#mari my beloved 💜💜💜

[mariazalea143]

"I'm still here" 💜

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💜 Queer Fairytale Retellings

🌙 Good afternoon, my beloved bookish bats. For many of us, fairytales were our first introduction to the fantasy & romantasy genres. Here are a few queer fairytale retellings filled with magic, mischief, & mayhem that are bound to enchant your heart.

✨ The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller 🌙 The Nightmare Verse Series - LL McKinney ✨ Icarus - K. Ancrum 🌙 A Clash of Steel - CB Lee ✨ Cinderella is Dead - Kalynn Bayron 🌙 The Fox Maidens - Robin Ha ✨ Briar Girls - Rebecca Kim Wells 🌙 Beast - Brie Spangler ✨ Malice - Heather Walter

🌙 The Witch and the Vampire - Francesca Flores ✨ Gwen & Art Are Not in Love - Lex Croucher 🌙 The Magic Fix - Trung Le Nguyen ✨ Not Good for Maidens - Tori Bovalino 🌙 Relit - Various ✨ Tink and Wendy - Kelly Ann Jacobso 🌙 Hunting Monsters - S.L. Huang ✨ Burning Roses - S.L. Huang 🌙 Caged Bird Rising - Nino Delia

✨ Summer in the City of Roses - Michelle Ruiz Keil 🌙 A Lake of Feathers and Moonbeams - Dax Murray ✨ Girl, Serpent, Thorn - Melissa Bashardoust 🌙 Winterglass - Benjanun Sriduangkaew ✨ Robber Girl - S.T. Gibson 🌙 Ash - Malinda Lo ✨ Sword In The Stars - Amy Rose Capetta & Cori McCarthy 🌙 Darling - K. Ancrum ✨ Girls Made of Snow and Glass - Melissa Bashardoust

🌙 Dark And Deepest Red - Anna-Marie McLemore ✨ Ghost Wood Song - Erica Waters 🌙 His Hideous Heart - Various ✨ The Bone Spindle - Leslie Vedder 🌙 Legendborn By Tracey Deonn ✨ The Midnight Girls - Alicia Jasinska 🌙 Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao ✨ The Mercies - Kiran Millwood Hargrave 🌙 She Who Became the Sun - Shelley Parker-Chan

[thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai]

Can You Hear My Heartbeat Chapter 40

Enjoy the new chapter of my YOI novelisation! 💜💙

“I wish you’d never retire”

Summary:

Viktor woke from a tongue licking his face. “Yuuri,” he mumbled. “What kind of fetish is this?” Yuuri's absence makes Viktor grow aware of his own heart's desire.

Please note that this is the last chapter before CYHMH is going on summer break in August!

Excerpt below the cover image

It was almost midnight when Viktor finally arrived at the Hasetsu vet hospital. His flight had been delayed, he had missed the last train and paid an absurd number of Yen notes for a taxi to cross the last forty kilometres that separated him from his beloved companion.

“There you are,” Mari greeted him when he stormed into the waiting room, his suitcase clattering behind him.

“Makkachin!” Viktor panted. “How is he?”

“Still alive,” Yuuri’s sister replied with that familiar laid-back attitude, as if she was wondering why he was panicking at all. She gestured across the room to a desk that was illuminated by a small lamp. “The nurse will tell you more. I can interpret for you.”

“Thank you, Mari-san. And thanks for looking after Makkachin.”

Mari shrugged. “You're family.”            

They walked over to the reception desk. Viktor introduced himself as Makkachin’s owner and inquired about his dog’s condition in his best Japanese. Mari translated the reply:

“He got surgery because he had stopped breathing when he arrived. There was no time to remove the buns with a less radical method. For several hours, it was unclear whether he would survive, but he is slowly recovering.”

Viktor barely heard the last words. His hands gripped the desk, and he took a ragged breath. In the fifteen years that Makkachin had been in his life, the worst things had been splinters in paws and diarrhoea when Makkachin had gobbled up the cake for Viktor’s eighteenth birthday. Viktor had thought that nothing but the ailments of old age could harm his greedy dog. Yuuri had rightfully sent him back. And I almost refused to return because I didn’t want to abandon Yuuri.

[fellow-travelers-fic-recs]

Fellow Travelers Fic Recs | Monthlyish Recap (Part One)

Some of the favorite fics read by FTFR and/or newly posted in the months of May and June! This is a big one, friends... So, I'll be breaking it up into two parts. (Part Two: Here)

Mod Notes: My life's been so chaotic the past couple of months—a big move, new job, and new puppy... lots of big changes all at once, that doesn’t leave much time for reading fic, or keeping up with posting all the recs & recaps. So, apologies for the delays! While I get my bearings with the new work schedule and commute, some of the coming weeks' posts might be delayed, skipped or combined with another week's category. Please bear with me as I play a little fast and loose with the usual FTFR schedule.

Enjoy the summer! -Cy 💜💜💜

Anyway... onto the recs!

😇 🍕 This time around, we have not one, but two very special afterlife AU’s, a pizza delivery driver AU and a few other fantastic recent updates in some ongoing WIPs you might already be keeping track of. You can find the most recent chapters posted of these ongoing works here: Featured WIPs Rec List

💦 May wasn't so much of a collection as it was a trio of prompts, with “Missing Years”, “May I…” and “International Wankers Day” being on May 28. You will find them mixed throughout this month's rec list.

🧁 Of course, June 6 was our most beloved Catholic boy from Staten Island’s birthday, and there were a few fics to mark the occasion! 🎄 Mary and Tim celebrate Christmas in the 1950s, while 1980s Hawk makes good on a special wish Tim made long ago. ✍️Hawk breaks his promise not to write… While Tim breaks his vow not to give into unholy temptation. 🙏 ☀️ Kenny and Leonard forge a summertime bond before the war ... While Jackson reconnects with dad’s special friend from the cabin, out in San Francisco. 🚗

These are just a few teasers of the many great new fics posted in the past two months. It's been hard to keep up with them all! Check out the links below.

📚 Promise You WILL Write Masterpost (Updated w/May & June fics) If you're feeling inspired, please visit the collection to leave a prompt for someone to write or take one for yourself... All are welcome!Check out their page @promiseyouwillwrite for more info.

📣 May’s Features of the Month:

Fic of the Month: gold-skinned, eager baby by @lispenardst | lispenardstreet

Author of the Month: @redmyeyes | redmyeyes

May Featured Collection: Fire Island Fics 🔥🏝️ A handful of new Fire Island fics were posted recently, just in time for summer! Be sure to check out the new, updated list!

📚 More fic recs can be found at the fic register, here.

Not quite what you're looking for? Tell us what you had in mind, here! → 💌

✨ Show our amazing authors some love with your comments and kudos on the fics you enjoyed after reading! Likes are lovely, but please reblog this post to share this content with your mutuals! ✨

Happy Reading!

⛱️ It Can't Be Right [G, 2K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) Tim has had a long day, but he doesn't quite get the welcome home he is looking for.

☀️ never enough [T, 2K] by kikisfuneralservice "Promise you won't write?"

