#idk what to write for these ahhhhhhh

[juiceofmoons]

💛🧡 milestone: just passed 1,000 followers! 🧡💛

it still doesn't feel real but thank you so soo much for enjoying my content enough to follow <3333 I made my first moodboard almost a year ago today so I find it crazy how much this blog has grown since then 🤍

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

To show my appreciation, I wanted to do something for this milestone so I have a few ideas so please request something below if you'd like 🥰

mb: dm me a skz pic and i'll make a mb! or just send me a req idm I love mbs

mb: choose a colour from the colour generator and i'll base an mb around it

gifs/gfx: make me choose (anything skz related eg mv, performance, era, album)

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

I would also like to mention the following people below who make my time in stayblr so enjoyable whether it be leaving nice comments on my posts or me being in awe of your work orrr me loving the tags you leave on rbs <33 🧡💛I also want to say that I recently made a wall of text 🤗 and I put a little activity there lmao

@15lix @acrobaticcatfeline @agibbangs @atinystraykid @babycatlix @bangzchan @blueprintchan @boba-skz @changbeens @chanstopher @chanrizard @chewysan @euphhorias @geniaparadox @haenglixie @holocenestatelines @hyunebear @hyunfected @hwan-g @j-0ne25 @jeonginny @jerirose @jinniebit @luvrli @minchanz @minzbins @nymeriaaa @shmalll @sstarryoong ⋆｡° ✮@sunnishine @sulfurcosmos @svintsandghosts @ughbehavior @zeroze @yonglixx

and also to the mb babes <33 @missyedits @snug-gyu @ggthydrangea @winterfloral I love our chats even tho I have been a bit busy atm and my timezone is a nightmare :(( but I am so glad I have met you and you're all so talented!! ✧˖°. also missy <33 my first stayblr friend <33 I can't believe it has been almost a year since we started talking ilu good luck with uni <33

also shout out to @seokmingming ⋆｡˚ ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ gunwook tunnel vision besties <33333

sorry if I have missed anyone <33 pls know I love you and I just have a bad memory with urls :((

[leyyvi]

I've been convincing myself I couldn't write because I was too busy and writing was hard because I couldn't be in the right mindset for it but I'm also starting to wonder if it's hard for me to write because I started being afraid of making shitty work and my brain said "I'd rather not put anything out at all than put anything that might not be the best writing" and now I'm sad

Like I post sketches and wipes and shitty doodles without thinking so why am I having a hard time doing the same with writing? Idk

[bikananjarrus]

officially outlining what i've been calling the resurrection fic aka the post-rebels s4 sequel fic aka the ghost crew working through all their grief fic etc etc. and oh man. when i get this written.......

[chouettecrivaine]

dead woman walking

Fandom: @shepherds-of-haven ! A little drabble of my MC who I have grown unexpectedly attached to and now she dances around in my head all of the time

Characters: Trouble/OC

Notes: 1.6k, angst, depressing introspection, the world's most OVERDRAMATIC girl has the most OVERDRAMATIC kiss

Summary: Lark has decided that the best course of action is to go on the mission alone, even if fatality is certain. She plans to leave in the middle of the night when nobody can stop her, but first there are some feelings she needs to put to rest.

Even if the trip from her room to Trouble's was familiar, Lark couldn't help but slow her steps as reticence pulled against her on every step. The magelights lining the hallway, for once, didn't seem as warm and homey as before - instead, Lark could only focus on that one spot of darkness between each fixture. It didn't matter how far the warm light stretched; the shadows always made their way to her.

She stopped just outside the door to Trouble's room, standing perfectly still and taking a deep breath. In the stillness, time didn't exist to her. Lark could pretend that she wasn't heading off to her final battle, a one-woman army marching straight into extinction. Maybe this was the battle she was created for - or maybe she was damning everyone by throwing herself away when she knew her reality couldn't be remade. Either way, the thought hollowed out her body and filled it with ice, the way she had been before. Somehow, Lark always knew she was going to die alone. At least this way, she could save anybody that she had tricked into caring for her from riding straight into the maws of death for her sake.

Lark had made peace with it, as much as she could. Her time in the Shepherds had reminded her all too well how to want to live, but blind hope wasn't something she had been able to afford for a while. This was her last stand, and she could accept that. It was bound to happen eventually in this line of work. There was just one thing she needed to do - one box left to check - before she could leave her loose ends in the hands of others.

Finally composed, Lark turned and knocked on the solid door, each in rapid succession of the last. Her heart thundered in her chest, pounding against her ribcage and rising into her throat with every beat. Her mouth went dry, though she couldn't figure out exactly why. She heard a soft shuffling on the other side of the door and forced herself to swallow, determined to keep up with her own façade. 

Trouble opened the door, more alert than Lark had expected, and gave her a friendly once-over. Despite not being bleary-eyed and half asleep, he still blinked a few times as if to make sure it was Lark in front of him. Easily, he smiled at her, unsuccessful in keeping his gaze covert as it lingered on her untied hair. During the day, Lark kept it in two braids circled around her head and pinned closely to her skull. She only ever kept her hair down when she was sleeping, and the few times Trouble had seen it, he'd been silently fascinated. Without fail, the attention would send a wave of excitement through her body, but now her apprehension was too strong for even that to shine through. Still, she smiled back at him.

"What're you doing here, Birdie?" Trouble asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. He only stood there for a moment before hurrying to make room for Lark. "Oh, I mean, you're welcome to come in. If you want."

Lark shook her head. "No, that's alright. I just needed to tell you something important."

Though he kept the mood light, Lark noticed how Trouble's face immediately softened. She noticed that when he was happy to see her - so, normally - his eyes seemed to sparkle as if the golden rings around his pupils were pure ore. Now, everything was warm seawater and honey. "Of course. You can tell me anything."

Lark's heart stopped beating, only to grow so quickly she thought it might burst out of her chest. God, she wanted to stay. An overwhelming affection flooded her senses, choking her up and forcing her feelings to well behind her eyes. Lark gripped at her nightshirt, trying to blink away the tears before they became too obvious. She thought heartbreak was supposed to be a shattering of glass as someone tossed her heart aside; maybe it could be your own heart tearing at the seams and spilling out all the love you were foolish enough to hide, too.

