#And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you

[prettyblondguys]

seeing The Mountain Goats perform Never Quite Free live would fix everything I just know it

#It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward #With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand #And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you #And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land #It gets okay just to praise the day #Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath #But hear his breath come rushing through his teeth #Walk by faith #And tell no one what you've seen #It's so good to learn that from right here #the view goes on forever #And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone #See the sunset turning red #let all be quiet in your head #And look about #all the stars are coming out #They shine like steel swords #You can wish me well #where I go #But when you see me #when my change comes #you'll know

[luveline]

first of all, congratulations on 40k! ur so very talented and all of ur stories r so amazing!

𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 + 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤

can i request fat!reader with hotch? maybe the reader is super anxious about meeting the rest of the team (maybe she’s already met rossi or spence or somebody) because shes worried that they’ll think she isn’t good enough for aaron so they push off them meeting for a while but then aaron gets shot (like in the shoulder or something, nothing major) and the doctors call her bc she’s on his emergency contact?

tysm babe!

There are people crowding Aaron's hospital bed. You can name them all from the photos you've seen alone; Morgan, muscled, his skin a deep sable; Reid, startlingly pale and with hair to his shoulders; and Rossi, or Dave, an older member of the team standing by the door. 

Knowing them by looks isn't going to make this easier. Maybe because you know that how you look is the very first thing any of them will notice. You aren't like Aaron's previous partners, but you're here, and you'd really like to see him. 

"Hello?" you ask, elbowing open the door.

Aaron looks up, sees it's you with a furrowed brow. "Did someone call you?" 

Which is honestly the worst thing he could say. You know you don't look like anything special, but when you get a call from the hospital that your boyfriend's been shot in the shoulder, you rush. "I'm your emergency contact?" you say, unsure. 

He frowns. "I didn't want them to call you and scare you. I'm fine."

"If there's ever a time for understating things, now isn't it," says Rossi, extending a hand to you. "David Rossi, nice to meet you."

You smile though acid twists in your stomach. "Hello." 

"Derek Morgan," Derek says, offering his swiftly after. 

"I'm Spencer, but I don't shake," Spencer says.

It's just as well. You don't have much patience left for shaking hands, easing past the men and their welcoming smiles to your grey boyfriend. You hesitate for a moment before giving in and touching his face. "I really would like to be called, you know, in the future." You kiss his cheek. "Even if it's scary." 

"Sorry you had to introduce yourself," he says under his breath. 

"Where's Emily?" you ask. You already know Emily, and she'd been so nice to you, you almost wish you'd met her outside of Aaron so that you could be friends. 

"Fighting a losing battle with the coffee machine," Rossi says. 

You straighten up and hold your hands behind your back. Then, self-conscious, you fold them in front of you. You know what you look like and don't usually worry when you're with the people who love you, but meeting new people brings old wounds to light. What are they thinking? you wonder. Do they think Aaron's settling? And that you're the wrong girl for him? 

"I can see why Hotch hasn't introduced us sooner," Derek says. Your heart plummets through your stomach, but he winks and smiles, continuing, "He'd have competition." 

(You can't know this, but they've all noticed your insecure shifting. Hotch wouldn't usually love such blatant flirtation between you and another man, but this instance gets a pass.)

"You can all go home now," Aaron says, reaching for you with the hand that isn't forcibly incapacitated. 

"Aw, boss," Emily says, elbowing open the door with a blonde behind her, "what fun would that be?" She sees you standing by the monitors and grins. "Hey! I wish we were seeing each other again under different circumstances, but it's so good to see you, oh my god!"

Aaron nudges you forward secretly, his fingers at the small of your back. You step forward without more instruction to give Emily a hug. Over her shoulder, the blonde girl smiles. It's an acute relief that she's not skinny, either. 

"Hey, mama, you get anything for me?" Derek asks her. 

"I did, but now this beauty is here, you'll have to wait! Hi, I'm Penelope." 

She's exceedingly eager to hug you as Emily had. 

(Hotch doesn't even care that his shoulder feels like someone poured hot casting iron in the wound, or that he'd really like for you to be hugging him right now rather than Garcia. It's nice to see something he knew was worrying you go smoothly. Nicer still to receive the smile you shoot back over your shoulder as JJ opens the door and his room becomes somehow more overcrowded. 

"She's just as cute as you said," Dave says with an approving nod. "You've still got it, Aaron. There's hope for all us old timers yet."

Hotch had called you cute, but you're a hell of a lot more than that. Definitely still got it, he thinks.) 

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #luveline's 40k party

[becca-e-barnes]

'Jesus Christ, behave.'

That's an instruction you were always going to ignore but it's even easier to ignore over text.

You follow up with another picture of yourself, your ass this time, barely hidden behind thin lilac lace.

'No. We can do anything you want, whenever you want to this week. Nothing is off limits.' It's thrilling texting him like this, knowing he's just across the room. His poker face is a hell of a lot better than yours but you're not sure it'll last the full week that he's staying with you. 'Just don't get caught.'

No one in this room full of people would ever suspect he's texting you, or that you're sending him some photos you'd taken just before the guests arrived.

'Really? I thought you'd enjoy putting on a show.' He texts back quickly, not looking up from his phone after the message is delivered.

You hadn't really thought about it until now and perhaps it isn't the very worst suggestion you've ever heard.

'Is that what you want? You want other people to watch me cum for you?'

'Fuck no.' You expected that answer but it still makes you laugh to yourself. 'Come upstairs in 5.'

You do as you're told, practically counting down the seconds until it's time for you to follow him up to the bathroom.

"Do you mean it? Anything I want?" Hearing him repeat your own filthy thoughts back to you makes it all feel very real.

The sound of his voice and the way he's looking at you has you uncomfortably aroused but there's nothing new there.

"Anything." You confirm, taking a deep breath when you feel his hand snake its way up your inner thigh, under your skirt. You know what he'll find at the apex of your thighs. You're warm and slick and needy already and you notice how he raises an eyebrow at you when his fingertips slip past the soaked lilac lace of your panties.

"You mean..." He taps your clit with his index finger and it almost feels like he's sending a shock around your entire body. "I can slide two fingers into you whenever I want?"

You look back up at him and nod, desperate for him to do just that.

"How about three?" He sounds so calm and you can't help but shudder. Three of his long fingers stuffed inside you sounds fucking magical.

"Yes." You pant, grinding yourself against his hand, hoping he'll be tempted to slip those fingers inside you.

"Or I could bend you over this sink? I'll make you watch your own pretty face in the mirror while I flood your tight little cunt with my cum. I know you'll take it like a good girl too. You promised me you would." His head is running away with him and that's exactly what you want. He comes up with the most wonderful suggestions sometimes.

"I'll be so proud of you, you know that?" One of his thick fingers slips into you, then another, curling against the front wall of your cunt and you can hear just how wet you are.

"Mhm, please." You groan, your forehead falling forward onto his chest. You need this more than you want tell him but his movements are measured so they only tease you.

"Soon, sweetheart. Later. Be a good girl and go back downstairs."

#becca's thots #becca writes spice #dbf!bucky #dad's best friend! bucky #dbf!bucky smut #pure filth lol #I bought my new bed this week though!! #my bed and my fridge were the two things I knew I'd be really picky about #I love the bed frame so much #it'll really fit in with the aesthetic I have in mind #It's gonna be so strange #I've had a single bed nearly my entire life #what am I gonna do with a king?? #that'll be so much space #it's all very exciting now

[jennyfromthebes]

the thing about Never Quite Free is that. yeah sure you will never be completely free. that's kind of the nature of life! you can't change what's already happened and you'll always have the memories and the attached strings. but that does not mean they have to be a thing that holds you. they will fade, in time, though, yes, never fully disappear; but you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you. things will never be 100% good 100% of the time, and that's okay, you'll sleep better when you think you've stepped back from the brink, and found some peace inside yourself, laid down your heavy load. it's the nature of things that the bad parts stay with you, but that does not mean they have to hurt. never quite free, sure - but free enough that the good parts outnumber and outweigh the bad ones. free enough to dream at night.

#hi. sorry. im having emotions about this song. again. as always. #idk. im just. the darkness is not a place that has to hold you. yknow? #txt #the mountain goats #tmg #orig

[pochipop]

＃ GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — THEY END THE RELATIONSHIP (BREAKUP ANGST).

