#like how much of memory is in the way it's interpreted through the self and the emotional significance. and how that emotional element

[aroanthy]

i love how fraught and complicated discourse around various utena characters ‘dying’ is when anthy is literally stabbed to death eternally by a million swords imbued with human hatred. and then utena gets stabbed to death by them also. like. ‘death’ is incredibly interesting in rgu because most of the time it’s this ambiguous figurative thing that has interesting implications re: ohtori as a closed-off world one can escape. we are all trapped in our coffins. mamiya is the only named character with a grave. nemuro memorial hall functions as one all the same. ruka is implied to have died in the hospital— was he dead all along? who was the boy we saw for these two episodes? is this dead boy the same boy, or is this just another coincidence from the shadow girls, cutting like a knife? it’s heavily implied that akio and anthy murder kanae by poisoning her, adding to the previous implication that they were poisoning mr ohtori too, but there are no perceptible consequences of this. kanae’s absence is not felt. she’s fed an apple slice. what happens to the bodies? we know what happened to the 100 boys, but what about everyone else? and so on and so forth. ‘death’ is a tricky thing in utena, i think it’s constantly functioning on figurative and literal levels in very different ways for very different purposes. dios died. dios was dying. dios didn’t die. he grew up. etc etc

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Been trying to write an analysis on Sasaki and the ending of Entrance Exam for days now and it just wasn't turning out so I deleted it... maybe another time when I can formulate a thought properly...

The only part I'll put here for now was the bit about my amusement with Dazai and Sasaki clearly near instantly realizing the other is a threat, which changed the way I read the scene of them chatting in the booth after she stayed the night. It probably boiled down to:

*sweetly smiling at each other* "oh this asshole has got to go"

Actually I went on an unorganized ramble in the tags so read that if you're interested in my Sasaki thoughts. Maybe I'll clean it up one day and make it proper.

[commsroom]

In BNW, pryce says that destroying memories gives her the new ones... does this mean that hera has all of eiffel's memories???

i don't think so... when pryce destroys eiffel's memories, she's not really... destroying his memories. i mean, i assume she was planning to rid herself of all the extraneous ones afterwards, but the actual act of breaking objects within his mind storeroom is just a visual representation of the transfer of information. hera 'running a comprehensive purge on the mindspace' manifests as a storm, and is a different process. and it's a process that requires the link between eiffel's brain and pryce's to remain intact.

like, i think it's theoretically possible that given more time and/or a different set of circumstances, hera could have transferred that information or backed it up somehow rather than just deleting it. it's even possible that some backup of eiffel's memories does exist, considering they planned to use similar technology for exactly that purpose re: hilbert and that they did scan his memories back in ep 55 (unclear on how comprehensive that was, and it really depends on where the information would've been stored, and for how long, but 'it'll take some time to uncouple it from all the star wars trivia' at least implies there is some data being recorded and stored for future use.)

... which i guess is to say. i think you can make the case a lot of things are possible, since wolf 359 'science' is extremely malleable in service of plot/character advancement anyway, but. i don't think that specific thing is intended in the show itself. it’s interesting to consider the implications of, though.

[ferris-the-wheel]

@b-floyd-o-leech-b here, Tumblr doesn't allow you to send asks using your side blogs-

May I please just give Floyd a nice pair of shoes without expecting anything in return?

(If he gives me something back though, I wouldn't mind).

It can be afterschool in the hallway, and my current TWST oc is a grumpy guy named Bob that is a little bit tsundere, but he's a bit of a self-insert for my bad moods so if you just want Floyd to refer to him/me as in the 2nd person, I don't mind.

If I forgot or missed anything, please DM me, I read through the rules and probably still forgot, like, half of them. (My memory isn't great, sorry. 😅)

Totally fine >:D I'll do my best!!!

Christmas Secret Santa Event

m!reader x Floyd Leech

: ̗̀➛ Scenario: You decide to give Floyd an early Christmas gift so you track him down after classes end.

A/N: So what I got from your description is that reader is gonna be a grumpy/tsundere for Floyd. Hope I interpreted that correctly *nervously sweating*

ೃ⁀➷ Just 💖

ೃ⁀➷ Mutual crushes

ೃ⁀➷ Reader isn't Yuu

TW: None

"Y/N~~ What did you want me here for?" Floyd asked as you rounded the corner, him trailing behind you. "Azul's gonna be mad if I'm late for work at the Mostro Lounge." He said.

"I- I wanted to give you something." You said, growing more embarrassed by the minute. But you knew that if you gave him the present— or more likely, he'd get it from under the tree himself— that he'd make a huge fuss and make even more of a scene. Sooo, you decided that you should give him his gift alone and spare yourself the embarrassment.

You held out the box to him, feeling your cheeks turn red and you turned away. He blinked for a moment, likely not expecting you to be giving him something, but his droopy grin returned and he laughed. "Awwwww, Y/N~ you got me a gift?" He said in a drawled-out way. He took the box, making sure to touch your hand in the process with a sly grin.

You scowled at him and went to walk away but he grabbed your wrist with a pouty face. "Y/N~~! You aren't gonna wait until I unwrap it? That's so meeeean!" You gave an exasperated sigh and stood where you were. He snickered and opened the present.

When he pulled the new shoes you'd bought him out of the box, his face lit up and he gave a little gasp of happiness. "New shoes? Awww, you're so thoughtful!!" Before you could react, he pulled you into a tight squeezing hug. You momentarily lost your breath as you squirmed around, trying to free yourself, though you only got away because he let you go.

"Aw, but I don't have anything to give you in return!" Floyd exclaimed, his mood shifting to being sad. "T- That's fine! I don't need a gift anyway!" You replied hurriedly, holding up your hands.

"But that'd be unfair if you gave me something and I didn't do anything in return. Hmmmmmm...." Floyd didn't appear to be listening to any of your protests, until he finally decided on something. "I got it!" He said, eyeing you with his semi-sadistic looking smile.

You were not in the mood to figure out what that meant, but he grabbed you around the waist dropping the box in the process which you thought was rude since they were brand new and gave you a quick kiss on the lips. It ended pretty much in the same moment as it started, but the suddenness of it made your face heat up and you were certain that your face was bright red.

It also left you unable to form a proper sentence. "F- Floyd! I— you— what—" Floyd gave a giggle and scooped up the box, then started walking down the hallway like nothing had happened, leaving your mind racing. "Eh— FLOYD!!!!"

Now that you had collected your thoughts, you chased after him down the hallway. When he realized that you were now following him, he took off running as well, turning only to playfully stick his tongue out at you.

