#MY POINT IS. if we want to take the pressure off ourselves with art. i think we also gotta treat ourslves like this

[mcytblraufest]

Since it looks like battleship is going to win the poll, I was wondering if the mods would be willing to consider a limit to how many fics one person could post in a time frame (ie one fic a day, or something similar) as while I understand the idea is to post as quickly as possible, I have found in the past events that value quantity over quality aren't as enjoyable. Many feel pressured into posting before they're ready in the name of posting as fast as possible. Having a limit could ensure we feel able to give ourselves time to polish/edit our works.

That is a good thought! We were planning to take on Battleship's rules for this, which says that creators can only turn in a max of seven works per battleship board, and a max of 50k or equivalent art points for boss battles (where you earn points with word count).

In practice, I know multifandom battleship has found that to be a good limit, encouraging people to go for more tags and longer works, while still leaving room for 300-word fics for when you need a triple drabble hitting a niche tag. (The funny thing there is I was about to use the example of the tag my team found hardest to hit in multifandom, which was "adoption", and somehow I think that that will not be as much of an issue in MCYT). We don't want to limit the amount of fics posted per day, because hitting a tag four times in succession with triple drabbles is also a viable battleship tactic, but as each board is expected to take between 5 days or a week, limiting to 7 per board works out to about a fic a day, with wiggle room for the day you have to work late, but the next day you have off. And then once there the boards have cleared, there will be an editing phase for everyone to polish up their work before posting. Multi-fandom did 48 hours but I know a lot of people spoke about that being too short, we might extend it to 72 hours.

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

Lemuria Pottery- Chapter one

Rafayel x y/n, pottery au?

You decide to take some pottery classes at a pottery studio run by Rafayel...

I rushed through the doors of the quaint, small, pottery studio downtown. l had always wanted to take a class here, drawn to the decor I could spot from the outside. The problem was, I had no one to go with. I had tried, and failed, many times to get someone to go with me. So I finally bit the bullet and decided to just take a pottery class alone. How bad could it be? Then I woke up late the day of the class, threw on some clothes and did my makeup on the way there. When I stepped, or really burst, through the doors, I was greeted by many eyes on me, which made me regret even coming in the first place. Even more so when it appeared everyone was there as a couple, or at least friends, but the closeness of many of them told me otherwise. “You must be (y/n)?” a voice asked. I turned to see a man tying on an apron with a smile. I nodded, stunned by his appearance and suddenly regretting my outfit choice. I had no time to really think, just throwing on some sweats and a tee shirt. “Glad you made it, there should be an open seat there,” he pointed to an empty station near the back of the room. I nodded and quickly grabbed an apron, as everyone else already had and sat down as quickly as possible. Off to such a great, embarrassing start.

The class was taught by the same man who had greeted me at the door. He introduced himself as Rafayel, the owner of the studio. We all got started, sketching a design and then learning to throw the clay on the wheel. The class I had signed up for was actually a set of classes, as I wanted to do this right. Today was the first of three. After Rafayel explained the basics of what to do, he let us try it ourselves, reminding us that today was more about getting a feel for the art, rather than completing our entire project in that class. I had decided to play it safe and attempt to make a simplistic vase. But that was more for next week, today I was just focusing on trying to understand what affected the clay and how. Needless to say, I was struggling. I took a peek around the room, watching a couple working together on their piece. Another couple just having fun with the clay. Rafayel walked around, helping those he could. I sighed. This was a terrible idea. I should have known the class would be filled with couples. I sighed, looking down at the clump of clay on my wheel. I couldn’t let my money go to waste though, so I had to make this vase and I wanted it to be good. So I began again, attempting to slowly press down my foot on the pedal and wrapping my hands around the clay to shape it. It thunked against my hands, the wheel beginning to spin too fast before I quickly lifted my foot off the pedal in fear of the clump flying across the room. Unknown to me, Rafayel had watched the scene, a small smirk on his face. “Try adding some more water to it,” he instructed me. I looked up at him, his presence only just being known to me. “Oh, uh, okay,” I answered. I moved my hands to the bowl of water next to me and dipped my hands in, adding water to the clay. I looked up at him and he nodded. So I continued, readying my hands and beginning to add pressure to the pedal to make the wheel spin. And it all went wrong. I miscalculated the pressure my foot was adding, making the wheel spin far faster than it should. The added water made the clay slide around, flinging small clumps of watery clay onto my face and clothes. I yelped, immediately moving my hands away and lifting my foot up. But the clay didn’t like not being held while spinning fast and it jumped off of the wheel straight towards Rafayel. He was quick, catching it before it hit him in the stomach. My jaw dropped in shock. “Oh my God…I am so sorry,” I said, stunned. “I- well, I don't even know what happened. Good God this is the worst. I’m sorry-” I began stuttering, still in utter shock. I heard a gentle laugh and looked to see Rafayel trying hard not to laugh. Failing, and bursting into laughter. 

“Is your foot made of lead? I’ve never seen a wheel spin so fast!” he laughed, causing some of the couples to look over and see what he was laughing at, some hiding their laughter from me. My face heated up and I began to sweat, completely embarrassed and feeling a panic attack approach. I lowered my head, screaming at my brain to calm down and ignore their laughter. Why did I think this was a good idea? Slowly, Rafayel crouched down and met my eyes, tears beginning to well up in them and I avoided eye contact. “Hey,” he softly said, attempting to grab my attention, but failing to grab my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s no big deal, really. I’ve done plenty worse in my days. Why don’t you go wash up and then I can help you when you’re feeling a bit better, yeah?” I nodded, wanting to get away and honestly never come back to this studio again. “Head up the stairs and go in the door to the right. There’s a bathroom down the hall to the left, second door on the left, got it?” I nodded, though was a bit confused on where this supposed bathroom was. I was under the impression this studio only had one floor. Rafayel extended his hand to me and I nervously took it, him pulling me to my feet and nodding his head in the direction of a staircase I had only just now noticed. I quickly made my way to the stairs, not daring to look at anyone in the room. How embarrassing. 

There was only one door when you went up the stairs, so that’s the one I went through and was suddenly confused. I was met with the view of a cluttered, but chic living room. Does Rafayel live above the pottery studio? Why had he told me to go up here for a bathroom? Blinking away some tears that had escaped, I turned to the left to see a hallway and went down it to find a bathroom. It was a standard bathroom, though honestly it was much easier to calm down in than a typical public restroom. I sat on the edge of the bath, steadying my breath. Once I began to feel calmer, the embarrassment slightly less painful, I stood to take in my appearance. I had bits of clay everywhere. I winced at the sight. I turned on the sink and attempted to get off as much as I could, frowning as I realized my makeup would come off with it. It was that or clay all over my face, so I chose no makeup and clay. I took another deep breath before opening the door and heading back through what I assumed was Rafayel’s place. I felt like I was impeding on his space, but I couldn’t help but glance at the artwork spread throughout. There were gorgeous paintings as well as pottery, equally as aesthetic. I shut the door behind me and quickly made my way back downstairs and to my seat. Thankfully, no one seemed to pay attention to it. I knew most people wouldn’t even remember the fiasco, instead remembering how much fun they had with their significant other, but I surely would remember. A few minutes after I sat down, Rafayel came over to me. “I’m sorry again, I really didn’t mean to upset you,” he said, keeping his voice down for only me to hear. I shook my head. 

“You’re fine, really. It’s just a me thing,” I chuckled. He nodded. 

“Better now though? Wanna try again?” he asked. I nodded. He grabbed a nearby chair and sat it down next to mine, sitting in it. I grew nervous at the close proximity. He was close. “I’ll start with the pressure on the wheel, think of it like you’re driving, you don’t want to floor it. I’ll begin and then you join- are you listening?” he suddenly tilted his head, smirking. I snapped out of whatever that was and nodded. “You’re going to use the pedal and then I’ll join,” I repeated his instructions. He nodded and smiled. He pressed down, the wheel beginning to spin. Then nodded at me. I moved my foot next to his, pressing down. “Up a bit, you’re putting more pressure than I am,” he noted. I nodded, doing as he said. “There, just like that, yeah. Perfect. See? Now it’s at a manageable pace.” I nodded. He took his foot off the pedal, just allowing me to get used to it, encouraging me or telling me to let up a bit. “Now that you have that, try doing what you did earlier, but this time it's not spinning quite so fast. Make sure to use a bit more water and make sure you have a good hold on the clay.” I nodded and slowly did as he instructed, finally successfully making the clay move. I felt myself begin to smile, finally getting somewhere as the clay raised with my hands. “Perfect,” I heard Rafayel say, looking to see him smile before standing and placing a hand on my shoulder before going to go help a couple who was struggling. I spent the rest of the class getting used to the feeling of the clay and attempting to shape it in different ways. 

[carolmunson]

Hey. So like. I hope it's okay to come here and ask for advice. Nothing serious, promise, and I'm also discussing it with a real life support system, so no pressure!

You are, by admission, a bad bitch in her thirties. I am turning thirty this month. I don't have kids, I don't want them, and because of that I kind of feel lost. Like, my whole life has had a blueprint sort of up to this point. The script was "go to college, get a job, get married, have a baby". Now I'm queer, unsure if I want marriage even though I'm in a happy committed relationship, and definitely not someone who wants children.

My partner mentioned I've been talking about not wanting kids a LOT lately. It's not because I've changed my mind, or because I'm worried he'll change his mind. It's just because I don't know what life looks like when I step off the path. Every woman in my family had 3 kids by the time she was 30. I feel like I don't have role models, and that's confusing.

Have you ever felt this way? Who do you look up to?

In my late twenties I did feel pressure to start a family but after I passed the threshold of my 30s (and the fact that other people in my family fulfilled the grandchild need for my parents) I don't feel pressure to have children. I'm 31 and still unsure about it. I look up to a lot of people! Some with kids, some without. How I'll feel in five years might be different than how I feel now. However, I do live in a major city where A LOT of people my age are unmarried and without kids. A lot of us, since we are all in the arts, are JUST finding our footing in our early thirties within our careers to even take care of ourselves. I feel a lot of support in knowing I'm not falling behind.

Before my 30s I was nervous that I wasn't on track to follow my sister's timeline (she has followed a fairly traditional, school, college, job, married, kids timeline). But after now surpassing her 'first kid' milestone age, I don't feel so bad about it. We live totally different lives and have totally different lifestyles! I met a photographer the other day who is 37 and is pregnant with her first. I know bodies and eggs etc are different, but at the end of the day (with doctor consultation I guess) there is still always time. It's a long life. Take the time that you have to enjoy it -- you're not ahead or behind. You're exactly where you're supposed to be.

[proseinborderland]

NSFW Musical Magnetism - UPDATED!

Kyūma x Reader / OFC - NSFW 18+

Musical Magnetism - Part II

Rating: Mature / NSFW / 18+

Description: Kyūma has a transcendent experience with a fan following a show. & Smut ensues.

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

Part Two

Her agreement and the way she acquiesced to my touches filled me with a sensation of warmth and trust. The sentiment and insight of knowing that, not only did she accept me, but she also wanted to take part in my sensual and erotic invitation, swelled within my chest as I smiled down at her, our foreheads still touching. 

She was soft and pliable under my guidance as I nodded against her, then began motioning her further back onto the bed. The faint glow from a small bedside lamp combined with a view of the Tokyo Skyline created an elusive ambiance that bounced contours of light across the room, casting shadows upon the contours of our bodies. 

 Once we were properly laying side by side, I felt her move closer to me. Quickly sensing both her hesitation as well as her desire; I could feel her breath change, see the rise and fall apart in her chest as I glanced down at the beautiful curves of her cleavage. Our lips then found the others rapidly, as though we were being pulled together by some magnetic force. 

The desire I possessed for her was intense, intriguing, and it captivated me in the most intoxicating ways. My insatiable appetite, already attuned to her, painting erotic portraits of her in my mind, imagining her in all mediums of art, while my hands wanted to memorize every inch of her until I could sculpt her, if only as a form of subconscious remembrance. 