"I won't."

Yet, he did anyway.

⛱️‘Somewhere In My Memory’ [T, 3K] by bre_thomas Hawk visits Tim at his apartment in San Francisco. He has a plan to take him to New York City for Christmas. Hawk wanting to just spend time with him. He thought they would have more time, but little did Hawk know that this weekend was the last he would ever spend with Tim.

☀️ i've got my love to keep me warm [T, 6K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Mary brings Tim to a Christmas party at Hawk's mother's house.

⛱️ right or wrong i can't get along without you [NR, 3K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Jackson Fuller disappears and everyone fears the worst - until he turns up in San Francisco asking Tim for help.

☀️ Making Time [G, 1K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) Hawk runs into Tim at work. Cue some flirting and favours.

⛱️ rough trade [NR, 3K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Tim decides to plan a weekend in Rehoboth - not exactly a do-over, but close enough. It's exactly what they both needed.

☀️ Don't Try Hiding 'Cause There Isn't Any Use [G, 632] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) Kenny and Lenny share a stolen moment during tennis practice.

Part 2 of You Better Be True To Me

⛱️I'm More Than Just Sure [G, 1K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) Before the second world war begins, Kenny and Lenny enjoy a vacation at the lake.

Fluff.

Part 3 of You Better Be True To Me

☀️ creating memories that will last [G, 4K] by @startagainbuttercup | startagainbuttercup 1991, five years after Tim's death. His friends are interviewed for a documentary film about his life.

⛱️ You're an Angel, I'm a Dog [E, 2K] by spiffyyy 💠 He was never that good.

“Father, forgive me for all the times when I fall short of your standards…” He took a breath and watched the ceiling fan rotate once, then twice. “And I’m sorry for this. It was what you gave me.”

Tim picked his phone up and swallowed dryly before tapping on the notification to open Grindr.

Or, the unlikely pairing of religious trauma and a Grindr hookup.

☀️ With You 'Mongst The Flowers [G, 1K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) A hot summer day in Milan, Hawk is swimming. Tim is napping on the veranda.

Fluff. Really just fluff.

Part 5 of Bravery

⛱️ Kiss of Fire [NR, 2K] by drabbleswabbles💠 Tim pays a matchmaker to set him up on a blind date. Things do not go according to plan.

☀️ Almost Paradise [T, 8K] by @likerealpeopledo-on-ao3 | Likerealpeopledo In 1992, Hawk dies and goes...somewhere.

Equal parts apology tour, long-awaited reunions, and reluctant spiritual exploration, Hawk takes a journey through the a |fterlife and back to Tim.

⛱️ I Wanna Be a Cowboy's Sweetheart [E, 3K] by @jesterlesbian | captainquint Hawk tipped his hat politely towards Tim, the way he always did when he rode back into town and stabled his horse at the Liberty Bell, where Tim worked as a stable hand. The pay wasn’t much, but it was steady work, and the off-chance of spotting Hawkins Fuller in leather chaps astride a horse sweetened the pot considerably.

Hawk flashed Tim the look that he understood meant “Meet me around the back,” so Tim dawdled for a few moments more, trying in vain to wipe off as much dirt and muck as he could from his shirt before oh-so-casually strolling to behind the stables, where it met the treeline and provided just the right amount of cover.

☀️hold on (i'm coming) [NR, 2K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Hawk's nightly phone calls become increasingly desperate until Tim has no choice but to go to him.

⛱️ my boy [G, 783] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Tim wants to know who Hawk belongs to. The answer isn't what he expects.

☀️a fool for life [NR, 1K] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Hawk has a panic attack, and Skippy takes care of him.

⛱️ grenade [G, 546] by @promise-you-wont-write | masterwords Hawk is waiting for the results of his HIV test.

☀️ Late Night [G, 1K] by @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) Hawk is working late at home. Tim keeps him company.

⛱️ 'I Want To Be With You' [E, 3K] by @bre1995 | bre_thomas, @bluebellsinburbank | ConsumingLove (Bluebellstar) It all started at the Nomad Bar when Hawk left Tim on his own.

Based on their weekend getaway trip with a filler scene of what happened in the hotel room before dinner.

Check out the May/June Recap Part Two Here

💠Authors: If your tumblr (or other socials) isn’t linked, and you'd like it to be, let me know and I'll be happy to add it! Or, if you’re linked already and would prefer not to be, please contact me to remove it.

[sleepyfireball]

Please say you went to sleep after this 🙏

Me in the chat: Its late I’m going to bed

Also me: stays up another hour writing

[da-rulah]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💜

Ahhhh Jen thank you for thinking of me 😭 Oh god, what do I choose?! Okay I'm gonna go in order of my top 5 personal favourites based on their storylines and how fun they were to write, so here goes...

Confessional ~ Copia x F Reader [3 Parts]

As a sister of sin, it was your duty to confess at least once a month, to have your sins praised by a higher up member of the clergy. But you only ever chose Thursday nights, when you knew he was on duty. And tonight, you were working up the courage to confess your darkest sin - the dreams you had been having...

Rituale Septem ~ Terzo x F Reader [8 Parts]

Your faith is shaking; 16 years at the Ministry, and what did you have to show for it? You'd never even heard the Dark One's voice like your Siblings... But what could you do? Well, you could ask the advice of the one person chosen to guide his flock through adversity; Papa Emeritus III. And he has an idea that might work...

The Mayor's Daughter ~ Mary Goore x F Reader [5 Parts, Ongoing]

Mary knew the entire town hated him; the metalhead with the freaky make up and fake blood dripping down his face. He was the local menace, the town vandal, the cliché trouble maker. He played up to that image, enjoyed the havoc and the chaos, revelled in it. He loved pissing people off. And so, what better revenge to get on his beloved town, than to fuck around with the Mayor's daughter…

In Cold Blood ~ Terzo x F Reader [One shot]

Solitude had always appealed. Perhaps that’s why you took on this project… The thought of transforming a dilapidated old Victorian farmhouse into a sanctuary of your own, to live in peace and the romanticisms of a gothic home you fell in love with. After the structural integrity of the house is replenished, you fill your days with DIY and decorating, bringing to life a house that had been frozen in time and left to rot for decades. You could enjoy the solitude of the land already, a few miles outside of a town plagued by disappearances and a fear of the dark. But you couldn’t escape the news of more missing people, nor the strange occurrences happening around your new home. Were you imagining things? Or was there indeed a shadow haunting your sanctuary?

Come Home to Me ~ Secondo x F Reader [One shot]

No one ever thought to question why Papa Emeritus II was such a bitter man. People assumed it was a product of his upbringing, of the pressures being an Emeritus brought him. But they had no idea that years ago, he was a completely different man. A man that you so easily fell in love with... 

It was so hard to choose my favourites, everything I write is so special to me but these one just have the edge...

