#Because someone wrote me a gift for my birthday once and it was the most precious thing I received that day

[jasontoddiefor]

Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

[yoonginismobsessed]

Wow, writing about Kaiser once again, but this time I didn't come to slander him.

Tw: Angst/hurt, gn reader, several mentions of his trauma, abuse mention, use of the word "fuck", "sex" once and explicit language. this may trigger sensitive people, if you are, please do not read. Maybe OOC. I used translator, so there may be some translation errors.

I'm a beginner writer and this is my first attempt at writing angst, I don't have a concrete opinion on what the hell I wrote below.

I'm not good at giving warnings, but I think this little warning should have already made you aware.

Kaiser fangirls, this is an apology for slandering your man.

My birthday is tomorrow, so this is a gift from me to you guys lol.

I can't stop you from interacting, but I'll tell you one thing, my warning has already been given.

Michael doesn't know what it's like to love anyone other than himself, and he probably never will. His childhood traumas definitely changed the way he thought and saw the world when he was still a child. The fact that he wanted to be loved even when he was going through all of that doesn't make this contextualization taken directly from an unreliable source, which is my mind, any better. Behind all that narcissistic arrogance, there's still a fragment of that mentally fragile boy who lived with his abusive father. Kaiser hates that, he wants to get rid of it as soon as possible, but he's aware that traumas are never completely forgotten or simply left in his mind, they would just become another one of the thousands of memories buried in his hippocampus. Kaiser has learned to live with his traumas, although there are times when he physically takes it out on himself in addition to his own mental exhaustion, but damn, he's fully aware that his interior responsible for controlling his entire body, mind and actions is totally fucked up. He can't make an effort to love someone, maybe he'll use you for his own benefit if he finds it useful, he'll fuck your body when he's mentally frustrated to try to get rid of that familiar feeling that eats away at his insides through the most impure means a human being can provide. Sex is temporary, memories aren't. Sometimes he won't even look you straight in the face because he thinks you don't deserve the emperor's gaze. You are just there to relieve his frustrations. There's nothing else he wants from you other than that. This twisted cycle will last until Kaiser gets tired of you and looks for someone else. He knows he'll have no problem finding someone else when he's a man with striking features, a handsome face that masks the rot beneath, but what's eating away at his body on the inside isn't so pretty. That's another matter.

I tried to fix it and changed some words.

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

Nimona headcanons that I wrote in like 15 minutes don’t judge me

I feel like both Bal and Ambrosius are the kinds of people who try and act like they’re not sick 

Bal has an amazing immune system he rarely if ever gets sick 

But when he does get sick he’ll be in absolute denial about it 

If someone confronts him all he’ll say is “No I’m fine I don't get sick” and then he’ll push himself until he’s literally sitting in a hospital still acting like he’s not sick 

Ambrosius has the worst immune system you can possibly imagine 

Someone sneezes on this boy and he’s sick for the next two weeks 

But he’s also sick enough times that he’s convinced himself that he can work through anything 

After a while he’s literally forced to relax and be taken care of and he complains the entire time that he should be working 

I’ve kind of alluded to this headcanon but I don’t think Nimona can get sick

But if she could get sick she would be the most annoying person known to mankind 

She would have a sore throat and make the biggest deal about it and force the boys to take care of her

And the boys will comply because this is one of the few times that Nimona lets them take care of her 

I mentioned in this post tags that they all hand make every single present 

The first thing that Bal ever made/gave Ambrosius was welded rose that he made out of scrap metal 

He thought it was a stupid present but Ambrosius got super emotional and said it was the best present he had ever received 

Bal highly doubted that cause Ambrosius literally got a car as a birthday present once 

But then he saw it in a little vase that Ambrosius made and it became kind of a tradition after that

During every big event in their lives Bal welded Ambrosius a rose and he kept every single one 

By the time the knighting ceremony rolled around he had close to 80

Ambrosius made more heavy-duty vases just to hold all of the flowers 

It’s kind of sweet because you can see both of their hobbies improving as the years go on 

The first gift Bal ever got from Ambrosius was a sweater he crochet himself 

He made it cause he knows that Bal runs cold and he would make off-handed comments about it every once and a while

He was kind of nervous cause he never took on a project that big before 

Bal wore it all the damn time 

He treated that sweater like it was gold which is why he was crushed when it started unraveling 

He went to Ambrosius sobbing with an arm full of yarn apologizing and saying he ruined it

Mind you he gave him that sweater like 5 years prior and had knitted and crocheted him a million things afterwards 

It was a miracle that the sweater lasted as long as it did 

He spent the entire night consoling him while asking for his input on the new one he was currently working on 

The first gift Bal and Ambrosius gave Nimona made him tear up and cling to them as an actual koala for the rest of the night 

Bal welded him a little dragon and Ambrosius crocheted him a little rhino

The first gift Nimona gave the boys was for both of them

It was a painting of the three of them the boys thought it was beautiful but also incredibly out of character 

Until they gave them the second painting of the three of them fighting guards as the institute burned down behind them

The boys framed both and hung them in the living room

Whenever Ambrosius goes anywhere he’s swarmed by groups of people and sometimes those people will ask questions about his clothes and jewelry 

And he gets this proud look in his eyes while he says “Oh my kid made this in the living room 15 minutes before I left the house” 

When Bal proposed he actually made both the engagement and their wedding rings 

He always got compliments on both rings and Ambrosius would let them get a better look while gushing about all the little details that were put into it

And this doesn’t stop when Bal and Nimona are around either 

In fact he’ll drag them over and gush about them while they get progressively more embarrassed

[morallysuperiorlips]

How I Come Up With Compelling and Fun Characters!

Back at you again with another TedTalk.

Coming up with well-rounded characters is my favorite part of the writing process. I like to come up with convoluted plots, so ofc convoluted characters have to follow. While I am someone who is VERY guilty of injecting my own traits/experiences into my characters (because I like to live vicariously through them or use them to cope don't @ me), I try to do that once I've established them as their own people. Because then they just end up being other versions of me, and we don't want that trust me

The adage I like to live by is "when the character feels real to you, they'll feel real to the reader," so I try to go out of my way to know as much as I can about them before I start to put them down on paper.

I know full names, birthdays (down to the hour), exact heights, blood types, favorite colors, foods, etc. and I try to know most of the surface-level things. I'll try to delve a little deeper but I do like to let my characters breathe when I'm writing them because sometimes they do things that make me stare into the camera like I'm on the Office and I want to give them the room to do so because that's like 60% of the process (in my humblest of opinions as a self-taught/ professional hybrid)

When I first started writing my novel, I could tell you off the top of my head that my protagonist, Odette Harmonie Cinq-Mars, was born in the little fictional town of Pendulum Province, France on December 14th, 1997 at 8:16pm, her blood type is AB+, she's 5'0, she's left-handed, and her favorite color is royal purple. I could also tell you she has anger issues, is hyper-observant, is a classically trained singer and dancer, and is kind of cold as a person. That last trait ended up writing most of itself out as she developed, but it's how she started, and I never got much deeper than that until I wrote her.

But, rewinding a little bit, I like to come up with ideas for my characters from tropes and stereotypes. My truest formula for coming up with characters is:

Trope/Archetype

- Some tropey traits

+ Traits you might not normally see in that trope/archetype

+ As many details as possible

+ Putting them in random situations that come to mind and watching them figure it out (even if it might be unrelated to the plot)

+ A little bit of yourself (always optional)

For example:

My "tropiest" character's name is Noel Masse; he was heavily based on the archetype of the peacocky gay theater kid who kinda has a hoe streak. Before you come for my neck, hear me out.

What are traits of this trope I could erase (or heavily modify) for him? From my experience theater kids get kinda cliquey--not all, but some--Noel has his friends, but he's the type who wants to be friends with everyone. He doesn't like to judge unless people give him a reason to. Theater kids might have their heads in the clouds all the time, and Noel airs on the side of keeping himself grounded when he needs to.

What are some odd traits I could add to him? What can I expand on? Noel has severe indecision--he's a theater kid who doesn't know if he wants to be theater kid. He has dedicated his life to being a musical theater star, but he has a calling in mystery solving, coding, and all things tech. This indecision often cripples him, and even seeps into his love life, which leads to some promiscuity~

What are the little details I know about Noel? Noel Coretyn Masse is a natural born witch, born in a little (fictional) city in France called Athamera on September 9th, 1997 at 12:11am. He is 6'0, 175 pounds, blood type O-, ENFP-T, right-handed, his favorite color is royal blue, and he has a gifted vocal octave range (3.8), and is very good at most forms of dance.

What scenarios have I put him in that helped him build? This was actually how I decided he was good with technology and all things coding, hacking, computers, etc. I figured out he was good at this stuff when I needed a character to hack something later on in the story and I threw him into the mix just to see what would happen and it stuck IMMEDIATELY. So, this category can also help build category 2 for sure.

Bits of me? His dedication to the arts and his desire for a large friend group hope I didn't just roast myself lol

DISCLAIMER: I want to make a note for anyone who thinks that this is overkill: yes, it probably is. But, I also want to note that I have been told time and time again that my characterization in my stories is my strongest point. So, clearly I'm doing SOMETHING right here.

I also want to note that this is NOT the "correct" way of coming up with characters. In fact, I don't think there is a "correct" way (as is with most things artistic and creative). This is just MY way of doing things. If you have a way that you come up with characters that works for you, I'd love to hear about it!

