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barnxsromanxff · 5 days ago

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That Night | Josh Washington x reader

| Do not repost any of my writes without credit to me

Pairing: Post prank Josh x f!reader

Prompt: The real events of that night start to reveal themselves as Josh is tied up.

Warnings: implied smut, make out sesh, cussing, crying, slut shaming, emetophobia warning, mentions of death

A/N: So this is kinda angsty? i never really write sad stuff but i wanted to try something new. This one is a bit short, let me know if i should add a part 2! remember requests are open through my inbox, comments or dm me! i hope you enjoy!

Also i’m sorry if it’s not the most game accurate depiction! I tried my best :,)

His hands traced every curve and line on your body, his tongue worshiping your skin. His lips grazing your own. You felt like a goddess as he let your name fall from his lips as a prayer.

His voice, his scent, his body, everything about him was overwhelming your senses. Even with the lights off he had your figure memorized, touching every sensitive spot you had.

His drunken mumbles began to form into a cohesive sentence, “I love you.”

You held onto your coat trying to keep any warmth in, shivering to regulate your temperate. Your gaze rested on his erratic form, his breathing irregular as he screamed out,

“You pussy!”

His exaggerated scream making you roll your eyes, your fingers found there way to the bridge of your nose with you pinched tight.

You pretty much ignored the entire argument, it was getting you all nowhere. You only started paying attention when he mentioned you again,

“Excuse me! Am I boring Miss righteous over here?”

You dead panned at your best friend, no evidence of a smile at all. You stood up and came closer to him,

“Josh, I think i’m speaking for everyone here, shut the fuck up.”

Your sudden outburst shocked the boys but Chris and Mike nodded in agreement. You began pacing the shed, your mind spinning rapidly,

“Why are we even here? This was so stupid,”

You let out a shaky laugh and continued your rant with it slowly turning from an angry cry out to sobs leaving your lips.

“We shouldn’t even be here.”

You repeated, over and over, your hands raking through your disheveled hair. The boys all watched your every move intensely, finally there was silence in the room.

You believed what you said, you were still in denial. Your two closest friends were gone, and it was time for you to realize this.

“Fuck! What the fuck.”

You kicked over a box of old tools, the noise clambering against the wall. You held your body tight, trying to find any form of comfort. Everything was wrong, this wasn’t how it was suppose to be.

“Hey, Come here.”

Chris pulled your body close to his, the heat from his build enveloping yours. He stood there silent, knowing no words would bring any comfort to you.

Everyone knew you were right, but no one had the energy or need to agree.

As he held your body you could hear snickers coming from tied up Josh, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you prepared for his next verbal assault.

“I’m just saying, one heck of a performance. You don’t think I know what really happened that night?”

Your eyes squinted in confusion, for once you wanted him to continue. You stepped away from Chris and felt desperate to hear what he was going to say, you internally slapped yourself as you gestured him to go on with his rant.

“Josh? What are you talking about?”

He scoffed, the look in his eyes full of hatred. He thrashed his body attempting to get out of the tight constraints.

“Whoring yourself for a prank? Pretty low if you ask me, just as bad as good ol’ Mike here.”

Your stomach sank as you begin to realize what he was implying.

“I remember every. single. second. of that night. Too bad I wasn’t there for Beth and Hannah, instead with you.”

You shook your head, your tears continued and you yelled out a ‘No!’

“You took me back there just to distract me, fucked me real good huh? Should’ve known it wasn’t real, out of everyone that night,”

He paused before finally meeting your eyes, the look sending shivers down your spine.

“You, you disgust me. You hurt me the most.”

Mike and Chris exchanged confused looks. No one knew what that night had looked like for you and Josh, that being the one secret you had the power to hold. The one thing not distorted by that evil memory that night holds for you.

It went silent, your mind recalling the events of that night

“Shhhh Josh, they’ll hear.”

You held his hand as he led you away from the group, both stumbling and trying to find your way through the maze of his lodge.

Finally he jiggled with the door knob of his room, letting you in first just to whistle as you entered.

“Been hiding that all this time?”

You hit his chest and immediately went in for a kiss, your hands holding into the chest of his shirt clinging to be as close as possible.

Your kiss deepened, somewhere along the way both your clothes had been quickly discarded as an afterthought.

Josh let out an airy moan as you suckled on his neck, his hands wandering over your naked body.

You giggled and kissed him all over his face, wanting nothing more than to live in this moment forever.

“Josh…”

You sighed and despite the guys disapproving looks you moved closer to him, sitting down on the cold floor near him.

Josh ignored you, his eyes avoiding your ever knowing stare.

“What we did that night, what we said, I haven’t forgotten it.”

You bit your lip trying to find the words to say to this broken man, your eyes watering as you continued barely above a whisper ,

“That night, I wish it could’ve gone differently. I regret almost everything about it,”

You pause as he stares up with you, his eyes flooding with hurt as he took in your words. All the hatred he had for you was gone, and instead heartbreak.

“I don’t regret what we did, I would never regret you. Don’t think I have. I regret not being there for Hannah and Beth, for keeping you away from them. But I don’t regret what we shared.”

Josh kept quiet, but his expression had changed. It seemed like he didn’t know what to think, his mind continued to play tricks on him, he didn’t dare to speak after that.

You wiped the stray tears as you stood up and looked at the boys,

“Now what?”

You three argued over a plan, trying to figure out who would stay to watch Josh and who would go. Finally the decision falling onto you. You look back at Josh who seems defeated, his eyes devoid of emotion.

“I’ll stay here with him. Go with the others.”

Despite their push back the eventually leave, reassuring you they’d be back for you.

Once they leave it’s just you and Josh left in a pitiful silence, almost missing his screaming from earlier,

“Josh, I’m sorry,”

It had been the first time you had said those words to him, saying sorry would just confirm the worst.

“For everything, you didn’t deserve all of this pain. I don’t know why this happened, why they disappeared. I don’t know why you are hurt so badly, and i’m sorry that I don’t know.”

“It’s not your fault, I know that.”

His words were barely audible, but you understood him clearly. Finally, he looks back up to meet your eyes. His eyes were filled with tears, he was breaking down in front of you.

You desperately wanted to untie him, to hold him, but you knew better than that. He was off his medication, unpredictable, and you didn’t want another thing to go wrong tonight.

As the night continued your mind wandered back, replaying the events of that night.

The fire cast a warm light on your bodies, his skin looking like a bronzed gold, his chest rising and falling with every breath. He looked beautiful, just perfect.

“Like what you see?”

You smiled and hummed a yes, planting a kiss on his jaw. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly close to him, not wanting to let go.

“Y’know, I meant what I said. Wasn’t just being crazy romantic for no reason.”

He confessed with his eyes still closed. You blushed recalling his words earlier, thankful it wasn’t just a drunken mistake.

“I know.”

It was his turn to hum in response, pinching your side making you laugh.

“Not gonna say it back?”

You both knew it, you had been smitten for years. His teasing was just because he yearned to hear those words come from you,

“I love you too, Joshua.”

“Every day without a doubt, I remember that night with you,”

Josh’s sudden announcement made your ears perk up, letting your attention turn to him.

“I remember everything about it, your laugh, your voice, your body. I even remember the smell of the tequila that came from you as we ran off together.”

You smile and nodded in agreement, recalling exactly all he was saying.

“It was disgusting, had to keep myself from vomiting during the party.”

For the first time in a long while you heard his hearty laugh, it was different then the one he had been putting up all night. This laugh was all him.

“When we get out of here, we’re gonna help you Josh. I will be there for you.”

Josh nodded as he let the idea creep into his mind, maybe he wasn’t a lost cause? Maybe a future with you would be his saving grace,

“No! Where is he!”

You shoved Mike as he dragged you out of the mines, wincing at every contact you made.

“We have to go back, please. Please Mike!”

You screamed as he ignored you, your eyes being coated in a familiar substance.

“I love him! You have to do something!”

Your pleas go unheard, completely ignored as you’re forced out towards the lodge where you are the rest of the group are rescued.

Everyone in a complete shell shocked state, no words spoken.

The paramedics and police eventually seperate you all, taking you into different rooms for questioning.

“Have you found Josh? You have to be looking for him, in the mines.”

“No miss, we have no other confirmed bodies as of now.”

Bodies. They don’t expect to find anymore survivors, do they? Your face drains of any color as you feel the need to vomit out of disbelief.

He held you all night long, your bodies molded together in perfect unison. You felt safe in his arms, his body warmth lulled you to see as you listened to the best of his heart.

You had waited for this moment for years, pining over Josh. Little did you know, Josh had fallen in love with you long before you, his affection growing day by day.

It was perfect, the entire night was everything you could ever ask for .

As the morning light crept through the windows a knock at your door with a frantic Chris yelling woke you both out of your slumber, changing the rest of your lives forever.

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acequinz · 4 months ago

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Can't believe I haven't shared this already.

But omegaverse hc for DIiFangHua.

Now my headcanons do often change depending on what fic or scenario I am imagining.

Also presents here means how other people view them and not necessarily what they are trying to portray themselves as.

- Li Xiangyi presents as an alpha, he's the "perfect" alpha. The balance is just right in him. He's strong and dependable, he is protective and also has very good control on his base instincts even with his heightened senses.

- Li Lianhua is also an alpha but presents as a beta. His senses are highly muted, which means his own scent is not that strong and while he can still sense and pick up on other people's scent it's not to the level he could as Li Xiangyi and does not work if there's a significant distance between him and others.

- Di Feisheng is an alpha through and through and presents as one too, he purposely mutes specific senses like his own scent while some others a result of well trauma. He can pick up the scents of others just fine and recognise the threat or safety but unlike other alpha's he cannot pick up on more complicated emotions that scents can portray. He presents as everything someone describes as a typical Alpha.

- Fang Duobing is an omega but presents as an alpha or beta. Both his physique and his scent portray him as an alpha unless you get close enough and smell the muted omega pheromones which confuse people enough to consider him a beta. He has a strong scent but his pheromones are still very muted.

Now that the basic is out of the way. Some details on how they themselves view the secondary gender.

- everyone thought Li Xiangyi would present as an Omega until he presented as an alpha due to his physique and artistic nature of his sword style. And as Li Lianhua he does not care a lot for his alpha status and doesn't hesitate to use scent blockers to sometimes present to be an omega if he thinks it would be more convenient

- di Feisheng does not give two fucks about secondary genders, he never answers when there's questions thrown at him about him being an alpha. He can smell it on people but he always disregards it cause he could not care enough.

- fang Duobing is an omega but he doesn't really like it only because his mother uses it as an excuse to not allow him to travel through jianghu and when she finally let's his roam with Li Lianhua it's only with a heavy pack of scent blockers.

Ruts and heats headcanons

- Li Lianhua does not get ruts post bicha poison, well more specifically he does not feel the urge to knot but there are rut periods where he is high strung on emotions and extra snappy.

As Li Xiangyi his ruts were a painful affair because he never took partners afraid he would hurt someone after the first time he tried to physically attack anyone that entered the room to help him.

- Di Feisheng does have ruts but they are strong to the point he barely feels anything except the heightened need to bed someone or the itch under his skin to fight people and bloodthirst.

They are also very irregular and sometimes not coming for a year if he does not find himself to be in a safe environment. The 10 years he spent in the caves healing, he did not have any rut.

- Fang Duobing does not get heats and is unable to conceive. It doesn't mean that he's unable to have the sex, he can be a partner during others ruts or heats- in fact he's the safest option since he himself cannot be pushed into a heat and hence very stable support.

He can't conceive due to the illness he had as a kid, he had one bad heat when he had presented that almost killed him but since then he has never had another heat. However it's only for natural heat, he can go into heat if induced with external methods but he still cannot conceive.

Now some cute ones.

- Fang Duobing totally thinks Li Lianhua is an omega when they first meet and is excited to travel with a fellow omega while Li Lianhua thinks Fang Duobing is a typical strong headed alpha.

- it isn't until Fang Duobing tries to comfort Li Lianhua by sharing his scent that Li Lianhua picks up on the muted omega pheromones and gets very upset at Fang Duobing for a bit before trying to heavily scent mark him in a rush protective Alpha brain braining.

- Di Feisheng knows Fang Duobing is an omega before Li Lianhua cause he picks up on it during their fighting.

