Guys look at Shiggy!! I'm in awe and super happy! Please show some love and support to @bokunocolor who did an amazing job! Thank you so much!!
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Her hands on Mary’s jaw, fingers wrapped underneath her chin, beckoning her to look up. Shannon’s divine in the light, scar tissue highlighted in the moonlight. Indents displaying her life, commemorating a memory. She can’t count the number of times she had traced those marks, creating a constellation of invisible lines.
A finger twitches, and Mary obeys. Muscles twitch as she drags her lips over the swell of her hip, pressing a kiss to the scar.
“Mary,” Shannon inhales, hips chasing as Mary pulls away.
“I love you,” she whispers, breath warm against soft skin. A hand drags across the back of her neck, intertwining in strands of hair. Tightening around the cusp of her skull as lips press against another scar.
Her fingers find it first, thin and smooth, a familiar mark in the latticework of divinity. Her lips find it next. A thin scar, barely two inches, stretched between two ribs. A result of a spear and recklessness.
“I have loved every part of you, Shan,” Mary breathes, another kiss, “I will always love you,” a third kiss, “nothing will ever change that.”
- Wounds of Christ Anon (yes the other one was sent prematurely)
Yes, I’m imagining Shannon back from the dead, returning to Mary. Mary as St. Thomas, not believing at first, dropping to her knees and tracing the evidence of Shannon’s Martyrdom; her holy wounds. She finds the wounds she had seen torn through Shannon’s body, the wounds that killed her, are now pale scars. She remembers every single lesion and puncture and hole the divinium tore through her lover’s body in terrible detail. She remembers it and sees it reflected exactly in the body before her. She can no longer doubt.
HELLO WOUNDS OF CHRIST ANON, YOU DID NOT DISAPPOINT.
Short (so far hehe) but sweet, thank you thank you thank you anon. This was a delight. (Fifth paragraph especially oh my god I was going wild over that all day).
Something about sainthood and martyrdom and the fucking WOUNDS OF CHRIST, DUDE.
* Ava silva voice* is this… is this our thing now??
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In cause u were wondering, here's the woe.bebug version for everyone
The Mikes are atlas moths
the hunters are bees (have yet to find a specific type)
ryan and topher are head lice
marissa is a cicada
chance and shadow are entognatha
jamilla is a silk moth (also have yet to figure out specifics)
edgar is a praying mantis
eagle is a dragonfly
sly is a stag beetle
and I still have no idea about matt anne and charlie
You have no idea how much I love this YES!! Lmfao at Ryan and Topher and also EAGLE IS A DRAGONFLY HELL YEAH!!! MY BELOVED EAGLE BEING ONE OF MY MOST BELOVED INSECTS!!
I wanna say Matt is a scarabaeus, mostly because of The Cellar Letters, but I also imagine him as a pill bug. Maybe because they seem so benevolent to me.
I also imagine Anne as a longish insect, like maybe a stick bug or a web spinner.
No idea about Charlie either! Maybe a ladybug? Or something that looks harmless but is parasitic or cannibalistic.
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Food for thought for my beloved, Rhaenyra catching them:
Jacaerys is on the balcony, elbow against the railing. It’s the first time she’s seen him in weeks. He’d moved out. They’d had an argument, an ugly one.
Even in the dark looking up at the balcony, she knows the shape of his silhouette, the bridge of his nose and tilt of his lips. Her firstborn son. Her heart aches.
She’d been grateful for a family function to bring him back to her.
His head tilts back towards the sky, loose curls wind-tossed. She wonders what he’s looking at. They used to stargaze when Jacaerys was quite small, still an only child and she and Laenor had been young, idealist parents. She is struck with fondness at the memory.
She blinks and finds her mouth bitter…a second dark head bobs up from the floor of the balcony. Her stomach twists at the realization of what she’d witnessed.
Rhaenyra knows the shape of this nose too, upturned like her own.
Lucerys. The reason for their argument.
She watches with a tightness in her throat as her favorite child springs up onto the tips of his toes to peck the lips of his elder brother with a filthy little mouth…
She’d been a fool to she her sons to be anything other than what she’d made them: Targaryen.
listen to me, i'm crying as we speak. like, literally crying, because this is so good, like so good. rhaenyra feeling a pang of nostalgia, because that's her first baby right there, and it turning sour so quickly as soon as she realises what's going on? i love it, like, it felt like an emotional whip, for her and for me, to go from elation and longing yo absolute bitterness in a second and i'm here for it all.
like, i need this like air and water and food. i need a full story of this, please please please. once again, you have full custody of my soul and i'm at your mercy, i need to read more of this!!!! you're such a genius, i will never get tired of it, and there's no jaceluke as yours, truly. they have captured my heart and i love you lots, i will kiss you and kiss your mind, you're brilliant! (also, imagine they kiss and then lucerys turns and sees rhaenyra and waves happily, thinking that she didn't see, i would scream dsgahgdfsah) <3
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Finally started watching Heartstopper and I’m making so many joyful gay screams and noises and omg my heart 💕
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somehow instead of saying "as a treat", I've started using the phrase "for morale", as if my body is a ship and its crew, and I (the captain) have to keep us in high spirits, lest we suffer a mutiny in the coming days.
and so I will eat this small block of fancy cheese, for morale. I will take a break and drink some tea, for morale. I will pick up that weird bug, for morale.
I'm not sure if it helps, but it does entertain me
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