https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsurprisinglyRen/works Escaping Reality for a While. Wincest, a side of Sebaciel, caffeine and good company, what more can a girl need?
• Ren. Some may say unsurprisingly Ren. ☜╮(´ิ∀´ิ☜╮)
• wincest shipper! Sebaciel. Hannigram. I mean, the list could go on!
• coffee lover ☕️ caffeine is a necessary requirement to function at this point. The stronger, the better.
• writing is bae 💖
• used to be here before but life pulled the rug out from under me and I went MIA to cry for a bit. But I’m back! So if I had been following you before, interact so I can re-follow!! ❤️
• ao3: UnsurprisinglyRen (wincest fics mostly, but some sebaciel - I’m in the process of reposting everything)
Could Sebastian see it? The way Vincent was going under, a bubble of froth from between his lips, a wide-eyed desperation. Did he see the way Vincent lingered outside lecture halls for him, on-edge, held perpetually on the ledge between saying something and biting his tongue, swallowing it down, restraining the words behind teeth and tongue and an iron-clad will.
Surely, it was obvious. Rachel had seemed to think it was. It’s… him? She’d said, a sneer upon her lovely mouth. Gnarled on her soft face. Twisted up like Vincent’s innards had been when she’d figured it all out. A slosh and heave of something vital within him, come unstuck, come loose inside the cavity of his chest.
Perhaps it had been his lungs, squishy and tender and utterly useless, because he hadn’t been able to reply, a breathless sort of guilt teeming up his throat, crammed behind his tonsils. So that anything he might’ve said would have been closer to a sob than coherent words. Brittle and gossamer and inefficient in the face of Rachel’s unconcealed scorn.
She liked Sebastian. As a friend. She shared her text books with him, the expensive ones that cost an arm and a leg, and she invited him to dorm parties, included him. Yet, Vincent supposed having her boyfriend slip up, a clumsy miss-step, a shattering downfall, and admit to liking their shared best friend… well, he supposed he understood the scathing words and the crooked expression she’d worn.
The worst of it was that he’d not denied it. Held his silence, bit his tongue, accepted her censure and her tears and her eventual sharp-toned anger. She’d looked like an imitation of herself when she’d yelled at him, screaming so furiously he saw her molars, saw the way her chest rose and fell and her tears streaked her mascara.
That had been only hours ago. Before he’d fled the scene like he was guilty of a horrific crime. It felt that way. This wasn’t the way it was supposed to go. Not the way his father would ever accept. He’d left Rachel in her dorm room and returned to his. Forgoing his neatly made bed in favour of curling up in the shadowed little area inside his wardrobe.
Nestled amongst his hanging jeans and coats. Buried within their hems. The sweet-scented starch. Curled up like some child who was hiding away from the world. Only, he was hiding from the slow shattering of reality.
He’d seen the scorn in Rachel’s eyes at the prospect of him liking another man. Had seen it only because he’d stared enough at his own reflection and knew the particular look, cold and jagged-edged. His chest hurt. His lungs still unstuck. His heart felt like it might beat out of his chest. A sickening combination of adrenaline and self-loathing.
A burning threat of tears behind his eyes and in the back of his nose.
A sharp knock at the wardrobe door. As if anyone would think to politely knock. As if anyone would know he was sheltered within, captive in the small space. Precarious. Poised to break.
Unbidden, and because he had no other idea on what to say, he called out softly, “Come in.”
The wardrobe door vibrated as it was pulled open. Emitting the shadows of evening from the dorm room behind. He wasn’t surprised to see who was backlit by falling night, dressed in leather jacket and heavy frown.
“Thought I’d find you here.” Sebastian said, off-handed, lightly. Like he hadn’t just uncovered his best mate furled up and on the verge of tears.
“Did you?”
“Not really. But I couldn’t find you anywhere else. What happened?”
“Nothing.” Then, because his voice had cracked over that single word, giving him away, he added, firmer. “Just needed some time out.”
“Mm?” Sebastian glanced behind him as if checking the dorm was empty, then stepped inside with Vincent, which was an impressive feat considering Vincent’s knees were tucked almost to his chest to fit. “Mind if I join you? I have booze.”