- when Li Lianhua is missing and they are searching for him, Di Feisheng often meets up with Fang Duobing to scent mark him cause, Li Lianhua isn't here to do it so I will cover for him.

- Di Feisheng always scent marks Li Lianhua and Fang Duobing gets annoyed not because Li Lianhua smells like Di Feisheng but because he doesn't know how to scent mark others.

- Li Lianhua gets very annoyed whenever Di Feisheng comes to him smelling like someone else (JLQ) and unconsciously smothers him in his scent.

- Fang Duobing actually hates it so much he wouldn't go near Di Feisheng until Li Lianhua has scented him and covered any stray smells.

- both di Feisheng and Li Lianhua try to teach fang Duobing how to scent others but it just ends with them smothering him in their own scents until he's completely scent drunk and out of commission.

- it is also very easy to get Fang Duobing scent drunk since he's very sensitive to it, which is why his mother gives him scent blockers every time she sees him, Li Lianhua carries some with him too and eventually so does Di Feisheng because he has accidentally turned Fang Duobing into a melted mess too many times with his potent scent.

#mysterious lotus casebook #difanghua #di feisheng #li lianhua #fang duobing #omegaverse

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bookstantrash · 4 months ago

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A/N: This took a while to post even though it had been written for quite some time lol sorry. It is also the last already written fic I had and the last RED TV titled one (for now, I’ll absolutely write more in the future, one day)

I have an Emerie centric fic that I hope I can finish writing soon now that I am on a break from uni, but I make no promises given my record track I also plan to start studying for my bar exam so there’s that

Anywaaaaays hope you guys enjoy some soft Nessian!

But I don't wanna dance (if I'm not dancing with you)

It had not escaped Nesta’s attention how her husband sometimes left their bed in the late nights. After their talk about his nightmares — after how he had promised to wake her up and talk when he had a bad dream — his disappearances had become irregular and rare. But recently he had begun to take longer to go to bed, finding excuses to make her lay down before him, or even waking up before the sun had even risen. Nesta knew Cassian was used to waking up with the first rays of sunlight, while she preferred to sleep in — although the early morning training sessions with the Valkyries made her wake up a bit earlier then she would have preferred. However, now he was awake before even the sun had made an appearance and well, she would be lying if that did not bother her.

She had tried to wake up early with him to discover what he was up to, but that had proved to be impossible very quickly. She was not a morning person at all, and all it took was Cassian leaving some kisses on her neck and shoulder, whispering for her to go back to sleep and promising pancakes to make her burrow herself in the furs and mumble that “they better have chocolate chips or else”.

Nesta had also attempted to find where he disappeared to late in the night, something that was turning out to be more difficult than she had expected. Although the House was big and had more rooms than they would ever use, she had made sure to investigate each and every one of them whenever she had the time.

She found nothing. It was as if Cassian’s disappeared to a different dimension, making her reach one conclusion: the House was Cassian’s accomplice in whatever it was that he was up to.

The fact that the House — who in nine out of ten cases sided with her — had decided to cover up whatever it was that her mate was doing left her puzzled. And, if she was being honest, a little shocked. And betrayed. But if Nesta Archeron was known for something it was for her cunning mind and ability to charmspeak her magical house with smutty books.

So she bid her time, waiting for Cassian to slip off of their bed at midnight while she pretended to be asleep, leaving a kiss on her temple. She waited for a few heartbeats, her Fae hearing making it possible to listen to his footsteps disappearing completely. When she was sure he had left, she threw back the covers and, opening her bedside table’s drawer, grabbed a wrapped package.

“I know that you and Cassian are hiding something from me” Nesta said to the House but all she got in response were the faelights flickering thrice.

“No? You don’t know what I mean?” she shrugged, waving the package around “And here I was, debating letting you read Sellyn Drake’s newest romance before me…”

That made the faelights turn on and shine brightly, and Nesta knew she had gotten Its attention. Having two younger sisters — one of them who liked to prove herself at every opportunity available — she knew exactly what to say to get what she wanted done. She didn’t even have to resort to the courtier techniques her awful mother had drilled into her since she learned how to talk.

Nesta could still remember when they lived at their mansion in the human lands, their mother and father gone for the weekend for some stupid engagement party of some even stupider high ranking noble family at their snobby generations old countryside manor. By some small miracle their horrid grandmother was absent and the governess had gotten sick at the last minute, and with little time to hire someone, they had to make do with only the maids, who were less rigid and mean than what Nesta and her sisters were used to.

And they had enjoyed that weekend to the fullest. Nesta thought that had been the only time they had truly been able to be just children and enjoy themselves. And with that came a closeness and sisterly attitude that was usually lacking between the sisters.

Feyre had pulled pranks on them, hiding behind doors and jumping to scare them, or leaving fresh paint in Elain’s porcelain tea set, making her get her hands all dirty.

Elain had retaliated by baking Feyre’s favourite muffin — an indulgence reserved solely for her birthday, given that “ladies do not eat sweets all the time if they wanted to maintain a proper figure” — but using salt instead of sugar, adding a bit of some spice their father had brought back from one of his travels. Feyre had spit the muffin and chugged an entire glass of water to wash away the taste.

Nesta remembers the cook’s dejected face after seeing the mess Elain had left in his kitchen, having listened to Elain’s pleading eyes and letting her roam free in the otherwise forbidden space.

Meanwhile, Nesta had simply said to five year old Feyre that they “would play statue” and had gotten herself the rest of day to read in peace as her littlest sister was set on “winning the game”.

In conclusion, all she had to do was apply a similar tactic to the House.

“But well, if you insist that there is nothing going on…” she shrugged, opening the drawer and putting the book inside again.

Nesta was about to close the drawer when the book disappeared, the door to her room opening and the lights flashing, as if to say “follow me”.

Works every time, she thought with a sly smile, sliding her robe on as she left her room.

The House guided Nesta through the hallways, making her stop in front of an empty guest room she had previously checked.

“Are you sure Cassian’s in there?” she asked, for a second doubting whether the House knew where Cassian went or if It only wanted to read the smutty book first.

The fae lights outside flicked twice, and Nesta saw the door changing, becoming wider until it was a double door, definitely the kind that did not open to guest bedrooms.

“You glamoured yourself?” she said in disbelief, but the House merely opened a sliver of the door and flicked the fae lights again, as if to say ‘go on, I told you where your mate is now let me go back to my smutty book’.

Shaking her head, she approached the door, spying the room through that tiny crack, her eyes widening at the scene she saw.

Her husband and mate was dancing.

Nesta could see the Symphonia playing in the corner of the room while Cassian danced, stepping on glittering footsteps that showed what he should do and where he should go.

“I think I might be getting the hang of it,” he said with a small satisfied smile “But I don’t know about my arms… It is a bit weird to keep them in position without holding something…”

Pursing his lips, Cassian shook his head.

“Maybe I should have asked for a dummy to practise with…” he furrowed his brow “House, do you think you would be able to make it happen, please?”

However, the House had other plans. No sooner had Cassian spoken, the door suddenly opened all the way, making Nesta stumble into the room and come into her mate’s view.

“You little traitor!” Nesta hissed under breath.

“Nes? What are you doing here?” he arched an eyebrow “I thought the House was on my side for once, but I guess I was mistaken.”

“Well, It did end up bringing me a rehearsal partner so I suppose I am not completely upset at my surprise being ruined.” Cassian added with a lopsided smile, walking towards Nesta and grabbing her hand, bringing her closer with a slight tug on her waist.

The faelights inside the room flicked once, the door closing and the Symphonia starting a new tune. Nesta figured that was the way of the House saying ‘my job here is done, do not bother me until I am done with my book’.

With the Symphonia playing a new melody, Cassian pulled Nesta into the song with him.

“This is the first time you’ve led,” Nesta noted. Usually, she would be the one to take the lead and Cassian would follow her.

It was a bit unusual for the male partner to be the one following instead of being followed, but that had never bothered him. Cassian always let Nesta take the lead, not just when they danced. He knew her strengths and weaknesses. He knew she could take on her own fights and defend herself, but that did not mean that he left her all on her own. He was always there beside her, cheering her on, being there to support her but also give her a different perspective on things. Sure, they argued sometimes, just like every couple. However, they would not have gotten where they were and their relationship would not be what it was if they didn’t. At the end of the day, they always reached an understanding after voicing their opinions. And well, if that sometimes led to some makeup sex neither of them were complaining.

“Am I doing it well, Nes?” he asked, twirling her.

“You are doing okay I guess,” she answered, trying not to fuel his already big ego even more. But Cassian was indeed dancing more smoothly than the other times. Now, it resembled like when he was lost in the dangerous and deadly dance of fighting he displayed in training. Like when Nesta had stood atop a little hill and watched silently as Cassian rained down upon Hybern’s armies.

“Liar,” he purred, spinning her so her back was against his chest, “I would like to think that I am doing it well after all that practising, but shadow dancing is definitely not the same when you dance properly with a partner.”

Nesta could not see his face, but she knew. She knew just from the way his voice trembled a little, some false bravado and swagger put on it. She knew from the way his end of the bond seemed to waver in uncertainty, just a bit. And she remembered the very first time they had danced together, when he had all but pushed Eris aside while asking for her next dance. At the time, she thought her eyes were playing tricks on her when she saw his hand trembling slightly but maybe… maybe it had not been her imagination.

Did Cassian also practise in secret before that day? Had he been nervous that maybe it had not been enough and that he would end up embarrassing himself in front of her? Had that been why he had seemed so unsure and anxious despite the brave face he portrayed?

“You are right, it is different to dance with someone in comparison to dancing alone.” Nesta said, turning around so she could look into the hazel eyes she loved so dearly “But you are my mate, so of course you are dancing well.”

That had Cassian opening one his brightest smiles, his end of the bond singing and shining.

“But why not ask the House for a dancing partner from the start? It is not the most impossible thing for It to do” she wondered, thinking about all the things the House had made out of thin air on other occasions.

“Well, I am a mated male now,” Cassian answered, dipping her in time with the last note of the song “I was hesitant to dance with anyone else”

“Cassian, it would not be a real partner” Nesta replied, rolling her eyes fondly at him.

He brought his face closer to hers, still holding her in the dipped position. But Nesta was not worried about falling. She knew that her mate's strong arms could hold her that way all day if she asked.

And she also knew that he would break her fall if he was to lose his balance somehow.

“What can I say?” he kissed her, smiling against her mouth “I don’t want to dance with anyone apart from my wife.”

And a month later when the Night Court went to a ball being held in Winter Court to celebrate the birth of Kallias and Viviane’s daughter, Cassian showed off the results of his practice, dancing with Nesta the entire night.

•

tag list: @sayosdreams @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @letstakethedawn @katekatpattywack @nestaarcheron @imagine-me @sv0430 @starryblueskies7 @live-the-fangirl-life @valkyriewarriors @readskk @wannawriteyouabook @imwritingthesewords @rainbowcheetah512 @moodymelanist @castielspelvis

[Reblogs/likes/comments are always welcomed!!]

#nessian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron x cassian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #a court of silver flames #post acosf #post a court of silver flames #sarah j maas #sjmass #acotar #sjm fanfic

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yoimix · 2 years ago

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𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 | 𝐚𝐥𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐦

series: yoimix christmas event !! (๑ᴖ◡ᴖ๑)

pairing: alhaitham x reader

synopsis: if christmas is the season of giving, then you’re giving up on both alhaitham’s ability to play nice, and your teetering love life.

prompt: decorating the tree + mutual pining + modern au

genre: fluff, e2l

wc: 2.8k

warnings: language, this is just 90% bickering

a/n: holy shit i got derailed from the schedule but i finally decorated the tree with my family (and attempted fixing the busted christmas lights) so merry christmas, my sunshines!! hope you have a lovely time and a wonderful year ahead ❣️

Alhaitham is a man of many talents.

Choosing Christmas ornaments is not one of them. You’re not sure if it’s because he’s aesthetically impaired or if he genuinely never decorated a tree before—but shopping with him has been one hell of a nightmare. It’s a shame he’s been selected as the one to host this year’s Christmas party. Lucky for him, the good samaritan in you decided to help him out. (Even though he told you to not bother and ‘mind your own business’.)

Not because you’re regrettably in love with him.

This year, Fate decided to stitch you a get-along sweater from previous years’ antics because you’re stuck helping him. You couldn’t refuse when Nilou personally called you up to make sure the background for the Instagram posts aren’t downright grotesque (of course, she put it rather nicely but that’s what she meant). You’d take any excuse to see his handsome face and sketch a frown onto it.