I'M DONE OMG 🥹 I had no idea how I was going to start this off and this was like the only thing I could think of. Also Floyd seems to be VERY popular. He might actually have more fics than Riddle soon lol. Anywayyyyys, I hope everyone enjoyed this kinda short post (especially you, @b-floyd-o-leech-b!!!!) and I look forward to more requests for this event <3

Taglist: @officialdaydreamer00 @mermaidfanficlibrary @edith-is-apparently-a-cat @lyle-my-beloved @haruhar-u @cookiesandbiscuits

[abdeladrian]

when it comes to balduran/the emperor and ansur i think its a really interesting sort of tragedy no matter how you interpret their relationship and the nature of what happened.

because there's something to once being a hero so renowned that a home to thousands is in your name. and having a companion so dear that they'd kill you to preserve You, but also having changed so much against your will from that hero and that friend they knew and having to come to terms with it (maybe also against your will).

and being a survivor in the long run and being saved time and time again and being used and using back. of coming back home and infiltrating and taking power and being captured and used to hurt when you used to help. of running and manipulating and attempting to do the same trust-build-seduction method you once used with someone new, and trying to convince this person to become like you. because at this point you've lost the ability to feel your feelings

we obviously by nature of its character cant tell when the emperor is lying, telling the truth, or being sincere but i also like really don't like the idea of intrinsic evilness so sometimes i want to take him at face value. we have examples of a mind flayer having genuine companionship (omeluum) alongside having a purpose that lets them live a life separate from the grand design, and i fear having ansur was perhaps the only reason the emperor ever got to be free. not just physically but mentally.

because balduran went sailing one day because he missed it and never came home. ansur fought to find him and was too late. y'know. and like. how heartbreaking is that? that ansur who loved and protected and promised to keep balduran's city safe… made a promise that became a prison. to love so wholly that he wanted to preserve his partner even when his partner gave up and told him to leave and keep his memory as the thing that mattered. how heartbreaking for balduran to have killed him in self defense and then built him a tomb where he could rest? that no one would disturb him? how famous the love was that his promise to protect became legend? the last wish he ever had? that the only way to wake him was to pass a gauntlet to prove your worth? while recording praises for their partnership?

like forgive me but i don't think creating an elaborate tomb to protect ansur's final resting place is a lack of feeling. ansur made a promise that became a prison that became a legend. his legacy was love. and he recognized balduran from feeling alone and got to see him again, for what its worth. the emperor will always be ansur's balduran.

also we see ansur in his dragonborn form. not controversial i hope but they were more than friends! ansur i'm sorry king. your husband became calamari and unrecognizable. and when he accuses balduran of thralling the player, which we can refute, and ansur just stops to Look only for balduran to break the silence by RECITING THE LETTER? DEAR ANSUR? AND THAT'S WHAT DRIVES ANSUR TO ATTACK?

nevermind the fact that you can't make the dream guardian a dragonborn. and the armor it wears is awfully similar to ansur's in his humanoid form. balduran never forgot ansur. i think balduran-as-the-emperor in dream guardian form not taking a form like ansurs but still keeping that armor, still speaking ansur's words and acting out his intents when promising the player protection and care, is evidence that ansur lived in him still. even through the layers of the loss of identity that was him becoming a mind flayer.

ansur was the heart of the gate. and it's baldur's gate. he's balduran's heart. his heart. ansur lived in him. it was a promise that became a prison that became a legend. his legacy was love

[panxramic]

I like the different interpretations of Tallulah’s hair color people have been sending me.

Her hair didn’t turn black JUST bc of q!Missa. It turned black because it’s the color of the wither roses her papa likes, it turned black because it matches the feathers on the back of q!Phil’s wings, her hair turned black because it’s the same shade as the crows that flock their home. Tallulah’s hair turned black because death is very much a part of her every day life. It turned black because she *likes* it. Tallulah’s hair is black because it resembles her whole life and the people she loves.

I like to refrain from attributing certain things about Tallulah solely to one person because people just end up turning her into an extension of others. Especially when people attribute certain features of hers to someone she hasn’t talked to in months and she has never seen as a father.

They already did it to her once before, and I’d hate to see it be done to her again. She’s more than that. She always has been.

Tallulah’s journey with self discovery and finding her place in the world has been a rollercoaster to watch unfold. She’s gone through so much to prove herself, she’s fought hard to show the world who she is and who she isn’t. She’s gotten lost in promises and old memories. Tallulah has struggled with her identity as it has always been heavily tied to family, and family on the island is important and complicated.

She’s come to a place where she finally feels comfortable. She finally feels like she belongs in this family and now she can continue that path of self discovery. Because there’s no greater feeling than that freedom of being able to decide who you are. Of being in such a comfortable spot in which she can explore different ways to express herself.

I don’t think this necessarily has been a HUGE issue, but it’s definitely one that has been in the foreground for a while and an added effect of her struggles in finding a place on the island. Because finding that place is also a part of WHO she is, it’s part of her identity.

I remember her getting upset that she was seen as an extension of him for months. It was all anybody would ever bring up around her. She was the egg that was left behind, she was the egg that didn’t have a father. She was the egg that was abandoned again and again. And it was hard trying to combat that, bc how do you work around something that is genuinely affecting you to your core? Something that felt so defining in your life?

Well I think she’s come far in showing that she’s more than that. That she’s not just the sad traumatized egg that was abandoned. She’s grown a lot, she’s found a new place. There’s still sore spots sure. She didn’t like being called the “trauma egg” because again, it’s something she’s been trying to move past from. She’s more than just her trauma, she’s more than the people and the things that have hurt her.

I think that yes her past is important, everything she’s gone through has molded her into the egg that she is. But she’s not just her past. Her past doesn’t control her, not like it used to at least. It’s important that she’s reinventing herself in a way. Because she’s changed a lot, but she’s still Tallulah. Not the same one we saw at the start, but it’s still her. And at this point in time she’s more herself than she ever has been.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

hey skyen, you mentioned about kuina that she seemed transmasc to you and in my experience i think more people see zoro as a transmasc person, the reason being is his want/need to break gender stereotypes rather than enforce them. through kuina, his story to become the greatest swordman is inherently about breaking gender roles. and personally i think a lot of transmascs see this as their relationship to cis women. (especially in how kuina pushes zoro into the "weak" category with him and parrots sexism without knowing how it affects him) i also think his story is WAY more satisfying from a gender perspective if you see him as transmasc, regardless of if its intended or not. (the truth is that theyre BOTH transmasc, actually, why not?) (idk if you read fanfiction, probably not, but the fanfiction Burning Man on ao3 really goes in depth with transmasc zoro. its also the best fanfiction ive personally read for op)

Yeah, I can absolutely see that.

On related lines, I've also seen an interpretation of the story that Kuina and Zoro are the same person, and that Zoro's flashback depicts a metaphorical series of events rather than literal, where he battles with his assigned identity over and over as a child and can never "beat" her, never overcome or break out from under her.

But when he realizes that his assigned identity is miserable and in pain, and that all that even she wants is to be a boy, he has to go through the trauma of seeing her die, and go out into the world as truly himself. Through that lens his quest to become the greatest swordsman in the world is, in part, a quest to spite every motherfucker on Earth who told his past self that he would never be able to transcend his assigned gender.

So long as you assume that Kuina's father is playing along with it to the point of setting up a grave for his dead daughter who never was, it does explain why he would let Zoro take away the Wado Ichimonji, an incredibly important and valuable family heirloom, and treat Zoro so much like a direct son.

The Three Sword Style already represents Zoro carrying Kuina's spirit and memory with him always - his two-sword style in the hands, her one sword style in his mouth - and in this reading the style would be carrying the memory and pain of his childhood with him, and letting it empower him to become greater than anyone without his experiences could ever be.

