#we talk casually from this context but then they start seeking contact more and more

[lilgynt]

autistic social exclusion let’s talk about autistic social inclusion (but bad)

[yamalegacy]

genre: n/sfw, filthy filthy smut with a semblance of plot (this is me pretending it’s not just pure smut so i added some context tbh)

pairing(s): kayama nemuri (r-rated hero: midnight) x reader

cw: sub!reader, (technically gn) afab!reader, semi-public sex, desk sex (midnight bends you over her desk bc i said so), mommy!midnight, finger sucking, reader is struggling with anxiety if you “squint”, written with a 8/9-year age gap in mind (i’m shameless) but it’s not explicit

word count: a lot tbh 3.2k+

⚠️ MDNI not so casual reminder for minors to not interact with this post ⚠️

U.A. High School felt like an uncharted territory, some sort of a forbidden land that you shouldn't step into, and yet, here you are, standing just a few feet away from the enormous, heavy doors. The infamous U.A. Barrier that keeps those who don't belong in the school away — and to prove it, there is a line of journalists waiting outside. You aren't one of them, though, you aren't like them. Your Special Entry Permission ID is clutched tightly in your hand as you try to gather the courage to get through the small crowd of journalists.

Finally, you step forward, your breath catching in your throat as you approach the Barrier. You feel like even with your special permission, it won't open, leaving stranded out there. You've had the ID (courtesy of your girlfriend) for nearly three weeks now and never once dared to use it.

As the Barrier unfolds in front of your eyes, you can hear gasps of surprise behind you, and whispers of rumors making their way to your ears of full of spite. Jealousy. It's just jealousy, you tell yourself. You aren't doing anything wrong. Those people don't even know who you are, so it's nothing personal, really. But still, you feel your heart sink in your chest and your face burn at the sudden excessive amount of attention on you. Relief washes over you when the Barrier closes again behind you, shielding you from prying eyes and uncomfortable gossiping.

You take your phone out of the back pocket of your pants. 15:07. Nemuri's last class of the day is almost over. You breathe deeply as you struggle to remember what she told you about the layout of the school — she should be in the main building, with class 3-A (you don't remember her whole schedule, of course, but there's details that you just can't seem to be able to forget).

"You probably shouldn't be around here unaccompanied."

The voice startles you, and when you turn around to look at who addressed you, you are faced with a wall. A tall wall of muscles in a red costume. You look up and find an all too intense pair of red eyes staring at you.

Vlad King. Blood Hero: Vlad King is standing in front of you, staring at you, making you very small and definitely even more out of place than you already felt. Too intense. But when his eyes land of your Permission ID, he seems to relax — the man is still too intense though.

"I need to find 3-A?" your voice comes out a little too squeaky for your liking.

He frowns for a moment, visibly thinking your words over. "Midnight's with them?"

Though he speaks out loud, it seems to be more to himself than to you. Still, you nod shyly, and it's like something lights up in his head, understanding replacing his frown.

"You're the partner!"

You don't need a mirror to know that your face is turning a bright shade of red that could rival Vlad King's costume, and all you can do is nod again. Nemuri has talked about you to her colleagues? God, you hope she hasn't said anything embarrassing.

"Follow me then!"

Before you can say anything, Vlad King is making his way towards a staircase. You need to nearly run to catch up with him. "I had lunch with her today. Didn't say anything about you coming to U.A. though."

"It's a surprise?" you offer hesitantly. “I managed to get out of work early for once, so I thought..." you trail off, realizing that you are already talking more than you should, more than you usually would with a stranger. Your face is definitely not doing to stop blushing any time soon, and the erratic beating of your heart isn't about to calm down any sooner.

Just as can finally see the classroom, the bell rings and students swarm the corridor — Vlad King has a hand on your shoulder and keeps you away from students all too excited to get back to their dorms. Nemuri's students stare at the two of you in passing; a blond boy and a girl with periwinkle hair even more curiously so than the others, but Vlad King's presence by your side probably stops them from asking questions.

"Hey, Midnight, there's someone here to see you!" the Pro Hero booms as soon as the corridor is nearly empty.

You can't help but noticed the way Nemuri's shoulders tense at the loud exclamation, a tension that almost disappears when her eyes find you. But there's a frown creasing her brow as soon as her gaze lands on Vlad King's large hand, still resting comfortably on your shoulder.

"You should have said something about your little partner being this cute," he continues, patting your shoulder with just a bit too much force, and the gesture makes Nemuri's eyes narrow. "I'll let you two be then!"

He doesn't wait a second, doesn't acknowledge Nemuri opening her mouth to say something, before he steps away, immediately striking a conversation with one of the few students still present in the corridor.

When you look back at your girlfriend, she is simply staring at you, and you can't find the courage to take a step inside the classroom, instead standing awkwardly in the doorway. Shit. What are you? A vampire waiting for an invitation to come in someone's home or something?

"Sorry I came unannounced. I probably made things awkward for you," you mumble, staring down at your feet as you can't find it in you to look at her in the eyes.

"Don't apologize, sweetheart. I'm always happy to see your pretty face." The words make you look up, and Nemuri is staring at you, soft smile tugging at your lips as she crooks a finger to beckon you — and oh so obediently, you step inside the classroom.

She stands up from her chair and approaches, a soft hand immediately placed on your cheek, gentle and warm, though her face remains impossible to read. "Did Kan-san treat you well?"

You nod. "He was really nice," you say, your voice still betraying your nerves. Nemuri's thumb strokes your cheek once, twice, before she lowers her hand your shoulder, where Vlad King's was moments ago. It would be soothing if her perfectly manicured red nails weren't digging into your skin ever so slightly. "But he's still scary," you add hurriedly. Nemuri loosens her grip, but her hand doesn't move away.

Maybe Vlad King isn't quite as scary as a jealous Midnight. (And he isn't nearly as hot either.)

She leans in and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, it's brief and she pulls away almost immediately to retreat and settle back down in her chair. As she watches you, you freeze, unable to even take one step forward. There's that look in Nemuri's eyes, the one that make a shiver run up your spine and makes you want to press your thighs together.

"Baby, close the door for me and come here."

Always seeking to please your girlfriend, you obey without saying a word, pushing the heavy door until it’s closed. You turn back to look at Nemuri again and she is waiting, hands settled on her lap as she stares at you, unblinking. Hesitantly, shaking on your legs, you approach her, knowing that you are but a small prey rushing into the claws of your predator; the smirk that tugs at the corner of her mouth only confirms it.

As soon as you’re close enough, Nemuri grabs you by the hips and pulls you closer, guiding you onto her lap, forcing you to straddle her thighs. 

“You came all the way here from work just to see me?”

You nod at her question, and she nearly coos at you in response. “You’re so sweet, baby,” she whispers against your lips before giving your mouth a faint peck. “Always so nice and good for me, aren’t you?”

You nod again. One of her hands moves away from your hips and you know to brace yourself, but you still let out a yelp when her palm comes into contact with your ass — it’s playful, you know she hasn’t put much of her strength in it, but Nemuri is a lot stronger than most give her credit for.

“Y-Yes! I am!” You stutter your way through the three simple words. Nemuri is obviously in one of those moods where she expects you to be verbal when she talks to you, that’s what earned you the spank, there’s not a doubt in your mind about it. It’s a dangerous mood for your girlfriend to be in at her work place; there’d be nothing reasonable about whatever she has in mind.

You try to stand up, but Nemuri’s grip on you keeps you firmly where she wants you.

“Nemuri,” you whine, “we shouldn’t...”

“We shouldn’t what, baby?” she asks, smirking up at you before tilting her head to kiss your neck.

“Not here...”

You feel her teeth scrape against the sensitive skin of your neck (you know she is leaving a bruise, but you can’t stop her, don’t even want to stop her) and the moan that escapes your throat is embarrassing.

“What can’t we do?” she insists.

"I know you, Nemuri," you start, placing your hands on her shoulders to keep yourself balanced and stable as her lips found your pulse point. Your breathing is already getting ragged, and you know, just as you know Nemuri wants to fuck you, that you are dripping wet. "This is your work place," you whisper, "we can't have sex here."

She chuckles at your words, and all you want is to bury your face in her neck, in her hair, to hide your reddening cheeks. She pulls away, kisses your cheek in the most delicate of manners, and looks at you, seeming all too serious all of a sudden — which means that she's definitely up to something.

“I don’t know about having sex, but I could definitely fuck you. Right here, right now.”

“Nemuri,” your voice doesn’t sound anywhere near the tone of warning you aimed for. It’s embarrassing. But at least you could have sounded whinier, so there’s still a sliver of hope for your dignity to make it through the day.

She offers you a smile when you finally look back at her face; it’s a soft and genuinely kind smile, no trace of teasing.

“If you don’t want me to touch you, I’ll stop and let you go, I promise. But you have to tell me, baby.”

You already knew that Nemuri wouldn’t push you to do anything that you don’t want to do; she has always been caring and respectful of you, but still, it is reassuring to hear the words in this moment. But you don’t want her to stop.

“Do you want me to stop touching you, sweetheart?”

You shake your head. “N-No!” you hurry to say before Nemuri has a reason to give you another spank.

"What do you want, then?" Her sultry tone sends a shiver up your spine

You don't like that question; you've never liked it in any sort of context. There are too many possibilities, too many ways to answer and it's too much. The thought that you may say the wrong thing plagues your mind every time. Nemuri seems to notice your growing distress, and caresses your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin, once, twice. She leans her forehead against yours.

The silence that settles between the two of you is comfortable, barely interrupted by your heavy breathing. It’s hard to catch your breath when you are sitting on the lap of the most beautiful woman you’ve ever met — when all of her attention is on you, just you, nothing else.

“Can I take off your pants and touch you, baby?” Nemuri asks, finally breaking the silence.

“Please.”

Nemuri smiles and guides you off her lap, but her hands remain on your hips as she does so, keeping you up on your feet as your legs tremble. She unbuttons your pants and meets your eyes with her own, probably trying to look for any sign that you might want to put a stop to everything, but when all she can see is your smile and flushed face, she pulls down your zipper. You swallow thickly as you watch her hook her thumbs into the waistline of your pants to tug them down. She kneels down in front of you to push your pants past your knees and helps you step out of one of the legs — only one though.

Her eyes trail up your body, lingering on your underwear, and you hide your face in your hands, refusing to look at the satisfied smirk on her lips. You’re so wet already that you’ve soaked through your underwear, you just know it, and there’s no way in hell Nemuri hasn’t noticed it.

She kisses your thighs and quickly moves to press her mouth to your core. Through the dampened fabric of your underwear, you feel her tongue peeking out past her lips to tease your clit. The moan that her tongue elicits is indecent and embarrassingly loud, it makes Nemuri chuckle against you, the vibrations making your body shake violently.

“Please don’t tease,” you mutter. She looks up at you and you bite down on your lip for a second, “please, mommy. No teasing.”

“Since my baby asked so nicely,” she starts as her fingers grab your underwear to pull it down, “mommy will be nice today,” she whispers against your cunt before standing back up.

She circles around you silently, stopping behind you. When you turn your head to glance above your shoulder to see what Nemuri is up to, you feel strong fingers on your neck, her palm warm against the back of it. She presses against your neck until you obediently bend down over her desk; she doesn’t bother moving her papers away, simply forcing your face down against it.

“Hands on the desk. And don’t you dare move or I’ll make sure you can’t sit properly for days.”

You don't need to be told twice; your hands find the edge of the desk, gripping at it like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to keep yourself from shaking. You know she is staring at you, at your ass, at your dripping cunt, like you're the most beautiful thing she's ever looked at. It's what she always does. And yet, its effect on you never changes.

She kicks at one of your feet, not hard, just a way for her to signal that she wants you to spread your legs further for her, which you do. A gentle finger runs up the inner side of your thigh, stopping just before it can reach your most sensitive spot.

"I haven't even started to touch you and you're already dripping," she says as she leans down, her ample chest flush against your back and hips against your ass. "Such a desperate little slut for me."

Nemuri kisses your neck before standing back up, and you whine as her comforting warmth leaves your body. All you want is to feel her, but she keeps denying you.

"Don't worry, baby. You've been good for mommy, so I'll treat you well and make you come."

"Pl—Please! Mommy, I need you!"

She hums, delighted by the pathetic desperation in your voice. You hear her move behind you, and all of a sudden, she's spreading your lower lips and her tongue teases your core.

"Fuck," you groan, knees bucking at the sudden touch and pleasure rushing through your whole body.

She laps at your cunt, humming again in delight, satisfied by your taste. Her thumb finds your clit, pressing her thumb harshly against it before she starts to circle it, the movements quicken to reach the punishing pace that you've grown accustomed to throughout your relationship with Nemuri.

Tension builds in the pit of your stomach, your grip on the Nemuri's desk the only thing that keeps you stable as she fucks you with her tongue. You're getting close to release at an alarming, embarrassing speed, and for a moment, you think you can feel your girlfriend smile against your pussy.

"I'm so close," you moan, "please—"

And just like that, everything stops. You can't feel Nemuri's tongue, or hands, or breath on your skin, and you whine in the most pitiful of manners. Tears are welling up in your eyes. You need her to make you come. Before you can whine once more and complain about wanting an orgasm, two of her fingers are pushing against your hole.

You're so wet and turned on that her fingers meet no resistance as she pushes then into your sopping cunt. She doesn't move them though, simply kisses both your ass cheeks.

"Mommy..." you whimper weakly.

"Yes, baby? Is there something you want?"

"Please—"

You're sobbing and too desperate to care about how wrecked and miserable you must seem right now.

"Please what?"

"Mommy," you whimper, voice trembling just as much as your limbs. "I need you to fuck me! Please!"

"You're so good for me today, baby," she coos as she gives your ass a harsh squeeze, her fingers still unmoving deep inside your core. "Keep being good for me and try not to be too loud. We wouldn't want anyone to get curious and find us like that, would we?"

And finally, Nemuri starts fucking you with her fingers, pumping them in and out your cunt at a merciless pace. Your muscles clench around her fingers as she fucks you, her free hand sneaking between your thighs to pinch your clit between two fingers. You have to bite on your arm to keep yourself from screaming at the sudden sensation.

"Mommy— I'm gonna—"

"It's okay, baby, you can come for me."

And you do. You come on her fingers, muffling your screams into your arm. She helps you ride out your orgasm, fingers moving gently into you until your breathing becomes even and she pulls them out. She wraps an arm around your waist and guides you to her chair, sitting you there, setting one knee next to your thigh. She takes your chin between her thumb and index finger and tilts your head; you can feel a sticky wetness on your skin and you know it's your juices coating her fingers.

She kisses you and, out habit, you part your lips to grant her tongue access. You can taste yourself in her mouth, it's embarrassing but you can't pull away.

"Open up, baby," she demands, letting go out your chin to press her drenched fingers against your lips.

You gladly take them into your mouth, lips wrapping around her fingers to suck on them, tongue twirling around them to clean them up of your slick arousal.

Nemuri kisses your forehead, "you're so cute, baby, always so good and obedient for mommy," she whispers, smiling softly at you. "I really should consider keeping a strapon in my things in case you come see me at school again."

"You can always fuck me with a strapon when we get home," you mumble, unable to meet her eyes as your face flushes all over again.

"Oh, I intend to, my sweet baby."

[cowboyjen68]

Hello Jen,

First of all, thank you for everything that you‘re doing, it really helps a lot of us.

I recently went on my first date with another woman. We grabbed a couple of beers and then ate something outside (in my country, restaurants are opening up again). Even though I had a great time, I was still really nervous that other people would figure out that we were on a date, although we didn‘t kiss or hold hands. My date looks more „stereotypically“ lesbian, so that also fed into my anxiety. Every time someone looked our way, I automatically thought that we had been found out. I know that there is nothing wrong with being gay and my country is relatively progressive in regards to same-sex relationships, but still, I cannot get rid of my internalised shame. Do you have any advice of overcoming hypervigilance when going on dates in public? I don‘t want to live my life in fear and shame.

I have never, even when I thought I was, been able to hide the fact that I am butch (therefore lesbian) or at the very least different from what society deems "womanly". When I am with any other woman, date or otherwise, especially if she is more feminine than me, i am pretty sure others assume we are a lesbian couple. I know this from experience.

When I am with a more feminine women (like my girlfriend) I am much more alert to my surroundings for her protection and for mine BUT it is not hyper vigilant anymore. It can also depend on surroundings. In my home town I am more comfortable. If in the bigger city I am more alert.

In the past if someone yelled "lesbians" at my gf and I, I would have prepared for the worst. The last time it happened we were having ice cream on a road trip in a tiny, unfamiliar town. We both looked up when a dude drove by in his truck and yelled out of his window "LESBIANS!". We casually waved and the people around us laughed. We didn't even muster concern.

Here is how I handle the nervousness, and what helped me push past feeling bad or dirty about being publicly out. And you are certainly not alone in feeling guilt or feeling bad about being recognized for a lesbian. It is very common.

Once I owned it and started to hang around other lesbians who just "were" it taught me that I have every right to be who I am. ( of course I am talking within the context of relatively safe environments) They just existed. Some were loud and proud but others were just of the mind set "being a lesbian is who I am and if ya don't like it that is your problem.. not mine". I realized that if I loved who I was others were less likely to have a problem with me. If I expressed joy and happiness in my existence others didn't see an opening to take a jab at me.

It is the same theory that when you meet someone and they love something you previously deemed as silly or stupid... like comic books or a certain movie. But they love it and talking about about it makes them happy. You just sort of have less reason to tease them because they aren't ashamed. And they are normalizing that thing as good and worthy of happiness.

If you act like being a lesbian is the most natural thing in the world (and it is if you let it) then others will pick up that cue. I smile and say "hi" when I get that eye contact of "they are lesbians". And more often than not it disarms and they smile back because most of us have that sense of decorum.

It is important to be aware of your surroundings (there is a reason we seek other gay people at parties and gatherings... it is good to know where you allies are). But it should not be from shame or disgrace, but from a realistic awareness of our environment.

Don't worry about the thoughts of others.. you can't control that anyway. Enjoy the time on the date. The other woman deserves your attention and time.. don't give that energy to people you have no way to control.

[365daysofsasuhina]

[ @sasuhinabigflash2020​​ || Day Twenty-Two: Out to Dinner ] [ Uchiha Sasuke, Hyūga Hinata ] [ SasuHina ] [ Verse: Best Years of Your Life ] [ AO3 Link ]

[ Previous ] [ Next ] [ This piece is a sequel to Day Seventeen ]

To say that their meeting was awkward was...a bit of an understatement.

For months, both Sasuke and Hinata have lived under a rather unusual assumption: that they were each the last person left on earth. One morning they’d woken, made to address their family...only to find their homes empty. Their neighborhoods...empty.

The entire city - and presumably the rest of the world - completely and utterly empty.

And yet strange phenomena seemed to keep life running as normal. Electricity never wavered. Food in stores didn’t rot. To both, it felt like being trapped in a strange gap in time. A limbo they had been dropped into with no context, no warning.

But then, while each looking to plunder a local grocery store...they’d finally managed to cross paths, each completely taken aback at the knowledge that they were no longer alone.

That didn’t make it any easier to accept, however, the meeting standoffish and each seemingly wary and suspicious. But they’d exchanged numbers, agreeing to - should the need arise - communicate with one another.

And after a week...neither has dared bridge that gap.

Sasuke, for his part, has actually adapted to the loneliness rather well. At first he mourned his missing family deeply. While theirs had been far from perfect, having them suddenly vanish left him more hollow than he could ever describe. But after an intense two weeks that nearly saw him deciding to try and join them...he’d instead become resolute. So...he was left alone to survive on his own, was he? Then he’d do it...and do it well.

And for months he’d done just that. Managed his food supply, ensured the care and defense of his home (even if there was, assumably, no one to seek to harm it...one could never be too careful), and kept himself guarded and ready for anything.

...well, almost anything.

He’d mostly been simply scouting out parts of his city he didn’t know well, taking several large bags with him to grab whatever looked useful. He had closer places to find food. But he was there, and it was ripe for the taking.

Or so he thought.

Seeing the girl, Hinata, had startled him in a way he had in no way expected. So...he wasn’t the last. Maybe they weren’t, either. Perhaps there are more somewhere, just waiting to be found.

But Sasuke had already decided he was fine not knowing. Hinata was a surprise, and a pleasant one. But that didn’t inspire some inclination to go looking for others. He had his domain and his necessities. He was fine as he was, thank you very much.

...and yet…

Every time he checks his phone, seeing her contact information...he debates sending some kind of message. What would he even say…? They’re complete strangers. He knows nothing about her, let alone something to talk about.

And yet...he wants to. Not because he’s lonely, he assures himself. But just because he’s curious. And it’s something new. Something to break up the monotony.

So after a week of deliberation, he sends his first text.

You there?

Casual enough, right? And he manages to put the mobile aside rather than wait for an answer...which comes seven minutes later.

Sorry, was in my garden! Do you need something?

Well, no. He doesn’t need anything. Nope. Just checking in. Kinda weird, tbh.

A minute passes. Yes, I know what you mean. Odd to talk to someone after so long.

...he reaches an impasse. Now what…? How is your garden?

Good! It’s just flowers. I wanted to grow something edible, but...ran out of time. Maybe next year, if...you know.

Ah yes. Winter. The thing both of them have been dreading, wondering if any problems yet to surface may in fact rear their ugly heads. I bet you’ll get around to it. I dunno anything about plants, so...don’t ask me.

They’re not that hard to learn about. I could teach you, if you wanted?

That earns a blink. Sure.

...another awkward silence.

Can I ask you a really random question?

Sure?

Okay. Just act cool. Do you want to like...meet up or something? I dunno, just seems like maybe we should at least get to know the basics about each other, all things considered. Right?

To his worry, she doesn’t respond for several agonizing minutes. Did he ask too quickly? Is something wrong?

Yeah! Sorry, there’s some loose animals in my neighborhood and one of the dogs keeps coming into my yard and digging in the flowerbeds...

Sasuke blinks. Maybe you need a fence.

Ha, maybe.

I could help you build one. I helped my dad build ours a few years ago. I kinda know how it works.

...you would?

Sure. Not much else to do, right?

There’s a brief silence as she seems to mull that over. ...okay! I’ll make you some dinner to pay you back, okay?

You don’t have to do that.

No, but I want to. It’s only fair.

Well, seems there’s no changing her mind. All right. When would you wanna start?

Doesn’t matter to me! Like you say...what else is there to do?

Nodding to himself, Sasuke replies, How about tomorrow? I know where a hardware store is, and I have my dad’s pickup. I’ll get the stuff today and head over then.

Okay! I’m...kind of excited!

All right, see you then.

...okay. He’ll admit it. He’s a little excited. Mostly because this is his first real social interaction in months. So off to the store he heads, asking Hinata for details of what she wants.

It’s not like price is an issue. Mostly just effort. And Sasuke’s got plenty of that to spare.

She decides on a privacy board fence, just to make sure the animals keep out. And he even picks up white paint and brushes for them to make it match her house. By the time tomorrow rolls around, he’s more than prepared. Boards, posts, nails, hammers, paint...he’s got it all.

They get started early in the morning, Sasuke showing her the basics and letting her help...until she smashes her thumb with a hammer. She’s then directed to painting duty, covering up the boards as he gets them tacked up.

A few breaks are taken to drink lemonade she took to making before he got there, as well as lunch. But it’s dinner she promises will be what helps make up for all his hard work.

By early evening, they’ve actually gotten it all up. Hinata insists she can finish the painting herself the next day. “For now, it’s time for dinner!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” In truth? He’s starving. Been a while since he’s worked that hard, but it was nice.

Inside, Hinata’s gone all out. An entire ham is taken out of the oven alongside potatoes, salad, and a cherry pie.

“...I think you went a little overboard,” Sasuke observes, perking a brow as she blushes pink.

“I just...w-wanted it to be worth all you did today. I still don’t think it’s enough, really…”

“It’s fine. Like I said, it was something to do. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

The pair stand at an impasse before Hinata relents with a giggle. “Okay, okay...we’ll just call it even.”

Hinata, as it turns out, is a really good cook. Before Sasuke realizes it, he’s overeaten, having had two full plates of everything and feeling miserable.

“No room for pie?” she teases.

“Ugh, no…”

“Well, you can just t-take some home, then. Have it for breakfast tomorrow!”

He just nods, knowing he can’t tell her no. But he does help tidy up and put things away. “Think I might have to help you build fence more often if I get to eat like that.”

She flashes pink again, clearly pleased. “Y-you can come over any time! I guess just, um...give me a little warning.”

“Sure. Let me know if you need help with anything else.”

“I will! Thank you again.”

“Back at you.”

...an awkward silence blooms between them.

“Well, I...guess I’ll say goodnight…?” Hinata offers, sounding more like a question.

“Yeah. Have a nice night, Hinata.”

“You too, Sasuke. Drive home safe.”

“Not like there’s much traffic to worry about,” he counters with a grin.

“Still -!”

“I will, don’t worry.” Giving a wave, he returns to his father’s truck and revs the engine, headlights flicked on. The drive is quiet, and by the time he gets back to his house, the silence - after such a full day - is almost suffocating.

He stares up at the house he’s grown up in, seeing how dark all the windows are. How quiet it is. So, just to ward off the feeling, he shoots Hinata a quick text to let her know he made it back without incident.

Glad to hear it! Goodnight.

Night.

Considering his phone for a moment, he can’t help but wonder when would be long enough to wait to see if he can head back. Was kinda nice to go ‘out’ to dinner. He’s not much of a cook, himself. Enough to get by, but nothing like what they had.

He’ll just have to wait and see.

     I swear I tried to get this done last night but oof, my brain was not cooperating OTL I had a rather stressful day, BUT things are looking better today! So I’m gonna try to get at least one more drabble done today, if not more, cuz I am...very behind. I’ve just had a lot going on irl that makes sitting and writing difficult.      ANYWAY! This is more of the very random “last people on earth” verse I started with day 17. Our two stranded strangers are starting to become friends, seems like! No idea if I’ll do more of this for the rest of the challenge, but it’s a neat idea to explore. I just...don’t have much in way of a plot for it xD But hopefully it’s enjoyable nonetheless!      On that note, I’m gonna try to get another piece done. But thanks for reading this one, and I’ll see you guys later!

[cardedge7]

Workplace Mediation Solution.

Workplace Mediation, Manchester, Cheshire & North West.

Content

Service.

Speak With Those Who Have Utilized The Solution.

It can be viewed as an expensive process if an end result can not be gotten to. It is consequently just beneficial if both events are prepared to endanger.

These issues are gone over and also if you reach a contract the mediator will certainly write it down for you and also make sure it states what you both desire it to say. Everybody indicators the agreement and also you decide who else, if any person, need to see a duplicate. If you are unpleasant with sharing the joint arrangement with people who are not in the area after that a decision is made about what, if anything, to show the person or individuals that referred you to mediation. The major drawback of mediation is that there is no warranty of a resolution.

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That usually leaves a circumstance where both individuals associated with the grievance need to proceed working together. Mediation can aid there by repairing the relationships so that the two can find a way to co-work efficiently. The mediation enabled both celebrations to explore where their working partnership was going wrong, as well as review what they both gotten out of each other. With their new understanding of the other events' viewpoint two contracts were drawn up. The 2nd agreement was for circulation to their supervisor and also it set out modifications in work techniques that they both wanted to see for the future. They remained in the same division and reported to the same department manager. Fiona had actually really felt under pressure from Jenni since she joined the company.

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The mediator does not take sides, make decisions, or give legal advice; their only role is to facilitate respectful conversation. The parties' lawyer may participate in the process and attend mediation meetings. Before the mediation process commences, parties may draft and sign a mediation agreement.

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Generally, we would permit someday for every mediation session as well as there is likewise additional contact made with all parties, in the lead as much as and also adhering to mediation. It is vital that all individuals agree to join the mediation process, in order for mediation to take place. The dominating purpose of workplace mediation is to restore and maintain excellent and effective functioning relationships. The dispute centred around promo possibilities as well as arrangements between a manger and her supervisor.

The moderator will bring the conferences to a close, give a duplicate of the concurred statement to those involved and explain their duties for its application. If mediation services norwich is reached, various other treatments might later be utilized to attempt to solve the conflict.

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To start with, the mediator meets with each celebration independently to comprehend their experience of the problem, their setting as well as interests and also what they wish to happen following. During these meetings, the arbitrator will certainly likewise look for arrangement from the celebrations to an assisted in joint conference. A qualified conciliator's function is to function as an unbiased 3rd party who helps with a meeting in between two or more individuals in disagreement to aid them get to an agreement. Although the arbitrator is in charge of the procedure, any kind of agreement originates from those in dispute.

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Every person will have had a possibility to be heard, which can assist to boost the understanding of both sides moving forward. Workplace mediation is an increasingly preferred technique embraced by several organisations as an alternative means of solving workplace disputes.

The moderator holds both of you to the ground rules and makes sure you have equal time to speak as well as to listen to every other. You will be advised by the arbitrator regarding the procedure as well as just how much time to publication out of your journal. Typically, for a two-person mediation you will be asked to allot a complete day for the mediation session. Private meetings usually begin at 9.30 am or 11am, the joint meeting usually start at 1pm and also continues till 4pm, nevertheless, timings can be versatile on the day. At the beginning of the mediation you are asked to authorize a Privacy and also Responsibility Arrangement. This record likewise advises you that the mediator can not provide legal suggestions which the material of the mediation conversation is personal, it can not be utilized in any future procedures or procedures that you might be associated with.

How do you talk during mediation?

How to Talk and Listen Effectively in Mediation 1. Strive to understand through active listening. In trial, litigants address juries in their opening statements and final arguments. 2. Avoid communication barriers. 3. Watch your nonverbal communication. 4. Be ready to deal with emotions at mediation. 5. Focus on the facts. 6. Use your mediator and limit caucuses. 7. Conclusion.

She increased the problem with her department manager; however, she really felt that absolutely nothing had actually changed. When both parties consented to mediation they were both charging the various other of bullying and harassment. Work Law Updates for very early is set to be a fascinating year, not the very least with Brexit day fast coming close to. In spite of the uncertainty that Brexit has created, HR specialists as well as entrepreneur still have to guarantee they are up-to-date with what's in store in employment law adjustments that we do recognize will certainly occur.

Following the exchange of the statements, the moderators facilitate private conversations between the celebrations. There are various designs or approaches of mediation that might appropriate relying on the context as well as organisational society. These array from a casual peer-based mediation to a more official mediation procedure with an independent mediator. If business mediation services portsmouth would certainly such as more information on workplace mediation, or to discuss a scenario that you really feel mediation might help in, please call Åsa Waring. The future has actually never ever been more unforeseeable, demanding or challenging.

