#my writing 📚

[shares-a-vest]

A sequel to THIS Steddie ficlet but you don't really have to have read it.

Nancy finishes up signing her name with a flourish on the inside of the greeting card she’d bought for Robin for Valentine’s Day. She sets her red sparkly gel pen down on the desk and admires her work. Excellent. Perfectly balanced cursive writing and not a mistake in sight. Poetic and just a little naughty - nothing like Eddie’s card that she had had the displeasure of seeing in full view on the floor of Family Video.

At least it was spirited, unique and honest.

But her card still feels like it’s missing something.

She lifts the card to her lips and stops just short of leaving a lipstick stain on it. Robin probably won’t like that. She’d say something about someone having their mouth all over her Valentine’s Day card, even if it is her own girlfriend.

She looks around at her dresser and contemplates spraying the card with perfume. But she scrunches her nose, thinking Robin probably wouldn’t like a strong scent coming from it either. Turning back to her desk, she decides on a few hand-drawn flowers sprinkled over the inside of the card. Robin will surely give her something handmade (as she always does).

Using a pink marker pen, Nancy carefully surrounds her writing with daisies in varying sizes, the easiest flower for her to draw somewhat competently. As she goes, she inches closer and closer to the surface of her desk, tongue poking out in concentration as she begins adding a peppering of little stars too.

“Um, Nancy?”

She makes what can only be described as a mouse-like squeak noise at the sound of Mike’s interruption. She clutches the marker in her hand, stopping herself from smearing it across Robin’s card. She carefully lifts her hand from the cardstock and clips the cap safely onto the pink marker before spinning around to find Mike lingering at her bedroom door.

“What?” she asks, unable to hide her frustration.

“Are you leaving yet?” he asks, bounding into her bedroom and looking like he's rearing to go somewhere.

Somewhere that presumably requires her to drive him.

“Soon,” she says, giving her brother a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile.

“Can you drive me to Hop’s?” he asks, picking at the bottom seam of his Hellfire shirt.

“Spending the evening with Will, are we?” she teases.

Mike groans and flops back on her bed, sending a pink decorative cushion toppling off the edge where it wedges itself between the mattress and side table.

“I have a card to give him,” he says, staring at the ceiling.

“Good,” she smiles and decides she should probably set aside her card to help out the lump currently sighing and squirming (and messing up the bedspread) on her bed. “You aren’t planning on wearing that, are you?”

Mike rolls onto his stomach to look at her with a look of complete incredulity. Or maybe it’s cluelessness.

Admittedly, that came out meaner and more accusatory than she meant it.

She sighs. Of course, Mike doesn’t know that on Valentine's Day maybe he shouldn’t wear his nerd uniform.

“Just… Anything but that,” she says, even though that doesn’t seem to help either.

Her brother just blinks, kicking his feet.

So she stands up with a huff and gestures to the door. Mike stands and looks her up and down, suspicious.

“You are going to help me pick out something?” he asks, dumbfounded. “For Valentine’s Day? To wear to Will’s house?”

“And politely make suggestions about what you could do that doesn’t involve hanging out in an overcrowded cabin reading comic books, yes.”

And that’s how Nancy spends part of her night chauffeuring around Mike and Will. First picking up Robin, negotiating the change of plans with much protest. Then heading out to the Hooper-Byers’ cabin to pick Will up. Then driving them to the diner which the boys had to settle for because there was no way Nancy was going to have them in Enzo’s a table away from her and Robin. And she wasn't giving up any of her money to Mike, either. Nor did she want to drop them off at the pizza parlour which is where she knew Steve and Eddie would be at some point.

She finally pulls into the car park beside Enzo’s and cuts the engine.

“So,” she starts, clicking off her seatbelt and turning to her date, beaming.

“So?” Robin echos, trying to look inside the restaurant windows.

“I have a card for you,” Nancy says and reaches around to fish in the back for her handbag.

She feels around for it and finds it has been kicked under the passenger’s seat.

“Oh no!” she exclaims and Robin whips around, reaching for it with ease.

