#This is one of those reasons I love writing so much

[honeytonedhottie]

beauty and brains⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀☕️

in this post we'll talk about how to implement continual learning into ur life and how to nurture ur intellect and ur beauty, like elle woods for example…💬🎀

MINDSET ;

first off lets take a look at ur mindset. you need to be willing to learn and if ur stubborn then ur not gonna allow urself to learn and become smarter so for that reason mindset is the perfect place to start when ur starting ur beauty and brains journey.

perspective is EVERYTHING when it comes to learning. if u have the belief that "i hate math so much, im so not good at it etc etc" you're already setting urself up for failure. remember that we are in charge of our own learning.

figure out the sources of ur limiting beliefs about urself and challenge them. ask urself "why do i think im bad at math (or any other subject)" and the answers that u give urself, CHALLENGE them.

UNDERSTAND THAT ;

before we go any further understand that no subject is too complicated to learn and if ur experiencing that then ur learning it the wrong way…💬🎀

if ur having a hard time understanding a subject in school because of the way ur teacher explains it, ask another teacher at ur school and if that doesn't work turn to online resources OR just ask chat gpt. i ask chat gpt to help me break down math problems and explain how to do them and it works rly good for me.

READING ;

from my own experience i feel like reading is so so important. bcuz reading helps u to expand ur vocabulary and improves comprehension and so much more. personally i love to read so this isnt hard for me to do but if u originally dont like to read here are some ways to romanticize reading.

♡ start with topics/genres that u love

♡ set small goals (like reading for 5-10 minutes a day) and then building upon those goals

♡ experiment with physical books, e-books etc to figure out what u like best

WHAT U WATCH ;

i watch a lot of discussion based youtube videos, and video essays, documentaries etc and i have learned so much from them and they're actually one of my favorite ways to learn things. so i highly recommend watching some. watching things like this is so important because they provide a deeper understanding of real-world issues, cultures, and events that we might not encounter in our daily lives.

HOW TO UNDERSTAND ;

understanding what u read and what u learn is so so important. the way i make sure that i understand what im learning is through writing papers. writing papers about things that interest me or things that i learn has helped me to retain what i learn instead of forgetting it all.

another key thing to remember is PRACTICE. if u dont practice what u learn you'll literally forget it. use everything that u learn and if u can't physically use it, imagine urself using it.

MAKE IT A GAME ;

this is where the beauty aspect of the phrase "beauty and brains" comes into play. make learning like a GAME. i think thats how u get smart the best. just implement it into ur daily life.

for example if u have a habit of watching an episode of ur favorite show a day (or multiple) between episodes read for x amount of time. if u go for a run everyday listen to an audio book whilst running. think of that scene in the movie legally blonde where elle was reading her textbook while working out.

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny, sorry this is such a long ask, but you’re writing is so yummy I had to see this play out… can i get a mille-feuille, sausage roll, pithivier, s’mores, mint julep, whiskey, and dark roast coffee served by charles or max, you can chose which one:)

bakery menu!!

want to submit your own order? then hit up the menu! thank you to all the submissions for the bakery! i love them all and i am going through all of them slowly, haha. i love writing these so keep 'em coming!! thank you! a few things were changed regarding pronouns

mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + sausage roll ("i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt.") + pithivier ("if you don't behave, i'll let the boys take care of you.") + s'more ("The accent gets to you, doesn't it?") + mint julep (punishments) + whiskey (degrading language) + dark roast coffee (sub!character) served by charles leclerc (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk/degrading language, sub!charles, punishments, motor mouth charles, bondage, implied oral sex, cowgirl position

charles could be bound to your bed, but as long as his mouth wasn't gagged. he would be a good submissive and make sure that his mouth ran until you finished. you loved that, his dirty talk. it drove you crazy, crazy enough that you'd bind him to the bed and take a ride on his cock to fill that sexual itch you had all day.

you panted with your hands on his shoulders, "if you don't behave, i'll let the others take care of you." an empty threat. as if there were others. charles just chuckled and gave you that winning smile.

"The accent gets to you, doesn't it?"

in a traditional sense, you were the dominant one and charles was more of the submissive type. he aimed to please in the bedroom, it was a reason why he was always a favourite with the women of monaco. but while he enjoyed his time with them, he fell nicely into your arms.

it was evident that you were more of the one to take charge in the relationship. like when the press caught a photo of you feeding your darling charles strawberries while you were out. or another time when you had your hand on his lower back as you stayed close to him. even though he was a big taller than you, you were still protective of the angel you called a boyfriend.

"such a good boy." you panted as you rested yourself up onto his chest. mindful of the weight on it. you had spent the last ten minutes with your hand in your boyfriend's dark hair while you rubbed your achy cunt up against his face. he was bound to the bed, seated upright with his hands behind his back. enough pillows to cushion them from the headboard.

he tilted his head back and nodded a little, "oui, madame." he panted before he looked at you. those green eyes hazy from the intense lust, "je veux plus. i want more." he swallowed, his chin and lips were covered in your wetness. the angle he orally pleasured you was odd, but he devoured you like a hungry man.

you got down to his waist and easily sank yourself onto his cock. he yanked against the binds a little bit. you were giving him exactly what he asked for and he could feel the buzz of pleasure in his brain as you wiped his face with your hand before you pulled him in for a hot kiss. he groaned against your lips as you continued to rock your hips against him.

"that’s it, fuck, that’s a good boy.” you said when you pulled away and continued to hold onto his strong shoulders. you moaned loudly against him. you could feel the heat through your body as you two moved together.

"always for you." he said, "anything for you. why don't you take this ropes off of me and let me show you how to fuck properly. i know you want it, my love. to feel me much deeper." he could feel the rush of pleasure through his body.

he knew this was a punishment.

"i don't think so, my love." you replied as you continued to ride him. your short nails dug into his shoulders as you moved against him, "you know what you did wrong. we have rules remember?"

he moaned when you kissed him once more. he felt excited and hot all over. he was always expected to be the big strong dominant one in the relationship. and while he could easily dominate on the track. it was nice for the bedroom to be under you so pretty. to let you work his cock and leave him in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned a little louder when you broke the kiss and started to move your hips faster.

he moaned then said, "i wonder how much i could get for photos of this cunt." he said with lust in his voice, "get a lot of photos of it while you rode me." he chuckled a little bit, "you like how it all feels, you around me. you are so good to me, mon cherie." then shuddered when your pace slowed down by the thrusts got longer. the strength of them pulled words out of charles' mouth.

you made out with him sloppily as you continued to move. allowing your lover to be placid under you. you came first, your lips against his. when you finally broke the kiss after you hit your peak, you saw the redness around his soft lips. you continued to move and he continued to run his mouth.

the throb in his head was strong, the want in his body made him tense up. he shuddered at the feeling of you, you felt well beyond a dream. "you're pretty like this, madame. you take me so well. i love you, i want you. you treat me so well." he groaned a little bit as he yanked at his constraints a little more. he felt the urge to orgasm down to his bones and he knew he'd finish in you soon enough, "you complete me. you make me dirty like an animal who needs you. give it all to me." he said between hearty pants, his toned chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

he was only able to climax when you pulled him in for another hot kiss. then he arched his back a little bit. he always looked so beautiful when he climaxed. the type of beauty that struck you to your core. you managed to make yourself climax one more time before you slowed your pace to a stop.

you held his face in your hands, he rested all the weight in his head against you and looked in a state of heightened bliss. he groaned when you got off his cock and kissed his forehead. his brain was running hot and he yearned for his madame's sweet touch.

"you're going to be a good boy for me now? no more being a jealous submissive and telling your teammates how good i fuck you. i don't need the entire world to know how much of a good boy you are for me."

he gave you that charming smile and said, "mon amor." he chuckled, "i want them all to be jealous over how good we are for each other." and while you couldn't argue too much with that. as you undid the ropes, it was about the principle of the matter.

you didn't want everyone to know how much of a slut charles was <3

[joeyb1989]

running home to your sweet nothings* - joe burrow

summary: after a frustrating and hard loss to the chiefs, joe only wants you.

word count: 3.7k

pairing: joe burrow x reader

warnings: angst, fluff, smuttttt, sad/anxious/frustrated joe, pet names

a/n: another fic from me? what is this? LMAOO no but i’ve had an idea to write a fic based on sweet nothing for a while and a request came in and i knew it was the right time. if this fic sounds like total brain rot im sorry. i wrote this while i have covid and i haven’t really left my room in three days😭😭 anyways, hope you all enjoy.

*i didn’t really read over this, so if there’s mistakes (or if it’s just bad😭) please ignore them*

You were snapped out of your focused state by Joe placing a small object on the coffee table. “Look what I found in my pocket,” Joe added context to his action.

Your gaze left your notebook and found his outfit, seeing him clad in a gray t-shirt, which showed off his muscles nicely, and black cargos, which he loved wearing this past offseason. You look down at the small object to see the pebble you and Joe found in the off-season. “Do you think it ever misses Columbus sometimes?” Joe asked, joining you on the couch.

Flashback to this past off-season

“The sunset looks so pretty,” you smiled, taking a picture with your digital camera.

“You look so pretty,” Joe wrapped his arms around your waist from behind pressing a kiss to your cheek, earning a blush from you. “What’re you taking pictures of, sweetheart?”

You and Joe traveled to Columbus this weekend for his friend’s wedding a few days ago. You two decided to rent an Airbnb for the rest of the week to get in one last vacation before the season started.

“Those pebbles down there,” you said, pointing to two pebbles on the ground. One was an orangish-red color while the other was an almost-purple color – both Joe's and your favorite colors. “It’s like they represent us. They’re the only colorful ones.”

“How ‘bout we keep them?” Joe smiled as he picked the two up, putting the orange one in his cargo pants pocket, while handing you the other.

End of flashback

“Maybe,” you shrugged, “I thought we lost yours.”

“Yeah, me too. Yours is still in your memory box, right?” Joe asked.

“Mhm, we need to figure out what to do with them,” you sighed, “I don’t even remember why we took them home.”

“I don’t think there was a reason, baby,” Joe chuckled as you set your notebook on the coffee table, giving your full attention to him, “It just felt right.”

“I’ll put mine in your memory box before I leave,” Joe said, laying his head on your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, “I wanna get my cuddles in right now.”

Even though Joe had this big male bravado out on the field, he was a total softie with you; which you loved. You loved how much comfort he found in cuddling with you, just like the comfort you found in cuddling with him.

“Nothing is bothering you, is there?” you asked. Joe would never say no to cuddling, but you knew that when he initiated it, something was going on in his head.

“Can I not just want to cuddle with my fiance?” Joe asked playfully.

“No, you can. But I just know that there’s probably something going on up there,” you said, running your thumb over his forehead.

“Just nerves, babe,” Joe sighed, burying his head into the crook of your neck.

Joe hated talking about his worries with anyone. The only exception was you, even if it did take a while for you to get it out of him. There were many times during his knee and wrist rehab when he would shut you out and keep all his fears trapped inside, but the two of you finally moved past that.

“Let me in,” you soothed, lightly scratching his scalp.

Joe sighed again before craning his neck to lock eyes with you. “The game tomorrow. I mean you were there last week, you saw how we all played like dog shit. I just… we can’t afford to play like that again. I can’t afford to play like that again. I know that we’ve improved this week at practice, but all of this outside noise doesn't help.”

“Joe,” you whispered while rubbing his back. It killed you to see him so worried about football. Football has been his life since he was a kid.

“I know I shouldn't worry about what people think… but I can’t take it sometimes. I know who I am. I know what the team is. I don’t get why we can’t put it together on the field. And those guys… it’s always hard to play them. I just… I’m tired of everyone’s opinions about me,” Joe expressed, undefeated.

