#finally writing about the trip

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

"I think this is my favourite way to touch you" she said lovingly, while gently tracing circle after circle with her nails along my bare back.

"What?"

"Scratching your back, I think it's one of my favourite ways to touch you. That, or playing with your hair."

I post a lot about how stone4stone love has been healing for me in a way that is so profound and almost spiritual, but finally having it in person has only taken that to a whole other level. My darling femme saying this caused my entire world to slow down as I processed what, up until that point, I thought impossible. A fantasy that would never fully be spoken.

For context, my top three favourite ways to be given physical intimacy/love are the following:

Having my hair played with over long periods of time

Scratching my back and scalp

Massage, especially when chronic pain flare ups are bad

I react so intensely that it excites people a lot of the time. You'd think I was having sex if you were simply listening to the sounds from the other room (which is ironic given I actively hate receiving during, joys of being stone). For my entire life, for my nearly 15 years of dating, every single person before my femme has followed the same pattern.

They'll discover how positively I react to scratches/hairplay, and they actively engage in it regularly due to the advent of your new partner enjoying something that much. Inevitably they get bored but will continue because it makes me happy. Eventually though, the novelty fully wears off and the only true way I can get that level of attention is when I explicitly ask for it. I've often gotten sighs followed by "oh alright" as if it's some chore, or worse yet, half sarcastic "if only you made sounds like this during sex". Every single time I'd inevitably start feeling guilty, anxious, and simply stop asking.

The sheer number of times I'd ask myself "if I said I never wanted to receive during sex again, if I wanted intimacy in only this way, would so-n-so be upset" and the answer was always yes. Always. I'd begun to internalize that my way of receiving was a chore. That how I wanted to be loved was a reward to be earned.

Then comes this absolute darling of a femme, unprompted during our quiet night of non-sexual intimacy after a long day, casually dropping that her favourite way to show me physical intimacy is tied between scratching my back and playing with my hair. By accident in a single half-entraced phrase she took my perceptions of love, what I deserve from love, and what I could expect to receive, shattered them into a thousand fragments, and then stitched them back together into a mosaic that would make the Byzantines weep.

There is something to be said for your partner loving you in a specific way because it is how you like to be showed love, even though it's not their preferred method of showing it. It is a league-of-its-own different feeling to find someone who shows you love the way you want to be shown love because it's how they prefer to show love. She has taught me that and I am never settling for less again.

I've said it before, and I'll say it again.

Stone4Stone is Holy.

[spacerockband]

finally realized you might be in love with the computer lady you’ve been going steady with for a while now on earth and she enthusiastically says i know!

[puhpandas]

Veering Off Course

(2,305 words)

Gregory and his family get a call that Vanessa, whos in a different state for college, has gotten hurt. Gregory calls Evan, and Evan is able to use the things he's learned about himself since meeting Gregory to help his friend with his emotions regarding the situation.

Its early in the morning on a Saturday when Evan gets the call. It woke him up, so all he does is blink groggily and swipe at the screen blindly while propped up on his elbow until his thumb hits 'answer' on his phone. "Hello?"

"Evan." It's Gregory, and the serious tone to just that single word clears up Evan's brain as fast as lightning. He scrambles to prop himself into sitting up and rubs at his eyes with one hand.

"Gregory?" Evan asks, looking at the little icon he set for Gregory's contact of a picture of Evan and him at an amusement park. "Is everything okay?"

It takes a second for Gregory to respond, and it causes the anxiety that had steadily began to bubble inside of him to surge. "Gregory?"

"Sorry." Gregory finally answers. "I-- Uh... can you..." His friend struggles for words, and Evan tries to be as patient as possible as it becomes clearer every second something is wrong. "Can you come over? Like right now?"

Evan flounders for words for a second, but manages to force his mouth to say, "Of course."

"Okay." Gregory replies, and a surge of worry shoots through his chest when Gregory sounds like he might cry. He takes a breath on the other end, then, "Please hurry."

