#if you don't like this though or would like a different muse of mine or something please feel free to tell me! I can write you up sth else

[calliopesdiary]

MANIAC

the one where you don't go back to the boys.

part two of the conan gray series

“i wish i were heather” out now!

synopsis: after getting cheated on by your previously expected soulmates, a change in perspective occurs and you find yourself falling for a different set of three.

warnings: foul language, slander on the marauders, sexual innuendos, mentions of smoking, a small taylor

"PEOPLE LIKE YOU ALWAYS WANT BACK WHAT THEY CAN'T HAVE."

Leaving Hogwarts early for Christmas this year was not something anyone could've forshadowed.

You, the girl who spent most of her time studying for her upcoming OWLS in November, had disappeared without a trace.

Of course most of your close friends knew where you were, and some not so close friends did aswell.

"She can't just run away from her problems." Said Sirius, his leg bouncing anxiously from the news Regulus had just sprung onto them.

"Sirius, It'll be fine, okay? When they get back to school, we can formally apologize and move on, right?" Remus attempted to reassure Sirius, but he in reality he felt quite crestfallen.

Lily sat quietly, already regretting her decision to do this with them.

In her head, she knew they had every intention to not cheat and solve things the right way— but she hadn’t helped.

It all started one night at a loud and ear-shattering Gryffindor victory party after a successful win for their Quidditch team.

She got drunk, and they were completely wasted.

And you weren’t there.

So their drunken minds believed it would be a missed opportunity if they didn’t take their chance with Gryffindors golden girl.

Lily knew she should’ve said no, she should’ve gone back to her dorm and hid from them for the rest of eternity.

But fate clearly had other plans.

And after secrets, longing stares, and lingering touches that the truth finally came to light.

and it was all at your expense.

“So— When will our Reggie be joining us, Meadowes?” Evan slurred, his voice carrying a heavily intoxicated tone.

“Soon enough, he’s got one more OWL to complete and then he’s on his way.” Dorcas mused as she gently pet the head of her tipsy sleepy Gryffindor girlfriends head as she babbled on about Quidditch.

Evan nodded drunkenly— before taking another swig.

Dorcas seemed so peaceful with Marlene— who had surprisingly accepted her invitation to spend Christmas with the Slytherins, though Marlene truly wasn’t prejudice against them like others were.

They seemed so… in love.

You had love once.

Remember?

They’re gone.

Remember?

They’re gone.

“I— I had love… once—“ You hiccuped sadly, beginning to sob for the umpteenth time this evening.

You were extremely drunk, who could really blame you?

“Aww… Treasure…” Barty (who surprisingly was very sober) cooed, encapsulating you in a bear hug as you cried into his chest.

“How many more times is she going to do that?” Asked Peter, who— by the way: lied to his friends and said he was going home for Christmas.

He was only visiting for the night, as he was currently visiting his girlfriend— Sybil Trelawney who lived in town.

“Who knows, Pete. Who knows..” Evan slung his arm around him.

“This should be the last time before she realizes that she doesn’t need them, that’s what the sprites are telling me.” Pandora smiled, petting your hair gently in comfort.

“Pettigrew, you should turn back to your rat-pack and tell them they’re trash.”

You spat, in broken sighs.

Obviously, Peter felt a bit of offense to the rat slander but alas— they weren’t aware of his rat-secret.

Quite a shame.

“Sure thing, L/N.”

'FEELS LIKE WE HAD MATCHING WOUNDS BUT MINES STILL BLACK AND BRUISED.'

on December 19th, Regulus had finally arrived at Barty's flat he'd rented for the holidays.

Marlene, Dorcas, and Peter had their departure just the day before, leaving just you, Pandora, Evan, Barty, and Regulus.

Pandora had just wished you all goodnights and dream blessings before nodding off to your shared room for your stay.

"So, anyone up for some firewhiskey?" Offered Evan, who held a giant bottle of the substance.

"Just a small bit, Rosie." Barty accepted his offer graciously.

"Need anything, amour?" Regulus mused in your ear, by far he was the most comforting one. As the other two just distracted you with their own twisted ways of thinking and chaos.

"I'm alright, Reggie. Thank you." You nodded politely, you had felt incredibly off this break.

Though they all weren't stupid, they knew why you were acting strange.

Every year since third year; You and the boys would leave Hogwarts and spend Christmas with the Potters.

Snowball fights, roaring fires, Effie's hot cocoa, the memories echoed through your brain like they were music blasting from your headphones.

Every time you closed your eyes to sleep, you would see endless slideshows of everything you had ever done with them.

The nights of passion, the hugs, the pre and post-quidditch game good luck and good job kisses, the play fights, the happiness.

Your life was black and white before you met them, they brought the color.

But they showed you colors they knew you couldn't see with anyone else.

Well, besides your 'best' friends.

Were you really just that? Just friends?

You were a year younger than the Marauders, same year as Regulus.

and Sirius would be so pissed off if he found out that you were sleeping with his brother-

...

Wait.

Who gives a fuck about Sirius?

Who cares what intelligent insult will come out of Remus' mouth?

And James, he liked Regulus once.

They'd hate you.

But,

Maybe you wanted them too.

So, you ended up taking a few shots of firewhiskey.

Okay,

More than a few.

"Um- actually, Reggie. I- I do need something." You slurred, holding onto your sober ex-boyfriends brother best friends nimble shoulders like he was your lifeline.

"Yes, amour?"

"I want a kiss."

Evan spat out his drink back into his cup, and Regulus' face heated up significantly.

"I'll give you a kiss..." Barty clambered over his boyfriends as his cold, veiny hands meet your waist.

His hands skim your body up and down, before pecking your lips softly, as if he was asking for acceptance.

"Can I kiss you?" Barty spoke so softly, he may have been chaotic and insane- but he was extremely cautious and respectable with things like this.

"I-I wanna taste you so bad.." Evan cooed at Barty's sweet words, as he held an extremely flustered Regulus in his arms, watching the scene in front of him unfold.

"Barty- please, kiss me." You mewled, barely finishing your sentence as he dived into your lips.

His lips surprisingly tasted like cherry chapstick, even though he had just been chugging firewhiskey.

After feeling like an eternity, Barty broke your kiss.

"I've wanted to do that since fourth year." He mumbled drunkenly, gazing up stupidly and lovingly at your blush-kissed face.

His kisses were heavenly, and so were Evan's, and Regulus'.

And needless to say, you didn't return back to Pandora that night.

'YOU'RE POINTING AT THE STARS IN THE SKY THAT ALREADY DIED.'

The return to Hogwarts was an awkward one at that.

But returning back to Hogwarts feeling happier than ever with your boyfriends? That was the best return you could make.

Hand in hand with Barty, you strutted into the Great Hall.

Evan and Regulus trailed behind, as you rambled on and on to Barty about something.

James stared your direction, and you unfortunately met his gaze.

He wasn't dense, he could see how your bright smile seemed to dim.

He smiled, softly.

James knew that they'd never get you back the way they had you.

He should've realized that you were the light of their lives.

Everyone should've woken up to see you.

They hurt you.

And this was their price.

They had to watch you thrive, with three other men.

Who would treat you like a goddess, something they never sought time for.

OPTIONAL FORIGIVNESS ENDING (my fragile angel heart can't take no happy ending)

PEOPLE WATCHING (coming soon...)

taglist; @hisparentsgallerryy @cultish-corner @asexualbuthorny @prettylittlewrites @champomiel @hellothere7 @anakinsluvrr @lady-balem @awkwardalie @nosteponduck @eeviee4 @dreamygirli3 @navs-bhat @angemyrtille @mrssslangdon @siillly @makanirock05 @hcqwxrtss123 @wolfyychan @nislame @lalalandincraz @rorywright @ih3artpjo @st4r-girl-official @pain-in-the-ashe

[sato-s-only-wife5107]

LMK!Wukong: The Game.

Word Count: 1078.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Clingy Wukong acting like a baby.

Authors Notes: Based on that one (TikTok?)video with the lady and her adorable clingy kitty. It felt very LMK!Wukong coded, so I couldn't help myself. Hope you enjoy! And don't be shy, feel free to request whatever you want!

<---Previous | Masterlist | Next--->

The vibe of Flower Fruit Mountain was rather peaceful in the past few hours. The little monkeys didn't come to bother you or anything today, which made you a bit suspicious. Wukong wasn't any different though, still the same old monkey, clinging to you like a child with its favourite toy. Not that you minded your boyfriend’s embrace, but being able to scratch your nose would have been nice.

You were on the internet when you saw the inspiration to do something… fun. You glanced at your Monkey King and smiled a bit as he repeatedly nuzzled into your stomach. You moved to sit up on the bed and stretched, which made him briefly let you go so he could do the same. When he was about to bury himself back into you, that's when you struck and stopped him. 

“What?” Wukong looked at you in confusion with a small frown when you didn't allow him to cuddle you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Stay,” you warned, which made him twitch in excitement at the challenge. The way his tail moved and how his eyes zeroed in on you made him look like a wild animal ready to pounce and not let go till your body stopped moving… Well, in this case till you stop resisting.

“No,” he said yet again like the stubborn little monkey he was.

“Stay,” you repeated, which made the Monkey King pout like a baby. “Don't look at me like that.”

“Mine,” he whined as he opened his arms in an attempt for you to collapse into him. 

Not today. 

“No,” you warned again.

“Not mine?” he teared, you had to give him credit, his guilt trip game was fire.

“Yes yours, but no touchy,” you assured him and tried not to laugh.

“Why?” he whined, but listened to you nonetheless, which surprised you greatly. He showed more self-control today than you gave him credit for.

“No,” you stood firm, wanting nothing more than to see where his limit for the day was.

“Mine…” He pouted at you, his lip quivered, and he looked like he was about to cry. It hurt your heart and soul… But you knew him too well to fall for that. 

“We're gonna play a game, okay?”

“No, mine,” his quivering pout turned stubborn, his arms still open till you lowered them by his wrist with your index fingers.

“We're playing a game,” you said more forcefully, not giving him the choice.

“Mmm,” he whined, but it's a potential game with you, and he’s Wukong, so he let you continue.

“It's called keep hands to self, okay?” 

“No!” he snapped immediately. 

“Volume!” you snapped back.

