#School for Poetic Computation

[honeybeefae]

Behind the Screen (Professor Gale x Female OC)

Summary / College was expensive, living was expensive, and Tessa’s parents had left her ill-prepared for the reality. Part-time jobs were difficult for her to keep with her school schedule, her major was crushing her mentally and spiritually, and with no other place to turn, she found herself profiting from less-than-professional means. However, it paid the bills and she never showed her face so it was foolproof. Never had she encountered anyone who knew what she did after dark…until she met the new Evocation professor. 

This idea floated into my head and will not come out. I would love to turn it into a multi-part series if anyone is interested! I know it isn't my usual ACOTAR work but I wanted to explore this new obsession! This is a kind of “modern” BG3 universe where magic, the absolute almost takeover, etc., are still the same but in a more modern setting! Obviously this will have smut so you have been warned but I will include content warnings at the beginning just in case! I hope you all enjoy! This chapter is a little short but I wanted it to be sort of an introduction to the story! <3

WARNINGS: 18 +, Cam Girl Activities, Paying to watch, Mutual Masturbation

AO3 Link

Chapter One: Lights, Camera, Action!

The music is slow and low in Tessa’s room, the bass thrumming throughout her body as she slowly sways to it. She smirks tauntingly as her fingers dance over the most sensitive parts of her body, covered by flimsy lace that one of her loyal viewers had sent her a week ago. It was a rich purple, matching the intricate masquerade mask that adorned her face and kept her most tempting feature unattainable. 

“Gods,” She moans huskily, sitting in her leather office chair to face the camera before slowly spreading her legs. “This feels so heavenly against my skin, Gale. You positively spoil me….”

Her computer is the only harsh light in her room as the rest of it is filled with soft fairy lights. She watches the screen as he types, knowing it would be a long lengthy response. He had been one of her first customers during the whole endeavor and after a few months, Tessa knew all of his quirks. Well, at least the sexual ones. 

Tonight is another private showing for him. It was like clockwork, Sundays at 8 PM and Fridays at 10 PM. They would last at least an hour, sometimes an hour and a half, and would consist of her teasing him until she turned her taunts to her body. He had sent her so many pieces of lingerie and toys in the few months she had started that it was a little startling. Sometimes he wanted her to take the lead, doing what she liked, while other times it was a specific script for her to follow. 

Either way, she knew he would pay a generous amount of money for these private shows and even more on tips if she did a free live show. A small part of her always wondered what he was like, what he looked like, but she knew entertaining that would only lead to pain. He could be married and hiding this obsession or single and desperate. None were good options for her. 

But she was more than happy to entertain his fantasies for however long he would pay her. 

“You know I am to please, my darling. I knew the purple would look absolutely radiant with your skin. It is all I can do now not to finish too quickly for you, the vision you are. Perhaps we should move on to the main event, yes? I am painfully aching to see all of you again.”

A blush comes over her cheeks at his words, both poetic and yet so vulgar. From the way he typed, she figured he had to have some kind of proper background and be older. No man she had ever met that was her age talked like him. 

“Of course, my love.” She purrs, reaching over to her drawer to fish out a toy. Before the stream, she had debated which one to use as his taste seemed to change with the wind. However, there was one she could always trust would please him. 

It’s a rabbit toy, sleek black with a long and thick vibrator and an additional clit stimulator that sucks and pulses in time with the rest of it. She always has the best orgasms with it and had actually been using it when Gale first found her stream. Ever since it was one of his favorites. 

“A classic, dear. Show me how your pretty cunt can drench it…and keep the lingerie on.”

“Yes, sir…” She almost whimpers as she pushes aside the already soaked material of her panties, biting down on her bottom lip as the toy comes to life in her hands. It was like a Pavlov effect on her pussy as she feels herself clench around nothing, eager to fuck herself for him.

The toy slides with little resistance inside of her as the clit stimulator begins to work its magic immediately, her back arching as she moans. She can feel the urge to close her eyes and blindly find her pleasure rising but she forces them open, eager to see what her client has to say. 

After a few seconds, he begins to type and she can only imagine what causes the delay, her mind flickering to images of a faceless man stroking his cock to her body. 

“So needy, so wet.”

“I can hear that wet cunt over your music, naughty girl. Do I make you this wet?”

“Fuck yourself for me. Call out my name, let everyone around you hear you cry for me.”

“Fuck, Gale!” She whines as she picks up the speed of her thrusts, the movement causing her clit to rub against the nub perfectly. “It’s…it’s so deep and it feels so fucking good…”

Her breasts sway to the rhythm she has become a slave to, almost popping out of the lingerie as the chair underneath her squeaks from her shifting weight. She can feel her mask begin to itch on her face as she starts to sweat, itching to remove it just so it doesn’t distract her. 

Instead, she spreads her legs wider and throws her head back in bliss for him. 

“Oooooh shit, oh fuck me,” She gasps as she hears the computer ping rapidly. “Gale, gods, Gale, fuck me, fuck me!”

The dual stimulation is causing her vision to turn spotty as she hits her Gspot, her entire back coming off the chair as she goes faster and faster. She thankfully has enough sense to raise her head to view his chat, her heartbeat thrumming in her ears.

“That’s it, darling, such a good girl. Look at you squirm for me. Look at you degrade yourself for me.”

“I can tell you are close. I can see your thighs trembling with the effort to keep them spread, to keep that slutty pussy open for me.”

“Gods above, I wish you could see how much I am leaking for you. It is a mess that I would love to cover you in. A devilish, sinful masterpiece.”

“I won’t last much longer. I need you to cum. Now.”

His last message had only been sent a few seconds ago and she took it in stride, changing her position so that she was practically kneeling and fucking herself roughly. Tessa could feel the drool leaking out of her mouth as her whole lower half seemed to throb in need, the tingles starting to spread up her body as she felt her orgasm quickly approaching. 

“I’m gonna cum, oh gods, I’m gonna-” She couldn’t even finish the sentence as she did one final, harsh thrust into her cunt. It sends her over the edge, her hips mindlessly grinding down further into the vibrations as she clenches over and over on the toy. It felt like too much and not enough, her body craving something more. Something real. 

Gale’s name is the only thing she can chant as she rides out her high, one of her hands going up to squeeze and pinch at her breast to extend the pleasure. After a few moments, she starts to come down, switching off the toy with clumsy fingers and letting it slide out of her.

“Show me.”

She knew what he wanted. It was the same every time she finished. Tessa gives the camera a lazy grin as she reaches for the toy and holds it up, showing the shiny and creamy texture before she does the same to her pussy. 

“The things I’d do to taste you, sweet girl. A tempest of my very own. Thank you for the show.”

His words make her look away for a moment in shyness as if she hadn’t just given him a very risque show. She turns back to the camera and blows him a kiss, wishing him a goodnight before she ends the stream and shuts her laptop. 

“Wow…” Tessa murmurs to herself, taking a deep breath as she stands up on shaky legs. She reaches for her phone and turns the music to something more alternative, more her speed, as well as turning the lights back to their lighter color. 

And so begins her nightly ritual after becoming her alter ego, Tilly Tryst. The mask comes off and is safely tucked away along with the rest of her clothes and toys. She fixes her bed and lights her candles, heading to the bathroom to take off her makeup and anything else she wears for her job. It’s like taking off a costume for her, or maybe an actor coming off stage. 

The bath she draws is usually her favorite part as she bathes herself in lighter scents. If she cared to analyze, it would be abundantly clear that it was like she washing away her sins or her actions. However, that would mean moralizing her job and that was a road she did not want to go down right now. 

Her phone pings as her muscles relax under the water, reaching out to see who could be texting her so late. The notification wasn’t a text though but a deposit notification. Gale had left her another very generous tip on top of his private stream payment. 

Tessa wishes she had someone to talk about this with, to see if this was healthy or if she should cut ties with him. This entire cam-girl job wasn’t even something she wanted to be doing. It was forced on her…subject herself to this or drop out of college. She knew others would have done the same in her position. 

Blackstaff Academy is the best wizarding school on the Sword Coast. Plenty of wizards of considerable acclaim had gone here and she was determined to be one of them. Her parents didn’t support her in her endeavors though they had no problem when her brothers had gone here. It was a sexist ideology, a kink in their plans to marry her off to a family friend to strengthen their role in society, and they hated her for it.

Other wizards at the school had a support system, a childhood of magical nurturing that inspired them to become even greater, and money or assistance to pay. Tessa had a childhood of sneaking magical tomes from her father and brothers, a support system of only her grandfather, and no money to her tattered name.

This is her last resort and thankfully, it was supplying more than she needed. It not only paid for her books, supplies, and other needs, but also her food and her rent. She finally felt like she was on the winning coin of fate. The last thing she needed was her only source of income to stop, even if it might be a dangerous game. 

And while Tessa would never admit this to herself, let alone a friend, she got a small thrill from her work. To be anonymous and yet so fully exposed is a different kind of adrenaline, not to mention the attention. Especially from her favorite clients. It fills a void that she desperately tries to hide.