After that, Evan only lingers enough to respond with a short confirmation and goodbye before hanging up the phone. It takes him record time to shoot out of bed, sling on some shoes, and get down the street a few houses to Gregory's own.

His mind had played multiple awful scenarios of what terrible thing could have happened the entire time, but his worry does not ebb when he makes it to the porch and knocks on the door to a teary eyed Gregory.

Evan's immediately herded inside. Freddy has his phone in his hand pressed up against his ear, and he's pacing around the room. Aunt Chica and Aunt Roxy sit in the living room. Bonnie is sat in a dragged-over dining chair by Freddy and frowning.

It's dead silent in the house; even the TV and seemingly endless energy flowing through and causing bustling noise is snuffed out to nothing. Evan watches as everyone sits completely seriously and quiet, hands held in their lap or thrumming against something.

Impatience, is what Evan first thinks of. They're waiting for something. News, maybe? Freddy is on the phone. It's so silent you could hear a pin drop. Or somebody else's phone vibrate.

Evan's dread and anxiety only get worse when Gregory shuts the door behind him and tugs on him a bit. Evan follows without struggle, thousands of words and questions on his tongue when Gregory leads him to one of the unoccupied seats in the living room; a loveseat.

He sits down with him, and Gregory's face is scrunched up in barely restrained worry. Evan watches his friend, who's been an anchor for himself for so long, tremble and hunch in on himself. "Gregory?"

Gregory's eyes dart to him, and Evan leans down, hunching forward with his elbows rested on his thighs like theyre their own personal bubble. Evan's own brows furrow, and he feels the familiar thickness in his throat just at watching his friend be upset.

Evan grabs at his hand, squeezing it tight and lacing their fingers together. "I'm really worried, Gregory... please tell me whats wrong." Evan pleads. "Please?"

Gregory nods unsurely after a moment, and Evan watches him swallow thickly before turning to him fully. "Dad got a call from the University of Oregon today."

Evan's brows raise, but he nods to keep going. The University of Oregon is the college Gregory's sister, Vanessa, had left home to go attend. Evan hasnt gotten the chance to meet her, yet. She's already been gone two years strong, with a seemingly bright future. Evan's heard Gregory and his family talk about her enough to know her talents.

Gregory's breath hitches, and Evan wraps his other hand around Gregory's, the one he already has ahold of. He sandwiches it in-between his own and hopes it's enough comfort.

"Somebody called us and told us Vanessa got into a car crash today. On campus."

It's like a bucket of ice water is poured on Evan's head. His feet go cold, and his eyes widen to saucers. Fear shoots like an arrow through his stomach. When he stops reeling from the news, he watches Gregory begin to shake and lose the carefully gathered composure he'd put up since Evan arrived.

"They said..." Gregory's brows are furrowed so much it looks like it hurts. Theres a clench in his jaw and a wetness to his eyes Evan isnt used to. "They said she's already been taken to the hospital and is in surgery." He frowns, and theres a twist in his lip that Evan is so familiar with. "They... a-all we can do is wait. They told us they'd let us know any updates."

The house is thrown back into such jarring silence after Gregory stops talking that Evan's ears start ringing. Which makes it clear as day when Gregory's breath turns harsh beside him.

Evan tears his eyes away from the floor and ignores the twisting feeling in his chest to look at his friend. He has his face buried in the hand that isnt held by Evan and is shaking in a way where you can tell theyre trying so hard to keep it together. Gregory's angled away from him, but Evan can see the panic on his face even from where he can see.

Evan's breath hitches, and the thickness in his throat begins to turn into burning as he scootches closer to Gregory on the couch and sets a hand on his shoulder. He tugs a bit until Gregory gets the message and let's him wrap his arms around his middle and hold him close.

Gregory makes some sort of horrible, upsetting hitching noise that causes the dam to break for Evan, before he sort of flops against him and brings up his own arms to clutch at his T-Shirt. Gregory's head thumps against his shoulder, and it's one of the only times Evan really becomes aware of the height he has on his friend.

