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zet-sway · 3 years

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@the-wip-project day 42:

What’s an an old idea that you've discarded?

Idea: Thane is dead. Shepard fucks off to the Citadel, gets drunk as fuck, sleeps with a drell man who (in the right lighting with the right amount of alcohol) looks vaguely like Thane, wakes up in his house, and has a complete breakdown. Timeline here is vague, maybe post-war???? I don't know.

Tumblr doesn't put dates on drafts so I don't know specifically when I had this idea, but I'd wager sometime around 2013-2014. I actually wrote most of this fic but I never did write a complete ending. After the WorstYearsOfMyLifeTM in 2017/2018, I decided I don't want to finish this idea. So this fic is incomplete and will stay that way.

About 1300 words-ish.

Warnings: Shep engages in sexual acts while drunk. The epilogue where she regrets her actions may be triggering for some folks. I will place a warning before that portion.

The old crew doesn’t worry when Shepard doesn’t answer her calls again.

It’s close to midnight when she blunders into him - he’s tall, lean, and not quite as firm as she remembers, but through her blurry vision, through the haze of intoxication, it’s almost him.

Words slip past her mouth and she struggles fruitlessly not to slur them. “Hey.”

He acknowledges her with a quiet stare and she watches his dark eyes.

"Are you into humans or am I just wasting my time?" She says, or tries to say.

The corner of his mouth turns upward and he speaks, uttering some kind of sly, overconfident and probably rude praise of her body. His words aren’t important after she gets the idea that he won’t throw her off him when she shuts him up with a bold kiss.

She slides neatly into his lap and he spares only a moment’s hesitation before pulling her closer and returning her kiss in earnest. Her fingers slide over his shoulders, trying to ignore the woven fabric that feels so different than the smooth leather she remembers. There’s too much alcohol on his breath for her to taste him properly, and it’s probably better that way. His hands smooth down her hips and over her backside, pulling her roughly against him as he kneads her flesh. His venom swims through her blood and the combination of his poison and the shots she’s taken is absolutely perfect. She feels more comfortable, her skin feels light. She sighs into his mouth, gripping his neck, his face, crushing his lips against hers. Surprisingly, he reciprocates. Scaled hands tangle in her hair, testing it's texture before using it to tug her closer. The pressure feels exquisite. He tugs her head back, baring her throat.

"I've never been with a human before," he mumbles as he nips her collarbone.

Her response is slurred. "Interested?" He tugs her hair sharp and she gasps loudly.

"Oh hell yeah."

Gasping, she moves his hand to her breast. "Here," she says. "We can get to the rest when we... ah.. when we find a room."

He gives her flesh an appreciative squeeze, testing the weight and fullness of her breast in his hand before planting his hands firmly on her ass and standing, lifting her clear off the ground. She barely manages to grab her drink before he's carrying her out of the club.

His apartment is a decent journey into the wards. She hardly notices the time has passed after she gulps down the rest of her drink and climbs into his lap. The cab driver makes a small noise of disgust before tinting the window.

She's giggling in her drunkenness when they arrive at his door. In the harshly lit hallway, he pushes her roughly against the door, while he fumbles to swipe his omni-tool over the entry and then they're stumbling inside, lips locked, falling on a couch or a chair or something soft and sturdy. It's dark inside, shadows passing over the dim light filtering in from Zakera as cars whiz by the window. She can't see him clearly - what color was he again? Green - that must be it. Green and chartreuse and emerald and all the familiar colors the seem to warm her hands and seep into her blood as she drags her palms over his scaled shoulders.

He's not Thane, but she's too far gone to remember that. In the dark, the thundering of her blood drowns out the sounds coming from the apartment above them. He's utterly fascinated with her hair, hands tangling in the tousled strands, apparently in favor of undressing her - but that's okay, they'll get to that eventually. It's not like she has anything he's never seen - they've done this a million times.