“Why the fuck did you buy the yellow ones? They’re hideous!” You hold up the bells, colored a neon yellow with sparkly bits and pieces, and certainly not easy on the eyes. It’s borderline vomit-colored. You never know how he manages to pick the worst thing that has ever befallen your eyes every time.

“They were Buy 6 Get 6 free.” Alhaitham shrugs. How you wish you could knock the nonchalant look off his face.

“You don’t go by deals when you’re decorating!” You groan, exasperated. “Now we have twelve of these ugly motherfuckers.”

“They were also the first I saw in that aisle,” he answers, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why you want to spend hours and hours walking around the department store when we can get the job done in five minutes.”

“Well, you’re doing a very sloppy job, bonehead.”

“At least we could get to the decorating part thanks to my intervention.” He crosses his arms. “Otherwise, we’d still be at the mall.”

“God, you are such a—ugh! Fine, let’s get on with it.”

Alhaitham hums in agreement—of course, he never bothers to spare more words than necessary. That’s an invitation to you, though, to provoke him till you have his full attention. Call it childish but you enjoy the cracks in his solid stances.

Besides, it’s not like he cares.

What you have is not a crush anymore—it’s festered into something more vile, more self-serving, and more fun. It’s not like it was back in college, when you could quarrel to your hearts’ content over assignments and exam scores. You have adult jobs now and seeing each other is much more irregular. You never expected silence to be so full of disquiet.

However, the Christmas reunion every year gets blood rushing to your arteries faster than you let on. There is no greater spectacle for your friends than you and Alhaitham trying to one-up each other over every little festive detail. Last year, it was a squabble over the Christmas music selection, and the year before it was about the photos not turning out quite so well (Refer: Alhaitham’s lack of aesthetic sense), and once it was even about who’s the better driver just because you decided to drive to midnight mass. Let’s not even get started on preparing Christmas dinner. At the very least, though, your friends get to enjoy extravagant gifts from your unspoken gift-giving competition. It’s not like you’ll let a man flash his dollars in your face when you earn just as much, if not more.

This year, obviously, you need to coach him on style.

“Don’t hang that on the tree—oh Jesus, I must personally apologize to you for whatever this heathen is doing to the tree. I promise I had no part in it—”

“Will you quit babbling and try to get shit done?”

You scoff. “I’d rather swallow concrete than let you put that up. I’m trying to save all of our eyes.”

“I highly doubt you have the capability.”

Alhaitham may not be that interested in this but like hell he’d let you do better. That’s the sort of man he is.

“You narcissistic ass…” You mutter, standing on your tiptoes to hang the rest of the little gift boxes.

“My, aren’t you sweeping self-awareness under the rug today?”

“Go fuck yourself, Alhaitham.”

You can feel the smirk on his face even if you don’t look up at him.

To be very honest, you’re quite comfortable with how it is. Any step further, and you’ll be falling and scraping your knees; any larger distance and you’ll be bored out of your mind.

“Not that.”

You pull Alhaitham back by his sweater, somehow uglier than yours when you’ve been winning ugly sweater competitions since age eight. Seriously, whatever Eldritch horror rendition of a llama is on his sweater freaks you out. Apparently his niece stitched it herself so you’ll cut him some slack. It’s rather sweet of him, even.

“If not these, then what?” Alhaitham sighs, holding back the little neon murderers of the Christmas spirit. “Do you want to leave half the tree plain?”

“Obviously not, idiot. I’ll fashion some dice into ornaments. Ooh, maybe I can wrap some fruits in aluminum foil and hang them. I’ll paint.”

“What a nuisance,” he mutters, eyelids lowered. You swear it’s your lips he’s staring at but that can’t be possible.

It must be a trick of the light. You look away, shifting your focus to the leftover fairy lights.

“And- and I have ribbons,” you continue, pretending you never noticed. “There’s also some Kalpalata lotuses we could stick in the branches. That’d be pretty, right?”

“Mhm, yes. Very unique.”

Your eyebrows travel halfway to your hairline. Alhaitham furrows his brows at your stunned silence, unsure of what caused the reaction.

“That’s the first time you’ve complimented me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get used to it.”

Alhaitham’s serious response to your rivalry used to be your best validation. It’s not like you mind the occasional nice words though.

“Ooh, that makes me crave it more,” you tease, elbowing him as he purposely avoids your gaze.

“You get older but never wiser, do you?” He grumbles.

“Then, O Great Sage, what is your wisdom tonight?”

Alhaitham turns to you sharply, leaning in just enough to make your breath hitch in your throat. You can’t even take a step back for fear of the tree toppling. It seems he’s effectively grounded you. The lack of distance, however, does not fall inside your comfort zone. Is it terrible that you can’t stop staring? Everything about him is so annoyingly attractive, from the high cheekbones to the perfectly carved lips.

“I know you enjoy pushing my buttons,” he speaks by your ear, voice low. “And efficiency is not a key you’ve ever held. But let’s try, hm?”

You’re only cheeky out of habit. “Do you like watching me squirm? Pervert.”

Alhaitham breathes out, clearly accepting his defeat. “It’s five already. Everyone arrives in two hours.”

You shrug. “We’re pretty much done, aren’t we? Unless you want me put in an ice rink and a cocktail bar too, your highness.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. You’re starting to miss the biting retorts. “Did you check the lights like I asked you to?”

“Oh shit.”

The Christmas lights are at least eight feet long and you have no idea why he has these. This man does not look like he feels any emotion from fairy lights. They’re braided every five light bulbs, and much to your and Alhaitham’s chagrin, they flicker and die midway. They are pretty though, emanatinga. warm golden glow. Very

“God, I could be out partying right now,” you groan. “Why did I sign up for this?”

“That sounds like a plan. Please do me a favor and go partying.” Alhaitham takes the plug out of the socket, sighing. You press your lips into a thin line and snatch the plug, testing out the wiring. It’s just a little puzzle to solve. You’ve dealt with enough home electricals in your life. You can’t say the same for Mr Paper-for-brains.

“Despite your looks, you’re somehow the nerdiest loser I’ve ever met.” You huff, taking out each bulb and placing bits of aluminum foil to ensure the connections.

“What, because I don’t spend my Friday evenings inebriated?”

“Alcohol could do you some good, actually.”

He meets your retort with a sigh and you take it as a victory. You’re not some child throwing a tantrum that willful ignorance of your actions will get you to feel remorse.

“It’s already sunset.” Alhaitham clicks his tongue. “The clock’s ticking and you still haven’t rid your habit of messing around with every little thing you see.”

“I’m not messing around! I just wanna solve it like a puzzle.”

“We could just buy new ones,” he states, a deadpan stare directed at you.

“...Or we could do that.” You turn away, breaking eye contact. “But seriously, don’t you find joy in solving some problems the hard way? Like, you wouldn’t set fire to a puzzle as an attempt to solve it.”

Alhaitham pauses, lips parted slightly but he can’t come up with a retort. He’s probably just amazed at your exceptionally stupid example. Even if that was your attempt to salvage your ego, you’re not entirely lying. You wouldn’t be here right now if you didn’t have the tendency to take longer, more troublesome, and more scenic routes. Your original sin is never letting go.

“Cat got your tongue?” You offer him a sarcastic smile. “I know it’s not the same—”

“The way you think is quite fascinating,” he says quietly. “I don’t understand—I’m drawn to it.”

You swallow your own words. Out of all the possible sentences that could’ve come out of his mouth, that wasn’t the one you were expecting.

“You’re creative,” he hums, tapping his fingers against the couch headrest idly. “And you’re strange.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

For the first time this evening, Alhaitham laughs. It’s dry, but it’s a deep sound nonetheless. You can’t take your eyes off him.

“Somehow, I can never understand you,” he responds, leaning back against the wall. “Maybe I never will. You piss me off.”

You let go of the lights and move to sit on the couch arm, looking up at him with a wondrous smile.

“And yet, you always stare at my lips. Are you so eager for the profanities that leave them?”

“I do not.”

A subtle snarl twists his lips.

“Oh? You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

“Do I now?”

His voice is raised, and he’s no longer leaning against the wall. This is getting exciting. You’d do anything to keep his eyes on you.

“Yes, and you can’t stand it,” you state your theory, even if you don’t believe in it. There are limits to the lengths you’ll go, but you haven’t reached there yet.

Alhaitham knits his brows, clearly soured with the exchange by now with his tense shoulders and deep frown. You quite like that look on him. Especially when he looks at you like that at this proximity. It’s an honor to rile up the Alhaitham, infamous throughout your academic life. You’re not so bad yourself.

You blow a raspberry at him. “Do it, coward. Kiss me.”

“You know what? Fucking gladly.”

Before you can process it, a soft pair of lips push against yours, while his hands hold you by the waist to keep you in place. You give in for a flash of a second, before you pull away with a gasp. That was not good for your heart. However, you’re not the only one in dire conditions.

Alhaitham is a sight to behold. His face is the color of ripe Henna berries—you’re not sure if it’s from the kiss or the fact that he’s still pissed off at you. You reach out to press your palm against his cheek, the gesture softening his gaze ever so slightly.

This time, you tug him in, the kiss hesitant at first before the two of you ease into it. When your noses bump, you hold back a giggle and you can feel him smile against your lips. Oh, you’ve never seen all these hues and shades before. You pull away, and he nearly chases your lips before his ego yanks him back by the collar.

“You liked that, didn’t you?” You smirk.

“Not a chance.”

“Then look me in the eyes.”

Alhaitham meets your gaze with no protest whatsoever, pressing his tongue against the inside of his cheek. Even in defeat, he manages to look like the arrogant bastard he is.

“Lying doesn’t suit you, sweetheart,” you tut.

Alhaitham raises an eyebrow.

“Tell me again, what you said to me at graduation.”

“What did I say?” You feign ignorance. At the time, it seemed like an appropriate response to him holding up his 4.0 over your 3.95. The goal was never just summa cum laude.

“That you hate me,” he answers, pulling you closer and closer till his mouth hovers above yours. “Tell me you hate me and call me a liar once more. I dare you.”

“I hate you,” you breathe against his lips, “I hate you so much.”

“Liar.” The smile against your lips is sweeter than holiday season. In fact, it might even be comparable to your rich chocolate cookies in ecstasy.

You pull away with a teasing smile. “Have you been thinking I hate you for all these years?”

Alhaitham rolls his eyes to the side, completely ignoring your remark.

“You like me, don’t you?” Your smile grows wider, a sudden rush of schoolgirl infatuation filling you.

“How in the ever loving fuck did you come to that conclusion?”

The sarcasm drips like honey off his voice. As if you couldn’t fall any further.

“Maybe you should kiss me again, so I can gather more evidence for a stronger conclusion. I wouldn’t go wrong with my hypothesis.” You lean in, grinning as brightly as the stars in the sky.

He hums, fighting back a smile. “Well, I do support the scientific method.”

“Okay, so whatever feud you’re having, I’m on (name)’s side—oh.”

Kaveh freezes at the doorway. Surely, the one image he never would’ve conjured up in his head was that of you sitting on the floor between Alhaitham’s legs, his arms wrapped around your waist as you sort through your Christmas cards. And the two of you are laughing. Is that not cause for concern?

“You know, when people are built like a coconut tree, they shouldn’t be standing in front of doors—oh.”

Cyno is your next victim, and his jaw drops less conspicuously than Kaveh’s does but it surprises him nonetheless. He swears on his gold star espeon card that he’d sooner expect Alhaitham to drop dead than admit his crush on you. No, even if he got over his emotional constipation, Cyno didn’t think you’d be at peace without pressing something to his throat. It truly is a Christmas miracle.

“Boys, can we not clog the doorway?” Dehya groans. “I get that this is the first time you knuckleheads have ever sensed emotion, but we saw this coming a mile away.”

“Oh, don’t be mean, Dehya,” Dunyarzad pokes Dehya’s side, causing the latter to giggle and wrap her arm around Dunyarzad’s waist. “Besides, you went into shock too when I suggested they might have a thing for each other.”

Dehya opens her mouth and closes it again. “You got me there.”

“Alright now, everyone,” Nilou stands on her tiptoes to peek over Kaveh and Dehya’s shoulders. “I set them up and I can’t see the fruit of my efforts.”