"Its okay..." Evan says into Gregory's shoulder, because it's all he knows to do in the moment. He glances around and sees that Gregory's family has shifted to the dining room, leaving them alone. Evan finally feels the tears slip from his eyes as he presses closer, hugging him like his life depends on it. "Its okay, Gregory. It'll be okay."

"It's--" Gregory says, and Evan can hear how much his voice shakes with barely contained tears. "Its not. I can't-- We can't even go see her. We can't go and wait for her to wake up, or anything... we just have to--" He cuts himself off, and Evan feels Gregory shake harshly against him.

"We just have to sit here." Gregory says, voice thick. "I dont know what to do, Evan. I don't know what to do."

And its only that sentence that causes Evan to grapple at what to do, if his friend can't. And all he can think about is how himself would react if it were Gregory getting hurt.

All he'd be able to do is cry, he realizes. He wouldnt be able to do anything. Just wait and be scared.

But that's what Gregory is getting at, isnt he? He can't do anything. That's the thing. Evan has known Gregory long enough to get him. To know, him. Evan knows that Gregory doesnt sit around and cry like Evan does. He prefers to get up and do something about whatevers wrong.

Hes a problem solver instead of waiting around. A fighter instead of a crier. No wonder hes so bent out of shape about this. To have a loved one in danger, and when you're so used to getting up and making a plan to fix a problem and are forced to sit in standby...

Evan eases them down against the cushion of the couch, not once untangling themselves from eachother. Gregory shakes, but he does not cry. "So what would you do if you could?"

The hair from Gregory's bangs brushes against Gregory's neck as he moves his head. "I'd... I don't know. I'd at least try to get to her." Gregory says, voice unbelievably quiet. "At least get to her. Then figure it out from there. Just so I'm not waiting on phone calls."

Evan nods against him, his chin scrunching up Gregory's hair. His tears have long since stopped falling, but he knows he has dry tracks on his cheeks. "You have a plan."

Gregory makes some sort of noise that would sound like a snort in any other circumstances. "I would if I could." Gregory replies, squeezing his arms a bit tighter. "But I cant" He sighs, shuddering and heavy. "I just have to wait."

Evan hums. "You're worried, and you're stressed." He makes the same noise Gregory just did. "I know how you feel... I really do. Maybe not your exact situation, but... I get what it's like to feel helpless." He says. "You know what I would do?"

Gregory hums this time, questionative. Evan rubs circles into his back. "I'd sit there and wait, and wish for it to different. And when it wouldnt be, I'd cry."

Gregorys head shifts against that crook between Evan's chin and chest, almost like hes trying to look him in the eye but the hug prevents him from being able.

"All I ever did was cry." Evan says when Gregory doesnt respond. "Its the only thing that I could do to cope."

"...So..." Gregory asks, and his voice is thick again. "You mean..."

"You're stressed." Evan answers. "You're stressed and you're worried. So... why dont you let it out?"

Evan, out of anyone, knows how valuable emotions can be. He didnt, once upon a time. When everyone would just tell him how annoying it is. How useless it is. How he's asking for it. How he should have toughened up by now. When instead of comfort, he'd receive ridicule and prodding.

That's changed. Ever since a certain someone entered his life. He doesn't think of his emotions, himself so little anymore. So worthless. So maybe that's why Gregory perks up ever so slightly in understanding.

And that's all it takes.

Gregory's trembling turns into shoulder shaking sobs like the snap of a finger. He cries, open and unadulterated, and Evan just hugs him close and rubs his back, offering reassurances like Gregory has done for him so many times.

His own eyes burn when his best friends sobs are heard so openly and he can feel every shudder of his body. Evan's chin scrunches, and the tears fall right along with Gregory as Evan hugs him close, tucking his face into his hair.

"Im--" Gregory cries. "I-Im just so worried about her."

