#but you know its easier to dislike something than is is to like something

[itsfrenchfornothankyou]

okay so you said genuine question and im not from around here but i do have an answer! so you've unlocked an unskippable cutscene!

this is a much bigger topic than it appears on the surface, and i might be able to answer your question succinctly and briefly, but it would miss out on a lot of the stuff happening behind the scenes which is actually very important!

since this is going to be quite long (I did a rough notes on my thoughts and what i might say and it was almost 1k. so.) i am going to put the rest under a readmore

but now that you've clicked the button and commited, let's break this into parts for both our sakes.

part 1: moral purity and the loss of 'squick'

so there's been a fun phenomenon happening lately online, and it's the idea that you can assign morals by the type of things that someone likes. that the act of enjoying something or disliking something is an inherently moral act.

this in itself has a lot of reasons behind it, and digging through that history would be an essay in its own right, so im going to glaze over it. but the current state of affairs is that your own personal taste, be it in media, in people, or yes, sexual thoughts (even ones without actions) are in themselves, moral.

no matter the cause of these feelings, the outcome is this: if you find yourself liking or disliking something, there must be some reason behind it. if you find yourself grossed out by something, there is a moral and justifyable reason behind it.

this is, to me, related to the loss of the idea of a 'squick'; something that just grossed you out. 'squicks' didnt have to be triggers, they didnt have to be evil or harming you, they were a preference about something you just personally did not like.

now however, along with other terms, we have lost the idea of a 'squick' and so if you don't like something there must be a reason this thing is evil.

so now you have people seeing things like animal packers, and they are for some reason uncomfortable with them. where we might have once said 'oh well, not for me', we must now have a reason for why we are uncomfortable with this idea.

1.5: the perpetrator and the victim

in any given situation, to prevent discourse from becoming muddied or hard to answer, there must always be a person who is definitively in the right, and a person who is in the wrong.

this is a really normal reaction, it's hard to accept something as not having a clear answer, and so it's easy to find ourselves doubling down on something so we dont have to confess to the worst thing of all 'i dont know'.

Coming from disability advocacy, it's important to recognise that there are going to be situations which are not clear cut, in which nobody has done anything wrong, but people have ended up hurt or upset. sometimes needs and people are simply incompatible, and there's nothing wrong or evil there.

but that is difficult and scary, so instead it's much easier to talk about the victim and the villain. if someone is being hurt (i am looking at something that grosses me out) then someone must be intentionally hurting them (evil gross kinksters)

In this understanding of things, the discomfort itself must be harm done, and if harm is being done, then someone must be at fault. it becomes a matter of who is the perpetrator and who is the victim. So in order for them to be uncomfortable and not be evil themselves, the thing that is making them uncomfortable must be evil itself.

now that we've established these things we can actually get around to answering the actual question you asked:

Part 2: why zoophillia?

if this person has deemed the act that these people have done to be evil or bad, why not just call the act itself (which i am given to understand is hyper-realistic animal packers?) evil?

well what you surely understand, and somehwere in the back of their brain they understand, is that that's incredibly fucking stupid.

if you walk up to the average person and say hey, this person is doing this evil thing, and explain that, theyre going to think you're insane. so how are they supposed to tell the average person that this person is evil? they escelate it to most awful acusation they can think of in the moment.

in most communities, the terrible thing that they will accuse someone of is pedophillia, but in the therian circles, they dont need to escelate it to that point, because there is already a hot button topic they can point to instead.

Zoophillia, as i am given to understand, is one of the most hot button topics in the therian community. it is the group which is regularly aligning themselves with therians, that many if not most therians want nothing to do with.

it's also a group that is often conflated with therians, meaning that many therians have an immediate 'no fuck off that's not us' reaction to it, as a form of self preservation. because as soon as people have made a claim that you may be a zoophile, and you fail to respond in the appropriate way, you will be cast out of your own therian in group.

so the use of using zoophillia as an acusation is two-fold. for one, it makes people take the accusation seriously, and for two, it prevents people from doing their own research and looking into it.

because if you are told this person is evil, and if you support them you are also evil, at that point any questioning on your part is seen as complicity in evil acts. as apologism. this person is evil and if you ask my why, you must also be evil.

so lets circle back a little bit here, earlier i mentioned that the typical claim is pedophillia, which everything i said previously about evil acts is still true of, but you might not fully believe me about people escelating to the nearest most terrible thing they can think of, but the thing is that i have seen this before.

Part 2.5: tired asexual

hello again, youve probably never heard of me before, so let me tell you that I'm Asexual. more importantly, I'm an asexual person who has been on tumblr for a solid decade.

if you werent around in the mid to late 10s, you might not know just how bod aphobia on tumblr got, but i was there for it. and you know what the most common accusation of why asexuals, and anyone trying to discuss asexuality were evil?

because discussing asexuality was pedophillia.

yeah, asexuals. the well known 'lack of sexual attraction' community.

Now I can go into the series of claims that led to this, hell I could probably go diving on my old blog and find screenshots of these actual accusations, but that’s kind of besides the point. The point here is that the actual reasons people give for it being ‘insert evil thing’ are unimportant.

yeah, when i say it to you, a person who i am assuming knows a little something about asexuality, that that was the claim, your first thought is that that's an insane thing to say.

but for a lot of people the first time they heard about asexuality was in this discourse. so their brain is now primed to make the connection of 'oh, okay, asexuality is evil.' and now, when they see people defending asexuality, they're already defensive. they assume youre trying to trick them, or make them complicit.

asexuality is not the only place this tactic has been used though, you see it all the time. it's at its most common in things like homophobic legestation, anti-trans bills, or drag bans.