“Don't care!” he snapped back.

He’s such a child for such an old monkey. You mused to yourself.

He wanted you in his arms! He didn't want to play a stupid game that required him to have you right there but not be able to touch you. He was offended you'd even suggest something like that.

“Too much of a coward?” you smirked and raised a challenging brow that made him flinch. “Maybe you're too weak to be able to do such a simple task?”

“No…” he grumbled and folded his arms as he looked away. 

He's so predictable… I admit I wanna kiss him right now though… you thought to yourself and decided to reward the Monkey King a bit when you were done torturing him.

“C'mon~ surely my big strong Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven won't be bested by a tiny little game,” you worked his ego, and as it always did, it worked.

“Fine, I'll play your stupid game…” he caved, but his fingers intertwined with yours.

“That-that means your hands too,” you were trying so hard not to laugh as you pulled your hand away from his.

“What?” He narrowed his eyes again.

“Yeah, that includes your hands too,” you told him and removed your hand from his. “Keep hands to self, remember?”

“I don't like this game!” he protested and reached to grab your face, but you were faster and grabbed his wrists.

“My face as well, no touching my face,” you spoke and moved his hands to his lap.

It really hurt you to deny him, the adorable pouting baby opened his arms in an attempt to get you to give in first, but you stood strong.

“No hugging,” you mused.

“Ugh,” he glared at you but kept still with his hands on his lap. You could tell it was taking everything in the Monkey King not to just jump you and be over with. The proof was in the way his tail twitched and swayed in annoyance… and the fact that his entire body was shaking like a chihuahua. 

“Good job!” the second the words left your mouth, that's exactly what he did… jump you.

“Finally!” he said as he squeezed you in his arms, but not so tightly that you'd be uncomfortable and want another reason to leave his arms again.

“W-wait, we’re not done yet!” you laughed and tried to get through to him, but it was clear to see that you had lost. 

“We are done,” he said firmly and buried his face into your stomach.

“I'll tell you when-  I'll tell you-” You still tried to peel him off of you, but he was stuck to you like Flex tape.  “I'll tell you when the game is over,”

“It is over,” he pulled back a bit to speak but buried his face into your stomach again. 

“No, no, no,” you laugh, “let's just try it,”

“No, mine!” he held on firmly.

“But-”

“Mine!” he yelled as he squeezed you more.

“Gods dammit,” you swore with a laugh as you gave in and stroked your fingers through his bed head. “Okay, okay, you win.”

“Mine~” he smirked up at you and moved up to bury his face into your neck. 

“All yours, silly monkey,” you chuckled at his display.

Honestly, you couldn't resist him, just as much as he couldn't resist you. You snuggled into his furry chest and took in the scent of your conditioner he kept stealing. You felt at peace at that moment, and it didn't take long for the tired hero to KO. Not only that, but you still couldn't escape, even with him asleep. Not that you minded, you revelled in your Monkey King seeking your comfort and love. That was the bare minimum he deserved.

[zablife]

Now You Know the Truth (Part 7)

Tommy x wife reader

Summary: Dr. Holford comes to answer questions about Tommy's condition and you play your part as the supportive wife...perhaps too well.

Author's Note: My readers have spoken via poll, calling for a happy(ish) ending for this series. However, I also heard those of you who craved a dose of evil. I hope you enjoy the ending I've crafted for this twisted tale. I have to admit, I find it quite satisfying!

Warnings: medical situations, inaccurate medical advice, manipulation

Part 6

"If left untreated, the consequences would be dire," Dr. Holford concluded as silence blanketed the room.

Tommy stood from his desk and began pacing slowly, hands stuffed in his pockets as he began to shake his head in disagreement. "If," he mumbled disgustedly. He cast a long shadow where he stood above the doctor's chair, glowering as he pronounced, "You don't know a bloody thing about what's going to happen."

"Tommy, please, you promised to listen," you began, exchanging a worried glance with Dr. Holford.

"While you are correct that I do not know the exact course of events, I can say with certainty it is not a matter of if but when you succumb. Your wife tells me you enjoy race horses, playing the odds. Well let me assure you these percentages are not in your favor, sir. " Although the doctor tried to adopt a more forceful tone, Tommy only scoffed in reply.

"You people and your percentages. Wasn't it your doctors who told my aunt the gold salts worked without fail?" he asked, eyebrow cocked defiantly.

"As I've explained, your condition is quite different and the treatment I'm offering is a new cure," the doctor assured. "It's less invasive and we would keep your confinement to the absolute minimum."

Tommy stood rubbing his temples as he considered the gravity of the situation. Finally he asked through gritted teeth, "How long?"

"I'm afraid we won't know until we've begun, but cases similar to yours have taken less than six months,” Dr. Holford advised, mouth twitching slightly as he spoke. Every moment spent deceiving your husband was wearing down his defenses and you prayed Tommy wouldn't notice the poorly concealed nervous tremor.

Tommy grumbled as he reached for his cigarette case, a rumble of dissatisfaction issuing forth. "I'm a busy man, doctor. My business interests combined with the care of my pregnant wife….That isn't possible," he concluded, the snap of his lighter finalizing the decision hastily.

Rising to your feet, you placed a hand to Tommy's forearm gently. "That's exactly why you must get well soon," you pleaded. "I need you, Tom," you said with as much sincerity as you could muster.

Though you could feel his icy blue eyes upon you, a sudden waft of smoke created a veil between you. Momentarily, you were transported to Dr. Holford's office and the moment your final plan for Tommy took shape.

I will insist he get well and thus he will refuse to go. That’s when you must present the second option. However, Tommy must be thoroughly convinced in order to believe he's chosen it for himself.

Yes, but are you certain this is what you want, Mrs. Shelby? The effects would be irreversible.

As you refocused on Tommy's crystal irises, Dr. Holford's voice came wafting over your shoulder like a siren call. "There is another way.”

Tommy broke from you suddenly, attempting to hide his curiosity and failing when he rushed out the words, “Go on.”

Sitting forward, the doctor explained, “Some colleagues of mine have shared their research on an experimental procedure to remove the tumor instead of attempting to shrink it.”

“A simpler, more effective solution?” Tommy mused.

“More painful perhaps, but certainly less time to execute,” the doctor conceded with quickening breath, his knee bouncing slightly as he cut his eyes toward you. “And the results would be..." he paused for emphasis, "immediate."

Your eyes gleamed at his word choice, hopeful Tommy would seize upon his promise.

“Pain is the least of my concerns,” Tommy replied gruffly, crushing his cigarette into the ashtray forcefully.

You could tell by his determination, he had made up his mind without you having to ask, but you voiced the question for Dr. Holford's benefit. "Then you'll agree to put this behind us before the baby arrives?" you prodded.

He only nodded with clenched jaw as Dr. Holford reached into his briefcase for the consent forms.

"Fucking get on with it then," Tommy announced to no one in particular as he signed them and stormed out of the room.

"Thank you," you mouthed to the doctor.

He returned your show of appreciation with a small, but triumphant nod.

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

One year later...

"There she is! There's mummy!" Frances called in sing song, crossing the lawn to bring you a wriggling infant.

"Did you have a lovely nap, my darling?" you asked the tiny raven haired cherub, her bright blue eyes catching the light and glinting back at you mischievously. At times she looked so much like Tommy, it stole your breath.

"Not long enough," Frances replied with apologetic eyes. "Mr. Shelby woke her ma'am. I'm awfully sorry."

"Is he wandering the halls again?" you sighed.

"I'm afraid so, but the nurse is coming to fetch him,” she assured you.

"No, there’s no need," you replied with a cheerful smile. "We’ll tend to daddy, won’t we?” you asked your child, hoisting her onto your hip as Frances went back to her other duties. Meanwhile your daughter gurgled back at you happily and you stopped to admire her, heart flooding with overwhelming joy.

Strolling back through the well manicured grounds you surveyed the magnificent face of Arrow House. “This will all be yours one day,” you promised placing a kiss to her temple. “Mummy saw to it because I love you so,” you cooed to her in the soothing voice reserved for bedtime fairy tales.

As you rounded the corner to the room that you once shared with your husband, you sighed softly at the sight of him sitting on the bed, struggling to unbutton his shirt. A maid passed you in the hall, offering a sympathetic smile. “Mr. Shelby looks well today,” she chirped encouragingly, her green eyes shining with admiration for your bravery.

In truth, everyone looked upon you with kindness after the unfortunate outcome of your husband’s brain surgery. Though docile and calm, he had been left simple minded, relying on you for every decision.

“I think you’re right, Mary,” you agreed, closing the door to your husband’s room for privacy.

Bringing your daughter to his bedside, you watched him slowly form the words to greet her, a lazy smile settling on his face before returning to his task. Placing her on the floor to play, you turned back to help him remove his shirt and swing his legs into bed.

You pulled the covers up to his chin and pushed the fringe from his forehead, watching as his empty eyes gazed back at you. All the spite and malice of years past erased with no hint of the formidable man he once was. At times it made you believe you could love him if not for the suffering that came before, which you could neither forgive nor forget.

Pulling back to study him, your face hardened involuntarily at the memory of all the years you spent under the reign of his cruelty. How the tide had turned, you thought as you watched your now frail husband draw breath.

"Y/n?" he called out, hand reaching from beneath the duvet to reach for you. "My love?"

Leaning forward to tuck him in, your lips brushed past his ear whispering, “How long have you been dead for, darling? Lost inside your mind. Have you forgotten?" Your breath fanned over him in a gentle wave, making him shudder slightly and you relished it.

Your lips curled into a satisfied smile as you hissed, "I'm not yours any longer, but make no mistake you are mine until the day you die." Then you leaned down to retrieve your daughter, walking away to leave him sputtering in distress.

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

Tag List:

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[eclipsecrowned]

BLOG MOVE!

Long overdue, blog has become a complete mess, Hoping to enter 2025 with some more positive energy by being able to pre-empt blocking some real freaks out there who like to lurk on my page and a better focus on ic!

What this is going to look like:

Fresh transfer to a new blog, though I will slow drip in what people would prefer be transferred over*. Mild rework of muse page to remove muses that no longer or never generated interest. A tighter focus on what sparks joy for me as much as for my partners bc tbh i got kind of exhausted being 'the x person' or not feeling that all muses were regarded as equal in different fandoms.

