#whom idk if it's okay to tag so i'm mentioning you in the tag

[boy-gender]

something i wanna mention re: your post about the bots stealing photos, it’s important to note that many of these come from transphobic, exorsexist, and intersexist targeted data breaches and are sourced/scraped from malicious sites/boards like the k-farms.

i’m ace and sex-oscillating (sometimes i’m fine with seeing sexual things sometimes i’m not) and even when i’m at my most sex-repulsed i want everyone to know that the sex workers in the tag are some of our most vulnerable population members (no matter their gender(s) or exact identity/terms) because they’re being targeted by these sites.

idk sorry if this is reiterating your post but you’re the first person i’ve seen mention the importance of “these photos are stolen btw” instead of “oh yucky porn” like. y’all some of these are photos which were only intended for one or two people to see. these workers can now no longer regulate that OR how people interact with them.

they get so much harassment because of stolen photos when it’s been ripped out of their private accounts…. it’s awful

Thank you so much for adding that. I sometimes forget that not everyone is aware of how dangerous sex work, even purely online not in person sex work, is. I should have emphasized more that sex workers are not the danger; they're largely *in* danger.

And not just of being harassed, having their material stolen, or being targetted, but also by the death of internet privacy and net neutrality. Bills like fosta-sesta, and it's successor kosa- which is moving forward as we speak- are steadily erasing protections for anyone who creates nsfw content anywhere on the internet. It removes software and data tracking that allow sex workers to vet their johns before they interact with them, especially if they're going to meet up in person, and that data was one of the CHIEF ways human traffickers are found and arrested, and their victims tracked down.

KOSA isn't just a danger to fandom- though it is *also* a danger to fandom- but to very real people doing a job as old as time. Outlawing the expression of sexual materials is never going to stop sexual activity, it just forces it to be done in the dark, where sex workers, a large chunk of whom are queer, are at increased risk of being harmed, killed, or losing their ability to make a living.

One of the things I said in my post was that sexual materials belong on tumblr like they belong anywhere. Some people may point to the fact that that's no longer allowed under the terms of service- regardless of what tumblr "clarifies," they still ban it, especially from trans people. I was here before then. I was here when net neutrality still existed. And I am going to continue to operate under those attitudes until the end of days. I don't post sexually explicit materials myself, but I am never going to tattle on people who do, and people who do report those real users (not the bots) to staff disgust me.

If you're sex repulsed, I get it. I'm personally repulsed by the smell of pomegranate perfume. It's a trigger for me. But I am responsible for my feelings- it wouldn't be right to demand everyone everywhere stop wearing pomegranate perfume, and by going in public, I run the risk that I will bump into someone wearing it. I will have to remove myself from that situation.

And the same is true for if you don't like sexual content. You are responsible for what you do with those feelings. It's okay to have them; you can feel however you want about sex! But it's not okay to demand that other people cease harmlessly expressing themselves to conform to your feelings, and it's not okay to act like a fucking cop and purposely try to interfere with their job because you have the ick and don't approve.

Sex work is labor. Sex workers having ways to protect themselves and others is as close to "unionizing" as sex work gets. Stop interfering with what are basically their labor regulations. Block and move the fuck on!!

Do report the bots though. For SPAM. For STEALING MATERIALS. Not for the sex.

[laiwalane]

hey, could you please write something with sally mckenna and the countess?🤍

i really love them, their biggest fan for like three years but there are almost no fics with them and i really liked your fandom list and writing style (?) so, wanted to ask for smth like fluff or smut, but not too short if it’s okay💅🏻

oh yea.

Phantom Passion

pairing: Sally McKenna x The countess

warnings: idk just sex

tags: light dom/sub, gentle sex, first time, soft talk

_______________________________________

The flickering candlelight illuminates Elizabeth's room in warm orange tones, casting shadows on the pale skin of Her Majesty the Countess. Her eyes are partially closed, and her lips sigh as soon as Sally breaks away from their kiss. Beautiful.

Being with Elizabeth in any romantic capacity is still something Sally can hardly believe. For Sally, Elizabeth is perfection, something so precious that she certainly shouldn't be allowed to touch her. And yet it is there. Elizabeth chose her, although it would have been enough for Sally just to be in Elizabeth's life. She would never have expected that these desires would come to this.

–Relax.– Sally whispers, running her fingers over Elizabeth's shoulder. They pull back the bra strap, leaving room for Sally's lips to touch the skin.

–Let me help you relax when you've finally given yourself a minute.

Elizabeth grins, no doubt fully understanding what Sally means; that the Countess runs a hotel day in and day out, being an immortal vampire, where it seems none of the staff can last a minute without her sensitive guidance, that such moments of escape from reality happen so rarely. No wonder Sally is so grateful for these moments. For such a limited time that can be devoted to her. Her. her Countess.

And yet Sally blinks, puzzled and immediately worried, when Elizabeth's hand falls on her arm, gently pulls her back.

– Countess?

- Just a minute. – Elizabeth doesn't seem annoyed or angry - just curious, all her movements resemble a white cat.

Until now, she had refrained from their intimacy, returning the bra strap to her shoulder and wiping her lips.

– Before we continue, I have to mention something.

Sally has to hold back her laughter. Believe me, Elizabeth will say this in the same tone as at a military meeting.

- Yes?

She didn't expect a sigh in response to this.

– That's exactly what I wanted to mention. Listen, Sally.

Elizabeth's usually stern voice softens at the end of her words, and she reaches out to take McKenna's hand.

– I don't want to complain about what we are... We've been close until now. You were just a wonderful partner, with whom I never even hoped to experience something like this...

the praise makes Sally tremble inside.

–Anything for you, Love– flashes through her head at the speed of light, but she doesn't dare interrupt her train of thought.

–That's what's bothering me, Sally.– she says, as if reading a ghost's mind.

Sally stops smiling and, in turn, a smile appears on the Countess's face. She runs her thumb over Sally's arm.

– Don't worry about it. The only thing that's starting to bother me is that you never think about yourself when it comes to us being together. I'm flattered that you're putting me in priority, but that's not what I want, you know?

Sally goes to deny it, ready for her usual chatter. She's here for Elizabeth's pleasure. Whatever she wanted, she would get, and it was Sally's duty to take responsibility and ensure that the Countess enjoyed herself in any way. Isn't this the ideal love in her understanding?

But she hesitates. Elizabeth's knowing look is too sincere for Sally to ignore, and, unwittingly, the fantasies that come to Sally when she is alone flash through her mind. She feels warmth begin to flow to her face.

–I guess that means I'm right.

Sally bites her lip.

–I shouldn't lie to you, honey. But you're the only one who matters, at least for now. After I saved you, I realized that I couldn't let you go anymore. And I'm being more honest with you now than ever.

– I know that, Sally. Her voice gets firmer, and Sally stops, looking down. There's something about that voice that touches her. She wants her cheeks to stay just warm, not burning.

– I understand how you feel about all this, but I don't want our relationship to be so one-sided.

For a moment, Sally is about to object, but the moment she looks back at Elizabeth's face, she stops. She knows her well enough to know when she's serious, and McKenna has little opportunity to try to change her mind. Not that she really wanted to. In any case, Elizabeth's conclusions are more than understandable to her.

– All right.– Sally says.

–Then please, Sally. I would like you to talk to me about what could improve this for you.

Sally looks down again. Her heart is pounding louder. He purses his lips nervously. She would like to say that she does not need to ask for anything, but that would be a lie, and her fear of disappointing the Countess with her desires does not outweigh the terrifying thought of lying to her.

– I want to emphasize that I liked those few times when we were already close, and I would not take anything away from it. In other words, having sex with you is just something

She's breathing raggedly. She's still looking down when Elizabeth's free hand strokes Sally's shoulder and cheek.

Sally's lips tighten. Her fingers touch the back of the hand touching her, and that's enough to make her speak.

– Iwant you to touch me.– Sally says, and her voice sounds like thunder in the silence.