She felt needed, desired, and for someone who went most of her life feeling the opposite it was like a balm for her soul…even if the methods were a little unorthodox. 

The clock in her room chimes, signaling the late hour, and she sighs before hauling herself out of the bath. Her last “first” semester started tomorrow and by the looks of her schedule as well as gossip in the hallways, it was not going to be an easy one. 

Tessa wraps herself in a fuzzy towel and softly pads back into her bedroom, fishing out comfortable pajamas as she finishes her nightly routine. Doors locked, windows shut, curtains drawn, and most importantly her laptop was shut. The bed calls her name as she finally settles in and down for the night, closing her eyes and drifting off into a dreamless slumber. 

[yuurivoice]

We've hit the stage of Echoes of Evalas' creation that I'm spending a lot of my quiet time with scenes and characters, including time that is usually occupied by...well, nothing creative. At least, it hasn't been creative time in a long while.

Some of the dearest and most important moments of my young creative daydreaming was before bed. If I might overshare, it was specifically as I lay in bed and tried to drown out unpleasantness I'd hear from other rooms of the house. I'll spare you the details.

I didn't even have music at the time, though in later years as I became a depressed teen, I'd throw some music on my computer to fantasize and fall asleep to.

Oftentimes, these stories and characters I'd contemplate were favorites from various things I enjoyed. In time they'd adapt and evolve into something of my own, in worlds and stories of my own making.

Sometimes it wasn't so grand. There were no sweeping narratives or adventures. Just some self insert character being comforted by a friend or a lover.

Recent nights, I've thrown on my EoE playlist and let my mind wander. I haven't really done that in a long time. Haven't had the need to these days. I'm not running from much. Life is quiet. But as I start to turn over more stones and find what's beneath some of the characters and themes I'm exploring, I've found myself here again.

I don't know if anyone will love what I am making, and I never have. Every person who has let my characters and stories into their hearts means a whole lot to me, though. I've not forgotten when all of this was nothing more than a comfort to myself to soothe away all my fear and loneliness.

As it all starts to come together I'm seeing a stark difference between where I am at as a writer and creative in general in comparison to BitterSweet Chapter 1, as I've revisited it recently.

The pieces were there but it's so clear to me that I didn't have the conviction that I do now. I didn't have the comfort or security of knowing that I can take chances and be bold. I thought I had to color within the lines, and lacked the confidence to really let it rip.

So as much as I've been looking forward, I've also looked back. Further back than I typically like to.

When Charlie said he never thought he'd be this old, that was real shit man. I was a morbid kid. I have a crystal clear memory of being on a school bus in Washington state. Blink 182 just dropped an album. I hate Blink 182, but I listened with a friend whose face I can barely remember. As the high schoolers got on the bus I remember thinking...damn, I'll never be that old.

Not sure what could possess a child to feel that way. Or how that feeling could linger for years. It took a long time to find enough faith in myself to live. Now that I've got it, I think I'm encouraged to give breath to those lost dreams and wandering fantasies. Echoes of Evalas is an exploration of that.

I can't even grasp what that really means yet.

Things like faith, anger, insecurity, and longing for change. I've rattled a lot of locked doors while digging up this story and putting it together.

I am uneasy. That's probably how I've ended up writing this essay in bed, and boy is it a rambling one.

There was a point somewhere. I am excited for what's to come, but uneasy. Not out of fear that anyone will like it or content brained thinking like that. More like...a reverence for this magical thing I've found. Storytelling is magical for me. And that's not me waxing poetic, I think there's something terrifying and beautiful about it. It is the thing I was made to do, and the actual experience of crafting a story like this isn't just fun. I'm removing chains from my soul.

If that ain't magic, I don't know what is.

Anywho, I need to sleep. If you read all that, thank you for putting up with my yapping. 💖

[epochofbelief]

Strictly Confidential: Chapter Four

A Feysand Modern AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: I finally did it! Shoutout to SZA's song "Saturn" for helping me finish this chapter. I'm so excited for where this is going, everyone. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged. No promises on the editing.

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other Feysand AU Fic (Completed)

Chapter Four

Feyre cursed herself for a fool from where she hid, deep in a supply closet on the fifth floor of Tamlin’s environmental empire, Spring Solutions.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. It had taken days for her to convince Tamlin to finally show him around her work. Only after she assured him she wouldn’t leave his side while there had he agreed to let her accompany him to the office on the following Friday morning.

Feyre forced her breaths to remain steady as another person passed by the door, the band of light between the door and the floor guttering with the motion.

“Where the hell is she?” A muffled, angry voice filtered through the walls around her.

But then the sound of the footsteps, along with the angry voice, receded.

Feyre took a deep breath. It was now or never.

She placed her hand on the cool metal of the door handle and pushed.

Three Days Earlier

The newfound knowledge of Tamlin’s alleged crimes slowly ate away at Feyre over the next several days. She couldn’t focus on her schoolwork. She missed a cold call in class. Her father called twice and she actually managed to ignore him.

When Tamlin returned on the following Monday, Feyre had to force herself to act as if nothing had changed. She let him touch her, kiss her, wax poetic about how much he had missed her.

Before he proceeded directly into his study to get back to work.

Feyre was on pins and needles for the hours he sat at his computer. She waited for the moment he somehow discovered she had accessed his computer and came to demand an explanation.

But he never did.

And so Feyre began to execute the next part of her plan.

When she came home from school on Tuesday, she gushed about how much she was enjoying her environmental law class. Tamlin listened intently, sitting forward on the couch as she paced in front of him, declaring her newfound intentions to pursue a career in environmental law. Lucien, who had been present for Feyre’s little performance, leaned against the kitchen counter behind Tamlin, eyebrows creeping higher and higher as Feyre delivered her monologue.

“That’s great, honey. I’m so glad you love this stuff as much as I do,” Tamlin said, eyes shining with sincerity. Feyre bit back her disgust.

“I really do,” Feyre said. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you would be open to me shadowing you at work. I would love to talk to some of your in-house counsel, just get a feel for what environmental law looks like in the real world.”

Tamlin sat straight up.

“Oh. Really?”

Feyre nodded, ignoring Lucien as he folded his arms at her words, his eyes tracking her every movement.

“Let me think about it,” was all Tamlin said. Feyre didn’t want to risk pressing harder, so she dropped the subject for the night.

But the next day, she resumed her prodding. Asked Tamlin if he had had time to think about it. After receiving a similar response, she waited until Thursday to ask once more.

In the intervals in between, Feyre found herself looking over her shoulder everywhere she went. On the train to and from the law school, during her walks in the park, while she was at the gym. She knew the FBI had to be on her trail, but never once did she catch a glimpse of Special Agents Claret or Lapis. And though she knew there was no possibility that Rhysand was the one observing her, she couldn’t help but wonder what he would think of her life if he was watching. Her quiet, appallingly small life. If he was watching, he would see her utter lack of a social circle, the disgusting amount of hours she spent hunched over her books, snacking on chips from the vending machine and whatever form of caffeine was closest.

It was probably better that Rhysand wasn’t the one watching.

On Thursday, Tamlin at last relented. He offered to meet Feyre at his office the next morning, for an hour before his lunch meeting.

And Feyre had duly accepted.

After her Friday morning class, she took the train back downtown, getting off at a stop about a block away from the enormous high-rise building that housed Spring Solutions. The receptionist, a young woman who looked to be a few years older than Feyre, struck up a conversation with her as they waited for Tamlin to emerge from the elevators that led up to his floor.

“I’m Ianthe,” the receptionist said, long blonde hair cascading over narrow shoulders, her sky-blue dress making her eyes pop. “You must be Feyre.”

Feyre gave Ianthe a nervous grin, shaking her perfectly manicured hand. This woman must spend hours on her makeup every morning. Her skin was absolutely flawless, lower eyelids lined with white, black mascara only further emphasizing those piercing blue eyes.

“Sorry,” Ianthe beamed. “Tamlin’s mentioned you a few times. I feel like I practically know you already.”

Feyre sucked on the inside of her cheek. “Ah.” Tamlin had never mentioned his gorgeous receptionist Ianthe. And yet he had been talking to Ianthe about Feyre so much that Ianthe already felt like she knew her?

Feyre reminded herself that jealousy was not a productive emotion. Especially when her boyfriend was in all likelihood a white collar criminal.

As Ianthe asked her about law school, Feyre wondered whether the receptionist knew about what went on behind the scenes at Spring Solutions. If there was indeed a “behind-the-scenes” to be spoken of.

Feyre answered Ianthe's questions with the shortest answers possible. But after the basic What practice areas are you considering pursuing? What led you to law school? What did you study in undergrad? questions, Ianthe launched into a monologue about how hard she had worked to decorate the atrium of Tamlin’s business.

Which was even more boring than the Administrative Law class Feyre had taken during her second semester of 2L.

