illusionsofdreaming

[illusionsofdreaming]

birds without feet;

Notes: I return to the blog with this monster of a ficlet. This was actually written for @nin-deer who very graciously allowed me to share it on the blog as well. A small imagine that grew out of control haha... enjoy~ Ft: Beacrox

It was but a subtle shift of air that caused him to abandon his project. In an instant, he whipped around, knife in hand, its sharp blade poised just above the intruder's jugular, ready to cut deep with the slightest pressure.

Despite the threat of a blade at your neck, your smile was relaxed as you lifted the roll of parchment in your hand. “Delivery!”

His eyes quickly scanned the kitchen, noting the shifted curtains he pieced together your point of entrance. Only when you wiggled the paper impatiently did he finally drop the knife and swiped the parchment from your hand, ignoring your huff of laughter as he scanned over its contents.

“It’s nice to see you too Beacrox. How have you been?” 

Your attempts at casual banter were ignored, but the moment you began reaching for the food on the table, his gaze snapped to yours, promising pain should you attempt further.

You were wise enough to heed his warning as you stepped back, hands raised in surrender. “Sheesh, you’re not going to make any friends if you keep acting this way.”

Crumpling the piece of paper, he threw it into the fireplace as you clicked your tongue in mock annoyance.

Had he cared for your opinion, he might’ve been annoyed, alas it was easy to dismiss as he threw a pouch in your direction, the clink of gold muted as you caught it from the air. He watched as you tossed the bag a few times before pocketing it.

You must have caught the confusion on his face as you glanced up with a grin. “I know you won’t cheat me of my payment.”

Though it was the truth—Molan’s motto was always to repay what’s due—such blatant admission of trust from someone working in the dark underbelly of society puzzled him, and without meaning to, he’d let his displeasure slip through. “It could’ve been filled with rocks.”

You blinked, head tilted as if you’re considering the possibility, then you laughed. “Then I suppose I’ll be a few pretty rocks richer.”

He scowled and returned to his work, grabbing his knife to hide the flush of annoyance he felt by your flippant answer. You knew such responses would annoy him, and he refused to give you the satisfaction of being correct.

One does not survive long in the underworld with their morals and innocence intact. Your deliberate pushing of buttons was another tactic to wheedle information from your targets, and he wasn't inclined on revealing anything. You already know far too much as is.

“Leave,” he ordered, his limited patience well and truly spent. 

“Always a pleasure talking to you, Bea~”

He threw the knife in his hand, but by the time he turned around, you were already gone. The only evidence of your visit was the lingering echoes of your laughter and a missing tart from the plate of desserts he'd prepared earlier.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

As you kept the package just out of his reach, he couldn’t help but think: for a grown person jaded by the underworld, you sure liked acting like a child at times.

“You just thought of something rude didn’t you?”

His gaze snapped to yours. “You forget who you’re dealing with.” he warned coldly. The Molan household might have fallen from grace but just because he had traded his daggers for kitchen knives, they were no less lethal in his hands. Was it confidence or foolishness that made you dare to test his patience?

The silence in the kitchens was deafening as your eyes met across the counter. 

“I haven’t,” You said finally, “not once.” Your smile was wry and lacked its usual cheer but the heaviness in your tone bore the weight of many secrets, of someone who knew far more than what they’re letting on. He’s faced with an uncanny sense of unbelonging and emptiness that seemed eerily familiar. 

But with a blink of an eye, the mask that had slipped had righted itself. “I have a change of mind,” You sat on the edge of the counter island, tension and somber mood shaken off, replaced with an all too sunny smile. “I’d like another form of payment for the information I’m selling.”

He felt anger lick up his throat as his fist clenched above the table. “That was not part of our deal.”

“An amendment to the agreement then, if you will-”

“I refuse.”

Your peals of laughter filled the room, “You didn’t even let me finish!”

“I refuse.” He repeated sternly. Knowing your personality, it would be an amendment that would greatly irritate or inconvenience him. 

“I’d like you to cook a dish for me.” You continued, ignoring his words. 

There was a sharp snap as the corner of the table cracked under his hand as incredulity stole over his face. 

To begin with, payment for your services had never been cheap, each bag of gold was worth more than several months’ worth of food. If all you wanted was a decent meal, then you’ve already been charging enough to dine at any of Roan kingdom’s finest restaurants.

“It’s not a dish that can be found on any menu in the kingdom.” You tutted as if you knew the thoughts that were going through his head. “It’s not something that can be bought with gold.” 

You’re pulling his leg. “And why do you think I’d care to create a dish no one’s heard of?” Beacrox asked through gritted teeth.

“I know you don’t.” You laughed, lips slanted with a smile. “It’s something I’ve tasted a long time ago but have no idea how it’s made. I’ll describe what I remember and if you believe it’s impossible to recreate or not worth the hassle,” you shrugged in an exaggerated display of nonchalance, “then I’ll take the usual payment like nothing’s changed. It’s a good deal for you right?”

Nothing about this deal made sense. You’re essentially offering your services for free while he’d benefit regardless of whether he succeeds in recreating the dish or not. His expression was stiff as he crossed his arms.

You set the package down on the table gently and slid a piece of folded paper next to it. “Take your time to think about it.” You offered as you pulled your hood up. You left the kitchens as quietly as you’d arrived, leaving him to brood in the silence left behind.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Here.” he sets the completed project on the table with the reluctance of a person who would rather be anywhere else but in the kitchens at that very moment. He folded his arms, pinning his hands to his chest, resisting the urge to snatch the plate and throw it in the trash, calling off the deal.

