Xiao as a mermaid.... ahhhh why would you type that out!!! He brings shiny shells and cool rocks from the sea floor to share with you 😭
EXACTLY ANON YOU GET IT at first he expresses NO interest in hanging out with any MORTALS, because how could he possibly relate to humans, who are some of the worst and most destructive creatures out there - but after he gets stuck in a fishing net, he has no choice but to begrudgingly accept your help as he recovers... He's cranky as hell, acts more like a feral cat than a mermaid, but when you offer him some tofu, his icy demeanor seems to thaw...? He starts opening up and talking about immortal life as a mermaid, about all the sailors he's saved from drowning, about that time he was held captive by a demonic water god... He really grows to trust you!
After he recovers and returns to the sea, you never expect to see him again... but no, he comes back and visits you recurrently for tofu (and because he misses you, but he'd rather die than admit that - at least for the first year of your slow burn romance). He also brings you the nicest deep sea gifts in return - shells, gleaming rocks, worn beach glass, pearls, and even gems from sunken ships... No, no, he doesn't need anything in return - just spending time with you is enough.
Writing Asexual Characters
officially, the post i wanted to make for so long
now as a fellow drago– i mean, asexual person, i decided to write all of this down and help you write asexual characters !
first of all: "what the hell is asexual?" you ask. asexual means not sexually attracted to anyone.
"is asexual lgbt+, can i refer to it by a part of that community?" absolutely yes ! it is actually recommended to do so, as we're facing a *lot* of acephobia and exclusionism
"is asexual and aromantic the same?" nope! these are two different terms, with different terminologies
"so someone asexual might be aromantic, but also might not be...how does that work?" these two terms stand independent from each other. one can be asexual and romantic (typically referred to as aroace), asexual and alloromantic (alloromantic = attracted to people romantically), and aromantic and allosexual (allosexual = sexually attracted to people)
"that's confusing" let's break it down then !
aroace → not attracted to anyone, romantically or sexually
asexual alloromantic → attracted to people romantically but not sexually
allosexual aromantic → attracted to people sexually but not romantically
asexuals are casually referred to as aces !
aromantics are casually referred to as aros !
"can aces have sex then?" yup ! if they want to, that is.
"is celibacy = asexuality?" nope !
Celibacy is a voluntary vow of sexual abstinence.
Asexuality is a lack of sexual attraction.
"do aces masturbate?" if they want to, yeah !
"are aces disgusted by sex?" depends individually ! there are aces who are, by definition, disgusted by sex and they're called sex-repulsed aces !
"is asexuality strict or is it a spectrum?" a spectrum ! there's actually a really handy scale !
↑ a lot of identities fall somewhere on the scale !
one example: a demisexual person → someone who feels sexual attraction only towards people they have a close emotional connection with
"so i can write them doing the dirty?" as long as they consent to it, fuckin' go on !
"is asexuality a disorder?" it's not actually ! it's a sexuality. like you wouldn't diagnose someone with gay, you wouldn't diagnose someone with asexual either !
"any harmful stereotypes?" unfortunately, yeah. some harmful stereotypes:
~ asexual people don't have sex ever
→ there are people that do have sex regularly and there's nothing wrong with that !
~ asexual people don't feel anything
→ a lot of asexual people are alloromantic and very much attracted to people romantically. however, even if they're aroace, they still feel something, they're not robots !
~ asexual haha plants !
→ just don't. it's harmful, really, we're humans just as much as you are !
~ aces are just awkward virgins !
→ i mean, some of us, sure, but not every ace is a virgin nor is awkward ! i met some of the most outgoing and flirty people who are asexual !
"but relationships can't work without sex!" I'm sorry, but you're reducing your partner to sex. it's almost like you're making them, us, be in a relationship just to please you. don't do that ! now I'm not saying wanting sex in a relationship is bad, on the contrary ! if you're not comfortable or happy in a relationship without sex, say it in the beginning ! make it easier for both parties
"oh that's just because you're disabled" and here i stand, both mentally and physically disabled person, answering this. no it's not about the disability. if i were to be neurotypical and physically able, I'd still be asexual ! don't make your characters asexual because of a disability. asexual characters can be disabled, but the disability shouldn't be the reason for their asexuality.
"it's just a phase, you'll know when you grow up and meet the right person." asexuality is a sexual orientation. it's not turned off when i meet the right person. a gay person does not turn straight magically when they meet the right person.
"that's because of the dysphoria" again, asexuality is a sexual orientation, not a choice or something caused by dysphoria or low self esteem. transgender or nonbinary aces are not asexual because of the dysphoria. they're asexual because they don't feel sexual attraction !
"oh so you were molested." ← that's the worst thing you can ever say. not just to an asexual person but in general. it's none of your business whether i was or wasn't. sexual abuse is not a cause of someone's asexuality. sexual repulsion *might* be, though it's not yours to ask.