It's one of the nice things about One Piece, I think, that it is open to these kinds of interpretations. Luffy being aro/ace is basically canon, which I appreciate a lot, and nobody can tell me Nami and Vivi didn't have a mutual crush going during Alabasta, and there is no understanding of Ace I will accept where he wasn't the most bi/pan wandering disaster the Grand Line had ever seen since Roger.

I do hope the actual explicit text of the manga will catch up to that someday... I was really happy to finally see some actual transmasc rep with Yamato, and a bit more playfulness with gender in general in characters like Izou and Kikunojo in the Wano Country arc, and honestly canonically transmasc Zoro or Crocodile would be enriching to both of those characters, I think.

[itsvelyria]

"as sad taylor swift songs"

vvv vague references to depression for danny

(not really a representation of the songs as a whole but rather how i interpret each phrase i cherry picked)

Charles Leclerc

and say the one thing, i've been wanting, but no~ 🩵

your phone lights up the dark of your room, you should be asleep at this time of the night. there hadn't been any new messages since Tuesday but here you sat, scrolling aimlessly on social media, waiting by the chat like you were 13 again with your first crush. the squeal of glee and the uncontrollable smile on your face when they would text back — that's how he made you feel. and though the little voice in your head is telling you that everything was wrong, there was no way you would debase your feelings to refute the way your brain was wired to think of him at all times. but as you were flicking through gossip sites, the back of a head that haunted your dreams and nightmares was staring right back at, pressed up against a shorter brunette one — maybe it was time to listen to your brain and not your heart.

Carlos Sainz

tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch~ 🩷

every inch of your skin was on fire, like it was rejecting the touch of the man above you. if you squinted enough, blocked out the light from the living room behind his broad shoulders, you could have mistaken him for a certain Spaniard. except the Spaniard wouldn't have chosen to lay his focus on your neck like this guy you picked up at the club. you couldn't, for the life of your alcohol-riddled brain, recall his name. but you could remember the ghost of a touch down between the valleys of your breasts and that was enough to pry a spine-shivering moan out your throat. maybe if you pretended enough and swallowed the hot tears back, you could pretend he was the person you wanted instead.

Danny Ricciardo

she would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head~ 🧡

he knew it when your frame had started curled in on itself under the covers. how you brushed past the stereo you loved to fiddle with on Saturday mornings. how you told him that you'd rather stay home on days you had plans. he felt this clawing in his insides whenever you barely spared him a glance, like he was the extra on a film set who was just waiting around for something to happen. so he did what he did best. he'd called up your mom to ask for her recipes to cook for nights you were too tired to move and offered to dry your hair whenever you wandered around wet hair. when you were fast asleep, cuddled up in his arms, he hoped you could hear when he told you how much he loved you and how he'd always be here.

George Russell

will you still want me, when i'm nothing new~ ❤️

even with your eyes closed on the red-eye flight, you could picture your colour-coded and meticulously organised calendar in your head. that and the thousands of messages from your mother, disappointment reeking from them at your missing of your nephew's baby shower. he was 1, he'd get over it. amongst the messages was two calls to your boyfriend, both left unanswered. the silence feeling like a prelude to something inevitable. images of him laughing with a colleague, your calls ignored, flashed in your mind. the little seed of self-doubt had planted itself a long time ago and bloomed into a voice in your head, relentlessly questioning your every move, every word. you hated it, but when the fire you started grows uncontrollably and you can't stop it, what could you do but let it consume you whole?

Lando Norris

no one could touch the way we laughed in the dark~ 💛

it was like a bad smell you couldn't ignore, the second you stepped onto the hiking path. you refused to come but was convinced otherwise by your group of friends. and with each crunch of the wet leaves under your boot or the distant sound of rushing water, you saw faint wisps of smoke in the shape of someone drawn from your ancient memories, holding your hand and leading you up the slope. hallucinations of a familiar laugh clouded your mind with the hike passing like a daze. the waterfall was still as beautiful as you remembered with the tree where he had secretly carved both your initials just a few steps away. your boyfriend pulled you closer, breaking your trance. his grin radiating at you, you felt the old memories slip away back into the shadows, cupping the chin of your new love.

Lewis Hamilton

you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye~ 💜

sometimes when he glanced at old pictures, the indifference in his chest made him feel like he had moved on. and it should. with every second that slipped out of his grasp, the pain in his heart had dulled and he was busy enough without having to schedule mourning into his calendar. but the glare of his phone burned the picture into his retinas while he was waiting for his next race to begin, he missed the pang in his chest when you first ended the relationship. it was almost like he was losing every shred of you and the ugly feeling in his head raged on. and the next moment, he would turn the phone off, throwing it across his room to bury his head in his palms, the anger redirecting on the pathetic little boy inside him. he should have moved on by now, he knows he should have, but as he glanced at all the faces in the stands, part of him wishes one of them was you.

Max Verstappen

then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet~ 🩶

you can see it in the darkening of his eyes when he answered his calls. or how his lips pulled taunt after a bad race. he had mentioned some things in passing: details of his childhood glossed over like it was nothing more than a dusty spine of a long-forgotten book. coupled with stories from his family, you had pieced together enough of the puzzle he kept his past. and that tugging in your heart wasn't pity; you could never pity him. but you weren't sure what it was either. and so you kept it quiet, tucking it away in a box, focused on the one thing that did matter — his present. maybe one day, you'll take the box out and rifle through its contents with your lover, but for now, just seeing him hold that trophy was more than enough.

[overnowsfcb]

worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

[temnurus]

Draco Falls First Fic Recs

I made this rec list when someone in a server asked for fics in which Draco falls in love with Harry first. I love pining, & this scenario is the perfect setup for it. As a result, I had rather a lot to choose from, but here are ten that made the cut this time.

The Unbearable Burden of Caring & it's sequel Sins and Scars and Shattered Things by Tessa Crowley (E, 22,189)

Thoughts: These fics both ruined me. They were so damn good that I could have wept from the sheer beauty of the prose alone. I swear I must've spent half of them clutching a tissue in anticipation of breaking into ugly sobs every five minutes. They were romantic & beautifully poignant; even the smut was so emotionally charged that I was left spellbound. I highly, highly recommend them both.

you've got the antidote for me by Kandakicksass (E, 20,730)

Thoughts: My heart was breaking for Draco before I even got through the summary. This soulmate fic is recced a lot & with good reason. It's still one of my favorites, & I reread it quite often.

Dragon Heartstrings by JET_Playin (E, 23,825)

Thoughts: Admittedly I'm a sucker for soulmate fics, so here's another for you. I liked how the author covered Draco's experience with seeing the red strings that indicated soulmate bonds throughout the years, briefly touching on his early childhood & skipping through his years at Hogwarts before settling into the meat of the story during his & Harry's eighth year at school. This is another one that I've reread several times because I just enjoy it so much each time.

Beating Out of Time by Moss_Man_Writes (E, 73,574)

Thoughts: I was sucked in from the very beginning, & I loved Draco's POV the most. The pining on Draco's part was perfect, & watching Harry fall in love with him was just enchanting.

