#otherwise I'm just kind of leaving it dangling

[medicinemane]

Oh hey, fairylights mod updated to 1.19 back in november... neat

Now I just need to figure out the biome thingy and technically I can work on this project whenever. Maybe next year I'll have a nice village to wander around in

#no spell check; I don't believe in capitalizing months and days unless I feel like it #what do you think I am; German? #the important thing to remember is that every language rule doesn't really matter #the real test is can you break it and feel fine and be understood; if yes it's prescriptive and can be ignored if you feel like it #as opposed to if I say 'I to the store went yesterday get eggs'... clearly that's not allowed #it's so not allowed that it's hard to even do on purpose and you notice I'm still following rules like not breaking up 'to the store' #always fun to poke and prod and see what you're allowed to do in your language; like investigate how it works #cause you're better at it than you realize; you have all kinds of secret rules you know by heart in your head; and that's grammar #stuff like... it's kind of hard to just toss out and 'if I...' statement without following it with a then statement or a question; right? #otherwise I'm just kind of leaving it dangling #but yeah... people are always so worried about what's 'correct' in language #what are you; french? are you an old french man dictating how the language is to be spoken? #if I can toss out words and you get it; i spoke right. like look here; breaking all kinds of punctuation stuff cause it's tags #but you know what I'm saying and frankly this is how it's usually done in tags; less capitalizing and all that; innit? #just do whatever with language; have fun with it; don't worry if it's right or not #was just vibing a thing till it was a thing? would it have been 'bad english' to say till it got tossed in the lexicon? who cares? #linguistics are super interesting; a language's structure is super interesting; ideas on how language effects how we think is interesting #idioms are interesting like how if I 'talk about' or 'talk on' something those have totally different vibes #but it's totally arbitrary; if a bird is on a tree or in a tree varies language to language and neither is right #but yeah... do what you want with it; damn perscriptivism and all these made up rules (cause so many old dudes thought we should be latin) #language is one of the few truly democratic things out there; and you should just have fun with it #mm tag so i can find things later #funny enough purely for these tags rather than the post

[reccyls]

Chev's birthday story for this year: Emma wants to throw a surprise party for Chevalier and enlists the help of Clavis, Nokto, and Luke. Emma distracts Chevalier and comes up with an excuse for them to leave his bedroom and the others will sneak in to decorate, and throw a surprise. Since they had all initially protested at the idea, Emma assumes they'd just decorate and then leave, but...

Chevalier's room was normally neat and tidy, but now colorful garlands were hung around everywhere.

My homemade sweets were set up on the table they had prepared, along with some vintage rose wine that Nokto had procured from an acquaintance.

There were some small bottles of honey surrounding the whole thing like it was some sort of demonic ritual.

And then also some... extravagantly colored things that may or may not have been food.

(Looks like they set up everything while Chevalier and I were out.)

(They were able to pull off their parts successfully, so the surprise should be-)

But Chevalier was not looking at the table at all. Instead he was standing in front of his normal desk with his brow furrowed.

And then he reached out his hand and yanked Clavis out of the shadows.

(Huh...?)

(Clavis did say, "We'll leave you two alone afterwards because he'd kill us otherwise", I'm pretty sure...)

I initially suggested that we all celebrate together, but the three of them had refused.

So I thought that they'd all just set up the surprise and then leave...

Clavis: Oi! If you pull on my collar like that I'm going to choke!

Chevalier: Everyone else, come out. Unless you want me to pull you out like this?

Chevalier effortlessly dangled Clavis by the collar. Then slowly, Luke emerged from behind the curtain, and Nokto stepped out from the shadow of a bookshelf.

Nokto: Ah, damn. I did kind of want to see his surprised face.

Luke: We got totally found out. Even though I was doing my best to hide.

Clavis: Urk...

Nokto: Yeah, yeah, all intruders get out, right?

Luke: Too bad, Emma. I thought he'd be a little more excited.

Clavis: ...You guys... Your dear older brother... is being murdered right now...

Nokto: See you, you two have a good time together.

Luke: The honey I brought is really good so enjoy it, all right?

Emma: Okay. Thanks for helping, guys.

Nokto and Luke waved as they left Chevalier's room, and Clavis was thrown out after them.

Clavis: Why... are none of you... helping me.........

Clavis: Hey, you! Don't drag me along like this, be more humane, you-!

#ikemen prince #chevalier (ikepri) #clavis (ikepri) #nokto (ikepri) #luke (ikepri)

[iavenjqasdf]

❄cubbification🐻

I don’t mind the Cubs. I’m not really a big sports guy, so I don’t know if they’re like, problematic or anything. They kinda just seem like any other baseball kinda team to me? (Please let me know if I’m ever swerving out of my lane by saying something like that, by the way; I’m really trying my hardest to learn and do better.)

But when you're visiting the beautiful city of Chicago, and you're so cold from having just got kicked out of the hostel where all your stuff is, because they don't believe that you ever checked in or were ever supposed to be in there in the first place, and when you start to choke up in frustration they say they’re going to call the cops if you don’t immediately leave the property, so you have no choice but to run out into the cold city night without even a jacket, snow swirling all around, catching the taillights of passing Ubers in a shitty bleary unromantic gray kind of way, and you try to take a hit off your $10 disposable weed pen ($14 after tax) for a bit of warmth, that little disposable oil battery that you were so brave for sneaking through the TSA all the way from Cali (where the weed is cheaper AND it's actually good for you), but the light blinks because its out of juice and you don’t know where you can go to recharge it, and suddenly you realize as you're standing on the curb that a kind stranger has found you and is offering to give you a real taste of Chicago if only you'd get in the back of his big warm car, and hey, the whole reason I came here was because I want that authentic experience, and also to not freeze to death, and who better to make both of my dreams come true than a local, and he's even wearing a Cubs hoodie, you kinda can’t say no, right?

So I climb into the second row of his nice toasty American-made SUV, and he punches Portillo's into the GPS and I buckle up, and suddenly it’s just like I’m a kid again, going out to eat with my parents-

well, just one of them, but that’s accurate to my childhood experience, too.

He asks if I have anywhere to be, if anyone’s expecting me anywhere, and I get a bit whiny when I say nooooo, but he just chuckles and tells me that that's good because he’s gonna show me someplace really cool, and I say that sounds nice.

My legs dangle around as I begin to warm up. I look out the window, and the traffic lights and snow are a cute little screensaver again, instead of a bitter cold reality I can’t shelter myself against.

I reflexively try to take another hit off the weed pen, forgetting that it’s still empty. He tells me not to smoke in his car.

It’s kind of hard to say no to in the moment.

We pull into the Portillo's drive thru, and I squint through the snowy window, unable to read the menu. He says don’t worry, I’ll order for you, so I settle back into my seat, listening to the faint Christmas music playing from inside the restaurant, or maybe from the car ahead of us, but also enjoying the otherwise mostly silence in this one.

A few minutes later, the window hands him three bags, and he hands one back to me as he pulls back onto the road. I gleefully tear into it, there’s a big thing of fries and a sandwich with beef and gravy and several types of peppers (I'm sure there's a term for it, but I'm not a local foodie, so I don't know what it is, sorry), and he hands me a big milkshake too, and I’m so excited and so happy, I have warm food and warm feelings and feel safe and happy again.

The next several minutes are spent laser-focused on ravenously devouring my meal, and it’s only when all the food is gone, all the greasy wrappers and fry boxes and an empty Styrofoam milkshake cup carefully crumpled up and placed back into the bag for easy disposal, that I sit back, rubbing my stuffed overfed belly as I glance out the window again.

All I see is a gray dead snow stretching into the dusk all around, and I realize we’re no longer in the city, or any place I can actually recognize.

I ask where we’re going, and he doesn’t answer. I theorize he just didn’t hear me, and continue not testing that theory.

It’s getting kind of cold again; I realize he's had his window sill cracked this whole time and the heater isn’t on anymore, so all the warmth has slowly leached out of the car into the dark snowy expanse, draining my energy along with it.

