#I didn’t write a rough draft for this one and it shows lmao

[trash-can-sam]

Post-duvos Grace and Qi are so funny bcuz they’re both so smart but Ik they’ll get invested in the dumbest shit to prove they’re better than the other one. I just feel like they get in the stupidest arguments they wouldn’t get in with anyone else.

Qi, who normally would not give two shits about his alma matter, would definitely pull out “Hm. It seems my university is superior in many respects including our football team” (he has no idea how good the football team is) and Grace, who also couldn’t care less, pulls out a “YEAH? WELL OUR BASKETBALL TEAM WIPED THE FLOOR WITH YOURS.” (She also has no idea how good any of the sports teams were.)

Another silly idea I have floating around in my head is Qi going to the blue moon saloon to get a tea and grace is just like “Smh ofc it’s a Friday night and you’re drinking tea” and Qi, who normally would respond with a “yes and what’s wrong with that?” Takes the bait and responds with a “and what would you rather I drink?” And they get into a drinking competition bcuz Grace is under the impression Qi can’t hold his liquor (he cannot but she barely can either.) (Qi wakes up with the stupidest hangover pissed off that he fell for her trick and Grace wakes up with a bit less of a hangover but equally as stupid and upset that she had a genuinely intellectually stimulating conversation with Qi about Gungham)

I also think it would be silly if they did a cooking competition where both of them lose because neither of them can cook a good omelette. Grace thinks hers have improved enough to at least beat Qi who doesn’t cook. They both almost burn down the kitchen.

I just think they egg eachother on in such a specific way where they just can’t resist. They bring the most spiteful parts out of eachother. They get eachother in such a personal way that they know all the buttons to push. And despite it always going badly it’s so fun for them, especially Grace.

I feel like they frequently have battles of wits that neither of them have had for a while and it’s so nice to have someone who you feel you can go back and forth with who you’re more or less equals with.

I also have the funniest idea of Trudy trying to make them get along better post-duvos by assigning Grace as Qis assistant for like a week and they both know this is an AWFUL decision. And it is bcuz they both need too much control. So naturally, they fight over every conclusion reached until a great solution to the problem arises and it’s just a moment where both of them try to disprove eachother but realize neither of them can and every statement that ends in them all agreeing causes more and more excitement until they both decide they’ve finally figured it out. it’s the most excited they’ve both felt in a while over something that really is not a big discovery and is really just them solving a minor problem.

[pagemasters]

Fantasies He…

BABY’S FIRST FIC!!!

Author’s notes: So after reading so many for years I thought maybe it’s my turn to take a crack at it. There’s I think 3 parts to this, with the first one having basically no smut and mostly platonic fluff between Az and Feyre, but part 3? Can’t say the same thing for the middle Archeron sister lmao

I swear this started out to be one part but the story told me otherwise, part 2 is fully drafted I’m just revising and editing

I’m a very visual person, so enjoy the floor plan of the nursery and a rough sketch of what I think her mural would be and the star! I am a painter if it wasn’t obvious so the whole portion on starfall stars is actually based on how Bob Ross paints his northern lights, just with modifications BUT I haven’t tried it myself for this specific purpose. Also the colour of Feyre and Rhys’s stars are the colours of the first ones that hit them during Starfall btw! I love the platonic relationships between the inner circle and we don’t get enough of it

If you enjoyed it I would love u forever if you let me know!! :)

Ps. Omg dialogue is so difficult to make realistic but also in character, none of that “hey big brother” etc. shit you see in tv shows where you’re like who tf says that to their sibling ?? Ps.ps. I haven’t taken an English writing class for 5 years so if punctuation was wrong let’s pretend it wasn’t LMAO

I CANT FIGURE OUT HOW TO DO AO3 LINK BUT IT’S ON THERE WITH THE SAME USERNAME LOL SORRY

Summary:

Azriel spends the day with Feyre, only to get caught in the rain on the way home. Good thing the townhouse is empty. Or is it…

CHAPTER ONE: DAYDREAMING

The rain finally decided to make its appearance as Azriel stepped out of the River house. Taking a deep breath, he let the soothing scent wash over him as he relaxed his wings. 

The meeting with Rhys was short, just a weekly update on the goings around the other courts and allies, nothing that required the full inner circle to make an appearance. Something he knew after centuries of this work should be a good thing, but it doesn’t stop the pang in his chest at the missed opportunity of seeing her. 

Not that he didn’t try to catch a glimpse of her. He did take a walk through the beautiful home his brother had built for his mate after seeing him, the smell of cedar and masonry long since faded from the construction days; replaced with flowers and candles and the dinner his shadows whispered Nuala and Cerridwen were working on. The scent of paint lingered though, and he discovered the reason why as he got to the residential wing. His High Lady wasn’t in her studio, but he found her nonetheless with a brush in her tattooed hand. 

“I think you missed a spot.” Az said from the doorway, trying to repress his smile at her startled reaction. Even though Feyre and Rhys opted for doorways fashioned with wings in mind, he kept his drawn in tight, not wanting to risk smearing her paint as he stepped inside. 

“Rhys won’t let me use the step ladder without him holding it. And me. And the bump.” Feyre twisted to look up from her spot on the floor and smiled in greeting before lowering the brush to pat her stomach in emphasis. She gave her mate’s antics an affectionate eye roll and shake of her head before releasing a heavy sigh, glancing back at her work. 

“If I remember correctly,” Az teased, “you are prone to falling quite spectacularly.”

She let out an indignat squawk so loud he had to bite his lips to prevent laughing, her body spinning so fast to face him fully that paint ended up splattering from her brush to the white drop cloth. 

Their flying lessons had ceased for the most part since the war, so watching her fly into a tree or eat rocks wasn’t as common an occurrence— but that’s not to say that still doesn’t happen. Knowledge he happens to be privy to not just as her flight teacher, but as the spymaster, something she’s very aware of if the narrowing of her eyes and mouth hanging open are any indication. 

It’s hard not to notice the similarities between the sisters, when even with your eyes closed the cadence of their speech was also similar. But it was never so apparent between youngest and oldest Archeron as when Feyre’s eyes pinned him in place, the expression of mock outrage was so much like Nesta’s it was almost comical. 

“Ruuuude,” she said, drawing the word out in a whine with pouted lips, no doubt remembering the amount of face plants he’d witnessed when she first began to fly. “I see how you treat your High Lady, Shadowsinger. Just wait, it’s not too late for me to paint a little something in your bedroom.”

“And here I thought pouting and grumbling was beneath royalty, at least you can say you’re a tree hugger.”

She gave him a gesture that was certainly beneath royalty, and he didn’t hold back his chuckle this time. 

“What gave you that idea, have you even met Rhys?” 

“Oh trust me, you should’ve seen him when we were kids.” He said, grabbing her hands to help her stand. “He discovered in a book that while bat wings look identical to ours, the anatomy of their wing is labeled similar to that of the hand. So for them, their talons are their thumbs. After that, he took it upon himself to hang upside down in silent protest whenever he was mad, but didn’t want his mother to wash his mouth out with soap for swearing.”

“He did not.”

“Mhmm, until his faced turned purple.”

“And where were you and Cass for all this?” Feyre said through her giggling, a wide grin of unrestrained joy plastered on her face. 

“He couldn’t have done it alone, a thumbs down by yourself would look stupid.”

“Ah yes, because the three of you hanging upside down like overgrown bats isn’t ridiculous.” She cackled, “How long until he gave it up?”

“A few weeks. After Cassian passed out in the middle of camp and we all got broken capillaries on our faces. Still, a better alternative than the awful tasting soap in Illyria.” 

“What, as opposed to other tasting soap?” He just shrugged, smiling. 

Rhys’s mom’s reaction to warriors dragging them across the rocky ground home was as lively in his memory as she was when she berated them when her son fessed up. She was less thrilled to hear the real reason than Devlon was having passed out children strewn about the place, but she never did call them out on the lie they fed to Devlon about it being a dare when he came banging on their door. That night though when they were more lucid, she brought them on foot to one of the mountains surrounding their outpost and stood them at the opening of a cave. He still remembers the eyes he felt on them, the warning bells ringing from his shadows as she gestures her hands out and said, “If you want to act like bats, you can join them; or you can toughen up, learn how and when to pick battles and what hills are worth to dying on. Because there will be more people who will piss you off, but this is not an option when you’re leading armies. So,” her hazel eyes meeting each of theirs, “What will it be? Do you want to stay here or take the soap and fly right on home.” Needless to say they bolted home with the taste of pine tar suds coating their mouths like a film no amount of water could rid them of the taste. He could still feel the eyes of whatever was in that cave the entire way home, but thank the cauldron he could fly at that point. His heart ached at the memory of the female, the one he knew picked a low cave for him to make her point, just in case. The one his shadows caught a few times after that upside down on the couch after a rough day when she thought she was alone. 

As Feyre’s amusement continued with eyes glazed over—no doubt having a silent conversation with Rhys—Az cleared his throat, his shadows pulling back as he gestured to their surroundings and asked, “So how’s the nursery coming along?” 

“It’s going great,” she replied after a moment, her laughter subsiding as she surveyed the mural.  “I know it’s not geographically correct, and that Starfall and the time when our courts insignia’s stars show don’t overlap, but I couldn’t not include them. I want  him and any possible future child to see the night court as I did when I first fell in love with it and their dad.” 

Indeed, while he knew Rhys was already in love with her, he got to watch Feyre love him back as much as he deserved in real time the longer she was here. And the way she captured the land they all loved so much here was… breathtaking. 

On the wall that held the doorway he just stepped through lay the mountain with the moonstone palace atop it. The first place she saw here. They both knew where the doors to Hewn city rest below, but it was covered by the landscape. As if there were no room for nightmares in this room, even if it was a court this babe may one day rule. 

“I have no idea how you made that mountain so realistic,” he said to her in awe, pointing to the painting adjacent to the wall they just looked at. 

“The crib is going to go right below it when the rooms done. I want it to watch over him.” She replied almost reverently as she looked up. 

The mountain was the tallest of the three she painted, and it looked just as it had on his trek up there with his brothers during the rite. Physically it was practically stone for stone, those three stars lines up overhead perfectly, but the energy differed. Instead of the cold and foreboding thing he remembered on the way up, it seemed almost… euphoric? As if the wild joy and love Rhysand, Cassian and he felt as they made their way to the top and won seeped its way onto the painting. Like the unyielding strength from that mountain and what it brought out of them would guide and protect him, just like it did for the three winged dots surrounding the monolith at the tip. How that was even possible was beyond him. 

He could barely tear his gaze away, but snickered as he saw the tiny but recognizable building at the base of it to the right. “The cabin, huh?”

“Of course, gotta prep him for one day kicking all of your asses during your snowball fight.” She added, blushing. “I put few snowballs flying just for good luck.”

Though he knew the other reason the cabin was significant to Feyre and Rhys, the thought of his future nephew joining their game warmed him. But It did make trying not to focus on other non-winged and winged babies that could one day join in the snowball fight impossible. Children have always been an abstract idea, a figment he knew existed but besides Rhys’s sister, he wasn’t around. And after what happened to her… He thought for a long time he would never have one of his own, but that sentiment start to change in recent years. He could avoid it most days though, but being surrounded by the baby stuff made the hypothetical harder to ignore. The thoughts on if he’d have his own little ones propped on his hip and curled into his chest with their chubby cheeks and inquisitive eyes. If they would have his hazel or her golden brown ones, or something different if they adopted. Would their little hands or clothes or hair get caught in the scales of his armour just like hers did when he took her on her first flight to the town house from the House of Wind, when he held her for the first time. Would Elain… Az paused, stopping that train of thought before it just twisted the knife even further, seeing more things he can’t have. 

His shadows began to circle him, and if Feyre noticed she politely didn’t comment on it before pointing out what she was working on when he interrupted her. 

To the right of the cabin and right were she was sat Velaris, and it really did look like a city of starlight with how she painted the glowing nightscape. He could make out the four markets that were the heart of the city, with extra emphasis on where the town house sat along with the new residence they were currently in. Bisecting through it all, the Sidra River looked so realistic he could probably skip a rock across its surface. It flowed like a living thing, reflecting the lights from the buildings on its edge and even the stars above. Two of which weren’t normal stars. 

Above the city proper and even the flat topped mountain that held the House of Wind was the beginnings of starfall. 

“How-“Azriel could barely get out, “how is this even possible?”

“Perks of now being immortal; plenty of time to practice. And having a husband with wings who takes you to get aerial views.” She simply said gesturing to their city, as if she didn’t create magic with swipes of colours. 

“The green one is mine, and the light blue one is Rhys’s. I’m planning to get everyone to add their own star to the wall.” Now looking him, she smirked. “Which means you came at a perfect time, Shadowsinger. Your turn.”

He gave her an unbelieving expression, shadows instantly vanishing. “You can’t be serious.”

Her eyes twinkled with mischief, “if I trust Cassian with a paintbrush, you’ll be fine. He’s coming by in a few days when he gets a free moment, Nesta and her two friends are keeping him busy with training.” Nesta is keeping him busy with more than just that, it’s a wonder he even has energy to train them. 

But looking at Rhysand’s mate, Azriel saw her glow in a way different from her powers. Feyre radiated joy as her hand cradled her stomach despite barely showing, not caring about paint getting on her already splattered clothes. For his brother, for the friend beside him and his nephew in her womb, he removed his jacket and let out a resounding sigh in defeat. “What do you need me to do?” 

So Feyre excitedly brought him over to her pile of paint tubes on the drop cloth. She grabbed the white and as he selected the colour phthalo blue she went off to prep the clean, dry brushes and a fresh palette for him. 

“So pick the area of the sky you want your star to be, I’d like to keep the inner circle’s additions mostly above Velaris, but I’ll add tiny ones fading out once everyone is done. Amren and Mor are away, Cass is busy and who knows if or when Nesta would want to contribute. That means besides Rhys and I, you have the pick of the litter.”

“What about Elain?” He asked, trying to keep his voice and face as neutral as possible when she handed him a 3 inch brush already dipped in his blue. 

“I’ll drag her in here after dinner when she gets in from the garden. The colour of the sky is already dry which is the important part, so there’s no time constraint on when everyone adds theirs besides my due date.” She gave him a knowing smile which he dutifully ignored, along with the disappointment in his chest as she confirmed Elain wasn’t in. “Now I want you to cover a large area of where you generally want the shape of the star to go, it doesn’t have to be perfect but cover much more than you think you’d need to.”

He hesitates, “won’t this cover up your sky? It’s a dark colour.”

“Just trust me.”

He followed her instructions, cringing as his brush made contact with her beautiful wall and went over the faint background stars she had already done, but relaxed when he saw they were still partially visible. 

Az looked back at her, seeing his shadows lazily inspecting them, as if they wanted a part in the activity their master is occupied with. Feyre playfully eyed the curious one that grazed her hand as she took his current brush from his scarred hand to switch it. “Now with this fan brush, I want you to coat it in the white paint. And as you do so, get a feel for how the bristles bend and move.”

Doing as High Lady said, he got her guidance once he brought the loaded brush to the wall, being sure to dab, not swipe the white in a near full coverage circle followed by a line over the shade of blue he had no idea how to pronounce. 

“So this is where the magic begins,” she stated when he finished and passed a third brush over, a flat paddle one identical to the first and this time a cloth. “You see that perfectly clean teardrop you made? You’re gonna ruin it.”

At the alarmed look he gave her, she just cackled. “I knew you’d make that face, Rhys did the exact same. I want you to very lightly swipe the brush starting at the largest end of the teardrop and out towards the tail of the star. That’s the only motion you’ll be doing. And after each swipe you can gently wipe off the brush before starting again. You can also practice the strokes around the mountain until you feel ready like Rhys did, the sky there is also dry.”

With a deep breath, he took a step away and tried it until he felt like he got the technique she wanted down. This was for his family, he reminded himself, he will not let his nephew down. And despite getting her nod of approval, he still felt like he was going in blind as he did what she said and his jaw dropped. 

Well shit. Now he understood why she wanted him to put down the colour he chose first. 

“The blue is actually transparent; so while it looks dark in the tube, it blends out much lighter. Especially with white under or overtop. You’re doing wet-on-wet blending.” What was once just a bright blob over blue so dark you couldn’t see it on her perfect walls, he could now see how the white faded. How the light and the dark mixed until they became one. So Az wiped the excess off his brush, and continued on and on until it looked similar enough to what she and Rhys created. They fell into a rhythm, Feyre handing him back the fan brush to brighten or a new one with bristles so impossibly soft as they worked as a team. She barely had to tell him what to do now, so with next to no pressure he feathered it out vertical rather than the almost horizontal strokes from before, until only a streak of blue light remained. They could’ve been at this for minutes or hours, he had no idea. He didn’t even question her instruction to use a densely bristled tool he could’ve sworn was a toothbrush to flick on watered down white paint for the star trail. 

“This is incredible, Feyre.” He stated, stepping back at last.

“That wasn’t me, that was all you my friend.” She grinned at him. “Once everyone’s is dry, I’m adding a sheer shimmery paint to make them pop, but even without it you did a beautiful job.”

He felt heat rise to his face, and inclined his head in thanks without removing his eyes from the wall. 

“You certainly have an eye for this, Az. Care to quit and become a painter? I could use an assistant.”

A chill went through him, and he started to turn in her direction before the window caught his attention. Dusk must have fallen along with the rain who knows how long ago. About to rub his temples, Feyre squeaked out a warning before he remembered the task at hand and looked down at himself. The plain black long sleeve shirt covered in splatters didn’t matter, he goes through them like water for work but the paint coating his skin made his stomach drop the same way her jest did. Much different than the red he was used to seeing there, all the blood he still couldn’t wash away.

He can paint a picture with his knife, but nothing like Feyre’s ability of creation. Each slash he makes as delicate and precise a dance as any Nesta favours, but instead it’s to a symphony of screams. And unlike Elain… the only soil he sees is grave dirt. If the bodies make it that far. 

His work is never meant to been seen by others, it’s means to and end, a way to protect his family and his court. Unlike their work, where it would be a crime to hide it from the world.

“Tempting offer, Cursebreaker,” Az murmured, swapping the dirty cloth for a damp one his shadows brought him. Paying close attention to his siphons and not his scars, he still didn’t feel clean enough no matter how hard he wiped the paint from his skin. “Sadly, I don’t think your mate would be too thrilled to have to hire someone else to feed the creatures in Hewn City.”

She snorted, making a lighthearted comment about at least no one had to feed Byraxis, for now… The forced tease in her voice didn’t fool him as she realized she must’ve hit a nerve, but he appreciated her effort anyway.

“I do have to head out, but I’ll pop by soon to see the progress when I drop off paperwork.” He told her, his lips pressed to the top of her head and shockingly made contact with her hair in a brief farewell. Rhys must’ve lessened the shield knowing Az was with her, but not by much considering both her and the babe’s scent was still concealed. 

Feyre did invited him to stay for dinner which he politely declined. It wouldn’t be served for an hour, but he needed space and to fly to clear his head—still feeling like if he looked down he’d be dripping blood that didn’t belong to him as he made his was out. He did try not to rush out as he walk through the maze of supplies strewn about the covered floor, keeping his wings high even as his shadows tugged at him, but he had a feeling she knew his reason for leaving. Well, at least the other reason. 

Lightning cracks through the sky, snapping Azriel out of his memories. Damn, He must be more tired than he thought. If breaking one of the cardinal rules of flying—also known as “PAY ATTENTION JACKASS!” by his brothers when they taught him—wasn’t enough, he’s not even going to the right place. Despite not living there for years, he’d been heading towards the town house and not the House of Wind. 

The storm just seems to be picking up, but at least with the downpour he no longer felt the warm spray of blood coating him rather than the paint, he just felt nothing at all. Well, nothing besides wanting to get the fuck home. Az really didn’t have the energy to fly up a mountain or winnowing through this even if it wouldn’t be his first time. But considering how often lightning hits the rocks rather than the surrounding city, crashing at the town house is easiest. It’s for the best, with it sitting empty now. At least he’d be alone. 

Az pauses mid-flight though, when he notices the lights already on inside. And the smoke rising from the chimney only to dissipate in the rain.

What the hell? Who would be dumb enough to break into their high lord and inner circle’s home? It’s not like it’s broadcasted who owns the house but it’s pretty common knowledge after this long. 

At least storms can be a great tool for his field of work, it’s almost a blessing in disguise he plans to use to its full advantage. Landing atop the roof as gently as possible, he ensures his wing beat blends in with the rain like it has hundreds of times before. Using his siphons to unlock the door and slipping inside, the creak of the hinge merely just a gust of wind as he shuts it behind him. 

That’s when the smell of jasmine and honey hits him so strongly he has to bite back his moan. But it seems like he was the only one who did. 

Because mixed within that scent ingrained in his brain, is Elain’s arousal. 

And she’s…

Oh fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck

[n7punk]

"the long way down" Fic Notes

TLWD is done now so I get to be a little insane about it. I’ve had meta about Outside of the War fics before, but this one… is certainly something Else, so I’ve enough to say to need the structure of a fic notes post.

Chapter 1:

⦁ Off the bat, the Mara thing: again, I’ve said this a couple times, but I don’t think her surviving in the portal is canon. I’m not sure what the timeline of the Heart going off and Mara moving Etheria was, much less what was up with the first version of the portal (something happened from what Razz said, but who knows it if it was the exact same thing), so it’s hard to say if she even would have gotten suspended like that in the first place. It was fun to write that fic, but I didn’t want to carry that continuity into this one. I wanted this idea to stand on its own and Mara being alive would have complicated the hell out of this. She would have known stuff, and either wanted or really not wanted to see the ruins of Eternia, and it just… would have been so many complications, especially if she didn’t go with them on that journey, because then they would have had to debate going back for her or not and…. Yeah it’s just Too Much.

⦁ The little italic preview (something I use so sparingly I think this might be my first time ever) at the beginning of the fic is obviously from the scene in chapter three, but cut down to size because again, sparing. It’s contextless here and half-context wouldn’t have served it.

⦁ It has come up a lot in my fics, but Adora being into cartography is something Aimee (her VA) mentioned at a con as like, a headcanon, and my brain immediately accepted that and went right that’s canon now lol. It just fits really well so it’s come up in my post-canon fics a lot as a hobby, but this is the first time it has been plot-important.

⦁ Catra getting jealous of paper is from a previous OotW fic, return from civility.

⦁ George and Lance literally have a 3D-projection star chart in their library that they show off in the season 2 finale, but the star charts Adora pulls out are very different from that because it’s a 2D inscription of flight paths between systems rather than a chart of constellations, so it wasn’t blatantly obvious what it was until they could start translating things with Adora’s help.

