#we can discuss specs but

[kazumist]

SWEETLY BAKED WITH LOVE .ᐟ

✩ — in which zayne finds himself in a problem with his older patients relentlessly introducing and telling him about their daughters and granddaughters to him because he's single. what's a good way to shoo them off? perhaps wearing a keyring and fake dating your friend would do the trick!

✩ — includes: zayne x f!baker!reader. fluff. fake dating trope (not executed properly sorry i dont think i gave it justice), not much drama and confession scene is a bit boring imo :/, pace is a bit messy, based of that one part in the cdrama "the best thing", cw: food mentioned (baked sweets and wine), they're both idiots in love, wc: 7,166. i went insane Yes so what.

✩ — note: hi babes @koiukiy-o it's finally finished like can u believe it. i finished it in one fucking day initially but i woke up at 6am in the morning today (its around half past 7am by the time posting this) and added a bit more.

for zayne, being a young, famous, and favored doctor in akso hospital isn’t as pleasing as it sounds. only because the majority of his older patients try to match him up with their daughters with every given chance during their appointments scheduled with him. 

at first, it wasn’t all that serious. zayne even initially thought that maybe elderlies these days have started to grow accustomed to sharing stories of their children—of their daughters, specifically, who are coincidentally in the same age range as him. perhaps it was a new thing; yeah, that was probably it.

until the introductions became more frequent. 

ONE: AS SURPRISING AS A SUDDEN BLUEBERRY CHEESECAKE AT YOUR DOOR.

from a father whose daughter is a successful certified public accountant (CPA) to a mother whose daughter is currently a cardiology resident in a nearby hospital, the names and positions of these women have started to jumble in his head. all zayne could do is take a deep breath and smoothly deflect the questions of his patients regarding his current relationship status.

“dr. zayne, you know, i have this daughter..." here we go again. zayne tunes out whatever the old woman was saying, nodding every now and then to convince her that he was interested. the old woman’s daughter was something of a business owner, though it’s not like zayne is actually paying that much attention to the description his patient was giving him. his focus is solely on the results that are in his hands.

“do you have someone special in your life right now, dr. zayne?” zayne pauses; the shuffling of the lab reports in his hands stopped as he processed the question. 

does he?

zayne doesn’t think that he does.

he has a few people that he cherishes in his life, yes. but does he think of himself settling down with someone by his side? well… not really—not yet, at least. zayne hasn’t given it that much thought himself. “before i answer that question, let’s discuss what your results have given us…” this method of zayne changing the subject works like a charm every time he does it. and with a blink of an eye, the old woman forgot her question and left after getting her new prescriptions from him.

zayne leans back on his chair, taking off his specs and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. he takes a deep breath, until his peace is interrupted by a knock at his door. the old woman should’ve been the last one; yvonne just came in and told him so not so long ago. he sits up right, fixing his posture as his professionalism starts to take over.

yet when the door creaks open to reveal you, zayne’s shoulders relax as he sits back once again.

maybe his peace wasn’t interrupted after all.

“what brings you here?” he asks you, eyeing you suspiciously as you’re obviously hiding something from him behind your back. “i come bearing gifts—one sweet little blueberry cheesecake from your favorite bakery! tadaaaa!” you say, revealing the little box to zayne and settling it on his desk, hoping he’d also envision the imaginary jazz hands you were doing before putting a plastic fork on top of it for him to use.

zayne has a sweet tooth and that’s practically common knowledge to you. and with you owning a bakery... well, let’s just say that the youngest heart surgeon in linkon city plays his favorites when it comes to shops that sell sweet pastries. 

a smile cracks onto his face as he sees the box. gently removing the fork on top and opening the box, zayne inspects the blueberry cheesecake before him as if contemplating if he should eat it now or save it when he gets home. “you don’t have to eat it now, silly. i just wanted to drop it off before your work ends today,” you say.

“no, it’s alright. i’ll eat it now. the toppings could get ruined when i travel back home.”

as he starts taking a few bites, you propped your chin onto your palm and lean on it, staring at the sweet dessert that’s slowly being consumed right in front of you. “sooo, do you have someone in your life right now, dr. zayne?” you asked him, putting emphasis on the way you called him as a sign of mockery.

zayne deadpans at your question, suddenly stopping himself from getting another bite. his expression is clearly conveying a message to you wordlessly: are you being serious right now? but zayne just sighs and continues on getting another bite before replying. “how did you know about that?”

“i heard you two through the door. and when your last patient came out—she was a delight, by the way, greeting me so kindly—she suddenly asked me if i was your girlfriend! i obviously didn’t answer her properly and good thing yvonne came in to save the day and escort her out of the cardiology department.” you told him.

the sweetness of the small piece of blueberry glides across his senses as he listens to you. zayne finds himself sighing deeply for what seems like the nth today, twirling the fork in his hand as he thinks. he doesn’t like burdening this problem of his with you, especially when you have nothing to do with it. “seems like you’re thinking about a lot there. are your thoughts being consumed by the numerous names that got mentioned to you?” you teased.

“i beg your pardon?”

“i was only kidding! you looked so deep in thought there. is everything alright?”

zayne doesn’t know either. he doesn’t know how long he could keep deflecting and changing the topics when his patients try to pry into this part of his life. he has a soft spot for his patients, sure, and he’s satisfied with his job. though zayne didn’t know that he would be signing up for this when he became a cardiac surgeon.

“yes, my apologies. i seemed to have spaced out for a moment there.”

you glance over him, observing his mannerisms and his habits. whenever zayne twirls or plays with the item in his hand, it means he’s thinking. whenever he sits back on his chair, that means he’s relaxed. yet you never seen him space out—not until now, at least—and that’s what’s different.

odd.

but you didn’t push the topic further, as you’re well aware that zayne isn’t the type to express himself so freely. and as if a light bulb literally just gained it’s light inside your brain, the gears inside your head started turning as you suddenly got an idea. “i think i just got the greatest idea of my life.” you asked him.

“and what would that be?” he asks back. should i be scared? he thinks.

“you’ll see! just you wait and look forward to the next time i’ll drop by and visit.” you flash him a grin as zayne finishes the last bit of the blueberry cheesecake.

TWO: AS ENTICING AS SIX MACARONS SERVED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU.

the next time you saw each other, you didn’t visit zayne. zayne visited you, striding towards you sitting behind the counter. today was a saturday. and during saturdays, you open your shop a bit later than your usual opening time during weekdays. 

seeing the doctor visit your shop sometimes gives you a pinch of nostalgia coursing through you. you never would’ve expected to form a connection with a praised doctor in linkon in your life. but you don’t really have any regrets about it. you enjoy the surgeon’s company and he seems to enjoy yours.

“and what brings you here today, dr. zayne?” you say, greeting him as his eyes scan the pastries displayed before him. “please, refrain from the formalities. do you have anything new to recommend?” he replies.

your gaze follows his as you join him in looking for a pastry to offer. “hmm… oh! i know! you could taste test a new macaron flavor i’ve been trying. would you mind taking a seat while i got get them for you?” zayne nods before finding himself a seat and you take that as your cue to start running towards the kitchen located at the inner part of your establishment. 

when you got out, you joined him at the two-seater table he decided on, sitting across from him. “lately, i’ve been indulging myself in making macarons, right? and i wanted a different flavor for a change so i paired two ingredients together! take a bite and guess what it is.” you said, pushing the box of macarons towards him.

zayne inspects the macarons in front of him, attempting to deduce the flavor. it has a light brown color, with the filling having a deeper shade of brown. could it be two types of chocolate? he thinks. 

“staring at it will get you nowhere if you don’t actually taste it, you know.”

he snaps out of his thoughts at your words. he awkwardly coughs into his fist, avoiding your gaze. you stifled a laugh at him but zayne noticed it, feeling his ears grow hot. “ahem. pardon me for that. i’ll taste them now.” he says, grabbing a piece of the pastry. as soon as he takes a bite, the familiar taste of coffee beans (perhaps roasted?) and nutella washes over his tongue.

you were right; this was a different flavor that you don’t see often. “it’s delicious. were the coffee beans roasted? or were they grounded?” a small gasp escapes your lips at his question. “it was roasted, yeah! i’m surprised you noticed that; i didn’t think anyone would.”

“i felt the small chunks of the coffee beans as i chewed. and nutella as a filling balances the taste of the beans. i’d say it’s a good product to endorse.”

“really?”

zayne hums in agreement, finishing the macaron in his hand before grabbing another one from the box. “i recall that you haven’t told me your “idea” yet since the last time we saw each other.” he says, before taking another bite.

“oh! sorry about that; i keep forgetting to stop by akso hospital lately. but worry not—i didn’t forget about my idea!” you replied, fishing something out of your pocket. it was a keyring, though it wasn’t that obvious at first glance. “your idea is... a keyring?” he asks.

“wrong, the keyword is ring!” you say, grabbing his hand to check if it fits on his ring finger.

you seemed unaware of the effect of your actions, suddenly taking zayne by surprise by your sudden touch. he feels the cold metal wrap around the ring finger of his dominant hand. “look, it’s a perfect fit! just remember to always have it on, especially when you have appointments and surely those introductions would be gone, right?”

zayne inspects the keyring around his finger, flipping his hand as he takes it in. “i never would’ve expected that a keyring could act as a marriage ring.” he states. “m-marriage ring?!” you exclaimed. i never really thought of it as that. you thought, mentally sweatdropping. “is it not supposed to be?” zayne’s gaze at you shows obvious confusion. “well… i guess it could serve as that. i just thought of it as some fake promise ring that you could use at most.”

“the purpose is the same. i don’t think it matters what it stands for—the main purpose of this is to show my older patients that i’m taken, right?”

“yup! it’s nothing much, really, but i feel bad for what you have to endure when you have your appointments. do you think it would work?” you reply.

“we just have to play our cards right and then we’ll see.”

“mhm! wait—we?”

“yes, we. did i say something wrong?” there he goes again with the confused look.

“what do you mean… we?” this better not be what i’m thinking. you hoped, bracing yourself for whatever bomb he was about to drop.

but just as your luck to that runs out, zayne replies. “i thought we were both going to be wearing keyrings?” fuck, i knew it. you thought. inside your head, you can envision yourself on all fours, punching the ground as you also try to think of something—anything to reply with. 

“but you’re the only one who has this... conflict. what use would it be if i also wore one?”

before zayne could even realize it, he already took a step and started sailing in dangerous, uncharted waters. “you told me a few times, including the time that you last visited, that my patients have wondered and asked if you were my significant other. wouldn’t it be more convincing if we were to uphold that sentiment?”

you swore you could feel your soul drain itself out of your body.

“so you want us to... fake date, basically? so we could stop your older patients from introducing their endless amount of daughters and granddaughters? did i get that right?” you ask again, just to be sure if what you’re hearing is actually right and real.

“yes, you’re quite spot-on.” 

“you’re lucky that i have two keyrings by coincidence.”

well, it’s not like it’s going to be anything serious. and it’s also beneficial for me because they also pester me with their questions every time i visit. the offer is way a bit enticing for it’s own good—but everything should be fine.

with a soft sigh and one macaron left on the box (you and zayne were snacking on them as you had your discussion), you spoke again. “you’ve got yourself a deal. you better start wearing that keyring, dr. zayne.”

“i don’t think you should be calling me that when we’re supposed to portray ourselves like a couple.” he remarked.

you choke on your own saliva at his statement. “w-we’ll talk about the other details another day! how does the next time i visit—which i actually promise to do now—sound?” cursing yourself for stammering (but how could you not when he caught you so off guard?), you try your best not to embarrass yourself any further. “that sounds good.”

as the last macaron on the box you served gets consumed, you find yourself securing a peculiar deal with a certain heart surgeon.

THREE: AS SOUR AS A BITE OF STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE MELTING ON YOUR TONGUE.

staying true to your promise, you visited zayne a few days after his visit to your bakery. you had the same keyring wrapped around your ring finger, hoping to find zayne the same. “are you busy?”

he glances at you from his monitor and you notice that his shoulders relax again when he realizes it was you in the doorway. “what pastry do you have in store for me this time?” he asks you as you approach to have yourself a seat on the small couch.

“sadly there’s no pastry today; i accidentally forgot to grab one from the bakery’s fridge before i left but next time i’ll bring you some strawberry shortcake!”

“i’ll take note of that.”

zayne then continues to speak. “about where we stopped our discussion last time... would it be okay with you to completely drop with the formalities in general? you don’t have to call me dr. zayne, especially when we’re in the hospital.”

“what do i call you then?”

“zayne would be just fine. almost no one calls me that here.”

“zayne, huh… zayne, zayne… zayne.” you repeat his name to get yourself used to it. “alright then, doct—i mean, zayne.”

he nods at you in acknowledgement as you shift your gaze at his dominant hand. surely enough, you saw that keyring on his finger. “i see you’re wearing the keyring. did it work so far?” you ask him. “actually, yes, it did. the introductions lessened and i found myself at peace with most of my appointments today.”

“so my plan does work. huh, i never would’ve thought.” zayne takes this as an opportunity to reply. “how about you? did your keyring work?” 

“not yet, i guess? when i arrived, yvonne told me that your appointments and checkups were done for the day. so i didn’t really encounter any of your patients today. maybe next time.”

-

zayne visited your bakery during the weekend again. although unfortunately, you weren’t there. one of your employees said that you were busy with an errand today so zayne just got a slice of yet another blueberry cheesecake on the go and quickly made his leave.

(he doesn’t see why he would stay when he isn’t sure of what time you’d return.)

-

the next time you and zayne saw each other, you had forgotten to bring the strawberry shortcake you told him back then. but what did happen is that you encountered a few familiar patients of zayne’s. they were all women who looked like they’re in their mid-sixties in a group of three. they were chatting nearby the entrance to zayne’s office when they spotted you.

and apparently, one of them recognized you.

“hello, dear. you’re the one who brings dr. zayne snacks, right? i remember seeing you here before.” she says, approaching you. “ah, yes! that would be me.” you let out a soft chuckle at her. “how kind of you to do so! are you perhaps his girlfriend?” another woman asks. the woman who approached you (who introduced herself as violet), shushes her friend. “don’t throw sudden questions at the lady! sorry about her, dear.”

the third woman in their group suddenly perks up and points at your hand. “look violet, her ring looks familiar... where have i seen it before, i wonder?” as soon as she said that, all three of the women’s attention was now all on your hand with the keyring on it. 

“isn’t that like the ring on dr. zayne’s hand?”

there was then a moment of silence before they all realized what that question meant. 

after escaping the clutches of their neverending queries (that you tried to answer as much as you could, and you never could’ve escaped without yvonne’s help of escorting them out), you finally got to knock on zayne’s office.

“come in.” his voice sounds muffled through the door.

once you settle down yourself inside, you let out a huge and relieved sigh. “was there a commotion outside? i heard multiple voices through the door, one of them being yours.” zayne asks.

“ah, well it turns out that your patients are really observant. did you know i had to make up some fake story on the spot of how we met?”

“is that so? do you mind telling me what this story is? they might ask about it the next time they come for a checkup.” he replies. 

the actual story of how you and zayne met wasn’t really that far off from the one you told the small group of old ladies. 

(it was dusk when you encountered zayne on the sidewalk; you accidentally bumped into him and he noticed you were seemingly in a rush. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! i wasn’t looking where i was running.” zayne waves his hand dismissively. “it’s alright, are you hurt?” 

“not at all—” you checked the time with your wrist watch. “crap! uhm, excuse me, sir. do you know if there’s a flower shop nearby here? i’m in a terrible need of dried flowers at the moment.” you ask him.

zayne thought about it for a moment, trying to recall if there is one. he then tells you the directions to the flower shop he has seen in the area and you immediately thanked him. “thank you, thank you so much! feel free to drop by the cozy oven. my treat for helping me! thank you again, kind sir!” you say before running off in the direction he told you.

that was first time you met him and you were sure that was also the first time he met you.

but what if it isn’t?)

“oh, you know, i just told them some silly old cliche where i bumped into you while holding two bouquets of flowers and decided to treat you to some coffee as an apology. nothing that out of the ordinary, really.”

“noted. they’ll probably ask me about which bouquet it was next time.” this time it was his turn to let out a sigh.

“oh yeah! one of my staff members said you visited the bakery last weekend. sorry, i was busy that time. my friend ordered a cake for this event and i was also invited to it so i had to leave the job of handling the bakery to my employees.” you told him. “it’s alright, don’t fret.”

that day ended with zayne offering you a ride home.