I scrounge around, and realize the floor of the car isn’t covered in plush limousine carpet; it's just old clothes strewn around. With the Italian beef aromas now safely contained within me, I realize it smells kinda bad in here actually.

I awkwardly tug at the door handle; not because I want to hurl myself out onto the road or anything, just to see if it would open, for future reference. But it doesn’t. I try taking a hit off the weed pen, but it's still empty.

I think about asking where he’s taking me again, but I realize there really can’t be a good answer to that question at this point.

My stomach grumbles, and I wish I was back somewhere warm and safe again.

---

It’s dark out when I come to again.

(Yeah, so I fell asleep. It was actually my choice to do that. In this weather, 5 miles from civilization might as well be 500, and I'm not asking for another ride even if one comes. I gotta maintain appearances, conserve my strength, wait for the right moment to make my lucky escape back to the civilized world.)

From back here, it’s hard to get a good angle on his face, dimly lit up by the navigation app on his phone that says we’re only a few minutes away from somewhere.

His brow tightens; he must've noticed me waking up. I think I ask him where we’re going again, and maybe he just didn’t hear again, because he definitely doesn’t answer.

He still hasn't closed his window, but he’s now wrapped in a crusty old green and yellow blanket, the one I remember staring at on the floor as I dozed off.

If I’d woken up with really miraculous timing, maybe I could’ve gotten away while he was getting that, but if I had that kind of luck, I probably wouldn’t be locked in a stranger’s car on a dark snowy night to begin with.

The GPS helpfully informs us that we've arrived at our destination.

He pulls off the side of the road onto a dark shoulder, overlooking a sad little ditch; it's only a couple of feet down, but it’s flat enough all around that it'd be enough to hide me from the road for long enough that he’d get away with it.

He kills the lights, and I hear him unbuckling his seatbelt, form silhouetted by a distant streetlight, flurries of white piling up on the glass and all around us as he emerges from his blanket cocoon, tugging his hoodie off.

I unbuckle my seatbelt, too, shivering and whimpering as I scoot back to the third row, but he doesn’t miss a beat, just keeps approaching me in the dark with that silent unknowable menace.

By the time I hear his switchblade click open, I barely even have to react. I knew it'd be coming any second now. I’ve read movies, I’ve seen books.

"Didn't your mommy and daddy ever tell you not to get in a car with a stranger?" he asks. Kind of a shitty joke to make to someone with divorced parents but whatever.

The light behind him crescendos, his blade catching the reflection just so. Horns swell on the soundtrack, the sight of it burns into my wide terrified pupils as he raises it over my cowering form. The dark space is illuminated for just a moment, then for another moment, and then another, getting brighter…

And those horns are starting to sound a lot like a truck’s-

The entire world slams apart around me as an out-of-control 18-wheeler veers off the road into us, ramming through all those feet of steel designed to deform and crush, deflect the impact away from my vulnerable little body. We tumble around in the washingmachinelike sleetstorm of twisted metal and shards of ice and cold glass and ragged shirts and stale fries and a big heavy bleeding body as the disaster skids into the icy dark. As the SUV comes to a rest on its ceiling, I somehow find the strength and coordination to scramble my way through, using a thick piece of cloth that catches underhand to wriggle out through a jagged windowpane, squirming towards the fire illuminating the flurries under the darkest indigo sky, a beacon blazing in the darkness, like the cherry at the end of a cigarette of a trailer, brandishing the BUCK-A-POP'S DOLLARSTYLE MERCHWORLD logo in chic saturated colors, paint peeling off from the heat of the flames roaring all around.

In the numbing cold, I tug the tattered cum-stained Cubs hoodie I'm holding onto my scared shivering body. It smells like menace and onion ring grease, but it provides me with enough warmth that I’m able to stay conscious until the paramedics arrive at the scene and get me to stop sitting cross-legged on the snow, breathing in the toxic merchandise fumes, still trying to hit the dead weed pen clutched tight in my fist.

When they finally pull him out of the wreckage, they find the switchblade lodged in one of his arteries, honey mustard still clinging to his lips.

ao3

#📝 #standalone #go cubs!!!!!!!!! #original fiction #Chicago Cubs

[no-where-new-hero]

Wrap up thoughts on Tale of the Nine Tailed 1938 even though I'm fairly sure none of my followers will have a clue what I'm talking about:

The writing was better than in Season 1. Aside from the huge continuity plothole (what happens in the past bloody well should affect the future, otherwise what's the point), the depth of characters, individual lines, mixture of humor and tragedy, and juggling of many parts came off with more dexterity than I'd have thought. The characters have even more reality because of it and drive the plot onward.

Hongjoo and Mooyeong were amazing new characters and really helped to push through the theme of the season, which was that the way you care about other people is what makes you do the things you do, whether for good or bad. You lie because you want to protect the other person, you leave because you think that'll save them, you decide to perform sketchy magics because that might be enough to stitch back together the family you lost.

Rang. O Rang, my beloved. Kim Beom went for the throat in every scene with his haunted eyes and whispered lines. S1!Rang and S2!Rang felt like different characters somehow, or that they grew from different places. In S1, he was more complicated: more morally grey, more inwardly tortured, more selfish and shallow yet therefore more surprising when kind. He seemed to have more actual power, but less inner strength. In S2, he had a nobility that worked considering he no longer had to be the villain, but that also caught him in plot trappings of heroism: externally tormented, driven to protect and support others, less self-absorbed, less magical in order to seem less dangerous. It still felt consistent and a necessary shift to keep from being repetitive, but its a puzzle, considering that time travel continuity problem.

The folklore! The approach to the elemental magics felt much stronger and more authentic than in S1, where the big bad was a little too big and a little too bad to the point where his choices for villainy seemed meaningless. Here, each magical antagonist came with a different set of limits and strengths, which diversified the fight scenes and fleshed out the world.

Politics! We love a historical drama that actually uses the circumstances of history to animate the plot (looking at you again, The Edge of Love).

The cinematography and direction of the last few episodes blew me away. It was great throughout, but the director was just serving through that finale.

The pacing was excellent, despite the...whimsical decision for some cuts between scenes. Like there was some heavy emotional whiplash.

Makeup and wardrobe must have had the USA's military budget. The costumes and looks overall deserve their own tribute post.

Yeon is literally invincible in this season which therefore makes him the least interesting (hero problems again) BUT Lee Dongwook has a knack for comedic delivery, which really shone here in his quieter scenes.

Kim Yongji played a COMPLETELY different type of role yet pulled it off beautifully with her trademark presence.

I'm so hoping that the obviously dangling plot thread left means the writers are planning a third season.

If we don't get a third season, can Hwanghee, Yongji, and Beom just have their own show? Not even playing their characters from this; I'd be fine with any genre or format (slice of life as artsy 20-somethings would be perfect), but they're all just so good together, the chemistry is off the charts.

#tale of the nine tailed 1938 #tale of the nine tailed #totnt #totnt 1938 #kinema #blake's last braincell

[solarpunkani]

Was trying to look into food banks in my area I can possibly donate my (increasingly large) harvests of tomatoes to and

They're like. All churches. Like they're either 'we are a church and we have a food bank we run in the back' or they're 'we're a food bank! But we are also a church.'

Which, logically, I shouldn't have anything against donating to church food banks/soup kitchens. Hell, I'm literally Christian (or, leaning more towards agnostic these days, but still), I have literally no reason to be against Christians doing anything along the lines of what God would have wanted (according to the text, which to my understanding, is helping the poor). I just.

They're all Christian churches. And going off of what the church I used to attend and what the church my grandmother attends is like. They're probably gonna pull a 'you have to go to service first, or we're gonna say a sermon while you eat, otherwise you don't get any' kinda deal. Which feels really scummy to me. If you're going to preach about helping people less fortunate than you, I feel like it should be a 'No strings attatched' kinda deal, and from what I've experienced in the past from a 'church member/knowing the volunteers' position, a lot of these... aren't that. It's 'how can we proselytize even more by dangling food above the heads of those who need it' kind of deal.

