#granted i had my old blog for close to a year

[macfrog]

call me

idea came to me in a dream. enjoy also! i made a notifs blog! taglist life is NOT for me, babies. feel free to head on over, follow and turn notifs on to be updated anytime i post! 👉 @macfroglets 👈 you’re gonna wanna do it before this sunday…😉🤠

inspired by @bageldaddy who is the author of the dreamiest series on this site, my biggest crush, and also told me not to tag her but i respect my elders so.

pairing: joel miller x call girl!reader

summary: you moonlight as a call girl, receiving mediocre call after mediocre call. one night, one joel miller dials in, and grants you the most exciting ten minutes of your career

warnings: 18+ (minors dni!!!) this fic is pro-sex work. reader is a phone sex operator, mentions of anal and oral, dirty talk, couple mentions of daddy, praise kink, mutual masturbation, alcohol consumption, cursing

word count: 3k

main masterlist

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb. “You’re gonna touch yourself.” “That what you want?” “’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

It started out as a joke, if you’re being honest.

A wine-drunk night with Liv, sat at opposite ends of the couch, legs intertwined somewhere in the middle of the cushions. Her blouse was stained pink – your fault, apparently, for making her laugh too hard. Her glass tilted a fraction too far and before you knew it, you owed her a new shirt.

“Say it again, say it how he said it,” she snorted, patting her chest down with the damp towel you’d handed her.

“…quite frankly, disappointed with your performance,” your head tilted back and forth, mocking the nasally voice of your fifty-one-year-old, receding-hairline-equipped boss. Ex-boss. Asshole.

“Oh, fuck,” she heaved, still catching her breath. “That’s so fucking funny.”

You sighed in agreement.

“So…what are you actually gonna do now?”

You shrugged. “Sell my body.”

“Dare you.”

“I would.”

“I know you would. And you’d be good at it, too. ‘s why I’m telling you to do it.”

You kicked her ankle. “I got bills to pay, dude.”

“What about one of those call girls?”

And, well. That was that.

You’d googled it after seeing her off to her own apartment, watching her wobbly form stagger across the hall and stab her key a few times into the wood before it landed in the lock. The door closed with an accidental slam which echoed up the stone stairwell, and you crept back to your own place.

Palms either side of your laptop on the counter, face lit in a blue glow, dripdripdrip of your busted tap echoing around your dark kitchen. They asked for an email address – you used the one you’d made up before you realized email addresses were permanent – and a phone number. Said someone would call you to discuss it. You shrugged, hit Sign up and went to bed.

Within hours, you’d spoken to some sharp-accented woman who asked quick, snappy questions and uhuhed her way through your answers. Her name was Erica. She told you she’d look after you, told you to call her with any questions or concerns you had.

All she wanted from you were the basics: you liked sex, you masturbated, you knew how to dirty talk. You sorta knew your way around things like anal, and could manage a convincing pitch for things of a more…exploratory nature.

And then she asked when you wanted to start. You told her that night.

Your first caller – like, ever – was some guy with a midwestern accent who asked you to narrate fucking him. Like, spanking him with a paddle, calling him a bad, bad boy. You threw your nerves to the wind and went along with it, and honestly, had a pretty rad time. He was cool.

But one was enough for your first night. You logged out and went to bed. You told Liv the next morning, and she punched your arm a little too hard and yelled, That’s my fuckin’ girl! Was it hot? Did you…y’know?

No. You never get that lucky. Some calls you can lie idly on your couch and let your limp hand surf beneath the hem of your underwear, push lazy circles against your clit as the dude moans in your ear or gasps when you whine.

Sometimes their mics can pick up the faint sound of them jacking off, and your brain slips you an image that makes your stomach flutter. Sometimes you’ll hang up and take yourself the whole nine yards with your laptop sitting on your mattress, porn on the screen, and your vibrator between your open legs.

It’s pretty intense work. Sometimes.

But all in all: no. You never…y’know.

One week in, you were cooking dinner whilst telling Trevor – thirty-nine, Buffalo, New York – how you’d take his huge, throbbing dick in your throat and let him fuck it. He asked to hear how turned on you were, just talking about it. You lowered your phone down to the pot of macaroni and gave it a stir.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned down the line, “you’re so fuckin’ wet right now, huh?”

Huh.

Tonight, you had pizza rolls. Less sexy.

You just got off another call. Thirty minutes of describing how good you’d take him up your ass. You’re bored, turned off by this point, and tired. It’s almost 3AM.

You pace around your apartment, flicking switches off and tossing cushions back into place. Spilling small sips of wine from your glass onto your tongue as you’re plunged into darkness, one click at a time.

You don’t get much while the sun’s up. Most days, nothing at all. That works for you, though. You can run errands, grab groceries, do sweet-fucking-nothing whilst waiting for the influx of calls that will inevitably come your way by nightfall. When the streetlights come on, the rush hour traffic dies out front, the shuffling of tired feet up the concrete staircase outside your front door slows down – you just log in, and your cell will eventually start to ring.

Your cell, which now lies wedged between the couch cushions. You notice the sound of it vibrating as you’re pulling your curtains closed. Half-way shut, you desert them and wander over. Intrigued.

No Caller ID. The usual. You swipe right. The robotic voice tells you there’s a request on your account for a ten-minute call. Tells you to dial 1 to accept, or hang up.

Ten minutes? At three in the morning?

Usually, at this time of night, they’re longer. They’re drunk, or their partner finally fell asleep, or they just want your attention for a bit. See them through the uncomfortably quiet night.

But ten fucking minutes?

Ten minutes would make you somewhere around thirty-five dollars. They had the option as the timer ran out to extend the call, if they wanted. Most of them did. And that worked fine for you.

You’re unemployed. Who knows what money you’ll have in a week’s time? An extra thirty bucks – probably more – right before bed? A little nightcap?

You dial in and answer the call.

He doesn’t say anything when it connects. You hear the ruffling of clothes.

Your voice naturally dips a couple octaves, coats in something smooth and husky. Glistening, gleaming, sex-driven. “Hello?”

He clears his throat. His voice is deep, rich. More vibration than speech. He speaks with a Southern drawl, like bare skin running over silken sheets. It’s smooth, and sensual, and sexy. “Evenin’.”

You knock the last light switch off with your hip and doddle through to your bedroom. Mornin’, actually. “Hi. What’re you after, baby?”

He takes a beat to reply. More ruffling. He chuckles a little before he says it. “Baby? That what you wanna call me?”

Your glass scrapes softly across your nightstand. You bounce down on your mattress, springs moaning as you roll onto your stomach. Knees bent, your ankles link in the air. “What do you want me to call you?”

“Guess we can figure that one out together.”

“Alright. I like a challenge. You wanna start with your name?”

Another pause. He sucks in a deep breath. “Joel.”

“Joel,” you repeat, thumb picking at your nailbeds. “That’s a sexy name.”

He doesn’t respond. Just gives a non-committal grunt, and a smile pulls across your lips.

“What are you into, Joel?”

He sniffs. “Thought we could figure that out, too.”

Something in the way he says it, the curve in the words, maybe, tells you he knows damn well what he’s into. What he means is: you can figure that out by yourself.

Like you said: you like a fucking challenge.

“You like nicknames? Daddy? That kinda thing?”

A low growl passes his lips. “Not this early on, I don’t.”

You know from the hitch in his voice that he likes it. That little catch at the bottom of his throat, the way the words stumble on their way up. Know you’ve plucked a string deep inside.

“Well, you know you only got ten minutes, right?”

“I’m aware.”

“’kay,” you sing, flipping your hair over your shoulder. You exhale, drawing shapes on the pattern of your bedsheets. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re thinkin’ about, then? What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Cowboy. It’s the accent. He sounds Texan, or something. His words float through the receiver all wound, coiled up and tight.

Joel doesn’t seem to care. He answers your question truthfully.

“Thinkin’ about what you’re doin’ right now.”

You smirk. Sometimes you like the attention, too. You turn your head, check the clock by your bed. Two minutes have passed.

“I’m…lying in bed, in the dark. Had a couple wines, feelin’ pretty good. But this is all about you, so.”

He chuckles softly. “’m lyin’ in bed, too. In the dark.”

“You feelin’ lonely?”

He takes another deep breath. You figure he does this before he gives most answers. He sounds the contemplative type. Always double, triple checking his sentences before he lets them go.

“Just need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“Okay,” you breathe, “let me. What do you need?”

There’s a long break between the end of your question and the sound he makes before he answers. You pull the phone from your ear and glance at the screen to make sure it’s still connected. Time says another two minutes have passed.

Joel grumbles. It echoes around your ear like thunder in the distance. “You touchin’ yourself?” he eventually asks.

“Uhuh,” you reply, nails picking at a loose thread on your comforter.

“Yeah? How’s it feel?”

“Good,” you mewl, tugging at the seam. Your teeth grit as you yank at it. “So – fucking – good.”

There’s another growl from the other end. It vibrates through your speaker, purrs in your ear.

“You ain’t fuckin’ touchin’ yourself.”

Your hand stops. Your eyes stick on the thread. “I am.”

“You are?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me how.”

You roll your eyes, turning onto your back. Your fingers play with the buttons of your shirt. Fuckin’ – tell me how. “I’m…” you sigh, “…I’m laying in bed, on my back. My hands are –”

“What you wearin’?”

“Isn’t that the sorta stuff you oughta ask when I first pick up?”

He speaks calmer. Clearer. You can hear the smile on his lips. “’m askin’ you now. What you wearin’, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. So he’s that type. Whatever. He’s kind of pissing you off.

“A shirt. And socks. And panties. No bra.”

“’n where you touchin’ yourself?”

You huff. “Between my –”

“Watch the attitude.”

You almost fucking laugh. Your breath escapes your chest in a silent burst. “Between my legs,” you tell him, flat and annoyed.

“Mhm. Above or beneath the panties?”

“Beneath, daddy.”

A tiny groan passes his lips. He doesn’t mean for it to, and a second, angry grumble follows, like he’s pissed at himself for letting it slip.

You take a lock of hair and twirl it around your finger, pulling tight until the tip whitens. “You touching yourself?” you ask, voice sickly sweet.

Joel ignores you. “Take it off. The shirt,” he clarifies, when you don’t answer.

You shuffle around a little, making sure he can hear the movement. You unbutton the shirt until it’s lying loose over your breasts, then tug it down over one shoulder.

“Alright,” you tell him with a heavy breath, laying back on the mattress, “it’s off.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and your eyes flutter closed.

“Mhm.”

Joel chuckles under his breath. “Know when you’re lyin’, angel. Take – it – off. Don’t be a brat about it.”

This is half the game for him, you realize. This is his thing. He gives commands, you disobey them, and he kicks you into line. Tells you to behave.

You figure you like it almost as much, going by the heat pooling between your legs.

Your shoulders lift and you tug the shirt over them, tossing it to the floor. You lie back, bare against the sheets, and your hand instantly cups over your breast.

“Better,” Joel breathes.

“What now, baby?” you whisper, laughing to yourself. You’re palming at your breast, your fingers pulling in around your nipple. Your core begins to throb.

“You’re gonna touch yourself.”

“That what you want?”

“’s what I want, angel. Do it for me.”

You don’t take much more convincing. Your hand slips down your front, cups over your mound. You gasp when your fingertips brush against your clit.

Joel hears. “Yeah,” he hums, “’s a good girl. Take those panties off ‘n rub that pretty little clit for me.”

Your fingertips give one last kiss to the fabric of your panties. Your mouth tips open a fraction. You suck in a quiet breath, and push your hips up off the bed. The lace slips down your thighs in one motion.

Joel’s grunting steadily now, small noises slipping past his lips and into your ear. You spread your legs and push against your bud again, massaging the sensitive skin.

“Fuck, Joel,” you whine, and he groans in response.

“I know, I know,” he’s saying, and you hear the metal tinkle of his belt buckle. The fraying sound of denim being shifted. One slow, relief-filled groan.

His hands are on his cock.

You’d put more effort into caring that he’s been fully clothed this entire time, if you could think straight. You’re applying more pressure to your clit, rubbing faster, harder, then letting your fingers drift downward, move between your gleaming folds.

“Wish I was there with you so bad,” Joel purrs, and your eyes flutter open.

“Yeah?” you choke.

“Yeah.”

“What would you – do to me?”

He shudders. “Would fuck you real good, sweetheart.”

“Fuck,” you breathe, fingers circling faster.

There’s a gentle tugging; a rhythmic breathing. The odd break in his voice when his hand tightens, or you make a sweet little sound, or he catches himself giving too much away.

“Fuckin’ – be all over you. Nice ‘n hard. You want that?”

“Mhm,” you mewl, panting. “Want it so bad.”

“Yeah, you do,” Joel says. You can hear the sticky sound of his precum, leaking from his tip and running between his fingers, being pumped down his shaft by his fist. “Feels good, angel, don’t it? When you do what you’re told?”

“Y-eah,” you whisper.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you picture a tight fist choking a thick cock. Picture that same fist unwinding, curving around your mound, fingers pushing deep inside you.

“Joel,” you whimper, and your fingers move down again, dipping nearer your tight, wet hole.

He grunts in response. “Don’t – not yet,” he tells you.

You whine.

“You got somethin’ else to use?” he asks, then interrupts before you can answer. “Yeah, you do. Go get it, sweetheart. Tell me what you got.”

“V-vibrator,” you mumble, hoisting yourself up and lunging across the bed to your nightstand. You haul the drawer open and sift between balled-up socks until you’re clutching the long, thick shape, fingers tight around the dips and curves.

“Let me hear it, angel.”

You click the button and the toy whirrs to life, vibrating strongly in your hand.

Joel hisses. “Alright, sweetheart, lie back. Gonna put it on that pretty little pussy, alright? Gonna make yourself cum for me.”

“Uhuh,” you murmur, one hand lowering the vibrator between your legs, the other holding the phone to your ear in a vice grip.

You push the round tip down to your clit and your head falls back with a loud moan. Joel sends one straight back at the sound of yours. It fades into a whimper, a desperate cry as you massage yourself with your toy.

Your legs clench as you dip it lower, letting the head nudge against your entrance, sending flutters of pleasure across your dripping cunt.

“Don’t fuck yourself,” Joel instructs, and your hand quickly pulls back. “Save it.”

This mystery man, who you’ve known for – if your clock is right – eight minutes, now; whose name is the most information you’ve gotten out of him; and whose face you couldn’t pick in a lineup…has such a hold on you, that your body instinctively reacts to his every word. An automatic reaction to do exactly as he says, when, five minutes ago, you couldn’t wait to get him off the phone.

You fucking listen to him. Save it for what? your head asks, and you ignore it. You don’t push the toy any closer to your center.

It drives hard against your clit, fast vibrations rippling down on the hot, swollen skin. It sends floods of warmth between your legs, drawing your arousal slick and wet from between your folds.

Your chest is damp, gleaming with sweat. Your breath cuts short in your throat, guttural noises replacing it as they reverberate through your mouth, across your tongue and into your dark bedroom.

Your walls start to clamp around nothing. You angle the vibrator so that it sends deep pulses across your pussy, shutting your eyes to picture Joel’s thick cock burying deep inside you as you climax with a loud, broken cry.

“Yeah, good girl. That’s it. Sound so pretty, angel. ‘s a good girl.”

You’re whimpering his name as you come down, holding the toy to your clit and letting your high wash over you. Your chest jumps, breaths heavy and staggered, gasping for air and then letting it rush out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“You know how good you are at that?” he asks, when your breath steadies again.

You giggle softly. “’s why I do it, baby.”

“Worth every fuckin’ penny.”

You sit in the post-orgasm haze for a few seconds, waiting for the room to stop spinning and your body to feel like yours again. You pull the phone from your sweat-stuck cheek and glance at the time. You have less than thirty seconds left. Joel seems to do the same, for his voice returns to your ear in a gentle, low whisper.

“Alright. Speak soon, angel. Be good.”

The call cuts.

----------

taglist: @slvbl @regalwhovianbrowncoat774 @casa-boiardi @msjarvis @acornacreacure @totallynotastanacc @alejaa-a @aphterthoughtt @pedroluver @earthtogrogu @sexygaypalpatine @cool-iguana @serenaxpedro @lizzyervs @bitchwitch1981 @brittmb115 @stormseyer @scarletthefierce @patti7dc @pattwtf @atticrissfinch @pascalpvnk @lizzyervs @jediknightjana @jessie8605 @iknowisoundcrazy @caitispunk @vickie5446 @mrsquill @uncassettodiricordi @gracieispunk @hellishjoel

(psst! after this weekend my taglist is no more! follow @macfroglets + turn on notifs if you wanna be in the know when i post!)

