#may be a little bit of projecting because i love picking at the inside of my cheeks until they bleed and they've also never healed. ahem

[mystristages]

during the first month when his fangs came in miguel was always spitting out blood because he would accidentally nick himself on his cheek or lip or tongue. he learns to work around them most of the time but the inside of his mouth has scarred over tissue that never really heals because his fangs just get in the way no matter how much he tries to ignore them

#entries #condemnation of memory #may be a little bit of projecting because i love picking at the inside of my cheeks until they bleed and they've also never healed. ahem

[mirrology]

— Rowdy .ᐟ ☆

୨୧ rowdy: ( noun) a noisy and disorderly person. (adjective) noisy and disorderly.

Ft. boothill, gender neutral reader. platonic. Wc: 722

Content: short bit of hc's and a small fic at the end, readers age is not specified, boothill being a little shit, he cares abt u tho, typical sibling shenanigans, sibling bonding, cursing, boothill may be ooc.

A/n: first ever platonic boothill fic /j, also this is kinda lazy but whatever.

He would definitely be one of those annoying brothers that come into your room just to look at you, then leave without closing the door.

but he genuinely cares about you and your safety considering his job as a galaxy ranger.

Boothill also definitely calls you runt, squirt, & kid no matter how old you are or no matter how much you complain.

Frequently ruffles your hair as a sign of affection, although this ends in bickering when you do your hair before it.

Definitely can't cook for shit, every time he tries to make something for you out of the kindness of his heart, he absolutely wrecks it.

It ends up burnt and inedible, and a purple aura around in a cartoonish fashion. and oh, the poor kitchen, you can't count how many times you've had to fix something. it has gone through a lot.

The two of you have sleepovers where you do skincare, watch movies and gossip about anything and everything.

you would think that Boothill is more of a horror movie and/or action movies type guy but he has a soft spot for sappy romance movies and the saddest films possible.

and if you feel like it, both of you talk about your love life.

Trains you by sparring in hand-to-hand combat, he usually wins the sparring, but you've gotten close to beating him.

After your training session you flop on the floor like a dead fish and beg him to carry you back inside, he obliges but not before teasing you for falling to the ground.

he picks you up in a princess carry or in a piggy back ride.

Boothill gives you things at the most random times, "oh but it's not a holiday or anything special today!" you can say but he won't care. accept his gift.

If you just as much glance at something in a store for 1 millisecond you'll find said thing in a gift bag with a little note, handwritten by him.

Since he's part robot he can't drink water or even touch it or he will malfunction, even though he's made to sustain the harsh weather of the desert and attacks from the criminals he hunts down.

so if he's being stubborn and does go through with touching water, you're the one who (quite literally) brings him back to life.

and because of this you've become well-versed in technology. you constantly fix anything that is wrong, such as a jammed finger. Although can't seem to get rid of that swear filter that he's unfortunately stuck with.

Overall Boothill is a very fun elder brother who wants to keep you safe.

You woke up to the feeling of being moved from your spot on your desk. you had been working on one of your tech projects, spending hours on end tinkering away in your room. You cracked one eye open, sleep pulling at your eyes, wanting them to close one more. You were met with the familiar face of your brother above you. then you registered the feeling of his hand on your back and underneath your knees.

Boothill noticed your sleepy gaze on him, and he smiled cheekily, "Heya, runt. I see ya' woke up" he chuckled in amusement at your disheveled appearance. He laid you down on your bed and placed the covers over your body, you immediately sank into your mattress and the soft feeling of the blanket on top of you was making you sleepier.

"Jeez, how long have ya' been up?" His smile dropped a little as he noticed a faint outline of dark circles underneath your eyes. "dunno..." you slurred out and turned to your side, facing him. "Hey, big bro?" you quietly said, Boothill raised an eyebrow "yea?" he asked.

You softly grinned, "Love ya'" you said, then suddenly being interrupted by a yawn. there was silence as your eyes drooped and eventually closed as you fell into a deep slumber.

Boothill stared at your sleeping face, it wasn't exactly surprising that you had said that you loved him. It was just that you didn't say it often, it wasn't that you didn't want to. Boothill's schedule is almost always full, so spending time with him can be hard. A rare soft smile graced his features and he reached over to caress your head.

"I love ya' too, kid." He whispered.

#reader insert #x reader #boothill #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #gender neutral reader #hsr x reader platonic #hsr platonic #platonic relationships #boothill hsr #boothill honkai star rail #boothill x reader platonic #boothill x reader #reader input #gn reader #child reader #teen reader

[rottmntsimp]

Hello how are you? I hope you're doing good.

If i can request Casey jr x female!human!reader? Platonic, fluff hc.

About reader - who isn't related to turtles or April, you can say they met at school - is begin a sweet person and understanding, when she met CJ she didn't push him to open up and waited for him to be comfortable, she knows a lot about cooking so she's making a lot for Casey and whatever he wants.

Personal chef

Pairing[s]: Casey Jr + Reader A/N: Part 2/2 of the B'Day double upload!! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!~

Casey

💖 - Ok, let's say it's about a few months, maybe a year post-movie. Casey's settling into this new life, and is still currently adjusting to his new lifestyle!

💖 - Oh boy. Lowkey, I would expect this kid to be really excited about going to school.

💖 - Meeting kids his age, learning, being out in the public and not having his life in constant danger? Sign him up!

💖 - He's not...the brightest per say, but he's willing to learn! He never had time for a proper education in the apocalypse, and will probably require some heavy tutoring.

💖 - That's where you come in!

💖 - After April's mother so kindly offered to be the one to enroll him, she made sure to include the fact that he may be a bit behind and would probably require some extra classes.

💖 - First day, he was in the principal's office during lunch, waiting for his supposed tutoring buddy. With how he'd seen kids walk in late to class all day, he sort of expected you to walk in late, but to his surprise you were right on time!

💖 - Walking in, you introduced yourself to him, smiling sweetly, a stark contrast from the behavior he's seen in the hallways. Of course he's still on guard, but it's nice to see a green flag every now and again, right?

💖 - Since Casey doesn't really have a "normal" place, and won't open up on where he lives, you guys decide to have your tutoring sessions at your place!

💖 - Imagine his surprise when after each and every session, without fail, you send him off with a treat or two.

💖 - He'll probably put it aside once he gets to the lair, afraid that it might be poisoned or drugged or whatnot, but after seeing Mikey and Leo munch away at them, he starts to warm up to you.

💖 - Before you know it, he might even bring a snack or two himself [either having Mikey bake them, or just buying something off of a street vendor]

💖 - You guys sit next to each other at lunch!!

💖 - If you eat alone during lunch, pray that you're fine with him tagging along, because once he's hooked, he's hooked.

💖 - And if you have any friends, don't feel shy to introduce him to them, he may not open up to them easily, but he's still kind!

💖 - I hope you like to bring snacks to school, because my guy will be hungry during class [What?! I'm not projecting onto him lmao /sarc]

💖 - If you guys get to a point in your friendship where he's really comfortable with you [most likely after years of knowing you], he might introduce you to the others!!

💖 - Speaking of the others, you know for a fact he's ranted about your cooking to Mikey before. Hell, he'll probably act as a little messenger boy while you two swap recipes-

💖 - He loves that you're so patient, and might even feel a little guilty for not opening up that much, but it'll all be worth it, because trust me, you guys are going to be attached to the hip at one point.

💖 - If he ever sees you getting picked on at school, he will sock the person hurting you in the jaw.

💖 - He might be a little over protective, almost like an overbearing father or older brother, but give the kid a break, he survived an apocalypse!

💖 - On the topic of the apocalypse, he might not tell you about the whole time travel thing until years later.

💖 - He half expects you to burst out laughing and call him a madman.

💖 - To say he was surprised when you just sat there, looking so...genuine.

💖 - He couldn't help but warm up inside as you hooked onto every word he said. Listening as he spoke of his sensei and his mother with such genuine interest it made him feel as though he'd lucked out. As though he'd won the friendship lottery.

💖 - At this point you guys have no secrets whatsoever, to the point where you two share passwords for random stuff. Spotify, Gmail, hell even your phones.

💖 - Teach him how to cook, oh please-

💖 - His taste buds were ruined after surviving off of rats for years.

💖 - If you and Mikey ever meet, please band together and show Casey the joys of working in the kitchen.

💖 - He may not be good on his first try [or possibly ever] but you'd be lying if you said it wasn't fun having him around.

💖 - Make sure to introduce him to different cuisines as well!

💖 - Chinese, Mexican, Indian, everything!

💖 - I am a firm believer that Casey will not hate anything till he has tried or seen it at least once.

💖 - Expect him to be a bit sentimental about things.

💖 - Maybe on your friend-aversary, he bakes you a batch of the first treat you made him.

💖 - Or maybe on your birthday he takes you out to the first place you guys hung out!

💖 - And yes, this guy will be your taste tester for everything.

💖 - Although he may not understand the concept of "good food," teach him and he'll learn! Explain to him how to recognize if there's too much salt or too less seasoning, and before you know it-

💖 - ✨Refined taste palette✨ /j

💖 - But yeah, overall, I feel that your friendship would help him grow more as a person. And as soon as he recognizes that, he'll make sure to shower you with appreciation <3

Taglist:

@lemme-be-cringe-damnit @sleepytime-fics @ray-of-midnight-storm @hamthepan @charismakat @flapajacker

#rottmnt x reader #rottmnt casey junior x reader #casey junior x reader #rise casey jr #CJ #casey junior #rottmnt casey #tmnt x reader #tmnt 2018 x reader #rise casey x reader #simps fics

[eoieopda]

the one with jihoon and the gold medal

pairing: lee jihoon x gn!reader type: drabble | genre: fluff | rating: pg15 | wc: 800 au: best friends to ? summary: jihoon is the featherweight champion of pining. he’s also pretty adept at getting you home from the bar at the end of the night. cw: reader is drunk, jihoon is down bad, and the ending is up for debate. a/n: i wrote this in jihoon’s pov, and i left it very ambiguous about what reader’s feelings are. i’d love to hear your thots 👀 🔞 MINORS WHO INTERACT WITH ME AND/OR MY CONTENT WILL BE BLOCKED, WHETHER OR NOT THE CONTENT IS NSFW. I’M AN ADULT WRITING EXCLUSIVELY FOR OTHER ADULTS.