“You did what?!” You yell, getting pulled down by Alhaitham when you try to get up. Shooting him a glare, you get comfortable anyway.

“Oh, now you hear me.”

You try your best to not look offended. Alhaitham tilts his head to the side, an eyebrow raised in curiosity towards the information Nilou just dropped. There’s no schemes without him.

“You just needed an excuse and I knew—”

“Nilou, please stop talking, I’ll buy you more shiba inu figurines.”

“No bribe can—”

“Broadway tickets.”

Nilou makes a gesture of zipping her lips. “My lips are sealed, your highness.”

Alhaitham sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You do know that I’m aware of your advances? You’re not very subtle.”

Your jaw drops, offended. “I thought I was being sexy and flirty and mysterious.”

“You were literally none of those. All you did was drive me up a wall.”

“But did that work?”

“Yes.”

Kaveh makes a gagging sound. “If you guys start making out during Nightmare before Christmas, I will vomit all over you.”

“Did you pay rent or are you going to dirty someone else’s living room?” Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh looks away, whistling a note. It elicits a wave of laughter, and like dominoes, Christmas eve is set into motion. The presents line the base of the tree, the lights have been dimmed till only the fairy lights shine, and Alhaitham has started the hallmark movie after much grumbling.

Maybe the Christmas spirit has some meaning after all; and you could debate this with your boyfriend, but it is the most wonderful time of the year to celebrate anniversaries.

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sayitaliano · 2 months ago

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Hello, I’ve been trying to learn Italian for a few years now (it’s been an on and off thing, depending on how frustrated I get lol), I feel like my discipline is not the best, and the fact that I can’t find a native to practice and ask for help is also pretty discouraging. Could you please give me a few tips as to what I can do to learn more in my current situation? Thank you 💕

Ciao!

For as frustrating as it may get (and I know what you mean here as a languages student myself), my main suggestion is to try and keep up a constant pace that allows you to study at least 15 minutes everyday (or a bit more 3-4 times a week, all according on your schedule ofc). I noticed an improvement once I started being more consistent in my practice (even writing just a sentence per day is better than doing a whole paragraph each month -eg. I've been writing a diary everyday, not just about random stuff but inserting different things like descriptions, answering questions, grammar stuff/sentences practice...). And ofc, the moment I decided I wanted to be more consistent, I had to start from basics again (and I'm suggesting you the same).

Set easy goals, plan reviews of what you have studied (even the week before), write in and listen to your target language (and also talk to yourself in it, like eg. describe what's around you or try to tell yourself what you should do; immerse yourself in the culture as much as you can -youtube is so of help with its many vlogs and shows and music...): I understand you want to run fast towards fluency but it's not said you need to reach it in a certain amount of time. Allow yourself to have days in which you see no progress or even think you're taking step backward. It's okay, it's all part of the process (we also have bad days in general, so be kind with yourself). We need for stuff we learn to settle a bit here and there, and therefore not making moves even for a week or two (or more) is normal. Go slow: moving fast is enemy when we want to learn and really assimilate what we learn.

Even if it's annoying to study, grammar is fundamental. And Italian grammar is not easy to learn so again it may take time according on what you are studying (nouns' genders, irregular verbs, articles, pronouns, adjectives.... try to start as easy as you can). If you rather, I'd suggest you buying a book for foreigners (I'm leaving you the resources masterpost, maybe you can find studying books but also other resources for your self studies)

I have collected LOADS of studying tips in the years on this masterpost (lemme add this since i cannot edit that post now) and... actually I know of a native who's trying to practice English (this said you can write a post about needing a "Penpal" and tag me, I'll happily reblog it here: many Italians follow me or you can use some other app). Don't give up on a native's help: being corrected when we make mistakes is so very important. It helps us remember the mistake we made and not do it anymore (or be more aware of it). Or find studying pals! I'm sure other Italian students would like to share and help you. Having others studying with us, may also help when it comes to consistency: we have no excuse but to practice at least every week and then we can practice together too. There's nothing bad in asking for help: if you don't know something, you cannot just try to solve it yourself, as you may not find the solution (or find a incorrect one): that way studying a language can really become frustrating to say the least as you may feel like you're in a hole and you cannot get out of it. Don't make it more difficult for yourself, make it easier. It's plenty of people who'd like to help you out and find themselves in your same position. You're not a bother, js.

All the best!! And ofc here I am if you need help :)

#it #italian #langblr #italiano #italian language #italian langblr #languages #styding tips #studyblr #studying languages

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studying-with-k · 10 months ago

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28-12-23

I have no excuse this time for being an irregular poster lmao, I was swamped with work and tis the season for anxiety striking cause of uni applications. I've been slowly working back towards reading more and being a more productive, post-fracturing my ankle a year ago, it really did take a toll on my productivity and work ethic. But now's the time to prep for the new year and new story arc.

Also, shoutout to my pen pal bestie for sending me that cute ass heart shape tea infuser it's honestly one of the coolest things I use rn and will forever use. Also, yes that is pieces of paper stapled together to be used as notes (got the inspo from a pin on pinterest and they called it used paper-core and ngl I love doing it and saving em too like lil memories and shi)

#studyblr #studying with k #studyingwithk #books #studying #academia #desi dark academia #reading #dark academia #bookblr #Spotify #poc dark academia

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aevallare · 8 months ago

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writing patterns tag gaaaaame :3c

tagged by the lovely @otemporanerys thank you thank you thank you <3

Rules: list the first line(s) of your last 10 posted fics and see if there's a pattern!

(i will be going by last updated because i cba figuring out what my last 10 actually posted are lmao)

ok! under the cut!

1. pour one out (f!tavstarion)

She and Astarion were never going to have as long as they liked because Astarion would live forever and Auri was only mortal.

2. kindred (f!tavstarion)

For Auri, the world has always been a matter of song. Other things were important too, of course, but home as Auri knows it has always been a fickle thing. She’s only ever consistently found it in song. People came and went, but the music she heard in everything was the only constant in a life defined by nomadism. Well, and Viv. There was also Viv.

3. infinite duress (f!tavstarion)

Teasing Auri is like breathing.

4. hypotheticals (wyllstarion)

The music in the inn is raucous. The tieflings know how to throw a party, but Wyll is too introspective to partake. As he watches, Gale tries desperately to trick Astarion into conversation. Astarion, for his part, looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

5. green-eyed (shadowtavstarion)

Shadowheart had been skeptical of continuing their arrangement, but as time passes, being with Auri and Astarion comes to be the thing in her life that makes the most sense. They come and they go at irregular intervals, and Shadowheart doesn’t always know when they’ll show up at her cottage, but they never leave her alone for long, and she never complains when they appear.

6. oneiric (shadowtavstarion)

Auri’s no fool. She has no right to the intricacies and full truths of what Astarion went through in the centuries before the tadpole, when he was a spawn rather than an adventurer and when Auri was a jester rather than the Hero of Baldur’s Gate. People recognize them, now, in the street. “The hero and her lover!” they call out when Auri and Astarion walk by, though his vampirism is luckily still a secret.

7. excuses (f!tavstarion)

The orthon’s dead and his stronghold is now their camp for the evening. It’s a nice change from the usual; after barricading the entrance, they won’t even have to take watches. It’s well-fortified and Auri’s reasonably confident that they’ve wiped out anything in the immediate area that might want to kill them.

8. tumble (m!tavstarion)

When Astarion falls, he falls hard. From grace and from the mind flayer ship that snatched him out of Baldur’s Gate. Before that, though, there’s a tadpole and a pod not altogether different from a coffin. There are brains that walk the squelching, fleshy floor of the nautiloid and the beating wings of fiends launching an all-out assault.

9. vow (f!tavstarion)

Auri’s cycle has always been a fickle thing. It’s stabilized some in the months following their defeat of the Elder Brain and as her stress and anxiety have leveled out, but her cycle is still far from predictable.

10. cursed (bloodweave)

When Gale Dekarios was born, there were whispers that he was cursed.

hm. okay. as far as patterns. i. don't know. lmao. i should write stuff that doesn't have astarion, i guess, but that's nothing. erm. i don't know? embarrassing. pensive emoji.

i'll tag @dwarfsized @the-neon-pineapple @caspercryptid @again-please @deltatime @commander-krios @cursedhaglette @scaryanneee hehe :)

#tag game #mine #the pattern is that i should write less and have other hobbies #idk

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nyxshadowhawk · 2 years ago

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A Jungian Reading of Jekyll and Hyde

We finally come to the end of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I saw a comment that @gerrysherry left on another post asking for a Jungian reading, so I thought I would take the excuse to go off about my favorite psychological concept. Strap in, because I have thoughts.

Jekyll describes himself as “composite,” both good and evil, while Hyde is pure evil. In a Jungian reading, Hyde is Jekyll’s Shadow. This means that he is an expression of the repressed side of Jekyll’s personality. He is everything about Jekyll that Jekyll is ashamed of, not just his secret desires and pleasures but also his violent impulses and wanton cruelty. I argue that the reason why this ends so tragically for Jekyll is because he fails to integrate Hyde; and, in fact, actively attempts to segregate the halves of himself.

The first thing that Jekyll tells us in his statement is that he’s really, really repressed:

Hence it came about that I concealed my pleasures; and that when I reached years of reflection, and began to look round me and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of life. Many a man would have even blazoned such irregularities as I was guilty of; but from the high views that I had set before me, I regarded and hid them with an almost morbid sense of shame.

The Victorians were already repressed, but Jekyll is even more repressed. He feels deeply ashamed about these nameless “pleasures” (which, let’s be honest, is probably just being gay) and distances him from his conscious personality. He doesn’t want these secret parts of himself to influence his public reputation, or otherwise interfere with the image of himself that he presents to the world. So, he buries them deep down, hiding them not just from the world, but from himself. He already feels like he has a dual nature even before the mad science gets involved.

Jekyll’s intention with the mad science is essentially to give himself Dissociative Identity Disorder, I think. He wants to separate the “good” self from the “evil” self, and have them live independently from each other. Honestly, knowing what I know of DID, I fail to understand how that would be much better. I don’t think he ever really thought this through. But he finds that he cannot do this. He doesn’t end up with a purely good self and a purely evil self, he ends up with his normal self and a purely evil self. The purely evil self, Hyde, is literally just Jekyll with his inhibitions removed and his repressed aspects brought to the surface. Apart from that and his changed appearance, Jekyll isn’t any different. He initially acknowledges this, that Hyde is just himself but in Shadow form:

I felt younger, lighter, happier in body; within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself, at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil; and the thought, in that moment, braced and delighted me like wine. I stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness of these sensations; and in the act, I was suddenly aware that I had lost in stature.

Here, he’s talking about Hyde in the first person. He feels younger, more reckless, and more wicked, but he otherwise hasn’t changed. He’s still aware of and in control of his actions. Hyde, being a Shadow, is both everything Jekyll does not to be associated with and everything he secretly wants to be. So, he goes for it. He lets out all of his repressed crap, indulges in his “undignified” pleasures, and then returns to his conscience. Hyde is still Jekyll, but with a unique opportunity to resolve his midlife crisis and live it up with no consequences.

A lot of adaptations portray Jekyll as an innocent victim of an evil alter rising up from within and taking over his body. I just watched Moon Knight, so I’ve been thinking about Dissociative Identity Disorder for these last few days. (If you haven’t seen it, Moon Knight is AFAIK one of the best portrayals of DID in media.) In Moon Knight, Marc and Steven are literally separate people that share the same body, to oversimplify a bit. Steven has no awareness of Marc at first, experiences amnesia and blackouts, and has no control over Marc’s actions at all. Despite how adaptations might make it look, Jekyll and Hyde emphatically do not work like that. Jekyll and Hyde are the same person. They don’t just share the same body, they are literally the exact same person.

That means that there is no meaningful difference between Jekyll and Hyde. Everything Hyde indulges in is something that Jekyll already enjoys. Everything Hyde does is something Jekyll already wants to do. Everything Hyde is responsible for, Jekyll is equally responsible for, because they’re the same person.

