#like in my heart I'm going up to the writers like

[thegamingcatmom]

@groovestrawberry Thank you so much for your words. They mean a lot. Especially because I'm prone to taking stuff way too seriously, so I really appreciate the reminder to just chill tf out. 😅❤️

Right so, onto your questions!

1) the last sentence you wrote

"It didn’t take long for your heart to pick up its frantic rhythm once more, terror seizing you anew at the horrible realization that, who…whatever was chasing you, it had been close enough for you to feel it."

Wrote that only yesterday. 💪

6) the word that appears the most in your current draft

(This is Chapter 4 btw.)

17) talk about your writing and editing process

Oh boy, what to say. Where to start.

I mean, I tend to take things a bit too seriously, as mentioned before. Which means I'll sometimes go over a sentence or paragraph until it no longer makes sense to me, lol. I know it's probably fine as is and ppl are gonna enjoy it anyway, so this is a habit of mine I'm working on. Also because, in my experience, whatever your brain comes up with after you first get your thoughts on paper, it most likely won't be as good as what you first came up with, so you end up going back to the OG anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So ye, editing ain't fun, but it must be done because I'm really not happy with some of the stuff my old self has come up with. 🙃

As for the writing: This goes hand in hand with editing, actually. First things first though: Music. Most important. If I have a song I can vibe to and it fits the mood and all, then it's going rather smoothly. But, even then, I'm by no means a "fast" writer. Even when vibing, I'm still hyper focused on not making mistakes and especially using the correct tense (something I find surprisingly difficult when you're actually focused on it, lol). So, just like with editing, I'll read over a section a few hundred times before I proceed. I know some say it's more important to just get that first draft done and correct any mistakes after but, honestly? When a chapter is done, I wanna post it, not spend another few hours/days/weeks editing stuff. 🤷🏻‍♀️

So ye, writing and editing is more or less the same for me because it happens simultanously. Or it will, once I'm done with editing TBRH (The Bumpy Road Home) and things go back to "normal." 😅

What else to say...hm, I guess a few other "quirks" of mine when writing are:

Writing out a piece of dialogue and putting it somewhere on the page to use later because I just know that if I don't do that, whatever I come up with instead (because my ass forgot half of what I originally came up with) won't be as slapping. OG always wins and all. 😉

Pausing to take a breather because I get so immersed in the scene, I actually need a moment to process it. (I read somewhere that someone referred to it as "zoomies." This was more in the sense of reading a fic and coming across a section so damn good, you need a moment to process it. But, sometimes, this is very much the case for writers too. 🫠)

Looking up images, videos etc. of the ppl or things I'm writing about. For Chapter 4 of TBRH, the Denali house was my trusty companion. Just chilling in the background (aka: another tab), lol.

Starting on another scene even though I haven't finished the current one because I just need to know what happens next. (Yes, I'm aware I'm the writer.)

Well, that's all I can come up with for the moment. I'm sure there's more and maybe I'll post it at some point. ✌️

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Thanks a lot for your questions and your lovely words! 💋

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[lisbeth-kk]

As proposed by @fluffbruary, I have made a Valentine's rec list. Now that I've read through it, It seems to have become more of a love letter...

First of all, I want to thank someone special in the Sherlock fandom - the remarkably talented podficcer extraordinaire @podfixx There isn't a day that goes by without that comforting voice weaving its way to my heart and core. Picking a favourite is almost impossible, because every single one is a gem. But, there is one I will promote a little extra on this romantic day.

The Wedding Garments by cwb

Summary: This is the story of a young consulting detective who wants nothing to do with marriage and an army doctor who wants to find true love. It's 2020 post-Brexit England and the British government is encouraging arranged marriages. Candidates meet through state-run agencies and date in hopes of finding love (and tax benefits). Sherlock doesn't need or want a spouse, at least not until John Watson shows up. Hesitant to give in to his more carnal urges because of the way they derail his mind, how will Sherlock progress toward the more intimate aspects of a relationship? The answer lies in a very special wedding gift.

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There are authors and fics out there that get less attention than they deserve. This story is just one example of that. It's utterly sweet and there's a dog! Sherlock's dog. Please, give it some love!

Late Nigh Emergency by consult_this_prick

Summary: Sherlock shows up late one night with his sick dog at the doors of John's veterinarian clinic.

There is a collection on AO3 I want to direct your attention to. It's called Johnlock on Holiday in FTH 2024 The title says it all, really. Perhaps you'll find some holiday tips.

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Of course, you don't won't to miss anything the giants of this fandom has written. (I'm only going to name a few of them)

Kaleidoscope by @totallysilvergirl

The Last Envoy by @calaisreno

John Watson's Big Adventure by @mydogwatson

The Wisteria Tree by @silentauroriamthereal

A Quiet Life by @discordantwords

The Silence Between the Notes by @jbaillier

Lost in a Good Book by @khorazir

To Stand Before the Storm by @arwamachine

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Honourable mentions of writers that never dissapoint:

A Strange Encounter by @holmesianlove

Rache (German for Revenge) by @blogstandbygo

By the Bi by @keirgreeneyes

When the Worst Parts Begins by @thalialunacy

Without Complexities or Pride by @raina-at

White Pony Tattoo by @meetinginsamarra

The Murder of Sir Emory J. Amat by @chriscalledmesweetie

Kinesis by @stellacartography

An Experiment in Ethanol by @the-reading-lemon

Like a Man by @hubblegleeflower

The Gilded Cage by @the-pen-pot

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It wont't do to forget the fantastic artists this fandom is so lucky to be blessed with. Go visit their blog to see their portfolio.

@petite-madame @bluebellofbakerstreet @helloliriels @justanobsessedpan @gooolabatooo @ceruleanmindpalace @nitaelwyart @a-victorian-girl @starrosea

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And last, but certainly not least, the fandom's librarian, the keeper of lists for every possible and impossible prompt, AU, trope, etc - Steph @inevitably-johnlocked

*************************************************************

We have a saying where I live: no one mentioned, no one forgotten, and I am certain that I have forgotten many amazing people, but not mentioning anyone would undermine the task completely, so there's that. It is what it is...

Much love to you all!

[unwantedthots]

Captive Bird | Caleb x Reader

- genre : smut, porn, slight plot, feelings, creampie, cum, dirty talk

- writer: Ive literally NEVER written smut before but ive read a couple and felt like i wanted to write it lol. This is my first ever time writing this so PLEASE bare with me in the new territory im learning lol. Im sorry if its not that long or all jumbly <333

———————————————————————————

"You don’t need me?"

Caleb’s breath hitched, his eyes burning with hurt and fury. "Is that what you think?" His voice wavered, but the desperation in it only grew. "Then tell me—what do you need?" He leaned in closer, his grip tightening. "We can go back to Linkon if you want. We can rebuild our old home. If a house isn’t enough, I’ll build you an entire maze filled with everything you want. No one will ever find you again. I’ll protect you forever."

His gaze bore into yours, searching and pleading for any sign of understanding. His emotions spiraled out of control. And by the time he realized it, he was already too far gone.

You stare at caleb with a stern look and shake your head, trying to wiggly out of his grasp but its no use. “You acting like this, you really think this is how you will get me to stay?” you spewed. Caleb and you hardly argued but when you did it was pure emotion. “I haven’t seen you in months, you show up out of the blue and bark orders at me?”

Caleb's hands twitched against your wrists, his grip loosening significantly at their words. His violet eyes darkened, the depth of his feelings plainly visible. "You think I want to act like this? That I'm doing this because I enjoy it?" The tension in his voice was palpable, the intensity behind his words making the air in the room grow heavy.

“Everything I have done has been to protect you” He growled, throwing his hand to the side. His stare was deep, penetrating, his eyebrows furrowed, jaw clenched. “You just don’t see it. You’re too stubborn.”

You rolled your eyes. “I didnt need protecting.” You spat trying to shove him off, but he didnt budge. ��You forced ME to stay here. You kept secrets.” You argued poking your finger into his sternum. “You.. you died. You left me and made me believe you were dead.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving your face. Then slowly, he leaned back, finally releasing your wrists. His hand ran through his messy dark hair, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Caleb.. I-" You spoke bringing down your tone. He brought his hand up to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. His touch was as gentle as ever, showing a stark contrast to the harshness of their argument.

You moved your head from his hand

"I don't want you to stay because I'm forcing you to," he added, his gaze sincere. "I want you to stay because you want to… because you can't imagine being anywhere else. Because you feel safe with me."

You moved away from his touch, but slowly began to let him do as he pleased. His prior frustrated facial expression had turned to a soft gaze.

His fingers gently trailed down your cheek, his touch feather-light. Despite their argument, despite the storm brewing outside, this was the Caleb, you knew. Not the ruthless Farspace Fleet Colonel. Not the man who would manipulate situations for his own benefit. Just Caleb, the man who cared for you more than anything else.

"But if I'm not the one who makes you feel safe anymore…" he trailed off, his gaze dropping to his lap. "If all I bring you is pain and misery… Then maybe it's best if you do leave. Maybe you would be better off without me around."

His purple irises met theirs once more, a silent plea hidden within their depths. He lowered his hand and grabbed yours placing it onto his chest. You could feel his muscles through his clothes, his heart racing ever so slightly.

The argumentative atmosphere had dissipated. You both had so much love for each other and the way you were showing it now was toxic. You NEVER argued.

“You know thats not true.” You trailed off feeling his breathe. You sighed softly. Your friend you loved was so mature, something so unfamiliar to you.

Caleb's gaze was earnest, filled with a yearning that seemed to pull you closer. "When I look at you, it's like seeing the one person who stayed the same, no matter how much the world turned upside down. I want to protect that—you, the way you’ve always made me feel. But I don't always know how to do it right anymore."

Calebs hand slid up to your face. “I really dont know whats right anymore” Caleb said tilting his head to the side, staring down at your lips. He was about to cross a line that had never been crossed.

Your heart raced at the thought of caleb kissing you. The sibling relationship you guys had went away after he ‘died’. When you mourned for Caleb you were filled with regrets. Now one of those regrets was about to wash away.

You closed your eyes as Caleb closed the gap between you two. His kiss was almost as if he had been waiting for this for years. The way his body completely moved with yours.

His touch was gentle yet filled with a raw intensity, as if trying to convey the words he couldn't quite form. For a moment, everything else faded away—the arguments, the pain, the confusion. There was only this: a connection that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

Your eyes buldged as caleb kissed you, unsure of the new territory but you slowly began to accept. Calebs hand trailed down to your wrist and he squeezed it firm almost like he was holding back.

The anger you felt, the confusion you felt, was all gone. You could only think about his lips on yours.

When his hand moved from their face to their wrist, his fingers had curled around it gently. He was careful, mindful of his own strength, feeling the steady pulse beneath his fingertips. That familiar rhythm brought a sense of calm, even as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

The storm outside was still brewing and yet you and caleb didnt seem to mind. The only thing on your minds was each other.

His grip on their wrist softened, shifting to intertwine their fingers as he spoke. "If this is too much—“

“No.. No keep going” you spoke with pleaful eyes. He nods and deepens the kiss as his hand finds the wall behind your head, resting on it. His eyebrows furrowed, his body language full of lust.

Your hands trailed to his waist, gripping onto his pants and pulling him closer to you, both of your tongues swirling in an almost drunken kiss.

A low groan escaping his lips as he felt your fingers grip his pants. He pressed closer, the hard lines of his body molding to the curves of their own. The wall at Y/N back and Caleb's arm around their waist pinned them together, a delicious trap from which neither seemed eager to escape.

His hand slid from their hair to their jaw, tilting it slightly as he explored their mouth with a newfound intensity. Years of pent-up longing and desire coursed through his veins, and he channeled it all into this single moment, this perfect, stolen interlude. He wanted to devour them, to consume every last inch of their skin until there was nothing left but the two of them.

Caleb swept you up into his strong arms, gripping their thighs as he hoisted them onto his hips. He pressed your back against the wall, pinning you there with his muscular frame as he crushed his lips to yours in a searing kiss filled with long-denied passion and lust. One hand slid down to squeeze the curve of your ass, pulling your hips snugly against his own. The hard, thick ridge of his arousal pressed insistently against your core, separated only by the thin fabric of his pants and their clothing.

Breaking the kiss with a gasp, Caleb's dark, desire-glazed eyes met yours, his gaze heavy with hunger and unspoken desires. "Fuck, Y/N," he growled, his voice low and rough with need.

With that, he swung around and carried you towards the bedroom, his long strides swift and purposeful. He kicked the door shut behind them, the sound echoing in the charged air between them. Caleb laid you down on the bed, following them down, his body blanketing yours, his hips nestled between your spread thighs.

"Tell me to stop," Caleb rasped, his breath hot against your cheek, then your neck. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, this isn’t right.”

You squeezed your eyes shut at the sound of his voice. “No, keep going” You spoke reopening your eyes to gaze at him.

He let out a small groan, a sound that came from someone who was surprised by an answer.

He nipped at your collarbone, soothing the sting with a kiss as he pressed his hips more firmly against yours. The hard, thick length of him throbbed insistently, separated only by the barrier of their clothing. He rolled his hips, grinding against their core, and a low groan rumbled in his chest at the delicious friction.

"Fuck, Y/N," he breathed against his racing heartbeat, "I feel how much you want this too. I know you feel how hard I am for you."

Your face flushed at the sound of Calebs dirty talk. This was such a new area you didn’t know how to feel. You felt shy almost, like this was your first time with anyone.

His hand slid up their side, pushing the hem of your shirt upwards to expose more of your soft skin. Callused fingers brushed over the sensitive underside of their breast, making their way to their nipples.