"Well, I have to tell you the second half later." At the end of her sentence, her voice trembled, and she covered it up with a shaky laugh. Trouble didn't seem to notice.

"Alright, then what's the first half?"

A beat of silence passed.

Then another.

Lark wasn't normally the type to be at a loss for words. She never felt comfortable unless she had a plan at hand to lie her way out of - or into - a situation. But Trouble made her honest, and the truth didn't seem survivable in that moment. Not if it was to be spoken aloud in a voice that would hurt Trouble the most.

So she stepped forward instead, brought her hands to his face, and pulled him down to her height so she could kiss him.

For a brief, terrifying second, Trouble went entirely rigid. Lark couldn't tell if he was staring at her, bewildered, or if his brow was furrowed as he tried to figure out how he got in that position. It didn't matter, because both were endearing, and neither would have stayed for long. His surprise melted away and his arms wrapped around her back, holding her close against his body. Lark almost sagged in relief.

Beneath her gentle hands, she felt his face gradually warm, certainly a few shades darker than before. In fact, she could feel his warmth all over, radiating from him and almost burning where their skin touched. In this moment, she could have anything she wanted, and she could delude herself into thinking it would last. In this moment, Lark was safe. Loved.

She wasn't ready for Trouble to pull away, yet he did. It was only an inch, and the many questions he undoubtedly had died on his tongue, but she could feel it. The ground was fracturing beneath her, and reality was swallowing her whole. Lark could only think of two things, and their certainty dug into her like claws: she loved him, and she was going to die.

So, even if it was selfish, she pressed her lips against his again, desperate and rough and scared. This kind of emotion, passionate and raw, was more up Trouble's alley. He kept her ferocity, yet held her with the care he'd give glass, like she was to be wrapped up and kept safe forever. Maybe he should've. Or maybe he should have kissed her breathless. It would have been a far kinder fate - but her fate was never meant to be kind.

Lark hoped that he could tell in the way she held his face, in the ease with which she leaned into him. If she was worth protecting, he was worth cherishing, and even if she never said it she hoped he knew. Trouble was always dense, but he had his moments. Now that she realized simply wanting him wasn't enough, had never been enough, there was nothing she could do but hope he was getting it now, and ignore her desire to stay ripping through her soul.

When they parted for a second time, neither of them said anything as they tried to catch their breath. Lark kept her lips parted, knowing that if she closed them it would be too obvious that she was trembling. Trouble didn't realize it,but even through his crimson fluster he was positively giddy. It was almost enough to convince Lark to stay.

But that was dangerous thinking. So she slowly untangled herself from him, her fingertips trailing down his shoulders and to his arms until there was nowhere left untouched. As he sorted his thoughts, Trouble's arms fell slack to his sides, a metal filament falling when the magnet attracting it moved away. Lark bit her tongue.

"So, uh…what does…this mean?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck if only for something to do. Bashfulness wasn’t something Trouble was well acquainted with, yet he couldn’t look Lark in the eyes all the same. 

“That’s the second half,” She answered quietly. “I’ll have to tell you later.”

Trouble narrowed his eyes in the way he did when he knew Lark was keeping something from him. Void of any heat or anger, it was more of a way to make her feel guilty than get her to actually admit anything. But he let it go. This was something they had been dancing around for a long time; a little while longer wouldn’t hurt.

Clearing her throat, Lark reluctantly backed away from Trouble and towards the door, keeping her eyes on him. It was difficult to swallow and even harder to breathe, yet she twisted the handle anyway. The hallway air rushed in, cold enough to send goosebumps down her arm. The moment she left this room, it’d be the beginning of the end.

Just before she turned around completely, Trouble interrupted her. Looking at him over her shoulder, Lark could tell that he was worried about her. “You can stay, if you want. You’ve done it before.”

An arrow of regret shot through her chest. “No thanks. I need some time to calm down.”

Trouble chuckled at that, muttering something small and proud about the effect he seemed to have on her. Then, lifting his head, he nodded once and let Lark take two steps backwards, his gaze undeniably fond. “I’ll collect you tomorrow, then. We can go to breakfast together.”

Lark nodded once, firmly, and put on her best, brightest smile. “I’d like that.”

It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. She would like that.

If only she’d be alive to do it.

[gothsuguru]

shiu kong has no right to be so sexy & mysterious… if you see me writing a fic about him in the future……….. just know………. that’s MY man

[acoldsovereign]

{{ Is it bad that I'm still attempting to write this drabble, because I am---

[iamunabletothinkofablogname]

How are you my child?

MULTIPLE FEELINGS BUT NONE AT ALL

on one hand im really angry about what happened to craze rambler on the other hand I got a laptop (although its old so :/) so i should be really happy but i moved schools and that means everythings new again and im back to being the '-' kid (I WAS SO HYPER AT MY OLD SCHOOL TOO SO IDK WHAT HAPPENED?) ((maybe its just me being overwhelmed idk)) and i keep getting the "BOO YOUR FEELINGS ARENT REAL AND YOUR A FAKE ROBOT PERSON WHO FAKES EVERYTHING" feeling BUT IM DOING VERY GOOD TODAY BECAUSE NOW I CAN KEEP IN CONTACT W FRIENDS MORE :DD

[verytendou]

I love janelle monae

[simplywriting420]

HELP!!! Which WIP should I work on

Please help 🙏 I wanna write but I’m torn between to worlds

[sigsfigs]

i wish everyone cared about sundrysyx as much as i doooo v_v i dont play about my sundrysyx theyre everything to me

[ahollowgrave]

