#fathers day gift ideas 2021 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

musicforastylesrestaurant · 10 months

Text

Happy Fathers Day.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

author’s note - happy father’s day, y’all, i know that is late but this cute little idea popped into my head and i just had to write about it. 🫶

word count - 7.3k

in which, father’s day was something that harry never envisioned himself celebrating in past years, but now that he has his own little one, he couldn’t be more excited to celebrate . It’s been almost a three years since your angel baby made an appearance (25 months to be exact) and today is father’s day you’ll be spending the day with your gorgeous husband and your prince charley, as well as some friends, family and a whole lotta love.

trigger warnings - mentions of panic attacks <3

June 18th, 2023.

Acoronf to Wikipedia, is a holiday honouring one's father, or relevant father figure, as well as fatherhood, paternal bonds, and the influence of fathers in society.

It was a very special day but also a slightly bitter sweet one.

As much as Harry loved celebrating Father’s Day with his family, and his biological father, he couldn’t help but think of his step father Robin on this day.

He passed away in 2017.

You wake up with a smile, the realization dawning on you that it's Father's Day. Excitement dances in your eyes as you glance at your husband, still slumbering peacefully beside you. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist like it always was when you slept.

You carefully climbed out of bed, careful not to disturb the man beside you before heading across the hall to your son's room to check on him.

It’s what you did every morning.

Your bare feet hid the wooden floor as you made your way over to his room, your hand reaching out to push the door open even more than it already was.

That was when you made your way over to the crib and your eyes softened at his peaceful figure.

Charley Robin Styles.

Born May 10th, 2021 at 09:18 am.

He's still sound asleep, cuddled up in his little fortress of stuffed animals, lying in his front which was a habit he picked up from his father.

A surge of love fills your heart as you watch him, grateful for the gift of being parents to such a wonderful little boy. He was so carefree and hardly ever kicked off, but that was before he started going through his terrible twos.

You pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head before you tiptoed out of the room, closing the door gently, and headed to the bathroom to prepare a special surprise for Your Harry.

With delicate care, you set up the bathroom, transforming it into a mini oasis. Soft towels, scented candles, and Harry's favourite shower gel adorn the space.

Everything is in place as you quietly slip back into the bedroom, ready to awaken Harry with your surprise.

You sit on your side of the bed, gently shaking his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead. It's a special day.”

Harry stirs, blinking his eyes open slightly before a sleepy smile graced his face. "Hmm? What's going on?"

"It's Father's Day, love," you whisper, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "I've arranged a little surprise for you in the bathroom. Shall we start the day off with a relaxing shower?"

Although he had just woken up, you could see the small smirk that filtered into his face as the idea of a shared shower.

But there would be none of that today mister.

Harry's eyes widen with delight as he fully wakes up, realizing the treat in store for him. "You've outdone yourself, my love. Lead the way."

Hand in hand, you make your way to the bathroom, the anticipation building.

The flickering candlelight casts a warm glow as you step into the steam-filled shower. The soothing sound of running water envelops you, heightening the atmosphere of relaxation.

"Sit here," you gesture to a small stool inside the shower, covered with a plush towel.

Harry settles onto the stool, his eyes fixed on you. "You're spoiling me today."

He spoiled you every day so it was only fair.

"You deserve it," you reply, reaching for a loofah and squeezing a dollop of his favorite shower gel onto it. "Today, it's all about celebrating you as an incredible father."

You dip the loofah into the warm water, watching it foam up with fragrant bubbles.

Gently, you begin to wash Harry's back, your touch a tender caress. The lathered loofah glides smoothly over his tattooed skin, releasing a subtle aroma that fills the air.

Vanilla and Oak.

Harry closes his eyes, surrendering to the sensation. "This is heaven. Thank you, my love."

You smile, your heart swelling with love. "I'm just getting started. There's more to come."

With each stroke of the loofah, you pour your love and appreciation into the simple act of pampering.

You work your way down his back, his shoulders, and his arms, focusing on every inch of his tired muscles, washing away the fatigue of fatherhood.

As you rinse off the soap, your hands glide through his hair, massaging his scalp with practised tenderness just how you know he likes it. The water cascades down, washing away the suds and any lingering worries, leaving only a sense of serenity in its wake.

"I'm so lucky to have you as the father of our son," you whisper, your voice filled with emotion. "You bring so much joy and love into our lives."

Harry opens his eyes, his gaze locking onto yours. "And I'm grateful every day to be your partner, to witness the incredible mother you are. Our son is blessed to have you."

Tears well up in your eyes as you lean in, your lips brushing against his. The shower becomes a sanctuary of love and appreciation, a sacred space where the bond betweenyou and Harry deepens, reinforced by the shared moments of tenderness and gratitude.

As the water continues to cascade over you both, you shift your attention to Harry's front, your hands working their magic against his butterfly tattoo with the gentle touch of the loofah. You navigate the curves of his chest, the contours of his abdomen, and down to his legs, ensuring every part of him is enveloped in the soothing embrace of the shower.

"Thank you for being such an incredible father," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Our son is growing up with a role model who embodies love, kindness, and strength."

Harry's eyes glisten with emotion, his love for his family radiating from within. "Being a father is the greatest gift. I wouldn't trade it for anything. And I couldn't do it without your unwavering support and love."

You smile, the water mingling with tears of joy on your cheeks. "We're a team, Harry. Through the challenges and the joys, we're in this together."

Together, you rinse off the remaining suds, feeling the weight of the day and the world wash away with each droplet. As the shower comes to an end, you wrap soft, fluffy towels around each other, basking in the warmth and comfort of the moment.

After the shower, instead of getting changed you and Harry decided to stay wrapped in your pyjamas.

Well you wore one of Harry’s shirts and a pair of his boxers whilst he just wore his boxers and left his torso on show completely.

You cast a look over to the baby monitor that was resting on your husband's bedside table. “— shall we go wake up Char and head downstairs for some brekkie?”

Waking up your son was one of Harry’s favourite things to do, he loved to be the first Charley saw in the morning and the last thing he saw at night.

Together, you enter Charley's bedroom, greeted by the sight of him still sleeping peacefully in his crib. His tousled hair that matched his fathers and rosy cheeks make your heart swell with love. Harry approaches the crib, his voice filled with warmth and anticipation.

"Good morning, little champ," Harry whispers, leaning over the crib rail. "Wake up, Char. It's a special day today."

Charley stirs, blinking his sleepy eyes open, and a smile tugs at his lips as he recognizes his dad's voice. "Daddy?" he mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

Harry chuckles softly, reaching down to scoop Charley into his arms. "Yes, buddy, it's me," he replies, his voice brimming with affection.

Charley's face lights up with delight. "Happy Daddy Day!" he exclaims, his small arms wrapping around Harry's neck.

You join in the tender moment, a loving smile on your lips. "Happy Father's Day, Harry," you say, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

Harry's eyes twinkle with gratitude as he gazes at both of you. "Thank you, my loves. This is already the best Father's Day ever."

With Charley nestled against Harry's chest, you make your way downstairs to the kitchen. The delicious aroma of breakfast lingers in the air, inviting you to partake in the celebration. As you enter the kitchen, you see the table adorned with a feast fit for a king—fluffy pancakes, sizzling bacon, fresh fruits, and a steaming pot of coffee.

The morning sunlight spills into the kitchen, casting a warm glow over the countertops and filling the room with a gentle ambiance.

Charley's eyes widen with glee as he spots the colourful array of food.

"Breakfast!" he exclaims, clapping his hands in delight.

"That's right, buddy. A special Father's Day breakfast for all of us."

You settle Charley into his high chair, his little legs dangling beneath the tray. His excitement is contagious as he eagerly waits for his plate to be filled. Meanwhile, you and Harry take your seats, the anticipation of the meal bringing smiles to your faces.

You begin to fill Charley's plate with small portions of each delicious treat. Pancakes, cut into bite-sized pieces, are stacked high, adorned with a dollop of whipped cream and a drizzle of maple syrup. You carefully place a few slices of crispy bacon beside the pancakes, knowing it's his favourite. Ripe strawberries, juicy watermelon chunks, and a handful of blueberries complete Charley's colourful plate.

Charley's eyes light up as he takes in the feast before him.

“Yummy!" he exclaims, reaching out to grab a piece of pancake with his tiny fingers.

Harry leans over, his eyes brimming with pride. "Go ahead, buddy. Dig in. It's a special breakfast just for you and me."

You smile, watching the father-son duo bond over their shared excitement for the meal. Charley's small hand grabs a piece of pancake, and with a delighted giggle, he takes his first bite. A smudge of whipped cream adorns his cheek, a testament to his enjoyment.

While Char enthusiastically devours his breakfast, you and Harry exchange glances, savouring the simple joy of this moment. It's a celebration of Harry's role as a father and the love that surrounds your family.

"Thank you," Harry says, his voice filled with gratitude as he looks at you. "For this beautiful surprise, for being an amazing mother to our son, and for making every day feel like Father's Day."

Touched by his words, you reach across the table and clasp his hand. "I'm grateful for you, Harry. You bring so much love and joy into our lives. Watching you with Charley fills my heart with happiness."

Charley, oblivious to the depth of the conversation, claps his hands and exclaims, "Daddy!"

Harry chuckles, his eyes glistening with emotion. "That's right, buddy. I'm your daddy, and I love you more than words can express."

The breakfast continues, laughter and conversation filling the room. You share stories and jokes, creating memories that will be treasured for years to come. Charley's infectious laughter rings out, reminding you of the incredible gift of family.

As the meal draws to a close, you rise from the table, carrying Charley in your arms. With a satisfied grin, he leans in to give his dad a messy, syrup-sticky kiss on the cheek.

"Happy Father's Day, Daddy!" Charley exclaims, his voice filled with love.

Harry's eyes shine with pure joy as he gazes at his son. "Thank you, Charley. Being your daddy is the greatest privilege in the world."

▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌ ▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕

After getting changed for the barbecue, all three of you were getting everything ready for when your guests would be arriving.

You were wearing a white knee length cotton dress, with white ruffles on the sleeves, paired with a pair of white converse seeing as you didn’t want to walk around your garden all day in heels.

Harry was wearing a grey tank top with a pair of multi coloured shorts to add a bit of colour to his outfit, his hair was pushed back by a bandana and some white Adidas running trainers.

Charley looked really cute. He was wearing some white and blue pin striped overalls with some light blue crocs on his feet and a hat sat backwards atop of his head to protect his head from getting burned.

As you stood in the kitchen, you stared at the open fridge, head tilted to the side, as you studied all of the food you had brought for your guests.

A million and one thoughts were running through your head.

Did you have enough chicken wings?

What about burgers? There were going to be twelve people at the barbecue but what if you ran out?

And salad? You hadn’t checked if anyone was allergic to anything, what if someone had an allergic reaction?

As the pressure of preparing for the Father's Day barbecue intensifies, the weight on your shoulders becomes almost unbearable.

The constant stream of tasks, the expectations you've placed on yourself, and the fear of falling short begin to consume your thoughts. The familiar signs of a panic attack start to manifest—racing heart, shallow breathing, and a tightening in your chest.

Why had you agreed to organise this bbq?

In the midst of the chaos, you don’t even realise that Harry has walked into the kitchen, his wedding ring being the only ring in his finger for the day and his nails freshly painted by you the night before.

Harry senses your distress and quickly springs into action.

"Hey, love," he says, his voice laced with concern as he approaches you. "I can see you're feeling overwhelmed. Let's take a moment to regroup."

Tears well up in your eyes as you struggle to catch your breath. "Harry, I don't know if I can do this," you manage to say between gasps. "I wanted everything to be perfect, but it's too much. I'm failing."

Everything was becoming hard to focus on.

Harry's face softens with empathy, and he gently guides you away from the hustle and bustle of the preparations.

"Alright, darling," he reassures you, "let's step away from this for a moment. We'll find a quiet space where you can catch your breath."

With Charley by his side, Harry leads you to a serene corner of the house, away from the chaotic whirlwind that had engulfed you. He gently guides Charley into the adjacent room, making sure he's occupied and safe.

Harry didn’t ever want Charley to see either of you having an anxiety attack, it was something he never wanted his son to grow up to see.

He always made sure that your angel baby was in another room either watching tv or occupied by his toys so as to not see either of his parents having a meltdown.

That’s what made him an even better father.

As the door closes, a sense of isolation settles upon you, exacerbating your panic. Harry, however, remains by your side, his calming presence providing a lifeline.

He guides you to sit down on the sofa in the lounge room, he sits down beside you, his warm hand resting on your back.

"Focus on your breathing," he says, his voice steady and soothing. "Close your eyes, take slow breaths with me. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale."

You follow his instructions, attempting to mimic his rhythmic breathing pattern. The sound of Harry's voice becomes a guiding melody, anchoring you amidst the storm of your racing thoughts.

But the panic refuses to subside. The weight on your chest intensifies, and you clench your fists, feeling the urge to escape from the suffocating grip of anxiety.

You felt as though you were going to faint.

Harry senses your struggle and adjusts his approach. He reaches out, gently taking your trembling hands in his own.

“It's okay to feel overwhelmed," he whispers, his voice filled with empathy. "You're not failing, love. You're doing the best you can, and that's more than enough."

Tears stream down your face as the weight of his words sinks in.

“But what if it's not enough?" you sob, your voice choked with fear. "What if I disappoint everyone?"

You had spent too much time organising this for it all to fall to shit.

Harry's grip tightens, his voice firm but reassuring. "Listen to me," he says, his eyes locking with yours.

"You are enough, and you are loved. Our family and friends are going to be here to celebrate with us, not to judge how flawlessly everything is prepared. They're here because they cherish the time spent together."

