#dating script development

[windlion]

all right why are we acting like the sky is falling at tumblr again?

[gemharvest]

Seeing people getting worried about the FNaF 2 movie having a release date of fall 2025 and like. I'm not gonna lie I'd feel weird if they got a sequel out only a year after the FNaF movie released.

[panaromicinoftechs]

Mastering Mobile App Localization: The Ultimate Guide

[smithjoe]

A Step-by-Step Guide to Launching Your Own Tinder Clone App

Are you looking to create your dating app? Look no further than this step-by-step guide to launching your Tinder clone app. With the increasing popularity of online dating, making your dating app can be a lucrative business idea. This guide will walk you through the entire process, from concept to launch, ensuring you have all the tools and knowledge necessary to create a successful app.

Understanding the Market Demand for Dating Apps

The first step in launching your Tinder clone app is understanding the market demand for dating apps. Dating apps have gained immense popularity in recent years, with millions of users worldwide searching for potential partners online. 

It presents a significant opportunity for entrepreneurs and developers to enter the market and create a successful app. Analyze the top-performing dating apps and study their features, user base, and revenue models. Look for gaps in the market that your app can fill or unique features that differentiate it from existing apps.

Researching Competitors and Identifying Unique Selling Points

Once you clearly understand the market demand and competition, it's time to research your competitors and identify unique selling points for your Tinder clone app. 

Start by creating a list of the top dating apps in the market and analyze their strengths and weaknesses. For example, you notice that most dating apps focus on casual relationships. In that case, you can differentiate your app by targeting users looking for long-term commitments or specific niche interests.

Consider implementing unique features or functionalities that will set your app apart. It could be anything from advanced matching algorithms based on interests or compatibility to unique communication features that enhance the user experience.

Identifying the Key Features of a Successful Tinder Clone App

Tinder is known for its simple yet effective features that have revolutionized the dating app industry. Understanding and incorporating these key features is important to create a successful Tinder clone app.

User Profiles

Allow users to create profiles with relevant information such as bio, photos, and interests. It helps users find potential matches based on shared interests.

Swipe Functionality

Implement the iconic swipe feature that allows users to swipe right to like someone or leave to pass. This intuitive gesture-based interaction is a core element of the Tinder experience.

Matching Algorithms

Develop algorithms that match users based on their preferences, location, and other relevant factors. It ensures that users are presented with potential matches that are most likely to be compatible.

Messaging System

Enable users to communicate with their matches through a messaging system. Implement text messaging, multimedia sharing, and real-time notifications to enhance the user experience.

Geolocation

Integrate geolocation technology to show users potential matches in their vicinity. This feature allows users to connect with people nearby, increasing the chances of real-life meetups. By incorporating these key features into your Tinder clone app, you'll be able to create a user-friendly and engaging experience for your users.

Choosing the Right Technology Stack for Your Tinder Clone App

The next step in launching your Tinder clone app is to choose the right technology stack. 

The technological stack is the set of programming languages, frameworks, and tools that you will use to develop your app.

Scalability, performance, security, and simplicity of development are all important elements to consider when choosing a technological stack.

Additionally, consider integrating third-party APIs and services that can enhance the functionality of your app. 

These can include location-based services, real-time messaging, and social media integration.

Developing the User Interface and Experience for Your App

The design of your Tinder clone app plays a crucial role in attracting and retaining users. A visually appealing and intuitive user interface (UI) and a seamless user experience (UX) will make your app stand out.

Begin with developing wireframes and prototypes to visualize the layout and flow of your app. Consider the user journey and ensure the app's intuitive and user-friendly navigation. Use high-quality graphics, icons, and colors that align with your brand and appeal to your target audience.

These small touches can greatly enhance the overall user experience and make your app more engaging. Test your app's design with real users to gather feedback and make necessary improvements before proceeding to the development stage.

Testing and Debugging Your App

Before launching your Tinder clone app, thorough testing and debugging are essential to ensure a smooth user experience. 

Test your app on different devices, operating systems, and network conditions to identify and fix any bugs or performance issues.

Conduct functional testing to confirm that all features perform as intended. Test the app's usability and navigation by conducting user testing sessions or gathering feedback from beta testers. 

Address any issues or concerns raised during the testing phase to ensure a seamless user experience.

Launching Your Tinder Clone App on App Stores

Once you have successfully tested and debugged your Tinder clone app, it's time to prepare for its launch on app stores. Start by creating compelling app store listings that highlight your app's unique features and benefits.

Submit your app for review and address any feedback or issues the app store review team raises. Once approved, set a launch date and promote the upcoming release to build anticipation among your target audience.

Marketing and Promoting Your Tinder Clone App for Maximum Downloads

Launching your Tinder clone app is just the beginning. It would help if you implemented effective marketing and promotion strategies to maximize downloads and user engagement and ensure its success.

App Store Optimization (ASO)

Optimize your app store listings with relevant keywords, appealing screenshots, and a compelling description to improve its visibility in search results.

Social media marketing

Leverage popular social media networks to attract consideration for your app. Engage with your target audience, share app updates, and run targeted ad campaigns to drive downloads.

Influencer partnerships

Collaborate with influencers or bloggers in the dating or lifestyle niche to promote your app to their followers. It can generate organic traffic and increase brand awareness.

Content marketing 

Create high-quality content, such as blog articles or videos, that provide value to your target audience. Share this content on your app's website, social media channels, and other relevant platforms to attract users and establish credibility.

Referral programs 

Implement a referral system that rewards users for inviting friends to join the app. It can incentivize users to spread the word about your app and drive user acquisition.

Conclusion

Launching your own Tinder clone app is an exciting endeavor but requires careful planning and execution. You can create a dating app that stands out by understanding the market, researching your target audience, planning the features, and designing a user-friendly interface. Stay up to date on the newest dating app trends and technology to ensure your app's long-term success. By following this step-by-step guide and leveraging a Tinder clone script, you can launch a successful white label dating app that meets the needs of your target audience and differentiates itself from competitors.

[mrchoppedslefthand]

[SPOILERS] Homicipher Is Actually Romantic, Convince Me Otherwise [Analysis/Opinion] [SFW]

Word count: 3,332

Edit: 11/7/2024

[Feel free to skip to the last objective "Individual route discussion + what made it romantic" if you want to get straight to the point]

Homicipher is truthfully a romantic (or platonic) game. It is a game that has to be looked at from a different perspective when it comes to love/romance. A game where you have to take in consideration of the characters and the nature of their 'other world'. Today's post will discuss into what I believe made Homicipher an oddly, but romantic game, despite its shortcoming and abrupt ends.

⚠️[MAJOR LORE/CHARACTER ROUTE SPOILERS] ⚠️

Discussion Objectives:

Definition of Love & how it plays into Homicipher

The nature of the 'other world' and ghosts

Individual route discussion + what made it romantic (thoughts)

What Is Love & How Does It Play Into Homicipher?

Love has many layers of definition and associations. Maybe, that is why some may deem Homicipher to be "unromantic" and some disagree on that thought. It also varies based on the type of content/exposure you had consume in the category of love [whether romantic or platonic]. Socially, from a common standpoint, love is a strong attachment or affection for someone. Often from a social standpoint associated with dates, affection, and intimacy. However, love is always changing, since it is a social script on what its suppose to be, and changes as society progresses. Some notions stay the same but some begin to change (just like how language and certain concepts begin to change in the other world, a different society from our own). For the sake of a "true" definition of love. I will be using the definition offered by the Oxford Language Dictionary. So, what is love?

Love as a noun is...

"An intense feeling of deep affection"

"A great interest and pleasure in something"

"A person or thing that one loves"

Love as a verb is...

"Feel deep affection for (someone)"

"Like or enjoy very much"

Not long after its release there had been a fair number of comments/reviews criticizing Homicipher for its lack of romance. This claim is NOT entirely wrong. From the expectations of a "normal" Otome/dating sim it doesn't necessarily meet the requirements because of its lack of intimacy, affection and interest from a HUMAN/SOCIETAL perspective. We must remember that romance/love does not necessarily equate to kissing, hand holding, and intimacy especially considering that these are the HUMAN (societal) views on what romance/love is. A concept that had become lost in the 'other world'. So how can we call Homicipher romantic if we have to cross out the influence of our society? The answer is that we can't fully avoid it, HOWEVER, we must be open to a different perspective of what 'their' version of love is (platonic love/or romantic). No matter how lacking, dense, twisted and grotesque the moments we have spent with these ghosts are. In some shape and form it CAN equate itself to love (platonic/ or romantic). I think a lot of people forget that time itself can be equate to some complicated level of love. The fact you spend time with someone, and it develops to something further for worse or better, something that even love may not be able to name, is what this game demonstrates.

Homicipher has a consistent theme, the loss of truth, the acceptance of ignorance and the concept of eternity. Which shockingly is where the romance comes from. When we allow ourselves to rot in that world. When we ignore the exit and choose to stay, is where the romance comes through. Love is complicated. What can I say?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

The Nature of the 'Other World' & Ghosts

Alot of the ghosts we encounter can be friendly, but also just as deadly. We hear it from almost all of the casts warning or discussing about how dangerous a lot of the ghosts (including themselves) roam in this world, and in different endings, succumb to this danger ourselves. The longer we stay in this world, we soon start to become no different. As we, a human, begin to slowly transform into a different entity. We begin to react more violently (though it can be argued that since our MC is a serial killer, she might have just been violent and cruel in general). When angered, or things start not to go her way, she gets filled with bloodlust and takes it out on who she's with. Killing is a common thing to do in this world, especially when experiencing anger, sadness and even boredom. The concept of death is a little complicated as they can easily regenerate themselves back to "life". As the game progresses, we learn that some of these ghosts cannot grasp certain concepts (such as love), remember their own name and self, and don't have exact words (sometimes none) for items.

When sometimes even confessing that you like some of the ghosts they question you, and state that they cannot understand you or that feeling (platonic/ or romantic). We are in a setting that is beyond the mortal realm, there aren't any exactly "ideal" dates in a place different from the moral realm... so you're going to be stuck in a scary place, having a scary "date".