To Feyre’s relief, the elevator to the left of Ianthe’s desk emitted a faint but elegant ding, and Tamlin emerged in his usual crisp, dark suit, his blonde hair perfectly arranged. Feyre pasted a smile onto her face, words sour in her mouth. “Hi, babe.”

Game time, Feyre thought. No matter how hard this would be, perhaps finding evidence of Tamlin's illegal activity would give her a stronger reason to break things off with him.

But hadn’t Rhysand said that Tamlin’s illegal activity would make it even more difficult for Feyre to leave him? Even dangerous?

Feyre shook her head, giving Ianthe a wave over her shoulder as Tamlin guided her into the elevator, a possessive hand on her lower back. Feyre turned to face him in the elevator, casually stepping out of his grip and leaning against the mirrored wall.

“How’s your day?” She asked. “Stressful?”

Tamlin stepped closer, one hand caressing her neck. “Much better now that you’re here.”

Feyre tried not to flinch away.

Gods, one second she was letting him pull her into bed and the next she couldn’t stand the feeling of his touch against her skin.

If she was honest with herself, discovering that he really was a criminal mastermind would probably make her life much less confusing.

Unfortunately, Feyre had to put up with Tamlin’s hands all over her as he toured her around the four floors of the high-rise that his company occupied. She met several accountants, a myriad of consultants, a plethora of assistants. Lucien joined them about halfway through the tour. He greeted Feyre as usual, but kept close behind her as they walked. Feyre couldn’t tell if his green eyes were tracking her every move or if she was just being paranoid.

At last, they reached the top floor—where both Tamlin and Lucien had their offices, and where the in-house legal department resided. Tamlin guided her into a large conference room, where several attorneys were gathered on one side of a long table, a lunchtime feast of sandwiches, chips, and coffee spread before them. It looked like a lunch break in all aspects except one: each attorney had a laptop propped in front of him or her, not even speaking to each other.

So this was what Feyre had to look forward to—work above all things. A twenty-minute lunch break to get to know one’s coworkers? Forget about it.

She knew in-house was different than big law, but if anything, big law firms like Hybern & Night were much more notorious for their bill or die mentality. These in-house attorneys were either unprecedented workhorses, or they were working on something important.

Feyre wondered if it was something illicit.

Feyre shook the three attorneys’ hands, smiling as they introduced themselves. Tamlin, Lucien, and Feyre joined them at the table, and Tamlin plated Feyre a ham-and-cheese sandwich, forgetting once again that she much preferred turkey.

But she smiled, ever the gracious and perfect girlfriend, launching into a stream of pre-prepared questions as the attorneys gave her their full attention. About halfway through the discussion, a secretary of some sort stuck her head into the conference room, telling Tamlin that he had an important phone call on line one. Tamlin excused himself, gesturing for Lucien to accompany him. Feyre waved them off, listening intently to one of the male attorneys—Hart—as he explained the benefits of taking “Tax Accounting for Lawyers” in law school. This rivaled Ianthe’s interior design diatribe in terms of how well it piqued Feyre's interest.

Feyre made herself wait two minutes before she excused herself to use the restroom.

As soon as she was clear of the conference room windows, she had to resist the urge to run. There must be cameras all around, and if she looked like she had a purpose, rather than lost on the way to the bathroom, this whole thing would be over before it began.

So, instead of rushing through the halls, she meandered, looking around herself, eyebrows scrunched together. She really should have pursued acting, rather than law.

At last, she passed what looked like an empty office. She shut herself inside, and almost giggled in nervous relief when she saw a phone on the desk. She picked it up, knowing the chances of it connecting to Tamlin’s line were close to zero—but—

She dialed one.

Tamlin’s voice erupted through the speaker the second her finger hit the button:

“What do you mean they’re not ready?” Tamlin growled.

Feyre almost gasped at the anger, the vitriol, in her boyfriend’s voice.

A muffled voice responded, so quietly Feyre almost missed it in her surprise at the harshness of her partner's tone. “They need another week.”

“We don’t have a week.” That was Lucien. Quieter, but just as tense as Tamlin.

“There’s no way they’ll be ready for you in time.”

“I don’t give two shits whether they’re ready. We’ll be there on the established date, and they better be ready to implement the recommendations we have already provided.”

The muffled voice didn’t respond.

“Brannagh?” Lucien’s voice cut through the silence.

“We’ll see you in a week.”

“Good.”

The receiver clicked. Feyre bit her lip.

This didn’t mean anything. It proved nothing.

But if it didn’t matter, why was Tamlin so angry? And what did “we’ll be there mean? He hadn’t mentioned going out of town again. . . Was this a local job?

Feyre bit her lip, carefully hanging up the phone before easing back out into the hallway, replaying the conversation she had just heard in her head. What did it mean? Was it innocuous or incriminating? Was it enough to bring to Rhysand?

Feyre wandered down the hallway, now truly on the lookout for the restroom. She had just spotted the signs when a man emerged from a conference room down the hall and to her left, clad in a much less expensive looking suit than the one Tamlin had worn, earbuds firmly fixed in his ears.

Feyre froze, but it was too late. He had seen her.

“What the hell are you doing down here?” The man demanded, striding purposefully toward Feyre.

Feyre swallowed, giving a little shrug and a sheepish smile before she turned down another hall, hopeful the man would conclude that she was the lost girlfriend of one of the many men who occupied the Spring Solutions Tower. Because that was at least one thing Feyre had learned about her partner’s business: very few women were employed there, and if they were, they were secretaries or Ianthe.

Unfortunately, Feyre heard the thundering of heavy footsteps behind her as she rushed down the hallway. Shit.

Feyre ducked into another hallway and threw open the first door she saw, breathing a sigh of relief when the sight of a dim janitorial closet greeted her, complete with mop bucket, broom, and shelves full of various cleaning products. Feyre slipped inside, standing where the door would hide her from view if opened, trying not to remember the few times she had convinced her older sisters to play hide-and-seek with her when they were kids.

Nesta rarely agreed, but Elain had played with her on several occasions, humoring her years-younger sister out of the goodness of her heart.

Feyre shook her head, clutching the hem of her suit jacket as heavy footsteps thudded by.

“Where the hell is she, Belfort?” A voice—this one different from the man with the earbuds—sounded from somewhere to her left.

“Do I look like I know?” The earbud man's voice responded.

Feyre swallowed, grateful when the footsteps faded away. Were these men unfamiliar with the layout of the building? Perhaps they were new . . . Or perhaps they didn’t usually work here. Because if Feyre were searching for a potential intruder, the broom closet would be the first place she checked.

She slid out into the hall, relief coursing through her at the sight of the empty hallway. She rushed back the way she came, looking over her shoulder as she turned back into the hallway where she had met the in-house attorneys—

Her chest collided with a wall of muscle, sweaty hands wrapping themselves around her upper arms in a grip that was just a little too tight.

Feyre turned to face her captor, catching a glimpse of hard dark eyes and a tight jaw, downturned lips and a forehead creased with anger, before a voice from behind the man had him straightening up and releasing Feyre.

“Is there a reason you’re manhandling my girlfriend, Belfort?”

Feyre stumbled backward, craning her neck to catch a glimpse of Tamlin, followed by Lucien and several members of what appeared to be the security team.

“Your girlfriend, sir?” Belfort asked, glaring at Feyre one last time before he turned to face Tamlin. “But—”

Feyre cut him off, striding toward Tamlin and setting a hand on his shoulder. “I got lost on my way to the bathroom. I think they must have thought I was an intruder or something,” she said with a laugh, leaning into her boyfriend’s side.

“Belfort?”

Feyre stared at Belfort and hoped his desire to avoid a disagreement with his boss would win the day.

Evidently it did, because Belfort held up his hands. “My mistake, sir. Please, return to your lunch.”

Tamlin nodded, turning so quickly that he missed the look Feyre caught on Belfort’s face—

It was a look that said, I’m watching you.

------

Feyre stopped at a coffee shop on her way home from Spring Solutions, even allowing herself the time to sit in a booth at the window to drink it. She pulled out her current read—Foster, by Claire Keegan—but the book sat abandoned on the table in front of her as she stared out the wide windows at the streets of Prythian, mulling over the events of the morning.

Tamlin’s anger during his phone call. The man on the other line—Brannagh’s—response. Belfort stalking her through the shiny bright hallways of Spring Solutions just because she had walked down the wrong hallway.

To a court of law, none of this had any meaning.

But that feeling in the pit of Feyre’s stomach, the flash of fear she had felt when Belfort had caught her, the small bruises already forming on her biceps from his grip. . .

Feyre’s instincts told her something was wrong, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to rest until she discovered exactly why.

She took a sip of her coffee, sighing through her nose, resolving to give herself ten minutes to collect her thoughts before she walked the rest of the way home to resume studying.

But any chance to calm herself flew out the window when a man slid into the booth across from her.

Feyre jumped a mile high before she registered the hazel eyes, the classically beautiful features, and the scarred hands.

“Agent Lapis,” she breathed.