Jekyll never fully comes to terms with this, and that’s where he goes wrong. “It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone, that was guilty. Jekyll was no worse; he woke again to his good qualities seemingly unimpaired.” He never makes any real attempt to confront or deal with these dark desires of his, he just shoves them off into a secret double life. So, when the halves of his life start to overlap against his will, what does he do? He freaks out, and starts repressing Hyde again, even worse this time: “I led a life of such severity as I had never before attained to.” His answer is not to try to understand Hyde, take responsibility for his actions, or reconcile his shame. Instead, he locks his Shadow up again, with even tighter mental padlocks. But once the Shadow has been let out to play, it doesn’t go back in the dark easily. Jekyll “began to be tortured with throes and longings, as of Hyde struggling after freedom.” Repressing Hyde has made him feel like he has an internal monster straining to break free and wreak havoc, instead of Hyde being a relatively superficial shift in appearance and mindset.

One commonly accepted reading of this is as an addiction metaphor, especially because it’s followed up by a relapse in which Jekyll takes his drug again and commits an act of senseless violence. From a Jungian perspective, though, Hyde’s actions are worse when he finally breaks free because Jekyll’s repression of him had been so severe. Jekyll got scared and shoved down his Shadow, so when his Shadow bursts forth, all of the repressed desires and impulses that compose Hyde manifest themselves in the most horrifying way. The more Jekyll represses his darkness, the bigger it grows; the brighter the light, the darker the Shadow. It festers like a wound unattended. So, the pendulum swings all the way back in the other direction, and the violence feels good: “With a transport of glee, I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow...”

It’s after the horror of having murdered someone that Jekyll starts intentionally dissociating himself from Hyde more and more. He speaks of Hyde in the third person, because he can’t bring himself to admit that Hyde’s actions are his own. He starts to speak of Hyde the way many adaptations portray him: as if he were an uncontrollable evil force, rising from within in an attempt to take over and destroy him. He even dehumanizes Hyde, describing him as a kind of beast: “He, I say—I cannot say, I. That child of Hell had nothing human; nothing lived in him but fear and hatred.” Then he speaks of Hyde and Jekyll as if they’re different people entirely, with different motivations and desires. Then he speaks of Hyde as something “inorganic” -- not only inhuman, but unalive -- the “slime of the pit” and “amorphous dust.” He’s so desperate to disassociate himself from his Shadow that he insists his Shadow is inhuman dead matter.

Hyde is not actually becoming a separate being as the story goes along. Jekyll is slipping further and further into denial. As I said before, there’s no meaningful difference between Jekyll and Hyde. Jekyll’s failure to realize this is his undoing. The more Jekyll denies that Hyde is himself, the more his Shadow manifests involuntarily. When he self-righteously pats himself on the back for the charity work that he did to assuage his own guilt, Hyde nearly takes over completely.

So what should Jekyll have done? This is where the Shadow concept doesn’t fully line up with Stevenson’s worldbuilding. Hyde is literally pure evil -- everyone can see it in his face. The Shadow is not actually evil, it’s just the parts of you that you refuse to acknowledge. This is usually because you personally believe them to be evil, or because your culture has taught you that they are evil, but that doesn’t mean they actually are. Jekyll’s premise was flawed from the beginning. It’s not possible to separate a human being into good and evil halves. This is because there isn’t really such thing as inherent “good” or “evil.” Who decides what’s “good” and what’s “evil”? Victorians? Humans are nuanced. All parts of oneself are there for a reason and have value, because they can be helpful or harmful in different situations. Jekyll should have taken responsibility for his actions as Hyde, but he also should have found healthy outlets for his darker desires instead of beating himself up over them. Maybe fantasize about killing someone you hate and then move on with your life, instead of snapping and actually doing it! Jekyll should have integrated the two halves of himself instead of doing everything in his power to separate them.

Your Shadow is half of yourself, and if you repress it, then you lose all the potentially positive aspects of it. If you repress pride, you lose your self-confidence. If you believe that power and ambition are the root of all evil, you may lose your leadership skills or ability to be assertive. If you believe sexuality is evil... well, that’s kinda self-explanatory. The answer here is, ultimately, self-love. Your Shadow is you, and it still wants what’s best for you, it just has a very different idea of what that means. The least you can do is hear it out and give a hug, instead of locking it back in your subconscious dungeon.

It’s extremely difficult to admit to and then to come to terms with your Shadow. It’s a dark night of the soul. It’s a long and laborious process, in which you’ll have to reassess your identity. There are other works of media that I think demonstrate how to do it healthily, like The Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula LeGuin (although, just watch, I can make any story about Shadow work). You’re not alone, you’re not evil or sick, and you’re not a hypocrite for having a Shadow. Most people have them, and making friends with your Shadow is a genuinely wonderful thing. Thank you for coming to my TED talk. I can’t wait to analyze The Picture of Dorian Gray next!

I leave you with this masterpiece of an animatic, by S.K. Michels. Speaking from experience, this is how Shadow work sometimes feels. (Also, this artist’s portrayal of Jekyll/Hyde looks scarily like an OC I use to represent my own Shadow, so this video hits particularly hard for me).

youtube

#jekyll and hyde weekly #jekyll and hyde #the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde #dr jekyll and mr hyde #robert louis stevenson #gothic literature #carl jung #jungian reading #literary criticism #shadow complex #henry jekyll #edward hyde #jungian analysis #jungian psychology #shadow archetype #long post

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koffing-time · 1 year ago

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//ooc

//idk i probably don't need another ooc update but I'm paranoid. I've been interacting a bit and doing an ask game again and stuff, but I'm still not quite back with my mental yet, so it's not quite regular blogging. I'm gonna for a bold move and say: don't expect "regular blogging" until august, because i have (important) exams until then, and i might need the headspace as well.

//basically what i mean is that I don't plan to make any coherent arcs, not join any events and also "regular" posts are kinda irregular until then. I'll see how i feel after the exams because that can be pretty stressful.

//I'd like to ask anyone to excuse me taking long for answering any asks, but they are very very much appreciated. I really love this community and talking and interacting with all of you, but i just need some time right now and work at my own pace.

//so, uh... Yeah. Idk. (._.

#ooc #//would love to pin this but i can only pin one post at a time :/#Koffing-Time-1.0

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yourantag · 10 months ago

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Morningstar and Fun Facts

AN: Hello fellow Ithaqua simps. Apologies for the long radio silence, college was kinda brutal. I've been wanting to draw something for "Of Vices and Virtues" for a while, but couldn't find the motivation. So, after many months and getting through finals, I offer you this! ...and some fun facts for my previously posted fics. No one asked for them, but I figured it'll be a good way to organize a mini masterlist until I finally gather the motivation to make the official one. Whether you're new here or not, I hope you enjoy!

"Of Vices and Virtues" Fun Facts:

The concept of shadows and light representing vices and virtues, good and evil, was literally just made up on the spot as an excuse as to why the reader is so intrigued by pre-snap Morningstar

I kinda had to get rid of reader's parents somehow to further get across the point of Helel being all you have just as you are all he has, so I made them traitors lol

But also, the sweet sweet taste of betrayal is always worse when it's from the people you trusted the most

Reader's parents were the ones to snitch on Morningstar's mom since they believed she was using witchcraft on you

They just wanted to protect you as you were slowly acting weirder and weirder the more time you spent in the forest

Naturally, the first person they blamed was the lady who everyone already kinda thought was a witch

Really, it's just that your curiosity led to you being enraptured by others "true" selves, warping and twisting your views on people, including yourself

That being said, your light and Helel's shadows being irregular ends up implying that the shadows and light you see never fully expressed whether a person was really "good" or "bad," just as the world is never black and white

Were you always insane? Or was it your abilities that drove you mad? Or perhaps your reliance on said abilities was what brought you to your downfall?

Regardless of what conclusion you come too, I hope it was fun

"Apricity" and "Zephyr" Fun Facts:

I actually only wrote Apricity since a friend said there wasn't enough Ithaqua fics

Legit I didn't feel like writing another fanfic ever again since my first one (I still get nightmares of it every night)

I never intended for Zephyr to exist, but I really wanted to show that one, you aren't an oblivious idiot, and two, you only got that one on one match because you specifically asked for it, worked for it, because you were willing to try and keep him in your life instead of letting him slip away

Because I wrote Zephyr after Apricity, Zephyr built on and sometimes conflicted with Apricity, which led to me straight up having to go back through it at least two hundred times

Despite that, I've kinda already forgotten what happened in both fics 💀

"Sweetest Thing" Fun Facts:

Currently the one and only non-Ithaqua fanfic I have (hint hint)

Another fic for another friend, and honestly I had a blast writing it

More people need to write for the ladies cause I don't see them enough >:[

This idea ended up coming from a random prompt generator that threw at me "royal" and "baking cookies together"

It's extremely attractive when someone tries to cook for you, especially when they aren't good because it shows they care and want you to know they care even though they aren't confident in themself

Their love for you overpowers their fear of failure and the unknown

And failing then trying to do it together is also super sweet

I might end up doing this prompt again but with Ithaqua at some point

(Morningstar accidentally making bread instead of cake or a salty scone instead of a cookie sounds fun too)

("Is that a scone dusted in salt???" "...I was trying to make sugar cookies.")

"New Beginnings" Fun Facts:

I hate this fic with a burning passion

I put too many ideas in and described too much

Literally I think this is the worst fic I've posted thus far

It was meant to show a world where Ithaqua and Nathaniel are happy siblings, then go into the romance bit with the reader and be all sweet and sappy

This fic made me understand why writers start killing off characters out of nowhere

HOW DO YOU ONLY WRITE FLUFF???

Let me just sprinkle in a little angst,,, just a little...

Half considered shooting Nathaniel mid fic for fun/hj

In conclusion, I'm never writing a fic with more than one central idea ever again

"Mercy" Fun Facts:

Well, first and foremost, the fact that it has a title at all is probably a surprise

Yes, it does have a title, but no, I'll never actually put it there in the post

It doesn't look nice when I do :<

I should probably try and format my posts differently-

It was honestly pretty difficult to write this since I had never gotten a request before and didn't know how to do it

I think in the end, it turned out pretty decent

I hope to get better at writing requests in the future since they make me happy

The prompt actually made me realize that duo hunters is basically a goldmine of opportunities

Jealousy, betrayal, character dynamics, and other things are so much easier to do when you're in the perfect setting for it

"Paper Stars" and "Glass Heart" Fun Facts:

This idea started when I saw a reel on Instagram about this person who made a bunch of paper stars

I've always thought it was cool, and then I remembered the little legend and was like "mmm yes angst"

It was a new flavor too! Unrequited love instead of self sabotage

Oh wait actually it's self sabotage in a trench coat and a hat

Well, technically both since you didn't know that your love wasn't unrequited

This duo fic was actually gonna be a trio fic with the last one being happy

But I think I like the amount of emotional damage I've inflicted with Glass Heart

(If requested though I'll finish writing the third part)

(It's called Velvet Moon)

I actually never had a chance to add this in, but later on, Ithaqua finds out that those who remained in the manor never had to participate in matches again, so his sacrifice was for nothing

No I am not sorry

#idv #identity v #identity 5 #idv ithaqua #idv fanart #identity v fanart

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filthforfriends · 2 years ago

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The Hybrid (Part 1)

deranged Omegaverse Thomas x Damiano

Word count: 7.5k

CW: I originally thought this was too unhinged and graphic to post on Tumblr so do with that information what you will.

Omega Dysmorphia, that was the official diagnosis. In a world where omegas, alphas, and betas are all segregated from pre-puberty, to post-sexual maturity, any kind of Primary Gender Dysmorphia was radically isolating. It wasn’t like the alpha aspects of Thomas’ genealogy canceled out the omega to render him basically a beta. He was just a walking contradiction.

His very first identification card, as an infant, had an asterisk next to the classification Omega. It signaled some sort of irregularity that resulted in him being privately examined in high clearance situations. It didn’t have to be like this, his parents chose on his behalf. Children born with Primary Gender Dysmorphia were operated on before they were allowed to leave the hospital. It wasn’t required, but highly encouraged. His mother had refused, however, on the grounds that no functioning was compromised anatomically. Everything worked properly and an operation would only fix aesthetics and make him uniform with the rest of society.

The deformity was so rare that a rural surgeon may only encounter a few babies in his whole career. It was dangerous, and her spiritual beliefs prohibited invasive medical care. So Thomas’ biology progressed to puberty uninterrupted, and he became a hybrid. He’d been trained not to talk about it, and as a child the necessity of secret keeping for one’s own safety rendered him extremely shy.

