#I wrote it completely with my phone

[thedreamerstoryteller]

YOU SHOULD TASTE IT BEFORE SAYING YOU DON'T LIKE IT

FROM THE STORY:

<<Have you ever tried it?>> Li Xiangyi asked.

<<No>> he answered without hesitation.

<<Then how can you say that, you should taste it before saying you don't like it>> the former physician replied turning more toward his rival, a light smile on his face. He had used the same tone he usually used with Fang Xiaobao to convince him to do something or not to do something, based on the circumstances. The two were similar even for what concerned his habits of eating candy. However Fang Xiaobao, so naive and young, was easier to deceive and to convince.

A-Fei looked at him for a while before answering.

<<You're right>> he agreed <<Let me taste it>> he said before bringing a hand under his chin and guiding his mouth on his own.

Li Xiangyi was firstly taken aback and stiffened. A-Fei kissed him delicately, he felt his tongue brushing his lips and he parted them relaxing.

A-Fei deepened the kiss exploring his mouth. He kept a hand under his chin and held him against himself with the other one. He was warm and Li Xiangyi melted under his touch and kiss. A-Fei stopped kissing him just before he could lose his grip on the book that was about to slip from his hand.

IN OTHER WORDS:

Li Xiangyi likes eating candies and Di Feisheng who has never eaten a candy in his life finds an alternative way to taste it thank to him. 🍬

LINK:

[overtake]

5. Flushed Cheeks?

This got a bit long (2.9k), so you can also find it on AO3 instead of having to read it on here! This is a tennis AU I started ages ago, and this prompt finally gave me the motivation to finish.

Daniel’s skin is still damp from ice baths and sweat-soaked towels when Max catches him.

“Nice win,” he says.

It wasn’t a nice win. It was hard-fought and ugly to the final serve. Daniel could feel his age reverberating through every joint and muscle. He knew Max was watching with laser precision, carefully noting every time Daniel’s face twisted in pain as he lunged for a shot. He’ll have studied the match five times over before finals, preparing to systematically rip Daniel apart on court and expose all his faulty wiring.

Still, it was a win.

“Thanks,” Daniel says, and doesn’t return the compliment. It’d just delay the real point of this conversation. “Coming over?”

“You’re coming over,” Max corrects. He drops the serious competitor facade and breaks into one of his crinkly-eyed smiles. “My room is nicer.”

He hasn’t seen Daniel’s, but they both know it’s true.

Without Daniel having to ask, Max hands over a bottle of water as soon as Daniel falls into the pillows. It’s that in between kind of temperature you only get from a hotel fridge — enough condensation to call it chilled, but not cold enough that it feels like you’re freezing the inside of your chest cavity with a long sip.

Max plops down on the bed, already in nothing but a too-long shirt and briefs, and heaves his head onto Daniel’s lap. His overgrown hair tickles along his thighs where Daniel’s shorts have ridden up, dark blond against the tattoos peeking out from underneath.

Daniel swallows a few sips, then leans over to put the bottle on the hotel carpet. Max makes a cute, disgruntled noise and separates himself from Daniel to lie on his side.

When Daniel lays back down, he puts himself nose-to-nose with Max. The lights are dimmed, but he can still see the sweet freckle dotting the top of Max’s lip. He leans in to kiss it once, twice, three times, until they’re just kissing.

Max subtly grinds himself against Daniel’s thigh, and Daniel slips a hand underneath back of Max’s shirt and tucks Max’s body in tighter against his. He closes the last inch of space between his front and Max’s torso, then pushes his leg tight to Max’s groin until he can feel his dick pressed against him.

“These are in the way,” Max says, his fingers lightly tugging at the waistband of Daniel’s shorts.

Daniel’s brain isn’t online enough to respond to the tease with words, but he moves his hand back enough to tug at the material.

“No,” Max says, gripping Daniel’s wrist hard enough to leave temporary red marks, exactly how he likes. “Let me.”

He extricates himself from between Daniel’s legs and waits for Daniel to turn his back toward him, then begins to shimmy off Daniel's clothes. Max slowly trails kisses down the expanse of Daniel’s spine, lingering an excruciatingly long time at his tailbone.

The hotel air conditioning is forming goosebumps on his exposed skin and Max is rubbing the outline of his dick against Daniel’s ass instead of his thighs when Daniel decides to speak up. Now that the promise of Max’s cock is right there, he wants nothing more than to feel the tip push inside him, maybe even filling him up all the way. Based on the wrist grab, Max is likely up for more labour-intensive sex.

Daniel tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but he knows Max can read right through it. “I’m up for it if you are.”

Max hums, separating enough to grab a handful of Daniel’s ass. He whines at the sudden loss of Max’s hard-on against him.

“It’s early enough in the night,” Max muses. “We’ve got the time.” He takes his hand off then, leaving Daniel’s body entirely. In one fluid motion, Max flips Daniel onto his back so they’re face-to-face again, Max hovering over him with a calculated expression.

“Even before a final?” Max asks. Daniel nods.

Max moves a hand up Daniel’s stomach, outlining his ribcage. Daniel retaliates in kind, zig-zagging his fingers across Max’s torso above him and finally landing at his nipple. After a second of contemplation, he twists the pink bud.

Max let out a shuddering breath. His nipples are remarkably sensitive, especially exposed to the cold of the room and being the only area stimulated by Daniel’s touch. Because he's not a total dick, Daniel lavishes his mouth over the area after, sucking softly until the nipple is pebbled in his mouth, then moves to put a purple mark at the juncture of Max’s shoulder and neck.

“Daniel, are you sure?” Max checks again, soft and sweet. The Max above him right now is unrecognizable from the equally hot, very intense Max who will face him tomorrow.

