#as far as beds go I think that‚ regardless of what the 'norm' is in Dunland‚ Margim sleeps on the floor actually

[a-lonely-dunedain]

lowkey it kinda bothers me a little bit that we've literally never seen the inside of a Dunlanding house. The only interiors we got in Dunland were craft areas and meeting-halls, never seen inside of one home. I mean presumably it looks similar to the interiors we've already seen (round, built a little ways into the ground, probably has a firepit in the center, furnished with a lot of fur rugs, most likely a bit smaller), but like, what do their beds look like? do they have bedframes or are they just on the ground? what does the rest of their furniture look like? are there windows or all they all as dark as the other buildings we've seen in Dunland? is it sectioned off into rooms or is it one large circular chamber? what different kinds of decorations would be in there??? I need to know these things!

[backmuscles21]

The Big Visit

Tonowari X Reader x Ronal

Summary: Tonowari and Ronal go to visit their third mate, who is with the Omaticaya people. However, when they come down to visit they find out you're sick. Coincidently, this is the first time they will see your human body.

Finally, the sky people were gone and the Sullys went home, after thanking the leader of the Metkayina clan for their hospitality. You were sad to leave, you didn’t want to leave these two new souls you’ve bonded so well with. You ended up staying after Kiri had her seizure, you could use your avatar to help around the village and use your psychology PhD to help her. You started to steal glances at Ronal, she was the healer of the tribe and you admired that. Then you started seeing her with her mate, Tonowari, and he caught your eye just as much as she did. Their tattoos were so gorgeously splayed on their bodies and they both looked so strong. You couldn’t help yourself by stealing glances at both of them and eventually, they called you over and you were nervous, were they going to get very mad at you? So far it was just stolen glances, you didn’t think it was that bad, could this be a cultural thing that you couldn’t even look at a mate?

You went into their mauri and looked at them, you could feel how hard your heart was beating against your ribs. That’s when she kissed you, you were shocked at first, and your eyes were wide open. Then your brain caught up and you kissed back, it was heavenly.

That was how you started a relationship with the mated couple, you didn’t want to have to leave, and they didn’t want you to leave either. You had all grown accustomed to being with each other a lot, you didn’t want to be a part. You went up to hug Ronal and Tonowari before you left on your ikrans, and you squeezed them both tightly.

“Come visit sometime.”

“We shall, yawne,” Tonowari said as he kissed your forehead.

So, you left with the Sullys, you were going back to home base, the only refreshing thing was at least when you woke up in the link bed, you could see your body. You were nervous that if they ever came here, they’d see your human form and they may not like that. They knew you were a sky demon, but did they know you were still in and out of that body?

Regardless months passed and then Jake informed you that Tonowari and Ronal planned to visit. You were overjoyed, Jake told you that they’d be here within a couple of days and you couldn’t wait. However, in those couple of days, you got sick, you didn’t know what was happening but you felt awful. At that time, Tonowari and Ronal showed up, they went looking for Jake to announce their arrival and then to have him take them to you.

They went up to Jake and Neytiri, they said their hellos and got a tour around the place and that’s when they asked for you.

“Is she here?” Ronal asked first.

“She is. We can go see her now,” Jake said as he directed them towards the trailer.

That was the last place he knew you were and worst comes to worst, he’d ask Norm. They got to the trailer and Jake opened the airlock and they went inside, of course, it was slightly too short for the four of them. They walked past the scientists working away on their computers or in labs, Tonowari and Ronal shared a glance as they watched the humans.

They knew you were in a false body, but they never really put too much thought into it, they just didn’t want to believe someone they grew to love was a sky demon. They thought you’d greet them in your Na’vi body, this felt so different to see your human body.

Jake went up to Norm, asking him where you were currently at, “have you seen, y/n?”

“Uh, yeah, I think she’s in her bunk. Sleeping more than likely.”

“Thanks.”

“She got blood work done, so she might be quite tired.”

“Good to know.”

Tonowari and Ronal had no idea what those two said to each other, they didn’t know any English. However, they followed Jake as he told them to follow him, he also informed them that you were sleeping. When the three of them got to your bunk, you looked paler than usual.

“She has been sick for the past few days. Norm said she just had some blood tests to figure out what was wrong.”

“I can try and heal her,” Ronal said.

“I don’t know if that will work.”

“It is worth a shot if she is unwell,” Ronal sat down on her calves right next to your bed. Her hand brushed through your hair as you breathed calmly and deeply.

“You can try.”

“Then leave us,” Ronal asks.

Jake smiles at them and leaves, he knows that they are only trying to help, but he really believes that it won’t do much.

“Ronal, do you even know how to heal humans?” Tonowari asks as he places his hand on her shoulder.

“Should be similar to anyone else. Even if it helps a little.”

“What if it makes it worse?”

“The humans are taking too long. She had been sick for days apparently.”

Ronal rolled you softly to your back, she pulled the blanket off your body, and they both noted just how tiny you were. It felt like they towered over you, they were feet taller than you, just even the size of your torso was so teeny tiny.

You wore pajama pants and a long sleeve shirt as you were freezing, Ronal placed a hand on either shoulder and tried to connect with you. She knows she has connected with you, well your avatar, they both have. Being with you for months well the Sully sought refuge, of course, they were going to fall for you, and of course, you were going to get intimate.

She couldn’t feel the normal connection to the people she tried to heal, it had to be because you were human. She felt defeated, she couldn’t help the other love of her life, and she felt almost useless. She let go and moved away from you, Tonowari could see her face fall, he knew what had happened. He held his arms open to cradle her and console her, he knew that it hurt her to not be able to help you.

They both looked over at the door to the bunk when a knock rang out, Tonowari opened the door and it was the man from earlier, Norm. They were surprised to hear his practically perfect Na’vi language skills.

“We got the results back; I have medicine for her.”

“Very well then,” Ronal answered and let Norm in.

Ronal watched Norm very closely as he pulled up the sleeve of your shirt, she saw the white cotton ball taped to your inner arm. She was curious as to what that was, Norm then took the syringe he held in his hand, pulled the cap off and slid the needle into your skin. Ronal and Tonowari were confused as to what was happening and on top of that, he didn’t even wake you up.

“I’ll be back later with antibiotics. I’ll give that some time to settle in.”

“You did not wake her up?”

“She doesn’t like needles, I figured it best to do it that way. Plus, I know she wants to sleep. Although, you could wake her up now. She can’t nap forever.” Ronal nods as Norm walks off.

Ronal goes back to sit next to your bed again, she wanted to wake you up, she wanted to see your eyes. Jake had told them that you couldn’t wait till they showed up, so they felt bad that they were here for you and you were sleeping off some sickness.

Ronal slowly shook you, you stirred and your eyes still flickered, then they slowly opened. You blinked a few times, you stretched for a few seconds. You stared up at them and nuzzled into Ronal’s hand on your cheek, you smiled at them.

“I’ve been waiting for you two to show up.”

“How are you feeling?” Tonowari asked.

“Okay. I don’t really know what happened. I think I’m getting better. We just did some tests to try and figure out what is going on.”

“We have been informed.”

“I wanted to be up and around to show you around and take you for a ride.”

“That is okay, we are here for a while,” Ronal said.

“I just realized; this is the first time you've seen me outside the Na’vi body. Do I look okay? Despite how sick I look.”

“You will always be beautiful,” Tonowari said as he reached a hand down for you to hold.

You smiled brightly, you couldn’t wait to feel better and get out there with the two closest people to you.

I also have this posted on my Ao3 - Backmuscles

[kingsmoot]

Ok, so. It's interesting and really sad to me that Tyrion - a person who has suffered sexual abuse (w Tysha, that bit where Cersei hurt him as a baby, and probably many more lesser things) - has this more complex attitude towards Sansa than most of the creepy men in her life. In that aside from consistently trying not to marry her, he also acknowledges that she's a child, a little girl, not supposed to be in this situation (considering the world of Westeros, this is... almost entirely a conclusion he came to himself, as the only other character we see thinking of a teenager this way (iirc) is Ned. Most likely the average decent people are aware of how gross pedophilia is but. You get what I mean!) He doesn't show this same attitude towards Lancel which is it's own thing but also ties into his attitude towards himself.

He's aware that she's too young for this, but the fact that he started a sexual relationship at 13 himself (alongside he desperate need to be wanted and loved, but especially wanted) makes him still... try it with her when they get married.

And the line that really hits me is, "You're a child [...] but I want you. Does that scare you, Sansa?" Which, on so many levels:

a. Gross

b. It's partially because of how Westeros sexualises kids and teens (remember Arya? The nine year old?) that he's even aware of her sexuality. She's been advertised as a sexual object by the Lannisters all day.

c. Gross, and also Tyrion is immoral as hell

d. He's never been grey in this particular direction before and that's horrible to read! Until now it's mostly been him lashing out at people (he thinks are) prejudiced against him. ADWD is coming...

e. IDK if he'd still be this sort of - we'd call it a pervert but it's not perverse in the nobility of Westeros is the horrible thing - individual if he was in a less child-eating setting, (bc that's some heavy psychological theory there) but the idea that he would, he'd just never show it, is almost more hair-raising than the more visible sliminess...

completely agree wrt tyrion's understanding of sansa as a child being unique to him. cersei and tywin both say explicitly that because she's had her first moon's blood she is a woman grown and ready to be wedded and bedded. and in general, child brides abound in westeros. it is a cultural norm to marry off girl-children. tyrion is a singular and notable exception in saying that this is wrong and he wants no part in it. tywin even expresses annoyance when he first says this because sansa is meant to be his "reward" for a job well done on the blackwater because of how her status as heir to winterfell would bolster tyrion's own inheritance as a second son.

i actually think that tyrion not showing this attitude towards lancel is a reflection of how sex in general is framed in westeros (which isn't too different from how sex is framed in real life) where it is something that can only be good for men, never bad, and is expected to be bad, painful, uncomfortable, or unwanted for women but they should be doing it anyway. i think tyrion's acceptance of lancel being crushed between the cogs of lannister sibling machination is a combination of his own traumatic sexual experience in his youth, and the culturally held belief that regardless of cersei being twice lancel's age, she is the most beautiful women in the seven kingdoms, and even if she is going to bite his head off and eat it at the end of this, he should enjoy the experience.

i also think you pointing out the fact that average people are likely aware that pedophilia is bad is a very interesting part of the series in terms of how smallfolk view the intricate depravities of their nobility. there hasn't been a lot of smallfolk perspective so far in my reread (beside arya's adventures with hotpie and gendry which lend a really good perspective but not specifically on this) but i get the sense that they aren't keen on the child marriage and dynastic incest.

i think the thing to remember is that like, we as readers can be disgusted at tyrion climbing into bed naked with sansa and telling her he wants her, because we as readers have a better perspective on this situation and haven't been raised in westeros. that's a good thing! i think that scene is definitely supposed to make us feel ill. but the important thing is that tyrion chooses not to "exercise his rights as a husband" and rape sansa in their marital bed, which is unheard of in westeros.

even cat and ned, who are like in general the golden het standard of a perfect westerosi arranged marriage, even cat describes that she was terrified of her wedding night, that she "gave her maidenhead" to a dark sullen stranger and watched him ride off to war. like it is simply not done in westeros that you would spare your wife her expected marital rape. it is what she has been preparing for all day and it is what is expected of you, her lord husband. cat even watches roslyn cry all the way through her own wedding and thinks "well of course she would be inconsolable, she must be so scared of getting raped later" (with the understanding that the crime of rape does exist in westeros and can be charged for but the definition of rape does not include the sex forced onto women and girls in their wedding beds, so cat does not think of this as rape in her mind. but i do.)

so i think in this case tyrion is grey to readers because we have the understanding that it is wrong to rape a 13 year old girl and inherit her lands and get her pregnant so that they pass into your household lineage so that the lannisters hold the west, south, and the north. but by westerosi standards he's doing some sort of baelor the blessed schtick that everyone finds annoying.

[thinkingofausername]

Simon "Ghost" Riley - An Analysis

(aka hcs I've come across and loved as well as some of my own)

Author's note: This is just a self-indulgent speculation I wanted to get out of my system since I've been downright obsessed with this man and I really wanna make content about him. I've been trying to gather hcs that make most sense and are believable but we obviously may still disagree. Keep the pitchforks at bay :)

TW: domestic abuse, torture, SA, drinking, murder, drugs, mental health/illness, being buried alive, PTSD

Stretch marks. There's no way he wouldn't have them. Imagine kissing them 😥

He either looks like his mother and it hurts or he looks like his father and he hates it.

Touch starved and touch aversed at the same time. He craves gentleness, but he's never had it.

He would never be aggressive or abusive, in a relationship or in bed. The man had a traumatic childhood full of abuse and his new home would be peaceful and safe. Not to shame anyone but there's no way he would bring aggression or bondage or pain to sex after he's been tortured and raped

He wouldn't get drunk to the point of losing control or passing out. On a similar note I imagine being delirious from illness or blood loss would be terrifying for him. The vulnerability would mentally bring him back to a time when he was defenseless.

I love him with my whole heart and I know deep down he would be a protective and loyal and gentle lover but there would be hardships. He's hardly been loved or even perceived as a person and he would definitely struggle and run away and find himself lost.

Paranoia and overprotective tendencies bordering on control. I'm sorry but he literally had his whole family murdered - he will be on edge. He's also a lieutenant so being in control is the norm for him.

Hardcore anti-drug advocate. No one dear to him is going anywhere near drugs again.

Great listener and he remembers every damn detail. Very perceptive.

Silent gifts and favors as a way of apologizing. Mans would avoid talking about feelings for as long as he could.

Ghost and Simon are two different people. He has to separate work from home.

Quick cold shower guy. Terrible at self-care.

Probably pretty blemished skin. Not a shocker after wearing the same dirty cloth over your face for literal years.

God it would be divine pampering him. Massaging, washing, TLC all over the place. He literally wouldn't know what to do with himself. Stiff as a rock at first but he would be a puddle of bewilderment and worship and gratitude and pure love by the end.

I expect him to like bitter things and be bad at cooking since he's all rough and tough and he's only needed survival and the bare minimum for a long time but it's nice to imagine him unexpectedly having a sweet tooth or baking.

He'd spend a lot of his leave in the gym I wager. He probably can't be still and in silence for long before his thoughts start haunting him.

Definitely experiences sensory overload.

Social anxiety? I imagine he doesn't like crowds or attention thrown at him.

Claustrophobic. There's no way he's not after being buried alive.

Major trust issues. It would take a damn long while for anyone to get close to him.

I'd literally die to hear him laugh but I'm not sure what would it take to get him to do that. A huffing sound could be understood as a hidden snort and amusement but that's as far as it goes for a while.

He isolates a lot but I think it would do him good to have company and not sink into intrusive thoughts.

Obsessed with tasks and being busy.

On the field he's purposefully terrifying and brutal and feared but he'd never want to be feared by his partner. He'd want them to feel safe with him.

Price called him "son" once and he absolutely wanted to cry.

He'd have a hard time getting used to someone waiting for him at home. He always saw himself dying on the field.

His father scared him with animals but I really want to imagine him liking animals regardless. A dog would be loyal and silent and simple company.

He'd definitely prefer a partner who can defend themself or he'd teach them if they can't.

Crooked nose. He had to have been punched a lot in his life.

Chronic pain. His body's been through hell and he's covered in scars. Cold weather probably makes it worse.

Nightmares, obviously, we all agree on that. It just shows that he still cares and carries a lot of unresolved hurt and grief with him.

Vengeful as hell. Violence is the answer and it's in bold letters.

It's cute imagining him with kids but I think he'd have no idea what to do since he's never witnessed a normal and healthy child environment.

The biggest dilemma I've got is whether love would save or destroy him. He's been through a life of solitude and pain and it's amazing how many of us want to write him a happy end but the walls around him are sturdy and once they're broken and he basks in sunlight the person who's set him free could be taken from him like all others and then there would really be no way back.

[bahamutgames]

AFTERTHOUGHTS - ROUNDUP ROUND 8

October - November 2023

Hello again!! Soon December will be upon us (or maybe it already is by the time I finish this lol. We'll see) and before you know it, 2023 will already be over. Sheesh. But we still have a few days of November and some big things in December to go through so let's take it one step at a time, okay?

Had an interesting time during October as I was finishing some RPGs and fell into a bit of a funk / gamer block after some junk. But thankfully I managed to pull myself out of it and I'm happily chipping away at my next RPG as we speak! I ended up playing a good amount of shorter stuff these past 2 months, so let's go ahead and talk about some of it!

Per the norm, these aren't reviews. Just my thoughts I'm slapping up here. You should play everything I talk about regardless of what I say and form your own opinion. Cool, let's begin!

Pikuniku (January 24, 2019) - Xbox One

As I said earlier, I fell into a bit of depressed slump for a little. And I decided that replaying Pikuniku would fix me. I played this back around the time covid started, so it had been a long while since I played it. And, yeah, it's still REALLY good! Cute visuals, one of my favorite OSTs ever probably, super charming script and story. It's such a good time honestly even if can be a little rough at points. If you haven't played this game before, I've played it twice now and it 100% gets my seal of approval.

Hatsune Miku Project DIVA F 2nd (March 27, 2014) - Playstation Vita

But... Pikuniku, despite how much I adore it. Didn't fix me. No, sadly, I was still in a bit of a slump and not sure what to play next after being drained of my gamer energy. Then I dug through my games to fetch a console for my sister, and happened to accidentally find out my other sister owned a Miku game on vita. I had no idea we had this! And I've been getting more into vocaloid lately. So what the heck? Why not play it?

I used to hate rhythm games but lately I like them a lot more and, yeah, I had a great time with this! Staying up late in bed playing it late at night was a ton of fun. I discovered a lot of new vocaloid songs I hadn't heard before (off the top of my head I really liked Melt and the spooky themed one but I'll have to relisten to them all to say which were favorites). The game is super cute, I think it looks great, I LOVE that there's a lot of costumes for each of the 6 characters, I liked all the music, and honestly yeah this game really made me feel a lot better.

Only things I can say against it is that easy is WAY too easy, not even asking you to use most buttons of the system. While normal was just WAY too brutal, I couldn't even beat Melt on Normal. Maybe I just suck though. Also I think it can be a little difficult to figure out how to equip costumes but it's not that big of a deal. I like the magician miku outfit a lot, fun game :)

Paratopic (September 6, 2018) - Nintendo Switch

Hey! Here's a game you probably would NOT expect me to play because I avoid horror like the plague lmao. But my brother bought this a long while back, and I saw it sitting there unplayed. And it's like, less than an hour long. So I figured, what the heck? And gave it a shot (shoutouts to my siblings owning random games I guess lol).

Paratopic is interesting because it's meant to be played in one go, with no saving at any point. There's not really any losing either, so it's kind of like an interactive movie. It's told out of order and is also not super in your face about the plot which could be a drawback but it's very clearly the intention so I think it does it very well. Graphics were nice, story is odd and interesting, it's a very unnerving game. I couldn't even relisten to the OST while writing this cause I was too scared (still listening to miku). But again there's no major scares as far as I recall? It's similar to Fatum Batula in art, odd themes, and the fact that it's probably a good horror game for people who hate horror. Not my thing but happy I played through it!

SLUDGE LIFE : The BIG MUD Sessions (August 2, 2023) - PC

DID YOU KNOW I'M A SLUDGE LIFE FAN!? DID YOU KNOW THAT? DID YOU KNOW I 100% COMPLETED THE FIRST GAME THE DAY I STARTED IT AND I OWN A CIGGY TSHIRT CAUSE I LOVE IT SO MUCH!?

Well anyway, I do. And somehow I missed out on the fact that there was a Sludge Life 2 demo that was free to play and had its own plot! So, naturally, I had to sit down and play it! Not a lot to say because it is a small story, taking place only in one building rather than a big city. But I thought it was a great way to get back into the swing of things with Sludge Life, and I had a blast completing this bite sized story! I even completed the full Gato Mago demo present in the game lol. If you're not sure if you'd like the games, I might honestly recommend playing this to give it a shot since it's easy to complete but has everything present in the main 2 games.

Mario Kart 8 Deluxe Booster Course Pass (March 18, 2022) - Nintendo Switch

I talked about the end of the Booster Course Pass a little bit on twitter. But just in case you missed it, I wanted to talk about it here. It's finally done, and honestly I had a blast with it. While this DLC was kinda rough at first, being pricey for some admittedly low quality tracks (at least in terms of graphics) I really think by the end they pulled it together and made this a very worthwhile package with LOTS of new tracks and even new characters that they didn't have to do! I really appreciated it!

This final set of stages was nice, DK Mountain is a classic and it's great to have it back. Rosalina's Ice World was a pleasant surprise! Bowser's Castle 3 seemed like it was gonna be the most boring one but I LOVED it! And Rainbow Road Wii was such a nice send off! Great remake of a great track!

For new tracks, Piranha Plant Cove stood out to me the most. I adored it, as it was brand new to me since I don't play Tour (my younger sister does and she hates this track lmao). But I thought it was gorgeous, has a great aesthetic with the beach/jungle ruins at night, and has great music. It felt like something out of a JRPG which love, and the music particularly reminded me of Sea of Stars a bit!

New characters were great too! Overall while there's still some characters and tracks I wish returned (Wario Stadium, ROB, stuff like that) I do think overall this DLC made MK8DX such a complete package and was totally worth the price of entry I payed however long ago. They brought back some of my all time favorite MK stuff such as Choco Mountain and Petey Piranha.

And honestly, it's looking like MK8 might finally be done. We might actually be moving onto Mario Kart 9 soon which feels crazy to me. MK8 is finished, Tour is done getting new content. I really truly think the next MK thing we see will probably be 9. And I wanted that for YEARS! When they announced the booster pass it rubbed me the wrong was cause I just wanted 9 already. But now that it's here? I'm gonna miss 8 a LOT. It's my favorite one next to DS probably. And it's been the latest Mario Kart for SO long. I remember going to gamestop the day it launched on Wii U to pick it up in 2014 (THAT'S 9 YEARS AGO, BTW. 9 YEARS OF MK8). I've gone through major life changes during the course of MK8's existence. Graduation, learning to drive, moving out (multiple times), presenting in public for the first time. Mario Kart 8 has oddly been a consistent part of my life for a while now. And I'm honestly a little emotional to let it go.

However, I'm very excited to see what comes next from this series. I'm waiting with baited breath for 9, and I'm sure that regardless of what the next game is like, I'll probably love it. It's hard to say goodbye, but I do really love MK8 more the more I think about it and reflect on my time with it. Late night playing with my sister, playing online with friends, playing with randos, driving around the tracks slowly to see all the little details. Thanks for all the good times Mario Kart 8. I'll always be using tilt controls :')

Super Kiwi 64 (December 2, 2022) - PC

Wow that last one got a little emotional, huh? Let's move onto something I haven't spent a large formative part of my adulthood playing. Siactro is a small indie dev I have become fiercely loyal to, playing just about everything they put out since I first played the original Toree! So when I saw they were making a new 3D Collectathon, I was VERY excited!

And this game lived up! It's great! Some GORGEOUS worlds that look so breath taking with these N64 styled graphics. Some fantastic music to accompany you. It feels WONDERFUL to play, I genuinely am OBSESSED with Kiwi's moveset. Gliding, dashing, stabbing into walls to climb up them. It might make exploring a little easy but exploring is absolutely the focus more than platforming is. And I think these tools make that goal very easy and EXTREMELY fun. In fact, it's so good I'm actually sad it isn't longer. There's only 8 worlds and they're all 100% completed rather quickly. Which is fine, Siactro games tend to be short. But this one was just SO good, I wanted more! That's a positive though I promise!

My only real negatives are that the game doesn't explain the plot too well, you have to play Beeny to understand what's happening. Which is fine for me, but it's odd they did that. I also think it's odd that there's NO ENEMIES! I don't think I took a single hit of damage through the game. I think some cute (CUTE NOT HORRIFYING) enemies would really elevate the game and make it a little tougher. Likewise, I know there's only 5-6 main collectables in each world, but I do think some way to keep track of them would be huge. Even just a hint list so you know what you're looking for. Regardless, super fun game, another banger from Siactro and if you're looking for a shorter 3D collectathon, do give it a look!

He Fucked the Girl Out of Me (July 24, 2023) - PC

I'm not sure it's appropriate for me to discuss this in this format as this is a deeply personal game for the creator that tackles real life serious subjects about their past. However, it is still a game and it's a game that's VERY good and I think everyone should play!

He Fucked the Girl Out of Me is a visual novel about the creator's life as a transwoman, and their time as a sex worker. It's a very sad game but that's exactly how it should be and it does end well. But I think it's a really interesting game just by the nature of it being an autobiographical game. That's something I've been interested in for a while and this game does it very well. Really putting you into the head of the creator as they take you through the story.

The graphics are nice, looking like a gameboy title. The story is told very well and did honestly make me cry a bit (I'm particularly sensitive though I cry a lot aha). It's a short game but I would love to see more games that tell people's experiences like this, I think getting to play it can give you a look into their life that a book or movie just can't do the same way. I really loved the scenes where you could pick snacks and see her thoughts on them, and I thought the scene where you see what people message you in this line of work was very well done. There's isn't a ton to say about the gameplay side of things, but I think that's fine since again, it is autobiographical and it manages to tell that story very well through a more VN styled approach.