So --

Her undying nature, to be frank. Mortals are suppose to die! It completes a cycle that is vital to life and the star. Odette knows she's technically (un)dead, but I don't think she's delved much further than. Because it's scary and it's unnatural and it makes her feel bad so she ignores it. Is this the right move? Probably not! But she's 21. But Pigeon, you cry, isn't she a psychopomp? How can she guide the dead while ignoring her own undead state? EASY. People do things all the time while ignoring themselves. To Odette, the work is because Menphina, her most holy and loving bride, bid her do it and not because her own death and resurrection were manufactured* to make her a beacon for souls/ghosts/spirits. I often say Odette "doesn't need" sleep, but the truth is Odette cannot sleep. She cannot fully rest. She also can barely enjoy food, clinging to sweet treats because it's something she can taste and indulge in. These get worse as she 'ages' and eventually even sweet treats will taste of nothing but ash. Dust. To me, the idea of seeking rest and being unable to obtain it is... horrifying. We know what lack of rest/sleep does to people, we know how sleep depravation is used. Odette can 'rest' in a sense, but it's never enough for her. And of course the ultimate rest that death brings is beyond her reach. Until -- Who knows! She has no idea why she's like this**, she has no idea how to fix or it even if she would want it 'fixed' right now. She is constantly at war with what she knows is "Right" and what she Wants.***

The horror of knowing your time was up a while ago and yet here you stand. Have the grains of sand frozen in their fall through the hourglass? If you look away to they resume? What happens when they begin to fall again? What if they never do. What if, on the edge of your understanding, you swear you see a grain move? Odette is very much a horror character but I've packed it all away like those snacks in bean cans. You know the ones.

*manufactured death and resurrection!? by who!? to what end!? (: **she has no idea but someone certainly does. ***'right' = she should pass on, return to the aetherial sea and take her place in Menphina's frozen heaven. But she wants to keep living, to experience the star and to know love and heartbreak, joy and sorrow. Whose to say that isn't right, either?

Because I am a little hobgoblin and I love to read about peoples' OC's, I wanted to chuck out a random WoLQotD that I didn't want to use as a single ask for my drive: What, in your opinion, is the most horrific thing about your character's story? Is it who they are and how they treat the world? Is it where they came from; the wars, political divide, state of their family, etc. Is it the magic they wield/was it an event that defined them?

I love a little horror/angst in my worldbuilding, so I want to hear yours.

[calamitouscuttlefish]

Don't mind me. I'm just gonna, "AHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

Okay, that's all. Have a nice day.

[maplesyrupsainz]

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙espresso | CL16˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader y/n (she/her) x alexandra saint mleux

genre: social media au, polyamory

warnings: polyamory, just v fluffy

summary: in which both of your partners always show up to support you no matter what <3

a/n: i have been inundated with charles related requests LOL pray for me to come out the other side alive

request!!!: Omg, we need more Charles x reader x Alexandra 😫, idk if you are still taking requests but could you please write a smau where they go to Coachella to support their singer girlfriend

my masterlist

fc: sabrina carpenter

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, taylorswift, and others

yourusername see you all at coachella next week 😉

view all comments

user1 i cant wait to see her set

user2 new era much

user3 omg alex in the second pic??

user4 my fav part abt y/n's performances is seeing her outfits tbh she's such a style icon

alexandrasaintmleux 💘 so proud of you

yourusername 🥹🥹🥹

user5 god i love them

gracieabrams so beyond excited for this!!!!

yourusername ahhhh miss you!!!

user6 who doesnt love y/n omg

user7 literally she's so perfect

charles_leclerc so beautiful

yourusername oh stop it you

user8 omg charles is hereeee

user9 whipped much

user10 yup he's so down bad for the girls 😂

twitter ->

instagram ->

ynupdates

liked by user9, user11, alexandrasaintmleux, and others

ynupdates y/n spotted after arriving in california today with her best friend, y/bff/n!

view all comments

user17 she's soo cute

user18 luv y/n & y/bff/n's friendship

user19 no charles & alex?

user20 alex in the likes as always 🥹

user21 where is charles and alexxxx

user22 i bet they'll come later coz they're probably busy and coachella isnt for another few days

user23 crossing my fingers for this

user24 lol the side eye

user25 cant wait for her set omgggg

alexandrasaintmleux 📍 monaco

liked by charles_leclerc, francisca.cgomes, and others

alexandrasaintmleux 🍒🎀 🧸���

view all comments

user26 omg cutie

user27 still in monaco?

user28 pls tell me u guys r going to coachella😭

user29 the flowers ahhh

charles_leclerc mon cœur ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux 🥹 je t'aime

yourusername such a beauty

alexandrasaintmleux imy

yourusername miss u too my sweet

user30 OKAYYY GO TO COACHELLA THENNN

user31 leave monaco immediately!

yourbff pretty girl!!

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

charles_leclerc posted a story

liked by yourusername, yourbff, and others

user32 IT'S HAPPENING

user33 YESSSSSS

user34 where are u pair going 👀

user35 FINALLY charlesalexyn is coming 🙏

pierregasly whipped 🤣

charles_leclerc no comment, weirdo

yourusername see you guys soon🥰🥰🥰🥰

liked by charles_leclerc

twitter ->

instagram ->

ynupdates

liked by yourusername, user4, user37, and others

ynupdates y/n's partners charles leclerc & alexandra saint mleux seen arriving at y/n's hotel this morning!!!

view all comments

user40 OMG

user41 YES I KNEW IT

user42 they are so gorgeous

user43 they always look so expensive

user44 never been so excited

user45 y/n in the likes too omg world's best throuple fr fr

user46 aww im so happy they came to support her

user47 SAME especially coz y/n has said in the past her exes could never rly be bothered to travel to support her performances 🥹

user48 ugh she got such a glow up with these two beauties

alexandrasaintmleux posted a story

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, and others

yourbff omg bark bark much?

alexandrasaintmleux you're telling me 🙈

user49 omg she's insanely beautiful

user50 AHHHHHHH

user51 u guys r so cute tgthr omgg

user52 supportive gf 🫶��

charles_leclerc woweeeee that's our girl

alexandrasaintmleux pinching myself !!!

charles_leclerc no don't you'll bruise your beautiful skin >:(

alexandrasaintmleux oh my bad

user53 i cant wait to see her set omgg

twitter ->

instagram ->

charles_leclerc 📍 california

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, pierregasly, and others

charles_leclerc that's that me espresso!!! or whatever

tagged: yourusername, alexandrasaintmleux

view all comments

user54 AWWWW TBIS IS SO CUTE

user55 alex looks so cool

user56 oh to be in this throuple

yourusername i love u soso much thank u for my coming my beautiful gorgeous angel

alexandrasaintmleux are you still drunk? 🥰

charles_leclerc no she just loves me.