-

the next few times you and zayne were together after that, you swear something was changing.

you never thought zayne could be the touchy type; he grabs ahold of your hand, going as far as interlocking your fingers together. hell, he even puts his hand on your waist when you’re walking in public.

you knew what you were getting into when you both agreed on that deal. but it’s just so... strange. scary, if you think about it.

how is he so good at this? no, more like—

why does it feel so real?

zayne is an attractive man, and that was certainly a fact. smart, rich, handsome, and well-mannered—he’s even soft spoken for goodness sake! that man has got it all, which is no wonder why some of his patients would want to set up their daughter with him. any woman would be lucky to experience what it’s like to be loved by him.

but is this what it feels like?

perhaps.

that was all you could say—after all, this is all just a fake setup so you both could shoo away his patients.

yet if it was all fake, why were your faces suddenly so close to one another right now? your lips were close to brushing against each other; one small nudge and you’d find out what it was like to kiss zayne.

the sudden phone ring echoing somewhere in the room snaps the both of you out of it.

as you both pull away out of surprise, zayne picks up the phone. “this is zayne speaking.” he says.

you just sat there on his couch, wondering many things.

it’s just a fake stunt. don’t get sidetracked, (y/n).

but why is it that whenever you remind yourself that it is fake, an uncertain pang hits your chest? you never could tell zayne this; he might think you suddenly have a heart condition and be concerned (and you wouldn’t be surprised because he is someone who is under cardiology).

this could be nothing. no, scratch that; it is nothing. zayne is an impossible man to reach, and he is only a friend to you.

nothing more, nothing less.

-

the next time you visited zayne at akso hospital, you finally had a slice of strawberry shortcake stored safely in a box for him.

you were still distracted by the time you two almost kissed, but you couldn’t let zayne know that for obvious reasons.

at this point in your fake dating plan, his patients are all convinced that you both are together, finding it cute and squealing in awe when you see each other in the hallway where his office is located. you were surprised at how well you and zayne were pulling this off. 

“special delivery for dr. zayne?” you say, peeking through the door to check if he’s busy. “and what did i order this time?” he asks back. you take that as your cue to step inside. “one slice of a promised and long overdue strawberry shortcake!” you told him, setting down the small box and another plastic fork on top of the box.

“about time you remembered.” he says, taking the fork and opening the box. the familiar scent of strawberry shortcake then circulates around the two of you, which made zayne take a bite almost immediately. “are you planning on visiting the bakery this weekend?” you then ask him.

zayne swallows before he speaks. “i have thought about it, yes. and i was actually planning to ask you about your weekend plans today actually.”

“oh? why?”

“i was just wondering if you’d like to make plans with me since i’m usually off-duty during weekends.”

you become a bit awkward as soon as zayne says that. and zayne, being as observant as ever, obviously noticed it. “is there something wrong? it’s okay if you’re busy.” you waved your hands at him, “no, no! it’s not like that. well, kinda i guess? ugh, it’s just that…”

“i may or may not have agreed to go on a blind date this weekend.”

if zayne hadn’t listened that carefully, he would’ve missed it. but no, he caught every single word that slipped out of you. the sour taste of the sliced strawberry, along with the spongy texture of the cake, suddenly felt like sand in zayne’s mouth. and as ironic as that, he suddenly feels iffy as soon as you say that—like he was also sour. “is that so… that’s alright. you should enjoy your plans instead.”

“wait. you’re not mad?”

am i mad? zayne mentally asked himself. he doesn’t think he is, but he does somewhat feel disturbed by the idea of you going on a date with another man, and that doesn’t feel right to him either. “i’m not. why would i be mad?” a lie.

you stiffen at your seat, trying to come up with an explanation. that question just slipped off of your tongue; you didn’t mean to ask that. “well, uhm.. you know, because we’re in this fake dating thingy, i just thought it would be weird to you if i were to go see someone else and all that, yeah.”

“you said it yourself; this is all fake. so i’m not stopping you if you want to do that.”

ouch? why does his confirmation that it’s nothing serious get a kick to it? you thought. “really? okay then, thanks for letting me know.” 

zayne couldn’t shake off the sourness of the strawberry from his tongue. and the thing is—the strawberries that you use for your products aren’t even that sour. it was more sweet than sour in the first place. so why? why can’t he get the sourness off?

why does he suddenly feel so bitter at the thought of you seeing someone else?

the rest of the hour felt a bit suffocating after that.

FOUR: AS BLAND AS MISSING THE DELECTABLE TASTE OF YOUR COMPANY.

when the weekend rolled around, zayne didn’t visit your bakery. he didn’t find a need to because you weren’t there. he wasn’t close to your staff and he doesn’t really want to get close to them. and zayne isn’t that close with a lot of people in general, so he decided to spend his weekend at home.

he thinks about the conversation he had with you when you brought up the topic of having a blind date scheduled today.

and he still feels sour about that. he doesn’t know why. 

then he suddenly remembers the one time when he was so close to feeling your lips on his. zayne hoped that he wasn’t obvious but this moment had perhaps made him short circuit. your face was so close—he could take every little detail of your features with the distance.

but you just had to have this blind date today.

zayne feels even more sour after that.

he was a doctor, yes, but he obviously isn’t an expert in psychology or emotions. so as he unlocks his phone, he opens the web browser installed and types in the search bar.

now, jealousy was a foreign concept for zayne. 

he stares blankly at the results his search shows him, a part of him refusing to believe that what he was feeling was jealousy and the rational part of him telling himself that if this isn’t it, what else could it be?

but another question puts him in a dilemma. why is he even jealous in the first place? 

of course you can go see other people. he doesn’t have the right to be mad about that. zayne didn’t own you, and you didn’t own zayne. if he were in your position, you’d just let him go on that blind date.

yet the idea of you falling in love with another makes him uneasy.

oh.

oh.

zayne wasn’t stupid. he didn’t need to drown himself in any more thoughts on this matter to realize what was happening to him.

he was falling.

falling for you, to be specific.

and there’s nothing that could help him.

-

being forced into a blind date never goes well. and you swore that you'd strangle your friend who forced you into this in the first place.

“so, what do you do for a living?” your date asks before sipping from his glass of red wine. “oh, i’m a baker. i run a bakery, actually. it’s located nearby akso hospital.” 

“is that so? what do you usually bake?”

“i bake all sorts of things! from cakes to macarons—“ you pause when you say macarons. you suddenly recall the day when you asked zayne to taste test your new macaron flavor. you cleared your throat to regain composure.

“sorry about that; something just came to mind. but like i said, i bake a whole lot of cakes and pastries. i like to experiment with new flavors, you see. what about you?”

“oh, i’m currently a resident at akso hospital actually!” the man before you says. “really? under which department?” you ask him. “cardiology. i always found the heart a fascinating thing to study.”

you tried to hold yourself back from choking on your wine. “c-cardiology, you say…?” hearing the term come out of your date’s mouth has something uncomfortable bubbling up inside of you. your mind finds itself drifting back to zayne—

what am i even thinking? get a grip (y/n)! you’re on a date for fuck’s sake!

“mhm. one of my mentors is really nice, a bit cold but i know he’s just really like that. his name is dr. zayne, by the way.” and as if the universe is mocking you right now, your date just had to say that his mentor was zayne of all people.

“i think i’ve heard of him once or twice, yeah. he’s a good heart surgeon, right?”

as time seemed to pass by, you could feel yourself feeling more distracted. when the waiter came to ask if you’d like any dessert, your mind immediately thought of zayne.

while looking through the dessert menu, you wondered if zayne would like what this restaurant is offering. what would zayne’s opinion be on this? 

and your date continues to speak, the sole fact that he’s a resident under zayne, was enough to sidetrack your mind towards him. 

zayne, zayne, zayne. this whole date has done nothing but remind you of the doctor.

by the time the date was over, you entered the door to your apartment complex (which is located above your bakery) and slid against the door as soon as you closed it.

removing your heels as you were on the floor, you let out a sigh. “what the fuck is going on with me tonight?” you asked no one in particular.

the date wasn’t even bad but nothing about it felt right for you. like there was something clearly wrong with the whole principle of you going on a blind date in the first place but you didn’t know what it was.

you try to recall what happened before the blind date happened, trying to see if something would have triggered your current state.

your recollection brings you to the time you told zayne about the blind date a few days ago. 

something felt off about him when you dropped the bomb on him that time. it’s as if something shifted in the air when you revealed your plans for the weekend to him.

“oh, god. you have got to be kidding me.” you facepalmed when the realization dawned upon you.

your thoughts were running. how could’ve i been so stupid? it was written all over my face in the first place! i like zayne. holy shit i actually—

but it all stops there when you then realize what you just said. 

-

you didn’t visit zayne after your blind date. and when he visits your bakery, you hide yourself from him in the kitchen (and you also told your employees to not spill a word about your actual whereabouts, making them form excuses on what you’re up to). 

simply to say, you were avoiding zayne.

it scared you. you didn’t know what to do with your new feelings, especially when the whole fake dating thing was still ongoing for the both of you. 

how can you keep faking it all up when everything just feels so real? when you couldn’t help but wonder if you’re still friends after everything you’ve done?

zayne: Are you going to visit today?

zayne: I miss getting my special delivery.

you stared at his message, trying to process it. why did he have to say it like that? what does he mean by that? you thought.

(y/n): sorry, i can’t. 

(y/n): i need to prioritize some cake orders for now. maybe next time.

zayne: Oh, alright then.

you know full well that there most probably won’t be a next time. you’ll just keep denying and deflecting as much as you can—and as long as you can.

however, zayne knew you were avoiding him and he most definitely didn’t need to be a genius to notice that. 

but he doesn’t know why. was it something that he did? were you alright? perhaps you haven’t been feeling well as of late. were you overworking yourself lately?

zayne thinks about the time you two almost kissed again. maybe he should’ve gone for it. maybe he shouldn’t have answered that goddamn phone call. maybe—

maybe he shouldn’t have let you go on that blind date.

your phone vibrates against the pocket of your apron. you pull it out to check the notification and go blank at the sender.

zayne: Have you been well?

zayne: We haven’t seen each other lately.

his clinic hours are not the same as of late. zayne got so used to you visiting him at akso—to seeing you in general—that it just feels... bland now that you’re not present.

zayne misses you. and he wonders if you miss him too.

FIVE: AS SWEET AS KNOWING THAT I WASN’T TOO LATE.

(before you bumped into zayne on the sidewalk, you two had actually met.

once in a cafe, and once in the grocery store... zayne had noticed that since you two lived in the same community, it was bound that you’d encounter each other a lot—although you don’t really seem to notice him.

when zayne met you in the grocery store, the first thing that he noticed about you was that your shopping cart was halfway filled with baking ingredients. there were at least three (or was it four?) dozen of eggs stacked, two packs of all-purpose flour, a small bottle of sprinkles (both the colorful and chocolate ones), and a whole lot more.

at first glance, any other person would ignore you. zayne would be one of them—he had no clue why he noticed you and your shopping cart. he was only in the aisle because it’s the way to where the bread was located.

that was the first time zayne sees you.

the second time he saw you, zayne encountered you in a cafe this time. weeks passed since he saw you while he was out for groceries and you had papers sprawled all over the small table in front of you. zayne didn’t really get a good look at them but he assumed that it was all sorts of cake design from the single glance he got to have.

wedding cakes, birthday cakes, anniversary cakes. there were a whole bunch of designs. perhaps you baked for a living.

again, at first glance, any other person would ignore you. and zayne would still be one of them—though would this become a lie because isn’t it strange that it has happened twice? not like there’s anything bad with noticing you. it’s just... out of his character, per se.

the third time zayne meets you, it was the time you also recall—the encounter on the sidewalk. now, what were the chances that zayne would meet you there that late afternoon? he didn’t know. 

and with that small conversation between the two of you happening, zayne’s assumption was correct. the baking ingredients, the cake designs, and now you telling him to visit your bakery—

maybe he should visit the cozy oven during the weekend.)

around three weeks have passed since you started ignoring him. you were surprised at how well you were doing so far. not like it was hard doing so. the real challenge was to ignore his texts and make yourself reply late. 

and when he visits the bakery, which is what’s going on right now.

it was almost nine in the evening when you finished closing up your bakery. you heard footsteps getting louder, signaling that someone is walking towards you. 

“there you are.” you knew that voice anywhere.

“zayne? what are you doing here at this hour?” you ask him out of surprise. “well, a certain someone seems to be hiding from me, so i thought it was time to change my strategy and do a surprise attack. it looks like it worked.”

“ah. sorry about that... work has been a bit busy. you know?” you take in zayne’s appearance before you, eyes slightly widening at the keyring that is still on his finger.

(how ironic because you were also wearing yours at the moment. your excuse would be “it was out of pure habit.”)

“so busy that even when i visit you hide yourself from me?”

he got you there. “i—no, no! it’s just that—“ zayne cuts you off with another question. “did i do something wrong?”

“what?”

“you heard me. (y/n), did i do something wrong? i understand that you’ve been busy but something feels different. like there’s something more to it than just you being busy.” he then says. why does he have to be always so observant?

the guilt of your decisions as of late started to eat you up inside. “i… i don’t know.”

“you don’t know?” zayne asks again.

“i mean, it’s not like i literally don’t know but it’s just... did we even do the right thing? you know, fake date and all of that.”

zayne could feel the unease creeping up on him with your question. “the plan worked, did it not?”

“no, zayne. what i mean is that did we do the right thing with fake dating in the first place? because for the love of god, we almost kissed! and—and we’re both old enough to realize that friends don’t just... kiss.”

“is this about your blind date a few weeks ago?” you don’t know what he means by that. because you never met up again with that blind date, telling him that as much as it was nice to know him, you’re not really interested in giving romance a whirl for now. 

you didn’t know what to answer to that. “so it is.” he then says. you wanted to say no, but no words came out of you. it was as if your lips felt like they were sewn closed. “i guess i was too late then.”

too late?

“wait—what do you mean too late?”

zayne’s look in his eyes confused you. you couldn’t decipher the emotions that were present in his gaze. “aren’t you still seeing your blind date nowadays?”

then it all made sense to you.

zayne thinks the reason you started avoiding him was probably because he thought you hit it off with your blind date. before you could answer his question, he speaks again. “to be honest with you, recently, especially during your absence, i have come to the realization that i like you, (y/n).”

wait. what?

too speechless to cut in, he continues. “i felt off when you first said that you agreed to that blind date of yours. i just brushed it off back then but later i realized that it was because i was jealous. i soon regretted not doing anything about it—and when you started ignoring me, i couldn’t help but think that maybe you didn’t want to visit me anymore in my office as a sign of respect to your new lover.” in other words, i missed you.

you try to process everything that he just came clean about. but there is only one highlight in everything he said—he likes you. zayne likes you.

and you like him too.

“first of all, i’m really sorry for ignoring you, zayne. i honestly only did it out of fear because i recently realized that i like you too.” zayne was about to speak up when you raised a hand to shush him. “let me finish first. i never met with my blind date again after our first meeting. i told him that i kindly told him that i didn’t want to try romance for now—though that was partially a lie because i only find myself wanting to try romance out with you.”

zayne also only got one highlight out of that—you like him too. that’s all that matters to him.

“so i wasn’t too late?” he then asks.

you take a few steps closer to him. “no, zayne. you’re just in time.”  zayne’s hands find themselves on your waist. “then can i kiss you?” you shoot him a playful glare. “are you sure a phone call isn’t going to interrupt us this time?” you then say, arms wrapping themselves around his neck.

“i’m sure.”

“then you can.”

and without hesitation, zayne leans in to capture your lips with his. he could feel you smiling in the kiss, and zayne savors the faint taste of your lippie—not minding that it might have smudged on his lips now.

when you both pulled away, you couldn’t help but giggle. zayne’s lips were covered in some of your tinted lip gloss. you reach out a hand to smudge it away before pecking him a quick kiss to his nose and asking him, “do you want to come inside? i have a new macaron flavor for you to taste test.”

“is that so? what is it this time?” he replies, hands not leaving your waist.

“salted caramel! but not the ones that are sweet; i made sure that this one actually has a salty kick to it!”

zayne definitely has a sweet tooth.

yet there’s nothing more sweet than knowing that you like him too.

[loveless-arobee]

Hey, aces, can we have a word?

I've seen a bunch of post venting about how sex is treated in this society by calling sex "unhygienic" or "dirty", or calling people who have sex "weird" or "disgusting".