The vulnerability and uncertainty in Joe’s words shock you to your core. Usually, Joe wouldn't care who was talking about him or what they were saying, but since the loss to the Patriots, he’s been very doubtful of himself.

“Baby,” you began, caressing his head, “I hate seeing you like this. You know why?”

“Why?” Joe whispered against your chest

“Because I know who you are and you know who you are. I hate when these middle-aged, couch potatoes of men get you down on yourself. You are Joe Burrow. You are a national champion, first draft pick, and one of the top quarterbacks in the league. But most importantly, you are Joe Burrow, the same guy that always gets back up when he’s down, the same guy that can do anything puts his mind to, and the same guy that always goes above and beyond everyone’s expectations.”

Joe sat up before bringing you into a hug, “Thank you, baby. It’s good to know that you’ll always be here even when the league gets tired of me.”

Ever since the two of you started dating Joe’s rookie year, you have always been there for him. You guys were just dating for a month when he injured his knee, but you made sure that you came over every day, even though you spent the night most of the time, to be there for him. You quickly fell in love with him after seeing how dedicated he is to everything in his life. He fell in love with you after seeing how caring and passionate you are about everything. You’re always there to hold him, comfort him, whisper sweet nothings to him, or give him endless pep talks after a hard loss or just a frustrating day of practice. He always found himself running home to you and your sweet nothings.

“What have you been working on today?” Joe asked, looking at your notebook on the coffee table.

“Just a little something,” you smiled, “you can read it if you want. I mean, it is about you.” One of your favorite hobbies was writing poems. It all started in college when you took a poem-writing class, and you just never stopped. Joe loved it about you. He’s read every poem that you have ever written. He always compliments you, it happens all the time. He loves them even more when he is your muse, though.

You watched as a smile curled on his face as he read your written words. “What a mind,” he said, kissing your forehead repeatedly, causing giggles to spill from your mouth. You eventually pulled his face down so that your lips would meet. The kiss quickly heated up as he moved you into his lap, his crotch under yours.

“Mmm, Joe,” you whimpered as his lips found the sweet spot behind your ear, lightly nipping at the skin. “Don’t mark me up too bad, baby.”

“No promises, sweetheart. Gotta let everyone in Kansas City know that you’re mine,” Joe growled.

Joe groaned as you started grinding your hips against his, feeling hardness below you. His hands went under your flimsy t-shirt as your lips found his again, Joe pulled away as he lifted it over your head. His eyes darted to your perky breasts – supported by an orange, lacy push-up bra. “Holy shit,” Joe said breathlessly, “I swear to God, you get more and more beautiful every day.” He unclasped your bra, watching it fall off your chest before attaching his mouth to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your hard nipple.

“Baby,” you moaned as his hand gave your other breast a hard squeeze before moving his mouth to it and his hand to the other. “Joe, I need you inside me. Right now.”

“You’re awfully needy, aren't you,” Joe smirked, but quickly whipped his shirt off before unbuttoning your jean shorts, pulling them and your panties down at the same time. You reached down and hooked your fingers in his waistband, prompting him to lift his hips to give you easier access to pull down his boxers and shorts. Joe caught a glance at the clock, knowing he had to leave soon to catch his flight to Kansas City. “Baby, we gotta be quick, ‘kay?”

You nodded, giving his cock a few slow pumps before lining it up with your slick entrance, both of you moaning at the fullness. You set a fast pace snapping your hips into Joe’s, making him groan in pleasure. Joe was never loud in bed, except for when you rode him. He loved watching you move on him, your boobs bouncing with every move while chasing your pleasure with his dick.

“Mm, Y/n,” Joe whimpered into your ear, making you feel hot all over, “Just like that baby. Making me feel so fucking good with that tight pussy.”

“Joe,” you whimpered a few minutes later, slowing your pace as your legs got tired. Joe immediately understood you by your body language and began helping you move on him.

“Shit, baby,” you moaned as he continued to move you, but started to buck his hips up into yours and take one of your nipples into his mouth.

Joe knew you were getting close to release as your walls squeezed around him. “Come on baby, make yourself feel good,” Joe panted.

That was all the motivation you needed to grab onto the back of the couch for leverage and start bouncing on his cock, chasing your own pleasure while making Joe feel good too.

“Shit, that’s it. That’s my fucking girl,” Joe moaned as his cock twitched inside you.

“Joe- I’m-” you began before he bucked his hips into yours, hitting your g-spot. “Oh my god-”

“You like that?” Joe teased as he did it again, this time harder, making your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Joe!” you screamed as your orgasm washed over you. 

A few more thrusts later, you felt Joe empty his load into you, your still-spasming walls milking every last drop of him. He pulled you into his chest, kissing your forehead. “You did so good, baby,” Joe panted, “Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you smiled, burying your head into the crook of his neck, “That was intense, though”

“I think I passed out for a minute,” Joe chuckled.

As you two caught your breaths while whispering sweet nothings into each others’ ears, you almost didn’t notice Joe’s phone ringing.

“Shit,” Joe murmured as you handed it to him.

“Hey man, are you… going to the game?” a man teased on the other side of the line

“Yeah sorry, I… wanted to get one last workout in and lost track of time. I’ll be there soon, Tee.”

“Workout?” you teased as you wiggled your eyebrows.

“Well… many calories were burned,” Joe smirked, lifting you off his cock, both of you hissing at the sensation. Joe walked into the kitchen and came back a few minutes later with paper towels to clean you up.

After cleaning you up, getting you dressed, cleaning himself up, and getting himself dressed, Joe grabbed his bags and loaded the car up with them.

“Be careful on your flight, okay?” Joe said, wrapping his arms around your waist as your arms went around his neck.

“I will, don’t worry about me,” you smiled, ruffling his hair before fixing it.

“I always worry about you, you know that,” Joe whispered against your lips.

“I know,” you stated, pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? If you need anything, call me. I’m just a phone call away, baby.”

“I know,” Joe said, kissing your neck.

“Baby,” you giggled, “you gotta go.”

“Okay, okay. Didn’t realize I marked you up that much. My bad, babe,” Joe said, lightly tracing the purple marks from him on your neck.

“It’s okay, I’m used to it by now,” you smiled, secretly liking it that Joe always marked you up. It felt protective like he needed other people to know that you're already spoken for. “I love you so much, Joe. No matter what happens tomorrow, I’m proud of you.”

“I love you, Y/n,” Joe said, wrapping you into a warm hug, “Call me when you land, okay?”

“I will,” you said as you pulled him in for one last kiss before he drove off to the stadium.

The next day - Arrowhead Stadium

As you sat in the stands with Joe’s parents, you started to grow more and more anxious as you waited for the game to start; especially after what Joe was going through last night.

Flashback to last night - Kansas City, Missouri

Joe: Baby, are you busy?

You: No, of course not. Are you okay?

Joe: I need you right now.

You: Okay, I'm here, Joey. Do you want to call or meet me somewhere?

You frowned as you saw that Joe left you on delivered for five minutes. He was usually a fast-responder, so you thought about calling him to check on him. Just when your finger was going to hit his contact name, there was a knock at your hotel door. You opened the door, revealing your fiance with red and puffy eyes. “Hey baby,” Joe sniffed but tried to smile.

“Aww, come here,” you whispered as you pulled him in for a hug after he closed the door. He immediately melted into your touch, his face burying into your neck as his sobs filled the room. “Shhh, I’m here. I’m always here, let it out,” you whispered into his ear, while you rubbed his back.

“I’m so scared, baby,” Joe sniffled, his arms holding you so tight like you were gonna disappear if he didn't.

“I’m here, you’re safe with me,” you soothed.

A few minutes later, Joe’s crying slowed down. “You wanna sit down?” you asked before he nodded. You led him over to your bed, and he pulled you into his lap once you two sat down.

“Just being here… it’s got me freaking out. I just need you.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” you asked with soft eyes.

“Same stuff we talked about at home, there’s nothing else you could say to make me feel better than you already have. Can you just hold me?” Joe sniffled

“Of course,” you sadly smiled, laying down and pulling him onto your chest. As his crying picked up again, you had to fight your own tears, hating that he felt like this and there was nothing you could do to help.

End of flashback

Little did you know, just being there for him made all the difference. Joe woke up in his hotel room ready for the game, feeling confident in himself and his team. When you saw him before the game, it was like total whiplash but you were happy to see him ready for the game.

Your entire mood flipped once the game started. The entire team’s demeanor had flipped from what it was a week ago. A team that once played unsure and scared was now a major threat to the Super Bowl champs; even if it was a close game.

The 4th quarter had you fiddling with your engagement ring and chewing your nails out of nerves. Even though the Bengals were still winning, the Chiefs only needed one field goal to win. Tensions rose even more when Joe had to pull Ja’marr away from the ref.

You grabbed Robin’s hand as you saw the Chiefs kicker walk onto the field. You covered your eyes as he kicked. You heard Chiefs fans around you go wild, knowing what had just happened. When you opened your eyes, you saw Joe slamming his helmet on the ground knowing how frustrated he had to be.

——

The three of you met him down at the locker room. Your heart dropped when you saw the look on his face. He looked so upset. Usually after hard losses, Joe wouldn't hug anyone for long, including you; and that was no different today. He hugged his parents both at once before locking eyes with you. “Be safe on your way home. I love you,” Joe kissed your forehead before bringing you in for a brief hug.

“Yeah, this one definitely hurt him…” you thought to yourself.

Later that night - Cincinnati, Ohio

Your plane landed a lot earlier than Joe’s did, allowing you time to clean the messy house. You were also trying to mentally prepare yourself for him to shut you out like he usually did after a hard loss. You understood that he needed time to process his emotions by himself, but it always hurt you that he dealt with it by himself first.

You were putting some dishes in the cabinet from the dishwasher when you heard Joe come into the house from the garage. You turned your neck to give him a soft smile, fully expecting him to go up into his office for a couple of hours. Instead, he dropped his bags on the floor and rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. “I’m sorry I was an ass earlier,” Joe whispered, “Have you eaten anything?”

“You weren't an ass, you were frustrated… and that’s okay. And yeah, I ate at the stadium earlier,” you replied, “Have you?”

“No, but I’m not that hungry. Can we just go to bed?” Joe asked, his large hands rubbing your back.

“Mhm,” you softly smiled, leading him up to your shared bedroom, watching him strip out of his clothes once you two got up there. You picked out a matching set of satin pajamas and crawled into bed, Joe immediately cuddling up to you.

A few minutes of silence went by before Joe spoke up. “I’m sorry you went so far for a total shit show,” he mumbled.

“It wasn't a shit show,” you soothed, running your hands through his frosted tips, “Some terrible calls, but all of you played your heart out on that field. I know that you're frustrated, though and I’m sorry.”

“I just… cannot take it anymore, Y/n,” Joe sighed, “All of these reporters I think are trying to deconstruct my soul. All they want to do is make money off of my awful playing. I’m trying so hard, and all anyone is saying is that I should be doing more. You’re the only one that I can tell this to… but I think I’m just too soft for all of it. I’m just a guy wanting to play football. I understand it’s their job to talk about me as much as it’s my job to win a game, but I’m just so tired of it.”

“You’re the only one who doesn't want more from me. All you’ve ever wanted from me was just… sweet nothings,” Joe smiled. Even if the world was ending, or if everyone was busy with something else, all he needed was you. You were his home, you were his peace, you were his heart. Even in the awful football world where everyone was pushing and shoving, he had you to keep him grounded; and that was perfect for him.

You felt Joe’s body slightly relax after he told you how he felt. “You already go above and beyond for me,” you smiled, “Those reporters will see exactly who you are now, though. I think that game awoke something in you.”