yourusername yes to both

user57 THISIS SO CUTE LOL

user58 "beautiful gorgeous angel" well true

user59 y/n is getting so successful🥹🥹🥹

user60 ijbol at the caption

user61 "or whatever" 💀

carlossainz55 where the hell was my invite

pierregasly same bro

landonorris mine too. im devastated

charles_leclerc it's a public event.

yourusername 😂😂

landonorris WE WANTED TO COME

alexandrasaintmleux welp. that's that me espresso i guess!!! 😋

user62 everyone is whipped for y/n tbh as they should be coz me too fr

user63 IM WORKING LATEEEE COZ IM A SINGERRR

liked by charles_leclerc

twitter ->

instagram ->

alexandrasaintmleux 📍 california

liked by francisca.cgomes, carlossainz55, and others

alexandrasaintmleux my ... are on vacation

tagged: yourusername, charles_leclerc

view all comments

landonorris rubbing it in much

alexandrasaintmleux read the caption again

user67 ate him up

user68 not the ferrari hat at coachella LOL

user69 she's so real for this

user70 loyal & supportive queen always

user71 la ❤️ u back

liked by alexandrasaintmleux

yourusername I LOVE YOU

alexandrasaintmleux I LOVE YOU MORE

user72 me when 😭

user73 I WISH I WAS THEREEE

user74 i love how supportive she is of both of them 🥹

user75 fr and u can tell she's gen having fun not jus doing it coz she "has" to

user76 oh charles leclerc y/n y/l/n alexandra saint mleux u will always be famous

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername, charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc les femmes de mon cœur ❤️

THE END ❤️

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 5 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the second year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning traditions 

warnings (TW): swearing, gambling, illegal activities, illusions of past abuse 

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining

notes: canonically no one knows anything about shermie really, which would be hilarious if I didn’t have to write about it \\ also i feel like there not too much fluff in this (could be really fucking wrong lol) but the next part i have drafted is sickingly sweet so just give me some time 

Also (again) i’ll begin linking a legit masterlist below with all the parts! I thought of renaming each era but the naming part of things is where im legit the leassst creative for some reason? maybe later idk? but anyway! so much love from everyone! thank you so much! you don’t know how much i appreciate the love and the comments, thats why i continue writing this ahhhhhhh! thank you!!!

word count: 4.4k 

| masterlist | part vi |

March, 1984 

It had taken her several months to come to terms with what had to be done for the sake of their identities. 

He had been more open with her concerning his past in that one two-hour conversation than he had in the past year in its entirety. Something that would shake a normal woman, but she had become so oddly attached to her new partner she almost didn’t care about the picture he painted of what he used to be - something he insisted he still was. Bad. He had said to her that night. That he wasn’t any good. 

The painting only flooded with more color, in those following months after said heart-to-heart. His conversation with his mother spoke of it. It also spoke of a man who truly honestly couldn’t be the picture he had painted. 

It’s something they had both tiptoed around, conversations of their parentage. Of course, because of Ford, she knew that they grew up in the typical American nuclear family home, with a mother who lingered in doorways and a father who raised his hands as frequently as his voice. But she didn’t know how intertwined Stanley had been with his mother in particular. 

Which was hard, considering he was now legally dead. 

That first frantic conversation they had had over the phone had shaken him, had him reconsidering. But watching Doc’ wait in anticipation and disbelief in the next room over quickly made him change his mind. It was so they would be safe, he reasoned. 

His mother had called believing she was calling Ford after she received the shattering news that her baby boy was presumed to be dead. Baby being used here loosely, seeing as Ford was only truly older by a mere fifteen minutes. 

His mother hadn’t been shocked Ford hadn’t contacted her in that past year, something he had shook off every time he passed the landline. He thought to call her. But she was quite hung up on not having heard from Stanley that past year, insisting in her ways that surely he would have called, her free-spirited boy was always much more inclined to call her, something she had never blamed Stanford for of course. Just a flippant difference between her two boys. One called and the other lingered in doorways, like her. 

Stanley had reasoned with her over the landline. Insisting that he, unfortunately, would not be able to make it to his own brother's funeral, something she had tisked at, raising her voice to who she assumed was Stanford. This is your brother! She had insisted. You loved your brother, don’t say you didn’t. Everyone makes mistakes, you need to forgive him now. 

It was not until after the event that she called again, telling him not to worry. That she had attended for him, but that his father was just as busy as him. Something unspoken between them, just as stubborn. She had meant to say. Just as ignorant. 

His mother spoke with him in a different tone over the phone, a difference in how she held cadence when she was talking to Stanford rather than Stanley, something he wondered if Poindexter ever noticed. 

His Doc’ knew the conversations drained an odd part of him, so she did her best to work around him when his mother did ring their landline. Something she did semi-frequently now that Stanley was officially dead. 

In the beginning, she had lingered in the next room, then drifted through doorways, and eventually made it until she sat at the kitchen table with him, playing with his fingers in hopes of baiting him away from the phone. If the conversation was shorter then surely he wouldn’t have to pretend to be someone he wasn’t for too long. 

She later realized this was a mistake, no matter how his impression of his brother gnawed at an odd part of her psyche. So she moved from him, doing dishes and cooking. But still oddly near him. 

It was easier to lean into domesticity when she played it so well around him, and it made the phone calls less nerve-wracking to take. Pretending his wife was doting on him, that his long-distance mother was calling to check in, and pretending he wasn’t a fraud and a failure. So he usually insisted on her presence. And he pretended that she played a role in it all and that his mother didn’t sound different over the phone. One big lie to make him breathe better. 

It’s after one of these phone calls that he slumps deep in his kitchen seat one day, and she turns from the dishes in the sink to ask what’s wrong. 

“We’re gonna have to tell her one day.” 

“What?” 

“That we’re married, doll.” He crossed his arms, a contemplative look overtaking him. The first time he’d said the word since that conversation in the car. “I don’t know how long until we have ta’, but I know we gotta.” 

“Okay.” She hums, hands still sudsy from the sink. “Is there any other family we may have to tell?” 

“My older brother, Shermie. But he’s in Cali not Jersey like my ma.” He hums. “Older than me, don’t know him as well. But he is closer.” 