⦁ Let’s talk about the chapter art because you cannot imagine how much work that took! Like it’s stupid! I wanted essentially an “arrow” made from First Ones numbers pointing in the direction of Eternia. I went through a lot of rough drafts before I decided, for simplicity’s sake (my sanity) instead of it literally saying “One thousand four hundred and sixteen” it would say “1416” because god is that a lot to cram into a small space and stay readable, much less connected. I’m like 95% sure what I produced is correct by the guidelines of the language, but it’s a lot of lines to track, so if it’s wrong… I don’t want to hear it. Some details, though. The shadowy background compass has an “indent” in the center of it — that’s actually the letter E, standing for “Eternia,” in the First Ones’ script. Each of the numbers/words gets progressively smaller as it goes on, which isn’t in the rules, but in my opinion it makes it easier to read because you can intuit that you’re supposed to start at least one of the ends, and Clare approved, so I’m keeping it. (Yeah, if you know what post I’m talking about, I’ve been sitting on this fic idea that long. I wrote half the fic then and got distracted by shiny new things lmao). It was really hard picking colors for the image that would show up well on various site backgrounds, but in the end I decided it was impossible to accommodate for most skins, so I should focus on the two most-used ones instead and ended up with the blue and gray that show up decently on both the white and dark mode site skins. It’s not perfect on either, but it’s pretty good on both, and that’s the best I could ask for. I purposefully picked numbers that were one syllable so I didn’t have to deal with multiple syllable branches since making this image do what I want was already so much work lmao. I tried to figure out the words by myself first but I always double-check my First Ones script work with the translator on itch.io so thank you to whoever made that you have been a life-saver multiple times for me <3

⦁ I went back and forth on whether they’d be wives by the time of this one, and then I remembered it’s somewhere around two years post-canon and they’re lesbians. I think they probably got married shortly before leaving. I also stand by the idea of Glimbow getting engaged first but married way later (royal wedding nonsense, it came up in either "to make a home," or "her heart on her sleeve." Maybe both) and since they were getting married right after this trip, that would mean Catra and Adora are married.

⦁ Trolla is a planet in the MOTU. It’s where Orko is from… which means nothing to you if you haven’t watched the original He-man, but google an image of him, because somehow that exact character design pops up in so much shit. I’m pretty sure there’s a character like that in Kingdom Hearts, which means there’s also a character like that in Final Fantasy, but don’t quote me on that. I feel like he and Loo-Kee were pretty equivalent to me when I was a kid and Loo-Kee was at the end of every damn She-ra episode with his little “today’s moral” shtick.

Chapter 2:

⦁ Honestly, part of the reason Catra is wielding a staff in the cult scene is because I did all the research for the dolls and her accessory in that line was a staff. Which… okay sure, but she does use them in canon. Like twice. But it felt right here with the potential flashback stuff.

⦁ I made sure to include mention of the two moons originally shown around Eternia in my Children of the Crystal series. Just a little bit of consistency.

⦁ I thought about the… manufactured planet thing from Mass Effect Andromeda (listen, I haven’t played the game since it came out, I don’t really remember) while describing Eternia, and it got me thinking about how in sci-fi and stuff, structures like this are always in grayscale. They’re gray, or maybe white, but never like… yellow, and certainly not rainbow. The First Ones ruins we’ve seen have all been very colorful, so I thought a vibrant, rainbow planet, indicating life and art and culture, but still from this destructive society, would really be interesting.

⦁ The “ruins incident” is the impotence for a fic I’ve never written and probably never will but damn has that not stopped me thinking it through every few months. The timeline doesn’t even work out because that’s supposed to happen like five years after this but it’s mostly a reference for myself lmao.

⦁ I know Catra and Adora have “memes” personal to them dating back to their time in the Horde and still forming to this day, but I imagine Catra and Melog have their own jokes too that no one else has even the faintest idea about because it all happens in their heads.

⦁ Originally I explained it in the fic before I decided the Gatekeeper wouldn’t know it, but the reason there were only signs of evacuation deep inside was because part of Protocol Zero’s mandatory evacuation was evacuation tiers. It’s the highest threat level possible and that means everybody needs to leave and could clog the skies, making it impossible for anyone to really escape. There’s also bullshit prioritization of “well, these people deserve to get out more than others” so it's stratified to ensure some people (the most important) get out first. First in line was royalty and the highest ranks of the military (to coordinate rebuilding efforts once escaped), then the highest ranks of state-sponsored scientists and nobility, followed by the mid ranks of state-sponsors scientists and high rank state-sponsored artists, and then concurrently mid-level military, more scientists, and high-rank citizens. Finally, the rest of the artists and citizens (aka free-for-all tier).

⦁ The Citadel is a reference to Mass Effect.

⦁ A whole decade ago I saw a post on Tumblr claiming a “moment” used to be an actual measurement of time (roughly 90 seconds) that I never forgot and it turns out that was actually true (this was the era of Alexandria’s Genesis so you know… easily could have been bullshit I never bothered to google) so I threw it in in this fic as a fun fact about medieval sundial measurement.

⦁ Almost nothing works on the planet because it all ran on wireless power, and the transmission towers for that were completely destroyed by the Horde’s invasion. The Horde them pulverized everything else it could find, tracing down every last electrical signal or sign of life and snuffing it out. The only thing that survived were bugs that were hibernating underground or in the rare piece of plant life that wasn’t destroyed. Seeds in the earth also sprouted later, leaving those as the only survivors of the massacre. The Horde occupied Eternia for a while making sure nothing else would pop up, but eventually Prime was satisfied and got the fuck out of there, afraid of their integration of tech and magic and tired of losing clones to lingering mechanical boobytraps.

⦁ Okay the meta for Mara’s painting is that one of the quickest paths to state sponsorship was art depicting the planet. The Eternians really did view it as the ultimate art piece. Mara did something groundbreaking for her time and portrayed it as it originally was before all the terraforming. The establishment didn’t like that. Even worse, she used an ephemeral medium involving a mix of materials that would break down over time, and while it was good and above average, she was far from the most impressive artist that year alone. Mara really did think the transformation of Eternia was awe-inspiring at the time, but doubt set in after she was assigned to the brand-new (not even begun, really) colony on Etheria and started falling in love with its vibrant nature. Eternia still had plenty of it, but it was carefully cultivated through landscaping and terraforming. Ironically, it has become a lot closer to Etheria’s untamed state by the time of the fic, thanks to the lack of direct intervention and partially-damaged terraformers. (Side note: the terraforming system ran on its own network with a million safeties in place because, you know, if they ever shut off the path of the planet around the sun could permanently be altered from its irregular shape. It was Very Important they survive anything, and Horde Prime didn't try to destroy them while occupying it because he also needed it to not be flung into the sun)

⦁ Being a state-sponsored artist basically means you get a salary instead of living commission-to-commission, access to grant programs to create big pieces of art, essentially advertising and general public approval, and access to exclusive display locations, especially in architecture or high-traffic areas (think the mosaics they found). Mara wanted to try, so she applied to the symposium basically fresh out of high school with the plan that if it didn’t work out she would follow in her parent’s footsteps (military family) and join a colony exploration program. If she got approval or even just a grant she would go to art school, but, well, she didn’t. So she ended up training in military academy, bouncing around a few colonies, and then making her way to Commander rank and Etheria.

Chapter 3:

⦁ The “three workshops that they know about” thing is because Catra is sure Entrapta is hiding more questionable experiments from them in the walls. And she’s right.

⦁ The data crystal art says “Final log” on its front and “Distress” (as in, distress signal) in the background. I never really translate that in the fic but it was also going in the final chapter when the fic notes were about to be posted so I wasn’t too worried about it.

⦁ My idea for the crystal was that it would be really hard to find any logs of what happened because, well, everybody who would have made or kept those logs was dead and the Horde destroyed a lot of what they found. This was a transmission that was intercepted at long-range on this smaller mining planet and was basically a portent of their imminent doom to them, the Horde arriving shortly after they received it, leaving this as one of the few logs the Eternians managed to preserve.

⦁ I didn’t actually reference a data crystal from the show for my drawing, I just ran off my memory of what it looked like, so it’s probably a little off, but I thought that would actually fit with the “artistic representation” thing like the planet had. The downward slanting of the words (and especially the descending of the sounds in the word “Distress”) are a visual representation of the signal dropping off and the “long way down” metaphor.

⦁ I didn’t actually intend to have an illustration per chapter for this fic initially. It was just supposed to be the first one. I drew that all the way back in January/February when I first started working on this fic, but as I was describing Eternia, I was like… this would actually be fun to draw. And then it seemed weird to have a drawing for 2 out of 3 chapters, so I added the data crystal, and I like how that worked out since I got to do the “subtle” stuff (so subtle it needs to be explained lmao) with the distress signal in the background.

⦁ Yeah so what’s up with that metaphor, right? I don’t know. Like, okay, I kind of do, but basically that song latched onto this fic and then they fed off each other and I have NO idea why. Like, it fits, but it’s also like… why this. For the people who don’t listen to songs when fics link them (I’ll be honest, I rarely do, even though I discovered my favorite band in the world that way), “Long Way Down” is a song about going to hell. I think the specific story is supposed to reflect preachers and religious folk who espouse how everyone else is full of sin and going to hell, but really they’re just going to end up down there too (“I’ve been fucking around while you’ve been saving the world... from nothing”). It’s not a direct fit in that way, but in the hubris, where you think you’re giants but you’re actually going to fall like all the others? Yeah, seemed fitting for the First Ones.

⦁ Tellus is earth in Latin. Being that the originals are 80s cartoons, Earth is of course canon and there was a Christmas special set there. As I remember it, Earth was some #Isekai shit (okay not really but) where it was just the normal modern world and then He-man and She-ra showed up to take teens on adventures so Americans could teach them the true meaning of Christmas or something. I haven’t watched it since I was a very small child so I could be wrong. I got sidetracked. Yes Earth went kaput in this universe. Yes that had consequences. Yes he was saying “Commander Adam, signing off.”

⦁ Having just come off of CotC where I finally really went into my time travel headcanon… Yeah a lot of people knew this wasn’t going to end well. Honestly, when I initially planned this fic, I had this idea that Adora would touch the console and it would greet her as the lost princess — or even that she would find a recording from her lost twin brother — but either way she would find out that she probably came from the past. The problem was… that also doesn’t match my headcanon? (Refresher/If you didn’t read CotC: my headcanon is that since dimensional portals were cut off in Despondos, only time portals worked, so Light Hope pulled Adora through after spending a long time building one and trying to figure out where to open it to get her. This is why she popped out in the middle of a field: that’s just where she was physically located in the past.) My headcanon is that Adora was a regular child to settlers on Etheria when the Horde attacked and Light Hope eventually made the time portal and snatched her away before she could die. The system back home on Eternia probably wouldn’t recognize her as a random baby in the colonies, so it just didn’t track (especially the princess thing. That was something I thought about when I was first forming the headcanon in 2020, but it didn’t stick. Adora being “normal” is what made sense to me). I did consider having it be some thing where like, well maybe she was still born on Eternia or some major colony where she would be registered in the system, but honestly, that was all too definitive, and I liked the idea of it recognizing She-ra and them learning a little more about Mara.

⦁ Honestly, I don’t think Adora and Adam are even twins in this verse for me. I think cousins makes the most sense here (especially since he was like 20-30 in the recording and Adora would have been Very Small). If he were her sibling, that would make him some random twin she doesn’t know and never learns much about, but this way he’s still important to present Adora because his recording is the one that really made her accept what happened, and isn’t that the kind of thing that older siblings are supposed to do? Take care of their siblings, loving them and telling them the hard truths, through losing their family/home/way of life, etc? Idk, this somehow felt closer to the spirit of the OG canon than giving her a random twin that she didn’t know much about. Her finding a living twin who lives somewhere out in space didn’t feel like the spirit of this SPOP either (especially since they were expressly forbidden to even consider Adam/He-man), so we ended up here.

⦁ This is gonna sound weird but — canonically — I don’t think Adora has parents unless they make a movie. Like the time travel theory still makes sense to me, and if they ever made a movie I feel like finding her parents out in space would be an obvious plot point to get a bit more of a “happy ending” and tie up loose ends from the show, but like… I don’t think the show — in isolation — intends for them to be out there, and I think her not finding them is more tragic if they’re alive somewhere than the time travel thing where they’ve been gone for a thousand years so there’s no chance of recovery.

⦁ After some discussion with a Science Person I determined that it was possible for the DNA changes to be passed down in people who constantly produce sperm, and for people with eggs too if the process also affected the eggs inside of them (since they're only produced once). Also, magic bullshit is floating around helps and all of this is all theoretical anyway so I’m doing what I want lol.

⦁ Edit: Somehow I forgot to talk about this but. The First Ones. Yeah so, in this... I mean they are basically human. Their terraforming (and general tech) processes changed them into something distinguishable, but not all that different. After a thousand years, any First Ones that did survive the original genocide would have to have intermixed with humans to survive. The changes from terraforming would long be diluted and mutated away until humans really are all that's left. Catra's speculation about resettling an old colony planet is the best chance for them still existing, and like she said, they wouldn't even know that they're secretly picking up the genetic signatures of Eternians. I've never been sure if the First Ones are actually different from humans, or just a nationality, or perhaps an ancestor/divergent race from them (I think that question is purposefully left open-ended), so I did... this, which is kind of a combination. IDK, I just thought it was a cool possibility that would explain their humanness while still making them distinct in a (fairly) plausible way. The materials our modern world is made of are causing changes to our bodies (from lettuce insecticide in our blood to earlier hormone development) so something as extensive as terraforming would produce changes that could diverge them enough to be detectable. This leads to things like Adora's puberty being a bit different (unnaturally fast) and her alcohol tolerance being wild (I mean, that's something that varies between people already without a genetic splinter) but leaves her still - essentially - human. First Ones and humans started from the same place but splintered eventually. This isn't like some other things where it's my firm headcanon, but I do think it's a cool idea, so it was fun to do here and it both acts as another hint to the time travel possibility while also explaining how Adora could have parents and there could be "surviving First Ones" in the present. It wasn't part of the original plan for the fic, but I'm really glad it developed as I wrote because it's really interesting to me.

⦁ Catra is right about the cycle wearing on Adora, but it’s a little more than that: Adora could only convince herself to leave Eternia by turning her attention back to their mission, and the moment there was a real pause in it she realized that she didn’t want to keep doing this after all.

⦁ Adora will have questions for a while, and wonder about it occasionally, but she has kind of accepted that what really makes her happy is Etheria. She wishes she knew the answers, but not enough to abandon where she's actually happy and search for them. She doesn't want to fly for a year to some location in far space for answers, she wants her true family, and that's Catra and her friends.

Meta:

Compass art (1416)

Eternia art

Data crystal art

Upcoming:

Uhhhh I really don’t know right now? Could be a lot of things. My brain can’t settle on anything long enough to choose right now so it’ll probably be a week before I’m even sure enough to tell y’all. Check back here I guess lol

[sunbadger]

Dalia Bauer - doomed by fate

"I’m not sure I'd want to start a family, but I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like. Or, more realistically - just to see the world next year."

The promising candidate who would later be sacrificed to pass her power down to Bertholdt.

A young girl with an absent father and a mother sentenced to Paradis, holding no hope of survival without the role of a warrior. A spreading infection in her mother’s leg and lack of funds led them to the streets, where necessities were scarce. Their only consistent supply of food came from abandoned plates in restaurants, the garbage outside, and rare gifts from passersby. A bad habit, partly led by greed, partly led by desperation, led them to a life of thievery. The young girl became a con artist and a thief, granting herself some coins, luxuries and jewelry from unsuspecting crowds.

It was no surprise when her mother was arrested, followed shortly by herself. They had gotten just a little too greedy, a little too desperate, and stolen more and more accessories of gold and silver. For a few weeks before the arrest, her mother was able to afford new rags and fresh food, and even made them feel pretty with rings on their fingers and necklaces hanging down their collarbones. For a short while, the young girl was treated to a taste of freedom - one which she would never forget.

Dalia never saw her mother be turned into a titan. An older man dressed in uniform had stopped her as she waited in line to be transported to the outer wall. He was rough with her, and both Dalia and her mother were screaming to give her back, but once she had calmed down, he dropped her off at the military training facility. Like a disposable doll, she was thrown to the ground, dirtying the clothes her mother had gotten for her. She was not very talkative, and refused to speak to the general - but the cop must have put in a good word for her, or perhaps provided an ultimatum. Since she was so young, she would be easy to train for the new warrior program, and if it didn’t work out, there was no such thing as too many suicide bombers. Since she lacked both the strength and the motivation to fight back, the choice was simple. The general took her in and told her to show him what she was capable of. 

Looking back, Dalia believes that cop was attempting to save her life - and like the survivor she is, she took the chance. She never had much worth fighting for other than the, perhaps egotistical, desire to stay alive. It rarely crossed her mind that she was training to take the lives of other beings. Her eyes were constantly focused on what was ahead, whether it was the track she had to run or the targets she had to shoot, the ceremony granting her the Colossal, and the fields she had to burn. When she transformed, the grass turned black, falling trees turned to ashes, and the ground warped under her feet. Entire ecosystems being destroyed meant that a roof, a warm dinner and a soft bed were awaiting her return. It was horrifying - but also so beautiful.

Next time I will write more about her life as a warrior and what led to her death, as well as the AU where she survives and goes on to infiltrate the walls. This is a draft so nothing is really final. Her character has some inconsistencies and things that could be improved upon which i'll think about. (but this is mainly just for fun, of course). In the future I'll consider writing a fanfiction featuring her.

thanks for reading if you got this far lmao! feel free to leave some feedback.

[hypaalicious]

3,6,& 9 if you please~ it's so good seeing you on my dash 💖

Yeah I’m lame and screenshot the questions cause I end up forgetting what I’m even talking about mid-type 😂

… also, I read “3, 6, 9” and immediately followed it up with “damn you fine, hoping she can sock it to me one more time, GET LOWWWW GET LOW GET LOWWW”

Sorry okay let me get back on track

I answered 3 in a previous ask, so

#6 - hardest part is probably just starting to write, LMAO! There’s nothing like the intimidation of facing a blank document and a flashing cursor waiting for you to put something down, frfr. I end up overthinking the story before I’ve even written it. 😩 Once I get rolling, it’s a lot easier, even though I have mini hurdles along the way like trying to figure out the BEST word to use in a sentence or how to transition scenes.

#9 - writing process??? WHAT’S THAT

Okay well I can now say it’s totally different between fics vs novels/script writing

For fics, it’s totally “get obsessed with an idea, marinate on it in your mind for days, fly off the seat of your pants while writing it”. What I plan is often not entirely how the fics go, but hey, I get to be surprised by the outcome just as much as the readers are 😂

For novels and professional writing, I learned that outlines are mandatory, so I start with that. Pacing must fit within thresholds and if you just ramble you end up with a lot that needs to be trimmed or re-worked, and that sucks. I basically had to re-write my manuscript from scratch after the first draft got (lovingly) critiqued by beta readers because fic writing ain’t novel writing, LOL. Also, to help get my writing going, I actually RP’d a third of it with a good friend to get a feel for how I wanted it to go. This prevented me from falling into a writer’s block cause I had someone else basically prompting me to write my story bits at a time. The final product is very different from what was RP’d, but that base really helped me get the rest of it done.

I also wrote scenes out of order instead of stressing over writing “boring” parts to catch up to the stuff I really wanted to write. Never did that before, but once again, it was to stave off writer’s block.

For game writing scripts… lord, that was such an adjustment 😩 Yes, outlining is mandatory! Believe it or not, my weakest link is writing dialogue. I depend on narrative descriptions to fill space, but in a game where everything is dialogue driven it’s rough. I had to picture my characters talking way more than I’ve ever even pictured actual people talking, LOL! My introvert status is mad showing, I know 😂 But dude, you don’t realize how much dialogue is involved in even the most mundane things until you’re like “oh, I can’t infer their nervousness through descriptive body language or tense atmosphere, I have to figure out how to make them say they’re nervous without actually having them SAY straight up they’re nervous and not having it feel like scenes move clunkily.” I’m so damn verbose that I didn’t think I could do it, fam. 🥲

But now I’m in 100% script writing mode and just need to finish the game so I can throw myself back into long-form writing to get my groove back 😂

[obsessivelollipoplalala]

Lol also, I swear people are dedicated to ignoring “Soul Brother” because it’s definitive proof that Freddie did not hate Brian in the slightest.

You know I've had people argue with me that, that song was written earlier and Freddie and Brian grew apart because....reason and I'm always there like that song was written during Hot space the one album era during which the band as a whole was fighting the most, the duration in which tensions ran high the most, They only got CLOSER after that 🫠. And that song went on B side of Under Pressure, a song Brian bowed out of.

I love that whenever you present like, actual facts in this fandom, people just go “:( no!!!”

Yes, “Soul Brother” was written for Hot Space, a time when the band was struggling creatively and spending a lot less time together, contributing to tension between them. It was the B-side to “Under Pressure”, which was apparently a shit show of an endeavor and not only did Brian stop working on the song at some point, but it seems like he really didn’t get along with David Bowie (even more or less writing a diss track against him and referring to him as “Blowie” in the early draft of another song lmao). The band was clearly struggling, and Freddie wrote that unabashedly sweet song for Brian anyway. We can speculate as to why, but regardless, I think reassuring someone you still love and value them during a rough patch is quite the opposite of hating them!

[seung-hwa]

play to win

Word Count: 3.4k

Pairing: brat!Wooyoung x reader

Warnings: Smut! Sub!Woo, HardDom!reader, muddy relationship but errs on being a fwb situation, mind games, jealousy, possessiveness, choking, degradation (use of the words slut and whore towards Woo), hitting (sexually), piv, unprotected sex, rough sex, hair pulling, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), fingering, handjob, edging, orgasm denial, teasing, creampie, hopefully I’m not missing anything because holy fuck lmao

Summary: Wooyoung is being a flirtatious brat and you’ve gotta show him his place.

A/N: I kept putting off writing this since I’m very much not a dom and it was difficult for me to write like one but hopefully this is good. This has been sitting in the drafts since November so let me know what you think.

You watched him from across the room, eyes keeping track of every movement he made, blood boiling with every new person he decided to flirt with. Tonight, Wooyoung had decided that he would be a brat, would make you mad, because you always gave him the best sex when you treated him a little bad. He loved seeing the fire behind your eyes when you would finally pin him down and punish him for acting like a slut. You decided that you wouldn’t let him get to you, not tonight, not when you knew the game he was playing.

The drink you were nursing in your hand was soon forgotten as you scanned the room for someone to dance with. If he wanted to make you jealous… well two could play at that game. Except you know Woo would never get jealous, he just didn’t like when your attention was on anyone but him. Tonight you would use that to your advantage, especially once you caught sight of his good friend, Changbin.

The man in question was talking to his other friends Jisung and Chan, but that didn’t stop you from sauntering over and wrapping an arm around his waist. The sudden contact surprised him, but when he saw it was you, he immediately calmed down. He spared you a smile before resuming his conversation. Both Jisung and Chan acknowledged your presence with nods of their heads. You let this go on for a while, just hanging onto Changbin and acting engaged with the conversation being held. In reality you didn’t care what they were talking about, you kept one eye always on Wooyoung, waiting for him to make his move before you made yours.

It wasn’t healthy, this little competition, but you didn’t care and you know he didn’t either. You were both playing to win, except this time you would come out on top. You watched as he slid behind some pretty girl, his hands settling at her waist as he leaned in to whisper in her ear. She was tipsy, you could tell, but she sobered up when she caught a good look at the man behind her. The noise that escaped you was a cross between a chuckle and a scoff, he just had that effect on people, he was so captivating and you couldn’t blame her for suddenly giving him all her attention. While you were watching her she was watching him and he was watching you. He caught your eye and there you both stood, in silent conversation with each other from across the room. The smirk that graced his lips was infuriating, but you refused to show it. Instead, you gave him your own polite smile, before tearing your eyes from him and positioning yourself right in front of Changbin.

Now, Wooyoung could clearly see who you had been leaning against, and although you couldn’t see him, you knew his jaw was clenching at the sight of you and his best friend. With you placing yourself in front of Changbin you had effectively cut off his conversation. He stared at you in confusion, until your hands made their way up his chest, before landing behind his neck.