[insult-2-injury]

To Crush a Foe

Tartaglia x f!reader NSFW 6K

Wrote this months ago for @chickenparm and her hydro husband 💦

AO3 Link (fluff, pining, fingering, p in v, dirty talk, friends to lovers, reader is traveler)

~ ~ ~ ~

Surreal. That was the word you decided on; that strange fusion of emotion that went along with the final crushing of a former foe. Not in the crossing of swords, this time, no, but in the acceptance of a simple invitation.

Gods, if someone had told you one year ago you’d be sitting here eating supper with Childe’s family, you would have had yourself a good laugh right in their face.

“How did you fare on the ship ride over, dear?”

“Hm?”

His mother smiled. The charming ease of it was uncannily reminiscent of your red-haired travel companion beside you, who only smirked at your quiet, nervous reverie. If you sat anywhere else, outside the comforts of Childe’s kitchen maybe, you’d smack him upside the head in an instant for that.

You’d avoid such confrontation here. 

“It was great!” You felt your face heat at the over-enthusiastic crack in your voice. Why were you so nervous suddenly? You had nothing to prove here. “Truthfully, I stayed inside the cabin most of the trip. Here I thought Dragonspine was cold.”

“Well I’m certain you’ll adapt just fine,” his mother said. “From what we’ve heard, you’re quite the adventurer. Our Ajax is lucky to have you.”

You blinked. You weren’t stupid. You knew what it looked like: the implication of him bringing you here. You could only hope that Childe had set the record straight: that you were just two people who had put aside a lifetime of differences in order to tolerate the other. Friends, you’d almost call it. Comrades, he would say in that unerringly cheerful voice of his.

You nearly jumped when Childe’s palm reached to wrap the top of your leg beneath the table, squeezing slightly.

“Forgive her for the spaciness, mother, she’s not used to the company of humans.”

You whipped your head over to him with an incredulous frown, dislodging his too familiar touch by crossing your legs. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Relax. I only mean she has an… interesting array of travel companions.” You narrowed your eyes at the impish grin crawling across his lips, both of you knowing full well he’d be calling Paimon a floating flour bag if his mother weren’t sitting right there.

“Oh what, like you’re just some ordinary guy?”

He chuckled. “Far from it!” The table creaked as he leaned forward on his elbows, addressing his siblings.

“I kid, of course. It’s just as I said in my letters home. The traveler here has embarked on adventures all across Teyvat, each more impressive than the last. It’s a wonder she doesn’t have a big head.” He gestured with his fork toward Tonia, Teucer, and Anthon, who sat like grinning ducks in a row. “You know… you’d be wise not to mess with her.”

The back of your neck prickled and you reached up to scratch at the heat. The center of attention was never a spot you particularly enjoyed. 

“I’m not so scary.”

“See,” Childe said, leaning forward conspiratorially, “this one’s as tricky as they come. Don’t let her fool you, she’s a force. May have even knocked the wind out of me once or twice.”

You’d done more than that. You shook your head, something tender and nervous fluttering in your chest at the flattery.

“Enough talk about me,” you said, waving him off and addressing the kids. “Tell me about your adventures.”

And as they did, you became lost in thought.

Why had you accepted his invitation again?

Oh yeah, because he’d been relentless about it. Sending you letter after letter to come visit his family, along with pictures. Pictures of the gifts he’d sent over for his younger siblings' birthdays, the extravagant meals he’d eaten on his latest adventures. So many letters and pictures that it became something of suspicion to your other traveling companions. 

And you were hopelessly intrigued, warmed by the trust he put in you, each battle making it progressively harder to find a way to dig into that diminishing well of rancor in your chest that had existed so strongly only a year prior. 

But you’d pushed that flicker of affection aside and you’d told him to cut it out, that sending you messages across Teyvat was nothing short of reckless, but he’d matched your fervor with a cheeky smile.

“What, a guy can’t send a letter to a friend?” he’d said before unleashing a torrent of hydro upon you.

And he had worn you down– so much so that one day you’d just… accepted. Plain and simple; sent a single word answer back: Fine.

Gods, you wanted to fight him. You wanted that hand on your thigh again.

“Did Ajax get you properly packed, then?”

“Hm?”

She smiled and repeated herself.

“Oh. Sort of. He sent a checklist and I did the rest. I did get an – unnecessary – talking to about my wardrobe selection on the way here, though.”

Childe smirked. “All she packed were pretty little sundresses-”

“He’s lying.”

His booted feet crossed at the ankles as he balanced back in his chair, chin tilted down so he could properly examine you.

“I did give you a bit of a hard time, didn’t I, traveler? You weren’t too happy with me at all.” He reached over and playfully flicked a loose piece of hair that had been covering the full extent of your side glare. He laughed and turned to his mother. “You should’ve seen the way she was huddled up in the cabin, it was quite the entertainment. Folded herself up like the cutest little block of ice.”

Your heart skipped a beat, face heating, but he seemed all too casual. Cute? Who was he calling cute? You vowed to serve his head on a platter at the next family meal.

“It’s much colder at sea,” you muttered. 

“You wouldn’t believe it now, mother, but there was a time she’d have had my head for teasing her like this.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t rule that out just yet.” Your eyes darted across the table to meet his mother’s twinkling gaze. You felt the uneasy furrow in your brow immediately begin to smooth and softly, you smiled back at her.

Childe re-crossed his arms cheerfully. “Luckily we’re on better terms now, aren’t we traveler?”

“Not for much longer.”

His family laughed. Unable to meet his gaze, you dropped your eyes to your plate, clanking your silverware around, feeling like a nervous child.

The rest of supper was uneventful, all things considered. You told them of your adventures; the choleric skies of Inazuma, the rolling hills of Sumeru, embellishing a bit only for the benefit of the younger Teucer, who sat on his hands, looking between Childe and you with a shining devotion.

The boy, then, with the enthusiasm of a dog with a bone, launched into the story of that day at the “toy factory”, when you’d seen the first glimpses of the shadows Childe hid inside. It both pleased and saddened you to know that the boy held the memory so close to his heart. 

So shockingly in tune you were with the outward flow of Childe’s energy that it was impossible to ignore the near imperceptible shift in his demeanor. You peeked at him. Childhood had to end somewhere, of course, but knowing what you did about Childe, the last breath of innocence had come for him much too soon. Which made Teucer’s fearlessness all the more troubling to him.

“I worry.” Childe had written to you once in a letter. “I was never so bold as him. Not then at least.”

Those shadows of himself, they weren’t so easily hidden from you now.

Childe’s fingers tapped lightly upon his thigh and like a rubber band pulled taut, your hand snapped toward him with zero destination, your heart solely aching with the sudden need to comfort. He stilled, gaze dropping surprised on your fingers fluttering uncertainly upon the bare skin of his forearm.

Embarrassed, you moved to pull away, but quick as a flash, his hand snatched you back, warm, gloveless fingers capturing yours, threading them through and tightening. 

Teucer kept talking, everyone clueless but perhaps his attentive mother to the pyro burst that had just singed through your every waking nerve, something a lot like terror running rampant through your veins. Your skin felt too hot at the simple touch, stomach too tight. 

You jumped when Childe chuckled at Teucer’s exuberance. His hand idly squeezed yours, thumb rubbing idle circles into the skin between your thumb and index finger. When his head quirked to the side and found you quietly studying him, the corner of his lips began to curl into the makings of a soft smile.

You looked away, swallowing around the tightness in your throat.

He liked to be near people; liked to hug and touch arms and ruffle hair. But this was a gesture that implied the two of you spoke often through touch. 

Well, you suppose that wasn’t entirely untrue. 

You fought often, after all, and battle was an intimate affair; breaths intermingling, swords locking as you met in the middle again and again. Insults would fly, sweat would mix, your own gasps of exertion displacing that damp lock of ginger hair that always plastered to the center of his forehead when you’d been at it for awhile. The mere thought of it now had heat pooling like liquid gold in your belly.

You yanked away from the intimate grip and flew up from your seat to start helping his mother at the sink. With a yawning stretch, Childe stood and started clearing the rest of the dishes and your heart squeezed at the sight of this domestic side of him.

Teucer’s arms wrapped your legs from behind. “I’m so glad you’re dating my brother.”

The laugh on your lips turned into a choke as your brain short-circuited, thoughts turning to mush as your eyes widened on Childe, who’d frozen mid-step, a stack of dishes fitted into the crook of his elbow. You could almost see the cogs turn in his mind as mischief flared in his eyes like a lit match, terribly devilish when coupled with the slight upturn of his lips. He cocked his head at you as if to say “well?” a tuft of autumn hair falling across his eyes. 

Gently, you detached yourself from the boy. “We’re- we’re not uh…”

Teucer’s brows furrowed, shoulders falling in disappointment. 

“You’re not? But…” He looked to his older brother.

There was something so sad in the boy's voice that you hesitated and the silence grew incriminating, thicker and thicker until his mother stepped in. 

“Teucer, sweetie-”

“We are,” you blurted, voice pitching unnaturally. “Yeah, uh. We are.”

“I knew it!”

Teucer beamed up at you and then let out a loud whoop, running away with his arms raised high.

You blinked. Oh Archons, you’d said it. You’d just said yes. You’d lied, sealed yourself off to a fate of the worst kind of humiliation at the hands of your former foe. You didn’t think it was possible for your cheeks to get any hotter.

Childe regarded you from beneath his brows and you quickly looked away from his terribly unreadable expression.

He turned to his mother abruptly. “So how are the fish biting this season?”