HR experts, employment lawyers, trade union representatives, elderly and middle supervisors, team leaders and also people managing difficult and also sensitive concerns. Workplace Mediation is the procedure in which a mediator aids conversations in between a company, administration or employees, to get to an option that works for everybody. Mediation aids individuals solve distinctions to their common complete satisfaction and also to the fulfillment of the business making sure efficient teamwork going forward raising performance and lowering administration time. Mediation is cost and time effective and also generates lasting remedies to conflict. Workplace conflict can have a significant influence on your service, both in regards to monitoring time as well as efficiency. Being equipped with the best approach to take on these high-emotion as well as often multi-party cases can provide mediators an edge and also the appropriate method to support organisations in their times of problem. Workplace mediation can help to solve the position for example where a grievance has actually been handled.

The dispute had actually intensified to a factor where the department was no more able to operate successfully, as well as the manager was being paid to continue to be in your home pending further examination right into the issue. Mediation is a procedure designed to put the parties back in charge of the circumstance and also to choose based on the fullness of the circumstances. An expert conciliator's primary inspiration will certainly be guarantee that the process works by upholding the concepts of impartiality and also privacy, and that the celebrations are provided every possibility to get the most out of it. We will certainly be on your side through every step of a workplace conflict to help you solve the problem as promptly and friendly as possible, call us today on for more info.

The court supplied mediation service is complimentary and also you do not require to execute a great deal of preparation before the mediation occurs.

Generally the parties split the price of the conciliator as well as this joint investment in seeking a resolution includes in each event's dedication to the procedure.

Mediation has a superb success price implying that any type of party choosing to moderate has an excellent opportunity of the disagreement being settled there and afterwards.

If the case settles, you can prevent the anxiety and also time of the test and also preparing for it.

Never prior to has there been so much details to absorb, so many social and company networks to navigate, therefore several economic, political and social concerns to confront. Any documents of the conversations that take place during mediation are destroyed and remain confidential in between those taking part in the mediation unless they otherwise mutually accept share the activity plan with their manager. desires to provide a possibility to fix any concerns that arise with mediation. The second component of the certification requirements consists of written tasks. Delegates are called for to submit a thorough portfolio in feedback to set inquiries that cover a variety of concepts covered in the course. Locations covered include dispute theory in mediation, transformative mediation, individuals abilities in the mediation process and also assisting in mediation. Delegates have 14 days from completion of the fifth day of the training course to finish the composed jobs.

[artificialqueens]

sometimes a fantasy [is all you need] (branjie) -- frenchy

a/n: hi hello!! i’m frenchy, & this is my first fic on here, despite being a longtime reader!! i sent an ask addressing my inspiration to write a branjie get-back-together fic, where they are hiding their still existing feelings behind a pr stunt/their social media interactions & fall back together through these/acknowledge that it’s deeper than they are pretending. it seemed to interest quite a few people so here she is!! this can be read as a long one shot, but considering how much content they are providing us with, i may continue it?? maybe!

ps. this does not include all the things they’ve posted thus far, but i will definitely try to include most of what we’ve seen so far as references/plot points in future parts if i continue this! ! this takes place while the show is airing, beginning action-wise after episode 4’s airing. it heavily involves the video with branjie that nina west posted on her instagram a few days ago! also, i am not giving into the assumption that they are actually broken up, but in the context of this fic, those rumors are true! okay that is enough, i am super excited about this, i hope you all enjoy ahhh!! <3

@Bhytes1: Hey Papi

@VanessaVanjie: @Bhytes1 What

*****

It had begun innocently enough.

Or, at least, that’s what the both of them would claim if ever asked about it. A tweet or two there, a cryptic emoji-strung comment here, and a handful of tooth-rotting gif interactions. It was almost rare for a day to pass without at least once mentioning of each other through social media, whether direct or not.

Brooke Lynn recognized the necessity for this. They both did. That’s why they were doing it.

They hadn’t necessarily discussed the inevitability of fans indulging in their on-screen romance, but there was an unspoken agreement between them, as well as with their fellow RuGirls. No one would bring up their current relationship status, and all would remain playful – that’s how fanservice worked, after all. Give the fans what they wanted, to ensure they would stay in tow. It reaped many a benefit not only for the show’s ratings, but for the queens involved. The season was only a few episodes deep, and already the interest in Brooke Lynn and Vanessa had spiked – both as a duo, and as individual performers. Brooke liked to believe it was her own doing that attracted so many new fans at such an early stage, though she had to give some credit to her more widely known castmate.

Still, as harmless as it posed to be, it didn’t take long for them to be accused of insincerity. A dozen tweets couldn’t change the fact that they were no longer together, that their relationship had ended before the season had even begun airing. They knew it, their fellow queens knew it – hell, half the fans knew it, even if they had not disclosed it officially. The fandom they found themselves thrust into wasn’t one unknown for spreading gossip and spoilers. The breakup had gone smoothly for the most part, at least when concerned with the public eye. It had been a quick discussion, albeit a tense one: was it smart to remain together when their lives were about to be changed? The two of them were self-aware and smart enough to recognize that their personal growth required separation. That the glorification of their growing relationship on TV would only put a strain on what they had in the present. Neither of them wanted to risk the prospect of resentment.

But they were being proven wrong, day by day. They talked and responded to each other every day, typically without any push from outside sources. They found themselves going from simply answering questions about each other and acknowledging fan reactions, to seeking out each other, interacting with no prompting. It was for the fans, yes, but Brooke never sensed any tension between the two of them. Maybe she was misinterpreting, but she and Vanessa seemed to do the whole “indulging the fans” thing flawlessly. Wishful thinking, perhaps.

And that’s what led them to where they were tonight, in a small office at REBAR Chelsea, too many people for too small a room. The music was almost deafening outside the walls, but was no match for the voices in said room. Specifically, Vanessa. Loud, brazen Vanessa Vanjie Mateo, in a glittery upside-down jersey dress, off her shoulders, her makeup freshly set and her adrenaline pumping even before having stepped out onstage for the night. She had been meticulously placing her blonde wig on her head in the mirror, making an effort to chime in more-than-occasionally to the conversation Nina West found herself deep in with a friend, despite being across the room. Brooke opted to sit in the corner, scrolling through her phone, Vanessa being the sole one of the three of them in drag for the night.

“More than iconic, really. The fans love it,” Nina’s friend had said, prompting Brooke to glance towards them. She hadn’t been paying attention to what was being said, though the mention of fans always peaked her interest. “Definitely need a recreation of that iconic moment at the reunion.”

“Iconic moment?” Brooke asked through a growing smile, interrupting, causing heads to turn towards the new voice contributing to the conversation. Nina laughed, with a hint of hesitation, turning her body fully to face Brooke, still sat in the corner of the seemingly-shrinking room.

She nodded enthusiastically, eyebrows up. “Untucked. Y’know how funny everyone found my reaction to you and Vanessa?” Nina clarified, gesturing towards the mentioned queen, who glanced at them through the reflection of the body-length mirror, still messing with her wig.

Brooke made a noise of understanding. “They live for their memes, bitch,” she answered. Naturally, she had seen the uproar that the last Untucked had caused, specifically when concerned with Nina’s shock towards the kiss. Brooke heard Vanessa laugh under her breath, accompanied by a curt nod signifying her agreement to Brooke’s statement.

“It’s crazy,” Nina nodded as well, proceeding to take a sip from the glass of water she held tightly in her right hand. She was halfway through swallowing when her eyes widened, an excited yet smug smile bringing the conversation back from its natural pause. “Why wait for the reunion? I mean, like, it’s fresh right now! Imagine how funny a recreation would be if we made it right now. We’re all here, aren’t we?” She nodded towards Vanessa before looking back to Brooke.

“So, milk it?”

“You and Vanjie should be pros at that with how you’re playing off this ‘on screen romance’ stuff,” Nina raised her free hand to provide seemingly unnecessary air quotes. Brooke scoffed gently. The romance was real, the follow up was not. It wasn’t, none of the tweets or interactions held any merit. But Brooke almost felt a personal offense at the implication that what they had before was fake, even if she had just misunderstood and Nina didn’t mean it that way. It shouldn’t have bothered her as much as it did. “It’ll fare well for the two of you, and it’s all good fun. What’s the consensus?”

There was a moment of tentative silence, a sudden hush. It was unusual for Vanessa to not be bouncing off the walls, her adrenaline from before nowhere to be found. Brooke looked over at her, making quick eye contact with her through the mirror. Vanessa raised a painted eyebrow at her, as if asking – no, suggesting, that it could be a good idea. It wouldn’t hurt. Right?

“Could be funny,” Brooke answered for the two of them, her smile returning.

Nina nodded, handing her phone to the woman at her side. “Let’s do it!” She straightened her denim jacket, water still in her hand, posing as a makeshift cocktail. Brooke stood from her seat, clearing her throat and watching as Vanessa finally turned her back to the mirror and faced the rest of them, a smile now adorned and her reluctance from before vanishing at the sight of a camera. The sight brought a certain weakness to Brooke, if only for a moment, just as it had every time she saw that smile. There was nothing different in how Vanessa made her feel still, she could appreciate things like that about her even if they weren’t an item.

“So, what, just kiss? Like in the Untucked?” Brooke made an effort to look away from Vanessa, but it felt like the reluctance Vanjie held was instead transferred to her. It was the same loss of focus she became familiar with during drag race, where even the just the knowledge of Vanessa being in the same room was enough of a distraction. She never complained, though.

“Yeah. Just like in the Untucked,” Nina kept herself at a distance from the other two queens, her body facing the now three people with phone cameras posed at them, others in the room joining in to capture the moment.

Vanessa again quirked an eyebrow at Brooke, who felt herself get uncharacteristically nervous. Why was she nervous? She hoped no one clocked her uneasy breathing, or heard her heartbeat as loudly as she did. She considered herself a good actress, but it was easier being playful and coy through twitter – how does one kiss their ex on camera, casually enough to make it look natural and real, but not too comfortable as to earn speculation from Vanessa herself, who clearly had no problem playing this up in front of the camera. It was certainly a tricky situation they were in. She wondered for a moment if Vanessa was struggling in the same way.

Brooke made a mental note to bring it up someday.

She wondered how long she stood spacing out, due to Vanessa no longer regarding her and instead living her directing fantasy. “You gotta start, like they did – like they did when we did this, you gotta say action,” she was instructing those who were filming, gesturing wildly.

“Ready? Yeah,” the woman nodded along, halfheartedly taking in Vanjie’s words, already having pressed the record button. “Okay ready?”

“Do it now,” Vanessa told her, and Brooke registered the deep breath that Vanessa took moments before they were to kiss.

“Action. Action.”

It was a blur after that – perhaps not in the moment, as she was conscious enough to chime in with a comically over-exaggerated “Did ya’ll see that?” after Nina and Vanessa both quoted it themselves. But when Brooke thought back to the video that ended up attracting attention on Nina’s Instagram later that night, she hardly could recall the details. It was foggy, most of it. Excluding the kiss.

Was she right in calling it a kiss? It was hardly that. A quick peck, reminiscent of the one they were recreating, not even enough for Vanessa’s lipstick to transfer onto Brooke’s unpainted lips. Not even enough to Brooke to over-analyze. Or so she thought.

Nina retrieved her phone as soon as they had finished the reenactment, smiling to herself as she hit play to watch the video. Vanessa quickly joined her to watch it, her smile losing its sincerity as they watched. Brooke remained across the room, attempting to gauge their reactions under the guise of gathering her own bearings, picking her own phone back up from where she had been sitting.

“S’it good? Convincing, too?” Brooke asked after the video had ended, the unasked ‘Too convincing?’ threatening to spill from her lips. She noticed that while Nina appeared overjoyed at the video, laughing to herself and pocketing her phone, Vanessa’s expression offered an air of concern. The look of trouble alone revived Brooke’s anxiety.

“Yeah, no, it’s good. Really good, thanks, guys,” Nina addressed both the ex-couple and those who had recorded the video, each from different angles, though only one would end up on the Ohioan’s Instagram. “I’m going to head out there, good luck up there tonight, girl,” Nina nudged Vanessa, who only gave a halfhearted smile and a quiet ‘Thanks’ in response.

Nina turned to leave, the others all following her, leaving after them a tension that filled the room. The room that only Vanessa and Brooke were left in.

“Hm,” Vanessa returned to her place in front of the mirror, lost in thought and not acknowledging that she wasn’t alone. Brooke sat back down, one hand occupied by her phone and the other fidgeting with the hem of her black blazer. Maybe she was overestimating how long and uncomfortable the silence felt, but Brooke wasn’t so sure it was that crazy of an exaggeration.

“Definitely should help fuel that fire,” Brooke spoke up, choosing to entertain the prospect of discussing the kiss rather than sitting in that loud silence. Vanessa didn’t stop touching up her makeup in the mirror to look at Brooke, just nodded. “Maybe we could post a picture together at some point soon. Is that too much?” Brooke laughed, not sure if her laugh was directed at her own question or Vanjie’s lack of an answer.

After another extended silence, Vanessa suddenly turned around to grab her own phone off the small table in the center of the room. “Let’s do it.”

Brooke was taken aback, needing a second to readjust to Vanessa’s usual volume returning after having been quiet in thought for so long. She watched as Vanessa snapped her fingers expectedly, waiting for Brooke to stand up, plausibly for a selfie.

“What, right now? We can’t post it right now, girl.”

“And why not?” Vanessa countered, her free hand going to her hip. “If we gonna do this, we have to keep feeding the children. We can’t let them go hungry,” she attempted to lighten up the tension in the room that had been there ever since Nina and the others left.

Brooke chuckled deeply, shaking her head. “Not after that video. Give it a week, maybe.” She hoped Vanessa would understand where she was coming from and drop it. She had thought they shared that logic in this situation, in the faux flirting and how it worked PR wise. It was bad to over-saturate this.

“Hmm,” Vanessa repeated from before, evidently unconvinced. She dropped her phone back, heading towards the door. Brooke felt relief ease her anxiety, focusing back on her own phone. 

She didn’t even notice that Vanessa had paused in the doorway, looking over her shoulder back at the man out of drag.

“That’s mighty shady of you, Miss Brooke,” the graveness in her voice forced Brooke to look up, making sincere eye contact for the first time that night. “Reeaaaaalll shady.” Vanessa’s tone held a certain hesitance, a caution. She was unique in that way, in the way that she carried herself in private compared to in the public eye. While most minded themselves and grew wary when being watched, in regards to what they say, how they act – she was the opposite. Upon the chaos of the Werk Room, the need to be recognized on national television, Vanessa tended to surrender her control. She was brash, and loud, and unapologetic; she was likable for this.

That wasn’t the Vanessa that stood now before Brooke in the stuffy room.

Brooke raised a single eyebrow, unsure if her growing smirk was welcome. Unsure of whether this was a real dig, or a classic shady Vanjie joke.

“Shady? And, what? You’re innocent in this?”

No longer looking over her shoulder, Vanessa turned fully to face Brooke, her back to the hall. Brooke noted the way her eyes subtly narrowed under her four pairs of stacked lashes, her head cocking with a void of amusement. She didn’t answer or play off of Brooke as she normally would have if this was a lighthearted exchange, instead opting to stay quiet, as if observing Brooke, sizing her up. Her painted eyebrows furrowed with the narrowing of her eyes, though her concentration felt deeper than her simply fabricating another shady comment to hit back with. If she wanted to, she would have already thrown it – she was quick witted enough to bypass usual brainstorming.

When Vanessa cracked a weak smile (albeit it didn’t reach her eyes), Brooke let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“I never said I was innocent. In any meaning of the word. We both know that,” Vanessa took a step forward, back into the room, her voice knocked down a few volumes, for Brooke to hear only. “Even the fans know that, with some of the things we’ve been tweetin’ and sayin’. Whether they’re real or not,” she added, shrugging.

“They’re not,” Brooke challenged, saying matter-of-factly.

“See, that!” Vanessa laughed, pointing to Brooke. “You betta stop! Stop that, bitch.”

Confused, Brooke glanced Vanessa up and down. “What? Stop what?” She wished she could claim naivety. She knew exactly what Vanessa was saying.

Instead of answering her, Vanessa once again stood before her, looking down at her – not much, as even with Brooke seated and Vanessa in heels, the height difference made it so that they weren’t at an unusually unfair playing field now. She waited for an instant, to see if Brooke would say something. When she didn’t, Vanessa crossed over to sit in the empty chair beside her. Brooke didn’t ask if she sat so close to the edge intentionally, to be as close as possible to the Canadian queen.

That tense psychic feeling was back, but it felt different this time. She just couldn’t point to what changed. Was the whole room engulfed by this feeling, or just the few inches between the two? Regardless, Brooke felt her stomach knot, and had to stop her leg from bouncing in the space between them. If only Vanessa would get to the point. The point Brooke already knew she was making.

“Y’know, Brooke Lynn,” Vanessa drew out her words, in a sort of emphatic yet teasing manner, it being uncommon for her to use the second part of Brooke’s drag name unless addressing her by full name. Her gaze dropped, and Brooke instinctively followed it – they both watched as Vanessa’s right hand moved to draw mindless patterns on Brooke’s pant leg, right above the knee. If it weren’t for how close Vanessa’s voice was when she spoke, Brooke could have easily hyper focused on the way Vanessa’s hand traced gently up and down. “At some point we have to quit pretending like this is only for the fans.”

“We talked about this,” Brooke kept her voice solid, despite the way Vanessa dropped her’s to just barely above a whisper. They both looked back up at the same time, although neither one backed off. Brooke could have sworn they were closer than they had been before Vanjie had taken her seat.

“Really?” Vanessa frowned, puzzled. There was a cloud of doubt in her eyes. “Musta been out of it ‘cause I can’t seem to remember us doing that. I think you’re mistaken, Miss Brooke.”

Brooke swallowed, shaking her head weakly, and tried to look away. She trained her eyes to a bulletin board on the wall. She had more than enough time to push the other queen away, or scoot back, or even get up.

She stayed where she was, could feel Vanessa’s eyes on her.

When she realized Brooke was adamant on not entertaining the conversation, Vanessa continued. “So. Tell me, then… What you’re tryna say is that if I were to kiss you right now, with no one around to see it, you’d pull out a camera to take a picture of it? You’d tweet about it? It wouldn’t feel real to you, at all?” She knew what she was doing, she could tell Brooke was trying her hardest not to look at her.

Until she did, her eyes making contact with Vanessa’s again, mere centimeters from her face. “Is that hypothetical?” Brooke’s voice entered into a whisper. She made the mistake of glancing down towards Vanessa’s coated lips. She wasn’t fast enough in fixing her error, as Vanessa had already noticed and consequently did the same, a smirk playing at her lips.

“It don’t gotta be. That one’s up to you,” Vanessa breathed, yet the way she inched impossibly closer said otherwise.

“I–”

Before Brooke could allow the anticipation to drive her crazy, Vanessa’s lips were on her’s.

It was nothing like the kisses they shared on camera, neither drag race or the peck for Nina’s video. It was only the two of them, no pressure or expectation forcing them to maneuver with any caution. The kiss all too similar to the ones they would share after finally finding privacy in between filming, after not having seen each other for a week due to gigs, after spending the weekend together and waking up clinging to each other in the morning. It was all familiarity and comfort, butterflies and giddiness, as their lips moved in a passionate fervor. They didn’t think about posing, or the door to the room being wide open, or mixing nonchalance with playfulness.

Brooke had just released the tension in her body, the reluctance she feigned, when Vanessa broke the kiss.

“Mm?” Brooke blinked, fog passing slowly.

Vanessa moved away from her with a coquettish wink, flipping her wig dramatically over her shoulder that said wig didn’t even reach. “I got a show to do.”

That little fucker, Brooke huffed a laugh with an incredulous shake to her head.

“Maybe a reenactment later?” Vanessa paused again at the door, “Good luck tweetin’ unsuspiciously about that one and not bein’ urged to give me a private phone call after.” And with that, Vanessa vanished around the corner, Brooke not seeing the bashful smile she wore all the way to the stage. And she didn’t know that Brooke wore one to match.

*****

That night, the first thing Brooke saw upon opening Instagram was that damn video. As well as all the reposts and screenshots she had accordingly been tagged in. She prepared herself before playing it, not having seen it yet.

Stopping herself from smiling was out of the question as she watched the fifteen second clip. She watched it more than once, not breaking the natural loop it made whenever it ended.

And if she texted Nina later to send her the video, simply to rewatch the way Vanessa smiled into their kiss, well, she wouldn’t bring that part up.

*****

@Bhytes1: Because everyone loves a dramatic re-enactment

[burnouts3s3]

A First Time for Everything, a Kannazuki no Miko fanfiction

(Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own Kannazuki no Miko. Kannazuki no Miko is copyrighted to the fine people at Geneon Studios as well as the mangaka Kaishaku. Please support the official release.

A/N: Special thank yous to PrincessSerenity101 and Nobody 08 for beta-reading.)

A First Time for Everything, a Kannazuki no Miko fanfiction

As the sun began to set over a small, private garden in Mahoroba, two figures, dressed in burgundy uniforms, had yet to leave the campus grounds of the prestigious Ototachibana Academy. The taller and much more mature looking, of the two girls as Chikane Himemiya, heiress to the Himemiya dynasty and loved by many and all who barely knew her. Yes, it was more correct to say people were in love with the idea of her or her reputation. After all, who wouldn't want to seek the hand and be related to a girl who not only outclassed her entire student population in sports, academia and looks? However, such things were facades to anyone who 'actually' paid attention to such details and found that underneath was a girl who drove herself, not out of a shameful sense of overcompensation for inferior traits, but rather a girl who strove to live for something.

Fortunately, locked in tight embraced, and lips still pressed together was none other than Himeko Kurusugawa. Once again, from a far-away and perhaps shallow perspective, there was little noticeable about the short, blonde with a red ribbon tied in her hair. However, upon closer inspection, one could see a gentle and soft-spoken spirit that somehow escaped corruption in an increasingly cynical and clawing world. Caught within amethyst eyes was a pure and kind soul that didn't seek the taller girl's love out of some half-perceived gain at status nor some ill-conceived 'schoolgirl crush' that many adults would dismiss. Rather, it was a sincere display of mutual love, a rare sight, to which both girls were more than physically willing to embrace. As their arms gently shifted, a slow breath of air came from their nostrils.

In a cruel twist of fate, they were cast as Kannazuki no Miko in a previous life: priestesses forced to summon the great Ame no Murakumo in order to ensure the safety and continuation of the world. In this endless cycle of rebirth and death, the two priestesses could not help but fall in love with one another. However, it would be at great cost: one priestess's life would have to be sacrificed in order to rebuild the world whole again. In an elaborate scheme, Chikane had tricked Himeko into hating her, seemingly betraying the world, only to have Himeko kill her and force the world to reset. The cost would be great, as the blue-haired priestess would be forced to be erased from existence until the next cycle of reincarnation. Even then, the two would not remember each other until their final moments together and by then, it would be too late.

However, no such misfortune happened. On a rather brightly lit day in Mahoroba, by pure circumstance (or perhaps divine intervention would be the more appropriate phrasing), the two met on an intersection and embraced each other. The memories had flooded back, and the two were reunited and remained inseparable ever since. Now, both attended school at Ototachibana and while the social status of the 'untouchable' Chikane Himemiya, remained, the two secretly met and embraced each other whenever there was a spare moment to be had. And this was one of those few times.

"It's getting late…" The taller, blue-haired girl whispered. While not wanting to be the one to interrupt their secret rendezvous, Chikane did not want to be the one to bear the burden of guilt if Himeko was locked out of her dormitory. After all, Ototachibana was rather strict on its attendance policy.

"Five more minutes…" Himeko sighed, reassuming lip contact and closing her eyes to brush her soft lips against the taller girl's. Both sighed contently as their arms continued exploring and embracing one another. In fact, things were going swimmingly until…

"C-Chikane-chan…." The Kurusugawa girl pleaded. Chikane backed away and looked to find that her right hand had instinctively cupped Himeko's left breast. Contrary to popular belief, the soft flesh was much larger and smoother than either had anticipated. The Himemiya daughter removed it at once.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"

"It's alright… I don't mind as long its Chikane-chan doing it." Once again, the two had resumed their embrace. They began entangling their tongues and their fingers together. Chikane, being the taller of the two, supported Himeko arms as she bent down slightly to accompany the smaller girl's height. It wasn't long before Chikane noticed one of Himeko's arms was missing from Chikane's shoulder. When curiosity drove her to find out the cause of this, she was met with a sudden gasp coming from her own mouth.

Himeko's right hand had unknowingly squeezed Chikane's left buttock.

"H-Himeko…" The taller girl gasped. Even knowing that the two of them were lovers, it was still a bit odd for someone who had held such a dignified and pronounced look about her to be caught off-guard.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Chikane-chan!" Himeko blushed furiously, ripping her hand away.

"Well, I did start it in the first place…" Chikane said, coming her long azure locks behind her ear.

"Don't say it like that; it sounds so dirty." Himeko giggled, finally separating the two of them and sighing.

"Dirty…" Chikane thought to herself. In a way, it 'was' dirty and Himeko didn't deny that Chikane was the one who started it.

"I better get going. I'll call you tonight, alright?" Himeko said, walking toward the dormitory. The two had come across an intersection and waited for the signal to allow pedestrians to cross. The two exchanged a subtle yet heart-felt glance at one another before the said signal came. Himeko walked across slowly, but turned around. Chikane chuckled for a brief moment as Himeko walked backwards blowing a kiss at her. However, a girlish giggle turned into a sour frown when she heard a speeding car racing toward them. The taller girl gasped and cried out, her body far too slow to react.

"Himeko!" She screamed out loud, only to see a black streak cloud her vision. She silently cursed the dust blocking her eyes as she prayed and pleaded that the pure angel would still be there. Were the Gods so cruel as to reunite them again only to force them apart? Chikane quickly opened her eyes, pain be damned, only to see Himeko holding both of her ears and standing in the middle of the street with her eyes shut. Chikane quickly ran across, grabbed Himeko by the arm and ran her to the other side, ensuring the both of them were safe.

"I-I'm alright, Chikane-chan." Himeko panted, her eyes still filled with water from the near-death experience.

"That was completely reckless of them!" The azure haired girl said. "If they had hurt you, I'll-"

"It's fine," Himeko said, patting herself down. "What's important that I'm still here with you."

Chikane took in a deep breath and sighed. Of the many things the Himemiya daughter found most loving about her partner was how forgiving she was. Rather than hold a grudge (to which Chikane was more than willing to do) about the reckless driver that nearly killed Himeko, the small blonde instead focused on being safe and secure with the taller girl and forgive and forget as it were. With her lover's safety reassured, she helped the girl up to her feet and hugged her tightly before Chikane heard a familiar buzzing of her cellphone and let go of Himeko.

Himeko gave Chikane a quick peck on the cheek before leaving back to her dormitory.

Neither Himeko nor Chikane were really comfortable the next day, meeting at a local café. Sitting outside, the two girls suddenly had trouble talking with one another. Even though both dressed elegantly, Himeko in a turquoise one piece with her wide, white hat and Chikane in her casual pink cotton shirt with tight blue jeans, the atmosphere couldn't have been more uncomfortable. The thought of being torn apart again had scared the two of them out of their wits. While nothing was spoken, the physical signs were there: Himeko's tea-cup clanging with its saucer, Chikane's constant need to clear her throat though she had a perfectly good cough drop in her purse, the awkward glances to the side rather than to each other. It had been a good minute of silence before either two of them spoke up and said anything close to remarking upon the incident.

"Chikane-chan?" Himeko spoke up. The Azure-haired princess turned to her angel.

"Yes, Himeko?"

"I was really scared yesterday." That was the understatement of the century; Chikane thought to herself but would never admit out loud.

"So was I." She said, reaching out and holding the delicate hand of her partner. A sigh of relief came from the taller girl, seeing how she wasn't alone from her concerns.

"And I was thinking what if that was it? What if I was gone and I couldn't see you anymore? That would-that would-"

"Himeko…" Chikane said in a deep husky voice, beginning to lace her fingers with the little blonde's.

"And it's not just that. What if I don't resurrect again? Or we somehow forget each other and have to fight Orochi again? Or something worse…"

"Don't say things like that!" The Himemiya princess cried out, careful not to raise her voice.

"But, it could be true, Chikane-chan. That's why I… I… want us to show each other how much we love each other."

The taller of the two girls raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"But, isn't that what we're already doing?"

"Actually, I meant something more along the lines of me sleeping over." Himeko continued, seeing as her partner did not fully grasp the full intent behind the meaning.

"But… you've done that already." Chikane said slowly, unsure of the context.

"In the same bed." The blonde responded.

"But, we've already done that."

"And not do very much sleeping…" Himeko trailed off, a deep blush now flooding her cheeks as she awkwardly looked off in the distance.

"Oh…" Chikane said, finally understanding the intent behind words. "You mean…"

Himeko nodded shyly, and couldn't help but give a nervous smile underneath. Of course, the thought had occurred to Chikane; they did live in the 21st century where two girls could explore more intimate feelings. It was also true that the two hadn't been exactly perfect Catholic school girls when it came to physical affection (unless of course, they were referring to a more lewd and televised version of the Catholic school girl). However, the very thought of going further was a bit unnerving. For one thing, neither girl was experienced at that sort of thing.

The 'other' elephant in the room was the fact that Chikane, during her betrayal, had forced herself on Himeko. Of course, Himeko had assured Chikane multiple times that the azure-haired princess did it out of necessity. However, the panging guilt, as well as the memory of Himeko's pained face was forever etched into Chikane's memory. The taller girl sighed and began circling her finger around her tea-cup, unsure how to respond. Eventually, she gave a heavy sigh when the little blonde began to look questioningly at her.

"Himeko, I don't know…" She finally spoke. "I was planning on waiting until 'after' we were married after all."

"That's kind of you to consider, Chikane-chan." Himeko giggled, remembering the promise the two of them had to one another.

"But, after yesterday…"

"Well, I doubt your parents will allow us to get married when we're still in high school." Himeko said, taking another sip of her tea.

"Believe me, I've tried…" Chikane giggled, only to have the smile quickly fade away.

"Chikane-chan… you must think me really dirty for bringing this up…"

"No!" Chikane cried out, "You're not dirty at all."

"I don't want to pressure you or rush you into something you're not ready for. But, when I almost died yesterday, I felt like I would've regretted not showing everything to you. That would've been awful. If something were to happen to me, or to you, I want us to at least know what we meant to each other, without the Orochi or the end of the world or any of that."

The Himemiya princess sighed and thought to herself, listening to Himeko's concern. It was true that neither of them knew the exact circumstances of why both were resurrected in the same cycle or if they would reincarnate together only to be forced into the cruel fate of the doomed lovers. Chikane could only remember the pain in her heart at the very idea of Himeko being run over by a random car and losing her forever. The stigma of her past actions still haunted her but the ever looming threat of short-lived life was present still. After a long minute of silence, Chikane sighed and smiled.

"If this is what you want Himeko, then I want it too." The husky voice said. Himeko lit up and grasped Chikane's hand firmly.

"Oh, thank you, Chikane-chan! I want everything to go just perfect. But… I'm not sure how girls… I mean with a boy, it makes sense but how do we-"

Chikane, thinking back on how she had forced herself on the shorter girl, began to flinch. The thought of having intercourse with Himeko made her heart race with a variety of emotions: lust of having the girl to herself, anxiety of not being able to perform well, and of course, fear on harming Himeko again. Opening her eyes, she spoke up.

