#thread: A heart to heart... with waffles

[therooftopsofketterdam]

While Inej would muffle her movements and was able to be as silent as still, winter snow, she had no intention of hiding her presence from Nina. Tiredness settled in her bones and made her feel heavier then she actually was. Pain made it hard to focus on any part of her body besides that and while gravity had not forsaken her yet it might soon come to it. She needed to get this wound taken care off.

Nina was the obvious choice, the only choice really. Inej would trust her with my life and still, an incling of fear made her pull her tunic close.

"The Barrel never sleeps and Kaz had a job that needed to get done." It wasn't an entire lie. Inej had spent countless nights in the shadows, spying, curating knowledge and stealing secrets, sometimes even stealing actual things, but she didn't want Nina to worry about anymore things then whatever caused her to seek out the kitchen and prepare food.

The acrobat stood at the heart renders shoulder, quietly watching the repetitive movement and familiar thunk of filled dough being tossed into an oiled and floured bowl. Inej wondered if her mother still made Plemeni. For her father and cousins and uncle and aunt. She'd always made them for special occasions as they were harder to prepare on the road... Inej's stomach grumbled in a demand for nutrients.

"People say Kaz is ruthless but I feel like they ignore your talent for bribery." She sighed, but smiled, there was no arguing with her friend. She pulled back the folds of her tunic and revealed her undershirt that had spots of crimson blooming upon it. She was bleeding through her bandage below. A few suli words left her lips. A curse to whatever force drove that mishap.

"Rotty and I got jumped a few days ago. Black tips. They thought they had taken some cuts from fifth harbour territory for themselves. They are dead now. One got me."

In the early hours of the morning, Inej left her little kingdom above the roofs of the Barrel. She should sleep, she knew. She should eat or rest or do anything else then think about Tante Heleen, but she couldn't help herself.

As she rose, a sharp pain shocked through the upper left side of her torso, where her ribs ended and abdomen began. A stray knife had cut straight through her tunic and undershirt, knicking skin and drawing blood. She patched it up, but apparently her latest job for Kaz Brekker caused the wound to tear open again. "Saints..." Inej hisses as it hurt more then the days before combined.

She carefully lowered herself down the wall, her fingers finding familiar nooks and crannies to hold on to blind and in the dark. Still. Her body was working harder then usual to make up with strength for what Inej usually did with smart maneuvering. The jabs of pain dulled her other senses... And she was endlessly tired. Before she could slip, the acrobat slit open a window and let herself in. Quiet feet soundlessly touching the crooked floorboards. What she hadn't expected was to find her friend here.

"Isn't it a little early for stress baking?" She asked, curiously but a little breathless, as Nina continued with her work. Inej knew these little dumplings. They were a Ravkan specialty. The last time she'd seen any of these was at a harvest festival in Os Kervo. Before she got captured and sold.

"I didn't know you knew how to make those." Inej said, her voice softer now as she stepped closer towards her friend.

[erthshaker]

tag drop

[streetlamp-amber]

can we just stay in bed? (18+)

bruce wayne x femwife!reader

word count: 2.8k | divider by @cafekitsune | requests are open!

CW: smut (MDNI), p in v sex, oral (fem receiving), soft sex NOTES: i usually don’t write soft smut like this so i don’t really know if i’m 100% satisfied with this or not but i still wanted to share, let me know your thoughts :)

The joyful singing of the birds in the forest surrounding Wayne Manor could be heard from miles away as the sun was rising over the treetops, marking the beginning of a new day in Gotham. A lone ray of sunshine made its way through the gap between the two curtains hung over the window of you and Bruce's bedroom, illuminating the darkness with a soft golden glow.

Today was Saturday, meaning you didn't have work waiting for you or school to drive Dick and Jason to. The only plan on the schedule this morning was to sleep in, even for Alfred.

But your husband had other plans.

Bruce woke up on his own, his body was now used to being up early to make sure the boys had completed all of their homework before dropping them off at school. He was laying on his back with your head nestled in the crook of his neck, your hot breath fanning over his skin at a gentle rhythm while your arm and leg were hooked around him, keeping your body flushed against his. A grateful, satisfied smile formed on Bruce’s lips as he hugged you closer to him and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. He loved waking up with you in his arms, it was his favourite part of the day – when all his worries about Gotham were still dormant in the back of his mind, when he could bask in the peacefulness of the morning with your steady breathing reminding him how lucky he was that you were so much of a hothead, you had him pull over on the side of the road to reprimand his reckless driving when he almost rear ended your car. He remembered that day like it was yesterday, because your anger and your indifference to his celebrity status had already caught his heart right then and there, the fact that you were breathtakingly beautiful was only a plus. Six years had passed since then and Bruce had tried his best to remain on your good side in that time, but it happened sometimes that you let out your anger on him – like when he let Dick patrol with him for the first time. He found that he was still as captivated and enamoured with you as he was when the two of you first met, you’re just so hot when you’re angry, he can’t help it.

Overcome with the love he held for you, Bruce started peppering soft, barely-there kisses on your cheek, your nose, your jaw and your neck, moving you to lay on your back as he did so for him to have better access to your skin. His gentle touches pulled you out of your slumber and you stretched out your limbs, your husband never relenting with his affections.

“Good morning, my love,” Bruce whispered in between kisses on your throat.

You giggled, the softness of his lips tickling you. “Good morning,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck while his held you tight under your back. You turned your head to glance at the digital clock on your bedside table, noticing the time displayed in red light. “Isn’t it too early to be awake on a Saturday morning?”

“What time is it?” Bruce asked as he comfortably laid on you, his face now resting in the crook of your neck.

“Ten past seven,” you answered, your hands finding their way to your husband’s hair. Your fingers threaded through his soft waves and you felt him hum in satisfaction against you.

“I’m not sleepy anymore,” he weakly argued, eyes closing as your scent comforted him.

“Bruce, I can literally feel your breathing slowing down like it does when you fall asleep,” you chuckled.

“Then we should do something to stay awake and enjoy these minutes of peace we have that are oh so rare,” Bruce suggested with an impish tone.

“Mhm,” you hummed in agreement, “we haven't made blueberry waffles in quite some time.”

Bruce rolled his eyes and stood up above you, trapping you under his body with his elbows resting on both sides of your head. “Can we just stay in bed?” He asked, his crooked grin on his lips as he leaned down, brushing the tip of your nose with his.

“And do what?” You feigned innocence, but your husband knew you too well – he had known you for more than six years after all, he liked to think he knew you more than he knew himself – and the mischievousness in your eyes didn't go past him.

“I have a few ideas in mind,” Bruce said before claiming your lips with his. You breathed a sigh of relief that he absorbed and he placed himself in between your legs.

He stood up after a minute for the both of you to get some air and teasingly tugged at the hem of your shirt (which really was one of his old Princeton shirts from his university days). “I think it's not fair I’m the only one who's bare chest,” he said, raising the shirt just above your bellybutton.

“I think you make a compelling argument, Mr. Wayne,” you playfully agreed then removed said shirt, throwing it on the floor.

Bruce didn’t waste any second, immediately peppering your chest with kisses the moment your skin was freed from your clothes. You relaxed into your pillow, enjoying the attention your husband was giving to every inch of your body. He took his time to savour your taste and you let him. There was no rushing this morning, only the two of you in your bubble of love where time and the outside world didn’t exist.

He nipped his teeth all over your chest, leaving soft bite marks in his trail, and sucked on your nipples, his hand massaging your boob his mouth wasn’t currently attached to.

“Bruce…” You mewled after he spent five minutes on each of your breasts, only now beginning his slow descent down your stomach. Ten minutes of working you up had you now very impatient and wanting for more.

“Patience, my love,” Bruce said against your skin, getting closer to where you needed him most. “We’re taking it slow this morning, we’ve got all the time in the world.”

“Mmm, I know of two certain boys who will be knocking at our door in less than an hour to see if you’re awake so you can watch the morning cartoons with them,” you argued, raising up your hips when he started leaving kisses on the inside of your right thigh.

“That won’t be a problem,” your husband reassured you before claiming your clit in his mouth, making you squeal in surprise. “Good thing I had the walls of our bedroom soundproofed,” he paused his sucking on your bundle of nerves to tease you with a grin on his shiny lips.

You glared at him, unamused, which made him chuckle at your cute face and he quickly kissed your thigh before going back to his previous task. He lapped the slick in between your folds like a man who had spent fourteen days in the desert and was drinking water for the first time. His tongue teased your entrance before diving in, grunting in pleasure when your hips bucked up closer to him, making his nose brush against your clit. Bruce could never get tired of you, of your taste, of the sounds you made because of him. It spurred him on and for the time being, his only purpose in life was to satisfy you.

He couldn’t even begin to explain the control you had over him, the way you guided him through this life like a lighthouse in a storm. He was putty in your hands, has been ever since the two of you met, and he knew very well how lost he would be without you. Yeah, he would be financially secured thanks to his family, but in every other aspect of his life, even as Batman, he wouldn’t be who he was today without you. And Bruce, who had never really been good at vocally expressing his feelings, would let you know how thankful he was to have you in his life the way he knew best: by pleasuring you to completion like no other person ever has before because no one has taken the time to learn every single reaction of your body like he had.

“Bruce…” you whined as your hand tugged at his hair. You needed more, you needed more than just his tongue inside of you so you pulled him up by the head, bringing him to your level, and attached your lips to his, tasting yourself on him, while your legs wound around his waist. You felt his hard cock brushing against your center through the fabric of his boxers and jolted at the slight pressure applied on your clitoris.

The two of you slowly and messily made out, Bruce’s right hand holding your cheek and his left one clutching onto your hip. Your hands had found their way to the waistband of his boxers, trying to pull them down to get what you wanted. Bruce helped you, his left hand leaving your hip to remove the only item of clothing still on, his mouth never detaching from yours as he did so.

