#i guess its good to know what words to avoid people who use

[catgirl-or-furry]

I was having trouble with nightmares a bit ago, which stopped when I started listening to horror stories before bed. And as I listen to my horror tale each night, I enjoy the irony.

#i can explain this normLly #but irony and mystic is more fun #it removes the real fears from my mind and fills my head with fiction as I fall asleep #and no monster is as scary to me as my real life #it also lets me relax better #which leads to falling into a deeper sleep #where im less likely to dream at all #but i just kinda enjoy how it all worked out #and the fact it couldve been many things but I chose horror #im especially fond of old stories for this #like lovecraft #the lack of scientific understanding stops it from feeling truly scary #and the racist inputs make me laugh at their stupidity as if theyre comic relief #because the idea of racism is so foolish that in my modern life and culture we point and laugh at racists #i also learn new slurs this way #which is... something #i guess its good to know what words to avoid people who use #cant exactly put them in my vocab study list tho lol #i also like old horror because it often couldnt happen today #so if i dream of the story my modern base idea for the world will give me escape routes all over

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Angel's Blood

Aziraphale x GN!Vampire!Reader + a hint of Crowley

18+ ONLY / Requests are OPEN

Read part two- Demon's Blood

Summary: It's entirely an accident when you discover Angel's blood is an aphrodisiac.

CW: vampire!reader, blood, i guess blood kink if you squint, choking, thigh riding

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Being a Vampire had its draws, that was for absolutely sure. Strength, heightened senses (although this could be a hit and miss, depending on which sense you were talking about), speed, and your personal favourite- elongated life. Being able to watch the world grow and thrive around you, it was something truly special. 

It was also a curse too, but that was less fun to think about, so you generally tended to avoid thoughts about it as much as you could. Now, you weren’t necessarily a ‘vegetarian’ Vampire, per se. But you did your best to only bleed people dry who ‘deserved’ it. Real bottom of the barrell stuff. It was… not particularly tasty.

And what with the lockdowns, and the lack of evil and wrongdoing in the air, you’d found it becoming exceptionally difficult to find yourself more meals. The 1940s had basically been an all-you-can-eat buffet. Oh, sure, that wasn’t a good thing, but you’d not been sated quite the same way ever since. Never enough walking popsicles about these days. 

Oh, now there was an idea. Frozen blood pops. You thought you might give those a try when you got your next few blood bags. But those were still a while away, and you were hungry now. 

Usually it was not a huge deal to wait a while between meals, but given how uptight and wound Humanity was getting, and how much harder it was getting to, well, get away with things, you were spacing things out more than you should have been already, and as you pushed your way through the Bookshop doors, you knew Aziraphale knew what was going on immediately. 

You’d met the Angel and Demon pair several centuries ago during a particularly popular theatre act, and you had hit it off immediately. They’d both known exactly what you were, and did not beat around the bush about it. The fact that they’d not feared you in the slightest helped with that too. You didn’t have to keep your guard up around them, and once you’d told Aziraphale about who, what, when and where you fed on- he was much more inclined to become friendly with you. 

“Az- Zira-” you panted, the bell on the door clanging wildly and loudly as you practically fell through the door frame. “Do I- have any- blood here?” Each couple of words took effort to say, and were punctuated with a heaving breath in. You usually kept a small stash at your usual haunts just in case, but you had a sneaking suspicion based on the look on Aziraphale’s face, that no, you did not have any spare snacks sitting around. 

“Oh, dear- erm, no, I don’t believe so, darling-” the Angel said concernedly. You braced yourself against the door and smacked your dry lips.

Well fuck. 

“Shit,” was all you replied, arm wobbling before your body gave out on you. Before you hit the ground you felt arms around you, pulling you up and against Aziraphale’s body. You could smell his soap on his skin, a mix of white sage and oregano and you clung to him desperately so you wouldn’t fall. 

Aziraphale led you over to his arm chair, settling himself down with you in his lap. He brushed the hair out of your forehead and you shivered, your nerves becoming more panicked by the minute.

“You know you shouldn’t leave it this long between… meals,” he practically tutted as if unsure what the correct word to use was, and you let out a shaky chuckle, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. You weren’t sure if it was the desperate hunger or what, but Aziraphale smelt so fucking good.

“Yeah, yeah,” you replied, nosing at his skin softly. Your arm pulled closer around his torso. “It’s getting- harder. Not so much- supply,” you sighed, the panting easing now you weren’t exerting so much energy with movement. 

It wasn’t as if you’d die if you didn’t feed. It was just that without the blood, there’d be no flow in your system, and with no blood flow your body would just… stop working. Dry up and go stiff like an old doll. You’d be stuck in a coma until more blood was transfused into you. 

How did you know this? Well, let’s just say you did not particularly want to repeat the end of the 14th century. You shuddered at the memory and Aziraphale rubbed your shoulder, cooing at you softly in an effort to comfort you.

“Can I do anything for you?” Aziraphale asked softly, kissing the top of your forehead. You nosed at his neck another moment in throught before it came to you. Aziraphale had a body. One that pumped blood.

“I- I have an idea,” you said quietly, pulling away from his throat to look up at him. Aziraphale’s gaze was soft as he nodded, asking what he could do to help you. That was Aziraphale for you, always ready to give for the next person in need.

“I need to feed,” you say slowly and evenly, measuring the Angel’s reactions. “And I’m too weak to find someone who… I can feed off.” You wait to see if he gets what you’re hinting at, and when his eyes widen in shock, you can’t help but be amused at the comical expression. 

“Oh- oh, my,” he splutters as his brain processes the request. And it is a request. You’d never take advantage or take anything from him without his permission. It wasn’t who you were. Not at all. “Oh, well, I suppose,” he adds, clearing his throat. You didn’t even know if it was safe to drink Angel blood. But you supposed you were about to find out.

“Not too much,” he adds, readjusting to make it easier for you to gain access to his neck. “Takes a while to replenish, you see.” You can hear the blood pumping just a little faster- smell the spike of sage that permeates the air over his skin. You shudder out a breath, looking at him one more time. One more chance to back out of this. 

When he tilts his head just a little further in submission, you stop hesitating, fangs appearing in a flash of a second only to disappear again- sinking into Aziraphale’s flesh. The feel of his skin under your lips is to die for. The Angel gasps, the hint of a yelp lost in the haze of blood finally, finally hitting your tongue. 

You let out a groan of pure satisfaction, sucking a little harder. That sweet liquid tasting of peonies, iron and ink. Everyone tasted a little different. God, did he taste good though. You let out a possessive growl and twisted in Aziraphale’s arms so you were sitting on his lap, straddling one thigh and pulling him by the hair to gain as much access as possible. 

“God, fuck, Zira-” you panted, pulling away to lick your lips clean. Your eyes were blown wide watching a drop of blood swell and trail down towards his collar. You surged forward to lick it clean and let out a whimper. “Fuck, fuck- you taste good.” 

The Angel let out a breathy chuckle, and you managed to tear your gaze away from his willing throat to look into his face. His own eyes were darker than usual, and a pink tint was colouring his cheeks. You leaned in to sniff under the bone of his jaw and grinned a sharks grin. Oh, he was enjoying this.

“Do you like it too, Zira? Like it when I feed on you? Shit, I can feel your blood inside me- Angels Blood. Fuck.” You’d barely realised that you’d started grinding softly on his clothed thigh, jolts of pleasure travelling up your nerves like electric shocks. Nothing had ever tasted or felt this good- not in your couple thousand years of life. 

But why, why was it so good? Was it because his blood was undiluted? Pure blood straight from the Heavens- literally? That had to be it. God, it was almost… euphoric. Fuck it, it was euphoric.

When Aziraphale moved to wrap his warm hands around your hips and have you grind down harder and faster, you moaned, head tilted back in pleasure. The Angel tilted his head to the side and let out a quiet plea. “Take more, p-please,” he whispered. 

And who were you to deny him his hearts desires? 

Your fangs sank back into his skin, and his hips jerked up slightly in your direction. You moaned, sending little vibrations through his neck and shoulder and one hand reached down to palm at him through his slacks. 

“O-oh,” he gasped out, fingers tightening on your hips as you began to move in tighter circles, grinding yourself down on him and panting with the pleasure shooting up your spine. Your muscles were already beginning to ache but you persevered, the pleasure far outweighing the burn. 

Aziraphale whimpered quietly, biting his lip and adjusting his knee to have you seated more comfortably. The movement of his thigh pulled a deep groan from you, and your fingers pressed into his bulge with a little more devilish intent. 

Fuck, you were not going to last long and you knew it, it was almost like you’d been strung on a high wire and the ampage turned up to eleven. Fuck, the only thing that could make this better was if-

“Fucking Hell,” you hear behind you. The shock and the adrenaline that came with being caught sent your hips forward harshly, a noise of pleasure escaping whether you wanted it to or not. The pair of you hadn’t even locked the door. “Angel, I didn’t take you for this kind of behaviour. Seems more like my kind of thing.” 

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers clench tighter on your hips, dragging you forward and back over his thigh. You can barely focus on the conversation over the pleasure.

“It’s- ah- not what it looks like, Crowley-” Aziraphale manages to say. You’re pretty sure you know exactly what this looks like, and you’re not sure how Aziraphale intends to explain this to his Demon friend. Lover. The three of you were a lot of things to each other. It was bound to happen when you spend so many human lifetimes around each other.

“Isn’t it?” Crowley asks, taking a seat down on the chair facing opposite to Zira. You suck a little harder, more of your Angel’s blood laving over your tongue. Your hand massages against him and one of his arms comes up so his hand can caress your spine. 

“Because, and, right- correct me if I’m wrong- but it looks as though you’re letting our dear old friend here fuck your thigh and drink you practically dry,” his gaze must catch on the way you’re rubbing your hand over Aziraphale’s very prominent and thick erection. “Mm, well, and there’s that. Not overly Holy, I would have thought. But don’t stop on my account.” 

You feel Aziraphale’s fingers lift from your spine and suddenly Crowley isn’t on the chair anymore. He’s pressed up against your back and reaching to pull softly on your hair. You pant as your mouth is pulled away from Aziraphale’s neck, and the Angel in question whines in protest. 

Crowley pulls you into a kiss, licking the blood from your lips and giving you a truly devilish grin. He lets go only to wrap a hand around your throat and squeeze. 

“Naw, what’s wrong, Pet? Hmm? You want to cum?” The Demon squeezes tight enough to cut off your air and you hump against Aziraphale’s thigh desperately. Crowley has the audacity to laugh, standing above you and holding you steady. 

“Go on, then,” he snarls, pressing tighter still. You whine and rock your hips harder, your hand grinding against Aziraphale at the same time, who is turning his head to press kisses to Crowley’s wrist reverently. “Come for us, Pet. Hungry thing.” 

You cry out as Aziraphale bumps his leg up against you, the final touch to make you fall over that edge. You cum hard, jerking in Crowley’s grip as he loosens his fingers just enough to allow you to breathe in again. He laughs, giving you a light pat on the cheek. Hard enough to feel but not to hurt. 

As soon as he releases your throat, you’re burying yourself in Aziraphale’s neck, seeking warmth and comfort, hips rolling over his thigh to ride out your pleasure. Your hand has reached into his slacks by now, tugging at him erratically and quickly. The Angels head tilts back in pleasure, where you’re sure Crowley is giving him a downright filthy look. 

As soon as your lips press a featherlight kiss to the marks you’ve left on him, he cums. Ribbons of white coating your fingers inside his slacks. You let out a moan of a laugh, tired and sated, as he pants underneath you. 

He’s got his eyes clenched shut with the pleasure, but as soon as he starts to come down, Crowley leans over to kiss him hungrily. The Angel reciprocates, reaching up to cup his jaw. 

You’re still snuggled up on Zira’s lap, the post-nut haze settling thickly and heavily into your skin. You let out a yawn, and lick your lips clean, the last of the Angel’s blood entering your system. 

“So,” you say tiredly as Crowley leans against the other arm of the chair next to the pair of you. “I’ve learned some things today.” Your fingers dance over Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Who would have thought Angel’s blood would be such a powerful aphrodesiac, huh?” 

Crowley hums in thought before giving you a wicked grin, a hint of a flash of yellow behind his sunglasses.

“Makes you wonder what Demon’s blood can do, eh?” 

Hmm, makes you wonder indeed…

#fanfiction #good omens #gomens #crowley #crowley x reader #crowley good omens #one shot #aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley x reader #smut #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic #michael sheen #lemon #vampire!reader #vampire reader #gender neutral reader #david tennant

[ghastlytofu]

Can't stop thinking about how Wyll and Astarion's physiology was forcibly and irrevocably altered by their abusers into something nominally monstrous, how they both ask the player to be their mirror when they're unable or unwilling to look at themselves. How they desperately want to be what you see in them. Walk with me.

"They say that anyone who bathes in the River of Blood emerges as one born anew. [Being a devil] is a lot like that, I imagine. I feel the weight of these horns on my head, curling upwards like a mammoth's tusks. I feel these ridges snaking down my neck, not to mention a few bumps and prongs in unmentionable places. But I haven't seen my reflection just yet."

"Be my mirror. What do you see?"

"I've never even seen this face. Not since it grew fangs and my eyes turned red. I don't know [what color they were before]. I can't remember. My face is just some dark shape in my past. Another thing I've lost."

"And what do you see, exactly?"

How they want their bodies to feel like their own again. As far as monstrous magical transformations go, Wyll deals with the fallout of his over the course of the game; Astarion dealt with his in the past (undead) and fears it happening again (illithid).

[Wyll burns in the fires of Avernus. The lightning storms of Dis strike his flesh. His soul passes through each layer of the Hells - gaining their essence, and their torment.]

"Just look at me! I did what was right and Mizora made me pay for it."

"In truth, I don't feel in a festive mood, and I didn't want to cast a grey cloud over the night. I'm a devil. I love the people from the grove but I unsettle them deep down, as I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays. You don't want a devil at your party. Claws will pop the balloons, you see. And the sweetcakes don't taste half as good as raw eggs with this blasted forked tongue."

"I'll have to take your word for it [the horns have character]. I've been avoiding my own reflection."

"A man looks in, a devil looks out. I might never get used to it."

"And to think how much time I've spent wishing I could rip them off. (...) Shit. I'm being insensitive. Sorry. They just take some getting used to."

"Hm. I'm still me, I guess. Sort of."

And we have Astarion, who's been there. Who knows.

"I remember how it hurt, when I turned into a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless. The grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over."

"Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for very long."

#i'm not well 🙃 #they've got me in a chokehold. i mean an EMBRACE #and by that i mean their parallels make me feral #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 spoilers #long post #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin #wyllstarion #bloodpact

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (With Benefits) PT3

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count: 3.9k +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: language, smut, mentions of weed, (implied) RichKid!Reader, jealous!Chris, pet names (cherry), choking, humiliation, heavy degradation, sub!Chris, dom!Reader, I think that’s all.

(A/N: I got this idea from this request. Tysm for the idea & inspiration. Hope this is good.)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

I haven’t talked to Chris ever since that party.

wich wouldn’t be too shocking, since we hate each other. but I’ve been ignoring him fully. I wasn’t even responding to his mocking or arguing with him.. just…

The entire situation of us, two people who hate each other so much, and have for so long, hooking up, is extremely toxic.

And I’m self aware, I know that.

It just never bothered me before... But he was treating me like shit. And I’m done with it.

It’s been a week now, and I don’t think he cares that much honestly. At first he went on like normal making witty remarks trying to start arguments and disagreements, but since I didn’t respond he started to do it less and less.

It feels so refreshing not to have a headache everyday.

Only con is, that we share most classes. So i have to see his face all the time. Tho I just ignore him.

At first I saw him walking a round with charlotte, and honestly I don’t know why she is still talking to him after almost hooking up.

I don’t know what he was trying to achieve with that. But if the point was to make me jealous he is so bad at it.

I’ve been talking to Ethan a lot though.

And like I thought, he’s a nice guy, and he always shares his weed.

Even though I have enough friends, most of them are ‘lunchbox friends’. Well except for Matt and Nick, but I can’t really talk to them often considering I’m trying to avoid their brother.

I feel like most of my friends are fake. Wich they are.

We’ll talk and have fun in school, but if I walk past them at the mall they will act like they’ve never seen me in their entire life.

Ethan though. Ethan is nice. His skater friends not so much. Well I guess they’re just critical. After all I’m not any type of alternative at all, and I frankly, don’t know how to skate.

But at least they respect me. Probably because I’m wealthy but ih well.

Ethan and I haven’t done anything.

Other than kiss.

I walk out of history class, a class I share with Ethan. We walk down the hallway side to side.

When we get to my locker- wich is only two away from Chris’ -I unlock it to put my books in it.

All this time Ethan had been complaining about how his next class would be math and whatnot. I had noticed that Ethan was skipping less and less classes now. I never realized how many classes we shared because he was always skipping. But now he wasn’t. And the lack of tobacco in his system was making him itchy and I could tell.

Once you got to know him he actually got quite talkative.

I look over my shoulder to look at Ethan but see Chris in the corner of my eye.

Chris…

Chris.

Without thinking I grab the collar of Ethan’s sweatshirt roughly crashing my lips onto his.

Ethan, having not expected it, doesn’t do anything for a moment, before he kisses back.

Pushing me against the lockers behind me roughly. His tongue finds its way into my mouth as we start to make out.

In the middle of the hall.

My arms wrap around his neck holding him close.

He was kissing me like i was the only source of oxygen. And it felt good. I could tell he liked kissing me, and he wasn’t bad at it.

“Gonna suck face in the hallways now too?”

I pull away slightly. My breath was coming out in short and harsh pants.

I ignore the voice. Chris’ voice.

…Chris

Instead I stare back into Ethan’s eyes. I try to focus on the way his hands feel on my waist as he holds me against the lockers.

His grip isn’t too tight, but it was firm. His forehead pressed against mine as I stare back into his dark eyes.

“Disgusting.”

I look over at him at the disgusted tone. I scoff. My eyes lock onto Chris’ and it feels like electricity shoots up my spine.

Ethan looks a lot like Chris, but he doesn’t have the blue eyes.

The blue eyes that I-

I pause all the thoughts leaving my brain as I hear Chris let out an irritated huff.

And suddenly the feeling of Ethan’s hands on my clothed skin feels too hot. Even tho he unironically resembles Chris a lot, he isn’t Chris.

And god when did my standard become: Chris.

I tare my eyes away from Chris’ gaze. My eyes locking back onto Ethan’s dark eyes.

While Chris’ seem cold and icy, Ethan’s are warm and welcoming. But I don’t want to be welcome and the warmth seems too hot.

It feels like going out in a hoodie on the hottest summer day.

-suffocating

“Fuck off Chris. You’re not any better”

I say to Chris, while staring back at Ethan. But before I can hear Chris reply the bell rings.

I let out a breath. Out of the corner of my eyes I see Chris slam his locker harshly and leave. And once he does I leave a peck on Ethan’s lips.