If you'd like to see what else I've written, I have a masterlist here! 💕

[rinadragomir]

15 Reasons to read Sword Catcher

1 - DRAMA, no one stopped Cassie so she had an opportunity to show off. Royal intrigues, criminal secrets, whispers of forbidden magic which is about to return

2 - bisexuals💙💜lgbtqia took over this book and refuse to leave, good for them

3 - perfect multilevel world-building, CC spent lots of time exploring historical materials, complicated fantasy series and it shows. Makes your brain work, which is always a plus

4 - Will/Jem vibes between Kel/Conor🥺

5 - enemies to lovers to enemies to— they're driving me INSANE

6 - POC characters, two of the main characters have brown skin, the queen has black skin, lots of characters whose appearance is probably inspired by people from the Middle East. Asian killer girl, my beloved🫶✨

7 - Political games, if you loved Game of Thrones/ House of the Dragon/ ARCANE, you'd love this one too!

8 - A high delusional society coexisting with a much poorer majority. Provocative grotesque parties/ fancy balls VS Brutally beautiful criminal city/ local dance holidays with magical roots

9 - The main girl is apparently Cordelia/Catarina's lovechild. She came here to show her dangerous dance skills and heal you🤗. Everyone is scared of her and she's scared of her weird dreams about sex & apocalypse🤔

10 - Main character being a sweet silly cinnamon roll...but like "randomly criminal whore" edition. He's either too smart or too silly & horny, no in the middle. Always kind🌻savage little marshmallow that needs to be held and protected

11 - Glittery outfits, Bridgerton X Euphoria? Marie Antoinette X Great Gatsby?

12 - Magic, necromancy 🔮🪦 Magic was common centuries ago until it became too powerful and destructive, which is yay for me, but for some reason, no-no for everyone else. The last battle between enemies/lovers and boom👁️👁️the land was destroyed, magic is gone. Which is what legends say. BUT IS IT GONE THOUGH🤨

13 - "I know we've just tried to kill each other/threatened to kill, I know this is our third meeting, but what about a kiss?👉👈" AND IT'S ABOUT AT LEAST TWO COUPLES

14 - You know that character, who's like mysterious✨ minor/third main character✨he lives in an emo mansion and feeds all stray kittens🫶and everyone who bothered him was killed brutally or disappeared under mysterious circumstances for some reason...oh these silly little coincidences☺️

15 - because I ask you🥺

[rosewaterandivy]

Through Me Prequel - i. the hanged man

Summary: Steve may be slow on the draw, but hand to god, he's sure there's something ... off about you. Or, the three times Steve was a witness and the one time he wishes he wasn't.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader, eventual Steddie x fem!reader in the series

WC: 5.2K

Warnings/Themes: cursing, criticism of religion (catholicism/xtiantiy mostly), religious themes, canon-typical violence, death, idolatry via smut, blasphemy, heretical notions, angst, occasional fluff (as a treat), Biblical & western literary canon and media references/allusions

A/N: This is the first of three prequels centering on the three main characters. If you're up on your tarot know-how, you can glean some info from the banner, etc. 👀 Special shout out to my beloved Jo (@jo-harrington) for looking this over way back when! If you haven't checked out As Above, So Below, wtf are you even doing with your life!?

Please do not interact if you aren't 18+.

Nota bene: Reblogging, commenting, and liking my work is always appreciated; reposting, however, is not. This (*) is a singal to check the footnote at the end!

Enjoy! 💜

Masterlist | Playlist | Currently Spinning:

next

"I don't care how many angels can fit on the head of a pin. It's enough to know that for some people they exist, and that they dance."

— Mary Oliver, "Angels"

Wednesday, November 9, 1983

You first meet Steve Harrington on a cold day in early November. A feast day, memorializing one basilica or another according to your latest missive— it was hard to keep track, much less whether it was one to be observed. 

A shrill ring from the phone in the motel room, this side of too loud and unfortunately, it’s enough to rouse you. 

“What?”

“We have some concerns regarding a small Midwestern town, Hawkins, Indiana.”

Blearily you sit up, “Yeah?”

“Just a drive-by should suffice.”

A sigh, “Got anything else for me?”

The voice paused, as if annoyed by your tone. “We’ll be in touch, as always.”

The sound of the dial tone did nothing to elevate your mood. While presently not on a mission, you bided your time by locating relics and artifacts for future use. Yesterday’s attempt turned out to be more burden than boon— not only was the pawnshop owner a shyster but a gun-for-hire. So, no relic to be had and you had to disarm the guy, what a waste.

Luckily, Hawkins was only four hours drive from Lebanon and sounded like a pretty easy day. 

But no one bothered to tell you that a boy and teenage girl were missing.

Driving down main street, the town seemed fairly normal. But the gooseflesh running up your arms and legs told a different story. As did the telltale scent of bleach in the air, signaling the presence of some high-voltage electrical discharge— ozone.

Flipping on your police scanner, you were able to glean the address of a witness and potential suspect. Consulting the map on the passenger seat, you turn off the main drag and head toward the outskirts of town. 

In the driveway, there are two vehicles, one black sedan and one maroon BMW. Parking in front of the house, you grab a pen and a notebook along with a badge. After checking your hair briefly in the side-view mirror, you pull on a trench coat and knot it at the waist.

Walking up the pavement, you note the police tape against the double-doors and tire treads from other vehicles. Based on the number, you’d have to guess a party of some kind was thrown the night before. 

Three quick raps on the door.

“Police, open up!”

A harried, but well-kept woman opens the door. “Yes, can I help you?” She asks politely, with a slight tremor in her voice.

“Are you Mrs. Harrington?” She nods. “Very well ma’am. I’m Detective Constantine with Hawkins P.D. May I come inside?” You display your badge for her viewing.

Another voice sounds out from the house, perturbed. “Tell her to come back with a warrant.”

The woman’s eyes blow wide, hesitant to refuse her husband. Her mouth opens to explain.

You sigh, pocketing the badge and raise your voice. “Sir, considering that a girl went missing here on your property last night, I am well within my rights to search your home without a warrant.” You smile, trying your best to remain civil. “But I am more than happy to radio the Chief from my car to relay your sentiments.”

The sound of shuffling papers and a creak from an old office chair. The door opens wider, revealing a man, Mr. Harrington, bags under his eyes and tie loose around his neck. 

“I assure you, that won’t be necessary,” He says with a tight-lipped smile and opens the door wider.

With a nod, you enter, notebook out and pen ready. Assessing the home, you take a few cursory notes. Walking from the foyer to the living room, through the dining room and out onto the patio you stop— a young man in a pool chair grabbing your attention.

He looks dazed, staring at the covered pool. Legs pulled to his chest and chin resting on the tops of his knees. Dressed in a teal sweatshirt, sweatpants and socks you wonder how he isn’t shivering from the cold. 

In an attempt to gently alert him of your presence, you softly clear your throat. His head jerks upward quickly, panicked eyes locked on you. “It’s okay,” you say, sitting on a chair to his left. “I’m just here to ask you some questions.”

He nods slowly, eyes never leaving you. A dull buzzing rattling in his chest. 

Briefly consulting your notes, you lick your lips. “It’s Steve, right?”

“Y-yeah, Steve Harrington.”

“Great!” You smile and nod. “I’m Detective Constantine. Can you tell me about the party last night?”

