blueduplicity

[blueduplicity]

AI defenders will make it seem as if art is this gatekept pastime that only the most elite can partake in and they’re making it possible for the “normies” to create meanwhile one of the most memorable pieces of recent art I’ve ever seen is “My son’s drawing of safe”

[blueduplicity]

x reader should be (and, generally speaking, often is) the most accepting fanfiction space because its consistently, and almost exclusively an expression or fantasy of being desired or wanted or wanting—or in an even more basic sense, considered. even if you dont explicitly self-insert, even if there’s a an oc thats just you but better or a faceless insert u make - it starts with the same premise. which is wanting to be seen or desired by some extension of who you are. or wanting to fantasize explicitly about a life that isn’t yours, any life but yours. its admitting more openly than other mediums—i want someone to want some part of me. to take interest in me sexually or romantically or platonically. i want this element of myself to be considered or thought of. sometimes that is accomplished through writing, and sometimes that is accomplished through reading and seeking to bits of yourself in other peoples. the other half is having space to want and yearn for something else. how liberating it is to admit that you’d like to be somewhere else.

and it is hardly a flawless medium and im really, really simplifying it but i do think that there is something uniquely enjoyable and freeing about it. i want agency in the stories i love. i want my presence to haunt this fiction like a ghost. i want to be loved, i want to be interesting. i want to experience hundreds of lives that aren’t mine. i want i want i want. this a story of you. this is a story of me.

[blueduplicity]

xreader fic is so inherently healing like

do you love yourself? no? that's okay this character you love loves you back. are you kind? that is why they love you. are you patient? that is why they love you. are you a coward are you shy are you brave are you bold are you bratty? that is why they love you. you are loved and you will not be punished for seeking love. you are loved and you will find it here in these words.

do you love yourself yet? no? that's okay this character can love you until you do. this character will point out the few traits you can relate with yourself (your smile, your laugh, you brattiness, your whimsy, your strength, your sorrow) and tell you that they love that about you until one day you can love it, if not yourself, too.

do you love yourself yet? no? but you're starting to accept that you can be loved? that there is something in you- your awkwardness, your bashfulness, your straightforward mind, you ability to heal, your ability to fight- that someone could look at and learn to adore? well done. you're right, this character does see that and adore it. you may not love yourself just now, just yet, but now you see right? That there is something to love in you?

[blueduplicity]

110,000 words into my rafayel fic and its not even a finished rough draft something is telling me I'm gonna have to make it a chaptered fic...

This was supposed to be a one-shot wtf happened

[blueduplicity]

Things That May Be Causing Your Writer's Block- and How to Beat Them

I don't like the term 'Writer's Block' - not because it isn't real, but because the term is so vague that it's useless. Hundreds of issues all get lumped together under this one umbrella, making writer's block seem like this all-powerful boogeyman that's impossible to beat. Worse yet, it leaves people giving and receiving advice that is completely ineffective because people often don't realize they're talking about entirely different issues.

In my experience, the key to beating writer's block is figuring out what the block even is, so I put together a list of Actual Reasons why you may be struggling to write:

(note that any case of writer's block is usually a mix of two or more)

Perfectionism (most common)

What it looks like:

You write one sentence and spend the next hour googling "synonyms for ___"

Write. Erase. Write. Rewrite. Erase.

Should I even start writing this scene when I haven't figured out this one specific detail yet?

I hate everything I write

Cringing while writing

My first draft must be perfect, or else I'm a terrible writer

Things that can help:

Give yourself permission to suck

Keep in mind that nothing you write is going to be perfect, especially your first draft

Think of writing your first/early drafts not as writing, but sketching out a loose foundation to build upon later

People write multiple drafts for a reason: write now, edit later

Stop googling synonyms and save that for editing

Write with a pen to reduce temptation to erase

Embrace leaving blank spaces in your writing when you can't think of the right word, name, or detail

It's okay if your writing sucks. We all suck at some point. Embrace the growth mindset, and focus on getting words on a page

Lack of inspiration (easiest to fix)

What it looks like:

Head empty, no ideas

What do I even write about???

