#it is akin to when someone compliments my writing

[writersdrug]

omg! I read your goth reader x Simon and I’m not sure if you’ve already made a post but I’d love to see how Simon met reader or how he did pull her 😂😂 love it btw

Augh I've wanted to write more for Simon x Goth!Reader

He drops the 3-pack of men's black t-shirts on the counter, digging into his sweatshirt pocket for his wallet. He takes out his card and looks up.

You're sitting with your back to him, hunched over on a small stool with your face stuck in a mirror. He can see your one eye magnified in the reflection as you held your cheek taught, slowly dragging an eyeliner pen across your lid.

He stands there another moment, wondering if you even know he's behind you. He politely clears his throat.

"One sec." You say, concentrating hard on making the line perfect. You have your mouth hanging open, your one eye closed and the other wide as a dinner plate. Simon huffs quietly. You remind him of a zombie, dressed in a typical retail uniform.

You eventually put the eyeliner pen down and stand, grabbing the shirts from the counter. He watches you as you scan the item - only one of your eyes are done, beautifully enhanced with an artistic flourish of eyeliner, mascara, and eye shadow; your other eye is untouched.

"Is that all?" You ask, looking up at him, and he has to stifle a laugh. Thank goodness for his balaclava.

"Yea." He responds, sticking his card into the reader. You bag his shirts and hand them to him - he accepts the bag and puts his card back, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"Receipt?"

"No thanks."

You nod - he stays there, staring at you with a rather blank expression. You purse your lips and tap the counter, adverting your gaze to anything but him. You were used to getting stares because of your makeup, but this guy in particular wasn't even subtle about it.

"Is that all?" He says, jutting his chin towards you.

You blink, staring back at him. Does he mean my makeup? "Oh- heh, no. Still gotta do my other eye."

He nods. "Looks good."

"Thanks..." You say. You're not sure if he's being honest or sarcastic. But before you have the chance to question it, he turns on his heel and walks out the door, the bell clanging behind him.

You shrug to yourself and sit back down, digging inside your makeup bag for a brow pencil.

You're uncapping your lipstick when someone slaps something on the counter - not aggressively, but it still makes you jump. You turn around to find that same guy from last week, the one with the balaclava and the moody eyes.

You head to the register and look down. There's another pack of black shirts on the counter. You scoff and look up at him. "More? What, are you eating these?" You say as you scan them.

"See you finished your other eye." Simon grumbles, pulling his card from his wallet. "Did it take ya the whole week?"

You glare at him, shoving his shirts into a bag. "It did." You say sarcastically, and he grunts, taking the bag as you hand it to him.

Simon watches as you turn to the side, assuming he was already on his way out the door. You popped the cap off your lipstick and parted your lips in front of the tiny mirror on the counter - he felt something akin to surprise when your lips were smeared in black, rather than the red he was expecting.

You feel a pair of eyes on your back. You turn around - that guy is still there, and you fight back a frown.

"Can I help you with anything else?" You say, trying to stress the weirdness of the situation in your tone.

"I like this." He says, using his free hand to circle his face. "Looks good on you. Unique."

You smile, genuinely pleased with the compliment. Most of the time, if people (other than your friends) weren't ogling at you, they were saying how strange and "ugly" your makeup looked (this was a common comment among the older ladies that came to the store).

"Thanks." You reply. "You want a makeover?"

Simon chuckles quietly. "Nah, not really." And then, as quick as he came, he's gone again - out the door before you can even try to carry a conversation with him.

Simon comes back the next week - this time, for a pack of smokes and some new gloves. Uncharacteristically, he finds himself a little excited to see you again, despite never saying more than fifty words to you in total. He gets to the counter and places his items down - his heart sinks a bit when he isn't greeted by you and your half-finished goth makeup.

An older lady steps forward and scans his items. "Do you have a rewards card with us?"

"No."

Would you like to sigh up for one?"

"No."

She doesn't even look at him as she slides the cigs and glives back to him. "Fifteen twenty-seven."

He slides his card in. He can't help but wonder where you might be; not that he misses you or anything, he's just a curious man. He doesn't like not knowing things, and you're a rather difficult, raven-haired puzzle to decipher.

"S'cuse me, but-" he shifts his weight as he pockets his wallet. "Where's the other girl? Y'know, the one with all the-" he waves his hand in front of his face. "She usually works Thursdays."

The woman looks at him with a tight-lipped, glazed-over expression. "I'm not allowed to share any employee's schedule information, sir." She drones in a monotone, customer service voice.

He blinks for a moment, wracking his brain for a response. "I'm 'er uncle."

"Oh - she quit."

"Really?" Simon says - he's rather upset that you, an artistically-talented cashier he's met twice, is no longer employed at the lackluster retail store. "What happened?"

"Manager told her all that shit had to go." She leans her hip against the counter. "All that ugly face paint - it was freaking the customers out. She threw a hissy fit and stormed out."

He hummed, thiugh he took what she said with a grain of salt. "Right. Thanks." He said, shoving his hands in his pockets.

The woman sighs. "I mean, people paint themselves to look like the devil and expect to be treated like a normal human. Is that crazy, or am I just old?"

Just an old hag. "Dunno." He shrugs.

"Oh-" she holds up a finger, signaling for him to wait as she meanders to the end of the counter. She grabs an envelope and comes back to the cash register, handing it to Simon. "Give this to your niece. She never came back for her last paycheck."

He hesitates, wondering if he should make up some excuse like "Oh I'll tell her to pick it up." But, he said he was her uncle - now he has to deal with the responsibilities of it. He takes the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his sweatshirt. Nodding towards the lady. "I'll make sure she gets it."

Simon hasn't tracked you down yet. Truthfully, he hasn't realy tried to; he wants to respect your privacy and chose not to look for you on social media - but he does frequent the restaraunt across the street from your old workplace, hoping to catch you if you ever decided to come back for your check. He's getting worried at this point - what if you show up and he doesn't see you, and then you start freaking out about getting your paycheck stolen by some random guy? That would be the highlight of his vacation leave. He isn't sure if Price would bail him out of jail for that one.

He's inside the restaraunt today, sitting in a booth and sipping on a mug of tea. Rain pelts against the windows, providing a background of white noise to his ever-active mind. He scrolls through his email on his phone, but as always, he's focused on work. The briefing doming up within the next week, that sergeant that failed the sniper placement, having to listen to Soap talk about how he spent his leave with his girl... it muddled around in his head, nothing staying in the forefront of his mind, but never dissipating, either.

He hears the door open, just as a peal of lighning crashes through the sky. Someone stomps their boots on the entry mat a ways behind Simon, and he hears the jingle of metal with each step towards the bar.

"I'm here for an interview."

Simon nearly snaps his neck with ho hard he turns his head. There you are - you've got your hair down, definitely not as teased as the last time he had seen you. Your makeup is less goth, although you've outlined your lips with a black liner that fades inwards to a crimson red, and your eyes are still sharp and smokey. You're wearing black jeans and a deep, red top, and an interesting pair of boots, decorated with small chains and studs.

Professional, but still incorporating your style. He can appreciate that.

Someone comes out from the back and walks over to you - you shake his extended hand with a smile, and he leads you to a booth farther away from Simon. He thinks he must look like a creep, staring at you in broad (rainy) daylight, but he can't help himself. He doesn't even know why, but you've got his attention like the moon pulls the waves of the ocean.

He stays there for a while - he can't hear every word you say, but he eats the comments and laughs that do filter through with a hungry mind. You sometimes model for any Goth-forward magazines; you're relieved that the owner of the restaurant doesn't care about toning down your style; you're honest - your roommate hadn't paid rent for a month and a half so you let them go, and now you need a little bit more cash than what a measly retail job can provide.

He can hear it in the man's tone: you're hired. He likes your forwardness and unique charm, and frankly, so does Simon. He's addicted to it. The last time anything had his attention like this was when he found out Gaz could do the splits - the shock factor had him surprised with how easily it truly wis to distract him when he comes across something so unusual. But this time, there was less of a ridiculousness, and more of an admiration.

He hears a lilt in the conversation; he turns to see you standing with an excited smile. Of course you would get the job, just look at you. You shake the owner's hand and grab your bag, a black canvas ine with all sorts of studs and spikes, and start heading towards the front door.

Simon can't let you slip away that easily.

"Movin' on from retail?" He says as you pass his booth.

You turn, looking confused, staring at him for a moment. It takes a few seconds before you recognize him, though your smile still holds some wariness to it. "Hey, weirdo...!" You say, standing next to his table. "You stalking me or something?"

He decides to be honest. "Was tryin'."

You furrow your brow an bit, your hands curling around the strap of your bag. "You were?"

"The clerk from the store gave me your check." He clarifies, pulling the envelope from his pocket. "Figured you weren't comin' 'round anytime to get it, so I tried lookin' for ya."

You wonder how this man was somehow able to get your paycheck, but you were a little less put-off. He seemed nice enough. You dropped your bag on the table and took the envelope, shoving it somewhere in your disorganized pockets. "You waiting on someone?" You ask.

"Was you." He comments, taking a sip of his whiskey. "Now, no one." God, he must look pathetic.

"Nice." You slide into the opposite side of the booth, your boots clacking against the legs of the tables. "Want another round? Some fries?" You look at him with those shadowed, big eyes, and he wants to keep you in this booth with him forever.

He chuckles. "You really don't-"

"Don't tell me what to do." You snap with a smirk. "Just choose. Drink, or fries? Or whatever you want, really. I haven't eaten lunch, and you look like interesting company."

He feels himself melting at your cocky, triumphant smirk as you dig around in your bag for your wallet. What did he do for life to deposit such a pretty thing right in his lap (we'll, a few feet away from it)? "Could go for a burger.

You smile, relaxing into the polyester seat. This big, quiet, lumbering thing has you intrigued, and apparently, the feeling is mutual. "What's your name?"

He smirks. He's not wearing his balaclava, but he doesn't really care about that at the moment. He takes a sip of his whiskey. "Simon. Yours?"

