#something that will age well/i wont lose interest in

[heavensmortuary]

i think im gonna ask my parents for help paying for a tattoo as my birthday present maybe, just gotta decide on what i want

[darlinguistics]

'its just IMPOSSIBLE to not be addicted to your phone nowadays its UNREALISTIC-'

heres some advice to being less chronically online. for gen z (and younger??) who dont even know how to start thinking about it and have only heard shitty advice from older adults who just genuinely do not get it, from a fellow gen z and my experiences so far.

*these are personal and may not all 100% resonate but its still good prompting to start thinking about things! PLEASE feel free to add your own stories/advice in the notes! support your fellow humans, dont gatekeep what youve learned, lets have these conversations! and no negativity/pessimism please <3

first thing is to make it a less scary thought, a more concrete idea and not a hypothetical. it doesnt have to be all-or-nothing, cold turkey, a huge announcement and a fundamental shift in your personality. the internet will be in your life for the rest of your life, this is an ongoing relationship you are trying to make healthier thats all! and it takes one step at a time and some self-compassion, but a true effort nonetheless. 'dont you think thats a bit too serious-' if youre my age you quite literally grew up and developed online, it is literally part of your psyche the way your childhood is, it IS serious, you deserve to treat it seriously.

dont save your login info/dont stay logged in for social media accounts, having to manually log in when you want to go on like youre on some elementary school chrome book is a really healthy and clear boundary to have between being logged off and logged on.

-> bigger challenge - uninstall it on your phone in general, only log on on your laptop/pc if applicable for you!

if youre motivated to, try to work on your posture too. i only say that because most of our bad posture is at least partially related to being on our phones a lot, and when i started wanting to fix my posture, completely separately and unrelated from trying to break my phone addiction, it made it easier to lose interest in my phone since i didnt want to ruin my progress with my posture. it made me start to have a mindset like 'well if you cant do this on your phone with good posture then dont do it' and 'if youre on your phone so long your posture starts to cave in, youve probably spent too long on your phone anyway'

listen to music more. its easier for me to kinda write off my phone and do other things if i just open music or a podcast or long youtube video on it. i know we all love long video essays, but i recommend music more specifically for me at least because im less inclined to pause music or scroll while listening to it for some reason? whereas using a show or video or podcast for white noise, im way more likely to also be scrolling on my phone and that is my activity lol. music for some reason i dont want to interrupt and instead of being on my phone i can clean or do something productive on my computer etc

this one is sooo hard but try to fall asleep with some distance between you and your phone, even just a couple feet. mine stays on the desk next to my bed which isnt that far but its better than on bed like it used to be. when you wake up you probably wont feel like reaching for it right away if its far and even better if you have to get up for it because then at least you stand and move your body first thing instead of looking at your phone first thing. and try to get more and more of your morning routine done before touching your phone over time.

-> for me, i started by just trying to at least wake up a bit in bed before touching it, then stand up before touching it, then stand and stretch, then going to the bathroom first, making coffee first, feeding the cat first, etc. its surprisingly helpful to have a specific chore/task in mind that is The requirement so that everytime you do it you get a lil dopamine rush for unlocking your phone from yourself lmao. when the weather was nice i used to make my Requirement being outside first before going on it and i LOVED that. esp as it got easier and i started doing more and more before going on it and finally walking outside with coffee and my phone felt like such a pleasant little reward.

find a hobby that uses your hands. example: i really need to get back into knitting because when i did it regularly so much time that wouldve been on my phone was spent knitting with music/podcasts/shows/(even online lectures! when i felt productive lol) playing. its the same amount of physical relaxing - barely moving lol - but uses a longer attention span and a much better dopamine hit than scrolling, i literally MADE things.

-> you might be thinking, 'but mindless knitting isnt better than mindless scrolling is it?' but that mindless feeling on your phone is just that, mindless. the mindless feeling you get when doing something like knitting is actually closer to a flow state, which is actually incredibly good for you, like a fulfilling nutritious meal as opposed to 'empty calories' or whatever

get a widget for your homescreen that shows your screen time. i have one and of course it doesnt always stop me but seeing that time go up all day the more i use it and the pride of keeping it low is really helpful

practice grounding. in general.

spend more time on anonymous activities and have more privacy and less attachment with your 'persona' - what i mean by that is, i consider things like scrolling through tumblr (for me personally!) to be relatively harmless because i dont try to like,, brand myself here. if youre a tumblr regular you know the jokes - 0 follows, 0 notes, screaming to the void, moots you dont talk to, blorbo pfp and urls, fake names everywhere, and we're having fun! basically targeting the 'everyone is famous now' thing with this one - embrace being a nobody with no personal stakes here

-> personally ive never kept up with having social media accounts that are actually just, me irl - like a facebook or main instagram, like a locals account yknow? but i think it goes for that too - stop spending so much time trying to further personalize your online presence in the hopes of it representing you perfectly - because it never will, and it shouldnt, and you shouldnt aspire for that. your social media presence is lighthearted and incredibly surface-level, treat it like that! thats not me bashing social media either, having that mindset will make it more enjoyable bc youll be using it as it should be used!

do following/followers or camera roll/files or app purges. this is also a soft launch type of way to practice easing into a better mindset. aside from just literally getting rid of junk, the process of trying to judge whether or not you need something is good practice in mindfulness! even if you dont delete everything you feel like you maybe should, thats fine, youll do other purges in the future too. eventually youll get better at parting with things and realizing when things that feel good in a moment are actually bad for you. and it forces you to regularly check in on your more long-lasting parasocial relationships online and how theyre serving you or not

speaking of parasocial - for actual friends, if theyre irl, think about how much you interact with them online vs in person and why you think that is and how it affects you. maybe youll wanna see them more irl if possible (i promise its better for your friendship), maybe youll realize you dont need to keep tabs on them anymore (old high school acquaintances lookin at you). for celebrities and fandom things - try to think about the bare minimum content from them you could do with. you dont have to unstan all your faves and stop enjoying things - but do you need their notifications on? do you need to have a stan account? do you need them on all the platforms? do you need to have all that saved content of them? are there aspects of this that you love that could be found elsewhere?

if youre of the genre of online where you just cant help yourself from getting involved in big discussions or discourse and arguments - i recommend journaling when you get upset by something online, articulating your feelings without the idea of someone ever reading it and without the goal of 'winning' or being the most correct and logical or even the most sympathetic and morally good. take away every audience aspect of it. what is this really about for you, and why would strangers online deserve to hear your personal well-thought out opinions? why would your thoughts deserve to be simplified and misconstrued and underappreciated the way they would be in this discussion? is there even an outcome to this where you feel truly satisfied? are their people who are more worthy of hearing your thoughts who arent part of this audience? is this a conversation that is best held online where so much communicative nuance is inevitably sacrificed?

in the end these are all just practices in remembering how in control you are. and that goes for if any of these are scary or too difficult sounding too! these all become less scary if you remember that as soon as anything becomes too uncomfortable or painful, you have all the power to stop doing it, make a change, and try again later. so much of advice for quitting bad habits can be intimidating because the pressure and the shame that would come from failing scares you out of the possible benefits of trying - just go ahead and kill that shame from the jump. of course youre going to fail! you are going to have setbacks! thats part of it! you have agency in this, always. the internet is not inherently or completely evil nor good. build trust in yourself to make the calls on when it is serving you and when it isnt on a case-by-case basis, and then give yourself permission to learn through trial and error.

and remember you are worth all of this effort. i believe in us <3

[svttingz]

Leave her alone.

pairing: Bernard x fem reader

summary: just toy Santa treating you bad

warnings: none

A/N: MY LAST STORY DELETED ( also writing part 2 of this ) i also dont own this gif

-

-

last Christmas, your life changed forever. 

your dad is Santa Claus.

he made Santa fall off a roof, on accident of course. he put on the coat and delivered the rest of the presents to the children.

there was a certain little elf hat next to the Santa outfit that you tried on. and lets just say. never in your life has something felt so right. it was the same when you met Bernard. the cute head elf that had stolen your heart. 

he trained you everyday for the last year so you could become an elf. when one of those lessons led to you going to kiss him on the cheek then him turning his head on accident causing you to kiss him on the lips. you both immediately pulled away, but then you both leaned in again and kissed once again. thats when u guys started seeing each other.

he would visit you everyday after that till you moved to the North Pole to fully commit to being an elf, thats also when your age stopped.

fast forward a year later officially 3 days till Christmas. and there is a new clause. your dad has till Christmas eve to find a wife or you cant be an elf anymore and he wont be Santa anymore.

so you and Bernard have been spending a lot more time with each other since ‘the desantafication process has began’ according to Curtis and so has the delfication. your ears are going back to normal by the day.

so while your dad went out to find a wife, you, Bernard, and Curtis were stuck to deal with toy Santa. 

oh did i mention how they made a toy Santa to impersonate Santa while hes gone??? 

yeah you heard me

“you know this book is very interesting reading, theres a lot of rules right here at the North Pole they're not following” toy Santa says looking at the book

“Thats what ive been saying all along, every since mr elf number one here got all lovey dovey with miss Y/N, things have gotten a little to sloppy” Curtis says

“excuse me?” you and Bernard say at the same time

“yes and sloppiness means mistakes, and mistakes arent a good thing! i think i might need to make some changes around here” Toy Santa says

“what’d you have in mind boss?” Curtis asks

“well let me show you” Toy Santa says as they began to walk away, 

“i really hope my dad can find a wife, i dont want to leave here” you say looking at Bernard as you guys were walking behind toy Santa and Curtis.

“me too, i cant lose you” Bernard says while grabbing your hand

“whoa whoa whoa, what is this” Toy Santa says referring to me and Bernard holding hands. “it clearly says here in the handbook, “elves should not have any romantic relationship with humans” 

“oh no sir, im an elf” you say with a smile

he glares down at me and bends down to my height, “Y/N was it? you young lady are no elf, all you are is a sad, strange little HUMAN girl who wants to be an elf but will never be one.” he says

“hey. Leave her alone. dont talk to her like that.” Bernard says while getting in front of me 

“and you Mr elf number one, need to set an example for these elves that arent following these rules” Toy Santa says turning to Bernard then walking off.

“im sorry about him Y/N that was a really horrible thing he said” Bernard says turning around and rubbing my arms.

all you could think about after Toy Santa’s words were, “hes right you know, technically right now im not an elf. im just a sad strange little human girl.” you say with a sad face

“no hes wrong.” Bernard says, “i dont care what he says, i love you as an elf or no elf. you'll always be my snowbell” he says with a smile.

you smile, “thank you Bernard, i love you too” you say as he leans down to capture your lips with his. you wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer. when u parted he placed his forehead on yours

“Get a room, lovebirds” Curtis says with a disgusted look on his face

you and Bernard both let out a laugh.

poor Curtis.

-

[thekingofwinterblog]

Thoughts on Brandon Sanderson and people who accuse him of writting "slop"?

that they are not entierly wrong.

Sanderson is a writer who writes both great, and bad things, but above everything else, he might be the most "Technical" writer alive.

He is capable of writing characters such as Wit, Kaladin, Raboniel... But he is also capable of writing characters such as Shalan, who in book 1 was boring beyond belief, book 2 was great but had one of the most headbanging moments of the franchise to let her win an argument, book 3 made tons of mistakes but only got called out on the ones she made because of good intentions(and not the ones like almost blowing an entire military operation due to a bad and spiteful joke), and book 4 was having a total mental breakdown that was not really earned from a story perspective.

The point im leading up to here, is that Shallan is technically, looking at her from exclusively a mechanical, story beat perspective, a perfectly functioning character... But other than book 2, i REALLY dont care about her storyline.

And that sums up Sanderson's bad qualities as a writer in a nutshell.

Brandon always understands how something works, how to mechanically set up a story, and then later pay it off, and that along with a pretty good writing capacity is usually enough to carry his stories to amazing heights... But when he fails to do that, when a story needed a bit more omph, than his decent but not brilliant writing was capable of mustering, it REALLY shows.

Shallan is the best overall example from the Stormlight archives, but it's not the only example, as i could list tons of others, but i would very much agree that when Sanderson doesnt manage to stick the landing on something, Slop is the PERFECT analogy for how to describe it.

