#guess i'm back to writing

[reilemon]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊Cool Off₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

♡︎ pairing: Zayne x fem!reader

｡°⚠︎°｡MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)｡°⚠︎°｡

♡︎ cw: unprotected sex (oops), office sex, semi-public sex, oral sex (f!receiving), fingering, I think that's it?

♡︎ word count: 3.4k

♡︎ synopsis: what to do when you "accidentally" flash your doctor?

♡︎ a/n: I haven't written smut in like three years. So if you think my writing is cringe, just keep scrolling idk.

♡︎ special thanks to my beta reader ♡︎ @its-de ♡︎ for reading and helping me with this

banner by @cafekitsune

You finally have a day off and you want to use this free time to run errands. However, it's also a hot summer day and you need to dress accordingly. After cleaning your apartment and stocking up your fridge, you have -

meet up with your friend

shop for some new summer clothes and bed sheets

doctor’s appointment

You'd just skip the last one because you feel fine, even during the hot weather.

But you know damn well Dr Zayne will not be pleased with you if you do that. And he's not only your doctor now (and a childhood friend), but an actual friend who you spend most of your free time with. Circumstances of him being your assigned physician, some other stuff that happened in the last few months, brought you so much closer that you couldn't help but develop a huge crush on him. And how could you not when he's so kind, warm, attentive, always makes time for you, funny in his own way... you could spend the whole day thinking of all the stuff that makes you want to be more than friends.

Actually, you might be more than just friends. Lately, you’ve been going on a lot of “dates”; visiting festivals, trying new restaurants but also frequenting your favorite ones, dragging him to the arcade… he’s started insisting on being the one to drop you off at home after a night out. Just a couple of weeks ago when you were sick, he came to your place and took care of you. Both of you ended up falling asleep on your bed watching your comfort movie – actually, he wanted to read his book but ended up invested in the plot and eventually fell asleep before you, tired from his shift and nursing you back to health. You had enough strength to get up to pull out a freshly washed blanket from the closet and cover him. You lied back down, finding comfort in watching Zayne’s peaceful sleeping face. That’s how you fell asleep.

The next morning you found yourself waking up on Zayne’s chest, your form enveloping his. He was gently stroking your back, waiting for you to open your eyes. You don’t know whether you were the one that latched onto him during the night, or if he’s the one that pulled you in; nonetheless, it felt surreal to wake up like this. You looked up into his beautiful hazel green eyes, and you just shared a moment of pure intimacy. Then you got self-conscious of him having a close up of your morning face, which made you immediately jump from the bed and sprint to the bathroom. So, he did manage to nurse you back to health in one day.

You really wish he made the first move already. With all the stolen glances, lingering touches, cuddling, you genuinely think he feels the same way. But you are also his patient, so maybe he feels uncomfortable starting anything, like he’s crossing a boundary and abusing his position as your physician? Maybe he’s waiting for you to make the first move?

Or maybe you’re just delusional and ovulating.

Okay, back to the present. You’re not going to pass up the opportunity to see your crush (this is more than just a crush, honestly) and you add one more task to the list

get some dessert for Zayne

And you want to look cute for him, so you opt for your new backless summer dress.

☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊☃︎⋆⁺₊

“Thank fuck, I look okay.” You murmur as you check yourself out in the mirror in the bathroom of Zayne's office.

It's just before 8pm, your scheduled checkup. Both of you were too busy to hang out for more than a week, and you can’t wait to see him. You took this opportunity to leave the heavy shopping bags on the sofa, the bag with dessert on his desk, and quickly freshen up in the bathroom. It was so hot today, still is, but thanks to the dress you didn't sweat that much.

You exit the bathroom the same time he enters the office. You catch how his usually stern gaze behind his glasses softens at the sight of you.

“Hey!” You don’t waste any time and shorten the distance between you, wrapping your arms around his neck giving him a peck on the cheek.

Zayne’s hands stiffly hover over your waist, stunned by the enthusiastic greeting. You always have a big smile on your face when you see him, but you’re only this forward when you have some alcohol in your system. He doesn’t smell it on your breath now though.

“Did you miss me that much, or are you trying to coax me to skip the check up?”

You pull away with a pout and a blush on your cheeks. Feeling a little embarrassed, you go and sit on a chair across his desk, steering the conversation towards the dessert you brought him.

With an entertained smirk, he sat on his chair and indulged in just chatting with you, and making plans for the evening. He feels at ease now that you’re here.

Zayne cuts the conversation short to take care of some paperwork, so you entertain yourself with your phone, checking what cafes are open. You sit there in silence, not wanting to disturb him. The room is air-conditioned and you would think you'd start to cool down, but it's impossible to do so when your crush is right across you. You try to focus on your phone but your eyes keep darting between the screen and Zayne’s handsome focused features…his hand holding the pen… his long fingers...

“You need to ask me something?” Zayne peers over his glasses.

Busted!

For like a hundredth time.

You fidget in your seat. “Um, no. I don’t wanna disturb you.”

He closes a file and puts papers aside. “I’m done. Go ahead.”