However just because they cannot understand the concept of love, doesn't meant that they can't feel it. It is something that the body may still feel, and the mind not being able to put an identity to that feeling or even situation, since meanings and concepts get lost within this realm. The fact that we are allowed to spend an eternity in this realm, with our handsome casts of ghosts. Is oddly and sadly romantic. For Mr. Crawling it is his devotion and loyalty to you, it is how he worries and cares for you, it is his affection and attempts to soothe you. For Mr. Silvair it is his care for you (as research of course lol), your usefulness (which is why he is attracted to you), but even then, one of his endings he keeps you as a head, when you had become useless to him. For Mr. Gap he finds you intriguing, he wants to play and follow you around, always asking for parts of you with consent, loves to brag about himself to you. For Mr. Chopped it is his want to rely on you, to feel safe with you, to protect him, to spend time with him. For Mr. Hood it his willingness to help you for an eternity, to roam with you forever, keeping you away from danger. For Mr. Machete it is the fact you both spend an eternity searching for a home together, to suffer boredom together, to suffer within each other's presence. For Mr. Scarletella it is his obsession for you and his willingness to spend an eternity with you.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Individual Routes + What Made Them Romantic

[Not in any particular order]

Mr. Crawling

If I had to rank who had the most "romantic" route overall, it would be Mr. Crawling. With the definition usage of love from the Oxford dictionary, verb and noun he checks all the list. Not only that, but we spend time with him the most out of all the other casts. He was the very first ghost we meet (briefly in the beginning) and got stuck with. We are like a baby bird imprinting on him because we saw him first and spent time with him the most, so of course we might feel the most attached to him compared to the others. As the game progresses Mr. Crawling doesn't fail to let us know that he cares for us and our safety warning us of the dangers that come and explaining how to navigate our way around danger. He expresses his worries when we disappeared. He seems to have some concept of love (platonic/ or romantic) as he admittedly tells us that he likes us and ask us if we like him. He expresses how he wants to follow and protect us. He also has so many cute scenes! Scenes where he pats our head, scenes where we lay together, chat a lot together. He is devoted and loyal to us, never harming us even once.

We even get a scene where he gets jealous when we called Mr. Chopped cute with the cat headband! So, he also makes an attempt to be cute too! We are always together with him, and that makes us BOTH happy. Although we don't have our traditional romantic dates like shopping, movie night. We get a bed scene and get to take him back home with us.

There are many types of romance. Platonic and romantic. You the reader/player is allowed to view it however you want. The game does not punish you for the lack of interactions with the casts. You just end up missing out on certain scenes/moments with them is all. However, for the sake of this post I will be making attempts to talk about the romantic aspect (but platonic romance can also be put into place).

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Silvair

lt's apparent that Mr. Silvair keeps us as research material and confines us in his lair. He is interested in our body, and also interested in returning our mind/intellect back to its original state. It is this interest in us that makes him "love" us. Does confinement and research count as love? Well...maybe not in terms of human definition but in the Mr. Silvair way, it's the closest thing you can get to romantic (or platonic). Afterall, the concept of love has become lost in this world.

I believe he still has some attachment to us, because in the ending A Head's Life, he still keeps you as a companion along with Mr. Chopped. He claims that you are no longer useful/capable but that it is okay, as long as danger is no longer here. When you choose to ask him why he did what he did and ask if he likes you, he tells you it was for research and that love is something he cannot understand. He also doesn't understand why you get so angry when he helped you return your intellect back. He still though has some sort of concept of empathy, because in his route when you choose to kill him and hide yourself away. He comes follow you and expresses that he's sorry and tells you a little about himself. He allows you free will, at this point, allowing you to leave him or stay with him.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Gap

Mr. Gap always wants a piece of us, literally. Why does he? Because it's just for fun. The most interaction we get with him is through the multiple crevices within this world and the short route he gets in chapter 4. He takes but sometimes may give. However, he doesn't fail to be thoughtful. It's hilarious how in chapter 4 when he offers us a crowbar in exchange for your heart, you can just smack him for it with no consequences. He also likes to brag about himself to you which honestly is a little cute. With his ending Return, we only have him left in the 'other world'. Our comfort lies with him, although he may be a little annoying, he is the only one we have left. We maybe have become a little codependent on him, but maybe he likes that?

God his annoyed/disgusted face is so hilarious, do it again Mr. Gap! He seems to stick around with us mainly just for funsies and being nosy, and honestly, he is so real for that. But it seems he likes to stay around with us at least. In the return end he is with us, and continues to stay lurking, perhaps watching over us until he is needed. Quite handy am I right? Haha.

He is depicted as quite the gentleman, but also just as fun and teasing. There are times where he does help you with no charge, such as barging into his hole (the face he makes in that scene is hilarious). Again, when presented with beating him for your crowbar, he gets a little upset but, honestly still helps you out. He probably thinks violence is funny which is why he constantly still teases you by asking to take away your body parts. It's just too fun!

Someone had brought up to my attention that Mr.Gap tends to ask for parts that can be easy to part with as we progress. Asking for our feet, legs, and fingers instead, when he seems to still clearly prefer the heart over the other parts. He adjusts his request when he realizes we won’t give our heart.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Chopped

Mr. Chopped is just a head; how can he possibly be or have anything romantic? Well, not necessarily to the level of Mr. Crawling but, we get to have a few small moments with him and spend some time with him. Since he is just a head, he can't help but need to rely on others. Of course, he has to be selectively about it because falling in the wrong hands devastates him.

Mr. Chopped when he gets forced into playing with the deer child, he seems happy to see a familiar face and calls us out to help him. Our poor baby was in trouble!

His ending head hunt is tragically sad but also bittersweet. MC cares so much about Mr. Chopped that she spends an eternity as an entity searching for a lost head, searching for Mr. Chopped who she failed to rescue.

During his own special route Mr. Chopped does his best to help us, but there is only so much a head can do. To make up for his lack of body though, he seems to be more expressive with his mouth and emotions. We get to take him to get a haircut and wash his hair. This seems pretty date like to me. Although our time was abrupt and short with Mr. Chopped. It makes me happy that we get this small, cute scene with him, which makes him much more lovable.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Hood

Mr. Hood protects you from harm, and also heeds your commands. He also carries you around. He means no harm and is there to guide. He cares for your safety and seems to dislike anything dangerous or threatening towards him and others that he protects.

At the end of his route, he states how often you get in danger and takes you with him, telling you that he must protect you since you asked him to (referring to an earlier scenario when you asked him to stay with you, when you reunited with Mr. Crawling and the others, but he leaves). So I would assume he would always be by your side now eternally staying together and protecting you from danger when needed. How cute! Some people are into that. But personally, for me Mr. Hood felt more like a father/brother to me. Maybe it was because he was always willing to guide us? But some people are into the brotherly/fatherly type of men, and hey I don't judge.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Machete

At first, I did not see the appeal to Mr. Machete, he seemed like a ghost that killed for boredom and most of the time we just followed him around aimlessly...WELL, after playing his route and letting it soak in my brain. That is entirely the whole point of his character. He is a ghost that had become bored because he had too much time on his hands and continues to search for his home. He is our tsundere dummy macho ghost, and honestly, I love that about him. He could've killed us again like how he tried earlier, but after that first attempt, he reluctantly allows us to follow him. It's funny how much he runs away if the odds are against him, and when he mocks us it's even more hilarious. Mr. Machete likes us if we are strong opponent for him, he even expresses that he thinks we are fun and likes us when we defeat Mr. Hugeface on our own.

Not going to lie, I fell for Mr. Machete right here. We were low on blood, and he just slices his hand, FEEDING us HIS BLOOD. Like OMG that was so hot, he opens our mouth forceful, and we drink his blood. He somewhat cares about us, to be doing all of that for us. After that we get a timed choice to stall or follow him. When you choose to stall he pauses with you and asks if you're okay and to catch up with him. For someone who had been reluctant and annoyed at us for following him, took a moment of his time to wait for you. He WANTED you to tag along with him. We then venture on with him aimlessly searching for his and our home. Torturing each other with our presences. But maybe, just maybe, they can slowly become that home together that they were searching for.

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:··:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

Mr. Scarletella

I LOVE HIM SO MUCH. At first, he appears to be just any ghost that wants to attack us. It took me a while to warm up to him because of so little we knew about him. I thought he wanted to take our name for fun/or collection, but then it's revealed that he knows us. That he harbors some sort of love and obsession for us and believes that we love him because of all the blood and bodies we "offered" him. In a twisted way, this situation is a cute and romantic misunderstanding. Mr. Scarletella fell in love with us for providing him many blood and bodies. He wants us to spend an eternity with him. He WANTS to spend an eternity with us. He invites us to this other world because perhaps he wants us to become a ghostly being just like him, or maybe he wants to have easier access to us (since his myth that he only appears on rainy days) to meet us. Although we didn't get to have as many interactions with him, that is what makes this love toxic. It is a parasocial love, he fell in love with us from afar. When you piece everything together with your dictionary the words he proposes to you sound like wedding vows when you give your name to him. Which make it all so more lovely, even if he takes our soul away.

(My translation/interpretation of the scene, where he asks for your name)

Chapter 2, Scene 24

Scarletella: "You found your name...?"

Scarletella: "Teach me your name." (ARF ARF WRARF)

Scarletella: "I want you." (YES PLEASE)

Scarletella: "Will you give your name?" (OF COURSE)

Scarletella: "Your name?" (👁️👄👁️)

*You give him your name here*

Scarletella: "I have your name."

Scarletella: "I have obtained you." (YES YOU DID, COME TAKE ME)

Scarletella: "Let's leave together." (ARF ARF WRARFFFFFFFF)

Scarletella: "I love you"

Scarletella: "And you love me."

Scarletella: "You gave it to me...Thank you" (I'LL GIVE YOU IT ALL)

Scarletella: "Forever/eternally together..." (YES SIR)

Scarletella: "Together." (ARF ARF WRARRF ARFA)

He is quite the romancer hehe. It seems like Mr. Scarletella has some form of concept when it comes to love, which is to be together forever, even if you end up as a blood pool. Together is together.

I find it interesting how his two endings: Scarletella and Scarlet Rain parallels each other so well. In the Scarletella ending, we (mc unknowingly) give our consent to being together forever with Mr. Scarletella, but we are still alive. When MC wakes up, she sees a clear umbrella on the floor and picks it up. I believe that we have now embodied or spirited the umbrella, spending eternity with Mr. Scarletella. He owns us now.

However, in the Scarlet Rain end he becomes ours, the umbrella stays red, and we still, eternally are together forever.

[deminetly]

꒰ ꪆHELPFUL SHIFTING POSTS୧ ꒱

──────────────────

˖˙ ᰋ ─DR IDEAS

dr ideas 1

dr ideas 2

dr ideas 3

dr ideas 4

dr ideas 5

dr ideas 6

dr ideas 7

dr ideas 8

dr ideas 9

dr ideas 10

dr ideas 11

dr ideas 12

dr ideas + storylines

dr ideas + storylines 2

dr ideas with an s/o

dr ideas based on your mbti

waiting room ideas

──────────────────

˖˙ ᰋ ─DR INTROS

──────────────────

˖˙ ᰋ ─SCENARIOS

with an s/o 1

with an s/o 2

scenarios to script 1

scenarios to script 2

ways to meet your s/o 1

ways to meet your s/o 2

──────────────────

˖˙ ᰋ ─THINGS TO SCRIPT

things to script 1

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things to script 4

about yourself

about yourself (angelic edition)

about your appearance

about your appearance 2

about your appearance 3

about your appearance 4 (masterlist)

about your appearance (pictures)

angelic beauty

uncommon skills/talents

about social media

superpowers

into your hogwarts dr 1

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into your waiting room 1

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into your fame dr

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into your band/singer dr

relationship edition

relationship edition 2

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school events

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──────────────────

˖˙ ᰋ ─RANDOM

everything you need to make a new dr

sections to add into a script

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hobby ideas

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challange - make a new dr (interactive)

things to post about your drs 1

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how to feel more connected to your dr

activities for shifters in your cr

journaling prompts

how to script a friendship

how to script an s/o

dr self builder

questions to help you develop any dr

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names

everything for your fame dr

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summer camp activities

trends to start 1

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hogwarts event ideas

a students guide to hogwarts classes

questions to answer after shifting

magic system idea

guide to a fantasy kingdom dr

guide to classes at ever after high

moodboards

pets to script 1

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apps you can use for shifting (scripting, fake social media, fake messages)

questions to help you develop your fame dr

interview questions to help you develop your fame dr

film concept ideas for your actor dr

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templates to fill out

ask game 1

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[codenance]

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[oldsoul007]

off script

nicholas chavez x co-star!reader

summary: nicholas and reader pull a publicity stunt to promote their new movie but maybe theres something more…

During a promotional interview for our movie, the interviewer couldn't help but notice the way Nicholas looked at me. With a curious smile, the interviewer leaned forward and said, "Nicholas, I have to ask—there's something in the way you look at y/n. It's like there's more than just acting going on here."