These people cannot justify the initial action as evil, so they jump to something you are more likely to agree with, and try to argue it is the same thing. this is what we call equivocation.

equivication is an incredibly effective tactic in fear-mongering, splitting up groups of people, and getting something innocuous labeled as morally wrong

'Think of the children' is a good example of this. No it’s not that im transphobic, it’s that I’m concerned about children. Therefore, if you’re arguing against me it must be because you yourself hate children and want harm to come to them.  

but not everyone is as obvious as to say 'think of the children' or some other line we've heard a bunch before. they find new ways to say it, and because the current safety tactics are to watch for certain phrases and words, people dont know how to look for underlying beliefs and sentiments, leaving people more vulnerable than ever to this kind of manipulation.

so now i've hopefully answered your initial question of 'why zoophillia', i want to take this a litte bit further and ask, 'what is the end goal?'

part 3: what next?

okay so would you believe me, if i said that until now ive actually been taking an incredibly good faith reading of the discourse so far?

currently I have been presenting this as a misdirection of discomfort, but not necessarily actively malicious. now however, i want to go back to the ace discourse.

bigots on tumblr weren't actually starting shit with the ace community because they really had a bone to pick with asexuals, they were doing it because they were transphobes. Surprise!

this isnt speculation on my part, transphobes have since openly discussed that they used aphobia as a kind of 'gateway' to 'gatekeeping'

if they come out of the gates talking about how 'transexuals are evil' and should be 'kicked out of the lgbt community', then they would be immediately revealed as transphobes and most of the queer community won't listen to them. these transphobic talking points have been around long enough to be identifiable and more easily discussed.

asexuality however was, particularly at the time, very under-discussed. it also wasnt a part of the 'standard' LGBT acronym, which made it easier for them to make the argument that asexual people should not be allowed to be considered part of the community.

aphobia at the time was considered less divisive, you could be more easily convinced that this community you have never heard of is evil, dont question it. theyre pedophiles and groomers, if that isnt enough to convince you theyre evil it must be because you're also an evil person, so don't question it or do your own research. then we might come for you.

This was wildly successful! And now that that campaign has gone so well, they can now openly admit that they were secretly transphobes all along! And wow, you already aligned with us, so you need to double down on hating trans people because the rest of the queer community doesn’t want you back after that bullshit!

now maybe you consider this to be a particularly poor faith reading of the current discourse. maybe i had you in the first half, but all of this stuff about secret transphobes and conservatives playing along in ways that are more acceptable seems a little far fetched and conspiratorial to you. a bit of equivication here and there isnt inherently a sign of deeper sinister intentions. isnt all of this a bit of a stretch?

and maybe youre right, maybe im just someone who has seen something similar play out before, and im jumping to defence at something that wont become the same issue.

but isn't it interesting that the people being most vitriolistically upset about all of this, and attacking the creator of these things and accusing them of zoophillia are also misgendering him?

[Tw: Zoophilia mention]

Genuine question: WHY do so many people in this community jump on everything they find weird and immediate label it as zoophilia?!

Like- animal packers, fantasy toys, yiff art, pet play, kink gear, LITERALLY ANYTHING.

Seriously, relieving dysphoria, having "dirty" urges related to your identity, even straight up liking some freaky shit does NOT mean someone is attracted to animals. And it definitely does not mean they are actively harming/thinking of harming real animals.

People really take whatever is too weird for them and try to accuse it of war crime. Be better y'all.

[mjdrawsalot]

you ever see a film critic's backlog and want to scream

do you even like movies bruh?!?

[formulawolff]

the (not so subtle) art of a crush - t.w.

pairing: female driver!reader x toto wolff

word count: 777

warnings: toto being down bad, some teasing, sexual innuendos, one-sided yearning, yadayadayada

a/n: this was a request made by an anon (i believe!) this is also sort of a spin-off of fanboy behavior, which i absolutely adored writing. i think yearning (and well.. down bad) toto is my favorite toto to write! i hope y'all enjoy! <3

"and tell me," the driver's accent is crisp as he licks his lips, "why do you need help creating an instagram account again?"

"nothing major," a figure shrugs, fiddling with a loose thread in his wrinkled white polo, "i just want to stay in the loop. that's all."

"toto," a new voice chimes in, "you have never once mentioned wanting an instagram, or any social media really, until now. what is going on?"

"nothing major," toto wolff exhales, rolling his eyes, "you all have it, so why can't i?"

"because you're ancient?" lewis hamilton scoffs, arching a brow, "you're probably going to need a step-by-step tutorial on how to navigate the platform."

"i think i can figure that one out myself you know," toto hisses, jaw clenching as his drivers stare blankly, "if five year-olds can do it, i can do it."

"let me see your phone," george russell extends an arm, waving his fingers, "i'll get your account set up."

"i-i," the team principal stammers, heat billowing into his cheeks, "i-i don't know if i necessarily need help with that."

"are you blushing?" lewis purses his lips, a devious smirk forming as the dots connect, "mate, do you have something in there that you don't want us to see?"

only approximately one hundred and two screenshots of a certain williams driver. three or four videos. all of which were screen recordings from various interviews.

his cherished clips. ones he watched every night before he drifted off.

all of which were not tucked away into the hidden folder of his camera roll.

speaking of which, he may have to figure out how to do that. with three kids, an ex-wife, and two nosy drivers, his phone was an easy target. he probably needed to set up a passcode as well.

the lengths he was going to over a crush. a fucking crush.

well, was it a really a crush?

or more like an infatuation?

that was a question for another time. he had two drivers in his office at the moment, circling around him like vultures, eager to pick him apart.

"nothing of your interest," toto retorts, in a vain attempt to maintain his composure, "nothing, really."

"got someone's nudes in there?" lewis coos, tilting his head, "or even worse, a sex tape?"

"lewis," george brings a hand to his temple, "what on earth is wrong with you?"

"what, mate?" lewis throws his hands in the air, "i'm just giving him shit."

"shit he clearly does not want," george mutters, "toto, if you need help setting up an account, just facetime me. don't try to text me. it's much easier to explain over a call than written directions."