"I-I suppose we'll have to… research it. If tonight's no good for you, then we can always try tomorrow night."

"I'd like that." Himeko smiled. "It'll have to be your place, unless you want Makoto there when we-"

"I'd rather not." Chikane, for the first time that afternoon smiling genuinely.

The two held each other's hands while a deep blush covered both of their cheeks. For the moment, nothing short of Yamata no Orochi itself could've ruined this perfect moment. The two breathed heavily only to feel a set of eyes upon them. Himeko turned around, but her reaction was too late. Chikane leapt up, and put her body in front of her only to be met with a horrific noise.

"Did someone ask for sex advice?" Makoto Saotome said, coming from the bushes with a singular leaf still stuck in her hair.

"Mako-chan?" Himeko exclaimed, expressing the surprise of both her and the entire outdoor dining establishment.

"How long were you hiding there?"

"Silly Himeko!" Makoto Saotome snickered. "When you're lurking, time doesn't matter. But, let's get to the real reason you're here: you two are about to do it!"

Both Himeko and Chikane were caught rather off-guard on how 'open' Makoto was when she was talking about personal affairs.

"Mako-chan…" Himeko blushed furiously to the point of being beet-red. "I don't think…"

"Exactly! You don't think at all while Dr. Makoto, sex-expert, teaches you all the in and outs of love!" Immediately, she ran behind Himeko and began pushing her off to a distance.

"You get the room ready, Miya-sama! By the time I'm done with Himeko, you'll be begging for seconds!"

"Mako-chan, where are you taking me!" Himeko said, struggling to get behind Makoto but to no avail.

"Where everyone goes for information. To the internet!"

"I'll be ready by tomorrow, Chikane-chan!" Himeko reassured while Makoto continued to push her off.

"Okay…" Chikane said, seeing her little angel struggle against her 'friend'.

"I'm not sure I'll be…" She said to herself, before sitting down and finishing the rest of her tea.

Much to Himeko's protest (or, rather 'lack of' protest), she was taken back to Ototachibana dormitory, strapped to an office chair thanks to some rather sticky tape and sat, against her will, in front of the computer while her room-mate paced around smugly.

"Some people call me a pervert, I consider myself a teacher. Lesson number one: if it exists, there exists a porn version of it." Makoto said proudly. She quickly moved her mouse around to awake her computer. What Himeko saw next complete surprised her. On the screen was a rather broody looking tan elf with brightly glowing tattoos. On the screen, he seemed to be behind and well, kissing, his supposed partner, a blonde, equally depressed looking male dressed in a green outfit with feathers on his shoulders. Himeko blinked and turned to her supposed captor.

"'Fenders?' Is that some sort of obscure yaoi?"

"Disregard that!" Makoto exclaimed quickly, closing the current window and quickly typing in the next search engine she found.

"Let's see: Japanese image board, porn site, Japanese image board, pony thread, pony thread, pony thread, oh, here we go! 'How lesbians have sex'."

"Mako-chan! That's too blunt!" Himeko protested, attempting to undo the bands that Makoto wrapped around her, but with no such luck.

"You're right; we're going to have to research some fanfiction."

"It's not about that!" Himeko screamed, causing her roommate to turn around.

"Then what is it about? If you can take care of the sex portion, why haven't you done it already?"

The blonde blushed and sighed.

"While it's true I don't know much about sex, I can do research on my own to find out. The real reason I'm worried is because…I want to show her… I want to show her that I'm worthy of her."

For a moment, nothing was said between the two dormmates.

"But…" Makoto said, turning the office chair around and staring at Himeko.

"I thought you said you two were destined to be together."

"We are…" Himeko said, sighing.

"But, that might not be a good thing. She might finally look at me, see that I'm nothing special and go 'oh'. I don't want her to feel as if she's stuck with me or destined to be with me. I 'want' her to be with me. I to make her feel good, that I'm good enough for her."

For a moment, Makoto Saotome sat there silently, unsure what to say. She had often looked after Himeko as a big sister, but now she was engaging in intercourse. Even with the whole tale Himeko had relied about 'priestesses' and 'reincarnation', Makoto still felt happy that Himeko not only found someone special, but that special someone was none other than Chikane Himemiya. However, what Saotome failed to realize what Himeko felt throughout the process. She did not feel the stigma of being in love with a girl, but rather the insecurity of being in love with 'the' girl everyone else wanted.

"Well, that's why I'm here." Makoto said. "If this is going to be your first time, let's make it a time to remember, right?"

"But, it shouldn't just be about sex. How can I prove to myself that I'm good enough for her if we're not…" Himeko had a blush come over her again.

Mako stood up and gave a light tap on Himeko's forehead.

"That's what everyday else is for, silly. You being you."

Suddenly, the genuine smile came over Himeko as she realized what Makoto meant.

"Thank you, Mako-chan." Himeko smiled, finally regaining her confidence.

"Alright. Now let's look at some yuri boards!"

"Umm…" Himeko sweated. Suddenly, she 'wasn't' feeling too confident.

"Stop, Chikane-chan. Stop! You're hurting me!" Himeko screamed. However, the Lunar Priestess would not relent. She would continually shower Himeko with kisses and grope her. She would make Himeko hate her. She would force Himeko to kill her. Chikane buried her disgust, the pain of harming Himeko deep inside her.

She saw every ounce of pain come from Himeko. The tears, the winces, the please and begging. It clawed at her heart like a madness, but still, it was nothing compared to what she did before. She felt the warm stickiness come from the angel's womanhood a cold comfort compared to the Solar Priestess' blood painted on her hand. Yes, that was the true sin that came from her. Killing someone she loved literally drove her to madness. Reincarnation was a moot point; if one had to forget they had loved someone a lifetime before only to kill them again, that would cause even the most sensible person to go mad.

"I love you, Himeko…" She said coldly, removing her fingers inside the innocent girl and slowly licking the cum off them.

Chikane Himemiya woke up in a cold sweat. She quickly ran outside one of the many rooms of the Himemiya mansion and went into a large bath sink before splashing cold water over her face. She looked in the mirror and glared at the reflection, holding herself back to keep from smashing it to pieces. The Himemiya princess turned and then slid to the ground, curling up and panting. Himeko had long forgiven her for the sins she had committed in the past life, but Chikane herself continued feeling the guilt of what she had done. Perhaps it was a double-edged sword: to remember the beauty of love and the pain of being torn apart. She hated that feeling the most, for without it, she would've felt nothing.

"Oh, Himeko…" Chikane said to herself before closing her eyes and sighing. "How could you love someone like me? Someone who's hurt you so much? What if I can't control myself and I hurt you again?"

"Oujo-sama?" A familiar voice came from outside the door. "Are you alright?"

Chikane recognized Otoha outside the door and hesitated. What was she to say: that she was having nightmares about killing her lover in the past life? That said lover not only forgave her but wanted to do something that Chikane took too far in a past life? How was she to convey how she felt, even to someone trusted as Otoha? The Himemiya daughter became silent in thought, and then finally spoke up and did what she did best: lie.

"I'm fine, Otoha. There's nothing to be worried about."

Chikane, once again, buried her face in-between her knees. "That's the only thing I can do right; deceive others." She thought to herself sadly. She was a liar, a rapist, and worse, a murderer. She breathed through her nose reflecting upon her past mistakes and sins as if they had just occurred. Himeko might've forgiven her, but Chikane would not forgive herself, could not forgive herself. For the sake of her lover, she would rather her own heart be gutted out and torn apart than do anything to hurt Himeko again.

"It was a mistake to agree to this in the first place!" She thought in her horror. "I won't do anything to hurt you again, Himeko…."

When the night in question came, everything was prepared. Dinner was cooked by Otoha, especially to Chikane's orders (Otoha had to refrain from putting Shiitake in 'anything'), the maids were obedient and stood by, watching the two lovers connect and were properly dismissed when evening feel upon the Himemiya mansion. The two talked and giggled for a while, Himeko telling Chikane all of Makoto's teachings and musings about what she had seen. (She especially enjoyed telling Chikane how embarrassed Makoto was when she found all of her Fix-it Felix Jr./Sgt. Calhoun fanart).

Finally, the time came when the full moon was lit at its brightest and Himeko led Chikane up the stairs. Unknownst to either of them, both girl's heartbeats were beating as with such intensity that they felt it in their palms. The two went up the stairs, both less than ready to go forward with it. Chikane lit a scented candle and sat on the bed, wearing only a silken white nightgown revealing her very developed busom. She waited for Himeko, coming out with little more than her pink panties and bra. Chikane gave a deep blush, forgetting how developed Himeko's own breasts were, despite being much smaller than her own. There was nary an once of imperfect flesh on Himeko as she came closer to the bed. The blonde sat with her, giving a deep blush as Himeko initiated the first kiss.

Chikane sighed, kissing back. The heat of the kiss still lingered as Chikane began wrapping her arms around Himeko. The soft yet muscular arms of the taller girl caused Himeko to giggle as she laced her fingers through the blue-haired girl's straight, beautiful hair. She didn't come across a single tangled strand or split hair. Their tongues danced and exchanged space through each other's mouths as their hot breathing became more intense, each warm exhale passed each other's faces. There, Chikane's arms found their way to Himeko's thin bra and instinctively began pulling apart the damning Velcro strap. Himeko followed suit buy sucking on Chikane's shoulder and letting the thin shoulder strap fall to the side and effectively freeing one arm from the nightgown.

The intensity grew. Their grips began to tighten on one another and the hugs wrapping around one another began to grow stronger. Contrary to appearance, it was Himeko who was the bolder of the two as she tackled, gently of course, Chikane and pinned her on her back. Blood rushing to all corners and made apparent by her cheeks, she pulled Chikane's nightgown off her body and revealed the perfection the Himemiya daughter was renowned for. The slightly muscular body with a defined yet flat stomach stood before Himeko before she gave a beet-red blush and lowered her head to give a quick kiss to Chikane. It was at this point that the taller girl's lips began to pull away and dodge Himeko's.

"Wait… Himeko." Chikane finally said, before rising to be seated on the bed.

"I'm sorry; I should've told you this morning." Chikane mentally scolded herself; she had ample opportunity to voice her hesitations but the very idea of being initimate with Himeko shocked her witless. "I guess I'm not as perfect as people say I am, after all." she thought alone.

"About what?" Himeko asked, pulling the white sheet to cover her exposed breasts.

"I think… I think it's best if we… hold off a little longer."

"Did something happen?" Himeko asked.

The azure-haired girl closed her eyes and sighed.

"Himeko… I've hurt you so badly. I still remember that time I made you cry. If I could take those tears back, I would."

The blonde blinked at this, "But, I've already forgiven you. And besides, you had no choice, remember?"

"It still bothers me. Himeko, you don't know what it's like seeing someone like you in pain. And when you realize you're responsible for that pain…"

Himeko cupped her partner's face, "I'm just as guilty as you are. For so long, I failed to see what was in front of me and I hurt you in my own way. Yet, you still forgave me, right?"

Chikane was not convinced; her silence made that apparent. The blonde hesitated for a moment and then spoke again.

"Chikane-chan, do you trust me?" Himeko said, gently circling her finger around Chikane's face.

"Yes, of course!" The taller girl said.

"Then trust in me who trusts you." Himeko said. Suddenly, a deep blush came over her face.

"Oh no, that made no sense, didn't it? I'm sorry!"

Chikane's eyes widened. An epiphany dawned over her. Even though Himeko doubted the words that just came out of her mouth, there was wisdom to be found in them. Chikane, in her moment of hesitation, failed to realize that Himeko was in fact the same age as her and shared the same experiences as Chikane did. Thus, it was no longer a secret how Chikane felt and Himeko was still aware of this. Himeko, if anything, should've avoided Chikane like the plague, but instead forgave her and chose to be with her. In fumbling her words, Himeko released Chikane from a mental prison to which the Himemiya daughter forced herself into.

"No. No, it makes perfect sense. I think…" Chikane gave a loud sigh. "I think I'm ready."

Himeko pecked Chikane's right cheek. "We'll take it slow."

Chikane nodded, only to find the blonde passionately pressing her lips against her own. Their tongues resumed their entanglement as their arms wrapped around one another's. Himeko broke contact to place her thin, perfect lips upon Chikane's neck. She began brushing against the neck and sucking slowly as if she, herself, were a stalker. Their breaths became heated as Himeko gave a small, but pleasant cry when Chikane began tugging at Himeko's panties. Obliging, Himeko assisted the pair of hands by sliding the panties off her and leaving nothing exposed.

Again, Himeko was the more eager of the two. She once again pinned Chikane on the back of the bed and initiated the kisses. She felt her tiny hands kneed and squeeze Chikane's breasts, admiring how soft and perky they were. Her index finger circled and pressed the hardened nipples of Chikane's, eliciting a subtle pleasured moan. Himeko giggled as she bent down and sucked lovingly upon Chikane's left breast while her left hand continued to massage the right one (due to the ample size, she had to extend her palm wide open). Finally, the panting and moaning from her lover drove Himeko mad with lust. Unable to contain what little restraint she had, she descended her face to Chikane's nether regions. She saw the vaginal lips, so pink and dripping with cum. Teasingly, she blew a couple of heated breaths into it, causing Chikane to blush furiously. Then, to add to the teasing, Himeko took her index finger and began running around the lips, causing stifled moans from the taller girl.

Himeko giggled and bit her lip. She finally inserted her index and middle finger together and pressed hard against Chikane's clitoris. "Ahhhhhh….." Chikane moaned as Himeko ran the fingers back and forth. The ebb and flow of the digits quickly sped up, causing each slide of the finger to cause a hot pant from Chikane. Finally, the pace of the digits running within Chikane caused her to curl her toes while she came all on Himeko's delicate fingers. Playfully, the girl withdrew her fingers from Chikane and licked them, wincing only because of the strong taste.

At first, Chikane was very cautious. Rather than taking Himeko and tossing her on her back (which she could've easily done given her athleticism), she instead took Himeko by the wrist, gently tugged on it and much like a gentle breeze, subtly caused Himeko to fall onto her back. Their styles could not have been more different: While the blonde's was quick, heated, and sped up if not a bit clumsy, Chikane's was soft, easy, and noticeably subtle, like taking in a full scent of roses only to notice its strong fragrance afterwards. Chikane's mouth squeezed and sucked on Himeko's breast and only parted so that Chikane could bury her chest and rub against both of them. Himeko gave a playful giggle and had to bit her lip when Chikane's kisses trailed a circle around Himeko's perfect navel. Each kiss a sensual gift as she eventually found herself kissing the inside of Himeko's thighs.

When the kisses and rubs had stopped, Chikane worried that her hesitance would've warded off her lover. Then, biting her lip, she seized the moment as it were and with the tip of her tongue, licked the outer vaginal lip. Himeko gave a passionate moan, which in turn caused Chikane to become bolder. More and more, the licks became longer and more intense. When, she had finally stopped playing around, Chikane found her mouth literally sucking vaginal juices from Himeko. Her tongue started to lick faster and faster, causing each pant from Himeko to become rapid and grow in pace. Finally, a passionate and pleasured moan from Himeko caused her to release all against Chikane's mouth. Chikane found the taste exquisite, with a strong aftertaste that left her wanting more.

"Himeko… was that… alright?" She said, hesitantly.

"As gentle as a summer breeze and as passionate as the ocean." Himeko said, cupping Chikane's face.

"In fact… I think your effort deserves something extra."

"You're not tired?" Chikane giggled.

"I want to try something that Makoto showed me. I guess she was right after all!" Himeko said. In an odd fashion, the blonde leaned backwards and put her thighs between Chikane's. At first, Chikane didn't understand what was meant to happen, but when Himeko whispered instructions to her, she quickly caught the gist. Rather than having either of them take turns to pleasure one another, both of their vaginal lips would rub against one another until the other would release. The rubbing was slow, uncomfortable even as both girls attempted to match the rhythm of one another. Then, when their various movements harmonized, the two found themselves rubbing at perfect pacing. Himeko's biting of her lip was just as humbling as Chikane's open-faced silent moaning. Eventually, their rubbing became more and more elated until, at the same time, they both came against one another. Both panted, exhausted from the exercise the two of them had experienced together until they laced their fingers together.

"I love you, Chikane-chan."

"I love you, Himeko."

The two shared a gentle kiss with one another, praying for a lifetime of continued bliss.

(A/N: Mako's a Redditor. Lel.)

[idhanbin-blog]

fade into view

to @idsooyeon​, for starting anew.

what is happening is: hanbin has a date with im sooyeon.

the half second of silence slipping by isn’t exactly awkward, though there’s still a bashfulness that comes with this sort of situation. that shared moment in which he becomes too aware of his hands, the artificiality of the encounter suddenly tight around his neck, thick, obvious. but he smiles with a cock of head, and it comes undone. he sounds casual when he asks, “waiting for someone?” for ice breaking.

before that:

their gazes meet before he reaches her. it’s inconspicuous enough to cue a second of hesitation from him, as though testing waters when taking a step closer, anticipating whatever is to happen. the realization dawning upon her face is unmistakable, it mirrors his own. a reminder that this is happening. his pace slackens when he’s within earshot, because his mind, against all better judgement, spins.

and before that:

his eyes sweep over the bar lounge, full of intent, fixing his jacket around his torso like an armor. it’s not proper protocol to face dates with the determination of a soldier on battleground, but it’s never about what the night promises. hanbin doesn’t like surprises. few people would, in his position -- incidentally, as a celebrity navigating a cutthroat industry, but fundamentally, as the son of his parents, having only ever seen them concealing daggers behind their back at all times, always vigilant.

greetings roll out of his lips to the waiting staff welcoming him while he seeks out the hint of red he was told to keep an eye out for, allowing his green shirt to show beneath the denim jacket. it’s all very old-fashioned. he doesn’t think he knows anyone that had been in a blind date without as much as a phone number for safe keeping, and it’s definitely his first time. so far, his experience is that it’s easier to assume he’ll be stood up with empty hands and only his lip to chew on. he almost doesn’t believe he’ll ever happen upon the girl in red from the last minute text messages. he certainly doesn’t believe it when she is there.

but it begins at:

the makeup stylist he had worked with on his last drama is a frequent contact to pop up among his texts. late shooting hours put him back and back again on her chair, more than anyone in the dressing room could tolerate. it was too much trouble for the staff not to face it with good humor -- what else can you do, when it’s your next job on the line. they become good friends with adversity, and that comes with its perks. sometimes it’s backstage entrances to fashion events full of people that matter in the right places. now, it’s the promise of the huge catch she’s putting in his basket. for free, until the check comes.

sent: how big of a catch are we talking about? incoming: enough that i’ll have you killed if you embarrass me. sent: noona, have i ever been bad. incoming: we’ll see. be nice, she doesn’t need bullshit.

there’s no shortage of hints he’ll be the one dating up, which is, well, annoying, in all honesty. typical blow that his ego keeps getting dealt. that’s all this ever becomes, reminders he’s small fish yet to play with big sharks. but this could still be the beginning. god. fuck him, so much for trying not to exhaust himself thinking to turn this, even this, into work.

highlight: the irony of a blind date with a former university colleague, in context.

[elliot-olivia]

Can't quite remember what I said but first I know I was thanking you for answering the questions so thoroughly and that I also enjoy Elliot. Partially b/c as u say, the flaws, but also b/c he does try to fight some of his less enlightened thinking. He is honest in his responses which is refreshing. His views might not be pleasant but characters aren't stabbed in the back by him. And, as you say, he does evolve as the show continues

was in the writer’s room to give him an emotionally and physically abusive father and a bipolar, unmedicated mother but that literally gave him no healthy relationships to model his behavior as a young child. In regards to E/O, my question wasn’t so much why isn’t Olivia in an f/f relationship, but more how you see the relationship which you answered nicely. I can’t ever actually see them being sexual unless being totally off the job b/c I think they’d be totally afraid of screwing up the best relationship they had and I’m saying this even though I like Kathy. E/O trust one another implicitly and even though they hurt one another, the trust was deep enough to survive, excepting of course, how Elliot left which I agree was a poor choice on the part of the writers. They could have mentions once in awhile about hearing from Elliot, texts, phone calls that wouldn’t take time away from the storyline. Instead, the inexplicable silence which is completely OOC in regards to Olivia.

[first post if anyone wants context]

This whole ask/reply is a little all over the place but hopefully it makes sense! I think my inbox has been eating asks, so thank you for resending the start.

But yeah, your points are other reasons I love Elliot’s character. He tries, maybe not always and maybe not perfectly, but he does and I think that’s important. It’s one of those little traits that makes me soft for him.

no healthy relationships to model his behavior as a young child

This is actually a really interesting point that I haven’t thought about much. I don’t have a whole lot to say about it now but give me a day or two and I’m sure I could write another essay.

I can’t ever actually see them being sexual unless totally off the job…

Okay, yes! When it comes to writing fic, I like playing with the idea of E/O in a romantic or sexual relationship while partners because it’s fun and there’s so much canon content to work with, but if I had to pick like, a preference for them getting together, it’d actually be after Elliot’s retirement. 

I think him leaving opens a door for their relationship to develop past a partnership, and I think, if they’d kept in contact, that development would come naturally. Slowly, probably, but that’s expected. I think they’d struggle at adjusting to a new normal—they’d need to figure out how to navigate their friendship outside of a partners-context, but once they did, it’d be like. The perfect opportunity to turn into something more. 

(I also don’t think Elliot’s marriage would survive his retirement. This isn’t even like, a shippy thing. I really like Kathy but their relationship never came across as particularly stable—even before the first near-divorce—and I think without the job to blame a lot of their issues on, they’d realise that it was never just that). ((I’m so close to going off on a tangent about my headcanons for Elliot post-s12 but I literally Won’t Shut Up, so I’ll hush now).

afraid of screwing up the best relationship they had

Yesssssss. This is actually something that draws me to them. 

I think the fear of ruining their friendship/partnership would stop them from acting on their desire, but that doesn’t eliminate the desire, and two people being in love without being able to do a damn thing about it?? It’s one of my favourite fiction tropes for romantic relationships. And in the context of E/O it hits almost all of my buttons.

…excepting of course, how Elliot left, which I agree was a poor choice on the part of the writers. They could have mentions once in awhile…

Anon, I swear you’re inside my head. 

I don’t know if this is unpopular or not, but I actually like that Elliot left. Not the show, but the unit. It makes sense to me that he’d retire after the incident with Jenna—I really cannot see him handling the guilt well. He’d internalise it, he’d beat himself up over it, and you know he wouldn’t talk about it. Wouldn’t seek help for it. I can even believe that he’d isolate himself after it; that he’d separate himself from the job (read: Olivia) until he could wrap his head around the whole thing. 

What I can’t believe is that he’d just disappear into thin air without a goodbye. Or even that Olivia would let him. A casual line every now and then to suggest that Liv still talks to him would be everything, but honestly? I wouldn’t be half as annoyed if they’d just kept the bloody Double Strands deleted scene. It’s the closest thing to closure we have and I hate that they didn’t add it to the episode.

[zydrateacademy]

Roleplaying 101

Over the years I’ve spread this post around. Takes about 10-11 forum posts to get it all down and it’ll be one of the few posts I give a “Read more” break on. It has gotten a bit taxing to transfer it between communities, so I’m going to bring it here at long last to give a proper, singular link for people who wish to learn.

Currently, this post is in the form of Conan Exiles. I usually give my own little edits and “notes” depending on the game of the community I’m posting it in. So if you see this floating around, it won’t be in the same form most of the time.

Now, let’s get to it. (Very, very long post)

I will give credit where this is due; All this information has been borrowed from my old RP server on World of Warcraft. Most of it will be copy/pasted... However I may give a few edits to try and make it the most relevant to this particular game. If you find any references to WoW (Or even SWG, where I had posted this before), I apologize. Still, when it comes to MMO/RP terms, many of them can be interchangeable.

RP 101: Welcome to a RolePlay

Is it "role players" or "roleplayers?"

This is a question I've thrown in myself (IE: Not from the original source).

The answer is; Both! I can't debate on which one is more grammatically correct (That's for people smarter than I) but I can tell you that in our community, referring to "role play" or "roleplay" is acceptable.

“WTF is up with the (( )) ?”

Bracketing is a form of indicating one is speaking out of character. It can look many ways. Double parentheses (( )), singles ( ), brackets [ ] or any number of other bracketing form. The most common is the double parentheses.

By indicating that one is speaking out of character, they are saying “You are speaking to the player right now, not the character.” It’s good to know the difference (in case the character is particularly abrasive).

Sometimes a group will indicate that Group chat is automatically OOC while /say is automatically IC. In such a case, when speaking in group, (( )) is not necessary. There is no standard as to what channels are IC and which are OOC. It is entirely subjective depending on who you’re with…. With one exception.

"/say Chuck Norris ROXXORS!"

…. Please don’t. When you consciously engage in RP, normal local chat should be assumed to be IC. If you speak OOC in Local, please bracket. No, not everyone does it. No, not everyone is going to be bothered by it if you talk about Chuck Norris, your latest Facebook picture or how much cheese it takes to make a really good Welsh rarebit… but why start off in bad habits? If you want to play on a role play server then start off in a good way and keep good habits all the way through.

"Dude! Why are you wearing that armor?!"

Some MMO's have a cosmetic function, though that's not applicable here. However here at Exiles, you might find that some people wear some of the barest of clothing. What this is called is an "RP outfit", something we wear that makes a bit more sense in the context of our interactions.

Thankfully in Exiles, you can wear a variety of things while still being able to contribute in RP-PvE.

"How do I find the role players?"

This is always the toughest part. It’s easier if you know someone on the server and they can drag you around and introduce you or show you where the events are. Otherwise you have to rely on your own detective ability.

Step one: Read the forum of the realm you have chosen (though hopefully you read them before you joined). Before you jump on there going “HEY! WHERE’S THE RP??” make sure they are not a hive of scum and villainy. Be sure they aren’t a putrid den of RP hatin’.

Step two: Talk to other people. Whether you meet them in a group, on the street, see them fishing in blue overalls, talk to them. Ask questions. Make it a point to reach out to others. Let them know you are new to the server and trying to make contact.

Summary

Being a roleplayer can be a fun and rewarding experience. You can meet some incredibly imaginative, creative, and fun players. There also tends to be a higher maturity ratio among role players. The most important thing to keep in mind though is you are coming to us. Don’t come to us with a LAWLRPSUX attitude because you are a guest. The rules of the house were set long before you came along. If you respect those that choose RP because they are roleplayers, you will have a much more pleasant experience. If you give it a chance, it is very likely you will find that RP brings an extra element of "adventure" to your game. One much more unpredictable and fun than anything that could be programmed in.

RP 101: Role Play Etiquette Is there such a thing as Role Play Etiquette? Certainly there is! It may not be so obviously called that but you can usually tell when someone is breaking it. How can you tell? By listening carefully to what others say. I’m going to try touching on the subject of RP Etiquette. Mind you there are hundreds and hundreds of RP pet peeves that individual RPers might have that I certainly can’t cover, but I will try to cover some of the most common ones. I will also discuss how to know if you’re breaking RP etiquette and possible alternatives or solutions to such behavior. Making role play fun for everyone is the goal. So let’s work towards that goal together. Interrupting Active RP Like in any real-life conversation, it is considered rude to interrupt a RP conversation that is going on. Though often role players are more open to others joining in, it is usually wise to try to determine if others are welcome before jumping in. The simplest and usually fastest way to do this is to send an OOC whisper. Something along the lines of “(( I see you are engaged in role play conversation. Is this a private conversation or may others join in? ))” Quite often you’ll find that role players are seeking others to join them. But be prepared for the times when it is a private conversation not open to others. There is also the technique of simply listening in to see what is going on with the conversation. Don’t worry! Mom won’t scold you for eavesdropping this time. In life, you can catch a few lines of conversation quickly and determine if it is something you can join or if it is a private matter you should step away from. Snowplowing This is the term I use though others probably have different ones that mean the same thing. Snowplowing is stepping into someone’s active RP conversation and overwhelming it with YOUR rp. You plow right through with what YOU want to talk about without regard to what is already going on. Not good. Everyone gets their time in the spotlight. It does not have to be your time every time. If there is already an active conversation going on or someone’s RP plot, don’t snowplow through it with your own plot. A good example. We were all at RP night in Stormwind one evening enjoying some casual conversation, doing a bit of fishing, a bit of drinking, and sharing some bawdy jokes. Up walks Darkandspooky (I’ve changed his name to protect the guilty). Immediately he begins spamming us with his description (in the form of bad emotes) and starts in with bizarre behaviors that are meant to reinforce the fact that he is “dark and spooky” (which I will discuss in a later article). Now the characters already present either continued with their conversation as if he hadn’t interrupted, or reacted in the way people who had imbibed large amounts of alcohol would. He seemed terribly upset that the other characters didn’t appropriately react to his all-powerful “dark and spooky”, but that was because he was trying to snowplow his way into the existing RP. It simply didn’t fit and forcing it wasn’t going to make it fit. There are much more subtle ways to introduce your RP thoughts, ideas, plots or conversations. RP conversation, like real life conversation, flows and convolutes and changes. It may start out as a conversation about the fish in the canals and end up discussing whizzing off the docks in Westfall. You never truly know where it is going to end up or what roads it is going to take in between. So if you’ve got something you would like to bring into the conversation, listen to it. Follow the flow. Bring it in carefully where it fits rather than trying to force it on others. Trying to force it where it doesn’t fit has a tendency to go over like a turd in a punch bowl. Sometimes conversations don’t go down the paths that would best fit what you want to talk about. Sorry sweets, but that happens sometimes. It doesn’t mean you are a bad role player. It doesn’t mean the others are trying to be rude to you. It simply means that the conversation flowed just like in real life. It is unpredictable. That is what makes it fun! Hovering Now there are two different forms of hovering. One is rude and one is not. Telling the difference is subtle so pay attention. The first form of hovering, the not-rude one, is the person sitting to the side just listening to the conversation. Maybe casually emoting something once in a while. The shy character that just wants to be near people but really doesn’t want to interact. Sometimes the hovering character has a player that is being pulled away from the keyboard frequently so lets the character sit quietly as the conversation scrolls across the screen and catches up on what is going on when they return to the keyboard. I’ve done this a number of times. This form of hovering is okay and is also a great way to learn things. By keeping the ears open and the mouth shut. The hovering that is irritating and rude is of a completely different variety. The character that walks back and forth past the conversation participants over and over and over and over again…. but never says anything. The character that sits right at the edge of the conversation (usually with their back to the others) clearing their throat, emoting other trivial things such as spilling a mug or tying their shoe or picking at the lacings on their trews…. but never says anything. They make it clear they want to rp too but are not doing anything to reach out the hand to play. As a matter of fact, their behaviors generally are not something others would comment on. If I see someone picking at their fly I’m not going to call attention to it. The latter form of hovering is a behavior that is guilty of waiting for contact. I discussed the difference between looking for contact and waiting for contact in a previous article. Inclusion isn’t a one-way street. In order for others to include you in conversation, you have to do something that they can react to. Simply wandering back and forth isn’t sufficient. I’ve seen characters just wander back and forth for twenty minutes not saying or doing anything but then getting upset because they weren’t included in the conversation. Role players are not mind readers. In order to be part of the conversation they have to be given something that they can comment on or notice. Don’t be shy. Try speaking out. It can be something simple like asking for directions or commenting on the weather. Be creative. God-moding This is by far the singlemost irritating rp behavior out there. God-moding is when you do something that affects another character without giving them leave to decide their own actions or opinions. An extreme form of god-moding would be emoting that you stab the other character, killing them instantly. It can take other, more subtle, forms though. If you emote something along the lines of another person’s character noticing that your character has eyes red from crying, that is god-moding. A better choice would be to emote that your character rubs at eyes red from crying and leave it up to the other player as to whether they notice it or not. Sometimes characters have reasons for not noticing things. Many role players won’t come flat out and tell someone they are god-moding. That is, perhaps, a fault many share. Generally they will ignore the god-moded behavior and continue on with whatever they were doing or simply ignore the character guilty of it. If you find yourself being ignored or legitimately snubbed and you truly do want to improve, don’t get angry, ask the person about it in whispers. Usually others are quite open to helping eager role players improve their rp skill. Manners, Manners, Manners! In general, role play behavior should mirror real life behavior. The same rules of manners still apply. Take time to think in these terms and you will find smooth role play laid out in front of you. Inclusion in role play also takes effort on both parts. Don’t just wander around doing nothing and get upset when you’re not included. You have to try too. Remember, everyone gets their time in the spotlight. It may not be your time at just that moment but it will be eventually. Patience is the key. And as with all things involved in role play, be creative! Even if your attempt to reach out and be involved is awkward, it gives a place to start.