I slide out of his grip chuckling.

“Imma go now pretty boy, I’ll see you later” I smile at Ethan.

I quickly take out my stuff for my English class and speed walk past him.

★ ★

I’m late to my class but I can’t help but not care.

I share this class with none of them.

Not Ethan, not Chris, not charlotte.

Wich was a relief. Because I don’t know what that was. Ethan has never done anything to make me feel uncomfortable.

Chris had.

So why am I comparing them.

Why do I feel like the lack of just simple bickering with Chris is giving me withdrawal? Why does his glare burn through my soul? Why does it feel wrong being near Ethan when Chris was there? And why the tell did it feel like Ethan’s touch burned?

Why did I want Ethan to be Chris?

Well no let me rephrase that.

Why did I want Chris to be nice to me.

He’s always been rude and mean. I knew what I was getting into. And I liked it, and it felt great. So why am I missing the attitude.

Am I that much of an attention whore?

My eyes trail around the room. I take in the whiteboard none of the words written on it register in my head. I look over the students, mostly only seeing the back of their heads, since I sat all the way in the back

I’ve never felt so loved, alone and hated at the same time.

I know Ethen likes me, and it feels like I’m using him for escapism. To distract myself. I’m leading him on..

I feel so alone. Literally the only people I would usually tell, are the brothers of the problem.

And I’ve felt hatred so intense from Chris. And I know he hates me, and I know that’ll never change

★ ★

He days seem to pass so fast, yet so slow. And at this point I don’t know what I’m doing.

I stick to Ethan. Sometimes I’ll make out with him other times I’ll just stay close to him. Especially when Chris is around.

And I can see that he is getting more and more pissed off.

I’ve been wearing more revealing clothes. Atleast as revealing as it can get with the dress code and all. Mocking the fact that Chris can’t do anything about it.

I was hanging out at home. Alone since my siblings were once again at a sleepover. It wasn’t like they were always at one. And I feel like they’re too young to party and I trust them.

I trust that they aren’t lying to me.

Anyway, since they’re only one year apart they share some friends. So they both went to a sleepover birthday party from one of them.

I’m sitting on the couch, for once enjoying the pice and quiet. I have a movie playing, but I’m drowning more in my own thoughts than watching the movie.

I pause when I suddenly hear the doorbell ring.

I think that maybe it could be my siblings? No neither can drive yet.

Maybe it’s a package. Did I order something? But no it’s midnight they wouldn’t still be delivering orders at midnight..

I get up anyway trading over to the door.

I mean if it’s a killer and I go out this way…. Oh well.

My eyes meet Chris’ as soon as I open the door.

I go to slam the door in his face, but he catches it roughly throwing it open.

“Cherry, please” he huffs. He walks in his sharp eyes trained on me. Chris closes the front door behind him.

“Chris get out” I sigh. I purse my lips glaring right back at him.

If he stays i don’t know for how much longer I can control myself. I feel like I’m having withdrawal symptoms. I miss the way he hates me.

“Cherry, listen” he snaps slightly. I raise an eye cockily. I shift on my feet and cross my arms. My glare doesn’t let up.

But Chris is looking at me different. He doesn’t glare, he looks at me with… desperation?

“What?” I snap back harshly.

“Cherry, please? Literally give me anything?”

Oh, so he is as desperate as he looks.

“Give you what?” I play dumb. My arms stay crossed. I keep looking back at him, his pathetic state only serving to piss me off more.

He can’t even drive, how the fuck did he get here. Nobody knows were fucking so he probably didn’t ask Matt. But Ubers are expensive at this time.

“You know what I mean. Cherry, I’ll literally get on my knees right now and beg.” He says that slightly jokingly. He doesn’t actually think he’ll have to go that far, but if he needs to he will.

“So, get on your knees than, Chris” I mock back, thinking that he wouldn’t actually do it.

But before I can blink he’s going down on his knees right in front of me.

I raise my eyebrow staring down at him.

He dramatically puts his hands together making a begging motion. “Please, please, please cherry??”

I look down at him. He looks so cute when his eyes don’t look like they want to bore through me.

He actually looks desperate and needy right now.

I know I said I wouldn’t hook up with him, and I’ve been doing good at ignoring him for almost a whole month. But god he looks so cute, so… god

I thread my fingers through his messy long hair. His wavy brown hair. And I suddenly pull him up. He winces at the harsh treatment, but he lowkey deserves it for being an ass.

I hate how he stands just a little bit taller next to me.

I crash my lips on his and it feels like fire works go off. I’ve kissed Ethan so many times these past few weeks but it never felt this good.

My arms wrap around his neck. My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. Chris’ hands instinctively go to my waist. He holds me flush against him and I feel so comfortable under his touch.

I pull off of the kiss scoffing. My hand wraps around his neck harshly. I pull him down to my eye level while slightly choking him, and he just lets me.

“Hm? Did you not get your dick sucked by someone else?” I mock him, my tone is harsh and condescending.

“Did she not do it as good as I did?”

“Don’t flatter yourself” he grumbles under his breath. He has the audacity to roll his eyes at me.

My grip on his neck tightens and he lets out a sharp breath, one that almost sounds like a moan.

“And yet you still came to my house, got on your knees and begged for me?”

He falls silent at the harsh words. He purses his lip staring back at me with what looks like shame in his eyes.

I move him harshly, changing the place where we stand so I’m close to the door. I harshly squeeze his neck before letting go.

“Go to the living room, I’ll be right there” I nod to the living room behind him. Chris eagerly nods before going to the living room.

I sprint up the stairs and with in a minute I’m back again.

“You’re so fucking pathetic you know that?” I glare at him while towering over his sitting figure.

I go to slowly straddle his lap. His back is pressed against the back of the couch. He looks up at me with ever so pleading eyes. Looking at me like he was desperate, wich he was.

“Such a pathetic bitch. Going to your enemies house and begging to be fucked” I say harshly. My grip goes back to his neck as I choke him slightly. Not enough to actually choke him, but enough to make him lightheaded.

“Sorry, sorry” he closes his eyes for a moment before opening them again.

His eyes meet mine and he looks purely submissive now. It’s funny to me how he is so needy. Maybe I need to ignore him and make him submissive more often, because I like this sight.

I pull him closer by his neck kissing him again. His hands ghost over my sides not daring to actually touch.

I pull away abruptly, listening to his whine.

“Undress.” I says simply standing in front of him.

While I watch him undress I turn off the TV fully. The movie had been paused, but I hadn’t paid attention to it anyway.

He does as I say. He slips off all of his clothing. He’s left fully nude in front of me for me to look at.

He squirms under my harsh gaze. But he is turned on. It’s obvious by his rock hard dick. It’s already red and swollen, leaking pre cum, looking for some release.

I pull out the vibrator from my pj pants pockets. I had gotten it from upstairs. Chris never let me use it on him, unless he was being really submissive.

And since he was, I might as well have fun.

I press it to his tip gently, not turning it on anything yet. I look back at him. I capture his mouth in a kiss. And then turn the vibrator on. He actually flinches at the sudden stimulation.

The kiss is messy, mainly because Chris can’t focus. But The vibrator is literally on the lowest level.

I pull away from the kiss listening to Chris whines and moans. He keeps his hands at his sides. He knows better than to try to get it away. But he looks like he’s itching to just push it away, overwhelmed by the amount of pleasure.

“You look so stupid right now” I chuckle.

I put the vibrator on the secound lowest level. But that alone is high enough for Chris to physically hold himself back from flinching. His moans and whines turn into breathless whimpers.

“Answer.” I scoff. And before I knew it I slap him across the face harshly. The clap echos through the room.

I was letting my pent up enger out, but Chris was enjoying it. As soon as I slap him, his mouth falls open in a silent moan.

Chris didn’t seem like the type. But he had a raging degradation kink.

The sting of the slap traveled right to his dick. His length was twitching in my hand. He was sinking further and further into the couch. He was enjoying this.

“I know-“ he breathes out. But I cut him off by turning the vibrator on higher.

His body practically jolts forward in pleasure. He tries not to come right then and there.

His hand grabs my wrist, the one that was holding the vibrator. “I’m close-“

“I don’t care Chris. If you come now you’ll have to go through the rest overstimulated.” I shrug. Then I abruptly turn the vibrator to its highest setting

He tries to curl his body in on himself but I push him back. And within seconds hes coming all over himself.

I keep the vibrator situated on his tip. I watch how he stays rock hard. His dick starts twitching as his whines get louder and needier.

He weekly pushes my hand off. But after A moment I take it off fully.

While he heaves for breath, I start to undress. I straddle him. When he feels me sink down on his tip his hands go to my waist out of instinct.

I sigh at the feeling. We haven’t fucked in what feels like ages. The stretch hurts. But still I purposefully clench around him to make it even tighter.

His eyes are clenched shut. He’s a moaning mess.

“Chris open your fucking eyes” I slap him again. His eyes flutter open.

“You look so cute all submissive” I taunt. I’m only half way down and I’m struggling. But he doesn’t need to know.

Before he can whine in answer I ram myself down. I wince at the feeling. But Chris’ moans are louder.

I start to gently bounce on him. But he is growing overstimulated quick.

I keep on doing that, my glare focused on Chris. Chris’ eyes shut tightly for a moment. He breaths harshly.

His eye meet mine again. He looks purely submissive. His head tilted down slightly, mouth slightly agape.

“Handsome boy, all needy to get fucked like this hm?” I wait for him to answer but he just whines and moans in response to my movements.

“Can you talk baby?” I ask, huffing. I grab his face, slightly squishing his cheek together with one hand. “Hm? You like getting fucked like this?”

He gasps when I speed up the pace. He blinks a few times, halfheartedly throwing back his head.

Another slap echos through the living room. His head is turned to the side his eyes wide. His mouth is agape as he tries to hold it together. “I told you to fucking talk Chris”

One of his hands goes to his cheek. He grits his teeth trying to formulate words.

But before he can, my hand goes to his neck gently squeezing as I start to ride him harder.

“So good- fuck-“ he breaths out harshly.

His eyes are half lidded. The rough treatment only serves to turn him on even more.

“Yeah, you like that?” I scoff. My hand snakes from his throat to his neck. I pull him in for a sloppy kiss. He can barely focus on anything, every sense in him overwhelmed.

I pull away from the kiss. My hands both move to his shoulders, To use as leverage to ride him harder.

Chris throws back his head, his eyes shutting. He only gets increasingly louder. My movements get harsher and more relentless.

I take one of his hands from my waits and position it at my clit. “Rub it” I demand. And as soon as I do he starts to rub it vigorously.

I clench around him, feeling my release wash over me. Chris’ hand on my hip gets harsher and harsher. I keep moving though, until I feel him twitch.

I quickly pull off an hover over him.

I sit down on his thighs, then start to jerk him off harshly. I put the vibrator back to his tip and turn it on.

Chris’ body harshly jerks forward. I put a hand on his chest and push him back.

And within a few seconds Chris is coming all over himself again.

We both pant as I stare at him. I keep sitting on his thighs as I watch him for a moment.

I lean down and leave a peck on his forehead. I pull him into me. My arms wrap around his neck, putting his face into the crook of my neck.

I pull away from him and slowly get up off of him. I pull on my panties, and pj pants again. As well as my top. Quickly getting dressed again.

I really don’t want to, but he needs to go. As much as I missed him, I made it a point to not hook up with him.

And now that I have, I might as well treat him like he treats me.

“You have to leave.”

He pause looking at me questioningly, It’s like he hadn’t expected me to tell him that. Like he expected us to just hang out and cuddle or something.

Which is not going to happen.

“What?” He questions, his tone sounding blunt, almost harsh.

“Christopher, I want you to leave” I say more sternly. I overpronounce every word to make sure his stupid brain understands it.

“Why” he scoffs frustrated. He stares at me like I’m crazy. Like I’m crazy for telling him to leave when leaving is literally all he ever does.

“Christoper.” I grit out my tone more harsh and serious.

I can’t help the loud scoff that I let out. I walk to the nearest bathroom. I grab a towel halfheartedly dampening it.

I walk back to the living room, where Chris sits mildly stunned. I throw the damp towel on him watching as he awkwardly cleans himself.

“What’s up with you” he sasses me. His gaze is judging.

“I hate you, Chris. I always will.” My words are harsh. And the more I talk the more I can see him narrow his eyes at me in anger, growing more upset by the second.

“Just because we fuck, doesn’t mean I like you. You’re a shitty person.” I take in a deep breath. I feel like I could say worse than that.

“I hate you, and you should leave.” I purse my lips. I watch his expression shift. His jaw clenches, and I can see that he looks like he is about to blow up on me.

The withdrawal symptoms of not fucking me were too much, but now he feels the rage. He remembers why he hated me so much. I can literally feel the hatred and anger radiating off of him.

His already sharp jawline only seems accentuated by the way he clenches it. He swallows his Adam’s apple bobbing.

Chris’ eyes narrow at me, but he just gets up and puts his clothes back on. He looked furious.

I hate him, so why would I let him stay, why would I forgive him. He got the Sex he wanted, so why was he so pissy about leaving?

Now fully dressed he walks closer to me, not touching me.

“What’s wrong with you?” He scoffs. His mood was now definitely sour.

“That’s how you always treat me Chris. Now leave” I snap back at him, getting just as angry as him.

“Okay cherry, have it that way” he gives me a halfhearted sarcastic nod. He then brushes past me to the door, opening it, before a loud slam echoes through the house.

I had sworn to not hook up with him anymore. And if I did that I’d treat him like he treats me. But why do I feel so shitty now?

Can’t a girl have sex and then he all giddy and want to cuddle?

Yes but Chris’ presence irks me. It’s disgusting. He is disgusting.

Masterlist

A/N: requests are always open. pls give me ideas on how to continue this <3 comment if u wanna be on the taglist

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos

#sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #christopher sturniolo x reader smut #Spotify

[eustasskidagenda]

hello im so excited that your ask box is open and youre taking requests! i dont request things often, so this might be a but of a weird concept, and i apologize if its too detailed. however the idea literally wont leave me alone. orz;;

maybe eustass kid has a crush on a somewhat reserved reader whose slow to open up and he hasnt quite realized thats what hes feeling until they stop on an island and meet readers childhood friend. they show a whole new side of themself with said friend by laughing openly, making stupid jokes, being much more physically affectionate. basically reader acts close with an old friend and kid gets jealous about it.

i dont mind if you do a oneshot, drabble, or headcanon, im just curious about your thoughts on this :3 thank you so much and i hope you have a great day!

Hello dear anon! Sure, I'm always happy to write for my pookie. It was fun to write, and it makes me smile a bit because Kid is such a mess, I love this angry tulip. Hope it will match your expectations. ☆

☆Kid with a s/o slow to open up

CW : g/n reader, a bit of cursing but fluff overall

WC : 700

Kid has always been loud. Whenever he's angry, he needs to shoot at someone. What can he say? His heart is filled with emotions, boiling and exploding like a thousand sparks. That's why you're a mystery. Always calm. Not letting others know what's on your mind. What makes you so quiet? He can't tell. 

Just like the moon and the sun, you are polar opposites. And yet, as the sun always chases the moon, he's always looking after you. And he's everything, but not discreet. Asking loudly for almost all of his crew what they think about you and why you are so reserved. 

Sure, he's used to introverted folks. Killer is one of them. But here's the difference: he can second-guess every word, thought, and breath of his best friend. He could probably achieve all of his sentences. And even through the mask, Kid could also guess the exact expression on Killer's face. 

Killer, who is likely aware that Kid has a small crush on you.

Kid is genuinely frustrated. Loudly frustrated, obviously. He needs to feel in control of everything and hates when he doesn’t have a full-understanding. Usually, he fails to notice reserved people because he's taking all the attention. But there's something about you: your slight smiles, the flash in your eyes, the way you're always listening to others but never talk about yourself. He can't tell why, but it keeps his mind alert. 

Perhaps you pose a bit of a challenge. Kid would never give two flying fucks about you if you were easy to see through. He's always looking after you because you're still a mystery. Sure, at the beginning, it was just to try to figure out who you really are. But now, it turned into something bigger. He hasn't noticed it yet, that’s all. Kid sucks with feelings. Feelings are actually something he hates because they make him feel weak. It puts his loved one in danger. Showing your weaknesses to enemies is a foolish move, Kid knows that perfectly.

However, everything is about to change. He decided to stop on that island for the day. For the first time, you asked to avoid robbery or harming anyone around. 

"Ugh, we're pirates, y/n" Kid doesn't want to look like a nice guy. He's a tough, rude pirate. He has a reputation to uphold. For him, the only good way to open a path is by violent means. Kindness? For what? If he's still alive today, it's because he toughened up and decided to never show mercy to anyone. 

"Fine, fine, I won't kill those people." Heavy sighs. But he wants to understand. He needs to understand. And finally, he's about to understand. 

Because suddenly, you're smiling heartily and running towards those scumbag strangers. What. The. Fuck. It's like seeing the sun after an eternity of blizzards and grey clouds. You're a bright light, a true sunshine. A burst of joy. You're joking, laughing, talking, and talking a lot. You never said more than two sentences in front of him, and now you're chatting endlessly with those strangers and hugging all of them. 

He's pissed off. Are those random people with terrible sense of style and ugly make-up better than him? The great Eustass "Captain" Kid? No way. 

"Guys, here's my captain, Kid. Kid, here are my childhood best friends."

Kid's face is a mess of angry scowls and boiling with frustration when they say hello. Why aren't you smiling as warmly when you're with him? Why is his heart pounding so hard, almost painfully in his chest? And damn, is it the cold or are his cheeks completely red? 

Poor Kid is both flushed and flustered. His first reflex is always exploding when he feels something. "Do you have a problem with me?" Barking through gritted teeth. 

He's ruining the happy-shitty mood and he doesn't care. 

So now, try to explain that you don't have a problem with him. Good luck, he's very stubborn. But once he's more or less calmed (because he's still pissed off), he still can't understand why his heart is racing at the sight of your soft, warm smile.

He wants to see that side of you more often. He wants to be part of those privileged people allowed to know the real you.

Yes, maybe he has a crush on you.

#one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kid headcanons #eustass kid x y/n #eustass kid x you #eustass kid imagine #eustass kid #one piece requests #eustass kidd x reader #eustass x reader #eustass captain kidd #one piece x y/n #one piece x you

[static-symphony-fm]

you are in love (true love)

now playing: you are in love (taylor's version)

pairing: magnus chase x fem! reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: 5 people who knew magnus was in love with you before you did + 1 sword

an: FIRST FANFIC LETS FUCKING GOOOOO this took so long to write! I love how I accidentally made it blue themed even though that's magnus's least favorite colour 😭 its ok we all know he's canonically a 1989 girly

fun fact i actually took the first picture! i shit you not I was on a road trip with my family READING MAGNUS CHASE and I look up and see THAT SIGN and i SCRAMBLED to take a picture

content/ warnings: 5+1 things, background blitzstone bcs c'mon they're basically canon, shitty writing, kissing ooo spooky, magnus being a simp, there actually isn't a whole lot of reader in this x reader fic, minor allusions to sex stuff, a lot of swearing, weird use of perspective, i was trying to go for third person limited but magnus is the one it's limited to not reader? but reader is referred to using second person? sorry if it's confusing.