"are there any good stereotypes?" there are ! there are things associated with aces that we love and that are also very true :
we love dragons !
we love cakes !
we make awesome puns ! you can say we ace them :)
sarcastic assholes. do it. write this character. I'll read your book and then pay you a million dollars.
swords. daggers. gimme
"can i point out that someone is ace without explicitly saying it?" yup ! black ring on the middle finger ! a small bracelet with black gray white and purple in that order ! breathing fir– anyways
"robots?" no. you can make robots asexual but you can't make the reason for their asexuality be the fact that they're not human.
"aliens?" no. you can make aliens asexual but you can't make the reason for their asexuality be the fact that they're not from this planet.
for the record, you absolutely can make asexual robot and an asexual alien date
"so yes sex if consent, no sex if repulsed, no sexual attraction, could be romantic attraction, and aces very cool?" yup ! you get it !
thank you for your attention
i hope this helped, if you have any more questions, I'm more than willing to answer them !
22. Steaming Mugs
another short thing with Myla and Hornet, this time based off of this prompt list by @creativepromptsforwriting
this was written throughout various early mornings so excuse the quality being off!
for reference, Holly is Hornet and Apricot is Little Ghost
“Hello out there,” Came a voice from somewhere behind Holly. “A-are you tired yet?”
While there was no need to look back to find out exactly who her visitor was - she'd recognize Myla’s chipper voice anywhere - she couldn't help but distantly wonder how she'd gotten inside. It wasn't as if she or Apricot often left the door unlocked, and it didn't seem as if the latter was awake to open it for her either. Not only that, but there seemed to be something clenched in each of her hands…
“Kinda.” Holly admitted. It was then that a cloud of warmth billowed against her face, having come from somewhere just below. Bleary eyes focused on the source, and, with enough blinking to rival a camera lense, slowly parsed out what exactly she was looking at.
A steaming mug of hot chocolate.
Moving just as slowly as she'd processed it in the first place, her hands wrapped around it. Though they'd been ready to withdraw at a moment’s notice, waiting for even the slightest potential of a burn, that quickly turned out to be unnecessary. It was just right for a cold morning. Warmth bloomed from where the mug touched skin, spreading up her arms, and her sleepiness seemed to withdraw somewhat even before she'd taken a sip.
The nearby stutter of a plastic chair leg being dragged over concrete signaled her friend's seating.
“How long have you been up?” She found herself asking Myla, finally casting a sidelong glance at her. It only took a moment to notice that her brown hair wasn't tied up into its usual buns. It was a strange sight at first, but it definitely made sense once she turned it over in her head a few times. It was about five in the morning, after all- Who in their right mind would bother at such an hour?
Then again, Holly suspected that throwing the argument out the window as soon as it came to someone who'd decided that showing up at her and Apricot’s apartment, uninvited and bearing hot chocolate, was appropriate.
Leaning back, she took a sip just as her friend finished her own. It tasted good, being a pleasant taste and texture even for her stranger standards when it came to food and drink. “A-about half n’ hour.” There was both a stutter and a slight accent to her voice, the latter only worming its way out in the sleepy morning air. It remained uncorrected as she went on. “Work starts in three hours, and I knew you'd still b-be awake, so I helped myself.“ A laugh. It was one of her brief little chuckles, often tacked onto the end of a sentence in order to fill the silence. This one in particular carried a nervous edge to it.
Holly took another sip. “Today is Saturday.” Myla froze out of the corner of her eye, which only made her frown into her drink. “Work started for you an hour ago. I can drive you over there-” The offer was cut short by a quick ‘no’, and another glance only showed that Myla’s gaze had become glued to the floor. “I wanted to stay here for a b-bit. Not- N-not all day, obviously! That would be too forward of me, a-and pretty rude, just coming in like this just to take over a b-b-bed, but I… I…”
She finally slowed down, and took a long, contemplative sip to ensure she'd shut herself up. Her hands were shaking, and it now didn't take long to figure out why. Being an insomniac herself, she knew the signs of sleep deprivation when she saw them
“...You can take the couch, if you want.” Holly quietly offered. It wasn't as if Apricot and Myla weren't already familiar with each other, and she couldn't imagine they'd mind helping a friend either way. Myla was quick to perk up, although not without nearly choking on her drink in the process. “A- Are you sure? I mean I just b-barged in, and- and you probably have more i-important things to be doing, like sleeping! Or- or not, since you weren't doing that when i c-c-came in, but-”
This time, it was Myla’s turn to be interrupted.
“I offered it to you.” There was a slight sense of commanding in Holly’s voice, something picked up from what little time she had with her father. She quickly forced it to soften, and hid her surprise with a small smile. “It's alright, especially when you've already come all this way.” This seemed to help, the other relaxing into her chair and murmuring her thanks. She suddenly seemed a lot more sleepy as well...
There was a short moment of silence before Holly piped up again.