Beacrox had no expectations of being able to recreate a dish he had never heard of. Yet, from the moment he set the plate down, you stiffened in place, your pleasant smile melting away, replaced by shock.

“Well?”, You flinched as he prompted impatiently. You pulled the dish closer, your smile weak and crooked. 

“I was just a bit surprised that’s all..” your voice trailed off.

He filed your reactions away in the back of his mind.

Your grip was uncertain but eventually you picked a piece from the plate and placed it in your mouth.

You froze in place, and he immediately slid a cup of water and bowl over. 

But you surprised him when you kept it in and swallowed. “It…” He watched as your face straightened slowly, all visible emotions ironed away into one of careful neutrality. 

“..tastes nothing like it.” 

When vague subjective descriptions on a slim piece of paper were all that he had to work with, he’d expected this outcome. The bag of gold he had prepared in advance was tossed onto the table as he reached to retrieve the dish, only to be deterred when sharp pain sprang across the back of his hand. The surprise he felt from the fact he’d failed to catch your movements was swiftly replaced by irritation when he realised you’d slapped him. 

His eyes narrowed, “What are you-“

“I’m taking it.” you said and to his utter confusion, went on to shove another bite in your mouth.

“You just said-“

“I know what I said.” you huffed, “I never said the dish had to taste right did I? It’s a good first try-“ His eyebrows lifted as you suddenly lost the ability to maintain eye contact with him. “Anyways, I’ll be the judge of what’s accepted and I say this passes.”

You've always been an eccentric character, but just when he thought you couldn't faze him further, you managed to render him speechless yet again. Till now, he’s yet to figure out your intention behind your request, if taste was not a priority then what use was creating the dish you’re looking for? 

“Get out of my kitchen.”

“But I haven’t-“

“Out.”

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

Of all the informants in the kingdom, none possessed skills that could surpass yours. It was why, despite the many headaches you induced, Beacrox had chosen to suffer your pestering for so long.

Not one of his sources has ever confirmed how you acquire your information or seen you in action. Yet the intelligence you provide, which has, at many times, sounded unbelievable, had been proven to be true time and time again. 

Perhaps the strangest thing of all was that, despite the ease with which you uncover others' secrets, the same couldn’t be said vice versa. Little to no information could be found regarding your background, whatever was found was obviously doctored, being far too mundane for someone of your skills. You were either incredibly thorough at covering your tracks or an experienced fraudster, and Beacrox was inclined on believing the latter.  

Your unpredictable behaviour made it hard to judge whether you’re an ally or foe, so it was only natural that he’d sought for leverage to hold against you in case there’ll be a day you’d decide to betray them and sell their secrets to their enemies. 

That was the only reason he would consider playing along with your games.

Though he knew not the significance of these dishes to you, he had hoped they would provide some insight on your background or places you’ve been to where other sources have failed to narrow down. 

But of course even the meals you’d request would be harder if not just as difficult to trace as well.

It was only a matter of time before you caught onto his intentions, after all, he’d never kept his investigations a secret. Yet instead of pulling back like he’d expected, you had become bolder in your requests, eyes sparkling with mischief as if you understood the frustration he was going through and still remain one infuriating step ahead of him at all times. 

He’d considered the possibility that you could be pulling his leg, but there was something about the nostalgia in your eyes as you taste each dish that made Beacrox believe in their authenticity. 

He glanced at a small box hidden by the side, within held a small but steadily growing pile of recipes of unknown origins. Not for the first time, Beacrox found himself questioning if all these peaceful days have turned him soft after all.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

A familiar, unwelcome figure was sitting in his fresh crate of produce.

A quick scan around the area confirmed that you were alone and he walked over to assess your state. A splatter trail led up to the crate you sat on and his brows furrowed in distaste. The darkness made it difficult to immediately see any obvious signs of injuries and when you made no reaction to his presence, he kicked the crate below you.

“Ow.” you stirred, complaining with a soft laugh. 

Conscious. 

“Why are you here?”

Your unannounced visit broke one of many unspoken rules governing their kind. As people maintaining a delicate facade, unexpected visits were not merely discouraged but deemed perilous. No one would fault him should he choose to silence you then and there - such was the severity of your faux pas - yet he stood, only mildly irritated, at the disruption you’ve brought to a peaceful night.

It took a moment longer than he liked before you gathered enough strength to speak. “Sorry,” you apologised and for once, actually sounding it. “I just need a little rest. I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

Your laboured breathing and unfocused gaze suggested otherwise and he folded his arms as the dreadful feeling of his plans for an early night slipped through his fingers like fine sand. 

“How bad is it?” 

Impatiently he waited for you to process his words, your sluggishness a strange contrast to your usually sharp wit and quick retorts. 

“It’s been treated.” 

The smell of blood was sharp and acrid, he would have to clean the stains soon if he wished to avoid its scent lingering in the area. “I will not ask again.” He warned.

You were exhausted, it could be seen from your posture and expression. Though he understood the instinct to hide one’s weakness, from the moment you chose to rest here it wasn’t a matter of ‘if’ the truth comes out but a matter of ‘when’ and Beacrox would preferred if it happened sooner rather than later.

Just as he was contemplating the benefits of leaving you to your fate, your lips loosened. “Stab wound on the left, missed vitals. I’ve been tended to but some of the stitches might have opened up.”

That would explain the bloody trail you left. He should count his blessings that it didn’t sound too bothersome, assuming you hadn't foolishly downplayed the severity of your injuries. Your arms came up defensively as he began moving towards you, eyes widening with surprise, “Wait-“

His arms slipped under and around and with barely a grunt of effort, he lifted you up. The sudden motion drew a muffled groan from you and he allowed you a brief moment to collect yourself before he began moving. From this position, he could acutely feel the heat radiating from your skin and the tremors that wracked your body. 

