#which we’ve all agreed I can do both as long as I’m comfortable

[just-a-cinnamon-bun]

I just got a new job and I’m relieved by how much I like it so far.

[amiaclone]

Thank you! I love getting compliments by my writing

By leader I’m assuming the manager guard? If so I’ll do it I hope I’m right 😭

Tw: Probably really ooc

I unfortunately can’t find a gif of him so just google the black manager guard if you don’t know who I’m talking about

Leader guard x gender neutrel! Reader

(Readers gonna be a hoodie if you don’t mind)

You sighed how long has it been?

Killing in general sucks but being forced to do it? Wow

You unfortunately lost one of the games in the last squid game it was i think the honeycomb game? You however survival instinct took in and ran and hid for a good while trying to get out of the Island

Unfortunately due to all the cameras and lack of hiding spaces you were caught but due to how long it took to find you and how much you begged and begged….The vips apparently or something requested Front man for you to live they didn’t care what they’d do with you but you were entertaining

So you became a guard honestly it was better then dying but killing hundreds of people made you sick to your stomach

Although you were promised to be let go after this game which was relieving but still….you don’t think you were ever gonna forget this

You ended up becoming a co officer? Too bad the officer front man of the workers was the most annoying guy ever…..

You were disgusted he didn’t care about the amount of lives he was taking and watching people being tortured is entertaining somehow…..and the selling the organs bit

He however unknowingly to you took a liking to you he never saw your face no matter how many times he’d insist you never took it off it’s not like it was an order he just….wanted to see your pretty face

He liked your random short snarky comments you’d make occasionally whenever you’d get comfortable enough

Now here you are with him annoying you about whatever as he kept his eyes on the cameras making fun of half the players

“Player 233 is so stupid imaging not eating your food when it’s your only meal a day-“

“I don’t care-“

“Oh come on babe can’t you just pretend to agree me and you can both agree it’s boring.”

*You rolled your eyes under your mask*

“Yeah the second we get distracted I get the blame and get killed? Yeah right”

“He thinks you’re somewhat entertaining weirdly it’ll probably be me.”

*You didn’t say anything what’s there to say?*

“……So wanna make fun of the players?”

“No.”

“Ok then, your loss….”

*You were shocked he agreed somewhat but atleast he shut up*

“Hey since nobody’s here why don’t we take our masks off can barely breathe in these….”

“Why do you always wanna take our masks off?” *It’s not like you didn’t want to or anything but the way he always insisted was he testing you? Planning something? Being paranoid in this case is perfectly justifiable*

“Well you sound cute your face is probably even cuter….besides we’ve known each other for weeks you have to atleast think I’m tolerable?” *He teased*

*You scoffed* “Yeah so tolerable…” *You pondered in thought it is getting hot in here it’s not like you can’t breathe in the mask or anything but eh you never seen his face either you haven’t seen any of the workers faces now thinking about it-*

*Your thoughts were interrupted by him taking it off he was…..attractive. Eh personality is kinda bad.*

*You quickly regained your composure* “Sweet.”

*He winked jokingly*

“Bet you weren’t expecting this face were you?” *He went through his pocket and got a cigarette and smoked puffing some air out.* “Wanted to smoke.”

*You groaned in disgust* “In this room was it really necessary?” *He shrugged* “It’s not like it’s gonna kill you.”

*You sigh taking your mask off and using your hand to wave the smoke air out of your face you noticed him staring*

“What?” *You asked in an annoyed tired tone*

“Nothing.” *He smirks a bit*

“You’re just really pretty that’s all.”

Hope you liked it!

[starshipsofstarlord]

Prisoner

Summary-> (Early season 3 based) Winter had been a long journey for all of your group, especially you and Daryl given that there was always a lack of privacy. You find it difficult to feel at home in the prison, but Daryl is always there for you when you need him, and you have the chance to relish in a night alone - or as lonesome as a cell can be (2.9k)

Warnings-> 18+ mdni, smut, unprotected sex, fingering, established relationship, mentions of arrest and imprisonment, swearing

daryl dixon // norman reedus works masterlist

It was an adjustment, that much was clear. After having been locked up in a prison for a few years, the last place you had wanted to be was in one, but here you and your group were, in a cell block after having cleared it out.

Your knee bounced as you sat upon the steps, gnawing upon lip, staring at the familiar grey walls that brought bad memories back into your mind. It wasn’t something you wanted to voice as a problem, you’d spent all winter out on the road, enduring the cold nights, you should have been grateful like everyone else was.

“Y’ okay?” Daryl asked as he took a seat beside you, brushing his shoulders with your own with a comforting manner, reading with no doubt that something was bothering you. Most of the day you preferred to be outside, killing the walkers that clawed at the fences, and you jumped at the chance to go out on a run for supplies just to get out of this pit of misery.

“I’m fine. Just need a distraction from all of this.” You gestured around you, sending him a small smile, feeling far too conscious to even think about falling asleep. “I know it should be good that we’ve found somewhere, and it is, don’t get me wrong, but-“

“I know.” He told you, nodding in understanding, before he put his large hand over your smaller one, clasping it in his grip and bringing it up to his lips. “Don’t have to like it, none of us do, but we woulda died if we hadn’t found this place. And that’s the last thing that I wan’ to happen to ya. I’m grateful for everything you did, ya know.”

“I know Dare.” You decided to look at him rather than the tin you were sat in, meeting his softened blue eyes. “Think if I saw Merle again I’d kick his ass for abandoning me on that night which cost me months in the normal world with you.” He grunted in agreement, smiling when remembering that you had found their camp, and you’d done just that to his older brother.

“Ya got out, that’s all that matters. Especially before all this and the world goin to shit.” The thought of you trapped in somewhere like this and most likely being turned into walker chow or one of them had his heart bursting at the seams. It was a vulgar thought, and the last thing that he ever wanted to happen to you. He wanted to protect you, and he should have done that before, but he was petrified, and you were too stubborn and claimed that you had to pay for your mistakes.

He’d come to see you a few times when you were locked away, he hated that a panel of glass separated the both of you, all he had wanted to do was run his fingers through your hair and tell you everything was going to be okay. But he couldn’t, so instead he counted the days and hours until your release, he had this whole idea of collecting you from that place and driving you far away.

But your release day had been the same day that the entire planet was engulfed with the spreading news of a disease that turned people into monsters, and Merle wouldn’t let him go to see if you had made your sanctioned escape. He had no idea whether you were still alive until he saw Shane carrying you into the camp, exhausted from the lack of both food and fluids and running god knows how many miles just to survive.

“Guess you’re right.” He always was, even if he was too selfless to admit it. “Do you maybe want to try sleeping in a cell? I know we’ve got this whole thing of liking the floor, but I guess it’s worth a try.” Daryl surprising agreed, pulling you to your feet after he had stood, the two of you walking to an empty cell, passing by the other members of your group that were either asleep or lying down in isolation.

It was a big step for you to enter a cell after the months you had been holed up in one by the law, but Daryl kept his hand on your elbow, reminding you that he was there. And always would be. And so unsurely, despite it being your idea, you stepped within the cell, it was devoid of any personality, just a bunk and the normal silver basin and toilet, which all reminded you that this wasn’t home. You hoped that one day you’d find somewhere that felt less suffocating, there had to be a place out there, beyond the chain fence, where it was safe to breathe without the risk of walkers eating you in your sleep.

As you entered the room, you were strangely comforted by the sound of Glenn’s snoring from the cell over, he was no doubt laying beside Maggie, then both lulling in the chance to rest. “It’s not so bad.” You muttered, kicking off your mud accented boots, as Daryl remained close to the door, blocking the view from anyone that could pass as you shrugged out of your jeans, and lifted your shirt over your head, leaving you in just your underwear. It was something that you hadn’t been able to do in prison without the harassment of officers or other people fulfilling their sentences.

Daryl said nothing as you stood still for a moment, closing your eyes, before you reached back, unclipping your bra, his eyes danced over the expanse of your back, every scar traced by his pupils and every mole a target that he planned to pelt with gentle kisses. You turned around to face him, like a vixen testing his limits, tilting your head as you padded along the floor towards him, your fingers brushing against his sleeve butchered flannel. “I want your shirt.”

There was no resistance on his part as he helped you unbutton each button on it, shrugging it off of his broad shoulders as he handed it to you, watching you slip it on. You inhaled his scent as you did only a couple of the buttons on it, before testing the mattress with your hand on the bottom bunk, before sliding upon it and closing your eyes. “Aren’t you going to join me?” He said nothing as he silently kicked off his own boots, tossing the knives he carried out from his pockets onto the floor, them deliciously clattering upon the cement, as he readied himself to lay beside you.

“It’s been a long time since we had a bed.” Daryl spoke in hushed volume, not counting the time on Herschel’s farm after he had been scathed by a bullet in the left side of his head, no thanks to Andrea. He shuffled as he tried to get comfortable, deciding on laying on his side and facing you, trapping you in his arms as his nose brushed against your own. “At least it’s better than that one you had in your shitty old trailer.” He smirked, watching as you tapped his shoulder with your screwed up fist, rolling your eyes when you remembered why it hadn’t been so comfortable.

“It was perfect, we broke it in. Not my fault that the springs couldn’t hold up.” He shook his head at your words, clearly that sale you had got it from had been a scam, but you had insisted that it was better than sleeping on the floor. Truth be told, Daryl didn’t care where he slept, as long as he had you securely beside him, he never wanted you to be taken away from him again, and he was insistent that he wouldn’t allow that to happen.