His venom swirls behind her eyes and he swipes his tongue over her lower lip just before catching it between his teeth. He's an aggressive kisser; his lips are firm and bruising and she loves it. As her head swims with the alcohol and venom in her blood, she swears she's never felt anything better.

It's a struggle, but she manages to untangle him from his shirt. He's horizontal now. When had that happened? His scales, greyed from the low light, are laid out before her like a field of stars. She pushes the shirt over his head and leaves it to tangle between his wrists as she flings off her own shirt and bra.

His dark eyes widen as her skin is bared. She pinches and rolls a nipple between her finger and misses how he bites his lip in anticipation because then she's slinking down his body and undoing his pants. Every breathy groan that passes his lips drives her need higher and higher until she can't stand it anymore and she crawls back up the shadowed expanse of his scales and then his hands are free and roaming all over her.

Lips locked again, they tumble off the cushions and she finds herself beneath him. His lips taste red, like raspberries or apples or emergency lights - she can't really tell after his venom hits her anew.

"Please," she whispers against his mouth, "please..."

Dry air hits her legs as he pushes her pants down her thighs and situates himself between them and then, without any further pretense, he slides home.

It burns so good, just like she remembers. It's like she's drowning in memories of him and it feels like just days ago they were making love against the warm rocks of the desert cliffs. She gasps at the thought, hips instinctively canting into his with each thrust.

It feels like hours before they're both spent. As she lays panting on the floor, exhaustion creeps into her bones and she falls asleep before his warmth leaves her. In the deep recesses of her mind, she's sound asleep in his arms - her long dead lover from a life that feels so far away that it may as well have been the memory of another woman.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Content warning: Shepard is about to regret her drunken encounter. Please stop reading here you think this will be distressing for you.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

She wakes to the bright light of a nonexistent sun, groaning as pain and delirium assault her senses. Her back aches and her eyes are screwed shut in the wake of the mother of all hangovers. But more distressing than the pounding of her head is the hard surface beneath her and the unfamiliar scent of the blanket around her naked body.

"Hey." There's a rustle of movement and a shadow passing in front of her closed eyelids as her clothes, folded and stacked, are placed near her head. "I thought about moving you to the couch but I didn't want to wake you."

The drell before her confirms her fears. Dressed in only a pair of black shorts, he's lean and tall and dark, dark red.

Panic and anxiety bite at the edges of her mind but she compartmentalizes them, along with the pain and fatigue, as she'd always been trained to do. She grabs at her clothes and hurries to dress herself on rashy and reddened wobbly legs. It hasn't been two minutes before she's pulling her boots on and practically leaping for the door.

He calls after her, but she doesn't even look back. Whoever he is, she doesn't even want to see his face. She can barely hold herself together enough to hail a cab to dock 24, and once she's inside, she doesn't even try.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

And that's it. I think this is pretty dark, and unnecessary. Some people read and respect this sort of angst, I think. I don't want to dig into my to write feelings of loss anymore. I had a 30 minute hysterical breakdown because of a well written fic where Thane dies, I sure as hell don't need to be publishing this. But honestly, from a writing perspective, I think the wordplay has it's moments. Maybe I could adapt this into something more positive.

#zet vs 100days #zet writes things #cw alcohol

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youareunbearable · 4 years

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every single day im more and more sure im some form of autistic mainly because of how relatable a lot of autistic headcannons im seeing are? Like ive never been tested and if i mention my thoughts to my family they laugh it off, and ik its really hard to diagnose women and adults because of ability to camouflage but i swear im somewhere on the spectrum.

I’m putting a list of stuff under a readmore, but if ppl who know about autism wants to throw in their two cents i’ll gladly take it!