Timetable:

I'm going to spend the next few days I have off doing the heavy lifting of actual coding/aesthetics/test posting, and so on. Over time, I will be finalizing my carrd to have more in depth information for all muses, as well as the easy-access mobile muse page for people who just want it short or sweet. I also intend to ensure each muse has a fully functional tag system before moving bc these same named bitches w a tbt appended are killing me. Is this Charlotte from B*rserk or Charlotte from Debede? Shut up past Kadi I'm going to kill you. This hopefully means I will be fully ready to go in early-mid January if not a little sooner. For now, I will still be semi-active/lurking here just grabbing everything I need, and will let you all know when that changes.

What's coming with me:

Dynamics/Ships

Headcanons

Most of you hopefully!

Probably most muses

Most fandoms, with a few greatly expanded character-wise

Any threads people want me to transfer*

Any IC or meta asks people want me to transfer*

*The focus at the start is on just setting a new daily writing habit, which means I will likely focus on new threads and asks to start. However, I don't intend to totally abandoned some threads that have been plotted or even just interest me. The main point is that I will put those on the back burner until I can give them the focus and energy they deserve. If there is a thread or ask you want on rotation moving forward, please fill out this form so I can hold on to it :D

If you 100% want to remain mutuals the new blog like this post and I will follow you once it's identifiable as mine/not a bot.

[abiiors]

Veee could you write something with matty where reader is also an artist (a way less known one) and its just pure fluff with both of them being inspired by one another?

Feel free to ignore ofc!!🫶🫶🫶

muse - matty x reader

a/n: this took a very different direction than originally planned and got slightly existential sorry about that 💀💀 but i hope you like it regardless <33

divider by @/cafekitsune

cw: mentions of smut, talks of death, general fluff and sappiness.

the artist flicks through the feature.

her name is printed in big letters on the cover of the monthly issue, her face--smiling and excited--next to the centrepiece of her latest art collection: cupid and psyche. the painting is stunning, a riot of bold colours and patterns but the at the centre is a man, his face hidden, his jet black curls tousled. his body is relaxed, she thinks there's an air of carefreeness about him.

and she'd know that for sure, after all that day is etched into her memory.

when she feels a familiar pair of arms wrap around her, she smiles.

"you're rather proud of the feature, aren't you?" matty's voice holds a little teasing note. she's stared at the feature for close to thirty minutes now, discreetly pinching herself in the same spot on her arm. (it sports a tiny, barely-there bruise now)

"good," matty nuzzles his face into her neck, softly kissing the skin, "you should be. the exhibit was fucking gorgeous."

"mmm, because you were the centrepiece?" fondly, she teases back, but the memory flashes in front of her eyes--the bustling art gallery, matty in a corner, wearing a plain hoodie and jeans and a cap hiding half of his face, absolutely brimming with pride.

she remembers the journalists asking about the man in all the paintings, the one whose face no one can see. "he's my muse," she says every time, "this collection is dedicated to him."

"someone's going to connect the dots," matty walks around her, settling himself next to her on the sofa. instantly, they rearrange themselves into a tangle--her legs on his lap, his arm around her, her head on his shoulders, his head on hers. "if they looked carefully, they'll make the connection."

"matty, we have been each other's muse for years and no one's found out. i don't think they're going to start now. besides," she snorts, "i think the art world thinks i've made you up in my mind. won't be the first time an artist's gone insane."

matty laughs. "maybe you have. you always say i'm too good to be true."

when she can't think of a retort, she sticks her tongue out, shrieking away when he smothers her in kisses.

"seriously though, it's fun writing about you. singing about you. and i love seeing myself through your eyes." suddenly matty sounds all sober and serious. she thinks his voice even wavers slightly at the end. he blinks quickly though, and just like that the brightness in his eyes is gone.

"love it when you write about me too," she teases, "love being called a gemini and a sexy girl, such poetry."

"oi! i put my heart into that! it's a precious memory for me."

"the memory of us fucking in the new bath for the first time?"

matty giggles like a teenager, hiding his face in her hair. it's fun to rile him up like this, so she continues, poking him in the ribs. "or waking up the next day with a head cold because we stayed in the cold water for so long hmm?"

"you took care of me though, and so i think you deserve to have a song written about you. or a whole album works too i think." then matty tuts. "actually, no. don't wanna tell anyone it's about you, that'll ruin the magic."

"ruin the magic?"

"of being your muse and having you as mine. i think a hundred years from now, when people would see your art as the artwork of this generation, and my music as the tune of our times--"

"tune of our times..."

"yeah, quit laughing at me!" matty flicks her nose, quickly kissing it after. "so when my music becomes the tune of our times, i think people will see it then. they will make the connections."

secretly, she loves the idea--that their love might transcend time and space through their art. that decades from now their names might be whispered together, even though they aren't just yet.

"of course, we'll be buried together by then. same grave by the way, very romeo and juliet of us."

"that's morbid!" she laughs sharply, "what will the epitaph say?"

matty hums for a bit, thinking, his eyes flutter shut for a second or two almost like he needs to focus on the half formed thought until it's a complete sentence. then he excitedly clears his throat and gently holds her face between his hands.

"here lie the artist and the muse; inspiring each other in death as they did in life."

[komotionlessqueenmm]

Imagine # 1,060

Picture NOT mine.

Year posted - 2024

Rating - SFW

Reading time (Roughly) - 12 minutes

This one was actually a request, which I don't typically do, but sometimes I simply can't resist!

Tag(s) - @rishdrago

With a tired sigh (Y/n) sat the last of her groceries onto the counter in her kitchen. It was another long day at work, with another grueling case coming to a close. While she loves her job, sometimes it really takes a toll on her. But now at home all she needs to worry about is putting away her groceries, and making a quick dinner. Easy enough. If it wasn't for the sound of a floorboard creaking in the hallway that set her into fight or flight mode.

Spinning on her heel in an instant, she unholstered her pistol and aimed at the doorway to the hallway. "You really messed up you know, but if you know what's good for you, you'll come into the light nice and slow. Otherwise you're gonna leave my house in an ambulance, or a body bag." (Y/n) called out to the would be intruder, bracing herself for a potential firefight. But when the intruder rounded the corner, and came into sight, she nearly dropped her gun. "Frank?" She breathed out in a whisper, her arms falling to her sides. "Frank's dead." He muttered mournfully. "You look pretty fucking alive to me." She sassed as she holstered her pistol, knowing deep down that she could still trust Frank with her life.

The behemoth of a man simply shrugged his shoulders, taking a small first step into the room, as if he was testing the water. "What are you doing here?" She asked turning back to her groceries, while letting him come into the room at his own pace. "I killed Gianni Franco." He stated as he walked up to the other side of the counter, leaving the space between them to prove he meant her no harm. "Trust me Frank, I am well aware of that. You do realize I'm still a detective right? And I'm still friends with Jake you know, so I'm the one he goes to, to vent about you." She glanced his way, trying to get a read of his reaction to her words.

He seemed unbothered, which really didn't surprise her. "I'm sorry." Now that surprised her. Setting the box of noodles down, she turned her full attention to Frank. "Why are you apologizing to me? I'm not the one you should apologize to." She pointed out, but Frank didn't seem bothered, as he casually scratched at the scruff on his face. "Frank why are you here?" She asked now standing across from him at the counter, looking into his eyes which once swirled with so much life. "I don't know... I'm not exactly sure what to do now." He admitted.

"Jake would tell you to turn yourself in." (Y/n) mused with a small smile, her words making him chuckle softly under his breath, a sound she had missed more than she ever realized until now. "That's why I came to you." He admitted, now leaning against the counter. "I knew you wouldn't arrest me on the spot like Jake, and I could just talk to you." Frank admitted with a small smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Well that's where me and Jake are different, I actually believe you're doing the world good by killing those guys. People like that have to much money and power for us to touch, and we could use a vigilante to even out the odds." She hummed as she grabbed a beer from the fridge, sliding it across the counter to Frank, who took it with a small mutter of thanks. "I knew you'd feel that way." He said before sipping his beer. "Then why didn't you come to me sooner?" She asked as she leaned again the counter.

"Because I don't want you trying to join me." He stated matter-of-factly, making (Y/n) chuckle softly. "That's fair I guess, but what's changed? Why come to me now?" She pried, hoping he would open up to her. "I had a dream about you last night." His words stuck a cord in (Y/n)'s heart, one she didn't realize was still there until now. "A dream?" She played off her nerves like a natural, making her glad she was trained to hide her true emotions, in order to effectively interrogate suspects.

"It started as a nightmare, I was reliving their deaths." She knew he was referring to his family, so she didn't pry for clarification, knowing it only hurt him to talk about them. "But before I could wake up, you appeared from the shadows. You didn't say anything, you just..." He trailed off as he stared at his beer. "You just pulled me into a hug, and held me while I cried for them." (Y/n)'s heart broke at his admittance, she knew he hated showing vulnerably before he lost his family, let alone now that he's The Punisher.

"It made me realize how much I've missed you, and I also realized I can't keep doing this alone, I can't keep being alone." He looked up to her, his eyes ever so glossy. "I know Julie would want me to move on, to come to terms with what happened. But I couldn't do that while the Franco's were still alive and free." He sipped his beer. "But now... Now I need help getting through this, and you're the only one that can help me (Y/n)." Frank wanted to hold her hand as he spoke, but he resisted the urge.

"I'll always be here for you Frank." She assured him, her words pulling a genuine smile from him. "How about I make us some dinner, and we can figure out where to go from there." She offered, smiling when he nodded in agreement. "You should stay here tonight, get a shower and have some normalcy for a change." She added. "Are you trying to say I smell bad?" He asked with a playful smirk.

"Frank dear I've been holding my breath this entire time." (Y/n) joked, making him roll his eyes, despite his smile. "Still a smartass I see." He huffed. "You wouldn't have it any other way." She sassed before pointing to the hallway. "You still remember where the guestroom is." She added, smiling when he nodded and walked off to take a shower while she cooked dinner.

"Well what are you planning on doing now that you've dealt with the Franco family?" (Y/n) asked before she finished off the last bite of her dinner. "There are still people who are not punished by the justice system." Frank stated having finished his dinner long before she had. "Are you planning on doing to them what you did to the Franco's?" She asked. "Only to those who deserve it." Frank clarified, setting (Y/n)'s mind at ease.