My arousal quickly made itself known as she bridged the gap between our hips, feeling the rush of blood flow changing, causing the nerves in my pelvis to tremble under the tight barrier of my jeans. I pulled her closer, noticing her arm slipping around my back, and then gently rolled my hips into hers. The act itself elicited similar, breathless moans from both of our mouths as the sensation and relief brought upon by that simple, minute amount of contact and pressure hummed throughout the both of us.

My eyes scanned her face, searching for the reaction I yearned for.  --The sweet blush that crept up in her cheeks and a smile that was only meant to look shy, as she felt my pulsing erection pressing gingerly up against her. I then deepened our kiss, feeling her tongue seek entrance, licking at my opened mouth, and nipping at my lower lips. I wanted to devour her the way that my passion was devouring me. The cinnamon sweetness of her mouth remained in sync with my own as our tongues sought out an intemperate dominance, only then to submit to the other’s kiss willingly, it was as if we were choreographing a sugary sweet dance with our lips.

“You’re intoxicating...” I professed, as I brought my lips to her ear, and then continued, “I know you can feel how hard I am for you.” My words were met with a genuine shyness, made apparent to me by the way she ceased her movements and hesitated to make eye contact once my gaze had returned to meet hers. 

“I could kiss you for an eternity....” She allowed herself to trail off, rather than concisely finish her sentence. Meanwhile, my hand had tangled itself in her hair and my kiss at the pulse point to the right of her neck, “It’s just … that you feel a lot bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with.”

A compliment that made my pride swell and my cock to throb - intoxicating; however, it was nothing I hadn’t heard before.

“We’re nowhere near that part right now, my love.” I responded, “I promised you pleasure tonight.”

I felt her nod against my head in response. 

I couldn't tell you how long we spent wrapped up in one another, sharing kisses, smiles, and occasional glances. Enjoying ourselves in the present moment and allowing ourselves to both feel alive as well as share the art and experience of simply feeling and feeling something together.

When I felt her nudge against my hips, using her body rather than her words to tell me what she longed for, I happily obliged in the same fashion, placing my hand on her hip to steady myself and control my movement as I rolled my hips into hers more forcefully than I had previously. I felt her breath hitch and her eyes met mine as she wrapped her leg around my waist in an attempt to pull me down and on top of her. Close couldn’t feel close enough in this state, if ever at all. 

TBC...

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

→ Part I

→ Link to my AO3

✨Huge thanks to my lovely mutuals! @chishiyashoodie @boohbear19 @sweetflanfiction @brdpch ✨

[tseneipgam]

The Psychopathology of a Writing Life by Deborah Levy

"Fiction is a good home for the reach of the human mind. It can give shelter to all the dimensions of consciousness, including the unconscious. If the writer is hospitable to this idea, and if the task interests us enough, we will find our own literary strategies to build our home…The human mind can go anywhere. This is a good thing in art. In life this is not always a good thing. We know that unwelcome thoughts can torment us and that we ingeniously find our own private magic to see them off. In art there is a place for this kind of private magic…When we create characters or avatars to carry our ideas into the worlds of our fictions, it is desirable to want to access the unknowing parts of their minds, as well as their more conscious motivations. There is plenty of pressure to numb our minds. Corporate culture likes to reduce human experience to the many questionnaires we are invited to tick or cross. The questionnaire has implicitly written the story for us…. With this in mind, it is important and exciting to say and think things we do not yet understand. If we are reaching for something that is there anyway, in ourselves, in the world, the struggle in the writing is to connect our thoughts and make visible something that is seemingly impossible to convey. When we pay too much attention to the commercial health and safety regulations for getting published, it is likely that our writing will become so hyper-intelligible that it tragically dies before it opens its eyes. If coherence is achieved at the expense of complexity, it is not really coherence… Any kind of coherence that flattens or sanitizes the world of our fictions or offers false consolations for the anxieties that make us interesting or resolves conflicts and restores moral order in unbelievable ways, or that dulls the awkward, fragile, illogical, incoherent parts of living a life, simply does not have enough dimensions. The point of life is to tune in to all its dimensions, including the ecology of the natural world….. I also used Google to research the following subjects: how a sandblaster works, the physiology of a sigh, immigrant tomato pickers in southern Spain, how a handkerchief is arranged in the jacket pocket of an old-fashioned gentleman's suit. Facts. I really need them to tune the reality levels of my book so that I can do a deal with you, the reader, when I subvert the reality levels of my book. I can't subvert a reality unless I create a reality… All narrative is a Trojan Horse. What is hiding in its belly and what is hiding in its mouth? It's always a very good thing to put a few drawing pins under the self-righteous bullying butt of narrative - we have got to keep it alert and make it scream a little and make sure it does not settle into an armchair with a kitten on its lap. Narrative loves itself too much and wants you to adore it too. Sometimes narrative is so begging, it actually passes around the chocolates and chuckles as it warms its hands by a crackling fire… If I am an avant-garde writer and want my work to be appreciated for the beauty of its formal innovation, it would be an innovation to accelerate high emotion rather than avoid it completely for fear it will stain my shirt….It’s exciting to lose as much fear as possible when it comes to writing, because that's the only way to be open enough to make something new. There's never any point in straining to make something new, but usually when we do, it's because we have taken a risk. You will have your own ideas about what taking a risk means to you. So long as we do not pluck out the heart of our mystery (to misquote Shakespeare), there will always be something interesting to do with language."

[kimberlyannharts]

misc thoughts on Issue #121 -

= On paper this is a fine character study for Billy but as I've said before it's weakened by how a) literally nothing happens for Billy to think he needs to take such a big drastic step and b) no one stops him to be like "we literally have a plan we're pulling off RIGHT NOW. Slayer's been gone for like....an hour. And we know how to both protect ourselves from infection AND cure people from infection". The event clearly wants it to be like.....after all the loss Billy's dealt with and the pressure on him, he's hit such a low point that he's resorting to crossing a line, but it just doesn't translate well because of how nothing happens in this issue - compared to how last issue Ari gets pushed to the edge by losing half her team, including Remi. To contrast, Billy's team just got FULLY REUNITED now that Rocky and Adam are back (traumatized, but still back) and he has his own little tech support group of Kendall and Phantom Ranger. They seem to want to center a lot of his grief on the loss of Grace, and the Power Eggs being broken, but.......like........idk, man. Grace/Billy really wasn't a positive relationship, not like Grace/M*tt was trying to be before she died. It just doesn't really work for me. And the rules for the Power Eggs and how oh if they break /this/ will happen and oh now the Arch is breaking too just feel all over the place so that's also hard to take seriously as stakes

= It's funny to me how they talk about Adam and Rocky being unable/unwilling to see their families but it's really just Rocky's family because we never had even a hint of Adam's family life

= Repeating my point from earlier notes that everyone who thinks Jason got "put out to pasture" because he's not a Ranger anymore is reading an entirely different event because he has the most screentime in this issue than any of the MMPRs besides Billy. Kim, Zack, and Trini's current whereabouts aren't even referenced

= I think Kiya/Billy is the most interesting thing in this issue, as they're both Blue Rangers with such wildly different personalities and ideals which makes their interactions more interesting than other paired Rangers like Jason/Taylor, but something about Alt-Trini's involvement in here bugs me. I guess it's how she goes along too easily with Billy? Wouldn't she bring up Slayer's plan? I know they try to justify her inclusion by bringing back her old speech about doing what they have to to survive but I'm just not a fan of how going through the motions she is

= Really hate how Kendall comes off pleading and desperate and helpless at the end there. And I mean....she is desperate. But I think it goes back to how she doesn't really feel like Kendall outside of being smart. She should have gotten angry and fought back!!!!!

= Aisha being with M*tt and not ROCKY AND ADAM, HER FRIENDS THAT SHE FREED sucks. And no, I'm not buying the stupid "well, you can only help if you were there" thing because if that was the case, why was she able to help M*tt during his evil-induced panic attacks? Whatever.

= Guess we'll find out tomorrow if we're allowed to be pissed off at Billy for this or if they'll do some nonsense "actually this was the right thing to do" turn. Like he's definitely being framed as irrational and going too far, but are we really going to END THE MAIN SERIES with everyone as angry at him as they should be? Like.....this has to end with everything okay, shouldn't it??

= This doesn't apply to Kendall and Phantom Ranger though they have every right to exit the series pissed off at him, even if there's a happy ending

= The double spread of Drakkon's actions in Shattered Grid is still the best part of the issue. Gorgeous art and reminding everyone that Shattered Grid is still That Girl everyone wants to be, to the point that we're trying to be Shattered Grid....two issues before the end of the entire series

[mokutone]

I'm drawing Kakashi for the first time (as much as I love them, I rarely ever draw naruto characters so this is a little fun and new for me) and I'm struggling a little bc I'm trying to draw him relaxed, reclining with pakkun (in the way I recline with my cat) and I'm realizing there's something so personal abt drawing him in such a vulnerable pose ig. Like? I'm very tired too rn so maybe I'm being extra emotional and rambly but there are so few scenes of kakashi in canon where he's not wearing the jounin vest, where he's alone and relaxed and out of uniform. And I didn't realize it until I was trying to think back to other similar scenes and there really weren't any. and I'm kind of mesmerized by how you draw him because you capture that so so well, your art is gorgeous but it's also so real and expressive in a way that shows a lot of practice and a lot of love. Idk i think I've said this before and I'm sorry if it's annoying that I'm saying it again (I'll just shut up after this lol) but I went to an art school and I had massive burnout and only really started drawing again in the past 6 months and you were one of my inspirations 2 start drawing again and I'm still not as good as I'd like to be but I draw so much more now and having an actual passion for art has led to a huge improvement, so thank you and thank u for bearing with me and my sleep-deprived rambles. I think my original point got sidetracked. I forgot why i started writing this ask.

dkgjhsdgkjdshg no i think you're 100% right abt the kakashi relaxed thing, even when we see him "relaxed" he doesn't ever really Look relaxed. like

here he is chilling out in the hot springs. this man does not look relaxed but he DOES look exhausted and maybe a little like he's gotten lost. somebody help this confused man find the exit.

anyway art + motivation talk beneath the cut

djhsdkjghsdkjhg thank u for all the compliments abt my art, i do work really hard in order to draw expressive characters, and spend a lot of time paying attention to how the small details in posture and expression change how the character comes across, and im glad it pays off!

also yeah no, similarly, once i left art school (when the pandemic hit) i did have a good 6 months where i did not pick up the pencil even once, and like, usually i feel rlly bad or guilty when i'm not drawing, but my burnout was real bad and i was straight up angry abt everything dgkjhsdgkjh so i just...didn't draw for like 6 months. i didn't even feel bad about it bc i was too busy being angry

and i had a bad relationship with art at the time and eventually realized i kind of had to like? make a different relationship with art—like, try to stop seeing art as something which gave me fundamental worth as a human being, or part of who i am? you know? that's a LOT of pressure to put on just...something that i do. if i took that kind of approach to literally any other task in my life, i'd never do it. imagine thinking that the way and style with which you descend the stairs gives you your worth as a person and if you don't do it exactly right then it means you're worthless as a person? buddy i'd just find a way to go down and out through the window LMAO

i think this is the thing which gives a lot of people burnout, it's exhausting to be constantly working on something and ALSO believe that if you fuck it up even a little, it's because you are the fuckup, and a fundamental failure of a person. god thats so much pressure.

anyway so i decided to make a naruto art blog because i don't even like naruto That Much but my best friend had been trying to get me into it for years (ty kate ilu kate), and so any art that i made would be purely for fun, wouldn't have anything to do with my self worth, and might make kate laugh too, and that's why this blog exists! and taking the pressure off of creating art like that has been enormously helpful to my mental health and my ability to create, also i take breaks alllllll the time, i'm like...way healthier about my art thanks to that, and also just...a nicer person, i think? anyway i'm very glad that i inspired you to get back into art but i'm far more glad that you've found a passion for it, cultivating that passion and joy is so important

[cryptonature]