“I think you’re the one tha’ couldn’t hold up. Or be quiet.” He remarked, causing a scoff to pass from your lips, as you attempted to turn away from him but he wouldn’t allow you. Instead his grip on you got tighter, as he raised a brow at your actions. “But if yar blamin’ it on the damn mattress, we migh’ as well see if this one is any better.” It wasn’t very often that Daryl would smirk, but when he did, you practically melted in a puddle in front of him and forgot where you were, which in this instance, was a blessing. His hand trailed down your sternum that was exposed by your lousy buttoning of his shirt that you wore, descending dangerously lower, so that his fingertip hit the top band of your panties.

Your breath hitched, as your body became almost immobile, frozen from his more that welcomed touch. He teased you, running his hand hand back to your stomach only to trail it back down to where his destination had been. “Damn it Daryl, do something.” You hissed, careful to keep your voice down. “I swear to- oh.” His hand had slipped into your underwear, rubbing against the outside of your cunt, causing your hips to jut up into his touch. He always knew how to make you sufficiently aggravated, you’d have cursed out from the bubbling annoyance in your chest if you had no worries that anybody could hear the two of you.

With that he slipped a finger into your walls, it felt like it had been a long time since the two of you had an opportunity to be physical. All through winter, after losing the farm to the mass of endless walkers, you’d had sex once out in the woods, when you were supposed to be hunting, and because of your lack of action you felt touch starved. Even despite Daryl proceeding to hold your hand when the pair of you rarely walked at the back of the group, and sleeping side by side with him. It just hadn’t been enough, but for now these taunting walls allowed you some release, ironically enough.

“Yer so fuckin’ tight.” Daryl muttered, kissing up your stomach all the way up to your lips, ushering and drinking your whimpers that threatened to escape. “Woulda fucked ya more if I’d had the chance baby, now I’m really gonna have to stretch ya out before I can put my cock in ya.” You could only moan into his mouth, hands clasping around his wrist as you ground yourself down on his hand, you let out a squeal as he unexpectedly entered another finger, alarmed by the welcomed intrusion, however Daryl stopped all movements. He spoke quietly to himself, eyes dancing around with a scheming glimmer in his eyes, as an idea revelled in his mind.

He yanked a pillow out from beneath your head, causing you to pant as you clenched desperately around his fingers, trying to allure him into continuing. Daryl raised your hips, fingers still in you, as he placed the pillow beneath them, your mouth making an O shape as he hit a new angle inside of you. If you hadn’t been in a prison, knowing that it was your worst nightmare, he would have calmed your sounds by placing the pillow over your head, but he knew where the line was drawn and he was never one to cross it if he was aware of your discomfort. “Good girl.” He drawled out, deciding to fasten the pace of his fingers as a wet spot began to leak onto your panties, he swiped his tongue across his bottom lip as he watched you. You were close, and it had come faster than expected, given how many months it had been.

“More.” You pleaded, wanting his cock, no matter how much it hurt when he stretched you out, but instead you were given another finger, and Daryl grunted as he rutted into the bed. “Dare, need you.” You huffed, feeling empty when he removed his fingers. The time dragged as he unbuckled his belt and pulled off his jeans, and finally he clambered on top of you, his naked form teasing every nerve in your entire body. “If you need me so bad, why don’ ya ride me?” He whispered, rolling the both of you over so that you were atop of him. You leant down, your hair falling in a cascade around both of your faces as you pressed your lips against his, sliding your cunt over his cock.

He was frighteningly hard, it had been months since the both of you had gotten this far, and there were no interceptions that could stop you this time, or so you hoped. Your slick coated his length as you ground yourself on him to fulfil your own insatiable drive of hunger, his hands bruising your hips as he attempted to keep you still so he could slip inside of you from beneath your trembling form. His tip grazed your clit, sending you into a frenzy, you couldn’t wait a second longer you mindlessly decided, grasping his erect cock in your hand to hold it still, as you slid him inside of you. It was an ethereal feeling, the two of you relished in the sensation of being so close, and not just emotionally.

Daryl’s head reached up, pulling you down flush on top of him, as he spread an array of butterfly kisses over your collarbones and the middle of your throat. “I love ya girl, you drive me absolutely crazy, but yar my kinda crazy.” He stroked your hair lovingly out of your face, distracting you from how he raised both of the weights of the lower halves of your bodies up, and before you could respond with your own spoken words of love to him, he began to thrust up into you, making the world around you drown into nothing more than a distant memory. Your breathing was messy as it mixed with your partner’s, you sturdied one hand on the pillow beneath his head, the other long discarded to the floor, as your opposite braced itself on the wall, clawing at the impenetrable surface.

“Fuck Dare.” Tears were glazing your eyes as you felt each vein of his cock within your cunt, and you began to move with his own thrusts, finding a rhythm that suited the position that you were in. You were careful not to raise your head too high so that you didn’t hit it on the bottom of the bunk above you, Daryl’s right hand left your hip and rested forcefully on your ass, squeezing the flesh as he tried and failed to hold in his grunts. Surely by morning, there was no doubt that someone would make a commotion about hearing you through the screen-less doors, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not after how long it had been since you had evoked such passion with the man below you.

Sweat began to bead upon his forehead, slicking the growing locks onto his face, as you brushed them away. A heavy creak rattled from the bed as Daryl once again turned you over, and pounded in you from above, without allowing his cock to slip out from your sweet and wet pussy. From the red tint that had appeared on his face, and how he frowned as though he was on a mission, it was clear that he was getting close, which wasn’t a surprise considering the amount of time that had passed since your bodies had moulded together in such a way. You grasped him by the back of the neck, pulling him down to entrap him in a fiery kiss, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist as you approached your own high.

And there it was, the destination that you had been caving for, your own release. After all of those months that you had served as a resident in a prison, you’d missed his touch, and as soon as the two of you had reunited in Atlanta, you’d made the most of the time you could get together. Daryl’s thrusts began to get sloppy as he struggled to keep up his pace after feeling you clench around his cock and cum all over it, sending him into a delirium to chase his own high. He could feel his balls straining to be emptied, and when he was almost there, he pulled out, not wanting to further the risk anymore of getting you pregnant given the state of the world, and began thrusting himself in the apex of your thighs, until finally he allowed his seed to spill over your flesh.

He exhaled a deep sigh, leaning down to press a kiss against your sweaty hairline, before reaching down and grabbing your discarded shirt, wiping your upper legs clean. He wasted no more time to curl up next to you and bring you into his large arms, staring at your face, letting you know without words that you were the most important thing to him. He’d do anything for you and to keep you safe, nobody was going to separate the two of you again, he was stern on that. “Maybe this place isn’t so bad.” You muttered lovingly into his chest, brushing your nose against where his heart lay, and Daryl releases a small but real smile as he tugged the blanket out from tour forms, awkward as his manner was, and wrapped it around the two of you, so that you could drift off to sleep in his arms and pretend for a moment in your dreams that the world wasn’t as it was.

[angel-in-your-basement]

Hi, i Hope to not disturb you, but I'm discovering new things about me with your blog, the problem is that I always feel guilty, and disgusted by myself even if i find It okay or attractive when other Person share It.

Any advice on how to deal with this senseless emotion? 🤡

Thanks to you in advance even if you don't answer, love your writing and your blog, big hug if you are comfortable with them <3

Hi!

Sorry I wasn’t able to get to this sooner! This is gonna be a long one, so I’m gonna put it under the cut. Let’s talk about one of my favourite topics: kinks & shame/guilt/disgust 🥰

So in my experience, over time your brain will get used to the ideas, and the disgust level will go down naturally - especially if you talk about it with other people who are into it, because that helps to normalize it.

But that’s not an 100% fix, so let’s talk about some things you can do to actively manage the icky feelings.

First of all, guilt + shame + disgust are all feelings that are intended to protect us from doing bad things & being bad people. When you start doing or wanting to do something that you’ve been told is “bad”, it’s normal to feel bad! It makes a lot of sense, actually - it’s our brains trying to keep us on track with our values & maintain our relationships.

But, of course, what we’ve been told is bad is generally not objectively bad, it’s heavily influenced by opinion, unprocessed emotion, politics and a whole bunch of other shit. So what we want to do is identify what we’ve internalized, and whether that actually fits for us.

The single best thing you can do is to get curious & (gently & non-judgementally) question those thoughts.

So here’s some questions to get you going & explanations to go with them:

Why is this kink “bad”? Where is that idea coming from? Do you 100% agree with this? Why or why not?

Often, it’s something very black & white like “hurting people = bad”, but when we actually unpack it, there’s a LOT of nuance to it. Like, what counts as hurting? Emotional? Physical? Is someone being hurt always a bad thing, or is it sometimes necessary in order for us to learn/hold boundaries/etc.? What if someone wants to be hurt? Is there any situations hurting someone might be okay in?

What do you feel like it says about you that you’re into it?

Generally, this comes down to something like “if I am into this, I am a bad person”. So I would question again: what’s a bad person? How do you know if someone is one? What is the exact criteria and cut off point for being “bad”?

One particular point to mention here is that it is my very strong belief (guided by research + my job + personal experience) that thoughts, feelings, urges etc. are not “you”, and they are not bad. Where we get into “bad” territory is in how you deal with them. I am a big supporter of identifying the core needs behind your thoughts & urges, and meeting them in healthy ways, like kink! Which leads us to…

What are you getting out of this kink?

For instance, a lot of my kinks, both sub and dom, come from my need to be wanted, and exploring the extremes of that (what if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything to have me? What if someone wanted me so bad they would do anything I tell them?). Other common themes are control, exploration of insecurities, exploration of shame/taboo, and so on.

Do you want to be okay with this kink? If yes, what boundaries do you need in place to help you feel better about exploring it? If no, why not?