Nicholas glanced at me , his cheeks turning a slight shade of pink. He chuckled nervously before responding, "Well, you know, we've spent a lot of time together for this movie. It's hard not to develop a certain... connection."

The interviewer raised an eyebrow, sensing there was more to the story. "A connection, you say? It seems like it's more than just a professional one."

I felt her heart skip a beat as i looked at Nicholas. I could see the sincerity in his eyes. "We've become really good friends through this process," i added, trying to keep my voice steady.

Nicholas nodded, but the look he gave me spoke volumes. It was a look filled with admiration and something deeper, something that couldn't be hidden even under the bright lights of the interview set. The interviewer smiled knowingly, leaving the audience to wonder if there was more to their story than just a movie.

So of course mine and nicholas publicists had a brilliant idea to generate buzz for our upcoming movie. They decided to stage a publicity stunt, wanting us to pretend to be a couple. The plan was simple: act like they were dating, make a few public appearances together, and let the media do the rest.

Of course Cooper, was in on it and went ballistic, because he always couldn't help but tease us about how perfect we would look together.

At first, it was all fun and games. We attended premieres, had dinner dates in front of paparazzi, and even posted cute pictures on social media. The chemistry between us was undeniable, and soon, our "relationship" became the talk of the town. Fans were ecstatic, and the movie's anticipation skyrocketed.

However, as we spent more time together, something unexpected happened. The line between acting and reality began to blur. I couldn't deny the fluttering in my heart whenever Nicholas was around. We shared laughs, deep conversations, and moments that felt all too real.

Cooper, who had always shipped us, noticed the change. "You know, you two aren't just good actors," he said one evening. "I think there's something real here."

Me and Nicholas exchanged glances, both realizing that Cooper might be right. What started as a publicity stunt had turned into something much more profound. We had discovered genuine feelings for each other, and the world could see it too.

As we made our way to the quiet corner of the studio, Nicholas turns to me, his heart pounding. "Y/n, can we talk for a minute?" he asked, his voice tinged with nervousness.

I nodded, my curiosity piqued. "Of course, Nic. What's on your mind?"

Taking a deep breath, Nicholas gathered his thoughts. "During the interview, when the interviewer mentioned the way I look at you, it made me realize something important," he began, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "I've been trying to keep my feelings in check, but I can't ignore them anymore."

My eyes widened slightly, a mixture of surprise and anticipation flickering across her face. "Nic, what are you trying to say?"

Nicholas stepped closer, his voice soft but filled with conviction. "Y/n, I want something more, Working on this movie with you, spending all this time together, it's made me see that my feelings for you are real. It's not just the characters we played; it's us."

For a moment, there was silence as I processed his words. Then, a smile slowly spread across my face, my eyes shining with emotion. "Nicholas, I’ve felt the same way, but I was afraid to say anything."

Relief and joy washed over Nicholas as he closed the distance between them, grabbing my face and pulling me in for a heated kiss. "I'm so glad you feel the same," he whispered, his voice full of emotion in between kisses.

The movie's release was a massive success, but more importantly, Nicholas and i found something truly special in each other.

[ravenstargames]

✦ LOST IN LIMBO DEVLOG #18 | 05.02.2025

Phew. Brace yourselves—this one is packed, so let's have a bullet list for those who don't want to read me yapping for another month!

Extended Demo: Prologue backgrounds done! ✨

All the new sprites for the LIs and their expressions are done and coded! ✨

The Prologue script is done and ready to be proofreaded, with more than 36k extra words! ✨

Extended Demo: Prologue tracks are done! ✨

New QOL features added!

Achievements coded!

Concept art phase started on Evie!

First of all, let's talk Extended Demo! We can confirm our first update with the new sprites and some new features will come not in June, but in May! :^) We'll set a date pretty soon; even if it's not the juicy major update you're waiting for, we hope you are looking forward to it!

As for the CHUNK of it all, the new prologue, that'll have to wait a bit more. We want to wait until we can give y'all a precise date before saying anything, but know work is going well. Sadly, we have decided not to join Steam's Next Fest this time around as the big update won't be coming until a bit more later. Let's see it!

A very professional graphic, you see! Our...roadmapish graphic with no dates because we'd rather not make promises we can't keep!

So, first of all, our first big big update, version 2.0, will come this year. Version 2.0 will include the new prologue, which features you can see listed on the right. There's more, but we have listed only the juiciest stuff. Our Kickstarter Beta Access Backers will receive the first build of the update (without any major bugs), and once they deem it ready, it'll be sent to our Kickstarter Early Access backers. Then, boom! To the world!

This update will pave the path for the first chapter of every route, something we want to offer for free, as you may remember. First will be Amon (v2.1), then Gael(v2.2), Raeya, Envy, Ara, Xal, and Pride. Then, we'll work on two routes simultaneously (script wise) but prioritize one. That means we'll work on Gael's route while working on Amon's, but Amon's will have priority. After every chapter of every route is out, no more free / public updates will be done until final release. We'll enter public early access for those who want to pay for it. Of course, our Kickstarter Beta and Early Access will have all the content before it goes public.

After our first big update, we'll open a Patreon as some of you have suggested to keep investing in the game and maybe, if things go well, to start supporting ourselves :^) You'll be able to enjoy special content, updates, and get Early Access to the game's progress (at a price we'll discuss with our backers first to make it fair for them. Please keep in mind our Kickstarter Backers will have priority on everything!).

Now, changes in the workload / responsibilities have been made after analyzing Raquel's new situation and it becoming a (for now) permanent part in her life.

To compensate for the amount of work Raquel won't realistically be able to pull of, we've decided to officially have Airyn work on our concept and character art as well. If we want the development of the game to keep going steadily, we have to put our (and your) money to good use. Don't worry, we've mathed hard and we've got the funds for it! Our composer has already been paid for our original soundtrack (our first and only stretch goal!), so that and other stuff are secured :^).

As of today, the new sprites and the new expressions of all our LI's are done and coded! Also, Raquel has implemented the fixes you all suggested for our dear dad. Tree Pride is no more, the golden accents are yellower, and the original tone of the gauntlets is back! Also his head tilt and his smile have made a comeback, as y'all wanted!

Thanks to Raquel for her hard work, all the sprites are ready for our first update!

Also, work on Evie's concept art has started! Our Kickstarter folks will get a sneak peek of some sketches, so you folks will have to wait a bit to see her! In addition, Astro has begun working on more voidbound, so you can encounter more versions of them instead of just voidbound-chan! :^)

All the backgrounds for the Prologue of the Extended Demo are done!! ✨And animated, by the way!

Now, as Airyn will be helping us with the characters, we will have to halt work on the backgrounds for a little while. After the Prologue come Amon and Gael's first chapter, and those will include a lot of new locations, and we'll have to dedicate some time to properly flesh out the aesthetics for both routes. During this small break, I'll properly design the moodboards to give to Astro and Airyn as soon as the new characters are done :^)!

The writing for the Extended Demo: Prologue is done. DONE. I'M DONE.

Originally the new prologue was going to be 20k extra words, buuuut we are sitting at 36k extra. Our editor Allie side-eyed me a bit (with love), and we both know some chopping may be done because I tend to write above my possibilities. So, now we are entering the "this could've been an email" phase. I hope the wait for the first update of the Extended Demo is worth it—I think it'll be, but you'll be the ones to judge!

I've, obviously, been programming the new sprites, as well as the bones of what will be our Achievements section, again thanks to beloved Feniks who has a tool for this in Ren'Py. Achievements won't be coming until our big update, but I want to get the jist of it with enough time!

I also have been battling the code to make it so those of you who turn off the Timed choices know easily when there's a timed choice and when a choice is...well, not timed. Timed choices will have a cute little hourglass on each side! Also, a lot of miscellania like adding Tomás in our credits, revisiting the game to make sure the sprites work accordingly, changing the gallery graphics so they match the new sprites, and so on!

New art has been added to the artbook, and our manufacturer has finally given us a date in which our pins will be done! That's more relevant to our Kickstarter backers, so more about that in there. Kayden is still working on a bunch of mini CG's, as per usual!

Soundtrack wise, Tomás has delivered even more than we needed for our first big update—instead of only two tracks, we now have four original tracks that will be added to our big update! They are finished, cleaned, and ready to go. And let me tell you, they're absolutely breathtaking :`)

April has also been the month to fight taxes, the government, and our own counselor. We even had a big scare with a bunch of oopsies that surprisingly weren't our fault, but that's solved now!

As for our personal lives, I've been fighting the demons of my PhD courses and trying not to cry when faced with math (I failed). Astro has made some big decisions about the course of his life that we see as something positive, Raquel is feeling the pressure of her irl work and wanting to give more to LiL, and Kayden is existing peacefully. Damn I hate that guy /j.

Oh, also, Airyn is very happy to be able to help us a bit more. She's also been working a lot on different stuff (not only for us!), so send good vibes her way!

Somehow this devlog doesn't feel like a lot????? And we did a lot of stuff! Progress is going great!

I guess we are feeling a bit down because the first big update won't make it to this June. We were giving it our all, but even with Airyn's official help, we don't dare to say it'll be ready for June. You always feel like a...not pressure, but duty? To give a date (even if it's just an approximate one) but we'd rather not this time around. Let's just see how everything flows while giving it our all.

That being said, I'm headed to get some rest! I hope you all are doing alright, and as always, thank you so much for the support, the kindness, and everything else 💜

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Ok I just saw your Vamp!Rhys brain rot headcanons post and I'm letting you know right now if you do not develop them into full blown chapters for Vamp!Rhys I'll literally sue for emotional damages ok thank you <3

lol I suppose I can make that happen ;)

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

Ancient Recipes

The bed is, surprisingly, empty when you awaken, the last rays of evening light filtering in through a crack in the curtains. Your hands brush absently through the cold sheets as if they could tell you where he’d disappeared off to. He’s not usually up this early.