Seeking Peace while the Work is Unfinished

As I continue my lifelong work to understand my own mind, I've been thinking about the difference between constructive and destructive mindsets. The difference between fighting and building. Opposing and cultivating. Condemning and celebrating. It's no secret that we need our destructive mindsets to oppose injustice, fight those who do harm, and speak out against abusers, bigots, fascists, etc. We also know that social media uses our innate prioritization of threats to hold our attention and keep us scrolling. And yet... I think it's clear that what makes the world (and the inside of our skulls) a joyful, livable, sustainable place to dwell requires constructive mindsets. Building shelter. Building communities. Food. Art. Education. Childcare. Science. Medicine. Fun and leisure. For me, it seems that the default structure of our current media/cultural climate pulls toward a destructive mindset. This pull is very hard on my mental health. However, it's a nuanced thing to discuss because the forces I want to resist legitimately should be resisted. It feels complicated because both reason and a respect for my own sense of wellbeing tells me to intentionally turn toward a constructive mindset, but in doing so I must make an active choice to turn away from unaddressed threats/problems/injustices. Like many issues that feel complex, the problem arises from dichotomous thinking. The idea that we dedicate ourselves solely to one or the other, to constructive or destructive thinking. It's a false choice. We can't do two things at once and we need to make room for both. The balanced approach seems simple enough, but I think finding that balance requires me to acknowledge that there are vast, sophisticated tools/algorithms/financial interests pressing down on the 'destructive mindset' side of the scale. The problem is exacerbated by the abstract, placelessness we feel as citizens of the internet and people who have been cut off from our physical contexts by the pandemic (and other factors). We become inhabitants of social media. It becomes our environment. Threat as place. So, the deck is stacked against us when we seek ways to exercise constructive mindsets, to find hope and pleasure. But, here's the thing. I suffer from painful, chronic depression which, paradoxically, gives me some interesting tools to fight back against these forces. I am well acquainted with insidious pressures trying to steer me toward hopelessness. I am well acquainted with having to make a conscious effort of will to turn toward positivity, to go outside, to recognize when my dread stems from forces beyond my immediate control. Revolutions may need to fight, but they also need to feed people, to make life worth living, to present a vision of a world that feels worth inhabiting. Destructive mindsets have their place, but we miss the point when we let them define our identities completely. So, I seek out things that make me feel hopeful. I stubbornly allow for the idea that many of my fellow humans are good, are smart, are worthy, are interesting, are enriching the world. I recognize that social media isn't a trustworthy representation of our reality. I adopt the self-care stance that in this flawed, complicated, temporary world, the local trees and birds are also deserving of a portion of my undivided attention and that giving it to them is neither a surrender to evil nor an immoral act of self-indulgence. We are all different and we need different things. But I argue that, regardless of context, each of us deserves/needs rest and peace and pleasure. Sometimes, the portion of nature for which we are best positioned to care and preserve is ourselves. Yes, I think we should oppose evil. We should take action. We should do good works. But if you find yourself living in a state of constant dread or hopeless anger, I want to recommend that there is a healing balance to be found between destructive/constructive mindsets. We are all fundamentally worthy of seeking this balance. Of finding our hope. Of rediscovering our place and peace. Of forgiving ourselves for what we do not control. Of allowing ourselves to be simple, natural animals enjoying the beauty of this flawed, lovely world.

[bushdivingbushranger]

What was going to an all girls school like, if you don't mind me asking? :)

OK anon im so sorry this is so long and so convuluted I actually got so carried away jdbKJBGKSDBGH. i'm not even sure i properly answered your question i just got overwhelmed with Love for my same-sex schooling DHGKJSDFBHG anyway, if there's anything more you want to know lmk and I will try to be concise next time 💀

Essentially, my own experience at a single-sex secondary school was fantastic—however, I know my experience isn’t universal, especially since my school was a little bit different to most, I think.

That being said, I still think that sending your daughters to female-only secondary schools is something every parent should strive to do if they can. No other learning environment will ever be as good for girls as a same-sex school.

In terms of school staff, mine was about 95% female, and 5% male. The few male teachers we had were genuinely competent men and decent teachers, they were also watched like hawks. Our principal was female, all leadership positions in the school (such as House Leaders, Year Level Co-Ordinators, Department Heads, even the chaplain) were held by women. Our school psychologists, our nurses, our library technicians, our café ladies, our career advisors, our tutors—all were women. Our school houses (think like Harry Potter houses) were named after important women in our country’s history.

I went to a co-ed primary school. And whilst at twelve you might not have the words to describe it, graduating from a co-ed space, into an all-female space is really a giant weight off of your shoulders. You don’t realise how suffocating co-education is until you’re no longer having to bear it. It feels so much more natural, so much more free! You are welcomed as you are. You can be loud and unashamed of it. We joked frequently with each other and our teachers, laughed loudly and cared not whether our laughs were ‘ugly’. I found that teachers were far more supportive than they were in my co-ed school. For example, in a co-ed school I had been told frequently to ‘pipe down’ or to ‘reel it in’ from teachers, and more vexingly to ‘shut up’ from boys due to my boisterous personality. In high school? My teachers encouraged me to audition for the play because I had ‘great projection’. In every school programme (more on those later) that I was involved in, I was the one asked to give speeches about them at assembly. I was asked to be the lead of our house chants during our sports festivals. I was asked to join the debate team because of my passionate nature, which in primary school, had me known as ‘difficult’.

Likewise, I had a friend who was by nature quiet, and loved to draw. In primary school she’d doodled on the back of a work booklet, and when her teacher returned it, she’d taken off two points and had written a comment saying something about teachers in high school not accepting work that was drawn on.

Do you know what happened when she got to high school? Our English teacher had seen the eye she’d drawn on the back of our Romeo and Juliet test and had written, ‘beautiful!’ above it. The next test, she drew a two-headed cat with witches’ hats on both heads (I remember the left head was called Turpentine and the right head was called Esmeralda). Our teacher wrote, ‘wonderful!’ above it, with a smiley face.

The next day she got an email from our art teacher that had a PDF flyer of information on both in-school and local art competitions.

Anyway, she had questions and that teacher answered every single one of them. She also personally helped her select the works she wanted to submit. She ended up having two pieces shown in the school gallery, along forty pieces made by other girls. About five years later for our final year, on that art teacher’s recommendation (and tutelage!) she took all of the visual art subjects on offer. When she graduated, her final piece was shown at a public exhibition in our state’s capital city, that honoured the best pieces done by select graduating students in the state.

So yeah. Our teachers were pretty amazing. Of course, there was the odd teacher or two you would butt heads with but that’s just a universal school experience. Our humanities classes, like history, for example, often had a unit that would focus on the female experience of a certain time period. For example, when learning about WW2, we did projects on female resistance fighters et cetera.

We had health classes that were actually focused on female health. We learnt about female anatomy (even the clitoris! Though we were all about thirteen/fourteen at this time so we found it incredibly awkward to talk about), as well as symptoms of PCOS during our menstrual unit. We learnt about contraceptive methods and devices (however, as a Catholic school they did have to tell us that whilst these methods are available, the church-sanctioned method is of course, abstinence).

Whilst the majority of the girls shaved their legs and wore makeup, as someone who did neither of those things I rarely felt judgement about it (albeit, I think there was a little for my lack of makeup, but this only lasted the first two years). A good portion of our staff also did not wear makeup, I don’t recall this ever being commented on. And, by the time we’d reached about our third year, a good portion of my year level and the ones above did not wear makeup on a daily basis. Leg hair was not looked down upon by any of us I don’t think by this year either. In fact, if you were particularly hairy often your hairless friends asked to rub your legs!

We were never short of female role-models, our staff made sure of that. We had multiple days per year when guest speakers would come and talk to us, mostly these were women who were experts in their fields—whether that be neuroscience or computer science, linguistics and literature or mathematics, politics, et cetera. The only times we really had male guest speakers was when police officers (one male one female) came to give us an assembly about sexual peer-pressure and laws around sharing nudes that was basically, “these are common (male) manipulation tactics used to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do, don’t fall for them”.

We were encouraged to take STEM subjects, and those of us that had taken interest in computer programming were sent to coding programmes in the city during school hours! That’s how keen our teachers were to get more women into the field! This was the same with the girls interested in politics, who got to go to Model UN events, as well as mock parliaments in the country’s capitol.

We had a lot of programmes generally. A few overseas ones for girls who were in LOTE (languages other than English) classes. A few interstate ones, too. And of course, local programmes and excursions. Most of them (aside from the LOTE ones which focused on immersion) were volunteer programmes aimed at helping women and girls. The rest were about furthering our own skills or learning new ones. Majority of these were year-level based, but a few depended on the clubs/groups/classes you were in. For example, I was part of the Writer’s Club, and we took an excursion to the state Writer’s Festival and listened to female writers as well as feminist panels. We also had self-defence programmes every year.

In terms of peers I generally found everyone to be quite amiable by the time we’d reached our third/fourth year. There’s a common myth about all girls schools being filled with ‘catty’ girls who are constantly bitching about one another, but I really did not find that to ring true. There were a few fights and arguments in the earlier years, I was part of quite a lot lol but that’s honestly… just something that happens at school, at any school. Largely, we were good to each other. If someone was crying there was always someone who’d ask her what was wrong. If you missed the notes on the slide, there was always a girl willing to share her notes with you.

I think going to an all-girl’s school, and not having that much interaction with the opposite sex generally for that six-year period truly does something, I think, to your psyche. We are socialised to look down on our fellow woman, socialised to look down upon ourselves. But actually being constantly surrounded by women, and almost ONLY women, really helps to undo that. Even now I could not describe the fierce love I have for all those women and girls I came in contact with during my time there—even the ones I bickered with. Each and every single woman I met there enriched my life in some way or another. I think that is the effect of consistently spending time in any female-only space: developing a true appreciation for women. It is the only reasonable conclusion to come to.

I have been out of high school for two years, and in university for one. Among the many men I have met since, none of them have even been able to hold a candle to the any women and girls I know.

Anyway. TLDR: it slapped, send your daughters to same-sex schools!!

[kiingocreative]

The Structure of Story is now available! Check it out on Amazon, via the link in our bio, or at https://kiingo.co/book

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Performance coach Tony Robbins says that the quality of our lives depends on the state we live in every moment of every day. That state, whether we’re happy, sad, frustrated or excited, depends on three things:

• Our physiology — the way we move our bodies, the way we breathe and what we do with our face.

• Our language — the words we use, whether spoken out loud or inside our own head, to describe our experiences.

• What we focus on — the things we see versus the things we block out or fail to notice.

Today, I want to zone in on that final piece, because what we focus on is key, and it will in turn affect the way you move your body and hold yourself, and the language you use. I see this play out so much around me in general, and in the writing community in particular.

At any given time, the things we focus on determine how we feel and what we make of a situation. And what we focus on, in turn, is governed by the questions we ask ourselves every moment of every day.

Take your writing journey for instance:

If someone leaves you a negative review, do you ask yourself whether this means you’re a failure and your work is a failure? Do you ask yourself how dare that person belittle your work with a bad review? Or do you ask yourself what you can learn from this? Could you ask yourself how good it is that this person was honest in their feedback, so that readers with similar tastes won’t buy your book—and therefore not spend money on a read they might otherwise dislike and rate negatively too?

See how different questions would illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states? Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

‘Why’ Questions: The Endless Loop.

And so it goes that by asking lousy questions, we get lousy answers. Because our brain has this tendency of taking any request we give it and processing it, regardless of whether or not it’s good for us. It’ll scour through the recesses of our mind and go on and on until it finds an answer.

‘Why’ questions are the worst, because there’s often no clear answer, or more than one possible answer to them, and it sends our mind on a chase to find as many possible reasons, processing like a headless chicken, often going around in circles, leaving us ruminating.

Take our example again: What if you asked yourself ‘why is this person leaving me a bad review?’

Now unleash your brain on that one, and let it roll with it—you may get:

• Because they didn’t like the book.

• Because my book is terrible.

• And if my book is terrible, then that makes me a terrible writer.

• Maybe I should just stop writing.

• Who was I to think I could do this?

• I’m clearly not good enough.

• Or maybe they left a bad review because they’re an idiot and didn’t get the brilliance of my work.

• Clearly they’re a moron.

• Maybe I should track them down and tell them just that.

• Maybe I should rally everyone I know on Instagram to shame that dimwit for leaving that review.