Elizabeth smiles. Her thumb strokes Sally's lower lip, which spreads them apart. She's waiting for a kiss. Elizabeth's hands stroke Sally's neck and shoulders, pressing down on them to put her back on the bed. To her surprise, Sally just blinks at Elizabeth with her hands on either side of her.

– There is only one thing I need from you in return– Elizabeth bends down, and Sally longingly waits for what she will say, barely able to take her eyes off the countess, but fascinated by the clarity of her shoulders, arms, and stomach.

– Don't worry and don't think that you need to take control into your own hands. I'd really like to see how you behave when you comply.

Sally nods instantly.

A smile before Elizabeth tears the gap between their lips. Sally's eyes close with a buzz. Her mouth opens slightly, welcoming the touch of the Countess's tongue on her own, she shifts slightly on the bed.

Unable to move, and not needing to, he moans in a kiss when Elizabeth's knee slides between her legs and presses against her crotch.

Biting Sally's lip, Elizabeth changes course, instead wrapping one arm around the ghost's wrists and letting her now free hand wander. Sally lifts herself up to help her slide under her back, undoing the clasp of her bra; after a few seconds, Elizabeth drops it, and Sally's breasts remain in place. The Countess, of course, had seen her naked before. However, when she raises her arms above her head and gives Elizabeth such freedom of movement, she has never felt so vulnerable, and Sally's chest rises from breathing.

She slides her fingers up the center of Sally's torso, causing a slight tremor. They slide over McKenna's chest, experiencing her light caress on the nipple. In response, Sally's teeth grab her lower lip, her body twists slightly under the hand holding her wrists, and the corner of Elizabeth's lips curves. Sally didn't expect to like it so much. Perhaps she had spent less time in reality than she had imagined, and was too caught up in her own ideas of what was best for Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's hand reaches out further, wraps around her breast and gently squeezes, pinching the nipple with two fingers. Sally is sobbing. This sound is reserved only for those cases when she is alone, touching herself, imagining that she is in the power of Elizabeth, and she tilts her head to one side with her eyes closed.

– No need to be embarrassed, Sally

Elizabeth bends over, her breath at Sally's ear makes her shudder.

–Although I admit you look amazing.

She kisses the bare neck of Sally's turned head. They deepen as they descend, tasting the biting of the skin; Sally gasps.

Sally bites her lip. Would she dare to say the words that are on her mind?

— me... I don't mind if you leave footprints. She smiles.

Elizabeth's kisses lead her to the hollow at Sally's collarbone, where she sucks on the skin.

– I've been thinking about you a lot already -oh! – She is interrupted by her own moan as Elizabeth's mouth moves further without warning, her tongue moving up to Sally's nipple.

– Yes, that's it... –Making another, much more breathless moan, Sally's back arches and only brings herself even closer to her mouth sucking on a nipple. Her other breast still remains in Elizabeth's attentive hand, continuing to tease.

Sally tries to speak, to say something encouraging, but she never realized how much she can take her breath away.

Elizabeth's mouth is gorgeous. And her fingers, too, all the way down to the almost sly smile on Sally's chest, as if she admires every reaction Makenna has to her.

Her breathing becomes heavy as soon as Elizabeth's mouth leaves her chest. No matter now, Elizabeth's hand slides down Sally's body, following her waist to her hips. She is slow and teasing, her gaze penetrating Sally, forcing her to wait, squirm, while she anticipates where this hand will go.

– You're so beautiful. –The compliment makes Sally flinch.

– You look great as it is. I'm struggling to understand why you were so hesitant to tell me what you really wanted.

Sally is silent on this, fascinated by the process.

Elizabeth grins. Her hand slides over the red lace of Sally's underwear, her fingers dancing on the way to her lips under the material.

Fingers slide up, pressing on Sally's clitoris; she whimpers.

Elizabeth smiles as she watches Sally choke on the ongoing teasing, Sally watches her partner's face from under half-closed eyelids.

– How ready are you to do this?

– Anything. –Sally's blush deepens at how quickly she answered.

–Maybe we should slow down the first time– Elizabeth teases.

She presses harder, swallowing the excited twitching of Sallm's legs in response.

–Although I could do without both hands to really take advantage of you offering yourself to me. –Wouldn't it be too much of a request to tie your wrists?

Sally shakes her head—in fact, she would beg for it immediately—but first she has to check.

– No, I think you'll be fine. Aren't you?. –

– God, you're still asking, just do it. – Sally replies.

Elizabeth smiles with delight, which Sally doesn't often see from her

– You can wait for me right here.

The hand between Sally's legs retracts; she nods, holding her hands above her head, even when Elizabeth releases her. She hasn't had any doubts for a long time.

Moreover, she is delighted.

To make up for the lack of rope, Elizabeth takes her tie.

Sally can't help but run her tongue around her lips. The soft skin on her hands, the confident expression on her face - Sally's thoughts go beyond tying, and it should be noticeable, because Elizabeth blushes, although she also smiles.

– I should have guessed that you like specificity in sex. Just like me in other things.

Sally nods, feeling herself blush. She watches as Elizabeth comes closer, wrapping the tie around her hands.

– This is not the best option. Elizabeth says. –But I don't expect you to try to escape no matter what.

–I wish I could run away. – the ghost laughs.

Elizabeth's smile returns. She strokes Sally's now bound hands, slowly assessing her body. Over her breasts, down her stomach, her thighs are caressed and finally Elizabeth takes hold of Sally's underwear belt. Sally inhales sharply-nervously, but excitedly-as Elizabeth pulls her panties off her hips and throws them aside.

–It's beautiful. – she says, perhaps more to herself than to Sally.

She steps back to admire the view in front of her. Hungry eyes meet Sally's gaze, she reaches behind her back to take off her bra.

–You're perfect like this. – To think I could have gotten this sooner.

Sally's already ragged breathing becomes sharper as she examines the figure in front of her. Her small but strong figure, lust in her eyes; Sally's ready requests for touch are stopped only by Elizabeth diving in for the same. She bends over Sally again, caressing every inch of skin she can find.

They're kissing. Insatiable, their moans merge together, Elizabeth squeezes both of Sally's breasts before, still kissing Sally, she strokes Sally's body and spreads her thighs.

– Mm—

Sally's forehead wrinkles during the kiss, she shudders in despair, gasps when the kiss is interrupted.

– Oh one thing first, Elizabeth

– Yes?

– I hope you didn't forget the lubricant?

Knowing that Elizabeth will only tell her to calm down again, she stops herself from further ranting, explaining that this has nothing to do with a lack of arousal.

Elizabeth looks at her pointedly, takes a glass box of oil from their personal belongings and places it on the edge of the bed, as if to show her that everything is under control, returning with a caress to Sally's open thighs.

Elizabeth settles in front, putting her hands under Sally's legs to separate them. Her hand is on Sally's pelvis, and Elizabeth's exhale touches the ghost's crotch.

She's shaking.

Moving lower, the lips kiss the inside of Sally's thighs. They're slow. Loving. And yet it's agony, the more they step on Sally's hips, the more her body begs them to move on. Elizabeth's tongue runs over Sally's lips, stopping right at her clitoris. Her body shudders. Almost trembling with anticipation alone. The tongue makes teasing circles before licking the clitoris with a wide movement. Sally moans hoarsely, throwing her head back, and realizing that she cannot pull Elizabeth's head closer, instead clenches her bound hands into weakened fists and swings her hips forward.

– Oh, my love

Sally lets out a groan. He is able to control this as long as the tongue continues to work its way around her, right up until it touches the tip of her clitoris, and the licking ends with the tip of Elizabeth's tongue. Strong sparks of pleasure make Sally's back arch.

– Aah, oh—oh-oh-oh... this...”

We've been dragging our feet for a long time.I won't torture you this time. – Maybe Elizabeth is saying this in a joking way, and maybe not.