You let out a soft moan which made Caleb chuckle. The fact that Caleb was able to get you to make such a sound, for him to finally hear that sound, sent chills down his spine. Emboldened, he tugged impatiently at his shirt, taking it off his body, same with his belt.

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. He swallowed your moans, drinking it down like the finest wine as he ground his hips more insistently against theirs.

Breaking the kiss, Caleb trailed his lips downwards, his tongue flicking out to trace the elegant line of their neck, the delicate curve of their collarbone. He could feel their heart pounding beneath his touch, matching the tempo of his own.

You began to take your shirt off leaving you bare chested. Caleb had sat up, staring at you intently, almost drawing every curve of you in. He licked his lips and grabbed a condom from the drawer to his right, holding it in between his teeth as his ripped it.

Tossing the empty wrapper aside, he held the condom aloft, his eyes locking with Rose's. The dark purple irises swirled with lust and anticipation, a promise of the pleasure to come.

"I'm going to love you like i’ve always dreamed of" Caleb murmured, his voice low and rough with desire. "I want to feel every inch of you, to be inside you in every way possible."

“Caleb… don’t say such provocative things…” you said shakily, your voice barely above a whisper. The heat radiated from your ears, cheeks, and shoulders, painting your skin a bright shade of red. You could feel your heart pounding out of your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment.

He chuckled softly, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin. “But you love it,” he replied, his tone playful yet filled with an undeniable heat. The way he looked at you made your stomach flutter, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within you.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the way he spoke sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep inside. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you stammered, attempting to sound defiant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Caleb’s gaze softened, and he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your skin. “You can’t hide how you feel from me,” he said, his voice low and intimate. “I see the way you react, the way you light up when I say those things.”

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as his words wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The connection between you was electric, and despite your attempts to play it cool, you knew he was right. Every teasing word, every sultry glance only drew you closer to him, making it impossible to resist.

He tossed the condom onto the bed beside you as his hands slid down to the waistband of your pants, his fingers toying with the button. He laughed at your comment and leaned in closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered:

"I need you, Y/N. I need to feel you wrapped around me, I need to finally be able to touch you.” Your throat dried up quickly as you nodded, gently cradling Caleb's face. "I don't want to be distant from you… Not again, not ever."

The urgency in your voice nearly left Caleb in a state of turmoil; he was trying his best to remain calm and tender with you. With care, he slid your panties down and moistened two of his fingers, tenderly exploring between your folds.

As he touched you, your back arched instinctively, a wave of warmth cascading through your body. A flutter of excitement stirred in your stomach, a delicious mix of anticipation and desire that made your breath hitch. You bit your lip, trying to hold back your reaction, but the sensation of his hands exploring your skin was intoxicating, igniting every nerve ending.

Caleb took a moment to steady himself, his breath even, as he positioned himself at your entrance. One arm rested next to your neck and the other placed around his cock, just between your legs.

He looked into your eyes, ensuring that you were comfortable and ready for what was about to happen. The atmosphere was tense, filled with an anticipation that hung heavily in the air. Communication was key, and he wanted to make sure you felt safe and in control.

You looked up and noticed the necklace you had given him swaying gently, a reminder of your connection. His pupils were dilated, revealing an intensity that suggested a deep desire. The moment felt charged, each heartbeat echoing the shared anticipation between you.

Caleb regarded you with a questioning gaze, and you nodded in response, granting him permission.

He gradually pressed deeper, and you found yourself unprepared for his size. A low groan escaped his lips as his hand, which had been wrapped around him, moved to your other shoulder.

“Mmph, Caleb,” you murmured, glancing down at his abdomen. His muscles were taut, glistening with beads of sweat that trickled down his body. When you looked back up, you noticed his eyes were closed, and he appeared to be in a state of near discomfort.

You reached out to touch his face, but he caught your hand firmly, pushing it back down into the pillow. The unexpected move sent a thrill through you, a mix of surprise and excitement. His grip was gentle yet possessive, a reminder of the intensity of the moment.

“Not yet,” Caleb said, his voice low and filled with a teasing authority that sent shivers down your spine. “I want you to feel this. Just let go and trust me.”

Your heart raced at his words, and you felt a rush of adrenaline. The way he looked at you, with a blend of desire and determination, made you feel both vulnerable and empowered. You nodded, surrendering to the moment, allowing him to guide you.

He slowly began to pull in and out of his, his eyes focused on looking down, making sure he wasn’t hurting you. ‘Mmph’ You said quietly causing Caleb to look up at you, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

He picked up the pace, and you found yourself unprepared for the sudden intensity. “Caleb,” you moaned, attempting to press your other hand against his chest, but he swiftly pushed it back down. “Slow— mph, down,” you managed to say, your hands now trapped beneath one of his.

He slowly opened his eyes and pressed his lips against yours, savoring every moan that escaped you and returning the sensation with equal fervor. One of your hands slipped from his and reached to his back grabbing onto his shoulder blade harshly.

The way he was making you feel was to much, it was to fast for your. “Caleb-“ You spoke again before he cut you off.

“Please, hah, please don’t make to slow down…” he spoke through moans“I’ve been waiting for this… please don’t make me slow down.”

You quickly covered your mouth and screwed your eyes shut as you let Caleb continue. He felt so large inside of you almost like you could feel him in your stomach.

Caleb had let go of your other hand and gripped the headboard of his bed, almost clawing at it.

“You feel so good,” he breathed, his voice low and filled with desire. “You feel so fucking good.” Each moan that escaped his lips was breathtaking, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within you. The way he spoke made it clear that he was on the edge, teetering between pleasure and the brink of release.

“Always back-talking me—hah—and now… now you’re silent,” he teased, his words dripping with a playful challenge. His thrusts became more erratic, more desperate, as if he were trying to chase the high that was just out of reach. The tone in his voice wasn’t angry; instead, it felt like this was his way of getting you back, of reminding you of the playful banter that had always defined your connection.

You could feel the intensity building between you, a palpable energy that made the air around you crackle. Each thrust brought you closer to the edge, and you could sense the shift in him, the way his control was slipping as he surrendered to the moment. It was exhilarating, the way he pushed and pulled, teasing you while also losing himself in the pleasure you shared.

As you locked eyes, you could see the mix of determination and vulnerability in his gaze. It was a reminder that beneath the playful banter and teasing, there was a deep connection that bound you both together, one that thrived on intimacy and trust.

Your walls clench at Calebs stern comment, making his whole body shake for a moment. “You did that in purpose.” Caleb groaned leaning over so his head was into yours ear.

Your stomach tightens at Calebs words and your legs begin to shake. You were so close so you quickly pushed onto his chest trying to push him away. ‘Caleb- Ha - I’m mph, Im close You cried

Caleb’s head tilted back for a moment before he locked eyes with you, his grip firm as he cupped your face. “Don’t push me away anymore,” he said, his voice echoing with a hollow intensity.

Your heart raced at his words, a mix of fear and desire swirling within you. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric. “Caleb—please, I can’t... I’m so close, just stop,” you pleaded, your voice trembling as you instinctively tried to push him away.

But he didn’t budge. Instead, his gaze softened slightly, revealing a vulnerability that made your stomach tighten. You were caught in a whirlwind of emotions, teetering on the edge of something you both feared and craved. “Let me see you, please.” He begged.

Your eyebrows furrowed and your legs began to shake. “Mmph-“ You moaned as your legs wrapped around his waist pulling him closer towards you.

“Let it out, Y/N,” he urged, his hand sliding to grip your waist. The moment his fingers brushed against your skin, a wave of sensation washed over you, turning you into a moaning mess. Your toes curled, and you arched your back, each vibration coursing through your body like electricity, igniting every nerve ending.

“Ahh, damn,” Caleb moaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck. “It feels so good... I’m so close.” His words spilled out in a breathless rush just before you felt him twitch, his body trembling with pleasure as he released within you. He sucked on your neck as he released with pleasure, moving his hand in yours, grasping it tightly before softly letting go.

Caleb slid out of you and settled beside you, both of you panting, sweaty, and utterly satisfied. You turned to look at him, and your heart skipped a beat as you met his gaze. His eyes were locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes—he looked utterly in love, as if he wanted to savor every part of you.

You leaned up to get out of bed, but Caleb quickly wrapped his arms around you, pulling you back against him. With your back to him, you felt his warm breath against your neck as he nuzzled in, inhaling the scent of your hair. “Stop,” you giggled, trying to squirm free, but he held you tighter, a playful grin on his face.

You rolled over to face Caleb, who had been gently playing with your hair. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at you. “Hi,” he said, a cheeky grin spreading across his face. “Hello,” you replied, your gaze dropping shyly to the sheets.

You scooted closer to Caleb, burying your head into his chest, and he welcomed you by wrapping his arms around you. With a gentle motion, he grabbed the blanket that had been tossed aside, pulling it over both of you and creating a cozy cocoon. “Laying together like this feels like old times,” he said, his voice warm and nostalgic. “But now it’s even better.”

A smile spread across your face as you ran your fingers through his hair. “I missed this...” you murmured softly.

As you settled deeper into his embrace, you realized that this moment was more than just a memory; it was a promise of all the moments yet to come.

Caleb squeezed you putting his chin ontop of your head, engulfing you in all the love he had to share. A new beginning of both of you, a new uncharted territory and yet you both were so excited to just be there together.

[throatgoat4u]

hello, hello, hello, hello to all my lovely people out there. i wanna start of by saying happy valentines to every single one of you. whether you're single, in a relationship, or have just broken up, i hope you all enjoy this amazing day of love and share it with their loved ones.

today's not just about a romantic partner, but to people who you just love. tell your family how much you love and appreciate them for all they've done for you and if that's not an option, share your gratitude with your friends or people who have constantly been there for you and have made you feel loved.

do something kind for someone. give them a hug, write them a letter, compliment them, whatever. you don't have to make some big gesture or go all out, just let someone know you appreciate them.

but most importantly, make sure you love yourself. self love is just as, if not more, important than anything else. how are you supposed to put in your time and effort in loving someone else if you can't do that for yourself? so whether you want to go out and spoil yourself or stay in and take a nice bath and watch movies, make sure you're putting your love for yourself first.

but, loving yourself isn't just about spa days and self care (but like that shit's like amazing so like i definitely recommend a nice everything shower if you're not doing anything today.....) it's also about speaking to yourself kindly, forgiving yourself for past mistakes, and acknowledging that you deserve just as much love as everyone else on this amazing day!

now, that being said, i'm gonna spread all my love to some of the most amazing people on this app! (this is where my formality ends, trust 🤞)

@onevison. i literally love you so much omg. you are one of the nicest people ever and you're actually so creative with your aus. i love talking to you and always enjoy when we chat. i love you!

@freshloveee. you're so so so good at writing and genuinely one of my favorite writers on this app. you're honestly so sweet and kind. i love you!

@chrepsi. you're genuinely one of the funniest people on this app, i cannot. i love your vibe and your music taste is just so ugh. you're so cool. i love you!

@muwapsturniolo. so you're literally amazing?!?! like you're so gorgeous and funny and such an amazing writer. idek how many times i've reread your shit but it's too many to count. anywho..... when's the next album coming out sza????? i love you!

@leoslaboratory. i just binge read your fics last night btw. you're fucking amazing and i love everything you do. dealer!chris is amazing and i absolutely love it. your fics for black history month are eating btw. i love you!

@phone4pills. so so so cool. you're theme is so cool, you're fics are so cool, you are so cool. i'm genuinely sooo happy anytime i've seen that you've posted a new fic or something and am always looking forward to when you write more. i love you!

@mattscoquette. you're just sooooo like awesome. i love everything you write and i love scrolling through watching you answer asks cause you're so funny. i'm still heartbroken over a change of heart (and the fact that you've ruined that song for me 💔). also like petition to bring back my man perv!matt. he doesn't get the love he deserve. anyways, when i was lurking here, i would always stalk your page and you were the first person i found on sturniolo tumblr. you were genuinely such an inspiration for me and one of the biggest reasons i started posting what i write. i love you!

@thenickgirl. you're my favorite nick girl out there. i love how you write for him and give him the attention he absolutely deserves. just cause he's gay doesn't mean we should leave him out guys 😞💔. you're such an amazing writer and you're so funny. i love you!

@t0riiiis. you're literally like so relatable and i feel like i can always talk to you without getting bored. you're there for me and you've shown your love for me countless times and i cannot even begin to say how much it means to me. i love you!

@oopsiedaisydeer. i'm sooo happy that we're like friends now because you're such a nice and cool person. you're an amazing writer and i love when i see updates on your ponyo au. you're so sweet and show me so much support on literally everything. i love you!