Once fully nude, Bruce retracted from you, standing on his knees before dipping his fingers between your folds to gather some of your wetness and rub it over his dick. You watched him with anticipation, the sight before you something you could never get tired of. Your husband was straight out of a dream and, still to this day, you’d pinch yourself sometimes to make sure you were awake, that this was your life.

That somehow, Bruce Wayne fell in love with you.

But he was also so different from how he presented himself to the media, to the public, that sometimes you forgot you married the Bruce Wayne, heir to the powerful Wayne family, prince of Gotham. To you, he was just your silly husband who was incredibly hot and put everybody else before him.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when Bruce brushed the tip of his cock against the lips of your pussy. “I hope I’m not too much of a bore, darling,” he said, a teasing undertone lacing his words.

“No, just admiring the view and how lucky I am that my husband is so damn hot,” you replied playfully though there were no lies to your answer.

“Clearly you haven’t looked at yourself in the mirror lately babe because I’m the lucky one,” Bruce told you, his eyes confidently holding yours to show how truthful he was. He lined himself with your entrance, his stare never leaving your face so that he could drink in your expressions when he sheathed himself to the hilt inside you.

The two of you groaned in pleasure and Bruce took a moment to bask in your warmth, his eyes roaming all over you.

“Especially when you look so goddamn gorgeous with my cock inside you,” he added onto his previous comment, making you roll your eyes at the machoness of his words.

“Shut up and start moving already,” you chuckled.

“As you wish, my darling,” he leaned down to kiss you again and started rolling his hips to a slow, steady pace.

You wrapped your legs around his waist again while your hands found their place at his nape, scratching his scalp and tugging his hair, making him moan in your mouth. Your tongues danced to the same rhythm as Bruce’s thrusts, the both of you drowning in the feeling of the other.

Sex with Bruce was usually more rapid, more frantic, more bruising, more fiery, and you loved it. You loved how he could make you forget about the gala happening right down the hallway and the handprints he’d unconsciously leave on your hips from his grip. But you also loved when sex with Bruce was languid with no hurry. When one made you forget everything, the other basked you in love and made you feel like you were in a dream.

Bruce’s mouth left yours to trail down your cheek, then your jaw, until it found its place in the crook of your neck. He deposited open mouthed kisses all over your skin, licking it and leaving small nips on it. He easily found the pulse point behind your ear and, knowing you could easily hide that spot, started sucking on it and doubled the pleasure building inside you.

It made your breath hitch and your nails dig in his back muscles, leaving small red crescents on his skin. You felt him smile against your skin, his pride always swelled up to the reactions he was able to pull out of you.

“Mph, you feel so good darling,” Bruce groaned in your ear and kissed it. “You always do.”

“And you make me feel so good baby,” you answered, squeezing your walls around him as you said so.

Bruce’s head appeared in your eyeline again, his famous grin on his lips as his eyes roamed over your face, full of love. “I love you,” he told you.

You were about to say ‘I love you’ back but he didn’t let you, claiming your mouth with his instead to drag you in another make out session. He changed the angle of his hips at the same time and the tip of his dick brushed your G-spot, making you mewl. Bruce’s left hand fell down to the back of your right thigh, gripping it tight as he held it a little higher. It allowed him to go about one more inch further, said spot now being hit with every thrust.

“Oh God, yes,” you freed your mouth from his as your head fell back, your eyes squeezing shut due to the pleasure gradually overtaking your senses.

“Look at me, darling,” Bruce asked you and you obeyed, struggling to keep your eyes open as the two of you held eye contact. “Are you close?”

He knew you were, he knew your body like the back of his hand, but he still asked you the question just to be sure.

You couldn’t answer him. Your mouth was in a permanent ‘o’ shape as breathy moans escaped your lips with every thrust and you were unable to focus for more than one second on how to speak. So you nodded your head yes.

Bruce’s hand that held your thigh let it go to instead dip between your legs, easily finding your clit and rubbing it in circles with just the right amount of pressure. He proudly watched as you unravelled beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with full force. As he helped you ride it out, he reached his own climax and fell over you, but still made sure to not put his entire weight on you, as the two of you caught your breath.

Your husband removed himself from inside you and rolled over to lay next to you on his side so he could face you. “I love you,” he said again, kissing your temple covered with a sheen of sweat.

You turned to face him, your hand reaching to hold his cheek as you replied, “I love you”. You kissed him on the lips, this time short and sweet, and Bruce laid on his back so you could snuggle up against him with your head on his chest.

“You know, we should wash up before the boys come knocking on our door,” you said after a few minutes of peace.

“Can we just stay in bed for another minute?” Bruce childishly whined, his fingers brushing up and down your bare bicep.

“You're such a big baby,” you teased him, chuckling.

“Well sorry I’m a little spent from our early morning activity,” he lightheartedly argued.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal,” you said, rising on your elbows to look over him. “I’m going to the bathroom and I’ll bring back with me a wet cloth for you to wash yourself and then we can cuddle and maybe go back to sleep until Dick and Jason crash through the door to drag you downstairs and watch cartoons. Sounds like a deal?”

“Sounds like a really good deal to me,” Bruce answered, bringing you down to peck your lips before he rested his hands behind his head. “You should come down to the tower next time we’re looking to make a deal with another company.”

“Nah, I’m perfectly fine with leaving all that work to you,” you pecked his lips once again and stood up from the bed, not bothering to cover yourself up. “I’ll be right back,” you said behind your shoulder as you walked towards the bathroom connected to your room.

Bruce didn’t hear you, too preoccupied with staring at your ass to focus on anything else. God, I’m the luckiest man in all of Gotham, he thought to himself before you disappeared through the door frame.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2024 - day 12

yennskier post-s2 yucky tender gooiness

Having grown unexpectedly close in the winter spent at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer comes to a realization while in bed one morning with Jaskier.

That morning, Yennefer wakes to the sunrise warming the cold stone walls. The wind whistles through the narrow windows and the dingy old keep creaks and settles, but her bed is piled in furs and she has no obligation to rise and there is a warm body burrowed down beside her, his cheek against her bare shoulder.

Jaskier twitches in sleep, mumbling incoherently, never wholly silent even while unconscious. His messy hair tickles her neck, grown long, and he’s drooling on her from the corner of his open mouth. 

Something about that makes Yennefer feel fond rather than disgusted. She wants to press her fingers back through his tangled hair and kiss him awake, wants to push down the furs to reveal more of his body, her other hand stealing down through the dark hair on his belly. 

She wants to let him sleep a while longer, knowing that lately he’s been plagued by nightmares and bouts of insomnia after everything that happened the past months. He passes off the sleeplessness as bouts of creative fervor, staying up in Kaer Morhen’s dusty library writing drivel in his songbook. Most nights, she stays up with him, offering droll commentary and scathing critique. 

More than once, she’s dozed off in a high-backed chair in the library and woken to found that he’s carried her to bed, wrapped around her with his lips against her neck.

She spends most days in his company, both of them unclear where else they're meant to fit in the keep. The Witchers avoid her, Geralt won’t meet her eyes, and Ciri is curious and friendly enough but overly polite, never asking the questions she really wants to.

Yennefer suffers also nightmares, dark and churning and unspeakable, and every morning, she reaches to pull at a thread of chaos. Just to be certain that she still can.

Jaskier’s nightmares are often of fire and blood, shackled at the wrists while the flames climb the rafters overhead, broken fingers clawing at a locked door. Sometimes when Yennefer slips into his dreams to momentarily soothe them into something more pleasant, she sees herself with blood spilling down her slit wrists, feels the yawning fear that hollows his stomach. 

At present, his dreams are a fumble of disjointed images, some erotic and some comical with a bizarre overlap between the two. He mumbles something about sphincters and then ducks and his brows furrow, and Yennefer feels a strong and alarming surge of irrational affection for this ridiculous man sleeping beside. 

It makes little sense for the realization to come at that moment. That she loves him. Has fallen in love with him. Despite all his varied flaws or perhaps because of them. His simple, unfettered humanity. His baffling aesthetic choices. His constant whining and waffling. His heart, deep and compassionate and always aching a little. His cheeky lewd stupidity and his sincere and cliched candor.

Yennefer loves him.

It’s an unpleasant feeling, rising like acid reflux, because of course, realizing how she feels changes nothing. 

Jaskier couldn’t possibly love her back, not after everything, not being who they are. They’ve tumbled into this arrangement out of circumstance, leaning on each other for comfort and warmth through the long winter on the mountain, but this certainly isn’t his first choice. She’s seen his more pleasant dreams. The ones that span years with Geralt before she met either of them, the achey familiarity of years-long yearning fulfilled, all the right words said, all the old hurts soothed.

And if not Geralt, given the choice of any number of bedpartners across the Continent, would Jaskier ever possibly choose to wake beside her most mornings, the way she’d like to wake beside him.

The truth is that Yennefer is an afterthought, an unexpected pleasure that he’ll indulge in until spring, and then their paths will draw apart, and the cold isolation of her long and lonely life will sink back in again.

Jaskier wakes with his usual suddenness, snorting an interrupted breath, eyes blinking open as he scrunches up his whole face against the light. 

“Heh? Hughhg?” he grunts incoherently and then immediately begins to chatter. “Did I sleep in? Have we missed breakfast? Not missing much I suppose but– I just had the strangest dream about these massive waterfowl on a beautiful lake, and not gonna lie it got me going a-- Eh? Yennefer, why d’you look like that?”

“I don’t look like anything,” she says and rolls away from him, not wanting to know what face she’d been making as he woke.

Jaskier takes the opportunity to sling an arm around her waist and press his warm chest to her back, tangling their legs together as he kisses her shoulder. Not long ago, she may have balked at such open presumption that she would welcome his smothering embrace, but she does welcome it, she craves it. She turns her head to let him kiss her on the mouth, and he rolls his hips in a slow grind against her backside.