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #tlou fic #joel miller x callgirl!reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller

[accio-victuuri]

i know it’s early to interpret the song based on the teaser lyrics but with what we have, i think we can see what the subject and message of the song is. it is in the point of view of someone who appreciates everything that happened to them both past and present. and isn’t that such a good outlook?

wyb is not credited in the lyrics, but the composer is the same as like the sunshine. lyricist is dongyufang. but again, wyb definitely had some input and the song speaks to him or else he won’t sing it.

now it’s time for some clowning. you can interpret this and stretch it however you want based on every line but i’m just including some connections noticed by cpfs. 🤍

I love early spring and i will love late autumn. I love black hair and i will love gray hair.

the black and gray ( white ) hair in here most likely can talk about himself that he will love his youth and as he ages. it’s all good. but ofc the cpn spin is the contrast in their hair for a time. xz’s black and wyb’s is white ( chanel ). it’s giving the caption he used for his bday that he celebrate with xz on cql set ; that what he decided when he was 21, he will continue on till 81.

the white hair is reminding me of that old sus cpn and the lrlg that joked how xz is stressing wyb out with worry and he will have white hair because of it 😂

I love the wandering people coming home to their doorstep.

This is a line that i guess both of them can relate to, because of how many times in the year they spend away from their home. How they are both wanderers, but what he loves the most is when he/them gets to go home. No matter where they go, they will have somewhere to come home to. This line is also similar to LTS, where he goes — you’ve been wandering for a long time.

if you wanna go years back, there was a rumor that after the filming of cql, they had no contact but there was a sense of hoping to be with each other again.

I love the new and i will love the old. I love waking up from dreams and i will love daydreaming.

the love of new and old here is so romantic, at least to me. it may have a more general feeling in different interpretation, but to me, it’s someone who loves the relationship when it was new and no matter how long it lasts. wyb also loves to joke around xz being “older than him” but the truth is he really doesn’t care. if his comments about xz looking so young and how he doesn’t feel the age gap at all is any indication.

next is the subject of dreams ☁️

this one is the real hammer if you will. it brought us back to xz’s bazaar love confession and how he connected to dreams and waking up to it as when he found the one he loves. they are each other’s dream that has come to life. 😭😭😭😭 ( the bazaar confession is a pretty well known cpn so i won’t explain at length here. i talked about it before on my blog too )

I tightly hold on to the people i love. I love everything I lost in the past.

how he holds on to the people i love, which i think is very true for yibo. that he has a close set of people with him and his inner circle is trusted. but at the same time, he still appreciates those who lost in the past. again — very yibo. even if there are people who he had some falling out with, he won’t speak anything bad about them. and maybe if one day, they ask for forgiveness, he will grant them that.

i’m really looking forward for the two new songs! for his nye performances! the cpn we get is just a bonus! ❤️💛💚

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do

[blueparadis]

꒰ SOMETHING ABOUT U ꒱ ⋮ KAEYA ALBERICH → [ CONTENT & TAGS ]:fem!reader, references to canon divergent lores ( mixed with my ideas; nothing promising but i needed to get this months old idea out of brain so that i can focus on other activitis :">) , kaeya has obsessive behavior, angst, mention of prostituion, implicit smut. word count —2k // back to blog navigation. // beta read by my beloved ari @orchid3a . also tagging @kaelily <3.

synopsis:: “Beyond the sea, against the waves

where the sea and sky meet, where tides kiss the moon,

A protector shall be re-born, and Khaenri’ah will rise once again with retribution.”

Many grave and galant eclipses and solstices have been witnessed by the mortals, humans lived and died but the protector did not return. A prophecy that was made years ago has now made it to the front page of the newspaper with the headline, “DID THE GODS GRANT MERCY TO THE KHAENRI’AHNS ?”

A year ago Kaeya Alberich would neither have believed in this prophecy nor would have sworn to pursue the veiled truth and call it ‘fate’. But now, his ship sails across the oceans with him sitting in his personal chamber holding a brown paper, reading the same article that was published a year ago while a girl sleeps in his bed.

His million moras haul, alive and breathing.

Kaeya settles at the edge of his bed swirling the wine in his goblet. With your eyes closed, bosom rising and falling at a slow steady speed he thinks you look like one of those sleeping fairies inside those nyctinastic flowers that he once saw in picture-book when he was a toddler; he accidentally stumbled upon it and saw the wonders that belonged to the out of the word, this word— a child sitting at one of the corners of the library, hiding from the Archon’s wrath, hiding and protecting, hiding and fearing. He is not someone to put faith in the Archons. He does not feel anything about the mocking existence of the Archons, neither rebel nor rage; nothing. Therefore, must he be the one to go against the waves and wind, against the sun and moon, against the gods?

But if Archons were to really exist as people claim, then perhaps it was the Archons' will when his eyes fell on you for the very first time, on that cold night, on that dead island under an enormous tree as you were lying half-clad, breathing but barely alive. While his home was swallowed by the oceans five hundred years ago with no trace at the bottom of the sea, there was you, a fragile creature taking the last of its breaths. He found you in the exact same place where once he breathed and lived in the air of Khaenri’ah. Kaeya does not believe in the Gods, but he does believe in ‘miracles’, and ‘chance encounters’. Now he is ready to believe in some years-old prophecy.

A flame flickering to live on still delivers light.

The winds were treacherous that night, they were not howling like other stormy nights Kaeya had endured. There was an uncanny smell in the winds of the island, a smell that he can neither remember nor recognize, the mixed smell of something greater, something divine— like ichor, blood and bones. He could hear something eccentric too; He knew the winds of the sea like a caterpillar knows its fate to become a butterfly. But this was different, a foreign feeling. It felt like the wind was whispering right into his ears. He has never felt so hollow before. 

That was the first time he heard how hollow he was. It is like when someone was blows air through a hollow pipe so rapid, so full and so hollow that it is on the verge of breaking. Standing there in the dead of the night, with his crew busy at the shore decking the ship he could not separate between himself and those bullet shells that looted lives while his eyes glimmered at your corpse-like body in the pale moonlight, lips trembling and then curving into a crescent. 

The clanking sound of bullet shells hitting the floor, the sound of blazing homes which once were made with love and care, the screams of the dying, and the smell of the dead— he remembers it all. It might have been five hundred years ago for others, but it was still fresh as a morning dew in his mind. He can not forget. Every time he sleeps, he dreams of destruction and every time he is awake he vows on vengeance.

“Woah! Careful there,” Last time when Kaeya was here you had been sleeping. You have been in and out of slumber for a week now. He helped to restore your balance as you tried to wake up and stacked a few pillows behind your back so that you sit at ease. You do not resist, do not have enough power to do so. The marks on your skin are slowly fading, your eyes are now much more expressive, lips and ankles devoid of any fine lines. The only scratch on your body is on your forehead, a star, and a half circle at the lower end of the star. It is very faint now but its there. It was raw and fresh at the night when he first laid you on his bed. It seemed like someone carved it with a knife but there was no dried blood along the scar or anywhere on your body. 

Last month, precisely, a week ago, when Kaeya fetched a doctor for you from the port city of Mondstadt, Dorman, he did not mention anything about the scar. Even when he asked about it specifically, all he got was a laugh at its non-existence. But he can see it, clear as a day. 

“You are doing a lot better than when I first saw you.” He admits as you finally look at him. “Are you hungry? Last night you did not eat much.” It has become a part of his routine now. Being there when you wake up, helping you, telling you stories, taking you out on the deck, watching you from afar when you are awake, and watching you up close when you are asleep. He is trying his best to help you to feel comfortable as much as possible so that you remember your origin, so that you remember your fate, so that you remember what the Archons did. But so far you have only talked minutely about your home and he did not make much of it. 

“No. I do not feel hungry.” Your fidgeted with your fingers averting his gaze. Your attention falls on the dip created on the bed where he kept his hand to adjust the pillows. You gulp wetting your throat. “But I do feel thirsty.” You keep your hand beside his, an inch away. He looks at you, with sapphire-embedded eyes and then at the hands. His little finger shifts towards yours, slowly. You quickly pull your arm into your lap. “Do you think we can visit the port city today?” you ask hoping to divert his attention.

Last night he mentioned it and when you ask so eagerly so softly, his barren cold heart is set ablaze. You are now strong enough to pay attention to him. It makes him happy. Kaeya smiles looking at you before answering, “Of course we can. The others will take care of things at the ship and meanwhile we can visit the port.” He leaves the bed and walks towards the exit of his room. Before vanishing from your sight he states, “Get changed. I will be be the one to accompany you to the city today.” 

You have been living in his room, breathing his air, sleeping in his bed, and wearing his clothes for a month since the day he rescued you. Traveling amongst the winds and the waves with you has not been entirely in vain either. Truth be told, Kaeya likes your presence. Today he is finally taking you out amongst the people and needless to say he is not leaving you out of his sight. He is walking behind you while you are in awe, admiring the surroundings. 

You two stand at one of the shops as you ask about all the things and watch everything with such surprise in your eyes that it reminds him of himself when he was a child. He occasionally scans your surroundings, waves at the people he knows, and smiles at the girls he visited at the pleasure house. Those were some bright evenings he lived, enjoying the night at the pleasure house, fucking the girls till they fainted and disappearing into the sea at the break of dawn— the best he had of his life until . . . you walked into his peaceful luxurious life. He glances at you increasing the amount of distance between you two scooting to a side.

The crowd is slowly increasing and why would it not? Kaeya is here and word must have gotten around the town. He rarely visits port cities unless he has to collect hauls and buy some supplies in exchange for them. This was neither of them. This was a new thing. A news: ‘Lord Alberich is here with some maiden.’ It will draw attention more to him than to you. His smile fades away as he turns his head and does not see you. He asks the shopkeeper and he tells that you went towards the sea. shit.

The dusk is approaching and he should be in his room in his ship with you, not scouring the earth for you. Kaeya enters his room briskly with hundreds of thoughts running in his mind, wild and free. What if you are not here? What if someone recognized you? What if someone abducted you? What if . . .?

He sits on the chair with a thud seeing you on the bed with a new set of clothes, lying unconscious. He remembers buying you some clothes but not changing them. The clothes you had been wearing are neatly folded and kept on another bed. His eyes are still on you like a hawk watching its prey. “When did she get hear?” He asks as his breathing becomes even.

“About an hour ago, Lord Alberich.” one of the members of the crew answered. “She found her way back to here. We found her lying unconscious to the ground when we came to give the food.” Kaeya waves his hand at them asking them to leave. He pours some wine into his goblet and like always, sits at the edge of the bed but this time closer to your face.

He runs the back of his fingers along your cheeks murmuring to himself, “What am I gonna do with you… you are driving me insane, paranoid a bit.” He does not know your origin, your past nor your full name, nothing. Even though he is trying his best to give you the benefit of doubt, you keep thinning his faith on you every time.

He lifts up his head, his arm reflexively stretches towards the gun in the hostler. He presses and clicks open the safety lock and keeps the nozzle at your temple. Will you bleed blood or ichor if he hurt you? Will you lament or will you punish him if he hurt you? Are you here to kill him and his people? Or Are you here to help him and his people? 

His fingers move over your forehead, over the marks. He is sure he is the only one who can see your forehead scar. So he takes a risk that he did not think of doing it, ever. Keeping his goblet aside, his index finger slipped underneath his eye patch, pushing it aside for it to remove. There is it, his suspicion is confirmed.

As the scar on her forehead glows and his right eye does not sting or hurt like it should his limbs give up and he lands on his knees beside the bed. There he sat and wept like a boy while his ‘fate’ lay in front of him. How can he not believe what he sees with his own two eyes?

So many questions yet answers to none. But he is aware of only one thing— that you are everything that he does not believe. An Archon. A deity. A bane to his existence. But he refuses to hurt you. He refuses to become the very thing he despises. He refuses to let it go in with just one shot and therefore, he must keep you, tame you, and protect you. 

—

ik this has a lot of loopholes & might make this a multichaptered series but that depends on how well it will do :]

#kaeya x reader #kaeya x you #kaeya x y/n #kaeya smut #gi x reader #gi x you #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #genshin x female reader #genhin impact #genshin x f!reader #genshin x fem!reader smau #genshin smut #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x you #kaeya alberich smut #gi fanfiction #genshin fanfic #genshin fic #genshin kaeya #genshin impact kaeya #fanfictions #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic #gi kaeya #kaeya angst #genshin angst

[autisticlancemcclain]

my friend @beloveddawn-blog helpfully sent me a list of questions to help me get my creative juices flowing in this massive bout of writing struggles i got going on. ily mwah.

1. Do you prefer in-denial Lance or pining Lance? How about Keith?

basic cop-out answer but it changes from fic to fic. in a more comedic fic, i like to go for lance who is both pining AND in-denial, aka he knows he’s in love and is mad at it, or i like to make keith like so painfully oblivious to lances blatant PLEASE DATE MEs that it’s funny. generally tho i go for gooey whipped mutual pining.

2. Do you prefer Keith to be baffled by Lance's flirting or just baffled Lance is flirting with him?

baffled that lance is flirting with him. the I Do Not Deserve To Be Loved -complex is my favourite complex to give keith bc i have problems and he’s just so easy to blorbo

3. What's your favourite episode and why?

i’m gonna be so real with you voltron was so bad that once i finished s6 at like 15 yrs old i vowed never to watch it again 💀💀 six years later this vow holds true. however i remember liking the first episode, the mermaid episode, the space mall episode, and the episode where keith chases lotor in the black lion and lance is like dude you fucked up. dumbass. but he’s very obviously fond and he’s THERE and they’re gonna fix it together and that is the first time keith realises that lance fully and completely has his back. that is the moment he fell in love to me

4. What's your favourite character beat and why?

i don’t know what a character beat is BUT i am a lance stan as you may have guessed. interestingly, i used to watch voltron with my siblings and as with all character things we did together, we each picked a favourite and then only that one character was allowed to be your favourite. lance was picked before i could pick him but i got keith (and thus have the most merch of him). and honestly….keith is kind of my favourite i never stop thinking about him and also i write in his pov the most (granted, about lance lol).

5. What's your favourite line you've ever written.

oh that’s a hard one! not to toot my own horn or anything but i’ve had some stellar lines, at least i think. i have a lot of lines that are profound or whatever but to this day i’m proudest of the “i’m anaemic” “oh i didn’t know you had an eating disorder” line like i made myself laugh out loud 💀

6. What's your favourite fic you've ever written

eighty percent of my fics are my faves bc i write to indulge myself lol. BUT i’m rly super proud of my look so good longfic, i love the applebees universe, and the beauty and the beast au is dear to me. i’m also obsessed with this fic that only exists in my head bc i have typed nothing yet. it’s a theatre school taming of the shrew au.

7. What is your favourite type of AU? Do you prefer complete AUs (like BatB) or detail AUs (that angsty thing you wrote where Lance leaves after the game show)?

i love modern aus really. i’m a fan of the mundane. as a close second i like redoing movies/songs/books that aren’t usually au’ed. and i like complete aus WAY better, i just have trouble actually completing them 😭😭

#thank u for asking ily <3333 #if anyone else has questions feel free to ask #just general or about specific fics/universes #vld

[popculturebuffet]

So Let's Talk About Warner Bros Discovery Burning Down HBO Max for the Insurance Money

Okay real quick for those of you who don't know who I am: I"m Jake, I review animation on this fair blog sometimes on comission (which is open by the way) , and mostly just because I want to. I love all kinds of stuff from comics, to comic strips, to movies, and review all kinds in turns. I"m telling you this so you have full and proper context as to why Warner Bros Discovery's latests actions have been HELL on my anxiety. While this week has been a hard one for reasons that aren't your buisness, Warner just made it so much worse so rather than do three reviews this week, i'm doing two and this piece, outlying why I"m so nettled, why I no longer feel any security for anything warner has going , in production or otherwise, and why WBD sucks dirty ass in thunderstorms.

