#but the urge to Write A Novel is burning at me again

[werewolfmack]

This is a little left field but... What if... I did NaNoWriMo this year? 🤔🤨

[notbecauseofvictories]

Books of 2022

In 2022, I read fewer books overall (143, down from last year’s ridiculous 303) but I did manage to cut down on my romance novel reading---a respectable 52% instead of last year’s 78%. The consequence of this is that I did actually read more good books this year, books I could talk about with other people and inspired feelings and thoughts that rattled around my head afterwards. Plus some actual nonfiction!

Going through all of them, what I liked about them, why they made such an impression, would take a while---plus I’ve already talked about most of these in my books tag. So I’m just going to invite everyone to ask about anything that catches their eye!

BEST FICTION (IN THE ORDER I READ THEM) ** indicates a particular favorite

The House of Small Shadows, Adam Nevill

**The Cipher, Kathe Koja

Eartheater, Dolores Reyes

Hadriana in All My Dreams, René Depestre

**Tender is the Flesh, Agustina Bazterrica 

You've Lost a Lot of Blood, Eric LaRocca

The Beautiful Ones, Silvia Moreno-Garcia

The Last Unicorn, Peter S. Beagle

War for the Oaks, Emma Bull

Girl A, Abigail Dean

This Might Hurt, Stephanie Wrobel

**Burning Girls and Other Stories, Veronica Schanoes

Eva Ibbotson’s A Countess Below Stairs, A Company of Swans, & Magic Flutes

Deerskin, Robin McKinley

BEST NONFICTION

An Iliad, Lisa Peterson and Denis O’Hare

**Capitalist Realism, Mark Fisher

Urban Folklore in the Paperwork Empire, Alan Dundes & Carl R. Pagter

**Fun Home, Alison Bechdel

**Men, Women & Chainsaws, Carol J. Clover

[romance novels and most disliked books under the cut---I did give these a bit of an explanation, because being asked about romance novels makes me itchy. We shall never speak of these again.]

ROMANCE NOVEL READING

Vivienne Lorret (How to Forget a Duke, Ten Kisses to Scandal, The Rogue to Ruin, When a Marquess Loves a Woman, How to Steal a Scoundrel's Hear) Admittedly, nothing particularly unique about these---however, they are more traditional romance and a pretty decent attempt at actual regency-style manners, so I enjoyed myself reading them.

Olivia Atwater (Half a Soul, Ten Thousand Stitches, Longshadow) I actually sincerely loved these! Supernatural historical romance from a solid writer. Plus, the series has angrier, more class-conscious sensibilities than all the romance novels I've read---and is less hypocritical about it too, since the characters are largely not nobility, and there's no marrying dukes involved.

Alice Coldwater (His Forsaken Bride, An Ill-Made Match, The Unlovely Bride, Wed By Proxy) So admittedly, I don’t recommend reading all four of these together---it becomes increasingly clear that Coldwater can only write one and a half heroines, and both of them are excessively weepy. Nevertheless, I took a total leap of faith on this (historical fantasy romance isn't typically my genre) and was rewarded by a lot of delightful pining, some court politics, and the 1.5 heroines she can write are fun to follow around.

C.L. Wilson (The Winter King, The Sea King) If last year was about reading every romance novel about dukes I could find, this year was about finding all the fantasy romance novels. (Shout out to Stephanie Garber who also helped feed this inexplicable urge!) Anyway, this series was fun, similar to the above in that it’s fake fantasy politics and some romance, and that’s a combination that works for me.

MOST DISLIKED BOOKS

Redshirts, John Scalzi I have never despised a book quite like this one! I still can't tell if it's the smirkingly obvious Star Trek meta of it all, or the hat on a hat that is the last chapter/coda 1. I did like coda 3, but only because it felt like the only quietly, emotionally sincere part of the whole stupid book.

High Times in the Low Parliament, Kelly Robinson Novellas must be tricky to write---I’ve read a fistful or so, and find them to be wildly variable in quality and effectiveness. That said....the author’s attempt to resolve entrenched political problems via dance made me roll my eyes so hard I strained a muscle. It ruined what might have otherwise been a fun time, since I did like the narrator's charmingly disaffected perspective

Always Be My Duchess, Amalie Howard Emotional honesty and vulnerability has no place in romance novels. I read historical romance specifically so people won’t talk about their feelings, and the fact that romancelandia keeps shoehorning therapy-speak into my regency may in fact be my villain origin story. However, even worse than that is this book’s use of “totally” and "patriarchy" in a completely ahistorical way, betraying a nauseating disinterest in the time period being written about. Worse than even that: the total fucking coward's move it is to write a Pretty Woman fic but then have the heroine be a virgin and not a sex worker at all. God knows we can't be interesting.

Death, Laura Thelassa This one is my own fault. I did think "hey isn't that the romance series with the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse? I read one of those a long time ago; I should give it another shot." (I promise, I regretted it instantly.) However, it is another excellent entry in the long list of cowardly books that refuse to actually lean into enemies to lovers as a trope. Also, if you have undying protagonists? they should kill each other more.

[brightbeautifulthings]

The Sunshine Court by Nora Sakavic

"'What you hold onto is less important than the act of holding on itself. It's so easy to get lost in ourselves and this world. Sometimes you need to find your way back one tiny miracle at a time.'"

Year Read: 2024

Rating: 4/5

About: Jean Moreau is desperate to get back to the team that nearly killed him. The Ravens aren't the forgiving type, and the longer he stays with the Foxes to recover, the worse it will be for him when he returns. Except he won't be returning. In the wake of deaths in the Moriyama family and Neil's bargaining, Jean signs with the Trojans, an Exy team across the country known for their kindness on the court. It's an ill fit for a former Raven, who are taught to play the game as brutally as possible, but it's the least of Jean's worries with the threat of the Moriyamas coming to reclaim their property. Trigger warnings: child death, slavery, human trafficking, rape/assault, torture, abuse, organized crime, drowning, severe injury, burns, broken bones, panic attacks, anxiety.

Thoughts: It was an absolute delight to be back in this universe again. I can never quit reading the All for the Game series; once I've started, I have to devour all of them until I've finished, and this felt exactly like that. They're so immersive, and I had the urge to start over again from the beginning as soon as I was done. I was a little thrown off at first because this doesn't pick up at the end of The King's Men but rather a little before it, when Jean is first taken from the Ravens. Though initially confusing, I think it was a good choice because it allows us to start Jean's journey with him right from the beginning.

This book reminds me so much of The Foxhole Court. Jean's path has some almost eerie parallels to Neil's in that first book, where they're both learning how to be real people again in the wake of unimaginable trauma. Much like Neil's Foxes, it's his team that gives Jean a lifeline, and I loved the inside look on both the Trojans and the Ravens, who were largely mysterious to us in previous books. It's heart-wrenching to get a deeper look at the Ravens' systematic abuse, none a bigger target for Riko's cruelty than Jean. The Trojans are a much-needed counterbalance, the kindness and the optimism that the Ravens lack, although they're far from perfect.

In addition to writing wonderfully developed, compelling characters, Sakavic excels at balancing the trauma with humor in these books so that, as heavy as the topics sometimes get, we're never without a light (or a sassy comment) to draw us back out of the dark. Most of the novel is about Jean getting settled with the Trojans and learning how to function without such strict regiments; similarly, the advancement is largely in character development rather than plot. Though I do have the sense that Jean has come a long way by the end, it's not quite as powerful as Neil's arc in that first book. I was definitely left wanting much more of this story.

[69consellationsinatrenchcoat]

Let's talk SH

Content Warning. Major Discussions of S*lf H*rm mostly the context of alternatives (descriptions kept to a minimum). Please be mindful of your own triggers, and read at your own pace, look after yourselves, that kind of thing. Please. 💜

Many of my councillors, therapists, and psychologists have told me to 'just do it in red pen' instead of doing it with a blade, this is a great idea. If and only if, you have broken the original desire for pain. We really want to be finding options that distract our brains rather than giving them time to ruminate.

So let's jump right into some of our most effective alternative options.

(Please be aware, we do not condone starting to SH if you can avoid it, there are better options. This list is intended for those of us who already have issues with SH)

If you're struggling, please reach out.

Global Suicide Hotlines: https://faq.whatsapp.com/1417269125743673

https://www.depression.org.nz/

distraction based solutions

Make a playlist. Jump into Spotify, Apple Music, YT music, burn a CD, just Collect Music That Fits Your Feelings in the moment.

Crack open that recorder you haven't touched since your first year of school, bang on the pots and pans... make a racket, scream to the heavens.

I mean in this in 100% seriousness: if you have a video game that you like, play it. No ones care if you're playing Roblox, blowing up TNT in Minecraft (extremely satisfying), stealing cars in GTA, whacking up a storm in Wii Sports Resort Swordfighting, playing Fireboy & Watergirl on CoolMathGames, solving puzzles in the Legend of Zelda, do the wordle, code something on Scratch, or playing some random game you installed yesterday; get your brain busy and get it occupied. Especially if you can beat up on something (mass murdering bokoblins in LoZ AoC, anyone?)

Play with the ✨bored button✨ https://www.boredbutton.com/

Video games not your thing? How about Sodoku? Solitaire? Word find?

Read a book

Call or text a friend. Easier said than done, especially if you feel like you're burdening them, but this can really help. You don't even have to talk to them about what you're going through. Ring up your local autistic or ADHD friend; ask them about their current hyperfixation, by the time they're done, there's a good chance you'll have forgotten everything.

Find a new research topic. Open Wikipedia to a random page (just type "Special:Random" in the general search box or click that link), spend the next several hours learning about it and following all the hyperlinks.

Get your body moving, YouTube workouts can be great for this if you're confined.

some kind of pain w/o pain

Make a character. Write about them. Hurt them. Put them through hell and back again. Write someone else's pain. Even if your character is hurting themselves, it's better than hurting you. Even if it's absolutely terrible writing. We're not looking for the next best-selling novel here (most likely no one else will even see it), we're only looking for someway for you to externalise your hurt.