"or he can just go on wikihow," lewis offers, "they have guides on just about everything."

oh, really?

did they have a guide on how to navigate the unbearable weight of yearning for a woman thirty years your junior? a woman on a rival team? a crush so bad that it was beginning to snake its way into every aspect of your life? consume your every waking thought?

a crush so intense that you had already spoken to members of the williams crew?

his next target was james, whom he was planning on meeting and speaking with after the next press conference. that was in about a week's time, at third grand prix of the season.

fuck, this was embarrassing, really.

but he wanted more.

actually, he needed more.

he craved it.

he needed to gather all of the possible information and intel as he could. her likes and dislikes. her favorite foods and the ones that were so vile they made her throw up. what kept her up at night. what music she preferred to listen to on race day. what drinks she indulged in. what animals she loved. what made her so unbelievably pissed off she couldn't think straight.

he wanted to catch a glimpse inside of her mind.

all of the things that could possibly buzz around inside of that beautiful head.

really, he just wanted to learn what she was composed of.

her childhood memories, the ones she spoke of with that sweet fondness in her voice. the delicate aspects of her life that she cherished, beaming from ear to ear. the things she feared. how she expressed her love. the people she adored.

everything.

he wanted to know it all.

and following her instagram account, along with her various other socials would prove to be the first step in accessing that plethora of information.

at least it was a step in the right direction.

even if his drivers were giving him hell for it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ taglist ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

@noooway555 @s-awturn @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @lokideservesahug @fore45fore @eattothebeatt @statuewoman @sarah10r-blog @lavenderandlace @racecardilfs @bblouifford @irishmanwhore @jhobi18 @roseandtulips @simply-the-best23

[onsomenewsht]

Helpless to the bass and faded light

About when she bribes you and you dance with her like a filled stadium isn't looking

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 words count: +1k

》 she took my arm / I don't know how it happened / we took the floor and she said

You don’t like football.

It’s quite a boring game if you stop to think about it for a moment. Two dozen and counting people running around a ball trying to kick it into a huge net.

Not something you look forward to sit through for almost two hours.

Despite your father’s best efforts, you being his only kid and his only hope to pass down his passion, the sport never managed to interest you long enough to care.

You even found yourself in the stands of your dad’s favourite club’s home more times than you’re able to remember, going beyond yourself and cheering when the other people around you did.

The things you do to make your parents proud.

How you managed to have the English captain wrapped around your finger, regardless of your well-known dislike for her biggest passion and purpose in life, is still a mystery for your families and friends.

“Pretty please, just this one”

“Oh, shut up!”, you hit her arm and push her off you, both still naked.

You can’t believe your girlfriend is actually trying to bribe you with sex, not even waiting for you to fully recover before asking to go to the game.

“No, you ruined the mood”, you state as the blonde tries to kiss you again.

The huge grin of her beautiful face is quite dangerous, she can win you over so easily and you both know it.

Leah rises off the bed to retrieve a warm cloth from the bathroom and a clean shirt from the closet. You accept her attention, she’s always caring when it comes to you, but you’re pretty sure the extra effort has a not-so-subtle second purpose.

“You can’t buy me so easily, Williamson”

She can.

“It’s a really important game, my love”

“For who?”

“For me?”, she tries as she slots herself under your open arm, a grin hidden between your neck and the pillow.

“I barely bear you playing”

“You love watching me play”

“I love you, period”

Leah knows how much you think the sport is boring, going way out of your comfort zone just to cheer her. She feels immensely supported when she finds your big smile in the stands, wrapped in one of her jerseys.

It’s not that difficult for you to sit and admire your girlfriend in her element, focusing more on her movements and attitude than paying attention to the actual game.

What you find quite annoying is enduring Arsenal’s men’s team.

The defender’s fingers on your side are slowly soothing you in a compromising position, too relaxed and smitten to keep denying her anything. You know she doesn’t need much more to lure you into her trap and, unfortunately for you, she’s perfectly aware too.

When the blonde’s lips find the particularly sensitive spot on the base of your neck, you’re doomed.

~

You’re glad your father is already dead or you’d have killed him as you take your seat in the Emirates Stadium, surrounded by the Gunners’ colours. Your girlfriend’s name on your back could be the final nail.

The things you do to make your lover happy.

“You know I love you, right?”

“You better never forget this”, you quip back.

The English captain has been looking forward to this game for weeks now, you couldn’t have been able to turn her down in spite of it all.

She doesn’t need to know though, you didn’t accept to spend one of your date nights watching the North West London derby for free.

“Maybe you will enjoy it at the end”

Nice try, you will not.

“You know, my dad was a West Ham supporter”

“Could have been worse”, she smiles at you, reaching for your hand.

Talking about your father is getting easier as time finally moves forward and your grief keeps changing its shape. Compared to the abyssal black hole it felt like the first year and a half, its progress.

Leah didn’t meet him, crushing in your life a couple of months after his passing, but she managed to find a space in your heart that keeps growing despite all your fears.

They could have hit so well, bonding over their shared passion for the sport and their never-ending determination to make you happy.

You told her some stories about him, mostly memories to make your girlfriend understand how stubborn and passionate he was about the thing he cared about.

The one thing you all have in common.

“Yeah, he used to gift me a West Ham jersey every year on Bobby Moore’s birthday”

Leah’s laugh managed to overcome the buzzing atmosphere of the stadium, making you feel like she was the reason all the people around you were cheering. You sure think so.

“He sounds like an incredible father”

“Football obsession aside, he was good”

When you turn to look at her, the blonde’s eyes are already on you and the smile on her face is enough to warm your heart.

~

The first goal coming within five minutes has you quite engaged in what’s happening on the pitch, you even drag your girlfriend in a kiss as you both rise from your seats to celebrate.

Your commitment declined quite easily after that, more entertained by Leah’s reactions than the actual game. You nod in amusement every time she tries to talk you through one of her analyses, placing a hand on her thigh to stop her from standing up every time the ball is somehow close to the box.