#. synopsis! — things don't always work out the way they're supposed to .

#. characters! —childe , kaeya , diluc .

#. warnings! — angst .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

＃ CHILDE !! ♡

You wish this had ended differently. Later, maybe, —never at all. . . Something like that. But the pieces have fallen, and this vein has long since been mined dry. An empty pulse thunders in your chest, shaking the cavern; echoing with a painful hollowness that eats you up inside. And there’s nothing left to do but to accept it, let it wash over you like the evening tide that laps at Yaoguang Shoal. There’s nothing more for you to find here, and Childe has made that much crystal clear. Yet it still hurts to walk away.

“I’m. . . I’m sorry,” he says, and the worst part of it all is that he means it.

It’d be easier if it were a pleasantry; if he didn’t care enough about you or your feelings to genuinely be remorseful. Maybe then it wouldn’t tear you up inside, slitting through all your defenses like daggers heading straight for your heart.

You can’t hate him. You can’t, —not when you’ve gone this long loving him like you’d never get another chance to. And now, you think bitterly to yourself, you never will.

“I know,” you say, voice cracking under the pressure.

You swallow the lump in your throat that’s formed from all the words you can’t muster up the courage nor the strength to say. The only thing left to do is swallow it down, stuff it down, choke on the aftermath until it leaves you gasping for breath. Begging him to stay will only prolong the inevitable split.

Inevitable, you muse. Because we never really had a chance, did we. . . ?

Of course not. A Fatui harbinger and an average citizen of Teyvat? In what world was that really destined for a bright future with a sunlit wedding?

Maybe in another one, perhaps, but certainly not in this one. That's long past established by now.

"It's better to do it now," Childe says, hand reaching out for yours, but stopping just short of your fingers.

It dawns on him then that this really is the end, and it hits him like an arrow to the heart. He can't hold your hand anymore, —can't lace his fingers through yours and give your palm a reassuring squeeze. He can't, because he doesn't deserve to. He doesn't deserve to have you look at him like he's dotted the stars across your skies, and yet you do. . . And he wishes he'd never seen it. Because he knows nobody else in the world will ever love him the way you have for so long, even when he wasn't worthy of it.

Maybe he never really was.

"You should go, Childe," you say to him, and what little light was left behind his eyes seems to fade away into nothingness.

He's grown cold, —and this time, you can't be the one to crawl inside his heart and set it on fire.

"I. . ." He begins as if he has something else to say, but trails off because he isn't sure what that is.

Silence hangs heavy in the melancholy air. You feel it weigh down on you, pressing you further into this pit of despair that you'll have to dig yourself out of eventually. For now, though, you don't have the strength to claw for the surface.

"Yeah," Childe concludes, and your soul aches at the bitter, frigid edge that clings to his voice.

It's going to haunt you for a very long time.

"You're right," he acknowledges, "I should head off."

Yesterday, he would have been reaching out to wipe away the tears that fell past your eyelashes, telling you not to cry because he'd be back soon, —safe and sound. Today, he can only stand at a distance, watching as your heart breaks in time with his own in a devastating symphony of misery. This goodbye is final. . .

And Childe swallows the "I love you" that creeps up the back of his throat, knowing it would be far too selfish to say now.

＃ KAEYA !! ♡

Kaeya knows what it's like to be hurt, —to feel the rug be pulled right out from under your feet. In fact, he knows it almost too well, like an old friend from the past that he's never truly loved at all.

Standing before you now, he's forced to reconcile with the child that still lives inside him. The one Diluc slaughtered on that fateful rainy night not so long ago. The one that was torn to shreds by bitter winds and pelting rain, —the young man that got lost amongst the mist and is still in the process of finding his way out.

And maybe Kaeya's just unlovable. Maybe he wasn't created to be loved or to be cared for, but to fake it all, to hurt those in his path, and then throw them to the wayside with everyone and everything else when the pressure builds and he feels like he's drowning all over again.

He used to think he'd been given a cryo vision in order to pull himself up from the depths; —create a staircase of ice like some fairytale prince in search of a helpless damsel in distress. But you weren't the one who needed saving, and he's far too proud to acknowledge that he's been stuck underwater all this time with no stamina left to breach the surface.

"I understand what you need from me, but that doesn't mean I can give it to you," Kaeya says.

His voice is as despondent and cold as the ice he conjures with his sword. This is how it's always been. At first, you were keen on making something pretty from the mess of it all; —comparing his emotional stonewalling to the power he wields and telling yourself that one day, hopefully someday soon, he'll look at you and realize that all you want is for him to let you in. To let you see all those jagged shards he's sharpened in a protective cage around his heart.

You didn't want to admit that you'd known all along your affection would never be enough to melt him down. Admitting that was like conceding to the fall of the relationship. . . Because how could you ever sustain love with a man you'll never know beyond face value?

"You can't, or you won't?" You ask.

Kaeya pauses, pretending to think about it. He'd made up his mind long ago, and that realization hits you like a gust of chilling winter wind; both painfully crisp and achingly sobering.

"I don't know that it matters anymore," he replies.

He's right. But it still hurts in ways you can't fully describe with simple words alone.

Deep inside, you know this is hard on him too. You wish there were some kind of outward expression of that, —but it doesn't shock you that he's standing before you with his mask of stoicism on air tight. There's no point in trying to tear away at it now. 

"I. . . I guess not," you sniffle a bit. "I'm just sorry that I wasn't enough. And even though I'm mad at you right now, and a part of me wants to tell you that I hate you for all the time I wasted on you, —I love you too much to say that when it might be the last thing you remember of me. So just. . . Think of me from time to time. Fondly. That's all I'm asking of you."

Kaeya's gaze falters.

I'll always think of you.

". . . yeah," he mumbles softly, "I will."

＃ DILUC !! ♡

Sometimes, love just isn’t enough.

Loving Diluc wasn't, as hard as it is to admit it. No matter how hard you tried, there was always some lingering sense of. . . Something. Even now, at the end of it all, you’re not sure what it is. But you do know that it haunts Diluc like a ghost, —feeding off every insecurity that’s etched its way into his fragile heart. His walls are high, and he raises them each time you seek to pull him closer.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “I never meant to hurt you.”

No, Diluc didn’t mean to. But he did. Over, and over, and over again.

Even so, if there’s anything Diluc feels he’s best at, it’s running away when the pressure builds and his shoulders begin to quiver under the weight. Though many look at him and see a heroic figure: a young man with the heart and will of a duty-driven soldier, the little boy that huddles beneath the surface is anything but that. He’s barely an adult, drenched by rain and slathered in blood. He’s cold and shivering like a stray dog that's lost its way again, —pathetic and seeking warmth from anything. Anyone.

It wasn’t so much that Diluc set out to hurt you in particular.

No, not at all. You were simply collateral damage: in the wrong place at the wrong time, though fate disguised your meeting him as some fairytale story the moment he turned his gaze on you and set your heart on fire. If it wasn’t you, it could have been anyone.

He just needed someone to fill the hole in his heart. It didn’t have to be you.

But, in the end, it was.

“This does hurt, Diluc,” you reply, choking back a heavy sob.

His crimson gaze wavers, trembling with shame, guilt, and remorse. If anyone is completely undeserving of this, he knows it to be you. You were there for him even when he sought to crawl inside himself, hoping to hole himself up and away from the world. You were the one to coax him out, show him that life can be beautiful too, even when it’s been tainted by despair.

What you didn’t understand, however, was that Diluc was already well past the point of no return. And he’s the only one who can change that. No amount of love from you or anyone else will ever be enough to pull him from the depths of his own darkness if he isn’t willing to grab hold and lift himself up from the inside out.

He loves you, yes. . . But for all the wrong reasons.

He’s running away again.

“It’s better this way,” Diluc says, “I just can’t be the person you wish I was.”

“I’ve never wished you were anyone.”

I can’t be the person that I wish I was for you, and I can’t make you wait for me to be him. 

Even now, he’s doing this wrong. Not that it surprises him. When it comes to you, Diluc hasn’t done much right, and it eats at him like a parasite swimming through every semblance of happiness he’s ever felt when your lips have brushed against his. Happiness is something someone like him shouldn’t be privy to, but selfishly, he reached for you because he thought loving you might ease the pain that endlessly nibbles at his frost-ridden heart.

