ruewyn
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Ivan does not hesitate. Hesitation would be noticed. It would be recorded, remembered, held. Instead, he swallows without chewing. Whatever is biting into his stomach twists there, forcing it into a knotty mess, pushing the swallowed pieces back up his throat. He quashes it anyway, pressing everything down, tamps the reaction flat, and keeps still until the watching eye finds nothing to seize.
( Or, time lingers only in the living: one, once younger, now alone in its quiet passage, while the other rests frozen, unchanging. The insects are absent, and yet the silence speaks. Death itself becomes a record. )
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lacuna (n.)
pronounced: /laˈkjuːnə/
plural: lacunae, lacunas- an absence by one’s side, nestled in the crook of the neck; a space carved for another.
- a lingering trail of gaps, left behind by wounds; a proof of existence, a record of life.
- a hollow cavity between one’s ribs, formed around longing; a silence woven between notes.
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Anakt’s 50th class have a field trip to the beach.
“The sky opening up,” Ivan said, “could explain the state after a heavy rainpour, the beginning rays of the sun shining through after an insistent darkness.” Thoughtfully, his eyes had glanced in Till’s direction before turning back to the ceiling above them, where a pixel in the middle of a static cloud flickered. “It was also, some believed, a description of an event that happened during the end of everything. A remaking of sorts. A splitting of the world. Fascinating, no?”
One of Till’s hands had cupped itself over the other, rubbing at each of his knuckles in turn. They’re not too different, he thought. An ending to all of this would be a kind of clearing too.
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Bookmarked by ruewyn
12 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
« The lack of permanence slowly but surely has him writing nonsense, such as why? and if only »
wonderfully fascinating ♡
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An insight into how Till's luck is going: his new stalker is unfortunately very cute.
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Bookmarked by ruewyn
12 Feb 2026
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Constellation of the Jelly Star by pinecow for carmenile
Fandoms: Alien Stage (Web Series)
07 Jan 2026
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At home, it seemed everything could be a coincidence, the identicality of every room, her eight adopted sisters who sat at a range between two years older and two years younger than Sua herself, who all had round eyes and dark hair, who were all always dressed in thick satin frills, and whose birthdays fell in succession during the last three months of the year. It was arbitrary yet surgical, the precision with which their mother decided what was worth loving in her children.
Sua would try to deal with this suffocating sameness in small reminders that she could be different, if only in the length of her fingernails, the skew of her smile, the undisciplined shrill of her voice when her sides were tickled. The truth is, she learned these small triumphs from Mizi who already had many strange enthusiasms as a child which gave her a personhood, such as running in circles until she fell over and coming to rest against Sua to mumble with an unwavering passion about nonsense until she made herself break into a fit of giggles.
Every train eventually reaches its destination. Sua has spent her life convinced she could always hear its encroaching whistle chasing her.
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Bookmarked by ruewyn
11 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
« It’s calming in a way, having such a physical manifestation of her separation from the world. »
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the laws of refraction of light by anumone_7 for nemoys
Fandoms: Alien Stage (Web Series)
01 Jan 2026
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"So, what do you need me to do?" Ivan asks, placing his chin on his arm. "Should I pose as I did for that soap advertisement? Lean back on my elbows against the pillows? Perhaps your classmates would enjoy such a visual? I understand that with your workload, dating opportunities are scarce, and I happen to know my looks are at least a little beyond passable to particularly desperate souls."
Till bites his bottom lip to keep from scowling. He would be damned before he allows any of his own classmates get such ideas about Ivan. Ivan's classmates are already a pain in the ass as is. Still, it is better if their fantasies stay limited to Ivan's polished exterior, devoid of any of the chips or cracks, such as the ones around his mouth, where his real joy lies.
If anyone ever found out the way Ivan likes to lick the bottom of the mug with the broken handle after drinking his chocolate milk, Till might just have to kill himself.
(Three photoshoots between photography student Till and his model, best friend... and whatever else.)
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Bookmarked by ruewyn
05 Feb 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
« The adjectives Till likes to use for Ivan lack the edge. Silly. Annoyingly smart. Clingy. Annoyingly endearing. In his mouth, there are only all vowels, with all rounded corners. »
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“I doubt that so much is written about the mystery of love for it to be as simple as that.” Ivan adjusts how he’s sitting to get a little closer to Till, so that they’re less across from one another and more side-by-side. Till doesn't shift away. “I’d say it’s human to want to be taken care of.”
“Fuck if I know,” Till sighs. “Fuck. If. I. Know.”
“Thankfully, life is about finding the answers, not having them.” Ivan shifts so that their shoulders touch, one of the plastic leaves catching on his cat-ear headband.
(Or: Present-day Chicago, teeming with werewolves and vampires alike. Till, a werewolf, finds a very unlikely friend in Ivan, a vampire.)
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Bookmarked by ruewyn
28 Jan 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
biting music, werewolves, vampires, and ofc till and ivan! « bonus points if there’s a fresh sweet cherry on top instead of a maraschino cherry, meant to match your eyes when you’re glowing in the sun. »