You make up how you wanted to ask him if he wanted to visit the café on your screen, only to for him to point out it’s closed when you show it to him. Not smooth at all.

You nervously scratch your back, and that when it hits you. You didn't wear a bra today!

In your defense, of course you're not going to wear a bra with the backless dress and when it's so hot outside, and it would be okay if this was just a hangout, but the main reason why you're here is because of the check up! Well, now you're getting even more flustered and you can feel nervous sweat forming everywhere. Great.

Zayne's voice fades into focus.

"Is everything okay?"

“Yeah, let’s just go find a cafe that’s nearby!” You prop yourself to sit up and make a run for it, but the seriousness in Zayne’s tone stops you.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You wave your hand “I feel great, you don't need to -"

"That's good to hear." He humors you, setting the stethoscope around his neck, eyes not leaving yours.

You engage in a short staring contest, but you never win those with him. You hold back the bratty whine as you get up and walk towards the chair. Should you address this? What would be more awkward – saying that you don’t have a bra on or just slipping off the top of the dress, flashing him? But Zayne is a professional; he probably saw plenty of breasts from other patients and didn’t bat an eye. And maybe he even noticed that you’re braless.

You sit on the chair next to him and Zayne gives you an amused look. “Good girl.”

It was like a reflex - the moment you heard those words, your hands slipped off the top of your dress. Zayne pauses, his eyes locked at the sight before him. Oh shit, did you manage to make the situation awkward after all? Just when you wanted to open your mouth to say anything, he blinks and proceeds to do what he’s supposed to do. You suck in a breath when the icy cold stethoscope touches your chest spreading goosebumps across your skin, making your nipples hard. Zayne's eyes are focused somewhere to the side, but you can see light redness peppered on his cheeks. The two of you sit there in silence while he checks your heartbeat. You try to compose yourself, take slow breaths, but your heart is giving you away.

When he’s done, he takes off the instrument and places it on the table. He clears his throat “Nothing irregular, your heartbeat is a little faster, but the heat is probably to blame.”

Right, the heat.

You hope that the redness, still on his face, and his ears, is not from the sun.

Again, you have two choices – do you pull the top up and act like nothing happened, continue the same ‘will they, won’t they’ routine – or do you want to do something about this, take the first step and find out once and for all if this infatuation is one sided?

You take his hand, making him look at you, ‘Well, can you help me cool down, Doctor?’

Zayne eyes widen slightly, switching between your hand and your gaze, only guessing where you’re going with this.

You gently place his cold hand just above your left breast ‘Is this okay?’ you whisper.

Zayne’s irises are almost black from how dilated his pupils are. As he gazes into your doe eyes, the hand resting on your chest travels up across your skin and lands on the side of your neck. He takes off his glasses, leans towards you, his lips a breath away from yours, “You’re walking on thin ice, darling.”

He grabs you by the back of your neck and pulls you into a searing kiss. Zayne is kissing you like a man starved, like he's been waiting for this for so long, afraid that this moment will slip away all too quickly. His other hand wraps tightly around your waist, pulling you closer, pressing your chests together, feeling each other’s heartbeats. You moan into the kiss, surprised by the intensity of it and the desperation of his embrace. His lips are so soft and tender, just like you imagined too many times. The hand on your waist travels up to grab your breast, the sensation of his big cold hand on your heated skin making you gasp against his lips. He seizes the moment to lick your bottom lip, then slipping his tongue, yours quickly meeting it.

Suddenly, both of his hands land on your shoulders pulling away.

He utters ‘fuck’ (this might be the first time hearing him say the f word, and you’re embarrassed how excited it made you.) He holds your chin with thumb and index finger, ‘Do you wish to continue?’

You utter ‘yes’ and grab him by the black necktie locking your lips again. His hands find the top of your thighs, then sneaking their way down to bunch up your dress over your knees.

“Hold onto me.” He murmurs between kisses, and you oblige, catching onto his shoulders. Zayne grabs you by the back of your soft thighs, lifting you from the chair and placing you on his desk, so effortlessly and swiftly, like you weigh nothing.

Your fingers comb through his soft, thick hair, relishing in the fact of being able to touch it like this. His hands cup your face, distancing his lips from yours. You expectantly look up to see his tender, yearning gaze. He looks like he’s about to say something, but then he kisses you again, this time softly, slowly deepening it, stealing your breath away. His soft lips move to kiss and nip at the side of your neck, his hands giving attention to your breasts again. He caresses both of them, and it doesn’t take long for one of his hands to be replaced by his lips. His hot tongue teases around the nipple. But when he starts sucking on it, while simultaneously playing with the other one with his fingers, a loud moan escapes your lips.

Zayne’s smirks against the sensitive nipple, “You need to stay quiet, darling.”

You were so dazed with lust that you completely forgot that there could be people outside his office. You bite your bottom lip and nod.

He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, one hand bunching up your dress more and resting on your hip, while the one on your nipple sneaks its way down, teasing the band of your underwear. You feel his fingers slide down, rubbing you over your soaked panties, making you move your hips, craving more friction.

“Fuck.” He breathes against your ear, “You’re already so wet for me.”