You were his soft place to fall, —and fall he did, like raindrops pelting down from the heavens. Heavy, then soft, then heavy again, then nothing at all. And when the clouds cleared and the sun began to peak through again, he knew what had to be done.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, apologizing just one last time.

“I hope one day you can forgive me.”

And maybe, just maybe, Diluc will find a way to forgive himself.

#childe #diluc #kaeya #childe x reader #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya x reader angst #diluc x reader angst #childe x reader angst #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader angst #genshin impact x reader angst #childe x you #kaeya x you #diluc x you #diluc ragnvindr #kaeya alberich #childe tartaglia #diluc ragnvindr x reader #dilux ragnvindr x reader angst #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya alberich x reader angst #childe tartaglia x reader #childe tartaglia x reader angst #genshin angst #genshin impact angst #diluc angst #kaeya angst #childe angst

[gaytotaldrama]

duncney week day 3: dress up

somehow, duncan convinces courtney to let him give her a makeover.

duncney song of the day: 'make me feel,' janelle monaé

also on my ao3!

Her answer was no. A flat, resounding no.

And then she thought a little more about it.

"Fine," she told him, plopping down on the bed they shared. "You know what, I'd like to see you try. Do your worst, Duncan."

"You're gonna regret saying that, Princess," he replied, grinning ear-to-ear like a shark. "You're not ready for how punk I can make you."

"Yeah, yeah, just get on with it."

In all actuality, he wasn't entirely sure what his game plan was here. It wasn't like he'd thought Court was going to agree to him giving her a serious style change. Brainstorming on the fly, he delved into his side of the closet, much messier and uncoordinated than Courtney's neatly folded and primly labeled drawers. Deciding he'd give her a little autonomy (and also make things easier for himself) Duncan asked, "Dress, skirt, or pants, babe?"

"Um, skirt. I guess. Just not that godawful kilt Owen gifted you, please."

He picked out a torn midnight blue piece that he was 110% positive belonged to Gwen - Duncan didn't go for skirts often, but when he did, they weren't so...pasty. Still, imagining Courtney wearing it got his blood roaring. He turned around and tossed it to her, along with a maroon leather belt Gwen's friend Crimson had left behind. Or was it Ennui's? And, more importantly, why was Duncan's closet full of everyone else's goddamn clothes but his own?

The rustle of fabric behind him told him she was changing. Any other day he'd smirk and watch, but right now, it was more important to find her a shirt.

"Does Gwen even know you have their stuff?" He could hear the whisper of leather being pulled swiftly through loops. "Good call on the belt, though. Last time I borrowed Gwen's pajama pants, they fell down and I accidentally showed Harold my undies."

"Doris saw your panties? Might have to beat him up for that," Duncan returned casually, fishing out a tie-dyed black-and-blue Metallica shirt. "Here you go, Princess, Ride the Lightning."

He did turn to watch as she pulled her sweater over her head. She was wearing that black lace bra that drove Duncan crazy; he was sad to see it disappear under the new shirt. 

"You said punk," Courtney pointed out, looking down at her - unfortunately well-concealed, fuck Duncan's wide-ass torso - chest. "This is metal," she groused, like he didn't already know that.

He grinned. "You wanna swap it out for the Sex Pistols one?"

"...Fine." She sat on the edge of the bed again, crossing her arms. "Well? Shoes? Hair? Makeup?"

"Piercings?" Duncan joked, but at the answering withering glare, he quickly turned back to the closet. "Here, I've got these patchwork sneakers that should fit, and some fishnets. As for hair..."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" she asked warily, before shrieking as he pounced on her with a can of hairspray, intent on giving her some spikes. "Duncan! This stuff smells terrible!"

Then he decided he didn't like the spike idea, so he opted for just mussing it all up and layering it with some spritzes of dry shampoo. It did kinda hurt, just a little bit, to ruin Court's beautiful hair, but it was only temporary. 'Sides, alt Courtney had been a fantasy of his since...the first time he'd ever laid eyes on her, maybe?

Grabbing some mascara and umber eyeshadow, he ultra-darkened her lashes and smeared around her eyes carelessly, black and powdered. She fidgeted throughout all of that, but when he laid a steady hand on her jaw to fill in her soft lips with color, she stayed completely still, just looking at him.

When he capped the lipstick she sighed, breath fluttering out against his face, and dipped forward like she wanted to kiss him. "Nuh-uh," he said, holding a hand up between their two mouths. "You'll smudge it."

"Oh, like it matters," she said, and stepped up to the full-length mirror on their wall.

"Well?" For one reason or another, Duncan found himself nervous, sinking down to sit on the mattress. "What do you think?"

"Hmm." She was studying herself, turning her body this way and that to catch all the different angles. To him, she was beautiful. Metal, and makeupped, and fishnetted, and beautiful.

But still nowhere near as incredible as the real Courtney Reyes.

"It's missing something," she decided, and she grabbed Duncan's skull hoodie from the back of the desk chair. She didn't zip it up; she let the sleeves fall loose so her shoulders were bare and the hood hung to the small of her back. Then she turned to him and echoed, "Well?"

Duncan smiled like a goof. "Looks amazing."

"You think so? I kinda like it." She cast another glance in the mirror before settling her hooded gaze on him. "Hey, when did Geoff say he and Bridgette were coming back home?"

"Not for another hour or so." Duncan reached out for her, pulled her to stand between his legs with her arms looped around his neck. "What did you have in mind?"

"I think," she said, slow and sultry. "That it's time for..."

"Yeah, Princess?"

"...Your turn."

He frowned. "What do you mean my - wait, NO. No no no no no no no I am not going to - "

"Oh, yes you are!!!" Courtney crowed with delight, and she leapt off of him and raced, cackling, to her side of the closet.

#duncney week 2023 #duncney #td fanfiction #my writing

[nine-of-words]

Something Borrowed (Part Nine)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG || NEXT

Wordcount: 4177

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup

Obligatory angst chapter :’)

You haven't gotten out of bed all day.

You can hear the sounds of the workers you hired repairing the shop beneath you, so it’s not like it’s possible to continue to sleep through it. And yet, you just can’t seem to motivate yourself to get up and function today.

You know you'll have to get up and talk to them when the work day is over, and at least lock up behind them. But the last time you left the comfort of your blanket nest was to let them in first thing in the morning, and you don't feel inclined to leave it again until it's absolutely necessary.

You can’t even throw yourself into your work to get your mind off your love life being in shambles, not with your shop like this. The repairs will take at least a couple days, so you’ve had to refund a few wedding cakes you’ve had going out already. You’ll be able to eat the cost, sure, but it’s not exactly great for business.

While all of those things are troubling, none of that really is what’s bothering you.

It’s knowing that you’ve just cut off the most perfect man you don’t even think you could’ve dreamt up if you tried.

And the worst thing about it is… You’ve done it to yourself.

It's not like Carlyle hasn't been trying to contact you since you've been awake- starting with the usual morning texts he sends you while on his train commute.

> Good morning

> I know you said we shouldn’t see each other anymore, before you ordered everyone out of your shop last night

> But I care about you too much to not even follow up

> Emotions were high

> So I thought it might be for the best to try to open a line of communication, now that things are more calm and its easier to think more clearly

> And maybe we can talk it out

Then, more around lunchtime;

> I feel like I'm crossing a boundary pushing like this 

> But I’m worried about you

> I’m not asking you to change your mind

> I only want to be completely sure you’re okay

You manage to ignore those too, but it’s much more difficult. You start chewing on your lip, forming a raw spot on the soft interior.

The guilt is gut-wrenching. But you know if you answer even a single one of his texts, your willpower will crumble. It’s for both of your sakes that you don’t respond right now. Surely, he’ll eventually lose interest…

Carlyle is handsome. He’s smart. And he’s charming. You’re sure he’ll go off and find a nice man or woman that isn’t cursed to brutally ruin the relationship from the start, no problem. He doesn’t need to waste his time with someone as unfixable as you.

But the very thought of him with someone else, though imaginary, still makes you sick to your stomach, so you force it out of your mind.

A few episodes of your program later, you get one last string of messages.

> I’m going to call you when I get off work

> If you don’t want to answer, that’s okay

> That will be my last attempt, because I want to respect your feelings here

At 5pm sharp, the telltale noise of your device going off blares from next to you in bed. The lit-up caller ID clearly says ‘Carlyle’ in your darkened room.