Honestly more shocking is that (at least according to the little free pantry/mini pantry websites) not only are there no free pantries near me--there's none in my city. I don't know if there's some kind of... ordinance? Against them, or something? But I live in a pretty big city so I'm surprised that there just. Aren't any. I've seen one (1) little free library downtown (by a church, so you know what kind of books were there), and the arts market has a 'take one leave one' book trade table every Saturday, but I guess pantries are just. A step too far for now.

Still gotta find something to do with all these tomatoes though. Might just pick the closest church bank and go with it.

#out of queue #ani rambles #honestly would rather this one not be reblogged please

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

What Is Love? Love Is...

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: look sad shit happens, topics of death and loss and all that jazz also alcohol is involved

Genre: it's like just angst; maybe the tiniest bit of fluff but not really lol

Summary: when you suddenly get sick Loki reflects on a conversation you once had // Love is watching someone die // so who's gonna watch you die? ~ Death Cab For A Cutie

***

Loki's face is grim as he looks at you, the love of his life, lying in bed with the others around you. At first glance you look perfectly fine, smiling and laughing with Natasha and Wanda talking to you about any and everything just to keep your mind off of the situation. No one would look at you and know you're on your way towards death's door with very little any of them can do to stop it. A mission gone sideways has you bedridden while Banner works desperately with the medical team to try and save you. It was supposed to be a simple recon mission but getting pushed into some apparently really dangerous plants seriously complicated things. It was lucky Vision had been on the mission team and identified the plants so quickly otherwise you may have died before the jet even got you home.

"Are you still feeling alright? We can get you pain meds if it gets uncomfortable." Tony pokes his head in to check on you.

"I'm fine Tony, someone will get you if it gets painful I'm sure." You tell him.

"The moment you start feeling pain we need to know, we'll have at best like 10 minutes."

"Tony that is not helpful." Steve rolls his eyes.

"Maybe not to her mood but to the chances of her living it is." Tony shrugs turning to leave out of the room. 

"As if we really needed a reminder of how little time we have to fix this." Steve grumbles.

"It's alright Stevie. He's coping the best way he knows how." You smile. You suddenly groan and clutch your stomach sending the room into a flurry. Vision is quick to contact Bruce and Tony while you try desperately to calm everyone down. As things continue to devolve, Loki is reminded of a conversation you'd had with him long before he knew how important you'd be to him.

Tony had thrown one of his many ridiculously large parties and Loki was still very new to the compound. He didn't like the crowds and the guests certainly didn't like him so after a short while of milling about he made his escape. He found himself on one of the balconies in a quiet part of the tower, far from the main room where the party was being held. Loki sat by himself, allowing the stillness of a cool night to combat the overstimulating nature of Tony's events. He was so wrapped up in this satisfaction the night brought him, he jumped when you joined him on the balcony.

"Hiding from the party?" You asked sitting on the balcony floor, your feet dangling over the edge through the bars.

"Are you?" He retorted.

"Kind of. I like these things but after a couple of hours they get so overwhelming I feel like my head is going to explode." You chuckle.

"Wouldn't have pegged a socialite such as yourself to have such an easily drained social battery." He muses.

"I'm a socialite not by choice but by necessity. Tony throws these things and as a member of the team they expect me there and they expect me friendly. That's why I leave early. The longer I'm there the more unfriendly I seem because I get annoyed and the last thing I wanna deal with is a lecture on my PR." You scoff.

"No one's gonna miss you?" Loki asks.

"I make sure enough people see me that it doesn't matter if anyone misses me. I was there." You shrug. "You stick around less than I do though, not worried anyone's gonna miss you?"

"You and I both know no one would even notice if I was or wasn't there." He snorts.

"You sure about that?"

"Do you think anyone would notice? And don't say Thor, he's got a fan club at least 20 people deep at these things. He's preoccupied I'm sure."

"Well I noticed you were missing." You shrug.

"We- hardly talk."

"You don't exactly enjoy talking to the rest of us."

"That's true." He chuckles.

"Can I ask you something?" You look over your shoulder at him.

"If you must."

"What keeps you here?"

"What do you mean?"

"For how much you seem to hate Earth and like, the team, why stick around in the first place? Why not go back to Asgard? Are you that close to Thor?"

"You think I stay here because of Thor?"

"Well, he's the only person here you have a connection to. I can't imagine why you'd stay here instead of returning to Asgard."

"There's nothing for me back on Asgard."

"Really?"

"Is that so surprising?"

"I just wonder- how bad it could be there for you to stay on a planet you hate. I mean, there are other places you could go right? So why here? Do you have a lover or something?" You ask which makes Loki laugh a full genuine laugh that you don't think you've ever heard from him. He's usually just dry snickers.

"A lover? Here on Earth? That's an idea."

"Too farfetched for you to find love here on Earth?"

"On Earth." He hums.

"Is love not on the table for you in general?"

"It's- What is love anyway?"

"Someone told me once that love is watching someone die." You hum.

"What?"

"Love is watching someone die. So I guess the real question is who's gonna watch you die?"

"Who's gonna watch you die? That's so morbid."

"Yeah well, she was dying when she said it." You shrug standing up.

"Where are you going?" He asks.

"I'm pretty tired, but it was nice talking to you Loki."

"You're just going to drop an existential question and then leave?"

"You asked me what is love, I'm asking you who's going to watch you die. Maybe the answer to that will tell you what love is." You say leaving him alone with his thoughts.

Love is watching someone die.

It's not something Loki understood at the time, it's something he barely understood yesterday, but now, as everyone panics around you, it finally clicks. He's here because he loves you, everyone in the room is here because they love you and now they're practically holding their breaths knowing each passing moment takes you a little farther away from them. Still, no one, not even Loki would rather be anywhere but right here at this moment. Because he loves you even if that means watching you die. It doesn't feel fair, you had all these plans you'll never get to see through but Loki would rather lose you than never experience what it means to be loved by you. Maybe it's only in these moments that someone knows who truly loves them; by whose left when time is just about running out.

So, when the shrill beeps of the heart monitor trade in their steady tempo for a prolonged sound and the room finally stills with the reality of time being up, Loki doesn't even stand to join the circle around your bed. All he does is whisper ever so quietly to himself,

"Love is watching someone die."

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #loki #loki fanfic #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki angst

[bittersweetblasphemy]

what made you decide to have a go at making zines, and how did you find the process? fun? frustrating? new hobby unlocked?

it's been a lot of fun and is super satisfying to hold a finished booklet in my hand. new hobby unlocked for sure.

in fact i'm going to ramble about it under the cut.

i'd been looking into on and off for over a year, and, frankly, i've been going slowly mad at having normal levels of focus and productivity dangled in front of me, only to be snatched away AND put on bed rest without even jacking off as an outlet.

i did a bunch of painting, but i've run out of canvases and focus. and while i really wanna sculpt, 1) i just haven't gotten my brain to switch to that track, 2) i've only just recently been able to tolerate standing at my usual work counter again, 3) having a small child who wants to mirror everything i do is fun when i'm physically able to handle it, but i am not physically able to handle it. i can do a craft myself OR i can set them up with supervised craft time. not both.

that leaves my writing, but i haven't been able to focus enough to write. so what to do with all my old stuff? may as well take that last leap into making zines! it's also an excuse for me to break out my drawing tablet to make cover art (i'm not good but they're small and it adds to the charm i think).

overall it's been shockingly easy. the hardest part was making a format template, but once i had that figured out i was set. i conveniently already had a laser printer, and considering i can't go anywhere (like a place with a public printer) i wouldn't have been able to do this otherwise.

the most expensive thing i had to buy for this was a nice paper cutter, which was $24. it honestly wasn't necessary. i could have just folded the paper or cut them with scissors, but imo it really goes a long way in making them look nice. i also have a long reach stapler that's made for making booklets and magazines coming in that will be really nice for putting them together neatly and consistently.

i still dont know what i'm going to do with them tbh. i have some friends that are gonna get free copies of their favs, and at least the poetry one i'm going to have out if i'm able to do the craft fairs this year (fuck me i hope i'm better by then), but i need to see what kind of stuff they allow. even if they allow sexually explicit material, i'll probably still leave stories like Red Hot at home.

i could do an online shop for the rest, but i'm not sure where. i already have a kofi account for commissions, and they have a shop feature, but at the same time they say in their TOS they don't allow any form of sexually explicit material. and last i heard about etsy they were being shitty about charging for advertising you didn't opt into. so i'd need to do more research into that.

say what you want about whether or not i should be able to make a profit off of little homemade porn booklets, but i'd at least need enough money to buy the toner for my printer by the time i ran out, which is hella expensive. i think back when i got this thing it was like $70 a pop. it lasts a lot longer than ink but it's more expensive up front.