The Butterfly Kiss by triggerlil (T, 1,998)

Thoughts: This is the shortest of all my recs, but it's by no means less engaging. The ethereal atmosphere of the whole thing left me breathless. Draco as a butterfly was something I'd never seen before, & even though I knew fairies were sometimes viewed as butterflies by unsuspecting mortals, I never would've thought of it as a premise. It was such a gorgeous soulmate AU (couldn't help myself). Draco's pining for Harry throughout was heart-achingly beautiful, too.

The Shape of the World by bixgirl1 (E, 48,276)

Thoughts: Memory loss fics often guarantee a healthy dose of angst, & this is no exception. Harry being the one afflicted did provide the perfect setup for Draco to fall for him first, though. He was probably already a bit in love with him before he ran back into him, to be honest, haha. This is by my favorite Drarry author, & rarely is there ever a time one of her fics doesn't make it onto a rec list of mine.

The Light More Beautiful by firethesound (E, 81,255)

Thoughts: Draco was so clever & creative in this, & the way he felt about Harry took my breath away. He appreciated the exact things about him that make me love Harry so much as a character, & it was probably my favorite thing about this fic. The pining was achingly lovely, the banter & teasing were fun, & the smut was scorching hot. firethesound is one of the most popular Drarry authors to date, & this is probably my favorite fic of hers.

The Lily Spell by pickledghost (E, 86,512)

Thoughts: Okay, fair warning, this is an Omegaverse fic & the author is up front about the fact that Draco's characterization isn't standard to canon or even most of fanon. He was so sweet that I just couldn't get enough of him. It's also an AU in which there was no second war with Voldemort, & I think it had a very believable interpretation of how Harry might've turned out under those circumstances. He was still very much himself at his core, just more confident & self-assured, in my opinion. The slow burn was so well done that I didn't even notice the passage of time while I was glued to the story. It hooked me in & kept me invested from start to finish.

Pop Up Pals by bambimoss (E, 62,447)

Thoughts: I cannot believe I almost forgot to add this fic. I read it twice in a row. That's how much I enjoyed the story. Draco being so lonely broke my fucking heart. Seriously, I think someone would have to be a sociopath if they couldn't empathize with Draco's experiences here. Surprisingly, I laughed a lot at this, & I also cried like a baby at one point. The characterizations were amazing, & the fic was jam-packed with emotion. It was absolutely stunning, & nothing has managed to knock it off of my top ten favorite Drarry fics list despite some very close contenders since the first time I read it.

[lazyyogi]

Spring Renewal: Healing from Time

Feeling lethargic, unfocused, or apathetic despite the onset of Spring? You may benefit from the practice of Renewal.

In this post:

What is the purpose of renewal and why do we need it? -> How burdens accumulate through the passage of time -> Timeless = freshness

Technical elements of renewal practices: -> Recapitulation -> Defragmentation -> Trauma shard release -> Reclamation of loaned energies

When we rinse away the dust of wear & tear and shed the accumulated burdens of time, we experience renewal. We regain a feeling of the timeless brightness that was once so natural to us.

Time exists for us as memory of past and imagination of the future, but also in the way we interpret the present according to those memories and imaginations. 

Time exists in this moment as the imprints we have absorbed in the form of judgments and beliefs as well as the ways in which our repeated experiences have dulled our senses.

Think of an older adult. How they are as living beings is mainly shaped by the ways in which they have accumulated time: the weight of lifestyle choices on the physical body, the definitions and perceptions fixed into the mind, and the various forms of conditioning programmed by life experiences.

A common reason for low levels of energy and enthusiasm in adults is due to the accumulation of time, which leads to a state of staleness.

Now think of an infant, a creature who embodies the very essence of newness: unburdened by imprints or conditioning, undistracted by thoughts of past or future, undefended in their naked experience of consciousness in the moment.

An infant radiates freshness.

Habituation and conditioning are the marks left in the subtle (energy) body by the passage of time. Some of that is useful and part of what makes us more functional than an infant. But much if not most of this is accumulated garbage.

Just as a diamond coated in dust still possesses its inherent luster and clarity, so too do we still possess that freshness of infancy. Such is the esoteric meaning of "innocence." It can be obscured but it can never be lost.

When we engage in renewing practices, we first recognize and then rejoice in our fundamental essence. It has not gone anywhere, nor will it ever. It is us. Only, it can be forgotten and therefore go unknown and unseen. So, we dust off the diamond.

There are many ways to discuss the elements of self-renewal. In this post, I will address four of them.

The first is recapitulation.

"You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them." ~ Maya Angelou

"They believed that by means of the recapitulation, however, they could acquire a degree of control that could permit them to separate their life experiences from their life force." ~ Carlos Castaneda

The events of our lives, and the way we experience them, invariably impact us deeply. Sometimes it's a good thing, leading to self-discovery and inspiration. Yet at times it can be traumatic, confusing, and weakening. Especially when we unquestionably believe that we are those experiences.

When this happens, our enthusiasm and brightness (in other words our energy) becomes drained and muted. Through recapitulation, there is a therapeutic and cathartic disentanglement of our living reality from our past history. We can still reference our memory of the past for practical purposes but we are no longer reduced or limited by our past experiences.

The next two elements are defragmentation and trauma shard release.

Like a computer, we don't always develop in an orderly and optimized fashion. It's not surprising when you consider the disjointed and fast paced unfolding of experiences from the moment we wake up to when we go to sleep. Unfinished thoughts, half-baked daydreams, subconscious micro-emotions, and more all swirling just out of sight of our conscious attention. In a sense, we play host to fragments in many forms within us.

Related to this is the piercing placement of traumatic shards within our minds and bodies. A trauma is an experience that overwhelms and bypasses our capacity for healthy processing. In an acute form, when its fresh, it can cause us persistent distress in several ways and we will consciously suffer. In a chronic form, it can be more subtle in the form of triggers, crippling fears, avoidance and dependance behaviors, and more. These tend to be semi-conscious due to the way the trauma has integrated into your sense of self or identity. Any suggestion of being free from that trauma can feel like an affront on your identity, your self.

Instead of dealing with the discomfort of the healing process, many will instead resign themselves to coping mechanisms designed to prevent the re-activation of their traumatic wounds.

The burden of fragments and traumatic shards are just a few examples of how we carry time inside of us.

Lastly is the reclamation of loaned energies.

Through our prayers, intentions, and karmas, we have become involved with the paths and energies of other beings--be they people, animals, or other forms of sentience. This may be positive or negative, such as beings you have supported emotionally or beings with whom you have engaged previously in repeated conflicts. Those connections can persist on subconscious levels, influencing and siphoning our energies.

Through the practice of self-renewal, we can call all of those energies back to us and sever the obsolete connections that remain. This leaves us fresh and capable of forming new connections while moving forward from a place more whole and wise.

For a practice to reach down deep enough to be more than just a momentary relaxation or distraction, it must touch our fundamental nature: primordial awareness. This is the stainless diamond beneath the dust of time.

It is from that stainless place of beingness within us all that we can find both the perspective and the power necessary to free ourselves from the accumulated burdens of time.