1. samirah al-abbas

  if someone had told magnus a year ago that in a couple month’s time, meeting for coffee weekly with one of his best friends and not getting kicked out of the overpriced coffee shop was going to be the most normal thing in his life, he wouldn’t have believed them. probably would have flipped them off, too, and stole their wallet as he walked away. but he’d like to think that he was a changed man, seeing as he was, in fact, in a hipster café in boston, trying not to make fun of all the fancy menu options. like, seriously? who orders a dragon fruit, pomegranate, and kale smoothie?

he realized he’d been thinking for too long and returned his attention to samirah, sitting across from him and discussing wedding plans for her upcoming marriage to amir as she sipped her latte. he noticed the way her eyes seemed to get brighter, and her entire body language conveyed how excited she was as she talked about him. magnus had a fleeting thought about how good it must feel to love someone so unconditionally like that, and have them love you back just as much. 

as if reading his mind, samirah finished her sentence and studied him, tilting her head as she seemed lost in thought, peering at him like he was a calculus problem she couldn’t quite figure out. 

after a few seconds, magnus broke the silence. 

“alright, it’s getting weird. why’re you looking at me like that?”

samirah snapped out of it, focusing on what he was saying.

“nothing, just… do you think you’ll ever get married?”

jeez, that was a loaded question. magnus narrowly avoided choking on his black coffee, swallowing and burning his throat before answering.

 “sam, i’m dead.”

“so? people get married in valhalla all the time. i have been to a very disproportionate amount of weddings in the two years i worked there.”

“yeah? how many of those end in divorce?”

samirah took a long drink of her coffee, swallowing it slowly as she responded.

“forever is a very long time, and no relationship is perfect, but wouldn’t it be better to have someone to spend that time with?”

“…i guess.” magnus accepted, lost in thought. truthfully, samirah was right, like always. if circumstances were different, if he hadn’t died at sixteen, he could imagine himself getting married. settling down. living in a cabin in the forest with two kids. 

a thought came into his mind, entirely of its own accord, of doing all of that with you. your laugh, your soft hair, the way your lips curled up and your eyes widened when you smile. you’d probably be a great mom.

whoa, what the hell? he should definitely not be thinking about getting married to his friend, what the fuck? that is not normal. 

he pushed the weird thought out of his mind as best he could, gulping his coffee and focusing on the burning in his throat and not what he was just thinking. samirah had gone back to talking about amir, and magnus was not going to think about marrying you any longer.

2. alex fierro

after nearly getting his head cut off by alex’s garrote for the third time that day, magnus needed a break. alex had decided that magnus needed to learn to fight without the help of jack, and it wasn't going too well for him. he collapsed on the bench next to alex, chugging half a bottle of water before even taking a breath. alex rolled her eyes. 

“it’s not that hard, you just aren’t fast enough.”

magnus managed to control himself and not say a snarky comment back, but it was a close call. instead, he ignored her, staring straight ahead and not engaging. unfortunately, you were in his direct line of sight, sparring with mallory only a few metres away. alex picked up on this quickly, nudging his side. 

“you like watching y/n fight, huh?” she teased, smirking. damn, why did she have to be so perceptive?

“what? no. shut up.” magnus replied quickly, trying to hide his blush. “i mean… she’s a good fighter. not like i like her or anything like that.” 

“mhm. suuuure you don’t.” alex replied, definitely not believing him. fuck.

“i’m telling the truth!” magnus protested. god, how was arguing with alex harder than physically fighting her? 

“yeah. did you see her necklace today? pretty, right?”

“she’s not even wearing a neck- fuck.” magnus said instantly, before catching himself. 

“go to hell.”  he swore, glaring at alex, who was grinning at him in a way that reminded him a little too much of her mother. 

“you first.”

      3 + 4. blitzen & hearthstone

“magnus? magnus?”

a pale hand reached in front of magnus face, waving and then snapping its fingers, bringing him back to reality. he blinked and looked around at hearth and blitz, sitting across from him in the dining room of the chase space. hearth took his hand back to sign finally, raising his eyebrows sarcastically.

“your head’s way up in the clouds, kid.” blitz remarked, drumming his short, well manicured fingernails on the table, his silver engagement ring glinting.  he was right. magnus definitely was pretty out of it lately. 

probably thinking about y/n, hearth signed. jeez, why did every conversation he had have to be about you? and no, he most certainly was not thinking about you and your pretty eyes and your delicate hands and the way your ass looked in those jeans you were wearing yesterday… jesus fucking christ, he needed to stop.

 he buried his face in his hands and groaned loudly, then raised his head back up so hearth could read his lips, hoping that his blush wasn’t as visible as it felt. 

“i am not thinking about her.” he lied through his teeth. 

“there’s nothing wrong with having a crush, you know.”

ugh, why did they have to act so much like his dads? 

“i don’t have a crush!”

“kid, you’re a terrible liar. everyone can see the way you stare at that girl. now remember, if you’re doing anything intimate, you gotta use protection…”

that’s it. magnus couldn’t stand up from the table fast enough

 “nope! this conversation is ending right now. good talk!”

5. annabeth chase

magnus and annabeth had been walking around new york for the past three hours, trying to make up for the ten years spent apart.  annabeth had shown him her favorite library, and pointed out a bunch of cool architecture in nearby buildings, with a promise to show him and his friends camp half-blood in the summer.

 they were currently taking a break, stopping for lunch at a falafel place that wasn’t quite as good as fadlan’s, but it was still falafel. magnus was enjoying listening to annabeth talk about her architecture projects– she was taking online classes to prepare for the higher level of new rome university’s program. 

magnus loved listening to her talk about things he didn’t understand. as a child he’d always thought she was a genius, the way she always solved puzzles and math problems easily. ten years later, that theory still held up, hearing her go on about a bunch of terms he didn’t understand.

“sorry, i’m probably boring you to tears. you wanna talk about something else?”

annabeth offered.

“no, it’s fine… i really don’t have a lot going on.” magnus replied, smiling politely.

“come on. there’s gotta be something interesting.” an idea seemed to come to annabeth.

“you have a crush on anybody?”

magnus swallowed. 

“no.”

but he was too slow. those steel gray eyes that matched his own were locked on him like a hawk, or maybe an owl. 

“yes, you do. come on. spill!”

magnus stayed silent. he was not telling his cousin about his crushes, but those metallic eyes stayed locked on him. he eventually gave up. annabeth could be scary when she wanted to be.

“fine. fine. her name’s y/n…”

+1. jack

 it was movie night at the chase space. was magnus ever gonna stop calling it that? no. it was cool. shut up. the credits were rolling on some disney movie that alex had insisted on, and everyone else was slowly but surely making their way to their rooms, yawning as they said their good nights. you had been sitting next to magnus on the couch the whole time, and suffice it to say that he had had some trouble concentrating on the film.  

it was just you and him, you in your nirvana t-shirt and gray sweat shorts, and in that moment, he decided to tell you.

 you got up to leave, waving at him, and in a feat of bravery so incredible it would be studied by historians for centuries to come, magnus managed to work up the nerve to speak up. 

“hey, uh, can i talk to you for a sec?”

“sure? what’s up?” you asked as you sat back down.

jesus, what had he gotten himself into? it’s ok, magnus, you got this. you beat loki in a flyting. you can talk to a pretty girl. 

“uh, i was just thinking… i just…” off to a great start, aren’t we? fuck off, voice in his head. he can do this. he took a deep breath.

“i really like you. you're gorgeous and funny and so insanely smart. i’m an atheist but i’m praying to god you feel the same way. will you be my girlfriend?”

you bit your lip, breaking eye contact as you looked off into the distance. fuck. you were gonna say no and then he was never gonna be able to talk to you again and he was gonna have to change his name and move to canada…

“can i kiss you?” 

what.

there were a million things magnus expected you to say, but that was none of them. he managed to stutter out a simple “please…” and then you leaned forward and your lips were on his and magnus chase died.

this felt more like the end of his life than being knocked off a burning bridge and drowning did. his heart was beating a million times a second, and he seemed to have forgotten how breathing worked. your lips were softer than anything he’d ever felt before.

 he managed to reciprocate a little, mostly acting on instinct, and all he could think about was how astronomically better this was than jackie molotov in the seventh grade.

what was he supposed to do with his hands? he was pretty sure that keeping them at his side was the wrong answer, so he moved one to your waist and the other one to the back of your neck, tangling it gently in your soft hair as his lips moved against yours.

gods, he could have stayed like that until ragnarök, but his stupid sword had to ruin the moment. jack started buzzing on his neck sleepily, seeming to have been woken up ungraciously. he hoped that you couldn’t feel it, but that was pretty unlikely, considering how close you were to him. jeez, he was blushing more and more every time he thought about that. 

eventually, you pulled away, smiling a little. 

“good night, magnus.”

he nodded, unable to form words, and managed to stand up and walk back to his room, wide eyed, operating on autopilot. he walked into his room and immediately collapsed backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling without blinking, completely still. not a thought passed through his mind for at least ten minutes, till he finally was able to reach up and pull jack’s pendant off of his necklace.

“dude, what happened to blades before babes!?!”

#magnus chase x reader #d.j. robin's corner! 💐🎧🎙📻 #magnus chase #percy jackson #magnus chase and the gods of asgard #percy jackson x reader

[novlr]

do you have any tips on how to get better at showing, not telling when it comes to descriptions in stories? i really struggle with describing characters without blatantly telling you what their features are especially. i always find myself reverting back to telling without realising it. thanks!!

Our post in the Reading Room today is all about showing, not telling, and includes these great writing exercises to help you improve your skills!

Writing exercises to show, not tell

Picture this!

Using a random picture (it can be anything from a stock photo, your favourite painting, or a book cover you like), describe what it shows without explicitly stating what’s depicted.

This isn’t an easy task, but it’s a great challenge to get you to start describing things without stating the obvious. It’s a good way to practice giving readers a sense of things and really putting your imagination through its paces.

Let me give you an example below:

With a regal bearing and a piercing green gaze, she stands before the void in feline judgement.

Sensory immersion

Choose a familiar setting, like a coffee shop, a park, or a favourite restaurant. Spend a few minutes observing your surroundings, paying close attention to the sensory details, then write a descriptive passage that never mentions exactly where you are.

Focus on sensory details and illustrate what is happening around you. Share this passage with someone who is also familiar with the place and see if they can tell where you’re writing about from description alone.

All about action

Take a character from one of your stories or create a new one. Write a scene where the character experiences a strong emotion, such as joy, anger, or fear. Without explicitly stating the emotion, write around it using action only.

You can use body language, facial expressions, and gestures but avoid using anything (synonyms, for example) that will give away the emotion. Show it to a trusted writing buddy and see if they can guess the emotion you’re trying to convey.

Talk it out

Write an exchange between two characters where they are having an emotionally charged moment. You can use a character you’ve created, or use two characters from a favourite book or TV show that you know well. As long as you have a good sense for who they are and their back story.

The exercise is to avoid directly stating the emotion each character is experiencing; instead, use tone of voice and word choice to illustrate their emotional state and convey their thoughts and emotions indirectly.

Narrate your day

This one is super fun, but be warned, if you do it in public, people will think you’re a little odd. I’ve done it before, and it resulted in some hilarious real-world interactions, but just be prepared. Some of you might prefer to only do this one when you’re alone.

The task for this is to narrate everything you do for a day. Using the recorder on your phone, dictate your actions, your thoughts, and your feelings. Going for a walk? Talk about where you’re going, what is around you, how things feel under your feet, and what the weather is like. What other things are you thinking about on the walk? How are you feeling? Not just in the moment, but what is going on in the back of your mind?

At the end of the day, listen back to everything you’ve narrated. Take note of what sticks out. When I did this exercise, I found that the emotions I thought I might be feeling in any given moment were often not the ones that I was actually feeling. For instance, I’d spoken with my family earlier in the day, and there was a sense of homesickness that wormed its way into every other moment of the day, from my interactions with others to my mood before bed.

An exercise like this can really help show you how to use subtext to show, not tell.

Remember to approach these exercises with an open mind and a willingness to experiment. The goal is to practice and refine your ability to show rather than tell, not to generate a world-class piece of prose that you’d immediately want to include in your next project.

#writers #creative writing #writing #writing community #writers of tumblr #creative writers #writing inspiration #writeblr #writerblr #writing tips #writblr #novlr #writer things #show dont tell #showing not telling #descriptive writing #writing exercise #writing exercises #writing prompt #learn to write #helping writers #writing resources #creative writing resources #writing advice #writer #writers helping writers #how to write

[yinses]

all and half pt. i

in which your fate intended is the one person you can achieve true pleasure from 

pairing: modern au! alhaitham x fem! reader, minor kaveh wc: 10k+ (i wrote over 70k+ words for genshin alone last year, that's crazy talk) rating: mature 18+

a/n: so we have two people to thank for this. 1. @mystic-sky rescued my sanity with this fic. i always worry about characterization and plot sense. she's actually the culprit who got me into genshin so really it all started with her. and she made me tear up a bit so here we are. 2. you guessed it, @mediocrityexpert who never failed to mention this man at all opportunities with pictures included until i became the simp you see now. this fic is meant to be her wish banner charm! hope this story brings as much joy as his homecoming

you had a plan. 

a simple and easy one-step outline that was meant to be fool-proof for a lifetime.

avoid your fate intended and you wouldn’t have any problems 

the idea of connecting with another living being on a level of complexity assisted by the archons would be thought to be a spiritual venture. except the very gods who wrote the lining principals found more value in physical compatibility rather than soul binding merit.

it was proclaimed, since what is thought to be the beginning of teyvet, that an individual's soul would be tied to another through the carnal utopia found at the peak of an orgasm. scholars liked to believe that it was a forethought with intention to cultivate the proliferation of humanity; but you like some just inhaled a little too much meditation incense.

if you never reached true nirvana then there was nothing for you to compare it to. thus, you could go about enjoying the frivolousness of life and it's untethered freedom. 

there was something to say about 'true love' when your soulmate could only be found at the peak of an orgasm. they say for those who have had sex in the past that nothing is commensurable beyond that. you don’t even have to love the person. the sex is just that good. 

apparently it’s the worst for virgins—never knowing what came before and rarely having the courage to experience anything less. 

the idea of soulmates was a broken concept of love. ruining stable relationships for the desire of an infallible sexual experience. to think fates were willing to reduce passion down to its most carnal physical form and bind people to it. 

it was the forbidden fruit for some. 

or what was left after it fell from the hands of celestia.

you weren’t in a relationship; had nothing to tie you down. but you refused to have your body hijacked by one person who could only rock your world because of erotic devine intervention. 

it didn’t make you easy by any terms, just determined to always have a taste for what else the world had to offer. 

there was good sex out there.

mind blowing, leg numbing sex.

and not everyone needed the most expensive cake in the shop to achieve satisfaction. 

and that had been the testament of your life thus far, until today.

you were there, edging over the line you’d come to know like a second home, when it all just stopped.

the sheets shifted as the figure hovering above used his hold against your headboard to halt the progression of his hips.

“sorry, i just can’t.”

and the dessert began to crumble.

his face pinched in a way that was far from sexy, “it’s not you.”

of all the times. 

“i just thought it was all myth and legend you know. it wasn’t possible for one person to hold the key to your sexual awakening, right?”

and now he was pulling out. no, no, no. you head hit the stale fluff of your pillow with a thump. 

“or maybe it’s just you-.

you found flimsy satisfaction thump in the sound that came from knocking the second pillow into the blonde head of hair.

“okay, okay. not you. it was great before. but now it’s just—“

archons.

groaning into the mattress, you accepted that the mood was beyond repairable, left to simmer in the rustled sheets and sticky wetness connecting your thighs. honestly what was fate thinking ruining a perfectly good thing. 

“you don’t even love them, kaveh.” you grumbled out crassly. maybe it was a little insensitive. but it was true.  

he’d run into them on a whim, no more bound to you than you were him. it had only taken one night and and a short consideration to make a difference it seemed.  kaveh had once he was a pessimist like you; willing to stick a middle finger to fate and find your own asylum without discovering the road paved out for you. 

the two of you shared stories, marking your own sexual discoveries while exploring ones of your own. you could have married him. 

maybe. 

eventually, possibly, after accepting that you had unearthed all you could from your back- and other various positions.

were you selfish to deem it unfair ?

you’d taken a chance. you filtered through all the variables in an attempt to beat the odds. only to have it slapped in your face. and they even took away your orgasm with a last hoorah. 

“it’s fine.”

it wasn’t. 

well, you would move on. he was the best so far but there were plenty of fish in the sea it seemed as if he caught a bigger one, so to say. it wasn’t the least bit awkward as the two of you gathered your clothing, less of you as in the comfort of your own home you were comfortable in just a shirt and panties. 

an old shirt of his in fact. 

the last of your collection. 

he has the nerve to actually look guilty at the door and you can’t bring yourself to weigh him down any further. 

“hey, we were in a mission to find all the wonders of sex. be happy you get to clock out before your dick fell off.” the pat on the shoulder you give him feels lacking, but you had to stretch to get there so it wasn’t without effort. 

his lips split into a small cautionary smile. 

“hey, maybe yours is—“

no. nope. no evil spirits in your house. 

all hospitality leaves you as you press and prod him through the door. just because he was content didn’t mean you were ready to accept the deal. 

