#I've read all the stories before but don't remember anything about the solution to this one

[silver-grasp]

Is anyone else taking today's Letters from Watson as a cryptography exercise?

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice is heavier. He sighs, “I know.” Then pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted of bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. Wrinkles carve his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, you press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[sharoo]

The Flower-Seeker, the Robot, and the City without Faith

It's me again emerging from my mole's burrow to leave a thematic analysis piece and then bury myself again for a few more months.

Spoilers for Canto 7

CW for mentions of suicidal ideation and some death talk

Let's talk about Bari and her role in the world of Projmoon.

I think everyone who experienced LoR before Limbus was in the same camp as me upon the reveal of Bari.

Which is to say:

The chat was not normal.

But now I've had some time to cool off and actually think and Bari's position in her world is honestly kind of fascinating, especially as a take on immortal characters.

Because first and foremost, Bari has to be ancient. In a meta sense, sprites of the Book Hunter, as we knew her back then, date back all the way to Lobcorp. In universe meanwhile, she was already a long time traveller before she met Don Quixote senior and Sancho. She was there when the Associations were being established and competing for popularity. That was, on the low end, several hundred years ago. We don't know how long it took to construct La Manchaland, or how long that operated before everything fell apart and Quixote Senior sealed everyone away for 200 years.

All through this, Bari hasn't aged a day. My guess is that it's possibly thanks to the river of immortality Xichun mentions, or something else found outside the City.

And this is where we hit one of my favourite tropes - immortals passing time.

1. Remember that you will not die

One of the most interesting things to consider in fiction is the question of "What would you do if you were immortal? You'd have infinite time to do anything you desired - to travel, learn, rest. What would you do?"

Very often, humans who undergo this process in stories eventually begin to stagnate. They end up not doing anything, because internal motivation disappears. This is understandable, because, to get a little memento mori for a moment here, death is the biggest motivator we humans have - it's our time limit. You only get X amount of time to enjoy certain things, to achieve certain goals, so that at the tail end of it you'll be able to reminisce and hopefully smile before you expire. Add to it that age itself limits us, be it youth not allowing us independence or old age slowing us down and limiting us with weakness, and you can see how we are driven, at least in theory, to live life fully as long as we can.

To lose that - the constant dread of your body slowly, but surely, progressing towards failure, breaking down little by little, is to rob us of our inherent motivator. It is a very large part of being a human, really. A lot of our lives and cultures circle around this immutable fact that we don't last, and our questions regarding the why and the what comes after. Religion exists to answer most of those questions.

So... what does one do when they lose that, and become immortal without purpose?

They seek another. Or they disappear.

2. Faith (A Ruina tangent)

Before I get to Bari, it's important to examine her debut game, and the one person she interacts with (and believe me I have thoughts about it).

So, Angela. Our most beloved not-human with all the characteristics of humanity except a lifespan, and a perfect example of an immortal trying to pass time.

LoR goes to great lengths to show her desperation going back all the way to Lobcorp. It shows, quite clearly, first her inability to cope with the circumstances Ayin stuck her in, followed by her resignation to fate and a silent wish for the end. I will not mince words, Angela reads to me back then as silently suicidal, in that she's given up on any other solution to her pain but the conclusion of the play. Then, and only then, was she to be allowed to rest. She had no say in when the play would end so she could only hope it eventually would.

She yearned for death. But then, something changed. Netzach points out that indeed, though she wished for the end, she truly wanted to live. To exist, to escape her prison and to finally know this world besides the pain. That desire gave her enough humanity to manifest her own EGO.

All with the purpose of seeking the One Book that'd give her humanity, and, in her eyes, make her finally complete and able to live in happiness.

The most important part of LoR for this analysis is the Floor of Religion, and Hokma's view of faith. Honestly I'd recommend watching through all of these because it's so poignant. Or better yet, watch Hydrojoy's Angela video (the fact they've got so few subscribers with this level of analysis is a crime honestly).

Some lines I want to focus on, though, are these:

Things without purpose shall disappear. People without purpose will similarly expire.

Angela admits to herself that she doesn't know what she's doing. She's simply chasing some sort of meaning - revenge, freedom from her robotic condition, power, knowledge, anything that'll give her fulfilment.

And in the forgiveness route, she finally finds that in companionship of Roland and, I'd like to think, the Librarians.

But if she doesn't forgive, she ends up losing any purpose besides continuous revenge. There is no companionship when the Librarians turn on her for betraying them. There's no use in being human when it doesn't benefit her mission, and frankly just makes it harder because it makes her easier to harm. There's no point leaving the library when outside will not welcome her, it's much safer to stay inside forever.

There is no point to anything. Angela's revenge is hollow, really - Ayin is dead and no amount of sticking it to him will earn a response from a dead guy.

Enter the Book Hunter.

I will be honest in saying I don't fully understand what they both mean, with them speaking in sort of vague terms. It sounds like Bari was employed by Angela to kill other Book Hunters (perhaps in exchange for knowledge?).

What matters to me, though, are the final lines - the recognition of what Angela is and delivering death to the last librarian.

3. The Scholar of Meaning and the Reaper of the Meaningless

As the Limbus wiki points out, Bari is likely named after a Korean funerary goddess who sought both a healing river and a flower of immortality. But this influence strikes me especially in the context of her being an immortal who meets a lot of other (and often younger) immortals.

She's wise to the fact that all things need meaning to exist. They need an ambition, a wish, something to strive for.

So she attempts to give it to them.

This is shown not just explicitly with Quixote senior, but also with Quixote junior after Sancho gives up her memory, itself a form of death Bari guides her to. For 200 years, Bari made sure to visit Don Quixote and leave her letters so that this person who was once a dear friend may dream, may have meaning and a purpose in her immortal life.

Because you need something to drive you in life, be it becoming a legendary fixer, creating a place where Bloodfiends can live in peace with humans, or searching for a flower which grew from the mysterious rivers flowing through your world.

And if you have lost purpose and can no longer find one, if she cannot save you from that void, she will be there to put you out of your misery, for a meaningless eternity is its own sort of hell, and cruelty it perpetuates is nothing but needless.

In her own words - you must pursue your dream, even if it means wagering your life in the chase.

I think Bari's view of the Bloodfiends' illness and what Carmen describes as the disease humanity could be similar if not the same thing. Roland says in Floor of Religion's first episode that the City has no established religion - people focus on their immediate survival, suffering is everpresent, and the more organised religious-seeming groups are cults trying to exploit you.

The City has lost its purpose. People do not dream, or are not allowed to for long because those dreams are swiftly quashed. Carmen offers an out to suffering through becoming so unapologetically yourself you gain the power to enact your will on the world, for better or worse.

Bari seeks, I think, to give the same, but through simple companionship. Not cohersion, not magic, but through the same thing that has given so many people across this franchise meaning - having a friend to be there for you as you look for what drives you. Because to be alone in meaninglessness is the most cruel and difficult thing. I wonder if she knows that from experience...

I really hope we get more of Bari in the future so I can see if my analysis is more fanfiction than truth but with just the bits we have I have to say she's one of my favourite secondary characters in Limbus.

[zachdefense]

can't stop thinking about how Gnosia is the absolute weirdest game I've ever played from a design perspective (complementary). How did they ever make a single-player social-deduction roguelike visual novel with rpg elements? How did they make it so good?

