Nym

hahahaha i feel this one

going through things for lafb at one in the morning and realizing i have to include “blood as lube” in the tags 🥴

when the person who hurled tr@nsph°bic insults at you/your art on the doom bird tries to follow you here… 👀

no thanks, pumpkin 😘

i will post far and wide when it’s up! some of my ao3 readers don’t even know it exists!

the fireflies scene is getting such a lovely rewrite. i can’t wait 🥰

well, you’re probably gonna have to do another reread of the first ten soon because things are changing 🙄 again. i’ll let you know. my people will call your people

The water clings to him in small, glistening beads—each droplet catching the light like glass blown too delicately to hold. They trace the contours of Edward’s flesh with casual intimacy, collecting in the shallow dips of his collarbones, the soft curve of his shoulder, the hollow behind his knee. Some move, slowly—drawn by gravity or the shift of breath—carving silent paths over Edward’s beautiful, warm skin. These droplets leave thin, meandering trails in their wake, like writing something secret in invisible ink in a language of touch and sensation. Others simply sit still, quivering on the fine hairs of his arm or the nape of his neck, or balancing at the edge of an eyelash, their surfaces trembling with the faintest breeze or pulse of movement. In the right light, they refract color like scattering prisms, turning Edward’s flesh into a canvas of shifting silver and pale gold, streaked with every color of the rainbow glittering on its surface.

The water clings to him in small, glistening beads—each droplet catching the light like glass blown too delicately to hold. They trace the contours of Edward’s flesh with casual intimacy, collecting in the shallow dips of his collarbones, the soft curve of his shoulder, the hollow behind his knee. Some move, slowly—drawn by gravity or the shift of breath—carving silent paths over Edward’s beautiful, warm skin. These droplets leave thin, meandering trails in their wake, like writing something secret in invisible ink in a language of touch and sensation. Others simply sit still, quivering on the fine hairs of his arm or the nape of his neck, or balancing at the edge of an eyelash, their surfaces trembling with the faintest breeze or pulse of movement. In the right light, they refract color like scattering prisms, turning Edward’s flesh into a canvas of shifting silver and pale gold, streaked with every color of the rainbow glittering on its surface.

The light is brighter here, near the edge of the water. The break in the trees allows moonlight to fall and caress the surface, glancing off to shatter through the darkness. It spills over Edward’s features, highlighting his cheekbones and his brow, the delicate slope of his nose and the crest of his Cupid’s bow. Edward turns to face the water fully and his smile softens into something pensive, something deeper and more contemplative. They walk like that for a moment—Edward staring at the water and Stede staring at Edward—until they come to a stop before reaching the little puddles and mud pockets at the waterline. Deep shadows are draped over the clearing like a heavy blanket, relieved only by the silvery moonlight glinting off the water. The cypress trees loom all around them, interrupting the light to cast long, lazy moonshade along the shore. Their twisted trunks and knotted roots peek out of the water, reaching up for the tendrils of Spanish moss draped over the branches like ghostly curtains, swaying in the warm, humid breeze.

Fireflies flicker an irregular beat, close to the ground, illuminating the mud and wild grasses around them. A distant splash catches Stede’s attention and he glances over just in time to catch the red reflection of an alligator’s eyes breaching the surface before immediately redirecting away from them, probably having caught Stede’s scent. The surface of the swamp itself reflects the stars and the moon above—a giant, black mirror, broken only by the occasional ripple when the water is disturbed. Life teems around them, buzzing and flapping overhead, rustling and slithering underfoot, chirping and clicking and croaking in the surrounding foliage. The noise is constant, shifting and changing as the warm-blooded creatures around them freeze in place, their little hearts picking up speed as their tiny breaths pant faster, reacting to Stede’s presence. But the bullfrogs and leopard frogs call out to one another, trilling in clusters that reverberate off the water. A symphony of cicadas and crickets deepen the layers of ambience that surrounds them, singing to the wind rustling through the leaves.

The sounds of the night are soothing and pleasant and clearly Edward feels the same way. His eyes are wide and shining, mesmerized by the scene in front of him, like he’s entered a hidden and untouched land—like he’s experiencing something sacred. His lips are soft and parted slightly, suspended in a breath he’s forgotten to take, as his eyes slide over the moonlight shattering on the surface of the water. Stede gathers him more closely as Edward tips his head to the side, twisting a bit in his arms to better hear the rustle and splash in the distance, and a small smile finally overtakes his beautiful features, reverent and still, like he’s found his way into something ancient and magical, and god, he’s so perfect. Stede’s never seen anything more breathtaking in his life. “I love it here.” “I love it here.”