“When don’t you?”
The wardrobe door was pried shut by the very tips of Sebastian’s fingertips. Darkness and shuffling sounds.
“Want some?”
“Yeah.”
“Thought so. Here,” and a bottle of tequila was being handed down to him as Sebastian lowered himself to the ground with a grace Vincent knew he certainly hadn’t embodied himself when he’d slid down the wall.
He balanced the bottle against his knees; the shadows were not so complete that he couldn’t make out the label. Agavie, French tequila. Pretentious prick. Yet, there was a certain type of warmth in the expected. For all Sebastian was here on a scholarship, he’d always been weak to the finer things life could offer. Expensive tequila one of them.
The sides of their knees were pressed tightly together by the time Sebastian was seated and settled in beside him. Painfully so. Heat through dark denim jeans and fine-weaved slacks. The shift of Sebastian’s boot against his dress shoe. Their shoulders pressed to the opposite walls of the cupboard. The bloated silence that followed felt stifling.
Vincent filled it by taking a swig of the tequila. A burn that momentarily distracted him. A thick swallow he wondered if Sebastian had heard. Wet and uneasy down his throat and he handed the drink back with a fumbling shove.
“Careful,” Sebastian murmured. He took a long swallow of it himself. Vincent didn’t look over at him to know how his throat looked working around it, the ivory pale skin of his jaw, slightly gritty with day old stubble. “It’s expensive.”
“I know. You have a weakness for fine things, you know that?”
“I wouldn’t call it a weakness. More of an affinity for pretty things.”
“Pretty? What’s so eye catching about it? The fancy French label or the shape of the bottle?”
“I wasn’t referring to the tequila, Vincent.” A pause, in which the bottle was placed in the slither of space between their shoes and the wardrobe door. The thin line of brighter shadow from the crack underneath the door casting a faint shadow around the bottle. Then, “Rachel’s crashing out.”
A slosh of his deflated lungs inside his chest. “Still?” he tried to keep it nonchalant and failed by about a mile.
“Did you expect anything less?” Sebastian wanted to know.
“I don’t know. I hadn’t expected her to…”
“Find out?”
“You know?”
“You mean, do I know you like me? Vincent, it’s deplorably obvious.”
Oh. “Oh. Right.”
A weight at his side when Sebastian shifted a fraction. In the confined space it felt much more than the miniscule movement it was. Made Vincent’s whole body clench up, his stomach stuck to the back of his spine from how stiff he was holding himself. A fissure of unease. A moment that was unfilled, fleeting, yet it seemed to last a lifetime.
“But you were right about me having a soft spot for the finer things. So, I don’t mind. Was counting on it, in fact.”
“Counting on me crushing on you?”
“Always.”
“Bullshit. Since when?”
“Since the beginning.”
Hah. As if. “You’ve had countless girlfriends. You have one currently.”
“We’re not official. And she’s not you. She’s half-strength beer whereas you’re… well,” a huff of amusement as he leaned forward and plucked up the tequila bottle, “fancy French tequila.”
“Smooth.”
“Says the guy hiding in the closet.”
“I’m not hiding.”
“No? Then why’d I have to crawl in with you?”
“That was your choice.”
“Mm. Perhaps.” The fluid sound of sloshing tequila as he took a swallow. Another. “Liquid courage?” the bottle was held out. He took it. “Might give you the confidence to come out the closet.”
“I can see what you’re doing, you know. You’re not subtle.”
“Can you? I can barely see my knees.”
“Sebastian.”
“I mean it. About the coming out thing. There’s no judgement from my way. And Rachel’ll get over the shock of it. She can be exasperatingly naïve.”
“I hid it well.”
“Not as much as you thought you did. I always knew. Always hoped, anyway.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I like pretty things and you’re very pretty.”
“Don’t give me that. I hear you say that to all the girls you bag.”
“Then you mishear. I’ve never called them pretty.”
“You’ve called them a lot of things though. Gorgeous, beautiful, clever. The list could go on.”
“I’ve no doubt.” Sebastian reached over, a knock of his elbow against Vincent’s knee, a bloom of heat in Vincent’s stomach that had nothing to do with the tequila. “Pass it, if you’re not going to drink it.” Vincent did so, swallowing convulsively. Willing away the teeming heat inside of him. A low-burbling thing.