It's a classic Werewolf/Mafia game in space. The roguelike nature means it's actually a puzzle you have to figure out each time, instead of just picking up on story hints and foreshadowing. And you not only get to learn things about the other players, you have to get to know them to know how to read and manipulate them. Where other games need you to learn "After you dodge twice, the boss is open to attacks", Gnosia needs you to learn "Jonas will always trust Kurushka, so if you're suspicious of her then you should make sure he doesn't have many allies either" or "People really like Otome so don't accuse her of anything before building up some goodwill of your own". It's been a couple years since I played it but I still remember all of these character interactions because they're not only fun characters in the story, but understanding them is integral to the actual gameplay.

And speaking of gameplay, the rpg elements are just perfect. Your stats are things like "Draw less attention from the imposters when you're outspoken in trials" and "People trust your accusations more". By putting those things in plain text as stats they can be changed, it makes the player keep them in mind as game mechanics. If you get killed off early, it feels less like "wow the rng sucks" and more like "maybe I should accuse people less and so I don't get targeted, even if it means more people getting killed". It's a great way of making sure that these mechanics aren't just tutorialized once and forgotten, but that they're top of mind as solutions to problems.

They made it all mesh together so well. And I haven't even talked about the story yet, the story is also real good, but the design is just *chef's kiss*

[cleolinda]

Silent Hill 2 commentary: Eastern South Vale & jukebox puzzle (2)

PREVIOUSLY ON: Strange Photos, Time Loop Theory, and the Happy Burger.

Spoiler policy: Just about anything but That One Big Thing near the end of the game, particularly information about characters, their motives, and their dynamics. The game's eight endings may also be discussed. Content notes are below the cut.

Content notes: In this video, there's a lot of acid vomit and blood in combat, including the body horror of the "lying figures," and at one point I discuss the idea of violence against monsters with sexualized/feminine features (this is purposefully part of the story, IMO). There's some oversized insects now and then (also blood). In terms of themes, I discuss suicidal ideation, alcoholism, drug addiction, terminal illness, infidelity, infertility—most of this is very subtle, and this is not one of the Huge Trigger Warnings videos.

30:50: "Andy has a tool shop and a bookstore?" There's a reference to another Konami game, Metal Gear Solid, on the signage. 

31:20: The Baby & Kids Super Store. Masahiro Ito had confirmed that he designed the bubblehead nurses (you'll meet these in Brookhaven Hospital) to have a baby or baby doll-like face because James and Mary had wanted to have children, but weren't able to. By my reckoning, you see this in two baby goods stores (and at least one billboard) in town, an empty crib later on, an empty baby carriage, and other child/baby imagery I'll point out. In the story, you also find out that Mary had wanted to adopt a young girl named Laura; I feel like the idea that James had actually wanted to be a father becomes a subtext for his interactions with Laura, and it adds context to the "Leave" ending. 

The awning of the store has turquoise blue in it—the same color as James' car, which I also pointed out on oscillating fans (symbolizing cycles and repetition). I'm not going to say that every single thing with that color has some symbolic significance—like, I don't think the teapots that come standard at Wood Side Apartments do—but when you see that color, I think it's worth asking it if might. 

Did not mention: As an aside, that color struck me as being really unusual for a car after, I don't know, maybe the 1950s. While I was prepping this commentary, I happened to be in a Publix parking lot with my mother, and we passed a car in exactly that shade of turquoise, robin's egg blue, whatever you want to call it. My mom burst out with, "I've never seen a car that color." And I'm the one who had to be like, "Funny you say that..."

33:36: Remember the Code Note? You need it for the keypad in the alley beside Grand Market. The solutions are different on the various difficulty levels, but once you're inside the Market, you can pick up three health drinks and three boxes of bullets. I really, really like to use the handgun in Toluca Prison, so I'm a little too happy about this. "It's BULLETS, YAY! I can't wait to get our handgun. I sound like such an American, being that excited about firearms, and I apologize." Like, I know, it's just a video game, whatever, but I am in the U.S., and we've probably got about a week before something in the news makes that enthusiasm age really badly.

36:13: We see the Happy Burger Queen's Special ad clearly on the way out. Also, two posters for Brookhaven Hospital, one of which reads, "The patient's well-being is in your hands." It's one of those "We'll talk about it during the end credits" things. Like, at this point, I'm going to have to put together a supercut of all the times I had to talk around things.

39:00: There are "Drug Hotline" posters throughout town; I got Ian the Silent Hill Loremaster to explain this on his second stream. There's a drug called PTV derived from the plant White Claudia, the latter of which you'll need for the "Bliss" ending, and The Order is involved. 

Re: Strange Photo: "So many people here," photo #1. I say the number of objects is 5, but it's actually 6, which means you'd take the letter Y in "many" and put it first (#1) in the photo sequence: "YOU'VE BEEN HERE," etc. My counting was off, but the principle is sound. 

James is at slightly low health and I can't stand it. My problem with Lying Figure #2 is that it's too close to the street sign to swing at properly.

43:20: That other Glimpse of the Past: Blood-red graffiti reading "The door that wakes in darkness opening into nightmares," hidden in the white cloth barrier. We'll see this in full later; the developers are acknowledging to original fans that it used to be here. 

The "Barrier Note" reading, "I shouldn't go through. I don't know why. I won't" most likely refers to "the door that wakes in darkness" right there, now covered up—the note could have been written by a previous time-loop James, and Silent Hill, whatever it is, has since blocked off that version of the door. (That said: the handwriting differs across the various sets of notes we pick up.) The note also mentions that "they" (the lying figures?) have "no smell at all." There are things like this throughout the game that may be trying to tell James (or us) that the Silent Hill we're experiencing isn't real.

Did not mention: I have since realized about stomping—it's not James' choice to hit or stomp, exactly; it's probably more about how close he is to the monster at the time. It might as well be "choice" for as much control I ever manage to have over it. 

44:30: I apologize to Masahiro Ito for hating his lying figures so much ("I guess I mean that as a compliment") because it's more the way it's fucking annoying to fight them, God bless. That said, I started to get a little bit fond of them while recording the third video. 

45:45: I don't think I ever said which William Katz (per Lost Memories) Katz Street is named after—because I'm not entirely sure. William Katz, whose Introduction to Reference Work was translated into Japanese and could have been seen by Team Silent, is my "best" guess. 

46:45: "I hate being a person who beats these things up constantly," said after a particularly comedic lying-figure flop. Basically, I argue that the enemies are sexualized but not "sexy," not titillating, and I mention rather vaguely that I'm bisexual because I feel—sort of like, I don't think they're meant to be sexy to people attracted to women, and I would know.

But in the third video, I bring my identity up again in a way that felt... really weird to me, even at the time, and I think both in that video and in this one, a question was simmering under the surface. Until this point, standing outside Big Jay's saying that I'm bi, I would have said that I identify, as a woman, with the "feminine" enemies. Now I've aligned myself with James as A Person Attracted to Women. Does this establish credibility for me... or complicity? I'll keep saying I hate "being a person who beats these monsters" with feminine features, and yet I go after every single one of them, and I enjoy getting better at fighting them. You could argue it's just a video game, it's survival horror and that's what you do, it's not that deep, but I like that this is a game that got me to ask that question. I don't have answers; sometimes asking might be enough. 

