Sloane

I'm drowning in my love. 📜

[sloanetriestowrite]

SLOANE.

" Hello hello. This is Sloane writing this, and yes. I returned to Tumblr after a long awaited break. My account isn't too big during my leave, which was convenient—considering that I didn't want to make a lot of people wait. Tumblr is just a place where I'd want to express my love for writing and to turn my fantasies alive. That said, being here wouldn't mean I'd post frequently, though I will still continue to write for you all. "

~ S.

— 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒.

1 — " 𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐒. 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒. "

While I do have my inbox to connect with my readers, I want to be free with what I want to write and what I feel like writing. So because of this, I'll only see suggestions as ideas—unlike requests. I may take requests soon if I run out of things to write about.

2 — " 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒. "

I'm happy to see that some people may find inspiration from certain things, but being inspired is different from stealing content. If you do want to use my work as an inspo, I'd want to be credited. Please and thank you. I'd like to state this vice versa.

3 — " 𝐃𝐋:𝐃𝐑 - 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝. "

We all have different preferences when it comes to certain topics—including literature, fanfics, and all that. My kins and my type of genres are not really to match everyone's preferences. So if you don't like my writing or the content of my works, then you don't have to read it. Additional stuff about this can be found here in this post.

4 — " 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐓𝐌𝐎𝐒𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. "

5 — " 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 "

I'm not really big on interacting with my fans or my moots, but you will all have to keep in mind that I truly appreciate each and every support and likes that are given to me. You can comment and send me some messages on my inbox, but please do keep in mind that I'd like to keep this blog positive and non-toxic at all costs. 🤍

My tags are there to provide all the things you need to know or be warned about before reading my works. They're there for a reason so do have a look at it before proceeding to read. I've also placed a "keep reading" feature for a reason as well.

Lastly, to all my dear fans who have been waiting for me ever since I went poof—I love and miss you all. Glad to be back here but I won't guarantee that. I have a really tough schedule to work with. That'd be all!

— More rules on this post might be added soon.

MY MISC TAGS :

# sloane send backs = my replies to inboxes/messages , announcements

# sloane sneaks = spoilers about my work or contents i like

# sloane adores = posts i reblogged

# sloane goofs = just me randomly blabbering about shit

# sloane writes = all my works

FANDOMS : Path To Nowhere , Arcane , Honkai Starrail , Genshin Impact

[rivyrofstyx]

this is real btw i work at aisno

they look just alike bro did eleven even try

[sloanetriestowrite]

QUITE FEVERISH.

Written by Sloane.

POSTED : 7/25/25

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

TAGS : mentions of the reader being sick + having migraines , not proof read , overall just pure fluff and cheesy romance , probably cliché

WORD COUNT : 2.0k

Migraines. Your longest standing enemy—it alone causes you to call in sick for work, request for an absence, and even take medicines for which even you sometimes find difficult to swallow. But this time? It's not only migraines.

You're having a fever. And it was right before your goodbye party from work which occurs before summer vacation starts. Tragic, yes, tragic indeed. You can't even say goodbye to your coworkers.

Not like you consider them close to you, but of course, there's one particular person that's an exception from the rest. A person you're dying to see one last time—and would probably want to see again during summer vacation.

And it is none other than Shalom.

You’d rest, curling into a ball—relaxed into your crumpled sheets, with nothing but a blanket and pillow in your company. Gloomy. You feel absolutely gloomy.

Whilst everyone is out there partying in your workplace, you're here all alone. Stuck within your apartment—having to sulk away with a fever that decided to unluckily show up on one particular day; which is probably the last day you can ever see Shalom one last time.

Unexpectedly, you hear a chime coming from your phone, in which you'd lazily reach out to. Yes, staring at the phone might make your headache worse; but what's the harm in checking for notifications? Maybe there's an emergency.

Maybe something way less negative than an emergency.

You feel your eyes widen as your eyes land on the screen—there was a text message from Shalom. And as if you were healed by the hands of god itself, you quickly sat upright, something you literally had trouble doing since this morning.

I guess Shalom can be the only one to motivate you to get out of bed, even with a feverish migraine at that.

“Why didn't you come to the party? Where are you?”

You stare at the text message from Shalom before your very eyes—the dimly lit screen in full display. Your fingers excitedly tapped over the screen, precisely clicking at each button on the keyboard.

