#in fact that's the whole reason I created this blog

[disabledunitypunk]

I wanna talk about a real problem in marginalized communities, but especially the disabled community.

The conflation of "privilege" with "oppression".

Here's two examples that I'm directly pulling from experience.

I am not intellectually disabled. I have fluctuating cognitive disabilities, but I have privilege over people with intellectual disabilities.

I also have significantly disabling chronic illness to the point where at times I have not been able to engage with hobbies due to being too sick. Disabled people who are less sick and more able to pursue activities they enjoy have privilege over me.

It's something that's not neat and simple, either. An intellectually disabled person who is able to engage with hobbies vs me? We would essentially both have privilege over each other on different axes. You can't then determine that one of us is ultimately generally more privileged than the other, because that's not how it works. Like if you have privilege x and they have privilege y, it isn't x-y=positive or negative privilege. You can't "solve" that equation because x and y aren't variables that can be substituted for number values.

So, first taking the example of hobbies - a recent controversial post we made that invited harassment. People were quick to tell us what our own experience was and that we weren't experiencing ableism - because they had had the privilege of never experiencing it. That was lateral ableism, and not okay.

Note: There may be people who DIDN'T have that privilege who were also saying the same - though everyone I saw talking about this specifically mentioned their ability to do hobbies, and that was who the main part of my response was directed at. However, I even specifically responded briefly to any people who were doing that - much more gently - to basically say that if they were being assimilationist out of fear that they didn't have to be, and to remind them that they aren't bad if they can't have hobbies.

On the other hand, way back when I first started this blog, I talked about reclaiming the r slur as someone who had significant trauma from being called it as a kid. I talked about how the reason I was called it was specifically because of my social issues due to my developmental disorders while being a gifted kid.

To make it clear - I was called the r slur for not understanding social cues and rules as a "smart" kid, because that's one of the things it meant to them. They weren't insulting my intellectual intelligence, but rather my social ability - at most, you could argue they were insulting my social intelligence - which having a low amount of WAS actually a feature of my disabilities.

I also spoke about how I wasn't reclaiming it to continue treating it as a bad thing, to insult even just myself, but rather to say "so what if I am? that's not bad". Y'know, the whole point of reclaiming.

I was told what my own experience was and that I was experiencing misdirected ableism because they were actually insulting traits I didn't have and therefore they were actually hurting intellectually disabled people but not me. Not because they had the privilege not to experience what I did - but because me having privilege was treated as the right to tell me I had never experienced the ableism they had.

They were treated not just as the experts on ableism against intellectual disabilities - which they are, of course - but also the experts on ableism against people who specifically DON'T have intellectual disabilities when it takes the same or similar forms as ableism against intellectual disabilities.

We all know that bigots don't wait to find out your correct identity before attacking you. We all know that there are identities commonly mistaken for others, that can set you up for repeated abuse over an identity you don't have. But what we refuse to acknowledge is that there are types of bigotry that can manifest identically in some ways for two different identities - and that anyone who experiences that bigotry is an expert on it and deserves to have a place in the conversation about it.

Someone with intellectual disabilities fundamentally cannot know that people without intellectual disabilities DON'T face the same kind of ableism on the basis of other disabilities that person DOES have because they have not ever lived that experience, just as, say, I couldn't say that an intellectually disabled person never faces specific kinds of ableism I face due to being a wheelchair user, because I am not intellectually disabled.

What I can say: "I face these types of ableism because of these disabilities and this is how they manifest."

What I can't say, because it is erasure and lateral ableism no matter my relative privilege: "You don't face this type of ableism for [disability I don't have] because it's exclusive to [disability I have] and any ableism that manifests that way is actually an attack on me."

Fundamentally, you cannot say that someone with a different disability DOESN'T face a specific type of ableism because you are not an authority on the experience of that disability. You are an expert on the experience of your disability. You cannot claim exclusive experiences because to do so, you would have to experience the disabilities you don't have while also not experiencing the ones you do. You would have to verify experiences that you simply don't have - in multiple places and contexts and presentations and as multiple people.

Oh wait, there's a simpler way to do that.

Listen to people about their experiences of their own disabilities and the ableism they face for it.

(Plaintext: Listen to people about their experiences of their own disabilities and the ableism they face for it.)

It's not ableist to say "no, you aren't the only disability that faces this ableism" or "no, it isn't targeted at you when it's aimed at me" or "actually, bigots also use [slur] to mean [definition specifically attacking my disability]". It is however ableist to tell people that because they have an axis of privilege over you, they can't talk about their own oppression on an entirely different axis because you've decided that experiencing similar oppression means you're the only person who experiences said oppression.

Or to put it more simply: Experiencing a type of ableism does NOT give you the right to speak over others when they say they experience it too for different reasons. Having something bad happen to you as a group does not give you proof that you're the ONLY group it happens to.

"X is caused by y, therefore x is ONLY caused by y" is quite literally a logical fallacy. It's called fallacy of the single cause (at least it's a nice obvious name, honestly).

This is the same discourse as cripplepunk. In fact, it's the primary motivator behind most slur discourse, and the reason why I'd honestly rather have blanket permission issued within oppressed groups I'm in* for everyone to reclaim in good faith** any slur that affects that group.

**What does "reclaim in good faith" mean? It means reclaiming only for self-usage, and only for self-usage specifically in a positive way - so no "ugh, I'm such a useless cripple", for example. True reclamation does require use of it against you/your disability in the first place, however, part of not being a cop about it is assuming that anyone who uses it in a positive sense for self-labeling has in fact experienced that. In short, it involves believing people about the oppression they explicitly say or imply through their reclamation that they've experienced.

*Note: I am specifically NOT a person of color or a member of an oppressed ethnoreligion/ethnicity, and recognize that dynamics of racial and ethnic oppression may be unique in some ways. However in disabled, queer, plural, alterhuman, and other marginalized spaces I do occupy, these are my feelings.

It is lateral ableism to tell another disabled person that they haven't experienced a type of ableism or didn't experience it due to their ACTUAL disability and therefore have no right to reclaim what was used to hurt them.

It is ableism to say "the bullet meant to shoot you, that hit you, was designed in part to hurt me, and therefore any time someone is shot with it, it was actually an attack on me. Hand over the bullet and never keep it or use it as you please again or you're basically shooting me with a different bullet." (For those that struggle with metaphors, the bullets are ableism.)

It's ducks saying that deer have no right to reclaim shotgun shells. Yes, slugs are more common than buckshot, but there's literally a type of the same exact kind of ammo designed for use on the deer too. In just the same way, some slurs and other forms of ableism are more typically used against one group but even have a (sometimes identical) variant specifically designed for use against other groups. "Mental cripple" and "retard" for sociodevelopmental disabilities are prime examples of this.

This is a wider problem in marginalized communities. "If you have any privilege at all, ever, you need to sit down and shut up about your own experiences. Only our least privileged members are the experts on any of our experiences. They make the rules about which of your own experiences you're allowed to talk about and what you're allowed to say about them." What's important to note, is that this is coming as much from the members with said privilege as the ones without.

And yes, this is an EXTREMELY insular community issue, but it's not mutually exclusive to the fact that large portions of the community DON'T listen to the less privileged ones about their own experiences! Just like the hobbies example (which, I know people may dismiss or cry 'false equivalence', but I want to again note that it primarily affects bedbound people who are too sick to do things they enjoy, and therefore less privileged by any metric).

I specifically referenced that example because it's exactly more privileged members speaking over less privileged members about the less privileged members' OWN experiences.

In fact, I'd say it's in fact a RESPONSE to that kind of being spoken over. It's an extreme pendulum swing in the other direction - "you need to shut up and LISTEN to us about our experiences". Which, if it stopped there, would be perfect! It's the part that follows it - "therefore, if we experience something, we're the ONLY people who are allowed to talk about it and the only people who even experience it".

I've seen time and time again, too, that even if you conclusively prove you experience something, the goalposts just get moved.

"Well, you experience it but not systemically."

"Okay, but you experienced it less."

"It didn't hurt you as much because it was meant to hurt me instead."

"Well, you're probably reclaiming it as an insult." (despite no proof of such, or even proof to the contrary)

"Well, if you experienced it systemically and it did hurt you and you experienced it just as much, it's actually because of [other identity that we begrudgingly acknowledge is affected] and not [identity that you say actually caused you to experience it] and it therefore isn't even [same type of bigotry] but [completely different type] instead."

"Well, even if you experienced it systemically as much as I did, it still hurts me more because it's about my identity and not yours, even though you were the one literally being attacked with it."

And if all that fails it's "no, that's not why you experienced it" or "no, you didn't experience that".

All examples I touched on earlier in this post, but still important to talk about specifically.

The person being hurt by a type of ableism, including slurs, is the person who they are being used against, period. It doesn't matter if they have "the right" disability. It doesn't matter what group the slurs or ableism is primarily used against. The bigots are TRYING to hurt the person they are specifically using the bigotry against, and that person is the one who ends up hurt by it. Full stop, no argument.

And if someone is hurt by a word, especially repeatedly, they have a right to reclaim it. Period.

At the end of the day, does this matter all that much? It's just community microaggressions, right?

Here's my feelings on it: I'm never going to let petty infighting get in the way of fighting for total disabled liberation. Just because some individuals are guilty of lateral ableism doesn't mean I won't fight for a world in which they face no ableism. It would be ableist of me to leave them behind over something like this. Not to mention, there's no need for anyone to be considered an authority on ableism in a world where there is none.

That being said, it is still a minor hurdle on the way to disabled liberation. If we police our own community and shut down discussions of ableism, how can we effectively fight for our right to not be policed or shut down by abled people? We're demonstrating that it's acceptable behavior.

You can argue all you want that abled people should recognize that it's different and they don't have a voice in the conversation - but what about those who are explicitly telling abled people that it's okay to shut down THESE disabled people talking about THEIR experiences because they're privileged invaders in the conversation and abled people should use their privilege over us to act as an even higher authority and stop us?

What about the conflicting messages of "abled people use your power over these disabled people to force them not to talk about the ableism they experience, but not these OTHER disabled people doing the same thing".

It's one thing to make a blanket statement to say "hey, if someone is actually attacking the validity of a disabled (or any marginalized) identity or talking over them about their own experiences, then shut that down". Saying a given marginalized identity doesn't exist or is inherently harmful is always bad. Talking over someone on their OWN experiences, when they are simply talking about things they've directly experienced, is always bad. I don't think it's the end of the world to say "use your privilege to shut down ableism" to abled people.

The problem is telling abled people that someone TALKING about their own legitimate experiences is bad and it's okay to shut it down. Abled people should not ever be given permission to do so - whether using their own judgment or just doing so on the word of disabled people.

Even besides that, though, it's still ableism, and lateral ableism is also a barrier in the way of total disabled liberation. It is an active threat to unity, to our ability to organize and demand change. We can fight to remove it from our communities while still focusing our energy primarily outward on fighting for liberation within the larger abled world.

Finally, it's an issue because it creates more hierarchies to solve existing ones. It says "instead of addressing the actual ableism, we're just going to flip it so you're the one experiencing it instead". It's like the so-called "feminists" that just want a matriarchy. It's not about creating a safer environment, it's about being the one to perpetrate the harm currently being done to you.

So, in cases where neither group has any real systemic power over each other, it doesn't even do that - it simply creates an environment where the original harm continues to be perpetuated while another new harm occurs. It devolves into a petty slap fight, distracting from actual liberation while also causing both parties to be hurt. That's not acceptable praxis. It's not praxis at all.

Even with the harm being small in scale, it's still not okay. Two injustices don't make a justice, just as two wrongs don't make a right.

This is very much something we need to address - in disabled spaces being my focus here - but also in queer, plural, alterhuman, and other marginalized spaces. And all of stems from the idea that "privilege" is the same as having the power to oppress someone. It's the idea that if you have an axis of privilege over another person with the same overall marginalized identity as you, that you are equivalent to being nonmarginalized compared to them and therefore disagreeing with them in any way about your OWN marginalized experiences is bigotry.

Functionally, it's that you're a bigoted privileged invader of marginalized spaces if you dare to have an opinion on a shared type of oppression. And speaking as a transfemmasc person, mayyyyyybe we should actually kill that rhetoric forever.

[zedif-y]

fuck it . reblog this and put in the tags who your favorite youtuber/streamer is and why . i'll start (you can give more than one)

feel free to ramble!! i'm curious!

[fairuzfan]

This post is for the anon who sent me that video asking me to debunk it's claims so they can be better equipped against accusations of antisemitism.

Sorry, I won't post the video since I refuse to have that man on my blog but I can give you common Zionist talking points and the illogicality behind it.

To preface: most of the questions Zionists will ask you are a trap, and will make you fall into a "rabbit hole" (as I was once told when I was younger), as we try to apply their reasoning. My advice is to ALWAYS center the humanity of Palestinians. For example, when a Zionist says:

"Don't Jews deserve a homeland to be safe?"

It fundamentally ignores the core issue: Palestinians are being raped, murdered, and expelled from their homes so that the establishment of this so called "homeland" may exist. When people ask this to you, I personally advise saying something like:

Why must Palestinians suffer for the establishment of this homeland?

Always recenter to the issue at hand—the inhumane removal and treatment of Palestinians.

"Palestine belongs to the Jews and Not Muslims"

The whole premise of this claim is flawed—there is a weird tendency to equate Arab/Palestinian=Muslim when it just is like. Completely untrue. There are Palestinian Christians, Bethlehem is famously a Christian city, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Jews, who have been there for centuries. There are Palestinian Muslims, who have been there for centuries. My grandpa told me stories of how he would turn on lamps for his Jewish neighbors in Al-Khalil (or Hebron) during Shabbat.

To claim that Palestine is EITHER Islamic or Jewish doesn't make any sense and completely neglects the fact that dissemination of culture has occurred for centuries, as well as the intermingling of people throughout generations. To somehow assert that for some reason, Jews and Muslims did not have ANYTHING to do with each other—did not create together, did not build families together, did not build culture together, all while being PALESTINIAN—is incredibly racist and nonsensical. "Palestinian" is not a religious identity—it's a cultural and ethnic one.

Also, it does not negate the core issue—Palestinians are being killed, removed, and tortured so that others can live on that land.

"Well what about [something about partitioning land]?"

Honestly like, who cares about the partitioning throughout the 1900 and early 2000s. Sorry, I'm not going to list the whole "partitioning" history nonsense. The whole reason "Israel" exists is because of a Mass Exodus, murder, and rape of Palestinians. Everything after that is rendered obsolete.

"Well, I heard Palestinians allied with Hitler"

I don't know how to tell you this but Palestine was under British Control. No they didn't.

"Israel withdrew from the Gaza and left them to themselves and they put Hammas in charge"

Oh yeah, Israel totally left Gaza, that's why Gazans' water, electricity, internet, and food is completely controlled by Israel (this is sarcasm, Israel still controls basic life in Gaza).

Go back to centering the idea that no human deserves to be shoved into an open-air prison, starved, and controlled. Did you know that the Zionist Entity controls the amount of water Gazans receive, as well as counting their calories to ensure they don't have enough energy on a day to day basis?

"I heard Israel asked Arabs to stay"

Show them these papers and videos when they say this:

If you can't show them these videos, check in the next point what to say.

"Well the Palestinians left of their own will in 1948"

Palestinians in 1948 didn't "leave." They had heard of how the Zionist Entity was slaughtering Palestinians en masse. Women especially heard stories of rape and sexual violence. They fled from *violence*. Again, from an earlier post, that this was a calculated effort on the Zionist Entity's part to try and get them to "leave" on their own and "abandon" their houses so that they can come in and say "hey, they left on their own so, we can come in and take their houses now."

Anyways, the idea that once you leave your house you can't ever come back to it is incredibly odd to me as an argument on Zionists' part. Like if you leave your house right now to go to the grocery store and you come back and see someone in your house and they're like "sorry dude, this is my house now, you left so that means you can't come back," you'd be like, "what the hell!" It would be even weirder if everyone agreed with the guy who took your house, which is what happened to Palestinians.

In Al-Khalil, or Hebron, Palestinians always have to have someone stay in their house or else a Settler will come in and take it from them. So it still goes on today as well.

This is not a point, but when that one person in the video said "Arabs lived under Israeli rule" and showed a clip of a bustling city with mountains, I'm pretty sure that was Amman, Jordan, not Palestine lol. Those buildings in the mountains look like how downtown Amman builds the residential areas. Could be wrong tho.

"There are no Jews living under Palestinian rule in Palestine"

What is this, some sort of gotcha argument? What are they trying to prove, the racist (obviously false) notion that Palestinians hate Jews as a whole? How do they know no Palestinian Jew lives in Gaza? Also, Settlers in Palestinian Territory exist??? I had never heard this claim before, its incredibly stupid lol. You're automatically a citizen of "Israel" if you're Jewish, whether or not you live in or outside of Palestinian Territories. So of course technically they don't live under Palestinian rule, they're granted full rights as an "Israeli" citizen automatically!

Go back to talking about the inhumane treatment of Palestinians, I wouldn't bring up the above counterpoint unless they really won't let it go since the main point is mistreatment.

"Why are Christians supporting Israel then, if it's a secular issue rather than a religious one?"

Well actually for a couple reasons:

Oil interests and regional control of goods (White People Supporting White People).

Weird fundamentalist ideology where they want to enact the second coming of Christ.