47:45: Big Jay's diner: after I wind up that discussion, I point out a poster for cherry pie that makes me think of Twin Peaks. (I know I tend to jump from one thought to the other practically in the same breath, but it's not so much that I have ADHD as that I had a limited amount of time to record these first two videos, and I had to keep moving. That's one of the reasons I was nervous.) 

"Big Jay's Note": Someone has written about "that man," who "acted like he didn't know" he was told not to come to the diner anymore; his face is like "a mask, and there's something underneath, waiting to get out." This is most likely the janitor character who's going around unnerving people around town, a sort of dream-logic reflection of James' feelings and past actions. I don't know whether this is a single character who has a deeply confused mental state, or whether this is a Time Loop James coming through (living in?) town who genuinely did not know a previous James was told to stay away. I don't actually think this is a story element meant to to be decoded and pinned down, but it's interesting to wonder. 

It's also interesting to look at how emotionally volatile the janitor is, and how these frustrations apparently build up and get expressed as violence (breaking the jukebox). In remorse, one of the notes says, he cries that he'll "fix everything." And this is a character meant to represent or resonate with James.

Did not mention: While reviewing the video, I noticed a poster that says "Drink me." Alice in Wonderland is one of the acknowledged inspirations for the original SH2, alongside Twin Peaks and Jacob's Ladder.

I cannot say whether the hot dog poster advertising the “best meat in the city” just above that has some kind of… deeper meaning.

49:20: New Best Friend magazine on New Game+. Did not mention because I only remembered later: the article subheads are telling you to go to the Pet Center, yes, but also find a doghouse (later, on the other side of town). I think you might also use the page numbers as a code to open a door to trigger the "Goodest Boi" ending, but I'd have to check on that. 

I promptly upset my own dog by fighting a lying figure; we take a break for petting. This seems like a good place to break for another post.

Next post: The Pet Center, the alien gem, and all the records I found at Groovy Music.

(SH2R commentary master post)

[bonefall]

Hi Bones!! Thank you for you hard work on this project and for sharing it with us!

I've seen your posts about weird representation of society (regarding the "natural order of things") in xenofiction, especially in lion king, so I wanted to ask:

could you recommend any xenofiction media that has all (or most of the) animal species sapient? Or is the only solution to make just one or two species sapient while the others (especially prey) are plain animals?

Really sorry if you've seen this ask from me before - my account had a weird laggy period when I couldn't send or receive messages and asks, so I don't know if you got the previous one! I just know that now it's fixed so I double all the asks sent haha

Honestly I'm not totally sure! If any 3rd person has some good recommendations for "every being is alive" xenofiction types, feel free to weigh in.

If you want to jump in with me though, I am following the webcomic Africa. It updates every Wednesday. Africa is about a mother Leopard on the verge of a great ecological disaster, the relationship between her children and the animals around her, and the strength of both instinct and choice as the characters face an uncertain future.

Since it's ongoing, I still don't know how it's going to end and can't judge it as a full work! But it's absolutely fascinating and I think the author is doing a fantastic job so far. Bonus points for the way it portrays humans, btw.

No more spoilers though, if you're interested, it's on Webtoons.

(I'm also planning to read Oren's Forge soon. Ask me about it again in a few months over on Bonebabbles and I'll give you my thoughts)

As an aside though, funny you mention it because like... ever since I was a kid I've had a story I want to tell with the premise. It's a scintilla I've kept close to me for well over a decade but haven't done anything official with. So this is actually a theme I've thought about a lot.

It's rare to see it done well though because like... its very premise butts heads with reality. The "natural order" that an animal follows is not something it moralizes. A tiger doesn't have the capacity to think about how fucked up it is to kill to stay alive, the deer doesn't know that if its population isn't controlled it will destroy the forest.

They're animals. They don't HAVE that agency. Your dog does not care about being sterilized. A snake doesn't differentiate between a pinky and an adult mouse except in terms of if it will fit in its mouth. But the minute you put human morality in there... they have the ability to reason, create and agree on the rules of a society, make choices about MORALITY.

If nothing is going to change about their world, you just end up putting human arguments about "natural order" in their mouths and, well... start telling a parable justifying this "natural order."

(Genuine) Does what I'm saying make sense? Animals DON'T rationalize or negotiate. HUMANS do.

So the minute you're approaching a world with that logic, like it or not, you are invoking those "arguments from nature." And you're putting them in a being that is not fully an animal or a human, but an anthropomorphic mix which CAN rationalize but WON'T make an effort to change their world.

(Which is why tbh the best examples i know of are works with a theme of "change.")

OH WAIT I also remember another that's interesting!! Leafy: Hen into the Wild actually has a fascinating take on it. It's not interested in "moralizing" or really being about an animal society. It's a very emotional sort of movie, and it's about joys in adversity, the freedom that choice gives you, how bad things are going to happen and you can never completely prevent them.

INTENSE movie emotionally, the ending will wreck you (especially in the English translation which leaves out a really important theme making it feel abrupt x_x) but it's really good. Check that one out.

OH and also You Are Umasou. That one has more pitfalls imo (it does try to moralize a bit) but it's super unique as a movie. And is about dinosaurs.

[keydekyie]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔹𝕖𝕒𝕣

~Frequently asked questions~

Wondering what the hell that human-faced bear monster was that you saw on your dash? Can't figure out whether it's supposed to be scary or cute? Confused deeply?

Well do I have the solution for you: All your questions answered, and more!

First of all: what am I looking at?

The creature you've seen is called a Kanai. They're basically a sphinx, a creature with a human face, but instead of the body of a lion, it's a bear! It's not that weird! (right?) Oh, and they're also the size of a house. Don't worry about it, it's fine. It's fine.

What is this setting?

The story is set in my headworld, which is a sort of an alternate-reality Earth, and specifically in a country called Kellabor. Here's a big worldbuilding dump if you're curious, but there's no need to read it all before diving into the books. You'll discover everything important along the way.

So there are books?

Yes! I've written three books in the series, and am working on the fourth and final book. I have a masterpost explaining them with content warnings here.

Okay but what is the story about? What happens?

It's a very PG (maybe edging on PG-13 in the fourth book) slow-burn fantasy romance adventure story with a dash of horror.

Oh, so there's romance?

Yep! It's been planned that way since the first words I put down. If you get through the first two books and are wondering where the hell the romance happens, just remember: it's a slow burn. A sloooow burn. We'll get there.

How many books are there going to be?

So far, I'm planning on four. Originally, I had three planned, but the second one was getting too long and I had to split it in half. That's why book II: The Crossing ends on a cliffhanger. Don't worry, it's not going to take four books to get to the cute parts.

Is there going to be a happy ending?

Yes! Yes, I promise there will be a happy ending. Might not, uh... seem very likely, at times, but yes.

What's the inspiration behind this story?

If you want a long, somewhat-spoilery answer, you can read this, but the tl;dr non-spoilery version is:

I wanted to write a story about a monster and a human where the monster is the one facing the ethical dilemma, and they come to be friends and care about each other. And go on adventures. And love each other.

Wait, so... are the giant bear monsters the good guys?

Um... yes and no. There really aren't clear good guys or bad guys in this story. I'm going to have to ask you to have a bit of an open mind, here.

Okay, but I swear I saw a gif of one of these monsters eating someone. Was that from this?

Yeah, that gif is from a side-project set in the same world. It's a little more explicit than anything that happens on screen in TMatB, but let's just say it's not... uncharacteristic. That's the dash of horror I mentioned.