• …

… this can go on, until it loops back to the top and starts again. Sounds familiar?

What kind of state do you think you’d be in from obsessing over those disempowering, angering questions, never able to get closure because the loop has no logical end?

Empowering Alternatives.

My own experience of asking myself lousy questions, and my interactions with others within the writing community, have left me convinced that writers need to start asking themselves more empowering questions.

Because the way we tend to ask questions to ourself—those that breed anger, and resentment, and self doubt—ultimately only bring us back to two fears that sit at the root of it all: the fear that we’re not good enough, and the fear that we won’t be loved (or appreciated, or liked). These fears can be crippling. And that can’t be good for anyone’s art anywhere.

I’m writing this today to give you some more empowering alternatives. Some that I have used along my journey and have helped me improve.

Here are four examples:

#1 — gearing up for success:

• Instead of: ‘Why are other writers so much more successful than I am?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can learn from other writers to become more successful myself?’

There’s a lot of comparison out there. We know we shouldn’t fall into the trap of it, but it’s easier said than done.

If you see fellow writers thriving with their writing, their social media strategy or their exposure, try modelling what they do that is working and find what, from that, works for you.

Better even, reach out to people and ask them for advice—most people will be more than happy to share, and it’s a great way to build a network!

#2 — boosting sales:

• Instead of: ‘Why am I not selling books?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What I can do to increase my book sales?’

It can be discouraging to have published something, and to see your sales figures stalling. If you start wallowing in self pity through disempowering ‘why’ questions, you’re bound to start spiralling.

Instead, make a list of what you could do to help your sales along.

Here are some ideas that come to mind:

• Seek out book clubs and put your book on their radar. See if they’d been interested in reading your book and having you for an author Q&A when they’re done reading the book.

• Look into running promotions on Amazon (like discounted eBooks).

• Go local! Reach out to your local community and spread the word (cafes, local bookshops and libraries, local Facebook groups and communities etc.) and give them a chance to support a local.

• Contact your old school or university and enquire about showcasing you and your book as an alumni success story.

• Build genuine connections with fellow writers, avid readers and book bloggers. These relationships are a fantastic way to increase your reach and spreading the word about your book—and as a result, improve sales.

• Offer to do a read and review swap with a fellow author, where you read and review each other’s book.

• And so on.

If you start asking your brain to think outside the box, it’ll do just that!

#3 — the writer’s life:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I be a full-time writer and have financial security from writing?’

• Ask yourself: 'How is my present occupation helping my writing?’

• …And then ask: 'What can I do to increase my revenue from writing?’

This is one topic that’s been crossing my mind a lot, and I suspect many of us out there have pondered it at one point or other. If asked the wrong way, this question can send you spiralling into a frustrated state.

I don’t write full-time at present, and I have had my moments of daydreaming hours away, wishing I could live off my craft. That never led to anything very productive.

What I have found helpful however has been to focus on what my day job enables me to do with my writing:

• It takes away the pressure of earning a full income from writing.

• It gives me time to write and experiment with my craft in different forms.

• It enables me to look into ways to monetise my writing at my own pace.

• And that’s made for much more exciting trains of thought!

#4 — social media guru:

• Instead of: ‘Why can’t I manage to grow my Instagram reach?’ Or ‘why is social media sapping my energy?’

• Ask yourself: ‘What can I do to create a healthier balance when it comes to promotion efforts?’

Social media is a tricky one. It has incredible benefits if leveraged the right way, and it’s an amazing tool to get yourself and your work out there. In fact, I recently wrote a piece on the immense value of joining Bookstagram for writers.

But it can also be a drain, because the mechanisms of social media are built on the principle of addiction. It’s literally designed to suck you in and make you crave more, and fear that you’re missing out and not doing enough.

To avoid falling into that vicious circle, I’ve found it much healthier to ask myself how I can find the right balance to achieve what I want with my social media presence whilst also keeping my sanity. What this ends up being will look different for different people. If you’re unsure where to start, think about what you find challenging about maintaining your social media account, then what you find helps with your peace of mind, and try to find a middle ground somewhere in between that meets your needs.

Ask and thou shalt get.

I’m a firm believer in our ability to manifest our reality—at least to some extent. If you focus on all the wrong things, then your reality will look challenging and bleak.

If you train yourself to look for constructive ways forward and to get yourself excited about making the journey smoother for yourself, then finding that sweet spot that works for you can be a fascinating journey.

And that all starts with asking the right questions. Finding the right point of focus. Writing can be a wonderful, yet at times confusing and challenging journey. So do yourself a favour: where possible, take away those mind blocks that stand in your way!

Different questions about your writing journey illicit different points of focus, and therefore different states. Some are more conducive to a positive mindset, whilst others tend to nurture frustration.

[carpisuns]

do you ever get discouraged by social media? like the fact that a lot of interactions can never go beyond the surface level since you won't get to meet a lot of people irl or the fact that numbers seem to matter so much to how others perceive you? hope this isn't too heavy, just curious to hear your thoughts

hey, sorry it's taken me so long to get back to this! but yes, i definitely know what you mean. social media can be a strange and disheartening space to be in because it's all about perception and not often about truly knowing someone. we all kind of have a version of ourselves that we put out there for the world to see, and it's not necessarily a completely false image, but it's also not the full picture, you know? and in a fandom space like this one, it's mostly built around a single interest or group of interest, which is great for surface-level bonding with people but not necessarily for a deeper relationship. so it can feel hard to build truly meaningful friendships sometimes.

i've been fortunate tho to meet some amazing people online that i now consider some of my dearest friends and closest confidants. it started with bonding over a shared interest, but then we found that we had more in common and started sharing things outside of that one interest and talking about our lives and supporting each other in both our hard times and good times. i feel really blessed and lucky to have these friends in my life, whether we ever get the chance to meet in person or not.

i'm not sure if you're actually looking for advice about this, but if you are, mine would be to just be kind and positive and enjoy interacting with people, and that may naturally lead to deeper friendship. that's how it's worked for me, at least. kinda depends on what your vibe is and how you prefer to interact online but i've made friends by sending asks/messages to people to let them know how much I enjoy their work and by hanging out in discord servers to chat about fandom stuff as well as general-interest stuff. might be a good place to start!

and as for numbers, yeah, that can be frustrating too! i'll be totally honest—i used to care way too much about numbers. at one point it lowkey became an obsession for me 😩 i'd be constantly checking to see how many followers i had and how much attention my posts were getting and i got too invested in watching the numbers go up and too frustrated when they would stagnate and most of all just too focused on comparing my following with other people's. it was especially bad on instagram bc everyone's follower count is on public display and art tends to get a lot more attention there, so i grew way faster and i also watched other people grow at like breakneck speed and leave me in the dust and i would get jealous,,,woof.

but there came a point when i realized that my focus on numbers was not healthy or enjoyable for me and it was making my fandom experience stressful and bitter rather than fun and chill. so i took a little break for a few weeks and really tried to gain some perspective with it all and it helped loads!! i mean i won't say i don't care about numbers at all anymore haha but they definitely don't have the same hold on me. my growth both here and on instagram has slowed down a lot but i honestly don't mind at all and actually may find that preferable haha. idk im just satisfied and comfortable where i am and what i find most fulfilling in fandom is my friendships and my interactions with other fans, not really the individual attention that I get. it's been nice to take the pressure off myself and not worry about performance and instead just kinda vibe lol. like i used to stress when I didn't post new art for a week, but now i just make stuff when i want to and let myself take my time and post when i'm ready instead of rushing out of some self-imposed sense of obligation.

i totally get people's desire to grow a bigger platform, especially creators who have professional ambitions, and it's awesome to celebrate with them when they hit milestones. but i hope that no matter where any of us are, we remember that our worth is not determined by our online following. and also that we are all just regular people with blogs! I think there's a tendency to treat bigger names in the fandom as like pseudo-celebrities or something (i've definitely been guilty of that ), but at the end of the day we're all just big nerds who like talking about a cartoon lol. it's nice when we can all just support each other and share content and discuss ideas and stuff without making people feel unduly pressured bc their following (like putting them on a pedestal, demanding a greater output of content, etc.) or making them feel lesser because of their lack of one. fandom is about community, not competition, and your contributions are valuable even if they get less attention that someone else's!

ok i feel like i've just rambled a lot, sorry lol idk if any of this was actually meaningful/helpful to you but i wish you the best and hope you feel less discouraged about this! 💜

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

would love to see your take on 18 on the trust building meme! love your art and writing 😊

18. Making up after their first argument

“Hey,” Peter Two managed, swaying awkwardly back and forth against the stiff silence that stood between them; it was practically tangible. Peter Three didn’t glance back at him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence—but at least he didn’t instantly snap at him to leave either. “Can we talk?”

Three scoffed at that, briefly tossing his head. “I don’t know, can we? Or are you going to keep nitpicking every little syllable that comes out of my mouth?”

And there it was again, that defensive cynicism that always made Peter Two’s stomach roil. “I wasn’t—! Ugh…” He had to bite the inside of his cheek against his first prickly instinct. He hadn’t come here just to pick up the shouting match where it left off; he came to cool things down. “I didn’t mean for it to come across that way. I’m sorry if I was…”

“Controlling? Overbearing? Micromanaging?”

“…Sure, that. It wasn’t my intention.”

“Then what was it?”

“Trying to help you course-correct your mindset.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t help, okay?” Peter Three finally turned just enough to shoot him a glare. “Having you call me out every time I say anything remotely negative, it doesn’t help! I know how messed up I am and how—how much better you are. I don’t need the reminder.”

“That’s not what this is about!” Peter Two sputtered, aghast. “I’m not better than you, I’ve never thought that for a second! What I am is further along on this path than you are. I’ve been where you are right now. I know all the putdowns, all the self-deprecating little remarks that you—that we play off as ‘jokes’. I know how toxic they can get; I don’t want that for you. It’s so frustrating to hear you saying all these things about yourself! Don’t we get enough of that from the press?”

Peter Three’s narrowed eyes darted away without a word and Two stifled a sigh.

“You and I are used to working alone; it’s easy to get too wrapped up in our own heads because most of the time, we’ve only got ourselves to think about…but now there’s Peter One. We have to set a good example for him; we’re the only people he has to look up to. It hurts him to hear you talk so bad about yourself. He loves you. We both do.”

The muscles in Peter Three’s jaw continued to work for a few more beats before he squeezed his eyes shut, inhaled deeply and forced a small nod. “I know. I know, I know you’re trying to help but it doesn’t exactly feel like love when your little nudges in the right direction are more like manhandling.”

“Okay. I’m sorry for putting too much pressure on you. I guess I thought tough love might be more effective than finger-wagging like my Aunt May…At this point I just don’t know what else I can do.”

“There isn’t anything else. It’s not your job to fix me…I-I shouldn’t be letting you think it is. You’ve been pushing me to be better cos I haven’t been pushing myself. So I let you because I knew you were better about it than I am…and then somehow ended up resenting you for it?” With a halfhearted, humorless attempt at a laugh, he shook his head. “Like I said, it’s all messed up. I’m sorry, man. My self-deprecation, my habit, my problem; I’m the one who has to work on it.”

“And I’ll work on letting you work on it without hovering over you, if you promise you’re actually going to try.”

“Yeah. I’ll try.”

[glowingbadger]

You may have a little Lorenz Prompt as promised. As a treat. Here goes~

Lorenz taking thorough notes to surprise his s/o (is it the blog owner? the reader? some random character? It doesn't matter~!) with the most lovely, romantic date imaginable based around everything they like. He wouldn't put in this much effort to TRULY impress someone, but you're worth every step and more.

Enjoy where this takes your thoughts~!

(and pls don't eat it, Tumblr)

Y'know what, I've had a shitty day and I just finished writing some darker content- so I am going to ~indulge~. Normally I try to make my Reader character as broadly relatable as possible, but today we're going with MY preferences and interests because I WANT A NICE DATE WITH LORENZ GODDAMNIT

Lorenz (FE3H) x GN Reader - perfect date

Fluff - SFW

Today simply has to be flawless- the Gloucester heir will not accept any less. Not when it comes to you. Of course, Lorenz holds himself to high standards in all things, but the thought of providing anything less than perfection for you is one that pains him to even consider. Especially now that he'd finally gotten the courage- or, rather, found the right and proper time to ask you to spend the day with him.