Another example is mysteries.

Sanderson is not good as writing mysteries.

He LIKES mysteries, and it's clear he understands the technical spects of writing them, but he is not martin, where you can go back to book 1 and see how already at this early stage he is setting Bran up as the magical god-king of Westeros, and Dany as a woman with severe mental problems that probably should not be anywhere near a crown.

Sanderson's mysteries often boils down to us being told something new and interesting that recontextualises something old, rather than wondering about a question, then getting foreshadowing, and then a payoff.

Shallan is again a perfect example.

book 1. reveals at the end she killed a certain person. Came out of nowhere.

book 2. ending reveals how she did it, but also that she killed someone else.

book 3. she does a good thing, but this thing horribly backfires, but we get no hint of it doing so before the very ending of that storyline when there were plenty of space to hint at the twist before the reveals comes.

book 4. reveals she Killed ANOTHER person in her backstory.

None of these events are illogical... but NONE of them are handled with the kind of care to make the spectacular twists where you can go back and see how her backstory twists flows into another the way Martin might have.

Brandon's mysteries and reveals often work... but they are rarely outstanding. and when they are bad... They feel like Slop you gulp down to get to the much tastier desert(The character bits where he actually shines).

He has other problems as a writer as well, such as clear lack of confidence in many things(Shallan book 1 wouldnt be half as bad if he didnt constantly have characters tell us how witty she is, and her argument with Kalading during the Chasm period needs him to lose, so the man loses 20 IQ points or more to let her dominate him in debate), an ultimate lack of resolve of keeping Stormlight a medieval dark fantasy story with heroic characters(The same kind of dynamic that Dragon Age Origins, best RPG ever made had) and instead is slowly losing a lot of elements that kept it dark, while making it feel a lot more contemporary, but as these dont relate to the slop argument, i wont get too into those here.

[12v31]

HELLO you can call me ryuk (s/h),i bring to you my little taerin, 24 years old bartender @ daemon with super strength. you'll find her bio (a bit long sry) and some plot ideas under the cut. (ill eventually have more detailled pages for her some time soon...) hit the like button if you're interested in plotting and i'll come to you! or you can save me from a sh*d*wb*n and send one first... :')

about taerin

an only child, taerin was born into a well off family, with one parent a doctor and the other a lawyer working for the aeternals (her father's words, not hers). financially, all was good they never struggled, but when it came to parenting that was well… things were more challenging. see the duracell bunny? that was her, big ball of energy unable to stay still for more than five minutes, her attention always shifting from one thing to another.

from an early age, her parents enrolled her in every sport and extracurricular activity they could find, realizing that keeping her occupied was the only way to channel her hyperactivity (aka have some peace). ballet, soccer, gymnastics, swimming—taerin tried her hand at everything, but none really held her interest for more than a month or two. she'd learn the basics and get bored… that was until she tried kickboxing.

it was love at first punch ig? she was only 9 and entering the ring was the only thing that had her eyes light up. a month, two months, six, a year.. by the age of 12, while her friends were worrying about homework, taerin had already mapped out her future— she wanted to become a professional boxer, and nothing else mattered. surprisingly, her parents found themselves supporting her dream, their girl had finally found something she enjoyed! but that didn’t stop them from worrying about yet another thing, her powers.

for both her parents whose powers had manifested at an early age, taerin's were taking their sweet time, to the point where they began to lose hope. meanwhile, taerin couldnt care less tbh powers or not, she already knew how her life was gonna unfold

that was until they manifested, two years later during a fight. she still remembers it vividly, the look on her opponent’s face as they flew across the ring, breaking the ropes and crashing into the wall behind.

it wasn’t a competition, just a pre-selection match, but after that incident, taerin was ruled out of any future competition. her enhanced strength was deemed too much of an advantage, making it unfair to the others which made sense but yeah.. her dream of going pro had been shattered.

after that? well..it was despresso ahah.. she had no other choice but to return to her studies, forcing herself to endure a few more years. she struggled but ultimately ended up graduating high school. then she was OUT! tho obv this time her parents did not support that decision

their relationship deteriorated from that moment. her parents threatened to cut her off if she didn't stick to her studies, but stubborn as ever, she refused to listen and instead, decided to leave home. from working at pc bangs and restaurants to hotels and bars, she took on job after job to provide for herself.

personality

ngl shes a bit of a tsun she does want to build friendships shes just not good at it. she still struggles to control her power so she lowkey avoids people, not wanting to accidentally hurt them the way she did before. shes v serious about her work tho, v professional dont try to mess w her job. taerin's a tough one to crack but once u do, u wont regret it.

some v basic likes n dislikes 👍 she enjoys video games, esp combat ones, working out, spicy food, beer, strawberry milk, vanilla ice cream 👎 hot weather, sparkling water, needles, loud chewing

plots

roommates yall cant hide she has 4 of them!! neighbours who complain about the noise sry not her fault if she accidentally slams doors and breaks furniture.. ppl she went to highschool w, friends she made at the club either before or after her powers manifested, some emotional support wouldve been nice lol, regulars at the bar, people she's met at her past jobs, flings, one or two past relationships? i have an idea for a minor ability that could manifest in the near future (kinda like small quakes n stuff) so if youd like ur muse to be involved lmk! frieenddsss enemies im up for anything tbh lets brainstorm!!

[wetalkedaboutthisshinji]

Ramblings about Chris Elman and wtf his identity even is

I'm talking all endgame spoilers for Ward so PLEASE dont read if you haven´t finished it.

(SPOILERS FOR WARD)

Eventually I'll make an actual essay about Ward because there a lot of stuff. Ward is, IMO, not bad but is such a confusing absolute chaos of good and interesting ideas that kinda get lost in the haze of insanity. Like I do think Ward is good but it's the least good of all of Wildbow's stuff that I've read and I sincerely feel if he actually editted it it would be as good or better than Worm but he wont so whatev. I guess I'll just scream to the void.

Also, OOOOOOFFF because Chris is actually a very complex character! And this complexities IMO are NOT well examined in the story proper! My hot take is simply that Wildbow just kinda....didn't fully explain or problematize or, like, made a plot of this, despite it clearly being both set up for it as well as quite honestly necessary to understand one of the main characters.

What is even Chris's mental age?

In a way Chris is a clone with all the memories of a man somewhere between 20-40 years old. He was made specifically to relive the traumatic events of his creator's life so that he would trigger in the exact same way and have the same powers, an utterly insane idea that hadnt even been shown to be possible. He retains traumas and anger from this life, despite it not being technically his own, and in his own internal narrative often sees himself as Lab Rat, the minor villain that turns out was actually one of the most powerful villains in this universe. Several people treat Chris not as his own person but as Lab Rat cheating death, coming back.

Note 1: the reveal that Lab Rat is Chris's creators is THE WORST twist Wildbow ever did. It comes out of NOWHERE, it's about a character that had NO relevance since Worm ending and no presence in Ward proper and, while not IMPOSSIBLE in this universe it takes so many unlikely stuff and leaps of logic that it just...wow. They really do it like they expect the audience to flip their shit but I had to wiki walk a lot to even get what was going on. And when I did my answer was not "Holy shit! This is crazy" but a very confused "Is that how triggers even work?"

I believe the issue was that commentors on the webpage where so filled with complex headcanons that when Wildbow decided to follow on one of them everybody that was there week by week was so busy losing their minds to even contemplate the fact that it was all kinda from left field.

Note 2: My personal headcanon is that Chris and Lab Rat have actually slightly different abilities as Chris seems more focused on serums that temporarily grant powers instead of just making monsters but that might be just how they are different in their usage of their powers --another point for "Chris is not Lab Rat" bag imo. Also he's clearly a Trump? Like, he can clearly mix powers? Isn't that OP? Why doesn't anyone react to this random suddenly becoming Eidolon Lite?

Going back to the main topic, the other thing about Chris is that in another wqay he began existing sometime around Gold Morning so he's also 2 years? He is the thingy that Taylor Hebbert helped Lab Rat toss over the ocean. The monster maker's last creation, made out of a dare, to show how great this own power really was, made to do "something big". Created out of hubris, whim and irresponsability.

Chris began existing as a literal monster without a human body, possible non-sentient, driven by "directives" that he biologically has to follow. So in a way he is kinda close to Nilbog's creations, as a byproduct of parahumans irresponsably going all Frankenstein. The way he constantly associates himself with monsters and non-humans is...kinda a point from him? And this clearly informed his actions on the Titanomaquia but it was A Bit Rushed (take a drink when you say this regarding a secondary character on Ward ending).

And like, he is also clearly dominated by the "Directives" his creator left and those drive him but he kinda rationalizes them as things that he truly wants and becomes emotionally invested in them but at the same time you could argue he IS a victim of his own creation....but nobody finds out he even has directives he HAS to follow. Not to mention the insanity of sometimes seeing yourself as a person but at the same time having orders of that same person installed since birth in your head in a way that you cannot fight.

And, like, he himself seems to be incapable of making up his mind whether or not he is his creator? Like he sometimes seems to truly believe himself to be this older man, despite the fact that he's physically another body and also began existing as a completely different being and demostrably has different attitudes and has to follow the order of the original Lab Rat. But he still has his memories, his hatred for people, his grudge against his sister. So he does have more maturity than a 12-year old. But he IS immature because he's also 2 years old. Victoria essentially forgives everything he pulls because she essentially internalizes him as even more of a child than Kenzie and, well, not wrong? His actions really do scream of a child going "You can hit me :P" at times with Team Breakthrough, which arguably are the first and only people that have treated him as his own person, something he himself is not sure he is or isn't. So he lashes out at them and constantly annoys them but it's always this extremely self-destructive thing? It's a very compelling dynamic, a friend turned enemy that kinda just wants to attention but doesn't want to admit it. He wants to be validated as an evil monster but this people have seen both sides of him and know he is closer to an annoying 12 year old that he himself will ever be to the Endbringers.

Jessica outright believes him to be his own being and sincere about heroics and when she asks him what he truly is Chris just shrugs? Because he himself doesnt know and his only real way to treat humans is lying to them so he has never been able to even be aware of it all?

And like, Jessica KNEW. And you could argue that it's a plot hole that she allowed Chris into the team because she fell for his lie and openly wasn't worried about him turning evil. But I would very much indeed like to understand what would it mean for Chris, who began life as a literal monsters during a war and was forced into memories that werent his to be trusted by another person. And what Jessica saw in him to make her believe he could be a hero.

Dont worry tho, Jessica disappears at the end of Ward and this is not examined in any way. Take a drink!

IMO the whole Chris arc is for me one of the parts where Wildbow really dropped the ball because IT IS important and IT IS interesting and there is so much you can do with it but he just kinda stays in the background most of the time.

[cherishmangoes]

Life Taken for Granted

Guess what's making me write this stuff? A movie and I'll obviously mention its name later below. So what makes you think that you'll be alive tomorrow? You're 18? 10? 25? 50? name it, the youngest possible or even an age that seems to be where death doesn't knock its doors often, well lemme tell you if a guy at age 26 could have a heart attack, or a person who is 9 years old could go in a completely unresponsive state or god knows you're in a car accident and next time you wake up you have an episode of memory loss for whatever period of time, well you don't know what life could give you. It's funny how so many of us born so healthy yet don't question god or a doctor or whatever entity, why? Yet when an obstacle strikes us really bad of any kind, sometimes continuously, we always wonder "What did I do to deserve this?" or "Why does it always happen to me?". We so many times forget to appreciate the simplest things in our life; our legs, they're able to walk mountains; our hands, so we could type or draw; our eyes see the most beautiful things like the people closest to us or the beauty of the world; or every little thing that people may do for us that goes unnoticed like the good mornings or the good nights, the breakfast that your parents have prepared for you or even the fact how clumsy/overprotective but cute your sibling can be or the time with your pet or the support of your friend even at the smallest times, its all really golden, and trust me there is so much more compared to what I have written, but well I bet you already know by now. My point for all of this? What guarantee you got that the person sitting across your dining table would be alive tomorrow? That could be anyone really. We have no idea about it yet we agonize about our life every minute of our precious time of what we're gonna do in the future. 10 years, 5 years down the lane where do you see yourself? Hell we don't even know what could happen the very next second. Look I get it we do set goals and have our dreams, ambitions and passion but

1. Don't get so lost in for the future that you forget to appreciate the now

2. If you don't know what you wanna do in life, or what you're gonna become, stop thinking and stressing about it so much, like stop and think just why are you so anxious about it? (Well this is coming from a person who has faced this and is probably facing it and trust me thinking about it wont do shit) well of course knowing your interests could help and one shouldn't be clueless about themselves or unaware of what's going around them but dude stop thinking and start trying out stuff, it could be jobs, programs, anything. Don't be so lost in thinking that you lose an amazing opportunity.