I get the impulse to rant about how sex is pushed onto you. I do this about romance all the time!

But one thing you don't have to do for that is literally reuse homophobic talking points.

Sex is not unhygienic or dirty, as long as you practice proper hygiene and safe sex. I hope I don't have to explain to you in detail how this is just repeating homophobic talking points, especially against gay/queer men, right? The AIDS-crisis ringing a bell?

People who have sex aren't disgusting, freaks or weird. Even if you include AlloCisHets in that, the people you're mainly attacking with your words are queer people who have historically been (and even still are, in a lot of countries) murdered, assaulted, imprisioned and executed for having sex, and are even in more "accepting" countries where it's legal often still horribly mistreated. The AlloCisHet people don't care for what you have to say about how disgusting they are for having sex. Queer people do.

You can totally vent about not liking sex, and how society is pushing people to have sex! Just maybe don't do that by repeating straight-up queerphobic talking points. Because society is definitely not pushing queer people to have queer sex.

I say this as an aromantic gay man who has been made uncomfortable and felt unsafe in many general a-spec spaces by vents like this. Please remember that your oppressors aren't "people who have sex" but CisHetAllo-society that is pushing everyone into a very specific mold.

Thank you.

Also, if anyone wants to use this post to call aces in general homophobic: fuck right off. I'm just kindly pointing out a problem I've seen in the ace- and general a-spec community, if you use that as an excuse to be aphobic, you're going to be blocked. No discussion.

I doubt the aces saying this are being intentionally queerphobic. They are usually young and venting, and probably don't know the problematic history and implications behind the words they're using. Because they're oftentimes children. You know.

Have a nice day.

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Not That Kind of Guy

Part Twenty Two: Stalker!Anakin Skywalker x femme reader series

Warnings: stalking, weirdo behavior, psychotic/delusional behavior, possessive/protective, sexism/misogyny, sexual content/fantasizing, pervy behavior, panty/scent kink, mask kink(Ghostface), gaslighting/manipulation, public/semi-public, spitting, cumplay, nude vids/pics, masturbation, oral, PIV, dick piercing, forced orgasm, bondage/blindfolds, biting/slapping/ spanking/cutting, rape kink, NONCON/DUBCON/CNC, Somno, blood, knife, GEN. SMUT, [All possible tags listed, all may not apply] GORE, MURDER, ANIMAL CRUELTY, ANIMAL DEATH

Info: ✨breaking and entering✨ boy things ✨[diary entries from Ani] extremely not proofread, MDNI 18+

The office you sat in looked more like a living room out of a catalog than a workplace. The couch beneath you was comfy and large enough for you and Anakin both to sit, with plenty of room left over. Although he wouldn’t allow it, always insisting you stay tucked against his side. Not that you minded very much.

“Woods Edge,” Amy, the realtor that Luke had gotten ahold of for you repeated after Anakin. “That’s a higher price range than what we discussed over the phone this morning.”

”I know… I was doing a little independent looking.” He said with a friendly smile, tossing his arm over your shoulder. “I saw some pictures of the area online and I just really liked the view, seemed like a nice place.”

”It *is* a nice place, that’s why the price tag has a few added zeros.” Amy gave a lighthearted laugh.

“We really just wanted to take a look, a few different subdivisions, homes a bit farther out from the city. We aren’t totally set on anything. Just looking for ideas.” You piped up, reaching your hand across your body to take Anakin’s hand in yours, squeezing it hard to let him know you were taking over the conversation.

“The sooner we can get a look at-“ Anakin started, completely ignoring the rough squeeze of your hand, to him it just felt like the grip of scared child.

”I think we should go look at the little single level, two bedroom place. The second one you showed us.” You cut in, leaning forward and patting the back of Anakin’s hand as if to say ‘too bad’.

”Sure, its vacant at the moment.” Amy said, turning back to her computer to look up the address and specs, filling you in on what little detail there was in the listing. “There aren’t any showings scheduled and I have my afternoon blocked off for the two of you, so…”

After coming up with a tentative itinerary for the next few hours, you walked out of the building feeling excited to house hunt. There were many things you were looking forward to, seeing the different options was your main goal of course. Though it didn’t hurt to have a few other curiosities as well. It was going to be so entertaining for someone as easily distracted as you.

Thinking of all the random bits and bobbles hiding out in these strangers homes for you to judge and/or admire, was almost more exciting than the prospect of finding your new family home.

”We have twenty minutes before we’re supposed to meet her at the-“ The air blew out of your lungs from the force of Anakin’s forearm against your chest, pressing your back against the cold metal exterior of your vehicle.

“What the hell was that in there?” He asked angrily, yanking open the back passenger door to shove you inside. “You can’t just interrupt me like that.”

“I told you I wanted some real input on our decisions!” You snapped back, landing on the backseat cushions with a bounce that send you further back into the car.

“And I told you to let me handle this meeting!” He barked, climbing in after you and slamming the car door behind him. “You… you ruined it.”

“Ruined what?” You scoffed, pushing against his shoulders, hands on either side of his neck as he started to encompass your personal space.

“Remember when I told you to stop asking fucking questions and shut your goddamnn mouth?” He snarled, grabbing your face and jostling your roughly. Anger blazed in his eyes, the pupils usually so dilated just from being in your presence, were no bigger than the tip of a pin.

“This is one of those times you shut the fuck up and listen to me!” He yelled, shoving your head back until you heard a resounding *thunk*. The back of your skull hitting the ledge of the car door behind you.

“Ow!” You shrieked, cupping the back of your head as Anakin quickly released you and sat back on his haunches, blinking down at you like he had no idea what had just happened.

“What’s your problem?” You sniffled, sitting up and squeezing your eyes shut, breathing through your teeth as you rubbed the back of your head with the heel of your palm.

“Shit, I’m sorry.” He said quietly, not sounding like himself in the slightest. “‘C’mere. Let me look at it.”

You glared at him, giving him a long, uninterrupted stare-down before finally agreeing to let him check the tender, warm to the touch pump-knot forming. His fingers parted your hair, gently brushing through it before he separated the strands into two sections. Placing one over your right shoulder, while holding the other, smaller section loosely as he kissed the nape of your neck: a silent apology.

“It looks okay,” He said, feeling small and shitty about the way he’d acted. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“What did I ruin?” You asked, lowering your head, thankful he couldn’t see your face.

“Let’s just forget about that.” He sighed, pulling you toward him, arms around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder.

“It’s silly anyway, certainly not worth hurting you over.” He said softly, his breath warm against your neck as he nuzzled into you.

“Are you going to get in trouble because I’ve gotten in your way?” Your throat constricted at the thought. What an awful girlfriend. You’re going to be the reason Anakin goes to prison. All because you just had to question him.

He was quiet for a long moment, almost like he was waiting for you to speak again, maybe outright confront him. Or perhaps he was just too shocked to respond in a timely manner.

“No.” He shook his head, kissing the nape of your neck once more before awkwardly shifting his long limbs to crawl over the car console into the driver’s seat, gesturing for you to do the same.

“Actually, I think-“ He sighed, scratching his neck, turning his head away to avoid looking at you now that you were in the front beside him, buckling up in a heavy silence.

“It’s probably for the best.” He cleared his throat, starting the car and backing out of the parking space to head to the home you were scheduled to look at first.

“So it’s… a thing… at Woods Edge?” You asked, looking out the passenger windows as the buildings blurred past.

“Sweetheart.” He sighed, hesitantly laying his hand on your thigh. His calloused hand warm enough to transfer its heat through the denim of your jeans. “I don’t want you to worry. Everything is fine. There is no ‘thing’ at Woods Edge.”

”But there will be?” You asked, picking at the sides of your fingers nervously.

”No.” He huffed, reaching up to grab your wrist to separate your hands, not wanting you to mar up your skin.

”Did you… were you *hoping* for it?” You asked quietly, tapping your fingertip repeatedly against his hand.

”Jesus, can we not do this?” He asked tiredly. His left leg starting to bob up and down at the knee, like he was getting antsy at the red light he’d just pulled up to.

“What are you fishing for? What answer are you trying to get?” He growled in annoyance. It was clear that he really didn’t want to continue this conversation.

“Anakin, I just- I’m not trying to ‘fish’ for anything.” You snapped at him, crossing your arms over your chest. “I just want to be included!”

He froze, his face immediately morphing into a drawn and pale expression that showed just how unexpected your statement was. Or perhaps just how utterly unprepared he was to respond to such a bold declaration.

“W-wait, no that’s not…” You said quickly, holding out both hands as you twisted in your seat to turn toward him. “I don’t mean it like that.”

”Then what the hell do you mean?” He yelled, throwing open the center console to dig around for his lighter, needing a cigarette to calm his nerves.

“No, you were right.” You started to backtrack, staring out the front windshield to avoid the icy look he threw your way. “We shouldn’t be doing this now. We’re supposed to be house hunting.”

”No, ma’am, we shouldn’t. But you opened your mouth so…” He said sharply, gesturing at you like he was prompting you to keep talking. “So? Couldn’t shut your damn mouth before, open it back up and spit it out.”

”Ani, I just want you to stop being so… secret-y.” You let the words fall out of your mouth.

“Secret-y?” He scoffed, running his hand through his hair as he blew out a puff of smoke, cracking his window open. “You think I *like* hiding things from you?”

“Yes.” You said before you even had a chance to process the word forming on your tongue.

”Are you fuckin’ serious?” He squeaked, genuinely so surprised by your rapid fire answer that he dropped his cigarette from his lips, allowing it to fall into his lap.

“Shit! Fuck-“ He yelped, trying to focus on driving while also retrieving the cigarette before it burnt a hole in his jeans.

You reached over in a flash, pinching the filter between your fingers and plucking it up from his lap, holding it back out to him. The cherry had fallen out and charred a black spot onto the car upholstery between his thighs. He cursed under his breath and swiped at the ashes to fling them out on to floor mat beneath him.

”Thanks.” He mumbled, snatching it from between your fingers to relight it and finish smoking it in silence, presumably trying to pre-plan his next words to you.

“So you… do you really think I like hiding things from you?” He asked in a horribly hurt, tiny voice.

”N-not intentionally.” You sighed, reaching over to put your hand on his knee to comfort him. “I just think maybe you sometimes don’t tell me things because you’re like, scared or worried. I feel like you keep things from me because you think its best for me, but it’s not.”

”And why not?” He asked, his jaw line sharpening as he clenched his teeth tightly. “How do you know what’s best for you? You suck at being an adult.” He mumbled under his breath.

”Anakin!” You gasped, pulling your hand away from his knee as his words registered. “That is completely unfair. If anyone here sucks at being an adult it’s you.” You shot back.

”Excuse me?” He huffed, so distracted by the increasingly heated conversation to pay attention, not using a turn signal when pulling onto a side road, causing the car behind you to honk.

“Oh shut the fuck up!” Anakin growled over his shoulder as if the driver could hear him, throwing up a middle finger for good measure.

“I might have some issues but at least I can keep my shit together.” Anakin barked. “I don’t get wasted anytime I have a minor problem!”

”That’s only ever happened once and you know it!” You yelled back, your foot stomping down on the floor mat. “It’s your fault anyway!”

”MY fault?” He scoffed, smacking the steering wheel in anger, making the car swerve.

”Be careful!” You squealed, your hand reaching out to steady the steering wheel but not quite reaching it. It was more of a warning that if it happened again, you would be grabbing the wheel to correct his mistake.

”Don’t tell me how to fucking drive, its fine.” He grumbled, forcing himself to take a deep breath to calm his nerves. As much as he hated to admit it, you were right, he shouldn’t be so careless especially with you in the car with him.

“Look, w-we’re almost to this place. Don’t… just don’t.” Giving you a warning glance. “Chill out before we get there.”

“Whatever.” You muttered, crossing your arms, lips stuck in an irritated frown. You spent the last few moments in the vehicle in complete, utter, discomforting silence before finally arriving at the house you were scheduled to see.

“C’mon.” Anakin murmured, opening your car door for you, offering you his hand, but you declined, jerking your head in the opposite direction, purposefully making it as obvious as possible that you didn’t want his help.

“Stop being a bitch.” He spat out between his teeth as he flashed a smile at the realtor who was standing on the front porch, unlocking this stranger’s front door.

“You stop being a bitch.” You mumbled, walking in front of him at a quick pace. At this point you just wanted to get the day over with and go home. Sit on the opposite side of the hall from Anakin. You needed some space before you ended up ripping all your hair out.

“You didn’t like any of the places we saw today?” Anakin asked in an exhausted tone, pulling into the parking lot of your apartment building.

“No I didn’t.” You huffed, rolling your eyes when Anakin muttered something about how this was a waste of time.

”What didn’t you like?” He asked, trying to be more understanding as you both made your way to the entrance to the building.

“Your attitude.” You said in a snippy voice.

”Jesus Christ!” He growled, tossing up his hands to run through his hair. “I’m genuinely asking you!”

”I’m genuinely telling you.” You bobbed your head as you spoke, sassy and annoying in a way that made Anakin want to plant his fist in the drywall.

“What are you doing?” He asked, sighing and rubbing his face while he watched you open your apartment door and walk inside, turn and stand in the doorway.

”I don’t want you in here right now.” You said quietly, refusing to look up at him.

”What the fuck? Why?” He asked, truly sounding a little panicked.

“I don’t want to argue anymore. I’m tired.” You answered simply, attempting to close the door.

”Then we won’t argue, I swear. We can just have a quiet night.” He quickly grabbed the door in a crushing grip, shoving his foot against the doorframe to keep you from shutting him out.

”No!” You frustratedly pulled on the doorknob, catching his foot and making him suck in a breath through his teeth, his hand forming a fist to pound on the wall with the side of his hand.

“Fuck!” He growled, done playing nice with you now that you’d actually hurt him. He ripped the door open so hard that it pulled you forward, unable to let go of the doorknob fast enough, so you fell into his chest.

Anakin grunted at the impact, but stood firmly, refusing to move unless it was forward. He crushed you against his chest with his left arm braced against your back, your arms trapped against him as his right hand grabbed the crook of your knee to lift you up, stomping into the apartment and kicking the door shut behind you both.

”Put me down!” You squealed, wriggling and kicking to try and squirm out of his grip. “Anakin! I said put me down!”

”Shut the fuck up!” He shouted in your ear, tossing you down on the couch so hard you sank down into the cushion and felt the hard metal frame against your thighs. “Now you’re gonna sit there and you’re gonna fucking listen to me, got it?” He snarled, grabbing your face in one large hand, calloused fingertips biting into the flesh.

”I’ve had enough of this back and forth. You understand me?” He growled, releasing your face and turning on his heel to put his hands in his hair, breathing out as he puffed up his cheeks.

“You wanna talk for real? Let’s talk for real.” He shoved his hands down in his front pockets, shrugging his shoulders and rolling his neck like he was trying to relieve the tension in his muscles. “I mean it. Okay? I mean it. I’m- I can’t… I won’t. A-ask me whatever. I’ll tell you. All of it if you want.”

You sat there, feeling bile rising up the back of your throat. Your skin crawled at the thought of hearing ‘all of it’. All? Everything? You weren’t sure you wanted to- no. You knew you couldn’t handle it. Not all at once. He’d said it with so much weight that you could physically see how much he was carrying inside him. The guilt poured out of his blue eyes, giving you a glimpse into that hidden pit in his mind that he’d tried so hard to hide from you and from himself.

“Well?” He swallowed thickly, looking almost desperate to hear you ask the first question.

“Why did you lie to me for so long?” You asked, feeling your throat constricting, tightening up as if your own body was trying to stop you from asking.

”Really?” He scoffed, almost surprised that was your first inquiry, he was almost certain you’d jump straight into the juicy bits.

”Alright.” Anakin pursed his lips, scratching the sharp edge of his jaw. “Put yourself in my shoes.” He gestured to his chest with both hands, fingertips hitting the space between his pectorals. He was hoping by sharing more than you asked for with each question, it’d be over faster.

“Imagine how painful a bowling ball would be if it fell off the counter, right onto your stomach.” He threw out his right arm at the kitchen countertop. “Fucking bust your damn guts, if it was heavy enough, right?”

”I guess it probably would but-“ You furrowed your brows, unsure what this had to do with your question.

”Yeah, but if you put it in one of those ugly leather bags, it won’t roll off, right?” Anakin asked rhetorically, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he started to pace the living room. “So now, forget that you know what’s inside that bag. You don’t know what’s in there, it could be something dangerous. You don’t know, cause you can’t see it.”