“You are not fucking me while thinking about large ducks,” she groans against his lips, feeling his very foolish thoughts pressed into her mind.

“It’s– they were alarmingly erotic!”

“Think about something else,” says Yennefer, and though she doesn’t usually like to impose herself so completely into another’s mind, wary of what she’ll find there, she allows her vulnerable fears to guide her into his thoughts.

Jaskier is thinking about the softness of her hair against his cheek, the scent of her, the sleep-warm feel of her body against his. He thinks how he’d like to wake every morning like this, how it would be enough just to hold her in his arms, to let his arousal fade to distant noise as he noses at her neck.

She hitches up a leg and reaches behind her to grip his hip and draw him to enter her, and his thoughts erupt in a slew of praises, not just for the heat of her cunt but for her raw and visceral beauty, her sharp edges, her pain, her desperate kindness. 

Yennefer feels small as his thoughts wash over her, battered by waves of longing, desire, and through it all a current of she can’t possibly feel this strongly toward little old me.

Idiots, both of them.

“Yen?” Jaskier asks, voice unsteady with alarm, and she realizes that she’s weeping, hot tears rolling to tremble on the ridge of her nose.

“I’m in love with you, you absolute fool,” says Yennefer and immediately wants to hide her burning, tear-streaked face in the pillows and pretend she hadn’t blurted that confession out so simply. 

Jaskier’s hips still.

“Really? Me?”

“No, I enjoy embarrassing myself and lying,” she says, frustrated. “Yes, you.”

“Oh.” An absent hand trails down her belly and back up. Lips mouth against the back of her neck. He resumes rocking up into her body with shallow rolls of his hips. “So would you call this love-making then? Given that I love you back, you wretched witch.”

His voice is hideously fond, his touch gentle, his thoughts a rush of warm elation.

“Call it whatever you’d like,” she says, hoping that he ignores how her voice breaks. She lets a hand fall on his backside with a smack. “Just get on with it.”

Jaskier proceeds to do so for the rest of the morning, brimming with giddy energy, all thoughts of nightmares forgotten by the both of them.

[allisluv]

Hii can u do something with finnick with reader who is insecure about her looks so she stops eating? So he is very worried and gives her something? I'm sorry if it's something triggering, I just wanted to ask. Hope your doing ok girl love ya! ❤

feelings are not facts.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

summary: finnick notices when you stop eating.

word count: 600 words

content warnings: illusions to an eating disorder / disordered eating, a brief mention of weight, feeling insecure, finnick being sweet. please note that i am not trying to romanticise eating disorders and you are responsible for what media you choose to consume. please read with caution and put your mental health first!!

Finnick O’Dair notices the small things about you; like how your bottom lip trembles just before you’re about to cry or how you push around your food on your plate without really eating anything. 

It doesn’t worry him, not to begin with. At first, he just assumes you don’t have much of an appetite, but then he notices you skipping out on meals and staring at yourself for far too long in the mirror. 

Finnick has never been one for confrontation. It takes him weeks to gather up the nerve to voice his concerns.  

He lays awake for hours on end, tracing patterns down the slope of your shoulders and mulling over his words. Eventually, he drifts off and once he wakes up, your cold side of the bed is what prompts him to sleepily walk through the hallways of your shared home. 

He ventures farther into the kitchen, where he finds you curled up on the sofa in the living room, cradling a book as the television plays in the background. The sun shines through the open patio doors and your hair keeps getting caught in the breeze. 

Finnick flops down on the sofa, careful not to sit on your feet. You glance up at the shift in weight and offer him a weak smile as he leans over to press a kiss to your temple. “Hi honey. Have you eaten anything today?” 

His question catches you off guard and you can feel your eyebrows knitting together. “I– wait, what?” You splutter, abandoning your book altogether and setting it down onto the coffee table. You forgot to mark your page in your haste to brush him off. “Of course I’ve eaten!” you protest, pouting out your bottom lip like a child. 

Finnick can feel guilt eating away at the edges of his chest as he asks, “Honey, what did you have?” He threads his fingers through your hair and gently grips your chin between his finger and thumb, angling your head to get you to meet his eye. “I’m not mad at you, just worried, honey. You’ve not been eating much lately.”

For a split second, you consider crawling out of his lap and lying through your teeth, but it’s Finnick you’re talking to. It’s your Finnick. Your bottom lip trembles and you furiously blink away the tears gathering on your waterline. “I just… I hate the way I look, Finnick.” 

His heart shatters into shards of glass that stab through his ribcage. “What do you mean you hate the way you look, baby? You look beautiful.”

You hesitate. “I don’t feel it.” 

Finnick frowns, and rubs soothing circles down the skin of your hip-dips. “How about we do this, honey?” He makes sure you’re listening before he keeps going. “If you’re feeling insecure or upset or just having a bad day, come and find me; I’m willing to show you all day every day how beautiful I think you are. We’re gonna start small because I know this is gonna be hard for you; what’re you feeling like this morning?”

“I’m not hungry,” you insist, winding your arms around his neck as your stomach growls. Talk about bad timing. 

Finnick arches a teasing brow. “Nice try baby, but that’s not gonna work. How do waffles sound, hm?” 

You shrug your shoulders and thread your fingers through the golden locks of his hair. “I guess you could twist my arm.” The weight in your chest eases as he pecks your cheek and for the first time in weeks, you feel heaps better now that you know you’re not alone

[idontknowreallywhy]

Thanks to @ficwip for the questions. Thought I’d have a go to see where I’ve got up to / maybe motivate myself out of a writing slump.

Didn’t quite manage to get it done by end of year but I never do finish anything by NYE and consequently as a mid-January birthday girl I often decide to have my new year start a little later in the month anyway so…

Herewith waffle mostly written while trying not to nod off on a plane…

1. How many fics have you worked on since January?

Complicated question… I THINK - 28 in total?

In terms of what I’ve actually POSTED here…

10 one-shots [ How to Infuriate Your Engineer , The Last of Them , Comb , Pressure , Push , Shine , Expert , Thread , Scott is Not Fine , A Refrigeration Situation ] - 11,400 words total.

65 Chapters covering 10 fics [ Estera (3) ; Bearded (3) ; Presence (5) ; Composition (4) ; Resurface (36) ; Father’s Day (4) ; Teeth (2) ; 75 (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (2) ; An Eyebrow-Razing Incident (3) ] - 72,263 words total.

54 WIP Snippets which haven’t become finished chapters or one-shots yet covering 3 of the above and 8 other fics [ Blue (15) ; Estera (12) ; Burn it All (8) ; Snapshots (2) , Octopus House (4) ; Red (3) ; Fishtank-ed Up (3) ; In a Glass Darkly (1) ; Oort Cloud (3) ; Resurface (1) ; ?? (2) ] - 17,703 words total.

All that totals 101,366 tumblr-posted fic-words so I did hit my target of 100k although I didn’t actually FINISH as many stories as I intended to!

Then there is an additional 46,000 I have in draft for the Estera universe… some of which might make in into publishable form at some stage, some just for my own amusement 🤣 plus another 4,000 or so for other fics including the end of Resurface… and a couple of brand new ones which may or may not see the light of day…

So objectively I really did do a fair bit of writing this year and shall endeavour to allow myself to be proud of this!

2. What’s something new that you tried in a fic this year?

Err… Finishing one? 🤣

Did I though… um…

Ok scratch that.

I wrote a cheesy little song for one of them then threaded references to it through some chapters in a couple of fics. That was new. Whether successful? Well I like it but I can hear it in my head which probably makes it work better for me than anyone else. However I enjoyed myself so…

3. What piece of media inspired you the most? (This can be the fandom you wrote the most for, the one that spawned the most ideas, the one you thought about the most, etc.).

Well, my beloved Thunderbirds are Go, obviously! Hyperfixation much?

4. How many fandoms did you write for this year?

Just the one :)

5. What ships captured your heart?

Newly this year? I guess to interpret the word ‘captured’ literally to mean ‘possessed entirely against my will’ then I guess… Scott/Havoc (even though I still scream NOOOoOoOOoOOOOOO internally when I type that!). It’s not a natural fit for me as I do tend to favour some potential for a happy ending and it’s harder to see how it is possible with this ship but some fabulous fics have emerged on it. I do love a redemption arc though and I like how various people have developed Havoc’s character in their stories. But also still noooooooo my little guy deserves better-happier-uncomplicated. But also also yeeeeeesssssssss.

6. What characters captured your heart?

Weirdly, because I did not intend this at all and most of the time I want to slap him with a really large fish… I’ve written a fair bit of Jeff POV in the latter part of the year! Both pre-Lucy death and post-ZeroX. In between those times I still want to slap him with that fish.

7. Did you write for any new fandoms or ships this year?

A new ship, yes. And one that was completely unexpected and I don’t think anyone else has tried yet but I’m enjoying it. Not made a lot of progress yet so won’t say any more than that!

8. What fic meant the most to you to write?

Resurface I think. It covers a heck of a lot of headcanons and yeah… it turns out walloping Virgil is a fun way to prod at all of the bro relationships. And I have enjoyed the process of iteratively fixing Earth&Sky because (as I seem to have written it at least) their partnership is beautiful but kind of messed up and I have to believe they can get a better balance back. I hope the way I’ve done it works for people.

9. What fic made you feel the happiest to work on?

I think 75. It was really fun to look forward and imagine a good love-and-family-filled future for them all, especially my boy who didn’t think he’d get one.

10. What fic was the most satisfying to finish writing?

Well I was hoping to say Resurface but given I haven’t yet… hmmm. I might also have said Father’s Day until I randomly started to write more of it 😅 err… what have I actually finished? Let’s say 75 cos I actually finished that! (and pretend I don’t have an idea for a follow on)

11. What fic was the most difficult to write?

Estera. Which is a strange answer in some respects as I’ve compulsively written loads of it (as above!) but well… I’ve had a bit of a crisis of confidence and hit a silly, anxious wall about writing the actual chapter that comes next in the story and thus it has hung in limbo for months. My dearest co-writer is despairing of me perhaps only marginally less than I am despairing of myself!