3. Start being grateful for life, I'm not saying that if you've faced something horrible or you are facing something like that right now, don't feel sad about it ,NO, that's wrong feel it, get help ,cry because you're only human but don't ever get so stuck in the void of darkness that all you do every time and all the time is sulk, whine, cry, become ungrateful and don't move past it. Instead of keeping it in your mind and not letting it go or trying to forget about it, keep it there but rather than crumbling it like a piece of paper and letting it occupy so much space in your mind, fold it neatly and keep it aside. Life is learning how to do that and life is so much more than just pain. So stop wasting your time on things that don't matter and start spending it with people and things that actually do. As it was once there in "In Time" the movie, if time was our currency rather than money, maybe we would know why to value it more than anything.

The movie that I teared up from was "The Awakenings" available on Netflix, revolves around mainly on a disorder which leads to a person becoming unresponsive. How people lose 10, 20, 30 years of life and come back to only know the whole world has changed, that they have aged. How sometimes people would like to be alive and normal, but what could be this normal? Just going on a walk or reading a book without any disturbances, enjoying such times. And so it leaves us with a lesson, a message that maybe its us who needs to be awakened to try and live life to its fullest extent, while we can by just talking, empathy, enjoying and gratitude. I hope this helped you or was maybe a useful piece of information. This is meant to be a reminder to people.

Thankyou!

(My apologies for any grammatical errors or just errors in general, it's my first time writing a blog and don't forget to watch the movies I have mentioned above, both are totally worth your time and available on Netflix)

[the-jillie-thoughts]

If We Cross the Bridge.

"Dear Love, By the time you read this I will be gone. Where? I wont say. And I know you must be wondering with a frown on your face that why am I writing this letter all of a sudden. Backdated, aint it? Well I know you must be tired of all the works and troubled for me, for us. You would probably ignore my calls or texts for the time being to live away from the reality and that's okay. I would have done the same if I was in your place. So I chose this age-old practice of writing letters. Just read this when you feel free. I know we both were imperfect, but perfect for each other. However, not all love stories have a happy ending and unfortunately our's is one of them. But I cannot blame you and I guess it's the same the other way round. We both knew something got missing in us - the sparks? the ecstasy? the excitement? the attraction? the desire? Or maybe the endless LOVE? Not that we weren't trying but each trial made us lose hope on US. We faught a lot more than usual. We were exhausted. We knew it was the time for us to end this love before things turn toxic. Then something was stopping us. What was it? Our bond? The memories that we made? The happiness? The affections? Guilt? LOVE? We didn't know. We just knew we need to take break from each other; to understand what we wanted, to understand ourselves, to breathe.

We were so busy sorting US out that we really forgot how this world looks like..

So we must end this...

The bond? The affection? The stress? The LOVE?  Again, I don't know. But you know this is healthy for us, right? We need to check ourselves. We need to know if our love interests have changed overtime or not. We need to be mature enough to handle commitments. If we ever cross paths again , I hope we see a better version of ourselves.

But I will remember this love because those feelings were real. Our memories were precious. The love was oh-so pure and innocent.

So I can't tell if this is a GOODBYE  for now or forever. I wish we are together as a lovely couple in parallel universe. But now I bid my farewell to you. Take care of yourself. Don't do drunk driving. My phone number will be the same. Just because we aren't a couple anymore, doesn't change the fact that I will not care, morover when its you. Anyway, last but not the least, always remember me because I will never forget about US.

From

A little human you used to know."

.

.

. Few droplets of tears were falling on the piece of paper.

Tears? Oh yes. Of course they were tears. His eyes formed a puddle of tears and gradually he let them fall..

Why was he crying? He didn't know.

He must have felt like a burden was lifted from his back. He was free. He had plenty amount of time for himself. He should be happy with HER decision, shouldn't he?

But no. One could easily see how devastated he was by the way he was crying out loud; crumpling the paper without noticing as if it was his way of showing how much in despair he was.

Why? He didn't know.

For the guilt that he wasn't good enough? Definitely a no because both of them tried their best. May be he could have done more? He didn't know.

For the bond?

For lust?

For the lost love?

For her? He smile, her resting bitch face when she was outside, her weak stomach with an elephant like appetite, her silliness, her clumsiness, her mother like nature, her protective bff behaviors, her possessiveness, her beautiful body which she was really insecure of, her deep brown eyes with the deepest eyelashes he had ever seen.....

Or....

Or For the affection they hold for each other?

For their memories. Where they first met; when he started feeling butterflies for her whenever she was around her; when he confessed and came to know she felt the same for him; Their little but cute dates.. their hugs, kisses, cuddles; when they first made love; when they started planning about their marriage, honeymoon even kids and their names, all while cuddling; When both were goofing around; when they were thrown out of the museums, restaurants or shopping malls because they acted like nothing but some annoying and mischievous kids or some horny teenagers who made out just anywhere and everywhere; the first time they introduced each other to their families; when....

Oh god! He just couldn't count the amount of memories both good and bad they made together for all these years.

He really had many reasons to cry and the first and foremost reason was HER.

Was this love? Or the memories that were haunting him right now? He was confused.

With this inner turmoil and a teary pair of eyes he got up and walked to his room. With the letter written by her.

He threw himself on the bed, lied there closing his eyes with his left hand resting on his forehead.

He was feeling restless. He opened his eyes and read the letter again and again.

After sometime he got up and thought, was this really what he wanted? He didn't know.

For all he knew, she was right. They both needed time.. He just couldn't make a wrong decision again by confusing love with habit. Of course he got habituated with her.

After all they were partners. Even now he knew she was just one call away if he just made an excuse of falling down off stairs. And same applied for him too.

So he just couldn't take this risk. He couldn't let his emotional crisis lead him to something he might regret.

He needed to know that whether he was still in love with her or the feelings they shared.

Love is not materialistic. One can give hundred percent of himself on materialistic things and get results. Why? Because it's just a challenge between you and your potential.

But Love? Even if you give your hundred percent on love, the probability of your other half to give their hundred percent is uncertain. A little mistake, and it will ruin the whole relationship.

He looked at the empty side of his bed where she used to sleep.  He smiled a little and read the letter again. A single tear left from his eye but he wiped it. He took a deep breath,

"Love, I hope we cross the bridge if our feelings ever get sorted out. If not, I promise I'll always remember you".

END

[espionn]

havent kept up with new warriors books for like years so idk why i suddenly care but after hearing the blurb and watching akira's video on the new warriors arc (changing skies) i have a few thoughts

-please please please make moonpaw either a) just a warrior who happens to have visions or b) an antagonistic medicine cat. give me some actual drama. hell, make her a villain if you want. not evil because of the voice in her head, just kind of an asshole who does bad things. we really need a character like that. we cannot have another carbon copy of every other med cat pov or i will explode.

-also pls make her not gray. i dont care what other color. personally im a fan of black and white moonpaw, or a dilute tortie or something. just not gray.

-im super torn on the idea of a focus on the elders. for one, yes, its awesome to think we might have older pov cats, who have some level of wisdom and experience and might break the usual 'coming of age' mold. its also nice to think they wont be romance focused. but it also just feels like an excuse to reuse cats that people recognize, so they dont need to put effort into actually fleshing out the new generations. the erins are in denial about losing their old well-known characters and being forced to reinvent the cast. they arent really equipped for it and i think thats where this is coming from.

-leafstar going blind could be really interesting. i hope it brings other cats' blindness back into focus (jayfeather, and brightheart's missing eye, longtail when he was alive). we've never really explored cats going blind or deaf as they get older, especially with cats in power. personally i think a blind leader could be awesome, but i'm betting they're just gonna retire her. too bad.

-im so sick of this whole 'oh no our connection to starclan!!!!' bullshit. i hope this time they arent able to fix it. i hope starclan is gone forever. maybe an arc focused on a societal reconstruction after the center of their cultish beliefs gets ripped away. thats never gonna happen obviously, but it would be really cool.

-in general this kind of feels like a mesh of all the other arcs. focus on adult cats (dotc), tawnypelt and crowfeather coming back and, if akira is right, moving territory again (tnp), skyclan problems (avos), moonpool threatened and evil spirit communication (tbc). i hope they do a few unique things because my hopes arent too high for this if it really is just a mash-up. it feels to me like theyre running out of ideas.

[smolmoss]

Introduction thingy!

hihi!! i go by Smol, Kirby, or Moss :) my pronouns are they/he or kit/purr! im really shy and have a hard time socializing so i might not post alot or use many words

heres my carrd! heres my commission carrd! discord servers where i save my emotes! (will update soon)

about my emotes!

i'll post emojis and do emote requests for fun sometimes!! (it may take me a while to get to requests/open requests, sorry abt that! it can be quite hard to find time and energy, since i have other things to do as well @w@"") what i will/wont do, and other info, under the 'keep reading' thingy!

-----

things i will do:

> nonverbal, semiverbal, mute, losing speech stuff

> neurodivergent things, such as stimming

> LGBTQIA+ and MOGAI things

> alterhuman, kin, nonhuman stuff

>age regression/little things

> anything related to my interests (u can see what those are in my carrd!)

>fictional characters (sometimes!)

-----

things i won't do

> anything nsfw

> anything homophobic, racist, and generally just mean

> or if i just dont wanna do the request or find it too hard to make into an emote

also!!!

> pls credit me when u use them, or at least dont pretend theyre yours!

> u can edit them, make emotes based off them, use them as a base, add them on moodboards, ect! but credit me as the base/inspo if u do!

>please Don't put any of my art into any AI art thing! No ai art, no nft, none of that stuff !!

> theyre created for discord, but u can use them in other places :> (rules for my non-emote art are more strict on crediting me, but mostly the same as emote rules for now!)

other stuff!

i mainly post emotes, but sometimes ill post non-emote art! non-emote art will most likely be of my interests, friends, and ocs :> or maybe ill do drawings similar to emotes but arent quite, like a hugging gif you can use to virtual hug someone, or something like that!

heres my reblog account! is not nessecary to look at or follow, just thought id offer if anyone would be interested :3

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Pain in My Heart // Benedict Bridgerton

Request: Could I please request a Bridgerton imagine where Eloise or Daphne are trying to matchmake Reader with one of their brothers (you can pick which one) but Reader actually hits it off with another brother who's in love at first sight (again, your choice!!). - @libraryoffandomsuniverse

A/N: I am so sorry for how long this has taken!! I hope I have done your request justice. I had a lot of fun writing this, I’m pretty proud of what I’ve come up so I hope you like!! Thank you for requesting! Title: Pain in My Heart - Otis Redding

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Platonic), Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader (Romantic)

Warnings: pining, mutual pining, awful flirting (I can't write it for the life in me), unrequited love (?), a pride and prejudice moment, love confessions, fluff, very very light angst.

Word count: 4.7k

There wasn’t a lot that Daphne and Eloise Bridgerton had in common. It was thought by their mother that due to their closeness in age, they would get along swimmingly. However, by the time that Eloise could speak for herself, it became increasingly clear that there were to be no two people different than that of Eloise and Daphne.

However, whilst the two did not share the same tastes in music or literature, they were united in the hope that they would see their elder brothers happily in love.

It is on a Wednesday in the middle of February when Daphne decides that it is time for her eldest brother, Anthony, to find a wife.

Her decision is made when Anthony stalks into the family drawing room. The only sign of his anger being the blazing of his eyes. Dramatically, he throws himself onto the closest couch, his legs stretching across the pale blue fabric as he laments the meddling of mothers.