[bleedingoptimism]

Wildly, Eddie starts looking forward to Tommy’s weeks with Tarja but only because it means he gets to see Steve when he comes to pick her up and drop her off. Steve lingers in the door every time, makes small talk in a pleasant manner, and always drops a joke or a compliment before going, leaving Eddie with a sigh trapped in his lips and visions of beautiful smiles and red cheeks behind his eyelids.

They become something akin to friends, those little meetings over the threshold becoming longer and longer until Steve just starts coming over for a cup of coffee before leaving with Tarja.

The first time Steve calls Eddie on the phone he is frantic. Rushing and stammering to get the words out. Turns out Tarja had a fever, Steve was panicking and didn’t want to call Tommy because he was in a meeting. When Eddie gets to Tommy’s place, Steve frantically tells him he’d given Tarja a bath, gave her lots of water to drink, cold medicine, and put her to bed but wasn’t sure if he’d done okay or enough and Eddie feels like hugging him, finding his anxious panic incredibly endearing.

He assures Steve he did an excellent job and tells him to offer him some coffee, to distract him and get him to calm down a little.

They talk a lot that afternoon, Eddie asks him about his job, he’s an image consultant and a personal shopper, which Eddie finds fascinating and actually explains why Steve always looks ready to walk down the red carpet. He tells Steve as much and the blush he gets in return makes Eddie feel a little feral. God, he wants to fuck Steve into next week.

In turn, he tells Steve about his job as a writer, explains amusedly what writing for a table game manual entails, and feels like he’s being set on fire with the awed look on Steve’s face. He makes a comment about understanding where Tarja got all his talent and creativity from that makes Eddie’s heart skip a beat.

But he also hears a few things from Steve that worry him, things he’s heard Steve say before in passing. Little comments like ‘Tommy doesn't like if I dress this or that way’, ‘he’ll be impossible if we are late,’ or ‘I don’t interrupt him at work. I’ve learned that lesson,’ and today ‘Thanks, Tommy doesn’t get my job. He thinks it's stupid.’ 

He remembers what Tommy was like and when he met Steve he had hoped maybe he had changed into someone deserving of an angel like Steve... But that didn't seem to be the case. He worries about him because Steve deserves someone better, someone who’d appreciate everything he does, who he is, how much he cares, and not just how he looks, even if his looks are otherwordly. Steve should be worshipped and taken care of, he thinks. And it suddenly hits him, sitting there in his ex's kitchen with his ex's boyfriend, shit, he’s falling for him.

☝️first part

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☕🥐💕?

[the-s1lly-corner]

alright, so i completely understand if you don't wanna do this since you have been getting a lot of tadc requests, so feel free to leave this in your inbox for a while but its worth a shot i guess.

tadc x angel reader? but im not talking about the cute and adoring ones, moresore the bibical angel type. kind of like principalities angels if you know what that is. scary stuff.

thanks for all that you do btw, i love your writing and as a fanfiction writer myself im amazed at how quickly your able to pump out requests

thanks for reading

TADC cast x angel!reader !

took me a hot minute to find it but someone asked for the same/very similar request for zooble so!! that post is going to be linked in place of their segment! yahoo! uhuhuhuh!! admin must admit, he does not know much about actual angel lore so hes gonna be real loose with this </3 aaaand to the last part!! its the silliness... i cant contain it... sobs...

CAINE:

now i dont know what kind of personality the reader has, but imagine your wings stick out and fluff up when he decides hes bold enough to compliment, or even flirt with you... has probably led to him getting smacked by your wings and being sent flying... the price of being small, sadly... though he did kind of have it coming for standing where he was/j

sometimes, you guys fly together, since caine very rarely walks around on the ground and kind of just glides around... its nice having someone who can accompany him around... doesnt think your intimidating, if anything he thinks you look interesting... hes probably unphased by most of the forms circus members may take, though its rare you get someone who does look unsettling... shrugs

POMNI:

honestly probably a little intimidated, and perhaps even unnerved in the beginning. like not in the "im deeply uncomfortable" way but more like "oh. so thats a thing" if that makes sense? does try to be nice and kind to you, though, since she does understand that this isnt what you really look like and you cant really... control it... probably has sneezed from the feathers of your wings, if you have any.. in fact you might have accidentally smacked her with them, since shes so small.. you didnt mean to..! honest! caine and pomni just got cursed with the shortness... no thoughts, only angel reader protectively shielding someone with their wings, this can apply to any of the characters... probably one of my favorite tropes for characters with large wings tbh

RAGATHA:

if you can swap out your clothes or have clothes that are detachable (since clothes are canonically stuck to the bodies) shes definitely going to make you some clothing that you can easily slip over your wings, and still have them out! plus spending time with you making the measurements and trying out patterns and fabric is nice! thinks your wings are soft... probably a little put off by your appearance and vibe at first, but ragatha being ragatha shes not going to let it bother her for long, and she makes sure youre welcomed to the circus with open arms... i mean its not like you have a choice to leave... may as well be as inviting as possible..!

JAX:

drum roll please! its the admins favorite jax headcannon that always rears its head in whenever the admin writes a reader who has some extra body part or fluff or accessories or a combination! the fidget/fiddle headcannon! this man is likely going to stroke and mess with your wings, a lot. congrats, youre his new fidget toy/j. has probably accidentally, or perhaps no so accidentally, pulled a feather out. granted im not sure how much it would hurt, i think it would be akin to plucking hair with a tweezer, but the point still stands..! has probably asked you to fly him up somewhere... totally not so he can do some mischief... probably doesnt know much about angels (like the admin LMAO) and probably labels you as like. sterotypical cartoon angel personality (forgiving, kind, good, ect. basically everything that isnt jax/j) but whether or not thats true its up to you... though it would be a little funny for the person who looks like an angel being a trickster... shrugs

KINGER:

FEAR!!! okay... well i think thats a given when theres a new circus member around, since kinger is a little... eh... you know? probably takes some time to warm up to you, but given how he speaks to pomni in the pilot within the first few minutes of her being there, i dont think it would take long for him to approach you. definitely polite, probably even more so thanks to your angelic appearance. mmngh.. soft feathers... shares the jax fidget headcannon with the silly chess piece... bonus if you actually are really kind and protective, this man would be hovering around you since you kind of represent comfort to him... thinks...

ZOOBLE:

right here!

GANGLE:

while most of the others are a little intimidated i think gangle actually likes the aesthetics of angels. maybe thats just the artist in her; like every artist ive met either has a soft spot for angel or demon characters... sometimes both.. admins no exception, its like. mandatory artist trait/j

i had a winged reader request somewhere, where gangle puts the readers fallen feathers into art work and gifts it to them. kind of like how people used to put the hair of their loved ones in jewelry... i think that would also apply to an angel reader! similar to kinger, if youre protective shes going to gravitate towards you... given that shes made of ribbon and fragile... and because of SOOOOOMEONE (glares at jax)... very nice dynamic/relationship material here, me thinks

[light-yaers]

Take Care: Chapter Fourteen TEASER

here's a lil snippet so you guys know i'm writing. this chapter is gonna be a long one. look out!

You and Jamie headed back to the locker room soon after. As he made his way towards the guys, you stuck to the outer limits of the cinder block walls. Roy was still in the manager's office, his back turned as he spoke to Ted and Beard. You didn’t want to intrude, so you made the decision to cut back into the corridor once more; not to leave, but to wait until the guys were ready for a pint.  You slowly trudged down the familiar corridor that you used to traverse every fucking day. Past the locker room, you approached the gym. Beyond that, your old office still sat. Keeley had recently upgraded to a larger room deeper underneath the Dogtrack, however, so the usual array of pink pillows and her cheetah statue were nowhere to be seen.  You entered through the half open door and walked straight into darkness. The walls were the same, just pinker. The desk was the same, just empty. Whenever you visited this office space after time away you felt the same pull to return. You didn’t care if it had no windows; you’d managed to make it home for nearly a year without any hiccups.  God, you wanted to be back here. Everyone knew it, even Rebecca, but you daren’t take favours. You would never.  A small knock sounded from the door, and you turned back quickly. “Ready to g–? Oh!” you exclaimed. You’d been expecting Sam or Roy, but were met with the still slightly unfamiliar face of Nate. “Sorry, Nate. I thought you were someone else.” “That’s alright,” he said, smiling. “May I come in?”  “Oh,” you spluttered. “Yes, of course. This isn’t my office anymore.” He stepped inside. “No, no, it’s not, is it?” he said, and the tone of his voice was erring on patronising. You opted to ignore it, knowing that he wouldn’t have meant it that way. Surely? The silent pause that flittered between you was very awkward, there was no denying it. It wasn’t that you’d meant to not really know him, but your circle at the club had seemed to travel in one certain direction that you hadn’t been able to control. The guys, Ted, Roy, Rebecca. Not Beard, not Nate. You didn’t mean anything by it innately.  If anything, you were happy that Nate was making himself known to you. You’d love to get to know him more– or more than what you barely knew of him from your time at the club.  “What a great game today, wasn’t it?” you started.  “Oh yes, fantastic game,” said Nate.  “And that thing–” You mimed what had happened on the pitch earlier, which happened to be a middle finger of all things. “That all four of you did to Jamie. Classic, really fucking brilliant.” “Oh yes, the good old middle finger.” Nate copied you in miming what he’d done less than an hour ago. All four coaches had signalled to Tartt what needed to be done, and that signal happened to be swearing at him full-frontally. Four middle fingers had stood up on end, and Tottenham didn’t know what had hit them when Tartt managed to make a goal from just beyond the halfway line.  “You were all absolutely brilliant!” you exclaimed. “I’ve been seeing you in the paper as well, you know? The whole Wonderkid thing.” Nate smiled forcefully. “I definitely said Wunderkind.” “Either way, it’s fantastic you’re getting that recognition.” “Thank you, thank you,” Nate said, taking your compliment graciously; or so you thought. “So, here’s the thing.” He plunged right into his words like he’d had them on standby the entire time.  “Go on,” you urged him happily. “You can’t come to Wembley.”  “What?” you asked, not fully absorbing his words.  Nate stopped smiling. He looked at you sternly, or like you were akin to dirt on his shoe, or whatever else. Your smile turned to a frown instantly.  “You can’t come to Wembley,” Nate repeated. 