#madax answers #rambling about zines

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Shake things up, 5, taakitz

5. this marriage was supposed to be a scam but, but listen,

--

Kravitz's door wasn't locked when Taako tried to open it, which he took as an obvious sign to come in. He had been in this room a few times before, though they mostly just chilled in the living room or one of the various offices around the house. Mansion? Taako felt shitty calling it a mansion, so it was just a really big and luxurious house. Kravitz's room was dark and there were various things piled up on his desk. The closet was open and Taako could see the crisp white suit they had picked out a few weeks ago hanging as he stepped further inside.

This whole situation was... weird. And wacky. Two words that Taako had previously been content with describing his life but bow it was all the wrong kinds of weird and wacky.

His show had been- not failing, per se, but not thriving either a few months ago. They had needed something to up their sales and views and for some godforsaken reason, Taako had suggested marriage. A fake marriage, of course, of course. Really, if anyone was to be blamed, it was Barry and Lup for putting the idea of marriage into his head in the first place with their beautiful ceremony last year.

But, as with any stupid plan, there were problems.

First, Taako didn't have anyone to marry. There were suitors lined up for miles, of course, but he didn't wanna marry someone who only wanted him to be famous. So when he met Kravitz- hot, downright handsome, peak "starving artist" Kravitz- it had been perfect. Kravitz could act and Taako would at least have some eye candy to get through the ceremony before the inevitable divorce two months afterward.

Then, the unpredictable happened.

He fell in love with Kravitz. Like, genuinely in love, not "I will smile at you on camera but otherwise please leave me alone" love. And, if Lup was telling the truth at all, which she claimed she was but Taako was gonna thrash her if she wasn't, then Kravitz loved him too. The plan was to wait until after the ceremony to tell him, but Taako can't really sleep with that sword dangling over him.

And, apparently, neither could Kravitz.

He wasn't in the bed. Taako shifted through some of the covers like Kravitz could somehow be hiding under them, but no, he wasn't there. As Taako turned back around, sorely regretting this idea, Kravitz cleared his throat. He stood by the door, looking awkward. Taako tried to pretend like this was a normal situation he had been caught in.

"Hail and well met," Taako said. Normal went right out the window.

But Kravitz smiled. Granted, awkward and embarrassed, but he was smiling.

"I- I was looking for you," Kravitz said. "But you weren't in your room."

"Well, uh," Taako said, bouncing on the heels of his feet. "Same hat."

"I... I have something I wanna say?" Kravitz said. He shook his head and seemed to try to give himself more confidence. He repeated, "I have something I wanna say."

"Go for it," Taako said because the "me too" died somewhere halfway up his throat.

Kravitz took a deep breath, stepping further into the room. He shut the door behind him.

"This is gonna sound... weird," he said. "And a little wacky, maybe?"

"Here," Taako said, hoisting himself up onto the bed. He patted the space next to him. "I'm down for weird and wacky, bones."

Kravitz nodded, coming forward to sit on the bed too. He looked at Taako and opened his mouth, but only made a little choking sound before looking away. A few locs fell from where he had them up in a bun. He steeled himself with another deep breath and tried again,

"I know the marriage was supposed to be a scam but I think I'm actually in love with you," Kravitz said.

"Oh," Taako said. Kravitz tucked a loc behind his ear.

"It's just that- like I knew you were a decent person," Kravitz said. "Everyone- everyone in the world is in love with you Taako, and while you might be afraid they aren't, I don't really think anything is gonna change that. But I didn't really realize why, because I didn't know who you were 'til a few months ago."

Kravitz looked up and Taako remembered the first meeting they had, in the garden a few floors below. Taako's manager and assistant had been there but talking to Kravitz that day had given him a terrible case of tunnel vision. He went over his assistants' notes yesterday and realized the only thing he remembered if Kravitz telling him he lived off instant ramen for most of his college career.

"People think you're kind of an asshole, but that you're still charming," Kravitz said. "Which is true! In the best way possible. But nothing ever mentioned how kind you were. Or that you'd make me soup when I was sick or that you were this funny, like oh my god-" Taako cracked a grin. "I just- I realized a few weeks ago that I was gonna get to marry you, like you, Taako, not famous TV star Taako. And I realized that I- I didn't wanna end that with divorce, even if it didn't mean anything. And I didn't wanna get married to you without telling you this because I don't think I could live with myself."

Kravitz let out a breathless, nervous chuckle, and Taako...

"Same hat," Taako blurted out, again. "Fuck. I mean, uhm- yes. Same. Yes, you- I get that."

Kravitz opened his mouth to speak again, but Taako beat him to the punch.

"You're a really shitty cook," Taako said. "But I don't mind because that means that everything I make you appreciate. And you're really supportive and just- hilarious. You're the third funniest person I know-"

"Who-?"

"Me and Lup in that order," Taako said and Kravitz grinned. "And- and yeah, babe, I- I wanna marry you. For realsies. I was gonna wait 'til after to tell you, but then I was like, I don't think I can say "I do" without you knowing I mean it, and I just-" Taako cut himself off, making a frustrated noise. Words were hard sometimes, goddamn. How did people do feelings all the time?

"Can I kiss you?" he asked, instead of finishing whatever shitty speech he had started.

Kravitz nodded, looking a little teary and already leaning in. Taako met him halfway, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. Kravitz wrapped his arms around Taako's shoulders, drawing him closer, and they definitely weren't sitting right before this but-

"Hot damn," Taako said when he finally, finally pulled back. Kravitz was halfway in his lap, flushed but looking so happy. Kravitz laughed, leaning in again. This one was shorter, but only because Taako needed to draw back and continue with, "we better do this every day or I'm actually divorcing you in two months."

"Just once a day?" Kravitz asked, looking as offended as Taako felt about that idea.

"Literally all the time," Taako said, kissing him again, and again. "I'm gonna start screaming if you leave the room for more than five minutes."

"I don't think I'd even last that long," Kravitz said, starting another kiss. Taako's back hit the bed, but they didn't break apart. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow. But between this and sleeping, Taako would much rather be here.

#taakitz #taako #kravitz #taz #taz balance #mine #asks #anon #ise cube writing

[kradogsrats]

anyway I entered some kind of MILF-induced fugue state and when I came to, I'd written this???

1500-ish words, rated M for suggestiveness and predatory behavior toward a minor (but no actual sexual content, implied or otherwise), TL;DR Rayla arrives in Scumport and Redfeather sees opportunity. To seduce her. Just to be clear, Redfeather wants to seduce Rayla. That's the fic.

—

The girl is young and pale and soft, sweet as moonberries and more naive than an orphan adoraburr. She and the weird little pet perched on her shoulder enter Scumport like newborn deer wandering into a cave of banthers, and Redfeather knows she'll have her wrapped around her fingers in minutes.