12. What fic was the easiest to write?

The early parts of Resurface just rushed out as fast as I could type them… it got harder as I tried to heal them from the mess I made though 🙃 More recently the Oort Jeff stuff has been the topic for the most readily flowing words.

13. What were your shortest and longest fics posted this year?

Ignoring WIP posts, shortest would be “Scott is Not Fine” which is barely more than a Drabble at 202 words.

Longest? If it needs to be entirely within the year - Resurface (49,720 & counting) but I added a little to Estera which is longest overall (72,319 posted) but that word count is shared with some other wonderful writers and is mostly 2023.

14. What were your go-to writing songs

I have a few playlists for depending on what I’m writing :)

I do listen to the OST a lot when out and about but often not when actually writing as I guess each part of it is so strongly linked to what is happening in the episodes that it is distracting if I’m writing something different. Often I get ideas by listening to something totally random. I listen to a lot of classical and it may only be a few phrases that nudge something -any kind of soprano/tenor instructment interaction (e.g. cello/violin, trumpet/french horn, flute/bassoon) immediately conjures Earth&Sky for me. 99% of my writing is with music of some kind in the background (because I usually have an earbud in) although in retrospect I might not be able to tell what it was.

15. What was the hardest fic to title?

Resurface. Because I had another title in mind but it was already the title of one of my all-time favourite fics. But then this one came to mind and fitted perfectly!

16. What's your favorite title of the year

Haha, well I like what I’ve been doing with the chapter titles of Resurface. But “An Eyebrow-Razing Incident” is probably my favourite for the pun / spoiler combo.

17. Share your favorite opening line

Virgil’s forehead sank onto the bar and squelched slightly.

18. Share your favorite ending line

A brand new score had been opened. But Virgil knew the notes now. They’d compose this next version together.

19. Share your favorite piece of dialogue

This one because I worked on it for so long to get it right. It’s by no means the only important moment between Scott and Virgil… but is the first of a few steps to sorting things out:

“And I’m… grey, then?”

“No! Not usually! You’ve always been blue, like the sky… there are so many shades of it, with hints of yellow or gold…”

“There’s a but coming, I can feel it.”

Virgil grabbed Scott’s hand again as if to reassure himself his brother wouldn’t float away before he managed to express this.

“Sometimes it’s like you fade a little.”

“I fade?”

“You try to be a lot of things, Scotty and it’s admirable, it really is, and you do it so well but sometimes I worry there isn’t enough of you left to be you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re blue when you laugh at your own jokes, or smotherhen us and make a leaning tower of pancake… when you beat Gordy at his own prank game or act all melodramatic when you’re smuggling in the sweets Grandma doesn’t approve of. When someone says pie and your eyes gleam and when you randomly recite Shakespeare inaccurately and out of context or run up the stairs for no reason and surprise hug Allie… those times you’re a rainbow of blues. In the field when you’re problem solving at the speed of light and oh! That time you flew Shadow just for fun you came back shining so brightly…”

Yet again at the mention of Shadow, Scott had startled but recovered quickly and deflected:

“My Shakespeare is always in context.”

“Sure it is, Scott. And it’s very YOU.”

A flicker of resolve hardened his brother’s expression and Virgil was suddenly terrified as to how his clumsy explanation could have been interpreted by someone who was already chronically shackled to the ‘brave face’ impulse…

“But Scott, listen to me, this is important.”

He waited until his brother dropped his eyes from the horizon and met his own.

“I’m not saying it’s just when you are happy, you know? When you’re worried or angry or even sick or even… no, especially when you let yourself be vulnerable for one damn second, you’re you then too.”

“Then…” Scott sagged a little and an edge of indigo desperation coloured his voice “I don’t understand what the grey thing is meant to mean!”

“The grey thing… I guess it’s how my brain interprets the way I sometimes miss you when you are right in front of me. When you get hidden by everything else you think you are supposed to be. You lead so naturally, you do it without even trying but sometimes… sometimes you put on that damn grey baldric and it smothers you.”

“But the baldric is silver. My baldric is silver to match One!”

“It used to be blue though. Blue to match you.”

20. Share your funniest line

Ooh. I don’t know if I do “lines” - most of my attempts at humour are situation or context-specific…

But I’ll go with this little section from toddler-Scotty because it still makes me chuckle:

“Dada! ‘Cotty duck in fidge. Oh no!”

The tiny child lifted his apple sauce covered hands and looked at them as if suddenly realising they were attached to his arms. Bright blue eyes gazed down at him with an expression of extreme innocence:

“Oh no! ‘Cotty all messy! Ooopsiiiieee!”

Clearly realising his father had no follow-up questions to his comprehensive situational update, Scott plunged his hand back into the dish and shoved a fistful of pie crust into his mouth.

21. What's something that surprised you while you were working on a fic? Did it change the story?

This is a tricky one because frankly everything I manage to create surprises me.

Resurface surprised me with its length. I am a sucker for detail and dialogue and combining that with the fact I had a lot to get the boys to work through… it shouldn’t have surprised me really. But it did.

22. What writing programs did you use? Did you write by hand?

By hand? Hahaha, I’d never know what I’d written!

I’m still playing the risky game and throwing things down in apple notes on iphone, although have been trying to tag them a bit now so I can actually find things. I tried google docs - it drove me crackers by messing with my punctuation although I tend to copy paste into that when I’m finished to get a word count. Tried a couple of online drafting tools but they felt over-complicated. So am still in market for a good app I guess.

23. If you had to choose one, what was THE most satisfying writing moment of your year?

In retrospect I think maybe the end of Composition. Which is funny because despite having planned it for AGES as a kind of bridge between Presence and Resurface, I rushed the last chapter out in a hurry as I’d hit the point in Resurface that refers back to it and needed to ensure all the parts of the circle were in place. But exploring how Virgil sees the world is one of my favourite things and setting that short fic in a musical context was very satisfying. And it may be cheesy but this line still makes me smile:

With a satisfied hum, Scott pressed his cheek into his head and the timid, hopeful note in Virgil’s heart swelled into a triumphant chord of determination.

24. Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

Yes. I commissioned a piece of fanart and it is beautiful and perfect and I desperately want to share it but I must not until I finish the darn story because the whole point was it was a reward for finishing (I just got it a touch early…)

SOOON THOUGH.

25. How did you recharge between fics?

What is this ‘between’ you speak of? 🧐

26. Did you create fanworks other than fic?

No, unless Tiny Tracys count 🤣

27. How many events did you take part in? (bangs, exchanges, ship weeks, zines, prompt memes, they all count!)

I’m not good at prompts with time limits, it seems. I did write a little for Fishtank Week and there was the Secret Santa of course.

28. If this were an awards show, who would you thank?

So many people, basically all of Thunderfam who have encouraged me to try something I never thought I could do. But if I start a list I know I’ll miss someone then feel bad so I’ll stick to just one shoutout to @sofasurf for constantly encouraging me in both writing and life in general and who is a most excellent co-conspirator.

29. What's left on your to-do list for 2024?

Well I WAS going to say “finish Resurface” but… *eyes calendar and sighs*

30. What would you like to write next year?

Obv finish Resurface, and then I want to find my confidence with Estera again. So many ideas for Scott & Jeff and Allie & Scott and some fish tank too… and I’d like to write more John and more Kayo… not to mention the big mad apocalyptic fic which I really need to plot out properly before doing any more with…

But probably I’ll just end up writing about the boys playing on an airport travelator or stuck at the bottom of a hole or something because sometimes the pieces I’m most proud of are the ones that come out of nowhere 🙄😅🤪

[pg-satie]

Harry’s hands settle heavily on my waist, and I feel a strange kind of pleasure, buried under his weight, as if my presence warms him just as his does me. He sleeps fitfully, often turning and muttering in his sleep, but he doesn’t wake, and even this brings me joy — to know the time we spend together stretches on a little longer. Just enough to hold him close, to take him in, to soak up his scent. Harry would laugh at such thoughts; he struggles to believe that his scent is special to me, that I could recognize it among thousands. He finds it hard to talk about feelings, especially unfamiliar ones, and I don’t blame him for it. All I can offer him is a little peace, a place to rest from the endless rush of life. And I give it freely, joyfully, with no expectations. If he asked, I’d give him all of myself, too.

His overgrown curls fan out softly across the pillow, and I want to count each one, to comb them, to thread them through my fingers. His pale, gaunt face sends a pang of worry through me; Harry works so much, never taking care of himself. When I try to feed him or slip him some vitamins, he just smirks and says, “Oh, Draco, you make a terrible mother.” Embarrassed, I avert my gaze, unsure of how to reply.

Sometimes I don’t understand why he has such a hold over me. My tongue ties itself in knots when he teases, flirts, smiles slyly, showing off his dimples, or looks at me from under his lashes, fully aware of the effect he has on me. His eyes — deep, expressive, with a foxlike glint — lure me in like prey caught in a web. Except this prey willingly steps into the trap.

I reach out to touch the scar on his forehead, running my fingers over the faded mark, trailing down to his lips, his neck, his collarbones. I imagine my touch makes him smile in his sleep. At least his beautiful brows no longer furrow, and the little lines on his face smooth out. I close my eyes, listening to his breathing, but sleep won’t come. My restless heart beats on, refusing to let me find peace next to him. The clock reads half past three, and there’s only an hour and a half before Harry’s alarm. I hate watching him leave — seeing the door close behind him and all the joy in the room evaporate until his next visit. We don’t talk about it. Harry knows my door is always open for him, and he’s right about that.