This one is important because you don’t HAVE to be okay with a kink. You don’t have to engage with it, even if your horny brain thinks it’s a good idea. If you don’t want to engage with it, set out a plan outside of horny time for how you will hold that boundary. If you do want to engage with it, what parts are most uncomfortable? Do you need to engage with them in order to engage with this kink? Again, if you DO want to be okay with stuff, ease yourself into it. Go slow.

And most importantly: connection

Nothing helps more with shame than to talk about what you’re ashamed of with someone who you know will be kind, non-judgmental and can relate to you. That’s what kinky friends are for!

One final note:

If you are worried that you are a bad person, it’s extremely unlikely that you are. Bad people don’t sit around worrying that they are bad.

[iadore]

Long post. For anyone having Byler doubt right now let me share a few things I know are true and point out what I believe is the logical conclusion. (Some may disagree) Bear with me. It will all add up and hopefully bring some comfort.

Facts:

Before season 4 David Harbour spoiled that Will had feelings for Mike in an interview.

After season 4 vol 1 Byler exploded on social media. The pairing gained a huge following. Byler won ship of the year. Noah despite having less screen time than his cast mates won the people’s choice award for best male actor. People were so desperate to prove byler endgame they paid for fake scripts which led to the ST writers account agreeing to share scenes people wanted to read. The van scene was in highest demand.

Simultaneously, there is a rise in homophobia in the fandom. We all remember getting bible verses in our ask boxes after posting GIFs of Mike’s soupy face when he looks at Will.

The Duffers shifted from saying they were “tuning out the noise” to taking in fan feedback.

David Harbour was told the ending of stranger things.

A year ago (2023) he said people need to accept Mike is in love with eleven. Once again spoiling an important part of the final season. (Personally this was the moment I gave up on Byler happening and my heart broke. I was so sad about what they turned Mike into and that they used Will’s love to fix a hetero relationship. They never explained mike’s sudden cruelty towards Will. I felt it wasn’t bad writing it was just lazy and somehow that was worse. I stepped back from ST and moved on to other more queer friendly stories. It seems silly since this is just a TV show but I think everyone who ships Byler can attest to how invested you can become in these boys and the remarkably selfless love Will gives to Mike.)

They start filming season 5. Throughout the year we get bts pics. I peeked at these and tried not to get my hopes up again. I told myself the fact there were so many byler pics and so few mileven pics didn’t mean anything. Byler is more popular. Sharing pictures of them will get more attention, so I dismissed this as people seeking clout.

The cast says over and over the Duffers can’t please everyone. I figured this was them trying to let the passionate Byler fandom down easy.

Millie hints her ending in the story is not typical.

Then… the cast reads the final script. They all officially know the ending. Every detail of it.

Noah does his first panel in a long time. In which he says “you could never tell of [mike and Will’s relationship] was something romantic or just a really special friendship.”

Several posts on social media show up as people say they won’t watch the final season because Noah’s words make them think Byler is clearly going to happen.

David Harbour said in a recent interview that the Duffers are in tune with the audience and what they want in terms of pairings. Look above for all of the “subtle” (lol) hints the fans have been giving that Byler should be endgame.

My personal conclusion/opinion/guess:

Mike and Will are going to end up together. It wasn’t the original plan but after seeing the fans point out all of the obvious signs and show their love for the relationship it was the logical choice. Anyone who sees all the “Byler proof” has to admit there are real signs of romance on both sides whether they were intentional or not. Going forward all of the hints we’ve picked up on will have meaning, even if they began as accidents.

David Harbour didn’t know about the byler part of the finale until the final table read. He spoiled things twice before and they didn’t trust him to not do it again. Which was justified because he literally spoiled byler endgame in the last interview I mentioned. Dude can’t keep quiet. I’m sure he has believed he was telling the truth every time.

Most of the cast probably didn’t know until the final table read. If the season is written the way I think will be: we watch Mike over several episodes realize he’s fallen out of love with Eleven and find the courage to admit he loves Will (because man it’s so obvious). The only people who would need to know are Finn, Noah and Millie if Mike and Will don’t officially end up together until the end of the season (doesn’t mean we won’t get a lot of great byler moments in the build up. They seem to be having a lot of one on one time in bts pics.)

Keeping Byler endgame top secret even from the cast makes sense to me because there are people (who I sincerely don’t get why they watch ST) who will refuse to watch the show if the final season is centered on a gay couple. Also, one of the most popular mainstream TV shows on the planet ending this way will be talked about for years and have a huge impact.

Sometimes doing what the fans are begging for isn’t cheap “fan service.” It’s having the common sense and humility listen to thousands of people who love your show and admit Mike’s character was going in the wrong direction.

For fans of Avatar the Last Airbender: creators Brian and Mike originally planned for Toph to be male. Their head writer Aaron Ehasz suggested making her a girl, which they initially resisted. Then they rolled all of the qualities of the tough guy they originally planned into a twelve year old girl. They later had a lot of boys come up to them saying Toph was their favorite character. They said “Sometimes it’s more satisfying to be wrong than to be right.”

Personal take: there’s no reason to be upset at the original plan because they made the right call in the end.

I know it’s important to some people for byler to be the plan all along. And maybe it was, I have no way of knowing. But all I personally need is for them to do right by Will and Mike as characters.

EDIT:

because people were asking here's the link to the recent David Harbour interview: https://www.inverse.com/entertainment/stranger-things-season-5-loose-ends-david-harbour

[rhiannonsknife]

thinking about sub!rhiannon tonight…

now that we’ve talked about dom!rhiannon, allow me to introduce you to: sub!rhiannon. i think this applies mostly to the version of herself from when she’s still relatively new to killing. a version that, after a long night out, just needs to fall into the arms of somebody who can take of her properly. sub!rhiannon who trusts you enough to let her guard down as much as this. sub!rhiannon who gets so whiny when she first lets you have your way with her: grinding her hips and begging for your touch the moment she’s got the courage to let herself want. to let herself be taken by another. she has learned to be in control of things, to take a life with one practiced stab of her knife. but with all that newfound control comes a longing to put it into your hands, from time to time. something about it turns her on so much…to be on the receiving end of things, to have someone’s full attention on herself, to be the one who’s controlled, in an environment safe enough to.

sub!rhiannon who shyly admits to a fantasy of hers once, half hoping you’ll forget about it and never bring it up again in the aftermath. sub!rhiannon who eagerly lets you blindfold her when you do bring it up again, because you’re attentive like that. she allows you to put the blindfold on, always checking in with her to make sure she’s as into this as the had hoped she would be -which she is.

“you’re still good?” you gently whisper into her ear from behind. rhiannon is leaning against your chest, a shiver running down her bare back.

“mhm, yeah” she nods, licking her lips in anticipation.

“can you see anything?” you question, running the tip of your fingers down the length of her arms. you take pride in the goosebumps that rise underneath your slow touch.

“no” she shakes her head after tilting it experimentally, testing the blindfold you’ve wrapped around her head. “no, i can’t”

“good” you hum approvingly and kiss down the side of her neck. her breath hitches underneath the firm pressure of your lips.

you keep trailing your fingertips down rhiannon’s arm, caressing the inner side of it, over her wrist, to where she’s clutching her knife in her firm white knuckle hold. it’s trembling.

“and you know you can stop at any time?” you ask, again. you’re just as new to this as she is, but rhiannon had been quite vocal about this specific fantasy of hers.

as if on cue, she whispers “mhm” and nods her head in the direction from which your voice had come.

you nudge your index finger between the palm of her hand and her tense fingers. like this, you ease her fist open until she’s barely holding onto the knife anymore. that’s when you take it from her. rhiannon gasps at the loss of contact with her beloved weapon. it is what keeps her confident, striding the streets late at night, eyes set on a potential victim. and now, that exact knife is in your hand, instead. just like that, she's passed all her power onto you.

you hush her and take it experimentally. she’s allowed you to hold it beforehand, of course, just to get an idea of the weight of it. to get a feel of the thrill each use brings to rhiannon.

your silence must’ve alarmed something in your girlfriend, whose head darts back to where she suspects you, quietly calling out your name. “i’m still here” you assure, as you gently squeeze her shoulder with the other hand. “i told you i got you”

rhiannon opens her mouth, looking like she wants to speak, but then shuts it abruptly when she hears the scratchy noise of the blade unfolding. she audibly gulps when you carefully guide her back until you’re both leaning against the pillows comfortably. with your mouth close to her ear all over again, you ask: “is this what you wanted?”

she nods in response, about to verbally agree when you suddenly press the blunt side of the blade to her thigh. it’s not sharp, nor is there any risk of harming her, but the cold sensation punches a ragged breath from rhiannon’s lungs anyway.

“o-oh!” her fingers tighten around your free wrist, her whole body tense as you gently drag it along her skin and upwards. like this, there’s no risk of breaking skin at all. you -being less experienced with guiding the knife- wouldn’t trust yourself enough to do that. not that you’d ever mean any harm, but even hurting her by accident is too risky for your own liking. and, besides, it’s not like rhiannon can tell -with her eyes covered and closed underneath the blindfold.

you doubt that it’s about that at all: about the possibility of causing pain. no, it’s about the control. control that’s usually in rhiannon’s hands at all times. control that she can only give up on when she passes it on to someone else. that someone, who she has enough trust in, happens to be you.

with that in mind, you run the mental up her body, relishing in the way she shivers when you press the flat of her knife against her lower abdomen, then follow the thin trail of hair all the way up to her belly button. rhiannon shakes in your hold when you play with her breast with one hand -gently rolling it between your index and your thumb- whilst the other carefully pushes the same part of the blade against her other nipple.

she’s always been sensitive there and so she cries out at the sudden cold, arching her body in a beautiful bend. you hush her and guide her back against you with the free hand draped over her stomach. rhiannon's muscles jump to the touch. each comes to her as a surprise, without being able to use her vision in order to detect any motion like she usually would. she’s panting by now and tosses her head back against your shoulder breathlessly.

rhiannon has grown stronger over the past couple of months: her biceps has grown -not an excessive amount, but enough to be hard to the touch when the muscles flex instinctively. the gain has not gone unnoticed; she could have her way with you so easily if she wanted to and yet.

yet you’re the one holding the blunt side of her weapon to her skin. yet she lets you.

carefully, in order not to startle her, you let your hand slide upwards, over the valley between her breasts, up her throat, before finally being able to hold her chin and gently force her to lean her head further back.