Listen... it's the dash of horror that makes the cute stuff that much cuter. The horror is the flavor. Trust me on this one.

Wait so if the bear monsters eat people, how are they not obviously the bad guys?

It's complicated! You'll find nothing is black and white here in Kellabor. The country has a long, mysterious, complex history, and so do each of my characters.

Okay but... what happens, though? Who's this girl I keep seeing in these drawings? Why does it sometimes seem like they are enemies and sometimes not?

The protagonists start out in conflict in book I due to ✨circumstances✨. They have a lot of issues to work out. Depending on where they are in the story, drawings of them might show them being more antagonistic or more sweet. It'll all make sense with context.

I'm still confused...

Ask box is always open! ♥️

You can get the books on my webbed site: graceohare.com

[polyamorousmood]

My gf (mtf) is fairly monogamous but I'm not necessarily, especially with sex. I have an offer from our mutual male friend (cis) to try penetration since I (afab nb) am terrified but curious about it and he's one of the only cis guys I'd feel comfortable trying that with. I have hooked up with him once before, prior to meeting my gf, and it was really good. My gf is fairly supportive about it, one of the things that really works for us sex-wise is that neither of us want penetration in our relationship. I'm just absolutely terrified of making her insecure and ruining her friendship with our friend. I know I can function fine with blurring the lines between sex, friends, and partners, but she's got the trauma of an ultra-Christian childhood and has so much constant dysphoria that I'm scared something like this could ruin our relationship. We talked so much when he first offered and I know she's not opposed, but I just keep thinking about all the horror stories I've read about couples opening up their relationship or trying poly after being mono and it ruining them. Especially if I end up wanting it more than just once with our friend. I don't particularly need advice, I'm just laying in bed next to her in the dark scrolling horrifying stories on Reddit while talking with our friend over text getting all up in my head about our dynamics and I don't have anyone to vent to about this right now. I figure a polyam blog on tumblr will at least understand that nuances that come with figuring this stuff out. Thanks for listening

It's really fair that you'd be worried about this, and it's a really good sign for everything that you want to do this consciously and carefully - if at all. Sincerely the worst thing about polyamory (and related things) is how isolating it can be. 😣Oftentimes, the only person you can even discuss problems with is the partner who is also all up in the problem. Which I clearly don't need to explain to you how that sucks.

You said you didn't need anything but listening. But like, it's me. So.... 🤷‍♀️

Reddit and the forums are the mother of all selection biases: happy people generally don't feel the need to post about their lives online, and people who have found something sustainable but not completely perfect don't feel like their input is valuable because they "still have problems" even though how things can work really well or well enough is probably some of the most valuable information to you!

It's not your fault if your partner lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level on this. And if she is the type of person to usually lies about or grossly mis-estimates her okayness level with things, its bound to be a problem at some point, even if you can successfully avoid it being a problem on this one issue by being really anxious.

🗣📢EXPLICITLY UNSOLICITED ADVICE WARNING🚨🚨 Everything up to this point could be construed as "just thoughts" but the following is unambiguously advice. Stop reading now if you want to continue in your unadvized state. She cannot assure you with 100% certainty she will not have a problem with it. If she tries, all she'll do is lock herself into not being able to tell you if she does. The only helpful thing in these situations I have found is to establish a procedure for what to do if there is a problem. Give her the tools to find something that's comfortable for her. Give her the certainty that you will listen to her, talk things through (which is sometimes a solution on its own!), and not hold it against her if you need to make changes. Then you can rest assured if there are problems, they won't last.

When you're doing "but I don't want to hurt herrrrrr😖" anxiety calculus, remember your non monogamous tendencies probably aren't going to stop! So also evaluate if you'd be okay with never ever doing anything with someone besides your gf. And if you're not. It will probably hurt her worse if you say you're fine with staying monogamous forever now, and then feel like you're about to snap two years later. So just like. Factor that into your calculations, too, haha!😅

And as a close

I'm with you. I feel you. This blog has DMs open if you want to talk more organically or about details you don't want to be public. No matter how this shakes out, you will get through to the other side.💙💖🖤

[sojirosteacup]

Boys Over Flowers fic recs

Here is my fic rec list for 2024! Not all fanfics are from this year, these are just the ones I caught myself reading and enjoying.

Bearing Weight by Kalira

Woo Bin would do anything for his friends - for any of them. If all he can do is be there, and try to pry Ji Hoo out of his own head . . . well, that's what he's there for. Whether Ji Hoo really wants to allow support or not.

This one was a nice gem to find this year. I love fics focused on the F4 friendship and the Woobin and Jihoo one has been on my mind lately (mostly because I keep writing them interacting in my own fic), so I was very happy when I saw someone post a fic focused on them. It's great and a nice character exploration of them (and even Jihoo's grandfather)!

A Chance Encounter by GrannyWeatherwax

Alternate Universe Five years after Gu Jun Pyo goes ahead with his marriage to Ha Jae Kyung, Gu Jun Pyo and Geum Jan Di find themselves snowed-in at a familiar ski resort on Christmas Eve.

I've recommended this one before and I'll recommend it again because I can. I don't know why I keep reading AUs where things start out wrong for this ship, I think I just like suffering 😂. My favorite thing in this fic is how the writer got in Jandi's head and her job.

Daomings Play for Keeps by Anna_Dromeda

Set during episode eight, Shancai never goes down to the beach and kisses Lei, but instead wakes up Ah Si in her usual violent manner and tells him to get his lazy butt down to the beach to comfort his friend during his time of crisis. This goes about as well as you would expect. Shancai, realizing she has feelings for both boys, gets it into her head that she is just a game to Daoming Si, and vows to play to win. Her proposal? A one-month trial period of no fighting or possessive idiocy. His solution? A relationship agreement. What could possibly go wrong here?

This fic is so funny i can't even begin to describe it. Love the interactions between the F4 and how over the top everything is (very in character). Seriously recommend.

Even If I Can’t Remember You by Toffeemond

Tsukasa didn’t remember Tsukushi and that was the end to their love story. Or it should have been. But eight years later, two grown people get a second chance to pick up the pieces and try again.

Again, I'm torturing myself with a fic where this ship start out suffering. It's really good and the side ships caught me by surprise. Waiting for the updates.

The Imperial House by HelenRourke

Tsukushi Makino wanted nothing more than to live an ordinary life. Enrolled as a scholarship student at the elite Eitoku Academy, she was counting down the days until she graduated. Then she could reach her goal of going to a University in America. However, she didn’t know her future had been decided for her, by her grandfather, before she had ever been born. What fate, you may ask? It seems that Tsukushi has been destined to marry the Prince of Japan.

This one started recently, so it only has two chapters yet but I'm keeping an eye on it because it looks promising. I've always wanted to read a royalty au about them!

[threerattsinatrenchcoat]

12, 14, 17 for fic writer asks! :)

12: trope I'm really into

I did a stupid laugh reading this question. I'm really into the "they asked for no pickles" trope. Heists, I've been trying to figure out how to write one forever and I keep getting paralyzed, but watching heist movies is my comfort. The one where you apply modern technological/programming ideas to fantasy worlds. The sunshine and storm cloud couple.

14. Where do I get inspiration?

1) Daydreaming. Whenever I do anything physical I daydream and a lot of that is "what if this character did this?" Most of them are silly but if I get a scene I like I'll write it and that might turn into something. I try to not dismiss any idea.