“I’m sick of us being the underdogs. That all changes next week, that's a promise, sweetheart,” Joe smirked.

“You need to get something else off your chest?” you asked, “You still feel pretty tense.”

“No, I’ve got it all out. I do know one way I can get the rest of it out,” Joe smirked.

“How’s that?” you teased, playing innocent.

“Let me show you,” Joe whispered into your ear before he unbuttoned your pajama shirt, and kissed your body.

“Joe, don’t you think I should show you?” you asked

“Mm mm. You already do enough for me,” Joe smirked, taking one of your boobs into his mouth while he teased the other with his agile fingers.

——

Several moments later, after you and Joe both got each other off with your mouths, you found yourself below Joe, anticipating his thick cock to fill you up. “Please, baby,” you whined as he teased your entrance with his tip.

“Please what?” Joe smirked

“Please fuck me,” you breathlessly said

“Okay,” Joe smirked nonchalantly, pushing into you, making you gasp.

Joe set a relentless pace, you were moving up the bed more and more with each rough thrust. “God, baby, you feel so good,” Joe moaned before he leaned down and kissed you.

“Joe,” you moaned, “harder. Fuck me harder.”

“You. are. so. fucking. hot.” Joe said, punctuating each word with a thrust that was rougher than the last.

“Joey, right there,” you moaned as one particular thrust grazed your g-spot.

“So tight baby,” Joe whimpered, burying his head into your neck, as he, somehow, picked up the pace.

“Babe- I’m not gonna last long,” you whimpered, your nails scratching his back.

“That’s okay, just let yourself feel good,” Joe hissed.

A few thrusts later, you felt the rubber band in your belly begging to snap, “I’m- gonna cum Joe” you moaned.

“Cum on my cock, I wanna feel you,” Joe grunted.

“Joe!” you screamed as your high washed over you.

“Baby- I’m-” Joe said as his high washed over him, leaving him grunting and moaning into your ear.

After a few minutes of catching your breaths, Joe pulled out and pulled you into his chest. “I love you, Y/n”

“I love you more,” you smiled.

“That’s not fucking possible, but okay,” Joe chuckled, “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“I can't believe I’m marrying the love of my life in seven months,” you chuckled out of disbelief.

“I’ve been waiting for that moment since the first time I laid eyes on you,” Joe smiled. “Thank you for loving the parts of me that aren't easy to love,” he said with every drop of love in his eyes, “Like my smartass attitude and my nerves.”

“It’s a pleasure to love them,” you whispered before planting a kiss on his lips, “It’s a pleasure to get to love you.”

——

request:

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

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Thank you the anon who sent in this request, it was such fun to write this!

L&DS Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

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[rosyandraw]

idk if this is redundant on your end but thoughts on Damen needing to talk during sex? in the books it isn’t even dirty talk it’s just endless want for Laurent and how long he’s been waiting for him and how different Laurent feels. Also in canon & in ur own writing

Definitely not redundant! You have just knocked on the Damen Character Study door in my head lmao but it's late and idk how much sense this will make so i'm sorry in advance.

Mini meta on Why Damen Likes to Talk During Sex in Canon

First and foremost words are hugely important to Damen, not just during sex but in general. It is part of the reason that Vere trips him up so badly, why he just doesn’t get it. Because Vere is a veil of word play and innuendo, it’s double speak and flowery bullshit and lies.

That’s not Damen. His word is his bond, it’s tied to his honour and they mean a great deal to him. He never says anything he doesn’t mean. Ever. If it’s coming out of his mouth he is saying that shit with his whole damn chest and doesn't give a fuck.

The few times he is forced to lie or to say something he doesn’t mean he says it as a strategy play but it barely makes it out of his mouth and he hates it.

For a long time by the time they get to Ravenel Damen has been playing a part. Living a half truth and not saying everything he means. Or wants to say.

Likewise, in Akielos, Damen keeps himself held back. We know this because in 3 books, despite being the darling crown prince and heroic military leader, he mentions 1 person by name that he is actually and genuinely close to. One. He’s never been in love with anyone before Laurent, he doesn’t get close, he doesn’t get particularly attached. If he did Jokaste would have been a Princess and not just his mistress.

It speaks of a whole heap of childhood trauma and issues, thanks in large part to his father and Kastor and this picture that is painted of strength in Akielos being The Most Important Thing. (And i have too many thoughts on said implied trauma to write it all out properly here because it's an essay unto itself.)

We also know that Damen does the talking thing with Jokaste too. So we know it's an indicator of intimacy in bed for him. He's certainly not doing it in Vask, for example. Because Damen values words so highly he does wear his heart on his sleeve, but he guards that heart close. Sharing his feelings becomes something then tied to both the value Damen places on words and the lack of emotional intimacy in his life. To Damen, opening up like that especially during sex, is an act of giving unto its self.

Damen is strong, yes. Crazy strong and the perfect warrior. But he also likes the wordy sad poems and has craved approval (and affection) from his father and Kastor seemingly most of his life. For example, Kastor stabbed him and made Damen believe with words that it was a good thing because it meant Kastor respected him enough to fight him like a man.

It’s the perfect anecdote to draw all of those ideas together. Damen being happy about being stabbed at 13 by his brother because Kastor said it was a good thing to be strong enough to fight properly and bear the consequences.

Words matter to Damen, he assumes they do to other people too. It's what nearly gets him killed.

It’s funny really, because Damen values words but he himself is a man of action and Laurent values action but is a man of words.

When it comes to sex we see them swap places from their usual dynamic and therein lies the intimacy.

Laurent acts and Damen talks. It’s a complete role reversal and it was always meant to be. Pacat has said, several times, that Laurent tops Damen with words all the time and it was a purposeful choice to have Laurent bottom because of this. So to follow that through to it's logical conclusion for the sex scenes to really hit we needed to see them swap places completely and Damen needed to talk.

Laurent is a mouthy little shit but when it comes to his important scenes (the building of their intimacy and their sex scenes) it's never his words that he's speaking loudest with. Like when he just hugged Damen after the meeting with Jokaste in KR or when he went to get ice for him in PG, it's an offering in place of words and Laurent does it frequently: letting his actions speak louder than any of his words because to Laurent words don't really matter, lies are too easy. He's been taken in by words before.

Damen gets to Laurent through his actions and it's Laurent's moments of honesty, of saying something unexpected, that make Damen really pay attention. This isn't to say that Laurent's actions don't get to him, they do of course, but only really when Damen comes to realise that's how Laurent is being honest. Likewise in reverse for Laurent.

It's the language the other understands that allows the distance to bridge, but the intimacy comes in the opposite every time.

So when they fall into bed Laurent instigates with action, all three times they are together. And Damen talks. Because it’s the thing that is important to them that they are willingly giving and sharing and that is what makes it intimate.  

Quite simply, Damen holds himself back emotionally so talking during sex like that is a way for Damen to let go and to let his partner know that's it not just sex. Laurent, in reverse, shows his want through the instigation and by the time it happens they both know what it means: Laurent never does that and Damen knows it. Laurent knows Damen says what he fucking means.

It's such an intimate sex scene because of that awareness.

In my writing I kind of try to take that and run with it. Damen says what he means and what he wants Laurent to hear, because words of affirmation are important to him personally so he makes sure to share that.

Plus, it’s just sexy, you know? Got to love a man who talks in bed, that sex rough voice when he’s so far gone you know what his saying is just the shit flying through his head?

Hot.

Loved this ask so much. I could literally write a thesis on Damen lmao

[madschiavelique]

Hello!

Sorry if you don't write for halsin, I didn't see bg3 characters on your list of who you write for on the pinned post. I was wondering if you could write a Halsin x fem reader where she is the leader of the tieflings at the Grove. They could be competitive or just learning how to work together for their people's interest. I think that could be a really interesting dynamic to explore. SFW or NSFW both sound good, so whatever inspires you.

Thank you so much!!

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ pairing : halsin x tiefling fem!reader

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ content warning : a bit of angst but mostly fluff (with some hurt/comfort), kagha being an absolute bitch, mentions of blood and wounds (healer gets hurt but don't worry halsin heals her), other than that lots of fluff, fem!reader, tiefling reader, no use of y/n

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ words : 8,8k

─ . 𝜗𝜚‧ author's note : okay so just to say i did not intend this to be as long and if it wasn't for me having life happening i would have made it longer by writing a smut, but hey if u guys want smut from this one i'd GLADLY write it. it took me time to write it also because i had another idea originally but it would have been way too long and have much less tension and would develop the reader too much rather than her connection to halsin SO YEA enjoy hihi

( proofread by the lovely @gracethyomen ☆)

Your people were watching you with concern as you walked down the slope towards the druids' quarters. The little ones had come to you in a panic while you were talking to Zevlor.

All you'd managed to decipher was ‘Arabella, druid, snake’, and you were on your way to sort things out.

You and your group of tieflings had been living in the grove for barely a week. At first the druids welcomed you with open arms, Nettie even allowed you access to the basements and other caverns of the place.

It was an ideal place for tieflings. Although the majority of the grove was outside where you could spend time close to nature, much of the area was sheltered by the shade of the rocks. Your race had become accustomed to living in underground spaces, so what better place to stay than here.

What's more, there were enough cellars and basements to house everyone. Plus, you didn't just stand there and do nothing, you took part in the life of the grove. Whether it was Mattis and his rings to sell or Dammon and his weapons, you were helping out with the trade, and you'd ordered that you and your people should take part in the life of the grove so that everyone didn't look like a green plant in the background.

However, the druids had become bitter of late, and the hospitality you so cherished seemed to be fading as tensions rose. On the one hand, the druids were casting evil glances at the tieflings, claiming that the latter were destroying the larders by their mere presence and that they were an evil people ready to destroy the peace of nature for whatever reason linked to their nature.

On the other hand, the tieflings were defending themselves as best they could by providing manpower for the security of the grove, not lowering the prices of their trade under any circumstances, and getting angry at the treatment they were receiving.

And out of those sides, in the centre, only two people managed to calm the situation: you and Halsin.

You didn't see much of him, as he seemed more preoccupied these days with the problems affecting the area around the little haven of peace, so he was frequently absent. But it had already been more than two days since Halsin had disappeared, and the conflicts in the grove were escalating.

Locke and Komira came towards you as you approached, the tiefling woman suffocating between tears and panic:

“It's Arabella, they took her and they won't let me see her,” she managed to say.

You put your hand on her shoulder to reassure her, ‘I know, I'll take care of it, okay?’

You walked down the few steps towards the fountain where a meditation session was taking place around an idol. Suspicions of a ritual aimed at closing the grove to the world ran from one mouth to the next, a further sign of the descent into ostracism of the latter. Angry druids acted as smugglers, dictating who or what could pass through.

“Stop right here, step back and join the other tieflings”, Jeorna said mechanically, arms folded defensively.

“Let me through, you and I both know I can solve this without any blood baths.” You weren't necessarily strong, nor did you have an innate talent for fighting, but if there was one thing you knew how to do it was to be eloquent, enough you hoped to allow all these worries to be sorted out.

Jeorna pouted, chewing the inside of her cheek as she gave you a simple nod towards the druids' stone door.

“Thank you,” you thanked hastily as you hurried towards it. 

You felt the heavy gaze of all the druids on your back, the weight of your responsibility and your difference in this environment becoming almost suffocating.

You walked past the wall, down the small staircase to the druidic quarters. Kagha was there, next to Arabella, who looked simply terrified. Your eyes fell on the rock beside the girl, the glint of the druidess's vicious pet snake ready to attack at any moment.

“What's going on?” you asked as you approached. 

All eyes turned to you, Arabella's filled with hope while Kagha's face contorted as if a pestilential smell had suddenly taken over the place.