The fingers travel towards the band of your underwear and tug on it, and you lift your hips to let him slide it down your legs. Then he stashes your panties into the pocket of his pants.

He catches you by surprise when he kneels down in front of your cunt, your legs closing on reflex, but Zayne grabs your thighs before they could squish his head.

He gently strokes them, "Let me see you."

You’re hesitant about it, but you remember that you took extra steps when you freshened up in the bathroom. Slowly, you spread your legs, lifting your feet to rest on the edge of the desk. Cool air against your soaked pussy sends shivers all over your body.

His hands rest on the plush of your inner thighs. His eyes are mesmerized by the sight in front of him. You almost feel self-conscious by the close-up he’s getting.

"Zayne –" You squirm under his stare.

Snapping out of his daze, he meets your eyes "I’m sorry. You’re just so much more beautiful than I imagined."

Than he imagined? The statement makes your cheeks even deeper red, your pussy more wet and impatient.

Feeling impatient himself, Zayne starts by placing gentle kisses on your inner thigh. The hand on the opposite side follows the same trail, his slender fingers stopping to tease your wet folds, the contact making you gasp and involuntarily clench your thighs.

"Relax, angel." His breath fans over your pussy, not making it easier but you try anyway.

The digits slowly glide over the wetness, bathing in your juices. Your hips flinch as his fingertips lightly circle your clit, thighs trembling as digits are replaced with his hot tongue. It glides flat over your folds, stopping to circle the sensitive nub. The tip of the tongue flicks over it, circles it, again and again, your cunt dripping with both his saliva and your arousal. His middle finger slides in, ring finger shortly after, curling to reach and rub that delicate spot inside you; he sucks and licks your clit while finger fucking you, and your thighs are now shaking, toes curling, as intense waves of pleasure course through your body.

Your hold onto Zayne’s hair, and roll your hips in the same rhythm of his fingers, chasing your release, "Zayne… I’m gonna–"

He locks eyes with you and continues what he’s doing; you come shortly after, covering your mouth with your hand.

Zayne helps you come down from your high, places soft pecks on your thighs again and stands up, pulling you into another breathtaking kiss.

Your hands frantically find his belt and start unbuckling it.

Zayne breaks the kiss, ‘I don’t have any condoms here.’

You shrug ‘Just pull out.’

‘That’s not very respo – ‘

‘Well, you’re a doctor; you can prescribe me some plan b pills.’ you innocently flutter your lashes.

He chuckles and starts taking off his tie and shirt, and you take a moment to gaze at the strong, chiseled muscles of his torso, his arms and those shoulders. Zayne, amused at your dazed and shameless ogling of his  shirtless physique, reaches down to unzip his pants, taking them and underwear off in the same go, his hard cock smacking against his shaved pelvis. You suck in a breath when your eyes land on it. He's long and thick, curved just right, tip glistening with so much precum. You hand wraps around it, stroking and feeling the pulsing veins under your touch.

Zayne’s breath hitches ‘Are you sure – fuck…’ He groans when you press his length against your slippery folds, teasingly moving your hips.

‘Yes… I need you.’

With those magic words, Zayne swipes all the papers off the table, grabs you behind the knees and lifts your legs further, and you lean back to rest on your elbows.

His dick strokes your slit, tip teasing the entrance, but you're so impatient.

'Zaynee-' you whine.

He closes his eyes, jaw clenched. Even though your ‘friend’ is the embodiment of calm and collected, right now he’s barely holding onto his composure. His flushed cheeks and red ears, ragged breathing are exposing how badly he wanted, needed, this and how he’s trying so hard not to cum right here before even slipping the tip in.

But he doesn’t want to wait any longer; with your needy whines spurring him on, he places his red cockhead against you, your drenched pussy making it easy to slide it in.

His leg muscles tremble, trying to restrain himself from bottoming out the same second; with shallow thrusts, he slowly slides it all the way in. He towers over you, one hand resting on the desk, the other cupping your face. His hips roll at languid pace, his hooded eyes never leaving your face, watching you adjust to his size.

As you get comfortable, you grab him by back of his neck “Faster, please…” You breathe. He leans down, locking your lips into a sloppy kiss.

He slowly picks up the pace, his hand starts playing with your nipples again, and now it's really hard keep your voice down. You keep breaking the kiss in desperate need to catch your breath, but moans escape your lips as well. Zayne grabs your upper arms and pushes you down further. His muscular torso pressed against yours, his pelvis rubbing against your clit.

“Zayne - I'm close”

“Try to stay quiet, angel.” he grunts, his eyes locked on your face, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He angles himself so his hand can reach down and rub your clit, and it’s too much for you - you cum a few seconds later and Zayne has to slip two fingers of his other hand into your mouth to keep you from screaming. You still whimper and moan over his fingers. He slows down to help you ride out the orgasm, and pulls out the fingers to kiss your lips.

'Is it okay to pick up the pace now? I'm so close.'

You only nod, unable to form any words. He plants a kiss on your temple and moves onto kissing and sucking your neck. Then he goes back to just looking at your face while he picks up the pace, your legs locking around his waist, pulling him even deeper. You bite your bottom lip, but at this point, you feel it's impossible to stay quiet. And now it's not only you who is making noise, but the desk, although sturdy, is starting to move and creak.