Disclaimer: All views expressed in this article are the opinion of the author. She does not claim they are the only way to RP. Hopefully someone will find some merit in the article but as with all RP, it comes down to personal preference.

Character Building Part 1 - Introduction & Personality So you want to create a role play character. You want this character to be interesting, be attractive, be loved by those around, have others to interact with regularly, etc. How do you go about it? As a writer and role player for 20+ years, I’ve learned a few things along the way about character building. I’ve made many of the mistakes that afflict new writers and role players and have seen firsthand the results. It is my hope that some of what I have learned the hard way can make character building less painful for venturing into the role play realm. Because building a good character is such a far reaching topic, I will break it down into a series of articles to make for easier reading. Fun Everyone wants their character to be fun to play. If the character isn’t fun then what is the point in logging in and slogging through the levels? I’m sure we’ve all created a number of alts then abandoned them for various reasons simply because they were not fun. First thing you need to look at is what do you find fun? Do you like being by yourself or being in large groups? Do you like one on one interaction? Do you like funny, light-hearted RP or do you like more serious and dramatic? All of these must be considered when building a character. Interest Everyone wants to have an interesting character. After all, if the character isn’t interesting then what is the point in having him or her around? There are several factors that play into whether a character is interesting or not; Personality, Appearance, Believability, Weaknesses, and Background. These are just boiled down because sometimes factors overlap but this is a good starting point. Let’s Talk About Personality Try to create a personality that not only you can enjoy playing but one that others enjoy interacting with. That is if you want interaction with others. If the character bites, insults, or otherwise abuses others about them for no apparent reason and with great frequency, you’ll soon find yourself without anyone to interact with. This goes for drama llamas too. (See definition below). Now I’m not saying every character has to be Polly Pureheart, but they should have enough redeeming qualities that there is something to bring others back to play. First generalization you need to consider is do you want to play a good guy or a bad guy? This may seem like a silly thing to consider, but it is the beginning point of your personality. Don’t worry, there are bad guy characters that are cool beyond belief and others certainly do want to interact with them. Good Guys: First off, not all good guys are of the Polly Pureheart variety. By being a “good” guy, that could be as simple as someone who works hard, helps others, brings food to their sick aunt Patty. Then there are the extreme good guys. If you’re going to play a good guy, you need to think about the level of the character’s goodness. Now, as with many things, there are areas of gray. Not everything is black and white. Perhaps the character is mostly good in that they do not try to actively harm innocents. They try to be good but sometimes what may seem good to them, is not so good to others. During the course of play, these types of situations will also help shape the character. Bad Guys: Not all bad guys have to be of the kitten-eating demon variety. Someone who is greedy or a bit of a megalomaniac can be considered a bad guy. Perhaps it is someone who feels they have no choice in what they do. It doesn’t mean they are not a fun character just because they are a bad guy. Some bad guys are obviously bad, but they are so cool and suave about it we continue to be drawn to them. I use Dr. Doom from Marvel Comics as an example of a cool bad guy. He’s bad, he’s a megalomaniac, and he wants to kill the Fantastic Four… a lot. But he’s cool. If you can create a bad guy with the element that leaves others saying “Wow. That character is bad… but cool!” you’ve created a good bad guy. Common Personality Traps: When creating your character, there are a few common personality traps that you should try to avoid, otherwise you may have others rolling their eyes at your character or just avoiding it all together. Mr./Ms. Perfect: The character that is so pure, so heroic, so sweet, so loving and so GORGEOUS that everyone should lust after them and want to be their friend/lover/pet/champion. Nobody is that perfect. Others like to interact with characters they can in some way identify with. Why do they roll their eyes at Mr. Perfect? Because he is not believable. Disbelief cannot be suspended with this type of character because they do not exist in life. (Zydrate's Note: In RP communities, this is generally referred to as a "Mary Sue") Superbad: Superbad is a character so evil they eat kittens on their Cheerios, happily slaughter their way through Stormwind on a daily basis and steal Ol’ Emma’s water bucket just for laughs. In general, they treat everyone around them like crap. And they are sooooo bad nobody in the universe could ever hope to quell them! This one should be self-explanatory. Who wants to interact with someone that treats everyone around them so badly? Where’s the fun in that? If people enjoyed being treated like crap they’d go back to High School! Even bad guys need some redeeming qualities. Drama Llama: “Oh my life is so tragic! It is more tragic than yours could ever be! There is nothing that could ever be done to make my life less tragic! And nobody else cares!” /eyeroll Yep. Nobody else cares. You know why? Because the drama llama seeks only for everyone else to fawn over her while she whines and wallows in misery. How is that fun for anyone but the llama? Others expending their energy trying to make someone feel better or help them out and that person continues to wallow. Eventually people run out of energy to expend and go off to do something fun. The one factor these types have in common is extremes. Anything taken to extremes gets real old, real fast. A good character has a balanced personality. A good character is not only fun for the player, but fun for those around as well. Zydrate’s Note: A lot of this section had to be omitted because it had an emphasis on World of Warcraft Lore. Sorry about that. Character Building Part 2 - Background Every character has a history of some sort buried away somewhere. This history filled with experiences shape the character’s personality, reactions, quirks, hobbies, style – everything about them. Sometimes finding that background is the most difficult task in character creation. Don’t worry, we’ve all been there. Often times you have to play the character before you can fully flesh out the background. Many role players and writers refer to this as “giving the character time to tell you about it” or waiting for the character to start “talking”. No, they aren’t suffering from delusions or multiple personality disorder. This is simply giving their subconcious imagination time to brew up what it needs to fit the character and manifesting it in a way that is easier to translate into written or role played form. Taking time with the character, seeing how a few things play out, is usually the best way to build a background. If you have it all written out before you ever set foot in the world with the character, can sometimes be very limiting. The last thing you want to do is restrict yourself and the character you play beyond your ability to have fun with them. That being said, you should have a general idea about where they come from before you let them speak. Here are a few tips to help you get started. Know The Lore You don’t have to be an absolute fiend about knowing the lore of the game to create a feasible background, however you should have a general idea of the history of the race you’re going to play and some idea of timeline. Avoid The Eyeroll There are some common backgrounds that I see from many new role players that leave me rolling my eyes. I’ve heard the same comment from other long time role players as well. While this is RP and you are more than welcome to play what you like, if you want to interact with others and avoid the eyeroll response, try to avoid some of these common background traps. The Vampire While you may think its cool and spooky to play a vampire, when you announce to other players that you’re a vampire, you leave many of them rolling their eyes and putting your character name on a mental – if not actual – ignore list. If you want to play a vampire, check out Vampire: The Masquerade and its subsequent additions. It’s a very good table top game for vampires. The Daughter/Son of (Insert Major Lore Character Here) It's generally considered bad form to make your character be related to a known NPC. It simply feels like you're trying too hard to seem "special" or "distinguished". There are MANY other ways to go about this, make sure not to fall into this trap. The Catgirl Whether it is born to a druid in cat form or the product of a mating between a druid in cat form and a wild tiger, it’s overdone, and simply put – ridiculous. You may think you’re being so creative with your cat-tail hanging down and your furry ears and you’re pointed teeth peeking out of your mouth, but if you go around claiming you’re a catgirl (or boy) don’t be surprised if you’re not taken seriously. The Trauma Llama Everything bad that could ever happen to a character has all happened to this character at least twice. Now while bad things are a part of everyone’s history, nobody enjoys a trauma llama that wallows in it, spouts it to every person they meet on the street, and tries to one-up everyone else’s traumatic events. If the trauma of the character’s life is the be-all, end-all of their background you’re going to have a difficult time getting anyone to take an interest. This is a game meant for fun. Trauma can, and does, help shape a character, but it shouldn’t be the sole focus of their life and history. Where is the fun in that? Think Creative Without Being Outrageous It is possible to create a wonderful, interesting, and colorful background for your character without being a victim of the eyeroll. Your character doesn’t have to be the leader's illegitimate half-demon catgirl in disguise to be interesting or fun to interact with. Don’t try to force importance, validity, or take any aspect of the background to extremes. A good background is like a good personality; well-balanced and feasible. Do not underestimate the power of the ordinary. The Background of your character does not have to be grand or outrageous or even noteworthy. It is merely a tool to help shape the personality of the character, to help guide their actions and reactions when you play them. It’s there to give you something to talk about on occasion. What’s wrong with being a mere notekeeper? A mere Soldier or Apprentice? It isn’t the background that makes the character, it is how you play the character that makes them. It is how that character acts and reacts with others. It is their views, their loves, their dislikes, their mannerisms. Let the character make the character. If you’re creative and confident enough to do that, you’ll do just fine.

Character Building Part 3 - Appearance Tips For Writing A Good Description When writing a description for your character, remember that there are five senses; Sight, Sound, Taste, Touch and Smell. Now it is unlikely you’ll write what your character tastes like. I know I don’t usually walk up to someone I’ve just met and lick them. Touch might be a bit awkward, but there are some situations where this sense should not be written off entirely. Your most commonly used sense in descriptions is going to be sight, however sound and smell have their own validity. Sound This could cover the sound of their voice, the rattle of their armor, the beads on their shirt. There are many things that could be incorporated into the sound of a character. Remember to listen to your character’s appearance when writing about it. Smell The sense of smell is one of the most powerful we have. It can draw us to someone or repel us. There are many things that could stimulate our sense of smell. Does the character wear any scented oils? Are they consistently sweaty? Do they smell of grass? Herbs? Close your eyes a moment when writing about the character and think about how they would smell. If something stands out, then put it in the description. Sight This is going to be the sense most characters will touch first. What they see will be a key indicator in other’s first impression. Some of the basic descriptors are hair length, color (if it is different than the avatar), build, height, and weight. Some of the more detailed descriptors are eye shape, color, face shape, jewelry worn, or condition of clothing (neat, ragged, dirty, etc). Then there are outstanding features. Outstanding features can cover a number of things; missing limbs, eye patches, limps, anything of that sort. Large ornamentation, visible body paint, oddly colored stripes in the hair. Something that would stand out. These outstanding features should most definitely be included in the description. Be creative on these. Don’t go for easy. Take some time and think about the character and what, if anything, might stand out. And be sure to include at least something on how they dress. Loose fitting, ragged, neat, armored? Think about that as well. And while I realize this is, indeed, a fantasy game, understand before you write “this person wears armor, even while sleeping”, that you understand (from a person that has worn plate armor for several hours on end on numerous occasions) that armor is uncomfortable. It is bulky, difficult to move in, noisy, stiff, and pinches in places that a body was never meant to be pinched! Mannerisms should be considered when writing a description as well. Does this person flinch when new people approach? Do they have a notebook they carry with them at all times? Is their hand constantly on their weapon? Do they have a teddy bear tucked under their arm? These sorts of observations in the description give a bit of insight into the character’s personality. Something that can be seen to support their actions and reactions when we encounter them in actual contact. Keep It Simple Now that I have told you all the wonderful things you should think about when describing your character, I’m going to confuse you by telling you to keep it short and simple. I can hear your cries of “Foul!” from all over, but honestly, especially when it comes to an in-game addon description, few people will read one that is overly long and complicated. We don’t really need great details about how many buttons are on the character's shirt or which direction he laces his boots. Give us the most obvious in the most succinct manner possible. Having a novel for a description will actually hinder people reading it. Avoid God-Moding When writing a description, god-moding involves describing a trait and how the reader feels about that trait. Avoid writing things such as “Your jaw drops when you see her enormous bosom.” Honestly I couldn’t care less about her bosom. I’m not in the habit of looking at them. I have one of my very own that I have to look at every day. That is an extreme example but they are out there. However there are others that are more subtle, but just as incorrect. For example if you were to write “He is the most handsome man you have ever seen.” How do you know? Whether a person is handsome or not is a matter of opinion. You should never try to force an opinion on someone else. Let them judge whether they find that character handsome or not. Instead of telling us he’s handsome, tell us about the traits that YOU think makes him handsome. Describe the dark skin, black hair, golden eyes – whatever! But don’t tell us we think he’s handsome. Description Only Please When writing a description, especially for in-game addons, do not include information such as the background of the character or what kind of personality traits they have. We can’t see that, hear it, smell it, the first time we encounter that person. A description is just that; a description. Do not include information that is not apparent to the senses of other players. By putting in that information you’re expanding the length of the description unnecessarily and making it less likely anyone will read it. If they want to know that, they’ll find out when talking to the character! Avoid The /eyeroll Now I’m not going to try to tell you what your character should look like; only you can decide that. What I am going to offer are some tips on what will elicit the /yawn or /eyeroll response. Many role players when first starting out want a character that is particularly handsome or beautiful. There are probably a number of psychological reasons behind this and I won’t attempt to delve into them, however I can point out a few of the most common appearance traps. The Scar This is a harsh world our characters live in. Some scarring might to happen. If that is the focus of your character’s description, then it is not a very interesting character. Where extreme scarring is rare IRL and shocking when you see it, it is so common in role play descriptions that it seldom elicits more than /yawn. If your character has scars and there is a reason for them, by all means, write about them, but don’t just use them to make the character “cool”. Chicks don’t dig scars. There are literally hundreds of ridiculous description traps that I could write about here, but that would make this article far too long. I’ll try to summarize and make this all fit together in a final bit of advice. • Keep it simple • Think with your senses • Avoid description opinions • If it sounds even slightly ridiculous to you, it probably is. Zydrate’s Note: I've omitted a couple others that were noted on the source, such as "The Buxom" and "The Cyber-Bait". Players here (Conan Exiles) would probably be less concerned considering half the point of this custom server is to ERP. Still, I'd recommend being a bit classy with it. Build a character for world interaction, and sexual encounters will come regardless. Sexuality is just a mere footnote to a character's complexity. Don't drown others in it, but there's no need to shy away from it either. And one final bit of advice, especially if you are new to role play; if you have a friend who also role plays, get them to read your description and give an honest evaluation. Tell them they MUST be honest. Having others read it and tell you what works and what doesn’t work is a great way to learn.

Character Building Part 4 - Weaknesses Throughout these articles I have discussed the need for balance. One of the features that make a character well balanced is weaknesses. Their weaknesses will contribute to their personality, behaviors, responses to others and different situations. Weaknesses are woven deeply into everything about the character and provide a more well-rounded personality. After all, nobody is perfect. Weaknesses contribute greatly to who a character – or person – is. Well-crafted weaknesses are just as important and interesting as any other element of your character. It would be impossible to determine a character’s strengths without weaknesses to offset them. Weaknesses can also provide something to work towards. If, for example, the character is scared of dogs, that provides a goal to work toward; overcoming that fear of dogs. Types of Weaknesses There are certainly many types of weaknesses, but they can be most easily broken down into two; Psychological and Physical. Psychological weaknesses are those that spring from the character’s own mind. Whether it is a fear of heights or narcississtic tendencies, they are self-defeating weaknesses. Psychological weaknesses are, in essence, controlled by the character’s own mind, which makes them especially difficult to overcome. They may have been created by some severe trauma in the character’s past or perhaps some other event that brought it on. However it came to be, it is part of the character and may or may not be something that can be overcome. Physical weaknesses are of the sort that affect the character’s physical appearance or abilities. Physical weaknesses can also cause psychological ones that are closely intertwined. A physical weakness might include a missing limb, sensory loss (blindness, deafness), vertigo, or some sort of disease or condition such as allergies. Physical weaknesses can be caused by injury, disease, birth defect or any number of other factors that can affect physical appearance or ability. Severity Not all weaknesses are of the debilitating variety. Some are small, just little quirks of a sort. Some are humorous, some are sad, some are so outrageous we find ourselves trying to fix the person we encounter with it simply to have it gone. Sometimes we give our characters weaknesses without even realizing we’ve done so. Is your character bigoted toward another race? Do they drink to excess? Are they lazy, dishonest, scared of the dark? Do they have a teddy bear that must be with them at all times? Are they promiscuous? These are all weaknesses that help to round out the character. When deciding the severity of your weaknesses, however, be sure that you don’t write yourself into a role play corner and leave yourself with a character that is unplayable. I have a friend that wrote a character that has issues with his foot. Severe enough to keep him from adventuring. He recently realized that this made it very difficult to get anything done with the character and is working on a role play reason to make the character viable again. My friend is an excellent and creative RPer so I have faith he will have no problem coming up with a creative and believable way to make this happen, but it helps to illustrate the point here. All things in moderation. Don’t defeat yourself and your character before you’ve even started playing it. Reasoning If you are going to build a weakness into your character, be sure there is a believable reason behind it. Do they dislike the Strangers because one of them stole his prized shield? Are they repulsed by the smell of the clockworks? Did they lose their left pinky toe in the fight with Vanaduke? Be creative but be believable. The weaknesses must fit the persona, not just be tacked on because you think they are “cool”. In-Play Happenings Sometimes weaknesses can come from happenings in current RP. These can either be temporary or permanent, depending on the situation. Whatever the case, again, make sure they are believable. When coming up with other happenings that influence your character, make sure it is not something you’ve already done to death. If your character is possessed by demons every Tuesday, others are not likely to give the reaction you’re looking for. They are more likely to roll their eyes and relegate you to a forgotten corner of obscurity. Avoid The Most Common Trap The single most common weakness trap is “Sir Buford is afraid of failure.” Now, if played properly, this can be a valid weakness, however quite often it is seen as a cop-out for someone trying to run Mr. Perfect who never has failures, and has no weakness. Remember, weaknesses can be fun! They don’t have to be huge and traumatic. Be creative and go with what fits the character. 

Character Building Part 5 - Believability & Summary Over the course of these articles I’ve tried to give some basic tips on creating a believable character. Most role players want a character that is fun to play and fun for others to interact with. After all, if we don’t have others to interact with then we have no true role play. It is like writing a story with nobody to read it. Vastly unfulfilling. One thing holds true for all creative endeavors; if your audience, or in this case those you interact with, do not enjoy your story/character, they will find someone else to play with. You will find your sandbox sadly empty. Believability is an important factor for any character you create and hope to play. If other players do not find the character believable, then this dampens their enjoyment and they will gravitate elsewhere. What makes a character believable? Many things actually, but most importantly are the traits that we can identify with. It doesn’t matter if you’re playing an undead mage, bi-pedal cow, or cloven-hoofed warrior of the Light. If your character has traits we can identify with, and if they are presented in a reasonable and logical way, the character can be believable… and likeable. Watch out for extremes. If our character is always emo, flogging themselves about how horrid they are, that gets old real fast. If the character is perfection itself, can do no harm or wrong, that also gets old real fast. You don’t have to push the character over the edge to be interesting. I can’t say it enough; Do Not Underestimate The Power Of The Ordinary. So many people out there are trying to build RP heroes and gods and whathaveyous. Trying to capture fame by forcing “importance” on their character. Trying to steal respect without earning it. In all things; looks, personality, background; the ordinary can be the most fascinating and extraordinary thing to others. What you may see as ordinary, may be the most incredibly fascinating trait to the next person you interact with. Give it a try. 

Role Play 101: Romance in RP- The Good, The Bad and the Ugly Now before you start to point and snicker, muttering about “cyborz”, notice the title is ROMANCE, not ERP. We get plenty of that too but there's plenty of reason to be mature about it all. Romance and sex are friendly concepts in many settings, this server more than some. Romance can cover a wide range of emotional depth from the friends that exchange flowers on occasion to full fledged lovers or marrieds. Role playing romance DOES NOT mean cyber just like reading a book that has romantic elements does not mean reading porn. The Good If you choose to involve your character in romantic relationships it can bring in another level of role play that is interesting and a good development tool for the character. It can also bring pleasant interaction and memories for both the character and the player to counteract the war-stricken and depressing world they live in. It’s a way to see that even in such terrible times, life does go on. There is hope and there are things to take joy in. Emotional beings need that. If a mind is constantly bombarded with the awful with no respite, eventually it will break down. The Bad Sometimes RP romance can be taken too far; too seriously. Always always always remember IT IS RP. IT IS NOT REAL. I have seen people who’s characters are involved in romantic RP begin to believe that it is an actual relationship and when one of those involved plays another character or spends time with other friends, the other gets jealous or angry. These are pixilated images inside a box of computer parts. They are not real flesh, bone or emotion. They are story characters that we play with and read about but do not really exist. Do not fall into the trap of thinking they do. The Ugly I have seen RP romances turn sour and because one party or both have taken it too seriously, when the RP romance fails, it destroys the friendship between the players. I have also seen it go so far as to fracture guilds. Bands of friends choosing sides because one or two people pushed it too far. Truly a sad affair and one that should NEVER be allowed to happen in RP. Rules For Romance In RP While this list may not be all inclusive, I will try to provide at least a beginner’s guide for those looking to involve their character in RP romance. Much of this may seem like common sense but perhaps, for some, reading it will drive it home and give pause before the ugly rears its head. 1 – The most important! If you forget everything else, do not forget this! – RP Romance is not real. It is an interactive story development. Nothing more. 2 – The character your character is involved with has a player behind it too. This player usually has other obligations such as real life, other friends, guild members, other characters that they want to play as well. Don’t try to monopolize their time. 3 – Don’t let your time be monopolized either. If you have other things you wish to do, be sure the other player understands this as well. 4 – “Intimate” role play should be decided on in advance by both parties. Set your boundaries and stick to them, or be respectful of the other person’s boundaries as well. 5 – Make sure all boundaries and limitations are clear and understood. Do you only have time once a week to dedicate to RP? Do you have another character that you want to spend time on as well? Do you want to be able to spend time leveling as well as role playing? Make sure it is all clear. 6 – If something comes up that is going to keep you away from contact for a while, let the other person know. Heck, let all your friends that you play with know! They’re your friends. If you just disappear without a word they worry about you. 7 – The other player likely has other characters that they want to play too. These other characters may become, or already be involved, romantically with characters that are not yours. This is acceptable. Do not get jealous or snippy because the player wants to spend time with other friends too. This comes back to both #1 and #2. Making It Work Now there are many factors that play into whether romance can be feasible. First off, it is not likely the characters are going to be able to spend as much actual time together as a couple might in real life and trying to do that will cause issues of its own. However there are still ways to have the characters “be together” in down times that will fit with the RP and won’t leave anyone feeling pressured. Zydrate’s Note: There was a whole section about fading to black and "It can be assumed..." but this is (Conan Exiles). Most romance and sex is actively roleplayed. It might be assumed that characters spent the night in bed together and when you log off, the other has gone on a hunt. Many ways to play it. Combining Objectives Are you questing in similar areas? Level ranges? Have the same instances you need to hit? So make them into a RP session. Grab a group of like-minded individuals for that instance and RP as you go. Run around the countryside with your RP muffin and complete quests while engaging in conversation and the occasional stolen kiss. Be creative. RP doesn’t always have to be just sitting in a bar in Stormwind. You can RP and accomplish other tasks as well. Schedule It Set up a time or day that you and your RP partner are scheduled to hang out together in game. That way neither of you gets lost in the shuffle. Maybe every Wednesday you meet for RP dinner at the Blue Recluse. Perhaps Friday is the night that you both have set aside to kill monsters. Be creative and keep it interesting. Maybe all you want to do is sit in a chair and talk all night. That’s good too. By scheduling a day/time to do it then you avoid the hit or miss of scheduling differences. Write It A great deal of story can be created and told through written RP. Most guilds associated with RP have a place for storytelling. By creating a written story coinciding with the in-game RP, there is a great deal more information and development of character that can be accomplished. So you’re not the greatest writer in the world. How will you get better if you don’t practice? Use your spellchecker and your grammar checker and then learn as you go. Share the story as it grows and give it the details that we cannot see or experience in game. It’s a great way to tie everything together when actual play time is limited. As with anything, communication and respect are very important when involving your character in RP Romance. Have fun with it. Be creative. But always remember, it is just RP. 

Role Play 101: Drama In RP: How Much is Too Much? Every story must have some conflict or drama to be interesting. When it involves RP, how much is too much? Every player has their own tolerance threshold for character drama. Some are going to have a fairly high tolerance, some are going to have a fairly low one, and some it will depend on what they have recently been involved in, how believable the drama is, and how original it is. Personally, I only rarely create major dramatic threads for my characters. Why? Because they get real old, real fast. I rarely get involved in other people’s major plot lines. Why? Same reason. Part of the problem with major RP threads is the time commitment. Most major drama threads require a commitment of time either in game or in written RP that many folks have trouble making. This is a busy world, things happen and the larger the storyline, the more people involved, the greater the chance that someone will have trouble meeting the time obligations due to real life. There is also the interest factor. I can attest to the fact that after waiting for days on end for the next person to do their part, interest wans. You want to move on, do other things, spend your time on something that is moving rather than wasting it waiting. RP Is For Fun The one point I cannot stress enough is that RP is for fun. It is not supposed to feel like work. It is not supposed to create stress. It should leave all participants with the feeling that they enjoyed themselves. It should not leave anyone feeling bruised, angry, or in any other way stressed out. I realize that many people find the long, drawn out, dramatic role plays fun but I ask you, for how long? For whom? Please stay tuned as I explain. At one point in the rp community on my (old) server there was a chick, we’ll call her Chiclet to protect her identity, that wasn’t content unless she was surrounded by huge dramatic rp. If there wasn’t huge drama going on that she could somehow switch the spotlight to her, she would create it. She became a bit of a joke among role players with her “weekly demon possession” and people quickly learned to avoid her. Now there are many reasons why Chiclet became a joke. First off there was the overuse of old plots. She had been possessed by demons no less than four times that I am aware of. One possession well played (which I have never seen done) can be an interesting plot. More than that and people yawn and walk away. It’s too much! It is not believable and if it was poorly done the first time, the second and third won’t be any better. Chiclet never allowed for down time either. It would be wave upon wave of huge dramatic RP. She was possessed, she was dying, she was pregnant, she was pregnant with a dying possessed catgirl… You get the idea. After a while, others get tired of expending their time and energy. Finding The Line There is a definite line in dramatic RP and some people are very good at not crossing it. Others, not so good. The difficult part is finding that line in the first place. RP is meant to mirror reality in many ways. Even though we're in a fantasy setting, the aspects of life, of believability are what draw people back. They want a glimpse of people, situations, places, creatures they will otherwise never see. They want a story to entertain them for a few hours here and there. They want to interact with that story and influence it and have it affect their characters in return. Because this is a fantasy setting, we’re pushing the line of believability every day. However, you can push the setting believability line a lot further than you can push the character believability line. Characters should mirror life much closer than any other aspect of your story. Their life path and how they deal with it are the elements that will draw others back or repel them. Life is full of ups and downs. I know for a fact that there are times when it feels like it is nothing but downs, but truly there are ups too. When looking at a character as portrayed in RP there are a few things to consider when planning their plot. First off, if you only give the character down moments, never any up moments, you’re going to turn others off really fast. The character that is the perpetual downer that ONLY has bad things happen, has them happen three times a day, and is so traumatized by every single one of them that they can never be happy is not very interesting. People reading, or participating in, a story like for things to get better. Like for the character to have ups as well as downs. After all, if nothing ever gets better, what is the point in trying? People don’t like to have hope killed. Hope keeps us, as human beings, plugging along through our lives even when things are bad. If the characters in our entertainment have no hope, it creates a sense of fear that we have none either. How the character deals with it is another point that can draw people in or repel them. Time to talk honestly here. Overall, tragedy makes people uncomfortable. We feel helpless in our lack of ability to fix it. Sometimes we can do something to help ease it, but overall, we’re not truly comfortable again until it is gone. If we can watch that character actually work towards improving their situation, we can follow the story with pleasure because it builds up that sense of hope. The “mud puddle” character is not going to accomplish that. What is the “mud puddle” character you ask? That is the character that falls into the mud puddle and instead of trying to climb out, just sits there, splashing around in the dirty water, saying, “Oh no! Oh no! I’ve fallen into a mud puddle!” Because we only see the characters for such a small amount of time, every moment that we do see them that is influenced by the downs is going to be magnified. Because we don’t see the flashes through the day of them just staring at the sun daydreaming, or sleeping peacefully at night. What we do see is intensified by the short amount of time that we see it. Some drama is great for a story. But give your “readers” breathing space or you may find yourself RPing alone. Now if you are sitting there insisting that your character is defined only by tragedy, then I have nothing further to say to you. You’re stuck in the mud puddle, you don’t want to get out, and nothing anyone says is going to convince you otherwise. However if you’re the one reading this that wants there to be more to your character that a string of cheap misery tricks, read on! No Firm Numbers Nobody can give you firm numbers on how long you should wait between dramatic events. RP, like life, should be fluid. It should not be forced. Let it flow and take it’s own path. If it feels too soon for something else to happen, likely it is WAY too soon. The owner of the character is always the last one to recognize this. While many role players will say their character “talks” to them, we all do have some control over the path they take. And you should exert that control on occasion to make sure the character is not only fun to play but fun to interact with. Role playing alone isn’t nearly so much fun! If you’ve played out a major dramatic storyline, give your character some time off. Let them run around doing mundane things for a while. Take them fishing, to an evening out in a pub, for an afternoon walk in the park with their pet worg. Let them live a normal life for a while. If your character has a tendency towards depression, give them a few moments of “uptime” here and there. Let them enjoy themselves while questing with others or find something they do enjoy for a while. If it is something they’ve done alone, let them talk to others about it. Eeyore is cute, but after a while his bummer attitude gets a little old. Be Creative As with anything involved in rp, be creative. Down time doesn’t have to mean dull time. With a bit of creativity you could even make sitting on a curb eating cheese interesting. Be imaginative! Is there something simple that you don’t often play out with your character? Well, try it! Something totally off the wall that they’ve never done? Do it! The really fun part is the “why” behind it. Give it a shot! Try walking through a city, but don’t just walk! Interact! Set up a macro that has the character nod at those they pass or bump into them or something else. Nothing is going to be perfect every time. Nothing is going to be audience captivating every time. But if you keep trying, keep testing new things, keep the audience entertained without forcing depression down their throats, you’ll have more fun than you could imagine. Gloom, despair and agony are not the only path to interesting role play. I have said it before in other articles; Never underestimate the power of the ordinary. Make it a challenge for yourself to take something ordinary and turn it into something extraordinary. So you’re standing at the mailbox reading a letter. What can you do to make it fun? Interesting? To draw others in? Giggle at the letter? Start talking back to it as if the author could hear you? If walking through town, what can you make happen by tripping over that warpstalker’s tail? Make it a challenge to yourself. Take an ordinary situation and challenge yourself to make it something else. If you like, come back here and tell me about it. I would love to hear your story and I’m sure others would too!