With a yawn, you slide out of bed and yank on one of his discarded shirts, leaving the silky button down open down the middle in a half-hearted attempt at decency before padding off in search of him. 

The library and game room is empty, the curtains pulled tight, the air a little stuffy. You can hear Cassian snoring from behind his closed door and a tendril of shadow still guard’s Azriel’s door handle, telling you that he’s not off with either of them this early.

Eventually, you find yourself wandering down into the kitchen, expecting it to be empty too, but figuring it’s worth a shot. You’re surprised to find Rhys bent over the stove, shirtless, sleep pants slung low over his hips as he carefully chops a mix of vegetables. His ears twitch as you walk towards him, a sure sign that he hears your approach. 

“You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he says without turning. You can hear the pout in his voice without seeing the purse of those full lips you love so much.

“Missed you,” you say as you slide your arms around his waist and bury your head between his shoulder blades.

He sets the knife down long enough to run a hand over where yours hold his waist. “I was coming right back.”

You place a kiss against his spine before leaning around him to get a better view of what he’s doing. “I didn’t know you could cook?”

“I am a thousand years old, Darling,” he purrs. “That’s a long time to not learn how to prepare a meal.”

There’s an old, hand written book propped up against the stone wall, the swirling script fading under the cruel hands of time in a language long forgotten. The pages are brittle and yellow now, the date written in the corner nearly illegible. 

“What are you making?”

Skilled hands throw in diced vegetables and dried herbs into a pot simmering with some sort of red sauce. “Something my mother used to make me,” he says softly. “These are her recipes.”

Your chest tightens. He’d told you about the hunters that had killed his mother and sister not long after that night when those hunters had come for you. He’d, understandably, been on edge since, the encounter bringing up a lot of old memories he hadn’t touched. It’s little surprise that he would try and find some solace here.

“Smells good,” you say. 

He twists and pulls you in front of him, so you can watch as he works. “Can’t find all the right ingredients,” he frowns. “Some of these spices have been lost to time. I think these will work instead. Hopefully.”

Rhys dips a wooden spoon into the bubbling liquid and brings it to your lips, “Try this for me?”

You give it a second to cool before taking a taste, the mixture both earthy and spicy, but deliciously warm. “It’s good!”

“Yes, but is it right?” He insists.

You tilt your head up to look at him, brows raised, “How would I know, Rhysand? By the sound of it, most of the things you’re missing were lost to the world before my parents were even born.”

You think if he was capable of it he might have blushed against the mistake. Instead, he kisses the top of your head. “I suppose I could ask Az.” He licks a bit of the mixture, frowning as he goes, before putting the spoon directly back into the pot. Apparently a key ingredient in ancient recipes is a little bit of saliva. 

A moment later, the shadowy vampire emerges, summoned for this oh so important errand. Azriel’s dark hair is sleep tousled, shadows swirling lazily around his bare shoulders. Any other morning with the two males looking like this you would have climbed them like a tree, but this morning is apparently for other things, as Rhys nearly flings the spoon in Azriel’s direction. 

“What am I missing?” He demands.

Az takes a taste and spits it into the sink. “What did you do?!” He all but shoves the two of you out of the way to reach for the spice rack in the cupboards above your head. “Your mother would have beat you with that spoon.”

“I know!” Rhys huffs. “What did I forget?”

Azriel starts opening old jars of dried herbs and adding them into the pot. “Egg and thyme for one thing, dumbass.”

Rhys grabs the book off the counter and looks more closely at the recipe, keeping one arm around your shoulders to have you close even so. “Oh, yeah I did forget the egg.”

Azriel cracks four of them into the mixture, before throwing in more herbs. “You’re cooking it too high too.”

Rhys brushes his lips over your hair. “Wanted to bring it to you in bed before you woke up.”

You twist and lean up on your toes to give him a proper good morning kiss. “I would have loved it anyway.”

“Human taste buds are disgusting,” Azriel huffs.

You hear Cassian’s footsteps before you see the half-awake vampire stumble into the kitchen. “Are we cooking what I think we are?”

“Not if Rhys has anything to do with it,” Azriel huffs.

“It was for Y/N!” Rhys returns. “I didn’t make enough for everyone.”

“But she’s so good at sharing,” Cassian says with a wink, his sleep thick voice enough to make heat pool between your legs. 

Rhys lifts you up and places you on the counter, beside where Azriel still chops more ingredients, so he can kiss you deeper this time. “Mine.” 

“Not with your cooking she’s not,” Azriel quips. 

Cassian tuts as he comes over to Azriel’s other side and dips a finger into the now simmering pot. Azriel smacks his hand with the back of the wooden spoon and Rhys hisses, fangs glinting in the candlelight.

“How are you supposed to take care of the little human if you can’t even cook her a decent meal?” He brings his fingers to his mouth for a taste, then frowns. “Do neither of you own any peppers at all? What is this, baby food?”

“I added the aleppo, just as the recipe said!” Rhys retorts. 

“You definitely didn’t! Your mother never made anything this bland!” Cassian insists.

“I’m following the recipe!”

Azriel snatches the book, scarred hands thumbing quickly through the pages. “I remember it being spicier.”

Rhys frowns. “Maybe we’re thinking of that other recipe she used to make?”

“No that one was for dinner,” Cassian returns. “I definitely remember a spicy breakfast dish. Especially on cold winter mornings.”

“He’s right,” Azriel chimes in, eyes still glued to the pages. 

“I mean, our tastes did change when we turned, maybe we’re the problem?” Cassian asks, running a hand over his face in thought. 

“Your tastes change when you turn?” You ask.

“A little,” Rhys says with a frown, violet eyes on the dish. “Maybe you’re right, Cass. Did you think it was spicy, Darling?” 

“A little,” you reply. “It could use more, I think, but again, I’ve never tried it before so I’m not exactly an expert.”

Cass peers into the pot. “It looks right.”

Azriel sets the book back on the counter with nothing short of reverence. “Guess it is us.”

Rhys’s face falls, it’s like watching him lose a piece of the past. You take his face in your hands and kiss the tip of his nose. “I think any mother would be proud to know that you loved something so much that you put all this effort into sharing it, whether is tastes the same or not.”

His grin is soft, like the kiss he plants on your lips, taking his time to pull out of it.

“Thank you for sharing a piece of you with me,” you say.

Azriel scoops it up into four small portions, the wooden dishes old and reminiscent of a time long passed. Not the formal dining ware they bring out at parties, but a little piece of home that managed to survive the passage of time. 

It’s delicious, Az had been right about needing the egg and thyme, it brings a more rounded flavor to the dish. But it would have been equally fine if Rhys had brought the first attempt to you in bed, simply because he loved you enough to try and make something for you even when he could not fully enjoy it himself. It tastes all the better because it’s something the four of you can share, can make new memories out of. You certainly will not forget it, not even in the coming change of your mortality. 

“Well now you’ve got me curious for what other ancient recipes you’ve been hiding,” you say as the meal comes to a close. 

“You make us sound like we’re old as dirt,” Cassian huffs. 

You wink up at Rhys as he kisses your temple. “A thousand years is a long time. What else can you make for me?”

[zyafics]

PLAY FAKE | 12

MASTERLIST (Series)

Pairing — Rafe Cameron x Female Reader .ᐟ

Summary — When Rafe needs to secure a girlfriend for his father to see him as a viable candidate for Cameron Development, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.

Content — 18+, smut, angst, depictions of jealousy + aggression, emotional turmoil, mild descriptions of violence, and usage of drugs.

You had no choice. Newly orphaned with two acquired guardianship, on the brink of homelessness, you caved into desperation. You started to steal; pick-pocketing unsuspecting tourons and swiping valuables at island parties.

The latter is how you came across Aaron. He saw you stole from one of his clients and struck up a conversation. You thought you would be arrested, or done worse as retribution, but he gave you his number to contact. Said you could call him if you were strapped for some cash. When you learned more about him through JJ—and how Luke owed him money once, leading to a bad dispute that ended in the loss of his job and a black eye—you realized you were dealing with a bad guy.

The consensus was to stay away from Aaron because of his shady conduction of business and excessive use of violence. But you were in a deadlock. No one would offer you a loan because of your bad credit and you were on the cusp of losing your family's legacy. So, you did it.

Now, it's back to bite you in the ass. The reason why loan sharks are dangerous is their exorbitantly high interest rates and lack of regard for the law. If you're unable to pay them back within strict deadlines, they will double the initial amount you owe and go to extreme lengths to threaten friends and family for payback. It's a tactic that works best because you can't turn to the police.

When you finish your anecdote, the atmosphere falls into an eerily silence. You can hear the sound of a pin drop or the soft laughter of your sisters three doors down. You're perched on the end of Rafe's bed while he's leaning against his desk, back pressed against the counter, digesting your words.

Your throat feels dry. It wasn't even a long explanation but something about the way Rafe's watching you, his eyes never straying, and the lack of response afterward. You feel like you're burning under his gaze.

This must be how he felt when you were silent.

"Say something," you urge, voice smaller than intended. His eyes shift and observes the look on your face with an indiscernible expression.

"How much did you borrow?"

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth before answering. "30K."

"Jesus Christ," he mutters under his breath, exhaling sharply. Guilt gnaws at your stomach and your eyes pinch with a wave of sodden emotions. This is one of the reasons why you hesitate to tell him; you don't want him to take your burden as his.

You sigh tightly. "I told you it's bad."

"Does this mean you owe him sixty grand now?"

"No." You shake your head. "I paid back ten."

The numbers still aren't optimal. "So forty then?"

"No," You blurt out, before retracting. "I think. I–I don't know. He hasn't contacted me..." You trail off, not wanting to imagine your debt doubled. If you had paid the required amount, as scripted in your contract, within the due date, you would've been fine. Now, you're in an ambiguous grey zone with no clear direction on where to go next.

"But when he does?"

You look up from your crestfallen gaze to find Rafe's jaw set, his eyes searching your face. Frustration rolls off his strong demeanor, and you take it as a sign of his irritation—at your negligence—that you can't help but feel obligated to alleviate the feeling. "It's fine." You say evenly. "I'll figure it out."

"It's not that." He declares roughly, pinching the bridge of his nose, and exhaling another deep breath. Recognizing his own turbulent emotions are flaring, he doesn't want to take it out on you. "I offered you money. We could've avoided this. At the start of our deal, I offered you—"

You cut him off. "I know."

His expression is sharp. "Then why didn't you take it?"

"I—" You draw in shaky breath, fingers grabbing at the sheets beneath you and tightening them into fists. "I had a plan."

"You had a plan?" Rafe repeats, his voice dripping with disbelief. While he's trying to be patient with you, he can't gauge how your mind works. How it's so set on an independent mode that now—even now—you seem to want to do it all alone. "Does it look like your plan is working?"

This time, it came harsher than he intended, and he wanted to take it back immediately but it was too late. His words were laced with a certain venom that spewed onto you.