“And will he be able to tell?” She asks. “That you’re not Stanford?” 

“Nah.” He sighs. “He’s got a wife though, and a kid from what I remember. A baby girl, probably about ten now.” 

“Oh my god, so you’re an uncle?” She laughs, a smile splitting her face once more. 

“Ya doll, have been since I was 18. Remember meeting her, but pretty soon after I hit the road.” 

He had been fond of her, from what he could remember. The baby girl had rarely left the crook of his doting mother’s arms, but when it came to be his turn to hold her he enjoyed the warmth and weight of her. And her gummy smile at his continued insistence. He still remembers her tiny hands, fisted around one of his fingers. She had been small, smaller than he had imagined babies could be. He bet she was still small, it felt hard to imagine her as more than a swaddle in the swell of his arms now. 

Silence breaks between them again. “Well for what it’s worth I think you’d be a great uncle, if you could have been closer to her that is.” She hums, moving back to the sink to wash some more dishes. Her hair curved around her soft face, beautiful in her usual careless way.

Maybe he would have been. 

June, 1984

They had started a tradition in their home. A young tradition, but she figured it still was one since they had promised to go about their day the same way as they had the previous year. Except this time they had thought to prepare. 

The town they resided in was odd for sure and had an affinity for the unexplained and perhaps more creepy pursuits. The town had a tradition of its own in which they held a Halloween event twice a year, Summerween they called it. 

Not that they had known of it their first year residing in the shack, but it was quite the surprise to open the door to trick-or-treaters in mid-June. The children had unknowingly interrupted Stan's attempt to teach her how to play poker. Unfortunately for the children, they didn’t have any candy on hand for them that year. Without anything to give them, the kids retaliated by tee-peeing their yard that same night. 

She had found it only slightly annoying, having to clean it up the next morning. But it quickly fell into amusement, watching Stan stomp and curse while pulling toilet paper from bushes and trees. He didn’t enjoy a prank that was not his own. And he wouldn’t be caught unaware the next year. 

Which was why they had wandered around town that last week, looking for supplies to decorate their porch and getting last-minute off-brand candy. She had scoffed at the shitty candy they had bought but figured it was more or less all they could afford. She had eyed up the bigger bags of nicer candy, chocolate had always been a weakness of hers. 

Stan had also bought what he called “Scary Stan” supplies. Silly string, odd meats, and fake blood found its way into their shopping cart. Along with supplies for caramel apples upon her insistence. 

They had made a night of it, decorating their porch with fake spider webs and the town's traditional carved watermelon jack-o-lanterns. She had gone ahead in making caramel apples also, bagging them up as she went for the children. Perhaps it would make up for the shitty candy. 

In keeping with tradition, Stan thought to continue their poker night as they had been doing the previous Summerween. So their night was spent in an identical fashion almost, with detailed explanations of correct poker etiquette from Stan with interrupted rushing to and from the door to give awaiting kids off-brand chocolate and homemade caramel apples. Except they sat across from each other in costume now. She had been amused when he had insisted on them being matching, he had flushed in embarrassment in the store that week, pleading his case after his initial insistence. Like it was only natural that they would match. She barely fought it, something odd aching in her chest at his rather sweet insistence.

“Come on! It’s a good idea!” 

“What are we Stan, twelve?” 

“No, we're married. Just as embarrassing.” He had said flippantly, his ears red in a flush as he shoved two capes into the shopping cart along with everything else. 

Which is how they ended up here tonight, sitting across from each other in the dim kitchen light, both dressed as a gaudy vampire couple while Stan explained for the fourth time the probability of getting a royal flush. Her feet propped up on his lap, like always. He had bent down to grab them, folding them into the curve of him. 

He had tried not to stare too long when she came down the stairs earlier, her matching velvet red cape and shitty plastic vampire teeth sat oddly in her mouth. But it was one of the first times she had done her makeup like that, all dark and creased around her enchanting eyes. And the first time he had ever seen that black shirt, which had a surprisingly low cut. All the more distracting. 

This is why he was stumbling through explaining what a royal flush was for the fourth time, and probably why she was looking all confused at him like that also. 

“Okay doll, let’s run through this a couple of times, then we’ll put in some real steaks here.” 

“Stan we are dead broke we are not gambling money tonight. You’d rob me blind!” 

“Shush!” He insisted, smiling across from her. “Just a couple rounds, I’ll show you some good hands and we’ll go from there, okay?” 

They were interrupted interspersedly from time to time during their practice rounds, Stan usually being the one to race out to the porch first, in hopes of scaring whatever little kid dared knock on their porch door. 

Of course, if the child was too young he’d call for her. She had put up a fight with him about scaring kids that were younger than ten tonight. Which he had been glum about until he watched her with them. 

She’d gush at the doorway, complimenting costumes and handing out her caramel apples she had slaved away over. She had this certain smile too, and silently in the back of his mind he thanked any little kid who knocked on their door that night because she looked particularly enchanting when she was kneeling down talking to them. Like she was always meant to be doing that. 

Anyone over ten was free for the taking though, and he took particular pride in scaring any poor sap who was old enough in her eyes. The fake blood in particular came in handy, and she would laugh when he’d routinely come back from the porch door slathered in it. She silently thanked those kids tonight, because he seemed to be particularly enchanting when he laughed like that. Like he was always meant to be this carefree. 

The poker games practice rounds were over though. And he had a particular surprise just for her. 

“Ta-Da!” He said, while pulling out a bag of candy from the very top cabinet she could never reach in the kitchen. 

“Oh my god, is that chocolate!” She gasped again, reaching for the bag. “Name-brand chocolate! Awe, you shouldn’t have Stan.” She encased it in her arms, hugging it like a stuffy. It was the bag she had been eyeing up in the grocery store not even a week ago.

“Ah-ah!” He moved to grab the bag back. “This is what we are betting with tonight, doll.” Candy back in his hands, he moved back to his seat. Opening the bag to evenly disperse the individually wrapped candy between the two of them. 

“How’d you even get that bag, Stan, we can barely afford everything else we bought.” 