“...Actually, you can take my bed. There's something I wanted to watch first.” She raised the mug, but quickly pulled it from her lips at the feeling of arms around her shoulders, a warm sensation draped over her back like a particularly thick cape. Something also pressed lightly against the back of her head. “I know that a-a-all I did was show up here, but this means a-a lot. Thanks.”
Then the warmth withdrew, and Holly found herself almost wishing for it to return.
“Think of it as compensation for the hot chocolate.”
*Sits down to write*
“I should make notes about this story so I don’t get stuff confused.”
4 hours and 18 pages of lore later
“I forgot what I who writing about.”
1 note · View note
Castlevania be like... let’s just work out these character motivations and feelings in a conversation where they will LITERALLY tell you what their character development is. Also how about we have 6 different points of views with two of them being completly boring.
Nicole Blackman, Want
pls we’re so close to this event guys plssss
Haunting The Chapel
(Game date: 05/07/2021)
Everyone needed to prepare, and we had only a few hours. Some of us had specific missions.
Aru needed a new BANlink, because of me tearing the wireless out of his rig. Katrya was off to score some high-power explosives (the "good stuff"). Vamir intended to brew a scent to mimic the incense used inside the vamp church. I sent my anthro out to buy a handful of flying drones capable of delivering a payload, while I scooted over to the Learning Center to research vampire lore. That left only one other errand - picking up the remaining two Silver Bullets. I don't know who ended up doing that, but it got done, and Master Nepeta didn't give anyone trouble over it.
Most of what I found was exactly the kind of thing that you see in the holovids: Vamps shy away from an aggressively-presented holy symbol, they're allergic to garlic (whatever that is), they are burned by holy water and sunlight (as if you could find sunlight), and they can be killed by a stake through the heart (as can most things). They're stronger, they're faster, they can summon animals, they can turn into animals, they can turn into mist, they can't be seen in mirrors (or cameras, which can verify). One source even said that they sparkle.
One bit of information had been removed from the database, but as my father so recently pointed out, nothing is ever really gone from the Matrix. It was a ritual to create a vampire, without a master vampire at hand. This seemed like something both interesting, and highly dangerous. I stored it to a datastick, then performed a bit-wise over-write. Maybe I can't do anything about the file existing in someone else's private collection, but at least no one else can get hold of it the same way I just did.
All errands completed, we met back at the church. The six new Kourier drones were loaded with grenades. Those didn't actually get used, but I'm glad we had them anyway, and who knows? They could end up useful later. All drones, and bio people, were made invisible to eyes and noses by Ryatt. Time to go in.
The doors presented no challenge. Their low-tech security was just as simple to defeat from the outside as from within. The holographic projectors were swirling random patterns that were, perhaps, meant to be soothing, but under the circumstances came close to inducing nausea. Apart from that, the room was still empty. The crew set charges in this room, sufficent to destroy the structure from here up. Not my area of expertise; ask Katrya & Vamir. But even I knew that we had no idea what kind of vault lay below, nor what kind of reinforcements were on it. We had to get to the lair.
Fortunately, we had a pretty good lead on how to get there, having seen the three vampires exiting after they locked up. While the others set the charges, I checked the door for any alarms or traps. It looked clean, which I didn't trust at all. I called Varfana over, and she pronounced it clean as well. Katrya took a moment from shaping explosives to take a look at it, and she didn't see anything wrong.
I couldn't accept it. The door leading to the resting place of a nest of undead was not rigged? With a leader so paranoid that he wouldn't even connect to the Matrix via wireless? I didn't let it go until every single member of our party eyeballed the lock, hinges, and sill.
No alarms were found. It was just a locked door. Not even a sealed door, as Aru pointed out when he got close enough to notice some light leaking around the edges.
Fine, then. Fine. Once the demolition crew was done, Ŝtelita unlocked the door. Stairs leading down, where neon lights bounced off the walls in much the same sickening fashion as the lights up above. At the bottom of the staircase, a bona fide wrought-iron gate blocked access. With bona-fide rust on the hinges, which, as Aru pointed out, would produce quite an authentic squeal when opened.
Kind of over-the-top. Someone watched way too many horror vids before deciding to enact a long-forgotten arcane ritual to become a vampire -- as if they were in it entirely for the aesthetic.
Vamir produced a lubricant from his kit, and applied it liberally, while I asked Parker to add some similar substance to my own inventory. We'll do it, too, and I'll carry it around for years, never to encounter rusty hinges again.
Once past the gate (which did not squeak), the passage sort of twisted around. Varfana assures me that it led back beneath the nave; I shall have to take her word for it, for I lost all frame of reference. It opened up into an area containing a desk, swivel chair, some A/V equipement, and a terminal. Oh, yes, and a male vampire, the model for the priest holo, currently feeding from one of the three upstairs vamps. The other two looked as if they'd already donated; they were lethargic, sleepy-eyed.
Wasn't this just the topper. He even took his meals second-hand.
It didn't seem as if we'd been noticed, and I rather preferred it that way. If we could avoid a direct confrontation, so much the better. Under cover of our various cloaking, Katrya started placing charges. I picked my way toward the console, and the others got into defensive positions.