You gasp as he suddenly lifts you off the table with his big arms wrapped around your torso. You wrap your arms around his neck, holding onto him. His hands grabs your ass and starts moving your hips in unison with his, his throbbing dick thrusting so much deeper, all the juices leaking down his balls and onto the floor.

You latch your teeth onto his neck to keep yourself from screaming while he’s panting feverishly into your ear.

‘I’m gonna come soon –‘

You meet his gaze ‘Don’t pull out.’

His hips stutter at your words, eyes widening for a second. He curses under his breath and picks up the pace. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, lewd gasps and pants interrupting.

His hands squeezing your ass in a bruising grip, he grunts against your lips, and you feel intense throbbing of his cock; warm liquid filling you up, sending shivers all over your sweaty body.

His slow pumps let his thick cum drip out, making a mess of his pants and the floor. You can feel how fast his heart is beating against your chest. The two of you catch your breath as your lips share a languid kiss, enjoying the warmth of each other’s bodies.

After pulling out, Zayne sits you on his chair. He kneels in front of you, caresses your cheek, his eyes full of adoration. “I never thought our first time would look like this.”

You lean into his palm, looking at him with sweet innocent eyes, “Oh? What did you imagine then?”

“I can show you later.”

[factual-fantasy]

Been thinking about these cookies again to cope with the fact that I have no motivation to push though the last 3 episodes (+ 1 movie) of Transformers: Prime 😂💔💀

[bumblingbabooshka]

I love Vulcans we need to get more into the emotional lives of Vulcans without imposing Human standards onto them. "The way you feel is wrong/repressive because it's not the way it's "supposed" to be from my perspective as an alien called Human" is boring to me especially when it's treated as correct. I wanna know how the aliens feel about their alien way of life. Vulcans are so interesting to me when written AS aliens and not as analogous to repressed Humans. I think about Tuvok's description of attachment to his family and how that isn't the emotion 'love' but something else, something that he feels no shame about having and sees as normal, as naturally Vulcan and I love it and I love it because there aren't any Humans there to go "Um actually checkmate you Vulcan s.o.b - that's emotion!" and he isn't being influenced by anything. These are his authentic thoughts. He sees his children, his family, as part of him. They were at times illogical, incomprehensible, and it was extremely rewarding to be in their lives. He thinks about them every day. They were well behaved. As teens they were contemptuous of authority and convinced of their own superiority. His youngest son loved one 200 verse story so he sang it to him. He'd rather die than betray his wife even in spirit. He's incomplete without them. It's obvious through Tuvok that Vulcan life is not inherently devoid of pleasure, comfort, or love and thus Human life (I think) should not be portrayed as inherently having something greater, deeper, more meaningful. I'm not talking here of society but of...emotional life. Interiority. There's this sense that all Vulcans are the same and miserable for it. That they hold themselves back and are indistinguishable and antagonistic to the self, repressed and wrong. That to be Vulcan is to suffer endlessly and Humans are all about Freedom Man and I don't know, I like that Tuvok's existence sort of challenges this as much as I acknowledge that Vulcan society is in fact repressive and unwelcoming to those who don't fit neatly into it. I'm not saying Vulcan society is a utopia, I'm questioning the perception of Vulcan emotional control - that way of life - as being inherently bad, devoid, or lacking. That Vulcans walk around with 'empty cups' and are only deluding themselves that to be that way is good. If only, Humanity moans, they could taste how delicious life could be! Tuvok is an average Vulcan. He does not struggle with emotion, he is not mixed species, he was not raised atypically, and yet he has a family he cares about and a wife he's loyal to and friends he values and none of these things seem to be Un-Vulcan to him. If Vulcan life was truly devoid of love and care, Tuvok wouldn't think of his family. They're not here, so why bother? When his pon farr came, he'd be trying to find the most compatible mate rather than risking his life by trying to meditate through it out of loyalty to T'Pel. T'Pel would also have just given Tuvok up for dead instead of waiting and his children wouldn't have traveled all the way to the most holy temple on the planet to say prayers for his safe return. I think these things are interesting and I wish they'd been explored more. The fact that caring about your family, caring about your friends, is not Un-Vulcan. The fact that Tuvok at no point longs for Humanity, sees nothing better or of interest to him in it. (Even in his teenage rebellion he only says he's sorry he was born Vulcan which reads less as Vulcan v Human and more like 'I hate this goddamn family' ykwim?). I want to know more about how Vulcans interact with each other, how they care for one another, what it means and what it's like to be Vulcan in more of an everyday way rather than what it means to be Vulcan vs Human.

[forestshadow-wolf]

There's two sides of Soap's anger, Ghost thinks.

Explosion and Implosion.

A difference which results the same, one which you need to know the man to find, and furthermore must understand the man to see.

A difference that Ghost has only just begun to unveil to himself.

A difference which Ghost used to call anger and feelings anger, but the closer he looks the more it becomes clear that it's so much more than that.