Rayla, as she's called, turns out to not have the sense to leave her name or the distinctive indigo slashes on her face behind with the ship that brought her. She's after information on a human, a dark mage, which Redfeather already knew from her clumsy performance in the market. Her chase seems to be personal—always the best kind—but she has nothing to offer in her search for leads. Everything in Scumport costs, usually more than the buyer expects.

She also carries her Ghosting like a wound, open and festering. Redfeather picks at it delicately, drawing out enough pain to make the girl seek comfort, then dangling enough familiarity to have her reaching instinctively toward a friend.

It's almost a shame, what Scumport will do to her—this sweet little Rayla. She'll come out better for it, though. She'll learn.

Maybe Redfeather will get to teach her.

Either way, it's an opportunity she can't pass up. She drops the hints that she may know something—which maybe she does, maybe she doesn't—and that she's willing to trade some kind of work for it. A favor.

"I'll do it," Rayla says, barely hesitating. Her pet chitters unhappily. "Tell me what you want."

"Just a little job," Redfeather replies dismissively. "I'm hungry, and I bet you are, too—come on, I'll fill you in on the details while we eat." She doesn't wait for Rayla to agree, just saunters out into the street in the direction of the nearest tavern and expects her to follow. She does, of course.

The tavern is just starting to fill up for dinner, and Redfeather elbows her way to the counter to buy a bowl of fish chowder for Rayla and tankards of ale for both of them before claiming a secluded corner table. Slowly, bit by bit, Rayla relaxes and eats, feeding the occasional tidbit to her pet. She listens and nods while Redfeather amiably runs her mouth about anything and nothing, somehow never quite getting around to talking about the job.

Long after the meal is finished, and the little four-armed fuzzball has curled up to sleep in the hood of Rayla's cloak, Redfeather finally falls silent. She raises her tankard to drink, gazing over the rim with half-lidded eyes unabashedly focused on Rayla's soft mouth. Rayla sees her looking and glances quickly away, eyes wide. Redfeather watches her swallow and smiles into her tankard.

"So who are they?" she asks casually, sensing that the time is right. "The person you left behind?"

Caught by surprise, Rayla pales, then blushes like roses blossoming under the shadow of knifeblades. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, thoroughly unconvincing.

"Come on," Redfeather teases, as if they've been friends from girlhood. "It's all over you. Who turned your pretty head so far you can't look forward for looking back? A girl? A boy?"

Rayla's blush deepens, and she actually lifts her own tankard and drinks deeply from it in an effort to hide her face. It's certainly not because she wants the drink—Redfeather pretended not to see the face she made earlier, when she took a first, tentative sip. "It's not like that," she grumbles into tankard's depths.

"Not like what?" Redfeather pushes—still playful, still light, but always poking, poking, poking at the edges of that wound. "Are they a childhood sweetheart? Ooh, or maybe a forbidden lover? An assassination target whose charms compelled you to spare them?"

"I said it's not like that!" Rayla snaps, abruptly bristling. She sets her tankard down a little too hard. "Anyway, he's—he's behind me, now. Like you said. I can't stay hung up on looking back."

Redfeather drops her teasing facade, becoming serious. Wistful, even. "I'll drink to that," she says solemnly, clinking her tankard lightly against Rayla's. She manages not to smile when Rayla visibly softens, those big, lavender eyes drawn to her by the tiny hint of vulnerability.

She doesn't say any more, and Rayla doesn't ask. The silence stretches, thick with longing, and she finds herself almost reluctant to break it.

Then, as if on cue, a fight breaks out at the bar—a pair of the burly Tidebound elf dockworkers shoving each other while their friends circle loosely around them, reaching surreptitiously for bottles or knives. Redfeather leans closer to Rayla, jerking her head in their direction. "Let's get out of here before that little party spreads too far. It's not the kind you want to wind up involved in."

Rayla agrees quickly, and her eyes stay warily on the developing fight as they move toward the door—she doesn't even notice when Redfeather lifts the two pretty little blades from her back and tucks them away beneath her own sash, nor does her sleeping pet offer any warning. All too easy.

Outside, it's already dark. The moon has risen, its light prickling on Redfeather's bare skin, and she stretches languidly, hands linked high over her head as she bends side to side with a satisfied groan. Rayla's gaze stutters over the planes of her naked abdomen, and she doesn't stop the smile that curls onto her face at the obvious attention.

"So, I'm betting you also don't have anywhere to stay," she says, still casual. "Am I right?"

"I can camp—"

Redfeather laughs in true disbelief. "What, on the streets? No way—the little job I have for you isn't hard, but it can't be done by a corpse. You can bunk down at my place. I'll even let you have the hammock."

She can't resist punctuating the statement with a wink. Rayla's eyes dart away, ears pinking. "Okay," she says, a hint of a smile showing on her face. "I—thanks."

They walk the rest of the way back to Redfeather's hideout—one of many—in companionable silence. When they're close, Redfeather slows, falling a few steps behind.

"Hey, Rayla," she says, gentling her mouth around the name like the sound is precious. "Hang on just a tick."

Rayla turns, and Redfeather steps forward into her space, crowding her against the wall beside them. Her eyes flick rapidly to meet Redfeather's steady gaze and then away, jittering back and forth. "What?" she says after a long moment of silence, voice wavering slightly. "What is it?"

"The moon's beautiful, tonight," Redfeather says, still looking only at her. "I thought I'd stop a moment to get a better look."

Rayla shivers wonderfully when Redfeather finally touches her, just the ghost of fingertips over the dark slash on her cheek, tracing its curve down to her delicate chin. Her eyes slide closed as her face slowly tilts up, soft, pink mouth parting in trembling anticipation.

Redfeather's smile spreads as she bends to claim the first of what will be many, many tastes of that moonberry sweetness. It's almost disappointing, how easy it all was. Almost.

Then their places are suddenly reversed, and she's pinned—one arm twisted behind her back, the other trapped against the wall by a blade stabbed through her glove just beside her wrist. And, of course, the second blade is creasing her bared throat, just below her jaw.

She laughs, genuinely delighted. That this slim, soft girl managed to lift the blades back from her, somehow—oh, this will be fun. "I thought you were cute, before," she says, her grin as sharp a slash as the steel biting into her skin. "Now, I like you."

"Enough games," Rayla spits. "The dark mage." Her pet, once again perched on her shoulder, screeches as if adding its own angry emphasis.

"I thought you were going to do me a favor?"

Her pale face twists in rosy fury, and the blade presses deeper into Redfeather's throat. "That kind of favor is not on the table. Or on the bed. Hammock. Whatever."

"Believe me, you'd feel differently about tables if you'd ever tried doing it in a hammock." Redfeather laughs again, wiggling the fingers of her pinned hand suggestively. "But no, this was just a bit of fun—a job is a job. If you don't want to play with me, we can go back to strictly business."

"I'm not here to play." Rayla's lavender glare is matched by the violet one of her pet. It hisses indignantly, fur standing on end.

Redfeather shrugs, nonchalant. "Fine, then. No harm, no foul."

Rayla hesitates, the blade still pressed to her throat, then releases her wrist and yanks the other out of the wall to free her glove. She steps back several paces, both blades leveled threateningly at Redfeather until she's well out of reach.

Redfeather raises her hands in a placating gesture. "Hammock offer is still open, by the way," she says. "You'll need to sleep, sometime—Scumport's not kind to those not alert enough to stay one step ahead."

Rayla barks a laugh. "You're crazy if you think it'll be anywhere near you, after that. I'll manage."

"Suit yourself."

Moonlight flashes off the blades as they twirl closed, and Rayla's eyes stay on Redfeather as she backs away. Then she turns, and vanishes into the dark.

Redfeather chuckles, stretching again—though this time it's to work the pain out of her twisted shoulder, rolling it in various directions to loosen it again. She runs her thumb idly along the fine line Rayla's blade left in her throat, then licks the gathered blood from it, still grinning.

She'll learn.

#genuinely don't know what this is #r-raylafeather? #raylafeather #kradogsfic

[crwn-nrth]

Word tag game!

