C-losur3 - ; Chloris

Seeing my damian blurbs doing vastly (doubly) better than my dick blurbs is sending me. >> in case it wasn't obvious, I'm a Dick Grayson girl all the way HAHAHHAAHAH

✨Sebastian Vettel propaganda hours✨

just you wait, sunshine. just you wait.

To the anon who requested the Charles one-shot, I’m so sorry that it’s been so long, my schedule is killing my writing time. 🥹

It’s in the works, I definitely want to flesh it out a little more!

Hopefully, my sched lightens so that I can get back to it. ( ´ ▽ ` )

Once again, thank you for the amazing prompt! <3

All the best! 💙

70???? AND 118?????

34 and 55 notes respectively on my first two daydream writing posts. That's a literally CRAZY, thank you guys! 💙💙💙

2010 rbr seb truly was a menace (adorable as hell but a little shit through and through).

send this to all your favourite moots and pass the pumpkin round! KEEP THE PUMPKIN TRAIN GOING 🎃🖤🎃🖤🎃

AAAH that’s so sweet of you, THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!!

*pulls out an uno reverse card*🧡🫶 I’ll be making a small bowl of pumpkin seafood soup, then.

(Lesser known bit of Chlo lore but I’m allergic to doses of pumpkin larger than a small cup 😭 which is so sad because I love pumpkin soup so so much and eating during the autumn season is like trying to avoid a dedicated and persistent hitman.)

Reality of Mothers in Palestine.

Crazy. Did not expect this at all !

Xiao🐦

...he ate too much tofu...

515 words, part 1 here! angst again, but I promise that we’re getting closer to comfort. Stay strong, Logan fans. I believe in you!

>> Warm thank yous for the warm reception 🫶. Ofc, this is all based on @disneyprincemuke ‘s amazing vr!universe.

Before you go, I wrote this fic with these songs in mind; tolerate it and story of us by taylor swift

He takes a brisk walk outside of your shared apartment. You’re behind him, running to catch up.

However, you’re stopped by multiple fans, and he doesn’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse.

It’s just another reminder of how different you both are.

Equal halves of the same puzzle, the same puzzle that become unequal, and one continues to grow as the other withers.

Logan doesn’t get stopped by anyone. And he bitterly wonders if it’ll be that way for the rest of time.

The taste of metallic blood tinges as he bites his lip too hard.

Of course, he’s never had a problem being just a planet orbiting around you and your bright stardom, akin to the sun. But, is that really all there is to him? Is that all he’s ever going to be?

He can hear you mingle and brush away fans after a few minutes, yelling at him to stop walking. It chips away at him, hearing your normally confident voice wobbly, but he reminds himself that at the end of the day, you’re going to find someone better.

He manages to avoid you for the next few months. Lovelorn, eyes downcast as he sees you on the news.

That’s all you are to each other now. Strangers passing by.

Intersecting lines are worse than being parallel, after all. You meet once and then it becomes nothing, something, only in the past.

He tells himself that he expected it, it was simply a matter of time.

Time is the cruelest factor. Your original plans to go on a trip together, the Disneyland plans for your anniversary, dashed, and gone.

You’ve always laughed together about the cliches of being a couple, being spotted at places together was something you snorted at. But to him, it was everything.

He was always fine with your level of success and fame versus his. But as time passed, it rusted the shine of young love.

The news articles splash you with stinging headlines and speculation.

They’ve taken one of two sides, either blaming you for changing after your short and seemingly effortless taste of fame. Or, blaming Logan for relying sheerly on your prolonged successes.

It hurt. But imagining him, reading all this, swallowing it whole, vulnerable and essentially left with the worst side of the break-up, hurt more.

That was the first time you’ve fully considered that you two weren’t together anymore.

Twin flames burning too close to the other’s side of the wick.

You see him tomorrow, at a quick press conference that was supposed to be your somewhat victory lap. It’s now seemingly become a celebration of what you’ve lost, you realize, as your eyes meet his.

Practiced speeches splayed on your side of the table from your PR team. They feel empty, without you two sitting beside each other. Each other who used to nudge and use every trick in the book for conferences like this to go off rails.

All traded for a simple and quick end to your long story together. A clean flourish of your shared history.