You simply stare at it for a few moments. You want nothing more than to pick up the call, every muscle in your body screaming for you to move and answer him, to hear his voice and ask him to come over and just forget everything that happened yesterday. You could forget everything about the curse and how even being around him is a danger to his continued wellbeing and just be happy.

But instead, you shove your device under your pillow and smash it down, like you’re trying to smother the non-existent breath out of the inanimate machine. It doesn’t fully drown out the sound of your ringtone and the vibration, but you hold it there until it finally stops going off.

You want to scream, but you don’t even have the energy left anymore. You simply sink back down into your bed, covering your head with your duvet and quietly sobbing.

You eventually have to pull yourself together, to see the workers repairing the shop out for the evening and locking up behind them. You’re sure you look horrible, but you can’t be bothered to care much. You just silently hope behind your forced smile that they didn’t hear you crying your eyes out.

When your device goes off in a series of buzzes again when you come back upstairs, you can’t resist almost diving onto the bed to look at it. Luckily you didn’t think to just silence it in your sadness before. 

To your relief and disappointment, though, it’s not Carlyle this time.

> Hey. so. 

> Just FYI

> I do have the legal clearance to come break into your shop if I have cause for worry

> and you are causing me to worry

> Get ready for a welfare check :)

You’ve been ignoring their texts checking in on you all day, so you suppose you’ve brought this on yourself. You find yourself smiling a small, fragile smile for the first time all day.

< okay but please don’t break the door in

< enough things are broken around here

You barely have the motivation to drag yourself over, even when you hear the pounding on the door. You finally manage to, if only because you have no doubt Kirby was serious about breaking in. As expected, Kirby’s standing there on the landing of the back stairs, unwieldy with a huge takeout bag in one hand and an overstuffed bag from the corner store in the other.

You must look even worse than you thought, because their cheerful expression morphs into one of concern and undisguised pity almost immediately as you open the door.

“Oh. Honey.”

Kirby embraces you with genuine care, despite the awkwardness of them not putting the bags down first.

“I’m like- soooo sorry.” They squeeze you surprisingly hard around the middle, but it’s not unwelcome. “I was supposed to fix this and- and all I can do is sit around and watch it get worse!!”

You struggle to not start bawling again from the comfort.

“It’s not your fault,” You say weakly. “You’re doing your best.”

“Yeah, well, here~!” Kirby pulls back, motioning with the bags in their hands. “If I’m suddenly useless at cursebreaking, the least I can do is be present, hehe!! So!! I brought takeout and treats and we’re gonna have a chat!”

You peek into the bags they’re holding open- a copious amount of takeout from your favorite place, your favorite flavor of ice cream from the corner store, and various other supplies, including tissues; luckily for you, since you’ve already ran through your own supply of them. 

You get situated on the couch, and to your surprise, the words start flowing out of your mouth like a waterfall. You had thought you didn’t want to talk, that you didn’t even want to think about it anymore. But having a supportive presence here that wants to listen is apparently enough to break the dam of feelings you’re trying to keep bottled up.

It’s a weight off your shoulders to talk about how you’re feeling with someone besides the cruel voice in your own head. You haven’t even called Emer about it yet- you were worried about burdening her with your second earth-shattering heartbreak in not even as many years.

And to be honest, it’d be majorly embarrassing to explain this after asking for the kardemummabullar recipe only a couple months ago.

“I just feel like there's no point in even trying to fight it,” You sum up your tirade as you forlornly prod at the food in your to-go container. “If magic's made me unlovable, maybe I'm just unloveable.”

“Stooop.” Kirby, who has been otherwise attentively listening and only offering words of support as you spoke, finally refutes something. “Nope! No, no, nope- not even a little! You're PLENTY loveable!! Just because we're stumped right now- it doesn't mean there's not a solution!

“If you put it like that…” You sigh, but find yourself smiling. “I guess I'll just have to take your word for it.”

“Hahah, yeah you will! Soon this'll be all nicely solved and tied up with a pretty bow and we'll look back on how silly it was to be so down. You. Just. Wait.”

Kirby stays until late into the night, and after the first explosion of extended venting about the situation with Carlyle and your feelings about the curse, you don't find yourself mentioning it again. Instead you fall into a comfortable time chatting about nothing and watching the most brain dead programming you can find, over the takeout and snacks Kirby brought. It almost feels like a normal, pleasant evening in with a friend.

It’s a welcome distraction, and you’re thankful for them being here for you. You just wish that the darkness didn’t start to creep back in as soon as they’ve left and you've crawled back into your empty bed…

The next few days are much the same. 

Miserable.

Unable to work through your feelings by working with your hands, like you usually would; being cooped up in your room alone, trying to fill the hole in your heart with sweets and distract yourself with mindless entertainment (and failing) like this - it reminds you so much of right after Trevor left.

You’re an absolute mess. Drowning in that exact same nagging, raw sense of emptiness…

…Who are you kidding?

This is absolutely worse.

Maybe it’s the same kind of agony, sure, but this is so much more vicious.

You thought after how things with Trevor ended, you'd never experience anything like that sort of heartbreak again. You never thought you’d have the capability to miss someone this much.

You were so wrong.

You can barely keep yourself from looking at your screen. Everything you try to distract yourself with, from the recipes you’re scrolling through on your device, to the well-groomed lead in the movie you’re half-tuning out, reminds you of Carlyle. You would give just about anything to go back to how things were before your curse started getting in the way.

There is one particularly glaring difference that you can’t help but appreciate, though. This time, you had people in your life that cared enough to check on you- something that simply didn’t happen with Trevor. At some point, all of your friends had become friends that were his first, so it made sense that he kept them in the breakup. But this time, Kirby wouldn’t let you wallow alone, and Carlyle had really tried to get through to you…

It just makes it hurt more.

You fight the urge to sigh as you pipe another pitiful, wonky rosette onto the cake in front of you. You have several orders to catch up on now that the shop is open again; you don’t have time to be making careless mistakes, but your heart just isn’t in your work right now.

Grumbling, you scrape the top layer of icing off the side to start over.

It’s an otherwise normal Saturday in your shop- pops of business here and there, with enough lulls for you to get your icing and decorating in.

It feels good to be back in your shop. Now if only you could do your job properly…

Kirby is over in the corner, and while chatting earlier was the bright spot of your day so far, them being at that table working on your case just reminds you about who would usually be joining them about now…

You’re used to missing people- you did move overseas from your familial home fresh out of school. And yet… You don’t think you’ve missed anyone this bad before.

If you close your eyes and focus, you can almost remember what it feels like to have his firm, comforting arms around you, or his solid hands skimming lightly on your skin, or his hungry lips against yours…

“Uh… Hey. Are you… okay?”

You snap back to attention to the familiar voice, realizing that in your mental haze, you’ve just been absent-mindedly squeezing a slow, steady stream of icing onto the counter in front of you from the chokehold you have on the piping bag.

“Oh- Um, yeah. Sorry. Hello again, Rosario.” You plaster a smile on your face as best you can. “Can I get you something…?”

“...The same one as before.” She brandishes her credit card at the payment terminal like a viper ready to strike. Or maybe a deer ready to flee? It’s hard to tell. “Please.”

“Oh, don’t worry about paying.” You fetch one of the overly chocolate cupcakes from the case and slide it over on a napkin. “It’s on the house.”

“Huh.” She puts her card back in her wallet, a dubious expression on her face with a single thick eyebrow quirked up. “You sure? Isn’t it bad for business to be constantly giving your product away?”

“It’s fine! Really.” You laugh warmly, waving your hand. “I’ve got a certain amount budgeted for giving away freebies. And I think you’re swell. So- Enjoy.”

And even if you can’t see Carlyle, you can at least be nice to his friend.

“...Thanks.” A flash of a smile shines through her typically sour demeanor. But it looks… almost guilty, the way her eyebrows furrow for a split second.

To your surprise, she leaves the counter and instead of going on her way… approaches Kirby? Who immediately greets her and pulls out a chair at the table before motioning to the papers in front of them.

Now you are intrigued. You’ll have to swing by their table when you find time to take a break from the work you have piled up.

It takes a while to carve out the time with your current failing job performance, but you do finally find the time to take a break and go over to their table.

Though, as you get within earshot, it takes all you have in you to not drop the drinks in your hands on the floor.