His words resonate, breaking through the cloud of panic. Slowly, your breathing begins to regulate, and the tightness in your chest eases. You open your eyes, meeting Harry's gaze filled with unwavering support.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude and a bit raspy due to the crying your throat just endured. "I needed you to remind me of that. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Harry smiles, wiping away your tears with his thumb. "You don't have to do it alone, love," he says softly. "We're a team, and we'll navigate this together. Remember, the true essence of today is celebrating fatherhood and the love we share as a family."

Oh, what would you do without him?

After you and Harry continued to sit next to each other on the lounge sofa, it wasn’t long before Charley was calling out for his father to come and play.

Harry seemed hesitant about leaving you alone but you were quick to usher him towards where your son was, telling him that you needed to get cleaned up before the guests arrived.

Now that the panic had subsided and left you feeling vulnerable, you knew that it was time to take care of yourself. Give yourself a little bit of TLC.

You stumbled your way to the bathroom, seeking solace within its familiar walls. The cold tiles beneath your feet offered a grounding sensation, a small anchor in the midst of chaos.

With trembling hands, you turned on the faucet, letting the water flow until it reached the perfect temperature—neither too hot nor too cold. Cupping your hands, you allowed the clear stream to cascade over your fingers, a gentle touch against your skin.

As the water pooled in your palms, you brought it to your face, splashing it with gentle force. Each drop that landed on your skin carried with it a whisper of relief, a momentary respite from the turmoil within. You repeated the ritual, each splash washing away a fraction of the panic that had overwhelmed you.

With each touch of the water, you felt a sense of renewal. It was as if the pure liquid carried not only physical cleansing but also a soothing balm for your troubled mind. The weight of the panic began to lift, replaced by a glimmer of calmness that danced within your soul.

After the final splash, you reached for a soft towel, its fibres caressing your sensitive skin. With delicate motions, you patted your face, the material absorbing the remaining droplets and leaving a sense of comfort in its wake. As you dried yourself, you focused on the rhythmic motion, finding solace in the simple act of self-care.

Once your face was cleansed and dry, you looked at your reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at you was a survivor—a testament to your strength and resilience. The panic attack may have shaken you, but it did not define you. You were stronger than the storm that tried to break you.

Someone ringing at your ring doorbell snapped you out of your slight daze and had you turning your head towards the bathroom door.

Your guests had finally arrived.

Taking a small breath, you walked out of the bathroom, out of your bedroom and down the stairs and made your way towards the front door.

Harry had no idea who was coming today, he thought it was his family but boy was he wrong.

You invited his closest friends, Louis, Zayn, Liam, and Niall, along with their kids, to join in the festivities.

It was going to be a good day.

On your way to the front door you fixed yourself in the floor length mirror located by the door and pushed some of your hair out of your face, before pressing your hand against the handle and opening it up to see all their smiling faces.

It was adorable that they had all arrived together.

Opening the door, you were met with the smiling faces of Louis, holding hands with his seven-year-old son, Freddie, and Zayn, with his two-year-old daughter, Khai, perched on his hip. Liam trailed close behind, accompanied by his six-year-old son, Bear, while Niall stood beside his girlfriend, Amelia, wearing a grin from ear to ear.

"Surprise!" Niall exclaimed, excitement evident in his voice. "Happy Father's Day, Harry!

You looked over your shoulder at your husband who was with Charley. “— H, look who it is!”

Harry, who had been playing with Charley in the living room, turned his head at the sound of your voice. He entered the hallway, his eyes widening with astonishment as he took in the unexpected sight of his friends and their kids.

"Hey, mate! Happy Father's Day!" Louis greeted Harry, giving him a friendly pat on the back.

Harry's face lit up, his surprise transforming into pure joy. "You guys! I had no idea you were coming! This is amazing!"

Freddie, eager to join in the excitement, tugged at Harry's shirt. "Uncle Harry, we're here for the party! Are you gonna play superheroes with us?"

Harry chuckled, lifting Charley onto his hip. "Absolutely, Freddie! We'll save the day together!"

Zayn grinned, handing Khai over to Liam so he could give Harry a warm hug. "Mate, we wouldn't miss this for the world. Happy Father's Day! And trust me, our kids are gonna keep us on our toes today."

Liam, with Bear at his side, playfully nudged Harry. "You're in for some serious dad competition, my friend. Bear here is already strategizing for the water balloon fight."

Niall chimed in, wrapping his arm around Amelia's waist. "Happy Father's Day, Harry! We thought we'd come and celebrate with the best dad we know. Plus, we brought some goodies!"

Harry's eyes gleamed with gratitude as he took in the warm wishes from his friends. "Thank you all so much. This means the world to me. And Charley here is in for a treat with all these little friends to play with!"

Today was going to be a good day.

▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌ ▕ ▌║ ▊ ┃ ▌▕

The backyard was filled with the joyful sounds of laughter and conversation. You took a moment to step away from the festivities and went to the outdoor bar to mix a refreshing drink for yourself. As you poured the liquid into a glass, you felt a tug on your shirt.

Looking down, you saw Freddie, the son of Louis, standing beside you, his eyes filled with concern. "Hey there, Freddie," you greeted him with a smile. "What's up?"

Freddie fidgeted slightly, then spoke in a soft voice. "Charley is crying. He wants you."

Your heart melted at Freddie's words. You put down the drink and followed him, eager to tend to Charley's needs. As you made your way through the crowd, you reached your son, who was sitting on a picnic blanket with tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

Kneeling down, you enveloped Charley in a comforting hug. "Hey, sweetheart. What's the matter?"

Charley hiccupped, sniffling. "Mommy, I want milk."

You smiled, understanding his request. "Alright, Charley. Let's go somewhere quiet, just you and me."

Scooping Charley into your arms, you made your way upstairs, finding a peaceful space where you could nurse him.

You settled into the comfortable rocking chair, feeling a sense of calm and connection wash over you. As you adjusted your position, Charley looked up at you, his tiny hand reaching for your chest.

"Mommy, milk?" Charley asked, his voice filled with innocence and longing.

You smiled, recognizing the familiar request. "Of course, my love. We can have some quiet time together."

When it came to breastfeeding your little Charley, you and Harry agreed that you wouldn’t stop breastfeeding until he decided to stop himself. You wanted Charley to wean himself, you didn’t want to force him to stop when he ultimately didn’t want to.

Charley snuggled closer, his little fingers tracing patterns on your arm. As you guided him to your breast, the room filled with a peaceful silence, save for the soft sounds of breathing and the rhythmic swaying of the chair.

Charley latched on, and you could feel his gentle sucking, a reminder of the incredible bond between mother and child. The world around you seemed to fade away as you focused on this precious moment shared between the two of you.

Charley's eyes met yours, his gaze filled with warmth and comfort. "Mommy, I love you," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You kissed the top of his head, the words melting your heart. "I love you too, my sweet Charley. More than words can express."

The room filled with a serene ambiance as you continued to breastfeed, the soft rhythm of his swallowing bringing a sense of peace and contentment. Time seemed to stand still as you embraced the simplicity and beauty of this intimate connection.

You stayed rubbing soft circles onto his back as he continued to suck on your nipple, Beverly thing was peaceful until a foul smell made its way into your nose.

Chuckling softly, you whispered to Charley, "Oh, little one, it seems we have one more task to tackle."

You tapped his diaper clad bum through the material of his overalls and watched as he unlatched from your breast, a clear indication that he was finished eating and giggled, head thrown back slightly.

Charley giggled, his laughter filling the room. "Di-di!" he replied, pointing to his bottom.

You nodded, reaching for the wipes and fresh diaper. "That's right, Charley. Let's get you all cleaned up."

As you began to remove Charley's soiled diaper, he kicked his little legs in excitement. "Tickle, Mommy!" he squealed.

Gently tickling his tummy, you joined in his infectious laughter. "Tickle, tickle! You're such a funny little one, Charley."

As you wiped away the mess with care, Charley's curiosity got the better of him. "What's that, Mommy?" he asked, pointing to the diaper rash cream.

"This is some special cream, Charley," you explained, showing him the tube. "It helps to keep your skin nice and protected."

Charley nodded with wide eyes, clearly intrigued. "Skin nice!" he repeated, mimicking your words.

With the old diaper disposed of and Charley's bottom all cleaned up, you unfolded a fresh diaper and expertly slipped it under him. Charley couldn't resist reaching for the tabs, eager to help. "Me do it!" he exclaimed proudly.

You smiled, allowing him to try and fasten the diaper himself. "Good job, Charley! You're becoming such a big boy."

Charley beamed with pride, his little hands fumbling with the tabs. "Big boy!" he repeated, pleased with his accomplishment.

Once the diaper was securely fastened, you scooped Charley into your arms and peppered his cheeks with kisses. "All done, my little love," you said, cuddling him close. "You're clean and fresh again."

Once he was all clean, the two of you made your way back down stairs and made your way into the garden, a smile appearing on your face as you saw all your friends and family having their own conversations in the garden.

Charley was set upon the floor and within seconds he was racing towards his Aunt Gemma, Nana Anne and Grandpa Des, who must have arrived when the two of you were up stairs.

Making your way over to where Amelia was sitting, you plonked yourself down in one of the chairs at the outdoor dining table and offered her a smile.

The two of you shared a comfortable patio set, sipping on refreshing drinks and immersed in conversation.

Amelia smiled warmly, her eyes filled with genuine interest. "So, how's everything going with your family? I heard you and Harry were considering moving to a new place?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your drink. "Yes, we've been thinking about finding a new home, one that fits our growing family. Charley is getting bigger by the day, and we want to create a space where he can flourish."

Amelia leaned in, her voice filled with curiosity. "That sounds exciting! Have you found any potential houses yet?"

You looked around the lush garden, your eyes scanning the playful scene before you. Harry was engaged in a lively game of football with Charley, Louis, Freddie, Zayn, Khai, Liam, Bear, and Niall. Laughter and shouts filled the air, mingling with the clashing of soccer balls.

"Well, not yet," you replied, a smile tugging at your lips. "But with all these wonderful friends and family around, it's hard not to feel at home. We've created a little community right here."

Amelia's gaze followed yours, and she chuckled. "You're absolutely right. It's heartwarming to see everyone coming together like this. Speaking of which, how has your relationship with Harry been lately?"

You took a moment to watch Harry, his face beaming with joy as he played with Charley and the rest of the group. "Harry has been an amazing partner and father," you said, your voice filled with adoration. "He's always there for us, and seeing him with Charley, it fills my heart with so much love and gratitude."

Amelia nodded, a soft smile on her face. "That's beautiful. Niall is the same way with me. I couldn't ask for a better partner. We've been through so much together, and his love and support mean the world to me."

As your conversation continued, you noticed Anne, Harry's mother, walking towards the garden. She carried a tray of freshly baked cookies, her face radiant with happiness. Behind her trailed Gemma, Harry's sister, and Desmond, his father.

Anne's eyes sparkled as she approached, her voice filled with warmth. "Hello, dears! I couldn't resist bringing some treats for everyone. It's lovely to see you all enjoying the day."

Gemma and Desmond joined the gathering, their smiles mirroring Anne's joy. The garden became alive with laughter and conversations, a true celebration of family and friendship.

You turned back to Amelia, both of you taking in the beautiful scene. "We're truly blessed, aren't we?" you mused, your voice filled with gratitude. "To have such incredible people in our lives, to witness these precious moments... It's a reminder of how fortunate we are."

Amelia nodded, her eyes shining with appreciation. "Absolutely. These moments, the love we share, are the foundation that makes life meaningful. I'm so grateful for the connection we all have."

With Anne and Gemma bidding their goodbyes and returning inside, the atmosphere shifted slightly, creating a more intimate setting between you and Amelia. The sound of children's laughter and the occasional thud of the football being kicked provided a comforting backdrop to your conversation.

Amelia took a sip of her drink before turning to you with a mischievous grin. "So, have you and Harry been considering any exciting plans for the future? Any big adventures or dreams you're pursuing?"

You chuckled, a spark of excitement igniting within you. "Funny you should ask! Harry and I have actually been discussing the idea of building our own little dream house. We've been searching for the perfect plot of land and envisioning what our ideal home would look like."

That was true, you and Harry had lived in your current London house for just over seven years together now, two years as a family and the other month, you had both shared a conversation about wanting to potentially expand the family and move house some time in the future.

You remember when you told Harry that you wanted to expand your family and the look on his face was priceless.

As the moon cast a soft glow through the bedroom window, you lay in bed next to your husband, Harry, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. There was something on your mind, something you had been contemplating for a while, and tonight felt like the right time to share it.

It was one of those quiet nights when deep conversations seemed to find their way to the surface, and you knew it was the perfect moment to share the thoughts that had been swirling in your mind.

Turning towards Harry, you mustered up the courage to speak your heart. "Harry, I've been thinking a lot lately, and I want to talk to you about something important."

His eyes met yours, his face reflecting a mixture of curiosity and anticipation. "What is it, love? You know you can tell me anything."

Taking a deep breath, you gazed into his eyes, finding solace in his unwavering support. "I want us to have another baby, Harry. I know we have busy schedules, with your touring and album projects, but I can't help but feel the longing to expand our family."

A brief moment of surprise flickered across Harry's face, quickly followed by a cascade of emotions—joy, contemplation, and a hint of concern. His voice was filled with tenderness as he reached for your hand. "Love, that's a beautiful desire, and I understand how important it is to you. Our family means everything to me, and the thought of giving Charley a sibling fills my heart with warmth."

You couldn't help but notice the genuine reflection in his eyes, the way he processed the idea with care. It meant the world to you that he took your feelings to heart.

"But, love," he continued, a touch of uncertainty lacing his words, "I can't deny the demands that come with my career. The touring, the studio time—it can be a whirlwind at times. I want to be there for you and our family as much as I can, but I worry about the balance between my work and family life."

You squeezed his hand, offering him reassurance and understanding. "Harry, I appreciate your honesty, and I understand that your career is a big part of who you are. The fact that you're willing to have this conversation and consider the possibility speaks volumes about your dedication as a husband and a father."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his gaze filled with gratitude. "Thank you, love. It means a lot to me that you see my perspective. I want to be present for our family, to create a nurturing environment, and I'll do my best to strike that balance between my passion and our family life."