And finally because they are racist and don't think Arab Christians deserve to live. They literally bombed a 1500+ year church the other day. Why would (White) Christians cosign that.

Anyways, its a stupid argument again, because it forgets the core issue of Palestinians dying and being displaced.

In summary, always go back to the point of centering the Palestinians being displaced, tortured, and murdered, no matter the argument a Zionist gives you.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Hihi! I went on anon cause my main blog is strictly sfw, but I promise I'm an adult(29). Anyways, I had this idea of Ascended Astarion teasing Tav/Reader in front of a mirror. He can't see himself, but loves the way Tav/Reader shudders under his touch and them getting more and more embarrassed because all they can see is themselves getting riled up by seemingly nothing, but when they look down, ofc they see his hands working magic across their body.

Lol ty for the clarification and ask! I've been needing some nsfw practice!

Ascended Astarion nsfw under the cut, 18 + warnings. Like this is not implied smut. It is smut, graphic. Possessive, obsessive, manipulative, bad vampire man who loves you. As much as he's capable of. Morally gray human Tav from the start to here. It's only downhill from here baby, m/f angle. But if that doesnt fufill the dream let me know and I can make a gender neutral/ gender nonspecfic no prob! And probably less intense too because this is angsty~~~

Like I went ham, this is a whole ass fic now💀

You frowned at yourself in the bedroom mirror, adjusting your hair for the umpteenth time. It still didn't look right, despite what felt like hours of practice that you'd put into the intricate style.

You sighed as let one of your braids fall down, dissatisfied with what you saw. You didn't exactly look the part of an all-powerful vampire's consort, or at least not with the company you've recently been keeping. But it turned out a significant part of taking over Baldur's Gate was trenched in politics, meetings, balls, social events created for the sole purpose of mind games.

It was exhausting, or at least it was for you. But Astarion seemed to take to it like a duck to water. This life suited him, one of power games and subterfuge, and more often than not, murder. Not that you minded. You were just happy that he was having fun. That he was finally free after all of those years of torment. Even if he was using that freedom for… less than savory ends.

But despite his goals, you had sworn to him that you would never stray. And you intended on making good on that promise.

You just wished that he didn't insist on you being there for all of his "business". You hadn't realized how literal he had been about the whole sitting in his lap plan. It had taken a half-hour conversation to even convince him that no, you would not be doing so in the nude. He still hadn't given up on convincing you off that plan, but you highly doubted that it would help with your current level of heightened insecurity.

Maybe you were worrying for no reason. It wasn't Astarion who made you feel out of place. Well… it was, but not because of anything he did. Just… who he had become. He was so different now, so much colder to everything and everyone but you. More calculating, less forgiving, and just perfect for working with the most dangerous individuals in the mortal plane.

You seemed to be the only living thing he could relax around anymore, the only person who could soften him. It was strange really. You used to remember his softer side, before the ritual. The way his heart would hurt for children and animals alike, despite his failed attempts to hide it. His soft spot for Karlach, those who were brave and brazen, always willing to do the right thing despite the risks. The kind smile he used to have, reserved for beautiful things like the sunrise, the sunset.

Gone, all of it. It was a fact that you didn't like to think about. What you both gave up, things could have been; there was no point to it anyway. It was over. You gave Astarion the choice, this is what came of that. So here you were, obsessing over your appearance in preparation for a meeting with a high-ranking devil.

How things had changed.

You had no idea if you would ever find a way to match up with the company he kept around these days. Maybe it was your own fault for surrounding yourself with otherworldly creatures, but it was hard not to feel inadequate.

It didn't help that whenever you even slightly alluded to that insecurity, Astarion was more than ready to remind you of your… "options".

"You can join us whenever you'd like my treasure," Astarion would say with a creeping grin, "Just one bite, and we can be sure you'll be mine forever. Would that be so bad?"

It was a tempting offer, one that you kept insisting on refusing. You loved Astarion more than anything. But… you wanted that love to stay your choice. An obligation you maintained of your own free will. It's not that you didn't trust him… but to be a spawn had too many implications for you to handle.

"What has you pouting sweet thing?"

You startled when hands suddenly settled on your hip, gripping through the thin fabric of your nightdress. You looked back, relaxing the slightest bit to see Astarion smiling down at you, amused at the fact he'd managed to sneak up on you through the mirror.

"You said you weren't going to do that anymore," You whined as you leaned back into him, your eyes turning back to the mirror. You could see the fabric of your slip indented under his hands, ghost-like without his actual image reflecting back.

"I lied," Astarion said simply, leaning down to breathe you in from the crook of your neck, "Now what are you thinking about pet? I can tell something's on your mind."

You bit your lip, debating for a moment if you should tell him or not. But it's not like he would let it drop, and he was way too good at being able to tell when you were lying. Might as well come clean.

You sighed, "I don't…I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

You expected him to huff at you, maybe even laugh. But instead, the grip he had on you tightened, hard enough to make you gasp. You could feel his fangs scraping against your delicate skin, scratching hard enough to cause pinpricks of blood to bead out.

"And why would you ever think a thing like that?" Astarion asked, his voice harsh and low, "Where else would you be if not by my side hm? Please, enlighten me."

You gulped, your heart rate starting to pick up. You hadn't meant it like that, "That's not what I meant-"

"Then what else could it have meant?" Astarion shot back, his hands digging into you, surely ready to leave finger-shaped bruises. Suddenly he was using that same grip to drag you backward to the bed, effortlessly settling you between his spread legs.

All while managing to still be right in sight of the mirror. You could feel your cheeks redden as his hands started to wander, unceremoniously tugging down the straps of your nightdress to reveal your chest. That was another thing about life after the ritual that had been a surprise, just how different Astarion's sex drive was. It's not like he was a prude before, far from it, but now he was insatiable. Always ready and willing to touch you whenever the urge struck him. Often enough for you to eventually come to the thrilling, if not slightly disturbed realization, that… he was training you. Training your body to always want his touch.

And tonight was no different. You could already feel yourself getting wet, and he had barely done anything yet. But then suddenly he was pinching your nipple harshly, hissing in your ear, "I expect an answer when I ask you a question darling."

You bit back a moan, trying to remember what you were even arguing about as he started to play with your breasts, "I-I didn't mean it like that. I just… I don't want to embarrass you."

It was humiliating to admit but it was true. Not many people of Astarion's caliber insisted on a singular lover. There were so many people after him now, people with more power, more beauty, and grace. You didn't match up. You couldn't.

"Nonsense," Astarion dismissed, his hands wandering down to tear off more of your clothing, "Look at you. You were made for this life. Made for me. You're gorgeous."

The compliments mixed with the harsh feeling of his hands ripping your nightdress in two was quite the experience. You could feel his own hardness pressing into your backside, twitching as he threw your ruined clothing to the side.

Then he was gripping your chin, forcing your head back up to stare into the mirror in front of you, "I said look."

You obeyed, eyes widening at what you saw. It was so strange to see yourself like this, fully exposed with your legs spread apart, flushed and panting. It nearly gave the illusion that your very image was what was causing the wetness between your legs, instead of the invisible man toying with you.

You swallowed, your throat dry as Astarion's hands wandered lower, a feather-light touch tracing up and down your slit, "You are everything. The sole reason that I'm the man I am today. There is nowhere else you should be than right here."

"But-" You gasped, your words interrupted by a sharp slap to your inner thigh. You could see your skin start to redden in the mirror, a perfect imprint left in it's wake.

"Darling, are you questioning my judgment? What on earth made you think that was a good idea?"

You frantically shook your head, moaning when his fingers delved deeper, playing with your slick folds, "I-I'm not. I didn't- I'm sorry."

You whined as he roughly pinched your clit, his other hand moving upward to do the same to your heaving chest.

He was starting to grind his hardness against you, a tease of more to come as he murmured in your ear, "There's my good girl. Was that so hard?"

You shook your head, gasping as he finally dipped his long fingers into your cunt. You were already so sensitive, humiliatingly close in a matter of minutes.

"So gorgeous," Astarion sighed, staring straight ahead to the sole image of you, whimpering as he finger-fucked your pussy, "So needy. Can you see how wet you are pet?"

You could, you were leaking around his fingers, that needy, intense feeling getting more and more intense by the moment. It was so embarrassing seeing yourself like this, enough so that you snapped your eyes shut.

A bad idea. Astarion tutted at you, landing another sudden and hard slap to your thigh, "None of that. I told you to look. Or else."

You snapped your eyes back open, watching yourself whimper and gasp as you were played with, the harsh movement of his hand jostling your breasts. You weren't going to last much longer, not with the image of you being taken apart, the feeling of him inside you, the mean edge to your love's words.

"You're such a silly little thing, aren't you?" Astarion growled, fucking you harder and faster. You were so close, but you weren't stupid enough to come without permission. Not after what he did the last time, "Doubting me. Do you really think I don't know what's best for you? What's best for us?"

"No," You whimpered, your hips arching backward to rub harder into his erection, "You're right, I-I'm yours. C-Can I come now? Please?"

"Beg me and maybe I'll think about it," Astarion meanly laughed, relishing in the gush of slick his harshness coaxed from between your legs, "Beg and apologize. Apologize for doubting us. For doubting me."

You could barely get the words out through your own gasps, tears prickling in the corner of your eyes, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I didn't mean it!"

"Good girl," Astarion huskily laughed, using a clever thumb to rub over your swollen clit, "Now tell me you love me."

"I love you," You said easily, meaning every word, "I love you more than anything.

"Tell me you'll never leave me. Ever."

There was something else behind that promise. An obvious implication that your fucked-out brain was too distracted to see.

"Never," You promised, reaching back for you him. You curled your fingers into his hair. pulling his head down to press his mouth against your throat. An open invitation, "I'll always be with you."

Astarion groaned against your skin, his fangs so close to piercing, "Precious pet, how could I ever want anything else? Come darling, you've earned it."

Then he was biting you, the brief flash of pain the perfect trigger for you to fall over the edge. You came with an embarrassingly high-pitched whine, slumping back into Astarion as he drank from your throat.

You looked as much of a mess as you felt, the stickiness between your thighs glistening in the light. You watched yourself, whimpering as Astarion slipped his fingers out. Just to tap them against your lips, forcing them into your mouth to suck on.

You moaned around them, light-headed as Astarion popped off of your throat. You sighed as he licked at the wound, enjoying the brief moment of rest. You weren't naive enough to think that you were done yet. Not when Astarion was still hard, his cock pulsing against you.

"See?" Astarion huskily laughed, licking the blood off of his lips while he played with your tongue, "You're perfect. Perfect and mine."

[roseykat]

KINKTOBER DAY 13

TITLE: I can’t see you, but I can hear you:

WARNING: minors DNI with this post or my blog. I create NSFW SKZ related content and I know I won't be able to regulate every single interaction with those posts so please do not engage with my work and page whatsoever.

SUMMARY: an OT8 blurb version of each of the members engaging in phone sex with the reader.

TAGS: phone sex, pre-established relationships, explicit language, dirty talk, use of the name ‘baby girl’.

KINK: phone sex

KINKTOBER23 - MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @mal-lunar-28 @aaasia111 @queenmea604 @luneskies @kibs-and-bits @kbitties @dreamingaboutjisung @fairy-lixie

��🩷🩷

-

BANG CHAN

When it comes to phone sex, Chan is always the teasing type. Using the ‘aw had to ring me because you’re horny?’ Or ‘is my baby girl that needy for me?’ But he will be the last person to ever admit that he himself doesn’t get like that when he’s needy. Chan will text you first to see if you’re up and if you’ve replied, he’s ringing you.

He’ll hit you with the croaky ‘baby, I miss you, I miss you body so much right now.’ And when you get to talking to try and help get him off, hearing his whimpers and moans through the phone is something otherworldly.

“You have no idea how much I need you right now.”

“I think I do if you had to ring me at this time of the night,” you’d say back to him.

“I know but, I was just thinking about you and I couldn’t stop myself. Need to fuck you so bad, need to be inside you and feel how wet you’d be for me.”

-

MINHO

Does not like phone sex for the sole purpose that it does absolutely no justice for the high level of his needs. But when you ring him for the same reason, that’s a different story. He’ll deliberately tease you. Minho will purposely instruct you not to touch yourself, otherwise not to let you cum. Sometimes he’ll be merciful and allow it, but most of the time, he won’t. He needs to make you cum himself.

“You’re what? Horny?” He asks. “How can you still be horny when I fucked you this morning just before I left?”

“Min…” you groan, frustrated with his response. “I can’t help it when you’re not here. Can’t I touch myself at least?”

“You can do whatever you want.”

“Please I just…I need you to….can you just-“

“Big words baby girl,” Minho would tease.

He is merciful enough to let you cum though because he loves you and can’t stand to hear you on the verge of tears from being denied to cum.

-

CHANGBIN

There is the odd occasion where Changbin will ring you in the dead of the night, horny as fuck and needs to talk to you to bust one out. But he doesn’t let up on the fact that, nine times out of ten, it’s always you who ends up ringing him. He has to talk you through the whole process of getting yourself off, telling you to slide your hand down the front of your pants and gently rub small circles into your clit.

This man could be in the middle of a crowded public place, be on the phone to you, and talking the dirtiest shit to help you cum. Saying something like ‘aw, I’m not here to fuck you now baby. You’re gonna have to use your hands.’ In short, Changbin power creeps you when you're away from each other because he knows there’s nothing you can do to satiate your needs other than to ring him.

“I can’t do this by myself,” you’d whine and complain to him over the phone. “My fingers aren’t enough, I need you, please.”

“I know,” he’d say apologetically. “But it’ll just have to do for now baby. “I’ll help you cum, yeah? Does that sound good?”

“Yes, hurry, please.”

-

HYUNJIN

Phone sex with this man would be like speaking to a god on the other end of the line. Most of the time, it’s not a phone call where one is horny and the other isn’t.

Usually, you’re both horny and roughly around the same time which is perfect yet frustrating. Phone sex is also amazing because you get to cum together, listening to one another on the end of the line mixed in with delicious wet sounds and angelic moans.

“I miss you so much angel, miss fucking that wet pussy of yours,” he’d say to you.

“Jinnie…come back soon, need it so bad,” you’d reply. “Want to cum around you…”

“Yeah? Like cumming around my cock don’t you baby? Wanna feel you shake, see your eyes roll back, see you cum for me…”

-

JISUNG

Needs to ring you to get himself off. Majority of the time, it’s always him. Like Jisung will send you a nude of his lower half and you can clearly see that he’s hard. And you’d reply with the rolling eyes emoji to which he’d take that as a sign to ring you and tell you just how horny he is. In saying that, when he’s gotten himself into that situation, Jisung will beg for you to do something, switching that sub mode on of his.

“Please…fucking make me cum, please,” he whines.

“I dunno Jisung,” you’d say hesitantly. “What makes you think I should?”

“Been…I’ve been good,” he swallows. “Just wanna cum.”

“Have you really been good though?” You question. “You sent me photo of yourself yesterday trying to get off…”

He did in fact send a photo to you of his stomach where strings of sticky white decorated his abdomen. It made you clench your legs together and it was hot enough to make you want to ring him and ask him for the same favor. But you did him one better and sent him a video of you making yourself cum in front of the mirror.

-

FELIX

A literal godsend when it comes to phone sex with you. He’s so understanding of your needs especially if you’re a fair distance away from each other and for equally as longer. As a result, he recognises how difficult it would be to get yourself off when he’s not there. He doesn’t like hearing you suffer, sexually too. If you want to cum, he’ll let you - no hesitation whatsoever. So with phone sex, whatever you need, he’s on it.

“I know you miss me baby, I miss you too. Want me to talk you through it?”

“P-Please Lix.”

“Okay then. Lie back and take off your underwear okay? Then I want you to rub your clit nice and slow for me,” he’d instruct.

“Mm - yes…”

“Feel good baby?”

“Not as good as your mouth,” you’d say which would make Felix’s cock twitch in his pants.

“I know, just a couple more days and I’ll be back. Then I’ll fuck you however you want. You’ve been such a good girl for me…”

-

SEUNGMIN

Seungmin can go one of two ways when it comes to phone sex; he can be impartial, understanding and generous when it comes to you ringing him. Or, he can be cruel. When he’s feeling nice, Seungmin will take you through the basics-

“Where’s your toy baby?” He’d ask you.

“It’s right here beside me.”

“Then why didn’t you turn it on in the first place, huh?”

“Because I wanted to wait for you to tell me what to do,” you’d reply back.

Then if he’s feeling the complete opposite, you have to start praying that he’ll let you cum. He’d let you use the vibrator, but good luck trying to orgasm.

“Seungmin please, I can’t…can’t take it…”

“That’s too bad,” he’d reply back. “Maybe you should’ve thought about that before sending me a whole set of nudes.”

-

JEONGIN

Jeongin is the type to not let you cum when you’re having phone sex with him because he has this thing where he needs to make you physically orgasm in person. Whether it’s by way of his fingers, dick, or mouth. He’ll let you start to get off, but he won’t let you finish. So he’d definitely delve into a bit of orgasm denial there.

“J-Jeongin…it’s too much, please, just wanna cum so bad for you.”

“No, what did I say?”

Tears would be pricking your eyes at this point having been half an hour into a call with him and still not allowed to cum, “I-I know what you said but, I just-“

“Don’t do it, or I’m not fucking you when I get back.”