I don't have a plot, I just have an image

Want to write but no story to write

Things that can help:

Google writing prompts

If writing prompts aren't your thing, instead try thinking about what kind of tropes/genres/story elements you would like to try out

Instead of thinking about the story you would like to write, think about the story you would like to read, and write that

It's okay if you don't have a fully fleshed out story idea. Even if it's just an image or a line of dialogue, it's okay to write that. A story may or may not come out of it, but at least you got the creative juices flowing

Stop writing. Step away from your desk and let yourself naturally get inspired. Go for a walk, read a book, travel, play video games, research history, etc. Don't force ideas, but do open up your mind to them

If you're like me, world-building may come more naturally than plotting. Design the world first and let the story come later

Boredom/Understimulation (lost the flow)

What it looks like:

I know I should be writing but uugggghhhh I just can'tttttt

Writing words feels like pulling teeth

I started writing, but then I got bored/distracted

I enjoy the idea of writing, but the actual process makes me want to throw my laptop out the window

Things that can help:

Introduce stimulation: snacks, beverages, gum, music such as lo-fi, blankets, decorate your writing space, get a clickity-clackity keyboard, etc.

Add variety: write in a new location, try a new idea/different story for a day or so, switch up how you write (pen and paper vs. computer) or try voice recording or speech-to-text

Gamify writing: create an arbitrary challenge, such as trying to see how many words you can write in a set time and try to beat your high score

Find a writing buddy or join a writer's group

Give yourself a reward for every writing milestone, even if it's just writing a paragraph

Ask yourself whether this project you're working on is something you really want to be doing, and be honest with your answer

Intimidation/Procrastination (often related to perfectionism, but not always)

What it looks like:

I was feeling really motivated to write, but then I opened my laptop

I don't even know where to start

I love writing, but I can never seem to get started

I'll write tomorrow. I mean next week. Next month? Next month, I swear (doesn't write next month)

Can't find the time or energy

Unreasonable expectations (I should be able to write 10,000 words a day, right????)

Feeling discouraged and wondering why I'm even trying

Things that can help:

Follow the 2 min rule (or the 1 paragraph rule, which works better for me): whenever you sit down to write, tell yourself that you are only going to write for 2 minutes. If you feel like continuing once the 2 mins are up, go for it! Otherwise, stop. Force yourself to start but DO NOT force yourself to continue unless you feel like it. The more often you do this, the easier it will be to get started

Make getting started as easy as possible (i.e. minimize barriers: if getting up to get a notebook is stopping you from getting started, then write in the notes app of your phone)

Commit to a routine that will work for you. Baby steps are important here. Go with something that feels reasonable: every day, every other day, once a week, twice a week, and use cues to help you remember to start. If you chose a set time to write, just make sure that it's a time that feels natural to you- i.e. don't force yourself to writing at 9am every morning if you're not a morning person

Find a friend or a writing buddy you can trust and talk it out or share a piece of work you're proud of. Sometimes we just get a bit bogged down by criticism- either internal or external- and need a few words of encouragement

The Problem's Not You, It's Your Story (or Outline (or Process))

What it looks like:

I have no problems writing other scenes, it's just this scene

I started writing, but now I have no idea where I'm going

I don't think I'm doing this right

What's an outline?

Drowning in documents

This. Doesn't. Make. Sense. How do I get from this plot point to this one?!?!?! (this ColeyDoesThings quote lives in my head rent free cause BOY have I been there)

Things That Can Help:

Go back to the drawing board. Really try to get at the root of why a scene or story isn't working

A part of growing as a writer is learning when to kill your darlings. Sometimes you're trying to force an idea or scene that just doesn't work and you need to let it go

If you don't have an outline, write one

If you have an outline and it isn't working, rewrite it, or look up different ways to structure it

You may be trying to write as a pantser when you're really a plotter or vice versa. Experiment with different writing processes and see what feels most natural

Study story structures, starting with the three act structure. Even if you don't use them, you should know them

Check out Ellen Brock on YouTube. She's a professional novel editor who has a lot of advice on writing strategies for different types of writers

Also check out Savage Books on YouTube (another professional story editor) for advice on story structure and dialogue. Seriously, I cannot recommend this guy enough

Executive Dysfunction, Usually From ADHD/Autism

What it looks like:

Everything in boredom/understimulation

Everything in intimidation/procrastination

You have been diagnosed with and/or have symptoms of ADHD/Autism

Things that can help:

If you haven't already, seek a diagnosis or professional treatment

Hire an ADHD coach or other specialist that can help you work with your brain (I use Shimmer; feel free to DM me for a referral)

Seek out neurodiverse communities for advice and support

Try body doubling! There's lot's of free online body doubling websites out there for you to try. If social anxiety is a barrier, start out with writing streams such as katecavanaughwrites on Twitch

Be aware of any sensory barriers that may be getting in the way of you writing (such as an uncomfortable desk chair, harsh lighting, bad sounds)

And Lastly, Burnout, Depression, or Other Mental Illness

What it looks like:

You have symptoms of burnout or depression

Struggling with all things, not just writing

It's more than a lack of inspiration- the spark is just dead

Things that can help:

Forget writing for now. Focus on healing first.