Oh, you were going to kill him.

The rest of the night was a blur. You didn’t address Childe and he disappeared anyway, making himself busy putting the kids to bed as you helped clean up and chatted with his mother, who blessedly didn’t mention your gaffe.

You hardly remembered what half-baked excuse you’d murmured in order to excuse yourself. You thanked her for dinner, bundled up quietly, and headed out into the bone-chilling cold, the bitterness a balm for your frayed nerves. 

You approached the tiny guest house.

Gods, what spun out lie would you have to come up with to get out of this one? You considered slipping away into the night as you turned the key in the lock.

The room was pitch black and you fumbled for a good few seconds for the light before cursing, finally conjuring up a crackling ball of electricity in your palm.

“Hey, girlie.” You yelped and crashed back against the door right as light blossomed across the one room house. “Took you long enough.”

Childe was eyeing you lazily from his laid back position on your bed, looking wholly bored. Like you’d kept him waiting for hours. His hands were laced over his sternum, fingers tapping an unheard rhythm.

“What is wrong with you?” you hissed. “What is your insistence on always slinking about like some creepy old ghoul?”

“A ghoul?”

“You almost scared me to death!”

“Oh,” he said casually, propping himself up on his elbows. “Well it would be awfully depressing if after all this time I lost you to a bit of fright.”

You set your jaw and marched over to light the small fireplace, shrugging out of your coat, anxiety surging forth to take the place of the adrenaline ebbing out of your system, your hands shaking slightly as you stoked the fire. The image of him propped up on your bedspread was a tantalizing one. His gaze prickled at the back of your neck.

“Freezing in here,” you muttered. A chuckled response at your nervousness had you spinning around to pin him with a lethal glare, the fire behind you swelling at your call.  Your hand instinctively went to grab the hilt of your sword, only to remember it lay packed away in your bag. So your arm whipped out to point at him accusingly.

“What are you even doing in here? Get out!” 

“There she is,” Childe said, his voice almost reverent as his eyes flicked across you. “Stay right there, traveler. Perfect. You know, you’re quite the pretty picture like that.” A small thrill shuddered through you at the flicker of dark excitement in his eyes, there and then gone. His palms raised in mock surrender when your nose scrunched, fists balling angrily at your sides. “Hey, no need for theatrics. You’re my guest, after all. What kind of host would I be if I didn’t make sure you made it home safe?”

Your focus flickered briefly to the wide spread of his long legs.

“On my twenty foot journey over here?”

His head fell against his hunched shoulder with a teasing grin. “Who knows what sort of ghouls lurk around the forests of Snezhnaya?”

“I mean, I’d hope you would.”

Childe shrugged. “I do,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t let my best girl leave without so much as a goodnight.”

A shocking brightness blossomed in your chest and you set your jaw against it.

“Okay. If this is about what I said earlier… it was a slip of the tongue and I’m embarrassed enough as is so-”

“C’mere.”

“No.” 

His mouth tilted into a fond smile. “Please?” He pushed himself to sit fully upright, leaning forward, elbows coming to prop atop his knees. You squinted as if he’d grown a second head. “Come on. I have something for you.”

“Last time you said something to that effect, I was nearly crushed by a whale.”

“It’s nothing like that. Swear on it.” He placed an earnest hand over his heart. “Besides, this shack is far too small, not much merit in taking us both out, don’t you think?”

“You’ve done crazier things.” You drew on your dwindling anger. “Like calling me cute.”

“You are cute,” he said. “Especially when you get all spitty with me like this. Now come here. Please. Don’t make me beg.”

You swallowed, fingers twitching at your sides, a sudden desire thrumming a needy tune between your legs. Bracing yourself, you stiffly closed more space between the two of you, still stopping several feet away.

He hummed disapprovingly. “Closer. Come on. You scared or something?”

“I’m plenty close. And if you hand me a stupid beetle or something, I’ll kill you.”

His hand flew out to grab a fistful of your shirt and yank you forward with a squeal. “Childe!” you shouted, catching yourself against his shoulders.

“There we go,” he said softly, your faces only inches apart. “Not so bad like this, is it?” He reached behind him. You relinquished your hold on his shoulders but his knees tightened around your thighs to keep you moving away. And for the first time, your instinct was to stay. 

“Here,” he said, pleased. “Tonia told me to give this to you.” A single flower was in his hand, a beautiful coral red star with giant, shimmering petals.

You struggled to find words in the following silence. “Oh…”

“Do you like it?” The dark stem of a dendrobium spun between his agile fingers as he stared at it in thought. “I suppose you’d already know it’s a rare thing to come across one. There’s a legend in Inazuma that says dendrobiums can only grow in the wake of spilt blood. The bloodier the soil, the prettier and bigger the petals. Someone smart as you could probably puzzle out why I’m drawn to such things.” 

Your nervous swallow was excruciatingly loud. “How would Tonia have-”

“Traveler…” he scolded quietly. Your breath cut embarrassingly short when his teasing gaze rose to meet yours. “You know how it hurts my heart when you don’t listen. I never said Tonia picked it herself. Just that she advised me to give it to you. After all, it was you that came to mind when I spotted it poking out so colorfully from between the rocks. Do you mind?” 

His hand rose and he waited before taking your frozen, doe-eyed gaze as permission to sweep his fingers ghostlike up your cheek to push a fallen strand of hair behind your ear, sliding the flower into your hair.

The significance of his words hit you with the force of a raging Sumpter beast. He’d picked a flower for you. Such a simple gesture, yet your heart slammed in your chest. 

Was this all some ploy? Your throat tightened further when you found no such evidence, bottom lip warbling slightly.

“Thanks,” you said carefully.

Slowly, studying you closely for any signs you meant to pull away, Childe curled his index fingers into your belt loops. His lips quirked when you allowed him to tug you further into him, until you were nestled fully within the heated framework of his thighs. 

“What you said earlier at dinner,” he murmured. “You made me wait a long time to hear you admit that.”

“Admit what exactly?”

“That we’re something special, you and I.”

Childe latched onto your wrist, massaging gentle circles into your knuckles. When you wobbled on your feet, he twisted your palm upward to press a lingering kiss to the center of it and you shuddered, lips parting slightly. A pleased, catlike smile toyed at the corner of his mouth.

“Are we together, traveler, like you said?”

With one hand, you gripped the base of his chin between forefinger and thumb, the latter sweeping upward to explore the outline of his lips before tracing slowly up the curve of his jawline in thought. He hummed at your touch, the sound low and drawn out, sending a shock of heat between your legs. Your face burned and you opened your mouth. Shut it. Opened it again.

“I didn’t mean to say that earlier-”

In one swift movement, Childe’s grip had tightened on your wrist and he’d yanked you toward him, using the momentum to whirl you onto the middle of the bed with a cry of surprise. Intent on giving him an angry earful, you shoved yourself up, propped on your palms. But the words swelled and stuck in your throat at the roguish gleam in his eyes, the bed dipping as he crawled toward you.

Without any thought, your legs fell apart to allow him through.

“I’m going to have to disagree with you,” he said, advancing still, forcing you to retreat backward, flatten yourself until all you knew was his pretty face hovering above yours, his weight settling between your legs. “You never say things you don’t mean.”

Your heart clattered, chest rising with shallow breaths that drew his gaze downward. 

“Maybe. But sometimes I do say things before I’ve thought them all the way through.”

“Mm, you’re not so wrong about that.” He lowered onto his elbows until the tip of his nose nearly brushed yours. 

“I guess I just didn’t think before I said it,” you stammered. “Your brother seemed so confident and I didn’t…” You squeezed your eyes shut. “I didn’t know if you wanted that.”

Your skin burned white hot at the admission. Did he know just how vulnerable you were allowing yourself to be right now? The terror that lit through your chest when you thought about him not feeling the same way?

Childe grinned. “It’s a shame you’re blind as well as loose-tongued. Well, it would be pretty awkward to take it back now, yes? So I guess you’re stuck with me in the meantime.”

You laughed, the ball of tension easing in your chest. 

“I think your family likes me alright,” you said quietly and he laughed at the change of subject.

“They do. A little too much, I’m afraid. We’ll have to make sure Teucer doesn’t smuggle himself along in your bags.”

You looked up at him, a long felt but never before addressed emotion swelling almost painfully in your chest. “You’re rare, you know,” you blurted. “I’ve never- I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Childe’s eyes softened. “I can hardly believe you’re real sometimes.”

Foregoing further words, you spread your legs all the way, inviting him to nestle more fully into the crux of your thighs. His breath stuttered across your lips at the hard press of his erection against your front. You bit your bottom lip, holding in a smirk. “I’m plenty real when I beat you in every fight–”

Matching your energy immediately, two large hands cupped your face, thumbs bracing beneath your chin to gently lever your mouth shut. “Shhh,” he murmured, slowly bending down to press a kiss to each corner of your mouth. “We can get to the bottom of that another time. But for now just… behave.”

A tiny whine from you was all it took for him to finally press his lips against yours.

The room dimmed and sharpened all at once. The muscles on his arms and back turned boneless beneath your fingers as he sighed into your mouth, as if your lips working back against his were a long-awaited antidote. It was slow, sweet. His thumbs traced gentle half moons under your eyes and his tongue dipped in tentatively before he grew bolder, gaining ground when you parted your lips in response to a well-timed drag of his hips.

A hand smoothed down your hair, coming to cradle the back of your head, pulling you in like he could inhale you completely, until it was bruising and raw and exhilarating; a different kind of battle entirely.

