to lower his guard when you are alone, to let the mask slip and show his true feelings, even if they aren't glamorous, even if he hates them. Once he trusts you enough to show you the truth that he hides from even his siblings, your relationship grows even closer.

Writing Masterlist 🐝 Requests Open! Tag List 🐝 @mossmosis

[dylanconrique]

me when i see comments on chenford fanvids/tiktoks like, "omg i ship them in real life too! 😍"

[jorjorlinks]

y'all i'm going insane this song is so perfectly blackbonnet i can't stop listening to it!!!! it makes me wanna cry

the first verse, i think, is very ed season 1:

i think i need you i knew you'd care when i first saw you i knew it then

i think i love you 'cause it hurts so bad, so bad, so bad oh yeah, i would die to call you my friend

and the second verse is more stede season 2:

i know you need me you know i care you speak with your eyes i can always tell

i know that i love you 'cause it hurts you too, i know, i know oh yeah, we can die for all the things we have

and then the chorus!!! omg the chorus is just them at all times:

when you are feeling down stand by my side and when i see you sometimes i get tongue tied whatever you say goes i love you now

i need someone to make an edit with this song immediately, please

[myfuturescratchbook]

For all those who are average, like me

My name is Alina (let’s assume it’s my real name for a second. The name doesn’t matter.) I live in Germany. I try to be a good person, but I am average. I am privileged. Sometimes I forget.

 I try to make the world a better place as much as my weak arms reach, but I’m not particularly good at that. For example, I’m aware of racism, but not enough to call myself an activist. My actions don’t change anything. But I try to spot my own racist thoughts and subconscious patterns, I go to demonstrations, I like and share tumblr posts and listen to podcasts. I’m average. Maybe less than that.

 My concerns are those of every privileged girl, woman now, in her mid-twenties in a first-world nation that expresses “serious concerns for the situation” in the less privileged ones while importing the product of underpaid work and child labour. I’m angry at dictators and angry at my own government that only addresses dictators if it fits into their policies.

 I am average. I have a family, a roof over my head, I’m safe. My mother’s growing old and her patience is running thin, my father’s not perfect, but I am part of a privileged family with loving parents and annoying siblings.

I worry about the climate crisis and my exams, I think about the good and evil and the clothes I need but I’m too lazy to buy. I worry about rising gas prices, but not enough, because I’ll probably be able to pay. I am average. I am boring. I am privileged.

 I woke up today. It’s an average day. For me.

 I checked my Instagram feed before I checked my WhatsApp notifications. I saw the blown-over card houses first. I saw my uncle’s messages in the group chat after that. Messages about him, his wife, his children, and my grandmother being unharmed, they came after that.

 He asked about his siblings. And their families, of course, that part is implied. He doesn’t ask about my mother, that is also implied. My mother is sleeping in, after calling in sick from work. She hasn’t checked her phone yet.

 I am average. I woke up, checked my phone, and prepared my breakfast bowl. I use blueberries for topping. I like the colours.

 My cousin is three. I don’t know if he’s ever had blueberries. They are rare over there, and very expensive. I don’t know if he ever will. His mother hasn’t answered yet.

 I am average. I worry about the amount of milk in my bowl. My throat feels dry.

 My display lights up. The spoon was halfway to my mouth. It’ll wait for another second as I forget that I am average and boring for a second.

 It’s another cousin. They say it came from Antep, from the East. She forgot to say if she is alright. If her husband and toddler are alive. I assume they are.

 Another cousin says they felt it, too. Badly. (Of course, they did. She lives closer to the epicentre. She lives more east.) I assume her baby’s alive, too.

 My cousin writes again, five minutes later. It’s still going on. No, it’s not. It’s an aftershock. One of the hundreds to come.

 My cousins, another uncle, the wife of another uncle. They spam with messages that don’t matter. The assumption that they are all fine, their families are fine, matters.

 Kahramanmaraş, Pazarcık. 7,4.

Kahramanmaraş.

The people left their homes.

We did, too.

We didn’t.

We went down, we went outside. (The first cousin, the one with a toddler. I can be sure by now they’re fine, right?)

 It’s still shaking. (No, it’s not. It’s shaking again.)

 Another cousin, almost as average as I am, -

No, wait. He is not in a privileged first-nation. His apartment isn’t as stable as mine, although his is much more probable to shake like a drunkard on a white line. He could have been one of them if he had visited his mother in his hometown. That aunt is closest to the centre.