The game tackles topics about shame, and hiding your trauma due to fear of getting in trouble and the trauma that fear adds on top of the shame. It's a something I think a lot of people can relate to even if you don't go through something as traumatic as what the creator of the game went through. It's an important message and I'll absolutely be keeping an eye on this developer going forward. If you've got the time, give this game a shot.

SLUDGE LIFE 2 (June 27, 2023) - PC

And here we are, Sludge Life 2! As a huge fan of the first, I couldn't resist anymore. I'm a little late but I just HAD to play SL2!! This game picks up RIGHT where The Big Mud Sessions ends off. Big Mud has gone missing after recording, and it's up to Ghost to track him down! All while tagging, making some new friends, and taking pictures of stupid stuff along the way.

It's very similar to the first, but now with the added Ciggy City attached the main town from the first game so there's a LOT more to explore now! Just like the first one it's a ton of fun to run around and platform about while tagging stuff and making friends with random taggers. A lot of them are new this time but there's some familiar faces too. It's still a blast, there's still lots to do, I like that the plot covers some more serious topics, it's very funny, it has great music, I love the graphics. Overall it's a blast! There's a fully uncensored penis in it which is awesome! This is random but I think more games should be allowed to have full uncensored nudity without getting an AO rating.

However, I personally didn't prefer it over SL1 or the Big Mud Sessions. It is fun. But like, I think it wasn't as fun. And it felt like they were leading up to something a little cooler than how it plays out. The death mold felt like it should have been a big thing leading to a big finale. But it's just the bad ending and it's quick and not addressed much, which is how the bomb worked in the first game. But the bomb wasn't teased and didn't feel like it may have been a big deal if that makes sense? I thought Ciggy City could be a little annoying to navigate at times, I don't like Gato Mago as much as the game in the first, I feel like they didn't improve some issues such as it being REALLY hard to find tag spots when you're near 100, I couldn't figure out how to spit in that guy's food! It is still good and I had a great time playing through it, but it just didn't feel as amazing as I was hoping a sequel would feel.

Regardless, I still recommend this series, and I hope we get a Sludge Life 3 that can maybe make good on some of its plot teasing? I am interested to see how the Death Mold will tie into a potential 3rd game as well seeing more uprising against the corruption in the world and the clops. I also would like to see a boss fight, because I really thought the health bar in the trailer meant there was gonna be a boss fight. Doesn't need combat or anything, I think the moveset present in these games could already make for an interesting boss.

Hello My Name is (Val)iant Or Val's Guide To Having A Broken Vag (June 1, 2023) - PC

Another short visual novel about sex and body stuff! This was also a game I randomly discovered a few weeks ago and had a great time playing through it! This game is more lighthearted than He Fucked the Girl Out of Me, but is still a great time and still has important things to say. You play as Val, a transman who has lived with extreme vaginal pain their whole life. And you see the struggles that comes from doctor negligence and trying to find love with that problem.

This one has some more gameplay like scenes, mainly 2 minigames you play twice. But the way they're handled is VERY interesting! I won't spoil it but there's a Tetris minigame used for talking to doctors, and a Rhythm minigame used for having sex. And the way it contrasts the feelings between 2 different experiences in both situations using these minigames is REALLY well done.

It's not autobiographical I don't think, but is more autobiographical in the sense that it capture's the dev team's past issues with doctors ignoring you, medical racism, and the lack of help and care for people with vagina's comfort in sex and just in their bodies in general. I'm not kidding when I tell you this game taught me more about vaginas than my entire life of sex ed in school. Drop out and play video games, kids. You'll learn more.

Great graphics, great music. I know I shouldn't compare it to HFTGOOM so much but I liked both of these a lot! I would love to see more games about real topics that affect real people in the future, and especially ones that maybe tackle more genres than just Visual Novel (though I understand it is the best medium for this)

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 - Episode I (January 19, 2012) - PC

It's time... to talk about Sonic 4... I want to preface this by saying I LOVE SONIC, and I genuinely feel kinda bad whenever I trash on something Sonic related because the series gets so much undeserved hate. And I know I recently had some negative opinions on the Final Horizons DLC but oh my god... Sonic 4 made me appreciate that so much more. Guys, this game sucks. I'm not joking when I say this is probably the worst Sonic game I've ever played.

This game feels so absolutely soulless in a way no other Sonic game can even come close to imitating. It's trying so hard to be like a Classic Sonic game by copying its level themes, concepts, and music style. But it copies absolutely none of the charm in any way. The music just isn't very good (kind of a sin for a Sonic game?). The graphics are REALLY bad imo. It's trying to make all the 3D models look like 2D sprites but it fails MISERABLY. The effect only works on the final boss. I really can't explain it, you'll just have to see the final boss for yourself, it's clearly trying to look like a 2D sprite. The game plays like GARBAGE! Sonic is so slow, takes forever to reach any meaningful speed, and the homing attack doesn't work 99% of the time. It's truly baffling to me.

Speaking of the final boss, that sucks too. The bosses in this game are all rehashes of earlier bosses, but less fun! Big surprise! This game ends with the Death Egg Robot again but unlike the Generations fight with it which is cool. This fight is like, a massive slog that takes FOREVER to kill. I seriously think it may take like 10 minutes to get through if you do perfectly? And it certainly took me about an hour with all my deaths. And the story being like, just the Sonic 1 story is so boring, no one talks, the animations don't look that good. This game just SUCKS. And that's just the game, not even considering the fact it's uploaded to Steam with an error that makes it so you can't launch it without a fan made launcher!

I think what bothers me so much about this game is that people ALWAYS like to flame on the usual suspects when it comes to Sonic. 06, Shadow, stuff like that. But I will die on this hill, those games, while maybe not being GREAT and certainly lacking polish, are FUN and full of heart and soul. Why is this game NEVER brought up? It has barely any, if any, redeeming qualities. I know this was made for youtube reviewers who hated Sonic having friends and stories but I genuinely cannot believe that even they would enjoy just playing Sonic 1 but worse and shorter? Truly a game for no one. Let's move on.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 - Episode II (May 15, 2012) - PC

So right out of the gate, this game is SO much better than the first it's actually jarring. I still don't think it's great. But it's more just, eh, rather than being terrible like Episode I. For improvements, they drop the art style which is a big help. I feel like the music, while still trying to sound like Genesis music, actually works this time and sounds pleasant and fun. And while Sonic is still REALLY slow and the homing attack still doesn't really work, it just feels better to play. And the addition of new content instead of just rehashing old stuff is VERY welcome. Sonic 4 Episode 2 opens with a brand new, gorgeous castle stage. Has Tails who is used for team up moves, and features ACTUALLY NEW BOSSES! Wow!

Overall it is a massive improvement over the first. But it still has a lot of issues. For one, the levels are SO long. Like, they just do not end ever. And they do kind of start to copy other games in the second half . The Tornado level is a SLOG and just not fun. I hate the stupid half pipes (does anyone really like these?) And the bosses are even worse, they're not BAD but they're SO long and all end on this big hit you have to land that can be a chore to get right (the trash golem boss). And the final boss, while it is WAY cooler, lasts SO long!! You have to walk through a not super short level to get to it, watch a not short cutscene, then watch a cutscene after EVERY PHASE. Unskippable, do this upon EVERY DEATH. Not every Game Over, EVERY DEATH!

Whatever, again, it is a LOT better than the first. It's not offensively bad like that one was. But still, kind of an odd game. The boss themes are great though.

Sonic the Hedgehog 4 - Episode Metal (May 15, 2012) - PC

I probably don't have to discuss this as it's just Episode I backwards. But I do have to give some props to this one cause it is kinda neat. And probably the most interesting idea of Sonic 4. Letting you play as Metal is cool, I'm a sucker for stuff like this where you revisit worlds in a different context (you start at the final world and work your way back to the starting world.) It's neat! And even though it's pretty much identical to Sonic 4 Episode 1. It's way shorter, with no bosses. So it's more fun.

Overall I'm happy I tried Sonic 4. But these games just sucked man. If you wanna play one, just play Episode 2 don't even bother with Episode 1. I genuinely get a bit of happiness knowing there was never an Episode 3 I have to suffer through. 2D Sonic still has a place nowadays. But everything offered here is done better in LITERALLY EVERY OTHER ATTEMPT AT A NEW 2D SONIC!

Want classic gameplay with nice classic pixel art? Sonic Mania is there. Want classic gameplay with the modern designs? Sonic Advance Trilogy is better. Want 2D Sonic with homing attacks and boosting and stuff? Sonic Rush games are better. Oh but you can't play as Metal? YOU FOOL!! SONIC RIVALS 1&2 ARE BOTH BETTER AND ALSO HAVE SHADOW AND EVEN ROUGE IS IN THE SECOND ONE!

And when do these games take place? Is it trying to imply this ACTUALLY takes place between Sonic 3 and Adventure? Like is this supposed to be saying Metal is only in heroes BECAUSE of this game? That's nuts right? That sounds insane right?

Again, truly a game for no one. Go play Sonic Rivals.

Portal (October 10, 2007) - PC

Ah, Portal! You may be surprised to learn I've never beaten this game! And more surprised to learn I've NEVER beaten a Valve game prior to this! I started this game when I was young but got stuck during one of the puzzles (the only where you have to launch yourself across the barrier you can't shoot through?) and dropped it. But I own it again on steam and thought I should give it another go. And I'm glad I did!

This game was SUPER fun! It's short but every level is genuinely cool to try and figure out how to use the portals to their fullest. Which, in of itself, feels very impressive to me. I can't help but feel like programming and making those portals work must have been a NIGHTMARE! But it payed off because again, it's SUPER fun! GLaDOS is really funny during the whole thing, the credits song is of course fantastic, and the creepy parts where you see outside of the experiments were VERY scary and I had to mute the game during them cause they unnerved me so much lmao.

But without a doubt, the best part of this game was the final boss. I thought it was SUPER interesting trying to get the portals lined up to blast GLaDOS. And the context of the fight, with GLaDOS being obsessed with flooding the facility with toxic gas was very funny.

The only real drawback I can say the game has considering it's so short is that the final escape sequence is a little long. But GLaDOS taunting you during it and trying to sound like she's in control of the situation was fun and I did like the part where you have to fight a bunch of the turrets at once.

But yeah! Fun game! Glad I finally beat it! I still hold firm that Chell is the best choice for a Valve character in Smash Bros. cause I'd be SO interested in seeing them make the portals work in that game!

[brookemcddox]

edwarddmunson​:

Nobody could say Eddie hadn’t given the party a shot. He’d shown up late, as was the norm, he’d nodded along to the music, as if the selection hadn’t nearly caused his ears to bleed, he’d almost been thrown up on, and he’d had half a conversation with some people he barely recognised from school. It didn’t take long for the scene to become equal parts overwhelming and boring, so Eddie made his way outside, climbing onto the front fence and lighting up a cigarette. There were some other people scattered around the front yard, but he was the only one actually alone, which bothered him. Making friends had never come easy to him, and whilst he’d never conform or change who he was for someone else, he wished the path to something better wasn’t so lonely. Dragging on the cigarette, Eddie thought about the few people he knew from his district, ones who’d made it to Alexandria, wondering if he could forge a connection with any. Only one person really stood out to him, but she was so far out of his reach now, it was actually funny. Even thinking about it made him laugh. But his chuckle was cut short by the sound of yelling, Eddie alarmed to learn it had come from the exact person he’d been thinking about.

Discarding the cigarette, he quickly jumped back down, scanning the yard for her, wondering what had happened. Spying her coming up the path, he walked toward her, planning to intervene, when suddenly she turned back, and then proceeded to walk right into him. Eddie threw his hands in the air immediately, stepping backward, both apologetic and amused by her outburst. "Oh, I saw you.” He smiled, watching her for a moment. “Think it was me you didn’t see.” At her realisation, Eddie nodded, expression sheepish, assuming what she was likely thinking. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me, lurking in the shadows.” Crossing his arms, he tilted his head in interest, still watching her closely. “So. Who’s the asshole?”

“Well, I can barely see anything out here. It’s dark and you’re all blended in with your black clothes and your -- lurkiness.” Brooke raised her eyebrows, but her chest deflated in relief, grateful that she’d at least bumped into someone she recognised. She wasn’t keen on the idea of having to engage in yet another argument, and Eddie didn’t seem to be holding the collision against her. “That asshole would be Jake. I’m sure you remember him. Tall, handsome. A total jerk.” Brooke wiped at her eyes, suddenly embarrassed that Eddie had witnessed the entire outburst. It didn’t stop her candor, though, feeling a strong urge to confide in someone; regardless of who that person was. “As if he has any right to speak about my father. I am so done with him. Officially this time. I’m never going back there. Screw him.” 

Sighing, Brooke crossed her arms, trying to ignore the weakness of her legs, the slight nausea. She’d definitely overdone it on the vodka. It wouldn’t be long before the fatigue caught up to her, and she didn’t want to be around anyone from this party when it did. “I want to go home. I want my bed, and I want to forget about all of this.” It was also a sign to Eddie, to avoid mentioning it next time they crossed paths. “Thank you for listening to me rant. But I’m leaving, so -” Brooke aimed to walk off confidently, but was unaware of her own drunken clumsiness, and staggered on her heels. Thankfully she managed to steady herself by catching the fence, but her face reddened, feeling a twinge of pain in her ankle as she straightened up. “Ugh, god!” 

[silkscream]

PISTOLWHIP | ii. i hate what this song is about

synopsis: peter parker is in love with his high school best friend, michelle jones, and you are in love with peter’s roommate, harry osborn. when mj and harry start dating, you and peter test your limits in a situation that “benefits” the both of you. how far will the two of you go to satisfy each others’ loneliness?

inspired by the anime kuzu no honkai.

genres: university au, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, fake dating, unrequited love

warnings: explicit content (18+), smut, alcohol usage

wc: 6.5k

a/n: chapter two song reference is cologne by beabadoobee. this reminds me of chapter five of sweetest kill (iykyk) so i apologize in advance. i love you all

series m.list / main m.list / join the taglist

harry osborn [12:31 am]

hey where are u and peter? he said he was gonna come get u

harry osborn [12:45 am]

yo we just went to the velvet stout but text me when ur there so i can fetch my beloveds

harry osborn [1:24 am]

u guys here yet or did u get murdered??????

harry osborn [1:50 am]

helloooooooooo

harry osborn [2:12 am]

help i think peter’s phone is dead and i lost my keys lol

ESU (erotic sluts united) [2:30 am]

harry osborn: GUYSSSSS. IM LOCKED OUT

mjones [2:35 am]

hey dude are you with peter?

Peter Parker isn’t the kind of person who leaves after a hookup. Intrinsically he doesn’t have the pride that would make him want to leave – he’d simply be too tired to think about making an escape while the other person is sleeping. It’s not like he knows the proper etiquette of a hookup that well regardless. What was the reason for sacrificing sleep by leaving in the middle of the night, anyway? He can deal with awkward morning small talk, nor does he mind treating his hookup to breakfast. Peter Parker is not a coward.

And yet, you wake up with your arms grasping for a body that isn’t there. How strange it feels to be empty in your queen-size bed again after getting so used to having another warm body beside you.

Peter Parker is not an asshole because he leaves you a note. One that’s scribbled hastily on a post-it note that he found in your desk drawer that reads, GTG, HARRY’S LOCKED OUT. TEXT ME WHEN YOU’RE UP.

It feels so fucking nonchalant that you feel shame in actually wanting to follow through with his request. Is it even a request? Does he really want you to text him? Because “text me when you’re up” can often be an empty message that lets the other person know that they care the barest minimum out of politeness. You’ve known Peter for long enough to perhaps gauge what he might be like in an intimate context, but now that you’re on the other end of it, you have no fucking idea what the norm is. So you crumple up the note in your palm, toss it into your wastebasket, and you try to breathe as best you can.

I slept with Peter Parker last night.

You ruminate about this statement over toast and a homemade matcha latte. Remnants of the night come back to you like vignettes and scrapbook clippings. The blurred image of an elbow. The sight of this boy who’s your friend who happens to be very talented at suckling on the tender spot on the inside of your thigh, which you now see has resulted in a purplish mark in the shape of a heart. By the time lunch comes, you can’t get the image of Peter’s body out of your head.

From the amount you drank last night, you had woken up thinking today was a Sunday, a day when you usually recharge and deep clean your apartment because that’s what the Korean vloggers you like on YouTube tend to do, and you’re just trying to survive your 20s in the neatest way possible.

But no. It’s fucking Friday.

And it’s nearly twenty minutes until your first class.

“Fuck,” you groan.

You’re too tired to keep the tension in your jaw, so you slacken and lean back in the plastic chair you’re sitting in, pausing the music blasting in your headphones to reassess your senses. You hear the bustling noises of the cafe. Your laptop screen taunts you, its blue light burning into your retinas. All the ice has melted in your brown sugar espresso latte, but you decide it tastes better that way.

Pulling out your phone from your pocket, you read your messages from last night once again, chuckling at the thought of Harry sleeping in the hallway of his apartment all because Peter happened to be sleeping in your room. You wonder what time he’d left. You wonder why he hasn’t texted you at all today.

Your finger hovers over his contact. It feels tempting to text him but you force yourself to lock your phone, frustrated by your newfound anxiety. You put your headphones on again and turn your volume as loud as you can handle, and you stare at your email inbox instead.

The door of the cafe opens and you briefly catch sight of a certain head of brown curls. It’s like the universe’s indifference is set out to taunt you, because despite you trying to get your mind off of Peter Parker, he happens to be the exact person who saunters in to take the seat directly across from you.

“Hey.”

You pretend not to hear him, instead scribbling in your notebook with a pen that’s about to die. You watch as the ink bleeds and runs thin, alternating based on how hard you push on the paper, and the boy’s voice drones on in the background. He repeats himself multiple times and you hold in your laughter as you ignore him until he taps on your nose with the pad of his finger. You wince.

“Are you ignoring me on purpose? That’s so mean,” he grumbles, his lips pouting like a child’s. It’s so adorable, the look on his face, that you want to kiss the grimace off of him. There’s an ounce of annoyance when you realize your adoration. You convince yourself that it’s just part of his charm.

“Hi, Peter.”

“I’m sorry for leaving before you woke up. Did you get my note?” he asks, his eyes slightly wider than usual. You notice his fidgeting.

“Yeah, I did. And I’m not actually mad at you or anything, I’m just messing.” He seems to appear relieved when you give him a teasing smile.

“Thank God. Otherwise, it’d be a rude awakening to find a girl giving me the silent treatment because I’m bad at sex or something.”

The comment makes you blush, so you duck your head slightly so that your laptop screen is covering the majority of your face. When Peter realizes you’re flustered, a grin creeps into his face.

“Why? Has that happened?” You raise your eyebrows in a taunting manner.

He stumbles over his words with some kind of excuse, ultimately deflecting the question.

“No. I mean, I don’t know. But I feel bad for leaving. Harry wasn’t even locked out by the time I got home. He wasn’t even home. And he hasn’t responded to my texts which is a little fucking troubling.”

“He’s definitely alive,” you murmur, scrolling through your phone. “He sent a meme in the group chat like an hour ago.”

“Great. I wonder which NYU student he was able to hook up with last night.”

“Does it matter? Let me guess. Hot and blonde. My money’s on a model, too,” you scoff bitterly. You toy with the hem of your sleeve and Peter notices the shift in your mood. Furrowing his brows, he takes your hand in his, massaging your slender fingers with the pads of his own.

“Should we… talk about last night…?” the brunette trails off as you shake your head.

“What about last night?” You play dumb. You’re rather good at it as well considering how much you hate confrontation.

“I just – I don’t wanna make things weird between us.”

“It doesn’t have to be weird. You’re my friend, Peter. I don’t regret it because I’m really comfortable with you,” you murmur slowly, watching his hands at work instead of the fixed gaze on his face. “Unless… you…?”

“No, no. I’m not uncomfortable with anything that happened at all. It was um, really good, actually. Better than I expected. Not like that was something I was planning on for a while! Or like, I didn’t have any expectations because I don’t usually just think about my friends in that way. But I’m not saying I haven’t thought about you in–”

Your attention is completely thrown off when your phone buzzes. Peter stops his babbling, rubbing his red-tinted face.

Caleb sent you a message

Caleb: Still on for drinks? 5 pm?

“Oh shit, I have a fucking date,” you groan, hurrying to gather your belongings while Peter watches you in perplexity.

“You– you do?” he exasperates.

“Yes, in like an hour. God, I haven’t even showered and I look like hell. I’ll see you later, okay Pete?”

You leave the cafe in such haste that Peter’s convinced that you disappeared the way cartoon characters vanish in little tornados. He wonders why the pit of his stomach is so much more present, and why his mouth feels so uncomfortably dry. The taste of you is still on his tongue.

Despite moving to New York City for school, you aren’t sure if you just haven’t adapted to the ways of New York men, or if you just happen to pick up the biggest losers on the planet. Scarfing down mozzarella sticks at the bar seems grotesque from the way that your date eyes you, so you take meager bites like a Victorian woman, sipping your cocktail with gentle, superficial elegance. It’s fucking ironic how your date’s judging you silently when he’d picked out a dive bar that seemed to be exclusively reserved for people who looked like they were rushing for Greek life.

He sits across from you with a look of slight boredom on his face, which is ironic considering you hadn’t been able to get a word into the conversation for the past fifteen minutes. Since your appetizer came, you had managed to mindlessly pick at your food while his voice drones on. You’ve got no idea what he’s talking about, nor do you care, until he pauses completely.

“Sorry, zoned out just a bit. Been a long day,” you apologize, attempting a feeble smile. “What was that?”

“I’ve been getting into crypto recently.”

You’re fucking joking.

You want to look at the audience right in the camera like in Fleabag, but your gaze of disgust naturally falls on the man in front of you, quickly turning up the corners of your mouth in a mock smile so that he can feel more comfortable. You don’t love to be palatable for men, but it often feels easier this way so that you can give your polite goodbyes at the end of the night and promptly unmatch the bastard. By the time you do that, you’re usually sinking in your bathtub with a glass of red to wash away the day entirely. You down the rest of your gin and juice like it’s a magic potion that might promise your escape.

You listen to him spout on about the mundanities of bitcoin, negative commentary on Elon Musk that you find yourself agreeing with until he mentions the billionaire’s “innovative projects that will help mankind’s conception of transportation as we know it”, and now your foot is tapping impatiently to the tune of “Tom’s Diner” playing over the speakers.

“Women like you are so fascinating. I feel like I keep dating girls that are kind of… airheads, you know? Always trying to please people, but you… you’re not afraid to be a little offputting and abrasive. I think that’s really cool,” Caleb recites as if he’s monologuing about the date within the confines of his journal instead of having a conversation with you. You imagine that he fucking loves Bukowski. Not to mention, he splits the bill because he’s “pretty much a feminist.” You kind of want to die at the moment.

Eventually, you decline his offer to walk you home while the words offputting and abrasive echo through your mind. You go through hoops wondering about the semantic variations of the statement, suddenly subconscious about your resting bitch face. Ultimately, if the dude thinks you’re a cunt, you accept it. You’ve unmatched him before you’re able to open the door of your apartment anyway.

peter parker [7:02 pm]

hey

i know you’re on that date but i just realized i left my wallet in your room. mind if i get it when you’re free?

you [7:05 pm]

come on over parker

peter parker [7:10 pm]

damn, quick date

you [7:12 pm]

yeah, turns out he had like four sets of eyes and wanted to drink my blood. not really my type

peter parker [7:13 pm]

or maybe you weren’t HIS type

you [7:14 pm]

gee thanks

peter parker [7:15 pm]

no i mean like BLOOD type

you [7:15 pm]

*crickets*

peter parker [7:16 pm]

okay jeez tough crowd

im omw

You wonder briefly if he’s lying, making excuses just to come over and see you alone, but you do happen to see his battered leather wallet on the floor of your bedroom. It’s torn and skinny, decorated in children’s Spider-Man stickers, containing nothing more than eleven bucks, a debit card, and a Metro Card that looks like it’s gone through hell. When you pick it up, a polaroid falls out. You don’t recognize when the image was taken, but it’s a candid of you, Harry, MJ, and Ned laughing in Central Park at night. How awfully tender of Peter to keep it in his wallet. So tender it’s making your heart a little sick.

Before you know it, there’s a knock on your door. When you open it, you catch a whiff of cologne, which you raise your brows at, but Peter doesn’t catch your gesture. He merely lets himself in and takes off his shoes, suggesting he’s here to stay instead of just stopping by.

“Hey, rabbit,” he chirps.

“Hey,” you blink. “Why do you always call me that?”

“Because you’re timid,” he shrugs. “Remember when I first made you go out with everyone? It took you so long to open up.”

“I’m just introverted. And I’m not nearly as shy as I was before!”

“Yeah, now you’re a menace,” he rolls his eyes, grinning.