“don’t let your next orgasm send you into a coma. baby steps, kaveh.” 

he laughs like you expect him too, waving you off with a wider grin as he departs, likely to slip into the bed of his dreams. 

and now you were left with an absent orgasm and one less reliable partner. 

great.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

it’s funny how something so soul binding can’t even be properly taught in school. it's wholeness left for young people to discover on their own experience and limited research on the subject available to the general public. teachers spoke lightly on the topic of becoming one with another through body and soul.

the only interesting thing to come from joining the akademiya was dissertations being written as close to erotic novels. 

you convinced yourself to take it easy-ier over the last few weeks since kaveh's unforeseen retreat. you were not that desperate for a good lay and fate would end up handing you want you didn’t desire if you weren’t careful. so instead of your usual nightclubs and after hour ventures, you found yourself wasting hours in lighter pubs. 

maybe not completely losing time. a decent drink and sound music was as good a stress reliever as any. 

relaxing into the bar seat, you manage to keep from losing your balance. the lack of back support seemed like a latent encouragement of chances of falling to the floor, but you were only two glasses in at the moment. as your fingers traced the edge of the glass in languid circles, you wonder if you should just call it a night. 

it had been quite awhile since you’d let yourself wander into bars. back in your early undergrad days, it had been in the accompaniment of friends to alleviate any stress built up over the semester. it was safe to say you’d matured a little since then; or at least discover an alternative that was just as satisfying. 

but then kaveh had to go and ruin that. 

it was as equally frustrating to admit you were both dissatisfied with the abrupt departure as you were pleased it ended before it festered into something too entangled for you both to escape. though 'finding your soulmate ‘ route was still well outside your expectations.

nearly a year ago, your introduction to kaveh had been fortuitous. he was a graduate, senior to your status, but a frequent of the akademiya due to renovation projects. he had been a pretty face, an easy distraction when his latest construction was near the vahumana school grounds. 

all it took was a pair of wandering eyes and a few smiles to strike up a conversation. after a cursory drink here and there and a night out of fun, the kindling chemistry began. 

it had never been an intention for either party to make it more than that. one shot too many had kaveh confessing about his mountains of debt that put him in direct servitude to the akademiya. 

and you had no desire to date either, at least not while the sages were still prickling your nerves about research. but you also were willing to admit that you were getting a little too old to be bar hopping for a night out.

kaveh fit comfortably in the midst of both criteria. 

he was a reliable lay and it helped that lately it took effort to run into one another. he was always focused on a new project and you spent more time in the library than your own apartment. which was ironic, because the majority of your ‘meetings’ occurred at your place rather than his. 

something about a belligerent roommate. 

now he was out gallivanting in the desert in the pursuit of creative inspiration; an interesting metaphor when he was towing his newest obsession along for the ride.

but apparently that was a thing of the past as you found yourself in an establishment that was better referred to as a tavern than a bar, or at least one less frequented by akademiya students. the campus bars were always full and bursting with a cocktail of students and occasional faculty members. it was a dangerous mix of egos and alcohol. 

it was why you found it worth it to venture to port ortmos on occasion to the habour tavern. the lack of boisterous music was nice, but the atmosphere was empty of intrigue. not to mention the place hardly offered a promising selection. not a favorable gift of wine, and top shelf liquor was hardly in their vocabulary, let alone supply list. you decided eventually not to waste time trying to explain the ingredient of a zaytum sunrise. 

a sigh tickled you lips and your shoulders sagged an inch lower. really there were more pressing issues than laminating over bed partners. you were rapidly approaching the end of your scholarship, making you one step closer to your dissertation. which was still a prospective theory with no hardened evidence worth presenting. 

it took something akin to guts to challenge the age old belief of soulmates. in sumeru, it was the equivalent of a religion and you stood as the outsider throwing rocks at the stained glass chapel.

what you believed wasn't meant to be interpurted as hate, but clashing ideology tended to paint one side as the villain in order to raise the value of the rest. 

you didn’t want to topple the pedagogy, but be given the opportunity to confront it fairly. but with a theory so widely supported in droves, it was no surprise that no one took it seriously. the akademiya hadn’t even blinked when you had proposed it, not threatened in the slightest. 

nor had you wanted them to be. all you wanted was to be heard and given the chance to provide a new perspective. 

your mentor had been rather agreable about the matter, offering encouragement and diffusing tension in equal bouts. but they also had their concerns, more so for your future than the present. 

though not insistent on deterring you, they often hinted at your growing fascination in conservation and rejuvenation of old practices to save the future. the histories of the past often held secrets for the future, they liked to say. vahumana was as proud as any house, determined to make their mark on the world and the research that gave it life.

but you liked to argue that the past also had plenty of mistakes as well, a shaky ground to dispute your soulmate theory on but one worth grasping all the same. 

“maybe i should just summerise my conservation efforts,” you grumbled audibly, reluctantly tipping the ice-melted drink down the back of your throat. it was the easy way out.  the more practical route with postgraduate application as well. 

discussing soulmates with anyone felt too much like a religious sermon. the emotional process was part of the passion needed to drive the evidence behind the dissertation. half of the presentation was to comfort the audience of your opinion and you had plenty to say on the matter. 

cutting your gaze back over your shoulder, you gradually took in the atmosphere of the tavern. it was small, likely a family owned heirloom passed down generations, a homey style that you’d seen quite a few bars back in the city try to replicate. frankly, it was dusty, cracked and you missed the appeal but it seemed popular with the quieter population. perhaps not as full tonight, but most tables were occupied by one or two patrons. sensibility correcting your wandering gaze, you reluctantly trained your eyes back forward. no need to garner anyones attention, there was hardly anyone here for that kind of late night ventures. mature men were a stark difference from akademiya students. you shudder off the imaginary thought of a stranger’s touch. 

eventually you set your glass down for the last time, signalling the bartender without a word as he rounded back to check on you. in their approach you considered balancing one more round on your psyche. it’d been only been your second glass, watered down at that. you’d linger longer if need be to sober up. but archons, did you just want a glass of wine.

you parted your lips to initiate the order, the bartender not far away to request, but then his gaze was snapping beyond you. a slow tilt of familiarity formed his lips, followed by a polite wave. mannerisms encouraged you not to turn your head, but curiosity was a painful pinch. it was almost too difficult to resist. you were grateful when the bartender moved for you, not even perturbed when he bypassed you for a few seats down. 

the quiet bustle was still too heavy for the distant conversation to carry. idly you twist at the mini straw floating along the melting ice as you way.  

it took a few more moments for the bartender to return to you, an apology muted at his lips but you shrugged it off, sliding the glass closer. “just one more. no ice.” he gave his affirmation, the soft smile still lingering. you weren’t piqued by his brightened service. he’d been nothing but amicable to you, but it was something to take notice of. 

the moment his back turned, the burning itch came back. just a peek. everyone got first looks, it wouldn't put you on the spot. you was sure it was nothing you hadn’t seen before but now you had to be certain of it, the tethers of inquisitiveness pulling at your gaze. 

okay, well you definitely hadn’t seen that. 

he was certainly something to observe. the first thing that caught your attention was his musculature, mainly the girth of his arms that were propped against the bar as unaware of the potential interest they could draw.  not to say it was the first time you had been impressed, but he was filled out in a way that tore a page out of a different volume. you had grown use to the leaner builds at the akademiya. 

but it wasn’t just his build, his presence alone took up so much space it was already hard enough to miss him without that silver threaded hair. he held an air of authority that felt strangely familiar yet foreign in the port. 

the click of glass against the counter brought heat to your cheeks as you were caught, your head whipping back to attention. “thank you,” but he was already gone, moving on to the next attendant. 

you filtered through a quiet breath, pretending to be engaged by your phone with spotty service. at this point you were nearing an issue you weren’t ready to admit to at such an early stage. while you were comfortable in saying you could go quite a while without kaveh, the eccentric architecture; kavrh jr’s absence was starting to have some drawbacks. 

to think the bastard was possibly warming someone else’s bed while you refrained from tempting your own. what you refused to believe was that it was the best time of his life. you brought that man closet to the archons than anyone could. 

yet here you were siting alone in a tavern nearly undressing a stranger after hardly a few weeks of no intimacy. what were you thinking even considering the idea? the bartender floated neatly around him but aside from that he hardly gave the impression of being approachable. 

archons ... and weren’t you just imagining how uncomfortable it would be to be approached by someone from this bar. but technically weren’t you one encroaching now? had this been just another city establishment, for one you’d have some proper wine. but at the very least you’d usually just talk. if the receiving end didn’t like it, then oh well, you weren’t circling them like they were the sun.

so he wouldn’t be any different.

besides, if you didn't say anything now you’d be running scenarios of this moment until you really did go insane. you dreaded the thought already. 

you were slightly attracted to him- okay, pretty attracted. and you were still a young adult, it was the season of flings and one offs. surviving your final year at the akademiya thrived a little excitement. cutting your eyes sideways, you recalculated your chances. maybe he-

“if you have something to say, say it. your flittering is just as distracting.”

if warmth described you before, flames were dancing beneath your skin now. the man wasn’t discreet in the slightest, not caring who listen to the exchange. or maybe he was speaking to someone else- oh no, he was looking at you and he was not very intrigued. for a pause you were caught by a churring sea of turquoise. 

you stumbled over deliberation shortly before a new emotion countered the transition. weren’t you just accepting cutting losses? if he was lacking interest then what was the point. 

against your internal will, your lips pulled into a scowl at the potent irritated disinterest in his voice.  “yes, because i’m sure it’s me that’s distracting” 

well, that was not exactly how you intended to start this whole scenerio. playing hard to get was already a slippery slope and your face of indifference was faltering. you could see it mirroring back from the look of reflection on his face. or maybe that was just him contemplating the consequences of just leaving. or maybe he was truly in with the owner enough to kick you out. 

for another moment it looked like he might just, and then something shifted. he reached for his glass again, the amber colour much like your own but in a higher volume. the amount of his intake challenged yours as well, or so you would have noticed if you hadn’t been so entranced by the movement of his adam’s apple. 

“-students.”

what?

you caught the tail end of fostering chagrin but you knew you were rapidly eating up his reserves for patience. really, he could have just been here to relax, not get harassed by some akademiya scholar. 

the man stared at you for a second longer, then scoffed. “apparently the standards have dropped. what school are you from?”

“i…” you trail off, feeling a little nonplussed by the implied merit. “vahumana.”

he hums, a sound audibly dry with scrutiny. “the study of history and the past of our predecessors. fitting to dig into the business of others as you cant seem to mind your own.”

you narrowed your eyes at him,” and you must have been haravatat.”

he huffed in amusement and reached for his glass, the rim tips against the tilt of his lips. he didn't diffuse your assumption. “why's that?”

“because only you would be so far up our asses to know what business we were sticking into.”

there was a smile, but the tone was serious. “cute. what year?”

“final.”

“good. any longer and you might have become unbearable.”

you shot him a look of rebuke,”those same standards would imply that you got kicked out.”

“aw, its adorable that you think we’re held at the same degree,” he said. “i’m afraid i simply out grew their expectations.”

you scoffed. he was so stupidly cocky. “uh huh.” you prepared to turn away when he chirped back, amusement bleeding into the heart of his motive.

“done biting already? didn’t think you would bend to authority so quickly. but i suppose akademiya students know when to fall in line.”

you shot him a chiding look. he came across as tall but the way his torso seemed to stretch even seated. it would have been impressive enough without the additional bulk that added an unfair amount of definition to his clothing—attire that had speckles of familiarity in both its design and colour scheme. 

“you work for the akedmiya.”

he watches you silently. allowing you to work through the calculations. he obviously wasn't a teacher, you would have at the very least heard of him by now especially since he was confirmed haravatat. he had maybe a year or two on you,  just enough to be an established graduate.

looking back now, he did look a bit distinguished. the fine details of his clothing hinted equally at quality and prestige. though the material was tighter to form than usual robes, but you would admit it had it's own unique sense of flair. still it didn't give the full answer you were looking for.

“that’s all you can differ? disappointing.”

“if i’m so unsatisfying, why bother holding a conversation?”

he gives you a look over and you realise you weren't the only one noticing a few things. he was just more subtle.

“with your mouth closed, you’re mildly appealing.”

you could barely resist the roll of your eyes. “funny, most men would say they might prefer it wide open.”

“you must have a lot of soulmates with that kind of confidence.”

this time the effort was for naught as you turn away. 

“oh, sore topic?”

his voice carried despite the action, a touch more smug. 

“well i’m assuming your odds of not finding your true partner are promising enough.”

surprised into reacting, you twist your body in his direction. it was an odd choice of words given the subject. it almost felt as though he were implying something.

“i have your interest then?” 

the intrigued man angled his body towards you leaving you no room to misinterpret his attention. “we both agree that there is physical attraction. and though i doubt i need more points, the likelihood of us discovering the epitome of pleasure is a low possibility.” the offer  is so blunt as he roves you over with calculating appreciation, but those eyes… that blue-green fire-

don’t find that arousing. he’s being a dick.

feeling a bit unsettled by your desire, you averted your eyes briefly before raising them back to his handsome face. you had never once considered yourself weak, the spirit alone strong enough to challenge the akademiya worth its weight in mora. 

pure stubbornness was your greatest defence against a lot of things. 

but temptation was a trial fought time and time again. 

he read your resolve like an open book and finished his drink in an impressive swallow before rising to his feet. he waved down the bartender with a quick hand and then put down a few notes of mora with the other. he walked with intent, hardly harbouring an inch of reprieve in any direction. whatever he was, this was his hunting grounds and he set his sights on you. 

your mouth was dry, glass still untouched as you visibly shuddered under his shadow, “i’m not some easy student-”

archon be willed, you denied yourself the privilege of running your sight down the length of his arm as it benched securely between you body and the bar. there was a smart smirk on his face that you hadn’t witnessed yet, a challenge that you’d be dragged through whether you wanted to or not. “no, you’re just spun too tight and could benefit from new lesson.” 

you parted your lips to rebuttal but he silenced you with a hum. “i’m not going to play the role of some authoritative figure you desperately need. you can either come along or play games with someone else.”

a streak of heat crackled along your nerves at the rawness of his words. to be honest, he looked absolutely done with your presence but there was a primal edge of something you couldn’t place rooting him there. whatever drug him down to this bar was still devouring away at him, tightening his defences to the peak of stress. 

yeah, you bet he could use a stress reliever alight. 

your eyes slipped close as a low groan escaped you.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

it had taken you an embarrassingly small amount of seconds to fork over common sense as you hastily scrambled to procure payment, only to have your attempts overrun by another careless slip of a few bills to cover much more than you had spent that night. it was no wonder he was so popular here.

he didn’t just walk like he owned the place, it certainly seemed like it as he guided you out of the door with a firm hand at the small of your back. not one pair of eyes crossed your paths and from the corner of your own you witnessed the bartender already moving to clear your spot. 

a minute later, you were outside in the slight chill of the nighttime air. but where you were expecting the man to hail a car, instead urged you along the cobble-stone path.

“you live in port ortmos?”

“is that a problem?”

“i just …”

he lifted his chin slightly, “expected me to live in sumeru city? no, i stay there enough for work.”

you hum thoughtfully at the new information,“so that’s why the bartender was so familiar.”

“or maybe he just likes me.”

“or maybe he just likes your money.”

“why are you so sure that i have money?”

it takes effort not to mention the cash he’d tossed so carelessly onto the table top. there could have been one too many stuck to gether, but he had not even paused to check. instead you gesture marginally to the fine clothing stretching over the girth of his arm.

“well at least i know you're only after my body.”

“it's certainly not your personality,” you respond flatly. 

“you would prefer the bigger of the two.”

you click your tongue and look away, determined not to snort at the smooth jest.

the short trip ends when he taps his key fob against the entrance of a modestly built apartment complex overlooking the port. 

“anyone you need to inform of your nightly ventures?" he breaks the silence as he hits the bottom for the elevator to jerk into motion.

it occurs to you with no great pleasure that he was indeed right. you had followed the man with only the speculation that he was part of the akademiya in some capacity. at least you had confidence that he hadn't drug you to some seedy part of town and as long as the bartender didn't sell you out, there would be an evidence trail. 

still you shot off a quick text to a friend, letting them know of your location in the port.

“good girl.”

you scowled to which he returned the gesture with a broad smile.

fortunately, the elevator door opened before anything more could spark. he stepped out first, leading you four doors down before unlocking it and flickering on the first light available. he waved you in with a nod of the head. 

if he was a secret murderer, he was one with good tastes. from the entrance, the home opened up into a modern looking living room with panel windows hanging high above the quiet streets. to the right, an impressive kitchen held more appliances than you even knew what to do with. you assumed the final hallways led down towards the bedroom and other accessory rooms. overall, it was quality living. something to dream of after finally graduating from the akademiya. yet it still did not offer anything more of his position. 

overly curious, you ask, “what is it you do again?”

he smiles, all mischief, “i’m just a feeble scholar.”

the man expects your scoff, lip curling higher as he vaguely gestures to the darkened kitchen,“i’d offer you a drink, but then i’d have to cut the night short. i don't sleep with drunks.”

you shrugged off your jacket, folding it over before lying it on the couch. “i’m not a lightweight.”

he tucked his free hand into his pocket, “but you’re in my home. house rules for guests i’m afraid.”

his shoes echo off the floors as he walked towards you, teasing closeness until you stepped back in turn. a second later, you were backed against the wall connecting the kitchen to the hall.

you swallowed hard to control the nerves flaring under your skin. it was infectious with the way his eyes travelled slowly from your eyes to your lips. he was shameless, continuing down past your collor bone to the subtle swell of your breast until the weight of his gaze dampened your breaths. 

eagerly, you arched your spine,” how else do you treat your guests?”

his eyes retuned to your face,” i suppose you’ve earned that much.” he shuffled closer and trailed his thumb along your jawline, then leaned in and kissed you. his other hand came up to cradle the other side of your face as his lips tugged gently at yours before coaxing them apart. 

then his tongue slips into your mouth and you whimper. its an embarrassing sound that pulls a reaction from him as he breaks the kiss. 

he’d never been close enough before to take in the spicy smell of his person, an additional spritz of expense. something about it burned your nose from this proximity, like he was activating too many of your other senses to not notice. his hands were hot and heavy as they groped at your body, following the curve of your hips and testing the weight of your breast. 

his tongue lapped at your neck, each action only a span of minutes already accumulating a pool at your core. 

you just wanted to kiss him again but he seemed to conveniently remain out of reach. to test it, you craned your neck again only to have him counter by nipping at your ear. 

“did you come to that place just to get laid, sweetness?”

you were beginning to edge away from the dry tone of his voice but he had yet to be proven innocent from the other assumptions. blood finally returned to your hands, rendering you with the ability to move as you grappled at his own body, lavishing in the not so hidden display of muscle. “did it look like it?,” you eventually responded back. 

that earned you another nip, obviously not the answer he was looking for. it wasn’t a gentle one either. the sharp bite of it was still echoing through your nerves and ripping a yelp of arousal from your lips. 

“i just wanted a drink.”

he bit you again. 

you quickly wailed out the truth of the matter, a short sentence about your growing frustration before waiting for another reprimand but the firm pressure of lips responded instead and you sagged into the warmth of it. you dared to ask the same of him but you doubt you had enough strength behind your teeth to get him to comply. 

his pace was ruthlessly, hands sliding and discarding clothing, certainly not interested in prolonging the moment. 

“you’re going to miss that attitude when i’m done with you.” 

the weight of his words should not have produced the reaction that it did. but god did it make you so wet. this man would probably fuck anything. and everything would let him fuck them. 

you’re grappling on to his bicep, meaty muscle probably tenderised from long hours at a pricey gym. he loops one of your legs around his waist, leaving the other standing to allow more room for himself. his fingers are dry when they first touch you, though not for long as they absorb the slickness your body throws at him wantonly. a thumb tweaks your numb and your breath hitches into a pant as he curls two thick fingers into you without warning. 

his face remains refined but his touch is explorative, teasing the spongy walls as he stretches them to their limitations. “unexpected debut but not a bad way to end the night.”

you wished his words would have less of an effect on you, the dichotomy of them and his touch making you out to be a blushing virgin. 

and he keeps talking. 