The SA held up a hand, his lips pursed. “Please, call me Azriel.”

Feyre glanced around her, as if she hoped to catch a glance of Cassian—or Rhysand—hovering somewhere nearby. But the rest of the cafe was occupied by innocuous coffee drinkers and several students with books and laptops spread across the tables in front of them.

“Azriel,” Feyre said, forcing herself to take another drink from her coffee.

“I’m here for your answer,” he said, eyes scanning the room even as he spoke to her.

When Feyre didn’t respond, his gaze snapped to hers. Whatever he saw there put a frown on his face.

“Are you alright?”

Feyre shifted in her seat, and couldn’t resist the reflexive look she gave the bruises on her biceps.

Azriel’s eyes darkened, his hand tightening on the mug of coffee on the table between them. “What happened,” he breathed, his voice soft, but so lethal it sent goosebumps erupting over the back of Feyre’s neck.

“I got into Spring Solutions today,” Feyre started, but Azriel was already shaking his head.

“We know. What happened inside?” He asked, giving her upper left arm a pointed glance.

Feyre quickly and succinctly relayed the events of her time in Spring Solutions to Azriel, whose stoic expression didn’t waver as he listened.

“None of it means anything,” Feyre finished, running her hands through her hair. “But—I can’t explain it. Something just felt . . . wrong.”

Azriel shook his head. “It might not seem important or groundbreaking to you now, Feyre. But Rome wasn’t built in a day. Any detail learned now could always be useful later. And while none of what you told me today is enough for an indictment. . . It certainly could be if we learned more information.”

Feyre nodded, staying quiet. It was clear Azriel had more to say.

“You did a good thing, today, getting inside Spring Solutions. But if you agree to work with us, we’ll have to establish some ground rules. For your safety, and the good of the investigation.”

“My safety?”

Azriel nodded. “Rhys almost marched into that high-rise after you as soon as we sent him word you had gone there to meet Tamlin.”

Feyre blinked. “Rhys—Rhys knows I got inside?”

Azriel lifted a brow. “He’s the one leading this investigation. We keep him apprised of all notable updates.”

“Ah,” Feyre said, ignoring the cascade of confusing emotions that had unfurled inside her chest and stomach as soon as Azriel had said the words Rhys almost marched in after you.

“But the protocols will come later. What I came here to ask you today was whether you had decided.”

Feyre didn’t ask for further explanation. She knew what the SA meant.

She also knew her answer.

“Yes,” she said, her eyes meeting Azriel’s. “I’ll do it.”

-----

Author's Note: More Rhys is coming, I swear :)

Taglist:

@rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

[felixisourayofsunshine]

Okay so I really wanted to talk about emonette's character plus Shadybug and Clawnoir's relationship......... Well this is gonna be a long one so sorry in advance

Okay let's go!!!

So as we saw in the special emonette said that she was constantly bullied by Chloe(guess she doesn't change in any universe 😔 that damn brat I hate her.... not more than Lila though) and considering how broken she sounded that was not the same bullying that Chloe of this universe did to Mari that shit must've been extreme. However, I donot think that the bullying alone there must've been more aspects which lead her to the path of evil.

Well, while we're at it let's talk about this scene.. God this was so heart wrenching....

When she said that-

"I'm sorry mommy dear, I fine I just- just dropped my sewing kit it's A BIT DAMAGED"

When she said the above line while glancing at her face which reflected on those broken pieces of mirror.... I swear I wanted to cry. Don't you see how poetic this was, while she seemed to be taking about the broken mirror we can clearly see that the one who is broken Is her some one once said

"But that's the irony, broken people, are not fragile....."

So while emonette is completely broken inside she never lets show on her face, no matter how sad, how broken, how miserable she is she keeps moving forward, you wonder why? Well, because it's MARINETTE for crying out loud.... no matter what universe it is our Mari puts on a brave face in front of other, she tends to hide her scars and crying silently not letting others know. Even in the original universe she would have broken much sooner if it was not for Alya finding out her identity. But as emonette said herself she doesn't have loving parents, a best friend and a supportive boyfriend, she was left all alone to suffer without anyone by her side

I still wonder what her wish really was though, knowing her it certainly not power. Could it be something else which she yearns for. Okay so hear me out do you remember what she said to Mari? She said:

"Do you think that it'd be any different from how it is now? Guess what, I don't have your nice little life. The world where I'm from there are no awesome girlfriends to inspire me everyday, no amazing bff, lovable, calm and gentle mom or a boyfriend who doesn't think I'm a total loser...."

These lines broke me though 😭...

So my theory is that in that universe Tom is dead and Sabine is abusive( I totally can't imagine that tho) that would explain why she behaved like that with Sabine and she works in her dad's bakery to keep his name.

Oh well I have a worse on........ Both Tom and Sabine are dead and she was adopted by someome who were very abusive(let's consider that after she graduated junior high she moved out of that school and is probably out of Chloe's grasp) they even intended to sell the bakery, the only belonging of her late parents she was left with. That was when she met supreme and he offered her that in exchange of killing her abusive guardian she will have to work with him. So maybe her wish could be returning to those happy times with her parents without Chloe or any suffering. Well I guess it was a bit far fetched but anywaaaays.... 😅

Okay let's analyse another scene..... The one where she was reading Mari's diary.

What's interesting about her in Mari's room was that she certainly recognised her room and we can see that she does live in the bakery after all. The reason why she acted that way was to save her identity getting exposed to Claw Noir(which I don't think she cares that much about) or she really wanted to find out if this version of her had a better and happier life than hers.while she pretended that she wanted to look for clues, she went through Mari's personal stuff life her computer, her diary and her other things not because she was looking for clues but because she wanted know what kind of life this MARINETTE had.

Look, she was crying while reading that diary. She wants this life.

Just look at her... Looking into the life of a version of herself she wishes she could be. A world where "THERE ARE AMAZING GIRLFRIENDS TO INSPIRE HER EVERYDAY, AN AMAZING BFF, LOVABLE AND CALM MOM AND A BOYFRIEND WHO DOESN'T THINK THAT SHE IS A TOTAL LOOSER".

You see.. behind that evil mask there is a broken girl who longs to be loved. she wants a shoulder to cry on, hands who would embrace her tight when she is crying. She may look like a total badass who doesn't need anyone but no! that's not the case at all.

Aaaand I think she does have someone like that in her life already, and that person is the one and only CLAW NOIR. ........Even if she refuses to acknowledge it.

So, while she was shutted down, abandoned, bullied and absused her whole life and had no one to helf her up, Claw Noir was there for her,even though he is a total dork who teases her all the time.

Well yeah he is hella rude and disrespects her A LOT, it may look like she may never fall for him normally, but lets consider emonette's circumstances...... As much as we know she doesn't have anyone to rely on, no friends and probably no family. She never had anyone to inspire her. In a life like this...... After she got her miraculous and met Claw Noir, she finally had a reason to live, a reason to fight and a person, she could work together with and trust just a little bit yeah not totally cuz well he does let her fall head on..

In Mari's room when she reads the diary and learns about Ladybug and Chat Noir's relationship, their friendship, their partnership. She does look like she wants that too. (Also this may not apply to everyone but sometimes two people who like each other tease each other a lot....... )

They may fight eachother and not consider each other as partners, but they do make an amazing team. They may not be partners but they've got eachother's back at time of need. Just how Shadybug needs Clawnoir's strength while fighting and how Clawnoir relies on Shadybug's plans.

Also this scene...... While you can say that he is acting this way because he now knows that she is Marinette, the girl he likes.., but we know he is Adrien afterall he may care about Shadybug deep down without realising it and with him now knowing who she really is has realised it.

Just look at him he looks sad when he sees her cry too. He may act like he doesn't care but he actually does. He is like "I am the only one who can hurt her, anyone else who dares to do that must pay....." .

And the scene where she opens up to Mari was just so emotional, I literally started crying. There was pain, sorrow and grief in her eyes. She was suffering and was jealous of Mari,'cuz she thought that she had everything for granted, she thought that she never knew what suffering was like. Her words were so sad. But after Mari made her feel that they really are alike and changed her for better I felt so happy......

And after that when she met (now improved) Claw Noir they felt like they were more to each other and I loved it..

All I want now is a ShadyClaw series.. we need to know what happened after that.... And before they landed in the multiverse.

Well aren't they the cutest.

I wish they become a couple in future.....

Oh well that was a long one.....

Well I had it in mind for quite a long time but couldn't write it because I have exams coming 😭. But wanted to finish it before I forgot it. So here I am. I hope y'all liked it though.

Okay let's end it with a quote:.

“You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.”

I hope this becomes true for our beloved emoadrinette.

Bug out!🐞🐾

[twistmusings]

How did they disappoint someone today?

TW: Mild mentions of shaming (Riddle's mom), otherwise lighthearted and silly.

Riddle Rosehearts

Being the family disappointment. Again.

Ace Trappola

Breaking an expensive vase on accident and then responding by singing the Ouran High School Host Club theme.