His words resonated deep within your heart, affirming the strength of your partnership. Together, you were ready to face the challenges that lay ahead.

You leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "Harry, I know it won't always be easy, but I believe in us. We've overcome obstacles before, and with open communication, love, and support, we'll navigate this journey together. We'll find a way to make it work."

You had been looking online for houses around the current area you were in as you didn’t want to live too far from home, but there had been a few lots that you had seen where you could build on.

Created The Styles Dream House.

Amelia's eyes widened with intrigue. "That sounds amazing! Tell me more. What kind of house are you envisioning?"

You leaned in, your voice filled with enthusiasm. "We want a cosy yet spacious home with lots of natural light and a touch of rustic charm. A place where we can create beautiful memories with our family and friends. We've even started looking into eco-friendly features and a garden where we can grow our own fruits and vegetables."

Amelia's excitement mirrored your own. "That sounds like a dream come true! It's wonderful that you and Harry are envisioning a space that reflects your values and allows you to live harmoniously with nature. I can already imagine the warm gatherings and laughter-filled evenings that will take place there."

You nodded, a sense of anticipation bubbling within you. "Exactly! We want it to be a haven for our loved ones—a place where they can feel welcome and cherished. We've been gathering inspiration, creating mood boards, and sharing ideas. It's such an exciting time."

Amelia leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. "It's incredible how our dreams evolve as we go through different stages of life. I remember when Niall and I used to talk about travelling the world, exploring new cultures and experiences. Now, our dreams are centred around creating a stable and nurturing home for our little one."

You nodded in understanding, recognizing the ebb and flow of dreams and priorities. "Life has a way of shifting our focus, doesn't it? But it's a beautiful evolution. Our dreams adapt and align with the chapters we're living, bringing us joy and fulfilment in unexpected ways."

It wasn’t long before the barbecue was ready.

As the delicious aroma of grilled food wafted through the air, you all gathered around the picnic table, ready to enjoy the Father's Day feast. Freddie, Louis' enthusiastic son, proudly held his little notebook and went around, taking everyone's food orders.

Freddie approached Anne with a big smile. "What would you like, Grandma Anne?" he asked, pen poised over the notebook.

Anne chuckled affectionately. "Hmm, I'll have a juicy burger with all the fixings, please. And make it extra special, just like my son here," she said, playfully nudging Harry.

Harry laughed and nodded. "You got it, Mum. One special burger coming right up!"

Freddie moved on to Gemma, who raised an eyebrow teasingly. "What's on the menu for me, young man?"

Freddie grinned mischievously. "Well, Auntie Gemma, I think you need something spicy to match your fiery personality. How about some tangy chicken skewers?"

Gemma pretended to fan herself dramatically. "Oh, Freddie, you know me so well! Chicken skewers it is."

Next, Freddie turned his attention to the rest of the guests. "Alright, Liam, what can I get for you and Bear?"

Liam ruffled Bear's hair affectionately. "We'll have some mouthwatering ribs, Freddie. And don't forget the barbecue sauce!"

Freddie scribbled down the order and moved on to Zayn. "Hey, Uncle Zayn, what's your pick?"

Zayn smiled at his daughter, Khai, who was playing with her toys nearby. "Khai and I will share some tasty grilled vegetables, Freddie. We're keeping it healthy."

Freddie nodded approvingly and wrote down the order. He then approached Niall and Amelia, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "Niall, Amelia, what can I put down for you?"

Niall grinned. "I'll take a juicy steak, Freddie, cooked medium-rare, please. And Amelia, what would you like?"

Amelia pondered for a moment. "I'll have a grilled chicken salad, please. Light and refreshing."

Freddie eagerly noted down the orders and made his way back to Harry, who was tending to the grill. "Dad, I've got all the orders ready. You're doing an awesome job, by the way!"

Harry beamed with pride. "Thanks, buddy. You've been a great little helper today."

As the food sizzled on the grill, you joined Charley at the table, helping him cut up his hot dog into bite-sized pieces. Charley's eyes widened with anticipation as he watched the food being prepared.

"Mummy, is it ready yet?" he asked eagerly.

You smiled and nodded. "Almost, sweetheart. Just a few more minutes, and then you can have your yummy dinner."

Finally, Harry brought the platter of grilled delights to the table, and everyone's eyes lit up with delight. The air was filled with appreciative murmurs and exclamations of hunger.

Anne took a bite of her burger and savored the flavors. "Harry, darling, you've truly outdone yourself. This burger is absolutely divine."

Harry blushed modestly. "Thanks, Mum. I'm glad you like it."

As everyone dug into their meals, the table came alive with lively conversations. Gemma shared a funny anecdote from Harry's childhood, causing peals of laughter to fill the air.

"Remember that time Harry got stuck in the treehouse?" Gemma exclaimed, pointing at Harry. "We had to call Dad to come and rescue him!"

Desmond chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah,those were the days. Harry always had a knack for finding adventure, even in the simplest of places."

Louis raised his burger, playfully imitating a toast. "To Harry, the ultimate treehouse explorer!"

Everyone joined in, raising their glasses and laughing heartily. Harry blushed but couldn't hide his wide grin.

Amelia turned to Niall, nudging him playfully. "Do you remember the time you and Harry tried to build a secret hideout in the backyard? It ended up looking like a pile of sticks!"

Niall chuckled, a fond twinkle in his eyes. "Oh, how could I forget? We were convinced it was the best hideout ever. But let's just say our architectural skills were lacking."

The table erupted in laughter, the shared memories creating an atmosphere of warmth and camaraderie. Conversations flowed freely, intertwining stories from the past with plans for the future.

Between bites, Liam leaned over to Zayn, teasing him good-naturedly. "Hey, Zayn, remember when we used to prank each other relentlessly? Those were some epic battles!"

Zayn smirked, reminiscing. "Oh, Liam, the pranks we pulled on tour were legendary. The fake spiders, the disappearing clothes—I still have scars from some of your tricks!"

Liam chuckled, his eyes gleaming mischievously. "Well, mate, it was all in good fun. Besides, those pranks brought us closer together."

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the gathering, Harry's dad, Desmond, raised his glass, his voice filled with nostalgia. "To all the fathers here, both present and in our hearts. May we continue to cherish and nurture the beautiful bonds we share with our children."

The clinking of glasses resonated through the air, and everyone raised their voices in agreement, expressing their gratitude for the fathers in their lives.

As the conversation continued to flow, Charley tugged at your sleeve, his eyes sparkling. "Mummy, look! I cut my food all by myself!"

You beamed with pride and pulled him into a gentle hug. "Well done, Charley! You're such a big boy now."

Charley giggled and took another bite, feeling a sense of accomplishment. The table became a symphony of laughter, stories, and the clinking of cutlery, each voice adding to the melody of love and togetherness.

The evening wore on, and as the last rays of sunlight faded, a sense of contentment settled over the gathering. Plates were cleared, and desserts were served—a sweet finale to a memorable Father's Day celebration.

As you sat there, surrounded by loved ones, laughter echoing in the air, you couldn't help but reflect on the joy that filled your heart. Father's Day had become a testament to the strength of the bonds forged through love and shared experiences.

In that moment, amidst the conversations and laughter, you realized that it wasn't just the food that nourished the soul—it was the presence of family and friends, the stories and memories woven into every bite, that made the celebration truly special.

And as the night sky sparkled with stars, you glanced at Harry, his smile radiant, knowing that this Father's Day would forever be etched in your hearts as a day of love, laughter, and cherished moments with those who mattered most.

You turned towards your husband, whose grey tank top was now removed from his body due to the body heat and was sitting next to you with a blissed smile etched into his facial features.

You linked your hands together, the feeling of his wedding ring cooling down your skin ever so slightly. “— Happy Father’s Day, H.”

“Thank you m’love,”he turned towards you, leaning forward ever so slightly and nudged his nose against yours, forgetting everyone else that was around you. It was as if it was just the two of you. “— you made me a father, and for that, I’ll forever be grateful.”

Happy Fathers Day Everyone.

401 notes · View notes

ramayantika · 1 year

Text

Hi i had a book idea once for Satybhama. The wip has been abandoned since 2021 but here you go. I wrote this in 2021.

The Great War is over. My husband, Krishna, has left the earth. Dwarka has sunk, and my sons and grandsons have perished in the civil war. Some of my sister queens have jumped into the fire and the rest have busied themselves in meditation in various corners of this forest where I live. I can’t find them though.

Tall trees and thick bushes are the only things my eyes can see around. There is absolutely no human living beside me or in my vicinity. Here, the only edible items are fruits and tubers, which taste heavenly. Some years before, I would have grimaced at the mere thought of living on fruits in a forest due to my upbringing and royal status. It never fails to amaze me how time changes everything. A city once ruled by a tyrant is brought down and a city built by the finest of architects gets submerged under a sea getting lost to time and history forever. Time is indeed the ultimate killer. No one can escape it.

I am currently sitting under a Neelmohar tree. Maybe it is their growing season, for the tree is filled with purple flowers. Many of them are lying near my feet. I pick one and gently rub my thumb across one of its petals. The colour reminds me of my purple saree, which Krishna had gifted me, and the flower’s softness reminds me of the saree’s beautiful texture. The saree must be in the seabed now, drifting along the sea-waves. Bhadra loved that saree and would shower me with compliments whenever I wore it.

Dwarka — my second home, where I have spent almost all my life, now lies under the sea, hidden from sight. The once tall buildings where I once walked, the beautiful gardens where Krishna and I spent some lovely times, the archery room which Krishna had specifically built for me, everything now exists in my brain like an old dream. I do not remember how much time has passed since Krishna’s death and the submerging of Dwarka. All the time that I have spent in this forest has been devoted to contemplation about my life.

What is there to contemplate about my life? Do I contemplate about the riches I was brought up with? Do I think about the domestic tensions of my household? Do I wonder about the coming Kali Yuga?

There is so much to think about. What did I do in my life? What will happen once my soul leaves my body? Will someone mourn for me? Will I find Krishna smiling with his perfect rosy lips and pearly teeth in the afterlife? Is there even something beyond death? Wise men say that death is not the end, is it not? These are philosophical questions that Krishna would have answered had he been with me here. Now as I am talking to you, I wonder about my memories which appear in front of my eyes as if belonging to an old dream.

I see my childhood self, running on the corridors of my father’s home with my friends. The scene changes where I find myself aged a little older — I am probably fifteen there, I think. There is a bow in my hand and I am assessing the target ahead. Once again, the scene changes and I can see a marriage ceremony followed by the war and the end of Dwarka. But memories resurface again as if asking to look beyond the mundane. I can hear a voice inside me, whispering, ‘There is more to your story; you must go through it all.’

Now I see something else. There is my father’s house standing tall and proud, and a little girl is playing in the mud while looking at the flower bushes in wonder. I see my mother in a temple where I ask about the goddess Durga. My childhood memory flutters away and my teenaged form arrives. I am young, curious and hot-headed. I am travelling alone in Mathura where I see the exact condition of the people residing. It is pathetic. I see myself now as a wedded woman in the kitchen chatting happily with my sister queens about the day. Now I see my lord, my Krishna, putting flowers in my hair while we talk about the sea. He says, ‘Water when demure nourishes the land, bringing us delight and when water turns wild and frightening, it shall engulf all leaving not even remains behind.’

I realize everything. My life’s story does not start with archery, nor does it end with Dwarka. It starts with me being a curious child trying to understand nature and men, and my story is still incomplete.

“Who am I, mother?” I had raised this question once when I stared into a mirror for a long time, finding my reflection slightly different. I realize I never found the answer.

Who am I now? Who shall answer me?

My mother once told me that there are some questions whose answers lie within our hearts. One must introspect over it and they shall find the answer that has been hiding in their heart all along.

I can feel my heartbeat quicken its pace. My mind is busy with its chain of memories arranging themselves haphazardly. Each incident whispers its lessons to my ears and I feel overwhelmed. I want to share my thoughts with someone. Do you want to listen to me?

I will cease to exist after some time. Historians, poets, and scribes will write stories about me that will be read and heard by people across the world. Fame isn’t my concern nor my desire, for I have had a good share of it. The only thing that concerns me is will the Satyabhama in their scripts be me? How much of my life will they write about? What will they include and exclude? How much of my actions will be overdramatized if by any chance someone gains enough liberty to do so? My life story can even turn into a mythical story, and only I would know that I once existed in bones and muscles.

So before you read and hear about me, I want you to hear me speak about my life, Satyabhama’s life. Here, I promise you that I shall present my story with complete honesty. Satyabhama is my name, which means ‘beaming with truth.’ I promise to be true to myself and you.

Would you like to hear?

This is how it begins…

Taglist: @jessbeinme15 @swayamev @just-another-godless-god @merapehlapyaarwaapasaagaya @pokemon-master-elita @svapnakalpa-mareechi @ma-douce-souffrance @eugenephosgene @savlon-bhoi @arachneofthoughts @reallythoughtfulwizard

#krishnablr #satyabhama #Dwaraka #mahabharata #indian fics #stories

31 notes · View notes

adamwatchesmovies · 2 months

Text

John Wick (2014)

John Wick takes a familiar story and makes it its own. The film refines the revenge genre to its bare essentials and then fills the room that's been freed with its own mythology. With wicked gunplay and stunts, it’s hard to tell if the people who made it knew they were starting a new franchise or if it was the critical and commercial success it gathered that made this more than a one-and-done.

Ex-assassin John Wick (Keanu Reeves) is mourning his wife, who just died. He’s got nothing left to lose, except for his car and her last gift: a puppy. When some thugs who have no business messing with him do so, they unleash a world of pain on themselves, their subordinates and anyone associated with them.