It's a difference that's near difficult to see, but impossible to miss once you know it.

It shows it's self in his eyes, in the tension of his body, in the heavy of his breathing. But even more obviously it floods in the very physicality his words.

The explosives anger drips from his bared teeth like blood when he growls "Fuck you!" In the face of a man larger than him. It's anger, yes, but also logic and rational. Like a wild fire it burns and spread with a vigor unmatched. Burning anything in it's wake. Hot enough to melt metal, and burn even the ash itself. It's hunger and bleeding and growling and snapping. It's a muzzled animal throwing it's body against the bars of it's cage, bloodthirsty, and murderous. It's betrayls and poor orders, and it's ignorance, and insults and power trips that spark this explosive anger. It's the easy one. Ghost knows it like the back of his hand. It is Ghost. And it's utterly beautiful on Soap. And it's the only thing Soap wants anyone to see.

It's the impolosive anger that's hard to see. It's steel doors slamming shut when he spits "Fuck you!" In Price's face, or Ghost's. And it's just anger. Pure, irrational, feeling. Hurt, and fear, worry, sadness. Like a collapsing building with sketch supports and crumbling walls. The ceiling caves in, and debris fall. Dust choking the life of anything that breaths, coating it in fine white powder. It's festering infection. It's whimpering and cowering. A trembling creature in the corner of a cage. Flinching from touch. It's bad news, and personal hits that blow out the supports and implodes thus anger. The destruction is the same, the the target falls inside instead of out, hurts nothing but himself. It's hard to see for all the broken and burned bits, it looks the same as an explosion. But it's utterly devastating. And Ghost doesn't know this kind of anger. He's still learning the signs of Implosion, and he keeps cutting his hands of the shards. And each drop of blood seems like another ton that soap sinks under. And Soap only shows the damage, not the target.

[hockeyspiral23]

Things I've Learned Over My First Year As an Author on AO3

(in the Empyrean fandom)

The things you write that you love will rarely be the things other people love. But, if you're lucky, you'll find a small group of fervent supporters who will love and enjoy said things just as fiercely as you do.

The closer to canon it is, the more people will likely enjoy it ... especially if it deals with canon ships. Generally.

More exposure isn't always better. You might think it might be nice to have something blow up and get to a large size (... well, relatively speaking within the fandom), but it's also terrible, because of the increased levels of criticism, expectation, and how it will color anything you write moving forward. Yes, I'm speaking of the truth in our scars. Yes, I'm happy it got the notice it did, but I also regret it. I'm wavering on whether I truly want to write the sequel or not (despite having jotted down bits and pieces) ... especially because I genuinely loved the remix, felt it was the improved version ... and it got a fraction of the attention and the same - if not more - criticism. I also feel so much pressure to seriously deviate from canon and write an entirely new story … and that was never my intention with the first one. Truthfully, I almost wish ttios hadn't gotten big for how much it ended up fucking with my mental health. And I will 100% say that it is probably a me thing.

The community is both wonderful and terrible. I'm incredibly grateful for the community and have met some wonderful people, but certain spaces are incredibly cliquey. I do not think they intend to be, but it certainly feels like it. And I know I'm not the only one to feel that way.

(and we already know how much I feel on the periphery of things - and I will say that that was written specifically regarding a portion of the community.)

~*~

I've published 500,444 words in one year. I have a few other projects marginally started and one or two about half-finished. But right now, I don't really feel like finishing them and publishing them. Quite honestly, I'm disheartened and have been questioning on whether I want to keep writing for a little while. I've barely written shit over the past few weeks. Had I not already had a good chunk of ttios: fate's remix written by the time I was finished posting the truth in our scars, I may not have posted much of anything else.

If you enjoy your writers, tell them. Be kind to them. Interact with them. Even if they seem weird, or awkward, or a little off. Even if they're not at the popular kids table. Because honestly? The lack of interaction has made me less likely to interact with a lot of fics as well, despite me knowing how much authors appreciate it. But it's really made me less inclined to interact in the fandom overall.

Before you share constructive criticism, even if you don't mean it to come across as condescending or hurtful, sometimes it'll still be interpreted that way. So please be careful with your phrasing. Or find a way to say it privately.

Related: seriously, don't read several thousand (literally hundreds of thousands) of words by someone, seemingly enjoy them ... but have your first ever comment on their works be words of criticism - even if they're sandwiched in (half-assed) compliments. This might be the fucked up brain talking, but for me? I'd rather you have not complimented me at all because it feels like you're only doing it because you want your criticisms to go down easier. If you'd been commenting all along, I'd probably take your shit less hard and actually constructively like you were hoping. (I will also admit that they probably would have gone better had I already not been in such a shitty fucking place regarding the story in general.)

The above two things were basically why I felt like I had to justify every single fucking thing I did in ttios: fate's remix by the end ... and as a writer, I don't believe I should have to justify every single fucking word I write. If the story isn't what you want it to be, CLICK THE FUCK OUT OF IT. And do it quietly. I do it all the time. Unless it's specifically requested, I'm not going to tell someone why I'm not reading their work anymore. Not everyone is going to like everything. I understand that. But it's something I fucking know - you don't need to tell me that you think it's shitty and that I'm disappointing you.