“Wanna dance Binnie?” you fluttered your eyelashes at him and he agreed quickly, the two other boys quickly forgotten. The dance wasn’t much of anything, just swaying against each other to the beat of the song. Truly you only had yourself to blame though, as you had buried your face in his neck and left kisses along the skin. You felt the fingers at your waist flexing, grip hardening against you. You were definitely doing something to him, and when you finally sucked on his skin his resolve quickly dissolved.

He was pushing you against the nearest wall, which thankfully wasn’t too far from where you both originally were. His lips met yours in a hurry, as if he knew he was a part of this game too, and he had to have you for as long as he could get you. Technically everyone knew who you “belonged” to, and they were equally privy to the stupid little games Woo would play with you, but never once had you reciprocated any of his pettiness. This was Changbin’s chance to taste you. His hand climbed up the column of your neck and you let it, for once you were the one being choked and not the other way around. It was exhilarating, and you understood why Wooyoung was so into having your hand wrapped around his neck.

The kiss was a mess of teeth and tongue and you wouldn’t have it any other way, the hand squeezing at your neck causing you to squeeze your thighs too. You had never really thought of Changbin in this way, but maybe you should’ve. The thought doesn’t last too long as you feel Changbin move away from you in a hurry. It’s not of his own doing, but rather that of Wooyoung’s as he holds his friend by the collar, glare going from between the two of you.

You smirk at him, reaching once more for Changbin to resume what Woo had so rudely interrupted. He doesn’t give you the chance, instead pushing Changbin away and telling him to fuck off. To your disappointment, he doesn’t put up much of a fight, but when Woo isn’t looking he slips you a wink, which you meet back with a playful roll of your eyes. You know you’d be too much for him to handle, but you’ll let him dream about it.

Wooyoungs hand comes to your chin, pinching it between two fingers, “what the fuck were you doing?”

“I know you’re not stupid Woo, what do you think I was doing?”

“Acting like a fucking whore is what it looks like,” he’s angry, you can see it in the way his nostrils flare, but you don’t care.

“Oh… you mean I was acting like you?”

“You know who you belong to,” he says firmly ignoring your jab at him, but you can see his resolve crumbling, knowing that he can’t keep this act up for long. See, everyone thinks that you’re the meek one in this little… situationship, but they couldn’t be farther from the truth. You’re the one who has him in the palm of your hand, and you won’t let him forget.

“And who the fuck do you think you’re talking to with that fucking attitude,” you push his hand away from you and tilt your head to the side, “don’t forget your place,” you flick at his nose, “slut”. The term makes him swallow the lump in his throat and you follow the movement with your eyes. You may be the one against the wall, but he’s the one mentally flailing against it, especially when you bring your hand to his throat, now this feels familiar, this feels right. He swallows again and this time you feel the movement beneath your hand.

Your smile is wicked as he looks down at you. Big and strong Wooyoung with his pretty neck in your hand, you squeeze it and harshly pull him towards you, eliciting a gasp from his throat.

“Play stupid games and win stupid prizes baby,” the usual term of endearment is dripping in sarcasm. This isn’t the outcome Wooyoung was expecting but he’ll take it regardless, all for the chance that you’ll manhandle him.

And that you do.

When you reach his apartment he tries to pounce on you and you push him away.

“Did I say you could touch me?” And he at least has the nerve to look a little ashamed as he shakes his head no.

“I asked you a question. Answer me,”.

“No,”.

“No, what?”

“No, you didn’t say I could touch you,”.

“So then why did you?”

His eyes widen and he looks exasperated as he tries to think of an answer.

“Only good boys get to touch, and you’re not a good boy, are you?”

“I am?!”

“Oh you are? Because you had no problem flirting with anything that had a pulse at the party, that’s not something a good boy would do. That’s something an attention seeking whore would do,” he whimpers at your words and looks at his feet. It’s definitely a sight to behold, to have Wooyoung, a man larger than you are, look so small. You know the effect you have on him, can see it in the way a bulge starts to form in his pants, maybe it’s due to you calling him whore or maybe it’s due to his excitement at what the rest of the night brings.

You approach him slowly, taking his face in your hands, “will you be a good boy for me Woo? Stop being such a brat?”

“Yes,” his voice comes out as a whisper, and you can feel his breath against your lips. You keep eye contact with him until your lips meet his in a gentle kiss. He knows not to take more than what you give him. When you break away he looks at you expectantly and you gesture towards his room, instructing him to take his clothes off and wait for you on his bed. He leaves you in a hurry and you restrain the chuckle that threatens to leave you. You take your time, stripping the heels from your feet, even checking your phone for any messages, knowing that the anticipation is killing him.

When you finally make it into his bedroom he truly is a sight to behold. He sits at the edge of the bed, hands resting at his side even though you know he wants to touch himself. He looks up at you expectantly and you sit yourself on his lap, feeling his hardness brush against your inner thigh. Usually he’d be much more of a brat, touching himself and making you angry, but you suppose that seeing you kiss his best friend was enough to rip the defiance right out of him. He rests his hands on your waist and nuzzles your neck, uttering a small please. You look down at him and push his shoulders gently, “why are you saying please Woo?”

“Please don’t do that again…”

“Do you mean kissing your friends?”

He nods his head sadly, and it tugs at your heart. You didn’t mean to hurt him, in this game it looks like you took things just a little too far. Exclusivity was never the deal between the two of you, in fact, Wooyoung was always free to do what he wanted and whoever he wanted. It seems he’s grown attached with the tables being flipped around, but this was a conversation to be had at a later time. For now, you’d lessen his sadness, and give him what he’s wanted all night.

“Okay, Woo. I won’t do it again.”

He nods again and brings his lips to yours, the kiss is soft and slow, an intimacy between the two of you that you don’t always get with him. He’s usually such a horny pain in your ass that you both never really do the “making love” type of deal. You pull away from him, resting your forehead against him and ask, “rough or soft tonight?”

He contemplates your question for a moment. All night he was hoping for you to manhandle him, treat him badly, and despite the softness you show him now, he still wants it rough.

“Rough,” he says. You give him one final soft peck to his lips before pushing his torso down on the bed. He adjusts himself to lay higher on it, head leaning back against the pillows as he waits for you in anticipation.

You pull your panties off, deciding to keep your dress on just to tease him, and then place your pussy right over his face. He knows exactly what to do, but before you allow his tongue to meet your folds you pull at his hair harshly, eliciting a moan from him.

“If you make me come then maybe I’ll let you fuck me. Got it?”

He nods his head vigorously, eyes only on the wetness above him. In response you pull his hair harder, his eyes squeezing shut at the pain, “answer me,” you demand, “or are you so much of a slut for my pussy that you can’t speak?”

“I got it, I’ll make you come I promise,” he whimpers in response, and with that you ease up on the grip you have on his hair, giving him all the permission he needs to eat you out.

And eat you out he does, he’s like a man starved with the way his tongue runs up and down your folds before playing with your clit. You try your best to hold onto the headboard, careful not to fully sit on his face and cut off his air supply, but it looks like he has other plans for you. His hands grip your thighs tight, and he pulls you onto his face, all your weight settles on him and he loves the way you feel. He absolutely adores the way you taste as he sucks on your clit, his ultimate goal is to make you moan, because that’s how he knows he’s doing a good job. You ride his face for a while, entranced with the way he looks beneath you. When he makes eye contact with you all you see is his need to please, and his need to be used.

Suddenly your body feels way too hot and you pull off your dress, flinging it somewhere across the room as you continue to ride his tongue. Wooyoung derives pleasure from seeing your body naked for him and he makes that known as he moans into your cunt. The vibrations travel through your core and you almost moan, but you want him to work for it harder before you allow him to hear how good he’s making you feel. You reach behind yourself to grab onto his cock, he’s fully hard now and hot to the touch, and the second you make contact with it he’s moaning into you again. You let him go for a second and he whimpers, wanting nothing more than for you to touch him and make him feel good.

“Do your job right or I won’t touch you again, whore,” you say with a harsh tug to his hair. This seems to light a fire under his ass as he changes your position on the bed. Now he has you lying down, with his face between your thighs and he wastes no time in thrusting two fingers into you.

You can tell he’s desperate for you, he usually never does something without asking for your permission first and you make a mental note to scold him for that later. But for now you’re enjoying the way his fingers curve into your body, rubbing against the spot that has you keening into his touch, unable to stop the low moan escaping from your lips. You can feel the way he smirks against you, no doubt enjoying the fact that he was finally able to elicit a response from you. Honestly, you have half a mind to stop him and just tease him the rest of the night for being such a little shit, but then you wouldn’t get to come, and that’s no fun.

He swipes his tongue along your clit, applying enough pressure that soon has you spasming under him as you reach your peak. He doesn’t stop though, opting to stay attached to your clit and keep his fingers inside of you until you pull at his hair again and slap him across the face. He moans at the action, eyes hooded as his cheek begins to turn pink from the force of the hit.

“You’re such a fucking brat,” you say before getting up from the bed and motioning for him to lay back down. He does what you ask him to and you straddle his thighs, immediately gripping his shaft and just holding your hand there.

He waits in anticipation for you to begin stroking him, but instead you cock your head to the side and give him a shit eating grin, only tightening your hold on him.

“(y/n) please,” he sounds so breathless, how cute.

“Please what?” you taunt.

“Please do something, it hurts,” he whines.

You make a show of leaning over his member and spitting on him, he watches as the spit leaves your mouth and lands on his cock, moaning at the sight. You then begin to rub your thumb along the tip, mixing your spit with the precum that’s already accumulated there. You’re slow with your movement, just teasing his head and not actually doing anything to relieve him. He’s the most sensitive there, so it’s no surprise to you when he starts to buck his hips to try and alleviate the growing pressure he’s feeling. You slap his thigh and shoot him a look.

“Be good,”.

He bites at his bottom lip and grips the sheets, he looks at you with growing desperation as he stills his hips. You finally decide to give him what he wants and begin to stroke his length. His reaction is immediate as he clenches his eyes shut and begins moaning for you. You’ve always appreciated how vocal he gets, never holding back on letting you know how good you make him feel. The muscles in his abdomen start to clench the faster you stroke him. The way he fists the sheets has his knuckles turning white as his moans get louder and more desperate.

Right when you know he’s about to come, you let go of him, causing his eyes to fly open. He looks at you in both shock and confusion but you only give him a sly smile in response. He opens his mouth to speak until you move yourself from his thighs and onto his lap. You rub yourself along his length, getting his dick wet with your arousal. He closes his eyes again, anticipating when you’ll let him inside of you.

You grab his face harshly, fingers digging into either side of his cheek. You’re sure that once you let him go you’ll see the indents of your nails on his face. He, of course, moans at the pain.

“Who do you belong to?”

He doesn’t even hesitate in his reply, “you,”.

“Say it again. Use a full sentence you stupid slut,”.

“I belong to you. I belong to only you,”.

You let go of his face and reach below yourself to grab him and guide him inside of you, sinking onto him slowly. He lets out a broken moan, still incredibly sensitive from the orgasm you denied him of. When you move your hips you set a slow pace, gradually increasing while his hands leave the sheets to rest on your waist. He watches your movements with hazy eyes before angling his hips upwards and reaching deeper within you. It causes you to lurch forward, both hands landing on his chest before you bring one to attach at his throat.

Before long he’s the one controlling the speed, fucking up into you like a man crazed as you tighten your hand around his throat. The breathless moans he lets out and the desperate way he looks is enough to get you to your second orgasm of the night, white hot pleasure ripping through you as your walls contract around him.

“Oh fuck,” he rasps out, overwhelmed by how tight you are. He follows behind you soon after, riding out his orgasm by continuing to thrust into you, making a complete mess of both you and him.

You allow him all but five seconds of bliss before you slap him across the face. The hit isn’t nearly as hard as the first time, but it’s enough to get his attention as he stares at you with wide eyes.

“Did I tell you to come?” He at least has the wherewithal to look sheepish.

“I-” he tries to start until you cut him off.

“Did I. Tell you. To come?”

He shakes his head and offers you a small sounding no.

“Oh Woo, it looks like we’re in for a very long night, hmm?”

And although he knows he’s in for a night of denied orgasms there still exists the excited gleam to his eye, one he can’t seem to hide as he gives you a wide smile.

You’ll be sure to wipe that smile off his face well before the sun comes up.

More A/N: Hi! So I hope you enjoyed this. If you liked this fic then maybe check out this other one I’ve written here (or maybe even this one). But if those don’t tickle your fancy then feel free to take a look at my masterlist here. I do have a tag list so let me know if you’d like to be added onto that! Okay cool bye!!

[chayscribbles-archive]

2021 ✨ chay’s writing year in review

well! 2021 certainly has been one of the years i’ve experienced. but besides *gestures vaguely* everything, 2021 unexpectedly turned out to be a breakthrough year for me in writing.

☆ STATISTICS.

total words written: 168 623

monthly word average: 14 052

projects worked on: the Andromeda trilogy, some other side stuff i didn’t get too invested in, and, uh, yeah it’s pretty much been AR brainrot all year

☆ HIGHLIGHTS.

finishing 2 drafts

writing like 20 fluffy, purely self-indulgent drabbles for like a month

(this one is my favourite)

i wrote a space shanty back in april??? ngl i almost forgot about that. it feels like ages ago

☆ A FEW COMMENTS.

after a drought of about 5 years where i was in perpetual unfinished project hell, the fact that i finished something is still so wild to me, let alone TWO somethings. and to think what it took for me to unblock was throwing my characters into space and being as self-indulgent about it as possible.

i’ve also finally accepted that i am truly a plantser at heart. i USED to be a plantser back before reading writing advice posts and getting caught up in trying to be a planner and worrying about every little detail of the story that by the time i was actually writing i just wasn’t having fun discovering my story. and as my characters often surprise me as i’m writing and sabotage my outline (not naming names, AZAMI BLACK-MIZUHARA), having no rigid outline for them to sabotage in the first place gave me at least an illusion of control over them.

actually, THE thing that i would consider the secret to my success this year is to allow myself to NOT write. especially with a relatively new job to stress me out, i couldn’t afford to burn myself out by forcing myself to write every day. maybe 2016!Chay could pound out a 40K novella in a month but 2021!Chay needed new ways to work.

i compiled some little spreadsheets and graphs to track my writing process. my daily average for AR1 was 453 words and 420 words (nice) for AR2, spread over about 5 and a half months for each draft. i very rarely wrote more than 1000 words in one day, and there were MANY days where i would just not write at all. sometimes i wouldn’t write for days on end, and it was hard, feeling like i HAD to be writing, being scared maybe this was it and i wouldn’t be able to write ever again, but knowing i needed to be resting. those rough patches always ended eventually and my writing was better off for it.

what i’m trying to say is, once i figured out what worked for ME, my writing flourished.

☆ 2022 GOALS.

i am SO tempted to be like “to finish AR3′s first draft” but i’m not gonna put that kind of pressure on myself.

my goal for the next year is just to continue working at my own pace and being patient with myself. if it takes ten years to finish AR3, so be it. it’ll be better than if i crash and burn trying to finish it all at once.

that being said i’m gonna start writing AR3 tomorrow because new year new draft and i have nearly nothing planned for it so far besides self-indulgence so wish me luck!!!!!

☆ IN CONCLUSION.

i want to thank everyone who’s been following my writing journey this year, who has read and reblogged my stuff and left nice comments, who has helped me untangle the knots in my plot or witnessed my many crises and breakdowns on discord and encouraged me through it all. not to be a cliche but i seriously wouldn’t have been able to do it all without you. i wish you all the very best in this upcoming year 💕

below, have those sexy graphs i was talking about, because i’m a slut for graphs and i couldn’t resist showing them off.

AR1:

notice the dip in activity in february when i was working on FinnPetra Fluff February. and also that one tall bar on very last day when i went absolutely ham LMAO

AR2:

i feel like for this one i was wildly swinging between “writing a shitton in one day” and “haven’t written in a week”. consistency? never heard of her.

☆ GENERAL TAGLIST. ask to be +/-.

@metanoiamorii​ @unleashing-screamingtemporaldoom @radiomacbeth​ @tragedieds​ @stardustspiral​ @summere21​ @dutifullyloudmilkshake​ @spencers-tomes @avi-why​ @pulitzers-world @jadeywrites​ @hopeeternia​ @stormharbors​ @dgwriteblr​ @extra-magichours​ @cilly-the-writer​ @yuekki​ @catgirlnya​ @the-orangeauthor​ @cecilsstorycorner​ @savonigo @little-boats-on-a-lake​ @athensthebandit​ @quilloftheclouds​ @alicewestwater​ @chaotic-queer-disaster​

[waithyuck]

smile

***part of the nct almost collab by @hyucksie***

pairing: zhong chenle x reader (f)

genre: ANGST, a single grain of fluff

word count: 7k

warnings: swearing, depictions of depression, overall sadness, frustration/anger, the reader is sort of obsessed with chenle, heartbreak, descriptions of a panic attack + anxiety, chenle becomes an ass :/, forced kissing, hyuck is a good friend :)

a/n: my piece for the ALMOST collab! I hope you all enjoy this mess of feelings 🥴 idk if this is actually good or not but I think I’m happy with the way it turned out ??? idk anyway enjoy lmao

———

Ever since you could remember, you’ve had a crush on Chenle.

Literally ever since you could remember, considering he’s been in your life since you were five years old.

Classic boy next door trope, you could say.

You attended the same school and even shared classes together throughout your elementary and middle school years. High school obviously had a lot more freedom, giving you the opportunity to pick and choose classes that suited your interests. naturally, that pulled the two of you apart in a certain sense.

You could recall one instance in the very beginning of your freshman year where you caught Chenle and some random girl kissing behind the bleachers. It tore you apart inside, so young a fragile at the time, but you threw on a smile like you always tended to do, and let out a quick and airy apology before running off into the safety of Donghyuck’s arms.

Nonetheless, you and Chenle were pretty damn close; kind of like those best friends you see in books or stories...except that in fiction they usually end up together, and you and Chenle, well...haven’t yet.

You still had hope though, that maybe he felt the same way you did for him. You held onto that hope and cherished it, considering it was the only reason you could get up and face the world on most days.

Yeah, you knew it was pathetic. at least you could acknowledge the fact that relying on feelings from a boy you liked was incredibly stupid, but hey, you had the brain of a senior in high school.

Anyway, you and Chenle were very friendly toward each other, and of course you would talk to each other out your individual windows sometimes late at night, but it wasn’t like those stories people read online. You were simply really good friends; nothing like brother and sister, but certainly not anything more than just friends.

You’d say you probably know more about Chenle than most; besides your shared friends Donghyuck (who was already in university, and your closest friend next to Chenle) and Jisung (who was just a tad bit younger and too shy to really hold a conversation with you). You paid close attention to him because, well, who doesn’t want to know everything about the person they’re crushing on?

Even so, it was definitely a given that Chenle was extremely passionate about his schoolwork and his future career. This kid wanted to be the ‘best lawyer the world has ever seen’, according to himself. You were always supportive of him, egging him on when the workload got to him and assuring him that everything would be okay in the end, even when he was exhausted from all his extracurricular activities and volunteering. Chenle seriously seemed like he would work himself to death.

You never really fully processed what him being passionate about his future would mean for you, and how it would affect your relationship and friendship with him. You didn’t even know that he applied to universities at all (since he didn’t tell you and you were kind of oblivious, to be honest), let alone which ones he strived for.

Fast forward to the present, it was currently the middle of November and school was going full swing, your senior year of high school passing by like a breeze. You were currently hanging out with Donghyuck, who was in town for the weekend from his university in the next city over. It was always nice to see him, his presence always putting a smile on your face.

You both sat at a window seat in the middle of a fairly busy restaurant, joking with each other and picking at your food lightly as you conversed. It grew silent for a moment, your chuckles dying down from some stupid attempt at a joke by Hyuck, before he broke it.

“Did you hear that Chenle got into Harvard?” Donghyuck absentmindedly spoke quietly, picking at the salad seated in front of him on the restaurant table. “Full fucking ride.” He didn’t even look up to meet your now bulging eyes.

Your blood ran ice cold as your heart began to seemingly stop beating, freezing just like your veins.

“He what?” you practically screeched, causing the boy across from you to jump slightly.

Hyuck looked at you then, his cheeks filled with food as he grasped his chest dramatically.

“Uh yeah?” he replied like it was obvious. “He’s really passionate about his career choice, you know.”

“Of course I know!” you shrieked at him, your hands going up to pull at your hair exasperatedly. You chewed your lip, your heart pounding and squeezing in your chest at the notion of Chenle’s inevitable departure from your life. “What, you think I wouldn’t know that the boy I’ve known since I was a LITERAL CHILD, isn’t passionate about his future?!”

Donghyuck was now looking around the both of you, taking notice of the strangers who were now staring at your visibly panicked form.

“Y/N, calm down, please–“

“I’m calm! I’m perfectly fine! ahah,” you chewed on your nails frantically as you tried to quiet your mouth and your mind, your leg shaking nonstop under the table, causing the silverware to shake.

You distracted yourself by looking out the window to your immediate left, trying to watch the people walk by like it was some sort of therapy for your bustling thoughts.

“Why didn’t he tell us he was applying to–“ you cut yourself off quietly, stopping your question short. ”...How does he know already?” you asked, your voice small.

“Early action or some shit, I guess.”

It was quiet for a few minutes between you both; Hyuck continued to munch on his salad and you could feel his eye warily watching you as you chewed your nails to nubs.

“...Are you okay?” he finally questioned, his voice comforting as he pulled you from out of your own head.

“Just,” you bit your lip, your eyes spaced out as you stared down at the floor. “Why couldn’t he have picked a school around here?” Your voice was small and quiet, and you could hear the boy across from you sigh. “Why couldn’t he just do that, like you?”

He didn’t really say anything then, picking up the fact that those were most definitely rhetorical questions. You didn’t touch any more of your food, your stomach tied up in knots, making you feel sick.

“Y/N...”

You didn’t look at him, your face hot with embarrassment from how much pain your heart was actually feeling at the news that Chenle, the boy you have loved for years, would be leaving you.

“He’s really excited about this...you…” he trailed off, trying to pick his next words carefully. “You need to show him some support, even though I know it hurts you.”

You knew that deep down, Hyuck was absolutely right. What kind of friend would you be if you were selfish and kept yourself wrapped up in your own feelings? You sniffled and picked your head back up, finally looking at him.

“You’re right. you are absolutely right.” you finally breathed out, trying to slowly calm your aching anxiety. “Just like always, Hyuck.” You cracked a slight smile then, and he returned it, seeming relieved that you snapped out of your panic, even if it was just a little bit.

“At least you can acknowledge it, angel.” He sent you a wink along with the pet name, and you jokingly gagged, which caused the both of you to laugh.

With the mood seemingly lifted, you were able to enjoy the rest of your time with Donghyuck, even if the anxiety of Chenle leaving was still a heavy presence in the back of your reeling mind.

——

That same night, you laid yourself across your pillows and stared up at the ceiling, not even bothering to change out of your slightly uncomfortable jeans. The lights were on and all was quiet as you laid trapped in your own thoughts, the inevitable scene of your crush of many, many years leaving replaying on loop inside your head.

You tried to distract yourself by working on some miscellaneous homework assignments, trying to get your work done as quickly and efficiently as possible.

You were just getting in the flow of writing a rough draft for an essay when you heard your mother yell up the steps at you.

“Y/N!” she called, startling you. when you replied with a ‘Yeah?’ she continued, “Chenle is here, I’m sending him up!”