“I couldn't come because I have a fever.” and with that, you pressed on the send icon.

“Sick?”

“Yes, Shalom. Very sick.”

“Have you taken any medicine? I could stop by the pharmacy for you.”

“I already took one. No worries. <3”

“Well, I guess that's preferable. I didn't want to stay in the car any longer.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Your face scrunched up into one of confusion and you feel even more bewildered as the screen flickered into a notification of Shalom calling you. Undoubtedly though, you wouldn't hesitate to answer her.

“Shalom?” you'd ask.

And from the other line of the call—you hear her chuckle. “My, my… who else would it be?”

By those effortless words alone, you went crimson—red, and really flustered. A honey-toned voice you'd die for, just so you can hear it one last time.

You struggled, stuttering a bit as you internally cussed at yourself for doing so, yet you managed to talk. “Why are you calling? Aren't you too occupied to be talking with me?- or even.. texting me in the first place?”

You hear her hum as if she's pondering her words. “I didn’t plan on going to the party the moment I heard you weren't coming.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had to go somewhere else important… a place that I’d rather be in than one boring party.”

“Where?”

“Look out the window.”

You paused. Slowly shifting in your spot as you clambered out of bed—hand outstretched, reaching for the curtain, and with one tug of the fabric to expose the window, you saw her.

Shalom in her usual attire. Wearing her long black leather trench coat, her grey pencil skirt—her tightly buttoned white shirt. Her two-colored hair cascaded its length down towards her chest, its strands perfectly framing her face.

But none of those could ever compare to those eyes of hers. Its gaze is already peering towards yours—you see her standing yet leaning back against a sleek black car, one of her arms crossed over her chest; her free hand still holding the phone against her ear.

And as you stare back, she curls her lips up into that signature smile of hers. Thinly shown, yet warm and genuine.

“Care to let me in?”

— —

“I don't get it, what made you come here?” you questioned as you sat down by the edge of your bed. Shalom stood slightly away from where you are—her back facing you, shrugging her trench coat off and neatly placing it down a chair. “Just as I told you before..”

Mid-sentence, she gracefully turned around; slowly but surely walking towards you. “I’d rather be here with you, than attend one measly party.”

You gulped, nervously—real nervously as your gaze dropped to the ground as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing to look at within this room.

Yet even so, you could feel your proximity with her getting stronger; intense and purely unadulterated. Just you and her, alone in your bedroom of all places.

“Look at me.” she’d speak softly—you feel one of her hands venturing towards your chin, her fingers gently lifting it upwards. “Why couldn't you tell me you were sick, hmm?”

You held your head up to face her as she stared you down with those beautifully red eyes of hers. Damn fuck, you wanted to break eye contact but you couldn't; not if her hand was holding your chin. A gesture you wouldn't stop.

“...I didn't feel the need to. I wanted you to have fun.” you’d say back. Feeling every bit of your dignity fall apart in the process. Seriously… how can you feel so flustered around her?

“Starting now dear, I want you to tell me how you feel… as how I do with you.” said she. Her unused hand rested above your shoulder. “...What do you mean by that, Shalom?” you’d ask once more.

“I no longer want to continue on with whatever is happening between us right now.” Shalom emphasized with a smile, though even so, you're still confused, baffled even. What is she trying to say? What is she trying to point out?

And as if sensing your bewilderment, Shalom shuts her eyes close as her lips heaved out a chuckle. “...These mind games, these nonsensical uncertainties. I want it to stop now.”

Her hand moved—from your chin to your cheekbone, motioning her thumb to delicately caress your skin. “Allow me to take care of you… not only now, not only tomorrow..” she’d enunciate. “..include all the days that come after each.”

You feel yourself get pushed, a gesture so firm but gentle—enough for your back to land into the sheets. You stifled, letting out a gasp in the process.

“I want to be with you. I want it to be known to you.” Shalom continues, trailing off her words yet each was undoubtedly sincere. You're dazed and at loss for words, and funnily enough—no matter how hard you're thinking right now, you can't even feel your migraines anymore.

“You… love me?” you’d ask with a whisper, meekly staring up at her as you remained underneath her figure. Her hand was now palm to palm against yours, the other was holding your cheek—her lips still carried off its smile.

“I admire, I adore…” she slowly held your hand into her lips, pressing a kiss into your palm. “And I unequivocally love..” she drew her face closer, head slightly tilted to the side. “..you and only you.”

