tuagonia

[tuagonia]

more on this thought: 

it probably started following them around during a patrol. M couldn’t shake the cat to get out of their way. But then it does something endearing/funny like pounce on a grasshopper and miss...or something. It makes M chuckle unexpectedly.

Then the cat gets skittish at a loud noise... which makes M frown and... they stop trying to get the street cat to no longer follow them...

Why is it that I’m correct when I say M would bring home a street cat they found.

#and that is how the most recent member of ub came home #hcs and stuff #twc m

[tuagonia]

you already know the drill, under the cut to see my misuse of capslock

I. October: oh when you walk by every night, talking sweet and looking fine

I already hate you.

 ...squinting down at the backs of the cases as though he wasn’t wearing glasses at all.

Am i going to end up just like...quoting the entire fic back at you? Perhaps.

But you’re doing the thing again, the thing I don’t have a name for. The organicness. The Trader Joe’s of the Writing World, Aj. HOW? This entire little section dedicated to sussing out his appearance is just making me all sorts of not good. Like unable to form actual words kinda not good. Just “ heem tol.” 

Jujubes that threatened to pull her teeth out with each mouthful.

Shut up. Shut UP. SHUT UP. HELP!!! This is so visceral.

The faintly chemically smell of the carpet, with its bright, graphic triangles and squares running underneath her feet. 

Omg and here it is. My favourite thing of all time. The thing. This decade-defining visual anchor. Hurts me and shocks me to life in one beautiful sentence which was meant to serve no other purpose but to bring us into the time and scene, but just elevates my emotions. 

(And really, that sounded about right: Leigh Williams: Action Movie Girl. Good with a Glock, unable to cry, fully of quippy one-liners with inexplicably excellent tits. Some assembly required. Spare, barely lived-in apartment sold separately.) 

What a clever and succinct way to paint us a picture of Leigh early doors and give us a chance to suss her out.

She wasted a lot of time reading the description for Basic Instinct (raunchy with Michael Douglas who did very little for her, but Sharon Stone, who did a lot)

A woman of taste.

THE ORCHIDS. My heart stopped. A very N Sewell thing to do, the modern day letter writing. 

It wasn’t trickery of a happy Friday night. It wasn’t memory made sweet by her girlish crush. 

Can i say this was my favourite line out of the whole story. I know youre not meant to pick favourites but like…………………………….what you did to me when I read this line, had me near-smacking my forehead to the table. I’m sorry, what? How? Where did you conjure this up from? I need to speak to it immediately as there are a few thoughts I’d like to ponder too. I’m taking you to court. For emotional distress. 

This allure of what a Friday night brings at the stretch of a long week, the way it paints everything shiny and bright. And then drawing this emotion without overly describing it ... I have reread this... so many times. And this is the line that has stuck with me for DAYS. How many Fridays have come and gone since you posted this? And I still think of it. You are too powerful.

SO-

Once more, something we saw in the Adam!AU, the lovely nods to canon. Friedman, Bobby, the friend visiting Nate (please say it’s A. No no maybe it’s F???), Nate’s past with the ocean. Beautiful. Just, spectacular and genius.

Huhuhuuuu and now let’s talk about the Nate Sewell and the way his RUNS HIS MOUTH. 

HOT. HOT! and the sentence that comes before the one below??? *loud jar clinking in the background*

She didn’t know if he was asking her or if he was telling her or maybe he was begging too...

Not to like... incriminate myself further because this smutty scene is everything, but I am so happy for Leigh. 

On screen, Alex Trebeck read out clues. A predictable, comfortable cadence that might have lulled her to sleep. A bright-eyed red-headed man thumbed the buzzer like it was trying to run away.

Hate you some more (affectionate)

Then pulled her feet in his lap while they watched Mulder and Scully view the footage of a sunken fighter plane, and discover mind-wiped people covered in black oil.  

idk what it’s like to lose!

The progression of their attraction is so...potent. The draw berween them is the heaviest thing on the screen, from the moment you introduce their repeated awareness in the video store week on week (genuine tummy flips even thinking about it again) to that split second you think Leigh is about to get in get car and not Get It Good... !!! WOW.

omg this is so long already, but I have so much I want to say about the emotional journey Leigh and Nate go through. The ability to bring in something from canon and make it your own? This fandom is truly not worthy, this has been... such a treat. And that we get to revisit the way Nate and Leigh fall in love again and again, make each other want to be better for themselves and each other...and just being sexy (omg the desk scene, THE DESK SCENE). 