Thank you thank you @sentfromwolves for the tag! I've always wanted to do the find the word tag game.

I'm doing this for VH wip and my words are: rust, ember, damp, breath, teeth

(sadly i did not have the words rust or damp)

Ember --- Chapter: Dream log #256

The world comes back into focus slowly, in drips of color and sound. It’s like swimming in molasses or floating through space as I wrestle with my subconscious. I try to cling to the warm fuzzy feeling enveloping me on all sides but then a loud click breaks through the haze, and my eyes flutter open again. It's late outside, or that's what I assume. My legs dangle off the armchair and the glowing embers of the dying fireplace are the only source of light bathing the dark wooden floor panels in a dull orange hue, emphasizing the warmth and forcing my eyes shut. 

Seconds, hours, years later, a hand running through my hair guides me back to the land of the living. It's large and callous and gentle as it passes through my locks and I let myself drift further, tethered only by the soothing motions. 

A rumble. "You left your porch light on." The deep vibrato tone has my mind settling in bliss. Safe, home. A light tug at the end of my hair informs me that the voice is waiting for a response. 

"Left it on for you." I mumble, prying my eyes open. Kind blue eyes smile down at me.

 "You don't have to do that." There is a hint of laughter in his words, some subtle joke that my hazy brain can't catch on to. 

"How else would you find your way home?" 

The rumbling laughter that follows starts low and soft, bringing a smile to my face. Then it sharpens and fades, ebbing and flowing like the reeling of the tide, surrounding me from all sides. It's everywhere and nowhere all at once. 

It's a sharp slap of icy water to the face.

Breath --- Chapter 4: The Universe Loves Meddling

The kid was naively unaware what hopelessness does to a soul.

My gaze caught onto the puddle at my feet. The water shimmered in the streetlight as my reflection stared at me with disdain. A droplet of water from a pipe above disturbed the surface and by the time the ripples died down, my reflection had been replaced by a familiar sight. The cold blue eyes that bore into my soul and the distinctive square jaw stirred an aching within me. Time slowed and a voice echoed within my mind, "but you know?"

Yes. it forces man to do the unthinkable; it chips away and corrupts the soul as it pushes away all morals. It forces man to do what he would never have done otherwise. The actions that a man makes under this despondent spell, he regrets till his dying breath.

The ghost said no more and time resumed. The sounds of bustling market swelled up around me, pulling me from the reflection and away from its icy hold.

Teeth --- Chapter 8: This is not a Library

I let the knock ring through the place, hopelessly hoping that the kid would simply leave. Unfortunately, i had horrible luck and the kid was horribly stubborn. I slowly made my way through the the maze of stacked books, inching closer to the door as the knocks refused to cease. As I finally found the way out of the fragile labyrinth, the kid's muffled voice reached out, "Hello! Mr. Ryder! I know you're home!"

I let in a deep breath. Murder is wrong.

Before the kid could begin his incessant knocking once again, I threw open the front door.

The kid tumbled a little at the sudden opening but righted himself quick enough, flashing his blinding smile. I entertained the thought of knocking all his teeth out for just a single moment.

“Good morning Mr. Ryder!” he chirped.

“You have already said that to me, kid hero.” I muttered, thinking about those nuisance messages.

His smile only brightened, “yep i did! But I can finally say it in person! And you can finally say it back cause you never reply to the messages.”

“No.”

------

I don't have anyone specific to tag so whoever sees it please feel free to give this a go.

your words are: sunshine, shadow, ghost, and hero!

#i love them your honor #two of my favorite things popped up in these snippets: the ghost and Ryder and the kid's banter #writeblr tag games #writeblr #my writing #vh wip #writing community #writing #writers on tumblr #writing snippet #tag open for anyone

[floweramongstthecold]

Did someone say Ball?!

Hi yes hello, I decided to do the Ishgardian Ball headcanons that @starrysnowdrop did on her blog for Zekir and Nikita.

Nikita and Zekir would probably only go to a Winter Ball or Masquerade one since there are just way too many Balls being thrown sometimes. They'd probably also go to one celebrating the Scions as well.

Niki would have her hair in an up do with a themed comb keeping it together.

Her dress would be a simple princess ballgown that's not too floofy, with a shawl around her shoulders or some kind of cape.

Niki would wear an obvious but subtle hand chain with gems that either matched the color of her dress or be in whatever color she felt like wearing, which would probably be one of her favorite colors.

Around Niki's neck would be a Victorian-esque choker with some kind of camo charm on it.

Zekir on the other hand, would probably find a way to show off just a little bit.

His hair is long so it'd either be in a ponytail or a long braid, with a jeweled lariat.

Around Zekir's neck would be a dangling necklace either made of beads or jewels. On his wrist would either be some kind of Ironworks watch or a bangle bracelet.

Zekir's tuxedo would either be black, red, or white with gold or silver cuff links.

His cologne would be subtle and a scent that Niki likes, while Niki's perfume would be subtly flowery.

When it comes time for the waltz, Zekir's gonna just pick Niki up and dance with her. She wouldn't mind at all since she'd have access to his face. There WILL be subtle kisses during that dance when nobody's looking. Plus some nose rubs and forehead touches. So it's a whole win/win situation for her really.

After dancing, socializing and refreshments; Niki and Zekir would probably find a way to the upstairs balcony or into the garden so they could breathe and stargaze, if it's not snowing too heavily.

Otherwise they'll just leave and head to their room or hop an airship back home so they could rest.

There might be something I'm missing but I don't know what it is. XS

#Ishgardian Ball #ship name: Twin Tails #Zekir x Nikita #FF14 OCs #OCship

[burned-lariat]

I love my trend of watching two movies on select home flights. The last time I did it, I watched Lady Bird and Love, Simon. I enjoyed both.

This time, I watched The Whale and Bodies Bodies Bodies and...hmm.

The Whale

I'll get this out of the way: Brendan Fraser EARNED that damn award. EARNED IT. His performance was fantastic. Close second to Hong Chau (Liz the nurse). Otherwise, there wasn't much to engage with. The plot was fairly non-existent (I think we were watching this man just kill himself, and thus, it was the "plot"). I was constantly gaslit to think Ellie was worth investment, especially by Charlie, though it's debatable on whether or not he's meant to be listened to (considering how he was never shown to be a liar, seems like his take was meant to be correct). You could've done without Thomas - he was unneeded. I get it's based on a play, but you mean to tell me that the script writer and Aronofsky couldn't toy with certain elements more?

I also think the movie was too short to do what the staff wanted it to do. I saw I was about 80 minutes in, and almost nothing had happened. Nothing progressed the "plot" beyond Charlie's eating disorder as he marched further and further, and this "reconnection" with Ellie was on an infinite loop that was very unearned at the end of the film. I think there could've been something there with having characters like Ellie and Thomas craft deeper empathy upon seeing Charlie's plight, where Ellie understands that her father's decisions are not on a black-and-white binary and Thomas steps out of the fanaticism circle (plus it gives the character more relevance). Liz worked just fine in her role, and she was a high point story-wise. Same with the ex-wife, though her only being in one sequence and having their past all dumped in a lone monologue really is a bummer. Fraser and Chau were great, but the rest couldn't get there.

6/10.

Bodies Bodies Bodies

About 20 mins in, when someone described the BBB game, I realized I'm just basically watching an IRL game of Among Us go wrong and had to hunker down. I actually did find myself quite bored down the stretch, mostly between deaths, because there was just a bunch of walking around and dead air during the hurricane. Each of the characters had the depth of a puddle, even for the characters that were meant to have more than that (like Bee and Sophie). The acting was hit or miss - I think Stenberg was the best of the bunch, Davidson was fine for his limited time, Sennott swung between great and flat, and everyone else was just kind of dull. I didn't care about them. There was nothing to engage with. I don't need to like you, I need to engage with you, and if I can't get that, then it's a wash because I stop caring.