You don’t know why your blood seems to heat up like you’re entering a sauna. It hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and yet the mere presence of Peter Parker is something that you grow more attuned to, like you’re seeing him through a clearer set of glasses. You notice the veins on his hands and the freckles on his nose. He’s pretty. You almost tell him but you know that he’d never let you live it down.

You zone out with a glass of red wine in your hand, eyes fixed on your laptop screen but your mind going absolutely nowhere. Someone clears their throat in front of you. Your attention turns back to Peter, who takes a seat next to you on your kitchen island.

“We’re having a thing at ours tonight. You should come?”

“By ‘thing’, you mean getting wasted while Ned drunkenly tries to set up YouTube karaoke on the flatscreen?”

“Precisely,” Peter deadpans.

Awkward beat. Have you gotten worse at socializing with your best friend since you’d slept with him? A more glaring question: does Peter know you consider him your best friend?

“Who’s your best friend?”

“Ned,” he answers without a beat. You figured as such. “Why?”

“Are… are we best friends?” you ask curiously.

“I… yeah, I’d say so.”

“Cool.”

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. You imagine one slicing through the air like butter. You think briefly about those TikTok videos where things get cut into and you find out it’s cake.

“Is everything okay?” Peter murmurs. He’s treading on uncharted territory. He’s fought aliens and thieves and the police, and yet, asking you about your feelings right now is just a tad harder than all those things.

You look at him and you wonder if he’s about to cry or if the fluorescents are just making his eyes a little glossy. It doesn’t help that Peter always has a perpetual look of something on his face, pupils wide in either shock, wonder, admiration, or every emotion under the sun. If Peter Parker was anything, it was emotive. This made him a terrible liar.

“Yeah, everything’s good,” you say quietly.

“H-how was the date?”

You’re grateful that he changes the subject. You aren’t quite sure what you think of everything yet. If there was any more awkward silence you might’ve done the reckless thing and kissed Peter on the mouth. You reflect back on the horrid two hours you had at the dive bar and feel the irritation set lines in your face.

“Kind of terrible, and not even in an entertaining way. He was so far up his ass that I didn’t get any room to speak. Men think that women want to hear them talk on and on about their likes and dislikes like we’re fucking taking notes instead of just being normal fucking human beings and engaging in a genuine conversation. He also called me offputting. And abrasive! Am I fucking abrasive?” you seethe, groaning dramatically as you take a gulp of your wine.

Peter’s expression showcases his brows raised, his pink mouth curled up in a teasing smirk at your exasperation. You want to be annoyed because you just proved your Tinder date’s point, but you can’t help but laugh under Peter’s gaze. You feel relaxed again when he smiles.

“No offense, but you kind of have terrible taste in men.”

“That’s no way to talk about your good friend and roommate.”

“Harry’s great,” Peter defends, shrugging. “He’s also just a fucking idiot. You could do better.”

You frown, chewing on your lip. You wonder what Peter means by that.

“You really think that?”

“Of course. But he’d be lucky to have you, too.”

You acknowledge his statement for a moment, repeating it in your head. You can barely picture yourself with Harry, you realize, and that thought alone was incredibly depressing to you. The strange spark between you and Peter was also a difficult thing to ignore. Biting the inside of your lip, you contemplate.

“What if– what if we kept going with this?” you mumble.

“With…”

You make a wild gesture with your hands, waving them around vaguely. Peter watches the way your throat contracts when you loudly sigh. He smiles at the sight of you flustered. He thinks about a few other ways he could rile you up.

“This. You know. We’re young, hormonal, and we both have unrequited crushes. It feels nice to have that… physical release,” you admit. Your eyes are closed when you say it. As if looking into Peter’s face makes it real. “And, like, I– I trust you, I guess, and we’re pretty compatible–”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I’m down,” Peter shrugs.

“I didn’t realize casual sex was such a nonchalant thing with you,” you narrow your eyes.

“How do you want me to react? With disgust? Also, I think it’s cute how much you’re struggling to tell me that you had a good time last night. I was watching your face do mental gymnastics.”

Your brows are furrowed at Peter’s casual demeanor, and you hate how embarrassed you feel for this arrangement even if it’s what you want. You suppose you haven’t done anything like this before, especially not with someone so close to you. And here Peter is, watching you emotionally flail around while he leans on your kitchen counter looking completely entertained.

Without a warning, your mouth is on his and he grips the back of your head naturally with his large hands, and soon enough, they’re snaked around your waist. His lips are soft and moving with yours like a blooming flower. You want to blame the buzz in your head on the alcohol but you know it’s because of the boy holding you right now. You nibble on his lip slightly before pulling back.

“Sorry, that was really abrupt,” you whisper, eyes raking over the roseate blush adorning Peter’s cheeks.

“No worries. Sometimes messy is kind of hot,” he breathes.

“How’d you like it?”

“I think the answer to that is obvious,” Peter replies, the lower register of his voice coming out between a rasp and a chuckle as he adjusts his lower half.

“Okay, yeah, this works,” you nod.

“Wait, did you just kiss me to confirm this like a business deal?”

“No, I just… wanted to make sure. And I am sure.”

Peter swallows thickly and looks you up and down. He resists the urge to take a finger to a loose strand of your hair that’s fallen over your collarbone. He isn’t sure how casual this was supposed to be – when he was comfortable with someone, one could describe him as touchy, and you were… unprecedented. The fact that he even slept with you makes something reel in Peter’s mind like he’d uncovered something secret. He looks at your mouth. He wants to kiss it again.

Before he can get an inch closer to your frame, you both jump at the sound of his phone ringing. You notice the clench of his jaw when he picks it up.

“Hey, man. Nothing, just at Y/N’s.” He grimaces.

“Okay, yeah, I know. No, yeah, we’ll be there soon. Don’t blackout at the pregame, Oz.”

“What’s up?” you quip, sucking air through your teeth.

“As much as I want to continue this further, the prince is awaiting our arrival.”

You, a glass bottle of Icelandic vodka, and the passing glances of Peter Parker are a rather maladjusted trio throughout the night at the Osborn manor. Harry likes to call it that because the ceilings are still ornate from when a previous tenant, some rumored duchess slash witch, had the apartment renovated during the 1950s. MJ likes to threaten Harry with the possibility of the witch’s ghost coming to haunt everyone in the room if they don’t hand her the aux.

In defense of Harry and Betty’s belligerent drunkenness and shared brain cell, you’re thankful that neither of them has yet to propose a game that would involve chugging any satanic concoctions (the glistening green bottle of Jagermeister keeps taunting you) or shooting a roulette of who would be blessed to make out with them.

At the moment, MJ and Ned are arguing about whether to put on a video game or karaoke, while you stare at the flatscreen as one of the Scream movies plays. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up when you feel a figure plop down next to you, a bony hand resting on your knee. It’s weird how you automatically expect it to be Peter. It’s weirder when you realize it’s actually Harry.

He clicks his tongue, watching the TV with you for a moment before meeting your gaze and flashing his pearly whites in a wolf smile.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight,” he muses.

“I’m trying to drink slow. I’m in Grandma mode. Spent my pregame at a shitty bar with a shitty Tinder date and then drowning my sorrows with Peter,” you smile casually, gnawing on your lip when you feel Harry stretch his arm to lay on the back of the couch behind you.

“Aww, lighten up, chicken. Fucker’s missing out.”

From the kitchen, Peter’s pouring himself another shot, watching as Harry gets closer to you. He frowns for no reason that he can admit to himself other than the acidity currently burning his throat.

“Y/N! Puh-lease do a Taylor Swift duet with me!” Betty screeches, lighting up the room like the Energizer Bunny.

“Oh, here we fucking go,” Michelle mumbles.

“You like Taylor Swift,” the blonde shoves her gently with a teasing smile on her face. Michelle reciprocates one that’s shamelessly plastic.

“Okay, fine, but not ‘All Too Well.’ I beg of you.”

Within the whirlwind of a few seconds – since when did the boys own a spinning disco lamp? – you’re caught in the middle of the living room as the speakers blast “Blank Space.” For some reason, there’s a glorious revelation you have that could be blamed on the vodka and Betty Brant’s infectious energy, but your chest fills with something warm when you notice your friends cheering the two of you on. Your voice cracks into a giggle when you see Harry filming you with flash on his phone, to which you nearly climb on top of him to snatch the evidence. You slightly fall towards Peter, who’s watching you with equal amusement.

“So hey, let’s be friends, I’m dying to see how this one ends,” you sing into the microphone, towering over Peter on the couch. You brush off the tiny stumble that nearly causes you to fall into his lap. A quick hand to the small of your back sends a shiver down your spine.

“SO IT’S GONNA BE FOREVER… OR IT’S GONNA GO DOWN IN FLAMES!”

“Betty, not on the coffee table, please!”

“Boys… only… want… love… if it’s—” The blonde makes a noise that sounds close to a retch. Or a burp. Either way, the horror that slowly creeps up on everyone’s faces is borderline comical.

“Don’t say I didn’t, say I didn’t, warn ya!” you sing, exploding in a fit of laughter along with Harry and Peter as Ned picks up Betty over his shoulder and makes beeline for the bathroom.

“Ned, hold her hair back!” MJ seethes.

“Dude, did you give her the Jager?” Harry asks Peter incredulously.

“Yeah, mixed with like, Sprite or something…”

“You know how she gets!”

“I thought you meant to make sure she doesn’t have too much.”

Violent retching echoes from the bathroom down the hall. You feel like you’re on an episode of reality television.

“I love her so much,” you murmur, cradling the bottle of vodka like a newborn baby. “She’s like a sorority girl.”

You hold your hands up in surrender when the boys look at you like you have three heads.

You weren’t much of a partier, nowhere near to what your friends were like, which is why it isn’t unusual for you to simply fall asleep at the function. When you blink awake, your eyes squint as you adjust your blurry vision to the coffee table scattered with empty glasses and cans. What alarms you is the sound of high-pitched hissing, causing you to jolt up.

The hissing stops as you hear the sound of a knob cranking. A kettle.

Peter emerges from the kitchen with a mug of tea in hand. You can’t help but look him up in down, cheeks warming as you notice the tight fit of his black t-shirt and the fact that he’s in a pair of Calvins.

“Oh, hey, you’re up.”

“What time is it?” you mumble, tucking your legs into your arms as you blink up at the brunette.

“Almost two. Do you wanna crash here or should I call you an Uber?”

“Where’d everyone go?”

“Ned and Betty went home. Then we started watching Shrek, but MJ and Harry wanted to go to bed. You fell asleep during the movie.”

“MJ and Harry,” you echo. Your confused expression meets Peter’s defeated one. “Are they…”

“Dunno. It’s funny, she usually hates sleeping in other people’s beds,” Peter shrugs, the look of disdain on his face fading into a quiet melancholy.

You feel like you’re in a dream sequence. Your stomach aches with nausea. You hate the way how heavy your head feels and how eerily still and uncomfortable the atmosphere is. Even the mild exhale of your breath feels too loud. There’s a sudden need to leave, retreat into a fetal position, or burrow into a hole like a small animal. There’s also that strange glow, a gravitational pull that you’re trying to ignore between your body and Peter’s.

Eventually graduating towards your nightly ritual, you wordlessly leave to go to the bathroom to rinse the makeup off your face and brush your teeth with the pad of your finger. Like hell were you going to be left alone in your apartment at two in the morning right now. When you turn to shut the light off, you hear the hint of a voice or a murmur. The ghost of a hushed whisper, and then a grunt. You take a step forward and glance at Harry’s closed door. Your eyes widen.

Quickly, you speedwalk as quietly as you can back to Peter in the living room. He looks up from his mug of tea with a puzzled expression on his face. You look like you’ve seen a ghost.

“Let’s watch a movie,” you relay to Peter, your voice monotonous and your figure slumped. He wonders about your change in temperament because within the three minutes you were gone, you somehow came back looking more distraught and dismal. He has the urge to do something to lighten your mood but he doesn’t know what, and he realizes how much he wants to touch you, to hold your face in his hands. The somber look on your face makes his stomach sink.

“Okay?” he frowns, eyebrows pinching together in worry in reaction to your despondence. He doesn’t bother to pry and follows you to his bedroom.

You’re quick to discard your clothes with your back turned from Peter’s prying eyes, which you can feel burning into your shoulder blades. He’d seen you naked before, so you don’t know why you feel a certain heat permeating your body. Quickly, you put on a pair of his boxers and an oversized hoodie.

“What do you want to watch?” he mumbles, attempting to distract himself away from your figure and onto his laptop screen.

“Anything. Star Wars?” you shrug.

“You’re voluntarily suggesting we watch Star Wars?” he raises an eyebrow.

“I could’ve said something way more violent considering what I’m feeling,” you mutter darkly, rushing through your words.

“Why are you–” A thump. The sound of a squeaking bedframe reverberates from the other side of the wall. Peter blinks with understanding.

He settles on The Force Awakens, even though he thinks it’s the worst one for ripping off the plot of Episode Four, but you liked it enough to be fixated for a good two weeks when you were a teenager. It’s comforting. You need all the comfort you can get right now.

You’re grateful when you lean into Peter’s shoulder, embracing his warmth as he gets closer to you. It feels as easy as breathing. You don’t notice the way he’s peering at you, the blue light of his laptop dancing around your features as you watch the movie with a cat-like stare.

Peter’s seen this movie too many times, but he didn’t want to argue with you about picking another movie at this hour of the night. He didn’t even really want to watch a movie at all, but suggesting another activity while he was alone with you made him feel like he was treading on dangerous waters. Even despite the agreement the two of you had made earlier, it felt wrong to engage in it and make it such a recurring proclivity already. Not when you’re sulking in his bed and trying your best to get your mind off of the boy in the next room.

Peter thinks that maybe he should be just as upset as you, but ultimately, he feels kind of numb. Michelle is his best friend, and despite his years of pining, she is so herself that Peter doesn’t want to make a dent in the glass bubble she stays in; he just wants to polish it and make it all pretty for her. And then there was Harry, whose charisma he’d always admired since the day he met him, and he doesn’t feel contempt thinking about Harry being with Michelle. He doesn’t feel angry. But he does feel… disappointment.

The expression on your face is pallid. Smudged eyeliner adorns your bottom lash line – you weren’t the most thorough when you’d washed your face – which gives you the appearance of a worn, cool-girl punk rocker, lips sewed together in a permanent pout. Peter blinks at the curve of your lips. He craves them, wanting desperately to close the gap.

A twinge of guilt. He chooses not to.

Instead, he shifts closer to you in his bed and rests his hand in between your bodies nonchalantly. His fingers land on the curve of your hip and rubs circles into the skin. You turn to look at him and he gulps, wondering what gears are turning in your head and what they might mean. He doesn’t expect you to give in first.

A rough kiss to the mouth and the laptop slides off of Peter’s lap. He discards it, kicking it gently towards the foot of the bed. You attempt to catch your breath when he hovers over you, straddling your body as his hands roam your lower half. His fingers trail from your hip down to your inner thigh. God, you’re so embarrassingly wet and it’s only been two minutes.

Your gasp expels from your mouth and into his. His hand tucks itself under the waistband of your – his – boxers to circle the pad of his finger to your clit. He pulls back from kissing you so that he can watch your face shift in tandem with bouts of pleasure, your sweet sighs hanging in the air. His jaw drops slightly at the sight of you taking off your hoodie, only clad in his boxers.

“You should wear my underwear more often, you look really hot,” he murmurs, the low register of his voice resembling a purr.

You grin in response. You’re eager to tug his sweatpants down to his ankles, smirking in delight when you’ve got him exposed. He blushes profusely.

“Someone’s happy.”

“You are making this so hard,” he grumbles under his breath.

“Oh, I’m definitely making something hard,” you giggle. Before you can come up with another comeback, he shuts you up with a kiss and proceeds to rub your clit. The act elicits a moan that’s a bit too loud for your liking, but when you feel the need to keep in, you think about the next room out of spite. It feels evil. But then again, you think you deserve to get off after the shit day you had.

Peter feels like he’s been kissing you for a decade straight, and the ache in his stomach reminds him that his body begs for your touch. He caresses the slope of your jaw, then your nose with the pad of his finger as if verifying that you’re real. When he reaches the corner of your mouth, you take his digits onto your tongue and suck.

“Fuck,” Peter breathes. You’re more than delighted to hear his reaction to your actions, but you’re too impatient to let this drag out for another minute. As is he, even if he does want to watch you suck on his fingers for the rest of his life.

Two fingers tease the folds of your pussy before sliding in – the way his fingers stretch you out feels like heaven. He glazes over your sweet spot, rubbing gently. You feel slightly flustered at the fact that you’re so, so fucking close, and from your mental timekeeping, it’s been… what? Less than ten minutes?

“Just… fuck,” you hiss, taking the effort to switch positions with Peter. You straddle him to gain dominance and take pleasure in pulling off his t-shirt, clawing at him desperately.

Peter thinks briefly about how his hands don’t feel connected to his brain, because his senses and his body are so attuned to you that he wants to touch every crevice of you – it feels primal, natural. When he hears you beg, he thinks he might combust.

“Fuck, fuck me,” you gasp. “Please, please.”

“Okay,” Peter breathes, being as gentle as possible in the way he grips your hips and slips inside of you. He’s encouraged by the way you moan at the impact, your face warm to the touch as you screw your eyes shut and pull your arms around the boy.

“Faster, faster” comes out of your mouth like a mantra. You can’t think of anything else except Peter’s body slamming into yours and how the color of his eyes would look lovely under the sunrise.

He buries his face into your neck, the desperate groans from his mouth to kiss your jaw. Peter grits his teeth in an attempt to be quieter, but the way that he thrusts in and out from your cunt makes him feel like he’s seeing stars to the point where he can’t even grasp how loud he might be. All he knows is that he wants to swallow up your moans with his tongue in your mouth, and he’s desperate to make you cum around his cock.

Flipping you onto your back, he circles his finger on your bud as he rams into you with a pace that’s unrelenting. You suspend all of your beliefs – you think that you can sink into his bed like it’s the ocean and disappear once he’s done with you.

You know this because he’s about to finish, and he’s looking you straight in the eye, and for a brief moment, he wonders if it’s as real for you as it is for him. Peter is your best friend, you think, but when you linger on the thought for too long, you feel shameful with paranoia that he agreed to sleep with you out of pity. In reality, Peter is so enamored that the more he sees of you, the more he’s convinced you aren’t real. He wants you to know but he can’t get the words off his tongue.

“Gonna cum,” you whisper. Your eyes are closed.

“Hey, look at me,” Peter murmurs after taking his face out of the hollow of your neck. You’re too afraid to open your eyes. He knows this. And yet, he’s able to coax you out of the fantasy. You’re looking right at his dark brown eyes, appearing almost black in the dimness of his bedroom, but the upturned smile on his features and the light dancing around his pupils make you want to cry in the most wholesome way possible.

“I’m… I’m gonna–”

“Yes, fuck, feel so good around me…”

You forget to tell him when you cum, but he knows exactly when you do. It’s when your body shakes right under him, small hands grasping at the shoulders of his back as if you’re trying to take ahold of his wings. He looks upon you in awe through your orgasm, your eyes shut with your mouth agape in pink bliss. God, you’re so fucking pretty. He wishes he could let you know in a way that lets you see yourself exactly as he does.

After your highs have dipped over the peak of your orgasms, the two of you lay in silence with only your breaths filling the air. You mentally trace the slope of Peter’s slightly crooked nose over and over until you can close your eyes and envision nothing.

You fall asleep first. Peter is up an extra hour or two because of the different ways he imagines your face, the way you talk, and if he’s going to ruin you for other people. He knows this is temporary but he has trouble thinking about you with anyone else.

i. ykwim? ← / → iii. saying your names

tags: @venomsilk @silkholland @g3org1al33 @nocturnalms @edgycatx @sleepingdancer @bluebearxy @marshmellowyellow @hoe-4-sebstan @evanpetersisreallyhot @ronweasleyslut @takenbyheartstrings @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @sinisterspidey @she-wintersoldat @freeshavocadoooo @moonyslantsov @lowkey-holland @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @runawaywithmyghost @mischeifparker @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan @letssee2468 @arlo-sanders @adayasgeorgia @spookiespoons @iloveboobs3000 @vigilanteswife @theglitterymess @babyfezco @4ndreaaa @agustdee @trvlllx @mayal0pez @yourlocalomlette @wisdomcrys @sapphosdilemma​ @juliatpwk @starksview​ @noemiix1 @lmnp89 @marohares @pure-a-tea @allazay101 @pixiehollands @babyspiders @ellesalazar @honeyspidey @dark-night-sky-99 @spideyspeaches

[witch-hazels-musings]

because I need that good loving can I request Diluc and Zhongli reaction to seeing there SO dressed up for a formal event even though its not something they really like doing but because they dont want to make Diluc/Zhongli look bad in front of all these other people they put all their effort into looking like the human embodiment of attractiveness.

the way you look tonight 

(okay so truth time - I thought about you the whole time I was writing this and forgot you requested it -- I hope the love of these boys reminds you that you are lovely <3!) 

Warning -> SFW, fluff / comfort (cussing(1))(self-conscience reader)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Zhongli ⚘, Diluc

Zhongli

He finds your normal style of dress unique and interesting, it’s unlike most of the people who make up Liyue’s landscape and it’s independently you

When someone lives their life in the way they want to, that's what Zhongli admires the most about people, about humans 

He doesn’t mind what you wear, he would want anyone to meet you, to see you regardless because through his eyes he sees your attractiveness - it’s in the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you react when something makes you excited or when he gives you a gift you don’t expect - how could he hide you away and not let others see the way you glow? 

You look at yourself for the tenth time in the large circular mirror. An hour had gone by and you still felt unusual, out of place, like a fraud in this attire. For the, you’ve lost count, time you fuss with the fabric that sits against your stomach, tugging on it, wondering if you should leave it open or closed. The most frustrating thing about this is that you had no idea how to wear this damn thing. 

Your head falls onto the vanity and you do your best to hold it all in. With a deep breath, you go back to messing with your hair and face. The ticking clock behind you reminds you that time is not your friend no matter how much you want it to stop. 

This is so hard for you, of course, you want to be there for Zhongli - he was there for everything you ever did, it was beyond time to repay him - but you just couldn’t find the confidence to be proud of what you’d done. So, shaping the image in your brain into a distorted representation of what you wished you looked like, you stood from your small chair and walked toward the door of the bedroom. 

Your shoes click on the hardwood floor which is something you hate, the thought of people hearing you coming only to see what appears from the source of the sound makes your skin crawl. Still, you pressed on, and that’s when your eyes fell onto the immaculate figure that stands near the entrance. His tall, elegant frame is so intense it knocks the wind from your lungs as if someone just punched you in the stomach. How can I stand next to that … you panic and turn to retreat back into the safety of the bedroom when your arms collide with a small table in the hallway.

Objects fall to the ground and, in a ridiculous display of your clumsy nature, you juggle one of the more breakable objects before catching it moments from shattering on the floor below. 

“Whew …” You exclaim, bringing it close to your body. “Sorry, little guy didn’t mean to do that.” You wince, patting its side before place it back onto its home and picking up the other objects from the ground. 

Long fingers enter your field of vision, startled you stand only to see Zhongli reaching down to assist you. 

“Ah, sorry.” You express, crossing your arms after putting the items in your hands half-hazard onto the surface. 

“No need to apologize, are you injured?” He asks, standing himself and reminding you how tall he is. 

“My pride, maybe.” You share, laughing through your embarrassment. 

“Too much of that and we might find ourselves in trouble anyway.” He looks down at you, his eyes scanning, interested and making you shift under their gaze. “You …” 

“I know... I look so strange, and,” you begin, fussing with the top again, “I can’t seem to get this right.” Turning around you show him what you were talking about and how it seems far too loose. 

He laughs softly and you feel his hands run underneath the edge of the fabric and coming to rest at the wrap at your waist. “Let me assist you.” 

“Thank you …” He’s so close to you, his hands move expertly as they work to correct your inadequacies, eyes compassionate, patient as they always are. 

“This outfit suits you.”

“Does it really? I look so … I mean this isn’t something I would normally wear. In fact,”  You think for a minute before continuing, “I can’t remember the last time I dressed up for something other than adventuring. It’s not practical to go running through ruins in this type of getup.” You explain, lifting your arms and watching how the fabric slips down to your elbows before sliding back to your wrists as they collide with your legs. 

“That could turn things into quite the challenge I’d imagine.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Nevertheless, you will turn quite a many heads upon our arrival.” 

“That’s what I'm afraid of …” You mumble, forgetting that he is close enough to hear you. 

“Y/N, need I remind you how spectacular you look.” 

You bite your lip but your insecurities make you speak anyway, “I just don’t see how I have the right to stand next to you, I don’t want you to be … ashamed of me.” The end of your sentence trails off as you look to the ground. Zhongli doesn’t respond until his hands stop fixing your gown. With comforting fingers he presses against the soft underbelly of your chin, lifting your head at the angle it should be. 