"I know." Evan responds, his own voice breaking as he pets Gregory's hair. His shirt is damp with tears but he doesnt care. "Itll be okay. It'll all be okay."

They stay like that for a while, and Evan can tell Gregory needs it. He needs it. The worry he felt that morning doesnt ever really leave, and it stays ever-present as Evan watches his friend fall apart. They stay stuck together like magnets, eventually only shoulder to shoulder with linked hands on the loveseat, and none of Gregory's family try to peel them apart when they eventually wander back into the living room.

They stay in a state of constant agonizing limbo all day. At 8:00pm, Freddy calls it a night. Gregory protests immediately, but Aunt Roxy calms him down almost seamlessly and convinces him to go to bed.

Of course, Evan follows him. He cant imagine a world where he doesnt. The air mattress stays deflated in Gregory's closet as it has been most of the time nowadays. All Evan has to do is kick his shoes off since he left home in his pajamas anyway and they're wrapped around eachother, tucked in Gregory's bed under his comforter in the dark.

Gregory is silent all throughout the night, even though Evan knows he's awake. Evan just hopes that... he did the right thing. Something knows is that suppressing how you feel isnt good. It never works. No matter how much you want it to.

Gregory taught him that. He just wants to return the favor. Not because he owes Gregory, no. Gregory has long since hammered it into Evan's thick skull that he has nothing to pay him back for. That his kindness is not a deed to Evan, but rather that Evan himself deserves to be treated kindly.

Gregory does, too. Evan knows this with all his heart. Gregory is his best friend and has done more for him than anyone else ever has.

Evan... all Evan did was change. Change for the better. And hopefully he helped the most important person in his life with the things he learned. The things that person taught him.

He hugs Gregory's middle a little tighter, not daring to break the silence. Gregory needs time, but doesn't want to be alone. Evan understands. He does. He just hopes to convey what he truly feels through the one action.

Thank you. I'm here for you. I'll always be here. You're my best friend. I'm so glad you trust me. I trust you as well. So much.

Gregory himself wraps his arms tighter around Evan in turn, and Evan feels like the single movement lso has a deeper meaning he cant read.

They dont speak. They just lay in silence until eventually they fall asleep, stuck together like two puzzle pieces.

ao3 link

[calamitoustide]

funeral - phoebe bridgers/unknown/the nostalgic feeling poem by atish home chowdhury/funeral - phoebe bridgers/unknown/funeral - phoebe bridgers/after the movie, marie howe/unknown/unknown/funeral-phoebe bridgers/unknown/@/nobodysflower/funeral-phoebe bridgers

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

[taps mic] wings are to black mages as tails are to genomes, they're just axolotls about it

[ranger-kellyn]

look, i love ALL the avatar's equally. i think they all have a unique and fascinating story, and are all well-suited for the issues of their times. i can't pick a true favorite.

anyways, time to go plan out my fifth avatar fic where one of the primary settings is kyoshi island, and one of the characters connects with her spirit--

