#it’s sort of like physics class was except I actually want to do this and I’m not in school

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

Duolingo being like “this is the 15th time you’ve misspelled this word, you’re on thin ice” and my ass is fucking crying because I probably have dyslexia but didn’t get diagnosed as a kid and now I’m being reminded of it all over again when trying to learn another language for the first time since highschool

[staryuee]

are you able to make some head canons of scaramouche, kazuha, xiao, (BASICALLY ANEMO BOYS), neuvi, kinich on how they react to reader being nonchalant like lwk i think itd be funny

NONCHALANT S/O

꒰warnings꒱ N/A

���꒲ ` characters . . . xiao, kazuha, scaramouche, neuvillette, kinich

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . happy new year ♡ still on hiatus but i didn’t want to leave you guys completely high and dry d(^_^o) + also kinich is most definitely out of character just bc i refuse to play the new update so i know nothing about him

XIAO

ʚ it doesn’t bother him, if anything he likes the fact you’re able to brush things off easily (makes it easier for him to stop crouching on nearby trees to assure you’re safe, but lord do you sometimes hurt his ego)

ʚ xiao isn’t confident in romantic gestures, even something as small as a compliment or pinky holding has him wanting to disappear and recover…so when you so easily act indifferent to it while he’s practically drunk on flush straight up makes him die a little

ʚ aside from the slight jabs to his pride, you aren’t uncaring and dumb enough to let his love go unnoticed (thankfully) so he can fully appreciate that you protect your peace

ʚ haunted by memories of war, death and the stench of metal, it’s nice to find some solace in the cool air you exude

ʚ from the outer perspective, two people who have nonchalant energy wouldn’t seem to work too well (but lord do people drool when you two are duoed for a fight), but you and xiao just click!

ʚ he’s quiet, protective but sweet and ready to take the first step to love you, while you’re chilled, confident and allow him to take comfort in someone who’s stable (and sometimes snarky lol)

KAZUHA

ʚ he takes your nonchalant energy as you being ditzy or levelheaded if anything - in other words - it’s really endearing!

ʚ you sort of match his personality to the T, except he’s just the slightest bit more reciprocal with other people’s energy meanwhile you just stand back with your hands either tucked in your pockets or fiddling with the edge of his scarf

ʚ he actually kinda just enjoys teasing you if anything to see if anything can make you crack, most attempts end in failure but it is a rather cute bonding exercise to whoosh you with anemo energy out of the blue to then help you reorganise your hair and straighten your clothes

ʚ he does worry for you on the occasion when you seem to show a lack of interest in him, he’s a pure romantic at heart! he thrives off the attention from his beloved partner! but once in a while you do show him just how much you love him

ʚ did he immediately brighten when you once placed your head on his lap really quietly when he was humming a melody to you? yes, and he has no shame about that

SCARAMOUCHE

ʚ oh you PISS him off

ʚ if ignorance and arrogance were ever personified it would be you and him respectfully

ʚ obviously you both love each other on deeper levels than just: “even though i’m above you i’ll still let you hold my hand, — “okay.” - but your relationship is just…humorous at best from an outsider’s view

ʚ the akademiya’s student body is currently conflicted between the idea that your relationship is either ideal or highly toxic

ʚ on one hand, it’s really adorable to see the mysterious, snarky student of vahumana that rarely ever comes to class be so oddly…chatty in your presence, as you so lovingly listened to every word (if the people close enough to actually hear can be bothered to ignore the fact he’s badmouthing the entire school while you shrugged at every word)

ʚ aside from the yapper x listener duo, he’d also…a little more physically affectionate? he rests his head on your lap quite frequently because you say nothing and therefore don’t bother teasing him

ʚ that’s also the main thing he hates: how nonchalant you are about everything makes his indifference seem futile and oddly more vulnerable. you don’t care about anything, and it’s incredibly infuriating! the first time he said “i love you” you replied with “huh?” and that was the first time he’s ever felt so scornful

ʚ he loves you most days, so he will deal with your frustrating silence - it’s nice to see him become the person he wanted to be with someone who rarely intervenes

NEUVILLETTE

ʚ he’s worried, intrigued and a little jealous all at once.

ʚ worried because he fears that your indifference is a direct consequence of his own inadequacy. are you perhaps not satisfied?? do you not like it when he cups the side of your face when he kisses you? or do you hate the purring noises he makes when you curl your hands in his hair? …it’s raining in fontaine again

ʚ he’s intrigued mostly because you don’t seem to care or even be fazed by the fact you’re not only dating a dragon - but a primordial, godly being that precedes the creation of the modern teyvat. he didn’t think the information would be useful to you in the first place, but when you asked so nicely about the two blue steaks in his hair, he felt obliged to tell you - and yet you replied with “oh, cool.”

ʚ a little jealous just because this attitude is rather perfect in court. you can’t show bias and any emotion whether for defence or prosecution can skew your perspective on a trial - it’s difficult. he’s grown to love the little beings that run around fontaine carelessly, passing judgement has become something so much more colourful than black and white. but with you? it’s like you either have no opinion, or just to not engage - slightly admirable, if a little scary

ʚ at the end of the day, it doesn’t worry him too badly. nonchalance doesn’t necessarily mean emotionally unavailable - and believe me he spends enough time next to you to love the little quirks and habits you do when no one is looking at that façade of yours

KINICH

ʚ you 🤝 kinich - two peas in a pod

ʚ you don’t give a shit about anything? neither does he! do you wanna kiss?

ʚ ajaw lowkey hates you both (said with affection) and does NOT hesitate to let his opinion be known, though kinich is of course quick to shut him down

ʚ he kind of enjoys peering his head at you during conversations to see what you’re like - if your face scrunches when people say something weird, if your brows pitifully furrow at the mention of loss, or even if you smile at laughter — and he sees quite literally nothing, which was honestly like looking in a mirror

ʚ no one actually knows how two people with nearly the exact same level of charisma (none) got together, but you two are happy with each other, so really - who else needs to comprehend your relationship?

ʚ you have a really similar approach to life: do what you must to get what you want. but to him that means dangerous commissions that no one would probably want, and to you that means lounge around graffitiing a wall with some symbols you thought of on the spot

ʚ it’s genuinely infuriating to have a conversation with either of you though when the person speaking isn’t looking for particular help (or is speaking too slowly for either of your likings), you either brush the person off and walk away, or kinich talks back rather abruptly

ʚ mualani made it a non negotiable rule to have someone, hopefully the traveler, around either one of you like some sort of support dog to ensure you guys actually socialise and don’t sit there like owls waiting to bite

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

[north-kieren]

What are some safety precautions you recommend scripting for mha drs? or anything you recommend scripting for mha/any dr in general

Us this was the first shifting question I've gotten on this account (I do not use Tumblr like I should.)

Anyway!!! Safety is sooo important for any Dr of yours! Mha specifically is a reality where you'll likely end up encountering some choppy waters more than often (cough villainy cough) or just be a part of/witness some gnarly shit.

Obviously, you probably know this which is why you're asking what are some things to script to make your shift a bit more comfortable in terms of safety. I think you all know that I'm definitely not the safestttt person in my Dr, getting into fights and leaving the country, doing shit that a kid still in first year highschool shouldn't. However! That just means I know PERSONALLY (oh no🙁) what things you should avoid and WHY.

1. I wanna say that whatever your Dr is like, vs. how YOU want to experience it? These safety precautions could differ. So, take these a sort through them as you think about your Dr with these in mind and take what you deem useful, and leave the rest.

2. If you're a pro hero/ teacher at UA. Mainly class 1A, but this goes for all classes. You absolutely will have to take responsibility when it's time to look after your kids. This goes for any situation, INCLUDING being an actual teacher you guys. Don't slack off when teaching these kids just because nothing life threatening and attention capturing is happening at that moment. What would happen if there were to be an emergency and your kids wouldn't know what to do because you lacked the sense to build a bond with those kids to know how they'd react to a situation like that? Or them not knowing how to proceed and possibly hurting themselves or others in the process, INCLUDING YOU!!! whatever class u teach or look after, please keep in mind that these are real children, there to learn from YOU.

3. Student at UA! You're probably well aware about your activity with quirks during the school days and with each other throughout the years. Class 1A,1B, General Studies, no matter. You'll probably end up doing SOMETHING that revolves around quirk usage or something of the sort. This is dangerous how? Itself isn't dangerous no, but sometimes (especially since all of y'all's Drs are so personal and unique = unpredictable) you will likely know personally that the metahuman society is

I N T E N S E. UA does an OUTSTANDING job at giving the students (and teachers. Rip aizawa's elbow.) a taste of that intensity. And get this!!! That's only a small bit of the ONE category (hero life) OUT OF HUNDREDS!!! ISN'T THAT HILARIOUS 😂😂🥲🥲. When I say intense, I don't mean like fighting for ur life everyday (except for the times that u do, indeed fight for ur life 🌚) I mean it in a sense that you'll face certain things in your Dr that you would've never given thought towards before. You'll experience life there and deal with society's mess just like you do in your Cr. SO ! The safety precaution I think you should keep in mind is to just be prepared. Script that before anything super big/impactful happens - you're given time and resources to properly address the upcoming issues that way you have everything you might need to make it out as unscathed as possible. Whatever form that may take, both physical and mental.

4. Be prepared to have a life outside of your class (assuming again that you're a student at UA). Take me for example, 99% of my content/storytime and main shifting experiences shared are almost ALWAYS outside of UA workings and my relationship with my friends and family. If you're not a student, STILL. Specifically for people who intend to be independent or even a part of something big like a villain organization for example. Anything really, you will need to understand that you have your own life to pay attention to-take care of.

5. Your actions/decisions hold value. They WILL have consequences you guys. This is the reality pretty much everywhere, you make a choice and things happen because of that choice. This isn't bad, nor is it good - it's just the way things work. You script that your body doesn't react to poisonous quirks? Cool. Expect some kind of condition or something SPECIFIC that allows this to happen. You choose to become a teacher? Amazing! Now you have the responsibility of teaching and guiding your children. You're a villain? Fine! You will learn fairly quickly what a villain's life would look like and learn to accept it (or decide it's not for you, of course that's always a possibility). This could go on forever, the point is that you will always find that there are things that you probably didn't account for while shifting to a place such as MHA, and that's OK! just keep it in mind is all, this helps with keeping your Dr on a realistic and very real place in your mind.

This is wayyyyy too long whoops. Anyway!!! I'll be posting my Tik Toks on here starting today, probably later so sorry for the incoming spam🥲.