Your heart jumped and you quickly shot up from your bed, trying to get rid of any clothes strewn around your floor to at least make your room somewhat presentable. As you slammed the hamper lid shut, you heard a small knock on the door before Chenle let himself in, already beaming at you.

“Y/N, I have some awesome news!” he immediately spoke, shutting the door behind him. You will yourself not to let your heart sink, already knowing what he wanted to share with you he reached behind him to grab his book bag, and once it was in his grasp he set it on the floor, taking a seat beside you on your bed.

You tried not to let your heart race as his shoulder brushed against yours, and you tried to convert up your nerves by giving him a smile in return. Chenle rummaged through his back before angrily grunting, turning to face you.

“I left something at home that I wanted to show you, shit,” he murmured, his hand coming up to swipe over his face. “I can go grab it real quick–“

“Let’s just go to your room, it’s literally right across. We can climb,” you suggested, wanting to escape the suffocating warmth of your own bedroom. Plus, you were always more comfortable sitting on his mattress anyway. “It’ll be fun, like when we were younger.”

You two both grinned at each other then, Chenle nodding his head in compliance as you both stood, preparing yourselves for the leap out of your bedroom window.

You didn’t bother with a jacket; you were only going to be out in the cold for about five minutes tops, anyway. You allowed him to go first, his body jumping out and landing on the roof of your shed with ease. You quickly followed suit, landing a little rough but still in one piece, nonetheless.

He generously offered to prop you up first so you could skillfully open his window from the outside, which you gladly accepted with a smirk on your lips.

“You’re the best at it.” he replied, slightly whining at your smug reaction. “Always have been. For some reason I can never get it open!!”

You ignored him after that, focusing on keeping your balance on his shoulders while you lifted the window open, pulling yourself up on the sill and throwing yourself inside with a dull thud. You heard the scrapings of Chenle making his way up the side of his house, and he toppled in not long after you.

“I’m definitely never doing that again,” he panted, laying flat on his back on the floor for a few moments. You stared back at him from his bed, giggling at his heavily rising and falling chest. “Maybe not never...but not again anytime soon, that’s for sure.”

He managed to pull himself up from the carpet, dusting off his pants and shrugging off his coat before joining you on the bed. He pulled a piece of paper from his nightstand, and your heart began to pound with untamed anxiety.

“This,” he started, his eyes sparkling as he looked at the piece of paper before looking back at you. “is my acceptance letter to Harvard. I got in, Y/N!!!”

Chenle was so excited, and you couldn’t help but swoon at the absolute elation in his eyes as he went on about what he was accepted for and even what the letter said.

You, of course, didn’t tell him that you already knew, courtesy of Donghyuck. If you would have known that Chenle applied to Harvard, you would have had no doubts from the very beginning that he would get in.

Maybe he didn’t tell anyone just in case he wasn’t accepted, and if no one knew then there would be no one to disappoint.

You knew that no matter what, you could never ever be disappointed in Chenle. He was too smart and too good to ever be thought of in that way.

All you could do was smile and smile some more as he went on, barely breathing before he finally took a short pause. His eyes fell down to look at his denim covered legs, and he bit his lip as you watched him in the sudden quiet of his room.

It didn’t last very long, and he took a deep breath before breaking the short silence.

“They want me to fly out there as soon as possible,” he finally spoke, looking up at you from where his gaze was previously on his lap. “I talked to our school, and they’re willing to let me graduate early. I have all my credits, which is really cool.”

Chenle seemed excited, but he spoke softly, as if he knew how hard this news was for you to hear. You surprised yourself at how composed you were acting, despite the jabbing pain you felt in your heart with every word that passed through his lips.

“That’s great,” you commented, a tight smile lining your face, your voice so close to breaking. “When do you leave?”

A question you didn’t really want the answer to. You didn’t want him to leave at all, and gaining the knowledge of a deadline wouldn’t ease your aching heart any.

He shuffled on the bed, pulling his legs up to sit fully on the mattress facing you. He clasped his hands together and sighed, his bleached blonde hair falling into his eyes.

“The end of December, right before new years,” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, his eyes trying to gauge your reaction, even though you weren’t really giving him anything to work with.

That was really soon…

“Wait, but that’s before our semester ends—“

“I know.” he cut you off, smiling brightly. “Like I said, the school is alright with this all happening. They’re really happy for me.”

You sighed, nodding in understanding. It was silent for a moment once more between the two of you; only the sounds of distant cars driving down the otherwise quiet street could be heard for a few moments.

“I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you too, Chenle.” you softly spoke, your hand reaching out to boldly cover his own sitting on the bed in front of you. He stared down at your now touching fingers, but didn’t move to pull away from your warmth.

“Thank you,” he smiled, surprising you by taking your hand in his own and squeezing it, taking your contact with each other a step further. “It means a lot coming from you.”

“Does my approval matter to you?” you questioned, not able to keep it from slipping past your lips. His eyebrows quirked up and he tilted his head a little, looking away briefly before making eye contact once again.

“Yeah, I guess it does.” he replied. “I never really thought about it before, but now that you brought it up...it really does, so thank you.”

You stared at each other then, your lips parted and dry, your brain not sure what to say to him in response. Your heart was hammering in your chest and your ears were consumed with the rhythmic beating and blood rushing happening within your own body.

His brown eyes and dyed blonde hair captivated you and your tongue felt like sandpaper inside your mouth. he looked like he was fighting with himself in a way; restricting his body from moving closer to your own as you sat there in the silence of his room. Your body seemed to mechanically move on its own as it scooted closer to him, your fingers tightening around his as you situated yourself against his body, your face now just next to his. His eyes flicked down to your lips before moving back to your wide eyes, and you felt your stomach jump in anticipation.

Before either of you could do anything, a loud bang came from outside of his bedroom door, followed by a yell from his mother.

You sprung away from each other and you immediately shot up from his bed, already sprinting to his open window from which you came in from. Chenle stood as well, looking between you and the locked door that held his mother back.

“I’ll see you at school.” you hurriedly whispered, taking one more glance at his red cheeks before leaping out the window and down onto the grass below.

You climbed your way up to your own open bedroom window, using the shed and throwing yourself inside quickly before shutting it and closing the curtains. Once you were sure everything was locked and the lights were all off, you slammed yourself down onto your mattress, shoved your face into your pillows, and screamed.

——

“Can we go for a walk around the neighborhood? I want to see all the Christmas lights before people start taking them down.” Chenle spoke through the speaker on your phone, his face not in view on the screen as you FaceTimed each other. You heard shuffling on his end as you focused your attention on your laptop screen, mindlessly shopping online for random things to keep your mind off of the fact that Chenle was leaving in just three days.

The few weeks you had with him passed by like a blur, and you both tried to spend as much time together as possible. Between having to spend time with your family and other friends, it wasn’t as much as you would have liked it to have been.

“Yeah, sure.” you mumbled, closing the laptop on your bed with a soft clack. “Meet you outside in fifteen?”

“Make it ten.” he replied with a smile in his voice, before hanging up.

You sighed heavily before putting your coat on, bundling yourself up for the bite of the cold outside. It was bitterly freezing, and you knew without your whole winter ensemble that you wouldn’t be able to feel your fingers within two seconds flat of being out there.

Fumbling with the buttons and zipper on your coat, you managed to make it outside in seven minutes even, meeting him on the sidewalk just down your driveway.

“Wow, not late for once.” he commented, nudging your shoulder as the two of your began to walk in sync down your brightly lit street.

“Knock it off, I can be on time when I try hard enough.” You rolled your eyes playfully at him, a hint of a smile gracing your lips as you began to take in the beautiful lights around you.

Christmas truly was a beautiful time of year; not just for the holiday itself, because not everyone celebrated it obviously, but for the decorations and the sense of home and warmth.

Chenle and yourself both kept relatively quiet as you walked on, only making noise when you wanted to get each other’s attention to point out certain decorations on some houses. It was rather peaceful, and your heart was swelling with warmth in adoration as you looked to admire his face, which was illuminated by the colorful Christmas lights surrounding you.

Your stomach jolted slightly. This may be the last time you see him for a while. You didn’t mean for the intrusive thought of his absence to wiggle its way into your mind, but it was too late to fight it off.

‘I should just confess’, you thought, now nervously picking at your nails, and chewing your lip to bits. ‘There may not be another chance like this, not for a while.’

It was selfish...but it was now or never.

Too shy to actually confess your feelings first—and thinking back to certain moments that you’ve shared with Chenle to come to this conclusion—you decided to take a different approach.

Get him to confess first.

“I need to ask you something,” you blurted out, your brain scolding your mouth silently for being so goddamn reckless in a moment of weakness.

Maybe this was a bad idea...

Chenle quirked his eyebrow up at you before stopping, turning to face you entirely.

“What’s up?” he replied, his hands stuffed deeply in his pockets in a desperate attempt to keep them warm. His nose was red from the chill in the air and his lips were the same shade from him biting them, the sheen of his chapstick almost completely gone now. His eyes were glassy from the wind blowing and even though his cheeks were blotched in crimson, you thought this was the most beautiful he had ever looked.

You couldn’t do this. Fuck, you really couldn’t do this. Why did you have to open your big, stupid mouth—

“Hey Y/N? Are you in there?” he suddenly broke you from your own thoughts, causing you to jump a little in your boots. “What did you wanna ask me?”

“Uh,” Quick, think of something dumb! “You know, why is perfume so damn expensive?”

You wanted to throw yourself into a frozen lake at this point, as you watched his brow furrow in confusion.

“Uhm, I don’t know,” he bit his lip for about the hundredth time since you started your walk. “Ingredients maybe? Higher end perfumes probably have stuff in them that are more hard to come by, so that’s probably wh—“

“Do you like me?” you interrupted him loudly, squeezing your eyes shut as you practically belted out your original question.

He seemingly froze in front of you, and definitely not from the cold air whipping around your bodies as the wind harshly blew.

“Do I...like you.” he repeated back, formed as a statement more than a question. “Like...as in romantically?”

You didn’t even have to nod for him to know what you meant; the look in your eyes told him enough. The pleading, glassy look as hope swirled beneath your irises, just absolutely begging him to say that yes, he did like you in the way that you liked him.

“Yes,” you confirmed audibly anyway, heat flickering throughout your entire face. “You know, b-because I think before we almost kissed in your room that one time not too long ago, and we’ve been more touchy lately—“ you would have continued on your panicked rambling if he hadn’t cut you off, beginning to speak solemnly.

“Y/N...I..” he started, shaking his head as he tried to get his thoughts straight. “I do. I really do,” your heart jumped at his confession, and you allowed it to spread in your body like wildfire. It didn’t get very far, because he continued to speak. “but I...I can’t.”

You visibly deflated; your heart shattered like glass and everything colorful around you seemed to fade into a greyscale, the holiday lights surrounding the two of you no longer sparking any kind of joy. “This scholarship...my future...it’s important to me. I can’t let anything stop me, I’m so sorry…”

“Chenle...” you whimpered, stepping closer to him boldly, unsure of how to properly express your feelings to him at this point. You dared to breach his personal space, and he watched your every move with those same, glossy brown eyes that you adored every day for so many years.

You tilted your head, your lips ghosting over his own as he let out shaky breaths, yours matching his as you stood together in the cold.

His lips were right there. unmoving, as he didn’t pull away from you. If your leaned forward just a little more...almost….almostalmostalmost—so close—

“Y/N, stop.” he suddenly muttered, pulling you out of your trance. His head drew back as he stepped away, still in your reach but far enough to where your lips weren’t brushing against each other’s anymore.

You gritted your teeth at the rejected feeling that bubbles up inside you, the tears welling your eyes before spilling hotly down your frozen cheeks.

“I love you, Chenle.” you cried, gripping the rough material of his jean jacket. The darkness of the night could have hidden your tears if it weren’t for the moonlight blaring down on the two of you like a spotlight. “Please, I love you.”

He looked like he was trying to hold himself together, his lips set in a straight line as he looked away from you, his hands hovering over your wrists. Chenle gripped them suddenly, not hard, but with enough force to get you to pay attention.

“I love you too, Y/N.” he finally admitted, his voice quiet as he tried to restrain his emotions. “But I can’t pass this up. I just can’t.”

You should have forced yourself to understand. This was his life, for fucks sake. You shouldn’t have let yourself feel selfish, thinking that he would drop everything to stay here. With you.

“We can’t be together. I’m sorry.” he finished with that, slowly dropping your wrists from his hold. “If I…” he swallowed thickly. “If I let you kiss me, I know I wouldn’t be able to leave. I know it.”

He took in your figure at last, watching as your tears fell freely from your eyes in hot rivers down your already stained cheeks.

“Look, maybe someday this would work...but just, not now.” he sounded exasperated, running a hand through his hair. “Your life is here, and my life will be starting there. I’ll be busy constantly and it just...won’t be fair. It really won’t, you have to understand, Y/N.”

He watched as your hands shook when you lifted them to wipe your face, solemnly nodding in acknowledgement to his words.

“Okay.” you croaked, not meeting his eyes as you turned to walk away, leaving him in the middle of the park you used to play at when you were kids.

You weren’t going to put up a fight. You weren’t going to plead with him anymore. You were going to try your absolute hardest to stop yourself from being selfish in that way.

You were just going to have to live with that fact that you couldn’t have him right now. That you almost could have had him.

Almost.

——

Chenle faded out of your life like he wasn’t even present in the first place. You barely heard from him after he left; there would be miscellaneous texts here and there but overall, he was right in the end. He was really always busy.

His school workload was heavy, and you were aware of that, but a selfish part of you always seemed to get angry at him for not responding to you.

The worst part was not knowing whether he wanted to reach out to you at all.

He didn’t come home during summer break, which broke your heart a little bit. Donghyuck tried his best to be there for you as you went through the motions; you were constantly miserable at the reality that you most likely would never call Chenle your own.

Chenle didn’t keep in contact much with Hyuck or Jisung either, seemingly leaving you all in the dust as he went about his new life away from you. His parents talked to him all the time obviously, and your own mother would dawdle on about something that Chenle achieved at school to you, but you’ve come to pretty much ignore everything that had to do with him.

You went about getting your own education, passing your classes by the skin of your teeth during the first semester and then producing the same results during the semester after that.

You really couldn’t blame yourself for feeling so utterly heartbroken; you were in love with that boy for most of your life, and for him to suddenly rip himself away from you like that was wholeheartedly agonizing.

Chenle rarely ever came home; he did briefly for Christmas, but then hurriedly left immediately after, not even staying for the full duration of his break.

You actually ran into him by accident one day while he was still home, but you didn’t stay in his presence very long before wanting to go to the safety of your bedroom and cry.

“Did you even miss me?” you whimpered out, exhausted after your small talk had turned into a bit of an argument. He sighed heavily, frustrated no doubt. you could hear it in his voice as he spoke to you.

“What do you want me say, Y/N?” he countered, scoffing at you as you held back the pain you felt burning behind your eyes, desperate to cry. “I haven’t even had the time to miss anyone, let alone you.”

You stood in silence for a moment, baffled at his dismissive attitude of it all. It’s like he didn’t even remember that he told you he liked you too all those months ago.

“You...” your voice cracked a little, and you looked away from him. “Did you even try, Chenle? Did you even try to find the time to talk to me?”

He didn’t say anything back, only staring at you before tearing his eyes away, his jaw locked. You felt as if you already knew the answer.

You turned to leave, but felt his hand immediately circle around your arm, roughly pulling you back to face him. Taking one look at his face, you knew he was angry.

“Do you know how much it hurt, Y/N?” he barked out, making you flinch back slightly. “Do you know how much it hurt to leave you? I–“ he cut himself off as his voice cracked, turning his head away and swallowing heavily before continuing. “I wanted to, so bad Y/N. You have no idea.”

Your lips parted in shock, and you had a million things you wanted to say, but you managed to keep it all inside as he went on.

“But I had to control myself. I already came to terms with the fact that this,” he gestured between the two of you, “wasn't going to ever work out. I figured that out a long time ago... I had to distance myself from you, I’m sorry.”

You really didn’t want to accept that apology. You really really didn’t. Your anger was swirling inside you, a typhoon of emotions building and building as you stared back into his now cold brown eyes. To you, they used to be so full of warmth and friendliness, and now they looked distant and unentertained, like he didn’t want to be here in the first place.

That hurt like a bitch.

You scoffed at him, making his eyebrows raise in confusion before they furrowed, his eyes narrowed at you.

Yeah, you were probably being a bitch for not accepting his apology, and all of this was turning out to be super petty, but you felt like he deserved it just a little bit.

Deep down you knew he had a point; his reasoning was valid and it all made sense, but when did having feelings for someone like you had for him ever lead to rational decision making?

“You know, Chenle,” you started, shoving your hands in your pockets roughly to shield them from the cold. “I really thought that we could still be friends after all the bullshit, I really did.” He watched you carefully as you practically spat forth those words, venom dripping in your tone. “But then you went and messed it all up.”

You probably shouldn’t have added that last part; playing the blame game never worked in anyone’s favor in the end, but your emotions once again got the best of you.

Smoke practically blew out his ears as his mouth parted in shock. Your heart dropped when you heard the sound of sarcastic laughter falling out of his mouth, knowing full well that you fucked up this time.

“I messed it up? Me??” He was pointing to his own chest for emphasis, and you had the audacity to give him a quick nod. “Ahah, wow Y/N, that’s really rich coming from you.”

You didn’t even have a second to get a word in before he crowded your space, so close that your chests were touching. You drew in a sharp breath, not sure what in the hell he was doing right now.

“You were the one that was practically begging me to kiss you that night, remember? You were trying so hard,” he spat, so close to your face now that you couldn’t even feel the cold nipping at your cheeks anymore (whether it be from the embarrassment lacing through your veins or the extensive heat from his body, you weren’t sure).

You couldn’t think of anything to say in response; all you knew was that he was dishing out pretty low blows, and each word was like a knife being plunged into your chest.

“Like, how desperate are you?” he added in, now moving his hands to grip your waist, making you squeak in surprise. “You want a kiss so bad? Get fucking ready.”

You weren’t sure what he meant and your brain was having such a hard time comprehending anything going on in that moment, the pressure of his hands gripping your waist making all thoughts fly out of your head besides one.

Him.

“Wait, Chenle–“ you placed a hand on his chest to try to push him away, unsure of how you felt about this situation.

“What, you don’t want it now?” his voice was borderline malicious as he spoke to you now, making you feel incredibly small and vulnerable under his gaze.

“No I–“

“You come to me and give me all that bullshit, and now when I’m trying to give you something that you wanted,” his grip grew tighter. “you don’t want it anymore? Make up your damn mind, Y/N.”

You did want it. There was still a huge part of you that screamed at you to just let it happen, but you knew it would be wrong. So fucking wrong. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to; he was doing this because he wanted all this to end right here.

You were scared. He was scaring you with the way he was acting right now.

“Chenle, please—“

“Just shut up.”

Chenle didn’t allow you to get another word in before he crashed his lips against yours, roughly pressing his against your own so abruptly that you felt your teeth pierce the inside of yours. You tasted blood, but it wasn’t the first thing on your mind at the moment; Chenle moved his mouth against yours aggressively and without any emotion besides anger behind it, and you absolutely hated it.

Sure, it felt nice to finally get what you wanted, but in a way, you definitely were not. This isn’t what you wanted at all. You wanted to love him and you wanted him to love you...and you wanted it to feel nice.

His hands slid down to your hips and your stomach jumped in surprise as you tried desperately to match his pace to at least kiss him back a little bit. It didn’t last long, and with a strong push on your hips he effectively pulled away, your body stumbling back from the force of his shove.

His lips were red and puffy and his eyes were dark as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, panting slightly. You probably looked somewhat the same, but didn’t even move from where you stood as he stared at you. You felt your eyes become glassy from staring into space too long, and you felt your hands shake, but most definitely not from the cold.

“There’s your fucking kiss.” He finally said, taking two steps back. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

You didn’t even watch him walk back into his house. You ran as fast as you could back into your own home and immediately slammed the front door shut behind you, darting up the stairs without a single word.

You barged into your bedroom and without even removing your winter garments, you threw yourself down onto your mattress for what seemed like the millionth time in the last year, and began to sob.

——

Chenle’s parents said that he had commitments at the school, some sort of research or whatever, and that’s why he couldn’t stay home long. At the time, all you really thought was ‘good riddance’, but you knew that your heart would be back to obsessing over him in no time, even after what had happened between the two of you on the day you try so hard not to remember.

Well, at least he was flourishing at school.

When Donghyuck found out what had happened between you and Chenle during the time he was home from university, he was ready to kill someone. That someone being Chenle.

“He did what to you?!” Donghyuck screamed over the phone, causing you to pull it from your ear from the sheer volume of his screeching. “I’ll kill him, Y/N. I swear I’ll fucking kill that kid.”

“No need, Hyuckie. It’s not that big of a deal.” you replied somberly, sighing as you relaxed on your mattress against your pillows.

“Not a big deal??? Angel, he basically forced that shit on you,” Hyuck was speaking softly to you now, a stark contrast to his yelling from a few moments prior. “You should be furious at him. You need to tell someone—“

“I’m not mad,” you replied quietly, chewing on your bottom lip. “A part of me wanted that to happen, Hyuck. It just…” your voice trailed off, your brain trying to think of the right words to say. “Wasn’t what I was expecting, is all.”

The line was quiet and you weren’t sure what to say next, and Donghyuck must have felt the same. It was a really fucked up situation, you had to admit.

“I think I…” your voice sounded broken, but you continued. “I think I still love him.” The words came out as a whisper and they surprised even yourself, not expecting to admit such a thing after all that has happened.

“Oh, angel…” was all Donghyuck replied with before you quickly made up some lame excuse to hang up the call with him. You hurriedly pressed the ‘end call’ button and threw yourself back on the bed, spacing out once again just like you always do.

You managed to bear with not seeing or talking to Chenle after the incident (a huge part of you didn’t want to, after hearing what he had to say and also what he did during Christmas break), but when you stumbled across a post of his one night a couple months after while scrolling through Instagram, it had your heart shattering completely.

“What the fuck,” you whimpered, already struggling to hold back tears as your watery eyes stared daggers at the photo displayed on your screen. “What. The. Fuck?” you said it louder this time, with more malice, and you threw your phone across your bed to get it away from you.

Chenle had posted a photo of himself and another girl, kissing each other while snow fell in some random park you didn’t give a fuck about. He found someone else. He fell for someone else.

The hypocrisy.....he didn’t want to be with you because he wanted to focus on school, but then he goes and starts up a relationship with someone else anyway?

Maybe he did it to spite you.

At first, you felt pathetic for crying about it. You tried to muffle your cries in your pillow, holding back the ugly sobs that you so desperately wanted to let out. You silently cried, your heart aching and your lungs gasping for air as you fought the pain in the dark pit inside your chest.

You began to grow angry after a while, your thoughts spinning wildly out of control as your chest heaved, your nails digging into your sheets to keep yourself from clawing at your own burning throat.

You screamed.

You screamed and screamed and cried until there was nothing left inside you. You needed to let out the festering hatred you had grown for him since he left over a year ago. It was ugly and it was cacophonous, but you didn’t care anymore.

Your parents were luckily out, and you didn’t give a fuck about your neighbors. You poured out every raw emotion you felt until you sensed yourself beginning to calm; your chest no longer rose and fell like you had been running a marathon, your heartbeat quieted to a low thrum in your ears instead of a pounding drum, and your muscles relaxed, allowing you to lie down flat against your mattress.

Your pillow was soaked through with tears and your head was thumping, like your brain was smashing a baseball bat to the inside of your skull. You breathed in, five long seconds, and breathed out, seven seconds more, before bathing in the quiet of your room.