Your fingers worked clumsily at the buttons of his shirt from the top down, ghosting over the raised skin of old scars as you went. His breath hitched beneath your touch, the skin of his abdomen tightening and jumping as you teased beneath the hem of his pants before working unsuccessfully at his belt buckle.

“Stupid Sneznhayan bullshit…” you hissed against his mouth.

The hand in your hair tightened and you let out a humiliating noise, abandoning his belt and finding purchase in his shirt, using it to lever your hips up into his. Grinding to relieve some of the ache pulsing between your thighs. An amused laugh puffed against your cheek at your frustration and his head dropped to murmur against your ear.

“I do love your determination. It’s one of my favorite things about you. But it would be a shame to rush through this first part, don’t you think?”

His hand cupped the opposite side of your face so he could plant a firm, lingering kiss to your temple while the other now ran up and down your side.

“Be patient with me?”

“Sure thing,” you said hoarsely right before his thumb found and circled the pert bud of your nipple through your shirt. You shuddered violently against him, legs wrapping his hips mindlessly, yanking him in. “Actually no. No, no, no.”

Childe laughed but the noise was tattered around the edges.

“Always figured you’d be greedy in bed.”

“Archons, y-you’re so annoying sometimes.”

He nipped your bottom lip, sharp and punishing, drawing back to look at your disoriented expression. 

“I want you to do something for me,” he said, raising his shoulder further so he could wedge the wandering hand in between you. 

“Wha-?” you squeaked, hips dipping into the bed to assist. 

“Will you tell me about the day we met?” 

The request was unexpected. Kind of wholesome if it weren’t paired with the slide of his palm between your thighs, cupping gently along the curve of your pussy through the fabric of your pants. Oh gods. You shuddered, eyes fluttering shut. It felt so deliriously good, just being held by him like this. With the heat of his palm unmoving and his bare skin just two layers away from yours.

“You don’t remember?” you croaked. He drew just his middle finger firmly up the seam and back down, catching your clit, your spine arching upward like you’d been hit by an electro burst. 

“Of course I remember,” he said, brows furrowing at you as if the question was offensive. “But we’ve all got our versions to tell. Let me hear yours.”

“I was–” 

You paused nervously as Childe’s lazy grin turned almost smug. He worked with only one hand at your belt, his eyes attentively on yours as he showed you up, unclasping and tugging until the two ends separated. He undid the button beneath with a deft thumb and forefinger. Without being asked, your hips raised, wriggling as he sat back on his heels to slowly tug your pants and underwear off.

You thanked your past self for lighting the fireplace as the open air hit the glistening wetness of your spread cunt. Childe’s gaze roved unabashedly, his fingers at his own waist now, undoing the clasp of his belt but going no further. His eyes flicked back up to yours with a devout intensity before he shrugged out of his shirt.

“Go on, traveler. You were saying?” 

Emboldened by the bulge pressing hard and insistent at the front of his pants, you pushed yourself up to your knees, scooching forward until your thighs bracketed his own, gifting him with the sight of the spread of you. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he glanced down. No longer in a rush, you trailed your hands across his chest. Explored the soft planes of his abdomen, running along curves of smooth, defined muscle. Rising to thumb over his nipples, testing him, studying his reactions. Seeing what he liked. 

“I uh–” you cleared your throat “-was running from the Millelith.”

“Interesting but I already know that. Tell me what you were feeling,” he said, tossing your shirt carelessly over the side of the bed, moving on to your bra. “Hmm, better yet, tell me how relieved you were to see me.”

“Ah ok. So you need your ego stroked.”

“For starters.” His lips curled suggestively. Previously dragging light patterns across his skin, your nails clawed in hard and you were rewarded with the slight drop of his jaw and the low rumble of an appreciative groan.

Being completely exposed before Childe was nothing like you’d imagined. There was no self-consciousness, no reservations at all as his hands explored and cupped. Because you already knew each other, you realized, had already done this intimate dance; each dip, each curve memorized and stored from all those battles at the Golden House. The only thing left was to see. 

“I think I was too full of adrenaline to be nervous,” you began. “But I guess I was backed into a bit of a corner when you found me.” You leaned forward with a small smile, palm cupping between his legs in the same tormenting fashion his had, sliding along the outline of his cock. Childe’s hips jerked. A soft moan tickled the hairs at the crown of your head, his chin coming to rest briefly atop as if looking at the motion of your fingers would be far too much. 

“I was relieved to see you, sure,” you continued, thumb teasing at the ridge. “Could’ve handled it on my own, though.”

You felt his throat rumble out a warm laugh as you worked his pants open. “You could have, I’m sure.”

“I think I liked you right away,” you continued. “Before anything I admired your prowess. But I suppose I found you… cute,” you said, recycling the same word he’d used to describe you. You pulled him out before he could say anything cheeky in response. Wrapped him with your warm palm and gave an experimental stroke, grinning when he went completely stiff, a hushed curse following.

“Did you ever think about me like this?” The words spilled from Childe’s lips and he pulled back to look down at you, breathless, jaw working as he relished your slow strokes for a moment. “Back before you knew who I really was?”

“Yeah,” you answered honestly. You waited for the pang of resentment that used to come at the thought of his previous betrayal. But there was nothing, the idea so far removed from who the both of you were now that there was no harm in expounding. “Even after I knew, too. I… touched myself a lot. The thoughts were just angrier.”

“Yeah. Yeah I bet.”

Some strangled noise that seemed like it had been stuck at the back of his throat was released when your thumb swiped over his leaking tip. Cupping your face with a sudden urgency, he yanked you into a fierce kiss. But he pulled back as soon as it started, smile lazy and pleased at your dazed expression.

“My turn, yeah?” Childe’s head cocked. “I saw you first at the gates of Liyue when you arrived. I had to see the golden hero of Mondstadt with my own eyes, after all. And what a sight you were,” he purred. The fast, downward trajectory of his hand had you pulling in a breath and holding it in anticipation. “So pretty in that little dress. I thought about taking you for all you were worth right then and there. I think you would’ve come around to it. Am I right, traveler? If I’d have approached you then, would you have let me do this to you?”

You expected him to tease, hold out on you, so when his middle finger slid directly through your folds to dip lightly into the mess of your center, you nearly combusted, letting out a hoarse cry. Tried to pull away but his other hand curved the back of your neck, tugging you into his shoulder.

Childe turned to lay a gentle kiss on your cheek, fluttering his finger at your entrance just lightly enough to make a vulgar, wet noise. 

“Well? Would you have?” 

You shuddered. Nodded mindlessly and he purred in satisfaction at the easy give of two fingers, sliding into your cunt to the knuckle, hooking and hitting a spot inside you that had starlight bursting behind your eyelids. But still you fought through, pumping him, the movements jerky and pathetic now.

“But it was the day we really met, traveler. That day at the Golden House when I saw you for what you really were. That wild look in your eyes when you wanted to kill me so badly. I’ll never forget it. That’s when I knew for certain that no matter the outcome, I had to have you.”

“Childe–” you whined, hardly remembering to stroke him still.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, “just hold onto me.”

And so you did, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting him pump his fingers into you, slow and torturous until you burned white hot and senseless. Hardly aware even of your back delicately pressing into the mattress again, the new position allowing him more depth, each curl accompanied by a tiny whimper. You felt the quiet flutter of climax already brushing like a flurry of feathers across your skin. It was like nothing you’d experienced, being tucked into Childe’s neck like this, one of his hands still caressing your hair so sweetly while the other stretched you open.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” his faraway voice murmured, coaxing you to relax beneath him but you couldn’t while his lips brushed your cheek. While his fingers pumped, while the smell of him filled your senses.

You loved him. You loved him.

Everything swelled at once; emotion and that twisting pleasure in your belly rising sharply until your body went rigid, nails digging helplessly into his shoulders as you grasped for a tether to reality. A torn keen loosened from the depths of your chest as he worked you through with murmured, rhythmic praises. You spasmed against him, clinging like the illusion of him could disappear at any moment, leaving you nothing but a shuddering mess. You fell back onto the bed panting.

A press against the corner of your mouth and your eyes fluttered open. The sensitive slide of his fingers out of your pussy had your lips parting just enough that he could slide his tongue softly through. You lay there motionless for a time, blinking the pleasure from your eyes, Childe just massaging his tongue against yours, eyes closed, dipping in and out of you slowly.

His cock laid heavy and hot on your hip, leaking hot precum across your skin. Groaning, you finally reciprocated his kiss, your fervor met with a long purr of contentment from above. Your nails dug grooves into his bare hips, dragging him against you, imploring him without words.

Childe inhaled a sharp breath and pulled back to look at your face, eyes glazed slightly.

“You alright?” was all he said, voice in such shreds it had you laughing, cupping his face in your hands.

“Yeah, you idiot.”

The side of his nose brushed yours, a wry grin curling his lips. “Kind of impolite for a girl who was just cumming all over my fingers.” He pressed a single, firm kiss against your mouth before reaching between you to position his cock, wetting it with a drag through your slit before pressing in just slightly.

Childe’s blue eyes flickered between yours.

“I love you, too, by the way.”

Your eyes widened but any further reaction on your part was taken up by the delicious, burning stretch as he slowly pushed into you with a drawn out groan, not stopping until he’d bottomed out inside you, the only sound punctuating the room for several seconds the sound of steadying breaths.

You could already feel yourself making room for him, fitting yourself around him. 