"I'm glad you've come to me Frank, but I'm unbelievably exhausted, and I need to get some sleep." She rose from her seat, picking up her plate, and moving to grab his. Frank took her plate, and grabbed his own. "I'll deal with the dishes, go to bed, we can talk more in the morning." He insisted. "Okay thank you." She leaned over and pecked his temple like she used to as a quick thanks. "Oh and I forgot to ask, you didn't break any windows to get in did you?" She asked.

"No don't worry, I just picked the lock on the back door." He shrugged casually. "You still have that spare key I gave you don't you?" She arched a brow at him, and his faint smile gave him away. "Goodnight Frank." She called as she walked away into the hall. "Goodnight (Y/n)." He called back to her. When (Y/n) reached her bedroom, she began shedding off her clothes, in desperate need of a warm shower before going to bed.

As the water washed over her sore muscles, (Y/n)'s mind drifted to Frank. She'd been so torn up when he was declared dead, and mourned for him and his family for many months. They were a big part of her life, they were family to her. Even though deep down (Y/n) had loved Frank in a deeper more heart wrenching way. She knew it wasn't right, she knew that then, and even now she feels guilty for it.

She never acted on it, and never intended on trying to take him as her own. He was happy and he deserved the love he already had with Julie. Now things are different, but it still doesn't feel right, even if it's been over a year since she passed. He clearly still loved her, and (Y/n) wasn't going to make a fool of herself, and potentially push him away and loose him again. Still she couldn't deny the way her heart fluttered at the sight of him again, so much more gruff and rugged.

And knowing that he trusted her enough to come to her made her head spin. By the time she finished her shower, her eyes grew heavy with sleep. Her mind was still stuck on Frank, even as she crawled between the sheets. She wondered idly if he would still be here in the morning, or if he'd ever come back when he did leave. As she began drifting to sleep, she heard the sound of the guestroom door opening and closing. Telling her he was still here, and most likely would still be come morning.

(Y/n)'s sleep was dreamless and peaceful, which was better than she'd had in weeks. While Frank's dreams were chaotic and filled with memories that still hurt him oh so deeply. He dreamt of his children, of his wife, of the look of betrayal and hurt on Jakes face. Then he dreamt of (Y/n), and her never ending acceptance of the choices he's made. He felt at ease while he dreamt of her, his tense muscles relaxing as he dreamt of walking with her beside a lake.

She always had a way of putting him at ease, just by simply being there and listening to him vent whenever he needed it. He knew she meant more to him than just a friend, but he much like her, had never intended on exploring those feelings. But now after everything, despite knowing he's putting her in danger by coming around, Frank knows he needs her. He needs her help more than ever, and he knows deep down that Julie would understand.

When morning came Frank woke up to the smell of breakfast. Something he's missed more than he realized until now. In a bit of a groggy daze Frank wondered into the kitchen, dressed in the sleep clothes he found in the closet in the guestroom. "Mornin' bud." (Y/n) mused as she pushed a fresh cup of coffee his way. "Morning." He muttered as he slipped at the hot brew, slightly surprised she remembered how he likes his coffee.

"You want some breakfast?" She asked as she pulled two plates from the cupboard. "Please." He nodded his head in agreement. "Good because I made plenty." She mused with a smile, as she placed a plate in front of him. "I'm glad you're still here and you didn't slip away in the night." She added sincerely. "I half expected that last night would be the last time I'd ever see you." Her words cut him deeper than he would have expected, but he understood where she was coming from.

"Like I said, I need your help." Frank said earnestly. "Well then, what's the plan?" She asked as she sat beside him with her own plate. "I don't really have a plan, but for now I think we'll just take it one day at a time, and figure it all out." He shrugged. "Wow the Frank Castle doesn't have a plan, that's a first." (Y/n) joked, making him chuckle. "So are you planning on staying here?" She asked a few moments later. "No I don't want to put you at risk of being caught hiding a fugitive." He shook his head.

"I appreciate that." She hummed softly, having worried a bit about that last night. "I think it'll be best if I just come in the evenings when I need... Well a shoulder to lean on I guess." He said, picking at his food a little. "And when you need patched up I imagine." She added, trying to lighten the mood a bit, and Frank agreed with a small chuckle. "Yeah I'm sure I probably will come to you when I need patched up." He smiled at her before going back to eating his breakfast. "I'll be sure to stock up on some supplies." (Y/n) mused more to herself, than to Frank.

(Y/n)'s pager went off with a shrill beeping, signaling that it was time to get to work. Her partner letting her know they already had a new case to work on. "Well that's my queue, I've gotta get going. I'll see you later Frank, don't worry about the dishes, I'll deal with that when I get home." (Y/n) moved back into the kitchen, placing her half empty plate into the sink for now. "Hey (Y/n)." Frank called to her before she could rush off. "Yeah?" She asked, turning her attention to him. "Thank you, for everything." He stood from his seat, and crossed the room, pulling her into a hug. "You're welcome Frank." She hummed as she hugged him back, feeling as though she's already made a difference in his chaotic life.

Buy me a coffee sometime? ☕️

(Click the coffee for my Kofi link, IT'S NOT NECESSARY BTW.)

I honestly couldn't think of a better way of ending this one, but I hope it was satisfactory either way. I'm a little rusty, as I haven't consistently written in ages, so I apologize if it didn't turn out as good as you hoped. (゜-゜)

[snekwritesstuff]

Take A Break (pt. 2 of ?)

Part 1 Here! Pairing: Doomed Polycule? I think? Word Count: 948 Warnings: Bill is once again a little shit, don't assume this is healthy yet. Otherwise, none!

hi hello we're back with this again. i have some ideas for this still but im not sure how to implement them all. anywho...enjoy!

Fiddleford was ready to wake up. As he clung to the wall behind him, he swallowed thickly at the sight of Bill in the flesh. Or at least in the…whatever he was made of. The demon's eye pierced his own, sending a bolt of anxiety through the engineer.

“Specs! Good to finally meet you, eh?” Bill said, holding out his hand and closing his eye in a smile.

Fidds could only nod, sliding down the cabin wall. 

“I hear you wanna talk! Name's Bill, though you seem to already know that.” When Fidds didn't shake his hand, he brought it back with a shrug. “And you're Fiddlesticks! Gotta say, for a hick, you seem to have a pretty nice mindscape in here. But maybe that's because you've used the old memory gun a few too many times.”

“You know about the gun?” Fidds asked, voice cracking.

“Of course I know about the gun!” Bill laughed, suddenly approaching Fidds’ face. “And I know about your wife, and about your desperation for my Fordsy.”

“My–”

“Oh, don't play dumb with me, Specs, you gave him googly eyes before you left the basement. And it's almost like, and I'm spitballing here, I'm in your head.”

Fidds’ face flushed red as he turned away. “This isn’t fair, Bill. I’m tryin’ to have a civil conversation.”

Bill blinked, taken aback for a moment. “Civil? Where Fordsy is concerned? Never.”

“So you two are…Not important. Not…yeah.” Fidds sighed, bringing a hand to his face. “Look, you’re a little intimidatin’, but if you’re makin’ him happy, then I can’t complain. Just try to be mindful of ‘im. And, well, I think you and I should at least try to play nice since we both clearly care for ‘im.”

“Hm, asking something of me without giving me something in return…Not my style, Specs.” The demon tapped a finger to where his mouth would have been if he had one. Did…he have one? “Though, I do love a good deal. How ‘bout we make one?”

Fidds shook his head vigorously. “Mama raised a godly boy, and while that may be different now, I know better than to meddle in devilish voodoo.” He shuddered with a grimace. “This dream's plenty proof for me that you exist.”

Bill twirled his cane, a hand behind his head. “Fordsy likes you too, y'know.”

“Not my business. He's got his love life, I've got mine. No need to–What?” 

With a laugh the demon swam in front of the engineer, his chin resting on folded hands and legs kicking behind him. “I couldn't give less of a damn if you like him, Fiddlesticks. I care because he always gets so prickly when his little hillbilly's involved. You're a smart one, but nothing like my Sixer.” His large eye inched ever closer towards Fidds. “Which makes me curious. Why does the greatest mind across every dimension care about someone as mediocre as you, when he has a god that cares about him and can boost his potential?” 

“I couldn’t tell you.” The sting of those words hurt more than Fidds wanted to admit. “But I know a gamble when I see one, and I'm starin’ one head on. What is he gettin’ out of this?” 

“Power beyond any mortal mind's comprehension, an expanding kingdom to rule and study as he sees fit, a life with his Muse…” The demon tapped his fingers in a counting motion. “What else could my Fordsy want? Certainly nothing you could provide.”

“Ford's not interested in power,” Fidds spat. 

“Oh-ho, boy are you wrong!” Bill laughed. “All humans want power!”

“I don't–”

“Hold on, hold on, get your suspenders out of that knot! Power manifests in different ways, Fiddlesticks.” The demon jabbed a finger towards the man's glasses. “But we're getting off topic…Here's the deal. I can't physically enter your realm unless that portal's finished.”

“Good,” the engineer growled. “I don't want you anywhere near this place.”

“I mean no harm, of course, and even if I did, Ford's willing to help me. My offer to you is if you let me drive this bad boy around every once in a while, I can make sure we both get a piece of our favorite scientist.”

Fidds’ face twisted in disgust, shaking his head again. “Ford would never. And you’ve got another thing comin’ if you think I’d let you use me to keep twistin’ his brain every which way.”

Bill shrugged. “Your loss, Fiddlesticks, but the offer’s always on the table! Anywho, time for me to go! Nothing matters, buy gold, bye–”

“Now hold your horses!” At Bill’s slow blink, Fidds continued. “That’s all? You come into my head, ruin my night, and-and you’re just gonna leave? I haven’t gotten a single word in! What do you really want with Ford?”

“I just told you, Specs, keep up!”

Fidds finally stood, shoving a finger in the demon’s face. “I ain’t stupid, Billy, you know exactly what I’m askin’ you!”

“And I ain’t tellin’ you!” Bill’s accent was a mockery, fueling Fidds’ bubbling rage. 