“You don’t wanna know, hun.” He said, shuffling her candy pile in front of her. Okay, so he had stolen it, so what? He hadn’t called her “hun” in a while though. Distracting. 

He almost never called her that sickeningly sweet name now, something she thought about far too often for her good. She missed that term of endearment in particular for some reason. But perhaps Stan found it to be too domestic, too personal for what both resided between them now. Perhaps it reminded him of her mistake, of her tying herself to him for the foreseeable future. Her heart did something odd though, when he would call her that. She usually made note of it when he did call her “hun” now. Because it was so rare to hear it, and she hesitated to ask why. It would slip out of him in odd moments, moments he would catch himself unaware and relaxed around her. But it always made him flush now, too. 

The game followed similarly, his flushing smirk distracting her from her hand on more than one occasion. He was so charmingly confident when he was playing games, so competitive. She tried to shake it off, the way he looked like this. She wanted to play with him, too. 

“You’re full of shit doll.” 

“No!” She gasps, suddenly a good actress. “My hand is just that good bucko! I raised it by too cluster bars, are you gonna meet or fold sir?” She hummed, smiling at him over her hand of cards. 

This was probably the only time she was damn good at lying, he conceded. She liked to play it up, waving her hands and laughing everything off. She was pretty good at playing off a hand that had absolutely nothing in it. But he had memorized her tell long ago, memorized her face just the same. She looked the same every night, teasing him across this kitchen table over dinner. Her brow upturned just a little, her cheeks flushed. That was the look, her look. She had nothing in her hand. 

But he was wiping the floor with her. 

He hums, hand over his lips. “I guess I fold then.” He sets his cards down, pushing his stack of candy back towards her.  

“Yes!” She jumps up, reaching across to swipe his candy into her pile. An elated smile on her face as she dances in her seat. The kitchen light making shadows on her face, the sun having finally gone down to alleviate some of the June heat. She stops mid-dance, a realization blooming over her face. “Wait a minute.” 

“Hmmmm?” He says, munching on one of his candies. 

“I know for a fact you can count cards, Stan!” Her finger pointed accusingly at her. “That’s why they won’t let you back in Nashville. You should legitimately win every round, and I know that for a fact!” 

He leans back in his kitchen chair, laughing in his low gravelly voice. “Perhaps?” He questions, hands held up in guilt. 

“Gahh!” She yells, reaching across the table and the stacks of candy to throw a fist at his shoulder. “I’ll get you for real one day.” 

“You’re smart hun, I know you will.” That flush across his face. 

“You’re smart too though.” She says, stating what she knows to be true. He is smart, he proves it to her every day. He just would never actually take the compliment, something he figured was a lie. He’d never been called smart in his life before her. He’d let her lie about this one thing though. His head hung off the back of his chair. His Doc’ was a terrible liar, though. 

“Nah!” He says flippantly, hand waving away her truth. “Let’s watch a movie!” Jumping from his seat, scooping up her pile and his pile of chocolates, and racing to the T.V. They’d play again the next year, and he’d let her win again in hopes it would make her just as happy as she just was. And maybe then she’d believed she’d won and he’d believe he was smart enough to be out-witted by the likes of her. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” She inquires, head popping back into the living room. 

“No no, come here!” Waving her in, so she can plop down next to him on the floor. Candy piled high in between the both of them. A mischievous grin sneaks up on his face, hand already reaching for the movie she’d hate. She was terrified of zombies, for some reason. Something he takes advantage of routinely. Anything to have her curled up next to him, her heat seeping into his side as his hand made a home on the back of her neck. Like usual, like always. Something that still made him feel sickly sweet, her flippant affection for him. It must be nothing for her, to be this close to him.

“Scary movie?” 

She nods, mouth full of chocolate and shirt dangerously low. Her cape piled around her, and her eyes dark as she grins at him. Distracting. 

October, 1984

They had hit a metaphorical dead end when it came to the portal. Something they both feared voicing between the two of them. 

It was hard, almost impossible, to reverse engineer the plans drawn out in the one journal they had on hand. She knew there had to be two more out there, hidden in the woods. A homage to the three corners of the portal that she stared at day in and out. Stanford was like that in a way, flippantly sentimental about the oddest thing. 

Her old friend more than likely buried the other two journals somewhere on the property. Unfortunately for them both they did not know where the property line began and ended, but she more or less figured it was a lot of land to cover. Stan had backed up this claim, explaining to her that first night that Stanford had wanted him to take this first journal, take it with him to the ends of the earth. In hopes that the portal his brother had created couldn’t be replicated. Something they had both dared to do now and something they did not discuss in great lengths either. 

He had put them away in his haste, she figured. He was never one to half-ass anything really, but with the way Stan had described his brother that night he disappeared into the portal, she figured he was not necessarily himself. Not himself, actually at all. She had contemplated it a lot, the fear of otherworldly possession. But had a hard time believing Stanford would let anything into something as sacred as he believed his mind to be. He didn’t even let her up there. 

But the way he described his odd relationship with an entity that happened to be a shape was… distracting. It constantly had her flipping back and forth in the journal, looking for clues as to what Ford was doing in relation to an otherworldly being. He couldn’t help his own curiosity she figured, something she had never blamed him for except for now. Something she cursed him for, now. 

So they had both agreed to move in silence when it came to passing into the tree line of the property. She had more than hinted at their need for caution in communicating with whatever the hell Ford had previously encountered. Stan and Ford both considered themselves adventurers in their own right, which would be admirable if one of them wasn't missing from their current plane of existence. 

They had headed out together one October day, bundled up, and hoping to find signs of Ford on their property line. Hoping to find one of the journals, and nothing else. 

His red coat with a new patch was swung over his shoulders, as she had whined in the doorway that morning. She much preferred his things to her own nowadays. Much preferred to be swallowed by his shirts and jackets, not that he would ever comment. There was just more warmth to his things than her own now, and she preferred the imprint he left on the couch to her own in these colder months. Stealing his spot when he would up and leave for a new drink, laughing when he would come back to claim it. Stealing that imprint of him was her only joy, because it made him laugh and flush differently when she got close now. The closest he had allowed in months, the imprints and loose shirts he’d leave behind. Made something behind her chest ache thinking about it.