Unfortunately, we didn't get far before they all perked up. The two that were reclining got to their feet. The leader finished his meal, dropping his blood donor to the floor, where she stayed. She was now the only groggy vampire, and I wondered how long she would stay that way, given how quickly the others had snapped to attention.
The leader spoke. "It seems we have a pest problem. I wonder what sort of creatures have scurried into our home." He didn't look directly at anyone, so I didn't think he could see us, but unless he was in the habit of randomly making such announcements, it was a fair bet that he knew of our presence.
Realizing this, I subvocalized a reminder that the silver bullets should be used on the leader first (we only had two of them), and continued on my course toward the terminal, focused (for the moment) upon the organization's assets. Because of this, some of my description of the action comes from an analysis of recorded footage, which does not show any of the vampires.
Katrya dropped all pretense of stealth, deliberately drawing attention to herself, taunting the leader. "Ah, a commoner mistake, no no, we are actually the exterminators. Since you've decided to seek religion, well...We have come to take you to church."
Well, I would have been intimidated, but I've watched her steering a golborn like a racing cycle.
I told Parker to attack the leader with Ŝtelita. Upon reflection, it was not the wisest course of action, because none of my tek can see the vampires. I haven't figured out how she managed to extrapolate enough about his location to even come close; I will probably have to give up and ask because that algorithm might be worth a patent. At any rate, it's a moot point, because she missed with strike.
Aru fared a bit better with his Ci, in the form of a plasmer pistol, against one of the lesser vampires. Varfana directed her drone to fire an actual P.P. - that, at least, presents no mystery to me, as she was in the same room.
"Clever prey, to disguise their scent," the leader taunted.
Now...maybe it would frighten some people to be called "prey" in so languid a manner. Personally, I find it very kitschy. I think that it would have made Katrya laugh, had she not been busy at that moment lashing out at another of his lieutenants. Her claw-shaped Ci ripped through the creature again and again. He didn't have time to begin a defense; he had only started to open his mouth in a scream when he just...dissipated into mist.
Well, now. I suppose that's another legend we can tally in the "True" column.
Another of the officers -- I suppose it must have been the one that Aru hit -- articulated the scream. "Their weapons! They burn!"
If it was meant to be a warning, it was not uttered in time. Vamir entered the fray, his own Ci in rapier form, fading into view as he pierced the third underling from the rear. She didn't like that, oh no, but rather than hiss & moan about it, she whipped around and managed to get behind him somehow -- again, I didn't see the move, the cameras were incapable of catching it, and Vamir was too dazed by having fangs sunk into his neck.
Needle-sharp teeth and claws - more for the "verified true" checklist. I was beginning to wonder whether I should have scattered a sack of ball bearings and shouted, "Count that!"
But at least the master vamp gave up trying to taunt. After trying and failing to score a hit on Katrya, he was reduced to snarling out, "Who sent you?"
The query went unanswered. Or, if anyone did say anything, it wasn't picked up, and I was way too busy, for about this time I broke into the gang's financial records. For such an anti-tek attitude, they kept meticulous records - I found ownership records and base financials for this structure, and also a number of donors who had donated not only funds to the church, but also properties. I downloaded it all, then locked out the master account. I figured I could get back in later, if we won this battle.
As a result, I missed Gordianus' personal epiphany. I suppose that seeing everyone else throwing around magic gave her the idea that she ought to be able to do it too, and honestly, that's the thought which got me started on it. However, whereas I took the approach of downtime study, she powered through her first attempt at a spell in the middle of a crisis situation, and produced a magical flame from the end of her very non-magical quarterstaff. Then she proceeded to swing said staff at the cult leader, which he handily avoided, but you have to give points for style. I shall work with her later on cutting out the middle man, and casting damage spells directly upon the enemy.
Now we come to my second huge mistake of the night.
Remember that I mentioned we only had two Silver Bullet devices. As with the last time we deployed one of these, for the best chance of a successful hit, I gave one to each of the "white crate" drones, which were being driven via deep-dive VR ... by two kids.
Do you see where I'm going here?
Ryatt's drone hesitated, then fired, and missed, the device pinging impotently off a wall. And I didn't catch my mistake.
EllieRocks' drone also hesitated, then looked like it tried to cast a spell, but whatever it was, fizzled out. Its other hand raised a pistol and fired...
...and hit. Not a perfect, center-body-mass hit, but a hit nonetheless. Which should have been impossible.
The impossibility of that shot did not hit me until much later, when I reviewed the battle footage, and I still haven't figured it out. Neither drone has any record of the vampire in their recordings. I shall have to investigate the nature of deep-dive VR, or at the very least, DDVR the way that they do it.