  RP 101: The Difference Between "Looking for Contact" and "Waiting for Contact" The single most common complaint I hear from role players is either “nobody RPs anymore!” or “I can’t find anyone to RP with!” My first instinct is to ask, “Does that include you?” You see, there are lots of profile's running around out there that say “In Character, Looking For Contact” but are you *looking* for contact, or *waiting* for contact. There is a distinct difference. Looking for contact is the act of putting out effort to find, create, or otherwise engage others in RP. Waiting for contact is sitting on a bridge, saying nothing, waiting for others to engage you. Do you see the difference here? In a perfect world, we would all have RP dropped into our lap whenever we wanted. This is far from a perfect world, however, and in order to find RP, you also have to be willing to put out some effort. If everyone just sits around waiting for RP, when is it ever going to happen? Someone has to take the initiative. How can you tell if you are looking or waiting? Through a simple analysis of your own in-game behaviors. Do you approach others with their looking for contact tag up? If someone you don’t know comes up while you are engaged in conversation do you try to include them? Do you walk while in town instead of run? Do you put on RP clothes? If you answered no to these questions, you are waiting. Looking for contact does involve some effort but is not as difficult or scary as you might believe. I’ll try to provide some tips and hints to set you on the right path to finding the RP you crave. Clues To Finding The Role Players Now just a name is not always enough to pick out who role plays and who does not. Watch behaviors too. Walking in town is always a good indicator. Wearing “street clothes” rather than armor is one too. Are they a member of a well known RP guild? If you see them talk in /say, is it IC? There are lots of subtle indicators, and some not-so-subtle, that can lead you closer to someone who would be more receptive to role play. Making IC Contact Lots of people have difficulty making first contact IC. Called “first contact fear”, hopefully I will be able to provide some tips here that will help others to overcome this. Don’t worry! You are not alone. Everyone has felt that first contact anxiety at some point. It can be overcome. The most common question is “Why would my character talk to that person?” Why indeed? This is where you have to be creative! It doesn’t have to be something profound. Find an excuse. If you wanted to strike up a conversation with someone in real life, what would you do? It could be as simple as complimenting their clothing or if they have a pet, comment on that. Comment on the weather or ask for directions. Use your imagination. All it has to be is something to get the conversation started. Making OOC Contact When you simply cannot come up with an idea to start a conversation IC, resort to OOC. Send the person a whisper OOC. Something along the lines of /tell Person (( Hey! I notice you have you're speaking IC. Would you like to RP? )) Don’t let fear keep you from at least trying. Most people are either going to be receptive or tell you if they are about to log or leave to go to a raid or whatever. Sometimes you may not get a response at all. Don’t assume this is a snub. The person may be on a stealth afk. Or they may be wrapped up in drama over other channels. Or they may simply miss it in the spam. Because this is a typed medium, be sure you give plenty of time to respond before you move on. But don’t let one failed attempt keep you from trying again. It is only through trying that we ever succeed. Events Another way to find RP is to attend events. Small weekly gatherings or larger events thrown open to the public are a great way to make contact with others. Yes, this may mean giving up an evening of Vanaduke runs, but if you want to find RP, you have to make the effort. Check your forum for events. Also check any guild forums you frequent or other forums tied to your interests. Ask around among people who are well known on the server. Likely they will know of any upcoming events or where to find information on them. When you attend events, be sure you don’t just sit on the side and wait for others to talk to you. RP is a two-way street. It takes effort from both sides to make it happen. If you attend a ball, mingle! Talk with others, compliment their clothes, comment on something you hear in passing. Once again, be creative. You are looking, not waiting, remember? If there are no events coming up, consider organizing one. That isn’t as complicated as it may seem either. See my previous article on Hosting A Role Play Event for ideas and information on this fun and rewarding process. Don’t Be A Wallflower Apathy kills RP. I cannot say that enough. If we all sit around and wait for RP to happen then who is going to initiate it? We must all put forth effort to make it happen and keep it alive. Don’t expect others to bring RP to you. Step out of the safety of silence and look for it. Don’t be discouraged if it doesn’t work out every time. That’s normal! The more you try, the more success you will have! If you sit around like the wallflower at the prom, don’t be upset if nobody asks you to dance. The next time you find yourself complaining about there not being any role play, ask yourself what are you doing to get some going. With a little bit of effort, we can make more RP happen for everyone! 

Zydrate's Note: The first part of this next article was personalized for the actual writer of all this, but it all leads up a very specific point so I'll simply replace her bio with, well, mine.

Role Play 101: The Other Side of the Pixels I’m going to touch on a subject that all players, not just role-players, should keep in mind. It may seem like it has nothing to do with RP and therefore has no place in this series of articles, but I assure you it does. It has a very firm place in all interactions we have online and I hope people will read it and take it to heart. Who Am I? Who Are You? Hi. I'm Zydrate. I like to write stories and play video games. My home life is not terribly impressive; I'm 29 and I work as a bagger in a grocery store. I enjoy the job but it does not pay well, and thus puts a strain on my home life. I live with my brother, mother who in turn also lives with her mother. My brother has mental issues which prevent him from getting a job as well. My entire family has various forms of depression of varying severity. I have dreams and daydreams, I think every day about what I'm going to do the next. I have wishes and goals and theories. In other words, I am a human being on the other side of that computer; a real person with real feelings that can be damaged by carelessness. Just as I am sure you are too. It’s a tragedy that so often that fact is forgotten or blatantly disregarded in a world that conducts so much of its business, communication and social interaction online. We may be utilizing a heartless machine to communicate, but the being doing the communication is still human and should be treated as such. Sometimes it’s far too easy to forget that person on the other side. Many times it is incredibly easy to misinterpret something that was typed or to type something that seems fine at the moment but might act like a fiery brand on the temper of the person on the other side. Other times it is far too easy to hide behind the Great Wall of Internet Anonymity and be an ass. Verbal vs. Electronic While a study in human nature determining what the exact percentage of our communication is nonverbal is nigh impossible, fair estimates put it firmly somewhere between 85-95% with 93% being the most common approximation. So that means that approximately 93% of the meaning of our message is conveyed through nonverbal cues; tone, volume, inflection of voice, facial expression, body language and eye contact. Literally hundreds of messages can be conveyed through half a dozen spoken words by the nonverbal signals we send. Our world is moving deeper and deeper into the digital age. The average person conducts somewhere between 40-60% of their daily communication electronically, either by email, text, chat programs, social networking sites, etc. Each year that amount increases as electronic communication becomes faster, cheaper, easier. Our youth grow up in a world where instant, anonymous communication is the norm. Yet none of those forms allow for nonverbal cues. Now considering the message conveyed in the two previous paragraphs, is it any wonder that it is so easy for drama, cruelty, depression, anger and frustration to explode so fast and so painfully over the internet? The Great Wall of Internet Anonymity It really is easy to hide behind internet anonymity. That dark little voice in the back of your head that reminds you that person doesn’t know you. You don’t know them. You don’t have to look them in the eye, you don’t have to acknowledge their feelings, you don’t have to witness the pain you cause. We are empowered by being anonymous. This freedom from having to acknowledge others as sentient beings with viable feelings and emotions that should be respected leads to hordes of people across the cyberverse that display little or no regard for others. They don’t know that elf/troll/dwarf/noob/pug personally so they feel no responsibility to treat them with common courtesy. I’m sure there are a number of people that have stopped reading by now or will stop shortly but think really hard. Examine your behaviors and really look at them. Consider them from the other side of the computer. “Noob.” “WTF! Idiot!” “You suck!” “OMG you can’t heal/tank/dps!” It’s so easy to type. It is so easy to picture the fingers typing the message. But when the same messages are directed back, they don’t feel very good, do they? You feel angry, hurt, confused. It’s even easier to lash back because we feel justified in our anger. “They started it! I’m going to finish it!” syndrome. Sometimes the messages are more subtle. How we type a phrase always has the chance of being misinterpreted. Wording is a very tricky matter if you don’t pay attention. Study the three following sentences and see if you can pick out which one is the best and why the others might cause problems even though they all say the same thing. #1 - “If you don’t pick up your dps you’re going to get kicked out.” #2 - “You even going to try getting your dps up, noob?” #3 - “Your dps seems a little low. Do you need some help figuring out why?” #1 – The other person has just been threatened. It might have been meant as a warning or advisement, but the more common interpretation is going to be seeing it as a threat. Being threatened causes a person to become defensive; feeling the need to defend/protect themself. The most common reaction is going to be to strike back. #2 – The other person has just been insulted. When typed it might have been meant in a joking way however there are no nonverbal cues to communicate that so the more common interpretation is going to be as a deliberate and cruel insult. Once again, the person has been put on the defensive. Most common response is likely to be the same as the threat. #3 – It should be obvious that number 3 is a more correct path to prevent hurt feelings and explosive drama. I hope to many it is, but it’s also easy to forget. In number three it has been communicated that there may be a perception that something is wrong and there is an offer to figure out why this is so. There is no accusation, no insult, no threats. Nobody responds well to threats, insults, accusations in any form. Always think about what you are going to type before you hit that enter key, sending it into someone’s face. One should never feel justified in cruelty. You may be stuck in that group of idiot puggers. Sure, someone may be acting like an ass. Does imitating that behavior make us so much better? In-Character Is Not an Excuse What does any of this have to do with Role Play? It has quite a bit actually. You see I can’t tell you the number of times I have witnessed someone using role play as another wall to be cruel. One more excuse to hide behind. Not only are you anonymous behind a computer, you have yet a second face to use as a shield. One that is imaginary. I have seen “characters” mob another one with hate filled comments carrying on for days to the point where the receiving player is so hurt and upset they lash out, hide, quit or engage in defensive behavior. Then the phrase “Oh it was IC hate” is flippantly tossed out as if that makes it all better. I, myself, have been the target of in-game hate mail thinly disguised as role-play from not only an anonymous player but character as well. Insults bordering on OOC or some of them blatantly OOC meant precisely to be cruel and cause damage. Hidden behind an excuse of “but it’s in character”. IC anger/hate/maliciousness/cruelty should be understood and explained before ever beginning. If it happens spontaneously out of the blue, communicate with the other person and make sure it’s okay. Discuss it and maybe come up with a fun plot, rather than one person feeling abused. If IC hate/anger/drama starts to hurt the player, they need to speak up reasonably about it and the other party needs to be willing to drop it and move on to something else. Period. (Zydrate’s Note: I actually like to chime in after a heated IC argument. I like whispering the person with something along the lines of "That was fun! " to make sure that the other player knows that there is no ill will. This usually opens up a bridge, "Oh, okay. They're civil, I can arrange something with them at a later time". Because there is part of our brains that if there's absolutely no OOC contact, we will attribute the character with the player. It's wrong, but it's a natural occurrence.) The moment a player expresses that a role play behavior directed at them is bothering them out of character, the other person needs to stop and the players need to consult. Maybe a compromise can be found, maybe the characters just need to not be in the same stories or they need to pretend the other doesn’t exist. Either way, it cannot be allowed to continue. The player’s needs always outweigh the role-play. Don’t think that someone is being too sensitive because one character abusing their character bothers them. Our characters are extensions of some part of ourselves. Whether the character is the law abiding paladin, the pocket-picking rogue, the puppy-sacrificing cultist, they are the creations of the player. They are that player’s work. When creating a character for role play or writing we always put a bit of our heart, our soul into that character. Without it we could not make that character seem real. However even that tiny little piece of ourselves that we build into each character can cause pain and we need to be aware of that. Courtesy is not so difficult. If you want to interact with someone’s character, especially in a negative way, it is basic courtesy to communicate with them. Especially if it seems feelings might be getting hurt in the interaction. Whether in role play, in groups, on the forums or in chat, it is important to break down that wall. Don’t use the Great Wall of Anonymity as an excuse to be an ass. Courtesy is not so difficult. Kindness goes a very very long way. One tiny bit of kindness could improve a person’s day one hundred fold, prevent weeks of drama, and does it really cost so much to spare? It doesn’t take very long to examine what you type before you do so. Let’s put faces back on the person we communicate with. Hi. I’m Zydrate. It’s a pleasure to meet you and I hope we can be friends. I will be kind to you even if I feel you are not kind to me because I know on the other side of that screen, we are not so different.

How to Have Living, Breathing Emotions Now this is a section that I thought up entirely on my own. You may even notice it has a different writing style, as I'm told I have a "conversational" tone, informed by my several years of blogging experience. So this piece will be entirely original. This has been bouncing around in my head for some time, and is something I've struggled with when I interact in WoW-RP. This new guide is just as much for me as it is for all of you. Employ the Senses Earlier in this guide, we read about using three of the five senses when it comes to character creation and description. This continues to apply in every day custom emotes. When approaching an unfamiliar face, you need to give them a sense of who your character is. Tell them what they might see. Is their armor clean? Are they wounded? What quality of weapons might they be carrying? Do they look out of breath? In WoW, there are complete AddOns that help mitigate some of this but in Conan Exiles, we must lay a little bit of groundwork for our interactions. Throughout conversations, try to pepper in mannerisms. In real life, none of us are stone cold when having conversations. We move our hands, we look around the room, we continue about our business shuffling papers or making sure we're productive while speaking to co-workers. Starting an RP post with a custom emote rather than dialog is the best way to go about this. For example, Livia will tend to clasp her hands when something excited her. Other ways to do this is to show that your character is "shaking with excitement" which illicit a visual of something practically bouncing on their toes about a fun prospect. That's just one idea of many, and will go a long way in helping your character feel more alive in any given interaction. Your character is a person. Act like it! Avoid the Two-Line Curse Understandably in dialog-heavy situations, you want to quickly react to what your partner is saying, especially on heavier topics. That's a fair assessment but it's still not an accurate way to look at it. Tying into the point above, your character should often be emoting properly about anything that is said. A widened eye to signal surprise, that kind of thing. I might be repeating myself here but too often I see emotes out in the world such as; Livia turns the corner and sits upon the stool, thinking and taking a swig of her glass. What does that accomplish? What can other characters do with that information? Who cares? The dreaded one or two liner especially in a fully written custom emote (as opposed to pure dialog) gives nothing for the other characters to work with. Typically, we're also not mind readers. Do not pad your custom emotes with idle thoughts, unless you accompany it with physical tics and cues that may give us a hint to what they may be thinking. Better still, just write those tics and keep the thoughts for yourself, and give the partners their own mini-game to try and suss out what your character is thinking about the situation. Balancing Size and Time Don't get me wrong. Seeing paragraph-full posts are often times a joy, and have been the primary source of thinking of this post because I want to employ their mastery and help others along. There is however, a double sided issue. On one hand, there's a lot to reply to. Notably, if they have multiple dialog that can branch into multiple reactions and replies. On the other, the effort the player puts in their posts can easily sap time. Taking several minutes to type of fifteen lines kills a lot of time, and we all have places to be eventually. Some need their sleep, some need to get to work, or sometimes there's several people involved in the interaction and the conversation has the chance to completely derail if someone has to reply to something said several posts and minutes ago by a character that apparently went into a small coma for the time it took for them to type it all out. See what I mean? Again, it is always a mixed blessing. Sometimes great posts like these make people feel inadequate as a writer and roleplayer. Instead of feeling sorry for yourself, use this information. Borrow their style. Pick it apart, figure out what makes it so great, and eventually employ it into your own writing. I've met several great writers that have pushed me to be a better custom-emoter. Whether I have or not, time will tell. Hopefully, I just want to help pass it along and help everyone emote better. In a way, we're all actors here. We take on a role and we write it out. I just hope this tidbit helps.

[scripturehomosexuality]

This Blog’s Guide to Male-Male Sex Without Anal

To aid men who read their sites, the g0ys and the Man2Man Alliance have created guides to help men experience same-sex activity. These guides have plenty of good information in them, and have helped many men including me. However, I thought that there were some blind spots in both of these. So this blog has decided to make its own guide.

This is meant primarily for “straight” guys who want to explore their same-sex attraction. However, LGBT-identified guys who are tired of the “gay” world (or are repulsed by it) are also invited to read along.

Again, this is meant to supplement the guides provided by the g0ys and the Man2Man Alliance. With all three of these guides, I’m sure that you will be unstoppable.

Please note in this page, the phrase “male-male sex” doesn’t refer exclusively to anal. It refers to any and every sexual activity possible between men - mutual masturbation, frot, anal, oral, intercrural sex, 69ing, etc.

If you’re trying to trick a guy into doing anal, THIS GUIDE IS NOT FOR YOU.

If you’re going to use this information to help convince a guy that they’re “gay”, THIS GUIDE IS NOT FOR YOU.

If you’re interested in neither, read on.

Do Your Homework

In writing this guide, I’m assuming that you read most of the articles linked in the page “For ‘Straight’ People (but not exclusively). If you didn’t, I strongly recommend that you go back to the page, some of the articles attached, then come back. At minimum, I recommend three articles from the blog, three from the g0ys, and three from the Man2Man Alliance. If you’re Christian, I also recommend reading the first six articles in the “Scriptural Commentaries” page.

In saying this, it might seem like I’m spoiling your fun. There is a reason why I’m asking you to do so much reading.

In having male-male sex, you will be coming toe-to-toe with the power of modern sexual philosophy. It is a convoluted and contradictory philosophy, with all kinds of rules and regulations for “straights” and “gays”. It seeks to constantly reinforce itself at every opportunity, and works hard to bring rebels back in line. If it ends up destroying those under its power, it merely shrugs and carries on.

Anything like that requires intelligent and well-calculated resistance. You will need to know what you’re dealing with, and that knowledge can’t be superficial. Those articles will help ready you for the system you’ll be facing. The more the read, the better off you’ll be.

As such, before you take any action, you should probably abandon identifying yourself as “gay” or “straight”. After all, through your actions, you’ll be rebelling against modern sexual philosophy. You can’t rebel against it and use its labels at the same time. Instead, identify just as a Man, a normal and regular Man. That will make things much simpler for you, and will be one of your greatest weapons, as we will discuss later on.

At the same time, realize that you’ll probably know much more than your sexual partners. You’ll know that same-sex activity is natural and normal. They won’t, which will affect how they interpret male-male sex. You will need to be their guiding light to a new conceptualization of sex. You can’t do that if you aren’t prepared to do so.

While we’re on the topic, let’s establish some other ground rules.

Because “gay” porn is so pervasive, and because much of it features anal, that porn might inform your expectations on same-sex activity. Throw all of those away, because they will be useless for this. The content here will explain non-”gay” homoeroticism, which bears little resemblance to “gay” homoeroticism.

“Gay” homoeroticism is focused on results only. It’s driven by the mantra that relationships exist for the sake of sex. It is focused on getting sex by hook or by crook, particularly anal. It’s also focused on getting as much sex as possible, in the shortest time possible. Contacts are made solely on the possibility of speedy sex. For those immersed in “gay” homoeroticism, they establish what they want quickly, and get down to business immediately. Once the deed is done, there’s no perceived obligation to develop the contact into a relationship.

Non-”gay” homoeroticism is entirely different. For that kind of eroticism, sex exists for the sake of relationships. It’s focused on making the journey enjoyable, rather than obsessing over results. It’s much more playful and casual, and doesn’t force things if it doesn’t feel natural. It thrives on spontaneity and fluidity. If two men have sex, the purpose is to bring ultimate closeness to the relationship, and expressing affection in the rawest sense possible. As such, sex is not a guaranteed outcome of these relationships.

That’s not meant to be discouraging. While sex isn’t guaranteed, most guys are attracted to guys on some level. So the odds are overwhelmingly in your favor.

Think of it like tending a field. When you put seeds in the ground, you’re not going to see produce right away. Farming takes patience and effort. It will take time for the seeds to grow, and you can’t stand on the sidelines. You have to pay attention to your crop, constantly watering it and caring for it. It won’t be in vain though. In a short time, you’ll start seeing buds sprout up. Those buds will soon turn into shoots, and before long, full produce will abound all over the field.

The point is, like farming, non-”gay” homoeroticism takes time and effort. Because sex happens in the context of relationships, you’ll have to take time to develop them. Plus, there’s no way to predict how long the process will take. It could take a few days or a few months, depending on the circumstances and the people involved. However, if you put in the effort, you’ll see some measure of results.

Lay The Groundwork

This first point is important. If you’re looking for a friend to get close to, you might think of exploring the “gay” world and community. I don’t recommend that. If you do so, be very careful. It’s not necessarily because of the people in there, as much as the underlying culture.

Remember what I said before. In “gay” homoeroticism, relationships exist for the sake of sex. Additionally, as far as the “gay” world is concerned, only anal sex is real sex. If you’re looking for a stable relationship without anal, you probably aren’t going to find it there.

There are LGBT-identified men who don’t conform to “gay” culture, and who might completely avoid anal, but they might also be few and far between. Furthermore, as long as they exist in the “gay” world, its culture will always exert some influence on them. Even if you find a “gay” man who initially doesn’t do anal, voices in that world will cajole him to do it, and those voices might win out.

I’m not saying to avoid LGBT-identified men completely. Again, I’m saying to be careful, and be discerning. If you find a “gay” man who isn’t interested in anal, you’ll have a double challenge. Not only must you teach him that same-sex activity is natural and normal, you’ll have to get him away from “gay” culture and its obsession with anal. Be prepared for that.

Otherwise, you can look among whatever “straight” friends you have. They’ll be better able to meet you where you are. I realize that such a suggestion seems crazy. In that case, remember what this blog said before - that at least 50% of people carry same-sex attraction inside them. This means that every other man you meet can experience same-sex attraction, and that’s a conservative estimate.

Thus, looking for a homoerotic friendship doesn’t require an expedition. It’s more like looking through your own backyard.

The thing is, “straight” guys usually don’t make it obvious if another guy strikes their fancy. They don’t act like some “gay” guys who practically announce their interest. That’s partially because they don’t want to be labelled “gay”, with all the stereotypes that come with it. However, that’s also because of the relationship’s nature - it’s a friendship that grows more intimate (and more erotic) with time.

So whether with existing or future “straight” friends, carry on those friendships as you otherwise would. Go out with them, talk with them, exercise with them, play games with them and so forth. Visit each other’s homes, discover your friend’s likes and dislikes, and go on adventures together. It’s during these times that your friends will signal if they want to get closer, and where you can signal the same.

For beginners, here’s a handy way to signal interest while weeding out your pool of sexual partners. This comes from the G0ydar article, but I’m repeating it here because it’s effective. In normal conversation, make it clear that anal turns you off. You don’t need to mention it in terms of “gays”, because their community and anal are so welded together, most people will make that connection on their own. You also don’t need to make a big deal of it, but instead just casually mention your opinions. Say something like “I love my friends too, but it doesn’t mean I want to enter him”, or “I can’t see how anyone would want to play with someone’s butt...too filthy for me”, or anything that puts anal play in a critical light.

Two things will happen. Guys who also dislike anal (whether “straight” or “gay”) will make a mental note of that and will relax in your presence, or might even seek out your company. They’ll know that if they end up getting close to you, nobody will get penetrated. At the same time, “gays” who adore anal will take your remarks personally and will keep their distance from you.

If that seems confusing, know that most guys aren’t firmly opposed to getting close to another guy. They’re opposed to the spectre of anal in same-sex activity. Because anal is so associated with same-sex intimacy, they prefer skipping that intimacy completely. Meanwhile, anal is one of the most sacrosanct topics in the “gay” community. Even a mildly critical remark will make some “gays” go ballistic.

However, if you’re looking for “straight” guys to respond “I want you now”, you’ll probably be disappointed. Signs of attraction are more subtle than the brazen displays common in “gay” homoeroticism. You just need to pay attention, and to tune up your powers of observation. If you know what to look for, it won’t be hard to see who wants to get sexual.

Touch is one of the strongest indicators of attraction. When a guy feels comfortable enough with another guy, he won’t limit the contact to chatter. If a guy touches you at times that are unnecessary - like when you’re just talking - it’s definitely a sign of friendliness. If those touches become noticeably frequent, consider the possibility that he’s interested. If those touches become longer in duration, or become varied in location, the probability rises that he’s interested in more.

Horseplay is another indicator of attraction. Guys usually rough play with guys they really like as friends. They often do so with guys they’re familiar with, though that’s not always the case. As the Man2Man Alliance aptly put it, attraction feeds healthy male aggression, and vice-versa. It’s an innocent pretext for prolonged physical contact while learning each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Pay attention if the horseplay becomes regular. It’s definitely a sign of attraction, and might signal that he wants to fool around in other contexts.

Exhibitionism also signals attraction. I’m not necessarily talking about stripping completely naked in front of you. I’m speaking of more subtle forms. For example, if the opportunity arises, he might take off his shirt in your presence. Or he might talk about his latest exploits at the gym, and show off the latest body parts he worked on. Or he might find some reason to lift up his shirt and expose his abs. Or as a joke, he might flash his penis or butt at you. Through these actions, he’s trying to make you notice his body. If these are frequent occurrences, it’s a pretty good indicator that he’d like to show you more, much more.

As it turns out, sex talk could be a sign of attraction in itself. That would include discussing masturbation habits, descriptions of one’s sexual experiences with girls, or trading sexual fantasies. It’s a blatant expression of one’s horniness, and that he’d like to share some of that with you. If that talk becomes frequent, or if physical contact is made during it, he might want sex to be more than a conversation topic.

If you’re interested too, feel free to reciprocate as you see fit. If a guy touches your shoulder while talking with you, respond by touching his arm sometime later. If he playfully tackles you one day, do the same thing to him on another day. If he shows you how he worked on his arms, talk along similar lines (if you work out too). If he takes off his shirt around you, maybe do the same thing sometime later. Be sure to be subtle too, and your friend will get the message loud and clear.

Of course, these are only a few signs, and there are more that aren’t mentioned here. Sometimes, it might not be any kind of sign. It might just be a sexual “vibe” you perceive from a guy, and if you do discern one, it’s probably accurate. Plus, while all these are likely signs of sexual interest, it’s up to you to tell if those really are sexual signals. Just exercise your powers of perception, and as you use them more, they will guide the way.

Lastly, you might feel that all of these sound like everyday male behaviors. Indeed they are normal male behaviors, and that’s the point. I’m not identifying them so guys can start curbing them. Instead, I’m showing how natural same-sex attraction really is. Because it’s natural, it’s impossible to completely eliminate, and it will find some way to express itself. Whether observers realize it or not, guys may often express their same-sex attraction through these behaviors. As such, while this isn’t always the case, these actions can be the first steps to sexual interaction. When same-sex attraction is impossible to suppress, there’s no logical reason to restrain it so strongly.

Continuing to Up The Ante

When you perceive that another guy likes you, you probably won’t be satisfied with leaving it at that. You’ll want to capitalize on it, and develop it into actual sex. The aim is to steadily develop the intimacy of the relationship, so that sex becomes a natural outcome. How you proceed depends on the guy involved, and the circumstances you’re working under.

Guys might differ on the method of escalation. For example, there are some guys who they will engage in explicitly sexual escalation. In this case, it’s perfectly clear to both friends what they’re heading for. Your friend might respond quickly to physical contact, and that response would be unambiguous expressions of affection (hugs, caresses, groping, kissing). As time goes by, you’ll feel more comfortable expressing your affection more openly. As a result, the inevitability of sex becomes ever clearer. It would be hard to disguise the behavior as anything but sexual.

Meanwhile, other guys prefer less obvious ways. They prefer having sex with guys “accidentally on purpose”. As such, they increasingly express their affection for you while doing these activities. Sex happens within this context, where while those activities generate genuine fun, they are also thinly disguised conduits for eroticism.

For example, two guys might sleepover one night, and both strip down because they say that they sleep naked. While feigning sleep in bed, wandering hands might lead to each other’s penises, and a mutual masturbation session begins. Or two guys might wrestle, and because it makes them hot, both might progressively strip to their underwear or total nudity. In that case, penises might end up enmeshed against each other, and a frot session begins.

Guys might also differ in how much they participate in the escalation. Both friends might equally participate in it. With them, the escalation becomes mutual, where both engage in a “tit for tat” exchange. One might take off his shoes, while the other takes off his socks. Another takes off his pants, while the other takes his shirt. One might massage a guy’s back, and the other reciprocates by massaging his upper legs. In that case, you don’t have to do that much, because you two are both doing the work.

Other guys might be more passive. Blatantly seeking same-sex intimacy might be too “gay” for them to do. That doesn’t mean that they don’t want sex as badly as you do, because they probably do. In fact, they might blatantly signal that they’re into you. It’s just that, given the rules of cultural masculinity, they can’t see how they can openly seek same-sex intimacy and keep their dignity. However, they also don’t rule out receiving affections from another guy, or being led by him into potentially sexual situations. While he might not want to take the lead, he’ll be more than willing to follow.

As a result, he’ll rely on you to take the driver’s seat, and be the one who moves the escalation forward. You’ll have to be the one who comes with ideas, and the one to make the first move. He’ll likely put up some resistance for the sake of appearances, then quickly relent and follow your lead.

For example, at that same sleepover, you might ask if you can sleep naked on his bed, because that’s what you’re used to. Your friend might raise some concerns, but ultimately let you do it. A few minutes later, he might quietly do the same thing. Or during wrestling, you might decide to take off some clothes, while your friend decides to keep his on. A few minutes later, he might take off some clothes too, and match your state of undress.

As you can see, there is no uniform approach to escalation. It completely depends on who your friend is. You’ll need to be nimble, adaptable, and discerning. You’ll need to perceive your friend’s positions, and read whatever signs that they give you. You’ll know how to proceed from there.

As such, there are many activities that help facilitate escalation of intimacy. To me, communal nudity is among the best. Nudity creates a deep bond that can be developed into a sexual one. Plus, if you and your friends are comfortable being naked in one setting, it’s much easier to be naked in others. Most of all, if you or your friend want to get sexual, there won’t be much clothing around to stop you.