We’ve seen countless paths of revenge that begin with a home invasion that leaves the (usually, but not always) male protagonist mourning the loss of their spouse and/or family. Writing the future victims’ dialogue must be extra challenging because you want to convey that they’re special without investing too much time in their scenes - the sooner they’re dead, the sooner the story can begin. Intentionally or not, this can make the spouses/family feel like they're merely props to advance the story. Writer Derek Kolstad takes this idea to such a minimalistic extreme I’m not even sure if it can be called problematic anymore. Helen (Bridget Moynahan) is already dead when the movie begins. What sets John on his rampage is the puppy she’s given him. When Iosef Tarasov (Alfie Allen) kills it, he transforms into the most shootable face on earth.

Once the bullets start flying, it’s a delectable buffet of violence. It isn’t merely that John Wick kills all of the goons in his path, it’s that he does with ruthless efficiency. There are no quips or jokes. The odds are massively stacked against him but he keeps going, always making the kills clean and efficient. Someone will get a bullet in the chest, and another in the head to make sure they’re dead. Every move feels calculated, optimized. You can tell he’s been through this carousel before and it doesn’t take him long to get back into the swing of things.

There’s plenty of talk between the Russian mobsters about the fact that John is “Baba Yaga” and “The man you send in to kill the boogeyman” but the film excels at showing rather than telling. A perfect example is a scene in which John and one of his assailants are fighting. Briefly, they’re separated by a thin wall. Realizing who’s on the other side, the Russian turns around and fires at shoulder level. Meanwhile, John ducks and shoots up at a 45 degree angle.

Numerous or not, the men employed by Iosef’s father, Viggo Tarasov (Michael Nywvist), would need to have an exceptionally good day to stand a chance against John. More likely to take him down are the myriad of other assassins we meet during the film - all members of an elaborate secret organization living among us. There’s a lot more going on here than a violent fantasy. John Wick is set in a world of rules and side-branches. There are cleaning services to dispose of bodies, special currency, elaborate communication systems, safe havens, special medical services and more. The taste this movie gives you makes you eager for more.

The only significant criticism I have is directed towards the dialogue, which can occasionally make the film feel a little more self-important than it actually is. No matter. Director Chad Stahelski has made a stylish action film with its own identity. It’s fast-pasted. The action scenes are memorable. So are the characters. Keanu Reeves is excellent in the role. In fact, he was made for it (or it for him, whichever). You can tell he’s doing most if not all of the stunts, which allows you to feel the impact of every bullet and beating. You're excited to see more once John Wick is done. (December 3, 2021)

#John Wick #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Chad Stahelski #Derek Kolstad #Keanu Reeves #Michael Nyqvist #Alfie Allen #Adrianne Palicki #Bridget Moynahan #Dean Winters #ian McShane #John Leguizamo #Willem Dafoe #2014 movies #2014 films

3 notes · View notes

spacecadetomoly · 2 years

Text

Matsuno Family Diary! Part 3: Christmas time with Jyushimatsu! (Unofficial English Translation)

The following is an unofficial English translation of an official short story released online for members of the official Osomatsu-san fan club. If you want to read the original Japanese version of the story or enjoy the other things the fan club offers it’s members please consider joining: https://osomatsusan-fc.com/ In the room of the Matsuno family sextuplets there is a notebook hidden away behind a bookshelf. This notebook exists so that the brothers may, should they so choose, express the deep feelings and profound thoughts which weigh upon their hearts and minds so heavily that they can no longer be contained. It seems that today someone’s hand is once again turning the pages…. December 24th 2021, Jyushimatsu

Tomorrow is Christmas! So I decided to become Santa and give everyone gifts! Except, you can't get presents unless you're good. You’re not allowed to be naughty! I’ll try and explain the problem: Osomatsu niisan is not a good boy because he farted in his futon last night (let's be careful!) Karamatsu niisan is not a good boy because he used the money he earned from winning at pachinko to buy tacky clothes (let's reflect on that!) Choromatsu niisan is not a good boy because the other day he kept showing me a DVD of a live idol show (people have different tastes!) Ichimatsu niisan is not a good boy because he didn't go to batting practice with me today (I'll go with him tomorrow!) Totty is not a good boy because when I was pretending to be a dog, he made eye contact with me but still ignored me (Mean! Boeh!)* So...I couldn't give any of my brothers a gift. Next, let’s look at mother and father. Mom is not a good girl because she ate all of the cake the neighbors gave her all by herself (I wish I could have eaten it too!)** Dad is not a good boy because the other night he came into our room and then sighed very loudly when he saw our sleeping faces (maybe he’s tired of seeing NEETs go to bed earlier than him!)*** And so in the end I couldn’t give anyone a gift and no one could give one to me either. Let's all work harder for next year! P.S. I didn't do the erotic book thing.

Translator's notes: *I originally had this line as “Totty is not a good boy because he refused to make eye contact with me when I was playing dog with him (Awful! Woof!)” but I wasn’t sure if that was right so I put out an open call for help with the translation and Cinnanom Roll (https://cinnanom-roll.tumblr.com/) was able to translate the raw Japanese text into this much better line. Thank you so much Cinnanom Roll! And if anyone else wants to help me out in the future and take a look at the original text for a line just DM me the line you want to try retranslating. I really do appreciate any help I can get I seriously have no idea what I’m doing. ** I strongly disagree with Jyushimatsu here. Matsuyo did nothing wrong, she fully deserved to eat every crumb of cake and share nothing with her lazy sons. *** Matsuzo also did nothing wrong. He works full time to support six twenty somethings; He’s allowed to sigh about that every once in a while, he’s earned that right. Welp, looks like Christmas was a bust in the Matsuno household. Maybe things will get for everyone in the new year? Up Next: Todomatsu goes to a party!

#osomatsu san #mr osomatsu #jyushimatsu #matsuno family diary #todomatsu #translations

73 notes · View notes

changterhune · 5 months

Text

ATTACK OF THE NEW NOVEL!!!

I started a new novel about a week ago and no one is more surprised than I.

For starters I’ve not been focused on writing of late. Most of my free time has been devoted to art or music. Some writing but only on existing stuff like the mythical 4th issue of Bunnyhead, a horror novel and writing for Igloo Magazine.

The main reason though has been due to my chronic clinical depression. Yes, I’m an artist suffering from depression. Ain’t that a surprise? But seriously I have it and it’s been better and worse depending on the time of day you ask. Heh. But it’s real and for whatever reason I’ve not been too interested in it frankly.

The pandemic was what kicked off my dry spell. My father’s death in late 2021 flattened me and I’ve spent the better part of the last two years grieving and recovering. Writing seemed to be the hardest thing to do in that period. Story ideas came and went but few made me feel like they needed to be written down. It was low on the list of priorities. I’ve been more focused on music of late so writing wasn’t where the muse went to either gift me or shit on me depending on how you look at it.

About two weeks ago though a funny thing happened. I’d been thinking about a character in the horror novel I’m working on (sporadically I admit). And I had a revelation about them after wondering about that age old question one ponders when they write fiction: what makes this guy tick.

Then all of a sudden it clicked, this thing that I’d been wrestling with suddenly came together. I wrote several thousand words of diary entries for them and they held up under the fierce scrutiny of the morning after. I edited, wrote more, edited again and wrote more. It was a good work and I looked forward to more.

A couple nights later I was watching tv with my wife and out of nowhere this idea hit me. I was surprised because it was later in the night and I was thinking more about sleep than anything else. But the idea stuck in my head. I tossed it over a bit as one does when this happens, wondering if it had legs or not. So I did what I often do and wrote some notes, basic premise and rough outline.

I did go to bed kind of excited because it had been so long since a story. The next morning it seemed good enough to write so I sat down and started typing. First chapter emerged pretty easily considering the writing muscles in the brain hadn’t worked in a while so there was some awakening of those. But the words came and after a bit I’d enough to write out a rough general outline of beginning middle and end then some more for a possible second book.

Well then…

As I said no one is more surprised than I. The detail will remain with me for a while until it’s time. But writing’s continued apace and will until it’s either done or I’m sick of it.

Next I’ll say about it you’ll either hear I’ve got a book deal or I’m self-publishing it.

Until then stay away from the demons unless they’ve got pizza.

2 notes · View notes

fangirleaconmigo · 1 year

Text

It is not lost on me that I've consistently posted Witcher content for several years, slowly and lovingly and painstakingly building a Witcher community, that I've written over a half million words for the witcher fandom AND YET my biggest post of all is an Our Flag Means Death text post that took me about thirty seconds to write. lmaoooo. This is life.

Ok, here goes:

I posted 2,005 times in 2022

That's 1,009 more posts than 2021!

625 posts created (31%)

1,380 posts reblogged (69%)

Blogs I reblogged the most: (apparently my self rb's are being called out, here, but look, I gotta let people know I wrote a fic. Also, hiii blogs I rb a lot)

@fangirleaconmigo

@roughentumble

@witcherladiesamirite

@on-a-lucky-tide

@samstree

I tagged 1,939 of my posts in 2022

Only 3% of my posts had no tags

#the witcher - 1,343 posts

#jaskier - 580 posts

#geralt of rivia - 551 posts

#geraskier - 351 posts

#asks - 279 posts

#yennefer of vengerberg - 236 posts

#the witcher books - 186 posts

#cirilla fiona elen riannon - 147 posts

#dandelion - 123 posts

#eskel - 118 posts

Longest Tag: 120 characters

#half the maidens in the front row throw their underthings at him while he’s still covered in viscera and crocodile tears

My Top Posts in 2022:

There are a lot of fics in the fandom where Jaskier is a concubine or bed warmer and is gifted to Geralt (usually warlord Geralt) and that becomes his path to freedom and love. Some of them are among the best fics in the fandom. One of them is one of my favorite fics ever.

But I do get to thinking...

Men who are physically strong and skilled in combat (like Geralt) can also be exploited. In fact, physical power is one of the most limited forms of power, and witchers are exploited and oppressed in canon. And by the same token, men who can't wield a weapon (like Jaskier), can be very powerful if they are born into the correct family.

So. What if we flip their roles in the narrative? (I'm sure there are flipped fics out there, but I'm going to spin my own idea for a minute.) Alright. Here we go. My idea for Prince Jaskier/Gladiator Geralt.

CW for references to past sexual abuse. Do not read further if you don't want to read any references to sexual abuse. As I said, it is a reversal of the trope mentioned above, so none of the abuse is between Geralt and Jaskier, but the premise does involve servitude and abuse.

---------

Jaskier is a prince sent out on his very first diplomatic visit. He has been chosen for this task (negotiating a treaty) because he has come of age, and his father wants him to make a match with the princess. His father has managed to keep his country's economic crisis a secret, but it won't stay that way for long. If Jaskier can impress his hosts perhaps he can marry the princess, and his people will be pulled back from the brink of financial ruin.

But before Jaskier goes, his father counsels him that he will see some barbaric practices in this other country. Though this other country is wealthy and advanced technologically, it still engages in things like gladiator fights and indentured servitude. Jaskier says that he understands. He can keep his mouth shut no matter what he sees. He knows that they are counting on him.

The first day of the visit goes well. During a long session of intense negotiations, Jaskier makes a brilliant first impression, so much so that the king invites him to be the guest of honor at a gladiator fight. Jaskier does not have a stomach for violence or gore. So he downs a few goblets of wine to take the edge off and to keep himself relaxed enough to not vomit at the first sight of entrails.

Their prize gladiator is a striking, white haired warrior with mystical powers. He has an enviable streak of wins, and the people love him. Part of why they love him is because he seems to hate killing people. He will do it efficiently and well, in order to defend his life. But when they push someone out into the ring that is ill prepared or a poor match for him, he does everything he can to stall or stop the fight.

Once, the king tells Jaskier, he refused to fight and managed to convince his opponent to refuse to fight. They publicly executed several prisoners in retaliation, so now he fights. But he curses them elaborately after every win.

Instead of it weighing on their conscience, however, the audience moons over him as a noble assassin, a killer with a heart of gold. It's the irony, it's the angst. They love him. Not enough to free him of course, but they love him.

Jaskier worries he is not drunk enough for this, but he manages. As expected, the warrior wins the fight. It is a tough match against a skilled and weathered opponent. But he fights with the mesmerizing grace of a brutal dancer and he wins in a spectacular fashion. The crowd goes berserk.

Though Jaskier finds the warrior incredibly compelling, his eyes drawn to him over and over like a beacon, he is relieved as fuck that the whole thing is over. He can't wait to go back to his room and cleanse away the memory of that horrible pulsing severed carotid with maybe a song or another drink. He can't wait to have more power and ban some of these horrific practices.

But before he can get back to his room, the king makes him an offer that he is entirely unprepared for. He has taken such a liking to Jaskier that he offers to send the champion up to his room.

That is when Jaskier learns that the royal ladies (and some of the men) take great pride in partaking of the warrior after a match. It is the highest honor.

It's partly his beautiful physique. They have special clothing made up for him that resembles his armor, but offers more access. It's partly the danger and the thrill of conquering such a violent beast. They bind him and they station guards close by so he can't retaliate. But the thought that he could kill them with the twist of a wrist is part of the appeal. It is also partly the exclusivity. The entire kingdom loses their mind for this warrior, but it is only they who have access to him. It gives these wealthy, bored, royals a rare thrill.

When his host explains all of this, Jaskier's stomach drops almost to the soles of his shoes. His first instinct is to be outraged. To say no. His kingdom has done away with bed warmers and...well...sex slaves, really. He has been brought up to believe that ravaging someone, anyone, is a base, cruel, horrible thing to do.

So he almost says no. He almost shouts it. Frankly, he would like to slap the king across his smug beastly face. Obviously he can't do that. But he wants to. But then a thought flickers across his mind. If he says no, then this warrior will be sent to someone else. And who knows who that person will be and what they will do to him.