The fight went on around him, but he was out of it as of that moment. The device is simple, and based upon what I learned of the ImagiNet OS designed by the sunchild: it drains Power, only instead of sending it back to the sunchildren, it uses it to feed its own spell. As with all positive feedback loops, it becomes stronger as time passes, and when there is no more Power to drain, it saps the victim's will instead, ultimately ending in a most cruel death. Like the ImagiNet, only much, much faster.
There's a reason I keep this invention a secret.
The vampire knew that something was wrong immediately. He paused, visibly attempting to throw off the effect, then dropped to his knees as my Ci-empowered team systematically destroyed his cohorts. When he started to shake and curse through gritted teeth, I knew he didn't have much time left. I located and played a recording from an abandoned playground, from a few nights ago, through his own A/V system:
"You messed up, kid."
He stared a moment, I like to think in shock, then laughed wildly until his body turned to mist.
The rest was cleanup and demolition, in that order. Gordy found the misfired silver bullet, still in working order. The vampires' sleeping chambers (coffins) were found, and enough explosives placed to level the gothic cellar.
My third mistake of the night: I didn't take the time to search for anything other than financials before we set all those nice fireworks off.
But, we got the gloat, and we got the slow walkaway, and we got an immense feeling of satisfaction. I hope it lasts.
Who do I have to bribe for you to drop a little something fluffy davenzi?
no biribery necessary! i’m having a hard time falling asleep so enjoy! 💞i wrote this while listening to tmtc so dfkghjdfg truly for them <3 this got long & idk if i like it but! hopefully u enjoy
Whenever Matteo was curled up in bed, hand stretched out for David as he lightly snored, David couldn’t help but to stare. He’d sit just out of arm's reach, hands folded beneath his head as he just stared. There was something magical about catching Matteo in a state of vulnerability that was made safer by having David around. Matteo picked him to hold him during the coldest nights, protecting him, and giving him warmth and love at all hours. The nights that David found it difficult to sleep, he’d just lay across from his boyfriend and swear that he was just waiting for a moment to protect him.
David reached out and tucked a falling strand behind Matteo’s ear, fingers dropping down to rest on the boy’s bare arms, trembling slightly as he fought back the urge to trace his unspoken confessions along the skin. Light indents of fingernails were stretched across Matteo’s collarbone, an anxious fidget that the boy was notorious for. David wanted to drag his own fingernails along the marks, giving them the love that Matteo’s blunt fingernails didn’t. Instead, he lifted his hand back up and rested it on Matteo’s face, fingers stroking along the soft hair splattered across the boy’s jaw. It wasn’t rough, the way that David’s tended to be, but rather soft. David often found himself absently tugging at the strands whenever Matteo grew too lazy to shave (which was often).
“You’re staring again.” David jumped ever so slightly as Matteo’s groggy voice pulled him out of his trance. He hadn’t noticed Matteo stirring nor the grumble of him clearing his throat before he would speak for the first time. Matteo’s voice was low —a lot lower than David ever thought it could get—but it was still Matteo in the way that it held a softness. One that the brunet often compared to the morning dew.
“Missed you.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. David couldn’t sleep and all he wanted was to have his boyfriend’s attention, no matter how tired he was. Matteo hummed and rolled onto his back, sprawling his arms out across the bed, fingertips barely grazing the tip of David’s chin. He opened one eye to look at David, lifting his hand to flick the boy’s nose. David smacked his hand gently afterwards, a silent scold for being rude but it was just a joke. He could never be mad at Matteo.
“Sh’ld be sleepin’,” Matteo groaned as he stretched, his spine curling off the mattress before he collapsed back down into the same position, except his hand found itself curled into the mess of David’s curls. The other boy lowered his head enough for Matteo to reach, performing an act that was comforting to both of them. An absent stim-like behaviour for Matteo and a form of close contact for David.
“Get some sleep.” At the soft command, David tilted his head and pressed his lips against Matteo’s forearm, a way to convey the love and admiration that bubbled in his chest. He couldn’t express the way that Matteo felt so comfortable. How he felt like a home in an abandoned forest. A ray of sun in the middle of a storm. Everything that kept David awake at night, Matteo could dull into a worry for the morning.
“I love you, Matteo.” The words were muffled against Matteo’s arm but it didn’t matter. Matteo always knew what David meant.
The bus was quiet. Too quiet, maybe three people on it.
An elderly woman, asleep. Her light-brown-probably-fake-handbag stayed next to her, blocking the seat next to her. Every once in a while she'd breathe in sharply, sending a soft noise through the bus.
A probably drunk man. He swayed, and the third passenger moved away slightly. His clothes ripped, it was too late to feel anything other than fear, too high-wired to do anything than keep eyes on the phone.
The third. A teenage girl. A backpack beside her, she wore a light blue jacket, lined with white accents. Her eyes darted back and forth from the other passengers to her phone. The bus driver glanced back at her every once and a while. The cold breeze sent shivers down her spine, shorts and a t-shirt the only clothing aside from her jacket and shoes.