“What is it?” she asks, mirroring Nancy’s panic as she hands her the bag.

“Your card!” she says, sniffling. 

Nancy is a little surprised that she's this upset about it. Even though it’s her own damn fault for leaving a soft-fabric bag in the vicinity of two fidgeting and oblivious fifteen-year-olds. She relents and hands the crinkled envelope to Robin.

She tries not to watch as Robin carefully opens it, looking the card over before flipping it open and reading it.

“Wow,” Robin says after a minute.

“You like it?” she says, wide-eyed and hopeful.

“This is so much better than Eddie’s card,” Robin says, giving a belated shudder.

Nancy tuts and rolls her eyes. Robin was so dramatic about Eddie’s card. Even after Steve read it fully, she couldn’t help herself from both scolding him for its contents and asking him for details.

“Not the reaction I wanted,” Nancy sighs, looking at her feet.

She looks over the floor mats and thinks about how her car is in desperate need of a cleaning as she scuffs a pebble under her flats. She only breaks away from her stray thought as Robin shuffles through the ridiculously large handbag at her feet.

“Here!” she declares, holding up a crumpled envelope in victory and promptly hands it over. “Eddie, I loathe to admit, inspired a similarly flirtatious greeting card. Although mine is far less eloquent than yours. Somewhere between the obscenity of Poet Munson and Romanticist Wheeler.”

#look at me writing two ficlets in a day #and look at me writing ronance #might write a byler continuation tomorrow #nancy wheeler #robin buckley #ronance #mike wheeler #ronance ficlet #steddie: valentine's day edition #(just tagging that to keep my valentine's stuff together) #this was fun gotta write more nancy and mike sibling nonsense #ronance 📚

[mye-chi]

go kitty go kitty go kitty go

#redemption arc for my last michi drawing where she had straight hair. must've been her white mom (ursa) #and yes that last post about michi was because i was drawing her and thought too hard about her writing #also michi is a verena student!! :3c #( 🎨 ) ⸻ frills' art #michi aphmau #( 📚 ) ⸻ okhasis prep academy au

[candied-peach]

ao3: "i died (in your arms tonight)" rating: T warnings: dukeceit, chronic pain genre: hurt/comfort description: Janus is having a bad night. (lyrics are from the staves "tired as fuck")

Oh, I'm tired as fuck Oh, I'm tired as fuck Dry my eyes on the back of my sleeve, just wish me luck Wish me luck

Janus flops on his bed, the pain throbbing in the back of his neck making him want to commit murder. His room is freezing, his head is pounding, his thoughts are sluggish, and his neck won't stop hurting.

"I'm going to kill the light sides," he announces to the room, his voice muffled. A heavy, soft blanket promptly lands on top of him.

"Let me help!" Remus proposes cheerfully as he bounces next to Janus on the bed. Instead of scratchy tulle against Janus's scaled face, he feels soft and fuzzy. Remus has changed into his Christmas sweater and a pair of sweat pants.

"Please," Janus begs. His voice is weak. It's been a long week, and he's spent much too much time being upright. First it was his hip, drawing tight and sending twinges of agony around the swell of his back and inching down his leg. Now it's his neck and shoulders, tight and spasming in pain. It's not fair, and it's making Janus want to cry. 

At least the blanket is warm. 

The lights dim a moment later, and Janus hisses in relief, the throbbing in his temples subsiding just a little. Remus taps Janus's hand with a bottle of juice- apple, Janus's favorite.

"Pain meds?" Remus offers. "Or I could stab you in the head, would that help-"

"Thank you," Janus interrupts hastily, accepting the bottle of juice and the bottle of anti-inflammatories. "As tempting as that offer is, I'm afraid I shall have to turn it down."

"If you say so," Remus says, with a shrug. His normally loud and shrill voice is quieter, a fact that Janus's aching head and neck appreciate. "What next, snakey?"