Find a book or fan fiction. There are plenty of books out there with scenes where someone's in pain. Alternatively, jump onto A03, find a fandom you like, pop 's*lf h*rm' into the tags, most fandoms there's at least one. (Please be mindful of trigger warnings here and whether seeing characters in pain makes it worse).

Write out every single reason you want to hurt yourself on your skin. Leave it until the urge dies down. Wash it off.

Run a blunt object over your hands. I find thumb stones super helpful. Fidget with a fidget toy, keep your hands busy.

If you can sing, sing. Scream in the shower.

Paint, draw, colour. Scribble everywhere. D r a w. Draw an arm, and draw yourself bleeding if it helps.

Write terrible poetry. This is the main thing that's helped me.

pain without injury (not ideal)

rubber band around your wrist, snap it a lot.

suck on an ice cube

eat something super sour (or super spicy!)

run something pointed (not sharp) against your skin

draw on yourself with henna, or make up

speaking of, SFX wounds made of makeup? amazing.

have a very hot, or absolutely freezing shower

If you're up to figuring out why you want to hurt, sometimes this can help too. And ofc, I always suggest journalling out your thoughts.

And here's a website with some more

https://projectlets.org/alternatives-to-selfharm

Please add your own suggestions in the comments! I'd love to hear what helps

Genuinely, the main goal here is to keep your body unhurt in someway. Stay safe out there <3

We needed somewhere to collect viable self harm alternatives because yk, mental illness is as mental illness does.

[polutrope]

9, 19, 20 for the smut asks!

Thank you for the ask!

9. How did you learn to write smut? Were there specific fics or authors that inspired you? Or novels/movies/other texts?

Three ways I can think of!

Reading, reading, reading! I have legit copy-pasted smutfics I really liked into a Google doc to pick apart why. I have done this with one of yours ajfkhdjk.

Getting betas and concrit from a range of people on the all-important question: Is This Hot?

Reading articles with tips on smut writing, articles on sexual health websites, sexual health forums (esp for firsthand testimonials on the gay sex), and sometimes even dry-ass (lol) articles on anatomy.

19. Share a favorite passage from one of your smut fics.

Below the cut time!

I find the juxtaposition of humour and smut to be an absolute sensory delight. The whole Elwing/Maglor fucking scene from Everlasting Darkness is so hot AND funny to me. Uhh this was hard to cut down, I am sorry it's long.

"Aah, Elwing!” he cried, watching her swollen breasts bounce with the motion of her body. “Aahh, you are stunning.” “Get up,” she demanded, and snapped her neck down to snarl at him. “Get up and take me on your lap.” Maglor sprang up to a seated position, holding her firmly against him. He crossed his legs and she wrapped hers around him. “Mmmph,” she moaned, grabbing his face between her hands and kissing him hard. She rolled her hips and seated him deep inside her, even as her tongue, thick and eager, sought out his. Her back arched, pushing her breasts closer so that the hard peaks of her nipples chafed against him. “Fuck me,” she breathed against his lips and took the lower one between her teeth. “Show me how good you can be, Maglor. Show me how much you regret everything you’ve ever done.” He growled with delight and grabbed her hips in both hands, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her buttocks, and lifted her over his lap. Up and down, up and down, urged on by the expression of pure bliss that overtook her. His arms burned with the effort, but she began to shout in short, sharp bursts, so he uncrossed his feet and dug his heels into the bed, lifting her harder and faster. Oh that he could release his own pent need! He was so swollen, so hard, but he was determined to give her the best she’d ever had. She hooked an arm around his shoulders, bringing her face close and panting hotly on his lips. Her pale irises were nearly swallowed by the blackness of her pupils. “Make me come,” she said. “Yes,” said Maglor, “yes, Elwing, starlight, glittering, I will make you come again and again and again, for every time I ever wronged you or your–” “Shut up and fuck me,” said Elwing. She robbed him of any possibility of defying her first command by smothering him in a deep and searching kiss, biting and sucking at his lips. Her nails clung to his back like talons. He bucked beneath her once, twice, thrice, and moved a hand from her hips to grope and pinch at one nipple and then the other. A pulse of wetness spilt around his shaft, and she shuddered and clenched down around him. She tore her mouth from his and screamed, and bucked, and screamed again. With skilled hands skittering over her body, he coaxed higher and wilder notes from her until, at last, she collapsed against his shoulder.

20. Share a summary of, or excerpt from, an unpublished smut fic.

This is Amarie and Maglor's Spouse making fun of their fiances fucking, while fucking. (Oloste is a trans woman).

“I will play music upon your cock, Ingo.” Oloste tickled the front of Amarie’s braies. “Oh Cáno, please,” she switched into the voice of Findaráto, “play me, play me, play me! Make a symphony of my pleasure.” “He would not say that,” Amarie protested meekly, rolling into Oloste’s hand. “Mm, perhaps not.” Oloste nuzzled Amarie’s neck, raising bumps over her skin with the scrape of her teeth. “But he would think it.” Amarie’s mouth was split open, half-gasping, half-laughing, as Oloste hoisted her hips up onto the dresser. The Noldo was tall — taller than Macalaurë, and practically towering over Amarie’s petite frame. But with Amarie positioned on the furniture like this, they could see eye-to-eye, and meet hip-to-hip. Oloste ground her pelvis between Amarie’s thighs. Amarie gasped. She could feel the pulse of the other woman’s arousal, growing harder against her.

[lumau]

(fandom update and appreciation)

Hello, I'm back!

These past months daily life has taken over and lead me into a fandom hiatus. After the end of twitter as we knew it I kinda lost connection and tbh it has been refreshing. While I've always kept to my own corner and away from big drama, just being in fandom on social media these days has pulled me down and I probably burned myself out over it (again).

During my break I rediscovered that I can actually enjoy things casually (I'm still playing Pokémon and started watching Winter Begonia), and that I can both consume and create things just for myself to enjoy without the constant internal pressure of seeking engagement dopamine. 

But now I'm at a point where I'm starting to miss all the good fandom stuff (meaning YOU guys out there!). I miss seeing your Xie'er hcs, your Sleuth memes and the JGY protection squad, and I'm glad that fandom always perseveres and I can simply come back after a break and y'all are still doing what you're doing. ❤️

So, what's new? Well, after intentionally ignoring it for the past years, I'm getting sucked into TGCF right now. I watched the 2nd donghua season as it aired and wanted to know more, so I finally continued reading it. I'm also doing that very slowly and am currently in the middle of the 3rd book. 

I've been reading some fic, watching videos and I know myself enough by now to see the pattern of falling into a new thing. It's both enticing and scary to once more get into something with a big following. I really love the experience of being in small, committed fandoms, but there's also something really cool about the sense that there's an infinite amount of fan content out there waiting for you. Also, the specific danger of being tempted by MERCH I can buy in an actual STORE where I live!?! Haven't had that in over 20 years. (Yes, MDZS has merch here, too, but none that I care about 😅).

For now I'm still trying to be casual about it and avoid spoilers (I know the vague plot lines, that shit will only keep going downhill, and who's behind BWX - I guess that's hard not to learn by fandom osmosis- but I'm looking the other way whenever any details come up.) 

Maybe I'll start posting some reactions as I keep going through the novels, but I don't want to feel like I'm reading it for content. Probably I'll feel the urge to write fic in the future, and my prediction is that I'll find myself in the Junlian corner (Unhealthy, one-sided obsession with a power imbalance? When have I ever resisted that!).

I've also been doing some casual doodling, which has been fun. Here's a tiny little XL for anyone who read through all of this:

Oh, and on the note of doing things very slowly - Yes, I still have plans to finish the Jia Kui/Wang Zhi/Ding Rong fic I started writing... ehm, a year ago? 🙃 I'm just beginning to feel motivated again, and it's almost done, so there's hope. 我还在!

All of that to say - old and future fandom friends, I appreciate you! Do come talk to me, here or on discord, about TGCF or Winter Begonia or any of my previous fandoms. I'm looking forward to seeing what all of y'all have been up to!

[blackidyll]

4, 8, 13, and 32 for the writing meme pls! :DD

this is from the weird questions for writers list!

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral? i like words that are kind of oddly spelled - hymn, myriad, idyll (hence my username). For a verb, coalesce.

but as for feral in a negative way? it's souvenir. i can never for my life spell it correctly, i always put in extra vowels. Spell check has to save me (as it just did!).

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go? oooooo story without dialogue is probably easier because i already write so. much. exposition as it is. it'll be interesting to go without putting in any dialogue, but there are ways for characters to communicate or express themselves without active dialogue, so i can probably figure it out.

i write dialogue-only snippets when i'm outlining fics and I always get the urge to fill in the blanks with descriptions of actions and so on. a dialogue-only fic for me will not want to stay dialogue-only upon edits haha.

13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy? haha! explicit sexual content! i can read it and plot it just fine, but when it comes to writing the minutiae of it i will combust. It's just easier for me to cut off/fade to black and leave the fic at a mature rating.

not necessarily easy, but i guess pining/longing/nostalgia? i've moved countries a lot when i was younger and it always feels like i'm missing someone or longing for something, and so when I write that kind of content it's easy for me to access my own feelings and channel that into my characters. It's a sort of bittersweetness where the sweetness is your feelings for the person/place/time but bitter because you're apart from whatever it is you're missing, and I like exploring that dichotomy.

32. What is a line from a poem/novel/fanfic etc that you return to from time and time again? How did you find it? What does it mean to you? @derpinathebrave asked the same question so i'll tackle a poem/novel example here and a fanfic one for them!

the last two lines of Clementine von Radics' poem, "Mouthful of Forevers" really stuck with me. I encountered this poem through a Sam/Lucifer SPN fic, How To Fall; the author included poems/excerpts from songs/prose at the beginning of every chapter. The fic has such a visceral depiction of Lucifer's motivations and this poem was just incredibly apt for that point of the fic, as well as being a beautiful work in its own right. Here is the last stanza of the poem:

I know sometimes It's still hard to let me see you In all your cracked perfection, But please know: Whether it's the days you burn More brilliant than the sun Or the nights you collapse into my lap Your body broken into a thousand questions. You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I will love you when you are a still day. I will love you when you are a hurricane.