She moved her phone away, staring out the window. Her eyes drawn back to the clock at an almost obsessive rate, constantly checking as the seconds and minutes pass. Her mind a turmoil, she regretted.
Slamming the door.
Leaving. That one...maybe not so much. Yes. No. She couldn't think, the only reason she was still on the bus.
Two hours later than she usually slept, but she couldn't find it in herself to sleep.
She half wanted to get up, to leave, switch rides to the opposite direction, and go home. It was dangerous, out here.
But to go home meant yelling, to go home meant misery. And maybe that was the same here. But perhaps, if it wasn't people she loved hurting her, she could deal with it better. Because she did love them. No matter how much she screamed she didn't, that she hated them and was better off without them.
And maybe the last part was true, now.
She shouldn't have had to leave, but that wasn't the question anymore. The question was where?
When she first looked into leaving there were a couple places. One, back to Toronto. This was out of the question pretty quickly, as her siblings all lived there, If she ran into one of them, they might tell her to go back. They might ask her to stay with them.
She didn't want to have to deal with that, didn't want them to deal with that. She was already annoying enough.
That left a thousand more options, but she chose Two; Vancouver. The answer to why was pretty simple, it had been a location they had talked about moving to, one of two, in the end they hadn't picked it. But the other reason was, there was a bus route. If she had cash, and she had cash, then she could theoretically simply buy a new ticket each time she needed it, or, use the bus pass till she passed the border of where it could be used.
She could have taken a flight, but the idea of boarding a plane, especially by herself, was terrifying. She could hardly ask for the time on a good day, and it was most certainly not a good day. Boarding a flight, without any preparations...
Besides, she would probably convince herself not to do this if she did that. Not that that would be a bad thing, considering she was being stupid.
Selfish, not stupid.
Stupid implied she didn't know what she was doing.
No, she was actively choosing this. Choosing to hurt her parents like this, choosing to leave, choosing to hurt the people around her.
(They hurt me first.)
She knew both were true, but she was over-reacting.
She knew she had a bit of anger issues, had accepted she was being reckless the moment she left. But she couldn't bring it upon herself to turn around.
Not because she wanted to stay, but rather, she had come too far to turn back now.
Twelve o'three. She had wasted half an hour panicking.
She sighed, knowing she had ten hours left. Leaning against the window, she closed her eyes. She wouldn't get any sleep, but it was better to rest her eyes than stay up all night.
"Good night, Theo." She whispers to herself, "You better hope you survive this."
Lance Stroll & Charles Leclerc ft. Sebastian Vettel, Charles keeps bugging Lance because he feels Lance doesn't appreciate Seb enough
(spiritual successor to chapter 3 where Charles has Feelings about how much time Mick spends with Seb)
Why Finding Meaning is Not Going to Help Your Writing
Why Finding Meaning is Not Going to Help Your Writing
What do you value most in life?
Throw a digital pebble, and you’ll hit thousands of writers who say, “money isn’t everything,” “relationships are hard,” and “you get bored of travel and dopamine highs eventually.”
So, is life about spirituality? Well, sort of.
Many will tell you that life is about finding meaning. They even claim this meaning helps you improve your writing.
Here’s why that’s…
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does anybody know any good writings about nature? could be poetry, a fanfic, a book excerpt, whatever
-Seize the day-
Means nothing if you squander the night.
Yes, go feel gold sun rays and freckle up your skin.
But do not forget the moon glow that paints you blue and pallid.
Yes, go race beneath clear skies and suck in sweet spring air.
But also sit beneath the stars and feel the cosmos pressing-
Pressing against the whites of your eyes and making those pinpoint pupils much wider.
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No finish writing wip! Only start new ones or write random disconnected scenes in pre-existing ones!
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A Thirst Like Flames
Part 1/6 - Also on AO3
Rated E - for smutty reasons.
There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.
They’d barely had enough coin between them to stock up on supplies let alone stay at inns or whorehouses, and Dandelion was really starting to feel it. He hadn’t even had the privacy to have a good wank in days. As much as he adored his new witcher companion, he was ready to drive one of those beautifully made witcher swords through Geralt’s chest. There was only so much they could take of each other’s company and living in each other’s pockets for months on end was taking its toll on the poet.
“Geralt,” he snapped as the witcher prodded the growing fire with a stick, sparks flying into the sky.
The flames bathed Geralt in a soft warm orange glow, casting almost magical shadows over his features. The witcher looked ethereal in the forest, a real creature of the wilds. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to his elbows and Dandelion couldn’t help but stare at the muscles of Geralt’s forearms, muscles he’d seen kill both man and monster like they were nothing but flowers underfoot.
“What is it, Dandelion?” Geralt grumbled, not looking up from the flames.
Dandelion scoffed, pulling his hat from his head and placing it carefully on the ground beside him, smoothing out the feather, relishing in the sensation of the soft bristles between his fingers. It tickled slightly against his sensitive skin, and his traitorous mind imagined what it would feel like for a lover, that definitely didn’t resemble Geralt, to stroke the feather across his naked skin. His cock started to harden in his trousers and he pulled his hat into his lap. “Can you go get some firewood or something, anything, please?” Dandelion hissed, feeling utterly pathetic but if he didn’t get his hand on his cock soon then he was going to go absolutely mad.