Your confusion and trepidation were clear and it was with some hesitation before you decided to open your mouth-

“Save your breath.” He advised and you obediently swallowed your words.

He moved you into the storage shed behind the kitchen. Though dark, he navigated through the small space easily, setting you on the surface of several boxes, he stepped back to note that you’ve lost consciousness. The walk hadn’t been far but you must have exhausted your reserves traveling here.

From the darkness he brought out a small knife and paused, looking at your face, sweat slicked yet slack from tension, having found an escape from the worries troubling you - however temporary. He recognised that this moment might be a rare opportunity to unveil the secrets you hide, yet as quick as the notion flitted through his mind, it was dismissed just as quickly. With methodical precision, he cut open the side of your shirt where red had stained through.

The wound was as you’d described, if not a bit irritated and swollen. Basic first aid had been applied, though the messy stitch work left much to be desired, it did its job in holding your injury closed. A few stitches had come loose and will need to be reworked but nothing that he’s not capable of handling even with his limited medical knowledge.

As his gaze roamed to your face checking, yes, you were still unconscious, he left and returned moments later with a candle, clean water, cloth and a clean shirt. 

A dusty shed and mere candlelight were far from an ideal setting to perform any kind of wound care, but he doubted you’d care at this point. Pristine, white gloves snapped on, he made short work of cleaning, restitching and bandaging your wound. 

He was about to tilt a bottle of potion into your lips when you mumbled. He paused, waiting to see if you were regaining consciousness. You mumbled again and he frowned. It took him few moments before he realised two things: you weren’t waking up anytime soon and the words you’re mumbling, weren’t in a language from Roan or even any of the neighbouring kingdoms. 

As a master assassin, he had learned many languages, so the fact that you spoke one that he couldn’t place piqued his interest. He watched your lips, intent on studying and memorising the unique intonations and pitch, however, it seems your instincts finally kicked in, and though still unconscious, you’d stopped mumbling. 

Even out cold, you’d find a way to be bothersome. There was nothing more he could do, he left the folded, clean shirt he brought along by your side and with one final glance at your still form, he closed the doors behind him and locked it.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

He returned the next morning to a broken lock and an empty shed. In place of where you’re supposed to be was instead a piece of paper and a bag of coins. 

“Thanks for last night. Sorry about your spuds, I’ve replaced them for you :)”

A glance to the side confirmed the presence of a fresh crate of potatoes and a slip of paper containing the description of a dish never heard of before in the kingdom.

And for the first time ever, a name to go alongside the unfamiliar dish.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

You never mentioned what happened that night and he didn’t pry. Still, something seemed to have shifted between the two of you.

He no longer chases you away the moment you appear, while you've learned to place yourself to avoiding getting in the way of his cooking. He pretends not to notice when you arrive with injuries and you feign surprise at finding mysterious salves appearing nearby. 

“Aw, did you miss my company?” you teased when you caught his gaze assessing you after dropping by from one of your longer absences.

Beacrox made no attempt to conceal the dry scowl on his face. “Like one misses a rat infestation.”

“Charming~” you beamed.

Some things, still don’t change no matter what. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

In the end, it was the one question he couldn’t figure out. 

“Why me?”

The dishes you've shared are simple, you could've hired any other chef, given the same descriptions and they would’ve achieved similar results. But you chose to badger him, an unknown chef working for a humble count's family instead.

You paused in your devouring of yet another strange dish, blinking as if surprised that he would be the first to initiate conversation.

“Why Bea! You should have more confidence in yourself, you’re one of the best chefs in Roan!”

It was as obvious a deflection as he ever saw. His fingers tightened around his arms and he took a slow breath. So you’re going to be stubborn. Well, two can play that game. He tried another angle. 

The words tasted foreign on his tongue, but they were something that turned over and over in his mind since that night. He’d probably horribly butchered the pronunciation but it seemed the meaning was successfully relayed from the way your eyes widened and your pupils shook with recognition. 

The utensil held in your hand clattered to the table and Beacrox kept his eyes trained on you, taking in your paling face. When it didn't seem like you would offer an explanation, he continued.

“It’s what you kept repeating that night.“

A myriad of emotions crossed your face: shock, confusion, fear, and finally, resignation. 

In the silence, you slowly repeated those same words. Sharp, crisp and wholly foreign. 

"“Home,” your voice was soft, but it was the loudest thing in the kitchen. “‘I want to go home.’” you swallowed thickly, a wavering smile on your face. “that’s probably what I said.”

There was a lot to unpack from that revelation. 

He was suddenly reminded of how you’d react to the dishes each time, savouring each one, scouring the plates clean despite the differences in tastes. You ate not to fulfil the hunger of the body but to satisfy a craving of the mind. After receiving the recipe with a foreign name, it had confirmed one suspicion of his, that wherever these dishes came from, whether it was a place or a person that you're reminiscing about, they're likely no longer accessible.

You're reliving memories through dishes you barely remember. Chasing ghosts in your memories in search of some semblance of normalcy. 

Trust was a limited and rare currency in the underworld, hoarded jealously and coveted by many. You’d handed him the leash he’d sought since he agreed to your little game yet he felt gutted by the weight of the revelation, his shoulders burdened.

“Why me?” He repeated softly.

You watched him. “I don’t know.” Your voice sounded small and so tired. “I thought maybe, if it’s anyone, you’d probably understand.”