“What are you doing here?” she stormed.

“And what are you doing here ?” you asked back, maintaining a firm tone.

“One of your kind has tried stealing the idol of Silvanus, a punishment is required for such an act.”

“So you'd be ready to threaten a child's life for a... piece of rock?” you asked, confused.

Kagha parted her lips, preparing to reply something, but the very simplicity of your sentence seemed to bring her back down to earth. This little affront, though, which in her eyes seemed designed to belittle Kagha's credulity in the eyes of the druids, made her boil internally.

“I maintain, a punishment will result for her.” she grimaced, her face bitter and twisted with anger.

“If anyone is going to be punished, it certainly won't be a child.” Your eyes lowered to Arabella, her eyes full of tears, “Let me receive what she must receive.”

The other druids took offence in murmurs, a cloud of low whispers encircling you all as you kept your eyes on Kagha.

“Nonsense,” she laughed, a touch of panic and surprise taking over her tone, “she's the criminal in this instance.”

“Since when do we judge children as criminals in this way?” You raised an eyebrow, shrugging your shoulders in incomprehension. “Kagha, this goes against every principle of your order.”

“Don't talk to me about principles, you vermin.’

Any diplomacy you might have shown was slowly fading as Kagha showed her true colours.

“Kagha,” Rath said as if he'd just been punched in the stomach by hearing her speak like that, “stop this nonsense.”

You took a step towards her, then a second, approaching her slowly and never taking your eyes off her. Some people see the underworld in the horns and tails of the tiefling, but your gaze burned with the fires of the Nine Hells.

“And what are you going to do, hm?” you asked as your face came so close to her you could feel her quick breath against your cheeks, “trap me in vines ? get your little pet to bite me wherever you please ?”

“Don't give me ideas,” she added in an evil, mocking tone, “my judgement will be-”

“What is going on?”

All eyes turned towards the entrance to the room, except yours, which remained riveted on Kagha. You hadn't seen much of him, but you knew his voice well enough to recognise him: Halsin.

Kagha took a step away, quickly whispering to her snake to come back to her before saluting, full of surprise: 

“Halsin, you're back.”

Arabella ran towards you, gripping your thigh tightly with her little arms as you felt the fabric of your trousers dampen with her tears.

You tilted your head to the side, still watching Kagha. You had this deep longing, this need for her to remember your gaze, to remember for all the days to come of her eternal life that she would know the anger you bore for all your kind nestled just in your eyes.

Halsin came down the steps, his two arms tensed by the two huge baskets he was carrying. He came towards you, his eyebrows furrowing as he watched Arabella's back twitch. You put your hand on her hair, stroking it gently as she turned her head and her teary eyes met Halsin's. 

He turned to Kagha, who still looked as surprised as ever.

“What is the meaning of this ?” he asked, confused.

Kagha fixed her gaze on yours, expecting you to reveal everything in your embittered state. You stared at her for a long time, then turned to Arabella, exhaling in relief.

“Nothing,” you managed to say calmly, “Arabella just got lost and was scared by the wolves.”

The druids' animals were a perfect excuse for the moment, and Kagha was looking at you with huge eyes. You weren't trying to fuel the fire of hatred, you were trying to calm it down and eventually extinguish it so that you could live together in peace. Throwing her to Halsin’s wrath wouldn’t help either of your peoples. 

Halsin smiled, his eternal gentleness spreading across his face as he knelt beside Arabella. She sniffed, clutching tightly at the fabric of your trousers.

“I can see how they might frighten you, but they've got a good heart,” he said.

He lowered his hand to one of the baskets, taking a handful of wild strawberries that he'd gone to pick along with some other medicinal herbs. He took a small brown cloth bag and poured the red fruits into it. 

“Here,” he said, handing the small bag to Arabella.

She took it in her hand, smiling at him as she sniffed from the tears.

“She should thank you,” said Kagha.

Her venom clearly knew no bounds, and the acrimony you felt towards her was not about to subside.

“She's had a great scare, I'm not going to ask her to be polite,” asserted Halsin.

“Come on sweetheart,” you said, taking Arabella's free hand, “let's get you back to your parents, okay?”

She nodded, squeezing your hand as you headed for the exit. You gave Kagha one last dark look, her eyebrows furrowing as she bit the inside of her mouth.

You took the little girl back to her parents, who took her in their arms. They dried her tears and asked if she was all right, if anyone had hurt her.

“This needs to stop,” said one of the tiefling, “we can't live in fear of what they'll do to us all the time.”

And he was right, you had to find a way to keep your people safe. When evening came, you went up to the telescope that Nadira was occupying, assuring her that she could go to sleep.

You needed a break from all the pressure. You were trying to prevent a conflict breaking out between two completely different peoples who had to live together. The prejudices of your race didn't leave you with an easy task, and this supposed ritual that the druids had started...

You watched the stars, hoping they would give you advice and answers to your questions.

“Beautiful, isn't it ?”

You almost jumped as you turned your head towards Halsin, who came to sit across from you on the cut log.

“Nature has always brought beauty everywhere, in the skies, on the grounds, even in people,” he smiled, resting his forearms on his knees.

You sighed, watching the skies. “If only all people had the beauty you speak of within them.”

"It's a part of nature to be as deadly as it is beautiful.” he said, shrugging as his eyes drifted to the sky in turn. “Plants will make their poisons, predators will make their prey, roses will make their thorns. It's a part of it, just like within each and everyone of us lives a part of light and a part of darkness. We're made in nature's image, after all.”

You leaned back on the rock against which you were sitting, looking at him. He was so serene, so gentle. It seemed impossible at the time to consider that he had any darkness in him.

“What can a rose do against a sheep and its hunger?” you asked, curious.

He laughed softly, his eyes landing on yours as he faced you. “I guess she can't do much, she can try her best with her claws but... nature is as beautiful as it is cruel.”

There was a melancholy in his sentence, hidden behind the softness of his smile.

“Has nature disappeared in the Shadowlands?”

His smile slowly faded, his honey-coloured eyes illuminated by the moon watching you.

“It has not disappeared,” he said, “it has... shifted, been turned into something dark, something undead that defies the laws of nature itself.”

You nodded, your tail coming to rest on your lap.

“Maybe the shadowlands is the only place where the rose can sting the sheep,” you said, gently brushing away the dust that had settled on your skin.

You could feel him looking at you, and you didn't know whether you wanted him to go on forever, or for your eyes to meet his and for him to look away.

“Is that why you're so absent from the grove?” you asked as you finally found the strength to look up and meet his eyes again. “To search for a way to cleanse the land?”

He nodded, smiling gently. “Indeed. The shadows of the past haunt me, they have been doing so for the last hundred years.”

You sometimes forgot how wise he was, how many lives he'd lived, how many lovers he must've had… You find yourself thinking about the question for a moment. His kindness was unparalleled, his generosity and selflessness boundless, and to top it all off: By the Nine Hells, he was handsome.

You wondered if he had a partner, if he had vowed never to love again after his one and only love, or if he wasn't interested.

You straightened up, kneeling before him as he looked at you with surprised eyes.

“Halsin,” you began as you looked into his eyes. “I know that you try to do good in every place that has suffered, it is a noble goal I can't deny it.” You sighed, the despair of the last few days weighing on your shoulders as you loosened them. “But you have to understand that I am starting to be the only one trying to keep the grove at peace.”

His lips parted. You stood up, wiping the dirt from your knees.

“And the grove is not part of the past,” you said to him as he stood, “it's now or never.”

You waved goodbye for the night, leaving to find your sleeping bag in the subterranean caverns while you hoped that your words would have brought him some clarity.

The next morning, ready to take part in the day's gatherings and help in the grove, you learned that Halsin had left earlier that morning, and that once again there had been no news from him.

Your hopes were gradually crumbling.

The rumour that a druidic ritual to close the grove off from the rest of the world had been set in motion under Kagha's orders was well-founded. You sighed, hoping that Halsin would return during the day and not be absent any longer.

Another member of the grove seemed to be missing. Old Auntie Ethel was nowhere to be seen near her stall of potions and other health elixirs. So it fell to you to supervise it during the day.

Night came, and just as you were about to go to bed, Arabella and the other children came running to you, screaming.

“Do you want to wake the whole place up?” you shouted in a whisper.

“You've got to come and see, quick!” urged Arabella as she pulled you along.

The children crept towards the fountain, and you followed them, wondering what they had been up to. You passed the stone wall, descending the steps to the druids' quarters.

“Are you insane? Do you want to get yourself killed coming here?” you scolded them in silence.

“We've found something you really must see!”

They took you to the centre of the room and made you wait there, passing behind some vines to open what you recognised as a chest in the half-light.

They came back to you with a letter in their hands, holding it out to you insistently. You took the letter in your hands, and what you read in it made your blood run cold.

Shadow druids. Kagha had allied herself with them.

“What are you doing here?!” 

Kagha's furious voice echoed around the room, the little ones next to you flinching.

"Go back to bed,” you said firmly to the children as your eyes locked on Kagha's. 

“But-”

“No buts, you're going back. Now.”

The kids didn't wait a second longer, running for the stairs.

“You're not going anywhere,” Kagha shouted as she came towards them, but you blocked her path.

“So you’ve chosen the Shadow Druids,” you said bitterly, pointing to the letter.

Kagha's face broke, realisation washing over her face with a meagre transition to raw anger.

“You'll never understand anything,” she spat.

You frowned, a flash of destructive malice shining in her eyes.

“Always getting in the way where nobody wants you,” she said, looking at you with disgust and contempt, starting to circle you like a wolf around its next meal, like a predator around its prey, like a sheep around its rose. “You think you have every right here. You and your kind think that you can steal anything you can get your hands on, destroy the order of the grove, intrude on the tranquillity it offers, and you think you'll never have to pay anything in return.”

She chuckled, watching your gaze darken. “You'll never be welcomed, and I'll see to it personally.”

Kagha drew her scimitars, and you braced yourself for whatever injury it might cause.

It was an unfair fight, you had no weapon, no spell, nothing to protect yourself with. All you could hope to do was dodge. She sliced an arc through the air towards you, and you stepped back. She made another strike that split the air, but still couldn't reach you. You were agile, and that worked in your favour.

You ran the length of the room, jumping and trotting to avoid her attacks, but you didn't have time to read the labels on all the potions on display, or the contents of the parchments lying here and there, which could have been of great help to you.

Kagha got fed up with chasing you soon enough, and her voice boomed through the room when she said: “Flagellum!”

A bramble whip wrapped itself around one of your ankles, knocking you off your feet and taking your breath away as you hit the ground. The thorns of the whip dug deep into your leg, and you could already feel the blood spreading under the fabric of your trousers.

You tried to get to your feet but Kagha punched you in the face and cut your lip, rolling you onto your back as she knelt on your arms to stop you doing anything.

“Did you honestly think everything was going to work out?” she said through clenched teeth as she pressed the tip of her scimitar into your arm, “That everything would work out perfectly and we'd find a balance?”

The blade of her sword dug in past the fabric of your shirt, the pain slow and making you grunt. “Never, never would both sides have emerged victorious,” she growled as she withdrew the blade from the flesh of your arm, coming to place it under your throat.

You held your breath, were you going to die like this?

“The shadows were always the answer.”

And as you tried as best you could to shake off the thorns tugging at your leg or to lift your arm out of her grip, you felt the metal covered in your own blood pressing against your neck.

“Kagha!”

Halsin's voice echoed around the room, Kagha turning and letting her attention wander enough to loosen her hold on you. You kicked at the ground to push yourself away from her, the brambles wrapped around your leg making you grunt as you managed to put some distance between you and her.