“Keep moving or I’ll die.”

His laugh was strained and he seemed oddly hesitant still, like he wasn’t quite ready to stop looking at you. You smiled softly and he let out a content sigh, his head falling to your shoulder. His cock inched out of you, pushing back in at the same dragging pace. And he began to fuck you deep, rocking into you slow.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured into your ear.

He loved you. Childe loved you.

Everything was perfect. He was perfect. The way he sucked gentle bruises into your skin. The way his hips rolled so steadily and how he was ruining you slow, hitting all the right spots inside you that had you gasping for breath, softly whimpering with each thrust. 

You were warriors, yes. It was your baser instincts. But the pace that he set made clear that the quick step, fierce clashing of swords was momentarily being tossed aside in favor of slow hands. You panted as you took him again and again, your sweat mixing, brushing that damp lock of ginger hair to the side so you could fall into the blue of his eyes.

“I have another confession,” Childe murmured against your neck. “And I feel terrible about this one. So don’t bark at me.”

“Is now really the time for confession?”

Childe turned you over, his hands falling immediately to steady your hips, guide them into the same rolling tempo on top of him.

“Good as any, I think.”

He pinched the skin of your thigh when you didn’t respond, too blissed out and focused on the second rising tide swirling low in your belly.

“F-fine.”

“I told them myself that we were dating.”

“Wh-hat?” you choked out as his thumb found your clit, rolling in tight circles. He groaned at your hard clench around him. Archons, you were right on the precipice.

“I told my family in my letters,” he panted. “Told everyone I could that we were together a long time ago, traveler. That I’d found myself a pretty little adventurer in Liyue that I intended to make mine. Don’t you think that was presumptuous of me?”

“Ch-Childe–”

You didn’t know how to process the information, let alone respond. Your head spun, everything tightening inside, but terribly slow. With a plea on your lips, your hands flew up to play with your nipples, desperate for something to send you over that edge. You heard Childe curse under his breath quietly, hands digging into the flesh of your hip bones as he seemed to steady himself.

“Childe.”

“So really, I knew before you did,” he said, sounding like a fraying rope. “The whole world knew you were mine before you did. But I knew you’d come around. Knew it as surely as I know the Sneznhayan sky. Knew it as surely as I know you.”

Childe drew one arm around your back, the other up your spine until his hand found the back of your neck, pulling you forward to press his mouth to yours before his lips slid forward and found your ear.

“And I do know you.” 

Suddenly, you were locked against him, his hips snapping into yours with a fervor. You gasped because there it was, that pounding friction that had you nearly sobbing into his neck, clawing at the bed as you were sped toward that edge and soared right over it.

The arms holding you so tightly left no space to roll and flex your body naturally through your release. It was a debilitating ecstasy, destructive and wet, all centered at one nexus point between your legs, so powerful it had you drenching his cock as he stuffed you again and again. Before you’d even remembered to breathe, Childe was swallowing your anguished whine, shifting your body upward so he could chase his own release.

“Say it again,” he gasped against your lips. “Please.”

Somehow, you knew. “Love you,” you breathed, completely dazed.

“Again, again, again.” He pounded into you desperately and you felt the telltale tightening of his abdomen, the beginning stutter of his hips.

You grabbed his face and poured every ounce of yourself into it. “I love you, Childe.”

A choked laugh turned into a groan as he slammed himself deep, emptying inside your still convulsing cunt, showering you with so many breathless praises that they all slur together like a desperate prayer. His face tipped back so beautifully, twisting in ecstasy before he went boneless, the only sound in the room your labored breathing.

You waited until your heartbeat slowed to shift atop him, rolling until you were tucked into his side instead. Your eyelids felt like a weighted blanket but you were too lost in thought to drift off now, fingers tracing lazy patterns into his skin.

Minutes and minutes passed. You fiddled with the flower in your hair.

“So everyone knew we were together except me?” you asked, more sheepish than intended, cheek moving against the hard planes of his bare abdomen so you could peer up at him. Childe burst into laughter and you found yourself pressing closer to absorb the sound.

“You really are blind. Every opportunity I had to show you my true feelings, I took. Even that floating bag of flour had her suspicions.” You smacked his chest hard but he continued with a chuckle. “Always looking over your shoulder like she could kill me on the spot. If she could see us now.”

With practiced quickness, you straddled his hips, palms propping on either side of his head. “That’s enough.”

Naturally, his fingers found your sides, dragging up and down, eyes full of a shining devotion. 

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to get your cock touched again.”

Childe smiled dangerously. “Dirty words from such a pretty mouth. Careful, or we’ll end up making a battlefield of Sneznhaya yet.”

You grinned down at him for a long, giddy moment. “I could be tempted.”

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

A Birthday Letter From Lilia

Lil Lilia birthday letter I wrote about two years ago. Because I have a borderline unhealthy obsession with the man (haha), I've decided to expose y'all to him again! Happy Birthday to all the ones I've missed in my absence.

Note: Pronouns of the reader/recipient are not specified. Reader/recipient implied to be Yuu/Ramshackle Prefect

My dear one, 

Happy Birthday! Another year has gone by for you, and yet another awaits. I am sure you are in for the most fond of memories. For someone with such a short lifespan, I can understand why such a day is important. Ah, the throes of youth - surely you will live this day to the fullest. What might you have planned, I wonder? I certainly hope you will include me in the festivities! 

I am sure you have already opened the gift I sent with this little missive. Isn’t it the most adorable little thing? I saw it whilst out in town with the boys and knew you simply must have it! I could not help but get one myself - we’ll match! Perhaps you and I might see about getting our little bears some outfits? It is unbecoming for someone my age, but what is one without indulgences? I hope you will consider the offer. 

As you can see, the stuffed bear is not the only thing I have procured for you. Now, do be careful with that one. The book is in prime condition but, as you might be able to tell, it is quite the antique. I thought you might find some use for it, as you are in charge of both yourself and Grim. Little ones need good nutritious meals to grow strong and healthy, and that cookbook lists many such dishes. Certainly you have cooked before? If not, look no further! 

I will happily take you under my wing; I’ll make a chef out of you yet! Why, I have already taken the liberty of cooking a meal detailed within the very cookbook you now hold in your hands. You will find it on page twenty-three - the one with a picture of a chocolate cake. Now now, don’t fret. It gives me great joy to provide you with such a treat, even though it could rot your teeth. Quite the bad influence, aren’t I? Well, I’ll certainly make up for that once we’re busy in the kitchen. 

I must admit I have never followed most of those recipes. Yes, I do take into account the ingredients, but I have always kept the youngsters’ best interests in mind. In my opinion, you can never have enough fiber, protein, and other such things that make you grow big and strong. Why, just look at Silver! If I had followed all those recipes to the very detail, he would have never grown so tall! I only wish he would let me spoil him like I used to. Ah, but that is what I have you and the other youths for! 

Rejoice, dear one! We will have such fun cooking together - I just know it! Let me know the moment you would like to begin. Oh, but don’t worry about that today. After all, it is a day to celebrate! There is no need to worry about calories or nutrition. Stuff your face full of goodies, take in all your gifts, and bask in the endless attention; you certainly deserve it! 

I hope to see you soon, dear one. I can hardly wait to see the look on your face when you take a bite out of the cake I’ve prepared for you! 

- Lilia Vanrouge

[epic-sorcerer]

warning: childhood suicide

a 10 year old boy named Sammy teusch was on the news because he committed suicide. Because of bullying. As someone who attempted suicide just 2 days before my 7th birthday, this story hit really, really hard. RIP sammy. I heard on the news that he spent his birthday money on gifts for his parents and his vacation time in Florida picking up trash.

I see that ther were people in the comments shocked that a 10 year old would know about suicide, one even claimed it was “fishy.” I can understand where this point of view can come from if you had a comparably easier childhood.

the rest of this post is to provide context as to what it feels to be a young, bullied kid with suicidal ideation.

the thing is, you don’t need to know about suicide to want it so desperately. I didn’t know about suicide when I was that age. But I DID know people could die. I did know that once a body is dead, there is no pain. And there are no ears to listen to horrible words anymore. Or eyes to see everyone else having fun and being friends with each other.

point is, people can suffer at all ages. So can they be desperate to end it quickly. Some of you reading this may remember the comic I made about my birthday, detailing how I commited suicide due to my greif of my grandmother dying. That is true, but god there was so much more going on that couldn’t fit on 4 panels.

at 3 my parents noticed I had something wrong with me that caused a lot of pain, but I would not be daignosed with AMPS(also known as the suicide disease, so go figure) until I was 7.5 years old. Even then, I wouldn’t really make any headway until extremely recently. I also had undiagnosed adhd, anxiety, seasonal affective disorder(depression), dyslexia and dyscalculia.

I was in constant torture in my mind and body. I was being emotionally abused at home(emotional distress and trauma feeds into amps so it was also physical in a way), had an ableist and just horrible first grade teacher, was isolated from most of my peers if not bullied, had no idea why my head was so stupid and broken, and yeah. My grandmother was dead. Still dead.

of course I wanted to die. Who wouldn’t? I had already been showing self harming behaviors by 5 or 6, so it wasn’t a thought that was out of left feild.

I have memories of my mom driving me to school in the mornings. I would go on monologues about how much I wished to die. Over and over and over. I talked about it like it was a summer vacation, or I guess, a perminant summer vacation. Because that is what it was to me. I belived I had suffered enough in my life and that I was ready to just do away with it. No more suffering. No more suffering.