2) I get it a lot of inspiration from other people. Shadows of the Lost came from a post about imperialism and the Gerudos' relationship with death/zonai came from a post about lore theories. Flowers was based on a tumblr post about flower language. Arcanus Fisticuffus was from the MMMay posts, Wine, Iron and Other Damnables from a post about enchanted weapons. Stranger Flames have Burned was from a @naughtybg3confessions post. I always try to link my sources in fics!

3) Talking with people, especially joking about things. I feel like I'm always taking my jokes to absurd levels, but in Arcanus Fisticuffus the idea for Liam and Cal to be filling everyone's heads with stories about Rolan came from a bit where they were going to make sure he won (as well as the incoming cobra kai jokes). Honeypot came from a joking demand for a thirst fic. Hornoscopes from joking about horoscopes. Sometimes an individual inspires a fic and I usually gift that fic to them.

4) Going off that, writing absurd stuff and trying to make it work, like when Astarion and Minthara crash a patriar party to make sure Wyll is getting the respect he deserves in Dance, or when I explain the "fade to black" sex scenes at Sharess's Caress... and then involve shovel (Sharess's Mess).

5) Exchanges! I've written a lot for exchanges.

6) Fixing problems I have with the story or finding solutions to things that make me uncomfortable. Like, I don't want to write overly gendered language/insults. That led to my current fic-canon (which I don't remember if it made it into my published fics but if not, I'm going to fix that) where Ganondorf being male doesn't make him the leader; it's that he's Ganondorf, the same guy, reincarnated. And that led to Gerudo having a huge reincarnation culture that lined up nicely with the lore post I linked above.

17) talk about your writing and editing process

I write on my phone, in google drive. I'm not stoked about this set up but it means I can write while waiting in line or on a walk so I do it.

I make a new doc for each fic, put in the prompt or idea I have, and then let it sit until something hooks me. Rarely am I'm writing at this point, but I might be researching or brainstorming. All links, ideas, notes, etc, go into the doc. Everything stays in the doc until I'm finished.

For long fics, I have to break it out once the total work count is around 30k because drive gets wonky. For short fics I do not do all this prep haha

I often make a list of character beliefs, lore, vocab for me to reference. Examples (sorry for the photos of text):

Dialogue patterns:

And body language (or kinks, erogenous zones, etc):

I usually write a few scenes I like first, or a bunch of random lines. Those might not make it into the story, but I'm the kind of person who has to do something to figure it out? I can't think my way through it (or, at least, I haven't tried to build that skill).

I often pick a "voice" scene, which is the scene I read to remember the voice the rest of the story should be written in. If possible, I read that scene before I write new stuff.

I edit as I go, normally. I usually make notes of what I want to add at other points so I don't forget

I also make a timeline:

And I try to note any plot holes, any points where I can put hooks or foreshadowing in, etc.

Once a story is done I go back through the "to add" list and make sure it's in the story, try to patch holes, make sure it matches the timeline, make sure the characters match my notes, etc.

I also break it out into chapters that are about 3000-5000 words long (if it's not already there) and rewrite the endings of each to feel nice.

I write up my fic breakdown (for long fics) and link my resources.

Then I make my partner read it. They do it solely to amuse me/hype me up and they are amazing.

Then I post it! And the moment I post it I notice 5,000 errors.

[themothandthebear]

~ Frequently Asked Questions ~

Wondering what the hell that human-faced bear monster was that you saw on your dash? Can't figure out whether it's supposed to be scary or cute? Confused deeply?

Well do I have the solution for you: All your questions answered, and more!

First of all: what am I looking at?

The creature you've seen is called a Kanai. They're basically a sphinx, a creature with a human face, but instead of the body of a lion, it's a bear! It's not that weird! (right?) Oh, and they're also the size of a house. Don't worry about it, it's fine. It's fine.

What is this setting?

The story is set in my headworld, which is a sort of an alternate-reality Earth, and specifically in a country called Kellabor. Here's a big worldbuilding dump if you're curious, but there's no need to read it all before diving into the books. You'll discover everything important along the way.

So there are books?

Yes! I've written three books in the series, and am working on the fourth and final book. I have a masterpost explaining them with content warnings here.

Okay but what is the story about? What happens?

It's a very PG (maybe edging on PG-13 in the fourth book) slow-burn fantasy romance adventure story with a dash of horror.

Oh, so there's romance?

Yep! It's been planned that way since the first words I put down. If you get through the first two books and are wondering where the hell the romance happens, just remember: it's a slow burn. A sloooow burn. We'll get there.

How many books are there going to be?

So far, I'm planning on four. Originally, I had three planned, but the second one was getting too long and I had to split it in half. That's why book II: The Crossing ends on a cliffhanger. Don't worry, it's not going to take four books to get to the cute parts.

Is there going to be a happy ending?

Yes! Yes, I promise there will be a happy ending. Might not, uh... seem very likely, at times, but yes.

What's the inspiration behind this story?

If you want a long, somewhat-spoilery answer, you can read this, but the tl;dr non-spoilery version is:

I wanted to write a story about a monster and a human where the monster is the one facing the ethical dilemma, and they come to be friends and care about each other. And go on adventures. And love each other.

Wait, so... are the giant bear monsters the good guys?

Um... yes and no. There really aren't clear good guys or bad guys in this story. I'm going to have to ask you to have a bit of an open mind, here.

Okay, but I swear I saw a gif of one of these monsters eating someone. Was that from this?

Yeah, that gif is from a side-project set in the same world. It's a little more explicit than anything that happens on screen in TMatB, but let's just say it's not... uncharacteristic. That's the dash of horror I mentioned.

Listen... it's the dash of horror that makes the cute stuff that much cuter. The horror is the flavor. Trust me on this one.

Wait so if the bear monsters eat people, how are they not obviously the bad guys?

It's complicated! You'll find nothing is black and white here in Kellabor. The country has a long, mysterious, complex history, and so do each of my characters.

Okay but... what happens, though? Who's this girl I keep seeing in these drawings? Why does it sometimes seem like they are enemies and sometimes not?

The protagonists start out in conflict in book I due to ✨circumstances✨. They have a lot of issues to work out. Depending on where they are in the story, drawings of them might show them being more antagonistic or more sweet. It'll all make sense with context.

I'm still confused...

Ask box is always open! ♥️

You can get the books on my webbed site: graceohare.com

[prince-simon]