After a second, in which Sebastian chugged the bottle halfway empty, Vincent said, voice held low and quiet, as though sharing a secret or, more to the point, a jagged bit of his inner fear, “You’re not weirded out?”
“I’ve liked you a lot longer than you’ve liked me, Vincent. I’m overjoyed. Rock hard. Bursting at the seams. But weirded out? Fuck no.”
“You’re making it weird.”
“Am I? Better kiss me and shut me up then.”
A laugh, shocked and unexpected and echoing in the small space between them. “Seriously?”
“Utterly.”
“I – I’ve never… kissed a man before.”
“I know.”
“I wouldn’t know how.”
“It’s not much different than kissing a woman, Vincent. You can’t really mess it up.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready for that. Just yet… maybe… maybe later?”
“Later is ambiguous.” The bottle was placed back down in front of them. “But I won’t push you. I dare say having Rachel shouting in your face was rather jarring. Bit of a mood killer. I heard her a floor up.”
“She has a right to be upset.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. If she’s gullible enough to overlook her boyfriend pining for his best friend… well, that’s just natural selection. She got what she deserved. Though, I’d argue you didn’t. She said some lowly things to you.”
“She’s not gullible.” Vincent said, ignoring the last part of the sentence. You’ll ruin your family’s name. To lower yourself to desire a man? If it gets out, you’ll be nothing, no one. Rachel had screamed it all, a bellow of hurt and fear and betrayal.
“Homophobic, then.”
“She’s upset and scared.”
“What do you think homophobia implies, Vincent?” drawling voice, the shift of a black denim covered knee against his.
“Rachel’s not like that.” Only, she’d been exactly like that, cursing him out, a flinty bit of hatred in her pale eyes. Off-set by the tears wet on her cheeks. Vincent felt a tug of remorse. The old, festering sting of guilt rawing his insides. A scrape and slash and evisceration of his fragile self-restraint.
And oh shit. The tears refused to be pushed back down this time. Scalding and trailing down his face like ribbons of fresh blood. He was never more thankful that he’d chosen to bury himself into the back of his wardrobe, hidden in the shadows and hems, as he was now.
“She doesn’t deserve your tears.”
“I’m not crying.”
“I can hear you sniffling.”
“It’s the dust.”
“Here,” and Sebastian was moving, not just shifting a slight fraction, but turning and bringing himself up on to his knees, kneeling awkwardly in the cramped space, and Vincent flinched when he reached out, knocking his temple up against the wall, before he tamped down on his flighty reaction and held very still. “Did you concuss yourself?” Sebastian asked with barely concealed mirth.
Vincent gave the hazy, darkened shape beside him a tapered stare. Bland. Entirely faux, for his heart was clamouring in the stuffy confines of his throat at the gentle touch to his jaw, a caress of Sebastian’s knuckles, then higher, wiping away the wetness at his cheek. The other side.
“What are you doing?”
“The Samba.” Flat and coupled the infinitesimally soft swipe of his thumb against Vincent’s cheekbone. “I’m comforting you.”
Since when did Sebastian Michaelis think of anyone’s wellbeing save for his own? It struck Vincent awry; heat and disquiet. Contrary emotions. “I’m okay.” He muttered.
“Bullshit.”
And yeah, yeah. Maybe it was. A bold little white-lie to shield himself from the truth of the matter. From the fallout that would surely come. He didn’t know if Rachel would calm down, he didn’t know if he’d inadvertently lost her for good. But… but Sebastian was here. In the warm confines of Vincent’s wardrobe, crunched up and cupping Vincent’s face in a way that made his throat tight and his stomach over-hot and his lungs to forget how to breathe.
“I don’t know what comes next.” He admitted. Thoroughly displaced. His neat reality misplaced somewhere within Rachel’s dormitory. Fickle now. Irreversibly broken. He couldn’t wear it again. It would be ill-fitting now. Like a suit that was a touch too tight across the shoulders, badly tailored, constricting.
“Yes, you do. You finish the tequila, anymore for me and I won’t be able to stand, you’ll be dragging from for the closet. There might even be vomit involved –”
“I hope the fuck not.”