Jaskier feels sick to his stomach when he accepts the king's offer. He hopes his disgust isn't apparent. He tries to make it sound lusty. To his own ears, he fails at it. Besides his disgust for the idea, he is also incredibly inexperienced. If he has to feign an intimate understanding of the specifics of sex, he'll reveal himself to be the young amateur that he is.

But the king is so drunken and self absorbed that he doesn't even notice. He claps Jaskier on the back, calls him my boy, and motions to his guards. The guards jump to attention. The king points down to the arena at the warrior. The warrior is slick with sweat and blood and grime. He is quietly cleaning his sword with a far away look on his face. The cheers of the crowd weigh on him.

Just then, the warrior looks up at Jaskier. His golden eyes feel like a punch to the solar plexus. He sees what is happening. He knows who is being conferred the honor of his body tonight.

Jaskier wants to mouth an apology. To explain himself. Of course he can't. They are too far apart and there is too much noise between them. Besides. Jaskier is currently pretending to be into this. But his eyes slide away guiltily. He feels queasy and he is regretting the wine right about now.

The king asks Jaskier if he wants the warrior grimy or clean. They can bathe him before they send him up, or they can just walk him up as he is, for a more authentic experience. Jaskier feels a cold fury bubbling inside. He shoves it down. He says to send him as he is. Jaskier will draw a bath in his own room and give the gladiator privacy.

The king makes a crude joke about Jaskier liking it dirty, and he almost bites through his tongue in order to hold it. He tastes copper.

Soon, Jaskier is alone in his room, pacing the marble floors, clenching and unclenching his fists. He is deep in concentration, trying to figure out how to play this. When the guards bring the warrior, will they leave? Or will they insist on staying close by? How will Jaskier hide his true intentions from them? Whatever they see, they will undoubtedly report to the king.

Jaskier chews his bottom lip and whispers to himself, practicing what he will say to the warrior if he can get them alone.

You'll be safe tonight.

You don't have to do anything.

Would you like to bathe yourself? I won't look.

See the full post

1,850 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

Geralt, who has lost his swords: I need those specific swords back.

Dandelion: Oh, just buy new ones.

Geralt: Oh rly and what if someone took your lute?

Dandelion: OH GOD WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT IS SOMEONE LOOKING AT MY LUTE OH SHIT WHAT HAVE YOU HEARD NO ONE LOOK AT MY LUTE YOU FUCKERS*covers lute with body like a human shield*

😂😂 they are hilarious. Also, Geralt saying he feels like a snail without a shell is adorable.

1,924 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

Ok let's play a game called:

I Can't Believe It's Not Fanon.

Otherwise known as...

Witcher facts that sound like Geraskier fic writers made them up, but that are, in fact, book canon.

PART ONE:

We've all read the fics where bad guys kidnap Jaskier in order to get to get to Geralt. These bad guys always regret it when Geralt slaughters every single one of them.

Well, good news! In Season of Storms, starting on page 310, this very thing happens.

(TW: Violence and gore)

Geralt is attending a royal wedding and once again, powerful people are trying to get him to do something he doesn't want to do. He enters a room to find:

Dandelion was as white as a sheet and clearly terrified...He was sitting on a chair with a high backrest. Behind the chair stood a skinny character with hair combed and plaited into a queue. The character was holding a misericorde with a long, narrow, four-sided blade. The blade was pressed against the poet's neck, below his jaw, slanting upwards.

"No funny business," warned Ropp. No funny business witcher. One false move, even one twitch, and Mr Samsa will stick the minstrel like a hog. He won't hesitate."

So, these particular assholes have accurately surmised that Geralt's weakness is Dandelion. There were any number of people they could have kidnapped, but they chose the poet. Of course, they underestimate Geralt, like so many people do.

Geralt tries to warn them that this is a very very bad move.

"You're making a mistake, Ropp."

They don't listen to him. They keep going, making increasingly florid violent threats to Dandelion's safety.

"Now," said the captain..."Now you will confirm that you've understood the task and will execute it. Should you not, before I count to ten under my breath, Mr Samsa will rupture the minstrel's right eardrum...if the desired result does not ensure, Mr Samsa stabs the other ear. And will then gouge out the poet's eye. And so on, to the bitter end, which is a jab to the brain. I'm starting to count, witcher."

What does Dandelion do? Well, he's terrified but he tries to be brave.

"Don't listen to him Geralt!" Dandelion somehow managed to make a sound from his constricted throat. "They won't dare to touch me! I'm famous!"

This is hilarious and very, very Dandelion. But also, it's not entirely unreasonable. Dandelion's fame often protects him, and sometimes it protects Geralt too. However, it doesn’t seem to be doing either at the moment.

Geralt says to Mister Samsa:

"First, move that dagger away from the poet's ear."

Mister Samsa seems to think that they have succeeded and Geralt is negotiating with him, so he complies. (this guy makes one bad decision after another)

"Ha," snorted Mister Samsa, lifting the misericorde high over his head. "Is that better?"

Geralt simply answers:

"Better."

Then without another word, Geralt kills them all, violent and bloody. It is a descriptive, vividly gory passage. He slices carotid arteries and groins. One man's neck spews blood onto the chandelier and ceiling. But I find what Geralt does to Mister Samsa to be particularly significant and satisfying.

The Witcher jerked the sword from the scabbard before Ropp fell, and with one fluid movement coming out of a short spin, hacked off Samsa's raised hand. Samsa yelled and dropped to his knees.

So Geralt’s actions say...you use your hand to hold a blade to *my* poet's neck, and I will chop that motherfucker off. Let's see you do that again without a hand, you piece of shit.

It's a gory passage. I'll skip to the end. The royal instigator comes into the room to investigate and asks Geralt about the one man he has left (sort of, temporarily) alive.

The instigator examined the captain, who was lying, stretched out in a pool of urine, salivating copiously, and trembling incessantly.

See the full post

2,203 notes - Posted May 3, 2022

It’s doing bizarrely well on Twitter so I’m bringing it over here.

6,071 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Blackbeard: I’m bored as fuck and no one understands me.

Stede: *appears in a silk nightie. Is weird as all fuck* Do you want to talk about fabrics?

Blackbeard: *under breath* Fuck yes

6,280 notes - Posted April 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #the witcher

16 notes · View notes

soul-controller · 1 year

Text

Life & Patreon Update (November ‘22)

Hey there everyone, hope everyone is doing well. I’m happy to announce that my mourning hiatus is over and the blog will become active once more starting this Friday with a new request story. I look forward to posting that story along with my submission for @thegreatstoryteller’s TF Exchange the week of Christmas!

Now with that little update out of the way, here’s a quick little summary of the stuff I’ve released over on my Patreon over the past month.

In case you missed it, my Patreon has now shifted to a new subscription method. Now instead of being charged at the first of the month regardless of when you signed up, you will now be charged 30 days from your sign-up date! Hopefully this can encourage more people to sign up to read my content now that the worry of being double-charged has been eliminated.

So yes, if any of the following stories intrigue you, please feel free to click on the title so you can sign up for the appropriate tier to read it! I’d love to have you join my Patreon and my Discord community, where you can view exclusive photo captions and also request future story ideas!

Sibling Rivalry

With her father's 60th birthday coming up, novice witch Kelly is eager to give her father a better gift than her rich lawyer brother James. After deciding to create a potion that will turn her dad into a 27-year-old version of himself while also altering reality to give him a second chance at his youth. Unfortunately, James figures out what Kelly is going to do and finds himself willing to do anything to make sure that he ends up with the best present for their father...

Tags: Gender Change, Age Progression, Muscle Growth, Reality Shift

The Great Change: College-Educated to Farm-Raised (Five Years Later)

In the five years since The Great Change put 65-year-old Cyrus in the body of 18-year-old Jackson, the former college professor has gone through several changes in both body and mind. While he believes this is all due to his own choosing, the reality is that Jackson's father and friends were just gaslighting him into becoming the Jackson they once knew and loved. Will Cyrus figure out what's going on or will he become perfectly content with his new redneck life?

Tags: The Great Change, Body Swap, Racial Change, Mental Changes, Sexuality Change, Gaslighting, Post-TF

Wrestling With My New Life (Part I)

This story was created due to a patron-voted poll that was meant to help influence who my new host body would become by picking a clothing item for me to base this new body on - the wrestling singlet option was the clear winner. Although this is a two-part story, I've set it up so each part of the story includes several transformations so hopefully everyone will enjoy!

After a long month-long delay, I finally receive my Halloween costume of a wrestling singlet. Upon sharing the news to my followers about the costume finally arriving though, they quickly turn the tables on me by making me the subject of their own transformation story. After magically forcing me to livestream myself while wearing the singlet, the devoted fanbase comment their desired changes towards me one-by-one and get to witness it before their very eyes...

Tags: Shapeshift, Twinkification, Mental Changes

Before Mac Jones’ Control (Part II)

In the final part of this prequel, Henry continued to try and adapt to the new life he's been given as Nick Bosa. This time around though, the man has the obstacles of going to training camp and both fixing Nick's relationships with his teammates and actually learning how to play football! On top of this, Henry dives in deep on repairing Nick's controversial image while also taking an opportunity to check in on the real Nick who has been forced into continuing Henry's simple life as a teacher and transformation writer...

Tags: The Mac Jones Series, Athlete, Body Swap, Mental Changes

Going All-American

This story is a complete rewrite / expansion of an old Tumblr request that I wrote back in 2021. I loved the concept so I ended up turning a 2k story into something that was much more erotic and longer (now over 9k words)!

Upon randomly receiving a letter informing him of a free trip to Los Angeles to visit the set of All-American, Arthur is quite excited about meeting one of his biggest celebrity crushes - Cody Christian. After getting a rude welcome from the hunky actor though, Arthur and an intern from the show come up with a plan to teach Cody a lesson that will also allow both of their fantasies to come true...

Tags: Possession, Revenge, Celebrity

Backing The Browns (Part III)

After accidentally trading bodies with Johnny Stanton and learning that he's been cut from the Browns, Henry has to think quickly and come up with a new plan so he can actually play football. Before long, fellow Browns player and Johnny's friend Myles Garrett comes into the picture and provides the man with the perfect avenue to get back into the sport and find his permanent new body...

Tags: Body Swap, Racial Change, Athlete

#announcement #Patreon Update

16 notes · View notes

dyingroses · 2 years

Quote

Dear United States of America: You are currently using my 1985 novel The Handmaid’s Tale as the template for your own dystopia and are doing so without my authorization, thereby violating U.S. copyright law. Adopting one or two aspects of The Handmaid’s Tale to rebrand the American Dream would be considered “fair use,” but all of them? Honestly, America, I get a Google alert every time you rip off one of my ideas. My condo strata filed a noise complaint, and Hulu producers banned me from The Handmaid’s Tale season 5 set due to my phone’s incessant pinging. It took me 18 months to write this book and to develop the nightmare world of Gilead, so you’ll understand my dismay at seeing you plagiarize the following key scenarios. Restricting reproductive rights By overturning Roe v. Wade, you have adopted the central dystopian feature of The Handmaid’s Tale, namely, restricting the reproductive rights of women. Did you think I wouldn’t get wind of this? Fox News, Papa John’s app, and even Hobby Lobby’s newsletter all reported the ruling as though it was the brainchild of your Founding Fathers. America, I demand you acknowledge credit by renaming “reverse-vasectomies” as “Atwood-ectomies.” Jan. 6, 2021 coup attempt In The Handmaid’s Tale, the Sons of Jacob instigated a coup d’état against the U.S. government; and on Jan. 6, 2021, your president did the same. Initially, I was flattered that the mob’s red MAGA hats replicated the red of my handmaid’s habits. But when my lawyers informed me that “MAGA” doesn’t mean “Make America Gilead Again,” I felt duped. America, you need to acknowledge credit! At the very least I would have appreciated an invitation to shoot 18 at Mar-a-Lago or a suite at the Trump Hotel in New York City. Culture of surveillance I was sure that Gilead’s surveillance-as-a-form-of-control motif would scare the bejesus out of you. Yet in the past decade, your elected officials and tech-bros have monitored phone and internet records, personal credit histories, and period-tracking apps — and I’ve yet to receive one handwritten thank-you card. When China dialed up their national surveillance efforts, they had the courtesy to acknowledge my work as their inspiration: every Christmas, President Xi Jinping sends me a gift basket of 1,000 steamed dumplings with an open invitation to join him on an electric scooter trip along the Great Wall. He’s probably trying to get in my pants, but at least he’s doing the work. Censorship This may sound catty for mentioning censorship here, as you��ve banned The Handmaid’s Tale in libraries and schools nearly as often as any other book, but censorship is yet another aspect of totalitarian Gilead you’ve purloined as your own. This parallel between your nation and my novel is there for anyone to see (assuming they attend a school whose library allows access to my book). Maybe just once, you could come up with your own f--ked-up strategies for social control. Until then, I demand a national bank holiday named in my honour, but don’t be cheeky and shove my day on Feb. 29. I want Thanksgiving replaced with National Margaret Atwood Gratitude Day. Breakdown of barriers between church and state In the Gilead of my novel, church and state are one, and that’s clearly a model you’re adopting for yourselves. In fact, your Supreme Court is going full-throttle and allowing Christians to fly flags with crosses at Boston City Hall, taxpayers in Maine to fund religious schools, and football coaches in Washington to lead Christian prayers on the field. Had I missed an email request, a Facebook message, or a Snapchat from you to adopt this theme? Even Saudi Arabia and Iran slid into my DMs with their copyright renewal requests. But from you? Nada! Baseline anxiety about everything You nailed this. To show goodwill, I’m giving you this one as a freebie. Conclusion With your $6-trillion annual production budget, you’ve produced a more faithful adaptation of my work than Hulu ever could. Hulu, however, had the decency to ask me to be a consulting producer on The Handmaid’s Tale TV series, and they gave me a cameo in the pilot. You didn’t even offer me a seat on the Supreme Court, a chair on the Senate Ethics Committee, or a spot on Forbes’ “80 Over 80 Favourite Canadians” list. America: what the f--k? Therefore, in addition to the above-mentioned demands, I insist you update the Latin motto on all your coins from E pluribus unum to E atwood unum, and replace the eagle on the Great Seal of the United States with an image of me (please use my 1978 headshot; that was my best hair year). If I do not hear from you within 10 days, I reserve the right to pursue all legal claims that I may have against the U.S., including punitive damages, compensatory damages, and withholding all of Canada’s exports of maple syrup for your pancakes.