TAKE CARE: CHAPTER FOURTEEN COMING VERY SOOOOOON

[katsu28]

hello!! could i request ambrosia from the flower prompt list with roy & gn!reader? thank you <3

my first time writing gn!reader, please let me know if i've made any mistakes! <3

ambrosia: a successful love confession, roy kent x gn!reader, 1.2k

Roy Kent was a lot of things. A legendary footballer, a great coach, an even better uncle. 

Being observant? That wasn’t one of his strong suits. For someone so unnervingly wise, you would’ve thought he’d be, but he wasn’t. Case in point, this little back and forth you’d been having with him for the past few months. You were friends, yes, but you wanted to be more. You thought he would’ve picked up what you were putting down by now, but he hadn’t. 

You’d done everything but throw yourself at him, and he still hadn’t gotten the hint. So now, you were on your last resort—telling him flat out that you fancied him. It was the only way to get it through his thick skull. 

You caught him as he was exiting the locker room this time, calling his name as you jogged towards him. 

His eyebrows flew up in surprise when he spotted you and he held a hand up in greeting. “Hey. You alright?” 

“Good. I’m good, everything’s…” 

“Good?” He supplied, arching a dark brow. You nodded stiffly and he suddenly looked amused at whatever was going on with you. “Glad to hear. You, uh—you look really nice today.” 

He did this all the time. Said or did something that made you think that maybe, just maybe, he might have some more than friendship feelings for you—and then he’d avoid you for the rest of the day. Sometimes even two days. And then he’d be right back at it with the compliments. It was a never ending cycle of the same thing, and quite frankly you were getting tired of it. 

You grabbed Roy’s arm, yanking him across the corridor and into the boot room, letting the door slam shut behind you before whirling around to face him. 

“What the fuck?” 

“I’ve had it with you, Roy.” 

Roy opened his mouth to respond but closed it right after, pressing his lips together in thought before speaking. “Is something wrong?” 

“Is something wrong? Are you fucking kidding me?” 

“...No.” You had to hand it to him, he was doing a good job of looking genuinely confused. His brow furrowed even deeper. “Are you okay?” 

“No, I’m not okay.” You huffed. “I’m in love with you, Roy. And I’ve been trying to drop hints and skirt around the topic hoping that you’d pick up on it, but obviously you haven’t.” 

Roy blinked a few times, processing the new information slowly. “You’re fucking joking.” 

“Why would I even joke about something like this?” You asked shakily, pushing down the feeling of shame creeping through you, threatening to crawl up out of your throat in the form of a pitiful cry. 

This was the worst possible way your plan could’ve gone. Roy didn’t feel the same way about you as you did about him, and now things were weird. You’d probably just fucked up your entire friendship with him, all because you couldn’t keep your fucking feelings in check.

Roy’s mildly amused expression immediately morphed into one akin to horror at the realization that you were entirely serious. “Wait, wait, that’s not what I—I didn’t mean it like that. I just—fuck, I don’t even know what to say.” 

“Maybe start with an actual, thoughtful response? S’not like I just bared my soul to you or anything.” 

He was silent for an agonizingly long time before he inhaled a sharp breath. “I just…I never thought someone like you would ever be interested in someone like me.” 

“How could I not? You care about others even if you don’t show it, you’re passionate about what you do, you’re annoyingly fit.” That last part made Roy straighten up a little bit, dark eyes crinkling at the edges in the tiniest of smiles. “I think I’ve loved you since the day I met you.” 

He just blinked at you some more, like he couldn’t bring himself to believe what was happening right now. That was also something you’d learned about him in the time that you’d known him—the time it had taken you to fall in love with him. 

Roy Kent was a rock. Stagnant. Unwavering. He was the team’s rock, and it helped them to become a top tier Premier League team while also providing a supportive environment for these people he called his friends—his family. 

But being a rock wasn’t always a good thing. Sometimes being a rock meant he was only in his own way of change. He was the reason he believed he didn’t deserve anything good in life. 

You were here to prove him wrong, to prove that he deserved happiness. And maybe it was a little presumptuous of you to assume that you could be a source of that happiness, but neither of you would know if you didn’t at least take that chance. 

Roy was never one for many words, so he did the only thing he could think of that would show you his feelings better than his words ever could. 

He kissed you. 

He kissed you like you’d slip from his grasp at any moment, like if he didn’t hold onto you this all might be a dream and he’d wake up wishing it was real. 

“Fucking hell. Didn’t think I’d ever get to do that.” 

“I wish you’d done it sooner.” 

Roy stifled a snort of laughter, giving you a playful squeeze around the waist. “Me too.” 

“So what now?” 

“We’ll figure it out. Together.” He replied, eyes flicking around your face, taking in each and every one of your features like he was trying to commit you to memory. “And don’t you say a fucking word to anyone, Will. You hear me? Nobody.” He growled, not even looking away from you whilst he spoke. 

Your face grew warm with embarrassment even though you couldn’t see where Will was. You hadn’t even known he was in the room in the first place. Guess the talk about Will the kit man knowing everyone’s secrets had some truth to it after all. 

“No, ‘course I won’t.” The poor boy squeaked from somewhere behind Roy, clutching a pair of boots to his chest with wide eyes. “I’ll take it to my grave.” 

“Good.”

“Thank you, Will,” You offered meekly, peeking over Roy’s shoulder with what you hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“No problem. Happy for you two!” With that, Will practically scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you to finally be alone with each other.  

You smacked Roy’s firm chest halfheartedly, squinting up at him. “You’re so mean to him!” 

“Well I can’t have everyone knowing I’m capable of such a successful love confession, now can I?” 

“Successful? This whole thing was a train wreck, Kent.” 

“Kinda sums us up though, doesn’t it? Wasting the past few months we could’ve had with each other because neither of us wanted to fucking do anything about it?” 

“I guess it does. Not anymore though, right? We’re both on the same page about things? About us?” 

“About offing Will if he tells anyone about what he just witnessed?” You smacked his chest a second time. “Yes, we’re on the same page. Now are you gonna let me take you out to dinner tonight or are we gonna waste even more time?”

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[pinetrees-in-the-water]

what if ej x gn blind reader??😏

Anon your brain is so huge.... Im basically writing fanfic here but AAAAAAA

(Edit: Oh my god I noticed the smirking emoji way too late yall please be specific with wanting NSFW or SFW I was well Into fluff territory before I realized and I still can't tell what anon means, but SFW and NSFW under the cut)

Thank you for the request!!

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

◇EJ x GN! Blind Reader◇

• So EJ CAN see but his vision is more akin to like...cat night vision. Only sees in shades of gray.

• Basically the man is colorblind.

• He takes advantage of it and only hunts in the night, scouting out houses for possible victima to soothe his demonic hunger or or contract kills for The Operator.

• So when he's creeping around a what he thinks is an abandoned house and sees you walking around in the dark, his heart stops.

• Naturally, being blind has led to your other senses improving over time and you're barely able to hear a creak that DEFINATELY wasn't you.

• You grab the kitchen knife and reach for your phone in your pocket just in case you need to dial a neighbor or the cops.

• You hadn't turned around yet so EJ didnt notice you were blind, he tried silently moving towards you to knock you out when-

• "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER I CAN HEAR YOU!" You swung around with the knife in your hand. EJ saw your closed eyes and realized his mistake.

• "Hey hey Im sorry. Im not gonna hurt you. Ill get out right now." He pretty much bolted out the window leaving you confused.

• You DID call someone over to check and yeah...he left.

• Weeks later you found a note in braille at your door apologizing for the incident, you were shocked at the amount of effort this intruder was taking to amend his actions, he also explained that he'd been completely blind before and understood how terrifying it must have been.

• You don't know what possessed you but you wrote back and left your letter in the same place you found his. Thus started a pattern of you both writing back and forth.

• Eventually you both came to care alot for each other, you found out he was a part of a sort of task force and had killed before, but he wanted to "Spare you the gory details" so you didn't find out more for a while.

• He started helping you in small ways, fetching you groceries, running small errands since it was a hassle to get around with your condition, you aporefuated the kindess that was rare from other people. And slowly started falling for him, and maybe it was the way he wrote, soft yet deep voice or his constant compliments but it felt like he was falling for you too.

• Even though you couldn't see him, you wanted to meet him again in person (without the breaking and entering) and tell him how you felt. And so you did.

• He agreed but something was off even as you both laughed in the kitchen while baking, his hands..no his skin was ice cold. And even if he was talking and laughing with you he seemed unusually nervous, you could hear the tapping off his foot.

• When yoy asked him if somethibg was wrong he couldn't take it anymore and broke. He told you about his past and qhen he was turned in college, the ritual that put a demon inside of him and how he had no choice but to break into morgues and scout for the "morallly corrupt" so the demon had a source of food, it had turned him into a cannibal.

• At first you thought he was making fun of you and that it was some kind of joke, but before you could get mad his chilled hands took yours.

• "Do you trust me? Ill show you... I promise im not lying"

•You dont know what made you say yes but you did. He took your hands and put them on his face so you could feel his features which were definately human..and after you were done his face started to morph, skin splitting and his jaw unhinging to reveal what felt like razor-sharp teeth.

• His mouth closed as soon as it opened. He tried pulling away and running but you didn't want him to this time.

SFW:

• As said above Jack loves providing acts of service for you. Groceries? Cooking? Cleaning? call him your malewife because he's doing ALL of it.

• Of course he doesn't treat you like some helpless child and respects when you qant to do things yourself but still always offers just in case.

• After you both properly get together and you know his past hes noticibly more physically affectionate while making sure not to startle or scare you with sudden touches.

• Takes EXTRA precaution to make sure youre out of The Operator's radar since youre at a bit of a disadvantage (a tad overprotective)

• kisses you on your eyelids (kicking my legs and screaming)

NSFW:

• Regardless of who he's with he's a soft dom (Im tired of yall slandering my man's name HES A SWEET BOY.)

•Jack is so gentle. Mainly because he's terrified of doing something wrong.

•He's a big boy at 6'5 so a good chance hes taller than you, and hes somewhat muscular too so he's aware theres a huge imbalance in your relationship and checks in on you every once in a while to make sure youre okay with him doing anything.

• He has 3 tongues.....need I say more?