She sat up, panicking. Halsin was with Rath, the children must have alerted him and found Halsin on the path.

“Halsin, I can explain-” Kagha stammered.

“Your fate will be decided tomorrow. You let yourself be devoured by power, and for that you will be judged,” Halsin said, trying to restrain his anger. “Rath, take her to one of the cells.”

His eyes fell on you on the floor, bloodied, his fist clenching until his knuckles were white.

“I'll look after her,” he said, walking slowly towards you.

You tried to calm your breathing, to take your mind off the fact that you'd just had a brush with death and it had left its scarlet signature on your throat.

He knelt down beside you, examining your leg, surrounded by brambles. He brushed away the thorns and the vine, letting his hand fly over it, but leaving open wounds all the same.

You watched him as he examined you, and noticed that he too was injured. Blood was beading from his forehead and his salient arms were covered in scratches. 

His eyes came back to you, and he brought his hand to your chin. Your body instinctively recoiled, and his eyes softened. Tenderly, he ran his fingers over the drying blood on your throat, his eyes drifting to the arm you were holding, which was staining your hand red.

He sighed, and the muscle in his jaw tensed, your cheeks warming at the sight. He turned towards you again, wrapping one arm under your knees while the other encircled your back.

“Hold on to me,” he indicated as your able-bodied arm came around his neck.

He lifted you as if you weighed absolutely nothing, pressing your body against his and making sure he didn't hurt you.

He began to walk, taking you towards what appeared to be his own quarters.

“What happened?” he asked softly.

You pressed your head against his chest, sighing as you gradually came down from all that emotion.

“The children brought me back here to read a letter. Kagha has joined forces with the Shadow Druids, and she intends to perform The Rite of Thorns and cut the grove off from the rest of the world.”

“The Rite of Thorns?” repeated Halsin, not quite believing it.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sighing, a nervous chuckle running up your throat, “she doesn't fancy us.”

He walked through the doorway into his room, which was deeply filled with plants, bags of herbs and a bookcase full of nature reading. He set you down on his bed, which was absolutely huge. It was strange that an elf should grow so tall, and the bed reminded you of that. You looked round the four corners of his room, filled with plants climbing the walls and unvarnished wood.

Halsin didn't ask you any questions at the time, suspecting that your mind was wandering between what had just happened and the present moment. However, as he closed the door to his room to avoid any further worries, he couldn't help asking you a question: “You seem surprised,” he asked as he turned to his shelves to prepare his remedies. “Why?”

His question snapped you out of your reverie, and you turned to face him. His back was facing you, and your thoughts took a different turn for a moment. Enough, however, for your cheeks to heat up.

“It's just... I thought you were so connected to nature that you would just sleep outside on the grass.”

He chuckled softly, turning to the table that was to serve as his desk as well as his workbench.

“Most of the time that's the case, but you have to admit that the comfort of a bed is sometimes more pleasant than the rock, or a rod that ploughs your back.”

“Don't you sleep in bear form, though ?” you asked, trying to adjust your posture so as not to let drops of blood fall onto his sheets.

“I do, but I can't stay in its shape forever.” he stated, pressing herbs, fats and other ingredients into a mortar. “Going back to instincts at all times can do no good to us all.”

You hummed, nodding in agreement.

Your eyes fell on your ripped sleeve, the light glinting off your open wound as it drifted down your leg. The fabric of your trousers was speckled with black spots, the blood taking precedence over its original colour.

You wanted to apologise, for the blood, for your presence here, for the trouble your people had caused. But could you blame your people for simply living? Sure, children pilfered, and the history attributed to your race didn't help prejudice, but to the point of closing down an entire place simply by your presence? No, you couldn't apologise.

Not when you were helping them, not when you were doing your best to contribute to the serenity of the grove.

Not when that crazy Kagha had almost taken your life on the sole pretext of your appearance.

“Why did you leave ?” The question escaped your lips, a little more shakily than you had hoped from the tightness in your throat.

Halsin turned to you, frowning. 

“Last night, were my words flat of meaning?” you could feel an intense knot in your throat.

He came towards you slowly, bowl and leaves placed on the ground as he knelt in front of you. Even so, he reached your sitting height. His lips were parted, his gaze soft and attentive.

Your heart broke, and your voice cracked as the beast of sadness clawed at your eyes and throat.

“You left me, after I told you I needed help,” you cried, hot tears of anger and exhaustion running down your cheeks.

“I-” began Halsin.

“You left me.” you repeated, your lips and chin quivering as you saw the reflection of your demonic eyes in Halsin's. You lowered your head, closing your eyes as you brought the back of your good hand to cover them.

All of a sudden, everything fell apart. The quarrels you had to watch over every day, the hard work you put in to make yourself look right, your escape from death tonight and the constant insults and hatred took their toll on your strength and made you break down.

Your face twisted with fatigue, tears trickling down your nose to your chin. You twitched, you were so tired.

Then, like someone covering you with a warm blanket, Halsin came and took you in his arms. He wasn't afraid of your dark eyes, or of being pierced by your horns in his arms, or of your claws that could be used as a weapon. His arms wrapped around you, and you felt so small and safe in them.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly as one of his hands caressed your back.

You began to sob again, your hands coming to rest on his broad back and holding him close to you as if this candour were going to vanish at any moment. You didn't know that you needed this embrace. To be held, to be comforted, to be safe in his arms. He didn't say anything, just stroked your back and hair gently, letting your tears and emotions flow into the silence.

When it seemed that you had no more tears to shed, and that you had calmed down, you remained like that against him.

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled against his shoulder. “for the blood, and for screaming at you and... for the trouble of my people.”

Halsin pulled away from you, and you regretted his action. Part of you wished you'd stayed there, in his arms, talking softly with an open heart.

The thought that your reaction would have been different if it hadn't been him who had embraced you came to mind, and your still swollen eyes met his, full of tenderness and understanding. He took your face in his hands, and your head seemed very small at that moment.

“This is far from being your fault, little bird,” he assured you, his thumb brushing away the remnants of tears on your cheeks. “I left you alone in the face of the fiercest of enemies: ignorance.”

“Yes, but I could have probably done better, at keeping the peace of the Grove in one piece.”

“Look where this led you,” he said softly as he eyed your leg, your arm, and your cut lip for longer than the previous two before coming back to your eyes. “You'll never stop compromising your own well being to help others, will you ?”

“I guess that makes something we have in common.” You smiled, and it was contagious enough for Halsin to mirror you.

“I cannot deny it, but I cannot deny the fact that you having been hurt because of my mistakes and blindness fills me with intense dread and guilt.” One of his hands ran along your shoulder until it came to the cut of your arm, his fingers pinching the fabric as his second hand came to hold your arm. ”May I ?”

You nodded, and Halsin waited no longer before tearing off your sleeve with total ease and setting the fabric aside. He stepped back slightly, placing both hands just above your knee, his gaze on you as he waited for you to confirm. You nodded once more, and the fabric, stronger than your shirt, tore like the transparent film covering the egg yolks. 

Your leg and arm were burning, tolerable of course, but that didn't stop it from being extremely unpleasant. He took a basin, placing both your feet in it, and conjured up water which ran down your legs and cleaned your wounds.

Halsin watched the wounds, muttering under his breath words that you didn't fully understand. The only thing you could translate from him at the moment was his frustration.

“It's going to be a bit cold,” he warned, almost in a whisper.

He took the green goo he'd concocted, spreading it with his fingers over your wounds as you shuddered and breathed in through your teeth.

“Why not simply use a healing spell?” you asked as he placed a leaf on the poultice.

“Kagha fights with poison, her scimitars can be coated with it by occasions, and I don't doubt that her link to the Shadow Druids might have altered her magic to the point where these thorns could be poisoned as well.” He turned to the next wound on your leg, “And I prefer to use real remedies if that's the case.”

You watched him at work, carefully applying the mixture and then pressing a leaf onto it.

“Are your wounds related to the reason you left today?” you asked.

His eyes drifted to the scratches on his arms, as if he'd forgotten about them.

“Yes, it so happens that one of the druids came to warn me in the morning of a problem not far from the forest. I suppose you see who Madame Ethel is?”

“I replaced her today at her stall,” you replied.

“We went to her house, it seemst that the Sunlit Wetlands have been profoundly changed by an evil that Ethel spread. She was a hag.”

You frowned. “Was?” the past tense made you doubt things had gone as planned.

“I went there on my own and as I entered the swamps I realised that something was wrong. It was when I got to Ethel's cottage that I realised her true identity, leading me to tracking her down deep underground to get to the bottom of it. She poisoned this land, I couldn't let her get away with destroying nature forever. I ended her henchmen and took care of her right after. A hag knows how to defend herself, she left me with a few meagre memories that will be gone soon enough but she was a tough opponent.”

Halsin had been out all day, investigating and risking his life to flush out a Hag who was deceiving the people in the grove into thinking she could help them. Who knows the next person she would have picked out and brought back to her cursed shack?

You also knew that Halsin preferred to avoid bloodshed as much as possible, and that he had spent a whole day killing creatures in the marshes. The guilt was creeping up your cheeks and up the back of your neck.

“And I screamed at you for doing something right, by the hells I'm so stupid,” you sighed as you brought your hand to your forehead.

Halsin smiled, regaining your eyes as he finished with your leg. “You had your reasons to be angry. I don't blame you, I don't know how I would have reacted either if I were in your situation.” He straightened up, dipping his fingers into the cup again before gently spreading the contents over your wound. “I never thought you had so much to endure by yourself. Between us both, I am the one that should be sorry.”

You said nothing, simply watching him at work. Once the last leaf was in place, he looked at your split lip, and your cheeks heated up like the inferno.

Halsin hooked your chin, his thumb pressing just below your lip as he watched the cut with a look you couldn't quite make out. Your cheek had swollen slightly, Kagha hadn't gone easy on you.

“Punch?” he asked simply, without taking his eyes off your lips.

“Mhm,” you simply hummed, hoping with all your heart that Halsin wouldn't feel your frantic heartbeat on your lip.

His thumb flew over the skin of your lip without ever touching it, murmuring: “Te curo.”

Your lip sealed, painlessly, with the electric sensation of magic emanating from his fingers.

He moved away, preparing to clean his utensils, but you stopped him. “May I?” you asked, pointing to his wounds. You wanted to help him in return, to do something, anything.

“It's just a few scratches,” he reassured you, “I can take care of those myself.”

“You took care of me,” you said as you tenderly took the bowl from between his hands, “Let me look after you.” He sighed, knowing you wouldn't flinch. He sat down properly in front of you, almost between your legs, placing his hands on the sheets not far from your hips, ready.

Just as he had done before, you said the incantation: “Aqua Pura.”

The water ran down his arms, cleaning his wounds until it ran up his temple to clear the cracked blood on his forehead.

“I didn't know you practised spells,” he said, surprised, “How did you learn?”

You dipped your fingers into the generous remains of the mixture, straightening up to gently apply it to his wounds.

“We were travelling during a summer so hot it felt like the underworld had swallowed us up again,” you began. “Hunger was an agony and madness we could endure, but the lack of water was starting to genuinely affect us. Luckily, some druids took us in for a few days in their temple. While some druids-to-be were training to learn spells, I was allowed to learn some of them alongside them. Nothing really extraordinary, just some healing spells, but above all a spell that would prove indispensable if the thirst returned: the creation of water.” You placed a few leaves delicately on his wounds, feeling his attentive gaze on your face.

“I told myself that, by coming here, I would find the precious help that had been given to me and my people,” you moved on to his second arm, “but I don't know if I was right.”

You felt an electrifying warmth settle on your thigh, Halsin's hand having rested tenderly in compassion on it.