You’d try and stifle a series of moans, but the silence on the other end of the line would tell Jeongin the whole story. At that point, he would know that you just came, completely disobeying his orders.

He’d politely wait a few moments just listening to your heavy breathing until he reckons you’ve come down and say, “what did I just tell you?”

“Come on, you love me too much.”

And you’re right, because he does and you know the minute he’s getting home, he probably won’t uphold his word by saying that he won’t fuck you.

-

A/N: this is unedited atm bc I am down with the flu and very tired lol I will come back to edit this when I’m a bit better and focus on the rest of my works x

[hana-no-seiiki]

yandere fae that’s been pestering you for weeks, trying to get your name. you deny him at every turn. that is, until he has his head between your legs and you, intoxicated by the aphrodisiac that is his saliva, tell him while you’re on the precipice of an orgasm. he wins three prizes that day. the utterance of your name, the taste of your sweet essence, and the honor of fucking you.

as far as he’s concerned, you’re his now. that much is proven by how he jackrabbits into you, stretching each vowel of your name out with every thrust.

— (yandere fae oc anon)

omfg anon- are you secretly a huge writer holy shit this is fucken graphic (in the best way possible)

i don’t write smut on this blog because kids here are blind to mdni + tumblr is oddly on my dick when it comes to explicit posts in comparison to other writers/blogs, so this would have been better to send to @yoru-no-seiiki but I’ll give ya’ll this :

I think it’d be pretty funny for a trans reader / reader with a dead name to be paired with him. Like I’m pretty sure the creator of the fae myth didn’t really account the fact that people might identify better with another name so much so that it would be more powerful than their were given at birth.

or an orphan reader with no name to identify with at all. maybe raised by other mythical creatures that specifically kept them unnamed to protect them from the fae

butttt their lack of name became the very reason that the fae is so attached to the reader, to the point of fervent worship.

like it started from being a small, insignificant get together until it became something much much more (to both the fas and the reader)

whole ass that one hamilton line “i wish i could say that was the last time, i said that the last time it became a pasttime”

and whenever you wanted to create some distance between the two of you, the fae just uses their powers to either make your mind go wonky / forget, or just plain assault and break all the boundaries you set.

gaslight, girlkeep, girlboss king.

you may think one thing…

no you actually dont. you just dont.

[iamthat-iam]

Real vs Unreal 🤯

Jade has been in the LOA community for over a year now. It opened her up to many different possibilities, such as shifting to the MCU (Marvel Universe) where she is a superhero with super strength, super speed, and the ability to fly.

Everyday when she wakes up, and before she goes to bed, she does an intense visualization of this reality. Each time she does it, her "current reality" seems to disappear, until she opens her eyes. She knows that she's so close yet so far from shifting there! She decides to go on Tumblr and ask for advice.

She comes across some intriguing ND posts that say "You must collapse the duality between physical vs imagination and real vs unreal" and "All experiences are the same, no matter the label. Seeing a car in a 'daydream' is no different than seeing one 'in real life.'"

This seems to be different than what she learned from LOA, with the existence of a 3D/4D and 'fulfilling your imagination until it shows up in the physical.' She sends a blogger a question out of curiosity.

"Hi! I know that this is not a shifting blog, but I wanted clarification on a few things. For over a year now, I've been trying to shift to the Marvel Universe, where I'm a superhero with powers. Everyday I do a visualization where I am experiencing these things. I just saw your post that says all experiences are the same, and how seeing something in imagination is the same as real life. Does this mean the whole time I was visualizing myself in that reality, I was already experiencing that? It was real? I also want to know how imagination and physical are the same. Thank you." She inquired.

The blogger responds with, "Yes you already experienced it. The reason why there's no physical vs imagination is because your awareness, your true nature, is present during all appearances that come and go. We've just labelled certain appearances real or not real based on certain ideas we picked up through life. For example, many people think that experiences are only real when you are awake and you seem to be living through the 5 senses. They were also taught that things like fairies, dragons, supernatural abilities aren't real, so when they hear stories about people experiencing those things, it's a huge shock for them. But in reality, nothing is objectively real or unreal, all experiences are possible for awareness. You (as awareness, THAT, or " ") are the ONLY thing that is truly real. As the ultimate authority, only you can decide what is "true" for you or not."

Jade decides to take some time to really think about what this blogger said. Everything they said is a complete 180 from what Jade thought she knew about life and how reality works. So that means this entire time, she was already in the MCU? And the MCU is apparently just as real as what Jade calls "real life?" That is truly an interesting concept to ponder! The one thing that has Jade stumped, however, is the fact that she opens her eyes and continues to see her old life. She goes back to the blogger to ask about this.

"That's really interesting how I already experienced being in the MCU! So this technically means I can tell someone I "shifted" there, and they couldn't accuse me of lying? Also, I'm a bit confused on why whenever I open my eyes after visualizing, I still see my old life," She questioned the blogger.

"To answer your first question, no, they can't accuse you of 'lying' because that was a valid experience for you. The idea that you have to experience "shifting symptoms" or enter the void state to "experience another world" is limiting, and creates a barrier between you and whatever you want to experience. This is no disrespect to that community, if they want to "shift" or "enter the void state" to experience things, that is totally up to them. But ND is about not labelling experiences, and not treating them as if they are separate from you. All experiences are yours. It's natural for you, as an omnipotent being, to experience whatever you want instantly. As for why your "old life" continues to appear, there is no old life. There's no experience A turning into experience B, it's all nothingness. You said you visualized being in the MCU, have you noticed that the "old life" seems to disappear and you're totally focused on the visualization? That's because the "old life" never was in the first place!" The blogger explained.

That response made everything click for Jade. She finally feels free enough to experience the MCU universe or any other universe whenever she wants! "Thank you so much! This was very helpful and empowering!" She thanked the blogger.

And so Jade became the superhero she always wanted to be.

[ao3commentoftheday]

Hello! First of all, thank you for this blog. I’ve read some of the asks you’ve answered so far and they’ve been incredibly fun and to go through and very useful <3

The problem I have is very… specific. But I figured why not share it here, you know?

A few months ago, I started leaving rants and analyses in one of my favorite AO3 writer’s tumblr ask box, regarding their fics. That kind of evolved and long story short, they’ve been following my tumblr blog for a while.

Now this obviously makes me incredibly happy. They’re not exactly popular in the whole wide fandom, per se, but they’ve kind of created a smaller fandom within the original fandom through their fics and art (which are mostly AU longfics, and art for said AUs), so this basically feels like being tumblr mutuals with someone like Neil Gaiman to me.

The problem arises in the fact that I feel like I’m being watched now. This person I look up to follows my tumblr, and knows my AO3 handle, and I have only posted a single fic so far, but I have so many other fics I want to write, and I’m always so anxious to write because I keep thinking “When I post this, are they going to see it? Read it, maybe? Are they gonna hate it? Are they gonna unfollow me because they don’t like my characterization or writing?” and I keep trying to reason with myself that part of the reason I look up to them so much is that they promote a “No judgement” policy, and part of the reason they followed me is because they liked my analysis of their work, but now I’m realizing that… I want them to read my fics. And I want them to like them and maybe I want us to be friends and not just mutuals, and I want us to freak out about each other’s fics, you know?

That is worsened by the fact that… My tumblr account is fairly new. And I have a total of 3 followers including said fanfic writer, so I feel the pressure to post fics in order to grow my tumblr circle and build a community, but that directly clashes with my desire to write something absolutely perfect so they’ll like it, which then both clash with what makes writing fic enjoyable, AKA doing it for myself and writing what I want to and how I want to.

I’m aware that I can’t control what another person likes, dislikes, or does. And that I have all the time in the world to write the fics I want and those that will make me happy without regarding what other people might think. But also… fandom are communities. And I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them, so that desire to grow my account as soon as I can is very strong simply because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see (except… y’know, maybe my favorite fanfic writer, which is a whole other level of pressure) about fics that don’t exist yet. Another part of this is the fact that, unless I get fics out, I’m relying on the fanfic writer liking my ideas and interacting to build a community.

As much as I try to convince myself to just write without care and to stop trying to control what this person does because that is completely out of my control and kind of dehumanizing on their behalf, the anxiety doesn’t subside. I don’t know what to do.

This ask was a bit of a journey for me, anon, and it took a little bit of untangling to see where you were going with it. I think this might be the central issue you're facing though:

I want my tumblr and AO3 to be places where I can talk about my fics with people who like them ... because I have no one else to talk to. I don’t want to talk to the void and post rants that no one will see ... about fics that don’t exist yet.

You're looking for fandom friends, and you're at the start of that journey - and I think you're doing well already by reaching out to an author you like and sending them asks about their work. Being willing to reach out and talk to people is an amazing quality, anon, and I encourage you to keep doing that. Follow more people who post things that you're interested in. Drop asks in their inbox and start a conversation.

The other half of that is giving other people and opportunity to reach out to you. You can do this by posting your thoughts about the canon your fandom is tied to. You can see a ton of examples here on tumblr where folks discuss a particular moment or scene that meant something to them.

You can also reblog asks memes, like the AO3 wrapped ones I reblogged the other day. Sometimes I see people just answer all of the questions in their own reblog, but if you want people to have an opening, just leave your ask box open and see what comes through.

If you want to talk about your own work, you can post something for WIP Wednesday or Six Sentence Sunday - or just post a scene that you've been working on and ask what people think.

Everyone starts off with a handful of followers, anon. You won't dive into a lively community overnight. You also don't have to create tons of popular fics in order to make one. Join a community that already exists. Find the people you vibe with within it. This author friend of yours might be the perfect place to start.

Even our favourite people, the ones we look up to most, are still just people when it comes down to it. If this author is as chill as you say they are, I think friendship is totally possible.

I'll open it up to the blog now. Did I read this one wrong? Do you have advice for anon? Have you been in a situation like theirs?

[staytheword]

evermore 

evermore — one shot [ general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!!

• hyunjin x female reader; lee know, jeongin and seungmin are featured.

• non idol au, coffee shop au (sort of), hints of soulmate au. slow burn (as much as can be in a one shot lol), mutual pining, angst, smut. — unprotected sex, oral sex (f and m receiving), sex in an (empty) public place, creampie.

• word count: 12.9k

Evermore. A café that is also a bookstore. A place where you can sit down with a book, sip delicious coffee, slip away from reality. Evermore is your favorite place. For the coffee, for the books, for Hyunjin.

• author’s note: I am very excited and nervous to share this one-shot with you. I hope I can do justice to our dear Hyunjin and that you enjoy reading it. If you can grab a warm drink and a blanket to set the mood ♡

Dedicated to @straywrds ♡ thank you for being in my life.

It was summer and you came every Tuesday. 

It was the season of iced americanos and lemonade, the sunshine reflecting on the windows and filling the place with light. People came in to grab a cold drink, maybe a cookie, and strolled back outside. They borrowed books to read under the sun or bought a few for their vacation. It was a hot and humid summer, of lazy evenings that stretched into unforgettable nights. Hyunjin liked to keep the place open later in the summer, as late as the ice cream place next door. Sometimes, after having indulged in a dessert, people liked to grab a coffee to get the taste of sugar off their tongue. 

On Tuesdays he would glance at the door just before two, waiting for you. You never failed to show up. You got your iced coffee, which you took with just a few drops of vanilla soy milk, and sat down at your favorite table, the one in the corner, close to the History section. You would spend the next two hours or so going through a book, slowly sipping your beverage, and you would determine if you wanted to buy it or not. Sometimes you did, sometimes you didn’t. Hyunjin didn’t mind. It was the whole concept of the place. 

People could read as much as they wanted as long as they bought a drink or a snack. The books were there to be read. They could be bought, but not borrowed. There were plenty of places to sit, tables and couches and armchairs. On the floor were laid large carpets furnished with cushions. There was always coffee and food available. 

Hyunjin was proud of his book café. 

He was even more proud to see you find solace in it. 

At least that’s what he assumed - why would you come every week, if it wasn’t the case? He saw how your shoulders relaxed as you read, how sometimes you briefly closed your eyes in delight after your first sip of coffee. His favorite thing, after seeing you smile, was to see your brow furrow as you read something that captivated you. Your head would fall forward, your hair brushing your cheeks, and you would completely forget the world around you. 

You didn’t notice him looking at you. 

He wasn’t stalking you. You were just one of his favorite customers. Polite, kind. Pretty. You saw him as more than just the guy with the apron selling him books and coffee. You smiled at him, asked how he was that week. Maybe you did that with everyone, but he still liked it. He would find himself giving you the cookie from the freshest batch, or brewing a new pitcher of his best coffee just before came in. He would forget to charge you extra for the vanilla soy milk. 

He was a whole cliché mess but he did not care. You brought softness to his days. Solace to the routine. He made this place for people like you. But it was even more than that. In fact, sometimes, he became convinced he created it specifically for you. Perhaps that was going too far, but Hyunjin had never been a reasonable man. He was a romantic through and through, and he did not care about the logic of things. He liked the poetry of you, composed one verse at a time each summer Tuesday. 

One week the air conditioning broke. It got hot real fast, and Hyunjin already had a layer of sweat on his skin when you came in at two o’clock. You were wearing denim shorts and a tank top. You chuckled amusingly, and said to him, quite hot today, isn’t it? He suggested coming another time because it would be uncomfortable but you didn’t care. You paid for your beverage and sat at your usual spot. You gathered your hair together and secured it with a clip - a few strands of hair stuck to the back of your neck  and Hyunjin stared at them. He wiped the sweat off his brow, and tried to focus on work. 

About half an hour later you came back to the counter and asked for an empty glass full of ice cubes. Don’t worry, you told him. I won’t get the books wet. Hyunjin trusted you - he gave you the ice cubes with a smile, licking the sweat off his lips. At first he thought you just wanted to let them melt in your mouth, but you surprised him. 

He watched as you took the ice cubes in your hands, placed them against your skin and let them melt there. Sometimes you put them on your neck, sometimes on your cheek. He was never as distracted as that afternoon, admiring the ice turn into water on your skin, sliding down your arm or your collarbone. He imagined following the trail with his finger. Or with his tongue, maybe. 

That sent a shiver up his spine. 

He had to relieve his throbbing cock in the bathroom of the café, eyes shut against the image of you panting beside him, his skin sticky and his thoughts tangled together. 

He wasn’t obsessed with you. You were just so soothing. Something about you made him want to stare for hours, a lazy smile upon his lips, appeased. 

He barely knew anything about you, which was fine. It’s not even that he wanted to know everything. Of course he liked when you told him things - he reveled in every new information you revealed, but he savored them like candy. Piece by piece, letting them melt on his tongue to a syrup, at a slow and steady rhythm. He was not interested in rushing things. From time to time you told him about you, and from time to time he told you about him. 

You were a harpist. You played with an orchestra and gave lessons at the nearby music school. On Tuesdays your last lesson ended at 1:45, which gave you the rest of the afternoon to relax. The café was your favorite place to do that. 

Hyunjin told you he opened the café a few years ago with the help of a friend. He had never much ambition except having his own place to take care of. For a long time he hesitated between a café and a bookstore, and eventually settled on a place that served as both. His only regret was to not make it a cat café - but it was never too late. Maybe in a few years, he told you once with a shy laugh. 

By all accounts, you were single. You did not have a ring around your finger, and you never mentioned a boyfriend. But maybe you were just private about it. Maybe you were casually dating. It wasn’t any of his business. 

Hyunjin was not single. He had been in his relationship for a year and thought he was in love. But you changed everything. 

That was how a heart was supposed to beat, he realized. 

That was the ecstatic rhythm of a healthy and blissful heart.  

He told himself he would break up with his girlfriend and ask you out before the end of the summer. Each week he told himself, next Tuesday. I’ll do it next Tuesday. But he never did, and time slipped through his fingers like sand. 

Summer faded away and you stopped coming.

You look up at the sign and smile to yourself. Evermore. So accurately named. You haven’t been in there in forever, it seems, and to a certain extent it has. Months. Back then it was summer and you spent a few hours there every week. Never missed a Tuesday. The doors used to be left wide open and you could smell coffee from meters away. 

Now the snow creaks under the soles of your boots and the doors are shut. It is cold today and you bury your nose in your scarf. 

It is not Tuesday, but you have nothing planned and you are dying for a warm cup of coffee and a good book. You haven’t done that in ages. You miss it. Surely, he won’t remember you. Surely, it’s been long enough for him to forget. 

You pull the handle of the door and enter the café. Immediately you smell the familiar smells, coffee and sugar and cinnamon, mellow music playing on the speakers. You wipe your boots on the carpet and head to the counter, gazing around, smiling to yourself. It’s as you remember, the floorboards creaking under your feet, the seemingly endless rows of books, the quiet noise of conversation.

Him. 

You see him, behind the counter, busy cleaning a machine. He hasn’t noticed you. He still looks the same, his thin chocolate hair grazing his ears, his apron tied around his waist. It’s the first time you see him in a sweater. It looks soft, a creamy beige color, the sleeves rolled up his forearms. His wide hands are quick and agile. You swallow, trying to steady your erratic heartbeat. 

He probably doesn’t remember you. 

You have only been strangers, after all. 

The place is quiet and comforting. During summer days it was the breeze upon your cheek, and now it’s like stepping inside a warm, familiar room. It feels like you could find a fireplace in the corner, your mother’s gingerbread cookies, your favorite slippers. How can it feel so much like home if you haven’t been here in months? 