Let's begin with what's going on for those in the back who haven't heard: Last week Warner Bros Discovery made the earthshatteringly dumb decision to cancel their 40 million dollar Batgirl film, and not release it in any way shape or form as a tax write off as well as announcing they were canceling several other dc projects with the Arrowverse finally being taken out back and shot with the Flash getting canceled and given a smal lseason to wrap up (and Superman and Lois likewise detatching from said universe for it's own saftey), and just about every DC Project now in fear of being cut, paticuarlly the tv shows. The Flash MOVIE is weirdly exempt from this despite starring known human dumpster fire whose progressively spiraling Erza Miller. Granted they ARE getting help, so it might help, but it still feels odd to not drop THAT movie but drop one by people who have done absoltuely nothing wrong and is almost finished. And by odd I mean...

So yeah a 40 billion dollar diverse, great looking film is in limbo, any dc film that hasn't started shooting is in the firing range. While I do feel the DCEU badly needed an actual structure instead of just doing whatever movie without any real plan. But

Is somehow worse than no strategy. But there does seem to be SOME method to the madness here.. unfortunatley said method, as most perfectly put by my surrogate tv dad John Oliver "It seems like your trying to burn down my platform for the insurance money"

That does seem to be WBD's plan: Liquidate as much as possible, put as much of it as a tax writeoff as you can, and to hell with what comes next. There's no building going on here, just madly selling anything they can to make money. Which admitely I have done, I once had to sell off my entire 3ds collectoin to get buy, but i'm a 30 year old man with the body of an orangutan, not a BILLION dollar company that should know better. Even if Discovery is new at running this type of company, they seem more concerned with making as much money as possible and don't care if they actually surivive as a platform, if works of art surivive, or for anything other than getting a huge kickback.

And that brings me to today, the worst news in recent animation history. And keep in mind that history includes: 1. Disney cancelling the critically aclaimed and briliant owl house because it was too gay and trying to pretend that's not why they did it 2. Netflix's Childrens Content slowly collapsing into the sea with one or two exceptions. 3. Sex Monster John Lassiter somehow getting another job and a new movie AppleTV+ feels comfortable promoting. 4. The passing of Betty White, Ed Asner and Gilbert Gottfried

But yes HBO Max decided to delist a TON of his content. While ti hasn't happened yet and the backlash, and a recent blow to their stock due to this bullshit as a rare instance of corprate greed biting them, MIGHT stop it, it might be too late. The shows being chopped include Close Enough, a show they had just canceled a week ago and now decided no one can enjoy and that was not only one fo the platforms lead shows, but it's only adult animated comedy that didn't make people throw things at it on sight, Infinity Train, a show people were already mad was screwed out of more than four seasons, Ok KO Let's Be HEroes, one of the best cartoons of the 2010s, Mao Mao Heroes of Pure Heart which was stuck in cancelation limbo, and victor and Valentino, which I have not watched but is JUST going through season 3 as we speak. None of it makes sense, none of it is right and all of it is clearly a ploy to mak ea tax writeoff. And while previous managment had done this, there was a simliar incident iwth greats such as megas xlr and sym boinoic titan, never before has a company made material not only unavablaibe but so nakedly tried to claim something as a loss. I'm HOPING this bs dosen't fly in court, as none of these shows really are the net loss they thinkt hey are, paticuarlly close enough and infinity train, so none of this should add up, but i'm not holding my breath.

I'm also not holding my rage. I belivie in works being avaliable to people. Good or bad, as long as their not harmful , they should be out there and avaliable. Things should be preserved. And making it so several shows are just outright unwatchable, JUST so you can make money is one of the most greedy, discpiable, hateful and agonizing acts i've seen in some time. OK KO thankfully escapes thanks to being on hulu, but that may not be forever and they may try this shit with other platforms. For once most of these shows being on netflix in other countries is a lifesaver. And yes you can still find the stuff that's being taken on the internet, piracy can be bad but it can also be a way to preserve stuff, but I should be able to have a legal and fine means of watching Close Enough. I shoudln't hav eto scour for a show just because you want money. I'm still subscribed to hbo max as it's not me who does and it still has enough content.. but if they keep doing this scorched earth nonsense, it's going to leave them with nothing to sell and nothing to buy and no one to buy into thei rshit. and i'm hoping they learn their lesson and ease back before it's too late and one of the best platforms in the streaming wars is gone.

For now though all I can do is wait and hope like hell more things I care about don't die a cruel greedy death.

#warner bros discovery #hbo max #close enough #infinity train #i'm pissed now

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if this is ok but can I sent honmei choco to male Raven from the April fool’s day event ;u; (yes my thirst for Da Boi transcends dimensions) “Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!! Fancy seeing you here. I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you. I missed you more than I care to admit and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them. So um h-here. Be mine?”

This ask was an old one from 2022's Sweet on You/Love is in the Air Valentine's Day themed blog event! The idea was to send chocolates to your desired boy. I missed the chance to reply to this one for April Fools in 2023 so I figured I'd get it out in honor of this year's April 1st!

For people who are confused about this character 💀 There was a joke event called “Raven Redux”, which featured the reader (you!) being transported to a genderbent AU. A male Raven Crowley (my OC + blog’s mascot) then helps the reader find a way to their home universe. He ended up being uh... pretty popular?

Even if it's just for a little while... Let's return to that other world!

***Art is by tinyfantasminha!***

“A dream is a wish your heart makes.”

That was what the headmaster had told you when you came to him with your troubles. A gaping hole in your chest, a longing that had yet to be fulfilled. Crowley had looked at you with pity, warbling as he smoothed a hand over your head.

“Speak your most heartfelt dream, your wish, to the Mirror of Darkness, and it shall take you there… to him.”

Now here you stood before the portal between places… and worlds. You hugged a box of truffles to your chest and took a deep breath, squeezing your eyes shut. Your reflection rippled in the mirror—then wildly distorted once you plunged into it.

A sharp exhale as coldness enveloped you. All the air from your lungs expelled, as if you were screaming with all your might, even if no words ever left your lips.

Your feet met solid ground.

You slowly opened your eyes.

The attic.

You were in Raven’s attic, her nest, her humble abode. A place built of papers and ink, tomes and tales. But was it the right Raven?

You steadily approached the feathered figure seated behind the writing desk. Each step as quiet as a mouse. No matter the Raven, you didn’t wish to disturb their creative process.

They reclined with a sigh, head draped over the top rail of their chair.

That’s…

A cap of midnight fell over his haughty face. Dark blue makeup colored closed lids, decorative dots lining his lower lashes. And there, dangling from his pointed right ear, was a golden feather earring.

He seemed set deep in thought, taking no heed of you. Willowy limbs splayed out, his vest generously opened to display the rise and fall of his chest. Dreaming, perhaps.

It was as though he was a sleeping prince encased in glass coffin. Awaiting his special someone to sweep him off his feet.

It’s him.

You cleared your throat—rousing him from his rest. He bolted upward, swiveling in your direction. His eyes were wide with alarm.

“Raven-kun!! Hi, hello!!” you called out with a bashful wave. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You’re…!” He stopped himself, reining in his shock and replacing it with what he hoped was casual coldness. “What are you doing here, worm?!”

You giggled nervously. “I wished really hard to meet you again and I think my wish has been granted! I don’t know if you even remember little ol’ me but I remember you.”

“… By the Seven, you’re absolutely hopeless,” Raven muttered.

He drew himself up from his seat. You yelped, taking a step back. It had been too long; you’d forgotten just how tall he was compared to your typical Raven.

“My memory isn’t that bad,” he scoffed. “How could I forget the fool who dared to tread in my territory and then groveled at my feet for assistance? In any case, it looks as though you’ll be needing it a second time.

“Wishing to see me again like this, reliving that old story… You must be truly desperate, hmm?”

Ah, yes. There it was—his silver tongue, sharpened for use as a bladed weapon. A dishonest defense.

Your chest fluttered.

“I missed you more than I care to admit,” you confessed, cheeks warming, “and, well, I made these truffles thinking of you but not knowing if I could ever deliver them.”

You held out the box of truffles to him.

“So, um… h-here.”

“This is…” Raven hesitated. “A heart-shaped box secured with a sparkling ribbon, with chocolates inside… It’s the sort of thing gifted to long-held crushes and lovers. You… You’re not being serious, are you?”

But you nodded, refuting him.

“I’m totally serious about you, Raven-kun,” you declared, your voice trembling. “B-Be mine?”

Surprise flickered through his face. Subtle, fleeting. His arrogance then returned, an attempt to cover the moment of weakness.

“Hoh? What’s this? Seems you grew a spine since last we met.” Wearing a smirk, Raven plucked the truffles up. “It would be rude of me to refuse your offering after you’ve pleaded for my affection and traveled all this way.”

“Y-You accept them? My feelings…”

“I didn’t say that.” He waggled a finger. The truffles, shoved inside of a drawer like some treasure stowed away for safekeeping. “Sweets and sentiments are two entirely different matters. I’m afraid that a bird is never to be tied down—the sky always calls to it.”

“Oh.” You deflated, lowering your gaze to the ink-stained floor. “Th-That’s okay, I shouldn’t have assumed…”

"Don’t make that sorry expression,” Raven sighed, frowning. "Sadness is unbecoming. No one wears it well."

I despise seeing on you. Because of me, you're making such a face... and I cannot even bring myself to properly apologize.

His chest ached.

“Look at me. Hate me,” he had once written--the tale of his isolating curse. “It is a better fate than languishing in history and being forgotten altogether.”

Suddenly, the short distance between the two of you seemed like oceans apart.

He could reach out, offer his hand. He could blurt out all that was running through his mind.

I was so lonely ever since you left. Let's make up that lost time. Tell me about yourself, about your world. How have you been? Do you still care for me, despite going through all my vitriol?

But he couldn't. No, he shouldn't.

Raven sucked in a breath through his teeth. Dancing with danger, tempting fate. He would dare, this one time.

“... Come here.”

"What?"

"I said, come here," he repeated, a little louder. His arms were out, hesitantly spread just wide enough for you to slip in. Raven, embarrassed, hastily glanced away from you.

“I failed to prepare a gift to return the favor—of course, you can’t really blame me, can you? Your appearance was unannounced. Accept this in its place… one moment of respite in my arms."

“R-Really?!”

“Hurry up before I change my mind.”

You didn’t need to be told twice.

It was strange, shuffling into the folds of his arms. You had never been this close to him before—body and body, soul to soul. He smelled of pages and chilled rain, the darkness and the stars between it.

Raven was a painting come to life, speckled with intricate details you could only glean from up close. The curious twinkle in his eyes, the way his long, dark lashes flutter like wings, the pout to his mouth. From far away, he presented cool, untouchable.

Now…

He was strangely gentle. Almost vulnerable.

A bird crafted of glass, set to shatter by your hand.

“… Stop staring,” Raven grumbled. “I’ve told you before, haven’t I? It’s terribly rude. Not an ounce of good manners in you, is there?”

“Haha… No, I guess not,” you replied softly—noncommittal as you nestled snuggly into him.

“Hmph. Getting comfortable so soon?”

“Yup. Your feathers are fluffy and warm.”

A scoff. “… For what it’s worth, we can stay like this for as long as you like. Be thankful for my magnanimity.”

You smiled, and it set his pulse drumming. A new idea, born.

“I am.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst oc #twisted wonderland oc #sweet on you #m!Raven Crowley #Reader #self insert #twst interactions #twisted wonderland interactions

[chernabogs]

Hi, there 🌼

I saw the event and I wanted to take advantage and do my own:

GN Reader x Silver

Promt: if you tell me yours, i’ll tell you mine

Take your time and no pressure, your blog seems so beautiful to me, thank you 🌠✨💐

Thank you!

RESOLUTION

Inc: Silver, GN!Reader, Lilia (mentioned), Sebek (mentioned) Warnings: None save for a bit of post-overblot struggles WC: 2.4k Summary: It reminded him of the cottage he lived in with Lilia, and perhaps that’s why he never tore his gaze away from it once. He wanted that halcyon paradise to be the very thing he saw each time he closed his eyes.

There once was a gallery in the Valley, tucked away in a small village that lay nestled a few miles out from Black Scale Palace. The village itself is of a slow-living sort—people move at their own pace, most stores close by sunset, and the most excitement it draws is a yearly festival that he attends religiously for a peaceful break. The gallery reflected this sentiment. It was only one floor with paintings done by artists within the Valley adorning its walls. Lilia sent Sebek and him, when they were both still young, to this place with the instruction of sitting still and staring at a painting for an hour without breaking focus.

It was meant to be a lesson in resilience. Sebek lasted only a few minutes before he became fidgety and annoyed. But Silver remembers it as one of the few rare instances where he didn’t feel tired doing a task. He had sat before a painting of a landscape; florentis it was, with a blue, blue sky and the greenest grass he’d ever seen. There was an old brown barn at a slight angle on a hill with a bucket of flowers outside of its door, which had a window shaped like a crescent moon with a warm glow coming from within. A part of him wondered what the rest of the landscape looked like beyond just the snapshot he was granted. 

It reminded him of the cottage he lived in with Lilia, and perhaps that’s why he never tore his gaze away from it once. He wanted that halcyon paradise to be the very thing he saw each time he closed his eyes.

The gallery is gone now. It shut down a year after that assignment due to a lack of funding to keep it operational. He wasn’t too surprised to hear this is the case—a lot of things end with shuttered windows and padlocked doors in Briar Valley. Although the nation itself can hold steady in the international sphere, intranationally it’s a decaying cadaver of outdated beliefs and bygone days. He figures Malleus will be the one to fix it. He hopes Malleus will be the one to fix it. 

Someone needs to. 

With the death of the gallery, so too came the death of that painting within. A part of him mourned it for the sole reason that he wished to see it once more. That tends to be the case with things once they’re gone—you don’t grieve for the loss, but rather for the opportunities you missed leading up to the moment. 

Still, days continued in the end, and he soon grew from the enraptured boy to the individual he is now. The painting became a blur of colours and misinterpretations in his memory until it finally reached the point where he struggled to recall the original piece to begin with. What was the barn like, again? And the flowers? Were there clouds, or was the sky clear? 

He hardly knew. It hardly mattered. In a realm of over-blots and grief, the angle in which an old barn leaned was the last thing on his mind. 

___________________________

It was the summer of his third year that it did come back to him. Many things had happened in the past few months that sat heavy in his mind—the revelation of his bloodline, the consequences of his prince’s despair, and the pending departure of the man who he actually considered his father. It had been overwhelming to the point that he felt like he could hardly breathe. He had support, of course—those who had gone through similar circumstances with over-blots were quick to be by his side. The reassurances were effective in nullifying most of his anxiety, but a small part still held residence in his chest, gnawing away at his mind in the night as sleep, for once in his life, evaded him. 

He’s standing in the cottage with a cardboard box at his feet and a faint frown on his lips. From the kitchen he can hear something rattling about before a familiar face pokes around the corner. 

“How many mugs does he have, seriously?” 

You look despondent as you hold up three ceramic mugs in each hand, causing his lips to twitch into a faint smile. 

“Father is a bit of a collector, you know,” he hums softly as he looks back at the pictures in the box by his feet. It feels cathartic to be able to call him father in front of you; after the events of the over-blot, you knew the reality of their relationship now, and so keeping a ruse of mere friendship was pointless. “Which is why he assigned you and me to clean up this mess. If he was here with us, he’d be trying to stop us from throwing anything out at all.” 

Indeed, with Lilia preoccupied at Black Scale Palace dealing with the last few Senate meetings about the incident, now is the only time you had to clean up the cottage to a degree. 

“I’m not too sure. He seemed onboard with the clean up idea.” You come shuffling out of the kitchen with your own cardboard box which, by the clanking inside, tells him that you’ve stashed away most of the ceramics. “I think he’s looking for a clean slate as well.” 

Silver falls silent at that comment as he sets aside a few more old books and documents. It wasn’t just him who found some change in the aftermath—Lilia and Sebek had experienced flips in perspectives as well. His brow furrows slightly as sunlight streams through the window with flecks of dust dancing in the rays. Each time he sets a document into the box, more of that dust rises to greet the light. “I suppose so.”

He hasn’t felt tired since everything that happened despite the issues at night. In fact, he feels painfully alert as he glances towards you. You’re shuffling the boxes around by the front door with your own focused expression, trying hard not to bump too many of the valuables. 

“I think we should take out what we have so far. If we keep adding more, we’ll end up walling ourselves in, and then we’ll need to escape through the window or something.” You point out in humour as you gesture at the many boxes by your feet. He assesses the situation and then nods in agreement before closing the box of documents. 