You approach him at the Monastery gates not long after noon that day, and find your pace slowing as you eye him before he's noticed you. Without his usual elegant set of armor, you can appreciate the way constant marching and training has toned his slender frame- and appreciate it, you most certainly do. Though he soon turns to face you, and your eyes dart back up from a rather ignoble place to meet his instead.

"You're as radiant as ever, I see," he says with a warm smile. He offers you an arm and you take it, replying with a grin,

"You've already got me for the day, Lorenz, there's no need for flattery."

"'Flattery' implies a measure of falsehood," he says with confidence, leading you towards town, "and I could never bring myself to lie to one so lovely."

As your time together proceeds, you can't help but feel that, some way, somehow, Lorenz has some kind of psychic insight into your preferences. Everywhere you turn, whatever your heart could desire is immediately available and set before you with hardly any negotiation at play. At the first flower stall you find, Lorenz takes a moment to exchange words with the owner while you admire the sprawling array of colorful blooms; and by the time he's returned, he's holding a woven crown of delicate little white flowers. With an admiring smile, he carefully places it on your head, a hand trailing down a lock of your hair as he pulls away to observe you.

With a shy grin, you perform an exaggerated curtsy, prompting Lorenz to laugh fondly and take you by the hand. He twirls you slowly under his arm, watching you all the while, then says,

"They suit you every bit as wonderfully as I'd thought."

"They're my favorites," you reply.

"I know- erm, that is- I know of a superb bakery down the block this way," Lorenz seems a bit red in the face, but you chalk that up to nerves.

He's not wrong though- this bakery is something else. The selection and quality of ingredients is on an entirely new level compared to the Monastery's dining hall, and you find yourself overwhelmed even reading down the list of items posted to the wall. By your third pass over the full range of options, the words are starting to dance in your eyes- but a warm touch at your arm shakes your focus. Lorenz leans close to be heard over the rapidly growing crowd at the bakery's counter,

"Might I make a recommendation?" you nod, and he goes on, "I happen to have it on good authority that there's an item not included on this menu that you may like. It incorporates three different treatments of Brigid cocoa, if that is of any interest to you."

Your eyes light up and you can practically feel the rich sweetness across your tongue already.

"That sounds incredible," you reply, enraptured by the very thought. When you start to ask how he'd heard of such a thing, Lorenz has already turned to speak to the worker taking orders, and your words drown among the crowd of customers. The speed at which he acquires this mythical pastry only fills your mind with more questions. How did he manage to purchase an off-menu item so quickly? Wouldn't the cost of something requiring those many luxurious imported ingredients be astronomical?

But then, Lorenz returns to your side and guides you out of the crowded shop, and the sight of the delectable chocolatey treat in his hands dashes all other thoughts from your mind. He hands it to you wrapped in a handkerchief, and you can't help but immediately plunge in for a bite.

"Mmmm-!" you wear an expression of pure bliss as your mouth fills with sweet, savory chocolate, "Oh- Lorenz, it's so good!"

When you glance up at him, he's watching you with a strangely heavy expression. Once more, his fair complexion is painted a light red. You tilt your head curiously, and he seems to resurface from whatever thoughts had taken him for the moment.

"Here- you should try some," you break off a piece and hold it up to him.

"Are- are you certain? I had intended for you to enjoy it to your heart's content," he stammers out, evidently still a bit flushed.

"I want you to get to have some too. Please?" You hate to resort to puppy eyes with him, but it's hard to argue with the results. He leans forward and accepts the piece of pastry from your hand. You don't shy away from him in the slightest, and so a brief brush of his lower lip along the tip of your finger simply can't be avoided. Lorenz does his best to move past this without acknowledgement, and you two enjoy your treat together as you take in the bustle of the town around you.

The day continues in kind, with Lorenz apparently having painstakingly arranged every element of this date from start to finish. At a local seller of antiques and luxury goods, he secures permission to view and explore rare and dazzling paintings from around the world. Here, he's rather uncharacteristically reserved. Wandering the storage area like your own personal art museum, he watches you with evident warmth as you exclaim at the rich and varied pigments, the innovative expressions of human form, and so on.

After this, he brings you to a tavern at the far end of town, where he's reserved the second floor exclusively for you two to enjoy a quiet, intimate meal together. By this point, you've finally gotten around to considering just how much gold must have gone into this singular date.

"Lorenz," you say cautiously, "are you sure it's okay to go through all of this and spend so much just for-"

He raises a hand to cut you off, then replies,

"I assure you that it is," he takes your hand in his, holding it warmly from across your private table, "wealth has no value that we ourselves do not assign to it, and I have chosen to spend it on your pleasure. I can think of no greater use for a bit of coin."

The rest of the early evening is filled with pleasant chat and the occasional subtle sweet-talk. As you discuss everything you've seen and experienced that day, Lorenz engages you with surprisingly astute comments and observations. He's always at his best when he feels permitted to simply talk with you, as one person to another, free of the pressures and expectations of his birthright that he shoulders without a thought.

The sun is steadily lowering behind the hills and walls of the surrounding town by the time you make your way back together. As you walk hand in hand watching the Monastery gates rise ahead of you, Lorenz clears his throat abruptly and says,

"If I may steal you away for just a little while longer, there was... actually someone I thought you'd like to meet."

"Oh? What an honor," you say with a smile, "Do I get any hints?"

Lorenz gives a good-natured chuckle and says,

"Only that I think you'll get along splendidly."

And of all places throughout Garreg Mach's grounds, you begin to recognize that he is leading you towards the stables. You've met Lorenz's horse before- a lovely mare with a calm and agreeable temperment. If not her, then...

"Eloise?" Lorenz calls out in a gentle voice, "Eloise, come say hello- Ellie? Come now, don't tell me you've chosen tonight to become bashful..." at his call, a svelte black cat with delicate little white paws comes trotting out to meet you. Your heart positively aches and melts at the sight of her eagerly approaching Lorenz with clear comfort and familiarity.

"Lorenz, you... have a cat?" You say with obvious disbelief.

"She's one of the Monastery's strays, to be clear," he says, "She helps with the mice in the stables. Evidently, she had become quite fond of my preferred horse- and so eventually became fond of me as well."

Fond seems an understatement- she very clearly adores him. With a chorus of happy little mews, she circles his legs and rubs against him until he crouches down to offer her his hand. As he does, a shred of parchment flutters from his pocket onto the ground. Eloise targets it like a seasoned warrior and pounces at it with gusto. With a laugh, you kneel down to retrieve whatever this paper she's captured might be.

"Now Eloise, none of that- you must behave genteel-like with guests."

As he firmly lectures the cat, you glance at the paper in your hand. Nearly every inch of it is covered in an elegant, curling script that you imagine must belong to Lorenz. It looks like a... list of some kind. As your eyes scan down the page, you begin to recognize a pattern. Your favorite flowers, favorite desserts, favorite types of books and places around town- plus, to the side, the word "cats?" underlined several times. For a moment, you simply cover your mouth to hold in a snort of laughter. Then, you come to kneel beside Lorenz as he's failing to convince his feline friend to stop swatting at his hair.

"So- you've been taking very thorough notes lately." you say, nudging his arm playfully. He turns to face you with an immediate look of panic. Lavender eyes widen and glance down to the parchment in your hand, then back to you. He visibly deflates and says,

"Goddess- you must find me such a fool-"

You press your lips firmly to his before he can say another word. With a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your kiss. His lips are wonderfully soft, and the subtle scent of his cologne surrounds your senses as you tilt your head to seal your lips to his more firmly. You're not certain how long you remain like this, but only the dull ache of kneeling on the dirt and the incessant sound of Eloise bapping her paw against the paper in your hand bring you back to your surroundings. When you part from him, you brush aside the silky curtain of his hair to run your hand along his face, and say,

"I had a wonderful time today, Lorenz- and it means the world to me that you put so much thought into this. But next time, you don't have to study so hard, okay?"

For a moment, he seems speechless. Then, he gives a shy chuckle.

"You have bested me yet again, it would seem. How can I ever hope to become a man worthy of you when you are ever more lovely with each passing day?"

Eloise gives an insistent chirp and rubs once more against his leg, evidently tired of distractions from the attention she feels she's owed. Your smile widens, and you scratch her ear fondly.

"I think there's at least two of us who like you just as you are, Lorenz."

[proseinborderland]

✨ UPDATED! ✨

Part Two

Her agreement and the way she acquiesced to my touches filled me with a sensation of warmth and trust. The sentiment and insight of knowing that, not only did she accept me, but she also wanted to take part in my sensual and erotic invitation, swelled within my chest as I smiled down at her, our foreheads still touching. 

She was soft and pliable under my guidance as I nodded against her, then began motioning her further back onto the bed. The faint glow from a small bedside lamp combined with a view of the Tokyo Skyline created an elusive ambiance that bounced contours of light across the room, casting shadows upon the contours of our bodies. 

 Once we were properly laying side by side, I felt her move closer to me. Quickly sensing both her hesitation as well as her desire; I could feel her breath change, see the rise and fall apart in her chest as I glanced down at the beautiful curves of her cleavage. Our lips then found the others rapidly, as though we were being pulled together by some magnetic force. 

The desire I possessed for her was intense, intriguing, and it captivated me in the most intoxicating ways. My insatiable appetite, already attuned to her, painting erotic portraits of her in my mind, imagining her in all mediums of art, while my hands wanted to memorize every inch of her until I could sculpt her, if only as a form of subconscious remembrance. 

My arousal quickly made itself known as she bridged the gap between our hips, feeling the rush of blood flow changing, causing the nerves in my pelvis to tremble under the tight barrier of my jeans. I pulled her closer, noticing her arm slipping around my back, and then gently rolled my hips into hers. The act itself elicited similar, breathless moans from both of our mouths as the sensation and relief brought upon by that simple, minute amount of contact and pressure hummed throughout the both of us.

My eyes scanned her face, searching for the reaction I yearned for.  --The sweet blush that crept up in her cheeks and a smile that was only meant to look shy, as she felt my pulsing erection pressing gingerly up against her. I then deepened our kiss, feeling her tongue seek entrance, licking at my opened mouth, and nipping at my lower lips. I wanted to devour her the way that my passion was devouring me. The cinnamon sweetness of her mouth remained in sync with my own as our tongues sought out an intemperate dominance, only then to submit to the other’s kiss willingly, it was as if we were choreographing a sugary sweet dance with our lips.

“You’re intoxicating...” I professed, as I brought my lips to her ear, and then continued, “I know you can feel how hard I am for you.” My words were met with a genuine shyness, made apparent to me by the way she ceased her movements and hesitated to make eye contact once my gaze had returned to meet hers. 

“I could kiss you for an eternity....” She allowed herself to trail off, rather than concisely finish her sentence. Meanwhile, my hand had tangled itself in her hair and my kiss at the pulse point to the right of her neck, “It’s just … that you feel a lot bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with.”

A compliment that made my pride swell and my cock to throb - intoxicating; however, it was nothing I hadn’t heard before.

“We’re nowhere near that part right now, my love.” I responded, “I promised you pleasure tonight.”

I felt her nod against my head in response. 

I couldn't tell you how long we spent wrapped up in one another, sharing kisses, smiles, and occasional glances. Enjoying ourselves in the present moment and allowing ourselves to both feel alive as well as share the art and experience of simply feeling and feeling something together.

When I felt her nudge against my hips, using her body rather than her words to tell me what she longed for, I happily obliged in the same fashion, placing my hand on her hip to steady myself and control my movement as I rolled my hips into hers more forcefully than I had previously. I felt her breath hitch and her eyes met mine as she wrapped her leg around my waist in an attempt to pull me down and on top of her. Close couldn’t feel close enough in this state, if ever at all. 

TBC...