“And then you’re going to let me kiss you. I promise I don’t bite. Unless you ask me to. And then, after that, you’re going to go to bed and sleep on it all. You’ll feel clearer headed in the morning. When’s the last time you slept, anyway?”
“It’s been a while. Midterms are kicking me arse.”
“It’s because you take them too seriously.”
“And you don’t.”
“Which is why I’m well rested and you look like you might crash at any given moment.”
“Nah. Rachel’s already crashed out enough for the both of us.”
“Not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Drink, then kiss me.”
Sebastian removed his hand. Leaving a chill upon Vincent’s jaw when he did so. He didn’t go far because he couldn’t. Unless he merged with the plastered wall. Or chew through it like a ravenous rodent. He did neither of those things, instead, he handed Vincent the tequila and watched him throw it back.
It was heat in his throat. Liquid fire in his gut. It muddled his head nicely. A pleasant sort of reprieve from the sharper thoughts circling his mind. He didn’t have time to place the empty bottle down before Sebastian was leaning down and in, dark, fuzzy shape, smelling of spicy aftershave and warm tequila and something else, something other.
Vincent, tequila bottle clutched to his chest with both hands, didn’t throw his head into the wall at the touch of fingertips under his chin this time. Holding himself as still as his heart was not. Breathing not at all. A held breath, a skimming of warm fingers along his jaw, the teasing touch against the shell of his ear, then, all at once and before he was quite ready, the swoop in.
The fizzing, taut moment between feeling Sebastian’s breath against his upper lip, a peremptory breath from the man, and the press of his mouth against Vincent’s own, felt too quick, too feeble. A fleeting moment in which to prepare himself.
And oh, but it was much the same as kissing Rachel. Only Sebastian’s mouth wasn’t sticky with the vanilla-frosting scented gloss Rachel liked to wear. It was firm and unyielding against Vincent’s. Not a chaste press, though far from an open-mouthed thing. Insistent and persistent and Vincent heard the thud of the tequila bottle falling to the floor as he reached up, gripping handfuls of leather lapels and drawing Sebastian closer.
A rush of breath between them when Sebastian pulled away briefly, too close for Vincent to focus on properly, though, he thought he saw the man’s patented smirk; warm-edged and tucked up, very pleased, achingly soft. And then they were kissing again. Properlykissing.
A tug at Vincent’s chin as Sebastian angled the kiss deeper. A slippery, spit-drenched thing, that might’ve been too overwhelming had it of been anyone else demanding it of him. But it was Sebastian, cupping his face and gripping Vincent’s thigh, holding him in place as if Vincent had any room to escape. As if he’d ever want to escape such rapture.
Held within the shadowy space of his wardrobe, a slick of salvia trailing down his chin, Sebastian’s fingers digging into his thigh from holding himself in his awkward crouch, with the starched shirt tails and neat-hemmed trouser legs, in the midst of his reality crumbling to dust and ash around him, Vincent was held safe, held steady, facing the maelstrom with a belly full of pretentious French tequila and the taste of his best friend upon his tongue.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. He didn’t want to think, to worry, to agonise over it. He wanted to draw Sebastian closer, to breathe in the scent of heat and desire and sharp tequila and pretend that when dawn rose pale on the horizon, that he’d figure it out. Wing it, as Sebastian so often did.
A soft noise against his tongue, the hand at his jaw moved to grip the nape of his neck, a breaking of the long, breathless kiss. “You alright?”
Vincent didn’t know. But the words had been spoken against his lips, as though Sebastian wasn’t ready to pull away just yet, and it was enough incentive for him to hope. To speak words which weren’t entirely false this time.
“I think so.”
And maybe that was all he could do. Will his shattered reality back into a concentrated whole again. It would reform differently, of course. It had to. Broken things could never be remade the same. They bore the thin, spider-webbing cracks, scuffed and fragile, marred from what broke them. But, as with all things in life, with time and effort those marks would fade and perhaps, what was left in their place would shine brighter than what was there before.