He nods gaze fixed on you, on the hazy glow that seems to encircle your head; he blinks and scrubs a hand down his face; the image gone. “It was just a small thing, me, Tommy Hagan, Carol Perkins, and Nancy Wheeler.”

“And the missing girl?”

“Right, Barb Holland. Nance invited her.”

“Nancy Wheeler, she’s your girlfriend?”

Another nod. 

“Did you notice anything odd about Barb or anyone else last night?”

“No, not really. She didn’t, uh, seem to want to be here.” He frowns, brows furrowing, a slight tremor runs through him, from the cold or the shock, who’s to say?

��“I think she cut her hand opening a beer, maybe?” 

Jotting down a few more notes, you nod. “But didn’t make a call or say anything about making plans to leave?”

“No.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“Nance and I went inside, Barb stayed out by the pool. Didn’t hear anything from upstairs.”

Glancing up from your notes, you pause. Steve’s warmed up to you during the brief conversation, legs crossed in front of him instead of drawn to his chest. He looks tired, looks scared.

“Your room, I presume.”

He blushes at that, nods. Takes a tense breath in, inhaling the tangy scent and taste of newly forged metal - sharp and pure at the back of his throat.

“Can you point to where you last saw Barb?”

He does so, drawing your eyes to the far lip of the pool where the Harrington lot backs into the woods. There’s a tinge of ozone in the air, albeit fading, and a tang of copper. That’s to be expected from a cut on the hand, but the electrical discharge—

“There wasn’t a storm last night? Lightning or anything like that?”

Steve shakes his head, opens his mouth to say something when the sliding door opens. 

“He wants a lawyer!” Mr. Harrington shouts, “Steve, I told you to request a lawyer before speaking with the cops.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns back toward the house, “It’s fine, dad.”

Before Mr. Harrington can get his panties in a twist, you decide to take your leave. Standing, you pocket your notebook with one hand and place the pen behind your ear with the other. Extending a hand toward Steve, you smile. 

“Thanks for your cooperation Steve.”

His hand clasps yours—warm and oddly familiar. “You’re welcome, I’m happy to help.”

Cocking your head, your eyes narrow to where your hand meets his. The feeling subsides, quelling any suspicions you may have had. 

“Mr. Harrington.” You drop Steve’s hand and nod to his father, “The precinct will be in touch should there be any further questions. Your patience and cooperation are appreciated.”

And with a turn of your heel, you walk away.

A few hours later, there’s another knock at the door.

Steve answers it, waking from a nap on the couch. Eyes slowly opening, mouth like dried cotton. 

The advil he’d swallowed earlier clearly did nothing to alleviate his headache, and the nap proved less than helpful. 

At least the buzzing had died down. The newfound shortness of breath, however, had lingered.

He pulls the door open with a huff to reveal none other than Chief Hopper and his deputy.

“Afternoon, Steve,” he greets, eyes scanning the entryway. “Your parents home?”

Steve shakes his head, rubs the sleep from his eyes. “A detective already stopped by, earlier today.”

Hopper’s lips pull tight. “Huh.” He nods to the deputy and they leave to assess the scene, “Well, s’it alright if was take a look around here?”

He sighs, growing weary. “Yeah, sure.”

“Get some rest kid,” the Chief says and turns on his heel to go.

Steve shuts the door and drags himself upstairs. Falls face-first into bed with hopes to sleep off his headache and exhaustion.

Doesn’t hear the phone ring or Nancy leave a message.

In fact, he sleeps for three days. Specters of light dancing behind the darkness of his eyelids, and wakes with dried blood in his ears.

Sunday, January 1, 1984

He recognizes the buzzing first, the reverberation lodged somewhere behind his ribs. Knows the headache is likely to follow and shoves his sunglasses on, as if that could possibly help.

Steve’s idling in the parking lot of St. Mary’s waiting for Nancy while she attends Mass. Something about a feast for Mary or the circumcision of the Christ-child, he stopped listening and looped the curls of the telephone cord around his finger.

Parents already gone after the Christmas holiday, never staying longer than necessary.

He’d hemmed and hawed at all the right parts, while scanning through the paper for showtimes. Circled Scarface— as if she’d see that, Silkwood— a maybe, if he’s being honest, and finally Terms of Endearment— god help him.

And now, it was 30 minutes to showtime, and she was running late. 

In the distance, he sees a bright flash of light. Hears the rattle and hum that follows.

Soon after, a black impala pulls into the parking lot. Correction, a smoking impala peels into the lot, sliding into a nearby parking spot expertly.

Well, that's new.

He watches as you exit the vehicle, slowly, casually, not with haste. Brushing the plumes of gray smoke aside flippantly, as if it wasn't cause for concern. A pair of sunglasses affixed to your face, frames and lenses dark resting on your nose and cheekbones. 

A tiny lift of your crimson mouth is all it takes to send the blood rushing to his head. You nod in greeting to the congregants as they exit the church, as they shake hands with the priest and visit in the narthex. 

You share a look with the priest, meaningful and urgent.

A tingling sensation as Nancy opens the door and slides into the passenger seat.

“Sorry about that.” She leans over to kiss him on the cheek, but Steve can’t stop staring at you.

Thank god for sunglasses.

“You okay?” Her voice is tinged with concern.

“Yeah, fine.” He says absently, shifting the car into gear, “Thought I was getting a headache but—”

“Another one?”

Steve sucks his teeth, he really doesn’t want to have this conversation again. “It’s not a big deal Nance.”

The tension in his neck and shoulders alleviated, a dull roar in his ears. 

Pulling out of the parking lot, they pass where you’ve parked. His sunglasses slip minutely, just enough for him to glance at you over the bridge of them.

Catching his eye, you send a redolent wink in response.

“Do you know her?”

He clears his throat, letting the pedestrians pass by. “Uh, maybe?” 

Nancy turns quickly, hazarding a glance, licks her lips while Steve clenches his jaw.

“Wow,” She breathes. “She’s—”

Steve speeds out of the parking lot like a bat outta hell. And Nancy never got to complete that thought.

Saturday, November 3, 1984

He doesn’t see you again that year, but Nancy does.

Saturday, June 29, 1985

The heat on this bus is oppressive. Offensive, even.

Even more so combined with the sweat 70-odd middle schoolers. The green ringer t-shirt with the unfortunate goldenrod yellow collar wasn’t helping things either. But, if you’d known all the particulars, you wouldn’t have taken the job.

Bagging hellspawn in the wilds of Wisconsin wasn’t worth dealing with a bunch of tweens who were hormonal and struggling to develop something called empathy.

They were mean in a scarily accurate and precise way.

“Okay twerps!” You raise a hand in the air, and count it off, “1, 2, 3, eyes on me!” 

You lean against the back of the seat, facing the kids as their conversations drop to a murmur. Clipboard in hand, you flip through the brightly colored papers before addressing them once more.

“We’ll be coming to our final destination of Hawkins, in a few moments.” You pause to wipe your brow, “Couple of things to keep in mind: take only your stuff and no one else’s. Locate your adult person, parent or guardian, and then…”

You wait as the bus hisses to halt in front of the high school. 