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

→ Link to my AO3

✨Huge thanks to my lovely mutuals! @chishiyashoodie @boohbear19 @sweetflanfiction @brdpch ✨

Musical Magnetism

Kyuma x OFC

Rating: Mature / NSFW / 18+

Description: Kyuma has a transcendent experience with a fan following a show. & Smut ensues.

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

Prologue

It was a show like any other, full of energy, cheering, singing, dancing, catharsis, freedom, expressionism, filled with that tangible feeling of transcendence permeated through the air and I indulged in that energy, basking in the praise from my fans. It was one of the only times where I truly felt alive. When I sang, my soul poured out from my mouth into sounds that pleased the ears of others. I loved how they always seemed to want more. 

I could feel her energy as she stood there, dancing in her spot to our music. Singing my own lyrics back to me in a way I'd never seen or felt. It 'felt' as though she understood every minute of emotion behind every song. I felt myself becoming increasingly intrigued by her and tried my best not to give myself away; however, I couldn't help making eye contact with her. Afterall, She was in the front row. 

Once our eyes met, we couldn't stop looking away, quickly looking back, smiling, and looking away again. Rinse and repeat. I was never one to indulge myself in the carnal comforts often offered by my fans and yet there this beautiful creature was, radiating something more than the rest, shining brightly amongst the sea of bodies in the crowd behind her.  

And now here she was in my hotel room.

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

Part One

“Is this something you do often?” she questioned, as we sat on my hotel bed. 

I shook my head without hesitation, “No, it is not. … although, I won’t lie to you, I am guilty of doing this twice before.”

Her body stilled and her skin flushed. The rise and fall of her chest changed slightly. She averted her eyes to the carpet. I could almost feel her become increasingly more timid as seconds passed and it was then that I knew my candor must have been too forthright for her liking.

I reached out, cradling her face in my hands, as I began to speak to her with slow sincerity. 

“No, no, my dear, please do not mistake me. I want us to enjoy this moment together tonight. I want us to share ourselves with one another and experience all of the pleasures that our bodies can compose. You and I have created a spark that has ignited something strong inside of me, it is full of passion, and that passion is you…” I trailed off and leaned forward, a kiss ghosting over her cheek. 

Though her head was still nestled between my hands, I felt her slowly ease back, just enough to see me, as her eyes re-emerged from the carpet to examine my expression, and then finally meeting my own, which were filled with openness and love.

“Remember when I said I wouldn’t lie? Please trust once more when I vow that I’ve never quite seen nor sensed anyone feel my music the way I witnessed it with you tonight …not even close.”

Involuntarily, her body replied with a sharp intake of air as she gasped and trembled under my touch, causing the blush in her cheeks to deepen. I slowly eased her closer to my face, sensing her yield to my touch, as I brought our lips together in a lingering closed mouth kiss.

“Is this still okay?” I asked

“Yes.” she swallowed, slowly and nodded her head against my own.

♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠ . ♦ . ♣ . ♥ . ♠

→ Link to my AO3

✨Huge thanks to my lovely mutuals! @chishiyashoodie @boohbear19 @sweetflanfiction @brdpch ✨

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

Comte’s One More Wedding Event (full release)that should have just came out in Japanese Version. Could you translate it or summarize it, please? Thank you for your time.

I can't believe you want to give me this kind of power, but if you insist 😂💛

That being said, because my translation skills are rough at best, I'll be summarizing and selecting specific parts to discuss if I feel a need to quote directly.

If you don't want spoilers for Comte ES, run!

Y'all. Y'ALL. REEEEEEEEE I LOVE HIM. NOBODY LOOK AT ME I'VE BEEN CRYING ON AND OFF FOR DAYS

ANYWAY

So this particular event begins with MC bringing Comte a letter as he thanks her. One glance at the return address tells him that it's a pureblood gathering invitation, and upon opening it he's right. He shrugs it off and says he'll reply to it later, setting it aside.

MC, perceptive as ever, asks if he's declining the invitation. Comte explains the nature of the party and how only purebloods are allowed to end. Furthermore, the gathering takes place on their first wedding anniversary--and he would much prefer to spend the day with her.

Comte: “MC, any gorgeous evening party–no matter how beautiful–means nothing to me without my wife at my side. The place I belong is with you.”

MC: “Er…”

His gold eyes are steady and unwavering as he looks at me, and my heart skips a beat.

Comte: “Anywho I have no intention of attending this party, as it also overlaps with the date of our anniversary. Our first wedding anniversary is an important day, and I want to spend it with my beloved wife.”

Comte smiles winningly, all while staring straight at me.

MC, however, finds herself conflicted. Given how little she knows about purebloods, she wishes she could attend the party to better understand him and the community he's a part of. She admits this, to Comte's great surprise, but feels bad about it because she doesn't mean to ask something impossible of him. (One of the requirements of the party is that you have to be a pureblood vampire to be invited. ON WEDNESDAYS WE WEAR PINK) Comte clarifies that--because she's his wife--she's welcome to attend alongside him. He offers to take her with him if that's what she wants.

MC: “Are you really sure it’s okay for me to go, though?”

Comte: “Certainly. But I would never force you if you were uncomfortable, of course.”

MC: “No, I don’t hate the idea!”

Comte: “But I’d understand if being surrounded by purebloods would be rather nerve-wracking for you…And so many of them have a superiority complex a mile wide; they’re a prideful bunch. While it may not be all of us, there are enough that it might be stifling for you to be around them.”

Comte: “In light of all that, are you certain you still wish to go?”

[I know he’s just doing his best to prepare me for what I might face at a party like this--he doesn’t want me going in with the wrong idea. It’s very likely he had intended to decline the invitation to spare me the discomfort, and the burden of making a choice that would affect/limit him too. The concern in his features makes me melt.]

The part I love most about this scene is that this is just the beginning of so many attempts on his part to prepare her realistically, but also support her decision. As much as he wants to go with her he's never going to put her in the position of deciding for the both of them. He knows there's a great deal of pressure to face among such a forbidding/traditional society, and if she needs more time to prepare for that--he wants to give her the space to get used to something so unfamiliar. In truth, I don't see him ever asking her to go if she didn't want to--even if it stung to have that part of him rejected...

MC considers for a moment, but she's resolved to understand him and his people better. She explains as much, and Comte brightens at the confession.

MC: “I’m sorry if it’s a bit much to ask of you, but thank you…!”

Comte: “I should be the one thanking you, now I look forward to the gathering.”

MC: “You’re…looking forward to it?”

When I tilt my head quizzically, le Comte draws me close with a faint smile on his lips.

Comte: “I’m excited to introduce you as my wife.” (SCREAMS AND CRIES)

This gets INSANELY cute because he gathers her close to him and she just gets very bashful about it. She apologizes--saying she knows she should be more used to it given they've already been married a year now, but his response is so sweet: “Why apologize? I’ve always thought my wife is the cutest.”

They both think back to their wedding ceremony at the mention of how long they've been together, and MC's eyes find the flower pins she gifted him on top of his hourglass (which fking one he has like 300).

Some background for anyone unaware: when Comte and MC got married, MC gifted him these flower pins--they were flowers that were preserved (in metal I think? idk exactly how it works they just look metallic in his outfit art). She explains that they're an attempt to symbolize her love for him, in that she intends to remain unchanging in her feelings forever. I find it's also an apt metaphor for MC herself; it's not unlike her agreement to become a vampire to stay with him.

MC: “You’ve been taking good care of the flowers I gave you.”

Right next to the hourglass lie the preserved flowers I gave him. They gleam in the light with ease, clearly polished and looked after–not a speck of dust on them.

Comte: “With those you swore your love to me. Isn’t it only natural that I’d take good care of them?” (LISTEN COMTE YOU AND I BOTH KNOW THE REALITY OF THE MALE SPECIES QUIT PLAYIN)

After that scene there's a timeskip to the night of the party--and after everyone celebrates their anniversary in the mansion all day--they hop in a carriage. MC is a little lost in thought, preparing herself for what's to come. When he asks if she's nervous she fully admits to it, but with a caveat. She's nervous because she doesn't know what to expect and she's concerned about committing a social faux pas, but she's not afraid or anxious.

Before I came to this time I had absolutely no concept of what an elaborate dinner party looked like–and besides which, this time it’s going to be a room full of purebloods. I’m nervous, sure, because I’ve never done this before--but it’s not quite anxiety or fear.

MC: “As long as you’re beside me, I’m invincible–anytime, anywhere.”

I can navigate anything: unfamiliar social circles, even an entirely new era of time. Because Comte is always so steady and reliable, always there for me, my anxiety ebbs and I can shine–be the very best I can be.

Comte: “MC…”

Comte looks absolutely moved by what I have to say, directing a gentle, tender look at me.

Comte reiterates his previous warning, that they might be weirdos and/or rude because they're stuck in their ways. He knows their discriminatory nature is wrong, but he believes in her ability to overcome those things--and fully intends to support her. He also lets her know what to expect in terms of the schedule: mostly mingling, and dancing is reserved for the very end of the party only.

Gatsby hour begins and MC marvels at the enormous venue sparsely populated by people dressed to the nines (I can only imagine how Comte dressed her up for this event in light of that LMFAO). Comte tells her he's going to get some drinks, and MC agrees to wait for him. In a classic lowkey queen move, she retreats against a nearby wall to take in her surroundings. She feels a certain intensity to be surrounded by people who look so young and beautiful, and yet carry the experience of lifetimes within them. She also notes the slightest permeating scent of blood in the air, assuming most of the people in attendance are drinking Rouge in their wine glasses.

When Comte returns to her, he offers her a glass of red wine, and she takes it with a smile.

MEAN GIRLS TIME!!!!!

So these two ladies approach le Comte yelling about how long it's been since they've seen him, and about the rumors that he got married. Without missing a beat he confirms it's true, and introduces MC to them as his wife. MC offers a greeting and a curtsy, but the women openly spurn her because she's not a vampire lmao. ("Who put you on the planet" energy, essentially). I still can't tell if they were acting like insane mother-in-laws on Comte's behalf, or out of jealousy--or weirdly both.

All casual dismissal, the women sashay away from us, dresses swishing.

[It seems like I really won’t be accepted as Comte’s life partner so long as I remain human…]

Comte: “…I’m sorry. I’m afraid that is the usual attitude of pureblood vampires. Not all of us are like that, but they still made you feel uncomfortable ;;;;”

MC: “That’s not something to apologize for. I’m happy to attend such a lovely party as your wife.”

I don’t want to ruin the occasion for him, so I beam at him.

Comte: “MC…” His lips descend close to my ear, pressing the lightest kiss against it.

Comte: “Thank you, MC…I’m happy, too.”

While Comte is full of uwus and love for his wife, she notes he stops there--likely because it's a public venue. (And I'd wager respectability politics, given a lot of old school people tend to say horrible things at the slightest sign of PDA lol. It would give them all the more reason to be nasty to MC.) MC notes that no matter how small the gesture or how often he extends his affection, it always sets her heart racing (what a damn mood) and they both gear up to greet everyone else. They're both like ganbatte!!! at each other and it's really cute, haha.

[No matter how many times he does things like this, I’m always caught off guard. I imagine we’ll be this way forever…]

Comte: “Here we go, the party’s only just begun. Let’s get to it and enjoy ourselves. No need to hesitate, it’s our wedding anniversary after all–this is a time for you to smile.”

MC: “Haha, thank you very much! Then I’ll definitely enjoy it to the fullest!”

We continue to greet and chat with other purebloods, the night goes on while I sample some of their food–

At some point MC separates from Comte to use the restroom. When she exits to rejoin the crowd, she hears the voices of those two women that openly rejected her earlier. They basically talk about how Comte and MC will never last or have a meaningful relationship, and that Comte is wasting his time not breeding more master race pureblood babies for the community's future. (Not remotely surprised Leonardo does not like them at this juncture lmao)

While MC was well aware she'd face some level of disdain, she admits that it still hurts to hear--and doesn't want Comte to see her upset. So she walks out to a nearby balcony to look at the stars and cool off before returning to his side.

Comte: “MC.”

MC: “Eh…? Comte, when did you get here?”

Comte: “You hadn’t returned for a while, so I went looking for you.”