Deuce Spade

Forgetting to call his mom. Mama Spade wasn't disappointed, but his friends were because they love butting into conversations with Mama Spade.

Trey Clover

Himself for preparing a delicious lunch for himself and forgetting it on the counter before he left.

Cater Diamond

Accidentally texted his sister a nihilistic meme he meant to send to Trey, and now his mom wants him to go to therapy.

Leona Kingscholar

Took a nap in a spare closet in alchemy class because he was in a bad mood and wanted to be left alone. Crewel found him.

Ruggie Bucchi

Stealing pens from work.

Jack Howl

His siblings miss him and he doesn't get to visit enough.

Azul Ashengrotto

His mother shipped him a care package full of food that she didn't realize it needed refrigeration on land and now the school post smells like old fish.

Jade Leech

Pondering too loudly about whether Azul being a cephalopod merman and having eight tentacles means he has seven crotches or not.

Floyd Leech

Yelling "Gyatt" every time Azul turned around.

Kalim Al-Asim

He let his inside voices outside for once and said a swear word, shocking everyone and earning himself a lecture.

Jamil Viper

Refused to comfort Kalim because "even if you said 'shit' accidentally, no he will not be giving you a feel-better hug, thank you.

Vil Schoenhit

Informed someone that no, just because it's Wednesday, he will not be wearing pink.

Rook Hunt

He fell off his broom while waxing poetic about the view and survived. Leona didn't care for that.

Epel Felmier

He purchased a package of snack cakes and distributed them to the freshmen in Pomefiore while shouting "Vive la révolution!". Vil was not happy about it, but Rook appreciated that his french lesson took at least.

Idia Shroud

Tricked someone into googling the term Hucow over the internet.

Ortho Shroud

Downloaded Bonzi Buddy onto Idia's computer because 'Idia needed a friend'.

Malleus Draconia

Asked Idia what a "glizzy" was.

Sebek Zigvolt

He tripped himself down the stairs and screamed so loudly that every classroom in the vicinity was convinced that some kind of emergency alarm was going off. He vehemently denies this happened. No one is convinced.

Silver

He fell asleep while riding his horse and was bucked off into a bramble. He didn't even wake up.

Lilia Vanrouge

He used his free period to make everyone in the dorm lunch trying to be thoughtful. The Diasomnia restrooms will never be the same.

[junosswans]

Batfam headcanons: Report Writing

I was thinking about nonsense then it occured to me "how would the batfam write their mission/patrol report?" Like, they must have very distinct personal style that you could recognise even through the standard bat-computer font. So I wrote this!

Dick: When Dick was still Robin, he absolutely HATED writing reports. "I write enough reports at school, B-man! Why would you make me write more??" He would attempt to wriggle out of the task by bribing Alfred with snacks or offering to do chores in exchange, because anything is better than sitting straight in front of the computer and typing (they usually indulge him and let him be). He'd also slip in a few swear words and gloss over details when he HAD to write something. His reports were short and written in a slightly childish manner. However, after becoming Nightwing and moving out, his report have made drastic improvement because hey, you definitely get a lot of practice in writing admin papers as a cop. His writing style is now concise and straight to the point, filled with professional jargons and divided in clear bullet points. All the photos are properly numbered and labelled, in a typical forensic science style. (Though admittedly, he still hates writing reports. But it's something that he wouldn't let his siblings know.) He's however, chronically late in submitting his reports, because he always has a lot of things to do and he has a bad case of procrastinating when it's something he dislikes.

Jason: Jason entered the clan with a lot of anxiety (Will I be accepted? Will I ever measure up to Dick?) And a lot of insecurities. So he treats report writing very seriously and is very detailed and thorough. He tries his best to adhere to the format Bruce gave him, and would triple check his spellings and grammars (another insecurity of him). As Red Hood, he still writes his reports (reluctantly) in the same cautious manner, and he would spend a lot of time profiling the victims and the perpetrators, because it always feels personal to him. He sympathises with both sides, understands their struggles and darkness intimately, and it shows in his written report. His reports on the person of interest's background and psychological analysis is always the most detailed and on-point. He writes in paragraphs usually, and he has a broad vocabulary that leans more on the literary side. Tim comments that he feels like he's in highschool lit class whenever he needs to read Jason's report for something, since Jason's prose always has a poetic and emotional tone to it.

Tim: Tim writes his reports dutifully and very seriously, but his seriousness doesn't always translate to a piece of good report. As a kid who has the tendency to ramble, is nosey, AND has photographic memory, Tim's reports are filled with details that nobody knows whether they are necessary. He would go off and transcribe all the dialogues he heard (including the passers-by), list out all the items in the nearby trashcan, and note down how the fast food shop down the corner has a buy-one-get-one-free promotion on hotdogs. He digresses a lot, but since his eyes for details did help crack a case once or twice (definitely more than that), Bruce lets it slip. His formatting are a mess, sometimes using bullet points and suddenly switch into paragraphs and then somehow becomes a tree diagram, his reports are definitely an eyesore (Bruce, regrettably, doesn't let this slip). As Red Robin, he's made a lot of improvements on his formatting (company paperwork does that to you) and is a bit more brief, but he still has the tendency to note down the oddest things in his reports. His reports also has the most amount of photos.

Cass: Cass is still pretty new to this whole writing thing and computer thing, so she gets a lot of leeway in her report writing. She is allowed to hand this work to others (if she's on a teamed mission), or use photos, pictures and handwriting/doodling to make her point (Bruce would later code & transcribe them to make them searchable on the database). Though given the freedom to not do the work (which her siblings are deeply envious of), Cass actually likes to write her version of reports as she treats this as an opportunity to practice her literacy. Her reports look like a collage journal with very sparse, simple writing. She also has the tendency to just put in a few seemingly unrelated keywords and let others figure out the significance behind them. They're usually very insightful and useful to the case. She also likes to draw in her reports, which everyone finds endearing. Babs taught her how to draw scientific diagrams and label the items, which she puts good use to. Since she's very observant to the human anatomy and body language, the family relies a lot on her reading when there is multiple suspects.

Damian: As "the proper heir to the robin title", Damian has a no-bullshit attitude on his reports. He submits them on time, is clear in his writing, and the format is impeccable. He has a very goal-oriented view on things, so his reports tend to focus largely on the outcome of cases instead of the process (a polar opposite to Jason's and Tim's reports). He would write a lot on how and when the culprit was captured, and the consequences that await them, while some other members tend to focus more on the process of deduction and puzzle-solving. Somedays, when he is particularly annoyed with others, Damian would slip in complaints into his reports and make sure everyone KNOWS he's upset. It's like a public call-out post.

Babs: As Batgirl, Babs writes the clearest and most condensed report out of everyone, cause she learned the best from her father. She has a keen eye on analysing material evidence, and would notice the smallest scratch on things and document them faithfully in her report. She likes to use abbreviations however, and that often confuses Damian and Cass ("what does OAN even mean?? Is that a type of wire??"). Sometimes she'd abbreviate the weirdest things just to confuse everyone else and they can beg her to explain them. As Oracle, she doesn't write any reports. YOU write reports to Oracle.

Steph: Steph is passionately against the idea of report writing. In her opinion, if she delivers the result there shouldn't be a need to write pages long of boring, bland descriptions on how that result is achieved. To various degrees of success, she would bribe others into doing the work for her ("work smarter, not harder, baby!") But when she has to write something, she would write in a very casual tone and often types with voice input. Therefore, her reports are filled with odd typos and occasionally hilarious choice of words (not because she couldn't be professional, but she doesn't want to be). Bruce is mostly frustrated but is also secretly glad that she's not forcing herself to do something that she doesn't want to. And she is true that she always delivers.

Duke: Duke is mostly neutral towards the aspect of report writing-- he's not particularly fond of it, but he understands that it is something important. Thanks to his superhuman vision, Duke is very alert in observing his surroundings and the environment. He would map out very detailed diagrams about building structures as well as machine components, which makes his reports very reliable when it comes to any kind of crimes related to alien items and technological innovations. Duke also has a large network from his Robingang, so he's very informed in the rumours and hearsays on the streets. He would include most of what he's heard in his reports so that others could follow up on them at night.

[xf-cases-solved]

S2E1: Little Green Men

Case: Welcome to season 2, where we start our journey with a melodramatic Mulder monologue. We love to see it. Or... hear it. Whatever. Point is, Mulder is feeling very poetic and melancholic about the Voyager program and the High Resolution Microwave Survey (both are real, btw), and this is relevant, bc at the long abandoned HRMS observatory in Puerto Rico, a transmission has suddenly started coming in. Could it possibly be from... aliens???

Well, Mulder certainly thinks so, and apparently so does his friend in congress, who tells him about the situation in Puerto Rico, and tells him to get his butt down there while he tries to hold off whoever it is who wants Mulder not to learn things this episode. Mulder—having no sense of self-preservation in the slightest and also a new job that he fucking hates—goes without a second thought. From there, the episode becomes a fun back and forth between Mulder's exciting Puerto Rican holiday (in a dark, abandoned building, as he makes melancholic tape recordings for Scully, bc that's who he was talking to in the voiceover, the fucking sap loser), and Scully desperately trying to get to Puerto Rico so that she can drag him back to Washington like a dog that got loose from its collar. Again.