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

Sep 28th

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1. hello itmf request for madam lan (twin jades mom) fics where she lives and meets wwx as lwj's partner. ive read sami's fics with her alive, and i just got to read more. canon or modern era is fine. thank you for your hard work as always!

Every Mother’s Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that’s so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

💖 Do you want to hear by allollipoppins, dameauxgentianes (T, 12k, WangXian, time travel fix-it, canon divergence, not everyone dies au, epistolary, Madam Lan lives, minor character death, dark LWJ, Lan WWX, bad parents JFM & YZY, good uncle LQR, no sunshot campaign)

🧡 All will be well when the day is done by abCEE (T, 76k, WangXIan, Canon Divergence, Fix It, Not Jiang Family Friendly, JFM & YZY Bashing, Fix it for our main characters, Time Travel, Butterfly Effect, Madam Lan Lives, No Sunshot Campaign, Artistic License, Unreliable Narrator, JC Bashing, non-yunmeng WWX, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Good Uncle LQR, OOC, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, WWX gets the love and care that he deserves from the very beginning, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, verbal and physical (c/o Zidian) abuse from YZY)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

pale shadows of forgotten names by Chrononautical (T, 56k, wangxian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Good Sibling LXC, Badass LXC, He gets there in the end it just takes a while, Not particularly JGY friendly, Gūsū Lán Sect Rules, Canon-Typical Behavior, Unresolved Sexual Tension, the universal fear of growing up to become one of your parents, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives AU, Except WN but he’s very polite, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, Imprisonment, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, not between wangxian, Drunk LWJ, to lighten the mood, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Traumatized WWX, though he will not admit it, Taking time to heal, canon-typical communication skills)

~*~

2. ITMF: A fic where JWY is a protective sibling. A fic where you cant help but picture him as a cat that hissed to LWJ and JZX with his siblings behind him. It doesnt have to be the focus of the story. Thanks

What If..... Jiang Cheng Understood? by ToxicAngel13 (M, 66k, WIP, WangXian, Ribbons, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, WangXian Get Married in the Cold Springs Cave, Protective JC, Confused WWX, Angry LWJ, Fix-It of Sorts, Good Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, YZY Bashing, POV JFM, Not JFM Friendly, Hurt/Comfort, Protective NHS)

Trust in my Word by TheObsoleteOne (E, 40k, WIP, WangXian, XiYao, ChengSang, A/B/O Dynamics, Protectiveness, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Omega WWX, Alpha LXC, Alpha LWJ, Good Sibling JC, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Soulmates, Protective LWJ, Precious WWX)

~*~

3. Hi! I’m looking for fics that diverge from canon at the Xuanwu of Slaughter cave, I would love something where they’re not so sick but they’re trapped with each other or where they get together at that point! @alienspectator

Five Things That Didn't Happen in Xuanwu Cave series by Deastar (E, 26k, WangXian, Xuanwu of Slaughter Cave, Fluff Marriage Proposa,l or perhaps more accurately discussion of marriage proposal, Rule 63, Gender Changes, Female WangXian, very soft despite the setting, Kissing, Non-Oblivious LWJ and WWX, Class Issues, Cuddling, Hurt/Comfort, Huddling For Warmth, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, what if the famed horny clench was actually solely a toppy clench, Service Top LWJ, cute tentative D/s dynamics, like the baby fawn stumbling around on its wobbly little legs version of D/s dynamics, Non-Traditional A/B/O Dynamics, Dirty Talk, Omega LWJ, Omega WWX)

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4. Hello, could you please recommend the fics where lan zhan has a huge inner critic and can't cope with expectations of him and the contradictions of others to the rules he was raised with.

Like people acting , dumb, rude, hypocrite and he judges

And if Wei Ying is ok with him being judgemental and helps him

Thank you!

Vandalize by The_Gourmet_Gamer (E, 66k, WangXian, Modern, Vampire, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Religious Guilt, Homophobia, Anxiety, Eventual Happy Ending, Blood Kink, First Time, First Kiss, Smut, Consensual Non-Consent)

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5. Hi! i’m looking for fics where jiang cheng loses his golden core but wei wuxian decides to not give up his own for him.

This could be time travel fic or fic where wwx decides he has more to live for and couldn’t ruin his future. I’m not necessarily looking for jc bashing but i wouldn’t mind it either! thank you for all your help 🫶

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending) Time traveller WQ stops the operation & talks WWX out of doing it

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Time traveller WWX decides to leave the cultivation world behind right after the fall of Lotus Pier, so when JC inevitably loses his core, WWX isn't around to fix it

Half of my soul by Asphodel_Meadow (T, 8k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Fix-It, 5+1 Things, kinda soul bond but with their golden cores, POV Outsider, POV Alternating)

violent delights by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 4k, WWX & WQ & WN, WangXian, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, No Golden Core Transfer, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Found Family, Canon JC Characteristics)

~*~

6. Greetings and thanks for all you do! I seem to have read a lot of fics lately that are not JC or JYL friendly. It's gotten me down and I'd vowed to skip those for awhile. Today I read a fic that wasn't tagged as such, so it caught me unawares. 😥 I still read it bc I found the main plot enjoyable. But now I'm definitely ready for some recent fics that are happy endings for all the Yunmeng siblings. 🙏

The most dangerous thing is to love by KatAnni (E, 113k, WangXian, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It, Everybody Lives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Hurt!WWX, Found Family, Implied/Referenced Torture, POV Multiple, Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Panic Attacks, PTSD, Golden Core Transfer, Golden Core Transfer Fix-it, Medical Procedures, Fainting, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Asexual JC, homophobia doesn’t exist here, Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Wedding Night, Whump)

Tether by WithBroomBefore (T, 40k, WangXian, SangLi, WWX’s passive suicidality, Canon Divergence, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Lives, JYL Lives, Golden Core Reveal, Minor Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, POV JYL, Grief/Mourning, Sunshot Campaign, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, LWJ makes friends, Fix-It, Happy Ending) these aren't really recent but The most dangerous thing is to love and Tether otherwise fit the request.

~*~

7. Hihi 🫶 itmf for scary yllz Wei wuxian, just anything with wwx being insanely powerful and spooky!

No jc bashing or a/b/o please

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect) link in #8

Old Foreshadows by protos_metazu_ison (M, 15k, WangXian, YLLZ WWX, BAMF WWX, War, Universe Alteration, Sunshot Campaign, Rated For Violence, Timeline What Timeline, Mojo’s post)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona))

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending) if the requester doesn't mind modern magical realism: transmuter

~*~

8. ITMF: where after wwx dies like in canon or give up yin tiger tally and vanishing with wen remnant, the jin start showing their color. I want them to remember wwx warning that said the jin wants to replace the wen. I want that when i read the fic give the feel that wwx says "i told you so" Or "you chose the wrong person to put your trust to". Thanks!

💖 Echo, Murmur, Dream, Here by bluerainmist (M, 51k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Universe Alteration, the yiling patriarch survives, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catharsis, Slow Burn, Drama, Getting Together, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Melancholy, Love, Mutual Pining, Reunions, Love Confessions, Eventual Smut, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Switching, Grief/Mourning, fucking while pining, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Harm, golden core transfer, Playing fast and loose with worldbuilding, Battle Scenes, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, implied / Referenced suicide attempt, Sect Leader WWX, YLLZ WWX, Yílíng Wèi Sect)

~*~

9. Helloooo~

I'm really in the mood for Wei Wuxian embracing the GusuLan sect and having his very own forehead ribbon! Do you beautiful people know of some? @lostandmessedup

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

We Meet at the Thousandth Step by Admiranda, Rynne (T, 316k, WangXian, CSSR/WCZ, Canon Divergence, No Sunshot Campaign, CSSR & WCZ Live, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Different First Meeting, Night Hunts, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Plot, Romance, Drama, Fluff, Strangers to married, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Everyone Lives, Developing Relationship, Minor Violence, Case Fic, Mystery, Flirting, WWX’s Canon-Typical Flower Flirting, Arson, There Was Only One Bed, Getting Together, First Kiss, Meeting the Parents, Resolved Sexual Tension, Resolved Romantic Tension, WWX Is a Good Big Brother, New Relationship Bliss, Chinese Mythology & Folklore, Blood and Injury, Yiling siblings, Married WangXian, Honeymoon, Wangxian’s Baby Fever)

🔒 The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death, Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ) which has Wei Ying marrying into the Lans after the burning of Cloud Recesses but I honestly don't remember if getting his own forehead ribbon is featured in this story.

~*~

10. Would love to see people's favourite fics featuring switch dynamics and/or bottomji. Bonus points for subji (does not need to coincide with bottomji). @linderel

Respectable, Decent, and Quiet by Theotrix (E, 5k, WangXian, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, repressed lwj, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Loud Sex, Emotional release)

this bed of love by YaYa (Terabyte_my_ass) (E, 4k, WangXian, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Tender Sex, its so fucking tender and soft, super sensitive LWJ, Blink and you miss it humiliation kink, and a little bit of praise kink, First Time Bottoming, Bottom LWJ, POV LWJ, Coming Untouched)

A Narrow Bridge by FrameofMind, Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (E, 700k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Slow Burn, Getting Together, First Time, Pining while fucking, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Angst with a Happy Ending, CQL Verse, almost everybody lives/almost nobody dies, epistolary-ish, canon-ish side pairings, radishes) Been a while since I read it, but IIRC this longfic has bottom!LWJ

Requester might also be interested to know there's a Bottomji event due to start posting stuff in a few days

Howling by MimiSpearmint (E, 40k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Mortal Instruments Fusion, Horror, Eldritch, Domestic Fluff, Single Parent WWX, Witchcraft, Getting Together, shifter!lwj, yllz!wwx, Intercrural Sex, Hand Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Switch WangXian, a bit of a degradation kink, anti-STI sex talismans, Anal Sex, Oral Sex)

best laid plans by ilip13 (E, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Also some angst for our suffering hero, Developing Relationship, Porn with Feelings, An Ode to Switching, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Unreliable Narrator)

pretty things by ablinka (E, 7k, WangXian, Modern, Established Relationship, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, Submissive LWJ, Trans Male Character, Trans LWJ, Trans WWX, Bondage, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex, Strap-Ons, tdick penetration, dysphoria plays a significant role in the fic but does not actually occur, [slaps roof of pwp] this bad boy can fit so much fucking gender in it)

all of ScarlettStorm's fic but especially 花束 | bouquet by ScarlettStorm (E, 7k, WangXian, PWP, Rope Bondage, Flower Arrangement, tender kink, A Nice Afternoon ™, Established Relationship, Post-Canon, Blow Jobs, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dom WWX, Sub LWJ)

~*~

11. ITMF: I read many tgcfxmdzs fic where hualian is wwx (or any character in mdzs) parents/guardian/teacher, is there a fic that are opposite of that? Like WWX is Hua Cheng teacher or something? Thanks

~*~

12. hello! for the next itmf I was wondering if you could rec fics where jc and lsz start developing an uncle-nephew relationship. no modern aus please

Would You Come Home? by s6115 (Not rated, 46k, WangXian, Junior Quartet Centric, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Junior Quartet Dynamics)

~*~

13. Hi!!! This is for itmf. Is there any fic where

A) the Yiling town people protect Wei Wuxian

B) the civilians realise that cultivation world is the villain and protect Wei Wuxian and the Wen Remnant.