Margaret Atwood

#margaret atwood #the handmaid's tale #united states #usa #the united states #the united states of america #2022 #history

11 notes · View notes

plainlo-inthemorning · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,449 times in 2022

That's 556 more posts than 2021!

393 posts created (27%)

1,056 posts reblogged (73%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@everythingbutresolved

@pegplunkett

@agirlinherhead

@aherdofbees

@girlwiththenegantattoo

I tagged 1,314 of my posts in 2022

Only 9% of my posts had no tags

#hamish linklater - 1,057 posts

#midnight mass - 253 posts

#hamishlinklateredit - 225 posts

#john tyler - 223 posts

#father paul - 191 posts

#tell me your secrets - 190 posts

#jeb magruder - 178 posts

#hamfam - 155 posts

#john tyler my beloathed - 129 posts

#gaslit - 127 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#i’m not a fan of hamish with a beard - especially not the longer ones - but gotta admit it helps a lot not to have to wrestle with his jaw😂

My Top Posts in 2022:

Hamish Linklater in The Future

222 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

See the full post

330 notes - Posted February 27, 2022

Midnight Mass behind the scenes

354 notes - Posted February 16, 2022

658 notes - Posted September 16, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The Night Father Paul Let You Sit on His Lap

Warning: PRIEST SMUT. Children, avert your eyes. And always use protection IRL.

This is my Secret Santa gift to @see-you-in-a-new-light for the Hamish Linklater holiday event created by the lovely @the-weird-dane

I hope you enjoy! Happy New Year :D

Summary: He laughs again, a little more at ease this time. But his mouth snaps shut so fast it’s almost comical when you adjust yourself and ‘accidentally’ grind down on his lap…

When you come back from the bathroom, your chair at Erin’s long dining table has been taken by the mayor’s wife, Dotty, who, by the sound of her uncharacteristically boisterous retelling of some non-dispute at the convenience store with a pesky tourist last summer, is on her third or fourth glass of wine.

At least.

You’re betting that her rapt audience at the end of the table – her husband, Ed and Maggie Flynn and another elderly couple you don’t know that well – are not far behind.

You smile to yourself, even if you are now standing a little awkwardly in the middle of the room.

It’s good to see the parent generation of Crockett Island letting loose for once.

They deserve it.

When Erin, your old high school friend, had spontaneously gone up to the stage at the Crock Pot earlier today, clapped her hands together to get everyone’s attention and invited people over for drinks and a bite to eat later in the evening, the proposal had initially been met with uncertain side-glances.

It’s been that long since the good people of the island actually socialized with one another outside of church gatherings and said (poorly attended) Crock Pot ‘festivities’.

Beverly Keane, the self-righteous bitch, had had the audacity to snicker out loud at the suggestion, as if she personally couldn’t think of anything more ridiculous than spending her free time in the company of an unmarried pregnant woman (the horror!), and a former convict.

Yes, you hadn’t failed to notice how she had made a point of shooting her nose up at poor Riley too, who had been standing to a side, eyes to the ground, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

It was the new, charismatic priest, Father Paul Hill, who had warmly accepted Erin’s offer, effectively shutting Bev up when he’d proclaimed it a great idea, and that he for one would love to cap off the day in good company with his neighbors.

After that, a decent crowd had followed the priest’s lead (doctor Gunning and her date being notable exceptions), and if you hadn’t already found him quite alluring, watching him all but usher the island dwellers after Erin, beaming like a happy, handsome puppy, would have done the trick.

For someone who’s only supposed to be stationed at the island for a few weeks tops while the old Monsignor Pruitt recovers from illness on the mainland, Paul sure seems keen to get on everyone’s good side in church as well as outside.

Perhaps he’s a little lonely, you think. Him being fairly young and living a life in solitude.

Also, you absolutely wouldn’t blame him, if he felt like hiding from Bev for a few hours, knowing that she would never set foot in Erin’s house…

You have a feeling Bev is trying to make herself a permanent fixture at the priest’s small rectory, probably coming and going as she pleases, considering how she had been bossing Monsignor Pruitt around for the past years.

“I bet she’s totally into Paul. Dreams about him at night and draws little hearts around his name in her burn book and shit like that”, Erin had said, hilariously matter of fact the other day, and you had almost spit out your dinner laughing.

You’re inclined to believe her, though.

All in all, it’s been a nice week on the island for you, spending your holiday catching up with Erin and a couple of your other high school friends, Evelyn and Peter, who have also taken time off to come home.

Or: None of your parents actually live here anymore, having all left after that devastating oil spill, but you still like to return every few years to breathe in the ocean air of the place that shaped you growing up.

And now that both Erin and Riley have moved back more or less permanently, you think you may migrate over more frequently.

Of course, it had been Erin’s suggestion that you, Evelyn and Peter stay with her, like a mini reunion of sorts, and you’re so glad you accepted, even if the last-minute travel expenses were a bit steep.

You have a sneaking suspicion Erin may have put the thing together with Riley’s wellbeing in mind too.

His quiet, haunted demeanor is a constant reminder of how much he’s been through since you last saw him several years ago, and your heart breaks for him a little when you think of how spirited – if not downright cocky – he used to be when you were kids.

See the full post

938 notes - Posted January 1, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#well this was full of a grand total of zero surprises 😂#hamfam #tumblr year in review

9 notes · View notes

the-francakes · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,871 times in 2022

That's 1,871 more posts than 2021!

323 posts created (17%)

1,548 posts reblogged (83%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-francakes

@mxlfoydraco

@scatteredstrings

@a-maidens-fantasy

@schmem14

I tagged 302 of my posts in 2022

#dramione - 57 posts

#draco malfoy - 41 posts

#microficmay2022 - 31 posts

#hermione granger - 25 posts

#harry potter fanfiction - 24 posts

#drarry - 23 posts

#hp fanfiction - 22 posts

#harry potter - 19 posts

#dramione fanfiction - 18 posts

#thefrancakes birthday pancakes - 16 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#are they dating are they fucking or are they something in between that? i dunno but you say the nasty shit in bed and its fucking awesome

My Top Posts in 2022:

“It’s Zabini’s birthday this Friday. Stop by for drinks?” Draco asked.

“Friday? But that’s Valentine’s Day,” Hermione blurted out. No idea why. It’s not like she had a date; she and Ron had ended things months ago.

“True,” Malfoy hummed almost to himself. Then he looked at her, those soft eyes moving to the dark metal. “Are you free?”

“Yes. I’m free."

CUPID. on AO3

48 notes - Posted February 11, 2022

@microficmay Day 9: ferocity

“Albus Severus is a stupid name!”

“And Scorpius isn’t?!”

Neither man was backing down. Again.

“I think my water broke,” Luna said softly. Both father-to-be’s didn’t hear and continued yelling with fury. She grabbed her go bag and headed to the fireplace; they’d notice she was gone eventually.

50 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

Hi! Here’s my rec list of 22 fics to share with everyone. thank you for such a fun year and more to come in such a loving community! These are in no particular order except laziness because i don’t want to put them in ABC order... I also did not have banners for all of these cause i lost track of time so... that’s pretty much on par with me actually i have no excuses.

MAIN POST

Far Be It From Me by @riptey

voici mon secret by secretpersona

What is this, fucking Jeopardy? by @lumosatnight

The Letter of Intent by @aauroraluna

Doppelgangland by damnedscribblingwoman

A Dress with Pockets by @pacific-rimbaud

Seeker’s High by @corvuscrowned

All’s Fair in Love, and War, and Paintball by @schmem14

8 Simple Rules For Loving A Vampire by @simplifiedemotions

Lemon Colour, Honey Glow by trishjames

Ab Intra, Ab Extra by @arrisha-ao3

Choices by MesserMoon

The Mirror of Ecidyrue Series by starbrigid

Isolation by bexchan

Not Friends, Some Benefits by devdevlin

Vis-à-Vis-à-Vis by @vukovich

[Podfic] The (Third) Worst Year By TheFrancakes by @ellamcsmellbella

favourite crime by Anonymous (this was a gift for me and i still dunno who it is but !!! dramione if the drawing room incident went very wrong!!!)

Secrecy by @Shadowmu

just lovers (like we were supposed to be) by @zeppazariel

Warm Bodies by Betty_Hazel

Rewrite the Stars by KenzieSpenc (this is my cousin and im SO PROUD of her starting to write!!!)

50 notes - Posted September 22, 2022

me: ughhh i dunno what to write

my wips: (ง •̀_•́)ง

89 notes - Posted November 21, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

@microficmay Day 28: epilogue

Draco closed the book and scoffed loudly. “Pure trash.”

“What is?” Harry asked, wrapping his arms around his husband’s middle.

“The ending,” Draco leaned back, still annoyed. “She wrote that you married Weaslette and that I'm balding.”

“Trash,” Harry agreed, kissing Draco’s shoulder.

“Right?” Draco muttered, “balding? As if.”

181 notes - Posted May 28, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

11 notes · View notes

dreadfutures · 2 years

Text

Blue‘s Gift Fic Offerings

Here are some abbreviated summaries of all Dragon Age gifts I’ve written.

OC Swap Fics

Fics written with someone else’s OC as the main focus!

treat me like fire. Gift for @noire-pandora. Oneshot.

Rating: E

When Solas had faced down her anger that day in Haven, Elluin had awakened something in him that yearned for more. He could hold his hands to the fire, admire it for its warmth at a safe distance, but ever in the back of his mind was a voice that wondered: what might it be like to actually hold the flames in the palms of his hands—to embrace the inferno? To witness the true extent of the danger, if only for the thrilling chance to return unscathed.

The Gift of the Hunt. Gift for @lalaen. Oneshot.

Rating: G

Gethrael Lavellan had known for a long time that he would never be the Keeper of Clan Lavellan. When he fell out of the Breach and was named the Herald of Andraste, his path might have seemed lonelier than ever.

A new discovery brings more of the People to the Inquisition than he had dared to hope. But at what cost?

-:-:-

General Gifts

all i wanna be is whites and waves. Gift for @noire-pandora. Oneshot.

Rating: T

Solas removes the vallaslin of Mythal from his face after a fateful battle tests his loyalty to her cause. The elf who would one day be called Felassan is drawn to him in that moment. Based on the idea that Felassan’s nature is Hope the same way that Solas’s nature is Pride, which I first saw in @rosella-write‘s writing

-:-:-

The Mirrorverse.

The Dragon Age Fanfic Writers Discord Server anniversary (Aug 2021) generated a bunch of crossover-type gift fis and introduced the idea of a multiverse connected by eluvians. Thus, the Mirrorverse was born.

the eternal now of experience. Gift for @rosella-writes. Oneshot.

Rating: G

Ixchel is granted a glimpse of Virelan Lavellan and Solas, many years after he leaves the din’an’shiral.

She knows how hard it was for Virelan to believe their love might find root to grow again. She has not seen the road Virelan and Solas have taken. She has not seen the passage of time. But the mirrors grant her one last glimpse into the life of Virelan Lavellan, and it is a vision of love at long last.

turning stones to look for light. Gift for @rosella-writes. Oneshot.

Rating: G

In another world, Ixchel Lavellan has known failure and success; she has seen Solas lost to his despair, and she has seen him learn how to hope.

Ixchel holds another Lavellan's son in the gardens of Skyhold, and she tells him stories of a father who isn't his...but could be.

Walkers of the Lonely Path. Gift for many. Multichapter (5). Complete.

Rating: T

On the darkest night of the year, five beefy elven warriors and a plucky mage find six mysterious eluvians in the middle of sudden blizzards. Now trapped in a foreboding ruin, they must discover why they have been called here…and if there is a way out.

Dungeon crawl for the Buff Elf Agenda squad and friends.

-:-:-

Solavellan Hell Exchange 2022

Full summary post here (x).

the road seems too wild for mixing it with blues. Gift for @maebird-melody. Oneshot.

Rating: G

To the rest of the world, for once, he is not Solas, not Fen'Harel, not the Dread Wolf; she is not Lady Lavellan, not the Inquisitor. They are visitors engaged in discovery, and the world will indulge them for just this little while.

-:-:-

Arlathan Exchange 2022

Full summary post here (x).

Chrysalid. Gift for @enigmalea. Multichapter (9). Complete.

Rating: G

Imagining the journey Cillian of Clan Ralaferin, a DAI Multiplayer character and DAI NPC, took to find the path of the Arcane Warrior. Inspired by the annual Western Monarch Butterfly migration, and borrowing @rosella-writes ‘ Valor (aka Virelan) from her Arlathan AU.

No Punches Left to Roll With. Gift for @rosella-writes. Oneshot.

Rating: T

(Pre-Relationship Lace Harding/Charter.) Harding meets the enigmatic Charter, and over the course of their diligent work for the Inquisition, the two capable women are drawn together in mutual admiration...and maybe something more.

Comrades in Arms, Brothers in Broken Chains. Gift for @queenaeducan | @theharellan + @rosella-writes. Oneshot.

Rating: T

(Felassan & Agents of Fen’Harel.) Geldauran, a leader among Fen’Harel’s Rebellion, believes anyone who wears their vallaslin after being freed is a spy, a traitor, and a slave at heart. Felassan, who himself wears the brands of Mythal, makes sure to correct him. Felassan would know, better than anyone else, that there are a multitude of reasons one might wear the blood writing and still defy the gods.

He is, after all, the Hope of Fen’Harel.

Centerpiece. Gift for @ashalle-art. Oneshot.