A line from a novel - definitely this one from Robin Hobb's Realm of the Elderlings series: the Fool's "And I set no limits on that love." It's a recurring line in the series (iirc) as the Fool tries to explain his love to Fitz, and Fitz constantly struggles with understanding/coming to terms with it. I think us fans tend to have mixed feelings about how the Fool and Fitz's relationship is depicted in the series, but that passage where Fitz skill-links with the Fool and experiences the Fool's love for him is just so profound. The Fool's love defies boundaries - it is not romantic or sexual or even platonic, it just is. He loves Fitz, and his love is limitless. I remember reading this book in high school and finding out a friend read it too, and the first thing we both said to each other? "I set no limits on that love." Even though there were (at the time) nine whole books in the series, out of thousands of other lines this one resonated with us the most.

That entire passage is just incredible so I'm gonna stick it under this read more.

"Would you have more than this?" The Fool's voice was less than a whisper. I discerned a challenge in his words, but could not understand it.

"Yes, please. Try," I bade him.

Beside me at the table, I was aware of the Fool making some small movement but my vision was unfocused on the room and I had no warning of his intentions until his hand settled on my wrist. His fingertips unerringly found their own faded gray fingerprints, left on my flesh so many years ago. His touch was gentle, but the sensation was an arrow in my heart. I physically spasmed, a speared fish, and then froze. The Fool ran through my veins, hot as liquor, cold as ice. For a flashing instant, we shared physical awareness. The intensity of it went beyond any joining I'd ever experienced. It was more intimate than a kiss and deeper than a knife thrust, beyond a Skill-link and beyond sexual coupling, even beyond my Wit-bond with Nighteyes. It was not a sharing, it was a becoming. Neither pain nor pleasure could encompass it. Worse, I felt myself turning and opening to it, as if it were my lover's mouth upon mine, yet I did not know if I would devour or be devoured. In another heartbeat, we would be one another, know one another more perfectly than two separate beings ever should.

[…]

Just as I opened my eyes, the Fool's thought uncurled in my mind like a leaf opening to sunlight.

And I set no limits on that love.

[mypsychoticmoodboard]

April 6th, 2024

I often think about the Ernest Hemingway quote, "There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a type writer and bleed." And I do think that is the easy part. It is when you get to the point where you are trying to make sense of all of that bleeding where it gets messy. The words will come out, but they do not always make sense. That is where I am at right now.

I am 375 pages into a novel that I have been working on for the better part of 9 years now. Since it was written throughout the years, some of the writing is out of touch with who I am now, and since I never took the time to really read it through in its entirety until now, I am finding that there are plot holes that need filling. This weekend was the perfect opportunity for me to take some time to fill those plot holes, but I just do not have the bandwidth right now.

And these changes are happening slowly. I am taking the time to write for maybe an hour or so a day, and over time it will get done. I took a step back to take the pressure off of myself, but I was just born with a 'too much' gene. I want to throw myself into it. Get lost. Do nothing but write, edit, and polish this thing. All the while, I am feeling like I need to stand back and get some perspective. So I am going with the original plan. Have fun. Take my time. It will be done when it is done.

I am trying to get better about trusting in the process too. I am just such a control freak. I want to know all of the pesky details, so I can try to micromanage them.

On another note, I am feeling the pressure at work. I hate my job, and there is no other way around it. I try to be nice and say that I like the people I work with. I do not. I would not be friends with any of them in my personal life. They make my job way more complicated than it needs to be with their inability to make decisions quickly. And it has been eating at me slowly for some years now. Years.

If I had it my way, my full time job would be writing. Just writing. I feel entitled to that too. Why am I not being given the opportunity to have that? And the thing is, that I will, just not now. But like I said, at my core I am an impatient control freak. I want it to happen on my time, and that time is now.

Me leaving this job has to be timed correctly too. I keep seeing videos of people being like "no job is worth your mental health". All the while that is true, I also need to make a living. I like living in a nice apartment, and I like being able to pay my bills. Hopefully I am teaching myself some grit by staying with this bogus job for the time being.

I am going on vacation at the end of May, so I am waiting for that to be over with, and then I am giving myself the permission to leave. That is when I will begin my quest into really looking into new jobs. My next frontier is out there, and I will find it. It is just looking a little stormy right now.

(***Self harm trigger warning***)

On a last and more morbid note, when I am finding that I am getting very sad, I am feeling the urge to hurt myself again. I used to cut myself for a few years, and it was a way that I could get my aggression and sadness out. And the worst part of it all, is that I liked it. I liked cleaning up the blood afterward, and I liked how the cuts burned in the shower afterward. It felt like the manifestation of my mental pain in the physical realm. It was putting a name to the face.

I will never, ever go back to that. And that I know for sure, but to have those urges come up makes me realize that those pesky thoughts will linger until the end of time. You never really officially get over anything; it just becomes easier to deal with.

And I have just been thinking about it more because I have been getting quite a few tattoos within the last 6 months, and the sensation is similar but not the same to cutting myself. And I like it. But at least with this, I am getting art on my body instead of scars that take years to fade, but never even go away completely.

This was long-winded, but it just feels like I am standing at the precipice of change. I am no longer fighting the winds of change. I am going to let them carry me--the best that I can.

[cybermeep]

as i was walking home, i saw the remnants of a flower on the soil and scattered leaves. it was long dead, petals still on by a thread. petals also a yellow-beige hue. wondered what color they were when the plant was in bloom. theres a few different possibilities; pink, purple, blue, green….

..the only reason i even realized it was fully a hydrangea was both the amount of petals it had and simultaneously remembering the inner workings of my mind when i plucked a petal from one once because of its color and color only. sentiment likely thrown away. few petals fell off on the way home.

i pondered visiting the cemetery as the bus was one stop before mine, near the area. realized it wasn’t the ideal weather. maybe once the sakura blossoms come up again. on the route home, i got reminded how far a walk from the school to home was. around two hours. i do not like a memory which comes up when i remember this. don’t like two of them, actually

boy i like talking to called me a girl. i was stuck because he and our teacher were both simultaneously talking to me. she said my deadname. i wanted to briefly respond to him and make a correction, but too much was going on at once.. so i didn’t. its fine.

i have a sore throat and my right arm was in uncomfortable, somewhat burning pain. kept my cardigan on for most of the day. was uncomfortable when it came off. had to take it off when it got hot but then put it back on when i felt too exposed & insert cycle here. had the overwhelming urge to tell the memory i had in mind when the person across from me mentioned how the pizza was awful. i managed to compose myself. felt bad for existing in a given place, uncomfortable for merely being a sight to see at a glance. i don’t know why i feel the need to apologize for simply existing. i think its because i am acutely paranoid of being an issue. this hasn’t changed, although its been gradually decreasing in intensity. its still a constant in my life, though.

i had bluntly asked a friend the question of if he hypothetically wanted to kill himself, what would stop him. this was odd. i had asked him if he ever was just randomly afraid. he said no. i am.. bad at remaining a person under pressure. i default to blunt and crude things. i talk, but i don’t actually speak. i say things of little value or meaning. i am a nuisance when i am under pressure, to put it bluntly

i don’t know what the point of this was. hopefully snow day tomorrow. i revel in sitting in the cold. i would like to build a snowman with someone someday. i know its childish in nature, but its something i never truly got to do. i hope i can have more deep conversations, too. that would be nice. i would like to talk about novels and etymology. or philosophy. i don’t look very philosophical as i just tend to look plain silly. i don’t know what i am. we could also discuss weather. or rain. or snow. or.. anything. someday. somehow.

dune has also grown on me. its more tolerable recently. i like the planetologist character. i like studious characters in writing. i especially like atticus from the new pokemon game, as he speaks very.. Shakespearian. i enjoy it.

i should also move to the honors section of my science class. i’ll try to do that soon

[writing-for-life]

The Light of Stars (WT)

Okay, after much agonising, I’m finally doing it:

The ginormous (well over the 50,000 words-goal) fanfic I wrote “for fun” last NaNoWriMo and never wanted to touch again, never mind publish, has been haunting me for over 6 months now, and I need to bless and release it so I can get on with my life 🤪

So I've pledged to myself I will publish it, chapter for chapter, tidy it up along the way, maybe rewrite a few things that really weren't thought through when I "just had fun", and quite possibly add bits that I've thought about ever since (November 2022).

I’m aiming to publish one chapter weekly on a Friday, but that might change here and there (might be more or less frequently), so bear with me. You will get an excerpt here, but the full chapter will only be available on Ao3 via the link provided.

A word of warning: This is a full-length romance novel and hence a slow burn. If you’re into shorts that have their MCs f*** within the shortest amount of time, you won’t find much joy in this. I occasionally write those, too, but this is not that. However, good things come to those who wait, also in this one 😉

I will tidy up the posts as I move along and create a masterpost, but this first one needed a bit more of an intro.

And don’t forget that creators really appreciate your likes, but that we’re even more grateful for comments and reblogs.

Here we go…

The Light of Stars (WT) by Writing-for-Life

Chapters: 1/?

Fandom: The Sandman (Comics), The Sandman (TV 2022)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Dream of the Endless | Morpheus & Original Character(s), Dream Of The Endless | Morpheus & Original Female Character(s)

Characters: Original Female Character(s), Dream of the Endless | Morpheus

Summary:

This is a story about traumatic pasts, deep empathy and healing, but also one of sacrifice. Most of all, it is a story about choosing love despite knowing it has the power to break us…

Artist Thalia Callaghan has strange dreams, but it soon turns out they are more than just dreams.

Night after night, she enters Dream’s throne room, much to her confusion and his dismay. They reluctantly agree to embark on a quest to find out why Thalia has abilities that are usually not granted to mortals - unless there is a greater plan at work.