My muscles grow stiff, and I slowly slip out of his embrace, moving quietly to the kitchen. I brew coffee for myself in the cezve and make eggs and waffles for Harry. He’ll grumble about losing his shape, and I’ll argue that protein and complex carbs won’t hurt him. In the end, he’ll eat it all and press a buttery kiss to my neck. I think that’s his favorite spot. He always kisses me there, and I feel the corners of his lips curve into a smile. I can’t help but smile back, threading my fingers through his hair and gently massaging his scalp.

When he wakes up — five minutes before his alarm — only one eye opens at first. Then he squints, frowns, and reaches for his phone to turn off the alarm. It’s his way of ensuring he gets up on time — beating the dreaded sound of it. On the mornings he succeeds, he seems particularly happy, like he’s managed to outwit technology itself. And, to my dismay, I find that endearing, too.

I hand him a glass of water, and he takes it gratefully. I open the windows, wrapping myself in a sweater. Harry could sleep all night with the windows open, even in November, but we’ve agreed to air out the room in the morning and evening. I look at him, tired and worn, and selfishly want to ask him to stay, to cancel his plans, to spend the day with me. But Harry isn’t like that, and it’s one of the many reasons I admire him.

When he rushes to the door, I stay where I am. It’s easier when I don’t watch him leave. Harry seems to understand that.

The silence that follows feels deafening as I lie down on the bed that still carries his scent. A notification pulls me from my semi-dream — it’s Harry, sending me a heart. I try to smile at the screen, but the effort feels hollow. Instead, I place the phone down and close my eyes.

I fall asleep hoping to dream of a world where he doesn’t have to leave in the morning and always comes back in the evening. Hoping that, in the dream, he says the things he doesn’t say now. Hoping I can do more for him, too.

[jpitha]

Table of Contents!

Hi Everyone! I'm jpitha!

I write sci-fi shorts and stories! I have a few universes that I like to write about, mostly so I can keep worldbuilding straight. I post here and on r/HFY (a scifi writing focused reddit) and I've been trying out posting links back to here on Threads.

I like to post nearly every day. My longer works usually get posted once or twice a week, but I try and fill out the week with other stuff.

Since I have a bunch of posts now, here's a ToC to help you find the kind you want to read, broken out roughly by theme:

Multi-Part Long Reads

The Race (2 parts) First long one I did and the first time I introduced a K'laxi. I edited it from its original post as I learned more about them. Complete

Blockade Runner (2 parts) Might come back to this one later

Awakenings (4 parts, Intertwined with Hidden Depths) Complete

We Need a Ride (7 parts, 2 Codas stuff in Awakenings and Hidden Depths references it) Complete

Hidden Depths A Multi POV Adventure about when everyone on the Joint Human/K'laxi Starbase comes together to defeat an invasion force with the help of a long lost colony ship. (27, plus extra parts, Intertwined with Awakenings) Complete

Just A Little Further YA Flavored, first person adventure about Melody Mullen and what happens when she goes along on an exploratory trip to try and reach the end of the Warp Gate system. (40 parts) Complete

The Dreams of Hyacinth Cyberpunk Noir. Nicholas North is a easygoing small time crook who lives on the Corporation owned High Mars Orbital Hyacinth. When he is asked by a friend for some help, he agrees readily, not realizing what he's getting drawn into. Ongoing

Aliens are Gardenworlders

I want to live on the Gardenworld

Tumbling on a low gee world

Diary of a Human on the Gardenworld

Spacediving

Gord the Maplelegger

Gord's Tall Tale

On Lawbreaking

Gord Goes Curling

Gord Meets His Match?

Worldbuilding

Blockade Runner (redux)

Avoid Humans are Mary-Sue's

Remember that your Aliens aren't idiots

The Fire Brigade

Starjumper age

On AIs

How to Communicate Across Vast Distances

Working out the Day/Time/Date differential

The Real World is Messy

Humans Are Old (friends)

Humans get fevers

How to Communicate Across Vast Distances

Hidden Depths: A Side Story

On Cooperation

Did AIs Ever Think to Wipe Out Humanity?

The First Few Rows Will Get Wet

Slice of Life Stories

The Cyclists

Acetone is bad?

Gene's High Gee Gym

Hospitality

K'laxi and Human kids playing

Office Cookies

Humans and their Hobbies

All Human Ships Have a Manual Override

Allergies

Liver and Kidneys mean we eat anything

Frisbee tricks

Risk Tolerance

The Dinner Party

The Long Way Round

Humans Solve Problems With Explosions

Humans Play Wargames

Everyone has Proprioception

K'laxi Used to Run on All Fours

Humans Still Solve Problems With Explosions

Tattoos and Piercings

Ambassador Transport

Just One Question

Lin Makes Art

Bar fight Aftermath

K'laxi and Cats

Do it With Style

Upgrading Starbase

How are AIs Powered Anyway?

Computing Power (edited)

Outside the K'laxiverse posts

Humans and their computers

Who Is The Human?

Throwing

Mating Rituals

Hunting

Determination

Lateral Thinking

Catching

Oxygen Ain't Nothing to Mess With

Flash Fiction Friday Posts

FFF187 - You Can't Be Serious

FFF189 - Because You Need It

FFF191 - We're On Our Way

FFF200 - It's Just a Walk for You?

Encyclopedia Posts

Humans Make Friends with Anything

Human Kids Make Friends Easily

Humans Make an Entrance

Humans bring Busking

War Emergency Power

On Starjumpers and Battle

War Stories

A Matter of Scale

Just Another Merc

Time to Go

Gotcha! (or is it?)

Inter-Colony War

Always Ready

The Sacrifice

Relationship Stories

K'laxi Can Eat Waffles

Peripheral Vision

Dancing

Flirting through exercise

Nilan and Ta'reni learn about timekeeping

The Big Game

Heart to Heart

YA-esque Stories

Water Balloon War

The Birthday Surprise

Kelly and Panemi look at kittens

[tortoisebore]

IDK IF YOU’RE STILL DOING THIS BUT!

How would wolfstar act during Barbenheimer? Who wants to see what? How are they dressed?

EEEEEEE i am ALWAYS doing these ALWAYS i love them so much 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶 ((i have some unanswered ones in my inbox i promise im getting to don’t worry 💕💓💞💖))

okay first off we’ve established that they’re both insufferable wanna-be film critics & everyone hates them for it. so keep that in the background. they’re annoying as hell.

so they get wind of oppenheimer first. the teaser plays at a midnight screening of “nope” ((sirius is a jordan peele stan)) and it’s just a bunch of fire and black and white shots of cillian murphy so they’re both like “🙂 huh okay fun.” but then christopher nolan’s name is on the screen and sirius is nearly flying out of his seat bc he’s potentially the world’s biggest chris nolan stan. and he’s hitting remus on the arm and he’s all “👹 FUC K! !!!” and remus is like “oh good another nolan movie that’ll be fun love that” and enduring sirius’ semi-quiet fangirl moment but then he catches on to what the trailer is actually about and “oppenheimer” comes on the end card and then he’s ALSO having a freakout moment & he’s all “oh fuck 😧😧😧 oh fuck it’s oppenheimer 🫢 oh fuck 😵 oh fuck cheistopher nolan’s doing oppenheimer 😵‍💫😵‍ oh god.”

so for the next couple of months they’re both telling all their friends “yes so we’ve heard the inside scoop about nolan’s new film, very ambitious, word on the street is that it’s all practical & the b*mb isn’t CGI” and “did u know that christopher nolan himself created an atom b*mb on set to 1/36th scale” like they’re just making shit up from these random reddit threads & illegitimate news sites and everyone’s like “yeah great okay sure no one cares 🙄”

but then fall rolls around & remus overhears someone on the actual street talking on the phone about a barbie movie. and he does a little google and there it is, greta gerwig is doing a barbie movie with margot robbie, and holy shit sirius is going to freak ((he’s also a greta gerwig stan, they both are, obvi. sirius’ favorite of hers is ladybird and remus’ fav is little women, also obvi)). remus makes the mistake of sending sirius the article ab the movie in a text instead of in person where he could have done some damage control and he immediately gets a facetime where sirius just screeches at him for a good three and a half minutes before a single coherent word comes out of his mouth. so yes, he’s very excited for barbie, and remus is excited for greta gerwig to make everyone cry over a doll.

so they know about the movies separately and then the barbenheimer phenomenon takes over, and they become aware that not only are both movies coming out in july, they’re coming out on the same fucking day. and when they find this out they’re at home on separate sides of the apartment and marlene texts in the gc like “are we doing barbenheimer weekend orrrr” and they both take a minute to catch up but then they’re meeting in the living room like WHATTTTT😵😵😵😵😵😵

they plan a whole weekend. on saturday morning remus gets up early and makes waffles in the heart-shaped waffle maker sirius found months ago specifically for barbenheimer weekend breakfast and even puts red food coloring in the batter so they’re pink hearts with whipped cream and cherries to top it all off. and they do black coffee to drink because it gives oppenheimer vibes & they couldn’t think of anything else appetizing to go with it in a breakfast scenario.

they’re going comfort over style for the premiere bc they’re ab to be at the theater for like seven or eight hours, but sirius is wearing a hot pink malibu barbie baby tee for the occasion. remus is ✨not✨ wearing hot pink bc he’s a ✨warm autumn✨ & it’s ✨not✨ his color but he made sure sirius took one of his sweaters bc he always gets cold at movies and complains he’s freezing until remus gives him his own & that is “not happening this time, sirius, get your own fucking sweater.”

they’re doing barbie first. they got the tickets the second they went on sale, two seats in the middle of the row ⅔ of the way back into the theater bc that’s where sound designers sit for screenings & it’s a perfect view. they get their giant sodas and a big popcorn to share, plus some m&ms they snuck in to do an m&m/popcorn mix ((god tier movie snack fr)). they’re enraptured from the very first scene. giant barbie on a desert background. barbieland. the dream house. ryan gosling. all of it. it’s a masterpiece. they both cry at the end & they’re caught off guard bc wtf this wasn’t supposed to be about mothers??? what the hell???

they have a forty-five minute break between movies where they recover in the lobby for a while & refill the popcorn, but they’re getting one water bottle to share this time bc bathroom breaks are not an option & oppenheimer has like a three and a half hour fucking runtime. like they’re doing bathroom breaks twenty seconds before the movie starts bc missing part of this film would actually destroy them psychologically

they do it in IMAX, obvi, ⅔ back in the middle of the row. it’s an out of body experience. they don’t speak or move the entire time. they don’t speak or move while the credits play. they leave the theater in silence. they go home and sit on the couch and stare at the wall and remus goes “we……we should have seen barbie last.” and then they both look at each other like 😐👀? and then they’re getting up and rushing back to the theater and seeing barbie again

the next day they’re getting together with all their friends to do barbenheimer day 2 and trying not to spoil it but they’ve already talked to each other about the individual movies too much, like they laid in bed and talked about the fucking movies like idiots for multiple hours, so they need new feedback to talk over & correct everyone’s wrong opinions

and like obviously everyone hates them

[sarah-sandwich-writes]

HOLD ON WAIT UP HOLD THE PHONE

I KNOW I WAS GONE FOR A FEW MONTHS THERE BUT HAS BLUE LIKE DON'T FORGET ABOUT ME ALWAYS BEEN A PART OF A SERIES OR IS THAT A NEW DEVELOPMENT???