“-fact of the matter is it can’t be a geas unless there’s a mandate, either physical or verbal. That’s-”

You’re gutted. You’d recognize that voice anywhere.

“Oh heeeeey~” Kirby grins up at you, leaning their chin on their palm as their other hand reaches over and (unsuccessfully) surreptitiously casts a silence bubble over Rosario’s device, if the reflective flash of cyan in their irises and the sudden silence of from the speaker is any indication. “You here to sit with us for a bit?”

You know Kirby well enough now you’d probably pick up on the slight stress in their voice. 

“Yeah,” You manage, your mouth suddenly dry. You choose to not even address what you just heard. What’s there even left to say about it? “It’s been a while so I thought you could use something to drink…”

Impressively, Rosario has a poker face of steel, judging by the absolute lack of break in her composure. She simply pulls out the chair next to her.

You try to be present in the conversation, but the vibe is fatally off now. You find yourself zoning out, eyes fixed on the too-white grout around the replaced tiles on the floor until you get back to work.

A few hours later, you’re cleaning up in anticipation of closing time, stewing in your own negative headspace. You do tune back in long enough to see Rosario wave goodbye, which you at least have the presence of mind to reciprocate.

Kirby checks in on you before they leave. You pretend that you’re not affected by hearing Carlyle’s voice earlier, and Kirby seems to decide to not push you to talk about it, but does their best to cheer you up before they leave for the night regardless.

The next day is more of the same, with Rosario now acting as a surrogate Carlyle as far as working on your case goes, or so it appears. Kirby is more diligent this time to conceal the sound from the speaker if they see you coming.

Soon, it’s been an entire week, then another day. You wish it was getting easier.

It’s any other Tuesday, but there’s the nagging reminder that it’s the weekly order from the ladies at Carlyle’s law office tonight. Last Tuesday the shop was closed, so it had slipped your mind. But now, here you are again, but instead of the usual happy anticipation of your usual weeknight visit, you’ve only got a knot in your stomach.

How is this even going to go? Is he still going to order? Will he show up?

What would you even say to him…?

You’d be lying to yourself if you deny that you’d be overjoyed to see him walk through the door of your shop again, no matter how awkward it’d be.

But the hours go by, with no order coming through under his name, or resembling the normal order he picks up. It’s well into evening, and you’re starting to accept that you didn’t need to worry about it in the first place.

And then, the jingle of the POS system. You glance, not expecting much- just to see his name pops up on the order screen. It’s perhaps the most beautiful arrangement of letters you’ve ever seen. You hurry to get the order together perfectly, despite the ample time you have to prepare it. 

You only torture yourself more from the time the order appears until the minutes are ticking down to the scheduled pick up time. 

It’s almost close on a Tuesday night, after all. There's nothing else to do but wait.

And wait you do, an exhilarating and sickening mix of apprehension and expectation building inside you.

Finally, the pick up time approaches.

The door bell jingles…

You turn to look.

And in walks… 

A delivery driver.

They’re pleasant enough as they say Carlyle’s name to confirm the order. You’re pleasant enough back, despite there being a massive faultline breaking your heart in two.

You wait for the delivery driver to leave with the box, then you flop down on the stool behind the counter, shoulders slumping and spirit absolutely broken.

Of course he’d do that. It’s the most logical course of action. Of course he’s not going to come in. You clearly told him to stay away.

Is… that it? It’s done? Just like that?

It’s over?

You had hoped, against your better judgment, that he would turn up and you could smooth things over.

You’re so tired of this.

You fold your arms and set your head down on them against the surface. You don’t want to cry again, but you can feel the sting of tears on the rim of your eyelids. 

It’s too much, it’s not enough. He should’ve showed, He’s right to have not. You wish more than anything you could see him again, you wish you had simply never met. 

If it’s for the best, why does it hurt so badly?

It’s just not fair.

As you’re sitting there, wallowing in sorrow, you feel something brush against your elbow, then along your forearm. You barely have the energy to care, but curious, lift your head just slightly to see what’s touching you- probably a loose napkin that got stuck to your arm or some other bit of detritus.

But there’s nothing there.

You’re left sitting there, equal parts confused and creeped out.

Whatever Rosario failed to exorcize is still here indeed, it seems.

Maybe even a particularly stubborn wayward spirit for company is better than being alone. The thought gives you a bit of comfort, and the chill in your spine slowly dissipates.

You’ve almost convinced yourself to stand and go lock the door for the night. There’s only a few minutes left before you’re closed anyway, and you might as well. It’s not like anyone will show up…

Just as you’re thinking that to yourself, you see a form appear in the window- but after a glimmering, red-hot ember of hope, you recognize the form as someone you absolutely did not expect, nor want, to see.

It’s Trevor. And before you can react or even fully process it, he’s casually walking through the door, then right up to the counter, with something in his hand- it only takes a moment to make out that it’s a heart-shaped box.

You’re struck with terror for a moment, but too dumbstruck to react.

“Hey.” He nods, like this is a normal thing to do.

He carelessly sets the item down on the counter, revealing that it’s indeed a heart-shaped item- a pink, frilly,  cutely decorated box of chocolates.

You stare down at the item on your counter.

GET WELL SOON; it reads.

This can’t be happening. 

This has to be a joke.

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage to scoff out quietly, completely done with any cordial pretense.

“Pfft. Wow. That’s how you say hello to someone bringing you chocolates these days?” Trevor says, clearly offended, but brushes it off as humorous with that annoying little huff of a laugh he’s always done. You used to think it was cute. “Dating must not be going well for you then.”

You steeple your hands over your mouth, struggling with all you have to contain yourself. You let out a long, drawn out sigh, centering yourself, and then finally speak in a restrained, measured tone.

“You have 30 seconds to explain yourself before I throw you out into the street.”

“Look- They’re from Dev! But she forgot she had a workshop to teach today so like, she asked me to bring them here- Well. Begged, more like it. And you know. The whole puppy dog eyes thing she does. Like, how can I argue with that? She said your shop exploded or something.” He says, exasperated, before adding in a grumble; “It doesn’t look very exploded to me…”

You simply give him the most dead-eyed look you can muster.

“Just read the note if you don’t believe me.” Trevor points at the “You always make things so difficult.”

You bite your tongue and read the note instead of giving in to the urge to strangle him.

Hey,

They didn’t have a box with “sorry your shop exploded” on it??? This one was the closest. Get well soon, shop!

XOXO Devin & Trevor

You’re much less disgusted by the gesture knowing the chocolates are from her, but a bit of the sick feeling in your stomach remains, being face to face with their deliverer. And of course, you can’t help but notice that both of their names are in Devin’s handwriting.

There’s a pang of guilt in there somewhere, too. Or maybe pity? After all, it wasn’t too long ago that you were in a position similar to Devin’s- planning a wedding basically by yourself, and not even able to get a scrap of help with minor errands without begging.

“There was an accident with a light falling. I had to close up shop for a tick.” You begrudgingly explain, but don’t even know why you’re bothering- it’s not like he ever listened to anything you had to say, anyway, even when you were supposedly the most important person to him. “It’s sweet of her to have thought of me.”

“Yeah, she’s always doing this sort of thing. She’s so kind and selfless- She’s perfect.”

Your molars grit a bit at the statement, but you choose to ignore the slight in favor of continuing to appreciate your friend.

“Tell her I said ‘thank you’- or wait. Actually, nevermind. I’ll just send her a message myself.” You sigh, remembering that your chances of him actually passing the message along is slim to none. “Now, if you don’t mind, it’s past close...”

“Cool. See ya.” Trevor nods, seemingly just as relieved as you are that the interaction is over, if the way he scurries out of the shop like some sort of vermin is any indication.

That’s it. You angrily scrub at the counter with the sanitizer. Champagne. Bubble bath. NOW.

After a much more vigorous end to your closing procedures than the stalling you were doing before, you finally walk over to your shop’s front door. You’ve been putting off turning off the light the entire time you’ve been closing down for the night. Somewhere in the back of your mind survived the hope that perhaps Carlyle would show up today, regardless of current circumstances…

You know it’s stupid to wish he’d show up. You’re the one that told him you shouldn’t see each other, after all. This is just how it has to be.