Chapter 1 - Juxtapositions (1898 words)

“You can’t be here.”

His voice was soft, and yet, it had startled her because she thought she was alone in this vast hall – she couldn’t even remember how she got there. She turned around, and he stood halfway up white marble stairs that seemed to go nowhere - or did they? It was hard to tell - cascades of light flooded the room through seemingly endless stained-glass windows behind him. She could only make out his shape, but none of his features.

All she could say was: “Who are you?”

He slowly walked down the stairs, his long black robe brushing them with every step. Heavy, yet light. The closer he came, the more his face came into focus. Hard, yet soft.

When he stood right in front of her, she noticed the intense brightness of his eyes. The palest blue, or maybe grey?

Silver.

They seemed cold, and yet they were burning with an intense heat – just like stars.

If she had ever seen someone full of juxtapositions, he was standing right in front of her now: In all his unearthly verisimilitude, all his ethereal physicality.

She had never seen anyone so beautiful. Even so, she caught herself thinking that “beautiful” was the wrong word. He wasn’t beautiful in the usual sense of the word: His features were sharp, his skin pale, he was tall and slender, almost wraith-like. An air of haughtiness surrounded him, but he seemed to radiate serenity at the same time. And it enveloped her within an instant.

Surprising. Unexpected.

She felt the irrepressible urge to touch his face, framed with hair so dark it made him look like a black-and-white photograph. However, her hand stopped midway, or rather: It felt like something, or someone, was stopping it, like an invisible wall.

He looked at her closely, his eyes full of inevitable certainty.

“This dream is over…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thalia gasped and opened her eyes…

Keep reading on Ao3

[faeriecap]

MCALPINE SESSIONS ANON HERE, FRIEND!!! I HAVEN'T ABANDONED YOU!!!! ❤️❤️ Life is just a bitch and I've been honestly working on some writing of my own 👀 Plus being an adult means bills which means money which means working......'tis a lot. But trust and believe, I am watching your space every so often and am still patiently awaiting any news you could give. 😊 Also, just because your blog is pleasing to look at lol. Hope you're well, lovely!

AAAAAAA MY FRIEND!!! i just came back from a mini tumblr hiatus to see ur ask at the top of my notifs and i truly feel like i’m receiving a long awaited missive from my love at the front (lol stevebucky vibes) or an age old friend in a jane austen novel LMAO that is to say IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN!!!!! i’m sorry life is a bitch :((( bills suck and as someone currently unemployed i respect the hustle! congrats on your own writing!!! i would love to know more about it and share in uplifting u just as much as ur excitement for tms uplifts me <333 i hope you’re well also and you’ll be pleased to know i’ve made plans for two more portions of the series, at the beginning, one which will be set during/between the events of catfa as a prequel/flashback of sorts and one which will take place during catws to give us a little more samsteve ;) i was also possessed with the urge to write an entirely new scene untethered to any of the other vignettes i had outlined so im not sure where exactly it’ll go but i’m excited!!! once i’m settled into my new apartment and job i think i’m going to do a cap trio rewatch to polish up my memory of the canon and then finally get to work on setting more of my ideas down, so expect more updates within the next few months for sure if not sooner :) im trying to keep this one quick by doing a lot of time skips and not forcing myself to take on another massive wip project lol so once it’s beta-d i’ll likely have it up right away! 🤡 lots of love, anon x

here! i give u sneak peak at the random scene:

“Hey, how come you can help Sam make the gumbo and I have to just sit here and watch?”

Bucky snorts, reaching back a hand to grab the roux Sam’s holding. “You can’t cook for shit, Stevie. And that’s okay.”

“That’s offensive! I make a damn near excellent soda bread and it tastes just as good as my ma’s.”

“Yeah, and why d’ya think that was the first and only thing she showed you how to make? Sarah Rogers knew if she went any further than bread, her son would burn down the whole freakin’ tenement.”

Steve stares at the curves of Bucky’s back as he stirs, and licks his lips. “Come over here and say that to my face, Barnes.”

Bucky sidles up to him, brings their faces close enough to almost touch. “I’m saying you’re a tragic case of arson waiting to happen, Rogers. And you can’t be trusted with something as important as Sam’s jambalaya.”

Steve raises one eyebrow. “So what I’m hearing is you think I’m hot?”

Bucky chokes on a soft laugh. “That was even worse than your cooking.”

“Then it’s a good thing you’re the chef.”

“Yeah, so shaddup and let me cook.”

[criminalmindzjunkie]

The More Loving One

Masterlist

Summary: Professor Reid finds himself falling for a student. 

A/N: This fic is based on this request. I changed a few things up, but I hope you like the finished product!

Long time, no see! It seems like forever since I got to sit down and just enjoy writing something. And enjoy this, I did. I approached this one a bit differently than I usually do, but I like how it turned out none the less. I hope you all enjoy my take on the Professor Reid arc. The first poem I use in this fic is titled The More Loving One by W.H. Auden, and the second is from a collection of Perry poetry.

Also, I recently hit 2k followers, which is absolutely unbelievable. I can’t even begin to explain how thankful I am for each and every one of you. This fic is my love letter to you. Thank you all so much. 

Pairing: Professor!Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Content Warnings: a few swear words maybe?, teacher x student relationship, age gap, exhibitionism (sorta?), vaginal fingering, unprotected sex

Word Count: 4k

           For as long as Spencer can remember, he’s always had a predilection for the finer things in life.

           Spencer attributes the origin of his preferences to his upbringing. In his childhood, before his mother’s disease got the better of her, she exposed him to all sorts of literature. While he ventured to read all types of writings, he’d always been partial to tales of extravagance. A young Spencer Reid sought refuge in the profligacy of it all, as it was so starkly different from his own reality. Forced to bear the burden of household and a sick mother from an early age, Spencer’s own life left little room for reckless indulgence.

           Now, as a single adult male, Spencer makes it a point to give himself up to the finer things as often as he can. Spencer isn’t a rich man, nor is he careless with what hard-earned money he does have. He simply likes to treat himself to the occasional five-star meal, and even more frequently, posh clothing and rare books. Walls lined with hundreds of antiquarian novels and a closet full of Comme Des Garçon cardigans are where the indulgence ends, however, and until recently Spencer was content with this.

           But when she strolls into his life on the very first day of his teaching career, Spencer knows that his small luxuries will no longer be enough to keep him satisfied. The part of him that longs to have only the very best roars to life as he takes in every perfect inch of her. She stands before him, the embodiment of divinity and grace, looking like every fantasy he only dares to conjure up in the late hours of the night. A litany of cliches from every piece of romantic literature he’s ever read spring to the forefront of his mind in the instant that her eyes met his, but there is nothing stereotypical about the way her gaze banishes the air from his lungs. It is as jarring as it is intoxicating. He never wants to look away.

           Unfortunately, she doesn’t feel the same. With a light flush of her cheeks, she turns away from him, and in an equally unfortunate turn of events, she proceeds to shuffle down the aisle and into the second row of seats to the right of the podium. The realization that washes over him feels like ice water in his veins.

           She’s a student. Worse even – she’s his student.

           Spencer wrenches his gaze from her as if he’s been burned, and the fiery shame of his embarrassment makes him tug at his collar. As he struggles to stave away the lingering heat in his chest and even more embarrassingly, the tightness in his trousers, Spencer chastises himself. His own carnal urges often go ignored, a fact that is glaringly obvious as he cowers behind his podium in an attempt to hide his arousal. He feels more than a little bit pathetic. No self-respecting thirty-five-year-old man gets hard just from gazing upon a beautiful young woman.

           When Spencer pulls himself together enough to start his lecture, he positively forbids himself to look her way. It is hard to fight the urge, but every time he catches his eyes wandering to her, he reminds himself that she is an indulgence he simply cannot partake in. No matter how badly he wants to.

--

           It doesn’t take long for her to notice him noticing her.

           In the early days of the semester, she manages to convince herself that the stolen glances are but a figment of her overactive imagination. That, or an unhealthy dose of wishful thinking. But as the semester stretches on and the professor’s eyes linger more and more, wishful thinking gives way to a startling realization that she isn’t alone in her attraction. Professor Reid is, to her complete and utter astonishment, just as taken with her as she is with him.

           This is all but confirmed when a slight brushing of the hands during an exchange of papers leaves them both with flushed cheeks and pounding hearts. Both of their heads snap up, two sets of eyes meeting in a prolonged stare that results in an understanding of sorts. It’s mutual, this thing blossoming between them. She can see her own hopes reflected in two velvet pools of brown – can see the longing, the desire that burns within them. Her heart soars, as she imagines his does, and she accepts the papers with a smile.

           She also imagines that, if he could, he would tell her to wait for him. He would tell her that, for now, their relationship must stay strictly professional.

           This doesn’t stop them from sating their cravings in other ways.

           She makes it a point to stop by during office hours at least twice a week. Her visits always fall under the guise of her studies, but within minutes their hushed conversations stray from the professional and towards a more personal nature. She learns of Spencer’s mother and her condition, of his unusual job and his coworkers that were more like family. In return, she tells him about her upbringing in southern California, as well as her dreams of becoming a criminal psychologist. They never go as far as to discuss what will happen when the semester comes to a close. It is an unspoken agreement that the end of the semester will find them in each other’s arms. All they have to do is wait.

           Spencer can’t voice his affections with words, but he more than makes up for this with his actions. Without fail, every Monday following the very first clandestine brushing of hands, lavish bouquets of flowers arrive at her workplace. Each bouquet is always paired with a notecard inscribed with a brief explanation of the meaning behind that week’s flower of choice. Cherry blossoms to pay homage to her beauty, plumeria to symbolize their new beginning, agrimony to convey his thankfulness that she is willing to wait for him.

           Her favorite bouquet arrives four weeks before the end of the semester. As she steps through the doors of the bakery, a vase full of nine red roses sits atop the counter. The sight of them nearly takes her breath away. She pauses for a moment and runs her fingertips across the velveteen petals before plucking the notecard from its place.