“Fine then! But if you hurt him, there ain’t nothin’ in any dimension that can stop me from tearing those stupid little limbs off your stupid yellow body and feeding them to you one by one.”

“Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time, Fiddlesticks!” Bill patted Fidds’ head condescendingly. “You’re fun! I’ll be here more often, I think. Bye!”

As the demon disappeared, Fidds woke up with a start. He slammed a fist against his mattress and stood. Pacing the floor, he muttered to himself before sitting at his desk and drawing up blueprints for an inter-dimensional death ray that aimed only at yellow triangles.

[russellsppttemplates]

Do you think you can do an imagine or blurb of the song kisses to my exes by tate McRae for Lewis?

Note: I rarely do pieces inspired by songs because I feel quite intimidated by them - there are such great pieces out there, and mine are a bit meh I guess... Still gave this a shot, though 🫣

You walked into the club, heels clicking behind you as you fixed the strap on your top while you headed for the bar to grab yourself a drink.

"I think I've seen you here before", a guy chatted you up, "although if I remember correctly, you were taken and your boyfriend made it very clear when he brought you to the VIP area", he mused, "what brings you here to the downstairs area?".

"Being a single woman who can be anywhere she wants", you smiled, drinking out of the straw as you approached him.

Your relationship with Lewis didn't end on the greatest terms, if you were being completely honest. To the outside public, you had put an end to the eight year relationship after you both felt like you were in different places in life. It was amicable and you two remained friends.

To anyone on your close circles, however, that was utter bullshit. The fights were constant, and whenever you called it quits, either of you ended up calling the other after a few days, it would reignite only to fall again. So far, however, neither of you had called.

"I'll care for you then, darling", he smiled back, taming your hand and twisting you to land on his chest smoothly, your hands joining on your tummy as you danced to the beat.

"This is a pretty necklace you have", he fiddled with the gold piece around your neck after he kissed under your ear, "did he give it to you?".

"It's mine, that's all that matters", you replied, turning around to face him, "you have any problems with that?", you raised your eyebrows.

"Not at all", he chuckled, "you really don't mind?".

"That he loved me? Am I supposed to apologise for it?", you tsked.

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

[amplexadversary]

Okay I've gleefully derailed posts before but this is a big derail and kind of dumb so I'm linking it.

When I watch the linked video, I end up thinking of Allenby gossiping about the shuffles, and now I need to headcanon who would likely say what bullshit.

-"I'm going to shit your pants." -> I could see this coming from a few people. Sai is a little fucker, he would make this threat and mean it. Chibodee would say it facetiously. Domon (while I headcanon him to be pretty good with languages) probably isn't above a gaffe where he means to say "I'm going to make you shit your pants," but misspeaks (probably when the guys are getting really rowdy and distracting and everybody's talking over each other.)

-"A duck the size of a tiger would have to be quite stout, I don't know that I could vanquish such a foe." -> George, though he'd choose different words than the video.

-"I'm all wet because Allenby dropped her phone in the river and I jumped in to get it. I can't find it though, can somebody call it while my head is underwater?" -> Domon would do this reflexively. Chibodee probably would as well.

-"I think it's time I come clean, I don't actually understand how wind works." -> Sai would be the funniest person to admit this, with his wind-based super move.

-"toodaloo, kangaroos" -> Domon, because someone told him it's a thing people say in English and he's kind of gullible.

-"Why the hell do we all have identical jackets? I can never find mine. Oh, but it's probably the one with my name on it though." -> while Domon or Chibodee would probably be the most likely to have this kind of brain fart, I think it's funnier if a very tired George says this (... ignore they fact that they don't have matching anything).

-On Monday Sai dared me to eat a spider, so I did. But then later that day I was running up the hill and shit my pants a little. I think those two things were related. -> I'd believe this from three of them in different contexts. Chibodee impulsively agreed to the challenge and admits this because hes mad about it. Argo ate the spider to humor Sai and is trying to discourage the rest of the group from making a similar mistake. Domon ate the spider because Kyoji didnt not have nearly enough chances to teach Domon to be weary of this exact kind of siblingeque horseshit, and we know from how he responds to Master Asia that Domon will just do things that you tell him to. He admits it, begrudgingly, because everybody wants to know why he bailed on them for several hours.

-"Do you guys think my shirt is cute? Too bad, I'm taking it off." "You're cute that way too." -> I could see George and Chibodee, in any order. Chibodee and Domon would only be believable if they're together, and with a massive time skip for them to get comfortable over.

-"My idol is that one dude who ate an entire airplane, love that guy, don't know his name." -> Argo, sarcastically, when Chibodee makes some remark about his physique and asks "what do you eat, sheet metal?"

-"Guys I think I watched the wrong Zootopia." -> Argo probably doesn't only pirate physical goods in the space age. He got a joke translation.

-"Domon, what type of feed does Fuunsaiki like, we want to make him a cake for his birthday." -> I feel like this is George and Argo's planning, and I could see either of them being the one to ask.

-[musing about Ice Age squirrel heteronormativity] -> I think Chibodee's the only one who could reasonably have seen it. He also dyes his hair two colors of the bisexual flag and wears the third so I can see him being annoyed by it.

-"I failed to locate a bear suit, does anybody have a spare bear suit?" -> Tbh this one could be any of them, except George, who is listening with his head in his hands.

-[quoting the infamous Snapcube Eggman rant] -> This is either Sai Saici, or Argo lost a bet to Sai Saici and was told to recite this. Sai is the only one of them I can buy being chronically online enough to reference this. Chibodee looks up Shadow and immediately asks Domon if it's his fursona, which backfires because the only other person in the room who knows what a furry is is Sai.

-"Why aren't you being silly? You promised you would be silly with me." -> ARGO. Said with a straight face to George. (Sai would be too low-hanging-fruit here, but I guarantee he's also looking at George expectantly. Admittedly, part of why I can see this coming from Argo is because of choices the dub made with how he speaks.)

-"Rain sent me this picture. I thought she was telling me that she was pregnant, but this is a covid test. She does have covid." -> Domon. Also worded a little differently than the original. While he did spend half his childhood in a jungle with Master Asia, he's probably seen pregnancy tests in drug stores when they have to make very occasional supply runs. Sai has probably also showed everyone the meme where people would edit a pregnancy test into various pictures.

[idyllic-affections]

invisible disability? it's rather visible to me.

summary. baizhu knows the struggle of maintaining a job while being chronically ill; as such, he is willing to offer an accommodating work environment for others who struggle like he does.

trigger & content warnings. angst (at first... it gets better i swear /lh), ableism, etc.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort. baizhu & chronically ill!teen!reader, qiqi & reader. 1.7k words. they/them pronouns for reader.

author's thoughts. he's out of nonplayable prison ygs!!!!! can't wait to see his character stories for..... personal reasons..... anyways i want to specify that i am chronically ill. i am constantly fighting with my genetics to be healthy, its ridiculous LMAO

imagine baizhu employing a chronically ill, visionless teenager.

baizhu can easily say he's known their family for a long time, so he of course knows that they have trouble keeping a job. they often mention little things like that about their life during their visits with him. never once has he found anything wrong with them; they're always in virtually perfect health.

that doesn't change the fact that they're very clearly struggling. he's observed just how much they overexert themselves in a desperate attempt to actually keep a stable job, simply to help support their family, but all the exertion only seems to make their invisible issues worse.

also... they've been in his care for heat stroke more than once in liyue's warmer seasons. the heat is just far too much for their body to handle if they aren't careful.

"What the hell is wrong with me?"

Their voice was so quiet and whispery that if Baizhu hadn't been attuned closely to them at that moment, he might have missed it. They half wished that he would have. Based on the brief glance he spared in their direction, they knew he was listening. Oh well.

"I mean... really. This is ridiculous," they murmured, knees drawn up against their chest. "Everyone thinks I'm just dramatic. I'm not. I do fine for the most part, but then it just... gets bad for no reason at all... how am I in perfect health?"

By that point in their rant, his undivided attention was on them. Though his gaze was thoughtful, musing, they interpreted it differently and winced slightly.

"...Sorry. I really shouldn't be complaining like this in front of someone who's chronically ill."

"No, it's quite alright. You shouldn't minimize your pain. Your struggles are as valid as mine. I find your trust, your ability to confide in me, quite endearing, even," he reassured, unbothered, to which their shoulders seemed to lose some of the tension they harbored. "In fact... I've been thinking about this for quite some time now. Chronic illness may show itself in a variety of forms. Sometimes it may show itself in the form of your symptoms. Would you like to learn how to manage your energy better?"

the liyuean doctor basically hired them right then and there, but they don't really realize that for the first few weeks.

in the beginning, they're just... spending time at bubu pharmacy, learning how baizhu manages his own limited energy and applying those techniques to their own life (it works shockingly well). that's all!

it slowly turns into them helping out where they can—packaging herbs, learning what exactly each one of them does, delivering prescriptions to those who cannot physically get the medicines themselves... even when people start to question if they've found a new job, they remain oblivious.

it's one day while helping mince herbs that they realize they're basically a junior herbalist.

A soft hiss left their lips when the knife nicked the pad of their finger. They were quick to put pressure on the little cut, pulling their hand away from the countertop to prevent any blood from dripping onto it.

"It's best to get rid of those herbs," Baizhu reminded, stepping away from his own work to gently bandage their wound.

A small pout graced their lips. "I didn't get any blood on them, though..."

Amusement and the vaguest hint of fondness twinkled in his gaze. "We don't know that for certain, do we, now?"

"...Wait a minute." Their eyes narrowed suspicously at him, drawing their freshly-dressed hand back once he was done. "This isn't about energy management anymore, is it? Have I been... I've been working here this entire time. These tasks are very employee-like."

"Come, now. Don't look at me like that. You were looking for a stable job, and I am more than willing to accomodate your needs."

"You could've at least said something to me. I've been doing free labor all this time, and as a child, no less! Hmm... now, I do believe that is illegal in this part of Teyvat~ It'd be shame to get Ms. Yanfei involved~"

in the spirit teaching them to manage their energy, he often takes them on house calls with him, starting off to just homes in liyue harbor and later to homes all the way in qingce village. it's a good way for them to gain stamina and get a better understanding of their job.

baizhu has a tendency to smile through his own pain for the sake of his patients.

this habit slipped by unchecked until [name] came around.

whenever they feel like he isn't doing very well, they'll take over for him regardless of what he has to say about it.

herbalist gui is very thankful for them—baizhu hardly ever listened to him, but he does take better care of himself for [name]'s sake.