@bernardsbendystraws. dare i say that you're the mother of sturniolo tumblr?!?! you're genuinely such and amazing and funny person and make the tumblr fandom a much better place. i love how during that whole pedo scandal, you were there for absolutely every single person and were so helpful in the whole ordeal. you aren't scared of what anyone says about you and you're so confident, it's so admirable (this also goes for @muwapsturniolo, cause if i recall correctly she called her workplace or something like that which is honestly a boss ass move). your writing is also just amazing and never disappoints. you're like a breath of fresh air (that sounded better in my head but it's okay). i love you!

and i've saved the best for last, @snoopychris. idek what to say. like i'm being serious. i love you so much and you're my absolute favorite person on here. i love being able to talk to you everyday and ik you'll be there to listen without judgement. you're so funny (and a bit odd) and i love you for it. you're genuinely like a big sister to me in a way and i just feel like talking to you makes my day. whether it's about an au or just yapping (or saying some weird shit about chris) it always makes my day just so much better. i literally trust you soooo much even if we’ve only known each other for a short time. like when i say i trust you, i mean like i TRUST you. atp, i trust you enough to know what my face looks like, my actual name, and other personal info. like genuinely i feel so comfortable talking to you and you never fail to make me happy! you're such a fun person and so creative. also you're writing?!?! i literally love it. i love you 🧠!

obviously there are so many other people who i absolutely love, adore, and cherish with my whole heart, but these people stick out to me! anyways, i love you guys so much and am so thankful for everyone's constant support. i'm so happy with all the new friends i've made on this app and am looking forward to making many many many more! with lots of love...

toodles sluts :)

(i felt it was necessary to bring back sluts for this post...)

also the fact that i actually wrote that shit at the top from my heart impresses me….. like what?!?!

also one last note, if there’s some misspelled words or i’m just repeating myself like an idiot, please note that its still early and even tho i woke up over an hour ago, im still like half asleep

[sasheneskywalker]

over the two years of my involvement in the dc fandom, i've come across several fantastic stories that i still think about to this day. i'm reccing them here. please mind the tags and warnings, most of them cover dark subjects and unhealthy relationships. happy reading!

Smashing Tail Lights by CunningCrow (@redactedcrow) a mundane slice-of-life of a murdery traumatised eighteen year old getting his life absolutely fucked up and trying to fix it up a bit through more murder

M | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Dick Grayson & Jason Todd | 87.8k words

this is without doubt my favorite jason todd fanfic ever. the characterization, the plot, the prose, the worldbuilding, the ocs, everything is perfect. i reread it at least once every three months. i recommend it in every single dc fic server i'm in. i love this fic with my whole heart <3

we show off our different scarlet letters (trust me mine is better) by lostandlonelybirds (@runnfromtheak) He gets called things, sometimes. Slut when Mirage tricks him. Cheater when Barbara tells others about her suspicions, her doubts and feelings. Whore when it’s a villain pissed he took out their goons and they’re aiming below the belt. Playboy by magazines, and bicycle by the younger generation because “everyone gets a ride”. They hurt the way most things do, and they each hurt in a different way because he’s broken and he’s tattered and he loves but not the way you’re meant to, because it’s not nature or an inferno or something out of a Greek myth. It’s not possession or jealousy or the need to lock it down.

It’s different. It’s not supposed to be.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Other(s) | 3.1k words

beautiful descriptions of love, friendship, and intimacy and what it's like to be aromantic. it captures emotions and relationship dynamics in a gorgeous way.

These Twists and Turns of Fate by Hinn_Raven (@secretlystephaniebrown) To be born is to exist, but to live is something else entirely. Stephanie Brown falls apart, and pulls herself back together. OR Stephanie Brown is assigned a different name and gender at birth. These are the changes that result.

G | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Stephanie Brown/Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown/Tim Drake, Harper Row/Carrie Kelley, Stephanie Brown & Harper Row, Stephanie Brown & Jason Todd, Stephanie Brown & Damian Wayne, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain, Stephanie Brown & Crystal Brown, Stephanie Brown & Tim Drake | 39.3k words

follows stephanie brown's canon story with one change: steph is a trans woman. in my personal opinion, it depicts the trans experience perfectly. i got so emotional reading it, i cried for half an hour (which happens very, very rarely). i love it <3

A hold on me by Anonymous Damian starts thinking about self-identity. Things both are and aren’t difficult. Growing up is hard, you know.

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | No Relationships | 15.6k words

a story focused on damian and her journey of self-discovery. it also portrays the trans experience wonderfully. angsty, but with a hopeful ending. love it <3

something just broke by BeatriceEagle (@flybynightwing) With teams run by a small handful of big names, recruitment based almost entirely on who you know, and unchecked interteam dating, the superhero community is practically designed to encourage interpersonal abuse. When a former sidekick comes forward to say that she was abused by her mentor, the entire community has to reckon with the part they may have played—and with the abuses that may still be going unnoticed.

(A story of systems, told through chats, texts, and transcripts.)

M | Rape/Non-Con, Underage Sex | Clark Kent/Lois Lane, Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen, Dick Grayson & Donna Troy, Barbara Gordon & Dinah Lance, Koriand'r & Donna Troy | 10k words

i love all of BeatriceEagle's works, they're one of my favorite dc fic writers. this particular fic talks about rape, sexual assault, and abuse in the hero community and systems of power that allow it to happen. amazing writing and great portrayal of the subject matter. i also love their fanvids Oblivion Upon Us (about the existential terror of dc's cosmic reboots) and They Give It Away (about the women of dc comics)

I Left My Conscience On Your Front Doorstep by dustorange (@dustorange) "I think I'm leaving," Dick whispers. "I think I'm not coming back."

T | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson & Roy Harper, Background Roy Harper/Jade Nguyen | 21.4k words

dustorange has a lot of amazing dc fics. this fic in particular is one of my favorite dick grayson-centric fics of all time. it has enthralling prose and wonderful characterization <3

(you kept me like a secret) i kept you like an oath by gatheringwool Jason always knew everyone would flip out when they found out about him and Bruce.

He just always assumed it would be more along the lines of Jason, you dirty whore you. Not whatever the hell this was.

M | Rape/Non-Con, Underage | Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne | 11.4k words

the best example of the 'unreliable narrator' tag i've ever seen. bruce's actions are unequivocally terrible but because the fic is written from jason's perspective and jason doesn't believe anything is wrong with his relationship and seems convincing, you start to question your own opinion too. chilling. amazing, but chilling.

mutually assured by wingdingery (@wingdingery) Dick’s mom always told him that kissing a wound would help it heal faster.

Somehow, Dick’s not sure that’s ever really worked for him and Bruce.

E | No Archive Warnings Apply | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne | 5.8k words

the paper-thin line by wingdingery (@wingdingery) After Dick interferes with Slade’s job in Gotham (which, to be fair, he’d only done because Slade interfered with his first), he decides the best way to prevent future retaliation is to strike a deal: if Slade agrees to leave Gotham alone, then Dick will stay with him alone for one night, and no matter what Slade does, he won’t run.

Though that doesn’t mean Dick is going to go down without a fight.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson | 6.7k words

i could put every single of wingdingery's brudick and sladick fics here but i'm limiting myself to only one per ship. their writing and characterization is fantastic. they truly understand these characters and the relationship dynamics are captivating. those two fics are my favorites <3

daredevil cartwheel by cheju (@chejuu) “You wouldn’t,” Dick says. Slade is bluffing, but it’s a damn good bluff, because Dick’s body still hasn’t got the memo—heart racing, breath coming quick, goosebumps dancing down his arms.

Slade leans his solid weight over Dick’s back, breath hot and promising against his ear. “But it would be so easy.”

-

Slade teaches Dick a lesson in self-defense.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson | 4.3k words

i could also put every single of cheju's sladick fics here. his prose is delicious and the characterization and relationship dynamics are amazing. he just gets slade and dick. and his original works are awesome too <3

One-Way Glass by wormsin (@wormsin) Dick Grayson—husband, father, hero—is de-aged to his early days as Robin.

There are lots of different ways to look at the past. Sometimes, it's hard to know what really happened.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne | 9.1k words

bruce and dick's relationship is so complex and has so many layers. the entwinement of the past and the present makes it a fascinating read.

You are forever in my mind by orphan_account This started off as a simple idea: Bruce installs a new set of cameras in the manor; cameras he doesn't tell anyone about. One night, he accidentally sees something that fundamentally affects him - and the way he looks at Dick.

E | Underage | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne | 30.1k words

one of the first brudick fics i've read. absolute classic. the prose is wonderful and the author thoroughly explores bruce and dick's relationship.

Playing with Uranium by BlameTheMachines Slade invites Dick into his study for a friendly chat about Rose’s training. It goes poorly.

M | Rape/Non-Con | Dick Grayson/Slade Wilson | 3.6k words

creepy slade wilson and dick desperately pretending he's a villain. i love their characterizations and chemistry in the fic.

Blurry by MissNaya (@herecomesnaya) Jason and Black Mask play-flirt too much. It's only natural that one day they push things too far.

E | Rape/Non-Con | Roman Sionis/Jason Todd | 98.3k words

the first chapters lull you into a false sense of security and make you think that while this is not a love story, it won't spiral into outright rape/abuse. but with each chapter, roman escalates his actions to the point where it's clear what's going on. it's so believably written, a masterful portrayal of an abusive relationship.

The View from the Ground by Gement (@gement) Batman has had it with Evil Superman AUs. Not on his watch, not in this universe. No matter what it takes. He . . . may have overcompensated.

M | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne | 5.4k words

superbat fic with bruce who doesn't hesitate to test clark in unpleasant ways. i love the dynamic between them and how they're characterized.

A River in Egypt by withthekeyisking (@withthekeyisking-writer) Clark's always ignored Dick's crush on him; he's just a boy, after all. A child with too much hero worship. His best friend's kid. Calls him Uncle Clark for God's sake.

But then Dick grows up. And he isn't so much of a little boy anymore.

E | Underage Sex | Dick Grayson/Clark Kent, Clark Kent & Bruce Wayne | 15k words

an exploration of dick and clark's relationship. clark sleeps with dick just before he becomes nightwing. it's told from clark's perspective. deliciously twisted, fascinating fic. q also has a lot of other awesome dc fics, especially sladick ones <3

rules by dexdefyingstunts (@dexdefyingstunts) For the prompt: "Bruce is a pedophile who is sexually attracted to his kids (and probably other kids, too), but actively refrains from giving into those desires because he knows, conceptually, that it's wrong."

NR | Rape/Non-Con, Underage Sex | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne, Stephanie Brown/Bruce Wayne, Bruce Wayne/Damian Wayne | 2.2k words

four graves, one gun. by projectfreelancer They are his boys, and Bruce has made them this way.

a character study of Bruce Wayne and the Robins.

M | Underage Sex | Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake/Bruce Wayne | 3.8k words

both fics deal with bruce who is attracted to his robins. both are written from his perspective. he doesn't act on his attraction in the first one and does act in the second one. they have riveting prose and delve deep into bruce's mind.

i've been living six feet down (baby, i'm alive right now) by Anonymous (@necrotic-nephilim) Tim is beaten and cornered by Jason in Titans Tower.

Except this time, it goes a little differently.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake/Jason Todd | 6.7k words

you cut so deep (but i always loved you deeper) by Anonymous (@necrotic-nephilim) Going after Jason was a bad idea. Putting on a Batsuit to go after Jason was an even worse idea. Tim pays the price for it, bloody and trapped under Jason with nowhere to go, and unspoken feelings to confront. He was always going to submit to Jason, sooner or later.

or

Tim confronts Jason during Battle for the Cowl, but their fight ends much differently.

E | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Tim Drake/Jason Todd | 6.5k

luciferos is definitely one of the best dc dark fic writers and it was very difficult to choose which fics i should put here. in the end, i think two of my favorites are their jaytim fics set during some of jason and tim's post-crisis interactions: titans tower fight and battle for the cowl fight. the characterization is impeccable and the chemistry between jason and tim is delicious. please check out their other works too, they're a fantastic writer <3

what are y’alls “oh my god” dc fic recs. the ones that break and remake you. the ones that leave you staring at the wall after the words have ended and the story is done on the page but not in your mind.

[deadbeatbirdmom]

Happy Valentine's Day my fellow RWBY fans. This should be a day focused on love. Which is why I'm going to talk about something that's been troubling me for a while. This isn't about any single post, and I'm not singling anyone out. I'd put this under a read more cut but I think it's important enough not to do that. Scroll down for TLDR and a poll.

One of the common courtesies of tumblr etiquette is: don't tag hate with things like a ship tag or character tag. Or should be common, but let's face it, it's more like uncommon.

A good chunk of tumblr users who I end up blocking are those who post hate in tags like the 'Bumbleby' tag, or 'Yang Xiao Long' tag (it'd be the 'RWBY' tag too, but I don't often go there and rarely post in it). No, it's not toxic to block people, it's how you control your tumblr experience. It's how I avoid seeing hate, or try to.

But there are some tumblr users who I don't want to block but also end up putting hate in the tags: some of my fellow fans. It's not intended the same way as those who do it out of spite, but the end result is the same: your fellow fans end up seeing stuff they might prefer not to.

There's another rule, an old one that predates tumblr: don't feed the trolls. Don't give them attention. Please delete anon hate rather than answer it, although I definitely understand how trolling trolls can be fun. Just please don't tag it with the main tags or you'll do the anon's work for them if it's hate about a ship or character.

I see all too much fan art around that gets far less engagement than posts trying to fight back against hate (and unfortunately share the hate at the same time, especially when it's something from elsewhere like reddit or twitter). If you like the art, don't only hit that heart button, reblog it too!

RWBY fandom isn't dead, but we do need to do our part to encourage artists to make and share more art. Likes alone don't help the art get in front of more fans. I don't think everyone looks in the tags to find art, some will rely on those they follow reblogging art. This goes for sharing fic too! And giving fic writers comments (and kudos on AO3).

This is an appeal to keep negativity out of the main tags. I'm not saying you can't post whatever you want, just when it comes to tagging: please spare a thought for your fellow fans who are incredibly tired of negativity. If all else fails, maybe include a tag that can be added to filters? 'Wasps' for posts about Bumbleby hate, maybe?

I don't know about anyone else, but if I wanted to see hate and get angry, I'd be on twitter or reddit. I check tags here on tumblr to find fan art, and to see fellow fans talking about how much they love RWBY and its characters and ships, and find interesting theories and analysis.

I'm also not entirely sure how tumblr works with followed tags and words mentioned in posts. Do untagged posts still show up if the word appears in the post? Does that mean breaking the word with a backslash or something to avoid it showing up? I don't know, perhaps something to consider.