The second half is more eventual, at least that’s what you can understand by the excitement the defender and the people in the stands around you seem to radiate.

You’re not clueless, you’re perfectly aware a five-nil win against Chelsea is quite the result. You care enough to think you can’t wait to go home - Leah is always in the mood for a private celebration when her team triumphs, especially over another London club.

“Can we go now?”, you ask as soon as the referee whistles three times, declaring the end of your and the Blues’ torture.

Leah’s happiness is contagious, so you’re not mad when she drags you in her arms to join her cheers and enthusiastic dance. It takes you less than a second to indulge her, letting the blonde spin you around and matching her excitement.

When she dips you and seals the move with a kiss the laugh that rises out of you is genuine and loud.

At first, neither of you notice the stadium’s camera pointed in your direction, recording your little moment of pure bliss in each other’s arms.

Looking back at it, as all your friends sent you the viral video, you know Leah saw you two on the big screen and went along with her little cocky display of affection and excitement for the victory.

You’re sure your father could be laughing at it too, despite the colors you’re wearing.

fine.

[lostdreamr-blog1]

Pinky Promise 4

Word count: 1.7K

Pairings: Jake Seresin X Reader

A/N: Round 4 of Pink Promise! Part 5 is in the works now! Thanks for reading!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When Jake received the text, “Want to get drunk tonight?” on a Wednesday, a heavy feeling settled in his stomach. Something must have happened. He leaned against the cool countertop of his kitchen, weighing his options. The last time he saw you, time had slipped away unnoticed, and now it had been over a week. He fired back a quick reply, “Name the place and I’ll be there.”

He showered and changed out of his work clothes, heart racing as he waited for your next message. He hoped he could talk you down from whatever ledge you were teetering on and still make it home at a reasonable hour.

Jake drove to the small bar on the outskirts of town, a spot you chose to avoid running into other pilots. You didn’t dislike them; you just didn’t want to put on a show for Bradley’s sake. As he stepped inside, he spotted you immediately, alone at the bar. Your profile told a story that made him stop in his tracks. The dark circles under your eyes and the way your hair lost its usual shine spoke volumes. But it was your defeated posture that cut him the deepest—your shoulders hunched as if you were trying to disappear.

A sigh escaped his lips as he chastised himself for not checking on you sooner. He slid onto the stool next to you. “Hey, darlin’. Sorry if I made you wait.”

You looked up, a flicker of light returning to your eyes. “I haven’t been here long. How was work?”

“Same as always. Your brother has been more moody than usual,” he replied, signaling the bartender for a water.

You chuckled softly. “Natasha turned him down. He’s not taking it too well.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, surprised. He hadn’t known Bradley was interested. “Did he say why?”

“She gave him some excuse about not wanting to mix work with pleasure or some bullshit like that. He deserves better anyway.”

A comfortable silence settled between you for a few moments before you broke it with an unexpected question. “You ever think, ‘Man, I suck’?” You took a long sip of your drink, completely unfazed by Jake’s water.

He smirked. “Not particularly. I know I’m one of the best, so there’s not much room for doubt.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was such a bagman answer.”

Jake chuckled, but his expression turned serious. “I do have days I question why I’m still doing this. I love flying, but the risks are starting to feel bigger than the rewards.” He leaned back, hoping his honesty would coax you into sharing what was weighing you down.

When you finished your drink, he leaned closer. “What’s going on? It’s been a while since you’ve been out during the week.”

You turned your gaze to the empty glass, avoiding his eyes. “You’d be surprised how many times I drink during the week. But I think I’ve realized recently that I’m not built for med school.”

Alarm bells rang in Jake’s mind. “We’ll talk about the drinking in a minute. What’s happening with school? I thought things were going well.”

You signaled the bartender for another drink, and Jake slid his water toward you. “It’s not what I thought it would be. I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s just… not something I enjoy.”

Before you could reach for your new drink, Jake intercepted it. “Let me guess: instead of asking for help, you decided drinking was the better option?”

You nodded, your defenses slipping away. Why be responsible when it was easier to forget?

He sighed, “Did I ever tell you how much I hated flight school?” you shook your head, prompting him to continue. “I was excited to be a pilot. It’s been my dream for as long as I can remember. But when I got into the schooling side of it, I was crushed. I nearly quit a few times, but I told myself to push through. I kept thinking the freedom to enjoy what I love would be waiting on the other side.”

You slowly nodded your head at his admission. “I made the mistake of telling Bradley I hated it a few weeks back. He didn’t give me any fuzzy words of encouragement.” Jake clenched his fists, anger simmering at Bradley’s judgment. He knew how much your brother’s words affected you, no matter how much you tried to brush them off.

“Listen, sweetheart. I know you love your brother, but when stuff like this comes up, you need to reach out to me. I will never be too busy for you. I pinky promise.” He extended his pinky, a hopeful smile breaking through your somber expression.

“One of my greatest achievements will be having a big bad Top Gun pilot pinky-promise me,” you said, hooking your pinky with his and squeezing it lightly.

For another half-hour, you both sat at the bar, laughter mingling with the bittersweet confessions. When Jake finally stood to leave, he insisted, “I’m driving you home. It’s dark out, and I’d rather not take any chances.”

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly realized it was futile. With a resigned nod, you followed him outside. The night air was cool, but Jake’s presence felt like a warm shield against the world.

He opened the truck door for you, a small gesture that sent a ripple of warmth through your chest. As he gently closed it once you were inside, the moment felt almost too perfect, like a scene from one of those old movies that made you cringe. And that’s when your thoughts began to spiral.

You wanted to convince yourself that your troubles began and ended with school, but deep down, another darkness gnawed at you. It all felt so blissfully normal during your last study session at Jake’s apartment. The aroma of his homemade pasta mingled with the faint sound of an old movie playing in the background—one you secretly loathed, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You sat there on the couch, sharing bites and laughter, and thought, “Damn. If only I could have this every day.”