Within this very moment, it feels as if euphoria is swallowing you whole—a feeling so thrilling, an emotion so overwhelming you're at loss for what to do, what to say.

Shalom? Shalom loves you? You?

Forget love! She's trying to kiss you too, but you're sick!

In a flash, you’d clasp your hand upon her lips. Her face slowly changed from one of awe to one of shock; you can see it in her eyes alone.

“We can't I'm- I'm sick.” you’d remind her, noticeably embarrassed but it had to be done.

And by effortlessly brushing your hand off of her lips, she’d waste no time reeling herself in—initiating a gesture which would take away something from yours. Your first kiss.

Seconds felt like hours, the surroundings felt non-existent; heck that even everything began to make no sense. Damn you, Shalom. you'd say to yourself as you helplessly succumbed into her kiss. Damn you for making me feel like this.

Her lips stayed attached upon yours and it is quite clear that Shalom was absolutely relishing this moment—your lips, the feverish warmth of her body upon yours. God, she was enjoying herself too much as well.

— —

Her being such a gentlewoman herself, she pulled her lips away; allowing you to have a moment to catch your breath, to somewhat recover from what has happened. You hear her panting, and so can she with you.

“Now… you're going to get sick too.” you’d say humorously as you looked away, resting the back of your hand on top of your lips as if it was a makeshift shield in the first place.

Shalom laughed. “Quite feverish aren't we?” you feel her body on top of you shift as she speaks—sprawling her torso to rest on top of yours, keeping herself close.

“I don't get why would you suddenly confess while I'm sick…” you rub your temples with your hand—feeling your body tense for a moment as her ear gently snuggles itself into your chest.

“At least I cured your migraine?” she mused, scarily enough, she was right; and it doesn't help that you can feel her smile mischievously into your chest. “I simply didn't want to prolong it… I wouldn't be able to see you during summer.”

Your lips pressed close into a thin line. Ah, right. Summer. Shalom has other matters to deal with other than you and work.

“I wanted summer to happen with us being together.” and with those words alone, she made you go crimson all over again.

“You’re cheesy.”

“And you're cutesy.”

“Cutesy?” you’d repeat in a baffled manner, even you can't believe that Shalom is using slangs. Where did she even learn that from?

Shalom could only lift her shoulders to do a shrug of nonchalance as she slowly pulled herself off of you, humming a melody as she did so—and with one precise motion, she slowly pulled the covers on top of you.

“Hey- what are you doing now?” you’d ask.

“Less questioning and more resting. You're sick, and I mean it when I say I want to take care of you.” she’d counter. Leaning in to give you one last kiss by the forehead, her hand now gently brushing your shoulder.

“Shalom.” you’d whine as you pout.

“Darling.” she’d reply as she smiled.

You fell silent—it only took her one nickname and one signature smile of hers to shut you up, which elicited a chuckle from her lips.

You watch Shalom draw herself away from you as she saunters her way to the door; obviously going to the kitchen to cook whatever little ingredients you have left in the fridge—not like it'd matter, every meal cooked by Shalom can be mistaken to be a meal cooked at gourmet level. Shalom Ramsay.

— —

Being sick may remind you that you need to take proper care of yourself—but there's nothing way better than an apparent reminder you have someone alongside you, and that you aren't alone as life continues on.

Whether they'd be to take care of you, to be with you, or to just be present; it will always leave a lasting impression, whether big or small.

But you're also reminded—you're admired, adored; and most importantly, loved by Shalom herself. Mutually so, you feel strongly for her just as much, and it is quite clear that neither of you would say otherwise.

Quite feverish with how it happened—yet it has always been sincere.

[sloanetriestowrite]

3AM NIGHTS

Written by Sloane.

POSTED : 7/3/25

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

TAGS : fluff , wholesome , mentions of insomnia , really cliché , unexpected ending , not proof-read

WORD COUNT : 1.6k

You're pretending again. Always pretending.

Pretending as if she is nowhere near of importance to your life, as if she was always a stranger to you.

But you know to yourself that you’re horrible at it, horribly bad at sticking by your words—especially to a woman such as her.

Eleven.

From the very first moment you've laid your eyes on her, you knew you're fucked. Drawn, attracted, entranced. To her you’re nothing but a moth to a flame, and damn well you're already burning in it.

You laid resting—your body plush into the comforters of your bed, like it is your only safe haven, your temporary escape from this god forsaken world.