Their eyes meet with an enamored smile a beat after the simultaneously whispered words, soaking each other in as the quiet moment stretches on. In the hush that falls between them, the world seems to draw back, softening at the edges like fog around firelight. Everything outside their locked gaze dulls and slows—the wind, the insects, even their breaths—until all that’s left is the magnetic pull of him and me, undeniable and unhurried, confident, even. Stede’s lips part, about to speak, but he stops himself. What could possibly be said that can touch the weight of what is already being exchanged in their silence? But Edward’s expression shifts minutely; his brow softens in silent question, the flicker of a smile not yet born gracing the corner of his lips, a single inhale held just a second too long. His hands tighten in Stede’s hair and his pupils blow open as his lips finally part around a shivering inhale. “Home?” Stede asks quietly while his chest tingles hollowly, desperate for the warmth of Edward’s bare skin against his own, longing to feel whole and complete like he only has with Edward’s body in his hands.

so i’ve done a lot of edits for lafb and the rewrite has now taken on a life of its own. in case you’re wondering how the important scenes of the 250k word story is going 🥴

💚

i’m better! i think about you all the time 💚

i am tooooo! i forgot how much i adore them

thank you! this always happens when i get close to finishing a story. i trick myself into thinking that i forgot how to write? so i go back to older works and a new story pops out 😭 rinse. repeat

the first ten chapters will be done tonight. i can send you the link if you want to check my corrections 😅

working on the rewrite for lafb at the moment. this was written at 3am this morning because it wasn’t leaving me alone while i was trying to sleep 😅

But then they go quiet. Your heart skips a beat and your skin crawls with a spike of ice shivering down your spine. You follow their gaze down to your wrist. They’re staring at your hand and then they’re touching your hand! Pulling it closer to look at the little birthmark peeking out from under the band of your watch. Imagine your confusion when their eyes slide up to yours slowly and the way your lungs would seize up and refuse to take a breath as their beautiful, deep, hazel eyes stare into your soul, just as confused as you are. Now imagine the next word out of their lips isn’t your name, but a whisper of the name you go by in your videos. Your entire world would stop! The fridge beside you would go silent and the ambient chatter and ringing phones would disappear under the thundering of your heart in your ears. Imagine the way your stomach would squirm as your body flushes with a cold wave of adrenaline and you stand there, mute, panicking, even trembling a little because they still haven't let go of your hand!

It slowly sinks in that they know you far better in that capacity than they do in a professional one, but it also sinks in that they’ve found your videos. They. Found your. Videos. Your niche, fetish videos that are rarely stumbled upon by accident. They found it. They searched for it intentionally and frequent your page often enough to not only remember the name immediately, but to recognize you from a tiny, insignificant detail like a birthmark. What would you even do?! Standing there mute and panicking isn’t going to work. Leaving ensures that you can never return to your workplace. But what if they told someone? You’re not ashamed of it, but what if, suddenly, every person in your workplace, a prestigious teaching hospital with over a thousand employees, could possibly know your secret? What would you do?

I’ll tell you what you do. You lean in, trying to slip into your on-camera persona, gathering up every shred of stolen and false confidence you can muster to let a slow, intentional smile touch your lips, just for a second. Then, you look down at their mouth, expectantly, like you’re waiting for them to speak again. They won’t. So you let your eyes slide back up to theirs, letting the look linger until the shining hazel eyes widen just a bit, and you whisper, “Always good to meet a fan.” And you walk the fuck out to go puke and hyperventilate in the bathroom.

2/2

Imagine you have a really awesome, highly sought after job that you worked really hard for and you’re making decent money, but you’re still massively in debt from school, so you make porn on the side to earn extra money for the upcoming holiday season… and to fill a void for an unexplored fetish. Imagine you were always very careful to keep your identity a secret, keeping your face covered and out of frame. You film in a dark, nondescript corner of your house, no distinguishing marks, easily controlled lighting. Now imagine you start getting a bit of traction. Imagine you become popular somewhere far away and comments are left in a language you don’t understand and they’re left by names you’re positive you wouldn’t pronounce correctly on the first try. But you’re making great money now! Even a little extra sometimes for special requests.