But instead of being upset, your own anger erupts.

"Were you going to drop 20K for a couple of fake dates?" You snap, standing from your own seat. You knew what you had done was moronic and you can't take it back but you did have a plan. When Rafe doesn't give you a proper answer, you take his silence as complicity. "Exactly. It would've been stupid on your end and I would've never agreed to such a ridiculous deal. I've already made that mistake once."

He knows you just called him stupid, but Rafe can't stop the rising smile on his lips. In your scorn, you're almost back to your old self.

"Why are you smiling?" You cross your arms, attempting to maintain your level of authority, but his grin broadens. "Stop it."

"I miss you."

Your heart stutters and all your momentum drops. Rafe uses the opportunity to cross the small distance and capture your face in his palm and you lean into his touch, shoulders sagging. You can't believe you're reduced to putty in his hands.

Trying to regain some sense of control, you avert your gaze from his face, and both your palms flatten against his chest. "You're mean, Rafe."

"I'm sorry, baby," he murmurs, running the pad of his thumb across your cheekbone. "What was your plan?"

Part of you didn't want to tell him, to withhold the information, but when he tilts your chin up to meet his eyes, the earnest look behind them shatters that desire. With your heart leaping in your throat, you explain slowly. "When you get Cameron Development, the plan was that I was gonna get a steady income as your regular caterer. Therefore, when payments were due, I would have a reliable source of income."

His breath hitches at the implication behind your words. Rafe's expression hardens. "That's dependent on me getting the company."

You keep his gaze. "I know."

"You based your entire plan on me?"

You can't exactly decipher the tone behind his sentence, and you feel the need to lower your gaze to his chest, grabbing a handful of his shirt. You mumble, "You make it sound like it's stupid."

"It's not—" He grabs your chin again, forcing your gaze up to his. Your eyes are soft and big, while his darkened one scans your face, trying to read your intent. He asks lowly, "You believe in me that much?"

Your voice is gentle when you answer. "Of course."

His heart sings. Rafe can't believe what he's hearing, or rather what he's not. It's the same subtle underlying language he's used to translating; the unspoken. Your entire plan is contingent on his success. That means your trust in him started since the beginning of our arrangement.

He never had someone who had that much faith in him that they would bet it all. It's an indescribable feeling, that's first met with doubt, before transforming into something else. To know someone is always in his corner, always rooting for his success, always believing in him.

Fuck.

He's in love with you.

His eyes stray to your lips and the urge to kiss you overwhelms him. His actions have always been better at demonstrating his emotions than his words ever can. But he resists with a couple of measured breaths. Then, he nods once. "Okay. We'll figure it out."

You're in a dazed state. "We?"

He doesn't want you to think you have to do this all alone. You have him now. "Yeah, but later. I can't focus right now."

Before you can seek clarification, his other hand cradles your cheek and Rafe slams his lips onto yours.

It catches you by surprise and a small moan slips out that Rafe swallows. He wants you. Mind, body, and soul. All of it—the taste of you, the feeling of your skin on his, your words against the column of his throat. He wants to feel you writhing beneath him with pleasure, to save all your best memories for him, and to know that you're completely and unequivocally his.

Rafe parts, just a breath of distance, and whispers against your swollen lips. "God, I miss you."

Your fingers thread through his hair. "I've been here."

His eyes are hungry. "Not what I meant."

He silences any reaction by resuming the kiss, forcing you backward against the bed, and your back lands on the mattress with a soft thump. Rafe hovers over you, his weight pressed comfortably against your body while he kisses you like a starved man.

Even if you don't say it, you missed him too. The feeling of him against you, your heart meeting his at precise beats. When Rafe moves to plant kisses along the curve of your neck, a small whine escapes you. You want to feel his lips on yours, to feel his warmth on your tongue, but he wants to satisfy every inch of you.

His hand starts to caress the hem of your shirt—his shirt—pushing up the fabric to reveal more of your exposed stomach to your bare breasts. With little words spoken, like a coordinated dance, you move enough for Rafe to pull the material completely off of you.

"Shit," he swears, taking a moment to take you in, "I'm never going to get used to this." Then, he descends to your nipples and captures one between his teeth.

You let out another moan, feeling his tongue swirl around your sensitive bud, clashing with the metal barbell. Your legs spread wider, allowing Rafe to slot between your thighs. The boxers he let you borrow are thin, and you feel his hardened erection rocking against your heated core.

Your fingers find the button of his jeans. "Rafe," you whisper, aching with desire. "I need this off."

"Need, huh?" He teases, his hot breath fans against the valley of your breasts and you shiver. "Tell me how much you need me, baby."

He wants to hear it all. Even if it's fake, even if it's just dirty talk spoken during sex. For a brief, fleeting moment, he wants to pretend you need him as much as he needs you.

You draw your hands up to cup either side of his face, forcing him off your tits and tilting his gaze to yours. "Rafe Cameron, I need you inside me. Badly."

Hearing the desperation behind your voice—and his name rolling off your tongue, Rafe removes his clothes and helps you out of yours. Before you have the chance to say anything else, Rafe's fingers are between your folds, spreading them apart, and a sound of satisfaction is heard from the back of his throat. "God, you're wet."

You are. Your arousal coats his digits, and with a slow stroke of his hand, your hips buck into his palm that rest against your clit.

"Rafe," you whine, knowing he's toying with you. His fingers stroke your pussy, but not enough pressure to give rise to your climax. "Inside, please. I'll be so good."

He grins and retracts his hand. When he lines his swollen cock against your entrance, he pauses for a moment. Rafe's eyes connect with yours. "Did you take your pill?"

When Rafe went out this early morning, with your sisters, he went to the pharmacy to pick up some birth control for you. It currently sits on his desk, opened and with one missing tablet. "I did."

"Good, I need to feel all of you."

Without another word, he thrusts into you, causing your back to arch off the mattress.

Rafe doesn't go hard and fast like normal but instead bends forward to capture your lips against his teeth. Your heart is hammering in your chest regardless, the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way he fills you—like a puzzle finding its missing piece—makes your head spin.

"Feel so fucking good," he whispers against your heated skin, his hand reaching out to take yours, intertwining with your fingers. "Can't believe I almost lost this."

You can't believe it either, but you couldn't say it. Rafe angles himself where his cock hits right against your cervix, causing your head to tip back and dig into the sheets, moaning wildly at the pleasure. Rafe easily kisses you to swallow the noise of your open mouth, reminding you that your sisters are just a couple of doors over.

You should care. You really should. But you don't. You need him. Closer. Harder. Faster. Your legs wrap around his torso, trapping him. "Need you," you whimper, as each thrust grows more choppy. "Need you so fucking bad, Rafe."

He can't control himself. Removing his constraint of trying to keep it sentimental, to keep it sweet. He loves how desperate you need him. How rough you want it. His pace quickens with the rut of his hips, and you feel the familiar white-hot pleasure searing through your body, climaxing.

"More," you beg, arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clawing against his back muscles. You're removing all the space between him and you, until there's nothing but skin-on-skin. "Please, more."

"Baby, I'll give you everything," he grunts breathily, scraping his teeth against the curve of your neck, hitting a sensitive spot that leaves you whining. "Everything and more if you'd let me."

Something about his words twists inside you and you come hard. Rafe feels you clenching around him, so tight, that it causes him to slow his thrust but the pleasure is unbearable. Easily, he follows after, coming inside you with the familiar hot cum filling you up.

Rafe lands on top of you, careful not to crush you under his weight. You welcome it, nonetheless, liking the way he presses against you. Both your breaths are heavy, clambering to catch up on missing air, and Rafe's still inside you. You like that too.

Your hands are still intertwined, and you're the first to retract from the hold to place your warm palm against the side of his profile, causing his head to lift to meet your gaze. He's settled between the valley of your breasts, his stubble tickling your skin, and you take the moment to lean forward and plant a chaste kiss on his lips.

It feels sentimental. Vulnerable. Almost too real.

"Okay, now get off," you say jokingly, undercutting the tension in the room. Rafe scoffs but listens, rolling off, slipping out of you. The loss of him makes you frown, but you quickly wipe away the expression as you turn on your side, facing him.

Rafe studies you. This time, the sex felt different. More. He'll never say it, in fear of it scaring you away, but he truly never felt as vulnerable as he did moments ago when he was inside you. The memories flooding through him could easily get him hard again, but he tries to distract himself, taking a strand of your hair between his fingers.

You smile softly, noting how mesmerized he is with your hair. Of the color and the texture. It draws you into your thoughts, and you're suddenly reminded of a question that's been stuck in your head for the past twenty-four hours.

You say his name, causing him to stop and look at you. "Why were you with Leila the other night?"

"She called me." He answers truthfully, and before you can question him further, he adds. "I was coming over anyways."

This surprises you. "You were?"

"Couldn't leave you like that."

"You didn't stop me."

"I know, I fucked that up," Rafe admits, eyes scanning over your face, trying to express his sincerity.

You study him, recognizing his truth, but you still have some doubts. Another question about your relationship hangs in the air, and as your lips part, Rafe recognizes the question before you even have the chance to ask.

"We're not broken up."

A sense of relief fills you, but there's also the remnant of heartache.

Your voice is soft. "I said a break."

"We're not doing that either."

You don't know if you can separate from him. You don't know if you want to. But you wanted this extra layer of protection, just in case. "If you were worried, I was still committed to doing all the things you needed with Ward—"

"I don't care." He sharply cuts you off. "If someone asks you who you're with, don't answer that it's complicated. It's not. You're with me, got it?"

He's addressing the moment when Kelce asked if you were in a relationship with Rafe and you answered vaguely. It must've been stuck in his mind. Rafe never set perimeters on who knows the truth behind your little farce, only that his father remains oblivious, but you guess it also extends to the rest of the Kook public.

You don't answer him, not wanting to taint the aftermath of good sex with discussions about logistics and labels. You want to enjoy the fleeting moment, even if it's all you get.

Rafe sees your silence and softens his voice. His hand cups the side of your face, brushing his thumb across your cheek. "You're mine, you know that?"

You do, but you don't think it's in the way Rafe realizes. The lines are so blurred, you don't know what's real or fake anymore. You don't know if this is a sentiment shared during intimacy or a parade with the public, or if he does want you. Asking for clarification has burned you twice and you'd rather not put yourself in that situation again.

You're silently asking Rafe to tell you more. To give you more words. To speak. If he reveals that he has feelings for you, telling you he wants you—truly wants you—beyond this arrangement, you would be his. All his.

But Rafe's never been the one to willingly talk and reveal things. You have to break an arm and a leg for him to consider giving you the time of day. You rather not break your heart too.

A banging on the locked bedroom door absolutes you from answering him. "Rafey!" Amara screams from the hallway, "You promised you'd see my dress!"

"Dress?" You turn away from the door. "What dress?"

Rafe says nothing, but the small smirk on his face reveals everything. "Rafe. What did you get them?"