“akademiya girl, huh? bet you think you’re so smart. “

you keen lowly as he introduces a third fingering, forgoing rudimentary scissoring to just plunge them into your depths. you arch against his hold bucking with no ground to stand on. his hitches your leg higher as a reminder, threatening your barely there balance. 

“look at you, all spread out for me. i said what five words to you? did they not teach you manners? a lot has changed.” he presses with the intent of stretching limitations, and you’re grateful for the debauched ministrations. science and biology taught you more than enough about anatomical proportionality. 

“no resistance. you’d let me fuck you for less wouldn’t you? ” but with the way words just kept off his tongue without preamble, you were nearing certainty that he’d ride the glide of your channel without much resistance. 

he works a hand up the loose material of your shirt, sending your bra into disarray as he tweaks a nipple sharply. the pain is acute, shuddering through your body like a ripple. your groan rolls into a soft hiss as he does it again, enunciating  the action with words. 

“i asked you a question.”

the pressure returns and your body squirms. it's enough to plunk the strings of obediency as your mouth is quick to answer.

“yes!”

his fingers rip from you, cutting the strings of your impending release and you hear the tell tale signs of a belt jingle. the material of his pants shifts, but unlike you they never leave his hips. 

“fuck.” he frees himself, af the musk of him permeates the air. it’s almost intoxicating, urging you too look but you fight the urge. “i knew it. you came to that tavern looking for someone to bit that edge off.”

 you don’t have to, because he’s pressing into you thick and hard and your walls flutter around him. with efficiency, he hitched your last standing leg up as well, leaving you suspended at his mercy. “good thing i came in, i bet you were getting unbearable to your little friends.”

the wall reverberates against the knocking of your body, the offbeat staccato telling any nosey neighbours all they need to know. that's if they weren’t already use to the frequency of overnight guests.

“just needed a few pumps to set you right. “

you tilt your head back and his immediate reaction is to latch back onto your neck, no doubt intending to bruise you both physically and mentally. he’s not immune to his own sounds, grunting through explications with each thrust. archons, it’s so hot, feeling the weight of him dragging over the wet hole, soon to be coined as a delicious ache before the night’s end. 

it’s uncertain if he drew blood, the sticky wetness of your throat a toss up between the possibility and perspiration. 

his name. you need to know his name. desperate to whine it, cry for it, tattoo it onto your tongue. you ask as much of it without realising. 

-haitham. 

you’re supposed to learn of it so soon but don’t disappoint the expectation following the admission. 

“my name is alhaitham.” his name rolls off fluidly and you bite down to savour it before it’s gone.

your head rolls back against the wall, mouth parted for air as your eyes squeeze shut. your breast rise and fall with each hurried breath as alhaitham pins his focus on the thrum and the heat of your clit. 

he’s back at your throat, nosing against the constrictions as your voice strains high and desperate.it was dominating, overwhelming, and even though you could accept that you enjoyed it, you still couldn’t understand why. domineering had it’s attractive qualities, sure, but it was arguably a delicate matter. one that took a fine tuned perspective to account for any aversions and hone in on the pointes of gratification.    

and he knew.

“you looked so pretty at the bar. i’m almost grateful you were so nosy. now you look even more gorgeous. pinned against my wall like a painting.”

a shower of sparks rain down over you and cracks open the door to the flash of lights stippling the dark behind your eyes. you rock yourself forward until it becomes clear that you’re fucking yourself on his fingers until theirs both slick and resplendent with your essence. 

it should be the end, the cut off of your journey but the trip feels like it's leagues long until the horizon breaks and you’re no longer anchored to the terrestrial spear but floating within the realm of celestia. 

he removes his fingers slowly, excruciatingly so, and smears your release over your clit and skin. your nerves feel as delicate as your bones feel weightless. 

you're fortunate that alhaitham is close enough to catch you as you all but collapse against the wall, feeling like someone—no your fate intended—removed all the bones in your body. cheek pressed against his chest, you inhale the scent of his skin while wondering if this was the exact feeling kaveh had. it was indescribable. like you were racing toward the end of days, on the verge of expiring by your own inability to call back the breath that alhaitham had stolen from your lungs. it's a dichotomy of wonder and fear as you come to terms with a terrifying realisation. 

you want more. 

alhaitham lets out a throaty hoarse sound when you bury your hands in his hair and tug at the thick base. he presses his lips harder against yours, determinedly set on devouring you with teeth and tongue if he can get away with it. in turn, you wrap your legs back around the already familiar notch at his hips and squeeze, drawing your front flush against his. 

his erection remains hard and insistent. it’s enough to make you sigh happily against his mouth, arousal blooming above her navel at the promising orgasm it will provide. 

“i want you,” you gasp between kisses, cupping his cheek with one hand while the other continues to pull at his hair. 

alhaitham grunts again at the action and sneaks a hand down between you two to cup your wet mound. two fingers press up, spreading your spend and is immediately reward with another sweet hasp from your lips as he teases the sensitive nub. 

archons, just the faintest touch of his fingers against you is enough to drag back the reminder of the shattering kaleidoscope until the only thing you can think of is him—alhaitham— with either his soul-binding fingers or his cock buried inside. you don't care if it's a repeat performance or something new, as long as you come. 

the truth is so palpable between you but alhaitham has sense enough not to mention it. instead he dips as his arm slips under your knee to pull you into his arms. he walks you towards the darkened hallway where the door at the end opens into his bedroom.

alhaitham pulls at your clothes and you let him, sliding them down until you’re left with nothing and reaching for his. he follows you onto the bed, bracing himself over you. he lowered his head to kiss you, holding you still as he ravishes your mouth until you’re forced to break apart, breath haggard from the effort. 

you blink blearily up at the broad shoulder hovering just by your nose as you resist the itch to squirm. the grip holding you down had lessened dramatically in the last few minutes, the weight of trust holding you still. a soft sigh tickles your lip as his forehead rolls against yours, light and nuzzling.

“you’ve finally lost some of that attitude. that is good. you’re doing so good,” his voice is less dry, holding warmth and reverence for compliance. your head tilts up to seek his lips again, craving the gentle touch and the taste of exhalation.the sharp edges of thoughts fade away, leaving only room to consume and receive. a reward comes in the tweak of thick fingers returning to your apex, twisted deep within you and curling for purchase. in return, you sigh into his mouth, pleased, as you rock into the affection.

“think you can return the favour? let me see what all the fuss is about?” his smile savours the flavour of saccharine, both appealing and intoxicating and you find yourself nodding in acceptance without cause. alhaitham knows he has you anyway- always had- you’d crawl for his mercy if just to have a a taste of the nirvana only he could give you.

he feels the motion of your nod, pressed so close,” i’d like to know what it’s like. feeling your open mouth, the sounds of your gasp as you choke on my cock. ”

his hand remains low, twisting within you as your own rides the length of his body. it’s a stretch, but you manage to brush against the underside of his cock, tracing the thick vein protruding against the surface. your heart thrums, seeking his praise even as his hand leaving you and his thighs shift upward until he hovers at your face.

the heat of him bobs from the movement, tapping your lip and smearing its tackiness. his hand cards through your hair, rumbling veneration as you lick it away then open your mouth to stretch around him.

alhaitham’s hand, girthy and wide, teases the nap of your neck, forming a brace without asking. the rhythm of your tongue is met with a heavy groan of approval, the volume increasing as you swallow around him. the coordination of suction is breathing is an erratic dichotomy but you managed- for him. your mouth continues to caress him as he grows, hips beginning to undulate in aid.

“you’re going to swallow it all, aren’t you, sweetness? for me?” he’s curled over you, blowing through harsh pants as he coaxes another inch down your throat. it still lacked the depth that he would have wanted, but you would still make it good for him.

tears bubble behind your eyes, though not from pain, from sacrifice as you nod once more. it’s still an impossibility to take him to the hilt, but with passion you come close. swallowing the bitter taste of him until the taste of it is tattooed on your tongue. it’s a musky bitterness, thick with salt.

his voice is but a whisper, rolling against your ears. “yes, sweetheart. make me proud.”

you splayed your hands against his thoughts, fingernails digging a little into the skin there but alhaitham could care less. in fact, you dared to say he enjoyed the pinch of pain. it most noticeably shattered his ability to prologe his release as his eyes closed and he allowed the orgasm to surge through him. 

this close, it was impossible not the notice the intense ripple of sensations as his nerve endings sparked with a powerful wave that had his knees trembling above you. just when you feared he might topple, he leaned back, rolling to the side and combing a haggard hand through his hair. 

then your eyes connected and the truth you’d damned up inside, burst forward, barrelling through your defences and overwhelming you. 

this man. alhaitham was your soulmate. this stranger whom you’d let take you home, ravish you beyond your wildest dreams and given you an core shattering orgasm that you were still reeling from. alhaitham who had come to lean in closer than you realised, must have come to the same conclusion as his mouth sealed over yours. 

the featherlight caress of your lips to his made your body yearn for something more than one-sided release, the promise of coming together as one—

a sudden feeling of panic gripped your gut as the final dreads of your euphoria dripped away. scrabbling for your bearings, you nudged at him until he had no choice but to pull away, leaving you more exposed than ever. 

alhaitham’s face was flush with exertion, eyes to feverish but his face was unguarded with uncertainty. 

“are you alright?”

no, you definitely were not and you wouldn't be until you got home. even then you likely wouldn't be okay. you never would be the same after tonight.

“i should go—i shouldn’t have—i just need to leave.”

your heart seized with the sudden ache as realisation weighed down on you. this was not how this was supposed to go. not at all. you pushed yourself off his bed and onto your feet, hastily scrabbling for your clothing. 

alhaitham picked his movements carefully as he straightened up on the bed,” it’s fine if you need space. i know this is a lot but it’s late. you should stay the night.” he gestures out out the door,” my roommate is gone for the weekend, you should take his room.”

but you were hardly listening as you pulled your top over head and headed for the door while working your arms through the sleeves. despite his offer, you continued past the adjacent door until you neared the entrance. 

alhaitham’s steps were heavy as you followed behind. his hand came to your back to steady you as you hoped from one shoe to the other until they fit snug. 

“you are overwhelmed and it's too late. you're not thinking clearly. i don't want you out in the city like this.”

you turned on him before he could finish, “you don't know me. just because were—you—,” you guested widely between the both of you. “this doesn't change anything. “

reading the room, the man carefully held up his hands in surrender. it should have been a commercial sight for a man of his stature given his still nude state. 

“okay, okay. just wait, please.”

it’s the agreeableness that gives you pause. its give him just enough time to round the counter of the kitchen and rummage through one of the doors.  he spares the time to bring a pen to it. when he returns, its with a small card.

“i’m not asking for anything. but if you want to reach me, here. i wont seek you out. but you know where to find me.”

whether he was referring to the tavern or his home was vague. but the look in his gaze wasn’t. no matter how much he tried to hide it, it was there … the expectation. 

you turned away and opened the door, clutched the cardstock in your hand as you hurried to the elevate and punched the downward key until it blinked and the doors opened. you threw yourself inside, not looking back not when the doors closed but until you were free of the building and ducking into the hailed car. 

fucking kaveh, it should have never ended this way.

it had been quite a long time since you’d felt anything remotely shameful after a night in bed with someone new. with kaveh it had never been an issue as he’d wormed his way into a positon of comfort before he’d ever reached your bed. 

the both of you had decided that you enjoyed the fragile lining between friendship and something more, confident that neither would seek out the unknown. he was focused on his growing list of projects to offset his student debt and you were still trying to make the most of your own expenses into your education. 

it had been a simple arrangement that you had been forlorn to see it unravel. but you couldn't put stocks into blaming kaveh forever. he certainly had not led you to the bar housing your soul mate and had no ploy in getting you into their bed. 

no the blame had been solely yours. 

you had barely been able to look at your reflection in the mirror, finding it all the more damning to written the swollen redness of your lips and early signs of hickeys dotting your throat. there had been no point in examining the rest of your body as you slipped into the shower to wash away what you could. however the ache of his presence remained seeped into your bones even as you fell into your blankets.

there had been one too many unsuccessful attempts to silence your mind, your more reasonable half having a field day over-analyzing your choices. 

eventually you'd given up on sleep altogether in favour of squinting against the glare of your phone. if you were going to be riddled by guilt, the best thing to do was to spin it into a web of evidence. for months, you had been trapped trying to craft a damning theory to challenge the damn-near will of the gods. 

and in return they made you into your own attestation. 

in your initial presentation, the sages had challenged your theory as one-sided, some even edging to accuse you of envy. at their age, it was difficult for you to speculate if one or any of them had found their soulmate. there was no rhyme or rhythm to discovering your fated partner. 

some discovered them early, others had to wait until their last breath. 

but in the city of sumeru, where the god’s will was paramount to divine expectation.

if anything the only thing worth of your envy was the free state of mondstat where the country had thrived under their archon’s guidance to seek out their own fate.

it was a plausible dream but sumeru was your home.

closing your eyes, you leaned back against the flatness of your pillow. but behind your eyelids, however, were the lingering traces of last night’s memories etched there. it began with those blue-green eyes, then the image panned out to reveal the entirety of alhaitham, broad and defined in ways built from a fantasy. 

hissing out a sharp curse, your eyes snapped open to shatter the visage. 

it was starting to feel like a never-ending joke. why could it not be as simple as falling in bed with an attractive man. 

you’d barely typed out a sentence before you eventually gave up, signalling defeat with the snap of the device closing. rubbing your eyes, you kicked the device to the edge of the bed and sprawled back against the bed. 

hopefully tomorrow would bring forth a more concise mindset.

|     ⚘⚘⚘      |

you woke several hours later tangled under a sea of blankets and the lingering taste of zaytum peaches. the faint glow of sunlight coming through the window indicated that it was sometime in the afternoon. instinctively, you rolled over to reached for your phone, heart stuttering at the feeling of hard cardstock against your fingertips. 

there had been no effort made to forget about what had transpired less than twelve hours ago, nor was it meant to be a rude awakening. those thoughts were better suited after a shower and something to eat. 

for now you roll out of bed in pursuit of the bathroom, mint taste and burn of mouthwash would help restart your day on a better note. you considered a second shower as well. the heat and steam was always a nice balm on a clogged brain, always helping to clear your head and think. 

the promise of peace lasted about as long foam forming from the slow drag of your toothbrush against your teeth. it didn't take very long at all for your mind to sink into reality; the fog dissipating somewhat as you realised with dread that this would not be something you could avoid without some confrontation. 

alhaitham

the name did not come without an overhanging cloud of density. it was a weighted thing, something of a reminder but you could not figure out the source beyond the stranger you’d met at the tavern bar. 

it was fairly customary name in sumeru though your tallied occurrences were low. perhaps a stray soul at the market in passing but nothing of significance. it had been an akademiya joke to place him in harvata without truly knowing, purely inspired by the natural flow of banter. 

but there wasn’t an alhaitham currently part of the darshan that you knew of. to be frank, when the name alhaitham came to mind it was only accompanied by occasional whispers in the absence of a highly regarded graduate and now scr—

your brows rose with each fragment of proof as realisation dawns with nauseating clarity. the soothing shower quickly becomes a brisk wash as you will your mind to calm. 

you were so stupid. so so stupid.   

spitting carelessly into the sink , you stagger through your strewn clothes as you return back to your bedroom with renewed vigour. the card you had tried to forget was quickly snatched up.

alhaitham kaysani 

grand scribe 

he was that alhaitham. the name bringing forth sobering clarity that had evaded you while post-orgasm. you had only known him in name, never having the opportunity to meet him. he wasn’t just faculty, he was damn near a sage after his achievements and one of the youngest to get so close. 

and he was your soulmate. 

snarky

callous 

rational

these were all phantom rumours stitched into the reality of the man you’d come to witness. 

but he was also dominating

attentive 

and responsible when baring you to the world and unravelling you at the seems. there could be little fault in you for not recognizing him at first given the circumstances. you had never met the man before yesterday.

now, in the safety of your own home, you can admit to yourself that deep down, twisting your perceptions, you'd be a little relieved to have found him. yes, you were scared— worried that fate might have skipped you in your doubt— but the fated milestone was reached. and he had wanted you, albeit sexually, the setting had made you desirable enough to bring you home. even after discovering the truth, he’d reached for more. 

in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest. 

despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future. 

you were both scholars, but he was more welcoming to the present evidence than you were. though given the abrupt shift in your reality, a bit of additional clarity felt like a needed kindness. 

tossing the card back down, you returned to the bathroom with the first spark of determination kindling. if your thoughts were going to be set aflame, you knew who to invite to the bonfire.

                                                 |     ⚘⚘⚘      |

“i thought you said you and kaveh were through?”

finding a friendship with dehya had been an unexpected but appreciative experience. sumeru city was built by and for the cultivation of scholars under the aged guidance of late archon of sumeru. the akedemiya prided itself on its accumulation of knowledge, though it had yet overcame its ostracism of the children of the desert. 

it boiled down to conflicting views of the source of knowledge and whom it ultimately belonged too, but those like dehya hardly cared little of the dispute. it was old news kept relevant but elders who needed to let the new generation decide the future.

ultimately, she found interest in your defiance. shared stories among drinks and good company overwriting centuries of bad blood.

you drew the steaming cup warming your palm closer, finding solace in the simple smell of caffeine rather than the taste of it. dehya kept her inquiries limited when you had first requested her company at the portside coffee shop but now her curiosity was brimming as she scrutinized you from across the table.

“we are.”

“so this has something to do with the random quality of life text i got last night?”

the curl of her lips hinted that she already knew the answer, the slow grin widening further when you tossed her a less than impressed scowl. 

“i found someone new.”

the sharp red of her freshly pained nails drummed patiently against the table top as her raised brow encouraged you to get on with it. 

with a huff, you opted to just get it all out. 

“i met a guy at a bar who ended up being my soulmate.”

the woman had the courtesy not to laugh outright in your face, but the quiet snicker that escaped through the side of her mouth couldn't hide her amusement. 

“you know i was rooting for you. i thought if anyone could defy the odds it would be you.”

her support, while generous, was one-sided towards your benefit. dehya had her restraints when it came to the exaggerated nonsense spewed by the akademiya on the subject. but she couldn't deny it’s biological merits after discovering her other half in the form of her childhood friend and now girlfriend. 

dunyarzad believed in a more muted rendition of the historic value of soul mates, a hopeless romantic that thrived on the magic of dreams. in a way you both humored the young woman, if only to be plagued with her infectious smile and outlook on life. 

dehya smirked, leaning forward on her elbows. the flaky croissant you had purchased as a show of gratitude forgotten. “so you go out with a stranger and they rock your world … and now you’re in the same boat as the rest of us."

you stare at her blankly, “it’s not that simple.’’