“I’m starting to think you don’t want to,” Daniel teases. He licks Max’s cheek, revels in the little scrunched nose it earns him, then turns himself over. As much as he likes to soak in Max’s expressive face and rosy cheeks, he can’t do that tonight. He can’t have Max’s wet, teary eyelashes from sex at the top of mind when he watches beads of tennis sweat soak them instead.

Daniel sees Max’s clothes land on the other side of the bed, then hears the rip of a condom packet. That’s when he twists his body around, briefly admiring the broad outline of Max behind him before returning to the real issue. “Do we have to?”

Max pauses, a little uncertain.

“We’ll shower anyway.” Daniel pauses, bites his lip, and says fuck it. “And I’ve really only been with you.” It’s damning to admit, and scarier still that Max might not say the same.

Max’s face relaxes into something Daniel can’t quite identify. Contentment, maybe, written into the tiny curls at the corners of his mouth. He doesn’t say anything, but he chucks the condom to the floor, and it’s as good as a confession to Daniel.

Daniel faces the wooden headboard and adjusts his body so his ass is higher in the air and more accessible to his Max’s fingers.

The lube cap is the next sound, then the cold touch of lube against his hole. Max used to warm it up for Daniel carefully, pampering him because he knows Daniel hates the cold, until Daniel admitted he likes the temperature difference sometimes - the shock of cold lube versus Max’s warm heat that follows.

Max doesn’t hesitate, immediately sinking in one finger, then two. He takes pleasure in this part, ensuring he crooks his fingers at all the right angles that make Daniel squirm. He always preps Daniel more than is strictly necessary, because Daniel’s a baby about pain, and Max enjoys the way Daniel fidgets and moves on Max’s fingers.

“Can we make this quicker?” Daniel asks, desperate now that he finally has some of the stimulation he’s been craving. To his dismay, it only makes Max’s fingers drag more slowly inside him, stroking him with increasing patience.

”Max,” he whines again. This time, it earns him no fingers. Max pulls them out and swats lightly at Daniel’s ass.

“Behave,” Max orders him. He probably means to sound a little stern, but the amused fondness in his tone stops it from spilling into something sexier, more dominant. He’s too delighted in his teasing.

He begins playing with Daniel’s hole again. One finger this time, which feels like it’s intended as a cruel punishment for Daniel’s begging. He keeps his mouth shut this time, opting to accept what Max gives him instead of making a scene.

Quickly, Max adds back more fingers until he finally brushes them against Daniel’s prostate and earns himself a loud moan. Daniel doesn’t have to twist around to know there’s a satisfied smirk lining Max’s face.

Max pulls his fingers out. Daniel sees his hand reaching again for the lube. The hairs that creep onto his hand are now dark and slick with lube.

“Are you good?” Max asks one more time. The bottle lets out a little farting noise, and Daniel laughs, replicates it with his own mouth until Max giggles too.

“Very good,” Daniel confirms, wiggling his ass closer to Max’s body.

“Eager,” Max says. The less-lubed fingers reach around to tweak at Daniel’s nipples. Daniel stops them, pushing up off an elbow to redirect the path. Instead of letting Max’s hand cup his pecs, he draws them into his mouth and begins sucking.

He forgot to take out his retainer, he realizes in that moment, as Max’s fingers hit hard plastic instead of the roof of his mouth. Max’s fingers run along the edges of it, tracing the shape of his protected teeth before he pulls out his spit-soaked fingers.

“You’re obsessed with that retainer,” Max says. The laughter is gone from his tone. He just sounds strained now, like the effort of keeping his dick anywhere but inside Daniel’s body is causing him physical pain.

“Are we seriously talking about my teeth right now?” Daniel asks.

“Pushy, pushy.” Max moves his hand down to still Daniel’s hips and wrap his pale fingers around the tan, sharp lines of it. He presses tip of his cock against Daniel’s hole. Daniel can feel it now, slowly being guided inside until just the head is resting there, waiting to be pushed forward.

“Aren’t you going to say please?” Max asks.

Daniel lifts his head from where he’s buried it into the pillow. “Fuck you,” he says, clearly and loudly.

Max’s laugh turns into stuttered breaths when he finally pushes in.

Max always knows exactly how to angle himself inside Daniel. Their rhythms are in perfect harmony, slowing and speeding up without either of them needing to say a word. Daniel can read exactly when Max gets closer, and Daniel stops the lazy strokes over his dick to begin a more rapid pace.

“Inside me,” Daniel orders when he senses Max is about to ask. “Please.”

Max comes with a groan, burying his teeth in Daniel’s shoulder to muffle the noise. Daniel wants to beg to hear every one, but it’s too late. Max is already gently pulling out from Daniel, carefully adjusting Daniel’s hips to limit the amount of come that’s dripping from him, trailing down his legs, and dotting the sheets.

Daniel wishes, insanely, that he could preserve Max’s come inside him forever, decorating his insides like an art exhibit dedicated to the godly way Max fucks him. He imagines lifting the trophy after sweating off the remaining traces of Max’s come on his thighs. He pictures falling to his knees in triumph, winning his final Wimbledon in a blaze of glory, and Max angrily fucking his throat right there on the court.

He spills into his hand before Max even has a chance to touch him.

He and Max wake up face to face. The tip of his nose rests in the M-shaped line of Max’s upper lip.

It’s a rather unusual wake-up position for them. It’s all down to a science, this routine. Normally, they have to wait for an alarm. Daniel will groan, roll over from the edge of the bed, and shake at Max’s freckled shoulder. He’ll usually makes some funny face at Max just to see him huff out an exhausted laugh, and then he’ll bury his head into Max’s chest for another five minutes as Max plays with his hair or etches nonsense words into his spine.

When one of them reaches dangerous snoozing territory, Daniel will sit up enough to disrupt them and force Max into the shower. Max will always goes first, because they learned from experience that Daniel showering first means Max just falls back asleep.