Thank you in advance❤️ @chibiizzy

~*~

14. hello and thank you for the work you do! i was wondering for the next itmf if you have recs of post-canon lxc and wwx developing a brotherly bond. it would be nice if lxc apologized to wwx for what he said at guanyin too

Preparing the Soil by Rynne (T, 26k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Family Conflict, Uncle-Nephew Relationship, Chinese Holidays, Chinese New Year, Birthdays, Good Kid LSZ, Meta Arguments, POV LWJ, Protective LWJ, Married WangXian, LWJ’s Birthday, LSZ’s Birthday, Soft WangXian, LWJ Has to Talk a Lot, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Gusu Lan Sect, Letting Go of Resentment, The WWX Rule, Good Sibling LXC, Improving Uncle LQR, Grappling with the Lans’ Part in the Siege, learning to be better, Music, LWJ is a Composer, LWJ Is Good at Communicating Actually, Not JC Friendly)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things)

Of poisons and forgiveness by Anonymous (G, 1k, LXC & WWX, POV LXC, WWX deserves to be taken care of, WWX Needs a Hug, Hurt WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Poisoning, Poison, Talking, Apologies, Post-Canon, WWX is a Lan, by Marriage, LXC considers joining WWX protection squad tbh, WWX appreciation)

~*~

15. Hiii , looking for fics where wwx did s*x (sex) work(or something like that) to earn money for the burial mounds settlement, and lwj caught him / learned about it.. thx!

🔒 Tender by Deastar (E, 20k, WangXian, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Sex Work, (not between the main characters), love in the time of income inequality, Canon Divergence, Hopeful Ending, Gūsū Lán Forehead Ribbon)

~*~

16. Hello, itmf WY being calm, serious in his communication with LZ during cr period. Like his laughing and being brash is a disguise most of the time, but the way he approaches LZ is sincere.

Thank you 🙏

~*~

17. Thank you for all the work you do!

For an I'm In The Mood For: I'm in the mood to read:

A. Wangxian fic where the emphasis is on their relationship developing, any sex is fade-to-black or implied/way off "screen" and/or

B. Fic featuring asexual Wei Ying or Lan Zhan or both.

I'm just super tired of fics that are 90% PWP. (Can't believe it, but I am, lol).

17A)

through a window softly by impossibletruths (T, 14k, WangXian, Modern, College/University, Neighbors, Music, They Play Music Together But They’ve Never Met, It’s very romantic, Graduate School, WWX Is Doing Music Education and LWJ Is Doing Composition, Music As Love Language, Just A Whole Lot Of Classical Music In General, Podfic Available, Spanish Translation Available, Russian Translation Available)

fish & wild geese by impossibletruths (T, 21k, WangXian, Modern AU, Farm/Ranch, Poetry, Grief/Mourning, Cooking, Catharsis, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Hunger as a Metaphor for Grief, Farming as a Metaphor for Healing, Overzealous Use Of Imagery, Mentioned Madam Lán)

🔒 The Promises We Make by Mayarenerose (G, 34k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, LXC & LWJ, LWJ & WN, LWJ & JC, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Fluff, Angst, Everybody Lives, Canon Divergence, Gratuitous Bed Sharing)

And Yet Here You Are by cosmicmilktea (T, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Domestic Fluff, Cloud Recesses, settling down, Separation Anxiety, Teacher WWX, very light angst, Chief Cultivator LWJ)

17B)

Picture Perfect by manaika (M, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Past Relationship(s), Widower WWX, Grief/Mourning, Getting Together, Families of Choice, Family Feels, Stepfather WWX, LSZ is a Wèi, Single Parent WWX, Aromantic Relationship, Platonic Life Partners, it’s all in the past and only mentioned/discussed when relevant, Sex-Favorable Asexual WWX, RomanceHurt/Comfort, Past Character Death, Food Intake Related Medical Issue (not what you think) )

🔒 The Bunnysitter: a Post-it Romance by theLoyalRoyalGuard (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Fluff, really it’s just soft and fluffy, with a tiny bit of angst for seasoning, Asexual LWJ, autistic LWJ, adhd WWX, I mean he’s basically the ADHD poster child, cellist LWJ, Hacker WWX for justice, background 3zun, [Podfic] The Bunnysitter: a Post-it Romance by Cathalinareads (Cathalinaheart) )

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[mariako-750]

I'm making multiple posts in which I talk about Ragatha because I see myself in her pt.2 (except this time I don't)

TW: Mentions of domestic/child abuse

————————————————————————

Picking up where we left off, I talked about Ragatha's low self-worth and repressed feelings caused by the household she lived in. Let's talk about that more, shall we?

I'd first like to direct your attention to something someone else noticed( @actuallyjustabiscuit and here's their post): When Ragatha begins to talk about her mother, she freezes up and subconsciously fixes her loose dress strap.

Knowing she come from wealth, she most definitely had to keep up a reputation for herself and her family. Sort of combine Isabella and Mirabel Madrigal from Encanto, in the sense that she may have been forced to be perfect and was overlooked by her family and possibly others because she couldn't meet those standards.

Now, her mother? Well in Ragatha's own words: "my mother was... a lot."

That is honestly the most heartbreaking part to me. Because even though there's tons of parents who pressure their kids the same way and do all the stuff her mother did, at least they still hold some love for their kids.

Her mom? No. Ragatha's mom, at least from her own perspective, didn't see her as a person. She probably didn't even see her as her own child. She saw Ragatha as a thing to praise herself with when she met those expectations. A trophy. In the sense that she only ever admitted to being her mother like "Oh, that girl with gold medal? The top of her class? Yeah, I'm her mother, she gets all that from me." And when Ragatha didn't meet those expectations "She's not mine."

And don't you dare look me in the eyes and say that that isn't at least a bit possible or even believable, because no matter what, her mom definitely saw her as a trophy more than a human being.

You bet your ass that that guilt-tripping involved some version of "I went through all this pain to bring you into this world and this is how you repay me? Being a disappointment?"

(I am REAAAALLY reaching in this next part ughhhh)

Now, I may be reading too much into this and the avatars they possess might just be existing characters that they chose or customized before entering the game, but just let me get real for a moment.

What if the abuse was more than just emotional? What if Ragatha being a ragdoll symbolize something more physical about her abuse? Am I saying that her mother would get physical with her during arguments? Yes, I am actually.

I know the hand is just supposed to be a nervous/shy gesture(and if you are an abuse victim please do correct me!!), but I can't help but see that along with her ragdoll avatar and think it may hint to an even darker past. Maybe that's also something the dress strap represented, her subconsciously hiding her abuse.

I wanted to use this image for another part of this "analysis"(*cough cough* rambling *cough cough*), but I can't let go of the fact that she chooses to laugh at her own pain to get Pomni on her side again.

Yes it was a "um awkwaaaard" sort of joke, but she only found out that Pomni finds Jax's violence funny at the end of the episode. Why did she think that Pomni would find that memory funny?

Is it because she thinks Pomni somewhat dislikes her so her pain must be funny?

Or is it because at some point when she was alive, she would make fun of her pain to entertain others? What if she had siblings and she was the golden child? What if they resented her for being the trophy? What if she tried making them laugh at her pain, her abuse in an attempt to make them hate her less? What if it worked?

Okay, that last part is just rambling and assuming and headcanon, so I'll do like Raggy and quickly down this angst.

————————————————————————

Part 1, part 3 soon?

[strawberri-elixir]

Sleepless nights

╰⇢ 5. “I’m not jealous”

Warnings: none… except a joke about yuta having a kill list

note: MORE WRITING :> i’m sure you guys are tired of it

“What are you two weirdos doing.” You watch Maki and Yuta sending each other odd looks. Was this really because they were arguing over who was your best friend?

“Nothing.” Maki crosses her arms as she looks away, clearly pouting.

“Uh huh.” You give her an unamused look before looking at Yuta with the same look.

“What?” He shoots you an innocent look. “Oh and I want you to meet that friend I was telling you about!”

You watch as Yuta calls out to someone from the other side of the room, motioning for them to join your table group. As the summoned boy approaches, you start to notice some… oddly familiar features.

Platinum blond hair, hazel eyes… a surgical mask (which you found a little odd). Despite wearing a mask during your nighttime adventures with Yuta, you never wore it at school to avoid any unnecessary attention.

But something about the boy in front of you with the mask just gave you a sense of déjà vu. Like you’ve seen him somewhere before…

“It’s you!” The pieces finally clicked.

“You know him?” Maki gives you a surprised look.

“He’s the hot weirdo I was telling you about!” You pointed at the boy.

Maki just stared at you, an amused expression on her face. One awkward cough from Yuta later and you realized you spoke a little bit louder than you expected.

“My bad. Sorry about that.” You awkwardly smiled.

“Well this is Toge Inumaki. He’s the friend who i’ve been meaning to introduce to you guys for a while actually.” Yuta smiles slightly.

“Nice to meet you!” You chuckle.

“Yo.” Maki gives him a nod, which the blond returns.

“So, Inumaki! Tell me a little about yourself!” You focus your attention on the newest member of your table group.

Inumaki doesn’t respond. At least not verbally. Instead, he pulls out a little notebook and flips to an empty sheet and hands you the book.

‘I’ll answer whatever questions you have’ The paper reads.

You happily take out a pen of your own, writing down all sorts of questions that you could possibly have for the boy.

‘How old are you?’

‘17’

‘What’s your favourite food?’

‘Tuna mayo onigiri’

The two of you eventually take turns exchanging questions ranging from simple hobbies to deep philosophical questions, completely oblivious to your other desk mates.

Yuta stared at you smiling at Inumaki, an ugly feeling settling in his stomach. He had to physically cover his view of the two of you in order to divert his attention.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Inumaki.” Maki raises an eyebrow at the boy.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Met him in English since he sits right next to me.” Yuta shrugs, looking back at you and Inumaki scribbling away on a sheet of paper.