“I'm terribly sorry that my absence and ignorance led you to doubt the help you were entitled to receive. I promise you that I will do everything in my power to put an end to this nonsense.”

You gave him a tender smile. You trusted him, after all he had just saved your life. You tilted your head to one side, your fingers tucking behind his pointed ear a stray lock of hair that must have fallen out of his bun during a day full of fighting. You applied the last of the poultice to his wound.

“I'm grateful that you came tonight,” you said. You cupped his face, looking into his eyes before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Thank you.”

Halsin seemed surprised by the touch, but smiled softly, straightening up and turning to face a wooden chest of drawers. He pulled out a shirt and trousers which, from what you could imagine just by looking at them in the half-light, would be far too big for you.

“You can take my quarters for the night-” He paused for a moment, watching your arm, and clutched the clothes in his hand. “Would you... need help putting these on ?”

Despite Halsin's care and attention to help with your injuries, your arm and leg were still hurting intensely. You couldn't find words that wouldn't make you sound desperate, so you simply nodded, your heart racing again.

He came to kneel beside you once more.

“Can you stand up for me?”

You tried to stand up, pushing on your good leg to keep yourself upright. You almost lost your balance, but Halsin took hold of your waist to keep you in place. Keeping his eyes on you, he took one of your hands and placed it on his shoulder.

“Hold on to me,” he offered.

He brought his two giant hands to your belt buckle, loosening it and unbuttoning your trousers, sliding them gently down your legs, taking care not to move the poultices. His fingers brushed against your skin, under which little fireworks sparkled.

Once the trousers were off, he took the ones he'd pulled out for you in his hands, a sort of sirwal pants that was loose-fitting and wouldn't touch your wounds too closely. 

The fabric was thin, and his warm hands running up your legs sent shivers down your spine. You hoped he wouldn't notice them, that the half-light and the cold on your bare skin would be enough of an alibi. You wrapped your tail around your leg so that it didn't stick out too far from your pants.

He tied the lace of the latter around your waist, not tightening it too much. Then he raised his eyes to yours, his hands still on your hips, gently pulling you back onto the bed to sit up.

“May I?” he asked again.

And again you nodded.

His hands moved up from your hips to your waist, gripping the sides of your shirt and helping to pull you out of the fabric. The cool night air spread over your back, but its freshness couldn't quell the fire in the back of your neck as Halsin's eyes bore down on you.

There was a moment of hesitation, of expectation almost. Waiting for a gesture, a sound, a look that would mean yes.

But Halsin inhaled deeply, taking the shirt between his fingers, rolling up the sleeves so that you could slip it on without worry. The shirt seemed as long as a dress, reaching halfway up your thighs.

He pulled the covers over his bed, opening them so that you could slide under them.

“Get some sleep, if you have a problem, I won't be far,” he said as he tucked you in properly.

“Okay,” you assured him.

He looked at you for a moment, his hand coming to brush a strand from your face.

“Sleep well,” he said before standing up.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

And he left.

Your lungs let out a breath they'd been unconsciously holding. You took the duvet and covered your head as if it could hide you and mute your heart.

Your duties as leader had, for most of your life by now, forced you to put aside advances or the idea of romance to keep your head on straight. But Halsin was getting in the way, shattering the wall of protection you'd built for yourself.

You could feel the fabric of his shirt on your body, a caramelised smell of wood, tall grass and warm stone permeating the fabric. His smell.

You surrendered yourself to its comfort.

It didn't take you long to fall asleep. The long day's work and your near-death experience had made you very tired.

It was the sun streaming through the windows that woke you up, its warm caress on your arm and face providing a pleasant morning kiss. You had no idea what time it was, you didn't know how long you'd been asleep, but it had been more than restorative.

Swapping the sensation of rocks and gravel scraping your back every night for sleeping on a straw mattress with a real bed worked wonders. What's more, your arm and leg weren't hurting so much any more. Halsin's poultices had sucked out all the poison they could, and the wounds had largely healed.

You tried to sit up, then to stand up. You took off the trousers, turning them the other way round and putting them on again to let your tail slip under the lace so that you didn't have to keep it wrapped around your leg.

There was still a little weakness and numbness in your leg, but fortunately it wasn't unpleasant enough to stop you from walking.

You rolled the fabric around your ankles to avoid tripping over the length of the pant legs, and walked out of the room. The place seemed deserted, so you set off back outside the Druid quarters to find your people. They must have been worried, and you feared that the absence of their leaders had led to a catastrophe while you were resting.

The druids' cave was empty too, which was most unusual.

You reached the stone door, passed through it and fell silent.

Around the fountain of Silvanus, the druids had gathered. The rite had stopped, much to your relief, but there was a real sense of tension.

Kagha was on trial before her entire circle.

You didn't move any further, not daring to violate this sacred and serious moment.

“Kagha,” Halsin spoke as he stood in the centre of the fountain, high up where the idol of Silvanus once stood. “During my absence, two papers representing evidence of your connection with the Shadow Druids were found. The first,” he pointed to the letter you had read the day before, “was found in your chest here in the Grove. And the second,” he held up a second letter for all to see, passing these two to the other Druids so they could all read them, “in the swamps.”

You crossed your arms, attentive.

“Yesterday, following rumours that proved to be true, I began a cleansing of the sickness that had taken over these lands. During this operation, however, on my way to one of our ancient sacred trees, I found this paper in a hole in a false bark.”

The druids' eyebrows furrowed one by one as they read and heard Halsin's arguments.

“The hatred and contempt of others for Kagha led her to join the Shadow Druids.”

There were shocked murmurs and surprised looks were directed at Kagha, who seemed to be dying of shame and guilt.

“These ideas and behaviours led her to want to perform The Rite of Thorns,” he turned to you, his gaze resting on yours, “and to come to violence.”

He called your name, and in an instant all eyes were on you. 

He came down the steps of the fountain, coming to you so that you could lean on him and walk to your people.

“Kagha even went so far as to attack the leader of the tieflings and deliberately wound her in an attempt to kill her.”

Shock was rising among the druids, and your people all came to you as soon as Halsin had brought you close enough to them, who were waiting on the steps leading to the fountain.

Halsin turned back to the druids.

“Many stories were relayed to me during the night by the Tiefling, accounts unworthy of the status of druid and protector of nature. Kagha was prepared to kill a simple, frightened child in need of help.”

Kagha looked down at her feet, her face contorted with guilt. 

“Every druids in our circle will exchange as to your fate, Kagha, for we cannot remain indifferent to your actions.”

Two druids came and grabbed Kagha's arms, leading her towards the stone door. The rest gathered round, chatting frantically amongst themselves.

The children hugged you, tears in their eyes as they asked you what had happened. The parents and the others were furious that this pest had had the audacity to touch you. Zevlor pushed them aside, insisting that you were hurt and needed some air after all that had happened.

“You scared the hells out of us, are you alright ?” he asked.

“Everything's fine, more fear than harm,” you reassured him. “I've spoken to Halsin, things are going to be alright.”

Halsin walked towards you, and Zevlor took the opportunity to move all the tiefling away so that he and you could have a private conversation.

“Slept well I presume?” he asked, a charming smile gracing his lips.

“Best sleep I've had in ages,” you confirmed, leaning against a wall to keep yourself upright and not put too much weight on your leg.

“How are you feeling?” he questioned, placing his palm on your forehead to see if you had a fever, then taking your arm in hand to roll up the sleeve and see the state of your wounds.

“Better than I expected. I don't know what would've happened if you hadn't shown up.”

“I'd rather not imagine,” he assured. “I spoke to Zevlor and the others last night to explain the situation, and their explanations were very surprising. I honestly had no idea what was going on here.”

“I think we came very close to a catastrophe,” you confirmed, your eyes riveted on his.

“Why did you lie,” he began, “when I came back and Arabella was crying?”

“I thought... blaming each other wasn't going to solve anything. I just hoped that Kagha would understand that she had made a mistake.” you say, your eyes drifting over the fountain which, until recently, was an object of constant torment. “Besides, I was alone in a whole room of druids who were supposed to obey her, I didn't know how things could develop with so much tension.”

“I understand why you did what you did, but I beg you: if ever in the future any incident of this kind should happen again, I ask you to come and see me and tell me about it. What do you say, little bird?”

The nickname for the second time made your heart leap into your chest.

“All right,” you assured him.

“Good,” he turned to the group of druids still chatting. “I must get back, but be assured we will have a long discussion necessary for the balance of the grove after this.”

“I'll wait patiently,” you smiled at him as he turned to leave.

The verdict came, and Kagha was exiled. Halsin came to find you, and a long conversation about recent events ensued.

At the end of it, he came to the conclusion that he had to ensure that his presence was  in the daily life of the grove until you could all leave peacefully.

You and Halsin looked after the harmony of the Grove between the druids and the tiefling, while you helped him with the purification of the land.

There were many things you and Halsin didn't say, glances that lingered, closeness that went beyond the merely professional, and a tension in the air that needed to be broken.

The goblin camp that had so far caused problems was deserted thanks to some travellers, and soon a party was organised for the tieflings' departure.

The evening before departure came, and the Bosquet fountain was decorated as if in a real fairytale. Garlands of magical fireflies hung in the air, butterflies fluttered everywhere, and the dishes scented the night air.

Alfira played her lute with other druids for music, Vollo told the children fantastic stories, and everyone danced and enjoyed themselves.

You were wearing a dress sewn by the druids in gratitude for peace, with a relaxed, elegant cut, made from their own fabrics and detailed with lace made from spider's webs. Your horns were adorned with jewels, your eyes highlighted with make-up and perfumed with delicate flower essences.

It was Halsin's turn to arrive at the fountain, wearing a superb suit in shades of brown and green that blended perfectly to underline his elegance.

He greeted a few people, his gaze roaming over the crowds before finally settling on you, his eyes roving up and down your silhouette in what seemed like a trance. You smiled, bringing the cup of your drink to your lips.

He moved towards you after greeting most of the people.

“I almost didn't recognise you,” he admitted, “I'm glad I haven't been drinking yet, if I had I would have choked uponseeing you, and I wouldn't have had all my wits about me to properly appreciate this rare opportunity to see you like this.”

Heat rose to your cheeks.

“I hope my glass will let me hear and understand all the lovely things you have to say to me.”

“Then I can start with the most serious part,” he smiled, facing you, “I wish to travel with you.”

It was you who nearly choked at the announcement, turning to him, confused.

“Travel with us?”

“Only if you agree to receive me,” he continued, not wishing to impose this idea in any way. “The Shadow Lands still haunt me and I know that you must inevitably pass through them to get to Baldur's Gate. I simply ask to travel with you, to give you my help if need be, and…” his hand along his thigh came gently to take yours, “to spend more time with you.”

Your heart was racing in your chest, and you grinned until your cheeks ached and you started to laugh.

Halsin looked deeply confused, had you had more than one drink already, or had he simply said something ridiculous ?

“What is it?” he asked, smiling.

“Nothing, it's just," you composed yourself, pressing his hand in yours, "I was wondering when you were going to ask me all that.”

His face relaxed, relief lowering his shoulders.

In the distance, Alfira and the orchestra were now playing softer music. 

He raised your clasped hands.

“Could I have the undying honour of dancing with you?” he asked.

“It would be my greatest pleasure,” you confirmed as you joined the group of dancers. You put your free hand on his shoulder, and his came to rest in the hollow of your waist.

“How long have you been thinking about asking me this, to travel with us ?” you questioned.

“Since the trial of Kagha, when things started to get better at the Grove,” he said, waltzing gently with you.

“And,” your smile widened, tilting your head back slightly, ’how long have you been thinking about wanting to spend more time with me?’

He couldn't help but smile back. ‘Since our discussion under the stars.