Mulder and Scully both miss the X-Files and each other and it's cute as well as sad; Scully's "Mulder is doing something stupid" senses start tingling, so she guesses another password and breaks into Mulder's computer files; Mulder plays charades and pictionary with a terrified Puerto Rican man named Jorge; and Assistant Director Walter Skinner says NO to secondhand smoking. 

We're off to a great start, fam!

Does someone die in the cold open: Yes. Senator Richard Bryan murdered the High Resolution Microwave Survey project in cold blood 

Does Mulder present a slideshow: No, but he does eat an INSANE amount of sunflower seeds

Does the evidence survive the investigation: Well, Mulder literally says the words, "Nothing but evidence, and again, no evidence at all," so I'll let you take a guess.

Whodunit: You know, I don't think either of them were technically on a case this episode, so. No one, ig. 

Convictions: See above.

Did they solve it: Nothing to solve bc it wasn't a case, but also... yeah, no. They did not. -sad trombone sound-

[how do i determine if a case is solved? check the scale here: x]

THIS EPISODE IS SPONSORED BY: The Duolingo Owl. There are over seven thousand languages in the world, and yet, we as a species know so few (especially if you're American -- y'all, we do not do enough language learning in school). Learning a new language can broaden your mind, open you up to new cultures, and expand your social circle. You also never know when you may be trapped in a derelict building during a thunderstorm/alien invasion with a frightened Puerto Rican man you are incapable of communicating with because you didn't pay attention in Spanish class.  Lucky for you, the Duolingo Owl can help! By sending you moderately threatening lesson reminders every day, the Duolingo Owl helps ensure that you're on your way to learning a brand new language. So don't hesitate! Download Duolingo now to get started. The Duolingo Owl — our favorite little green man!

[as of the moment i am posting this, my duolingo streak is 2,632 days. anyway]

***

General Total Stats:

(green means stat has changed since last ep; red means new stat added to list)

Total Cases *Definitively* Solved So Far: 12 (nothin'. off to a good start guys!)

Total Number of "Mulder/Scully, It's Me": 3

Total Number of Times Scully Has Conveniently Not Seen Something Crucial: 6 (yeah, you know what, i'll say her conveniently not getting to puerto rico until after the whole -gestures at whatever that whole bright light situation was- counts)

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Been in Mortal Danger: 8 (i feel like if he had been in legitimate mortal danger then he would have died, but nothing hurt him, just freaked him out a little)

Total Number of Times Scully Has Been in Mortal Danger: 8

Total Number of Sexually Charged, Uncomfortably Intimate, and/or Flirty Moments Between Friendly Coworkers: 13 (there were a few i could count here that are borderline, but the two that definitely cross the line are mulder saying "i used to only be able to trust myself... now i can only trust you. and they've taken you from me," bc what the fuck, and then also the end where he says "i still have my work, i still have you," and scully grabs his hand, bc again, what—and i cannot stress this enough—the fuck)

Total Number of Autopsies Scully Has Performed On Screen: 3 (none, but it was actually really adorable how mulder was dictating to her in the recording about the state of jorge's body. i mean, rip jorge, but he was doing his best to give her information about the scene, not just for himself, but bc he knew she'd need as much documentation/evidence as possible to come to any conclusions)

Total Number of Times Scully Plays Doctor: 2

Total Number of Times Mulder Talks to an Informant: 14 (he doesn't come up much, but i'll count senator what's his face as an informant, sure) 

Total Number of Times People Making Out in a Car Are Hurt or Killed: 2

Total Number of Times Someone Correctly Guesses a Password: 3 (the impenetrable computer password of special agent fox mulder: trustno1. god i love the 90s)

Total Number of Nosebleeds: 4

Total Number of Times Mulder Has Tasted/Sniffed/Touched Something Questionable Without Following Proper Safety Procedures: 2 

Total Number of Times Someone Says "Trust No One": 3 (ok, i wasn't sure how to count this bc it was said aloud, but then it was also caught in a loop being said on the tape, and so instead of counting every individual time, i'm just going to a singular blanket tally for the whole episode)

Total Number of Times Someone Says "I Want to Believe": 3

Total Number of Times Someone Says "The Truth is Out There": 2

Total Number of Cigarettes Cigarette Smoking Man Has Smoked: 8 (but skinner told him NO SMOKING!! 😡) 

Total Number of Maggie Scully Sightings: 1

Total Number of Lone Gunmen Sightings: 1

Total Number of Alex Krycek Sightings: 0 :(

Total Number of Times I Had to Look Up What State the Episode Takes Place in Even Though I Literally Just Watched It: 9½ 

Total Number of Times I Had to Look at an Episode's Wikipedia Page to Fill This Out Because It Was Fucking Confusing and/or Too Boring for Me to Pay Attention: 5 

[oh good, the next episode is the host. that's definitely an episode i don't find unbearably disgusting and haven't watched in years bc i always skip it when i rewatch the series. so excited. hooray 😐]

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

okay so lately I've been thinking to post like fluffs or something and I already have a lot of ideas. So, I wanted to ask if you have any tips for new writers? I've been really inspired by your works and I wanted to start posting as well. <33333 (I'm new to asks so I have no idea if I did this right 😭 but tysm <3)

Me?!?! Little old me for writing tips?!?! I'm actually so honored, thank you so much 🥹 I actually put a lot of thought into this and all the different things I've learned along the way, so I hope this helps! And if you have any more questions, feel free to ask!!

Read. Okay, so I know that this sounds so cliche, but reading is literally a lifesaver for writing. I read a lot of fanfictions that pertain to the fic I'm writing to see how others did it and help guide the way I do it. Does that make sense?? I hope so 😭 Obviously don't copy anything, but like for my newest fic (that's coming out hopefully soon if I can beat this writer's block!!) rewrite the ending in every lifetime, I felt really inspired by @.forlix's setup for her fics and @astraystayyh's when the snow falls, we fall apart for act 3 of it. It also really helps broaden your vocabulary and allows you to get a feel for certain ways to describe body movements, tones, and facial expressions (something I've always struggled with!!).

Punctuation. I've always been SO BAD at punctuation because I was never taught how to properly use it at my school. Also, when I'm writing, I never use it because my thoughts are so flighty I feel like if I stop to put a period or something, everything will leave me. SO, I will always make sure to copy and paste my work into a free punctuation checker like Scribblr (it's pretty good, though there are a few things it will miss), but the one I like the most is ChatGPT. Like, I'm going to be so fr, it has SAVED my ass, but the only thing is you have to paste whatever you want punctuation checked, and if you don't want Chat to change the way you say something, just in parentheses say (Can you punctuate this without changing any of my words please). This will still check punctuation and spelling but will fit your personal voice.

ChatGPT. I literally don't care what anybody says; this resource is useful asf. Like, I use it for synonyms, definitions, and if I don't know the word I'm trying to think of, I'll input something along the lines of "Chan (word) his arm around her waist, leaning down to press a kiss to her head." (What would a good word be for the (word) above?) It's SUPER helpful for getting stuck on words like that!!

Ask for help. Like, I'm so serious, I will ask many of my very amazing mutuals (quite often, I might add) about the way I worded something, if my poetic quips make any sense, which way I wrote something sounds better, bounce ideas off each other; honestly, just about anything I can think of that has to do with writing, I have asked the amazing @yongbun, @jeonginsleftcheek, and @luvtak. So if YOU need anything, always feel free to ask me or anybody else that you feel comfortable with :))

Feel it. Okay, so this is helpful for getting stuck on really deep emotional scenes. I would get so into trying to make it look pretty that I didn't get down into the actual emotions. It's really helpful to just set your computer down, shut your eyes, and imagine the scene. Feel everything they feel—the anguish ripping inside their very soul, the way it feels like an earthquake has just ruptured in the base of their spine, the universe seems to be tearing apart with every breath they take. I don't know, just me personally, I love anything that pertains to the soul and super dramatic emotions. It makes me feel a lot less alone about my deep emotions :)

Writer's jealousy. I had to write something about this because being an artist, you are always going to see somebody better than you, and that can cause some really nasty conflict inside of you. Sadly, there is nothing I can do to stop that, but I can say really try not to let it get to you and instead view it as a learning experience from those people and how they write. Also, never compare yourself to others because all writing, whether good or not, is your most vulnerable parts because it is unique to you. And also, try not to please everybody—I promise you won't be able to. The same way people pay millions for a piece of artwork, another person wouldn't pay a penny for; it's just simply the human mind, and that's okay. But this also ties into Write for yourself. Nobody else. Just yourself. When you're writing, try not to even think that somebody else is going to view it. It will allow you to write what you really want but also get you to be a lot more vulnerable.