There are two things that Lee Jihoon knows for sure he can’t do.

He can’t drive, which has no meaningful impact on his day-to-day life. The world doesn’t start or stop turning because he doesn’t have his license, despite what his friends seem to think. The fact that he can’t drink would — theoretically — be a little less shitty if he could drive, though. 

Because that’s not the case, he’s always the only sober person on any given night out. Worse, he can’t even get his shitfaced friends home without attempting to wrangle them on public transit. That, for the record, is a nightmare far above his fucking pay grade.

So, more often than not, Jihoon doesn’t stick around for the drinks that always follow dinner. He shows up, eats his weight in white rice, and when there’s nothing left on the table but a mess of empty dishes, he bails. He’s got a routine down, executes it flawlessly every time.

Almost every time.

Tonight may have slipped away from him, but it’s not his fault — it’s yours. If you hadn’t squeezed his forearm while laughing at one of his jokes, Jihoon would be home free by now. But you did, and he’s not, and he’s somehow finding it difficult to categorize this as a failure.

No, the way you get the tiniest bit more affectionate when you’re tipsy feels a hell of a lot like success. Just for a little while, Jihoon can let you tuck yourself under his arm; and he can pretend he’s not trapped in the silent hell that is yearning — and oh, god, does he yearn. You, however, come with a price tag. 

For the astronomical cost of the most meaningful friendship he has, he could clue you in on the pining. Check the temperature, see if your heart sounds like a cartoonish, old-timey car horn whenever you see him. That’s a bigger risk than Jihoon’s willing to take, and even if it wasn’t, he wouldn’t know where the fuck to start.

“I ah-wooga you”? 

Absolutely fucking not.

Jihoon doesn’t realize he’s gazing at you until you toss a crinkled-up chopstick wrapper at him. It bounces off of his unsuspecting chin, drops down into his lap. He blinks while he buffers, then he stares at you with an incredulousness that’s entirely manufactured, mouth hanging open. More than anything, he’s impressed by your aim in this state.

“Since when can you astral project, Jihoonie?” You ask with a laugh that’s likely a lot louder than you realize.

He’s impassive on the outside, but on the inside, he’s a puddle of goo. When you’re buzzed, he’s not oppa anymore — just Jihoonie — and it makes his knees wobble. To distract himself, Jihoon picks up the ball of paper and fires it back at you with shocking precision. Your eyes cross, almost in slow motion, as you watch it hit the tip of your nose.

Bullseye.

Pretending to be chill about any of this, Jihoon shrugs and says, “None of your business,” just to see if you’ll pout — and you do, you do, you do. He’s doomed, he realizes with a smile he can’t fight off. Oh, well.

You pick up your drink and down what little’s left of it before gesturing his way. The ice cubes clink against the glass. Uninhibited, he thinks, just like you. Donning puppy-dog eyes, you announce, “I think I need to go home now.”

There’s no question included because there’s no reality in which you’d ever have to ask. Jihoon is on his feet before you can punctuate that statement, hand held out to haul you up to yours. You squeak — an acceptance of his offer, he dares to presume — and then you take his hand.

You don’t let go once you stand up, which he attributes to your unsteadiness. Still, it doesn’t make him any less grateful for the way your fingers take up residency in the space between his. 

Even if it’s all he can be, he’ll be your anchor. If it means physically steering you towards the train station and hovering nearby when you attempt to befriend every living being — human or otherwise — that you encounter along the way, so be it. If he winds up loving you harder with every staggered step you take in the wrong direction, well… What else is new?

“Ready?” He asks with a tilt of his head towards the bar’s front door.

“Set, go!” You shout, and you sure as shit do.

At a rate of speed he could’ve never predicted, no less.

It’s a mad dash to the exit — one he wasn’t ready for, and one that nearly makes him fall over — but he keeps pace with you, like always. His foot crosses the threshold first, as a matter of fact, so he turns his head to brag to you about it. You’re already looking at him, grin beaming like a fucking spotlight, and he doesn’t need to state the obvious. 

Jihoon knows he’s the winner.

#re: the one with jihoon and the gold medal #jade writes #jade’s drabbles #ljh #svt #lee jihoon #seventeen #jihoon #woozi #svt drabble #svt fluff #svt imagine #svt scenarios #jihoon drabble #jihoon fluff #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenarios #woozi drabble #woozi fluff #woozi imagine #woozi scenarios #jihoon x reader #jihoon x you #jihoon x y/n #woozi x reader #woozi x you #woozi x y/n

[unlikelyjapan]

s2e6 rewatch notes - part 1

I'm breaking this up over two days (for length, clarity, and my own mental health) - I pause and scribble my way through scenes as I go, so there may be a few repeats here and there.

Natalie's bereft face in the opening, attempting to disassociate but failing miserably because that's not her coping style. She obviously doesn't even smoke by the way she's holding the cigarette, she just does it because - much like working inside a commercial kitchen - it's the only legitimate excuse for a break from the chaos. Both she and Mikey act like they've just exited the fog of war (because they have) and - unlike Carmy - they've never had the emotional or material means to escape it.

Sugar's "No one can make anyone else act a certain way" comment to Mikey - it's very clear that they perceive mental illness from very different angles. Mikey admonishes Natalie for her check-ins as an attempt to blunt/control Donna's outbursts, and Sugar's skepticism of Mikey's strategy of just riding the lightning/ignoring the outburst (while acknowledging that he and Carmy have more success, but she attributes most of that to being the female middle child of a grievously ill female narcissist).

Carmy coming out = a hot mess of family dynamics. He asks Mikey (innocently enough) to come in and handle the crowd by being "fun cool guy" and Mikey assures him that he will, but with a vacant look in his eye (no wonder this man was on drugs, what other choices was he afforded?). Fak is literally yelling indistinctly inside, upping the chaos, as Richie bursts outdoors amidst the three siblings to ask if "there's any family shit going on that he should know about".

Along with just trying to be ok themselves, these three adult Berzattos are a magnet for every other wayward adult-child who needs a home to reckon with their own trauma, and their inclusion becomes their problem as well and only ups the frequency of the despair. Mikey literally makes space for the three of them by dismissing Richie "for a minute", and you can tell that's not normal protocol.

"Would it kill you to pick up the phone?" - Carmy is already wounded by Mikey more than 4 years before his death. You can immediately tell by Mikey's earnest response (along with his previous discussion with Sugar) that he was just keeping Carmy at arms length to ensure he never returned, to spare just one of them from a life of hardship. In spite of everything else we see about Mikey and how poorly he manages his trauma in this episode, he is an inherently good brother who started early in inciting loathing in the person he loves above all others just to save him.

I wanted to peek behind the "Our Mother of Victory, Pray for Us" bit, as you know damn well it wasn't selected by Storer by accident. The whole idea is that Mary, the Mother of Victory "pleads our cause with a mother’s heart and concern with whatever we bring her. Confident that Our Lady’s prayers are always heard we pray"

I may be reading too much into this, but that's a whole fuckton of power projected onto Donna. Even though it's said in jest, its maternal compassion and mercy that was never extended to the Berzatto kids. It could also be seen as "only Donna's prayers are heard and answered" (through the placating and emotional gymnastics performed by her children) so they utter this little prayer to her as much as they do to God - for control, for relative calm, for the day to simply be ok. They know better than to expect much more than that.

What is the actual point of Fak and Ted? I mean this narratively. I know that the Ricky actor who plays Ted originally worked on the set of The Bear in S1. Did the producers think they had an awesome "boys club" vibe and just plop them in as chauvinistic comic relief? Or is this part of a long-con? Do Fak and Teddy embezzle all of The Bear's money and retreat to Hawaii or something? Right now it's giving "Matty Matheson needs to sell more cookware" and I need a reason for this set-up, as the rest of the players offer more than enough relevant chaos to the episode.

Also, when they ask "Mrs. B, are our skateboards in here? Can we sleep over?" as Donna is cycling in the kitchen - Matty Matheson is in his 40's, so he time-traveled back to a rough-looking 35 to freeload off of his fake-besties Mom and aid in her spiral? I don't get the age timelines/ideas on what arrested development in this show are anymore....

"Say the fucking words" - ooof. I feel like a lot of ink has already been spilled on what the word "love" means in the Berzatto realm, but no wonder Carmy can't comprehend it even when it's right in front of him. Love to him is sacrifice and struggle, panic attacks, pacifying meltdowns, idealization and inevitable betrayal (hello other shoe!), and just saying the word because it diffuses an argument - not unlike rubbing one's chest.

So....what's the likelihood that the abusive chef at EMP is just a projection of Donna living rent-free in Carmy's head at this point? The way she lobs the ball at Carmy with all of the elements that need to be swapped when the timer goes off, the practical matters of running a high-pressure kitchen trailed with jests and insults and total emasculation. Yeah...I think it's pretty high up there.

The second Richie and Carmy trade off the homemade Sprite (before Carmy can grab the prosciutto and mortadella that his mom asked for 2 seconds ago) is just enough silence for Donna to feel abandoned and start unravelling again/start screaming about moving the pot. I can't quite place my finger on the weird amalgam of mental illnesses they gave this woman (hit me up, psych majors) but if its not over-scripted/acted, its a lot.....

Richie and Mikeys "Just take a break from being a mopey little fuck" - phew, these dudes really think that a high-school chick will be Carmy's salvation.