The tongue moves to a wider licking, allowing Sally to sigh and her body to relax a little. She's breathing. Inhale, exhale, getting comfortable and closing your eyes to enjoy the pleasure. Elizabeth's attentive eyes watch her movements, how her body relaxes before forcing her tongue to move faster. Another sharp kiss. Sally throws her head back with a groan as Elizabeth's lips wrap around her clitoris, gently sucking on it.

Her legs wrap around Elizabeth's toned back to catch on to something, anything.

Even the lightest fingertips make her shudder. A light, dancing touch on her thighs, Elizabeth stroking her skin. It's electrifying.

Elizabeth's kisses on Sally's clitoris, her eyes fixed on Sally—just one look could make her melt into a puddle. Lustful, loving and impatient.

– I really like just listening to your voice and moans.

Sally's lips tighten in one of those moans when Elizabeth's tongue returns to her sweet spot. Nodding, Sally lowers her head on her raised hand, swaying her hips and involuntarily pressing against the Countess's mouth. Part of her desire is for her hands to be untied to keep a beautiful woman sucking on her clitoris. The rest of her, a much greater part, succeeds in letting go of control and putting herself at Elizabeth's mercy. Who better to take care of her?

Elizabeth proves it. She reaches for the bottle of lube she brought earlier, but not without lifting her mouth to meet Sally's gaze

Elizabeth's gaze is too sincere for Sally to ignore, and unwittingly, the fantasies that come to Sally when she is alone flash through her mind. She feels her face starting to warm up.

Sally bites her lip.

You can't beat around the bush with Elizabeth, and maybe that's one of the things Sally loves about her the most.

– We'll try a little bit and we can stop whenever you want.

Elizabeth smiles. She starts to lubricate her finger.

–You could have mentioned it once or twice.– she teases.

The smile on Sally's face softens. She watches Elizabeth's finger approach, calming her nerves. Elizabeth's free hand reaches for Sally's face, cupping her cheek.

She's ready. This is indicated by her nod, and she inhales deeply as part of Elizabeth's finger slides into her. It's slow and careful. It's like Sally has never had sexual partners at all and this is her first time.

– Relax.

The movements of Elizabeth's tongue and finger are simultaneously stunning. Sally's legs and thighs tremble from the onslaught of pleasure, shaking from head to toe. Her hips are getting heavier, her breathing is getting faster—it's almost enough to make her dizzy.

However, by the time she's practically choking on pleasure, she's overwhelmed with embarrassment as she reaches the limit, barely able to handle so many things at once.

–Uh, Elizabeth, I think...Ngh, wait a minute.

And Elizabeth does it quickly, her finger slips out of Sally, and her mouth ends with a final kiss on Sally's clitoris. She looks at her questioningly

– All this is cool, of course. But you pulled that damn tie too tight. My hands went numb. Untie me. – Makenna commands.

Elizabeth reaches over Sally's head to untie her tie, stroking the place where the skin came into contact with the fabric. All this time, Sally is trying to catch her breath.

– You don't think anything like that, I'm thrilled about it, honestly, but I want to focus on you in the end.

– In any case, this is my miscalculation. Elizabeth says, her arms wrapping around Sally's body, pulling her into an embrace. A hand strokes Sally's head, followed by a kiss.

– I take it I should continue?

Sally nods. It doesn't take her long to relax. burrowing into her shoulder with a grateful grunt. Her heart calms down, and soon all she can wonder is why she became so sensitive in the first place.

Sally is now lying completely free, Elizabeth's fingers and tongue continue their actions. But soon it becomes not enough for her, and by the small hints that her body is able to show, she asks for more. Elizabeth understands, she always understands and adds a second finger.

Sally moans long. Her hips swing up and down, she is already close, but she tries to stretch her pleasure as long as possible. Elizabeth's movements become faster and eventually Sally reaches her peak, making a hoarse pornographic moan.

– This..It was fucking awesome, the ghost says, trying to catch his breath.

– I know. – the Countess says.

It was also exhausting. She lies down next to Sally and hugs her.

– I think we need to take a shower.

– Wait at least five minutes, darling. Elizabeth grins.

– Only next time. The Countess purrs. – You'll be on top

____________________________________

Hope you liked it, dear requestor

[surnumanaja]

Thanks you @saltforsalt for tagging! Since tumblr is acting weird aboud filtered word posts right now, i had to copy this from an e-mail.

Favourite colour: would it be kinda douche to say 'prev' now? Because 💚💜

Currently reading: the reading and to read pile is still embarrassingly big 😬

Favorite reading topic: Hmmmm? Mythology, folklore, and necromancy theory

Last song: okay I'm right now listening this one playlist I made, so the last three songs have been "Raua needmine", "Ainult unustamiseks" (Smilers), "Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me" (U2)

Last series: hmmm Witcher? No, it was Good Omens

Last movie: hmmmmmmmmmmm i think it was Barbie?

Working on: well im always necromancing the dead as you do. but fic-wise? Well I did write that one resolution for my dai oc only to find a major plothole and that it all sank into it. (My deepest condolences to my friend whom i made to read it) Then there this that one comics strip that is waiting for..... Idk me to develope coherent style or something? Oh not to mention there are also two different animatics... *Taps on head* it's all porridge and cabbages up here!😌

I tag: @isthisabattleship, @codexxgigas, @pingviinikerma

[fitzrove]

Complaining about fanfic trends (the treatment of F/F vs M/M specifically). This will probably come off very petty. Also, related to smut, so mentions of explicit content ahead...

The corpus of fanfic borne out of the Goncharov meme is so telling to me re: a wider phenomenon that has bugged me for a long time. This is a fandom where it's 100% invented characters and invented storylines - all that is commonly agreed on is a rough list of characters, among whom are a F/F ship (Katya and Sofia) and a M/M ship (Andrey and Goncharov). There should be literally no difference in how the ships are treated - one set of characters is not written differently than the other in canon, because CANON HAS NEVER BEEN WRITTEN. But immediately, two very separate trends emerge in fic. Take a look at the stats on ao3:

Goncharov/Andrey (207 fics in total)

Katya/Sofia (257 in total)

For once, there are more F/F fics than M/M fics in a fandom. But yet, the proportion of mature and explicit works out of the entire corpus is totally different across the ships. For the M/M ship, mature works form 17,8% of the entire body; for F/F, it's 15,9%. For explicit fics it's 8,2% for the guys and 3,5% for the girls. A noticeable difference!

When you look closer at the tags, you will find that the M/M fic (especially the explicit stuff) deals with considerably heavier and kinkier stuff. You have BDSM, toxic relationships, lots of enemies to lovers. The F/F fic is mostly tenderness and yearning... (Also some threesomes with a guy as a third.) This also seems like a trend in the wider characterisation of the relationships in fic across the board as well as tumblr posts - A/G is an enemies to lovers relationship with a lot of passion and tension, while K/S is soft and tender.

... Which is completely okay! People write what they want, and evidently, the people hard at work writing fic (but in actuality worldbuilding and characterbuilding from scratch!) want to write the stuff I've described. It's not up to outsiders to police what others write, fanfic is a hobby.

BUT STILL. I'm fucking starving 🤣🤣🤣🤣 Why are the wlw ships in fandom always either 1) background decorations 2) soft, sweet and pure 3) not really focused on the relationship but rather wider angst related to trauma (and usually trauma related to men). (I know it isnt actually always like this - the Rebecca fandom for example is doing great ajfjkskd.)

Can't I just want to read about absolutely toxic women being horrible to one another all on their own 😭😭 Or idk, just something super kinky. It's so frustrating that the trends centered around wlw ships always lean in the same tender direction EVEN WHEN NOTHING IN CANON POINTS THAT WAY. The tenderness isn't even earned a lot of the time!!! They don't even almost die due to their own mistakes!!!!!! They just meet and are very sweet about it. And like, I get the appeal of such stories, and I even enjoy them, but it's so frustrating when you want to read something toxic and it doesn't exist. 🤣 I would write more myself but none of my fandoms have those ships prebuilt and genderbends don't necessarily find a broad audience. So I just write and read M/M and occasionally lose my mind over an awesome F/F fic if I can find one. 😅

[moonjxsung]

Okay i almost remain dead on tumblr because of so much shit going on in my life LIKE I HAVEN'T EVEN SENT YOU A SINGLE ASK AFTER BECOMING 🐇anon like😞😞😞😞

BUT I AM HERE POOKS TO DROP THE MOST DRAMA-ING DRAMA THAT HAS EVER DRAMA-ED IN MY ENTIRE LIFE.