Thus, if you and your friend happen to use a communal shower room, feel free to use it naked. If the shower room has curtains, keep the curtains open, and talk with your friend in his stall while naked. If you feel up to it, you can walk up to his stall and talk to him while nude. While in the locker room, freely talk with your friend while naked, even facing him while doing so. He might not join you in being naked the first time, or even the first few times. However, when he sees that you don’t care about being naked, soon he might not care either.

If you want to do sexual stuff in that shower, make sure it won’t cause problems. A few decades ago, guys could jerk and suck each other off in a communal shower without much complaint. That’s simply not the case now, so you’ll have to be perceptive. In some showers, you can do stuff and not get caught. In others you might get caught, but nobody would care because anal isn’t involved. In yet others, you might get caught and be charged with indecency. It entirely depends on the attitudes in the establishment, and it’ll be up to you to figure out what to do. Just make sure your fun doesn’t earn you a rap sheet.

Plus, communal nudity doesn’t need to be limited to locker rooms. If you’re alone with your friend at his house, see if you can strip down your underwear or completely nothing. If he’s at your house, just hang around in your underwear, and in the future, test wearing absolutely nothing. As usual, they might not join you, and may even raise concerns. Soon however, they may relax about seeing you naked, and may let you see them naked too.

Wrestling is also a good way to simultaneously have fun and get closer. It allows heavy physical contact while testing each other’s strength. The physical contact creates a bond that’s hard to break. Plus, since it involves heavy exertion, clothes will have to come off. As layer after layer is taken off, you’ll end up wrestling in your underwear. If your friend feels close enough to you, you might end it up doing it naked. If your friend is turned on by the wrestling, a telltale erection will definitely emerge. Make it clear that the erection hasn’t escaped your notice, though in a joking way so you don’t embarrass him. Then, the door is open to mutual masturbation, frot, or other stuff.

Massage is another way to up the ante. If it’s done in a tone of mutual respect, guys usually won’t mind getting a massage from another guy. In fact, the friend might actually appreciate the favor. It signals that he trusts you enough not to hurt him. Furthermore, because of its nature, clothing will have to be removed. So as you move from area to area, ask to remove clothing that will get in your way, and he’ll comply. Eventually, he only have underwear on, and if he trusts you enough, he’ll let you massage him completely naked. He’ll inevitably get erect, at which point you can offer to jerk him off and relieve his tension.

As a way to break the ice, watching porn together is another activity that can lead to sex. One day, get a laptop and an isolated space, and turn on porn that both of you will like. Because it’s porn, both of you will get aroused. Say that the porn makes you want to jerk off (because it’s true), drop your pants and begin masturbating. He’s going to be horny too, so he’ll do the same thing either immediately or a few minutes after you. Then, see if you can trade hands, where he jerks you off and vice versa. Then the porn will become mere background noise to the main event happening between you. Next time, you might not even need porn to do it all over again.

You may or may not have noticed a running theme. All the activities mentioned involve some kind of undress. That should show you what other activities can escalate the sexual tension, because these certainly aren’t the only possible ones. Really, any activity that combines two or more of these elements,

Involves physical contact, preferably heavy contact

Requires some kind of undressing

Creates an uninhibited atmosphere

can make the bonds of friendships deeper, and bring them closer to sexual expression. It could lead directly to sex, or be a strong prelude to more private events later on. It could be a game of shirtless water tag, or a game of strip poker. It could be as simple as a round of Truth or Dare. Be creative and spontaneous. When opportunity comes knocking, open the door with all gusto.

The Risk of Upping the Ante

Now, there is something that must be said. None of these behaviors come without risk. All of them may make people try to label you “gay”. It could be observers doing so, trading rumors among themselves that you’re deeply closeted. If they’re religious or gay-identified, they might loudly insist that your actions are “gay”, and angrily demand that you identify as such. Because of this risk, you might restrain yourself from doing things you want to do. You simply fear giving anyone a reason to call you “gay”.

To be honest, there’s nothing you can do to stop that from happening. It’s simply the world we live in, where ever more things are interpreted as signs of being “gay”. Since it’s impossible to avoid, you just can’t care about that possibility. Don’t fear it either, because fear gives that accusation power it doesn’t deserve. Instead, focus on how you’ll respond to the suggestion. Your answer will determine how that accusation will affect your self-image, your overall quality of life, and how your peers view you.

When someone accuses you of being “gay”, flatly and calmly deny it because you’re not. You’re not lying. Remember what was recommended earlier - that before you started down this journey, you should abandon identifying as “gay” or “straight”. Instead, you should simply identify as a Man. So when you say that you’re not “gay”, your statement is 100% true. Keep in mind that those labels represent identities and not sexualities. Identities can be assumed or rejected at will. So for that accusation to be true, you have to agree with it first.

Plus, by denying that you’re “gay/LGBT/queer”, you’re not denying that you’re into guys (too). Make that clear in your answer . As far as you’re concerned, your attractions are not the issue, because you already know you’re into guys (too). Instead, the issue is that an unwanted identity is being imposed on you. It’s an identity that ties in with “gay” culture - drag, imitation of opposite gender mannerisms, anal - that you have no interest in. In fact, it’s an identity that totally pivots on anal, which you can’t stand. Most of all, it reinforces the notion that same-sex activity is abnormal and aberrant, which you know isn’t true.

When you disagree with it so much, why should you voluntarily take on that identity? In truth, you don’t even need those labels to define yourself. You can do that perfectly well without them.

If they insist that you should call yourself “gay”, ask them to explain the word’s many inconsistencies, like

Its contradictory meanings

How, if the word only refers to sex, a “gay” man can be validly called “straight” acting

How mutual masturbation, oral and frot are “gay” sex, but only anal is real “gay” sex

If “gay” only refers to sex, why swimming, musicals, and pop music (which are nonsexual phenonema) can be validly labelled “gay” even by the “gays”

Given all of these contradictions, how can the word “gay” only refer to sex? If it doesn’t, why should you base your identity on it? I guarantee that they won’t be able to give a good answer.

At some point, your accusers will see that they’re losing, and will give up for the time being. They probably won’t give up though, and may try again in the near future. In that case, stand your ground and stick to your guns. You are asserting who you truly are, and you don’t need their labels to do it. People around you will have to recognize that you are unique. The “gays” and the religious will have to admit, albeit begrudgingly, that you’re different.

Through such concerted action, you’ll be doing many things. First, you’ll be challenging the dominance of modern sexual philosophy. It is a very jealous system, insisting that people see sex through its own lens. Thus, most people spend their lives trying to shoehorn themselves into being “gay” or “straight”, which both represent obtuse sexual categories.

By adopting neither label, you’ll leave modern sexual philosophy in total confusion. In its mind, a person who isn’t “gay” must be “straight”, and vice-versa, but nobody can be neither. It doesn’t let people realize that there are other ways to conceptualize sex. By identifying only as a Man, you’ll demonstrate that people can validly exist outside of its labeling system and its rules. You’ll show that modern sexual philosophy doesn’t have a monopoly on sex.

Furthermore, you’ll show other guys that the word “gay” need not have power on them. For fear of being labelled “gay”, many men have hemmed themselves into a steadily shrinking box. They have driven themselves into utter misery as they ran away from wearing briefs, shunned supposedly “gay” sports, and avoided musicals like the plague. They felt like they had no choice, since they couldn’t see how any man could successfully deny being “gay”, yet openly love men or those activities. Through your example, they will see that it can be done, and that they can do it too.

Even while you’re making your friendship more intimate, a friend might suggest that the activities are somewhat “gay”. In that case, truthfully say that you’re not “gay”, and that you’re just doing what you enjoy as a Man. Or just pay it no attention, because after all, they’re involved in the supposedly “gay” activity too. When they get an erection from all the fun, call it out in jest. Say something like, “You're calling me ‘gay’ but you're the guy with the stiffy? The pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?” They won’t be able to respond to that, at least not effectively.

Again, these are guidelines to help you. In your own life, you might find additional methods to fight the accusation of being “gay”. To do that however, you’ll need to know modern sexual philosophy inside and out. That’s why I said that you should read the “For ‘Straight’ People” page. That will give you links to see what makes the philosophy tick.

How to Have Sex With A Guy and Not Get An STD

So the escalation worked, and it seems that you and your friend will end up having sex. Most guys avoid it because they think all male-male sex is disease ridden. In truth, it’s relatively easy to lower STD risk to miniscule levels. These are simple rules that will take the risk down to almost zero.

Totally avoid anything anal. Despite anything that the “gay” leadership preaches, the anus is not a vagina. It never has been, and it never will be. Thus, there’s absolutely no reason for you to shove your penis up your friend’s butt, or vice-versa.

However, avoidance isn’t limited to anal penetration. You should also avoid any anal-oral contact (like rimming), and anal-digital contact (like fingering or fisting). The anus isn’t a vagina, so it wouldn’t make sense to do those actions anyway.

Here’s the dirty little secret of the “gay” community: most of its diseases are spread through anal play. It’s what helped drive the rapid spread of AIDS during the 1980s and 1990s. It’s probably what drove in the jump in STD infection during 2016. As such, condoms have virtually no effect on stopping STD transmission. There’s nothing to gain from playing in your friend’s anus, or him playing in yours.

By avoiding anal play, you’ve already cut down STD risk by a lot. With other forms of sex, it’s harder to spread an STD or receive one. Through that one simple action, you’ve made one large step in preserving your health and that of your friend.

Be careful with oral. Make no mistake: oral sex doesn’t come close to anal in terms of risk. However, it does have risks that can’t be discounted. This blog isn’t saying that you should avoid oral sex. Instead, it’s saying to exercise care in deciding when to do it and how.

A few decades ago, oral wouldn’t have been as risky, because there weren’t as many STDs in circulation. Those that existed were much more treatable and harder to catch. So guys received and gave oral as they pleased, and sometimes as the first sexual act done between partners. That was the case with this guy in the 1970s American South, as well as this man in a 1970s YMCA.

Unfortunately times have changed, and oral can transmit quite a few STDs. There are cases of HIV that have been spread through oral. HPV can be spread rather easily through oral, which can cause oral cancer. It can also spread syphilis, chlamydia, and gonorrhea.

If you and your buddy are having sex for the first time, I wouldn’t recommend doing oral. You’d need to know that your friend isn’t carrying something that will harm you. Good communication is vital to facilitate oral. Ask in a way that preserves his dignity. This is a good example (taken from the g0y website): "Because I'm into dick2dick, it really isn't a big issue; --But have you had STI's or anything in the past or are still being treated -- that we might want to wait to clear up before doing more than some rod-rubbing & ball-bonding?"

Keep this in mind - if your partner doesn’t have a disease, you won’t get one either. You can’t catch what your partner doesn’t have. This is why I recommended dealing with “straight” guys, because they’re less likely to carry an STD. Since a change in quantity means a change in quality, “gays” are more likely to carry STDs, because they’re encouraged to be more promiscuous.

Furthermore, don’t be selfish. If you have an STD, let your friend know. This has to go both ways. If you can’t trust each other to be honest when it counts, you’ll be endangering your relationship. Do you want to live knowing that you infected your friend?

Plus, even if STDs aren’t a concern, that doesn’t mean the coast is clear. Even as guys go through their day, guys sweat in their crotches. As the Man2Man Alliance explains, “some dysentaries can be transmitted through eggs borne in sweat -- and the eggs go wherever the sweat goes.” It explains further, “For example: you're with a guy who's sweating, the sweat runs down his ass crack and picks up whatever fecal matter is on the exterior of his anus, and gets on his balls.” If he scratches his crotch, as most guys do, that can easily transfer to his penis.

Thus, I’d recommend doing a blowjob at a specific time - during or after your friend swims, showers, and bathes in a Jacuzzi. The running water will cleanse the penis, which reasonably ensures that the skin isn’t carrying anything unpleasant. A document from the website “Straight Talk for Boys About Sex with Males” puts it best: “there is no real difference between having a finger or a penis in your mouth, if both have been freshly washed...The penis itself has no taste unless it is not clean.” While its advice on anal is highly questionable, its information on other sex acts is mostly accurate.

For more vital information on fellatio, please see this page from the g0y website, and read the subtitle “Fellatio”.

Remember that sex exists for the sake of relationships. I realize that I already said that, but I’m repeating it for a reason. This phrase will help cancel out any remaining STD risk in your sexual behavior.

Outside of anal and oral, other forms of male-male contact are quite low risk. If the anus or mouth isn’t involved in sex, semen will land on skin. If there’s no open wound, skin is an excellent barrier against most diseases.

Note however that I didn’t say no risk. Take frot as an example. Though the probability of infection is very low, frot can theoretically transmit pubic lice and genital herpes. Thus, it’s worth noting this quote from the Man2Man Alliance: “If Men into Frot become as promiscuous as males into anal have been, Frot will lose its innocence and joy and become yet another vector for STDs.”

In the “gay” world, a “gay” man might have sex with several men in one night. If two “gays” hook up for sex, they may otherwise be strangers. They might have hooked up just because they liked each other’s looks. As such, they had no relationship before sex, and may feel no obligation to establish one afterward. After sex is over, they may wipe each other out of their minds, and move on to the next conquest. That may happen several times in one night. In such an environment, even low-risk sex can be a conduit for STDs.

That’s why the above phrase is so important. Because of it, you’ll realize that sex isn’t the priority. Instead, relationships must take first place. Sex is what brings those relationships to their highest potential.

That mantra will make such promiscuity less likely. Since relationships are the focus, you’ll be more judicious about who you get sexual with. You’ll think more about who you have sex with. As a result, even if you have sex with more than one guy, your activity won’t approach the levels reached in the “gay” community. This assures that low-risk methods will remain low-risk.

What To Do During Afterglow

So you and your friend end up having sex. It might have been after an hot frot session, a good handjob, or some mutual masturbation. In the afterglow of the climax, you can’t just say nothing about it and leave. At this point, your friend will need you more than ever.

Remember the ironclad grip that modern sexual philosophy has over millions. Remember that its central message is that same-sex activity is inherently abnormal. Up until that point, that philosophy might have an ironclad grip on your friend. So after the pleasure fades away, his head might fill with fear. He’s just done the unthinkable - he just had sex with another man. In the world of modern sexual philosophy, he can no longer call himself a legitimate male. He must either repudiate the desires he’s just uncovered, or else identify as “gay” (aka “abnormal”) from then on.

If he’s Christian, he might believe that he’s just committed a grave sin. He might now believe that he is beyond God’s mercy, and must await his judgement. He might think that he is now an abomination. Under such thoughts, he might even contemplate self-harm or suicide.

You need to reassure him that there’s nothing wrong with him. You need to show him that his urges are normal, natural, and extremely common. You need to show him that his urges for men (too) don’t impugn on his masculinity. You need to show him that his urges don’t necessitate immersion into “gay” culture, or experimentation with anal. You need to show him that God doesn’t care how much he likes men (too).

Thus, you need to show him some of what you’ve seen. Show him some of the contents of this blog, particularly the Scriptural Commentaries. Show him some of the pages from the g0y website. Show him some of the content of the Man2Man Alliance, especially those showing that sex between men is simply an activity that men do. Then, when he gets the point, watch as internal relief sweeps through your friend.

For pointers, look at this story and this story from this humongous catalogue of g0y stories. They do a great job of showing how you can educate your friends. And continue seeing each other after that. You two might become each other’s support, and together you might help other men become free to pursue their own desires for men.

You two had sex because you like each other a lot. In another world, you two could do it without much afterthought. But given the power of modern sexual philosophy, that’s simply impossible right now. Through sex, you have to save others from becoming condemned in their own minds. It’s part of the altruism that natural same-sex activity helps support.

Conclusion

As you might have gathered, this guide doesn’t exist just to improve your seduction skills. Instead, it introduces a different way of life. It exposes a world where same-sex activity is just as valid as opposite-sex contact. The sex model it promotes inculcates a different mindset and outlook in those who follow it. It is one where masculinity is not a monolith, where sex exists for the sake for relationships, and where same-sex bonds are viewed as sacred.

In many ways, the values of this sex model run counter to those which dominate today. This is not to be taken lightly. Instead, it shows why it is suppressed so much. It also shows why it must be fought for. It promotes valuable principles - community, fraternity, equality - which we need so badly today.

I hope that this guide strengthens you. I hope that it is one that you will consider valuable. Most of all, I hope it is one that you will use to the full.

Thanks for reading.

[aplaceforthesoul]

Anonymous submitted:

I often feel like i am mentally stuck between two immovable emotional objects, ending my life seems to feel like the only rational option despite cognitively being able to understand that is a permanent solution to a temporary emotional state of mind. I feel really lost in life. Perhaps to provide some context, i’m very close to the age of the admins of this blog.

I don’t feel like i really deserve to be so self-loathing or upset constantly; I was born healthy to a stable family situation and live in an industrialized nation. But recently those negative thoughts have gotten enti strong. I feel like crying often for no reason whatsoever

I have diagnosed issues with anxiety (specifically OCD & full-on panic attacks) social interaction and low moods (not diagnosed). I pretty much failed pre-University school because i thought i was just like that, i was born to fail. What i didn’t realize at the time was that this is when my mental issues were at their worst. As was evident from the fact that i was spending hours of my day consumed by them, thinking this was fine.

I graduated University quite recently (only with a passing grade, mind you; mostly due to ongoing mental-health related issues that were stable in my first year of Uni, commuting certainly did not help. Currently in the adjudication/appeal process). I’m afraid of applying for jobs in my field (a STEM subject), fearing rejection is only going to push me further down into a dysphoric mood. I made a start by applying jobs that aren’t mall jobs for a few the past few days. I don’t expect anything earth shattering soon. I don’t really have any close friends, most of the people i know, all of which are from Uni, are at best casual acquaintances. I’m trying to push myself to build a solid social circle, or i was.

Since i graduated, i haven’t had much contact with the outside world. I have never done anything ever with a girl (i’m a straight guy), i’m not embarrassed by this, just feel like i am completely undesirable to women. I often see girls flirting with other guys, so that feels like a hint to being ugly af. I’m afraid if i do ever get into something with a girl (that’ll be the hell freezes over) i would have no idea what to do and find myself in the middle of an ocean without a paddle. Worrying i’m going to be a complete failure with women who is clingy or controlling or any other undesirable characteristic.

The big sleep feels a lot more tempting to me recently. Sorry for the wall of text, i don’t have anyone else to talk to atm.

depression, anxiety and other mental health issues can affect anyone, of any age, at any time. you only need to look towards people like chester bennington (linkin park), robin williams, and michael jackson to see proof of that. no matter how successful you could be, no matter how happy people think you should be? you can still develop a mental illness, it doesn’t discriminate. 

it’s weird how much of an oxymoron it is, but it really does make some sense that you feel it’s rational to end your life yet knowing at the same time how irrational it is. I get the impression that your thoughts + feelings are suicidal ideation, that you don’t have a direct and immediate impulse to kill yourself? but for the sake of caution -- if you do feel like you’re at risk to yourself or you feel an urge to do something dangerous and life-threatening? please please please contact friends and family, emergency services, anyone at all. you deserve to be helped, you deserve to live. 

I’m not a professional, I can’t say with certainty what’s causing this current self loathing and upset state of being? which makes it really hard to suggest solutions! ): maybe it’s rooted in fear and insecurity at not finding intimacy and acceptance in a romantic relationship, maybe it’s stemming from anxiety and a lack of friends and feeling disconnected and isolated, maybe it’s due to biological reasons (such as low serotonin / dopamine) and the overall lack of confidence and low self esteem is just exacerbating that? I’m really not too sure. 

my best advice would be to seek help from someone who’s a professional, someone who’s trained and qualified in mental health. you mentioned being diagnosed with anxiety (panic attacks and OCD), so I’m guessing you’ve gotten help at some point? but if you’re unsure at the moment of how to go about chatting to someone professional, then this post could help (▰˘◡˘▰)

in addition to potentially working towards getting help? try to avoid isolating yourself whenever you can, get back to encouraging yourself to build a more solid network of friends. it can be so hard -- especially when you’re fighting against anxiety, possible panic attacks, and the very nature of depression where it draws you into darkness? and there are going to be some days where you just feel like shit and you have no energy to socialise, that’s alright too. but fight whenever you can against the impulse to spend time by yourself, spend time with friends, take it one day at a time. it’s important to have friends, us human beings are social creatures!! and by nature we thrive on social interaction and social contact, we need some friends in our lives to survive and to feel loved and cared for. right now you feel isolated and disconnected and lonely? so to combat that, slowly integrate yourself back into social interactions and meet-ups, have open + genuine conversations with friends that sometime touch on emotional well-being (encourages a friendship to be more authentic and connected), see how things go. good luck friend, keep me updated on how things work out for you xxx

- tash ps I like the name you attached to the submission! love vance joy a lot 😌

[scriptautistic]

Masterpost: On calling characters autistic

Part 1: Whether you should explicitly call your character autistic, and how you should go about it

So, you have created an autistic character. You love them, you know their likes and dislikes and you are determined that this is going to be a positive and realistic portrayal of autism. There's one problem though - how do you let your readers know that the character has ASD?

Actually explicitly calling your character “Autistic” can be awkward. Maybe it’s because you don’t want to interrupt the flow of the story, maybe it’s because you don’t want to risk backlash if people dislike your representation of autism. Maybe “autistic” isn’t a word that exists in the world or time period of your story. So, do you have to say it outright?

There isn't a moral imperative to call your character “autistic”. One of my favourite autistic characters is never called autistic in-universe. But our blog is about encouraging accurate representation of autistic characters, and if you don't actually call them autistic...is it actually representation?

Should I call my character autistic?

Autistic characters in media are very important for several reasons. The media we consume contributes to shaping us and our worldviews. If someone reads books and watch movies which contain complex, realistic autistic characters, they’re more likely to 1) be aware of what autism actually is, and 2) see autistic people as human beings, and treat them as such. These characters are also important to autistic people themselves: seeing characters like yourself portrayed in a positive light can boost your self esteem and help you feel less alone.

If you make a great autistic character and you don’t explicitly call them “autistic”, it’s not guaranteed that everyone will understand that they’re supposed to be autistic. Many people don’t have a very accurate working knowledge of autism, and they might not understand that a character is autistic if they don’t fit their narrow, stereotypical view of what an autistic person looks like. Thus the people that would benefit most from this representation might miss it completely.

Of course, the choice is yours, but we would strongly encourage you to explicitly call your character autistic so that you’re 100% sure your readers will pick up on it. Ideally, this would happen in the work itself, but at the very least we would encourage you to make it explicit when you, the writer, discuss the character (on social media, in interviews, in synopses of your work). Bare in mind that if you don’t say it explicitly within the work, you are very likely to end up with readers who deny that the character is autistic because they don’t behave in ways that match their perception of what autism is - they fall in love, they speak, they don’t behave in exactly the same way as their autistic nephew does. It is preferable for the reader to be able to identify the character as autistic without needing to pay attention to the author’s writing outside of the work itself.

When?

So, it’s decided! You are definitely going to tell the audience that the character is autistic. When is the best time to let them know? Telling the audience does not have to be the first thing you do when you introduce the character - it depends what you want to do with your story.

Here are a few general possibilities:

When the character is introduced - immediately telling the audience that the character is autistic means that the character’s autism will play a big part in the audience’s interpretation of the character. You might choose this option if you feel it is important for the audience to understand the character is autistic. If you are telling a story “about being autistic”, the fact that the character is autistic is very likely to be one that you will want to raise at the start, but even in a story that is not “about” being autistic, knowing your character’s neurotype from the outset can help the audience to interpret their behaviour.

After the character has been established - your character has already been established and you have demonstrated their autistic traits; calling your character autistic at this point is a way of confirming it and making it explicit for anyone who has not realised so far.

A “big” reveal - this isn’t something that I have seen used, but there is the option of “revealing” that your character is autistic later in the story. This could be used a way of subverting the expectations of readers who have stereotypical views of autism (and confirming other readers’ “headcanons”) for characters who have atypical traits. Otherwise, it could be presented as the solution to a “mystery” about the character.

It is brought up several times - you don’t have to only mention the character’s autism once! Their autism might be referred to multiple times during the story.

In the description/summary of your story - This a useful option if the story takes place in a point in history before the diagnosis of “autism” existed. It can also be used to clarify the terms you use for stories set in the future/different worlds. (The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time used this method, only calling the main character autistic on the cover - but you need to make sure that you actually do a decent job inside the book!)

How?

OK, time to actually decide how to tell your audience that the character is autistic. Luckily, there are lots of options!

We are going to list several strategies. There are lots of ways of fitting these into context: try relating what you say to an autistic trait which is affecting your character at that point in the story: are they struggling with executive dysfunction? having fun stimming? looking up information about their special interest?

Here are some ideas of topics related to autism that might provide you with the opportunity to casually drop in the term “autistic”: sensory overload, stimming, executive dysfunction, alexithymia, difficulties with social interactions, problems with communication, special interests, eye contact, meltdowns and shutdowns.

Here are some techniques for telling the audience that the character is autistic. Each suggestion is accompanied by at least one example to illustrate how it can be used:

The narration says “they’re autistic” - it can be slipped in as a sort of “aside” if that feels more natural in your story

“Karen swore loudly. The village church bells had been ringing for 45 minutes and her head felt like it was going to split in two. Of course being autistic didn’t help, but the main problem was the bloody eejit who decided it was a good idea to hold bell practice today of all days.”

“Ming looked down the guest list. Selvie was bringing Cheng Mae as her plus-one. Ming had only met her once: he knew that she was autistic, that she loved Criminal Minds, and that Selvie was trying to take the relationship to the next level, but none of this helped him with choosing what table to put the couple at. He called Helen in from the kitchen to ask what she thought.”

The autistic character says they’re autistic (in dialogue) - either explicitly telling another character, or mentioning in passing

“Sorry I went a bit weird yesterday - I’m autistic and crowds are really overwhelming for me. Can we try again next Saturday? You can come ’round to mine and I’ll cook a romantic dinner”

J: How did you choose your therapist? I’m trying to find one K: She specializes in working with autistic people. My dad helped me find her. J: Oh, is she expensive?

The autistic character says they're autistic (as the first-person point of view narrator) They might mention it as a personal aside, or they may refer to it repeatedly throughout the narrative.

“I hate the store. I have been to every aisle at least twice already, but either two items are in the same aisle but not written next to each other on the list, or I can’t see the item I’m looking for. I know I struggle with finding things directly in front of my face because I’m autistic—my brain just doesn’t process the images my eyes are passing over fast enough—but it’s so annoying. I just wanted to find the cereal my sister likes.”

Refer to (or flashback to) a time in the past when it came up For example, the character could refer to to being in special ed at school, their parents might talk about the character having atypical development (eg. not speaking until a later age than usual), they could refer to the mental health professional who first suggested that they seek out a diagnosis, the character might make a comment comparing something to one of the tests they did while being assessed for autism, there might be a flashback to ABA sessions.

“Hey, Cam, you know that you are allowed to say when you disagree with something, don’t you?” “Yes.” Cam hesitated. “Um... I mean, yes, in theory. But I was taught in social skills that I had to smile and nod when people speak. It’s hard.” “Of course, I forgot. It was more important for them to teach the autistic kid to be compliant than to teach you how to communicate your needs,” he scowled. “Sarcasm,” he added “Thanks. I realised, this time.”

Another character discloses that the character is autistic (note: this is something that is not necessarily an appropriate thing to do in real-life — please don’t go talking about other people’s diagnoses behind their backs unless you know EXPLICITLY that this is ok with them)

“What’s the deal with Zephyr? Is he always such an arse?” Caroline sighed, “listen, Katharina, Zephyr isn’t trying to be rude. He’s autistic, he can’t pick up on your hints that you want to change the subject. Just tell him—nicely—that you want to talk about something else”

Chantelle looked the teacher in the eye, her face resolute. “Please, Mr Clive, Aaron is autistic, and I need to know that the school understands that. Things have been difficult for all of us since the earthquake, but the changes have been really hard for him. We lost our house, we’ve moved to a new area. Can I work with someone from the school’s SEN department to plan his induction?”

Another character mentions it when talking to the autistic character

“You know, when I first heard you were autistic I was expecting something different” “Robyn, this is not the time,” Enri snapped, “let’s fix the ship first, please”

From: K.Litchen To: I.Khan Subject: Favor please! <3

Hey, Ibby, you can definitely say “no” if you want to, but is it ok if I give your email address to my sister? She just found out that my nephew might be autistic and I think it would help her to talk to an autistic adult bc she’s panicking right now. Also, you left your dictaphone at the office on Friday, I can drop it off tonite if you like?

Thanks!!! Kim xxx”

Say it in the blurb/synopsis of your book/comic/film/etc

“17th Century France: The Beast of Gévaudan has been terrorising the area for two years. After two twelve year olds are killed in his village, Pierre, an autistic baker, begins investigating the attacks. He uncovers secrets, lies, and the terrible truth behind La Bèstia — but who will listen to M. Fournier’s oddball son?”

Include information in the background of a panel/scene (for a comic/film) Examples:

A panel shows a letter that is relevant for plot reasons, but you can see part of another letter behind it that references autism

The character goes to visit their therapist and there are posters about autism on the walls

The character wears some sort of autistic pride t-shirt (example 1 and example 2)

This information could also be backed up by (or highlighted in) your dialogue. The prose-based equivalent to having information in the mise-en-scene would be using descriptions of the background.

That’s it for part one!

Next time on On calling characters autistic:

Part 2 - what if autistic isn’t a term that exists in my story? We discuss telling stories that are set in the past, the distant future, and on other worlds

Part 3 - hinting We discuss ways to strongly imply that your character is autistic (techniques that you will ideally combine with explicitly calling them autistic)

[sealingpoolswffr951-blog]

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When developing products for exterior usage, plastic is an efficient material that should be provided significant consideration. Plastics are significantly being made use of to construct greenhouse panels, play grounds, outdoor furniture, and various other structures that were formerly dominated by materials such as wood and also glass. There are several factors for this, yet plastic's light-weight and resilient nature absolutely help in making it an ideal candidate for exterior structures.

The ideal plastic choice for outdoor usage depends on prospective budget constraints, the intended life expectancy, and the needed sturdiness. Plastic is growing in appeal for exterior usage, but it may be difficult for the casual viewer to establish why this is. Simply put, alternate building products can not match the performance as well as convenience that plastics can attain, specifically in the context of outdoor usage.

Gradually, it has largely been replaced by comparable plastic frameworks. This is due to the fact that also with the right chemical treatments, timber is not perfect for outdoor usage. It is still susceptible to rotting, bending, and splintering, all of which can cause injury. Furthermore, it can not be shaped in as several methods as a plastic cantypically, wood can just be formed into stiff, angular arrangements.

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For a lengthy time, glass was the ideal way to make certain light transmission, making it preferred for use in structures such as greenhouses. Unfortunately, glass is incredibly delicate, and also also a weak impact can cause cracks or whole panels of glass to ruin. Not just is glass instead weak, it is also much larger than clear plastic alternatives.

Generally, plastic is the superior selection for outdoor use when compared to other products. While timber rots and splinters in the rainfall, plastics can endure extreme climate conditionseven snow. Too, lots of sort of plastics can resist UV light and also are durable, leak-proof, and also discolor immune. Nevertheless, there are several types of http://www.itumim.co.il plastic you might intend to consider when mounting your exterior application.