You didn't go with your sisters on their early morning excursion with Rafe. You were too tired and were catching up on sleep. When you woke up, they were already back and had been gleefully locked away in the guest bedroom the entire afternoon.

"Don't worry about it."

Rafe slips off the bed and gets redressed while you watch. You admire the planes and ridges of his chest, and when he finishes, he picks your clothes off the floor and throws them at you, telling you to get up too.

You do, and after you're no longer bared and exposed on his king-sized bed, Rafe unlocks the door to reveal an impatient Amara standing behind the door. She's carrying a foreign doll between your arms; something handmade and name-branded, something she definitely didn't have before.

"Rafe..." You warn lowly, but it lacks the critical threat behind its tone. He just grins at your attempt, grabbing your hand and dragging you out of his bedroom. Amara leads you to the living room, where the registration of how much Rafe bought your sisters comes to light.

Scatters of large shopping bags, of various shops and boutiques you never heard the name of, litter across the floor. Leilani is sitting on one of the couches, messing with something in her hands. A phone. Amara’s ruffling through one of the bags, trying to find her dress.

You turn back to Rafe. "You got to be kidding."

"Just because you won't let me buy you nice things doesn't mean you should deprive your sisters of that opportunity," Rafe shrugs, taking a seat on the closest couch, and tugging you along. There's plenty of room on the cushioned chair, but Rafe decides to pull you onto his lap.

You don't even mind; you like your spot on his lap. His arm lazily wraps around your waist while your legs dangle off the side. While Amara recruited Leila along to search for their dresses—because they have that much stuff—Rafe playfully bites your exposed shoulder.

Finally finding their princess gowns and diamond tiaras, Amara grabs Leilani's hand and drags her off to the nearest bathroom. They're giggling while they skip away, bouncing on their feet, behaving the exact opposite of what you expected them to be after a traumatic experience.

"They're happy."

"Of course they are." He scoffs, "We spent the entire morning ransacking every store downtown, buying everything they set their eyes on."

You chuckle softly, and gratitude passes through you. "You didn't have to do that."

"Nah, I had to," Rafe slides you closer. "Got to stay on their good side, you know?"

You shake your head, hiding a smile. The sound of a door opening is heard and you turn to the source of the sound, expecting to see your sisters return with their costumes, but instead find the sudden appearance of Sarah Cameron standing in the middle of the foyer.

"Sarah." Rafe stiffens under you, surprise evident in his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"It's my house, Rafe," She says with the roll of her eyes.

"It hasn't been your house since you ran away three months ago," he snaps, a hardness to his words. "Where's your Pogue boyfriend now?"

She ignores her brother, shifting her attention to you. "Who are you?"

You feel like you're caught in the crossfire of their rivalry. Before you get the chance to answer, Rafe cuts in for you.

"She's my girlfriend," Rafe sneers, his arm tightening around your waist. "Which is none of your business."

"Gee, Rafe, really a great welcome home party," Sarah says sarcastically, adjusting the large bag over her shoulders, which you presumed is stuffed with her things. She looks back at you. "You're the Pogue my dad mentioned, right? The one who owns the bar near the docks?"

Something about the Cameron siblings minimizing you to a social class. Nonetheless, you nod. "Cool. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry you have to deal with that one," she points to her brother, who's shooting daggers at his little sister. She ignores the look. "Well, I hope you had a good... shopping trip. I'm going to go unpack."

Before you have a chance to correct her, she walks away, and Rafe shouts after her. "Don't unload too much, just in case you wanna run away again," he reminds, to which Sarah responds with a flip of her middle finger, turning onto the stairwell and disappearing.

You don't know how to deal with a Rafe post-Sarah, especially because you've heard of his long-winded rambles about the golden child. You don't even want to step into it, because what Rafe feels for his younger sister is none of your business. It's his complicated family. You can't fix that.

Instead, you pull him back to Earth, turning his head away and tilting his gaze back onto you. His heated eyes, darkened and full of resentment and anger, soften upon meeting yours, and you wrap your arms around his neck.

Leaning into him, the both of you say nothing, doing nothing, until Amara and Leilani emerge from the dressing room with glamorous princess gowns and a crown over their head. Then, they did a little show for you.

The moments spent with you make him forget about his issue with his sister. With her return and what it means to the company. Who earns in favor with their father. 

She’ll be a problem for another day. 

Not realizing how true those words will be. 

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Navigation — Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

[slowd1ving]

KILLER ・゜゜MOZE NSFW

"All you are to me is a bleak obsession I am the mark intent on burning the street How many times can I ask you? How many days can I go without you?" Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs, even if the pair in question is a homicidal crow and a brokenhearted cryptologist. art by @ ma_mori74 on x!!! moze can we honestly e date? you’re so beautiful. You always make me laugh, you always make me smile. You literally make me want to become a better person I really enjoy every moment we spend together. My time has no value unless its spent with you. I tell everyone of my irls how awesome you are. Thank you for being you. (joke) (not really) this was kinda rushed so :3 errr consider this like part 3 of tales of a disgruntled corvid pairing: moze + male reader warnings: nsfw, male reader, mentions of blood/death/violence, alcohol consumption, jealousy wc: 4.5k  

HONKAI STAR RAIL MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

Hǎoshì chéng shuāng. 好事成双. Good things come in pairs. 

Fortune. It is a humorous concept for Moze: tasting of a fleeting childhood dream and the dregs of hope. Fortune, as some know it, comes in all forms. From gilt wealth and corruption, to finding a strale dropped on the street and getting to bed on time—everyone, it seems, tastes good fortune somewhere along their paltry lives. 

Moze’s good luck surmounts to meagre things: not getting blood beneath his nails after a mission; evading the prying eyes of the Yaoqing as he slinks into the shadows; working by himself; and most of all, not running into you. Good luck equals a tidy house and leftovers in his fridge. Good luck equals not needing to stock up on the tools of his trade and knives that don’t need sharpening. Good luck equals a fresh steamed bun and a slow day perched on the roof of a building. 

The point must be made. Moze does not experience auspicious encounters often. 

Conversely, those afflicted by confirmation bias might say misfortune comes in threes. Misfortune, for Moze, is significantly easier to quantify—but to stratify it into threes grossly underestimates the cesspit of chance he’s been allotted. 

One: being outside currently at Jiaoqiu’s food stall while rain drizzles down on him. It could be argued it’s only by his own volition that he’s slurping on steaming chilli-infused noodles as petrichor stains the air, yet that stupid fox decided this was the way to go in terms of conveying intelligence from Feixiao. This was the hell crafted by Jiaoqiu’s hands seeped green with pungent herbs. 

Two: getting his apartment lease renewal rejected a week ago over a development project at his block. Though he had been planning on starting afresh—never one to stay in the same area for too long, just like the rest of the Shadow Guards—he quite liked the nondescript studio. It’s a tidy place: plain and unassuming. What a pity. He’s read the message from his landlord over and over: growing a tad bit more incensed each time. 

Three: the sudden absence of suitable apartments in the districts that he sticks to. None of the flats he browsed were innocuous enough, and the ones that were perfect for his schedule and profession were in dismal condition. 

Four: you purchasing a flat a month ago which perfectly fulfilled his conditions. Two-bedroom, in the lower districts of the Yaoqing, with reclusive neighbours and a walking distance of the Seat of Divine Foresight. Had he gotten the notice for his lease rejection earlier, it might’ve been him there. 

Five: upon asking about his dilemma, Feixiao’s eyes gleaming bright. This was the indicator for certain disaster—an omen as ill as he ever saw. And unfortunately, her gaze next fell on the scripts you were working on, before flickering back up to you. Shit. That was the only thought running through his mind, before she pitched her idea to have him simply move in with you. Say no, he pleaded mentally, but alas—

“Sure,” you mutter, red ink spilling from your pen onto the parchment. Bold characters sign the form off and the letter is folded neatly onto a cycrane absent-mindedly; before you finally look up at the assassin who flinches as your eyes land on his. “S’long as he pays rent.”

Six: you agreeing to this stupid deal. Why? Why? It can’t possibly be the deep veneration for the Arbiter General. Surely your adoration of her cannot be deep enough to let this guy room in your house—an assassin, at that. You aren’t a follower of Qlipoth, but where the hell is your sense of preservation?

Seven: him not actually finding any fault in the building. Not in the surroundings, nor the modest room across from yours, nor the lazy grin on your face as you showed him around the apartment—still expecting him to vehemently shake his head. 

He signed the damned contract, and that was that.

“What’s got you sighing?” Jiaoqiu eyes him from where he’s pulling noodles: sleeves rolled back to avoid dusting the salmon hues with flour. Fragrant red wafts from the pot on the stove, and he’s suddenly reminded of the crimson shirt you wore just this morning—rippling around the taut lines of sinew and muscle as you worked diligently on decrypting ancient alchemical texts. “I thought you found yourself a place to stay, so why the long face?”

Moze keeps his silence. Well, tries to—but it’s not like a singular word will make him any less laconic. Tapping his chopsticks against the rim of the blue-toned porcelain, he evades the question and focuses right on the middle of Jiaoqiu’s sentence. “Somehow.” 

“Right! Your dearest partner—” Jiaoqiu drags the word out, characters stretched tight until they wind right against Moze’s eardrums. He glares: visibly annoyed, yet this only makes the man in his peripherals close his own eyes in satisfaction. “—took pity on you, didn’t he?”

“Maybe.” The assassin slams down the rest of the piquant broth: lips dripping with sanguine. His response is a question in itself—because why the hell did you agree to Feixiao’s request?

“Curious?” Of course he’s curious. 

“It’s not much of a surprise, really,” the foxian sighs, twisting the strands into a neat circle and letting it drop into the boiling water. “Poor thing’s probably still in shock from his breakup. I think he would’ve agreed to pretty much anything coming out of Feixiao’s mouth at that point.”

The man can only stare incredulously. Every part of that sentence is laden with a bombshell. 

“Wow, I thought you would’ve known. Guess what’s said at Qiu’er’s stays there too.” Jiaoqiu’s golden eyes gleam slightly at the mention of the downtown bar. No, Moze didn’t know. No, Moze isn’t currently outright staring at the man no longer in his peripherals. No, Moze cannot hear his chopsticks creaking beneath his grasp. “Woah, don’t break those.”

The fox eyes the crow warily. “Seriously. Cool it.”

Eight: you’re still not over your boyfriend cheating on you. In the drizzle beneath the canopy, this is how your new roommate diligently listens to how his work partner and resident cryptologist really can’t catch a break from bad men. 

“That includes you, you know,” Jiaoqiu squints at an unusually contemplative Moze. Flickering amber lights and the buzz of cicadas makes the assassin seem even more shady than usual. “You don’t have a chance, so don’t even try.”

“The hell are you talking about?” For someone like Moze, his piece of good fortune is that his voice remains steady in almost any sort of situation. This means that anyone hearing this man speak right now would naturally presume he’s affronted at Jiaoqiu’s response out of its complete implausibility. But on the flip side, those who’ve known Moze longer have learnt to watch for other irritated tells of his rather than a wavering voice. The subconscious flex of long fingers. Minute shifts in the elbows propped up on the bar. Biting the inside of his lip, just enough that it’s unnoticeable. But these aren’t things the assassin really takes stock of. 