Next up will be a sequel post about combining these elements to find a renewal practice that works for you.

LY

[lostonmyroad]

Moments That I Want Tattooed On My Forehead From S-Classes That I Raised Chapters 50-70

As always, BEWARE OF SPOILERS!!! Future chapters may be referenced!!!

The insane amount of lore dropped in these chapters wow

Chapters 50-60

help its genuinely still so funny to see yoojin in the early chapters going: “all i have to do is complete this one (1) task and then i can live like a slacker” before he gives up (cries in cale henituse)

everyone referring to yoojin as “monster daddy” and asking him to raise their children is amazing. no notes 

ARRIVAL OF THE KING SUNG HYUNJAE!!! He's a bastard he's amazing he's always on my mind

"...no matter how amazing Sung Hyunjae might be, he wouldn't be able to notice it easily. He wouldn't press his nose against my body and smell me, like my idiot brother had, would he" um. ok??? yoojin's completely normal though process

sung hyunjae essentially telling yoojin “aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you want to go apeshit” within 5 minutes of their first real conversation

i forgot shj gives him a pair of earrings!! (and a bone for Peace)

yoojin’s disguise to get to the f rank dungeon being a fucking sun protection hat…it’s giving marvel baseball cap and sunglasses…and he has this because he used to stage one man protests??? sir what were you protesting against

oh that’s right the dungeons will appear at a faster rate because “time was only reversed for yoojin” oops

Chirpie makes its debut!!

yoojin trying to hide where he got chirpie from “i found it in the hallway”. king if yoohyun wasn’t suspicious of you already that would do it

yoohyun yeeting Peace and mama yoojin scolding him

chef myungwoo :))

bleh bug dungeon. i’m with you yoojin that was disgusting

yoojin not wanting to use Last Repayment :((

Riette makes an entrance! do you think riette demonstrated girl power when she abused her brother until he became an s rank

yoojin thinking about how he had raised yoohyun and was so happy about sending him to college…saving money for his tuition…and just losing interest in riette :((

yoojin saves bak hayool!!

this is where we see peak yoojin mafia behavior. unhinged. but justified revenge?? this is why i don’t understand fan interpretations where he’s like a wallflower like this man has murdered multiple people quite violently 

chapter 60 is just so much. like. i cant even describe. yoojin you need so much therapy

the way he sees people’s last memories before they die ugh…

yoojin playing 3D chess while everyone else is playing checkers fr

him calling his friend who doesn’t remember him bc of the regression and telling them to live a happy life always gets me ufffff i wish we got to meet this character

Chapters 60-70

Yoojin and the Awakening center — a tragedy in the making. Pre-regression trauma galore

The Association rears its ugly head!!! Yoojin has an authority figure problem (but it’s completely justified)

love how chill Yoojin is about Chirpie. random F rank monster that’s cute as hell that’s eating Peace's weight in magic stones and was born from an error in the system??? ehh no big deal it’s my pet now and i’ll kill for it

love the absolutely random detail about seok hayan’s pineapple earrings. thank you geunseo you know what the people want

yoojin funding public research!! hero of the people and my heart

yerim refusing to praise yoohyun and myeongwoo to their faces hahahaha. all of them petty as hell

MYUNGWOO GETS HIS SS RANK SKILL BABYYYY

yoojin still trying to protect myungwoo i love them

yoojin: *is keeping secrets from yoohyun and putting himself in danger*

also yoojin: why is yoohyun being cold with me

everyone’s giving yoojin flowers today lmfao

sung hyunjae you’re everything to me. you’re so bizzare. the bouquet??? showing up in a 2-seater car?? bullying seok simyeong??

Shj reminding Yoojin to wear his seatbelt because he's an F rank HDJEKXIDKD

oh yoojin. “who’d want to place themselves through hardships on purpose” like SIR are u that un self aware

yerim listening to this bullshit, eyes falling out of her head: i’m literally going to crazy murder you with yoohyun

the dungeon ppl have the actual worst timing. yoohyun is going to McFreaking lose it

yoojin and yoohyun finally work things out we love to see it :))

chapter 65 starts the explanation of the 50 s ranks requirement!!! water droplet is going through it

so much is just casually dropped in this chapter like. yoohyun is a born s rank! the dungeon ppl are manually inputting things for yoojin! the world might end! anyways!

yoojin having such strong mom energy that the dungeon people forgot he was a dude

one of the moments ever when yoohyun and Peace burn down the dungeon in worry and yoojin’s just there like. ah. shit. my bad i fucked up there a little

grown up Peace my beloved

chapter 67 yoohyun my beloved. you are so crazy. “hold still while i chop off your arm and fake your dear so i can keep you safe” 

the han brothers finally having a real conversation. yoojin i love you but you really needed to do this sooner

PEACE STAYING SMALL JUST SO YOOJIN CAN PICK HIM UP UWAHHHH MY HEART

Newcomer joins the battle

Chirpie turnin on the TV by itself and yoojin praising it like every proud parent ever

more monsters!!!

unicorns (white + black bc yoojin is terrible at naming) + gryphon (named Blue)

yoojin’s training method of using himself as a human chew toy is traumatizing for everyone around him.

same hyuna i would also be taking 10939392 photos

Peace and Blue WWE match. flex on em Peace

nobody:

yoojin: wow myeongwoo is hot now

BLUE LEARNING HOW TO OPEN THE FRIDGE

i love the monster shenanigans

[mosaickiwi]

Fall Unto Me (part three)

Part one, part two

I said I was on break but then a lot of things immediately fell out of my brain cause of stress so now I feel silly... sowweeeeee 🤡 Part four WILL be the last part I swear. If you see more Angel!Angel and Demon!Ren from me after that (and da infodump if i get to it) genuinely tell me to shut the FUCK up!!!

yes i am probably writing the NSFW version it'll be in my compendium post if it happens

cw// religious themes

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Your resolve was getting harder to hold on to, but you kept it. This would be the last time. You couldn't part from heaven again after returning. Atonement was waiting for you, eternal devotion to your duty right after.

Another few weeks went by as you stayed with Ren a little longer, the sea of flowers outside your bedroom window changing little by little each day. So many of them were already fully blooming, most of their petals stretched open to show off a myriad of colors while others curled inwards to hide from you. Practically a taunting mockery with how they took their time. As if insulted you would dare leave once they painted the horizon with their beauty.

It made it all the more painful that you'd never see them again. Or the companion that now felt like a piece you'd been missing.

Something about that encroaching deadline had affected the devil, too. Ren was calmer in some ways. They still brought you gifts and knowledge like usual, but he seemed to be taking his time just like the flowers. Simple answers to your curiosities became thorough while he held you close and urged you to ask more questions about whichever object took interest. 

He'd offered to revisit trinkets you loved as well. Until you were as familiar with using them as he was. You couldn't understand it. 

Your time together was draining away by the second. Didn't they want to make exciting memories? No matter how much you enjoyed it, mastery over human instruments or crafts served no purpose. Heaven wouldn't let you bring those things home, nor could you ask a higher power to recreate them for leisure.