I used to do the flappy hand thing when processing/dealing with high emotions, i did it for almost a decade when i was a kid before i trained myself out of it because my family and peers used to tease me about it (my parents would laugh at me because id flap when i got frustrated and joke that im trying to fly away)

i used to do the raptor hands thing when in idle mode but when i was a teen someone told me how weird it looks/it makes ppls eyes go to my chest which makes me uncomfy so now i just clasp my hands behind my back

i can never really tell what emotion im feeling unless someone else or I voice it. like i’ll be going through all the symptoms of being stressed/mad/happy, but i wont understand what emotion that is unless i say either to myself or out loud what it is, or when others point it out “oh you look happy/ amber youre pretty mad/ why are you upset?”

i hyper fixate on things, and only really like to talk about those things. my entire childhood it was birds, anything bird related i had to own, and it wasn’t until i moved off to uni that i stopped. Never really told anyone about it tho because it was a weird hobby. I had a cabinet full of ceramic birds and a wall of bird plushies that when pressed did their call.

For all that im told im really empathetic i REALLY don’t understand what other people are feeling. I know what they SHOULD be feeling based off of all the media I consume, and when i help them through their problems i either just tell them what i would want to hear or what the the solution to a similar problem a character in a book was going though. I’m really good at piecing together what ppl want to hear, and basing their solutions off of fanfiction/media that 90% I feel like it works? I mean ppl keep coming back for advice? but if it werent for that id have no fucking idea whats going on with other ppl

I’m weird about touch. now this COULD be from the fact that my family is very touch removed, but i find i crave touch, or the idea of touch, but when it happens i hate it, it makes my skin crawl, especially when ppl touch my neck. ive had the ladies at hair salons brush my hair before and me flinching every time they come close to my neck

while im not super about routine, i do find that when i have to follow someone elses i get annoyed, or when my time gets interrupted. but i think this is a normal human thing. but my brother has ocd and follows a strict routine from when he wakes up to how long he brushes his teeth so maybe im a little biased with that as a mindset for routine following

Im super particular about texture. I wont eat certain foods because of how they feel when im chewing it, velvet makes me want to rip off my skin when i touch it and i have to wipe my hands off on other fabric when i do, my skin feels super sensitive to touch so much so that seams and off textures make me what to scratch my skin off, and i often get large red welts when it happens, i also cant stand the feeling of liquid on my lips when i drink or eat, so i have to lick it off after (or pat it with a napkin) but ive noticed that no one else in my friends or family do that, and im trying to stop cause im being teased over it but its hard cause the wet feeling is AWFUL

side note on the scratching thing: i often do it when im in high emotional situations, dragging my nails up and down my legs or arms is kinda of relaxing and im im just now kinda realizing that this could be the bad version of the flapping i used to do, because i didnt scratch when i flapped, but now that i stopped the welts are here. ive also only broken my skin ONCE but i was in depressive spiral so eh.

Im so great at mimicking other people and do it so naturally that i actually had to talk with my therapist about that because i was having identity issues over the fact that i dont know who i am anymore because i just pick up other peoples ways of acting (gestures, walking, what to do with my hands) and talking (phrases, tone, ways of thinking, etc) and often decide what im going to do that would have the best social impact on ppl like im picking a choice from a phrase wheel in a video game (Ive stopped doing this as much since therapy, and now i feel like i do it a normal human amount)

when i was in elementary, i was a fucking angry kid, for no apparent that i can tell because i could never tell when i was pissed unless other ppl told me to calm down. I remember literally talking to a friend in highschool who had anger problems and i remember finding it annoying and telling myself “im not going to act like that” and then suddenly i wasnt angry anymore and the thought of punching someone is gross, but my sister stil tells me sometimes that im “violent” but i literally can never recall me doing anything like that anymore???? so whatever

theres more to this list but its 3am and i cant think really but

#personal #amber rambles #am I autistic or just making myself think i am?? more on this next time im sleep deprived #one of my students was autistic and the kid was so relatable

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ferriskilldeer · 3 years

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from this ask meme

What does your character typically keep in their pockets? nothing. pockets must be free in case he wants to put things in them later :)

Do they consider themselves an optimist? Pessimist? Realist? What are they like in actuality? considers himself a realist. he’s mostly a pessimist, with some optimistic ideas about the people of barovia.