"Cuddles?" Janus says hopefully. "I just- I don't know, it hurts so much this time, I-" He frowns, his bottom lip wobbling as tears sparkle in his human eye. Remus leans down, planting a sloppy kiss on Janus's forehead.

"Wanna neck massage?" Remus asks. "I swear I won't snap your neck!" His eyes glitter poisonous green for a moment, and it makes Janus smile.

"I'd appreciate that, Remus," Janus admits. "You know how I despise your massages." Remus grins and flexes his fingers. They look like they have an extra joint, if only for a second, and it makes something in Janus's stomach squirm uncomfortably. He's used to it, though, so he simply lies on his stomach, sighing in relief as Remus's fingers gently do their magic. The side can be surprisingly soft when he wants to be.

"Thank you," Janus murmurs, tears of relief sliding down one cheek and dampening the pillow. "This- it helps, darling."

"No prob, Janny," Remus announces, unspooling knots of tension that Janus didn't even realize were there. "When I'm done, I can getcha a snack- I'll steal some cookies from Pattycake's cookie jar- and some more juice, and we can cuddle all night. How's that sound? Good?"

"So good," Janus says, forked tongue tasting the air as he bleps in contentment. "I love you, Remus."

"Love you, too, Jan Jan," Remus chirps, fingers never stopping as they wiggle against Janus's shoulder blades.

Janus yawns hugely, everything slowly combining to ease his pain. 

"If you need it, I got the heating pad, too," Remus whispers loudly in Janus's ear, but Janus is already slipping into dream land.

In his dreams, he has no pain.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #dukeceit #romantic dukeceit #janus sanders #remus sanders #janus #remus #sanders sides fic #ok to rb #peach writes #📚 #i could do literally anything about my chronic pain #and what do i do? write a fic about it lmao

[decisions-at-3am]

I'll know you're gone when flowers die, The landscape beginning to dull. When the sky slowly greys, All colour fading away.

When your books and diaries, All carefully crafted. Painstakingly handbound. Lie there waiting, gathering dust.

I can't bring myself to shift them. To see your handwriting stop, Such finality would shatter me. In my mind, you're still here.

When I stop turning to look, Expecting you nearby. That's when I'll know you're truly gone, When even shadows don't linger.

#writerscreed #original poem #spilled ink #dark academia #original poetry #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #my poem #my poetry #writers and poets #writerscommunity #sad poem #🧮 #i saw a prompt 'when flowers die' #and it made me think of 📚+🧮 #it's from 🧮's pov when 📚 dies (it's an earlyish death) #i made myself tear up writing this (i would've cried if I wasn't cringeing at myself so hard) #it kinda made me sad in the same way the 'don't go where I can't follow' trope does #title: I know you're gone #idek if it's good lol

[burning-sol]

shitty drawing but just imagine blorbo... imagine.........

#📚 my posts #🖍️ art #if i write up an outline for an entire riptide she-ra pop au im sorry

[hiya-itsamber]

when i tell u there is NOT enough nash hawthorne content out there

#IF ANYONE HAS A FANFIC OR SOMETHING SEND IT MY WAY PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GODDDD #I DONT WANNA WRITE IT MYSELF😭😭 #(although i totally would...) #anyway i dont post abt my inheritance games brainrot enough so get prepared for that lol #amber rambles #📚: inheritance games #nash hawthorne #the inheritance games #the final gambit #the hawthorne legacy #the brothers hawthorne

[movedto-clifflix]

🪦 Graveyard Date 🪦

ship: astarifen

content warning: bg3 spoilers, kn!fe (dagger) mention

author's note: had this special scene in the game n i just had to write it down 😪 (meeks told me to do so /hj)

word count: around 1.2k

After Cazador has been defeated and the pale elf had regained his cool, the party went back to the Elfsong Tavern where they had rented the entire upper floor just a couple hours ago. They all were tired, exhausted and wounded by the numerous fights with Wolves, Werewolves, Vampires and other undead creatures. Astarion kept quiet the entire walk, and so did Fenren, wanting to give his lover the space and time he needed after reliving the traumatic events in Cazador’s palace. Once they reached their chambers, Jaheira used the last bit of magic which she had left to patch up her companions with a healing spell which led to everyone mumbling a “Thank you” at her. 