For a brief moment, Jiaoqiu’s friendly smile drops and he peers at the man askance. Is he brain dead? “...Okay.”

And that is how the tall man—hunched over in the downpour to not let his noodles get too cold—first learns of matters of a more personal note of yours. In the rare grey skies that cast over the Yaoqing, it’s a chance to digest this information he’s learnt. 

But he doesn’t care. 

He doesn’t. 

・゜゜

A painful month passes for Moze. 

There’s nothing else to describe it—psychological torment is the only fitting description of your behaviour. Outwardly, nothing changes. He still hates you, and you still hate him—two arguing peas in a pod with a mutual dislike being the only thing in common between the two of you. Outwardly, behaviour-wise, nothing changes. Outwardly, appearance-wise, something does. 

He first notices it about three weeks after that waterlogged conversation with Jiaoqiu. There’s a faint aroma of sweet-smelling smoke on you—a long cigarette holder between your fingers as you read a thick book on the couch. He’s never seen the thing before in all your months together. Sure, the Yaoqing tobacco scent fades quickly away to not linger  in the case of a borisin’s especially sharp senses—but he’s never seen that sort of heavy-lidded expression on you before. When you glance at him, it’s usually irritatedly—not like this, where your glance is hazy and your lips are parted to blow plumes from your mouth. 

Shit. He doesn’t quite know why his heart speeds up. 

The second thing he notices is that every week or so, there’s a clinging perfume to your body: never your usual clean scent, one that clearly belongs to a different person. This is the same time he starts noticing you slipping on shirts with longer necks on missions—a darker imprint just about peeking above the material. 

He’s not an idiot. He can put two and two together. 

The third instance of misfortune is your habit of wandering around after a shower with nothing but a towel wrapped around your waist conservatively. Sure, the area from your hips to your knees is covered—but what about the rest? He finds himself growing more irritable during work hours. Marks not caused by injuries still bruise your skin; as you turn your back in the kitchen to make yourself a mug of tea, his eyes rove the dips and valleys of your back. Categorising each wound. Systematically detailing each little infringement on your skin. 

He doesn’t particularly know why. Maybe his obsession with tidiness crosses over to people too. 

・゜゜

It happens like this. Occasionally, a man as ill-fortuned as Moze receives gets a break. 

There’s a tumbler of whiskey on the low coffee table in the living room. Polished chestnut—if you had to describe it—with the light shining through the amber liquid just so, until it reflects onto the varnished surface. A cube of ice sits dainty in the middle, clinking as you tip the glass this way and that. 

“Don’t spill it,” the assassin murmurs. From behind the couch, breath ghosting just past your ear. You don’t shriek (perhaps he hoped you would)—you don’t even glance his way. 

“I feel like that was a redundant warning,” you remark brusquely, taking a swill of the liquor. It’s sweeter than it would’ve been normally: courtesy of the saccharine pipe nestled betwixt your fingers and the smoke still lingering in your mouth. “Were you hoping I’d jump?”

“Yes.” Short. To the point. Laconic. That’s how those outside this home would describe the man currently leaning down, hands splayed on the backrest of the couch. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, and you still haven’t done the dishes.”

“It’s your turn,” he adds, because he likes seeing how this man’s expression wrinkles in exasperation, likes that stupid cant of your head—for it means Moze has won this little encounter. It’s all because he strongly dislikes his roommate, no other reason. 

“You suck.” Syrupy plumes ghost his face as you exhale into his face above—he doesn’t move back, even as the traces of burnt caramel become far more prominent, even as it feels like you’re blowing him a kiss more than anything.

“And you need to clean and go to sleep before you’re late,” he grits out, more annoyed than he was a moment ago. He’d say it was due to your lack of responsibility, but this angle allows the loose robe to expose your bitten collarbone—like some stupid fucking trophy. “Like you always are.”

“I’m never late, A-ze,” you enunciate each word in such a way that makes it clear you’re not drunk—so clearly the nickname is just to piss him off. A last-ditch middle finger; a threat that hasn’t worked for some time, one that makes his stomach churn uncomfortably but not enough to admit defeat. “You’re just up stupid early.”

He goes silent, in the way he does when you’re right. Instead of saying anything, he instead plucks the glass from your hand: downing the smooth alcohol from where you drank it, enjoying how for once your mouth closes just like his. The pipe in your hand tilts this way and that as you take a drag thoughtfully—recovering far too quickly for his liking. 

“A-ze.” Like this, with wisps exiting your mouth and silk draped over you, you look good enough to eat. He freezes at the implication of his thoughts, freezes at the sound of the name blanketed in some gruesome replica of affection. He hates it; hates how his heart squeezes and a faint flush of red dusts his cheekbones. Aeons. 

It is common knowledge to not toss a starving dog a bone before it hungers for more. 

“What, you don’t hate it anymore? Here I was, hoping you’d turn tail and leave,” you sigh, theatrically despondent—much like you normally are. Too damn dramatic for your own good. 

So desperate, drinking your sorrows away as if that’ll possibly work. He scoffs, striding the short distance over so he can tower over from the front. 

“Maybe you just like calling me that,” he breathes. There’s a smile playing on his lips: the rare one he gets when he knows he’s got a point, knows when he’s right. It’s unconscious—he’s far too oblivious to notice it only occurs around you. 

“I do,” you murmur. “Bet it warms your heart though. No one likes you enough to call you that.”

“So you like me?” There’s an odd buzz in his veins tonight. As the orange lights from the street blink into existence, and the room is no longer illuminated by ‘day’, he’s glad for the darkness that conceals the heat in his face. Your clothing rustles as you stand—practically nose to nose with the man in front of you.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze,” you mutter, and the heated breath from your lips fans over his sensitive skin—mingling with the tobacco wisps and alcohol vapour. He swallows. “It’s pity.”

“Pity?” he sneers. “Like how you sleep around to get over your boyfriend? That’s not pitiful?”

“Like I said—” your tone becomes frigid as you shift closer: until his chest brushes up against yours, until he can count every lash that glows amber in the incandescent street lamps, until he can practically taste the rolling fury off your tongue. Warm. Scalding heat ebbs from your body and flows right into his own. “—don’t get ahead of yourself, Xiaoze.”

His breath comes in ragged waves. So close. When he stands so near to a human, it typically means he’s feeling life flow from them. Not like this; but he cannot bring himself to get away. 

He’s never been more thankful for his unwavering voice. 

“Don’t give bones to starving dogs,” he murmurs, mellifluous rather than jarringly annoying. “They’ll bite.”

Smoke wafts into his face as you survey his expression: flushed, brows knitted taut, lips still slick with liquor. 

“So you’re a dog, now?” Your fingers graze his chin, canting his head this way and that as he makes no moves to evade your grasp: heart beating miserably in his chest. There’s a strange sort of hunger in your gaze. 

He’s never seen it before. 

“No, it was proverbial—” Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “—you know?”

“Just as desperate as one,” you mutter. Trailing your finger down until they graze his collarbones, it’s no wonder he flinches—and you stare at him, unimpressed. “If I tell people about this, your reputation would immediately disintegrate. How many years have you cultivated that stupid mysterious image?”

“Hah—who would believe you?” It’s true, not many people would—but alas, the important ones have already witnessed this man looking at you. 

“Jiaoqiu, but I guess he already knows what a loser you are.” And you miss how when he lowers his head, he looks like a completely different person—flushed visage mired in shadow, like the assassin he truly is. He’s staring right at you, unblinking as he watches the cruel movement of your lips. 

“Don’t talk about him right now.”

And so, you don’t. 

・゜゜

This is the prelude leading up to this particularly humiliating scene. 

Humiliating, because propping himself up on his elbows on your bed isn’t a position he thought he’d ever find himself in. Humiliating, because he never gets drunk, so why the hell is his head spinning? Humiliating, because for once the mellow deep of his voice is pitched a note higher—larynx taut with suppressed groans. Unsteady, in a way his voice has never been. 

You taste like the pipe still tipping in your fingers: candy-sweet and saccharic. But there’s also the heavy aroma of liquor on your breath, mingling bittersweet with the plumes of smoke wafting from your fingers. Beneath that, blood from a scrape on your lip—acrid and metallic. That is what he knows, so your lips moving gently against his feels so utterly foreign: and not just in the way they taste. 

When you pull back for air, his eyes are blown wide in surprise; his mouth has only ever been used to bite, after all. You seem to instinctively know this as you take a long drag from the stick, blowing the curls of vapour into his mouth when you pull back in: to induce a slight tingle into him presumably (but Lan knows he doesn’t need aid to feel that buzz). 

Languorous. That’s how he’d describe it—for it seems you only ever work lazily. There’s no hurry as you lick past the seam of his lips. There’s no hurry as both your scalding mouth and your arid fingertips trail downwards, past the vales of his tense abdomen. There’s no hurry—but Aeons he wishes there was, for your hand slipping under his shirt and against his stiffened nipples are much too damn slow. 

“Do you—do you even know what you’re doing?” he mocks, like he isn’t currently jolting as you roll the pink flesh between searing fingers. You raise a brow: lucid against the otherwise irritated thoughts. 

“Do I?” you copy his broken whine, gripping the fat of his tits coarsely while the rise and fall of his chest becomes ever so slightly more shallow. If only he could see himself right now: jarred at every turn, pupils blown out, and the residual sheen on his lips. Every damn hue of purple littering his neck and collarbone. And if only you could see better in this darkness—spot that obsessive fervour in his gaze, one neither of you are quite aware of. 

“Do you have any experiences to compare it to?” you counter, twisting your hand while he glares at you heatedly. Nothing. Quiet as a corpse when you make an irrefutable point. 

No, that’s right, you grin sardonically as you slip the long cigarette back into its place on your nightstand. Syrup drips from your mouth as you twine your free hand in his hair, tugging until he groans into your lips with his own in that mellifluous cadence. 

You’re harsh as winter. 

No, cruel.

Cruel, as you trail your hand from his chest to his waistband—palming him roughly through his pants. Cruel, as you pinion his hips against your bed to prevent them from bucking into your hand—fingers digging desperately against your sheets as you grind against him. Cruel, as you swallow each whine with your warm mouth: so sweet, so gentle even as you wrench your hand into sinew, flesh and everything beyond. He can taste the arid heartbeat through your mouth, and he’s sure you can feel his own—pulsing hotly as he yields his worries to you, just for a moment. 

Or two. 

He’s inexperienced, but even he knows what the tension in his abdomen signifies. The distinct tremors in his legs, the pain as he digs his nails into your thigh, the tightness coiling his body into rigidity. Puppet-like beneath your machinations: manipulated this way and that way with strings unseen. 

Fucking his hand has never felt like this. 