Now imagine going to work and every single day, you have to see the one person you’ve managed to develop a huge crush on. Imagine they barely notice you. They’re polite and sweet, but they’re polite and sweet to everyone. They’re funny and charismatic and always in a good mood, but they’re there to work and they never get carried away with small talk and never go out of their way to talk to anyone unless it’s work-related. And you watch them more than you should, because they make your heart beat faster than it should. It makes you a little sick to your stomach but you kinda like it, you kinda look forward to those gnawing little teeth in your belly and the cold trickle of excitement down your spine when you know you’re going to see them. Imagine your disappointment on the days when they nod and smile politely in greeting from across the room, rather than coming close enough for a good morning. Imagine how that would feel, the reminder that, to them, you’re less important than getting copies from the printer, or not worth a detour on their way to the lab, when you’ve been thinking about them since the moment you woke up.

Imagine preparing what you’re going to say on the train the next morning, having finally decided that you’re going to seek them out for morning pleasantries. Imagine how nervous you’d be! The butterflies, the clammy palms, the second thoughts! The excitement, the terror! Imagine “bumping into them” by the coffee pot in the break room, even though you don’t drink coffee. You grab a cup, just to make your trip away from the group look intentional. You absolutely nail the nonchalant exclamation of surprise when you “discover” them there. You offer a “good morning” when you pass the sugar. You smile when they take it. You feel like you’re going to be sick, but—christ—you feel alive! They reply easily, so confidently that it’s clear they’re comfortable in their own skin and don't need or want anyone else’s opinion.

1/2

want to read some of the rewrite before it posts? i could use some fresh eyes soon 🥲

holy shit lafb isn’t even on there yet and it’s close to 1m

i did! they’re my sweet babies

i just finished another of the ending chapters and i considered writing this in 💀

screenshot from con’s story of a fab cover of A Change is Gonna Come

LAFB playlist. A Change Is Gonna Come by Brian and Thomas Owens

feeling feels. from the proposal scene 😭

a lot 🥲

ATEOTWWY -3 - WHEN THE WORLD STOPS TURNING Chapter 1 People used to say "it's not the end of the world" like the world ending was the worst thing they could imagine. Their theoretical apocalypse was the pinnacle, the epitome of terrible. And, yes, if the world ended, then life as you knew it would be dead and gone, but what nobody ever thought of in this hypothetical doomsday scenario, was the ones who were left over after the world ended. The ones who died right in the beginning had it easy. A few days of fear and a swift end, devoid of the real terror that came later. Fire raining from the sky in the cities, plane crash after plane crash, satellites falling through the atmosphere and raining hell down on them, setting the landscape ablaze, roving groups of would-be bandits, looting and killing everywhere they went.

Then the running. And the starving. And trying to relearn basic survival while literally running and fighting for your life. The end of the world is nowhere close to the worst thing that could happen. Surviving the end of the world is much worse because the world just carries on—it takes hold and takes charge. You're no longer in control of things you once took for granted, little things that a comfortable life in the suburbs erases from the survival instinct. Running water—hell, clean water-might as well be science fiction. Food comes from the earth, pulled up or hunted down with your bare hands. Entertainment is a concept that no longer exists. Travel is no longer fast and simple. Neither is communication. No more easy remedies for headaches or upset stomachs.

So, when you do finally get a little taste of the security the past had once offered you—a little safety, access to water and food, people to spend your time with and fill your hours, someone special who eases the exhaustion and pain of your day-to-day—your biggest fear, even greater than the brain thirsty rotters and packs of murderous, cannibalizing monsters, is losing that little slice of peace. Because it's all you have. But the world carries on. Even if it carries on without you. ~~~

😮‍💨 #Zombois

When your world is drying up Like a desert into dust When there's no rain on the horizon I'll be there to fill your cup I will love you till the world stops turning And ever after when it comes And all the days between are left for learning Just what this life's about So l'll love you till the worlds tops turning 'round When your burdens weigh you down Like a cloud about to burst Lay your head upon my shoulder And I will carry all the rest 'Cause I will love you till the world stops turning And ever after when it comes And all the days between are left for learning Just what this life's about So l'll love you till the worlds tops turning 'round When our bodies fall apart A broken puzzle of the past We can put it back together 'Cause honey, all the good things last And I will love you till the world stops turning And ever after when it comes And all the days between are left for learning Just what this life's about I will love you till the world stops turning And ever after when it comes And all the days between are left for learning Just what this life's about So I'll love you till the worlds tops turning 'round

storyboard for part three of zombie boys is coming together

post a picture of when your pet was little

i couldn’t pick just one 😭

i only do happy endings. and if i ever DO decide to whump it up, i will warn the hell out of you

i just sat down with them in part three and we had a story boarding talk where nearly 8k was added to the doc, so

adjusting to new brain pills is hard 😔