Vincent returning home after a long, gruelling day of work meetings, shrill-voiced secretaries and entitled colleagues to Ciel …
…curled up asleep on the couch, hair tousled in soft disarray, one hand tucked beneath his cheek. A bare, coltish leg stretched bare across the leather cushions of the couch, the hem of Vincent’s dress shirt ridden indecently high. The luscious curve of his hip, pale skin mottled with bruises; some blue, others purple, dark and fresh, yellowing at the edges. And compounding that, a single bite mark placed with deliberate intent.
Ownership.
(It was difficult to say whether it had been he or Sebastian who left that mark. Not that the distinction mattered. Between the two of them, there was little difference in appetite. A voracious lust for the boy, an all consuming hunger that could neither easily be staved nor fully satisfied, only ever temporarily sated. Always leaving the both of them coming back for more, more, more.)
(They’d all seen to that. One way or another. For better or for worse.)
The trim line of the boy’s waist. The slow, steady rise and fall of his chest as he slept. Sleepy, spoiled baby.
Lost in sleep, the boy appeared softer like this. There was an air of unguarded vulnerability to him that rarely surfaced in waking hours, when he was all restless complaint and pouting irritation, witty retorts lingering on the tip of his tongue. Warmth flushed his cheeks a rosy hue, lashes fluttering now and then, his mouth parted, the bow of his lips the softest shade of pink there ever was or could be.
(I digress. Vincent should blow off some steam. I am sure ciel would love to help him.)
Holy- wow!!! A true wordsmith. My ask box has been blessed this day!! My eyes have feasted!!! You have such a way with words 🤌🏻🤭🫠 was I just watching a film right now while reading your words?? Abso-fucking-lutely. Top tier writing 🙌🏻
I sometimes like to indulge the mental vision of Vincent and Sebastian sitting in the former’s bathtub, water soaking into their clothes, and smoking without a single word exchanged between them.
GODDAMN!!! This. This. THISTHISTHIS!! Thank you, anon, this is delectable. Omggggg.
There was something concealed behind Sebastian’s eyes. A slippery, sinuous thing. Not quite jagged. Not exactly blunt, either. A convoluted emotion Vincent didn’t know how to name. Wasn’t sure it even had a name, or if it was merely a gossamer thing. No more substantial than the drift of cigarette smoke above their heads.
Smoke and steam and the unsettling, visceral sensation of being set upon by a predator. Yet, Sebastian was entirely still at the opposite end of the bathtub, his soaked jeans clinging to the hills of his knees – bent up out of necessity or else they’d definitely not fit together in the tub – and he lifted his half-withered cigarette to his lips slowly, eyes never leaving Vincent’s gaze.
Unwavering, unremitting.
It was an itch down the length of Vincent’s spine, pinging off of every notch. A shiver through his stomach as he watched the man take a long drag; a hollowing of his cheeks. A bluish-grey rush of smoke from between his lips. A flutter of dark eyelashes.
There didn’t need to be any words between them. Not tonight. Not with the stench of cigarette smoke between them. The open can of beer in Sebastian’s other hand. The glass of plum-red merlot set on the corner of the bath. A precarious thing.
Vincent felt the same way. Precarious. Spillable.
One overt move or word from Sebastian and he feared his self-control – a thin, frayed-edged thing as of late – would liquify entirely. A seep of it out of his pores.
A retreat of his senses.
A spill of bathwater over the side of the bathtub. A puddle of it seeping across the cold tiles. A frenetic coupling.
Perhaps, Sebastian knew how close to the edge Vincent was. For tipped his head back a small fraction, enough to show of the damp, pale length of his neck. A bead of water or perhaps perspiration trailing down the hollow of it.
One more glass of merlot coursing through his bloodstream and Vincent might’ve levered himself up onto his knees – a drenching of his shirttails, a lurch behind his naval – and leaned in to lick it clean.
It seemed a sin to engage in such a thing without his kid there to buffer things.
Yet, his slacks were decidedly tighter than they rightfully should be, sitting clothed within his bathtub, a belly for of merlot and an eyeful of Sebastian Michaelis. Smoke haze. Thick steam.
The stretching silence as he held out his hand, asking silently for the half-finished cigarette.