It’s a constant for them at tournaments, especially when one of them makes a final round. Occasionally, when Daniel is in a different country and sleep escapes him, he calls Max and lays his phone beside him on the bed. Sometimes they talk, but usually they just rest alongside each other until Daniel falls asleep. It’s not the same as waking up to Max’s groggy eyes and tousled hair, but the soothing repetition of his soft snores is as familiar as breathing.

Today, there’s time. Light is only just beginning to soak through the half-closed curtains.

He reaches out, stalling his hand right over Max’s pronounced cheekbone until he confirms that Max’s breath remains sleep-steady. He trails a path down his face until it finds the collarbone peeking out from the too-large shirt that Max must have thrown on in the night.

Max’s long lashes flutter open, sandy eye crusts bordering sea blue. Daniel pulls his hand back then, clutching it to his chest. He still feels the tingles racing across his knuckles, burning memories of the warm cheek pressed against the outside of his hand. The flushed face, the piece of hair that fell inside the small crack between the gaps of his fingers and the warmth of Max’s sleep-puffy face. Max brushes that tuft from where it sticks to his forehead.

“Your hand is sweaty,” Max says in a raspy voice, lazily reaching out his own until he wraps it around the delicate bones of Daniel’s wrists and pulls the offending limb back to his pillow-creased face anyway.

“Your face made my hand sweaty,” Daniel retorts. Max just rolls his eyes and shoves at Daniel’s chest a tiny bit. It’s true, though. Max always keeps the room warm for Daniel when he sleeps over, even though it sometimes makes his shirts damp with sweat.

Max lazily blinks at him with half-asleep eyes, and Daniel knows he only has seconds to get him before Max is back in dreamland. He squeezes his eyes shut so he doesn't have to examine every minute expression on Max's face when he makes this admission.

“This is my last Wimbledon. Last major at all, probably. My physio doesn’t want me to play, but I’d rather hobble around a bit than leave without beating you one last time.”

“Are you telling me this so I’ll go easy on you?” Max’s tone is light, teasing. He knows how to perfectly land this banter on the tightly strung tennis strings of Daniel’s anxious brain. Daniel would be resentful and bitter if Max tried to throw it for real - not that he ever would. Max cares too much about winning to sacrifice himself for anyone.

“Hmmm,” Daniel fake contemplates, tapping his hand on the blades of Max’s sunburnt shoulders. He never wears enough sunscreen, even this many years into his career. “Maybe just forget how to return a backhand for a few sets, and we’ll call that good.”

“Would probably be a fair exchange for the soreness,” Max says. He traces his finger down Daniel’s spine until he reaches Daniel’s ass and lightly kneads at the muscles.

“Yeah. If I lose today, be sure to tell the press it’s only because you fucked me so well, not because I suck.”

“Do you ever think about it?” Max asks after a pause. “Not telling them, because it’s of course not their business, but maybe not hiding it?”

Daniel isn’t sure what exactly he means — Daniel’s sexuality or their relationship, however much they dance around precisely defining it — but the answer is mostly the same either way.

“I guess it doesn’t really matter if they know once I’m retired and never have to do an interview again.”

Max smiles into Daniel’s pec. “Going to hide on the farm forever?” 

“It’s not hiding if you know where I am.” 

“Do you still have the dirt bikes?” 

Daniel thinks of Max drenched in Australia's golden sun at 23 — his smile blinding as he took the bikes over jumps with the same ease he uses to swing a racquet. He'd spent days inventing funny backstories for the cows, befriending the evil poodle at the nearest grocery store who Daniel swears is plotting to chomp off his leg, and diving off a boat into the ocean with reckless abandon. He’d taken enormous glee in teasing Daniel from his spot in the water. Daniel always dipped a toe in and searched for anything that could kill him before he jumped.

Max hasn’t been back in the years since, but Daniel sometimes imagines Max in the mundane parts of his long, lazy days at home and subconsciously reaches out to find him in all the places he should be.

Daniel finally meets Max's eyes again. There's nothing bad there. He sees no upset or judgment or frustration, none of the things he feared but should've known Max is too inherently good to feel. “There’s a dirt bike for you any time you want,” he promises. “Plus, Monaco would miss me if I didn’t come back for a friendly match with you every so often.” 

Max presses a gentle kiss over the tan skin where he rests his chin. Daniel holds him tight to his chest, and they fall back asleep in the last dregs of morning. Daniel dreams of the ball popping between them: sweet touches turned into death grips on their racquets; orgasmic moans shifted into effortful grunts.

If Daniel squints, he can see the faintest edge of purple at the collar of Max’s white shirt. He doesn’t let his gaze linger. He shifts into position, adjusts his hands along the bumpy outlines of tape, and matches Max’s hard, determined stare.

The ball slams into play with a loud pop, and they both smile.

[eyestrain-addict]

I just realized why lestat marked Tom, like the big stupid idiot I am

(I know everyone else probably already figured this out, but this is MY blog and I get to post whatever deranged thought crosses my pea brained mind.)

When I watched that scene in episode 5 where they're at the bar talking to Tom, I was confused as to why exactly. Why does Lestat mark Tom? If he's marked to kill, why does he wait almost 2 decades later? Well I realized, as all realizations come, in the shower.

Lestat has been planning on killing Tom the whole time.

(Warning before you click read more, this post is a lot longer than I first intended holy fuck)

Well not the whole time. Just right when Louis realized that Anderson and Fenwick had screwed him over. Maybe even longer if he knew it was a trick ("ridiculous of you to mix human and vampire business it always ends poorly"). Notice how he's upset with louis when he kills the guy who's microaggressive with him, cus lestat wasn't there (even if he was there I have my doubts Lestat would understand microaggressions, but he would have definitely killed him for touching Louis.) But tells Louis he's proud of him for killing Alderman. I think this has to be because he witnessed the disrespect first hand. He didn't give a fuck about the money, what he DID care about was that those two disrespected not only him, but Louis.