A world that made you feel so unsafe, it is almost impossible for you to not get kidnapped, held abducted, or even transported to another world.

The life of the MBCC Chief, as what they all say.

Cheeks pressed into the pillow, your eyes gazed off to the side—to your nightstand, and above its woody surface would be your phone.

You stare, quite hard—real hard, as if you're projecting for something to happen. For someone to appear. You can't even deny it anymore.

You’re seeking for Eleven.

Coincidentally—terrifyingly, as if on cue, you hear a static sound of white noise, all coming from your phone. Reverberating, reaching for your ears.

“ Sssskkssksksss *crackle* Sksskssksssk ’’

The noise alone felt as if it was beckoning at you to pick up the phone. Someone wants to speak with you. You don't have to play detective for it.

And with that, you reached. Arms stretched out, hands sprawling forth, taking hold of your hand-held device.

You would then hold the gadget against your ear, and not even a second later, you hear a raspy giggle from the other side of the line.

A short-lived laugh, followed by a velvety voice you'd die for at any day—soft, smooth, and pleasing to the ears. A voice you missed this entire time.

“Chief.”

And now you're tense.

“You're messing with my phone again, what do you want?” you spoke as if you weren't just thinking about her not too long ago.

“No. What do you want?”

And now you're silent.

“You know, chief… it felt like you were calling for me, so here I am.” Eleven trailed off her words as if she didn't just casually play the role of the Akinator. “Stop missing me, I'm here now.” she adds with a pitch of mockery.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” you’d counter, disguising your thoughts with the usual dry tone of your voice, the one you always use to dodge away those flirtatious advances of your sinners.

“Besides, it's late anyway. Why would you reach out to me at this hour?”

“No reason. Why are you awake at this hour?”

“Question after question, Eleven. You keep on trying to flip the tables, answer me properly.”

She did that laugh again, and before you realized it, you went crimson. Miserably red, if pointed out.

“I’m right behind you.”

And as she enunciates those four words, you hear two versions of that statement: a radio-ish one and a closer one. Fuck. She really is right behind you.

“Eleven what are you-”

“Shh..” you're hushed, with just an effortless gesture from the tip of her index finger against your lips.

You felt her chest, snug against your back—her breathing fanned the back of your ear, followed by a leg that draped over your own. You would have never guessed that Eleven would actually use her powers to scare you shitless like this. Not to mention, sleepless.

“Mmh, can't sleep again?” she asked with a hum, talking as if she's babying you in the first place. “Should I sing you a lullaby, my sweet Chief?”

“Stop it, let me go already…” you squirmed, you struggled, trying to wriggle your way out of her possessively firm embrace, and it didn't even take a minute for you to give up. “Do you always have to be like this?”

Eleven chuckled, purposely brushing her lips against the back of your ear, prompting you to shiver, quaking like a leaf. “Like what?”

You're silent once again.

“Clingy and affectionate?” she murmured against your jaw, her nose trailed over, from the side of your neck to the crook of your shoulder. “I'm sorry, my dear. But it's not that simple…”

Head empty, without a single idea of what to say, you're left with no choice but to ask: “What does it take for you to stop?”

Eleven stopped. Her nose stayed into your shoulder, her legs remained tangled around yours, as if she was taking a moment to ponder whilst manipulatively restraining you into her embrace at the same time.

And you feel her lips, smiling into your skin.

“First…” she’d start. Her hands reached for yours, holding it palm to palm, fingers interlocked with one another. “You have to stop avoiding me…”

You gulped.

“..second, I need you to stop being in denial.” her unused hand ventured to your neck, her black-painted nails delicately caressed your skin.

“In denial of your love for me…” she now took ahold of your chin. “..in denial of how much you just love getting pillow-talked to sleep.”

Slowly but surely, her hand guided your chin until you're eye to eye with her. And you're met with those glowing irises. Mesmerizing as ever.

The dark circles beneath her eyes were quite prominent from this distance, but it made her all the more beautiful. More entrancing to gaze at.

From head to toe, especially with a face like that, you're completely enamored. “I have to say the third, dear chief.” her words completely knocked you out of your trance. You blinked repeatedly, immediately looking away and pursing your lips out of embarrassment.

Eleven chuckles, a stark contrast from her next tone.