“While I am beyond sure you can hear me, I hope that you can trust me as well when I tell you that every day I am honored to stand at your side. There is nothing in this world which compares to your beauty, in fact, you are more radiant than the moon itself.” He leans in to place a kiss against your forehead. 

“You don’t wish I was … more attractive?” 

“I cannot wish for a thing that holds no bearing on reality.” 

“Mmm.” 

“If my words have not reached you, perhaps I can better express my truth through actions …” He pulled you flush against him, his hands now wrapped around your hips and eyes focused on your lips. 

“Aa! Wait … no, I believe you.” Embarrassed, you push away from him and make your way toward the door. “Let’s just go because if I get out of this thing I won’t be putting it back on.” You huff, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“Shall we?” He reaches for your hand and easily you take it. 

“Let’s do this.” With a lighthearted Zhongli, you exit your home and head toward the lively sounds drifting over the water. 

Diluc

He already thinks you are so incredibly attractive no matter what you wear - he knows you’re one for practicality, from your actions to your clothes, you are ready to go and prepared for whatever will come your way - a trait he admires

There is something adorable about the way you fall out of bed in the morning and, in some cases, take less time than he does to get ready - it can come in handy where there much work to be done 

He never asks for you to be more than what you are - he honestly wouldn’t care what other people thought about you, all that matters is you believe him when he tells you how good you look or how you make his heart clench 

So when he sees you descend the stairs in an outfit, a formal, totally out-of-the-absolute-norm outfit, he’s stunned 

“Crap.” You say, flinging the jewelry you couldn’t decide on anyway back toward the dresser. You’d taken far too long to get ready, even though you started hours ago, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel confident and finished. Glancing at your reflection one last time, you gave up with a heavy sigh and made your way down the hallway. 

You could already see everyone else in their formal attire ready to go, even the attendants looked better than you did. When you caught sight of Diluc your steps slowed and for a solid minute to you debated about turning around and hiding under the comfortable covers of the bed you loathed getting out of this morning. 

“Ah, there you are! Are you ready?” Adaline shouted from below you and like a scene from a nightmare everyone turned to look up at you. You stumbled backward and felt your chest tighten, eyes scanning each face as you debated on your next action. When they fell onto Diluc’s stoic eyes, you felt a little bit of relief and knew all you had to do was make it down to him. 

Slowly, you started again and, with a deathlike grip on the railing, you made your way down the stairs. Diluc met you at the bottom, his hand extended to take yours. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out what would pair well with … this thing.” You gestured at your outfit and looked behind him, thankful that people had already started to leave through the front door. “Do I … look okay?” 

With an awkward smile, you waited for his answer, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard to lie to you. I mean, when you were able to see him in his suit, the way it perfectly fits around his toned body, the fabric tucked in all the right places, the sleeves just long enough to give one a peek of skin underneath - there was no way you compared to him. 

He looked at you for so long your heart started to feel like a thousand knives were stabbing you in all directions. He hates this … he can’t believe that I’m such a disaster. The thoughts circulate in your brain and just as your about to rush back up the stairs and hide he lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses them with so much love. 

“I apologize … I’m just a bit startled is all.” Your stomach drops to your feet at his words. 

“Archons, is it that bad? Did I put something on wrong … or?” 

“Nothing like that,” He kisses your palm and the action makes your spine turn hot, “You look unbelievable, is what I wanted to say.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes.” He looks at you but you shy away from his eyes. “Y/N, do you trust me?” 

“What … of course I trust you.” You reply, flabbergasted. 

“Then trust me now.” He pulls you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your neck, his hand resting at the back of your head. “I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you.” 

Fueled by your emotions, you return his hug, squeezing your arms around his waist and doing your best not to let your face be ruined by the tears that want to fall from stinging eyes. “Thank you, I’ll trust you on this … today.” 

“I don’t have any issues reminding you again and again.” Shouting outside tells you that it’s now or never and, as much as you don’t want to, your arms release each other. “Are you ready?” He asks, offering you his arm, and with a deep inhale and sharp nod, you take it and walk through the doors. 

----

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[kissmetae]

Hope

❧ AU: x Taehyung || Friends to Lovers (Lowkey slow-burn)

You felt distressed, caught up in your own emotions and confused by your over-thought thoughts. Going through a rough patch as some would say, where everything felt hopeless and you found yourself scrolling pinterest till 1am looking for "angsty" core aesthetics to fit your new "vibe" of life. But it was easier said than done to dig yourself a hole when your best friend constantly stood by filling the hole back up as you dug in an attempt to stop you, help you and make you feel better, despite having his own issue to deal with... his crush on you.

|| ANGST + SMUT | 11k | x reader | masterlist in bio ||

❧ Disclaimer: This is fiction. Actions and events in these stories are often exaggerated and to a certain degree unrealistic.  Please have this in consideration when reading fiction, especially if it includes sexual content.

❧ Rating: EXPLICIT || sexual content, unprotected sex ||  Warnings: mention of feeling hopeless, "deep reflection", (reader is troubled by something going on in their life but it's open for interpretation/unspecified)

❧ Smut features: Vanilla, desperate, first time together, unprotected, reassuring/concent asking/'checking in' (is this ok? Does it feel good?) top!Tae and a power outage.