The two of you continued to communicate through paper for the rest of class, occasionally pretending to pay attention to the teacher to avoid getting in trouble. And before you knew it, the bell had rung, telling everyone it was finally the end of the day.

You happily packed your bags and walked out of the room with Yuta and Maki. “See you tomorrow!” You waved to the blond boy before you left.

“Any fun plans tonight?” Maki yawned.

“Nope.” You and Yuta responded in unison. A smile appearing on your face as the two of you look at each other.

“Maybe I’ll stop by later.” Yuta gives you a smile.

“I’ll be waiting then!” You grin.

“Alright lovebirds, I’m off, see you guys tomorrow.” Maki waves as she stops at her locker. “Don’t do anything gross.” The teasing was clearly directed at Yuta, but he made no attempt to make that obvious.

You shoot the girl a smirk before wrapping your arm around Yuta, giving her a sly grin. “Who knows? Because unlike you, we enjoy physical contact with each other.”

You’re so absorbed in your playful banter that you totally miss the way the face of the boy next to you turns red. Regardless, he shakes it off before the two of you continue down the hall.

Boy was he thankful of your obliviousness.

Masterlist | Next

new character met! ╰⇢ Inumaki!

- congratulations! you've successfully met everyone! -

fun facts:

— maki and yuta are always fighting over who is your favourite person (yuta has a one up on maki because he’s your childhood best friend)

— aside from maki, nobara was the first of your friends to notice yuta’s longing looks at you (megumi is a close second) which then sparked the beginning of the ‘cupids’ group chat

— inumaki was actually the one to talk to yuta first in their english class

— maki’s pov in the ‘cupids’ chat <3

taglist:

@sur-i-ki @aespaforlifersyall @camilo-uwu @butterflyqueen234 @shinsukeee @tanchosanke @emii4evr @lees-chaotic-brain @you-always-made-me-blush @jayathelostdragon @chilichopsticks @polarbvnny @instantmusico @sad-darksoul

[joelmillersbedroom]

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

Summary: After months of dancing around your feelings with Joel, it comes to a head. And his reason for avoiding you comes as a surprise.

Warnings: MDNI 18+; suggestive content, no actual smut (yet?), potential for part two, which would be afab reader, since that’s all I can really do justice/know first hand, but no descriptive qualities as far as looks. Jackson era, swearing, age gap (32 and 56). Let me know if I missed any.

A/N: Be gentle on me- I haven’t written much and not in SO long. And none for Joel.

Also rapidly realizing that despite taking so many honors English classes in HS and college, I really know fuck all about correct paragraph format and present/past tense, omfg.

Lemme know if you want the smut and I’ll make a part two lmao.

Joel is avoiding you.

You know it. He knows it.

And you know why.

You’ve been dancing around each other for days now. Ever since all of the lingering glances and brushing of arms came to a head and you grabbed his thigh in the shadows of the Tipsy Bison. Encouraged by his low lids and your even lower whiskey glasses.

He stopped breathing, and when he realized himself, he jumped like he’d been burned. Muttering some excuse before darting from the bar.

You weren’t sure whether to laugh or to be embarrassed. But why be embarrassed when you knew how he actually felt? You could see it every time he looked at you with those dark eyes. Did he think he was being sly?

Months of the spindly fingers of your dry humor and wit, selflessness and competency that he so admired, worming its way through the splintering cracks of his walls until, without him even noticing, they shattered completely.

But you were too fucking young. He could’ve been your dad, for fuck’s sake.

You couldn’t have been more than your early thirties, at most. He was afraid to ask. At 56, he had no business looking at you in any form other than just his patrol partner. At most- a friend.

But fuck, it had been so long. Maybe that’s all it was, right? But even with Tess, he’d never felt like this. That was friendship- the sex just a means to an end- a way to escape. With you… he knew it went beyond just physical attraction. If he said it didn’t, he’d just be lying to himself. It was all of you.

It wasn’t his fault that he liked when you shot a clicker in the head without even an afterthought. Or that you could put someone in their place while being respectful at the same time. That you could teach him new things without making him feel like a stupid old man.

It wasn’t his fault that you could catch him off guard and make him laugh like he hasn’t in years. Or that your eyes sparkling in the Tipsy Bison twinkle lights made him stop breathing. And it definitely wasn’t his fault that he had to practically run from you so your wandering hand didn’t feel his thickening hard-on that came out of nowhere, like he was a fucking teenager.

It wasn’t your fault that he felt this way about you. But he had to be the one to stop it. Pretend like it never happened.

Which obviously you wouldn’t stand for. He should’ve known better.

As soon as you saw your name next to someone else’s on the patrol schedule for the following day, you decided that enough was enough. You gave him a few days to sort his shit out. It was time to give him a piece of your fucking mind.

———

Walking to Joel’s house was easy. Unfortunately for him, you were neighbors. Fortunately for him, you left your knives at home. You were fantasizing about stabbing him at this point.

Passing by Ellie’s lit up apartment you were relieved that she wouldn’t have to bear witness to your rapidly growing annoyance. It was beginning to fester into self doubt. Because fuck, what if you imagined how he felt and you basically assaulted him in public? Except you know that’s not the case. Right?

As soon as Joel opens the door you’re pushing past him into the kitchen.

It looks like he hasn’t done a dish in days. Flannels taken off after a long day strewn over the backs of dining chairs. Crumbs on the counter.

“Jesus, Joel, crack a window. What’s going on in here?”

Sighing your name, he rounds the corner after you. “Is there a reason you barged into my house?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’ve been avoiding me,” you huff, leaning against his counter.

“Dunno what you’re talkin’ about,” he averts his eyes, deciding that now is the time to tidy his kitchen.

“Don’t bullshit me, Joel.”

“‘m not,” he sighs, filling the sink with warm water.

“Yeah? Then why is now the time to do the dishes that have been sitting there for three days?”

Fuck. He knows you’re not going to let this go, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to avoid the topic for as long as possible.

“Joel, did I make you uncomfortable?”

His head snaps up, “what?”

That, unfortunately, was the furthest thing from the truth. He wishes it was so he could gently let you down and have you be on your way. Go back to the way things were before, before he knew what he was missing. Before he got addicted to you and you consumed his every waking thought.

“When I… touched you. In the bar,” you falter, suddenly feeling embarrassed. Second guessing everything. Because what if that’s actually what this was?

He decides to get it over with before this becomes any more unbearable.

“Christ. No, I wasn’t uncomfortable. That was the problem,” he grits out.

“I fucking knew it! I fucking. Knew it!”

“Listen-“

“No, you listen. I don’t know what your deal is. I get that we’ve both been through some fucked up shit in the last twenty years, and maybe that’s a huge reason for why you’re so closed off. Denying yourself something that you obviously want-“

He starts to cut you off, saying your name in a stern whisper, but you don’t let him.

“Let me finish.” Surprisingly, he lets you continue, a war waging in his eyes.

“I’m not asking you to marry me, Joel. I’m asking you to just be fucking honest with me. It doesn’t have to be anything serious. It doesn’t have to be anything at all. But I know you feel something for me.”

He’s gripping the counter so hard that his knuckles are turning white. His jaw ticks as he looks down into the sink, watching the little soap bubbles burst until he collects his thoughts enough to speak. You don’t realize that you’re holding your breath until he starts talking.

“I don’t… I don’t know what to do with this. I’m too-“

“Stubborn?” You suggest, despite yourself.

“Old,” he forces out.

Your eyebrows shoot into your hairline, because that is not at all what you were expecting him to say.

“What?”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “I’m 56. I’m way too old for you, sweetheart.”

You clench at the nickname despite wanting to throttle him. “I’m 32. Not 13.”

He groans. “Not helping.”

You lean away from the counter. “I thought you were avoiding this because you were like…” you flail your hands, trying to find the words, “emotionally fucked up, or something.”

He snorts, despite how flustered he feels at admitting his insecurities. “I probably am. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m a grown ass woman. We met as two grown ass adults, Joel. What are you afraid of?”

He clenches his jaw. He can’t meet your eyes.

You press on. “Are you worried about what society thinks? There’s an apocalypse, if you haven’t noticed. I don’t give a shit what Mrs. Johnson down the street thinks. She’s an asshole anyway-“

“Darlin’-“

“No. What’s the point in surviving if you stopped really living twenty years ago? You’re not dead. You deserve to do what makes you feel alive.”

He drags his eyes up to yours, leaning up from the sink. You think he might touch you, but he only faces you. Hesitant.

“Doesn’t bother you that I’m old?” He rasps, eyes low, inching closer. “Hm?”

“I think it’s kind of hot,” you say, smirking.

You shyly smile at each other. Letting it settle.

“We only live once, Joel,” you whisper. “I don’t want to be on my death bed thinking, ‘damn, I really wished I’d fucked that old man’.”

He barks a single surprised laugh at that, throwing his head back.

And you think he’s never looked so beautiful.

[steddieasitgoes]

written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair.  At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now. 

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage. 

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state.  He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

[agathawellbelov3d]

Pt 38; NOOOO I DONT WANT TO POST THIS PART I WROTE IT WEEKS AGO AND NOW HATE IT LMFAOO. Also. Bro is like. Horrifically. Catastrophically. Excruciatingly. Down bad.

lowkey alluding to nsfw but like this is fine. not formatting this shit because idc that much. no they didn't "sleep together" bro. they just slept. as in eyes closed and sleeping. be fr rn.

 I’ve been lying in Baz’s bed for three hours. Maybe four. I haven’t checked.

The ceiling hasn’t changed at all. It’s still cracked in the corners, still has that weird stain that looks like it’s coffee, but probably isn’t 

I should get up. I know I should. I texted Shep about an hour ago. He sent back some messages. I haven’t replied. I think I left him on read.

I haven’t done anything today. I don���t have classes on Fridays—on purpose. I like an earlier start to my weekend. Usually. Today I woke up too late to go to the dining hall, which never happens. And is pathetic, considering I woke up in Not My Bed. And I’m still there.

At some point, I wandered back to my side of the room and stared at my laptop screen until the battery died. Then I just sat there, watching my reflection on the dead screen. Then I went back to bed to lie down. In my bed, this time.

I’m not even thinking about what happened.

Except I obviously am.

And it’s all I’ve done. For hours.

Because what the hell was I thinking?

I guess my sleep-addled brain processed some things I’ve been avoiding. Or maybe it short-circuited entirely and took all night to reboot. I went to Shep’s dorm to avoid Baz—and then for some reason came back at four in the fucking morning and asked if we were friends.