Even with Lestats little understanding of race relations of the time in America, he did understand hierarchys. He's from 1700s France for God's sake. It's no coincidence wanted to be king of mardi gras. Lestat came to New Orleans and saw himself as the king, even if no one knew it. And he wanted Louis to be his queen. Honestly I could make an entire other post about how Lestat almost literally saw himself as if he was a King and Louis his beloved Queen, which is why he thought it was okay for him to sleep with other women (mistresses and playthings of the king should mean nothing compared to the queen in lestats eyes) but that's getting off topic. I only bring that up because I'm trying to paint a picture of how I think Lestat sees disrespect done to Louis. To him that goes beyond disrespect or rudeness, it's irreverence.

You begin to notice if you watch scenes with them together. Because while I wouldn't say lestat is good at controlling his anger, he's definitely great at concealing it until it erupts (props to Sam Reid have to be given here) lestat is always on the verge of fury when talking to Tom. It starts as a distaste then as he begins to fall more in love with Louis and become more protective of him, his anger builds. Claudia was wrong about one thing, it was no petty slight that was the reason Lestat killed Tom first, it was a loooonng time coming.

I could list every detail I think supports this but I'm sure you get the gist by now. My main point is really the layer of complexity this adds to not only the story, the characters, but also lestat and louis' relationship. Consider it for a second, Lestat saw all his violence as justified, everything he did one can see it through the lense of him punishing the disrespectful (take a shot every time I say disrespect in this post jesus christ). "I bring death to those deserving" indeed. Lestat has a god complex out the wazoo, and every attack, torture, and death he caused was righteous to him and thus enjoyable. Louis on the other hand didn't see himself so highly. He may seem confident but if you look through the cracks it's apparent Louis's self worth in near nonexistent and he's horribly insecure. I think lestat thought when Louis was made a vampire he would see himself as Lestat saw himself, and as Lestat saw Louis. But again, another post for another time.

Despite Louis' insecurities (or perhaps because of them) louis revels in the violence lestat commits for his sake. That's probably why louis is so quick to forgive lestat about the priests. For a brief moment Lestat truly said the truth to Louis and Louis could forgive him because of it. As lestat says, he doesn't kill the priests to intimidate Louis, nor does he do it just because he enjoys it. He does it because he sees them as humiliating Louis, charlatans that don't deserve Louis' sorrow. Louis didn't want the priest's to die, but he could understand why lestat killed them, simply because for once in his goddamn life lestat told the truth, and louis loved that truth. That truth being that lestat killed and mutilated and committed such horrors not just because he liked it, but because he did it out of a fucked up sense of protection. Him killing the priests was essentially a knight killing a dragon to earn the princess' hand in marriage.

The worst part is that Lestat doesn't even realize it. Not fully anyway. Let's be honest with ourselves, lestat doesn't understand Louis. Obviously there's the race, background, culture differences that lestat doesn't understand nor seems inclined to try, but there are better posts about that made by smarter people than moi. I'm mostly talking about lestat doesn't understand louis' mind itself (louis' mind in a vacuum I suppose you could say) he understands Louis' desire for violence sure, but he doesn't understand the core of that want. Honestly I'm on the fence of if he ever understood that Louis loved it when lestat was protective in the first place. I guess it can be dumbed down to Louis wants Lestat to kill to protect Louis and to protect the family (and anyone who deeply disrepects them), lestat perhaps understood a little at one point, but since he sees everyone as a threat and everything is a slight to him, he has no trouble and qualms with delighting in the torture of people Louis views as innocent. Louis' heart is a bit dark, but ultimately human, so he's disgusted by lestats violence towards the undeserving. Lestat can no longer read Louis' mind and even if he could, Louis doesn't quite understand the difference himself (that's why he tries to hunt for criminals briefly) so the cracks of miscommunication starts to form, and neither of them even realize there is miscommunication.

Therein lies the importance of Tom Anderson for season 1. Not much of a character, more of a plot device in human skin. Claudia can see that Lestat hates him, but doesn't understand why, nor does she care to get to the depths of that. (*Mr house voice* understandable) I think it's notable that Louis rarely brought him up, he didn't understand the depths of lestats love. Nor did he know about Lestats 3 decade long grudge, all because Tom disrespected Louis.

Now I'm not excusing Lestat's actions, I just think it's interesting how this one throwaway character reveals a whole level of complexity to the relationship between him and Louis, and better sheds light on not only Lestats personal philosophy but louis' as well. Even Claudia to a degree.

Anyway, uh. End of essay. Bye.

[astrobei]

been working on exes fic again

[wanderingmind867]

Everyone knows the pina colada song written by rupert holmes, but like a year or two ago (I don't remember time exactly), i ended up listening to the whole song (plus pretty much the entire album it was a part of). The songs are all really good, and we don't talk about rupert holmes the songwriter enough. Even the pina colada song is a song about a married couple who lose their spark, but regain their love for each other through an attempted affair. I can't explain as well as the song itself does. But you know, the lyrics are powerful.

I like when songs do that. When they tell stories and paint pictures and all of that. It makes them feel more intense, sometimes. A lot of older music did that (i'm not saying it doesn't happen now, of course. I'm just saying i notice it more in older 60s, 70s and 80s music). You get songs from people like rupert holmes or billy joel or whatever, and the lyrics manage to touch my emotions. If a song can make you feel something... then i'd say it's been written pretty well.

[tartarduck]

words about tot chapter 9

Gave myself a solid day to stew in my thoughts about ch9 and I just want to say that mihoyo is EVIL for timing it right before the anniversary. I don't know if I can be happy knowing Luke is suffering all alone in every conceivable universe other than his personal story/card timeline.

Point 1: How the chapter explored Luke's feelings of guilt for... Existing I guess?

I've been eagerly awaiting the reveal of Luke's survivor's guilt. The whole [wanting spirits to exist so he can at least apologise, or do SOMETHING, but knowing they don't] is such exquisite angst. I'm very happy they took the effort to write it in (though fortune tellers actually scare me in real life).