How do you know when you've reached the complete state of hopelessness? Do people ever become 100% hopeless? You inhaled deeply and sighed it out. Gaze to the white ceiling, back on the bed and legs up against the wall. The tingle in your feet from the lack of circulation made them look somewhat less alive and feel cold. With a tilt of the hips you allowed your legs to slowly fall to the side, forming a new pose in the shape of a 90 degree angle on the bed and allowing for the less zombie-ish color to return to your feet. Hopelessness. Feeling like there is no point yet still stubbornly aching in the inner crevice of the head with a wish for there to be a chance for something else. A change, a plot twist a sudden eureka to make the entire world loose it's zombie color pallet and become lively and vibrant again. Hope. Or a wish for hope. It's probably some basic programming, like survival instinct, hope instinct. But at this point you didn't want to believe. You wanted to be grumpy, upset, frustrated. To curse society and curse what isn't fair and curse all the norms and expectations around you regardless of who made them up! Curse the media, curse the mold for perfect and the lip filler ads, curse the restrictions planted by your own beliefs and curse the cause of said belief! But feeling frustrated and angry is hard. Not only is it exhausting but it's the hardest emotion to let out fully and feel satisfied by after. If anything anger and frustration feels like a self-fueling fire that keeps burning more and more until you get exhausted and slump down on the bed with your legs up the wall. Crying would've been easier. You sat up, feeling a brief spin in the head due to your advanced modelling poses and reached for your water bottle. Water, Zen, calm rivers, refreshment, sound of clucking water in the harbor... rain. You turned towards your bedroom window at the sudden raging pattering sound outside. Even the sky needed to cry today. You reached for your phone, having it be faced down for the past hour or so after giving up on ranting about your dilemma to your friend. You had two types of friends. Those who were there for you when convenient and those who were there for you regardless. Taehyung was one of them. 3 missed calls. 15 texts- make that 16. A sting of guilt washed through realizing he must've been worried sick the past hour. Too exhausted to use your vocal chords you opened the text chat. Taehyung was the definition personified of a caring person. Sometimes to the extent where you'd question if it was more than anyone deserved. Did the world deserve Taehyung? You didn't make it through the second text before your doorbell rang followed by a loud bang. It sounded urgent... You got up from bed and slipped your feet into your white fluffy slippers and made your way to the front door of your apartment. You unhooked the clasp and unlocked your door to see one of the rainstorm's victims dripping water onto your doormat. Taehyung, Dressed in a green raincoat and hair clinging to his forehead and temples. His chest was rising unnaturally with his attempts to regain his breathe. "Tae-" He stepped in, an arm wrapping around your side and the other pressing your head to his wet shoulder. "If you didn't make me so worried... I would've removed my raincoat before hugging you." He squeezed. "See this as my revenge." His heart was beating fast. He pulled back after a few seconds, breathing stable and his red hands reaching to unbutton his raincoat. Did he not wear gloves? He pulled the door shut behind him and gently kicked off his boots. Apparently not. "I'll... go hang your raincoat in the bathroom for it to dry" you said, taking it from him. He was quick to address the elephant. "Why didn't you reply to my texts?" He followed behind you. "I... I left my phone to charge and I got distracted..." you made up, hanging his raincoat up in the shower. "I didn't come here to scold you, but when you tell me you're feeling hopeless, you get that it makes me worried right?" His voice was gentle and he looked at you with concerned eyes, stood in the door to the bathroom. Actually.... you didn't. Why would anyone worry... everyone seemed to always take it as nihilistic comedy or something and swat it away with something along the lines of "you’re just hungry" or the classic "are you on your period?" Maybe you were or maybe you weren't but why would that matter? Just thinking about it made you feel annoyed. As if any deep emotion only was caused by a period, it's just a period, why would anyone, let alone someone with a period themselves ask someone else that in a way that minimizes the reason they feel upset or angry or whatever emot- "Hey?" Taehyung pulled you back out from inside your head. "I don't know..." He crossed his arms over his chest and you knew that look far too well. "We'll talk about it, but right now, I'm here to make it better and take care of you. Did you eat?" You shook your head. "Great! Because I stopped by at the shop on my way... before the rain attacked me and picked up some stuff, including~" he said with an eager tone and walked towards the grocery bag you hadn’t noticed until now. He picked it up and dug his hand in for something. "Du du du du" he sang dramatically and slowly pulled out the familiar dark blue packaging. The love of your life, the source of all things good. Chocolate. The good one! Not the weird orange wrapping one you hated, but the blue one, the holy blue one, your favorite one. "I remember your frustration when you saw the empty shelf of horror last week and it was restocked today so i picked up three just in case." "THREE?!" "Mhm!" He nodded proudly. You could cry, finally, but for other reasons. "TaeTae you're the best." You walked towards him, hugging him tight. He was the bestest of the best, the hero, the savior, chocolate delivery man. Oh what would life be without him. A blush spread across his cheeks. "You did it again." He said shyly "Hm? Did what?" "You called me TaeTae." "You don't like it?" "... I do." -- Taehyung had you stationed at the kitchen table while he cooked. With a focused gaze he scrolled on his phone, reading the next step for the recipe while stirring the pot. You were pretty sure he knew this recipe by heart now, he'd cooked it for you before and he should be confident in it but seemingly not enough yet to put the recipe down. The kitchen smelt amazing and you could feel your hunger cry out for whatever was simmering in the pot. Taehyung gently tapped the wooden spoon against the pot as he added another ingredient. "Are you going to tell me what happened?" He asked. That's where you'd left him hanging in your texts when exhaustion took over... "I just..." "Is it /that/ thing?" Taehyung asked, very much knowing of your source for distress already. "Kinda... but this time it feels different... I’m not nervous or eager, I just felt like I was waiting and waiting and what if I waited so long for nothing and I.... it doesn’t make sense but I just feel numb at this point and like I'm losing hope. Like every odd is set against me and I'm the only one dumb enough to still bet on myself." "And me. Except I'm not dumb, nor are you and I'll always bet on you. Always." Oh Taehyung... "Well, as your personal doctor and advisor and therapist and nurse, care-taker, comfort teddy and so on, I am going to prescribe you with some stuff." You chuckled. "Please go ahead." He placed a plate in front of you and another on the opposite end of the table. "Firstly, a good healing meal." "And you’ve already done everything in your power right now, you’ve been working hard. Maybetoohard." He mumbled under his breathe followed by a fake cough. "That said, let me distract you." "How?" "Well, some old school friends wanted to go out clubbing this weekend and-" "You don't like clubbing." "Hold on, let me get to the point. My suggestion is that you can come too, it won’t only be them. There will be the general club people too of course and I think most of them were bringing other friends or their girlfriends too so... it might be fun? If it sucks, we'll ditch and go to the midnight bowling place or noraebang, yes?" Maybe having some social interaction, an excuse to dress up and good music wasn't such a bad idea? The only thing bugging you was the potential mess there could be... and lately with your stressed mind you hadn't been the best at handling those environments, but after all this was just a club, with dancing people... it couldn't be that bad right? Bowling did sound fun too though... But you knew distraction and fun was what you probably needed. Maybe it wouldn't solve the issues but maybe it'd make it weigh less. The small distractions did a lot, a big one should do even more. "Sure." "Really?!" You could've sworn you just witnessed his ears wiggle from excitement. "I'll come." -- When Taehyung said "clubbing" you expected big flashy neon signs, a red rope and a guard and pulsing music coming from inside... not a giant base, a sax and a set-up of almost 4 different types of synthesizers. A jazz club. You should've known. The band was some sort of electro jazz fusion sprinkled with funk type band, as they introduced themselves as and they weren't bad, not at all. In fact this was a lot cozier than an uncomfortable packed nightclub. You just wish Taehyung told you so you could've worn your comfy flowy favorite dress rather than your tight little black one, wanting to fit in with the scene... Taehyung was dressed in black slacks, a green sweater and a brown coat that was hung over his chair, paired with his trademark assortment of bracelets on his wrist. Including the one you gave him for his birthday two years ago. He never took it off since the day he got it. It made you smile seeing it on his wrist. Taehyung's old school friends, the few you had managed to great during the evening were all really nice and most of them had their arm either around another or a hand held by another. You couldn't help but feel a little awkward, the questioning looks that didn't need to be vocal for you to understand. "Is this your girlfriend?" Taehyung just smiled, maybe playing it off was best... or did he just not notice the silent question? At first you expected a shrug or something but nope... "Would you like something more to drink?" Taehyung asked, leaning in so you'd hear him over the music and pointing towards your nearly empty glass. "I think I'm alright." "What?" "I'm ok." You leaned in closer. "Do you want to dance?" You and Taehyung were seated alone at one of the many tables as the majority were occupied dancing to the beats of the band and the rest drinking at other tables or mingling around. You had been up there at least twice, maybe even three times dancing the best you could and Taehyung always being by your side but your brain was starting to get a little drowsy. "I think I'm going to call it a night. But you can stay if you want." "No no, if you want to go home I'll come with you, let me walk you home." "I'll take a taxi its ok" "I insist." "So do I" the few drink he had had were enough to make his words braver and bolder. "It's late, I don't want you to go back alone regardless of if you take a taxi. I'll walk you." Fine. "Ok" Taehyung swept the remainder of his wine  and grabbed his coat and waved some quick goodbyes. It was cold outside. Dark and empty... maybe it was good Taehyung insisted after all. He stumbled slightly, alarming you. Your hands instinctively reached for him and he giggled. "You only had two glasses I doubt you're drunk right now." "Maybe I wiwwle tipdie" he giggled, clearly  acting up. "Does wiwwle tipdie Taehyung need help? Should I carry you on my back?" "No! I should be carrying you, do you have a blister on your heal from your shoes? Sore feet? Sore legs? Anything I can use as an excuse?" You laughed, patting him gently on the back. A cold breeze travelled through the street and you pulled your jacket tighter around you. "You're cold?" Taehyung asked "A little... my choice of dress wasn't the best." "I think you look beautiful." The sudden compliment caught you off guard. "... thanks." "Thanks? For what?" "The compliment" "I'm simply stating the facts." He said, looking to the side and slipping his hands into his pockets. "It sure is cold..." Why was it feeling awkward suddenly? Silence between the two of you would usually be comfortable... "Thanks for bringing me too." "Did you have fun?" He turned to face you again. "Yes, it was better than I expected." "I'm glad to hear that." "But let’s go bowling next time." "Sure!" He smiled widely. A source of warmth suddenly surrounded you and you looked up to see Taehyung's face turned away yet again but his arm resting around your shoulder, wrapping his coat around you and urging you closer into his side till your hips almost brushed against each other. The rest of the walk back home was a few minutes of silence, but luckily you didn't live far. "Home sweet home" "How will you get home?" You asked, concerned. "Ah..." he checked the time on his phone. "Well I've missed the last train... so unless I can find a taxi which so far I've seen none I'll have to sleep at the station." "No you're not, come, you can call a taxi from my place and at least wait inside instead of out in the cold." You said, grabbing his arm and pulling him with you through the entrance. "Nobody's picking up?" You asked Taehyung looked down at his phone with a confused look. "It keeps hanging up on me? I don't know if maybe their line is down or something?" "It would explain why we didn't see any on the walk back." "I guess so... so now what?" He looked up at you. "Guess you'll have to stay the night." He grinned. "Can't remember the last time we had a sleep-over" he chuckled and removed his coat. He was right, it must've been years ago... the last time you could remember was a movie night gone sleep over during winter when it had snowed so no traffic was able to move at all. You grabbed a spare cover and a pillow and handed it to Taehyung, sleepiness already present in his eyes. "Hey." Taehyung said, laying out the pillow and cover on your sofa. "If I have a nightmare can I come lay next to you?" He grinned. "If you have to." He replied with a puppy gaze. "Good night TaeTae." His eyes widened and he looked down at the couch. "... Good night." -- The question was when would you wake to the sound of birds chirping instead of the aggressive rasp of the snow plow dragging across the street? It almost sounded like it was more ir less plowing the asphalt off the earth rather than the snow. More irritating was that it just added to your unsatisfying sleep and rough awakening streak. One good morning was all you asked for... You sat up, slid off the edge of the bed and slipped into your slippers that were neatly set up by its side. A scratch of the head and an adjusting pull of the bun on your head and you headed to you first destination; tea. With heavy steps you dragged yourself out of your room and were met by the surprise you had forgotten was left on your couch from last night, sprawled across the sofa... in only boxers. Oh god. The covers were halfway on the floor, only covering his legs, barely. It was cold too but should you just ignore him... no, you couldn't... but what if you woke him up? He was only in boxers and you were already trying your best not to look but your brain had already registered that they were black and Calvins... please no more information... thigh muscles NO! Chest, focus on the chest. He was breathing, he was alive. Inhale, exhale. You carefully made your way towards him. His chest was toned... the type perfect to rest your head on NO! Messy hair... It really didn't help that your best friend was as attractive as he was. You bent down and carefully picked up the cover, pulling it back up over his upper body. He must've been really cold, his nipples- NO. You shook your head furiously to get rid of the thought. You turned around 180 degrees and marched to the kitchen. Tea. Tea. Tea. Tae. TEA! You could hear the covers rustle as he shifted, followed by a soft groan. Oh no... Please no. Although... why was it so dangerous for him to see you in your own home, making tea. I don't know! But regardless it felt like an action movie stealth scene for the grand heist judging by your heart beat. The boiler was too loud, the accidental clink of the mug as you set it to the counter too, the rip of packaging of the tea bag, the wind whistling outside! Sweat? You were sweating, stress consuming you yet again over the moist pointless little thi- "Hey?" The tea cup smashed against the kitchen floor along with your gasp and you grabbed the door handle of the kitchen cupboard for support. Taehyung starred at you with wide startled eyes. Maybe your screech scared him as much as his sudden presence scared you. "Sorry." He chuckled, voice so deep and raspy you could practically feel his vocal chords vibrate. Your heart was pounding hard. Could he at least have been swaddled in the covers and not in his boxers right now... You diverted your eyes to the porcelain shards across the floor. "Wait wait wait!" Taehyung yelped, holding his hand out to stop you from moving. But it was too late. The dark kitchen along with your giddiness had of course resulted in the unfortunate miss step. You sighed, lifting your foot from the chard as you felt something wet trickle down your foot. Taehyung quickly reached to turn the lights on, the bright shine blinding both of you briefly and making the view of him even clearer. "Stay there." Taehyung ordered. Your kitchen was pretty small so there wasn't much space to move without risking another wrong step. A cup of tea and now all this. You slapped your arms to your sides in a deep pout. Making a new cup now just felt wrong but you craved a cup so bad and it was cold... the floor was cold, you were cold... and not to mention everything hanging in form of heavy weights on your shoulders and chilling on top of the imaginary storm cloud above you right now. It's like your issues were mocking you and just making everything worse. Maybe the issue was that you related to the once-was intact mug. You felt split and unorganized, all over the place and dependent on things you knew you shouldn’t be depending your hope and happiness on but yet day after day you’d lose yourself in a visualization of a scenario of perfection were everything would be ok until again the door was slammed in your face and you had to start all over again. No matter how many times you felt like this time would be different and this time you were ready, this time it'd all go your way because the past was forgiven and your time wasn’t right but again and again .... Your patience was running out. You sniffed, wiping the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand. Taehyung came back holding a broom and a dust pan when he saw your face of tears. "No..." he sounded panicked. He leaned down quickly sweeping the chards to the side of the kitchen and tossing the broom and pan into the pile so he could approach you. Strong lean arms embarrassed you like out of a 6 different angles k-drama scene. A hand found its place on the back of your head, softly petting you as the other pressed you closer to his warm chest. Never had you expected  that hugging Taehyung would feel this safe. May it be because he was the one you could be truly vulnerable with or that he was the one that knew what was going on right now, but whatever he did... he did it just right. "You don't need to say anything." He whispered. "I know." He squeezed you a little firmer. "I know." He reassured. "Sssh" his hand felt so gentle as it caressed you. "It's going to be ok." He felt so warm. "I'm here." His skin felt so soft against your hands. "I'm not going anywhere." Your heart calmed down. Taehyung didn't pull away until you became silent and your breathing stable. But even then he didn't pull away completely, only enough to look at your face and caress his thumbs under each eye gently. "I'll reheat the water for you." He smiled softly and reached for the switch on the kettle. You didn't want to let go, not just yet. But he slipped away carefully and kneeled to sweep up the shards and discarded the pieces into the bin. He briefly disappeared and came back holding his sweater, arms slipped in and pulling it over his head as he entered, causing his shoulders to naturally flex slightly as he slipped it on. He grabbed two mugs from the cupboard, added a bag in each and filled them with the hot water. You tugged and fidgeted at your sleeve as you watched, feeling unusually shy in his presence. "Come, let’s sit on the sofa" Taehyung said and grabbed a mug in each hand but quickly came to a halt. "Your foot!" You had forgotten about it too. He placed the mugs back down and watched you as you lifted to check the cut. "Fuck." Taehyung said and quickly ripped a piece of kitchen towel off and handed it to you. Holding one hand against the fridge for support and the other wiping the smeared mess on your foot you watched as Taehyung quickly disappeared and reappeared again with your med kit. "Does it hurt?" He asked, rummaging through the kit. "No, it just stings a little." He pulled out some disinfectant solution and eyes you quickly up and down. Before you knew it he was stood in front of you, kneeling slightly as you felt his large hand grab a hold behind your thigh and his arm scooped you up on him. Your heart was back to its rapid pace again. He set you down on the sofa carefully and went back to grab the disinfectant and the tea mugs. He sat on the floor in front of you, soaking a cotton pad with the solution and gentle pulling your foot towards him by the ankle. "Ah, thanks goodness it doesn't seem to be deep." He said with relief, gently dabbing the cotton pad to the wound. It stung a little but it wasn't too bad. "All nice and clean, do you have cute band-aids?" "Only boring plain ones I'm afraid." Taehyung scrunched his nose. "Boo." With a band-aid beneath your foot and your longed for tea in your hands you sat next to him on the sofa. "An eventful morning." "I should become your fulltime caretaker at this point." Taehyung joked. "Not that I'd mind." "Will you pay me?" He raised his brows as well as the mug to his lips. "No way." You smiled. "Charity work is good for karma." "I already have good karma!" Taehyung protested, pretending to be offended. He laughed that trademark warm laugh that was like a smooth cackle that somehow always triggered a little firework to go off in your chest. You smiled, looking into your mug as if it'd tell you a fortune. ... you swallowed and looked up. In winter the sun rose late and had begun its voyage above the horizon, painting the sky a bright warm orange tone as it shined in through the window behind Taehyung. No. You didn't have feelings for him. You just felt some post-event shakiness and nerves and for the matter of a fact you finally got your much needed cry. It must just be your chest feeling lighter thanks to the cry. "So, do you have any planes today?" Taehyung asked. "I don't even know what day it is." "Good, I don't have plans either and it's Saturday for your information. But I do have a potential plan and that is, since I'm already here, to spend the day with you unless you have important to do's, which you shouldn't, because you need a break." He whispered towards the end. "A fmnn break." He repeated, biting his lip on the word to censor himself, but he got his point across. "A break would be nice... but when I try, I feel distressed as if I shouldn't be doing it because I'm wasting my time. I need-" "A distraction" Taehyung filled in. You nodded. "Then thou shall sit here and watch my live-in-action cooking show live from your kitchen." He said cheerfully, slapping his hands to his thighs as he stood up. "Do you have strawberries?" He asked. "In the freezer." "Yes!" He made his way to the kitchen, worth to mention is the open floor plan of your apartment so you could see him well enough from where you were seated. The soft messy curls on his head bounced with him as he walked. He dramatically pointed at you with a spatula in his hand. "Welcome." He said, speaking deeply into the spatula. "The pancake and strawberry smoothie extravaganza extraordinaire show with your host." He point his thumb and index under his chin. "Kim Taehyung." His goofiness never failed to bring a smile to your face. He went to grab his phone on the sofa table. "I need background music...." he hummed as he scrolled, spatula still in his other hand. "Jeopardy music 10 hours?" He looked up at you for an opinion. "Please no." He giggled and a calm upbeat song started playing from him phone as he put it back down and resorted to the kitchen. While frying up the first batch he was spaced out, humming on the theme tune to jeopardy anyway. You had made yourself comfortable on the sofa, lying down. The sofa smelt like him now. The same sweet comforting scent as the hug had... and his coat the numerous times he'd wrapped it around you when it was cold or shielded you from the rain with it. But speaking of memory, thinking back at those often occurring times you were also reminded about how a previous "friend" used to try and provoke you into being nervous and shy in Taehyung's presence. You'd been close for years and maybe she had an issue with that or something but she'd always find ways to tease you in way. Claiming Taehyung was giving you "looks" or "checking you out" in ways she as a self-declared expert in men deemed were of more than friendly nature. And since she as expert of men by that likely thought all men were the same, proves how reliable of a source she was. Taehyung he just.... you were close. She just wanted to make you feel embarrassed and self-conscious and make it awkward between you. You hated thinking about that. It made you overthink and feel awkward. Like an evil loop. You looked up at the breakfast chef, catching his eye as he quickly looked back down to the pancakes. You could get used to this view. Handsome man in boxers and sweater making you pancakes when you’re feeling blue, the headline in your head spelled out. The Zen experience of the kitchen fan being turned off brought stillness and Taehyung emerges with a plate of pancakes, disappearing and re-appearing again after denying your offer to help with the strawberry smoothies, plates, forks, knifes and every suitable pancake topping he had been able to locate in your kitchen. And a tube of mustard as a joke that you only kept in your fridge for when your dad came over to dinner and his weird obsession with having mustard on everything. It was probably even expired. "Enjoy your meal." "You're my hero Taehyung." You said, stabbing a pancake. "I can be your hero baby." You froze. "What?" "Haven't you heard that song?" He smiled. Oh.. "Hero? By Enrique Iglesias?" "Ah, now that you mention it-" "With the weird music video were goes on this road trip with the girl and then he's suddenly rubbing money over her body in this random stone house." "Is this what you binge on youtube at 2am when I wake up to 15 links and emotional texts." "Do not judge me!" You giggled. "I'm not, I like waking up to those texts from you. You sent them to me for a reason." Taehyung smiled shyly. "Yeah... anyhow! I have a suggestion, a proposal, a-" "Go on" "Since I'm your hero, but even I weren't. I thought maybe I could stay here a few days? Only if you want me to, of course. I just-" he became shyer. "I like to think that you seem to feel better when I'm around and you're going through a rough time so I'd like to be there for you, like you are for me." Your heart made its presence in your chest known yet again. "You should think.... because it's true." "So?" "It'd be nice." He smiled widely. "Great! But I do need to go home and pack some clothes and... some pajamas and Yeontan! He is a great comforter trust me, he has cheered me up many times when I've cried." "Cried? What were you crying about?" "Oh- uhm it's nothing, it's ok now so." He swatted it away. "Boys cry too." He joked, but it tasted weird. "But he's staying with my parents this weekend, but if you want I can go pick him up." He suggested. "It's ok, he needs time with his grandparent." Taehyung chuckled. "Well they love their grandson so I'm sure they wouldn't mind having him stay an extra day or two." -- You couldn't help but feel bad that Taehyung had to sleep on the sofa... His bag with clothes and necessities was placed in the hallway and the covers neatly hung over the backrest. "We could take turns and sleep in the bed every other day." "I told you it was fine." Taehyung insisted, again. "I just feel bad..." "Then let’s both sleep in your bed and call it even." "...." your cheeks felt hot. "See, so I'll sleep on the sofa. Don't worry about it!" What does he mean "see"? ... you were simply imagining what excuse to use as to how your head would coincidentally end up on his chest instead of your pillow. "Or we'll both sleep on the sofa, but it might be a bit cramped." He continued. "Maybe this was a bad idea..." "Hey no! No, I'm just joking. Don't feel bad ok." Taehyung's hands smoothed down your arms. "Beds are better at healing wounds on the feet too." You exhaled deeply. "Oh TaeTae..." "Doesn't this feel like we're having a pajama party or sleep over?" He smiled. "Kinda, should we build a blanket fort and watch movies?" His mouth dropped open. "I'm just kidding!" You laughed He pouted. "Oh you want to?" A nod. "You want to build a fort and watch movies?" You asked with more excitement. More enthusiastic nodding. You both cracked up laughing on the sofa together. "I'm serious though." Taehyung grinned. -- You lied awake in your bed, eyes to the ceiling. For some wild reason you both thought it would be a great idea to binge through the entire twilight saga series as a source of comedy but you only made it up to half-way through eclipse when it became too much to handle for both of you. The first movie was easy to mock and laugh at and make fun out if but once it got more serious and romantic in new moon it started getting a little awkward. To say the least, feeling flustered from watching twilight but not due to the movie itself but from the presence of Taehyung right next to you in your make-shift sofa blanket fort. You couldn't stop thinking about him. And he was out there... on your sofa, right now. And who knew if he was in cute polka dot pajamas with his hair a mess on the pillow or his tight fitted boxers and his hair tied up.. You bit your lip, crossing your legs at the visual. You remembered the first time you witnessed Taehyung tie his hair up and how it felt like being punched in the gut. It's not possible to be that attractive. "Then aren't you attracted to him?" The voice echoed in your head. Just because you find someone attractive doesn't mean you're attracted to them! Which is very much true. But Taehyung's personality was attractive too which was harder to justify the same way. And his person. And him. The entire package. You sighed. Maybe the stupidest thing you could do right now was reach for your phone and google "do I have feelings for my best friend?" Ah yes. A quiz. Maybe it wasn't so stupid after all, it'd say maybe you like him but you're not into him at the very most. Question 1, do you find them attractive. Well who wouldn't? And like mentioned it doesn't mean you're attracted to him. Yes. Question 2, do they like you? Pfft... what kind of question is that? How would you know? I don't know... or yes I guess? I mean he clearly likes you as a friend or he wouldn't be up to making all this effort for you but do they mean platonically? You ticked maybe. Question 3, Do you stalk them on social media? What the??? He's your best friend! The algorhythm shoves his posts in your face weather you like it or not. Sometimes. Question 4, Do you see them a lot? Yes. Question 5, Do you want to know more about them? You already know everything ... but what he cries about to Yeontan is something. Yes. Question 6, when you see them with somebody else who isn't considered their friend, how do you feel? Jealous. Question 7, when they're around you how do you feel? Nervous or self-conscious or nothing or i don’t know... well nervous AND a little self-conscious depending on the situation and if he's dressed or in just his boxers. Nervous. Question 8, Do you think about them? Yes. Always. Question 9, Do you laugh at their jokes? Another weird one but yes. Question 10, are they your ex? Huh? No. Definitely. A lot. You placed your phone screen down on your chest and let out a sigh. Maybe visualizing a kiss or two while in the shower was a crime after all... or was the question why were you in the first place? He was amazing in every type of way and you wanted to know if he was amazing at kissing too andmaybeinbed but you can't just ask him that or try it out, so you had to resort to imagination.... Who were you even trying to convince at this point? You liked him. Definitely. And a lot. The realization did nothing to help you fall asleep unfortunately. Another 15 minutes in dark silence passed when you suddenly heard the floorboards squeak. Maybe Taehyung was going to the bathroom or grabbing a glass of water... But the soft pats of his feet should've stopped by now... Your half open door pushed open a bit more shyly and Taehyung peaked in. Dressed in pajama bottoms, but no shirt. "You're awake." He said, whispering. "So are you." "I can't sleep..." he rubbed his arm. "I feel lonely." As if you'd deny him looking all shy and vulnerable in your door. You scooted to the side in your bed, making raise his brows in hope and anticipation, fingers fidgeting. "Come." You said, patting the bed next to you. The bed dipped gently as he lied down and you put the covers over him. He shifted onto his side, placing his head on your pillow. This was better. But since you just took an online quiz to realize you had feelings for this man currently shirtless in your bed, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly awkward. "How come you're feeling lonely?" You asked, trying to conceal your stiffness "To a start I sleep better when I get to hold something." He said shyly "Who?" You asked, intending for it to be a thought. "When I'm at home, Yeontan." Of course... "He lays on the bed and I feel less lonely and hearing him walk around or do something makes me feel soothed knowing I'm not alone... for the most part." "Are the tears you cry... tears of loneliness?" You could tell it triggered something in him. He bit his lip and nodded gently, eyes glossy. "For the most part it's just me and a pillow." He confessed. "But you could say-... it's something like that, yes." Face to face, mere inches apart. You thanked the darkness of the room that he couldn't see you blush right now but unreasonable fear that he'd somehow "sense" it in the atmosphere still worried you. You shouldn't have taken that stupid quiz it only made you start overthinking and it was probably rigged and the questions were weird so why should you listen to it? Get back to your senses! He's your best friend and you're comfortable with him! Calm down! "... I know it's dumb" Taehyung mumbled. "I know it seems like I'm this easy-going social butterfly with lots of friends who can find someone to hang out with within seconds... but when I'm alone at home, I just feel so empty. Like if nobody sees me, I don't exist. Thus when I'm alone, I'm not real anymore." "That's very philosophical, but what if someone thinks about you while you are alone? Then wouldn't you exist since somebody has you on their mind?" "But it'd be impossible for me to know and people have better things to do than walk around and daydream about me." It stung a little inside hearing him say this. "People are actually capable of multitasking you see, they can do these better things you speak of and think about you at the same time. I think about you a lot, sometimes I think about you while doing the laundry, riding the bus or taking a show- that sound's wrong." Taehyung chuckled. "But you get what I mean." "What do you mean?" He asked "That I think about you and that you aren't alone TaeTae, you never are. If you're ever feeling lonely, maybe think about me. If that helps. Or get to know yourself more, become your own friend or create an imaginary friend!" "I already do that." "Have an imaginary friend?" "Think about you." Oh. "... does it help?" You asked shyly. He shook his head. "It just makes me miss you and want to come to see you." Is it possible to experience a softer heart attack than you just did? Rather than a heart exploding in saw gore-level mess it gently poofed and became a small cloud of red feathers gently falling to the ground. Since when had you become a softie? Two hours ago you were all if there's no sex in the romance novel, it's not worth my time but now you suddenly felt an urge to ransack the romance section of the nearest library to read every cheesy romance story you could find until you could find one similar to your own. Your... own? What? With... with Taehyung? ... not that you’d visualize every male lead character as coincidentally similar to him regardless of how their looks were described in the book.... "Maybe I do need to spend some time with myself to get over it..." No! Stay here with me! "I can spend more time with you." Taehyung looked up. "I think that could benefit us both." He sounded more hopeful now. "Well, you're already here so it's also convenient." Despite the darkness you could make out the smile on his face that appeared. Cute. But wait... did Taehyung suggest he could stay here for you, because he felt lonely? He shifted slightly and the sheets rustled. His leg accidently brushed against yours and your first thought was to tangle your legs with his in a leg tackle war... but you still felt too on edge to act casual and playful with him like you normally could. You swallowed. "How long have you felt this way?" "A while... a long while. At first it was nothing but then it got worse and even more worse when I realized this one thing." "What thing was that if I may ask?" He sighed. "It's hard to explain... but, say a friend." "Mhm?" "A friend feels kinda lost, existentialism and stuff going on, doesn't like to be by himself, then he finds this person and they make him forget it all but once they’re apart it all returns to him again like they were his escape but only for as long as they were together." "Is that only with that one person or all?" "No no, only that person. And then he realizes he might be in love, or he's addicted to the person in a way, but in a good way not an obsessive way just-" "In love?" "Something like that." "You're in love?" "Huh?! What no! This was about a friend! I'm not talking about me!" "Then what did you realize Taehyung?" You could tell his mind briefly blanked in panic. "I realized that maybe I, as said friend need to find that person for me." "A person?" He nodded shyly. "You want to fall in love?" "I don't know... something like that." 'Something like that' seemed to be his catchphrase this evening. But in love? A person? His person?... that couldn't be you... could it? Did he want you to be his person? Were you his person?? The questions and confusion kept spiraling through your head, (finally) making you feel tired and exhausted. "I think... I just want to tend to someone else than myself, to not have to think so much about it and instead take care of somebody else." "Is that why you offered to stay?" "Yes and no, I want to take care of you because I am genuinely concerned and worried about you, I want to be there for you. But also, sleeping on the couch last night, hearing you tiptoe around the kitchen... it made me feel comforted." His voice sounded drowsy. "If you want... I can be your person in this scenario." You suggested. "You've already become.. person." He mumbled, sinking deeper into his half-awake state. -- You stretched your leg out one at the time, twisting your body gently and inhaling deeply into a stretch, gently batting your eyes open. You pushed a palm against the bed to get up into a seated position when something suddenly restrained you, heavy over your abdomen. Surprised, you raised the sheet to see the reminder of what you had forgotten last night. Over your waist, a lean arm with faint thin dark hairs and a few subtle veins travelling up the forearm from the large hand clung to the side of your waist... all attached to the source of warmth to your left, Taehyung. His dark locks a mess on the pillow, his bare upper body now fully on display in the daylight and his polka dot pajama pants haven travelled down a bit too far low for your sanity... Cursed be the eyes in your skull for travelling down the view. You would've noticed it sooner or later regardless, especially since your thigh was  a hair between touching it. It, being the weird relief of knowing he got some deep relaxing sleep in... but with an awkward morning surprise... and his arm wouldn't grant you freedom without you accidentally or intentionally having to wake him up. You carefully shifted to at least have your thighs at a safer distance, but your bed wasn't intended for two people, so it was easier said than done. His grip suddenly tightened and a low groan escaped him as he shifted. Why did you feel fear as if you shouldn’t be present in your bed in which he entered himself. If anyone Taehyung should be the one fearing his life right now. His thumb caressed your side gently and it felt nice... soothing. Until his eyes suddenly opened wide with a soft gasp as you felt his morning hard on grace against your thigh. Eyes that pleaded and begged you didn't notice pierced into yours and you decided to play along. "Did you sleep well?" His hand quickly retreated to your disappointment. "Sorry i... I did it in my sleep it wasn't-" "It's ok, you said you sleep well holding something and being held didn't feel too bad..." "Well, in that case, I actually slept better than I have in a really long time." He said, voice raspy and deep still. He rolled onto his back, thankfully, and placed his hand behind his head. "Did you?" "Huh?" "Did you sleep well?" "In fact, I did." You said, answering truthfully and resisting the urge to put your head on his bare chest. If only the lord or whoever would stop testing me... "Hungry?" He asked. You nodded. "Great, I'll fix something ok, but close your eyes." "Why?" "I'm shirtless." ... right. You covered your eyes with your hands and the warmth left your side as he got up and escaped the room. You slowly got up, trying to win some time for him but a few brief seconds later heard the sound of the bathroom door down the hall closing and locking. Yikes. That went smoother than expected. You set up some tea, knowing Taehyung described coffee as the closest to unlethal poison you could find, you knew he'd prefer tea or hot chocolate and that there was no use to ask. You knew him too well. It was nice having him here. And waking up with a strong arm around your waist wasn't too bad either... if only you could've let yourself enjoy the moment instead of freaking out, what if he grew cautious now and you'd never experience it again? You sighed softly, grabbing two mugs from the cupboard. After a while, the kettle clicked and you poured some water into each mug. It had been a while now... ... was he meditating in there? There was no sound of the shower, or anything, not that you were listening. Would it be weird if you asked if he was ok? Since the kettle was off the entire apartment became significantly more silent. You heard a faint mumble. "Fuck..." You swallowed. Ear please momentarily turn off, mind and imagination too please. You reached to put the kettle back on but since the water was already hot it clicked off again after 5 seconds. The bathroom door opened and you braced yourself to not look down. Luckily, he was now wearing his oversized sweater or else you would've failed immediately. He let out a soft chuckle. "I spaced out." His cheeks were flushed red and glowing. Right. "I made you some tea." -- Why were deep topics always easier to talk about at night? Were people like clams? You wake up and it opens a little and once we hit the night the clam is fully open and then closes during sleep to a new no-talk-me-I-not-have-tea-yet to ask-me-about-how-i-view-existentialism cycle? Or were nights just vulnerable with the darkness? In that case you should metaphorically speaking be an open clam all day during winter when the sun goes into its own hibernation. But here you were again, just like last night, except... 20 minutes into the sudden power outage that made your impromptu movie night come to a halt. And it was getting really cold. Bundled up under a cover together, staring at the flicker of the candle on the coffee table in silence. "I was going to offer to make you tea to warm you up but the kettle..." Taehyung said with a soft chuckle. "The power will probably come back any moment soon." He said optimistically. As you looked out of the window earlier, you noticed it wasn't just your place, but the entire block seemed to have an outage. Unusual. But the current roaring rain storm outside likely had something to do with it. The wind was aggressive, the windows shook, it whistled in a creepy way and the trees outside rustled loudly. "How about we play a game?" Taehyung suddenly suggested, breaking off the silence again. He was feeling awkward, you could tell. He always rested his hands in his lap, fidgeting or poking at the cuticles of his nails when he felt awkward. "Sure, what should we play?" His face lit up. "Questions and answers? I can start!" "Shoot!" You folded your legs and shifted to face him on the couch. "What's your ideal type." ... he... immediately went there. "Looks or personality?" Taehyung shrugged. "Both." "Well it depends on the vibe they give off of course... and mainly. I guess tall, but it's not that important, wide shoulders are always nice." You paused to think, how can I describe Taehyung without it sounding like I'm describing Taehyung. "Funny, caring, optimistic, outgoing..." "Like me!" He smiled widely. You leaned back, squinting while caressing your chin, examining him playfully. "Hmmmn" He placed his hands under his jaw, like he was displaying his face and batted his eyelashes. "Not bad, not bad." He looked disappointed. "Just not bad?" You playfully nudged his arm. "It's your turn to answer. "Fine." He pouted, crossing his arms over his chest but cracking a giggle. "I'll ask you the same question." "Very original, you." "It's called recycling, so tell me." "I did." "Huh?" "You." Your heart froze briefly before beginning to pound. "Me?" "Mn!" He said confidently. "You're not bad" he mocked. You swallowed. "I have a question about the rules." "Go on" "If I ask you anything, do you have to tell the truth?" "Yes! Nothing but. So you better tell me what you actually think rather than 'not bad'" "Is the friend you talked about actually you? And am I the person?" He tensed up, swallowing. "I guess it was obvious..." he mumbled, rubbing his arm and looking down at his lap. "I just..." he began, but reluctance interrupted him. "I understand." You said. He looked up, seemingly surprised yet still tensed "I make you feel less lonely." He nodded slowly. "Which makes sense. After all we're best friends." You continued. "... right." He looked away. "Best friends." Taehyung reached up to move his hair away from his eyes, still facing down as if he was considering something. "So... what do you think of me?" His voice sounded more serious. Where to start of course he was gorgeous! Wide shoulders, a build you'd die to slide your hands down, dark big eyes, a sweet smile with plump lips, sculpted perfectly and his honey skin. Person wise... he was someone you'd want to have as your person. "A nice person" He scoffed. "Seriously?" He seemed upset. He finally looked up, meeting your gaze. There was a sparkle in his eye. The warm light from the candle made his face glow even more. "I mean person as in the person you have, a your-person" "A nice your-person?" He tilted his head. "You told me yesterday in bed that you can feel like someone is your person because they bring you comfort and make all your problems go away and you feel better just by being in their presence! A nice that-type-of-person." "But I was talking about you!" He pleaded "And now I'm talking about you." "You are my person, what do you mean?" He asked, placing emphasis on "my" "That you're my person too. Am I being unclear?" "No, not at all. I just wanted to hear you say it." "So you tricked me?" You scoffed. "Not really." He leaned closer. "But maybe I set you up and you simply walked into my trap." "So now what? We're just going to sit here in denial over the fact that we both admitted to being each other's person?" You questioned, feeling slightly panicky and picking at your nails. Was this platonic or not? "We don't have to" he grinned. "But to be clear, I'm not talking about you being my person as in my other half, my best friend type person, even though you are that too bit this isn't it." "Are you trying to tell me that you're in love with me?" He tensed up again. Fuck it. "Then just say it, stop confusing me with your riddles and metaphors and I won't do the same. Just tell me-" His hand pressed against the back of your head as he leaned in almost all the way. He caressed the back of your head gently and your gaze dropped to his soft pink lips with the tiny freckle to the side. You leaned in close enough to brush a gentle touch before Taehyung pressed you closer for your lips to finally collide. It started off desperate yet a little shy. You pressed back, grabbing at his sides and the kiss deepened. Your heart was pounding. Never did you expect he'd just go for it and kiss you when you showed some bold courage towards him but you didn’t have a slightest regret because he tasted so good against your mouth. His plump pink lips so passionate, so needy but also so gentle and triggering an explosion in your chest. Taehyung leaned over you, making you lay down on the couch as he crawled on top and it turned into an even wilder heated make out. Your hand tangled into his hair, his hand rubbed against the side of your waist under your top. Fearing it'd be the first, last and only, you wanted every single piece of this moment you could have. Unintentional, his touch triggered a soft moan to escape your throat, which subsequently triggered a groan from Taehyung. Making a sound like that with his voice should be illegal. It did things to you, things you didn't want to confess. But the box of secret confessions was torn open within seconds as Taehyung, a heavy breathing mess suddenly pulled away from your lips and landed by your ear, exhaling deeply. "Fuck, I'm hard." He groaned and you knew the box was flying out the windows with your filthy confession floating aimlessly around for him to hear but all you managed to stutter out was a choked "huh?" "If you knew how long I've wanted you for." He whispered. "How scared I've been of being rejected because I knew it'd shatter me." The hopeless romantic you knew he was made his attendance known. "A friend?" You chuckled. "Maybe I set myself up with that one, I admit. But I was hoping you'd catch on." He chuckled, still breathless. He planted a kiss against your neck. Were you about to have sex? Would it lead to that? Did you mind? Certainly not... Taehyung pushed up slightly, looking down at you. "May I?" You nodded and he smiled widely, pressing a kiss to your lips. Shifting, he easily found his place between your thighs and grinded up against you slowly with pressure, causing both of you to exhale into a sweet needy moan. Your feelings felt scattered all over the place but this wasn't the time to pick them up. You wanted to let go, to surrender, just for this moment. Let go of everything clawing at your back, clouding the sunny skies and draining you. There is nothing more exhausting than smiling pretending everything is ok while whatever inflated issue in beast form is clawing its nails across your back and the scars sting like lemon juice was just rubbed all over you, feeling disgusting and sticky, let alone in pain and with a sore back from the held tension. He grinded again, sensually this time as the tip of his nose travelled up your neck, inhaling your sweet scent. "Mmm" he hummed softly. Your hand made its way to his nape as he settled by your neck. "I could fall asleep here." He chuckled. "Right here in your neck, it's so warm and smells so nice. It's more effective than lavender." "Are you enchanted by my odor?" He laughed his trademark bubble laugh. "I wish you knew how much fun you are." He squeezed you, rubbing up firmer to you with a desperate grunt. "Fuck I can't take it anymore." He stood on his knees, crossing his arms in front of him and grabbing the hem of his sweater, pulling it up and off, exposing his soft skin and toned chest as it fell to the floor. His hand reached for the button on his pants but before making it to the zipper his attention returned back to you with his hands sliding up under your top and pulling it up over your head. "I just want to make sure again... is it ok?" He asked, eyes big. "Yes, touch me, kiss me, do whatever you want just don’t leave the couch. At least not without me." He smirked at this, finally able to surrender to his greed. Taehyung reached for the waistline of your pants, unbuttoning, unzipping and pulling them down your hips with your underwear going off with them. His fingers softly rakes over your skin as he travelled down your legs, your hips lifted to assist him and then they were tossed onto the floor. He reached for his own zipper again but you sat up, quickly swatting his hand away and reaching for it yourself. He was on his knees between your thighs. You pulled them down, sliding your hands over his soft curved hips, revealing his tight fitted boxers with little to any space left for his hard on. You swallowed. He blushed. Relieved that Taehyung took over the lead again you lied back down as his hands gently pushed you back, slipping the bra straps off your shoulders and reaching behind you to unhook and free you from your final piece of clothing. But with this one he wasn't in a rush. He slowly tugged at the lacey fabric, revealing your chest to him as he bit his lip. "Wow." He mumbled and his patience was gone. One hand grabbed your left boob, feeling it and squeezing it softly as the other slipped into his boxer to touch himself. He whimpered, seemingly trembling as a result of his desperation and the discomfort he must be feeling in those tight pair of... he let go of your boob, quickly pulling his boxers down and himself out. You felt your core twist and ache and his boxers joined the pile of clothes on the floor. Taehyung fell forward onto all fours on top of you. Fully exposed, fully erect and a full sight to take in in the dim light in the dark. Distracted and eyes travelling all over him, his hand suddenly cupped your chin, tilting it up for you to face him. His nose graced over yours in a sweet eskimo kiss before his lips, just as gently pressed to yours. Taehyung's hand slid down your neck, your chest and down until he found himself. Your toes curled as you felt his touch where you wanted him the most in this moment, the tip of him slowly sliding up and down your slit, triggering your need even more. Taehyung let out a shaky exhale. His lips were parted and eyes staring right down at your exposed curves. He positioned himself, slowly sliding the tip in, just to feel... just to get some urgent relief... he leaned his head back and his hands landed a tight grip of your waist. He couldn't take it anymore. Slowly and carefully he began to push. Making sure by studying your every expression that he wasn't hurting you and that it felt good. A sweet whimper escaped you, causing him to grin in delight as he pushed in deeper. He was thick... the gentle stretch he caused felt amazing and you couldn't stop yourself from clenching around him, making him moan and managing to make you even wetter just by the sound. With a soft grunt he slipped in all the way. Giving you a moment to adjust to his size, he moved his hand up to caress your cheek with the back of his hand. His touch felt like magic. Like a gentle feather smoothing over your cheek, but slender and strong, with long dainty beautiful fingers. You leaned into his touch. "Does it feel ok?" He whispered. You gave a reassuring nod. He pulled his hips back and thrusted back in, not too soft and not too hard he picked up a slow but deep rhythm for his movements. Your hands felt their way up and across his back, studying every curve and where he naturally flexed as he moved. His hands were firmly holding you in place at the waist, every desperate exhale and every shaky inhale sending almost an ASMR like tingle down your spine via your ear until your name suddenly slipped his lips. Most people feel a fuzzy like feeling inside hearing their proper name be called but this... this was unlike no other time. His deep voice, following a whimper, exhaling your name like a magic spell and it fading into a shiver-causing moan. To put it simply it was the sexiest thing you've ever heard and it activated a whole new part within you that felt foreign but so so so good. Like your blood had suddenly turned into liquid gold, all happy hormones releasing in a firework spelling the world "nothing else matters" in an imaginary sky. You wrapped your arms tighter around him, moaning his name out felt liberating. And it clearly triggered an equal reaction. His cheeks were already flushed and his eyes went wide. He smirked, growing more desperate, fucking your harder and deeper, chasing release. "Please cum for me." He whispered, pleading. "Please." He didn't need to place a formal request, you were already loosing yourself. The only sound echoing in the darkness being the roaring wind and rain along with your breaths and groans and the sound of his hips and your thighs. Wet, heavenly sounds to you. His sweet moans, his broad back, his dick... everything about him made you feel euphoric. The ever building tension below, the sweat forming on his forehead... "I'm gonna cum" he whimpered. Thinking your body couldn't possibly react stronger to him than it already was, it did. The thrusts grew faster, grunts louder and you could feel yourself leak even more. Back arching, tension growing... it felt even tighter now... you could feel him so well, every movement until you suddenly came un-done with a loud whimper to his ear, setting him off into his own orgasm, cumming deep inside with a string of "oh"s and groans, gritting his teeth together and tensing his face in a greedy expression. He slowed down to a halt, remaining inside, breathless on top of you. The light on the sofa table had reached its end and the faint scent of smoke filled the air as the flame went out, making the room completely pitch black. Taehyung's face nuzzled softly against your neck, inhaling the scent of you deeply  and being soothed. "Wow." He coughed, followed by a groan. "Wow." You repeated, happy that the light went out so he couldn’t see your flushed face. "You ok?" He whispered, vulnerability present in his voice. "I didn't go to hard right?" "It was amazing." He let out a breath of release and an awkward chuckle. "I'll pull out.." he said shyly, moving his hips back slowly and gently, slipping out. To your surprise, Taehyung climbed off of you, standing on his feet. The cold air made your nipples ache and your skin shiver. You wanted your human blanket and source of heat back. But you didn’t have to wait for long. A pair of strong arms slid in under you, lifting you up with ease. "The sofa is too tiny." He carried you into your bedroom, gently putting you back down on the bed and laying down on his side next to you, pulling you close to his chest where his heart was still pounding hard. He hugged you tight, caressing the back of your head. His lips pressed against the crown of your head gently. "My good girl." He whispered, sounding almost proud. Your cheeks burned and a weird sense to cry bubbled up but you quickly swallowed it and hugged him tighter, burying your face against his chest. Never had you thought being called a good girl, specifically "Taehyung's" good girl would be able to move you to tears. But maybe it's what you needed to hear, mixed with the hormonal serotonin cocktail your body just released upon you. "You'll always have me." He nuzzled his nose in your hair. With a click the power came back on, including your pink hue nightstand lamp next to the bed. Taehyung's cheeks were deeply flushed, amplified by the flattering pink light cast over him. You giggled.   Had this really just happened? Because it felt so right. Or was it just the relief of sex? But masturbating had never made you feel this emotional before... You looked up at Taehyung's face again and he smiled softly, his hand caressing your bare back up and down. It was definitely him.