You loosen your scarf and unbutton your coat, stepping closer to the counter.

“Hi,” you say, trying not to sound too nervous. 

He turns around, meeting your eyes. They immediately sweep you off your feet, and you’re glad the cold has already reddened your cheeks, because Hyunjin looks even more celestial than before. Eyes like the deepest night sky, lips the most delicate shade of pink. They looked a little damaged, chapped, probably because of the cold, but they are still inviting. His hair is longer, tickling the collar of his sweater, but shorter strands graze his eyebrows. He looks at you like you can’t really be here - but before you can try to understand what it means, he swallows and smiles timidly at you. 

“It’s you,” he breathes. 

And you thought he wouldn’t recognize you. So much for that. Your words completely evade you, and you feel a little silly, standing there. 

“I - I haven’t seen you in so long,” he stammers, rubbing the back of his head, looking nervous. 

“I was away,” you tell him simply. “I came back just a couple of days ago.” 

“Oh,” he nods, “I see. I’m just glad to see you’re okay.” 

You smile, your nervousness fading slightly. “Thanks. I’m happy to be back. I missed this place a lot.” 

Hyunjin blushes, evading your gaze for a moment, and his reaction surprises you so much you have to do the same. You look down at your boots, at the floor, at the display of pastries to your right. 

“Can I get you anything?” 

His voice brings you back to him. You give him a nod, glancing at the menu above his head. It’s a little different than it was this summer, but it’s not much of a surprise. There are so many things you want to try. You hesitate between a few drinks, chewing on your lower lip, trying to make a choice. 

“I’ll have… Oh, God, I can’t choose,” you chuckle. 

Hyunjin’s eyes squeeze into crescents as he smiles amusingly. “I could make you an iced coffee, but it might be a little cold for that.” 

“Definitely,” you answer, smiling widely. “I’ll try the… macchiato?” 

“Coming right up.” 

You lean against the counter as Hyunjin gets to work, preparing your drink. You take the opportunity to look around some more, immersing yourself in your environment. It’s not too busy for a Thursday night, probably because of the cold. You see students working on their computers, a young man browsing books, an older woman reading one, comfortably seated on an armchair with a blanket on her legs.

On the speakers, a gentle piano melody starts to play. You close your eyes, inhaling the smells around you. You feel calm. 

When Hyunjin comes back with your drink, you reach for your wallet but he quickly holds up a palm. 

“Please. It’s on me. To welcome you back.” 

You stammer. “But -” 

“It’s my pleasure.” 

He seems so sincerely happy to offer it to you that you can only smile, giving him a grateful nod. You’re not sure what to say. You glance down at the ceramic mug, filled to the brim with caramel-colored foam, an intricate floral pattern drawn in it. It smells heavenly, and you already know it will be delicious.

“Thank you.” 

“Enjoy.” 

You wish you could stay there with him. Walk around the counter and hang there, catching up with him. You wonder what he’s been up to. How business has been. Why he looks so tired. You want to tell him how seeing him again makes you feel. Like you’ve been away from where you belong. Like you’ve never even left.

But you can’t. You don’t know him, not really. A name, a few silly details. Just bits and pieces, not even enough to be able to call him a friend. So you give him another smile, carefully take the mug in your hands, and search for a table. 

Of course, you don’t really hesitate. You sit at the same table as you did this summer. It offers a perfect view of the busy street ahead, so you can watch people walk by and try to figure out where they come from, where they are going. It also shields you just a little from view, because not a lot of people are interested in the Poetry section. The spot also allows you easy glances at the main counter, so you can watch Hyunjin work. 

So what if you have a little crush on your favorite barista? You don’t see the harm in it. Hyunjin is a handsome, charming guy. He’s your age. He has a successful business. He is kind and soft-spoken. He likes book, has a sweet tooth. He is everything you could ever wish for and convinced you can never have. After all, why would Hyunjin see you? 

But he remembers you. That much you are surprised of. You did come here once a week for a few months, and you had a few conversations, but it was nothing deep, just small talk. But back then he remembered your order and called you by your name. You wonder if he still remembers it now, like you could never forget his. 

Once you remove your coat and scarf, you take a sip of the macchiato and it makes your taste buds dance. It’s the perfect temperature, and just the right amount of spices. Is that a hint of vanilla you taste, too? It’s your favorite flavor. 

You smile to yourself, licking your lips so as to not lose even a drop, and lean back into the chair. Outside the window blows through the freshly fallen snow, twirling it into the air like small tornadoes. 

You could get yourself a book but for now, you just want to look outside and enjoy the feeling of being here. You were anxious it would be a little too different during the winter, but it isn’t. The place has a soul that leaves a permanent imprint, and it whispers Hyunjin’s name. 

Perhaps it isn’t even him. Perhaps it’s this place. You might have ended up projecting the solace it brought you on its owner, as if he is responsible for it. Because what do you know about Hyunjin, apart from a couple of disarrayed fragments? You have no idea who he really is. Perhaps you have been too eager to love. You’ve always so desperately wanted to believe in it. 

You do not love Hyunjin. You love this place and how it makes you feel. And just as you’re about to convince yourself of that, your eyes slide across the room and fall on him. He’s leaning on the counter, facing your way, gnawing on a nail. The sleeves of his sweater are a little too long, and cover most of his hands. He’s looking at you - and when he realizes you’re looking back, smiles nervously and waves. 

You do the same. 

It’s not the first time this has happened. Back during the summer, you’ve surprised his gaze in a similar fashion. But you often just thought he was looking in your general direction - you were sitting next to a large window that opened on a busy street. You never thought much of it. But sometimes it really did feel like he was looking at you. 

Like that hot summer day, when the air conditioning wasn’t working. You had been so desperately hot that day but you didn’t want to leave. Hyunjin had rolled the sleeves of his t-shirt around his shoulders and his arms looked like sculpted marble. You asked for ice cubes, a trick that you had seen your mother do a thousand times, not thinking much of it. But you had caught Hyunjin staring and thought he found you weird, so you stopped, worried you were making a fool of yourself. Luckily, if he did, he didn’t hold it against you. 

You see him now and your heart trembles.

You missed him.

Once you finish your drink and get lost in your thoughts some more, you start to feel tired. You don’t want to spend the rest of your night yawning, and you have to get up early, so you reluctantly slip your coat back on and bring your empty mug to the counter. Hyunjin thanks you with a smile. 

“How was it?” he asks, wide eyes fixed on you.

“Really good,” you nod. “Loved the hint of vanilla.” 

He nods, looking proud. 

“Goodnight,” you tell him, wrapping your scarf around your neck. 

As you turn, Hyunjin’s voice stops you.

“Y/N,” he calls, softly, his voice almost quivering. 

You do your best to keep a steady smile on your lips, but inside of you, your heart feels like it’s just been squeezed tightly. Your name.

He remembers your name. 

“Will I see you on Tuesdays again?” he asks softly. 

You swallow, glancing nervously at your hands. 

“I don’t think so,” you admit. “I have lessons until late that day, starting next week.” 

Is that disappointment you see on his face? You’re not sure. You give him a timid smile, however, accompanied with a shrug. 

“I do have my Wednesdays off, though. So they might become my new Tuesday.” 

He meets your eyes, and you smile perhaps a little too widely. You can’t help it - his eyes are shimmering, his cheeks a soft pink. 

“I’ll see you next Wednesday, then.” 

You allow yourself to drift off in his eyes, just for a second. “See you then.”

It is winter and you come every Wednesday. 

Ever since that night you order the same drink. A strong macchiato with steamed vanilla soy milk. The one he created specifically for you. 

He would probably lie if you asked him, but he did.

You fall in love with his cranberry scones so Hyunjin makes sure they are fresh out of the oven when you pass the door. He discovers your collection of sweaters - his favorite is the color of apricots, the one you pair with golden earrings. He learns that an old friend knitted your scarf back when you were in high school and you wear it every winter since. That your boots are new because the soles of the previous ones were ruined from an evening of intense chewing by your mother’s dog. 

That the reason you disappeared was nothing tragic. You got a provisional contract to play for an orchestra across the country, replacing someone on maternity leave. It was just a few weeks but you stayed for longer, enjoying the time away. 

You needed to clear your mind and see the world, you tell him one Wednesday night. He is sorting books in the aisles when you appear, in search of a new one to read. You start to chat, and he loves the way you lean against the shelves, your arms behind your back, your colored lips telling stories about what you saw. You had a good time there but you missed home, you say. 

Hyunjin could listen to you for hours. 

Your nails are painted the color of cream and your perfume has hints of vanilla. He thought it was bad this summer but this is worse. He can’t stop thinking about you. He wonders what your kitchen looks like, what kind of art you have on your walls. How your hair looks sprayed upon your pillow, if your cheeks are puffed up in the morning. He wants to make you your favorite espresso so it’s the first thing you smell when you wake up, and then perhaps make you come with his tongue. 

He keeps hearing your voice pronouncing his name. He keeps seeing you wrap your scarf around your slender neck. He keeps smelling vanilla everywhere he goes. 

He should probably do something. Ask you out, or at least find a way to discover if you are single. He is, after all. Broke up with his girlfriend after you didn’t come back for a couple of weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her anymore. He didn’t have you, he didn’t want anyone. 

A part of him expects you to show up with someone one day, holding their hand, smiling lovingly at them while waiting for your drinks. He should ask. That’s what anyone would do, after all. He should express his feelings, or find a way to exorcize them out of his body. 

But Hyunjin likes it the way it is. He likes the romance, he thrills on the longing. He likes that time slows down. That he gets a glimpse of you every Wednesday, the colors of winter passing upon your cheeks, and that you remain a mystery. At the same time he feels like he deeply knows you, beyond usual bonds, that you connect on an intangible level. Both a stranger and a soulmate. He’s probably delusional - but he’d rather be a romantic than a realist. 

Today is Saturday and Hyunjin can’t stop thinking about the black turtleneck you wore a few days ago. You had your hair in a ponytail, the tight collar hugging your neck so well. You bought a book saying it was a gift for someone, but you didn’t say who. For family, perhaps? You didn’t say. He didn’t ask. 

The door of the Evermore opens and lets in a gust of wind. He looks up, just curious to see what kind of client is coming in, and his heart stops. It’s you. 

On a Saturday. 

And you are not alone. 

He knew the day would come. He knew it would happen. The day you’d come through the door with someone. Yet he wasn’t prepared for the blow. It’s like someone’s just punched him in the stomach, knocked the air out. 

You look pretty. You’re wearing a little more makeup than usual and your long wool coat hangs open. It’s warm outside today because of the bright sun, so that might be why. You’re smiling broadly, in the middle of laughing, looking back at your friend. He’s telling you something, a mischievous smirk curving his lips, closing the door behind him. He has dark hair and beautiful doe eyes. 

You chuckle to what he says, heading towards the counter, and Hyunjin straightens his back. It’s okay, he tells himself. Of course you have a life outside this place. Of course you have a life outside of him. You are not a fantasy. You are a person. 

“Hey, Hyunjin,” you say, walking up to him. 

Your eyes are full of light and Hyunjin’s breath catches in his throat. “Hey. Fancy seeing you here on a Saturday.” 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “We’re going ice skating in the park and so, in dire need of caffeine. I told Minho he had to taste that macchiato of yours.” 

Minho. The guy behind you gives Hyunjin a kind smile. He nods back, unable to really understand how he’s feeling right now. All he wants to do is ask. Who is he? Your brother? Your friend? Your date? Your boyfriend? 

What makes you think I want him to taste the drink I made for you? 

“She kept insisting it was the most delicious hot drink she ever had, so…” Minho says with a chuckle. 

He looks at you with some kind of affection but Hyunjin is unable to identify which kind. He keeps smiling, he keeps breathing. In a way it’s even more fascinating to see you interact with someone you know. What does this guy know about you, Hyunjin wonders? What parts of yourself do you share with him? 

“Two macchiatos, then,” Hyunjin nods. “I’ll get that ready for you.” 

“Thank you,” you say, searching your bag. 

Minho shakes his head, already handing Hyunjin his card. “Please. It’s my treat.” 

“Oh, thank you.” 

He looks down at you and smiles, and your cheeks get pink. Whoever he is, you’re not used to his presence. Hyunjin watches you interact with him as he prepares the drinks. From the way Minho interacts with you, Hyunjin can safely conclude he’s flirting. It doesn’t look like you know each other well, though, from the information you seem to give him. If this isn’t your first date, it’s either the second or the third. 

Hyunjin will give him that - Minho listens to you. He seems interested, both in what you look like and what you have to say. Hyunjin might have expected jealousy to blossom in his heart, but he can barely feel its claws. He’s curious. He’s happy for you. You deserve to be taken care of. He doesn’t want to hate the guy, especially not if you like him, if he makes you smile. 

Of course he wishes it was him. He would ice skate with you for hours, holding your hand. He would kiss your cold cheeks and make you hot chocolate afterwards. But he’s not in your life like that. 

Still, he doesn’t put vanilla soy milk in the guy’s macchiato. That’s just for you.

“Here you go,” Hyunjin tells you, handing you the drinks when he is done. “Have a good time.” 

“Thanks. I’ll see you Wednesday?” 

“I’ll be here.”  You smile at him one last time, and Minho does the same, politely. Once you’re back outside, Hyunjin watches you walk away until you disappear around a corner. Out of sight. Out of reach.

Minho walked you home that night. After you went ice skating you ate at a delicious Italian restaurant. You had a glass of wine and he paid for the meal. You offered him to come up for a nightcap, and after you talked for a while on your couch, he kissed you. His lips were soft, his hand gentle as he cupped your cheek. He was an excellent kisser, and a part of you really wanted to take him to bed. 

You’re not sure why you hesitated - but Minho sensed it and did not even ask. He just kissed you again and whispered goodnight. The sudden dread of being alone caught you, and you suggested he stayed, but he smiled at you and shook his head. I should get home. You didn’t insist. 

Once you laid on bed and pushed your fingers inside you, relieving your aching folds, it was not him you thought about. It was a boy with tranquil eyes and inviting lips. A boy whose fingers you pictured on your skin, whose smile you imagined against your wetness. You wondered what he would sound like. Would he just breathe in your neck, or maybe whisper sinful words? What would his voice sound like, roughened up, muffled against your lips? You come to the thought of his arms around you, lean muscles holding you close.

It barely feels enough. You feel on edge up all the way to Wednesday. That morning, as you do on Wednesdays, you wake up with a smile on your face. 

A thick layer of heavy, crunchy snow has fallen during the night. It’s perfect for making snowmen, sliding, and crafting snow forts, and so all afternoon you spy people gearing up for skiing and other winter activities. It’s not too cold either, and there is barely any wind - the ideal weather for long walks to admire the snow lounging on tree branches. Your own eyes have wandered on them all day, and you barely got anything done. 

The Café is extremely busy all afternoon, people coming in and out for hot chocolates and coffees to go. Hyunjin and his co-worker, a journalism student called Jeongin, are overwhelmed, barely able to stop for a few breaks. You watch them warily, wishing you could lend a hand, but you are sure Hyunjin will say no. 

Now, it’s nearly five and things have slowed down. People are busy preparing and eating dinner, but they’ll come back - the nearby restaurants are packed and you just know all of them will want a delicious coffee to finish their meal. You should get going. You should get home, get your things in order. Keep living your life. Call your mother, fold the laundry, and plan another date with Minho. But your heart wants none of those things. You just feel like lingering here a little longer. 

You stand up, walking lazily around the book tables near the counter, pretending like you’re reading the back cover of a mystery book. 

Hyunjin and Jeongin are talking in hushed tones, but from this distance you can make out what they are saying. 

“I’m sorry, Hyun,” Jeongin says. “I wish I could stay, but I have a midterm tomorrow, and...”

Hyunjin shakes his head. “School is more important. Go. I’ll be fine.” 

“You sure? It’ll be busy tonight.” 

“I’ll manage. Go study.” 

Jeongin thanks Hyunjin profusely, removing his apron and grabbing his coat. In a matter of seconds he leaves the café, and Hyunjin lets out a deep sigh. His long fingers slide through his tousled hair, his eyes a little puffy from exhaustion. Today he wears a white button-up, the collar a little crooked. Underneath it you spy a delicate silver chain. 

When he meets your gaze you smile kindly at him, putting down the book. 

“Busy day,” you say, hoping he notices the concern in your eyes. 

He chuckles, clacking his tongue against his palate. “You said it. Crazy.” 

“Do you have someone else coming in?” you can’t help but ask. 

Hyunjin gives you a curious look and you shrug, blushing a little bit. 

“Couldn’t help but overhear.” 

“Ah,” he smiles briefly. “Yeah, no. It’ll be just me tonight.” 

He tries to sound optimistic, you can hear it in his voice - but there’s that slight tone of defeat, or maybe just apprehension. You hesitate, biting your lower lip. You have nothing to lose by suggesting it to him. It’s not like you have anything planned. And this place has done so much for you - he has done so much. It’s the least you can do. So you take a few steps towards him, placing your hands on the counter. 

“Hyunjin,” you say softly, tasting his name on your lips. 

You don’t think you’ve ever said it much - but it feels nice. Better than nice, really. You like it. Hyunjin. Like a melody you were born to sing. He looks up at you with wide eyes, his ears a little red. 