“Hey, sit back down Henderson, I’m not done yet.”

He grouses, crosses his arms and reluctantly sits.

“Right, so you find your adult and then check-out with me. Get it?”

“Got it!” They yell back and then it’s off to the races.

You brace yourself against the onslaught of tweens rushing toward the exit, clipboard clutched to your chest.

After the deluge, you scramble off the sticky plastic seat. “Thanks Larry!” You call to the bus driver and walk down the aisle, making sure no one left anything behind.

A radio crackles to life a few rows ahead of you.

“Dustin? Do you copy? Over.”

Rolling your eyes, you grab the hunk of plastic and thumb the call button. “Uh, roger that. Breaker one-nine. Henderson left his walkie on the bus. Over.”

Static and then.

“Shit.”

Shoving the behemoth in your back pocket, you step off of the bus, clipboard at the ready to check-out the campers.

Swamped with beleaguered kids and frazzled parents demanding medications and prescriptions, and mailing addresses and so forth, that you barley register the crackle and static from the walkie.

“Can you uh—” You wag a finger at an overly eager parent and pry the thing from your pocket. “What?”

“... Are you seriously mad right now?”

“Yes!” You sputter, rolling your eyes at the voice over the radio. “I’m kind of trying to do my job here.”

A laugh. “Funny, I thought you were a detective.”

You pale, a dull roar crashing through your ears. The voice is warm and melodic, slow like honey.

Handing off the clipboard to a junior counselor, you peer across the blacktop. And spy a figure leaning against the hood of a red car wearing black sunglasses. A smaller figure, jumping and waving at you in, of course, green and yellow.

“But then again.” The fuzz of static. “You were getting cozy with the padre, so maybe a change of pace. You a novitiate or just confessing?”

You refrain, with difficulty, from rolling your eyes.

“What’s it to you?”

Dustin whining when it clicks back on, “C’mon man.”

“Dinner.”

A scoff, “You wish.”

“Clearly.”

His response brings you pause, unusually forthright.

Lip pulled between your teeth, you leave him hanging for a minute and mentally sort through all the reasons why you shouldn’t.

Potential murderer - they never did find Barb Holland.

He apparently hangs out with Henderson—too many questions there to unpack there, but mainly: … why?

Already has a girlfriend, Nina… Nicole?

It would distract you from your work, but all work and no play makes you restless, and a little reckless. Speaking of which…

Pressing the call button down, you sigh. “Counter offer. I’ll allow you buy me a late lunch at the diner.”

You remember seeing a payphone somewhere around there and it’s public, so if it goes south you’ll have an easy out; you make plans to befriend the waitress, just in case.

The smugness radiates from his voice. “We have got to work on your negotiation skills.” 

A crackle of static. You make a big show of turning the walkie’s dial off and shoving it back into your pocket before going back to work.

Following the directions he’d sent down with Dustin when he collected his precious walkie-talkie, you pull up to a place called Enzo’s.

Scanning the parking lot, your lips pull into a scowl when you see him.

Ah. There he is. You slam your door shut. That motherfucker.

Grinning like he’s the cat that caught the canary and goddamnit, being that attractive when smug shouldn’t be allowed.

“This isn’t what I agreed to.”

“Huh.” He cocks his head, “You don’t say.”

“What’re you playing at Harrington?”

He shrugs, hands shoved in the pockets of his too-tight jeans. You make the mistake of keeping his hands in your eyeline, looking down as you do so, and audibly gulp at the sight. Those jeans sure are tight, aren't they?

“My eyes are up here.”

You frown, and he laughs. Walks you into the restaurant— holds the door, and pulls out your chair, like a real gentleman.

A waiter quickly stops by, taking drink orders and rattling off the specials. You glace around the dining room, feeling out of place amongst the off-the-shoulder tops and high heels. Crossing your Converse-clad feet on top of one another, you stow them under the table and out of sight.

At least you weren’t wearing the ‘CAMP KNOW WHERE ‘85’ t-shirt and shorts any more.

Small miracles.

“Oh,” You say before the waiter, Kevin, goes to his next table, “Is there a payphone around here? I need to make a quick call.”

“You can use the bar phone,” He points to the bar by the hostess station. “Chris will be happy to help you.”

“Thanks!”

Steve eyes you as you stand up to leave, “Better be local distance or Enzo’ll be mad.”

“Bite me.”

He sips his drink. “Only if you ask nicely.”

With a roll of your eyes you leave him at the table perusing the menu.

Rapping your knuckles on the bar top, you smile as the bar tender approaches. “What can I get you?”

“Kevin said I could make a call from here?”

“Oh, sure.”

He leaves to get the phone and slides it in front of you before assisting another customer. You punch in the 618 area code followed by the all-too familiar number and listen as it trills.

Murray, of course, answers on the final ring.

Asshole.

“Behold!” He crows, “She brings me good tidings of great joy!”

“I hate you.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, yeah. What else is new?”

You turn back to look at Steve, he, annoyingly, waves. You reply in kind, waving your fingers before flipping him off.

“Not cursed? Bloodsick? Howling at the moon?”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Still a messianic specter, sorry to report.”

“Sooooo.” You drawl, “This is your way of telling me you’ve got nothing.”

“Uh, huh.”

“And there’s no news.”

“Yep.”

You sigh, resting your forehead against the smooth lacquered wood of the bar. No jobs, no prospects, just great.

“Where are you staying? I’ll give you a ring when I get something interesting.”

You hum and stand back up. “Dunno Murray. Was kinda counting on a job to get me outta this town.”

Chris slides a drink down to you. Tequila, if you had to guess. Down the hatch it goes. You nod in thanks.

“Well, call me when you’re settled. Who knows, a slow summer might do you some good.”

“Ugh.” 

You hang up the phone with a clatter and turn back to the table with a huff.

Under the evening sunlight scattered by a canopy of leaves and panes of glass, he rests his hand on your bare shoulder, squeezing ever so slightly.

Steve shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t be as cavalier with his hospitality and his attention. Doesn’t know you from Adam and has already offered up the guest room.

He’s not normally this sloppy. But after things had gone sideways in ‘83 and then gone to shit in ‘84, Steve found himself slipping. Always looking over his shoulder, wondering when you’d blow back into town.

The detective turned nun turned camp counselor (Dustin swore you made the best s’mores) turned… well, whatever this was.

Not such a mystery anymore.

There is heat. There is the frame of his bed cracking. Carpet burns on his knees and back. Damp hairs on the nape of your neck. Bruises and bite marks and scratches all over him and strangely none on you, but not for lack of trying.

When he holds your torso against his, you grip him right back, and the pressure makes him feel like he could snap in half. It is wild and ferocious, tension sparking like a snarling animal ready to pounce.

He doesn’t call you darling or baby or sweetheart because those servile names feel so discourteous to what you actually are (and it’s only an inkling, but if he’s right—). He only pants and grunts and whispers fuck, fuck, fuck like a prayer.

“Don’t hold back on me now, Harrington.” You laugh, licking the sweat dripping down into your mouth. “You’ve always been honest. Go on, tell me what you want.”