”I didn’t want to hurt you, scare you, worry you. It was safer and more manageable to conceal myself from you, let you unzip the bag. Y’know cause you can see the bowling bowl inside, know what’s in there without taking it out.” Anakin looked down at his hands, mimicking the action of picking something up.

“Even though you know it’s a bowling ball, you can’t tell how heavy it is until you pick it up.” He said, holding out the imaginary bowling ball. “Does that make sense?”

”Okay, so you’re saying that… Ghost is the bag? Cause of the mask?” You muttered, having a hard time solidifying the metaphor in reality.

“No, its the opposite.” He shook his head, giving you an almost proud smile, like he was relieved that you’d finally said it aloud, you hadn’t made him do it. Although his eyes drooped in a way that conveyed a deep self loathing.

It was clear that despite his relief, he despised the fact he’d been weak and deluded enough to believe he had split himself in two all for *your* benefit in the beginning. In reality, everything he’d done was all for him. And once again, he was too weak and deluded to fully admit that fact to himself. If he were to accept that as truth, his entire purpose for enduring life thus far, would be flushed down the toilet of oblivion.

”Or maybe you’re right, it wouldn’t be the first time you saw through me in a way I didn’t expect.” A smile of chagrin etched into his nervously chewed lips.

“The way I see it though, is… well, it’s like this.” He sighed, kneeling down in front of you to take both your hands in his. “The bag is the Anakin you met. The surface layer of me.”

”I took the bowling ball out of the bag and I set it on the counter on one of those… those cup things that keep them from rolling around.” He jerked his head to the side in the direction of the kitchenette.

”You’ve been carrying around an empty bag. You didn’t know it was empty, since you couldn’t see inside. But it was a nice bag, maybe a little beat up looking but it was pretty solid. No holes. Right?” He said, a flat affect blanketing his face like he didn’t want you to know how he really felt while talking about this.

“So meanwhile, that big bowling ball was on the counter the whole time. It didn’t… feel safe, without it’s bag and the person who held it.” He paused, eyes going out of focus as he stared just a hair to the left of your face.

“Every so often, something would bump into it. Knock it off the stand.” He said, his brows pinched together as one hand hovered palm down, sliding through the air in a slow line. “Takes a tiny push and it’ll roll until it falls off the edge of the counter and squishes someone.”

“It’s not like it’s… inherently dangerous. But in the right conditions it could be a fatal weapon.” Anakin said, swiftly dropping his hand to hit the floor using the side of his fist to make a thumping sound. “And you know, it’s round so it can’t really control whether it keeps rolling or if it stops. The environment decides its mobility.”

“So even if it…” He paused, standing up suddenly and turning around so he could curse himself for not realizing he was crying until he saw the empathy in your eyes as you gazed at him.

“Even if it *wanted* to stop, it can’t.” Anakin said, one arm across his chest with his hand supporting his elbow while he rubbed at his eyes with his forefinger and thumb.

“Anakin, come sit with me.” Watching him so clearly struggled with himself was heartbreaking if not a little unsettling. He was crying with an entirely neutral face, eyes devoid of any depth, like a failure of a portrait.

“I get what you’re saying.” You nodded as he made his way to the couch reluctantly. “So here’s what we’re going to do, okay?” You said in an almost motherly tone.

“Put it back in the bag okay?” You said, eyebrows raised expectantly as you waiting for him to nod. “Good, we put it back in the bag and we leave it unzipped.”

“Really?” Anakin asked, his bottom lip wobbling while his mouth downturned into a shaky frown. “You mean it?” He sucked in a choked breath to hold, his eyes growing redder by the second as hot tears freely slipped from his lashes.

“Mhm.” You gave him a small smile. Only growing wider when he lunged at you for a crushing squeeze around your waist, his face buried in the softness of your belly.

“You won’t be scared?” He asked, his shoulders shaking like an his emotions were causing an internal earthquake.

“Do I look scared?” You asked, a hint of a smirk on your face as you gently pet his hair in a calming pattern.

“I’m afraid to look.” He muttered, using the hem of your tshirt to roughly wipe at his nose like a child.

“Well, I don’t.” You said quietly, tugging on the large red and black plug in his left ear. “I’m not scared of you. I don’t think I ever really was. I think I *wanted* to be scared.”

“Yeah?” Anakin sniffled, seemingly calming down now that he was able to touch you and know that you were really there, saying these insanely unbelievable things. “Cause if I scare you, for real, I’ll do what I can to-“

“Ani.” You sighed, twirling one of the longer curls at the back of his neck around your forefinger. “No. I don’t want you to be half a person.”

“Baby.” His voice cracked in a devastating way, conveying just how much he needed to hear that from you.

“I’m serious.” You said, bouncing your knee to get his attention, making him look up at you with his red splotchy cheeks and beautiful watery blue eyes. “No more of that. And I want to know things. Okay?”

“It’s not like I schedule it.” Anakin huffed, rolling his eyes at you even as his lips turned up in the corners by a tiny little fraction.

“How does that… ? How?” Biting your lip as you gazed down at him, knuckles gently stroking his cheek. You didn’t know how to ask for the answers you needed.

“You.” Anakin said plainly and clearly. So unbothered and so certain that it took you a second to really absorb what that meant.

Everyone he’d killed since you’d met Ghost. Every person. Each human. Died.

Because of you.

Floundering in shock, you opened your mouth with wide eyes. Slowly relaxing those muscles until your mouth closed again and the muscles pulled themselves down into deep contemplation. Unable to comprehend exactly what about you warranted all that violence. You didn’t even know how many people… just the confirmed. The ones he absolutely couldn’t deny. Frat boys. Record shop guy.

“Before?” Your voice tiny, meek and kind of shaky. Almost amusing to Anakin, but he didn’t show it outwardly.

“Two.” He said with a nod, flipping his top lip up to fiddle with his septum ring while he waited for you to react with what he expected to be horror.

“Actually-“ His hand shot up, his fingers splayed as he mumbled names under his breath.* “three. Sorry. Forgot.”

Forgot. He forgot? How do you just forget people like that? People he’s seen the life drain out of, people with families that he destroyed. The air felt colder as it rushed through your lungs, the chill seeping into your gut.

“Do animals count?” He asked, tilting his head back to frown up at you.

“Anim- Animals?” You stuttered, not expecting that. He’d always been so sweet to your cat… should you have been concerned this whole time? Didn’t you hear in a true crime special that seri… serial killers. Serial killer. That’s what he was. You’d said it before, now it’s real. So very real.

“Probably don’t wanna hear that.” He murmured, backtracking awkwardly when he realized you’d gotten uncomfortable.

“N-no, don’t.” Shaking your head quickly as you chewed the inside of your cheek. You really didn’t want to know. Truly you didn’t. But if this was going to work, there couldn’t be anymore secrets. “Tell me. I need to understand.”

“Sweetheart, there’s some things you can’t unhear.” He whispered, his calloused hand rising up to brush your hair away from your shoulder. His thumb caressing your throat while the weight and warmth of his palm rested against the side of your neck.

“I know that!” Scowling down at him before taking a breath and saying it again with less venom.

“Lots.” He mumbled, eye brows raised and pinched together in concern. “Like… I can’t count. I don’t remember.”

“What about the ones you do remember?” You swallowed, deciding that this needed to be a conversation that your eyes were closed for. You could pretend these words weren’t really coming from him. “Bertie?”

“No way, I loved Bertie.” He shook his head, voice squeaking in a panic like he was surprised you’d even suggest it. Could he really blame you though? He kept him in a jar for fucks sake.

“Alright, sorry.” You said with a sigh. “Just curious.”

“Bertie lived longer than most rats actually. I took really good care of him. He had like… a rat mansion.” He said expressively, his pointer finger gently pushing up your eyebrow to make you peek down at him. “I swear. Not Bertie.”

“Okay. Not Bertie.” You nodded, reluctantly looking down at him in concession.

“The first *real* one I remember was this lady’s who lived just outside the subdivision we lived in.” He started, lacing his hands together over his chest. “She had a shit ton of cats. Like, you could smell the piss just from standing in her yard. She let ‘em all out at once, around lunch time.”

“So I sat there across the street for about a week. Just watching.” He said, his voice calm and steady. “None of them wanted to come up to me.”

“I researched some snares.” Anakin said, making a loop motion with his finger before dropping it back to rest along the back of his opposite hand. “It took two days but I finally caught one.”

“How old were you?” You asked, preparing yourself.

“Nine? Maybe ten?” He said dismissively. “I killed stuff before that. But not pets.”

“Okay, so what then?” You sighed, feeling a little sick and queasy.

“Before then? Like fish… frogs, moles, mice and birds. If I could catch it with my hands or in a glue trap, chances are I did.” He said matter of factly, tucking his arms under his armpits. He kept moving like he was afraid to stay still for too long.

“What was the biggest animal?” Morbidly curious now that the conversation was actually flowing. You thought maybe the bigger the animal, the less sad you’d feel about it.

“People.” Anakin said. Hearing that, you popped open your eyes to see him smirking like a little shit.

“Anakin.” You drew out his name in a few extra exasperated syllables.

“Fine.” He sighed, obviously hoping that would’ve made you end the questioning. “A pig.”

“They’re supposed to be anatomically similar to humans.” He shrugged, flopping his head to the side, looking toward the wall to avoid your attention. “Wanted practice.”

“Why?” You asked, an unsettling feeling taking root in your stomach.

“I didn’t want to fuck it up.” He mumbled, jerking his head as he twisted his lanky body to rest on his side, facing away from you.

“Who was it?” The question shot out of your mouth faster than you could even mentally form the words.

“None of your-“ He started to snap at you, but bit his tongue and forcibly made himself stop. He took a long pause and muttered something under his breath.

“Remember when I told you I hit that guy and got sent to the big, bad, scary boy school?” He sighed.

“I remember Ghost, telling me he went to a big, bad, scary boy school.” You sassed back, yanking on his ear to make him turn his head back to you.

“Same fuckin’ thing.” He scoffed, smacking away your hand. “I tried to, y’know. Obviously I did a shit job.”

“I- I didn’t swing from the right angle.” He scowled, standing up and dusting his jeans off before he stepped back and mechanically went through the motions of the first hit from that attack. Like he’d re-enacted it before. Several times.

“Fuck.” He grumbled, feigning a swing again. “I didn’t realize he was so much taller than me, lost momentum in the up-swing.” He frowned.

“Still pisses me off.” He mumbled, sitting back down with a light bounce on the cushions, his head falling into his hands.

“How come Ghost didn’t tell me that?” You asked, genuinely getting angry that he hadn’t divulged all the details the first go-round.

“We were kinda busy and I really didn’t want to make you think I was a damn psycho.” He shot back with a scowl.

“Found that out pretty quickly after you murdered an entire fraternity.” You gritted out through your teeth.

“I didn’t kill an entire fraternity!” He whisper shouted, throwing his hands up in frustration. “You know damn well I didn’t.” He growled, jabbing a finger into your chest.

“Don’t- Anakin!” You gasped. Was he seriously trying to compare your unfortunate self-defense situation to purposeful murder?

“I’m not!” He scoffed, running a hand through his thick black hair. “I didn’t say anything about that!”

“It’s not my fucking fault those guys couldn’t get out of the closet.” He grumbled, roughly mussing up his hair. “It’s not like I meant for them to die! I just didn’t want them to have time to follow us.”

“Jesus, you act like I’m some kind of-“ Anakin paused, his hands out in front of him before he took in a breath and balled them into fists to rest on his knees. “Sorry.”

“Let’s just… stop for now. Okay?” You suggested, knowing you couldn’t mentally handle anymore anyway.

“No, just hit me with your big questions and get it over with.” He sighed softly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his jeans. “I don’t want to re-hash this another time.”

His request was reasonable of course. This was mentally draining for you to listen to and you were certain it was just as exhausting for him to retell. It’s just difficult to imagine you could stomach much more.

“What about the other people before me?” You asked nervously, licking your bottom lip when your mouth suddenly felt dry.

“I was angry.” He mumbled, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee and letting his hands fall into his lap. “I didn’t ever want to fuck up that bad again. That guy… he just- he was always so damn rude and went out of his way to inconvenience us. Y’know?”

“Like shoving his garbage into our trash cans on pick-up day. He let his dog shit in our yard. He mowed over my mom’s peonies, before we put up the fence in the back.” Anakin scowled, even the memory pissed him off. The fact he was having to use mental energy to recall such a worthless person was irritating.

“He backed into mom’s new car. He’d have a bunch of people over and block our driveway… sometimes even tell people to park in our driveway too.” Anakin breathed out, flexing his fingers before clasping his hands together, trying to hide the way he was beginning to fidget.

“Then he got married and had a stepkid, nice girl. Didn’t talk much.” He said, his left knee starting to bounce almost uncontrollably. “She was probably still in elementary school.”

“I saw him smack his wife once.” Anakin gritted his teeth, the sound audible and squeaky. “I knew he was shitty, but I didn’t realize he was a waste of space until then.”

“I was so mad that it was hard to breathe.” He scoffed, gesturing at his chest. “He smacked her outside, where anyone could see. He didn’t care. It’s like he thought that no one would say anything to him or try to stop him.”

“Poor girl saw the whole thing and he just laid into her, screaming and throwing a man-tantrum.” He sneered. “I couldn’t ignore it.”

“But that’s not- I mean-” You paused, a little surprised that the story was going in such a direction. You hadn’t expected his previous… activities… to be somewhat justifiable.

“What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow in question to you, wondering why you’d interrupted.

“Nothing, just thinking aloud.” You quickly corrected yourself and let him continue.

“Well… anyway.” He sighed, rubbing his forefinger’s knuckle beneath his nose. “I knew he’d be driving past the dumpsters on his way out that evening, so I bought some spray paint and was spray-painting shit all over the dumpsters. Obviously baiting him, y’know?”

“Mhm.” You nodded, trying to focus on his words rather than the irritation in his voice.

“I thought maybe if things didn’t go well, I could just say he and I were fighting over the graffiti. Which is exactly what I ended up having to do. Since I didn’t hit him hard enough, enough times.”

“I guess that makes sense.” You nodded, feeling your mental energy draining straight out your ears.

“Yeah, I was a fucking idiot.” He scoffed, acting as if he took your comment as sarcasm. “Never happened again. I made sure of it.”

“How… exactly?” You asked, internally smacking yourself for asking, even though it needed to be answered.

“I swore off anyone I knew.” He held up a finger, bending it to tap repeatedly against the pad of his thumb* “I had to find someone that guys size. So I could correct my mistake. I had to do it within a month.”

“Why?” You frowned, wondering if he’d set that time limit for himself for whatever reason.

“My court date.” He said plainly. “I knew I wasn’t getting out of punishment. I was going to jail or that Juvie school for certain.”

“Oh, right.” That made sense… except you’d have assumed he’d be under some sort of supervision because of the assault. Did they just let violent offenders on bail roam freely while they waited for court?

“I just found a guy who looked similarly built to what’s-his-face. Then I beat the shit out of him until I figured out how to swing up at someone taller and bigger than me.” He said simply. “Obviously I don’t have to worry about that anymore though.” Anakin gestured to his long, lanky legs and lean muscles.

“You did what?” Your jaw went slack and your eyes widened to the size of saucers as his words went in one ear and straight out the other as if your brain didn’t even want to entertain that as fact. “Beat him? You beat someone to death?”

“How else was I going to figure out how I messed up so bad the first time?” Anakin asked as if it were common practice. He seemed genuinely surprised that you were upset, like he wasn’t sure what he said to make you feel so shocked.

“Like with your fists?” You asked, face contorted into a strange expression of mixed morbid curiosity and a hint of fear.

“No, I’m not stupid.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Skin cell transfer, sweat, hair, blood. That’s a terrible idea 1) it’d fucking hurt and 2) why would I waste time and effort with my fists when I can be a one hit wonder with a crowbar?”

“Oh.” You slumped in your seat, feeling a little… inferior? If that was the correct word, for it. You hadn’t really thought about the logistics or risks of pummeling someone with your hands.

“Let’s go across the hall.” Anakin suggested with a sudden burst of energy as he sprung up to his full height and immediately started heading for the door.

“Okay?” You furrowed your brows but hopped up after him, rushing to catch up with his wide steps.

After throwing open his front door, he left it wide open for you to follow him through, while he lifted up his couch cushions and tossed them into a haphazard heap. You’d checked under those cushions, under the couch and behind it, in search of something to prove he was Ghost not so long ago and now watching him un-Velcro the black liner covering the springs… you felt both impressed and a little embarrassed that you hadn’t noticed the liner wasn’t attached as it should’ve been if it were intact from factory production.