But there was music, where he couldn’t betray himself because he didn’t have to communicate in words. With no close friends and two hobbies, Thomas became very good at both video games and guitar. He was finally able to make friends: Victoria, Ethan, Damiano, but no one could be allowed too close, lest they might discover his secret.

While Thomas’ existence wasn’t illegal, it was prohibited in the rules of society. Hybrids with Omegan Dysmorphia were seen as threats to other omegas. His existence was highly political. Many advocated hybrids to be separated from the rest of the population, lest they corrupt healthy omegas and alphas with their unnatural biology. The only thing that protected Thomas from a witch hunt was doctor-patient confidentiality.

By age 15, Thomas had never formed a knot, never gone into rut, and his hybrid status was classified. Finally free of the asterisk, he started to integrate himself into the normal world. One such event was a sleepover at Damiano’s. Beautiful, statuesque, confident, charming, charismatic, glowing Damiano. Thomas had a crush. It could be nothing, a typical part of puberty, but could also be a sign of his alpha biology. This was an idea to be thought, and never spoken, for his own safety.

Damiano’s beta mother complained that his room smelled bad from playing video games in it all day, that he needed to air it out. However, when Thomas walked in Dami’s musk gave him a rush so strong he ended up woozy. Finally the omega and alpha in him met, and it was fucking uncomfortable. He should have made up an excuse and left, but he just couldn’t. He felt a tethering to Dami so strongly that Thomas would get anxious if he took too long getting something from the kitchen.

Damiano, to his credit, noticed the urge to be tactile with Thomas more than normal, but didn’t think much of it. As a hybrid, Thomas’ pheromones weren’t the usual sensory assault. So Dami just thought that he looked really good and smelled really good. Something about him was more mature, his skin demanded to be touched. Neither of them could sleep that night, and ended up smoking copious amounts of weed before finally dozing off.

Daminao dreamt of his first heat with an alpha, his body recognizing the presence of pheromones. In the dream he felt compelled to get closer and closer, like it was his life's purpose. He woke when Thomas moved underneath him. In the night, Daminao's face had somehow found its way to the crook of Thomas neck, and his scent glands. He startled awake, because this is not how an omega is supposed to smell. He’d seen Thomas in heat, and this was a very different scent. He was restless, and too warm, so Damiano pulled the comforter back, only for the smell to intensify.

“Thomas, Tom,” he whisper-yelled, sitting up. Thomas sought him out, instinctually. When he turned over, Daminao could see the outline of a knot through his white briefs. “Thomas, Thomas,” he shook him, and he finally came too.

“Hey,” he croaked, blinking hard and rubbing his eyes endearingly. Hybrids were supposed to be the big bad wolf, but he just looked like a groggy 16 year old. Thomas must have become aware of his erection too, because he froze up in mortification. “Oh, shit sorry,” he threw the blanket over himself. “It doesn’t mean –”

“I know, but…” he lets out a sigh. Maybe this is Thomas' first time. “Dude, you have a knot.”

“I, I,” he retracts every limb as close to his body as possible, shielding himself. “I’m, um – when I was born, I wasn’t…I mean I was, I was,”

“You’re a hybrid,” Daminao finishes. “I kind of thought they were a myth, that’s really cool.” He takes a look at Thomas' expression for the first time, and even by moonlight he looks ill. He’s not breathing very much and when he does it's these big shuddering inhales.

“Hey, dude, it's okay. I’m not judging you or anything, I don’t care about that stuff.” Thomas doesn’t answer him, doesn’t even meet his eyes, just trembles. Damiano may be an arrogant 18 year old, but he knows what it looks like when a person is so terrified they stop functioning.

“Okay, hey,” he wraps his arms loosely around Thomas, who is folded in on himself. “You don’t have anything to be scared of.” That seems to finally snap him out of it, and he turns to Dami.

“You can’t tell anyone. Anyone. Like, ever.”

“I won’t, I promise.” Thomas shakes his head, and tears spill from his eyes.

“No, you really really can’t Damiano. I just got my omegan status last year. The doctors just stopped watching me. You don’t understand. You can’t tell anyone,” he sobs. “Oh my god, what's going to happen if they think my mom is lying, what if –”

“They won’t, because I’m not going to say anything. I swear too fucking god, I won’t. I won’t, Thomas. Your secret is safe with me.” It's just a saying, but the word safe broke Thomas down even more. Damino pulled him into his lap and held him, rocked back and forth while Thomas confessed every pervasive fear he’d shouldered over the years. Things changed between them after that, they were closer. To some, emotionally intimate in a way that was odd between omegas.

Thomas very rarely went into rut, but when he did, Damiano was there. It had started as two friends with a mutual attraction, helping each other out. But when Dami received Thomas’ knot for the first time, he was on Thomas’ beckon call. They tried not to hook up regularly, generally having their own partners for heat. But sometimes the craving was too strong to deny. A couple days ago Thomas had managed to knot Dami outside of rut. It was a total accident, the moment was just intensely passionate, and Thomas gave into an urge he didn’t understand at that time. Damiano had arched into it, getting a vice grip on Thomas and howling in delight. The sudden stimulation had Dami’s eyes rolling back in his head, while his body shook with spontaneous orgasam.

“How long have you been able to do that,” he demanded. The noise dissolved into a moan as Thomas steepened the angle of his cock.

“I swear, just now,” he panted.

“Good, because if you’ve been holding out on me –” Thomas gave a couple more lazy thrusts, resulting in an obscene squelching noise due to Dami’s slick. He ended up whining again, tilting his hips in an attempt to take more. This was his favorite part about knotting Damiano, he could mouth off as much as he wanted, but his body was in a state of begging for anything Thomas was willing to give. He wasn’t vindictive enough to ever use this against him either.

“Cucciolo, I have never denied you a knot in my whole life, I swear,” he coos.

“Better not,” Damiano bites back, but with a giddy smile. “Because they're mine.”

“My knots?” He asks, incredulously.

“Yeah, you only get to knot when you’re inside me.” Underneath the dirty talk is a legitimate fear that Thomas will tell another omega about his hybrid status and Damiano won’t have him all to himself. Sometimes, when Dami wraps a hand around his cock, all he needs to think about is that he’s Thomas’ only omega, ever. This level of satiation that comes from their interactions is why Thomas is surprised to see his contact calling him three days post hook-up.

“Hey, what's up?”

“I – um, forgot my art portfolio at your place.” Immediately he can tell something is wrong. Damiao is panting into the phone, and when Thomas doesn’t answer right away he lets out a whine.

“Okay, I’m not sure…” Damiano didn’t have an art portfolio, but someone listening in on the phone lines wouldn’t know that. “Oh, okay! I’ll go find it.” There was only one thing that Thomas had to keep from government moderators: his hybrid status.

“Can you drop it by soon?” Daminao sounded like he was in pain. ”Going into heat always makes my head cloudy.” Over five years of friendship, up to 12 heats a year, and he had never made that comment before.

“I could leave right away?” He tries to even his tone, so they don’t both sound on edge.

“Yes!” Damiano exclaims, before controlling his tone. “That would be great.”

“Okay, umm,” his keys jangle as he scoops them off the table. “I’ll be there really soon.” The drive is agonizing. Damiano’s voice over the phone evoked a wave of protectiveness from Thomas. He spent all 20 minutes in the car trying to discern if it was about his hybridism or heat, and not until he pulled into the parking lot did he realize it could be both.

As soon as Damiano opened the door, Thomas’ suspicions were confirmed. It reeked of omega, which made no sense, because Dami wasn’t due for weeks. Regardless of the calendar, it was evident from his body language that Damiano was wracked with pheromones. He yanked Thomas inside by his shirt, closing the door behind him.

“Can you please, please” he pants, hands fiddling with Thomas flannel.

“Yeah, yeah.” He pulls Damiano into a bone crushing hug, and that seems to make the symptoms manageable.

“Your knot triggered my heat. I didn’t know why I was so irritable so Samual and I had a really ugly fight,” he whispered. His face nuzzled against Thomas’ scent glands. “It’s been two days, I just couldn’t take it.” Thomas winces at the thought. No partner, no hormone suppressants, those things were highly regulated. Plus the dysphoria from an off kilter heat cycle? Pure torture. He turns his head to kiss Damiano, while still crushing their bodies together. It’s a desperate move, to call another omega to hook up during heat. This was new.

“I’m sorry for calling you.” He gives Thomas all his weight and practically climbs him. “But I needed – needed you,” he pants. Damiano sounds much worse in person. The sheen of sweat and vein present on his forehead, points to him being in very real pain. His entire body is tense and Thomas is basically cradling him by his waist. This might be the most potent heat he’s personally seen. Thomas cycles were mild on both ends of the spectrum. That wave of protectiveness surges up again, at the same time Damiano’s eyes flutter closed.

“Cucciolo, cucciolo,” Thomas shakes him, till his eyes open. “Hey let’s go lay down.” He sweeps Dami off the floor, whose nose ends up back against Thomas’ neck. He starts lapping at his scent glands, which stops Thomas in his tracks. He’s never dealt with another omega in heat like this. Dami would sync up with him somewhat, but his pheromones never elicited a response at this level. Right now, Damiano was more omega than human, and that's never a space they’d entered together.

“You smell so, so good Tommy,” he panted. Thomas’ brain resumed, somewhat. Dami needed him to function right now because he couldn’t.

“You really must be horny if you think another omega smells good,” he chuckled, pushing the bedroom door open with his foot

“Mm mm, you smell amazing,” he moaned. He pulled himself upwards in Thomas’ grasp, and stuck his tongue harshly into Thomas’ scent gland. If Damiano hadn’t been hanging on so tightly he would have ended up on the floor. Scent gland stimulation was basically exclusive to mating pairs, or when both parties were in heat. Otherwise you’d end up gagging. In just the past few minutes Dami’s cycle had progressed dramatically, he was right on the edge of being an animal. It didn’t make sense, Thomas was an omega and not even in heat or rut, but Dami was clawing at him like a virgin during their first mating.

“Calm down cucciolo, it’s gonna be fine.” He sets Dami down on the bed and he starts taking off his clothes. Thomas mirrored him, but by the time he had his shirt off Dami was sitting naked and rock hard on the bed. The hazel in his eyes was gone, and there was a wet spot between his legs. The entire room smelled sweet and heady.

Thomas tried to avoid playing with fire in terms of his hybrid status, on the off chance that another omega in heat would trigger an alpha response. Damiano wouldn't have called unless he was truly desperate, and Thomas could see that was the case. Because he literally growled in impatience as Thomas took off his clothes, to the point he fell to his knees and undid Thomas pants.

There was no need for foreplay, he was plenty hard, but still Daminao took his cock all the way to the back of his throat. Something made his eyes roll back, tremble like he was about to cum. He pulled off, pushing Thomas down on the bed. Dami crawled between his legs and pressed his face to Thomas’ groin, taking in deep breaths. Nothing about his omega pheromones should compel Dami to do this. This kind of rapid chemical attraction within genders didn’t exist. Yet, Thomas was dizzy from Dami’s pheromones, could feel himself get wet, cock painfully hard where it leaked onto his stomach.

“Flip,” Daminao demanded, and Thomas did what he was told. Did Dami want to fuck him for some reason? As soon as Thomas was on his stomach, Damiano was rimming him, then slurping at his slick.

“What are you –”

“Tastes so good,” Damiano groaned. He grabbed Thomas’ hips and pulled them back, burying his head in Thomas’ ass. Biologically, this shouldn’t happen. An omega’s slick was, at most, mildly pleasant to another omega, not this.

“What do you mean?” He huffed. Dami wasn’t even properly eating him out, just licking up every bit of moisture. He switched to Thomas’ scent glands, and that felt like a lightning bolt up to his sternum.

“Too much, Dam!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he husked, and the movements of his tongue became softer, less frenzied, and pleasurable. The first real moan he let changed all of that. Dami started nipping below his glands, and then bit the meat of his glute. He hissed in pain, and pulled away. Damiano looked more startled than Thomas, like he’d forgotten he wasn’t with another alpha in heat. His inability to control his urge to bite was a sign that Dami was regressing. Some alphas drove their omegas to this point to watch them beg, or would take advantage of it. Good thing he picked up the phone, because otherwise…

“Okay, cucciolo, what can I do?” Dami is crouched on all fours at the end of the bed, chest heaving. He crawls towards Thomas, throwing himself down on the mattress, then pulling Thomas on top of him harshly.