TLDR: please don't feed the trolls and don't tag hate with main tags. Show RWBY fan artists and fic writers some love and reblog their posts, and comment on fics!

One last thing: a poll to find out if I'm an outlier and posting hate is actually normal in this post-twitter world.

[rafesbuzzcutseason]

chasing city lights

chapter 14 - 3 words

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language and fluff

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

waking up knowing your boyfriend and your best friends had been nominated for a grammy was a feeling like no other.

once rafe had texted you the news he came straight over to yours to celebrate together.

"i can't believe it" he screamed as soon as he walked through your door, picking you up in an excited hug.

"me neither baby, i'm so proud of you." you replied in his arms.

he pulled back slightly, looking into your eyes and his face lit up with pure joy. you smiled, running your fingers through his hair, feeling the excitement radiating off him. "you deserve this so much rafe."

he kissed you softly, his lips lingering a little longer than usual, before pulling away with a wide grin. "i couldn't have done it without you, you know that, right?"

you chuckled. "i don’t think that’s true. you’ve been amazing from the start, and you’ve earned every bit of this. but i’m glad i get to share it with you."

he kissed you again, harder this time, full of emotion. "i love you y/n"

"what?"

"i love you so much. so," he kissed you, "so" another kiss, "so much."

you pulled away to look straight into his eyes, making sure your next words would go straight through to him.

"i love you even more rafe."

he smiled, his eyes softening as he held you close. "you don’t know how much that means to me," he whispered, his voice full of raw emotion.

you rested your head on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear. "i think i do," you murmured. "i think we both know how much this means."

rafe pulled back gently, wiping a stray tear from your cheek, and laughed softly. "i swear, this is the happiest moment of my life."

you grinned. "well, it’s only the beginning, right?"

he nodded, his eyes sparkling, "yeah, just the beginning princess. i'm gonna need a date to the grammys after all."

"well," you said, wrapping your arms back around his neck, "i'm not going anywhere.”

he kissed you one more time - this time with the promise of a future full of more moments like this.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: you guys in my last chapter making me giggle with your trust issues, have a feeling this is only going to fuel them further😝

reminder that reblogging is the best way to support writers <3

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry  @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl@4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi  @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy@bambii1i @sammyrenae68 @kittenjujusblog @bambii1i @thesunflowersociety

[mikibwrites]

Fuck it Friday

It's 4:13AM and I just wrote a scene in a wip I haven't touched in over a year, so that's something! Here's a gift for those who continuously tag me every week in wip games, you don't know how much I appreciate you, even when I'm having such horrible writer's block. This is from my TrueBlood AU, in which I am attempting to rewrite each episode of LS, except it takes place in the TB universe. It's slow going bc of the changes I have to make BUT it still lives in my head all the time. So here's something a little sad and angsty, but maybe hopeful? This is from 1x08, so you have context, but obviously things are different ;) It's a long one, too. An entire scene, 1k! So there's more under the cut :)

Hours later, his father had gone home exasperated and TK couldn’t find it in himself to care. The sweet nurse was back. This time, for some reason, he clocked her name badge: Traci. 

Traci didn’t pay him any mind as she grabbed the chart off the end of Carlos’ bed, checked his heart rate, oxygen saturation, all the monitors and lines connected to his body. She pulled out a penlight and carefully, so very gently, raised his eyelids to shine the beam into his pupils. TK knew she’d find no reaction, but he also knew it was another thing to check off a list, just in case. 

Traci went through the entire checklist in silence, not acknowledging TK at all, which was odd. She usually had a kind smile for him, even if it reminded him of his father’s—a little exasperated. But this time she ignored him entirely as she went about her duties. He wondered if he’d annoyed her enough that her kind demeanor—her customer service face, he almost snorted to himself—had fallen by the wayside when he was the only one present in the room. He’d become furniture, which was fitting, since he felt like he’d solidified in place. He hadn’t moved a single muscle in hours, not even needing to breathe to put on a good show for anyone. 

Finally, Traci hooked the chart back on the end of the bed, but instead of leaving the room without a word as TK expected her to do, she turned and looked right at him.

For a moment, her eyes were hard, determined, but it seemed like this sweet woman was incapable of harshness because they softened after only a moment, looking at him with something like pity. It didn’t even raise his hackles like it normally would. He had no strength left to care what she thought of him.

“Listen,” she began softly, still standing a few feet away from. “I don’t know much about vampire health, but I do know about the bleeds. You need to sleep soon, or feed, or you’ll die.”

“I’m already dead,” was TK’s rote answer. She sighed, and he could tell she was slightly annoyed at him but didn’t want to show it. 

“I can bring you a bag from the—”

“No.” He almost winced at his harsh tone, his nature creeping out of him a bit, snarling. 

She didn’t question why he wouldn’t take a blood bag from their supply, just moved on. He was oddly thankful amidst his melancholy. 

“Then let me find you a light-tight room for a couple of hours. Please, you need to rest. Do you think, when he wakes up, he’ll want to see you like this? Not taking care of yourself?” TK could applaud her tactic, appealing to his very obvious care for the man in the hospital bed, but he had an answer for that too. 

“To be honest, he probably won’t want to see me anyway. It’s not like we’re anything serious.”

She raised a very skeptical eyebrow at him. He couldn’t blame her. He was purposefully slowly killing himself holding vigil for a man he’d pushed away at every slight show of something deeper between them. He probably should have taken this as a sign from the universe that he should cut ties with Carlos for good, that being around TK wasn’t safe for him. The worst part was, what happened had nothing to do with the supernatural at all; it was just Carlos’ job and it’s random, merciless dangers that landed them here. But TK couldn’t help wondering if it wasn’t a sign from the universe anyway. 

“Forgive me if I don’t take your word on that. Please, let me find you somewhere to rest, and you can come back in a couple of hours.” Her face was all sympathy, almost pleading.

“Why do you care what happens to me, anyway?” I’m a monster from your nightmares, he doesn’t say out loud, a qualifier that isn’t needed but true all the same. 

“I’m a nurse. Caring about people is in the job description,” she says with a casual shrug. 

“I’m not people.” It’s a true statement, full stop.

“See, I don’t believe that. I think everyone, good or bad, living or dead, has a right to health and happiness. And right now, I care about his health and your health and also my own sanity, so I can’t watch this anymore without doing something about it. Also, I’m pretty sure I could take you right now, in the state you’re in, so don’t try me again. I’ll be back in a moment.”

With that, she breezed out of the room and TK was left floundering. She was right, though; she could probably bully him into any position she chose right now, given how much his body had deteriorated without rest or blood. He felt like he’d melt into the floor soon. 

When she returned less than ten minutes later, she practically did just that. She threw a heavy blanket over him and grabbed his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. “Can you stand?”

“Maybe,” he said honestly. 

He let her help him from the chair, unsteady on his feet and leaning on her more than he would like to admit. 

“There’s no windows between here and where we’re going, but I brought the blanket just in case. Come on, we’re even staying on this floor. But if you sass me one more time, I’m putting you down in the morgue.”

That almost startled a laugh out of him, more an exhalation of air than anything else. 

The room she brought him to had two small cots and a row of five lockers. A break room of sorts. What he really needed was to go to ground, an enclosed space near the surface of the earth would rest him properly, but if this was the best he was getting it was more than he deserved. She didn’t turn the light on when they entered, which he was grateful for. The harsh lights of the hospital were already getting to him, another thing he didn’t want to admit, but she seemed to instinctively know how to handle his needs in the moment. 

She guided him over to a cot and helped him sit. He was nearly instantly horizontal, like a felled tree, but he was grateful when his head hit a pillow and not something hard like the cot’s frame. He lost track of the passage of time while she tucked him in like a sweet mother, taking care with him like he was someone worth caring about. Like he was human. 

“Sleep, and I promise I’ll come wake you myself if there are any changes, okay?”

He looked at her wryly with all the strength he had left, his body already drifting into a state of altered consciousness. “You’d wake a sleeping vampire? You have a death wish?”

She scoffed at him with a smirk. “Did we not just establish that I could totally take you?”

He wanted to laugh at her, wanted to come back with something snarky but also menacing, but he was already out.

Tagging some Tarlos mutuals @herefortarlos @guardian-angle22 @bonheur-cafe @carlos-tk @paperstorm @basilsunrise @rmd-writes @lemonlyman-dotcom @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @firstprince-history-huh and also specifically thanking @alrightbuckaroo @carlos-in-glasses and @strandnreyes for tagging me in other wip games :)

[aggieharkness]

A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Pairing: Joan Ramsey x reader

Summary: love can never be evil. Love should never be cruel or selfish but listen and comfort. Love could never have a form or fit in a mold as it is a feeling so deep that it shapes one's very soul. Love was at Joan's feet and she was cradling it, on her knees.

Warnings: religious trauma, mentions of murder and death, grief, child loss, isolation, buuuuut things get better cause there's fluff

Author's note: I'm sorry it has taken me so long to post this, but I wanted it to be good because it's a Joan story and she's a really complex character. I hope you all like it and I do hope that you can all see it as a Valentine's story. Special shout-out to @bravewithacapitalb for being my Beta Reader when she's got her own thing going. I love you girl. Sorry @delusionalforolderwomen but it's not Libby (don't be mad 🥺) . As always, do tell me how it looks, if you all like it or if there are things I need to change. I accept constructive criticism. Also available on Ao3. Finally, let's thank Patti Lupone for giving us Joan Ramsey but curse the writers for not giving us more scenes with her. If she evil why shaped like such a cutie pie?!

Happy Valentine's!

Words: 12 K (No comment)

A garden of sorrows shall bloom into hope.

Say you’ll remember me, standing in a nice dress, staring at the sunset. The radio never ceased its incessant pour of songs, most of them speaking of love and romance and futures that held no pain, only promises. Lies, all lies. Joan couldn’t help but scoff as the words went on, a goodbye to a loved one, someone who had meant something and who still held a special place in the singer’s heart, she thought, a foolish message that would fall on deaf ears. Or dead ears. The house was cold, silence creeping around every corner, making the wood creak and whine under its weight, curtains drawn and windows closed, not even a small breeze breaking into the house. She had no one to remember her by, not a soul left in her meaningless life that would hold her at night or sign with her in the kitchen while she cooked, only bitter memories and regret at her actions. The almighty had forsaken her, abandoned her in a vast land of sins and pain that she couldn’t escape from, and in the centre of all that fire and destruction that had become her life, she stood alone.

She laid in bed each night hoping she would not open her eyes the next day, unable to cope with everything that had happened, with the thoughts that she once had had a husband and son that she had loved more than herself and now only smoke was left, swirling in between her fingers, unable to grasp them, unable to fix what was broken. Joan barely ate, what little appetite she had vanishing every time she stepped into the house hoping to hear Luke, to even hear her late husband speaking on the phone to some client or other, only to be met by silence, that deafening noise that seeped into her bones. And today, was no different. She sat at the head of her oak dining table, a glass and bottle of red wine sitting in front of her as the radio played in the background trying to fill up the room with something that wasn’t the brutal sorrow that had overtaken her body. Her hair was piled on the back of her head, held by a black claw clip that dug onto her scalp, her bangs brushing her eyelids each time she blinked, but she showed no sign that it was bothering her, a few short random strands framing her face.

Months had passed since she had lost Luke, since she had let her own madness take him from her, the Devil’s work she had thought back then, and she was no closer to getting over it than the oceans were to drying up. No matter how much she tried to find an excuse, a reason as to why she had done all she had she could not, and it frightened her how lost she was, how little the scriptures she had once held onto as if they were oxygen to her meant to her now, only words in a worn book that brought no comfort. When had she stopped walking the path of the Lord? She had been His humble servant, and he had only put stones on her path that as the years went by, she had more trouble climbing, winning each trial he set before her with more difficulty each time. Had he been testing her faith all along or had he never cared for her? She was one of his children, and he cared for all of them equally and yet she felt… alone. Even when she had first gotten married she had felt alone, sitting in an empty house waiting for her beloved to walk through the front door to a warm delicious dinner and the sweetest, loving smile she could muster on her face. He had never truly seen her, pushing her aside without her noticing, or perhaps she had been aware, and she had been far too terrified of being left behind that she had let him.

The wine in her glass was sweet, her favourite kind, and it tinted her rosy lips as she took a sip, but as it slid down her throat it became sour, bitter on her tongue. Nothing tasted right anymore, the air around her didn’t smell as fresh as it once had, dusty, perhaps even musky and it clashed with the aroma of her perfume and shampoo, vanilla and sandalwood, in a nauseating manner that didn’t help her empty stomach. The song had ended a while ago, something different playing, raking in her ears like nails on a board, but she had no desire to stand and turn it off. She could not face the silence once more, it was poisoning her, killing her as the minutes passed by, the clock on the wall ticking in a perfect rhythm. So I'll dance with your ghost in the living room and I'll play the piano alone. What ghosts? The ones that she had caused or the ones that haunted her every second of every day? Could your eyes be considered a ghost? She had seen you arrive a few months ago, shortly after the incident with Luke, and as Joan’s big brown eyes had settled on your form, through the living room window, she could not help but admire the agility and grace with which you moved. It was a change from the way the girls in that school flaunted themselves, and in her heart, she felt a pang of sadness imagining how different you would be in only a few weeks. Probably condescending and with an air of superiority taught to you by Fiona, losing everything that made you so unique. She was proven wrong.