The hours passed rather quickly, and by now the party had changed into their comfier clothes, their bellies full with delicious food from the bar of the Tavern and ready to get a good night’s rest. This was also Fenren’s plan. The day had been long and the young half-elf had been feeling tired ever since the adrenalin left his body, which was shortly after arriving back at the Tavern. He sat on his bed, staring at nothing in particular, yet his mind was full of so many thoughts and concerns. His head perked up as he felt the side of his bed lowering, seeing his lover sit down. The younger one’s eyes went big, like the ones of a puppy and he couldn’t help but stare. Astarion kept silent for a while, gathering his thoughts before he started speaking: “I should probably start getting used to the shadows again. Who knows how long I have left in the sun?” 

“We’ll find a way for you to be able to continue walking in the sun. The ritual wasn’t our last chance, I’m sure.” Fenren said, being optimistic as always. 

Astarion let out a quiet sigh, yet a small smile covered his face. “Maybe never seeing the sun again is just the price for my freedom.” 

“Even if it is, that won’t change my opinion about you. I’ll be with you either way, I promised you that.” The ash-blond held himself back from taking his partner‘s hand, not knowing with what he’d be comfortable by now. The pale elf stood up, making the taller one look up as he was still sitting. “There’s something I’d like to show you. Not far out in the city. If you’re alright with that, that is.”

Fenren agreed, and soon they were out walking around Baldur’s Gate. The air was rather warm, yet there was a slight breeze blowing through the streets and alleys, making it comfortable to walk around.

They soon reached the graveyard, the moon shining bright, lighting up the many different tombstones. It was silent, no soul being around. Fenren took a quick look around, remembering the place. They had been fighting some Kobolds here as they were passing through on their way to the Devil’s Fee. He didn’t speak, just looked at his partner who stood in front of a tombstone which was overgrown with ivy. Astarion didn’t speak either but he moved up to the gravestone and removed the plants carefully, revealing the carved-in letters and numbers. “Nearly two hundred years and it’s my first time being here again after what he did to me.” the pale elf spoke. “When I finally got out, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today.” His gaze was sealed onto the gravestone. 

Fenren chose his words wisely, not wanting to seem like it wasn’t a big deal for what happened to Astarion. “You didn’t choose to become his. What he did was take you by force.” 

“That doesn’t change the fact that he did take it, leaving almost nothing left of the person I was. All he left behind was a name on a rock. And now…now I need to figure out who I am and what I want.” The pale elf became quieter towards the end of his sentence, still looking at the tombstone. 

Fenren’s gaze fixated on his lover, and he spoke with sincerity: “You’re the one I love. The one I want.” 

Astarion smiled, almost instantly replying with a “I feel the same.” followed by a short pause before he continued. “You were by my side through all of this. Through bloodlust and pain and misery. You were patient. You cared. You trusted me when that was an objectively stupid thing to do.” He paused again, thinking of how to word his next sentence. “I feel safe with you. And whatever the future holds for me, I don’t want to lose that.” 

The young half-elf has been listening intently, his partner’s words clearly touching his heart, meaning a whole lot to him. He smiled, his heterochromia eyes sparkling in the moonlight and his gaze full of love. “Whatever happens in the future, just know I’ve always got you. Just like I promised.” 

The vampire’s gaze softened, an almost relieved “Thank you.” leaving his lips before he turned back to the gravestone. “I should probably fix this.” he mumbled, taking out a dagger and carefully carving in the numbers of the current year, just under the ones which showed his living days almost two centuries ago. Once he was done he put away the dagger and kneeled down in front of the stone. The ash-blonde remained silent, letting Astarion have his moment. He just kneeled down next to him, hands on his lap and his gaze on the gravestone. 

“I’ve been dead in the ground for long enough.” The vampire broke the silence with those words. “It’s time I try living again.” Astarion turned so he was facing his partner, taking the younger one’s hands in his. “With everything that life has to offer.” 