And then I crawled into his bed.

And lay down beside him. Put my wing over him like a blanket.

My wing.

I don’t let anyone touch my wings. Not even Penny. She only brushes them when she has to spell them invisible. And even then, I complain. Not because it hurts. It doesn’t. They’re just sensitive. Not in a painful way, just ticklish.

I don’t love my wings either. Having them appear felt like learning to walk again, stumbling about like a toddler just discovering their center of gravity. 

I bump into things more often. Doorways, chairs, people. I’ve had them for years now. But they’re still always in the way.

Which sucks, because I actually do like people. I’m a very physically affectionate person. I’d hug my friends all the time if I didn’t feel like I was constantly apologizing for knocking things over. It’s not like I can just get rid of them. Even when they’re invisible, they’re still there.

So I keep them to myself. I fold them in as much as I can.

Except last night, I didn’t. 

I lay down next to Baz and draped one of them over him, like I do that kind of thing all the time. Like it was natural. 

Like I wasn’t thinking about how vulnerable that is, how exposed it makes me feel. 

And I guess I was, yet I was too tired to process. Or too comfortable to care. And I hate that. I hate how easy it was. 

I don’t even think I would do that sort of thing for Penny, and she’s basically family.

(Okay, I probably would, but the situation would have to be very extreme.)

I hate that I liked it.

How natural it felt to have him there. How good it was to just be there with him and not pretend. To just breathe and not worry about the mess he makes of my head, or the fact that I can’t seem to make sense of anything involving him. 

Just because he’s offered to help me study doesn’t mean he wants anything to do with me. He barely even looks at me, honestly. Not unless it’s to tease me or tell me I’m stupid. Or to help me with midterms, apparently. 

I feel like he’s doing it because he has to, not because he actually wants to. We’re not friends. He’s not my friend. Even he said he didn’t know what we were.

And I shouldn’t care.

But I do. 

I don’t even know why I care. I shouldn't. But it’s almost easier to let him get close because I can’t figure him out. At least getting close to him is something.

I shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. I can’t even stop myself. It’s like I’m searching for things in his eyes that aren’t even there. I’m trying to find meaning in his jokes and text messages, or the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. (Which is ridiculous. I’m always paying attention to him.)

It’s like he’s eyeing me up. Maybe it’s just a vampire thing. 

Maybe he thinks I’d taste good. 

I roll over and bury my face in my pillow (I wish it were his pillow), my stomach twisting. Every thought about him feels like a knot tightening in my chest. It’s hard to breathe.

I can’t keep doing whatever this is. I’m giving him too much space in my head, and it’s driving me insane. It’s not worth it. Hell, it wasn’t even two weeks ago when he was just barely distracting, and now I can’t even hear my thoughts when he’s around. 

Or maybe it’s always been like this. I don’t know which is worse. 

I drag my hands through my hair, tugging at my curls like I can pull the thoughts out of my head. I hate this. I hate him. I hate that he makes me feel this way. 

I hate how easy it is for him to get under my skin. I hate that when he even smiles at me, it’s like he has some hidden intention that I don’t know about.

I stand up suddenly, pacing around the room, my thoughts too loud to keep still. I grab my phone. It’s just more texts from Shep. 

I look at his bed again. I can still feel it. The presence of him next to me. The way I had my wing draped over him. I want to sleep like that again. I can’t unthink it.

I storm into the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.

I shouldn’t be thinking about him this much. 

I turn the shower on as cold as I can stand. It bites at me, like it’s trying to snap me out of whatever spiral I’m in. And it works, but only for a second. 

Then it’s just me again. Me, and the stupid fucking thoughts.

I close my eyes, the cold water drenching me, but I swear I can still feel the phantom press of his body against mine. His skin is so cold, like ice against mine. It shouldn’t make sense. He’s Baz. And I’ve always hated him. Or at least, I thought he did. He’s cold. He doesn’t care. He drives me insane. 

But lately, it hasn’t felt like that. (The cold part, he still drives me insane.) 

He’s nice to me, or at least as nice as he could be. He’s still snarky, he can’t stop making fun of me. Though there’s been something different in his eyes, like maybe he gives a shit. And that messes with my head more than anything else.

 I’ve begun looking forward to our study sessions. Which is… concerning, to say the least. Because I hate studying. And I thought I hated Baz. 

I should be annoyed. I should feel like he’s still the same self-centered prick I’ve always thought him to be. Instead, I find myself wanting to talk to him more. And wanting to be near him. Wanting—no. 

I force my eyes open, letting the water sting my face like it could cleanse me of the stupid thoughts flooding my brain. But it doesn’t work. Because no matter how hard I try to shut it out, his face is still there. 

I can’t stop thinking about him. 

The freezing water isn’t numbing anything. I think it’s making this worse.

All I can think about is how Baz is even colder. 

What if he kissed me with that cold mouth? I’d want him to press himself against me and make it worse. Make me ache.

The thought absolutely fucking horrifies me. 

Which is stupid, because I’ve been thinking like this all day.

Though it could be a multitude of things. We've been spending more time together. Maybe I’m just thinking like this because I know he’s available. Or he could be joking when he flirts. Because he does flirt, just very badly. I might just be convincing myself I like him because Agatha said I did.

But then there’s the way his hair falls in front of his face, silky and perfect. And his stupidly smug smirk when he makes a joke that I laugh at, like he’s proud of himself. Or how good he looks in tight clothes, especially when he stretches, and that barely visible line of skin between his t-shirt and pants becomes visible, and it just makes me want to rip his clothes off.

Which probably isn’t a very normal thought to have about your roommate. Who I usually can’t stand. 

I could probably list nearly a hundred things I hate about him. Though the list of things I want is far worse. Far shorter. 

I think the lists overlap a bit. 

The things I hate about him and the things I want to do. 

I don't even hate him, not really. I just hate how he makes me feel.

I think I want him to bite me. 

I want to see what he looks like when he falls apart. To be the one who does that to him. 

I want to know how long he could last if I whispered every dirty thought I’ve had about him into his ear.

Like how I want to shove him against the wall and feel his breath catch. I want to ruin him—with me. With all this want I don’t know where to put.

Or whether his fangs slip out when he’s finally breaking. To feel his teeth against my collarbones while I’m moaning into his neck, knowing he can hear every sound I make.

I want to make him unravel. Strip all the cold arrogance away until it’s just us, tangled and breathless. 

But I also want to hold him, just to feel his skin against mine. 

I want to sleep next to him again. Just because I want to.

I want to kiss him when he’s being smug, just to shut him up. 

I want to touch the scar on his neck. Gently. Cautiously. 

I wonder if he would let me. 

I think he would. I hope he would. 

And then I’d keep touching him, fingers drifting higher. I’d feel the line of his throat, press my palm into it, slowly. I’d wrap my fingers around his neck and squeeze, just slightly. Just enough for his breath to hitch. For his lips to part and his eyes to flutter. 

He’d let me. I know he would. 

He’d tilt his head back. Lean into it. 

He’d groan, low and wrecked, like he’s been waiting for this. Waiting for me.

He’d rasp out my name. Or maybe he’d just smirk at me, like he does when he gets his way. Maybe this is what he wants. 

I’d feel his pulse racing against my hand, almost human. He’d act smug about it, but he’s panicking underneath. His breath stuttering. His body arching into mine like he can’t help it. 

And I’d keep going. I’d squeeze harder. I’d crowd him back into a wall. Or onto his mattress and straddle him. I’d yank at his hair, pull his head back, and get my mouth on his neck and bite him just hard enough to leave a mark. 

I want to hear what he sounds like when he’s not sneering at me. I want to hear him begging, panting, at his wits' end. 

I’d watch him come apart while my hands are still on his throat. His faded grey eyes on mine like there’s no one else he’d let do this to him. 

Then I would want to kiss him. Slowly. Deeply. Like I’m letting him know that he’s mine. 

And then I laugh. Actually laugh.

Because who the fuck thinks that about their roommate?

Me. I do. Apparently.

I’m standing there with my hands braced against the edge of the tub, knuckles white, ice-cold water still raining down on me like that’s going to help. And I can feel it. My body’s not going to hide it anymore.

And it’s not like I’m about to touch myself. I’m not.

But shit, I want to. So badly.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

I can’t touch myself over some thoughts about my roommate. Fuck that.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Like that’s going to fix anything.

Like I can drown this out with cold water and shame.

I try to think about anything else.

The essay that’s due next week. (And how maybe he would help me write it. He’d mock me, of course, but it doesn’t matter. I think I like it when he does that—mocks me. I love how he says my voice when he’s being sarcastic. I’d let him get under my skin, just to hear his voice, low and teasing. He might even call me Simon.)

Scones. (I could break one into pieces, feed it to him, close enough for him to taste my fingers. To see if he’d let me take a bite. Or pull him in for a kiss, tasting the sweetness on his lips.)

The thought sends a shock through me, and I feel something shift in my chest. I want him. I want it, whatever this is. 

But I can’t. I won’t.

I grab my washcloth and wipe my face, wishing I could wash these thoughts away. But he’s still there, in the back of my mind, like a constant nuisance I can't get rid of. I focus on my breathing. Steady in, steady out. It’s just a crush. Or lust. Or something stupid. It’s not like I’m going to do anything about it. 

I shouldn’t do anything about it. 

I turn the water hotter, hoping that if the room is hot enough, I won’t be able to tell the difference between the air and the heat of my skin. Or as punishment for my own thoughts. 

Everyone was right. They probably knew before I did—that I’ve been attracted to Baz all along. I didn’t want to admit it, to let myself think it. I still don’t want to admit it, not fully. 

It’s one thing to say I’m attracted to him in passing, like a joke. Everyone thinks it’s funny, thinks I’m messing around and being self-deprecating. But it’s really not. 

To actually sit with my feelings, let myself want, feels like I’m burning from the inside out. It stings like a sharp ache in my chest. And I hate it. 

I hate how he’s the only person who makes my skin burn. I hate how I feel weird and hot around him, like I’m too close to something I shouldn’t want. 

And I don’t even know why I want him. I don’t even know why he’d want me. 

Why am I the one to feel this way? Of all people. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing about Baz makes sense. 

Fuck, I’m pathetic.

My chest tightens, and I can’t breathe for a second. With my heart pounding in my chest, and the air thick with steam. I lean against the cool tile of the shower, trying to steady myself, but it doesn’t work. I still feel disgusting. 

The shame stings more than the hot water now scalding my back

And I can't get rid of it. I want to stay here in this burning heat, punishing me for wanting him. I want to stay here until the air is suffocating. Until I'm lightheaded and dizzy and can barely think. 