You had been warned about Joan, told about what she had done and how you were supposed to steer clear of her, but you didn’t. It had taken you several days to warm up to the idea of knocking on her door, a tray of homemade cookies in your hands, hoping your new housemates and teachers wouldn’t give you detention for breaking their rules, but there was something inside you that was curious, drawn to this unknown woman everyone seemed to hate. There were questions no one had ever bothered to ask to get the whole picture, and you intended to gather your own information and form your own opinions about her before you condemned her, after all she was nothing but a name to you. The instant the doors had opened your mind erased all preconceived ideas. She was beautiful, her perfectly straight hair framing a face of prominent cheeks and plump lips, a most exquisite pink hue tainting her skin, her features unique and utterly breathtaking. She had observed you quietly for a moment or two, curiosity glazing her eyes and she had not expected anyone to come knocking on her door, much less you, the new girl, but she could not say, not even now, that she was displeased by having another human being speak with her.

And it had taken her completely by surprise just how kind you were, how softly you spoke to her, and how unbothered you seemed to be by what she had done. Perhaps you hadn’t known? No, she had seen the hesitation at first in those beautiful eyes of yours, the way you held yourself at a prudent distance as if she could cause you harm, but when she had greeted you, Joan’s voice hoarse from not having spoken a single word in days those doubts had melted into nothing, ice under the sun. Of course, she was aware of what you were, of the power you held within you, and she had been wary of what you might do to her if you changed your mind about how you felt about her in the middle of the conversation, but that never happened, not for an instant did your interest sway from her and only her, no past tainting your ever-growing opinions. After she took the plate of cookies, a quiet thank you slipping from her rosy lips, the aroma of chocolate and sugar making her mouth water, your semblance took on a more sombre aura and with the utmost respect words of sympathy left your mouth, falling of the tip of your tongue like rain on a desert. And for the first time she felt as if someone actually cared about her pain, as if someone who could see her grief and sorrow and not just the actions that had unleashed it all. Tears had gathered in her eyes at that, only managing a nod as a lump formed in her throat preventing her from speaking, barely hanging on by a thread, and thankfully you understood. As you turned around to leave, your hand brushed over Joan’s wilting roses and like magic they blossomed once again, soft pink petals gleaming under the warm sunlight.

That first time she saw you haunted her to this day, the way your hair shone under the golden light of the full sun, how your flowy dress swayed in lazy waves around your legs in the warm breeze, the way your eyes had instantly bewitched her with their honesty and their caring gaze. You had known nothing but horrible things about her and yet you had had the courage of meeting her and treating her with kindness. She hadn’t known such a feeling since she was a young girl, not even her church acquaintances had bothered to show her an ounce of mercy and care when everything had unfolded before her, when hell had broken loose in her life. If God was supposed to love her, why had he closed his eyes at her pleas and let her wander into a dark path that had no exit? Each day became unbearable, long, dragging out until her tired body could not remain awake a moment longer even if all she had done was sit in her living room and let her guilt pushed her to the ground and stomp on her. The only moments of joy she lived were when you made it your own personal mission to get her to walk out onto the porch of the garden, her dressed hugging her frame looser every time you saw her, her skin losing that healthy glow that had adorned her that first time. It broke your heart just how everyone had cast her aside without asking why. Things were so much more complicated that she let on, you could sense it, but you never pushed her into spilling her secrets to you, highly doubting she had faced those terrors since they had happened.

You were indeed the only ghost she ever wanted in her life, floating through the halls of her house and whispering her name in her ear as soon as the sun set on the horizon, her bedroom bathed in the cool like of a full moon. But she had pushed you away, like the coward she was, afraid of what was blossoming in between the cracks of her broken heart, shards of red glass spread inside her chest. She had never thought anyone would be able to pick them up and put them together again, that someone who take an interest in a lost woman like herself, and as you had held her hand for the first time a week ago Joan had crumbled like a house of cards. She had melted into your touch, your smile lighting up the entire city as you pulled her out of her house and down the street, laughing and talking a thousand miles per minute about nothing and everything. She had listened to your every word, the sound of your voice a balm for her wounds as she let you to take her to the ends of the world, but when she had realised what was happening, that she had fallen for you she had pulled her hand from yours, forcing you to halt your steps and turn to her with a confused look on your face. Had you said or done something wrong? Why did she seem so upset all of a sudden? Without a word she had taken a step back from you, horror painting her features before she had run back to her house. She had refused to turn back as you called out her name, each time with a more pained tone, because if she had she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t have kissed you right there on the street, and she couldn’t be in love with someone like you.

What a joke it was now to think she had been so terrified of having something with you when the “Good book” was nothing more than a paper weight on her dining table. Verses about love sounded empty, just as hollow as was the void in her chest, the accusatory sermons she had heard over the years about what was supposed to be a happy marriage, how love should feel and look nothing more than poppycock as they echoed in her mind. I'm so scared that the moments we shared won't happen again. I don't want this to end. The radio had changed yet again, and it seemed to Joan as if it was connected to her, expressing what she could not bring herself to voice, terrified that if she opened up her heart all those verses that had been carved into her very being would crush her, punish her for not being who she was taught to be. But how could she carry on lying to herself? The Joan that had been blinded by God’s words had done things that should have made you run away, and yet you stayed, came back to her whenever she needed you without expecting anything but a smile in return. The Joan that now sat all alone in her big empty house, filled with demons brought by her own hand, could feel nothing knowing that the only chance at redeeming herself had been right there, in the palm of her hand and she had run away from it. You could have been the star that made her retrace her steps to the beginning of the road.

Like a leaf that falls from a tree, the cold breeze of winter making it sway from side to side, its broken edges slicing through the air, a single tear fell from her eyes, the crystal drop sliding down her cheek. It fell on her lap, sour and full of regret, and the once delicious wine tasted like a vile concoction the instant it touched her lips, but she forced herself to drink as if it could numb the pain of her past while her soft eyes stared at her bleak future, clouds only getting darker. No, it wasn’t God who punishing her, it was obvious he didn’t care enough about her to even do so, she was flagellating herself as if that could make the blood she had on her hands vanish, refusing to let anyone love her, crushing her own feelings as if she didn’t have the right to find happiness once again. She who is without sin, cast the first stone. The words stung her skin, fingers gripping the glass harder to the point where her knuckles turned white, the thin crystal cup threatening to shatter and splash wine and shards everywhere, but she didn’t stop. She could never pick up said stone, she could never throw it unless it was at herself, because she had done nothing but commit sin after sin thinking that they were justified, that she was being a good Christian woman when in truth she had strayed from the path long ago. Who was she following now? The Church? The Devil? Perhaps there was no one on the other side of those empty words preached every Sunday. Ain't it funny how time shows you, you know nothing.

The song finished, leaving a few seconds of complete silence to fill up the room, the flames of a few candles Joan had lit an hour ago or so the only source of light, casting wavy shadows onto the wood. When had everything gone wrong? With a silly voice the person doing the program on the radio spoke about the playlist they had ready for the next forty-five minutes, every song a message of love for everyone who celebrated this special holiday. Another scoff fell from Joan’s lips; it was Valentine’s Day, of course. She had barely left the house in the last three days, she had not seen the millions of flowers and balloons that filled up the stores, not the way your frame had been glued to your bedroom window hoping to get a glimpse of her, wondering why the sudden reluctance and fear of you. She hated the holiday, it felt frivolous, cold to her, and she hadn’t really had anyone to celebrate it with since Luke had been a child, her husband always busy, always emotionally unavailable, the house waiting for a bouquet that never arrived, a ring that remained at the store, a box of chocolate that went stale on the shelf where it rested. She had been s deep in thought that it took her a couple of minutes to hear the doorbell, the shrill sound almost making her ears bleed. She only wanted to be left alone so she could get drunk in her own sorrow until she could no longer breathe, but whoever was on the other side of her front door was not giving up, and after switching between knocks and that horrid bell for over five minutes Joan stood, the chair scraping angrily over her wooden floors.

She was angry at the interruption, and it showed in the way her heels echoed as she made her way to the door, grabbing the knob and throwing it wide open, the glass rattling as it hit the wall. Whatever she was going to say to whoever was on the other side faded into the ether as her eyes were met with the sight of a sea of flowers at her feet, a rainbow of colours gleaming under the soft light of the full moon that shone high up in the night sky. There were dozens of roses of every shade imaginable sprawled over the white pine wood, tulips, sunflowers, and what seemed a thousand more flowers resting in between. She was no stranger to gifts, small things that didn’t mean much like an old perfume or a silver bracelet in which her name was spelled wrong, but this was a whole new level. On the stairs, kneeling before Joan, you looked up at her, a lovely white dress subtly hugging your figure while a blue box rested on the palms of your hands. You had never looked so perfect before, smiling kindly up at her as your eyes held her gaze, something she couldn’t quite recognise dancing like stars on your irises, sparkling with a life that pulled her towards you like a magnet. Her brown heels took one single step forward, the wood creaking under her weight, her hand falling slowly from the doorknob and coming to rest on her side, her lips parted in surprise, a slight red colour lingering from the wine.  

-Y/N? – her voice sounded so raspy and raw, as if she hadn’t used it since the day she left you, and perhaps she had. No one had come to visit her ever since you had moved in next door, it would be no surprise, but that didn’t mean it was a pleasant thought.

-Hello, Joan.

-What are you doing here? What’s all this?

-121 flowers. One for each day I’ve known you, and all of them as an apology for whatever I did wrong the other day.

-This must have cost a fortune. – her feet brushed the soft petals of a purple tulip as her body moved closer to yours of its own accord, almost as if your skin was calling out to hers, her heart racing against her ribs nearly painfully.

-That doesn’t matter, you are worth this and much more, Joan.

-But why? – she had never felt so conflicted before, wishing you would take her in your arms and never let her go but knowing that whatever this was, if it was ever something and not just a hallucination of her mind, wasn’t right. But then why did she feel like you were her saviour and guide? Part of her would follow you blindly like Mary had followed Christ, sharing your burdens and kneeling at the foot of your cross ready to gather you in her arms. But the other held her back, keeping her in a prison that was her own mind, prejudices that had been taught to her all her life making her feel as if what her heart was saying to her, whispers spoken from in between the cracks, would condemn her to an eternity of pain. But wasn’t she already living like that? You had stood from your spot on the stairs, analysing the sadness that had laced her question as you stepped closer to her, barely a foot separating you, the blue box you had been holding now resting on the floor next to your feet.

-Because you don’t deserve what you are going through. I don’t care how many times Fiona tells me you are dangerous and that I can’t see you. I know you would do me no harm. I have heard your story on a loop from mouths that weren’t yours for months and it doesn’t seem fair. They have no right to tell your story.

-But they do, and people listen to them. Do yourself a favour Y/N and go home.  

Was she really about to give up on the only thing that had made her truly happy in years? Her hand hesitated to touch you, knowing it would be even harder to let you go the moment her touch starved soul caressed yours, but she indulged herself, at least one last time, and took your hand in hers, her thumb rubbing your soft skin. All the way from the dining hall a new song played, and it couldn’t have been a most perfectly cruel choice. Don't you know I'm no good for you? I've learned to lose you. Joan truly fought to keep her composure, to not break down before you had walked away, but you didn’t move and with the way you were looking at her as if she was the sun, the moon and all the stars combined her carefully crafted walls collapsed. Tears fell down her cheeks in quick succession, burning her flesh, and she almost expected you extract your hand from hers and leave her standing there drowning in her own grief the same way everyone else had, but your warmth never left.

You had never known of anyone who deserved love more than Joan, and at the sight of her tears, her very soul conflicted with who she was at this point in her life, unsure of what she wanted and what she felt she had the right to ask for, all translated into the tears that fell like sharp diamonds all the way to the cold hard wood under her feet you threw caution to the wind and gathered her in your arms. Her breath caught in her throat when she felt the palms of your hands on her back pressing her against your warm body, a sea of flowers and fallen petals in a circle around your feet, the sweet aroma enfolding her as much as your embrace did. Her thin dress was no obstacle for your heat to seep into her bones, easing all the aches that had settled deeply within her, listening to the way your heart beat slowly, almost in a perfect rhythm. But it was the touch of your lips, soft and tender, on her temple that had her sobbing into the crook of your neck. She could not do it, she could not watch you slip through her fingers after all the pain she had gone through, your presence the only thing she ever wanted in her life. My love, my love, my love, my love. Won't you stay a while? 

You would stay for all eternity if that’s what she wanted, if it meant healing her and seeing her smile as you shared the smallest of things, watching her find her own path, her own light and purpose out of all the teachings that had turned her into a woman she hadn’t recognised when standing in front of the mirror. Your fingers traced lazy patterns in between her shoulder blades as your other hand held her gently against your frame by the back on her neck, her tears leaving wet patches on your dress, though you cared very little about it. A chill drifted under the roofed porch, riding up Joan’s spine and making her shiver but she didn’t move, the grip her hands had on your gown making her knuckles turn white. If loving you, caring about you was such a horrible thing, a temptation from the Devil, why did it feel as if she was walking the heavens now that she was in your arms? Was she willing to risk eternal damnation in exchange for a lifetime with you? You had come back to her even after her fears and doubts had made her run away, and you had brought her a flower for every single day you had known each other; no one had ever done such a thing for her, she could not even recall the last time she had been given a single lilting flower, let alone 121.