T/W: mentions of sa

Okay so i had a crush on this one girl(I'm a girl) a year ago, like a very bad obsession idk why😭 and like i got to know that she was like fully lesbian so that increased my hopes(I'm bi). I started talking to her through insta dms and slowly our relationship became a very friendly one.

One day outta nowhere, i confessed, like it was very impulsive. She took it quite nicely too but she did not reciprocate that time. After a week or so she texted me outta nowhere saying that she would like to go on a date, i was all jumping and screeching and giggling and whatnot😭😭😭. So we kinda tagged along for almost 2 days before we realised that this was not gonna work out and honestly yes, i didn't feel the same spark anymore. So we decided to remain as good friends *loud sigh*

Now, after that, we negligibly talked or met, but we were still in contact and i didn't feel anything about her anymore, life went smoothly until August(this whole thing started in January 2023). So we had a function at school during mid August and me and her had taken part in the performances, different that is. So we met like everyday in the auditorium and we really became close AND I KID YOU NOT WHEN I SAY THAT I STARTED CATCHING FEELINGS YET AGAIN. It was her, me and 2 other friends who hung out in the free time given to us.

So we started platonically flirting with each other and idk why she was reciprocating it like it obviously made me happy but it still made me confused and nervous. This whole situationship sort of thing went up till January of 2024, ik it sounds crazy but wait till you hear the crazier part.

One day while texting at night, things became intimate and she started telling her "darkest secret" to me and it turned out that she apparently had an ex with whom she was still in contact AND HER EX THAT TIME HAD A BF. CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW TOXIC THIS IS?!'?'!'?!?(;(?:!! She told me all this herself and apologized to me because she might've been leading me on the whole time and had her heart still fixated on her ex. For some reason, the conversation felt sad that time so i sympathized with her and that was definitely wrong on my part. Now something even more mind boggling happened after that.

So there's this junior at our school, she was good friends with my crush and kinda knew about our situation AND apparently as my crush told me, that junior had been spreading rumours about us two being in a fwb relationship 💀💀💀💀LIKE BRO. The rumours didn't spread much and everything became fine later on. After all that happened, that junior started following me on Instagram. And around the end of January 2024, she told me about the toxicity and extremely disturbing things about my ex crush, blew my mind and took away my sleep for 1 week.

Apparently my ex crush had been blackmailing her ex and forcing her to be with her(my ex crush) and that she even had sexually assaulted her during mid 2023. Me ex crush's ex was that junior's ex too(mind blowing ik) and that junior was still pretty close with her so she knew everything that had happened to her(my crush's ex) and told me everything.

All of a sudden everything made sense and i started seeing the actual scene here, every dot connected and every lie she told me came to light. I feel like i spent time with an actual demon the whole time and it still haunts me. My heart goes out to her ex, hope she's doing okay.

As for me, i am doing good and have been pretty busy with life, i cut my ex crush off from all platforms.

This was so random but i felt like i needed to tell someone about this😭😭😭😭

Thanks cutie for reading, love you so so so much🫶🏻🫶🏻✨🎀🎀

-🐇anon

Ohhhhh the way I thought this was a cute wholesome story at the start and then it just……. changed 😀

THIS IS INSANE?????? First of all the way she was deadass leading you on while knowing she wasn’t interested and was fully set on another person…. Girl 😭😭😭😭 why is it always wlw relationships where that will happen to you LMFAOOOOAOWOSOS trust me when I say you’re not alone in that happening to you

And then the part about her manipulating her ex????? Hello??????????????? I hope for her ex’s sake that she cut her off and she’s taking precautions to both stay away from her and make sure she’s safe ☹️ that is so so devastating that people can be so manipulative even after a relationship’s already ended. I hope she has the support she needs right now ☹️

Lastly how are YOU doing omg this is so much to take in and it’s been going on so long I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling???? Take care of yourself bby and please know that I’m here for you if you need anything at all 🫶💘 people can be so shitty

[remix-of-your-guts]

insisting that you're 'literally trans' over and over sounds kind of like the terf line about how everyone's non binary, so given that and your post history it looks really suspicious

okay i legit can't tell if this is bait or something because?? what???? i said i was "literally trans" one time because someone asked if radfems reblogging my post meant i agreed with their beliefs and i chose to interpret their question in good faith so i gave a legit answer. i haven't bothered to respond to a single comment from obvious terfs because im not into giving them the time of day.

i'm not sure how me simply existing as a trans individual is agreeing with the argument that terfs make to try and erase the existence of us that "everyone is basically nonbinary because gender isn't psychological at all it's just what's in your pants" (im assuming that's the line you're talking abt and if not then idk what that is) and that's frankly a bizarre leap to make. especially because i don't even call myself nonbinary, im just a genderqueer (as in my gender is inseparable from my queerness) transsexual man.

and just what the hell is suspicious about my post history? i've been posting about trans rights and trans-inclusive feminism since i started this blog, though i can't guarantee every hot take i've had on incredibly niche intra-community discourse aligns with my current beliefs (which mostly boils down to "internet discourse is stupid" and idc)

i don't understand the phrasing here as though i'm fighting widespread accusations of transphobia or transmisogyny when this is literally the first comment i've ever gotten insinuating something like that??? of course that's not including the terfs saying "so close bestie" right before calling me a "retarded tra" but since when do we base our claims of who is and is not a terf on what the terfs themself say, instead of what the person in question has actually said/done? plus making fun of how im "close but missing the point" because i said that a trans woman may have a bit of internalized misogyny is hardly saying i clearly agree with everything they stand for (in fact it's fundamentally about the fact that i dont). if thats what you consider being claimed by terfs, and if being claimed by terfs is what you consider the deciding factor in whether or not someone is one, then basically every blogger who's ever mentioned general feminism, periods, or being a woman on this website would be a terf (even trans femmes cuz ive seen posts from them accidentally get passed around terf circles without them knowing who op is). especially every transmasc on this website would be a terf then considering that they're so bizarrely determined to get us to join them while being violently bigoted against us and dehumanizing us (obv not to the extent of trans women but still it's hardly an effective recruitment tactic) and allying with the people that explicitly want our extermination.

i'd once again like to remind everyone that all i did was point out a woman who happens to be trans accidentally veering into perpetuating misogynistic stereotypes (something that i will call out even quicker when cis women do it, which they do all the fucking time) in a way that made it clear it wasn't a big deal and expecting no one except my followers (which i'm pretty confident in saying none of whom are at least obvious terfs) to see. hopefully we can all agree that trans women are not immune to accidentally perpetuating misogynistic stereotypes- not because of their gender but in spite of it because all women can be misogynistic because MISOGYNY 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏 STORED 👏 IN 👏 THE 👏 GENDER

and for the record even in the tags of the og post i was saying that it's really sucky that people totally are going to overreact to this and give dylan disproportionate hate because there 100% is a double standard in how society at large responds to these things, and that terfs are going to use it as "proof." but i don't think that just because accusations of misogyny are often weaponized against trans women we can never engage in good faith criticism of them??? in fact i think that makes it very important to help each other make sure there isn't any grain of truth terfs can latch onto (by which i mean being conscious of misogynistic patterns for everyone in our community, including anyone who considers themself an ally to trans people, not unfairly policing just trans women).

however obviously i regret making the post now since it clearly just encouraged the transmisogyny hate-train. and has caused my asks and notes to be flooded with transphobic bullshit directed at dylan, obviously, but also at myself. seriously, i've been deleting all the anons that are from terfs (like ive always done cuz they've targeted me before) but it's been some nasty shit. and it's really fucking annoying having to block every one that crawls over here to tell me why i'm apparently retarded for being trans and supporting my trans sisters. (sorry about the r slur- their words not mine)

okay done talking abt this forever now

[everything-is-crab]

Sorry about that. I didn't really think that it would be suspicious for an anon to sent facebook links. I totally understand your concerns.