Acrylic plastic, specifically in the type of a clear acrylic sheet is quite possibly suited for outside usage. This is because acrylic plastic has terrific weather condition resistance, enabling it to be left outdoors without significantly breaking down. Polymer plastic can receive high degrees of UV light, extreme cold, as well as also saltwater without its structural stability being endangered.

This isn't the only means that acrylic plastic is durable. It resists scratches and also dents much more properly than lots of various other kinds of plastic, maintaining structures in excellent condition for longer. This makes clear acrylic sheets an excellent replacement for glass, as it resists damaging and can sustain the effect of projectiles or dropping materials.

Nevertheless, acrylic isn't optimal for every single circumstance. Vibrantly colored outside structures ought to seek an alternating plastic, because colored acrylic is reliant discolor in direct sunshine. In addition, relying on the application, a stronger or even more warm resistant plastic might be a lot more proper. Polycarbonate plastic was when a particular niche plastic as a result of its expense, and also therefore, was often just utilized readily.

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Polycarbonate is very risk-free as well as has actually also been accepted by the FDA for food-contact applications. It's thirty times stronger than acrylic, but likewise notably much more expensive than acrylic. Polycarbonate plastic is readily available in a vast array of thicknesses and also staminas, providing it to a range of different functions. It is also durable, available in a series of shades, and also can be manufactured with varying degrees of openness.

As a matter of fact, polycarbonate is so strong that it's an usual option for cyclone panels or roof panels. This plastic is additionally frequently utilized as a replacement for glass. Like acrylic plastic, polycarbonate sheets are lightweight, resilient, and also can be produced with high optical quality. Nonetheless, as previously discussed, it is also more influence immune than acrylic.

Actually, polycarbonate plastic will not even start to thaw till 120C, or 248F. HDPE is quite possibly matched for usage outdoors. As a matter of fact, HDPE plastic is the most typically made use of material for play ground devices. This is because the material is really long-lasting, but likewise softer than choices like acrylic or polycarbonate.

While HDPE does not give the same level of effect resistance as polycarbonate, its long lasting construct will certainly sustain a powerful quantity of weight and also has the honesty to outlast lots of various other kinds of plastic. HDPE is likewise simple to build with it can be formed into plastic sheets or boards that can be reduced with typical woodworking tools.

This makes it quick as well as very easy to create play area equipment or exterior furnishings out of HDPE plastic. Like polycarbonate, it is extremely immune to acids, alcohols, and also bases. In addition, it will certainly fend off any graffiti making HDPE popular for usage in public areas. Marine board is a term for HDPE plastics made specifically for marine usage.

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It is extremely reliable at pushing back the adverse results of watereven saltwater. It is likewise very immune to acid, smell, and mold, needing extremely little upkeep to keep optimum high quality. As an outcome, aquatic board is utilized to construct hulls, docks, swimming pool devices, decks, and outdoor kitchen cabinetry. It is simple to machine and thermoform as required, making it a wonderful product for Do It Yourself construction tasks.

For instance, repainted PVC is frequently made use of to develop frameworks like yard secure fencing, trellises, or outdoor furniture. PVC is not inherently UV resistant yet is commonly covered in UV-resistant paint to stop deterioration. Even if unpainted, PVC is generally made use of to offer securing for underground cables that require added defense from the aspects.

UHWM sheets are very immune to abrasion and also influence and can stand a great deal of constant water. It is typically made use of for marine building applications, such as guides or joggers. It is additionally made use of to produce bed liners and fenders for vehicles. Depending on which outdoor framework is being built, it is very probable that plastic will be the finest building product readily available.

For that factor, plastics are an optimal option for outside applications. All set to peruse plastics for your following exterior job? Visit our polycarbonate plastic, acrylic plastic, HDPE plastic, or marine board supplying web page to discover even more concerning the requirements of these plastics. Or, call us to talk to a professional today.

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Rocket To Field

2014 

By Hui Kj

“Am I a…?” No, no, no. If you don’t try and add the color to become the helping form that pushes you forward, to skip over being asked those new, offensive questions that will never understand the strength of your simplicity floating above that sour confidence or anything of that nature of importance, then you will be lost faster than you could recall a closest direction: that is the undeniably, always-happening truth. Memories never die; put them down, groove with them, up and through to get some motivation for what is…

Incoming, incoming!

They are here (to shoot you off).

Oh, broken arrows happen, but what if not? What if you pierce it perfectly?

Please know—because I have seen my share of contacts, snap-offs, and scrape-aways—that all attempts in-between will leave you damp and bickering about your cut-up knees from a fall that included delicate effort and aspiring reach. This means boosts aren’t coming and you need wings, listening one, so please do so well. I am setting up a plan now; it goes something like a chaotic pink.

“Everyone’s a victim” (harsh ways) versus…

“Let me invent myself.” 

There is a lot of talk about these hoorays before there is a lot of getting down and sweating or ducking and checking for eavesdrops or insecurities and hidings or a blatant withhold.

Crawling and remembering, here we go, down and down, here we go into those old (victorious) cheers and dances. This is how we dwindle back toward the depths we first created our way out, without fear to see the original plan. Your pitiful endeavors—they are not your fault, not your creation. The lights that you will hang will look extraordinary, then the dust, then the reinvading, then the comfort to come and go in the dark (positively and always on the mind).

This was before flowers emerged on the hills, those new additions from outsiders sending frenzy hope. When you start thinking about the view from the top, you want to hurry up and be alone with the entireness of it all, gaining the insight you always needed! The wait adds more minutes to the aches. “When can I scatter?” Oh, you soon go, you are elevating up; you are being cheered on, you are coming soon as a wanted birth.

Delicately, fresh-water clean. A bracing out of exhaustion from the final moments of the weight you held up to block this craved world (coming in like a flash), which then slides down your back to squirm away, taking back its original, tiny form.

Is that shade in the distance—up at the hill, right above the flowers—another friendly grim to seek out? You gaze at it and make your way forward with your body, but your head is tracing the way, going toward a polka-dot light in some opposite distance. You make out the shape of a tree (thoughts about safety rush a new record). Lovingly or grimly, you walk for the closest view of the black cloud, marking the important corners of the structure from melancholically far—the black is so wonderfully fascinating. Shoulder sore from turning. That pink light is getting bigger, so dangerous it has you shaking with it being so in peripheral, and knowing your dreams take a long fall when the exiting force closes on you.

A risky invitation, the black cloud—through all of your insides—that is scarcely looked at as indescribably profound. The black cloud was more friendly, yet on its own, shielded with dystopia. The polka-dot tree spawns you back at base when you want it, up in some morning daylight, ready for the night again for another peek. Luck can be a masterpiece—but not most days. Most days, the black cloud would be far too much.

These forms full of energy keep you paving paths, keeping wide eyes. Eventually, your reel of realities keeps your tendencies active and growing. Maybe a local, humble gardener will say, “Look at that, there it is,” talking to you, leaving the black cloud in his peripheral, as he trained himself to do.

The Weight of a Whale, Being Young (Heavy), & Seeing the Travelers

But truly, how are you supposed to know what to do after a slide you spend all day on? Usually no one is around to talk about their review, really just taking it in for themselves over and over, not even a question: It is some epic resolution to your reality.

We have our trees to climb here at home, our food to tend, religious services to muster around, and rules to honor to keep everyone in. The little humans played at a park all made of wood (normal: swings, slides, and some open field), the adolescents went to bed on time after labor (normal: chopping wood, building more, cheering for the village, and choosing it all again), and the elders kept their secrets very closely.

Quite literally, there were swine being offered wine at dinner gatherings, around the fire, my family and their people, who all had their destinies and would describe them like the food. A few—I mean few—purple, static crazies who I knew would hop around their questions as I did for fun. We zapped in some other habitat quite seriously, and there was no reason for explaining these things.

The ones I am with, the ones who went beyond the circle of our village and our trees, are all so majorly going on in a way that has me edging toward the (vastly) unknown realms, that I see them hinting to me with their eyes because they know I am about to, and the way they still do their job here but know there were and are so many spectacles to fall into. Cannot think up a good reason to ever be back here if I walked my legs out; I feel like my legs would just say “No,” and let me run until I was too lost.

-

As natural as thinking the opposite, there are productions of your efforts to scurry off from just all devastations.

All runs seem terrifying when you are working your way out, but they give me so many fantastic thoughts about danger in general. I stabbed “the gardener” on some tree out in the surrounding forests of the land in-between, which was where I slept, ate, and walked around doing what was asked of me. Other members my age thought I was right about wanting to redecorate a young reality, but what I wanted was not an agreement but someone who would come for their own reasons.

My night job at the village was sorting the apples—I knew they were either bad or good —so I just threw the bad ones away and kept what was healthy in the basket. Simple and the task was not minded. We cycled through the laboring, and I loved how nothing indescribable was being destroyed. The land was taken care of, the people were not hungry; we were all doing our part to be the hands that tended to the responsibilities our ancestors had chosen.

This is not about ancestries, this is not about the village where I lived. Yet you must know my beginnings, when there was only one place to run from.

I have wounds from my own endeavors, from coordinates outside our little collection of homes, inside our boundaries of trees and lands that are impossible to stay absurdly profound—to me, and I know to anyone else.

Annoyingly, younglings would run and tell when I was off studying other beats—they start so young, and that is grim. I was forced to cast these desires aside, so I would not ramble when it was my new responsibility to listen and repeat on command without explanations or depictions from your moon thoughts. This option was tried, yet I preferred the cuts and gashes earned out in the thick of what I wanted to submerge in completely.

It seemed like all moral qualities, which are undeniably of importance, were everywhere but where you most sought after all Sisypheans without checkpoints or accolades to show signs of direction or progress. Not that you would want to be anywhere but the life you know, which has been distinctly deep down and made with your own strand of vibrancy, contentment and golden worth. (All locals want you to be a local, to hate or to love—it does not matter.) Those who had raised me, taught me how to function in their language. They whispered to me. And they never wanted to know how I had found out about anything beyond the village. 

I confided in the trees, “You are always out in the open.”

The fire pits out between homes, too (deadly forces that were useful, this was a motivation).

The animals that would run through, being that point B was interesting, had a purpose of their own, too.

I will tell you that the village and its people were in solace and bitterly alone, and it was stable because we had no foreign additions and did not look for them. Spirituality came from the woodwork around us and the casual new kindness. How did new kindness, new functions come about?

It was the travelers…travelers who came randomly over a few years at a time.

This was what I lived for, although our hospitality never included a rested night on a bed.

Village elders said, “North, or where you came from.” They said, “Your trees are the joy.”

So naturally, there were new stories briefly coming in, and I desperately made them my priority.

A Little of How It Went, the Leaving & the Puddle That Shot Me into the 5th Year of Freedom

Regular night-walks, thoughts about freedoms. The sun would be down under, the stars and all would be my preference and at my disposal. What does the green above and next to the brown say now? The grass was getting thick, suddenly, but not in a way that was startling. Well, you see, the rain that poured had me believe there was a new purpose out in the unfamiliar to be found. I was right, but I do not think it was near this time—although, this could not be my routine and that was enough to keep my eyes wide. There were puddles in the woods, and the way my feet walked was in the context of echoes rushing quick—soon—and there will be no flinching, just latching onto. The trees were getting louder (as my beat), the woodwork bending over, the darkness closing above me inside. The earth was at its loudest.

Oh, a single purple puddle in the middle of the woods.

Speeding up (twisting around), there were pale blue streaks of light in the water, resting on earth from the sky.

They kept twirling—just like the trees. Do I go now?

The trees say, “Yes.”

The puddle says, “You must go.”

I say, “The sun is coming.”

My hands cupped the blue inside the purple, throwing it onto my face.

I could feel my body cooling; my imagination was left behind.

Floating forward, I could feel everything.

-

There were boys and girls who would stay up and talk, with their feet dangling off mountains we spent the sunrises climbing and touching. I rode trains that were one-way to ice-lands. Once, me and some others were put in charge of decorating the wing of a castle.

You know, I let very loose. Wherever I was, there was always some local group that would wave me over because my eyes always asked for it.

The comfortability definitely depended. Maybe the men had me painted bathing with the women while we simply talked about waterfalls, or maybe there were no painters and everyone wanted to fall deep into volcanos. Together.

Current Current, Pulling Me Around & Around

Everything is at risk until you get to those locked passages that open up, that depend whether they use a scale or whether they take your words for what they are worth. I cannot help but fill with pity when I watch people ignore warning signs or say there was no prize at the end to begin with.

Oh, you say that danger is not real? If whatever moves, that means the depths are filled with intimidation—reaching out, wanting to show you power.

Some argue to the point and safeness of being loose or tied up; I think they are both of mania. I planned for them both because I had started diving, breaking, squirming, running, dancing, humming, later than most, and had dreamt about it far more often and before time paid it forward for some time now. Never knew how to look out for rocks, yet one rolls and stops regardless.

For instance—in my case—any tree reminded me of home. They always find me. Trust me, they find me.

There was a time and place where they were at ease with their lifelines sitting on the edge next to them without being hooked to anything sturdy. One would know certain citations that were cremated, that create a tendency of scooping up a specific, (dead) interpretation back—way back—into existence, that would be up for examination and absorbent. Feed and be eaten.

There are peripheral sightings and whispers of shapeless, hinted splendors that you probably helped create in the womb. Getting ideas from the infants who passed your genuine bearer while you were equally blocked off, I am sorry to inform you, and I must also include how crucial it is that I be honest with you regardless: for oftentimes carrying out incomparable moments that are meant mean a lot to my health, but I mean to tell you that you create what you lose, and always the follow; you lose what would help all creation. You are going downhill if you are not going up, you know.

The view is so grand, so high at either side of the lifeline.

It is very much natural, a downfall, but if you were to hear a repetition of your own words entering your eardrums, then that must mean you sparked and caught onto yourself without causing an unstoppable field-fire in rural wastelands, unnoticed—an unappreciated, mock spectacle.

You have a dangerous secret for which some may get an award for, while some may get murdered for. But you should know, if you haven’t been found out yet (in the context of a flaming secret), that it cannot be brought with you anywhere, or in anyway.

I caught all I reached for, but then a tumbling into damp catch unwillingly showed me counter-power.

This is about the time where a long, sad story had come to a close, yet started another. There is nothing worse than having to start over with a new eternity. I got out of my hometown barriers. I made those volcano friends, and I have met many painting-lovers, love-despisers, sense-submergers, as well as  plenty of people who told me to just go back to where I had come from.

Never drew a map; sorry, don’t even feel like sharing it. But here’s a time, quite recently, where tongue-in-cheek genius arch first let me jump into its genre…

I was a small little character in the midst of a whole, overwhelming amount of moments, always going on, everywhere and always at hiding spots when hiding spots were safe, but not for you if you were unable to handle your mind feeling jittery and misplaced.

There were so many incredible people whom I will never forget.

City Apartment, Nobody About the Benches: A Brief Discussion of Knock-off Cliffs

I have my blue glasses and a key to unlock more in my pocket (my apartment on the third floor that has a bed and tools for creating love songs). I am also wearing a brown jacket with navy blue pants. Being moving—being other places, mind or in the present—you see other people end up where you were. Luck is for a while (an invitation that gets sent out from your comet lifetimes from before), and if that is you, who didn’t find a shooter to shoot back out to you and onward, you already know that seeing others at other places is not as impressive when you battle to be just as far away from being unable to remove yourself; to visit or relocate to your true preference. But the locals--the people you are surrounded with when you move in to a certain place— they discover you and you discover how it all must be temporary. That is a light, wonderful topic that gets brought up on some rooftops when a giddy person breaks the news and says, “Go fast, but you must take care of us.” Those saying that over rooftop dialogues, were teachers even when they were students, brave and content, guiding panicking minds that want to forget the rules and charge their futures with vengeance.

I don’t know.

If I scurried into Gerald’s Cafe House for a break, and closed the curtains and placed the pen (that was behind my ear) onto the table and sat in the red chair I always sat at, then the owners would make all the customers leave and then, themselves lock each other in the back until I was finished. This was a gift that they admired that I was keeping alive, keeping functional and protecting, and never denying the withering paths they still believed to exist.  

But I warn you, they also told me they never even get to explore. I thought, “How could they know then?” or rather “Their companionship is surely in the dearest tone.” It was like blood actually showing up in the waterfall and bathing inside the mixture. What type of creature would decline an honorable belief (dressed up with defense) if all desire is to filter out and replace with honesty?

Their business closes down annually until they gamble with what they have already purchased. Some of their customers get light-headed in their presence. (But these particular owners actually fell in love with people coming back, especially ones who were racing the wavelength of romance (free drinks to couples!). And there were moments I confirmed and congratulated them on acknowledging that endearing corner of loudness—yet I was no expert, and I kept reminding them. They would give nervy laughter out of empathy because I would toy with denying what I knew could not be lost and withered.

Though, there was an extent of revealing that I partook in early on after we met. The owners of the shop were standing outside their building. They had gotten married the sundown before, so they had it written on the wall with handprints, imprinted with the help of blood under their note (none of your business). I smiled, accepting the beguiling taboo approach of invitations, and I took the same ink and did so with them from time to time with dearness and merriment.

Anyone could come to write whatever softness on the wall. The local impatient and provoked children were able to hooray on this, though there was etiquette for only pushing forward secrets that would save the town; disruption was and is not worth the brief attention before exile. To some, these writings were just proclamations of artificial resurrections written on the outer wall of the shop, or even sometimes thought up to be some sort of advertisement that would make the allure some sort of diversity. (An inside job, could you believe it? Even the loose things get tangled opinions).

-

There was an article I read in the town’s news that the mass of them would always think there would come a day where you had to start taking what you talk about a lot more seriously, and you would have thought it was like mowing the grass on a clear-minded morning. Or even as easy as the days you try to glance yourself in the mirror and catch what keeps you up, but instead tell people to get more sleep and stay healthy, and forget about the twitch inside your body when you sit too long.

Danger is taken very seriously when you step back into the makers of it. I don’t think the locals of this city-place that I am here visiting, have ever seen a flower besides the thousands they pass unknowingly every day, even the ones that felt the little growing plants acted like it was a gene they were trying to lose and stay away from.

My motion has accepted and also denied, but never did I not go see obvious alternatives other places guarding nothing but survival. For I was once shown the once-striking but now increasingly-soothing conversations that must be held so that truth ceases to dwindle into something as immature as folding the first and last instruction more delicately than the ones in-between. In more simple terms, it was for oneself: the hunt that is getting away.

How it was for me at least, during my times at rest after my adventures far from here and now settled in—-my in-betweens, my waits—I wondered what milestone all my old tribes were huddled around (the ones I base everything on). I would attempt to mimic the emotions and denouements of those ages with sound, reimagining and repeating them.

If those were not taking me, I would put on “Paraphrasing by a Collaboration of Interpreters,” a recording I often used to work out my footing before semesters or a tactic to find friends on a bizarre scale. It was always playing. I had made this a routine during my afternoons. I usually attempted to prescribe off-putting patterns to each of the interpreters when it was their turn to step up to the mic and tell me they could not afford taking any dangers at risk without stopping to survive them. But a thought strung along with me, from a young gypsy woman. It was tied when we were brushing each other’s hair, while our feet hung over the cove, out in deep tropics discovered by astrology fanatics, then discovered by us years after them, but only a few years ago from this time now.

“You simply cannot anymore. I will fall into deep, blue holes and I will reach up to you for clarity before daunting layers. But you would be at careful ease, pointing your eyeglasses, tracking a covet while nearing toward what is the worst plan and away from my crippling plummet.” She was right; I did not know how to save anyone.

It was incredibly simple: the way my priorities did not matter as long as I capitalized my casualness, and it made me a bit guilty at times. But at least I had a few people thinking that I wasn’t ever in a beautiful place, so I could understand and study this manic party of judgmental lethals that kill the users. I never caught their names, yet they made their points of the shoes fitting and I’d look down and stall (just like they wanted).

-

The pieces are almost set out for view, I just need a little more time until you see how I am where I am. My name is Riled, now and for a while.

I forgot to mention, although all my scatters are pointed in the right direction, I’ll first say—and I have hinted it so—there are places that were home and there are places you must be for some time.

Oh dear, I am not home.

And you can tell because of the irritated hope in my voice and the mentions of the foreign aura. I am underneath cover, and they kill each other, or want to. You want to pick out the faintness in another, join or pinch. Of course, there is always the continuation of accusations until someone eventually winks. That is how it is done here and in most places, when you’re not somewhere safe.

But I have walked these streets before, through a tint while they were darkening. This was after I had let the outskirts rush me from the place of old horizons that did not want to be left. The first thing I wanted to briefly explore, before I found out about the moon a few nights ago, changed my settings forever, and it was how I couldn’t have noticed if anyone was trying to clean up and clearly see through the best parts of this town. My new favorite spot: the cliff at the edge of the city, completely closed off by tall walls of green ferns and only a staircase for those who knew about it.

The swing sets and benches were always empty in the city as were a lot of other places I had been. The people just weren’t about it. There were only paces that were moving slowly and huffing, quickly away into closed safe-houses of their own wrong-intentioned, grumbling anarchists.

I got very much used to seeing (when resting was at any time) certain things: 1) this version of weeping that cleansed and reset and 2) this presence that circles around your corpse and breathes life through. It was LAUGHTER directed toward the simplest pleasures and shooting out refreshing reliefs and hints. And that was easily understood; you could have made a wonderful life of it.

I have taken notice, in this town and the radio waves sharing-in distances, that there is a mist of some sad progression overflowing with all the cures dying off. When you wander around, it is obvious, brightly apparent that the hilarious and the depressing are manageable, and yet, exquisitely profound states of presence. But as one could tell when one would latch onto any emotion that day out of desperation, the number of people dragging around feeling insulted is the reason the static crazies have their moments indoors and alone. Manic freak-outs, but frightened of comforting things—there is no keeping count and no keeping mount. I understood, before I came here, that I would know these people must fall deeply and recognize open spaces. Gathering that I could not just ask around to learn where the magic was (whether it was in beautifully lit tents, or in a treehouse), and then it being firmly unavailable. That would have crushed me.

It would create only multitudes of plans to task through all that was once thought of as a younger, underdeveloped inconvenience, which one must take out to save skin from coldness and sempiternal spirals of darkness, swallowing all wholes with only particles of science and beyond shrinking as the distant gaining speed is victoriously off and away to a place with no pleasures or breaks. It is essential that you determine all answers for yourself.

There were secondary places suggested to me by influences that I was able to wind out when I spent sunsets with them (the ones they were never fully sure about having me invited to) and I had written down coordinates for times of overwhelming inputs that hung outside on buildings, outside my window, which I wasn’t able to shun when they would become toxic to my discovered, genuine stillness. They keep dwindling the (knock-off) vibrancy at these secondary settings, and I was forced to get used to it. House get-togethers, public parks, needed money, needed validation of whatever “correct behavior.” It was awful, and reminded me of home far too much.

The Cliff

My mind would intact briefly and breathe blue, clean breaths every time I popped in on somewhere unforgettable on my own—the final drafted, already established. The fountain is at the corner, at the left edge of society, literally overlooking a cliff that the best (yes there are) people of this world (the ones who happen to spawn in this city, too) come and relish unapologetically and with mind. Lying down, you would see how the grass walls don’t block that much of the view when on the inside. You can see the buildings behind the walls, still standing tall. You can see yourself, along with those gathered around the fountain, in the green walls all together, looking out and seeing a huge ocean with younger ones jumping from the cliff down on the left side a few hundred yards away (still secret, they are still the great ones).

The exuberant come here to relapse and recharge, as it was indeed, all gigantically covered with vines and roses. It was a small collection of natural, hidden explosions muffled for only the ones inside to hear the tones lathered so blissfully and full of beautiful thoughts (every little thing, from the foundation of the Earth to the foundation of man gracefully put between for appreciation and for the usage of others). It was as big as a room--the ceiling was blue, the top of the inside of a sphere, with the walls breathing in and out green life with their highlights of whichever color growth was in season. Behind the fountain awaited the water far down and away. Once, there were adolescents in red swimming suits making their way down the cliffs. They did not die, so they had an unspeakable way of a time each time they would hit the water from heights. Two of the seven in the group looked strangely at each other constantly. They were addicted, as I, to being shown what intensity there is to work with while in plain sight, vulnerable and open to whatever charges.

At dusk, the lanterns that hang from the edges of the sturdy rock, placed there by enthusiasts, start to glow. This was primary, and from time to time you even see the real hands that scribbled little, desperate sentences that could all save the world in their own forward direction from the grounds they were imprinted on. They varied from “It’s time for tea, swim across and see what is prepared,” to “Cheers to the few phews that prompt all royalty.” It looked like an old back porch, the property of an old journalist who only the Paris painters (with whom he hung out with without ever working on their stories) knew about during the Renaissance. It was hauntingly filtered with revolutionary thoughts you could soak in and dissect from an ancestor’s admirations to an altered anthropology lesson.

They, the sentences by the people, became most eerie when you sat down on the concrete blocks and discovered that they were all thought up here, then choosing what would daunt you, until you write your own, but rather with your noble intention to avoid disheartening beguiles—perhaps intention will truly never embody a weathered consumption. So I have never imprinted anything at the fountain, but embraced the taste of all incoming structures conducted, denying the opportunity to coexist, sadly and obviously; I was intimidated.

Being figured out was scary enough the first time, because it was by someone who knew the good things about me, too. I may just keep that one to myself, and let the traces be at peace wherever they may rest.

I admired these cliff people as much as I could, and wanted to know the secrets of what it took to be admirable without it being about a joke.

There wasn’t any furniture, but multiple ways of comfort were identified and examined in the practice of unfamiliar circumstances. The fountain in the middle never stopped its rhythm, and the coins that were thrown in it were worth as much as a leader's beginning of a speech about complexity—or so it was just as intimidating. We ducked into a secret, as a secret.

All just collectors who are looking at what they had earned without their money. They weren’t all behind on commitments; they were just out and needed something to remember they had allowed themselves the most frequent schedule they would ever embrace. I have kind of been doing this unnaturally a lot, a little longer than lately (so I knew a lot about the scary parts). How being a complete outsider cannot be a full-time deal if you want to grow old and meet more like-minds. Even though this secret fountain on top of this secret cliff was more of a quiet place, there were joyous communal glares exchanged that were full of vibrant yellow.

But it was wholly about the orange sundown with blue coats of splatter to keep it cool, with pink stripes always there. Or even, sometimes, the sky going upward as if selected, recommended harmonies that you can chose to sync with, keeping you matched up on starry nights that fulfilled until the next largest, open space revealing itself as effortlessly as possible, ticking and hinting that you need more than what it has to offer. Yet it will wrap you as warmly while you reset to new, while it resets its view, for whoever is approaching your buried troubles that will most likely just be picked up and put on. Spending the night here was heroic.

I would sometimes wait outside after I was done - seeing what we are all leaving with; the pace lets you be whenever you want to be. There was especially no trouble wanted by us fountain visitors, along with the tree visitors, storm chasers, cure discoverers, sound pointers, scene documenters, scene cleaners, and animal keepers. We all knew of each other, that there were others too to learn about, yet spotting parches were identified just by looking to see if they had red eyes, or jittery bribes to get in or be around—so much unnoticed evil, everywhere: even here at times.

The fountain was famous for hosting potent figures. I had a static seizure when I was not trampled; the welcome demonstrated the power, and showed me the rules of freedom. You could go somewhere else when you died--nature would draw you; agendas were filled spaciously with notes as a reminder of the stillness that was always achievable. But you could not go visit other stills, you could not love simple things, you could not visit old friends with your secrets, you could not mark anything as your own. Instead of weeping about coves and tree lines, which I gave nicknames to, I fell deeply in interest with these four-walled deranges and the bright lights carried around by creatures who looked like me on the inside.

It was the greatest of things, you know, that whoever did actually find their way to this obscure fountain, would find revealing simply a form of creation, and would take you as seriously as they took expeditions they wanted to survive—and I was never let down.

I will invite you to the moment I discovered it—it was a Thursday night, a full moon night. This very young man, at this moment to himself, with a much worn out blue shirt where the red, thin stripes were in style (not the large ones), which took up far too much of the blue.

-

The boy collided exactly where I did, with a haven’t-been-curious-lately look on his face, as I have seen before but never by him. He just happened to be here on random Thursdays throughout the year, resting his back against the prickly wall, and always the one wall by the entrance. His perspective: his back faced society behind him. He could have made plausible, daring eye contact with me had he not been occupied with his heavy shoulders pushing him to the floor, with an empty gaze—blurry forward, loose jaw, and jittery hands. I looked away from him, then away from another man on the floor, who I knew made money by mixing theft with his uneducated audiences to make his wealth and name. I did not like him here, and that may be selfish, but he is rotten.

The place was elevated off the street outside the green walls. There were stairs behind the entrance, and there were stairs by the balcony behind the pot on the left, which led to a thin trail through a row of trees, then a garden, then around and up to the top of the cliffs. Some went there to commit for good attempt; there were ways to look at yourself, even from such heights. Perspective isn’t much unless serenity is leveled and pieced together to mutter on about—what it means to say, to those you cannot see, what saves you gives them hell. I was held over until my last toe convinced me. Some mention mock-memorial not resembling the same humiliation in that moment of mine. That was months ago, and I needed that perspective at that time.

Even when I step out of character, these creatures know that whatever is going on must be one of the last things I have to hold onto; this was a dying gift to give. I guess you could think I was curious in the things that were historically immature and were at the edges of mass mutual agreement then as well. I just assumed dying without believing-in-something that might not have worked is what gets you into hell. So I listen and practice a lot, trying out all opinions.

Brought to a discussion, most often when topics are dry and ready to offend, that invading a timid privacy was in fact pushing some limit that was to be defined without input or warning. But I learned about personal explorations in someone else’s limits and caves. And there were some with open ends and beginnings, with fiery lights placed inside, and there were some closed and slippery unlabeled, boring walls that have no tones. And also, there are cells that must open regardless of the rupturing importance of which the inmate has been meticulously working up. I know well that in this case there is no place like wandering one whole away from the deep holes that were newly flourished or often even filled layers of tiny pieces of coal that leave no light for the deepest part of a tragic bypassing.

My aimlessness and hoping mind made me eligible for humility again, into which I believed I could bolt around the corner untagged and unregarded tonight, at a place and time of the old thought-out differences and turns that are unidentifiable and unusable unless used in unity and in exploration to put light over edges and gaze upon non-survivors, and show what they are meant to be, set out for during their time of shaking interest in difficult ages and dreary fortune. Could we see something similar in our setting tonight?

There have been wildlife and astrology, there have been spirits of mine running around chronologically. I had inquired of these cultural crossovers when I was guided realistically through rights laid out after having experienced vastly along the trail, where my feet left kisses, and these happened beautifully and always where culture was still spiritual and molding forms. I have had luck and I have had deaths. And with my desperation at a binge that told me to move from where I sat, untried and lacking to revolution.

