Jj I Think I Read Your Reblog On American Wedding A Million Times By Now And I've Had Big Fat Tears Running

jj I think I read your reblog on American Wedding a million times by now and I've had big fat tears running down my face.

the analogy you mentioned with holy land is making my heart swell and I adore how it ties in so firmly with readers development. to go from nothing to having everything and despite it, her realisation that all she needs is Leon at the end of it.

jj you are such a lovely soul and I hope you know that you are enough. you deserve everything and so much more.

thank you so so much for reading and your kind words. I'll be thinking about them fondly for a long time🫂

-✒️

INKKKKKKKK

well thats how it was personally connected to me! in the sense that i felt adored by this character that comes to life with the way you rearrange letters into words, words into sentences, and sentences into a story.

you're too sweet 😭😍 ilysm ink i hope ur days are long and happy!! ill always be a happy reader of yours!!!

Fanfic Ask Game (the movie, the sequel)

In celebration of me actually working on a fic, I made y’all an ask game instead of continuing to work on that fic. Pls enjoy.

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

😐 What embarrasses you most about your own writing?

👻 What is one WIP you think you may never pick back up?

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

✏️ Do you write every day?

🖊 Post a snippet from a current WIP.

🏅 What is something you recently felt proud of in regard to your writing (finished a fic, actually planned for once, etc).

😈 Is there anything you enjoy doing that you think your readers hate?

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

👖 Are you a planner, plantser, or pantser? Is it consistent?

📊 Current number of WIPs

👨‍👧‍👧 Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? 

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

📝 What is one growth area you have for your writing?

📚 Do you read your own fic?

🌈 What inspired you to write [insert fic here]?

🤔 What is the hardest part of writing fic?

🧠 What’s an idea you have that you can’t quite call a WIP yet?

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

✨ Choose three adjectives to complement your own writing.

💭 What is a headcanon you have about your own work?

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

👩‍🏭 If one of your fics was going to get you arrested, which one and why?

⏰ Do you spend more time reading fic, writing fic, or do you do both equally?

💋 [Freeform - what is something you want to know about one of poster’s fics?]

Skin Out of Stone

He frees you from the confines of the Earth you were born, yet your feet grace the same ground that his does. He pays you an homage, and doesn't expect your reaction to be so... grateful.

a/n: so erm... this was supposed to come out a long long time ago but i couldnt find my rb of @chesue00 's art (middle image in header) in my fic ideas tag and thats bc i never rbed it.

kmsing rn. but erm YES SCULPTOR LEON HAS ME THINK A WHOLE WHOLE LOT BC UR BRAIN IS SO SCRUMPDIDLYUMPTIOUS SO YES THIS IS SOMEWHAT LIKE TO KEEP AN ANGEL I THINK ITS SET IN THE SAME TONE? idfk take this and gn 🫡🫡

tw: mentions of sex, nsfw, nun too bad i think, ig implied stalking but its all in good faith trust 🙏🙏

wc: 1.3k

All he’s ever wanted to do is capture you, a moment in time, in that block of concrete delivered to him the moment you had appeared into his life, a sequence of events he knew he was tumbling far too fast towards, yet unable to stop it anyway. The curve of your hip, where he braces his palm, flattens it against the clay that so easily succumbs to his touch, unable to think on its own. It serves his purpose to adapt to his thoughts, molding to his vision.

The vision of you, standing in the golden afterglow of mysterious sunlight, dappling you in unthinkable shadows, how you would be melting honey dripping between his fingers if you would just give him a chance. But your worlds, however you might begin to appear in the stone in front of him, will never collide.

Secretly, one part of him hopes that you might see it one day, appear at his doorstep, perched over his shoulder like a songbird waiting to serenade his work, his devotion to you. But your eyes will only ever be directed at him through the vivid ink in magazines, or the pixelated photos posted of you.

He feels disgusted with the people who breach your privacy for their shameful desires, for their aching heart, but he knows that he is doing the exact same thing. But how can he help himself, when your lips are the identity of his statue, days and days of work uncovering the perfect angle.

The chisel breaks off chunks of your body, carving you from the rough edges, smoothing you like unblemished paper, the divine goddess you are. In a way, he feels just like that; a worshiper to a deity who will never know of his existence. But he reluctantly accepts his fate, in his quiet, cozy studio, and he brings you to life.