Sebastian handed it over with a quirk of his dark eyebrow, well aware Vincent rarely, if ever, smoked. A brief brush of their fingers. A heat unspooling inside of Vincent’s innards. Vicious and all-consuming. Overwhelming.
He took a drag to dampen the want to move closer. Exhaling his lungful of smoke off to the side. A long breath. A minute shift from Sebastian, the press of his foot against Vincent’s own. As if by mistake.
However, when Vincent lifted his eyes once more to meet his best friends, he saw the indutible proof that it was far from accidental.
A stare of a hunter after its prey. That’s what he saw. And, unbidden, he wanted to break the silence between them and ask, what is it you want, Michaelis?
Perhaps his gaze said it anyway, for Sebastian’s mouth tucked up at one corner. Not quite a smirk. Wholly pleased, mind you. And, pitch and crimson stare, he replied, everything you’ll allow me to have. I want it all. Every. Last. Piece of you.
Egotistical bastard.
Yet, Vincent’s chest was over-warm and thrumming with his heartbeat. A sticky heat taking up residence inside his ribcage.
He loathed the fact that he’d give this man anything, everything, he desired.
I have a fairly strict rule about not tweaking my published fics no matter how glaring the flaw or how entirely my ideas have changed because it is DONE NOW but i am occasionally struck by my own idiocy in making NoS Vincent work in graphic design. Truly inane oversight tbh. That man has the soul of a dentist
Thinking about the idea of ten year old Sam finding a teddy bear under his motel bed, clearly accidentally left behind by a previous resident.
That bear ends up being one of Sam's closest companions for the next few years. It never leaves his side. Everywhere he goes, that bear is there hanging from his hand. With time, John even frustratingly accepts that Sam buckles the damn thing into the impala seat next to him on drives.
Obviously, Dean gives his little brother so much shit for his devotion to that teddy. He teases Sam relentlessly about how childish it is, or hides it when Sam isn't watching just to get a reaction from him.
When Sam eventually loses his precious teddy while they're on the road, he's beside himself.
And of course it's Dean - always the teasing and mean big brother - who drops everything and makes it his mission the next day to find a replacement teddy bear for Sam.
The fact that I stumbled across this post and then promptly lost it and now it’s been blessedly uncovered thanks to a lovely dove ( @according2thelore ) has me appreciating this masterpiece all the more!!!
YOU MUST STAY STRONG, REN!!! LIFE, THOUGH BEAUTIFUL AT TIMES, IS BUT ANOTHER BITCH TRYING TO FUCK YOU OVER!!!
⤷ me to life right now ৻( •̀ ᗜ •́ ৻)
But also, you're so damn sweet, anon!!! I hope you're doing well and if not we'll square up to the bitch trying to fuck us over (life) and give it hell.... or, y'know, a mediocre punch against the jaw. But, it'll know we mean business. It'll know, anon (ง'̀-'́)ง
Hm…ciel, when he is old enough, getting Vincent’s name tattooed on his inner thigh in elegant, bold script? Black ink and sharp lines that are stark against the pallor of his flesh.
Say more!!!! OMFG!!! Can you imagine???? How depraved to tattoo your father's (daddy's, in Ciel case, let's be frfr) name on your inner thigh!! I'm in love with this idea!!!! Vincent would go abso-fucking-lutely FERAL!! Which would be the exact reaction Ciel would be seeking.
( ≖‿ ≖ )Heehee~
Also, apologies for this blasphemously late reply!!! Someone send in the cavalry, this bitch is being utterly massacred by real life.
Luv ya though, anon!!!! And many thanks for feeding my ask box (and me) this yummy treat! (∩˃o˂∩)♡
Sometimes I wish Vincent smoked in modern au ;) not a regular smoker like Seb, but maybe just sometimes when he’s stressed? I think he’d look really hot while smoking (ciel and Sebastian would probably agree). And imagine him and Seb sharing a cigarette kiss or Vincent putting his cigarette out on Sebastian when’s he’s pissed off at him ;3
(I hope your hiatus is going well, Ren :)
🆘 THIS BITCH DOWN!!!! Helpppp!!! I wish I had of thought to add a scene into Chalk like that omfg!!! The way your mind works is ✨perfection✨
My hiatus is going well! Lots of caffeine and switch games and the occasional obligatory walk in the sunshine ☀️ I hope you’re doing well, lovely dove! Thank you for feeding me well with this ask! 💖💖
Jarred reader here, tapping on the glass and saying hi!