But he doesn’t move quite yet. He can hear you opening the front door with a huff as you carry one of the boxes out to the cart beyond. His attention goes towards the sunlight, and he watches it embrace the hardwood floors he kneels on. His fingers go out to touch the spot warmed by this. He remembers many moments on this floor—from childhood to now. He remembers the voices of people he once knew, the scents that the passing seasons brought, and the anticipation of his fathers return whenever he went on his trips. 

Silver withdraws his hand and picks up the cardboard box with a sigh. This too, shall pass. 

_______________________________

He’s greeted by the sound of cicadas screaming in the nearby trees as he emerges from the cottage. You’re already gone, having set off for the cart ahead while he was lost in rumination on the floor. A small sigh escapes him as he follows your footsteps in the dirt. Your ability to keep moving ahead is something that he admires—and he’s come to rely on you to tether him in place, so he doesn’t keep sinking into the river of memories pulling him back. Gratitude is hard to express at times, and he wishes he could express it to you more for all that you’ve done for the entirety of his family. 

“Did you get lost?” Your voice is teasing as he emerges from the treeline. You’re leaning against the cart with your arms crossed, your lips pulled in a small grin as you watch him approach. He smiles slightly once more before setting the box inside. 

“Somewhat,” he replies, half in humour and half not. He pushes back the strands of his silver hair as he turns to look down the road beyond. It’s a dirt path leading towards the nearest village—and the second-hand store that these items are inevitably going to. The horse that’s meant to attach to the cart grazes mindlessly on the nearby plain. This, combined with the warm air and the faint scent of flowers, creates a peaceful moment in the swirling chaos of the past few months. 

“Somewhat?” You muse as you brush past him, nudging his side with your elbow before tossing a wry smile his way. “Try not to wander off—we need you to be able to get the horse moving.” 

Silver huffs a small laugh as he watches you walk back towards the cottage. His hands come to rest on his hips as he turns back to survey the valley beyond. The rolling green hills are familiar to him, as is the tree line, and he can feel himself relaxing further—

Before his gaze catches on a structure in the distance. 

For a moment he doesn’t focus on it too much, until it catches his gaze again, and he begins to pay attention to it a bit more. It’s a large structure that looks to be dark brown in colour and leaning on an angle. His eyes narrow, then widen in surprise, and before he knows it, he’s already setting off in the direction of the abnormality. 

Perhaps he should have waited for your return. Most certainly, he should have not left all those valuables unattended in the cart, even though only Lilia and him live out this far. But the lure of what he sees up ahead is far too great to ignore. It’s a barn. 

It’s the barn. 

He can tell as he gets closer to it. The bucket outside of the front door, which has a window shaped like a crescent moon on it. The flowers in the bucket are gone and there is no light coming from within anymore. The grass around the front porch is overgrown and there are vines now climbing up the sides. The structure itself is far more decayed as well; it leans heavily to the left, and he can see gaps between the planks of wood that comprise its body. It’s an old, worn being, which has withstood the test of time for far too long. But it still is the very structure that he saw.

He draws to a stop a few feet away as he stares at it in disbelief. Despite the changes, florentis it still is, with a blue, blue sky and the greenest grass he’s ever seen.

“Oh…” he whispers to himself. Suddenly he’s a child again, sitting on a wooden bench with his friend fidgeting to his side. His father’s words of resilience echo in his mind and a part of him feels compelled to just stand here and stare for an hour or so, drinking in that halcyon paradise until it’s all that he’ll see when he closes his eyes. 

He once wondered what the rest of the landscape looked like beyond just the snapshot he was granted, and as he turns, he finds that lingering question finally has a response. 

He can see the treeline and the edge of his family’s cottage just beyond. He can see the cart, and the horse, and you—trekking through the green, green grass towards him. You wave one hand, and he waves back, still partially in a daze as he does so. 

“Please don’t go wandering off like that!” You call out as you approach. “I still remember you telling me about how there are bears in these woods—you really had me thinking you finally lost a battle with one.” 

“Sorry,” he murmurs as he looks back to the barn once more. The sun makes it cast a long shadow down the hillside, exactly like the painting still. It’s so surreal that his mind is still running to grasp it. 

“Are you okay?” Your voice changes from teasing to slightly worried as you stop before him. It’s a tone he’s become accustomed to hearing from you—worried, caring. Your eyes betray that very concern as you give him a once over. He feels that familiar need to reassure you as he nods. 

“I am, I am.” He soothes you as his hand comes to touch your arm briefly before dropping back to his side. He doesn’t wish to overstep. “I just… wished to come see this building for a moment.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and he can see the calculating thoughts this withholding generates in your mind. “If you tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine.” 

Thoughts, he realizes. You’re talking about what he’s thinking right now. Another smile plays on his lips as he shakes his head. 

“I just figured something out, that’s all.” 

This comment is a gentle shut down towards you, and he appreciates it when you look at him for a moment longer before nodding your head. “Alright. Well, if you’re done figuring out the world's secrets, can you come help with the horse?” Another smile appears on your lips, and he feels a sense of warmth as he sees it. “I’m not ready to accept a hoof to my face just yet.” 

“I should really teach you how to handle horses.” He sighs softly as he gestures for you to go ahead. He hears you laugh as you turn and set off back towards the beast you seem to be struggling to tame. When he goes to follow, he pauses for a moment to look back at that barn.

A thought occurs to him then. Lilia isn’t much of a painter—Silver knows this from his childhood when he would recruit his father to colour with him, and Lilia had a habit of constantly finding himself drawing outside of the lines. So, he knows for a fact that Lilia wasn’t the one to paint the scene. 

Then who painted the picture? It’s just him and his father who live out this far. He doesn’t recall ever seeing an artist's name on the painting when he was young, but perhaps the memory was too far gone to recall. 

A faint frown plays on his lips before he turns away and begins walking once more. He supposes that, with one question resolved, there are still many more left unsolved. 

#twst #twst silver #thank you!!! #thoughts abt recovery from trauma and finding peace in change... #delicious #twst x reader #twst silver x reader

[tryingmyhand-atwriting]

BEGIN AGAIN 

Chapter One : An Unplanned Run-In

Notes: Hi, everyone (or no one if no one bothers to read!) This is my first ever attempt at posting fan-fiction that I have written, although I have been a reader of it for years. I’ve been in multiple fandoms through out the years but never had the guts to post anything out of fear of not being good enough or no one liking it but I figure - if one person likes it or one hundred people like it, it will all mean the same to me which is utter gratefulness that will swell within me. I am posting under a side blog so no one will know it’s me although I think there is someone who has found me (if so, hi Elise I love you.) Even if you hate it and it sucks and is boring be nice to me please I am baby. That is all - if you have made it this far I am grateful for that too.

Warnings: SLOW BURN. Hang in with me folks once we get to the good stuff it’s promising. Also, new writer - that’s a warning in itself too.

Word Count: 6545

Ashley Tisdale would argue that at times she knew her best friend better than he knew himself. Since the first day they met their connection had been instant and not even time or distance had proven able to dispel the friendship they both helped to nourish.

Not seeing him for three years didn’t change a thing between them and the older sister intuition kicks in when he’s over for the first time upon returning, meeting Jupiter in person now that he’s home, when he says, ‘Member Isabela?” And a lightbulb goes on over her head.

Ashley remembers a pretty, young eighteen year old interning for Austin’s personal assistant in 2013 to 2014. Isabela had been kind to a fault and so gentle as a person that Ashley–and Austin–had developed a protectiveness over her. She had fit into their group effortlessly and there was a close friendship that had developed between Austin and her. So close they were, Ashley would joke about being replaced. It all went downhill after the Great Incident of 2014 and Ashley never heard Austin nor Vanessa speak about Isabela again.

She exits her kitchen, resting against the doorway with her arms crossed. “Yeah I do,” she replies wondering where he would take it next. Austin hums but doesn’t reply as he continues stroking Jupiter’s back, the toddler asleep on the couch beside him. “Did you run into her or something?” She probes.

“Nah, just been… reminiscin’, I guess.” But Ashley knows her best friend, knows by the clench of his jaw and glint in his eyes that he has more to say. Things he may not want to admit or isn’t sure he should admit. “When Lydia told me she was stepping down after havin’ her baby I asked if she had any contact with Isabela but she said they don’t talk anymore.”

Ashley does a double take. “You wanna offer her the job?” She isn’t sure how to explain to him that if someone reached out after years with no contact , she would have a lot to say to that person. Granted, Isabela would never give anyone a piece of her mind but to save Austin from rejection she knows he is in desperate need of some womanly advice. “Don’t you think that’d be, uh–I’m not sure these are the right words but–awkward and mean after what happened?”

“It doesn’t have to be for the job, Ash.” Austin shrugs his shoulders. “With all these new changes in my life I guess I just uh–I know what people I want in my life now.” Ashley has seen firsthand what he means. While paparazzi had always been a part of their lives, the recent attention and invasiveness being introduced to Austin’s life was something new. A level of fame even Ashley hadn’t achieved with High School Musical..

Ashley had faith in Austin and his talent, even if he wasn’t as confident in himself. She could see his wildest dreams coming true but with Elvis, Ashley also knew he had learnt some lessons scary enough they would never shake. She saw he was frightened to death of being made to be someone he wasn’t, of being put on a pedestal and failing to meet expectations. Most importantly, Austin was made aware of how quickly people came around for the wrong reasons, ready to take advantage of success, money, and fame. Someone who freely gave loyalty and honesty expected it in return, a betrayal of that nature would hurt Austin the most. Ashley had seen Austin lose himself and have to find who he was again, but the man who reemerged was skeptical, with a new point of view.

“So you want to make amends?”

It takes Austin a while to look at Ashley, his hand rubbing soothing circles on Jupiter’s back. “More than anything I just wanna talk to her.” But she sees the longing in his eyes when they meet hers and pieces of the puzzle begin to fit together.

That’s how Ashley ends up at Chucky’s Bar in Los Feliz on a Thursday night. She didn’t tell Austin that she occasionally chats with Isabela over Instagram because she didn’t want him to do something embarassing like slide into her DMs with a lame greeting and possible emoji. Austin was smooth and charming in many ways, but at the end of the day, he was only a man and this situation was better handled with a woman’s touch. All it had taken was a ‘miss you! when are you free?’ before Isabela responded saying that this was where she’d be on her last night in LA before she traveled to Hawaii for a work trip.

“Ashley! You came!” There’s a girly squeal and arms squeezing her from behind before she turns to face Isabela. There’s a wide smile on her face and her hair frizzes with the humidity of the crowded bar. Sweat shines on her face, mascara smudged under her eyes, but Ashley has to smile– Isabela never let perceived-imperfections dull her shine. “You look hot.” Isabela checks her friend out with an impressed grin.

“I feel out of my element. I can’t remember the last time I dressed up.” Ashley giggles, taking in her surroundings. “I’m also scared I’m going to start leaking and ruin this dress.” She gestures to her enlarged breasts, made more noticeable by the deep V-cut of her dress.

Isabela lets out a loud laugh. “Some guys like that,” she whispers conspiratorially and Ashley slaps her on the arm. Isabela grabs Ashley by the hand and begins leading her to a table, “Come on, a friend saved us a table. Victoria’s got bar duty tonight but she’ll be checking in occasionally.”

“Victoria’s still working here?”

Chucky’s Bar brought back many late night memories for Ashley. There were many drunken nights spent at the low-key bar where Ashley, Austin, and Vanessa had never been recognized. It was at this bar where Ashley met Isabela and her tough as nails cousin, Victoria, who was cold the entire night and would only make rounds to their table to make sure Isabela was drinking enough water to go along with the tequila. It had taken almost a month for Victoria to warm up to the former Disney kids. Ashley was sure any kindness on Victoria’s part was thrown out the window after the Incident.

Ashley would have found Victoria’s over protectiveness creepy if she didn’t understand why. Isabela was sweetly naive, always seeing the best in the world and people around her. An innocence that had probably broken her heart more than once. It hadn’t taken long for Ashley to feel the same way towards Isabela, like she was a younger sister.

“She practically runs this place. Derek’s one year away from retiring and he’s already promised to leave it to her.” Isabela’s face beams with pride. As they approach the table she turns to face Ashley briefly and catches the uncertainty in her eyes, the awkward hunch to her shoulders, that only comes when someone feels unwelcome. Isabela reaches to hold Ashley’s fingers in hers. “She’s gonna be on her best behavior, okay? I told her you were coming and anyways, everything that happened that day had nothing to do with you.”

Doesn’t it, Ashley wants to ask. Guilt gnaws at her, knowing she was meeting up with Isabela for selfish reasons. To do her best friend’s dirty work, get him into contact with someone who probably, most likely–definitely–wants nothing to do with him.

“We talking about how Victoria breastfeeds you?” There’s a busty redhead seated at the table. She’s loud in her proclamation and beautiful in a sheer silver dress. She’s gorgeous, her hair swept back in an updo and her legs crossed, the hem of her dress rising dangerously high. Already there’s more than a few curious eyes glancing towards their table. She smiles at Ashley but it drops when she catches sight of Isabela’s empty hands. She guffaws, offended, “Where are the shots? You get up and come back with no shots?”

Isabela tumbles into the seat beside her, laughing good-naturedly at her friend’s offense. It was obvious the girls had started drinking before her arrival but Ashley didn’t mind; she was planning on an easy night. Hangovers tend to be a multi-day affair once you hit thirty. “Luis said he’ll bring ‘em out to us,” Isabela tells her friend before presenting her to Ashley. “This is the worst influence in my life and the devil on my shoulder — Ash, meet Sky. She was my college roommate and yes, Victoria hates her. Doesn’t give you any right to talk shit about her though,” Isabela pinches Sky’s underarm for good measure.

“I wasn’t talking shit about her, I was making fun of you. The pretty princess stuck in the tower–you’re twenty-six.” It must be a sermon Isabela has heard before because all she offers in response to Sky’s mocking tone is an exaggerated eye roll and a shake of her head.

“Don’t worry, Victoria hates me too,” Ashley tells Sky. “She’s just always gonna look out for Isabela. No judgments here.”

Sky puts a hand on Ashley’s arm,eyes twinkling. “Oh my God. We should totally start a club.”

“I think you two booze hounds have had enough,” a blond waiter approaches their table, balancing a tray of shots. He looks toward Ashley, clarifying, “I mean those two. Especially this one,” he shoves an elbow into Sky’s side, the woman yelping and returning the hit.

Isabela leans over to touch his shoulder, imploring.. “Luis, you’re just in time. Their conversation was sobering me up.” She pouts, her lower lip jutting out.

“You just don’t like hearing the truth–”

“Not you too!”

“Ladies,” Ashley holds up her shot glass and a wedge of lemon, a strategic distraction, putting an end to the conversation. The constant back-and-forth chatter is definitely enough incentive for her to break her own self-imposed sobriety. “Are we taking this shot or what?”

“I like you,” Sky states, preparing her lemon with salt.

“Wait! We have to cheers to something,” Isabela insists when both Ashley and Sky go to throw the tequila back. She purses her lips to the side in thought, “What’s something all three of us can cheer to?”

“How about this,” Ashley begins, leaning forward on her elbows, “Sky’s here for you and so am I. So how about a cheers to Isabela for bringing us together tonight?” Isabela flushes, her lashes fanning against her cheeks as she avoids eye contact, flattered and flustered all at once. Ashley momentarily feels like she’s kissing ass, knowing she’s still wrestling with guilt over her ulterior motives, but she isn’t lying about her affection for her friend.

Sky extends her shot glass forward. “To Isabela.”

The night is a whirlwind after that. Ashley remembers a Pitbull song coming on that had Sky pulling both she and Isabela to the middle of the dance floor, smack between other dancers. There was another shot–or four–taken and by the time the girls are dancing to the fifth song of the night, now joined by a group of girls they had befriended at the bar. Ashley has to momentarily return to the table, ridding herself of her jacket.. It isn’t lost on her that the reason for her random request of a girls’ night out hasn’t been brought up once, but she doesn’t have it in her to ruin what has been an amazing night so far.

She could always try again. Preferably when it wasn’t her first time reuniting with an old friend in months.

As Ashley saunters back over to their spot on the dance floor, she catches sight of Sky’s silver dress towards the bar with Luis, no doubt asking for another round of shots. Ashley hopes–and doubts–that Sky forgot to order her one, the beginning of a headache pounding behind her eyes. Isabela’s still where she left her but a man has since joined her. He’s handsome, Ashley must admit, and standing almost a foot over Isabela who’s lacing her fingers together in front of her repeatedly. She has a smile on her face though,so Ashley doesn’t feel the need to interject as she nears.