„look at you“ you whisper, genuinely mesmerized by the sight. you can feel rhiannon’s pulse racing underneath your palm, you can hear the way she’s forcing each breath to come from her lungs. with ease, you work the knife up to trace her jawline with its flat. she’s holding her breath, now, not daring to move in your grip.

once you’ve had enough of trailing the entire shape of rhiannon’s outline with the metal, you set it aside on her bedside table, careful to fold it beforehand.

when you bring your hand between her thighs next, it is your turn to gasp in surprise. she’s wet. she’s so wet, your fingers slide right through her slick folds. rhiannon is dripping for you...

[ninyard]

From the banter fic prompts #14 "who does this belong to" pretty please

short silly fluffy domestic andreil for you my friend! thank you for the ask <3

“Who does this belong to?” Aka the disagreement over sharing clothes sometime in the distant future.

-

“You are long past the days of being a liar,” Andrew was lazily folding laundry at the end of the bed as he insisted on continuing the meaningless play argument they’d started earlier. One pile next to him was freshly dried clothes Neil had washed earlier, the other side haphazardly folded clothes Andrew simply refused to fold neatly. “Admitting it to yourself is the first step.”

“I have nothing to admit.” Neil held his hands up as he sat with his back to the headboard of their bed. It was one of those days full of nothing but chores, the day of the week in which they had to force each other to complete the menial domestic tasks that kept their home running smoothly. He was trapped by the cat on his lap, of course, his excuse as to why he wasn’t helping Andrew with the folding. Both of them were comfortable in their sweatpants and pyjamas, and a record played softly from the living room. “We’ve been sharing clothes since my sophomore year. I’m telling you this argument is invalid.”

Andrew paused and pointed at the hoodie Neil was hearing. Neil took the strings in his hands and smiled, his head cocked to accompany the cheeky grin. “That is mine.”

“This is ours,” Neil corrected him, and Andrew shook his head as he placed down the T-shirt in his hands. “Not yours.”

“I specifically remember buying that before a game in New York because all the clothes I’d packed were too thin, and it was cold.” Andrew said, then re-corrected Neil. “It is mine.”

“So, whose t-shirt are you wearing right now?” Neil nodded towards the beige top Andrew had pulled off the floor that morning.

“My own.” Andrew said, nonchalant, knowing Neil hadn’t succeeded in proving his point. “Because I bought it without explicit intent for it to belong to the both of us. I bought it for me. You can wear it if you want, but it’s still mine.”

“Bad example, then, because I’ve never worn it.” Neil leaned forward and pulled a sweater out of the pile of clean clothes that he knew both of them adorned pretty often. “Who’s is this?”

“Yours.” Neil tutted in disagreement, and Andrew waved the reaction off. “Just because we are living this domestic nightmare doesn’t mean we have to become the same person, you know. You can just settle for saying you like wearing my clothes.”

“But I’m not wearing your clothes.” He folded up the sweater to help out, throwing it onto the already-folded pile. “That’s our sweater.”

“If you say so.” Andrew shrugged and threw a T-shirt at him. It disturbed the sleeping cat, who jumped off the bed and skittered away on the hardwood floors. “Who does that belong to?”

Neil held it up and looked at it. “Both of us.”

“That’s yours.” Before Neil could put the tee down, Andrew threw another, causing him to drop it anyway as the second article of clothing hit him in the face. “And who does that belong to?”

Neil recognised it without having to look. “That one is mine. I’ve never seen you wear it.”

“You are so close to getting it.” Andrew threw two more at him in quick succession, and Neil laughed as he struggled to catch them both. “Rapid fire. Tell me, Neil, who do they belong to?”

“This one is yours because it’s too big for me.” Neil held them both up, dodging another one being thrown his way. “This one is ours, and that one,” he nodded at the third one that had gotten caught on their headboard. “That one we both wear, so it’s both of ours too.”

“Yes, no, no.” Andrew caught them with a soft, barely there smile, as Neil hurled them back his way. “You bought the second two, so they’re yours.”

“But you love that one.” Neil gestures towards the one his boyfriend was currently folding. Andrew pouted, neither agreeing or disagreeing, even though he knew the statement was true. “You always wear it. Is it too romantic to just admit that there are some things in this life that belong to the both of us, together?”

“Our home does.” Andrew tilted his head back and forth. “Our cats do. There are things we bought as equals that belong to both of us. There are pieces of clothing,” he held up a hoodie as an example. “That we bought together. Although it may come as a surprise to you, the things you buy these days do actually belong to you.”

“Sure,” Neil leaned forward to pair together some of the socks that sat with the pile. “But normal couples share things.”

“And we do share things,” Andrew nodded. “My point is that if we ever had to go our separate ways again, there’s things you would take, that if I asked you right now who they belonged to, you would say both of us. That’s all.”

“Oh, so it’s like, you’re just covering your ass for when we break up, is that it?”

“I meant if you transferred teams, dumbass. But if that’s where your mind takes you, then maybe you and I should have a conversation.” Andrew said. Neil didn’t bother to argue and just shook his head at the suggestion, still smiling as he tucked one sock into the other. “I just don’t agree that everything we share has to belong to the both of us.”

“That’s your opinion. I just don’t have to agree with it, either.” Andrew placed the empty laundry basket on the floor and picked up the pile of folded clothes to put them away as Neil spoke. “But truthfully, you only think that because it means you can still say that you like how your clothes looks on me. I know that’s it.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Andrew tucked the t-shirts into a drawer. “Maybe you’re wrong. Usually wrong.”

Andrew knew there was some semblance of truth to what Neil had said, and Neil knew it too. They would argue about it again, at some point. For now, they agreed to disagree, and Andrew tucked away his own hoodies.

Neil put away their socks.

[concentrateandpush]

Request/idea fiction: an intimate scene of only the couple homebirth, where pushing is long? Thanks

We met around a year and a half ago and as a lesbian couple, nobody expected us to announce our pregnancy at our wedding which happened a year after we met. I guess we just both knew what we wanted and figured waiting would be pointless.

My wife is carrying, I’m desperate to carry too, but she’s slightly older and so, we compromised. What we didn’t compromise on was the delivery. Blair wanted a very intimate delivery, just her and I. I’ve given birth before, a long time ago, back when I was young and stupid but rest assured, my son went to a perfect home.

It’s 1am and we’ve just eaten our weight in pizza and spicy noodles, we’re watching TikTok in bed and Blair turns to me with a look of concern. “Lena, how much pain is too much pain for just a twinge?” she asks and I look back with curiosity. “I guess.. I mean-“ I stop and laugh “Baby, has it started?” I ask. “I think.. I think I’m having labour pains” she says nervously.

We didn’t want anything fancy, just the bath for water, the bed with a towel and the coziness of our cottage.

“Okay, you’re okay” I nod “let me get you a hot water bottle and I’ll get you comfortable” I smile reassuringly. “Don’t you dare leave me” she says stubbornly and I roll my eyes “come here” I whisper as she rests her head on my chest, whimpering quietly. “Shh, shh, shh” I whisper “you’re okay, everything is going smoothly” I add.

The contractions are dull and achy but I see the struggle she’s having, so at around 4am, I suggest us both sleeping, which at first, she absolutely refuses to try, but after a few back and foot rubbies, she agrees.

It’s not until 10.30am that I wake to her rubbing her belly in her sleep, moaning relatively loudly, but not even waking herself up. “Okay, okay sweetheart..” I nod and take over the rubbing as she opens her eyes slowly. “You’re doing great mamma” I smile reassuringly. “Mmm, baby” she moans “it hurts, it’s hurting me” she grumbles as she reaches down to touch herself. “I’m not wet, so my waters are still intact” she says almost trying to convince herself she’s got ages to go.

I sit up slowly and kiss her forehead before throwing my hair up and I climb between her legs, resting my head on her thigh. “You look sore” I sigh, looking at her tummy. She just nods before reaching for my hand “it’s coming” she whispers and I nod, stroking her thigh gently. She paces her breaths perfectly as she takes the contraction in her stride. “That’s right, in and out, slowly and gently” I nod. I can tell it’s intensifying because she’s moaning with out even realising on an out breath.

“Baby I need..” she mutters “I need to get in water” she says quickly and I nod reassuringly before heading out to run a bath. I know it won’t be long now, I can just feel her getting closer.

As the bath finishes filling, I go in and take both of her hands, steadying her before guiding her into the bathroom and lowering her into the bath. I take a cup and pour it on her bump, taking it all in because it’ll be the last time. “I want him out so badly, but I’ll miss this” she sighs and I laugh “you’ll miss the sickness? And the heartburn? And the fact I’ve not been able to touch your boobs for 9 months?!”. “Oh baby, you know what I mean” she laughs, knowing I’m teasing.