And now onto the related Point 2: Luke's feelings of guilt for literally everything else

I was reading through Luke's birthday greetings, and realised how often he calls himself greedy for literally wanting anything. God damn, SHE IS YOUR GIRLFRIEND IT'S NOT GREEDY OF YOU TO WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH HER --

That aside, it comes back to the theme of Luke Pearce's thought process, which in my brain goes a little something like this:

Good thing happens -> I do not deserve this

Bad thing happens -> It is completely my fault and no one else's

Which, might I add, vaguely reminded me of something from a lecture I forgot from my psych undergrad years. I'm worried for you, Luke. Please, Dr Yishmir, refer him to one of your colleagues for mental health.

In his personal 'route', he finally starts to come around with the idea that sometimes bad things... just happen and it's no one's fault (thank you, strategically placed rainbow in iridescent heartbeat). But in the main story? He's been feeling guilty ever since he saw MC after avoiding her for YEARS. There's no Aaron meddling with the two of them, or MC helping him clean his mess of a house to kick-start a card story. This is the man who hid in the attic after sending his confession after a YEAR of dates with MC -- the main story doesn't even give him a chance to start forgiving himself.

Basically, Luke Pearce is a mess in the main story, because everything that makes him un-messy happens by pure chance.

Point 3: Luke's black and white thinking of good and bad

One of the highlights of this chapter for me was Luke's anecdote about him faking a cold so MC would go out with her other friends and forget about him. Now, that's all well and good until he compares himself to the mum with Munchausen's syndrome, who is the closest thing we get to a 'villain' in this chapter. On top of his guilt, this whole I'm either a good or completely bad person mindset is really not doing favours for his mental health.

His anecdote also happens to be an interesting parallel to shape of you, because I remember Luke specifically wished to be forgotten in that card. He wants what's best for MC (because he thinks that he's taking everyone's love from her) but he also wants something for himself. And because he doesn't believe he's able to do both, but also because he isn't able to let go of his 'selfishness' sometimes, he thinks he's an awful person.

And now, to the last to do in my rant agenda.

Point 4: what happens in chapter 12. (Spoilers for CN server, but only about the Luke scene)

1. Ohmygod. He's going to run away. I can't see main story Luke NOT blaming himself for nearly hurting the MC. In whichever timeline, his priority is to keep her safe, and god, if he thinks he's a danger to her, the only way to keep her safe would be by disappearing again.

2. I'm going to read too much into this but MC trying to get Luke to recognise her while she's being pinned to the ground is such delectable angst. He's always worried that she'd forget about him -- whether it was the 8 years or literally just hanging out with other kids at school. But here she is, in a situation where he's essentially forgotten about her. The voice that my brain concocted up for MC was extra desperate in that scene.

Anyway, that's all I had to say about the recent main story developments in ToT. Keep the angst coming, writing staff. What a power move to send this out right before anniversary on BOTH servers. If there's anything I've taken away from this, it's that Luke stans are absolutely unhinged. Twitter circle people, I see you requesting more angst. How can we get even angstier than Luke nearly hurting MC while he's dressed in the outfit that he wears for his proposal card ??

[evansbby]

This is WAY too much information and I am sorry but basically

[ovenproofowl]

Bottom of the Food Chain

The appetite goes first.

No one ever gets that part right. Easy to write off as a million other things. Sickness, stress, change in the wind. Doesn't matter. Point is, food no longer means anything to you.

Probably for the best. Means you can spend more time doing stuff, right? Skip breakfast every day, no need to sit down for lunch. The evening just flies by.

And then you're back.

No need for water, either. Y'know, that basic human right that everyone squabbles over? Not you. Not anymore. Now there's no need for bathroom breaks. You count that as a win, you can never find anywhere private here, anyway. There's always a cubicle closed for one reason or another.

Sometimes you hear whimpering through the cracks.

You don't sleep anymore. Maybe it's the stress.

Nights are wide open now, so they call you in. Extra dosh, shifts wide open that no one else has the right mind to take. But your mind is just right. Ever since you stopped eating.

There's others like you, that's the thing. No one talks about them, those crazy zombie idiots who take 18 hour shifts just to feel alive. Must be snorting a line on the side to power them through, but it's a big company and if the CEOs can do it, who's stopping the little guy?

You sometimes check the mirror just to make sure your face is still there. Been a while since you've felt it. All the muscles have gone numb. You prod and poke at your sagging skin, practically sloughing off bone.

Someone's crying in the cubicle behind you.

Well, the toilet still needs to be used for something, you suppose.

Time's gone all weird. All craggy around the edges. How long have you been here, really? What decades have slipped by past your notice? You're still the same. Can’t eat, can't sleep, but hey, you look good. Bones so prominent it could be Botox, but you don't have the cash to burn on that, no matter how many hours you work.

You work every hour. Home's a distant memory. Friends and family are long gone, left behind or aged out of their skin. Sounds like a personal problem. You don't discuss those anymore, not since the crying moved behind the walls.

Time's no longer kind to you. It happens to us all, eventually. But you were meant to be different. The perfect machine.

You're malfunctioning. We all do. Don't be so hard on yourself.

They don't want you near the execs. Soon, the smell is too much for even their expensive cologne to disguise. They put you on the phoneline for a while, conveniently out of sight, right until your jawbone snaps off and your tongue lolls out and sputters.

No voice, no worries, they can still make use of you yet. You'll clean the floors till your arms waste away and even then, pieces of you can always be repurposed.

We're all about sustainability, here.

The rich always want to live forever, but that gift isn't for them. They don't put their whole body into the company like you, they don't make the same sacrifices. They're envious of you, you know? They'd kill to be as skinny as you are now.

Maybe their names will be immortal, but you, my friend, you are.

Your blood is in this company. You'll never die.

Hey... why are you crying?

[blueberry-beanie]

.