Felt slightly disjointed in their trek through the forest now, the thought of the unknown just beyond them both. And no warmth of his jacket to cool the part of her that achingly worried for him now.

But of course, they both had weighed the probability of them encountering some creatures that Ford had sighted in his journal, but she feared encountering something that was not listed in the specific one they had in their possession. Something out in the borders of their home, that they had no knowledge of. 

He was swearing with every step through the underbrush ahead of her, his hand held behind him in case she would need it when trekking through the uneven forest floor. His head held down as he stomped a path into the fallen leaves for her. Her head held up, looking for signs of their long-gone friend somewhere between the trees. 

“Fuck!” She swears, tripping over fallen branches. He reaches back, catching her with the length of his outstretched arm. The first time he had reached for her since he bent to fold her legs across his lap this morning. He felt far away. He was flushed though, worked up with the long trek they both had made. Some odd miles between them and their home now. 

He grunts, lifting her back to her feet with ease. Moving to wipe dead leaves and twigs from her hiking pants unconsciously.

“Should we map this out doll?” 

“Mhm.” She nods, as he reaches back into their shared backpack he had been carrying. Taking out a property map and a compass. He had thought to bring the map, commenting on how they could mark down when they would see odd things throughout the forest, and so they could track where they had already been. She had thought to bring the compass, simply to find their way home. 

She looks down at the unfolded map now held up in his hands, stepping to bend down under his arm, residing in front of his expansive chest and between his outstretched arms. He was warm, she noted, a part of her cooling. 

“Sooooo… I think I saw something around here.” She moved her pencil up, marking along their predetermined path where she thought she had seen tree carvings. She took a step back, running into his chest. Trying to get closer to him, before he would inevitably leave. “I believe we are about 1.5 to 2 miles out from the shack?” She questions, tilting her head back to look at him. 

He grunts, flushed by her proximity. Her back to his chest, he noted how warm she was when she was this close. Her eyes shining up at him in question. She shouldn’t be this close. 

“Mmm, feels like we’ve been walkin’ longer than that.” 

“You may be right.” She hums, her pencil held in her mouth now. “Should we retrace our steps? Get a better estimate? And look at that carving I saw?” 

“Whatever you say, boss.” He grunts, trying to move his eyes away from her. 

“Alright!” She steps back from him, suddenly cold. Ducking beneath his arm and stepping away from him as he begins to fold back up the map. She’d savor whatever he allowed. “Then we’ll be home in time for lunch.” She comments. 

“Can we have those fancy deli sammiches?” 

“Mmmm, sounds good to me.” She shrugs, letting him lead the way back to their home. Trying to find oddities in the tree line, but getting distracted by his shoulders the entirety of the way home. Missing that imprint of him along her back already.

[etheries1015]

Dear writer whose writings I love,

HEYYO. IT'S ME AGAIN. (I sent the Lilia using u as a stress relief you ask heheheha!!)

SO LIKE IMAGINE THIS (unrequited love that is actually requited love!)

You're on a "date" with Lilia to the gardens. (You wish)

And then you get to the Gardina section of the flowers and show it to him, knowing fully of what it means. (You hope, yet also don't hope he gets what's you're trying to say)

[FUN FACT: Gardenias are elegant and fragrant flowers that have long been associated with love, romance, and admiration. They are often used to express a secret or hidden love, as their sweet scent and delicate petals can be seen as a symbol of devotion and affection that is not openly expressed. The gardenia’s white or pale yellow petals are said to represent the purity and sincerity of a love that is kept hidden, while the intoxicating fragrance symbolizes the passion and intensity of the feelings that are being concealed. Gardenias are also often associated with mystery and secrecy, making them the perfect flower to symbolize a love that is kept hidden from the rest of the world. They have been used in literature and poetry for centuries to represent the hidden desires and passions of characters who cannot express their feelings openly]

SO

SSSOOOOOOO

This can go SO. MANY. WAYS.

He doesn't know and does nothing. This ends up in you making a poem about Gardina flowers to him, and he does something after that, taking the hint. (Good ending! With proposal and stuff and hehe fluff!! I love fluff)

He knows and asks you directly. (PLS GIVE THIS A GOOD ENDING. IDK HOW TO CONTINUE)

My brain is now fried again. Please expand. I will request every time my brain power suddenly shoots up. Goodbye, and see you again next time.

-🦇

Hello lovely! Yes yes, you actually revealed yourself to me after I answered that ask! Heuheu. No need to be anon! However, if that it what you prefer, I shall not convince you otherwise <3

ANYWAYS I have ALWAYS loved the notion of flowers having meanings and their beautiful poems that come in toe with their vibrant petals. It's truly a wonderful thing, I really wanna study them more. Fun fact! My favorite flower is a peony! I have a tattoo on my shoulder of a peony! ...in slue with an entire sleeve of random flowers, my tattoo artist just made up. Maybe the other arm I'll use for more structural floral... sorry for the tangent DHKFJSLDjf I love flowers. Thank you for this ask heuehueheue

Ahhhhhhh the idea of going out to a garden with Lilia...

I actually like to have this little headcannon that since Malleus is so interested in flowers and gardening, that perhaps he got that from Lilia. Flowers are our friends, after all! And what's better than making an entire garden of little friends to nourish? Along with creating a beautiful garden of roses, Malleus had delved deep into the world of floral poetry and representation.

You grab onto Lilias hand and pull him towards the back of ramshackle to show off the garden you and Malleus had placed together. Malleus was truly your wing man during this entire thing, he had vast knowledge about flowers and knew just the ones to plant In one large romantic gesture for the old fae. Malleus had landed you books and helped you study their different meanings, even taking time out of gargoyle studies club to dedicate gardening your surprise for Lilia.

"What has gotten you so eager, little bat?" Lilia chuckled, "Must truly be grand if you're so worked up like this!" You couldn't hide your excitement or giddiness as you headed towards the gate leading to the garden, a large black intricately designed gate in that perfectly suited the chicness of the dorm. Upon opening the gates, it revealed a large grandiose garden full of flowers of all sorts. Lilia's eyes widened as well as a toothy grin climbing onto his features, raising an impressed eyebrow.