Leigh’s gesture to take them on that trip was something that really tugged at my heart strings. To present Nate with the chance to reunite his love for marine life and all its beauty... while also opening up himself to love Leigh.

OH AND the aquarium scene that made ME want to cry (so beautifully described too).

That conclusion was so very, very satisfying because it says so much about how they’re not done here and it’s only the beginning. 

okay this is long and i will shut up now and go reread for the fourth time...woozy emoji face

Be Kind, Rewind (Nate Sewell x f!Detective)

Pairing: Nat Sewell x f!Detective Rating: E Word Count: 10.7k  Notes: The 90s!Nate au that no one asked for and whose origins are murky to me now. Something about Mulder from the X-Files being on my dash…and something about Nate wearing his glasses…and somehow that became NATE in the 90s and now here we are?? It is long, and it’s about two people finding their way with each other, I believe. For @brightpinkpeppercorn and @tuagonia, without whom this wouldn’t exist. Also posting during Hot In Wayhaven, Day #1: Foreplay. Shouts to the mods for a summer full of gorgeous content! (Pop over and read this on AO3, for self-indulgent endotes.)

____________________

I. October: oh when you walk by every night, talking sweet and looking fine

She saw him there on Fridays. 

His long arms stacked with five or six movies while he contemplated another, squinting down at the backs of the cases as though he wasn’t wearing glasses at all. She liked to watch him stoop (because he had so far to go), to search the shelves. Sometimes, he would lean and a swoop of hair would flop forward over his forehead. A combination of rakish and charming that made her heart beat fast. 

He saw her there on Fridays, too. 

Keep reading

#you are a genius and you're so ridiculously talented i feel like a kid who was told i was going to my fave amusement park #when this dropped #i had been so excited for 90s!Nate that.... it exceeded any and all expectations #(also im so sorry it took me so long to rb with comments but it DESERVES my full attention) #MAR- HOW DOES IT FEEL LIKE TO NEVER LOSE?! ALL WE DO IS WIN WIN WIN NO MATTER WHAT #top fave fics of all time <3 i said what i said #there's so much i'd like to say about PABLO NERUDO but this is already an essay and a half #nate sewell #nate sewell x detective #twc n #twc nate #fic recs #recs #fave #n*fw #nsft #*Neruda...the excitable typing is real

[tuagonia]

If you have a cat please reblog this with its name please and thank you

#Brie like the cheese #not twc #queue but said like Moira Rose

[tuagonia]

they saw you in my written words

Pairing: Nate Sewell x Surina Batra 

Rating: Explicit. 18+. Minors, please do no interact

Word Count: ~1.5k

Note: Wayhaven AU featuring Nate as a bookshop owner and Surina as a poet. For the @hotwayhavensummer 8/20 prompt worship + 8/21 prompt aftercare. 

Find here on ao3 for poetry credits in the end note (they are beautiful and not mine. Neither are these characters) 

____________

She should have gone home, to her desk at the window which overlooked the lake, but he dripped his words - like a lazy heartbeat, mimicking the pentameter in which she writes - onto the back of her hand, trickling to her wrist like warm honey. And when his eyes lifted from her pulse point, presenting with them an arched brow inquiry, she returned a heavy, lust-laden gaze. With the locking of the door behind them, every single obligation was set aside for the remainder of the afternoon.

And he’d left her a mess in his loft above his bookshop.

Keep reading

#WAIT HOLD ON MAR !!!!! SNEAKY SNEAKY I didn’t know you posted this ?!?!?! #OMG #rb now so I can read later I and LOSING it #it*

[tuagonia]

He can lie with her in the meadow forever. He can lie with her here, among the wildflowers she threads into his hair— knowing there can never be enough daylight to savour this moment. He can lie like this forever. He can lie with her forever.

The incredibly talented and all-around fantastic @losingface brought this scene I kept coming back to to life: Olivia and Adam and a field of wildflowers. If you ever get the chance to commission her - please, please do!!

#sr #queue but said like Moira Rose #I am so in love with this still #a du mortain x detective

[tuagonia]

He can lie with her in the meadow forever. He can lie with her here, among the wildflowers she threads into his hair— knowing there can never be enough daylight to savour this moment. He can lie like this forever. He can lie with her forever.

The incredibly talented and all-around fantastic @losingface brought this scene I kept coming back to to life: Olivia and Adam and a field of wildflowers. If you ever get the chance to commission her - please, please do!!