Seek professional help

If you feel like it, use writing as a way to explore your feelings. It can take the form of journaling, poetry, an abstract reflection of your thoughts, narrative essays, or exploring what you're feeling through your fictional characters. The last two helped me rediscover my love of writing after I thought years of depression had killed it for good. Just don't force yourself to do so, and stop if it takes you to a darker place instead of feeling cathartic

#to come back to

[blueduplicity]

a weak heart | rafayel x reader

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!” How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, fluff, light angst, rafayel being bratty but also down incredibly bad

word count: 1.4k

There’s a dip in the bed that alerts Rafayel to her presence. He’d already known she was inside, even though her footsteps were hushed. He’d heard her walk in and feed Reddie, and he almost gave up the vow he made to himself not to engage with her just so he could snark about how she was more invested in seeing the fish than in seeing him.

(Of course, she very well may have gone to the studio to look for him and decided to feed Reddie while she was already in there, but. He doesn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wants to be upset with her. And she gives him so little to get upset with because she is and always has been some kind of angel descended from the heavens with an embarrassingly weak heart, so he needs to take whatever chances he can get.)

A soft touch to the back of his neck is followed by a quick kiss to his cheek. “Rafayel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake, Raf.” Well, his eyes are open so. Great observation, idiot. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?”

The window he’s staring through is so fascinating all of a sudden, all bright and stale with an afternoon light he’s painted a billion times. Literally a billion. That’s how old he is. One would think he’d learned to be patient in that time, but one would also think that after waiting for a woman for centuries, she could cut him some slack and not make him wait any longer.

(Not that she knows that but. Still.)

“It was really last minute.” She kisses his cheek again, hovering over him and he wants so badly to gaze up at her, because that will be something he’s never painted before—he’d title it Requiem For A Bland Thursday and Thomas would sell it for a couple hundred million and he’d tell her that and she would only ask him to buy her a rainbow popsicle because there isn’t a greedy bone in her body.

“I was going to text, Raf, I promise I was, but I’d pulled a night shift already and my phone was dead and Xavier and I both left our chargers at home, and we didn’t have a chance to stop and charge anyways.”

Always an excuse. Always a valid excuse that he can find no fault with. But it isn’t fair. The people she works with—Tara, Xavier, Captain Jenna who she’s definitely a little in love with—get her attention and her time every hour of every day. If there’s a mission to do, she’ll drop everything and do it. And Rafayel gets the crumbs, the vacation days and the after hours, whenever she remembers him enough to spare her time.

What’s worse than that is the fear. He doesn’t let it show through text, always opting to send whatever he thinks will make her smile, but everytime hours pass without a response from her, fear seizes his poor heart. All the twisted and cruel things that could possibly happen to her start playing on repeat in his head.

“Rafayel,” she pleads, tilting her forehead against his temple. “Please, look at me?”

His chest burns hot.

When he finally looks up, he finds he’s absolutely correct in his hunch. She presents like a masterpiece, hair mussed from whatever fights Xavier clearly couldn’t protect her from. Her eyes shine tiredly, lighting up when they gaze into his. And Rafayel’s heart releases a painful thump, thump, thump because if he could spend eternity with her looking at him the way she is now, he’d easily live the rest of his immortal life the happiest person in the universe.

She leans down and pecks his lips apologetically. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

(It’s what she always does.)

“It’s what you always do,” he says, not harsh but definitely blasé enough to make her wince. “Why should this time be any different?”

A sigh escapes her, and he starts to feel that old guilt again. To hold her up to a standard because he fell in love with two other versions of her, and to give her grief for being late as though she wasn’t doing an incredibly important job keeping people safe—it’s not exactly fair. To either of them, but specifically to her.

And yet, it’s not like he spends his time with her imagining a princess running through the sands calling his name. This version of her makes his heart pound all the same, whether she’s absolutely beating his ass at the card game in the cafe, or resting her head on his shoulder from behind while he paints, or when she’s in his bed just like this.

The biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart.

“What do I need to do for you to forgive me?” She tilts his chin up with her index finger, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Rafayel could never imagine being spoiled like this even if he was to be sitting on the throne in Lemuria right now, with jewels and gold surrounding him and beautiful maidens offering their hands. 

Somehow, this is more. Somehow, this is better.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answers flatly, “and there’s nothing I can do. So let me be mad at you in peace.”

Her response is to brush the bangs from his forehead and drop a kiss to his forehead as well. “You make me feel like I’m in high school all over again,” she teases quietly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips now. “My teenage dream.”

He groans. “Don’t—“

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!”

How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. 

Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

“Is this my punishment?” His nose wrinkles. “To hear you sing terrible renditions of already overplayed songs?”

Her giggle is the real music to his ears. “You’re an artist, you should know talent when you hear it.”

“I do,” he insists, realizing too late that he’s giving in. The lightness in his stomach is a bit frightening too. This is the same woman who carved out his heart. This is the same woman who needed to do nothing but flutter her lashes at him to make him give in to her any request. If, tomorrow, she were to ask him to rip his own scales from his body and place the bloody pieces in her palm, he’d do so without question.

Her hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he leans into it with a soft sigh almost on instinct. Such power she possesses, over the God of the Sea, and she’s the only person who would never even fathom abusing it. 

“You’re cold,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek. “Why do you always keep your house so cold?”

(So that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can—)

“It’s better for blood circulation.”

Her thumb gently brushes over his lower lip, like she’s mapping out her quest to treasure. “That’s like, objectively not true, Raf. My friend’s a doctor, he told me that cold is better for short-term pain and warmth is better for—“

“If you’re cold,” he interrupts, “get under the sheets.”

A brilliant, blinding smile lights up her face as she does just that, slipping under next to him and laying down at a slightly elevated level so she can tuck his head into her chest. Warmth runs through him like a flood, even the leather of her uniform is comforting because it’s smooth and light and smells just like her. Her lips press to the top of his head.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, “I’ll do my best to text you and let you know next time, okay?”

And if she doesn’t, Rafayel thinks, curling into her more, they will still end up like this, quiet words and mutual teasing, memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with, a heart that dances to the tune of her commands, wrapped up in each other, and absolutely nothing will change.

Because who really has a weak heart?

(It’s not her.)

#i am an angst baby pls dont hurt me #“the biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart” OWWW? #“Somehow this is more. Somehow this is better” im gonna be SICK #THE PINING IS CAUSING ME PHYSICAL PAIN #“her giggle is the real music to his ears” you cant do this to meeeee #im going insaneee oh my god the way you write his perspective #“so that she can warm him upx100” oh be still my heart i love repetition to convey spiraling thought #“memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with” UGHGHGHGHHH WHAT A GOOD LINEEE #IM REALIZING THESE TAGS ARE JUST ME FREAKING OUT OVER THE WRITING LOL JKSDBVFSJKVF #AND ENDING WITH “ITS NOT HER” ARE YOU KIDIDNG MEEEEE #ty for the meal...i need to emotionally recover...

[blueduplicity]

cw: afab reader + she/her pronouns, creepy stuff, yandere ig??, very very very brief and extremely mild use of phone as a vibrator, if you've seen gravity falls this is inspired by the soos and the real girl ep 💀

You pause and exit out of the app right as you open up the video call link, ignoring the twinge of guilt you feel at leaving during such a steamy scene. It's not real, you remind yourself, like you have a million times in the past month. A part of you wants to find the coziest corner of this library and play until you've leveled up all the memories you can and gone on all nine claw machine dates you're allowed to, but it's time to unplug.

Besides, you have an actual date.

"Hey!" your boyfriend greets as soon as the video loads up, grinning when he sees your face. "Are you in the library?"

"Yeah. Booked a room all for you," you tease, setting your phone down to focus on your laptop.

"Wow, I'm flattered. So what's been up lately?"

You sigh. "Nothing much. Same old boring stuff. What about you?"

He starts talking about his new job, the entire reason that you and he have been long-distance for the past few months. You're not going to lie to yourself—it's rough. It feels like torture, not being able to see him and hold him and kiss him. You've really, really missed him. That's probably why you've turned to dating sims of all things in the first place.