“Mmmm” she moans, going ridged “I..” she starts before humming a low pitched tone, cradling her perfect bump. “Let it out, good job” I whisper. “Ba-baby!” She screams as I see the water turn cloudy. “Was that-“ she starts and I nod “yep”. “So, my waters have gone?” She asks to clarify and I rub her leg, excitedly “mhm, baby’s coming”.

I find my hand between her legs and resting on her opening before sliding a finger in and grinning “sweetheart, you’re almost ready to push” I say, surprised. “N-no” she shakes her head but I chuckle “I’m here, I won’t leave your side” I say calmly. “You’re doing it, you’re bringing him into the world” I smile.

As she feels a contraction, I see her grip the handles of the bath ready to push and I rub her back gently. “You ready?” I ask and she nods before taking a deep breath and pushing her chin to her chest. She’s silent, completely silent, but focused and with every second that goes by, her face gets redder. I can tell she’s stopped pushing because she lets out an exhausted release of her breath. “Ngah.. I.. I can’t” she shakes her head and I reassure her “you can, you’re doing it”.

“N-no water” she shakes her head and I get up, slowly helping her out of the bath and back to the bedroom. Every step gets harder and as we get to the foot of the bed she stops “again” she mutters and I get down, letting her lean on my shoulders. Her legs shake as she gives a big, long push, letting her inhibitions go as she squeals at the end. “Good job baby, let’s get you comfortable” I say calmly as I lay her down.

“Okay, you’re doing well, we’re going to stay here and just work baby out together okay” I say softly as she opens her legs and I sit cross legged between them. “What if I can’t?” She asks and I give her a cheeky wink “if anyone can, it’s you”.

A few minutes go by and she looks up, her eyes begging for me to help as she grips the back of one leg. “Pull this back and push down for me” I say softly as I watch her begin to birth. She nods and grits her teeth as she bears down, her stomach tightening and her legs spreading further. “That’s it” I smile as the head slowly peaks, until she stops, spluttering and trying to get herself together.

I think it hits her here, because she starts to pant and breathe faster, trying to get rid of the pain. It doesn’t take long until she’s hard at work again, pulling both legs this time and scrunching her face up as she gets frustrated, pushing with all her might. “Why isn’t he coming?!” She cries out. “He’s coming, it’s just the staying that’s hard” I explain.

“Pillows” she says bluntly and I prop her up so that she’s almost sat with her legs opened up in front of her. She’s beautiful. She takes sips of water as she rubs her bump gently. “Ready to go again?” I ask and she nods, taking my hands and pulling as leverage. “Gaaah” she grunts before panting and going straight in again, trying everything she can to get the strength to push. “C-come out” she grunts through gritted teeth, pushing and pushing the hardest she can muster.

“Okay, we’ve got a bit of head” I smile “but I think we need to get some rope, you can pull on that” I say before getting a dressing gown tie and looping it around the headboard. “Here we go, pull, as hard as you need as you push” I say with a reassuring smile.

She holds on and waits until the next contraction before taking a deep breath and this time, letting it all out. It’s almost a growl more than a grunt, there are fluids pouring around the head as she edges our baby closer and closer, her lips going white with the stretching. “Keep that coming mamma” I coach. She takes a deep breath and screams as she pushes again, this time bringing herself to a full crown.

“Baby you’re doing it” I cry “you’re crowning” I mutter. She’s panting, wriggling in pain as she holds this giant head between her legs. “You see him?” She checks and I nod, bringing her hand down, letting her feel him as he enters the world.

She starts to get up and I know by her movements she’s getting on her hands and knees. “Easy” I remind her before she gets into position.

“Get ready” she mumbles into the pillow as I see her hand reaching up between her legs to keep contact with baby. The scream she lets into the pillow is so loud and I can feel the strength she’s pouring in but the head doesn’t budge. “Harder baby” I tell her and she cries “I can’t” she whispers. “Of course you can, try for me” I say with a little reassuring stroke of the leg.

She lets out a low, grunt that last forever and during that forever, the head pops out with what seems like litres of water. The panic and change in Blair’s breathing shows the effort she made and I just climb up to hold her into me. “You’ve done the hardest, baby, you’ve done the hardest bit” I say with excitement but equal amounts of compassion.

“Ready to meet him?” She asks me and I nod, watching her reach behind her legs and pull them back with a grunt like moan. “Work with mama” she mutters as she pushes. “Come on, puush baby” I whisper as I see movement. “Gaahhhh!” She cries out. “Baby, you.. you did it” I sob as I pick up our newborn, bringing him straight to her chest.

“You did it” I cry, just taking it all in as I nuzzle into them both. “I did.. but you’re doing it next time” she says with a laugh

[jammingjaem]

choose 5 moots! what do you think of when you see their usernames or when you talk to them? (i.e: the ocean, because—)

AAAAAAA WAIT THIS IS SO CUTE?? crying sobbing and squealing bc i got a lot to say?? i’m adding a song that also gives off the same vibes (imo):

@suzayaaa: the smell of a library. suza reminds me of the smell of a library because she feels both familiar and wise??, like the stories and knowledge stored in old books. i don’t know, to me, suza has a nostalgic aura that brings back memories of exploring shelves filled with adventure and learning. but at the same time, she also has a fresh energy that makes her vibrant and exciting, like the anticipation of discovering a new book. suza embodies the mix of old and new, just like the atmosphere of a library where tradition meets innovation? does that make any sense? so, when i think of suza, i’m like… reminded of the comforting scent of a library, full of experience and adventure. a song that gives me the same feeling is lovelovelove by yerin baek.

@polarisjisung: a getaway car. mei reminds me of a getaway car because she's comforting, like a safe escape when i feel out of place. her feed, profile, and pieces offer comfort, just like slipping into the driver’s seat of a getaway car. you would go to her profile and think that it’s like?? mysterious? but, mei is far from being enigmatic. instead, i think she radiates warmth and understanding. when i visit her profile, it's like going on to find peace and reassurance— not to be corny, but have you even read ‘bittersweet’ and ‘silent treatment’? get back to me on that one! anyway, mei’s presence is like a reliable escape route, always there when i need to find my way back to center?? a song that gives me the same vibe is disconnected by 5sos.

@lotties-readings: the beach. she definitely reminds me of the beach because her reactions and recommendations on my feed are refreshing and fun to see. i enjoy checking her profile to see what she recommends because she absolutely never misses. idk if it makes any sense? but it’s like soaking up the warmth and brightness at the beach whenever i come across her posts. i’ve never had a conversation with her, but lottie’s presence brings joy and energy, just like the feeling of an afternoon at the beach. a song that gives me a similar vibe is ocean by dept.

@00127am: falling in love for the first time. titi reminds me of falling in love for the first time because reading her works, especially ‘letters of my love’, gives me butterflies. an anon said that her writing is artistic and poetic (which i totally agree with). to be honest, it makes me squeal like a school girl with excitement. each word feels like a romantic dance, sweeping me off my feet. titi’s stories bring up feelings of passion and longing, just like experiencing love for the first time. with every word, i feel like i’m reminded of the enchanting magic of falling head over heels in love. a song that reminds me of that feeling is caught in your love by boys world.

@ghostofhyuck: a childhood friendship. cj reminds me of a childhood friendship because even though we may not be close, i feel comfortable around her as if we’ve known each other since childhood. it feels like being with her can allow you to joke around without feeling judged, creating a sense of ease and familiarity. the connection with cj brings back memories of carefree times and playful banter from childhood friendships. despite any distance or time apart, the bond with cj feels timeless and effortless, like picking up where you left off. with cj, it's like rediscovering the joy and comfort of childhood friendships all over again. a song that reminds me of that feeling is let’s get together by ateez.

[tyungelic]

Hi! sorry to hear that you're sick, sending you lots of health!

maybe you could do something w/ taehyun, where you're both college students and you both have your exams/finals. like late night studying, feeling safe and secure and encouraging each other, comfortable silence, maybe even at the library (which is 24/7 open, and they can overnight there)?

but completely sfw, and more like friends to lovers vibes or just subtle flirting?

omg this is longer than I thought but idk it's just an idea, and you're free to write however you want ^.^

thank you so much!! 🩵🩵

this is such a cute concept! taehyun would be such a good study buddy, he’s patient and understanding and i know that if you’re having a hard time grasping a topic or concept he would walk you through it or if you’re both stumped, you’d walk through it together until you finally have it down.

you appreciate his small gestures in particular the day before finals. you’ve downed nearly three energy drinks to pull an all-nighter. all your friends have fallen asleep except you and taehyun, you’re both sitting on the floor of your dorm room, notes and textbooks spread out in front of you.

you yawn and stretch your arms up over your head, slumping back into a hunch over your open journal.

taehyun’s small chuckle breaks your concentration.

“tired?” he asks, already sure of the answer.

“a little,” you say, making a pinching motion with your fingers. “you?”

“a little,” he echoes, a small yawn leaving his mouth. “can’t believe it’s almost 3. they stay up and game until way later than this, but i guess studying is where they draw the line.” taehyun motions to kai and beomgyu who are fast asleep on the floor beside you, using their textbooks as pillows.

you snicker, “they’ll be okay. we can always go through the flash cards when they wake up. as for us,” you leaf through your notes and find the next section to study. “we’ve still got work to do.”

“i think if there’s anyone who needs a break, it’s you,” taehyun says. “you’ve been studying nonstop.”

“we’ve been studying nonstop.”

“maybe we should both take a break then.”

another yawn leaves your mouth and you slump over yet again, unable to rub the sleep from your eyes. you give taehyun a doubtful look and he pats the floor beside him.

“come on, it’ll only be for a few minutes. here, i’ll set an alarm,” he picks up his phone and presses a few things, then puts it back on do not disturb.

it wouldn’t hurt to close your eyes for a little bit. you scoot over and sit right next to taehyun, his legs flush against yours, and lay your head on his shoulder.