"I don't have a love of my life?" Carmy doesn't even flinch or show recognition of who they're talking about at first, and then it dawns on him that they've probably embarrassed him and he wants to crawl in a hole and die (which is the most honest feeling expressed this episode to date).

And wow. Donna intercepts the whole thing by throwing a spoon at Stevie and screaming "Richard, bring her the fucking pop!" - a.k.a the title of the previous episode with the house party. Those words ended the gang's harassment re: Claire, but then future Carmy willingly waded right back into the abyss of thoughtless conversations, bullying, projections, others' expectations, and the terrible Christmas.

Ok, that's it for now - I'll be back on my bullshit tomorrow.

#the bear fx #the bear season 2 #the bear spoilers #the bear #carmen berzatto #carmy x sydney #carmy berzatto #mikey berzatto #sugar berzatto #the bear fishes #syd x carmy

[chimielie]

little by little, we'll meet in the middle

summary: Oikawa x F!Reader (slight/past Iwaizumi x Reader). You and Oikawa are two moons - now that you've been pulled into each other's orbits, you can't seem to pull away. Even when you probably should. Sequel to Honeybee.

word count: 1k

cw: one mention of unhealthy eating practices. weird past-life-soulmateism. Yearning.

a/n: this is a part two, so i recommend reading in order to sort of understand the love triangle/knight x king/past life bullshit that's happening here, but honestly i don't know how much it'll help. it's a little bit of a the raven cycle au, but not quite? happy birthday IDIOT @ oikawa tooru. i love u or whatever

Your hands are calloused: at the base of the fingers and the web of the thumb. You brush a careful touch over the inside of Oikawa’s wrist, sweeping your thumb over his pulse point. Checking that he’s still alive. Warm touch and pulsing heart persisting.

You let go when he shifts the car into parking gear, pulling with both hands on the parking brake. It’s an old car, and only as reliable as its owner. 

He tries not to think about the combined delicacy and roughness of your hands, tries not to add another scrap of evidence to the pile that says he saw you first and he saw you true. It’s a pointless collection, like so many of his little passion projects. He couldn’t help building it, his jealous hoard of the moments where you were his and his alone. Guiltily, each brick had been laid and mortared from the moment he’d watched his best friend fall (clumsy and boyish, in a way he so rarely allowed himself to be) in love with you.

Even now, when Iwaizumi’s eyes are far from the both of you, even now that you are technically unburdened by belonging, the stiff line of duty is in your back and his vision. He keeps his eyes carefully away from you; if he looks at you for too long, his tongue finds words that shouldn’t be said. 

Your posture is as straight as the pines surrounding you, picking at the sandwiches you burned for lunch. Prosciutto and melted cheese you’d found unlabeled in the fridge, the crusts literally rimmed black, still a little warm to the touch even all the way into the blue mountains.

It’s a little fuck-you to him. He had called and said come on a drive with me. And you had fought him, snapped that you were in the middle of making lunch. Make me some, too, then, he had said indifferently, I haven’t eaten anything yet today. And you had been waiting at the curb, standing up straight with one hand shading your face and the other holding a bag of sandwiches. 

“Where are we going?” You asked, sliding into the passenger seat, stowing the sandwiches between you. This carefully curated space is present, always, a barrier never let down by both of you at the same time. 

“Nowhere,” he shrugged, kicking the car into gear. “Anywhere.”

The long-unused backroads are exactly in-between. Blue-green trees block out the sky, ushering in a soft not-quite night in the middle of the day, blurring that hard line. 

“They’re burnt,” you say, shoving the food into his hands. Three extras, just for him, because you worry about the way he gets distracted, gets obsessed, forgets to eat. Three burnt sandwiches, because you want to show him that love isn’t going to soften you, that whatever past you may have had (knight; king; lifetimes ago) your future doesn’t involve cooking at home while he rules the court. You wear your principals like you once wore gleaming metal armor.

He sees it in flashes. Reaching out, palms open. Hands calloused by the grip of your sword. A chalice, lifted to your lips, helmet removed and hair loose. Voice strong and sure, swearing fealty (voice soft, warning him of impropriety. Of the dangers of consorting with peasants). 

Lips, dry and still as he swallowed your fears.

“I don’t mind,” he says, and you look away from him. Everything feels raw and too real.

“What do you want to do for your birthday?” You say, because you don’t know what to do with his vulnerability. With-your-friends Oikawa is so different from talking-to-adults Oikawa is so different from just-your-Tooru. He’s water, slipping through your fingers even as he’s still rising around you, threatening to swallow you whole. 

He knows what you’re doing, too, because he knows that the boys are planning a surprise party away from his family, that you’re not supposed to snitch on the plan but would in a second if he pushed. You can’t lie to him.

He worries that the corollary is true: That he can’t lie to you. That you see him for what he is. 

He gives you a wry smile, telling you that he’s playing your game. “I want to go to the moon.” He’s been saying it since he was five, even when it stopped being true and became a tradition he was locked into.

“Of course you only want what you can’t have,” you laugh, and the words don’t lodge as painfully as he thought they might. “I can give you a star, Tooru, is that enough?”

“I guess,” he gives a prissy shake of the shoulders. “I could accept a promise.”

You don’t laugh, like he’d planned for. Instead, when he looks over at you next, you’re looking at him with an expression like—the sunset, honey melting over the horizon. Warm.

Oikawa shivers.

“I can give you that,” you say, voice small in your throat. He feels wildly unmoored in time, slipping between this life and the last; this love and the last; doom and destiny, woven together in a single thread. His head is heavy. Outside, the trees block sheets of misty rain. “Can that be enough?”

Your face is serious when he looks at you (can’t look at you too long, can’t let it show on his face), but your eyes shine. You’re looking at him—he feels dizzy with it—like he’s the sun. Like he’s a king.

You wrap gentle fingers around his wrist and tug him closer. The world is quiet, here, with you. His and his alone.

You keep your eyes steady on his, chin lifted in determination, always ready to fight. He runs a finger over the back of your hand, the one holding him. You don’t look at his mouth and you don’t let go.

He knows what you want because he wants it, too.

He lifts both of your hands and puts your palm over the lower half of your face. The center of the universe is your mouth. You stay still while he positions you, not even surprised; you know him.

Slow: he leans in, presses his lips to the back of your hand. Your eyes shut; he watches you as he lingers. The barrier hasn't been knocked down, yet, but this is him laying siege.

“A promise,” he says against your skin. “Is all I need.”

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq!! x reader #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa toru x reader #oikawa tōru x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #haikyuu!! angst #haikyuu!! fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu angst #haikyuu!! x reader angst #haikyuu!! x reader fluff #hq x reader angst #hq x reader fluff

[irregularcollapse]

One of the ones I had picked out you already answered but here's two more if you want to 😇: 💖🤩

Yes of course my dear!! These are interesting and I'm quite blabby atm

💖 What made you start writing?

i write because i love stories, and i know what stories make me feel, so i want to give that to other people. i write because i have things i want to say about love, and it's the best soapbox i have. i write because i love words and what they can do. i write because i love people, and i want to know people better, and i think that writing is the most i can give. i don't know if i fully understand the concept of love languages, but i think that if writing stories were a love language then that would be mine.

i started writing CaPri fic because i reread the books early last year (i first read them 2013-14ish) and they were fun. i hadn't been able to write anything in a few years; i was very ill, and then i got a hodgkin's lymphoma diagnosis, and then i had chemo, and then. then what?

the thing they don't really tell you about cancer recovery is that the all clear is not the all clear, because your body and brain still remember and it can hit you at the most random times in the most random places. i couldn't make my brain do what it was supposed to do: i couldn't focus on reading; i couldn't work my imagination; i couldn't write. i thought that nothing could be as bad as cancer, but actually, worse than cancer was the knowledge that i had lost stories. i thought i'd never get them back, and it would always be this reminder that i may have recovered physically but my biggest joy was gone, so what was the point?

on a whim, i reread CaPri. i was also taking a lot of baths at the time, due to chronic pain (physical recovery didn't last long, it seems). while in the bath, i'd watch Outlander, because i'd seen it before and it was sort of trashy and crazy and overblown. sidenote, when i first saw it, i gave up halfway through the third season bc it just got too absurd for me. anyway, i was taking Outlander baths, and then i also managed to finish a CaPri reread within a couple of days. it's a little bit funny that they are really not long books lmao but anyway

an idea sort of spawned, and then it sprouted, and then it grew. i was not expecting to be able to sustain it, but i always say that you should take inspiration where it comes and do what you can with it. so i did what i could with it. and i took the story where i wanted to take it. and i wrote about love: finding love, of course, a mythological and life-altering love, but more than that, learning to love yourself and reach the fullness of what you know you are capable of. it's more of a personal story than it may seem, and not even because i project onto Laurent all that much (i actually think i connect a bit more to Damen's insecurities, but i digress). because Laurent's story of self-actualisation was actually happening in real-time for me, as i was writing: while he was gaining his strength and finding his purpose and falling in love, i was also strengthening my writing; i was creatively purposeful once more; writing loved me back again. and like Laurent, i'm going to hold onto it with everything i have. i won't let it be taken away again.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

DAMEN. I love to write him from Laurent's POV; I love to get inside his head as well. His dry humour is especially fun for me, but I also think there is such meat in his anxieties and insecurities, and everything that weighs on him. I think people find it easier to recognise the peeling of Laurent's layers, and that for some reason they don't see Damen's so much: to show that happening in EIAT, the vulnerability he gradually allows that shows the building trust he has in Laurent, was one of the most intimate things for me. I'm absolutely loving the chance to do it again from his own perspective in ASTTE. It is once again a story about learning to love oneself, which means something quite different for Damen than it does for Laurent. I'm so keen to share it with everyone!