Under his fingers, under his guidance, you emerge from the stone with each tap, each chink, revealing yourself draped in shadows, ones he has never seen. He plays a torturous game with himself, itching to get back to his work when the sun rises, the furrow in his brow deepening every day he is away from his idea of you.

He grasps your chin, wishing there was living, moving flesh underneath him, but alas there is no movement. Only the tilt of your eyes glancing downwards, destined to never drag your gaze over his body, raking him with unseen flames.

Without another moment of hesitation, he inches closer, thinking if he squeezes his eyes hard enough, you’ll materialize in an ethereal manner, bringing his fantasies to life. But his nose only brushes the rough peak of yours, smooth yet never in the way skin would be.

And under the lamplight, he envisions that he is still uncovering parts of you, secret to the world, save for you and him. An empathy felt only for him, only his fingers prying away your barriers.

Your blood runs gray and stony, cold to the touch, where he runs his fingers down what he assumes to be the shape of your body, hidden in the pictures he uses as references. He thinks, a time ago, he disdained the people who did the very thing he’s guilty of at this moment.

Strange, though, his frenzy only grows with every new discovery he creates, mapping your body with the landmarks, the dips of your crescent shaped thighs, admiring how beautiful you look when you’re just… simply his.

But there comes a time when his work must end, when his brush and tools must be swept aside, so he can marvel in your glory. And where he expects to feel immense pride, he only feels guilt.

Disgust that churns his stomach, turning him inside out, skin green with envy. His references were all locally sourced, but how could he have foreseen any of this? It was a simple thing, the sweet girl who lived next door, too innocent to know the power her beauty held over him.

So his only choice of action is to come clean, to hand over the hammer that could easily destroy weeks, even months of hard, untainted work. A single blow would be all it takes, and when the hammer falls limp in your hands, he is more than confused.

He watches your lips separate, the same way he had imagined all your fluid motions, your eyebrows raised, knocking against one another as you turn to him, setting his skin on fire. And unlike you, his skin is not of stone.

“You… did this?” you ask, skeptically, as if you are doubting him. The only reason that leads him to further reveal his mishaps.

“You were too beautiful to resist,” he admits, lowering his gaze in shame. Anger thrums with his heartbeat, if only he had just asked for your permission!

But to his surprise, you turn back to yourself, a mirror image of you set in one singular moment, with your gaze pondering the floor, barraging it with your thoughtful questions, and the corner of your lip quirks upward, he hopes.

“This is a strange way to ask someone out,” you murmur, voice as soft as he had imagined those words leaving your lips. Exactly how he had envisioned it, although in his dreams, you were saying more than just that.

“Sorry?” He’s blanked out on other excuses, words to fill in the silence he wishes wouldn’t be so awkward. Majoring in art left no room for any friends, unless you counted the ones online, only known in their identity overseas.

“It’s lovely,” you settle for after a second of readjusting your thoughts. He can almost see them clicking together like a jigsaw puzzle before your silky hair casts a protective sheen around it.

He wants nothing more than to pry them back apart, inspect how your mind works, to finally see the inside of your morals, how far you’d be willing to traverse with him by your side.

“Lovely?” he asks, tentatively.

<><><><>

Truthfully, in all aspects, the conversation had seemed drawn out, bland if he might venture to share his true opinion. But when you're gliding down his skin, all his rationality buries itself into an impenetrable box and refuses to come back.

“Oh, fuck, yes, just like that,” he stammers into your ear, attempting for praise but sounding weaker than he had planned.

There's an astonished look on your face, curving your lips and sweeping the lilt of your cheekbones to the side as you pant into his neck, thighs trembling around him.

And your reluctance speaks volumes to him, so he presses back for once, speaks up to keep the one thing that's grounded him to art, keeping you sane in his presence. Or somewhat the other way around.

This time, he finds what he's looking for. With every gentle stroke, every deep thrust, he breaks you even further, exposing you to his hungry eyes. He drinks up every last bit of your vulnerable form, savoring the sounds that tear themselves from your tired throat.

He cradles you, long after you've drifted off. He knows there is no use in dreaming when he's living it right now, experiencing what it feels like to be content with just rubbing your skin, soothing the reddening patches with his cool touch.

You shift to face him, and the moonlight filters through the window to illuminate your radiating, peaceful expression, as serene as it was the day he caught you sleeping in the library. He's always wanted to see that face in his bed, facing him, with your skin pressed tightly together, slick and smooth, miles of what feels like one being.