“thanks for sticking with me through all this,” you mutter.

“of course. honestly, i don’t know why you study as hard as you do, you’re pretty smart.”

“i’ve done it for so long that i’m scared that if i stop, i’ll fail.”

taehyun snorts, “sounds like a curse.”

“yeah, it is,” you agree, voice still etched with tiredness. “i think i just like studying with you.”

taehyun hums and flutters his eyes shut, “mm, me too…”

you feel taehyun’s head rest against yours and your heart beats a little faster. the last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is the warmth of his hand softly against yours.

next thing you know, you’re startling awake, gasping as if you’ve just come up from underwater. your heart slams against your chest as you look around you.

the rest of your study buddies are nowhere to be found and the notes that were splayed all over the floor are right where they were before you fell asleep. you check your phone for the time. there’s half an hour before your final exam starts.

“fuck, taehyun, wake up,” you say, panicked as you shake him by the shoulder. he wakes up and looks at you, confused.

“hm? what time is it?”

“thirty minutes to,” you say, scrambling to gather your notes.

“where is everybody?”

“who knows? they’re probably—“

you pause as you look up and notice a sticky note on your front door. you walk up and peel it off to read it.

going out to brunch, text if you want anything

good luck with finals lovebirds ❤️

you roll your eyes.

“they ditched us to get breakfast.”

“you’re kidding,” taehyun says, his tone matching the disbelief in yours.

“what do you wanna do?”

“well, we can always get them for ditching us later. but, for now, let’s grab something together,” taehyun rises to his feet and grabs his backpack.

“are you sure we have time?”

“it doesn’t have to be a sit down meal. let’s just grab something from the lunch hall and go.”

“but—“

“— if you’re worried about the material, we have the flashcards. right?”

you swallow, but decide to push back your worries for a bit and take a breath.

“okay, let’s go,” you link your arm with taehyun’s and make your way out of your dorm together, making sure to pocket the sticky note that you’re sure beomgyu and kai thought was so hilarious.

[imclimbingthestairsoforthanc]

High Tide - Erestor x Reader (Prologue)

You are not as eager for some things as are others.

A/N: There is all of zero Erestor interaction in this chapter, but I'm sort of setting the scene for the story and character building. Stay on the look out for chapter one, and thank you for your patience :)

Taglist: @batsyforyou

Panic surges through your blood and adrenaline tilts your chin back, but you are not sure if it was to any avail. You gasp for air and struggle amongst the water, but you cannot keep fighting for long. Sooner or later, fatigue will take over and you will be forced to float until the water is so deep you have reached the limits of the sky and there is no air above the water for you to breathe and no room even to float. Then, the burning starts. You cry out for your mother, but she is already gone. You cannot see her through the thick waves. You try to find air, but you don’t know why. There is none to be found. There is that empty feeling in your chest that you get when you wake up from a bad dream and you feel like you have to remind yourself to breathe. Then, euphoria.

There is no sound, except for the chirping of the birds and the sound of your brother’s voice as you hear him tell your mother about the worm he found. You are not even one year old. You’re not sure what a worm is, but it sounds cool. The water is not as monstrous or as evil or as threatening. You do not have a care in the world. A knock sounds at your door. Your heartbeat hearkens to the sound of a rich voice.

“Are you awake?”

Just the usual sensations of your morning shower. 

“Yes, Glorfindel,” you reply, tying your robe and pinning your hair up quickly, “Give me a moment, for pity’s sake! You know we���ve got all of them we need.” 

“You and I both know that’s not true,” he says. You can hear his smirk, but given the gravity of what he said, you cannot tell if he is joking or not. 

“I’m ready,” you say, hopping out the door on one foot as you slip the other into your boot, “Which route are we taking today? East or North?”

Glorfindel takes a sharp right down the corridor, “First, the breakfast route.” 

“Y/N!” comes Elrohir’s voice as soon as you reach the dining hall, “I have another letter for you! It is a suitor from Lothlorien.”

“I hear there have been trolls coming far south–from the Ettenmoors even.” You leaned over Elrohir and snatched an apple, “I think we should take the North route today.”

“Agreed,” came Elladan’s voice. He began to speak again, but his brother cut him off.

“Will you not even read the letter?”

“Come on, Elrohir,” you replied, “We need to leave. The trolls are having us for lunch–having us over, I mean. You don’t want to be late!” 

Your horses had already been prepared by Elladan, who on any other morning would have been still in bed. Bathor stamped excitedly to greet you and reared his head once you were safely mounted. Asfoloth took the lead, as usual, until you were safely out of the house of Imladris. After that, each steed took to his own pace and direction, but none of you ever lost sight of the other. 

The ride to your destination was a long one, and after a day's worth of travel through thick forests and what felt like a neverending plain of land (even after Glorfindel assured you it was only a quick stretch of land), you decided to rest. It would do none of you any good to fight trolls half-asleep. It was a quick rest, no more than six hours, and before you knew it, you had reached the Last Bridge over the Hoarwell–or, what was supposed to be the last bridge. 

The air was quiet, but it was not a comfortable silence. The silence was filled with the whispers of evil, and the wind was no more than the hot breath of danger on the back of your neck. Above the trickling waterfalls and staggered stones, crumpled and ruined sat the once mighty stone bridge, forming a dam-like structure in the midst of the river. Glorfindel stared for a moment before running a hand through his golden hair and turning to the rest of you.

“It looks like we’ll have to find another way to cross,” he said as he dismounted. 

The rest of you did the same. 

“We could try to traverse over the ruins of the bridge,” suggested Elrohir, “If we send the horses home. There may yet be some good footholds.”

Glorfindel shook his head. “That’s too risky. We may lose our footing. We should swim across.” 

His words carried a weight that he had forgotten to account for. 

“We could travel west,” you said, “There is a bridge at the mouth of the Swanfleet we could cross over. That is a safe pass.”

“That is nearly two-hundred miles,” said Elladan, “It would take another three days for us to get there. We do not have the supplies.”

“East, then. We can go around by the falls.”

“But the terrain there is dangerous, I hear,” remarked Elrohir, “Even more so than crossing the ruins. Besides, it would take a force greater than the four of us to combat the evil that lurks in the coldfells.” 

“Are you sure it would be too dangerous to cross at the ruins? We are elves, after all. I am sure footed. I can cross first, and then I will tell you it is safe.”

Safe–what a word–carrying one meaning with many tails. Safe can be anywhere–in the comfort of your home or on the road with a troll-camp up ahead of you, if you are so lucky in your companions to have a mighty warrior, such as Glorfindel, at your side. But the truth is few care for safety; it is security that even the mightiest of elven lords chase like a babe after his mother. Security is the silence in the midst of war that closes the soldier's eyes and draws his lips into a smile as he breathes his last breath. Security is what the crying girl chases as she reaches for the surface of the water, but even as she finds a foothold on her mothers dresser and breathes the free air, she finds that it is not security that will keep the water from rising to the ceiling and drowning her all the same. 

“You can come next time,” Glorfindel said, grabbing onto your fidgety hands and staying them from twisting the ring around your finger, “When there is a safe way to cross. Besides, even if you’d make it, I’ll not have you fighting mountain trolls distressed at the prospect of…”

He trailed off. You said it for him. 

How dare he call you out on your insecurity.

“I’m not afraid.” 

Glorfindel looked you up and down like he didn’t believe you, but he nodded nonetheless. 

Elladan and Elrohir waded into the shallows of the water. Glorfindel followed suit. Your eyes darted between the pretty blue of his eyes gazing back at you and the same sapphire blue of the menace that lapped at your feet. The other three awaited your response as the water came up around your thighs–probably the deepest you had been in a long time–and they flinched with you when a clear mist splashed your face.

You looked down to your hips where the surface of the water teased you. It would have been up to your bed frame. The roaring waterfall you heard off in the distance was not the neglected running kitchen faucet in your nightmarish-memories, but you couldn’t tell the difference, and they were equally as menacing. Another mist wetted your forehead.

You paled. Nausea welled up in your gut as your heart raced and you legs raced to carry you to the dry and your mind raced with a panic that you’d hoped you’d forgotten and your six year old arms raced to pull you above the water.

How foolish of you to think it could have been.