“Let me help you, please?” you say. 

He opens his mouth with a frown and you hold a hand up. 

“I don’t have anything else to do,” you quickly add, “and you don’t have to pay me. I’m no good at making coffee, but I can work the register. Just show me the ropes and I can do it.” 

“Y/N, I can’t accept, this is -” 

“You can only say no if you don’t trust me with it,” you interrupt him again with the kindest smile you can muster. “Which would be fine. But that’s the only reason I’ll accept.” 

He closes his mouth and gives you a long look. You raise your eyebrows. A few clients walk into the café, chatting loudly about their plans for skiing later. In no time the place will be packed again, you are sure of it. So is Hyunjin, who knows his business better than anyone. He sighs, closing his eyes briefly, and smiles at you. 

“All right,” he says. “But it’s just because I really need help. And the second you get tired I want you to stop, yeah?” 

“Promise.” 

“Come around the counter, then,” he grins. 

Your heartbeat accelerates, and you tell yourself it’s because of the situation, not because of him or the way he smiles at you with constellations in his eyes. You get your things from your table, securing them in the back, and Hyunjin hands you an apron. He shows you how the register works as the recent clients make their order. It’s odd to stand so close to him, his body warmth mingling with yours. You can smell hints of his shampoo and his hand grazes against yours as he walks you through the steps. The register system is simple so you get a hold of it quickly, which is a good thing, because Hyunjin has to make the drinks, and there are more people coming in. 

You don’t have much time to think in the next hours, serving clients and helping Hyunjin with what you can. You glance at him from time to time, watching his body move with ease. He knows exactly where to stand, how many steps to take. It’s like a dance, a waltz of foamed milk and carefully dusted spices. Soon the almond scones and chocolate cookies get sold out, the dishes pile up in the sink, and the rush slows down. The café closes, and you feel both exhausted and exhilarated. Your legs are wobbly and your cheeks hurt from smiling, but you don’t mind. As Hyunjin closes the register, you get behind the sink to do the dishes, making sure the ceramic mugs and metallic cutlery are thoroughly clean. 

You’re so focused on your task you don’t hear the last client leaving. Hyunjin comes to stand next to you, resting against the counter with a smile. 

“All locked up. We did it.” 

You smile broadly at him, feeling a rush of pride. He looks at you attentively in return, a smirk curving his lips. The last few hours have gotten you used to being so close to him, but he still makes your heart jolt. 

“Here,” he says, handing you a macaron - espresso flavored, your favorite. 

You chuckle, showing him your gloved hands, covered in water and foam from the dishes. 

“Just put it there, I’ll…” 

“Don’t move.” 

You freeze as he takes a step closer. He guides the macaron to your lips, looking at them attentively, and you slowly part them. You bite into the macaron, your eyes planted in Hyunjin’s, in awe of the shape and depth of them. He’s beautiful, is all you can think. 

Hyunjin gently pushes the macaron in your mouth, and the tip of his finger brushes your lips. You have to make a conscious effort not to sigh at the touch, and instead focus on the delicious flavors on your tongue. You smile, fully aware, however, that your cheeks must be a bright red. 

Almost as red as the ears poking out from between his hair. 

“It’s delicious,” you say once you finish the macaron.

Hyunjin smiles, although he’s no longer looking you in the eye. He’s staring at your lips. “I know it’s your favorite.” 

“You have a good memory.” 

“I guess it’s a good quality to have for what I do,” he nods. 

Hyunjin grabs a tea towel to dry the dishes and you continue to talk, the tension slowly dissipating. You focus on the conversation, exchanging thoughts about careers and winter, meals and music. Hyunjin makes you laugh, makes you forget the exhaustion, makes you remember what it’s like to be heard. When you finish the dishes, Hyunjin disappears in the back. You remove your apron, fold it and put it on the counter - and you walk towards the nearest window, staring out at the winter night. 

It’s started snowing again. The snowflakes are big, powdery, falling on the ground as if in slow motion. There’s a full moon in the sky. You stare at the tranquil scene, your heart both serene and febrile. You don’t want to go home. 

You got a text from Minho earlier. He asked if you were free that weekend. You get your phone out of your pocket, telling yourself you need to answer him. You like him. He’s a nice guy, attentive and charming. The two dates you had were fun, casual. He didn’t pressure you. You met him through friends, and he’s been nothing but kind. But something is missing. A heartbeat. A flame. A truth, maybe. You’re not sure. 

You stare down at your phone, your fingers hovering over the screen. 

“Want a drink?” 

You spin to see Hyunjin standing a few steps behind you, holding a bottle of red wine. He’s smiling, his head slightly tilted to the right. He removed his apron, and it’s the first time you see him without it. His white button-up is only half tucked into his jeans, which hang around a slim waist, secured by a simple leather belt.  

“You have wine here?” you say with an amused smile.

He chuckles, looking down at the bottle to read the label. 

“My mother gave it to me when I celebrated the five-year opening of the café. I never opened it. Thought this would be a good time. We deserve it after the evening we just had.” He considers you, his smile charming. “No pressure, though.” 

You shake your head. “I’d love to.” 

You get comfortable in a cozy corner of the book café, away from the windows, sitting down on a lush carpet, leaning on fluffy cushions and pillows. You both remove your shoes and when you tell Hyunjin you’re a little cold, he hands you a blanket that you wrap around your shoulders. 

Hyunjin opens the bottle and fills two ceramic mugs, handing you one. You toast to your successful evening, keeping your eyes on each other as you drink. The wine is thick and tastes like cherry and flowers. 

“Thank you for helping me,” he says. “It means a lot.” 

“Of course. It was fun. Reminded me of my college days.” 

Hyunjin pulls his knees to him, leans his head against the wall, studying you. He looks tired, but calm. 

“How’s that?” 

You bite your lip, trying not to smile too widely. “I was a barista for a while to pay my tuition fees.” 

Hyunjin gasps. “Really?” 

“I was…” You chuckle, looking down at your wine. “I was very bad at it.” 

Hyunjin’s laugh echoes through the room. It’s so loud, so undisciplined - thoroughly enchanting. You wish it filled your mug instead of the wine. You laugh with him, hiding your face in your hands. 

“I didn’t want to tell you that earlier so you didn’t panic, but… it’s probably a really good thing I didn’t touch the coffee.” 

You take a sip of wine, still giggling as Hyunjin laughs again. 

“And I trusted you,” he says dramatically, shaking his head at you. 

“Why do you think I come here all the time?” you retort. “I cannot make my own coffee, Hyunjin, that’s why.” 

His smile occupies half of his face, his shirt a little too big for him. You feel a strange longing. How can you, for someone you barely know? But you do. 

He points a finger at you. “Making coffee is a skill. It’s something you learn. I’ll teach you.” 

“What if I’m a lost cause?” 

“That’s all right,” he nods solemnly. “We all need to be bad at something.” 

You laugh, and before you know it your mugs are empty. As the conversation flows, you get tipsy on the wine, emptying the bottle to the last drop. You and Hyunjin talk about everything and nothing. He shows you the trailer for a movie he’s excited to see, and you make him listen to a song. After you forget to press pause and your phone just keeps playing music in the background. 

You talk about your lives, your exes, your dreams. But it’s strange, it’s like the outside world doesn’t truly belong here. The Evermore is its own world and you feel more at home in it than you ever did anywhere else. You had a little too much wine, so when you try to explain the feeling to Hyunjin, you fail miserably. 

“It’s true, Hyunjin,” you tell him with pleading eyes. “This place… it has something special.” 

He watches you, almost - tenderly? 

“It’s only because of people like you,” he says softly. “You make it live.” 

“But it’s not just that,” you whisper, ignoring the sudden acceleration of your heartbeat. “It’s… fuck, I can’t find the words.” 

You sigh exasperatedly, and then hold up a finger. A smile creeps upon your lips. 

“Hold on. I have an idea.” 

You carefully set your mug down, standing up on shaky legs. The world tilts slightly, but you keep your balance and extend your hand towards Hyunjin. He looks at you for a few seconds but eventually slides his palm in yours. You help him up, and you keep your hands interlocked as you lead him towards the bookshelves. 

You know exactly what you are looking for. You go towards the end of the Fiction section, squeezed between two aisles and the wall, and let go of Hyunjin. He stays close to you as you slide your fingers on the book’s bindings, searching for a title. Despite your state, you find it quickly and pull the book off the shelf. 

“Here,” you breathe, opening the book to search for the words you are looking for. 

You are focused and you don’t notice Hyunjin’s eyes fixed upon you. You flip through the pages, and after a minute, you put your index above a few lines of text. 

“This. This is what it is.” 

You lift your eyes and meet his. He is studying you closely, his eyes a profound shade of brown, his mouth parted. You almost entirely forget about the book. Hyunjin’s lips are stained cranberry red by the wine. 

He draws a sharp breath. 

“Read it to me.” 

His voice is hoarse. You lick your lips, taste the wine. You wish they tasted like something else. You swallow, advert your eyes, and start to read. The words drip from your mouth, and you’re not sure you’re reading them correctly because it’s like you can’t hear your own voice. Your heartbeat is too loud, pounding in your chest and resonating against your temples. 

When you’re done, you look up at Hyunjin again, who has not moved. After a second of silence, he shakes his head. You open your mouth, convinced he’s going to say you’re not making any sense. 

Hyunjin stops you with a kiss. 

His lips sweep yours, plucking them like a fruit. You gasp in surprise but Hyunjin only deepens the kiss, pressing his plump lips against yours, eager, ravenous. It’s like the world has stopped spinning, or perhaps it is only spinning faster, so fast you can’t see it. The book slips from between your fingers and falls on the ground with a faint thump, but you barely notice it. Your hands grab Hyunjin’s shirt, pulling him towards your body, kissing him back feverishly. 

His mouth embraces yours, his kisses ardent as he pushes you against the bookshelf, one of his hands on the small of your back, his fingers slightly digging into your skin. His other hand is in your hair, tousling your hair, sending blissful shivers throughout your body. He gasps for air, drinking you in, and you sigh from his absence. When his lips take yours once more, you graze them with your teeth, eliciting a muffled groan from him. He bucks his hips against you, like there aren’t any layers of clothes separating your skin, like he’s already deep inside of you, filling you to the brim. 

It’s alluring, it’s sinful. You’re dizzy and entranced, and you just want to rip his clothes off, witness his body, and let him ravish you. 

You shouldn’t. This is rushed, this is irresponsible. You should think things through, you should exert self-control. 

But you don’t. 

You bite his lip harder, and he stammers a moan inside your mouth. His fingers grip your waist harder, pushing hard in your skin. You roll your hips against him, panting against his mouth, feeling his hardening cock inside his jeans. 

“Hyunjin…” you whisper. 

“Fuck, this can’t be real,” he breathes, grabbing your face with both of his hands, his fingers desperately holding on to you.

His tongue slithers around yours, febrile. The sensation of his saliva blending with yours sends shockwaves all the way down to between your legs, and you have to squeeze your thighs together. You can feel it, you’re both too drunk to be able to make it last, to do it like you’d like to, to be reasonable about it. You can’t care about that right now. 

With nervous fingers, and between sloppy kisses, you unbutton each other’s jeans. He lowers yours, taking a long look at your panties, as you free his cock, stroking it in your palm. He throbs around your hand, leaking pre-cum. You push your underwear aside, your cunt a soaked mess, and help him align himself with your entrance. 

“Are you sure -” 

“Please,” you sigh. 

He buries himself inside of you, his cock stretching your walls. You let out a loud moan and wrap your arms around his neck for stability. Hyunjin breathes heavily in your neck, his lips feeling hot against your skin. 

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs. “I can’t believe I’m fucking you.” 

“Don’t stop, Hyunjin, please…” 

“Never.” 

He nearly removes himself from you, only to thrust his hips deeper. You whimper, holding his body close to yours. He starts to pound into you, almost frantically, but keeping his pelvis in perfect control so that his cock hits the right spots inside of you. Your pleasure builds so quickly you clench around him more tightly with every move, and Hyunjin cries out in your ear. 

As you feel yourself drift into your orgasm, your eyes roll back and you grip Hyunjin’s hair. You whimper his name as your body relinquishes control, and as you come around him, Hyunjin lets out a deep grunt and empties himself inside of you. You feel the thick spurts of his seed, you feel his body twitch, you feel his lips trembling. 

You breathe out, sweaty and shuddering against him. Hyunjin places a soft kiss on your collarbone and you shiver. It’s almost like you could blink and realize none of this has happened, that you have read the passage from the book and looked at him wishing he would kiss you. 

But this is real. This happened. 

You don’t know whether to tense or relax, so you stay frozen in place. You both stay like that, just breathing, giving time for reality to go back on its feet. Hyunjin leans back, his lips now a bright red. 

“Fuck. Sorry,” he mutters. “I made a mess.” 

“It’s all right,” you tell him softly. 

You keep your voices low like someone could hear you. Hyunjin steps back, watching as his cum slides down your inner thigh. He blushes violently, and you open your mouth to reassure him - but suddenly you have no idea what to say. 

“I’ll get you a towel. Hold on.” 

He puts his cock back inside his boxers and walks away, zipping up his jeans. You stay like that, feeling silly and cold. What the fuck just happened? You know what happened. You and Hyunjin just fucked like horny teenagers in a corner of the book café - no conversation, no protection. You’re not that worried about the latter part, you take the pill and you’ll get the necessary precautions, but it’s the fact that you have no idea what it means. Where it came from. It was so sudden, so passionate, so intense. Not that you need to define sex before you have it like it’s a contract with clauses, but it happened so quickly you’re dizzy and feel a little sick. 

You are drunk. That explains things. 

You are drunk and so attracted to Hyunjin he must have felt it. Not that he took advantage of you. But did he like you? Or was it just a spur of the moment thing? What did he say again? This can’t be real. Your mind spins into nothingness, your thoughts a tangled mess. 

Hyunjin reappears with a towel he soaked in warm water, and he hands it to you. You thank him with a smile, and seeing your hesitation, he steps away as you clean yourself up. Once your jeans are buttoned again, you tap his shoulder. 

“Thank you.”

“Sure.” 

He looks more beautiful than ever, but you can’t look at him.

He can’t look at you. 

Fuck. 

“I should head home,” you whisper. 

Hyunjin nods, his face hidden behind strands of ruffled hair. Hair the color of carefully made coffee. His eyes, too. Only his lips are the color of the sweetest cherries. 

“Of course, yeah. I should - I should do the same, yeah.” 

You both gather your things in silence, the tension almost unbearable. You feel like crying, and you know you should say something before it is too late, but you can’t gather the words, you can’t put them in the right order, and then you’re standing next to the door and you have to say goodbye. 

“Goodnight,” you say.

You gather the courage to look at him, but he’s not looking at you. He’s staring at his hands, at his shoes, at the floor. Anything but you. 

“Goodnight,” he answers. 

You step outside. The day has grown terribly, terribly cold.

The café will be closed today. Hyunjin made his decision hours ago. If anyone asks, it is for personal reasons. He does not want to see anyone today. 

It’s a boyish reaction but he does not care. 

He barely got any sleep, turning in his bed staring at the snow outside his window. He keeps wondering how you feel. What you think. If you got some sleep, or if you were like him, ripped open at the seams, waiting for a coup de grâce that would not come. When daylight starts to seep through his curtains, Hyunjin texts his employees, takes a long shower, and dresses in a large wool sweater and brown corduroy pants. 

He still goes to the café because there is no other place he can go. But he takes a piece of paper, writes a few words on it and places it on the front door. Closed exceptionally for today. 

Once that is done, Hyunjin lets out a long, shaky sigh and looks at the café. He opened this place more than five years ago and has worked nearly everyday in it since, but today it feels like an unfamiliar place. The walls, the chairs, the books, they all stare back at him. 

His legs take him to the Fiction aisle. It looks as it always does, and yet it’s thoroughly changed. On the ground is a book. Hyunjin picks it up with trembling hands. It’s fallen crooked, and some of the pages are creased. He presses his fingers on them, trying to flatten them out; but they are forever marked. 

As he is. 

Hyunjin breathes out. He wishes he could remember the passage you read to him. He looks through the book for a few minutes but he cannot, for the life of him, recall what the words were. Idiot. 

He closes his eyes. He still hears you breathe, how your voice slightly changed as you got tipsy. He sees the texture of your mint green blouse. Your smile as you took the clients’ orders. He feels your soft skin against his. Your cunt tightening around his cock. Fuck, you came so well. So fiercely. You looked so beautiful doing it, your eyes squinted shut, your lips deliciously parted, begging to be kissed. Hyunjin regrets. And yet he can’t. 

He should’ve been more in control. He should have taken the time to tell you what he wants, what he thinks of you. He nearly did, when he gave you the macaron and couldn’t take his eyes off your lips. But he had hesitated, overwhelmed by the past hours in such sudden close proximity with you. And then, when he didn’t hesitate, you kissed him back so eagerly and your body responded to his like you had been waiting for this too. Did you feel it, as he thrust into you, how much he wanted you? How captivating he thought you were, how you occupied his mind, how you were all he saw in this goddamn place and everywhere? 

Hyunjin slowly sits on the floor, his back to the wall, the book pressed against his chest. 