•Goes down on you VERY often, somwtimes gets a bit carried away and overstimulates you

•Even if you can't see him he ALWAYS ALWAYS compliments how pretty/handsome you look during sex.

• Sensory deprivation but just....always.

• Despite being majorly soft that doesn't mean hes not an absolute tease in bed. 100% makes you beg. And definately takes advantage of tue fact that you cant see what he's gonna do next.(Will feel guilty if you accuse him of bullying you for being blind)

[cosmichorrorsarestillnicerthanme]

How about Love prompt 47 with Rin tohsaka and Mordred. I'm really loving your writing

I thank you for the compliment my friend, but there are a great many far better at this than I and my scribbles of broad ideas.

NOW YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND!

Love Prompt #47- You're Cute When Your Angry

Rin Tohsaka

Rin Tohsaka was infamous as the Red Devil for a great many reasons, the least of these being her quick temper.

Especially when a certain blonde woman who for protective purposes will not be named was involved.

Case in point, the current situation you were in at the moment.

“ARGH! THAT BLONDE BIMBO BITCH!” the voice of a certain dark haired woman shouted to the heavens in a rage, her face a mix between a snarl and a mouth barred closed in a rage with an all consuming angry fire burning in them.

“Oh don’t let her get to you Rin.” you told the woman next to you in a weak attempt to get her to calm down.

After all, seeing her like this? It was a treat that only you could enjoy completely.

“Do you think if I blew a few extra holes into her anyone would notice!?” Rin hissed out the mean idea.

“Hmm… maybe a few people.” you responded with a smile. You might like to see Rin angry, but knowing how she can get it may be time to actually get her to calm down before she actually decides to commit premeditated murder.

Rin let out a growl, akin to that of a feral cat.

Then again, you could wait just a little while more, right? It wasn’t like she would actually try and murder she who will not be named.

Rin was naturally cute, but when she was angry? That was a whole other level of Adorable.

Rin went ramrod straight before whipping her entire body around to look you in the eye, a blush on her face.

Oh, you said that aloud didn’t you?

Mordred Pendragon

Mordred was furious.

This was her week off, but of course someone needed her to come in at the last fucking moment!

Hell the only reason Mordred hadn't gotten the wild hair to go out on a “Enthusiastic Walk” was because of what you said when you saw her face when she got the call.

“Oh you are downright adorable when you're angry~!” your voice cooed in her head for the thirtieth time today.

“Hey! Mordred! Sor- EEP!” Gareth began to call out before being silenced by Mordred who turned on her foot with an expression on her face that screamed “If you try to talk with me you are dead.” 

This was also known as her angry face.

A face that only you weren’t put off by.

You really were insufferable, but Mordred wouldn’t dare have you any other way.

After all, the love you gave her, it was something that had been foreign for her entire life up until she met you.

She felt like she was in one of those horrendous books Tristan would force her to read at arrow point.

Whenever she was with you she was always nervous like someone was going to jump out from behind something, except instead of watching her surroundings she obsessed over every detail she could see about you while her stomach did a full aerial acrobatics routine.

And don’t get her started when you say something like you did this morning, she was out the door as fast as a bolt of lightning, her face aflame with embarrassment and your wonderful laugh following her like a ghost on the wind.

God… she really was hopelessly in love with you wasn’t she?

The most wonderful curse had been inflicted upon the both of you by each other, and Mordred wouldn’t have it any other way.

[silverbladexyz]

Can you do Kaeya with a character who has a traumatic past and like how he comforts them?

Hello there! Thank you for requesting 💗 Reader's past isn't specified, and this is my first time writing for him, so sorry if it's bad :')

The image does not belong to me. It belongs to its original owner.

TW: Mentions of trauma

Kaeya comforting reader with a traumatic past (platonic)

-I think how he comforts you actually depends on how close you are with him

-If you are only acquaintances, Kaeya will most likely offer you some words of support, letting you know that he's more than happy to be there for you even if he didn't know you that well

-But let's say that you are good friends with him. Kaeya as a friend is fun, charming, witty, interesting, and never fails to make you laugh and keep you hooked in a conversation

-It isn't long before he knows nearly all of your secrets; he has a charm that makes people tell him everything without a lot of effort from him. While he may tease you a bit on some of your more embarrassing secrets, he won't use them for any bad stuff

-But one thing you never told him was your traumatic past. While you loved him almost like a brother, there are some things that even the closest siblings don't share with each other. Whenever somebody brought up the topic of your past, you merely deflected the question with a well-constructed lie that pretty much satisfied most people

-Kaeya isn't fooled by your lies; he does the same too whenever his past is brought up. He notices how you slightly avoid eye contact when you lie, and he also notices how your voice wavers just the slightest bit when it is almost unnoticeable

-As we all know, he is an expert at reading people, so after a few interactions and observations, he is pretty much able to deduce that you had a traumatic past of some sort, and you wanted to keep it hidden from everyone else

-He won't ask you or pry too much about your past. He himself had a pretty traumatising one as well, and he knows perfectly well how things like these were preferred to be kept a secret. However, just because you might not tell him doesn't mean that he couldn't do anything to help you. After he's figured it out, he'll just slightly, slightly, be more softer around you, and might even aid you with some more of your stuff

-Kaeya will also spend more time around you too. You were going to take on a commission? Nice, he's going with you too. You needed help? He's there to support you and help you. You needed some advice? Ask no more, because Kaeya is full of some of the best advice in Mondstadt. It is basically his way of telling you that he's there for you, even if it's hidden in the most common actions such as always remembering to check up on you and indirectly complimenting you more as well

-It is most likely you that will tell him about your past, when you are finally ready. You see, even when Kaeya doesn't want to ask you in fear that you'll be upset, part of him is still curious on what had happened to you way before you met him

-So when you finally tell him, he's unusually silent. The teasing and calculating side of him is gone; instead, you see a much softer and empathetic Kaeya, that not even his other friends in the Knights of Favonius had the privilege of seeing

-He is a smooth talker with a silver tongue, yet each word that falls out of his mouth now is genuine. Kaeya still keeps his usual light and clear voice, but it is laced with comfort and love akin to that of a brother

'Hey... I know it's been tough for you. You didn't deserve to go through all of that. Nobody does. But I'm proud of you, you know that? Despite what you've went through, despite having faced all sorts of horrible and unspeakable things, you still fought on. Like a true warrior. And please, talk to me if you are ever in need of a shoulder to cry on or just someone to talk to. Afterall, what am I if I can't even help my dear friend and drinking buddy?~ Alright, jokes aside, what I'm saying is that you don't have to deal with this alone. I'll be here for you, always.'

-He'll lightly put his hand on your shoulder and give it a small reassuring squeeze. His fingers are slightly cold; they're always cold due to his cryo vision, but the smile that he's giving you is warm and gentle

-After that, Kaeya is still his usual self around you, but he is slightly more protective of you. He doesn't want you to go through even more pain that you've already experienced, so safe to say that he'll be hanging around with you more now. Even if he's away for a mission, he'll still ask someone to make sure that you were safe

-His presence was something that you look forward to more everyday now; just knowing that he will always be there when you need him lights a beacon in your once dark world

-You couldn't have met another friend that was like Kaeya. And Kaeya could say the same about you too

So how did I go with writing Kaeya's personality? He's kind of a hard character for me to grasp, but feel free to leave advice for improvement :)

@circinuus @chuuyas-beloved @dazaiyohane @overlysour @i-just-like-goats

[forasecondtherewedwon]

remember it once - chapter three

Fandom: The Artful Dodger Pairing: Jack x Belle Rating: T (will change) Chapter: 3 / 7 Word Count: 2900

For today's @dodgerfoxweek prompt: love letters/banter

read on tumblr: one | two

The months are long without her. Jack finds himself softening towards Sneed of all people. Following the lifesaving procedure Jack performed on Belle, Sneed has demonstrated a genuine interest in bettering his basic surgical skills and acquiring the more advanced techniques he lacks. He’s still superior, still snide, still essentially Sneed, but now he listens to Jack’s ideas and, occasionally, compliments him on his successful surgeries.

The number of successful surgeries has been increasing steadily since Belle introduced ether and carbolic acid, and with Sneed cooperating, the two doctors are able to work side by side in the theatre on the same patient. This frequently shortens surgery time, which has manifold resulting benefits: decreased blood loss, reduced risk of death from time spent under anaesthesia, shorter duration for Jack and Sneed to endure each other’s presence. Strangely, the situation has become something akin to… training each other. When Prof goes, the hospital’s power structure should actually change for the better, with two capable surgeons sharing their knowledge. Sneed will be Jack’s reliable right hand, and Jack has dreams of bringing in new doctors who will contribute to the pooling of information rather than existing in competition with one another and risking lives in the process.

Of course, it isn’t a completely smooth partnership. Sneed can be awfully Sneedy at times. Whenever he makes a dig about Jack’s reading, Jack urges him to put his own educated shoulder to the wheel to see if he can find the cure for being an insufferable git. Someone really should, he insists while watching Sneed’s mustache twitch with restrained petulance, in this day and age.

Unless he’s tending to his patients, Jack keeps his evenings for himself. He’s trying not to gamble, not to drink too much (admittedly, “too much” is an inconstant measure), not to say yes to Fagin’s more suspicious plans; anything he claims is “foolproof” is particularly to be avoided. It isn’t exciting, but nothing really is without her.

Just once during the four-month voyage that carries Belle to England, a letter is delivered to Jack. Well, it’s delivered onto another ship, to the postmaster in Port Victory, to Government house, into Fanny’s hands, and she turns up at the hospital—to his initial confusion. Since Fanny escaped marriage to the Lettuce, Jack isn’t aware of any renewed interest in Sneed. He doesn’t understand what she’s doing here. When she says she’s received a letter, he imagines the very worst and feels his face drain of blood, but Fanny launches into a description of Belle’s experiences thus far. By her tone, Jack slowly recognizes that this letter was not followed by a note about Lady Belle Fox’s tragic burial at sea. He exhales. Even though Fanny feels that she’s communicated everything, Jack asks her to read the letter. He wants to hear Belle’s words.