He fists your hair from behind, pulls a growl from your throat, tangles his legs between yours as the two of you lie on your sides and goddamn it, he fucks you like he could die tonight. The sound of your ass slapping the smooth plane of his torso rings like a bell through the room. Your fist finds a handful of his hair and wrenches him away. You hold him down and crawl on top with a low chuckle.

“Tell me what you want.”

It’s futile to fight you. You are faster and stronger and beneath you, in the vastness of his own room, you could swallow him whole and he would let it happen.

“I want you.” Steve breathes, raspy and raw, grabbing your shoulders in an attempt to pull you down. You bat him away and lean back instead, propping up on your feet, knees apart, showing him the entirety of your body. Gorgeous. Marble smooth. Hard as granite, but flecked with gold and dappled light.

Steve’s breath hitches in his throat.

You look cold in the way a statue might, but in the center where you are hot and wet, he could devote himself to forever. 

“I want you now.”

With a savage grin gracing the transcendent beauty of your face, you allow him this request. Steve Harrington, merely mortal, succumbs entirely to your touch. His body melts into yours, shudders with reverence for your power and gravity, and he feels like he could burst apart inside of you.

Your breath is all he can hear. Your sweat is all he can taste.

You are ethereal.

And he will worship you to the end of his days.

Thursday, October 31, 1985

The bells chime on the door of Family Video before he can say that they’re closed and yes, they’re also sold out of Ghostbusters and Beverly Hills Cop.

Robin had already clocked out, picked up by some friends from band for a Halloween party, so it was just Steve closing up.

Too distracted by counting the till to acknowledge the buzz in his chest, the tension melting from his body. A distinct lack of headaches for a few months now too.

“Steve.”

A soft drip on the floor, like a leaky faucet when he glances up.

And you’re stumbling on the carpet like it’s moving beneath your feet. You’re trying to give Steve a reassuring smile and only getting across a grimace. 

From what he can tell, at least.

Because you are absolutely, positively covered, head to toe, in so much blood and viscera it’s no longer red but black, dripping off of you like sludge where it hadn’t already dried. The whites of your eyes and teeth are visible, and that is not an image he necessarily wanted to have of you.

Ever, really.

“I’m alright, Steve,” You attempt. Your teeth are chattering.

“Well, that’s a relief,” Steve replies, shutting the register drawer with a flick of his wrist and shoving the deposit in the safe.

“This, uh,” You glance down at your current state, frowning.

“Not yours?” He guesses, stepping out from behind the counter, paper towels in hand. “Well, I’d hate to see the other guy.”

You rasp a laugh that quickly devolves into a cough.

“Yeah,” You say once you’ve recovered, “Totally nailed him.” 

He can see as you waggle your brows, underneath the layers of blood, dirt, and grime— dried blood pulling your skin taut as it moves. Steve sucks his teeth.

“I don’t even wanna know, do I?”

Delirium is definitely sinking in because you laugh, recalling the nail gun and the thunkthunkthunk of steel driving into flesh, muscle, and bone. The screams and wails, followed by the death-rattle. His hands are on his hips as if he disapproves, worry evident in his brow. 

Being the liaison between humans and other beings (part-time, at least) means that the messenger should never have the urge to endanger a human or else it would totally compromise the position. And yet here you are, fantasizing about Harrington’s beautiful, well, everything.

Hazards of the job. Strictly speaking, the types of folk you deal with aren’t necessarily human. Technicalities, and all that.

“Okay champ,” He says, wiping at your face with a dampened towel. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then to bed.”

You can’t help the giggle that erupts from your throat. “I’m not human, therefore, I do not require sleep.”

“Sure,” Steve nods along with your yammering, paper towels coming away equal parts black and bloody. “Whatever you say.”

Steve never pegged you for a sleep-talker, or whatever the hell this was.

“JAIDA, DE BAB DE ILS, DLUGA UMADEA PAMBT STEVEN, OD TABAORI AQLO BRANSG NOTHOA STEVEN, DORPHAL TOX , ASOBAM ILS DLUGA IEHUSOZ.”*

Foreign language aside, he has no idea what is going on.

Bright shafts of white light emanate from your eyes, he can barely see your pupils anymore, in their place a gold band circling your temples adorned with rapidly blinking eyes, and he has to squint and shield himself with an arm from the illumination.

He backs away, slowly, so as not to startle you. But clearly your attention is drawn elsewhere, what with all the eyes and the—

The fuck?

The… hovering. Because you’re not seated on the bed anymore, the mattress doesn't even dip with the suggestion of weight. And there is a considerable distance between your crossed legs and the sheets.

He feels nauseous and dizzy. An ever-present buzz along his skin and thrumming from the inside out. Hears the beating of wings, the shuffling of feet. 

Steve clamps his hand over his ears, hating the damp squelch of it, just hears his blood rushing and heart beating instead. Wills his eyes closed, turning away, impossibly, from your glorious display.

Takes deep breaths and counts to 100. Again. And again. And again.

The touch of your hand on his arm is so light, that it doesn't even register. 

Steve comes to gradually, only to find you not covered with a halo of eyes and clearly abiding by the laws of gravity. 

Did he hallucinate all of that?

“Steve,” You whisper, hand rocking against his shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

Was it just a dream?

He grumbles, half-waking and bats your hand away. “‘M’up.”

“Yeah,” You laugh. “Okay, you’re up.”

A shake of your head as you sit back against the bedframe. 

Steve stretches, skin skimming against the worn sheets and feels perfectly sated. Doesn’t recall falling asleep or how he got into bed though.

Remembers seeing you at work, he was closing… Your bright eyes and teeth… And not much else. Maybe something about blood, if he concentrates.

“So.”

You’re seated a careful distance away from him on the bed. Legs fallen lazily onto themselves, hands open and resting against your knees, like one of those yogis he’s seen around town.

“You gave me quite the fright there.”

“Could say the same to you,” He counters, voice raspy with sleep. “What was—”

“Meditating.” You’re quick to answer him.

He arches a quizzical brow. “Meditating. Really?”

Bottom lip pulled and worried between your teeth. “It’s a form of introspection. Communing with your higher states of consciousness.”

“Riiiight. We’ll call it meditating. For the sake of argument.”

“What, you don’t believe me?”

He shrugs, rolls his neck and shoulders. “I never said that.” 

You squint, staring at him. Your hand comes up to grasp his jaw and slowly turn his head. Face remaining impassive, you cluck your tongue and rise from the bed.

“Stay there.”

The commands thrums through him.

Steve watches as you leave the room, heading across the hall to the guest bath. Hears the water running from the faucet, the wringing of a damp rag. Soft footfalls herald your return, plopping back on the bed and dabbing the washcloth against his jaw and ear.

A tap against his chin. “Other side please.”

You do the same to his opposite ear, humming to yourself under your breath. Thunder sounds in the distant night, a storm rolling through. 

Deeming it a job well done, you toss the cloth into the hamper. White terrycloth tinged rosy red. A cool hand turns Steve this way and that, your eyes darting across your handiwork.