He could have been one of them if it had happened on another, equally likely spot.

He’s not average like me, I’m sorry for my thought.

Whatever.

 He says, “Geçmiş olsun.“ It means, “I hope it becomes the past soon.” You can say it when someone’s sick. Or after they went through a bad thing. Or a horrible thing. A traumatic event. Usually, it’s cute to say it, hopefully you don’t suffer from that anymore, hopefully it’s over. Now, it’s just wrong. It’s the first dozen of a hundred.

 Another aunt writes. I heard Melisa’s house is down.

 Melisa is another relative. The daughter of my mother’s cousin. She’s got a brother and a sister closer to my age. I remember spending a lot of time with them in the summers. We used to play hide-and-seek and volleyball past midnight. Melisa’s a police officer, her sister is studying law, just like me.

 But I’m average. My sister’s house hasn’t collapsed. I don’t have any nieces and nephews, but if I had, I would not be wondering if they were alive. They’d be privileged, like me and my siblings.

 Another hour later, I learn she’s fine. Her family is fine. Someone got a hold of her on the phone.

 No. Wait. Something fell on top of one of her kids- But they are fine.

 I realize I don’t remember Melisa’s kids. I just know they caused a couple of fights among the younger cousins. If I’m not confusing the memories.

 I remember that I’m fine. I’m privileged. I am boring. I go to the mall, I have errands to run. My mind is swinging back and forth between brands of clothes and damaged buildings, my head’s calculating sales and death tolls.

 I get mad over impolite people on the train and irresponsible construction companies. My anger rises at the plastic around my bubble tea and a nation that keeps building unstable high-rise buildings on the borders that keep continental plates apart.

 Sorry. They don’t keep them apart. They are the line where they crash.

 There’s a child next to my table in a cafe, tiny curls, and candy in her hand, charming the waiters for more sweets. She understands the same language the girl with straight hair and blue eyes spoke until a couple of minutes ago.

The death toll is rising.

 I’m average. Boring. The girl with the candy probably is, too.

 I am average. I don’t understand what the death toll means. I think, so many people died. How horrible.

 Then I see a video on Instagram. The caption might have been fake. I’ll never know. The clip shows a baby, around six months old. I can’t tell if it can sit straight on its own. I see the caption. “If I knew this was the last video I took of you, I would have…”

 I continue scrolling. I don’t know if it’s because it’s so horribly sad, or if I am scrolling on autopilot.

 I blink. I have frozen on the next article, I realize. I blink again. It’s an advertisement for a sizable backpack for travellers.

 I don’t scroll back. I’m too scared to see the baby again.

 I think Instagram will assume that I care more about the backpack than the baby that –

 I read the next article about the death tolls in detail, although I know there won’t be more information than what I already have.

 There’s another wave.

 They write again. They are all safe.

My aunt sends a screenshot of a prophecy of another shake. There’s a scientific expression in the reasoning. My cousin tells her not to believe it. He says it’s fake news.

 I don’t dare to form an opinion on it. I am privileged. Even if it is true, I will have a roof over my head tonight. I will have a heater and multiple blankets, all for myself.

Even if I didn’t have, it won’t be snowing in Germany tonight. There won’t be hundreds of people freezing to death around me, some wishing for something to cover themselves with, others praying for people to uncover them.

 I am privileged.

Someone writes something about not entering any buildings yet. My sister rings the bell. She was at school.

 There’s silence for hours. In the group chat, I mean. The death tolls and news reports and clips with sad music and smiling children with bloody faces and missing reports are deafening.

 Not really. It’s silent when I turn my phone around. I am privileged, remember?

 I see a message from the wife of one of my uncles. An audio. My heart rate picks up. It’ll be good to hear her voice, maybe even that of my cousin, only a year older than my eight-year-old brother. At the same time, it scares me. Why does it have to be an audio? Is it bad?

 There is no voice in the audio at all. It’s a loud, consistent note with even breaks. I think about it. What could it be? A siren? Was the background too loud for her voice to make it into the mic? I realize I’m thinking about it like it’s a riddle to solve. I remember I am average.

 It hits me after I have already put my phone down with a frown. It’s exactly what I hear. A loud noise. She probably sent it to all her contacts, just in case someone is stuck and needs to draw attention. My fingers go cold.

 I don’t need it. If everything goes according to statistics, I never will. Hopefully, I never will.

 Hours go by. One of my aunts announces that they’ll be turning in for the night.