Tell Jack I would write to him if Mother was not watching me like a hawk, Belle writes. I forgive her, only because we have been two months at sea and even the pastimes which were initially the most novel have become dully familiar. Without a full household staff to command—and Father, crucially Father—her attention falls heavily on me. She tells me to do my embroidery and study my Latin instead of the anatomy texts she finds “vulgar” and “revolting.” This is most amusing, considering her own pricked fingers and the seasickness that rears its head whenever she attempts to read for an extended period.

“It sounds dreadful,” Jack remarks, crossing his arms.

“But you were in the Navy!” Fanny protests. “Don’t you love the sea?”

“I didn’t mean the sea.”

She may be willfully ignoring the implication that he was talking about her mother.

It is not recommended that I stand on deck, Fanny reads on, but after I had done it once, I was determined to return. Fanny, it takes the breath from one’s lungs. Blue. Everywhere. To be in constant motion, harvesting the energy of the waves. Some mornings—

“Isn’t it dangerous?”

Jack’s vision had unfocused as he listened, reintroduced to the sea he’d made his career upon through Belle’s eyes. He realizes the question is Fanny’s and blinks.

“Which part?”

“All that dreadful… air! The wet!”

“Keep reading.”

Fanny sulks but lifts the paper once again.

Some mornings, I catch the dawn. The sky is the blackest thing you can imagine, and then, suddenly, the ship and all of us onboard are born into the world. I believe we are hardly real between sunset and sunrise. Colours seem to seep up from the horizon as though the paintings you love so much have been washed in the distant water, fleshy pinks and bitter oranges rise and bleed. It is the most vital thing I have ever seen. I only wish Jack were with me. Tell him, Fanny. I can hardly believe I won’t sail from one shore and meet him at another…

“It becomes a bit… romantic,” Fanny explains, not exactly bashful, but certainly aware that she is privy to something Belle and Jack would ideally keep to themselves. “Would you like to read the rest alone?”

Ah. Then it is uncomfortable.

Before he can speak, Jack watches Fanny’s eyes widen as she recalls the disastrous dinner. She’s about to assume (only because Sneed bloody announced as much) he can’t read. He heads her off, quiet and flushed while he explains that it is difficult, not impossible. Easier when words are written clearly with plenty of space, more difficult when someone’s handwriting is cramped and smudged. He can read. It just takes time, but he will spend time on Belle, he will sit with her letter and focus and squint in order to relieve Fanny of her messenger duties.

“But what about when you want to write back?” Fanny asks, eyes searching but kind.

“I’ll ask—” But who will he ask to correspond with his fiancée on his behalf? Fanny is probably the best choice as she’s keen to support their romance, but she’s nosy. He might (he does) want to say things that only Belle’s eyes will read.

“Oh! I have already thought of something much better!” Fanny gushes. Jack hasn’t yet had the opportunity to suggest a single name.

—

“It is the images that I find so very awful,” Fanny explains, supporting this assertion with a grimace as she pages past an illustration of a grotesquely swollen tongue, “but it was the images Belle seemed to like best, of late.”

She’s installed him in her sister’s room. One of Belle’s medical texts is open on her desk, and the pair of them stand over it in contemplation. The Governor is in town and the household staff are either entirely disinterested in what Lady Fanny and Dr. Dawkins might be doing in Lady Belle’s bedroom or else they don’t care a whit. Even if they did care, Jack thinks, what are they to do about it? Most of them probably can’t read any better than he can, if at all. They certainly won’t be writing to Lady Fox to inform her of the young doctor’s latest misdeed.

“What do you think?” Fanny asks.

“I couldn’t overstate their usefulness,” Jack says, turning a few pages himself. “And I suppose they are things of beauty, when done well.” He traces graceful lines of musculature. “The detail shows an interest in precision and care, which I can certainly relate to.”

“Not of the images themselves,” Fanny complains, closing the volume with sudden petulance. “My idea! Drawing to Belle instead of writing to her!”

“I’m not sure I have your… skill,” he states cautiously, recalling Fanny’s very memorable trees. “Not to mention your instruction. You must have had tutors?”

“I did have one, but he was quite rigid. We had a difference of taste.”

“I see.”

“Have you ever drawn?” she wonders.

“A little,” Jack admits. At last, he removes his hat, setting it on the desk. He brushes a hand through his hair. “We surgeons try to keep notes of our surgeries—successful and not. Often, Hetty will take dictation for me, but if she’s busy, or the procedure’s something I did by feel rather than by sight, it can be easier for me to try to sketch what I remember.���

Fanny smiles encouragingly.

“Try, then.”

This is how he removes his coat and pulls up a chair. It is how he casts his eyes over the pencils and sticks of charcoal, the messy potted watercolours, before reaching out to touch the tools with his fingertips. Jack doesn’t notice when Fanny leaves him to it, but at some point, there is a cup of tea on the desk into which he accidentally dips a brush. He doesn’t realize until he fills his mouth with the chalky flavour of diluted paint.

It's his own palm he’s attempting to represent. He curls and opens his hand, studying the toughened skin. In his mind, he peels back time, scrubs away the callouses to peel back his very skin, remembering his palm ripped open from the ropes on the first ship on which he sailed. Jack sketches the ragged edges of the injury, the glow of abrasion. With a sodden brush, he dips into the red, then swipes across the paper, watching the wound bleed as the water spreads. He wrings some of the water out before applying more paint to the spot, getting the colour rich and real and—

Fanny shrieks from behind him.

“How awful! I mean, excellent.” She smiles in apology. “I wish I had never seen it, and I mean that as the most sincere compliment.”

“I understand. I appreciate your opinion.”

“Do you?” She looks genuinely surprised. “I can see why Belle fancies you.”

It really isn’t his place to tell his fiancée’s sister she should expect more than basic respect from any man she’d hope to marry, so he doesn’t. Fanny is much more assured in the advice she gives to him, offering blunt criticism as she points to different parts of his creation. Not unkind though.

“Again soon?” she asks when she’s done and he’s standing to go, realizing he has paint soaked into the sleeves he didn’t roll up his arms soon enough. Unusual. It’s normally blood there.

Jack nods.

—

While he’s still learning, Belle’s letters begin arriving from London. Fanny dutifully shares each one. Now that Belle has more freedom to write—physical freedom, without her mother looking over her shoulder—each letter contains the sentence “Fanny, stop reading.” Jack appreciates the honesty of Fanny reading this line aloud, though she does also frown at being excluded from the rest.

The rest.

It has to be Fanny who explained, and Jack is grateful for it. The remainder of Belle’s letters are written larger, with spaces between the letters, each word cleanly executed on the page. They’re legible, specifically for him, exactly how he told Fanny a letter would need to be to lessen his struggle.

At last, he has an account of her longing firsthand. She doesn’t speak of the engagement—there is still a risk that Fanny would spy the word, even if she weren’t intentionally snooping—but it’s clear she isn’t only writing to an acquaintance, a friend, a fellow student of the human body. That Belle refers to well enough, perhaps dangerously so, but it’s all in Latin. The switch from one language to another stumps Jack at first, but he learns to watch out for it. In Latin, Belle is both formal and erotic, and Jack finds himself angling her letters away from the eyes of Hetty and Fagin, though neither knows the language. While Belle’s sentences are stiff, the parts of the body she employs Latin to address—parts of his body, and hers, frequently imagined together—evoke visceral memories. The dusty old language can be surprisingly sensual, Jack finds, when Belle writes of skin on skin.

He responds with broken bones, chipped teeth, dislocated jaws—drawings of all the latest cases to pass through his ward, everything Belle’s missing. It’s when he’s replicating the twisting line of stitches he threaded into an elbow the other day that he has the idea to embellish beyond paint; Jack pokes through her belongings (sorry, Belle) until he discovers her embroidery thread. After that, his art becomes vivid in a way that almost astounds him, even as he jabs the needle through the page. He lays a skin-coloured wash on an arm, then raises a blue vein down its length. He adds fibre ribs to open cadavers, creeping lines of red to blood-shot eyes. When he gathers both Fanny’s art supplies and his strength to recreate the surgery he’ll remember for the rest of his days, he brings Belle’s aorta to life in crimson before sewing in the noose that ties it off. I love you, he tries his best to say. I love you all the way through.

—

Dearest Jack,

I must tell you immediately, or with as much immediacy as a letter from Britain to Australia can allow, that my mother and I will be home in Port Victory sooner than we had planned. Therefore, do not suspect me of neglecting our correspondence if you do not hear from me with the regularity to which we have both grown accustomed. I may be boarding a ship within the week. I fear my mother is being overly cautious, but as an earlier departure is to my benefit, I was hardly about to protest. The responsibility for her agitated state is mine, as I will unfold.

I’ve told you of my time at the University College Hospital here in London. As access to the hospital was key to my mother getting me here, she has allowed me to maintain a standing appointment with staff. I have observed so much and taken copious notes. Your letters also inspired me to seek out a young nurse here, who I was told had something of a talent for drawing. I’ve paid her to illustrate my notes, so that we might more easily replicate these new techniques on our patients when I am back.

Though I miss you terribly—you know I do, Jack, do not be too jealous of London’s sick and injured, monopolize my time though they may—there has been so much to learn that I was deeply frustrated by the wave of sickness that suddenly swept the city. Before you leap to chastise my response, yes, I know it was a selfish one. You see, at home, you might have called on me to help mitigate the spread of illness. Here, I am an indulged guest. I may be present at surgeries and question patient doctors, but in the case of an outbreak, I am denied entry. Foolishly, I complained about this to my mother. Rather than commiserate with me over the injustice of my being shut out when I have the time, inclination, and very possibly the skills necessary to help, she determined they were quite right to bar me. A mere two days later, she decided we had better leave them to it and sail for home while our own health is still sound.

This does not mean I have seen nothing, and, Jack, I am not so selfish as to hope this illness reaches Port Victory. It appears to be neither influenza nor typhoid. I may have been able to diagnose it with closer study, but such a thing was denied me. At least these male doctors cannot separate me from my books; I have already begun packing my trunks with all the latest literature. I know you will make time for me so that we can discuss things properly. It is an enormous comfort.

It's been more than half a year since our separation began, yet I doubt you have forgotten what awaits us upon my return. My mother will see how you have flourished in your role as Head Surgeon, and she will know how steadfast our love has been. I believe our engagement has lasted long enough. I long for us to be united in all ways.