“How’s your head?” You ask, voice soft.

“Fine.” Shakes his head, in proof, rattles his brain around. “No complainants.”

“Mmm.” You hum. “No migraines or auras?”

“Not for a while now.” He clucks his tongue, “But I didn’t tell you about those.”

Ah. Now he’s caught you out.

Your mouth hangs open, gaping like a fish. 

“Hey,” His hand settles over yours, warm and familiar. “It’s fine. You’re just … perceptive.”

A laugh, the rustling of wings somewhere. “Is that so?”

Steve pulls you toward him, the air punched from his lungs as your shoulder collides with his chest. You apologize profusely, rearing back and away from him. 

He tugs you back into his embrace, both arms settling around you and falling effortlessly at your hips. Feels a pleasant glow at your temples, sponges a kiss there. Catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, your image seemingly replaced with iridescent reflections of light. A crown of fire round your head. 

And is alarmingly at peace with it all.

Friday, November 1, 1985

The next morning you’d already left by the time he woke up. 

A glass of water, a crumpled scrap of paper, and business card were on the bedside table. He picked up the water, gulping it down readily and scrambled for his glasses. 

He grabbed the papers, the larger one seemingly covered in glitter, dust? Something golden getting all over his hands and sheets. Squinting because he never did get to wiping off his lenses, Steve read the business card first. Simple and to the point, nothing he didn’t already know.

The scrap of paper however, was beyond him. 

Well, shit.

He dials Robin, figures if anyone could translate, it’d be her. Then calls the number listed on the card as he waits for her arrival. 

An annoyed voice answers. “Ugh, this better be good, Harrington. I’m a busy man.”

“Yeah, who is this?”

“That’s not important.”

“What do you mean? How is that—” He sits up, cradling the phone between his shoulder and jaw.

“How did you get this number?”

“Uh, Constantine. How else?”

Whomever he’s speaking with roughly pulls the phone from their ear and mutters a litany of curses. Surprisingly few in English.

He takes a breath, waits for the conversation to resume.

“Okay, say I believe you Steve. How do you know Constantine?”

Steve arches a brow, devotes all of a few seconds to thought before saying, “Well, we’re uh, involved, I guess, and then she showed up to Hawkins dripping in blood last night.”

The next thing he hears is the sound of something smashing to the ground, quickly followed by a “Shit-cock dumbass motherfucking—” before the line drops dead.

*Highest God, of your dominion, give strong towers unto Steven, and govern your guard amidst Steven to look upon him, whom Thou givest mercy.

[rebeljyn]

mari! 💜 for the ask game, top 5 jyn quotes?

An ask about my beloved wife... Amazing... Not in any order!!

"Trust goes both ways." - Extremely funny thing to say as someone who is extremely distrustful to someone else who is also extremely distrustful, I love it

“What Chance Do We Have? The Question Is "What Choice"!" - Queen of the revolution fr I love her so much

“Orders? When You Know They’re Wrong? You Might As Well Be A Stormtrooper.” - This one applies so much to real life that it's just crazy they managed to put it on a Disney movie lol

"Every moment you waste is another step closer to the ashes of Jedha!" - The poet of a generation, this quote hits so hard

"If we can make it to the ground, we'll take the next chance. And the next. On and on until we win... or the chances are spent." - Makes me cry every time😭

Honorary Jyn quote because she gets it from Cassian: "Rebellions are built on hope."

Thank you, Mik!💖💗💓💞

Ask me my "TOP 5/TOP 10" anything!

[t4tstarvingdog]

Shuffle your favourite playlist and post the first five songs that come up. then copy/paste this ask to your favourite mutuals 💜🤍🩶🖤

hi beloved 🤍 i just chose my liked songs bc… well. all my playlists are artist specific or starvingdognatural and i can’t reveal that one yet

Lucky by Dermot Kennedy

I Think About You All The Time by Gatlin

Mary On A Cross by Ghost

Ramblings of a Lunatic by Bears in Trees

Wasteland, Baby by Hozier

[pridepages]

It's that time of week! And all I can say is: the more things change, the more they stay the same...💜  (tags under the cut)

She looked up. Fuck. Alex couldn’t see her face clearly enough in the low light to read her expression. (He could practically hear Henry’s exasperated reminder to “wear glasses. Honestly, Alex, your eyesight’s getting worse,” like he was getting old or something. He’s not even forty! Yet. Fuck.) But he did see her flag the bartender and mutter something while still looking his way.

The bartender grabbed a bottle of Maker’s Mark. He poured a drink, then brought the glass over to Alex. “For you,” he nodded down the bar. “From the lady. She says, and I quote, ‘Don’t be fucking weird.’”

“Right,” Alex muttered. But he took the damn glass. He had a feeling he was going to need it. Taking a fortifying sip, he slipped down the row to where she sat waiting for him—the hint of a smile playing at her mouth. The sight of it gave him more than liquid courage. “Mary Catherine Fox,” he drawled. “How dare you curse out your old man!” She rolled her eyes, and like turning a kaleidoscope, the colors shifted. Time blending and blurring— Beautiful, bewildering stranger became his beloved girl. Cat said, “You’re not old—” “I wasn’t fishing for that,” Alex insisted. “You were. And you’re also the one who taught me at least half the curses I know!” “The best half!” Cat smirked. “No question.”

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

I'm tagging my usual suspects @heysweetheart-writes @saturntheday and @sophie1973, but I invite anyone else to play along and show us what you're working with!

[harrysmaison]

Vi's 2022 Follow Forever!

It's 2023 for me now and I wanna say thank you to all the lovely lovely people that I befriended so far who made my dash (and in case of some, my life) so much more beautiful.

Under the cut bc there messages I want to give you 💞

Unhinged gc: @dragmedown @lovelikealandslide @cowboylarries @purplepantsniall @coffeehotcoffee @surroundedbylightt @holyshit @loubbies @greeneyesfriedrice @louishandkink You people bring so much brightness and happiness to my life. Talking with you all was like, a stress reliever, you made me feel okay with being weird and unhinged and I can't thank you enough. You all were the support system I didn't know I needed in 2022. Thank you beloveds. I hope we'll stay as weird and chaotic forever as we are now ❤️

Therapy gc: @thedevilinmybrain, @larrysballetslippers @walkinginsunflowers @thechavier @finexbright @medicinelarrie @summercherrylou @amateurd18 @kadd-kadd you all have been so supportive and helpful and understanding and comforting to me in these past couple of months. Why would I need therapy when I have you all? Everyday is healing when I talk to you guys. I can't be thankful enough for all that love and support. Hope all of your year is filled with a lot more happiness than the previous one ❤️❤️

@anxiouslarrie. Cata, my love. What can I say to you. You're my bug sis. My candle in the terrifying darkness. The elder sister I never knew I needed. You're so pretty and smart and wise and understanding. All that you've done for me till now, not even my close irls could do it. Being there for me, helping me out, keeping me sane, giving me advices. I don't know what I did to deserve you. You're so nice and sweet and just amazing. I love you loads and more. Thank you so much for being ❤️❤️