#the way i waited in the shadows until becky opened comms with this ONE idea that I wanted her specifically to work with me on #and it did NOT disappoint T_T!!! I stared and screamed and sobbed #also that line is from a fic which ... will never be finished lmao #god the flowers... i will never get over the grass and the COLOURS and their expressions #adam du mortain #a du mortain #adam x olivia: heavy in your arms #twc #the wayhaven chronicles #art #fave #recs #art commission #tysm again becky <3 #OH! Please click for better resolution!! #queue but said like moira rose

[tuagonia]

sunflower - mason x f!detective

pairing: mason x f!detective (mia garcia)

Summary: mason thinks about mia at the town’s florist.

rating: T

warning: i think there's like...one swear word.

word count: ~1.7k

note: lol ok since i flopped at getting mason x mia done for the hotwayhaven event.... i have been waiting to write this for a while and the amazing event organisers at @wayhavensummer finally gave me the excuse I was waiting for to fully indulge in this. thanks for hosting and putting in all the great work!! This is for Aug. 18 - Flowers.

--

They remind him of her.

Large and dangling free from her ears; brightly painted papier-mâché “monstrosities”.

That’s the word he’d used to describe them, making no effort to mask his distaste.

Instead, Mia smiled widely in response, reaching up to touch one at its faux-stalks. It stopped that distracting swing, back and forth with every slight movement of her head. Chuckling, and pride lifting her cheery tone, she told Mason she made them herself.

Lemony-yellow, mossy-green, the burnt-chestnut centre.

All crammed together outside of the tiny flower shop. Dozens upon dozens of them staring back at him; yellower under the blaze of the mid-August sun.

A makeshift sign stuffed among the mass of summer-ripe bouquets reads: “TOP QUALITY. Giant Sunnys £14 per bunch”.

Mason is just looking.

He tells himself there’s no harm in just looking.

And anyway, they’re hard to miss under the hot sun. It’s not his fault they’re in the way of his usual patrol route. Quite literally.

Bundles and bundles of large sunflowers, taking up the pavement. Usually, grey and cracked, now overrun with the sight of them. The florist’s quaint store looks like a child’s plaything next to the dramatic assortment.

He has to blink, thinking the sunshine and its heat has started playing tricks on him. It’s almost as if they multiply; little suns with their earthly centres, drawing him closer.

From the moment he rounded the corner to the main square, he never stood a chance against the brilliance of them.

Mason should have kept moving. He doesn’t have time for this— to stop mid-patrol, to idle in front of flowers.

But they remind him of her.

Not just of the — and his lip curls at the memory — weird handmade jewellery.

(A set for every occasion.

Cakes and candles for colleagues’ birthdays, candy canes for Christmas, glittery hearts the size of her fists for Valentine’s Day. Tiny pieces of reflective plastic shedding onto her delicate neck).

They remind him of the sunshiney smiles. The ones she so easily tosses his way, like they’re never any work, like they could never go to waste. Always patient, always bright, always...happy.

And as he glares down at them, he realises they don’t offend him. The observation renders him sceptical, partly convincing himself he’s stopped to figure out why he hasn’t felt repulsed at the overwhelming powdery aroma.

It’s not floral. No. Instead, it reminds him of...reminds him of… Mason racks his brain and frowns accusingly at the vivid flowers opened up at him.

Mason reaches for one, fingers wrapping around its surprisingly sturdy stalk.

He’s still just looking. He just— he just needs to get a closer whiff to figure this out.

Honey. That’s what it is.

Mason’s frown deepens at the realisation. His grip on the flower shifts, the skin of his palm uncomfortable against the fuzzy stem.

Bright and honey-sweet.

(There’s that memory of her kiss, soft and saccharine as powdered-sugar; should make his teeth hurt.)

The crown of gold petals distracts him, fills him with a warm something that he’s more desperate than annoyed to figure out. He can’t place it, can’t place it, can’t place it— wants to know it.

Maybe it’s the frustration of chasing after the unnamable thing that makes him forget the purpose of stopping, the reason why he plucked the flower to begin with.

...so distracted he doesn't hear when the round-cheeked vendor pops their head outside of the shop, all smiles that he feels nothing for (not her like smiles, though. Nothing like her smiles).

They mention the weather and ask if they can be of any help, but Mason’s attention slides back to the sunflower in his fist. But he shakes his head, unconvincingly but he’ll never know.

It’s the heat, he thinks. The arse-end of nowhere town at the tail-end of an unforgiving heatwave.