[chaotic-dumbass-witch]

hey everyone. i don’t think i’ve said anything so far, but my beloved childhood cat passed away back in early august. she was 18 years old. she had a really full and happy life, she had a lot of toys and beds and blankets and treats and got all the attention she ever wanted.

i was with her the entire time of course. the vet had to give her some meds to calm her nerves because she was fighting them. i held her when it was time and stayed holding her for a while after. the family said their goodbyes too, including the kids. she got sick right as i recovered from a really bad kidney infection i got because of work, and i went through the options with one of our vets. i figured it was time to let her go rather than put her through a big surgery and recovery considering her age. she already had some other health issues, so this was the kindest thing to do, even if i had the money to go through the surgery, which i didn’t. there wouldn’t have been a guarantee of her even waking up after surgery. she was going through a rapid decline over a few days, and i couldn’t watch her get worse out of my own selfishness of keeping her with me. again, this was the kindest decision i could make here. our vet agreed unfortunately, but that brought me some comfort.

i’ve kept all her things and have zero intention of getting rid of anything. she was my baby and my only reason to live for most of my life while i was dealing with home life.

in other news, i’ve moved away from my relatives. i live with one of my closest friends now and we’ve basically become a “living room family”. i’m medicated for a bunch of stuff, including mental health, chronic pain, etc. so i’m in a much better space since moving out, both physically and mentally, other than being a mess since the passing if my cat. i’ve also quit my food service job permanently, and have less than zero intention of going back there considering how i was treated in my last few months by a specific coworker, especially during my kidney infection, as well as what lead to that infection.

this blog will go on, it will just be incredibly inconsistent in posting. i just wanted to give everyone an update on life.

i hope you all have good holidays, and i hope all your babies, human or other, are safe and happy during this season and stay healthy for a long long time. kiss your pets for me if you can.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

oooooooo wait that bit about the curse skewing time and how it was only 5 days 👀 I’d love to hear about that

OKAY. LET’S DO THIS.

so, my theory is that the curse does in fact skew time. in the movie, gaston says “maurice! i’ve spent the last five days trying to find you!” and this is the same night that the curse will be broken. implying that it’s been Only Five Days since gaston left maurice to the wolves in the forest. this, in turns, implies that it’s only been five days since adam and belle met. and while i am happy to play the Disney Soulmates card, and maybe it was five days, i have some ideas as to why it maybe felt longer than that.

firstly, and for some inexplicable reason this needs to be readdressed every now and then, let’s discuss how long the curse has been happening. in batb 1991, lumiere says it’s been ten years in his song be our guest. this, along with the ‘91 narration saying the last petal would fall on adam’s 21st birthday, has unfortunately led to far too many people thinking that adam was cursed as an 11 year old child. this just isn’t true! not only is it positively insane to think that an enchantress would punish a child that way, you really need not look further than our beloved boy chip.

regardless of how old you think he is, i would bet that majority of us agree he’s younger than 10. the batb 2017 script says that he’s 8, which sounds about right. but regardless, he’s very most likely younger than 10. now, if you truly think the curse is Ten Real Years Long, i want you to look me in the eye and try to convince me that a teapot gave birth to a teacup. CLEARLY, chip was not born a teacup. chip longs to be a real boy again. i don’t recall if he says anything specifically in batb 1991, but in batb 2017 he asks his mother if he’ll ever be a boy again! he knows what it is to be a real boy! implying he was cursed, and is trapped, as a child; completely destroying the idea that the curse is legitimately ten years long. much more plausibly, lumiere was singing hyperbolically, because he’s a very dramatic man!

now, i’m not going to make this a competitive thing, but batb 2017 DOES do a lot to fix this problem up. number one, the beginning narration gives no indication to adam’s age, or when the rose petals will finish falling. number two, the prologue actually shows chip sneaking into adam’s ball amidst the chaos, highlighting both that he WAS the same boy that you see at the end, and that he was in the room when the enchantress put her curse on everyone. and number three, lumiere’s line in be our guest changes from “ten years” to “too long” - further confirming my theory that he’s just lamenting the agony of their experience. he may not truly know the length of time it’s been, just that it has been too long for anyone’s comfort.

so now that we’ve gathered that time is already a bit funky, let’s look at this curse. the enchantress is one powerful lady. i personally think she’s some kind of trickster goddess of justice or something, who just goes around the world teaching awful, cruel people in power lessons. regardless of who or what agathe is, she is incredibly powerful. the beginning narration states:

“The prince begged for forgiveness, but it was too late, for she had seen that there was no love in his heart. As punishment, she transformed him into a hideous beast and placed a powerful spell on the castle, and all who lived there.”

she placed a powerful spell on the CASTLE ! as well as adam and the servants! i think that’s so significant. and it’s very clear that she DID curse the castle! it’s trapped in a perpetual winter, despite the fact that it’s june for the rest of the country. not only that, but you can see the way the curse affects the castle. every time a petal falls, the castle rumbles and parts of the structure crumble and break. the place is slowly deteriorating, the curse is eating it alive. given what we know about their perception of time, and that the castle was individually cursed, it doesn’t seem too much of a stretch to think that the castle is not only frozen in terms of weather, but frozen in time as well.

looking at this next part of the narration:

“As days bled into years, the prince and his servants were forgotten by the world, for the enchantress had erased all memory of them from the minds of the people they loved… …As the years passed, he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast?”

she’s so powerful she genuinely affected the entire world. or at least, all of europe. like, nobody is asking or wondering about the french prince?? no one is stopping by?? no one is sending letters?? nope! their minds have literally been erased. not a soul in france is wondering what their monarchy is up to. adam has been entirely forgotten. i also think it’s important to note the usage of the word “years” which she says twice. sure, you could argue that it is real years! because it says so! but honestly i think she’s speaking from the perspective of the cursed individuals, particularly adam. in both instances, adam’s experience is stated immediately after she says “years” — first, being forgotten, second, falling into despair. i would argue, then, that to adam (and the servants) it had simply FELT like years. not real years that the rest of the world would experience, but a terrible weight on their shoulders, a hopeless longing for rescue from this awful state, dragging on seemingly endlessly, too long, feeling like years.

my conclusion: i believe that the castle time and real time are not the same. based on everything i’ve laid out, it seems as though the castle is very especially cursed, and while it has felt like years (i honestly don’t think it’s felt like more than three or four. i feel like if you go any further you have to start accounting for mental age, particularly chip. but i may be getting too deep about it.) in reality, it may have only been a matter of months. what if that awful storm that led the enchantress to come “seek shelter” happened in january or february, and now it’s june. perhaps it’s been around six months in real time. but to the castle’s inhabitants? it’s felt like years. so then, if we can use this theory for a moment, perhaps belle’s “five days” at the castle felt a lot more like a handful of weeks, maybe even a month or two.

i also think this because the sort of rapport that adam and belle have just seems like they’ve known each other longer than five days. and don’t get me wrong, sometimes people have those instant connections. like i said, im happy to play the Disney Soulmates card. but humor me for a minute! they have their little inside jokes about romance novels and belle teases him in such a way that just exudes the comfortability between friends, not new acquaintances. not only this, but when they’re in paris, adam simply asks “what happened to your mother?” when belle explains where they are. this, to me, implies that he already knew her mother died when she was a baby. and, personally, i don’t think that’s something i’d mention to someone i’d only known less than a week. but it seems like she’s already had That conversation with him, and further, it seems he’s comfortable about the topic, and feels close enough with her to ask about it further! to me, the way their relationship is depicted, it seems as though they’ve really developed a friendship over more than a bit of time, and have definitely very naturally fallen in love within said friendship.

anything is possible, and this is all my own little speculations and ideas. whether it really was five days or perhaps more, it’s quite clear that their love is something quite spectacular.

[gunsatthaphan]

#I have a feeling that this is event might be the worst one so far lol - i agree. the spoilers we’ve gotten have made me - if anything less excited for the event. maybe it’s because i’m attached to a lot of the older established ships and i’d rather have gmmtv focus on them, but all of the (rather obvious) new cps, that will be introduced, made me go 😬.

i genuinely do not understand why they keep introducing new pairs IF none of their established pairs are planning to end their partnership. the success of their bls has been lacking lately because they keep going for the same stories over and over again (a lot of them only end up being successful because they put their most popular couples in those bls i.e. ppw or g4) and introducing new ships isn’t as easy as it used to be simply because the bl market, while still being a niche genre, has been so “oversaturated” so people can pick and choose. so we’ll see how this will go

i do hope for at least two or three gls tho because the girls deserve all the love

yeah we barely got any spoilers to begin with so either they're gatekeeping extra hard this year and are managing to hide some huge surprises or it's just gonna be boring as hell lmao.

I disagree about the ships, I do like the OG pairs but I'm definitely also an advocate for new ships lol. Not sure which are the "obvious" ones you're talking about, probably PP and AC, but I'm actually intrigued by those lol. And I don't think debuting new ships should mean the old ones should disband as long as they are comfortable, get solo works as well and the cp merch still sells which is the case for most.

But anyway yes, the BLs this year have not been good due to the fact that they keep relying on the ships rather than the stories which is sad in so many ways. They know that fans will suck everything up as long as it's a popular pair which is technically nothing new but it's still frustrating to see. Especially since I cannot comprehend what ppl even see in most of those ships lmao rip. I miss the times where they actually tried to stand out with their BLs. They're feeling too secure and the quality suffers.

All of their effort seems to be going into the bromance genre lately which is um. interesting lol. Both Peaceful Property and Highschool Frenemy, as well as their older non-bl hits are excellent productions and are popular despite not having any canonic romance and instead implications that are left to the viewer's imagination etc. And especially after the success of HSF I'm expecting more shows to follow that lead.

GLs are on the rise which is good so I'm expecting more to come. 23.5 was mid and Pluto has been amazing so it's a 50/50 situation rn lol. I have high hopes for "Us" as well though so hopefully at least gmmtv are shortening or skipping the high school romance phase for their GLs which the BL world still can't seem to shake even after 8 years lmao.

I'll keep an open mind for the event, if those 2 new pairs are actually happening then I would be excited, plus the newly fixed pairs with only 1 show (MilkLove, SeaKeen, GreatInn) will surely get new works, plus I would like to see more solo works for the other fixed pairs, not to mention more diverse genres lol ✌🏻

xxx

[breaniebree]

SNEAK PEEK! Chapter 22 - The One with Rampara

When they arrived in the dungeons, Slughorn beamed at them.  “Ah, my favourite Aurors!  Come in, come in!”

Higgins closed the door of the potions room behind him and nodded at Borage.  Libatious Borage and his wife, Lara, had rented a small cottage in Hogsmeade while they were staying to work with Slughorn.  Borage and Slughorn had both agreed that rediscovering such an important potion meant that they had a lot of work to do and were writing a paper together on both how the potion worked and its historical use, as well as using it in a modern way.  Borage had no plans of returning to Brazil until everything was wrapped up and Harry was grateful for the old man’s help.

“Good afternoon, Mr Borage, Professor,” Harry said.