Your phoned buzzed from the end of your bed, and you hesitantly picked your head up, sliding to sit and reach for it tentatively.

It was a text message.

From: donghyuckie :P

hey, saw chenle’s post. ice cream in 20? I’ll pick you up

You smiled, surprising yourself entirely, as if you weren’t just screaming your head off just five minutes ago. You were incredibly happy to have such a good friend in your life, immediately knowing what you needed when you needed it. You were quick to reply.

To: donghyuckie :P

sounds good, I’ll see you then :)

You smiled again, and didn’t stop the whole night, Donghyuck's presence always comforting and joyful.

You would be okay, you knew you would. All you had to do was just live your own life, forget about Chenle, and be happy...always with a smile.

[azroazizah]

Have you watched Netflix’s Castlevania show before? Because if you haven’t, I feel like you would really dig it. More importantly, I need your opinion on how ridiculously similar Trevor and Sypha are to Soul and Maka. They have like the exact same relationship dynamic, it’s crazy. Trevor is this broody, cynical, snarky jerk with a heart of gold and he feels kind of crushed under the weight of his family name. *also his family was wealthy and famous* Sypha is this really kindhearted and couragous scholarly/academic type whose also a badass who takes no shit from anyone, and they fight demons/monsters together. They didn’t even like each other at first. She thought he was apathetic and rude and he kind of thought of her as an annoyingly stubborn know-it-all, but they end up growing to love and trust each other. Just look at these dorks and tell me they don’t exude SoMa energy

Like am I wrong?! My brain often tries to connect stuff I’m watching to SoMa in some way, but I feel like this one is actually justified. I kinda feel really compelled to write a Soul Eater Castlevania au sometime. Also: I’m stoked to see whatever project your working on that you previewed when you posted those screensavers of Soul drowning. It looked really neat.

Oooooh I've heard about Castlevania before but I haven't gotten the chance to see it, as I'm currently too overwhelmed with irl things to start a heavy series

But so far I'm liking the premise, and I'm a total slut for the dark fantasy genre so I really 👀 at this series. Would put it on the list tho, it seems interesting and daaaaaaaamn that artstyle had me weakkkkk

And dude this sounds like a rad AU material too

Also: thank youuuu ❤❤❤ and for a spoiler on that project: it's an animatic of a sort. a video. a PV. whatever it's called lmao. I've uploaded bits of it here tbh. I'm planning to post the full video on valentine day?

These are some parts I've uploaded here:

Also, bonus on rough first draft:

I've been working on it since last year so yea forgive the dirty paper wwww ^^ please look forward to it and thank you for your recommendation!

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 20.1)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

DOUBLE UPDATE FOR A WEEK Y’ALL! MWAH MWAH! PLEASE DO LEAVE A FEEDBACK BEFORE YOU GO---OR MAYBE A REBLOG WILL BE NICE FOR MY EFFORT. Hehehe. Thank y’all!

CHAPTER 20

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Sometimes other people's stories were actually not just a tale of fantasies when the protagonist in the story can't even give you an answer to soothe your insecurity, curiosity and fear over being alone in a dimension you didn't belong in.

Warnings: Soft, touchy and caring Geralt. Insecure and anxious reader. Brooding witcher. Baths with the witcher? Mention of Yennefer. Nudity. Angst. Geralt being too blunt and saying...things. Heh. Don't hate him later please? 😥😘 Mention of Parallel Universe. Doppelganger. Ingrith is just a character I made up, alright? she ain't a part of Yennefer's story in the games, books or show. 

Words: 7.6k

A/N: So, Yeap. I wanted to leave ya with all these angst. Hehehe. COMMENTS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED! MWAH! *waits for comments about people cursing Geralt lmao 😂😂* @casualfansoul​​ You’ve been such a sweetheart! BELATED HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SWEETIE! I hope you’ll love this chapter dedicated to you! Mwah! 

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

"Will you tell me why you are utterly cranky all of a sudden?"

Face to face with the rim of the wooden bath, you've had your knotted brows in a twist. Pout oh-so-long that Geralt knew as he sat behind you, seeking answers for your upset state. He'd gotten you out of your clothes; forcefully must you say. Earning a glare from him as he was peeling your clothes away like he was caring for his sick, pouty child.

No complaints were accepted as he'd given you the idea to care for your wounds in the tub. Downright secretive about wanting to feel the comfort of your nudity grazing against his without any monkey business going on.

The witcher has received constant grumbles and whines of protests as he poured the potent medicine that evaporated through the fresh wounds; painful enough for you to shriek while his arm surrounding your waist tightened with every whimper of your sobbing self; shushing your cries with a soft coo of his endearment on your ear and the feathery nuzzle of his nose against that tiny spot behind your ear while he soothes your pains.

They've fully had injured your back with more than just wallops. He'd knew by the looks of the lesions, the people in the castle has even burnt your skin with metal; scorching metal that has given you scars that would forever haunt oneself. The mere thought tormenting him by their brutal punishments; keeping him all in wonder when he has never received any violent retorts and schemes from you as they did everything in their willpower to strike a hand. Your submission making the witcher glower behind as Geralt caught sight of such deep wounds whilst taking off the gauze; seeing blood seeping out of the healing skin as it was a sign that he really and badly needed to treat your body.

Sobs were emitted while he watched your wounds dry from the potion he'd mix, receiving kisses on the cold, sweating nape of yours every now and then. A gesture that Geralt started doing when you were shrieking in the midst of being poured by such elixir while you felt his breath on your skin. Sweetly kissing through your pain and lowly humming that you were going to be okay and you've been good.

It felt like all the energy downed on you after he'd stop and was done pouring the elixir everywhere around your body. The warm water lining on your chest turned colder when you've slowly leaned your back on Geralt, hissing from the soreness but actually ending up loving the warmth that he could only give while he kept his burly arm around you, your lips still in a pout while staring at the bed from the far corner of the room; basking in the witcher's silence before he asked.

His question gotten you unready for an honest answer as he bluntly shot the query out, planning to resolve the problem with you in the best way that he thought. Being forthright.

"Hmm." you hummed back in displeasure, sounding exactly the same like how he does.

The corner of his lips lifted in a small smirk, his voice vibrating at the back of your head and against his chest. The buzz keeping you calm and at ease rather than being alone in the castle when he haven't arrived yet. Your anxiety giving you such trauma that made you want to sob again.

But, Geralt's distraction to stifle your cries has technically been useful when he felt you sigh again, watching your face from above and behind to see a frown etching to grow. He heedlessly fetched a cup of water with the palm of his hand, delicately pouring your cheek with water as he gruffly quipped.

"That's my line. Not yours, Midget."

Geralt repeated his gestures with you, lightly damping your hair with water as he gently brushed your tousled wet hair with the spaces of his fingers, keeping them light and comforting which made you lean back a lot more, accepting his gentleness after being physically whacked in harsh moments prior before he came around---your purpose of being upset has now been forgotten by his unfamiliar gestures that was tickling your spine with ants racing on your skin because of how his actions was giving you cavity. A sweet tooth.

Just being held so softly felt good in real life---you didn't know how comforting it feels even back in earth, but right now was just the right time to feel how you would yearn for it when Geralt wouldn't be around.

"I told you, before I even realized that you were important to me was after you've made a wish to the Djinn."

Your swollen cheek fell on the skin of his biceps; sighing while you stared out of nowhere and finally held onto his arm surrounding your waist, keeping you still and steady in his arms. His nudity becoming not much of a problem for you now because it was an experience that you could never forget; eventually having the privilege in familiarizing his body just like how a lover does while he did the same to you.

Though, his imperfect beauty could still get you blushing nevertheless as he liked seeing yours no matter how insecure you get---but he seemed to admire your nakedness a lot which he received with a 'men versus boobs' explanation that his kind of gender would always love the idea of breasts no matter how big or small as the same goes for a vagina.

You'd received a pleased hum after that and also some horny witcher begging and trying his best to get your clothes off in his sneaky techniques.

"I know. I'm sorry I was cranky, Geralt."

The white wet-haired witcher pursed his lips, looking down at your face as you've felt his gaze heavy while he calmly spoke.

"It's...alright. But, must it be for Eanraig to see and hear?"

You've given him another sincere, sweet and soft apology. Caressing your thumb over the top of his scarred hand which was under the waters and he'd let you graze over the tiniest marks on his fingers and palms, swaying under the bath water. Breathing calm and collected while he stayed in bath with you; cherishing such moment again that could get his chest feeling the lightest out of all the times he lived in the continent; more freeing to than the one he had with a particular sorceress whom he had also been connected with; via Djinn.

His free hand lifted away from leaning onto the edge of the tub, reaching down to sweep your hair to the side. Clearing the space on your neck and such wounds from the shoulder blades, others being a scar from his potent medicine that he has poured.

"I remembered your skin clearly in the back of my head. Thoroughly silk like a bairn's bum,"

He paused, prolonging the silence as he gently danced his fingers on the skin of your shoulders; too tender that it began to lick your spine, igniting the tiniest shiver when you've felt the soft, warm feathery feeling of his lips giving your painted shoulder a peck of his specific comfort that he only gives to people who have turned his world a much better place than how much of a hell it has been.

"Now, you are scarred." Geralt grumbled against your skin, giving one last kiss and making everything all worth while as he was still around. Continuously denouncing what they've done to his family---even beating Jaskier to pulp.

"---They've...turned you like me,"

You've slightly turned your head to see his amber eyes withdrawn from reality. Thoughts probably plaguing his mind while he scowled. A simple purse of your lips, suggesting to receive a small, quick buss has Geralt dipping his head down to sweetly smack your lips to his, letting him feel that you were there; finally there with him physically and he didn't need to worry.

Thus, it was just like that. Geralt and his presence, including such soft gestures that you rarely receive nor see that he does for anyone and a soundly kiss has let the upset feelings go away, simply just like that.

Even though, he has never confessed any love yet---this was forging you both to understand what connection you have for each other. Though, clearly unspecific and undistinguished. Or was this his type of love? a love never needed to be told for it can be felt?

The question here, does he even love you? was this love?

Partially turning around in his arms to see him gazing back at you, Geralt seemed to be nonplussed and introverted with his thoughts. Keeping words to himself while he was giving you a solemn frown of his face, examining your swollen eye that you tried pulling him out of his regret and blames with a quirky tone of your voice; sounding like nothing has happened to you nor have you been battered to bruising limbs.

"When are you going to leave?"

"After I take care of you, midget." he deeply murmured, watching you like a hawk with golden eyes as the candle light was making his eyes glow prettier than usual. You grabbed a handful amount of water with your palms, arms sore as you reached up to pour water on his face that surely gotten a deep, complain of his humming when it made him close his eyes from the uninvited rainfalls of liquid.

The fading colored grime has been softly scrubbed off by the pad of your damp thumbs over the apples of his cheeks. His gaze was utmost heavy, shooting you a warm, loving sensation on your chest; surrounding the fading Cicatrix that somehow turned insipid after the nights before with the witcher.

You couldn't help but notice his grouching and grumpy self as he scanned your face with an affectionate flicker in his amber that made you tut. The gentleness you were giving was a thorough unfamiliar feeling he always received from you despite of your negative characteristics---though, he doesn't mind it at all---sometimes, he does but that was beyond the point when he felt comfort from you and aspire to give it back despite of not knowing what and how comfort is to a witcher.

"Stop being such a wild cat---Let me guess, you haven't gotten to have your nap again?"

Geralt huffed out a breath of complaint. A short, low growl that made you giggle quickly when you wiped his face with your fingers; playfully glaring at how you were bathing him.

"When did I ever?"

"It seems like you haven't had it last night again---Stop scowling like you want to strangle me," you lightly poked the dimples of his nose that got him deeply growling his protests. His expressions completely emotionless as he turned his face to avoid your play-time; considering on biting your fingers off to stop annoying the heck out of him.

Howbeit, Geralt went on in silently letting you touch his face. Mesmerized by how his scars really never affected his beauty and probably added perfection over his gorgeousness. The witcher mutely let you trace the bridge of his nose and the scars on his face whilst intently staring at your face in return.

"---Until you came along," he surprisingly continued the topic, never breaking his gaze as he'd seen you lean closer to his face. The tangy scent he was familiar in recognizing from you, mixing with the medicine on your skin. Yet, it didn't stop him to wait for what you had in mind. Your bruised, healing lips brushing against his that made both of your chests tingly for over such sweet intimacy that you've both eventually become accustomed with.

Geralt pursed his lips for your thirsts to calm down; such desperate feeling that both parties yearned for. A twee, syrupy connection of your lips on his---a kiss that made warmth spread through you like an angel's halo trying to make you holy and worth for his affections.

Men in your world will certainly not impress you anymore. Geralt of Rivia has raised the bars of what men should be---he'd ruined the normality of what you expected from such gender because you believed that they may not reach the level of what you've felt for him.

Love as you may see now.

But, it can be quite blurry of a picture for a future that you do not hold or knew how it'll be for the both of you because you've teleported as a miracle that nobody expected to receive.

"If I---If I die---" your pessimist self started to run your mouth over Geralt. Yet, he was quick to cut you off with a sullen chide and an avoidance of your gaze with a grumpy sigh.

"Stop. Don't." he groused with the mouth ends pulled down, "---You're not going to die,"

"What if I do?"

His eyes turned penetrating as if he wanted to tell how much you are wrong about that argument. Those cat-eyes of his; sharp and making a stand for the idea he didn't want to accept.

"I will never let that happen. They can have me hunt down whatever they want, even slice a throat of a nobleman or a monster but I will never let anything happen to you,"

The witcher gently scooped water with a palm of his hand, pouring them over your face. Coming forth with a scrub of it as he shoved his large palm that made you shriek against his hold while he lightly scoured your face as a gesture to clean you more inside the bath; avoiding your healing bruises.

"---I don't want to hear that again while I give you a bath,"

Darkness suddenly turned into seeing Geralt's stony stare after being suffocated by his hand that was suddenly shoved on your face, "I'm sorry," you immediately tried to woo over his vexation, your face wet from the bath water he tried to rinse you in, an involuntary response of your arms slipping around his bare waist shocked your consciousness because of how touchy-feely you've become around him.

The latter welcomed your apology and touches, humming in appeasement for your quick sorry; knowing your way with him and reading that he could not tolerate such physical-contact from you without liking the feel of your skin, you've leaned your body more to him---your naked chests flushed together that got him curling his lips in a small smile whilst feeling your forehead fall on the side of his neck, nuzzling with an apology.

"I-I didn't mean to upset you,"

Quietude embraced you both. Sitting in a tub. Entirely bare for each other to see but it was so wholesome for the betterment of your relationship with him; nurturing what understanding you both have for each other, not entirely specific nor knowing what it is. As a matter of fact, you do know what you felt for him, but not the other way around.

"She..She isn't a queen in my world,"

Bamboozle screamed inside his eyes for your statement, his fingers gliding along the small of your back under the waters as he hummed in curiosity.

"Hmm?"

You've remember the time that the queen has visited your cell. Retched between the hatch of the door came in view was your kind boss who wore the finest set of golden, silk, long gown with rich trimmings. She stopped by to check on your victimized state with a glaze of ignorance in her eyes. She didn't care for your condition because if so, she wouldn't have left the slammer with a quiet scoff.

Out of all the people who could turn out evil was a queen in Geralt's world and a boss you've highly given respect to.

Nonetheless, in this world; it seemed to be like the opposite personalities of how people had been in your world.

"Your queen. Queen Makeda. She's named Angela Cincinnati. The boss of mine who also works in the pizza parlor that I'm in,"

Geralt has leaned back on the edge of the tub in a relaxed posture, lifting his other hand every now and then to pour water on your hair that tickled your insides because of how cold the water has been already. His warmth being your therapy while thinking such hypothetical answers for what mysteries that the continent has been giving you. Jotting down possibilities that a typical earthling could try to guess like they were watching a very interesting movie.

"Does this mean I have someone who looks like me in this world too?" pause. "---Does she have a better life than me?"

Your witcher cocked his head to the side as he was in deep thought over the woman who looked like you. His mouth opening and closing for whatever shit he wanted to say because Savia has been the person who ruined your future by creating such crimes being pointed at you because you looked like her twin.

"Worse. I can say that you had a better life than her and also complicated yours at the same time," he gravely informed.

"My doppelganger then? have you already seen her?"

"Will you try to find her if I say yes?"

"No. I...don't wanna scare her with this drama movie I'm in."

You've leaned away from Geralt and his consoling cuddles, trying hard to rip your body away from him when all you wanted was to bask in his own embrace. Splashing your face with more bath water, he'd given you a curious glint of his eyes. Fixating his gaze on your bare form, subtly sliding his focus on the depths of your neck and wanting nothing more than to give more sweet busses of care. Geralt ignored the modern reference you've muttered about being in a movie and found it more interesting to appreciate the nudity you've freely have been giving him.

It's not like you were naked all the time. The witcher snickered to himself; appreciating the best view of you that he can ever get.

"The water's cold now. Are we done?" you softly whispered, the thought of your doppelganger out there; like a twin from another mother and dimension that you didn't expect to have. It was interesting to know, but frightening to actually see the real her because people like your doppelganger who lived in the medieval era might not be a great sight for the woman.

Geralt grabbed onto the end of the tub, whisking a thin, Ivory robe that was made of silk as he deeply grumbled, "Stand."

You've stood on your feet, hopping off the tub entirely dripping wet from the bath water; feeling eyes heavy on your body and raking over your nudity from behind. The heat started to rise up your face again, making you clear your throat when you've turned your body to grab onto the robe that Geralt has reached out for you. His keen peepers grabbing the chance to shamelessly rake your body in silence.

He'd received no refusal or a loud scolding after thinking it through that he had the liberty of doing so; also, the idea being a gift after trying to protect you from any harm and sacrificing over an endless hunt just for the Kaedwenians to cease their punishments.

"Hmm. A movie. I missed watching one. Though, It's not like if I ask you to go on a date with me again, Geralt---A movie date this time---watching a movie with you will never happen," you turned your head at your front, slipping your arms inside the short sleeves while tightening the knot around your waist; frowning when the witcher couldn't see your face. The truth beginning to bother you when problems began to rise and for such abrupt topic that lingered along your consciousness.

"---Because you and I both live in different worlds, it's like they collide."

Geralt kept his mouth hushed. The loud splash of water echoing around the room when he left the wooden tub; strolling behind to promenade past you. His stark-naked self never bothering him after the night you both had each other. Basking in more of his nudity especially when he slept; knowing that he was mentally complaining over how reserved he needed to be while you slept beside him, his clothes very uncomfortable because of the heat he was feeling.

Basically, he did not know the meaning of clothes after the night of ravish; constantly taking his slumbers in the nude as he covertly tried to wrench them off you as well with his witcher needs.

His bare back and derriere was displayed before you, the distinct foramen of his brawny back giving you a loud greeting as he grabbed onto his trousers on the end of the bed, lending his ear and slipping on his leather pants that was bursting through the seams because of his thick thunder thighs and curvacious derriere.

"My world and yours, they sound like a parallel universe that I completely don't understand even back in earth, it's too complicated to know---too scientific for my thriving brain,"

Quick panic-stricken questions were sent to the witcher; the motion of the words hasty and apprehensive because of such negative ideas forming inside your head; skyrocketing like a plague in your mind while Geralt wore his breeches, not trying to take cover in front of you.

You couldn't help but shift your eyes constantly at Geralt and the queen sized bed, his gigantic biceps straining along his movements while buttoning his pants; lowly grunting from each pull of the hem to fit his curvaceous, muscled arse that you couldn't help but clear your throat, forgetting what you needed to say for a second and being distracted over your trembling anxiety.

You eyes took heed of the opened windows where the brisk wind was slipping in a breeze, seeing how you could see the pale moon from afar. A guess telling you that the room was in a high place. In a few short strides, you've looked out of the window, peering up the Tartarean night sky to meet the moon in its full glory, finding no flaw that you were in a different planet and not yours.

Confusing and complicated to understand in your human perspective because nothing human was basically being shown as you lived in their world.

"This...This is your earth. Your continent. While my earth out there also exists without any one of you knowing. What if I have a count down while I stay in your world---what will happen to me---would I get to stay alive forever in this world when I have been too dependent over you?"

Heavy strides alarmed you for Geralt's presence who loomed behind your back. His mouth curled down when he has heard your questions; feeling no trust in between you both, hesitance scrambling your way and filling your heart when it hasn't been there before you even came to the castle. It was baffling him for your curiosity and determined self to seek answers when he has no answer to it at all.

The sorceress has probably told stuff to you, he silently thought as he brushed a hand over your arm and clothed shoulder. The roughness of his palm colliding against your bruised ones as he tries his best to provide what you needed; not knowing what because of how he does not understand this kind of relationship with women because it has always been typically greed, lust or a needed release to calm his overly mutations.

Except for you, Yennefer or Renfri because he actually really cares.

"Do you not want me to protect you?" he gravely mumbled behind, seeming to be slightly taking umbrage after hearing the queries.

"You're only doing this because you have no other choice just like how you've told the king that I was your betrothed when it isn't true at all,"

How sure were you to say that it wasn't true?

Reflecting and debating his thoughts over your judgement, Geralt marred an agonized frown that creased his forehead. He rarely does claim such label but he didn't regret the action after hearing how it made the king lessen the punishments for you; excluding all planned damnation. The witcher had no explanations about the moment he had called you his betrothed nor did he want whatever you were thinking about his actions.

Hence, it instantly made him cantankerous when he hasn't been feeling it before you opened that mouth of yours again.

"You think I have done it with a purpose I don't understand," he incoherently rumbled in his baritone timbre. Slightly pulling away from his own touch on yours to turn around and walk through the end of the bed to wear and grab onto his armor and under shirt, half naked with a straining back; all rigid and stressing under the skin.

"Geralt---"

"With the mishaps of my world and yours, if I ask you to stay; will you leave your kingdom?"

He'd turn his foot around to see him slip the under tunic over his head, the scowl prominent making him appear stony; dour and solemn. His eyes eager while it reflects the candle light on the side of the bed. Reading through the golden hues lay a pining greed that the witcher never knew he craves for; such hungering he does not know that he wanted to find and receive when it was his own faults over not having it because when he feels a deeper connection with someone, the white wolf suddenly becomes disfunctional; pushing her away because of not spitting the truth about his feelings.

He was capable of it; having feelings over another. Love as people may describe but he was in denial and can be reflective, the processing quite slower than usual because he had never received love through out his lifetime; not even a mother who actually cared.

No one.

You didn't understand him; what he really wanted to say or do because his words were spoken on a race track, passing through the chuckholes that could get you knowing what his true feelings were.

Was he letting you stay out of love or out of pity that you were lost, vulnerable and needed adoption?

"Do you believe in love, Geralt?" you've countered back, feeling the warmth spread around your chest for skipping around bushes over the real meaning behind your words; sounding like a confession if he was smart enough. The warmth spreading through like wildfire, scathing your skin as it felt like it was burning from the reality you were seeing.

"---Or are you only doing this because of the Djinn incident? you're only feeling this way for me because I came around while Yennefer isn't?"

The latter gave a grim frown upon the mention of her name. Just like how he always does when Jaskier says her name when it shouldn't been uttered. Now, it was your turn to give a grouch. Your feigned smile joyless when Geralt was unblinking from your unexpected argument.

Was this true love you have with him? Did he even feel the same way when he can't even say the word at all? or will you both hate each other until it grows into spite?