The first draft is shit. I'm so serious, every single one of my first drafts has been shit, and that's okay. You just have to edit your way up to something readable. Like, if you don't like how you wrote something the first time, that's okay. The first draft really is just you telling yourself the story, while the second, third, fourth, fifth draft is you telling others the story lol.

I don't think that there is anything else, but if I think of something, I'll definitely add it!! I hope that this helped you at least a little bit!! Thank you so much for asking me of all people for writing tips; it did wonders for my confidence lol.

[azucar-skull]

i just read your entire G.E.M au in 3 days and it was BEAUTIFUL . It was a tale of love, trauma, grief, laughter and HOPE , it made all of us be able to witness the Beacon Of Hope , and i could feel the static from my screen , i could feel Shelldon through the screen. i went to nyc and saw a peculiar yet frammiliar green glow on top of a building too , im sure its nothing though . next my computer started to have little purple sparks . then there was mist in the bathroom stall one day next to me . then there was heavy wind in the classroom today . then i lit a lighter and out of it came loud cackling fire . it all happened this one day when a strange but cool boy came to our school (rumor says he has a (green prostetic arm) , im sure it means nothing though :). thank you for this fanfic , i will now make fanart of the goober ghost boy . bye!

Okay first off, how the fuck did you read all of it in just 3 days like wtf you are fast--

Secondly, I love your poetic imagery of this too lol. I often joke with my friends that when there's smoke or rain or wind or electric or earthquakes that it's the ghosts. Like my island has been having a lot of floods lately and I'm like "God dammit, Leo’s at it again--" lmfao

But seriously, I greatly appreciate your message and I am so glad you've enjoyed GEM! I hope you are having an amazing day!

[bijoumikhawal]

Distinct but connected- comparing and contrasting Hebitians and Cardassians

One of my goals when writing Hebitians and Cardassians is I wanted them to be cultures with a long, not necessarily violent history prior to colonization under the Cardassian Union, with some level of exchange/relatedness, but also distinct, because I feel it's a dynamic people don't acknowledge as much.

Starting from their environment, Cardassians started as a polytheistic* pastoral community on the southwest of the equatorial contenient on Cardassia Prime, mostly in the desert directly south of the Valley of the Hebitians and the mountains further south of that. Over time, most Cardassians settled in the mountains and subsequently diverged, culturally, from those who retained pastoral life. Pastoral and settled Cardassians maintained necessary trade and kin relations long after, and pastoralism is still common in animal based Cardassian agriculture. The class system that brought the idea of the service class developed after mountain settlement, and the pastoral community is essentially outside of it (a status marked by their family seals having a circle border, instead of the polygonal borders used to designate class). The legal and social status of pastoral Cardassians is complex; other forms of iternancy are restricted, and in some ways the relationship between settled and pastoral Cardassians has degraded. Kin relationships aren't maintained, and the broader social perception often treats pastoralists as a museum exhibit. Additionally, pastoral communities, though they're outside the Cardassian class system, run the spectrum of wealth and severe poverty.

Hebitians, contrastingly, are majority a settled agricultural population** and began that way. It's currently thought Hebitian culture started in the northwest of the Equatorial contenient, either in the Valley of the Hebitians, the delta north of it, or in the Makhå (/ˈmaχɑ/) floodplain to its east. Archeological evidence is limited due to the Cardassian Union being happy to sell artifacts but not to allow drawn out digs from outside academics, and the Occupation signaling a shift where the Union refuses to recognize Hebitians still exist. Exceptions to this are the Thav and Åv, who live in the rather dry Helta Highlands, and a subsect of the Qåmtsu, who lived along the river and Ikhå /ɵχɑ/ delta in house boats. The Thav traditionally were largely fishermen and hunters; their primary contact as an fairly isolated population was the pearl trade. The Åv typically formed middlemen in that trade and engaged in mining and pastoralism.

Hebitians and Cardassians use writing systems derived from the same older writing system, which was originally suited for carving into wood, bone, or stone. The Cardassian version diverged first with the poetic script (which is written with a brush and has a lot of thickness variation), which the computer version seen in the show is based on as a pixel friendly format. A simpler merchant script is also used in school, diaries, and so on, and has little variation in line thickness. The Hebitians have a primary script that's traditionally written with a reed pen, and an older script that's largely fallen out of use that has both logograms and alphabetic elements.

Hebitian and Cardassian gender norms both associate women with metal (in dress and in industry) and being cool headed, while men tend to be seen as emotional/aggressive. Hebitians viewed this work not as "What is suited for women" so much as "men are unsuitable for this", whereas the former sentiment has more weight in Cardassian culture, though the latter also applies, making it so Cardassian women often work in STEM, history, and other jobs with a high importance on being "unbiased". For Hebitians, this has led to a level of favoritism towards women in leadership positions, though not a matriarchy (except for perhaps in the Thav culture).

Both place a high value on large families. However, adoption only has a stigma in Hebitian culture insofar as post-Union social influences, and even then, a citizen of the Union with a Hebitian background is more likely to adopt children. The taboo on adoption for Cardassians is philosophical and religious in nature and stems from how the soul and sin are conceptualized as being related to knowledge. Neither has a nuclear family structure as the norm, but Cardassians solidify family through blood ties more than Hebitians, whose families traditionally are more "unstructured" and built on informal association and blood (the difference being reflected in language as well, with Kardasi having a more specific family vocabulary). These differences in family building and importance of children have led to an "inside/outside" work distinction for female and male Cardassians, respectively. Both also recognize those as who help infants with thermoregulation as part of that infants kin, even if they aren't blood relations.

Both Hebitians and Cardassians have long standing xenophobic cultural tendencies. For Hebitians this reflects their history as a once very powerful family of cultures that controlled around a third of the equatorial contenient and which were known as hard opponents in war, the cultural shift during a long semi-voluntary peacetime and focus on internal politics, and conquest by the Cardassian Union. All three of these eras have had fluctuating cultural attitudes towards outsiders, and different strains of logic behind distrust and fear. For Cardassians today, the xenophobic tendency is tied to the militaristic elements of Cardassian nationalism, especially in their wars with the Klingon Empire and the Federation, and soills over to even affect old trading partners (such as the Ferengi; the word the Federation uses for them comes from Kardasi). The cultural supremacist ideology also has a strong impact. However, it does not come from unfamiliarity in either case. Even when many Hebitian states were isolationist, there were other cultures within them. And in the Cardassian Union (setting aside that Cardassians-as-a-species have many cultures), many planets in the Union had prior occupants that were absorbed into it; the Bajoran system was hardly an anomaly. Even those that were unoccupied possess non-Cardassian residents; people of other species have immigrated to the Union, have loved those from the Union***, and etc.

* Not much is known about older Cardassian religion, not even when mythic figures fell out of worship in favor of deification of the state current in Cardassian civil religion. It's assumed the belief in fate and interest in astrology comes from there, as well as the customs around burial and ancestral veneration. Hebitians make reference to Cardassian religious practices, but these are limited. For example, Hebitians do not use the proper names of Cardassian gods in historical documents- depending on who you ask, this is either because Orallists do not like using the names of foreign gods, or that it was Cardassian custom for others not to use their gods proper names as a matter of respect. Either way, this led to Hebitian documents largely using epithets (such as "lady of mount such and such") to refer to Cardassian gods. It's known the head of the pantheon was a married pair of gods, and that mountains were often deified.

** settled and agricultural does not always mean fields or monocultures. Many Hebitians practice what's called "integrated agriculture", sometimes to the exclusion of fields use such as in the Makhå (/ˈmaχɑ/) floodplain. Integrated agriculture ranges from the creation of environments similar to food forests to the planting and growing of crops integrated into city or even building infrastructure- the latter is where the name derives from.

*** culturally based marriage restrictions in the Union are defined by free and subjugated peoples. Prior to Kardasianization, a Hebitian and a Cardassian being enjoined would be impossible within the Union because Hebitians were classified as a subjugated people, as were Bajorans during the Occupation. A Vulcan and a Cardassian however, would have few legal issues as they are both classified as free people.

[fatfables]

What a Fat Shame!

A short poetic fat fable.

David Shame was by chance misnamed. By his moniker he was misframed. Shouldn't be blamed for his lack of shame, to others it was just a game. A shameful game for they thought he was to blame. How can you place the blame upon a Shame? If he’s not at fault for the weight he gains?

Young David Shame liked to play with trains, stay in his room, it was that plain. Never went out played sporty games, not with Jim and not with James. Never kicked a ball, never once, or again. Sat in playing computer games, eating chips, grew his ample frame.

Went to school in Fort Wayne. Where they tried to feed his brain. Make him clever, that was the aim. All his friends thought he was a shame, got in the way of his knowledge gains. Referred to his mouth as a drain, sucked in every single strain of available food that was his aim.

Sight of pizza set his eyes aflame. Constant hunger hard to explain. Burgers, fries, and milkshakes came. Everyday it was the same. Were his parents the ones to blame? Every day they called him names. Fatphobic names that caused him pain. Afterall, he was a blobby bain. Joined the young porkers hall of fame.