“Ah, Horace is fine, Harry!  I’m no longer a professor after all.  I’m retired!”  Slughorn exclaimed.

Harry only pursed his lips.  He wasn’t quite sure he would be comfortable calling the man, Horace.  “How are you two coming along with the potion?”

Borage rolled his shoulders back.  “It has been a real challenge.  I regret having to ask you for an audience with Fleamont, but rather unfortunately it turned out to be useful.”

Harry bit back a chuckle.  Borage had sent him an owl asking if he could stop by to speak to his grandfather’s portrait, surprising Harry as he knew that the two men held a continued animosity towards each other.  Borage and Fleamont had originally met over seventy years ago when his grandfather had invented Sleekeazy’s hair potion.  A few months later, Borage published a book called “Have Yourself a Fiesta in a Bottle” which boasted its own haircare potion recipe.  The potion wasn’t even remotely the same, but it started off a lifelong feud of friendship and animosity between the two men.  They exchanged letters arguing over everything and almost never agreed on anything.  Lara and Euphemia however did become close friends and often mocked their husbands both behind their backs and to their faces.  Whenever Borage would publish a new book, Fleamont Potter would immediately read it cover to cover and then edit it, intentionally pointing out mistakes and different ways to brew potions and send it back to Borage.

Borage was well into his nineties now and still as sharp as ever.  Harry knew that calling him in to help Slughorn with this had been the best decision he could have made.  When he’d brought Borage and Slughorn over to Clevedon Court the other night to speak with Fleamont’s portrait, the two old men had been as amusing as ever.

“Hey, Pop,” Harry said, waking up the portrait hanging on the wall.  “I brought some guests over who would like to speak with you about this potion that they’re working on.”

“Guests?”  Fleamont demanded, his eyes wide.  “I’m always willing to talk to guests about potions.  As long as it’s not that damned — bloody hell!”

Borage smirked.  “Good evening, Monty.”

“Lib.”

Slughorn chuckled.  “Well, I for one am absolutely tickled, Mr Potter.  Big fan of your work.”

“He’s a two-bit hack,” Borage spat. 

Slughorn frowned.  “Well, that’s not true at all, Libatious!  After all, we’re coming to see him for advice.”

“Ha!”  Fleamont exclaimed.  “You need advice from a real Potioneer, do you?  What did I tell you, Fee?  Not as good as me, is he?”

Borage rolled his eyes.  “Well, since you’re so good, Monty, perhaps you can help us with this.  Horace and I have been working on a potion that’s come up in one of Harry’s cases as an Auror.  It’s the Melanotaeniidae Reflection Potion that was lost centuries ago.”

Fleamont’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Blimey!  Are you sure?”

“Oh, quite sure, Mr Potter!”  Slughorn said eagerly.  “We brewed it ourselves and did every test possible to confirm it.”

Fleamont looked pensive.  “What’s the concern then?”

“The time process,” Borage said.  “Now that we’ve worked on the woman who was given the potion, we estimated roughly three months before the potion would officially wear off.”

Slughorn and Borage took turns to explain the potion to Fleamont from ingredients, down to brewing options, down to the steps they took to reach their conclusions.  Harry got lost somewhere among the different variations of fish scales and freshness before he tuned in again when his grandfather spoke.

“Sounds to me like everything is right, Lib.  But you’re forgetting one thing.  If you really did all of that and got her heart beating once more, it’s not the Melanotaeniidae Reflection Potion that’s the problem.  You need to break down the resurrection potion in more detail and compare it to the makings of the Melanotaeniidae Reflection Potion and see how it all interconnects.  There could be side effects or things that clash between them.  When you add in the use of runes, well… blood sacrifice is a tricky thing when it’s used in magic.”

“How so?”  Harry asked, making Fleamont turn his attention onto him.

“Runes used in dark magic are different from regular runes and if they were built into an existing resurrection potion where a blood sacrifice was used and added to the use of the Melanotaeniidae Reflection Potion… it’s not so much the potions themselves that will be the problem as much as the blood sacrifice.”

Harry frowned.  “What does that mean exactly?”

Borage ran a hand over his wrinkled face.  “It means that we might have to start looking at potions connected to a blood ritual… there could be more we don’t understand there.”

“Wait, are you saying that there could be a potion that could help counter the sacrifice aspect of Zee’s condition?”  Harry asked.

Fleamont shook his head.  “Perhaps something that could help, but counter it… I wouldn’t bet on it, no.”

Slughorn, Borage, and Fleamont began to discuss the potions in more detail again.  They spoke for more than hour, half of which involved Borage and Fleamont arguing as Slughorn watched in amazement.  When Harry said goodnight to them he wasn’t sure the visit had really done much to help.  Getting an owl from them the next day asking for a visit was definitely a hopeful sign.

“So, what do you have to share with us?”  Higgins asked, bringing Harry out of his memory of the evening before.

[reyesstrand]

weekend wip game

thanks for the tag @welcometololaland (and thanks for thinking up this game lola!) @alrightbuckaroo @strandnreyes @theghostofashton <333

rules: list your wips below (if you only write one fic at a time, feel free to include future wips/ideas!) then answer the following questions. then, tag as many people as you have wips (or more).

1. wip list:

active wips: food fic

future wips: pottery au; aftermath of the solving of gabriel’s murder

2. which of your wips is currently the longest?

food fic, mainly because it’s all i’m working on ajdnskdn

3. which wip do you expect will end up the longest?

food fic will span from 1x05 to tarlos’ honeymoon, so likely this one

4. which wip is your favourite/the most enjoyable to write? why?

when it isn’t giving me a headache, definitely food fic. i love getting to look back at canon and extrapolate on moments we’ve seen (and include scenes we didn’t) focused on the idea of food as a love language. however the pottery au probably has the most little random snippets i’ve deposited into my notes app that bring some serious joy

5. which wip do you find the most intimidating to write? why?

pottery au, simply because full-on alternate universe fics are kind of out of my wheelhouse, even though i love reading them

6. which wip do you experience the most self-doubt about? why?

probably the gabriel murder aftermath fic, because i have a very clear idea of the sort of tone i want to develop through the story and worry about perfecting it

7. which of your wips will you seek out a beta/sensitivity reader for? why?

food fic will have a beta (if they still want to even though they offered truly six months ago 😭😭😭😭😭😭) and i’m grateful because this i’m pretty sure the fic will be 20k+ and having a pair of skilled eyes look it over will be so helpful.

8. have any of your wips been struck by the curse of writer’s block?

…….have i mentioned i started food fic six months ago 🧍‍♂️

9. which wip has your favourite oc? tell us about them?

i’m very boring and unfortunately don’t have any at the moment!! hopefully some will come to fruition with pottery au once i actually try tackling it

10. which wip is the sexiest?

food fic, because cooking is sexy and tk and carlos agree and also because it has the only real “explicit” sex i’ve written. HOWEVER….i would be amiss not to mention pottery au, where the moodboard centred around this photo:

11. which wip is the angstiest?

probably will be the gabriel murder aftermath fic….shes gonna be moody!!! but also food fic has a lot of the boys and their unhealthy coping mechanisms. so both?

12. which wip has the best characterization (in your humble opinion)?

i’m going to say food fic only because i’m writing from a place of knowing the entirety of canon so far, and can use that to go back and write them as their baby season one selves. also, since it’s fairly introspective for both of them, i think this is my clear answer

13. which wip has the best scene setting (in your humble opinion)?

i’m….going to say all three, in their varying states of completion. it’s something i feel most comfortable with as a writer and i think it’s something i tap into easily, and i think each has examples of this

14. which wip have you worked the hardest on?

food fic. it’s kind of become my baby

15. which wip do you have the highest expectations for? why?

….food fic, only because i’ve been working on it for so long and it’ll be the first thing i post since may. so. i feel a lot of pressure to make it “right”

16. do you dream about any of your wips?

only if i’ve been writing/plotting right before bed

17. do any of your wips have particular complexities that your other fics don’t?

hm….i guess food fic only since it’s truly following the whole development of a relationship, and trying to capture where they’d be emotionally at a certain moment in the grand scheme of things is complex. pottery au also fits here, though, since i know it’ll need some planning that i don’t always think about, since i tend to write canon compliant as opposed to au fics

18. which wip is the funniest or has the most humour?

i don’t think i’m very good at humour 😭😭😭 but i think most light-hearted, maybe, would be pottery au? food fic has some bright spots too, though

19. do any of your wips contain outside povs or a deep dive on a character other than the main ship? how are you finding that process?

ooh okay, so there’s at least one instance of this in food fic where we see owen observing the boys, and it’s something i love tapping into because thinking about owen with his boys always makes me 🥺🥺🥺 like he’s just so happy for them and sees their love for what it is and i enjoy whenever i can explore that, even if only for a few paragraphs. i think gabriel aftermath will explore more of gabriel/his relationship with carlos in SOME capacity, though i truly haven’t even explored it yet. it makes me excited though!! introspection is my favourite <3

20. tell us one thing we don’t know about one or more of your wips.

hmmmmmm i’d say that food fic was originally a 5+1, then a 7+1, but i couldn’t figure out what the “+1” would be/how i would phrase it, and i decided i liked connected vignettes following the trajectory of their relationship better. also that seeing a singular photo of ceramics on pinterest inspired the pottery au….tarlos brainrot will always take over at the most random times!

((sorry for not following the rules here)) i’m no pressure tagging @carlos-in-glasses @birdclowns @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @paperstorm @heartstringsduet @rmd-writes @louis-ii-reyes-strand @carlos-tk @redshirt2 @tailoredshirt @beautifulhigh and open tagging whoever would like to play <333