With a loud **skrrriptd** the liner was pulled back half way and he reached through the zig-zagged springs to pull out a backpack. Ghost’s backpack. Underneath it laid a long metal box that he also pulled out and swiftly plopped down onto the rug to open it up. Inside was a carefully arranged assortment of knives. All shapes and sizes. He was particularly fond of butterfly knives, as you already knew. You counted at least six that you’d never seen before.

“I got my second one with these.” He said, a weirdly sharp smile on his face. His eyes bright and proud in a way you’d never seen before. You wondered if that’s the face he wore beneath his mask, that sick expression of glee.

He laid out a large serrated hunting knife and a matching set of short, curved blades with handles ending in a thumb-hole. “These would probably be better suited for you though. I got over-excited and picked ‘em up cause they were cool.” He said with a smile, offering the matching pair to you.

“They have a nice back-handed grip, see?” He explained enthusiastically, having you hold out your hands and placing the handles in your palms. Doing all the work for you as he positioned your thumbs in the holes and had you grip them tighter.

“Claw knives.” He said simply, making a punching motion. “Versatile, you can still use your hands while holding them. Like you can climb a ladder or tie your shoes with them in your hands. And fistfight if you have to.”

“My hands are too big for the handles though. I only used them for a bit and had to switch to the big blade there.” He said, gesturing toward the large hunting knife. “I’m glad I kept them around though.” He smiled, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, kissing your neck gently.

“You look pretty with ‘em.” He murmured, his hands traveling up your sides and down your arms, admiring the way the blades looked in your dainty hands. “Very, very pretty.”

“Makes me wanna do some bad things.” He whispered sigh his breath hot against your neck, his tongue licking along the shell of your ear. “Or maybe watch you do some bad things.” Anakin growled with a low grit.

“I don’t think-“ You started, blushing for more than one reason. Partially because he was letting his obvious erection less against your ass and partially because of the shame you felt for considering…

“M’joking.” He chuckled, squeezing you around the middle and giving you a rough kiss on the neck. “I love you baby. I feel… a lot better after all this.” He sighed, spinning you around to face him as he took the knives from your hands.

“I love you too.” You said quietly, watching him place the blades back into the case along with the others.

“Are we gonna talk about… what you were planning for that subdivision?” You asked softly as you laid your head in his lap. Tired and full from dinner as he pet you and watched a silly little girly movie at your insistence.

“I didn’t have anything planned.” He snapped quickly, scowling down at you. “I was just looking.”

“But, why?” You asked with a frown, not convinced at all.

“I just got a weird feeling okay? Wanted to check it out.” He muttered, twirling a lock of your hair around his finger.

“So it’s not someone that did something to…?” You asked the open ended question, not knowing how to phrase it.

“No. Nothing to do with you.” He huffed, staring blankly ahead at the tv. “Promise.”

“If you say so.” You nodded with a sigh, forced to accept his statement as fact.

“How about I make some tea and we’ll go to bed?” Anakin asked, poking you in the cheek with a little smile of reassurance.

“You don’t have to drug me.” You sighed, sitting up and looking at him pointedly.

“W-what?” He sputtered, taken aback by your bold assumption. It was correct, but it was still shocking to him that you’d called him out on it. You were taking all the fun out of this.

“I’ll just go to bed.” You stood up, taking the throw blanket you had been laying with and tossing it over your shoulders like a shawl before shuffling off to the bedroom and face planting onto the mattress, letting yourself sink down into the softness of it.

Anakin shot up from his seat and stood there for a solid minute. Completely frozen and befuddled by your actions. What the hell? What was he supposed to do after that? Continue with his plan? Ditch it? He didn’t like being thrown off like this.

He shook his head and rubbed his face like he thought it would clear away what had just happened and you’d be laying in his lap again, you’d let him make you tea and you’d be out like a light. He wasn’t planning to drug you for malicious reasons. He just wanted to make sure you’d sleep through the night and he wouldn’t have to waste time worrying about you.

Though when he opened his eyes, to his dissatisfaction, reality was… reality and you weren’t there beside him. With a little more effort than usual and a heavy weight in his mind, he changed clothes and grabbed his bag. Walking over to the bedroom to see you laying there scrolling on your phone.

“So… you’re just going to let me go?” He asked, standing in the doorway, looking like a lost child.

“Yes?” You responded, glancing over at him. “What did you expect?”

“I- I don’t know…” he stuttered, shrugging awkwardly. “Not this.” He gestured to you.

“Well you have plans and I’m not included in them so I assumed it’s for a good reason.” You said simply, having learned that it was best to turn a blind eye to things you had no business knowing about. You’d be risking your freedom and his if you knew anymore than you already did. It’s not like you’d hold it together very well under pressure from an interrogation.

“I don’t know if I’m… proud or disappointed.” He mumbled to himself, scratching his head.

“Be… safe?” You offered the sentiment because you weren’t sure what else to say in this situation.

“Yeah.” He muttered, frowning to himself. “I won’t be gone long.” With that, he turned on his heel and tried to shake off the eerie feeling that shrouded him.

After he left, you spent a long time mindlessly scrolling on social media. You weren’t really paying attention to what you were seeing at all, you just needed an excuse not to sleep. Because if not, you’d have to admit to yourself that you were… feeling something. You weren’t sure what, but it was a feeling you knew wasn’t right. It didn’t belong.

Diary Entry

I didn’t even want to go after speaking to you. You didn’t bat an eye at me. It made me want to shake you and force you to come with me. Even though I had no intention of taking you with me in the first place.

Stupid. You’re stupid. I’m stupider.

Anakin crouched below the laundry room window of the massive home that was his target. He just needed a quick look around. That’s all. Just a few more steps on his list and he’d be inside and out quicker than it took for him to break in.

Taking a flathead screwdriver to the keypad housing outside the back door, he popped off the plastic and sat it aside. Thankfully, this bitch left the lights in the laundry room on. Or else he’d be forced to use his phone’s flashlight and that might draw attention.

“C’mon…” He gritted his teeth, mentally counting down the seconds in his mind. He needed to work swiftly. If not, all this prep work with research would be for nothing. “Stupid fuckin’ gloves.”

The leather was thick enough to keep him from getting electrocuted, unfortunately that also meant it was difficult to navigate through the tiny wires to find what he was searching for. Green, green, blue, yellow.

Green. Snip. Green, Blue. Snip, snip.

He concentrated like never before, knowing that if this went badly, he’d be in deep shit. He couldn’t afford to get arrested for a simple B&E. Not when he had so many skeletons in his closet. He prepped the cables with electrical tape, joining the two green cables together without allowing the copper wiring inside to touch.

“Peel back the wire casing…” Anakin mumbled, licking his lips beneath the black bandanna tied around his lower face. “a little twist…”

“Green 1 to Green 2.” He whispered, shaking out his hands and shoving his phone into his mouth with the charging cord attached, along with a car cigarette lighter adaptor on the opposite end, held up with his pinky finger.

“Blue 1 to Green 3.” He twisted the copper wiring together and quickly. “Blue 2 to Green 4.”

Yellow. Snip.

With those wires cut and prepped he had a measly five seconds to connect the necessary circuits or face the consequences of his actions.

His hands started to sweat inside his gloves. Anakin hadn’t felt pressure like this in ages. Probably since the first time he’d broken into a home. It was nerve wracking enough to make his hands shake a little as he quickly stripped the wire casing and connected the two ends of the yellow wire to the car adapter. Finally he wrapped the electric tape around the adapter and yellow wiring, watching as his phone lit up with the logo of the Westside Watch app.

“Oh thank fuck!” He quietly punched the air in front of him with his phone clutched in his hand. “Jesus, finally. Did something fucking right.” He breathed out, shaking his hands and arms to rid himself of any lingering feelings of anxiety.

Anakin opened the app and pulled up the in-home camera monitoring, checking every room for movement, every corner for signs of life. Even though he’d already confirmed there was no car in the garage and the wretched lady who owned the place was out galavanting around.

She was wealthy, it wouldn’t be totally unexpected if she had a maid or even a watchdog somewhere in the house, but everything seemed clear. So he disabled the alarms and paused all camera activity before he picked the locks on the back door.

With that finished, he slipped off his shoes and crept into the home. For the home of such a bitchy woman, Anakin had expected something more… pretentious. Yeah it was clear that she didn’t get her furniture at Marshal’s, but it also wasn’t absolutely atrocious in style.

It reminded him of the homes inside the magazines his mom always had in the bathroom. Too clean and too untouched to be properly lived in. There wasn’t a warm or cozy atmosphere like he’d found in your home. It was devoid of any personal touches, not even a stray throw blanket or decorative pillow. Did this lady enjoy being uncomfortable?

He grudgingly decided to trek upstairs. It was useless to continue his search on the main floor. Clearly it was in a pristine ’guests could arrive any moment’ state and he wasn’t willing to risk moving anything out of its place.

He had suspected she was unmarried. Never having seen a wedding ring on her during their initial meeting, but it was confirmed when he opened her bedroom door and saw the clothes draped over an armchair, a makeup vanity with overflowing drawers and a comforter set that no self respecting man would sleep in.

“Looks like a person lives here after all.” He chuckled, rifling through drawers and peeking in her closet.

Nothing of interest caught his attention in her bedroom so he left, shutting the door behind him and continuing to the next door. Bathroom. He didn’t even bother to flip on the light, he just shut the door and continued on.

“Alright, now we’re getting somewhere.” He nodded to himself, turning on the desk lamp before he sat down in the stupidly comfortable ergonomic swivel chair.

There were papers everywhere.

“Little Miss Pantsuit sure does take a lot of work home.” He muttered under his breath as he flipped through halfway filled out intakes and records.

Anakin sat everything back just as messily as he found it, so he could focus of finding personal affects. If this lady had any. The walls were bare. Did she just spawn into existence like the fucking wraith that he saw her to be?

And just like that, just when he started searching through desk drawers, he saw something. *Under* the desk. A pillow? No, when he turned on the lamp it was clearly a pet bed. An embroidered one at that.

“Rex?” Anakin called out, expecting a cat to appear judging by the size of the bed and the fact that there was a heated blanket placed under the bed, cats do like to be warm after all. “C’mere buddy.” He clicked his tongue and tapped his fingers on the desktop.

Scuttling. The best word to describe what exactly he heard coming down the hallway. Rex breathed like an asbestos smoker when he finally entered the room after what felt like ages of scratching and clicking on the floors as he made his way to the home office.

That was no cat. That was a decrepit, cesspool of a science experiment gone horribly awry. The dog, if it could be classified as that, was crusty. To say the least. Eye boogers and cataracts, his head perpetually cocked to the side, the tip of its tongue dripping drool on the floor as it hung from it’s mouth and its entire body jerked with the force of the hoarse and overused bark attack he launched.

“What the fuck are you?” Anakin whispered, mouth falling open in disgust while holding the… undead? fiend at bay with the tip of his shoe to its chest.

It had to be some kind of yorkie mixed with maybe a possum considering the awkward placement of its eyes. Or maybe in its ancient age its eye sockets were just a little too tired to contain the entirety of its massive bulging eyeballs.

He reached down at picked up the creature by the scruff its neck, watching it flail and throw itself around while trying to bite the hand that held him aloft. With his left hand, he wrapped his gloved hand around its muzzle and within a moment or two the struggling stopped. The aggressive, sharp barking halted and its body went limp.

“Are you-“ Anakin quickly rolled the chair back and stood up, holding the animal as far away from himself as possible while he ran his left hand over the front of his hoodie. “Did you fucking piss on me? Jesus Christ have you no self respect?” He grimaced, looking down at the moisture on his leather glove.

“Nasty ass bitch and her nasty ass mutt.” He mumbled, laying the dog down on its pet bed and half expecting it to mummify right before his eyes.

“Ungrateful prick.” He scoffed, rolling the chair back up to the desk and inserting a flash drive from his pocket to the computer monitor. “Just saved your mom $500 bucks. I’m a professional euthanizer myself, only I don’t charge for it.” He snickered.

After all the files were transferred to the flash drive, Anakin slid it back into his pocket and closed down the computer again. Standing up as he held the front of his hoodie away from his body, pinched between his forefinger and thumb. He made his way through the upstairs, checking the bedrooms and bathroom.

Sad gray paint. Boring white bedding. Tiny nightstands. One average no-personality white lady spare bedroom. Why would she need two spare bedrooms when it’s clear she doesn’t get visitors?He thought as he opened the next door.

Workout equipment and a closet full of totes, which of course he rifled through and saw absolutely nothing of value. Other than the very obvious fact that she was probably breaking some sort of middle aged woman receipt hoarding record. So, she was self aware enough not to waste time and money on another spare bedroom that would never be used.

The master bedroom held a massive bed with pristinely made bedding. The only real sign that an actual human lived there was the laundry basket overflowing in the corner and the rest of the week’s work clothes laid out neatly on the dresser.

Anakin knelt down and opened all the dresser drawers. Boring, un-exciting, useless. This woman was so unnaturally work oriented that she seemed to have absolutely no interest in life outside of her profession. What a sad existence. There wasn’t a single ‘let’s get laid’ dress in the closet. Nothing risqué in the drawers. She didn’t even have regular comfy clothes. She actually spent real life money on expensive matching loungewear rather than wearing a hole ridden, thread bare, free tshirt that she got from a highschool event like every other person on earth.

Why does she feel the need to be so… ‘perfect’?

Does she realize this kind of behavior does the opposite of its intended purpose? Sure, she looks put-together and it’s clear she’s not middle class. Though any girl with eyes and a brain would conclude she’s a major bitch rather than a woman to be jealous of.

What is she hiding that makes her act this way?

“Finally.” Anakin breathed out, grabbing a rather slim, embossed photo album from a box in the very top of the closet. Mementos. Maybe she did have a soul after all.

He flipped through it. Business brunches, office events, landscape photography. Plain. Boring. Her adult life was… pitiful. Though the farther back he searched, the photos delved into her more personal details. Tennis during college. Sheet protectors of newspaper clippings for achievements and noteworthy accomplishments. Surprisingly, robotics club seemed kind of fun. She liked it, her smile was genuine in those moments.

The younger she was in those photos, the more human she became to Anakin. She wasn’t just a cold, professional, weird lady. She at least *used* to have a personality.

Highschool Musical birthday party for her 10th. Overjoyed expression while seeing a tiger at the zoo. Field trip to the aquarium. Childhood friends with toothy grins who probably didn’t speak to her anymore. S’mores with the girl-scout troop. A middle school love interest with Bieber hair and flat brim hat. Obligatory handlebar mustache decor in her old bedroom.

Trendy and popular across the board. Homecoming queen, gaudy prom dresses, boatloads of boys and best friends.

Possibly single mother? Sisters. Normal middle class, suburban styled childhood home, kind of messy but in a lived-in way, not a dirty way. Purple bicycle in the garage.

Some photos were missing from the slots, so Anakin turned to flip through the random assortment of photos and papers lining the bottom of the box.

Childhood diary, that’s certainly going in the backpack. He thumbed through it and a few pictures fluttered down the the floor, he scooted them over into a pile on their own with the diary laid on top while he put everything back into the closet and turned his attention to the nightstands. Books and Tylenol, sleeping mask, Snickers bar. Normal.

There was a briefcase sized safe hiding under the bed, unfortunately he didn’t have the tools to break into it. But he did certainly jot down the make and model of it to study later. Just in case.

With everything settled, he casually trotted down the steps and went back out the way he came. The rest of the house was so completely uninteresting that he didn’t even bother with the garage and basement.

His retrieved his phone and put the casing back on the security system keypad, leaving the internal wire changes in order to leave himself a re-entry point. She’d still be able to access it without realizing there was any changes.

After arriving back at home, he swiftly rinsed off in the shower and changed clothes. Opting to toss the black hoodie in the garbage rather than take it down to the laundromat for a wash. Piss soaked crime-time clothing? No thanks. He had two more plain black hoodies anyway.

He plopped down in his desk chair, clicked the flash drive into place and while he waited for the files to upload, he flipped through the diary. His cheek resting on his fist as he turned the pages and inspected the pictures glued to the pages that accompanied some of the entries.

Halfway through the girly, scrawled gel pen script, he paused. Going rigid at what he read. His palms started to sweat and he felt himself growing clammy before his senses returned and he jumped up from his seat, tripping over his feet.