She lets go of your chin, then saying: “Turn over.” and despite how delicate her voice was, you know that it was more of an instruction—rather than a plea. And you obeyed.

Before you was beyond a magnum opus.

Hair as white as snow, eyes comparable to that of a gemstone—accompanied by a beauty mark from below. The corners of her plump lips curled, a smile then formed. Her lashes fluttered, her gaze became softer.

And before you realized it, you two were gazing upon each other, mesmerized by one another.

“Understand that it won't hurt to relax.”

She whispered, her forehead now gently leaning upon yours. “Understand that I only want what's best for you.” she added.

You felt one of her hands wrapping around your wrist, guiding your palm to rest upon her waist—she may have no longer intertwined her fingers upon your own, but now she's using them to run through your hair.

Stroking each root, rubbing through your scalp, as if prompting you to loosen up.

“It won't hurt to let yourself loose to me, my dear.” she’d enunciate—softly, clearly, and undoubtedly affectionate, for you and only you.

“Do you hate the idea that much?” she’d question and now you're confused.

“Hate what?”

“The idea of loving me.”

And your lips pressed into a hardline at that response.

Love is a very strong word for you. You've always refrained from engaging in things like these. Maybe out of professionalism as chief? Or maybe something beyond that? Who knows, you don't either.

Eleven’s fingers continued its ministrations, delicately curling through each strand of your hair—silk and soft between her digits.

“Forget I asked.” she’d speak, gazing into your eyes. “Do you know what I need you to do?” and now she’d muse, “I need you to close those cute little eyes of yours..”

Her hands now shifted, from the top of your head and then to its back. You protested, “I can sleep very fine by m-” and of course, you're hushed again.

With a simple push of her hand, your temples rested into her collarbone, head is snug underneath her chin—cheek pressed into her chest. Fuck it, you’re giving up already.

“Don’t keep acting detached, chief.” now she's humoring you, and it's even worse that you can sense a hint of sadness behind her tone. “Don’t think of anything else…”

With each second that passes, you feel your eyelids grow heavier—comparable to that of weights. And as if you're surrendering, you nuzzled into her.

You hear faint yet relaxing beats beneath her smooth skin, steady and rhythmic. Her heart is close to you.

In the dead of the night, the witch’s hour—Eleven has once again crept her way into your covers. A sneaky little minx, always pushing at your buttons; the pill to your insomnia, an enchantment better than a dream catcher. Eleven, oh how you love her.

—

Not even a second after you fully closed your eyes, the morning alarm sounded—and out of trauma from being late, your body jolted upwards.

Eleven was nowhere to be found, not even a memory of her scent is left into the pillow. You quickly reached for your phone, glancing at the screen. A notification bubble hung high.

“ I tricked you again, chief. Hopefully you slept well. ;) ”

You bit into your lip, suppressing a smile as you also held back the urge to throw the phone across the room. Fucking hell, Eleven. She did it again.

Finessing you with pillow talks, making you fall asleep—abusing her own supernatural ability to make you lose track of time, you did fall asleep but it felt like it was only for a few seconds. And that's all thanks to Eleven.

Forcefully and groggily pulling yourself out of bed, you’d march to the bathroom. Complete with the hours of sleep yet still tired, how fucking ironic.

That's what Eleven is good at.

Pushing you through lengths of comfort only to wake up tired again. Just as how her viewers suffered with Call at 3AM from staying up.

You hate and you do love these 3AM Nights.

[sajagz]

🌸 From One Mother’s Heart – Please Read 🌸

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

I Am Saja – A Mother Holding On Through the Return of War

My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didn’t have to live t

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

With love and endless gratitude

[wormymenace101]

I can not sit here and pretend I am normal about any of this

[sloanetriestowrite]

PATH TO NOWHERE : WHAT GOES ON WITHIN THE S-TIER'S GROUP CHAT?

— S tier mommies' reaction to a newly-arrested Angell.

SLOANE'S NOTE : While waiting for my beloved readers/followers to vote as to which topic should I write for, I made a meme to cope with how my babygirl Angell ran away from me. Anyway, this is all for the shits and giggles— to have a good laugh after angst.

CHARACTERS MENTIONED : Bai Yi , Zoya , Rahu , Shalom , Raven , Eleven , Angell , Cabernet, Langley , Hamel . . . (might be ooc..)

— I might make pt.2 as a continuation, maybe I'll write up a silly ff of it but who knows.