Do you know Deepika Narayan Bhardwaj? She's an mra who made documentaries like Martyrs of Marriage and India's sons. The person I mentioned reblogged a post from her about Shikhar Dhawan and Aesha Dhawan while tagging it as "How greedy bourgeois woman can ruin life of man".

I know it sounds simple but what actually annoyed me were the comments to that post and how she responded to it. Men saying things like "most women are like this" and her responding with "yes comrade, women in bourgeois society care only about money" and such. This isn't the first time she's made posts like this. She was the one who actually introduced me to marxist feminism and seeing her turn into this way was disappointing.

A lot of political discourse about feminism or marxism in our country is dominated by upper castes and classes but I'm willing to listen still, which is why I kept following her eventhough she's been making misogynistic posts for a long time.

I actually do read and enjoy works of Urmila Pawar, Anuradha Ghandy, Shoma Sen, Anand Teltumbde and I'd definitely look at the works of those whom you mentioned.

I'm probably boring you by now and I guess I come across as an idiot so I'll stop. I won't bother you anymore. Again, I apologize for sending that link.

Yeah sometimes links are often disguised and can be ip grabbers or other form of malware. And even then I couldn't see what you sent cause I don't have fb account. You don't need to apologize and you can send me an ask without anon on (I won't publish) and we can talk through DMs if you want. Or you can continue sending anons. I don't have an issue. You're not bothering me dw. Everytime I get an ask like this from an Indian leftist feminist I get excited so you're not boring me and you're definitely not an idiot. It's okay really <3

You're already brighter than most men and yet you're feeling so underconfident. Try to resist that.

And ik her! (Deepika whatever) YouTube wouldn't stop pushing her videos on my feed and so I looked into them and just 🤢🤢

What a class traitor. And the fact I have come across so many such women irl. And that case is just vile. Like wtf. These people always want to blame women for everything. If he had sm problem of being away from his son, then maybe he should have taken up some domestic duties himself lol. But men confine women to a certain role in marriage. And when it backfires they cry and blame them.

And she was a Marxist feminist and then turned to MRA rhetoric? Wow that's new. And you're right, it is dominated by the privileged sections of society. You don't have to listen to such extreme bigoted people. Does she really understand Marxism feminism at all if she thinks it's women who are economically greedy in capitalist system? Maybe you were right, it's just for clout. Sorry you had to see that.

And I am glad you're reading their work! You are already very smart idk why you're so anxious about yourself. I am glad you sent me that and this ask :)

[anthonyed]

soulmate au: where your soulmate’s name is written on your skin [part 3]

[part 1] [part 2]

One thing keeps running in his mind; Stevie’s out on a mission.

He’s red in face, damp hair clinging all over and the sheet beneath him is soaked in sweat. It has barely been half an hour since he laid down, and he didn’t at all mean to sleep. Sleep hasn’t been on his mind. Not, when he can survive without it.

But his body betrayed and dragged him down over that one line that he dreaded and now he has decades of pain bursting out of his pores with a sludge for a mind.

And Stevie is out on a mission.

Clenching his fists in a feeble attempt to contain his shaking, he sits up.

His eyes immediately go to that blinking red light in the ceiling's corner.

He’s been told that it’s some sort of surveillance camera. Not meant to spy but is there, dormant, to only intervene when something that necessitates intervention happens.

James wasn’t entirely convinced about it. But he’d just been invited to bunk in someone else’s home for free with free food and safety. He wasn’t entirely on the side to get fussy and complain about things.

Besides, he had Stevie.

Now in his absence, the paranoid is acting up. Suspicions climb higher walls and his skin is prickling with the need to rip that surveillance camera off its wall.

He’s sliding his fists beneath his thigh to keep himself from reaching for anything to encourage that vandalising thought when three steady knocks reverberated the bedroom door.

His senses shift focus, momentarily distracted by the red light overhead as they scream at what or who could be behind that door.

He bites hard on the inside of his lower lip, contemplating what to do – it’s his first time being without Stevie. Alone. When an entirely too familiar voice speaks up, “James, it’s me,” and all his senses go limp, almost purring in the overwhelming comfort it brings.

His feet tremble when they touch the floor and he has to reach for support to get some kind of bearing.

Outside, Anthony’s voice rises with worry. “James?”

And he wants to say he’s fine. That he’s alright and it’s just that – Just that. He just, cannot stand up.

But how embarrassing is that.

Then, Anthony says, “I’m coming in, okay.” And the sheer thought of his soulmate catching him in this pathetic state sends him sinking down in the mattress. Wet sheets curling uncomfortably around his palms as he supports himself upright and he bites down an ashamed groan.

What is wrong with him?

“Hey. Hey? Look at me.”

Brown eyes wide and earnest, demanding for his attention. And James gives. Unfractured. Because Anthony deserves everything, whole.

“How’re you feeling?” He asks. His too rough fingers skating across James’ stubble covered jaw and cheek as he cups his face in place and looks up at him. At only him. From his place, with his knees on his floor – when he should be tall. When James should be the one grovelling at his feet, because Anthony deserves more.

Because James isn’t whole.

He’s fragments of broken something. One of two pieces of them and he can never attached only those two and pretend to be complete.

He can never be complete.

That’s the sickening truth of his story.

But for Anthony, his soulmate, he grunts. Something akin to a positive response, to indicate that he’s alright.

Since his tongue is still stuck on the roof of his mouth from the shame that rattles his core and now he can’t even look into Anthony’s eyes.

The hands around his face doesn’t waver. The grip remains grounding yet gentle as the skin under his eyes prickle from looping circles being rubbed around it.

“Wanna watch a movie with me?”

“I remember my mother’s hot chocolate recipe and I maybe a few years too rusty but I’ll make it good.” Anthony whispers.

Their foreheads touching and James willingly leans into it. A short graze of skin on skin – up and down – is all the answer that he can manage for the question.

-

“I think we have all the ingredients for it...,” Anthony muses as they ride the elevator together. James silent by his side, but sufficiently calmed by the contact of their fingers intertwined together.

“You have everything you need, boss.” The blinking red light quips and James shoots it a suspicious look.

At his side, Tony hums in satisfaction, giving a tiny squeeze to James’ hand. “Thanks, baby girl.” He smiles upwards, eyes closed in serenity which puts a little smile on James’ face.

He never understood the red light. He knows that it’s capable of thinking by itself. A form of intelligence. An artificial one, according to Stevie.

Which, his soulmate brought to life. Something unfeasible at that time, but he proved everyone wrong. It makes James swell in pride.

But it doesn’t make him explicitly trust the product. Even if it was Anthony’s creation, James struggles with trusting in general and it’s simply, tough. What more when he cannot even begin to understand how it functions.

However, as long as it keeps making Anthony smile, James thinks, he can start somewhere with the trust.

-

In the communal floor, Anthony sets to work in the kitchen while James resists the urge to hang by the hem of his shirt and follow every footstep and sits at the dining table.

He lets his eyes follow instead.

From the stretch and flex and riding of material up tanned skin.

He watches Anthony work the stove, jittery on his feet as he hums under his breath and measures and mixes all the ingredients he gathered on the counter.

James lets his head fall on the table, cushioning it with the fold of his arms as his eyes slide half close. “I’m sorry about killing your parents.” He relieves that’s been on his mind for so long.

Something clatters onto the floor as Anthony comes to a sudden halt. A whisper of curse fleeting through the air before he picks up the utensil and runs it under the water, rinsing.