Fenren looked at his lover innocently, a small. confused smile on his face. “Meaning…?” 

“You know what I mean, Darling.” Is all the pale elf said before sitting up straight again. “I have to be honest with you though. When we first met, I didn’t care about you.” This made the young half-elf chuckle. interrupting the older one. “No, that’s valid!”

Astarion chuckled as well, shaking his head before he turned serious again. “But I do care about you now. Being with you is more than just…lust or manipulating you into a tactical alliance.” He paused, just like he did before. “I love you. I love this. And I want it all.” His words were soft and gentle spoken, but most importantly; they were the truth. 

Astarion reached out, cupping Fenren’s cheek, his thumb carefully tracing over the scar which the younger elf had gotten during a fight back when he was a child, before leaning in for a short kiss.

As he pulled away, they both smiled, their gazes full of love. The vampire gently pushed the bigger one back so he now leaned on his elbows, watching his boyfriend intently, a smile still on his face. Astarion crawled so he was now leaning over the younger one before he kissed him hungrily yet still softly, pushing his partner more and more against the dirty floor, making both of them have a night they won’t soon forget. 

taglist: @little-miss-selfships | @macgyverwife | @aduainscelus | @cassmeeks | @eternally-smitten | @wanderers-wife | @mechasuit [lmk if you wanna be added / removed !! 🫶🏻]

#let me just… *yeets this out to everyone* #that’s my first time posting my writing . like ever LMAO #🍷 | astarion #🌓 moonlit desires 🌙 #✒️📚— writing #🪄— cliffs creations

[garfieldsladybird]

Live the life you love.

The goddess, 𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐅𝐘! ʚїɞ 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃𝐘! — 17!! any pronouns. intp-t. retired alcoholic and still a stoner. ♈︎ aries. hufflepuff. cabin 13. i mainly reblog and talk abt shows i watch :)

-> my dogo finn 🫶 -> more pics of finn🫀

Rules ⇝ I don’t have an age setting, all are welcomed. don’t be weird or rude. be respectful and kind. do not plagiarize.

»»» request info: closed. && -> fandoms + characters.

Home ♡ ⇝ Masterlist. -> Weekly life update. -> my books! ->

The knowledge & traditions ⇝ Fic rec’s, Wips, Celebrations, Tags… -> tumblr help.

❤︎︎ ⇝ Library blog. & Book Blog. & moots!

‎© 𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖿𝗂𝖾𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗅𝖺𝖽y𝖻𝗂𝗋𝖽 2023 — my works are not to be plagiarized; copied, translated, or stolen.

#thank you for being here!! #i love you sm :)) #here some tags -> #gs.new tags #my shows tags 🎟️ #gibs.library 📖 #series! 📚 #lady is writing ;) ✏️ #garfield.hp #garfields.avatar #garfield watches 📺 #garfield answers 🦖 #garfields high ᴥ︎ #garfield talks #garfieldsladybird #garfields.dark paradise

[devil-doll13]

It was always there, you think. That library.

When you walk by on your way to the bakery, something powerful and strange urges you to enter. It smells of old books and candles. Bookshelves jut out at odd angles and you feel cramped despite the fact you still cannot tell where the building ends.

All is silent, except you think you might hear some slippery thing sliding around in the shelves. The human shadows lingering above and around corners say nothing, but they watch you. You try to navigate the maze, passing by dusty times penned by “Faust” and “Solomon” and “Williams” until you find what you’ve been searching for.

(Or perhaps it had been searching for you.)

This place makes you excited, but uneasy, like somewhere you have yet to qualify for. You hurry to check out your book, but the library’s entire layout seems to have shifted when you weren’t looking and it takes a while for you to find the front desk.

Finally. You see another person in the flesh. He is as nondescript as someone could possibly be. You suffer allowing him to take your treasure from you.

“It must be a great honour.” The librarian says as he hands it back to you. You still cannot pull your gaze away from it. It captivates you.

“To be chosen…” He clarifies.