That’s when the drinks had returned, and the recluse lifestyle set back in.

Falling for Jake wasn’t supposed to be on your radar. He was everything your brother loathed—everything you thought you shouldn’t want. With his polished career and a social life that sparkled with ease, he seemed to glide through life. You, on the other hand, felt like you were sinking, caught in a riptide of your own insecurities.

As Jake parked and walked you to your door, you couldn’t help but admire yet another annoyingly perfect trait of his—how he always walked you to the door, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’ve been awfully quiet this whole ride here. You sure you’re okay?” His voice was low and laced with concern. He glanced down, catching the way your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your shirt.

You hesitated, torn between the urge to unload the weight of your heart and the instinct to keep it all bottled up. “Just… a lot on my mind,” you finally admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Want to talk about it?” His eyes searched yours, and in that moment, you felt the walls you’d built around yourself begin to crack, revealing the tangled mess of emotions you’d been trying so hard to suppress.

You looked away, the cool night air brushing against your skin, and realized that perhaps, just maybe, letting him in could be the first step toward something beautiful—or the beginning of yet another spiral.

The mature thing to do would be to lay it all out there, to let him in on the storm brewing inside your head. But maturity had never been your strong suit. “I think it’s a conversation for another night,” you said, forcing the words out as you unlocked the door and stepped inside. You turned to find Jake’s gaze heavy with concern, and your heart sank a little.

“I promise I’m fine, and it’s nothing.” You flashed a small smile, but it faltered under the weight of his skepticism.

“And when I leave here, are you just going to ignore me and slip back into that shell you’ve been hiding in?” He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe, exuding a mix of frustration and genuine worry.

You felt the familiar urge to run, to dodge the uncomfortable truth. You’d always sidestepped conflicts, always preferred to sweep emotions under the rug. But before you could catch yourself, the words spilled out. “I think I’m falling for you.”

It was the kind of confession that felt like a punch to the gut, and before you could process the fallout, you slammed the door in his face.

Silence filled the space, thick and suffocating. You leaned against the door, heart racing, half-expecting him to knock again or shout something—anything. But the only sound was your own breathing, rapid and shallow. What had you just done?

You were spiraling again, your mind racing through all the ways this could end badly. You pictured Jake standing there, processing your words, his expression shifting from surprise to hurt.

Why did you always have to make things so complicated?

After a moment, you heard a soft knock. Your heart thudded in your chest. “Hey,” Jake’s voice came through the wood, calm but tinged with confusion. “Can we talk about this? Please?”

You hesitated, grappling with the tumult of emotions. Part of you wanted to open the door and let him in, to unravel everything you’d kept bottled up. But another part, the one that had always chosen the path of least resistance, screamed at you to keep it shut.

What if you had just ruined everything?

A/N: Somehow this turned into a mini series...thoughts? Do we think Jake will feel the same? Part 5 in the works :) Thanks for reading!!

Tag List: @rosiahills22 @sunlitsunflowers @dempy @mamaskillerqueen @luckyladycreator2 @atarmychick007 @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @topguncultleader @alilstressyandlotdepressy @avengers-fixation @chaoticcassidy @alldaysdreamers, @hotch-meeeeeuppppp, @mrsevans90, @spidey-d00d, @rororo06, @lilstarfish88, @jasmine-in-the-night,

[liveontelevision]

Okay, this started as a rant about Lucifer lore and turned into an argumentative essay on why Lucifer is a bottom. My b.

18+ Smut ahead, lots of angst

•••

Here's the thing about Lucifer. He was an awesome dreamer, fell in love with Lillith, and was banished to Hell. Literally forced to see what the gift of good will can do at its worse. Unless he's made some personal contact with a sinner to get like updates about what the gift of good will did right, he had to be stuck in a depression for centuries, at least until Charlie was born. And while that would've definitely given him a new passion, he'll never feel confident in dreaming again.

With how much he dislikes sinners and what they represent, i wonder if there had to be some strain on their relationship when it came to Lillith taking control? They never really talk about if they had a fallout or if she just disappeared, but i dont think they really got divorced either.

When Lucifer looks at that family picture and winces, does he feel bad about not contacting charlie? About something he did to make lillith leave? Or maybe he feels bad about being upset at lillith for leaving in the first place? There's so much to umpack there i live for the lore.

Love Interests:

But when that comes to potential love interests in the future, Lucifer hasnt had to court anyone before like ever. Not in the circumstances that they live in a big city like Hell. So when he finally ends up catching feelings, he has no idea. People around the hotel literally need to pick up on context clues for him and have an intervention to tell him he's in love again.

Even if he hasnt seen lillith in 7 years, their relationship had to be a drastic change compared to new love. I think that his love interest would also pick it up before he does, and you would let him work at his own pace. Fuck, it is so important that he goes through this process at his own pace.

With so much strain on his past relationships with loved ones, he fully gaslights himself into thinking he doesnt deserves and isnt allowed to feel affection anymore. I hate making characters i love suffer. But i feel like in his state of mind he'd go through depressive episodes and panic attacks, maybe some night terrors. Theyed be about his past and his subconscious would essentially tell him he has feelings again, and he shouldn't act them in case he scares you away and abandons you, like heaven. Or drives you away like lillith. Or purposely blocks you out like charlie. Mans is struggling i swear. He needs some comfort.

After finally coming to terms, hes a nervous wreck about every decision he makes. He'll constantly stare in the mirror in the mornings, making sure he looks his best, would plan mental scripts before even having a conversation with you, and would become a bumbling mess just trying to make jokes out of the situation, some base level actions, like how we saw in the show. He'll manage to finally ask you out, but all he really knows how to do is profess an undying love (i feel like his confession to lillith was hella dramatic) so it was a little awkward, but still cute. And of course you said yes.