[seenthisepisode]

~~~

[farfromstrange]

bad news, i might be experiencing a bad case of writer’s block

good news, my plane for london leaves first thing in the morning. it might offer me some inspiration. i packed my laptop, just in case.

london always seems to heal any block that might arise in my head. can’t wait. so excited but also anxious but mostly excited. AHHH!

going to the land of my people (charlie cox, harry styles, andrew garfield, joseph quinn, jamie bower…) there’s just a lot of them, honestly. i have a thing for hot british men. maybe i’ll meet one, who knows. fingers crossed!

[droil]

the dark urge to buy a steamdeck solely for bg3

[void-botanist]

Okay I wanna ask you Blorbo wrapped questions back lmao. I'm also curious about who you thought was coolest, who you rotated in your head the most and who was most fun to write. But also, did you have anyone that was kinda driving you up a wall but then something clicked and you really figured out how to write them? If not, who's still driving you up a wall?

Kendrick! I think you saw that I got too excited and answered my own questions over here but who has been driving me up a wall is an excellent question, lol. There are a few who aren't actively driving me up a wall (what's up with Aza huh) but the people who I still haven't got a hold on are Declan, Horatio, and Sid.

I'm almost hesitant to say Declan because I don't think I have a hard time writing him but I also feel like I haven't fully keyed into the fact that he's an autism creature of a man (and also making it clear that the way the rest of the crew does things behind his back is not them infantilizing him because of it but more complicated than that. They do think he's fragile but that's because of how he's handled his grief). Also like. He literally trusts his crew with his life. But he is so so bad at talking to them and I haven't totally figured out how that all works out.

Oops this got long so here's a cut

Horatio got a character lift in this version. He's always been a sweetheart but that evolved out of him having A Sense Of Justice while also being generally pathetic and wet and soft. Now he has the Standing family deviousness that goes along with it and I don't know how to write that. Because also he looks completely different to Sid, who knows him very well and who he's open with, than he does to Avis, who hates him somewhat for the circumstances of his birth (she tries not to because it's not his fault) but extremely much for being sun-coded in the "cheerful" and "unavoidable and intense" ways. So like, what is he plotting (especially about getting Sorian and Avis back together) and how is he plotting it and how does this dovetail with the happy-go-lucky florist which is equally as much who he is?

Sid on the other hand is challenging in the sense that writing him feels fine. He's a real everyman if you will. Except I don't get his character and I think that's a major stumbling block for AOM as a whole. Yeah, on some level he has to be the sad traumatized guy but like. How does he handle his parents trying to run his life once he takes a massive step outside of their frame of reference? How does this work with Avis's story? (Can I successfully shove these two stories into one thing that is a whole? They have so many themes in common help) In his earliest iterations he was the devil-may-care I'm-doing-my-best guy who mildly tormented Horatio Sense Of Justice and I guess they've sort of flipped? Except Sid is always the Doing My Best guy.

Also when it comes to Anni and Zel, Anni is so easy to write with all the technical stuff and much more challenging with the romance stuff and I don't want it to be that way aaaaaaa

As for who did click, I think I'm getting there with Patience (even though I haven't worked on TFA in a while), Rodney worked better when I just let him be soft, working out Fay's whole divorce history helped make her easier to write (she's not pretending to be the good suburban mom. she just is sometimes and other times she sucks), the fact that Wylie hates himself cracked his whole character wide open, and lately I've realized that a critical part of post-divorce Sorian is that he's tired. He's tired of Avis needling him, always being there but never being there for him. He's not even sure he deserves for her to be. But he kinda wishes she would just leave and move on so he can too.

[dyed-red]

DOUBLE TIME TRAVEL FICS? we readers are truly getting spoiled.

Haha yeah. I've been chipping away at mine in the background here since probably like... Late 2019? Or early 2020. I sort of thought I'd just leave it as a "forever in the drafts folder" because it's uh, it's something, and tbh I've never been sure if others will like it at all or if it's one or those pieces that's really just for me.