Geralt frowned, finally looking up at Dandelion which was the sweetest torture. The witcher’s golden eyes glowed in the dim light of the fire. It was so bloody gorgeous and Dandelion wanted him, and he couldn’t tell whether it was just his frustration or an actual deeper rooted desire. “We have firewood.”
“Yes, well,” Dandelion huffed with a flick of his wrist “wouldn’t hurt to get more, my dear witcher.” He swallowed, desperately trying to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t going to ruin the adventure of his life by flirting with Geralt and pushing him away.
Geralt snorted, but, praise Melitele, stood up and left the camp. Dandelion watched him go with a tilt of his head, Geralt’s arse a finer view than any sunset, and as soon as Geralt was far enough away, Dandelion tore at the laces on his trousers. He barely had time to spit on his hand, too desperate for his relief, sighing as he finally gripped his cock in his hand.
It didn’t take long to bring himself to completion, muffling his cries behind his hand, teeth sinking into the flesh of his palm. He cursed as he looked down at the mess of his hand and trouser, whining when he saw the state of his poor hat.
“Oh bloody hell,” he grumbled, wiping his hand on the damp grass. Hopefully there was a river nearby and he could clean up properly in the morning.
Geralt, contrary to Dandelion’s belief, had not been nearly far enough away from camp when the poet had lost all control. Witcher hearing was keener than Dandelion realised, and he’d barely left camp before he heard the soft sighs of the poet.
Dandelion’s sweet scent of arousal had surrounded him for days, and it was testing his control. They hadn’t managed to visit a brothel since before meeting Gulet, before Posada and Filivandral and the Edge of the World. The last thing he’d needed was to be followed around by a horny poet who could barely contain his desires. Geralt’s back hit a tree when he heard Dandelion’s muffled moans ring through the forest. The poet was obviously touching himself, and he’d wanted privacy.
Yet Geralt was listening in like a pervert.
He groaned, his own cock starting to ache, begging to be released from the confines of his trousers, but he refused to touch it. He wouldn’t disrespect his friend like that.
“Fuck,” the poet whined. “G- Geralt…”
Geralt’s eyes went wide and his nostrils flared, taking in the heady scent of Dandelion’s arousal. His mind was filled with images of Dandelion’s pretty pink lips wrapped around his cock. He could finally pull Dandelion’s head back by his soft blond hair, kissing the long swan-like neck, biting into his pale skin, marking him as Geralt’s.
“Shit,” he growled, stuffing his hand into his pants. It was rough, and desperate, driven by the cloud of lust that had taken over his mind. The cocky little shit that had run up to him in the tavern, in need of protection, thinking a witcher was his best bet, had completely changed the course of Geralt’s life.
Before he’d enjoyed the quiet of the forest, being at one with the creatures around him, the only conversations he’d had on a daily basis were with his horse, and he’d been happy.
Or so he’d thought.
Dandelion, the beautiful golden poet, had brought music and warmth to his life. Dandelion, a friend he’d never really known he’d needed until he’d met him. Dandelion, the bastard who was fucking masturbating back at camp whilst Geralt hid beyond the trees.
It was pathetic.
Geralt grunted as he spilled over his hand, not enjoying the pleasure of his orgasm, the sensation soured by the knowledge he was doing this in secret, eavesdropping like a coward. Grimacing, Geralt tucked himself back into his trousers. He didn’t deserve Dandelion. He didn’t deserve his light. The poet would be better off without him.
He stalked off into the woods to gather the firewood they didn’t need. At least it would give him time to think, time to process. This needed to stop before they both got hurt, because Geralt would inevitably hurt Dandelion. It was all witchers were good for. His life wasn’t made for one as beautiful and soft as Dandelion.
Geralt was scowling up a storm by the time he came back to camp. It had taken him longer than Dandelion had expected to get the firewood, and the poet was starting to wonder whether his friend had heard him and decided to abandon him in the middle of the forest. It was only Roach’s presence that calmed his fears. The witcher would never leave his precious mare behind. Dandelion had seen Geralt go through hell for that horse, even if she was a stubborn arse that Geralt complained about on a daily basis, and yet he never exchanged her for a more amenable horse.
Geralt was caring and sentimental in that way, not that he would ever admit it, and he’d probably have Dandelion’s neck if the bard ever said the thought aloud.
A blush warmed his cheeks as Dandelion grinned widely at his friend, deciding to ignore the memories of his recent activities. “Geralt!” he greeted warmly “there you are, my friend.”
The witcher growled at that, and Dandelion pouted, pulling at his hair. “It’s late, Dandelion. Go to bed.”