How do they carry themselves around strangers? Friends/Lovers? Family? always polite. a bit less sincere, more ingratiating around strangers. shy and mild around friends. tired around family.

If your character was a work of art, how would you describe them? oil painting - tenebrism - isolated - articulate - cavernous despair

How does your character express they're comfortable? willing to close his eyes or at least lower his lids, relaxing his posture, asking personal questions of someone else

How does your character express that they're uncomfortable? wide, unblinking eyes and a rictus grin, quiet voice with less inflection. whats quickly becoming a catchphrase: “dont say things like that”/”oh x you shouldnt say things like that”

How impulsive is your character? not too much, but in the heat of the moment he makes some dumb decisions

What is something they cannot resist? cleaning and wine

What is their favorite scent? fresh laundry or fresh water, fruits

If they were in a rock band, what role would they play? bass guitar or keys

How does your character blow off steam? he decompresses a little by fussing over his companions’ appearances

Physically, does your character feel warm or do they always feel cold? cold-natured, but heats up quickly with drink or embarrassment

If they were a body of water, what would they be? pond

Does your character value promises? Are they good at keeping them? yes and yes

Describe their ideal date. something quiet and respectable--a public place where they can enjoy a private conversation. a quick but interesting meal before or after. escorting them to their home and bidding them goodnight. laying awake and giddy for hours afterward

What keeps them going? he’s not built for anything else

Does your character swear? What's their favorite phrase/word? he tends to swear because i do, and “fuck” slips in as a sentence enhancer a lot. if i played it completely straight he wouldn’t swear as much, especially in front of people he thinks are his social “betters”

How does your character act when they want to seem inviting? pleasant, servile, and charitable

How does your character act when they want to seem threatening? he hasn’t tried this yet. probably gets cold, toneless, and petty

Can your character flirt? Are they aware they're flirting? How do they do it? he flirts through compliments or friendly gestures, but gets embarrassed and immediately backs down from it

If they were a potion, what would it look like? (Color, glass shape, smell, etc.) something light and translucent, maybe green or pink, in a fine-cut clear glass decanter sealed with red wax. smells of soap and blood.

What kind of person would they never side with? the ruthless, the hungry, the unrepentant, the narcissistic

Would your character want to be famous? Why or why not? hell no--he must never be in the spotlight

What's a controversial food opinion they would have? he loves weird combinations. totally a “x on pizza” or “dip your nugs in y” type

How does your character feel about spending money? he’s frugal for himself, but generous when it comes to spending on others

What would they want for their funeral? he wants everyone he knows to come, he wants no one to come, he wants to be cremated, he wants no speeches, he wants a thousand tears, he wants no one to notice he died at all.

If they were a ghost, how would they haunt in the afterlife? funny: would clean up after the living and help out around the house. less funny: plaintive scratching at closed doors, cold spots, sounds of pacing, banging cabinet doors in a bid for attention

Why do they keep secrets? he’s ashamed of being alive

What does your character have too much of? shame and anxiety

What never gets old for your character? Something your character can't get enough of? new food and external validation

Can your character visualize actual concepts in their head? Or are they just vague thoughts? yes, strong third eye

Does your character daydream? What do they usually keep their mind occupied with? he doesnt daydream often. often goes over lists of supplies, chores, sensations to occupy his mind if he starts to get too anxious

How do they feel about the unknown? frustrating and scary, but cant be helped

How do they respond to condescension? part tight, teeth-grinding fury, part resignation/agreement, self-loathing

Do they consider themselves childish/mature for their age? he’s always thought himself mature. but actually, his self-denial and black-and-white judgment of himself is a bit childish

What makes them blush? impropriety of any kind, and being complimented in any way

What are some ways your character acts silly? makes weird offhand remarks about birds, responding seriously to the overly creepy things others say

What fairytale/myth suits your character the best? the nightingale and the rose prob

What does your character believe their party lacks? power and, if hes honest, a fighting chance