Your phone buzzes while he's talking, and your eyes flick over to the screen.

new text from alien boy <3

Your brows furrow in confusion. This app doesn't notify you about new texts, because they only come through while you're on the app itself. And you never just get texts, unless you've leveled up on affinity, which you haven't in the past half hour.

Whatever. Probably some new feature or event you don't know about yet. You turn your attention back to your boyfriend.

"—And my break will be in two weeks," he finishes his story, then smiles. "Which means in two weeks I'll be seeing you, pretty girl."

Eyes lighting up, you lean in so you can blow him a light kiss. "I can't wait. I already have the whole weekend planned out. We'll go to the park, the museum—I thought we could go canoeing if you wanted to—"

Once again, your phone buzzes.

alien boy <3: didn't we have plans that weekend?

Your stomach flips unpleasantly.

Huh?

"What is it?" your boyfriend asks, noticing your struck expression.

"N-nothing, just—this app I downloaded, it gave me a super weird notification. For a second, I thought it was, like, listening to me."

He chuckles. "Creepy. What app is it?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, not sure if you should even tell your boyfriend that you've found solace in fictional characters during his absence. "Just some stupid game."

This time when your phone buzzes, you jump a little in your seat.

It's not a text. Someone's calling you. Your shoulders almost sag until you notice there's no name on the caller id, just a small spaceship emoji.

"What the hell," you mutter under your breath, putting one finger up to the camera. Your boyfriend nods in understanding, leaning back and muting himself while you swipe and answer the call. "Hello?"

No answer.

"Hello-o-o?"

Still nothing. You almost hang up, until the barest of sounds makes your ears perk up. If you strain them and press the phone so close it's smushing your cheek, you can hear something. It sounds like someone whispering, but you can't make out anything.

"Hello? Um, your audio is super low, I can barely hear you. Hello? Can you hear me?"

With no change, you hang up, frustrated. It might be a prank call. You're in the library on a Friday night and there's barely anyone here, one of your friends might've thought it was hilarious to mess with you.

"Spam call." You shrug uneasily, slipping the phone down between your thighs this time instead of on the table. He nods in understanding, then starts saying something.

"You're still on mute, sweetheart, I can't hear you."

He makes an oh face, then leans forward a bit to use the mouse. After a few seconds, though, his eyes narrow in focus and he shakes his head. He looks up, mouthing can you hear me now?

"Nope. Can you still hear me?"

An affirmative nod. Weird. It's still showing that he's muted on your end. "What, is it not clicking?"

You see him look back up to the screen, whether to nod or shake his head, you don't find out, because the screen glitches out for a moment, and all you see is a door.

You shriek, clamping a hand over your mouth.

His face is back in front of you again, and you still can't hear him, but he clearly sees how freaked out you are, because he tilts his head up concernedly, as though to ask you what's wrong.

You didn't scream because of the glitch.

You screamed because you've visited your boyfriend at his new place before, and that door was his door.

"Can you hear me? Is your door locked?" He only looks more confused, shaking his head like you're the one who's muted now.

Your phone lights up before you can grab it and call him, and you gasp when it buzzes against your core and doesn't stop buzzing. It doesn't vibrate this much when you get a call, and there is no call on the home screen, nor text, nor any kind of notification. It feels like it presses itself into your skin more, and you grip the table with one hand at the brief jolt of pleasure before snatching it and unlocking the screen.

Before you can click the phone app, Love&Deepspace opens. You groan in frustration, trying to swipe up to no avail. Did you accidentally click on it? It wasn't even in the list of apps on your main page.

Movement from your laptop catches your eye. Your boyfriend's looking forward, but not at the camera. He's looking at—at something, and he backs up in his chair, looking terrified all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you say as loud as you can, but even if he does hear you, he doesn't respond, and instead, his mouth falls open in a silent scream.

The screen goes black, and then so does the entire library.

"Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." You look back down at your phone, ready to crack it if it doesn't swipe up and get out of this stupid app—

There's no one there.

Your heart stutters in its chest.

There's always someone in the Destiny Cafe.

There's no one there.

And on the little white armchair in the background, there's a dark streak of red dripping down and staining the cloth.

"What the fuck," you whisper, eyes wide. Your laptop screen flickers.

The facetime has been replaced by grey-blonde hair, that gently brushes against baby blue eyes with a soft, unassuming smile.