I wonder what that means. Are they going back inside? She has four kids. The youngest is 7. Too young to freeze to death in a car. Too young to get crushed under his own roof.

I am too shy to ask.

 My other aunt asks an unrelated question. Did you just feel the shake?

 The first one answers, the one with four kids. We don’t feel anything anymore. We’re numb.

 It could be a bad joke. It could be helplessness. It could be the cold.

 They all write.

 We felt it.

We didn’t.

 Someone asks, are you going back inside?

 Some are, some are staying in their cars.

 I’m already sitting on my bed. I’m average.

 But tonight’s not average. I’m too scared to go to bed because I’m afraid of the news of the morning. I’m too scared to let go of my phone because I am still privileged enough for my family to be alive. I haven’t lost anyone yet. I’m too scared that tomorrow will be even less average.

 I scroll on Instagram. I see posts of people calling for help, of people offering help, of people gathering donations.

 There’s a screenshot of a WhatsApp message written by an alleged medical expert.

 Be careful in your cars. Even if it is not running, there will be a small leak of carbon monoxide. If you do not open your windows every 20 minutes, you might get poisoned and die in your sleep.

Stay safe. He’s added a prayer emoji.

 I put my phone down.

 My stomach churns. I am average.

[its-me-hyunjin]

i found the cutest, sweetest, softest gifset of hyunjin smiling with this lil' black ribbon in his hair and i was trying to reblog it so i could revisit it forever cuz he just looked so goddam adorable.

BUT tumblr glitched out and deleted it and then refreshed so now i lost it. currently in a crisis bc it's going to be impossible to find it again.

[verdantvulpus]

A Pathetic Little Plea

Hello friends.

Sorry to bother you with a chunk of text but I must throw myself at your mercy.

Self-promotion is really hard. Like really really hard. Especially when you’re a Spoonie parent of a loud, rough and tumble toddler. I know I have been somewhat... lets say, ‘erratic’ ... about my posting here on tumblr in the past. 

I’m really working on that and I think I’m getting into a routine that is helping me out with that. However I still feel like I’m working against the algorithms which determine what people are allowed to see on their feeds. 

It would really help me out if, should you feel so inclined, you reblogged my work to help me increase my following. Unfortunately the ‘like’ buttons don’t seem to do much of anything. I do enjoy getting a few likes on my work, don’t get me wrong, but no one else is able to see that and it’s starting to get to the point that even people following me aren’t even seeing my posts thanks to the SOCMED gods policy of promoting solely by “engagement”.

I hate having to ask such a thing. Believe me, it does NOT feel great to have to beg for reposts, but I’m just getting started on all this and I do have silly little aspirations of maybe someday being able to make a bit of scratch on the side with my Patreon (cough cough) and maybe some merch in the future. 

As I said, Self-promotion is hard. Please please please hit that reblog button whenever you see something you like. Not just for me, but for all the artists and writers on here that you enjoy. It will mean a lot. I know it would mean a lot for me.

Thanks.

[letmetellyouaboutmyfeels]

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

[wishuponaghost]

I HATE that I can't leave kudos again, wdym "You have already left kudos here. :) " :)? :)!? So what!??? with all due respect, fuck you. I have already read this and I didn't remember until that annoying message popped up?? let me leave another kudos. it's a series I'm reading and I just loved this chapter? let me leave another kudos. this fic/chapter left me in emotional distress and with an existential crisis? let me leave another kudos. this fic/chapter has me giggling and blushing? LET. ME. LEAVE. ANOTHER. KUDOS. :)

[swantranslations]

Miyazaki's Retirement Declarations (chronologically)

Translated from last week's NHK documentary on the production of The Boy and The Heron (more under cut). I saw people posting a screencap of this and I just couldn't contain myself. THIS HAS BEEN GOING ON WAY LONGER THAN I IMAGINED LMFAO

This is from the NHK programme "Professional - Their Working Philosophy" (プロフェッショナル 仕事の流儀) a few days ago (16/12/2023). The episode investigates the production process of The Boy and the Huron, and how the late Takahata Isao influenced the movie.

(It was confirmed within the documentary that Mahito = Miyazaki, Great Uncle = Takahata Isao, The Heron = Suzuki Toshio, Kiriko = Yasuda Michiyo)

The documentary is currently available on the NHK Streaming Service (Location Limited). If you have your own ways of watching and you know Japanese, I would definitely recommend the episode as it gives a lot of much-needed context to The Boy and The Heron. Personally, I haven't found a way to watch it yet, so all I know about the documentary are hearsay I saw on Japanese twitter.