"So this is what you and Malleus have been working so hard on?" He inquired, stepping forward and taking a look around, "I must say, it's rather an impressive feat! The sheer size is almost enough to rival Malleus's own rose garden back at the castle." You smiled brightly at him and skipped over to a particular patch you were proud of; Gardenias.

"These are Gardenias!" You pursed your lips as you bent over and grabbed something you had prepped before hand, taking hold of a neatly wrapped bouquet of gardenias and with a trembling hand pushing them in the arms of the fae. Lilia started slightly and took a gentle sniff of the flowers taking in their creamy sweet scent that reminded him of coconuts and peach. "They...they're for you!" You smiled.

"Oh they're lovely," Lilia said, "I presume you and Malleus are particularly proud of these ones! They bloomed wonderfully. I shall put them in my room!...oh, but I suppose they will need sunlight. Perhaps keeping them in Silvers care may be better..." You felt your heart drop and smile twitch ever so slightly. Pursing your lips you let out a dry nervous chuckle, tilting your head in awkwardness.

"I..Uh," You bit down your bottom lip, "Well, they were for you," You let out a breathy laugh.

"Of course! However I'm worried they may wilt in my care and you worked so hard! Hmm. Oh! I could put them in the lounge, so that everyone can see yours and Malleus's hard work!" You couldn't even bother to explain to him you were the one to nurture these flowers on your own upon Malleu's recommendation. He swore that Lilia would understand the meaning...it was common for fae folk to be knowledgeable on the world of flowers. Either Malleus Lied to you, which was unlikely, or Lilia was a part of the percentage that truly hadn't a clue.

You began to sweat bullets. Throughout this entire exchange, you weren't certain he understood your intentions. Or... was he purposefully deflecting the fact you had mainly meant this as a surprise for him? Was he thinking you were simply making excuses to hang out with Malleus? Or was he just that oblivious? It was rather distressing, for you already had an inkling that Lilia had not returned your feelings, and this only solidified your worries.

You began to wilt like a flower without water, your energy dying and your smiles becoming fake. You tried a few more times to hand him flowers, such as a singular rose (symbolizing love at first sight, a "one and only" in which the person you gift you give your heart to.) He insisted on taking a few more to decorate the lounge with.

This plan was failing terribly.

Finally, you let out a loud groan of frustration, pulling out a sheet of paper from your pocket with a burst of confidence and embarrassment. Your face took on a bright shade of red, pushing the letter into his chest. Lilia struggled to catch it with his hands full of flowers, eyes wide in bewilderment at this sudden display you put on. He stared in shock and confusion, unable to get a word out before you bolted out of the garden and to the dorm.

"Read that later!" You cried out.

"W-wait- what is-" He attempted to catch your attention, yet you were already out of view, leaving the fae utterly confused standing in the middle of the garden with arms full of flowers.

You threw yourself onto your bed and grasped your pillow, curling into a ball and groaning into it.

"eh? What's up with you?" Grim asked, "And what's this piece of paper?"

You sat up in a rush with wide eyes, staring at a piece of paper that you seemingly dropped from your person. You grabbed hold of it and took a look. It was the second page of the letter you had given Lilia... and undeniably the most important part. The first page detailed the history of flowers and how they have significance to them

the second page was the meanings of the flowers and why you chose them for the fae.

It was your confession.

You had forgotten to hand it to him in your flustered state.

You screamed into the pillow.

~ At Diasomnia ~

Lilia sat in the dorm lounge, reading over the page you had given him.

"Hmm...I knew flowers had meanings, but this letter seems unfinished. This is simply prefacing the history of flowers and that they hold meaning with a simple poem at the end, but the definitions they mentioned would be on the second page seem to be missing..." Lilia rubbed his head in confusion turning the paper around to find some sort of indication of continuation, Malleus walking in on the fae. Malleus flashed a mischievous smile.

"How did the visit to the garden go?" He inquired, "You seem confused rather than elated as I thought you would be..did something go ary?" He pointed out. Lilia shrugged and looked back at the tall draconic fae, tilting his head.

"I thought it was going well, (y/n) even handed me a bunch of flowers to bring back, along with this letter..." Lilia took a gander at the vase full of Gardenias and glanced back down at the letter in which stated every flower has a significant meaning.

"Malleus, could you tell me what Gardenias mean? I believe (y/n) meant to explain it to me, but the second half of this letter is missing." Malleus raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you would know?" Malleus furrowed his eyebrows, grabbing hold of the letter and skimming through its contents.

"Of course not. I like flowers of course, but I never took the time to truly study them as you did. I haven't a clue about definitions and things of the sort." The color seemed to drain from Malleus's face at realizing his mistake, before making his way to the gardenias and gently touching a petal from its bloom. He took a deep breath before giving a detailed explanation of their meaning: Passion, love romance, secrecy... Malleus explained the flower was to express a secret love that the prefect held for Lilia. Something that clearly went way over the old man's head.

Lilias's jaw was dropped to the ground, before quickly disappearing in a fog of green smoke.

He had to get the other half of that letter.

[v1trum]

AHHHHHHH THANK YOU GUYS SM FOR TAGGING ME HSHDJSHDKDHSKSJS

( @thedreamyfragments @acearcane @ashes-and-starlight @island-ofthelost )

Hmmm okay!

My hair ! I like my hair lmao

I THINK im a little funny idk dont quote me when i make a terrible joke

I like my knowledge on cats and dogs. Mainly cats. As a cat foster ik SO MUCH its crazy and i like it. I have an irl that i barely talk to but his friend found kittens and he texted me for info, and my friend who is way older than me asked for a list of things to buy/stuff to do when her cat got pregnant 😭 i like being able to "erm akshually" about cats its fun

Idk how to explain this. But. I like how much i love my interests?? Like that doesn't make sense but i love how much i love my blorbos LMAO

I like my creativity and not like. Drawing. Even tho i draw a lot im pretty bad at it what i like is the ideas of drawings i come up with, or like with writing and stuff. Same goes for organizing stuff im really good at rearranging stuff and finding places for things to go. Might be a very normal thing but i still love it

Ppl im tagging!! @st4rshipr4nger @mr-cleans-last-hair-follicle @fivephobic @stiles-stilinski-luvr @sweetbabythrills :3333