"You shouldn't pause me," he coos, "now, where were we?"

a/n: i hope no one tells me that people don't put their phones between their thighs while sitting bc i very much do. also. i'm talking to a guy on FT in the library tomorrow. hope i don't have gift of foresight. or maybe i hope i do muwahahaha. this is actually mad goofy and not scary at all

#-in italics- oh.... #my little horror loving heart #omg the TENSION #and the SUSPENSE #i had no idea which direction it was gonna go #best thing is i can believe that this is canon with my whole chest #he is SCARY LOL #im just geeking out so hard actually i love when horror is incorporated into yandere romance and it's not JUST the obsession and love #i yearn for the fear factor... #ty for sharing im loving ur little fics!

[blueduplicity]

I’m in LOVE with the white of a red rose. Is there gonna be another part? Sorry if you’ve gotten this question before

ur so sweet! i probably won't write another PART to that fic but I am kind of obsessed with the premise and their relationship so i don't wanna take it off the table completely

#i miss tsukki dreadfully actually #not in my haikyuu phase atm #(this is a good thing the unmedicated hyperfixation is horrible for my health LOL) #but im always looking back at my wips wondering what i should work on next #i miss the guys :tm:

[blueduplicity]

inspired by rafayel's when light falls memory.

cw: fluff, bratty raf, temporary blindness

When he stumbles into the room, you're on your feet immediately, staring furiously.

"Rafayel."

"Hey, no, you can't be mad." He points in the direction of your voice, and he's slightly off, which only makes you angrier. "If you think about it, this is your fault."

"Rafayel!"

"You sound so pretty when you say my name like that. Say it again?"

It had been on the tip of your tongue, but at his words you swallow the third utterance, merely glaring with a look that would make him shudder if he could see it.

If he didn't, y'know, blind himself again.

"Hmm, does the opposite effect work on you? Let's see. Don't kiss me. Don't get me food because I'm not hungry. Don't take me to bed and lay me down and push my shirt up and ogle me, I'd hate that."

"You're not funny," you snap at him, walking up and snatching his palm. Despite your obvious anger, Rafayel lets out a soft breath of relief at your touch, and doesn't protest a bit as you guide him to sit on the couch. When he'd told you he'd meet you here, you didn't suspect anything. When he said Thomas would be dropping him off, a bead of nervousness had build up inside you. And when Thomas texted you a simple apology text, you'd feared the worst.

He always does this. This is the third time it's happened since you've known him. Each time he cheerily tells you that the doctor has warned him it could be permanent if he keeps being so reckless. And each time, Rafayel ignores that advice completely and stays up another forty-eight hours to paint.

When he's seated, he sighs happily, tugging you close and tucking himself into your chest. "You smell good."

"Shut up. Do you even register how dangerous this is?"

"Mmhm." You see his lips curve into a smile. "Maybe this'll be the time it sticks."

Placing your fingers against his forehead, you push him back and he whines, slouching with a pout on his face. You don't dignify his hypothetical with an answer, stomping away—loud enough that he can hear your displeasure—to take a wrapped sandwich from the picnic basket you'd brought over.

Rafayel's brows furrow when you drop it in his hands, and he has to fiddle a bit before he can take the foil off. Cautiously, he takes a bite, knowing better than to ask you before eating if you're trying to poison him or not (your answer will always be a deadpan yes), and moans a little when the flavor hits.

"This is so good. Did you make this?"

You sit down a foot away from him, crossing one leg over the other and staring stoically at the wall in front of you. "I did. For a date."

Out of the corner of your eye, you see his eyes widen, as though he's finally realizing how much trouble he's in. Abandoning the sandwich on the couch, he extends his hand out for you, finding your face first before he wraps his hand around your arm.

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. You put all this effort in and I—"

"Completely ruined our plans by showing up without your eyesight? Yes. You did."

"I'm sorry," he says again, pulling at you a little. You acquiesce, if only because the sight of him reaching for you makes you feel slightly bad. He pulls you into his chest this time, hiding his face in your hair as he murmur out apologies.

That's the thing with Rafayel. He can tease and poke and prod all he wants, but the second he actually feels something, he makes it blatantly clear. The guilt is practically dripping off him in waves.

"I'm not mad." You hold both his hands in yours, kissing his knuckles like they're precious—because to you, they are. "At least, not about the date. I am mad that you keep doing this to yourself even though it's bad for you."