On November 28th, my grandmother’s death date, I attempted suicide. I wrote a note on my white bored in my room that I was running away. But to please not throw away my stuff just yet incase I come back. Then I left my home. Thankfully my mom got to me quickly and took me home.

I am not so sure hwo to end this, I was not magically cured that day. I even graduated to cutting my feet with sharp objects soon after. But yeah, that’s my story. Questions are extremly welcome, creating awareness about this is important to me so don’t be shy. Thanks for reading

And oh yeah, ok to reblog. Actually encouraged for awareness tbh

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

Happy Zhongli Day!!!

1. What left the deepest impression on you when you first met him? Was it how he looks, talks, or something else?

Definitely his voice. Hoyo really knew what they were doing hiring Keith Silverstein to voice him. I listened to all the other languages and although I love all their interpretations of Zhongli, they don't hit quite the way EN does when you first hear him. It was definitely a whoa moment. He definitely has that "old wise man" voice.

2. What do you like most about Zhongli as a character?

He's such a comfort character and everything about him feels safe and grounded, from his skillset, his lore, to the very nuanced things like his voice lines. I really can't make up my mind on him. This character has me constantly bouncing back and forth between unapologetic horniness and pure respectful admiration.

3. What is your favorite Zhongli voice line, and why do you like it?

Every journey has it's final day, don't rush. It's such a vibe. He has so many good lines, but this one I feel like I can keep in the back of my mind as a personal mantra.

4. Does Zhongli resonate with something in real life for you? Has he managed to influence your life in some way?

Zhongli has kind of transcended from just a videogame character into some sort of imaginary role model for me. Ever since I found out that one Olympic swimmer was also a Zhongli enjoyer, I felt so validated. He embodies so many values and virtues I hold dear. I started playing genshin in a low point in my life and it's amazing how a fictional character can encourage you so much. His story and all of his voice lines are so well-written and filled with little nuggets of wisdom that even if taken out of the context of the game, can be very inspirational.

5. What part of Zhongli's design do you love the most? Do you have a favorite outfit?

His cake Just kidding! I love his normal outfit most. No matter if he is going out on a walk or attending a formal dinner, he's got a whole suit ensemble on. I'm not a tedious person irl, but I've always admired people that put a lot of effort into their appearance and presentation. If I have to pick a part, I'd pick his tassel earring. It looks like there should be a story behind it.

6. Zhongli has a lot of lore. What’s your favorite story/feat that he's ever done?

I love the Archaic Petra flower lore. It shows a petty side of his character that I just can't help but adore. Zhongli can be a troll and still come out wholesome.

A flower bloomed in a cliff's impregnable cleft. It is an exquisite life shaped by the essence of Geo. There is a folk saying that goes thus: In times of yore, someone told the��Lord of Geo that there was no life to be found in barren stone. Thus did the Lord of Geo command flowers of purest gold to burst forth from the face of an uneven rock. Perhaps the Geo Archon did once work such a great wonder. Or perhaps this is but one of the many tales that shroud this ancient world. But the prosperous harbor that grew out of the lifeless mountains, And that braves the raging waters of the Sea of Clouds— Perhaps that was the brilliant flower, after all.

7. If you could give Zhongli a birthday present, what would it be?

I'd give him a safety charm. lol It's something I actually wrote into one of my fics. Obviously in the game he keeps me from literally dying with his shield. I also bought myself a little Zhongli safety charm too. Safety charms are gifts you give to loved ones that convey your good wishes for them.

8. If Zhongli visited you for a day, where would you take him?

I'd take him sightseeing and show him all the places in my city that tourists go visit. Our city has a lot of those, both natural and urban tourist attractions. My wallet would probably hurt, because knowing Zhongli, he would be eyeing all the souvenirs.

9. If you could talk to Zhongli, what’s one thing you’d want to ask him?

Since Hoyo loves breadcrumbing us, we actually know very little about this 6000 yr old god. There's so many theories about him and none of them are confirmed. Is he just a lump of gold? Even though dragon Zhongli is fan-canon, we already know that the exuvia is just one of his many vessels. Zhongli, what the hell are you and where do you come from????

10. Which of Zhongli’s attacks do you like using the most? How do you prefer to use him in a team? What build do you have him on?

I love using his normal attacks. Hoyo is evil for giving him such sick moves and then making him a support. I bet the person who designed that spear kick feels cheated. I do too!!! ---

Feel free to copy this questionaire from the Zhongli community posts! It was the result of a poll to see what we should do for his birthday~

https://www.tumblr.com/communities/zhonglis-harem

[anexistingexistence]

Time to ruin someone's day, here we go!

(Aka: Me going on a rant about fluffy DarlinxQuinn.)

Warnings (?): Me swearing a lot because I wrote this the moment the thoughts came into my head without a filter, domestic fluffy things, and Quinn, who deserves to be his own warning.

Darlin and Quinn were so sweet together and you can not possibly fathom how endearing they were with one another.

For example - hear me tf out - they got matching rings to wear for their first anniversary-type thing. And I know now you might say:

"Uhh Existence, they weren't even together for a whole year. Did you even read the timeline?"

To which all I have to say is, bitch I studied the timeline, you amateur, now keep listening to what I have to say. Quinn is the type of person that celebrates this kind of shit monthly - He's the kind of person to celebrate "half-birthdays" or whatever they're called. So yea, he got himself and Darlin matching rings to put on necklaces as a first monthly anniversary gift.

Another grand example would be how these two shared each other's clothes all the time. Nobody knew which hoodie or t-shirt was whose anymore after a few months and so they'd just start buying clothes together and for each other instead of individually for themselves because they just knew they'd end up sharing the clothes anyway. And Darlin accidentally kept some of Quinn's clothes even after they broke things off.

Also, Darlin did Quinn's makeup for him. These two would be sitting pretty on the bathroom floor of Quinn's dingy little apartment, Darlin in Quinn's lap, and they'd be doing his eyeliner and applying glitter to his eyeshadow and putting on his highlighter. Once they were done, Quinn would give them the softest kiss and share his lipstick or chapstick with them before saying something like "To treat/cover up that scar I left" with the sweetest apologetic look he could muster.

Also, Quinn would always give Darlin massages and he was weirdly good at it. Most of the time these two weren't intimate in those innocent and lovely little ways, but when they were, it usually was Quinn massaging them.

And he wasn't just good with his hands when it came to massaging because this man has such steady hands that it became a regular thing for him to paint Darlin's nails, only for them to miserably fail at doing his in return. They were always super embarrassed and apologetic about it when they got the nail polish all over his fingers but to Quinn it was just the cutest thing to see them scramble to clean him up and damn near hear the blood rush to their face in embarrassment.

Another thing would be that Darlin tends to have a very hard time falling asleep, so they'd ask Quinn to trance them to sleep sometimes and he'd hum a little tune while he held them in his arms and they drifted off in his trance. When they were fully asleep he'd give them a little forehead kiss and just cuddle them closer while watching them sleep very non-creepily (definitely not creepy, why would you even suggest that?).

This one's not as wholesome, but Quinn thought it was cute and quirky to wear Darlin's blood like it was lipstick which they found disgusting, but they got desensitized to it to the point they played up their annoyance whenever they saw him do it. They'd say something like "You know it looks bad when it gets this dry, right?" before getting a wet cloth or just straight up licking it from his lips. The latter of those only encouraged Quinn to keep doing this because of course it did.

And those were my wonderful thoughts and ideas for the day, hope you enjoyed (or were miserable throughout) reading this stuff.

Also, how are we liking the dividers? I made them myself and I think they turned out pretty cute.

[blackbird-brewster]

Ao3 wrapped (randomized)

2,6,14,20,24,29

[Send Asks for my AO3 Wrapped]

2. How many works did you publish this year?

Only 19 new works this year, but somehow still managed to write 545,000 words!?

10. What work was quickest to write? (Re-roll for #6, because I'd already answered it)

Technically, that was probably [Halloween Interlude] because I wrote it in about an hour. But if I'm looking at fics in terms of word count/time to complete, it'd be 'i can't be wrong (to be craving you)' which is 100k+ long, and I wrote it all in about six weeks time.

14. What's your shortest work this year?

Someone New (1053 words)

16. What's your most common "additional tags" tag? (Re-roll for 29, because I already answered it)

My most used additional tag this year was *drum roll please* "Canon Queer Character of Color"!!!! FUCK YEAH, TARA LEWIS IS CANONICALLY PANSEXUAL!!!!!!

20. Which work of yours have you read the most?

I read Between You & Me pretty much once a month at this point. It's my comfort fic. I am so happy with the wedding follow up I wrote for it (Quiet Love), because I adore Tara and JJ together. They're so perfect.

24. Did you write any gifts this year?

Yep! I wrote two gifts and they both happened to be for @unitchiefs-blackbirdphoenix! One for her birthday and one for the @cmgiftexchange <3

[nancypullen]

I Lost My Mind

Sorry that I dropped off the face of the Earth for a bit. I have been in a holiday frenzy. I mentioned that I'll be flying down to visit my mom in Florida for a few days. What I did not consider is that taking a chunk out of the middle of December would send me into hyper-holiday prep. I felt like I needed to have EVERYTHING done before departing on the 12th. Ev-er-y-thing. So I put my head down and trimmed the tree, decorated the house, shopped, wrapped, wrote and addressed cards, wrapped some more, baked and baked, and finally checked the last task (packing and mailing a box) off my list. When I return home on the 17th my biggest worry will be preparing for the Christmas meal. I'll have a handful of days to panic. We may have tacos for Christmas dinner if I drop the ball.