And yet…

You let out a long, withering sigh, and switch the neon sign off, extinguishing its pink glow.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST >> ☕ KO-FI

#exophilia #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #gargoyle x reader #gargoyle #male x male #mlm #mxm #male monster #male reader #series: something borrowed #oc: carlyle #oc: declan #nine of words

[lapetiteceinturesworld]

Hi, guys! Today I have a fight scene for you. I've decided that on the tenth of every month, I'll upload a new scene detail here, once a month. As always, I hope you enjoy it and share your thoughts with me. ❤️😉

Her eyes followed Tommy's movements. He leaned into her, his whiskey-scented breath, his cigarette-smoked exhales touching her skin.

"You know, I thought you were the best thing that could ever happen to me. Not after the war. My whole fucking life. But that day at the Garrison, when you told me you were leaving, that was the first time I thought, what if I was wrong? What if you're not the best, what if you're the worst?"

If he'd hit her, it would have been easier to recover from that.

Grace kept the answer to herself for a full minute. She nodded, indicating that she had taken note of what she had heard. She opened her mouth. She forced the words out of her constricted throat, not letting any of them escape. This time it was Tommy's turn to listen.

"I have no intention of denying any of what you have just listed. Yes, I wanted to run away. Yes, I have become unworthy of your trust. I now understand that this is something that will take us a long time to get beyond. And I have no doubt it will be even harder in the future. But now you answer me: is this your long-term plan? To hold me accountable for everything I've been guilty of? Because, if you are determined to blame me forever, you could not have been more wrong. I warn you, Thomas Shelby, I will not let you to do it. I am not deserving this. And neither do you. In that bedroom," she gestured with her wagging forefinger toward the door behind Tommy, "on our first night, I promised you forever. This is it. This is what forever looks like. It's complicated and messy and painful. But I want it. I want it with every inch of my body. And you?"

Reaching for his face, her fingers warm, nervous against his skin. The desperate look moved from Tommy's eyes to hers. Tommy's eyelashes drooped, his jaw began to drop. Grace slipped her finger underneath, lifted his head. The charcoal-black eyelashes at first showed only a slit of slate-blue irises, then gradually opened. Grace held Tommy's gaze to her eyes. No exception: Tommy would not tolerate Grace running away from him, so Tommy could not escape from her either.

"Do you want the same? Does forever mean the same to you as it does to me? Because if it, you're staying here. Not for me, for us. To fight for forever together, because it's not just gonna fall into our laps. We have to work for it. I'm ready for that. I'm just waiting for you to make the decision. If you feel the same way as I do, you'll come back to the bedroom with me and we'll sit down and talk about it. If you not..." Her voice is trailing off. Her hand dropped, she took two steps back. Her arms hung limply at her sides, her palms prickling with a feeling of absence. "If not, I'll know you want something else," she finished. "'That forever means something else to you than what it means to me."

She moved out of Tommy's way, revealing freedom to him again. It would be so easy for him to take it. He would just have to walk out to her, slip into his coat and shoes, and with that he could be free - of her, of their relationship, and all the burdens of it.

But Tommy didn't make a move. He looked at her as if trying to make sense of what had happened. Like he was trying to find out if she was really planning to give up on him. As if he didn't dare trust it, but longed for Grace to take its place as a bastion in front of the exit. But, like Tommy, Grace had not yielded. Just as with Clive, all was said and done. In the moonlit room, the path remained open for Tommy. Grace didn't limit his choices, his options. From here he could go wherever he pleased.

Grace didn't even consider looking the other way, to glance away. If Tommy did indeed reject her, she would watch him make his decision and see him follow through. She won't miss a single moment of it, she wanted imprint everything in her memory.

Years ago, she promised herself she would never beg for anything or anyone. She didn't care if the sky fell on her, and if that meant losing the person who had been the best thing that had happened to her for years, then it is the way it should be. Then it could not have turned out any other way. Grace doesn't put a price tag on her self-esteem. Especially not to get a man's commitment. Never again in her life. She had suffered that humiliation once.

Tommy's lips parted. He took a soundless breath. "I want," he said, and then, with closed eyes, nodding, he repeated the word in a breathy sigh. "I want."

#writing #grace burgess #peaky blinder fanfic #fanfiction #grace x tommy #tommy and grace #thomas shelby #peaky blinders

[thejunkyardafewblocksfromhere]

It gets alright to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him, you'll know

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land -Never Quite Free, The Mountain Goats

#Star vs the Forces of Evil #Star Butterfly #Marco Diaz #Eclipsa Butterfly #Janna Ordonia #Sweet Dreams #Deep Dive #The Mountain Goats #Never Quite Free #star vs the forces of evil season 3 #Star vs Text Posts

[hallothere]

41 with... Lothrandir maybe? 👀

41. Panic attacks (and tw for associated content)

Alone was easier, most of the time, as opposed to being around other people. This is it, this is the thing that kills you. It's here, and it's coming and there's no stopping it now. Other people often had tells that were hard to stomach. A raised eyebrow. Alternatively, a frown. Techeron's face would pinch and his brows would crease up while he fought back the urge to use the 'And what's making you think that?' he asked when schooling. It's over. Feel that? That's death. That's already here and it's not stopping for you.

When he was alone, he could lie down, press the heels of his hands into his eyes and counting his breathing. Sometimes for an hour, sometimes less. He would have a quiet place to cry or to be sick. Being sick... that was one of the worst.

You're already dead. You just don't know it. But you'll feel it. You're feeling it all the way to the end.

The worst one in memory was with an audience. Here's the rest of your life. You're the last one. What's it going to be like, however long you have left, to be without them forever? He'd been bound, standing, feeling his heart hammering into the wooden post while the Wizard cocked his head. Amused. You know what you saw before you left. Dead. That was the sound of them dying. And he's told you the ways it happened, some of them. Do you even want to think about it? Can you afford not to?

He'd blacked out that time. He'd wept, never more thankful that the fear always dissipated on waking.

But he didn't always have the luxury of sleep. It's not really over. It's a trick, just one more in the downward spiral. You're on borrowed time. At least now you won't be alone when it hits. Be on your guard, and maybe you'll see it coming, however much good that will-

"Dagoras."

Lothrandir stood just outside the circle of the fire. There were a few Ithilien Rangers with mugs of ale, Rohirrim with mead, and the appreciative exchange happening between them. Dagoras turned and found his face. He didn't frown.

"Lothrandir. Need anything?" he asked as if he couldn't guess.

"If I could tear your from the revelry for a moment-" he paused to look at the assembled company and grinned, "-We won't be long."

Dagoras sighed heavily, for the benefit of the assembly. Lothrandir saw the mug go down to the log seat unfinished, saw Dagoras' face steel a second before sliding back into unconcerned acceptance.

"Keep my seat warm, will you? I'm getting too old for cold nights." It meant nothing. Everything. Past the line of tents and behind the heavy trunk of a culumalda, Lothrandir pushed his face into his hands.

"It... it is over? The War? The generals, at least, please tell me something is ended--"

Dagoras' face seemed to droop in recognition. Not in resignation, or reluctance. Compassion. Pity.

"The worst of it, yes." He spoke softly even for their relative isolation. "If the evidence in the air isn't enough, the evidence in your heart either-" here Dagoras set a hand on his shoulder and Lothrandir held onto it right back, "-then we can trust Mithrandir. Frodo cast the Ring into the fires of Doom, and that much has ended things. You saw him too, did you not? He wasn't some trick of the light. Mithrandir, too, seems glad, and we all know there's precious little that causes that these days."

Lothrandir managed a laugh. His eyes stung, and his head hung there a moment longer while the words sank in.

"Tell me again, then." Dagoras spoke up after a moment. "Like you did in Pelargir. Name the fear, that I might know it and dispel it."

Lothrandir took a deep breath. "That... that we didn't really win. That I have.." He swallowed hard. Dagoras didn't interrupt. "...That I have you all back, and I'm going to lose you. That orcs are going to sweep down from that hill over there and cut us down to a man."

Dagoras paused to look at the hill. "It's a worthy concern, don't mistake me." He pulled Lothrandir to his side, facing the hill, but did not insist Lothrandir look. "It's wise to be vigilant, but our Ithilien cousins scouted the hill. They did find trolls- turned to stone- and a few orcs trying to scavenge their caches. Our friend took care of those. Every hiding place of the enemy on that hill has been scattered. Better yet, the Eagles have taken great delight in picking off stragglers. I think I overheard Gwaihir compare them to fleas."