           This week, Spencer chooses to forgo the explanation in favor of a messily scrawled poem;

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well

that, for all they care, I can go to hell,

But on earth indifference is the least

we have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn 

with a passion for us we could not return?

If equal affection cannot be,

let the more loving one be me. 

           That evening, Spencer receives his first bouquet from her. On his desk sits an arrangement of pale pink ambrosia.

           The meaning isn’t lost on him, but if it were, the note that sits next to the vase makes her intentions clear.

We never had to force love.

We were drowning in it from the moment we met.

--

           Spencer is horribly frustrated.

           A mere twenty feet away from where he stands, the notoriously garish and wholly unprofessional PhD program director is gesticulating wildly to the young woman that stands trapped between him and the hors d’oeuvre table. To find Professor Van Wesep in such a position is not uncommon, due to his penchant for trying to charm (terrorize) the prospective female doctoral candidates. The man is practically a walking harassment complaint waiting to happen. Spencer would abhor Van Wesep even if he weren’t the only thing standing in the way of him and his lover.

           At long last, the semester has drawn to a close. The lonely nights spent longing to hold her in his arms are a thing of the past. By the time the sun rises again, Spencer will no longer have to wonder what her body will feel like pressed against his. He’ll be thoroughly acquainted with every inch of her, and she with him. The thought sends a thrilled chill down his spine.

           The torturous foreplay they’ve been engaging in for the last four months would have surely broken a lesser man. Spencer would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted on more than one occasion to have her during one of her frequent visits to his office. Some days, when her visits came later in the evenings, just as the sun began to dip low in the sky, her eyes would glisten in such a way that told Spencer her thoughts were none dissimilar to his own. That glimmer of lust had him holding on to his restraint by the skin of his teeth.

           And here they were, on the last evening of the semester. Final grades had been submitted and were released hours prior. Spencer would have been content to skip this event altogether, in favor of more… recreational activities, but his lover insisted on attending.

           Initially, Spencer assumed her insistence lay in her desire to mingle with her future peers and mentors. Her true intentions come to light when she breezes into the room clad in a pair of sleek, designer pumps. Her lips, painted fire engine red, curl up into a playful smile at the sight of a slack-jawed Spencer Reid. The devious glint in her eye twinkles sinfully in the light.

           Tonight isn’t a social call at all. Tonight, she wants to play with him.

           And play she has.

           From the second she arrives all eyes are fixating on her celestial beauty. Peers and mentors alike trip over themselves in their haste to capture her attention, if only for a fleeting moment. She works the room flawlessly, leaving a trail of smitten men of all ages in her wake.

           The most smitten is Spencer himself, because he’s the lone recipient of countless heated glances, as well as more than a few knowing smirks. She well aware of what she’s doing to him, and she takes pleasure in watching him squirm.

          Spencer intervenes when Van Wesep makes the ill-advised decision to reach a hand up to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. He barely has the time to withdraw his hand before Spencer is upon them.

          “I apologize for the interruption,” Spencer casts a faux apologetic glance at his colleague, before settling his gaze on his target. “Ms. Y/L/N, may I speak to you for a moment?”

           She looks positively gleeful. Perhaps Spencer should have intervened hours ago.

           “Absolutely, Professor Reid.”

           The honorific sends a jolt of heat straight to his groin. He definitely should have stolen her away earlier.

           The two of them say their goodbyes to a confused Professor Van Wesep, whose imploring eyes follow them as they hurriedly slip from the party and down the hallway.

--

           “Where are we going?”

           Spencer leads her down a long corridor, far beyond earshot of the other guests. Pushing her into a dark corner, he positions her between himself and the cold wooden door of an unoccupied office. The only sounds that can be heard are the distant thrum of the music and the eager pants falling from his lover’s lips.

           Spencer pulls her into a searing kiss, one hand tangling in her hair and the other finding purchase on her waist. He worries for a moment that he’s being too rough with her, that he should have taken a more careful approach to their first kiss, but she assuages those worries when she kisses him back with equal enthusiasm. Her hand reaches between them and clutches his tie, then she’s pulling him closer and whining wantonly against his lips. Spencer takes this as an invitation to slip his tongue inside and he finds himself letting out a low groan when he tastes a hint of strawberry.

           Spencer pulls away to catch his breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

           “Oh, I think I do, Professor,” she laughs, breathless. “Probably just as long as I’ve wanted to do this.”

           Spencer jolts forward when her hand slides down to cup him over his trousers.

           “Could’ve done that a lot earlier if you hadn’t insisted on teasing me for the entire night,” Spencer growls through gritted teeth. He’s more than a little proud of his ability to string together a sentence with her hand working him over with slow, steady strokes.

           He trails a line of kisses across the underside of her jaw, before taking her earlobe and nipping it lightly with his canine. Spencer’s actions are rewarded with a full body shudder. He dips his tongue in the hollow at the base of her throat and her hands ball into fists against his dress shirt.

           “Spencer, please.”

           Spencer hums and pulls back to look at her. The hand in her hair lowers, and he trails a thumb across where her nipples are hard against the fabric of her dress.

           “Yes, my love?”

           Her eyes flutter against the weight of her arousal, and Spencer twitches in his pants. The sight of her with her hair disheveled and her lipstick smeared on account of him is a heavenly thing. He doesn’t know how he ever deprived himself of such a splendor.

           “I want you. Right now.” She punctuates her words by pulling him down into a frenzied kiss. One of her hands tangles itself in the hair at the nape of his neck while the other busies with tugging his shirt out of his pants.

           “Right now?” Spencer taunts, mouth against mouth. His hand trails down the side of her breast, caressing her rib cage and her hip before stopping at her upper thigh. Spencer’s fingertips toy with the tops of her lace thigh highs. “But anyone could walk by and see us.”

           “I don’t care,” she argues, fumbling clumsily as she struggles to undo his belt buckle.

           Spencer’s wandering hand dips below the hem of her dress to explore the silky-smooth skin of her inner thigh. She’s soft here, too, he thinks to himself as his hand travels up, up, up. He stops just short of where she wants him most and she lets out a despairing cry.

           “You wouldn’t mind someone walking by and seeing you with your pretty legs spread wide for your professor?”

           Spencer brings life to his words by lifting her leg up, hitching her thigh around his hip and pressing into her. The silk fabric of her dress rustles as he pushes it up and out of the way.

��          A breathy moan tumbles from her lips as he rocks against her, dragging his arousal up and down the front of her lace panties. The friction is maddening in that it provides only the smallest bit of relief. It’s not enough for Spencer, and judging by the way she desperately pushes down the fabric of his pants, it’s not enough for his partner, either.

           “Need to get these off now,” she murmurs against Spencer’s mouth. An eager hand tugs at the elastic band of his underwear.

           Spencer places his hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Not so fast, baby. Gotta make sure you’re ready for me first.”

           Her fingers clamp down on Spencer’s wrist, guiding him to the sodden lace between her thighs.

           “Don’t think that’s gonna be a problem,” she whimpers as Spencer’s fingers take appraisal of the drenched cloth. “In fact, I think four months of foreplay is sufficient enough. Wouldn’t you say?”

           “Maybe so,” Spencer muses, voice muffled as he sucks at the skin of her neck. “But I’m not willing to chance hurting you our first time together. You’re entirely too precious to me.”

           Spencer captures her lips in a kiss so sweet it has her sighing into his mouth. When he pulls away, he fixes her with a smile.

           “You’re not particularly fond of these panties, are you?”

           Her eyebrows pull together. “No, why?”

           Spencer pulls at the flimsy fabric harshly and it gives way under the force of it. He reaches back to stuff the thong in his back pocket.

           “That’s why.”

           Spencer’s lips come down against hers at the same time his middle and index fingers drag across her slickness. His foresight pays off when his mouth muffles the sound of her cries. As confident he is that they won’t be found, a cry like that would certainly have drawn unwanted attention.

           The swipe of his thumb across her crest paired with the gentle pressure of his fingers dipping into her heat is enough to make her legs buckle. Had it not been for Spencer pressing her against the wall, she surely would have fallen to the ground in a trembling heap.

           “I could get lost in you for hours,” Spencer groans, curling his fingers inside her in such a way that makes her clutch desperately to his shirt.

           “Spencer, oh my God,” she keens. “I need you, please.”

           “You have me, my love,” Spencer whispers the promise against her parted lips. “You’ve had me since the first moment I laid eyes on you.”

           Spencer speeds up the onslaught of his fingers until the telltale tightening of her heat warns him of her impending climax. He has to bite down on his lower lip to regain his own composure. The feeling of her tight and wet around his fingers is almost too good.

           “Spencer, I’m getting close,” she whimpers.

           Spencer continues until she’s on the cusp of tumbling over the edge, until one more pass of his fingers against her crest would surely seal the deal, and then he’s removing his hand and taking a step back.

           “Spencer, what the fu-,” she pauses when he promptly shoves his pants and underwear just enough to free himself from their painful confines. “Oh.”

           A dazed smile makes its way to her face as Spencer presses himself against her once more. He sweeps her up into a kiss comprised of pure, unadulterated desire, before pulling away and smirking deviously at her.

           “Jump.”

           It takes a moment for her pleasure fogged brain to make sense of the request, but as soon as it does, she complies without question.

           Spencer’s hands grip her thighs firmly and in one swift thrust he sheaths himself into her fully – an indulgence so grand that all others dull in comparison. Now that he’s had the finest, felt it wrapped around him like warm velvet, he can’t imagine a world in which he must live without it.

           “Spencer!”

           Spencer swears he’s never heard a sweeter sound than her crying out his name as their bodies come together for the first time. It’s synonymous with a siren call, he thinks, because in that moment she could lure him to certain death and he knows he would go with a smile.

           His lips seek purchase on the exposed skin of her chest as he buries himself in her paradise again and again. The sharp sting of her heels digging into his back with every thrust brings out a sort of primal urge in him, spurring him to rut up into her like a man possessed.