What does the concept of home and person mean when they no longer exist? Who are they but displaced people playing roles too big or small to hold their histories? Bearing memories of a place and person, but unable to find an equivalent?

It was a mistake. He shouldn’t have asked.

“But I wasn’t lying you know?” you added suddenly and he looked up in confusion, the smile you wore was weaker than usual but it was genuine. 

“You are one of the best chefs in all of Roan.” You declared in that same, familiar confidence which you use to share all those impossible, far-fetched sounding intel that always, turns out to be fact. 

For some inexplicable reason, it was that simple statement that dispersed the tempest building within.

Beacrox sighed, ran his hand through his hair, and exhaled through his nose.

And perhaps, there was a small, exasperated chuckle.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Bea please marry me.”

It wasn't often, but on rare occasions, he would nail the taste of a dish right.

He didn’t bother with a response but moved to refill your plate nonetheless.

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━

“Thank you.”

He paused while wiping the dishes. “For what?”

“Just,” Your gaze dropped to the plate before you as your fork tapped lightly against the edge. “Thank you for the food.”

Beacrox watched as you returned to eating, mind filled with memories of all the dishes he's made, of greatswords and bladed edges, and thought of what home and belonging is. 

We’re not so different. The idea of it wasn't as horrifying as he had thought. Once, perhaps he would’ve been unnerved by the sentimentality. There are still so many things that remain a secret when it comes to you, and yet, as you close your eyes to savor each bite, he feels as if he knows you better than most.

You ate in comfortable silence. He rolled his shoulders and allowed the tension in them to drop off. 

This might not be ‘home’ but for now, this moment was as good a resting place as any for people like them.

“You’re welcome.” he said softly. 

━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━━✶━━ ⋅𖥔⋅ ━ 

BONUS:

Once again, it begins with a ridiculous request from you.

“Bea please, you have to prepare this for Choi Han. I’ll even sell you my kidneys, I really need to know his reaction.” 

What value would owning your kidneys have? That you’d blatantly suggest such things to an assassin like himself was laughable, stranger still was his playing the fool and following along anyways.

He didn't question how you knew about their mansion's new guest, though your sudden interest in the visitor when you’ve shown no such interest in past guests was worthy of note. Even he had unconsciously tensed when the young master had introduced him. Something about the newcomer didn’t seem right. They were strong, but their potential was untapped and raw, like an uncontrollable beast on the verge of lashing out at any moment.

The glimmer of something in your eyes further confirmed his suspicions. You knew something about this stranger though you refused to reveal more, only promising that he’s not a threat to him or Ron. 

He frowned at the pot of red he’s stirring, the pungent smell wafting through the room. Footsteps from the doorway had him looking up, but the person that crossed the threshold was not the person he’d expected. 

The young master stepped in with a cautious look in his eyes. 

“I thought I smelled..” brown eyes narrowed at the pot he held. “What’s that?”

Beacrox glanced down at the strange dish he was asked to prepare, wondering why of all people that could’ve come, it would be Cale Henituse. 

“A dish a friend taught me to make.” Then for some reason unbeknownst to him, he offered. “Would the young master like to try?”

Cale hesitated, but eventually slid himself onto a seat, choosing the one farthest away from him. At least the young master seemed sober. Beacrox felt no fondness for the young master he served, even if it was true that he had begun to change recently, raising even the interest of Ron. 

Spooning a small portion, he set the dish and utensils down before Cale, ignoring the young man’s flinch as he gauged Cale’s strange expressions. 

The young master stared at the dish as if it would leap up and attack him, his strange wariness reminded Beacrox of your reaction when he first presented that first unfamiliar dish to you. 

“.. there’s no way..” Cale muttered to himself as he poked and prodded until finally, he tried a bite. 

“What.. the hell?”

Beacrox had never seen the young master's eyes bug out like that, and he decided it was quite an entertaining sight, even if the dish’s original target wasn’t meant for the redhead. Still he stifled an irritated sigh as a thought crossed his mind when the young master exclaimed.

“How the hell did you learn to make kimchi?!”

“What the hell did you make me do this time _______?”

Notes: I've had lots of thoughts while writing this imagine turned fic. Nin-deer gave me a simple prompt of "cooking" and I went and turned it into lore- OTL even I don't understand the intricate workings of my brain. I've had to cut out some chapters details as it was growing out of hand so I hope everything's links together properly. I've reached that stage where I've reread a piece of writing so many times, nothing makes sense anymore. I've deliberately left the dishes 'cooked' vague so you're free to imagine whatever cuisine you'd like that Beacrox helped butcher 👍🏼

#TCF #TRASH OF THE COUNT'S FAMILY #IMAGINES #TCF X READER #Beacrox Molan #platonic #pre relationship #multiple identities #after a long hiatus #smacksdown with 4000 worded thesis #believe me when I said this monster got out of control #it was actually longer #i had to cut many parts out to prevent it from turning into a multichaptered fic #this au got out of hand #the lore I had planned... #i would love to see if I'll return to this AU #perhaps post the rest of the 'deleted' moments #would love to hear about everyone's theories on this ficlet

[illusionsofdreaming]

Hi!! Nonny from earlier!! I actually didn't mean writing or anything TT I was just wondering where you've been cause U haven't posted even any blog posts for a long while T0T but I get that writing is difficult huhu I can't exactly understand since I'm not a writer but I genuinely hope things become better for you soon!!

Nonny it's okay! In fact I'm quite grateful for the inbox, I'd like to think of it as great restarting boot for the blog as well.

When it comes to maintaining a blog, I'm not much of a reblogger I'm afraid. So unless I've written anything or get inbox, I don't usually have anything to post - hence the great drought.