I binge read your fic between yesterday and today, left a bunch of comments, then came here to check if you'd left any notes because I was (pleasantly) surprised you suddenly posted all those chapters at once.
Just wanted you to know that I'm absolutely ready to beat up the entire world with a bat (as soon as I escape from my jar) if it doesn't show you the infinite kindness you deserve. I only know you through your writing and your lovely replies to the comments I leave, but you sound so sweet and full of light to give to the world (idk how else to put it but I don't mean it in a creepy religious way lol) I can only wish you the best and hope your hiatus (as well as the rest of your life obviously) brings about the nicest things you can think of, both from the outside world and from within yourself.
I'm sure you already know how much I appreciate your writing and how giddy I get when I see you've posted something new, so, I just want to thank you for sharing everything you've posted so far. It's so obvious you put a lot of care and dedication into those stories and being able to read them was a privilege. As I said in my last comment, whenever a new work posted by UnsurprisinglyRen appears under the tag, I'm gonna be the first in line devouring it as if an evil guy with an evil hat cursed me so I can only survive by eating yummy fics. In the meantime I hope that you're taking good care of yourself and that you always remember how amazing you are.
If you're the sociable type and you ever wanna chat about anything, be it Sebaciel or Italian crema di caffè recipes, my inbox is open (even though I admittedly only open this app like once a month)!
In any case *does a backflip and a million flowers somehow erupt from the glass jar, blessing your day/night*
𓏋 *excitedly shakes you in your glass prison* I’M SOBBING!!!! This has honestly made my depression retreat, shivering in its britches, because this message is BEYOND lovely. It’s so sweet and my teeth are currently rotting out my gums. In the best way possible.
You’ve no idea how much this means to me!!!
ALSO!! Before I reply in earnest, the comments you left have fed me well. I’m plump and contented and going to reply to each and every one and give them the time they deserve. Because you’ve always gone above and beyond to leave such in-depth and amazing comments!! Like??? Help!!! I’M GOING RABID OVER THEM?!!! So please don’t think they’re going ignored! I shall give them the time they deserve when I can get a chance to settle in (coffee in hand, depression shivering like the coward it is in the corner) and reply to each and every one! ✨
Honestly, life’s been meh (and that’s me not wanting to offend it btw, because being alive is a gift but c’mon life...cut a gal some slack?) and having you reach out and say such kind and lovely things has bolstered me more than you could ever know. I knew I captured you in your little glass home for a reason 😉😂 no, but seriously, you’re such an amazingly beautiful person and I’m saying that with my whole chest. I don’t know you personally but anyone who reaches out and says such kindhearted words is an absolute blessing to this world AND to me. You have no idea how much your kindness has brightened my day 💖
I'm gonna be the first in line devouring it as if an evil guy with an evil hat cursed me so I can only survive by eating yummy fics.
I’m CACKLING!! Omg ilysm (in a very demure, normal, non-creepy way) this was perfect! 🤣🤣🙌🏻 and THANK YOU for being my biggest cheerleader! The next fic I write I’m gifting it to you 💯. Might even release you from your jar. Uncork it and allow you to go free 👀
Hope you're okay, your writing is such a gift to the fandom and I hope you know how much we appreciate you. Wishing you all the best xx
This is so sweet (˃̣̣̥᷄ε˂̣̣̥᷅•)♡ thank you for reaching out, lovely dove!! I appreciate it so much.
I’m hanging in there. And for anyone else struggling, I humbly offer this Dr. Seuss quote 🥹🤭
I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me! ~ Dr. Seuss
I hope you’re doing well! And please know this ask was such a lovely thing to wake up to!
I’m going on a hiatus so I’m posting all the chapters of my newest Sebaciel fic all at once, as it's a gift fic and I don't want to leave it unfinished.
Thank you to all my lovely mutuals and everyone who supported me on Ao3 over the years! Ilysm!! And I hope you all have amazingly blessed lives.