But just as he’s about to slot the stalk back into its bucket, the vendor stops him— shaking their head emphatically, their grin growing by the second. They sweep of their hands in a take it, take it, please motion, and send Mason off. They shoot him wink from overly-kind eyes.

Like they might be in on some big secret, and Mason will be the last in this entire godforsaken town to know.

There’s no harm in taking the flower, Mason insists, staring down into its dark-brown centre.

He’ll hold onto it until he can find the next rubbish bin, and in the mean time he’ll try not to think about how it reminds him of the dusting of dark freckles across her nose.

(He gets it now. He gets it when he’s with Mia.

He understands — finally — why everyone before her kissed his freckles like they wanted to taste the stars.

Her galaxies, his constellations. Every time they meet, Mason expects a seismic shift to take them asunder.)

His usual strides have shortened, his pace slower than normal, his senses overwhelmed by the true yellow of its petals.

For a moment, Mason forgets all about the patrol and just...walks.

It’s a quiet and lazy summer day. The sun (high and hot) urges residents to stay in the shade, seeks refuge in cool indoors. The streets are empty. Sleepy. So, he takes his time, the crease on his brow deepening with every side street he takes.

It’s hot inside his boots. That’s the only reason he’s leaning against her tin can of a car, outside of the station, holding this ostentatiously large flower.

A quick detour for some shade. That’s all it is. And when there’s a whisper of a breeze, rustling the leaves of the tree above him and the little crown of petals in his hand, it’s all the more cooler.

Mason can hear her colleagues moving in and out of the station, but pays them no mind as time moves on, still staring down at the flower in his grip. It’s far too large to twirl it with sturdy fingers, forcing him to keep studying it and wondering what exactly about it brings Mia to mind.

Lively, but not intense.

(Her laugh, he guesses. Loud and clear, broken up by giggles. The sound of it never jarring.)

A drop of sunlight, buried underground. Persists and blossoms through cracked earth.

(Her kindness, he ascertains. Not to be mistaken for weakness. As easy as she can dole-out radiant smiles, her sharp tongue can just as quickly follow.)

...like he’s been holding a piece of her this entire time.

The taut pull at his cheeks is foreign, and he lets the corners of his mouth drop.

Pointless because Mason hears a familiar drumming, a quick skip he’s grown used to over the last years.

He looks up just in time to watch Mia push through the station’s glass doors. At the top of the steps, she stops to survey the car park, and he feels a flutter in his chest when he realises those brown eyes are searching for him. He confirms it when her gaze lands on him and...that smile (the beating inside his chest is ten-fold) breaks out across her face.

She shields her face with a hand, squinting against the harsh glare of sun bouncing off windshields. With easy, unhurried steps she walks towards him and he drinks in the sight of her.

That scratchy yellow cardigan that’s become synonymous with Detective Garcia is nowhere to be seen. Probably thrown over the back of her office chair and forgotten, along with whatever work she’s been putting off all afternoon.

Dark curls scooped up and away from her neck, gives Mason a great view to the line of her throat and down her naked shoulders. A sage strappy shirt stretches down her small frame, trying its best to keep her cool in the heat...reminds him of the stalk in his hand.

He tenses.

Mia’s eyes flicker to the sunflower he’s holding and her smile (fuck, that smile will be the end of him) grows and grows.

All teeth (white, and...harmless with the dull edges) and she gives an airy chuckle.

“That for me?” she asks with one eyebrow lifting into a curly fringe.

Pushing off the car, Mason musters up his best grimace and fights back the fear fighting its way up his spine. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know why fear is the first thing that possesses him when she stands this close and gestures to the flower with a tilt of her head.

Before he can respond, before he can let his tongue and fear get the better of him— Mia makes for the sunflower in his grip.

Fear tells him this should be a mistake. This memory must be a mistake; one that he’s sure will be the only one to matter in a dizzying spiral of time: Mia smiling down at this sunflower.

The leaves rustle again, and sunlight filters through, dappling the deep brown of her hair.

She makes it easy, never has to wrestle with the feeling for too long before she distracts him. If it’s not a quip, it’ll be an expression that should not be equal parts funny or cute. Spears Mason somewhere deep, somewhere he doesn’t think he’s touched before— doesn’t know if it could ever be before her.

Mia speaks to the flower, a lone fingertip running over its petals. “It’s very pretty.”

Mason watches her stroke the large leaf at the stalk, leaning in nose-first to catch its scent at the centre, eyes fluttering shut. Dark lashes meet her cheeks, and he follows the line of her freckles (darker in the summertime).

He wants to take his time here too, with the same pace as he did those side streets (seeing parts of Wayhaven he would have never traversed without coaxing).