The mister had mentioned making the hour long drive up to Christiana Mall in Delaware earlier this week. I told him that if I could get everything done on my list, I could go on Thursday. I worked like a mad woman so I could go to that damn mall. I used to take malls for granted, then I moved to Dogpatch. So I met my self-imposed deadline (the last cookie was packaged at 7pm on Wednesday night) and went to bed with a heating pad and visions of shopping dancing in my head. I was not disappointed. It turned into the best day! The most wonderful part? It snowed on us! All the way to Newark we were treated to this:

I can't even tell you how happy it made me. After our snowy trip we walked into the mall and right into a giant Barnes and Noble. Man, have I missed browsing in a brick and mortar bookstore. I made a wish list a mile long. *sigh*

Mickey and I split up and I visited Lush and bought a couple of sparkly bath bombs for my favorite 5 year old, walked a couple of stores down and picked up a little something for my sister's upcoming birthday, browsed in Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma (swoon!), and put some mileage on my shoes poking around in numerous other shops. It was such fun, I felt like an Amish girl on rumspringa. We met for a quick lunch and then headed off to the local Trader Joe's for a few things. We didn't have snow on the way home, but at least the car smelled good from that sack of bath bombs. Tomorrow I'm volunteering at the Friends of the Library booth at Winterfest. I think I'm running the Pin the Nose on the Snowman game. I doubt it will compete with all of the bouncy houses and big stuff, but hopefully some little bookworms will find us. After the festival I'll once again become a crazy lady, cleaning this house top to bottom and getting packed for the trip. I want to come home on the night of the 17th to a house that doesn't need a thing, because we'll be hurtling right into Christmas. Note to self: never again travel in December. I know I'll have a ball in Florida. I wanted to see my mom before I start the library job and lose the freedom to travel whenever I want (I've forgotten what it's like to ask for time off!). My sister is going to join us and we'll be able to celebrate her birthday on the 15th. It'll be good for all of us, some girl time. And that, my friends, explains my absence. I'm a one-woman holiday crew. The house is pretty, the tree is sparkling, gifts are purchased, wrapped, and tagged, cookies are baked, cards are mailed, and this elf is done. Well, I say one-woman, but I am never alone. Someone is always there, watching.

See her in there, just behind the white and gold bow? I can't keep her out of there. At least she doesn't climb it. I'll try to write a bit more tomorrow, I think I'll actually have a little time. I may tromp around in the woods and look for some greenery to cut. I want to make a festive swag to hang over those ugly blinds.

Hmmm. Maybe not. Looks a little too busy. Maybe some light garland. Whatever, it's not like we're on the Christmas home tour. Until tomorrow (I hope), I hope that you're enjoying every bright and shiny bit of this season. Turn on some holiday tunes and boogie your way through your chores. That's what keeps me going.

Stay safe, stay well, stay jolly! XOXO, Nancy

[wandering-night19]

20 Questions fo Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag and allowing me to procrastinate @jesuisici33 and @welcometololaland

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

90,518 which seems insane to me. I'll definitely be at over 100k by the time The Weight of Grief is finished.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

911 Lone Star now, but have written for MCU, Teen Wolf, Hawaii 5-0, CSI, and Harry Potter.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

It's all my old fics because they've been around so long! But Silence and Gloom is inching it's way into top 5 territory soon.

Words and Sounds (we're falling together) my very first Teen Wolf fic

For the Record my second Teen Wolf fic

Mea Aloha my very first Hawaii 5-0 fic that was a birthday gift for someone

Meet You on the Other Side another Hawaii 5-0 fic that was won in an auction and I was given a prompt to fulfill.

This Means Something another Hawaii 5-0 fic

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always do now. I want everyone to know how much I appreciate every comment. I used to not because someone had made a post once that responding was just a way to fake out readers that you had more comments on your fic than you really did. But I got over that haha.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don't think I have one? I like happy endings. They at least all end hopeful. My angstiest fics are probably To Be Okay because it deals with the aftermath of rape. And then The Weight of Grief.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Green Eyes, Blue Skies because of the reunion scene.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven't on AO3, but at the beginning of the summer I was dealing with some anon hate, but I just delete and block.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, a little. I don't feel like I'm very good at it and I've only ever written one fic where it's the main focus.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven't, but I daydream about them a lot haha.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Way back in the fanfic.net days, but not anything recently.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes and it was so fun and I can't wait to do it again! It was with @whenshereads and it was I'll be here if you will only come back home

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

TK/Carlos and Derek/Stiles

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have so many Teen Wolf wips that will probably never be finished.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Ugh...I don't have any...maybe dialogue? That's what I get complimented on the most.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh everything. I'm terrible at expecting everyone to know what's going on inside my head, but not helping them get from point to point. Also, if I get tired of writing a scene I'll just end it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I do it, but sometimes I just write it all in English because I worry about anyone that can't read the language being taken out of the story.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Nothing anyone here would know...

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Oh this is hard. The Weight of Grief has required the most skill and is really making me work hard, so I appreciate that. But then I had so much fun writing Green Eyes, Blue Skies because it was purely a fun idea that I really wanted to read, so I wrote it myself.

Open tag to anyone that wants to participate! Tag me so I can get to know you!

[eirian-houpe]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers

I was tagged by @kelyon

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

89

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

1,451,688 (Whoa!)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Mummy Franchise UC: Undercover Sleeper Cell (TV) Stargate: Atlantis Tolkien Halt and Catch Fire Star Trek: Discovery Once Upon A Time Stargate: Universe Cobra (TV) Stranger Things Foundation (TV)

Those are the ones that are kind of... in their own right, but with a few crossovers there are other fandoms too. You can ask me about those if you like.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Library Beneath the Clock Tower

Laer o Faen

Beauty Compelled

Disparate Pathways

Bluebell

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I always do, though I am currently woefully behind. (I hope to remedy that today). I believe reader/write engagement is a gift, and one to be encouraged and celebrated.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

OMG... Angstiest.... um... I try not to end with angst. I fill the body of a fic with angst, or start a fic with lots and lots of angst, but ending...? I don't know. Maybe someone can tell me?

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think that's subjective, honestly, because I think they're all pretty happy in the end, but the degree to which the fic makes a reader feel happy is dependent on how the reader feels about the characters, I guess. As a writer, and I suppose because it's the most recently finished, I'd probably say, Disparate Pathways.

Of course, both of the above questions rely on fics being finished before judgements are made, and I have so many WIPs...

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not here, nor on AO3. Way back when... I got a little bit of hate on 'the site that shall not be named' - but it smacked of jealousy, so... I dunno. I've since deleted everything from there in any case. Moved it all elsewhere.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do, yes, but I like to think it's never gratuitous. It's all couched within the the progression of the fic, and usually heavily romance driven.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

I never used to write crossovers. For me there needs to be an internal consistency and reason for bringing characters from one work into another, and a good reason at that... and then I started Rumbelling things... and then @peacehopeandrats challenged me to write a particular fic, and this is a multi-source crossover, including: Cobra, UC: Undercover, Falcon and the Winter Soldier, Miami Medical, 24 (TV), and Airforce One is Down, in the one fic.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge, not a whole fic, no, but someone once stole a concept and /part/ of a fic I'd written (on the aforementioned never to be named site). I was told about it by someone who was a reader of my fic. The person denied their wrongdoing, but eventually - after much calling out - removed the offending fic.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not to my knowledge.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I have, yes. Forbidden Loves and Stormy Nights was written with a whole lot of people whom I consider great friends, (@peacehopeandrats, @jackabelle73, @reolf @blueboxesanddeerstalkers, and @shadowedoracle for another beautiful friend @deliriumsdelight7 on the occasion of her birthday.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

There are two, and I can't separate them. There are several similarities in the overall nature of the ships: Rumbelle, and Michael/Teyla.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Laer o Faen, and I don't necessarily doubt that I ever will, it's just there's such a lot to write... you know?

16. What are your writing strengths?

I think it's in my worldbuilding and descriptive language.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I can often be very wordy. I don't know how to write short fics.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Language and dialect both, yes. My most ambitious is the Sindarin in Laer o Faen.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

If you don't count Blake's Seven, which I wrote for when I was 11, then it would be The Mummy franchise.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

Oh, come on. That's like asking a parent to name their favorite child. I am very fond of Disparate Pathways, though, as well as Library...

Thank you, this was though provoking (and eye opening) I tag whoever is left that hasn't already done it and wants to.

[gothprentiss]

Writer asks: 5, 10, 17, 21, 27

5. Do you plan? Or do you “wing it”?

……… :(. wing it…….

or like okay. blah blah i’m disorganized i sort of write out from nodes rather than working linearly through anything, but what, for Me, works as planning is setting out a preimposed thematic structure. so for my ongoing bering & wells fic (which i have “not” planned), i have section titles based on james clerk maxwell’s a treatise on electricity and magnetism, which means that i’ve effectively got an outline in the form of the titles i’ve pulled from that.

10. How many unfinished works are in your drafts?

previously answered but i did just find my like, big document of fic ideas. so it’s like, there’s ~9 wips, most of which won’t see the light of day, plus an exorcism/demonology wip that i don’t think i’ll ever finish because writing horror hard :( and it would be super long, and then there’s a like. evil long document which i am afraid to open.