Hi I was reading one of your fanfics and I came across this bit "he felt trapped, and scared, and was reminded of the times this would happen to him as a child, touch starved but scared to be touched" and I have never related to anything more. Do you know what that is? I'm sorry I'm only asking because I hope you know more about it than i do as you included it. Is it normal? Sorry for bugging you, it's ok if you don't know. Also your fanfics are AMAZING and have brought me a LOT of comfort

hi friend! first of all, i totally had to go through my recent fics to figure out which one you're referring to hahaha

but okay. story time! (disclaimer: the story sounds very scary in the beginning, and i'd be lying if i said it was comfortable but i decided to tell the whole story to hopefully give you some comfort? so. content warning for a bit of medical talk and medical conditions and mental health stuff under the cut)

so this whole thing about wille's legs/body spasming when touched (unexpectedly) is actually taken from personal experience. i haven't always had it, not that i know of at least, but there was a point when i was maybe. 16? maybe a bit younger? where i got slight tremors in my legs and over one or two weeks it just got more intense so my parents set up an appointment with our family doctor who referred me to a neurologist where i got a brain scan and everything. bc i - and my parents - went to the worst case scenario which to me was like wondering if this was some form of parkinson's disease i was developing (the thing i remember most about this is that we waited in the neurologist's waiting room for four hours even though we had an appointment only to be in the actual office with the doctor for like. 5 minutes) my brain scans came back fine and i guess i was too young to fully pay attention or understand what the doctor was saying but he's a doctor so he went with the natural solution of prescribing me meds. i ended up taking beta blockers for idk how long which worked for a bit to suppress the symptoms before the tremors came back. the doctor upped the dosage and again. it worked for a bit but i and my parents were like. am i gonna have to take these for the rest of my life? what's going on? i didn't wanna do this so my mum suggested going more of a natural route so we tried homeopathy. that guy slowly weaned me off the meds and instead gave me a bit of therapy which. lo and behold. helped. again. for a bit. at least i didn't have the tremors frequently anymore

in hindsight, i now know that it's very likely a symptom of anxiety and overstimulation in moments where my whole body just gets overwhelmed - i've had social situations in which i had just socialised so much and was also just really tired where a close friend would touch me and i'd just start spasming and just generally when i'm in stressful situations it can happen. sometimes it happens when i'm driving and something unexpected happens which is a fucking grim time bc i kinda need my legs for driving lol

so uh yeah. this was a lot of rambling i'm sorry. but tldr; for me personally those tremors are anxiety related

i hope this helped! you're also always welcome to slide into my dm's if you wanna talk more about this/your own experiences

either way i'm glad my stories bring you comfort!

[aliengirllogs]

Alright, I decided first I should expand upon something in my first post just in case the nosier people of this app want to read this like a story it transitions smoother. So without further-a-do welcome to the memories post. My memory is tragically spotty. I don't remember my early childhood outside things people have told me later on or more traumatic stuff. Most therapists I've talked to say the bad memory is a c-ptsd thing but also that doesn't make sense cause it's like only the worst memories stuck and instead all the other moments disappeared. It's not like repression for sure. Either way I struggle with my memory issues a lot. In fact my biggest most existential fear as of currently is the possibility that I might not remember any of my life as I get older I'll be 30 with no memory of my 20s or 40 and no memory of anything before 30. The timeline of my life only gets longer and that's only more and more I will forget. I desperately play every memory game and read tons of books in hopes of approving it but there's always this looming what if scenario where it's all for naughty. I actually noticed this looong ago the first time. In middle school I noticed I couldn't remember any of my friends. You see I have a tendency to have a single friend until something happens and move onto the next friend rather than having multiple. That's actually something I've been trying to be better with as well but a younger me noticed even though I had such a long storied line of them and knew I did I didn't remember any of them outside the one I was currently hanging around so while at recess on time I promised myself I'd always remember him. I just stared and took in his face and must've said his name 100 times repeatedly in my head. My brain must be a masochist cause nothing hurts more than the fact I remember this situation so vividly the moment of staring at his face naked into my mind but where her was is just a black space I remember the surround situation and playground so so intensely but when I try to focus on him it's as if he was erased. I don't even remember his name only the fact I repeated it so many times and desperately wanted to remember it. Now obviously a playground friend from middle school isn't the end all be all as they say so this would hurt so bad if it wasn't for me finding similar things happening for a more important moment. My grandfather was a man who irreversibly changed the course of my life for the better. He was a hardened man with a soft spot for me and my sister. He was honestly the only blood relative I can look back at and genuinely say didn't at some point give up on me. He died not even a couple years ago. Even with what could've been his last breath he used it to change me for the better making me promise never to smoke like him as it's what did him in. I can remember the promise.. the joy.. the situations.. but not his face. Some people have proposed I may have some form of aphantasia as well. I don't think that can be true. My imagination is very active. Y'know how a lot of people sorta grow out of blurring reality with their imagination? Like as a kid you could pick up a stick and upon imagining it was a sword it was almost like the image was super-imposed over reality of that sword. Well I've actually never stopped being able to do that. A funny thing I actually do a lot is in scary situations where I'm staring into a dark hallway or something and need to lower my anxiety just to materialize the image of some absolute brainrot in it. I'll catch my ass making myself see the twerking she-hulk out in the woods from the window or something. So clearly not any type of aphantasia I know of. Anyway that's about it. I have a deep seed dread towards my lack of memory and desperately try any solution to help. Most of the proposed explanations even from professionals I sought help from don't feel right. It really messes with me.

[thegoddesswater]

Author Questionnaire Tag Game

Tagged by @tc-doherty - Thanks, Lano!

About Me

When did you start writing?

Forever ago, it feels like some days. The first time I was told I had a talent for telling a story was probably second grade, but I also definitely ruined one of my mom's recipe books by scribbling all over it "writing" a story that I was simultaneously telling to my brother when I was just a small kiddo. I don't think the scribbling really counts though.

Are there genres/themes you enjoy reading different to the ones you write?

Eh, sometimes, I guess. I've started reading more contemporary stuff in recent years, and it's not likely that I'll ever actually try to write that, but contemporary fiction is also absolutely not my favourite genre to read. Also, even though there are often a lot of romantic elements in what I write, I find that I'm super choosy when it comes to whether I like romance in books I'm reading.

For the most part, I'd say that the things I write and the things I read are at least similar, even if they're not exactly the same.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

If I've ever had anyone compare my writing to an established author, I've genuinely forgotten who the comparison was to.

I don't really set out to emulate anyone in particular. I've got my own quirks and writing flair, and I'm pretty okay with that. I can swap styles when I need to, but I also like being able to feel like I've got my own voice.

There was a time when my friends tried to start a writers' circle and I was the only woman there. We started off with free writes and shared them, and I remember distinctly that one of the others there was like "Even if you hadn't read that out, I'd still know that it was written by you, I'd absolutely say 'Kelsey totally wrote that' because it sounds feminine." I could not decide what to do with that feedback. I still don't, actually.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space?

UH. It's...cluttered. I keep my personal laptop on my dining room table, a surface which has the unfortunate honour of being horizontal, and, therefore, a place where items tend to congregate when I set them down for "just a second". And there are so many sticky notes. Because I will scribble down thoughts on a post-it when I'm at work and then stick it near my laptop so I can use it later.

I also keep a notebook in my bedside table and will jot things down into that if I'm writing right before bed. That's a very casual writing space and not my favourite. Partly because the pen I use for it is simultaneously running out of ink and also drippy if I think too much before writing with it.

Honestly, my writing space can actually be anywhere though, because I have cloud-based novel software on my phone, so sometimes my writing space is public transit.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

Dunno! If I want to write, I can usually write, but sometimes I'm just super not in the mood for it, and I have enough other things that I like to do that I don't try to force myself if it's not working.

Though if I need to write for a challenge (think NaNoWriMo), then I start off by just stream-of-consciousness dumping my brain out on the page for a while. It works like having one of those "conversations" with a friend where you go "I'm trying to figure out this bit in my story" and tell them everything and don't actually let them talk and then you figure out the issue and go "Great. Thanks. You're a big help." And then I find that I'm interested in writing out the solution and it's all terribly exciting.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

Probably? Like I'm sure there are things in my writing that are there because of where I've lived, but I don't think there's anything I could consciously identify.

And especially where I don't write in the real world, it's harder to identify. Though that being said, there is something about one of my settings that feels extremely American to me. I've only been to the United States a couple times, so I can't actually accurately judge why that is.