I can promise one thing, if there comes a day I decide to stop writing, I won't delete this blog. It'll serve as a graveyard, archive of my old works if anything - even if there aren't new works, people are still free to access the old fics.

Thanks for thinking of this dusty old blog now and then.

#chatter #In fact #I must say thank you #as i've finally started writing again #albeit squeezing words out still feels like I'm regurgitating sand and rocks #but it's progress from 0 words #still can't promise anything but I'm working towards it I hope #I've thought of entertaining new stories for my current hyperfixations #then realise that's probably not a good idea #that being said #i've been through cases where favorite writers stop writing and that's fine but when they delete everything they ever wrote #the devastation i felt afterwards #its their right and I respect their choices #i just felt sorry for myself that i didn't enjoy their works more when they still existed #anyways long detour #that's why i've decided i will never delete what's already posted #even if i stop writing or hate my works #someone might feel sad #maybe

[illusionsofdreaming]

Mate, I still hope for your Fire Emblem writing lol

Mate... you've suffered. May I ask which era of FE you're from- Are you waiting for a request response? Do I owe you anything? Oh my god. It's been a while, thanks for hanging on for so long-

#chatter #f-fire emblem? #oh jesus I didn't think I'd still have FE followers #was it the Saizo era? #fates era? #Heroes Era? #Awakening era? #surely not three houses.. #who are you looking for nonny #maybe I should try revisiting my FE era

[illusionsofdreaming]

To this day I hope you post again 🙏

it's always tough receiving messages like these, since as a reader myself, I know the feeling of patiently waiting for a writer to post - be it meals or crumbs.

yet to be honest, I have no idea what to post anymore. I feel completely rusted in writing - I have the feeling of wanting to post but I can't seem to stop hating everything I write.

It's also been so long since I've read TCF, I'm not sure anything I write now will be relevant. My only comfort is that TCF's community has grown so much since I first started writing, nowadays you'll find plenty of better content out there haha

I, too, hope I post again in the future. I love reading and though I often go through an intense cycle of hatred for my own works, I always come back to writing.

So I do hope I do write and I wonder what I should write nowadays? Do people still read reader inserts?

More TCF?

New series...?

Anyways, I hope everyone who's still haunting this blog, a very, very nice weekend~

#chatter #it's been so long I've forgotten my own tags #nonny whoever you are I've failed you #failed everyone following actually #oh gosh #it sounds quite depressing but im just reflecting #perhaps I should start posting again? something small? #it took me days to respond to this message because I don't know what to say except i'm a bad writer ;m; #I hope everyone's doing well though #if you've got some new stories to share I'm all ears #I'd love to know who are the best sellers in TCF writing nowadays haha #perhaps I can be inspired by them #or.. maybe i should focus on my wips first ouch

[illusionsofdreaming]

[it's been so long... anyways, I finally started reading manhwa again 〒▽〒. i never had time before or i was burnt out but as soon as i finished reading around 45 chapters of i'm not that kind of talent i remembered my favourite manhwa blog~! it's been so long. what are u up to ???]

oh my, familiar faces dropping by to say Hi just warms my heart ;w; and I see burnout is being felt by many ;o;

Thanks for stopping by, I hope you all are enjoying your hobbies! I've realised the little moments I get to indulge in them are indeed very precious.

#chatter #burnout is real #but alas life moves on #hope you all are doing very well #thanks for dropping by

[illusionsofdreaming]

I just want to express my sincere gratitude and appreciation to all your drabbles, headcanons, and posts of TCF

I found your fics on ao3 and they were literally my only lifeline for really blessed and god-tier TCF x Readers

And when I visited your blog (literally just this morning, I binged you TCF masterlist) it was just a gift that kept on giving

On behalf of all TCF fans that are desperate for TCF x Readers, thank you so much for your generous posts, you have no idea how much your posts make me happy :'D

Thank you for the great feast (^v^)/~*

Oh- wow! Thank you for your sweet message ;u;! It honestly made my day! I'm glad you enjoyed my writing and thank you so very much for leaving behind such heartwarming message (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#chatter #hello it's been a while #no excuses other than burnout #but tcf has an influx of x Reader writers so that's great news #i wish i could provide more updates but i just can't find the motivation to write #thanks to everyone who still drop by this dusty blog though #and leave sweet messages #thank you

[illusionsofdreaming]

hey, it's owhda. how have you been? it's a little bit sad to see no updates on tumblr from you(I mean any, even just a talk) but that just mean there's something else going on in your life and I sincerely hope it's something good. I didn't really know you much but I really thought that you could be a good friend to have. So.. could we get a glimpse into your life? How's your work? What are you interested in right now?

Hello, hello! It's so nice to see some familiar faces still hanging around this dusty blog! I've missed interacting with you both and Tumblr in general, it's very humbling to know people are reminded of me from time to time. I guess now is as good a time as any to post a little update on what's been going on in my life, how that's affected my writing and what I've got planned for the blog in the coming future. For those who wish to skip the chatter, tldr; I'm hanging on, this will blog will remain online and I do have plans to continue writing.

Let’s see… where do I even begin? Shortly after May, I’ve received an exciting notice - I was promoted! It’s a goal I’ve been working on for some time so it was quite satisfying to hear the news. Since then it’s been a whirlwind of activities - trying to juggle my new responsibilities and manage my own team took some time getting used to. I’ve worked solo for so long it was difficult to be the ‘leader’. In fact - I still am uncomfortable being one, but I’m starting to get the grasp of it.