I also think this film suffered from being too short, and I'd actually argue that Bee isn't needed. You could still have the plot work without the end twist (it was dumb!!) and having Sophie as the sole lead, where her return after rehab and the subsequent playing of the game outs all the drama. Speaking of drama, much of these characters' histories were told to me. I want to see it, not be told it. Why not have people mention a memory or flinch on a trigger over behavior instead of dialogue dumps of content (which I'll get to) and constantly saying "oh we're longtime besties!!" every other sentence?

Speaking of, good God did this movie just spill the details of the group's qualms practically unprovoked. We didn't get to see it in nuanced performances or context clues via presence and scenery and dialogue: we got EXPOSITION DUMPS. Jordan's beef about Sophie? Teased for a scene or two in the very beginning, left out to dry for a while, and then dumped en masse when she squared off with Bee and Sophie. Max and David beefing over Emma? Two mini conversations about it with no clues teasing such (like if the idea is that they wanna dangle Max as the red herring, they could leave inside jokes or teases that point in his direction like making David's injuries around the black eye). Max doesn't show up at all until the very last scene, so what was the point of him even being brought up or included? What is the point of everyone dying if the plot unravels to not be a campy murder mystery after all? That's not fun!

If this was meant to lampoon Gen Z/Tik Tok culture and how people like the group bastardize mental health language & AAVE, it did not come across that way to me. It came off as those stereotypes playing Among Us But You Actually Die (and even then it's a stretch considering the ending).

4/10.

#yayyy more movie commetary no one asked for!! #I'm trying to at least watch more movies and current media so I'm in the know Ig #maybe if i hate myself enough I'll try The Idol!! or even go back to Euphoria (still hate you Sam) #spoiler alert-ish

[fuwaprince]

Wishing I had it in me to beg for support/help but I keep telling myself I don't deserve it. Also just don't have it in me to beg rn...

I'm about to vent about some shit so read at your own risk. This guy who fantasizes about me as his (and concerningly makes decisions based on these fantasies) is the only person irl reaching out rn and his obvious advancements/self-centered motives kind of... makes it hard to call him the friend he claims to be to me

I told him not to help me if it's just to coerce me into being his gf or for sex, he said it's not like that by insisting that he genuinely cares 🙄 then he gets all pouty and passive aggressive when I don't let him do whatever the hell he wants to me.

I don't want to be rude whenever uncool things happen so I just act chill while sternly and irritatedly saying stop most of the time. He justs asks "Why huh?" in a clearly frustrated way, repeatedly. He'll insist I look like I like it so my answer ("BECAUSE.") somehow isn't reason enough for his ill logic. Despite my disapproving face and me saying "stop" and "no!" and "don't make me grab a fly swatter". Kind of disgustingly disrespectful if that's how you'd treat the person you wish would be your wife.

I was so guilty when I was homeless and I was so desperate for a place to shower that I RELUCTANTLY and CONDITIONALLY accepted his help and came over to his house knowing how he felt. His mom yelled at me for not having sex with him or dating him and being a "bad woman" (LITERALLY I get I hurt her sons feelings by not fucking him and he probably cried about it but LITERALLY OMG) the morning after I had spent the night... and he didn't even TRY stop her, he just watched... He let her falsely imprison me to further verbally abuse me when I tried to leave and didn't help when I pointed it out.

I still accepted his offer for a hotel after. A lot of this was out of desperation. Could you imagine having sex with somebody purely because you felt unspoken obligation/pressure/expectation? I don't even like letting him steal kisses from me. I say let him like I allowed it but the only thing I let him do is live afterwards. He doesn't give a fuck about me as a human being.

He's asking if he can take me to see Barbie now and is so persistent. I would honestly love to see it but I've been depressed all day. I haven't eaten. Haven't showered or managed to brush my teeth. No water. My dried blood is still underneath my nails from nervously digging throughout a difficult day. He knows this. He doesn't care...

He just wants to offer me a pink shake to share so that he can fantasize about me being his gf and take pics. A real friend would just get me my own damn shake and fries and we'd be fine with or without Barbie.

I suspect that he just wants to touch me in the middle of the theater. I can't say this for a fact but I know that's what he always talks about when it comes to him wanting to watch a movie.... And he never keeps his hands to himself at least with me... Barbie is supposed to heal my inner child!!!! He knows how badly I wanted to see Barbie and feel Kenough. He knows I wouldn't leave in the middle of it, not even to pee. Now I just feel like he's dangling what he knows I won't have otherwise so that he can use it as an excuse for a "date" even though he's fucking fantasizing it because it's literally NOT a date.

I don't want him to ruin Barbie. I'm just sad.

#i asked what he refers to me as out of curiosity when talking about me to his friends #he said girlfriend with a space #then asked if he could make the space any smaller 🤮 #like dude I'm a man in cosplay basically and I'm sorry you fell for it but pls 🤮 stop dreaming 🤮 #he fucking deadnames me. #I'm so sad and him messaging trying to have a date sucks #i told him i just wish i had a great dad and he talks about how he will be older like 🤮 noooo not you 🤮 #i literally just wish i had a fckn dad... #a good one ya know? #vent #I'm very clear that i don't like him like that and I'm not interested whatsoever #i can go without Barbie for a while

[mxanigel]

Cut to the Feeling

an Attack on Titan (Shingeki no Kyojin) fanfic

Chapter 9: Chain Reaction [or read from the beginning]

A simple act of kindness brings Shion to Levi's quarters. She isn't prepared for what follows.

Rating: M

Relationships: Levi Ackerman/Original Female Character(s), Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë & Original Female Character(s)

Additional Tags: They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, Hange Zoë Being Hange Zoë, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Canon Character Deaths, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Spoilers, Friendship, Banter, Swearing, Angst, Love and Loss, Queer Character, Asexuality Spectrum, Levi Ackerman Is Obsessed With Cleaning, Levi Ackerman Needs a Hug, 57th Expedition Outside the Walls (Shingeki no Kyojin), Falling In Love, I'm writing this because it's taken over my brain, Literal Sleeping Together, First Kiss

Snippet below the cut:

-----

“—stuck on laundry duty.”

“Orders are orders, man.”

“But we’re soldiers, not laborers.”

“If you don’t want to wait any longer, leave. I’m staying.”

“You are such a—”

“You know soldiers need clean laundry as much as anyone else, right?” Shion interjects.

The two young men whirl to face her; their faces are familiar, though she can’t recall their names, and they salute on sight. “Squad Leader Shion!” one exclaims.

Damn. Serve in that role once and never hear the end of it. She might as well use it to her advantage. “At ease.” She glances at the pair of sheets dangling from a nearby otherwise empty clothesline illuminated by torchlight. “What needs to be done with these?”

They glance at each other. “We were waiting for Captain Levi to pick them up.”

Levi’s nothing if not punctual, especially when cleanliness is involved. Though why would he delegate the wash to these soldiers instead of handling it himself? “You didn’t think to deliver them yourselves instead of waiting?”

The shorter one smacks the other’s arm. “See? I told you we should’ve tried that instead of missing dinner.”

“I didn’t want to piss off that captain by deviating from his orders.”

Shion rolls her eyes. Levi isn’t that much of a hardass. Probably. “Go find something to eat. I’ll handle this.”

“Yes, sir!”

After they march away, she neatly folds the sheets, ensuring they never touch the ground. And then she woodenly walks to Levi’s room. Perhaps he won’t be there, she’ll just drop off the sheets, and she’ll move on with her evening. Taking a series of deep breaths, she works up the courage to knock.