It was the wine. It was the exhaustion. It made him forget that he wanted, if he ever got the honor to touch you, to make it slow. He wanted to take you somewhere warm and comfortable, to undress you, to worship all the parts of you, to make you come around his mouth, to be both chaste and lewd, to see your smile, to hear you gasp. Instead it had been rushed, messy, and inevitably awkward. 

He felt you come. He is sure of it. But what if you didn’t like it? What if the awkwardness turned sour? What if you started to hate him for what happened? What if you never came back here again? That would be the worst of all. 

He knows what he should have said. Not people like you, but you. You made this place alive. 

Hyunjin breathes out, opens the book in his hands, and starts reading. 

He reads it again the next day.

And again the day after that.

You’re standing in the middle of a snow storm. 

It is not Wednesday and it is well past opening hours. Still, foolishly, you stare at the front door of the Evermore, as if you are expecting it to open. 

You stand there for a few minutes before you shake your head, letting out a shaky, bitter laugh. What are you waiting for? Why are you here? It’s late. It’s cold. The wind whistles in your ears and the snow will bury you if you do not move. You need to go home. 

You turn on your heels and stare up at the night sky. It isn’t dark, but rather a strange sort of milky, off white. A few snowflakes hit your eyes and you blink. You sit down on the pavement, letting your eyes fill with tears. 

It’s Wednesday night and you didn’t go to the café this afternoon. Instead you paced your apartment wondering if you should go. In the end you didn’t, terrified of what you might find in Hyunjin’s eyes. You regret it. At least you would have known. Now you can just sit here with an empty chest, wondering if he waited for you, wondering if he missed you, wondering if you ruined everything. 

Why didn’t you say something? Why didn’t you try harder?

You shake your head, letting your head fall in your hands. You’re so cold. You forgot to put on a hat and gloves. Your fingers and your ears are bright red. They are slowly freezing. Your heart, too. 

“Y/N?” 

You lift your head at the sound of Hyunjin’s voice. For a second you stare at the dark, wondering if you just imagined him calling your name. But then you turn your head and see him there, in the café, holding the door open. He seems as shocked to see you as you do him. 

“What are you doing here?” you breathe.

You’re sure he won’t hear you above the whistles of the wind, but he does.  

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

You stare at each other for a few seconds. Then Hyunjin frowns and waves towards the inside of the café. 

“Come in. You’re going to freeze to death.” 

You’re not sure it’s a good idea, and half of you is still wondering if he’s really there, but you stand up and follow him. He doesn’t comment on your visible tears, or your messy hair. He just closes the door behind you. It’s suddenly so silent. 

“It’s so late, Y/N, what are…” 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, your voice quivering.

Hyunjin looks up at you with wide eyes. There are barely any lights open in the cafe, but the full moon outside is enough for you to see him well. 

“It’s Wednesday,” you say. “I wanted to come but I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want to see me.” 

Hyunjin clenches his jaw, shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“Because…” You hesitate. “Because of what happened.” 

He looks up at you, prudently, and you stare into his eyes, trying to find an answer in them. He makes it difficult, or maybe it’s just your fear blurring the lines for you. Your lips are trembling, and as your fingers slowly warm up, they burn. 

“You’re shivering,” Hyunijn winces. “Let’s warm you up first. Take off your coat.” 

You nod, following him into the café, away from the cold windows. You leave your coat and boots near the entrance, and Hyunjin hands you a blanket to wrap yourself in. He disappears behind the counter, pouring water in a kettle, and you snuggle on an armchair. Hyunjin keeps his back to you as he prepares a cup of tea, only reappearing a few minutes later.

“Careful,” he warns you softly, settling the steaming mug on the table next to you. “Don’t burn your tongue.” 

“Thanks.” 

He turns away from you, and on an impulse, you grab the hem of his shirt. It’s a striped sweater vest, beige and navy, worn above a tight long-sleeve, and it feels soft against your fingers. 

“Hyunjin,” you whisper. “Can we talk?” 

He looks down at your hand. It takes a few seconds, but he smiles. 

“Of course we can. Just give me a second.” 

You nod, letting him go. He disappears for another minute - when he comes back, he’s holding a mug for himself and a lit candle. He puts it close to you. It smells like pinewood, and makes you feel like you’re standing in the middle of a forest. 

“I was reading,” he says, sitting down on a chair in front of you. “That’s what I was doing. I lost track of time, it seems.” 

You nod timidly. “I know what that’s like.” 

A sinking feeling settles in your stomach again. You can’t look at each other. You tell yourself it’s your only chance - you have to know where Hyunjin stands. So you take a deep breath and look up. 

As if he read your mind, he looks up too. 

Your eyes meet. They stay there. 

“I wanted you to,” he says softly. “Of course I wanted you to come.” 

Your heart contracts in your chest. 

“When you didn’t, I… I thought…” He stumbles on his words. “All I mean is, it’s okay if the other night didn’t mean anything for you.”

It’s sudden, and Hyunjin himself seems surprised by the words that just escaped his mouth, as his eyes slightly widen in panic. 

“What I mean is -” 

“It does,” you interrupt him.

He frowns, and you take a deep breath. 

“It does mean something,” you explain, doing your best to hold up his gaze. “I don’t know what exactly, but it does mean something.” 

You stare at him. 

“You just confuse me. Because I feel… all those things, and they’re so strong, and I feel… I don’t even know,” you sigh.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. You notice that his hands are grabbing the handles of the armchair tightly. His next words are measured, careful. 

“Y/N,” he breathes. “Can I please have a second chance?” 

It is so silent around you that you can hear your own heart beating. You can hear Hyunjin breathing. It’s a sweet, gentle sound. 

“Let me make it right,” he breathes, springing up from his seat to kneel next to you. 

He looks at you with wide, shimmering eyes. His beautiful lips are searching for the right words, with no avail. You extend a shivering hand, cupping his cheek nervously. He leans against it. 

“I’ve been craving you all week,” you whisper.

He opens his eyes, and you move from your position to kneel on the carpet next to him, the blanket forgotten behind you. You are not as cold anymore, your body warming in anticipation and desire. 

Your fingers trace Hyunijn’s jaw line, and he gently takes your face in his hands, caressing your skin. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You nod, closing your eyes as he leans in. 

It’s an entirely different kiss. It’s careful, delicate. You drift against him, falling in his arms - but your movements are slow, deliberate. He deepens the kiss as you tilt your head to the right, exploring the plumpness of his lips. You stay like that for an immeasurable amount of time, kissing and softly embracing each other, until you are out of breath and your lips feel raw. Then Hyunjin, putting a gentle hand against your neck, leans it backwards and starts to leave a trail of kisses down your jaw. His tongue swirls against the skin of your neck, all the way to your collarbones, and you arch against his caresses. 

You undress each other slowly. You take in the sight of his chiseled chest and smooth skin, which almost seems to glow in the light of the candle.  He spends a long time kissing your breasts, brushing his nose against your skin. You let out soft whimpers, your fingers tangling his chocolate hair, teasing his ears, stroking his neck. 

“Your skin is so cold,” he breathes, placing kisses against your arms, your fingers. 

His hands, sprawled on your stomach and hips, feel so incredibly warm. 

“I don’t feel cold,” you tell him with a smile. 

He smiles back, moving back on top of you to kiss you. You take the opportunity to unbutton his jeans and push them down, cupping his already hard cock in your hand. Hyunjin twitches slightly, letting out a nervous laugh against your mouth. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “You’re just… You make me go crazy, Y/N. You’re so fucking beautiful.” 

“So are you, Hyunjin,” you say, placing kisses on his lower lip, on his neck, on his shoulder. “When I’m here I can’t stop looking at you. When I’m not I can’t stop thinking about you.” 

“Fuck, right back at you,” he laughs, opening his eyes to look at you. 

He brushes a few strands of hair away from your face, smiling tenderly.

“You never noticed?” he asks you. “Me staring at you?” 

You shrug, playing with his hair. He looks so handsome, on top of you like that, the silver chain around his neck hanging loosely. 

“I guess I did sometimes. I just thought you found me weird. Like that day with the ice cubes…” 

His cock twitches in your hand and he chuckles embarrassingly. 

“Oh God, don’t talk about that day.” 

You don’t know what to say, but he smiles at you, his eyes a little darker.

“You made me so fucking horny that day I had to jerk off in the bathroom,” he explains, his voice hoarse. “I wanted to lick all that water off your body so bad…” 

It’s your turn to clench, and you bite your lip a little too violently. 

“You’re fucking with me,” you say, shaking your head.

���I’m not,” he answers, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I think about that day all the time. Imagining how sweet you taste.” 

His mouth goes up to your earlobe, which he takes in his mouth, sucking it in, and you let out an audible moan, pressing your thighs together and squeezing his cock in your hand at the same time. 

He hums, and stands back up to take off his jeans for good; he then removes your pants. Hyunjin immediately descends towards your legs, warming your thighs with his wide hands, and he slowly takes off your panties, discarding them with the rest of your clothes. 

You lay under him, completely naked, feeling safe. Hyunjin removes his boxers, and you see the full beauty of him, the angles of his hips, the curve of his cock. You take in the sight, and he does the same. Certainly your eyes must be as dizzy as his are. He tugs at his cock, biting his lip, and smiles at you. 

“Spread for me, beautiful.” 

You oblige, your pussy twitching as he stares down at you, his face contorted with lust. Hyunjin moves, settling his head between your legs. Your heartbeat accelerates as he kisses the insides of your thighs, slowly leading to your cunt. When he puts his plush lips against you, his tongue pressing against your wet folds, you gasp, your hips thrusting at the touch. 

“Hyunjin…” you cry out. 

He drinks you in, his tongue plunged into you. His caresses are attentive, and you’re never had someone eat you out this way before. It’s so measured and careful and yet so fervent, almost pious despite the sinfulness of the sound he makes against your cunt. It feels like he’s barely breathing, and you feel your entire body tense as he curls his tongue against your clit, teases your entrance, scoops your folds with his full lips. 

You grip the carpet, you shudder, and your orgasm is almost overwhelming. A loud moan escapes your mouth, and your legs shake, almost trapping him between them. When your body relaxes, and your thoughts wander away, you feel Hyunjin leaving kisses on your still trembling thighs. You open your eyes with difficulty, and discern him through the fog. He meets your gaze and smiles, his chin and lips coated in you. 

“Kiss me,” you plead, pulling him closer to you. 

His lips taste of you, of course, but it’s the feeling of his hardness against your still sensitive cunt that sends a shiver across your body. You’re barely recovering from your orgasm, trying to steady your breathing. Hyunjin strokes your hair. 

“I hope that was better,” he whispers. 

“Better?” you ask with a frown. 

“Than last time.” 

“Hyunjin…” you say softly. 

You open your eyes, taking his face in your hands so he looks at you, too. His hair is a mess, his lips swollen. 

“Last time was amazing,” you tell him. “It was quick, but it was good.” 

“It was?” he frowns. “I just thought…”

“I mean, it was for me,” you admit. “It was just another kind of sex, but I loved it. Didn’t you?” 

“Of course I did,” he says, kissing you softly. “I was just worried I ruined it by acting like a horny teenager.” 

“We both acted like horny teenagers,” you chuckle. “It’s okay. I got scared too. I guess it just… made us crave for more.” 

He nods, smiling at you. 

“Like I haven’t wanted to drown in that pussy for months.” 

“Hyunjin!” you cry out with a laugh. 

He chuckles, and you feel recovered enough, so you sit up slightly, pushing his chest forward. 

“Which makes me think,” you smirk. “There’s also something I’ve wanted to do for months. Sit down.” 

You guide him towards the armchair, where he takes a seat, staring at you intently. It’s like he doesn’t want to waste a second looking at something else, and you kneel between his legs, leaning forward to kiss his chest. 

His cock doesn’t really need your hand to stand on its own, but you still hold it, your fingers gently stroking its base. 

“You don’t have to -” 

“I want to,” you tell him. “Don’t you?” 

“Is it too intense to say I’ve dreamt about this before?” 

You blush a little and place a kiss on the tip of his cock. 

“No. I like it.” 

Hyunjin smirks, gathering your hair between his long fingers to hold it back from your face. You place your other hand on his thigh, and take him in your mouth. You go as low as you can, swirling your tongue around the length at the same time. As you go back up, you hollow your cheeks a little.  

Hyunjin lets out a deep groan, his head falling backwards on the armchair. As you keep bobbing your head around his cock, spit and precum making the act a little sloppy, you look up at him. You could draw each vein in his muscled neck from here. It sends a shiver down to your cunt, and you just have to touch yourself, putting pressure against your swollen clit. 

You listen to his breathing, loving how his fingers sometimes pull at your hair a little as he tenses. He bucks his hips sometimes, making you take him deeper in your mouth. You don’t mind - you do your best. He’s making such lewd sounds, moaning your name, and perhaps you’re liking this a little too much. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he hisses as you accelerate your movements. “Stop, stop, please.” 

You remove him from between your lips, and he lets out a chuckle. He looks like he can barely keep his eyes open, his forehead covered in a thin layer of sweat. 

“I just - you’re going to make me come, and I want to make this last.” 

You place a gentle kiss on his cock. “But I like doing this,” you pout. 

Hyunjin lets out a low laugh, placing a finger under your chin to lift your face towards his. He gives you a slow kiss, his tongue toying with yours. 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you touching yourself there,” he whispers. “The sight alone could make me blow on the spot.” 

“Then I won’t do it again,” you tease.

“I’ll never forgive you if you don’t,” he retorts with a smirk. 

He plunges his lips against yours, moving back on the carpet next to you. His warm, long fingers cup your ass, and then slide against your wet folds before he applies sweet pressure. You gasp around his lips, rolling your hips to reach for more. Hyunjin smiles but does not say a thing - he just keeps going, and then pushes two of his fingers inside of you. 

“Yes,” you moan, feeling him stretch you. 

“So warm,” he whispers. “So tight for me. Fuck, so beautiful.” 

“Give me more of you, please,” you breathe. 

He starts to fuck you with his fingers, adding another after a few seconds, and you shudder against him. He reaches deep inside of you, and while it’s a delightful sensation, you still want more. 

“No,” you whisper. “I want you inside of me.” 

He nods, removing his fingers, licking them clean around his tongue. He accompanies you as you lay down against the carpet, a hand against your back. You keep your eyes in his, kept there by an invisible pull, as the tip of his cock brushes against your cunt. You sigh, your hands reaching for him, pushing your fingers in his soft hair. 

Hyunjin enters you with a shuddering moan, and he does not stop until he reaches the furthest he can go. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and you let out a soft cry. He feels so good inside of you, both lean and hard. 

“My beauty,” he whispers in your ear. “Feels so good around me. I’m gonna go slow, I need to feel every inch of you.” 

His thrusts are so slow at first it feels like torture of the sweetest kind. You keep arching your back, begging for more, but at the same time it feels so good, so intimate, you can only enjoy every second. Hyunjin fucks you like he’s writing lines of poetry, like he’s making coffee one drip at a time, like he traces intricate patterns in foamy cream. 

“I think you were made for me,” he groans. “Or rather, I was made for you.” 

You shudder at his words. “Don’t let me go, please. Not ever.” 

He keeps whispering things in your ear, things that make sense, things that don’t, and you let him know how he makes you feel, how a part of you lives in him, in this place that is him. Your voices belong to the both of you, to none of the rest. 

After a while his thrusts gain in intensity, and you sit up slightly so that you face him, almost sitting on the carpet with him inside of you. The new position allows him to reach new depth, and the feeling of his cock throbbing inside of you, begging to come undone, sends you into a second orgasm. He growls as you clench, shaking his head, sweat pearling on his lips, and you kiss them again and again. You’re lost in pleasure, Hyunjin dancing into you.

He comes not long after, holding you close to him, your forehead against his. You wish you could bottle up every sound he makes, every single breath that escapes his lips, keep it for later. You just listen to them, their memories safely kept in your very heartbeat. 

“I love you,” Hyunjin whispers. 

It comes out of nowhere and it doesn’t - it really doesn’t. 

You smile, grazing your nose against his. 

“I love you, too.”

“Hyunjin.” 

He blinks at the sound of his name, turning towards Jeongin, who is smiling politely at him. 

“Your friend’s here.” 

He nods towards the other end of the counter where Seungmin stands, giving him a wave. Hyunjin smiles back, lifting a finger to tell his friend he’ll be there in a minute. Seungmin nods back and heads towards the tables, taking a seat. 

Hyunjin prepares two cups of coffee, then takes off his apron and meets Seungmin at the table. 

“Thanks for coming, man,” Hyunjin says, taking a seat with a sigh. “I know the café isn’t exactly in your way.” 

“That’s fine,” Seungmin answers. “I get free coffee, don’t I?” 

“That’s true,” Hyunjin smiles. 

“But you work too much, man. You’re here almost every day.” 

Hyunjin nods - everyone says that to him all the time. He’s aware of it. But his whole life is the café. He would be nothing without it, and there’s rarely a day he actually forces himself to come to work. 

“What can I tell you?” he sighs with a shrug. “I like it.” 

Seungmin shakes his head. “I like my job, too, but everyone needs a few days off. Don’t forget there’s a world out there.” 

“You sound like you’re going to tell me I need to broaden my horizons, live a little, get laid.” 

Seungmin scoffs, taking a sip of coffee. “Well, you do.” 

“Next you’ll tell me you know someone I’d like, and you can introduce us?” 

“Well…”

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin chuckles. 