Thanks for these questions again <3 I appreciate you so much!

(Questions from this ask game!!)

#asks #ask game #my writing #captive prince #have decided to turn anons back on for a bit if you want to ask a question but are shy

[heytherejulia]

I'll be here with you if you need me ~ Peter Parker

pairing: homecoming!peter parker x reader

warning: mention of hospitals, slight mention of blood, swearning but mostly fluff

summary: all you need is a little bit of love from your boyfriend

word count: 1,5k

author's note: i haven't been here for a long time but i'm getting closer to my first examination session in college and going through my notes i found it in my drafts and thought it would be nice to actually show you something that i've written back in lockdown, love you all, jules xx

You were having a really shitty day and all you needed was a moment of peace in your boyfriend's arms, maybe hot tea and maybe a nap, so that’s exactly why you found yourself standing in front of Peter's apartment pulling the door handle. 

You didn't knock because you knew you didn't have to. Aunt May always was so kind to you, Ned, Betty and MJ, always so welcoming with open arms and a big smile on her face. There was complete silence in the apartment when you entered. The only sound you could hear was the clatter of plates tapping against each other. You headed towards the kitchen to say hi to your boyfriend's aunt.

‘Hi, May.’ 

‘Oh, hi, honey. Peter is out at the moment, but he should be back soon. If you want, you can wait in his room.’ 

You weren’t surprised at all. It was always like that, whenever you made plans together or just wanted to spend some time with each other, some villain had to attack at the exact time. You were aware that none of you two, not even Avengers, could possibly control when the baddies are gonna attack but it still was highly annoying.

You smiled at the woman and went to your boyfriend's room. To be honest, you haven’t been here as often as you would've wanted to. You usually met out in town with Betty, MJ and Ned or hung out at your place, so you were soaking up every minute of being in his room. 

It wasn’t much different than any other teenager's room you've seen, with a keen interest in studying. On the desk were torn books and notes, in the drawers you were sure were vials with his web fluid and the drafts of some projects, and on the cupboard above the desk there were several framed photos. Peter with May during his childhood, Peter with Ned at the chemistry contest, a photo of his classmates, Peter with Ned, Betty, MJ and you from one of your meetings, and the last photo of you and Peter smiling wildly at Ned as he took photos of you at the homecoming.

You were sitting like that for about ten minutes when the window opened and Peter crawled inside in his Spider-man suit. You were almost sure he didn’t notice you because he clicked a spider on his chest and the suit fell on the floor and Peter collapsed on the bed right away. He was a bit beaten up and had a few scratches, but nothing more than that.

‘Hey Peter.’ He shuddered and looked at you with a surprised expression. He got up from the bed and walked over to the chair where you were sitting.

‘Hi baby.’ As soon as he came over, you stood up and put your arms around his neck. He picked you up and sat you on the desk. He dug gently against your lips, placing one hand on the small of your back and the other on your neck. After a while, you broke away from him and nestled against his chest.

‘Good to see you.’ You whispered, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. A little bit too soon for your liking you stepped out from his embrace and took the first aid kit out of the drawer in his desk. 

‘Sit down, I'll fix it for you.’ 

You started cleaning his wounds and scratches on his face when Peter was just sitting there scanning your figure carefully.

‘You alright?’ His question didn't surprise you, because he could always notice the slightest change in your mood or demeanor. You weren’t really into physical affection or PDA. Yeah sure, you loved when Peter hugged you or when you were just talking about how you both feel, but you weren’t used to long cuddle sessions or pouring your heart out and weren’t so good at showing him how much you cared. 

The truth was that you both didn't have that many opportunities to be physically together all the time, so things like that happened rather rarely. Neither of you really have that much of a free time that you could use for just being together. Of course, there were times when you were able to just be there for each other, but it just happened from time to time. 

And to be honest, after a day consisting only of shitty events, you were just glad to feel his body heat against you. Your grandmother, who ended up in the hospital, your chemistry test that you most likely failed, and a fight with your parents effectively took away all your enthusiasm and any life energy. 

When you finished cleaning him up, you hugged him again. You remained in this position, with the question suspended between you two for several minutes, until you accidentally hit the box of pens with your hand and it landed on the floor. It took a moment to see that the organizer that had fallen was a ceramic mug with a photo of Peter and May. You felt even worse because you didn't want to break the gift that his aunt once gave him. You got up from the desk and started picking up the remains of the mug with shaking hands. 

‘I’m so so sorry, Peter, I really didn't want to break it, I know this gift meant a lot to you.’

‘Hey, hey, hey, take it easy, it's okay, nothing happened. Leave it or you'll hurt yourself.’ Peter took the broken parts of something that used to be his mug of pens out of your hand and threw them into the trash. ‘Are you sure you're okay?’

You stared at him, knowing you were about to cry if he kept looking at you like that. With so much worry and concern. You just shook your head.

‘Nanny is in the hospital. Doctors aren't that optimistic about her chances of recovery.’ You whispered. Peter froze in place, just looking at the window behind you for a moment. He looked back at you. 

‘I'm so sorry, Y/N/N. Come on, I'll make you some tea.’ You followed Peter to the kitchen, noticing on the way there that May had already left for work. You watched the boy turn on the electric kettle, then he took out two colorful mugs and threw green tea leaves into them. After a while, he put both teas on the table and sat down next to you. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ 

You thought about it for a moment because you weren't sure if you wanted to talk about it. Eventually you licked your chapped lips and started talking. 

‘Last week ... Nanna mentioned something about not feeling well, but then she said that everything is okay and she’s okay and now she's in the hospital because she had a heart attack. She’s lying there because I didn't go to visit her because I found that chemistry test more important than her. This is all my fault, Peter. Mine.’

‘It's not like that, baby, and you know it perfectly well.’ He knelt in front of you and took your hands in his. ‘You couldn't have predicted something like this would happen if she openly said she was fine and was feeling okay.’ He got up and pulled your hand and started walking towards the living room. You sat down on the couch, and Peter took the blanket from beside him and covered both of you, then pulled you to his chest and hugged you tightly.

‘I cannot promise you that everything will be alright, but I can promise you that I will be there for you all the time you need me.’ You smiled slightly.

‘What about the friendly neighborhood Spider-man? Who will be returning stolen bicycles to people at this time?’ 

‘I think Mr. Stark's suits may stop dusting for a while, and can replace me.’ he said, pecking your nose. ‘The friendly neighborhood Spider-man has to deal with his closest neighborhood and let go of chasing thieves in the streets of Queens for a while." 

You leaned over him and grabbed his face in your hands, then kissed him. Peter grabbed your waist and kissed you back.

‘Thank you. For everything, Peter.’ He smiled gently and pulled you to his chest again. You wrapped your arms around his waist and allowed yourself a moment to take a break from whatever had been on your mind lately. And you lay cuddled until the late evening, when May came home from work and called you for dinner. And you stayed with him for the whole week, you spent the afternoons in the same way like today, until your Grandma came home.

#peter parker x y/n #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fluff #peter parker x reader #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #tom holland blurb #tom holland fluff #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #the avengers #spiderman

[twojackals]

The Gateway

"I need an icon, an image of my God(s), it's $300 I can't afford it."

Hold up.

Just... hold up.

Go out into the world.

Yes, leave your computer. I believe in you.

Go outside, and walk as far as you need to walk, until you find: a rock.

What kind of rock? It's not for me to say. A small rock, a big rock, a jagged rock or a smooth rock, a beautiful rock, a rock only a mother could love -- the kind of rock is entirely up to you, and you will pick this rock from all the rocks because it calls to you and says "I am the rock". Trust me. It will happen. No, not… not verbatim. It's a vibe. There are no talking rocks in this equation.

TL;DR: a rock.

Take that rock home.

You're going to need some limited supplies and procedures.

First, you're going to want to wash your rock. Get all that dirt off of it, make it as clean as a little rock can be, though a little bit of dirt is certainly not going to be a dealbreaker. It's just a good idea not to bring a bunch of outdoor dirt inside unless you have intimate knowledge of the area the rock was in. Dirt may have more than just "earth" in it. In addition, I would recommend purification. Bury the dry rock in salt or clean sand for the next 24 hours before bringing it "into service" on your shrine or altar setup.

Second, you're going to need writing or painting implements. This could be a pen (if you feel it can actually, successfully write on your rock), a sharpie (very good for writing on rock), or paint! But if you're like me and can't paint in a straight line to save your soul, don't worry, use whatever you can use to write on this rock. I recommend steering clear of the color red in terms of paint and ink when thinking about my own Kemetic practice, but if your personal practice has no holds barred in terms of color selection, I am certainly not going to be a person to stop you.

Next, you're going to need a word, set of words, or phrase. Often, the word or words is going to be the name of the Deity you are trying to represent, but it could easily be something else if you feel so moved to go in a different direction. I am not teaching you how to be a cookie-cutter magician here, I am encouraging you to navigate your life and your choices on your own; but, for the basic guidance, a name is certainly sufficient. It's important to note that this name needs to be one you understand. Writing is one of the most powerful forms of magic in this universe, but if what you are writing is meaningless to you, you are losing a functional amount of this power because you are putting a lot of energy into basic comprehension. Choose a language or symbolism for the name you will be writing that holds meaning to you within your own mind and your own heart. You should see this name, these words, or this symbol or set of symbols, and immediately feel your Deity within the moment you see it and within yourself. It should be recognizable at a glance every single time. If you want it to be extra special in another language (particularly one of ancient origin), you want to ensure you comprehend it in this one-glance way. You should not have to sit and think and remind yourself "What does this mean". Instant recognition is what you are looking for.