“I remember it without the weight of emotion. I’m not sure about how I exactly feel about it but I’m sorry.” He frowns at the stiffening of Anthony’s back. “I’m sure once I’ve figured out all the emotions and stuffs, I’ll be more sorry but for now -,”

“Doesn’t matter.” Anthony turns. The tight smiles on his face failing to match the wild haggardness in his sunken eyes.

James clenches his fists, the discomfort of his soulmate bearing down on his shoulders as he lifts his head up, straightening up in his seat. “It looks like it does.”

The utensil in Anthony’s grasp slips again and lands with another loud clang. Anthony closes his eyes, breathing out another swear word.

His entire body begins to tremble then. Which is probably why James stands up in autopilot, closing in to his soulmate, seeking and wanting to give comfort.

“I’m sorry.” He says, cupping Anthony’s cheeks and bringing their foreheads together. Inhaling the air in between their space.

He’s not sure what he’s apologizing for now.

Is it for his parents’ death or for putting Anthony in this tortured position?

He doesn’t know.

Either way, “I’m sorry.” He murmurs, stroking the apple of Anthony’s cheeks. Round and round in small circles, wishing his soulmate will let him in. Let him take care of him.

Make him feel better.

The front of his shirt is fisted and he’s pulled in closer as a small shudder of exhale fans across James’ face. Their cheeks meet as Anthony nuzzles into him. “I’m okay” He whispers back shakily. Circling James’ wrist with his fingers and rubbing at its pulse point with his thumb. “We’re okay. We’ll move on.” He nods against James, breath stuttering when he inhales and exhales.

It is then when something hisses and sizzles in the background and at once, Anthony pushes away in alarm.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. It’s boiling. Shit!”

James struggles a little to wrap his head around the sudden shove and panic. His fist clenching and unclenching at his sides minutely until a warm brush of skin skids pass, spreading calm through his artificial nerves.

Anthony’s still dancing around with nervous energy as he stirs the pot on the counter. Free hand reaching for the scattered ingredients and he mumbles consistently under his breath.

But with each millisecond pause in between cleaning and salvaging the beverage, he reaches out for James. Allowing tiny brushes of skin against metal and sometimes lingering, even in his distraction.

James heart swells dangerously in his chest.

-

They’re curled up on the couch after. When the hot chocolate is done and the television is playing something that Anthony thought James will find enjoyable but, all James can think about is the weight over half of his left side where his soulmate is curled into a ball.

“I forgot how bad the CGI was in the 90s” he murmurs. Completely unaware of what he’s doing to James.

Just by snuggling with his metal arm. Something that has been installed as a weapon for the winter soldier, to aid with his mission; in murders. And here he is – a ball of light, James’ personal haven - wrapped warm and soft around it like he doesn’t even care about the mass of sin lodged in between each silver plate.

James wants to shake him off. Shift him so he’s on the right. Not on the wrong side.

For Anthony is a whisper of purity wrapped around hell and that is not proper at all.

But hells likes the taste of heaven.

For all the cold that surrounds the metal, it thrives from the warmth and heat that Anthony willingly gives and James – He, aches for it.

It’s wrong, but it feels so right that he can’t keep his eyes and mind off of his soulmate.

“You don’t mind the arm?” He whispers over dark curls, lips brushing over soft strands which he leans into until his mouth’s pressed over them.

Anthony hums, leaning into him in return. “It’s a part of you.” He says easily. Like he’s never ever been bothered by it. Even once.

James struggles to breathe. “What are you doing to me?” He murmurs his thought out aloud, unbeknownst to himself.

The chatter from the television comes to a sudden stop. Two vertical line appearing stark white at the top left corner when James looks up. “What do you want me to do you?” Anthony asks, whisper soft, looking up at him.

James’ throat spasms shut, then opens and he swallows audibly. “Everything.” He breathes out honestly. Flesh fingers reaching to brush away the curls fallen over Anthony’s forehead and he follows his gut, pressing a kiss over the stretch of exposed skin.

Anthony shudders in his hold. “If I ask you out for dates?”

“I’ll say yes.”

“If I ask you to kiss me…,”

“I’ll say yes.” James answers without a hesitation.

Anthony closes his eyes and breathes. When he blinks open, a new kind of vulnerability is etched along those golden specks littered across his big brown eyes. “And if I ask you to stay.” He asks softly.

James tips his head up, holding his gaze, “Then I’ll stay.” He whispers faithfully. “But I can’t do all the others when you have Ms Potts.” He shakes his head, heart aching in his chest. “Not when you’re both engaged. It’s wrong.”

“What?” Anthony jerks away, peeling himself off of James’ side without warnings. “I’m not engaged –,” He protests before realization dawns upon him. “Have you been reading the gossip columns, James?” He squints at him.

“It was on the news.” James frowns at the where he’s still connected with Anthony; his left arm.

Anthony sinks back with a groan, head tipping backwards into James’ shoulder, his body back to pinning half of James’ like it had been before and James allows himself to breathe again, in relief at the weight of his soulmate.

Anthony curls all his metal fingers into a fist. “They lie.” He says, uncurling the trigger finger. “Rule number one on living in this century, snowflake, is to never trust the media as it is.” His thumb runs along James’ index absently.

James spreads out all his fingers and link them with his soulmates’. Half of him feeling nauseated looking at the way wrong envelopes all the rights in the world; evil intertwined with goodness, while the other half of him cannot help but be enthralled by it.

Anthony curls further into him, head tucking beneath James’ chin as he squeezes James’ hand, smiling dopily when he looks up at him. James stutters, “Wh- What’s the second rule?” He asks, drinking in their proximity – something warm coiling deep within his lower belly.

“The second rule -,” Anthony inhales shakily, his eyes fleeting downwards and James realizes where he’s looking at, his own gaze following Anthony’s lead, dropping to pink lips longingly. “The second rule,” Anthony repeats, much closer than he’s been before.

Too close. And James gives in to the thrill of wants pounding inside him, ducking his head, just a smidge away and –

“The second rule is you kiss me.” Anthony whispers, snapping the final thread between them. Blinking widely when he pulls back after just a peck, much to James’ frustration.

So he drops all his worries and doubts and presses his mouth over Anthony’s. Soft and slow at first then increasingly coaxing until they part and he swipes a hot tongue into the space between his soulmate’s mouth, licking in, getting a taste of him – just a tease, before he pulls away, smirking when Anthony follows, “And you kiss me back.” He brushes a thumb over the swell of Anthony’s bottom lip.

To his delight, his soulmate snorts, before giving into a fit of giggles, leaning into him – spreading warmth and happiness all over and James smiles endlessly, pressing his lips over the mess of curls tucked beneath his chin.

He’s wrong. He knows. He can never be complete. He’s aware.

But he has a soulmate who wants him for him – the way he is; broken and scared and covered in sins.

A soulmate who wants him to stay. And stay, James will. Until Anthony throws him away, James will stick by him, give him everything he has and makes sure nothing else matters over him.

[valberryy]

oh, eurydice (it's an awful sound). — venti

de l'autre côté de l'eau, comme un écho. / tu dis que c'est la fin du monde, c'est ton silence mon eau profonde.

um,, idk what to say cause i dont want this to b my venti summoning post but. anyways. also tagging @starfell-traveler look i finished it!!!! b proud of me /hj

pairing: venti x gn!reader

content warnings: mentions/descriptions of alcohol & blood/injuries, major character death, it's just heavy angst i'm sorry

one.

Venti still remembers the first time he heard you laugh, warm and clear and bright, like the chiming of cathedral-bells.

In those golden days when he was getting used to his new face, he often found himself wandering—much to the chagrin of his friends. If he wasn't in one of the many taverns of the newly-built Mondstadt, he was wandering these new, free lands.

And that was how he met you, the spritely scion of house Gunnhildr, who had strayed away from your envoy with a bottle of wine and leaves in your hair. He noted the mischief dancing in your eyes, the sunlight dappling on your skin, the way your mouth formed a small "o" when you saw you were not alone.