buuuut I keep returning to it every few months for the last 3 years I guess, and it's grown both on the page and in my head so much and I have so many fresh pieces for it that I'm excited to draft, so I'm talking about it more. It's still self-indulgently "for me" in that it's a miserable plot-heavy slog with a deeply messed up and traumatized version of Sam and all sorts of messy interactions with his fam. And flashbacks. Because I'm a sucker for a flashback and love writing them (or otherwise interrupting the flow of linear time in a story).

But anyway!

Roni @applecrumbledore has also been an inspiration and has cheered me on a bit, which has helped :) it means I may get around to actually finishing this fic (it's over 50k words already but I'm expecting it to tap out over 80) and posting for the niche audience who might enjoy.

[alildritten]

Ah yes, the scariest story of all:

G A Y

(/j)

[storms-path]

FFXIV Write 2023 Day 13 - Check

Arashi awoke to pain.

“Hold still, I’m still working here,” was the brusque reply, followed by a hand forcing her back down. Arashi just about had energy enough to turn her head to the source of the voice, eyes still blurry. Fareena (or the green-ish blob that was probably Fareena) was rolling something around her leg, something white and long. It hurt. But she wasn’t the voice. To her right, Stalwart’s arm (again, probably) was keeping her neatly pinned down as a steady stream of aether flowed from her into Arashi’s broken body.

“Smashed ribs, broken femur, cut in more places than I care to count, one bad enough to require immediate stemming. Fareena, apply pressure on her right hip, that’s where the cut is deepest.” Fareena complied without a word, for once robbed of pithy comments. “What was that thing? Surely it couldn’t have only been a man, surely…” Quieter, low enough that Arashi had to strain to hear it. Something was wrong with one of her horns. It felt lighter.

“Y’shtola…” she managed to gasp out, voice rough and unsteady.

“Krile’s tending to her. She’ll live, if only just.” Stalwart’s own voice was strained, devoid of her usual tone. “You, on the other hand, nearly bled out before we could get to you.” Arashi’s vision was getting clearer, clear enough to see the tears staining Stalwart’s face.

“Sorry,” was all she could manage. Fareena grunted, perhaps in amusement or perhaps in admonishment. Her face gave nothing away. “The others? Alive?”

“Thanks to your idiocy, yes.” Stalwart must have been terrified to be this terse. “We were too late to save Mefrid, he was gone as soon as the sword pierced his heart. Several other resistance members are too injured to fight any time soon. But you held off that monster long enough for us to evacuate.” At the cost of yourself, was the unspoken conclusion. Arashi was sure she heard Fareena muttering something to herself, perhaps that the reckless Au Ra reminded her of herself. Somehow that was worse than Stalwart’s comments.

Arashi’s gaze was drawn to something in the corner, something red peeking from a rough length of cloth. Fareena followed her gaze to the object, then quickly looked away. Arashi furrowed her brow in confusion before realisation clicked. Her sword. Or what was left of it. The crown prince of Garlemald had shattered it like a child’s toy. The best craftspeople of Idyllshire had come together to gift her that blade, and now it was barely more than a hilt and a jagged edge. Utterly useless. To its side, tucked against the wall of the dingy tent, was her mother’s blade. Sheathed and waiting patiently. Her only choice now.

“Where are the others?” Arashi asked, her strength slowly returning despite the pain.

“Taking stock of their losses,” was Fareena’s reply. Her dry undertones were also vacant, her eyes harder than Arashi had ever seen. Making ready to pack up and move, from the sounds of it. Their spirit broke when your sword did.”

Nothing for it, then. Arashi slowly pushed herself up, ignoring Stalwart’s shocked gasp or Fareena’s warning glare. “Take me to them. Carry me if you have to.” Her voice brooked no argument. “Or else I’ll crawl there myself.” She wouldn’t abandon the fight, not now. She’d never be able to face Lyse again.

Fareena and Stalwart exchanged a glance, then looped their arms under Arashi’s shoulders and lifted her to her feet… and past them, into the air. Arashi’s squawk of surprise was quickly shut down by Stalwart’s glare. “It’s this or nothing.” Her voice brooked no argument either. Together the pair half dragged, half carried Arashi out of the tent and into the night, to the dimly lit command table where the leaders had gathered. Alphinaud was speaking, making some grand point about a war on two fronts and dividing the enemy’s attention. None of them noticed the trio approaching until Arashi spoke up, willing her voice to be as clear as it could.

“Then we take the fight to Doma.”

Silence erupted, then a chorus of alarm, surprise and dismay. The Warrior of Light was swiftly ushered back to her tent… after she made Alphinaud promise not to leave her behind.

Doma. Her sister. Her home. I’m coming. Wait for me.