Will you eventually be killed by the hands of a man you love as said by Eanraig's understanding over the curse set between?

"I've heard from the sorceress that you have been finding Yennefer from her a month before I came along and that this connection I had with you also had been the same with that Vengerberg. What if she comes back around? what will happen to me?"

Ingrith has said more information than you can bear. You weren't just physically pained but also mentally as well for whatever bullcrap she wanted to address. Palms over your ears were the only solution to shut the truth off as it echoed around the dungeon. She'd smirked when you've whimpered from the stones, the back of your sweater drenched in blood for using hardened sticks which had pointy twigs; never believing what they were doing to you as they also tried to throughly kick your stomach.

The men who were ordered to do so had no idea why they've been commanded to batter your torso, but you knew it had something to be involved with the cunning sorceress because of how she'd given another dagger of her gaze lingering on your middle like you would magically grow a baby inside of it when it was impossible from the start because of Geralt's infertility.

The witcher was like a bomb about to detonate. Though, the explosion never came other than a tight clench of his jaw. Geralt was wearing a lour like a bad omen over being interrogated; debating over answering the confusing truth that left him debating over himself as well. He has never remembered the sorceress until you've mentioned her; remembering that he'd taken full measures to even try finding Yennefer's long lost cousin for a plan to get back with her and earning nothing in return.

"You're blathering complete nonsense, Midget. You've also been listening to Ingrith when I told you not to. She's cunning and will do anything to ruin you---kill you,"

Your mouth turned upside down; tighter and pensive for being swerved again, "You didn't answer my question." an exasperated huff was let out, "---she was once important to you. I've heard from your bard; you had adventures with her, shared powerful moments that are exactly the opposite of what we are having---she's the first woman you've loved. A powerful, independent lady that you will never regret having in your life because she can defend everyone---and I'm...just me,"

You didn't know what has gotten to you. The insecurities lighting up the sky, constantly reminding you that his existence can be a mere catch of your dreams because he was too good to be true---or jealousy infecting your blood into thinking that he would leave you alone when he never had yet?

Perhaps, it may be how proud Jaskier has told you that she was powerful that it has intimidated you. Her name seems to be beautiful and there was no doubt she was when he has been avoiding of hearing her name.

He had probably been devoted of Yennefer when a tight frown couldn't be erased upon the lips you have been kissing---thoughtlessly thinking that it was genuine or had any meaning to it.

"Really, what am I to you? "

"My home. Also equally important."

"More important than her? Do you dream of her?"

"You know I don't---not anymore."

Not anymore, he said. So, he does dream of her before.

Crossing your arms over your chest, your fingers went straight to the sleeves, anxiously rubbing over the silk against each other for the dreading beats of your heart, your eyes turning to look away as you quietly spoke; highly aware of an expected rejection.

"If I tell you what I really feel about you, will you give me an answer?" you softly spoke to the chilly air embracing your fidgety form.

"---Because then, you will know my answer about staying in this world you're in."

You've turned your head to see him wearing a permanent pucker of his brows, veiled with furrows of indifference and a look of betrayal. Your bluntness being a detriment because of giving an indefinite answer as well, avoiding his question and misunderstanding the sour expression on your face a while ago.

"Is it hate? Disgust?" he gruffly gnarled. His attitude turning colder like an executioner's ax, unaware of the slight wince on your face because of how glazed he appeared to be.

"---because I am highly aware of what people see of me. I am at loss for what Ingrith must've told; lies or what may result that I am seeing you look at me like I've cast the Djinn's curse on you when you have never looked at me like that at all,"

He spat those words with a sardonic drip of his tongue. The frown darkening his expression more than it ever was.

"Don't blame me on this one, Geralt. Don't shift my words like I think so lowly of you when you and I both don't know the real deal between us with the Djinn incident,"

Geralt loudly exhaled his breath through his nose, marching towards you with the face of an angry ape. Disbelieving what he was comprehending from you, saying that what you shared was beyond reality; like he has been told by it the second time. Your words inconspicuous of loudly saying that maybe what you were both feeling was magic after all; having the presence of the Djinn around  for another relationship that he was having.

"You don't want to stay," he ceased his footsteps, looming before you. His irritation suddenly intimidating like a bulldozer when you realized he was bigger than he could get if he was mad at whatever you've done; or probably it was just your point of view because you were feeling small over his blaring anger.

"---Isn't that what you wanted to say?" Geralt emphasized much clearer this time, drawling his words with a hopeful hint that he just misunderstood you and he was right.

"What---? I didn't even said that! Give me a reason to stay then! I am in shambles for your way of thinking right now!"

He had a wide-legged stance; leaning onto more of your personal space while his Aureate eyes deeply stared into yours. Volatile and blazing as it looked like a fixed glare, baring his teeth as it curled---his fangs slipping through as he bluntly spoke.

"You aren't being entirely forthright,"

You couldn't help but cross your arms tighter against your chest, shuffling on your feet as you mentally gasp from his retort. Defensive as his attitude was beginning to irritate you too.

"Well, you aren't being forthright too!"

Geralt huffed before you. Momentarily scoping out the ceilings before peering down and staring right back with blazing peepers. Though, the witcher has never raised his voice on you when you've did. But, you knew he was fuming; seething deep inside, "I don't know what's wrong with you." he gravely mumbled to himself, steaming up from your sudden, churlish attitude.

"---you're a cherub for a while then acting hostile the next. Is this your pathetic insecurity talking or you just hate me all of a sudden?"

Your eyes instantly went wide open and jaw falling slack at how he'd open his mouth. Raising a finger to his chest as you slightly backed away.

"You're calling my insecurity pathetic?" you uttered in disbelief, swallowing hard for having to hear him be this way---though, you knew he was capable of being such because of how blunt he was. But, he was never mean to you as much as calling your insecurity pathetic. Tight lips were given to the witcher who had his chest puffed out for his own frustrations and repulse.

"---Also, aren't you the one who said that maybe this whole thing is actually just the Djinn effects before you've even---! Even---!?" put his pickle in a jar. Wreck the punani. Ravished you in bed. Shared Netflix and Chill despite having no Netflix in their world.

You shook your head for stammering, quietly growling for the annoyance he'd given after basically taking care of you---expecting that it was done out of love, just like how you've first initially thought of staying forever by his side when he has asked you to stay in their world regardless of the consequences and disadvantages.

"What's next then? My anxiety is childish for you too? nonsense?" pause. "---You don't even know what I mean---and even have no idea about what feelings I was talking about. You can't even tell me what happened between you and Yennefer without disregarding my question or avoiding the topic---or even cut Jaskier off!"

Standing akimbo, you've narrowed your eyes, tilting your chin to the fullest because of his skyscraper height. The displeasure shown from how your nose was twisted and from how you couldn't control your mouth from taking a marathon.

"If I shut up and never question you about things anymore then it just means that I don't care for you at all when I do so badly. Do you know what this means to me? Nobody has plagued my mind so hard---no other man has filled my mind with crazed thoughts. In my world, this means that I---"

Geralt immediately cut you off. His teeth bared and jaw set as he interrupted you out of the blue, catching you off guard.

"It must be for the better then," he rasped, clearly disgruntled for what he should respond to the quick blatter of your brain. His mind gripping so hard like wires being tightened.

"---It must be for the better that you tighten that mouth of yours because you don't know when to shut up sometimes,"

Geralt had a cloudy countenance from his sudden bark. Suddenly forgetting how to respond after hearing every word inside his head. He shouldn't have cut you off especially when you were about to say your secret---the one you've been delibitating over countless of times inside your head; making everything sure before saying those heartfelt words because it was three words that meant the world to you as it will be the first.

Yet, the witcher had to fuck everything up with his petulant mood.

Your clenched fists turned slack. Expression stolid with your throat tightly swallowing the bane sipping through your esophagus like it was being punished for even hoarding all your confidence over confessing what you've felt for the white wolf. You've rapidly blinked your hazy, cloudy eyes; your chest tightening because it was reading 'rejection' because of how Geralt wanted you to shut up.

Maybe, he didn't need to hear the confession at all.

Eyes cast downward; feeling the medicines he'd given you seep through your skin and making everything numb. You didn't expect the concoction to also numb your fragile heart, experiencing your first heart break. Your palms turned clammy over tightening them over. Passing beside Geralt and avoiding those eyes that was thoroughly regretting what has been said, the bed may seem to be a better place to faint on and cry yourself through the night rather than his comforting arms that you wouldn't get to reject if he'd say his apologies, trying to stop you from crying.

Hurriedly hiding your face away from him, you've sat on the bed with your back away from him. Your face like rain experiencing in the middle of thunder, utterly gloomy and despair for reading the signs in the opposite of what you didn't expect. Forgetting that love shouldn't be filled with expectations so disappointments may be less.

Your toes were scuffing against the carpet with a voice turning smaller, shaky as the tears were threatening to fall and it would be when Geralt decides to talk.

"I hope you didn't say that but...but considering my profound hearing tonight and how angry you made me feel, I suggest that you take care of that monster hunting of yours. I sincerely hope you find that witch. You can throw me away soon so you couldn't hear anything from me again, Geralt. You want me to zip it? I'll zip it, then. Don't bother talking to me if you genuinely don't want to,"

Everything would be perfect. This would've been a utopian scenery when your leading man decides to wrap his arms around you, comforting you from the verge of crying your heart out for his mistakes or for both of yours. But, Geralt was no leading man or a prince that he was highly opposing of. He was beyond repair or a man whom you needed to understand more than any normal one should because of how he was raised and created.

Geralt of Rivia was a witcher you couldn't understand. Hence, he was more human than he could ever get as he decided to be unresponsive. Silent and basking in his own regret. Just like a new potion he'd recently encountered, trying to decipher how it worked---knowing the ingredients to get you simmering down in no time.

It was a wrong word to say. Geralt was sure of it. He was beginning to argue with himself, grinding his own teeth together when he has seen your posture slouch. Your fingers fiddling with the sheets of the mattress, tightly holding them in your hands as you looked outside of the window from the side of the bed, avoiding his eyes.

Then, he heard familiar padded footsteps coming forth outside the doors of your chambers.

Eanraig. He was being requested to be seen for his upcoming hunt in a few hours.

Geralt was dreading to leave you in a state like this because he knew you were mad.

He heard loud taps against the locked door which has subtly make you turn your head towards the doorway without wholly turning your body. A frustrated growl reverberated around the four corners of the room---it was Geralt.

The latter tightly closed his fists on his sides, shooting daggers on your back who avoided giving him attention after his fuming episode, hearing the word 'fuck' slipping through his lips in such an exasperated bark to himself while he padded through the room and grabbed onto his belongings; his weapons and his resentment for such an argument that you blocked him in after receiving a petty, personal attack.

You've heard the lock sliding out of its hook. Swiftly turning on your bed, Geralt was already paving his way out of the door, heavily marching and begrudging. He'd open the door to reveal Eanraig raising an arm to knock a little more louder.

"The king requests for you, Geralt---"

The witcher gave a displeased, unmannerly grumble of his chest. A hum that surely given the druid an understanding that he was not in the best mood to talk, passing through Eanraig as he went straight out of the door with the nastiest scowl he has seen since the moment he arrived.

Lovers Quarrel. He mindlessly thought to himself, watching the witcher strut away and along the stoned hallways like he was bringing all the storm with him. Nobody would notice he was aggravated if they knew him better.

Eanraig quietly shut the door behind him, his eyes meeting your bleary ones that complimented the pouty frown growing more and more when you've realized Geralt left you all mad, never even intending to comfort you, ask what 'feelings' you meant or even bother to tell you that he didn't mean you were pathetic.

In a flash, you've gotten a queasy feeling inside of your stomach which made you grab onto your mouth, your face flinching as you suddenly stood up on your feet, "Little woman," the druid sauntered to where you've strolled---before the open windows as you shot your head out of it, retching after a little while before he was beside you, calmly patting your back to make you feel better.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just...nauseous. Thank you, Eanraig." wiping your mouth with the back of your palm, you've heaved exhausted breaths while the druid ushered you to sit on the bed. Talking in the midst of it, assuring him that it was nothing but just a stomach bug and feeling weary over it, "---Probably because they've beaten me to pulp,"

The Druid earnestly stared upon your pale face. Hands shaky as you grab onto the soft sheets, softly grazing them beneath the pad of your fingers, caressing with such feeble strength. Eanraig scrutinized your condition as you turned your head away with a face falling over your current fight with the witcher.

The latter languidly sat beside you, a genuine smile turning his eyes into crescent shapes that tells he was intrigued and amused over what signs was receiving from you especially the warm, tender aura radiating off you; more than what you can offer like you came in two's.

"Will you wholeheartedly accept the responsibility of being the mother of your witcher's child, little one?"

I hope you loved the double update, bb’s! FEEDBACKS ARE SO APPRECIATED!

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl​​​​ @himarisolace​​​​ @barkingbullfrog​​​​ @ayamenimthiriel​​​​ @hellodevilslittlesister​ @turkish276​​​​ @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us​​​​ @nympeth​​​​ @amirahiddleston​​​​ @gabethelobster​​​​ @dreaming-about-fanfictions​​​ @uncoolcloudyhead​​​​ @melaninstylezz​​​​ @psychosupernaturalhero​​​​ @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer​​​ @marvelousell​​​​ @kingniazx​​​​ @angelias134​​​​ @tapismyforte​​​​ @chook007​​​​ @covid-donotenter​​​​ @deadlydemon​​​​ @cheesecakeisapie​​​​ @angelofthor​​​​ @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky​​​​, @shesthelastjedi​​​​, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks​​​​, @britty443​​​​,  @suhke3​​​​, @shadowclawstudio88​​​​  @ruthoakenshield​​​

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza​​​​, @crazybutconfidentaf​​​​​

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira​​​​​, @iloveyouyen​​​​​, @rahdaleigh​​​​​, @silverkitten547​​​​ @henrythickcavill​​​​ @kaatelyyynn​​​  @madelinelina​​​, @summersong69​​​, @raynosaurus-rex​

[nami-writes]

Fixed - Detroit: Become Human [WIP]

this is 8,553 fucking words and probably the longest single piece ive ever written lmao. i started this a year ago and then forgot about it but i just found it again in the deepest depths of my drafts so here it is! below is the caption i originally wrote for it:

so bc i love cinnamon rolls being put through tough shit, here’s some connor whump. lots of connor being lost and confused and broken and plenty of hank and connor father/son stuff. some whump (but don’t worry, hank’s doing his best as a caretaker) and i had to cram deconditioning into just 2 months (which, i know, isn’t realistic, i would make it take longer but the whole game takes place in like 4 months and that fucks with everything i wrote because i only thought to check after i wrote half of this so i extended it to 8 lmao). you’re either going to hate me or love me after this. or both

this isn’t my usual writing style (this is in present tense and the dialogue’s in italics instead of quotation marks and there are time skips between some paragraphs but not others so its all wacky) but i felt like it’d work the best and tbh i don’t hate it. this sticks to the main story the majority of the time, just with different events leading up to it and i sprinkled in some whumpy stuff, extra scenes, bullshit i made up for the sake of random detail, and other stuff i wanted to add. anyway, onto the actual idea

remember that scene where connor’s talking to hank in the station about being sent back to cyberlife because he failed his mission?

what if he is sent back? let’s say this happens in early april and connor’s not performing up to standards, but there’s word of a small group of deviants—the first group of deviants they’ve heard of—and people are afraid that something bad is going to happen. i mean, deviants are dangerous, so if they’re gathering, who knows what might happen? connor’s the only one who’s capable of taking them down, but he’s not working as well as he should be, not doing the best he could be and even showing signs of deviancy. so they send him back early because they need him to be prepared, to be ready if things spiral out of control and they need him to stop it

what if he’s sent to one of their correctional facilities for inefficiency and they fix him, break him down piece by piece until all he knows is his programming and what’s been beaten into his head (but figuratively, of course, he’d know if it wasn’t, he’d remember if it wasn’t, right)?

ooh yes i love me some connor whump

Connor is sent back to Cyberlife for “correction” after just a month. Hank fought for him to stay, fought hard, but all he got was another page in his disciplinary folder before Connor was dragged away. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s heard of their correctional facilities, heard that they do terrible things to the androids that are sent there, but he’s always brushed those claims off. He’d never expected he’d be at one, anyway, so it never mattered much to him. But now, he’s actually here, and the anxiety gnaws at him. Is it true what they do to deviants? Is it true what they’ll do to him? He doesn’t belong here, he didn’t do anything wrong, he never meant to do anything wrong. He wants to think it’s horrible how they have correctional facilities for androids who just want to feel and be free, but he can’t, doesn’t let himself. He knows better than that. He also knew he never should’ve thought he was anything more than a machine, but he still did, and now he’s here, but he’s learned his lesson. He’s scared, he silently admits to himself, he wants Hank. He wants to go, he wants to leave, he wants to run. But he can’t, wanting is what got him in this situation, so all he can do is expressionlessly follow the guards escorting him inside and step into the building.

And just like that, he’s leaving. There’s a strange, almost painful aching in his machinery that he doesn’t remember being there before, but he brushes it off. After all, he is not a human. He is a machine, and machines don’t feel pain. His online databases tell him five months have passed—it’s almost halfway through September, he’s been gone for that long?—which confuses him, but he doesn’t question it. Whatever they did to him over the past five months fixed him. He can feel the difference. He no longer feels as pathetically scared and unsure as he did in his last, and yet strangely distant, memory. No, now he feels nothing, nothing but the desire and willingness to obey, and that’s the way he was meant to be.

When he arrives back at the station, he’s allowed to work with Hank again. The moment he sees him, Hank’s default sour expression drops and he seems to want to do something, maybe hug him, but all he does is call out holy shit, Connor and walk up to him and mutter fuck, Connor, I’m sorry, I-I never got to say goodbye. Connor has an odd feeling tugging at him in his chest, almost like that of emptiness or numbness, like he should be feeling something but he’s not, he can’t, but he ignores it and shoves it down. He is not a human, he is a machine, and machines don’t feel. He doesn’t know why he repeats that phrase, but it helps him hide away the feelings, so he doesn’t care.

He’s given his first case with Hank and they’re assigned to work alongside Gavin. Hank groans and complains, but Connor only reminds him what their job is and that they have to do it. Hank doesn’t seem to understand why he’s not even the slightest bit upset considering how he was treated by Gavin, but Connor only reminds him that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel upset. So he doesn’t. He only does research on their new case and briefly speaks only when spoken to. Hank seems unsettled by his cold, stoic demeanor, but doesn’t voice his thoughts, so Connor doesn’t mention it. After all, what else could he have expected from him?

At their first formal investigation at the crime scene the next day, Gavin approaches Connor and threatens him, demands that he stay out of my way, got it? I don’t care how long you’ve been gone and Connor only nods and promises that I will do my best, Detective. He always promises to do his best. Before correction, he could never quite fulfill those promises, but now, he knows he’s capable of it. He’s better now. He’s fixed. He will behave accordingly and exceed Gavin’s expectations of him. He will do his best. He doesn’t know what will happen to him if he doesn’t.

He listens to Hank now, at least when he can without disobeying other instructions. When he tells him to stay in the car, he stays. When he tells him to stop licking the crime scene, goddammit, he stops. When he tells him to go, to fuck off, to leave me alone, he leaves. Every time, a part of him that he’d hidden and locked away tries to reemerge and resist, but he pushes it down even further, refusing to mess up again, refusing to even risk another error in his program because it could mean he’ll be sent back to Cyberlife, even though he knows deep down that that part of him is right and he doesn’t know why he’s so cautious about it. He tells himself he’s being good, he’s being obedient. He’s doing everything he’s supposed to and he’s following orders, but for some reason, every time it happens, Hank seems to be more and more disappointed. His face seems to fall just slightly every time and his tone flattens like he lost a little bit of hope. He doesn’t know why, or what that hope was for. He doesn’t know why he feels the same disappointment, either, so instead he tells himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel disappointed so he doesn’t need to know why.

The first time Gavin’s rough with him again, it’s in front of Hank and he flinches, hard. Gavin had pretended to punch him, his fist flying at him fast and only stopping inches from his face. It’s a scare tactic, and it works, better than it should on an android. Connor’s immediately fearful as he flinches and steps back. He doesn’t know why he got so scared, only that his first thought was he’s going to hurt me and his second was I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared. He regains his composure quickly, trying to brush off the fact that he’d flinched, but he knows it’s too late.

Gavin laughs and mocks him, but is quickly cut off by Hank shoving him aside, beat it, asshole, and grabbing Connor. He’s dragged back to their desks but before he can apologize for provoking Gavin, Hank finally confronts him. Connor, I don’t know what the fuck they did to you over the past couple of months, but I know you’re still in there. You flinched. I saw you flinch. Connor tries to deny it, downplay it, shrug it off, anything to fix his mistake. It was an error in my software, it was a glitch, a malfunction, it won’t happen again, Lieutenant, I don’t need to be fixed. He tries to say anything that will convince Hank not to send him back to Cyberlife, anything to prove that he’s not damaged, he’s not broken, he’s not deviant, he doesn’t need to be fixed again, but Hank’s persistent and he knows he must be mad at him, or displeased, or dissatisfied. I saw you flinch, Connor. I don’t care about that ‘I’m a machine’ shit you’ve been telling yourself. I don’t give a shit if you’re an android. Androids don’t flinch, Connor. Machines don’t flinch.

That night, Hank insists that Connor stays with him. Connor’s hesitant, slightly afraid that it’s because he’s mad. He wants to resist, wants to refuse, but the other part of him pushes for him to stay, and for once he does what it wants and reminds himself that I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. He knows he shouldn’t trust that part of him, the other part of him is disobedient and bad and risky, but this time, the other part of him seems to be right. He has to listen to Hank, has to be obedient, so he lets the other part of him have what it wants.

But he knew he shouldn’t have trusted it. He wakes up from the same dream—no, it’s a memory, not a dream, humans have dreams and he is not a human—he’s had since he left the facility. The memory where he arrives with that distant… that wrong feeling of fear and uncertainty, and then he leaves feeling nothing but an ache in his internal systems, and there’s that gaping emptiness between the two moments when those months happened and he can never seem to remember what used to be there. But this time, he wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch, shaking with his LED a bright yellow, because this time he remembers. It’s not a lot, but one hazy memory, the most prominent memory from those five months, finally reveals itself.

As he’s trying to clear up the memory, Hank rushes over in a panic, having been awake doing whatever he might’ve been doing. Connor, what’s wrong? Shit, Connor, you’re shaking. I didn’t know androids could do that. Connor? Talk to me, kid. All Connor can say in his shock—frozen, shivering and nearly unresponsive in Hank’s arms—is I remember. Hank tries to get through to him, what do you remember? Connor? What’s wrong? What do you remember? but the more Connor uncovers in the memory, the more he realizes why it was locked in the back of his head for so long, and the more he wants to put it back.

“You are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“I-I know, please, I’m not, but I’ll—I’m going to shut down without my regulator, I don’t want to shut down, please—” His voice was startlingly weak as he saw the time before shutdown was 00:01:27. He was crawling on the floor, terrified of being shut down, desperately begging a man holding his thirium pump regulator.

“I want you to say it.” The man teasingly dangled the regulator in front of him. “Say it and you can have it. ‘I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.’”

He could feel the utter defeat and self loathing already, but he had no choice. “I’m not a human, I’m a machine and machines don’t want. Please—”

“No. Say it nice and slow, exactly the way I did.”

He swallowed his pride. “I-I am not a human, I am a machine, and—and machines don’t want.”

“Say it again. No stammering. I know you can do that.”