(do you email/comment on actual author's posts similar things when you don't like their books? or the book doesn't go as planned? if so, never read anything where the author has already died because they'll never get to read your opinion.)

IN ANY CASE ...

Maybe (hopefully) you'll see me soon. Maybe you won't.

But thank you for a hell of a year.

[fafodill]

Really bummed out today because I got some tests results back for adhd and the spectrum and both came negative(ish)?

To pass the adhd test I needed to have symptoms during childhood and my mother confirmed none and I don't know if she didn't see anything or if I was super focused in class because I had nothing else to do since I had no friends and I was harassed? Most of my symptoms I noticed during adulthood tbf but I honestly don't remember much from my childhood.

And for the spectrum I needed to score at least a 5 on her test and got 4 which... almost?? (and she did write in her report that I may have been masking some stuff) but it wasn't enough. And I was like 'but I vibe way more with neurodivergent people and people on the spectrum?' and she said it may be because I got a traumatic early life around social development which also often happens to people on the spectrum and this is why we find common ground?

But I do stim a lot. And do have very powerful special interest and some sensory issues.

I dunno she said it's fine to keep digging with a psychiatrist. And people told me women my age tend to be misdiagnosed but fuck this is exactly what I feared and now it feels like insisting would just make me a huge pick me looking for excuses. I dunno. I need to digest this.

[harocat]

Shoutout to Cdramas* written by women, we love you Cdramas written by women.

*And one Taiwanese drama.

What are your faves that aren't on here? Let me know so I can watch them. 👀

[areyoudoingthis]

I am SO grateful that ed and stede exist as characters exactly as they are. I'm so grateful for these two men who are traumatized and messed up and struggle to even like themselves, who are terrible at communicating, who make enough mistakes between the two of them to fill an entire ocean. I am so grateful to watch them struggle and be seen and be loved and reach out for the things they want and are maybe starting to believe that they deserve. I'm so grateful that the show lets them fall in love and get together exactly as they are, that it doesn't say they need to wait until they've become some unattainably perfect version of themselves before they have permission to have that. i am so grateful for ofmd

[themeraldee]

you know how antony starr has that sorta dip in the middle of his forehead? homie's s/o kissing him there and telling him it was "made for me to kiss". since he was literally manufactured in a lab to fit a certain "perfect" ideal, i'm a bit obsessed with an s/o making a positive fuss of his physical "imperfections" (not that i really like that phrase but you know what i mean).

this is such an incredible idea!!!!!!!!! I'm obsessed with it. You know what, I'm stealing it and including it in my WIP about body worship. sorry not sorry 😂 (as a payment it'll be dedicated to you)

I am also obsessed with the idea of his manufactured self having "imperfections" (through the corporate media lens at least) that he's struggling to accept. Why does he wear the suit all the time kinda thing you know? Sure it's his identity and it's all he sees himself as but if his body matched exactly what everyone expects him to be he wouldn't be hiding it behind the costume all the time. You know he'd be doing shirtless photoshoot for Men's Health or whatever. (Instead in the show he's fully clothed for their version, Men's Recreation)

I'd also have self-esteem issues if I was paraded around in a padded suit, printed on a cover next to the words "rock hard abs".

So to finally have someone be happy with the way he looks, cherishing it and worshipping it? Well that must just seem like a cruel fantasy right? Because at most he could imagine someone going "oh it's okay that you're not as muscular, nobody is!" but to have an SO who goes "I love you because of the way you are, not in spite of it." would blow his mind.

So yeah all his "imperfections" are getting extra kisses and love.

[anomalyaly]

[airenyah]

i need to talk about this line here for a second, because it's an attack on me personally. but not the english translation of it, no, it's the og thai line that really gets to me. because he says:

มันโอเค​นะเว้ย ที่จะมีความรักอ่ะ [man - oh-keh - ná wóiie • thêe - jà - mee kwaam rák - àh] it - okay - [particle] • that - will - be in love - [particle]

he specifically uses the term มีความรัก which is more like "to be in love". which means rather than "it's okay to love", this line is more accurately translated as:

It's okay to be in love.

and as someone who really really really struggles with self-acceptance for my own romantic feelings for others, this distinction is really important to me. i can deal with loving others. i love my family. i love my best friend (you really don't go here but hiiii @magsimags i love youuuu 😘 (i know you're rolling your eyes reading this as usual)(i don't care)(i love you)). i love my other close friend. i love my summer camp gang. i love my friend that style reminds me of. i love each and every single one of the friends i've made in this fandom over the past few years (you know who you are 💖). i KNOW it's okay to love. i do it all the time. loudly. as evidenced by the fact that i just HAD to tag my best friend in this post to publically tell her i love her even though she really doesn't care about my thai blorbos, just because i really couldn't NOT tag her to tell her i love her. anyway. i can love. loving is fine.