I FEEL LIKE ITS CHRISTMAS ALL OVER AGAIN FUCK Y E A H

Okay so

I...

have been cooking

by which I mean illusions of grandeur and

schemes

And I have not been forthcoming lol Everyone kind of disappeared all at the same time so I kind of stopped talking about what I'm doing but I have been biding my time, quietly putting mechanisms into motion and plotting and occasionally cackling over my cauldron.

I finished the first draft of Blue like don't forget about me and didn't like it so I cut out all the sci-fi fantasy stuff (bye bye aliens farewell superpowers) and in November wrote a new first draft that's all contemporary romance babeee and I'm so in love with it I'm turning it into a little 3-part (possibly 4 if I can't control myself) series.

The original childhood years have been split off into a prequel novella called Red like my bleeding heart in your hand. Then Blue like don't forget about me will take place 20 years later. Nash works at Cherished Hope Nursing Home

“And what is it you do? At the nursing home, I mean.” I wipe shit off of old people. And Teddy’s a hockey player. What’s Luke, an underwear model? He shouldn’t have come.

Teddy comes back to town for a funeral and

Teddy looks at him for the first time in twenty years and every ounce of warmth leaves his expression. Message received. He should not have come.

OKAY SO AND THEN the next book will be Jo's POV and is called Violet like these delights. and MAYBE there will be a 4th from Luke's POV bc he gets to live this time by the grace of god (me) but it'll depend on how Violet goes (its current state is mostly vibes and a single overarching theme so, stand by).

Red needs a clean-up round of edits to snip out the few little threads that connected it to OG blue. And rewritten blue is basically done. I've done the major revisions and am about to start line edits and after those are done I'm sending it out to beta readers (lmk if you're interested).

There are concise actual summaries in my pinned post btw lol

WHICH REMINDS ME

The series title is Wildflowers of Deliverance. Which I'm extremely proud of. Did you notice did you notice how each title incorporates a wildflower did you did you? and the town they grew up in where Nash and Teddy first met is called Deliverance!!! It's okay I know I'm a genius.

And this brings us to the meal okay? because like I said I've been Cooking™ quietly but steadily for a few months now. ANd what have I been cooking? PLOTS and PLANS

I've decided on a pen name: Sarah B. Elisa

I've created a(nother) side blog for it that will be exclusively centered on my og writing and geared more toward readers rather than writers like this blog is: @sarahbe-writing

I'm going to create a website (as soon as I convince myself to spend money)

and a newsletter (as soon as I convince myself to spend money and do work)

I'm still waffling between trad publishing and DIY. I really like all my hats and it would be a shame to have to share them but oh my god I don't want to do all the marketing but trad pub seems hit or miss on how well they market you so I might get half of my hats taken away and still have to do the marketing bullshit UGH

anyway

OH YEAH and the OG draft I wrote for Blue? I'm going to spin it back to its OG OG roots [parkner, naturally--Return of The childhood friends to estranged almost lovers to super-powered rivals to reluctant allies to friends to lovers finally wip!!! AKA: We Were Gods (we were kids)] and that will fix all the things that went wrong and I didn't like 😌 so it's basically like double Christmas I think

[aesthetically-meme]

Heard you were having a bad night, can I hear about your characters? Or even a canon character that you just really love? Any specific headcanons that mean a lot to you? Let's talk about it! <3

I have Dusk on the brain. Maybe I'll turn this into a thread but for now enjoy my ramblings of Zephyrus.

Zephyrus, or more commonly known as Dusk/Waffle, is just. god they're tragic. I've set them up for heartbreak without meaning to. Giving them the ability to soul bind has been so useful for many things.

Oh oh I wanna talk about the Soul Bind, there's many people who don't know about that!

Ahem. So, soul binding is a cool little thing I added into my Kirby Lore™ and gave it to Dusk. It's a very unique, only obtainable (naturally) by Soul or Heart Matter astrals. Other methods involve magical enchantments and items that are far more toned down than the original.

Soul Binding allows the binder to connect their soul to another. This let's them know a general sense of where the other is, the pain they feel, their mental state, etc. However the pain the other endures is doubled for the binder. In some cases if the binder is able to, can take up more of the pain, lessening it for the bound. This is on extremely rare cases and can lead to fatal consequences.

A good example of this would be when Twilight Knight (owned by @that-fanperson-meg ) nearly died and used the power of the butterflies to defeat Nightmare. Dusk, having been bound to Twilight for ages, felt his soul nearly dip into the afterlife and felt an immense wave of pain. Xey then felt his power grow exponentially.

It wasn't fun, that's for sure.

Soul Binding is left to the binder, and doesn't do anything to the bound, other than giving them a more innate sense that they've grown closer to the binder. And it's totally up to the binder on why they do it! Romantic, platonic, familial, etc. It's all up to them!

They are essentially weaving a person's thread of fate to their's. Dusk is bound to a couple people: Twilight Knight, Skipper Knight, Eos, Maestro, Fylass, and Selene. However Maestro passed centuries ago, which wasn't really good for Dusk ... Kinda sent em into a deep spiral...

But it allowed em to find Twilight after many years of being separated! So that's something!

.... Right?

[measlyfurball13]

Fanwork creators self rec! When you get this, reply with your five favorite fics/art/podfics/etc. that you've made, then pass on to others. Let’s spread the self-love 🌼

Well, I'm a fic writer, so prepare for an esoteric assortment of fics in no particular order!

I'll open with my most recent, and the one I consider my best. This is a found family hurt/comfort fic starring Team Dark (comprised of Shadow the hedgehog and his two closest friends Rouge, and Omega, for those unfamiliar with the franchise.) Shadow is immortal, nearly indestructible, and saddled with some truly terrible PTSD around the ones he cares about dying on him, and it was interesting to portray that through a narration style I'd never tried before. This was also the fic where I really fleshed out how I write Omega, who is my all-time favorite character in the Sonic franchise. He's the most delightful blend of blunt and violent but also more caring than he lets on.

This one also deals with the unusually serious subject matter of post-mortem care. I remember waffling about posting this fic for weeks, worried that people would think a Sonic fanfic with such a down-to-earth subject matter would be scoffed at. Surprise! I was wrong. Once I posted it, this fic got a ton of positive attention, which I was grateful for.

Next up is a truly strange pick- it's a League of Legends fanfic, yet it's not about Veigar, the character I hyperfixated hard on for a solid year. I like the fics I've written with Veigar, don't get me wrong, but I like this one better. It stars Kassadin, a lone desert warrior who lost his family to the darkness he's trying to find the heart of, and Kai'sa, a woman who was consumed by said darkness but managed to wrestle back control of her body.

I really got to develop a unique character narration for the lead, Kassadin. It's a particularly strong, mature, and unique character voice, one that I enjoyed writing a lot and am quite proud of. I also leveraged some fantastic dramatic irony- anyone familiar with League lore knows that the monster he encounters is actually his long-lost daughter, Kai'sa. Yet his attitude towards that fact continually fluctuates, before ending on a negative-leaning note, something that was very challenging for me to do! (I'm a chronic therapy-speak writer, something I'm constantly working to avoid.)

I think it's underrated. League isn't a big fandom anyway, and I posted this onto an otherwise Veigar-focused blog. Perhaps I should post it on AO3.

I just had to mention one of my famous Sigma Overwatch fanfics on this list. I wrote a shitload of fic for this character, and almost all of it blew the fuck up back in 2019. I was the first person to post fic for Sigma once he came out on this website! (Not this fic in particular, mind you, but I thought that fact was worth a mention.)

Of my absolute deluge of Sigma fic, this is probably my favorite. The rest are good, but are a little simple. This one, though, has the thematic thread of "control" woven throughout it that I'm quite proud of. I also feel that this is the fic in which I captured the morally grey character of Moira the best- her emotions towards Sigma are complicated, but ultimately, she is his superior and the one responsible for a portion of his mistreatment here at Talon. This fic is essentially about her coming to that realization, and I think that's a powerful moment. It's a character dynamic I haven't seen anywhere else in media/fic. I'm proud that I wrote it.

Okay this next one is weird. By all odds, it should be my least favorite work, right? I'm not a romance writer. Doomfist is far from my favorite character. Hell, I'm not attracted to men, yet this fic continues to linger in my conscience as one that I'm immensely fond of.

I wrote it for and to evoke the writing style of the lovely amazing @ow-old-men. Gabe (op of that blog) has such fucking amazing imagery in his fics, and my imitation of that resulted in some of my favorite imagery and vibes I've ever written. I also think it's some rather strong character work- it's a moment where a confident, practically invincible socialite allows the mask to slip for just a second with a stranger.