I’ve been traveling for work as well and in these few months have been to Japan and UK. Both trips where I fell severely ill because my weak body can’t cross countries without making complaints and making me feel my age. Oh. And I finally got Covid in November which really laid me low for at least 2 weeks. 

I realise my health’s been taking a hit lately. Perhaps its the stress of having more work on my plate and being in a new position but I’ve been getting sick more easily. I’m currently recovering from a throat infection that I got from my UK trip as I write this - so fun times.

So yeah.. it’s been a lot of paperwork, electronic work, a lot of self reflection and remoulding of myself to my real life that really put writing on the back burner. I always wrote at night after work but nowadays I don’t even have the energy for that. If I’m not dead asleep by the time I’m done with work then some infection, flu or cold will get me. 

…and the longer I don’t touch my writing the less I wish to open my WIPs because I have a silly, irrational fear that I no longer write the same way I use to - either I’ve deteriorated or my style’s changed. It’s silly. 

Good news is that, I think I’ve finally found my pace, my new position is no longer ‘new’ but the norm and I’m slowly finding ways to carve out my own personal time in my new schedule. Which is why I’ve decided to tackle this issue today. To be honest, it’s been a while since I wrote anything fictional, but I’m planning on slowly working through the writing blocks that have built up due to my neglect. I’ve bought 2 new books during my trip in UK so that’s a step in the right direction right?

As some of my older followers would know and recognise by now, I do tend to go through highs and lows when it comes to activity on this blog. It often reflects what’s going on in my personal life haha. But lately, the creative bug that has been out of energy seemed to have been slightly rejuvenated - my habits of hyperfixating on creative mediums is rearing its head again so I know it’ll only be a matter of time before I’m itching to write again. 

About what..? TCF is still on my mind but not as much as before since it’s been some time since I last read its chapters. Lately I’ve been reading Absolute Sword Sense and am keeping up with its chapters so far. I’ve yet to get the newest Fire Emblem game and have been doing great avoiding any and all spoilers so far - but I’m pretty sure it’ll be going on my list of series I’ll write for in the future.

My health issues are to be tackled another day because I’m frankly, quite tired of taking meds. 

As for where I wish to take the blog… hmm.. that’s really a tough decision because I’ve never really had a clear goal in mind when it comes to this blog. It was just a great space to share my thoughts on fandoms and interact with likeminded people. I don’t think I’ll be opening requests for a while since I’ve got a huge backlog of WIPs to work on. I suppose I could attempt to keep the blog less.. dead? Not sure how I’ll go about it though.

Anyways.. that’s about it. Terribly sorry for the word vomit, I hope everyone's been doing well and enjoying your life! If it seems I'm a bit dead without updates, it's usually because there aren't any chatter related inboxes haha. So is this illu's call for random stories to be dropped in their mail? Yes.

#chatter #owhda #ineshapanda #mikachuchu #updates #life #blog stuff #illu is doing great #hope everyone is as well #thanks for checking up on lil me ;w; #made me feels #lots #-cries-

[illusionsofdreaming]

I know the fic is like 2 years ago (damn that’s long) and i beg. May i request a pov of cale in the next life? It would add more salt to the wound reading his pov TvT

Oh wow, has it been 2 years already? I didn't expect people to still remember that piece haha

I do have a sequel planned for it actually which is also written in Cale's perspective, but it won't be a retelling of that scene but of something else... 👀

#chatter #to be honest the next life was written to be a 2 part story #but after finishing the first part i realised it could be read standalone as well #so part 2 has been sitting in my drafts for years #since i never felt a need to force part 2 to life if it's not needed #except i didn't expect people to want to read more #i guess i'll dust it off and finalise it if people really want to see it? #i don't know i'm being battered by work so it's difficult to write nowadays #i hope you all are having a great 2023 nonetheless

[illusionsofdreaming]

falling hard, falling soft;

Notes: For this one I’ll leave my personal notes at the bottom. Please take note of the trigger warning.

Ft: Cale

tw: anxiety attack

As it sometimes does, it came without warning. You weren’t even sure what triggered it. Only that you were reading documents one moment and the next you felt were chills running down your spine. 

Shit. You set down the papers by the side as you pushed your chair away from the table. Why? You clasped your hands together even as your breathing began picking up. You’ve had only a moment’s time to feel annoyance against the inconvenience of it all before the building fear washed over all sensible thought and clutched its invisible hands around your throat.

Breathe. A mantra you chanted to yourself even as your airway seemed to close on itself. I’m just imagining it. You’ve been through this before and you understood it’s just panic clouding your thoughts. You’re not actually suffocating but- it was getting really hard to breathe. Cold sweat broke out over your skin as you trembled in your seat.

Stop, stop. Feelings of dread rose over you like waves crashing against the shore, over and over again and you could feel yourself tipping, so close- barely held back by your last slips of rational thought. You were shaking so hard in your seat, you’re surprised you haven’t fallen over.  

I can’t breathe- but why? Something so basic, so normal- you’ve been doing so well until now- so how could you have forgotten how to breathe? A hysterical laugh burst from your lips and your lungs seemed to constrict into itself. 

Somewhere at the back of your mind you realised you should call for help. The attack came too suddenly, too violently and wasn’t something you could handle by yourself. They wouldn’t judge and they knew about your condition but somehow, letting them see you now, like this, struggling to do something as simple as breathing, was suddenly the worst possible thing that could happen. 

You gasped, reeling on the threads of oxygen you could barely get past your closed airway. Your knees hit the ground as you shook, and shook, and shook.

You’re being irrational. A voice chides at the back of your mind, a part that’s detached from you writhing on the ground. You’re being dramatic. The guilt and shame was an iron grip around your chest slowly crushing you and that’s when you heard the door to your room open.