“You’re sweet, but I’m here with my friends. Sorry,” Ashley catches Isabela apologize, her lashes fluttering as she blinks rapidly, and her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. In anyone else Ashley would have taken the actions to be coy or flirty, but in Isabela she sees them for what they are–nervous tics. More words are exchanged and Isabela moves away when the guy places a hand at her hip. Ashley is debating on whether or not she should intercept and tell the guy to get lost, knowing it would be quicker than Isabela’s kind approach, when he throws his hand out beside him in a fist in annoyance before storming away.

Isabela stumbles back, flinching violently at his outburst, and Ashley’s beside her in the next moment, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Are you okay?” She asks, scanning over Isabela. She didn’t see the guy touch her, but Isabela’s response worried her, as if he did more than utter cruel words to her. “Did he hurt you?”

“No, no.” Isabela shakes her head and attempts a smile but her eyes are glossy with unshed tears. “He just got mad and it caught me off guard, I guess. I’m fine.”

“Isabela—” you don’t seem fine, is what Ashley’s going to say but she’s cut off by the arrival of Sky–who did conjure up another round of shots–and two blonde girls they had been dancing with earlier.

“I got us more shots, bitches,” she whoops loudly, pumping a single fist. She drops the act once she takes in the heavy atmosphere. “What’s wrong?”

Ashley hesitates. Some guy was rude to Isabela and she almost cried, which was technically true, but her reaction hinted at something deeper–although the man hadn’t seemed to lay a hand on her. What worried Ashley was the possibility of someone else having done so..

“Some guy was a dick and caught me off guard. Ashley’s never seen my freak outs before.” Isabela shrugs, feigning nonchalance and maintaining eye contact with her friend. There seemed to be a million words said between them but their mouths didn’t move once. It was a look shared between best friends with no words necessary.

Sky shakes her head, turning to Ashley with another smile and extending the tray of shots again. “Isabela doesn’t go out much, so every time she does she gets shocked at what big assholes guys actually are.” She said by way of explanation, handing a shot to Isabela. “She’ll survive; it just takes her a couple seconds to shake it off.”

Ashley detects the bullshit lie, but it isn’t a topic she wants to press so publicly. Instead she politely declines the shot, “I need water for the next hour before Ubering home. It’s Jupiter’s birthday party tomorrow and I need to be up early to set up.”

“Oh, no,” Isabela’s brows pinch and she places her shot back in Sky’s hand. “I’m so sorry, I wouldn’t have asked you to come out to a bar if I knew you had to be up early tomorrow.” She interlocks her elbows with Ashley’s, pulling her to Luis’s section of the bar and signaling him for two glasses of water.

“I’m a grown woman, Is. And lack of sleep is nothing new to mothers. Having a newborn is like a hangover that lasts for months.”

Isabela chuckles, sliding her glass of water over. “What a lovely comparison!”

“I love being a mom,” Ashley defends, laughing. “But it’s not as easy as people make it out to be. At least it wasn’t for me. I called my mom crying so many times, sure that I was failing or ruining this perfect little person somehow.”

“You’ve officially talked me out of ever wanting kids.”

“Come on,” Ashley rolls her eyes. “You put everyone before yourself; you’d be the perfect mom.”

Isabela shrugs a shoulder, her elbow leaning on the table. “I don’t know. Maybe. I wanted kids when I was younger, but the past few years have basically been about my career. One thing is for sure though, I’d want it to happen on my terms and at the time I’m ready. No time soon.” The conversation and glasses of water have helped both of them sober up and, for that, Ashley is glad. The room isn’t spinning as much as it was before. Now, Ashley just feels drowsy as the alcohol leaves her system. Isabela must catch her tired expression because she hums, “What time should I be at your house tomorrow to help you set up?”

Ashley shakes her head vehemently. “You’ve got a flight tomorrow, miss. You’re going to need all the sleep you could get.”

“I could sleep on the flight,” Isabela returns smartly, her tone matter-of-fact. Ashley pushes her knee, sending her spinning on the bar stool. Isabela continues. “I feel guilty I had you come out! No way in hell are you setting up alone tomorrow before hosting a kids’ party. I’m helping!”

Luis interrupts their conversation, throwing a rag over his shoulder and refilling both glasses with more water. Ashley smiles. “Two beautiful ladies like you must be starving. My momma always said the way into a girl's heart was through her stomach.”

“I think your mom had it wrong; isn’t it supposed to be a man’s stomach?” Ashley laughs, but she has to wonder because food certainly sounded like heaven then.

“Two burgers to go please and then an Uber.” Isabela shoots him a dazzling, cheesy grin, her cheeks dimpling as she throws a hand over Ashley’s shoulder. “We’ve got an early morning tomorrow.”

—

Waking up early after a night out is harder to do the older she gets. If Isabela hadn’t offered to help Ashley with Jupiter’s birthday party set up and have a flight scheduled for later on that day she would have stayed in bed nursing her hangover for the next forty-eight hours. The breeze is fresh as she waltzes up to Ashley’s front door to ring the doorbell. It’s early spring and as is regular for Los Angeles the sun is bright and scorching but the wind is a welcome reprieve from the heat. Various trees are surrounding Ashley’s front yard but Isabela doesn’t dare take off her glasses. Her eyes were probably swollen and red from lack of sleep and overdrinking the night before. Come to think of it, she still felt slightly drunk.

She had been woken up two hours earlier when Sky had crawled into her bed. Ashley and Isabela had left the bar before anyone else and the late time Sky showed up at her apartment meant that Luis and Victoria must have let her and a few others continue drinking after closing time. Isabela doesn’t understand how Sky did it. Isabela hadn’t drank half as much but knew she would be suffering twice as hard compared to Sky.

“Hi, sunshine.” Isabela can only grumble in response to Ashley’s greeting, letting her usher her inside the house with a laugh. “I told you to sleep in. I’m making Chris do all the heavy work anyway.”

“I’m perfectly able,” Isabela insists, sliding her glasses atop her head. She claps her hands, taking in the balloons and empty candy bags surrounding the living room coffee table. “Put me to work.”

There were fifteen other children in Jupiter’s daycare class and each one had a specific diet request which meant each candy bag must contain different items and not be confused. Ashley handed Isabela a list of the kids name and items their goodie bag must contain and sat her down in front of all the miniature snacks and toys. Jupiter’s party was space themed and the small moons and planets that Ashley had bought to go in the bag made Isabela coo. Why were tiny things so unfairly adorable?

“I want to make sure they are perfect,” Isabela defends with a fond eye roll when she sees Ashley arching an eyebrow as she triple checks a bag. There’s a small smile on Isabela’s lips from Ashley’s teasing but when she puts her mind to a task she always has to make sure it is done right. Not to mention that focusing her full attention on the goodie bags had her paying less attention to how sick she still felt. Even when she was younger she had never handled hangovers well.

“Do you want me to place the trash can beside you? Need a reminder as to where the closest bathrooms are?” Ashley teases her friend, noticing the large inhale and exhale she’s continuously doing and knowing it is in efforts to tame her growing nausea. She had offered Isabela tums and breakfast but Isabela insisted the only thing she would be able to keep down was water.

“I hate you,” Isabela returns, leaning back to let the couch cushions swallow her. “Drinking is not meant for me. I don’t know why I keep letting Sky talk me into nights out.” She closes her eyes for a few moments. Her eyelids feel heavy and she wonders if her eyebags are as horrible as she imagines. Isabela knew she looked a mess when she was tired. She wasn’t lucky enough to be a cute drowsy girl. No. It was all dark eyebags and swollen eyes for her.

“Think of the memories,” Ashley insists. “Memories are all we leave behind anyway.”

Isabela pops one eye open. “That was dark,” she laughs, never having known Ashley to be anything but optimistic. She gets what she is trying to say though. It doesn’t matter how much money someone left you if they were pieces of shit throughout your life, you would have rather had good times with them.

There is a shift in Ashley’s attitude, a tension in the air and Isabela knew it would come up sooner or later. She remembers being back at the bar. Crowded and sweaty and that guy had been an asshole but it was nothing new — it wasn’t until he had turned his hand into a fist and swung it beside him that she had reacted. Isabela had flinched and it made her feel weak but knowing Ashley had caught sight of it caused anxiety to flare up in her chest and overtake every feeling in her body. Hangover and shame be damned. She was sick to her stomach deciding whether she wanted Ashley to know the truth or not.

“Is,” Ashley begins, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. Isabela doesn’t want to seem flippant or uncaring of the worries her friend is bringing up so she sits up and mirrors her position. Showing she’s listening but keeping what she hopes is a blank expression on her face so nothing is given away. “Last night at the bar… when that guy asked you to dance —” Ashley cuts herself off and Isabela has been through this before. Knows that the people in her life care about her and it hurts them to think about and they can hardly bear to ask. “If you don’t want to answer it, that’s fine. We’ll move on and I promise I will never bring it up again but I have to ask at least once. What happened with that guy at the bar?”

Isabela thinks back to her sophomore year in college, freshly twenty and in love with the new usual that had taken up residence at Chucky’s Bar. He’d been a couple of years older and had only recently graduated from university, he was on his way to taking over his family restaurant. He was sweet and funny, his family had been warm and welcoming and within a blink of her eyes her sweet dream had turned into her worst nightmare. His tight grips became punches, his jealousy became delusions, and the hopes of him changing for her were flushed down the drain. She knew the saying, ‘if they did it once they will do it again’, but she had been so young and dumb and blinded. She considers herself one of the lucky ones. The incident had only escalated once and she had managed to get away.

It’s been years and she’s had therapy. Isabela isn’t angry at the world. She doesn’t hate all men. Hasn’t sworn off to ever date again or anything like that but the memories still feel fresh in her mind. Sometimes more than others and they always succeed at making her feel weak because she can’t help her body’s physical reactions. She can admit that the memories paralyze her every single time she has to deny someone something or she is in a position to displease someone, even minimally. It’s what had happened at the bar: Isabela’s palms had begun sweating the second the guy approached her because she knew she was going to turn him down. He had been kind in asking but not so nice once she had declined his offer. It hadn’t been the curses he had called her that made her flinch. The flinch had been in response to the arm he’d thrown out in exasperation and more than anything she’s only embarrassed of her lacking strength.

It’s one thing to have your weakness known and another entirely to have to explain it. It was like baring your soul to every person you came in contact with and Isabela trusts Ashley but she’s not ready for the way Ashley looks at her to change. She doesn’t need another person in her life viewing her as needing to be protected.

“My ex boyfriend wasn’t so nice,” is what Isabela settles on and she hopes that it’s enough for now. She remembers her mothers tears and Victoria’s anger when she woke up in the hospital. Ashley’s eyes soften and tear immediately and Isabela isn’t ready to draw out any other reaction. She reaches over to place a comforting hand on her friend's knee, assuring her she was with her now. “Oh Ash, don’t cry,” there’s a wobbly lip accompanying her chuckle. “It was a long time ago and I’m fine, okay? I’m right here.”

There’s astonishment in Ashley’s eyes, wonder over the strength of the woman sitting in front of her. Talking of her pain and still choosing to comfort others. “I hope Victoria killed him,” is all Ashley can think to say and Isabela lets out a watery laugh with one last pat to her knee before bringing her arm back.

“Let’s move on to these balloons, yeah?”

Three hours are spent blowing up balloons and taping them together as well as convincing Ashley to not change every detail over the chosen theme. Chris had been seconds away from crying when Ashley suggested for the tables to be moved and it was only when Isabela convinced her otherwise that the tension in his shoulders seemed to release. He had made a crazy motion behind his wife’s back and Isabela had to bite back her laugh. She sympathized with the stress on Ashley in ensuring the party was perfect for Jupiter and she was glad if she was able to ease a sliver of that.

After meeting the gorgeous and chatty Jupiter she found herself bummed that she was unable to stay. Jupiter was kind in providing Isabela with a tour of her playroom and allowing her to color in her favorite art book. There were lots of gibberish and babbles that ended with Jupiter looking up at Isabela waiting for a response so all she could do was pretend she understood the little girl with responses of ‘oh yeah’ and ‘wow’.

“I don’t want to let her go,” Isabela complains with a pout, squeezing Jupiter for a goodbye hug that the toddler was more than happy to return. “She’s perfect. I don’t understand how you guys get anything done, I just want to have her in my arms all day.” She takes advantage of having her in her arms and decides to take one last whiff of her baby head before letting go. “Have the best birthday party, little lady. Eat cake until your heart's content.”

“Uh oh, someone has baby fever.” Chris cocks a playful eyebrow in Isabela’s direction.

“No, no, no. I’m more than fine being the cool aunt who gets to spoil them rotten and hand them back during tantrums,” she replies, placing both hands on her knees to rise from her couch on the entryway, Jupiter having disappeared to the backyard. “You two should have another one, though.”

Chris’s wide eyes and immediate head shake have Isabela laughing. Ashley elbows her husband slightly, rolling her eyes at him before responding. “That one runs us ragged. We wanna wait until she’s a little older.”

Isabela can understand that. “My flight is in three hours and I still need to shower —”

“Is that what I smell?”

Ashley rolls her eyes at her husband, “Ignore him. It’s what I do.”

There is a bright smile on Isabela’s face, content to be around friends and their marital teasing. Maybe she missed them more than she thought. She feels guilty for believing Victoria when she said Ashley must have had ulterior motives for an impromptu girls night. Isabela had been nervous and taken more shots than she should have before Ashley’s arrival, convincing herself it had something to do with the mishap from years before. Fortunately Victoria and Isabela were both wrong and she found herself letting tension release in Ashley’s presence.

“Make sure to send me lots and lots of pictures of Jupiter. I want to see her chubby cheeks smothered in cake frosting and her little face when she opens her gift.” The adults peek over in the direction of the distracted toddler. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Are you kidding? Thank you for helping. I would still be stuck in a stress frenzy if you hadn’t been my sound board today,” Ashley replies, pulling her old friend in for a hug. Chris has the door open for Isabela behind them as he lets them say their goodbyes in peace, knowing it may be a while before the girls would be able to see each other again. “Let’s not go that long without contact again, ‘kay?”

Isabela shook her head. “Now that I’ve met your little monster you aren’t getting rid of me.” There’s another round of waves and goodbyes before Isabela exits their home and they close the door behind her. She feels lighter than she had when she arrived that morning, sleep deprived and slightly hungover. The air breeze against her no longer has the morning freshness and the LA heat has managed to set in.

She takes solace in the fact that in a few hours she was going to be in Hawaii. It was a light work trip with her client only having one single interview and photo shoot so she knew she would have downtime to hit the beach and local restaurant. Isabela’s making a mental note to text Jessica, her coworker and client’s social media manager, as well as opening her notes app to see the packing checklist made the day before when she hears footsteps trudging towards her and her name being called.

There's a sinking feeling in her gut. A part of her wants to run away and hide, remembering the embarrassment and shame that was brought upon her that day, but there’s a voice in her head telling her to keep her head held high and act like nothing was off.

“Austin, hey,” she hopes her tone isn’t filled with the dread she feels.

There’s a pause before she allows herself to face him for the first time in seven years. Isabela has seen him on television shows and movies, on the cover of magazines and gracing the front pages of tabloids with his then girlfriend. She would have to be in hiding to not have seen him this past year alone with all the Elvis promo, but seeing him in person manages to take her breath away. He’s handsome and that hasn’t changed. If anything, time and new opportunities have done him well. She remembers a sad boy who had just lost his mother and didn’t know what to do with his life; he was skinny and lanky and hadn’t got a haircut in months.

The man in front of her had life in him. He’s filled out since the last time she saw him and she sees a gleam in his eye that wasn’t there before. Austin must be happy, its the only guess she would make, and no matter what he put her through, happiness and health is all Isabela would have ever wished for him.

“Ash didn’t tell me you’d be here,” he says as he approaches closer to where she stands. Isabela expects the hug, finds herself accepting it, and then she immediately hates herself after. “It’s so good seeing you. I’ve been thinking about you.” Austin has never been one to shy away from his feelings, he’s always been one to wear his heart on his sleeve, but this once she wishes he wasn’t so honest because it somehow hurts more to know she’s crossed his mind and he never reached out. “My assistant, uh, Lydia, remember her? She's pregnant. Told me last week and she was really happy. She’s gonna become a stay at home mom after, I think.”