but to be in love??? that's a whole different story. having (in my case romantic) feelings for someone feels like a heavy burden. it feels humiliating. i hate it. i don't want it. it stresses me out. and the person i have feelings for especially can't ever know about it. see, i will talk about my crushes/romantic feelings, but mostly to family and friends (the better they know the person i have feelings for, the harder it gets for me to admit to it), and even then the word "be in love" won't ever come out of my mouth in my native language. in english it's easier, but in my native language i just can't say it. it feels heavy. it makes me cringe. being in love is horrible.

so when style said "it's okay to be in love" specifically? that was a punch to my gut. because this is a truth i have not yet managed to accept for myself. and if the person i had feelings for specifically told me "it's okay to be in love" so firmly and so earnestly? yeah, i would crumble too

[ryllen]

Was giving these analysis a read [ x , x , x , x ]

[nessacousland]

Well, I finally finished Dragon Age: Friendship is Magic and that is *my* biggest regret.

[seo-changbinnies]

countdown to lixie’s bday

↳ d-2: felix x dragon age

[damn-this-transgirl-hella-gay]

Tumblr Story Time - Safe now: Story by @the-modern-typewriter prompt by unknown

[monocaelia]

bewitched.

he bewitched you, every damn second he's with you. aka; you're his makeup artist for the reveal of his newest painting. feat. rafayel & gn!reader w.c. : 2k note : if u see me being manipulated by a tall purple haired fishie DO NOT HELP ME. i'm exactly where i wanna be.

the ocean brushes against the sandy shores as the sun shines brightly in the sky, a calming sound amongst the chatter of seagulls finding their food and the distant chitter of dolphins skimming through the shallow waters. it's a beautiful day and any normal person would be blessed to have access to the private beach belonging to certain eccentric artist, but, unfortunately, that isn't you.

the small grains of sand crunch underneath your shoes as your gaze falls upon the white building in front of you. it's luxurious and spacious, fitting for the renowned artist that owns this place. the gate leading into private property gets closer the further you traverse down the paved path and your mind steels itself for the dramatics that were about to ensue once you step into rafayel's home.

not to say that he's a troublesome client. he pays you quite well despite the small time you have to prepare him for his events. it's just... well. rafayel can be a character of his own. there have been many times where he has tried to convince you to let him stay in rather than make him attend his events or even nearly persuaded you to attend prestigious banquets as his plus one. it's kind of terrifying just how easy anyone could be swayed once rafayel begins to use his pretty face to his advantage.

those beautiful, bright yet deep sapphire eyes melting into a warm hue of a pink reminiscent of the setting sun amidst the ocean's horizon looking up at you and plush, rosy lips pulled out into a pout. astra forbid rafayel decides to add in the head tilt or that specific whiny voice to really rack up some extra pity points that he knows will work on you.

but you've got every excuse in the world to fight against his persuasion this time and thomas on your side. hopefully.

with a deep breath, your hand pushes against the unlocked metal gate leading to the front of his house and head inside.

"rafayel?" your voice echoes into the elegant home, bouncing off the tall walls with windows stretching from the floor to the ceiling. a few window panes are left open and allow the salty sea breeze to waft into the home, curtains swaying with each gust of wind.

no response.

with a deep sigh, you venture further into the artist's home. with how often you come here to work with the purple haired artist, moving around this extravagant ocean front home is like muscle memory to you with occasional paintbrush shaped death traps littered on the floor from time to time.

your ears perk up at a dramatic sigh from behind the studio doors and you immediately head towards it.

as the doors swing open, your eyes snap to the orange couch beside one of the walls of the studio where one dramatic artist lay with one sleeved arm resting over his eyes. before you could even greet him , rafayel is already one step ahead of you.

"you're late, you know. and since i won't be able to make it to the showcase in time, i guess i'll just have to tell thomas to cancel it," rafayel speaks up as soon as you walk up to him. he pulls his arm away from his eyes and, although you've seen them many times, you're taken aback by how beautiful they are up close.

a shade of blue so unique settling into a sea of pink that naturally lures you in closer to view the colors better; you wonder if rafayel's eyes are the reason why he became an artist in the first place with how bewitching and distinctive they are.

"in your dreams, rafayel," you retort back. as the artist below you reaches his arm up into the air, you take it as your sign to pull him up. soft, purple strands of hair fall in front of rafayel's fair face. they frame it perfectly as if showcasing the natural beauty of the man before you. "besides, i made a promise to thomas to make sure you're ready by the time he gets here."

"thomas this, thomas that. what about what i want?" rafayel whines, tilting his head as you pin back parts of his fringe to allow his milky skin to be revealed to you. your fingers brush against his soft skin to push any remaining strands of hair left and you don't miss how rafayel subconsciously leans into your touch.

he opens his mouth again, another protest on the tip of his tongue, but a compress is pressed onto his lips as you begin to prepare his face.

“will you let me do your makeup one day?” rafayel’s voice is barely above a whisper as your skilled fingers gently blend the blush onto his cheeks. you’re ignoring his gaze, too focused on making sure he looks flawless in front of you. but you don’t need to look at him anyways to know that he’s staring at you with that look you’re too familiar with; wide, ocean blue and pink eyes and brows furrowed up in the way he knows you would have trouble denying. “since you have everything here, why don’t i do your makeup for you after you do mine?”

you roll your eyes, gently pushing rafayel’s forehead down with the other end of your makeup brush.