Yours across oceans,

Belle

—

The months are slower than ever, but not even Sneed on his crankiest day can bother Jack now. When Prof finally stepped aside, as recognition for his substantial contributions to the health of the colony (To the death rate, more like, Jack thought, but resisted impertinence just this once), he was allowed to maintain his residence in the house meant to be passed between head surgeons. Braced for the worst, Jack was surprised that this didn’t mean he wouldn’t be offered the things his predecessor had enjoyed.

Instead, they built him a new house.

The day he was granted his own bed is still clear in Jack’s mind, the day he was given his own quarters at the hospital even clearer. An entire house is so overwhelming that he puts off moving in. He’s afraid of the strange and terrible objects that will fill it—spoons in the kitchen and settees in the parlour. Innumerable trinkets for Fagin to nick, no doubt. Jack will have to pretend to mind, because the best thing that will be in the house will be Belle. He can’t imagine being concerned about much else.

He takes to strolling down to the dock each morning. On one of them, Belle’s ship comes in.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Disobedience & Body Worship - Aredhel x Celegorm

My dear @elentarial, thank you so much for this prompt!

It was tremendously fun to write! I hope you'll like it <3 Tyelko is such a brat, but I think he's got what was coming to him haha <3

Words: 1 050

Characters: Aredhel x Celegorm

Warnings: Seduction, nudity, sexual innuendo, reference to genitals, Tyelko is a brat!

“Got you!” Aredhel hooted as she seemed to float through the air for a breathless moment before barrelling into her cousin’s broad, muscular back to toss him to the ground in an avalanche of sweat-sheened flesh and silver hair. “That means I win, and you have to do what I say!”

Of course, she was bending and adapting the rules of their little intimate training ritual somewhat, but she really needed someone to take her place in the archery lesson she had promised her brothers.

It was not that she didn’t love them, but she lacked the patience and they the necessary finesse for such an endeavour not to inevitably end in blood and tears.

“No.” The single word rang out like the tolling of a bell and hit her in the chest like a poisoned arrow, setting her blood aflame with outrage and ire.

“What do you mean by that?” she asked sharply while burying her hand in Celegorm’s mussed hair to press his handsome face into the loamy ground forcefully.

She was faster than him, but he was still stronger when it came to brute force, and so he threw himself around, catching her wrists as he twisted, and stared up at her with twinkling eyes.

“I’ve got you as much as you’ve got me,” he growled playfully.

“You are a disobedient, disorderly brat, Tyelko,” she huffed. “No wonder your brothers don’t like you!”

To her dismay, he laughed heartily and winked at her. “My brothers adore me, and so do you!”

Forcing her wrist to his face, he pressed an astonishingly tender kiss to the thin, sensitive skin under which her pulse was racing after the long, arduous chase.

“Disobedient? How about you teach me a lesson then?” he teased, his large, powerful frame relaxing provocatively between her tense thighs. “I am all yours, oh queen of the hunters!”

“Don’t mock me!” she hissed, but she could discern the earnest admiration and smouldering lust in the bright radiance of his unguarded gaze, and it mellowed her ferocious heart. “As I can’t and won’t deny your prowess, I shall withdraw the humiliating task and choose something that might feel a little bit like a victory to you too! All I ask is that you keep perfectly still!”

“I shall be your paralysed prey!” Celegorm promised—he took immense pleasure in the intimate, morally ambiguous covenant they shared, and he did not object to being hunted, caught, and torn apart by his cousin every once in a while.

With a satisfied hum, Aredhel slid off him to stand, relishing the fact that—for once—she was towering over him.

“You’re a pest,” she sighed. “But Eru knows, you’re too pretty to banish from my company!”

Celegorm gave an acquiescent hum; unlike some of his brothers, he did not think of himself as particularly vain, but he, nevertheless, wasn’t beyond basking in compliments, especially if they were delivered in so reluctantly awed a voice.

“Undress!” Aredhel commanded, and he obeyed readily, casting off the clammy leather and soiled linen with careless vigour. He knew not what she had in mind, but he liked the direction this was taking.

“Ah, those shoulders,” Aredhel sighed, leaning forward to run her hands along the ropes of muscles bunching in Celegorm’s arms as he remembered her previous command not to move unless prompted.

“You have good skin, Tyelko. You’d make perfect leather!” Short, blunt nails dug into his upper body ruthlessly, leaving red streaks akin to war paint, and he shivered violently.

“I am sure that I can speak for my whole family when I say that Anairë’s blessing far outweighs whatever charm our blotchy, pale flesh might hold,” he replied in a sensual purr.

Visibly pleased, Aredhel stepped closer to let her soft, plush lips brush against the bulging vein, pulsating frantically, that ran along Celegorm’s throat like a beckoning river that promised a cleaning torrent of delight.

“So strong,” she hummed as her hands travelled along his ribs to caress his hips and cup his ass playfully. “So fast—but never quick enough.”

“I let you win,” he grinned, “because I like it when you take me down.”

Nudging her knee against his quickly filling cock, she chuckled quietly. “Apparently, you also enjoy being told how handsome and alluring you are, don’t you?”

“By you? Yes! Whether you insult me or shower me with praise,” he rasped, “I shall always drink your words like fresh water on an arid day.”

“Why?” she cocked her head inquisitively, letting her long braids cascade across a deceivingly slender shoulder.

A thousand answers came to Celegorm—Aredhel was the most beautiful, the most skilled, the funniest, and his best friend besides Curufin—but he swallowed them all down resolutely.

“Because I respect you,” he finally replied with overwhelming simplicity. “Because I honour and heed your words.”

At once, her lips were on his and her hands tugged at his hair mercilessly to put him off-balance so she could crowd him against a nearby tree and claim every part of that gloriously unvanquished body of his.

Nobody other than them would have understood, but the way she recited a prayer to Oromë, enumerating the pieces of valuable, life-giving meat she’d carve off his bones in her imagination made him stifle a visceral groan of pure delight.

Her hands were steady and firm as she rolled his flesh between her fingers, punctuating each probing touch with a fleeting kiss before moving on.

“Do you think I’ll learn humility under torture?” he gasped, irrevocably aroused and writhing in agony as she kept ignoring and neglecting the parts of him that demanded her attention.

Celegorm felt unbecomingly flushed and swollen all over, and he was convinced that he’d soon burst with unfulfilled lust if she did not take pity on his wayward heart and woefully dumb body.

“So pretty,” she praised, her damp breath fanning maddeningly across his heated skin, “so desperate. Say it!”

“You’ve won,” he whimpered. “You always win—I am yours. I shall do what you demand, and I shall thank you for the opportunity to serve you. Please, Rissë, please!”

And, in the name of friendship and shared greed, she finally relented and opened her lips to accept the first cut of fresh, raw meat that was the victorious hunter’s due.

@fellowshipofthefics here's another one!

I am still taking requests for this <3

Lots of love and well-wishes!

-> Masterlist

[fraternum-momentum]

Hi! Just came to your blog recently for the DOL but stayed for your art and just you, because you’re so fun to watch (not creepy at all :>)

Anyways, as a fellow artist, I feel you because I’m almost never satisfied with my art, but I found a way to kind of overcome it? This is just a suggestion, I can’t guarantee it works, but it works for me :>

If you don’t feel good about your illustrations, you can take a break from drawing, but taking a break from drawing doesn’t mean you have to take a break from art. Art comes in many forms, For me it’s collage digitally, and taking pictures of random stuff, if I feel old I even crochet dolls of my OCs and make ugly little shirts for them. The idea is that the joy of making things isn’t hung by a string but many strings into a net to catch our fall? if that makes sense lol.

Usually after doing this, I go back to drawing, and I’d find that I forgot how to draw, but after a little while it comes back, and I usually find my art a bit different from what it was.

I’m sorry for such a long ask, or if I come off as weird. I love your art and your humor vv much, the way you draw bodies is so appealing I feel the need to practice more anatomy so I can one day achieve the beauty of yours. I even started my own dol art blog because of you lol. I look forward to what you have in the future, but take all the time you want off to feel better and drink lots of water<3

I like to think I'm some kind of bacteria on a petri dish when you mentioned that you like to watch me LMAODAOD i didn't think i would be someone interesting to observe AWJHFA

But thank you for the suggestion !! I'm trying to look into more hobbies that aren't necesarily art ! I'm getting back into writing again and I've been planning out the story for the witch gf + killer gf idea because I eventually want to make it like a test trial webcomic? thing? So i can get a grasp on what it's like working on one, since I have a bigger personal project in the works. I'm also getting back into studying tarot again, which is p cool :]

Crocheting seems super cute tho 🥺 I really want to try it out ! The same goes for knitting as well !! I wanna be that one granny in the corner knitting little sweaters and scarves on my rocking chair (retirement goals fr)

I don't know when I'll get back into drawing again though, which is something that's been worrying me for a bit but it's probably just paranoia causing me to unecessarily worry abt things.