He then tells you that you must return it within three days - under no circumstances will you keep it for longer - and you almost argue that by the size of it, you couldn’t hope to finish it by then. But when you get home, you find all you can do is turn the pages. You do not eat or sleep for reading and learning and understanding all and knowing all-

It’s too late by the time you realise your error. The obsession that has consumed your mind has taken your life with it. No longer do you look in the mirror and see that flesh and blood human. You must go to the library. You must go.

#I needed to write SOMETHITN so take this #not that happy w it but however #Nox Library #📚 #my writing

[bellecourageuse]

Belle in Hyperion Heights, where she is Weaver's detective partner of so many years she can hardly remember the time when this pain in the ass (affectionate) wasn't a part of her life.

Belle in Hyperion Heights, where she is the local librarian, a literal ray of sunshine who somehow ends up in a relationship with the most dangerous cop on the block, as they say.

Belle in Hyperion Heights, where she is a single mother (because Rumbelle deserved to have more children) working at Roni's

Belle in Hyperion Heights, where she is Lacey and Weaver's most priceless informant (adding to that, her father can be a crime boss or something using flower shop as a front and Gaston his right hand, in an AU where he is alive/human curse-less AU)

Belle in Hyperion Heights, where she is Lacey and is working at Roni's while she figures out her life

Just...

Belle in Hyperion Heights

#📚 verses 📚 #kinda? #that's like different versions of her Hyperion Heights verse #📚 wishlist 📚 #definitely #come write with my Belle/Lacey in HH!) #and I'm not talking only about Rumples #though I would love as many Weaver x Belle/Lacey threads as possible of course)

[candyheartedchy]

Been working on a little BrainyBeth comic for two days straight and wanted to share my favorite drawings of Brainy so far to make up for not posting any art lately. So here’s a little sneak peek!

#I’m mostly just coloring sketches but writing the dialogue is kicking my ass #💬 chy chatter 💬 #📚 brainy 📚 #🎨 chy creations 🎨

[jvzebel-x]

"You can’t quantify humanity. You can’t measure it—not the way you mean to. People are passionate and flawed and fallible. They make mistakes. Their memories fade. Their eyes deceive them."

x. "If We Were Villains", M.L. Rio

#If We Were Villains #ML Rio #📚 #so while this was an extremely good book for many reasons-- my admitted love of shakespeare among them-- #the first half was almost impossible to get thru lmao. i dont know if ive ever read a book where the fucking murder was so. #satisfying. LMAO. even thinking it in actual context feels a bit fucked but also the whorephobic nepo baby #who is actively violent&homophobic was basically crafted for me to cheer the death of lmaoooo. #(like aww all that money&muscle couldnt save ya skull from a literal right hook to the brain huh??? :'() #... anyway im glad i pushed thru even if just for the writing style. ill never get past my soft spot for dark academia bc of the language #LMAO im such a simple hoe. #no one does a tragic romance quite like dark academia either 🤷🏽‍♀️🥂💘 #ESP tragic romance in a shakespearean themed book lmaoooo

[candied-peach]

ao3: “but there are days when i’m not okay” rating: T warnings: analogical, food, virgil has ocd genre: hurt/comfort description: Virgil stares down at his dinner. He can eat it. Any second now. No, really.

It starts with crab stew.

Virgil stares down at it, his thoughts swirling. What if you're allergic? His mind insists, harsh and shrill with panic. You'll die if you eat it! You'll die! His fingers lift, scratching idly at the front of his throat, as if he can already feel the hives forming. His phone lies open to one side, the tab currently in front all about allergic reactions. He has scanned it three times. Three feels like a good number. A safe number.

He swallows. His throat tightens. The panic still looms as he dips his spoon into it, pulling up a small bite. Tears glitter in his eyes, but he refuses to let them fall. This is so stupid. A pointless argument. He's fine. He's not allergic. He's never been allergic to seafood.

But what if it's started now? His mind persists. You can develop allergies at any time. You could be allergic right now and not know it until it's too late.