Finally, you are going to paint or write this name, phrase, symbol or set of symbols, onto your rock, and while you are writing, you are going to be putting your energy in the form of 'intent' into this creation. There are a lot of ways you can do this. You could be thinking of the Deity in question while you do the decorative aspect of this project. You could be playing music, you could be singing, you could be chanting, you could be reciting a phrase or poem or set of words that holds meaning between you and your Deity. What is important is that you focus your intents into the writing of your Deity's symbolism whereby that rock is the focus point of this intent, and that rock in turn becomes your intent.

Yes, it's true: this simple, lowly rock, will be your icon, and it will be just as if not more effective than any other store-bought icon you could have possibly found on the internet because of the process you are undertaking now. Because it isn't about how closely your icon resembles your Deity. It isn't about how much money you've spent on your iconography, either. It isn't about new materials or old materials, it isn't about one person's interpretation or spelling of a name or another, it isn't about one particular kind of phrase or the exact words of a spell or chant or song. You do not need to spend $100, $300, $2,000 on a shrine icon, because the point of a shrine or altar or ritual icon is not what it looks like or who crafted it or what materials went into it.

The purpose of a shrine icon is all about:

Representation

Intent

Focus

Energy

Connection

Bond

And as you impart your focus and your intent, coupled with one of the most powerful forms of magic -- writing, you are creating and inscribing and imbuing a representation and embodiment of the Deity you follow, issuing a bond between you, Them, and that object that cannot easily be broken. This icon is going to be with you, on your shrine or altar or in your ritual setup, representing the powerful presence of your Deity and giving you a focus point for your communication, intention, energy, and direction.

Once completed, this icon should be treated with the same dignity and respect you would treat any altar or shrine icon that is representative of a Deity. You should keep it relatively clean, decently protected from harm or accident, in a purified state (which can include re-doing the salt or sand purification if needed), packed with care when moving, and deprecated in an appropriate manner if you will no longer be using it (probably a post for another time).

This is no longer just a rock.

This is a gateway, that you have created, and the bounds are limitless.

#polytheist #polytheism #paganism #kemet #kemeticism #kemetic #pagan #magic #magick #deity #deities #god #gods #goddess #goddesses #altar #shrine #ritual #spirituality #spiritual #religion #iconography #icon #writing #heka

[cafetxt]

Hi there! I saw you were taking requests so, if it’s okay with you, may ask for 23 and 99 with Taehyun please? I love your writing so much! It feels so real while reading, you’re so talented ToT Btw, do you have any bias/biases in the group? If so, who is/are? I don’t try to be rude by asking this but I’m sorry if I’m being too nosy T-T

Take care and don’t forget to drink water sweetie! 🌸

≡☆ 23.“it’s hard to get used to…” “what is?” “being someone that someone cares for…” + 99. “i don’t know what to do” “then let me teach you” + taehyun

genre/cw: angst if u squint, really really suggestive, but so soft + comforting :(( bc im so soft for this man

wc: 1.0k

a/n: hello hello! ahhh omg thank you soso much!! you're too sweet, that's a such a big compliment :((( and yes i do have a bias!! im a taehyun girl from infinity to infinity haha but lately all of them have been getting to me,, esp gyu and kai :') it wasn't a rude question at all lovely, if you have anymore i'd love to answer!! here is your req, i hope you like it <33 forgive me bc i might be projecting a little in this one

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“y/n?”

you blinked, finally snapping back to reality at the sound of taehyun’s voice.

you were lost in thought as you sat on your couch, overthinking—as usual—so much so that you didn’t even hear him enter your apartment.

“hey,” he says, immediately picking up on your mood. he crouched down in front of you and holds your hands in his. “what’s on your mind?”

you blink a few times as your mind went blank.

truthfully, you did have a lot on your mind. but you struggled at voicing your feelings and concerns and it made you feel guilty because taehyun was someone who was so articulate and had a way with his words. your boyfriend was always reassuring you and knew exactly what to say. and while it should’ve made things easier, lately it mostly made you feel like you were a burden to him.

“you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, love.” he says and gives your hands a comforting squeeze. “it’s okay.”

"it's not that i don't want to tae! i... i just don't know how to." you mumble, avoiding his eyes.

he smiles sadly and moves to sit beside you, all while keeping a firm hold on your hands. "it's okay, whenever you're ready to tell me you can. don't force yourself. i'm always going to be here, ready to listen to you no matter what, okay?"

you finally meet his eyes as tears started to gathered in your own. your heart swelled at the way he was looking at you, with so much love and admiration that it made you want to scream. what did i do to deserve him? you thought.

one of his hands moves to caress your cheek gently. "y/n? you still with me?" he jokes.

“no- it’s just- wow," you shake your head in an effort to collect your thoughts. "this is.. it's hard to get used to…”

he frowns as his thumb swipes across your cheek comfortingly. “what is?”

“being someone that someone cares for.”

taehyun stops for a moment, a bit stunned at your sudden confession. he releases his hold on your hand and shifts into a cross-legged position so that he can face you properly.

"baby," he starts as his hand reaches to tuck a stray hair behind your ear. "you better get used to it because me, caring? it's gonna be a long time thing."

you pout, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. "taehyun..."

"i'm serious y/n. i will always care for you." he affirms and something shifts inside of you. you held so much love for the man that sat before you, but you knew that no amount of words could describe what you were feeling right now.

"i know I'm not good with my words but i care for you too. so much." you ball your hands into fists to hide the small tremors that shook them, and look straight into his eyes. "i love you taehyun. and i-i want to show you that. to show you how i feel but... i don't know what to do."

a small smile appears on his lips as his fingers move to grasp your chin lightly.

"then let me teach you." he says softly, before he pulls you to him to brush his lips against yours delicately.

warmth spreads throughout your body at the way his lips move against your own. your hands move to rest on his chest briefly before your arms wrap around his neck as the kiss grows more heated.

he pulls away to look into your eyes for a moment, both of your breathing heavy as you try to catch your breaths. he presses a hand to your cheek before his fingers trace down the side of your neck, stopping at shoulder. he pushes your shoulder down gently, which makes you fall back onto the couch slowly as your heartbeat sped up in anticipation.

taehyun hovered over you before he used one hand to grasp your left one as he placed it on his lower belly underneath his shirt. your eyes widen as all the heat rushes to your cheeks at the feeling his toned stomach underneath your fingertips.

"put one hand here," he whispers, as he guides your hand up his torso. he releases his hold to grasp your other hand, which he places at the back of his neck. "and the other here,"

he stops to look at you and he grins slightly, enough to show his dimple and your heart leaps in your chest. he leans closer to you until your noses are brushing.

"this is the part where you kiss me." he says against your lips.

you giggle before you pull him towards you, capturing his lips with your own in a familiar kiss. you hesitantly swipe your tongue along his bottom lip and he opens his mouth eagerly as you let your tongue explore his mouth.

your hand on his chest moves to wrap around his waist and you pull him against you when he starts to suck on your tongue. he groans into your mouth when his waist comes into contact with yours, and it only makes your hold on him tighten as you felt the heat rush to your lower half.

you both pull away for air as taehyun trails a few sloppy kiss down your neck.

"taehyun," you start, your breathing still uneven. your hands slide down his sides to grasp the waistband of his jeans. "i want these off,"

he lifts his head to look at you and his gaze darkens. "you're getting the hang of this now,"

you bite your lip in anticipation. "i'm kinda a fast learner."

he presses his lips to yours quickly before he gets off of you. his fingers reach for the zipper of his jeans but he stops and holds his hand out to you instead.

"let's take this to bedroom, yeah?"

your whole body ignites at his words, and he doesn't have to tell you twice as you practically leap off of the couch to wrap your arms around his neck.

"let's," you mumble against his lips and he attaches your lips to his hungrily and doesn't let go as he leads you to your room.

#≡☆ sia's requests #kang taehyun imagines #taehyun x reader #taehyun imagines #taehyun suggestive #taehyun smut #kang taehyun smut #txt suggestive #txt x reader #txt imagines #writing this made me so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 #these prompts were too good!! #thank u sm anon 🌸 #i hope this is what u wanted <3 #cafetxt #unedited!!

[dystopicjumpsuit]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @deejadabbles! I've got a Neyo x the Bad-miral snippet today, and for once, it's SFW, though she does allude to their previous sexual encounter. This story is coming very soon to the @tcwmatchmakingau account, so for my readers who enjoyed "Everybody Hates Neyo," keep your eyes peeled!

Note: I converted the Admiral!Reader into an OC because she's 🎵The Worst,🎵 and I didn't want to project that onto my readers. Her name is Reeda Wai'yen as a nod to her origins, because I never met a pun I didn't love 😏

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, jaw clenched. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

[redacted for length]

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

---

NPTs: @wolffegirlsunite @enigmaticexplorer @523rdrebel @nika6q @freesia-writes @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar and anyone else who wants to join in! I probably double-tagged people; I apologize.

#wip wednesday #wip tag #commander neyo #neyo x the admiral #the bad-miral #dystopicjumpsuit writes

[xanuchi]

Oh my goodness! I just read your demonic sneeze request and it made me laugh since I also have a crazy loud sneeze. May I request Octavinelle reacting to a crazy loud sneezing reader as well? Thanks! 🥰😂

*rolls up sleeves* (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

Say no more, little rose. i got your back >:))))))

azul ashengrotto ; 🐙

Honestly, you'd scare this poor man right to dEATH whaT aRe yOU thiNKiNg, MC-san?!

He'd be currently addressing papers in his office, thorough organisation with contracts littered through his desk, various names engraved in dark golden signatures sliced through the line of the contract. he stood in front of the desk, humming away, instead of actually sitting behind it as he usually does.

He smiled to himself, like he had just build a house of cards with his sheer patience.