There’s a brow arch because she’s unsure of how the news pertains to her. Isabela has talked to Lydia frequently through the years and the woman had called her a few days prior to share the news. “Yeah, she told me. Her and Raul are really excited. I mean, good for them, I know they’ll make the best parents.”

Austin looks like he’s gonna continue as he nods his head along in agreement but, “Hang on, you keep in touch with her?” He asks and he looks genuinely confused. It makes two of them because Isabela has no idea what’s going on in this conversation or what she could possibly have to do with Lydia being pregnant and why on earth it would be the first thing Austin wants to share with her after six years of no contact.

Isabela nods slowly. “She’s been a great help to me through the years. Helped me finish my internship and get an interview at this agency I’m at. I tell her she makes me feel like a nepo baby with all the connections she offers.” The fond eye roll shows all the love between the two women and transports Austin back in time to when there was a genuine friendship between them and he remembers to put the conversation back on track, where he wants it to head.

“Well, the job’s yours. If you want it.” There’s a dead silence that takes up the space between them. Quiet enough where he can hear the sound of the leaves rustling on Ashley’s front yard and the faint sound of a car honking from a block over. Austin feels the need to explain, “The past year has been amazing, Is, and I’ve actually got some of my favorite directors asking for me to read for their films. And with Elvis coming out, despite how it makes me sound like a complete dick, things are changing for me and I want people I can trust around me. You know, people who won’t come around for the wrong reasons or with bad intentions. When Lydia told me she’d help me find someone new all I could think about was offering it to you. I’ve got James, Kate, and people I trust around me and I wanna keep that going. I trust you. And I already know you’re damn good at your job.”

The betrayal that has simmered beneath her skin for six years - a betrayal from a friend and former employer, a betrayal that Isabela had forced herself to forgive without apologies being exchanged for her own emotional health - she feels the betrayal awaken in her chest as if it’s the day of again. She didn’t need anyone to plead for forgiveness and she didn’t need to be fought for but she always hoped that if a thought from him was spared for her it was because of more than him needing her for a job. A job he was only offering because he was big and famous and people were out to use him now.

Did Austin wake up and think, “hey, she was humiliated and treated like shit in my backyard and never spilled the beans to any tabloid so I must be able to trust her?”

Isabela reminds herself to take a deep breath. Austin was many things but he was never selfish or inconsiderate of others. His mom and sister would have never allowed it. Isabela had to come to terms with the fact that a moment of great disappointment and disloyalty in her life didn’t create an impact in his life. He hadn’t spent three days crying in bed afterwards or had a hard time getting hired for months after because gossip had made the rounds. Nope. The humiliation, sadness, and shame was left for her.

“I, um,” she knows that anyone else would have a lot to say. She wishes she had the guts to do the same but she doesn’t want to engage in an argument or have him give a meaningless apology. She doesn’t want him to know how much she still cares when he obviously had moved past it. “I’m taking a year off. Gonna take some time to travel and all that, but thank you. For thinking of me and offering.” She hopes her eyes aren’t brimming with tears because they sure are currently burning.

Austin looks disappointed and she wonders why he’d be anything but aware of the fact that she wouldn’t want to work with him again. Do they remember the day differently or something? She doesn’t have the gall to say any of that and she bites her lip to stop herself from easing any discomfort between them so the awkward silence grows between them before Austin moves to break it.

“Let me take your number down, at least,” he says as he reaches into his back pocket to pull his sleek black iPhone out and hand it to her. She takes it, noticing no phone case on and she cringes because her phone wouldn’t survive a day. “In case you come back from vacation early.” There’s a teasing lilt in his tone and she offers a small smile as she inputs her number for him, “Or just so we could catch up. You’ve been missed.”

There’s that eye roll again and it makes his stupidly handsome grin immediately return. For her part, she offers another small smile and wave as she heads down the pathway, “until next time, then,” she replies and when she turns she takes a deep breath to disperse the tightness in her throat. Although it’s unlikely, she wishes the next time is never because she wouldn’t survive another experience.

#austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler x reader #austin x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler headcanons #austin butler one shot #austin butler fanfic #austin butler

[faceless-mirror]

CHAPTER 2

Ship: Hozier and Farren(ONBC)

Andrew and Farren have been traveling through the centuries. Andrew remembers each time, when each of their times together ended in horrible tragedy. Farren never remembers, but their hearts call to each other in every life time, even if it brings pain. Andrew is breaking now, just needing one happy ending where they don't die crushed to death- sacrificed to old gods- hunted for their love- or torn apart in battle.

All he wants is to have Farren and live in peace. Hopefully, the Gods will grant mercy at last for his past transgressions that led to this cycle.

Taglist: @rowanballard @likehipsters @darkcloverme @holy-shitposting @cwooley1999-blog

(If you'd like to be added or removed please let me know)

Farren woke the next morning to golden rays burning across their face, causing them to hiss softly in pain, rolling over trying to throw the bed cover over their face grumbling softly and angrily at the sun for daring to wake them, even if it was their own fault for not closing the curtains.

It was a moment of quiet contemplation, eyes held shut, breathing in and out easily. Finally when their brain decided that it did, in fact, want to be alive and awake, they slipped out of bed steadily, bare feet hitting the floor. After going through their morning routine, they sat down at their desk, ready to get started on their projects for the day. Though upon opening the laptop, it was an email that caught their attention. 

An interview for the bartender and artist position. Responding quickly they decided that if they could interview today they would. Starting by the next week would be divine. It didn’t take too long to get started on their commissions, though they were anxiously awaiting to hear from the venue.

Almost two hours later, they got a phone call, offering an on the spot interview. 

***

A few hours later, Farren was there in front of the building, dressed in a white button down shirt and bell bottom stretch pants, wearing platform shoes. Looking around they were a bit shocked, it was a nice large venue, with some historic undertones. All they could think of was hoping to be a candidate for the job.

Stepping in, they couldn’t help but appreciate the red brick walls and the hardwood bar that greeted the doors. There was a man sitting and waiting, for them it seemed. The way he jumped to his feet, moving close hand extended, blond locks tied back neatly. “Avira Swan- It’s lovely to meet you- Farren was it?” he questioned warmly, gently pressing a hand to their back guiding them to an office with a smile. 

“We just came under new management- and we’re determined to put in a beautiful mural-” he explained. It seemed this man had visions for the venue and was insisting upon it. Already pulling out a contract. “Feel free to sign, Mx. Doven.”

“What about the interview-?” Farren started to question, reading through the contract curiously. It was fairly standard. Some things were… odd. Riches and prosperity for as long as they obeyed, if contract is broken, owned by one (1) Avira Swan for ten years. That was the line that stood out.

“Don’t worry about the interview. Your art skills are exactly what I want for the mural- Absolutely beautiful.” he said reassuringly, devilishly green eyes watching them like a hawk, except focused on the pages in their hands. 

They hummed softly, they’d be stupid to turn this down. It paid so well… but the one line worried them. “What does this mean… can you clarify…?” Farren questioned, “I would love to accept so long as i can understand this or have it removed-” they said licking their lips nervously. Something felt wrong with this- but the money they couldn’t refuse.

Avira frowned in concern and looked over, and sighed, “Oh- I can have that removed. My lawyer must have taken a joke too far- I apologize.” He took the contract away and the feeling subsided, “Thank you that could have been a lot of paperwork later on.” he chuckled.

The beautiful man smiled fondly, “Let me get that taken care of.” he said softly, standing and moving to a filing cabinet throwing out the old contract and bringing over a fresh one and offered it to Farren. They looked through it firmly, humming softly as they did. A melody that haunted their head. “That’s an old song, dear,” Avira commented thoughtfully, elbow on the table his fingertips supporting his chin as he watched them. “Take care of what it may summon, my dear.”

“You know it?” they questioned, attention diverted.

He smiled softly, “It’s an old song… very old. Legend says it was written by a fae who fell in love with a mortal despite the warnings that he shouldn’t, that he would be cursed as they would be. Whenever the song is hummed or sung… played… he shows up searching for his love. Destruction follows him…”

Something… something itched in the back of their mind at the story. It couldn’t… it wouldn’t be real. They hummed running their fingers through their black and blue hair. “It sounds like a tragic love story… but just a story.” Their lips quirked, eyes returning to the contract reading through it. Nothing was jumping out this time at least. 

“If it is just a story its a story that’s unfinished, dear.”

They didn’t know what to say to that, so they asked a different question. “What is the mural to be of?” they asked.

“I’d like it to be a mural that depicts the fae… and music of course. Just whatever feels right to you. I’ll show you the spot for the mural.” he added as those almost glowing green eyes focused on her hands signing the contract. 

“Of course. Can I get a copy of the contract please? For my own records.” she clarified.

“Of course.” Avira said warmly, pulling out a contract from the same folder passing it to her, letting her glance through it before standing. “Now… let’s get you that tour to the place for the mural.” he purred, a sound that seemed to soak into her mind.

- - - - -

Andrew had been getting ready to perform feeling a tremor along the red cord coming from his chest making his throat tighten. They remembered the song. It had vibrated many times over the years. It always happened at odd intervals but… that was a sign. His long fingers touched the cord lightly. “Beloved… I’ll find you. I’ll find you no matter where you are.” he breathed out, muddy green eyes focused on the translucent cord. “My beloved.”

#hozier fanfiction #hozier x onbc

[saltwater-and-woodsmoke]

Twenty Six Letters || JJ Maybank

Warnings and authors note: This is sad, like so sad, my friends say it rips their hearts out. I’m sorry. Title credit to black butterflies and deja vu by the maine (the lyric is “there’s only twenty six letters I can use just to tell you I won’t let go”)

This specific story is an alternate ending to another fic I wrote, but I haven’t got that one transferred here yet, I am in the process of moving all of my works to this blog from my main.

Word Count: 2,350

July 17

Y/N,

The doctors came out and told me they tried everything, but they couldn’t save you. They’re transferring Charlie to the mainland where they have a NICU, they’re life lining her. The amount of police that had to hold me back from hurting that doctor, I’m embarrassed. This was supposed to be our dream, our family. I needed to write my thoughts down, I know you can’t read this, it’s ridiculous. I can’t lose both of you. I love you so much.

JJ

July 19

Y/N,

Charlie weighs a whopping 1 pound, 2 ounces. She’s the tiniest thing I have ever laid eyes on. I’m staying on the mainland until she gets to come home, thanks to the community, really. Sarah started a fundraiser for Charlie’s medical care, your funeral, and the community really showed their support. No word on who did this to you, but I will find out. Charlotte Rose Maybank is a fighter, just like her mother. I love you.

JJ

July 21

Y/N, 

Today we laid you to rest. Even though your parents didn’t like me that well, they both put that aside today. John B and Pope had to practically hold me up at the cemetery. We were supposed to grow old and gray together, but today I had to put you six feet under at twenty three. It hit me that I am a widower at twenty-five. I am a single father of a four day old “micro preemie”. I’m at the hospital now. I’m not supposed to be in the NICU this late, but the night nurse knows what happened and can understand my need to be close to the last thing I have of you. I love you more than you will ever know,

JJ

PS: I did as you wished and made JB and Sarah her godparents. They’re coming tomorrow to see her for the first time.

July 25

Y/N,

I spent the night in jail last night. You see, they finally figured out who the pick up belonged to. I hadn’t seen him since we got married two years ago, but I was so pissed off when I went into the jail to talk to Shoupe. I asked him for five minutes with him, which was granted. I was yelling, and I’m not embarrassed about that actually. I told him I was going to make sure he went away for a very long time. That he killed the love of my life, that because of him his fucking granddaughter is fighting for her life right now all because he felt like it was okay to drive drunk. That motherfucker showed no remorse whatsoever. He fucking smirked at me Y/N, so I punched him. Square in the jaw. Of course, I was promptly booked for it, but I was told this morning that they weren’t going to actually press charges because in Shoupe’s eyes he deserved it. They put it on the books as a purely cooling down period. I came back to the hospital, and Charlie is stable. They said if she keeps improving like she is, I might get to hold her for the first time soon. I’m trying to be strong for her, for you, but I miss you so much. You should still be here, she should still be safe and growing inside you. But it wasn’t meant to be. I love you more than the moon and stars,

JJ

August 9

Y/N,

So I haven’t written in a while and that’s because we have a pretty rocking kid, you know? I got to hold her for the first time last week. It was an emotional affair, I was sobbing the moment they placed her on my chest. She’s still so tiny, but she’s gaining weight and is starting to look more like an actual human instead of an alien. I made sure the nurse took a picture when I held her because I want to remember how small she was the first time I held her, even with all the wires and tubes.  I may be writing less frequently but I’m gonna keep writing. It makes me feel better. Like, I’m still close to you with this notebook. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

JJ

September 17

Y/N,

Happy two months Lottie Rose. I know we were going to call her Charlie, but the new night nurse started calling her Lottie, and I’ve kind of fallen in love with it. It just fits her. She’s almost three pounds now! I’m so proud of her. It’s wild to me that she would be due in almost six weeks. The doctor expects her to be home by her due date, and I promptly will be taking her to your grave. She’s always going to know how much you loved her, Y/N. I made sure your mom put “Mother of Charlotte” on your headstone. When she’s older I’m gonna take her to our favorite spots. I want her to know who you were, because I know that the person you were, is why she’s here. I love you more than I can count.

JJ

October 31st

Y/N,

Happy Due Date Lottie Rose Maybank! We’re going home today, Y/N. Lottie weighs a whopping 6 pounds now. I’m so proud of her. She is tiny, but she’s gonna catch up fast. She passed her car seat test with flying colors. She can eat from a bottle, but the nurse noticed that she wasn’t as responsive to sound as most of the other babies when they’re ready to go home. She suggested she might just be desensitized to the noise of the hospital, but they wanted to recheck her hearing before we leave, so I am writing this while I wait for them to finish that. I just signed all of her release paperwork. Last night, I was contacted by the local news to do an interview about how Lottie is, and how everything has affected me. I think I should do it, John B and Sarah said they would watch Lottie while I go to the station. 

Okay so they brought Lottie back, she didn’t pass her hearing test so we have to set up an appointment for a hearing specialist. Honestly,  if she needs hearing aids it isn’t the biggest deal in the world. I’m not going to love her any less. She’s our kid, she can handle anything that's thrown in her way. I love you bunches,

JJ

December 24

Y/N,

This single dad thing is hard. Tomorrow is Lottie’s first Christmas, and we are going to church with your parents. I know you always liked to go on Christmas and Easter at least, so I thought that could be one tradition I kept with Lottie. I’m also keeping the tradition of buying a personalized ornament every year for the Christmas tree. It’s wild to think that at this time last year, we had just agreed to try for a baby, and this year everything is different. You’re not here, we have a five month old daughter who is the size of a three month old.  I’ve got to tell you, losing your wife brings things into perspective. I want Lottie to have a set of grandparents that love her unconditionally. I’ve spent a lot of time with your mom and sister the last month or so, and I know your mom will love her no matter what. No matter how we get along, Lottie comes first. She’s our priority. Merry Christmas, Baby, I love you. 

JJ

July 17

Y/N,

One year. You have been gone one long year. This time one year ago, I was working on Pope’s dad’s truck. It seemed like every single siren in the town went out, and I remember thinking “That must be a bad accident.” If only I knew then. If only I knew that in an hour, you would be gone, that I’d be standing in the waiting room of the hospital while they worked on you until they couldn’t anymore. I remember the anger, Shoupe and another officer holding me back before I just buckled in my own grief. I remember your mom and dad coming, having rushed over from the mainland. Your mom knew, as soon she walked in the waiting room where I was a mess on the floor, JB on one side of me, Pope on the other, she knew.  We sobbed together, we became numb together. I vaguely remember telling her they were lifelining Lottie to Raleigh. I remember her looking at me and telling me, “John James, you listen to me. You get to Raleigh, your daughter needs you. Do you hear me? She needs you.” It was the only time in my life I didn’t mind hearing my full name. I didn’t get to see her until she was already two days old. Today we have a happy, healthy, one year old. She’s catching up with kids her age, which kind of shocks the doctors. She’s growing on track, she’s hitting milestones. She just started crawling, but she can already get wherever her little heart desires. I’ve made a conscious effort to not be sad in front of her today. We are having a big party for her, she’s going to love it. I miss you, sweetheart. I love you

JJ

August 10

Y/N

Time flies, you know? It seems like yesterday I was bringing Lottie home from the hospital. Where has five years gone? Today, I dropped her off for her first day of kindergarten. We had a long conversation about how if anyone was mean about her hearing aids, to tell her teacher and how it wasn’t a bad thing to ask for help. I want her to have a better school experience than I had, I want her to like school. That didn’t stop me from sobbing like a baby the whole way to work. Of course, my boss knew I’d been crying and just patted my shoulder and told me “if you think this is the only first day that you’ll cry, I have news for you.” I told him Lottie is an only child, I’m probably going to cry at every first day of school. It’s strange to think that if you were still here we’d probably have another little Maybank running around. It’s okay though, your sister had twins two years ago and JB and Sarah are having their first soon, so she’s got cousins to play with. I love you sweetheart.