(he swears that baizhu is oddly parental when it comes to them, but he wouldn't dare mention the doctor's blatant affections to his face.)

"welcome to bubu pharmacy," they'd greet with a kind smile after unceremoniously shoving baizhu towards the back of the pharmacy where he could rest undisturbed, "unfortunately, dr. baizhu is currently out of commission, but herbalist gui and i would be glad to take care of anything you may need."

sometimes changsheng can be seen wrapped around their arm! usually it's their dominant arm, which is terribly inconveniencing. still, it would be an honor to be Chosen™ by their loved one's pet... if only she wasn't so mean to them.

"Hmph. You're terrible at cutting herbs. It pains me just to watch."

"Okay? Go back to Dr. Baizhu then? I'm not holding you hostage, Changsheng. You came to me," they huffed. "Also... maybe I'd be able to cut better if you weren't strangling my dominant arm. Just saying."

It's a few moments later that they're sulking, murmuring curses as Baizhu disinfected their fresh snake bite. Changsheng completely neglected to apologize until Baizhu had prompted her to.

(They would complain that he found that incident a little too funny if anyone were to ask them. It really hurt, you know!)

changsheng bullies them lovingly <3 she bites them affectionately <33

(not that she'd ever say that, though. baizhu knows. he just chooses to let her believe he doesn't know.)

qiqi becomes very attached to them very quickly, i think. she'd like having a nice older sibling around and would address them as such without even thinking about it. "jiějiě," "gēgē"... she can't really tell what gender they identify closer with and doesn't remember to ask, so she tends to bounce between the two terms of address.

she has an entire page in her journal dedicated to little things about [name] that she deems to be important. she notes down things they seem to like, things they seem to dislike, their birthday, other important dates, defining features...

she also keeps important warning signs related to health episodes of their's jotted down, like how when [name] stands still a little too long, qiqi should urge them to sit for a moment because they're probably either dizzy or having vision issues, or how when their hands begin to tremble, qiqi should share a sunsettia with them.

she does miss these signs sometimes... she does her best, though! qiqi only wants to help the sweet junior herbalist that braids her hair and accompanies her on her herb-picking trips and hugs her and says "i love you, please stop this task, you might get hurt" with so much genuine affection that it often overwhelms her :(

it's rare, but sometimes, there will be a customer or patient that has little tolerance for their disability-induced weakness or slowness.

because their illness(es) is(/are) invisible, very few people take their struggles seriously.

some people take this as an excuse to verbally and even physically abuse them.

baizhu does not take kindly to people abusing his employees, especially not his chronically ill teenage employee. especially not them.

"Is there an issue I can help with?"

They didn't mind being the only one at reception during the days Herbalist Gui was out, Qiqi was herb-picking, and Baizhu was otherwise occupied. It wasn't a big deal, really.

At least... not until someone particularly impatient decided to make their job difficult.

Baizhu never took kindly to such incidents; this one was no different. Based on his tone of voice alone, it wasn't hard to guess that he was livid, golden irises alight with rage. Even Changsheng had hissed in their defense at the sight in front of her eyes.

He'd come back just in time to see them flinch away from the raised hand of some foreign adventurer.

"This one—"

"And who said I was asking you?" he scoffed, sliding behind the counter and checking them for wounds. They were shaking, he noted, gingerly supporting a fraction of their weight in case they were to collapse. "I was asking my herbalist, [Name]."

Baizhu was a man of patience and, really...

He wasn't all that confrontational. Despite that, any semblance of the supposed cowardice he harbored was gone in an instant.

His scarred fingers drew soothing shapes on their upper arm as he led them into the back of the clinic, guiding them to sit on one of the beds before their legs could give out.

"Are you alright?"

baizhu takes very good care of them after stressful encounters because he knows very well that such high-stress emotional experiences will take a toll on their body.

whenever a wealthier patient comes in, they've learned to overcharge them on purpose even if it's for the most ridiculous of ailments; oh? you say you have been sneezing quite a lot and are having a hard time breathing? no, no, it's not springtime allergies, who told you that? it's quite dire, in fact, and the treatment price will be awfully expensive... oh? you'll pay it? wonderful!

^ herbalist gui says that baizhu is a terrible influence on them sometimes.

in their defense, they get hefty bonuses every time wealthy people pay ridiculous prices for typically rather inexpensive herbs (like a certain ginger harbinger did one time! they still giggle at the memory of him paying so much for so little). the more wealthy people pay, the bigger their bonuses (fatui harbingers are very wealthy...).

simply put, they make more mora than the majority of their family put together because of this morally dubious behavior.

baizhu, gui, qiqi, and [name] are a chaotic found family but yk what? they all make it work <3

please consider reblogging, it helps me out quite a lot!

[suzukiblu]

"understanding" please!

Match knows who Lex Luthor is, obviously. 

He doesn't know why he's here, though. 

"If you don't give me your little side project right now, I'm going to burn you to the ground," Lex Luthor informs the directors pleasantly. Director Beta looks sour. They were married to each other at some point, Match is vaguely aware somewhere in his information uploads. Or might still be? Legally, anyway. 

He really doesn't know. 

Lex Luthor walked into this Agenda lab with just his chauffeur and a single apparent bodyguard who are both wearing miniskirts and high heels and minimally armed at best, but seems absolutely unconcerned about all the guns currently trained on him or the directors' dark expressions. Match expects to be told to kill him shortly, but no one's given any orders yet. 

"And why would we do that?" Director Beta asks dubiously. 

"Really, Erica," Lex Luthor says dryly. "Do you think I'm stupid, or are you just producing any random clone now without so much as glancing at their DNA?" 

"What?" Director Gamma frowns. "What does the project's DNA have to do with anything?" 

"Ironic question to get in a cloning lab," Lex Luthor observes still more dryly. "It's mine. I designed it. You're currently in possession of my intellectual property. So either hand it and all its files over, or I will, again, be burning you to the ground." 

Match has the odd thought that he isn't convinced Lex Luthor won't be burning the Agenda to the ground no matter what they give him. 

Though–he couldn't. Could he? Not even Lex Luthor. 

"Will you now," Director Beta says frostily, and Lex Luthor looks vaguely annoyed and fully exasperated. 

"Hope. Mercy," he says, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket and the knot of his tie. "Keep Project Match from getting himself killed, won't you?" 

"Yes, sir," the chauffeur replies with a smirk as the bodyguard dips her head in a silent nod. They don't seem remotely concerned that Lex Luthor just told them to go take on a half-alien metahuman clone. 

No one tells Match to do anything, so he waits. 

"This really didn't have to be difficult," Lex Luthor says with a put-upon sigh, and four point five seconds later the room is full of robot drones with glowing energy gun barrels and Match is pinned to the floor with the chauffeur and the bodyguard on top of him. They're strong. Stronger than him, he's pretty sure. And definitely better-trained than him too. He can't move his arms or legs or get any leverage, though obviously he could still use his TTK. 

But no one tells him to, so he just keeps waiting. 

"Spence!" Director Alpha shouts, and Director Beta snaps, "Lex–!", and then the shooting starts.

A lot of screaming and chaos happens, but Match still doesn't get given any orders. 

"This brat's concerningly agreeable, actually," the chauffeur muses. 

"Given his genetic profile? Yes," the bodyguard agrees dryly. 

Match could kill them, technically. He's much better with his TTK than his useless "genetic profile" is, and they're both stupid enough to be touching him right now. It wouldn't matter how strong they are if he triggered a stroke or heart attack, after all, and he knows exactly how to. 

But no one tells him to do anything, still, so he doesn't. 

The drones whir and buzz and keep firing. Spence screams. So does Director Gamma, and then a few different guards too. The whole room is all chaos and noise and irritatingly loud. Match wishes everyone would keep it down a little better. 

He doesn't like loud noises. 

He waits with his face pinned to the floor. He can feel most of what's happening in the room with his TTK anyway and hear the rest, so it's not like he actually needs to watch. 

A lot of things happen before the last body hits the floor, but still, no one tells him to do anything. 

And then everything is quiet again, finally, and Match doesn't have to deal with any more loud noises. 

"Anti-climatic, but effective enough," Lex Luthor observes like there wasn't just a screaming firefight in the room. Match feels him adjusting his cuffs again, though he's pretty sure they don't need it. Lex Luthor didn't actually do anything but stand there the whole time his drones were tearing through the guards and the directors were fleeing. Director Gamma didn't make it out; he's dead in his seat. So is Spence, on the floor. 

Match doesn't care about people dying or not, but Spence being dead is . . .

He didn't like Spence. 

Not that he likes anyone, but he didn't like Spence even more than that. 

Lex Luthor turns towards his chauffeur and bodyguard and, incidentally, Match. He tilts his head. 

"You know, I really assumed he'd be more trouble, all things considered," he says as he tucks his hands into his pockets, sounding mildly annoyed about it. Match doesn't understand why he would be. Whatever side project the man's here for, it's all his now. No one's left to stop him. 

Except Match, obviously. 

But no one told him to, so he doesn't. 

He does wonder why Lex Luthor picked him to leave alive for whatever presumable questioning he has in mind, though. A guard would've been less risky, and also easier to threaten. 

They'd care about being tortured or dying, for one thing. 

"Let him up," Lex Luthor says, and the chauffeur and bodyguard get off Match and let him go. He considers just staying on the floor, but the order is implicit, at least. 

And also he doesn't feel like dying on the floor, if he's going to die. He assumes Lex Luthor has questions, and then some sort of kryptonite. It's Lex Luthor, so of course he does.

Match should care about that, probably.

[evelhak]

I’m curious about a few: Propinquity, Anem and Bitchberg (a great name, lol)

Well, you've already read about Bitchberg by now from the previous ask. :D

Lol, I actually winced a little when I saw you asked about "Propinquity" since it's the current working title of my Akashi centric fic, and I know you don't find him that interesting. It's still just a bunch of "notes" (=bits of monologue and dialogue that come to me and I have to write down so I won't forget). I haven't actively started this fic yet, since I can't really write multiple projects at the same time. I will probably have to finish another shorter fic after The Luminous Things, before I get to this one.