And don't apologize for sending a long ask ! It's not weird !! I like to imagine it as something akin to replying to a pen pal AHFBJ it's nice to learn abt you as well even if it's in anon :D And thank you for the compliment !!!! Anatomy is super fun to learn and i hope you grow to love it as much as i do :]] And I'm super glad I got you into making your own blog as well WAAAAAAAAAAA i hope you're having fun so far :DDDDD Also don't overwork and stress yourself out too much and stay hydrated as well 🫶

[subskz]

warning: a very chaotic essay about bb below

from the beginning, reading butterfly bandage made me feel like i’ve been transported into a bubble universe of sorts. there were so many different threads running through the story that i was curious about, and with the last part, you wrapped them all up into a neat little bow. it was such a well-rounded, intricately-written story !! ✩

a big thank you to seo changbin for showing up to his lecture woefully unprepared and picking to use the reader’s sanrio pencil that day, as it would ultimately end up setting off the chain of events that caused chan & the reader to find each other; truly the backbone of this entire fic 🙌😭💕 when you described his shy smile as, “unexpected, coming from someone who looked like he bent iron bars for fun” 💀💀 binnie’s antics were completely on-point. i loved the dynamic between him & the reader so much. they gave us the perfect comedic relief (which was much-needed at some points in the story 😭)

i love the premise of university aus so much, i am truly so simple

this is a super minute thing, but i always loved seeing the ʚïɞ symbols at the start and in the dividing lines when reading bb; it’s just so cute 😭

also do not think that their apartment being numbered 8-325 slipped past us!! i noticed a lot of parallels hidden throughout, and to me, they are a testament to just how much thought went into writing this~! ♡ the continuous occurrences of inexplicable heat like when they first met, or the random burning feeling in the reader’s thumb without even knowing chan got cut there too; the metaphor of them being akin to binary stars; their discussions about twin flames… i loved all the themes you wove into the story, everything fell together so beautifully. chan and the reader really are twin flames, mirror souls, bound together by the red string of fate to reveal the other’s true reflection to them for the first time.

also, i think you hit quite a few of us in our soft spots with the reader’s self-effacing temperament and her history of broken relationships :,) the amount of parallels i found between chan, the reader and myself… she just like me fr. it made me think what you might’ve went through in order to be able to depict the gravity and nuances of those sorts of emotions so well ㅠ_ㅠ when the reader merges paths with chan who, for once, wants to be her equal, it feels so deserved. also, the overflowing fondness that the reader has for all the channie-isms is so sweet n accurate 😭💞 you crafted such a beautiful universe, and you did such an excellent job characterising everyone.

i still can’t get over how plainly obvious you were about your true feelings in your initial introduction of lino 💀 taking a whole paragraph just to describe his ethereal beauty (i would do the same thing)

i loved 3racha’s performance too — i’m paboracha-biased (although seungmo and innie have been making me act up recently) with the biggest weakness ever for hannie, so the brief cameo part with him where he was described as shamelessly reading his own lyrics off his phone sent me 😭😭😭 the little details like those were another display of how much care was put into the fic and made it even more special to read ♡

the making out in the bathroom at the party afterwards as well was so vkvjjxifxutsdut the slight possessiveness was so hot… ♡

and when channie and the reader had their first time, the reader being like, “oh. he was loud.” 💀💀💀 so real, he is so cute hhhhvknvvcj, and his praise kink but simultaneous extreme inability to take compliments wounds my heart. you write him so well 😭 how much i wanna build up channie’s self-esteem until he realises how others see him !!

also i’ve gotta say, as others have pointed out already too, you were seriously out for blood with the scene where chan cries while eating the reader out… i’ve never felt so conflicted 😭 the timing to be a dacryphiliac has truly never been worse LMAOOO because my heart was shattering at all the terrifyingly sad things he was repeating fo himself and i just wanted to scoop the lil channie mash potato boy up and be like “no baby, it’s okay, don’t cry”, but ALSO at the same time, that was so hot wtf </3

then to follow that up with THE BATHING SCENE… you are crazy (affectionate). i have never felt so soft omg… he is so infuriatingly lovable and it’s crazy he can’t see it. i’m glad he finally got someone like the reader who he can gradually learn how to release some of his burdens with. 🥺

“…as if he was afraid that now that you’d discovered a side to him that dared to be anything less than accommodating—anything less than convenient for you—you’d pack up and leave without a second thought.” OUCH

you wrote so many beautiful and heart-wrenching lines throughout this 😭

and LEE MINHO… ㅡㅡ why is he like this. the feminine urge to rail the brat out of him, my god. he is a lil meow meow fucking menace, that’s for sure. as much as he singlehandedly destroyed everything, he was only acting the way he did out of the (misguided) instinct to protect chan… :( the way he begrudgingly made amends with the reader at the end 😭 in my imagination, they patched up their relationship over time despite his enormous fuck-up and became friends again

i read part 4 as soon as it was posted, and i was genuinely reeling afterwards, questioning why you were doing this to us 😭 but it felt strangely cathartic, to watch the house of cards they had stacked up out of fear of ever leaning on each other, finally crumbling apart, because now, they can restart and build their relationship with a secure foundation that allows for a balanced exchange of emotions between them, and protects the wellbeing of them both ♡

anyway i’m so sorry that this ask is longer than the reader’s physics textbook 😭 this story broke me apart in the best way possible, and then put me right back together again. it’s such a well-rounded work, n i hope you’re proud of yourself 🫶

— 🌸

oh my god 😭😭😭😭 when you said to expect an essay abt bb from you i had no idea just how much u meant it…i can’t believe all the thought and care you’ve put into this, thank you so much for taking the time to write out such a detailed, heartfelt message!

as i was mapping out the story, i found myself wondering at times if i’d be able to tie up all the loose ends bc there was just so much going on in so many different places…so to hear you say that it was wrapped up nicely means so much to me!! the fact that u even took notice of all those threads and kept track of them throughout the series is also very touching to me! thank u for being invested enough to do so, it’s sincerely the best feeling <3

SEO CHANGBIN!!! our dear leo boy…he is absolutely the backbone of this entire fic u are so correct. where would we be without his questionable academic decisions n his accidental matchmaking skills…even when he’s not the main character he is always the star of the show!! 🥰 i’m delighted u liked that line abt him LOL binnie’s softness n silliness in contrast to his tough appearance is the most endearing thing on earth to me, so i hoped to capture a bit of that lovable personality of his! i think i had such a blast writing his scenes for exactly the reason you mentioned…it was really nice to write his lighthearted antics w the reader amidst the heavier parts of the story, so i couldn’t be happier that his role brought the same relief for you!! ^_^

i’m such a sucker for university aus as well…so simple but so many things to love abt them! and it’s very sweet of u to point out the butterfly symbols! i figured i should take the theme and run w it hehe i’m glad u found it to be a cute detail ♡

there was no way i couldn’t sprinkle in those skz easter eggs here n there…like a lil secret we’re all in on 😽 yes! many details in bb are kinda meant to parallel aspects of skz in reality, esp channie’s struggles in predebut (im going off on a tangent here but that’s also why i chose 3racha’s placebo as the song chan was working on! i feel like it gives so much insight on his state of mind at the time) it’s really meaningful to me that u caught on to all those recurring themes and connected them w ease in the story! and the binary stars…when i learned abt them n how they orbit each other so closely and rapidly, to the point where they can even exchange materials through tidal interactions and influence each other’s evolution…i just couldn’t resist adding it into the story hehe it felt too fitting for how channie n the reader take on parts of each other and change for the better! you are so incredibly kind and observant thank u so much, you’ve really read this w a keen eye and i’m so grateful!

in sharing bb i was hoping there might be someone out there who could relate to its central conflict, but i was taken aback by just how many ppl’s experiences it seemed to align w ㅠ knowing it resonated w you as well both fills my heart and tugs at it…i know i said this before but this series was kinda like a love letter to everyone who is like channie n the reader, so i really hope u found some solace in its message 💗 “chan, who, for once, wants to be her equal” u really got me w this…that’s exactly it isnt it ㅠㅠ the balanced, endless cycle of love that they both deserve!! and the channieisms…it’s only right that the reader adores him and all his cute lil habits just as much as we do!! characterization is always the most important thing to me above all, so thank u so much for saying that it's the highest compliment!

HELPP LMAO i will never be free from that paragraph describing lino’s first appearance huh…if there’s any moment in the story where tumblr user rin subskz is speaking instead of the reader…it’s definitely that 😭 very embarrassing for me but seeing that u are paboracha biased i feel a lil better at least…u know firsthand what it’s like to be bewitched body and soul by lee minho

i’m so thrilled u liked the section abt 3racha’s performance! i debated even describing it in detail for a while bc i wasnt sure if it was necessary…but i ultimately decided it wouldn’t be right to skip over since it led into what happens later! HANNIE <3 it makes me happy that moment got a giggle out of u lol i really wish i could’ve included more scenes w him…applying the scatterbrained genius energy of trainee jisung to the context of an exhausted uni student wouldve been very fun! and once again, the fact that u paid attention to lil things like that is so fulfilling to me <33

the idea of the bathroom scene w the reader feeling a lil possessive was actually what initially sparked the plot point of the party in my head 😭 and YES w the way chan sounds like he’s getting the soul sucked out of him UNPROVOKED on a daily basis…i just had to make him the loudest most vocal most reactive baby on earth there was no other way!! it makes me so happy that u felt he was written well, thank you so much ♡ praise kink and channie just go hand in hand dont they…u described it perfectly that combo of being so desperate for approval but so easily flustered is just irresistible

hehehe channie crying while giving head was truly my equivalent of sending out a bat signal to all fellow dacryphiliacs 🙏 the little channie mash potato boy…..please ㅠㅠㅠㅠ i’m very sorry for the conflicting emotions that scene sparked in u it was a lil evil of me…i even gave myself some psychic dmg while writing it but at least u know u werent alone in that internal battle!! n i’m happy it had the desired effect~ <3 the bathing scene!! truly just a fraction of the love n care he deserves…and as u said it’s crazy he cant see it!!! he just needs to be shaken lovingly and violently by the shoulders until the idea gets through his beautiful head -_-;

i feel like the sentence u pointed out really describes bb chan’s mindset in a nutshell, how he sees himself as someone to be used rather than to be loved ㅠㅠ my apologies again for the misery haha but i’m glad to know there were lines that could touch ur heart!

LEE MINHO!!! he took his role of meow meow menace very seriously as u can see…though i personally think he had a good reason for being so cold to the reader (maybe leeknowism plagues me even fictionally) he definitely put those defensive walls up far too quickly without knowing the full story…though can we blame him after he’s seen the same cycle repeat time n time again (yes actually) in an alternate alternate universe, the brat was railed out of him n everyone lived happily every after <3 but yes, i hope him realizing he had to be the one to round up these lovesick losers made him a lil less insufferable for u at the end haha! that’s so sweet to think abt as well…i’d also like to believe that the reader is forgiving enough to give him a second chance and they eventually became genuine friends! bound by their mutual love for channie ♡ maybe she can finally tell him what she thought of that anime he recced her…

hehe i really wish i didnt have to split bb4 up and leave u guys hanging for a bit like that…but the hand of god (tumblr text block limit) interfered 💔 describing chan and the reader’s relationship as a house of cards is absolutely perfect!! very tentatively built and full of care and attention to detail, but ultimately very fragile bc their idea of love wasn’t sustainable. a balanced exchange of emotions!! you’ve worded it so beautifully, it makes me very giddy that you got the core message through and through

please don’t apologize!! if anything i’m so honored and grateful that you immersed urself in the story and had such lovely, thoughtful things to say abt it. i must’ve thanked u a million times in this response but again, thank you so much!i it means the world to me that you entered this lil bb universe and that u enjoyed it 💗💗💗

[franstastic-ideas]

Your writing style is pretty eloquent and sometimes kind of fancy, you're good at describing things (especially feelings), and even when reading things without knowing your thought process, the care you put into your words tends to show through them (and that's another thing I like about your writing style. Where did you get such a big brain to store so much accurate vocabulary?)