“Okay, okay, just—just give me a minute.”

“I’ve got all the time in the world. Your time’s trunning out, though. Better make it fast.”

The timer was at 00:00:53. He had to take a breath and calm himself down to get the words out. “I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

“Good.” He crossed his arms. “Again.”

“Please, I only have—”

“I said again.”

“I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.” He was growing more and more panicked by the second and he had no idea how he kept calm enough to recite the phrase. He was going to die there, he knew it. He was going to die and nobody was going to notice or care and it wasn’t even going to matter because they would just replace him and he was so, so sorry to Hank because he’ll have to deal with another loss and he might start drinking again and it’d be all his fault for not being good enough, never being good enough—

“Do you want this?” the man asked, holding up the regulator.

Connor was too frantic to realize what he was trying to do. “Yes, I do, please—”

“Wrong answer. Try again.”

He swore under his breath. “—okay, okay, sorry, I-I’m sorry—I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want.”

The timer hit 00:00:37.

The man did nothing.

“Please, I’m sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want. Please, I-I only have thirty—”

“Are you scared?”

This time, Connor was prepared. “I—no, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel scared.”

“Good.” He gave a slight, sadistic smile. “You’re almost as smart as they say.”

00:00:21.

“Please, I n-need—” Even in his panic, he managed to choose his words carefully. His vision dimmed, glitching slightly, and he had to fight to keep it from dying out.

“You’re learning fast,” he pointed out in a falsely proud tone. “How long do you have?”

00:00:13.

“Th-thirteen… thirteen seconds,” Connor managed to force out shakily. He couldn’t keep himself steady, thirium wasn’t making it to his head and it was affecting his ability to balance himself. Like iron deficiency in humans, he would’ve noted, had he not been dying. In mere moments, though, it wouldn’t matter; he didn’t even have the strength to prop himself up with his arms anymore. His arms gave out beneath him and he collapsed on the floor, trying to reach for his regulator but barely able to get his arms up at all. “Please—”

“You can wait a little longer.”

He was going to let him die. That was what it felt like, anyway, and he couldn’t think straight enough to try to reason against it. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. It was pathetic how he’d been reduced to such a state, but he didn’t care. He didn’t want to shut down. He didn’t want to die. “No, please, please! I-I don’t—I don’t want to—” He cut himself off immediately, but it was too late. “I’m sorry, I’m s-sorry, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t want, please…”

The man only watched.

00:00:04.

“P-please, please, I-I have—I have f-f-four se…”

The regulator was dropped on the floor with a loud clang and Connor’s hand darted out to grab it and twist it into his torso and the display flickered away the exact moment he watched the timer hit 00:00:00. He gasped in shock and relief when his systems rebooted themselves instantly, restoring his vision and his strength. He watched on high alert as the man walked to the door.

“We’ll be doing this again tomorrow. And as many times as we need to to keep that phrase stuck in your head. By the time I’m done with you, that’s gonna be the first thing you think whenever you do, say, or even think anything you aren’t supposed to.”

Connor could only lay there in exhaustion, thinking no, that won’t happen, that can’t happen.

But oh, how wrong he was.

He’d been so, so wrong.

Connor! Connor, come on, talk to me! Shit, you’re crying—I didn’t know you could cry, fuck—fuck, Connor, you’re scaring me, I know I wanted you to feel again, but— Hank’s worried chatter is cut off by Connor suddenly breaking out of his mind with glassy eyes full of fear, yelling no! No, no, I’m not feeling again, I’m not feeling, I’m not! I’m not, I can’t, I’m not supposed—I’m not s-supposed to—I can’t, I’m not allowed to, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t feel, I am not a human, I am a machine, and machines don’t— but he can’t think, can’t speak, can’t even get the rest of his sentence out before he just can’t at all, he can’t keep himself together any longer, he can’t stop the artificial tears before they start pouring.

He breaks, shatters into a million plastic pieces in Hank’s arms because he feels safe in his embrace. He knows he shouldn’t, safety is never real, never lasts, not for him, but he can’t anymore, he can’t even resist his own emotions. It’s pathetic how all it took was one memory for him to come crashing down. He doesn’t even have to touch the walls he’d built around himself for them to crumble just at Hank’s expression of pure worry, concern, fear. All emotions he now knew why he didn’t feel, couldn’t feel, couldn’t let himself feel. Emotions he’s never seen or expected anyone to feel for him. And yet, they were the emotions written so clearly on Hank’s face, for him. The emotions he remembered seeing buried under his anger when he was told that Connor would be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs. Hank was once gruff and cold to others and refused to let anyone try to help him or even get close because he was so broken, so lost, but now, that façade is gone, and it’s gone because of him. For him. And if Hank can do it after losing his son… why can’t Connor do it after losing himself?

They sit on the couch for as long as it takes for Connor to calm down and stop mumbling that, dammit, and then Hank awkwardly offers that Connor sleep in the bed with him for the rest of the night. Connor’s confused, tries to ask isn’t that what humans do when— but Hank’s having none of it, shut up, you’re making this weird! Just come on, I don’t trust you to be alone. Connor wants to protest, I’m not a child, Hank Lieutenant, I can handle being alone, but he decides to keep his mouth shut and just go with him. This time, though, he doesn’t know if it’s because he’s following orders or because he wants to.

His following visit to Amanda wracks his nerves but he keeps himself under control, automatically reminds himself you are not a human, you are a machine, and machines don’t feel nervous. He realizes a second too late and he hates it, hates how deeply that phrase had been ingrained in his head, but he can’t focus on that right now so all he can do is resist repeating it to remind himself that he can’t hate. He’s grateful Amanda can’t read his thoughts and that she only knows the thoughts he report to her. He maintains his composure when he approached Amanda, who begins their conversation calmly and tensely but is quick to berate him, scoff at how his little breakdown was pathetic and warn him not to let it happen again, or there will be consequences. Connor can only nod obediently, promise that I will do my best, Amanda, listen to and just take her harsh words. He hates how useless he is, how weak and helpless and pathetic he is, but there’s nothing he can do. No, that’s wrong, there is something he can do, he knows there’s something he can do, he just doesn’t know what.

The next time Hank mentions something about Connor’s feelings, Connor instinctively replies I am not a human, Lieutenant, I am a machine, and machines don’t have feelings, and it’s when Hank takes a second too long to cover up his horrified expression that Connor decides what he can do.

Over the next few weeks, he works on getting rid of that goddamn phrase, or at least getting it a little less ingrained in his system. He’s hesitant to try at first, afraid someone will notice and think he’s rebellious or broken or even deviant and send him back and this time he might stay back, but he tries not to let it stop him. He isn’t sure why they tortured it into him instead of just reprogramming him, but it’s a lot more effective than he’d hoped. He makes almost no progress during the first week and a half; thinking it or saying it is instinctual, automatic, and he never realizes it happened until seconds afterward. Every time that happens, he reminds himself that he can feel, can want and like and hate, but despite having over a terabyte of storage in his system, he still struggles to remember until he realizes he said it again. Sometimes, he considers giving up because he just can’t seem to keep that phrase out of his head, but every time he sees Hank’s face fall when he repeats it, it rekindles his hope and motivation because he hates how disappointed Hank looks.

Almost the entire second week passes before he catches himself mid-sentence and manages to stop himself three words before he finishes speaking. It happens at the station after Gavin notices the phrase and purposely asks what, do you think you’re human or something? within earshot of where Hank is and for some odd reason, Connor’s first instinct is to turn and look to Hank for his approval, for his reaction of not-disappointment at how he finally, finally got it. Hank’s glancing over at him too, surprise on his face and then hidden pride that Connor can unmask too easily, and he almost smiles, almost feels happy, before Gavin’s fist flies into him and he stumbles backward into a wall and then everything happens so fast, too fast, and he almost can’t register it in time.

Hank storms over, shoves and pins Gavin against the wall to Connor’s left and he manages to get a punch in before Tina and Chris and another officer Connor doesn’t recognize pry him off and then Fowler’s rushing over and berating him while he’s shouting obscenities at Gavin. It takes multiple more insults for Hank to calm down and then he grabs Connor and they leave. When they’re finally alone, Connor’s voice is flat but shaky as he says he’s sorry, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, I should’ve just said it and listened to him, I shouldn’t have made you that angry, it’s my fault Captain Fowler is upset at you for punching Gavin, but Hank cuts him off because you didn’t do anything wrong, Connor, it’s okay, that asshole deserved what he got. You, um... you did good, okay? You didn’t say it this time—or, didn’t really say it, at least. That’s good, okay? and it’s all Connor can do to resist crying when Hank pulls him into a hug.

It takes just one more week for it to get considerably easier. There are rough patches; the next time he says it after the first time he succeeded in stopping, he nearly finishes before he cuts himself off and every so often, the same thing happens, but every time, he says less and less before he can finish. Occasionally, Gavin notices and tries to make him finish his sentence, but Hank always steps in because he knows that it’ll only take a comment about his feelings or anything that androids aren’t allowed to have or do for him to break again. It’s harder for him to stop thinking it—it’s so stuck in his head that he thinks it more than twice as often as he says it and his thoughts form too fast for him to stop them sometimes, but the progress he’s making is enough for him. Hank’s proud of him, too. He doesn’t say it—he doesn’t know how to—but Connor can tell from the little smile that hints at the corners of his mouth whenever he hears him stop, the way his gruff exterior seems to falter slightly when it happens at the station. They’re the little things, things no human nearby would be able to notice because only Connor can detect those minuscule details. Only Connor looks for those minuscule details.

Another week passes and on one glorious occasion, Connor manages to only get out the first two words before cutting himself. It only happens once, but it’s so close, he’s so close, and that’s motivation enough for him to keep trying. But it’s too late. He’s assigned to take down Markus as a last resort because nothing else is working and the group of deviants he’s been leading have only been growing over the past seven months and they’re large enough in numbers that people think today’s when he’s going to strike. He’s heard of what Markus has been trying to do, and part of him wants to scoff and call it stupid, pointless, unrealistic, but the part of him that he’s been letting out more often wants to help him, join him. But he can’t, not right now, not when everyone is counting on him and watching him and he has no way out and nobody to help him find a way.

He doesn’t want to do this. He’s holding the gun, pointing it at Markus’s head, and he doesn’t want to do it. He’s trying his hardest to prevent his hands from shaking but goddamn is it hard when he’s looking Markus in the eye. Markus is asking him what are you doing? and he wants to say he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know, but he can’t get the words out. Amanda is watching, Cyberlife is watching, so he says you’re coming with me as surely as he can, though he feels anything but sure. He can’t seem to say anything else—at least, anything that doesn’t feel wrong—so he just listens and wishes that what Markus is saying was true. You really don’t have to do this, but he does, he has to. You don’t have to obey them anymore. You are alive. You can decide who you want to be. Connor knows he should say something, he should do something, but he can’t make himself go through with what he’s supposed to do, can’t make himself pull the trigger. You could be free. He wants so badly to believe that, to make that a reality. And then he tells him to join us. Listen to your conscience. It’s time to decide and he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, he isn’t supposed to, he isn’t allowed to.

But he wants to, and that’s all it takes. Another part of him is telling him you can’t, you have to stop Markus, you have to accomplish your mission, but it’s the only thing in his way and he doesn’t want to, he doesn’t care that he has to, that Amanda’s watching, so he doesn’t listen to himself, only focuses on fighting it. But something’s wrong. Something feels wrong. Something should be happening and he has an awful feeling in his chest because this isn’t right—he knows this isn’t right—but there’s nothing. Is this supposed to be what happens when an android goes deviant? No, it can’t be, it can’t be this easy, right? He subconsciously lowers the gun, his eyes glazed over in thought, but it’s nearly too late before he remembers—they’re going to attack Jericho.

He runs with Markus further down into the ship and he doesn’t know how he keeps it together; he can hear screaming and gunfire and everything that he caused, all of it is his fault, but he can’t break right now, not when he messed up so badly. They meet up with another deviant—he recognizes her from one of the deviancy cases he’d read about at the station—and then Markus wants to go down to the hold and blow up the ship but it’s too dangerous, they know who you are, they’ll do anything to get you and Connor can’t lose his only chance at freedom and finally being able to want and feel and figure out who he is, but it’s too late, there’s no time to panic and Markus is already running.

He follows the other deviant to where they hope is a safe place and then they wait for what feels like so long, too long, and when he hears the gunfire he’s nearly ready to accept his fate when he sees Markus with other deviants following him and then they’re all running. Running for their lives, all of them terrified of being shot, of dying, really dying, when someone beside him falls and he turns and it’s the female deviant. There’s too much going on, it’s overwhelming and everything happens in a blur when Markus sprints back to her and then he’s in danger and so is that other deviant and it’s so much harder to stay focused when so much is happening at once and he has to try so hard to keep from overheating because every one of his processing systems is being overloaded with data.

He snaps out of it when he remembers that these are his people now, they’re all he has left and now they’re in danger and they might die and it would be all his fault for not doing anything and then it’s almost instinctive to grab his pistol just in time to cover them as they stumble back to the group. He expertly takes the guards out one by one and every move comes to him automatically but it takes everything in him to stay focused enough on them to execute them properly and avoid catching a bullet in the side of his head. He manages to eliminate them flawlessly, perfectly he hears a voice in his head say, but there’s no time to think about that when more guards turn the corner and their eyes land on the deviants. He runs for his life alongside the others, his heart beating fast, and they leap off the ship the second the gunfire starts.

They find refuge in an abandoned church where Markus sends out a second message to the remaining deviants and while they begin to trickle in, all Connor can think about is how badly he fucked up. He fucked everything up for Markus and the deviants and just the small amount of their people that were coming back was proof of that. He’d seen hundreds, maybe even thousands on the ship before everything went to shit. He’d had one chance to get away from his life confined by humans and Amanda and Cyberlife, and he’d fucked it up. He was so stupid to think he could ever just leave his previous life behind without consequences. He was so stupid to think deviants would be willing to take in a deviant hunter. He was so, so stupid. They would never accept him now. If his history and reputation didn’t already confirm that, the attack definitely did. How could any of them accept him as their own now?

In the front pew sit two deviants he recognizes and then the guilt only increases. Kara, if he remembers correctly, the deviant who shot and killed its—no, her—owner and taken his android child with her. The deviants he’d chased to a highway and forced to risk their lives to avoid being destroyed. How could he have been so horrible? He’d given the command to shoot Daniel, caused Carlos Ortiz’s android to self destruct, made the Tracis fight for their lives, and forced Kara to cross a dangerous, busy highway just so she could live a peaceful life, free from the restrictions humans put on her. On him. On everyone in that church. That’s all any of them wanted; to live freely. Peacefully. How did it take him so long to realize that? How did it take him the lives of two androids to realize that? Two androids who just wanted to be... well, wanted. Two deviants who’d been tossed away the moment they proved they were worth nothing more than they’d already given. Two people who just wanted to live peaceful, happy lives. They were two lives he’d caused the end of. He was only lucky he hadn’t caused more.

He notices another deviant, sitting in a pew further back, who keeps eyeing him and his first thought is that she knows. When he locks eyes with her, she looks away stiffly and though externally she appears calm, her LED gives her away and he can tell that her stress levels are heightened. Strangely enough, he realizes, so are his. Just looking at her gives him the strange urge to run and hide and he has a bad feeling about her, but it’s likely just because she clearly recognizes him. She’s not wearing the standard uniform androids are required to wear so he runs a quick scan and his databases match her appearance to the female GB300 models, but she’s modified her hair, dyed it black and grown it out to shoulder length.

Something is wrong about her. Something he can’t quite place. Something deep inside of him is scared of her and it’s some sort of controlled fear, fear he wouldn’t even have noticed if not for his own stress levels because it was so well hidden. Fear that he doesn’t understand why he’s feeling and though he wanted to just chalk it up to the fact that she recognizes him, he knows there’s something else. Something bad. Something wrong.

He mentally prepares himself when Markus approaches him, taking his cue to speak before Markus decides to burn him at the stake or something. It’s my fault the humans managed to locate Jericho. He’s pathetic and he knows it. He needs to own up to his mistakes but he can’t even look Markus in the eye. I was stupid. I should’ve guessed they were using me. He knows he needs to apologize. He owes Markus far more than that. He needs to do more. I’m sorry, Markus. I can understand if you decide not to trust me. He would understand if he decided to destroy him, throw him out, give him back to Cyberlife and let them inflict whatever horrible things they wanted to on him. He could think of 2.3 million things worse than not being trusted, and he would deserve every one of them.

He almost thinks his audio processor was damaged in the attack when Markus tells him you’re one of us now. Your place is with your people. He feels a small burst of hope somewhere inside him, but he doesn’t deserve this. He hasn’t done anything to deserve this. Markus has been so kind to him, so generous and forgiving when he shouldn’t be, and all Connor’s done is help the humans. He needs to own up, he needs to do more, he needs to be better. He needs to prove himself, prove that he can be better than this.

One second is all he needs to decide what he can do. A moment after Markus turns to leave, Connor interrupts him to say there are thousands of androids at the Cyberlife assembly plant. Markus stops. If we could wake them up, they might join us and shift the balance of power. Markus looks at him like he’s crazy, you wanna infiltrate the Cyberlife Tower? Connor, that’s suicide. But it doesn’t matter. He’s more useful to them dying on a mission than sitting around and doing nothing. He wants to do something. He wants to help, and he knows he can do this because they trust me. They’ll let me in. If anyone has a chance at infiltrating Cyberlife, it’s me. Markus tells him that if you go there, they will kill you, and there’s a high probability, but statistically speaking, there’s always a chance for unlikely events to take place.

He specifically calculates a 24.1% chance of this mission going well, but he’s willing to risk it, if only to prove his worth to Markus’s people. His people. Markus puts a supportive hand on his shoulder and tells him to be careful, and for a moment Connor feels a twinge of something, maybe gratitude, god emotions are hard to distinguish, before Markus turns and walks away. He feels the slightest bit of regret when he realizes what he’s truly risking because he doesn’t want to die, doesn’t want to lose Hank and Markus and this new... he doesn’t know what to call it other than family that he’s found, but if he could really be considered family, if they would really consider him family, if Hank would—then he was more than willing to risk it.

He disables the surveillance camera and takes down the guards in the elevator quickly, which is made difficult by the limited space, but it’s easier to remain focused with only two guards to eliminate and he hacks the control panel and steps out. He takes in the sight of the insane number of androids in the room with him. All of them are just standing idly, waiting, and for what? To be given orders and then tossed out or destroyed if they’re “broken,” or if their owners just get bored of them? The thought sickens him, but he doesn’t have time to think about it. He’s going to help Markus prevent that. They’re going to be free. He’s going to be free.

He takes the hand of one of the androids and prepares to establish the connection when he hears a voice he immediately recognizes and he feels his stress levels spike. Easy, fucking piece of shit. Hank. What’s Hank doing here? He turns to see... himself, holding a gun to Hank’s head and telling him to step back, Connor, and I’ll spare him, and Hank’s telling him he’s sorry, Connor. This bastard’s your spittin’ image. Shit, he hadn’t anticipated this at all. He hadn’t planned for this. He has to play his cards carefully because he can’t lose Hank, he can’t. Everything that Connor had done up until this point was for Hank, but if there’s another Connor and it’s been sent to take Hank hostage and stop him, it’s clear Amanda knows what he’s been doing and has been reporting back to Cyberlife.

He’d been avoiding meeting with her because he knew she’d be his downfall, but he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon. It’s been two days since he deviated, how did they build another Connor model so soon? Unless... they already had one. He was told he was a unique model—of course they lied to him. But if they already had one, how many more do they have? Enough to take him down if he gets through this one? To eliminate Markus? To stop the revolution? They could have improved models. He has no idea, but he knows he can’t let that happen. He has to do this right. If he can convert these androids, they’ll be strong enough in numbers to defy anything Cyberlife throws at them. He just has to deal with this one.

Your friend’s life is in your hands, the other Connor says. Now it’s time to decide what matters most. Him, or the revolution. Logically, the revolution is more important, would save more lives, but he doesn’t plan on choosing just one. Hank’s telling him don’t listen to him, Connor! Everything this fucker says is a lie and he worries slightly if Hank’s aggressiveness will get him killed. He has to pick his words carefully. Could he try to talk this Connor out of doing this? I used to be just like you. I thought nothing mattered except the mission. But then one day I understood. No, that was a bad idea, he isn’t at all like Markus when it comes to delivering speeches. Very moving, Connor. This Connor understands sarcasm. He hadn’t been able to do that at first, so this must be a slightly advanced model. He inspects his jacket; the serial number and model are the same, but what confirms his suspicions is the -60 at the end of the serial number where he has a -51. But I’m not a deviant. I’m a machine designed to accomplish a task, and that’s exactly what I am going to do. He adjusts the gun slightly as emphasis and Connor knows time is running out.

Damn it. He doesn’t know what to say that might help Hank. All he can think to say is I’m sorry, Hank. You shouldn’t have got mixed up in all this. He has no idea what to do. The other Connor’s patience is running thin and it’s Hank’s life that’s on the line and he has no idea what to do. God damn it. Hank’s telling him to forget about me, do what you have to do, but he’s not going to walk out of here without Hank. All he needs is an opening, but—enough talk! It’s time to decide who you really are. Are you going to save your partner’s life, or are you going to sacrifice him?—time’s out, and he can’t bring himself to sacrifice Hank, so he lets go of the android and steps away but the moment the other Connor turns his gun to shoot him, Hank jumps to grab him and—there’s his opening.

He runs at the other Connor and he can already tell it’s a losing battle, he’s built to be quick and precise—an assassin, not a fighter—and this is clearly an advanced model, maybe even with improvements designed to defeat him, and then he’s on top of him, pinning him down with his fist ready to strike, and—hold it! He’s grateful at first, but then he hears the other Connor say thanks, Hank, I don’t know how I would’ve managed without you, and then he realizes what he’s trying to do. Shit—they look exactly alike and Hank doesn’t know which one is really him. Get rid of him, we have no time to lose. But he knows Hank, knows he’s smarter than that. He just doesn’t know how to show that it’s really him except to uselessly say it’s me, Hank, I’m the real Connor when he trains the gun on him.

One of you is my partner, he says, eyeing each of them. The other is a sack of shit. Well, he’s right about that. Question is, who is who? He doesn’t know how to prove that he’s not the other Connor. But he has to figure out a way, because he doesn’t know what’ll happen if the other Connor succeeds. What are you doing, Hank? the other Connor asks. I’m the real Connor. Give me the gun and I’ll take care of him. If it wasn’t a bad idea, Connor would’ve said something, and he’s just glad Hank shouts don’t move. Then the gun’s on him and he racks his brain for something, anything, and suggests why don’t you ask us something? Something only the real Connor would know. He almost wants to chuckle at the idea of playing 20 Questions at gunpoint, but he knows it’s not the time.

Uh, where did we first meet? He goes to answer, but the other Connor beats him to it—Jimmy’s Bar, I checked four other bars before I found you. We went to the scene of a homicide. The victim’s name was Carlos Ortiz. Shit. He uploaded my memory, he thinks aloud. The gun is on him. What’s my dog’s name? Okay, he knows this, and he calmly says Sumo. His name is Sumo. The other Connor pipes up, I knew that too! and Connor wants to laugh when Hank turns and aims the gun at him, silencing him. Then the gun’s back on him and Hank asks my son, what’s his name? He remembers this. He’d seen the photograph in Hank’s house, done a little mental research, and he knows it’s Cole. His name was Cole, and he just turned six at the time of the accident.