Your eyes had lit up when you caught sight of him. "Oh, my lord!" you called, "Fancy a cup and a chat, perhaps?"

Venti stood still for a moment to ponder your request, but at the sound of you popping the cork off the bottle and pouring it into a cup you had brought, he found his resolve weakening. He took a seat next to you as you pulled a stray leaf from your hair, taking a sip from your cup before passing it to him.

How brazen of you, he mused.

While cherry wine, in his opinion, could never hold a candle to the dandelion wine he had grown fond of, it tasted all the sweeter coming from you.

You had laughed at this sentiment of his, clear as the water from the lake nearby. "Is that so?" you asked. "Perhaps I'll bring some more of this kind especially for you, dearest bard."

Venti responded with a playful pluck at his lyre-strings. "I'd prefer if you called me by my name, young master Gunnhildr."

"And what would that be?"

Just as he was about to respond, the two of you caught wind of voices yelling out your name, and you flinched. "That must be for me," you said. "I shouldn't have expected to be able to hide forever."

He helped you stand, stretching out his arm to pull you up—your hand was soft and warm against his own, and the "thank you," that rolled from your lips made his heart flutter in a way he wasn't used to.

"I'd love to see you again," you said, and he smiled.

"You talk as if this is goodbye forever!" Venti joked. "We can meet here again, if you so wish."

"Then it is done," you said, and squeezed his hand as if in confirmation of your new arrangement.

And with the lightest press of your wine-stained lips to his cheek, you had run off without another word—only the sound of your distant laughter and, "Sorry, sorry! I'm back now, mother!" left in your wake.

two.

That promise had soon become habit, and habit a new way of life—one wherein you would sneak away from the rest of your family to rendezvous with Venti in the forest, to share wine and song and sweet, honeyed words alike.

(And as time wore on, you pressed your wine-stained lips to more places than just his cheek, and the cheeky bastard would have you do it again, and again, and again.)

"What d'you reckon your family would say if they figured out you were sneaking away for this?" Venti mused, "Like a hero in a romance novel."

With a laugh, you lay your head over his lap and smiled when his hand came to rest in your hair, his fingers gently playing with the strands. "Scold me, I suppose," you said. "There are worse fates than not being allowed outside for a month, my love." 

You plucked a stray dandelion out of his hair, blowing the seeds to the wind. 

"Hmm? And what would those be, I wonder?"

"...You're so infuriating, Venti," you grumbled, and he simply laughed and took another sip of wine—elderflower this time, tasting like spring upon his tongue. "I can't even dare imply that I want to be with you forever without you teasing me for it—what kind of lover are you? Hmph."

He paused, a teasing grin growing on his lips despite your previous words. "Are you asking me to marry you?"

An odd noise left your throat. "I mean," you said, "unless you want me to take your surname instead? ...Now that I think about it, Venti Gunnhildr doesn't quite sound the best."

A laugh, first from him, soon followed by one of your own. "Your family won't allow it, would they? But if the fates allow…there's nothing I'd love more than to be with you," he said. Gently he untangled his fingers from your hair, weaving his fingers between your own instead. "That is, if you want it too?"

A world of just you and him, a life where he would never have to stray far from your side—perhaps this was what Amos so desperately craved for, in those days. Venti watched as you removed the signet ring from your pointer finger and fit it snugly on his own, admiring your handiwork and smiling up at him.

"I wouldn't have it any other way."

three.

Somehow it felt odd to see you in clothes other than the casual attire he had always seen you in. When you were seated upon your horse like this, dressed in richly-dyed leathers and embroidered silks with your family crest hanging proudly from your breast pocket, you seemed much less like the cheeky [Name] that would pluck his lyre from his hands to play your own tune, and more like the young scion of house Gunnhildr that the rest of the world saw you as.

"I'm sorry, dearest," you said, your voice thick with regret. "They only told me about this last night, so I've had no time to tell you… And father wouldn't let me refuse, so—"

Venti laughed, "When did you become such a worrywart? It's only one round of hunting, right? I'll be waiting for you back here."

You huffed, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Then I'll be sure to hurry on back to you."

He pulled you back down for another kiss, square on the lips this time, before letting you go. "Don't miss!" he said, calling after your horse, to which you turned and yelled back at him,

"If I do, it's your fault!"

He laughed, settling down beneath a tree and closing his eyes. You'd be there to wake him when you returned.

When Venti awoke, it was not to your hand shaking his shoulder but to a thud and the worried whinnying of a horse. His eyes snapped open as you groaned, one hand clutching your stomach and the other propping you up. When you caught his gaze you smiled weakly, too much blood in your teeth and not enough light in your eyes.

"I'm back, dearest," you said, and he had stumbled over to catch you before your arm gave out.

He pressed down on your torso, where three large gashes ran down from your chest down to your stomach, large and jagged as if from the claws of a bear. You groaned in pain and he pressed a kiss to your hand in apology, your skin pale and clammy in a way that reminded him too much of harsh, cold winds and a boy with his lyre. 

"You should've seen me, Venti," you breathed, "I shot it right in the throat…are you proud of me?"

"Very," he said. "I'll always be proud of you."

You laughed, broken and pained and sad. "Good," you said, "good." Then you looked up at him, the tears welling in his eyes, the reality of his fate—your fate—finally looming upon him. "Don't look at me like that, love," you cooed. "Please, smile for me, okay? Sing for me…can you spare me at least that much?"

His grip on your hand tightened. "All of that and so much more, dandelion," he said. "Please…"

"So much more, huh…" you mused. "Then, how about one last kiss before I go?"

"...You talk as if this is goodbye," he says, but doesn't protest when you pull him down by the collar, your red-stained lips pressing weakly against his—

—But instead of the sweetness of wine, there was only the sharp bitterness of your blood in his mouth.

four.

"How far would you go for me?" was something Venti had thrown around a lot, never expecting you to give him a straight answer—not with how you shoved his shoulder and said, "Just because there wasn't a ceremony doesn't mean I'm not your spouse, Venti. Wouldn't the answer be obvious?"

But he still recalled the first time he had asked you and the first time you answered, your fingers tangled with his and your head buried in the crook of his neck. Your voice had been softer, gentler, lacking the playful edge but just as genuine as always, "From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest to the highest peaks in the sky," you said, "Until my hands wither away into dust."

"Maybe you're the bard instead of me, love," he had said, then.

In this new world without you he found himself clinging to whatever remnants of you he could—the dappled sunlight in the forest, the slightest sting of alcohol going down, the glint of your family crest on the ring that adorned his finger.

One of his many laments was how he could never mourn you in the way he felt you deserved—he had not the power to turn back time, lacked the dominion over anything static and permanent to immortalise you with. He only had his lyre and his voice and his winds, and all he could do was paint the skies grey in his grief, have the gales sing requiems that you would never hear.

From the deepest depths of the ocean to the highest peaks in the sky he would go for you and back—and if the darkest depths of this world contained the secret to getting you back, perhaps even a mere spirit on the wind could bear the trek through the dark. 

(After all, Venti knew in his heart of hearts that you would have done the same for him.)

The heart of the Abyss wasn't a land of mindless bloodshed and fire—it was cold and calculating, like a predator lying in wait. It was this place, in the depths of Teyvat and in the winding depths of their palace, that he knew could somehow bring you back to him. 

"Are you the one for whom the skies wept, bard?"

Venti swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I am," he said. "I want a deal."

The person before him raised an eyebrow, canting their head to the side. 

"One life," they said, "and no second chances."

Cold, and calculating, and inevitable—but still he would try. Venti owed you at least that much, no?

five.

He squeezed your hand as you trailed behind him, muttering to himself: don't look back, don't look back, don't look back. No matter how much he longed to hold you, to see your face and feel your skin beneath his, he kept his gaze to his feet as you both moved onwards into the dark.

(When he saw you again, just as beautiful as the day he lost you, he dropped his lyre to run into your arms, burying his face in the crook of your neck and surrounding himself with only you, you, you. 