Teen David Shame accepts no blame. Feels only pride as his belly strains. Big as a house, Big as a train. Chugging forwards to constant gains. Attracted to fat like a moth to flames. Destined to reach the eating leagues post-season games. Getting fatter is not so lame when eating is your favourite game.

His appetite was not so tame, constant fast food deliveries came. Tons and tons of chicken chowmein. Every type of meat he would maim. Size of his stomach could not be contained.  Feet he would never soon see again. Yet still he felt no shame. Liked his size, liked his large frame. On Tumblr started to gain acclaim.

Felt more pride as his friends felt shame. Who was to blame for all his gains? Playing such a dangerous game. Arteries clogged and his feet felt pain. Diabetes was soon to came. Parent’s insurance he would claim. Oh my, oh my, they would exclaim. What a shame to have a son who gains!

Ass as wide as the Great Plains. Started college he did proclaim, “Freshman fifteen I will gain!” Only fifteen pounds it felt so tame. Only fifteen pounds would be a shame. May as well just maintain. Started on a new campaign, fresh challenge to obtain as much more fat as he could gain.

300 lbs was far too lame, 400 was a better game. A rolly-polly roll play game where the only roll was to be as fat as Shane. Or was it Shawn? The king of gains. The one he wanted to became. Ate chilli till his belly became inflamed. No more food could it contain. Downed a cartoon of full fat milk again.

Fat-ass, lard-ass, the names still came. College bros thought he was to blame. To taunt him was still their game. Shame him into losing, they did explain. Unaware of his need to gain. Bigger he grew, too big for a plane. Oversized luggage at the baggage reclaim. David Shame was not to blame. Just needed the dopamine from his brain.

Read more gainer stories for free at https://www.fatfables.com/

[07planetarium]

📂💻❤️‍🔥🔬💭📖🧪🌃 pt.2

here was part 1!

joy of reading!!!!! the last 2 years in all aspects of my life has been the brightest and fullest years of my life so far, & no doubt part of it was the works & books & articles i read which seeped through my heart and was transmuted into something different but with the same glimmer. i touched life and grasped it with my own hands. i don't plan on stopping that ever.

the topics i want to acquaint myself with are still more or less the same: theory (degrowth, socialism, etc - haven't had the chance to do so since i was so preoccupied with my skripsi), science (a particular emphasis on neuroscience + cogsci topics), and indonesian history + poetry, always. a lot of there were carried over from the first iteration, but some i've reprioritized & c.

books i’m reading  + i’ll be at literal in terms of book-logging as always! ( *^-^)ρ(^0^* ) WITH MY FRIENDS YAYYYYY

currently reading + on hand The Night Tiger by Yangsze Choo Make Time for Creativity by Brandon Stosuy The Waves by Virginia Woolf Konferensi Asia-Afrika 1955: Asal Usul Intelektual dan Warisannya bagi Gerakan Global Antiimperialisme oleh Wildan Sena Utama Software for Artists Book #003: In Poetic Coalition, edited by Zainab Aliyu & organized with The School for Poetic Computation Soft Science by Franny Choi Cerita-Cerita Bahagia, Hampir Seluruhnya oleh Norman Erikson Pasaribu Psychopolitics: Neoliberalism and New Technologies of Power by Byung-Chul Han

to acquire + read Braiding Sweetgrass by Robin Wall Kimmerer Alternatif Sebagai Strategi: Akses, Infrastruktur & Pengetahuan oleh Nuraini Juliastuti Lighthousekeeping by Jeanette Winterson I Am My Own Home by Isyana Artharini Membisikkan Bekal untuk Perjalanan yang Sangat Jauh: Pendekatan Feminis dalam Kerja Seni Budaya by various writers, with the support of Peretas (Perempuan Lintas Batas) and Puan Seni (Jaringan Seni Perempuan) The Case for Degrowth by Federico Demaria, Susan Paulson, Giorgis Kallis, Giacomo D′Alisa Marx in the Anthrophocene by Kohei Saito (or anything of his relating to degrowth communism) Indigenous Species by Khairani Barokka Experiments in Imagining Otherwise by Lola Olufemi The Idea of the Brain: The Past and Future of Neuroscience by Matthew Cobb Innate: How the Wiring of Our Brains Shapes Who We Are by Kevin J. Mitchell Kiri Asia Tenggara: Pembacaan Ulang atas Beberapa Tokoh dan Karya, disunting oleh Jafar Suryomenggolo Matahari Yang Mengalir oleh Dorothea Rosa Herliany Gambar Kesunyian di Jendela: Kumpulan Puisi oleh Shinta Febriany Catatan-Catatan dari Bulan oleh Rieke Saraswati Rifqa by Mohammed el-Kurd Economic and Philosophical Manuscripts of 1844: Human Requirements and Division of Labour by Karl Marx Our Bodies & Other Fine Machines by Natalie Wee On Decoloniality: Concepts, Analytics, Praxis by Walter D. Mignolo, Catherine E. Walsh

will obviously be reworked & mended with. thank you for my friends who also shared their reading list with me i am sooo excited to be here with you.

i have also been collating Ideas on arena. join me?

[clementinefight]

In the summer/fall I must take a course here...

[doublegoblin]

wax poetic so cuntily is certainly a string of words you typed out on your computer. oh my god. you love. just saying things. also WOAHHHHHH FIRST AND ONLY EVER FIGHT???? this guys got hands. did you win

Lol it was middle school and yeah, to put it bluntly, I beat Jesus into the guy

[tamagaytchi]

When you write in a physical diary, each letter and sentence take more time and space than if you were to type it on a keyboard. Because of this, I like to shorten my entries, edit away loads of my thoughts, to make it fit better with the time I have and want to spend on it.

There is also the component of physical size. When you write on a computer, the screen is always the same size, and what you put onto it is easy to edit in post, but with a physical page (although that page, too, is the same size each time) I experience myself almost expanding the entire layout with each word.

Not sure how to best describve it, but to summarize: the creative task of making a nice page on paper is different from making a next page on a screen.

So, I tend to edit alot when I write diary entires. Edit the message I want to tell to fit with my time and the space of the page, and this editing is a process in which ideas, thoughts, feelings and moments gets lost.

I have a habit I dislike, of doing a summary-type edit, where I want to fit in as much information as possible in the time and space I have. I dislike this edit default, because I don’t find it that interesting to read in hindsight. It helps me practice my memory of the day and moment, but in doing so, what I write down is stuff I tend to remember, thus making the experience of reading them again years later into a stale and uneventful task almost. Or atleast, when there is a sheer mass of these types of entries, reading them is boring. To me.

What I really like reading in hindsight, are the times I go for a poetic-edit to shorten space and time. Fitting keywords into the text, that when I read them, unlock the place and time for me in the present. It’s less formal.

I also like to read when I vent big emotions, because these big emotions cool with time, and it’s easy to forget how real and strong they were. I also believe that when I re-read some of my big emotions and the cause and context of them, I feel respect for myself and my emotions. There’s a difference to how I remeber my actions or state of being when I was 14 if I know to extent of my emotions or if I don’t. I might remeber being mad at someone, and deciding to not see them, and I remember feeling shame in hindsight, becuase today it feels silly of me to have let my emotions decide that. But then I read in my diary how sad, angry and hurt I was, how it stopped me from enjoying my time or going to school due to stress, and suddenly i respect my choice.

Things like tickets, photos, reciets of resturant visits etc are all really powerful too. Visual things that reveal so much, especially paired with eachother !

[greyslates]

more of me mourning the loss of my 10 year old mac os computer that was honestly rlly shitty but i loved it anyway

i drew my first digital piece on that computer, i beat sans in middle school on that computer, i played my first roblox game on that computer, i made my first email account on that computer, i made my first steam game purchase on that computer, i was watching ihascupquake markiplier mlp and sonic videos on that computer !!!

its like im finally losing the last piece of childhood i took with me that i really cared about... something something poetic bullshit about being forced to grow up and time never stopping for anyone...

im about to get real ugly emotional rn but that computer was like another sibling to me and now i have to let go and its fucking soul crushing like someone close to me died,, totally not thinking of dirk and hal and comparing that relationship to me and my 2013 mac computer IM FUCKING MENTALLY ILL RN i need to take my depression meds holy fuck

i also got stuck in a storage facility a few hours ago so thats also made me more insane than usual tonight

that computer was my only source of comfort for years when things in my life were so hard, like it lived with me through everything, its seen the worst of me and yet it still kept going

it just stopped working when i finally became happy with how my life is,,,, like it was leading me up to this point and now i have to keep going alone but stay strong...

i know i sound way too emotionally attached to an object but fuck off !!!!!! ppl get attached to worse things

pouring one out for my beloved 2013 macos, u were loved beyond your years and im sorry i couldnt be there for your last days but i will be forever grateful for all the joy you gave me..