[jamestrmtx]

Wish Upon a Night Sky - [Beastars | Various x Reader]

[Female, Sheep Reader | Slow Burn]

Summary:

After calling upon the decision to test the waters between carnivores and herbivores, things at Cherryton Academy turn far more tense than they already were. Unsurprisingly, there are those who poke fun at the decision, both with good and bad reasons at hand. Calling the academy out on such high of a risk's understandable, but mocking carnivores for making friends with their opposites isn't.

Having been sheltered through seventeen years of homeschooling and the rigid rule of never going out at night, you far from expect being allowed to attend there after your eighteenth birthday. Regardless, you don't plan on cowering back. Your want to expose yourself to the real world, meet new people, and live through new experiences outweighs that fear, transforming it into strength.

Act One | Man's Best Friend

[Previous] | [Next]

Already messy files almost end up scattered on the floor, yet you manage to salvage them right on time. Your hands and legs shake just as fast as your heart beats; even breathing is a challenge with how stressed your mind is. Being around a large number of people wasn't the norm in your home; you'd been used to being a close family of six since you were born, and nothing more. Spending time with others beyond relatives was a rarity, as was the idea and agreement of having you study your final year in Cherryton -- far outside the safety of your home. Now that you're eighteen and near to graduating, your family's given you three simple rules to follow: never step out of campus at night, never join acting, and never show daintiness. All three of them emphasize the word 'never'; not a single space for protest or bargain is left in those rules. You knew the consequences of going out at night, as well as the risks of calling forth unwanted attention by choosing not to dress how you were told and letting any sort of bubbly nature out. Being forbidden to join acting was by far the only thing they hadn't explained to you by full.

"Your dorm is through here," Jack says, pointing with his eyes and snout over to a busy hallway.

While the person giving you the tour isn't exactly the type you were warned of before being admitted into this school, he isn't exactly of your type either, but more of a happy medium between the two: a dog. Not quite a carnivore and not quite a herbivore, he's what you learned to be an omnivore -- a kind you were taught to be wary of just as much as a wolf or a lion. Even then, his presence is about as warm and welcoming as sun rays on a cold, winter day, and you find it hard not to smile when he continues to show you around the place. He only ever stops when he sees he's left you far behind, a product of you losing yourself in your thoughts and the new world around you. 

His excitement is one you wish you could manifest just as much as him, though the reminder of how you had to behave at this school leads you to brush and bury those ideas away and hold yourself back.

"Are you okay?"

Jack's question paired up with his careful tone help pull you out of your daydreaming. How concerned he looks makes you take note of the expression you're carrying. Oftentimes, you scrunched up your snout and furrowed your brow -- whenever you became lost in thought, mostly. To any outsider like him, it would seem as if though you're bothered by something, so you hurry in your reply, words leaving you in a rush, "I'm okay." Your smile returns as you meet his eyes. "I just… I got caught up with something else."

"Nervous about staying here?"

"About everything, honestly."

He lets out a laugh at that, and his gaze brightens as he motions for you to follow him once more.

Your next destination is what appears to be the rooms you were informed of at the beginning of your visit -- judging by the rows of doors laid around, along with one of them left open, displaying a bunk bed in the background. There's a student by the dresser, combing her fur without so much as bothering to look at you or Jack. She's far too focused on her brushing to acknowledge she's left the room visible to those wandering outside, though -- with her being a wolf -- you assume she's confident in herself. Or you believe so, at the very least, as based on the rumours your parents and every other family member taught you.

You halt when you notice Jack stops right by that door and see him gesture over with his head for you to step inside. 

"Is this allowed?" you blurt out, rushing to cover up not a minute after that question leaves your mouth. "O- Oh gosh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it like that."

"It's alright," he says, chuckling. "I know you're homeschooled, so if you have any questions about how things work here, feel free to ask me!" He stops for a moment and seems to recall something along the way. "And you can come over to my place, too, if you need more help with showing you around."

"How bold of you to invite a girl into the boys' dorm, Jack." 

A feminine voice comes from behind him, and -- soon after -- the wolf from earlier appears next to the dog. She directs a cheeky grin at him, then a friendlier smile at you. "You're my roommate, aren't you?" she says, nodding her head in the direction of your dorm. "What are you standing there for? I want to get to know you!" She sounds about twice as cheerful as Jack acts. "I was told about your arrival almost three whole months ago, so the wait has been long enough."

"...You're Juno?" you ask, making memory of the list handed over to you just a few hours ago. 

She nods, eyes softening. "(Y/N), right? It's... nice to have a herbivore who won't look for a change of dorms the second she sees me."

Already feeling guilty, you can only hope she hadn't heard you earlier ago. It was a known fact you tended to speak without thinking sometimes (if not, most of the time), so you make a mental note out of it and set up a goal to improve on that throughout the rest of the year. You thank Jack and say your goodbyes before following her into the room.

At the sound of the door closing, you breathe a sigh of relief with the knowledge you've made it this far without screwing up too badly. The next thing in mind is to try sparking up some conversation, but only when you make enough mental preparation for it -- aware your thoughts might run haywire and tactless again. "But... Why would they do that? Isn't it normal at this school?"

Juno shows you around the room and stops next to one of the beds, bottom one being the only one out of all the others around to have some of her possessions settled down on it. "It's allowed," she replies and continues with, "And though it's not too uncommon for both carnivores and herbivores to be placed together... Things got a lot more tense after a student's passing." Her ears droop along with her tail, and a hint of gloom clashes with her friendly demeanor. "That's why you're the only other woman in this room, and why I…" Her body shudders as she lets out a breath. "Why I try not to walk alone in the halls anymore." She takes another breath and lets it out with a huff. A hushed swoon then seems to take her over, replacing her sadness about as quickly as her ears go back up. "Although... I guess I wouldn't have met someone wonderful, if some students hadn't cornered me for being a carnivore not long after I arrived here."

The wolf sighs, then faces you with droopy eyelids and a softer smile. "Tell me, (Y/N)... Have you ever fallen in love? It's the most incredible feeling I can describe!" She sits down on the bottom bed, though she scoots aside, leaving you some space next to her. "They say your last year at school's the last chance you have for experiencing an emotion so strong, but I like to believe it will carry on as long as your love is powerful enough for it!"

While you're a bit lost as to what point she's trying to make, you smile and nod along as you wait for her to continue speaking. 

After all, having two friends at the beginning of your final school year didn't sound like a bad idea. Hopefully, your lonely days would start to change; your conversation with Jack and your current one with Juno have been -- without much exaggeration -- the most interaction you've had during all your eighteen years of living. Knowing you were finally free to meet as many people as you'd want as well as study over brand-new things and the relationships between both kinds made your worries and doubts more than worthwhile. No matter how often your family and distant acquaintances warned you otherwise, you needed to grow, learn, explore, and see more outside what was taught to you at home. 

You hear Juno out until she asks if you have a special someone yourself; the question turns out to be a bit of a difficult one to answer with how little people you knew to this day. So far, the only experience you remember similar to that of having a crush on someone was by reading stories of adventure and challenge when you were younger. All of these were confiscated by your family whenever you gained too many ideas, fell for a character, or whenever a book so much as mentioned the word carnivore between its pages -- in a light aside from that of hostile and negative.

Although it feels like nothing short of wishful thinking, you hope your current circumstances change soon with the new path being offered out to you; in that, you carry a strong and unshakable desire over.

And, who knows? 

Maybe one day you'd be able to sneak out and watch the night sky, too -- and with a friend or two by your side, preferably.

"I don't, but…" You trail off to consider her question; overwhelmed by the changes and influenced by her energetic self, you find it hard not to follow along with her. "I wouldn't mind having one -- if that opportunity ever came around!"

[Previous] | [Next]

[kozumekenza]

house of memories :: four

:: kageyama tobio x f!reader :: playlist :: masterlist ::

:: taglist: open :: wc: 2.3k ::

the last you had heard of kageyama tobio, he was following his grandfather’s footsteps and leaving you behind to join the syndicate. a chance meeting throws him back into your life, along with all of the memories.

tw: mafia elements, profanity, blood, gunshot wound, kidnapping, implied drug use (marijuana)

a/n: posting an hour early :)

“I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Simple words, and predictable ones, but his heart still hurts. He knew this, he knew it was coming, he knew what you would say, he prepared himself for it, so why does it feel like his world is crashing down? He’s leaving you, but he guesses you’re leaving him first. The thought brings him comfort. He didn’t want to involve you in this, as much as it hurts watching you walk away. He should be thankful that you’re breaking his heart and not the other way around. He should be thankful that you’ll hopefully hold this against him for the rest of his life. He should be thankful that you will never know the cold steel of a gun, the glint of an attacker’s knife. 

You’re long gone by now, probably tucked into bed. He’s right where you left him, although he is no longer staring at the spot where you were standing. Now, he’s watching the moonlight on the water. The world looks cast in melancholy blue; a beautiful setting for his final night and a tearful goodbye.

He is thankful for this last chance to see you; to memorize your features and commit them all to memory. He is thankful for the tears on his face, as he will not be allowed to show them in the future. He is thankful for all the emotions that he is currently feeling; he savors them, knowing that when he wakes up tomorrow, they will be long gone; suppressed forever. 

---

You’re up and running before you even have the chance to fully grasp the situation at hand. There’s blood, so much blood; Miwa’s calling to you, but you can’t hear her. There’s only the pounding of your heart in your ears and the four years worth of schooling you’ve received; racking your brain for any and all useful information. 

“I need all the medical supplies you have; a first aid kit, bandages, forceps, scissors.” You pray that Miwa is listening, that your voice is projecting. “I know we probably can’t take him to the hospital, but if you have a doctor you normally see for stuff like this, call them.”

You press your hands to the wound. From what you can tell, it’s a bullet wound towards the bottom left of Kageyama’s chest. His heart is still beating and his breathing is slow, but steady, and you allow yourself a moment to be thankful that his lung hasn't collapsed. You focus on your next steps: stopping the bleeding, fully assessing the severity of the wound, and stabilizing Kageyama somewhere that isn’t the foyer’s floor. 

Miwa drops down next to you with what you hope are sterile rags. “I called our doctor, she’ll be here soon.” She unwraps the plastic covering and hands you the rags, and you press them to Kageyama’s chest. “If we can just stop the bleeding, he’ll be fine.”

You can’t help but shiver at the thought that this isn’t the first time something like this has happened. 

---

Kageyama Tobio is used to being shot at, but the bullets rarely meet their mark. Unfortunately, due to his own stupidity, this one does. 

He curses as he runs to his car and jams the keys into the ignition. The fleeting thought that the blood will be a pain to get out of the seats crosses his mind, but he shakes his head and it’s gone. His only goal now is to get back to the penthouse. Miwa will know what to do. 

When he stumbles in, feeling faint, his exhausted brain short-circuits at the sight of you. He falls to the floor as his vision blurs, feeling slightly thankful that if he dies tonight, at least the last thing he saw was you.

---

He knows he’s dreaming, that he’s drifting in and out of consciousness. He dreams of his childhood spent by your side, he dreams of your final goodbye. Even when he thinks he’s awake, he knows he must be dreaming, because you’re here, holding his hand and sitting by his side. He tries to reach out, to brush the tears off of your cheeks, but he can’t. He feels as if he’s failed you again.

---

The doctor is nice, a woman in her late twenties named Kiyoko. She performs her duties clinically, allowing you to help where you can and reassuring Miwa that everything will be fine. When the bullet is finally removed and Kageyama is stitched up, you collapse into a chair next to his bed.

You watch him carefully as Miwa flits around the penthouse, cleaning up and moving around Kageyama’s appointments for the next few weeks to allow him time to recover. You hold his hand in your own and rest your head on the side of the bed.

You were terrified tonight, you’ll admit it. You aren’t quite sure how you kept your cool and focused on the task at hand. You’re thankful that he is still breathing, that his heart is still beating. 

If you hadn’t walked away, would this be the norm for you? Would you be accustomed to Kageyama coming home bleeding and half-dead? You don’t know how you would cope in a situation like that, unsure if Kageyama would come home in one piece or even come home at all. The thought terrifies you; knowing that for these past four years, there were times where he was injured and you had no clue, and that he will most likely continue to get hurt in the future.

Is it better or worse to be here for it, to be aware? Is it better to know and be there for him while enduring the pain of it all, or is it better to be blissfully unaware, back to your normal life where you know his job is a risk, but you aren’t involved?

---

The man is thrilled at all of the information contained in a tiny computer file. Better than he ever could have imagined; giving him the ability to hurt his enemy is the worst possible way - through the people he cares about. 

It’s a low blow, even in this world, but what can he do? He’s run out of options. His enemy’s reign over Tokyo has encroached too far into his own territory, and has been occurring for far too long. 

You’re an easy target; far better than attempting anything with his sister. She has the knowledge and power of the underworld to wield against him, but you, you, are perfect. No skills with a weapon, no comprehension of how things work in this world. 

An innocent, perfect girl for him to corrupt. 

He grins at the thought. 

---

When Kageyama’s eyes finally open in the early hours of the morning, you almost burst into tears. You knew that he was physically fine; the wound would hurt, but was stitched and bandaged and fixed. You didn’t know how it would take a toll on the rest of his body. Some people suffer traumatic injuries and don’t wake up for days, months, years, ever. 

You grin as Kageyama slowly opens his eyes, assessing the room around him. 

“Y/n?” His voice is weak, but he’s awake. Alive. 

“Yeah?” You’re still holding his hand, leaning on your arm as you reach for his forehead to check his body temperature.

“You’re here.”

He’s clearly still a little out of it, and you can tell that his brain is trying to piece together the picture of you before him. You laugh a little before you answer, “Of course I’m here. Where else would I be?”

His face is blank and he’s completely impassive when he says, “Not here.”

Miwa walks in to you laughing at Kageyama, who clearly does not understand why you’re laughing at him. She rushes over to him when she sees that he’s awake, gently hugging him.

“Tobio, thank god you’re alright. I was so fucking worried about you, you little shit.” She slaps his shoulder lightly, causing him to wince. 

You step away to give them some privacy, heading out to get some water and pain meds from the kitchen, but as you cross the threshold of the bedroom, Kageyama speaks up. “Y/n, are you leaving?”

The ache in his voice is obvious, and it sends a pang to your heart. “I’m just going to get some water and medication for you.”

He’s smiling a little when he turns back to Miwa. “Okay, good.”

---

The next few weeks are fine, generally speaking. You spend the majority of your time at Kageyama’s penthouse, watching over his recovery and hanging out with Miwa. Hana becomes a bit suspicious when she notices you’re away from home more than you’re there, but you simply say that you met an old friend at the club that night and you’ve been hanging out with them. It’s not necessarily a lie, and she buys it regardless; she’s so busy with Ushijima and school that you doubt she really notices how much you’re missing anyway. 

Most days, Miwa or Kageyama’s driver picks you up from the university in the afternoon, and you spend the rest of your evening in the penthouse. Sometimes, you sit by Kageyama’s bed and do homework while he rests, which most of the time ends up being a fight to get him to stay in bed while he insists he’s well enough to work. Other days, mostly when Kageyama is too tired to put up much of a fight, you hang out with Miwa, watching movies or cooking dinner together. 

It surprises you, just how easily you fit into their lives. Miwa says so as well, telling you that it has to be fate; there’s no way that someone could adjust to their lifestyle as quickly and as well as you do. You spend a lot of time thinking; you don’t mind being with them, in fact, you cherish your time at the penthouse. Kageyama’s job doesn’t phase you as much anymore. You don’t think about it when you spend time with him or Miwa, instead, you think about how appreciative you are for their roles in your life. 

Most recently, you’ve started helping Miwa with a task she deems “Mission: Impossible”. Apparently, Kageyama is disastrous when it comes to organization, so she’s taking the opportunity of him being bedridden to organize his office and the rest of the house. You don’t bat an eye when you and Miwa categorize what she refers to as the “weapons closet” or even when you come across files of all the hits that Kageyama has ever put out. The only thing that even makes you pause is when you come across Kageyama’s secret stash of marijuana.

“Really?” You hold the plastic bag up in one hand, your other hand on your hip. “Blunts?”

Kageyama just groans, sitting up. “If you and Miwa weren’t going through all my shit, you never would’ve found it.”

“Your shit is a mess! When was the last time you organized anything in this house?”

Kageyama brings his hand up, scratching the back of his hand. “Uh, never?”

“I can’t believe you.” You collapse onto the chair next to his bed, tossing the bag to him. “Now where’s the lighter?”

---

When Kageyama is finally cleared by Kiyoko to go back to work, you think that you won’t be seeing him and Miwa as often. You assume that they’ll be busy with whatever it is they do normally, so it comes as a surprise when you see Kageyama waiting for you after your last class. 

He’s leaning on a black McLaren Artura, turned away from you as he talks on the phone. You stop on the steps of your lab building, pausing to look at him while he’s not paying attention. After seeing him in sweats and t-shirts with messy hair for weeks while he recovered, it shocks you to see him in formal attire again. The late fall chill embraces you as you survey the black jeans and dark jacket, the wind-whipped hair and gold chain peeking out from beneath his collar. It’s times like these when your breath fully leaves you at how attractive Kageyama is. He’s receiving many stares, whether it’s from the boys checking out his car or the girls checking out him. He remains oblivious as always, talking pointedly into the phone until he spots you. 

He hangs up and opens the Artura’s door for you when you approach. You can feel the whispers surrounding you, but you ignore them in favor of sticking your chilling fingers in front of the car’s heat vent. Kageyama starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

“I’m surprised to see you today. I thought you would’ve been busy on your first day back.”

He shrugs, giving a noncommittal hum. “It was mostly boring shit, meetings and such. I was completely over it by noon, so Miwa took over the last few for me.”

“You’re done already?” It’s only four in the afternoon, and you know he normally works much, much later than that.

“Done for now. I’ll go into the club later tonight to check on a few things, but that’s at least interesting.”

“Hm.” Looking out the window, you notice that you’re not heading towards the penthouse. “Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you out.”

You choke on air; as someone with Kageyama’s career, this could mean one of two things. “O-on a date?”

“Yeah,” he glances at you, “what else would that mean?”

“You don’t want to know what I was thinking.”

“Damn, y/n, I’m not going to kill you.” The wry smile on his face warns you of his upcoming words. “That would get blood on my seats.”

“Haha.” You roll your eyes and punch him lightly on the shoulder. “But really, you’re taking me out on a date? You didn’t even ask.”

“Well it’s more of a ‘thank you for nursing me back from the dead and helping Miwa’ date, but it can also be a real date, if you want that.”

The slight nervousness in his voice makes you grin. Only Kageyama could shoot someone in cold blood and be afraid to ask a girl out. “Okay.”

You watch as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye, a sly smile on his face. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

taglist: @lilith412426​ @itoshibaby​ @wallywaffle​ 

[the-reaper-of-maidens]

Arrival

YEET, some Alcina x OC stuff, because I’m horrible with x Reader stuff. I suppose chronologically, this is the first in my Alcina x OC stories, since this is how my OC met the tall vampire lady~ It kinda ends a bit abruptly, but I wanted the smut to be its own chapter, lol. I know I have the good lady far nicer in this than she really is, but she’s kinda mentally flipped upside down with this nutty OC~ I hope I did the tall vampire lady justice with this, regardless!

TW: mentions of self harm, homophobia implied

The diminutive woman arrived at the castle grounds. Her brown eyes were weary and showed her depression. Her brunette hair was long, flowing freely in the cold breeze, and her jeans were doing a poor job keeping her legs from freezing. She had some nose and ear piercings, so they were especially cold. She shivered and pulled her bomber jacket tighter as she went in, adjusting her duffle bag. She was a bit of a horror blogger, though she ironically was scared easily. Recently, she ended her blog, figuring it was best to end while she was at her peak, so she didn’t tell anyone about her trip to this haunting castle that was reported to be sites of vicious attacks.

Really, the blogger was hoping for one more fright before moving on from her fame, or maybe she wanted to end her suffering, so she hoped to see a monster. Though she was well-liked online, her personal life was… awful, to put it lightly. The blogger certainly felt unsettled, taking a look at the foyer. She thought it was weird that the doors were totally unlocked, though she figured it was different cultural norms, since she was American.

And then… she saw one of them. The blogger started sweating as the witch stepped towards her, she didn’t think anyone still lived here. The tiny woman stepped back, trying not to wig out as the witch continued her creeping. She whipped her head around when she heard another door open, and that was when she started running, dropping her bag.