“Baby!” Anakin’s voice cracked, the bed creaking under his weight. “Baby wake up, you gotta see this.”

@tsugumiholic @kingdomhate @burnthecheshirewitch @exquisitcorpse @arzua10 @bby-imasociopath @depressed-kay @aliciaasky @naty-1001 @mrsmikaelsxn @bunnylovesani @angelsadmired @slut4starwars @chocolatepalacecloudhoagie @starkiller419 @hearts4mitski4 @lethargic @allhailbuckybarnes-blog @shadowhuntyi @mortalheartache @fallinlovewithevil @sythethecarrot @chaoticantihero @vadersslut @luvvfromme @sweetcheesecakesblog @angelsadmired @kaminokatie @anakin-pilled @graveyard-stray @chiaraanatra @jediavengers @zapernz @salted-snailz @queenofchaos99 @ellie-luvsfics @dazednstars141 @hopesworld @lonaah @guiltycherries @syralix @hemmoxloser @ahano @astarionsgirl @popcosmi @purriteen @sydkneez @sinisterminist3r @swanlakex

[cryptotheism]

I've been saying Dante's Inferno, etc. are fanfics as a joke for a while now. Was I supposed to take it more seriously? I kinda thought everyone was joking

Imo "Dantes inferno is fanfiction" is kinda the "ketchup is a smoothie" of literary analysis. It's technically true, but not in a useful way. It only works if you stretch the definition of "fanfiction" past the point of usefulness. It is also, however, a humorous and useful shorthand for casual discussions on the internet, and it lets us engage in the proud tradition of bothering medievalists.

In all seriousness, I would argue that fanfiction as a literary phenomena requires the notion of "fandom" to exist. It's a genre that emerged out of a fairly unique mixture of access to writing ability and mass communication in the 20th century. Many, many things contributed to the formation of the genre, (Dante included, I would argue) but it's important not to mistake the flour for the cake.

There are absolutely useful, interesting, and valuable connections you can make between the literary milieu of Dante and say, the culture around Star Trek Spec Scripts, but a serious discussion of the topic would be exceedingly careful where they draw the line, and take careful note of the important differences. Differences that will inevitably be lost in most internet discussions.

I know it may be shocking to hear, but literary critics and scholars can be pompous assholes sometimes. I have no doubt that some people look down their nose at scholarly writing on fanfiction, but I have also seen people over-correct in the other direction, and seriously assert that the Arthurian Cycle is not meaningfully distinct in any way from bored moms writing pornography about a poorly funded CW show. Which I think we can all agree is silly.

All that said, while it is objectively incorrect and ahistorical, it is very funny to call the New Testament "an unauthorized fan sequel." And I will not stop doing it anytime soon.

[asterafroditis]

Hello!

I’d like to request the octrio with an asexual reader. I’m not too picky, so whatever you see fit! Although preferably more on the romantic side please! (I don’t want reader to get rejected ghgjgk)

I get this may be a bit of an awkward ask, so please don’t feel pressured to do it! ❤️

𐔌 . ⋮ love beyond touch .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☓┆Azul, Jade, & Floyd x asexual gn! reader (separate)

𓏵 726 words

ᝰ.ᐟ headcanons, no pronouns used, fluff

I'm actually aroace-spec so this wasn't awkward at all! I hope this exactly caters to your request! feel free to like, reblog, or comment!

ᝰ.ᐟ masterlist

Azul would approach a relationship with careful consideration, analyzing every aspect like a well-prepared contract. When he realizes you’re asexual, his first instinct is to research—discreetly, of course. He’s not about to ask outright and risk looking ignorant. Instead, he gathers knowledge, ensuring he understands what it means and how to navigate your relationship in a way that makes you comfortable.

He might initially worry that he can’t provide what you need, but once you reassure him that your feelings for him aren’t contingent on anything physical, he exhales a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He shifts his focus to what he does best: crafting moments of intimacy through words, gestures, and acts of service. Azul is a firm believer that affection can be expressed in a thousand different ways, and he’s eager to explore every single one.

Romance with Azul means private dinners in his VIP room, soft words whispered over candlelight, and tender reassurances when his insecurities creep in. He thrives on quality time, and the simple act of sharing drinks while discussing your day becomes a cherished ritual. He may not always say it outright, but his actions speak volumes—whether it’s remembering your favorite dessert or slipping a handwritten note into your books.

"There are… many ways to express devotion, wouldn’t you agree? Physicality isn’t the sole measure of affection. I would be a fool to let something so trivial stand in the way of what we have."

─────────────────────────

Jade approaches your relationship much like he tends to his terrariums—patiently, attentively, and with great care. When you reveal that you’re asexual, he listens with quiet intrigue, nodding along as he absorbs your words. Jade is nothing if not adaptable, and the concept of romance without a focus on physicality doesn’t faze him in the slightest.

If anything, he finds it fascinating—one more layer to peel back and study. He never makes you feel like a puzzle to be solved, though. Instead, he takes your preferences into account and seamlessly adjusts, treating your boundaries with the same respect and consideration he gives to everything else. Affection with Jade manifests in quiet but meaningful ways: the way he subtly leans closer when you speak, how he shields you from the rain without a word, the lingering touch of his fingers when he hands you something.

Jade enjoys the thrill of deep conversations, and if romance is to be built on something other than physicality, then he will ensure it is rich in emotional depth. He asks thought-provoking questions, weaving discussions that leave you contemplating long after the conversation ends. If you ever feel insecure about what you can or can’t offer, he tilts his head and chuckles, his mismatched eyes twinkling.

"My, my, such concerns are unnecessary. If anything, I find it quite refreshing. Love, after all, is not bound by a single definition. Shall we discover what ours looks like together?"

─────────────────────────

Floyd has never been one to care much for rules or expectations, so when you tell him you’re asexual, he blinks once, twice, and then shrugs. “Okay! So?” It’s not that he doesn’t understand—it’s just that, to him, it doesn’t change anything. He likes you. That’s it. Simple.

He doesn’t treat you any differently, nor does he make a big deal about it. If you ever express worries about whether he’ll lose interest, Floyd pouts and dramatically flops over you like a beached eel. “You really think I’m that shallow? Sheesh, shrimpy! That hurts my feelings!” He’s an affectionate person by nature, but he’s also flexible—literally and figuratively. If you’re comfortable with certain kinds of affection, he’s all for it. If not, he simply finds new ways to show his love.

He thrives on shared experiences and quality time. Late-night walks, arcade dates, reckless adventures—he wants to make memories with you, not just go through the motions of what people say romance should be. He’s unpredictable, but one thing remains constant: his unwavering devotion.

"D’aww, don’t stress ‘bout stuff like that, shrimpy. You’re mine, I’m yours—that’s all that matters, yeah? Hehehe, now c’mon, let’s go do somethin’ fun! I’m bored!"

[hazelfoureyes]

why smut with an ace character?

This person was a minor so I won’t reply directly. I would love to discuss sexual orientation and the wibbly wobbly nature of attraction and pleasure to someone who I think needs a space to discuss it but as an adult stranger? That’s not my place and I would be wildly uncomfortable doing so directly. But! For anyone who does see my blog and wonders why, I’ll have this set on my master list to save me time

Heheheheh MY TIME HAS COME

closing in on 5 months of being on tumblr and this is my first “BUT ACE!” Comment/inbox

so, why?

✦Alastor is canonically Ace! The aro aspect was mentioned by an important staffer but has been left off as a descriptor by Viv herself and no accepted as canon. She gave her explicit permission to write them as we are comfortable with.

✦Asexuals can and do fuck! 💦 (my source? My ace spec partner!)

✦Alastor’s ace spectrum is often times an important aspect of my stories!

I always have Alastor motivated into sexual situations for non-sexual reasons.

Closeness, intimacy, fulfilling a partner’s needs, a biological imperative, for power, for control, putting someone into a submissive to embarrassing position. It’s to see someone break and bend to his will (with consent).

But lets shift into asexuality now --- how I write him isn't a representation of all ace people! It’s just how I view his place on the spectrum. Being Ace doesn't mean you can't ever want sexual pleasure in any form, it doesn't mean you never think about sex or enjoy seeing it.

Letting people explore the range of being asexual is as important as with any other sexual orientation. If you feel people being non-sex repulsed and being Ace is making your own identification harder to make clear to strangers —- well then I wonder if the label itself is more important to you than the community we all desperately seek and need when we publicly acknowledge our sexuality. We publicly say we’re LGBTQIA+ because these labels are for self identification and signal to like minded people and allies we're here. This is how I love and how I want to be loved. Maybe one day a different word will exist to separate the spectrum but we’re living and working with what we have today and how we find each other now. “Why not call him grey ace?” It’s each individuals decision how they wanna identify!

Full circle. Why do I write SO much smut about an ace character? Of course I think that animated deer man’s personality is hot lmao but also because I love this character and identify with him a lot! Being ace doesn't mean he doesn't ever have sex or ever enjoy physical pleasures! Writing about someone seeking out pleasure for non-sexual reasons is very fun for me as someone who doesn't identify with the romantic aspect of sex many people put on it. Do ace people fuck for romantic reasons? Yes! Absolutely! Being Asexual doesn’t mean you’re Aromantic!

Why not write fluff or QPR? Because I'm aromantic and it's harder for me but I am trying and am getting better at it because I want to write more things that meet the needs and wants of many kinds of people. As for QPR, I'm still learning what those relationships look like and learning how to idenfity them in my own life!

And finally— it’s valid to write him as any form of Ace or even not Ace at all! I prefer to keep him Ace spec but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong to make him not. He’s not real and the creator has given us permission to do so. 👌🏼

[simbistardis]

Being black and Aromantic is an experience. When I came out through social media my family felt the need to drill me with questions about my past romantic relationships and why now all a sudden, I’d chosen to go by Aro. I remember talks of bandwagons, even though I can count the number of aro-spec black people I’ve met on one hand with like three fingers. In church when my oldest sister led the prayer, she alluded to how younger kids had so many demons they had to fight, and I instantly knew what she meant. Subsequently, my being Aro had become a thing to pray off and use as a talking point in Sunday school rather than being discussed on a deeper and serious level with just myself. But when we did speak about it the conversations felt like an interrogation. It always felt like black culture couldn’t align much with Aromanticism, especially cause growing up I was taught that marriage was the end goal and that’s what I should want but I don’t think marriage was in my plans. I would dream of having dogs and living alone in a big house instead of having a romantic partner. For me being Aro and black is an interesting intersection because romance is very much portrayed in black narratives in both good and bad ways, but it’s never talked about in the capacity to which I experience alloromanticism. Alloromanticism is never ‘the decline of romantic attraction’ or ‘the strong romantic attraction to people only when I know them just as well as I know myself’. With my demiromantic identity people don’t understand the difference it has from regular attraction . My attraction is fluid so in the case of when I feel more Demi I’m glued to one person and one person only for a really long time. Attraction like that is what I wish was shown on TV and not just packaged as someone who's got an obsession and needs to get over someone. They could be Demiromantic. A thing I love about being Aro-spec is how comfortable it feels. Like I don’t feel this overwhelming need to perform. If my partner knows I’m on the Aro-spec they know it’s best not to try to force romantic gestures or even be offended by my lack of attraction at times. ... How come black women just can’t experience attraction a bit differently from how everyone says we should. So many black and brown men and women probably have to repress the way they feel and run the risk of being the bad guy because no one would understand or want to navigate the ways in which they experience Aromanticism. They bottle it up and when things go wrong probably find it easier to just blame themselves for not being enough or their partner when really, they just have to look into themselves and their orientation. I think black women could feel more assertive in themselves if they realized that they can be Aromantic and not pushed into this box where they have to play a role they don’t want to play. Black women deserve to explore romantic orientations as well as sexual ones and have a deep dive into how they feel. And that should be respected. To black Aromantic people I say keep pushing the odds, keep daring to form a new mold for black kids to come because we’re drowned in content and media that tells us we’re overly sexualized and romanticized and that can change with us. Our families and friends may not understand, the world may not even understand, but as long as you get who you are that’s honestly all that matters. As a collective we can help each other learn and grow, we can push each other in our advocacy and know it’s not a competition. All our efforts should be us trying to get Aromanticism to be taken as seriously as any other orientation.

Being Aroflux and Black by Kimberly Butler (@/TheAsexualGoddess) on AUREA (2021)

[moonshynecybin]

I’ve only been into/started following MotoGP for a few months. Can I ask how exactly did Marc getting the Ducati seat go down? I’ve seen references of it being jorge messing up/rejecting the seat and that somehow leading to Marc masterminding his way to it but don’t fully get it. Thank you :))))

lmao it was awesome. under the cut shes crazy shes long shes the war of the roses shes game of thrones shes ducati being fucking STUPID !!!!!

okay so the beginning of this season going towards the middle was like. genuinely dominated by discussion of who would end up with the second factory ducati seat, and there were 3 main candidates for the position: 1. enea bastianini, who had the seat but who had had a spotty 2023 marred by injury and was delivering inconsistent results in the early part of 2024, 2. jorge martin, who had been basically promised the seat ahead of them uno reversing and signing enea, and who had contended for the title the year before/was leading the world championship early in 2024, and 3. marc marquez, 8 time world champion and arguable GOAT of the sport, who was doing insane comeback rides on a year old bike that he had very little time to adapt to. on pure results, you would have to go with martin (it was p clear it wasnt going to be my girl enea....), but marc looked uh. very promising and very dangerous (apparently his data, ESPECIALLY in the left handers, was like. bonkers), and who was also undeniably a better business asset to ducati as a company trying to sell motorbikes. and as we all knowwwwww, ducati had BY FARRRR the most dominant bike on the grid, so they are staring down the barrel of like. deciding between three excellent riders for one, extremely coveted seat. they think they hold all the cards here, and after a bit of rampant speculation the ducati bosses say everybody calm the fuck down we will make a decision about the gp25 seat at MUGELLO. forza. and with that the stage is set.

but again. ducati had basically promised jorge martin that seat. in fact, there was a provision in his contract that said if he won the world title in 2023, he would automatically be promoted to the factory team. like if marc doesnt come in on his merry way essentially doing a year long AUDITION for that seat up-to and including crowd-commanding theatrics, then it is undeniably martin's bike to have. and it looks like ducati kinda thought they should honor that too! because it was reported (unofficially but through a multitude of reliable sources) on the thursday before mugello that jorge martin WOULD be signing with the factory ducati team to be in red for 2025 IMMINENTLY. and he shows up to the presscon with the moon shinging out of his ass and we didnt rlly have a reason to doubt him so things are looking pretty locked up tbh

so another piece of the puzzle. for the last few years one cog in the wheel of ducati's dominance has been them having EIGHT bikes on the grid, and as such having insane amounts of data to comb through and synthesize while developing the bike. at the time, the team with the most factory support is pramac racing. but YAMAHA have made a promise to a young shirtless man named fabio quartararo that they will get a satellite team for 2024 to help with THEIR efforts, and pramac's contract with ducati is expiring so theyre the top choice. yamaha offers them a fuck you amount of cash and full factory support to leave ducati and come run the M1s with them. and the thing is, it is EXPENSIVE to run an independent team and this sugar daddy style deal would essentially lock down their immediate future quite nicely, so they are thinking HARD about this— because if they lose jorge martin like. what the fuck are they doing not taking that deal. and YOU are asking me girl what the fuck does this had to do with marc marquez WELLLLL. ducati know that marc wants a gp25. and pramac has the factory spec bikes. and marc's famous ass is a VERY valuable little bargaining chip in their eyes. so ducati APPARENTLY wanted marc on the same deal jorge martin was on (complete with the promise of factory promotion if he won the championship) at PRAMAC in order to keep marc, jorge martin, and pramac all under the umbrella of ducati racing. they think problem solved :) we get to keep everything and everyone :) marc gets a current spec bike, jorge gets to be on the factory team, and we can still run eight bikes :) awesome.

WELL! marc catches wind of all of this and goes. fuck you i want to be a factory rider on a gp25. like why on earth would he move from busted satellite team to busted satellite team that doesnt even have his BROTHER ? so instead of keeping all of these negotiations behind closed doors he trots right the fuck up to the press at mugello and says hello yes i have ABSOLUTELY no intention of riding for pramac, in fact i only have the intention of riding with factory teams. big smile. fuck you. press run wild. domino tipped. pramac pissed off. ducati SWEATING.