MC: “Ah, I’m sorry to worry you. The stars were so lovely I couldn’t help but linger a bit to enjoy the sight of them.”

When I try to hide my gloomy feelings, he stares at me.

Comte: “You seem upset all of a sudden. Did something happen? Did someone…say something to you, by any chance?”

MC: “Ah, I can’t hide from you it seems. I guess I am a little upset.”

Comte: “…”

Comte: “MC, do you regret marrying me?”

MC: “!”

MC: “That’s not the case at all. No matter what finds us in the future, I’ll never regret having married you. I’m glad I met you, Abel–that will never change…”

When I tell him my heartfelt feelings, he gently wraps his arms around me.

Comte: “…Me too, MC.” The voice that murmurs at my ear is filled with such ardor that my heart melts.

Comte: “It might have been too much to ask of you to come here. But no matter how difficult the truth may be, it’s an undeniable fact that I’m a pureblood.”

Comte: “I was so happy that you wanted to know more about me–to know me better–that I was spoiled by your words. And yet, as a result of that indulgence, I hurt you…”

MC: “…No. That’s not it. Abel, I’m not familiar with vampires. But this last year, I was with a pureblood who’s kinder than anyone else I know.”

I have no innate fear or dislike of purebloods–because the person I love more than anyone else in the world is a pureblood vampire.

MC: “That’s why I’m not afraid, or dreading any of this.” It might seem outlandish, but his presence was like magic; it was enough to give me the strength to have courage and find kindness for the people around me.

MC: “No matter who stands in my way in the future, I will do my best to be recognized as your partner someday. Didn't I tell you before? I'm invincible anytime, anywhere, as long as you're there with me!”

Upon hearing her resolve to stay with him, he feels the need to renew his vow to her too--telling her that he'll always love her as well, and that his feelings have only grown since then. One important bit to note in his confession is that he fully admits he had a hard time coming to term with what he was, he's only a little more accepting of being a pureblood because her existence redefines what an eternity means to him. He explains that, while no end of time used to be an upsetting and hollow concept to him, the fact that his long life will be spent cultivating his love for her gives him the strength to face his reality.

They kiss and MC acknowledges that life--no matter how long--always has its ups and downs. Sometimes there will be rough times, like when those Mean Girls women were actively nasty and unfair to her. And sometimes there will be joyous times, like how Comte just repeated his vow to her so sweetly. But more than anything, it's important to live in the present moment as fully as possible, and she deepens her kiss with Comte accordingly.

After what I assume to be an excellent make out, they return to the venue and rejoin the group of vampires. Now then, because it's Comte and Comte refuses to take any shit he reveals his ace in the hand. Premeditated and all cunning expectation, the show begins:

After reaffirming our feelings for the other, we return to the hall. When we wandered around to greet people today, there were also vampires who were kind to me. For those that remain perturbed by my presence, they continue to sneer at me as though I were an eyesore.

[I don’t care. Comte’s by my side…]

Comte: “…That’s right, MC. There was one thing I forgot to mention.”

MC: “Huh?”

Comte: “A short while ago, you said something about doing your best to earn their approval. I wouldn’t even worry about it, you’re perfect just as you are. Everyone here just doesn’t have the slightest inkling as to your charms yet. For those with the ability to see, feel free to show them as many times as you like.”

MC: “Comte…”

At that very moment, a waltz begins to flow into the hall.

Comte: “Oh, is it time to dance already? MC, shall we?” (Oh Is It TiMe To DaNcE aLrEaDy, damn clown)

MC: “Yes.”

In time with the melody, we begin to waltz together. When I'd first arrived to this era, the steps and the dance itself were unfamiliar to me. Now when I dance with Comte it’s nearly effortless–natural as breathing.

[Comte has taken me to so many evening parties at this point. Thanks to his impeccable leading any uncertainty in my step is elegantly disguised.]

Comte: “MC.”

As we danced, he called my name--crooned it softly.

Comte: “…Have you noticed? Everyone is watching us.”

At the sound of this new information, I look around.

[Oh, it’s true–everyone really is looking at us…]

And it’s not like before, tinged with displeasure and contempt. It’s like they can’t look away from us now, dazzled and intrigued.

MC: “Makes sense–you’ve always been a very graceful dancer, Comte, it’s impossible not to find it captivating.”

Comte: “No. Without you as my partner, I can’t enjoy it nearly as much as I do now.”

He grins as he says so, the sentiment reflected in his buoyant step. Beautiful, noble…and above all, lively. Even though I’m always by his side, I remain endlessly captivated by that smile and movement.

Comte: “We are more in tune with each other than every other pair here, don’t you think?”

MC: “Haha, that’s right!”

I think le Comte is lovely no matter who he’s dancing with, but I’m sure I’m the one who gets along with him best–I think so, because his golden eyes reflect no one else but me.

[No matter what anyone says…I won’t give up this position to anyone else.]

When the song is over, and the dance is finished, the hall is filled with the raucous sound of applause and cheering. All these people are looking at us and their eyes are shining.

[I wonder…if maybe our feelings for each other were transmitted more clearly after that dance? The mere thought of it makes me feel ticklish and delighted.]

After their lovely display, the Mean Girls ladies approach MC to apologize as everybody is leaving for the night. MC accepts their apologies and says she wants to find a way to get along with them moving forward, though they're still pretty reluctant (probably only apologized to save face).

Differences in lifestyle and family tradition...I think there are many reasons why they can’t accept me. I don’t think it’s easy to understand the breadth of the gap between us; I’m sure I’ll need more time to be able to bridge those differences.

[I don’t know the way of life or struggle of the pureblood people yet. But…I want to understand.]

Even if we are endlessly different, I don’t want to give up on finding some sort of compromise. Next to me, le Comte smiles silently. For the foreseeable future--as long as it may take--I want to prove that I can make this person happy.

I deadass can't stop laughing at the fact of Comte standing next to MC all :)))))) (y'all he is emitting BOSS M U S I C)

After that, Comte and MC also head into their carriage and head home:

Comte: “MC, thank you.”

Le Comte remarks on the way home in the carriage.

MC: “…? I haven’t done anything worth thanks.”

Comte: “For today, for coming with me. And--up until now and from now on--for being by my side. I wanted to thank you again.”

He leans over from where he sits next to me and entwines our fingers together.

MC: “…Abel?”

Comte: “…Today is not just the day of the party, but our wedding anniversary too, right? From here on out, it’s time for only us two to be together.”

This is essentially where the premium story ends, and then it moves into the epilogue. I'll give some tidbits from the epilogue, just because it was so endlessly gratifying. Other than them having the smash of the century, it's mostly Comte going overstimulation feral service top. But there are so many really romantic moments during the shameless fking ;-;

The more he kisses me, the more my need for him spirals out of control. As if to entice him I twist my tongue with his deeper and deeper.

Comte: “MC…”

He exhales my name on a single heated syllable, and I can tell by the way he’s looking at me precisely what it is he wants.

Comte: “MC, what do you want to do…? I want to make you happy tonight. Do you want me to be kind? Or take you with reckless abandon?”

MC: “Abel…please do as you like. That’s what would make me happiest. :>”

Comte: “…I see. So you want to be made a mess of, is what you mean.”

MC: “Mn, aah–”

When his hands trace my sides seductively, my sensitive body reacts on it’s own.

Comte: “…You’re really cute, MC. Tonight, I’ll remind you the joy of being mine again.”

---

Comte: “Always so sensitive. Just the slightest touch, and you cry out with such a sweet voice…”

MC: “Well, it is your fault…”

[Because if Abel touches me like that…He spoils me and leaves me in an endless sea of pleasure, building up to that crest–fading–and building up again…because he loves me so dearly.]

Comte: “My fault, is it?…I like the sound of that.”

With a bewitching smile, he makes short work of his tie and button down. Even the most casual gestures like this are done with such grace that it becomes sensual. I’m drawn to the sight of him revealing more and more of his skin, thinking he’s far too much of a tease.

Comte: “…If you look at me with such desirous, greedy eyes, I’m going to lose control myself, MC.”

----

MC: “I…all I do is take from you…” I’m embarrassed because I’m so inexperienced that all I do is drown in the pleasure he gives me.

Comte: “…If you really think so, then you’re too unaware.”

MC: “Mn–ah, hah…”

Comte: “I’m the one who can’t stop wanting you…MC.”

When he leans over to murmur in my ear, his voice is suffused with desire–breathing shallow. From the gap between his lips, I can see the fangs which have never broken my skin…

MC: “Abel…do you want to bite me?”

If the answer is yes, then I’d be delighted. A vampire’s hunger for blood is often tied to romantic feeling. If he wants to suck my blood, then that’s all the more evidence that he loves me.

Comte: “That’s right. I want to sink my fangs into your soft skin…To taste your blood, to know your body and soul--I want to make every part of you mine.”

MC: “Mn…”

He drops a kiss to my throat, tickled by his tongue as he licks there–as if to taste me.

Comte: “But…”

Only I am reflected in his eyes.

Comte: “The only thing I want more than biting you is to take good care of you. I don’t want to impulsively take anything from you.”

MC: “Abel…”

....

Comte: “Someday…I will make you into a vampire. But, right now, I want you to stay exactly as you are.”

The heat of him coupled by that serious look...my heart is swept away.

Comte: “So…can you bear with my hesitation for just a little while longer?”

MC: “Yes…forever. I’ll always be yours.” I replied, wrapping my arms around his back. He squinted, as if he were staring at something dazzling.

Comte: “I’m always hesitating, but…MC. I will absolutely never let you go. I swear my love to you forever, my dear wife.”

----

The last part of the epilogue is confusing because I'm not sure if it's intended to be an actual dream or Comte just messing with her, but here goes:

[Morning already…?]

At the sensation of sunlight, I open my eyes.

MC: “Eh!?”

Comte: “Are you up, MC? The defenseless face you make when you’re asleep is adorable, but when you open your eyes and look at me that’s also lovely.”

He was lying in bed, unlike last night, wearing the same outfit he had on for our wedding.

[Ah, I’m most likely dreaming.] When I realize it, I get a ticklish feeling in my chest and can’t help the smile that finds my face.

MC: “Haha…”

Comte: “MC? What’s wrong?”

MC: “No, I was just thinking you really will always be by my side. I’m glad to see you in my dreams like this…I’m happy.”

Comte: “…Haha, that’s right. I’m happy too. But…it’s not always a dream right?”

MC: “Er…”

His voice easily makes my heart flutter, like sweet sake.

Comte: “Would you like to see if it’s a dream? …Once again, with your body.”

My heart thunders under his sultry gaze, covetous gold eyes beckoning me closer. (COME HITHER FUCK)

MC: “Yes, Abel. As many times as you like…take me.”

I know dream-like, impossibly happy days will continue as long as I stay by his side–

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

There is so much going on here that I don't even know how to encompass all my feelings other than to say MARRIED COUPLE G O A L S. AAAAAAAAA I LOVE HIM SO MUCH HE'S SUCH A DOTING HUSBAND!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PUT A RING ON ME S I R

I really love the endless reciprocity coming from MC, lmao. She very openly wants to respond to his efforts, wants to make him happy too, is just as desirous in their coupling. I also love how much personality and spunk she has??? I was fucking d y i n g when she was like:

MC: "Aren't the stars so nice." Comte: "Adorable that you'd try to out-fake the king faker. What really happened." MC: "Damn it."

It's been a long time since I've gotten this much serotonin from a story m a nnnnnn

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 6/?

Word Count: 2.6-2.7k idk exact

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name, A/N - Any name (your best friend’s name)

MUSIC IS INCLUDED THIS TIME! Please enjoy my personal music playlist, or at least a snippet of it.

TO THE PERSON WHO REBLOGGED AND SAID THIS WAS CUTE (at least the first part) you straight up made me cry omfg

Warnings: Swearing, gets really fucking heated at the end (no sex, yet), no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Outfit Context:

Y/N:

Jason:

(Cause I finally found an outfit I liked on the boy, men’s fashion isn’t my strong suit,,, heh :) )

“Sorry, is my mouth hung open?” he asked.

“Yes, sir. Very much so,” she mocked.

Jason closed his mouth and outstretched his hand for Y/N’s, cupping it with both hands and kissing the top of it.