Particularly, it's that singular moment that the entire fic was based around, the one that I suggested to Gabe in the first place. The idea that one of the proudest and most powerful men in the world would kneel for you without question so that you could kiss his forehead. Idk man, I still remain in love with the vibes of this one, even though it's so far outside the confines of my usual writing.

And finally, to finish this list off, I just have to plug my longest posted fic to date. This is my incredibly niche crossover of two obscure sci-fi shows that have my whole heart. It was also my first true practice at writing a long-form character arc, to which I think I succeeded.

Kitt, the AI from Knight Rider, wakes up far in the future and realizes that his closest companion is likely long gone. Over the course of this fic, he goes from wanting to deactivate to learning to open back up and allow a new person into his life. There's also some good ol' buddy-cop shenanigans between him and Garibaldi, the security officer aboard the space station that Kitt wakes up on, including a particularly fun scene where Kitt helps him cheat at cards.

This fic is showing its age just a tad with some of the writing and characterization of the Babylon 5 characters, but I'm still immensely, immensely fond and proud of it. Writing this fic taught me a lot that I'm applying to my current projects now. I wouldn't be where I am now without this one.

[cwarscars]

voidsacrifice, for the url thingy?~

Send me a url and I'll write some positivity for it.

@voidsacrifice

HELLO LOVELY; firstly, and ima do this for all of these - i apologise for taking my sweet, sweet time with this bad boy but im here now and ready to dish out the love~

i just wanna say, i feel like i rarely meet someone as enthusiastic and wonderful as you when it comes to plotting, ideas and waffling on about our characters. it's so heart-warming to have someone listen, be interested and like engage with my some of the more whackier headcanons (srsly i spew so much shit lol). i know im not always the most chatty partner ( i suck rest in potato me ) but i do really find you lovely and always charming to chat with. as a mun, you're lovely and very VERY sweet. you have a big heart and it shows in every interaction, whether it's sharing ideas & plots OR just chatting general love. i'd LOVE to game with you again or watch some anime with you when we both have the time, that'd be DOPE.

ANYWAY -

in terms of characters & writing, obviously i've only really written with your ffvii muses but i've enjoyed it greatly! i love that we have fleshed out, thought-out plots and that we're getting to explore them through threads. i know things have been a bit slow here and there with threads and life and fandoms and all that jazz BUT just know, i'm always very interested and looking forward to writing with you. what we have currently with rufus / heid meeting up after meteor? mwah, bellisimo. GOOD SHIT - IM really pumped to see our interactions with gen/heid, too cause i love the route we've gone down there with plotting.

im sorry if this is a bit jelly brained, my brain is mush RN but the main thing is that i want you to know that you're a wonderful, kind person and i always enjoy chatting / writing with you, whether its plotting / threads/ headcanons or anything else - you're rad <3

[twistedisciple]

♖ — Do people, in your muse’s opinion, ever really change? Do they believe themselves to be capable of changing?

or:

♡  — How would your muse define love? Do they believe in soulmates? Do they believe this definition of love is achievable?

Life Philosophy HCs | not accepting

♖ — Do people, in your muse’s opinion, ever really change? Do they believe themselves to be capable of changing? (also sent by @princepsumbra | second question answered here )

I waffled for a bit on the answer to the first part of this question, but I think the answer is no. I look at Gregory for pieces of Griss' personality and while most of his dealings with "change" involve meeting a different version of someone he knows, I think his support chain with Rafal highlights that he can still find a thread of familiarity in others even after they've had some massive turning point. In other words, an individual might change masks, but they'll always be the same person underneath. As a result, I think Gregory is prone to acting on assumptions, and these assumptions only reset in cases like his supports with Mauvier and Alear, where the person he's interacting with really is a completely different person.

Likewise Griss, even after he's quick to call Mauvier a traitor, doesn't really treat him or Veyle like they've changed when they face off for the last time:

(vs Mauvier) Griss: You come to get revenge? Or were you hoping the Hounds wound take you back? We were a family, Mauvier. That makes us like brothers. No one would blame you for missing us. Mauvier: I am here to strike you down. I have nothing more to say. Griss: Geez, a stiff till the end. Guess there's no point in holding back the killing, then. (vs Veyle) Griss: So, Lady Veyle! Where's my reward? Veyle: Reward? Griss: The real Lady Veyle promised me all the agony my heart could want. I was really looking forward to it! The cold, the severity... But in the end, nothing. Not even a scratch. Veyle: That Veyle... She's gone now. Griss: Yeah, 'cause you killed her! So you can't be all bad. Now, you tell me--how are you gonna do it? Kill me, I mean.

I think this is also why he gets blindsided by Zephia's change of heart at the end of chapter 23 after boldly asserting to Alear "I got no plans to switch sides. Not even if we lose. Got it?" He's not committed to protecting the shard. It's clear at this point that he only cares about staying with Zephia, and assumes that she won't switch sides either. And yet... she does.

So that brings me to the second part of this question: do they believe themselves to be capable of changing? The short answer is yes, but this comes with a huge asterisk. Griss has more or less given up his selfhood for god (which is both Sombron and Zephia). This means that he doesn't have to think about change. If god says Be This, he will Be This (fitting into pre-cut shapes is the source of a lifetime of suffering). As far as he's concerned, following orders or commandments, even if they contradict each other, doesn't constitute change of the self. If, at the end of chapter 23, Zephia had decided to give up defense of the shard and join Alear's army instead, Griss would have followed her without a second thought. But he wouldn't have called this his own change of heart. He is and always will be committed to a higher power.

Real change for Griss would be giving up fell worship of his own volition. But to be capable of change, one must be willing to change, and Griss isn't. He's happy (again with a huge asterisk) with who he is, albeit unable to visualize himself living any other kind of life. Pain, at this point, is an integral part of who he is, and he's built his entire personality around all of the twisted meanings he's had to give it in order to survive. To break him of this mindset might do more harm than good.

[harolinastyles]

This is basically a little blurb/drabble inspired by the above pic. Hope you enjoy!

Title: Stitches

Author: @harolinastyles

Word count: 1105

"Ow, fuck!" My ears perk up at the obvious sound of my brother’s discomfort.

"You okay in there?" I chuckle, raising my head from the sofa.

"Fine!" He exclaims, peaking my interest even more. He'd squirrelled himself away in the dining room about a half hour ago.

"What are you doing?" I prop my head up on my elbows to get a better look at the door he'd firmly closed behind him.

"Nothing!" He snaps and if I didn't know any better I'd swear we were back in the 90s and any second now he'll come bounding out dressed as a dalmatian or in mum's bra to put on a "show". But it isn't the 90s and my baby brother’s performances are slightly larger scale these days.

In fact, just last night he'd played to another record breaking crowd and honestly I could've burst with pride watching him.

"Hey, shitebag!" I laugh as I remember his favourite sign from Edinburgh, "you need a hand?" I push myself up off the soft leather and make my way across the room to see what it is he's up to.

"Fuck off!" He laughs as my hand twists the handle and as soon as the door swings open he swivels to face me and stuffs some kind of fawn material under his leg. My eyebrows furrow as I take in the old cadbury roses tin that Mum keeps her sewing kit in, the contents sprawled over every surface of the wooden table.

"You didn't tear one of mum's favourite blouses or something, did you?"

"Course not." He scoffs but continues to try to hide whatever it is he's doing.

My eyebrow cocks of its own accord and I know it's a trait he also shares with me. Neither of us are particularly good at keeping our thoughts from showing on our faces. The older I get the more I see it as a positive though. Honesty is rarely the wrong choice in most circumstances.

"You know this'll go much faster if you let me help, right?" I smile as I hold out my hand for the item he's still uselessly trying to hide.

His eyes flick down to the table as I take the empty seat next to him.

"Don't laugh," he mumbles and I can't stop my eyes from widening as I take in what I can now see is a dressing gown. I bite my bottom lip to try and stop my grin from forming while I take in the wonky line that he's made with sewing thread. My fingers brush over the waffle fabric and my brows once again knit together as I can't find an obvious hole that he is trying to stitch.

"Uhm... what is it you're trying to do?"

"What do you mean?" He grabs the item of clothing back before adding, "it's a monogram, obviously."

I pinch my thigh to force the laugh, threatening to break free, back down into my chest.

"With sewing thread?"

"Is that wrong?" His cheeks turn pink and my heart swells as once again it feels like we're kids and he's asking for help with his homework.

"You need embroidery thread and needle. I sent Mum a kit for her birthday, stay there and I'll go find it," I grin.

"Thanks Gem." His wide grin is infectious and I'm sure I have a similar look as I rake the sideboard for the present I'd sent.

"You can tidy all that away," I point to the mess he's made of the table.

"So fucking bossy," he laughs but does as I ask. My fingers grip the item I'm looking for and I bring it to the table.

"Always so obedient," I pat him on the head and he takes the opportunity to tickle my ribs so we both end up in a fit of giggles.

"Whose initials?" I ask while I pull out tailor’s chalk, an embroidery needle and three choices of thread. "Red, blue or green?" I list the limited choices of the kit.

"Red," He says and I raise my eyebrows as he picks up the needle and jabs his finger with it before declaring it "much less dangerous."

"Whose initials?" I repeat when I realise he didn't answer.

"Mine, obviously. See, that’s the start of an H." His fingers point to his squiggle.

"Suuuure," I roll my eyes and he clutches his chest in mock hurt while I undo the stitches he's made.

"So why do you want a monogram on your robe?" I ask, feeling a little miffed that he didn't ask me for help in the first place. I mean this is a hobby I've become pretty decent at.

"A friend saw my robe in Edinburgh and really liked it so I got them one as a present but I - well, I want to make it more special - personal - so here we are," he sighs in resignation because he knows, pardon the pun, that I'm going to keep pulling on this little thread.