Dandelion scoffed haughtily and put his hands on his hips. Geralt was ruining his good mood. He’d just about driven away that maddening itch of arousal and now Geralt was being all grouchy. It was unbearable. Perhaps Geralt should have taken advantage of Dandelion’s plea for privacy, clearly the witcher was as pent up as he had been.
“I’m not tired,” Dandelion stated.
Dandelion tutted and glared at the witcher as he started to move the bedroll around the camp, making sure they were as far apart as possible. They’d never slept that far apart since the day they’d met. The nights were cold and Dandelion was a cold-blooded bastard, once the fire had cooled to embers he would start to shiver far too soon. Geralt, in contrast, seemed to radiate heat and Dandelion had found himself tangled up with the witcher on more than one occasion.
He sniffed haughtily and mirrored Geralt’s movements, dragging his own bedroll as far away from the campfire as possible. He might freeze to death but it would be Geralt’s fault.
“What are you doing?” Geralt asked.
“Well, clearly you don’t want to be near me, which is quite frankly unfair, rude and completely unwarranted, but I will gracefully respect your wishes and move away.”
Geralt grunted. “You’ll freeze. Don’t be stupid, Dandelion.”
“Stupid?!” he shrieked. “Oh, that is rich coming from you. I’m not the one making a fuss about nothing, and you won’t even tell me what’s wrong. No, no, don’t look at me like that. I am quite aware. You heard me, but I won’t apologise. I have needs, Geralt.”
“That’s not it.”
Dandelion laughed and put his hand on his hips. “Care to elaborate, my dear?”
“No of course not. So I’ll be sleeping over here whilst you sulk all the way over there, and you won’t change my mind!”
It didn’t take Dandelion long to regret his decision. Only an hour after the sun had completely faded away behind the horizon, his teeth started chattering. He shivered in his bedroll, and fidgeted restlessly on the ground, trying to stay warm.
Geralt let out a heavy sigh from across the camp. “Come here, Dandelion.”
Dandelion pouted, wanting to stay true to his word but Geralt was offering him warmth and a body pressed against his. How could he say no? He whined and pulled his bedroll back until it was next to Geralt’s, scuffing his feet in protest. He wanted Geralt to know that he was still cross with him despite their new sleeping arrangement.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt said softly “I didn’t mean to listen.”
Dandelion’s mouth dropped, and he turned away from Geralt. The yellow eyes glowing softly in the moonlight could no doubt still see him and he felt exposed, especially as he himself was nearly blind in the darkness. “I thought you were far enough away.”
“Witcher have heightened senses. I would have had to travel a long time before you were out of earshot, and… and I can smell it.” Geralt admitted quietly as Dandelion settled back down, pressing his chest against the witcher’s back. He buried his face between Geralt’s shoulder blades, forcing down the embarrassment.
Of course Geralt could smell it.
Foolish, idiotic, bard. He knew that witchers had tracking abilities beyond that of a normal man.
“You, you can smell it?” He asked softly.
An awkward silence fell between and Dandelion had to fight back the urge to start humming under his breath. They were trying to sleep now, despite the awkward confessions. Geralt hummed but didn’t respond so Dandelion decided to pretend he’d fallen asleep.
Next time he’d wait until they could find an inn. He didn’t want to lose Geralt over something so stupid.
SU AU. Wordcount: 100
Zim glanced at the door to make sure that no one was going to come in. Tenn and Skoodge were busy with their patrol, and Dib, whose sleep patterns were horrendous for a human, was going to be out for at least a few hours- hadn't slept fully overnight in a week. He always looked so peaceful sleeping, whenever he got around to actually doing it.
Taking a deep breath, Zim set up the camera, fingers drumming on his rounded stomach as he settled back on his chair.
"Hello, Twix. If you're watching this, it probably means that I'm dead."
@terrifyingstories said “hello” / pairing: ryan fletcher & lissa
his tenacity has gotten him into trouble before with his employers. the belief that there was an underground organization within the government was meant with contempt. he was correct about that, and now he caught whiff of another government. his better faculties told him that an assassin organization made more sense to him than a secret government within the united states. sure, people thought he had lost it, but if there was a way to commit crimes and make them look like accidents in the name of patriotism? it made sense. vampires? they were of stories.
until he comes face to face with the vampire queen. becoming director of division came with secrets and knowledge that was unheard of. she was the picture of diplomacy but couldn’t be older than Alex. “hello” he returns the formal greeting, looking at the file that had been handed to him by a group called the Alchemists. a faction within this government similar to division, he imagines. ultimately, he decides to put the file aside, relying on what little interrogation techniques he’s gained. michael might be better for something like this, but he was the figurehead, and it was his responsibility. “so.. can you tell me a little about yourself.”
meme: TAYLOR SWIFT / FEARLESS (TAYLOR’S VERSION) / status: accepting
Character A, a female: I’m going on a date with that guy.
Character B: Okay, lemme know how it goes.
One hour later
A: *kicks down the door* I’m a lesbian. I’m definitely a lesbian.