“it is if you stick by the facts,” she answers smoothly. “so you had one good night, you’re not obligated to marry him. if anything, you're the one hung up over it. why not just leave it as that and move on?”

your body jolts with the instinct to protest, but the weighted gaze she holds over you keeps you rooted until the words seep in. you had hardly delved into the details of the night, but she was reading you like an open book. 

society’s expectations weren't your reality. nor had alhaitham’s surmise given his perplexed but visible patience during your hasty escape. he had made the same discovery as you but didn’t hold you accountable for an explanation. 

instead he gave you the option. 

seek him out or leave it as it was. 

knowing him would be an emotional burden but you had lived this long without encountering him and would eventually outlive the physical reminder. 

dehya drew your attention back by the soft sound of her spoon clinking against the side of her mug.

“you’re my friend, but sometimes you scholars are all the same.”

setting the spoon aside, she leveled you with a look. “once you get a theory planted in your head, anyone outside of it is well out of reason. you all forget that the world is full of theories and opinions and there is so much more to explore if you would be more wiling to accept ones that aren't your own.”

her face softens as she reaches out to fold her palm over yours. 

“you came to me for advice at least, so let me give it. everyone's soulmate situation is unique. your parents for example.” you flinch at the mention, years of memories solidifying the reason you sought out the akademiya. 

dehya's fingers squeeze in reassurance as she continues. “at least hear him out. maybe their theory will compliment yours. and if not, well next time call me to a fight rather than a cup of coffee.”

the thinly veiled joke pulled a tight smile from your lips. 

she was right though. as a scholar you had encouraged a new experience and were left to analyze the variables. the night had been an unexpected outcome but not a failure.

in the end, you liked it; the weightlessness of floating above yourself for a moment; the rush of endorphins that seeped into the still waters. just the memory of it all has you tingling all over, hairs rising in protest. 

despite your misgivings, the reality of it was, what you’d left behind was unfinished business. there was no plausible way for you to just go about your lives without addressing what was discovered. you knew your stance on the matter, but it was equally as important to understand his so that there would be no confusion in the future. 

you managed to finish your coffee before dehya eventually coaxed you out of the shop, muttering about a fresh text from dunyarzad as you parted ways at the entrance. 

the warmth of her encouraging hug still lingered as you plucked the contact card from its perch on your nightstand.

flipping the card, you found a neat scrawl of additional numbers, the intention clear. 

with that in mind, you reached for your phone and typed out a message. 

‘i’d like to talk.’

your thumbs tap against the screen idly, hoping he was awake and wouldn’t keep you waiting. it was a safe assumption that the man was a morning person when the reply was sent a few minutes later. 

‘fine. would you like me to come to you?.’

you thought about alhaitham coming to your flat. 

grand scribe alhaitham who was hardly as inconspicuous in sumeru city. 

soulmate alhaitham who had yet to have his way with you in your bed-

the last thing you needed to think about was either of you coming.

‘no, will you be home in the evening? i can be there.’

his reply was simple.

‘4pm.’

you stared at the text with a writhing feeling in your gut. it definitely needed to happen, a talk like this was better addressed soon than later. but maybe this was too soon. there was no taking the words back now but how hard would it be to just delete them? a simple swipe and tap and they’d be gone. 

you’d avoided alhaitham this long. and if you stayed away from a certain tavern you could continue to do so. he didn’t seem like a man who would put effort into something that lacked fruition. 

exhaling slowly, you tossed the phone away before you made another rash decision. confronting it now would be the smart thing to do. it was the best way to keep yourself from spiralling down a path of the unknown. just because you discovered your soulmate, nothing had changed. 

granted he gave you the best orgasm you’d had so far in your life, it was just that. a night of carnage that had you waking up with nothing but regret. how could anyone chase something so recklessly because they felt that the archons put their stars too close together?

yes, tackling this now would let you set the record straight. you didn't want a marriage proposal but that didn't mean— no, you wouldn't speculate or conjure up anything until you got on the same page. alhaitham seemed like a rational person, he likely didn’t believe in soulmates either. a good night in bed got the best of everyone. 

for a long moment, you stood in the noon shadow of your bedroom before eventually returning to the bathroom to finish your routine. as you brushed your teeth and washed your face, you tried hard not to look too close at your reflection again.

picking back up the phone, you craft and send a quick message to kaveh.

‘hope you haven’t fallen into a coma.’

and you hoped you aren't falling into a deeper mess. 

continued in part ii

#alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham imagine #genshin impact imagine #genshin impact x reader #al haitham x reader #al haitham imagine #al haitham fanfic #the wrong draft got uploaded early so sorry for the rough first post enjoy!

[richardlawson]

The End

After a few years away from that particular couch, I started seeing a new therapist at the end of last year. It had been long enough, I sagely determined, after I was felled by a series of really nasty panic attacks—one happened while I was doing a Q&A on stage with some filmmakers. They didn't notice, nor did the audience, nor (most importantly) the publicists. But it was happening. Me contemplating running off stage, into the Soho afternoon. It was a terrible feeling, and eventually feeling terrible starts to be a drag, so I found, after a fair amount of searching, someone new.

He is in his late 50s and has a kind, open comportment. He's much more giving and lean-in-and-nod than my last therapist, a sort of prim and watchful gay guy who retired to Florida. I like this new gay guy, I think. Or, I am warming to him. At first, I thought his platitudes and constant quoting of various people were corny. But I have resisted such sentiment for so long, and lack of sentiment hasn't cured me, so maybe I should try the earnest stuff. He has me meditating for one minute a day. The panic attacks went away.

For a little while, anyway. They've been creeping back, when I least expect them, and when I most do. I am afraid of what I am afraid of, I hate what I hate, I feel increasingly indifferent to what I love. Winter hardens care. Do I like movies anymore? Do I like a play, seen on some chilly Saturday afternoon? Maybe it's just seasonal. Or it's media malaise in a time of such austerity. They're trying to lay off the best people while the worst people watch, safe as houses. They're trying to take the whole thing apart and replace it with nothing. I have worked in my business for 16 years, well over a third of my life, and for the first time it now feels truly dire and terminal and like I need to start making other plans for what to do with the rest of my time here in the waking, working world.

Something I talk about a lot with my therapist is inertia—I use the word constantly. Why can't I just, why can't I just, why can't I just. I know something's in me, latent under my lazy skin, but it never makes its way to the surface. At least not yet.

Which causes panic, this stasis. I am scared of the drugs that might help, and am resistant to other concrete life changes that might make this better. (I like a glass of wine too much; I'm a fan of my vape.) I have tried avoiding things, I have tried not avoiding things.

I guess it's not circumstance, really. I have panic attacks when I'm home at night, Andrew asleep in the other room, me watching some murder show or YouTube video (same thing) and suddenly a feeling hits me, the conviction that a blood clot or some other lurking thing is making its way up my body and that this is my sorry, lonely little nighttime end. Here it is, the moment when I'm carried off, when I disappear, when I slip away into nothing.

My parents just finished a cruise, a lifelong wish fulfilled, in South America, hooking around Cape Horn and then exploring the fjords and inlets of Chile. All the reports were good. They had the best time. I had worried about my mom itching for her work email, about my dad being newly 90 years old and maybe feeling exhausted by all the activity. But it seems they managed well. They saw Patagonian cities, they saw mountains rising out of the sea, they saw the shy, retreating edges of glaciers, so quiet and demure in their dying. My mom sent us pictures and I thought most about the glaciers, those last cracking murmurs of a time before. When I was in Alaska for a wedding, years ago now, we went to a park of some kind and the visitor's center that was once built over a glacier then stood cantilevered over dry land. The ice had crept much farther up the mountain, winking goodbye.

How awful. And yet, in the depths of my hypocrisy, I relish an unseasonably warm day. Whatever lifts me out of winter, I guess. Whatever can drag me out of the feeling that everything is indeed going to ruin—a career, a life, a liver, a future. My best friend moved out of my neighborhood recently, which is sad. But it also affords us the opportunity to explore new territory, to find backyard bars with good deals where we can huddle in forgiving late-winter winds and make uneasy escape plans, where we consider what parachutes could ever be made of.

It's not always enough, of course. I too often have nights, far too late, when I go pacing around the living room, circling the coffee table in a weird sort of marching step in my underwear, shaking my hands to get the dread to go away. My new therapist has urged me to find what centers me. To think of all that is known and steady.

I try to gather myself and remember the people I have, arrayed across the planet. Andrew, in restless sleep down the hall. My sister in her Los Angeles canyon, surrounded by trees. I walk the room, knees high and somehow defiant, chest straining with worry. And I see my parents, on a boat at the tip of the world, dreaming of lost things.

[fixing-bad-posts]

I looked around and didn't see anything about this on your blog but I apologize if I missed it.

I was wondering, what does doing the work behind this blog...feel like? I guess what I'm asking is if it does anything to you. Like, I had a thought. For a flash, I imagined you as Butters from South Park in that episode where he is tasked with filtering out all the negative comments on Cartman's social media. It ended up really messing with Butters, what with him having to see all that negativity.

You're definitely not being affected to that extreme, I assume, but I wonder if you would have anything to say about the process of finding these negative posts and reading them several times to edit them. Has it exposed you to unpleasantness that you wouldn't have otherwise seen? Or is there perhaps a kind of catharsis in editing such filth?

I'm making a lot of assumptions here. Maybe I'm also asking about your process. I just think what you're doing is neat and would love to hear about your experience with it.

Thanks for reading and I hope you have plenty of reasons to feel joy <3

oh boy, i love talking about myself haha—so thank you for giving me an excuse to do so! i have answered similar questions in the past, though never at length. every once in a while, someone pops into the inbox to ask about my mental health (which, rest assured, is just fine—i don’t put this blog’s operation above anything; it’s honestly pretty low on my list of life-priorities), and it’s always quite sweet. having a mob of strangers following one’s sideblog has its perks: one being that sometimes parasociality results in some well wishes, kind thoughts, and general goodwill. which is very nice, and probably an unearned vanity-boost for my ego.

what does the work behind this blog feel like? in turns: mundane, challenging, vindicating, annoying, amusing… and probably other things that i’m forgetting. most of the work i do on this blog is actually me procrastinating! i am a certified adult with a job™, and i’m definitely guilty of slacking off at work sometimes to queue posts submissions from my inbox, which is more fun than like… proofreading financial documents and making spreadsheets. other times, i’m sitting in a café with my partner, and allegedly i’m “writing” fanfiction. but, uh, if you know any writers, you know that sometimes “writing” means, ‘looking at a blinking cursor’. so it’s in those moments that i open up tumblr and start writing image descriptions and adding tags to prep posts for my queue. that’s mainly when the blog feels mundane.

something that i think helps me avoid negative doomscroll-spirals is that i don’t actively seek out bad posts for this blog. being a citizen of the internet delivers fodder to me naturally. that, and running a semi-popular sideblog on tumblr. when i see a bad post in the wild, that’s when the feeling is annoying/challenging. challenging, because ever since starting this sideblog, hateful posts don’t feel as vicious to me. once i see them, they stop being posts and turn into word-puzzles. and i love word puzzles!

solving the word puzzle is amusing for me, as is getting to look at my resulting “blackout poem.” it makes me laugh, it stretches my brain. when i started, i used to have to read a post several times to find the ‘good post within the bad post’ so to speak. these days, i’m so used to it, i barely read the bad posts more than a handful of times. but as i was saying to my partner, one of the reasons i love found poetry (erasure poetry, and cut-up poetry) is that it uses the same part of my brain that loves scrabble (the board game). then, of course, it's vindicating to see my posts get so many notes, sometimes surpassing the original bad post. that's more of my own vanity, i'm sure.

as for the last part of your message: yes, i have plenty of reasons to feel joy. i work with people who respect me, i live walking distance from a bubble tea café, and have friends and family whom i love. i have the good fortune to be safely out as a queer person. i’m a fanbinder. i’m currently working on a long fanfiction which is getting some very nice comments on ao3. and i’ve recently decided to become a poet (like, for real).

i must admit, i’m fascinated by how you imagine me. i often wonder how i am perceived, especially because i keep many cards close to my chest here on my sideblog.

anyhow, thank you for this excuse to ramble about myself and the process of running this blog. i hope you also have plenty of reasons to feel joy 💛

#what are your headcanons about me i'm so curious #ask fbp #ittybittykittyfingers

[sapphire-weapon]

Alright. It's time. It's time we talk about the dining hall dialogue.

But before we do that, we first need to talk about the "running from creeps" dialogue, because they're connected.

Leon: You did well back there. (coyly) Seems this isn't your first time running from creeps. Ashley: (genuinely confused and hesitant) ... I can't tell if that's meant to be a compliment. Leon: ...

I've seen a lot of people utterly baffled by Leon's line of dialogue here -- even moreso than Ashley herself is. If you're one of those people who was stumped by this and you don't know what it was supposed to mean, let me explain:

Leon's line of dialogue here is a joke told by the developers/writers to the audience. The punchline is: "Leon is really bad at talking to women."

It was meant to be a compliment, but it didn't come out that way. He was trying to hit on her; you can tell from the deep-voiced, coy tone that Nick used to deliver the line. But it failed spectacularly -- so much so that, when Ashley tells him that she has no idea what he's trying to say, he just shuts up and doesn't bother to explain himself.

But if you tease it out a little bit more, you'll be able to see it more clearly.

"Seems this isn't your first time running from creeps" -- the implication there is that Ashley has caught the eye of creeps before -- particularly creepy men. The implication from that is that she's had a lot of creepy men hitting on her. The implication from that is that there's something about her that would attract that kind of attention in the first place.

What Leon was going for was: "I was impressed by how well you were able to avoid being seen by the enemy. But I guess it makes sense, since you've probably had to sneak away from creeps hitting on you a lot, considering how fucking hot you are."

But that's not what came out of his mouth. He tried to go for a more subtle approach, and he botched it completely -- and there was no way for him to explain himself when Ashley failed to catch his meaning, because any explanation he could possibly give would come off as vulgar and... well. Creepy. So he just shut his mouth and said nothing more.

The intention from the writers was for us to feel either a sense of second-hand embarrassment or of schadenfreude towards Leon in this moment, depending on what kind of personality you are, because wow. Wow. That was a terrible attempt at being charming, and now he looks like a total chud.

So now, let's come back to the dining hall dialogue.

Ashley: So, uh, you do a lot of missions like this? Leon: Well, yeah. But I'm not used to having such good company. Ashley: (breathless with excitement) ... Is that a... compliment? Leon: (lets out a self-satisfied "heh") Take it however you want.

Taken on its own and in a vacuum, you might be able to make the argument that he's just being nice -- that he enjoys her company because she's pleasant to be around, and it goes no further.

Even then, I'd probably say that that's ridiculous, because for him to just come out of nowhere with a line like that is not consistent with any version of Leon to have ever existed in any title -- excepting, of course, in instances where he's trying to get laid. (Chris is the only blockhead in the RE universe to hand out compliments like this and genuinely mean nothing by it and then not get it when people think he's hitting on them, but that's an entirely different point to be made.)

But for the sake of argument, let's just say that this is a normal thing for him to have said.

The thing is, this dialogue does not exist in a vacuum. It is a direct callback to the "running from creeps" exchange -- and we know that it's an intentional and direct callback due to Ashley's reaction and the re-use of the word "compliment" asked as a question.

This is Leon's moment of redemption.

This time, it's not that Ashley genuinely can't tell whether it's a compliment or not. Of course she can tell it's a compliment. Leon just told her explicitly that he enjoys having her around more than he enjoys most other people. She's not stupid.

What she's questioning this time is whether it's a compliment or if it's a... compliment.

She's asking the same question in her head that's being debated in fandom: Is he hitting on her, or is he just being nice? And the very thought that he could be hitting on her makes her breathless with excitement.

And Leon is also not stupid. (OG RE4 Leon's dialogue aside, I mean. THIS IS NO RITUAL IT'S TERRORISM) And he also knows that Ashley's not stupid. He knows exactly what she's asking him.

And instead of shutting it down or making sure she doesn't get the "wrong idea," he lets out a self-satisfied little "heh" (just so that the writers can convey to the audience that he's feeling smug, because it's in-game dialogue and they can't show Leon smirking outwardly) and responds with the sexually-charged tease of "Take it however you want." (Ashley should've responded back to him with "Give it to me, then." That's how pornos start.)

Because she doesn't have the wrong idea. She's not jumping to conclusions. She took it exactly how he meant it -- but he can't say that openly due to their current circumstances. So he leaves it as more of a "Well, I'm not not saying that."

And in order to reinforce the romantic/sexual nature of this exchange, the writers put in a lot of meta symbolism and imagery surrounding it, as well.

This happens specifically and only in the dining hall. Well, what's special about the dining hall?

I mean, I shouldn't have to explain that the scenery of a candlelit dinner is romantic -- but that's not all there is.

It's a completely red room, with red walls and red rugs over red carpeting. It is the only room not just in the castle -- but the entire game -- that looks like that. Red, of course, is the color of romance and passion. In some cases, psychologists have actually found it to cause people's heart rates to rise as an unconscious response.

It's also the room where you get the snake part of the chimera.

Going all the way back to biblical times, snakes have been a symbol of temptation and lust. In some cultures, they were even associated with fertility.

But wait -- there's more.

The puzzle that leads you to getting the snake involves literally filling the seats of and taking the roles of a king and queen.

Ashley has already been referred to as a "princess" and Leon as her "gallant knight" -- and yet, in the armor room (where you get the lion), Leon rejects the offer of filling the role of the knight when Ashley suggests he puts the armor on. But here? In the dining hall? He is the king to her queen. They're bonded together as equally important parts of the same puzzle via a fantasy marriage.

But we're not done yet.

What should I find waiting in this room just beside the entrance? Why, it's our old friend the bridal bouquet.

We've seen this before, haven't we? It was prominently featured in another scene that was very heavily romance-coded with its lighting, cinematography, imagery, and symbolism.

And one more thing. This one I found really interesting.

When Leon is on his "throne" what's sitting in his direct line of sight is a taxidermy eagle (and, of course, Ashley is "baby eagle"). And not only that, but there's also a bust of what appears to be William Shakespeare on display.

When Ashley is seated on her "throne" she also has a bust of Shakespeare across from her.

And what's significant about Shakespeare isn't just that, well. He's Shakespeare.

It's the fact that this puzzle leads directly into a scene that was shot deliberately to mimic/mirror the balcony scene in Romeo & Juliet. (standard, Romantic, fairy tale)

This exchange isn't the only time Leon hits on/flirts with Ashley in RE4make -- but it is the boldest he ever gets about it, and the developers seemed to really, really want to make it as crystal clear as possible that that's what he's doing.

Consider this: This entire sequence was completely different in OG. The puzzle was different. The context of the puzzle was about the journey through life and the inevitability of our own mortality. Ashley wasn't even present for it. The cage that Leon gets caught in has absolutely no deeper symbolic meaning... and then a garrador pops out.

This was completely restructured from the ground up, for a very deliberate purpose.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again: If Ashley had handed Leon a condom and given him the green light to use it, he would've fucked her right there on the dining room table.