You make it look so effortless most people probably can't tell you were fighting for your life when writing any given Thing™

My writing style sometimes isn't as eloquent when responding to compliments about my work.

But something I think I can say is that I look at dictionaries very often, and synonyms, while carrying the same meaning, can have extremely different feelings attached.

For example, 'disgruntled' brings to mind a different mental image than 'exasperated' to me. The former, I think of it being less severe than the latter. It comes off as being more grumpy and suffering in relative silence, while exasperation sounds more akin to someone nearing the end of their rope.

And it's pondering which words would best suit the situation at hand as well as the characters involved that causes me to frequently 'fight for my life' when writing.

@sinisterlutist @absinthe-of-midnight

[mllemouse]

writing this here to get it out quickly tw sex and relationships

the best man and i were texting today when i mentioned i used to have blonde hair and sent him a photo of it. then he continued to compliment my black hair and how i looked at the wedding and said he had started the movie i just recommended to him but was distracted by --- i guess imagining me and remembering how i looked at the wedding. and stuff...

i WANT to be super flattered and into it and reciprocate but instead, i started having a little bit of a panic attack and i fully got shooting pains in my shoulder and back, as well as a tight chest and heart palpitations. i threw my phone aside and couldn't pick it back up even though we were mid-convo, which i feel bad about.

like, consciously, i want this attention. but i'm uncomfortable with not feeling like i can reciprocate in an articulate manner. i just spent like an hour talking about Barbie and Bama Rush, like i know i can be articulate. but when someone expresses undeniable attraction to me? i clam up and panic.

i immediately thought about this in the context of questioning my attraction to men, like most of the men i've slept with or been in a relationship with i actually haven't been physically attracted to. but they pursued me and i liked the attention and care. however, i am definitely attracted to C, F, and now this guy. Like -- these are the only men i've been with who, when I look at them, i'm pleasantly surprised that I don't have questioning thoughts running through my head and it's been more of like, wow yeah this person is so magnetic and i'm lucky to spend time with them. the best man is probably the furthest away from conventionally attractive of the three of them and i caught myself thinking like, i'm not supposed to be so attracted to this person BUT I AM. which i interpreted as a very good, healthy thing to recognize and act upon.

but now i'm in the same shit where i'm panicking because someone showed an interest in me.

idk. is it my sexual trauma? do i inherently just not trust men? i think that's a plausible explanation. regardless, i don't know what to do in the situation or how to respond.

i'm not sure how to explain myself because it feels SO unduly complicated for the situation at hand. i'm feeling like he doesn't know me, he doesn't know i'm on testosterone, which has implications for a potential long-term relationship. he doesn't know i have a history with sexual trauma. he doesn't know i'm non-monogamous and kind of involved with C, even though that's complicated as well.

l think there may be something to the idea that he was so attracted to me all dressed up, in a way that i find to be more akin to drag than an expression of the self? idk. when i put on a dress and makeup, i can acknowledge that i look very beautiful. to me, it's a bit spooky. to many men, it's like... they lose a bit of control or regard for decorum, and they HAVE to tell me. this is flattering at best and dangerous at worst. it's flattering when i'm trying to look good for someone and they respond accordingly, like i feel satisfied that i knew what they would find attractive and i made myself into that. on the other hand, people have assaulted me in the street using the excuse that i was too gorgeous and they couldn't help themselves.

[violininalab]

HOOGA – Cinnamon & Sandalwood (Gourmand series)

"Immerse in the indulging smell of spicy cinnamon with a touch of sandalwood that reminds of a bitter sweet treat."

Greetings, everyone! I'm Caitlyn, and welcome to my blog. This is my very first post here, where I plan to share my collection of candles and lighters. [Occasionally, I would also post some pictures of my drinks in cafés, and write more informally about my thoughts, it's all about the indulgence and life's nuances in this blog.] I might have a bit of an obsession with candles and lighters, I collect all sorts of scented candles, as well as cool lighters, and I'm more than eager to share my collection–as well as my opinion–here. I hope you'd find my collection interesting, and feel free to comment or ask me anything!

For the candle the I'd be introducing to you all today, it's the Cinnamon & Sandalwood candle from HOOGA, which is a part of its Gourmand series. This series features other candles that all give a very "pastel" and soft aesthetic. This candle, as the name suggests, is supposed to smell of "spicy cinnamon with a touch of sandalwood". And I'd say that it does in fact smell exactly as the description describes it as.

This candle definitely has a very strong cinnamon flavour to it. The first thing you'd probably notice about this candle is that it has an especially rich and uniquely thick spicy cinnamon scent, which I personally like. The cinnamon scent leans towards the more spice-heavy side, I'd say. "Cinnamon" scents usually fall on a spectrum where, on one end, they have a sweeter, softer scent akin to vanilla, and the other end a more spice-y scent. I'd safely put this candle in the latter group. This is also likely due how sandalwood, the other key scent as the name suggests, is a pretty spice-centric, vivid, and earthy scent in general. They compliment each other really well.

I like how the candle transforms my boring and serious room a dozen times more cozy and warm. I'd describe the overall atmosphere of the scent as kind of "heavy" and "spicy". A thing with "cozy" candles, in my experience, is that they tend to have a heavy, lingering scent when burned. It's not a bad thing at all, and sometimes it can add to a snug and sultry atmosphere. I wouldn't say that I particularly like or dislike that, but if you're someone who loves "cozy" and "warm" vibes from the candle, I think that this candle would be just right for you. One thing that sets this candle apart from the usual sweet and snuggly ones is the very distinctive and unique smell of spices. So if you love that as well, it might just be the perfect candle for you. However, I must say that the smell can be a little overpowering, so I'd advise that you put it further away.

Cinnamon & Sandalwood burns decently, certainly not the most even, which is one of the things I didn't like that much about it. It certainly wasn't bad, but for someone who cares quite a bit about how even a candle burns, it's not too good in that aspect. [I'm just picky, haha, it's objectively not too bad.] But hey, it's a new candle, perhaps it'd get better as I burn it more. I must say, it does have an awfully stable flame. The wick was also a little bit frayed and dry when new–which is not uncommon–but it did not affect the overall burn at all.

Overall, I'd rate HOOGA's Cinnamon & Sandalwood a solid 7.5/10. I'm not the biggest fan of how overpowering the spice can get, but I do still like how it compliments the cozy atmosphere in a unique way. Also do wish that it could burn just a tad bit more evenly.

It's also decently priced candle, so, all in all, if you're looking for a decent candle that offers a cozy but spicy vibe, this one's a great choice.

[P.S. Oh man, am I too early for this whole cozy cinnamon spice autumn vibe jawn?]

[drhoneyandelley]

How can we balance love and differences in values within a marriage?

I love my honey hubby. It's overwhelming love, seriously so much that I’ve never seen this side of myself before. I never forget about when we first met (this is another time) also never forget that I LOVE fashion and labels like Louis Vuitton, Dior, Moschino, Hugo Boss... these are my forever lovers. Oh let me add Philippe Matignon in my tights collection. My life has always been accompanied by luxury brands. I suspect I’ve loved dressing up since I was in my mother’s womb, so much so that as soon as I became aware like 4 years old, I was content wearing my mother’s high-heeled pumps at the door. However, a problem arose when I married someone who loves to discern the essence of things rather than their labels. (Of course, I have no intention of criticizing luxury brands. I acknowledge that their exceptional craftsmanship, backed by a long history, results in designs and quality that are truly unique. In fact, my husband also seeks high quality and owns various luxury brand products.) However, naturally, this led to a battle between my brand-oriented self and my husband, a clash of fundamental values. What do you do in such a situation?

To reconcile our fundamental differences in values, we made an effort to thoroughly discuss and understand why each of us held our beliefs. Through this process, instead of completely abandoning our own values to accommodate the other, we gradually moved towards each other, learning to understand and respect our differing values and incorporating them into our own. It’s akin to taking the best of both worlds. What’s important is not to strive for perfect understanding and respect, but to let things go as long as each of us is reasonably satisfied. To accept things as they are. And the most important thing to remember is that, despite minor frictions and differences in values, we must not forget that we love each other. There is nothing greater than the most profound love. To love is the most beautiful thing. We must not forget this, nor get trapped by the obstacles that lie before us. For there is nothing more important than striving to protect our love for one another.

As a solution, basically I’ve chosen to purchase my luxury items with my own money, not my husband’s. He does not care about the money but it's not a point of money but my pride as a fashion lover and a wife. I believe that the money he earns with such dedication should be spent in a way that brings him comfort. Even when buying with my own funds, I practice moderation. I carefully consider whether an item is worth purchasing, if it suits me, or if I already own something similar. More importantly, I make it a point to purchase luxury items with the future in mind, regardless of my age. I carefully consider whether I will continue to use the brand throughout my life before making a decision. (When I make a purchase, I feel it’s only right to utilize it fully. Letting luxury items sleep in the closet seems almost unfair to them.) This investment-minded scrutiny is crucial, especially since my husband is a doctor also an investor. Adopting his perspective is not only about understanding him but also valuing his approach. And he, in turn, compliments how well the luxury items suit me when I wear them happily. When both partners show compassion, there’s no need to give up either a love for collecting brands or a happy marriage. I’ve managed to have both!

I could keep writing forevermore about fashion and love, but It’s time to start the prep work for the stewed meat dish with Disaronno. I like this unique and one of a kind flavor enriches stewed.

I love, therefore I am.

I wear, therefore I am.