“__________, have you seen the papers-“

And then Cale’s there, hands on your shoulders as he propped you up, concern on his face as he held you, drawing you back from your downward spiral momentarily. I’m alright, I’m fine, you wanted to tell him but your ability to string words together had been the first to slip from you as shame took the front wheels of your thoughts. It was hard to decide whether you wanted his help or to kick him out for witnessing the ugliness of your vulnerability. Why did he have to come in now when all you could manage was gasp for how little air there was, and why can’t you just breathe-

“__________,” his brows creased as he grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart. “Listen. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

I can’t! You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, cry or scream at the absurdity of the situation. Can’t he see that’s what you’re trying to do?

His grip tightened around your wrist, the painful pressure focusing your attention briefly. “You can breathe, you’re hyperventilating now. You need to slow down. Follow me.”

Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes in frustration but with enormous effort, you began to fight for your breath, following Cale’s firm instructions as he guided you, breath by each agonising breath. Slowly, painfully, you fought to control your breathing, with every inhale that doesn’t end with a hitch, you began to regain lucidity and the grip around your throat began to loosen. Throughout the whole process, Cale stayed with you, never breaking his gaze from you and keeping a firm pressure against your hand.

As the adrenalin receded, the overwhelming exhaustion that inevitably came after every attack crashed over you and you would’ve fallen on your side had Cale not caught you. The worst of the attack was over and you let out a shuddering sigh as you slumped against his side. He pulled you closer and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder, rubbing your shoulders as the remaining tremors in you died down.

“What caused it?” he asked after a while. 

The aftermath of an attack always left you feeling boneless and liquefied. You glanced down at your fingers, the feeling of pins and needles running up and down your arms made you feel weightless and detached from reality. Something at the back of your mind warned you that it’s not over, that it’ll come back and you won’t be able to hold it back this time-

Cale’s grip tightened around you and you snapped out of the dangerous spiral, this time catching yourself before you could work yourself up again. 

You closed your eyes and focused on Cale’s slow breathing beside you, anchoring yourself to his stabilising presence. Now that you’ve calmed down once, it was easier for you to recognise and compartmentalise the smaller panic attacks.

“I don’t know.” you rasped sluggishly, throat sore from choking hard on nothing. 

That was just how it was, you could register and recognise all the symptoms of an oncoming attack but no amount of preparation or knowledge could guarantee you would be able to stave it off every time. If there was logic to it, you supposed it wouldn’t be called a disorder. 

He nods and asked no further questions and you sit in companionable silence together until your head started drooping and you shivered from the chill that slowly crept up on you. 

“Can you make it to the bed?” he asked softly as he squeezed your shoulders, gently massaging the stiff muscles.

You contemplated your physical condition, the exhaustion that weighed down your bones and shook your head lightly. Without hesitation, his strong arms came beneath your knees and behind your back as he picked you up from the ground, holding you close to his body so you could take advantage of his body heat.

Such a big attack doesn’t happen often, but when it does it always left you out of it for the rest of the day. It sucked and you could feel the apology weighing on the tip of your tongue but you leashed the demon back, knowing deep down, even if it doesn’t feel like it, that it’s not yours nor anyone’s fault.

“Thank you.” you said, despite what your demons wished and counted it as a small victory. He glanced down at you and sets you down on your bed before wrapping your blanket around you. 

He sits on the bed and met your eyes. “You did great.” 

A comment which made you chuckle lightly despite everything. 

“Do you need anything?” 

You tugged the blankets closer to your form, huddling in the warmth as the question turned in your mind. “I don’t know.” you swallowed thickly, looking down at your knees in shame. You’re just tired and aching, mentally and physically, it was hard to tell what could or couldn’t make you feel better at this moment.

“That’s okay.” His brown eyes were clear. “Is it alright if I stay here by your side?”

There was no expectations from him and you knew that at any time if you wanted time alone, he would immediately get up to give you space. You thought back to how he’d helped you calm down, how being taken care of this way didn’t feel so burdensome for once. Maybe you didn’t want company on most bad days but there can also be days where another’s companionship was enough. So as you gave your permission with a small nod, he seated himself next to you, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out his legs beside you. 

You sit beside each other like this, each lost in your own thoughts, as you slowly felt your heartrate slow to a lethargic thud. At the back of your mind you knew you’ll have to unpack what happened today later. You should run through what had happened before the attack and hopefully figure out what triggered you, but for now, with his presence by your side, you allowed his soft rhythmic breathing to lull you to rest.

It’s okay.

Notes: This was written based on personal experience- though I have never been formally diagnosed, nor looked into it, honestly I’m not sure I can claim if what this piece was based on could be called anxiety/panic attack - so if there are misrepresentation, or discomfort due to this, please accept my apology here, as I wish not to offend anyone.

This piece came from a rather... interesting place. Since I’ve never looked too closely into why I feel this way when it happens, I’m not sure if people with anxiety goes through the same thing. What I do know is that the first time it happened to me it completely blindsided me, unfortunately I do not have a Cale by my side so let’s just say it was a struggle to handle things out on my own. 

Ahem, not to bring the mood down here I just wanted to do an exploratory piece. Something more serious and slightly more gnarly. and here we are

On a completely irrelevant note, as I was trying to figure out what to title this piece, my brain for some reason came up with the brilliant idea to call it “asparagus” for some reason. Evidently, I did not listen to it. But it keeps looping in my head. So alt. title would be asparagus. I suppose..?