I know the opening lines, though:

Winning is like breathing. Sometimes I wake up, gasping for air, but my lungs seem to have fallen into a partial state of paralysis.

Or something fairly close to that. The idea has been in my head for a long time, because I really enjoy digging up ignored dimensions that kind of naturally follow from whatever is going on in canon.

There is of course one thing in this fic that could interest you: The main love interest is an OC. :) You know some things about Azumi already. Here's a snippet that will probably serve as her introduction in the fic:

I absolutely pretended to be the empress of this micro-utopia, growing up. Not because it was mine to conquer, or control. Because it was mine to know. To pick apart. Explore, taste, and merge with. A little pocket of wonder in this huge city, a bubble with its own rules. That's what I came to realise pretty soon, anyway. About the world. How different, how illogical and ultimately unsatisfying it was, compared to my shrine, my home, my own ecosystem, my island of undisturbed ground. It frustrates me that the rest of the world doesn't know how to do it. Live and let live. Give and take. Circle of life. A system that works. Because I was born into it. An heir to it. Happiness.

Micro-utopias are a huge element in my whole fic series as it progresses, and there are several kinds of them, Azumi's home life being its own example. Utopia is generally something I'm really interested to write about, especially because a lot of people claim you can't write interesting utopia without making it dystopia in the end, and I very much disagree with that, as people are always imperfect, so you don't need to add any intentionally awful circumstances for a story to have conflict, if you're writing believable people. For me, the key to what makes the most out of utopia is to centre it around whose utopia it is and why. This got slightly off topic, these are just themes I really like exploring and since my fics are my playground, I definitely use them for exploration of things I might want to write later in a more polished form in my original fiction.

The working title "Propinquity" came while I was writing a chapter in The Luminous Things where Kagami ends up lost in Kyoto (it's complicated) and spends the night in Azumi's place, where he has many enlightening conversations with Akashi. (Azumi and Akashi are already together in my main fic timeline, their own fic will cover how they got together, among other things.)

Here's a snippet from the chapter also titled "Propinquity", which I haven't yet posted anywhere, so things might still change a little, but for now, Akashi muses something like this in it:

"[Propinquity] is the central theme of this shrine. Things develop, and change, and prosper in propinquity. It rings true, doesn’t it? Right things, wrong things… so it really matters what you surround yourself with. It’s not enough to know and think. You have to see, and taste, and touch… A plant wouldn’t grow from the understanding that it needs water, if it never got it. It would still die from poison, no matter how informed it was. Azumi knew all of this, so bone deep. That’s why she was disappointed with the world. That’s why she retreated back to her paradise. I think that’s what caught my attention at first. How she had a physical place to go to when she needed to get away."

I probably would not have developed any need to write a story about Akashi's love life on my own. (Well, it's not all there is to it, but it is a how-they-get-together type of story). It was the influence of my ex, who's a big Akashi fan, and as I have probably said before, Azumi was originally her OC that we worked on together a lot. Eventually I grew attached to Akashi and Azumi together, and now I have my own version of the story.

I don't think I actually read any Akashi x OC fics myself, but my ex read them and complained about them, usually, and I picked up on two pretty common patterns, which I didn't want to do: I didn't want the OC to be 1) poor, or 2) have a similar family dynamic and childhood trauma as Akashi. This is because I wasn't interested in dealing with the power imbalance that tends to come with very different socioeconomic standing, and I also didn't want to write a relationship where people get stuck in validating each other's trauma, and it takes them a long time to grow beyond that phase because their relationship is centred around how similar their experiences are. I wanted to hit that sweet spot which I like the most, a relationship that centres around growth, having enough common ground, and being inspired by things about the other that you've never experienced before, or even believed really exists in the world. The kind of relationship that makes you feel that you want to fill your own gaps, and a key factor in that is the proximity, or, propinquity to a person you can rely on, because they don't have the same weaknesses as you. I just really love writing about people who are good influences to each other.

A lot of this fic will also be about dissociation and trauma. Yay.

Anem, then, is another original novel I've started multiple times without being completely satisfied. The premise is pretty classic religious cult + good girl/bad girl dynamic, or at least would seem like that in the beginning.

Here's how I seem to have described it on my website at some point:

Dina is a good girl. She picks up flowers every morning, to put on the altar of her family’s home. She’s chaste, she’s beautiful. She fears God. Semira is a “Wild One”, she rarely goes to church, she speaks out of turn. She could be beautiful, if her hair wasn’t so short. Dina doesn’t think it’s her job to save Semira. After all, if the Fathers don’t know how to help the girl, how could she? But Dina keeps ending up spending time with Semira anyway, and the more she does, the stronger the big black swirling something grows in her stomach. There’s clearly something very wrong about Semira. And there’s something wrong about the woods surrounding their isolated village. Dina knows she’s supposed to stay away, but Semira keeps going into the woods.

It has a lot bigger world and anything but clear-cut themes and dynamics, even though it may seem like that in the beginning... and it's one of those early projects that are sort of everything, because you're not good at narrowing it down yet. It's like a dystopian supernatural medieval fantasy horror philosophical cult story I wrote just to barf out everything I was thinking in my early years of studying theology. It's certainly a cult story, but is the cult the big bad or the world around it? It's certainly a queer story, but is it a love story or a hate story? It's certainly trying to say something, but what? No one knows, not even me. It's a big mess.

I'm also starting to feel like I'm dealing with every element and theme I have in this story, in some other story too, and coincidentally someone from my writing group actually just got a book published this year that has a strikingly similar setting and themes, (we both wrote them without knowing about each other) and even though it shouldn't, it does kind of add to my confusion to what to do with this story. I do still want to write it at some point, but it's a big question mark that sort of just pops up from below the surface every time I'm not actively thinking or writing about another project.

Some angsty pictures of Dina, also drawn in my early university years (Oh Lord how obvious my Arina Tanemura influences still were in the way I draw):

Yeah... at least they are accurately dramatic to the story.

Thanks for the ask. I hope there was something entertaining. <3

For anyone curious, here's the WIP list.

[mountkennedie]

Touch

Anakin Skywalker x gender neutral reader

Summary: Anakin takes any possible opportunity to hold your hand even if it's improbable

Inspired by a post by @m1ndbrand

Warnings: nothing

*Readers appearance isn't specified*

this is a borderline crack fic tbh

A.N. lol hi sorry for obliterating from reality for like 2 years. my bad.

_______________________________________

"I just don't understand it Anakin," you told your secret boyfriend.

"I like holding your hand, it's warm and soft... like the rest of you." His eyes slowly raked up and down your frame before saying, "I so rarely get to feel your beautiful skin against mine. Please grant me this, my angel."

"I do enjoy it as-well. It's just I don't understand why you feel the need to not only hold everything I carry alongside holding my hand." Your boyfriends entire right arm was filled with bags from a day of shopping. When he could disperse the load by splitting between two arms, he refused. Don't even think about holding something yourself, he says it's in the Jedi way to help those in need, you think he just wants to feel strong.

"Feeling strong is nice but also, I do like helping you," he quipped.

"You Jedis and your mind tricks..." you said playfully.

"You love my mind tricks!"

"Well yes, your use of the force is amusing at times, but stay out of my mind!"

"My apologies, Y/n," he said in a cocky tone. You smiled and squeezed his hand in response.

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

When the two of you were on your way to one of Senator Amidala's charity banquets, Anakin had insisted on driving. Though the Senator had a transport ready to bring you both, he refused yet again.

"Are you sure? We have some of the best pilots available," The senator mused.

"We do appreciate the offer Senator, however we will be able to transport ourselves just fine," Anakin countered politely.

"Alright. Well I do hope to see you both there."

"You will Senator," you insisted.

Padme had always been tolerant of you and Anakin's rather close relationship. Though not knowing many details, being an intelligent woman, she was able to put the pieces together. She never told a soul and Anakin and you were eternally grateful.

Now the night had came. When you both got settled into your transport, Anakin wasted no time holding out an open hand to you. You accepted of course.

Halfway through the ride to get to the event hall, you felt his metallic hand smoothly caress circles on your hand.

"Did you add another update to your arm? It moves even smoother now."

"I did, actually! I was hoping you'd notice. I also made the overall gears in the arm, much quieter so I can be stealthy. And I also..." he continued explaining the different mechanics and things about his arm on the rest of the way to the event hall. Occasionally, you would feel his hand squeeze yours a bit when he got very excited in what he was talking about.

The only time that night when his hand left yours at all that evening, had been when you both had arrived at the banquet.

"One moment," Anakin said in a slightly annoyed voice. He dropped your hand for a moment to exit the transport. You were about to do the same when he beat you to your door. Once it was open he held his hand out again for you to take. You both remained connected the rest of night. Anakin was ecstatic about being able to be so open about your relationship. For one night neither of you had to hide your secret romance from everyone else.

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

"Ani," you began.

"Yes?"

"I need to go to the bathroom." The pair of you had been strolling along in the gardens of Naboo. Padme had been kind yet again to open one of her houses to you and Anakin.

"Of course, let's go."

Upon stepping into the house, you tried to away from his grasp. However, he didn't let go.

"Are you serious?"

"Very."

You scoffed as you took him with you to the bathroom door. "I have to go now."

"You really don't, we can work something out."

"No I don't think we can. But hey," you threw your arms around his neck, and said very softly, "I'll think of you as I go."

"Just as I do for you," he responded just as soft. You two stared at each other for a moment before breaking into laughter.

"Okay I actually really have to go now!"

"Think of me!" Anakin replied as he walked back into the living room.

"Will do!"

[thegreatobsesso]

The Insuppressible Callie Electra Ray update O.o

For Reasons(tm), I have known I'd have to change some names for a long time now. I put it into a box and shoved it in the bottom of my mental closet for years because I'm afraid of change. It gathered dust. Got moldy. Got nested in by bugs. I didn't want to deal with it, so I didn't.

But now that I'm actively querying, the box exploded. Blew up the whole closet. Spewed the contents everywhere. For a full 24 hours there I was actively having an emotional breakdown over the notion of changing fictional people's names. It was extra as hell.