Lothrandir laughed again, deeper, and Dagoras ran a hand down the back of his head to his shoulders, again and again. Lothrandir felt something like a skittish horse, but didn't move to complain.

"Thank you" he said.

"Come find me any time. Any time at all, Lothrandir." Dagoras continued to tend to him like a frightened foal without complaint. "Or, if I'm not there, try one of the others." Lothrandir stiffened, and he felt it. "At least sit with one of them. For a minute- I'm not asking you bare your heart." More quietly, he continued, "Radanir is much the same. You may bristle, but he will try to help in his own way."

Lothrandir remained still for the measure of a few more breaths. Then, he straightened. He clasped Dagoras' hand tightly.

"Thank you." He repeated. We're alright. We're going to be alright.

#writing tag #fic tag #jjkhjHjkhkjHUHSDHjdhkhka #lothrandir #dagoras #again lol #it's old man day i suppose #based loosely on the time my brain talked itself into thinking i'd contracted brain-eating-amoeba #cw panic attacks

[stumblingoverchaos]

From my Good Omens art journal. Collage, acrylic paint, sticker.

"It's all good to learn that right outside your window There's only friendly fields and open roads And you'll sleep better when you think You've stepped back from the brink And found some peace inside youself Laid down your heavy load It gets all right to dream at night Believe in solid skies and slate blue earth below But when you see him you'll know

It's okay to find the faith to saunter forward With no fear of shadows spreading where you stand And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you And the waves that tossed the raft all night have set you on dry land It gets okay to praise the day Believe in sheltering skies and stable earth beneath But hear his breath come through his teeth

Walk by faith Tell no one what you've seen

It's all good to learn that from right here the view goes on forever And you'll never want for comfort and you'll never be alone See the sunset turning red let all be quiet in your head And look about, all the stars are coming out They shine like steel swords Wish me well where I go But when you see me you'll know" -The Mountain Goats, "Never Quite Free"

#good omens art journal #good omens fanart #art journal #art journaling #visual journal #visual journaling #collage #goodomensartjournal #goodomensfanart #sticker #stickers #quotes #lyrics #gos2

[becca-e-barnes]

literally every day i think about a free use situation with dbf bucky 🥲 doing the dishes and having him come up behind you, pull your skirt up and panties down, and just take you there immediately bc he knows you’re always wet and ready for him

I've always thought free use sounds like a lot of fun, I gotta say 😏

And I like the thought of him getting himself all worked up but he knows he can't have you right away. Maybe you have some guests over and even though you've happily been in a free use arrangement, he's got to have a little self-restraint.

He'd be just sitting at the kitchen counter, overhearing the others engage in some polite conversation but he's not really listening. Instead, he's watching how you're just absentmindedly clearing up, slipping dishes into the dishwasher, putting utensils in the sink and wiping down the kitchen counters after dinner.

The hem of your dress comes to just above your knees and he finds he just can't stop staring at your bare legs. He's trailed his lips and tongue up your legs so many times, over the sensitive, slightly ticklish spot at the back of your knee, on his way to a part of your body he wants to kiss so much more.

He can't help himself. He needs you and he knows you'll gladly take him. He just needs all these people to leave first although a little part of him considers getting started with everyone else watching. Particularly Ari. He gets awfully flirty with you but Bucky almost thinks that Ari would probably join, rather than back off. That might not be the worst idea.

As soon as the kitchen clears though, he's on you, his lips on your neck, one hand squeezing your breast, the other holding your hip. "I'm sorry baby, I can't wait." He groans, letting the hand on your hip trail down your thigh, pulling your dress up.

"You don't need to wait. Just be quick." You tease, smiling to yourself at the tiny groan he breathes against your shoulder. He loves knowing he can just take you; that you want him to use you whenever he needs to and he's just as receptive to you when you want him.

"Fuck, you're a dream come true." He whispers, pressing two of his fingers into your hot mouth while he undoes his belt with the other hand. "Get them wet for me, sweetheart."

You suck on them for a few seconds, swirling your tongue around his fingers before they're removed from your mouth. Your panties are pushed to the side, his wet fingertips teasing your entrance before pressing in because despite your rapidly building arousal, you wouldn't have been slick enough to take him without some extra help.

"That's it. Good girl. You're always ready for me in no time, aren't you? You take me whenever I want." He bends you forward slightly for easier access before rubbing the tip of his cock against your soft core.

You stifle a quiet sob, feeling him begin to press inside you. It's not quite the perfect glide he's used to but it's still more than comfortable. "Rub yourself. Get nice and wet for me." He growls in your ear and you can't disobey an order like that. Your own hand slips between your thighs, rubbing your sensitive clit quickly and it doesn't take long for your body to respond.

"Good girl. All wet and messy for me. Shit, you were made for this, weren't you? You were made to be bent over and fucked whenever I want. Hope you know I'm taking your panties. I don't care who sees my cum running down your legs." Something in you loves the thought of that and he knows it. The thought of having to keep your legs crossed to stop his release from dripping. The thought of everyone realising you're not quite as wholesome as they might have thought.

#asks answered <3 #anon #becca writes spice #dbf!bucky #dad's best friend!bucky #I'm alive I swear #I counted it up #between my two jobs and travelling for work #I worked 84 hours this week #84. 84 hours. In 6 days. #I feel really bad bc I didn't realise how short my fuse was at the end of the week #I got home from work at 5 yesterday and I just SLEPT #Like I slept almost the whole way through from 5pm to 10am #I took my makeup off and I got into bed #that's just some context as to why I've been inactive all week #the week before was pretty similar #but thankfully things will ease up next week #my dad saw dusty footprints in the passenger side of my car today though #and he was like 'did you have a boy in the car?' and gave me the 😏 look #and I said no #and then he asked if I had a girl in the car #that's not a conversation I will ever have with him but at least my dad thinks I could get girls 🙃

[jennyfromthebes]

tmg lyric ask game: going to dallas and never quite free

ask game: send me a mountain goats song & I'll tell you my favorite line from it!

Going To Dallas: Let me go, to no, haven anyone would yearn for / Burn a hole in something for me / Turn around and let me go free - ouhhhhh. jenny. jennyyyyy. The idea of just goingband it doesn't matter where to, going to a place that nobody would ever want or try to go to, but it doesn't matter just as long as you're going. I'm so fond of this song. Remember me fondly and then let me go. I know there are intense debates about whether this song counts as one of the Going Tos, but I don't really care I just love this song. Also, hey, I'm literally going to dallas tomorrow, so that's fun!

Never Quite Free: how do I even choose oh my god. Goose this is a song that I would willingly permanently ink the entirety of onto my skin. I guess for today I'll go with And you'll breathe easier just knowing that the worst is all behind you / And the waves that tossed your raft all night have set you on dry land. I know this isn't supposed to be a happy song and I actively do not care, because it's a song that promises that even though the past will never disappear fully, you DO reach a point where the worst IS all behind you. And that isn't insignificant.

thank you for the ask :D

#txt #ask #transmissions from lyric #tmg

[parcequecestnotreprojeeeet]

Even though the weekend is coming to an end, a little story. Your Strawberry

Weekend

As the car turned into the driveway, she took a deep breath. It had been a busy day and she was glad they were spending the weekend here at the country estate. At least here they could switch off a bit and recharge their batteries. Today had been a tough one. No one had prepared her for the suffering she was about to see in her position. She often felt so helpless and some visits kept her busy for a long time.

If she was lucky, he was already there and she could get rid of a bit of what was weighing her down. It was good to confide what she had seen in someone. Once you got it off your chest, you felt better. He was a very good listener because he really listened. He took the time to follow her thoughts and ask questions.

If she was not there yet, he usually retreated to his study. That is where she found him today. He paced back and forth in the small room in front of his desk. If he was so restless, he was not well. She had barely entered the room when he noticed her. "You're late." He sounded annoyed and her suspicions were confirmed. "We got held up," she explained softly. Before he could say anything, she spoke, "It would be very nice if you would just give me a hug as a greeting."

His features relaxed a little and he came to her and hugged her. Calmly she asked, "Why are you angry?" He broke away from her and looked at her frowning. "I am not angry," he stated with a grim look. She assumed he was unhappy with himself or his staff. If he wasn't at peace with himself, then he was obnoxious and it would be hard to placate him. If someone hadn't done what he wanted or if something was going too slowly for him, then it would be easier to calm him again. She hoped the latter was the case.