#tw: anxiety attack #tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #anxiety attack #panic attack #stress #comfort #i guess it's true what they say #that strong emotions really are a great source of motivation/inspiration for creatives #i was stuck on the toughest writers block on this once piece for months #but i wrote this one in half a day #funky moods amirite?

[illusionsofdreaming]

Gentle writing advice indeed.

#chatter #reblogs #jbthegift #I’ve been doing that a lot these days #just sitting and coming up with ideas but never getting the motivation to put them to words #not even notes #it’s a tv series up in my head #but maybe because the ideas are so grand I don’t feel like I can write them the way they deserve #out of my league #and I’m just tired every day after work #I’m in a slump but I’m hanging there #I needed to see this #and I hope anyone out there struggling with their words as well #finds some comfort in it as well #writers advice #writing tips

[illusionsofdreaming]

It’s back to normal now thank you.

Is this new Tumblr icon a permanent redesign or just an event thing because I get distracted every time I receive a notification thinking it’s some newsflash or urgent message-

-And gods is the icon tacky

#chatter #still didn’t figure out why the icon changed in the first place #i shall not make excuses for my absence #it’s wholly my fault and I hope to find my muse sooner rather than later #nonetheless I’m quite sorry

[illusionsofdreaming]

Is this new Tumblr icon a permanent redesign or just an event thing because I get distracted every time I receive a notification thinking it’s some newsflash or urgent message-

-And gods is the icon tacky

#chatter #might delete later #but the amount of times I thought I was receiving a warning for something because of the jarring colors #they really did a 180 on the color palatte #it blinds me #please let me choose the dark side

[illusionsofdreaming]

Σ(°ロ°) I- I’m speechless (つω`｡) thank you for thinking of little ol’ me ♡ all writers deserve a good pat on the back and nice cup of tea for all the good, honest work they’ve done!

@the-darklings @calehenituse-brainrot @tocalehenitusethatmf @nin-deer @byeol-ssi​ ... and everyone who writes tbh ♡

It's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! So go on, appreciate the fuck out of those who generously share their ideas and talents with us. Today and every day after.

#chatter #i'm so sorry if Ive missed out on some #i haven't been on tumblr for a while #i know there's much to catch up on #many great works popping up here and there #y'all. all writers are amazing #enough said

[illusionsofdreaming]

Thanks to @calesleftboob​ and @raritygold​​ for tagging me <3

It’s been a long while since I had to mess with picrew and y’all I’m not at all creative- BBT prop is 200% points though because I live, breathe, bleed bubbletea. Unfortunately none of the doggy options were my dogs, so I picked the one that looks the closest and still look nothing like them at all. Welp.

It was really fun though <3

sillies look-

found a silly picrew :D

silly tags (no pressure, of course!): @coffeeandconfusion, @terrence-self-ships, @chuuyas--boo, @oc-x-cannon-on-main, @ninasrandomships, @just-slightly-unhinged, @spideygal and whoever whoever wanna join :D

#chatter #I'm not at all experimental with picrew #all my picrews end up pretty generic and boring #like me LOL #this got me craving bbt tho #i also have a bad habit of wearing high neck sleeveless shirts #in summer #and it really kills me outdoors #but #i like them

[illusionsofdreaming]

🥺 I don't know what the second WIP is but it's hurting me

He felt as if he was standing on the precipice of something, millimetres away from tipping over into the unknown.

“_________,” his fingertips tingled as he gripped your hands gently. “It’s cold up here. Let’s go back down.“ Back within the safety of four walls and the companionship of others. Back within the safety of this place they made their home.

You stared at his hand over yours. “Cale…” And he waited but it seemed you’ve lost your words as you looked at your linked hands and a myriad of complicated emotions crossed your face. 

Then, slowly and gently but surely, you withdrew your hands from under his. 

here’s a little snippet

#chatter #a little morsel of uncooked dough #subjected to be trashed at any moment's time #but yes #it's going to hurt #wips

[illusionsofdreaming]

Thanks for tagging me <3 though I'm going to have to break rule number 1 because -stares at 33 WIPs-

so with a bit of adjustment, I shall post the recent few WIP titles (excluding HCs) I have written a sentence or more for within these two months.

Beacrox x TBoaH Reader + Cooking

TCF - A heartbreak..; (...breaks two ways;)

GI - Bow and Arrow

DBH - Android Kisses

Tcf - fighting in their pjs

TCF- Competitive hand holding (choi han, alberu)

“You’ve got to stop poisoning the envoys Claude.”

Mr.Nobody

and tags.. I am not updated on who's writing atm that haven't already been tagged previously so I'll leave this open-ended with special honorable mentions @sinfully02slow and @theseagullsscreamat6am because they have tagged me previously and I have, like a dunce, completely, lost track of time to reply.

WIP GAME

Rules:

Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous.

Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet of it or tell them something about it!

And then tag as many people as you have wips.

(You can make your own post or reblog this one!)  I have deemed that this isn’t just for writing either. Sketch titles? Comics? Dnd campaigns? If you have an unfinished project, it counts!!

thank you @reneneedtodie for the tag. i decided to cut the thread because it was getting too long 🥺💔

also this list is yelling at me to finish all my shit

Rapture of Sex

Of Dresses and Disguises

Aphrodisiacs

Epiphany

Turn Back Time

@calesleftboob @freiarchon @slackerlife @slacker-lifewhen @murasaki-cha

Hope you don't mind me tagging you all <33

#chatter #wips galore #i do not name my writing until I finish them #so all these are filler titles until i polish them off

[illusionsofdreaming]

I feel so attacked right now...

#chatter #writer things #it be like that sometimes #the guilt is killing me #but also #-opens doc- #-closes doc-