-You don’t need to be so strong all the time Joan. Let yourself grief, I will be here to hold you and take what you can’t carry. Don’t believe for an instant that you are undeserving of love or understanding. Those who have not lived it all in your skin cannot see and feel the truths hidden in your mind. Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonour others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

Your voice was calm, soothing as each word fell from your lips like rain after a long draught and it filled every cell in her body with a sense of peace that halted her sobs and made her lift her head from your shoulder, red, puffy eyes locking onto yours. Were you an angel sent to her to return her to the rightful path, to the road built in the truths that were never written and therefor never changed, each stone an action that had no other witness but Him? There could be wrong in the way her heart raced as your words sunk deeply withing the cracks, no evil clouding her mind, making her stray for she was now exactly where she was meant to be, and your touch was nothing but glorious, a rejoicing song against her skin. Her face was only inches away from yours, your eyes counting every freckle that adorned her nose and cheeks, such an intimate position reminding her that that was the closest she had been to another person in years. The traces of a life she didn’t want to go back to lingered in everything she did and everything she said, habits that would take an entire lifetime to erase and yet she was willing to do so, as long as you were right beside her, reassuring her that everything would be alright every time those demons that haunted her came to claw at her free will, tempting her to fall back into the darkness she currently resided in, regret and fear her only companions.

Her chocolate eyes hid thousands of secrets, of untold stories that you wanted to hear, but not because you were a curious person or a gossip, which you supposed you were to a certain extent, but because they were simply hers and everything that belonged to her was, everything that was her, meant the world to you. You did not fight the feeling of your heart jumping a bit as you held her gaze, falling down rivers of sorrow and happiness that run underneath long oak bridges, their path taking you to where Joan’s broken soul laid, cracks running deeply from side to side as the light within her quivered dimly under the weight of everything that had happened. Your gentle hands could not heal the ill nor make the dead rise, but they could hold her steady as the wounds stitched themselves together, no more blood pooling in that void that had formed in her chest. The late-night breeze carried the words of song Joan didn’t know, sweet notes that danced in between specks of dust, floating lazily, twirling in a waltz that no one saw. And even though she was unfamiliar with the music, it somehow made your eyes glint under the silvery beams that bathed the pavement, moonlight casting a spell over the city, away from the yellow lights of the streetlamps. Now, I've thought it through. Crawling back to you.     

Over glass and burning embers, you would crawl on your hands and knees back to her, even if the world turned against you, even if there was nothing else worth living for, she would be the only reason you drew breath every morning as dawn broke through the horizon and as the thick veil of night covered the sky. The petals scattered on the floor glowed under the pearly beams, reflecting on Joan’s sun-kissed skin, translucent rainbows lingering on her cheeks, dripping over her full lips like honey, slow and perfectly sweet. Her hands didn’t want to release your dress, afraid you might vanish before her eyes and her brain realised that all this had been nothing but bitter dream induced by the lack of sleep and the wine, another punishment she was inflicting on herself, but she still did it, her fingers stiff as they released the warm fabric, discomfort building in her hands at the hard grip she had had on you. Your touch lingered for an instant longer, but when her arms fell to her sides you understood the moment had passed, and as much as your words were still echoing inside Joan’s mind, your fingers tenderly brushed the skin of her neck one last time before cold meet the spots where your warmth seeping from your palms had been.

It was a most odd sensation to feel a shiver running down her spine at the lack of your touch on her, wishing your hands were still on her. She could hardly recall when had been the last time her husband had held her hand, let alone kiss her on the cheek or look at her they way your eyes did, no fear or disgust shinning over them. She could not remember if anyone had ever bothered to go to the extents you had to show her they cared, to do something with a meaning, not just to fill up the purpose of the holiday and get her off their backs, and make her feel like perhaps there was hope for her. Standing in separate circles once again, you took the opportunity to kneel at her feet and pick up a single flower, a most perfect pink lily that Joan hadn’t noticed before, a little trick you had had up your sleeve, and in the most gentlemanly manner you could muster bowed and handed it to her. Her lips broke into a giddy smile, unable to stop it even if she had wanted to, her slender fingers taking hold of the stem and bringing it to her nose, the rich floral accents that fell from its petals, bright and deep pink tones painted on the inside with the utmost care as the edges stood out in a pristine white, never overshadowing the other, only blending to perfection as pastel pink dots laid scattered over the soft floral leaf, filling her lungs.

-Its beautiful Y/N. Thank you. – her timid smile was partially hidden by the flower, resting gently over her rosy lips, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t seen it or hadn’t noticed the tint that was spreading over her cheeks, a most enchanting shade of red complimenting her doe eyes.

-I’m glad you like it, but I’m not done yet. I have a few more things planned for us. That is of course, if… you want to be my Valentine.

-Your… your Valentine? Me?

-Yes. There’ no one else in the entire planet that I would rather spend this day with than you, Joan. Not a soul. – you had rendered her speechless for a moment, the thought of you actually asking her such a thing never having crossed her mind, which was foolish really. You had done all this because you wanted to spend this holiday with her. She was aware that her smile was that of a shocked by lovesick teenager now, her heart fluttering like butterflies trapped in a cage begging to be released, using the lily as a shield to hide her ever-growing blush from your piercing by kind eyes.

-I… I think I would like that. Very much.

-Then please, take this as a token of my affections for you.    

She had completely forgotten about the blue box that rested next to your feet, a white ribbon tying it closed so its contents wouldn’t be spilt all over her front porch, Joan’s eyes watching as your body quickly bent over to pick it up. She still held the flower in between her fingers, cool under its touch, as you presented yet another gift to her, curiosity peeking for the second time that night, but she didn’t want to let go of the lily, and so with quick hands she placed it on the side of her head, the smooth petals caressing her temple as the she secured the flower by threading the stem in between a few locks of hair and the claw clip that held the silky strands on the back of her head. She would wear it all night long and put it in a vase with water next to her bed when the day was done and sleep began to creep up on her, wishing to close her eyes to its sight and wake up to it as well, the gesture forever engraved in her mind. With both hands now free her fingers made quick work of the bow and ribbon, the rough material resting over your palms, and with shaky limbs, anticipation building quickly within her, she pushed the top off.

-Oh, Y/N! – wasn’t it a most melodious sound to hear her laugh? Those loud tones, unapologetic as they echoed in the night, sweet as happiness poured out of them in quick succession, her smile only growing bigger as sparks shone in her eyes. One thing was to hear her chuckle, maybe even be granted the honour of hearing a soft laugh pass her plump lips, and another far more magical and sublime was to hear that rumbling sound sliding with easy from her throat, being you and only you the cause and the benefactor of such a sound. There were no gold necklaces or platinum bracelets resting over expensive layers of velvets, no seas of diamonds or rubies that could adorn her collarbones or her fingers, not even a unique bottle of scotch waiting for her inside that box, and yet what was presented to her held a much deeper meaning and an aura of love and care that she appreciated far more than all the jewellery money could buy. Twenty small doughnuts were neatly placed on top of a pink sheet of parchment paper, white melted chocolate displayed on top of the spongy dough as red icing spelled “ Happy Valentine’s Joan”, purple, red, white and pink sprinkles decorating each pastry to perfection, the last doughnut of the batch being the only one shaped as a heart, covered in ruby chocolate and with what looked like some sort of jam spilling from its insides.

-I made them myself. The first batch burned because I didn’t hear the oven go off, but I think these ones turned out pretty good. I hope you like them.

-They are wonderful. And beautiful. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble for me you know?

-It’s no trouble, at all Joan. Anything that I make for you is never a chore or a task. I enjoy it, trust me. – she did, she could not find a single reason not to do so when your intentions shone as pure as snow, no hidden requests or lies masked as innocent compliments. There was no venom in your smile, no evil behind your beautiful eyes, only genuine care for her that made her all warm and fuzzy, a feeling she had forgotten about, a sensation she wondered for a moment if she had ever truly felt. You took one step towards her, the edge of the box barely an inch from her bosom, the chill breeze that had been lazily twirling around the both of you now picking up slightly, goosebumps and shivers making you shake on your spot. -Could I come in? It’s getting colder and I still have one more thing to give you.

-Another present? Greed is not a friend that one should engage with Y/N.

-It is not greed, I assure you. I did not buy it, and in truth it’s more of a necessity. – her narrowed a little but her smile never faltered, not for a minute, the lily in her hair matching the blush that painted her cheeks.

-Alright, come on in. – she took a few steps back until her heels clacked over the wooden floors of her entryway, watching as you made your way to her door carefully as not to crush any of the flowers under your feet. She would figure out tomorrow morning what to do with them all, for now, she liked to think they were simply guarding her home. You picked up quickly on the musty smell that floated in the air, clinging to the drawn curtains, darkness spreading through every room like a wildfire, a pang of sadness slamming you on the chest as you made your way to the dining room. The candles Joan had lit hours ago barely had any wax left, the flames dimming with each passing second, the lonely bottle of wine along with the half-drunk glass resting and glistening under the flickering light. You had no taste for such a drink, but it was obvious that the burgundy liquid was a common guest in Joan’s house, a hint of shame in her eyes as you looked at her over your shoulder. Carefully not to make the glass tumble and ruin both the table and the floor you left the box of doughnuts beside one of the silver candlesticks, white wax embedded in the crevasses of a swan engraved in the metal, checking that the pastries were all still intact before turning to face Joan, a bright smile on your face to overshine the downcast look that had taken her hostage.

-Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.

Like the perfect summer breeze your perfume caressed her face as you walked past her, your hand brushing hers, fingers timidly kissing each other for an instant that ended too soon, leaving a tingling sensation on her skin that travelled like electricity up her arm to her elbow. Watching you walking back to the front door, your dress flowing around your knees, she stood in the poorly lit room, cursing herself for the way the house betrayed her and screamed silently about her state of mind, long curtains refusing to let the cold breeze of February in. Hoping you didn’t think less of her she rushed towards the closet window, pushing the heavy fabrics to the sides and unlatching the frames, pushing the glass upwards until the cold wind of the night burst in unannounced but not unwelcome. Shivers ran down her spine, but she pushed through, repeating the motion for the other two windows that were left, that stale stench she had mentally complained about not that long ago losing the fresh crisp air that was now filling the room. It wasn’t that she hadn’t cleaned the house in months, she still woke up every morning with a task to fill all those dead hours that lay ahead of her, but she had neglected certain aspects that would have clashed with her mood, the need to keep herself secluded, detained in her own home as much as she was by her mind, preventing her from enjoying the simple sight of the sunlight breaking through her front door, or basking in its warmth by the window with a hot cup of tea cradled in her hands. She had no right to such simple things after everything, she thought.

But now the room was bathed in perfect waves of silver and platinum, strings of pearly dust floating along to the sweet voices that still played on the radio, the wind that now rushed through the house kissing the flickering flames goodbye as one by one they vanished into rivulets of smoke. Standing in the doorway your eyes raked over Joan’s frame as moonlight rained over her, her deep eyes holding your gaze, sparkling under its silvery touch. Never before had a person been more beautiful than her, her blue dress like an ocean enfolding her curves, her hair shining under the glow of the pink petals that caressed her temple, the soft breeze that came from the windows kissing her skin and twirling around her like currents, transparent foam around her feet. It's you, it's you, it's all for you. Everything I do. I tell you all the time. Heaven is a place on earth with you. Words had never spoken bigger truths. All for Joan, so she would grant you entrance to the Heaven that clung to her skin, your lips begging to worship the ground she walked on, the air she breathed, the clothes she wore and hoping that one day you would be able to cross the threshold on her bedroom and lay beside her in that bed that claimed her holy body each night. With slow steps you made your way to the table once more and placed two paper bags gently over the wood, eyes never straying from her form, fighting not to blink should you miss a single thing about her.

She walked towards you, her gentle movements a sight for sore eyes, approaching you as if she hadn’t noticed the way your sight lingered on her and drank her in, and perhaps it had been so. Joan was unused to being the object of people’s affections, it would be no surprise if she had mistaken your actions for nothing more than admiration, but inside the woman’s chest, her heart slammed against her ribs with each beat, a million butterflies fluttering inside her, thanking the darkness of the room that had kept her blush at bay from your beautiful eyes. Without a word each of you worked on a bag, a comfortable silence accompanying your actions as the song carried on softly in the background, a few containers with food lay on the table after a few minutes, the delicious aroma of well-cooked and homemade dishes reaching Joan’s nose, making her mouth water as she turned to look at you, surprise and a hint of gratitude painted on her face. It had been far too long since she had had something that hadn’t been a premade meal, her constant internal battle and continuous self-sabotage leaving her drained and unable to do one of the things she loved the most. Lifting one of the lids, the smell of rosemary filled the room, her eyes as wide as saucers as slices of a rotisserie chicken stood out from under what she was sure was a delicious sauce.

-You made and brought me dinner? That’s the surprise you had for me?

-I know it’s not as grand or greedy as a night in town or a diamond necklace, but I thought this would be much better for you. I’ve made enough so that you’ll be able to eat for at least a week.

-Y/N… I… You don’t know how much this means to me. You really are a blessing. – her hands rested tenderly on your cheeks, her smile as big as the entire universe and so bright that she could light the whole house, but her palms didn’t remain on your skin for too long, and you didn’t stop her when they left a cold spot over your flesh. It was obvious things would have to be done at her pace.

-I’m happy you like it. Why don’t you bring some plates while I open the rest?

Her steps were quick as she made a beeline for the kitchen, leaving you in charge of everything else. A most exquisite sea of aromas overwhelmed the crisp air of the dining room, salty condiments along with tomato and herbs dancing in perfect unison as you placed the main dish of the night, baked parmesan chicken on a bed of angel hair pasta with green beans and roasted potatoes as sides, beside the glass of red wine. You truly hoped to steer her away from the burgundy drink before dinner started, but at the same time you didn’t wish to make her feel self-conscious about it, as if she was doing something wrong when she was a grown woman who could make her own decisions. But there was no time to indulge in that train of thought as she came back with two plates and cutlery in one hand while she juggled two glasses and a pitch of water in the other. Of course, you rushed to her aid and were thanked with the sight of that tender smile she seemed to have reserved just for you.