[ink-flavored]

#OCKiss2025 Day 7: Caught

Part of the @ockissweek event from Feb. 10-16th, featuring Ceki & Aimar <- Day 6 - Day 1 -> Contains: FWBs / platonic horniness, making-out, grinding, semi-public Tips are appreciated!

Ceki sat at the desk crammed into the corner of his dorm room, hard at work trying to balance a pencil on the bridge of his nose. It wobbled. He held his breath just to watch it roll into his lap again. He sighed, not bothering to pick it up.

The lines of runes in his textbook had stopped making sense hours ago, and he still had a dozen pages of the reading left. Which he would not be doing. Mundane physics was hard enough. Trying to understand the basics of thaumaturgical force between planes made him want to switch majors.

His ear flicked towards his phone, text chime breaking his lack of concentration. Ceki flipped it over to read his messages.

Aimar 3:21pm

this class is sucking years off my life dude

Aimar 3:21pm

karma fell asleep and i think she’s dead now

Ceki snorted. At least a class on elvish art and history sounded sort of cool, in theory, but he knew better. This was not the first time his friends had bombarded him with stories of their professor’s monotone lectures and winding, unrelated tangents.

Ceki 3:22pm

at least u have like 850 of em left lol

Aimar 3:22pm

i would seriously rather have 20 left at this rate

Ceki 3:22pm

it can’t be THAT bad

Aimar 3:22pm

we’ve been on slide one of the lecture for an hour

Ceki grimaced at the thought. He glanced at his abandoned textbook, the notes he took that barely made any sense, and the knowledge that he’d been sitting here for hours wishing he had something else to do. He scraped the floor with one cloven hoof.

Ceki 3:24pm

how much longer are u there

Aimar 3:24pm

another agonizing hour

Ceki 3:24pm

ok… do u want to… do something less agonizing?

Ceki 3:24pm

real fast?

Aimar 3:24pm

i thought you were studying?

Aimar 3:24pm

actually what am i talking about

Aimar 3:25pm

yes i want to skip class for a quickie, please save me

He was already out of his chair, smoothing out the ruffled fur on his legs. They made plans to meet in the bathroom on the second floor of the arts building, Ceki threw his phone into his bag, and he was trotting out the door in minutes.

It had been a few months since their first naiad party, the first time they hooked-up, and from that day on, they’d been sleeping together a lot. Ceki didn’t think much of it at first—he’d had regular sexual relationships with his friends before. Aimar hadn’t, but what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. The early concern Ceki held about taking things slow for his sake was totally unnecessary. Their friendship was stronger than ever, they were there for each other more, and it was so much easier to be honest. It wasn’t until Aimar asked him to keep it a secret that he considered how different their particular situation would be.

Where Ceki came from, satyrs did this all the time. Fucking friends and strangers was more the norm than the exception, and it was considered pretty strange to pick one person to be your exclusive sexual partner, even romantic partners. Ceki’s own family was made up of what most other creatures would consider a huge group of single parents—none of them were married or even dating each other, but all those babies had to come from somewhere. That was his normal. His half-a-dozen parents and numerous siblings, in one huge house together, and the adults had a “special room.” It didn’t take him long to figure out what it was for.

Meanwhile, Aimar’s traditionally elvish parents wouldn’t even consider Ceki a friend, because they hadn’t known each other long enough. It made sense for elves, who measured time in decades and centuries, to think of them as strangers. Or at least, that’s what Aimar told him they would think—Ceki had never met his family, and he was starting to think he never would.

Despite his eagerness, Aimar warned him that he’d never be able to talk about their “situation” with his parents. Ceki had only shrugged—he wasn’t regaling his family with their escapades either, because it would be totally unremarkable—but was shocked when Aimar told him it might make them upset. Apparently, elvish traditionalists didn’t do this kind of thing. They considered sex a sacred study of one’s partner, another thing to devote their long and studious lives to. It was not to be thrown around casually… which was exactly what they were doing.

Aimar insisted he didn’t care what they thought, that it wasn’t his family’s business who he was fucking or why, but there was a little undercurrent of tension when Ceki floated the idea of telling their friends. All he wanted was being able to mention it, casually bring it up now and then, but Aimar always shut him down. It was his right, and Ceki hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone else, but even he knew they were running out of time.

He swiped his ID card at the entrance to the arts building and the doors pulled open. The halls were quiet save for a few stragglers, his hoofsteps echoing in the stairwell up to the second floor. Nobody who knew them was out here. He pulled out his phone.

Ceki 3:48pm

im in the building, where is it again

Aimar 3:48pm

across from 203, i’m there already

Ceki 3:48pm

will karma notice ur gone?

Aimar 3:49pm

she was sleeping when i left, we’re fine

Ceki made a little face, but didn’t respond. There was nothing he could do if Aimar wasn’t ready, but they were cutting it closer and closer every day.

Frankly, Ceki and Aimar had a lot of sex. He had no idea how their friends hadn’t noticed. This wasn’t even the first time they’d snuck out of class, met between classes, or skipped classes entirely if they were really going for it. No matter how careful they were, eventually their dicks were going to tell their secret for them. And Ceki would really prefer to tell his secrets on his own terms—especially one this sensitive for Aimar.

But that was a conversation for another time. Today, they were having bathroom sex to save them from their educational woes.

He found Room 203 and the bathroom was across the hall, as promised. Ceki nudged the door open, hooves clacking even louder against the tile. A sink faucet rushed around the corner and his ears flicked. Pretending not to be looking for someone, Ceki wandered in and poked his head around the wall.

“Oh, hey,” he said.

It turned out to be Aimar at the sink, hunched over with dark bangs messily slicked out of his face. He turned the faucet, face dripping with water, and spit into the basin. “Hey.”

“What are you doing?”

“Trying to revive myself.” He flicked his hands into the sink and snapped his fingers. A chunk of paper towel ripped itself out of the dispenser and sailed through the air.

Ceki dropped his bag in the corner. “Isn’t that what we’re doing here?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Aimar said, muffled as he patted his face dry, “but there’s no way I’d be in the mood without something to wake me up.”

“Did it work?”

“Good enough.” He crumpled up the towel and threw it away. “I still hate that class. Just teach us, man, it’s your job, nobody in that room is there for their health or—”

“Aimar, dude,” Ceki interrupted. “I don’t think ranting is any better for your health.”

“Right, sorry.” He sighed heavily, shaking his whole body from head to toe. His wet bangs fell back into place above his eyes. “I do not want to think about that class any more than I have to.”

Ceki held out his arms, a silent invitation. The annoyance on his face faded into a little smile, closing the distance between them in a few short steps. Aimar tucked his head into Ceki’s shoulder, arms around his waist. Ceki pulled him in tighter, head tilted to avoid smacking him with his long horns. Like a switch flipped, Aimar deflated against him, tension melting under his hands.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Ceki smiled, squeezing a little. “It’s what I’m here for.”

“Not all.”

Taking the hint, he turned and pushed Aimar against the wall. He hummed lowly, eyes already falling shut. Ceki pressed his lips to the side of his neck, soft and light, but all the air in his lungs fell out in a heated sigh.

“There’s ‘no way’ you’d be in the mood, huh?” Ceki teased.

Aimar grabbed his horns at the base. “Shut up.”

Happily, he accepted the kiss that sealed his mouth shut. Ceki smashed their lips together, only partly because of the death-grip Aimar had on his horns. He pulled their faces so close there was barely room to breathe, hot pants and gasps the most either of them could manage. Ceki smeared his tongue along his bottom lip, and Aimar opened his mouth with a whine. He pushed inside and licked the other way, stroking their tongues and swallowing both their moans.

Aimar released his horns and grabbed his head instead, gripping his hair in frantic fists. Ceki pressed his body flush against the wall, pressing a furry thigh between his legs. They’d just started, so there wasn’t much to feel, but he knew how to fix that. Ceki broke the kiss with a wet smack.

“Do you know what you wanna do?” he asked, hands sliding down to rest on his hips.

Aimar twitched, half a grind against his thigh. “Dunno. Not messy.”

“Mouth?” Ceki helped him along, guiding him into a real grind. “Hands?”

His face went slack in pleasure. “L-Lemme think about it?”

Ceki nodded and ducked back in to capture his lips. Aimar moaned gratefully, bucking against him, urging him on. He took a tighter grip on his hips and ground him hard into his thigh, and he swore under his breath. There was a clear bulge in his pants now, something material for Ceki to move against. He nipped Aimar’s bottom lip, angling thigh to press against it, and Aimar let out a long, shaky moan. The fingers in Ceki’s hair loosened to weak, soft clinging, surrendering to the feeling of being made to rut his leg.

It didn’t happen every time, but Ceki liked when he could make him chill out for once. As good a friend as he was, Aimar could get very irritable, very fast. In his own words, there was a lot that annoyed him, only so much that made him forget about it. Ceki liked being one of those things, helping his friend release some of his pent-up frustrations. Getting to literally fuck the stress out of him felt good for more reasons than the orgasms—it was a tangible thing he could do to help Aimar relax. Whether it was an annoying professor, his family’s expectations, exam season stress, whatever. Ceki never felt like a better friend than when Aimar slumped against him.

Right now, he squirmed. Aimar slapped his hands over the ones on his hips, and Ceki stopped mid-grind. He broke the kiss to check in, but he didn’t get the sentence out of his mouth.

“Thought about it,” Aimar breathed, flushed up to the pointed tips of his ears. “Hands.”

“Hands it is,” Ceki agreed.

He pressed Aimar to the wall with another deep kiss, and his arms made a loose circle around his neck. Ceki pressed a palm flat to the bulge in his pants and kissed him to swallow his moan, rubbing him gently while his other hand plucked at his waistband.

One of his ears flicked toward the entrance.

Ceki broke the kiss and jumped back from the wall—too late to stop Karma from seeing everything. Her wide, cyan-blue wings were opened as wide as her eyes. Aimar pressed himself farther against the wall, as if he’d disappear inside of it if he tried hard enough.

“Uh—“ Ceki began.

“Guys,” Karma interrupted. “Happy for you. You should probably do this somewhere else.”

He nodded. “Probably.”

Aimar stared right through her. “Yep.”

She gave them both the most awkward thumbs-up in the world, and disappeared into one of the stalls. Ceki grabbed his bag off the floor and power-walked as fast as his hooves could carry him, Aimar trailing close behind.

“So, about the ‘keeping it a secret’ thing,” Ceki muttered.

“Not right now,” Aimar hissed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Please.”

“Got it. Later.”