@decemberries dheera meri jaan, meri dharampartner. I can't believe I have a Tumblr mutual who I had the blessing to meet IRL. It was an extremely fun experience. And I love you even more now that I know you personally. You're funny and pretty and so so lovely, but along with that, you're so talented and wise and no I'm not going to hear another word of denial. You're someone who understands me, knows me from up close, and I'm glad that I have you for real in my life now. You're just awesome. I love you so muchhh 💖

@hlkings mari, you're one of the few people on here that I trust and open up with. You're so sweet and wise. Always there for everyone, willing to help them deal with their problems, guiding them, advising them. I can't appreciate you enough. Thank you for being there for me too. I love you a lot you know that? I do. And I admire you too. Your gifs are one of my most fav things on here. Never stop being creative and fun and of course, horny as usual, my favourite whore 💞

@moonknowshome Angie my most beloved, you adorable,.sweet soul. I wish I could hug you right now. You're like a soft plushie on a hard night. Always brightening my day with your sweet messages and cute stickers. I want to squish you and never let go, will you let me do that? Thank you so much for making my days better and tolerable. I love you tons💜

Everybody else: @otbnaga @writtenalloveryourface28 @agape-28 @ladychlo @pop-punklouis @complictedfreak @itsnotreal @persephoneflouwers @perksofbeingasunflowerblog @stood-onthecliffside @ialwaysknewyouwerepunk @bluewinnerangel @loulovehome @saturdaystakethepainaway-fitf @thosefookinvacados @nauticallyrics @tiredeyeslouis @mostardently @anapologethicc @kiwikiwiandkiwi @awesomefringey @louistomlinsun @harryslonecurl @itmustbefireproof @throughthedarklive @sarcastic-sue @thetriangletattoo @curlyhairedprince and all the others (bc of Tumblrs shitty url limit) thank you for making my Tumblr experience so blissful and fun, I never had a bad post on my dash because you lit it up with all the good content and happiness. Some of you who are talented creators, some who have such beautiful and wise thoughts, some who are just incredibly funny, some who are my really good friends, you all make being on Tumblr worth it. Thank you. Have a pleasant new year full of happiness and success and keep doing what you do. I love it 💞

[battyaboutbooksreviews]

💜 Queer Fairytale Retellings

🌙 Good afternoon, my beloved bookish bats. For many of us, fairytales were our first introduction to the fantasy & romantasy genres. Here are a few queer fairytale retellings filled with magic, mischief, & mayhem that are bound to enchant your heart.

✨ The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller 🌙 The Nightmare Verse Series - LL McKinney ✨ Icarus - K. Ancrum 🌙 A Clash of Steel - CB Lee ✨ Cinderella is Dead - Kalynn Bayron 🌙 The Fox Maidens - Robin Ha ✨ Briar Girls - Rebecca Kim Wells 🌙 Beast - Brie Spangler ✨ Malice - Heather Walter

🌙 The Witch and the Vampire - Francesca Flores ✨ Gwen & Art Are Not in Love - Lex Croucher 🌙 The Magic Fix - Trung Le Nguyen ✨ Not Good for Maidens - Tori Bovalino 🌙 Relit - Various ✨ Tink and Wendy - Kelly Ann Jacobso 🌙 Hunting Monsters - S.L. Huang ✨ Burning Roses - S.L. Huang 🌙 Caged Bird Rising - Nino Delia

✨ Summer in the City of Roses - Michelle Ruiz Keil 🌙 A Lake of Feathers and Moonbeams - Dax Murray ✨ Girl, Serpent, Thorn - Melissa Bashardoust 🌙 Winterglass - Benjanun Sriduangkaew ✨ Robber Girl - S.T. Gibson 🌙 Ash - Malinda Lo ✨ Sword In The Stars - Amy Rose Capetta & Cori McCarthy 🌙 Darling - K. Ancrum ✨ Girls Made of Snow and Glass - Melissa Bashardoust

🌙 Dark And Deepest Red - Anna-Marie McLemore ✨ Ghost Wood Song - Erica Waters 🌙 His Hideous Heart - Various ✨ The Bone Spindle - Leslie Vedder 🌙 Legendborn By Tracey Deonn ✨ The Midnight Girls - Alicia Jasinska 🌙 Iron Widow - Xiran Jay Zhao ✨ The Mercies - Kiran Millwood Hargrave 🌙 She Who Became the Sun - Shelley Parker-Chan

[foolishlovers]

weird asks: 3?💖

jk, 16, 17 and 29 (hope u found smth nice?)

sjsjsjsj u never fail to make me giggle mari 🤭

16. a netflix series that’s your favorite?

heartstopper my beloved 💜

17. an earliest obsession you remember?

i answered this already but i think schloss einstein deserves an honorary mention here sshshsjs

29. the last thing you ate?

a piece of chocolate (i did have smth nice for dinner tho dw)

send me a question 💜

[carelessflower]

Can you suggest me an exciting malec fic? please💜

anon i don't know specifically what type you would prefer so I will be very broad with my range, excuse me for a bit. also im not very good with words so dont expect much from the summary i give you, you should click on them yourself to find out:D

Awakening

alec gaining magic!!! i love the worldbuilding (if you can say that in this fic). and it's part of a series!!! (i adore the other works in this series as well)

Dress For Success

alec surprises magnus with his halloween costume, it just very fun and cute and fluffy and i turn to this author a lot when i want some malec comfort

Love Really Hurts Without You by @onetimetwotimesthreetimess

it's like being slammed into the wall repeatedly with a few ice cream breaks. definitely recommend.

Hath No Fury

personally i think everyone should read this fic it has magnus going off on some demon cause they hurt alec,,,it everything i need in life

Reconstruction

my all-time favorite show-based fic, the way they write alec emotions and headspace in this fic, simply divine

On The Sands Of Edom

alec asking magnus to pretend to love him one last time as alec lay there dying, instantly classic

Once Upon a Time in the Clouds

its sky high malec au, of course it gonna end up on this list are you kidding me

Detest, Demise, Desire by @dustandducks

vampire x vampire hunter excellence

Cinched

alec in a corset, need i say more

the strength of your restraint

no elaboration i just adore this fic

don't mess with the high warlock of brooklyn

assassination attempt fic, honestly some of the best ive read

Cold (my Beloved)

snow white!malec with a few twists! abandoning my gatekeep business to share this to you all better appreciate this author more their works are so so great

Mary On A Cross

i just discover this fic last night and omg i need to eat it chew it swallow it

Expectations vs. Reality by @magnus-the-maqnificent

i would call this fic idiots to lovers but the more accurate depiction would be idiots and lovers

[morning-star-joy]

love from mari! 💗💜 we have some new additions here

1. pixel joel (my beloved)

2. now, i don't know much about rdr2, but i added arthur here just for you 💜🫶🏽

MARIIIIIII AJFDKLSF I LOVE YOUUUU OH MY GODDDD pixel Joel and Arthur MY BELOVEDS!! LOVES OF MY LIFE!!!!!!! Ty for starting my day off right omg 💜💜💜