The latter laughs, putting down his cup and crossing a leg over the other. He looks relaxed, almost detached, but Hyunjin knows him well enough. Seungmin always cares. Hyunjin bites his lip, tapping a finger on his leg. Then, he leans forward, his elbows on the table, and smiles at his friend. 

“She’s back.” 

“Who?” 

“Y’know.” 

Understanding flashes in Seungmin’s eyes. “Ice cube girl?” 

“Hm.” 

Hyunjin told Seungmin about you one drunken night. The two friends were inside a pub, hidden away in a booth, exchanging stories. Seungmin, who had just recently started going out with his girlfriend, started talking about sex. So Hyunjin told him about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. You, with the ice cubes. 

“Oh.” Seungmin grins, looking around. “Does she still come every week?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I think she has a crush on you, man.” 

Hyunjin smirks. “I think so, too.”

He can’t help it - he glances at you, who is sitting at your usual table. You’re sipping a simple black coffee, half of an espresso macaron still on your plate. You’re wearing Hyunjin’s favorite sweater, the apricot colored one. 

He chose it himself from your closet this morning. Seungmin follows his gaze, and as you feel the two pairs of eyes on you, you lift your head and smile at them. Seungmin waves back, inviting you to join them. You do, Hyunjin holding your hand tightly in his own. 

Outside the snow melts under a clear sun, giving way to a hopeful spring.

“Thank you, Mr. Rochester, for your great kindness. I am strangely glad to get back again to you: and wherever you are is my home — my only home.”  — charlotte brontë

• permanent taglist: @ughbehavior ; @upallnight-s ; @changbinluvr ; @rosexjimin ; @nasiaisan ; @lotus-dly ; @cb97percent ; @j-0ne25 ; @hwan-g ; @jhopesucker ; @tanyas97 ; @raspbinniecreme ; @septicrebel ; @imtoooyoungforthisshit ; @sikebishes ; @sai-kida134 ; @sstarryoong ; @oxviolentheartxo (i'm unable to tag you sorry)

[mysticbewitched]

My Beliefs Have Evolved..

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▪︎ I'm about to piss off some popular bloggers & start a major fire in this community.

{ Lights, Camera, Action.}

A serious epiphany hit me hard out of nowhere as I was wandering through some of my old posts way back when I first started this blog. As I was reading through some of my old writings from my former posts, I realized that I held certain beliefs at those times that no longer resonate with me anymore.

I did not realize at the time, but I took some teachings of things from Neville in a *literal manner* that were never supposed to be taken in that way and some aspects of my understanding of the law of consciousness were completely distorted due to the ridiculous amount of ignorant misinformation and misinterpretations flooding through tumblr.

I admit that in the beginning, I was one of the ignorant ones, and it was because of all the information you're constantly seeing spread around like chaotic wildfire in this community.

It clearly warped my understanding and I thought I finally had Neville's teachings all figured out.

Let me tell you, I was beyond wrong.

Recently, I had discovered that I've been missing the main puzzle piece: the entire source of the law of consciousness.

For that reason alone, I want everyone to know that I will most definitely be revamping and transforming quite a lot of my older posts to reflect my newer, evolved beliefs to reflect the philosophy of nondualism.

Now before you start stressing out, I want to explain to you that Neville Goddard was actually teaching nondualism at the core of his teachings, which a lot of people wrongly mistake as something separate or completely different from the law of consciousness.

They could not be more mistaken, and they simply do not understand it. The law of consciousness is the expression of nondualism at its core.

I'm here to tell you that they are the exact same philosophy with different delivery. That is truthfully what Neville was teaching about all this time.

Now whether or not you believe in nondualism, that's entirely up to you, and you are free to believe whatever you wish. - I just want you to truly understand and realize that Neville Goddard was, in fact, truly teaching nondualism.

Admittedly, Neville did start off his teachings with some limiting beliefs, but he eventually evolved in his beliefs and his teachings after he experienced the promise.

The law of consciousness is just a name for the physical expression of nondualism's philosophy. Simple as that.

For everyone who is here for the "law of assumption" and you are being led to believe that you are somehow separate from your own reality, or the law of consciousness is a law "operating outside of you"- you are seriously not being taught the law of consciousness in the way that Neville Goddard actually intended for you to understand the whole core his teachings.

*Your understanding of the law is being warped and twisted out of shape because of all the countless amounts of misinformation.*

Neville Goddard and Alan Watts both taught nondualism at its core. However, their styles of teaching were different from the other, and they were focused on different aspects of nondualism.

Neville focused his teachings on the true operation of the law of consciousness shaping our own lives from within us for his listeners to understand how to consciously create their own realities while Alan Watts' teachings were more centered around our true self as unmatched, infinite awareness and how we as awareness are the original source of the universe experiencing the physical expression of itself.

Nondualism is all about oneness and unity, not separation.

All the total bullshit you hear these days coming from the most popular bloggers in this community about: "The 4D vs. The 3D", "The 3D conforming to your desires", or "The 4D is more real than the 3D" -

Blah, blah, blah.

Throw all of that shit out of the door.

All of that implies separation. There is no separation.

You are the prime *source of all creation* and one with all. This is what true nondualism is all about.

You are source of the universe.

You are God of your own reality and all things come from *within.*

All comes from within. This is the core of nondualism: absolute oneness and unity.

You are one with your reality.

Consciousness is the only reality.

"All things come from within; nothing comes from without-" - Neville Goddard

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A lot of my former beliefs were about:

▪︎ The "3D conforming" - That's a huge no, no. There is no damn "conforming" going on, and I will explain all about that in another post. "Conforming" implies separation, and there is absolutely no separation. You and your reality are *one*. Simple as that.

▪︎ Taking Neville's whole "mirror" comparison in a literal manner to imply separation between imagination and reality.

Guess what? That teaching from Neville was *never* meant to be taken as literal.

I'll say it louder for the people in the back this time. There is absolutely *no* separation. Your reality "mirrors" your state of mind because there is no separation between you and your reality.

You can thank the ridiculous flood of popularized misinformation flowing through this platform for making me think there was some sort of invisible, barrier between imagination and reality that performed as a literal mirror in action.

What the hell was I thinking? Most definitely not. Those former beliefs of mine are history and deep in the trash where they belong.

▪︎ Focusing on the "time" with manifestations:

I actually now feel as if focusing your attention on the "time" implies a lack mindset because you're just supposed to focus on enjoying already having your desires in the present moment.

"Time" does not matter.

Stressing out and worrying about the "time" is a strong indicator of a victimhood mindset, and I only want to empower my followers to step into their power and change their mindset to manifest their dreams.

I firmly believe that the more confidence in yourself and your own ability to manifest, the less "time" it takes for the physical manifestation of your desire to be expressed in your reality.

▪︎ Thinking as if the "law of assumption" was a law that was somehow operating outside of us. -

Oh, hell no, it's not. Not even close.

The law of consciousness is *you*.

Everything is coming from within you.

You are the *infinite source of all creation.*

It's simply a beautiful and freeing realization.

Free yourself from the chains of misinformation.

▪︎ { I will be doing a post sometime to explain nondualism in greater detail and how it is actually about the true nature of the law of consciousness under a different name and form of delivery. }

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None of the former beliefs reflect my views anymore, and people who are still following these beliefs are only overcomplicating and distorting their understanding of Neville's teachings about the law of consciousness.

I resonate far deeper with the true intended teachings of nondualism from Neville and Alan Watts compared to the popular ways that people are trying to teach "law of assumption" these days on here.

I'm just not having it, chief.

I have stepped away and opened my eyes. I am on the outside looking in and I am now seeing just how much distorted misinformation are being blindly accepted as the end-all and be-all from even most of the Neville inspired blogs.

The teachings from Neville in this modern community are incredibly warped and distorted. These people just don't get it, man and I remember being in the exact same position, myself.

I shake my head when I think about the old, ignorant version of myself. I really thought I had it all figured out and I was missing the main piece of the puzzle the whole entire time to tie everything together.

It is now safe for me to say that I have definitely strayed far away from the distorted misconceptions and "popular" ways a lot of bloggers are trying to teach "law of assumption" these days. I'm just not having it, man. The ignorance is unbearable.

*Knowledge is power* and you want to make sure that you are being exposed to the right information from others that will simplify everything and actually help you achieve success on your manifestation journey.

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[isahorcrux]

In light of the recent announcement of the Harry Potter TV Show and the fact that this is primarily a Harry Potter fan fiction blog, the below needs to be said.

I am not excited about this show.

If you told my past self 5 years ago this, I’d be shocked.  Five years ago, if they announced a Harry Potter TV show I’d be doing everything in my power to be involved some way or another.  However, in the last five years JKR has shown her true colors and spent her free time and money attacking the trans community.  There are many reasons why I’m not excited about the show or looking forward to it in any regard, but to me the most important is that this show gives JKR more money and cultural capital to further her anti-trans agenda.  This is unacceptable.

I think a lot of us raised on Harry Potter really wanted to separate the art from the artist, dive further into fanfic and fandom and just ignore that the woman who created a world in which we’ve spent most of our lives escaping into.  However, we can’t do that.  It’s come to my attention over the past few days that a lot of people aren’t even aware of the active harm JKR is doing to the trans community.  Most people just say, ‘oh she said some weird stuff on twitter’ right?

Well, yeah.  But, did you also know she launched an active campaign against a reform bill that made it easier for trans people to legally change gender?  You know what happened?  The UK blocked that Bill and Scotland now has to launch a legal challenge to the government block.  She’s also funding a Sex Abuse Crisis Center that excludes trans women.  Yeah, that’s right.  She’s using her money from a book about love and acceptance to actively exclude a marginalized group from a crisis center.  She’s also publicly admitted via twitter that she funds anti-LGBTQ political activity in the UK.

So yeah, there’s a direct line of fans supporting official trademarked Harry Potter anything and that money directly harming transpeople.  Sorry for that rude awakening, but some of y’all are doing backflips to avoid seeing this.

Now, is there a way to prevent Warner Brothers (and Max, lol) from making this show?  Probably not?  After mergers and at a point when the tv and film industry isn’t booming, they need money.  You know what makes money?  Harry Potter.  Which is why they’re rebooting it.  Another question that’s been raised, will the looming writer’s strike affect this?  I would guess probably not?  Most UK writers (and International writers at large) are not in the WGA.  JKR has always wanted the most amount of British people involved in Harry Potter adaptations, so they’ll use the strike to find a UK writer and get them to work.

So what can we do?

Don’t watch the show.  Or, if you do.  Pirate it. In fact, cancel your Max subscription before the show launches.

They’re going to spend A LOT of money on this.  If the numbers aren’t there for them they will do what every other streamer does with an unsuccessful show and cancel it.  They announced 5 Fantastic Beast movies, and yet...where’s that last one?

Anyway, thanks for reading this whole thing if you’ve gotten this far.  Please share with friends who are excited about the show.  Please engage in meaningful discussions with other Potter fans.  Please support our trans friends and strangers.

Once again, this blog says FUCK JKR.

[cfiesler]

Elon Musk did not create an AI trained on your fanfiction.

Hi, AI ethicist + fanfiction expert here. (This is one of those times where I feel uniquely qualified to comment on something...)

I’m seeing this weird game of telephone about the Sudowrite AI that I think started out pretty accurate, but now has become “Elon Musk created an AI that is stealing your fanfiction” (which frankly gives him far too much credit). I can probably say more about this, but here are a few things that I want to clarify for folks, which can be boiled down to “Elon Musk has nothing to do with this” and “this is nothing new”: Elon Musk is not involved in any way with Sudowrite, as far as I can tell. Sudowrite does, however, use GPT-3, the widely-used large language model created by OpenAI, which Elon Musk co-founded. He resigned in 2018, citing a conflict of interest due to Tesla’s AI development. It wasn’t until after he left that OpenAI went from being a non-profit to a capped for-profit. Elon Musk doesn’t have anything to do with OpenAI currently (and in fact just cut off their access to Twitter data), though I can’t find anything that confirms whether or not he might have shares in the company. I would also be shocked if Elon actually contributed anything but money to the development of GPT-3.

Based on Sudowrite’s description on their FAQ, they are not collecting any training data themselves - they’re just using GPT-3 paired with their own proprietary narrative model.  And GPT-3 is trained on datasets like common crawl and webtext, which can simplistically be described as “scraping the whole internet.” Same as their DALL-E art generator. So it’s not surprising that AO3 would be in that dataset, along with everything else (e.g., Tumblr posts, blogs, news articles, all the words people write online) that doesn’t use technical means to prohibit scraping. 

OpenAI does make money now, including from companies like Sudowrite paying for access to GPT-3. And Sudowrite itself is a paid service. So yes, someone is profiting from its use (though OpenAI is capped at no more than 100% return on investment) and I think that the conversations about art (whether visual or text) being used to train these models without consent of the artist are important conversations to be having.

I think it’s possible that what OpenAI is doing is legal (i.e., not copyright infringement) for some of the same reasons that fanfiction is legal (or perhaps more accurately, for reasons that many for-profit remixes are found to be fair use), but I think whether it’s ETHICAL is a completely different question, and I’ve seen a huge amount of disagreement on this.

But the last thing I will say is that this is nothing new. GPT-3 has been around for years and it’s not even the first OpenAI product to have used content scraped from the web.

[pandoraslxna]

Hi everyone.

As you all know, I’m usually not the kind of person to address these things publicly, but there is a situation going on that leaves me with no choice but to speak up about it. I‘m deeply sorry for disrupting the peace that I tried to maintain on my blog by bringing unnecessary and childish drama on here and I hope that I will only have to speak up about it once. Writing this down already makes me feel so stupid, but I just can’t keep ignoring this, hoping it will eventually get better, when I know it won’t unless I share my side of the story.

Last week it was bought to my attention that @teyamshuman had updated her blog to make it look extremely similar to mine. And I’m not just talking about a few similarities by taking inspiration, I’m talking about a direct copy of my layout, navigation, masterlist, guidelines and even my about me post.

I’ve put them side by side as demonstration:

While I tried to think of it as a compliment, it still bothered me to see someone else basically copying me and all the hard work I’ve put into creating my blog and my layout, which is why I decided to reach out to her. I tried to approach this as respectfully as possible, even asked my friends for advice because I didn’t want to come across as rude or entitled and explained my feelings about this to her.

Here are our conversations:

While she agreed to change it up, it took her almost a day and barely any changes were made. I had to explain to her again and in detail what exactly was bothering me, but I continued to be respectful and kind. A day later there were still some major similarities on her blog, and I was honestly running out of patience. I still didn’t want to make a big deal out of this so I simply decided to block her for my own peace of mind and also because I didn’t feel like checking her blog every other day to check if she had changed anything or maybe even copied me again —which is a valid fear and I’m fully standing behind my own feelings and won’t apologize for them.

Only then did @teyamshuman change her blog theme enough that there was barely any resemblance to mine. She then decided to reach out to my friends and sent some of her moots to try and talk to me / ask if I can unblock her / telling me she wants to talk and apologize, etc. I choose to ignore this because my decision was already made and I was honestly annoyed by the fact that she only made those changes on her blog after I decided to block her.

Now to the main reason why I am even making this post.

After this, the following days my inbox kept filling itself with weird, rude and straight up hateful asks that were seemingly coming out of nowhere. I got suspicious but thought nothing of it, since I don’t take bullying to heart, especially not by someone hiding behind the anon button. It was then bought to my attention that @teyamshuman, who had by then blocked me as well so I couldn’t see her posts myself, published several asks of stories about me being rude and straight up toxic to others. Some of these asks even included the names of my close friends that had absolutely nothing to do with this whole situation. In her responses to these asks it seemed like she was agreeing to everything that was shared about me, some of these asks also contained misinformations and descriptions of situations that were completely out of context. This all reached a point where suddenly people were bragging to her about reporting my blog and simply stating that they now hate me after whatever she had told them about me.

The asks she responded to:

Unfortunately that is not all.

Apparently, @teyamshuman has at some point decided to stop sharing these asks, yet that didn’t change what was already done. I tried to be the bigger person in this and just continue to ignore her, especially since she told these people to leave me be, but my inbox still fills itself with hateful asks, even death threats and people straight up asking me if I’m the blog everyone is talking about / if I am "that toxic writer."

These are just some of the asks I’ve received, because I’ve immediately deleted most of them when they first started coming in. Sadly there are more and more coming every day.

While everyone is free to have their own opinion and I, by all means, can’t and won’t force anyone to like me, seeing these things about myself really hurt. I‘m trying so hard to be nice and respectful on here, even if I don’t get the same treatment in return, and I simply choose to ignore so many things that are being said to me and the way I’m treated by some people, yet the one time I decided to speak up for myself and address something that made me uncomfortable, this is the outcome.

What genuinely confuses me up to this point is that this whole situation has taken a turn where I feel like I did something wrong, when all I did was try to protect my peace and express my feelings after someone made me uncomfortable. It was never my intention to come across as rude or passive aggressive while doing so.

Now with that being said, I hope everyone is now able to see this from my point of view and make their own opinion about it. I also hope that the people behind these asks will reflect themselves and realize that what they’re doing is not okay.

Lastly I want to remind you all that this will continue to stay a safe place for everyone and I’m not trying to cause drama over something so silly, something that could’ve been handled so much better, so please don’t send any hate, threats or rude messages to anyone involved in this. This post isn’t meant as an attack against anyone, it’s meant to protect myself and bring peace.