She didn’t know where she was going, she just wanted to get away from them while trying to explore what the castle had to offer, despite her better judgement. Maybe she should have just turned tail when she saw the witch…

“Well, well… what an interesting visitor we have here,” a low, but darkly alluring voice called out, its owner crouching through a doorway.

The blogger froze like a deer in headlights as she saw what seemed to be an enormous woman towering over her. This woman must have been twice her height. Great, she thought, I have that creepy woman after my tail and now there’s this… hulking piece of… hotness. The blogger blushed a bit, this woman was just stunning, and she couldn’t help but get the hots for her despite being pretty terrified right about now. “S...sorry,” she finally managed to croak out. “I just got curious is all. I’ll just grab my stuff and leave now if you want.”

“How adorable, thinking you can just break in and enter someone’s house willy-nilly,” Lady Alcina Dimitrescu giggled charmingly and sinisterly as she eyed the petite woman, baring her claws. Of course, she felt it was a bit unfair for this especially tiny woman to go down easily; she usually liked giving her prey a fighting chance, it made the hunt all the more exciting. “I’ll give you a chance to run. If you make it out the door before my daughters or I can catch you, you’re free to go~”

Instead of running, though… the blogger just screamed and went down on her knees, cowering in fear. Her stomach was in knots, and she almost felt her breakfast wanting to come back up as she prepared herself for the worst.

The mutant tilted her head in curiosity and retracted her claws. Normally, most people took the chance to run off, but this one thought giving up and staying was a good idea. Alcina was suddenly interested in this strange human. “Hmm… you know what, I’ll call off my daughters. You pique my interest, how about we chat over lunch?”

The blogger was still shaking, though she mustered up the courage to open up her eyes. Though still anxious, she did relax a bit when she realized she was still unharmed. “I… yeah, sure. Lunch sounds good,” she stood up on shaky legs, unzipping her bomber jacket a bit. The adrenaline really heated up her body. Her stomach still felt a bit nauseous, though, so the thought of food didn’t sound appealing to the blogger at the moment.

“Trust me, I’ll make sure my daughters won’t bite. How about you go make yourself… comfortable in the meantime?”

Naturally, the blogger was still on high alert for the next few hours. She looked at her phone, tempted to make a blog post about all that happened, but she decided against it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be back in the limelight again… if she wanted to be criticized by her family again. She didn’t have any friends, really, so it wasn’t like she had anyone that would worry about her. She sighed, and Alcina caught the pained look on the blogger’s face.

“So… what brought you to my humble abode?”

“Oh! Sorry! Sorry…” the blogger fretted a bit. “Like I said, I got curious. I also used to run a blog about all sorts of scary monsters and stuff.” Of course, this was all lost on the vampire lady, so the blogger explained more. “A blog is kinda like a digital journal entry, you see. You write it up on your computer and post it up and everyone gets to see what you wrote. Kinda like a bulletin board, but it’s on the Internet.”

“And you… used to?”

“I… yeah. I just wanted to scare people about the things I write about, I didn’t want to be famous. But it happened, and I felt like I had to go along with the ride. Eventually, my folks found out. They’re… not the most supportive,” the blogger divulged. “So ending the blog was a little bit of panic and mostly my choice, because I knew I can’t handle juggling family issues and the blog.”

The mutant woman tsked a bit, feeling an odd sense of pity for the blogger. “How shameful of your family. Do they not have their own business to tend to?”

“Like hell that I care. I cut them off after I stopped blogging. I’ve got enough money to travel around as I please, so… if I’m stuck where I’m misunderstood and demonized, I can just fly off,” and the blogger had anger flash in her eyes for a second, which surprised the mutant vampire. “Imagine being in hillbilly hell, where everyone is a churchgoing fanatic, and you don’t fit what they want you to be. I don’t have friends. My family hates me because of who I love… the guys laugh, and the women? Well, they’re grossed out because I’m a woman and I’m... I’m not supposed to love women.”

“Ah, so you escaped when you finally had the chance,” Alcina wasn’t stupid, piecing together that the smaller woman was waiting for the funds to get out. It was admittedly rather admirable to the vampire, knowing that someone freed themselves of their shackles.

“It took a few years… but you can bet I hauled ass the second I reached my goal. Still, though… I wake up every day, and I’m dragged down by my self-hate. Like my demons follow me wherever I go, and it’d be nice if I can escape for real.”

Alcina shifted a bit, and she grinned mysteriously. “I know a way, if you’re willing to stay for the night,” she offered, hoping the blogger would accept. Perhaps this woman could give her her fix, since it had been a long while since Alcina had any fun in her private quarters. Though she had her witches, she really did see the three as her daughters… she just couldn’t see herself doing such an act with any of them.

The blogger blushed a bright red, trying to decipher what this extremely tall vampire lady meant by that. “...Are you asking me to sleep with you?” she sniped in. She wouldn’t mind it, per se, but she was certainly surprised at the proposal.

“I can tell in your body language, you’re in love with me~ Luckily for you, I don’t care what’s in someone’s pants or how they identify as when I put them to bed. All they need to do… is be a good plaything for me,” Alcina giggled seductively, tossing away any subtlety she might have had.

“I… hold on, just a sec,” the blogger ran off to the nearest bathroom to compose herself. She felt herself flush with heat as she took off her jacket. “Don’t… do anything stupid,” she told herself in the mirror as she washed her face with ice cold water. She was wracked with nerves, but she just couldn’t pass this up. Well, what’s the worst that can happen? It’s not like anyone back home cared about me, she thought to herself. The blogger took a deep breath to compose herself as she zipped her jacket back up and she went back out, her emotions put into check for now. “Sure, I’d like to stay for the night,” the blogger grinned awkwardly when she returned, fidgeting a bit.

“Trust me, you have nothing to fear,” Alcina purred, putting a hand on the blogger’s cheek. Of course, decades of experience meant she knew how to not crush the poor thing during their fun. This woman must have been half her size, if the height difference was anything to go by. “When you’re as tall as I am, you simply have no choice but to... adapt.”

“Hehe, lucky me. I’ve never… did any of that, obviously,” the blogger admitted, blushing as she shifted her weight between her feet.

“Oh? So you’re saying that you’re a maiden?” Alcina was definitely hooked now, leaning forward a bit. Having a new fling was always nice, but having a potentially new source to make another batch of Sanguis Virginis was always even better.

“What? You’re not gonna like, sacrifice me to some demon or something, are you? Or gut me with those huge claws… right?”

“Oh, no, not at all. It just has a rather poetic ring to it is all,” Alcina hummed casually, debating whether to get the blogger’s blood or enjoy the night with her. Then again, there was no hiding from the tiny woman that she was a mutant vampire, so she had to come clean. “Though,” she leaned back in her chair, “I’m admittedly not sure whether to ravish you or turn you into my wine. We need maiden’s blood for the wine, you see, since it’s just so... delectable.” Normally, the countess would have no issue deciding to turn someone into wine, but given the events from earlier that day... the blogger could make for a good plaything instead.

The blogger swallowed nervously. She had a feeling that whatever she would say, Alcina would manage to have her way. “...How much blood? Are you gonna… turn me? If not, can you not… like, kill me? I need my blood to live.” So many questions raced in her head, she was almost regretting accepting the offer. Almost.

“Charming. Don’t you worry, I won’t drain you of all your blood, should you end up being my pet instead~”

The blogger spent most of the day just relaxing in her room after lunch, thinking about her future. The money won’t last forever, after all, so she needed to start planning. So far, her hostess seemed amiable enough, despite the initial scare. “Ugh, think, think, think! What can I do for Lady Dimitrescu to make her enjoy my stay if I have to come back?” Or, perhaps, she could forgo her travels, instead staying at Castle Dimitrescu for the rest of her life in service to Alcina. She felt a cold in the air, the hairs on her neck standing on ends. She slowly turned and her eyes met with Daniela’s, who she learned earlier was one of Alcina’s daughters.

“Mother says dinner is almost ready, plaything~” the witch giggled, a strident laugh that made the blogger feel a pit in her stomach.

“I… thanks,” the blogger gulped in fear, following the witch for what seemed like forever. She still wasn’t sure what to think about Daniela, truth be told. She eyed the mutant vampire, and realized the mutant was still inhumanly tall, though not as tall as Alcina. She gulped nervously, wondering if she’d be tossed to the witch if Alcina decided she wasn’t good enough.

“Ah, our little guest. Thank you for fetching her, Daniela,” Alcina nodded, a smirk revealing her fangs a bit as she waved Daniela off to take a seat. The blogger looked around, watching the maids hustle and bustle, setting food out to the table. She saw two other women similarly dressed as Daniela sitting at the table, and she assumed they were sisters. That still didn’t make her less uneasy.

The blogger’s mouth watered a bit, smelling the food. If lunch was anything to go by, dinner would be spectacular. “Thanks for letting me stay for the night, Lady Dimitrescu. Tonight’s pretty cold, or so it seems,” she took a seat.

“Oh, it’s not an issue at all, and please… you may call me Alcina,” the vampire mutant purred, trying to get a bit more emotionally close to the blogger. She rarely had any romantic emotions, she usually felt they were in the way of the real action, but… she didn’t mind it when she did have romance flare up in her heart, if someone truly was interesting to her. She frowned a bit when the blogger didn’t take her bomber jacket off, even as she started eating. “Oh, come now, how long have you worn that jacket today? Surely, you must be sweating buckets in there!”

The blogger blushed a bit, mid-bite into her chiftea. “Oh, um… you don’t need to worry… Alcina. I’m not hot at all, trust me,” she tried to dodge, knowing the lady wanted her to stop roasting.

“Well, if you get it all over your coat, you’re going to have to wash it anyways. I’m amazed you didn’t do that at lunch earlier.”

The blogger just cast her eyes downward at her food, fidgeting a bit. She knew she was locked in; one wrong choice, and she would be dead, and she’d rather be alive and uncomfortable than dead. “You’re right,” and she took off her jacket, revealing scars and tattoos on her arm peeking out from the rolled sleeves. She shivered in the brisk breeze, but kept eating.

Alcina leaned back a bit, realizing why her guest refused to shed her coat. “Who did that to you? The scars, that is.”

“...I did,” the blogger clenched a fork, her eyes still downcast. “...Most of it, anyways,” she finally looked up and made eye contact with Alcina. “Some of it was from my dad.”

“...My apologies,” Alcina truly meant it. “I had no idea.”

“It’s fine, the scars are all in the past now,” the blogger took a sip of what seemed to be wine, perhaps a merlot or a cabernet. She coughed, she hated alcohol… “Sorry… I get that wine is good for dinner, but… I prefer tea,” she admitted. “Dad was an alcoholic, so… stuff like that makes me uncomfortable. I think maybe an Earl Grey tea with some cream and sugar would be nice?”

Alcina nodded and called for a servant. “Prepare a tea kettle for our guest here. Earl Grey with cream and sugar,” the vampire lady commanded. “My dear guest… I really am sorry for making you uncomfortable. I’ll take note of that next time you come here.”

“Um… actually, about that… I’ve been thinking, Alcina. The money I’ve got won’t last forever, so I was thinking of just staying here… working for you,” the brunette woman rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly.

Each and every hour, the blogger became more and more interesting to Alcina. It was rare for girls to come and willingly work here, unless they had some sort of death wish. “I see. Well, in that case, I will spare you, my dear... if you can tell me what you can bring to the table.”

“I can make music, and I can do art. Think of all the beautiful paintings I’d make of you~” the blogger cracked a grin. “But more importantly… I can help you bring maidens into the castle for your wine.”

“Oh?” That definitely rules out making her into wine now, Alcina thought, though she decided hours ago she likely wouldn’t do such a thing to her little pet.

“If you can turn me into one like yourself and your daughters, I will. I promise. I’ve… when I was twelve, I wanted to become a vampire so badly,” she admitted, snorting a bit. “But... really, Alcina. The maidens I’d hunt for you would be my rent payment, so to speak.”

Alcina seemed to consider it, sipping her wine, and smiling in amusement at that confession. The blogger seemed multi talented, at least, so it would be nice to have some entertainment if she wanted, though it was new that someone wanted to be turned, and she was tempted, though she’d have to talk to a certain Mother Miranda. “You’ll get your chance, my dear. Patience is the key here,” she reached over and gently grasped her guest’s hand. “Perhaps not now, but you can say goodbye to your past… to the pain… soon.”

Dinner was accompanied by lots of talk, mostly of the blogger telling Alcina all about herself. Soon enough, dinner was done, and Alcina invited the blogger to her bedroom. “A deal is a deal~ I promised you that I’d help you escape your self-loathing, and I will,” she offered a gargantuan hand to the blogger.

[dwellordream]

Maybe this is too much of a risky question, so feel free to not answer if you don’t want to, but how do you think Sansa actually viewed or felt about Arya, and how do you think she will react when they meet again?

Well, our introduction to how Sansa views Arya is through her very first POV chapter: Sansa comes down for breakfast at the inn, Septa Mordane asks where Arya is, Sansa knows Arya has snuck off somewhere but claims Arya wasn’t hungry. At this point I would not say Sansa is covering for Arya out of the kindness of her heart, I would say that, in typical sibling fashion, she really just does not want to be in the middle of a Mordane versus Arya conflict. She is not so hostile towards Arya that she is willing to throw Arya under the bus at a moment’s notice, but she isn’t going to concern herself much with what Arya is off doing. This, of course, is immediately foiled with Mordane tells Sansa that Cersei has invited her and Arya into the wheelhouse for the day, and that Sansa needs to go find Arya and tell her to make sure she looks presentable for their time with the queen. From the way Mordane says, “Do remind her to dress nicely today. The grey velvet, perhaps.” I get the impression that Mordane giving instructions or warnings to Arya via Sansa is not at all uncommon, and that this probably does not at all help the relationship between sisters, if Sansa is often being asked to act as Mordane’s mouthpiece when she’s fed up and doesn’t want to deal with Arya. We then get this: The only thing that scared her about today was Arya. Arya had a way of ruining everything. You never knew what she would do. "I'll tell her," Sansa said uncertainly, "but she'll dress the way she always does." She hoped it wouldn't be too embarrassing. "May I be excused?" Sansa views Arya as unpredictable, her first POV suggests. She’s never sure what Arya is going to do, but she knows it’s probably not going to be met with approval from the people around them. “Arya had a way of ruining everything.” is point blank not a nice thing to think about your sister, obviously. Why does Sansa feel Arya ruins everything, that Arya is embarrassing to her? Well, we’re about to find out: "You better put on something pretty," Sansa told her. "Septa Mordane said so. We're traveling in the queen's wheelhouse with Princess Myrcella today." "I'm not," Arya said, trying to brush a tangle out of Nymeria's matted grey fur. "Mycah and I are going to ride upstream and look for rubies at the ford." "Rubies," Sansa said, lost. "What rubies?" Arya gave her a look like she was so stupid. "Rhaegar's rubies. This is where King Robert killed him and won the crown." Sansa regarded her scrawny little sister in disbelief. "You can't look for rubies, the princess is expecting us. The queen invited us both." "I don't care," Arya said. "The wheelhouse doesn't even have windows, you can't see a thing." "What could you want to see?" Sansa said, annoyed. She had been thrilled by the invitation, and her stupid sister was going to ruin everything, just as she'd feared. "It's all just fields and farms and holdfasts." "It is not," Arya said stubbornly. "If you came with us sometimes, you'd see." The scene is both fairly comedic, in that they are such different pages they might as not even be in the same book, and pretty much sets up what we know to expect from their dynamic. Sansa doesn’t hate Arya, but she feels that if there is one thing in her personal life (as narrow a personal life as any 11 year old has) that does not fit, that does not work the way it should, it is Arya. Arya doesn’t think like Sansa. Arya doesn’t share the same interests as Sansa. Arya doesn’t seem to care (in Sansa’s perspective) what Sansa thinks or what anyone thinks. We know Arya, does, in fact, care quite a lot about what Sansa and other people think of her, but this is not apparent to Sansa.  Sansa is thrilled at the thought of spending the day with Cersei and Myrcella, viewing this invitation as the very tip of the iceberg- she’s been betrothed to the crown prince, this is going to be her life now, idyllic rides through the countryside, court gossip, spending time in the presence of the queen herself, renowned for her beauty. Traveling in a wheelhouse is a big deal for someone raised at the isolated Winterfell. Sansa doesn’t care about the outside world, she can’t stand the thought of missing out on all the excitement going on inside. In her mind, she is verging on the precipice of grownup life. Grownup ladies sit in the wheelhouse and chat and do needlework and read to one another. They do not go tearing off into the countryside looking for rubies. But it’s not just that Arya acts ‘childish’ that annoys Sansa. It’s that Arya’s behavior does not fit the standard Sansa has been raised to uphold and to see as right and proper. Arya does not nod and go, “Sure, Sansa, let me put on my grey velvet and I’ll be right there!” Arya argues with her. The big sister! The gall. Arya refuses to put on her nice grey dress. Arya plays with the butcher’s boy, someone Sansa has been taught is not a suitable companion for a highborn girl. Arya wanders off, talking to all sorts of people, regardless of class. Sansa sees herself as well on her way to becoming a woman, but not only, in her view, does her sister act like a child in comparison, it’s that she does not even act ‘like a proper little girl’. Arya disregards the gender norms Sansa has been told must be upheld. Arya is defiant, Arya is stubborn, Arya says what’s on her mind. To Sansa, this means any social situation with Arya is a ticking timebomb. She is constantly annoyed and aggravated, afraid Arya will offend Cersei, Joffrey, Myrcella, etc. Little does Sansa know, Arya is also often on edge in these situations, feeling like she can’t do anything right, that Sansa doesn’t like her and is ashamed of her.  However, what I do not read into this initial scene, though it ends with both sisters annoyed and frustrated with one another, is genuine hatred. Arya refuses to come along, Sansa pulls the classic older sibling ‘fine, I’ll go by myself, and it’ll be lots of fun!’ hoping to use some reverse psychology, and Arya gets one last jab in as Sansa stalks off. Sansa is tearful, not because she’s going to miss Arya oh so much, but because now she’s going to have to explain where Arya ran off to, and she’s afraid it will make her look bad or that Cersei and company will think less of her for having an ‘unruly sister’. All of this is pretty realistic to the behavior of some bickering 11 and 9 year olds. Both girls are sensitive, but in different ways, which again, makes sense. Even in the midst of their fierce argument, Sansa is still giggling at Arya trying to brush Nymeria’s fur, and Arya still offers to let Sansa come along with her and Mycah. We know from Arya’s POV, moving forward, that she feels genuinely hurt by Sansa’s disapproval, that she feels the absence of a close sisterly bond, that Sansa and Jeyne’s comments of ‘horse face’ whether teasingly meant or deliberately provocative, make her feel insecure and small, unworthy and unwanted. But neither Arya nor Sansa have the skills to communicate their true feelings or exactly why they aggravate one another so much. More so, why Arya aggravates Sansa so much, as Arya is not nearly as upset by Sansa’s more ‘ladylike’ behavior as Sansa is by Arya’s ‘rebellious’ behavior. Again, I think this is fairly reasonable. They’re 11 and 9 and Septa Mordane is not at all one to be promoting conflict resolution. Ned doesn’t spend much time parenting either of them on a day to day basis as they travel south. They’ve been separated from their mother, which is a pretty big deal for two little girls who’ve never traveled before, nevermind traveled without the rest of the family. They don’t have their brothers as buffers; Sansa can’t confide in Robb, Arya can’t confide in Jon. They don’t have a ton of privacy; they’re sharing a tent or an inn bed together at night, they can’t just run off to opposite ends of the keep to get away from each other, because they’re on the road. The mundane stressors are exacerbating an already rocky relationship.  But none of this is all that out of the ordinary or odd. Neither of them has flung any major insults at the other in either’s POV so far, they haven’t had any big conflicts. What really goes on to totally change the dynamic is the Trident incident, and all the emotions tied up in that. That is not a ‘normal’ situation. That is a situation none of the kids present (including Joffrey and Mycah) should ever have been in. That is four kids wandering off into the woods, miles away from any adult supervision, two of them at least tipsy, one of them carrying a weapon. Neither Sansa nor Arya woke up that day expecting things to go that way. It is so beyond the pale that what follows is the equivalent of a nuclear bomb in the relationship dynamic. There is no way either comes out of that with anything close to positive feelings, in the direct aftermath, about the other sister. It is written that way by design. It’s not a nasty spat where some cruel things or said. It’s not a shoving match over who gets to watch TV or shower first. It taints the entire relationship for the rest of the book, and it guarantees that things ‘end’ on a bad note for the sisters, because neither has any forewarning to realize that there will be no chance for a reconciliation a few months down the line. Before that, what we see is, in my current reading, a more or less ‘normal’ sibling relationship. It doesn’t excuse the bullying Arya’s experienced growing up at Winterfell (which Sansa certainly does not recognize as bullying at the time of the first book) but it is not traumatizing and earth-shattering to the level that the Trident incident becomes. This really didn’t answer how I feel Sansa will react when she and Arya meet again, but to cut things short before I go on all night: Sansa currently believes Arya is dead. She’s not thinking of reconciling with Arya or thinking of her last months with Arya because it’s painful and what is the point? Arya is dead and she’s never coming back, in Sansa’s mind. She will never have a sister again. This seems doubly true to her, no doubt, after the Tyrell scheme falls through and she is married to Tyrion.  However, we do see her, as of Winds, befriending Mya Stone and Myranda Royce, neither of whom are people the Sansa we see in AGoT would have ever thought of spending time with. And before that, we see her doing the sort of things with Margaery (such as going hawking and racing horses) that Arya might have, had the opportunity arose, offered to do with Sansa. Sansa thinks of Arya as she’s warning Margaery about Joffrey. Sansa dreams about children with Willas, sometimes a daughter who looks Arya. That does not suggest contempt or disdain or lingering loathing, in my opinion. So I would say that Sansa’s initial reaction to meeting Arya again will be shock and disbelief, then overwhelming joy that not all her family is dead (assuming Arya is the first sibling she reunites with). I do not think it will be a cold stand-off between sisters. Arya has been thinking of Sansa too, frequently in A Storm of Swords, even. I truly hope that past the initial thrill of being reunited and the awkwardness of both of them being a few years older, they are able to speak openly and honestly about their childhood, that Sansa is able to apologize, that Arya is able to express herself, that both are able to agree to move forward together as sisters who love each other and who want to support one another.

[pigstepping]

Some thoughts on the ethics of "QPR shipping" from someone in a QPR

(I wanna start a discussion on this, because I haven't been able to find any sense of community consensus on norms for QPR boundaries in the Dream SMP fandom. Please chime in if you're inclined!)

When a content creator sets a boundary about shipping, they almost never clarify whether they specifically mean romantic shipping. But I think we can assume that's what they mean in almost all cases because frankly, I doubt most of the DSMP creators are educated enough about fan culture/queer culture to understand that other types of shipping exist.

However, I see a lot of people use this argument as a blanket justification for any type of shipping that isn't explicitly stated by the fan creator to be romantic. There's this attitude that if you slap a platonic label on it, you have carte blanche to portray any sort of interaction without fear of violating a boundary. In queer spaces, that might be accurate- queerplatonic relationships are by nature built around dismantling the delineation between platonic and romantic relationship expectations, and there are plenty of QPPs who share a bed, hold hands, kiss, cohabitate, get married, or even have sex, all while maintaining a purely platonic relationship.

But when it comes to cc boundaries, we have to remember that most content creators have no vocabulary for understanding or expressing that nuance. It seems likely to me that when a cc says "no shipping", meaning no romantic shipping, what they actually mean is closer to "no romantically coded or sexual intimacy". I suspect that if more cc's knew there was such a thing as platonic marriage, for example, then they might set boundaries around specific behaviors rather than broad relationship dynamics.

There are also arguments to be made for opt-in vs opt-out shipping ethics, and your stance on QPR shipping will likely vary depending on which view you ascribe to. If you're a firm believer that RPF shipping requires explicit consent from the subjects, then you might think QPR shipping should be entirely off-limits because no cc has explicitly given us permission for it. If, on the other hand, you think that RPF shipping is a-okay unless stated otherwise, you might see no issue writing strongly romance-coded QPRs even for cc's who dislike romantic shipping, because all the cc specified was "no romance."

Personally, I think the most important thing is interpreting and honoring the intention of the boundary as best we can. Most cc's I see who set boundaries against shipping tend to do so because they see no distinction between themselves and the character they portray. So, in the interest of honoring the "spirit" of their boundaries rather than the imprecise language they use to set those boundaries, I think best practice should be to avoid writing cc's or their characters engaging in relationship behaviors we think they'd be uncomfortable with IRL. The exception to this would be dynamics and headcanons the creator has explicitly greenlit, such as queer headcanons, family dynamic headcanons, etc, as well as behaviors that are explicitly present in canon. (A key example of this is the beeduo marriage.)

I recognize that this is an unsatisfying solution, because it leaves us with so much room for interpretation. If a cc hasn't explicitly greenlit handholding, for instance, then it's up to the fan creator to make a judgment call on whether the cc would be comfortable holding hands in a platonic relationship. Since we don't know these people in real life, it's very difficult to make judgments like that, especially when @'ing them on twitter or sending a dono to clarify might make the cc uncomfortable in and of itself. It gets even trickier when you involve situational context; maybe handholding while walking down the street is off limits, but handholding while sitting by their sickbed is not.