“About the sheep and the rose ?”

“Precisely the sheep and the rose,” he agreed. He moistened his lips, his eyes falling on yours. “And then the next night, after Kagha had wounded you.”

You remembered that night as if it had been etched in your memory forever. As well as the fear, the pain and the fatigue, you could never forget the feel of Halsin's hands on your body, or his smell, or his eyes on you.

“I have to admit I could barely refrain myself from keeping my touches polite,” he admitted, lowering his lips to your ear. "My hands were aching to linger on you."

“I wish you had never left them from me.” you confirmed in a whisper, his voice and breath on your neck making you shiver.

Halsin hummed, his chest vibrating against you. You were aware of how close you were, how the air you shared had thinned.

“Fortunately,” he murmured, his hand roaming over your back and bringing you a little closer to him, ”this is something I can remedy for both of us.”

Your breaths spread across your cheeks, your noses brushing.

“I want to have you by my side, in every land we roam, in every place we stay, under any sky that covers us.” he whispered as you felt the warm, tender skin of his lips graze yours. “I want you.”

Neither of you waited any longer to kiss, abandoning yourselves, to the feelings, to the envy, to the sweetness of the night.

Cheers of joy echoed around you, applause resounding throughout the grove. Halsin smiled against your lips, his hand cupping your face as he continued to kiss you.

Everyone celebrated your love, which had no intention of waning.

[inthemaelstrom]

So we're about six weeks out from another "most important election of my lifetime" and it's predictably making me literally sick to my stomach. When Trumpacabra got elected in 2016, I threw myself into politics in a way I never had in my lifetime and it almost wrecked me. I was one of those people who never voted for religious reasons (long, separate story) and I felt I had to make up for lost time. By the time 2020 rolled around, I was an unhealthy mess. I had stopped reading. Everything. When I wasn't watching MSNBC and political commentators obsessively, I started consuming absolute junk TV: home improvement shows, crack paranormal ghost hunter crap, etc. Things with no plot, no emotional investment, no danger. No fear.

Right before the 2020 election, old fanfic friends from my days in the Master and Apprentice Star Wars listserv found me and saved me.

They dragged me back into fandom, introduced me to Discord, and got me writing again. I updated a story I hadn't touched in 5 years. I made new friends online and in RL. I got some great fiction and fic recs from those friends and discovered a subgenre called Hopepunk—low stakes fiction with very little if any violence and fear and with happy endings. (Becky Chambers writes a lot of what I read, and Amy Crook has also become a favorite.)

One morning, I had one of those really vivid, realistic, linear plot dreams that literally dragged me out of bed to the keyboard. It was a meet-cute modern au of The Phantom Menace's characters, set in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I cranked out about 2000 words the first day. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. Then another 2000. And so on every damn day for the next four years until I had four novels, about 668k words, several timestamps written by three other collaborators who've come on board, some beautiful art I've been allowed to use, and now a fifth book in the works.

This is the Yooperverse.

It's not just The Fic That Saved Me, it's the place where I'm writing a vision of what the world could be like into being. A place where people with fucking obscene amounts of money don't spend it on themselves, or hoard it, or exploit other people to get more, but use it to help other people. It's a place where people who are bigoted dicks either get their comeuppance and crawl back under their rocks, or learn better and do better. It's a place where abused kids get rescued, everybody gets therapy and healthcare and is paid a living wage, people learn to value themselves and each other, and protect each other and defend each other. It's kinky and queer (although I'm neither) and above all, if not entirely safe to be both, I'm trying to write both things as just being another setting on the dryer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's not a utopia, by any means, because there are still assholes and the government is still ... the government, and capitalism is still a thing. There's some danger, especially in the first book, and there are accidents and illnesses and the vagaries of life. In the middle of the series, I had spinal surgery and was out of commission for a few months and that made me start thinking more about my main character dealing with aging and the limitations thereof. There's a LOT of mental health issues and the working through thereof, and a lot of ongoing process. Nobody's perfect. The world outside is still pretty much what it is. But in the little corners where my characters dwell, life is pretty dang good, sometimes great.

It's a vision of a life we all deserve. It's the thing I loved about Star Trek's universe, where people's basic needs are cared for and the obstacles to them developing their best selves removed. It's what I've loved about science fiction in general, especially Ursula LeGuin's: that opportunity to explore possibilities that are better than the present. It's modeled on the MacArthur Genius grants, but you don't have to prove your worthiness first. My main character invests in people's potential, young or old, with scholarships and grants and a steadying hand. His partner builds low or no-cost housing for people in need. There's an informal network of queer and straight kid rescuing going on under the noses of unfriendly governments and failed social service safety nets. The main characters build refuges, literal and emotional. They love each other fiercely and respectfully.

Right now, we're living in a country that is almost the antithesis of these ideas, for far too many of us. People are being manipulated by their fears, which are stoked by unscrupulous, lying shitbag politicians whose all too real evil would never make it past the pitch if you were going to try to sell it as a TV show or movie. They're consciously turning us on each other with lies about our common humanity, about the state of our country, about who and what's responsible for many of its faults, sewing suspicion and hate. And though the Yooperverse started as my personal comfort fic, I'm trying in my very small way to counteract what's happening in the world right now.

I've always believed in the power of story to change people's minds and lives, and I've experienced it myself. When I talk about story, I don't just mean fiction, though. I mean the narratives we tell ourselves and others about our own lives as a whole and day by day or moment by moment. I mean the stories we tell about each other when we're together, at the bar, at wakes, at a party. I mean the stories we invest in as fans in whatever kind of media we consume. I mean the stories we spin for ourselves and others to explain what the everloving fuck is wrong with the world.

Stories aren't separate from the world, they are the world. They tell it into being. They give it shape and purpose and meaning and a sense of possibility. Whatever stories we tell ourselves or each other about how things should be or how we should act as human beings (also called our "beliefs" or "morals" or "ethics"), they shape us, and we shape society. We are society, both together and as individuals. One person with a big voice and a story can tip a mass of people into either violence or solidarity.

I have no illusions that the Yooperverse will ever have that kind of power. It has a tiny audience on AO3 and Discord and it's mostly written for me to explore the things I feel deeply about, and wish I could do, and to teach myself to be a better person and live up to my own ideals. It's a world I'd like to manifest, to call into being, even in a small way. Even if it's just a story.

[chevvy-yates]

Sending out kudos to everyone who has shown their love towards Ryder for the past two years.

I love u all very much and every engagement, be it even just a like, means a lot to me.

I've intended to sorta make a cool post of some older vp of him as of today, September 17th, exactly 2 years ago I have created Ryder,— back then as a supposed supportive character for Vijay, very unsure if I would like him as Ry didn't visually turn out as I wanted him to be in the first place and he never went that way either afterwards — yet I find myself writing those lines instead.

I've accepted his look and his imperfection started to grow on me with each picture I took of him. Unlike my other ocs he went his own way leading me along to discover his personality. That's what makes him so different compared to my other blorbos and has me so attached to him.

I did not plan to make him a raver (he was supposed to become an 80s goth punk, a total different style than he's got now) neither that he would end up with a rogue AI controlling him. Only his name, basic info and the toxic family story was planned right from the beginning but that's pretty much it – Ryder showed me the rest of it.

Within the year 2023 I noticed more and more that Ryder has slowly but surly turned out to be my main character.

He turned out to be the most expressive and photogenic one of them all. I don't see him as the prettiest looking either yet he's my most precious and I love every pixel about him.

He's the one thing in my life I am actually truly 100% proud of.

Almost all my ocs exist because of him. They are his support characters. Without him half of them would not even exist. There would be no Thyjs. Even Garnet exists so Ry can live out his passion (that was not really put into the game but exists as lore: Technoise).

I am beyond happy to have created him.

He helps me in a lot of rather personal ways too I do not need to address here.

I got so much to tell about him (also about my other ocs) yet idk if I should continue or not as I find myself stuck with overthinking about it bc of lack of public response literally everywhere (this excludes private chat talks with close friends). Maybe Ryder's too intimidating (not the first time I would read that), his lore gets overlooked easily, or it's to much (confusing) text.

I cannot make anyone force-like him. Tastes are different. Minority is into others oc lore. Less time to read it all. The list is long. I'm aware of it all.

But I cannot underline it enough: do never hesitate to ask me questions about him. He's on my mind 24/7 and my biggest wish is to get this story out and done some day (whenever it will be) and receive some actual feedback on it what was liked.

Just a tiny detail is enough. <3

Another wish I have ever since I joined the CP77 fandom: that people would go back to comment each other more. We all do have little time for it, we all think "oh no so much text to read", we all are in our own bubbles rarley coming out to explore another bubble within this universe. It takes a lot of effort to do. people do seem scared on top to write anything at all for numerous reasons. I have all those problems as well. But I try to sit down and read the one or other lore chunk others wrote down and give a tiny comment as best as I can to make the creator have a smile on their lips. I truly wish we all would do this at least once a week to one person. once a month would be also fine. But if we don't this fandom will be dead soon enough and all thats left is just liking vp with characters on it we know almost nothing about. And maybe even those characters won't have lore anymore bc people stop creating it.

[vraisetzen]

Hello! May I request a short fic or hcs, not directly connected to your long fic, on obsessive/possesive, yandere stalker!au Kokushibo and female reader whose naturally charming & tends to flirt and tease anyone around her to no end😭 (can be both sfw and nsfw, since I don’t think Koku would appreciate his dearest giving away her attention to anyone but him~)

I tried to send a similar request before but it didn’t let me for some reason ;(

𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒐𝒌 — 𝑨 𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒆!𝑲𝒐𝒌𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒃𝒐 𝒙 𝑹𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝑰𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕

Author's Note: Thank you for the lovely ask! I actually received two requests for Yandere!Kokushibo; this is my first time writing a yandere fic, and I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it!

Tags: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Stalking, Obsession, Mentions of death and violence, Yandere!Kokushibo, No use of (Y/N).

Summary: The light in your eyes was both fire and ice to him.

No one could fault a man for being too good at his metier, and as a bodyguard to one of Japan's most prominent politicians, Kokushibo had spent years honing his craft — disposing unwanted rivals, eliminating bothersome targets, ensuring the safety of his charges.

His hands grazed along the small of your back, playing you as a harp while you sang his name in pleasure. You, pinned to the floor as Kokushibo plunged into your depths, relishing every pulsating heat that enveloped his length — you must know, by now, how he worshipped at the altar of your body, your very existence the only thing he ever desired.

"M-more, please," you wailed, looking back and regaling him with the sight of your parted lips and flushed cheeks. "I need more-"

And there it was: the glittering stars in your eyes, just like the very first time you caught Kokushibo's attention — a supernova in a sea of lesser constellations that seared forever into his memory.

The only problem was that the light of the stars graced everything in its vicinity without prejudice.

The curl of your lips that you gave easily to your colleagues as you asked them about their weekend; the radiating heat of your body when you sat next to them and leaned in every so slightly; the tendril of your hair around your finger as you listened to a neighbour's complaints with a soft pout; the perfume on your skin that lingered for hours in a room after you made your leave, capturing the attention of those caught in its haze.

He could not stand the fleeting moments when you cast your eyes on another; the biting, Siberian frost that sawed into his bones, casting a mantle over the lava that burnt and ripped away in his guts as he saw you flounce from friend to colleague to acquaintance, speaking to them with a tenderness that should never be heard by anyone by himself.

Fire and ice — the twin spears that plunged through his faculties of reason and instinct, tearing him apart at the seams even as he betrayed nothing on his steely surface.