Then you decided to be a lil fuckin' menace and look over to your boyfriend to suddenly do a lil hooty smile, trying to hug him from behind. knock them cards down, shrimpy ~

We do a lil trolling, is called we do a lil trolling ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Suddenly, the dust suddenly swept over you the moMENT AZUL TURNED AROUND AND O H GOD ALMIGHTY a storm churned within your senses—

As you snuck up behind him, you accidentally sNEEZED DIRECTLY INTO HIS EAR AND BLINDING AND NUMBING THE FUCK OUT OF HIKJRKFKRNVJHDJ

Your sneeze was u n h o l y. THE POOR MAN SCREAMED LOUDLY FOR JADE AND FLOYD, THINKING HE WAS UNDER ATTACK

SHSHSJEJDUEJDJ all you had to say was NOTHING but heavy wheezing and panting, then you lifted your head as you felt another colossal sneeze building up once more—

He hides behind his desK aNd hoLY SHIT he wants to cower in his octopot.

He's bEGGING aNd shAKing iN feaR and he's so scared to ask what the fuCK that horrid noise was—

It sounded like satan gave fuckin birth through the torturous flames of hell and everything was in utter agony—

Wonders how the hell his own lovely, doll (Name)-san can project such a satanic roar of a sneeze- are all magicless humans the same? or are you just the few that can't conTROL tHe aIr rAId sIreNs.

" With that sneeze angelfish, you'll be able to reach across different countries and they'll be thinking God is being sacrificed."

floyd leech ; 🦐

You've experienced Rook, get ready for the ultimate leviathan.

Floyd flinches softly but other than that he didn't even baT aN eye.

The man literally just fucking heard a lamb being slaughtered, arson with satan probably, and every single bit of an agonising screecH FROM THE PITS OF HELL IN O N E SNEEZE—and he's like 🧍 "ayo shawty u good?"

He leans in, grabbing your chin softly and chuckling softly against your ear—

"Koebi-chan~ your sneeze is so cute. Wanna hear mine?"

No.

There's nO ESCAPING THIS BITC—

IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE BREAK OF DAYLIGHT, i SUGGEST YOU EVACUATE THE FUCK OUT AND DIP THE SCENE BEFORE HE CAUSES aN EARTHQUAKE iN MOSTRO LOUNGE— 🏃🏃🏃🏃💨💨💨

He sneezes directly in YOUR EAR E W H—

Mans fucking bROKE all of your senses by just screaming befORE HE SNEEZED WHO THE FUCK DOES THATIPSJDISOFJEODK!;&;&@4&

Imagine Siren Head but 10x louder- with the noises of a fuckin ostrich and god knows what's unholy, all fitted inside this literal scumbag of a eEL—

JADE DOESNT EVEN HELP— IN FACT THEY'RE BOTH GOING TO DO IT OUT OF SPITE AND JUST AS WORSE.

he does it out of love dw ;)))

jade leech ; 🦐

Unlike Floyd, he doesn't actually sneeze back but is rather surprised how his darling can even sneeze that loud—

He might as well get you in the ocean to wear off nearby predators because with that fuCKING sNEEZE IT WOULD WARD OFF ANYONE IF THEY HAVE TWO OR MORE BRAINCELLS— UnLESS THEY WANT DAMAGED EARS 💪💪

Jade picks you up softly, asking you if you're okay..

THEN SUPLEXES YOU TO THE FUCKING TABLE AND ASKS HOW THE FUCK DID YOU EVEN??? —

Yk— he won't even bother asking he'll just shut his mouth and probably call an ambulance to make sure you didn't put an imbalance on your bones or shit out on your organs or something—

No- wait. He'll just bring up fuckin poPe francis to baptise the fucking demon out of you and cleanse your whole body.

He haTes certain gerMs— especially bodily fluids and contact with him IT MAKES HIM HEURJRIFJJCE U GH—;;;

Mans will probably try to avoid you for the rest of the day because believe it or noT HIS HEART DIED INSIDE THE MOMENT SATAN SCREECHED ITS wEDDING VOWS OUT IN ONE SNEEZE—

He's scared you might do it AGIANDKAKJSJ but yk what— he'll get used to it the first or second time it happens.

Help i'm having such a bad day today but ofmgkrjfjf this cheered me up beyond anything,, tysm for requesting darling <33 !! xanuchi wishes you the best make sure to take care of yourself and dRINK SOME WATER U BUFFOON 🔫🔫🔫✨✨✨‼️‼️‼️

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #headcanons #x reader #fiction #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #floyd leech x y/n #floyd x mc #floyd leech #jade leech #jade x reader

[callipraxia]

Things I Learned This Morning:

1) Using print instead of script, which would be faster but less tidy, I may hand-write not far under 1300 words per hour when things are going well. (The exact number was 1267 words)

2) My brain harbors an irrational hatred for the number 4 apparently? (I kept almost skipping it and having to go back and erase the little number above fourth words because I wrote 4 as 5, for instance, going straight from 223 to 225 before I caught myself.)

3) Taking a pencil and individually numbering every word you wrote takes a really long time.

4) Apparently my brain also cannot handle writing a series of numbers that consistently go above two digits. I transpose digits, forget the first digit, write 8 instead of 3, write 5 instead of 8, write 2 instead of 9….I made it through the first 1000 but counted the remainder in blocks of 1-100 in the interests of staying tolerably sane.

5) My print is indeed much more legible than my script, but also, oww, my elbow feels like it’s about to crack right now and my hand feels all twisted up inside, ow ow ow.

(Backstory: I’ve been stuck in a rut for a while, so I decided to say “what the heck” and try to force myself to write a rough draft of one of my fanfic ideas for NaNoWriMo. I’m printing because I am currently Resolved to write a complete rough draft and then revise it, all before posting anything. Then, in theory, I’ll post it by chapter on an actual *posting schedule*. However, since I have never managed to muster the kind of discipline needed to keep working on a project nobody has seen and praised some part of for that long in my entire life…we’ll see. Plus, it might be easy enough to make it to the word count minimum today, but I only just finished the setup phase of the first scene, getting Pacifica from “the alarm clock rang” and through “Pacifica reflects on what mornings in Northwest Manor were like compared to her new life” to the point of “Pacifica has gotten out of bed.” That kind of writing is super-easy for me, but the kinds where things actually happen can be…much slower going. Which means I’ll have to apply even *more* discipline to make quotas on some days. So basically I, a deeply scattered and undisciplined person, am basically attempting to overhaul my personality for at least a month, lol. Wish me luck, folks….

For my GF peeps, I hope that you’ll enjoy the results if this project does amount to anything, even though it is a bit of a departure from my ‘usual’ material. You see, I have a lifelong, deep-seated love for books set in schools/based around school years, and I have decided to combine that with my desire to write some post-canon material. We’re picking up very shortly after the finale, with the first day of school in Gravity Falls - the Pineses should have some involvement, here and there, but mostly via phone and Internet. I’m sufficiently addicted to the “greater scope” that I don’t think I‘ll end up with something that is purely YA or a “girls’ book,” but it will involve focusing on more girls and therefore “girl stuff” than canon/anything I have written previously - Pacifica, Wendy, and Candy are all projected to be narrators, with Grenda also at least being an important character and possibly a fourth narrator. Compare to FWJB, where the narrators consisted of ten dudes, Bill, and Mabel…and although I put him in his own category, Bill does seem to use he/him pronouns when interacting with English-speaking mortals, and so one could very reasonably argue that the narrators consisted of eleven dudes plus Mabel. Soos may well get some narrator time, but this one also seems on course to primarily focus on the kid characters. Gulp. We’ll see how it goes….)

#writing #writing life #writer problems #nanowrimo #nano 2023 #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls fanfic #fanfic #fanfic problems #fanfic writing #wish me luck I’m gonna need it

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Hi there! Absolutely love your Eddie stuff! If I may, can I request something heartwarming – like the (male or gn) reader ends up giving Eddie a ride home when he gets caught in the rain and the two end up having a deep conversation that ends up in some feelings getting spilled? <3

Oh, we've got one dose of angst and fluff coming right up!

Eddie Munson x Male Reader

Send me request here! Currently writing for Eddie Munson. I write for a variety of reader inserts (male, female, gender neutral, POC too).

The more details you had to your request, the better it is for me. EX: “What about some fluff for Eddie after he’s had a long day?”

Feel free to look through my masterlist here!

_______________________

It starts all because of a project in English. You're placed into pairs, by Ms. Barlowe, to take famous scenes in Shakespeare's play to translate them into more modern times. It's only with a little bit of regret do you look over to Eddie's seat. He'd gone a little too hard last night on the gig at The Hideout and probably using the hangover as an excuse to sneak over to Reefer Rick's. The air was warming up. The grass and trees were turning a hair more green. He'd need more to sell soon and it's not necessarily a new practice for Eddie to take a random weekday to handle other means of business.

He didn't love having to do it, but he did what he had to do. And much like Eddie, you do what you need and you collect an extra of the instructions as they're passed out for Eddie. Ms. Barlowe beams from the front of the class. It was a project everyone knew was coming for their unit. She did it every year. Everyone talked about the "surprise" at the end which was pairs would perform their transcribed scenes.

The thing that truly sucks is that you know this is not an activity where you can pick your own partner. Pairs are selected before the project is introduced. Given Ms. Barlowe's track record, she was not going to pair people who always worked together up which means the likelihood of you and Eddie winding up together is slim and pushing zero.

The class shuffles about as pairs are put together. Your name is called and then you hear a name you think could freeze blood. "Jason Carver."

He scoffs. "Of course, the freak's little assistant."

You roll your eyes at the taunt. "If you're nice, I'll show you the ropes," you return lowly.

Jason's gaze is hot and full of disgust. "Do me a favor and drop dead."

"Scared that you might like it."

"Alright, you two!" Ms. Barlowe interjects. "I will not be reassign partners so you two are just going to have to learn how to work it out and get through this assignment."