AND i guess the ducati CEO (claudioooooo) was there. and some big sponsorship guys (audiiiiiii) were there. and it has been LONG been reported that gigi daligna really wanted marc for that seat (and that pecco REALLY didnt lmao). like bad. some would say carnally. and then i guess they looked at his data. and thought about how well he had already adapted to the gp23. and how badly he was beating bez and company. and i suppose the idea of actually losing marc and him going to a KTM or an aprilia scared the actual genuine NIPS off of these guys and literally by sunday night they had apparently called jorge martin to let him know that it wasnt going to be him and he went over to aleix and got that aprilia contract signed genuinely immediately (and enea later signed with ktm and pramac with yamaha). so the aprilia news was announced on monday and we knew marc was the choice from that, and then they announced it officially in the dumbest smuggest little video of all time a lil while after. but not before marc took a selfie in a shirt that said FACTORY PILOT that he later lied about and said wasnt on purpose. king. done and dusted. insanity.

so to recap: in the course of four days, marc essentially pulled a coup out of thin air by just. deciding to exercise some muscle with the press, which caused ducati to lose two bikes, secured the best seat on the grid for himself, and made sure that two of the riders that finished top four in this year's championship (including the CHAMPION) are on much worse machines going into next year. like he literally created the best possible outcome for himself by virtue of his reputation, media savvy, and sheer force of will. it was absolute crazy shit and SO much fun to watch play out live

[elexuscal]

Welcome to the Murderbot Diaries Fandom!

Hello, hello! Our favorite anxious half robot, half-human security construct has made it to streaming, introducing it to a whole new audience! While that leaves the temptation to put on our helmets and hide in the corner, I'm putting my best foot forward to mimic Dr. Mensah and welcome you all to our hab!

My intention with this post is to give a little bit of a guide to newcomers to get them situated, and generally just say hi.

What's Murderbot?

Murderbot is the titular character of The Murderbot Diaries, a book series by Martha Wells. Book 1, All Systems Red, is currently being adapted by a new streaming series on Apple TV. The (two) series follow a rogue ‘SecurityUnit’ as it befriends humans and robots alike, steals its freedom, and does what it can against the hyper-capitalist companies that rule much of the galaxy.

Spoilers Abound!

As far as we can tell, the (presumed first) season of the Murderbot show will cover only book 1 of what is currently a six-book series (with two additional short stories, and two more entries planned).

As such, there will be spoilers lurking in the tags! This includes future events, reveals, and characters.

If you're new and don't want to be spoiled, stick to the tags #Murderbot Show and #Murderbot TV. It's also a courtesy of fans of the book series to keep TV show discussion in that tag as opposed to the book tags #Murderbot Diaries and #TMBD. (Though I'm going to be honest, there's like a bazillion tags at this point so this might be a losing battle. Oh well, we try!)

Sharing Spaces

The fundamental themes are Murderbot are about the power of kindness and compassion, and the importance of respecting those different from you. Those are ideals I hope we can continue to foster as our little fandom grows.

What does that mean?

Primarily, it means recognizing that there are going to be different perspectives, and that's okay! Some people are really excited by an adaptation of the books they love; some are skeptical. Plus, of course a whole bunch of folks who have only just been introduced to MB via TV! All are valid! Let's not be rude to those who disagree with our own perspective.

It also means respecting different interpretations of the character and stories. We don't know how much the story of books and show are going to diverge; certainly, even faithful adaptations need to make changes to take advantage of a new medium. And indeed, even when you're reading the same text, people can come away with very different perspectives. We need to make room for all those perspectives to hang out together.

Identity and Representation

The Murderbot of the books is nonbinary, using it/its pronouns. There’s heavy emphasis in the text that Murderbot is wholly uninterested in both sex and romance, and it is therefore very commonly interpreted as asexual and aromantic, not to mention touch-averse and neurodivergent. As such, you'll find many folks from these communities within the fandom. Please try to be kind and respectful of these groups!

As always, the fandom principles of 'Ship and Let Ship' and 'Your Kink Is Not My Kink (And That's Okay)' applies. That said, it's a two way street, and there are ways to approach shipping that recognises why many other fans won't share your interests. Write shippy fic, draw shippy art, just tag appropriately and be respectful of ace and aro-spec identities as you do.

Respecting representation also extends to visual depictions of the characters! With a new show out, it of course follows that many people will be making fanart reflecting its cast! However, the books themselves are often very scant on physical descriptions, reflecting Murderbot's often laconic style. This leaves a bit of a blank canvas for fanart. While we're definitely going to be seeing a lot of fanart representing Skarsgard's Murderbot (as well as the rest of the show's cast), you’re also going to be seeing pieces  taking inspiration from other places, such the official book cover art by Tommy Arnold,  the voice actor of the audiobooks, Kevin R. Free, and artists’ own imagination! This means other interpretations of the characters in terms of racial background, build, and gender presentation. That's awesome! Let's keep enthusiasm for all ways of depicting this awesome universe going!

Fandom Is Fun

Above all, fandom is a place of joy, connection, and creativity. Be kind to others; block those who are bringing you down; share and emphasize the things you love!

If this is your first time finding Murderbot; welcome! I think you've got a real treat ahead of you. I'm glad you're here. 👋

[penguinsfly]

I unfortunately saw something I didn't want to see and that was my last straw. I'm fucking doing this.

Let's establish this first. Alastor is stated in the show to be asexual that is not up to discussion. He is also very heavily implied in the same conversation to be aromatic. 'An Ace in the hole' being used in context of him being with Charlie is also implying his aromanticism.

VIDEO

If that's not enough then here is Viv speaking about his romantic orientation. It's pretty clear despite the fact that afterwards she said it's okay to headcanon whatever (it's not but I will get o that later) that he is written purely as an aro ace character.

On top of that going by Alastor's interaction with Angel from the pilot and the first episode it is clear that he is sex repulsed. Not only that but on the fandom website he is stated to be touch averse with two sources which you can check out on the website.

Hazbin hotel wiki, Alastor page

Now we established that Alastor is canonically Asexual, Aromantic, Sex Repulsed and Touch Averse

As I also am all of the above I'll try to explain everything to the best of my ability as simply as I can.

Aromanticism and Asexuality.

I'm probably targeting the audience that knows those terms but regardless I will explain it anyway.

Aromantic - people that experience little to no romantic attraction towards any gender

Asexual - people that experience little to no sexual attraction towards any gender.

Little to no

Asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums in which people can feel certain attractions towards people but those attractions are less occurring or are defined by personal connection.

Diagram from AVEN website

However some people are at the end of the spectrum, they never felt attraction and that's valid. Alastor was stated to be aroace he wasn't written as demi or as gray he was written as aroace as in the end of the spectrum. His repulsion and not giving shit about romance or sex speaks for itself.

Representation

I do understand that everyone wants to be represented but it's so important to understand that aroace people are one of the most underrepresented queer groups in the media.

And I'm not here to scream about how I want my fav character to be just like me I don't care for it I'm way too confident in my orientation to rely on that however I'm tired of explaining to people what asexuality and aromanticism is just to receive 'are you sure' or 'you'll change your mind' or 'its not real' or the community favourite 'you'll find the right person' no I won't I'm not looking thank you very much (I just smile and nod to be polite and I'm sick of it).

'Harmless' buts like: 'He might be on the spectrum', 'AroAce people can still feel attraction' hurt the final outcome for all the people on the spectrum not only strictly aroaces because it allows people to write one shots with 'Demi Alastor' that falls in love in 2000 words because he is 'demi' (spoiler alert: they don't understand what that label means). It's just a cover, an opening, sneaky way to disregard his orientation, feel good about themselves and move on. Newsflash there is no moving on for aroace people it's our life.

Shipping

Shipping is just harmless fun right? Usually yes but not in this case. In the same way its not okay to ship gay characters with genders they are not attracted to.

It's erasure and since there is much less people identifying on aro/ace spectrums then there is gay or bi people our voices are being silenced. Not to mention that gay people received support from entire LGBTQIA+ community over the years in contrast to aro/ace specs who to this day are told that we are 'not queer enough' or 'not oppressed enough' often by other queer people.

And finally... FINALLY we get cannon Aro/Ace character that is clearly not interested in romance and sex. Character that beats stereotypes of boring and timid aro/ace people and what's the first people do? They ship him. Alastor's storyline provides so many points to be explored like 'what is his backstory', ' what's about his deal', ' how does he fit in in the found family trope' , 'does he care about hotel guests' yet people choose to write about the only thing that he is not interested in. As a heavily repulsed person that used to be horrified about the fact that I'll have to fall in love with somebody at some point before I found out what aro/ace is I find it repulsive and trust me he would too.

But Viv said it's okay!

Its the same point once again. What if Viv said that it's okay to ship gay Angel with woman. She doesn't have authority to say shit like that.

Queerplatonic relationships

I can't tell you not to do it I don't think he would be necessary interested in it but for fuck sake do your research and try to understand what queerplatonic means before you use it as a cover to shamelessly ship him. Respect the fact that he is sex repulsed and touch averse and you're fine.

Why can't you just avoid it?

First of all I shouldn't have to. Alastor's orientation should be respected in the fandom like any other orientation is. Second of all I've tried. I tried to only look up AroAce Alastor tag I've blocked over 80 people on tumblr alone (I just counted) to avoid to see anything that could trigger me and I'm not talking about slightly shippy posts or fanarts I'm talking about full blown disregard towards his orientation. Guess what it didn't work!

Archive of our own where do I start. I've used this website for over a decade and I could probably count days I didn't go there on my fingers. I'm fluent in AO3 I know which tags I should block. I know how to skim thorough the summary and tags to see if I'm interested. I've seen shit I'm a shipper I've been on ao3 for ten years but never had to mentally prepare myself to face queerphobia as I click on the tab.

Just use aro/ace Alastor tag.

I do and let me tell you people can't tag for shit or they just pretend to be clueless at this point. Besides see this?

there is more ff with Alastor/reader (disgusting) than there is Alastor with his canon orientation and to play the devils advocate for arophobic people there is more Angel/Alastor then his stated in the show sexuality. I understand that fandom goes back before the show was aired but Viv confirmed his orientation back then too.

Summary

I could go on and on bout different issues and maybe I will in the future but I'm not wasting anymore of this weekend on it. I'm ready to answer any questions as long as they are respectful.

I'm aware that he is a fictional character, it doesn't affect him in any way whatsoever but it does affect aromantic and asexual people keep it in mind.

If there are any mistakes grammar related I'm not sorry I'm fluent in English (not my first language) but I took 3h nap in between and I'm sleep deprived.

Have a nice day.

[anthurak]

Having been rewatching some of Ice Queendom lately, I’d like to talk about something I really wanted to discuss after the series wrapped, but haven’t gotten around to until now.

Namely, the shows use of Jaune, and specifically how it’s one of my biggest issues with the anime.

Now talking about this is somewhat complicated because I don’t have any issues with how Ice Queendom presents and writes Jaune directly. In fact I was actually pretty IMPRESSED watching the show at the frankly keen understanding the writers seemed to have of Jaune’s character and what he’s meant to represent.

Namely, that Jaune is a massive subversion of so many classic male fantasy-hero protagonists. He’s NOT some cool, badass fighter and whenever he tries to be one, he gets his ass handed to him. Instead, he’s able to show his real strength by supporting and helping others.

And there’s a bunch of great subtle details like how Jaune’s dream weapon being this flashy, oversized sword that he just cannot fucking use not matter how hard he tries is just the PERFECT metaphor for his character in the early volumes. A weapon that represents all the ‘big strong hero guy’ expectations Jaune believed he had to live up to at the beginning of the show but is actually IMPOSSIBLE for him to use because that’s NOT what he’s really meant for. And the one time he IS able to wield that sword is though the assistance and support of his friends, namely (dream)Pyrrha, which in turn provides a great hint towards his still-dormant semblance.

Instead, the real issue I have is that every time I look back on Ice Queendom and see Jaune, I can’t help but ask myself ‘Why is Jaune even here?’ Specifically, WHY does the story need Jaune to be Team RWBY’s ‘guest party member’ to go into Weiss’s dream to rescue her from the Nightmare?

Now sure, they bring up the idea that Jaune having just been possessed by a Nightmare basically ‘inoculated’ him to the Grimm and could allow him to be undetected by the Nightmare possessing Weiss. But let’s be real; that’s a justification, NOT a true narrative REASON for Jaune to be going into Weiss’s Nightmare.

Because what actual connection does Jaune even HAVE to Weiss that would give him a thematic reason to be going into her Nightmare? He’s not on her team and they only even met a few weeks ago. Especially given that IQ even removes almost all references to Jaune having any kind of big crush on Weiss. During Ruby’s first visit to the nightmare, we see what Weiss thinks of him:

Lumped in with Nora, Ren, Cardin and literally everyone else she doesn’t have time or patience for.

So what’s the actual narrative potential of Jaune joining Ruby, Blake and Yang to save Weiss? How can he tie into the story of Weiss’s character and Ruby’s, Blake’s and Yang’s attempts to free her?

Simply put, he can’t. And so he DOESN’T. Instead it feels like the only reason Jaune is here is simply because he’s the most prominent supporting character in the franchise.

And the REASON this sticks out to me so much is that I can’t help but think that a different character would have made a far, far BETTER option to join Ruby, Blake and Yang to save Weiss:

PYRRHA.

I mean, the reasons for Pyrrha going into the Nightmare to help Weiss kinda write themselves, right? From minute one it’s clear the Weiss idolizes Pyrrha, and it’s really all but outright stated she has a huge crush on Pyrrha. It’s only natural that Ruby, Blake and Yang would go to her for help getting past Weiss’s emotional defenses in the dream.

Like I think it’s easy to imagine how Ruby might happen upon this idea: In her first entry into Weiss’s Nightmare, Ruby could note that Jaune, Ren and Nora are all in ‘Silly Jail’, but Pyrrha notably ISN’T. And later while scouting or perhaps while fleeing from Weiss, perhaps Ruby catches a glimpse, far off, of Pyrrha within the walls of Weiss’s castle, perhaps looking out a window.

And when Ruby mentions this to the others, Shion could comment that this means that Pyrrha is special to Weiss, and thus keeps her memory ‘close’ to her. At this point we’d probably get Yang chiming in with a quip about how Weiss ‘Hasn’t exactly been subtle about that.’

Then of course, one of Ruby, Blake or Yang hit on the idea that if they brought Pyrrha into the nightmare, she might be able to get past Weiss’s defenses much more easily. Something which Shion confirms to be very likely. From there, RBY seek out Pyrrha for her help much like what happened with Jaune. But with the difference being that Pyrrha being some kind of ‘secret weapon’ feels FAR more natural based on what we already saw in the show up to that point.

And from that point on, I feel like it’s kind of obvious just how well Pyrrha would fit into the narrative and both Weiss’s and Ruby’s character arcs. Like I joked about a ‘White Rose/Schneekos Love Triangle’ while the show was airing, but that’s kind of exactly what we see potentially set up in the first three episodes of IQ:

Weiss is clearly massively enamored with and idolizes Pyrrha, while Ruby really wants Weiss to like her and be friends with her.

And placing Pyrrha into the nightmare as a major figure alongside Ruby, Blake and Yang for Weiss gives the perfect opportunities to play Pyrrha and Ruby off of Weiss. Exploring what Weiss being so enamored with Pyrrha actually means to her, what that could mean for her feelings about Ruby, and how Ruby and Pyrrha could get her to confront those feelings.

Imagine the story making a point about Weiss having essentially put Pyrrha up on the constructed, idealized pedestal instead of knowing the actual Pyrrha, and then contrasting this by showing that Ruby actually embodies so many of the traits Weiss idolizes Pyrrha for.

Which in turn has Pyrrha being the one to help Weiss realize that.

Not to mention on the flipside, this change would give us a lot of Pyrrha and Ruby interaction. Which I think we can all agree would be VERY fun and interesting.

I mean just picture Ruby really wanting Pyrrha’s help to save Weiss, while also clearly repressing a fair bit of insecurity and maybe even a bit of jealousy over how enamored Weiss is with Pyrrha, which in turn leads to a meaningful and cute conversation where Pyrrha gives Ruby a much-needed pep-talk while also diving into Pyrrha’s own well-hidden insecurities and generally revealing just how similar these two really are.

Which in turn perfectly plays into Ruby’s journey to save Weiss across Ice Queendom.

Finally, there is a more subtle, but perhaps most meaningful reason why I think Pyrrha would have made a much better option over Jaune:

For as well as Ice Queendom writes him, we really don’t learn anything new about Jaune that we didn’t already know. The fact is, we know Jaune pretty well after the (at the time of IQ’s release) eight volumes he’s had in the show.