17. What piece of writing are you most proud of?

blah blah yuck annoying answer i’m not really proud of any of them— i’m distinctly UNproud of all the multichapter fics i’ve never finished, to the point that i’ve orphaned them from my old ao3 lol. HOWEVER i’m trying for self improvement SO, back in 2016 i wrote this star wars fic as a birthday gift for a friend (funny story. i’d started writing this as a gift for them, then been like YUCK this is taking so much research i don’t want to do, wrote a criminal minds fic for them, then finished this one over winter break. so they got two fics out of me and also started me on this terrible writing criminal minds fanfiction journey) and especially considering how much reading about star wars i very unhappily and half-assedly did, i think this is probably my best worldbuilding and probably my best, like, narrative idea. also the dream sequence from the opening section of this demily fic— i fondly remember multiple lines from it. too uneven to say the whole thing but i think the tone sometimes hits really where i wanted, and i was pleased when that happened.

21. Do you listen to music as you write?

answered previously but i did also remember— in addition to the coil unreleased hellraiser themes and my big fela kuti playlist, i have a playlist of almost every nick cave & warren ellis movie soundtrack, and that is BANGER writing music.

27. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

answered previously but here, too, i wax on: my fondness for like, parody and experimentation means i’d probably try out many things once, at least for a bit, and many more that i’d be willing to consider if someone was committed enough to pay me. you’d never catch me posting 2nd person pov reader x character fic uncompensated, for example. also you’ll probably never see me post a finished multi-chapter fic but that’s more of a personal failing lol

[rmd-writes]

10. How do you decide what to write?

I would especially like to know how you pick what fandom you are writing for? Does it generally just come you?

oooh good question!

I keep a list of fic ideas as they come to me and occasionally I try to plan what I will write, in what order and when, because I am very much a Type A Virgo, but I never really manage to entirely stick to the plan.

Choosing from the list (or from another idea that has distracted me from the list) depends a little on my mood and the type of fic I want to write - do I want to write something that I can finish within a week or two or am I ready to sit down and write something that could spiral into a multichap that might take me months to finish? Has someone put an idea in my head and it's not going to leave until it's written? What am I annoyed is still on the list and I just want to write it already? Is there some kind of deadline I need to meet (holidays, a birthday gift, or in the case of my recent TK can't dance fic, I wanted to write and post it before we actually saw the canon wedding)? Sometimes I will give a friend a shortlist of fics I think I'm ready to write and ask them to choose.

As for which fandom, most of the time, the ideas I get for fics are fandom/character specific. Once in a while, I'll get an idea that could work for more than one pairing, so I'll have to make a decision and usually that decision is just based on whichever concept forms the fastest. It's happened more than once, but one instance that comes to mind is Letters for my Lover which is SC fic, but when I saw the tweet that inspired it, I couldn't decide whether it would work better for David & Patrick or Alex and Henry. I went to some RWRB friends first with it, then found out that there were already two fics in progress based on that same prompt! So I wrote the David & Patrick version instead.

[unknownogre]

"So, you’re after my roommate. Sorry, my EX-assassin roommate, as you so graciously let slip. And you think tying me to a chair and pointing a gun at my head will magically make me know exactly where he is?”

I have no idea who this guy is. He hit me in the back of the head out of nowhere and then demanded I tell him where Allen, my roommate, was. I have no fucking clue where he is. We aren’t dating. We live in the same apartment because RENT IS EXPENSIVE! Gods now this moron thinks that my roommate is an ex-assassin?

…though…

I mean he has all these cool skills. We got locked out of our place the other day and he just happened to have the right tools in his pocket to pick the lock. I took him out for a drink on his birthday once and he fought three men to a stand still till I jumped in and then still did the heavy lifting in beating the hell out of them. Assholes too, the girls they were bothering bought us drinks as thanks.

Hmmm…I mean there are weirder things in the world right? So you know what? I’ll believe him. And I’d have another reason not to betray my roommate.

“YES! Tell me where he is! I can make the next two hours stretch on for an eternity. Your pain will echo off the walls…they’ll have to tear down this building after I’m finished with you.”

The dude was bigger than me…but I don’t know he wasn’t scary. I could tell he had his demons. Don’t we all right? But you don’t rat out a homie. Plain and simple. And really, he needs to work on his promises of pain speech. Kinda weak, like chat GPT wrote it or something.

“WHY ARE YOU SMIRKING!?”

He shouted and I looked him in the face. I just sighed and shifted in my chair a little bit, playing with the bindings around my wrist. No use to panic. But then you only panic when you feel in danger and I certainly don’t feel threatened right now. I never seemed to panic when someone really should.

“I just think you haven’t thought this through. So you torture me and my roommate finds out…well he is going to be pissed. I do all the cooking you see, and then he’ll kill you. Plain as that. You are dead if you torture me for his information. BUT…BUT if you kill me. Well, he called my ham balls a gift from the dark gods. So he’ll then torture you. And I bet…this is some John Wick shit and he is WAY better than you.”

He growled at me and back handed me. Ouch…that didn’t feel that great. Could have been worse though, I can taste a little blood though. I spit out some and just sigh. This was all…underwhelming.

“Since you are going to kill me can I tell you a joke?”

He looked at me side ways but then just pulled up a chair.

“Sure…tell me a joke as your lasts words.”

I had to chuckle, this joke was always really funny to me and I liked to tell it any chance I got.

“Okay So there was a guy…he was driving his car down the highway. While driving he saw another man standing on the side of the road so he pulled over to pick him up. The man was sweaty and dirty and honestly this was his life line. ‘OH MAN THANKS!’ the hitchhiker said as he got in. The man in the car just smile and winked. They drove for a little bit and the hitchhiker smiled and looked to the man driving the car. ‘I’m so glad you picked me up, most people won’t do it…they think I’m a traveling serial killer or something.’ The man driving smirked and said. ‘Oh I’m not worried about that at all…’ The hitchhiker canted his head and asked. ‘Why is that? I could be one ya know..’ and the man driving the car smiled and said. ‘What is the likely hood of two serial killers being in the same car.’”

I chuckled a bit, yeah I always loved that joke. The intruder wasn’t amused, and I could see the gears turning in his head. Good, let him think on that.

“Are you saying you’re an assassin?”

He asked after a bit and I just started to laugh in earnest. How simple could he be, really. REALLY was he that stupid. That is okay, maybe I’ll walk him through this. Ya know knowing Allen is an assassin, it makes a lot more sense now about how we vibed right off the bat. Both of us had trouble getting roommates before we found each other. No romance or nothing, we just understand each other. There was always space. Never too many probing questions, but still deep conversations.

“No…no my dear man. As the joke states, what is the likely hood of there being two serial killers in the same car?”

Come on there scooter, you can get this now can’t you. I’m almost tired of waiting. Then he looked at me with the most confused expression.

“Are…are you a serial killer?”

There was another chuckle, he hardly had time to react as my untied hands wrapped the rope he used to bind me around his throat. I was no trained assassin, but I had my skills. He fought for a while. Surprised…I just held him until he stopped moving…always takes a couple of minutes. Not like I haven’t done this before. I REALLY wanted to cut his throat open but man, you don’t spill blood where you live. Once I was sure he died I just let him fall to the floor. It was then Allen came out of the shadows.

“I knew I didn’t need to save you. You were far too calm the whole time.”

I just smirked at him, he was already moving the body and pulled out a phone to make a quick call. I couldn’t hear what he said but I knew he gave our address. Man, having professional cleaners at your beck and call must be wonderful. That is a LOT less work that I have to do.

“Well, ya know. So are you going to have to move out?”

I wasn’t happy with that idea, I really did like him as a roommate. People like him didn’t come along very often and well, searching is a pain in the ass.

“Na, I don’t think so. I’ll stay right here. By how skilled you are, how strong you are…and now I notice a few things you’re the Rapist Reaper? Or am I wrong?”

I grinned brightly and dipped my head a bit. He got me, but of course he did. NO more secrets though, which will be nice. I knew Allen was a good guy too, never had the aura that a lot of the other men do. I’ve killed my last three roommates, and I really didn’t want to have to do that to him too, not that I ever felt the need to be honest. There are few good men in this world and Allen he certainly one of them.

“You got me, I mean I don’t really like the name too much…but you don’t get to pick what the media calls you. Judging by how well you move and how long you’ve been my roommate, you’re Death’s Whisper.”

Allen bowed a bit and just sat down on the couch. I cleaned up my split lip and got both of us a beer and sat next to him.

“Okay, this is a long shot…BUT if you want to stay roommates…wanna go kill a crime lord and his lackies. I don’t really hate them or anything but this one REALLY wants me back in the game and I have NO interest in that anymore. I’m retired, I like the boring life. No wife, no kids, no one to protect or answer to. It is very nice. I want to enjoy this for a while. Want to help?”

I was already grinning and all I had to do was clink my bottle with his. He smiled at me and we waited for the cleaners to arrive. I’m going to have so much fun with this. They won’t be expecting two of us…I mean I’m not like Allen…he is a MUCH better fighter than me. Still, I can fight very well. More of a brawler though, gotta get them into the van somehow and some of those guys are WAY bigger than me, so I got good.

“Ham balls for dinner?”

Allen chuckled…oh this was going to be a wonderful friendship.

Today you just found out your roommate with strange hobbies, like knowing how to pick a lock, knows how every puzzle and cipher by heart, or how to commit tax fraud, and so many other things, wasn't a guy with ADHD, he was an ex-assassin and now you have a gun pointed at your face