[thelastspeecher]

eregyrn-falls replied to your post: “I've been watching a lot of tornado related...”

tornadoes are something that terrified me as a little kid, no doubt due to television. (i can remember a nightmare from early childhood about a tornado.) i grew up in eastern PA, where at the time we didn't have any. so it was the IDEA of them that terrified me. honestly, it still does. i would very very VERY much prefer never to live in a place that gets them with any regularity.

​i realize they're old hat for you, and that's true for anyone who lives with a natural phenomenon. you come to respect it, rather than be terrified of it. but for me, i can't get past the suddenness of them. the fact that they can strike in the middle of the night when you might have almost no warning at all. while they aren't completely unpredictable (obviously there are observable weather fronts and stuff), to me, they feel that way.

the natural disasters that i can deal with are hurricanes, and blizzards. both of those are things you see coming for DAYS. you can get out ahead of them. you can take steps to protect your house and your pets and yourself. (i mean, both of those in theory, assuming you have the means and the financial situation.) earthquakes and tornadoes are too sudden for me and that's why they scare me.

oh you're not the only one who's had a tornado nightmare! one of the worst nightmares I've had in my entire life was a tornado nightmare!

I think that what allows me to continue living in a tornado-prone area despite my general anxiety over like, idk, life, is two things: 1) tornado predictions give a crazy amount of warning nowadays, and 2) I live in a tornado-prone area, I've had a few close calls, but it's not like I live in Moore, Oklahoma lmao.

most tornado warnings aren't even that a tornado has been spotted by someone or confirmed by radar. most of them are "radar indicated rotation", meaning that a thunderstorm with a rotating cloud has been detected on radar. which doesn't mean tornado. it does mean a storm capable of a tornado and more likely to produce one, but it doesn't mean a tornado. or even a funnel cloud!

very VERY rarely are people caught off guard by a tornado anymore. FEMA says the average amount of time between a tornado warning being issued and the tornado or storm striking the area is 10 to 15 minutes. plenty of time to grab your emergency kit and go to your safe place. we have tornado watches if the weather is favorable and often know days in advance whether we'll be hit by weather conducive for tornadogenesis.

and even when we don't know in advance, like I said, we still have plenty of warning! about a week ago, I woke up to sirens, then ten minutes later, heard them again. which I knew likely meant a tornado warning had been issued (the first time, I checked my phone and saw it was severe thunderstorm and just rolled over to sleep some more lol). and before I could check, my phone went off, blaring the same alarm as an Amber Alert. which I knew 100% meant tornado warning. and it was. my roommate and I had time to use the bathroom, grab the dogs and emergency bag, and even take the dogs outside really quick to pee before the storm hit us! and we didn't have a tornado watch in effect. there weren't supposed to be conditions for tornadoes that morning.

and like I said, I don't live in Moore. if I did, I wouldn't even DREAM of living somewhere without a basement. as it is, I fucking hate that my best option is a hallway on the first floor. we've gotten tornadoes before. some have gotten close to me. one literally lifted over a building I was in. but thankfully, we're not as prone as other locations in my state; the storms tend to lose some steam by the time they reach here. and the tornadoes that do spawn tend to be lower level, again, because of the storms losing steam by the time they get here.

I know a lot about the science of tornadoes and grew up in Tornado Alley (or adjacent, depending on what graphic you use), so I know that our current methods are so flipping good at protecting us. we DO have warning. not as much as for a hurricane, but generally speaking, enough to, like I said, use the bathroom and grab the pets. earthquakes...yeah those don't typically give much warning, but that's something scientists are working on. buildings in earthquake-prone areas are built to withstand them (much like many buildings in tornado-prone areas are built to withstand severe storms), and people grow up learning what to do in an earthquake. (which is find a table to hide under, essentially, btw.)

no, what scares ME the most are wildfires.

you're flat-out fucked over by those.

[thedreamerstoryteller]

FROM THE STORY:

Li Bing's eyes were bright, Qiu Qing Zhi saw him lower his gaze embarrassed and smiled fondly. Their hair were scattered all over the pillows, it was impossible to say where one finished and the other started. Their hair were entangled, united as they own had been just a few moments before.

Li Bing was looking at him, the arm he had raised to his face before now lying on his stomach upon the blanket. The General saw him closing his hand into a fist in discomfort.

Qiu Qing Zhi smiled again reassuringly then gestured to him to come closer. When they were kids, Li Bing ran towards him and he took him upon his shoulder. He hadn't needed any word, Li Bing had got it immediately. Similarly in that moment, Li Bing moved on the mattress and came closer. Qiu Qing Zhi opened his arms and the human white cat crouched at his side. He wrapped an arm around him, Li Bing's loose hair tickled his forearm.

The Vice-Minister adjusted his position on the General's chest and seemed to relax a bit. They were hot, sweaty and sticky but it didn't matter.

<<You've been acting strange for the past few days. You should have told it to me at least>> Qiu Qing Zhi said, breaking the silence.

IN OTHER WORDS:

Li Bing finds himself in a particular and awkward condition that makes him act strangely. His friends get worried and calls for the only person who can help him. General Qiu would do anything to help his beloved little white cat.