           “You feel perfect,” Spencer groans out against the flushed skin of her neck. He presses a soft kiss to where her pulse bounds just beneath the skin before pulling away and locking eyes with her. “When I’m old and gray and can remember nothing else, I’ll remember this. I’ll remember how it felt to kiss you for the first time – how it felt to touch you. How it felt to worship you and make love to your body.”

           Spencer’s voices catches, thick and overwhelmed with emotion.

           “I’ll remember how it feels to love you.”

           Her breath catches in her throat and sharp pang of panic burns hot in his chest. Had he misinterpreted her affections? Did she not burn for him in the same way? Perhaps the ambrosia meant nothing. Spencer’s movements falter, and for several torturous seconds he’s nearly paralyzed with fear.

            She silences those fears with a kiss.

           “Oh, Spencer,” she sighs as she presses her forehead against his. “I love you, too. More than you could ever comprehend.”

           Spencer resumes moving in and out of her, but the frenzied feeling from before is replaced with something else now. Something softer, but no less passionate.

           “Yeah?” he inquires, searching her eyes for any trace of insincerity. He finds none, and it’s a relief. Any hint of falseness in her claim would surely lead to a heartbreak he could never recover from.

           “Yes.” The word trails off into a moan. “I love you, Spencer Reid. I don’t imagine I’ll ever stop.”

           Spencer’s heart jolts and he whines pathetically against her mouth. “I’m counting on that.”

           “I’m close, Spencer,” she pants, her breath hitting his face in warm puffs. “Don’t think I can last much longer.”

           “Me, too.” Spencer nudges her nose with his own. “Reach between us and touch yourself, my love. I want us to cum together. Can you do that for me?”

           She nods, and the hand that clung to his right shoulder dips in between them to rub tight circles against her crest. Spencer doubles his efforts when he sees her eyelids flutter closed, and the resulting tightening of her core leaves him panting hard.

           “Spencer, I-” her breath catches in her throat as Spencer delivers a particularly strong thrust. Her head falls against his shoulder, her soft moans of his name like heaven to his ears.

           “Cum with me, baby,” Spencer grunts out desperately. He needs it like he needs air to breath and water to drink. And once he has it, he knows he’ll need it again and again.

           She gives it to him with a muffled cry of his name and he’s instantly swept away, drowning in the blissful way her body sings for him. His body follows her lead, shattering completely under her fingertips.

           While he’s been through similar acts with previous partners, those instances always felt impersonal and clinical. The caresses and whispered words were all a means to an end, an end that usually left him feeling lonelier and emptier than when he started. But right now, as he feels the beat of her heart pressed against his own, he swears he couldn’t feel fuller - full of adoration, full of affection, full of love. It’s beautiful and overwhelming and everything Spencer didn’t know he was looking for.

           A raucous round of applause erupts from the direction of the party, startling the two of them. Spencer feels her laugh against his neck.

           “It’s almost as if they were applauding us for a job well done.”

           Spencer presses a chaste kiss to the crown of her head.

           “As they should. That was sensational.”

           Spencer carefully pulls out and lowers her to the floor. He wastes no time in tilting her chin up and capturing her lips in a reverent kiss. Spencer hopes his lips convey his gratitude.

           The two of them pull apart and set to making themselves presentable. Their efforts prove to be in vain when Spencer points out a dark purple love bite nestled into the crook of her neck. She counters this by taking note of the smudge of red lipstick on his collar.

           “What an adulterous pair we make, Professor.”

           Spencer rolls his eyes good-naturedly. “I’m not your professor anymore.” He bends down and places a kiss to her lips before taking her hand in his.

           “I suppose you’re not,” she muses as they meander down the corridor. “Whatever shall we do now?”

           As the two of them step out of the dark hallway and reenter the party, Spencer smiles to himself. Visions of wedding rings flit through his mind. Spencer supposes he’ll have to take a break from the posh clothing and rare books in favor of saving his money. He’ll buy only the finest ring for his future wife, after all.

           “I have a few ideas.”

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Desperate Measures.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaeya/Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 2.2k.

TW: Kidnapping, Emotional Manipulation, Implied Stalking, and Delusional Mindsets.

Kaeya was a man, distracted.

Distracted. Divided. Not inattentive, but pulled away from his responsibilities by a force he couldn’t name and couldn’t say he cared for, either. He wasn’t a stranger to romantic inclinations — fantasies, sudden flings, slow-burning inclinations that died the moment his attention was called elsewhere. Predictably, the few relationships he allowed himself were short-lived, at best distasterous at worst, but he didn’t have a problem with that. If anything, Kaeya appreciated it. He’d always thought of company as optional, and what little loneliness he was still capable of feeling could be drowned with a generous glass of wine. He wasn’t one to linger. He tried not to overstay his welcome. He’d been sentimental, once, too emotional for his own good, and he’d learned his lesson. He didn’t intend to change.

He didn’t want to change.

And yet, here he was.

Distracted.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t focus. It was all he could do to look like he might’ve been trying to read the most recent document left on his desk – this one from Jean, a directive for the younger knights or legislation she needed him to review or another vague, important report that he probably would’ve dealt with weeks ago, if he’d been able to concentrate.

He made a half-hearted effort to straighten his back as the door to his office began to open, but Kaeya dropped the act quickly, abandoning it completely by the time he heard the sound of heeled boots against hollow tile, caught a glimpse of a familiar (albeit, rarely used) catalyst, searched for eyes and found the cover of a thin book, instead, your face still buried in your newest novel as you stepped through the threshold, not bothering to knock. It was you. He should’ve known it would be. Who else did he deserve?

You, Lisa’s new assistant. You, the latest addition to the Knights of Favonius. You, his current, infuriating, unshakable fixation.

You, the new recruit who hadn’t paid him so much as a passing glance since your arrival, much to Kaeya’s frustration.

You didn’t look at him. You rarely ever did, but it hurt more than it usually did, today, as you dropped another form onto his desk, letting it replace the greeting you’d forgotten to offer. “Lisa needs you to sign this,” You started, laying out your priorities clearly, a skill Kaeya was beginning to resent. “It’s just next year’s budget. If you don’t want to read it, I think I’ll be able to look the other way.”

He glanced over the rows of numbers, the messy hand-writing, the columns of meaningless gibberish that blended together into a mess of ink and digits, and took your suggestion, scrawling his name across the only blank line. It was a lost cause, especially with you in the room. Especially with your unoccupied hand resting on his desk, your fingertips idly tapping an unsteady rhythm into the wood, and all he could think about was who he’d be willing to kill to feel that hand pressed against his cheek.

He considered asking you, for a moment, giving you an order and hoping you'd absent-mindedly obey. He thought about touching you, or running his fingers through your hair, or pulling you into his lap and mumbling sweet-nothings into your ear until someone else dragged you away.

He thought about a lot of things. Then, he said, “I take it your silence comes at a price?”

“Do I seem that selfish to you?” You were selfish. You had to be selfish. If you weren’t, then surely you would’ve been kind enough to put him out of his misery months ago. “I like helping people. Just remember this when I need a favor from you.”

“I’m sure we could work something more immediate out,” He went on, but you were already starting towards the door, calling the conversation to a close before Kaeya could begin to finish. In the back of his mind, something flared, the urge to catch your wrist, to go after you, to put himself between you and the only exit and refuse to move until you looked at him, but he forced it down, swallowing the temptation before it could eclipse his common sense. He couldn’t be impulsive. He couldn’t make rash decisions. He wasn’t prepared to deal with how difficult that would make things, not now.

Not yet.

“Join me for a drink?” He tried, again, attempting to sound unbothered. Nonchalant, casual, normal. Like he wasn’t itching to burn every book you’d touched. “I know you don’t have anything better to--”

“Another night, Captain.”

And just like that, you were gone, leaving Kaeya’s muttered response to echo through his empty office.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, desperate.

Like a starving dog. Like a traveler who hadn’t seen water in thirty days. Like a distraught, distressed, disturbed knight, wandering through a maze of a library, cursing the existence of every shelf that separated him from you. He knew where you'd be. You were a creature of habit, and he’d already had more than enough time to memorize your routine. He’d had enough time to memorize everything about you, as ashamed as he was to admit it. It was a testament to his devotion, to how much time he’d spent trying and failing to win your favor.

It was evidence of how pathetic he’d gotten, over the course of his one-sided pursuit.

You were in your usual spot – tucked into the far corner of the library, perched on the edge of a windowsill, your attention monopolized by the tattered scroll spread across your lap. You were still pouring over it by the time he reached you, slumping against the nearest wall, taking in how brilliantly the muted sunlight looked as it danced across your skin. He didn’t try to hide the way he stared, anymore. He was long past worrying that you’d care enough to notice. Your hair was unkempt, proof that’d you slept in the archives again, if you’d slept at all. Your lips were bleeding, too, the lower one chewed raw and split down the middle, but it might’ve been stranger if they weren’t. It must’ve been a nervous tick, but Kaeya found it cute. Kaeya found it endearing. Kaeya found everything about you endearing, and to the archons, he wanted to see those lips wrapped around his co--

And he hated it. He found everything about you endearing, and he hated it. That was all.

He sighed, the sound airy, exhausted. You didn’t look up, but that was fine. It would’ve only hurt him further if someone as simple as that drew out your concern. “I’m in love with you.”

There was a hum, soft and contemplative. A rather generous response, by your standards. “I’ve noticed.”

“You’re all I think about.” It was an awkward confession, one he’d already used a hundred different times. He didn’t care. He’d use it a hundred more, if he had to. “I’m a wreck. I can barely remember my own name, and some days I can’t even do that. I can’t fight, I can’t eat, I can hardly breathe. Every morning, I wonder what it would be like to wake up to your smile, and every night, I stare at my ceiling and loath myself because I’m not holding you in my arms. For fuck’s sake, just yesterday, I almost kissed Albedo because the chemicals he was working with reminded me of the way your favorite kind of flower smells, and I’m just so fucking desperate, I convinced myself that was the closest I’d ever come to kissing you.”