“Knot me, now,” he demands.

“I can’t! I don’t know what happened the other day, I’m sorry it triggered a heat, but I don’t know how. I told you it was –”

“You can, you have to knot me. I need – you have to, you just have to. I can’t, I can’t do this anymore,” he begs, eyes welling up. His suffering hurts in Thomas’ chest, but he’s powerless in this situation.

“Damiano –”

“I need you to, I need it. So, just do it. God, please, please, please just do it, please,” he whimpers, clawing at Thomas, who's at a loss. There's no reasoning with him at this moment. Until he satisfies his base biological needs, Damiano won’t be able to focus on anything else.

“I mean, I can try,” he offers. “I don’t think I can though.” Damiano isn’t even listening. He's propping his hips up with a pillow, then looks around distressed. Putting together a complex thought in his state is nearly impossible.

“You need something to bite,” Thomas murmurs, digging through Dami’s bedside table stash of heat toys. Meanwhile, he’s dipping a hand between his legs and using the slick to lube Thomas up.

“Prep yourself too cucciolo,” he groans. By the time Thomas had found a chew, Dami was two fingers deep and working on a third. “Good boy,” he praised, prompting Dami to struggle to get Thomas’ cock inside him. “Hey, hey, hey, okay,” he soothed. “Here, take this,” handing over the toy. He focuses on positioning himself, while Dami’s hips seek out stimulation. Breaching his entrance is more Damiano than Thomas, and once the tip of his cock is inside, Damiano gets grabby. He pulls Thoams hips closer, making it hard for him to maintain balance.

“Stop that,” Thomas barks, surprising himself. Damiano simply nods and settles back into the bed, total obedience. His hungry eyes are begging for anything Thomas is willing to give, so he gives Dami everything he has. He holds Daminao’s legs up by his thighs and pushes in, half way, then all the way, and still for a moment, allowing him to adjust. He doesn’t seem to want the time for adjustment, but Thomas isn’t going to risk hurting him just because he can heal quickly.

“Calm down, you’re gonna be okay.” Daminao’s head is tossing from side to side, with his eyes screwed shut. His entire body is still tense, in a way that's unfamiliar to Thomas. Dami is the one person he can trust his instincts with, so when he gets the overwhelming urge to deliver deep, powerful thrusts, he gives in to it. Based on Damiano’s reaction, this is the right thing to do, but the pleasure only makes him more tense.

“Hey breathe.” He takes a gasping breath, thighs trembling in Thomas’ hands. Everything about his reaction is both elevated and stiff. “Breathe…breathe…breathe” he says softly, timing his thrusts. Damiano falls into rhythm with him, timing the movement of his hips against Thomas’.

“You’re such a good alpha,” he moans, spitting out the chew. But I’m not an alpha at all, Thomas thinks. “Knot me, knot me, knot me, please, please.” The tears start spilling again, his face blotchy. Thomas tries to give him more intensity with his thrusts, a tighter grip, steeper angle, soothing touch, but nothing solves it.

“I can’t, you know that,” he growls.

“Just try, just try,” he whispers. Thomas buries himself to the hilt and attempts to focus, pulling from that unfamiliar place inside him. He tries to summon up the testosterone of rut, remembering the feeling of being unable to hold back a knot.

“Just mate me, mate me,” Dami chants, pulling Thomas roughly. The moment is intense enough that frustration gets the best of him.

“Stop it. I’m trying to focus.”

“No, mate me, knot me,” he babbles.

“Stop it!” Thomas snaps, and feels the tell tale building of pressure from his bollocks. Nothing could have prepared Thomas for Damianos reaction. His body creates a vice grip like a key fitting into a lock. Thomas’ first response was to pull away, relieve the pressure, but that wasn’t an option. It was like his cock was being strangled, but in the most pleasurable sense possible. It was a contradiction of sensation, but Thomas knew all about contradictions. He just had to figure out how to deal with this one.

It's like the uncomfortable spot just before a powerful, hard earned orgasam, but multiplied. He tries to thrust and nearly cums the first time he feels the slide of their bodies together. Damiano was still so slick inside, and that allowed movement under such intense conditions. The stimulation was like nothing Thomas had felt. It knocked the wind out of him, and he ended up collapsing on Dami, who welcomed Thomas’ body with all four limbs.

“Sorry, sorry.” He tried to get his bearings, take his weight again, but Dami kept him close.

“Shh, hey, just take your time. This is your first, so it’s a lot.” Thomas finally managed a look at Dami’s face and found him there, muddled with the omega, but many times more present. His head had finally relaxed back on the pillow, he wasn’t straining. There still wasn’t a hint of hazel.

“Hey?” he gasped. Damiano rewarded his attempt at speech with a full smile. The moment being so dire and suddenly solved gave him whiplash. His balls felt tight and heavy with his seed, this wasn’t a normal build to orgasam. He tilted his hips to a new angle, and that was enough to leave him gritting his teeth, trying to hold back.

“Try thrusting a bit.” It was strange how suddenly the tables had turned. Now Dami was coaching Thomas not to lose his mind. He nodded and pulled his hips back, then stuttered forward. Dami’s body was pulling him in and Thomas alpha biology was demanding he obey. He gave a couple experimental thrusts, just trying to get his bearings. Progressively he thrusted further out, and Dami became restless and anxious.

“You can’t pull out,” he pleaded.

“I won’t,” Thomas assured. “I know, cucciolo.” They were both omegas after all, he wasn’t ignorant to the situation, maybe just its severity. He thrusted outwards, struggling to last, trying to find a place where the sensation wouldn’t be so intense, so he could make Dami cum too. Thomas hit some sort of barrier for Dami, because he clambered to pull Thomas against him and keep him there, compelled by instincts. Something about being completely surrounded and held by Dami’s body pushed Thomas over the edge, and left him reeling as he came..

“Christ, sorry,” Thomas mewled, still trembling.

“It’s okay,” Dami assured, and Thomas propped himself up to look at his face. In the past, when Dami had been knotted he’s also expected an orgasam. Admittedly those were very easy to achieve in the situation, but Thomas could last more than two minutes.

“No, lemme make you cum.” He tried to get a hand between their bodies, but Dami stopped him.

“Really, I’m okay. Take a sec.” And he did seem totally satiated, relaxed even. He really had needed a knot, because this Damiano was nothing like the one that answered the door. Curious, Thomas turned his head to lick Daminao’s scent glands, and was rewarded with a rush of elixir that made him twitch inside. Just this small reaction made him release a primal moan, arching upwards.

Thomas was clouded by a haze of euphoria. All he could feel was the heavenly friction where their bodies met, even with the slightest tilt of his hips. Despite Dami’s assurances, he couldn’t rest until they both finished. So, forcing presence of mind, he propped his shaking body up on one arm, and used the other to get Dami off. He tried to time his thrusts with his hand, so he rocked his hips back and forth, grinding as best he could.

Damiano’s cock pulsed with his heartbeat in Thomas’ hand. The room was so saturated with the mix of their pheromones, the smell of slick, sweat, and cum, that it hung heavy in the air like a tangible thing. Every undulation of their bodies resulted in the squelch of slick. At this point Thomas’ had mixed in too, and if it wasn’t for Dami’s grip, he would have slipped right out.

Damiano’s hips started tilting in time, and Thomas looked up to find his mouth open, drooling, and gripping the headboard. Thomas could feel the prominent veins, and looked down to see Dami’s shaft crimson red. Thomas hit some sweet spot inside him that he hadn’t encountered before, causing Dami’s hands to fly from headboard to his shoulder blades. If Thomas wasn’t so full of adrenaline Damian’s nails scraping down his back would have been painful enough to kill his arousal. In the moment he hardly noticed, trying to figure out the stimulation that had been so compelling a second ago. It wasn’t necessary, the slow build from Thomas’ hand and the satisfaction of his knot had Dami spilling all over his fist.

He gradually built up his thrusts, finally able to put some force behind into it, now propped up on both elbows. Accidently, he hit that instinctual barrier again with Dami clawing at his back.

“Don’t pull out, don’t, don’t!” he whined, eyes no longer half lidded, but wide open.

“Shh, cucciolo, I’d never leave you empty like that. You can trust me.”

“Okay, sorry. I know, it's just…Just, thank you,” he whined. Thomas glanced down, and found him still rock hard. If he could get a finger to Damiano’s prostate, he’d reach orgasam in a couple minutes, but there wasn’t room. He responded to that kind of stimulation so dramatically, if only he could target that area, oh. Thomas knot had brushed Damiano’s prostate.

Doing this blind and without dexterity, resulted in it taking more than a few tries to get the right type of friction. But, once he’d found Damiano’s p-spot, Thomas didn’t let up. Dami’s reaction was so visceral, that it made Thomas fight for focus. His chest heaved, and the build up of body heat had him dripping sweat. He couldn’t stay still, body restless and constantly moving like he couldn’t contain all the pleasure Thomas was delivering. His vocalizations didn’t even sound human, more canine.

Thomas worked tirelessly at massaging Dami’s p-spot with his knot, aiming his thrusts upward to maximize stimulation. He didn’t even realize that Damiano had cum a second time. Because as soon as he wrapped a hand around his dick, it was so quick. Thomas just kept working until his third orgasam, when he ejaculated so copiously that it hit the underside of his chin. Every tattoo glistened with cum. Thomas kept going.

Damiano’s hand fell from his cock, too wracked with pleasure to do anything. Thomas started to slow, but Dami’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head.

“Again,” he murmured. Thomas alternated between deep thrusts, and shallow ones that hit his prostate. His cock didn’t look capable of another orgasam, but that wasn’t the only way an omega could cum. He’d read about it, watched porn, but anal orgasms were really something only enjoyable between the partners creating them. It was all internal.

Having never experienced it before in his own heat, Thomas didn’t expect it, didn’t even understand at first. Why was Dami squeezing him even harder? He couldn’t move. It wasn’t until his muscles trembled and a wave of scalding hot liquid flushing past his cock did he realize what had happened. By total accident, he’d driven Damiano to a point where he was unable to open his eyes and nearly outright screamed.

“Again.” Thomas was about to check for consciousness, when Damiano spoke. In response to his anal orgasam Thomas had gotten another wave of pressure from deep in his groin, and this time he felt his knot form, or perhaps thicken. Damiano felt it too, because he rocked his hips against Thomas desperately, a couple tears falling.

“Again, again, again,” he begged, and Thomas obeyed. When he came, drops of slick ran all the way down to Thomas’ ankles. If it wasn’t for the heat of their bodies, he would be shivering because his pubic hair was soaking wet, totally saturated. If they were to leave the house right now, no one could tell their pheromones apart, they were so covered in the evidence of each other. They were one. That's what he was thinking as he worked Damiano through his orgasam.

“Again,” he murmured, every muscle relaxed into the mattress.

“Okay, okay. Let me just –” he sat back on his heels, trying to find a less exhausting angle. At this point, he has no idea what he was hitting. While the pleasure was nearly debilitating, he could’t feel where his cock ended and Dami’s walls started, except for the moment he tensed.

“Again,” A few thrusts in, Thomas came. He didn’t even realize he was about to, felt Damiano’s pleasure like it was his own, and didn’t know the difference. When it happened, Dami cried out in elation, head thrown back, full smile. He wiggled his hips, asking for that elusive more that Thomas was too exhausted to give to him. After his second orgasm, all he wanted to do was sleep.

“I can’t give you another, Dami. I’m sorry I’m not in rut,” he gasped

“Mm, but you’re going into rut,” he hummed.

“I – I don’t…ugh!” He was probably right, but Thomas hated not being in touch with own biology, and hated that he didn’t understand it.

“Just knot me one more time,” he pleaded.

“I can’t! I fucking can’t!” Even as he said the words, Thomas resumed thrusting. He tried to find the place inside him that knots came from and pull it forth, but after hours of mating everything was hazy. He only had the consciousness to do one thing: fuck, and he couldn’t even do that right. More than anything he just wanted to yell in anger, because this was supposed to be easy, and natural, and not like pulling teeth. The tears of frustration were hot as they ran down his face, and he wiped them away harshly, growling.