Maybe your love was in denial of your departure. Or maybe spending little mundane, quiet days and nights together like this was their way of coming to terms with it.

Today, you chose to fiddle with one of the oldest gifts while chatting with him. The sun was just beginning to set, casting the room in the faded, flaming gold hue you'd only now gotten used to. 

“—Love?” He was calling you, the end of his tail swaying gently in front of your face to get your attention. You’d missed a few words.

“Hm?”

“You've gotten much better at this,” the pink haired devil hummed above you. His chin was resting atop your head as they cradled you in their lap on a frayed rug, his back against the bottom of the couch.

You looked over your work. The woven red string wrapped around and through your fingers took the shape of a pointed star. You knew real stars looked differently, but the human interpretation was interesting.

“Truly, it’s better than before,” you said with wholehearted agreement. The first time you'd tried—only on the third day of your visit to earth—had simply tangled the string to a knotted mess stuck upon your fingers for Ren to deal with while you apologized, embarrassed beyond belief. 

The patterns they taught you were almost easy thanks to your afternoon of trying. You unwound the string and painstakingly wound it again into one that often graced your practice: an angel. He'd been particularly smug about teaching you the motions of that one.

“An impressive self portrait,” Ren joked and squeezed you tighter in their embrace. “Although it'll take more than some thread to capture your divine beauty.”

Naturally, you rolled your eyes even though the soul it was meant for couldn't see it. A mortal gesture you'd gotten the hang of quicker than anything, as he so favored innocent teasing before expressing his deepest sincerities.

You untangled the string and tossed it to the side, then turned in their lap to make a face this time for their benefit. “I’ll do a painting, then. I’ve had enough of this toy.”

He relaxed his hold long enough for you to wander across the room in search of new distractions, but innocently called after you, “We’ll have to light quite a few candles for you to see well. Unless you plan to have me mix paints for you in the dark.” A second passed before he spoke again. “It’d be a pleasant surprise, I’m sure.” 

“Something else?” you replied, making a swift turn towards the bookshelves. You came back with a couple of novels and sat beside them with your treasure. “Is this really all you want to do? You’ve read every book here before.” 

Even the books he’d bought with strange, flimsy paper currency for you, Ren had said so casually, were already familiar territory. Tedium hardly described how boring you thought these weeks must be for him. But he never objected to anything you chose, as long as you both stayed close to home during the day. 

And you always kept your wings hidden in case a human roamed nearby. You'd never seen one come close to the cabin, or even the field of flowers, but he insisted your safety—and proximity to them—was of utmost priority. It was hard to remember the last time you let loose your wings at all after walking on the beach with him. They interrupted your thoughts once more.

“My sweet, delicate angel, I’ve had all the time in the world to do anything I want.” Their blue eyes narrowed with a smile as they spoke and you knew more teasing was coming. “We could even sit here in silence all night, if you asked me nicely.”

“How kind of you, my darling demon,” you teased them back. 

Another jesting response in his gaze faded to something different as you pulled him down for a kiss, gently at first. The books you’d brought over lay forgotten, soon shoved under the couch in favor of your new activity.

Kissing the demon you called yours felt like second nature now. There was no sting that ever came, no homesick aching in your back anymore. Only the flood of tender emotions he gave you, tainted by your own guilt and fears of parting from him.

You needed more. A stronger distraction. Your hand on his shirt tightened, determined to keep him. To stay in this moment as long as possible.

Ren exhaled, a muttering of blasphemous praise you dare not repeat whispered from his lips to yours, along with one word. A word that sounded odd to your ears. 

You'd heard it countless times over the months, but it didn't feel strange until after the first kiss you shared. He must have said it earlier, too, when you were occupied with that damned little red string. Demonic language was much different, it certainly wasn’t that at all. And the sounds of the word did feel similar to mortal languages, but nothing came to mind. So naturally, you could only assume it to be another of their pet names, but…

The thought fell to the side as you focused on him. He was all that needed to matter right now.

Their comforting warmth that called of your sacred home, your nails curling into the bottom of his shirt just to fall lower, an iron, almost nectar-like taste that flowered on your tongue—did you bite him this time? It felt good. 

Desperately, you brushed your hand over his thigh, getting dangerously close to where you knew things risked going further. You caught yourself and froze. You wanted him, you’d known since that day in the rain. In every way a being could yearn for another’s love. And of course he felt the same. But could you really go home if it happened? 

“Before I…” The words hung in the air and what remained weighed in your throat. Before I leave. Departure was looming on the horizon, sure as the sun would rise tomorrow. You dare not mention it to the one you loved again. You opened your eyes to meet theirs, cautiously as you wondered, “Is this alright?”

“Yes,” they answered, longing clear as the evening sky in his voice. “I couldn’t bear—or ever want—to deny you. Little angel, all you desire of me is yours to take.”

Without another word you did just that. You thought nothing of the faint, staggered line you felt under your fingertips that seemed to start somewhere along his shoulder blade as you lifted the shirt away and pushed him to lay on the rug. Your hands pressed their ink-stained arms flat next to the disheveled mess of pink hair and horns. Ren grinned at your audacity to pin him, but held still for your much needed exploration. 

Eyes half lidded with patient lust, mouth parted to show off pointed fangs, the devil looked to be the very picture of your sinful desires.

To be one with them, even just once, was a memory worth making. No matter what punishment waited for you at heaven’s boundary. You skimmed your fingers from the base of his collarbone, down over their stomach, and began to undo the buttons that concealed what you’d been waiting for.

[drivelikeiido]

to dye for

matty dyes the reader's hair in his own chaotic, messy way

matty healy x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: some suggestive mentions but it's all jokey but other than that it's just fluff ! (aka all i seem to write)

notes: this is self indulgent because i dye my hair all the time and i saw a pic of blue haired matty on the dash this morning that inspired me to actually write this ! also shoutout to mads for saying it was similar to the hair dying scene from clueless you were so right and i finally watched clueless because of that so slay

The scene in the bathroom is carnage. Coloured dye and stained towels litter the previously spotless floor. You almost regret putting too much trust into your boyfriend’s capabilities to help you, but he did insist and who were you to resist those chocolate brown eyes?

You're sitting cross-legged on the chair you brought in from the office, one you’re glad neither of you cared about as it’s now irreversibly dyed with memories of this venture. Matty stands behind you, your head at the perfect height for him to apply his ministrations. Normally you adore the feeling of your boyfriend’s slender fingers playing and passing through your hair, but at this current moment in time the feeling just stresses you out, not being able to see the ‘artistic choices’ he’s taking in terms of your appearance worries you. It’s not that you don’t trust him but judging from the sight of the splatters of dye that are dotted all over the bathroom floor he seems to have gotten a little too overenthusiastic to be involved in your makeover, making you worry for the state of your undoubtedly stained scalp.

After a particularly loud sigh from you and a warning of “Matty!” your boyfriend's infectious giggle can be heard from above you, the wholesome sound filling the small space of the bathroom.

“Darling I am helping you know”

“Matty, you’re getting dye everywhere!” you chide, only pretending to be annoyed at him and he knows that.

“You want it all to be covered don’t you?”