"A friend, huh?" I enquire while I show him how to thread the embroidery needle.

"Jude came to the show. I told you that," he mumbles while taking an exceptionally keen interest in the robe he now has in his hands.

"Jude?"

"Uh huh."

"The same Jude you've had a crush on since we were kids?"

"Have not!" He scoffs but the pink tinge on his cheeks and the way he avoids my gaze tells me otherwise.

"And you did not tell me they were in Edinburgh!"

"I'm sure I did," my brother says as he holds out the threaded needle so I can show him what to do.

"I'd remember that. And hang on, if this is a gift for Jude then why were you sewing your own initials?"

"Gem..." he sighs, wanting me to drop it but he knows me better than that. I won't stop now.

"Harry!" I repeat back and turn his head to look at me.

"Fine..." he lets out a puff of air before he continues, "because I want our robes to match, okay? Happy now?"

"Ecstatic!" I exclaim, "this is the sweetest idea, Harry. I love it and they'll love it too, you know that, right?" I elbow him as I demonstrate how to do a chain stitch.

"You think so?" He asks and I can't wipe the smile from my face because no matter how big and famous my little brother gets, I know the little boy who needs my help is still in there and bringing these two together is definitely something I can help with. Starting with these robes.

[plantfeed]

LO & FRANKIE — THREAD 001.

description :  mostly for my own records bt jst an unhinged text interaction between lo and frankie tht i wanna immortalise on my blog x

featuring : frankie @eclvpses

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

[message deleted] [message deleted]

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

heeeeeeeyyyyy so i came into fannys earlier and i wanted to talk to you because i feel like i haven't seen you since forever ago but you were talking to jules so i didn't wanna bother you or anything but i was also like. i don't know. jealous i guess? i don't know. i don't even know if that's a thing but like. she's really pretty so if you did like her i would totally get it. it's literally so fine if you like her and if you don't even like me like it's whatever like i won't be upset i'd just rather know so i'm not like. wasting my time or whatever you know. not that im wasting my time because, like, every moment i spend with you is treasured regardless of what we are but also like. i don't know i guess some clarity would be nice but like im also so aware of the fact that im doing the thing i do where i just get super intense n scare guys off and im trying not to be clingy but yeah i don't know am i making any sense right now?? whatever i think you're cool and i guess it wouldn't suck if we like. hung out more or whatever.

frankie noel

hi! this whole text made me very happy im not sure what to do with myself jules is like my sister we’re not a thing in the absolute slightest she’s a best friend i like you a lot tho and i want you to be very intense with me we can hang out now if ur not busy

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

aaaaaaaaaaaaah okay sorry for putting 2 and 2 together and getting 12 is it weird if i say im like. kinda glad ur just friends? not to be super "my parents aren't home" but the family im au pairing for are actually vacationing in PR for the holidays so... i have full run of the house while they're gone 👉👈 or we could just get a christmas drink in town? whatever you want, im easy breezy lemon squeezey 🍋

frankie noel

don’t worry about it, people usually assume the same thing she’s very Affectionate and Touchy (said fondly tho) but i’m glad ur glad :) i can come by this evening, i’m just doing some standard christmas hubbub with my aunts first […] i can have them put together a plate for u?? there’s gonna b a lot of leftovers they always make like 1000x more than necessary for fanny’s regulars that don’t have anything to do on christmas i’ll bring my own it can b like a little christmas date 🎄🎅🏻

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

oh. does it bother you that im like super touchy and affectionate? because i can tone that down if you like. guess some people are just built that way hope it's going well!! love suzette and molly so much, like i know they barely know me but if they ever needed a hand i would literally chew my own arm off to give it to them [...] that's so sweet, frankie. like really so sweet, i don't think anyone's ever done anything that kind for me. are you sure?? i mean it's christmas, so i totally get it if you'd rather spend it with family [...] but if you do come you could always like. sleepover or whatever. borrow my pyjamas and have waffles in the morning. if you wanted. [...] sorry, just realised that sounds kinda slutty!! the last thing i wanna do is make you uncomfy! we'll just see how it goes n if it gets late and u do wanna stay we can always reassess the sitch and sleep in separate rooms like victorians if you want! or not! im chill! will just be nice to see you n stuff x

frankie noel

it doesn’t bother me at all, there’d be more affection and touching if i had it my way from u specifically, to clarify, my heart gets warm whenever we’re even in the same room together the touching’s nice they know all about u, they’re gonna b thrilled they have a fan club now 🫡 […] well you feel like family to me and i spend every day with them, we already did gifts the christmas magic is Over now i want to be with you […] packing my overnight bag As We Speak i can totally get down with the victorian style era if that’s your thing but if it’s not i’d much rather share a room and if we’re feeling absolute insane, a bed at that i don’t even snore or anything i’m basically the ideal sleeping buddy unless this is actually bordering on being overly slutty but. i just like you a lot i don’t rly wanna mince my words or anything

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

okay well you don't need to ask twice. when i see you later i'm gonna like. literally pull you so close that my skin n ur skin fuses together n then we'll have to spend the rest of our lives walking around together like those creepy shining twins. or marykate and ashley when u think about it, marykate and ashley are kinda shining twins adjacent. if i was them i would so do that for a halloween costume sorry. not trying to deflect. my heart gets warm too. all about me? frankie even you don't know all about me yet. it's kinda fun tho. like there's still so much we dont know about each other [...] i've never really had like. a proper family. so yeah that means a lot

i wanna be with you too. idk i was kinda scared to admit it bcos that usually results in me getting exiled for being a needy little cunt but now that you've said it i feel better. and this house is super nice. they have a jacuzzi! no no no we can share a bed. i'd actually really like that. i just didn't want you to feel pressured. oh me too. except sometimes i sleep talk about my dreams. you can be slutty with me!!  i want you to feel like you can be slutty with me. fair warning i might latch onto you and not let go all night. i'd probably sleep with you inside me if you let me.

frankie noel

i think u should know i’m trying to be very normal cuz i tend to freak ppl out with how intense i get its a common theme but ur kinda perfect ur offensively attractive and saying all the right things […] […] if things went my way i’d like take u to city hall tmrw LMFAO […] anyway u can live inside my skin and do wtvr u want to me obviously i’ll be there soon […] i’m rly rly excited to see you 🥰😜👍🏻👀😩

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

you don't have to be normal. i know it's only been a short while but like. there's nothing normal about the way i feel about you. so jot that down 📝 usually guys only tell me i'm attractive when they're trying to get in my pants, and like. sometimes not even then. but i know that's not even your game. are you an air sign? i bet you have a libra placement in your chart. [...] why? what's at city hall? 🙂 [...] you can do whatever you want to me too. i'm not shy. not with you i bet it's such a lovely place to live. if i was really small i would make such a cute house in there, nestled just between ur lungs n ur heart. a real susie homemaker type. and tiny frankie could come home every day n tiny me would be like. i've literally been waiting for u to get home all day? i missed u so bad? n tiny me wld have like. all ur favourite foods ready in my cute 50s housewife dress and apron (in this fantasy i can cook). we'd have separate bedrooms which we decorate in our own styles with a door between like helena bonham carter and tim burton used to. if we slept in the same bed all the time we'd just never sleep n fuck like rabbits probably i dnt know, but i'd be your rabbit if you wanted. you could put me on a leash and walk me round the block and dress me up for easter. [...] sorry i get carried away sometimes. i'm so excited to see you, too 🥺 🥰 😳 can you do a special knock when you come please bcos i just opened the door to some carol singers in my underwear. actually maybe i'll put a dress on

frankie noel

i know nothing about astrology except some ppl i've dated in the past have been horrified by my chart, you make it endearing tho is aquarius an air sign?? what're u?? i bet our signs are compatible or however it works [...] [...] my parents got married at city hall, i heard it was a rather dull affair which sounds pretty lame to be honest, if we got married there i'd make sure it was like something to actually write home about at least [...] i think u might actually b the smartest person i've ever met in my entire life, and i'm not just saying that, idk where u come up with half the stuff u do but it's fun i want to live inside of your brain and just rummage around in there and see what else u can come up with..... also take a sneak peek at wtvr corner i foster in incredibly wrinkly organ of yours it must be a great place to live and i'll be the cook in both your fantasy and irl so u never have to worry about anything :-) [...] NO DRESS!!!!!!! [Sent with Boom Effect] i'm around the corner!!!! i'd run if i was athletic

𝐥𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

omgggg!!!!!! omg???? i think we might actually be super compatible air signs are my favourite signs. all of my favourite people are air signs. my best friend siobhan is actually a libra like me which is why we get on so well bt aquarius is also p good. to get the full picture i wld have to know ur place and time of birth so we cld look at ur chart but the internet says we'd make better lovers than friends haha thats so crazy! Image Image Image Image omggggg ignore that last one i have no idea how that got there [...] u wanna take me to the place ur parents got married???? if we got married i would have the biggest dress you could fit my whole family of sylvanian creatures under it. i have loads of sylvanian creatures btw i'll introduce you to them all. i wld probs keep snacks under there for the whole day strapped to my thighs with garters like miss congeniality as weddings are literally so long and if you got tired of interacting with everyone you could just hide under my big skirts and hang out there for a bit. [...] nobody has ever told me i'm the smartest person in the room let alone the smartest person they've met in their entire life 🥺  that actually means a lot. like. i know i'm smart but i think quite a lot it's easy to just underestimate me or whatever bcos i didn't go to college. i think you're super smart too btw but like really emotionally intelligent and so kind. it's so refreshing. omg u cook too?? am i dreaming?? where's the catch?? bad breath in the morning? tiny dick? secret green card sham marriage? think i'd still like u with those things tbh ok gnna do a tit indent against the fogged up glass of the window like a bat signal so u know which house. if ur fast u might even see a flash of nip.