So let's say its been 5+ years since he moved into the hotel, met you and finally managed to confess his feelings. When it comes to the actual relationship? You give him reassurance and support him through his mental episodes, and laugh at his jokes and praise him for everything he does. He has such intense imposture syndrome though, that even other demons have to reassure that theres no way you dont love him with all your being. Because it is literally obvious to everyone but him.

He's pretty good at doing the romantic fluff stuff in public, he loves to make a big show out of treating you like royalty and even trying to embarrass you when you become close enough. He's always more charasmatic in public, it seems easier than doing that alone.

Not in a negative way, but Lucifer is so never to be alone with you. You take the lead a bit more in those scenarios, suggesting ideas like movies or just coming up with small talk yourself. He needs someone who'll be patient with him. Being alive for millions of years AND being left or shamed by all your loved ones during that time is literally the definition of Truama.

Of course he's been bottling all that shit up, he has no one to confide with. There's no one who's been alive and witnessed it all the way he has. So bless you for loving and caring for him even without understanding all hes been through.

You'll have some rough patches, where this emotional side locks him away from you and everyone else. It might be a few days before you see him. He'll lock himself in his office, pumping out ducks by the dozen just to keep himself from sleeping, because he's scared he'll have night terrors if he feels asleep. He's in a constant loop;

"what if i fucked up?"

"what if i try to talk about it and then they realize how bad i fucked up?"

"what if that's enough of a reason for them to leave me?"

"what if i scare them away?"

"what if that fucks this up?"

"what if i fucked up.. Again..?"

After he leaves his office, youre excited to see him out and about, but you cant make a big deal out of it. You have to speak to him calmly, make sure he's physically okay before talking to him about his thought process. It might take awhile, but he'll eventually trust you enough to open up. And of course it'll never be bad enough for you to leave him, he's just struggling.

Physical Contact:

It takes him an even longer time to become physical with you. He hasnt been intimate for over a decade at this point, but as soon as he becomes comfortable with little affections like hand holding, cuddling, wrapping his arms around your waist, and kissing? Hoo boy, he melts after your first kiss. It couldve been even a small peck and he would still become a nervous wreck just trying to ask for more.

He'll ask for physical touch more than provide it at first. You'll give him a quick kiss and he'll look up at you super eager just like, "another?" He'll grow into tastful pda's, linking arms, quick hugs and smooches, holding hands all that.

He becomes putty in your hand when you're alone though. You'll nudge him to lean against your shoulder or even lay his head in your lap while youre lounging or watching movies. He becomes so relaxed in your presence, that you'll want to suddenly peck him just to see his suddenly flustered reaction.

You'd give him massages that he would always be hesistant over. He was always a little nervous that he wasnt giving enough to you, but you were quick to assure him that wasnt the case. You'd straddle his hips while giving him a slowww massage. It starts with light touches, tracing your fingers over his shoulder blades and spine. You'd trace your fingers over his chest when you would cuddle too, depending on the position. Or stroke his back sweetly. It was enough of a distraction to keep his mind occupied, away from any spiraling thoughts he might be having.

He purrs. Convince me that he doesnt purr. (You cant)

Being secluded for so long probably means that he doesnt fly as much as he used to. It was probably a passion of his, and he was especially delighted to share it with lillith and charlie.

So during those 7 years he barely flew, he also didnt take care of his wings. I feel like theyre something to be summoned, so they arent constantly tucked into his back. You'd basically scold him sometimes to just let you clean his wings.

You'd do it in like a spring-type bathhouse that Lucifer would have in his castle somehow. It was one of the first intimate moments he's experienced in years, so he was generally going insane. Feeling your hands and a little comb rake through the feathers on his giant wings? You'd have to tap his shoulder sometimes to keep him from falling asleep to the relaxation alone. After the first time, the water you used was pretty dirty and he had a lot of loose feathets that were combed out. Damn, he needed this.

Intimacy:

After awhile, you sit down and would have a discussion about being intimate in bed. Lucifer would be absolutely nervous about overstepping by asking this, (even though you've been together for about a year at this point). He would use his mental scripts and basically practice what he wanted to say.

It would mainly be him saying he wants to do this because he loves you and youve done so much for him that he wants to give back to you in this way. It would consist of him saying its okay if you dont want to, or if you ever want to stop to just say so. But of course you want to, how could you not?

It would start slow, he actually tries taking the lead in this specific situation. He would kiss you first, his lips trembling at the thought that this is actually happening. Feeling his nerves, you'd cup his face and stroke his cheeks with your thumbs lightly. That will help him ease up enough to start letting the passion take over more.

He'd become more confident in slipping his tongue into your mouth and placing his hands on your hips to pull you closer to him. Lucifer would get lost in the moment, pulling you to straddle his lap as he kissed and licked and bit his way across both your shoulders and down to the softeness of your breast. After leaning back to look at the damage his eyes would become increasingly wide, looking up at you with a flustered expression. Seeing you losing it as much as he was, gave him enough courage to keep up at it.

He would almost hesistantly take a hold of your breasts and would massage them softly, running his thumbs across your nipples and becoming absolutely delighted at the reaction you gave. The adrenaline from the pleasure would make you start grinding against his lap, which would make lucifer's hands on your hips pull away for a moment and make his breath stutter. Lucifer would look you up and down as if he didnt know what to do next, studying your body with darting eyes. You'd press a small kiss on his forehead before guiding his hands back onto your hips with yours, keeping your eyes on him the entire time.

"Are you okay, Luci?" He would gulp before nodding his head and turning ridiculously red across his face, maybe from the idea of what was to come, maybe just from your voice alone. You'd keep your hands ontop of his at your hips as you'd keep moving, letting out breathy moans. He would be holding his breath without realizing, an absolute nervous wreck just from the view.

He would already be hard just from the previous make out session, so this would cause him to lean his back against the bed, his strength giving out. You'd keep up at it, feeling his hips jolt up to meet yours at times.

He was a sweaty, twitching mess in front of you and you hated to admit how much that excited you.

His scripted plan was immediately forgotten, but he was quick to remember that he wanted to please you.