They agreed to save the hand-job for later too.

--

Events Taglist: @foxys-fantasy-tales @thelaughingstag @ceph-the-ghost-writer @auntdarth @srjacksin @alesseia @monstrify

Athendrolyn After Dark Taglist: @foxys-fantasy-tales @auroblaze @monstrify @thelaughingstag @auntdarth @srjacksin

Want to get on any of my tag lists? Check out my Google form!

[alpaca-clouds]

Thinking about Power Fantasies and Wishfullfillment

I am thinking about Wishfullfillment and Power Fantasies a lot recently. Mostly because someone has shamed me for writing exactly that. Power Fantasies. Or, let's be more honest, for me writing a rather unusual kind of Power Fantasy. The one, where the power that I fantasize about is not a physical, violent power.

Technically speaking, there are technically like two acceptable types of Power Fantasy within fiction:

Punch real good and get to punch all the bad guys.

Get the hot gal/hot guy.

Genre fiction is usually where this can be found - and yeah, it always is a variation of this. Generally media that is focused more on a male audience will usually go more for the "get to punch stuff real good" power fantasy, while maybe putting in a little "hot gal" for the visuals. Meanwhile, a lot of media focused on a female audience, will focus on "get the hot guy (and fix him)" as the power fantasy, with maybe a bit of "get good at punching". (And yes, this has less to do with "what gets written", but more with "what gets published/made into movies/films/games by big publishers/studios".)

What is noticable about it: Obviously for the most part the romantic power fantasies are very much heteronormative. And yes, the other part of the power fantasy is almost always about physical violence, and about being the strongest, and most influencial person there is.

And here is the thing: That is not really the power I fantasize about. I do not want to use violence to kill the bad guy real good. Sure, if someone handed me a Death Note, you'll bet, that I would see what would happen if I noted down "Elon Musk" and "Donald Trump". But in general it is not the kind of power I would want.

My power fantasy is "to be able to talk people into being fucking reasonable for once". Or rather: "Be able to talk and have people just listen, gods darn it." Which is, yeah, why ever since I started playing TTRPGs more than half my life ago, I had the tendency to play the charisma heavy classes. And which also is the reason why my DnD standard class is the bard.

So, yes, whenever I currently write about my BG3 Tav and he is talking sense into some BBEGs (like Gorts, or Emps) and stuff... Yeah, that is very much my own sort of power fantasy. Just as his "I am gonna make friends with everyone" is very much a power fantasy of mine.

Again, there is a reason for me to play bard.

Yet, a former friend wrote a whole ass essay shaming me for it and how unrealistic it was and how the character "forced his morals" on everyone else. (All my questions on how the person's own characters killing their villains were not forcing their morals on said villains were ignored.) And it created a whole ass discussion, where even more folks then kept shaming me about this - and about my love for Solarpunk with worlds, in which again the world is actually a peaceful one.

And... I think this is really sad, right?

Like, how is it that the only viable variations of writing power fantasies seem to be "violence" or "get to have straight sex"? I find it especially kinda sad, that violence especially is the thing people can fantasize about and it is considered "normal".

Sure, you can say: "Well, some forum discussion is not saying much." But something that I keep thinking about: "Well, I am writing those stories for myself, because there is not a whole lot of that avaible in media." Because most mass media is about characters punching real good and then punching their problems. Sure, I can think of a couple of animated kids media in which the BBEG is in fact defeated by words. Steven Universe comes to mind. And, I mean, ATLA kinda tried, though they still needed to have the big bad battle in the end. But in general it really is the exception to the rule.

Mass media tends to focus on violence to tell stories. Alternatives to it are rarely even considered. If you look at the blockbusters and what not, pretty much all involve a finale that does centrally feature a fight or battle.

Yet, especially in terms of movies I cannot think of a single one, where the main character goes in there: "Okay, bad guy, let's just talk about this", and then does exactly that.

And the same goes about the worldbuilding. Why (outside of the normatilization of the entire "western narratives" thing) do so many people struggle with the idea of a Solarpunk world, where the world itself is fine? Why do they struggle to imagine a utopia where there is no sinister plot hiding and Soylent Green is in fact not people? Why do they actually get super angry at you, when you write stories like that?

Because it is so fucking normalized.

But, like... How is it that you can write a wishfulfillment world where the wishfulfillment is based around how very much at war everyone is - just so that the MCs can be the biggest, most badass heroes there are! Why shouldn't people be able to write a wishfulfillment world, where the wishfulfillment is actually that the world is nice and peaceful and the heroes are just really good at science and politics?

And let's face it: This is very much all about capitalism. It is very much about having a very strange relationship to both violence and anti-violence. And... Yeah, no, we need to move past that.

So, that said? I am going back to writing self-indugent power fantasies about my dumb bard going around, talking people into joining the good side for hugs and cookies, and also having a lot of queer sex. *coughs*

[neallo]

what are your headcanons for how mello and near first met? who was at wammy’s first? did mello hate near immediately or was that not till later?

oh omg hi this is one of the only semi-general questions you could've asked that i have a blanket answer for. i'm sure some of my older works diverge from this -- and probably some new ones will continue to, just because i like to switch it up -- but i do have a sorta standard history i like to work from. standard disclaimer: these are my preferences for my own writing, and i think a really wide range of headcanons can work quite well here :3c

in my mind, mello was at wammy's first, and was the top student in his age / ability category. when near arrived, he was not immediately placed at mello's level; not only was he younger and newer, but the headcanons i have about near's background also generally mean he didn't know english when he first arrived at wammy's, so at least some of his time each day would've been devoted to learning that, & perhaps to help him catch / keep up he would have a tutor in his native language until he understood english well enough to be in one of the general classes. perhaps there are even small groups of ESL students for different languages.

i don't know. whatever. the point is that near is not in mello's class to start with, and mello feels some amount of pity towards near. not because of the ESL thing lmao (i imagine mello had to learn english when he first arrived as well) but because of all near's near-ish traits. honestly, i don't tend to think of mello as having been a particularly nice child to the other orphans, even pre-rivalry, but near's scrawniness + health problems + social isolation i think on some level prompts a small protective streak in mello. he's this small, sad-looking, lonesome child, and mello is the first and only person he likes and trusts. in an unpublished bury us both companion piece i have their first meeting occur while near is hiding from roger and mello lies on her behalf, then shows her another hiding place. actually. damn i should post that. can't remember why i haven't.

i vary somewhat on how close they were as children depending on what dynamic i want to go for, but i tend to think there was at least some care & friendship there. the basis of their friendship, i imagine, is that mello feels older and wiser and cooler and stronger than near, and gains a sense of importance and security from near relying on him. this implodes horribly when near is moved up into his class level and starts besting him in every subject. so begins the rivalry. so ends their friendship. i do tend to imagine mello would intervene on near's behalf if he were ever being physically bullied / threatened, but they're never close like they were before again, because mello leaves before they can both mature and grow enough to sort anything out. except in AUs where that doesn't happen, which are my roman empire.

there are a few reasons i like this general sort of setup best for my own works. for one, having mello arrive first means that he got to experience, for however long or short a time period, being the golden child of his class. i think having this sense of specialness and accomplishment would make near beating him all the more painful. i could get way into mello's self-worth problems here but instead i'll just say: mello believes himself worthless and needs to be The Best in order to prove to himself that he's good enough at all. which has never actually worked for him, but, you know. i also like them having been friends prior to the rivalry because it resonates better for the sorts of dynamics i like best, and twists the knife a little from near's side. mello cared for him and looked after him, once, but now he sees near as his enemy. ough.

wow they make me bonkers!

[bitemevanitas]

VNC shit post 'cause i'm in class, suffering from borderline near-death-experience boredom.

i wrote this during my interpreting class, because we were translating a text called "interview with a mime", and that basically sparked the idea haha

anyway

Vanitas did not want to go shopping.

This was not surprising, really. He never wanted to do anything that involved mundane effort, unless it served his own interests. And even then, he preferred to make someone else do the hard part.

Which was why Dante was here.

“Why are we even buying ink and paper?” the redhead asked, slouching dramatically beside Vanitas, as they strolled through the streets of Paris. “I didn't know you could write.”

“I always write,” Vanitas shot back. He flipped his coat in a way that suggested he expected it to billow impressively. It didn’t. “How else do you think I conduct my research?”

Dante snorted. “I thought you just stole notes from actual scholars.”

“That too,” Vanitas admitted.

The errand run was simple. Find high-quality ink. Buy fine paper. Let Dante carry it all. A flawless plan. A perfect plan.

Except for this one teensy-tiny problem.

Vanitas had a shadow.

A silent shadow.

Dante noticed first.

Vanitas, however, was too busy lamenting the act of having to engage in common labor to see the man in stark black-and-white attire, following their every move with a sort of eerie precision.

The mime.

It had started when they passed a street performance on Rue de Rivoli. The performer had been entertaining a small crowd when something about Vanitas caught the mime’s attention.

And so, the mimicry began.

Every hand wave Vanitas made? Copied.

Every smug tilt of his chin? Imitated.

And Vanitas?

Blissfully unaware.

Dante, on the other hand, was having the time of his life.

“Hey, Quack,” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady as they approached a small paper shop. “You ever feel like someone’s… watching you?”

“Obviously,” Vanitas huffed, sweeping a hand through his hair. “People admire me all the time. I have a certain je ne sais quoi that naturally attracts attention.”

Behind him, the mime performed the same hair flip. The man had significantly shorter hair, but that didn't stop him.

Dante wheezed.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

Vanitas shot him a look. “What, are you paranoid now? What’s next? You gonna start covering mirrors in your house to avoid seeing your own reflection?”

“I don’t have any mirrors.”

Vanitas blinked. “What? Why?”

“Because I don’t need some fancy piece of glass to remind me I look amazing.”

“God, you’re stupid.”

“Right back at you, Quack.”

As they continued their errand, Dante did nothing to alert Vanitas to the silent menace trailing them.

Right at the paper shop, Vanitas inspected a stack of parchment with an air of practiced importance. Only the best for taking his notes, after all.

“Hm,” he mused, tapping his chin. “This will do.”

Behind him, the mime copied the motion by tapping his chin.

Dante had to physically turn away to hide his laughter.

At the counter, Vanitas haggled with the shopkeeper, quickly proclaiming daylight robbery at the price of fine ink. The mime behind him performed the same theatrical gestures, silently protesting alongside him.

Dante nearly bit into his own hand to quiet down.

By the time they left the shop, Vanitas was still grumbling about being “swindled by the ink cartel,” completely oblivious to the silhouette trailing them.