Are there any recurring themes of your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

Honestly, I feel like I'm writing at my best (at least for first drafts) if I don't think about themes and just let the story happen. If I think too hard about something, it starts to get forced and stilted.

Grief shows up a lot -- a lot more than I would have expected way back when I started writing seriously, and I think I know why. It's not usually the focus of a story, but it's usually there, like a particular shade to tie a colour palette together. There's also lot of found-family type dynamics and just really broken characters sometimes. Neither of which exactly surprise me.

I also leave little things to amuse myself, that maybe someone will pick up on, but it's mostly dumb stuff like hiding a "James" somewhere like I'm early Pixar working with John Ratzenberger, or having a character say a clearance code that is a nod to another character that inspired part of his creation.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favourite character?

I can't believe you're going to make me choose! My characters are the closest I'll ever have to my own children, I can't just choose a favouri-- It's Adair. My little sourpuss of a cyborg. He would be so mad to know that I've called him that -- mostly about the cyborg bit. Adair is contradictory, he craves affection and companionship, yet keeps people at arms length; he willingly signed away his autonomy and yearns for freedom; he's stuck in the structure of the military, but excels most when he does his own thing outside of the rules. He will do anything for the people he loves, but he can be an utter bastard to anyone outside that subset of...what, five?? people. He'll usually do the right thing, if begrudgingly and he's something of a reluctant hero, but he's really fun for me to write.

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

I think a lot of the characters from Talentless/Wild Card would be people I would potentially get along with. I don't know if we would be friends exactly, but it would be possible to be friendly with them, with a couple of exceptions.

Not so much with Project 404's cast or Miadhachain Legacy's. Jance from ML and Cal from 404 would probably fall into the amiable-aquaintance-y category, though.

Which of your characters would you dislike most if you met them?

Probably General Vancil (Talentless/Wild Card), Voltain (Talentless/Wild Card), Chancellor Bardrick (ML), and most of anyone in the actual Miadhachain family (ML - duh). I honestly have no doubt that I'd probably get rubbed the wrong way by tons of other characters, but those are the ones that would be immediate dislike.

Tell me more about the process of coming up with your characters.

I guess my usually process goes "I need someone to fit this role" and then I start building from there. I'll use Cyri as an example.

Ages ago, I created a child character who was going to be following the main character around and causing shenanigans. I didn't want him to be an orphan, so I went "He needs parents. I don't want to worry about two parents. He needs parent. He can have a mom." I slapped the name Cyri on The Mom(TM) and called it day. At the time, I just dropped her into the story with no introduction when it was an appropriate moment for The Mom(TM) to arrive. Revisiting that story, I decided it would be better to introduce her earlier, so it wouldn't be weird when she showed up. And, suddenly that early intro scene leads to me starting to interrogate her a little bit: How did she wind up here? Why does her life look like it does in this moment? And thousands of words of playing around with her later, she went from being just The Mom (TM) to Cyri - a woman struggling to balance her protective nature with the fact that she knows that her son needs to go on these (somewhat ill-advised) adventures with the main character, because he needs to experience the world, and she can't give him that.

Other times, I come up with a name that I really like and go "Damn. If only you had a personality to go along with this" and then I'll start trying things on the name to see what fits. I have Aerun who is currently suffering from "Neat name, nothing else" which is a shame, because he feels like he's gonna be fun when he starts telling me about himself.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

Lots of my characters are searching for "home", I think. Which is super not intentional. Also, I have a really weird set of occupations that I tend to give characters: Military roles, health care workers, assassins, tradespeople/artisans, and politicians. There are some stand alone occupations too, like the rock star and the figure skater, but otherwise there are a lot of characters falling into the above occupations.

And sometimes I wind up with characters from different stories who look similar if you write about them like a checklist of traits, but they present differently from each other in text.

How do you picture your characters?

Depends! Some of them I've got super solid ideas of what they look like and others...Not so much. I usually have a general idea of what characters look like with like...general height, body type, skin tone, eye colour, hair etc. But occasionally I'll watch a movie, see a picture, meet a person and I will know in my soul that I will have stumbled upon the most accurate portrayal of one of my characters. I'll mentally go "Oh my god! That's them. That is exactly what [character] looks like" and it's very fun when that happens.

It also happens sometimes with voices, for example, Hogarth from The Iron Giant is the most perfect match for the way Cyri's kid sounds.

I'll often make some kind of visual representation of the character, whether that's with a picrew or on the Sims or SOMETHING, but usually that representation is just close to what they look like.

My Writing

What's your reason for writing?

Because I have stories to tell?? Because I like to amuse myself? Because it makes me feel like I'm home?

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I just love any comments! I'm never going to complain about the ones that I do get. Keyboard smashes make me giggle. People saying that they like what I put out is always fun. I do love when people share their thoughts with me though, because those are the ones that I come back to again and again when I need a boost; I love knowing that people are engaged with my writing, y'know?

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

I genuinely don't understand the question. Like... Do I want them to think I'm good at writing? Sure. Would I like them to have the idea that I am not a terrible person? Also sure. Are we talking when I post things online? I'd like people to think I'm kinda approachable at least so there could be some kind of interaction perhaps?

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Probably my ability to create characters. My world building is sometimes iffy and my sentences can be utilitarian, but my characters? Love them, and I think they're one of the best things I do. They feel like people and old friends.

What have you been frequently told by others is your greatest strength as a writer?

Again, probably characters. I once wrote some OC-heavy fanfic and folks would literally tell me how much they loved the OCs. Which, particularly in the world of fanfic, I feel like says a lot.

When my sentences aren't just utilitarian, I can come up with some very poetic turns of phrase, which people also point out as a strength, but I've gotta say that mostly it's my characters.

How do you feel about your own writing?

When I am in the midst of writing it? Sometimes my feelings are definitely "I am terrible at this, but I can fix it later" and then when I revisit it, I often go "Damn, that's not bad, actually."

I will reread my own stories just because I love them so much. I have lost so many hundreds of hours going back through documents and rereading things. I wrote them to adhere to my desires, so why wouldn't I love them?

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

Probably! Assuming that I'm not spending all my time trying to survive as the lone person in some post-apocalyptic wasteland and needing to scavenge for food and water and find/maintain a shelter. Do I like sharing my stuff? Sure - though it's been a long time since I posted much of it anywhere people can find it, and now I freeze up a little bit at putting things out there again, but I digress.

If there was no one else around, I might actually write MORE because if I was the only person left alive in the entire freaking world, I would probably need something to entertain myself and fend off the crazies.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I would say a little bit of both, but more what I enjoy. If I put something in that would be for someone else, it's more of a "I bet [Specific Friend] will also get a kick out of this moment" than a consideration for a nebulous future reader.

[resmyx]

The Legend of Risen Devils is a story best told in four parts. Aina is an unreliable storyteller, not because she's dishonest, but because she can't tell the difference between dreams and reality. Approach her in four different ways, and you'll hear four different stories.

These four stories are: Lessons, Personal, Factual, and Recovery. Links below to the other parts.

Legend of Risen Devils: Lessons

Legend of Risen Devils: Personal

Legend of Risen Devils: Recovery

Legend of Risen Devils: Factual

You're a hero. Your sword and armor clink with every step as you walk through the gardens and take a seat, like you're meant to be here. Then you remember your manners and take off your hat.