Virgil shoves the bite into his mouth before he can think too much about it, chewing and swallowing as fast as he can. His throat is tight and painful, but it's from anxiety, not anaphylaxis. He is nearly positive.

He scans the allergic information again. And again. And again. The symptoms, particularly surrounding anaphylaxis, march across the insides of his eyelids. Nausea. A swollen tongue. A swollen throat. Hives. You can get stress hives. He checks his skin obsessively, even as he prepares another bite.

"I can do this," Virgil mumbles, just as Logan steps into the kitchen. Virgil flushes scarlet, spoon still held in one shaking hand. Logan glances at the table, sees his phone there, and the nearly full bowl. He smiles sympathetically.

"Would you rather I leave?" Logan asks. Virgil hesitates, considering. His boyfriend stands there, soft and considerate. "Whatever you need, love," Logan adds softly.

"Stay," Virgil requests, his voice a little hoarse. Logan sits next to him, on the other side from his phone. They tangle their feet together. Virgil psychs himself back up, taking another small bite. His throat tightens, but he ignores it. Logan is here. If he genuinely begins to develop allergic symptoms, Logan will notice. He will help.

Virgil just has to concentrate on the soup. He takes a deep breath, noting, despite his mind, that he can.

Check again, his mind insists. He does. Logan sits there, patient. He does not protest when Virgil finally looks up from his phone, cheeks faintly flushed. He takes another bite.

The clock ticks away in the background, time slipping away, sticky and slow. He can't finish.

But the bowl is half empty.

And Virgil's skin is free from a rash. The only marks are a few pink streaks from his nails, an unconscious bit of battle.

His throat is tight, but he can breathe.

"I'm so proud of you," Logan murmurs, and Virgil cries as his boyfriend enfolds him in a hug, cradling him to Logan's chest and gently rocking him the way he likes.

It'll get easier. It just takes time.

#🍬.txt #sanders sides #analogical #romantic analogical #virgil sanders #logan sanders #virgil #logan #sanders sides fic #📚 #peach writes #it's been kicking my ass recently so :/ #have a fic about it?

[decisions-at-3am]

Would it be so bad, To let you hold me. Find comfort when sad, Let my pain be seen.

#writerscreed #spilled ink #dark academia #original poem #original poetry #spilled poetry #my poem #my poetry #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #female writers #poetry #poem #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing #📚 #poems i wrote at 2am #didn't know how to make this longer so I left it as is #it's so obvious that im alone + touchstarved :/ #can we please manifest a healthy relationship for me? #i'm so tired of being alone #title: Please #i just reread this and it lowkey screams ~trust issues~ #lol a little bit too personal #it's like that time i wrote an off-the-cuff poem at 4am that was basically just random words in a random rhyme scheme #and everybody seemed to unanimously agree that it was about sh (i even asked a real-life person) #which makes sense #bc we go way back <3 but i didn't realise until i reread the poem with that perspective in mind :/ #i may not be as mentally stable as i think...

[burning-sol]

With my previous post I'm realising just how much of a theme control and autonomy is in Apotheosis, right down to even the spells casted. Over and over the conflicts and motivations are driven back to this one point: there was no control, or autonomy was actively taken away, and people fought to take control back.

Peter has his autonomy and control repeatedly taken away from him by Exandroth, so Peter fights to take back control. Thanatos was kept in the dark of his origin and purpose, had his autonomy to choose his purpose taken away, so Thanatos kills the gods to take back control. Rumi was repeatedly made to feel out of control over their own life, so taking on that identity was the latest iteration of Rumi trying to regain control over it. Exandroth wanted to take control from the gods to redistribute it as it saw fair, and ended up not killed but imprisoned, it was deprived of control and autonomy so upon being freed it sought revenge as a way to affirm it's control.