Thank you.

[the-smut-analyst]

Making Characters That Make Sense

Walk-through character template & "how to" guide for writing complex, original protagonists.

If you google "character templates for writing", you'll get a lot of very basic examples that read like a grocery list: eye colour, hair colour, skin colour, positive traits, negative traits, etc.

And sure, filling out this kind of template isn't completely useless - but it's also not particularly useful, either. Choosing whether your protagonist has blue eyes or green eyes isn't going to determine whether readers connect with them or not.

Instead, I prefer to use the below template:

There's some fairly left-of-centre categories here, so in this blog post I'll be creating a character from scratch to demonstrate what each section means and how to use the template effectively.

Primary Goal & Raison D'Être

Fantasy Romance is having a bit of a tournament-to-the-death moment right now, with Hunger Games-inspired stories like Fourth Wing, Throne of Glass, The Savior's Champion, and The Serpent and the Wings of Night in high demand - so that's what we're going to work with in today's blog post.

The story premise and primary goal of the protagonist are almost always interconnected. In this case, the story premise is a tournament to the death - and the character's main goal is to win that tournament, obviously.

But where there's room for some originality is in the raison d'être. This loosely translates to "reason for being" or "purpose". It's the why of it.

For example: what motivated this character to risk their life by entering such a tournament in the first place?

It is sometimes helpful to look at similar stories when thinking about this category. Not so you can copy their protagonist's motivations - but so you can do something different.

The whole selfless-self-sacrifice thing, for example - that's done. At least in relation to this particular sub-genre. We can do better for our hypothetical Maera Mystfang character.

Actually, let's really turn the trope on its head and make her raison d'être incredibly self-centred.

Already, this is character is shaping up to be something a little bit different within the niche of tournaments to the death. Which goes to show how putting a little bit of thought can go a long way, even with something as simple as identifying your character's initial purpose.

Primary Obstacle

Every protagonist needs a goal - and every goal needs an obstacle. This is what gives the story some tension and keeps readers turning the page.

An obvious choice of obstacle for this hypothetical character, since we're dealing with a fantasy romance, would be that Maera starts to develop feelings for one of her fellow competitors.

This concept has definitely been done, but that's okay. Not every section of this list has to break the mould. Tropes exist for a reason and it is totally okay to lean into them sometimes.

However, just for funsies, I'm going to try and put a slightly different spin on this one too.

Instead of the obvious "I love one of the people I'm meant to kill", let's make Maera's (previously dormant) conscience be the problem. Her reasons for entering the tournament may have been self-motivated, but as she gets to know her fellow competitors - admires some of them, even - she starts to second guess those reasons.

Core Traits

A lot of character templates will divide personality traits into positives and negatives - but I don't think this is particularly helpful. It is far too one dimensional - not to mention unrealistic. The key components of someone's personality aren't usually so black and white.

In fact, most core traits are both good and bad at the same time - it just depends on the context.

Instead of being wholly positive or negative, try to think of three core character traits that can serve as two sides of the same coin, with both positive and negative implications to each.

For Maera, I've given her these core traits:

Self-reliant;

Rebellious; and

Good-humoured.

Her self-reliance means that she is incredibly capable - but it's also the cause of her selfishness. She's always had to look after herself, so she expects others to do the same.

Her rebellious attitude means she isn't willing to accept the status quo. But at times she is also a rebel without a cause, causing trouble just for the fun of it.

Her good sense of humour means she is fun to be around, but she also tends to not take things as seriously as she should.

Thinking of core traits in this multi-faceted way not only adds realistic complexity, but it also sets you up well for showcasing character development and growth throughout the story.

Fatal Flaw & Character Arc / Growth

You've probably read negative reviews that throw around terms like "Mary Sue" or "Gary Stu". People tend to be over-zealous with these terms, especially for Mary Sue, but the gist of it is that the character in question is "too perfect".

They're the chosen one, they're good at everything, all the boys like them, etc.

Some characters can get away with this just fine. Look at Aragorn. He's the ultimate Gary Stu but I still swoon every time he opens those damn doors. You know the scene I'm talking about.

Ooft.

But for the most part, you want to incorporate a fatal flaw into your protagonists - because this is what gives them room to grow.

And, no. "I was born to be King but I don't wanna" does not count as a fatal flaw.

Instead, think bigger. Think worse. Think about where your character starts versus where you want them to end up. Think about how you want the events of the narrative to change their world view - or even their initial goal.

For Maera, her fatal flaw is pretty obvious, given her initial motivations for entering the tournament. Similarly, her growth/arc is linked to her primary obstacle, which is developing a conscious.

Her journey throughout this hypothetical story might be learning to appreciate how her past shaped her, while also acknowledging that there are things she can do to ensure others don't have to go through what she did. By being shown acts of kindness, she learns to appreciate their value.

First Impression

Now that we've covered all the "big picture" stuff, let's get into some of the smaller details that give your character some texture.

The first impression category is a hypothetical exercise where you image how your character might appear to a room full of strangers. In dual, multi, or omniscient POVs, you might even get the opportunity to include this impression somewhere in the story.

But even for first-person narratives, it is still worth thinking about, because it will help to inform how other characters interact and respond to your protagonist (at least at first).

For Maera, I've written this first impression as: a fun person to have a few drinks with - so long as you keep a close eye on your wallet.

From this description, we can guess that Maera probably likes to have a good time, but also comes across as untrustworthy. Whether that impression is deserved or not is up to you, as the author, to decide.

There's also a lot of deeper directions you can take this first impression category, too. Like if most people react to Maera this way, but one particular character doesn't, then your readers are going to sit up and pay extra attention during that interaction. Especially when that person reacting atypically is the future love interest.

Spirit Animal

Ah, this one is a fun one!

I always encourage my authors to assign a "spirit animal" to their characters - especially when they're doing multi-POV.

There are two main reasons for this:

It will allow you to assign some very distinct adjectives and verbs with that particular character; and

It is an opportunity to flesh out some additional character traits beyond the core traits.

For Maera, I've chosen "spider" because she is solitary by nature, opportunistic, and patient.

But, more than that, I also like the idea of Maera being the kind of person who knows how to watch and wait. While her first impression might be "here for the good times", her joking façade is actually a mask she wears while carefully observing others.

For example:

Her words were laced with venom. She crawled her way across the rooftop. At some point, weaving lies had become more of a past time that a necessity. Her thoughts were a tangled mess. She didn't bother to conceal her predatory gaze. Inch by cautious inch, she crept forward. Her sanity was already hanging by a thread. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was spin a good story - truth be damned.

I've never outright compared Maera to a spider in these examples, nor have I made it blatantly obvious that that's what I'm doing. But by peppering these kinds or words throughout the story, I'll be able to subtly create a very distinct kind of impression for her character.

For comparison's sake, let's assign "cat" to the love interest. Examples of possible words to consider in this instance might be:

He clawed his way through the bushes. "What are you doing?" he hissed. The comment had some bite to it, that was for sure. He slunk away into the darkness. His still, unwavering focus was unnerving. He prowled towards her. In a few quick, agile steps, he'd made it across the parapet. He yawned and stretched out beside her.

Of course, not every single word you use in association with a character needs to be related to their spirit animal. But keeping a certain type of animal in mind - and finding opportunities to throw in some subtle messaging through language choice - can be beneficial on so many levels.

It helps to distinguish your characters from one another through the kind of language you use to describe them - but it's also just really, really fun way to add some bonus texture to your characters. Giving your readers some little easter eggs like this is never a bad thing.

Love Language

If you're unfamiliar with the concept of the five basic love languages, then here's a quick visual overview:

Love languages aren't a consideration that's specific to romance. They're important for friendships and familial relationships too.

Because thinking about what your protagonist values most in love is going to tell you a lot about who they are. Especially when you take the question deeper and think about why this is something they value.

For Maera, I've chosen "Acts of Service" because this ties in quite well to her character arc.

In terms of Maera's why, I could easily go with "because this was how she was shown love as a child" - and this is a good enough option most of the time. However, since her love language is very much tied into growing out of her fatal flaw, then I actually want to do the opposite.

Maera winds up valuing acts of service because this is something she craved - and wasn't given - as a child. She had to do things the hard way instead. Hence why she ends up appreciating the kindness of others so much. Such generosity is new to her - and precious.

Conflict Response

This is potentially one of the most overlooked character components. Conflict and tension is central to story telling, yet there is so little attention given to creating authentic, original responses to conflict.

The way I see it, there are three main considerations in regards to conflict response:

How your character reacts in the moment;

The unhealthy methods they use to deal with the aftermath; and

The healthy methods they use (or discover) to self-sooth.

When faced with conflict, Maera's immediate reaction is to antagonise. She doesn't like to back down and enjoys creating trouble.

However, in the aftermath, the conflict affects her more than she lets on. She stews on it - and her solution to that is to get drunk until she can forget about it completely.

But even though she sometimes forgets it, Maera has a more healthy coping mechanism at her disposal. When she is surrounded by nature - in the forest, by the sea, whatever - it calms her.

In addition to identifying your protagonist's various responses to conflict, it is also helpful to think about why. Again, this is a great opportunity to insert something unique into their character backstory.

With Maera, for example, let's think about why she finds nature so soothing. Perhaps, amidst a very bleak childhood, one of her fondest memories is of picking grapes in a vineyard.

Perhaps the elderly woman who owned the vineyard was very rude and abrupt - but also quite kind to Maera in her own way. Maybe she would sometimes stitch up Maera's clothes or feed Maera a hearty, meaty dinner - even though she didn't have to.

If you're struggling to think of a real, tangible, unique memory such as this - then it's always helpful to go back to the old classic of write what you know. Think of a real life moment or memory - something that's stuck with you, no matter how simple - then adapt it to your character.

To create this vineyard example, I simply drew on my experience of picking strawberries with my Nonna after school.

Mentor / Idol

I could write an entire thesis on mentors. Or, more specifically, the "death of the mentor" trope - both in its literal and metaphorical interpretations.

But, for the sake of brevity, let's save that sh*t for another time and focus on what's important for a basic (yet complex) character template. And that is:

The Formative Mentor (past); and

Transformative Mentor (present).

The formative mentor (or idol) is someone who influenced your character prior to the events of the novel. Sometimes they're a character the reader will meet, or other times, they're long gone before the novel even begins.

The transformative mentor is a much looser term. It doesn't necessarily have to be a traditional mentor character, but rather it is a character who heavily influences or changes your protagonist throughout the events of the novel.

For Maera, I want her earliest idol to be a random female sell-sword who she crossed paths with. Prior to meeting this sell-sword, Maera was living without hope for a future, surviving on scraps and petty crime.

But after seeing an independent and moderately wealthy sell-sword in her local tavern, Maera got a glimpse into the kind of life that might be possible if she learned to fight. With the right kind of skills, she might be able to earn some decent money for a change - and travel the world.

This is an example of how "mentors" don't always have to be a wise wizard who oversees your protagonist's training and education. Young minds are impressionable - and even distant figures can have a lasting impact.

Just look at all the women who cite Legally Blonde as the reason why they were drawn to law. Elle Woods wasn't even real - but for plenty of young girls, she made an impact.

Similarly, your protagonist's "present" mentor or idol doesn't necessarily have to be a wise wizard either. It can simply be someone who motivates them to change their world view or strive to be better.

In romance, it is more than acceptable to have the present mentor coincide with the love interest - especially in standalone enemies-to-lovers. I know this seems counter-intuitive, since the word "mentor" implies a power imbalance, but it makes more sense if you readjust your definition of mentor to be "inspires change".

However, for Maera, I kind of like the idea of pairing her up with a love interest who shares some of her flaws. I vibe with the idea of making him a bit self-interested too, although for different reasons.

So in her example, I've listed the present mentor as a selfless secondary character. The way I would envision this going is Maera and the love interest team up early on - but somewhere along the way a secondary character saves them both. They're both heavily influenced by this character before this character sacrifices themselves. The aftermath of this incident rattles both Maera and her love interest, and serves as the spark for growth.

I hope you found this template - and very long explanation - useful!

[bluishfrog]

HAPPY 1-YEAR OF DRAWING ANNIVERSARY TO ME!

(Warning: slightly longer post incoming cause sometimes I gotta be a sentimental bitch ok? So let's go on a little trip down memory lane.)

This day, a year ago, I made my very first fanart. It was dnf (if that surprises you, then welcome to being on my blog for the very first time). I drew a little frog face too so I could use it as a watermark (fun fact: I still use that very same first one).

I immediately put my drawing up on twt because I told myself that I wasn't gonna be afraid of having people see that I was at the very beginning of this journey and had no clue what I was doing. That instead of being bad at art, I was gonna be awesome at being a beginner who doesn't know shit.

I started with little doodles and silly comics and then I laughed way too long when the first drawing of mine that gained some attention was a dnf butt joke. At the time I was trying to balance shipping and non-shipping art so I didn't even draw dnf that much but in hindsight it's probably the only possible way this could have gone.

At the very end of August I woke up to @honelle56 caps-locking at me in my messages - I was very confused and tired (I am no morning person and I will never be, fuck off with your mornings) because Dranart liked my drawing of singing Dream. Dranart was my 17th follower on twt which is a useless yet extremely funny fact about my time on that hellsite.

I also drew human!patches because a) patches was and will always be my favorite dteam member and b) it was a really cute trend and while I do love drawing dream, george and sapnap, I was also quite happy to try drawing anything but a white man for once. And I really liked how the drawing turned out.

Much, much later, I tried to draw my first slightly more realistic looking drawing. I was extremely confused on how to draw anything like this. Especially their hair gave me tons of trouble but given my experience, I think it's not a bad attempt.

When hijacked smp started I obviously wanted to participate, and I drew c!blu who doesn't associate with any side in particular but instead serves soup to everyone who visits her tavern 'The Soup House'. She also wants to be paid in stories from all around the map.

One of the events I was most excited about was dnf week. I even collaborated with two talented writers and I drew the corresponding art for two fics.

(Fun or not so fun fact: when twt had like three hundred collaborative aneurysms about the situation at that moment, that was when I created this tumblr account. I didn't use it super actively (I guess I needed another situation to fully make the switch) but I at least started the account that now developed quite a bit since then.)

I didn't really draw at all through January and February and I actually kinda thought I would move on from that hobby and fandom (not because of negative feelings, just because I didn't really have the urge to create anything within this fandom) and then situations happened and now I am here; and for some reason that is beyond any logic and my understanding I am now even more insane about dteam.

Wild to me but we are rolling with it now, I guess.

Since I got here, I drew more than ever (I actually think I might have made more drawings in the month since I got here than I made the whole rest of the year). There's just such an active and funny community here that cares about fan works for the sake of creating and not just because a CC might see it.

Unfortunately, Tumblr won't let me add more than 10 images in one post (maybe fortunately for everyone who has this monstrosity of a post on their dash). So if you want to see all the progress I made since I got here, you can look at everything in my art tag. For now, I will close this post with one of the art works from the past month that I like the most:

Can't wait to see what the next year might bring :)

Love, blu

[roo-bastmoon]

I dunno what it means but I have a theory

Pessimists say JK is copying/stealing Jimin's style because he has no creativity of his own and he knows Jimin's look was successful.

Pragmatists say the stylists recycle looks and design brands for BTS, especially when the members have a similar sense of style or body build, and they are pressed for time with all these rollouts.

Optimists like me say JK has a say in a lot of his outfits and poses, so he might wish to draw visual connections to Jimin, creating an unspoken alignment. It may not even be entirely conscious, and it definitely doesn't connect the "themes" of their solo works.

I guess we won't know unless they ever talk about it, but at this point, there's too many similarities for it to be a coincidence.

The reason I cannot bring myself to believe that Jungkook is just copying Jimin out of intellectual laziness is because THEY DO THIS IN THEIR PERSONAL LIVES ALL THE TIME. All the shoes, pants, shirts, hats, and jewelry brands and looks they've shared over the years?? They like the same stuff.

They take the whole "I am you, you are me" thing pretty seriously, and as much as Jimin teases Jungkook for being hyung's copycat, he has never truly minded. In fact we've had proof of them recently hanging out and being just fine with one another. Whatever their status is, Jikook seem pretty good, which is heartening.

So maybe I'm looking at the world through rose-colored glasses (and I'm not out to convince anyone to see things my way), but I just get the gut sense that JK craves connection with Jimin and this is one of the ways he can do that... Or maybe he just thinks Jimin is the coolest (I cannot argue with the man).

Even if he didn't write his own songs or craft his own designs in solo era (something I personally lament--I am really struggling to connect with his work so far, I'm sad to say, but that's a comment on me, not a demand of him), staff know what he likes; he approves things and has right of refusal.

So I just tend to think it may not be a big huge hairy deal (as in, this is not couple coding; this is not proof that "Jikook is real"). Rather, I take it to mean Jikook share aesthetics and this is one of the ways they click. At work. At home. While traveling. They click this way.

It's cool if you see things differently. I could be way, way off base! But as a general rule, if you bash a member of BTS on my blog you get the ban-hammer from me without any fuss or fanfare.

Discussion is great but keep it respectful. Thank you!

And now I cannot procrastinate any more. Lunch break is over and I have to get back to work. I don't wanna don't make me I just wanna watch BTS content all day long is that too much to ask waaaah. The deadlines, they wait for no one...