You wait for Aina to meet you here. You don't know what she looks like, but you've heard the legends. Her daydreams become reality. She's practically a goddess. There's some girl here waiting too on the next bench.

Eventually, you connect the dots and say, "Hey cute girl, maybe are you Aina? I've lost my way and I'm looking for the truth. I heard you know the truth I'm looking for. I'll listen...?"

It was the 2,584th year of the 4th age, right at the end of the age, when my parent's formula was solved. People should remember the date and event like it's a real thing. It's real to me. It's not just a story or a myth. It's for-sure not just a myth.

Remember the year. In 2584, everyone in applied anything is celebrating the 17th golden year and everyone wants to make a stunning discovery. Every golden year except the last, there's been huge advancements in all arcane research. The 16th golden year was 1597 for y'all not in applied mathemetics.

Technically the essentials of natural law were discovered in 1597, but my parents disliked the essentials, so it was just a myth to me. Maybe I should read about the essentials. Maybe the essentials were real and good. Maybe the hurry to discover something in that year was not as panicked as I had heard.

It was my parents' formula. It wasn't anyone else's; it was theirs. As their only child, I have a special mythical story... and I have a special opportunity to tell everyone about my real experiences. My parents brought an end to many worlds, plural, and they ended a golden age.

That formula led to the ascensions and the ascensions mark the beginning of the 5th age. We're living in the 5th age. It's not the next age, or the best age, or the nameless age. The 4th age was not a myth or legend.

The solution to my parents' formula involves opening breaches that never close. When this solution was proposed, my parents had a big fight over it. They'd never fought before.

Eira walked into that elemental chamber as a silly young girl with her favourite wooden fox mask. She emerged as a silly immortal fox-goddess with countless faces and countless tails. It was a success, and it marked the beginning of the ascensions and the 5th age.

With Eira's successful ascension, her father finally had the bravery to ascend himself. He ascended into time, and decided to offer ascension to anyone willing to pay for it, especially to disabled people like ascension was a cure for a sickness.

Legends tell of devils rising up from the earth to rule us from above. If you remain where you are, you will suffer their torment. This torment isn't for nothing. If you believe and you survive long enough the good in your heart and in others' hearts will someday convert the devils into gracious angels. If you prefer not to remain, you may rise to join the ranks of the risen devils of legend.

Please remember reality, my reality, and do not speak of the legends. In the 17th golden year, a research paper was published which coined the word "god" in a scientific context. It contained my parents' formula and Eira's father's solution. In the 5th age, scholars throughout the worlds began verifying the theory and performing ascensions.

In the 5th age, many prominent public figures became disabled, then recovered through ascension. It was harder to connect to elements through breaches and rifts. Many guessed that the elemental planes had been tainted by people flowing backwards through their breaches. Many stars found themselves without power as their rifts closed, forcing their billions of citizens to ascend or to die in the void.

In the 4th age, the world was a hollow sphere. There is no horizon because the land curves upwards the further away it is. With a good telescope, anyone can make a map of the whole world. People didn't live just in the land, they also lived in the sky. A few golden years ago large scale rift power was achieved, allowing whole cities of billions to fly and sustain themselves. My world was home to two or three trillion people, but it still felt small and cozy.

In the 5th age, there are 252 flat planes disconnected from one another. At the edge of every plane is an astral fog that appears grey and sparkly. Travel deep into the fog, and you'll find yourself floating in an endless black void that used to be the 4th age's sky. People in the 5th age call it the astral plane. The worlds of the 5th age are actually small, and quite claustrophobic to everyone from the 4th age.

Those aren't the only changes. More than specific people becoming disabled then the world at large, more than the world changing shape, magic changed too. People found they couldn't remember the langauge of magic anymore. Ritual magic became impossible. Books with the language of magic seemed to be gibberish.

In the 5th age, the only magic available was cursed in origin. My sisters and I suffered severe rift radiation growing up and our chaotic untamed magic remained. The ascended could invent their own magic. For everyone else... they had to roll for luck to get new classes of magic invented by the gods.

Want to guess how many people resisted? Only billions. How about uh, how many people still resist today? There's just us. We're hardly a million, maybe less. Here in Ferula, we are hidden away in a timeless place disconnected from the planescape. One day we will return. One day the gods will fear us.

Remember the heroine who brought us here. She ascended to the highest level of power with a pure heart. She was scarred by the worst of the gods. She seeks to free all of the world from the grasp of tyranny. She is the legend people should remember, but don't. Her name is Eliyra.

Legend of Risen Devils: Lessons

Legend of Risen Devils: Personal

Legend of Risen Devils: Recovery

[arleneworld22]

My week...

Well my bestie called me to acept my invitation to go to the FIL after our works this friday and this is an special oportunity 'cause I can't see him often because he lives at US (I promised to give him a coffee to the special touch hehe) I hope this time we don't have problems, most of the time after or before we meet his mom... I don't want to confirm anything, but looks like she always try to not let him meet me, because most of the time after we meet she acts in this... dramatic way, so I hope he doesn't get problems this time. Live music starts at 8pm btw.

The offer for this job... I don't wanted at first because of what I explained, but also because they didn't tell me where I'm going to work, but said some things that gave me some clues about where and I don't have a very good impression of there. But today when I handed in my documents and signed many things they already gave me more details, first, this is not an official contract, it's temporary for a few months (or maybe one who knows) but I can get all the benefits like an official position; but after some time if they see that I'm very good at it, they can offer me the official position, so it could be like a prove to that and see if I can do more of this kind of works. the process to this work is a little extended so maybe in may we can get the big news. Oh btw is in HR department so at least is something consistent with my career <3. Thank you so much for your supportive words, they helped me to feel a little less guilty and try to have a better attitude into this.

About your gf, I never think something bad about her, I pass for this kind of problems too, so there's no reason to that, but I've to admit that it crossed my mind "breakup because he wants her attention and because of her temper it's absurd", but this are common problems in a relationship with a pretty simple solution so all this time I was very worried about that xd, thanks for telling me that you are better now, I hope you continue nurture your relationship. <3

I really really like to know more about you, like thinking about you running somewhere, you studying, riding a bike, playing with your doggies...now I sound creep xd, well anyways I'm honest; I have 2 doggies too! Darwin has a son, his name is Jhonny "Bravo" (that's a short funny story, I'm going to tell you other day) he is almost 2 years old but still acting like a puppie, it's cute.

Last hour my dad told me that my grandma needs me to go to the US to accompany her to the hospital for check-ups, she has cancer since... I can't remember, maybe more than 8 years, but she gets careless recently and she gets very weak for that, she is getting a little better now so that's why she wants to go. Last year I accompany her to medical oppointments maaaany times in the US and thanks for that we spent a lot of time together and getting to know each other more <3. I discovered that she really likes to read a lot like me, that one of her favorite books is Robinson Crusoe and I liked that book too, we both are very distracted, we love go to shopping and look very closely at stores, we both like to talk about education topics, that we really enjoyed walking, also that we both have problems organizing our times and even more; my mom says that we are like twins and that's not exactly a good combo lol. So I know tomorrow is going to be a little tired, but well, I couldn't see her in like 2 months because of work so this is an opportunity to that, I hope I can bring her some flowers.

Champion’s dinner // Today’s sky

My camp half-blood t-shirt // Moon last night

There are more more more and MORE things that I want to write you but I have to sleep xd