Rating: E.

(Felassan/OFC/Fen’Harel.) Now freed, Revas returns to the ballrooms of Arlathan as a spy and a rebel. But beyond her vital work, she does not know how to enjoy her freedom. Her sometimes lover Felassan, and his lover Fen’Harel, are determined to teach her how. Everyone adores each other, everyone gets off, and a happy polycule forms.

sanctify my body with pain. Gift for @anatidae-dragonage.

Rating: E. Please read the tags.

(Demon?/Lavellan/Solas.) Lavellan finds herself at the mercy of a Desire Demon, in the wake of Solas’s absence. Just when she is about to succumb, Solas himself -- her Solas -- comes to her rescue. Is it just another trick of the Fade? Or is he really here to save her...and fulfill her desires?

And was it her desire that brought the Demon here...or his?

When she wakes, she receives a hopeful clue.

Solas Hell Exchange 2023

Full summary post here (x)

strike a match (whisper my name). Gift for @darethshirl. Multichapter (7). Complete.

Rating: T.

(Solas & Dorian Pavus). Blood magic. Blight magic. Time magic. From the earliest troubles of the Inquisition, it is clear that the topics are intertwined, and Dorian is determined to tease it all out. He is, after all, the brightest thaumaturge Minrathous has seen in an Age. If only Solas would recognize the fact, they might truly get somewhere.

#exchange fics #gift fics #my writing #long post

15 notes · View notes

isabellehemlock · 9 months

Note

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💗

Hi Sarah! I hope you know that I saw that one reblog where you shared you dyed your hair with rainbow colors? (hopefully I'm not misremebering?) - anyways, so now I think of you with magical unicorn vibes gloriousness anytime I get a notification from you 🦄

Thank you so much for this fun ask!! So cute, and hopefully no one minds me sharing more details about each piece I picked - only because I know I genuinely enjoy hearing about the creative process and what an author got out of it, or their essential “why’s” so I’m gonna list seven from the TOG fandom (because no joke, I calculated it, 96% of my stuff on ao3 is TOG lol), and with three bonus ones from other fandoms - because I have some 86 works listed on AO3 (though plenty are fanarts), but yeah, I just couldn’t narrow it down more than that lol.

In no particular order:

Their souls were knit together (and he loved him as himself)

I sort of consider this one my magnum opus of all the pre-canon JoexNicky pieces I had written before then. It’s like each and every fic/meta/post/research piece led me to this one that I embarked on in the fall of 2021 (and even with some academic and religious studies, still spent a few extra weeks on research just to ensure I had a few key pieces in place). I’m a history nerd at heart, what can I say lol. The religious symbolism is thick and they fall in love slowly, so then, sprinkle in some historical contexts from Genova, Tunisia, Constantinople, and Crete, and it sort of snowballed to 88k in three months lol. But there are definitely scenes from it that I’ve re-read several times over, because yeah, it just speaks to me on multiple levels, and I’m glad it seemed to resonate for a few others as well ❤️

Called you by name

This was one of those pre-canon ficlets I was referring to just above, and looking back, I think this could easily be a sort of soft sequel for TSWKT (even though I wrote CYBN beforehand) - but it’s essentially an existential one-shot, stand alone of Nicky returning to his home land about two centuries after he had left it. I projected a lot, but in the end it’s about faith but also the freedom to label your own identity. I still look back at it fondly.

The Returning

This is more of a drabble piece, based on a tumblr prompt, that I wrote for Nile - which is still one of my favorites. Nile is a character I would have loved to explore more about/through/with due to me being a military brat, and my father being a wounded vet (my father had his TBI 20 years ago this August, and for all intents and purposes, died that day). Between that, and her faith, there were actually quite a few meta posts I had wanted to write up, but I kept it personal to a few friends instead after seeing some discourse. So, writing a canon adjacent Nile, instead of the modern au’s I had been doing up until then, and finally explore even some of that? Yeah, deeply personal and I’m glad I had the opportunity to 🥹

Pwimo

For personal reasons, but I still get a giggle out of it 😎

Precious Days

I think some of my favorite pieces are the ones that I make with others (whether that’s by a prompt suggestion, plotting together, making a fic based on art, or vice versa - and I’m so grateful for people who allowed me to sort of practice with them before deep diving into fandom events lol). Now most of my fandom collabs have been art (but also podfics?? Who am I lol) - but yeah, this was one of those giggling with a friend in DM’s over plot ideas kind, that I still look back on fondly. I was grateful for the opportunity to write something as a birthday gift, but also have some fun trying a different trope, and looking at it from a different perspective/lens that I normally tend to write in. It was like this fantastic experiment, dedicated as a gift, but somehow still resonated with several readers, and it’s also one of the few fics of mine that I sometimes re-read scenes from.

Promises, promises

One of my absolute faves because I got to explore one of my favorite subjects - interfaith dialogue - through the whole team, in this modern au, which was also a bit of a rom-com <333 Some scenes and dialogues were projected from my own experiences, and discussions, and though niche as heck, also resonated with some fellow LGBTQIA+ religious readers 💒

Bonus - other fandoms:

Miracoli

Should we call it TOG-adjacent? Lol. I adored writing Daan and Paolo, and the found family trope was THIQ within this FIC yo. Plus, getting to write a teenager, and a preschooler? And exploring those dynamics of building a family together? Yesh, please - there are so many scenes from this one that I re-read just to bask in the serotonin because it’s probably one of the sweetest fics I’ve written, uplifting, romantic and soft 💕

Mixing It Up

My Steddie fic! I binged ST, resonated with Eddie Munson hard, and projected some aceness onto their potential dynamics. I’ve received some of the sweetest “I feel seen” comments with this one, and some are saved on my phone on days when posting anxiety tells me not to bother. Write the stories your teen self would have loved to read, because I guarantee there are others out there who it will speak to, too.

Pretty Ballads Hide Bastard Truths

This was one that has fallen on the back burner due to other fandom events/projects but I promise it’s outlined and ready to resume come late summer. Like, it’s on my list - I’m itching for it! I adored Calanthe x Eist’s scenes in the first season, and I wanted to devour more of it, and with some loving encouragement I was glad to dedicate this one to Claz. It’s still one of my favorites for the worldbuilding, and little nods to canon throughout, but just that exploration of growth, healing, and coming together over the years that has yet to leave my brain. I’m looking forward to finishing it and allowing the story to come full circle.

Thanks again Sarah ~ looking forward to passing this one on soon 🤗

#answered ask #self love fic ask

1 note · View note

akocomyk · 1 year

Text

Staycation

2022's 6th Most Memorable Moment

Gerald and I stood inside the room. His arms were wrapped around me, and mine around him. Our foreheads rested against each other. Together, we swayed offbeat to the tune of Johnoy Danao’s song,

I already knew Gerald plays keys when we first met. Few days after that first meeting, he posted a cover of “Ikaw at Ako” on Twitter. I replied to his post with a cover of the same song on the guitar—I’ve been playing that song since 2015.

And then… everything else is history.

In our first date back in December 2021, Gerald was always singing, “Gusto kitang isayaw nang mabagal,” and he mentioned that he really meant what he was singing.

It wasn’t until a month later that we were able to dance as a pair, during our first staycation. That was a day of firsts for the both us.

I had my annual physical exam that morning, and I came to the clinic with Aia—one of my colleagues at work. She handed me a lot of things that day before we parted—books from her late father and some “birthday gifts” she and my other work-friends have collected.

After our exams, she dropped me off quickly at Robinsons Galleria where Mel was waiting for me. That was the first time Mel and I saw each other since the pandemic started.

Aia drove away to go home, and I wanted Mel to meet Gerald—who was already on his way—but she was skeptical of the idea. She gave me a packet of matcha powder before saying goodbye.

Gerald and I met a few minutes later and ate lunch at Peri-Peri Chicken. I spent the rest of the day and the following day with him in an Airbnb unit.

We stayed up until midnight and watched fireworks from our window overlooking the metro. Earlier that night, Annie was sending me pictures of their dinner table filled with food—she and her family celebrates Chinese New Year.

That day, Gerald gave me two oversized shirts—one of which matches with his, just a different color.

I gave him a promise ring.

#Spotify #The Playlist of My 2022 #Top10Memories

4 notes · View notes

hey-michael-young-history · 2 years

Text

December 25th, 2021 4:24pm

Someone very nicely asked me to write more for that subsmoke fic I was doing earlier, so while I’m waiting to go back and edit the gift I finished, I doodled some out.

With some Ice Dad because I need to practice him before I can finish something for him. AFTER MY STRIKE.

Return to Oz

The door opened, and Bi-Han stood immediately. “Well?”

The man before him was one of the few people tall enough to look down on him. His expression didn’t change as he said, “Calm yourself, Sub-Zero.”

“How is he?” Bi-Han demanded, removing his mask. He had just returned from a mission and didn’t even have time to warm up before Smoke told him that Tundra was in the infirmary. He had never seen Smoke so riled up, and even Cyrax seemed shaken by what he saw.

“Bi-Han-”

“Bing-Yun.”

He shook his head with a sardonic smile. “If I disrespected your grandfather the way you-”

“How is Kuai Liang?” He asked.

“The boy will be fine.”

“My room is covered in his blood. My- his friend said that he might lose his eye,” Bi-Han said.

“The grandmaster will be determining his punishment,” Bing-Yun said, walking away.

Bi-Han grabbed his arm. “Punishment? He was attacked.”

Bing-Yun stopped, and his skin chilled under Bi-Han’s grip. “You both know the rules. He is not to allow others to use him without the grandmaster’s permission. He lives to serve the Lin Kuei, not his own carnal desires.”

Bi-Han stared at him. Then his grip tightened, and his stare grew into a glare. “So because another one of these assholes-”

“Calm yourself, Sub-Zero, ” Bing-Yun snapped. “Do not speak of your brethren-”

“He is my brother. My only brother. When you decided that he was no longer your son, I became all he had. The only thing keeping these fucking animals off him,” Bi-Han snapped back.

“And you have been doing a wonderful job,” Bing-Yun said dryly.

“You knew there was no way he was an Alpha. Yet you still brought him here.”

“You have always thought I wanted to bring you both here,” Bing-Yun said, jerking free of his son’s hold. “I did not even know that he existed until I was instructed to bring both of my sons.”

“You abandoned her,” Bi-Han snarled.

“No. You have no idea, boy. My duty was to breed an Alpha boy. Your grandfather brought me back here with the instructions that I would bring you back when your powers were on the verge of awakening. But your mother….” Bing-Yun looked away. “I asked her to leave. To take you somewhere else. She thought that I was a monster. That I was threatening her. I had no idea that she was pregnant again.”

He looked into his son’s eyes. “When they put you into the breeding rotation, you will see. It is not as simple as staying.”

Bi-Han frowned. He didn’t see Bing-Yun very often, and he still needed him. He refused to speak to Kuai Liang but occasionally brought them books and pastries. He didn’t realize that it was not common for products of the breeding program to know their fathers, let alone stay in contact with them. If Kuai Liang needed extra clothes or medicine or to get into the infirmary when it wasn’t his scheduled day, they still needed Bing-Yun. “Father, I…”

“Go see him yourself. I have already told them to defer matters of his care to you.” He left without hesitation, leaving Bi-Han to go into the medic hall.

“I want to see my brother,” he demanded.

The orderly frowned at the paperwork he was looking at but paled when he looked up. “Of course, Sub-Zero. Follow me.”

He led him back, the patients more and more injured. Bi-Han kept his eyes forward and his face stoic.

“Right in here. He uh… he needed private accommodations,” the orderly explained before quickly walking away.

Bi-Han opened the door, and ice immediately spiked from his arms and shoulders.

This wasn’t a room. It was a closet. Tundra was sitting against the wall, still in his uniform. His face was swollen and caked with blood, despite the dirty bandage on his right eye. He was shaking and holding himself. When the door opened, he tilted his head up weakly. “Water, please?”

“Little brother.”

“Bi-Han?” He started rubbing his left eye, which Bi-Han now noticed wasn’t just closed but sealed by the dried blood.

“What hurts?” He asked, kneeling down.

He laughed, just as weak as his movements. He reached for his brother’s voice, and Bi-Han took his hand, rubbing their thumbs together. “My face.”

“Who did this?”

He stiffened and finally cracked open his left eye, blue surrounded by broken blood vessels. “I… it was an accident. My fault.”

“Kuai Liang.”

“Can I return to our room? They said… you had to approve.”

Bi-Han thought about what their father had said about the grandmaster deciding on a punishment. “Has anyone said anything about discipline?”

“Discipline? But…” His face paled even further, and tears fell from his left eye. “I-I told them I couldn’t have a bed. Just like you said. And-and I… what did I do wrong? I told your friends that I didn’t want to come.” He froze and looked up at Bi-Han fearfully. “I didn’t finish cleaning the blood in the hall and… and in the room. I’m sorry. Please tell them I’m sorry, Bi-Han. I will finish. Please.”

“Tell who?”

“I don’t know!” He exclaimed. He tried to get up, but Bi-Han held him in place. “Let go!”

“He said you were fine. He didn’t even see you, ” Bi-Han growled.

“Who? Who?” He was trying to get up and trying to get the blood off his face.

“I will get you into a bed,” Bi-Han promised. “And they will treat you.”

Tundra slid back down the wall. “I’m sorry, brother. You were right."

"Tell me who did this.”

“I don’t - I don’t think I want to die, Bi-Han, ” he said, holding himself as he shook. “It’s- it’s so cold.”

“We will warm you up,” Bi-Han assured him.

“I was- I got sick, ” he admitted. “They thought I was in heat.”

“Smoke thinks that you know who did this to you. Tell me.”

“Smoke,” Tundra muttered, holding his knees to his chest. “Tomas.”

“I will find out who did this to you,” Bi-Han promised.

Although, he had a pretty good idea already.

——

Kuai Liang was still shaking when the infirmary released him to Bi-Han.