JJ

July 17

Y/N.

Uh, we have a teenager? Like a full ass practically fully grown human in our house. Thirteen years and it still feels like yesterday. We got the news yesterday that Luke Maybank died in jail over the weekend. Y/N, I have to tell you, our daughter cracks me up. I told her that her grandfather passed away, and she told me she hopes you take a trip down to hell and kick the shit out of him. I told her that I beat the shit out of him thirteen years ago when she was barely a week old. She found the news articles about the accident, and asked me to talk to her about it. I did, but it was hard. I’ve never shut up about you so she knew who you were. She also asked me why I never remarried. It’s simple, really. Half my heart was buried with you 13 years ago, and the other half divided to recover and love our daughter just as fiercely as we loved each other. I love you honey. 

JJ

May 31

Y/N,

Okay, we’re old. It’s fine. Charlotte Rose Maybank, you know our pretty rockin’ kid? Yeah, she graduated high school today, as valedictorian. She’ll be 18 in July, Y/N, and then in August she’s going to the mainland for college. She wants to be a doctor. Watching her walk across that stage, in her cap and gown, I was sobbing. I was an absolute mess. JB had to take pictures for me because I couldn’t stop shaking. You’d be so proud of her. I know I sure am. I love you more than I can breathe,

JJ

October 25

Y/N,

Our baby girl got married today. Of course, I could go my entire life without knowing that JB and I are going share grandkids someday, but really Alexander is a great kid, and he loves Lottie. I know that someday, she’s going to find all these notebooks and read them and I hope she laughs that I shared every milestone with you like you could read these. She’s got one more semester of school left, then she will officially be Charlotte Rose Maybank-Routledge, MD. I personally think the hyphenating of her last name is really complicated, but that’s what she wants. She looks absolutely stunning in her dress, I hope you can see her. I love you, gorgeous,

JJ

November 13

Y/N, 

We became grandparents today. It’s wild to think that 27 years ago, I was holding our daughter in the same hospital where Carter Jonathan Maybank-Routledge arrived early this morning. The Maybank genes are still strong in this one, Carter looks so much like Lottie it’s not funny. I told JB maybe the next one will look like his side, ha. Okay sweetheart, I love you. JJ

March 6

Mom,

I had absolutely no idea that Dad wrote you a letter every week, sometimes every day, for 36 years. He fought the cancer for a very long time, Mom, because he simply didn’t want to leave me and the boys.  I found the notebooks, I’ve spent the last week reading them. He loved you so much, he loved me so much. He wrote to you up until the last day. That’s beautiful. I know you are back together now. You’ve got 36 years to catch up on. Tell him we’ll be fine. 

I love you both,

Lottie.

#obx fic #jj maybank x reader #JJ maybank #obx #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks #JJ maybank fic #jj maybank fanfiction #JJ maybank angst #obx angst #obx fanfiction #dad!jj maybank

[cottonundiestf]

How about a short little caption focused on someone having their lips expanded into absurd dsls

I actually had an old blog post for this!

Kithable

Kenna was accustomed to the hormonally-charged environment of an all-girls school now that she was eighteen and in her final semester. Even the straight girls were so starved for experience and intimacy that it was common for girls to experiment with one another. 

As a certified, card-carrying queer girl, Kenna would love to have been part of the fun, but the introvert struggled to pull together the confidence to suggest a proper snogfest to any of her classmates.

Ever the dutiful goodie-two-shoes, Kenna was volunteering for the chore of cleaning up the dorm attic when she found an old oil lantern.

Curious, Kenna took it in her own room and managed to light the lantern. Much to her surprise, a busty genie manifested from the flame!

"Thank you for releasing me. As a token of my gratitude, I can grant you one wish!"

"Wow, that's... wait, one? I thought it was supposed to be three?"

The genie rolled her eyes. "A bit bratty to look a gift horse in the mouth. I can only change reality so much; accept a small gift and be grateful."

Kenna sighed, but this was what she was asking for. She could not change anything big, but she could make her last year of high school and all her years of college way more enjoyable. She just needed a way to get people interested in her without Kenna having to be the initiator.

"I wish I was the best kisser in my grade, my job, or whatever groups I end up in, and everyone knows it." That was like starting a rumor without having to do any of the work!

"So your wish is... to be the most kissable person anywhere you go?"

"Yes, please!"

"Easy."

Kenna gasped as her lips started to tingle. She scrambled from her bed to the mirror on her wall to see what was happening. Her eyes went wide as she watched her thin lips fill with natural collagen. Her lower lip puffed up. Her upper lip matched, developing a perfectly defined cupid bow. She kept expecting those lips to stop, but they kept swelling until it was hard to imagine telling anyone that they were not fake.

Dumbfounded, Kenna brushed a finger along her pouty pillows. They were so sensitive that she felt the grazing touch between her legs. Even when those lips were closed, there was a little permanent keyhole open between them.

"How am I thupothed to exthplain thith?" Kenna gasped, shocked by the lisp she developed thanks to her obstructive mouth.

"You won't have to. I changed your history; your lips have been this way for years, Hot Lips!"

"But now I thound ridiculouth! How will anyone take me theriouthly in college?" She was a top-notch student, but she sounded like a total ditz! As remade memories hit her, Kenna realized her teachers always clearly judged her harshly for her "silly speech."

In fact, they thought she was a dumb bimbo because of her reputation. The reputation she asked for. They could not mark her down for it, but they gave her a hard time for being the school slut.

"You didn't ask to be taken seriously. You asked to be 'kithable,' remember?"

"But wait, thith ithn't—huh??"

The genie, tired of the ingrate's whining, had vanished into the lamp, leaving Kenna conflicted. Is this really what she wanted? Was it worth it?

The door to the dorm room opened, and Kenna's roommate, Lila, entered. The popular, confident young woman was blushing and looking at Kenna in a way she never had before. "Hey, Kenna. I don't know if this is overstepping things as roommates, but… well, it's been a while since my boyfriend has been able to visit and…" She looked at her feet.

And Kenna realized what she was asking. Her full lips curled into an alluring smile. She moved to Lila and closed the door behind her and pulled her into a soft, sensual kiss so perfect, a moan hummed in Lila's throat.

Okay. Her teachers and professors could judge her all they liked; if that was how every girl she kissed would react, this was the best wish ever. Of all time.

#bimbo lips #lip enhancement #reality change #tf story #language change

[solarpunkani]

So the way cities are designed is nasty and not really good for anybody. Do you have any resources or ideas on how this can actually, realistically change? I mean, we can't just tear down cities and rebuild them better. Is the way forward just adding more beneficial stuff to the existing, less-than-ideal cities, and then building the new cities with people and nature in mind?

Hey!

Yknow, I thought I had a tag for this, but either I forgot what tag it was or things just haven't come out of queue yet because I'm not seeing much on my blog. I feel like I've seen specific posts about making things more accessible--I tend to see this line of thought be referred to as Walkable Cities or Accessible Cities--but I can't think of any off the top of my head at the moment.

To the best of my understanding, as someone who isn't a city planner or anything along those lines, I would think the solution would be along what you suggested; adding more beneficial structures--which may include rebuilding certain things/sections but I don't thiiiink would involve the entire demolition of a building--to preexisting cities and then building the new cities with these principles in mind.

What needs to be changed will be on different levels depending on how old the city is, how it was planned out before, and whats causing issues vs what needs to be improved. There's definitely a lot of talk about needing more bike lanes and sidewalks in the US, and how sparsely everything is placed in a lot of cities without a way to really access them. I think the closest I've ever been to being in a truly walkable city was my college campus, and not only was that not the whole city but just the campus, but I also didn't really have the leg strength to walk or bike the wholething. Even still, things were close enough together that walking or biking was feasible for a lot of people--and there was a robust bus system that was free for students as long as they had an ID (though most drivers didn't ID people who looked like students, or if you were being picked up on campus).

From there I guess I'd love if something similar was implemented in other places. Free (or at least very low cost, but preferrably free) and robust bus systems, bike lanes, wide sidewalks, and things made in more of a 'hub' kind of planning instead of having everything super spaced out. With lots of green spaces interspersed throughout, like small but frequent parks that people can go to hang out with lots of benches and flowers and such. Maybe a lot of the housing set-ups would be sort of like apartments on top of stores? Close to campus, there was a mini Target and several other stores in a plaza-like block that actually all had 5 levels of apartments on top of them--you needed a special key fob to get into the elevators to access them, so it wasn't like anyone going to Target could end up at your apartment door. This could be a good way to have more structures in less space, in a way? Granted, I never lived in those units, so IDK if the quality of life was different in any way...

I feel like I've seen videos and posts discussing how one city started slowly phasing things in and out to become increasingly more walkable over the years? Maybe in Spain or something? I can't find it at the moment, however. From what I remember, they started slowly phasing cars out of certain areas of the town, instead adding more bike lanes and plazas and benches and housing until eventually basically everything was accessible by walking, biking, or taking a transit system.

I've touched this point already, but I feel that transit systems would be one of the most important parts of making a city truly accessible--but that the transit system may look different depending on where you are. New York, for example, has the subway system that from what I know (I've never taken the New York Subway I haven't been there since I was 8) is extremely efficient in getting people around--could likely use some improvements, but is definitely a good model to look at. For places where subways aren't suitable--I know Florida would deal with lots of flooding issues, trying to dig and implement a subway system--an increasingly robust bus system or even something like a monorail system like my city (sort of) has would be excellent.

Now there's definitely something to said about accessibility into buildings itself. Sometimes ramps are constructed improperly, so those would need to be fixed. I can also see there being issues with doorways and stairs and such in older buildings--though even in those cases, many buildings get revamped with elevators and wider entrances. There's probably tons of other accessibility issues that I don't even realize, because though I try to keep these things in mind, I do ultimately live life as an abled person right now.

Though another point I do also remember being brought up is the height of landscaping, especially near crosswalks and such, causing problems with accessibility for children, shorter people, the elderly, etc. Also that trailing, low-hanging plants can also cause issues by getting stuck in wheelchairs and such. These would also have to be kept in mind when considering green spaces and accessibility.

This post is getting long and ultimately I don't really know what I'm talking about in the slightest. But I do hope this was at least a little helpful!

#out of queue #ani rambles #accessibility #walkable cities

[theoutcastedartist]

The Two Halves of Solaris:

Mephiles & Iblis

The two halves were created by Chaos and worshipped by the Ancients. These are my designs for their corporeal forms (to differ from '06) in my Sonic Boom AU: "Shadows & Lights"

Shadows & Lights AU Short Summary:

Both Shadow and Sonic were facility experiments known as "Project Shadow" and "Project Light", where the goal was to create beings that could simulate the powers of The Two Halves of Solaris: Mephiles and Iblis. This secret. facility was located near one of the old temples the Ancients built as places of worship for their gods.

Project Shadow was perfect on the 1st attempt, seen as "The Ultimate Lifeform" because of how closely he resembled Mephiles in both appearance and (theorized) abilities.

Project Light on the other hand... not perfect on the first attempt. Most versions of the experiment would not live past year 4 for "one flaw or another", often discarded and recycled to create better versions of Light, each time getting closer to the appearance and abilities of Iblis. The last version of Project Light was "Sonic". This is the only version of Project Light that Project Shadow had ever met.

Shadow and Light had only known each other for 3 years at the facility, before an incident with G.U.N ended with Project Shadow being in stasis for 50 years, and Project Light being sent forward in time 55 years.

Shadow retained most of his memories from the facility when he awoke, though he has forgotten about the existence of Project Light.

Project Light remembers absolutely nothing, not even their own name. They were pretty much nameless for 5 months until they met Dr. Eggman, who dubbed them "Sonic" due to their incredible speed. Then 3 years later, Sonic met Tails, Amy, Knuckles, and Sticks.

The actual AU itself starts when Tails and Amy are curious about Sonic's childhood, to which they admit that they don't have any memories of such. Their earliest memory is waking up near temple remains far away from the island, a mysterious island that has no record of even existing.

Together, Sonic and Co sent out on a journey to uncover Sonic's past and explore uncharted territory. I mean, what else are they gonna do on a Saturday?

Mephiles and Iblis are responsible for the creation of the Phantom Ruby and Master Emerald (dubbed as the "Shattered Crystals" by Lyric and historians who). The Two Halves are not inherently destructive or evil, instead more benevolent in this AU.

Mephiles is the power of the mind, the intelligence and creativity. The Phantom Ruby grants anyone the power to warp reality with the mind, but if a mind is weak and uncreative, it will be swallowed by the Phantom Ruby itself, leaving nothing behind but a mindless husk.

Iblis is the power of the heart, the flames of hope. True strength is found in kindness and compassion for others. The Master Emerald grants limitless power based on a person's heart, but if that heart is cold and dark, their intent is selfish, it will slowly destroy that person from within and take their life as collateral.

Both the Phantom Ruby and the Master Emerald are currently lost. No one knows where the majority of the shards are located, not even the last of the Ancients, Lyric. The very few that have been found are mostly corrupted...

Tags for this AU on this blog are:

#shadows&lightsau

#ShadowLightAU

(You can tell I'm a fan of "The Muder of Me" lmao)

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sonic fanart #sonic boom #sonic boom fanart #sonic boom au #mephiles the dark #iblis the flames of disaster #boom mephiles #boom iblis #sonic #shadows&lightsau #ShadowLightAU #artist on twitter #artist on tumblr #digital art #TheOutcastedArtist's art

[the-huldras-back]

On the Boardwalk, On the Shore

Had this on a reblog on another blog that got censored almost immediately, so I decided to start a whole new blog for my writing about it! Anyways I was really gripped by the idea of mermaids transforming like salmon do in the wild.

Aluya’hicetya, A mermaid in her youth, was a darling girl in that time of her life when her kind felt the draw to rebel, swimming up to the surface to breathe the fresh, warm sea air. The old ones in her pod said it was good in moderation to keep parasites out of the skin, and the older ones said that they shouldn’t stray far from the deep waters, or entertain themselves with humans. “It’s not like the old days,” They’d say. “You can’t just sink a ship in a terrible rage like you used to.” But what none of them were willing to discuss, even in the safety and comfort of their warm undersea vents, were the consequences of letting lonely girls wander too close to the shore.

It was nothing so pedestrian as a simple kidnapping, one of those old stories of selkies captured by longshoremen or boys catching a fish bound to grant you a wish. The danger never came from the shore, but inside of the young who sat under dazzling human lights, listening to snippets of conversation on the wind. Some argued that the sea air could turn young merfolk strange, making them unrecognizable to their pods. 

Of course, Merfolk were dangerous to humans too. In the old days, plenty of sea creatures made easy meals out of the stupid and the unlucky, and there was no taboo against eating them, but most avoided it unless they were desperate. Search parties churning up their water and threatening their limbs with boat propellers were bad for the community, so in these days, only the witches made a habit of disappearing juicy morsels from the shore.

Aluya, though initially thinking about whether the stray boogie-boarder might make a good snack despite the warnings, was instead haunted by the sound wafting out over the chatter of folks on the boardwalk, resting in near invisibility on the rocks in the dark and listening to these strange beings with their strange chatter. Human tongues came easily to Merfolk, the pink muscles in their mouths just as capable of English as the haunting sounds in the deep. So one night after many years of listening and watching, there came a sound that made her heart ache, and she crept dangerously close to listen. 

Aluya was no stranger to the machines humans used to play what they called music, the sick, crunchy, compressed garbage that offended the ears and drowned out the voice, but this was different. She started to recognize it from her perch on the rocks, hidden by the blindingly yellow lights up on the pier. It always went the same way: “Can you play Sweet Child of Mine?” “Do you know ‘House of the Rising Sun’? The Dolly Parton one!” “Hey girl, you know any Nirvana?” 