Daphne barely represses the urge to roll her eyes. She could tell that Eloise was having a hard time not telling her brother how easy he had it in comparison to rights of women and marriage.

Thankfully, however, Anthony is saved from such a lecture by the announcement of a beloved friend. (Y/N) (Y/L/N) had known the Bridgerton family for as long as she had been alive. The same age as Daphne, the two had fallen into an easy friendship that grew more cherished the more time passed.

Upon her announcement, Anthony sits up with keen interest. An action not missed by both Daphne and Eloise – they share a look, one only understood by sisters with masses of brothers.

“Dear (Y/N),” Daphne greets, standing from her chair to greet her lifelong friend, “How have you been?”

“I’ve been very well though it has only been a couple of days since you saw me last.”

Daphne laughs; a light and airy sound. “I can still miss you in that time. Come, sit by me and we can catch up.”

The two women are soon joined by Eloise who places her book down on the table, spine up so she does not lose her page. From where they sit, neither Anthony nor Benedict can hear what the women seem to be whispering about though it seems to be of a serious issue with grave looks on their faces.

Benedict decides that he doesn’t like the look of frustration on her face; the furrow of her brows. If it wouldn’t raise questions of his sanity, he would press his thumb to the furrow, smoothing out her brow so not a trace of the worry remained.

“(Y/N),” Anthony calls, interrupting the conversation currently taking place between the three women, “Would you be attending Lord and Lady Hopton’s ball later on this week? Lord Hopton has done nothing but discuss the expense being put into the event.”

(Y/N) swallows her small sip of tea, placing the cup and saucer down on the table before answering the eldest Bridgerton. “I do plan on attending,” She smiles, fiddling with her gloved fingers.

A pleased smile breaks out across Anthony’s face as he nods. Turning away from her, Anthony walks back to the pale blue couch that only mere moments ago he had thrown himself across in vexation at his dear mother. Now, he sits down gently, making sure every ounce of his nobility is on show.

Benedict cannot help but roll his eyes at the antics of his elder brother. As if on a covert mission for the crown, Benedict’s gaze slides back to her – runs over her figure, taking in the way her dress sits on her form and the way her smile lights up her whole face. He’s a fool in love, he realises, but he would rather be a fool in love with her than a fool in love with anyone else.

It’s as if he finally understands what the poets write about; how the artists never paint more than their muse. As Benedict peers down at the sketchbook in his hands, he comes to realise that he has been drawing her for months. He has found his muse and it’s close to breaking him when he sees the plotting glance shared between Daphne and Eloise.

(Y/N) sits at the table, utterly unaware of the plan being concocted between his sisters. He has the urge to scream, to yell but he keeps quiet. Benedict becomes the very definition of decorum; smiling politely at her when their eyes meet from across the room. The very moment sends his heart skipping a beat before picking up a rhythm he isn’t certain is compatible with life. He has to stop himself from reaching up to grab his chest to ensure his heart doesn’t beat right out of it.

All too soon the moment is over, and she returns to laughing with his younger sisters, but even she knows that something has changed between them. (Y/N) wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight; the very notion belonging only to fairytales, but she, herself, could not deny the thrill that overtook her body when she met the blue eyes of Benedict Bridgerton.

-----------

Lord and Lady Hopton owned one of the last remaining Tudor residences in London. Many had fallen during the reformation, but in some strange stroke of luck, the Hopton’s home had remained largely undamaged. From there, it passed down the male line as all properties and titles were wont to do in such a society.

The current Lord and Lady prided themselves on the tracking of their lineage, dedicating themselves to the conservation of their home. It was rare for them to throw a ball such as this one, but with the favourable weather, Lady Hopton was able to convince her husband it would be well enough for the courtyard to be used to entertain their nearest and dearest.

There was no set theme; an idea many were grateful for. As much as (Y/N) loved the dress up, the competitive nature between eligible ladies wasn’t something she was in the mood for.

The atmosphere is much more relaxed as (Y/N) takes a turn about the room, smiling politely at the women she has grown up with in London society. They would be civil towards each other, but there was no real friendships forged. (Y/N) was quite content with the Bridgerton brood.

Though they had arrived together, (Y/N) found herself wandering from the comforting presence of the family. She could feel Anthony’s eyes on her, and she thinks of Daphne’s suggestion from the other day; the eldest Bridgerton girl had all but suggested that (Y/N) marry Anthony.

Whilst the suggestion was flattering, (Y/N) hadn’t stopped thinking of the moment she shared with Benedict. She thinks of the moment often; remembers the way his stare felt, as if he was staring into her very soul and he liked what he found. She thinks of the way her body responded; the shiver sent through her and how she realised that she liked the way he looked at her. As if she hung the moon and stars in the sky for him, and him alone.

(Y/N) loses herself in the crowd. She wanders and wanders, watching new love form and old love strengthen as she catches sight of couples beginning their night. (Y/N) continues her ruminating until she bumps into something hard. Another body.

(Y/N) cringes when she finds herself face to face with the chest of Benedict Bridgerton. “Benedict!” She gasps, “I’m sorry.”

He steadies her with a gentle hand to her elbow. “You have nothing to apologise for. You looked to be deep in thought, I’m only sorry for interrupting you.”

(Y/N) feels her skin begin to flush. I was thinking of you, she wants to cry at the man, but she only just manages to refrain herself.

Benedict laughs before he can stop himself. “If you’re reacting like that, I have to know what you were thinking of.”

“Nothing for nosies,” She responds, a coy smile crossing her painted lips.

Benedict gasps, pressing a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “You wound me, (Y/N).”

“I’m sure you’ll recover,” (Y/N) laughs, patting Benedict’s arm in mock pity.

“I don’t know,” Benedict expresses, his eyes running over her face and outfit. “I think I’m going to need someone to nurse me back to health.”

(Y/N) feels her skin once again begin to heat at the insinuation in his words. She had encountered banter before with the Bridgerton brothers, but she had never encountered such overt flirting. Benedict’s eyes glittered with mirth; his smile crinkling the corners of his eyes – this was him. This was Benedict in his element; he was an artist, a gentleman, and a man that could render her speechless with a simple line of speech.

She finds it hard to respond for a moment; finds it hard to string two thoughts together in his intoxicating presence. She flounders for a second, watching Benedict continue to smile widely as if he had nothing better to do than waste time with her.

Eventually, she collects herself enough. She peers up at the man from under her lashes, fluttering them to the best of her ability as she whispers, “Such requests may make the recovery period a lot longer and a lot harder.”

Leaving the man speechless, (Y/N) pats his arm once more before taking her leave. Feeling hot and bothered by her encounter with Benedict, (Y/N) ambles over to drinks table. Daphne and Eloise stand there nursing their own drinks; they smile widely at their friend as she approaches the table.

“Have you given thought to what I suggested the other day?” Daphne asks; watching her best friend over the rim of her lemonade glass.

“Courting Anthony?” (Y/N) clarifies, reaching for her glass of the tepid drink. She frowns absentmindedly; it was one of the main issues with balls, they never could keep the drinks cold enough to be refreshing throughout the night. They almost always turned sour.

“The very suggestion,” (Y/N)’s dearest friend states with a smile.

“It wouldn’t work,” (Y/N) protests, urging her friends to see the truth. “We aren’t suited for each other.”

“Anthony disagrees,” Daphne chimes, looking and feeling all to superior in the conversation. “He confided to me only yesterday that he wants to court you.”

The ground is close to swallowing her whole; the walls becoming far too close for her liking. Her mouth is dry when she tries to swallow around the lump in her throat. “That wouldn’t be fair to him,” She croaks, feeling all too close to tears.

“Why not?” Daphne demands, making her vexation known by placing her hands on her hips.

“Daphne,” Eloise interrupts, glancing warily between the two women. “(Y/N) isn’t in love with Anthony. She’s in love with someone else.”

The fight leaves her beloved friend in an instant; she brings a hand to her mouth to cover the shock of Eloise’s words. “I didn’t know,” She whispers, “I wouldn’t have pushed so hard.”

“I know you wouldn’t have,” (Y/N) appeases, “I’m rather new to this.”

“Do we know who it is?” Daphne asks, unable to keep the excitement off her face as she thinks of the handful of men worthy enough to love her dear friend.

(Y/N) sighs, deciding whether to come clean and tell her longest friend that she has found herself hopelessly in love with her brother. She hadn’t even expected it. “It’s Benedict,” She eventually confesses, feeling pressured by the investigative gaze of Daphne Bridgerton.

“Benedict?” Daphne asks, confused, “As in my other brother?”

“The very same,” (Y/N) comments lightly… too lightly as if ready to be on the defence for her feelings for Benedict.

Daphne blinks once, twice before her face breaks with the most beautiful smile. “Oh (Y/N)!” She cries, “This is wonderful!”

“He might not love me back,” (Y/N) whispers, doing her best to keep a light spin on the situation but the idea that Benedict may not return her feelings hurts far more than it should.

“And Anthony still wants to court you,” Eloise reminds her, her voice close to pity.

“Speaking of the devil,” Daphne murmurs with a smile on her face, “Anthony is heading this way.”

“He is?” (Y/N) asks, pivoting on the spot to the find the eldest Bridgerton making his way through the crowd. He smiles at his sisters, briefly checking their glasses to ensure they were sticking strictly to the lemonade offered. When he is suited with what he finds, he turns to (Y/N) and holds out his hand. “Would you care to dance?” He asks her with a confident smile.

She nods her consent, taking his offered hand and allowing herself to be led to the floor. Anthony leads her expertly across the floor; lessons as a child and years in the London society forging him to be an impressive dancer. He makes her laugh as they continue dance, and whilst (Y/N) has a good time with the eldest Bridgerton, she cannot see herself falling for the man like she can see her entire future with Benedict.

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

The ball had wound down naturally; families and lovers beginning to make their way home through the early morning London streets. (Y/N) travels with the Bridgertons, having arrived with them in the first place. Daphne focuses on the streets of London, doing her best not to fall asleep before getting home to her bed.

“How are you getting home?” Daphne asks, not removing her gaze from the darkened streets of the capital city.

“I’m not sure, I don’t want to have to wait for another carriage,” (Y/N) complains, holding a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn that had slipped out. The tiredness was clinging to her bones now; she wanted nothing more to crawl into her own bed, sink into the pillows and fall into a dreamworld where Benedict climbs into the other side of the bed.

“Stay with us,” Eloise invites, meeting Anthony’s eyes.

“I wouldn’t be an imposition?” (Y/N) asks smally; the last thing she wanted was to be burden on her friends.

“You never could be,” Anthony smiles, “You’re always welcome to stay the night.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” She whispers, reaching for his hand in the dark and squeezing.

Silence falls for the rest of the ride; the weariness of each of them punctuating the air, creating a warmer atmosphere that leaves (Y/N) blinking away sleep. Eloise does her best to remain awake, but her head soon winds up on Anthony’s shoulder to which the man looks the surprised. He recovers quickly, adjusting his younger sister to make her more comfortable.

The Bridgerton siblings and (Y/N) all sigh in blessed relief when the carriage rolls to a stop outside Bridgerton House. The door opening lets in a cold blast of air, making her shiver as she reaches for the handle to help herself down.

“Here,” Benedict’s voice sounds in the dark light of night, “Let me help you.”

His hand reaches for hers; it clasps hers gently as he helps her down from the carriage. All too soon, his hand falls from hers and (Y/N) is left feeling bereft from the absence of his touch. “Thank you,” She whispers, taking a risk and glancing up at the blue eyes already fixed steadily on her.

“You’re welcome,” He murmurs. Benedict glances back to the carriage to find the rest of his family descending on them. “Goodnight,” He whispers, ducking his head in a bow and leaving her on the steps of Bridgerton House.

(Y/N) watches the man depart in somewhat of a daze. If she focused hard enough, she could still feel his hand in hers. She could feel every fingerprint, every crease, every line in his palm. She could feel it all; she wanted to feel more. She wanted everything with that man; would happily offer up her everything for a single glimpse at what it could be like to wake up in his arms and be happy.