They assured him that it would eventually stop after his body stabilized. His eye was going to be okay. Miraculously, his eye was not affected by the cut- his assailant wanted to leave a mark more than they wanted to hurt him. The medics were more concerned about his concussion and the bruising they found around his body, especially his neck.

Bi-Han helped him back to their room, sharply hushing him when he began to apologize for the blood stains still in the hall.

He tried to go to his blankets, but Bi-Han steered him to his bed. “You’re going to rest easier in a bed.”

“But I’m not allowed-”

“I made that rule so I can bend it, okay? It’s just temporary.” Bi-Han didn’t have a lot of body heat to give, but it was more than Tundra could generate right now.

He helped him into the bed, not surprised by how he immediately wrapped himself up in the sheets. He was shuddering more violently and burrowing as far into the sheets as he could.

“Tell me who did this to you.”

Tundra opened his eyes, and Bi-Han was covered in relief. He could still see. If he had been blinded by his assailant, he wasn’t sure how much longer the Lin Kuei would tolerate his handicaps.

He shook his head and tried to roll over, but Bi-Han stopped him. “Who has been choking you?”

He just needed Tundra to say the name. He couldn’t justify going after him without proof.

“Kuai Liang.” He took his hand again. “I have to ask you… have you been… has anyone….”

Both of their faces heated up. Bi-Han told everyone that he didn’t remember their mother, but the truth was that he held on to the memories of her tightly. Every day, her features softened and blurred. But he would never forget her smile. Her warmth. Her patience. He wished she was here to have this conversation with Kuai Liang.

“Oz said that we’re supposed to….” He cut himself off, but Bi-Han’s suspicions were confirmed.

“Oz.” His voice was surprisingly serene. “Oz has been… doing this to you. Oz has been choking you. Beating you. Cutting your face.”

“Oz is my Alpha,” Tundra said.

Bi-Han turned his neck, and it took every ounce of strength he had to stop himself from hitting him. “Godammit, Tundra.”

There was a bite, alright. A very deep bite that noticeably caved in the entire gland. The ridges of his gland had risen in ugly thick scabs. He touched them, but Tundra quickly turned, holding his neck.

“It still hurts, don’t touch it,” he pleaded. He slid his hands up through his hair and sat up.

“You let him bite you. Do you have any idea what that means?” Bi-Han yanked Tundra’s hands from his hair. A thin layer of ice was beginning to turn his scalp and arms blue. His breath was visible, little puffs of cold air coming quickly as he became overwhelmed.

“He- he said it. They won’t, they,” he stuttered and covered his face. Bi-Han hated when he stuttered. Oz hated it too. He would overwhelm him in front of other people so that they could laugh and belittle him for it. It was weakness, he assumed. Yet another weakness he could not control.

The one thing Bi-Han hated more than his stutter was when he cried.

He was so cold and so tight. His arms were locked, and his stuttering had deteriorated into a frustrated whine.

“Kuai Liang. Calm yourself. Don’t let the ice overwhelm you.”

It was Bi-Han’s voice, but it was too late. He was overwhelmed. And he knew that if he didn’t warm himself up or calm himself down, he was going to trigger a heat cycle, and Oz would smell him and-

He breathed in sharply and struggled to push the air back out. “H-help. Help. H-h-help.”

Darkness began softening the edges of his vision. He kept his eyes down, focused on the sheets, and tried to stretch his fingers. “Help.”

“It gets kind of scary, right?”

That wasn’t Bi-Han’s voice, and these weren’t his hands, and these weren’t his arms embracing him.

This was… warmth. So much.

“Yeah, I got you. Don’t worry.”

Smoke. He dove into the hug, pulling Smoke until they couldn’t get any closer. He felt moisture in his hair and arms as the ice melted, but he didn’t care.

“He’s not going to touch you again.”

Oz. Oz would smell Smoke on him again. He was older than Smoke. Stronger. If Oz found Smoke, he would kill him.

#mortal kombat #MK omegaverse #kuai liang #sub zero #bi han #ice dad

4 notes · View notes

thosetwofirefighters · 1 year

Text

I posted 1,526 times in 2022

That's 1,526 more posts than 2021!

61 posts created (4%)

1,465 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-likesofus

@thisbuildinghasfeelings

@two-cut-lines

@queerbuck

@stationoneeighteen

I tagged 1,518 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#or should eddie be chivalrous and immediately bring up buck because he can’t go 5 seconds without thinking about him but he doesn’t know why

My Top Posts in 2022 (warning: they're long):

Hi!!! ❤️ Can I request number 1 from that relationship prompt list for Buddie please? 'physical touch to feel safe' If it sparks joy! 😊

aaaaa thank you for the prompt!! I was worried this would develop a mind of its own and we'd end up with a longer story, but I reined it in to write this sweet lil ficlet. it's an au where Buck and Eddie are together at the time of the shooting. I hope you like it, friend!! <3

Read on AO3

The first word out of Eddie’s mouth when he wakes up is, “Buck?” It comes out shakily and scared, and he reaches blindly in front of him with his good arm, searching for the man he knows is there. He opens his eyes slowly against the bright lights and almost cries when he finds Buck in a chair next to his bed, fast asleep.

He’s tense, even while unconscious, his body rigid and no doubt uncomfortable in the hospital chair, and Eddie’s heart speeds up as he remembers the last time he saw him, covered in blood with a terrified look in his eyes that Eddie hadn’t been able to peel his gaze from. He’d been in so much pain he was almost numb, but all he can remember thinking about is Buck—if Buck was hurt, why Buck was covered in blood, why no one seemed to be doing anything.

Eddie reaches his arm out again before getting too caught up in his head, repeating Buck’s name louder. He knows he should let him sleep—God knows when he last got any rest—but Eddie needs to hold him and be held in turn.

Buck wakes quickly once he hears his name, sitting straight up in the chair, his eyes finding Eddie’s frantically before he grabs his hand and squeezes, pulling his chair forward, close enough to lean his upper body against the bed. He presses his forehead against Eddie’s, breathing out his name like a prayer, and Eddie closes his eyes and inhales deeply before Buck’s lips are on his.

The kiss is quick and chaste but still conveys their desperation, the fear they’ve only just now let go of after the shooting. Eddie wraps his good arm around Buck’s shoulders when he makes a move to pull back, whimpering against him and burying his face in his neck. “Stay,” he begs. “Please.”

Buck nods, pressing a kiss to his hairline, and they settle together, safe in each other’s arms.

Relationship prompts <3

18 notes - Posted October 29, 2022

Hiiiiii Nat 👋🏼🥰 can I request number 19. Trying to make them laugh for Buddie from that prompts list? If it sparks joy ❤️ love you xx

eeeee Meegs!! I took so long to come up with an idea for this, but i found a video on my phone of my friend with grapes up their nose, and then this fichappened 😅 ilysm!!! consider this a gift as congrats on doing your thesis presentation!! thanks for requesting something, I hope you like it!! ❤️

Read on AO3

Dad’s phone rings just as they’re finishing up breakfast, and Chris not-so-subtly leans over the table to try to glance at the caller ID—something he picked up from Buck, who is doing the same across the table—before his father picks it up. Chris is unsuccessful, but judging by the shadow that has fallen across his dad’s face, he’s pretty sure it won’t be a happy call.

Eddie answers cheerfully though, before pulling the phone away from his ear when the caller—Chris recognizes the tinny voice that he can hear even from his seat as his abuela’s—starts yelling through the phone. Eddie winces, and Chris sighs, hoping this doesn’t ruin their day as he begins to pick up their dishes from breakfast to take them into the kitchen and load the dishwasher.

Chris loves his grandparents, really, but he’s not dumb. He can see how they hurt his dad, how they say mean things. His dad tries keeping that stuff away from him, but kids know—they still pick up on it, and Abuela and Abuelo aren’t nearly as subtle as they think they are. Through the years, Chris has overheard more than enough conversations to understand that his grandparents never seem to think that his father is doing a good enough job. And Chris hates it.

He doesn’t hate them, but he hates what they do and say to Eddie. He loves his dad, and he loves living in LA, their 118 family, and his school. He couldn’t imagine ever going back to Texas, and he hates that his grandparents always try to take him from his dad and his Buck. Especially now that he’s a teenager, it seems far too late to uproot him from everything he’s ever known—they always say that they’re a “constant in his life” and that he “needs to be somewhere familiar,” but it’s been years since he and his dad left Texas, and Chris can barely remember that part of his life anymore.

His dads usually wipe down the table and tidy up the dining room in the morning, but they’re nowhere to be found when he returns. He can hear his father’s tense voice from his and Buck’s bedroom, and he tries not to eavesdrop—he doesn’t want to know what his grandparents are complaining about this time.

It doesn’t take long for the call to end—Eddie’s voice gets louder, and Chris hears Buck say something in a soothing manner, and then there’s a thump before they both emerge from the hallway. His dad’s eyes are glassy, like he’s about to cry, and Chris rushes to his side to hug him tightly. He might be a teenager now, but he still loves his dad’s hugs and knows that one will comfort them both.

He and Buck play video games for a bit—he usually isn’t allowed to play them on Saturday mornings, and while he’s excited to play his newest game with Buck, this means the phone call really shook up his dad, and Chris hates it.

“Hey, Dad?” he calls after a while.

“What’s up, bud?” Eddie’s voice carries from the kitchen, and Chris has to force himself not to roll his eyes at the moniker and remind Eddie of his age.

“Do you think we could go for a picnic today?” It’s something they’ve done a lot the past years, since he and Buck started dating five years ago, back when his dad had an accident on a call that they still won’t tell him about—all he knows is that it was storming, and he’s not allowed to Google anything related to firefighters and wells.

“Sure!” Buck answers for him. “I’ll go make us some sandwiches and maybe a potato salad?” He pauses their game before stretching and heading towards the kitchen.

Chris works on homework for a bit before settling onto the couch again with a book—one of the Percy Jackson novels that he’s rereading—for a few hours, and then it’s time for their picnic.

Like usual, they walk to the park closest to their house, and Chris picks the spot to lay their blanket down. He lays the quilt down half underneath the shade of a tree, half sun-filled so his dad can soak up the vitamin D and hopefully feel better after the morning’s phone call.

Chris leans up against the tree, giggling when his dads lie down next to each other, Buck pointing out some clouds and telling them wild stories about whatever he thinks they look like. Chris keeps an eye on his dad, whose smile hasn’t reached his eyes since breakfast, even when Chris tosses his tightly plastic-wrapped sandwich his way, hitting him in the face and eliciting an indignant grunt that causes Buck to burst out laughing.

Chris pulls the bowl of potato salad out of the picnic basket, Buck grabbing the fruit salad he’d made the day before, and they dig in while talking about random things. Chris tells them about his latest science project—despite already having done so earlier in the week—since he knows it’ll be a good distraction, and Buck rambles about all the different facts he knows about quasars and pulsars.

The conversation lulls after that but in a peaceful way, and Chris sighs contentedly while serving himself more potato salad. He takes a couple bites before the silence is broken by his dad’s loud laughter, which echoes across the hills of the park and causes a few families to look their way. Chris blushes at the attention, and looks towards his parents to scold them.

Eddie can’t keep his eyes off Buck, continuing to chuckle while Chris says, “You guys are so embarrassing.”

“Who, me?” Buck says, but his voice comes out nasally, and Chris furrows his brows in confusion before Buck turns towards him, his eyes crossed and grapes sticking out of his nostrils. Chris bursts out laughing at the sight, realizing that Buck must’ve shoved them up his nose in the hopes of cheering up his dad, and it seems to have worked.

“Buck!!” he wheezes, while his dad continues laughing at Buck’s antics.

“What?” Buck asks. “Is there something on my face?”

“You sound like Spongebob,” Chris laughs, setting his plate aside. He crawls towards his dads and settles in between them, lying down and wrapping an arm around Eddie’s side. “I love you, Dad.”

Eddie makes a sound, and Chris can’t quite tell what it means, but his dad looks at him with so much love in his eyes and a wide smile. Chris grins back before turning to Buck and repeating the sentiment.

“I love you, too, Chris,” Buck says, and then they all erupt into laughter once more at the sound of his voice. “Okay, I better take these out, huh?”

Chris shakes his head, but Eddie mutters, “Please, you goof,” and Buck reaches up to pluck the grapes from his nose. He laughs the first time he fails to grasp either of the fruits, but when he blows through his nose forcefully to try to dislodge them and they don’t budge, he becomes serious, turning towards Eddie with a questioning, almost worried look.

“I don’t think I can get them out, Eds,” he says dejectedly, eliciting another uproar from the older man, and Chris laughs along too—though he hopes Buck won’t be stuck with grapes up his nose permanently (that’d be gross).

“Idiot,” his dad says after another minute passes and Buck still has the grapes up his nose. He shakes his head before sitting up and sliding closer to him. Eddie presses gently on Buck’s nose, unsuccessfully attempting to dislodge the grapes, so Chris begins packing up their picnic, understanding from the stories they bring home from work that they need to head to the ER. His dad stands, holding a hand out to Buck and smiling at him when he takes it.

Chris beams at them while they walk home, laughing quietly to himself whenever Buck speaks in that nasally voice. He can’t believe that of all the things Buck could have done to help his dad out of a slump, he chose to shove grapes up his nose. Sometimes, Chris really is the most mature Buckley-Diaz, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

See the full post

23 notes - Posted November 6, 2022

Quest

Carson is trying to read. Greta has other plans.

Sapphic September day 2: quest

27 notes - Posted September 2, 2022

I Told You So

5 times the others don't believe Ravi when he says Buck and Eddie are dating + the 1 time he's proven right.

9-1-1 Week 2022 day 1: crack + team shenanigans

43 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Glass

Jess comes to a realization when Esti accidentally cuts herself and she finds Lupe taking care of her.

Sapphic September day 3: glass

46 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#this is so fucking cuute #tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

2 notes · View notes