-You really have outdone yourself.

-Thank you. I had the kitchen all to myself today, so I was able to prepare everything with all the care in the world. Where do you keep your candles?

-It’s okay, I’ll get them. – the radio rested on top of a set of drawers, Joan heading its way and pulling the first one open before returning to the table, two long white candles in her hand that she exchanged for the old ones. Just as she was about to head back to the kitchen, to get matches, you thought, your hand shot out to grab her wrist, the sudden touch making her whip her head towards you, a wary veil of confusion covering her features.

-Let me. – without letting her go, the grasp on her skin never too strong, allowing her to pry her hand away should she wish to, the fingers of your right hand touched each wick, observing happily how in less than an instant the warm light of a flame bathed the room, colliding with the cool tones that they moon cast inside the house, orange and silver fighting as they reflected on Joan’s pink cheeks. Her big eyes shone under the orange light, like melted chocolate that called out to you, her gaze glued to the candles as the flames flickered steadily, amazement hiding behind her perfect irises. You could not say that you were not proud to have rendered her speechless once again. She was no stranger to what people called magic, but the way you used it, you seemed to have a relationship, some sort of understanding of your own abilities that she had never seen before, didn’t make her feel fear anymore. She felt curious about what else you were capable of, but was too worried about you taking offense that she didn’t ask and simply basked in the beauty of such a domestic task. – Now we can eat. Are you okay Joan?

-What? Oh, yes, perfectly alright. Before we have what clearly looks like a delicious meal I was wondering if we could have one of those doughnuts you brought.

-Of course. Which letter do you fancy?

-I was thinking we could share the heart. One half for you and the other for me, if you are agreeable.

-Absolutely.       

 The cardboard made a scratching sound as you lifted the top, and with careful fingers you pried it from the parchment paper and placed it on one of the plates she had brought, the knife slicing through the middle as if it were butter, stains of pink chocolate and red jam over the metal. Joan took her half of the pastry, muttering a thank you, and slowly took a bite savouring the fluffiness of the dough and the sweetness of the chocolate, the flavour removing the bitter aftertaste the wine had left on her tongue. But the calm moment didn’t last for too long, the acidity of the jam hitting her as if she had just been run over by a car, not because it was too strong or bad, but because it was raspberry jam. She could recall as if she had done it that same morning, going down to the market with little Luke grasping her hand, holding onto her and looking up at her with his big adoring eyes, asking her if he could have some ice cream, the wicker basket she had in her other hand heavy with all the food she had bought. Every Saturday morning would be the same. She would get up and get ready for the day before heading to her son’s room, opening his teddy bear curtains so the sun could come through the window, drool falling from his mouth onto the pillow as he slept, one of his front teeth missing.

Getting him up and ready was her first task of the day, his groggy form sagging against her chest and shoulder as she picked him up and took him to the kitchen, a bowl of cereal waiting for him as she made herself a cup of coffee. She could hear his rumbling as the radio played, talking a thousand miles a minute about whatever he had done in school the previous day, mentioning his friends and teachers and speaking of how elephants were big and grey and hamster so small, cupping his tiny hands as to make his point clearer to his mom. Those morning watching him be so utterly excited about the most mundane of things lingered in her mind, memories that she had revisited so many times as her boy grew, feeling as if she was losing him, as if those moments had vanished into nothing. She would have done anything to go back to all that, to stumbling up the stairs to help him dress as she told him gently that he needed to pick up his toys, brushing his unruly hair before walking out the door with her basket, Luke trailing behind her sometimes with his fish plushie and sometimes not, her attention having to drift from the pavement to her boy and his friend Nemo. They would walk between each stall and Joan would tenderly answer and explain everything that her beautiful boy asked, not caring how many hours they spent out in the streets as long as Luke remained by her side, the warm sun rising higher and higher in the sky.

The feeling of his little fingers, soft and smooth against her palm, lingered on her skin still, as if she could look down and see him standing there with scraped knees, begging her to kiss his pain away, cheeks pink and fat tears falling from his eyes, after taking a tumble with a rock. She could almost feel him pulling on her arm as his eyes landed on his favourite stall, pounds and pounds of raspberries waiting for him, the boxes a few inches above his head. His excitement was always contagious, his toothy smile matching the one on her lips as they made their way towards the grocer. The first time he had seen them his eyes had been wide as saucers, pointing at the red fruits, amazed at the quantity and hadn’t stopped asking to have one until finally Joan had given in and bought a pound of them, knowing that even if Luke didn’t like them, she could still use them and eat them herself. He had fallen in love almost instantly and when they got home the bag had barely lasted more than a few days, so the next Saturday she had purchased more had told her boy that they would make jam with some of them as a treat for how well he was doing in school. He had been so excited that that night he had woken her up almost every hour to ask her if it was time, his thrilled tone preventing her from scolding him, strands of his hair sticking in different directions and his body dressed in a pair of yellow pyjamas with a big giraffe on his t-shirt.

A onetime thing soon became a habit, a special moment they shared every Saturday once they were done at the market, his steps jolly and bouncy as they walked down the street, Luke pointing at every single thing his curious eyes could see as if Joan wasn’t to used to them already, and she indulged him, because he was her little boy, her everything. And now she only had those, the bittersweet memories of a happy life that had turned into dust all because of her own selfish wants and needs, because she could not heal from a broken heart and let her grief and sorrow lead her in life. She had been so sure she was doing the right thing for Luke, following the scriptures her priest had provided her with, telling her that the only way Luke would grow to be the man she wanted him to be was by making sure temptation never entered her house, keeping him secluded with her and following the Lord’s teachings without question. She had not doubted that man’s words, too distraught to even consider that that was not the way, that God was love, not fear, that he was everyone’s father and loved each of his children without expecting anything in return. And yet she had followed him blindly, losing herself in the process and ruining her boy with each day that she punished him for not doing what she had been taught was right.

She had tried so hard to keep him safe, paranoid that temptation hid in every corner that she had forgotten who God was and what his son had preached, stealing Luke away from Nan as if she was the Devil herself all because she had a gift no one else she had ever met had. She had driven her son away, lost that little boy who used to fall asleep in her arms as she sang lullabies and with whom she used to make raspberry jam. The pain that crawled under her skin was beyond anything she had ever felt, as if millions of daggers were stabbing her, blood pouring out of each wound as tears fell down her cheeks, fire burning her flesh, guilt and disgust poisoning and rotting her blood in her veins. She had killed her boy, her reason for being alive, her very soul, because to her there had been no other truth but that of the “Good book”, her narrowminded thoughts having turned her into the biggest hypocrite and selfish woman she had ever known, refusing to believe her actions had been wrong until now. Her baby was gone because she hadn’t wanted him to be with someone like Nan, a girl she had called a servant of Satan, an abomination that walked the Earth, and who had taken her life now that Luke was no longer there with her. She wished to rip her skin off, to escape this agony that crushed her under its inevitable weight, but there was no way out.

How wrong she had been, her own mind betraying everything she had ever loved and cherished and turning her into a monster. How could you be there with her, speaking of love and bringing her gifts when she had killed her son? Her Luke. The name escaped from her lips as realization fell harshly over her, the fact that she was here with you, a woman, her feelings betraying everything she had ever known and been told about love, a most needed but agonising wake-up call. She had put her son through Hell in the name of a God that had forsaken her, that had abandoned her and left her in the dark when she had needed him the most, bringing forth a side of her that had not hesitated to claim her own son’s life so that the secret of her husband’s death would never be brought to light and to ensure that her perfect boy’s soul remained pure, untainted by the girl he had fallen for. How could pain be so raw, so overwhelming and vast that it caused one to want to rip their own heart from their chest? She had carried him, birthed him and held him to her as she told him that love would find him when the time was right, only to refuse him the gift of a happy life with her own bare hands. There wasn’t enough air in the entire planet for her to breathe, her throat refusing to swallow not even an ounce of oxygen, her lungs begging for it as sobs rocked her body.

A thousand emotions had rushed through her eyes the instant she had taken that first and only bite. One moment there had been the sweetest of the smiles gracing her lips and the next tears had begun to pour as her gaze became lost in a world of her own, the atmosphere clinging onto the regret and sorrow that seeped from her body. And then her son’s name had fallen from her lips and the last piece of the puzzle was finally in its rightful place. You had stood as fast as your body had allowed you and wrapped your arms around her trembling frame, the pastry forgotten on the ground by her feet. These tears were different from the ones she had shed a few moments before, they were harsh and sharp as daggers and they were accompanied by the grieving sound of a mother who no longer had a child, a mother who would never get to see her baby become an adult and have a life of his own.

-It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here.

-I… did it… Y/N… - her voice was muffled by her head hiding on your chest, hands gripping the neckline of your dress in despair.

-I know, Jo, I know.

-I didn’t… I didn’t want to… He was my baby! My only baby… - had the Devil taken reign of her senses and clouded her mind with false verses? She would have never laid a single finger on her little boy, not even to discipline him and yet she had caused him harm far too many times to count. She could not escape this pain, this feeling that she had no right to feel anything but grief, to let it consume her. Undeserving of your love and your kind words. Underserving of having you in her life, your mere existence bringing forth a happiness that she had denied to her own flesh and blood.

-I know, my darling. Let it out. There is nothing you could do that would make me leave you, so grieve. You have lost your son, there is no greater pain than that.

You had never heard a sound so frightening and yet so heartbreaking slip out of someone’s throat like the scream that was ripped from Joan’s chest. It came from so deep within her that it made her entire body shake and tremble, rattling her very soul, the sound vibrating through your skin like a thousand needles. It was blood curling and hellish in execution, so full of anger, regret, and pain that it mixed into the most agonizing sound a human could ever produce and yet should never hear. Nothing could have prepared her for the sheer emptiness that coursed through her veins, for the way she wanted to claw at her own skin to make it all stop hurting, begging in between sobs to turn back time, to return to how things had been once upon a time, when it had been her and Luke against the world. Before her mind had been poisoned by false words and her entire life had lost its meaning. She could have carried on screaming for all eternity, blood filling her lungs as she choked on her own remorse, but she was too broken to even hold the sound for too long, and after a few moments it blended back into sobs. It had been four months since she had lost the most precious thing in her little universe and it was only now that she was feeling all that anguish for the first time, all the grief slamming onto her at full force, knocking her off her feet and making her tumble and crumple to the floor.  There would be no more helping him with his math work, no more cuddling him to sleep when he was sick, no more Saturdays at the market. No more raspberry jams.

Her tired body melted slowly in your arms with each passing second, her tears pooling in the neckline of your dress leaving a cold spot on the skin underneath that the breeze was not gentle with, shivers running down your arms as it sliced through your flesh. You could not imagine what thoughts swirled in her head, what memories were haunting her as her boy’s name fell from her lips over and over, as if that simple action could bring him back, but the house remained quiet, cold, and empty, even the light of the candles seeming to have lost all its warmth as the flames flickered gently. The only sounds echoing against the bare walls, empty frames hanging over the floral wallpaper, were Joan’s sobs, or at least the only sounds you were paying attention to, rubbing comforting circles on her back as your other hand caressed her soft hair, for the radio carried on playing. I wish that Heaven had visiting hours, and I would ask them if I could take you home. The words floated around Joan’s head, begging her to listen, making a lump form in her throat as her heart bled inside her chest, the crimson liquid puddled on the floor under the shard of her completely shattered life. But a glimpse of light shone amongst all the darkness, your voice hushed and tender as you spoke the last verse of the song against her temple, the lily slightly crumpled but nevertheless beautiful.

-And I will close the door, but I will open up my heart. And everyone I love will know exactly who you are. Cause this is not goodbye; it is just 'til we meet again. So much has changed since you've been away. - An entire lifetime had happened since she had lost him, and not once, not even for an instant, had her boy left her thoughts. She almost expected still to see him walking down the hall or stealing a bite before dinner, to find him in his room playing that horrible music she despised so much as he did his homework, but he wasn’t even a ghost haunting her. She would have given her soul, as blasphemous as she knew that was, for one more day with him, to explain, to look at his face and engrave the colour of his eyes in her mind for all eternity. With tears still streaming down her face she lifted her head to gaze upon yours, a question on the tip of her tongue that she couldn’t bring herself to say. Would he forgive her if she could talk to him one last time?

-Y/N…

-What? Talk to me, Joan.

-Luke… I… Would he… - why was it so hard? Why did those words seem to weigh like a thousand rocks? Her grip was even stronger now, her eyes pleading for you to understand, to look deep inside her and pry the question from the very essence of her being so she would not crumble at your feet once again. Your voice did not hesitate to respond.

-He would. He would listen to your every word, and at first, he would be mad, furious even, but it wouldn’t be for the reasons you think. He would be angry because you were so deeply hurt, so broken, that your pain made you ask for help from people you trusted only for them to deceive you. He would not diminish your doings, and he would be upset at the extent of your own actions, but with time he would have understood that you only did it because you thought it was the right way. You are his mother and always will be, and you have repented for what you did.

-But what I did was evil, something so brutal that I fear has no possible salvation. I killed my own son, Y/N.

- “For you became sorrowful as God intended and so were not harmed in any way by us. Godly sorrow brings repentance that leads to salvation and leaves no regret”. You have walked this path alone Joan, you have grieved and cried in remorse for what you have done, and He, who cares for us all has seen it and has forgiven you. Luke would do the same, because you are his mother and he would not want to see you like this, broken and battered by your own hand.

-But I deserve it. I am no better than all those people who drove me to this point and then abandoned me.