“Yeah…” his voice is rough and unused, studying as she looks up at the way the branches move above them. Sunlight casting down on her, and that easy smile fixed on her lips. “Very pretty.”

#not proof-read we die like men or w/e #wayhaven summer #rbs whs #twc mason #twc m #the wayhaven chronicles #twc #mason x mia: cigarette with my tea #queue but said like moira rose #tuagonia writes twc

[tuagonia]

Mulder + glasses in “Eve”

#mar i just wanna asked you first in the tags b4 I rb Be Kind Rewind: #How does it feel like to NEVER lose? Because all we do is WIN WIN WIN NO MATTE WHAT #90s!Nate Stannies RISE!!!!!!!!!!!!

[tuagonia]

Be Kind, Rewind (Nate Sewell x f!Detective)

Pairing: Nat Sewell x f!Detective Rating: E Word Count: 10.7k  Notes: The 90s!Nate au that no one asked for and whose origins are murky to me now. Something about Mulder from the X-Files being on my dash…and something about Nate wearing his glasses…and somehow that became NATE in the 90s and now here we are?? It is long, and it’s about two people finding their way with each other, I believe. For @brightpinkpeppercorn and @tuagonia, without whom this wouldn’t exist. Also posting during Hot In Wayhaven, Day #1: Foreplay. Shouts to the mods for a summer full of gorgeous content! (Pop over and read this on AO3, for self-indulgent endotes.)

____________________

I. October: oh when you walk by every night, talking sweet and looking fine

She saw him there on Fridays. 

His long arms stacked with five or six movies while he contemplated another, squinting down at the backs of the cases as though he wasn���t wearing glasses at all. She liked to watch him stoop (because he had so far to go), to search the shelves. Sometimes, he would lean and a swoop of hair would flop forward over his forehead. A combination of rakish and charming that made her heart beat fast. 

He saw her there on Fridays, too. 

Keep reading

#if anyone in the european side of the world heard and earth-shattering screech this morning it was me #it was me losing my fucking mind that this is out #i'm gonna rb now and then rb again with my thots because BEST BELIEVE I am going to give this a MEATY comment of the way aj is able to #ruin my sanity with just words from abroad.

[tuagonia]

.

#lol my mason x mia piece is NOT going to be ready for next week #we're just going to watch that ship sail by and wave!

[tuagonia]

Chapter Two of Body Count is now available to play on Dashingdon!

Choose who you’d like to couple with for the first night.

Play a lil party game. 

Share a bed with your new partner.

Say a friendly hello to the remaining cast members.

Find a body.

Word Count:  133,881 (+65k) | Average Playthrough: 23,889 (+7.6k)

Demo | Project Intro | Patreon | KoFi

Please make sure to check the updated trigger warnings before you play.

I haven’t broken the saves, but I have fiddled with the stats a bit, so you miiiight want want to play from the beginning to be sure that scenes trigger correctly.

Evergreen reminder that Body Count is an 18+ game!

If you have a save where you’re romancing the first victim… keep it. 

#sb #you guys are going to lose your minds...... #if: body count #if stuff

[tuagonia]

Less than 48 hours until you have to face the consequences of your actions… Are you ready?

If you want to avoid Chapter 2 talk, please block the #BC Spoilers tag (and please make sure you use it if you’re screaming into the void xoxo) 

#i am crazy excited to see everyone else's reactions!!!! #if stuff #if: body count

[tuagonia]

syd(ney) alexander ✨

its their birthday today! if you haven’t already, go read @bodycountgame

#VEEEE THIS!!!!!! #OMG. OH MY. GOODDDDDDDD #SYD PLEASE a moment of your day #this is so beautiful the colours are !!! #and the BC logo!!!!! #body count #if: body count #bc: syd

[tuagonia]

.

#gonna show my PotC loving ass but #commodore norrington grimes up well. yea. #not twc

[tuagonia]

Reblog and put in the tags your signature scent, signature lipstick, and/or signature accessory!

#London by Burberry #divine wine by maybelline or #colourpop lippie stix ellarie. Taurus in the autumn #in the summer Morocco by nyx #I guess my glasses? does that count?

[tuagonia]

reblog if you support unabashedly smutty fanfic

and the beautiful authors who give it to us.  you are a treasure. 

#YES. #😌 absolutamente #so much talent so many beautifully executed fics

[tuagonia]

masonsfangs -> losingface

hello i'm going back to my old url 🤸🏽‍♀️

#sb