Original screencap:

Also, at the very end of the episode, Miyazaki was shown working on a Naucicaa piece without any explanation, which led to many people speculating whether he could be working on a sequel for Naucicaa of the Valley of the Wind.

What do yall think? Do you think he's going to finally retire or release yet another animated film in a few years? I would love to see Naucicaa 2 but I also feel like he really needs to... yknow, chillax a bit and stuff. He deserves a long ass vacation.

[egophiliac]

Sorry, most likely my memory being poor, but I thought Malleus' mom (don't know how to spell her name and too lazy to check how to spell it) was already an adult when Lilia ""proposed""?? Like I was always under the assumption that it was like a one-sided child crush on somebody completely out of your league you tend to have as a kid 💀

I don't think they say how old she was? although it's entirely possible I just misunderstood; my Japanese is...shaky. :') the actual line is "幼い頃に私に求婚したのは偽りか?", which I read as "isn't it true that you proposed to me as a kid?", and took as her being older than him, but not necessarily an adult (like, I was thinking of Lilia as being not quite a preteen and Mel being preteen/young teen). although I don't know if there's a connotation or something I'm missing that implies a bigger age gap, if that makes sense!

(and of course, I might also just be forgetting some other line -- if someone else knows, then please correct me! I need to know which headcanons need adjusting 👀)

BUT YEAH in a canon-y sense, Malleus is 178 and around the third-years developmentally. which makes me think that even though dragons have a way longer lifespan, they go through childhood at about the same rate as most fae (or at least the kind that Lilia is) and just kinda...slow waaaaay down once they hit adulthood. so it makes sense in my brain that he and Meleanor could've basically grown up together!

...it makes it angstier that way, anyway. :)

[navree]

"that you could be so cruel" ok correct me if i'm wrong but does penelope featherington not run a gossip rag that exist solely to publish unsubstantiated rumors about women she doesn't like for various reasons that have profoundly negative repercussions on those women (didn't the publication of marina's pregnancy lead to marina almost dying in her quest to terminate said pregnancy??????) and has in fact used that same rag to put not just colin's entire family but also specifically colin's sister, her best friend, through a significant amount of grief and strife that came as a direct result of that rag?

but colin's the cruel one? because she happened to eavesdrop on a conversation where he said he doesn't wanna date her? that's cruelty but all the other stuff isn't?

[aficionadoenthusiast]

i sincerely hope that will's casting looks as much like walker as possible so that the 'not his type' jokes finally die and everybody realizes percy isn't his type not because of hair color or any other physical attribute but simply because nico has outgrown that part of his life and has to let go of it in order to move on. like. please recognize it for the literary symbolism it is. it is important to me that y'all realize this.

[chippdhearts]

Close your eyes, I'm still beside you. No goodbyes needed today

[dismas-n-dismay]

Over and Over - Rio Romeo ur not telling me she didnt think of the first time she met falin and her beauty as she recreated her in that same image of purity and kindness, piece by piece get out of here

[deoidesign]

oouuuuuuu I love my guyyyy ohhhhh I love himmmm I love drawing him 100 million times every single day

[thekittyokat]

Hi! Please please please, could you tell me more about your coffin chain ideas?/nf

I am obsessed but barely anybody has jumped onto the ship yet and I am VERY new to the fandom so I wanna wait with making it myself until I know more lol. You are lowkey fueling this entire operations and I wanna thank you for that either way.

(rubs my paws together) you have no idea what you've unleashed anon i've been holding onto this ask specifically bc i've been sapping dopamine from it like a little leech waiting until i had time to hastily doodle up a little dynamics timeline for different stages of the ot4

i REALLY hope this makes sense . i feel the need to say this every time i post abt coffinchain but my ideas are rly specific and i've had time for them to infect my brain like mold so i'm defo ready to accept this all being rly niche and really just for me and like 3 other people

buuut if this little peek into my mind speaks to ANY of y'all i absolutely encourage implore and beg you to send me asks and ideas and whatnot about these 4 bastards literally whenever you want!!

TL;DR one half of the trauma bonded couple reaches out and forms an immediate kinship with the big scary guy that no one likes & convinces his petty boyfriend to let him fw them. then he starts bringing his deranged fbi otter around they start double-dating only for it to become a situationship and then the worst polycule ever