Then the music would kick up. Slow at first, then with more confidence, a small rechargeable amp carrying the sound over the waves. Human technology was as impressive as old, deep magics to her, the way small sounds became large in their hands. It was startling at first, Aluya foolishly trying to match the keening with her own throat, forgetting she was being sneaky and that her song couldn’t respond to the call without water for her to speak into. Her kind didn’t have throats made to communicate above the waves. It made her red with embarrassment, but then she sat and listened for hours on the rocks, haunted by the clear tones of quality steel cords and even better chords. 

It took weeks of watching and listening on the rocks before she found who it belonged to, a young woman who walked the long way through the dark once the boardwalk closed, late into the night. Rough-looking and ragged, the scraggly musician was all bones, slinking like a stray cat through the night back to a small cottage by the sea. The ancient detritus of lures and netting in the bay outside the house told Aluya everything she needed to know. A pang in her chest, like the long prelude to a heart attack.A fisherman’s daughter’s daughter’s daughter, whiling away her hours on the earth by the sea, playing songs for money. It made her heart ache in a way that she didn’t expect. 

It wasn’t about rebelling anymore, she didn’t think. The night air wasn’t so great for its own sake. Instead, she would leave her pod in the afternoons when the sun on the waves made her impossible to see before posting up on a rock, sitting to listen, then escorting her home, all without any real plan or ability to reason out why she was doing it.

Her family and friends were quick to question her of course, but Aluya simply claimed the warm night air helped with an itch in her deep blue scales, and that she was rebelling, Mom. That seemed to satisfy her initially worried parents, and she felt so clever, sneaking off to listen and learn. Before long, Aluya knew every tune this strange girl knew, memorized them and their particular keenings like she would the voice of a friendly acquaintance. She followed along as well, with the snippets of people listening on the boardwalk or the girl���s own lilting tones when she deigned to do more than play the instrument. In this way, she learned her favorites, like Dokken, Whitesnake, and Genesis, and the ache in her chest grew with each passing evening.

Her dreams, though, weren’t of the usual mermaid things like salty fish and slippery eels and whatever else a mermaid might dream of. They were strange and dark, her inner eye drawn towards a cold, dark void in the shadows cast by instinct and the whispering of old, low voices. They grew harder to ignore, night after night, and as she listened, she learned things.

On waking, Aluya would find that she had spent her night's sleep swimming, or carving things into the walls of her grotto, or floating in the deepest, coldest part of her room, hot and irritable from bad sleep. All of this she could put up with, but the ache in her chest, like there was something she was missing out on, made her so jealous she could bite down on her tongue, that was the part that galled. It was miserable but became so much worse when she started to notice changes. 

Small crevices she had swum through since she was a guppy suddenly got tight, and she had to wriggle to get through. Some of her blue scales had started to flake off, and only in the yellow lights of the distant boardwalk could she see that new ones were growing in, a deep and vibrant pink that worried her. Her teeth! How could she forget. Mermaids had jaws of teeth made to fillet fish bones and suck down meat without choking, but what she’d worried were cracks or damage were instead obviously the smallest of serrations, appearing across her mouth in growing numbers each time she woke. 

Looking into her reflection in old glass and the family’s scavenged standing mirror, she was different. Pink all over where it mattered, when all the family’s scales were a deep blue, colors that would hide her within moments of swimming away, muscle and growth all over, so she towered and loomed in her own home, and a more powerful jaw, her muscles developing quickly to let her crush bone rather than work the meat off of it. She looked completely feral.

And magic! Mermaids didn’t do magic, she’d always been taught, only witches in the cold deep did, to warm themselves and bring storms down on disrespectful ships. She’d never heard of what made someone a witch, but now she understood as she carved on the walls of her grotto awake, using heavy metal fishhooks from the shore to scrape esoterica she barely understood and felt compelled to perform. With each dream, the old voices taught her a new trick or cantrip, and her family grew more worried, clearly on the edge of bringing up her changes but unable to bring themselves to do so until Aluya was towering over them, having grown at least a foot in a few short months, deep pink scales growing in where she used to have her mother’s blue. 

It wouldn’t be too much longer before they withdrew from her, giving only distant but polite answers to her questions about dinner and the weather topside, watching with disapproving eyes when she slinked out into the wider ocean to visit her musician and rest atop the sharp black rocks. 

Aluya knew the feeling she was experiencing, after feeling it tear at her guts for months now, all through the spring and into the hot, hot summer. Laying on rocks still warm from the sun, Aluya was absolutely certain that she was lovesick, and that it was causing the strange changes. She was becoming a witch, one of the feared merfolk whose strange ways and instinctive knowledge of the magic of their leviathan ancestors made them outcast from good and decent oceanic society. She’d grown too preoccupied to care though, finding freedom in her newfound size and strength. When it wasn’t worrying Ayula, she found it exhilarating that she seemed to be stronger and faster than before, able to kill and eat much larger, richer prey for her supper, even the mighty tuna unable to evade her in her new, monstrous state. She’d eat this rich food and feel it turn in her stomach, unable to fill the hole in her with food, and something even stranger happened to her as she listened to all those old rock songs on the pier. 

Opening her mouth, Ayula found she could speak! Some new adaptation with the change meant that as those chords wafted out into the air, she could catch them and sing along in time, even if only to herself, her deep, husky voice stirring from deep in her aching chest, crooning out her Void-laced tune across the night air, giggling to herself when her bewitched notes stunned animals on the shore or drunken beachgoers. Before long, she was testing herself, seeing how long she could leave someone spellbound on the shore, siren song keeping them in a stupor. She knew she was pushing it when that music kicked up on the boardwalk and she just couldn’t help herself, following along with her beloved’s clever fingers. 

“Yesterday, and days before. Sun is cold, and rain is hard. I know…” Her voice left an entire group spellbound, all of them still like deer in headlights around the fire they’d built up next to the water, a dozen humans all trapped in her spell till she let them go. It felt powerful and right, like she could sing them all into the sea for her next meal. But there was only one girl she wanted, and her song couldn’t beat out the cry of a steel guitar.

That was when she began to feel the most miraculous transformation coming along, the whispers growing urgent in her dreams as she rested now in a shipwreck, the old metal hull of a tugboat caked in occult symbols, fetishes made by instinct making her sleep more lucid, easier to remember the words of the tutors in her blood. That was when she learned the greatest, most taboo of mer magic. 

Ayula waited though, afraid and frightened for the first time since her transformation began, until she couldn’t stand it for another night longer, putting on the things she’d need. Human clothes and human things, pilfered from the water. She dragged them ashore, and as she left the safety of the sea foam, getting covered in scratchy sand, her tail started to disappear, melting like it had never been there, and then she was just a tall, wet teenager, quickly changing under the pier. Dressed in shorts and a shirt that barely fit her powerful frame, Ayula recognized in the mirror of a nearby jeep that she could pass for human, just so long as she didn’t make a habit of showing off her recessed gills or big, razor-sharp smile. She tied her long hair back, shuddering at the sensation of being dry for the first time in her life, and then headed up the stairs next to the boardwalk, ready to use her newfound voice to make her feelings known, one request at a time. 

Peering down at her beloved, Ayula reached into her pocket and took out a mason jar of quarters she’d found and dried on the rocks for weeks now, counting out five dollars' worth of change, before dumping the sum into the guitar case in front of the blonde woman, stunned and shy now despite her monstrous size and ability by her beloved’s lovely, fair features, and asked in a halting voice, “C-could you, um, well… Do you know any Dokken?” She knew that was one of the girl’s favorites, and her smile made all of Ayula’s transformations worth it.

#mermaid #creative writing #writeblr #monster #monster girl #i don't know how tags work

[tangledbea]

Have you ever imagined you would come this far, having a very popular blog, knowing cast members, and even having some fans? I acknowledge (and admire) your dedication in achieving all this, but I wonder how it feels like XD

Honestly? No, not at all. XD I never sought any sort of popularity, and some days I don't even want it. Some days, it's kind of lonely. I made this blog primarily to be a resource archive, and to share my insights that seven years of being a Tangled fan had granted me (at the time that TBEA aired), but when crew members started showing up on Tumblr, I one day found myself in the headspace of, "The worst they could do is completely ignore me." So I reached out to everyone I could at first, and kept talking to those who answered.

I think the biggest shocker for me was finding out that crew who hadn't pinged my radar knew who I was. When I went to the Tangled the Series panel at D23 Expo in 2017, Ricky Roxburgh bound up to me, all excited to meet me, like I was some kind of celebrity, and I didn't know who he was (yet). It was surprising, to say the least. When I visited DTVA studios, people's faces lit up when we met for the first time, because they knew who I was. It was like meeting an old friend for the first time. Kay Hayes used to run livestreams of their drawing Tangled fanart, and I attended a few, and whenever I did, they'd say, "Oh hi, Bex!" and people in chat would lose their minds, because I was the Bex. I never thought I'd be the anything. XD And close to the series ending, or just after it, I was told by one of the animators that whenever they (the animation team) animated New Dream interacting, they thought of me and hoped I approved. Me, personally. I was literally told that I was influential in how New Dream turned out. I'm not ashamed to say I cried when I heard that.

The thing is, I'm just a person. I'm a middle-aged woman who works as a bookkeeper in a very small accounting office to pay my bills. There are people who would claim that I'm too old to still be a part of fandom space (especially things that originated when I was already an adult). But I think being in my 30s when the series began and in my 40s now gives me a unique insight into things, in that I'm an age-peer to a lot of the people who worked on the show. I don't come across as a silly kid, I come across as a mature adult. That made me trustworthy and on equal footing with the crew, so they were willing to talk to me in private about things (and even, in some cases, give me gifts that the public didn't get to see).

Fandom has always been led by adults, and fandom spaces were invented by women, of which I am both. But I never dreamed that the creation of my fandom blog would lead me to having days where I had so many asks in my inbox that I was too overwhelmed to even open it, or have to make hard and fast rules about what I didn't want to discuss, or create an FAQ for literally frequently asked questions. I didn't think people would look up to me, or find me too intimidating to talk to me off anon (hello to the handful of you who let me see who you are!). I'm just a person, just a fellow fan. If anything, this experience has taught me that everyone we idolize are just people, too. Sure, they might have a career or hobby that thrusts them into the spotlight, and fame and power might go to their heads, but they're really just people just like the rest of us. Just like you.

#Fan Mail #Answered

[kaz-identified]

houseofmcallister presents...

The Kaz-Identified Master Post / McAllister Introduction

A definitive breakdown of all of my fics, as well as my important links and some information about me.

some of these are on my main account, houseofmcallister. some of these are on my ko-fi. they're all my work though. not every work of mine is on here cause some of them deserve to rot.

five bells are ringing (oh, birds have been singing) - five bells, coco and the butter fields ^ kaz's favorite song of all time

kazzy's requests are: OPEN! find rules here!

Twenty-twenty-twenty four hours to go. I wanna be sedated.

Series Masterlists

A Wolf Walks Into An Apartment Masterlist In which five or so highly powerful Guardians are forced to adapt to their new friend, the Young Wolf. Genre - Comedy Rating: 13+ (Swearing, mentions of drug use, sexual humor, inappropriate language, existential ponderings) Created by houseofmcallister media with the aid of friends

Said to the devil, devil do you like drums?

Drabbles Recommended Work:

Field Patch Uldren x Young Wolf (Canon Divergent Timeline - House of Wolves) In which wounds, and bad attitudes, are treated. Genre - Fluff Rating: 13+ (Inappropriate language, mention of injury) notes: ko-fi exclusive!

No grave can hold my body down, I'll crawl home to her.

One Shots

Recommended Work:

Do or Drown Crow x Young Wolf In which confessions are shared. Genre - Fluff Rating: 13+ notes: Author's personal favorite.

I'm the ruler of everything, in the end.

OC Lorebooks

Recommend Entry:

Mine and Mine Alone Young Wolf Howling

For he has cast down Leviathan, the tyrant, and horse and rider

Original Works

Risky Gamble Sunset Chasers The Gambler, Last Outrider Arcadian of the Dawn Riders' introduction In which a fool opens her mouth and it almost gets her killed Genre - Fantasy Rating: 16+ (Inappropriate language, references to sexual content) notes: the first piece in my original series, Sunset Chasers

What's cooler than being cool? ICE COLD!

About the author!

Hi! I'm the guy writing those pretty words for all of you!

I'm Shepard, or Kaz on here I suppose. Why the difference? Uh... I don't know. Blog name I guess. Kaz is a nickname a dear friend gave me. Short for Kazzymandias. Or, if you aren't sure, just call me McAllister!

At time of writng, I'm 18 years old. I'm a freshman at Xavier University, studying film! I like writing, as you can tell... and when I grow up, I'm gonna work at Bungie!

I like media in general but a highlight of the hits (my favorites) TV Shows: Pysch, How I Met Your Mother, Friends, Frazier, King of the Hill, and a lot of old Nickelodeon stuff... Anime: Jujutsu Kaisen, Blue Exorcist, Fullmetal Alchemist, Trigun... Movies: Hot Fuzz, Baby Driver, Mission: Impossible, Man From U.N.C.LE., A lot of action movies I can't remember... Music: Coco and the Butterfields, My Chemical Romance, Powerwolf, AC/DC, The Rolling Stones, Metallica, Twisted Sister, Sabaton, Hozier, Johnny Cage, Insane Clown Posse, Tally Hall, Eazy-E, Eminem... Games: Destiny, Call of Duty, Overwatch, Assassin's Creed, Persona 5, Tomb Raider...

Now here's some rapid fire funfacts.

My favorite president is Ulysses S. Grant cause I did a project on him in second grade! My designated technology color is white! My favorite color is green, pink is a close second! My favorite sport is football! I love the Cowboys, I'm from Dallas, sue me. And I'm a big Bengals fan! I fence! Not well, but still! I was a Girl Scout! My favorite subject is history! I'm actually not a very good English student!

I wish I was a little bit taller. I wish I was a baller. I wish had a girl who looked good, I would call her.

Questions I get asked about my work.

Q: Do you take requests? A: I do! On my ko-fi for speedier answers and here on tumblr to be answered when I have time!

Q: Who's your Guardian? A: Faolan! She's the Young Wolf I default to in most fics.

Q: How do you write so well? A: It's partially natural talent, I've been writing since, and I am not joking here, I was three years old and first learned to speak. But mostly it's just a lot of reading and watching to find out things I like and then using those skills. And it's also a lot of practice! I write all the time, on my notes app, in my friend's DMs, on tumblr, whenever, wherever. Persistence is the key to any skill!

Q: Do you write for other fandoms? A: Not at the moment! But eventually.

When they lay me down to die, going up to the spirit in the sky!

Questions I get asked about me as a person.

Q: Do you have a partner in real life? A: No! Believe it or not, I've never even had a crush in real life! I'm not really big on romance. Ironic, I know. Q: Who's your favorite character? A: In all of fiction? Eli Monpress. But my like, number one hehehoo <3 character is Dante Sparda. I like my men very cocky and a little stupid.

Q: Favorite song? A: Five Bells by Coco and the Butterfields!

Q: Favorite trope? A: Friends to lovers is my bread and butter.

Q: Favorite game? A: Destiny. But besides that, I like Ghostwire Toyko!

Q: Favorite book? A: The Twistrose Key by Tone Almhjell!

Q: Favorite genre? A: Action-adventure! Especially the funny ones!

Q: Favorite TV show? A: Pysch! It totally influenced how I write comedy and talk.

Q: Favorite author? A: Can I be boring and say Shakespeare and Tolkien? They're the reason I write like I do.

Q: Favorite musical artist? A: Coco and the Butterfields! But Powerwolf is a close second.

Q: What's your username mean? A: Kaz-Identified was just a whim, there's no real meaning behind it. Houseofmcallister is a joke on my last name and old nobility.

Q: Any advice for writers? A: Practice! It's the only way to improve.

Give me a shot to remember! And you can take all the pain away from me!

And that's it! Wow, that's a lot of words!

So now you know me! Yay!

ao3: houseofmcallister main account: houseofmcallister buy me a coffee!

Don’t repost my work or I’ll eat your shoulder blades! I do not consent to my works being used for AI training purposes.

#intro post #long post #oh my god this took forever.