"Venti," you said, and he nearly wept at the way his name rolled from your tongue. "Let's go home.")

You squeezed his hand back, so gently that he almost couldn't believe you were really there. "Why don't you sing me a song, dearest?" you quipped. "Anything you like."

In spite of himself, in spite of the cold around him and behind him and in his own hand, he smiled. "Have I ever sung you the one with the mist flower and the sparrow?"

He heard you huff behind him. "That one again? You know how bad I am at hitting the notes in that!"

"Hmm, sure, sounds like an excuse to me…"

"Venti!"

He laughed and squeezed your hand again, as if to remind himself—you were here, and he was taking you home, and you would be able to feel the sun on your skin and taste wine from his cup in the way you had always loved. He would be able to write you songs and guide your hands across his lyre, and he need never stray far from your side.

You need never go somewhere where he couldn't follow.

"We're almost there," he said, resisting the urge to turn around to smile at you. "There's a bottle of wine waiting for us. It wouldn't do us any good to leave it for too long, you know?"

He squeezed your hand again, but you didn't respond.

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. His footsteps hastened, quicker and quicker until he was near-running towards where he knew the surface lay. Had he been tricked? Were you never there all along? Had you gotten lost, or fallen, or left, and left some other person in your stead?

Anxiety clutched at his heart like brambles, and Venti found his mind wandering back to those days with the wintery winds and the friends he had lost to the storms. Not again, he prayed, please, never again.

He ran until his legs ached, ran until the first drop of sunlight finally kissed his skin, and he let go of your hand to turn around—

—to see your face still shrouded in darkness, your eyes wide, your hand still reaching out for him.

"What?" he breathed, "No, please, I can't lose you again—"

You smiled, and though your teeth weren't coated in blood and your body was free from any wounds, Venti's heart had sunk even further than when he had caught you that day. 

"No, love, please, I'm sorry—"

"Venti," you said, "I'll see you again soon, okay?"

"Please—"

"I love you." 

With whatever time you had left, you reached out further to brush the tips of your fingers against his cheek. "Smile for me, okay? Sing me one last song…" 

And before he could reach out to you again, you had once again gone somewhere he couldn't reach. 

(Yours was a song he sang without end, even when all of Mondstadt had forgotten your name—and even when he felt like he didn't deserve to bear your memory. 

On days when he uncorked a bottle of cherry wine or caught the Acting Grandmaster's eye, Venti found himself staring down at the ring you had placed on his finger in those golden days—and if he closed his eyes and pressed his lips to it the way you had done to him, he swears he can still hear your laugh, warm and clear and bright.)

[ladytauria]

Now I'm curious, what theories do you have about the reason Sparx distrust Antauri?

I’ve talkedabout them before here,and here—withanother lovely anon, who got me to really analyze their relationship. So I’mjust gonna summarize all of my theories here so they’re in one place! :D (And Ido have an Antauri + Sprx tag for discussions on their relationship! However Ithink I need to edit the tag to something easier to type in the URL.)

Okay, so in S1and S2, Antauri and Sprx are close. Its not explicitly stated, but I’m comingto realize now that this show does a lotin subtext. (Man, I wish I had been more into analyzing media as a kid. And Iwish I was better about doing it on my own now.) I’ve been mentioning thisscene all the time lately, but I’llmention it again now—the first one that comes to mind is from Snowbound, whenSprx jumps off the Robot and just shares a glance with Antauri to let him knowhe’ll be fighting the ice monster with them. IDK, the moment just gives me thewarm fuzzies. So they start out with that…

And thencomes S3. Specifically, Ghost in the Machinder. The subtext in this one is…basically just text. Sprx says the Super Robot can’t have a soul because it’sjust a machine, and then the rest of the episode is about how Antauri is also amachine now. Fully. No fleshy bits anymore. Antauri of course defends the SuperRobot, Sprx argues with him—and you could say he just missed the point here,still unused to Antauri’s new form—but… even if he recants at the end,Antauri and Sprx seem more strained throughout the rest of S3 and S4. But why? Obviouslywe don’t know for sure, but these are all the theories/reasons I’ve come upwith so far:

Firstone was suggested by an Anon here,and it is honestly something I should have considered but didn’t, so thank youto them for bringing it to my attention! I’ve added things to it, but the barebones was theirs. In the I, Chiro Saga, Chiro goes off to face Skeleton Kingalone, only to have Antauri wake and follow him. He doesn’t wake the others—he justgoes. And when he gets there, he sacrifices himself to the Dark One Worm withseemingly no intention of actually coming back. So I can see where Sprx wouldfeel antagonistic towards him.

Thenyou have the fact that Antauri is a very distant, sagely character who oftenkeeps a blank face and hides what he’s feeling from the rest of the group. Now,he’s in a fully robotic body, and likely has even more control over how hepresents himself to the group. Which adds another layer of distance—but alsoremoves his old tells. I’m sure he has new ones, but they’re re-getting to knowhim in some ways.

Nextup is another theory that came through a discussion with an Anon, because youguys seem to prompt me to really turn over what I remember about the show andhow I interpret the characters. It’s a lot of fun! Anyway. So, this theorydeals with the fact that Antauri wasn’t very close with Chiro in the first 1and a half seasons. In fact, it wasn’t until the I, Chiro saga that we saw any largechanges to their relationship. By this point, Chiro knows of his Chosen Onedestiny and he has begun to accept it more fully… and that’s when Antauri warmsup to him. So, it could be interpreted—wrongly—that Antauri only cares aboutthe Chosen One aspect of things. (I actually subconsciously play with this in “TheCycle Starts Again” though it hasn’t come up yet.) So Sprx is angry on Chiro’sbehalf.

Now,this is one of my favorites because of all the potential fic ideas, but— Sprx isa very pessimistic person who doesn’t trust easily. Or, at least, he comes offthat way—but given the way he acts, I’m willing to believe that’s real. (I alsobelieve that it’s a way of distancing himself to keep from getting hurt, giventhe danger that they’re in and how many times they’ve been betrayed, but that’sanother discussion.) So, my theory is… he believes that Antauri’s return is toogood to be true. Maybe he believes that the real Antauri didn’t come back, andthis is a fake—or maybe he believes that Antauri’s time is finite, that there’sa deadline, and he wants to make their second parting as painless as possible.(Which never works, but emotions aren’t logical.) Maybe he believes Antauri didn’tcome back whole. Whatever it is, his trust in Antauri was broken in some way.

So. Thatcovers Sprx’s side of things—which is a tad bit easier because there are lotsof reasons for him to be angry withAntauri. Antauri’s side is harder, but there are a few options.

Thefirst one is the obvious one. Antauri is hurt that years of trust and respecthave gone down the drain for something he (possibly) can’t control, and he’s lashingout in turn. Because for all his poker face, there is a real monkey down inthere somewhere, and real monkeys get hurt. He’s reacting to Sprx’s anger andhis own hurt.

Thesecond one is that Sprx is right, and Antauri didn’t come back whole. But that’s…not so much a theory as it is an idea for an AU. So it probably doesn’t belongon this list, but… you know, I like it, so it gets to stay :P

Third—andwe go back into actual THEORY territory—is that Antauri doesn’t return Sprx’santagonism. Instead, he felt it directed at him and shut down. There is nothingon Antauri’s side. Not that he doesn’t feel anything, but that he doesn’t letany of it escape, as a sort of shield to protect himself. Because for all thathe advises others, Antauri is really, really bad with emotion. (@youareshauni speculates its because of the Verans (whom she compared to the Jedi Order inthe prequel trilogy, and I agree) training.) So he shuts down. In Fire of Hate,when he’s prepared to take down Sprx? It’s because he would want the others totake down him if he was ever in thatsituation. (Or he’s kind of returning the favor, of when Sprx DID take him down,during Night of Fear.)

Now I dothink that things in S4 are slightly less antagonistic between the two of them.They work together just fine in Evil Ages, after all. But I think they stillhave a way to go before they really have the bond that they had in S1 and S2.