So I made my way to him and would remember it all, regardless, due to mark distant points that closed in for the sake of colliding, to repel with extraordinary speed from new sources till again, and hoping for discrepancy to clear eternally.

Heart speeding on already, and while his head moved centimeters up to acknowledge my approaching than sitting self, I said: “It is embarrassing to admit, which I amusingly and inopportunely do at times, but I find your presence here as profound as the bedtime story one was told but never lived in, that prompted some other marvelous, personal land after the lights crawled under the bed and after farewells till morning or wishes to slumber in ease, then the closing of two eyes. Maybe a grandfather’s carving under blowing willow trees, or red balloons representing companionship when there is nothing to do but let go and know they will land back as the dreamer would in hours, leaving behind that green balloon, closing in and retaking one’s love from the waning flames of one’s first. What if you forget those initials of the old man’s memoir wood? 

“That brings me to the beating fact that when you see what you saw in the air, and the insignificance you believed your dreams to be, it shows that something thought to be gratitude was rather an experience matrix. Let me pass with care to you that your signification is of its own description and it is of the way you exist here now, letting what is under control rapture and overwhelm your composure and ease. 

“But this place is controlled by us, and do you see now how one can awake and frighten away the bedtime stories and their tellers, even in the morning daylight that was meant for peace, and that when there is a call for retreat, there is no place for safety? But you do not see that, you see something else here that runs and drags out there, too-something that gives you that feeling of retreat with your wounds, while others call it surrender and a cut-down of time. Even the ones who collapse and look like yourself do not carry themselves likely when they leave. 

“But you do stay in heavy reality with other foreign factors intruding, but you apply them. Or maybe you do not? You are only seen here or talked about in tiny circles of people who misunderstand you in crueler ways than dreamless, green balloons. Mother and child, where do you come from boy who sits around fountain and cliff view? You are not composite, and that never exists—even if you admit you derive, don’t tell me it is not play.”

All I knew of him was that he owned the most mystical mansion, because he once stood for a lot of things that were not up for thought, until he brought up a particular hill the topic resting at the top and the consequences on both sides.

He was still full of stories, ongoing and in process, because there was sadness touching me from his emitting glance of sorrow, matching up the way how my exuberance has been dissolving. Without the knowledge I was too weak to have up-front or within. We were already close enough, and beyond the physical space for an interaction such as a handshake to show typical decency. So he kept forward, as his posture slouched and his eyes were worn, while I let myself fall down next to him.

He had a clay ball that he took from his pocket and into his hand; it was red and it came back down correctly, without a god to do anything but catch and repeat a creature-mimicking power. It was expected, understood, and cherished if he put no significance into the words he would say or even find in himself a response—I feel over that.

Know me just as one wanting to see. It was safe here often. Maybe he was spending his spinning moment recollecting studied shortcuts, before he noticed I was sitting, to turn himself into someone that I needed to communicate with, someone like me who prescribes pestering, judge-free trust out of an experimentation of getting hints, or at least notes to subdue and apply to my currents, a crime. I spent my moment acknowledging the pink, in-bloom hollyhocks complimenting dark-blue, green, and white dots.

As I kept close the night sky and swallowed then stammered through, “You are lying here, reliving a year—or two—with tears I know far too well in my own interpretation, that is growing into my deepest insecurity. You see, you must excuse me coming up to you like this, but I must. And I must stop saying ‘I’ now, so please speak on what you are willing to tell a stranger, applying pressure on weaker spots surrounding your weakest.”

He understood, and said, “Are you interested in, what? Let it exist.”

His legs uncrossed and crossed again. The exhibit of value for free begins most value, so, naturally, my eyes filled with small tears. The boy would not have noticed, neither would someone behind the bushes if they were listening in. No shaking, but varied, still downpours of exhausted relief made purposeful through the topic.

“It’s important, I guess,” I said.

My legs stretched out and made me taller, onto moving toward the view. My prologue followed the replica of length. “The moon being full, when I see you here sitting, tonight.”

He looked up, and I noted the encouragement of attention. “I want to know—and I thought I did.” I said.

My fingers rowdy, I was depicting sounds that I heard, like the night, so I could move, going onto the next. I stood back and walked past the fountain and toward the edge for the view. The direction facing out, there were calm boats, which might have held people aiding the neglected species that breathed differently after hours, out amongst the vast reflection of the water.

The look-over had two large pots guiding you in; this was a tall place. I saw something I wanted to remember when I walked over to the edge; it was of colors, and the small black colors in my eyes exploded accordingly, but only tinting my face from the distant set-off. You would have saw something, too, how it was far and shooting past. 

I turned, trying not to miss importance ever again. He was leaning over himself. He was wincing through pain, but stood up for me. The stomach that he had was his derange; people argued that he had the wrong variety at times. He picked a flower from the garden. He obsessed over the way it had nowhere to go but his hands. He muttered quietly as he floated over to where it was expected of me to sink to the plans of his process.

“It usually happens Thursday morning, but I would like to have you experience some jaded, unrelated before, but an important I know you must see.”

The colored flower sat on the edge, unidentifiable by its family, where I rested my right shoulder. I was listening, as I looked at death.

He looked up with dry eyes. “Dry eyes, you see. Some people get some preparation; I get reminded.” 

He handed me a card with information on it, even though I never wanted that.

MORNING OF

Pure ecstasy—it is a moment where black flashes yellow, or some fancy investment is not matching your wild, child-like world of colorful hallucinations any longer—you come around to it. Turning that, shaking that, you find an echo of terror making camp in the part of the brain you love the most. A good performance—that’s all you’re asked for when you are healthy and young. “Live like it’s your last…Till death do us part... Don’t be afraid…” But dying once is a surprise that all of us have been cracking up.

Last night, I woke up and I felt fire on my back; I was falling in this loose darkness. Luck is bolder than honesty. You wake up, and you know it was like a cry you needed, yet you walk for blue moments on blue, knowing that what you were seeing was exactly like you. Last night’s moment and now, broadcasted as intimidating, more potently startling as it goes on. The creatures who were around to protect me all think I am boring—haven’t seen them in a while. If I were only able to produce a confession of less. Certain frenzies you find in your fantasies are as easy to work out as to withdraw twitches in your day-by-day body. So I started one you get more of, but offered no re-dos.

There were once incomparable shortcuts still boxed up and scattered about my bedroom. I had stopped investing again, recently. No one would be able to make a fortune by proclaiming they didn’t have time for what they think about.

My figure stumbling over and rapid, I check to see if I still look the same, in a mirror that came with the apartment downtown. I could hear delicate missiles being launched outside in a park by the street, the deeds of fast-living humans. They exploded color until it was too small to see. Even the daylight couldn’t stop them. The left side of my face had two lines that were filled in with blood; I felt them with ease. Scratching happens. I had dedicated a few binders, which I kept on a shelf near my bed, for what I could remember about the experiences that pushed deep into plans of edgy actions, planned against the other side of my imaginative tales forced indoors. Pedaling in the lane of danger isn’t a safe place to make plans, nor a direction that slows down a beat. I let water soothe my face, while the way outside, it felt, was making me want to see it. The sun chose to rise again, and out the window where I stretched, I could see a woman with naked pores worth a lack of sores and some man trying not to be seen broken while strutting with shiny apparel.

I kept inspiration on walls, in a closet, spread out on floors, and I changed them often to keep myself away from being the type of work that didn’t know when to shed into a renovated mind-set. Sometimes I draw up an obsession with paintings done on cabins, paintings of park-rule signs in front of owned, phenomenal places, or pictures taken of bears. The mirrors I have stood in front of the paintings that captured stillness. The things I didn’t know had me falling—I found that I was spinning out. The last time, I forgot to update the space for challenging thoughts. If that were to happen again, I wouldn’t be able to hold a conscious face for the closed that look for an opening to compare fortune. There were creatures dying, creatures lying. 

A house can be made if there is a feasting of the locals. Prostrating throughout discussion leaves you wondering why you started anyway. So you move on. You let oak and natural smells make your choices, you learn their language. The way things move flick over the modern topic in hands.

I live today undauntedly, as many other times, but an unwanted subliminal brews over my head. Making it to the point when work is staying alive, which keeps you in, being fed up with everyone outside skipping over the introductions of titles. At one point, that was my favorite part, but they have their points that I settle into.

Once, I paid a stranger to carry me out of the city in a navy coffin. When I looked up into the almost black, all I could hear was the rattling of someone being strong enough, but not capable of things being easy. 

But that is what I paid for, and it wasn’t much. Probably, had his boss found out about his rare, lucky tips, he would have slammed his skull with a smith’s hammer and scooped him up like the rest till the stacked pile in the back shack. I tipped him anyway, and I was off to my own pile, which I found was in need of a sorting, not a viewing. My foot’s tracks--there were colors I saw that matched only in those parts of what was unable to be captured. One is something different, one finds.

After the morning thought, I took down a painting of a bird flying up, which was above my bed. It was made for me, in the same room as me, by The Painter from the north-eastern borders. He talked about his “real” home, and how it depended on him stretching out to come here. There was always a canteen of poison hanging from one of his belt loops, and he said that the birds actually disturbed him back home when they shook a branch, or poked their heads around. We were both talking about leaving during that short period I spent with him here in these busy streets. In fact, The Painter was the first person to tell me to go back to Greenland--he was a disappointment.

I set it down, jotted a note that would remind me to write another one on it when I delivered it discreetly to a gallery. They would see to send me a due. There was plain, red thread that I threw on my back. There was proof that everyone needed to get into places only busy people get into—a picture of my face, identification. It was in my left pocket. 

Exposing people is a terrible flaw; a lot to do with how I come to know that is watching someone be alone in an empty place, and calling out to them. It is an embarrassing habit, but I do it often out of being consistently nowhere identifiable. Some people afford castles by exposing great secrets. There was a gathering, in a cave somewhere at a mountain, where we taught each other how to never expose again. There was this girl—she had a beautiful face like an angel, but she was taking notes moment after moment, until we finally burned her face off at dinner time. That is when we found out she had jotted down directions. Note to find alternative ways of letting needed things through in the midst of chaos, or you’ll lose what you needed to see, what you gained. 

So I picked up the card the boy gave me, and I made the day to talk to him about why he was okay with willingly exposing himself to me when I broke. I scrambled over for a last look at the streets before I walked out of my room and into the hallway; I didn’t feel anything then. It was a Wednesday morning.

-

I was out amongst a lot of things. My building was a few blocks from the hill he was on. There were also a few tall things that made you go around between our stance. During a time where I thought about logging, I spent many hours at a small shop under a mob’s quarters; it was at the corner of this intersection. I decided to stop by because I knew they sold music sheets. Inside, they always had tunes, turned in a direction that kept the owners peppy regardless. When I stepped in, and as the bell rang for dedicated attention, I found that this music was on today. Flipping through lifetimes of beautiful atmospheres and thoughts, I picked up a replica and bought a warm cup of tea at the counter, where I talked to the owners about fish and whether they ever throw them back. They said they did when there were grandchildren figuring things out by watching, but otherwise they shredded them with their teeth and went for their friends. I tipped them some coins, and walked outside into the air of the world with my bag in my hand.

The first thing I heard was a scream followed by a bang followed by a siren announcing some start. What I saw to begin with, somewhat, was a summer photo shoot in the fall. I ducked my head left and went that way. There were all kinds of voices behind me, and the ones that held my interest in front. I heard a smile from a poor man who made his living doing so, testing its distance. There were lots of damaged lungs, and lots of people going places.

-

Up the street, there started a noticeable sight of wider rooms after rooms with longer spaces between the few houses, going up into where you could purchase quiet time. There wasn’t any property up for grabs sitting outside the most expensive; no one needed to get anywhere unless they did, into which they made that process a fortune to owe. They kick you out if you hop outside. There are sections thought up of, when I wasn’t thinking in any way about what I was doing. Admittedly, going hunting is the way of the mammal , contrary of cleaning spoons after something prepared. The sidewalks were still carefully made onward and upward. Although this street was the home of my destination and would be the end of a repetitive that was started ambitiously, that was more helpful than usually thought up to be.

His manor, from the outside: tall, mid-tone gates along the front, from which I was able to see the expensive surprises inside for free. There was a light on up in the fourth floor; you could feel that an atmospheric galaxy was in the whatever-sized room. He was the owner. Smooth audibles, matching keys that matched with others separately, yet all tangible to an overwhelmed, inspired chin rub. I was able to recognize it because I have been around those specifics, but I could not replicate any of this, and it was all so terribly unwrapped for me.

The gates opened and two tall men with soft, lavender suits approached my left and right. When I moved, being the onlooker, I stretched my arms out so they could hold the ends of them, and finally do what they think of while they wait outside day after day. 

The two men turned in my direction, their inner hands caressing mine with their gloves off, and their other hands pointing out blue trees for resting, retired blue birds and a sonnet written across a tall, wooden wall that was the entrance to an orange garden, with women playing harps and resting on broad dirt that was soft (you could hear that, too). An interest in looking into gigantic forces that kept you secluded, being put into words, slipped in one of my storage rooms. 

Softly, I was then told that the person who had written such a thing happened to have been fired for blue words, where he earned an audience but was viewed wholly as from the industry. The writer was the part about it and was hoping to leave, getting executed by crowds that did not see or know what he was talking about. As an extra, I now know that he lives tiny, because what he earned makes him with no need to grow, to go anywhere else. He is the writer, and he is out somewhere with others I didn’t know of to begin with. 

I walk and looking back from the inside was monstrous; the way the front yard was more broad once you were in it, and the gates taller from further away. A fountain of a young girl sitting on a bench was in the middle of a foreign roundabout in the front yard; the water came out of her mouth, down onto the book she was living in, then finally fell where her feet met the light action of submerging. She had shoulder-length hair, a skinny waist with a shorter skirt. I enjoyed what mattered about the frame I was showing to myself, as the similarly occupied man on the left was--it was to our right when we walked about it.

The two men carried out an innocent entrance with me, then bowed as they let go, their backs straightening after they turned and pressed against the wall of the mansion to resume patience. They were the finest at their job that I have seen over my years of receiving hands that were paid to. 

When I entered the open door, I was in a place where the welcome was casually dependent, as were the people I saw over my shoulder, who were gathering out in the street after another word from a visitor, at the most private estate for grand reasons unknown. They were talking with kept thoughts, let out for the exclusively, similarly experienced un-wealthy, who adapted to the idea of most gates closing off their welcome, even though most of the time they were missing what one needed to find so one could know what was going on. Didn’t fit anyway, just my people that I am losing depth with. 

I shut the door and didn’t make eyes with anyone, but the image of them got closer to the point of no capability of pointing my figure out. I was unweary with them, for I was closing myself off in dark, similar-minded atmospheres for the first time in a long time. The wasteland outside I am fond of leaving behind, yet I am showed in lavish, front-yard creations that were moved into and claimed. Mark me as the latest discoverer of vivid malice, birthed from various strands of realities, uneasy secrets striking me to my own, and I am unable of withholding realities except my own unmarked.

The Boy’s Manor

I was greeted with a long hallway, down the middle, as a lane for making my way through, shown with two rows of gold candles after another on the walls. The top of this tunnel was low, and when I stepped closer and closer, I found myself three steps down into warm water that continued to the end of the hall, where I made out a dark, burgundy room that was used as a study. 

Standing from the distance, I could only make out a table and some shelves with books. Before I would slip off my shoes to make my way in, I gave my attention to the two doors, which weren’t options for any company, but up-front for enigmatic taste. I knew this because the doors were both closed off and had locks on them for keys. Blue and with vines, the one on the right had a sign that temporarily spelled out, “Be down after B-flat.” I expected this was the location of the sounds I had observed outside as I was looking up, accepting the idea that the house-owner expected his guest to walk through the tunnel while he was off onto personal projects with natural appearances.

So I looked at the red door on the left, leaving it at that significance as I took the picture of me and the gift for the owner and placed them on the floor right in front of my toes. I didn’t want these items wet, but I also wanted the host to know who was at the other side of his interest, and the appreciation at hand. I stepped over them, and submerged myself as I tend to inevitably find myself at this place that offers discussable, yet forcibly individual experiences.

I forced intrusive thoughts behind myself and invited all unfamiliar concepts to sprout inside of me, as they must at a time like now, in a place such as here. Paintings of creatures hung above the candles to my sides when I looked up and around. They were offensive styles that I looked over and anonymously exposed at committee discussions, but new meanings belong to all new places. 

Paddle after paddle, calm ripples that pushed at a pace that ended where I would in seconds now. I am at three steps again, and I turned my back to see the front door and where I was. When I stretched my way out, I made the wooden floor wet. 

What a monstrous library it was, now that I was able to see the ceiling, which went up through all stories and prompted a waiting room for guests. This dark room was a partner you could weep around. It gave off familiarities of those therapeutic rows sold out for low interpreters on a night of viewing preparations, something you would see during times of that occupation, a setting dressed up for effect with such purpose thought up by onlookers. So it would not matter how I was seen. 

There was a door up a floor that was accessed by a spiraling flight of stairs to my right. I made out a lock from my placement, then directed my attention to the middle, which had shelves of books that went up after having been filled with extensive rows of width. The mobile ladder scooted over to a loft as well, which I noticed on my left. It all prompted new design, yet still acknowledged its foundation of simple astonishment in closed quarters. I expected it to be an altar or a place of orange thought, the loft that was up, when a tighter place was needed, when pacing is just reminding you of overdone; and so it was.

I was usually the one to break the news of rudeness to myself. I have spent lifetimes studying legible manners, but I grasped the ladder with my hands firmly, steadying my weight that didn’t want to let go into the dead-space before contact with the floor. When I reached the loft, it was not tall enough for a human to squat let alone stand, so I crouched on my knees. There was a wool mattress with red blankets on top and two books resting at the edge: Kelpie Horses and Defense and the other, Shooting Down Arianrhod. 

One studied these writings to find out if the writer was real; I found that they were both pen-name frauds, and had an obsession with examining the way they wrote to close off their pasts. They did, in an irritating honesty, dress it all up quite well. That is what I remember from spreading their best works out to examine why dreadful and incredibly sincere words were used to describe the words themselves. But it is sad to watch an individual proclaim that they can be trusted, when all they did was stay the same and add thoughts they wouldn’t die for, or even swear on a life that they exist at all or are impure without coverage. I could not find interest back then, but I picked them both up and crossed my arms for gentle support. 

There was also a red curtain covering a small window across from the bed. All I needed was my fingertips to open up a view, so I let go concept after concept. I had a hand for rest and a hand for revealing. I pinched the curtain over starting from the left side, and when I scooted an inch back to see what was made up of the library, I focused back toward the right curtain, which I caressed like the grass you lie upon in spring on top of red blankets. 

The left side of my face reflected colors from what I could not see until my right side confirmed them, shooting out from trees in the backyard, beyond the acre of a second garden named after a native tribe leader who had left a legacy of tally marks representing all the times he had refrained from announcing his heroism. I knew this because I had met one of his great-great-grandsons at a lynching of the wealthy.

But I won’t bring that up, because not all crossovers are threatening and I, as well as being the descendent of a popular man, found such actions to be of a coward’s backup statement of cowardly firsts. The garden was beautiful, equally as the one from the front yard, but this one had a thin pebble path that took you through it to gaze at foreign designers’ work, or down to the forest where war was happening in those trees. Or some sort of grand finale celebrated with science so that you could hear them howling through the night, chanting-in understood differences that were translated (by me) as “gnawing what lovers don’t eat, screeching what stammers repeat.”

Being behind walls or behind in lessons had me beating, soothingly nerved. I cursed why I was not dancing, and why I had left where it all began to begin with. But I have no power of that or of blessings, but of memory and passing that all was made within me and spread around, touching all color and wind to people I met down at the town, who would give me jobs to shut me up and use my interview words for their advertisement—when blue is used in a way you do not agree with.

I sat up, blessed to be blooming my own orange thoughts, with my feet dangling off the edge, becoming an item of the library, waiting till the owner alerted, remembering when I had been terrified of the tribes I was with, and when they had started to write notes to spite me at the resting spots through spiraling roads and scenic benches. But I found that they were moving onto some other language and wouldn’t decipher my most yellow hints. 

Sometimes I could see myself turning around and watching all the partners I had for hunting, who saw me as game and charged. So I wandered to a place closer than you’d think, going back again, and started calling myself by my birth name again, and frequently verified whether I had yet to begin morphing into sorcery, head always down.

Your parents are supposed to cry when they see you staying crazy, and then once more when you decide to scowl, when they see your hidden house packed up. But I did not see mine at the expensive descent back down, nor a memory to imagine me when I went up, because I strongly believe no one was surprised after I kept saying, “I always will be,” endlessly in stern, when I was younger than young. These thoughts were now merely contemplations of masterpieces and which to soon consume. There were a few favorites I kept stored away in my most decorative confinements—quite literally, quite secretly in mind. But as I started to dress up the characters and start whichever song, I was bombarded by the towers that would guard my thoughts. Until the ghostly moon I shall be chosen to unlock a way out of this life, the same life I now pronounce upright and with intimidating power.

The tip of the toe of the boy who I owed had touched the water. Relapsing briefly into letting go of an edge, with rattling venom that some would call “the bottom.” But I stayed up top for now, with my legs hiding under my neck, hunching over just so my eyes could work out simplicities that are endlessly twisted, or possibly the scarce ingredients that are put in to end cruel wars that save the good that few create.

Oh, look closely. You see—so serious, so overtaking, all so heavily near me now. He was pushing himself down the hallway, emerged inside the liquid forces. I knew one approaching me was one too many, but he stepped up into the room and did not notice me. The boy took off his soaking clothes, and walked across the room and up the spiraling stairs. He had the sheets of music in his arms that were dry, and, it was assumed, he kept them lifted out of kindness. When he made it up the stairs, he unlocked the door and went inside, until he came out with a ginormous maroon bathrobe swallowing him the whole. He locked the door and came down, looking at me with a smile, and keeping that frame until he came over, close to my feet.

The boy said, “Everything starts when it should, it’s a yike.”

Contact Information

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[spockandawe]

I really need to stop saying that ‘I’ve got time and spoons now and it’s time to catch up!’ because I’m pretty sure it actually just means ‘look out, I’m about to be totally dead for a week or two’. But here I am, I’m not asleep yet, and I do like talking about nsfw character things.

Time to take on some of the more challenging characters from my inbox! First up is Nightbeat.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Oh man, I’m a total sucker for any excuse to get people to cuddle, but I just can’t make it fit for Nightbeat. He’s no good at boredom, and understimulation is going to be really, really easy when you aren’t doing much but lying in a bed together. Unless you wear him out to the point of exhaustion and he drops asleep right afterwards, he’s going to be up and active. He can be affectionate and things too! But it has to come while he’s DOING something.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Ahhhh, this one’s tricky for everyone, EXTRA tricky for him. If we come at it from an angle of what body parts are most fun to focus on in bed, lemme think. For Nightbeat, if he had to pick ONE thing, it would be the face. Because like he did with Cyclonus, he can read an uncomfortably personal level of detail off all sorts of places if he wants, but the face is going to give away more about emotions in the moment than anywhere else. If he has to key in to any one thing, that’s the one. On the flip side, it’s a lot of fun to cover up his eyes and make him work harder for information. Because stuff in bed... there isn’t a SCRIPT, but there’s a fairly logical progression. Variety and Interesting Things are the way to keep him engaged, and it’s easier to stop him from getting ahead of the plot if you can slow him down and make him work for the information.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

This is a little abstract, but imagine, like... him breaking down the theory of what’s being expressed in the symbolism of a sex act. So like, imagine him getting a blowjob with the other person kneeling in front of him, and when he’s about to overload they pull off and Nightbeat comes all over their face. Nightbeat breaking down the MEANING behind the act in a way that people usually... don’t unless they’re me and writing about that kind of thing for fictional characters :V But if he’s able to talk through the ideas of submission, possession, surrender, marking, all that, he can access some emotional territory that really doesn’t come naturally to him :P

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Dirty secret. Hm. Probably he’s got a fantasy about being tied up and overstimulated to within an inch of his life, so much overwhelming sensation and exhaustion that he can’t even think anymore. Because he DOESN’T know how to stop his mind from constantly racing and problem-solving, and being forcibly knocked out of that headspace is something fascinating to think about. On the other hand, I don’t think he bothers sharing that, because pfft, someone who can overwhelm him enough to stop him from thinking? Can’t be done, he’s too brilliant, but it is interesting in the abstract. (don’t tell nautica, because that sounds like a challenge)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Oh gosh. Let’s go with... not virginal. Experienced enough to know the basics, including the basics of a decent spread of kink stuff. But he’s never had a long-term thing, whether casual or emotional. In a casual setting, he doesn’t see the appeal, seems like an overall waste of time and energy when he can deal with the occasional urge on his own or find a quick hookup. He’s been vaguely interested in the relationship thing for a while, but there wasn’t anyone who was clicking with him that way, and it wasn’t an URGENT interest, so it’s slid for a long time.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Face to face, for sure, but within that I’m having trouble seeing any strong preferences. But having that face-to-face eye contact and such, it helps him stay engaged. Which is good! But he is prone to his mind kind of wandering off in whatever interesting new direction, and if he can keep himself focused on the scene and his partner, it’s more fun for both of them.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Oh my god, he’s a goof. It’s not very intentional, but he doesn’t take himself too seriously either. He acts however he acts, and can recognize the humor in being a kind of unusual person. He kind of enjoys gentle ribbing about the unintentionally-goofy things he does, because the other person is engaged and taking in information about him (the way he can’t help but constantly take in information about them), and is really processing and responding to that input. It’s not exactly the kind of decoding he does, but it’s close enough that he loves it. See: Nautica again,  I really, really love the way they interact.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He’s generally well-cleaned, but he doesn’t really seek out situations that would get him not-clean either. If he’s doing normal everyday things, he keeps up with stuff, but if he has a major hyperfocus thing going on, good luck getting him to keep up with food, sleepy, hygiene, any of it.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Oh my goodness, romantic is not the right word for Nightbeat XD He can be really sweet and caring, but I just can’t see him finding it important to perform romance. It’s kind of... not-necessary, to his way of thinking. He’s showing he cares in the important ways, and emotions are expressed there without setting aside actions to only Express Emotions. He’s attentive, as long as he’s interested and engaged, and if he’s sleeping with you, he probably does care enough to be plenty interested and engaged. Otherwise, why would he do it? Expressing DEEP, heartfelt emotions is probably a thing he dodges, because he doesn’t do emotional vulnerability very well, but that’s a whole other story.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Honestly, I’m not seeing it happen that much :P Physical urges happen, and sure, maybe he’ll sometimes act on them. But if there’s anything else that has his attention, getting himself off gets bumped to the back of the priority queue.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Ooh, this is going to come up a little under N, but I think that most of the kinks he has are centered around control. Either orders or bondage or laying out rules or whatever other thing. If someone can take control of him and make his decisions for him and take the steering wheel, that’s hot. If he can tie someone down and almost treat them like an experiment and methodically (sexily) break them down to an endpoint of one or more overloads, that’s hot. And fun. He doesn’t have much preference for topping/bottoming or subbing/domming, but he’s pretty easygoing within those bounds.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

No real preference? A place is a place, and unless bits of the setting are playing a role in the sex, the sex is about people and bodies. He just doesn’t much see why it matters.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

I think the best way to describe it would just be... being Interested in someone. If he’s interested and engaged and there’s mutual desire, hey, there we go. Hitting that point of interest and desire is the tricky bit, but once he’s decided someone is interesting and he likes them, that’s most of the hard part done. Have I said interesting enough times yet?

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Going from K, I think that where he stops being interested is when things go into the realm of like, painplay, humiliation, etc. Stuff that feels to him more about DOING a thing to a person, rather than it being a mutual activity. That’s not true depending on how you play, of course, but it’s where his interest stops. He doesn’t see much appeal in talking down to someone and telling them they’re just a toy for his pleasure. He’s fine with some pain within the context of something like bondage, but once it starts to escalate his interest drops.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Receiving, honestly. He’s not bad at giving, but oral sex is a fairly repetitive thing, and that’s not great for his boredom levels. It’s a bit of an issue sometimes in receiving too, but at least there he has more vision field to take things in, he doesn’t have to DO anything, and he can watch the other person, instead of getting just a close up view of the other person’s junk while he repeats a set of motions manymany times. He’ll give or receive without complaining, but it’s going to go better for everyone if it’s fast.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Ummmm. Not fast, exactly. But not slow. I think getting him to either speed extreme would have to be coming from his partner, and wouldn’t be his pick. On his own, I think he moves at a reasonable clip, but it’s definitely not rushed, and it’s pretty measured. He wants to Do A Thing and observe the reaction and continue Doing Things. If it was a slow scene, boredom. If it’s fast, he’s not getting enough time to look at the interesting bits.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He’s totally down, but I doubt he’ll initiate often. Honestly, I think he rarely initiates period, but he’s usually pretty open and receptive. It’s fun, it’s not something he would have asked for on his own, but he’s more than happy to roll with it.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Game to experiment, but only if he intellectually can see the appeal first, because otherwise, why would he want to do the thing? So someone trying to explain why they like being objectified, he probably wouldn’t click any further than ‘I don’t GET it, but I guess I’ll take your word’. But if you can get him engaged with the idea of a kink and why it’s hot, he’s probably down.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

He lasts a reasonably long amount of time, and I think he’s good for multiple rounds, but not with a very fast refractory period. He’s got stamina, but he’s not really designed for marathon sex (and he’d probably get bored before then and cut things short, tbh)

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

If he owns a toy, it’s a pretty basic model that he doesn’t mind losing or leaving behind somewhere :P He doesn’t see much appeal in sex without the connection of a partner, and he doesn’t see much appeal in toys when he’s already got two good hands right here.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oooh, he wouldn’t think it was teasing, but he can be GOOD at this. If he gets into the mode where his partner is an experiment, where he provides an input and observes the reaction. Imagine him doing a SUPER thorough, methodical breakdown of everything about them. He could make this last for a long, LONG time. A long, SEXY time. Heck, even if he just got interested in how edging affects a person, he can be very patient as long as he’s getting interesting results.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Not too loud, I think. He can get vocal, but I think it runs more towards lots of words at a very moderate volume. If you can get him into just making noises and not words, you know you’ve done a good job with him.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

There’s a fic I’ve wanted to write for ages, with Nautica having Nightbeat either tied up and gagged, or tied up and blindfolded, and having the personal challenge of keeping someone like him engaged and getting past a bit of the built-in self-control and giving him an EXPERIENCE. Given enough history between them and how the trust and openness is balanced out, she could totally pull off that fantasy about getting so overstimulated he can’t even think anymore.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s not low, but... it’s a low priority. If a partner wants it, that bumps it up the priority queue. If nothing prompts him, there’s lots of other interesting stuff he could be spending time on.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

NOT very. Unless you get him straight-up exhausted, he’s up and on his feet and MOVING as soon as he can manage. He’ll eventually wind down and come back to bed, if it’s night, but he doesn’t get sleepy after sex, he gets active.