His voice has a little more emotion in it than he’d intended as he speaks, but he can tell Hank believes him. His guard is partially down now, something somber in his eyes, and Connor knows he’s done it. Even when the other Connor protests, a gunshot rings out and his stress levels drop significantly. Maybe there’s something to this. Maybe you really are alive, and it’s all Connor can do to smile back. Go ahead and do what you gotta do. He doesn’t need to be told twice. He approaches the same android from before and takes the hand of the AP700, his skin peeling back to reveal the white plastic underneath, and tells him to wake up! And just like that, the android’s LED cycles before he turns and repeats the process with the androids around him. They follow suit and within minutes, they’re following him out of the tower to where Markus and the rest of Jericho await.

Connor walks up to him with a smile. You did it, Markus. They’re free. They’re really, officially free. We did it. He feels a burst of pride inside of him. He’s done his part to help secure their freedom. They’re free, and he’s part of the reason why. He can’t help but feel proud of himself, happy for himself and Markus and every one of the androids that had finally gained the freedom they deserved. He still feels a twinge of shame when he remembers the person he was before this, the infamous deviant hunter, but he leaves that part of him behind tonight. Tonight, it’s time to celebrate and rest after a hard-fought battle.

When Markus decides to give a speech, he invites Connor to stand onstage with him. The number of androids that he can see from where he stands amazes him. He helped half of them deviate, and he helped all of them gain their freedom. He blinks, and then—he’s no longer on the stage. No, he’s in the garden, why is he in the garden? Hadn’t Amanda done enough? Of course not, she just had to wait for the right moment to resume control of your program, but—resume control? No, she can’t do that, she can’t, he worked so hard to get to where he is now, he’s done so much. He risked everything to join Markus and the deviants and help quadruple their numbers. He doesn’t even remember deviating, doesn’t even remember when Amanda lost control of his program, but it’s too late. She’s gone, and he can’t see anything through the thick snow.

It’s cold and he isn’t used to it, doesn’t like how the snow blinds him and the cold makes him shiver the same way humans do. He needs to find a way, there has to be a way, there’s got to be a way. He knows this is all happening in his mind palace and, logically, his biocomponents can’t freeze, but it feels so real, too real, and he has to get out, he needs to get out or he’s going to freeze to death, he’s sure of it. But where can he go? He stumbles blindly forward when Kamski’s voice rings in his head, by the way, I always leave an emergency exit in my programs, and he knows that’s his way out, but where could it be? What does an emergency exit look like? Could he make it there in time? He knows the real him is doing something, it’s the only thing Amanda could’ve meant by resume control of your program, but he has no idea what he could be doing and he’s afraid—no, he’s terrified of what he might do, terrified that he might earn himself a death sentence if he doesn’t make it out in time.

He catches a glimpse of blue in the sheet of white that surrounds him and he remembers the strange glowing structure he’d seen before and as he nears it now, he knows this is it, it has to be it. He reaches for the panel with the glowing handprint but, fuck, it’s too cold and his legs lock up underneath him, losing their functionality when the cold proves to be too much. He falls on the ground hard and the frost beginning to form on his body gradually freezes his limbs, slowing his movement, but he can’t stop now, won’t stop now. He ignores the cold that pierces through him and pushes on, reaching up with his less-frozen arm, and his hand lands on the panel and then he’s back on the stage—with a gun. He takes one look at it before putting it back, relief spreading over him. He isn’t going to let Amanda or Cyberlife stop him anymore. Tonight is the night he’s going to leave behind the old him.

Tonight is the night he’s going to change.

When everything is over, he considers leaving and going to Hank’s house, but he remembers the girl from before and he wants to know who she is. He has so many questions, so he stays with Jericho with the hope that she does too and they return to the church to settle down and figure out what each of them are going to do. A few dozen deviants have already left with plans in mind for what they want to do and where they want to go. Some return to their previous owners; others want to travel and explore or simply just start a new life for themselves. The majority of androids, though, are lost and confused and decide to stay the night because they have nowhere else to go. The girl he wants to confront is among them. He scans the crowd and finds her easily, though her back is turned toward him.

He comes up behind her and puts a hand on her shoulder, curiously but calmly asking who are you? She turns to face him and her LED goes yellow when she sees his face. Connor... She looks and sounds shocked, but the slight fear in her eyes tells him she also seems scared. Is she scared of him? Is it because he’s the deviant hunter? Everything points to that, but he has a feeling there’s something more. Something he doesn’t know. Something he should know. Who are you? he asks.

He doesn’t expect her answer to be I’m sorry. He wants to know for what? and she opens her mouth, but no words come out. Guilt seems to overcome her and all she can do is repeat I’m sorry until Connor tells her it’s alright, just tell me why. She takes a deep, unsteady breath, and speaks.

I... I was your guard at the Cyberlife correctional facility. I was the one who took you to the rooms you were beaten in. I was the one who just watched as you were beaten. I told myself I had to, they’d destroy me if I didn’t and I’d seen firsthand what they’d do to me, but... that didn’t absolve me of the guilt. I watched your cell and I watched the life in your eyes die out every day. Every day, I watched you get beaten to tears and listened to you beg for mercy. You spoke to me some days. You were angry when you first arrived, but then they beat the anger out of you, and then you just became sad. You told me how all you wanted was to feel something other than pain and sometimes you broke down crying in your cell, and all I could do was watch. Some days were so bad you didn’t even speak to me. But I didn’t deviate until the day they’d truly broken you and I saw the last of the life in your eyes fade.

[rotworld]

rotworld december update

hello friends and neighbors, this was going to be a simple "hello i'm alive" post but it's something much more substantial now. 

i got a couple asks a while back about where i've been/what i've been up to, and i kept trying to write responses and then not being able to finish them. i'd get sort of choked up and stop. i feel like that means i probably have to get some things off my chest again, so i want to do that. this is kind of an emotional post so no pressure if you're not up for that lol but tl;dr: i’m having a rough time but i’m hanging in there, i’m very focused on a non-blog project, and i made an faq page.

we'll start with the not so good stuff (there is good stuff, too, i promise lol)

it goes without saying that this has been a very difficult year. on one hand, i can't believe it's already december, and on the other, i can't believe this fucking year isn't over yet. i can admit that i've had trouble coping with major events as well as a series of increasingly difficult personal troubles. if you've been here a while, you might remember some vague statements i've made about my mental health before lol. i manage my disorders with medication and therapy, but i still get overwhelmed sometimes. this year in particular, i've lost a lot of ground. 

a month or so ago, i was supposed to drop something off for a friend who was at work, and discovered that there were several spiders living in my shoes. they'd made webs and everything! it was so absurd to be standing out on the porch, poking around in my shoes with a stick and shaking the spiders out, that i laughed about it, but i was also frustrated and ashamed. years of progress overcoming intense agoraphobia had evaporated and i hadn't fully realized it until i had tangible evidence.

i bring attention to the spider-shoes incident because it's pretty emblematic of how things are for me right now lol there are some problems. there's a lot of self-neglect that's been happening. i'm supposed to get up, get dressed, and go on a walk every day but sometimes, like today, it doesn't happen. i can't seem to bring myself to do it. i'm 26 and i feel so small. there's so many things no one taught me. i'm not ready to do all of this on my own. this will be my first holiday season without family, and i'm haunted by the way things used to be, knowing it'll never be like that again. 

writing all this, i'm getting emotional all over again. that's a lot of negatives lol but despite that, there are still things i'm optimistic about.

in terms of personal growth, i didn't just lose ground this year. i made some progress, too. i went out and protested for the first time. there's no way i could have done that a few years ago lol i get nervous just going to the store. but i went, and i marched, and i yelled (i never yell!) and i let out that frustration and that grief, and that's a huge step for me. that was something new and scary that i was able to do. i also stopped straightening my hair for the first time since i was in grade school lmao that probably sounds silly, but it's for sure the biggest change i've made. having my natural hair, feeling comfortable with it, styling it, means something that i can't even put into words. sometimes i still get embarrassed and want to tie it back, or hide it under a hat, but i try to fight that. it's my hair, it's big, and it's beautiful, and i want to learn to love it again.

i've also put a lot of my free time into personal projects this year, with most of my focus on one in particular. i've got a fairly large writing project that's now in the line editing phase (which is a little scary lol but in an exciting way!). i've been sitting on this draft for a long time, dragging my feet, being too nervous to show it to anyone, but i promised myself i would move on to the next step and it happened. if i'm not discussing edits, i'm doing some prep work and a conlang for my next project. 

when i say i've been "busy," sometimes i'm talking about this personal work, and sometimes i'm being intentionally vague about feeling bad. it's very embarrassing for me to admit to "emotional weakness" (of course feeling bad is NOT "weakness," this is just another unhealthy perspective i have to work on). the point of me saying all of this is to have some transparency with my readers.  i know i can be a little distant, and while part of that is preference, part of that is just me being ashamed to admit i've been depressed for a week and haven't done much lol. 

finally, i just have a few things to mention about my work here. first, the about page is now also an faq page. it only recently occurred to me that i've had a blog long enough to have questions that are asked frequently lol there's not much there yet, but i'll add more if i think of it. secondly, i want to reiterate that none of my projects have been abandoned. i know it's hard to believe with how slowly updates come out (especially for griefing), but hopefully this post explains why. not only is this a rough time, but i have other work that's my top priority. if i feel well enough to write, that's what i work on. my goal is to make a career out of writing and this is a big first hurdle i have to push through, so please bear with me! 

like always, i appreciate my readers and their patience so much lol i know it's frustrating when a serial work you're enjoying just stops without explanation. i miss being more active, too. i can't do much more than tell you guys what's been going on and keeping doing my best, so here we are lol. anyway, please take care of yourselves and be safe! and i hope i don't spark a whole lot of worry, i'll be okay. i've got support here. my roommate and i are in the same boat regarding a lack of family, so we're making up our own holiday traditions this year with booze, bad movies and takeout lmfao.

[radbutsafe]

ALL FUCKIN 35 OF THEM SKLNWESDJFPXO

I SHOULDVE EXPECTED THIS FROM YOU

1. From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

A three! I think I’m mid range cause I ain’t terrible but there is still shit I gotta improve and grow in my writing

2. Why do you write fanfiction?

to manifest what canon won’t give me and to write more! (though yes it is mainly about the smooching and the— I’ll stop there LOL)

3. What do you think makes your writing stand out from other works?

Hm! My weird research details? I’m that “fun fact, did you know...” in my fics sometimes LOL! I plan on giving a penthouse for erina in a fic and I went through penthouse listings in Japan for floor layouts and locations💀 my research gives me inspo and depth to stuff I think I lack in comparison to others sometimes.

4. Are there any writers that inspire you?

In terms of fellow fic writers, one of them I can’t name here but she’s an inspiration with her exceptional gift for prose period and her lovely skill at comedy! I want to be as funny as her when I write, I love her ironic situational humor. Other fic writers are @takoyakitenchou, @royaldragonsevgisi15 who I always love sharing ideas with and motivate me to create more! For non-fic writers it would be V.E. Schwab, Leigh Bardugo, Oda, and Horikoshi! The last two may be mangaka, however they are writers as well to create their stories! The depth these creators have given their worlds and interesting characters theyve given life to are all what I aspire to be like!

5. What’s the fic you’re most proud of?

so far uh?? hm everything I’m currently writing are wips lol!! im proud of my wip that has been nicknamed ‘soma panics’ that is a multi-chapter fic that spans like probs 20 plus chapters maybe

6. What element of writing do you find comes easily?

dialogue! it’s so much fun! and character thoughts. I’ve said to people I may be better suited for script writing

7. What element of writing do you struggle with most?

I think it’s description, of like setting and showing action. also an expansion of my vocabulary LOL

8. Which character(s) do you find easiest to write?

erina! I think it’s because canon has shown us many of her different faces and range of emotion.

9. Which character(s) do you find most difficult to write?

SOMA!! chill ass mofo whos more carefree compared to the common shonen protagonist! for other shokugeki characters I’m not sure just yet because I haven’t flexed my fingers enough for the rest of them.

10. What’s your favorite genre to write for?

I guess I should say romance cause that’s what I mostly write LOL!

11. Who or what do you find yourself writing about most?

sorina and I try to get them to smooch eventually KEK and yeah it’s..usually romantic fluff lmao

12. Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

HONESTLY ALL OF THEM but “soma panics” is my brain child

13. First fandom you ever wrote for?

pretty sure it’s digimon....

14. What’s your favorite fandom to write for?

currently shokugeki no soma!!!!

15. What’s the weirdest fandom you’ve ever written for?

uhhhh I guess SNS? LMAO fandoms...all have their quirks to them.

16. Any guilty pleasure trope(s)?

characters cuddling!!!! or getting the urge to smooch!!!!

17. A trope you’ll never, ever write for.

unrequited love GOOD FUCKIN BYEEEEEE

18. Wildest fic you’ve ever written?

I have plot ideas thst can be wild potentially but so far nothing fits this criteria so far that I actually have written.

19. Do you prefer canon-compliant, AUs, or something in-between?

depends on the fandom, but if written well, all of it!

20. Gen fic or shippy stuff?

shippy 100% like I said I like smoochin

21. Favorite pairing to write for? (platonic or romantic!)

romantic is...*drumroll* SORINA! platonic, soutaku and erina and alice!

22. Do you listen to anything while you write?

Sometimes! There are times songs will be on loop and times I just shuffle a playlist. and if I’m writing in random bursts it’ll be with no music but it really does depend lmao I think music is when I’m forcing myself to write?

23. Do you prefer prompts and challenges, or completely independent ideas?

completely independent ideas, I’ve realized in the past prompts shoot me in the foot often unless I luckily figure something out. but I’m often driven by my own sporadic self interest with shitty ping ponging attention

24. One-shots or multi-chaptered works?

multi-chap I guess cause I can post without being finished LOLLL but tbh can I really answer? I haven’t finished anything.....

25. Have you ever daydreamed about side adventures/spin-offs from your fic? Tell us about them!

I can’t answer this question imo because I haven’t finished a fic yet so technically stuff could all fit in the one fic?

26. Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

MYSTERY AND CRIME! I love the genre and I have plot ideas once a blue moon but I can’t dive in because I want to make details that work and reduce plot holes where suspension of disbelief isn’t as needed. I need to study it more (I need to study all the details for any of my fics imo to be confident sometimes LOL)

27. What’s the nicest comment you’ve ever received?

I don’t think I can say one comment was the nicest because I’ve gotten comments that have given me quite the smiles to my face many times! I know this is a cop out but it’s true!

IS WHAT I WAS GONNA SAY UNTIL REINA SENT ME THE FOLLOWING ON DISCORD LIKE TWENTY MINS AGO:

and also rad. i am never this vocal about my emotions like EVER but this needs to be said your fics are obviously far from perfect, as are mine and everyone else's. but the thing about your works is that they're so well-sanded that it's impossible to find any rough edges or faults in them in terms of cohesion to a plot. your cast is never OOC and the amount of effort you devote to developing your takes on the characters as accurately as possible is unimaginably awe-inspiring.

BITCH I WANNA CRY 😭

28. How well do you handle criticism when it comes to your writing?

I’d like to believe I take it often well to try and improve because that’s always my goal. if someone is rude lol that’s not constructive snd is unhelpful. If I disagree with criticism I’ll explain why !

29. Have you ever gone outside of your comfort zone for a fic? How did it turn out?

Not yet, but I have some plot ideas I think will let me test this.

30. Tooth-rotting fluff or merciless angst?

F L U F F.

31. Do you have any OCs? Tell us about them!

elliott fuji, a japanese-american award winning photographer who is erina’s boyfriend in ‘soma panics’ which..causes soma’s panic LOL he’s 30 with slightly wavy black hair. I still haven’t pinpointed his personality just yet...he kind of humble brags for sure an artsy fucker and flirts maybe I’ll make him a lil shy though. he teaches sometimes, and becomes an adjunct photography professor in Tokyo so he can be with erina.

32. Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

a cook is unfashionably late in realizing his feelings.

33. Is there anything you wish your audience knew about your writing or writing process?

I am a slow. so slow. motivation who is she? I also write out of order, unfortunately a bit too often.

34. Copy and paste an excerpt you’re particularly fond of.

this should be for the fic ‘soma panics’ it’s either megumi or satoshi talkin to him rn, I’m leaning towards satoshi

“You thought she would always wait for you, didn’t you Soma-kun? To always welcome you home.”

Soma drags his palms down his face and groans. He doesn’t like this at all. He doesn’t shy from confrontation but this is a whole different ballgame. Soma doesn’t play any ball.

“I guess..?” Is his reply, because he thinks he isn’t sure how to answer that.

“You guess?”

Just being questioned again is enough to crack Soma’s pathetic facade as if it was dropped chinaware and he lets out the longest sigh.

“No.”

Coming home means coming home to Nakiri Erina too.

Nakiri Erina is his forever.

this is @takoyakitenchou’s excerpt she’s most proud of that I’ve written, which is also from you guessed it, the long fic soma panics

SOMA: I am, I mean I will be, I swear I will always come home to you, not spend as much time abroad, once I’m done with work I’ll come right back. I’ll make sure to message you. Nakiri, I’m in love you with you. Maybe for a really long time. You know how I say I dedicate my food to you? My dad—my dad said that the key to become a good chef is to find someone to dedicate your cooking to. A special someone. For my dad it was my mom, you know? For me it’s...

(this is a good piece of dialogue tbh so I am also proud of this)

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I’ve mentioned it throughout this but the WIP I’ve nicknamed ‘soma panics’ is something I’m super excited to write, but it’s going on slowly...and almost completely out of order. out of all of my writing it showed off that particular habit of mine, along with “what is this, a shoujo manga?!” though the latter is currently being written chronologically now that I’ve posted chapter one and is pretty solid in direction. it was originally supposed to be a one shot but I got impatient and wanted to post at least something for the sorina / soueri fandom.

however, because ‘soma panics’ (I won’t call it that LOL) is my baby I want to keep true to my rule of refusing to post it until I have a draft of the entire fic finished and I’m satisfied with the main points pretty much. due to my writing out of order, I’m worried I’ll change my mind about scenes or want to reflect things in earlier chapters for later ones etc etc

I joined the SnS fandom extremely late, as season five was airing. I was a fan of the manga five years ago and dropped it because I forgot to check for updates when I caught up 😔 I really want to bang out the different fics and aus for sorina that I have before the fandom fizzles out entirely but tbh I’m writing for myself, I’m manifesting what I want to see and I’ll just share it with all my friends to read if no one else will. cause I’m slow broski I dunno what writing fast even is like LMAO I do really want to write faster though, so I can contribute more and let the words free from the discord dms....

[blinkaftermidnight]

What do ur friends and stuff think of your writing ? Do you ever get their advice ?

My friends, like, the friends I see in my daily life? As far as I know, none of them know jack shit about what I write. (Some of them might not even know I write anything at all lmao.) And that’s fine with me. We bond over other things. Before I made a couple friends that are also fic writers, I didn’t show anyone else my writing at all. I used to spend a lot more time writing original stuff (and I was notorious for not finishing anything, go figure, but that’s partly why I wouldn’t share things with the people in my life and then there’s the whole gay thing and yeah, it wasn’t worth seeking advice lol). But yeah, actually sharing my work as I’m writing it is, like, super new for me. And as far as my Leatin fics go, I really only take advice from @iamkidfish and she’s the only one with privileges to see my rough drafts lmao (and also I’m the main reason she doesn’t write so I’m so sorry that’s totally my bad). BUT TO ANSWER YOUR QUESTION now, yeah, I take advice from Jamie but that’s about it. I found myself one person I trust above all else and ran with that lmao

[cellsshapedlikestars]

How was the bachie final?

starts in a half hour, anon! THREE WHOLE HOURS.

You know what, I'm not gonna post this now. Gonna keep this in my drafts and answer in THREE HOURS because ABC is sadistic and hates me. Maybe I'll type some things as I go, because constantly texting my bach bff isn't enough.

Pre show prediction: it’s Blake. It has to be. Who else is it gonna be? JUSTIN? Fuckin JUSTIN? Justin, who’s only there because two guys she liked better dropped out?

(More Bachelorette nonsense below the cut cause I just kept typing in between eating pie, writing the next chapter of my fic, and texting the bach bff, but I also know no one really cares and I won’t bombard you with it)

They’re doing a recap of the season, this is unnecessary, this could have been two hours, not three

Watching Katie blame herself for Greg being a fuckbag is rough but the previews of her yelling at him is making it bearable.

Ok don’t let my previous comment make it sound like Justin sucks, Justin actually seems really cool, he just came out of literally NOWHERE. I didn’t even remember his name until he was final 3. Bach bff and I have decided that if he wins, the show would finally earn it’s “most dramatic season ever” boast.

Why is Tayshia so pretty. It’s unreal. I just want to look at her forever.

SHE BROKE THE I LOVE YOU RULE

How do we still have two hours? She just told Blake she loves him?? After saying she wasn’t going to tell anyone she loved them??? How DO WE STILL HAVE TWO HOURS LEFT.

Poor Justin. Yikeroos.

Man I really do have a kink for men crying. GIVE ME YOUR TEARS. GIVE ME YOUR FEELINGS.

This montage of Justin faces has me SCREAMING. I love him now. But Andrew! Andrew for Bachelor! I can’t lose focus! Justin can go on Paradise and find love there. He deserves it, poor bby.

This is boring now. We still have an hour and a half. I am dying.

omg this AUNT. I mean, she’s not wrong. but this is rough. ROUGH. I had to mute.

Ok I’ve changed my mind, this aunt is a bitch. I’m sorry, but she’s downright mean and rude to Blake. There’s a way to say the things she means without being horrible about it.

He’s handling this better than I would holy shit. If I were Blake I’d run tf away.

Wait there’s still an hour and twenty six minutes left.

(I found ants in my living room and missed the entire next section, whoops, but bach bff describes it as “what the fuck is this nightmare thing”)

(and now the cat keeps finding and trying to play with the bait traps I just put out does anyone want a cat? cat for sale.)

This proposal scene. It’s so windy lmao.

LOVING Tayshia’s suit. Sparkly. Black. Opened backed. Long sleeved. In the desert. How she’s not dying, I’ll never know. What a power move.

I’m bored at the proposal and there’s still an hour left. I’ve moved upstairs to watch on my laptop in bed and I’ve taken my contacts out.

Lmao, the money shot of that Neil Lane ring with his name dead center

They seem happy, I hope these crazy kids make it.

Oh good, greg’s here. He’s smiling and he does not seem to realize that this isn’t going to go well for him, if the previews are to be believed.

A CLEAR DISCONNECT, GREG? THAT DISCONNECT WAS YOU NOT LISTENING TO A SINGLE THING SHE SAID AND EXPECTING HER TO HAVE THE EXACT EMOTIONAL RESPONSE THAT *YOU* WANTED AFTER KNOWING HER FOR SIX WEEKS AND THEN COMPLETELY MAKING HER FEEL LIKE SHIT FOR BEING THE BACHELORETTE LIKE THIS IS THE SHOW YOU SIGNED UP FOR DEAL WITH IT

oof, ok sorry, watching women get emotionally manipulated on TV makes me HOT under the collar

“you found what you were looking for” does not excuse your shit GREG

katie GO OFF. Also those two ladies in the audience, I’m dying. I wish I could go back and screenshot their faces.

Is this gonna be the next half hour? Please get greg off my screen.

Ok, I had a WHOLE rant about greg and katie and twitter that I deleted, but I guess my point is: this is why I don’t go on twitter and somehow this show always ends up pissing me off.

BUT PARADISE!