Sighing heavily, she touches a hand to her forehead, pausing in the grand entryway of the Bridgerton family home. She felt so keenly for the man that she knew she would suffer the worst fate to man should he not return her feelings: heartbreak.

“(Y/N)?” Anthony calls from the door, his arm around Eloise’s waist. “Would you meet me in my study? I need to talk to you.”

“Of course,” She allows, smiling at the sight before her. Anthony whispers something to his sister to which Eloise offers her goodnights and begins to climb the stairs to her room, Anthony following behind her with a worried look on his face that only a beloved brother could master.

Anthony’s study smelled of wood polish; the mahogany desk sitting by the windows being the main feature of the room. It’s dark wood providing the much of the fragrance in the room; it’s a comforting scent. (Y/N) smiles when she realises that it’s comforting as it reminds her of the Viscount; the scent of his spicy cologne intermingled with the wood, becoming one and the same.

“Thank you for waiting,” Anthony whispers, closing the door behind him, “I know how tired you are, but I really wanted to speak to you.”

“Whatever’s the matter?”

Suddenly, Anthony no longer holds the prowess of a Viscount but rather, looks like the eighteen year old boy handed a peerage all too soon. He runs a hand through his hair out of nerves, pacing back and forth behind his desk. Eventually, he comes to a slow stop, resting his hands on the back of his father’s ageing chair. “Have you given any thought to your future?”

“It’s been on my mind more and more these days,” She answers honestly. It’s all she has thought of since her eyes met Benedict’s across the room and she got a glimpse into what her mornings, afternoons, evenings with the man could be like.

“I think we could be good together,” Anthony argues, offering up a slice of his heart for the taking, “I think we work well together.”

“Anthony, may I be honest with you for a moment?”

“I’d hope for nothing more.”

She takes a deep breath; steeling her nerves before smiling at the Viscount. “With all due respect, I don’t think you do love me.”

Anthony moves to interrupt her; a flash of anger and upset in his eyes. He quietens when she holds up a single hand; begging him to let her continue. “Anthony, I think you were looking for someone to stop your mother from pestering you about marriage. I just happened to walk into the room at the right moment.”

Anthony frowns; he takes in (Y/N)’s words, letting them roll around his mind as he thinks back to the first day when he realised he could truly love the woman sitting in front of him. Violet Bridgerton had been on him from the moment he walked through the front door; producing yet another list of eligible women in London that he could find a potential match in. He had taken the list from his beloved mother and in the privacy of his study, he had ripped the list to tiny pieces making sure that none of the names were legible.

On some level, he has always loved her. (Y/N) had been in his life from the very day she was born; mother being friends, Violet able to offer (Y/N)’s advice as she was her firstborn. At this point, Violet was a seasoned expert on motherhood. Anthony had always known of the girl that was best friends with Daphne; he had watched her grow up. On some level, he has always had some feeling for her.

He knows know, though, that those feelings could never broach romance. There was too deep an affection between them.

“You’re right,” Anthony states, “It wouldn’t be a love match.”

“It wouldn’t,” She affirms, taking a seat in front of the large, wooden desk. Silhouettes of his parents and siblings decorate the space; it brings a fond smile to her face. Anthony presented a strong front, but in private, he was as much the adoring son and brother.

“But you think you have found your love match,” Anthony declares, wanting to clear the air.

“I’m not sure,” She laughs mirthlessly. “I have no clue as to whether he feels the same.”

“He’d be an idiot, not to,” Anthony compliments, “Do I know the lucky man?”

(Y/N) looks sheepish as she stares at the Viscount. She had already confessed to Daphne and Eloise – what harm could one more person do?

“It’s Benedict.”

“You love him,” Anthony whispers; not an accusation, not an ounce of anger in his voice. A simple fact stated for the room.

(Y/N) nods. “I do. I love him with all that I am and all that I know I could be.”

A sad, bittersweet smile crosses Anthony’s face; he won’t speak of how the words hurt him. He reaches for her hand and clasps it tightly between both of his.

“Go to him,” He whispers, “You have my blessing.”

(Y/N) stands. Her intention is to leave the room and find the Bridgerton who had so readily taken root within her heart, but first she crosses to where Anthony stands behind his desk. He watches her with curious eyes as the silk of her glove brushes his cheek; his eye flutter closed when he feels the featherlight press of her lips and the whisper of her gratitude.

Anthony keeps his eyes closed when she pulls away from him; he keeps them closed until he hears the tell-tale click of the door. It is only then that Anthony allows himself to open his eyes and peer into the heartbreak now cracking open his chest. Not for the love he though he felt, but for the utter want racing through his body. He wants a love like that; he was going to find a love like that.

They would be happy together; he thinks to himself as he breathes in the floral scent of her perfume. They would be happy together, perfectly suited to the point that Anthony craves such intimacy. One day; he promises, one day he would hold such a treasure within his hands.

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

Bridgerton House remained warm and inviting even after the family had long retired for bed. The sconces lining the walls still lit; their warm light easy on anyone’s eyes should they need to traverse the hallways for whatever reason.

The path to Benedict’s room isn’t one she has taken often. Thinking on it, (Y/N) realises that save for being shown the door on her first ever visit to the London home, she has not stepped foot close to the room since. Until tonight, that is.

Her skirts swish delicately underfoot as (Y/N) makes her way to his room. She doesn’t dare utter a single breath for the fear of being caught; all around her slumber her closest friends. If she were caught by a member of staff, her reputation balanced on being ruined.

Her hand trembles as she clenches it into a fist, raises it to the plain white door and knocks twice. She waits on the threshold, twisting her fingers into her skirts – a nervous habit she’s had since she was a child. She was thankful that she no longer bit her nails down to the bed.  

“Come in,” calls his quiet voice and her nerves only heighten. Taking a deep breath, she pushes open the door that could reveal her future.

“(Y/N),” Benedict gasps, the deep v of his shirt falling open, revealing far more of his bare chest than (Y/N) had expected to see tonight.

“I wanted to talk to you,” She whispers, hovering between the doorway and his room. She does her best to not stare at the defined muscles on display but loses the battle. Her eyes run over the parts of his muscular torso and the strong forearms shown with the sleeves of white shirt rolled up. She didn’t think it was possible to be attracted to the forearms of a person, but here was Benedict proving her wrong.

“What if you get caught?” He whisper-asks, worry lacing his tone as he glances at something behind her. She turns on instinct only to find an empty hallway and three lit sconces.

“Anthony knows where I am,” She retorts, stepping further into Benedict’s room.

“Anthony?”

“He gave me his blessing.”

“To enter my room… unattended… late at night?”

“Essentially, yes,” She smiles, thinking back to her conversation with the Viscount.

“Why were you talking to Anthony?” Benedict asks before he can stop himself. He doesn’t like the simmering jealousy he feels that the picture of (Y/N) alone with Anthony in his study. He clears his throat to chase away the hollow ache of envy; he doesn’t want to picture the conversation. He doesn’t think he could handle it.

“He asked me to court him.”

“Oh,” Benedict responds, feeling his heart begin to crack in his chest. “What did you say?”

“I told him I couldn’t. We wouldn’t suit each other and one other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“I don’t love him. I love someone else.”

“You do? Do I know them?”

(Y/N) laughs, stretching her arms out as she gestures to Benedict’s bedroom. “I’m stood in your room in the middle of the night, Benedict, with full knowledge that if I were to be caught by any of the staff, I would be ruined. What does that tell you?”

Benedict frowns, refusing to let himself fall into the hope growing in his chest. He feels like Icarus; too close to the sun, too close to thing he wants most in this world.

“Stop this pain in my heart,” She commands weakly. “Stop this pain and tell me if you feel the same. If you don’t, I understand but I’d ask you not to tell anyone of this midnight visit.”

His mouth runs dry, and he finds it hard to answer. He’s falling, falling, falling for the woman stood across from him and he cannot find the words to accurately describe the depth of his feelings for her. That day in the drawing room – he’s known her for years, always been aware of her, but that day, it was as if he was finally seeing her for the pure beauty that she inhabits. She could rival Aphrodite herself.

Upset shutters across (Y/N)’s face as she nods twice, trying her best to keep the burn of tears at bay. “It’s okay, Benedict,” She whispers, turning for the door, “Thank you for listening.”

At the last moment, Benedict reaches out and snatches her wrist. “Don’t go,” He pleads, “Don’t leave me. I don’t think I could live with myself if you left me.”

“I don’t understand,” She whispers; confusion lacing her voice. Her eyebrows furrow as she stares at the man before her, “You didn’t say anything. You stayed silent; I took that as my cue to leave.”

Benedict shakes his head. “Don’t go,” He whispers, bringing a hand up to card through the loose strands of hair framing her face. He almost preens as she leans into his touch. “I feel the same, I love you just the same,” Benedict confesses; feeling the weight leave his chest.

“You do?” She asks; her voice small but hopeful.

“I do,” Benedict smiles, brushing her cheek with his finger, “I think I always have, but I didn’t realise until recently.”

(Y/N) sniffles as tears threaten to make an appearance. She laughs wetly, unable to stop the giggle from leaving her mouth as Benedict wipes away the tears. “I hope those are happy tears,” He murmurs wryly.

“They are,” She answers, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her level. “They definitely are.”

“Good,” He answers.

Their faces are so close now it would only take a fraction of a movement to press their lips together; to seal the promise of their union. “Kiss me, Benedict,” She whispers; need lacing her voice as she stares into his famously blue eyes.

Benedict doesn’t need to be told twice; it isn’t often he gets to kiss a goddess.

********

Bridgerton taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​ @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown​ @janelongxox​ @magicalxdaydream​ @aspiringsloth20​ @wallwriterstuff​ @darkestbeforethedawn16​ @gryffindors-weasley​ @spideysz​ 

Taglist is open! Drop me an ask to be added! :)

[jayvikbrainrot]

Piltover!Viktor and Zaun!Jayce

HUGE SHOUT OUT TO @hey_vickiii on Twitter for some super cute images depicting this AU. Full credit to them for this awesome idea.

Viktor

Viktor’s family has new money from a very successful textile business. Looking into the history of computers vs. weavers looms, punch cards and all that, I think that would be the perfect sort of foundation for Viktor’s interest in math. He was probably designing loom punch cards along side learning to write in complete sentences.

Viktor still has a guarded personality. I feel like his parents are probably 1st generation immigrants. Viktor probably spent a lot of time being the negotiator for his parents or sitting in on meetings to later tell his parents what other businessmen were saying behind their backs.

Viktor sees himself as the defender between his family and the rest of the world.

Viktor still has a bad leg but his mobility is more akin to Act one Viktor, who uses a cane seldomly. He also uses it on the correct side due to having better access to doctors at an early age. He has no issues with his lungs.

Because his mobility wasn’t impared he is actually a fairly skilled fencer.

His cane is actually a sword cane, so helpful for mobility, defence, and he finds it helps people underestimate him.

Viktor and Mel are as close as two people can be who have trust issues. They’re *Mean Girls. As in you can probably find them in a corner accessing everyone. They bond over politics and solving problems in indirect ways. They aren’t dating but will frequently use each other as +1’s as a sort of defence against unwanted advances.

Viktor STYLES HIS HAIR. No idea why this is a big deal to me but I am obsessed with it. He wears it pushed back with lots of product as it is very unwieldy.

Jayce

Jayce still has an interest in magic due to the incident in the snowstorm, HOWEVER that storm also was a huge financial loss for his family causing them to lose everything, forcing them to move to Zaun.

While they dont have a hammer empire Jayce moved more into construction to help support his family.

He doesn’t have a formal education but he is a hell of an engineer. He gets a reputation for building safer, lighter, more innovative buildings/repairs using the materials available.

He is just as personable as we know him, just with slightly less of a filter.

Jayce’s big Zaunite trait is that he is LOUD.

Like he already has a voice that carries but he also talks just a notch louder than everyone else. I would think he might have some hearing loss from working construction really young or taking on jobs without the proper safety equipment.

Jayce doesn’t know he has hearing loss! He just thought the world was ‘like that’ and learned to subconsciously read lips because it helped.

Jayce has a bit of a faux-hawk and tattoooooo’s.