He was rambling, by the end, panting, yelling, but you only blinked when he was done, once, then twice. Your dull nails bit into the edges of your scroll, but you didn’t seem to mind, nor did you move to roll it up as you finally turned to face him, the confusion written clearly across your expression. “You kissed Albedo?”

“You don’t get it,” He said, and you nodded in agreement. “You don’t fucking get it.”

“I think I do,” You admitted, more earnestly. Your gaze dropped back to the ground, and instantly, Kaeya deflated. “I just… I just don’t think it’d work out, if I’m being honest. I’m still new. I still have to give everyone else a reason to trust me, and I don’t think it’s in my best interest to start a relationship with one of my superiors so early on.” You paused, laughing to yourself, and something in Kaeya’s chest tightened. It was the happiest he’d been since he met you, and he still felt like you’d pushed a sword through his heart and twisted. “But, you don’t really want a relationship, do you? You’re just bored, and you need something to fixate on. I’m the most available option, so...” You trailed off, finishing your sentence with a vague, stilted sweeping gesture. “It’ll be easier for both of us, this way. I like you, Captain, but I don’t like you enough to put myself through that.”

It was all he could do to remember how to open his mouth. Once he did, the words came stumbling out on their own.

“Of course.”

~

Kaeya was a man, determined.

Determined might’ve been the wrong word for it. Too soft, too suggestive, the impression too positive and the meaning too vague. ‘Depraved’ might’ve suited him better, but that was too harsh, too primitive, and he’d like to think he’d been as gentle as anyone could expect him to be, given your stubbornness. He’d tried to be gentle. He’d wanted to be gentle. If he was going to do this to you, he could at least do it gently. You deserved that much, at least.

Or, maybe you didn’t. Maybe you didn’t deserve any of this.

He couldn’t really make up his mind, about that.

“Lisa?”

And he was gentle, more so than he had to be. Sure, you were on the floor, bare stone already beginning to chafe at your skin, but the shackles around your wrists were padded, and he’d given you enough slack to sit down, to ball yourself up, to act like it’d never crossed your mind that he’d resort to something so… easily misinterpreted. The blindfold was, similarly, an act of mercy. You’d panic if you woke up like this, chained to a wall in someone else’s cellar, and Kaeya didn’t want that. You needed time, and he could give you that. He would give you that. Even if it pained him to stay at arm’s length.

“Amber?”

He wanted to touch you. It’d be easy, now, easier than it’d ever been before. You wouldn’t be able to push him away, and even if you tried to, he could always overpower you. Take you by the neck, pin you against the floor, leave you shaking and trembling and begging, pleading with a captor you couldn’t see. He’d find a way to make it up to you, later on. He’d find a way to lie, to smile, to make it better, even if he’d failed to time and time again, out there. But, this would be different. You wouldn’t be able to cling to your excuses, and he’d be able to show you how much he cared, how much he wanted this, how much he loved you. This would be better.

“Kaeya?”

See? You were already coming around.

Your voice was already soft, hesitant, a sliver of a whisper that was constantly on the verge of dying out completely. You were trying not to make noise, trying not to seem as terrified as you really were, but he could hear the way your breath hitched as he took a step forward, your restraints rattling as you curled into yourself. You couldn’t hide from him, but you wanted to. That much was obvious. You didn’t want this.

But, he did. More than you could ever want to run away from it.

He wanted to touch you, but he held himself back. Instead, he only kneeled in front of you, letting himself linger for a moment before he spoke. “I’m here, love.”

“Where are we?” You were afraid, too scared to put the pieces together. Not while you could still hope there was another explanation. Not while you could still deny the apparent. “My head hurts, and I can’t--”

“I know, and I’ll make it up to you.” This time, he let himself reach out, cupping your cheek and chuckling as you tried to shy away. The two of you could work on that, later on. He could live with the guilt if he let himself enjoy it, now. “Just give me a moment, alright? Just a second, then I’ll take care of you.”

You opened your mouth, then you closed it again. Kaeya wondered if you’d be bold enough to refuse if he did try to kiss you, or hold you, or go further than the fleeting touches he’d swore would keep him satisfied, at first, at least. He wondered if he’d care, when you did. “Are… are you going to hurt me?”

He wanted to reassure you. He wanted to promise he’d be patient, that he’d understand if you lashed out, that violence wasn’t an option he was willing to consider, but he couldn’t, like this, could he? He didn’t want to hurt you, but he’d never wanted to kidnap you, either, not until you made it obvious he didn’t have another choice. He didn’t want to stoop so low, he didn’t want you to hate him, but…

But, he was lying again, wasn’t he?

To tell the truth, he couldn’t remember the last time he genuinely cared whether or not you loved him back.

You stifled a scream as his hand dropped to your jaw, his grip tightening as he jerked you forward, just close enough to wrap his arm around your waist, to bury his face in the side of your neck, to get a taste of what you’d deprived him of. It wasn’t enough, he doubted it’d ever be enough, but he had you. He had you, he was close to you, and he had you. That had to be enough, for now.

“We’ll see.”

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

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[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression - Ep 110: Thinking of new expressions in the style of the erotic novel. (*Translation requested*)

K: Ok, here we go with The Freedom of Expression. I'm Dir en grey's Kaoru.

J: Hi, I'm Joe Yokomizo.

T: I'm Tasai from Tokyo Sports.

K: Ok, today we're gonna try something we've never done before.

J: What is it?

K: Well, lets just take a look at this. *holds up card, and reads out two phrases written on it*

Snow White Hill

Huge Ripe Peach

T: What is this, Kaoru? haha

K: Which do you prefer? Just from looking at the words.

J: Well, I like this one, the peach, I like the color.

T: I like the peach too.

J: It makes you feel really good, right?

K: It makes you feel good? Well, this shows you whether you are a boob guy, or a butt guy.

J: Oh, right! I see.

T: Snow white hill?!

K: Yeh, thats boobs.

T: Is today a kind of 'adult' theme?

K: Well, it seems its getting like that, yeh.

J: Yeh, this is getting like niconama, now. Are we on Youtube now?

K: There are more, have a look at these *turns card over*

T: Oh, hang on!

K: *reads out* For boobs, 'Balloons on the verge of bursting', 'Freshly made mochi', 'Two meat mountains'. And then for butts, 'Double doors', 'Top quality marbled meat', 'Meat orbs'.

T: Ahh, its an adult show today.

J: Yeah.

K: Well, these are the kind of expressions you'd find in erotic novels, and stuff. They don't write the explicit words, they change they way they say it to give you that image.

T: Yes, I see.

K: Don't they do that?

J: They do, yes.

K: In that kind of situation, you get weird phrases like this. So, I thought we could use this idea for today's show. So, for example...what is this? *points to notes*

J: Oh, there is stuff written in the notes, right?

K: Its kinda...

T: Is this ok?? Will we get banned for this?

K: Haha

T: Will it be our first ban?

J: This is probably the riskiest section of the show, so Tasai, you read it.

T: Really?! Omg!... *Using sultry voice* 'Delta zone'...

J: Oh, yeh, 'delta zone', I know that.

T: 'Overdone roast beef'

J: Haha, really?

T: I think it means a woman's 'parts'.

J: Ahh. Overdone roast beef? haha

T: The next one is...ah, I see...'Hot furry beast'

K: 'Hot furry beast'? haha

J: Oh, 'rampage stick'. People say that, right? Like, 'My rampage stick is...'

K: 'Burning-hot invader'! Haha!

J: Think about it in erotic novel style though, 'His burning-hot invader was...'

K: Haha

J: Cause you can't say it directly, right? Kaoru, do you like any of these?

K: Well, for the thing that comes out of a man....'The root of the earthquake'

J, T: Hahaha

K: Haha, what are we doing?

T: Are we gonna get banned? haha. But I mean, for sure, the play on words is interesting.

J: Yeah, it is.

K: So we can finish with these, right? But what we can do is a quiz where you use this idea to describe the things around you in your life, or in your workplace.

J: Oh, without actually saying what it is?

K: Yeah, so, write down your phrase, and Joe, if you wrote yours down, me and Tasai would try to guess what it is

J: Oh, I see now. We try to take a bit of influence from the erotic euphemisms, and and use that to describe things in our own work?

K: Yes, thats it.

J: Ahh, this will be difficult. Recently, we are doing a lot of things that require some brain power, right?

K: Haha

T: Well, thats the Freedom of Expression. We are finally getting back to our main concept again.

J: Yes! That umaibo stuff is nostalgic now, haha

K: Yeh.

J: Ok, are we gonna do this?

T: This is difficult.

J: So we do a quiz for the other two to guess?

K: Yes.

T: It has to be an object?

K: Well, it will be easy to guess if its something you have around you usually. Not like something totally unrelated, like a slipper or something.

J: Something related to our work?

K: Yeh.

T: Ok, I'll go first..So, I'm a journalist, yeh? Keep that in your minds..Oh, but this is maybe a bit different..Ok, I'll show you *turns board around* 'Abrupt urging'.

J: 'Abrupt urging'? Is it Hiranabe? 

T: No, its not a person.

K: Interviewing?

T: Yes, thats it! Tough interviews. 'Abrupt urging'. Its was kinda easy, though.

K: Ahh, I see.

J: Ok, I'll go next. I have various jobs, editing, interviewing, radio DJing...I broadcast live on the radio three times a week, so this is radio related. *turns board around* 'Failure is a gold vein that leads directly to death'. Its this kind of quiz, right?

T: Thats hard.

J: Radio related... Failure is a gold vein that leads directly to death.

T: What could it be? Isn't it erotic?

J: Oh, does it have to be erotic?

K: No, it doesn't have to be.

T: A gold vein?

J: Yes.

T: A gold vein??

K: Its hard, this one.

T: Yeh, its difficult.

J: Is it too difficult?

T: No, lets think about it. Well, 'failure' on the radio would be like saying something wrong..

J: Yes, yes, yes.

K: Well, is it something to do with sponsers?

J: Oh! Yes.

K: Not mentioning your sponser's name?