His hands squeeze yours, and his blank eyes fill with an emotion you're not even sure he realizes he's expressing. "I told you, s'your fault. I was up three nights in a row working on something you inspired."

"Right." Shifting so that you can kiss the top of his head, you mumble, "So what I'm hearing is I should break up with you and then you'll be absolutely fine."

For a few seconds, Rafayel doesn't say anything, and you become concerned he thinks you're serious. But then he presses into you more, lips grazing against your collarbone.

"That'd be even worse."

"Oh, really?" You run a hand through his hair. "How so?"

"Heartbreak is amazing for creativity. I wouldn't sleep for weeks. Even after my eyesight was gone, I'd just keep paining...and painting...and painting..."

"Okay, okay, I get it." Kicking your feet out, you lay down, pulling him down on top of you. Rafayel sighs, one arm sliding around you as he tucks his face into your neck.

"You really do smell good."

"Please stop doing this to yourself. I'm genuinely asking you, Raf, I'm begging you to just let the inspiration stew—call me if you can't settle and I'll help. But stop it with these all nighters."

His fingers find yours, and he holds your hand against his chest tightly. "Okay," he whispers, "okay."

You don't push it further. If he's agreed, then he'll stick to his word, you know that. You'd feel guilty, at how much he bends to your every request despite the complaints, but it's not like you're trying to get him to buy you a diamond ring (and Rafayel would, should you so much as glance at one). You're making him promise for his own benefit.

"Even if I did lose my eyesight, I'd still remember how you look, y'know." He brushes his lips against a nearly faded hickey on your neck, pressing a soft kiss there. It's incredibly impressive that even without seeing, he knows exactly where his marks on you are. "Wouldn't stop calling you beautiful—promise."

A gentle hum escapes you. "I know. Believe it or not, my ego isn't what I'm worried about."

He laughs quietly, reaching down to kiss your chest before pressing closer to you, listening to your heartbeat with his eyes closed. "Yeah, you're worried about me. That's so embarrassing, you have a crush on me?"

"I'm in love with you," you respond, and predictably, his ears turn scarlet at your open words and he groans, fingers clutching your shirt as he wallows. "Don't dish out what you can't take, honey."

"You're so mean," Rafayel whispers, "stay with me?"

What a pain in the ass. But he's your pain in the ass, and you wouldn't have it any other way. "M'not going anywhere."

#im teehee giggling over here omg #full on kicking my feet and cheesing like a FOOL #“heartbreak is AMAZING for creativity” i DONKEY LAUGHED okay bc i could hear that in his voice so clearly LOL #this is so cuuute the dialogue was perfect their banter was delightful #and the emotional shift between teasing to serious and soft uUGHHHGH i love them sm #love the mc too LOL i adore when writers give them a bit of attitude #l&ds mc is spunky as hell and i love when that translates into fic as well

[blueduplicity]

every week there is some kind of laundry. sick of it

#theres laundry to do and a genocide to stop

[blueduplicity]

this has probably already been done before but i was thinking about it earlier and got curious

#google docs mainly #but i recently started trying out motif? #its a LITTLE complicated for me so im not using all the functions atm #but so far i like it #also i sent an email asking about their users writing being used to train ai and they were like #lol no we arent doing that #which was sick LOL

[blueduplicity]

A thread of Palestinian businesses to support!

Link to Sunbula

Link to Soap

Link to Hanmade Palestine

Link to Palbox

Link to Shop

Link to Paliroots

Link to Taita Leila LTD

Link to West Bank Apparel

Link to Kufiya

Link to Nōl Collective

Link to MEERA ADNAN

Link to Fyrouzi

Link to Tatreez on Tea

Link to Hilweh Market

Link to Darzah

#for later

[blueduplicity]

passages that make you whisper "oh my god"

[blueduplicity]

i’ve been waiting to use that first line for forever

#IF YOURE LUCKY YOULL BECOME A MOON EATER TOO #i dont know the context for this but im absolutely foaming at the mouth #what a gorgeous chunk of prose im so in my feelings for no reason???

[blueduplicity]

[blueduplicity]

“You simply cannot fit more America into a single incident than a man dying a horrifying death in protest of war crimes while a first responder screams at cops to stop pointing their guns at him and go get fire extinguishers. If you were to pick a single moment in history to sum up the essence and expression of the US empire, that would be it.”

Caitlin Johnstone, The Most American Thing That Has Ever Happened

[blueduplicity]

the grand king of aoba johsai.