Jayce is still friends with Caitlyn they just met much later in life. He tries getting his family’s hammer business up and running by trying to sell their hammers in Piltover, but his very candid attitude and Zaunite features get him kicked out/reported a lot. Caitlyn gets called for these situations a lot and the two developed a friendship.

Jayce and Viktor

Viktor learns that someone has been borrowing all the books on magic from Piltover Academy, and not returning them.

He catches a Zaunite leaving the building and decides to follow him.

It is of course Jayce. He has a trick where he will stand by the door, hands full with heavy looking boxes and waits until someone will open the door for him. A bit of social engineering.

Jayce realizes he’s being followed and confronts Viktor, Viktor who wont be intimidated shows off his fencing prowess.

He’s not terribly mad about the books but is more interested in why. And hearing Jayce talk passionately about his ideas, as well as some of the notes he’s written in the book's margins, Viktor sees something in him and starts hatching a plan to get him into Piltover Academy.

Viktor has heard about Jayce before, as his techniques have trickled up into Piltover Engineering.

Other ideas:

Jayce seeing Viktor and Mel together has the BIGGEST Bisexual Panic.

Viktor builds Jayce a portable hearing aid he can tuck into his pocket, and Jayce is astounded by how loud he actually is. Viktor can’t stop laughing because he is reminded of a puppy who is surprised by his own bark.

This headcannon kind of is perpetual no matter the AU but Zaunites aren’t really bothered by nudity, communal baths or bath houses are common. Often families will have to share a tub, so privacy not really something you get down there.

Viktor is thoroughly annoyed that Jayce will take his shirt off at the slightest influx of heat. (okay not really but he is FLUSTERED)

Jayce sees Viktor’s hair unstyled and immediately loves it way more than usual.

Viktor is the main speaker of the two having honed his skills as being his parents negotiator. But that doesn’t stop Jayce from being a big intimidating presence when he sees his partner is feeling threatened.

And for some plot line ✨drama✨

Maybe Silko gets involved mayyyybe he backs Jayce into a corner and gets him to report back their hextech findings. Of course resulting in that classic “you were only using me?!” At first! But then -“ sort of scenario.

[roleplayfinder]

☆ -

─ hello ! ♡ my name is belladonna. i use she / her pronouns and i am 19. i am studying in college, so replies will be as often as i can make them come out, since they will be long and detailed. i thought i’d make this post since it is much longer and covers more of what i wanted to post! so here it goes! i am looking for a very literature or novella type roleplay partner, who would like to flesh out a very long term roleplay! i would prefer tumblr roleplays, but if you’d prefer a different media to use, please let me know! 

─ i am really looking for an original fandomless roleplay. i double only as i find doubling very fun, and i don’t like one sided roleplays as i lose interest in them very quickly. these are the plots i really enjoy ! ( for my side, i would like either wlw or mlw, i have not decided yet ! ) i do also like integrating dark themes into some roleplays ! like violence/gore/jealousy. we of course do not have to do any of those if you do not wish! it is all up to you and your comfort! 

─ i am looking for a very long term roleplay partner that will be patient with some hiatus's when they come, and will headcanon with me ! you must be willing to double up, don't reach out if you wont ( this specific paragraph is what im looking the most for ) 

─ i LOVE talking about ocs with people, and being able to headcanon and talk through the creation process of ocs with people! please be willing to do this with me if you’d like to roleplay with me, the more i get invested in this roleplay the better it will be trust me hehe /hj

→ victorian plot ( period drama )

→ historical plots 

→ royal/kingdom plots

→ vampires !!! ( i love this one, will 10000% be always down to roleplay vampire plots )

→ medieval fantasy 

→ steampunk 

and more! these can be mixed and matched, and you can give me ideas and we can always swap ideas as well! 

important! for nsfw!

under no circumstances will minor characters be involved in any and all nsfw roleplays. while i absolutely enjoy spicy scenes in roleplays and i will put my all into keeping them descriptive and fun to read, i will not purely roleplay nsfw. i want to incorporate lots of drama and plot, and the nsfw scenes make sense for the characters and their relationship.

─ what i require in a roleplay partner

being flexible with my reply time, it may take me a few days or a week, if you don’t like waiting please don’t reach out

quality over quantity. i would prefer a really engaging smaller paragraph than something that feels long and drawn out!

i tend to write a lot maybe even 2000-3000 words per reply, i love LOVE writing out long replies, but again don’t feel the need to match my word length if you can not. 

you need to be 18+ to reply any and all adult themes with me, i will not roleplay those themes with minors. 

you will plot and talk with me !! i would love to make friends and chat throughout the plotting process (which im hoping will be very thorough!) 

you like aesthetics ! i love using images, symbols and lowercase aesthetic in my replies. please let me know if you’d like proper grammar. 

─ fandoms that i also roleplay!

resident evil (all games & media )

alice in wonderland (?) if this counts as a fandom

elder scrolls v: skryim ( i would love to do this one!! ) 

star wars ( all media, movies, and shows)

devil may cry ( just 5 at the moment )

─ contact!

please feel free to message me on tumblr, also let me know of your time zone/age/name/pronouns when we communicate! here is my blog page. i will get back to you as soon as i can, i do find it hard to reply very quickly but i hope you will be patient with me. thank you for reading this..terribly long post, but i hope i piqued your interest. have an amazing day/night/evening!!

with love, belladonna

[thekingofwinterblog]

Also the whole "flooding the world thing" - I think its a copout too for Oda to remove any complexity - now even some badguys must simply fight for the good side, cause yeah, nobody wants to drown.

There isn't any ambiguity over marines, like "the goverment may be bad, but it atleast stops anarchy from taking over" - no, now the goverment literally wants to destroy the world, so even Black Beard is the lesser evil, cause supposedly he just wants to rule it not destroy it in a black hole, but maybe thats gonna get revealed too lol.

I actually disagree with this, because this has been foreshadowed for a long time, and the set up for a massive escalation has been building up as the series and our understanding of the World's history has been revealed... But there was definitly a massive change at some pount, am im pretty sure I can pin point what it was.

But to set the stage...

There is one, single canon One Piece Movie. Strong World, written by Oda as Luffy's final adventure before everything went down at sabaody, amazon lily, impel Down, and Marineford.

But there was going to be a second canon movie.

One Piece Film Z was made with the idea of it being canon from day one in mind... Only for Oda to realize there was so many continuity mistakes within the movie in relation to the film, that he wqs forced to scrap it as being in continuity with the manga.

However, the important thing is not that it wqs scrapped as canon, but what Oda wrote as it's plot and how it relates to Imu's eventual plan.

The plot of Z, is that the former Marine Admiral Z is planning on ending the Golden Age of Piracy...

By using a super weapon called the Dyna stones to cause a volcanic chain reaction that would lay the New world beneath the waves(Something that an eagle eyed viewer might realize means all the islands in the new world is part of one, continious chain of tectonic activity, suggesting it was all one continent).

Sound familiar? That's right, this was Oda foreshadowing the eventual big endgame of the series by showing a villain plan something similar, just on a smaller scale.

Also, It's not really focused on before the very end, because this is very much a movie about the Straw-Hats vs Z, but the marines are NOT onboard with this plan at all, even if they would wipe out Kaido, Big Mom, Shanks and Blackbeard by doing it.

The reward is not worth the cost.

Again, Oda puts the reality that for how bad the marines can and are through the series, there are moral lines that even they, even Akainu himself wont cross.

I have a lot of critiques of Oda as a writer, but one thing I cannot complain is just how thouroughly he plans things out and hints at events to come. How well he does that as a norm, just makes the times when he fails look so much more jarring by comparison.

Then of course there is Noah. The giant, giant Ship that was the big unfired chekov's gun from Fiahman isles, made as a response to the reality that the side of the great Kingdom had lost the war, and now had to prepare for the contigency plan.

We have no idea what Joyboy's original plan was, or what he wrote on that apology to his friend/lover/ally Poseidon, but she and her people presumably built this ship as a result, and the reason for it was that Joy Boy and his side must have feared that the endpoint of everything was that the entire world would end up being flooded as a result of them losing the war.

Similarily, Wano, the only other country that we know fought on the side of Joy Boy and his allies, erected enormous walls around itself, which charqcters in story thinks are for defence, but when you have the full picture, it's obvious these were made in preparation of what they must havr thought would be coming soon, a total sinking of the entire world.

Another Chekov's gun that is as of yet unfired is Iceburg's plan to turn Water Seven into a floating Island. Ehich was treated as an interesting solution to a problem at hand, but when you realize where this story would ultimately end up heading, it's actual endgame purpose becomes clear, as one of the island's that are going to survive the comi g sinking, just so happens to be the same one where Pluton was originally built.

Just in time for the Thousand Sunny to fullfill it's purpose of reaching Laugh Tale and the Straw-Hats needing to level the playing field for Blackbeard's coming aquisition of Pluton.

Now with all of this in mind, it's pretty clear that Oda has been planning this endgame for a very, very long time.

So with that in mind, what was the shift i was talking about at the start?

Well, from a story perspective, the eventual flooding of the world was always One Piece's endgame.

But from an in universe perspective, i dont believe at all, that this was what Imu and the Gorosei was going to be about all along.

Rather what i think was the original plan, was that though Joy Boy somehow foresaw this as the future that would take place when he was "Reborn", what actually was going to be the case, was that the plan to just sink the world and be done with it was going to be the result of massive escalation from the World Government's perspective.

From a historical perspective, Imu has been the unchallenged leader of the world for a long, long time.

During that time, there was very little need, or motivation for Mariejois to flood the world... Why would they even consider such a course of action?

Well, if you pay attention to how we were introduced to these concepts back in Water Seven and Enies Lobby, there starts to form a picture.

Originally the stance of the WG going to any and all lengths to keep the very existence of the void century and the ancient weapons a secret was ironclad.

It was the way of things for centuries.

But then something happened. Something so monumental that they changed from trying to keep them buried, to try to revive them and harness their power for their own ends.

That something was 2. Things.

The great Pirate Era, and rise of the Yonko.

The greatest and most dangerous Pirate in history(So far) was Rocks, a man who tried to upend the entire world order, but at the end of the day, after his death his entire crew fell apart, and his ambitions and legacy died with him.

What really changed, was Roger, and the 4 Pirates who followed after him as the rulers of the next age.

Roger lit the world aflame in the great Golden Age of Piracy, and over the course of two decades, the World Govenrment's grip over the world began to disintegrate in the face of the rise of countless new pirates who took to the seas.

And of course, there was the other problem. The Yonko.

This is a fact that the Five Elder's immortality makes somewhat easy to miss, but not a single one of them, nor the Admirals, are on the same level of power as the Yonko.

Other than the Boar one, Luffy has so far beaten around the Gorosei lime ragdolls with little difficulty, and as we saw with both Luffy's manhandling of Kizaru, and a heavily wounded witebeard, who's age and illness made him unable to use his Haki to it's fullest potential still taking down Akainu in two hits, the Yonko are at a level of Pkwer that the World Government simply has nothing to bring to bear to realistically challenge them.

One, single exception might be Imu, as we don't have a good idea of how powerful the Monarch actually is, but Imu's capacity to actually be able to go out into the world is rather limited given how important total silence is on the very existence of such a figure.

And worse, while Rocks was a figure who's existence could be covered up, the Yonko weren't just pirates. They set themselves up as monarchs of their own, the inheritors of Roger as the rulers of the seas.

So influential was they they the world government couldn't directly challenge them, they couldn't wipe the knowledge of them from history, and they in general just had to tolerate their prescence and the risk that any one of them might go to Laugh Tale and find Roger's treasure.

So with that in mind, they tried(and eventually succeeded to some degree) to ressurect the ancient great weapons of old, to do with the great powers that brought ruin to the world, what their military power could not.

With this in mind, the logical conclusion is to assume that the plan to just sink the world beneath the seas would just be the next escalation.

That something being Luffy's awakening his devil fruit, The Ancient enemy of Poseidon coming back into the picture, and... Blackbeard.

I honestly dont know why he's so important in this situation(It would make way more sense if this happened AFTER he obtained Pluton), but im guessing that the fact he possesses the devil fruit the world government has labled as continuing the power of the Devil Himself has something to do with it.