“then we’ll be finished by the time your exhibition is scheduled to be finished and thomas will kill both you and me if you’re not ready in time,” you tell the artist. he huffs in his seat and you laugh quietly at his antics before continuing your job. as your the soft bristles of your brush touch rafayel’s skin, he opens his lips again to speak once more.

“such a shame,” rafayel begins, eyes following your small movements as you switch brushes. “you’re torturing me by not letting me play with your pretty face, you know.”

your lips fall agape as his words settle into your ears and you snap your face down to send the artist the most vile glare you could muster. of course, that only makes him chuckle as you've fallen for his tricks to mess with you.

"what, fishie caught your tongue?" rafayel says with a playful tone and a cheeky smile. with an exasperated sigh, your fingers pinch his nose, earning a yelp from the purple haired man.

"what this fishie is about to get is a knuckle sandwich and a mustache drawn on him for his exhibition if he keeps bothering me," you respond to him with an eyeliner pencil in hand just to really play that threat. rafayel's hands come palms up in defeat as you near him with the inked pen, apologies running off the tip of his tongue.

"i'm being truthful though. would i ever be one to lie to you?" rafayel asks you when you place the dreaded eyeliner back into your bag. "actually, don't answer that question."

despite the few quips here and the short bursts of banter there, the artist remained mostly still for you to do your job with ease for the rest of your time with him. rafayel is obedient as you tilt his face here and there, a quiet order for him to look a certain way as you pat on some powder underneath his eyes or touch up the mascara carefully applied to his long lashes.

your fingers gently lift his face up by the chin. with a few strokes of the perfect shade of a warm peach to his lips, your thumb reaches up to swipe away at the edges of rafayel's lips. velvety and plush; for some reason your eyebrow twitches at just how perfect this man can be.

lost in your mental curses to the purple haired artist in front of you, you nearly miss the way he’s calling out to you. your name is a whisper on those rosy lips of his and you’re brought back to reality. your eyes snap down to meet rafayel’s and the ocean in his eyes has nearly consumed you. azure-rose hues steal a glance down at your own lips and the proximity between you two only makes your situation worse.

"you know, usually when someone touches another's lips so diligently there's usually a hidden behind it," rafayel murmurs, his bottom lip brushing against your thumb with each word.

you can’t ignore rafayel’s prying eyes now that he’s so close. every minuscule movement and change of your expression is laid bare for rafayel to see; you've stepped too deep into the enticing waves of the ocean and now you're trapped within the sea's grasp.

you want to pull away, truthfully you do. but your body refuses to move even an inch as if listening to another voice had lulled it into its own will outside of your own.

“come with me to the exhibition,” rafayel says to you. unlike the usual teasing or whining tone he has with you, his voice has dropped a couple half-steps in his sincerity. you assume he’s joking, heart steeling for the laughter to come shortly or the roll of his eyes when he sees your eyes analyzing the truth in his words. but the smooth hands of the artist before you find their way up to slide up your wrists and encase yours all while never avoiding eye contact with you. he presses your hands into the side of his face and his lips that you were carefully fixing earlier press into the palm of your hand.

“i’ll have more fun with you by my side, and everything is more interesting when i’m with you,” rafayel confesses to you and your heart lurches in your chest. “you don’t have to placate anyone at the event… we’ll keep each other company until it’s time to go. then we can do whatever we want, i promise it’ll be fun. everything is fun with me.”

that… you couldn’t deny. despite exhibitions being filled with the rich and critics ready to ogle at whatever rafayel had in store for them at every art exhibition he prepares, a moment with rafayel is never a dull moment. even when doing your simple job here, he’s always making you roll your eyes in his attempts to rile you up or avoid going to the said events in the first place.

“i don't have the right clothes for one of your exhibitions, rafayel." your words slip through your lips before you could even think and rafayel's eyes light up. as you begin to pull away to try and clear up what you said, it's already too late.

"so if you had an outfit and the time, you would go with me?" rafayel asks eagerly. his hands pull you back closer to him and it's getting increasingly more difficult to say no when he looks so excited at the idea of you coming along with him. "it's not like it's entirely selfish. what if my makeup is ruined in the middle of an event? i can't look messy in front of the people, so you truly have to come with me the next time we have an event. i'll have a designer specifically tailor something to your measurements, cutie."

all you can do is stand there, eyes as wide as your lips are agape as rafayel nearly beams at you. just as a concept of a thought begins to form in your head, rafayel's phone goes off, a signal that thomas has arrived at his studio to pick him up.

you can only blink as rafayel stands up from his seat, pulling you into him with a charming smile just as dazzling as the sea shimmering outside his studio windows.

"call it a date, cutie. don't forget what you've promised me, alright?"

your mind is a whirlwind as rafayel sends a wink in your direction, leaving you alone in his studio as you begin to collect your thoughts and process the manipulation of the renowned artist rafayel.

oh, he got you this time and there's no telling how and when he'll bewitch you next time.