-You are Joan, you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and one that needs to heal from all the horrible things that have happened to you. You are free from them, from the chains that held you down with false hopes and lies dressed in empty promises, and it is that, and only that, that would make Luke forgive you. You are deserving of love, and you must not think that your little boy would not be thrilled to have the mother he so loved back in his arms. “Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy”.

Your words, coupled with the tender, caring tone you used soothed her pain like nothing had ever before, and for the first time in years, she felt as if she could breathe, as if the air filling her lungs wasn’t rotten anymore. She would be forgiven. Her precious baby boy wouldn’t look at her like she was the worst human in history, pointing accusingly at her while telling her that it was all her fault, that she had brought this agony onto herself. There was hope for her to find happiness once again, to let the gentle rays of sunlight burst through her windows and for her to not run away as if her skin would blister at the feeling, the warm light bathing her house, the silence that had settle so deeply in each beam and wall fading as the sound of birds chirping and voices coming from the street filled each room. Her eyes glistened under the flames, orange and yellow tinges caressing her perfect chocolate irises, so full of hope and dreams she had not even dared to think about before, tears no longer falling but leaving wet paths over her cheeks. With a tender touch your thumbs wiped them away, and with that motion, your fingers ripped the weight that had been crushing her from her flesh, guilt and shame fading into acceptance and understanding as her penitence ended. She had taken accountability for her actions and in return she had been granted a second chance. She had been gifted with your presence and your love.

This time she didn’t let go of you, not caring if your face was only inches from hers, if she could breathe your sweet perfume, a blend of berries and vanilla, deep within her, its soft tendrils enfolding her essence the same way your hands were cradling her face. It would have been so easy to kiss her, to brush your lips against hers, but if you were going to do this, if you were going to walk this path with her, hand in hand, you could wait until she was sure, until her body spoke to you and asked in a silent plea for your touch. The radio was silent for a moment, only the sound of Joan’s sniffles filling up the room, her warmth seeping under your skin, and in an instant her hands released your dress, disappointment crossing your eyes, only to be delighted and surprised as she place her palms over the back of your hands, her heat wrapping around you like a blanket, shielding you from the cold that was breaking through the windows. At that moment in time, there was nothing but Joan and the blossoming lily in her hair, no past, no future, just her. Joan, wrap me up in all your, I want you in my arms.

Her hands were in yours, and with a gentleness she could not get used to you lifted her from her seat, pulling her body away from the table and into an empty spot where the carpet covered the wooden floors. Coming to stand next to the windows she let you do whatever you wanted, take her to the ends of the world if you so desired, because under the silvery beams that swayed in the night, she knew she would give you everything you asked from her as long as you never stopped looking at her as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Your hands guided hers to your shoulders, her fingers feeling the cotton of your dress around your neck, strands of your soft hair teasing her knuckles as your arms snaked around her waist, the gap between you vanishing as each of your bubbles became one, you in her personal space and Joan in yours, no fear or reservations clouding her mind. Oh, let me hold you. I'll never let you go again like I did. Never would you leave her, never would she have to face the world on her own, never would you let her go as long as your body drew breath, and your soul belonged to her. Slowly your feet began to sway from side to side, Joan’s frame molded to yours and following suit, her gaze never straying from your enchanting eyes.

Dancing lazily with her made your little heart leap with joy, a petal suddenly falling all the way from the tall ceiling, oscillating gently as its pristine white colour shone under the moonlight, blending into the same shade of pink Joan’s lily wore as it touched the ground. Then another fell as you pulled her closer, her chest against yours, her fingers twirling your hair in between them as the palms of your hands held onto her waist, a soft touch of sandalwood reaching your nostrils as her hair brushed against your check, her head coming to rest on your right shoulder. Her chin dug gently onto your flesh over the cotton of your white dress, her eyes watching in amazement at the way the room filled with the floral aroma of roses, petal after petal filling the room, a most perfect sight to match a most perfect you. A couple of flower leaves soon turned into a gentle shower of them, dozens swaying in the chilly breeze as the two of you danced, the top of her head resting against your cheek, the moonbeams never faltering in its glow, the flickering flames never ceasing to shower the room with their warmth as a sea of petals laid at your feet. In your arms Joan came to one last conclusion: God had never forsaken her, he had seen her lost in the dark and had sent you to her, to guide her and love her the way she had never been before, to return her to the right path with you by her side, her son’s forgiveness her banner and your love her shield. From now and for all eternity.  I would never fall in love again until I found her. I said, "I would never fall unless it's you I fall into".

[afantasyoffiction]

buddie fic recs part THREE!

see the links for part one and part two! i cannot believe i am so easily convinced to face my feral ao3 history

canon compliant (ish) up to a prior season

The Best Lie is a Truth (My Best Mask is My Face) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels is AMAZING and a fakedating au. i literally love this writer so so so much. so much squealing giggling kicking my feet, DEFINITELY a comfort read

losing dog by tofana - oof. idk if this is 'comfort' but it is deliciously angsty

sounds of someday by lecornergirl. oh my god this gave me a fucking aneurysm the FLUFF the ANGST the STRESS. delightful, absolutely delicious soup

Family line by Cheerios_me_lovely - established relationship, hating on the bio parents which we love, very cutesy

post-hiatus fics

i'm still angry at my parents (for what their parents did to them) by allthestarsofneptune. this is a wip but its also AMAZING and chris pov so...

aus that are basically alternate canons to me now

Smoke Fills the Lungs like a Disease by xompeii - foster care buck au which is just heartwrenching

I Didn't Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. by schrijverr - marriage of convenience buddie which im finally update on!!! oof when i tell you its a slow burn

fics ive already recommended and will continue to do so until i dieeeeeeeeee

racing with the brakes cut by letmetellyluaboutmyfeels. holy shit holy SHIT this one was good. altered my brain chemistry good and its a fast and furious au

your fingerprints smeared on my heart (lead my back to you) by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels. oh god oh GODS this one WRECKED ME. 1800s buddie soulmate au with modern buddie as well jfc i WENT INSANE. are we seeing a theme? i LOVE this author soooo freaking much

when the universe screams by bucksbelly. omfg girl dad buck au? njwnasjdbvjhlsdfbfjh good lord this one was AMAZING go read it go read it right now

our secret moments in a crowded room (they've got no idea about me and you) by allstarsneptune. jfc im only human ok u give me sports players taylor swift themed au and i EAT THAT SHIT UP this was brilliant and even made me tolerate a few baseball references

i'll run to you (there's no place i wouldn't go) by kabnd. listen. listen. if tim minear copied this exactly??? giving credit obvi? i would DIE its ALL I NEED.

am i allowed to self plug at this point??? (a_fantasy_2 on ao3)

just to sit outside your door - buddie post-hiatus wip

if I glued myself shut (you would find your way in) - buck's pov during the 'are his concerns your concerns', feeling realisation

you've haunted me so stunningly - eddie pov during the post -lightning convo w buck, based on that amazing edit making the rounds rn

just to sit outside of your (ipad screen) light - eddie post-hiatus mini fic, feelings realisation

Also, I’m feeling like a major fuck up right now. I def need some Buddie comfort fic recs.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I made a few new wax seal stamps out of clay (like the ones I did for my worldbuilding stuff forever ago), this time just of random symbols that I thought might look good done in the style of painting over the raised part of the wax or etc. :0c Some of them aren't carved deep enough to really show up that well, but overall they worked okay for being clay lol

[psychopomp-namine]

yingdu episode 5 spoilers

ohhh my god this is everything I want from cheng xiaoshi. yes. perfect. sorry, but I'm a cheng xiaoshi whump liker and link click always brings out the best of them in episode 5 of each season.

there's just something cathartic about how when cheng xiaoshi becomes an emotional mess, it's also when he's most disconnected with the people he knows (physically, as he's diving in a photo and his only link to his home timeframe is a disembodied lu guang in his head) but it's also when he's most connected with strangers (when their own personal trauma lines up with his). to me, it's a showcase of empathy and a strange manifestation of his own agency. something about how the disconnect gives him the space to blow up, and the connection heightens it and grants him permission, almost, to express his anger more freely for his own sake and for another person's behalf.

like. listen, okay, I'm gonna ramble now because cheng xiaoshi is my favorite character in this entire show, but listen. sometimes some fans will conflate adjectives to his character that are usually associated with his character archetype, but they aren't necessarily true about him as a character. and I don't mean it in a, "he's not like that because he grows out of those traits" kind of way. I mean it in a, "he was never like that" kind of way.

one of those adjectives, for me, is when people call him immature. he isn't! to me! imo! he's got big emotions, yes, but I personally don't think the presence of big emotions indicates anything about maturity. because you know what? as long as his primary trauma (feelings of abandonment) isn't touched, he is very good at handling interpersonal conflicts, and that's what's interesting to me.

qiao ling hides relevant information from him? he removes himself from the situation to give himself space and sort out his feelings. he tells her he's fine and that he'll be back.

post-earthquake arc? I'll just copy paste what I already said in a previous ask:

what initially got me was when I was first watching S1, I thought the earthquake arc would have devastating effects on [shiguang's] relationship. listen, I didn’t know what I was getting into with link click, but I thought that was expected. it’s ripe for drama! but how do they handle the fight? they put their side business on hold but they still keep being roommates. they still do their day job. they still talk. they’re still upset but they give each other space but not to the point where they can’t stand existing in each other’s spaces. that’s when I realized that oh, they really trust each other. they have a very solid foundation for their relationship that not even the earthquake arc can break. they’re pretty level-headed about this, actually, all things considered? all the doomed yaoi stuff came later, but that’s just the cherry on top. it’s the way they handled conflict and disappointment in S1 that got me.

okay, protect-namine, why go through that whole tangent? BECAUSE! circling back to yingdu episode 5, we finally, finally get to see cheng xiaoshi let out some of his anger. and it's precisely because his primary trauma point was on the table. he can forgive a friend lying, and he can forgive being told not to change the past. because at the end of the day, qiao ling and lu guang stayed. they never left him.

but he cannot handle abandonment. he cannot understand why people leave. he cannot understand why he's been clinging on to false hope this entire time. and more importantly, he cannot understand how someone can be such a hypocrite about it. "a man who'd rather be kind to strangers than face his own son" like fuck man. cheng weimin you fucked up so bad.

it's the disconnect/connect thing again too. thematically, it makes sense. when does cheng xiaoshi blow up? when he's alone, far away from the people that ground him. alone, the feeling he hates the most. he's not even in his own body. he blows up when he's inhabiting a stranger's. he doesn't even get to be angry as cheng xiaoshi.

how fucked up is that. man. I love him so much.

also I'm going crazyyyy over the family themes going on in link click. much to say about the show itself across all seasons (the twins, qiao ling and cheng xiaoshi, even the liu siblings), but for this episode... god. okay this is slight speculation territory now and I'll try to keep this very short, because this is only tangential to the post. but. imagine xia fei getting the good parent figure in cheng weimin that cheng xiaoshi never had. and he doesn't know!! he's bitter inside about his dad and he's having hotpot with xia fei and he doesn't know he was in that school!! fuck that's so good. that's so juicy.

okay, sorry, I have a lot of feelings about cheng xiaoshi. he's my link click blorbo of all time, and I love when he experiences The Horrors™ because it's also when other sides of him gets to shine.

on a brighter note:

VEIN AND CHENG XIAOSHI MEETING AGAIN!!! their greeting was so cute. also omg does xia fei know? that his boss is maybe possibly a cannibal? actually, wait, I don't think I'd be surprised if he does know.

ah and finally. finally:

I've been having many thoughts on how yingdu approaches "friendships" and their transactional nature (mostly with regards to liu xiao) but I mostly thought they're headcanon stuff. but now. I'm so so happy that episode 5 is bringing out more of the quid pro quo theme. liu xiao with the gift giving. wang qing's "friends" (bullies) demanding her to cheat on the exam for them. and now, vein and cheng xiaoshi having a friendly greeting but also exchanging favors. so good. so good. it goes along with how there's so much handshakes and handholding this season (not just with lu guang and cheng xiaoshi, but with cheng xiaoshi and the the antagonist trio too, who have all met him by "helping" him in some way). something something trust and favors. probably something that deserves its own post though, but I wanted to point this out because I am soooo here for that. it's goes hand in hand (ha!) with the whole fraud/lies vs innocence/honesty theme this season, and deals/contracts being an equalizer to the two. very good. very tasty.

edit: ooh they also point to this in the YE6 trailer too. nice, nice. if you knew someone's true colors, would you still be their friend?

man, I love episode 5. it just hits all the stuff I personally wanted to see. the only flaw is that we still haven't seen the older version of wang qing, but yeah I kinda expected that they'll hide her until episode 6. they're giving her the liu xiao treatment from season 2. sigh. really wish she'd keep showing up in S3, we need more female characters in this show 🙏

[welcometogrouchland]

I'm going to be so real I do not understand tim & steph shippers who feel that Steph dating Tim again would save her character. You can make an argument that giving Tim a more compelling love interest would be beneficial for him! And you can at least make an argument that the fujo mischaracterization of Steph would stop. However she'd still, inevitably, be treated as a prop character/extension for someone more popular 😭 it also wouldn't make her appear in more books! Tim doesn't have many frequent appearances at the moment either! You can just say you like the couple and want them back together without acting like you have some kind of moral stance

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[riddlebanshee]

I can't believe I've had the exact same intense, recurring interesting in One Specific Piece Of Media since I was 10

[parkitaco]

i had to go look up what you're talking about lmao but like the anon was obviously a mean spirited asshole but you straight up asked people to tell you their opinion on your steve voice....

yk what anon i see where ur coming from but i also said be nice. and that's a real fucking easy thing to do. so you can fuck off too <3