So with this in mind, it makes way more sense that the final endgame of just "Flood everything and let god sort them out" was originally planned to be a direct escalation of the rising challenges Imu faces.

Just wipe the board clean, rather than risking the pieces doing to us what we did to the great kingdom.

Im honestly not sure WHY it changed to "This was always the plan.", but if i had to guess, Oda's original plan for this was that it was going to be Luffy's awakening that would serve as the final straw figuratively speaking, where Imu would finally reveal themselves and declare that play time was, figuratively over.

However if that was the chain of events, then Luffy's rise to Yonko would be an unambigiously bad thing, that would color the entire end of Wano in a rather grim light.

Rather than a hopefull beginning, it would instead be the final hours of the old age, before the events that took place there brought about the apokolypse.

There would be no way to spin that as a good ending in any way... And if there is anything that marrs Oda's writing more than anything else, it's his horrific fear of letting a story or arc end on a full on downer ending(The only exception to that ever being Marineford).

[mossygardenstone]

Hi !

How are you doing ? ^^

Can I request something angsty but maybe (if possible) with an happy ending for whoever you want ?

My idea was that their crush has hanahaki (because they think they don't love them)

I'm sorry, I don't really know how to explain the idea clearly ^^"

I hope you will have a nice day ! :3

I can totally do that for you! :3 I'll write for Red because that's my boy =w= But if you want someone else, feel free to request again! Hope I did it right! ;w;/ I may have gone overboard ;; Reader x Redd - with Hanahaki TW: Medical stuff, illness things, hospitals, angst, no proof reading oops, and swearing You plucked away a last petal from your shoulder, as you returned your gaze to the mirror, looking yourself over for a moment. Of all the people for you to fall for, it had to be him. When the monsters started to come from the underground, you never thought you'd be friends with them, let alone had fallen so head over heels for one of them. But something about this bone boy really got to you. Despite the rough and tough personality he put up, you could see who he was truly. But that's why you knew they wouldn't be interested in you. How could a monster be in love with a human? You looked your face over for a moment more in the mirror, your hands gripping the sink tightly. Once you felt that you had gathered yourself enough to be around others, you sighed and pushed off the sink, giving the mirror a last glance on your way out the bathroom door. Once you entered the living room, a pair of sockets shifted to look at you, as Red's constant smile seemed to grow more at your sight. "Was starting to worry ya fell in the toilet." He teased, his sockets shifting back to the video game he was play, that you had brought over to play with him. You simply forced a smile, that you wore well to block out any prying questions about how you had been, despite the fact your features has slowly worsen over time. Your body finally giving way to display how sickly you had been feeling as of late. You gave the other a soft chuckle and shifted to sit back in your spot next to him in the floor. "Where's your brother?" You asked, peeking over your shoulder, where the taller skeleton monster had been when you left. But it simply earned a shrug from Red, not even looking up from his game. "Didn't ask, he just said he had ta go." He gave a chuckle and shifted a socket to you again. "You know how he gets." You returned a chuckle, the smile you forced felt as constant as the skeletons smile. But you think your cheek muscles were making you have less of an advantage in that department. Your face hurt from smiling. Your body hurt from breath. And being around him just made it worse, you could feel your body react the second you're around him. It felt like you were dying slowly next to him, but that was okay. At least it would be next to him. Lost in your thought, your vision blurred, not even hearing Red as he starts to talk about the game. Your frame wobbled softly in it's spot as the room danced around you, just to swirl into a never ending blackness. You felt your lungs failing yourself, but now you could hear him, because he was much closer now. Your eyes weakly trailed up, to see his bone fingers gripping your shoulder tightly, but you couldn't feel his touch. Your eyes continued up to meet the sockets of the other, his yelling seemed muffled by the fog in your head, he look frustrated, his sockets narrowed at you, his eyelights reduced to pin pricks. But that expression changed once your eyes finally met his, you could see his frustration leave like a flash, the second he locked eyes with your dull ones. He was sweating now, his eyelights gone, leaving his deep sockets staring blankly at you. His worry was quickly amped as your eyes finally fluttered shut and you toppled over in the floor beside him. He gasped now, scrambling to your side and stroking a boney hand across your face, calling out your name, but getting no answer. You awake later, to the sounds of beeps, and the uncomfortable feeling of a cold, sterile room closing in around you. You blink groggily as you try to sit up, but your body refused to let you do more than softly shift around. But you soon stopped your movement, hearing a familiar voice in the next room. It was Alphys, and another more loud voice you also recognized as Sans. You stopped shifting so

you could listen to them in the other room, they seemed upset. But you thought you'd pass out again when you heard Alphys mention a word far too familiar for you. Hanahaki Disease. You knew you had it, you knew that's what was happening to you, it's an easy search. But no one else did, not them, not your friends, not a soul but you knew this. You could feel tears prick your eyes, as you heard Alphys explain it to Sans, your body shaking hoping he wouldn't catch on. But another voice rang out, this time from the room you were in. It was Papyrus, you hadn't even noticed he had been sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, arms folded over his uniform. "Alphys, Sans, they're awake." He barked almost as a command, and they funneled into the room as though it was one, locking eyes with you. Alphys went to spoke, but before she could even attempt to speak, Red's hulking frame was stomping toward you. "Why didn't ya tell me? D... Did ya not know? That's it right?" His tone sounded pleading, like he wanted more than anything for you to not known you were dying, than to not have told him, to hide something like this. You shifted your teary eyes away from him, you knew the longer you stared at him, the more they would fall. "I knew." You finally spoke after a while, making him stare in stunned silence, before his sockets screwed up in anger again. "Why the hell didn't ya tell us? Or at least me?" He sputtered out, his hands waving as he spoke. But when you didn't answer he simply let out a grumble and moved closer to your bed side. "Then tell me at least..." He started, causing you to look at him out of the side of your eye. He hung his head for a moment, thinking over everything he had learned today, before raising his head with a snap "Who the fuck is it then? Who are ya so in love with that it's doing this to ya?" He was shaking at this point, and he didn't know if it was anger, or fear. "And why the hell don't they love ya back?" His voice cracked at those words, and hearing it sent you over the edge as well, tears rolling down your face now, your body trembling to keep from letting out shaky sobs. "Because.." You started for a moment, bringing your hand up to wipe your eyes, the IV in your arm feeling weird as it moved. "I haven't told them." This caused Red to stare blankly, and finally shut up for a moment. Giving Alphys the perfect moment to finally speak. "But Y/N, you will die if you don't tell them soon. Or get the surgery." You winced and tried to choke back another sob. "I don't want the surgery. I know what comes with it... I rather be like this than lose my feelings for them." You said blankly, Alphys looking from you to Sans again. Who was now angered again, hands balled into a fist. "Then tell them! I'm sure they're going to love ya back. They have'ta!" he spat, shaking his skull. You couldn't reply at first, you just softly sobbed to yourself, before taking a deep breath and collecting yourself. "It wont matter if I tell them. They wont feel the same." You weak mutters just fueling his anger more, as he finally had enough, he closed the rest of the space between you both, gripping the bed rails. Alphys reached out to stop him, but simply let him get it out, noticing Papyrus keeping a close eye on him. "Why the hell wouldn't they? Ya great! I should know, I spend almost every day with you!" Alphys blinked and looked at him for a moment. "Sans.. You've been around them a lot lately right?" Sans snapped his head to look at her. "It's what I just said, innit?" Alphys shifted her gaze to you again. "When you met them.... Did they look this sick?" You winced, you knew she had figured it out. Red was staring at you now, you could feel it, his sockets scanned you, before turning back to Alphys. "N...No, I don't think they did.. They had a lot more colla to them." Alphis nodded and looked to again, Red's gaze trailing back to you, his boney fingers still wrapped around the bars of your bed. "Is it a monster? Is that why ya don't think they will like ya? Y/N, monsters fall for humans all the time, you

really-" Sans was cut off by the bellowing of his older brother, causing all three of them to jump and instantly give him their attention. "Sans, you absolute moron." Sans gulped nervously, loosing his grip on the bed, as his brother continued. "It's you they like, how can you be so dense? I saw this ages ago" His eyelights rolled in his skull, as though he had just made another pun. Sans just stared at him, jaw slack, his large frame rumbled from the laughter he let out. "Come on Boss, it's a good joke, but this is serious." He shifted his skull back to look at you. "There's no way someone like them-" He stopped, your eyes were wide, and you face was flushed, and he realized just how pale you've gotten from this sickness. He blinked softly for a moment before letting out a panicked grunt, leaning over the bars, a foot from your face. "Yer fucking joking? T..." His skull flushed a bright cherry candy red, his eyelight finally appearing again for the first time since you passed out, they seemed to vibrate softly, flickering as they scanned you. You couldn't stand to look at him anymore, you felt destroyed, you were going to get rejected in front of everyone and slowly rot away. But instead you were surprised when you felt him clambering over the rails, into the bed with you, spooking both you and Alphys "S.Sans! Careful with them-" She blubbered as he managed to nestle his large frame, mostly sitting on the railing. His grin was larger than you've ever seen, his eyelights looked almost like they had turned heart shaped, and he was giggling like a dork. You scanned him, as you scooted in your bed to make space for the large skeleton monster. "Yer as big of a moron as me I guess, because I liked ya for a while too." He finally, said with another giggle. Your eyes went wide, and you suddenly felt dizzy, actually too dizzy, the room spun as you put a hand to your forehead, leaning back with a huff. Sans jumped again, trying to back away to give you space. "Fuck! Sorry uh.." Sans muttered, and Alphys simply snickered and walked over to the free side of the bed that didn't have a bone boy perched on it. Softly fanning you with her clipboard. "It's okay Sans, it's the blood flow coming back to them. They shouldn't be showing anymore signs of the illness in the next 24 hours." Sans beamed at you, watching the color come back to your face slowly. "Guess I'm ya new medication hun. Take as needed." He snicked and slumped into the bed beside you, pulling you to his lap. You sunk into his large frame like a bean bag. You had no idea how it happened, but you were fine with the out come. "Dork.." You muttered as you snuggled into his chest.

[pedros-mustache]

clandestine

summary: some things are best kept in secret.

word count: 3k+

warnings: smut (18+ only!): unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), slight dirty talk, hand over mouth at least once. also: age gap (reader is legal but no specific ages are stated), language, x fem!reader.

a/n: uh—this is relatively unedited and i’m unsure about the ending, but what are you gonna do? it’s also my first smut piece and i am very anxious about it. please be kind.

as is wont with most affairs of the heart, your interest in the surly mercenary begins as a slow simmer. 

he strikes you as unique the first time you lay eyes on his wide shoulders and bronzed skin. he stands in the manor courtyard, muted clothing and worn chainmail so different from his fanciful counterparts. though they have been hired to secure and protect the castle in anticipation of the king’s arrival during the spring festivals, he alone does not spruce his protective gear or tie a brightly colored ribbon around his upper-arm to signal his country of origin. he is simply there: a gray, brooding cloud amidst vibrant, high-flying kites.

you think that’s what interests you the most in the beginning.

there’s something unattainable about him from the very start. he is decidedly removed from it all: the joy of winter leaving at long last, the frenzied preparation for the week of festivals in two months’ time, the slowly encroaching haze of desire that pervades the manor and its inhabitants. while other mercenaries flirt endlessly and take the opportunity to relax before the truly wealthy and powerful arrive, he stands at his guard with a placid face. he does not so much as move a muscle when you do toss a curious glance over your shoulder as you pass him by. he simply… looks on.

he eats with abandon, as though worried one of his fellow sellswords will steal from beneath his nose. from your place at the high table in the great hall, you study his movements and the shift of his eyes. he does not appear nervous. no, he is too confident for that. he’s possessive of his time, his food, his belongings.

your sister discovers his name is tovar—pero tovar, a spanaird recently returned from the far east. she tells you the other men find him too grumpy and too arrogant for their own liking, and before you can question her further, she confesses her curiosity about another mercenary who makes her heart tremble with delight. several years older, it is the first time your sister confesses anything to you of great worth, and you spend the night buried beneath her covers, giggling and dreaming and hoping for her future.

still, when she finally falls asleep, you stare at the ceiling and wonder what sours tovar’s mood. like your sister is affected by her suitor, you are affected by tovar, though he is far from your suitor. he is just a phantom in the back of your mind, ever-present and mysterious. he’s nothing more than that.

yet the first time you hear him speak you feel your chest tighten.

he, as well as the other sellswords, have walked the manor halls for a fortnight, and he has plagued your thoughts for just as long. in all that time and in all your carefully arranged moments of passing, you have not heard him utter a word. he is silent as the grave, as gray and seemingly lifeless as one too.

but then, when you cross the courtyard one afternoon and richard, the pox-ridden son of your father’s dearest advisor, says something lewd in your direction, tovar comes to life.

he steps away from his post by the manor steps. it’s a single step, but it stops you dead in your tracks. he clutches the pommel of his sword and lays an unyielding stare on richard. “watch your tongue, chico,” he drawls.

and that is it. he says nothing more, merely waits for richard to scurry away, tail between his legs, before returning to his post.

for your part, you gape at him. you do not know what to say, how to respond, other than blink in stunned silence. his voice is deep, a rumble in his chest, accented with something unfamiliar but nonetheless sweet to the ears. you want to hear him speak again and again and again until you drip like spilled honey.

he looks at you, then, and your face feels as hot with hellfire. your thoughts are no different—especially when he looks you over, a long glance from the crest of your head to the satin of your slippers. the leather of his glove creaks as he tightens his hold on the sword pommel.