LINK:

[jimmyandthegiraffes]

Due to an unfortunate incident I recently lost almost all of the 5th doctor fic I was working on. Don’t forget to back up ur writing kids especially if u use a means of writing that requires internet to function properly

[cheswirls]

started writing jason/sabo and its allllllllll @kiteou's fault

[sexynetra]

WIP W(Thursday)

Hi I haven’t posted any writing in so long I’m so sorry anyways started a new story today in a panic so have an excerpt :) it should be up within the next week or two!

~~~~~~

Jackie made her way to the nearest coffee stand, needing something to distract her.

“Nervous flier?” The woman behind the counter asked as Jackie swiped her card.

“Huh?”

“You a nervous flier? You look like you’re on the verge of tears,” she said, passing over a scone Jackie definitely hadn’t ordered or paid for.

“Oh, no. I actually love flying. But I’m just here to meet my girlfriend. I’m planning to propose tonight actually,” Jackie said as she took the pastry, placing the bag carefully in her purse.

“How wonderful! Mazel Tov!” The barista gave her a kind smile and sent her off with a second free pastry. For the new fiancée, she had said.

[eskawrites]

looking at the lyrics for the last chapter of the celebrity fake dating au and getting all sentimental about what could’ve been so, for my own indulgence and maybe like 2 other people’s curiosity, here are some scrapped lyrics that never made it in but are very near and dear to my heart and to the story anyway

Caution by The Killers

Tonight the winds of change are blowin' wild and free / If I don't get out / Out of this town / I just might be the one who finally burns it down

(there was a point earlyyyyy on, before Robin and Nancy got so soft with each other, that their affair would’ve been a lot messier and a lot more reckless than it turned out to be, and this def would’ve been on one of those chapters)

Chicago - Sufjan Stevens (The Staves cover)

If I was crying / In the van, with my friends / It was for freedom / From myself, and for the land / I made a lot of mistakes

(i mean there are a lot of places this could’ve gone, particularly in the late 80s/early 90s chapters. and yes, the Staves cover part is important, their version is just hauntingly gorgeous)

Snow on the Beach - Taylor Swift (feat. Lana Del Rey)

Now it's like snow at the beach / Weird, but fuckin' beautiful / Flying in a dream Stars by the pocketful / You wanting me / Tonight feels impossible / But it's comin' down / No sound, it's all around

(this was so close to being the lyrics for the Golden Globes chapter. it was so freaking close. but i changed that chapter’s lyrics to Lover of Mine because it fit Robin’s uncertainty better. but damn, the first time i listened to Midnights i was like !!! cfdau!!)

Dear Reader - Taylor Swift

Dear reader / the greatest of luxuries is your secrets

(yes there are multiple Taylor Swift songs here. i’m sorry/you’re welcome. anyway this would’ve gone in the chapter after Steve’s affair got out. but that also happens to be the chapter where ronance finally kisses so their song (killing me by ofelia k) won out)

Keep Me - Novo Amor

Keep me honest, keep me kind / Keep me as your finish line / Keep me, keep me on fire

(i kept holding onto this for quiet moments with robin and nancy, particularly their balcony chats through the years, but it never ended up going in. still soft tho, and another one from the album that i listened to on repeat while i wrote those early chapters <3)

You’re On Your Own, Kid - Taylor Swift

'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned / Everything you lose is a step you take

(it would’ve worked so well for the second to last chapter, but Maya Hawke’s ‘Over’ won out because of course it did. that was the first chapter i put lyrics on (aside from the actual first chapter, since that’s the song the fic is named after)

Backup Plan - Maya Hawke

Your favorite game, your secrеt shame, your eyesorе / I wanna be anything you've lost that you might be lookin' for

(i mean....this is a fic about affairs. it would’ve gone so well during robin and nancy’s relationship or even in the months leading up to it when they’re both pining. this is another one that i just kept putting off so it never went in, but also ‘Over’ is my absolute favorite Maya Hawke song, and I kind of wanted to give it a place of privilege as her only song in the fic, or something silly like that)

On Board - Alana Henderson, Joshua Burnside

So you should get on board / With someone whose course is steadier than mine / You should get on board / With someone whose eyes are on the horizon / Not on the skies

(this is kinda a stobin song for this fic, and also a ronance song at some points, and i really couldn’t decide where it worked best but i really do love it as a robin pov song no matter what so maybe i’ll throw it in another fic at some point)

3 Rounds and a Sound - Blind Pilot

Now I see you, 'til kingdom come / You're the one I want / To see me for all / The stupid shit I've done

(listen this is just a very sweet, slow dancing in the kitchen kinda love song, but ‘you’re the one i want to see me for all the stupid shit i’ve done’ like?? that’s so good for robin and nancy? but i actually heard this for the first time pretty late in the process so it didn’t show up in time to make the cut)

Crow’s Feet - The Accidentals

Sometimes I will lose all I have just to see what remains / Sometimes it's like living a / Car crash, hot flash / It takes someone bleeding to get you believing / A record spinning / Obsessed with the end when it's just the beginning

(if i could i would paste this entire song into the beginning of this fic, or at the end, because it’s just such a good anthem about life and pain and the experience of years. it fits incredibly well with the last few chapters. but hey, maybe it’ll also show up in the future, maybe in some nancy pov or something)

[silverstarfics]

It’s not midnight in the UK yet so technically I’m still on time. Also, I didn’t have access to my laptop until literally 10pm so I wrote this very quickly. Anyway!! It’s asexuality day so I was not going to miss it!

@thunder-pride

AO3 link

At age thirteen, everyone suddenly seemed to transfer from little kids into fledgling adults. In other words, their interests miraculously transformed overnight from dragons and mermaids and other such innocent games to… well, each other. Some experienced this change in focus early, others a little later, or, in Gordon’s case, not at all.

He blamed the fact that he’d been on swim teams for practically his entire life and so seeing semi-naked bodies wasn’t a novelty. He just didn’t care. While others were obsessing over who had kissed who and which upperclassman was the cutest, he was fixated on improving his turn during relays. He assumed that the feelings would magically arrive one day in the not-so-distant future. Like, say, his sixteenth birthday.

Only they never did.