He finally reaches out, and for a moment, he fears you will turn to stone under his touch. So he squeezes his eyes shut and waits for it to happen, for the inevitable to crash down onto him.

But it never does. In fact, all that meets him is warmth, rigid from the chill that creeps in through the walls. And he realizes something.

Your skin is not of stone, it never was.

wip list

a haven where my messy thoughts build upon one another <3

please keep in mind none of these are set, this is more just for me to keep track of things than anything. and always remember to check warnings and mdni labels <3

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

threads of carmine red

in which you're pulled into two directions into leon and ada's silky hands, one gentle and one not so, and the threads that separate your halves are sweet and sticky on their lips

lost in salvation

in which leon is a changed man, someone you don't recognize, a husky monster of the man you pledged your life to. he takes that pledge for eternity, which follows everything he believes, everything he's brought back from spain.

bus stops (tbd title)

in which you were simply standing when he knocked you over, stumbling onto the bus, serenely quiet when you're assigned seats directly across from each other, and one day, on the ride to your shared high school, you decide to take your earbud out and open your mouth.

tempo (title also tbd do u see my problem ehre)

canon part two + au of your hero! in which you see another side of leon, not the one who tutored you, but the overworked, stressed leon. in the heart of the moment, you suggest that he takes his minds off studies and saving the city by joining the college's marching band. but when you arrive at the first game, your eyes are less drawn to the football stars flashing across the field, and more to the boy standing atop a ladder, reaching for the sky.

GOAL! (title AGAIN tbd... fuck my life)

au of your hero! in which you realize leon never gets outside during the day, so you shut off his computer and sign him up for the college's soccer league. he invites you to his first game, and you're not prepared for how well he does. or how good he looks in those tight shorts, with that loose jersey just barely rimming his ass- (please help me i got really carried away)

charmed (title once again tbd. kill me right now)

in which you're trying to escape the curse that has haunted you since birth, the beauty of which you do not wish to claim. no man has ever once caught your eye until the thief standing outside the bar, waiting for you with a tilt of his eye, wrist settling on his slender sword as he offers you a deal to help you break it. who can help when you end up falling in love with him instead?

calvin klein chris fic! (title tbd but AHH FIRST CR MENTION!!)

in which you're the editor for one of calvin klein's photography studio, and you've spent months in your office drooling over the picture of the man you're supposed to be bathing in dramatic lights. he looks even more dramatic when he catches you staring into the pixels of his eyes, late at work one night, and he helps you stay up to finish before your deadline.

waits patiently for november IT WILL COME (just like me when you drop the fic <3)

the way you write is so interactive so i will have many thoughts... but i will be sitting in my corner until the notif from you arrives <3 love u lots !!

claudia i need to know about "tastes like the fourth of july" what do you have so far ml <33

AHHHHH ok ok i actually haven’t written anything for it in like a fucking month but I have like two paragraphs and am hopefully gonna post it in november <3

what I’ve written under the cut yikes 😖

💖👀💻 for the ask game!

ELLE OMG SO LOVELY TO SEE U IN THE INBOX!!! <33 how've you been sweet girl??

💖 What do you like most about your own writing?

i don't glaze myself unless im really really sure of it but i think it's how i can manage to write and also maintain a good gpa like i have all a's in my classes except for one... so im proud of myself for that! my motto is quantity over quality so that's expected lmao

👀 Do you have any WIPs that you would never let see the light of day? If yes, what are they about?

hoooooly shit this reminded me of something i have to do. but ERM YES and none of them will EVER be written, but most of them are au's? of tv shows that i was really really into at the time like trollhunters (stoppp i still love that show) n shit like that so... thats never finding anyone except for me. BUT there's always a chance i revamp it so who knows?

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

i do, actually! i try to make things as well planned as i can on a based deadline. i think the deepest dive i've done was researching sirens for next weeks iiyb release, i think there's a whole ass show that i based leon's siren persona off of! i've recently been thinking about maybe trying to do something like a series, if anyone was gonna say shit about that tho it would break my heart so like </3 and i dont think i'd have the energy and dedication to keep it going (coughs bc im not like shai and ink)

AHHH TYSM FOR DROPPING BYYYY HAVE A GREAT DAY CUTIE PATOOTIE!!! <333