“go on, hermosa,” he says, his tone clipped with something akin to frustration.

you obey and lose yourself to the tasks of the day.

still, he remains in the back of your mind like a specter, and you resolve to keep him that way as the days pass. the festival draws closer, anticipation of the king’s arrival sending the manor into anxious exuberance. you nearly forget him, about the way his voice and his glance quickened your heart, as your mother gives you task after task and your sister spends her evenings waxing romantic about her paramour.

but then as you slip out of your sister’s room late one night, you see him in the hall, and you remember it all, and your gut twists.

it is dark. the moon hangs high in the sky, spilling its light on the stone floor of the outer hall. it casts a glow around tovar, something that makes him appear more angelic than you think he is. perhaps that’s what drives you forward. how can someone shrouded in such light be anything but a godsend?

you speak his name when you reach his side, but you imagine he already knows you’re there. still, his name feels right falling from between your lips, and you say it again when he does not immediately respond.

“tovar?”

he swivels his head to face you. moonlight catches on his faded armor and smooths the rough scar above his eye.  

he kisses you before you can react, his mouth harsh against yours. it is a shock, but not an unwelcome one. you have dreamed of this—of more than this—since you first saw him, and to feel him against you now is ecstasy itself. until, of course, he brings you to new heights of pleasure in that very hall, beneath the moon, shrouded in darkness.

he is firm, but he is not rough, and he truly does not say much. you don’t need him to, you suppose. it’s enough to feel his hands roam your clothed body, his thick length slip in and out of your dripping core. his breathy moans shuddered against your neck sound like prayers, and you squeeze yourself around him when he mutters something in his native tongue as you find your release. he is not far behind, and he removes himself quick enough to spill his seed on the dirty floor.

then he tucks himself back in his trousers and pulls you from the ledge on which he’d taken you. you glance over your shoulder into the courtyard below and wonder if anyone had heard or seen two bodies tumbling together in the cover of night. your legs wobble beneath you, and he grips your hip to hold you steady. his eyes roam your face before he lifts a hand to cradle your cheek. it is such an intimate gesture after a chaotic embrace that you feel your gut twist again.

“go to bed, hermosa,” he whispers. “i will find you on the morrow.”

he kisses you—softly, sweetly, like a husband might his wife—and it ignites desire in you all over again.

dizzy with emotion, you obey him once more and go to bed.

***

it continues—quick fucks in the dark of night or in empty rooms or hay-filled stables—as the days progress and the festivals draw closer.

at first, you do not speak. words seem superfluous when your bodies can do the communicating. he alternates between gentle and soft some days to stern and commanding some nights. he shows you things, does things to you, that the stable boys you’ve run with before could never emulate even in their wildest dreams. he is all-consuming, an itch you find you must scratch whenever you get the chance.

no one can know, of course, that you have all but pledged your heart to the sullen mercenary. your father would never approve. it took all your sister’s will-power to convince him of her own genial and steady paramour. tovar is steady, yes, but hardly the amiable sort, and his is older by a fair many years. if you were to hazard a guess, he might be closer in age to your father than you. that would not sit well with your father; you know that without bringing the idea of your match with tovar forward.

besides, you aren’t sure if tovar wants you for more than you are now. though with each passing day your heart winds itself tighter around him like a vine, he has sworn no fidelity to you. in fact, there are times you are surprised he even remembers your name.

but it doesn’t matter. not when he feels so good and tastes so good and—

you will be content with what he gives you until his time in the manor is complete and he must move on.

to your great delight, as the king’s arrival draws nearer, you find your stolen moments with tovar grow deeper than simple carnal pleasure. he talks more, telling you stories of his long years wandering the wide world. he recounts the story of his many scars as he connects the dots littering your naked flesh. he brings you a trinket he saw in the marketplace that made him think of you and wonder what the pearls would look like nestled in your hair.

you think, on some level, he must care for you. at least, he’s grown to care for you. while he may not wear his affection for you like a badge on his chest, you can tell that there is something that keeps him coming back to your side. it’s in the way his head turns to watch as you walk by and the way his eyes find yours over the crowded great hall at meal time and the way he murmurs sweet nothings in your ear as he takes you by the firelight.

who would have thought—a highborn girl, barely a woman, and a grumpy goose of a spaniard?

on the first day of the spring festival, you don a virginal white gown, soft against your freshly washed skin, and decorate your head with a crown of wildflowers before departing to the festival grounds. it is customary to forego shoes in honor of the earth’s rebirth, and you find the soil beneath your feet chilly compared to the rest of your warm body. you laugh and dance along with your sister and other manor guests, twirling brightly colored ribbons over your head.

you catch sight of tovar several times throughout the day. he guards one of the king’s inner-circle and does not appear all too pleased by the post. of course, what does please tovar is illusive even to you.

he dips his head in acknowledgement when you grin at him from across the meadow. a friend whispers something devilish in your ear about his scar, and you dissolve into giggles, your stare still trained on his unmoving face. perhaps the mulled wine you’ve consumed throughout the day has made you giddy, but, really, the bright spring sun and warm air and smiles all around thaws the winter lingering in your bones. hearing your friend wonder about the size of tovar’s… other amenities as compared to his scar just somehow makes the day better.

he catches you—literally—by surprise late in the afternoon.

everyone is distracted by the king versing your father in a game of lawn bowls deep in the meadow. you hover by the refreshment table adjacent to tover’s post, deep in conversation with your cousin over the merits of satin hair ribbons. when your cousin rises to tour the stables, you rise too—

—and find yourself hauled by the wrist into a hidden alcove, tucked away from prying eyes and listening ears.

tovar’s lips are on yours, his tongue licking into your mouth the moment you grant him access. with a muffled grunt, he lifts you by the backs of the thighs and pushes you further into the alcove. instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist, drawing him closer as you wind your arms around his neck and deepen the kiss. the cool stone wall supporting your back feels firm while your limbs turn to gelatin under tovar’s attention.

“pero,” you breathe, dragging your lips from his to suck in a deep breath. “pero?”

“uh?” he draws back slightly, and if your eyes are as hooded with desire as his are, you are both doomed. “what is it?”

“someone will hear.”

“not if you keep your pretty mouth shut.” he latches onto your mouth again, and you sigh into the kiss, losing yourself to the feeling.

not a moment later, you feel him ruck your skirts up and around your hips. a rush of air tingles against your exposed thighs, and the dull throbbing between your legs ratchets to a painful ache. you wiggle your hips against his, searching for some form of relief. that blessed relief comes when tovar presses his thumb against your clothed clit. you whimper, the pressure both a blessing and a curse. though there is relief, you need more before you will burst at the seams.

“do you know how beautiful you are, cariño?” tovar’s words are hot on your throat, and you tilt your head back to allow him better access to your skin. “i don’t think you do.”

he moves his thumb in a slow circle, and you see stars.

“i watch you day in and day out, and you are so—” he grunts when your hips jerk forward. “dios mio, i would be happy to watch you forever in whatever you do. you are kind and gentle and i want to watch you—” he shakes his head, cutting himself off. “fuck.”

“pero, please.”

his eyes flick up. “what is it you want? tell me.”

you moan, and the sound echoes in the alcove. “please,” your murmur. “please.”

you’re sweating, sticky with desire between your legs and perspiration on your brow. words evade you as tovar continues his slow assault on your core, one long finger dipping down to run through your folds. you cry out at the touch, and he rushes to remove his hand and clamp it over your mouth.

“hush,” he says—and you think you hear a laugh on the edge of his voice. “do you want the king to find us?”

you scrabble for purchase on his shoulders, moving your hips against the bulge in his trousers. “if it will get your cock inside me, yes.”

“fuck.” tovar’s hands cannot move fast enough, so you aid him until he is freed from his trousers. he slides into you in one easy thrust, and you throw your head back with a wanton moan.

“oh mother mary,” you groan.

tovar chuckles at this. “i do not know if that is the type of call mariá is accustomed to answering, hermosa.”

he fucks you hard, then, his hips pistoning into yours. the wall behind you grates against your spine, but it doesn’t matter. tovar practically splits you open, and you can feel it all—every ridge and shudder and breath against the side of your face. you bite down on his shoulder, leather and all, to keep from screaming his name. tears prick the corner of your eyes, and you find your undoing when he returns his thumb to your clit.

“wh-where?” he mutters. “i cannot hold on—”

you silence him with a messy kiss, slanting your lips over his. “i’m yours, tovar,” you say, the words tumbling from your mouth before you can stop them. “mark me.”

without hesitation, he paints the inside of you with his seed, his body tight against you as he comes.

after a moment, he releases his hold on your hips, and you slide to your feet. your joints feel stiff from clenching every part of him so tightly, and the evidence of your tryst trickles down the side of your leg as you straighten your skewed clothing.

“hermosa?” his gentle voice pauses your efforts to appear less rumpled. you look up and find him staring openly, softly, at you. again, he lifts a hand to touch your cheek. “you cannot be mine. you—you deserve someone much more than me.”

“that is silliness, pero,” you say.

“but—”

shaking your head, you grab his hand. “i will hear no more on the matter. it is you i adore, and so long as you will have me, i will be by your side.”

he shakes his head, looks away.

heart lurching, you mirror his action and take ahold of his cheek. you rub your thumb over the hair peppering his jaw. “sweet pero, perhaps it is i who does not deserve you?”

he swallows hard then presses his forehead to yours. “you are… remarkable.”

“and you are one damn good fuck.”

at this, pero laughs. it is the first genuine laugh you have heard him utter, and it sends your heart bursting into one thousand butterflies. you grin, watching the delight break his face into a wide grin. when he has regained his composure, he nods to the festivities outside.

“we should return before they miss you.”

“pero?”

he turns at the exit of the alcove, his hand still clinging to yours. “hm?”

“one day—” you steady yourself, straighten your shoulders, and face him head on. “one day i want to tell my father about us. i want him to know. i want them all to know.”

pero blinks then adjusts to your words by stepping forward and sweeping his arms around the small of your back. he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “one day, chiquita. one day you will have that and all that you wish.”

“i wish only for you.”

“then you don’t wish for much.”

drawing back, you kiss him softly—as a wife might her husband. “for me, it is enough.”

a round of excited cheers and applause from the meadow breaks the moment, and pero releases his hold on you. he nods to the party. “come, hermosa,” he says. “for now, i will be your secret and you will be mine. but one day… one day…”

he shakes his head, and his words trail off, his eyes wistful.

you understand him clearly, though.

it might not be tomorrow or the next day or even next year. but you are content to wait. if he cares for you as he seems to, if he is willing to wait for the world to soften and ease, one day your clandestine meetings will be clandestine no longer. until then, alcoves and unfurnished bedrooms will have to do.

but who are you to complain?

***

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