“C’mere bello.” Damiano tries to do grabby hands without the ability to lift his arms. He’s so fucking beautiful. Every desperate breath his muscles ripple, and his bone structure was carved by the gods. More than anything else, his entire body glistens: slick, pre-cum, cum, spit, sweat, glandular secretions, tears. He doesn’t look human or animal, just ethereal, and Thomas understands why alphas will take a bullet for omegas they’ve only mated once.

Thomas lowers himself back down, muscles shaking with exhaustion. He situates his head so his nose is pressed into Dami’s scent gland, taking deep gasping breaths. He does something Thomas doesn’t expect. With his last bit of energy, he reaches between Thomas glutes, and coats his hands with slick. Slowly, but with determination, he brings the hand up to his mouth and sucks on his fingers while moaning.

This compels Thomas to pull energy from a place he didn’t know existed, and start making lazy circles with his hips. Instead of forcefully pulling his alpha instincts forward, he falls back into this moment with Damiano. He lets himself be held, lets nectar from Dami’s scent glands drip down into his mouth. He doesn’t have to simulate his body’s response to their bond, because nothing about their connection is artificial.

All those years avoiding this, and it turned out to be an inevitability. An omega couldn’t knot, and that’s how he always saw himself: an omega with a birth defect, a deformity. Dami just saw him for what he was, a hybrid. And if he looked at himself through Damiano’s eyes, he was more than capable of knotting. When he felt the swell from his sack, Thomas collapsed in relief. Damiano clutched every part of Thomas’ body with every part of his, and held him.

“I don’t even know how to thank you, Tommy.” He simply nods and yawns, the prospect of sleep, oh so inviting.

“I’m gonna crush you, but I know you don’t want me to move,” he mumbles.

“I’ve been craving this exact sensation with you more than oxygen for the last five days. Please don’t change anything.” He’s basking in the scent of Thomas’ pheromones. His breathing has started to even out and slow, knot still snug inside Dami. Thomas presses a feather light kiss to Daminao’s scent gland then snuggled into his neck, much to Dami’s delight.

“Just go to sleep, this is perfect,” he gushes. Within three breaths, Thomas is out, but Dami stays semi-awake until the knot dissolves. Even then it takes him another 20 minutes to work up the courage to slide Thomas off of him. The only thing more brutal than the loss is Dami’s exhaustion. He curls up against Thomas and falls asleep as well.

He dreams of his fight with Samuel, the white hot rage is a tangible character. The shame and confusion have shadowy forms too. Even in his dream world, Damiano knows that he’s in heat, suffocated by anxiety with the knowledge that he’s going to have to do this without a single knot. Looking down from above, he sees himself in fitful sleep, enduring excruciating nights, with no end in sight. The sheet wrapped around his leg turns into a rope, then snakes. He wakes, violently craving a knot.

Thomas is on the other side of the bed, also not resting easy. Immediately, Dami can smell why. He’s in rut, but also totally drained. Damiano tries to resist waking him. He endures purgatory to the point he’s sure Thomas would want to be woken.

“Tommy, tommy,” he runs a hand down his bare chest instead of shaking him. “Thomas, I’m sorry, but wake up.” He moves to kissing Thomas scent gland and that rouses him almost immediately.

“Are you – are you okay?” he croaks, rubbing his eyes. Damiano can’t decide whether yes or no is a more honest response.

“I had a nightmare,” he says pathetically. Just tell him.

“Do you need a knot?” Damiano is taken aback by Thomas’ astuteness. He’d never dealt with another omega in heat.

“Um, yeah.” He could feel himself slicking up at the prospect of a knot. When Thomas turned over, Dami got a whiff of his pheromones, which only aggravated the situation.

“I can smell you,” Thomas smirked. Damiano felt himself blush deep red. “It's delicious, I’m gonna eat you out for breakfast in the morning.” Damiano was stunned, trying to remember a single reason why Thomas avoided Dami’s heats.

“Just, um let me shower first.” He felt tipsy and flushed, pushing back the covers because they were too hot. He was greeted with the sight of Thomas’ hardening cock. His eyes traced each curve, and he bit his lip bending over until Thomas stopped him.

“Let me shower first,” he mirrored. His tone was more demanding, but not domineering. It was refreshing, and sexy as hell. The first drop of pre-cum fell, sliding to the base of his cock, and collecting in his blond pubic hair. Daminao had a depraved idea that he couldn’t shake.

“Can I just smell you?” Thomas’ eye brows shut up, the dark brown such a flattering contrast to his dirty blond hair. He motioned for Dami to go ahead. He knew it was disgusting, but even so he pressed his face into Thomas’ pubic thicket, the soft hair tickling his face he held back a moan. This was where nearly every one of their bodily fluids had mixed together. It was what they smelled like, what getting knotted by him smelled like and he wanted to imprint it in his mind forever because it was glorious and gross. The musk that Dami had savored earlier was nothing in comparison to the heady pheromones emanating from Thomas’ scent glands now. He probably had no idea that he smelled like sex personified.

Without thinking, Damiano started kissing the root of his cock. He hadn’t given his alpha a single hand job or blow job, which wouldn’t do. They were already naked too, so all he needed was some lubrication. His mouth was too dry to use spit, but he had plenty of slick to spare.

“I can’t believe I forgot to make you drink water,” Thomas winces. “I’ll be right back.” When he gets out of bed, the nesting part of Damiano wants to yowl in descent. Why couldn’t they just stay in bed, alternating between sleeping and mating until his heat was over? Was that so unreasonable?

Thomas walks in with water and a handful of condensed meal bars, throwing a couple in front of Dami. He wasn’t interested in sustenance, he was interested in Thomas’ cock, which was still mostly hard, and definitely deserved attention.

“I’ll just eat in the morning,” dismissed Damiano. “If you just knot me we can go back to sleep and –” Thomas shook his head, opening a bar and handing it to him.

“Calories first. Hydrate,” he said, pushing Damiano to drink. He downed half the water bottle, and looked at Thomas expectantly.

“I’m fine, can’t we just –”

“No. You earn your knot by eating two of those.” Damiano scowled, but after a couple bites he realized he was starving and very thirsty. Thomas smiled watching him eat. Not smirked, smiled. There was nothing self-congratulatory about it. Taking care of Dami was plenty of reward. Thomas was settling into his alpha instincts comfortably, biologically validated by Daminao’s heat. This dynamic was novel, but comfortable. Rut was often described as putting blinders on, but it felt more like tunnel vision, and Damiano was the focal point of Thomas' entire world.

“How do you feel?”

“Um,” he took a sip of water. “From when you arrived? Indescribably better, but still anxious and just – I guess the closest word is uneasy.” He tone lilted up at the end, like a question. “Or, like, really uncomfortable. But that's kinda normal,” he assured, seeing Thomas concern.

“Let me knot you, cucciolo. Won’t that help?” he coos. Damiano just sort of throws himself at Thomas. Thomas is ready to catch him though, pulling his leg over so he’s straddling Thomas’ lap. While he rubs a cheek against Thomas scent gland, Thomas slides a hand down his back and starts thumbing at his hole, massaging the sensitive sphincter with the aid of slick. He works the first finger in with surprising ease, and the second one only takes a minute.

“You don’t have to prep me,” Dami suggests.

“I know that, but doesn’t it feel better?” Daminao nodded enthusiastically, feeling a fresh rush of slick splash on his thighs. “Plus it's so easy, now that you’re in heat, so it only takes a couple minutes anyways,” he hums, the timbre of his voice grounding. “And this is about your pleasure right?” It's a rhetorical question that still stops Dami in his tracks.

“Is it?” He lifts his head to look at Thomas, who slides a hand onto his cheek.

“What else would it be about?”” He guides Daminao into a kiss that very quickly turns desperate. Dami is hugging both arms around Thomas’ torso, mouth open to receive his tongue. As they make out, Thomas integrates a third finger, and works them in and out. Damiano isn’t counting, just enjoying the satiation of kisses with something in his ass too. He's become lost in it, so enjoying riding Thomas' fingers until he pulls away.

“Cucciolo, I’m about ten minutes away from being able to fist you, I think you’re ready,” he purrs. Damiano feels himself flush, but Thomas is right. Their level of trust has rendered him totally malleable. Thomas holds his cock upright, so Daminao can sink down on it. He’s nearly pressed the tip inside when he has a thought.

“Do I get my knot now?”

“Yes, of course, tesorino.” There's so much affection in Thomas’ voice. His omega’s eagerness is both endearing and extremely attractive.

“Okay, well I want it, um –” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to remember despite Thomas’ proximity making him feel drunk.

“A different position?” he asks, slowly.

“Laying down, with you behind me,” requested. “That way, we just go to sleep knotted.” Having his omega tucked against him the whole night sounded like an excellent idea to Thomas. He lay down on the bed after Dami, situating both their heads on a pillow, and pulling the blanket up. He gave his cock a couple strokes, much to Daminao’s dismay as he looked over his shoulder.

“I could have done that!” Thomas can’t help but chuckle.

“Are you ready, cucciolo?”

“Yes!” Damiano turned over, waiting impatiently, trying to mold his body to Thomas’. He nudged Dami’s entrance with the head of his cock before slowly pushing in. It was even more heavenly than last time. There was plenty of space and lube. Dami’s body was so demanding of his presence, that it gratefully welcomed Thomas cock. Now in rut, Thomas could actually mate Damiano, and the catharsis was like nothing he had felt before.

He started with some gentle thrusts and quickly worked his way up. Just when he was worried about the knot, could feel Dami wiggling in impatience, it formed and everything fell into place. Dami let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding as everything finally settled. Thomas’ hand slid over his waist, the soothing touch of skin against skin. Dami’s stomach was so sensitive and quivered when Thomas ran his hand over it, on the path down to his cock.

He started working his shaft, then took his hand away for a moment, and returned it glistening. Thomas was using his own slick to get Dami off, and it was almost too much right then and there. As soon as Thomas moved, he shuttered from the stimulation. He wasn’t surprised by Damiano’s reaction to his knot, but it wasn’t any less drastic. The friction, the slick that dripped from him onto Thomas’ thighs. He wanted to get Dami off because he wasn’t going to last. Damiano let out a whine of frustration.

“What is it?” Thomas huffed.

“Please, just cum. Don't try to hold it off,” he pleaded.

“But I –”

“Experiencing your orgasam is more pleasurable than my own, so just please, please.” Thomas dropped his hand and focused on getting proper momentum, pushing himself to climax. In Dami’s tight heat, it took less than a minute, and he was cumming copious amounts, the type of volume you only get in rut. But this time, with their cycles synching up, it felt like having something pulled from him. He came and came, hot spunk plugged inside Dami from his knot. Just when he thought he couldn’t get any tighter, Damiano’s walls spasmed around Thomas’ cock, causing him to hiss in pain.

Damiano didn’t seem to notice, he moaned in pleasure, hips rolling back, trying to take anything else Thomas had to give him. In response, Thomas grabbed his hips and pulled Dami down onto his cock. It didn’t make any difference to him, but Dami squeaked in delight. Thomas resumed his hand job, rolling his pelvis in time, and Dami clawed at the fitted sheet, letting out guttural sounds from the back of his throat.

Thomas had never seen anyone enjoy sex this much, besides in porn, but then was entirely different. There's no smell, no sensation, no radiant body heat in porn. Daminao actually sounded like he was in pain again, and Thomas was just about to check on him when he felt Damiano’s cock throb. Viscous semen spilled over his fist. Dami trembled in his arms, then relaxed completely, except where he was holding the knot.

“Better?” Thomas checked.

“Mhm. If you don’t,” he was interrupted by a yawn. “If you don’t get enough time knotted it just…it just all goes to hell. Its fucking awful. It’s like, um…you feel wrong, inside. But now, everything is right, so…” He yawns again, humming contentedly. He could feel Thomas’s semen, hot and plentiful, deep in his pelvis. It was like being hugged from the inside out. He would have been satiated without the orgasam.

“Let's go to sleep,” Thomas coached. Damiano was all too happy to do as his alpha asked, but he still had a choice. Thomas’ pheromones weren’t forcing him into submission, he was letting himself be lulled. Some omegas liked the subservience, but Dami merely bore it. If every one of his future heats was like this, he could die happy, and that could only happen with Thomas.

Notes: Not a new fic! This chapter is about a year old it just seems ridiculous to have “AO3 exclusives.” If this isn’t your thing (immensely understandable) you can opt out of both omegaverse and band member x band member on my taglist.

-Eden XOXO

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