T: Or saying the ad wrong?

J: Ahh, you're close. Its that kind of thing. Its what we call '生パブ/live ads'. We have to read out ads live sometimes. We pre record them and just push a button most of the time, but for some reason they tell us to read them live sometimes. So we do sometimes make a mistake with the product. Even though we practice off air so many times, for some reason we sometimes mess up on air. And the pay happens to be good with live ads, so if I make a mistake.. Failure is a gold vein that leads directly to death'.

K: I see

J: Is this type of thing ok?

K: Its ok.

J: Is it better to be a bit erotic?

T: Maybe, yeh.

J: Ah, thats difficult.

K: Ok, here's mine. *Turns board around* 'A wave coloured by fingertips'.

J: A wave coloured by fingertips? Is it guitar related?

K: Well, yeh, its guitar related.

T: Is it like playing with the sound? Changing the waveform?

K: Well, yeh, the waveform, in a broad sense. Its the sound really. When you see it, it looks like a waveform. And you can mess around with it, and adjust it, so thats what this means. The wave form.

J: Oh, Tasai, you were right!

T: Yehy! 

J: I'm frustrated now! Kaoru, that was quite poetic.

K: Haha, poetic?

T: It was a touch refined, right?

J: But fingerprints do have a slight erotic element too. Haha, I don't know though. Making it erotic is difficult!

T: You don't have to make it erotic if its too difficult.

J: Is that ok? Ok, I know *writes*....'A human excuse making machine'.

T: Thats hard!

J: My Japanese might be a bit odd here.

T: What could it be?

J: 'A human excuse making machine'...machine might be the wrong word. Maybe 'machine' is wrong. Should I change it? No, I'll leave it as 'machine'. So, what it means is...'deadline'.

*silence*

J: What? No response? Well, isn't there a moment where people will come up with excuses when they break the deadline? I do write aswell, but I also sometimes have to request manuscripts, and I've heard so many excuses in my time, and I've made a lot myself.

T: Well, this doesn't sounds very erotic. This is work, right?

J: Yeh, I wasn't sure about using this word, 'machine'.

T: You need to make it sound more 'wet'.

J: This is quite difficult.

T: How about this? Its a certain situation....'When you play with me, I'm suddenly done'.

K: Its a situation you face, Tasai?

T: Yes, as a journalist.

J: Like an interview or a reporter's job?

T: Yes. This happens every day, its routine.

J: Everyday? Is it because you're a Tokyo Sports journlist?

T: Being a journalist is erotic work when when you think about it like this, right?

K: Like, making a draft or something?

T: Yes, thats it. Like sitting at the computer pressing the keys. I expressed it in erotic novel style.

J: Ah, finishing a draft?

T: What do you think?

J: Yeh, thats good. Thats the closest so far.  Ok, Leader.

K: Ok, you will get this easy *turns board around*. 'Tredding on, and bending'.

J, T: Haha

J: This has an S+M feel to it.

T: Its that pedal, isn't it?

J: The effector?

K: Yeah, the distortion pedal.

T: Thats a good one.

J: Tredding on, and bending. Haha. Its very Dir en grey-esque.

K: Hahaha.

J: 'bending' is a good choice of word. What next? We've had two turns each. Are we still ok? I wanna do an erotic one.

K: You wanna do an erotic one?

T: Do one that you would even have to censor.

J: Oh, that works, right? Because this isn't live.

T: Yeah.

J: Ehh? What could I write? I'll think erotic thoughts first. Something that I do which is similar to that...?

T: Joe, you seem like you would be the erotic type. Are you not?

K: He's lost his erotic side since having covid.

T: Oh, yeh, its at 20% right?

J: Yeh, I lost it. But I am getting older too. Someone do one more.

T: Hm, yeh. The pedal one was good.

J: Yeh, Tredding on, and bending..

T:...*thinking* Mmm...

K: Haha, what was that voice? 'Mmmm'.

J: Tasai is a walking erotic novel by himself, haha.

T: ???

J: It was slightly gross, haha. With that big body, then..'Mmmm'.

K: *writing* Hm, maybe this is wrong..but I bet you'll know this. *shows board* 'A shaft before your eyes'. 

T, J: Hahaha.

J: Thats erotic!

T: That is good. But hey, A shaft before your eyes, tredding, and bending...its like a title, right!? Its cool!

J: This is the vocalist's microphone, right?

K: Yeah.

T: It sounds like, 'pierced by a snake', right?

K: Hahaha.

T: Or, 'Tredding, and bending, the shaft before you'...What do you think?

J: Haha, you're taking this seriously.

T: No, I'm sensing something beautiful could be born, haha.

J: Isn't this enough?

T: Yeh, lets go with these. Joe, what did you write there?! Show everyone!

J: Haha, 'The more you tantalize, the more I burn'.

K: Joe, what are you trying to write?! haha.

T: Thats your own inclination, Joe!

J: No, it isn't, haha. Its 'deadline' again. You know, like the editor will be like, 'Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet?!', and I'll be like, 'Not yet, not yet!'..Then, 'Oh, hurry up, hurry up!'. I was trying to get across that kind of situation... but it came across as sexual inclination..

Im sorry.

K: Well, shall we leave it at that? It was quite interesting, wasn't it?

J: Yes, I learned a lot.

K: We used our heads, didn't we?

J: Yes.

T: Yeh, my head is tired.

J: Im hungry too. When you think a lot, don't you get hungry?

K: You want some umaibo?

J: Haha, no Im good.

T: Natto flavour?

J: No, Im good!

K: Ok, lets finish here. Thanks for watching.

J, T: Thank you

[arroelin]

— “am i not enough for you?”

pairing: oikawa tooru x reader

genre: fluff

wc: 880+

series directory - writing fluff using angsty writing prompts

<ASDFJE i was inspired to write this after waking up in the middle of the night for a mystic messenger chatroom💀>

since moving in together with oikawa, peace and quiet- which were once so familiar to you, had suddenly become rare commodities.

.....

you could feel your boyfriend’s presence joining you in the living room as you relaxed with a new book. “hey, tooru.” you hummed casually, eyes remaining glued to your novel. 

“y/n, admit it, i know you’re cheating.”

your head jolted up at his accusation, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. “huh!? on what...?” you asked carefully. 

“on me!!!” he exclaims loudly, features twisting into a deep frown. 

your eyes widened in shock and you felt your chest tighten at the look of utter betrayal swimming in your boyfriend’s normally playful eyes. “what? why would you think that?!”

“explain this, then.” he stuck his arm out, and you noticed that he was holding your phone- knuckles almost white from how hard he was clutching it. 

you quickly set down your book and reached out to take it, but your boyfriend snatched his arm back with a glare. swallowing nervously, you leaned forward to read the small writing on the lock screen. you could feel oikawa’s glare burning a hole into your head and hear the impatient tap of his foot on the wood floor.

reading through the notification, the pressure in your chest eased. “oh, that.” you let out a sigh of relief at the misunderstanding. “that’s just a message from this new game i downloaded.”

oikawa dropped his arm and arched an eyebrow at you. “a game where guys text you?” he asked in disbelief- although seeming visibly more relaxed.

looking down, you chuckled sheepishly as you tapped your fingers on your leg nervously. “well… it’s something like that.” 

you watched as oikawa opened his mouth and closed it without saying a word. was he that weirded out? you thought anxiously. it wasn’t like your boyfriend to be so quiet.

slowly, the corners of his mouth twisted into his signature pout. “am i not enough for you?” he exclaims, throwing his hands up dramatically.

“tooru, it’s just a game.” you responded softly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at your boyfriend’s reaction. 

he crossed his arms and stared at you, brown orbs glinting with mischief. “oh, so cheating is just a game to you.” 

“wha-what? no, of course not.” you sputtered. “besides, i was just trying it out,” you added quickly. “i’ll probably delete it later.” 

“you were planning to move on so quickly!?” your boyfriend leaned closer to you, eyes piercing into yours. “y/n, where’s your loyalty?”   

“w-what?! did you want me to keep the game?”

he ignored you and stood up straight, fishing your phone out of his pocket.

“hey! what are yo-” you began to protest, but your boyfriend quickly turned away. huffing, you could only glare as you watched him tap away on your screen.

a few seconds passed and he looked back up at you. “why are there so many of them?”

“i don’t know… uh… i guess, the more the merrier?” you replied hesitantly. 

“so you’re cheating on me with-” he words trailed off as he looked down at your phone once again, lips moving slightly as he counted quietly. “seven other people??!!”

You gaped at him as he plopped roughly onto floor with a dramatic huff. “if my y/n has decided to replace their beautiful, wonderful boyfriend with seven mediocre men, then there’s nothing I can do.” 

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. you were used to this, and if your boyfriend was back to being the drama queen he normally was- it means he was no longer mad at you. 

“i could never replace you,” you exclaimed as you knelt down beside him and threw your arms around his shoulders, squishing your cheeks against his. 

a smile ghosted over his pout as he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into his lap. “i don’t believe you,” he teased.

you pulled away from him and flicked his forehead softly, eliciting a small “hey” from your boyfriend. “no one can even come close to being as exasperating as you are, you big baby”

“excuse me, but i’m not exasperating,” he argued, flicking your forehead in return. “i’m just trying to defend what’s mine.” 

you gasped and rubbed your forehead, throwing him a playful glare. 

“although never in a million years would i have thought i would be fighting over the love of my life with people from a video game.” 

you leaned back against his chest, letting your head fall onto his shoulders. he gazed at you and you couldn’t help but notice the love in his eyes. “tooru, don’t be so greedy. you literally have me in your arms, what more do you want?” you teased, closing your eyes with a sigh. “besides, the game takes too much time to play.”

you lifted your head from his shoulders and buried it into his chest so he couldn’t see the faint blush creeping into your cheeks. “i would rather spend that time with you.”

he cocked his head to gaze at you. you noticed his eyes widen briefly with astonishment before he pulled you tighter against him, nuzzling his chin into your neck. “aweee baby!! i didn’t know you were so cheesy.”