[qlventingspace]

Buckle up darlings, because I'm gonna expose you to my weird ramblings and sorta self-exploratory shit regarding asexuality and kink.

(this is your cue to leave if you don't wanna hear that)

After a chat with my dear friend I realized that it baffles me (in a good way, like wow this is so interesting!) how many differences there are in acespec people. How many factors are influencing our view on sexuality and how many details are often needed to explain our sexuality and our unique take on relationship with sexual stuff and relationship stuff.

You could generalize and say, asexuality is lack of sexual attraction. And it sorta is...but then... it also isn't, not always.

It's little to zero sexual attraction or it is 100% sexual attraction with the right emotional investment for a particular person or it is anywhere from 1% to 100% just under very specific circumstances or it's very randomly and unexpectedly sexual attraction or it's attraction only to fictional people and not real people or it's attraction to person as long as they don't reciprocate or...

I'm not even sure how many more different and unique details there can be that are all very different and specific but at the end of the day it just all boils down to asexuality.

I think most aces either knowingly or unknowingly doubt their aceness.

And if you throw in some confusing stuff which is not usually stated as the "universal asexual experience" then you come out of it even more confused.

Am I ace if...?

Okay, so we handled sexual attraction. How about some views on sex?

The usual: sex-positive, sex-negative, sex-indifferent, sex-favorable, ... Describing your view on sex in general, your view on others having sex, or how you yourself feel about participating.

Not confused enough yet?

Throw in some libido, then.

Masturbate just because your body needs an outlet? To relieve stress? Just cause you're curious? Or do you also enjoy it? Seek it out? You like to look at some nsfw pictures? Like to get horny? Imaginary situation to get you off is fine but not real life? And what about your special someone, real life is not okay unless it's about them?

You still with me? Still not confused enough?

Alright then, throw in Kink.

How is it that you have kink while being ace? How can you be ace if you enjoy certain kinks? *horrified gasp* Kinks while masturbating?! *clutches pearls* Are you still ace? Are you not just pretending or scared of relationships? (imagine annoying inner voice)

And now to me.

It surprised me how many people who are engrossed in VegasPete and absolutely adore and love and identify with kinky king Pete are asexuals.

I'm not saying all of you are kinky and it's none of my business. Fiction is fiction and we often love characters we do not identify one bit with.

But...

For me, Pete was kinda revelation. Distant memory. And longing.

And oh boy it had led me into another fit of re-discovering myself and re-discovering or perhaps also reshaping my view of my own asexuality.

Often people see aces as innocent, naive and awkward regarding sex and sexual situations.

So to see people headcanoning Pete (kinky and incredibly not innocent Pete!) as demi might not make sense to many people. It does to me.

I am not immune to the deep-rooted view I adopted through my more than 20 years of living "heavy kissing inherently leads to sex" and "engaging in kink is also inseparable from sex"-

I still struggle with the thought that kink doesn't need to be linked to sex. I am baffled by the thought that people do kink with other people. Or in front of other people. My mind just don't wanna grasp that.

But at the same time I understand that some things feel good on their own. And some things feel good with the added bonus of slightly different kinds of pleasure.

There is also a very clear distinction for me when I think about doing this things alone vs. doing them with imaginary someone in imaginary situation vs. doing them with someone in real life.

Bit lacking still good, good plus longing and get this away from me.

Many experiences like this seem to be in stark contrast from the experiences of the ace majority (or at least most talked about experiences that seem to be complete nah or mostly indifference towards sex, masturbation and kink). It has lead me to questioning if I am actually ace, when I have this weird relationship with sexual stuff and yet...somehow, I never felt anything but asexual.

M' point is, I don't think I had a point.

BUT I wanna spread different ace experiences and if this helps at least one ace to find themselves or to stop doubting themselves than it is worth it.

Unless tumblr decides again that my posts are not worth sharing in the assigned tags in searches, lol.

[fightwing]

new teen tit.ans summary

[pangolinheart]

FFXIVWrite 2023 DAY 22 - FULSOME

Eulmore is home to many horrors: some big, some small. Sometimes it's the little ones that stick with you.