When the gods took control and their celestial essence infected their hosts and other unfortunate people, they were deprived of control over their body and actions. The god slayers took back control and fought back against the gods not just by killing the gods, but by freeing the ones the gods had possessed and ripped control away from. Though let's not forget that the celestials ultimately didn't have a choice in this, they were forced to possess vessels because the celestial realm was destroyed, and they were not able to give up the power of godhood even if they had wanted to relinquish it, they couldn't even do so much as free the dormant souls inside them even if they had wanted to.

Hell, let's talk about Zuen, who long ago had wanted complete control, but this became its own form of imprisonment, so Zuen conducted a plan where in Zuen's own way they could take back control. Zuen exerted their control on others through manipulation which took away theirs. Exandroth, Thanatos and Rumi were manipulated into becoming Zuen's chosen, independently choosing paths that were predetermined by Zuen. The whole situation with the gods was forced upon them by Zuen, because, again, they didn't have a choice BUT to possess vessels.

And yeah, even down to the combat, exerting control over others is a huge theme. The command spell I did a ramble about here (it's the prev post I mentioned), but there's also others. Take Thanatos instilling fear into others so they stand still in paralysing fear, or commanding others to fight, or controlling their actions. Take Rumi using the command spell, or hideous laughter, or using spells to strum up enthusiasm. Exandroth has the spire of eyes, similarly the command spell, and insert the rule of three here. Some of these don't have to be interpreted literally in text, but in the meta of the game these are all tools a player can use to make npcs and combatants yield to their commands against their will.

It's such a driving force in the campaign, once you notice it you won't stop noticing it.

#jrwi spoilers #jrwi apotheosis spoilers #📚 my posts #📌 thoughts #i could probably write more but i want to get something to drink actually so ill leave it at that #just roll with it #jrwi apotheosis

[idiotextraordinaire]

have a very thrown together fic of hackett and woods cuddling ⤵️

Hackett couldn’t help but notice how, whenever there were slight lulls in their activity during missions, Woods would consistently be massaging his prosthetic.

This time, he was waiting for Dauda to finish patching up Bishop so they could get moving again. He’d simply sat down on the ground near the door, stared into space, and began flexing his metal hand as he massaged it.

Hackett quietly came over, sitting beside him. Woods apparently took no notice, rocking back and forth slightly as he thoroughly rubbed circles into his palm.

“Whatcha doin’?” Hackett asked, attempting to gauge how zoned out he was. “Woods?”

When he got no response, he took a glove off and snapped to get the other man’s attention. “Hey. Cowboy.”

Woods jumped, just now seeming to process there was a whole other human next to him. “God— What?”

Hackett shook his head, chuckling. “Lala-land your new favorite tourist destination?”

“Shut up,” Woods grumbled, prosthetic fingers twitching. He sucked his teeth in a bit as if he was in pain, flexing his fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Hackett asked, watching his hand.

“Phantom pain,” the American replied. “Stings like hell.”

Hackett casually took his prosthetic, beginning to methodically massage it.

“W…what’re you doing?” Woods asked, taken aback. His whole arm was trembling slightly, as if it was actually flesh and blood.

“Massagin’ it, what’s it look like?” Hackett replied simply. “Is it helpin’?”

Woods stayed quiet for a moment. “Y.. yes, actually.”

Hackett smiled a bit, even if he knew Woods couldn’t see it under his mask. He leaned against him, putting his focus into making a pattern out of how he massaged Woods’ hand. He used one hand to massage the bottom of his palm and the other to massage the tips of his fingers, slowly moving both hands in slow, thorough swirls until they met around his knuckles.

“That… feels nice,” Woods mumbled, voice sounding almost sleepy.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” Hackett said, neglecting to admit how relaxing this felt for him as well.

“I’ll do my damnedest,” the American muttered, clearly not trying that hard as his head drooped onto Hackett’s, their masks making a light thudding sound.

Hackett just chuckled, continuing the pattern of massaging he was doing. “Idiot.”

#gtfo game #isaiah woods #aiden hackett #posting fics is still a lil nervewracking for me but #brainrot #also featuring my lil hc that woods gets phantom pain and massaging his hand helps #not entirely sure how accurate it is to real life tho #i love gay people #writing tag 📚