Because, in the context of RE4make, eagleone is canon.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #eagleone #meta analysis

[hxney-lemcn]

Dedicated To The One I Love — Connor x gn! reader

summery: A series of events that that reader and Connor share (a bunch of my daydreams put together somewhat poorly)

tw: Connor breaks in and reader freaks out (that one scene with Hank), mentions of alcoholism, mentions of death.

a/n: I'm not super proud of this but it's better than nothing I guess.

wc: 3.1k

Master List

Change is universal, inevitable. No matter how hard you try to push it away, to forget, change will always follow. Change can be slow, barely noticeable until you peer into hindsight. But it can also be fast, like a predator pouncing on its prey. 

We all experience change. From the clothes we choose to wear, to a star blinking out of existence. Growing up, my life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t perfect either. I’ve experienced relative poverty, but also having unwavering support from family. I’ve experienced my mom choosing to nurse bottles of beer night after night, but I also witnessed her becoming sober. 

Change will happen. There is no stopping it, no matter how hard humans try. But it’s people's choices that decide what that change will become. Whether it’s a good or bad change, or possibly something that doesn’t fit in that binary. My mother has made many bad choices, but it was an opportunity to make me a better person. Showing me what not to do to better myself. 

But change will rock your boat. Like how my mom died suddenly, and I was put under the care of my estranged uncle. I suppose estranged is the wrong word. My mom and him were close. Until Uncle Hank lost his son. We tried to help, offer him support, but he pushed us away and turned to the bottle like my mother once did. So being under his care was like reliving those painful memories once more. 

This night seemed to be particularly bad. In my last year of college, I was exhausted half the time. Trying to find a job, an internship, something to help get me out of what’s become a hell hole to me. I didn’t blame Uncle Hank, I can’t imagine losing a child. Yes I lost my mom, but her death was more of just a bitter feeling. I stopped caring for her when I believed she chose her addictions over me, and when she died I was just learning to love her again. 

I was just on my phone, scrolling through social media before I turned in for the night. I felt myself calm when Uncle Hanks drunken shouts died down. I tried to ignore the sudden thud that soon followed, he probably passed out somewhere. I felt bad that I would avoid him, sober or not. But I don’t think I can handle looking him in the face. 

About twenty minutes later, the doorbell rang, making me jump out of my skin at the abrupt sound. My heartrate picked up, wondering who could be visiting us at night? I heard a muffled shout, barely making out what he was saying, I heard the work title of my uncle. I let out a sigh, getting slightly irritated as the person held the buzzer down for a ridiculously long time. I just turned back to my phone, maybe if no one answered he’d realize it was a lost cause? Was it someone from Uncle Hanks' work? Someone who was unhappy with his work? Rolling my eyes at the thought, I wondered who wouldn’t be unhappy with his work. Things seemed to be peaceful once more. Well until the sound of a window breaking made my heart leap to my throat. My heart hammered as I heard the same voice try to soothe Sumo. I stared at my phone. This is when I call emergency services right? 

I felt frozen as I heard the intruder shuffle and try to wake your uncle. Taking a deep breath, I dialed 911 and pressed the green call button before I could back down. Who knows what crazy person is in my house right now. 

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“There’s someone in my house,” I whispered, blood rushing past my ears. I slowly got off my bed, looking for a place to hide, but wasn’t overly cliche. 

“Do you know who it is?”

“No,” I replied. “They seem to know my uncle, Hank Anderson.”

“Are you and your uncle in a safe place?”

“I’m in my room,” I muttered, heart dropping as footsteps got closer to where I was. My eyes landed on my doorknob and I felt sick when I realized I didn’t even lock the fucking thing. “They’re coming-”

“Police are on the way,” The dispatcher alerted. “Please stay on the line, where’s your uncle?”

I quickly scurried under the bed, my breathing becoming erratic both from the small space of the underside of my bed, to how the footsteps stopped in front of my door. 

“Strange,” The voice muttered, muffled behind my door. “It says the call is coming from this room.”

“Where is your uncle?” The dispatcher kept repeating but I quickly hung up. He knew, he knew I was calling 911. He knew where I was. My eyes shut tight, small desperate tears falling down my face when the door opened slowly. The squeak of the door made my heart pump faster in anticipation. 

“Hello?” The man called out. I bit my lip, trying to stay as quiet as possible. “My name is Connor. Android sent by Cyberlife to assist with Lieutenant Anderson’s latest case. I apologize for scaring you.” 

Opening my eyes hesitantly, I couldn’t stop the scream that escaped me as our eyes met. Jump scare much? I scrambled out from under the bed, the claustrophobia finally getting the better of me. I leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths before finally getting a look at the intruder, only for my breath to be taken away once more due to the beauty of the man, or I suppose android, that stood in front of me. 

It wasn’t the best meeting of my uncles companion. Quite embarrassing actually. Especially when the next morning, he was sitting in the living room. I couldn’t help the double take I did, wondering if I should go back to my room or not. 

“Good morning,” Connor greeted before I could do anything. 

“Uh, good morning,” I greeted back, not sure what to do. I was somewhat confused. My uncle hated androids, so knowing he was working with one, no less letting one stay in his house, made me very confused. But instead of commenting on anything, I went to the kitchen. I decided to get myself something to drink, an excuse for leaving my room. I was too tired for this and I had to get ready for class. 

Begrudgingly, I sat down on the couch, hoping he wouldn’t start incessant small talk. I didn’t hate androids, quite the opposite actually. I found them very interesting. I wanted to know how they worked, what their programming looked like, how they managed to replicate the human body so well. Since I grew up somewhat poor, we never owned an android, not that I fully agreed with owning something that seemed so human anyways. So my interactions were limited. It never failed to amaze me how lifelike androids were, and Connor seemed to take the cake. 

His fingers tapped against his thigh, his gaze elsewhere. He looked so human, acted so human, the only reminder of him being an android was the spinning blue led on his temple. I wonder what he was thinking about, what he saw. 

“I apologize for scaring you,” Connor spoke up, brown eyes meeting mine. I looked away, the eye contact making me uncomfortable.

I couldn’t help the awkward smile that fell on my lips, “You’re still on that? Its okay, I probably should’ve answered the door anyways.”

“I should’ve done more research on Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor rebuttled. “I would’ve changed my approach if I knew he was housing another person.” I glanced at him and I couldn’t stop the genuine smile, his eyes held an innocence that made me completely forgive him for the absolute heart attack he put me through yesterday. 

“It’s kinda funny now that I think about it,” I chuckled lightly. 

Connor’s brows furrowed lightly, confusion splayed across his features, “How so?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but paused, not exactly sure how to explain it, “I guess cus the situation was so absurd? It’s not everyday you become an acquaintance of someone you called the cops on.” 

His led spun blue again, clearly thinking over my words, “I’m not sure I fully understand.”

I took a sip of my drink, not sure how I could make him understand, “I’m sorry, I’m not the best at explaining things.”

“It’s okay,” He replied, “Perhaps I will understand in the future.”

Checking the time, my eyes widened, wondering where all the time went. 

“Shoot,” I muttered, standing up quickly and rushing to my room. I got dressed as quick as I could before grabbing my bag. “Bye Connor,” I waved to him on my way out. His departing words faint as I was already trekking to my car. 

Soon, Connor became a comforting presence in the mornings. Once, I used to like getting ready alone, no one to bother me or make me cranky. But now…it was nice with Connor being there. In fact, I kinda looked forward to it. 

“Hm?” I hummed out confused as Connor placed toast in front of me on the coffee table. I looked up at him confused. 

“It is recommended for humans to eat a balanced meal in the morning,” Connor explained. “Unfortunately, I was unable to make anything but toast.”

I blinked, and suddenly I felt myself melt at the action. I smiled sheepishly, taking a slice, “Thank you Connor. This was nice of you.”

Every day Connor seemed to do something that would make my heart beat a little bit faster. I knew it was stupid. He was an android, he couldn’t feel, he didn’t care, he was only there to hunt deviants. 

So why did he slightly smile when I told the lamest joke in the world? Why did he scold me when I didn’t take care of myself? Why did I catch his stare lingering, or how he’d come to me with questions that others refused to answer? 

“I still don’t think our meeting is funny,” Connor said randomly one morning. I was currently house hunting. Having a steady income was a nice change of pace and I was excited to finally get a place of my own. 

I glanced up at him, “Oh?” 

Its been a few years since I met Connor and so much has changed. For one, androids had their freedom. Two, Connor ended up being my best friend, as he’d confide in me and I him. I had found a well paying job and things were finally looking up.

“In fact, I feel guilty when I think about it,” Connor frowned. His gaze fell on me, his eyes soft and he reminded me of a kicked puppy. “I wish I made a better impression.”

I rolled my eyes, “Connor, if anything, you made quite the impression. And besides, if I was really bothered by it we wouldn’t be friends now would we?”

“But-”

“No buts,” I interrupted. “People make mistakes, it’s apart of life. You grow, learn, and change from them. Besides, why don’t you apologize to uncle Hank about it? He’s the one that was really bothered by it.”

“Th-that’s different,” Connor rebuttled, leaning closer to me.

“How?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“He’s not you,” Connor breathed out. 

There it was again. The common occurrence of my heart skipping a beat. Of my heart melting. Of me falling deeper than I already was. So deep in fact, that I’m not sure if I could crawl out of it anymore. The occurrence of Connor saying something so sickingly sweet that I was surprised my teeth didn’t fall out. Something so hopelessly romantic that I wanted to just confess all these overwhelming feelings. No matter how common this would happen, it would always leave me breathless, and a memory for me to rewind like a broken record. 

I wasn’t sure how to reply, wondering what he meant by that. Did he mean in the way I was currently hoping he did? Or was it just because we were close friends? Was I looking to much into things? Why did Connor seem so desperate in this moment?

Our eyes met intensely. His brown eyes searching deeply within my own. I felt a certain tension fall over the room, or was that just me? 

“Your special to me,” Connor confessed, saying my name in the same breath. “Different than anyone else I’ve met. You’ve cared for me, guided me, make me feel alive.” 

I stared at him with batted breath. I couldn’t believe my own ears. Was he…confessing? Do I…confess my own feelings? Did he understand the weight his words currently held? That he was currently cradling my heart in his hands, and could crush it without even realizing it? His sweet, brown eyes once again seemed to be searching for something. 

“Your special to me too, Connor” I whispered. “I’ve never felt as close to someone as I do you. I love making you laugh, even if my jokes are dog shit, I love seeing you smile, and I’m glad you trust me enough to confide even the smallest things.”

I thought I’d be anxious to confess my feelings outloud, but I felt at peace as his gaze was soft, dare I say adoring. 

“You got to be kidding me,” I heard uncle Hank grumble as he passed by the living room. “You got a room for a reason kid, take the cheesiness elsewhere.” 

I flustered, breaking the intense staredown Connor and I had held. 

Ever since that conversation, I noticed that Connor seemed to be more affectionate. His hand would brush mine more often when he’d hand me something. He’d hug me more often, arms lingering longer than normal. 

“Holy shit,” I grinned, eyes wide in disbelief. I just found a place and managed to buy it. I just had to give the down payment and I could move in right away. 

Energy buzzed through me and I left my room to find Connor. Uncle Hank sat on the couch, his drinking habits have improved significantly. Connor stood a little farther away, hunched over a stove. He’d taken up the hobby of cooking, in fact he would pout when he couldn’t cook me something or if I’d already eaten. 

I beelined towards the handsome android and hugged him from behind, “Guess what?”

“What?” Connor asked, cranning his neck to try and look at me. 

Letting go, I stepped beside him, “I got my own house!”

His smile fell, before retaining a clearly fake smile, “That’s amazing to hear. When do you move?”

“Probably in the next week or so,” I replied, for some reason feeling…guilty. 

His stare didn’t shift from the pan that sat ontop of the stove, his shoulders tense. I fidgeted with my fingers, unsure how to make the situation better. 

“I’m proud,” He muttered, the words sounding forced.

“It’s going to be hard to keep up with my payments,” I said without even thinking. My heart beat faster as I surmised that it was too late to back up now. “It’d be nice to have a roommate to help lighten the load.” 

I stared at the brown haired beauty from the corner of my eye as he seemed to piece together what I was hinting at. His gaze swept over to me and I almost choked at how hopeful he looked. 

“I-I could help,” Connor stuttered excitedly. “I make more than enough at the precinct now…a-and I don’t mind sharing a living space with you.”

He reminded me of a golden retriever with how he always seemed to try and please me. The thought made me swoon. And only made me double my efforts in showing him I cared as well.

“Okay than,” I nodded. “Hopefully uncle Hank won’t mind-”

“Please!” Hank exclaimed. “Get the hell out of my house so I can finally rest in peace.” 

Connor and I looked at each other before falling into a fit of laughter. 

“I suppose that answers that question,” I teased with a grin. “Better start packing mister, we’ve got a house to start decorating.” 

The sound of sizzling grew louder and Connor tried to save the meal he was making. Apologizing when it was burnt. 

I let out an exasperated sigh, trudging up to Connor who stared at me concerned from the couch. I laid down, resting my head on his lap, frowning in frustration. Today was just a bad day and I wanted to cling to the one comfort I found consistent. 

Connor didn’t hesitate to run his hand through my hair, soothing my touch starved self. I didn’t even realize I let out a hum of content at the contact. It was nice to share a space with Connor, not having to worry about uncle Hank walking around and making teasing comments. 

“I got you a surprise…” Connor trailed off, his nails scratching my scalp in a pleasing manner. 

“Is it a bad surprise?” I asked, wondering if he was buttering me up right now. 

“I think you’d enjoy it,” He hummed. I opened my eyes and met his loving gaze. 

“Do we have to get up?” I grumbled. 

His smile was so soft, I just wanted to lean up and kiss him. 

“I assure you it will be worth it.”

I froze when I heard a bark. I stared up at Connor in shock and he just gave me a smug grin. I scrambled up, running towards his room where the bark came from. I opened the door without second thought and a puppy barelled towards me, jumping up to meet me. A kitten trailed not too far behind, exploring the world around it. 

A giddy smile rested on my face as I sat on the ground and pet the puppy. Connor joined me, petting the kitten that sniffed at him curiously. When my gaze met Connor’s, my heart stuttered as he was already staring at me with that goofy grin of his. I lept at him, embracing him but also making us fall down, startling our pets. I squeezed him as tightly as I could, and he held me firmly as well. 

“I love you so much,” I confessed without even thinking. I froze, turning ridged in his hold. I tried to pull away but Connor only held me tighter. 

“I…love you too,” He breathed out, nuzzling his face into the side of my neck. 

Change will always happen. Where androids were once seen as emotionless slaves, they turned out to be complex beings, seeming more human than actual humans. When you thought that you’d never be close to an android, you ended up loving one. Things won’t always be perfect, as mistakes are a step of change, but as long as the intentions behind your choices are good, good is likely to follow. And you couldn’t be happier with the choices you made that led to this moment.

#connor dbh x reader #dbh connor x reader #rk800 x reader #rk800 connor x reader #detroit become human #dbh #dbh x reader #detroit become human x reader

[maniculum]

Bestiaryposting Results: Mlekragg

Unsurprisingly, multiple people read the entry and immediately clocked what this was. (Thank you for not actually making a guess in text, so that people who don't recognize it are able to work without that preconception.) I didn't want to leave it out, because the mythological ones are fun, but unlike some of the others, the modern conception of this beast is pretty much exactly what the bestiary says.

Anyway, as always, if you don't know what I'm talking about, you can find an explanation for this whole thing at https://maniculum.tumblr.com/bestiaryposting. If you want to join in, the new entry for each week is tagged with "maniculum bestiaryposting" so it should be findable. This week's entry can be reviewed here:

Below the cut you will find the drawings responding to it, in roughly chronological order:

@silverhart-makes-art (link to post here) decided to branch out in an unusual direction with this one, in order to avoid drawing the creature they'd identified from the entry and also have some fun with it. I just think this is some quality creature design. Love the mask-thing, love the springy tail, and that's a really good rendering of a cuttlefish face IMHO. There's a really interesting explanation for all of these features, what inspired them and how it all works together, in the linked post, which you should go read.

@moonygryffin (link to post here) took a more direct approach, with the twist that the creature here is modeled on American fauna rather than ones the medieval Europeans would have been aware of. The body is a mountain lion, and the man-like head is a golden-headed lion tamarin, which of course comes with its own mane. I enjoy the choice to not use a lion lion, but rather two animals with "lion" in their name; also I've always thought lion tamarins were very cool-looking. For more details -- and an example of an attempt by MoonyGryffin to draw the same creature several years ago -- see the linked post. (Also thank you for providing alt text.)

@sweetlyfez (link to post here) has made an attempt to take the entry literally without drawing the creature she has recognized, which is a challenge considering how specific the description is. I think the decision to give it flea legs to help with that exceptional jumping is clever. SweetlyFez describes the result as an "awful creature" and... honestly I can't argue, I wouldn't want to be anywhere near one of these. In fact I think I'm going to wrap up this commentary and scroll down so I don't keep making eye contact with it.

@pomrania has also decided to go the route of "let's get weird with it", and avoided the literal interpretation by re-analyzing the word "has". This is similar to that style of joke one hears now and then -- you know, "he has the heart of a poet... he keeps it in a jar at home." (Incidentally, props to Mary Shelley for being perhaps the only person who could make that claim and not be kidding.) So this creature has the face of a man and the body of a lion, not in the sense that it was born with them, but in the sense that it keeps them as possessions. Very clever, and the underlying creature design is also fantastically creepy in my opinion.

@coolest-capybara (link to post here) mentions that she didn't recognize the description, and has given us this really cool-looking, rather menacing creature in their excellent medieval style. (This is why I insist on not naming the beasts even when it seems clear what it is -- this amazing piece of art might have looked entirely different if someone posted a spoiler.) I'm really struck by how it simultaneously looks like a patchwork sort of creature (different front & back legs, etc.) but all flows together into a cohesive whole. Just really well done, I think. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@cheapsweets (link to post here) has drawn the creature mid-leap, showing off its jumping prowess by shooting straight up into the air. I think this drawing does a very good job at combining human and lion anatomy to make something unsettling -- and the inclusion of the skull diagram up in the top left points to the amount of thought that went into this. As always, please check out the linked post for a detailed discussion of the design. (Also, thank you for including alt text.)

@strixcattus (link to post here) has drawn one that's oddly cute, and looks a bit worried. However, according to the description they've written in the linked post, this reaction on my part is probably going to get me killed, because apparently they're still quite vicious. I like it, though -- and, as always, I urge you to go read the linked post for this one.

On to the Aberdeen Bestiary... oh, we can't, actually. This is another missing page. So here's the illustration from the Ashmole Bestiary instead:

So, first of all, this is indeed the manticore, and I'm sure most if not all of the people who said they had guessed it got that correct.