You snap your head back to look up at him, his infectious grin already staring back at you, “Yes but not the walls!”. His responding laugh is booming and full of entertainment and the way his eyes crinkle at the edges with how broad his smile is makes you want to kiss every inch of his pretty face, that too which somehow has dots of dye splattered onto it, making him look even more like a work of art than he normally does. 

His colourful gloved hands start a shooing motion, telling you to turn around once again so he can finish his job. You slump your shoulders in joking exaggeration, breathing out “You’re gonna make my hair go grey Matthew”. His laugh is immediate, “And then I’ll just dye over it again” his voice proud and smug as he drops a loud, overdramatic kiss to your shoulder, that act alone fracturing your annoyed facade, a large lovestruck smile breaking out onto your face.

“You make me want to scream sometimes”

“Oh I know, love”, you can practically hear the shit-eating grin in his sudden sultry voice as he decides to interpret this as innuendo.

His antics make you sigh once more as you lean your head back, looking up at his playful eyes, “Oh stop, you know I didn't mean it like that”.

His mischievous smile is hypnotising as you look up at him from below, his face upside down due to your awkward angle, “Oh sure you didn’t but I have enough memories of you screaming for me to last a lifetime so forgive me if your threat lacks substance sweetheart”

“Oh my god Matthew!”, the memories of pleasure-filled nights filling your mind and making you blush; even after all these years of dating he still has this effect on you so easily.

His amused laugh echoes in your ears once again, “Please, stop pretending to be innocent, we both know you like it”.

You suddenly feel very vulnerable, covered in hair dye and currently blushing and flustered from your boyfriend’s previous comment, “Behave and finish my hair now please”. 

“Anything you say love”.

He maneuvers your head forwards again to allow him to add some finishing touches to the art piece that is your hair, how there’s any part of your head not covered in dye at this point is a mystery to you but you let him entertain himself.

Once Matty had rinsed through your hair until the water ran clear, his fingers soothing as he ran them through the freshly coloured strands as well as the conditioner he had generously applied afterwards. 

When that too was rinsed out, he left you sitting on your shared bed like a wet dog while you towel-dry off your hair as he tries to clean up the multicoloured mess he had created in the bathroom. As you take the hairdryer to your hair Matty comes in from the other room, now changed into his ‘comfy clothes’ and wearing those tartan pyjama bottoms he knows you can never take your eyes off of. He walks slowly up to you from behind, wrapping his tattooed arms around your chest as he leans his head on your shoulder, looking at you in the tall mirror you both stand in front of. His eyes and smile are tired as he silently appreciates you and your new look, his thumbs rubbing slowly over your ribs and holding you flush to his cosy chest, an action that always feels like home.

Your hair is finally dry and Matty takes on the responsibility of being the one to brush it, slowly dragging the brush through your fresh hair and afterwards running his fingers through it once more, that motion alone bringing on a wave of sleep causing you to subconsciously lean back into him, your eyes fluttering shut at the contact. Matty begins carefully swaying you both side to side, still watching you intently in the mirror, leaving feather-light kisses in the crook of your neck, the urge to have them tattooed into your skin a constant desire. 

His voice is low as he sleepily mumbles into your skin, “New hair looks good y’know, always knew it would, you’d suit anything”. 

Your voice is light and appreciative as you thank him and watch your sleepy man of a boyfriend nuzzle closer into your body, his dark eyes making eye contact with yours as he leans up to drop a kiss to the side of your temple, 

“You look beautiful, my perfect little art piece”.

His reference to his pollock-like hairdressing style makes you giggle and turn around to hug him fully, his large arms more than welcoming as he holds you tight against his pyjama-clad torso once again, whispers of sleep swirling around you both and subconsciously dragging you back to bed.

[boundinparchment]

Dream a Little Dream of Me - XLIX

Celestia had a cruel sense of humor. He knew this, even before his days as a student. But to be given a soulmate? Now, when he openly blasphemed against the cursed island in the sky? He would outlive you and the dreadful fated bond that haunted your shared dreams. There was little point in this. He could at least put a Vision to good use. People were nothing but disappointments. He had no use for you. Until you pulled the bow across your instrument and awoke a part of him long buried by self-hatred and arrogance. Soulmate AU; Il Dottore/Female reader w/ established personality and backstory. Slow burn. Lore and world speculation and interpretation within; follows canon story where possible. Rated Explicit; MDNI. Mind the tags. Chapter also posted on AO3; accessible to registered users only.

Rare were the moments when your hand reached out beneath the sheets and comforters and found not only warmth but the source of it. Sunlight began to bleed through the cracks in the drapes, dawn grazing the mountainside like a forlorn lover. You rolled over and, in the dim light, found dilated crimson eyes already watching you.

You slipped your hand out of the sanctuary of the covers and traced the lines of Zandik’s jaw and neck. He shifted slightly under your touch and, as if on instinct, your feet and legs tangled with his. Half-awake, your breath hitched when you moved even closer, acutely aware of the precarious position of his thigh between yours and how little your nightwear did when your breasts pressed against his chest.

“Usually you’re up by now,” you murmured.

Zandik’s voice was laced with sleep, his chuckle more like a low rumble in his chest as his hand found your hair and played idly with a stray lock.

“I am discovering these moments are not to be taken for granted,” he replied.

“Perfect for observation, you mean.”

He turned his head and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist as your fingers grazed the hairline of his temple. You felt the twitch of the corner of his mouth and soft breath against your skin.

“Observation implies a lack of practical application. One of which happens to be that, for once, my thoughts are sharper, full of clarity when I’m around you. They were loud before, intrusive; the Segments and Omega muddled everything and for so long, I could not understand how or even if you were meant to find a place with me.”

The revelation was not entirely new. You were already aware of the deep-rooted sentiments and bias he held against the very fabric that kept you two together. Nonetheless, to hear it spoken tugged at your essence and warmth flooded through your chest. Your fingers reached and grazed at teal curls, as if you could hold this moment in your hands, keep it safe.

"This is different for you," you said softly. "Borderline romantic."

"I've been known to be charming from time to time."

You gave a skeptical hum, answered only by the careful graze of lips against yours and an arm ensnaring your waist. Heat flooded through you, running from your cheeks to your stomach, curling lower as your heart skipped. One kiss gave way to another, and then another, a hunger long buried awakening as you brushed your tongue against Zandik’s, deepening the kiss and unwilling to part.

This was so much better than the exploratory fragments of dreams before you saw his eyes. Better than the languid brushes of fingers and mingled breaths, long discussions that made you dizzy and left an ache behind when you woke.

An ache that accompanied a growing eagerness you wished wasn’t accompanied by a pang of shame and mingled with so many other memories impossible to tell apart.

More, more, more. You craved more. You craved him. Agency was yours, all you had to do was—

Leveraging your heel behind Zandik’s calf, you closed the remaining distance, pressing yourself against his thigh. You shuddered at the pressure against the clothed apex of your thighs, your wet heat searing despite the layers between you; his pants were tight and it was impossible to ignore that he too was eager. For a moment Zandik tensed, one of his hands beneath you on your waist as the other splayed across your lower back.