Describe a corruption/redemption arc version of your character. the letter opener demands more and he gives more because hes always been a servant, and himself for the chance at beating strahd and saving ireena+barovia is hardly a price at all. i guess the letter opener eats his soul or something and he becomes cold, driven, and megalomaniacal. probably scares the others and eventually they part ways--perhaps violently, since ismark and marceline dont suffer any sort of disrespect or threat lightly. could only be redeemed if someone can convince him that he doesnt have to bear all the responsibility, and that theyd rather have their normal squishy ferris over an insane powerhouse. hed have to sacrifice himself/his power in some important way to make up for it though, if he did something really bad

What's a texture/sound your character cannot stand? dislikes ripping+scraping sounds, and chunky gloopy textures

Is there something your character isn't very good at, but enjoys doing nonetheless? talking about wine

Is your character good at apologizing? Why or why not? yes because hes very tactful

How do they hold onto people? physically? clasp a shoulder, grab an arm with one hand, or hold on to the fabric at the small of their back.

What would they never forgive themselves for? killing an innocent person or doing something purely selfish

How does your character feel about growing old? fine, he just wishes hed wasted less time

Do they consider themselves funny? How do they use humor? he doesnt think hes especially funny, but gets a big confidence boost when someone laughs at his jokes, which he uses to defuse tension or establish a rapport

What do they want to leave behind? he just wants to forget his time at cobblepot manor. and he doesnt

Do they talk to themselves? sometimes mutters when hes annoyed

What is their native language? If they know multiple languages, how do they speak/act differently? he knows a lot, but the further they get from elvish or common, the more formal and archaic they get

What makes them a hypocrite? though he holds high standards for himself and others, he relaxes his standards for others quickly (“oh what did i expect anyway, im the responsible one here”). also will decry needless violence or murder, even though he murdered his boss brutally in the guy’s sleep

If your character was under quarantine, what type of quarantine person would they be? (Productive? Hobbyist? Lazy?) very productive. flits to new hobbies quickly

What does freedom mean to them? confusion, terror, excitement. its the only thing that would make him really happy, and he doesnt want it

What is something they currently look forward to? What is something they dread? look forward to getting a reward from the burgomaster. dread seeing strahd again

How has your character's mental health been recently? not great! but hes been holding it together because marceline is already upset and ismark is volatile. theres not room for his feelings.

If your character had wings what would they look like? sleek, pointy, fast-flying, well-preened, earth tones. falcon for efficiency, owl for discretion, or towhee for smallness

How does the way they act seemingly contradict their ability scores? very high cha abilities that he rarely uses, since marceline and ismark are more assertive. notably an intimidation score higher than marceline’s and equal to ismark’s that he would probably never use

What's a habit that needs to be broken? he needs to learn how to aim eldritch blast (i need to roll better)

What's something your character has realized? hes fucked

Who do they go to when they need to bounce ideas off of someone? suggests things to marceline and ismark (the other PCs), but makes a point to ask ireena (DMPC) what she thinks

Who do they go to when they've had a nightmare? nobody

Who does your character think is the most put together in the party? marceline or himself

Which party member would they pull a prank on? Who would they plan a prank with? ismark; marceline or ireena

What is one thing they want each party member to know? marceline: no matter where you come from or what youve done, youre a precious ally and friend to me. we are all unhappy here, so please just try to play along. ismark: you need a goal beyond protecting ireena and killing strahd because if you achieve those goals then youll be left adrift. and you deserve better. please stop yelling at, lying to, or trying to fight everyone we meet. ireena: you deserve more than life dealt you. as long as you live, there is hope for you. youre loved and protected by a lot of people, and its a happy burden.

Which do they value more?

65. Adoration or Intimidation? adoration

66. Outward Passion or Quiet Rebellion? quiet rebellion

67. Selflessness or Self-Preservation? selflessness

68. Objective or Subjective? objective

69. Journey or Destination? wishes he could say journey, but its destination

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