He'd snap out of his state of intense pleasure, to carefully switch positions, him looking over you with your back against the bed.

You both discuss it, of course, attempting to set boundaries before hand. Even just the tender discussion would get him riled up. So he'd lean foward and kiss you again, showing off his forked tongue before peppering kisses down your entire body, until he was close enough to let his hot breath heat up your folds.

You'd feel his nervous breath on you before delving in. He would be hesistant of course, but would be quick to get used to your entrance after running his tongue across your entirety multiple times. Lucifer loves providing pleasure this way, so his brain immediately knew what to do once the nerves past. He was quick to take a tight hold onto your thighs to keep you in place as he entered you with his demonic lengthy tongue. He would look up at you as he sort of aimlessly dug around at first, waiting for a reaction. Once he'd see you dip your head back with a muffled moan, he would close his eyes to focus all his attention to that one spot. He'd reach his thumb around to circle and massage your clit that he would find far too quickly. You'd arch your back and try to get more friction against his tongue, but it's easy to forget that he is quite literally the strongest being in Hell. You weren't going anywhere.

He'd love feeling your hands in his hair and would absolutely lose it feeling you pull hard when he'd hit just the right spot. As soon as he set a steady thythm and was hearing your voice become more unhinged, he'd speed up to an extent that you didn't realize was possible after going for so long. You discussed cumming before and he made it very clear that he was okay with you finishing on his face. Fuck, he wanted it. You still warned him, moaning out his name to get his attention, "I-I'm almost there- K-Keep doing that.. like that..! Luci-" you'd almost direct him though the whole process, but were quick to become a moaning mess unable to communicate with words. You'd reach your limit and he would let you buck up into his face this time, loosening his grip on your thighs. He'd pull away after licking you clean, sending overstimulated pleasure across your entire body, with a line of your juices following his tongue as he lifted his head. He would pant with his tongue still sticking out of his mouth, and even through hazy eyes you loved seeing his demonic tongue and thinking about how it just drove you to climax.

Things would switch up again, and you'd sit him against the back of the bedframe. you'd have another quick discussion before seating yourself slowly on his length, which had been throbbing for any contact since the night started. The first few times, he'd do his best not to cum immediately. He hadn't been touched like this in a while, after all. You'd only begin to move once you made sure he was okay since his struggle was written all over his face.

The moment you began to keep a steady space, he would jut his hips upwards, becoming needy to feel this sensation he hadn't felt in over a decade. The first time didn't last long. It was sweet, and he would constantly moan out your name and babble on about how much he loves you. The entire time, you'd be praising him through every move until he was going too fast for you to get a sentence out.

He'd cum inside of you, another previously discussed topic. You essentially had to beg to convince him it was okay. You'd collapse onto his chest, a position he didnt see often. While the two of you always cuddled, you were so focused on making sure he was comfortable, Lucifer realized you didnt often get the chance to just relax on top of him. So after realizing that? Aftercare was amazing.

He'd let you sit with him inside you for a while, before pulling you off and immediately cleaning you up. Some nights, when he felt especially dominant, he would lap up his own cum from your incredibly sensitive cunt. He would swallow some of it, but was mainly pushing anything that dripped out back into your entrance.

After cleaning you up, he would wiggle his way back underneath you and pull you onto his chest, enjoying taking care of you the way you took care of him.

After the first night, lucifer would be much more confident. He'd have that healthy glow, but would be more assertive during meetings, more communicative and wouldnt shut others out as often. It really helped him realize how much you gave to him, and he was determined to give all that and more back to you.

[angelshadowsinger]

oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

[ms-demeanor]

since twitter has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, and reddit has become actively hostile to its users, so they came to tumblr, what do we do now that tumblr is becoming (more) actively hostile to its users? i’ve been here for over a decade so i know tumblr users are the type to cling on despite everything and revel in undoing every change, but i’m so tired of the way this website breaks the way it fundamentally works in order to appeal to new users. the twitterfication of the site seems so much worse than when people jumped ship after the porn ban, and even then, only small communities (and twitter) cropped up as solutions. you might not be the person to ask for a definitive answer, but i figured a tech blog might be interested in considering - what do we do when there’s nowhere left to go?

Okay so, I mean this very seriously: how has tumblr meaningfully become like twitter?

I don't personally find the sidebar view obnoxious and it seems to me like just another layout change that's pretty typical to tumblr. New users are getting signed up with a bit more emphasis on algorithmic feeds, but that is still very easy to change (MUCH easier than on any other social platform) and the algorithm has been there for everyone for quite a while, we just typically don't notice it because a lot of long-term tumblr users don't go into the "for you" feed.

I don't think that tumblr *has* fundamentally broken the way that it works to appeal to new users. My dash now is still very much like my dash in 2019, and still very much like my dash in 2018 (though much less pornographic). Reblogs are still reblogs, likes are still likes. Replies, for all that they seem like they've been around forever, are new and good and I think they work well. I'm irritated that the notes menu doesn't have a "view all" option but I think that's a worthwhile tradeoff for an easy way to see tags.

I *do not* understand why tumblr has broken linking back to previous reblogs but I don't think that's out of an effort to act like twitter; it is a bizarre choice that I dislike and don't understand but I also don't think that it has fundamentally changed the way the site works and i mean you've been around long enough that I'm sure you've had the same experience I have of going into the notes of a post and randomly clicking until you found a version that you wanted to reblog without a bunch of bullshit at the bottom. Tumblr has always kind of sucked, this change DOES suck but it doesn't suck in a way that is particularly novel or insurmountable. (For instance, I think this change sucks MUCH LESS than when they made posts with links invisible to the search, that is something that is genuinely bad that has been long lasting but doesn't get brought up much in lists of the ways that tumblr has gone wrong)

Tumblr *is* changing, but I think it is changing more incrementally and less terribly than other parts of the internet. I also hate the floating clown, the login walls, the dash-only view for blogs (you can't archive it and I HATE that), and - to an extent - the new lightbox on mobile. And I dislike that less than I thought I would but I don't think it's a fundamental change that necessarily impacts my interactions with the site - it *adds* a feature that I don't care for but it doesn't *break* anything that I require to have a good time on tumblr - in that way I think of it very much like Live. People hate Live so much and I find that perplexing because it is so easy to simply ignore it.