As he writhes, he greedily swallows you whole. Taking everything, including your bloodied lips, including the faint caramel tracing your tongue, including the strangled gasp as he grasps your nape with burning urgency. Aeons. He’s breathless; judged human lust far too soon. Against your brutal palm, the fabric of his trousers is slick with his release—wet patch a testament to his sin. 

Yet still you rock against him as he rides out the mind-numbing pleasure: limbs infinitely heavier from the tension suddenly all releasing. 

But he forgets how cruel you are. 

One final sweet kiss later—nails raking past his scalp and the other hand warmly pressed against his cheek—and you pull away with a lazy smile. 

“Go to sleep.” The directive jolts him awake, like a bucket of ice-cold water breaking apart a dream. Dissolved like candy, like the damn fluid in Penacony connecting the conscious and unconscious. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, remember?”

Like the cat that got the cream, you smile Cheshire-bright. A fucking riddle on your lips. “And I still have to do the dishes, remember?”

He’s left stupefied: numb lips, a reeling head, and an impercipient body. Once more, the shower he douses himself in is frigid—but nothing could be as cold as what just occurred. 

What the hell? 

He presses his palm to the lower half of his face in shock. 

What the hell?

Seriously, there’s something wrong with you. And as he glances down, he realises with utmost horror that his problem has not yet died down yet. 

What the hell?

Important things must be said thrice. Duplicitous in nature, Moze’s fate both turns for the worse and better simultaneously. 

The bone has been tossed. What will the starving dog do?

・゜゜

All actions have consequences. 

That is a proverb universally recognised by all walks of life: trodden on by kings, revered by alchemists, and vowed by the weak. You reap what you sow. What goes around comes around. Equivalent exchange. 

The natural outcome from that night is mutual silence. You don’t speak of that evening, and neither does he—face flush with implication, yet unwilling to actually divulge his thoughts on the matter. Sure, he finds himself with his hand attempting to recreate your rough friction (teeth clenched around his shirt as he paws at his lean chest)—but it never quite works, and all of his colleagues are privy to his especially curt mood. 

Joint missions with you are now a thing painful. Tense. 

The strings that bind him to you are taut with the feeling. Constricting, tightening, until he can sense their imminent breakage. 

This leads this unusual pair to this scenario. You, fresh out a shower and post the nth mission of this month. It’s only been three weeks since that night, and watching you meander about the kitchen with only a towel slung low on your hips is giving him heart palpitations. Steam curls from your body; each time you shift, he’s excruciatingly aware of how it appears just like that smoke from that night. 

“A-ze. What do you want?” 

That’s the golden question—what snaps him out of the trance—and makes him realise he’s practically pressed up against you from the back. No, scratch practically. His arms are on either side of the counter, pinning you in position as you continue stirring the fragrant drink. Feeling that damned sear of your skin is driving him into the throes of madness. 

He wraps his arms around you, burying his face in the crook of your neck and not heeding the rivulets that seep into his clothes. So warm, he wants to murmur—but talking is for those who want to speak, and he does not want to. Not in this moment, where he’s appreciating the soap you used, the lotion spread onto damp skin, the inherent smell of you. 

His teeth graze the vulnerable juncture. You turn, and he can see your eyes waver, feel the rapid thrum of your pulse as you become aware of just how desperate he is. “A-ze.” And your hands roam his waist, tracing the taut muscles betraying his anticipation. 

His lips are heated as he leans into you: a snarling mess. Trembling fingers trace the expanse of your soft body, like you’ll ghost away just like the wisps you smoke. 

“Need you.” It’s not a plea—the rough deep of his voice makes him sound demanding, as arrogant as ever. “Haven’t I behaved?”

He’s so damn desperate as he grasps your body: bruising and fatal. He’s desperate as he kisses you heatedly, desperate while your hands brush past the feverish skin of his stomach, desperate as you push him against the couch—too hasty for the bedroom. Now, he chokes out. Now, now, now. Please. 

Pliant beneath your hands, it’s not exactly the longest time until he’s gasping beneath you. So tight, you may have commented: drunk on the sensation of him fluttering around your probing fingers. Aeons. 

He’s so malleable: arching into you as soon as you line yourself up. It almost makes you feel bad for him: feeling him flinch whenever you brushed past him, watching his face bloom scarlet as he saw the marks on his neck in the hallway mirror. Almost.

It’s because he’s so cute like this: drooling amidst all the broken noises as you slam into him. You’ve never quite seen him this dishevelled, not even during that night. Hungrily, he’s sucking you right in—paying no heed to suppressing the almost-pained moans dribbling past his open lips. 

What a mess. 

Physically, it can only be described as such. White globs decorate his flushed skin messily: pearlescent in the dim lights of the living room. He can’t even begin to count how many times his weeping tip has stiffened, not when you’re so damn insistent that he forgets how to speak properly. It’s not like you’re any better; each time you look down there’s that frothy ring that strings you two together. 

Emotionally, it’s also quite the mayhem. You don’t particularly know where to look when his eyes have that gleam in them—a sort of fervour that one rarely ever sees. Even now—pupils hazed with lust and eyelids lowered heavily—he’s staring right up at you, content as can be whilst you drill mercilessly into him. 

Fuck. 

“Come on, you—ah—can do better than that,” he taunts. As though he doesn’t look completely fucked-out, as though there aren’t tears leaking from his foggy eyes. You’re not sure where he gets his audaciousness from. 

He’s beautiful. 

“This is why no one likes you,” you hiss, sharply tugging his hair back to hear his surprised whines. Supplicantly, he does exactly what you expect. Loser. Aeons, he sucks. 

“Yeah?” he grins. “What does that say about you?”

“That I’m a no one from the Intelligenstia Guild,” you answer against his neck, feeling his throat constrict as he swallows. Though it’s only minutely, his nails dig somewhat deeper into the flesh of your back—marking you up just as much as you’ve marked him. An acknowledgement of your words. 

Well. 

You suppose you’ve always been drawn to the pathetic ones. 

・゜゜

[h-sleepingirl]

Trance Processing

Sometimes I think people are so scared of thinking things during trance, of knowing things about how hypnosis works, or about getting distracted. But your hypnotized brain can come up with amazing things -- things you’d NEVER think about when you’re awake.

He was hypnotizing me on our date this weekend and it was just one of those times that I went DEEP -- that I felt myself shift out of reality and into a space I never really understand. There are times when this happens for me with a certain lucidity, very much like how people explain inducing lucid dreams from wakefulness, shifting into a dreamscape while you are aware of your state of consciousness changing around you.

I stared up through lightly wetted eyelashes, and they began to refract rainbows from the harsh lights dotting the ceiling. Twitching, glowing, otherworldly rainbows all overlaid on my vision. I thought in a spellbound moment: “People could see these and think they’re angels.”

I remembered a concept extrapolated from Maimonides, the famously rationalist Jewish philosopher: Angels are no more than the natural forces of the world. Not separate mystical beings, just all forces that make the universe function. Angels for why the wind blows, angels for all the tiny mechanisms involved in a blade of grass growing.

So I thought maybe Maimonides would say there WERE angels in my eyelashes, angels responsible for carrying my partner’s words into my head and hypnotizing me.

Then something in his voice hooked itself into my body, making me shudder, and making the idle thoughts melt away.

I really think there is something to embracing “trance processing” -- even Erickson in 1970 talks about how in hypnosis, people’s thoughts don’t stop but instead take on a dreamy, weird quality. 

I think part of that is relaxing our urges to be hyper rational about hypnosis. I don’t think analysis itself is a problem -- and I don’t even think rationalizing is always an issue. I have gone plenty deep crunching on technique and theory in the midst of trance. But I think you can learn to develop a sense of wonder at what your brain is doing that will lead to a holistic view of trance as something mysterious and magical.

The reality is, you can’t anticipate what your brain is going to do in trance. And it’s amazing to me that it doesn’t have to fit a format or follow a script or sound sane. Angels in my eyelashes hypnotizing me? Come on. Obviously that’s weird. But it was a little poignant dream-thought in the middle of intimate time. And that’s what it’s all about -- not the stories you tell other people, but what your brain is actually doing, what you and your partner are actually creating together.

(I wrote a weird guide in 2023 called SIX DAYS ASLEEP that was created to help people build their “trance processing” muscles, if you’re interested. It’s hosted in full on my website.)

[deminetly]

ᰔ GUIDE TO SCRIPTING AN S/O ᰔ

template here

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┆ABOUT THEM

basic info template

traits to script - weird, interesting, selfless, creative, supportive, caring, sweet, open-minded, fun, funny, adventurous, understanding, silly, helpful, thoughtful, unhinged, deep, positive, loyal, empatchetic, shy, cool, patient, passionate, wise, trustworthy, generous, humble, brave, reliable, inspiring, authentic, playful, romantic, confident, protective, charismatic, rebellious, mature, strong, tough, honest, provider mindset

their vibe (style, music taste, etc)

their love language (physical touch, gift giving, words of affirmation, acts of service, quality time)

their hobbies

a fun fact (examples: scared of mannequins, has been to north korea)

signature feature (dimples, a scar, a big birth mark)

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┆ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP

general vibe (hot and exiting, soft and loving, fun and adventurous, playful and teasing, romantic and sweet)

tropes (enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, fake dating, forbidden love, secret relationship, second chance, love triangle, summer fling, forced marriage)

duo archetype (black cat and golden retriever, sunshine and grump, flirty and clueless, nervous wreck and calm, chaotic and responsible)

how you met/will meet

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┆QUESTIONS TO HELP YOU DEVELOP IT FURTHER

describe your relationship in 3 words

what was/will be your first date?

how would they describe you?

whats your favourite memory together?(if you havent met yet, whats something you cant wait to do with them?)

how do you two balance each other out? are you opposites that attract or two peas in a pod?

have you ever gotten into a fight? why? how did you fix it?

do you guys have a shared secret?

do you go to the same school or maybe even work together?

do you guys have a shared dream? (ex: travelling to another country together or starting a business together)

whats their signature scent?

whats the craziest thing you have done together?

whats your biggest similarity? how anout difference?

how do they text?

how so they comfort you when youre upset?

what are your future plans together (kids, marriage, future home, future pets, etc)

do you guys like the same kind of music? which bands or artsits do you like?

whats the most thoughtful gift you have ever given you? what would you gift them?

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┆THINGS TO SCRIPT

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things they do:

always has fun stories to tell

they match your energy

always getting you small but thoughtful gifts

always gets you flowers

always giving you massages

about them/the relationship:

princess treatment

obsessed with you in a healthy way

you like who you are with them and they like who they are with you

worhips the ground you walk on

they always have time for you

they give amazing advice

always puts you first

makes your life easier and better

same humor and taste in music, movies, books, etc

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┆SCENARIOS TO SCRIPT

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post 3

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post 5

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┆EXTRA

make them a playlist

make up a new tiktok trend so you can do it together

make a moodboard about your relationship

write them a love letter

plan your matching halloween costumes

design matching tattoos to get with them

write a diary entry about a date with them

draw you and them together

make them a gift for their birthday and celebrate it in your cr