“You just look so lovely, Y/N.”

“And you’re chivalrous, Jay. Now, should we get going?” she asked, putting her free hand on top of his two.

“Yes, let’s go,” he let one of his hands go of hers and lead her to the Porsche he brought with him, not intertwining his fingers with hers.

He opened the passenger’s side door and let Y/N get in, not letting go of her hand til the last moment he could hold it. He got in an turned on the radio,

It felt like a good night, for dancing in the moonlight,

In empty streets, well, everybody's got a reason why,

If we could only just get it right,

Maybe it will all work out like in the movies,

But I know Romeo must die before the ending,

With a final poison kiss delivered gently,

Because you don't get lucky twice, and that's the truth,

“Sing to me sweet just like my memory, 

If New York City Still moves me then I’ve found something real,

I’ll be okay, I could go on for days,

But I just don’t have the courage that it takes to be real,

And even if it’s dark at least we’ll be together,

Slowly sinking in the Earth to lay forever,

You better grab a hold and hold on for your life,

Because you don’t get lucky twice,

No, you don’t get lucky twice,” She sung with the tune.

Without the Bitter the Sweet Isn’t as Sweet - Mayday Parade

“You, you have the voice of an angel,” he said.

“It’s not that hard to mimic works of art with my voice.”

“Did you ever take singing lessons?”

“I did when I was younger, so I could sing French lullabies to my cousins.”

He placed a hand on her thigh as he drove them through the countryside of Gotham to Metropolis, taking the long way on what seemed like purpose. So he could encapsulate the moment in his memory for as long as he knew her and what she was to him. She was an adventure waiting to happen, a love story not yet written to tell for ages, a rock ‘n’ roll song written to please the masses in hidden corners of the world.

And to her, he was a masterwork of intertwining memories of pain, sadness, luck and beauty. A mind of complexity she was just waiting to dive into and see how it functioned. A story behind the white tuff of hair he had, why he was jacked to the masses if he was a book nerd. A story of his favourite book and his favourite sibling, his favourite trope, his love, his pain, him.

The moments where she stuck her hand out the window and traced symbols into the Autumn air swirling past the two as they cruised down the empty back roads. When he laughed as she sang Reste by GIMS and Sting. He didn’t understand the lyrics, but she did, and she called it a love song. Well, he got the parts Sting sung, but French wasn’t a language he knew like she did.

��I guess being Bilingual helped you out massively with that one, huh?”

“It’s a talent I never knew I needed, apparently.”

“Well, you did know you needed.”

“That’s fair,” she laughed, “ I guess I did always need it as a skill.”

“Do your cousins speak English too?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit? It’s better English than my father.”

“Can he not speak English?”

“Well, he can, just not well. But my mother is also Bilingual in English and French so they never had to worry about my father being bad at English. My twin sister and I grew up knowing both languages,” she rambled, still playing with the wind, “I guess it’s a one-up I have on a lot of people, being able to just talk and talk in another language, travelling advantage,” she kept going, Jason intently listening to her as she went on and on, he liked the silence being filled by her voice, “You know? You might know, I don’t know how you were raised to a T,” she finished.

“Well, I can assure you I only know English so you have that theoretical one-up on me, too. But I choose to see that one-up as something you can teach me as time goes on and we progress,” he paused, “If you’re down to get serious eventually, that is,” he panicked.

“Well, maybe we’re at that point where we can say we’re casually seeing each other and exclusive, but not serious. Hopeful, but not pressuring ourselves into something that’s going to be put under a lot of pressure as we go on,” she said, still playing with the wind.

“We’ll see about that after dinner.”

“Where are we even going?”

“Fancy little restaurant with a balcony facing over the city,” he assured.

“Really out here living for the moments?”

“Well, most girls crack under the pressure of the paparazzi, you, however, flipped them off, and that’s being rewarded for showing that you can’t give a fuck about those dingy ass tabloids and how they treat you, by taking you out to nice places,” he said.

She laughed, “I’m glad I’m never going to live that one down, it was really fun to do.”

“I hope it continues as we go along, I would hate to see that behavior change when it brings a smile to everyone who’s ever been harassed by paparazzi” when they pulled over for a second, Jason quickly loosened his tie a tad, “Honestly, I want to ditch this fucking tie,”

“It’s not you,” she said, “It’s just not.”

“And you know me that well to take that guess?”

“I could see you struggling with it from a mile away, Jason. Maybe the fancy restaurant isn’t us,” she laughs, “But we aren’t going to not take that dinner date.”

“Oh we’re so going to take that date, but I’m thinking from here on out we do whatever the fuck we want, no fancy dates. Thoughts?” he asked.

“Done deal,” she said.

----------------------------

In the restaurant, the two of them were basically the worst people to be there, it was levels of fancy that neither of them actually wanted, they both wanted simplicity, but they both thought the presence of the other person was enough of a takeaway from the completely wrong choice of restaurant. They had Dick to blame for this one, and Jason made that clear to Dick in a joking text while Y/N snuck off to the bathroom to ‘fix her hair, she was actually checking her breath.

Dick, this fucking restaurant is a god damn bust, man. We aren’t you and Barbara, that’s what we’ve discovered today. lol.

Bummer! We really like that place.

I can see why it screams Dick and Barbs.

You kissed her yet though?

No.

Wuss! Cat got your tongue? Just do it, man.

And at the same time, Y/N was texting A/N about Jason and what to do,

Girl! Thank you so much for reminding me to bring mints, my god, food ruins your breath so much.

You really want the pretty boy kiss huh?

No, I’m eating the mints to not kiss him, YES I WANT THE KISS.

Ha! Honesty is key, just go for it.

She laughed as she packed her phone into her dress pockets (Yeah there’s fucking pockets :) ) and went to leave the restroom to meet up with Jason again. To which, Jason had already paid and tipped the waiter.

“I could have at least helped on the tip, Jay.”

“I tipped him 200%, but if you want to drop more cash, go for it.”

“You tipped that much?” she asked while slipping in a 50$ she had on her.

“Of course, food service workers deserve a lot more than what they get, especially when they have to deal with terrible customers,” he said as he went and grabbed her hand again, not intertwining fingers again, “And my best friend, Will, he complains about people who don’t tip and praises people who quote ‘over tip’ but I think that he deserves 200% each bill for the shit he puts up with.”

“Did you tip him when we went there?”

“No, I called in a ‘No questions asked’ favour. And before you say anything, he did the same to make me babysit his daughter-”

“Your best friend has a daughter?”

“Well, he’s older than me, but yeah, he’s a single dad because her mum kind of sucks, lovely little girl, I’m her godfather.”

“Does she call you Uncle Jason?”

“Well, Uncle Jay, it’s like one of the only works she knows how to say properly, and Dada,” he laughed, “Great little girl,” he said, nervously, “This doesn’t change anything, does it? ‘Cause if he, knock on fucking wood, lord forbids, dies that will be my daughter.”

“Well, he’s not dead and you’re not worrying that he’s going to die, so nothing has to change. God kids are god kids, noble that you took on your best friend’s kid if, lord forbid, anything happens to the man, really,” she assured.

He sighed and kissed the back of her hand, “Then that is just a gift on top of what I did,” he smiled and lead her back to the Porsche once again, opening the car door for her and she slightly turned on the radio, he let out a small laugh to himself, he got the pretty girl. He got into the Porsche again and began backing out.

“There’s something about ditching a really expensive dinner date that leaves you wanting more,” she said, absent-mindedly.

“What kind of more?” he asked.

“The kind you see in the movies, fully exposed and adventurous, you know?”

“Well, we could always sneak into the Wayne Manor Gardens and dance the night away under the stars like lovers do,” he half-joked, placing a hand on her thigh again and pretending like he did it subconsciously, but he was hyper-aware, especially when he caught her smile as she laughed.

“Wayne Manor? With your brothers, sisters, dad, and grandfather?” she paused, “If you’re serious, then no, not tonight. If you’re pulling my leg then, hell fucking no,” she joked.

“Maybe one day, then, huh?”

“One day, for sure. When it isn’t scary to accidentally run into your family on their property running around with you,” she said.

“Well, we can always go into the Wayne Enterprises Ballroom and dance the night away, no one should be in the office for a while and even then since there are no classes in the entire school tomorrow you can just hide out in my office if we stay too long,” he paused to make sure she was still listening, “Security can’t question me because I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, and security is tight as fuck so paparazzi can’t get to us,” he paused to put a little bit of pressure on her thigh, “What do you say? Can I have this dance, Milady?” he half-joked.

“You want to know something Jason?

“Always, Y/N.”

“I took dance lessons when I was younger, can you Waltz?” she asked.

“Yes ma’am, I can.”

“Then I’m in, let’s go.”

-------------------------------------

She loved the feeling of being back in her new hometown, Gotham. So when they pulled into the massive black building, she felt even more welcomed, security at the gates did ask ‘Who’s the girl?’ but Jason just explained it very easily,

“You know that date of mine that flipped off the press and you lot loved it?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” the man responded.

“You can call me Jason, you know that. But this is that girl.”

And they were let through the parking gates and into the underground parking system, they had to travel surprisingly far to Jason’s reserved spot in the lot, but the did get there before it hit AM. Once out of the car, Jason grabbed her hand and they ran into the building’s employees doors. It was a tight squeeze, but the feeling of Jason pressed so close to her sent chills down her spine. They went through many halls and reached the Ballroom, and entering it was like a dream for her.

Walls lined with intricate shapes and colours, but the colours never brought away from the stage at the far end from the door, the curtains seemed to redden with each step towards them, the 3, maybe 4 chandeliers hung above her like crystals in the ocean, it was amazing and beautiful. Checkered floorboards to give it a little bit of dimension, but it was the same colour as the main wall so your brain and eyes wouldn’t hurt after looking at it. It was stunningly beautiful and that’s what drew her in.

When he grabbed her hand and put on Never Let Me Go by Florence + The Machine, pulling her close to his chest and slowly Waltzing her around the room, spinning her when it felt right for him to do. Neither of them worried about the sloppiness or how it looked to the naked eye because it was for them. no one got satisfaction like they did at that moment. And grabbing her for one last dip was Jason’s goal when the ending of the song hit, although out of breath and his face stuffed in her chest as they both panted, he did pull her up so they were face-to-face on the dancefloor that they wiped clean.

“Did I tell you that you look stunning, Y/N?”

“I think you mentioned it a few times, Jay,” she said, staring directly into his eyes.

“Well, I mean it.”

“And I’m going to mean this,” she paused, taking her hand and placing it on his cheek, “ The way your eyes are a green-blue tint makes me lost in them, they’re like a sea of this mind I find myself liking more and more every day,” she paused to put her other hand on his other cheek, “And the way your nose and cheek freckles frame them is amazing.”

And he went for it. Somehow when he pressed his lips into hers, it felt like they were meant to match, and they both opened their mouths to play the coveted game of tongue-war, but they didn’t play by the rules, it was soft and sweet but full of passion and love, not lust. His hands would travel to her waist and lightly grip her, while her hands would travel to his neck and drape around the back of it.

They pulled away at the same moment to take in air, something they had clearly been missing as they were connected, they both let out a small chuckle before she put her hands in his hair and went in for round 2.

This time it was hungrier, and they both played with the shapes of the other so much more as time went on, he would grab her ass and she would pull on his hair slightly before he picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and moved one of her hands to the nape of his neck, this time, they would break for seconds only to start moving towards his office, which, conveniently, had a couch.

To say he threw her on that couch would be an understatement, he fucking thrust her on that couch and climbed on top of her, it was like 3 days of passion and lust combined themselves in a matter of minutes from their first kiss to them meeting on the couch. They both knew deep down that it couldn’t escalate further than this, especially at 1 in the morning, but time moves fast when you’re connecting in this way.

They finally broke after their passionate exchange and he fell to her side and began to spoon her, “Worth it,” he whispered.

“Worth what?” she asked.

“It was worth it to take a chance and defy my anxieties to ask you on that first date.”

“I don’t like a reality where you didn’t ask me on that date.”

“Neither do I, and I’m positive of that.”