Second, we can also note that all the artists who said something along the lines of "well we know about the issues of drawing medieval scorpions, so the scorpion-tail description doesn't need to be literal" were also correct there. Apparently this time a scorpion tail is just spiky all over, which I have to admit does look kinda cool.

Now let's address the elephant in the room. WHAT is that thing on its HEAD? My best guess is that it's meant to be a crown -- medieval art often sticks hats on nonhuman creatures with human faces, almost as if the artist wants to make sure you know it looks like a human head on purpose. I don't see crowns that often, though; usually it's just a cloth hat. (The one in Bodley MS 764, where I got the text for this entry, is clearly wearing a Phrygian cap.) I find myself unable to see it as anything but a daring hairstyle that is absolutely not working for it, though.

Anyway. The manticore is an odd one in its continuity here -- a lot of the mythical creatures in the bestiary have been changed, reinterpreted, or forgotten in the intervening centuries. I think maybe the manticore happens to have hit that sweet spot where it's popular enough that people remember it, but not so popular that it gets excessively telephoned through widespread transmission. I think a couple people noted that the Standard Fantasy manticore is more or less spot on to this description, and indeed, I can only think of one change:

(Art from the Magic: the Gathering card "Crimson Manticore", artist Daniel Gelon)

At some point, those bastards got wings. It's not universal at this time, but if you do an image search for "manticore", the majority of the modern ones are winged. I'm not really sure where that came from.

(Side note: I tested this by doing a Google image search, and one of the top results was a particularly odd-looking image, so I clicked on it out of curiosity. It was at the top of an... article? on a webpage I'd never heard of, and the opening of said article included the sentence, "In medieval bestiaries and art, the manticore was depicted with unique features such as paws, teeth, and fur." You don't say there, bud.)

Interestingly, the D&D manticore is slightly different from the description in an additional way.

Instead of a scorpion tail, it has a tail covered in spines. This has apparently been part of the D&D manticore since the beginning -- the above image is from 2e, but the 1e version had the same tail. (I just didn't use it because it's not as clear in the picture.)

Now, scroll back up to that Ashmole Bestiary image. The one where the tail doesn't really look anything like a scorpion's. Looks... similar to this in broad concept.

I doubt that Gygax or Arneson or whoever designed that aspect of their manticore after one bestiary image, so I popped over to bestiary.ca to see what else was out there. Out of the 38 medieval manticore images collected on that website, there are only two with a tail covered in spikes: the Ashmole manticore and one other that's clearly just a less-skilled artist working from the same image (it also has the same hat). Looking at the text sources, though:

"...it has a tail like a land scorpion, in which there is a sting; it darts forth the spines with which it is covered instead of hair..." -- Aristotle, De animalibus

"To the end of its tail is attached the sting of a scorpion, and this might be over a cubit in length; and the tail has stings at intervals on either side." -- Aelianus, On the Characteristics of Animals

Okay, that's the D&D version, mystery solved. New question: is it a coincidence that the Ashmole illustration fits Aelianus's description? Remember, the page is missing from the Aberdeen bestiary and the Ashmole bestiary isn't translated. The text comes from Bodley MS 764, which does not have a spiky-tailed manticore. My Latin is terrible and I'm untrained in palaeography, so I can't tell whether the entry there preserves the spiky description.

If any palaeographers out there want to solve this one for me, it's Bodleian MS Ashmole 1511, f.22v-23r, available digitally here. (I'll put some screenshots below, but I expect it's easier to zoom properly on the library's digitized manuscript.)

Okay, that's all I've got. Enjoy your week everyone.

#maniculum bestiaryposting #mlekragg

[chrisevansonly]

Miscommunication

Chris Evans x Female Reader

Summary: You rarely argue, hating confrontation you tend to avoid it at all costs, but when a miscommunication happens and you overhear something with no context, tensions bubble over and you’re stuck in your least favourite spot

Warnings: angst, body insecurities, miscommunication, yelling, swearing, slight mention of eating disorder/food insecurity, happy ending<3

A/N: I love a good angst to happy ending, and I decided to give a lil argument a go, I really need to try and get more confident in my writing because I constantly feel like its horrible hahaha, anyway being a mid size gal who has lost a lot of weight, I wanted to write something to include the girls who aren’t thin, and who do have a belly, thicker thighs, because sometimes bigger girls are left out. There is nothing wrong with your bodies, no matter what size you are from a 00-20+ you’re beautiful and you deserve to be loved and accepted for you<3

Word Count: 1,257

 Being a girl who’s a little on the bigger side, well I guess midsize would be the term everyone’s using these days, you’d often have good and bad days, that was just a part of the journey to self-love and to becoming more confident in your own skin. You were a confident woman, owning your body, wearing what you loved to wear, and you also happened to have a boyfriend who loved you unconditionally, and was your biggest hype man. Reminding you every day how much he loved you, from leaving sticky notes on the mirrors in the house with reminders or little quotes of motivation. If you had a bad day with eating, he’d be right beside you, making small snacks and eating with you, to encouraging and celebrating your little accomplishments with every meal. Chris was truly your number one fan, and always made sure he supported you in any way he possible could, so it certainly surprised you when you accidentally overheard a conversation you felt wasn’t meant to be heard 

“there’s no way she’s going to fit into that…are you kidding me?”

“I mean if only there was a way that would even work.”

“No, it’ll look horrible…”

“I don’t even want to picture her wearing that.”

You didn’t listen in much after that because despite not knowing who or what he was talking about, your brain immediately went to flight mode, and you were in your shared bedroom within seconds. You felt disgusted with yourself, to think Chris would be talking about you like that to someone else, it made your stomach churn, the urge to get rid of everything you’d had to eat that day surfacing up. You didn’t even want to look at yourself in the mirror, taking down all those stupid sticky notes he put on them, because as far as you knew, it was all a lie now anyway. You let yourself sulk for some of the afternoon before going down to the kitchen to get a glass of water, your stomach rumbling quietly but your appetite long gone. Chris was looking through the fridge no doubt searching for something to whip together for lunch 

“Hey baby, you getting hungry?”

You shook your head grabbing a glass from the cupboard in front of you 

“No thanks”

He watched you silently for a few moments as you got your water, his eyes trained on you, the feeling of him staring pausing your movements while you looked at him

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just you haven’t eaten since breakfast…are you sure you aren’t hungry?”

So now suddenly he cares if you’re hungry or not?

“Why do you care if I’m hungry or not.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

You rolled your eyes not wanting to start a huge fight or argument but before you could leave the kitchen, he grabbed a hold of your elbow gently 

“Honey what the hell is going on?”

“You of all people should know Chris.” 

He furrowed his brows, and you could tell he was wracking his brain trying to figure out what the problem could be 

“Well, I clearly don’t, so If you could enlighten me as to why you’re so angry that would be great.”

“Figure it out.” 

You turned and went towards your bedroom again, Chris hot on your heels

“We aren’t fucking playing this game y/n, I’m not chasing after you trying to figure out why you’re upset, so quit running away and talk to me!”

“I heard you on goddamn phone this morning okay!”

He shook his head his hand coming up to rub his face gently 

“Okay? What’s wrong with me being on the phone…am I not allowed to do that?”

“It’s not the phone, it’s what you said! There’s no way she’s going to fit in that, I don’t even want to picture her wearing that, it’ll look horrible! It doesn’t take a fucking genius to figure out that conversation was about me Chris! I get it, I’m not some stick thin vogue model, I don’t fit into everything, I fucking get that. I would have n-never guessed you of all p-people would point that out to someone over the phone.” 

His expression dropped instantly, and he moved toward you to take your hands in his but you stepped back 

“I get it okay, I’m gross to look at, embarrassing to be around, I already knew a-all of that, I thought i-it didn’t bother you, apparently I was wrong.”

When the tears started to fall down your cheeks, Chris was quick to pull you to him, holding you as if you were going to disappear before his eyes, your body shaking against him as your thoughts ran rampant 

“Oh baby…. I’m so sorry, honey this whole thing is a miscommunication, I wasn’t saying anything bad about you, I would never, but I know why you’d think that I should have worded it differently”

You sniffled against the fabric of his sweater, not moving from his embrace, your silence allowing him to continue 

“I was having something special designed for you, and the company got your size wrong, and I was frustrated because I had told them hundreds of times, I was upset because I knew it would make you uncomfortable and wouldn’t highlight how beautiful you are, but I guess my choice in words were shit. I promise you baby I love you and your body so much, there is nothing horrible about you, there is nothing embarrassing about you. I am so fucking fortunate to get to love all of you every day, flaws and all, even though you’re absolutely perfect in my eyes.”

He pulled back slightly so he could take your face in his hands, a sad smile tugging at his lips while his thumbs wiped away your tears 

“You are everything to me and more pretty girl, I promise you, there is nothing in this world that can convince me you aren’t endgame for me, I love you with everything in me, and I need you to know how beautiful you are to me.”

“I’m s-sorry...”

He shook his head pressing a gentle kiss to your lips 

“You don’t need to say sorry honey, I should have made my intentions more clear on the phone, that’s my fault”

You moved back to rest your head against his chest, and he rubbed his hands up and down your back soothingly, calming you down

“I love you so much, I want you to know that you are perfect just the way you are. Always.”

“I love you too, I’m sorry I jumped to the worst conclusion”

Chris tightened his hold on you hating the fact that he made you feel this way 

“You don’t need to apologize to me baby, I promise…now can I make you some lunch to make up for this?”

Your stomach growling in response made him chuckle quietly, giving him the answer, he needed

“So, lunch and then I need to make some updated sticky notes…seems like some have gone missing.”

Chris stuck to his word, making the two of you some food before sitting down and eating it with you, before grabbing his sticky note pads and writing little reminders on them to stick to the mirrors in your bedroom again. A constant note that would continue to let you know just how much he loved you and everything you offered him, because at the end of the day, you were perfect for him, just like he was for you. 

#chrisevans #chrisevansxreader #rueswrites #chris evans x midsizereader #chris evans x you #chris evans imagines #chris evans fic #chris evans x girlfriend!reader #chris evans x fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x wife!reader

[quitealotofsodapop]

Thinking about a scenario where the Ink Demon/Ink MK/Curse the gang encounters in S4 accidentally forms an outer conscieness.

I feel like it gains sentience partially from MK refering to the Curse as a being separate from the Scroll - and not solely as a tool created to torment it's prisoners. Almost like a magic artifical intelligence.

I could see MK finding a way to contact the demon, mostly to gain greater insight on things he's mentally avoiding. Like by writing with an enchanted ink set, or with the ink left behind by the Curse's rampage.

MK, putting ink brush to paper: "Hi?" *The ink begins to blob and shape itself into words* Ink Curse, as writing on the paper: "You could have just used a pen, idiot." MK, excitedly writing back: "It's you!!" Ink Curse: "Why do you seem excited? Are you a glutton for punishment?" MK: "So, I know your whole thing is to pick people apart mentally, right?" Ink Curse: "Yes. I was spawned from the ink used to detail the crimes of those written into the scroll of memory. It is my purpose. Like how you were made for-" MK, writing over the response: "Yeah yeah chaos and destruction and stuff I know that part. But like, when I got home... I started thinking about the other stuff and... you seem pretty good at voicing thing people don't want to know about themselves. It almost feels I dunno... catartic almost? (is that how you spell it)? Ink Curse: "It is spelt Cathartic. And If you take any comfort in what I did, then I have failed my purpose. Or you are hopelessly dense." MK: "But thats the thing! I didn't feel comfortable! You dragged me out of my comfort zone and made me think about junk. It's actually helping me a little in coming to terms with... what I am." Ink Curse: *doesn't respond for some time* "You are strange." MK: "I mean, I guess. I'm writing to a demonic ink curse instead of going to an actual therapist. Hope to talk to you again soon Mozhi*!" Newly dubbed "Mozhi": "Excuse me?"

*"Mozhi/Mòzhī/墨汁" - meaning "squid ink" or the ink used in traditional chinese calligraphy.

And since putting a name to something gives its power, "Mozhi" begins to manifest beyond ink and paper. Ink stains and monkey handprints litter the apartment. The magnets on MK's fridge start rearranging into swear words. The menu at Pigsy's shuffles to critique minor flaws in the kitchen. Mei starts recieving scathing texts from an unlisted number. The tv starts glitching in the viewer's insecurities.

Eventually the gang break down MK's door to figure out wtf is going on, only to see an Ink!MK physically pull itself into the 3d world from the Cursed ink. Everyone starts screaming.

Macaque, laughing: "Oh my gods, I know what happened here - I've heard of it happening before in shadow demons. MK gave the ink Curse a name and that gave it power to, quote a little puppet made of pine; become a real boy." Ink Curse/Mozhi, stumbling like a newborn fawn: "Why is my body being pulled down?" Wukong: "It's called gravity, spot. You get used to it." Ink Curse/Mozhi: "You are actively floating." Wukong: "Yeah, doesn't mean I have to like gravity."

In his "physical" form, Mozhi looks like monkey!MK with inky black fur and colder toned skin - his facial marking a smeared grey color with a distinct heart-shaped outline. He reduces to his inky form when physically damaged or when he wants to "hop into" a book or artwork. Dislikes sunlight/heat, it dries him out.

And because he is no longer within MK's head/the scroll, he's a lot less all-knowing. He is however scarily perceptive of others thoughts and fears, and loudly narrates his opinions on things.

Red Son: "Is that a sentient ink curse?" Mozhi, mockingly: "Is that an emotionally-constipated daddy's boy who almost destroyed the world with a toddler temper tantrum, and still refuses to admit that he's more morally righteous than he lets on?" :3 Red Son, flames up: "Oh its on, you glorified Rorshace test!" MK: *sprays water bottle at them* "Down! Both of you! Mozhi, I said no commentating on people's inner thoughts!" Mozhi: "If y'all actually went to theraphy, then there would be nothing for me to talk about."

This also makes Mozhi the best person to roast somebody when the others are too busy/emotional to do so on their own. And since he mirrors the power of the person he's roasting, it gives him Jester's Immunity to damage from angry Celestials.

The Jade Emperor: "Why is there a loose ink demon in my throne room?" Mozhi, giggling manically as he morphs into an ink!Emperor: "Hahahahahaha~ wow. Ruler of all beings, mortal and divine. And you can't even recognise yourself. Disappointing really. Then again, can't expect much from a glorified intern that was gifted the throne and hasn't done much else since." *Vicious Mockery continues for many hours*

Mozhi is however... kinda bad at admiting and recognizing his own feelings? He's never had any before that weren't projections of others. Is this what true sadness feels like, or does he just need to get some sleep? Can come off as cold, even when trying to be geniune. He's just not used to having emotions or empathy yet.

Enjoys fictional works that dive into the concepts of meta-fiction and medium awareness, ex; Deadpool, Bandersnatch, and Doki Doki Literature Club.

#lmk ink mk #lmk the curse #lmk ink demon #lmk aus #lego monkie kid #lmk s4 spoilers #lmk character ideas

[nerves-nebula]

Do you have any loveless/heartless characters? I think they're real neat <3

this post got superrr long lol. im avoiding my homework <3

so this is a complicated ask for me because my definition of "love" is intentionally different from a lot of more mainstream conceptions of it. love isn't a feeling to me, it's something you DO for people you care about, right? you make someone feel loved by doing things that show you care. you putting in that effort and correcting your behavior for their sake is love.

so in that way i don't consider any of my characters loveless. because to me Love is something you chose to do so nobody can really be loveless inherently, they're just choosing not to act loving towards someone.

HOWEVER, from what i've gleamed from a quick google search about loveless aros, it doesn't necessarily seem that being loveless is exclusive to my definition of love?

like, i'm seeing loveless aros talk about not having those kinds of feelings or doubting/opting out of western ideas of love that don't fit them. some talk about not forming that kind of "deep emotional bond" though I'm confused if they mean like.. in general, or just romantically. cuz i've never had a deep romantic bond but i've never really considered that an indictment of Love Itself so much as a type of love that I'm just not a part of.

some people are describing it as specifically romantic love that they know they can't feel. but then again some people are just using it to mean they reject "love" as a label for their emotions/experiences, so like. idk.

it feels like im on the exact same page as a lot of these people it's just that their conclusion was to throw out the word love and mine was to not accept the premise that romantic love is the highest or most important kind of love and focus on, like, other forms of love that are important to me. like my siblings and friends.

soooo i can't say any of them are loveless for sure, cuz i don't identify that way and i'm not sure i grok it yet.

HOWEVER,

I do have aromantic characters, if that's what you mean. though a lot of them are in weird psychosexual situations with each other (just cuz i dont wanna have sex doesnt mean its not fun for my characters to), though there's one or two healthy QPRs thrown in there.

tbh my understanding (or lack thereof) of romance seeps into all of my characters so even the ones who are supposedly in love are doing it with hints of aromanticism cuz like. i dont care what a crush is, yknow? there's only so far romantic tropes can take me before i tap out and just do my own thing.

but as for like canonically aro characters i've got Hondo & quinn, dotty, toasty, Thomas (you guys don't know Thomas yet lol she's a peach), Ezra and Pet (pet is a weird monster tho and Ezra is sort of dead so idk if that counts), Misha Mistaka, Pasiflora, and probably my new one, Benbeck.

I also consider Groe aroace but that's like, a whole thing. cuz Groe is mostly known for having been married to Maureno (one of my characters i explicitly consider allosexual, if not alloromantic) and their relationship takes front and center at every point sfsdf.

because even when i dont see it as romantic i LOVE to make characters lives intertwined and dependent on each other. due to my own personal issues. to be honest i dont think groe and maureno are "in love" i just think they're inextricable dependent on each other. i think their "romance" is an inherently aromantic one because it's not about romantic feelings its about their friendship and trust, which includes kissing and sex sometimes but isn't diminished when they don't do those things.

I don't think Groe feels romantic feelings but i get that two characters who ostensibly have their weird fucked up "romance" be the core thing going on in their life isn't exactly the aromantic rep that ppl are looking for. i mean, it is for ME, but not for everyone.

i guess im just not Good Aro rep tho, cuz im not interested in romance but i AM interested in finding a person who i know I can depend on for everything and share my life with, yknow? i want someone who i know will always be on my side.

and that looks the same to a lot of poeple as romance but the experience of it was way different. cuz i can be with them forever and never want to do more than kiss their forehead as a sign of affection and that'd be great for me, while i KNOW that's unthinkable for a lot of people.

but when writing my characters it's hard to really portray that internal difference. so i think ppl just assume it's romance, and like, that's fine i guess?

so like, groe and maureno fuck cuz it's fun and cuz they have unresolved issues but it's not crucial or even really important to their relationship- to the point that they care WAY more about who each other is hanging out with than who each other is having sex with.

but now i'm rambling about asexuality and stuff.. uhhh the point is YES i have aromantic characters NO I dont know if they're "loveless"

but if a character isn't aromantic or at least aspec that's probably cuz i made a concerted effort to think of them as such.

#nnstuff #ask #nnoc #arospec #aromantic #aro #groe caluna