Personally, my rules of thumb for writing relationships involving cc's with shipping boundaries are as follows:

Avoid calling a relationship "queer"platonic unless the cc is okay with people headcanoning their character as queer. (I know that non-queer people can be involved in QPRs, but I doubt cc's recognize that distinction.) Potential alternatives include platonic life partners, platonic soulmates, etc.

Intimate behaviors that can easily be interpreted as familial, such as physical and verbal expressions of affection, prioritizing each other above other relationships, etc, are always alright unless the cc states otherwise.

Avoid ambiguously romantic coded behaviors such as marriage, bed sharing between adults, holding hands, calling each other "partners", etc, unless those behaviors are non-routine/situational (see sickbed example). If the fanwork does include these types of interactions, make the platonic nature of the dynamic expressly clear in the body of the work.

Avoid strictly romantic coded/sexual behaviors such as kissing and sex altogether, regardless of platonic labeling.

Behaviors and dynamics that the creator has canonically portrayed with their character are always acceptable. As far as I'm concerned, if a cc is comfortable roleplaying a behavior, that's equivalent to giving fan creators permission to reproduce that behavior in fanworks. (Key example: Techno and Philza cohabitation.)

This code of conduct might be more (or less) restrictive than other fans would prefer, but it helps me a lot with reducing anxiety about writing something that my favorite cc's might judge or block me for. Feel free to adopt it as your own if you would benefit!

A final note: by no means am I shaming anyone who doesn't see eye to eye with me on this. The subject is a massive grey area with no clear answers, and will continue to be so until amatonormativity is dismantled enough that your standard cishet streamer can speak knowledgeably about QPRs. Honestly, it's a miracle that we've come far enough for QPR shipping to be so widespread that it merits a discussion at all.

Ultimately, I wrote this post in an attempt to get a dialogue going so that the community can establish some ethical norms, so please discuss in the tags and notes, or reach out via asks and DMs if you have any commentary! I'm very interested in hearing other people's thoughts.

[randomoranges]

and here we are for part two of the Beast hahaha

do you like supposed heartache???? because this is where it’s at. also fair mention of minor character death? 

this is legit the fic of “have you ever wondered things about étienne? fear not for i may provide answers!)

toobadnoonereadsthesehahahahaha

The Five Times Étienne Fell in Love

PART II

 They both quiet at the sound of her name and Edward is convinced he feels Étienne’s hand shake in his own. He rubs soothing circles with his thumb on Étienne’s hand and gives him the time to gather his next set of thoughts, letting him know that he’s here and that there’s no hurry.

  “Do you still think of her?” He finally asks after a while, his curiosity getting the best of him, while also wondering if Étienne hasn’t decided that this little venture down memory lane is over.

  “Sometimes,” Étienne answers after a beat, “If I hear her name, or out of the blues. Not as often as before, but – sometimes... Is it silly that I still have my wedding band?” He asks, touching the spot on his finger where the band must have sat, once, years and decades and centuries ago, quiet, as if afraid Edward will tell him that it is indeed stupid for him to still be attached to it. He doesn’t mention the grave he can no longer visit or the memories that seem to fade with each new year. He keeps those thoughts to himself and focuses on what he can still remember.

  “No; I don’t think so. She was your wife, after all – you clearly cared for her.” He reassures him, offering him a soft smile.

  It still comes as a shock to him, so many years later, that Étienne had been married. Willingly. That he’d had a wife and played house for a while. It’s such an un-Étienne like thing to do, but then again, Étienne had been a different person at the time. He tries to picture his boyfriend as a married man and wonders what he would have looked like; what he would have worn and such and mourns the fact that there are probably no images of the event.

  “I did,” He admits, serious as all else. “I still remember how I met Charlotte,” He starts with a small smile ghosting over his face, his look far away as he thinks back to the encounter. “Ironically, we met at church. I was leaving mass and she was outside, begging someone to help her out. She – didn’t look good; ratty clothes, dishevelled and no one went to her, which was ironic, considering we were leaving church. There was something about her that pulled me to her – wanted me to help her. She was a little hesitant at first, but she came home with me. She was able to change and wash and after I made sure she ate something; I was able to get part of her story out.”

  “She was from out of town – a day’s ride away, more or less and she was in the city since she’d gotten word that her brother was supposed to arrive that day. I never found out if her brother was real or not, but I never questioned it. She had no money, so she couldn’t stay anywhere in the city and when we went to check out the convents and such, they were all very full. The idea of letting her out on the streets was out of the question, so I let her stay at mine despite of what others could say. It just felt very – un-catholic to leave someone in need out in the cold. Charlotte obviously didn’t want to inconvenience me, but I really didn’t mind. I had space, we could make it work. I didn’t think it would turn into a semi-permanent thing, but the alternative didn’t sit well with me.”

  Edward isn’t surprised; Étienne’s always been generous with his time and has had a tendency of looking out for others, in his own way. Étienne doing things his own way, regardless of what others could think also doesn’t surprise him. He supposes it’s one of the many qualities he’s admired in him.

  “I still remember waking up that first morning and finding out that she’d made breakfast for me, as a way of thanking me for letting her stay. It seemed unnecessary, but she wanted me to know that she wasn’t taking advantage of me and that she really did appreciate it. I wasn’t about to complain – she was a good cook and even if I managed better then, it’s always a treat to have someone make food for you.”

  “We struck a friendship from that day on and I soon realised that it was nice coming home and having someone there to unwind with and talk. It was incredibly less lonely. Even without the sex, I enjoyed her company and didn’t mind having her around. She was vivacious and had a sharp mind. We could talk for hours on end, really.”

  Edward’s read many of Étienne’s letters about his feelings of being alone and it strikes him that then that his friend has always been after companionship, in one way or another, just to feel a connection. He even remembers Étienne writing to him about a new type of celebration they had in his city and how wonderful it was to welcome the first boat back to the port towards the end of winter. He’d thought it endearing at first and maybe a little silly, but he now realises that there had always been more to it and that Étienne has played a careful game of disguising his real feelings behind frivolous, silly things.

  “Of course, everyone in town thought she was the devil, or at the very least that our arrangement was improper. Her hair was the colour of fire, they said, or an unaccompanied woman arriving out of nowhere was a bad omen. Hell, they even went after me, saying that I had bedded her and taken her virtue. Or that we were both going to hell for being unmarried and living together. I thought that was very hypocritical of them, considering the Son of God had befriended all sorts of people and had welcomed them all in his circle, but regardless what the people said, Charlotte was none of those things. She was better than all of them combined.”

  “Growing up, marriage wasn’t what it is today – you know that; it was an arrangement of convenience – a best move made between families and such. There was none of this love garbage to it and frankly, it sounded a lot less complicated to me. I thought maybe being a city meant romantic love wasn’t something we could feel, since we represent our people or whatever – but then Jacques fell for Suzette and if anything, theirs was real, so surely, there had to be a way...” He trails off for a moment and sighs.

  “Even after my talk with Jacques I didn’t get how it worked for him and at first, I didn’t even consider or think Charlotte and I would get married. She was my friend and she was staying with me until she could figure something out. On top of that, I saw what marriage did to some and I didn’t want that. Young women married off to older gentlemen, forced to have a slew of children, not ever able to do what they wanted – to explore the world and be who they wanted to be... No wonder Élyse didn’t have any interest in that either! I didn’t understand what the appeal was! But then, for all the horror stories I heard, I also heard of – feel good stories. People who married someone their parents had set them up with and then learned to love. I remembered some of my friends who’d seem happy in their new lives and – it didn’t look so bad. I thought that was it! This was how I was going to fall in love! If they could learn to love their partners, then maybe that could happen to me as well.”

  Edward gives him a sympathetic smile. It’s endearing, to a point, how hard Étienne believed that eventually these “norms” would apply to him and yet, he also feels a little bad for the young man Étienne had been at the time, full of hopes and frustrations as he tried valiantly to fit in and be “normal” in his own way. He gets it, though, having gone down similar self-doubt patterns and having tried to “fit in” as well. He supposes it’s a mutual struggle many like themselves have gone through, but it still remains jarring to hear that even someone like Étienne, who was usually so self-assured and confident, had gone through such a phase.

  “We became mutually attracted to one another a few months after Charlotte had shown up in town. Ironically, neither of us had wanted to bring it up, afraid the other would take it the wrong way. I didn’t want to seem like I expected her to sleep with me because I was letting her live with me and she didn’t want me to think that she was a harlot. Still, one night, after we’d each gone to our own quarters, we both found ourselves back in the kitchen around the same time, unable to sleep. I put on the kettle to make something warm and we started chatting, as we often did. It was relatively dark and between the oil lamps, waiting for the water to boil and everything else, we found ourselves huddling closer and closer for warmth. Somewhere along the conversation and the waiting, she leaned in close to me and made a grab for my hand.”

  “It was all very hesitant – halting touches, curious looks, but it was clear what we both wanted and finally, I asked her – if I could kiss her – she was so close to me and so beautiful, but she could have said no and it would have been that. I wasn’t about to force something she didn’t want – never have and never will. Instead, she pressed closer to me and kissed me first. It was a beautiful thing, really, and it’s a good thing I had half a mind to shut everything off, because we never did get around to tea and instead we went back to my bedroom.”

  There’s a soft smile that blooms on Étienne’s face; nostalgic and sweet and Edward dares to think that that in itself is a thing of beauty. Étienne’s hands get lost in Mercury’s fur and for a moment, he remains silent, most likely reliving his memory and whatever images his mind can still conjure of Charlotte. Edward doesn’t interrupt, knowing how powerful these memories can be.

  “Afterwards, she quietly admitted that she wasn’t a virgin, afraid I would judge her for it, as though that was supposed to be the end all of things and I reassured her by telling her that I wasn’t either. It must have been the right thing to say, because she laughed and laughed. At the time, it was the greatest of sounds and I wanted to hear it often.  We stayed up all night, spending our time together and navigating this new thing between us. One moment we would be kissing, the next we would be talking and in the end, we stayed up to watch the sunrise together.”

  “I can’t say that it’s when I fell in love with her, but it felt as though I had found an equal of sorts. In fact, I’m not really sure when it happened, but I know I did come to love her over the three years we were together. She was free to do whatever she pleased during the day and I never demanded to know her every whereabouts. I liked that we could each do our own thing and see to our own occupations and that we could coexist side by side. We always made it a point to have breakfast together at the very least and it was so beautifully domestic and peaceful. For the first time, I felt – happy. Truly happy. It was a good life, really.”

  “The rest of the community eased up on her when they saw that no ill had befallen me and that no illegitimate children had appeared nine months later, but – they never fully welcomed her. She was still cast out and I could tell it bothered her. She tried to immerse herself in the city; tried to find work and do something of her days, but few were the people who genuinely tried to connect with her and it angered me.

  Charlotte was so kind to them – never had a bad word to say and she was always aware of the families that were struggling or those who were in need, but no one ever showed her an ounce of that same compassion. She had never done anything wrong to them – she’d just been an unfortunate woman down on her luck. I could only imagine what would have happened to her had I not stepped in that day. And yet, even if I never really knew her real story, even if sometimes I felt as though she was keeping a secret from me, something old and ancient still pulled me to her and I never quite understood where that feeling came from. A sort of – connection. She never offered any background on herself, other than a brother who was supposed to arrive that never did. She had no family she spoke of and I never pried. We were happy together in our arrangement and that worked for me.”

  “A little over a year after we started sleeping together, she came to me one day, frazzled and in obvious distress. She’d been out all day and I had noticed that something had been preoccupying her for the past few weeks. Every time I had asked her, she had brushed me off and told me that it was nothing, but now she sat me down and announced that she was with child. I – didn’t believe her. It was impossible. I couldn’t have children – people like me couldn’t have children. Clearly, I would have known if it was possible. Jacques and Suzette didn’t have a flock of their own and lord knew they were enthusiastic enough about the process of it – so there had to be a mistake.”

  “Charlotte assured me that she was – the doctor had confirmed it for her earlier that day and for as much as I was scared shitless, I was also – excited - giddy. At whatever fluke had caused this. It didn’t matter to me if I wasn’t the biological father – I never forced her to stay with me, even though she repeatedly told me that she hadn’t gone behind my back. I would figure out the logistics later, but for the briefest of moments, I felt legitimately like a real human – I was going to have a family. I was with a wonderful person. I’d make it work out – somehow. At the time, it didn’t matter that eventually, both Charlotte and our child would grow and look older than me. All those issues were secondary to the immense joy I felt.”

  It still surprises Edward to hear this part of the tale, much as it had when he had read about it, years and years ago. Not only because of Charlotte’s pregnancy, but by Étienne’s reaction as well. He had never considered his friend to be one who’d want children, if he could and he tries to picture Étienne with kids he’d be responsible for.

  “Of course, the first proper thing to do was to marry her. This was my chance to try this very human ritual and so I made sure to be real proper about it. I think it cemented the fact for Charlotte that I wasn’t about to boot her out because she was expecting. It reassured her in a way and the idea had never crossed my mind. I cared for her deeply – I loved her even and we would be a real family!”

  “We went as far as making the proper announcements of our engagement, but we were quick to marry. Élyse was our only witness. I didn’t want Charlotte to be met with more scorn and I wanted everyone to know that she was a wonderful person and that if they gave her a chance, they would also get to see that.”

  “Beyond that we were giddy – at being together and married and at this child we’d be welcoming into the world. It felt surreal, like a fever dream – too good to last. There was so much to do that I didn’t even bother letting anyone know – only El and you in my letter. Élyse was just as surprised that Charlotte was expecting, but she didn’t buy into the idea that it was mine. Still, she let me have this happiness, but warned me that both Charlotte and the baby would age. She knew I would be wrecked when they’d go. I ignored her and told her to mind her own business. I would cherish this family. I would watch over each generation if I had to. I logically knew they’d grow old and die – that anything could happen to them, but it was a problem for later and I pushed it aside. This time around, I wanted to focus on my new growing family and found happiness.”

  Edward wants to interrupt the story and make a comment or two at how it still sounds like the wildest of tales, however when he spares his boyfriend a glance, he still has that faraway look on his face. He seems happy and Edward doesn’t want to change that, even if it seems as though Étienne is no longer talking to him and simply reminiscing out loud.  

  “It seemed as though everything was working in my favour, but once more, winter showed up and took away everything I liked.” And just like that, a cloud comes crashing over Étienne’s previous good mood and chases his smile away. Edward wordlessly reaches for his hand and holds on to it, knowing what comes next. “Charlotte was six months pregnant when she woke up one morning in intense pain. It was snowing hard and when I went to find the doctor or the midwife, there was no way I could make it out. The snow was up to my knees and Charlotte wasn’t doing so good. Even having cleared the snow the night before, a freak blizzard had trapped us in and no matter how fast I tried to remove the snow, it wasn’t fast enough and Charlotte went from bad to worse.”

  Étienne’s voice wobbles and breaks and when he next tries to take in a breath, it’s shaky at best.

  “You don’t have to tell me the rest, if you don’t want to...” Edward offers gently. The last thing he wants to do is to put Étienne through even more heartache. That wasn’t the point of his initial question. He appreciates that his boyfriend is being open and is sharing this information with him, but not to the point of causing distress.

  “It’s fine, really – this part always gets me. I want to tell you.” Étienne’s smile is watery and Edward gives his hand a tight squeeze. His boyfriend holds on to it as he goes on with his story and Edward finds himself wishing he could free Étienne of his burden.

  “I knew nothing of childbirth, but I – I tried to save them both. I did what I could. I really did. The neighbour, bless her, came to help me out, having assisted with births all her life and – despite our best efforts, we lost them both. The baby was stillborn and Charlotte died a little later; whether her heart gave out or she lost too much blood is irrelevant. They were both gone. Taken away from me before I’d even had a chance to cherish them properly. I thought I’d have years with them – that we could be a proper family. Instead I barely had a taste and I finally knew what real heartbreak was.”

  Edward finds his own eyes clouded with tears and he tries to be discreet when he wipes them clean. He notices Étienne do the same with the sleeve of his sweater and he brings an arm up to his back to rub gentle circles on it. Étienne leans into the contact and into his side and Edward kisses the top of his head as his boyfriend takes a moment to recompose himself. He says nothing when he feels Étienne’s shoulders shake and when Étienne excuses himself to blow his nose, he says nothing about it either.

  Even after all these years and centuries, Edward feels as though this is only the second time Étienne has opened up about this chapter of his life. Already, his boyfriend isn’t one to share the emotional details of his life and he supposes that this had been a story he’d kept closer still to his heart.

  He’s convinced the conversation will come to an end after that, but despite Étienne being too vulnerable and raw, he decides to continue on, now that he’s started, once he’s disposed of the tissue. The dam has been opened and he may as well let everything out. He resettles against Edward and the next part comes out like a whisper, a confession he makes to him and that Edward listens to attentively.

  “I never wanted to live through that ever again, so I did my best to veer away from relationships. They weren’t my thing anyways. People fell in love left right and center and I didn’t have the heart to be the bearer of bad news. So I kept to my flings and figured this was the life I would lead. It would be easier for everyone, in the long run.”

  Edward would like to believe that Étienne’s plan had worked out, yet he knows there is still much more left to the story.--

Part I

Part III

[stevepotterwrites]

A Review of David Lynch Biography/Memoir “Room to Dream”

As one might well expect from a book about the life and work of the eccentric auteur David Lynch, Room to Dream is by turns hilarious, heartbreaking, and a little strange. Biography and memoir in one, each chapter contains two sections separated by three or four pages of black-and-white photos from the time period covered in the chapter. First, we get a well-researched and clearly-presented biographical take featuring input from Lynch’s friends, family members, and collaborators. Former L.A. Times journalist Kristine McKenna does a fine job of keeping the story of Lynch’s improbable rise moving along. She gets out of the way and lets her interviewees do the talking when that’s best and weaves their recollections effectively giving us glimpses of the different stages of Lynch’s life and career from multiple angles. In the second section of each chapter, Lynch takes over and revisits the past in his own words. He goes into greater detail, sometimes, focusing on an aspect of the story that wasn’t covered in as much depth in Ms. McKenna’s section sometimes building on what others said. On a few occasions, he remembers things differently and disagrees with what others have said. For example, Lynch believes that Anthony Hopkins tried to get him fired from directing The Elephant Man. Ms. McKenna’s conclusion, based on her research, is that Hopkins complained bitterly about Lynch but stopped short of demanding he be fired and replaced. Who can really say for sure which account is closer to the truth? Either way, Lynch had the last laugh. The Elephant Man was a critical success and received eight Oscar nominations including Best Director. His career was launched. As much as one may be put off by Hopkins’ snotty attitude and presumption, regardless of whether or not he actually pushed to remove and replace Lynch or merely complained about him, his concern about being directed by a complete unknown isn’t really too surprising. Lynch was an inexperienced young director whose only full-length film was a bizarre, unclassifiable, no-budget, black-and-white surrealistic nightmare starring a bunch of actors no one had ever heard of before and which had only been shown as the midnight movie at a handful of art house theaters in the States. Yes, it’s recognized as a classic now and, yes, Lynch has become a legend, but at the time he was a completely unknown young American directing a cast of highly-acclaimed British actors including stage legend John Gielgud. Incredible. Thankfully, producer Mel Brooks had great faith in Lynch and admirably threw his full support behind him despite the reservations Hopkins and, quite likely, though less vocally, others had.Lynch’s rise was an astonishingly steep career trajectory by any measure. He made the animated short loop Six Men Getting Sick in 1966 and the live-action short The Grandmother in 1968 while a student at Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelphia. Those opened the door to the American Film Institute in California where over a five-year period, on a tiny budget, with a small dedicated crew, he made Eraserhead. That film, in turn, convinced Mel Brooks that Lynch was the guy he was looking for to direct The Elephant Man  starring his wife, Anne Bancroft, among many other fine performers. Then came hard lessons learned from the $40 million (estimate according to IMDb) big-budget disaster of Dune. Despite that not going so well, producer Dino De Laurentiis gave Lynch the go-ahead to direct Blue Velvet with full creative control. Lynch found his groove and went on to create the body of work he is best known for. What we see examples of repeatedly throughout Room to Dream that at least in part explains his success is how Lynch’s charisma, contagious enthusiasm for his projects, and dedication to his craft and vision engenders a sense of loyalty from his actors, crew and other collaborators. The section of the book which recounts Catherine Coulson’s final performance in her iconic role of Margaret Lanterman, AKA the Log Lady, may well have you weeping when you read it. Her scenes will take on a deeper poignancy when you watch Twin Peaks: The Return again. Ms. Coulson was a key member of the Eraserhead team who worked tirelessly to help get that film made even donating her waitressing tips to the cause. Many of those sharing stories in the book are world-famous — Isabella Rossellini, Kyle Maclachlan, Laura Dern, Sting, John Hurt, Sissy Spacek — but some of the most illuminating insights come from lesser-known behind-the-scenes talents. One of my favorites is handyman and jack-of-all-trades, Alfredo Ponce. Mr. Ponce was doing some landscaping work in Lynch’s neighbor’s yard in the mid-nineties. Lynch struck up a conversation with him and the two hit it off. Lynch hired him to do some cleaning. He has been working for Lynch ever since taking care of everything from landscaping to plumbing to electrical work to mechanical repairs to building a set for Inland Empire.  “People see me here cleaning or raking leaves and they think nothing — they don’t know how much I know,” Mr. Ponce says. “I can smell things from far away, and I can see immediately when someone comes up here who doesn’t have David’s best interest at heart. The negative energy — I can see that, and I’ve seen a lot of people come and go. David’s an easygoing, nice person and he can be taken advantage of, so I try to protect him. Anybody who works here has to be somebody I trust.” Ponce’s picture jibes with the overall depiction of Lynch in the book. While he’s had his fallings out, breakups, business deals gone wrong and so forth the general consensus seems to be that he’s a pretty nice guy. On a scale of Dale Cooper doppelgangers, he’d likely hew more toward the Dougie Jones side of the spectrum than the Evil Coop zone. No doubt the man can be cantankerous, cranky, foul-mouthed and ill-tempered when confronted with realities that get in his way, as demonstrated in this clip below from the making of Twin Peaks: The Return, but some Hollywood veterans who’ve worked with him describe the experience as among the nicest, most pleasant and least dysfunctional gigs they’ve had in their long careers. The man has manners. He’s considerate. He knows everybody on set by name and acknowledges their contributions far beyond the directorial norm. This may in part be due to his long commitment to the daily practice of Transcendental Meditation. We also see Lynch’s maniacal attention to detail. He’ll fuss over something on set that likely won’t even be visible on screen in the end. To get the feel of the scene just right, it is important for him that all of the details be just so, just right. And, of course, if one gets to the point of fussing over minor details that won’t ever show, it’s only because there’s nothing left to fuss with. Everything is just right and ready to go. He’s like the short story writer who knows he is done with a story when he finds himself putting commas back in that he’d previously cut. Yet coupled with that powerful desire to get the set to look just the way he envisioned it is the seemingly contradictory willingness to embrace chance and serendipity, to spontaneously incorporate a new element that presents itself into the work. Lynch’s best friend since high school, the production designer and artistic director Jack Fisk, who has worked with many of the finest directors in Hollywood including the Coen Brothers and Terrence Malick and is every bit as well-respected as Lynch in the movie industry (though far less famous to the general public) gives an example of this from when they were teenagers obsessed with painting. A large moth flew onto one of Lynch’s wet paintings, got trapped and flailed away trying to break loose. While another painter might have been upset and set to work to remove the moth and smooth over the disrupted section of paint, Lynch was thrilled and at once accepted the dying moth’s struggle and eventual death as a part of the painting. Many years later, in a now famous incident, set designer Frank Silva accidentally got himself trapped on the set of Laura Palmer’s bedroom when he blocked the exit door with a dresser. He hid behind the bed during the filming of a scene. Lynch was intrigued by the thought of an unseen character hiding in the room. In a later scene in the Palmers’ living room, Silva’s face was accidentally shown reflected in a mirror. Clearly, he was supposed to be in the show. Lynch incorporated Silva into the series as a central figure, the evil, interdimensional being BOB who possesses Leland Palmer and makes him do bad things. It is hard to imagine Twin Peaks without BOB but such a version might have been if Mr. Lynch was less open to influence, if he didn’t allow himself the room to dream. Room to Dream. What a perfect title. Mr. Lynch managed to find himself the room to dream and to bring those dreams alive on film, on record, and on canvas so the rest of us can dream along with him. He got past the most common destroyer of artistic ambition — concerned, well-meaning parents who don’t understand what you’re doing — and found collaborators who did get it. That this is a book Lynch fans will enjoy goes without saying, but it’s also a good choice more generally for anyone interested in how movies get made or those who simply enjoy a good memoir.

-- Steve Potter

https://bookfreak.us/2018/10/21/david-lynchs-room-to-dream/