Which wasn’t necessarily an issue until his girlfriend started putting her hands where he really did not want hands going and their subsequent messy breakup became the talk of the school. Daisy was determined to emerge with her reputation intact and so spread rumours regarding his lack of interest in anything below the waist. Unfortunately, there was little teenagers loved more than gossip. It spread like wildfire. And so, faced with the realisation that his non-existent feelings were not a commonplace experience, Gordon was hit with the terrifying possibility that there was something wrong with him.

The only blessing was that the story unravelled on a Friday, giving him an entire weekend to rest and recuperate in the darkness of his bedroom with his phone left on airplane mode. He hadn’t accounted for John’s presence, namely because John was supposed to be halfway across the country at Harvard but had chosen this week of all weeks to come home for a visit. So, if Gordon had hoped that his new status as a recluse would go unnoticed, he was very unlucky. John wasn’t the most socially adept guy, but he was pretty damn good at reading his brothers.

So, now they were here, tucked into a booth at a tiny roadside diner. John had given their father some excuse about getting Gordon some driving experience now that he finally had his learner’s permit and they had promptly fled before Jeff could question them further. It was approaching half-ten at night and so the place was mostly empty with the exception of a truck driver nursing a black coffee in the far corner.

Gordon kicked his sneakers under the table and drew his feet up to sit criss-cross. John took one look at his Finding Nemo socks and gave a fond sigh. Around them, lights flickered and glowed, filling the place with a low-level electrical hum. From the highway, the diner mimicked a beacon – packed to the brim with unusual lanterns, patterned lamps, fairy lights, neon signs and even rainbow LEDs around the rim of each table.

It was a mess of colour and Gordon loved it. He watched the reflection across the red-and-white tiles, curling into his corner of the booth to rest his head against the window while John scrolled through the holographic menu. The various sights and smells were almost enough to distract him from the issue at hand but then the memory of whispers and stares resurfaced in a nauseating wave. He curled his arms around his stomach and willed time to run in reverse.

“Okay, start talking.” John sent their order across to the kitchen and sat forward to give Gordon his full attention. His expectant look softened as he noticed Gordon’s nervous fidgeting. “Did something happen?”

“Um…” Gordon tugged the cuffs of his hoodie over his knuckles. “Maybe.” He yanked at a stray thread and tried to ignore the way his fingers were trembling. “It’s… Can you, uh… Promise you won’t tell anyone?”

“I can’t make that promise unless you swear that whatever’s bothering you isn’t a threat to your safety.”

“What?” He tore his gaze away from the tabletop to stare incredulously. “John, what the hell? What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“It’s you,” John pointed out wryly.

Gordon returned his focus to his frayed hoodie sleeves again.

“No, I’m not in trouble. Not like that, anyway. It’s…” He couldn’t get his hands to stay still. “So, um. Daisy and I broke up.” He looped a drawstring around his thumb and tugged absently. “Actually, she dumped me and then said a bunch of shi- stuff. She said a bunch of stuff. And now everyone else is saying stuff.”

John’s eyes narrowed slightly. His voice remained gentle but there was an undertone of protective fury which promised repercussions for anyone who had ever said a bad word about his younger brother.

“Can you elaborate on stuff?”

Gordon gave a loose shrug. “Just, um, I dunno. That I’m, um, weird because I don’t want to, like, uh, go further with her.”

“Okay,” John said simply. “So, you’re not ready for that yet. Not many are at your age. You’d be surprised by how many people lie about having relations.”

“Don’t say relations, jeez. How old are you? You sound like a fossil, Johnny.”

“Thanks,” John deadpanned. “You can pay for your own fries now. And hey, how many times do I have to remind you not to call me Johnny?”

Gordon shook his head with a faint grin which swiftly faded. “It’s not just about being ready.” His voice came out humiliatingly small. “I don’t think I want to do… that. Not with anyone. Ever.”

John shrugged. “Then don’t.”

“What- I- John. What’s that supposed to…? It’s not that easy!”

“It’s exactly that easy. If you don’t want to sleep with anyone, don’t.”

Gordon swiped a sleeve across his eyes angrily as his vision blurred. “But doesn’t that mean there’s something wrong with me?”

John drew a sharp breath. “Gordon. Hey, look at me for a second?” His gaze was searching, more earnest and softer than Gordon could ever recall John being with him. “There is nothing wrong with you. Okay? I promise you.”

“You swear?”

“I swear on Mom.”

Gordon found himself momentarily speechless. There was a brief pause as their milkshakes and fries arrived. He took great delight in the curly straw in his chocolate milkshake – and it was telling of just how worried John was when he made no comment about childish behaviour – and had inhaled almost an entire third of the fries before John ventured,

“Have you ever heard of the term asexuality?”

Gordon took another long slurp of milkshake and shook his head.

“Asexuality means you experience little or no sexual attraction. You’re not alone, Gords. An estimated one percent of the entire population are asexual.”

“That’s a really low percentage.”

John plucked a fry from the basket and chewed as he mentally calculated. “It sounds that way, but it’s actually a lot of people. The global population is approximately nine point eight billion. That makes ninety-eight million of them asexual. It doesn’t seem such a small proportion now, does it?”

Gordon ducked his head to hide his face and busied himself with the fries. “So… there’s nothing wrong with me? It’s okay to not want… that?”

“It’s perfectly normal.”

“Oh.” The rush of relief was so strong that Gordon nearly choked on it. He blinked furiously while John pretended not to notice and surreptitiously slid a tissue within reach. “That’s… huh. So, I’m… I’m asexual?”

John shot him a fond look. “I can’t tell you. That part’s up to you. But if you are, it’s nothing to be ashamed of and you’re not alone. There is an incredible community of people just like you.”

Gordon summoned a damp smile. “Thanks, Johnny.”

“Again with the Johnny? Really?”

“Oh my god, fine. Thanks… space-case.”

“Okay, c’mon. Let’s head out. Bedtime for squids.”

“John.”

“Nope. We’re leaving. I’ll even pay for your fries… on one condition.”

Gordon jogged to catch up with him. “Which is…?”

It could have been the lighting, but John’s smile seemed suspiciously evil. “I’d like a list of every kid who made fun of you.”

“Why?”

“No reason.”

“Johnny.”

“Oh, now I’m definitely not telling you.”