Rating: Teen Genre: Angst, horror Characters: Z'rhiki Irhi (Warrior of Light), minor Eulmoran NPCs Word Count: 874 Content Warnings: Mentions of character death

It was the third time she had vomited since coming to the First.

The first time had been shortly after her arrival. The trip had left her dizzy and disoriented, and the ocean of vivid purple surrounding her had not helped to settle her stomach. She had been overzealous in her attempts to right herself and had paid the price for it.

The second time had been in the aftermath of Tesleen’s horrific death. Even among all of the awful things she had witnessed in her role as the Warrior of Light, that had easily been one of the worst. She doubted she would ever forget the way Tesleen’s body had convulsed as the corruption seized it, or her agonizing screams when the transformation overtook her. She was thankful that she had long ago learned to disconnect the parts of her that were capable of terror or anguish or disgust in times of crisis, at least for Alisaie’s sake. She had managed to keep her head while shepherding her stricken friend and the blank-faced Halric back into the safety of the camp. She had maintained her composure long enough to settle them both the best she could, and deliver the grim news to the other carers of the Inn at Journey’s head. Then, she had quietly excused herself to empty the contents of her stomach behind a stack of crates.

Compared to that, the trigger this time had been almost mundane. She couldn’t say for sure what about it had made her insides churn so violently, but the outcome had been the same.

Eulmore itself was a deeply unsettling place. Despite, or perhaps in part because of, its reputation as a bastion of pleasure and plenty, it had become obvious that the city played host to its own share of horrors before they had even made it past the gates. It was less a paradise and more a bloated corpse. It was a fulsome banquet that had been left to rot. Though the sight of it could certainly prove tempting to hungry passersby, closer inspection would reveal only moldering fruit and maggot-eaten meat. It was a feast that could only be enjoyed by those willing to eat in the dark, or those simply too starved to care.

It wasn’t just the excess, the exploitation, and the total disregard for the lives of others that chewed on her nerves, however. While those things were terrible enough in their own right, they were nothing that couldn’t be found in Ul’dah or Ishgard, if one bothered to look. What disturbed her about the citizens of Eulmore was just how happy they all seemed about it – the free and the bonded alike.

That, she decided, was what had churned her stomach about her conversation with the poor auri songstress and her employer: the giddy way they had talked about the girl’s “ascension”. They could call it whatever they pleased, what they were discussing was feeding her to a sineater. And they both seemed so damned pleased about it. It tore at her how thankful the woman had been for the grisly death sentence she had been handed. Rhiki didn’t know whether the “ascension” process involved becoming a sineater or simply a meal for one, but she had seen both and would wish neither on anyone, not even this Lord Vauthry she had heard so much about.

Tears stung at the corners of her eyes as she wiped the remaining traces of vomit from her lips. She had no doubt they both believed what had been said. It would almost be easier to think that the doomed musician was being deceived by a capricious lord who merely wanted to be rid of her, but the free Eulmoran to whom she had been bonded had sounded so sincere, going so far as to even bring up with fond anticipation his own ultimate fate. She couldn’t help but imagine the young woman excitedly presenting herself for execution, believing that she was being blessed right up until the pain started to seep through her. Would she feel confusion? Betrayal? Anger? She would almost certainly feel fear, the poor thing.

She doubled over again.

She wished she could run after them, grab the songstress’ arm and dash as fast as she could out of the city, back to the Crystarium, but she knew that she would never make it down the stairs, let alone through the gates. Eulmore still commanded a sizeable guard, after all, and she knew the girl would fight her every step of the way.

And what of her employer? Would he be allowed to live in blissful ignorance until his own ascension was upon him? Would there come a day when he realized the terrible fate he has inflicted on his cherished songbird? The type of death he had unknowingly sent her to? If he did, she didn’t envy him that. He may have been a feckless, morally bankrupt noble, but even still... She could only imagine the ways that would torment him until his own dying day.

She breathed deeply. In and out. In and out. When she felt confident she wouldn’t be reliving any more of her past meals, she straightened up. She had to find Alphinaud.