“I have been exceedingly curious about how else we fit together,” he whispered before he kissed you again, sucking slightly on your lower lip. “I have not found accurate accounts that do not devolve into poetic nonsense.”

It was your turn to smirk when you shifted your hips and pressed yourself further against him, friction sending a jolt through your aching core. The hand on your back exerted pressure and you bucked at the sweet jolt that ran through you. His member twitched.

You would be lying if you said you, too, were not intrigued. The mechanics were well-known, understood. But the sensations that arose in his presence, at his touch, were unconventional and akin to nothing describable except a grounding bliss. To experience what laid beyond that, to reclaim it, sang like a siren’s song.

Lips captured yours again, the kiss full of fervor, before they traveled along your jaw and the column of your neck. You gasped and bucked as he found the sensitive spot beneath your ear and in the curve near your shoulder.

“But I am not so eager that I would overlook the notion that patience is well-rewarded. For both of us.”

You swallowed a moan and pushed it to the back of your throat as the hand on your waist ghosted over your stomach and the curve of your breast, stopping to trace a circle around your nipple. His hand hovered, cupping the soft flesh only once before continuing up to dip beneath the neckline of your sleepwear. Your skin tingled as Zandik grazed the other side of your neck and collarbone, the area sensitive, untouched by most. Instinctively, you arched your back as you rolled your hips against his thigh; you were rewarded with the beginnings of a familiar low heat curling, tightening, and a soft cry escaped your lips in recognition.

No, no, you couldn’t...not without…

Reaching between you, your hand searched and found his hardness, his pants tight. You angled your hand to touch him through the fabric, palm against his length, but your muscles twitched with hesitation. Zandik’s hand left your collarbone and covered yours as he guided your hand down his member and back up through his pants.

“I don’t want to...not if you don’t…” you gasped. “Not fair…”

“You and your sense of fairness, rooh 'albi,” Zandik teased. He smirked before he kissed you again. “Not everything is so direct. Try again. Consider this akin to sight-reading.”

You nodded and Zandik let go of your hand. Slowly your fingers danced along his waistband and traced the hard planes of his abdomen. Further up, his chest, just as solid. Neither were incredibly defined but instead were the kind of muscle that came from use, not vanity exercises. In the dreams, when either of you attempted this, you never truly touched one another; you were only left with the vague sensation of being touched, like an echo of a shout in a cavern.

The goal of sight-reading was to feel the notes, get a sense of the rhythm and how one movement flowed into the next. You tried to sense the slight muscle twitch when your touch delved too far to the side or the sharp intake of breath when you grazed Zandik’s tricep, tracing the lines of muscle and earning a soft groan. He fought back a shudder when you went lower, brushing what you could reach of his forearm.

He was quiet as you continued your exploration, save the occasional change in his breathing that told you to try to recreate both the sound and the sensation.

Your fingers found their way across the expanse of his shoulders and upper back, feather-light as they ran up the back of his neck and traced his hairline. He shifted, rolling his head slightly, almost like a cat. Curious, you ran your fingers through his hair and he inhaled stiffly before he gave a soft exhale through his nose, as if working to keep himself quiet. You tried again, fingers seeking and this time keeping a slightly firmer hold as you gently tugged.

Zandik’s lips parted in a breathy gasp as the hand on your back pressed you back against his thigh, your desirous ache returning full force. Your knee, the one tucked between his legs, was precariously pressed against his member, his hips rolling twice in search of friction.

The sun had long since slipped through the seam in the drapes in full-force, bathing the room in a muted sea of golden light. It was well past when either of you usually awoke. Your head snapped towards the bedroom rooms closing the space off from the rest of the suite. Just beyond, you could hear breakfast being arranged by the dedicated staff member who always brought the food straight from the kitchen.

“To be continued another time,” Zandik whispered against your lips.

You untangled yourselves slowly, against either of your wishes, the chill in the room doing nothing for your burning desire. As you attempted to smooth your hair and wrapped yourself in a dressing gown, you couldn’t help but wonder what might have occurred had your morning routine not continued on its usual schedule.

Would your mind have cooperated? Or would your body have reacted on instinct, vision glazing over as you recognized the ceiling, knew the number of tiny motifs carved into the plaster high above? Would you have struggled to breathe as you willed your mind to separate Zandik from Omega from…

Something warm touched you and you flinched, coming to your senses as you recognized Zandik, half-dressed in front of you. Amusement as your still-recovering form barely masked the concern creasing his brow.

“ ...are you truly that dazed, my dear?”

“What if we can never...?”

The words left your lips before you fully formed the thought, the fear gripping you as you gestured to your head. What if you could never give neither of you that experience, that closure, that bliss? If you took the false memories out of the equation, who was to say you would fare any differently?

You tried, once or twice, although never with fellow musicians; it was never successful, never satisfying. Never like the teasing licks of fire that you felt with Zandik.

He stepped closer and tilted his head. His hand fixed the strand of hair tickling your face before resting against your cheek. You hardly ever felt his touch without his gloves and this would be the last time, at least for today.

“Omega pursued what he wanted regardless of boundaries. I have my faults but even I’m not capable of such acts,” he said. “We don’t have to until you’re ready, if you ever are. There are plenty of alternatives and I am never without the means nor drive to find more.”

“Thank you,” you said , the words caught in your throat.

You closed your eyes as a beat passed. Zandik wavered for a moment and then leaned forward to press a parting kiss to your forehead.

“As I said before, patience is something I have in abundance. It is never conducive to be fatalistic.”

Warmth blossomed between the syllables and sat in your chest to replace his lingering touch before the morning chill could snatch it away again.

[genericpuff]

I was reading your “to be fair” response and realized something. When you said that Apollo was never established to be a god of medicine I thought “but it’s established in the original myths” it hit me. This isn’t just a self insert story ITS A SELF INSERT FANFICTION! LOL Obviously you can have your own interpretation of any original story or myth and rewrite it. But the way LO is written you have to fill in so many gaps in with stuff already established in the original myths. A great example of Greek Mythology being written as an original story is Rick Riordan’s Percy Jackson series. To be fair I haven’t read it in a long time but if memory serves me correctly everything is explained as if no one knows what Greek mythology is. And sure it’s not perfectly accurate to the original but all the gaps are filled.

Right, it's such a pain because I always see people defend LO's writing choices as "well it's based on the myths so it's on you to do your research" but 1.) a story shouldn't require literal homework to read and enjoy, and 2.) the fact that it's based on the myths means nothing because it never follows those myths and can't even retain the original messaging behind the myths it fucks with LMAO Like it's not a good story on its own for those who don't know Greek myth and for those who do, it's just as if not more frustrating because of how much it butchers the original myths.

Hadestown and the Hades game are both great examples of Greek myth retellings that don't require you to have extensive knowledge of the myths BUT will reward you for it if you do through references and characterizations. Ex. if you know who the Fates are, you'll appreciate them more as narrators in Hadestown, and if you know about the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice, it'll feel far more rewarding to meet them in Hades and see the consequences of what happened after Orpheus failed to rescue her. Both stories still stand well on their own, but are supplemented by knowledge of the myths if you have it or choose to pursue it afterwards.