So what if instead of a character we’ve already spent all this time with, what if Ice Queendom focused on a character we only had three volumes to get to know?

A character who, unlike Jaune, Nora, Ren or basically any of the other supporting characters at this time in the story, is no longer around to get focus or development.

Simply put, Pyrrha being the member of Team JNPR to get the most focus in Ice Queendom would have been a chance to explore and develop a character who we simply DON’T have opportunity to do so in the series proper.

[samm1e13]

L.O.V.E

🎮 tomura shigaraki x fem!reader smau

a strangers/online friends to lovers university au

masterlist / graphic design / you know toga?

main menu;

level one; graphic design

cw; nothing this chapter, just a little background information to start us off

lost in a daydream, you fail to notice the body dropping into the seat next to yours. it’s only when there’s a thump on the desk that your eyes snapped to the boy who silently entered your space. you recognize him as tomura, you’ve seen him in this class before but never so close.

“sorry ‘s the only seat available.” a glance around the room indicated he’s telling the truth, and given that class started fifteen minutes ago, you’re not surprised.

“no worries, you’re okay.” you smile and he nods, turning his head towards the front where the professor drones on about the next project. 

you attempt to listen, but your gaze drifts back out the window. you really wish you hadn’t let shigs convince you to play another round of league last night, now you can hardly keep your eyes open and you have forty-five minutes left of this class.

“this will be a two person project. it’s forty percent of your grade and will take about two months. you and your partner will work together to come up with a website idea and design the website together. the website will need to meet certain requirements.” your focus hones in on the professor as they begin to explain the project specifics.

“all of the project information can be found online in the class forum under the ‘design a website’ folder. your partners will be the people sitting next to or closest to you, if you do not have a partner please see me right away and i will see what i can do. best of luck to you all, you may use the rest of class time to discuss with your partners.” as the professor finishes speaking, your gaze finds tomura, who is boredly staring at his computer screen, the project information on display as he tilts his head to you.

“i don’t think i know your name.” he speaks quietly, more so than he usually does, and you think you hear a hint of shame or embarrassment in his tone.

“oh! it’s y/n, and you’re tomura, right?” you play it off as a question, in hopes that it’ll make him feel more comfortable, he simply nods again before returning his gaze to the screen.

it’s silent for a while as he scrolls through the project requirements and you debate messaging shigs to ask if he wants to game later. you decide against it as tomura looks to you again.

“it’s pretty straight forward, like the professor said.” he turns the screen in your direction and you think you see a notification for league of legends but it’s gone too soon. you quickly skim over the words written on the screen before looking up and catching his gaze.

“so we basically have to make a business website or something similar?” you notice the way his fingers twitch as his cheek rests against his hand before he nods.

“yeah basically, it can be commercial or personal, as long as it meets the specs set up by the professor.” his fingers slip beneath his jaw to scratch at the side of his neck, you assume it’s an anxious tick so you move your gaze back to the screen.

“yeah that makes sense, like game developers need to make sure the codes are correct before moving on to the next level.” you see his lips quirk up in a small smile and know you’ve succeeded in making him relax.

“yeah exactly! hey, maybe that could be our topic?” his voice takes a more upbeat tone and it makes you beam.

“you and i are going to get along great!” his throat rumbles with a chuckle at your words and your face flushes when your eyes meet.

level one; graphic design completed!

one achievement unlocked; new friend!

tag list; [open]

@nkox, @dumbassbrigade, @va-3, @kodditty, @personally4runa

mutual tags; @shigarakislaughter, @chaoslibra, @sexylexy12

samm1e13 tumblr 2025 ©️ don’t use, copy, steal or translate my works for any reason.

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger part 19

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet / next

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

Please check out the poll at the end of the chapter!

Two young adults were sat in silence in one of the rooms of the palace, an owl sat in the windowsill, ready to both intervene, and relay information to her mentee and friend, and his wife. For an hour neither spoke, not knowing what to say, but time was ticking as guests of the palace trickled in, coming from far and wide for the celebration.

Awkwardly, Ónoma started the conversation. “So, you like me.”

“You don’t have to sound so disappointed about it.” Telemachus answered, somewhat angrily.

“I am disappointed though.” She stopped him from interrupting her. “It’s not because you are not good enough or anything, I just thought that, for once, I wasn’t just a woman, a potential partner to someone. I thought it was just friendship, true friendship, but now I don’t know.” She trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

“We are friends, you are more than just some girl, that’s why I like you.” Telemachus started, but Ónoma cut him off.

“I don’t know if I can trust your intentions. You are the greatest, sweetest, most thoughtful friend I’ve ever had, but I can no longer tell if that’s because of who you are, or if it is because you wanted something more from me.” She explained. “And it sucks, because I don’t want to paint you as some manipulative mastermind, but my mind can’t help but wonder. It’s not far-fetched either, because your father is a known wordsmith and you’ve been taken under Lady Athena’s wings as well.” She paused. “I don’t want to hurt you by suggesting that you could’ve done that, but you must understand why I might think that.”

The prince was silent, speechless even. Matters of the heart are truly the greatest challenge one can face. After a long pause he came to a conclusion. “Perhaps it’s best if I keep my distance for a while, to get over it, you know.”

“Or we could find you a nice princess tonight.” She offered hopefully. Both of them knew Telemachus’ solution was the best one, but neither wanted to go without the other. Through the years they’d developed an almost co-dependency.

“It’s worth a try.” He replied, taking her hand and holding it to his chest for a moment. It only broke his heart to hear her suggest considering other women, but for now, with her hand near his heart, it ached a little less.

When the two friends got to the main hall, the party was already in full swing. Ónoma felt entirely out of place amongst the royals and nobles in attendance. She spotted Odysseus talking animatedly with a man she assumed to be Diomedes of Argos, king Nestor was also easily recognizable, his age a dead giveaway, but aside from that she could not conclude who any of these people were.

Most of the man’s comrades from the Trojan war were no longer amongst the living, so she wondered if he himself even knew these people, or if this party was more strategic than she’d first thought. An opportunity of diplomacy, under the guise of celebration. The man had relied on Xenia a lot during his journey.

The last people to arrive were easy to recognize, Helen’s beauty was easily recognizable, and Menelaus was, well, Menelaus. He was not unpleasant, but there was something off about him. At least he wasn’t his brother, Ónoma would not be surprised if Agamemnon had a spot in Tartarus. All that she’d heard about the man was rather unpleasant.

The celebration had gone by surprisingly well; Ónoma had had a discussion with king Nestor, the man truly had learned a lot in his long life and had some meaningful insight in certain things. Diomedes had approached her, asking about her role in fighting off the suitors commended her bravery. She’d let the sexist undertones slide, not wanting to get in trouble with him, but she’d appreciated the praise none the less.

Menelaus had mistaken her for a palace slave, and she’d awkwardly redirected him to the servants. She did not receive an apology from him, but his wife had been pleasant enough. Their daughter had been even nicer, Hermione had been able to marry the man she wanted to after the passing of Neoptolemus and had been thriving ever since. After speaking about her with Telemachus, however, she learned that she was not a fan of the girl, with what she’d tried to do to Andromache.

Polycaste had been incredibly pleasant company. She’d ended up talking of her troubles with the daughter of Nestor, leaving out some details, but the girl had had interesting views. Her father’s wisdom had clearly rubbed off on her. Perhaps she’d be a good match for Telemachus, the two of them seemed to get along quite well.

Even more surprising had been the actions of the Ithacan king, he’d apologized to her and had proceeded to boast about her to the other attendants; how she’d defended his wife, gaining the aid of a God in doing so, how she was vital to the workflow of the island and of her duties in the temple. Perhaps this was his attempt at making things right after his previous actions, but Ónoma did not appreciate all the attention, even if she recognized that he had good intentions.

Telemachus did not appreciate the attention his friend was getting either, sure he’d promised not to act on his feelings, but that didn’t mean they no longer existed. Competing with a God was bad enough, now there were other princes, even kings vying for her attention. not that she showed interest.

At the end of the night Ónoma had danced more than she ever had before, being unable to refuse any of the men who’d asked because of their status. She all but ran home the second she was able to do so. she was dizzy and exhausted and promptly passed out the second her head hit the pillow, still wearing the fancy clothes and jewellery.

Next.

A/n: If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know. I might mess up, but you can always check out the tag "epic the stranger saga" as all works related are tagged with this.

I might make a spin-off/ alternate ending series, since this series is nearing the end. let me know if you'd be interested in the following:

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target

@barrythestrawberry041

@darling-eos

@doodle-with-rhy

@glaciuswduo

@hardbarbarianfox

@h0ne4bee

@isla-finke-blog

@keikeiluvyou

@missam

@suckerforblondies

@trashcannotbealive

@visha1965

[mirrorcatcreditcard]

Why won't my brain leave me alo-

Y'ALL I'M FINALLY WRITING THAT ALIEN STAGE HISTORICAL AU AND MY FUCKING GOD THIS IS GOING *DEEP* AND I CAN'T DO ANYTHING ABOUT THE EMOTIONS WELLING UP INSIDE OF ME THAT I CAN'T EXPRESS BECAUSE AHDLSBSKSBSK

I have everything I could ask for in a fic and more because I do what I want.

MiziTill dated as teenagers but they're now friendly exes.

Sua killed her fiance.

HyunLuka is in the fucking trenches but they're so perfect for each other I want to bash my head into a wall

IvanLuka is thriving in toxic yaoi as they play this fucked up dance of bargaining information and making out.

Ivan and Mizi are best friends in a contract marriage and pretty much have weekly sleepovers where they make crafts and rant about their crushes/relationships.

Till wasn't even assigned a gender at birth and is nonbinary.

Dewey bombs the clock tower at the capitol because he misread the mission before eating the paper.

The entire cast is queer; ¾ of the cast is trans (or maybe all the cast idk); ¼ of the cast is intersex (Sua, Luka, & Acorn [yes, Acorn is important]).

The fucking plot relies on discussion of aphobia and aroace erasure due to the empire's religion. (The entire main cast is under the aro-spec, ace-spec, or aroace-spec umbrella.)

Hyun Woo is alive and frequently swaps out jobs with his sister because they're near identical with enough make-up. Yes, they're spies.

Hyun-A is a revolutionary leader.

Multishippers, in case you're worried, polyamory/polygamy is encouraged. We have room for everyone.

You guys are going to love to hate the emperor.

Multiple different culture references because I'm afraid of just using one country and doing something wrong and pissing people off so all the countries are fictional

I'M GOING TO CRY ALL I WANT TO DO IS WRITE BUT I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS AND I'M WILLING TO MAKE ANYTHING OR DO REQUESTS BUT AKDVSKDBSKSB

I don't care who. Please go in my inbox and ask for something about this AU so I can center my tasks. Please, I'm begging y'all moots and strangers and followers alike 🙏 y'all can just ask for ship content if you want I'll feed you, prommy

(I'm supposed to tag someone but I forgot their user sksksks lemme go find it and add it)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Tips: Studying at Home

Adjust your learning

The first thing to acknowledge is that an online education demands a different style of learning as opposed to the traditional classroom environment.

You should be aware that you will need to adjust your learning style to ensure you get the most out of any online learning experience by doing things such as:

Fully commit yourself to join in with digital discussions so you are still actively learning and developing key skills such as debating and listening.

Be prepared to try new tech - with new online learning platforms and video calling functions, prepare to become adaptable and open to trying new technologies.

Collaborate with others - whether that’s over instant messenger outside of class/tutoring time, or with online discussions - get involved and you’ll make the most out of your learning experience.

Be self-disciplined - You will need to ensure that you’re ahead with the class work, pre-reading course materials where you can and ensuring excellent time management to prevent missing classes. All of this will help you to get the most out of your online learning.

Clear Distractions

When setting up your home study and/or work space, make sure there is nothing in the background that may distract you or your classmates/co-workers.

That includes putting your phone in a separate room or turning it off completely to avoid taking your attention during your online learning. 

It’s important to note that you may also need to move your work space throughout the day - perhaps you may need to move as sunlight comes through your window to avoid screen glare.

So have a think about this before you are forced to move and re-position halfway through a learning session.

Use headphones and a microphone (where possible)

If you have them, make sure you use headphones and a microphone so you can clearly hear your tutor/classmates, as well as deliver clean and clear audio for easy flow of communication.

Even if you don’t have access to this, most laptops do have a reasonably high-spec audio and microphone set already built into them, however having a specific kit will always elevate your sound and audio quality.

Make sure your camera is stable

Again, to help avoid distractions during your online learning, make sure your laptop or webcam is sturdy and pointing ahead to avoid any strange angles. 

Also, don’t sit too close to your camera either as the audio could muffle if you are sitting close to the microphone on your device. 

Prevent interruptions

We’ve all seen that BBC News video interview - and we know you certainly don’t want to have the same happen to you. 

To avoid this, make sure anyone you live with is aware that you will be doing some online learning from home and to ask them to leave you alone to concentrate.

If you can, close a door and stick a sign on the outside of it, making it clear that you cannot be disturbed.

Pre-prepare resources

If you have work that you want to share with your tutor or other students during a video lesson, make sure you have them ready and waiting on your desktop with clear file names, and are ideally already open and waiting before you start.

This will avoid time-wasting if you need to hunt around your downloads folder and browser tabs. 

Strong Wi-Fi connection

Before joining an online session, make sure your Wi-Fi session is working and up to scratch.

The website; Speed Test will help you to see what sort of internet speeds you’re currently getting, and whether they will be strong enough to support video calls.

There are a few obvious steps too to try and consider to improve your Wi-Fi strength, such as putting your internet box up high on a sideboard, making sure nothing is covering it, and setting up your work space close to where the box is. 

If you do have a poor Wi-Fi connection, you may struggle to host a video call, so it’s worth considering if there’s any other locations you could use for your learning session - perhaps a friend or relative’s home?

Pre-read material

If possible, review any resources and material that you’ll be studying before your online learning session.

This will give you the chance to prepare for any discussions, have questions ready to ask about subject matter that you haven’t quite fully understood, as well as help the new knowledge to be absorbed ever so slightly easier. 

Source ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References

[despazito]

is it like…unethical to have anime figurines? Because of overproduction? Are you a bad person if you have those or video games or something? I’m not trying to be rude I’m just genuinely asking if those are things that you should abstain from if you want to be a good person

i think it can be easy for guilt-prone people like myself to get carried away and argue our way into a corner where everything we enjoy and consume is in some way unethical or wasteful, but imo the key is always moderation and learning where the stuff we like comes from.

i'll admit i'm not really into fig collecting, i like soft toys so i know more about the production of plush compared to the life cycle of a figurine. if you care about workers rights and being less wasteful, you can research different manufacturers and buy from those whose production methods match your values. yes its all plastic but i don't think abstaining from all plastic consumption is sadly realistic.

the easiest way to be an eco-conscious fig collector is to buy used figs from the resell market, if you're into older series this is often the only way to get merch anyway. on average japanese used merch is in better shape than north american merch and resellers have higher quality control standards.

you can also be vocal and give feedback to merch companies and support products that are more eco-friendly. Goodsmile recently tried to launch a greener cardboard box for their nendoroids, but unfortunately backtracked due to consumer backlash. i think we should also have a discussion about blind boxes, i love the knickknacks but imo the concept encourages excess consumption. being vocal and organizing like-minded people about steering your hobby in a more responsible direction i think is more productive than just abandoning something you enjoy.

I think it's just important to be mindful of overconsumption. are you buying this collectors item just to tick off a box or is it something you will genuinely cherish? sometimes it can be both, but if you find yourself collecting more out of obligation to your collection than out of joy i would reassess my relationship with said collection.

i didn't touch on video games but considering many games now are digital releases i don't think its really harmful to buy games or ever was. i think we should ask ourselves how much graphics power is enough and to keep games accessible to lower performing older machines instead of an arms race demanding you keep up with the latest specs to run a game that inexplicably requires 100 GB of disc space. i think the biggest battle is to vouch for the longevity of gaming PCs to reduce e-waste and dialing back required specs in the game dev industry, some installs nowadays are just needlessly bloated.

i would heavily caution against falling into a good person/bad person dichotomy with stuff like this, it can really mess with your head to have this mindset and at its most severe can enter moral OCD territory. unless you specifically enjoy collecting orphan skulls as a hobby i think there's always levels of nuance.