You shrug. You'll survive but you can't help but feel a bit of smugness at the way Jason's seems absolutely uncomfortable at the idea. The rest of the class you two spend giving just long enough sentences to answer the questions but nothing that would constitute a real conversation.

By the end of the day, you head over to Eddie's place to find him strumming at his guitar, not plugged into any amp on the front porch a cigarette hanging from his lips. He grins as he spots your car pulling in front of the trailer. He is less pleased when you go digging into your backpack to pull out the dreaded manilla folder. He groans head falling back into the cushion of the couch.

"You just got here. Don't do this to me," he huffs, taking the folder from your hands.

"At least when I leave it'll be so much sweeter," you tease, falling into the seat next to him. Eddie is careful to lift the instrument and even leaves to get it back inside so it's safe. When he returns, two cans in hand, he extends one to you.

"You hate Coke?" you question. It's your favorite but not what Eddie normally goes for.

"Just take the damn soda," he mumbles around the button of the cigarette still pressed between his lips. You take the cold can with a nod. "Tell me this is the year where Barlow let us pick partners.

You shake your head. "Nope, I'm with Carver."

Eddie tries to tell himself he shouldn't be angry. Barlowe never lets people pick pairs for this project. Yet, he can't help the small flare and tick in his jaw. If Barlowe is going to give the class hell about not being able to pick partners, the last he wants for you is that you have a shitty one. "Tell me the prick is behaving?" Eddie should be more mindful of how the question comes out.

But you hear it--the way it's clipped and thick with disdain. Eddie is pissed. You opt not to tell him about the spat you and Jason have and especially don't tell him about Jason called you Eddie's "little assistant". Because sure you and Eddie were close, but you were just friends. And though it was painful to remind yourself of that, given how casually affectionate Eddie can be, friends is almost all you're most likely to get from Eddie.

Like right now, Eddie's arm is thrown around the back of the couch and he finds purchase on your shoulder. But it's casual. He's reclined back into the cushion, rings clinking against the can as he readjusts his grip on it. "I'll survive," you return. "How was your sick day?"

"Boring," Eddie laughs.

He rests the can on his thigh and thinks how his head splitting in half woke up him up. But what he wanted more than anything was to hang out with you. He wanted to hear you laugh and attempt to poorly sing the songs on the radio. Eddie wanted share bowls of cereal while watching you attempt to put together an itinerary for the day. You are a planner. He is the driver and it's how it always works--when the two of you want to get up to things, you plan, Eddie drives.

Eddie likes to think if he ever asked you to rob a bank with him, you'd already have a whole plan in place. And maybe sometimes it's just someone to sit at Lovers Lake and contemplate existence or staying hours in the local library curating the perfect stack of books to read.

All Eddie knows is that every second is better when it's spent with you. And the two of you talk almost until dark, creeping centimeters closer and closer. It's a knee first and then falling into each other as you laugh. It's easy here on the front porch of the trailer to give in to the gentle and probably not even noticeable taunts.

The project would go by like everything else except for when Eddie calls in the morning right before you're leaving to head to school. "The van's not starting, can I bum a ride?"

It's easy to say yes and when you show up to Eddie's place ten minutes later, he's quick to duck into the passenger seat. The sky is grayer than normal and you wonder if before spring fully blossoms winter plans on giving you one more dreary day. As you pull into the parking lot of the school, you call out Eddie's name softly over the quiet crooning of your car's radio.

"What's up?" he returns, hand already clutching the handle to let himself out. He doesn't want to make you late and he knows he's cutting it close by needing the last minute ride.

"I agreed to stay back to work with Jason for the last bits of this project. I don't know how long it's going to take but, uh, if you need someone else to give you a ride, I understand."

Eddie shakes his head. "I don't have anything else today. Unfortunately no hot dates have come my way yet," he laughs. It pains him to make the joke but he makes it anyway but that's what friends do, right.

"If you're sure?"

"Yeah, dude, I'm sure," he laughs and then opens the door to peel himself form the car. Eddie gets his bag on his back and then starts for the front doors. You watch him for a moment and hope you didn't really imagine the flash of sadness through his eyes.

Eddie keeps his head down as he approaches the building and turns the corner for the first bathroom near the entrance the second he can. He throws himself into a stall and locks it behind himself. His head hits the door and he exhales shakily. He shouldn't wait, he knows. It would be easier to have someone else give me a ride home, but Eddie doesn't want anyone else to drive him home. He wants you to do it.

He wants to listen to Madonna on the radio and laugh at your terrible falsetto. He wants you, but it feels like it'll never happen. He'll be stuck always wanting and never having. And given this, the suffering is worth it. If he can't have it all, he can at least hold onto what he can have this way.

Eddie doesn't look at you much the rest of the day. Even at lunch, he laughs, but his eyes never fall onto you. The space between the two of you feels thick, like you could cut it with a knife it's so tangible. When you tell Eddie you and Jason will be in the library, Eddie only nods and keeps his gaze trained on the ground.

You want to ask then what is going on. But don't get the chance before Eddie stalks off in the direction of the drama room--where Eddie said he'd hang out while you and Jason worked-- and Jason approaches from behind you. You pray the final touches on this project are swift. The forty-five minutes it takes to get through your final revisions and final practice feels like an eternity.

You have to tell yourself that every thirty seconds that you glance at the clock will add another hour. But you can't help it. You want the seconds to go by faster so you can talk to Eddie, see if you can dig up what's really beneath the surface. Jason all but runs out of the library when you two declare that this is as good as it's going to get dealing with Hamlet.

When you knock on the drama door, though it's already cracked, you can see Eddie pouring over something in one of his binders, pencils a flurry in his hands. "Occupied," Eddie returns to the sound of your knock.

"Shit, didn't realize they'd converted this into a bathroom over the course of the day," you laugh.

Eddie snorts and then looks up. "Done already?"

"Jason can't hang," you tease, hoping it'll make Eddie laugh again but the sound is hollow against your ears.

The walk to your car is quiet between the two of you and you're noticing now as you step out from the awning of the school that it's raining. You and Eddie make quick work to get to your car and once inside you turn the heat just a little to help dry you two out a little faster.

"My place?" you offer. "Restocked on Mountain Dew."

"Oh, actually, I-I told Wayne I'd fix this thing around the house and-and I should probably get to that before he-he gets home," Eddie returns. It's a lie and it falls clumsily from his lips.

The rain pitters softly against the roof the car. "Bullshit, Eddie," you huff, but turn the key in the ignition. You throw the car into reverse and look behind you before you start reversing.

Your hand comes up and grips the back of Eddie's seat as you navigate the car out of the space and Eddie almost kreens into the touch. He almost gives in, but he reminds himself that you two are just friends.

"You don't get to call bullshit," Eddie returns softly. "It's-it's true."

"What do you have to fix?"

"A valve to the shower." If a shower is metaphor for a heart, but Eddie doesn't say that last part aloud. He just stares out of the window shield.

"Was it something I did today?" you ask, replaying the entire day in your head. It all started this morning. But all you'd done is given him a ride.

"It's-it's not you."

"Don't tell me it's you. You can't do that, Eds. It's cliche. I can handle the truth," you huff, taking the right onto the street carefully as you know it's prone to flooding in heavy rains.

"It's us," Eddie answers.

"What-what about us?" The question catches in your throat. Whatever Eddie said next would alter everything--better or worse, but things would change and all it would take was an utterance of Eddie's voice to change it. You don't know if you're more excited for the possibility or more anxious about this all shattering, but you need it change. In the moment as Eddie doesn't quite get his words out, you realize you need something to give even if it's earth shattering. "What about us?" you ask again.

"I want--" Oh Eddie can't say it. How does he put into words how he wants just to sit and do nothing with you. He wants to be the one you tell everything too, even if it's minor and seems trivial to the word--Eddie wants it. How does one articulate the desire to hold every piece of someone knowing they are falliable and it could all go wrong but wanting the honor of a chance anyway.

"I want everything," Eddie starts. It feels complete on its own but more knocks against his teeth. "I want to hold you hand and I want to tell you about the lyrics that are in my head and I want you to want me too. In every way possible and I know we've been friends for years. But holy shit, we just--we work and I am a cynic. Self proclaimed because I have Daddy issues and let's be honest, it's sort of just a result of what's happened and keeping everyone away makes it less likely for someone else to hurt me. But I want you to hurt me. Like, I want to know it's risky and not care if it blows up because at least I got the shot with you. I-I just want us to be more than what we are."

You laugh. You fucking laugh because you can't think of anything else to do as the tears well in your eyes. The rain blurs as the tears build and you pull over onto the shoulder of the road and drop your head onto the headrest. Eddie gets the car into park for you, realizing you haven't moved to do it yourself.

"You are so--" you laugh and then lift your head. "Eddie, I have literally been driving myself insane trying to read your signals. Because I couldn't tell if it was just how you were or if you wanted what I wanted too. I hate Mountain Dew, you know."

Eddie nods. "I know."

"But I don't want to hurt you," you state, stretching over the console.

Eddie closes his eyes at the feeling of your hand on his cheek--how your long digits hold his cheek so firmly.

"Look-look at me," you command.

Eddie follows it, eyes dripping in worry when they land on you. "Yeah?"

"I want you to teach me how to love you. I like you already. I want you already, but I-I don't know how to love you and I need you to teach me that. I want to learn that. I want to listen to all the lyrics and I want you to hate me when I try to talk sports to you, but you listen anyhow because you know I care. I want to get hideous sweaters together for Jeff's Christmas party and win goddamn it because you know everything is a competition with me. I want to teach you how to love me too. How-how does that sound?"

Eddie blinks, trying to clear the tears from his lashline but he smiles, hands coming up to your chin. "That sounds like a hell of a ride that I want to be on."

"Good," you exhale with a tuft of laughter. "Because I'm not getting off."