But I woke up this morning hour before the alarm panicking about it and I said, enough. Enough!!! There's nothing left of the original game that inspired me to write the story but some names: Callie, Simon's last name Bennett, and Riley. I love these names, but I didn't choose them. They're the last vestige of connection to a thing I didn't write.

So I'm calling it.

Electra, like Calliope, is a name from Greek mythology - a fact that's important because Callie's mum was from Greece. Instead of the muse, it's one of the Pleiades. A sea nymph, and she's a nympho, who canonically always wanted to see the ocean, and who got to when she was sent to prison (whamp!).

Her terrible father's nickname for her when she was young was canonically jelly bean. I never knew why, that's just what I heard him saying. Turns out, what he really said was Ellie Bean. And she hates having it shaved down to two gentle, assuming syllables.

Electra is name that cuts your mouth on the way out. It's got the fruity mythological connection, and it's also a stripper's name. And even though it's gonna take me awhile to get used to it, I think it's right. I never chose the name Callie. I am giving her this name, and the last chains are broken. She's all mine now. 😈

(She always was. But still.)

Similarly, but less earth-shatteringly, Simon is now headmaster Simon Bell. It feels strangely natural, and very comforting. Dare I say, it's got a nice ring to it. ;D

Riley is, officially, Lena Silver. There is just something shifty about the name Lena that I really like. Like if somebody told you their name was Lena, you'd give them the side-eye, wouldn't you? It's sneaky in a way I can't explain but it just hits right.

All this is to say, I'm excited about this but also still reeling a bit from different everything looks and sounds, and I could really use some support. I would love to hear you love the names. If you don't just don't say anything because I'll curl into the fetal position and sob. :)

[gingergofastboatsmojito]

Shooting for the Michelin stars comes with a price

I keep thinking about the debt.

Walk with me here: In writing when you give your heroes what they want, you make them pay a price, it's not just a plot twist it's a literal "rain on your parade" moment that comes after the honeymoon period, which is usually fairly short in dramedies and it's a full-on breaking point. Meaning: Status quo does not stand a chance. Something's gotta give and usually that happens in the form of a crisis. The usual suspects include (but are not limited to) death, a fire, a trial, and a departure of some sort that doesn't include death but represents the end of an era anyway.

So, outta those possibilities, which are the most common and the ones I think will be brainstormed in The Bear's writers' room, I wish they went for the first one → death.

And here's where I get cutthroat, sorry, some characters make more sense dead. Their deaths mean progress, they are the omen, their wakes are the rites of passage, they help the plot move forward in a way no other plot device would and if handled correctly, they can even serve the ulterior motive of a happy ending (totally Austenian, I know).

Before I get into that full-on, I should clarify that all my musings have only one goal: determine the Sydcarmy friendliness level of a character, scene, storyline, etc. I couldn't care less about what's gonna happen on the show as a whole, I just care about how what may or may not happen on the show is compatible with my Sydcarmy endgame purpose and to what extent exactly? Full stop. The rest of the predictions are fun, sure, but don't really spike my curiosity or interest that much, I can totally live without them. Whilst I have dived into them and nailed some, obviously, it's like watching grass grow for me, IDGAF. The only predictions I truly care about are the Sydcarmy ones, mine and others´, because we have an awesome fandom that really pays attention to detail and treats the matter with the importance it has. It's not just a ship like any other, shipping Sydcarmy became a mission because it's us against the world pretty much, even though we have grown in numbers since The Bear slayed during the past award season, we still need to deal with a lot of 💩💩💩 from the anties and the neutrals and of course, the racists, and the gaslighting cast and crew, so it's literally us against all odds. Hence, I may not agree with everything I read around here all the time, of course, but we are brothers in arms, guys. #RESPECT.

That being said I think Cicero (aka The Godfather) is better off dead so The Bear's debt dies with him. Because, and here's the whole argument I took my sweet time to make, thanks for sticking around:

Source: Chef's pencil.com (2024)

In the graphic above we can see the ever-rising prices the customers have to pay to dine there, those are only the current ones, that graphic will be outdated by fall of this year when menus rotate. Naturally, those numbers are directly proportional to the ever-rising production costs. Besides, let's not forget that when a restaurant is granted a star, to maintain it, it needs to innovate. They can't keep it by doing the same thing they were doing when they were rewarded that star to begin with. If the "inspectors" don't perceive there's enough innovation in the menu the next year, they can remove the star/s that was/were previously granted, that's why retaining stars is a lot harder than getting them. So that equals higher costs, in other words: more money and sometimes, less revenue.

Michelin-star restaurants' costs are always on the rise, always, no matter what. That is why they are usually acquired by "Groups" or corporations that can endure the financial blow of keeping the restaurant operational and still maintain a somewhat solid profit margin. Also, their business model tends to branch out to books, private events or collaborations, etc to get different streams of income, other than the actual dining experience provided to their customers on-site. Usually, all of that has a cost structure that requires the backup of a corporation, and there are investment groups that specialize in providing that kind of support to the restaurants, kind of what Cicero does but at a much larger scale, and legit.

So: when The Bear gets its star (notice I say when and not if) our heroes will get what they want and shortly after will be "payback time", sorry I didn't make the rules. More details that back my assumption about the star can be found here.

What I want and wish to happen is that the "payback" is a crisis along the lines of: "OK, we got the bullshit star but we are still not making ends meet and if we wanna keep it, then that means we are nowhere near paying off the debt we have with The Godfather and thus he will take it all, that was the deal, we are gonna be left with nothing, all of this for nothing -I'm sorry, Syd, but hey! We still have each other, right?-". See the dramedy?

And that leads me to think that if Storer kills Cicero off we will all be happy, The Bear will keep its star (debt free) and will continue operations and Sydcarmy can flourish after that crisis, which most likely strained the relationship but they will be able to make it up.

Unrelated (?) Plus The Godfather, in the movie, really dies and gives the inheritance to his son (Al Pacino). You can watch that death here and I hope I'm not the only one who can see poetry in his death, surrounded by tomatoes on a beautiful sunny day... Awww.

I have plenty of reasons to call Cicero the Godfather but I won't dive into those yet. Raincheck? After watching season 3 I will give Cicero a run for his money if Storer doesn't ax him first as a cliffhanger, that is (which I think would be all kinds of awesome but I won't hold my breath for that one). He's shady, he does "Risky business", I can tell.

Summing up: At the end of S3 we should have a star or James Beard award which is the prequel to a Michelin Star and that will take us straight to payback and the need to tie that loose end either as a cliffhanger in S3 or in S4, which I think will be more like a series finale because I never saw The Bear as a 5 season arc, I always thought that 4 were enough and I was right about the renewal, so even though I hope I'm wrong in thinking there will be no S5, I don't think I am because the story can totally get a great closure in 4 seasons. So, by then, Cicero should be gone and we should be starting to see that in S3.

He should be the price they will all have to pay to get what they want. 🤞

I haven't forgotten about my ulterior agenda:

Level of Sydcarmy friendliness of Cicero's death → 💯

It will secure the restaurant, liberating them from the debt and bringing them closer together because Syd's shoulder can be the shoulder Carmy cries on when the only father figure he has left, after Mikey's death, is gone = 😍.

Remember to follow my tag #Gingerpovs 💋

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Writerly Question Tag

Back from my self-mandated social media break to respond to tags from @urnumber1star, @cowboybrunch, @fortunatetragedy and @the-golden-comet :')

About You

When did you start writing?

Damned if I know. My parents told me that I used to tell my toys stories at bedtime back when I still slept in a cradle, though (I started talking at 6months)

Are the genres/themes you enjoy reading different from the ones you write?

Very different, actually. I love reading sci-fi and almost never touch horror, but I've written tons of horror and only 1 sci-fi. Plus, I hage reading slice of life.

Is there an author (or just a fellow writer!) you want to emulate, or one to whom you’re often compared?

I'm a fan of Mark Lawrence's writing (he's super underrated), and though I'd rather not emulate someone directly, I sure wouldn't mind if someone compared me to him.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space(s)?

The walk to school, the busses and trains I take, walking my dog. Basically on the go.

What’s your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Go out and live my life. Eventually I'll see something cool and insist upon turning it into a short story.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Yeah, it's basically made me physically incapable of writing anyone other than city ppl.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Err... The horrors persist but so do I is a personal favourite among my one-shots. And platonic male-female relationships is another darling of mine.

Your Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favorite character? (Current WIP, past WIP, never used, etc.)

I literally almost never talk about him, but Hans-el, the Spirit Emperor, chews my heart up and spits it out on a regular basis. I'm currently writing a short story from his pov, which I may or may not try to submit for publishing, so I guess look out for that when it happens?

Which of your characters would you be friends with in real life?

Err- I think Hash, Dave and I would be buddies. They're probably the only ones, though.

Which characters would you dislike the most if you met them?

Everyone else. Iraela would get mocked relentlessly by me, Katherine and I would but heads immediately, and I would cheerfully start a gossip war with Luna. And yeah, I would get my ass kicked in every above fight, but that's never stopped me before.

Tell me about the process of coming up with your characters?

They show up whenever the plot demands it, and then headlock me until I write more about them. Alternatively they infiltrate my dreams and haunt me.

Do you notice any reoccurring themes/traits in your characters?

I like people who destroy themselves in blazes of flaming triumph. Also headstrong bitchy women, because I am one.

How do you picture your characters?

I don't lol. My mind just doesn't do the whole 'mental image' thing. I can hear them though.

Your Writing

What’s your reason for writing?

I have nothing better to do with my life.

Is there a specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

If they like something I did with my writing (technique, phrasing, etc) and mention it, I will melt with joy.

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

I just want to be heard.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Description. I don't really do visual descs, but I love nailing voices to the wall and dissecting them.

What have you been frequently told your greatest writing strength is by others?

Description, dialogue (or internal monologue), and gore

How do you feel about your own writing?

I go through the five stages of grief with it: 'oh I'm finally done', 'i love it so much', 'hey maybe I should edit it some more to make it better', 'oh fuck it actually sucks', 'okay nevermind let's never think of it again'

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

I'd be dead too quickly to write, honestly. But if I survive, fuck yeah. I'll scrawl my words across a meadow and scream it from the sky.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy?

Every now and then I cringe from how weird my writing is, but it always passes.

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