#attack on titan fanfic #shingeki no kyojin fanfic #Levi Ackerman #Hange Zoë #OC: Shion Miller #nonbinary Hange Zoë #Hange & Levi #Hange Zoë & OC #Levi x OC #literal sleeping together #first kiss #fic: Cut to the Feeling #Female Titan spoilers #IT'S HERE IT'S FINALLY HERE AAAAH THIS CHAPTER HAS BEEN BURNING A HOLE IN MY BRAIN

[night-spectrum]

Hi! I'm taking this opportunity to let you know that I speak French (that's my mother tongue and I leave in France) and that if you need someone to translate anything or whatever you need that's in French, I'm willing to help you for FREE (I enjoy it) I've been reading some Moon Knight fan fictions and Steven's French was weird so if you want it to sound natural I'm right here pls 🥹

This is a piece of writing of mine (I will unfortunately not finish it) Reader was supposed to be chased by some kind of mafia /gang you name it and forced to move to London and so meet Steven then Marc, Jake and Khonshu.

Sorry for the mistakes 🫣

At noon, I waited on the doorstep, swinging from one foot to the other while Juni detailed the papers spread on the table. I felt that he held his anger, his fists clenched to whiten his knuckles. Again, his phone had rung while he was working and seeing the number that had appeared - in this case mine - he had become tense. That’s how I imagined it. Yes, I could clearly see the scene: with his back arched and always leaning over a sheet of paper, he stamped again and again the same nonsense that made him tired. When I saw my number appear on his phone, I saw him moaning before replying furiously.

So there he was, his back was hunched over the pile of papers and the chair of my desk where he was sitting was squeaking as he stretched out his bruised body. I didn’t dare talk to him, I knew I’d upset him more. The mere fact of coming to Huddersfield had already hurt his ego so I just looked at him from behind the half-open door. His hair was sticking to his skin and the smell of sweat was in the air, but I held back from making any comment about it.

Juni finally got up, slowly. He sighed one more time and massaged his neck. I offered him a snack, which he obviously refused. His cold eyes on me hurt and I would lie if I said otherwise. There was no sign of compassion or palpable affection around him, just him in front of me and his arms dangling along the body.

He passed by me without a word to the front door. I wondered what he was thinking; when I saw his dark eyes surrounded, I wondered if sleep always left him out of company.

"You have two weeks to get out of here." He just said, as if it were the most futile thing in the world.

"Wh-what?"

He sighed.

"Look, I warned you that it would end badly. These guys don’t let you get away with it."

Panic gripped my throat and I suddenly had trouble breathing. Juni’s coldness seemed very hot to me next to the bomb he had just dropped on my head. His gaze was still frozen with apathy, even when I hoped there was a drop of pity.

"You’ll help me, won’t you?" I tried.

It was very stupid of me to believe that, I knew it and Juni too but I was really desperate this time. He did not smile or even bother to laugh at me; I wondered why he even came to see me.

"It’s over this time. Really over. I say good luck, but I don’t think you’ll get it."

With these harsh words, he opened the front door and disappeared into the stairwell without a last look. I closed the door softly, without any force in my arms. I was sincerely at the end of my rope. How was I supposed to find a new apartment and move in in less than two weeks? The space was expanding under my feet and I was overcome with dreadful vertigo. My heart was pounding in my chest; I was hyperventilating. My swollen eyes burned me and my sight became blurred: a tear rolled over my cheek.

What really hurt me in this sordid story was that I had lost the one person who mattered to me in this world. I had hurt Juni to the point of not even repulsing him so much that my case would not matter. I was alone in the world for good and no one would reach out to me because this world was drowning the little goodness that resisted. Wasn’t that why I had to leave my house?

Unfortunately, I didn’t have time to complain about my fate, and God knows I could have spent hours there. Time was against me, and the clock took no pity. Every second that passed was one more step towards the scaffold. Death watched me with her big black, empty, cold eyes.

I took a good breath before wiping my wet face with the back of my hand and got back on my feet, determined not to die.

Packing my suitcase did not take me a lot of time; the most complicated was to find a place to stay. I turned the computer on quickly and looked for something acceptable in Huddersfield.   My findings were not glorious: only seedy and/or misplaced apartments.

The gulf in my chest opened more and more, and I thought I was liquefying on the spot. I eventually resigned myself and accepted that the whole city was no longer safe; my heart gripped painfully. I had grown up here, made my whole life here and today this idyllic canvas flew away in a deadly gust. I no longer held back the sobs that shook me, desperately seeking a way out despite my eyes embittered by tears.

After a few minutes, I finally spotted an old loft in London. The photos were not great and taken in haste to try to hide the misery. I hesitated. Around me, my bright and colorful apartment inspired me with comfort and safety; it reminded me of the good times I had spent with Juni. His look made me freeze in the back, I felt it assailed me with burning stitches and who pursued me tirelessly to remind me of the finality of my fate. I was like poor Io, chased by the wrath of Hera and forced to plunge, at the end of her strength, into the Nile to escape. Except I wasn’t a goddess and no god would take pity on me.

Clicking on the link, which was several months old, I gave my contact details to contact the lessor. The wait was not long since my phone rang immediately and the call came from London. Against all odds, a gentle and warm voice spoke to me with vigor.

She had posted the ad a long time ago but no one wanted to move into an old apartment stuck on a shopping street. I listened attentively as she spoke to me honestly, detailed the building and its residents, one of whom was apparently suffering from dementia. I appreciated her frankness and let her know; she probably did not expect me to accept the offer because she let an exclamation of surprise escape her. I told her I needed to move in as soon as possible and, again, she kindly invited me coming as soon as possible, that the apartment was already available.

Time covered itself. An imposing cloud hovered over the city and a few drops fell, which quickly turned into a torrent, pounding the earth and buildings. I turned under my sheets, a weight in my belly. Train tickets were printed and placed prominently on the coffee table in my living room. I had not even notified my landlord or even my boss; I had merely sent them a brief email. The storm was roaring outside and I could hear the horns of the cars mingling with the driving rain.

I spent my days locked up. My phone chip was crushed and completely out of order. My phone had suffered an identical spell: the shards served as decoration for the fish in the cold waters of the canal.

#moon knight #x reader #unfinished #french lessons #english to french #i don't what tag to put here

[zealousdetectivegladiator]

🤡 😈💖🦅

Figured I would answer your ask, @tkwritesdumbassassins, before I wrapped up edits for the next chapter of This Too, Too Solid Flesh!

What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh? There are two that come to mind immediately. The first one is in last chapter, when Gilberto throws bread at Federico to tell him it's time to leave his hiding spot. The second is an exchange between Ezio and Gilberto early in the next chapter :)

Is there a point in a story where you did something to be playfully mean to your readers? Actually in We Brothers, We Sisters, We Vod'e Few there were a few times. Given how long it is, though, and the recent brief hiatus it was on I'd have to skim through all 108 chapters of it to find specific references oof. As for in This Too, Too Solid Flesh, I think the most recent one would be between when Federico started having internal "this guy is awfully arrogant" up until he realized it was, in fact, Ezio. After that, it does turn serious. Before that, though, it was definitely me dangling it in front of my readers a little bit lol

What made me start writing? GOOD QUESTION but I'm afraid I don't have a good answer? I've been writing stories of some variety most of my life. I think part of it was that I was a pretty lonely kid. In high school, I went on and off from writing but didn't really pick it back up seriously until college, which was also when I started taking the craft part of it more seriously. I have some historical fiction ideas that maybe one day I might turn into Something but otherwise I've found that as much as I love the craft I enjoy doing it in fanfic spaces most. Talking to people and making friends has been what's kept me writing the last several years.

Do you outline fics or fly by the seat of your pants? Both! I actually tend to go in with a very loose outline. I generally have an idea of where it starts and where it ends, and then I play with the middle until I like it. If I overplan I feel too much like I've already written the whole story. I also tend to like the flexibility in case I need to change things or retcon later on. With stories like This Too, Too Solid Flesh it works really well, because those are somewhat contained. For stories like We Brothers, We Sisters, We Vod'e Few, however, it can get super out of hand. I keep cracking jokes about it, but that's partly because I'm still kind of baffled at how long it's been going (for context, I started it like a year and nine months ago, it was only supposed to be 20 chapters, and Chapter 108 just went out today oof).