Kokushibo was nothing if not methodical, and he needed no grand gestures, no dramatic declarations of affection: an orchestrated encounter at a cafe when you stumbled into him and spilt coffee all over his shirt, a rehearsed rendezvous at the laundromat where he had the perfect amount of spare change while you scraped along the bottom of your purse.

The draping of a cloak of chivalry around your shoulders, pulling the wool over your eyes in one fell sweep of his hand — the back of which noted every detail of routine — as you traipsed gaily over the daisies outside the lion's lair.

After all, to be blind meant devoting oneself utterly to the hand that guided it through the dark, and now that he had lent you an inch, you were more than willing to present him with a mile:

Your breathless moans as he pinched your pert nipples, your essence that lavished over his cock. You were resplendent as the beads of sweat that rolled down your shoulder caught the glare of the lamp, the curve of your back vulpine and graceful as you raised your hip to meet his thrusts.

Would you be blind too, to your diminishing satellite of admirers? Kokushibo cautioned you as much about their hidden intentions: Don't give your number away so easily; don't wear that dress; call me when you get home — he knew worst of the men who would mistake your smiles for affection, your teases for flirtations, and your touches an invitation in his line of work, and he need only to defer to his experise.

As a consummate professional, only he could protect you from these dangers that lie in wait. He could stopper it before they took you away from him, and you would never notice they were there.

The crimson that soaked Kokushibo's hands and crusted his nails, the same hands that now dug into the dimples on the side of your hips as he thrusted further inside your sex;

A flick of his wrist on your clit — the same rhythm as when he snapped the spine of the konbini cashier who you dared share your smile after you made your payment;

The tug of your hair around his fingers — reminiscent of the fibre wire that coiled around the neck of a older salaryman to whom you had been kind enough to offer your seat on the train;

The give of your thighs as he spread your legs further apart — a mirror of his hands on the back of a waiter who smiled as you complemented the tiramisu, his eyes lingering on your glossed, pillowy lips;

Would the wetness between your legs should be enough to wash off these stains?

"Kokushibo," you whimpered, in the moment he brushed against that spot inside you, making you squirm beneath his tight embrace. Your mouth dropped in a circle as he teased your clit once more, sending sparks of thrill dancing across your tense, quivering frame.

How perfectly he fitted inside you, the contours of your body moulding seamlessly against his hands — as if the gods themselves sculpted you for him to hold and possess.

Kokushibo slipped an arm across your front, tossing you to lie flat against the carpet. Red, crescent marks dotted across your collarbone, with others blooming into scarlet flowers where he had sunk his teeth into your softness — the sweet ambrosia of your arousal when drank from your sex, the tenderness your skin as it broke beneath his canines.

Come morning, when those blossoms have withered into violet bruises, you will never know another's man touch on you; Kokushibo will make sure of it himself. He would hide you away from the harshness of this world, and savour every inch of your body with his hands and mouth — as the French did with the caged ortolan, draping their heads with linen to shield their decadence from the judgment of God.

Why would you need to be anywhere else? Or seek the arms of another? He alone was perfect for you, as you were perfect from him.

Your ankles crossed behind his neck, unspoken bliss wild in your dark irises. The cadence of your moans soared as your nails clung to the broad sweep of his back, the pistol of your loins gaining an impatient edge.

"Don't stop," you cajoled, a whimper caught in a hiccup as Kokushibo felt you tense beneath him, your thighs trapping his face in a serpentine coil. The slick heat of your sex enveloped his cock tightly while you reached your climax to shuddering gasps, biting the back of your hand to hide your unrestrained moans.

And there it was once more: the sparkle in your eyes, brighter than before while you rode out your high. The heat of your gaze, together with clenching of your walls was enough for him to spill, too, in a mess of groans buried into your hair. You shivered at the dousing of his cum in your depths, your pleasures mired in a dripping, obscene mess that seeped from your entrance.

Behind closed lids, Kokushibo could behold the afterimages of your torched gaze, and he would do whatever it takes to keep them there, until it became a part of the inferno that raged unabated inside him, stoked by every single distraction you referred your attentions: friends, family, strangers — as he opened his eyes to look down at you, before kissing you.

He would have it — your heart, body, and soul — until nothing remained for anyone else, not even yourself.

"All mine," he whispered against your lips.

For my longer writings, visit my AO3 here.

[melkyt]

CW: Lawlu, Soulmates, Potential DofLaw mention

Soulmate au where the mark is ones destiny, ones fate & future

Luffy who refuses to read his, he doesnt want or needs to know his future, he will chose, even if that choice matches his mark when he finds out what it is, and wont care when and if it doesnt match then he doesn't care. Then it gets destroyed during one of the many battles off his life, covered with scar tissue, leaving the point moot

Law like in any soulmate fic i write for him, uses it as a lifeline, something to tell him that he does have a future, on those difficult days, he tries to believe there is something better for all of them

It reads 'Pirate God King' painted on top of sun, its vague enough that he is never sure who it could be.

Doflamingo, albeit self-proclaimed, matches all three words, especially after he takes the throne of Dressrosa.

With Law's fate until this point, maybe this is all he gets. He should forget about finding his soulmate. Perhaps that would be better, maybe he has been leaning on it too much, and should focus on taking down Doflamingo one way or another. It wont matter what he is to Law when the bastard is dead.

He has his crew, his friends and that is all he needs. Romantic Love is something he has lost enough times over the years, and a platonic soulmate barely crosses his mind, even if he would like that as much as a romantic partner

Then he meets Luffy and thinks for the first time in a long time start to make sense, a feeling that everything is right with the world, that whatever the universe, whatever fate has decided for him, is almost within reach, if he can just go a little longer.

Soon he will find the thing he was looking for in the darkest moments of his life. That the mark that sustains him, the sun that he would trace time and time again would reveal itself.

It's not so simple, maybe Luffy's mark remains unknown, or maybe those that knew Luffy as a child (Ace or Sabo) casually reveal that the mark he had matched Law's in one way or another, though it would be guess work on all their parts.

Luffy does not even mention which scar had covered it so Law can use his power to find out, as it goes under the skin, under the scar.

Luffy is determined to choose, but not until he is King of the Pirates, not until he achieves his dream.

Despite that, Law finds himself spending more and more time with the strawhats, finding little reasons to go in the same direction, and while they could go for months without seeing each other, once they meet again it is as if no time has passed whatsoever. It feels right.

[urfavsillydoll]

Please read this it’s important.⚠️

I almost lost all my money because I got scammed by someone. I already had problems with money but now it’s worse like so much worse.. Now I’m crying like a loser alone in my bedroom because I don’t know what to do.

I’m in a freaking mess rn. I even put my family in my mess…I’m so desperate and I don’t know what to do so here I am writing on tumblr, hoping someone could help me.. I have nothing to lose, I’m trying to seek help. be careful many people want to hurt you and doesn’t care about anyone but themselves.

If anyone could give a donation even a small one would already be very kind from you ..so that I can get back my money and help my parents too. It sounds like I’m a pick me but idc I’m just writing the truth and I need help.

It’s ok if you don’t want, thank you for reading this 🫶🏻

I love you all and hope everyone is having a wonderful day.

My PayPal is heidi.keitmann@gmail.com

Btw I’m sorry if I’m not really answering those days or if I’m answering very late, it’s cause of this reason I just written. I’m trying to deal with it.

Thank you again guys❤️

[not-poignant]

Hi Pia

I have 2 separate questions that are unrelated but share a subject matter.

Would a woman omega or trans man omega who was infertile/sterile be allowed at Hillview?

And 2) Have you thought or would you ever write an mm pairing where one of them was a trans man?

I'm trans masc and I find it so hard to find good trans fics that deal with trauma recovery or aren't just pwp. And I love your writing so much that if you ever decided to write a transman fic I'd literally cry from happiness.

So, I was going to write a big long world-building response to this but instead I'm gonna take it back to something personal - you're asking me to consider worldbuilding for and writing for stuff I feel pretty dysphoric over in my personal life. I go out of my way to really, really avoid writing heterosexuality of any kind for a start, so I don't want to think about all the fringe cases where I can make heterosexuality possible at Hillview or the sister site. That's just...icky to me.

As for trans folk, being that I'm also transmasc, I'm mostly team 'if you want to see it happen you can write it happening. I have zero problems with that. But there's stuff I'm not writing about either for reasons relating to dysphoria, or for reasons relating to 'this is not actually why I enjoy writing in the first place.' This is why I don't do self-inserts, for example. I don't like seeing myself in my own stories, I prefer seeing myself represented in other stories.

So -> If other folks want to write it, they can! If they want to solve those worldbuilding issues, they absolutely can! If they want to write fic about it, I'm gonna set off a confetti cannon for them in celebration.

In terms of worldbuilding, the answer would just always be: It depends. If you want to find the fringe cases then sure, there would always be exceptions! But if there was any chance of fertility/pregnancy with their companion, then no. So it would absolutely need to be not just a hormonal transition (a lot of things can impact consistent hormonal uptake and I think omegaverse hormones in the Underline universe would actually impact them a lot too), but one that covered bottom surgery as well.

Is that like, a problem in honouring someone's gender? Absolutely!! The Underline universe isn't perfect. But preventing pregnancy is their biggest concern at Hillview and the sister site. I know in regular/standard ORFs, they only care about the fertility issue, and care about literally nothing else, and yes, that can be a huge issue re: trans folk. This world is a dystopia, it doesn't pretend to be anything else.

The fun thing about fanfiction, is that other people can erase all of that with a sweep, come up with some magical contraception, and just make it happen. :D

As a transmasc person myself, I have stuff I just don't like writing. Just like everyone else does. You are absolutely welcome and completely have my blessing to imagine whatever you like for Underline, to write it in fic, to daydream about it, to bend and change the rules that already exist or to make up new ones that don't exist yet, that work for a world you want to read about.

But for me...it just comes too close to 'if I have to change or figure out these things I also have to think about how to set up 'woman omega and man alpha' heterosexuality and I just don't want to.'

I'm so sorry anon. I'm going to circle this one under competing needs. Sometimes the thing another person needs to find gender affirmation, is the thing that will harm another person's experience of their own gender, even if that gender shares the same general name, even if that changes down the track. (This is how we get some trans people who hate genderbending in fic and say it's dysphoric, and other trans people who love it and say it's affirming. It's true for both, neither should impose their views on the other).

The TL;DR being: I write what I want to be writing. If I'm not writing it, and have never written it, it's because I don't want to write it. In the matter of heterosexuality: zero interest, I'll leave that for other folks. In the matter of being trans, dealing with my own gender stuff irl is already a nightmare that I don't want to have to write out a version of that again in fiction, because I can't live it twice, and I don't like writing fluffy stories.

[timove]

Who was going to tell me that writing in a new location (my dorm) was going to make me write more than my average??

[reflectismo]

“I heard a lot of that stuff [‘I’ll Build a Stairway to Paradise’, Paul Whiteman Orchestra, ‘Chicago’] and I think that filled my computer with data. So that when I came to print out later, it was all in there. One of the great things about me and John was we both had that. We talked about some of the songs we liked, and he liked ‘Little White Lies’ … The night that you told me! Those little white lies! I knew that, so it gave us little bonds. That was his print-out. So when we came to write together we had similar print-outs, similar data from our upbringing. People tended to think of John as just a rebel or something; there was this whole other side to him that I liked, and that allowed me to get on better with him than if he’d just been a rebel.”

— Paul McCartney, interviewed in 2019.

[qcomicsy]

Lately I've only been wishing to grab a comic about my favorite character and just have a genuinely good time reading it.

[mercymaker]

goddd i still can't believe d&d pulled the most basic catty as fuck 'if two powerful women exist in a room together, they're gonna hate each other and be petty for no reason' shit and so SO many people ate that shit up and endlessly harassed one another for years