There's only inches between the two of you and you close the distance sealing your lips around Eddie's. You revel in the way he pushes into you, pushes every so gently into the kiss like he can't get in close enough. His hand slides to your cheek now and your stomach flips at the feeling of his calluses, bumping over your skin.

Eddie breaks away from the kiss first, "Prepared to be sick of me now," he laughs.

"Oh, I was sick of you years ago," you retort nipping at his plump bottom lip. "Just wait until you see how unbearable I can be."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x male reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagine #h writes #stranger things

[palmtreefriend]

Listener Job Headcanons

Just as you think. Redacted Listeners and jobs I headcanon that they have

This does not include listeners whose jobs are somewhat specififed (- Babe)

Angel

When I say that Angel has retail worker vibes, I mean they are the type to lawfully mess with costumers/coworkers that are more annoying than bearable. I'm thinking coffee shop barista. Not a place like Starbucks. More of a locally owned business that has a certain theme attached to it. It's either that or a thrift shop clerk.

Babe

So, we know they work in an office building/setting. I don't know what people do in offices but I just think it would be nice if they worked with Smartass and Baby (Ollie's listener) in the same department

Darlin'

They do odd jobs around the neighborhood. Good enough relationship where people trust them with simple things like dog-walking or lawn mowing. Sometimes helping That One Dad in the neighborhood with a passion project. Their life is too chaotic for them to keep a 9-5 at some corporation

Lovely

Art commissioner/babysitter. Something that offers a bit more free time than a normal 9-5. I honestly feel like Lovely doesn't need to work that much to keep a roof over their head for whatever reason (*coughcough* richkid *cough*). Though Lovely might not have that babysitting job anymore

Freelancer

They worked at their family's shop before they got their powers and moved to Dahlia to go to D.A.M.N. They don't have a current job right now to focus more on their studies and getting control of their powers (and their life)

Sunshine

Daycare attendant. No, I am not going through a FNaF phase. You're absolutely insane. Whatever correlation you may have conducted is entirely false and- Yeah- Yeah, it's because of the FNaF game (I blame amazing AO3 writers). Plus! Plus they just seem like a calming person to be around and especially good with children

Starlight

Okay. Headcanon (that I literally just thought of when I opened this draft again) inside a headcanon: Starlight is Angel's older sibling that went off to college before them and overtime grew apart from their family especially when Starlight had to switch schools. Anyways after college they started working at book shop. A place where they can just satiate their hunger to learn/understand more things while also earning money

Honey

What- What if- What if retirement home worker? Hear me out! We haven't had Honey for long but the way they react to Guy referencing memes and vines and other things it just feels like they hang around old people all day that they just pick up little mannerisms from them. Like one time when Guy was being a little lazy with house chores, Honey looked at him and said, "When I was younger-" And went on a 15 minute rant. To be fair, they were going off of 4 hours of sleep and their morning tea was just not helping.

#@soft whispers in the breeze@ #redacted asmr #redacted listener #redacted asmr honey #redacted asmr starlight #redacted asmr sunshine #redacted asmr freelancer #redacted asmr lovely #redacted asmr darlin #redacted asmr babe #redacted angel #redacted asmr headcanons

[damfinofanfiction]

Chapter 22: A Talk Between Two Aunts

Note: just to conclude 2023 with this new chapter! you may notice that I edited the story a bit on ao3; it's only for the grammar. this might stay the same on tumblr. Anyway happy new year damfinos!

Filming resumed as soon as the star cow was no longer in heat. Buster was relieved that things had run smoothly once more. However, minor obstacles still occur in production but each has a solution. Rain? Shift the shoot to indoor scenes. Wolves lurking around? The ranch owners promptly dealt with them. Running out of ideas for a gag? Gather the crew to play a little ball until something comes up.

Whatever it took, Buster wanted or had to finish the film by autumn.

Buster was thankful to the ranch owners for letting them film there and giving insight into the plot. Not to mention their attempts to help Brown Eyes, but he didn't want to be reminded. 

Kathleen Myers was a fine actress for Buster to direct. It wasn't her first time in a feature this year since she had finished Goat Getter at the time of her casting. Kathleen once complained to Buster about the cow slowing production down as she had other upcoming projects. Buster appreciated her ambitious nature, and her looks reminded him of Gail. He still wished she would have worked with him if it wasn't for the injury or Schenck recommending Kathleen to the picture. 

In mid-July, Buster decided for the production to leave the ranch after having the necessary footage. Filming was moved to the train where he could develop gags and scenarios.

As always, Buster had thought about how the movie would begin and end but he still had ideas for the middle. He had conversed with Lex about how it would go.

Sometimes it just left Buster thinking about whether he would say anything to Gail.

************

On her Saturday off, Gail hung her damp clean laundry on a clothesline in a small backyard. The production of the short had finished the day before and everyone celebrated with a small party which had Gail feeling tired in the morning. She hadn't had a Buster dream for a while. They became unnecessary since she was seeing and having some activity with Buster Keaton.

Following her chores, she went to the front to find out what was in her mailbox, forgetting to check the day before. She then noticed that among the mail, one was addressed to her. She rushed inside to read in peace. Expecting it to be from the one and only, she was a bit disappointed to find it was from Churchill. She opened the envelope and read the letter.

Dear Gail, We are thrilled to announce that Geraldine’s twins have arrived on July 12! They are both healthy girls and their mother is recovering well. Their older brother Jake is not happy that neither one is a boy. Ezekiel’s just relieved that the delivery went smoothly and is glad he found an experienced doctor for her. We will provide more details to come. We were also surprised to hear that you were at the premiere of Charlie Chaplin’s new picture. We all saw that movie too but it was just one scene that not everyone believed you were in the picture. We also would love to hear everything about you and how your arm has recovered.  Geraldine agreed we should delay your father’s retirement party to Thanksgiving weekend instead of August. We hope to see you then. Love, Mother.

Gail had mixed reactions to the letter. She’s an aunt again but had forgotten about her father’s upcoming retirement. She believed that it was due to her romantic involvement with Buster that made her slip her mind.

Later that evening, bridge practice at Lenore's was turned into a game of kings in a corner because the older woman decided to liven up the game night. Gail placed a red queen on top of a black king. Sally wasn't new to the card game but quickly picked up the skill as she placed a black five over a red six. Lenore then put those cards on top of the corner which her niece overlooked on her turn.

What pleased Gail more was seeing Lenore and Sally on good terms since she hadn't seen them argue or offend each other in three months.

 Lenore asked Gail, "So what's new?"

When picking up a new card, she responded, "I have just received news that my sister has given birth to twins."

The women both put down the cards after hearing the happy news. "That's wonderful! Why didn't you say so before?" Lenore boasted.

It wasn't brought up. I didn't get a picture yet. She and the babies are fine. They didn't send a picture yet."

"I'm happy for your family." Lenore smiled widely.

"Yeah, that must be hard childbirth," Sally chirped in.

The older woman nodded with a sullen face. "Well, not everyone is lucky to have a child." Both young women looked at her with sympathy.

"There's another thing," Gail mentioned another bit of news about her father. "I'm just glad the retirement party is delayed. What if Mr. Sennett has me on another project by that time?"

"Don't worry, there are other actresses who are dying to be in pictures!” Sally said.

"That's true, they can fill in, though you're still irreplaceable."

Sally stretched her arms and yawned. "I'm gonna head upstairs now, good night auntie, good night Bae."

“Very well, good night Sal!” It was getting late. She would have left the table to grab her hat and coat if it were for any persuasion by the older woman.

“Gail, can you stay for a bit?” Lenore asked. “I like us to talk, just us aunts.”

“Sure.” 

Cards were placed aside. “How well did you get along with your nieces and nephews?”

“Well, they know me well but it’s hard not to see them since we're apart more often.”

“My nephews didn't want to talk to me, they only wanted my money. However, Sally didn't care about my wealth. She said nothing about it.”

Gail knew she was still seeing the wealthy Sterling and didn’t want to say anything, hoping Lenore would hear from Sally. She blurted out, “Well that’s good since she’s not chasing money.”

"That’s not it", Lenore sighed. "The point is that I don't know what is going on and what kind of life she has. Did she tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

She quit that nightclub. 

Gail was in a bit of disbelief. "But she enjoyed performing there."

"She did before. She told me that her manager fired her because of her age, but she would rather quit." Lenore became visibly upset. "I worry she's turning into my sister. May God rest her soul. My most regret is not being there for her, even if she was stubborn. That's why I'm trying my best to look after my niece." Gail gave her a comforting hug. When they stopped Lenore wiped her eyes. "You are a godsend, dear."

"Well, I guess I am." Gail grinned gracefully.

"As you're her best friend, I'd like you to keep an eye on her when you let her come along."

Gail held the older woman’s hand as she tried to avoid breaking her trust, "You have my word."

She left Lenore’s after wishing each other a good night.

Gail took a bus to get home. Before going to her bungalow, she checked the mailbox again. Her eyes lit up when she found an envelope from the Kingman Hotel. She rushed to her bedroom, so she read the letter in bed. 

Dear Gail,

I’m sorry I haven't written to you. Things were busy during filming. Brown eyes is alright again. 

The heat in the desert was hot as hell and it kept being rained on which thankfully helped cool down.

I would like to hear how it went filming your short since we have to keep things between us.

Thankfully, I will be coming back home at least next week. We left the ranch after some weeks and are currently filming somewhere along the way.

There’s another good news, we will be filming downtown when we return. While there’s still a consideration, I would like you to be on the scene if you're free to work with me.

See you then!

Yours truly, "Michael"

Gail beamed, grabbed the letter close to her chest, and then drifted off to sleep due to drowsiness.

She didn't mind sleeping with her clothes on because she's going to see Buster again soon.

#buster keaton #buster keaton fandom #buster keaton fanfiction #silent comedy #buster #actor rpf #busterkeaton #buster fic #silent era