Dante, wiping tears from his eyes, clapped him on the back. “You know what, Quack? This might be the best day of my life.”

“Stupéfiant,” Vanitas dead-panned. “At least someone is benefiting from my suffering.”

At that exact moment, the mime struck a pose behind him, hand on his hip, mimicking Vanitas’ plagued expression.

Dante couldn’t take it anymore.

He lost it. Full-blown laughter. The kind that doubled him over, making him clutch his stomach, gasping for air.

Vanitas turned to stare. “Are you okay?”

Dante tried to speak. Couldn’t. Just waved weakly behind Vanitas, who still did not turn around.

The mime struck a final pose—a flourish of the wrist, a smooth head tilt, an exaggerated walk away into the crowd.

Vanitas frowned. “What’s so funny?”

Dante, barely holding it together, wiped at his eyes and straightened.

“Nothing,” he lied. “Just… you.”

Vanitas scowled. “Why are you being weird? Did you drink my ink?? Salard bête.” He rolled his eyes, still completely unaware of the performance he had unknowingly starred in.

Dante, on the other hand, would find himself laughing at this display again throughout the day.

..i headcanon that this actually did happen, but probably a while back, when Dante and Vanitas were a bit younger.

•

•

•

[shinx-stardust]

For the ATOF au: It your characters could wish for anything via wish craft what would they wish for?

Ooooo okay this one. I like this one. Lets me go super deep into my lil guy's heads.

So short answer: Claude wishes to know how to help more people and Isa wishes for nothing*

Elaboration under the cut! (I promise you if you like this AU, please read the elaborations for Isa's sake)

*technically

Claude. Claude Claude Claude. I think for her I'm really leaning into "prickly and a bit of a bitch but means well" angle so definitely not something like world peace. She seems to me like the sort of person who would want, not for everyone to be helped, but to have the strength to help everyone. Physical and metaphorical. I think the biggest difference between her and Isa is emotional intelligence, so I think she'd make a wish to lean into that. Probably "I wish I knew how to help more people." And then the Universe plops her in a psych class and she is Not Happy.

Now Isa is a Fascinating answer.

So first of all, we have to consider what he'd want. He's got everything, after all. He's in a canonical polycule (because yes we made Isafloop/Sloopis/whatever you wanna call it canon) and he's very happy. He lives in a House, so he's allowed to be as smart as he wants to be. So what does he want? What does Isabeau wish for?

You see. Siffrin and Loop. Are fucking idiots. Who can't communicate. And Isabeau is nothing if not driven by his compassion and affection for those around him. So he accidentally wishes to understand why his partners are like this (with the communication issues and clingness and all).

And I mean. If this means that he's completely normal except sometimes he gets flashbacks of things he can't possibly have known. Then I guess he at least understands why Siffrin has attachment issues or why Loop is just. Like That.

Of course this is a hypothetical so neither Claude nor Isa actually get their wishes! Don't worry, there's no actual Isa having flashbacks! (Mostly because I do not want to ask and also like. What would I do with that. That's useless to me and would also be overwritten for most of the AU that Isa features in.) So it's just a fun thought experiment to explore their characters!

@cordysys

[meraki-yao]

RWRB Movie Analysis: Henry's Seclusion and Perception-Part 2

A little follow-up of this post after I realized something while watching Henry flinch after Alex tried to hold his hand during their Paris date.

This is more up to interpretation but in the same way Henry was isolated in a space without any sort of moral support during the week after the email leaks while Alex wasn’t, I think the same could be possibly said with their view on public displays of affection.

I’m gonna preface by saying that even in the RWRB Movie verse, both UK and USA are evidently mostly LGBT+ friendly. Alex’s US kind of goes without saying, while for Henry, given the sheer amount of people that ended up coming to support him all across the country, I think the same could be said for his UK.

So given that their big environment is LGBT friendly, the difference here is their own circles.

Before President Claremont was elected, Alex was just like any of us, as he put it himself, “an anonymous working class kid”. His socializing circle wasn’t really limited. On top of that both of his parents are democrats. Even before he figured out his own bisexuality, he was definitely exposed to LGBT communities and individuals, colourful queer people who showed off their gender, sexuality and relationship/partner proudly. Besides, from his interaction with Nora, his mom, even Henry during the NYE party, Alex is clearly a physically affectionate person to begin with. He is used to displays of affection, and has see queer public displays of affection.

So when he starts to fall for Henry (which I firmly believed started properly since the state dinner), he doesn’t really register displays of affection as something to be hidden despite now being in a homosexual relationship. This aspect is not that different in his mind. The only times we see Alex really make an effort to conceal it is when they want to… do dirty things, like the polo match (Matthew/Prime release the full scene please) and the DNC hotel visit, which in any case is something that one would make effort to hide even for a bit.

Look at the movie again. Alex reaches out to hold Henry’s hand in Paris, Henry flinches. Alex steps forward to kiss Henry at the airstrip after the night in the V&A, Henry stops him, even if it’s private airstrip with only Henry’s staff. The one sentence Alex said that sent Henry spiralling and trying to break things off was “We could walk through Austin holding hands, and it won’t even matter if anyone sees us.” (which is one of my favourite lines in the book by the way, granted used in a different situation) Alex finds public displays of affection towards Henry very natural.

Henry doesn’t.

However much he loves touching and kissing Alex in private behind closed door throughout the entirety of their relationship, he was never comfortable, or confident for them in public settings, even if there’s actually no one except their own professional secret service/ personal staff there.

And I think one of the contributing reasons is unlike Alex, he never really got to see queer people be openly proud of their identity and partners.

Henry, as the prince, has his social circle and travels limited. You’re not gonna see him on the subway or walking through Trafalgar Square. He’s not gonna be able to walk the streets and just see queer citizens out and about the way Alex did. Given the context clues in the movie, I’m guessing he’s limited to causes the crown wants to serve (veterans, climate, diplomacy, which all have their own values as social issues but doesn’t suit Henry) and unlike the royals in our world (yes I pay some attention to the irl royal family) he couldn’t even choose topics that interest him, that he wants to serve, like arts, LGBT, and mental health (there’s a sequel idea!!! Henry getting to choose how to use his title for causes he’s part of and care about), plus it’s clear his family, the king at least, had no interest in getting involved with LGBT issues, so he didn’t have any chance to approach the community while on duty either. Considering his grandfather warned him against pursuing relationships when he was 18, he probably was forced into some sense of shame or fear regarding any possibility of having a public relationship, which was also part of his argument during the Kensington confrontation. Seeing as Nick and Matthew decided Paris was Henry’s first time with someone he actually had feelings for, I’m guessing past hookups in said “English Boarding School” were done out of sexual frustration and some degree of rebellion, but even then it was more on the sexual side instead of anything truly affectionate, and that was still extremely secretive with stacks of NDAs.

So on Henry’s part, he was secluded in a almost forcefully heteronormative environment, never really got to see people like him in real life, in front of his eyes (reading queer history and news about LGBT rights is very different from seeing it yourself), and was told that this was something to be ashamed about, something he can’t do, something impossible. That’s why he never felt confident enough to ask for touch or touch Alex in anywhere remotely public. (He was drunk at the karaoke, and I think most of the Texas vacation was on the Claremont-Diaz’s private property, so those don’t count)

Until the palace pride protest, where thousand of people like him came to storm the palace with their rainbow flags and banners, their support, and their own identities display.

Faces with this massive display of queer pride right in front of him, Henry, maybe for the first time, sees so many people like them, and he sees that it’s okay for him to be gay, that there is nothing selfish, shameful, repulsive or unacceptable about who he is and who he loves. They’re here for him. They’re just like him. They’re proud of it. They show it.

So this time, in front of his family, a window away from the outside world, it’s his turn to ask for Alex’s hand, held between his. He’s finally confident enough in everything so tell Alex, through a wet smile, “I love you.”

Both of them look out, at the sea of colourful love and pride. Alex, who has seen this many times before in his life, but probably the first time he sees this knowing he’s part of that sea. Henry, who gets to see the crowd be proud of something he’s tried so long to conceal and hide.

Henry can be proud of his sexuality too.

And he shows it, on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, with thousands of people cheering for him and his boyfriend. 

[rythms-of-synthax]

Fall of 2024 - Goals 🍁

Okay! New season! Let's put that "summertime sadness" away and starting working on our goals! 💪

Now, before you start writing ten different areas of your life that you want to improve…stop! You're not setting goals, but failure.

I know you are enthusiastic, but calm down a little. Because you have school and as sad as it might sound to you, school takes a lot of time. And if you are on this blog, you can't afford bad grades.

So let's set manageable goals. I want you to choose three things in your life that you will focus on the next three months.

And if you are still in school, your academic life should be one of them.

For me, those three areas are:

Education (my grades, knowledge and Olympiad work)

Physical health (my diet, workout schedule and daily steps)

Skills - literature and communication, maybe psychology (writing on this blog, writing poetry, attending all sorts of events where I have the chance to meet people who work in the field, volunteering)

Some other examples might be your financial situation, your mental health, your social skills, network, hobbies or one important project.

This fall, I want to focus on getting fit and healthy, working for the Olympiad and learning about literature, communication and psychology while also getting to know more people (my network).

Now that you know what are the areas in your life that you want to work on, think about how you will take action. Autumn has three months. At this point, you only need to focus on September.

After each one of the things above, write what you'll do to reach your goals.

For my education:

I will study every day using effective techniques

I will talk to my teacher and make a plan for the Olympiad that I will follow

I will do my homework as soon as I can

For my physical health:

I will start working out 6 days a week again: three times a week weights, three times a week cardio (dancing, swimming and maybe running)

I will walk to school and go on walks when I can

I will follow a healthy diet (I will post the rules soon)

For my skills (and network):

I will make a schedule for my posts once school starts and write consistently

I will have the courage to take initiative and start conversations

I will attend events related to my interests (at least one this month)

Note: everything will be done after I get back from my second trip. I am leaving the city today and I will return on Friday. My school year starts on the 9th of September and this is the day when I will actually start studying and everything else. Next week, all I want is to have fun! <3

They might seem like a lot, I know. But you won't actually do all these every day.

For instance, I will have days when I will just work for the Olympiad, study, go to my dance class and write a post (except for school and eating healthy). Or I will have an event and do some homework, maybe go to the gym after this.

You have to take each day as it is. And stay consistent.

If this is too much for you, choose two areas instead of three.

Focusing just on your grades and health, for example, is way better than having five different tasks on your plate daily and ditching them all. 👌

Hope this helps! Keep going! And have a loooovely autumn! 💖 Rya