"Sit down," she demanded firmly. Questioningly, he looked at her. She didn't need to repeat her demand. He understood her look and sat down on the chair in front of his desk. She stepped behind him and began to massage his shoulders. At first she felt him tense up. "Relax and tell me," she requested softly and she felt him give in. He sighed. "I can't get anywhere if they are so slow and don't do what I tell them," he explained. She smiled. The old problem. "They're not you," she interjected. "But they must have understood how I want it," he defended. "You want everything preferably right away and preferably several things at once." He nodded. "You overwhelm most people with that. Try to be more patient with them." She smiled as she felt the nervousness slowly fall away from him. He listened to her and did not interrupt. After a while he asked. "You know exactly which buttons to push to bring me back down to earth." She laughed. "Maybe you'll listen to me someday too," she remarked and he sighed.

Then he turned to her and she lowered her hands. He looked inquiringly into her eyes and suggested, "Let's swap." He added, "My antennae tell me you need to get rid of something too." She stroked his face and gave him a loving look. Then they exchanged places. He leaned down to her ear and whispered, "Relax and tell me." He began to massage her, but she needed a moment to gather her thoughts. She told him what she had seen today and added, "Seeing sick children is the very worst. I always think of our grandchildren and the fear that something like that could happen to them chokes me up. I have to fight so hard not to cry and it is very exhausting. All the suffering and misery feels so overwhelming."

After she told him in detail about her experiences today and he asked a few questions, he pulled her into his arms and held her close. "My problems are ridiculous by comparison," he whispered in her ear. "Ridiculous or not, it's good to have someone who listens to you," she remarked, lowering her head onto his shoulder. "What do you say we take our dog for a walk?" he asked. "That would be the perfect start to the weekend," she grinned.

Helloooo sweet 🍓! ❤️

Both being there for each other, listening to what was bothering them and making it better. Together. ❤️ That’s exactly the goal! Such a beautiful piece 🙏🏻❤️

Thank you so very much, Strawberry! ❤️❤️❤️

#fanfic #strawberry

[creedx13]

the death of Jason Creed

Death

The first time I died. I was on the front lawn at Xavier's. I was 11 my healing factor came at 8 and that was an ordeal by itself. I almost died although It did leave me with vitiligo wich looks supper awesome.  

The day I first died was a normal day. I had gotten hurt before since getting my healing factor, but never enough to kill me. This lunch time recess I was just standing in the field listening to the birds. Suddenly some sort of projectile went fast and hard straight through my chest from behind. I rember opening my mouth to speak and then coughing up a significant portion of blood i looked around to the other kids, they looked either horrified or they threw up. I heard screaming and someone said "mine gott" I think, and a womans voice storm or ms.grey, I think. I quickly fell into the initial darkness that comes with death. It felt like some kind of fucked up reboot. I was bounced around between voids and mazes. I had thoughts but no voice Images and names but nothing made sense and all I could hear was a rush of blood and what sounded like an army of very angry spiders. I woke violently with a gasp mr.logan was right next to me sitting on my infirmary bed he caught me by the shoulders as soon as I bolted upright in bed. “ hey kid you're ok. I know you’re freaking out right now just start by focusing on breathing. you can do that. Ok?” I nodded and held his onto his arm digging my claws in desprate to cling to reality “fucking ow. Go easy on me. will ya kid?” I just gag and then start to cry silently and shake. he simply slides me into his lap and hlods me until i calm down and can form words again. “What happened?” 

“you died. you wern’t paying atention at resess. one of the older kids threw a baseball too hard, you died oblivious. your healing factor brought you back.”

“I don’t like it.” “I know kid. you'll get used to It. learn to deal with It, the first time Is always the worst. I wish I coud say It gets easier but It dosen’t it's like this every time but It dose get better.”

“ you smell funny.” mr logan chuckled at this. “ that’s cause your little debacle Inturupted my smoke break, little menace. Never smoke It’s a tough habit to kick, I’ve been smoking for a century.” “wow. am I gonna live that long?”

“Well, not If you’re that easy to kill you won’t.”

“Oh.”

“don’t be disappointed kid you have me to teach you how to be tough to kill, youre a fighter you'll be fine just pay attention next time. Ok?”  I nod and Mr. Logan tucks me back into bed. handing my care back to the medical staff. 

I told this story to Sofia after she had asked; why I’m in all of mr logan’s classes and why we are so close. When I have Sabertooth's mutation.

That was the long answer, but the short answer is that I’m a lot like Wolverine, our mutations are similar, so who better to teach me to deal with my powers and how to live than someone who’s been doing just that for centuries.   

#x men #x men comics #sabertooth #wolverine #logan howlett #james logan howlett #james howlett #xmen

[purposefully-lost]

It was late to be visiting and he knew it. James kept his hands tucked in his pockets, shivering against the cold as he walked the narrow stone pathway that led just through the cemetary gates. Annette was buried on the far side of the estate, in a plot near William's parents. They'd all agreed before she passed that it would be the easiest thing to do, to bury her nearby and with the Wests- where Will would lay too, one day- than to have her body transported all the way back home.

That had been a very hard day. It hadn't gotten any easier. Only a week since his sister had passed and the world was still forging ahead, leaving himself and a select few caught in the current.

A few steetlamps lit the way as he stepped over grassy plots and pathways, slowly picking his way towards Annie's clean new headstone. He saw the shadow next to it only seconds before be recognized the silhouette. His face softening, James paused for just a moment before he pressed forwards.

"It's a cold night to be out here alone," he said softly, despite the fact that he'd come here by himself, too. He tilted his head as he approached the kneeling shape of William West, who appeared to be leaning forwards against the stone. His heart ached for him-- he and Annie had been a wonderful match. James' two greatest friends had fallen in love and he wasn't quite done mourning the life they didn't get to have. Stopping a few feet behind him, he hesitated another moment before he spoke again. "I'll.. leave, if you want me to. Give you some time with her. I- I know--"

The sound of a shaky, heaving breath cut James off. He frowned, believing for a moment that Will must be crying, but suddenly the man turned his head and lamplight reflected off of something on his neck. Blood, bright and red. James' eyes widened.

"Will," he started, gaping for a moment before he stumbled towards him. Falling to his knees, he got a better look at his friend; at the blood staining his neck, his arms, his chest-- blood smeared on the headstone, on the grass. William looked half-alive, his eyes lidded and his breaths labored as he looked up at him. For a moment, James feared the worst, that he'd done this to himself, but he shoved the thought away for now. Will needed help, and it was all that mattered. Meeting a clear blue gaze, James took him by the shoulders, letting out a soft breath. "Oh, God, Will. I'll get you home-- I'll- Jesus. Hold on, okay?"

He got a small nod in return and it was all he needed. James stood, trying to hoist the man up with him, and for a moment he was thinking of a time when they'd been little more than kids, Will smeared with blood as he was now. James let out a small laugh, meeting his friend's eyes again. "Hey. Just like old times, hm? You'll be alright, just..."

Will slumped against him. James closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself for the long walk back to the road with a pained Will. He put his arms around him to hold him up, planning to tell Will to brace himself for being lifted, but suddenly hands were digging hard into his back. James frowned, trying gently to push him away so he could lift him. "Come on, Will," he said softly, fearing that he was about to pass out. "I need you to help me. Just--"

There was breath hot on his neck. James tried again to push him back, just enough to see his face, but was met with an unexpected sort of strength. He made a quiet sound, trying to turn his head to look at him. "Will, stay with me. Come on, it isn't far.."

James flinched as teeth broke his skin. Arms stronger than he'd ever imagined Will would be tightened their hold around him while a warm tongue drew across his neck. "Will-!" He tried again to pull away, this time shoving at his friend with a stronger force, but it did little to deter him. And soon enough it didn't seem to matter anymore. He relaxed under Will's hold, his heart racing while his eyes fell shut.

Soon enough he slumped into Will's arms, and his heartbeat slowed. Soon enough, he fell to the ground.

Will stood over him for a long moment, wavering on his feet and letting the taste of an almost sweet blood settle in his mouth. He stared down at the body, unsure and lost. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke.

"...James?"

#ANYWAY #roleswap #drabble