But that's not really your question; that's just some stuff I want people to think about because as much as tumblr has changed in the last two years it is nowhere near as fucked up as the recent things that twitter and reddit have pulled.

So, as to your question: where do we go?

Well. Not to be an extremely old person on the internet, but damned if I don't miss email lists. And forums. God I miss forums. Neither of those things has all the bonuses of platforms like twitter or reddit or tumblr or facebook, but they were great ways to hang out with people you liked on the internet.

The internet is changing. I can feel it, you can feel it, I'm pretty sure we're all like cattle in a field lifting our noses and hearing some distant rumbling and becoming slowly aware that it's almost time to run. There's a coming stampede and it isn't here yet but you know it's on its way. You're not imagining that, that's how things feel right now and there are a shitload of things contributing to it.

Things like SESTA/FOSTA and KOSA (which has not passed yet but is a big red flag waving on the horizon) have been eroding away the way that users on various platforms can function. Some platforms have consolidated in ways that harm users; some new platforms have popped up and shaken up the map of the internet; some platforms are being torn apart brick by brick by owners who don't care about the users. It kind of seems like people are actually looking up and realizing that advertising is A) bad and B) doesn't actually work and I think we're running straight toward another advertising-based crash like we saw in 2017. It feels like all the desperate things that tumblr is doing is just rearranging deck chairs on the titanic as the internet as a whole starts to sink into the ocean.

Honestly, I don't think it's that bad. I think it *feels* bad, but I think we're looking at a slow whimpering death of the platforms, not a bang. I think tumblr is going to hang on at least for a few years and I think it's going to end up like livejournal and myspace, which both still exist as websites that are recognizable as updated versions of the sites they were in 2004-2010. The thing that I think would really, honestly hurt tumblr in a fundamental way is if it moved to a more algorithmic and data-sales based model of advertising, and I think that's still pretty distant. I think Automattic is aware that killing the chronological feed would be the one unforgivable sin that would cause a mass exodus and a final crash, and I think when we see that, when we can't just scroll through the feed and see what our friends did that day in order of when they did it, that's when the party is over here.

But that's still not answering your question.

So, where do we go? What do we do? Well, for now, I'd say it's a good time to get contact info for your friends across various platforms. Get email addresses, get phone numbers.

Now is also the time for you to set up a personal website. NeoCities is currently the best place to do this, though it takes a lot more effort than just starting a blog on tumblr. I think that various oldschool blogging sites like Wordpress and Blogger/Blogspot/whatever the hell the google one is are a better place to have your emergency backup than a more platform-y platform if you aren't up to doing something with NeoCities.

If you've got the ability to do so and a group of people who are interested in the same core subject, set up a forum. There's a decent amount of off-the-shelf forum software out there and a text-and-small-images forum isn't prohibitively expensive, but it's never going to be huge and you're never going to have the kind of spread and virality and random connections that you would on a platform with millions or billions of users.

If you can't set up a forum, setting up or joining a discord server for your friends is a decent enough option at the moment, and may be a very good option for people who are looking to keep their interactions more private.

But yeah i think right now is a great time for people to start setting up their own personal websites, to start visiting actual webpages again, to start bookmarking their friends' websites, and to start collecting contact info that isn't tied to platforms.

[apollodarling-writes]

HUNTING GAMES

cws : dubcon, somnophilia, creampie, levi leaves the game, murder, code-breaking, i went over the word limit a little bit, implied manipulation and threats, dating sim! levi, levi gets a bit ummm sadistic?? at the end, college! reader, im still not happy with it but its been so long since ive updated, if i missed anything please let me know.

commissioned by anonymous.

MDNI.

there was a new otome game that had been all the rage recently. characterized by its cutesy, college-life approach, lurking beneath each syrupy-sweet word and blossoming friendship was a sinister undertone. the objective of the game was to achieve the best possible ending for the route you choose, however each love interest was desperate for your love, making said objective increasingly unattainable the further the plot progressed. you’d downloaded the game when your friend had shown you one of their favorite love interests, finding yourself hooked on the stoic culinary arts major, levi ackerman.

levi ackerman was the first route you’d ever chosen. although, in the beginning, he wasn’t too keen on raising your intimacy level. while looking at forums online, you realized that was just how he was. levi was harder to please, and by far one of the most dangerous and volatile love interests in the game. he wasn’t afraid to annihilate any other character to get what he wanted, and knew how to cover his tracks. it was hard to tell when he was on the cusp of snapping, what he liked and disliked, and where he was when he wasn’t pestering you about something trivial.

once you finally manage to get your intimacy level up to the point where his obsessive tendencies begin to show, his personality does a 180… with you at least. he’s more affectionate, gives you gifts for your daily check in — most of it being food he’s cooked just for you, and you find that he’s easier to fluster, stumbling over his words and a faint blush spreading across the apples of his cheeks. levi is still the same when he interacts with npcs, maybe a bit more on the protective and stand-off ish side when youre around. with love interests, however, levi is more hostile than ever.

you’d failed levi’s route many, many times, and had finally just achieved the good ending when you’d stumbled across something regarding a secret route of his. naturally, you wanted to see it to completion, but for some reason it just kept going. growing tired of this secret route, you chose to switch to another love interest.

this love interest in particular was very sweet, docile almost. armin seemed harmless enough, and you found that you enjoyed this route more than you had levi’s. although, after a little while, you noticed some easter eggs hidden in the back that made you feel a bit uneasy. there was a silhouette in the background of each interaction, watching everything play out, as well as a few npcs that seemed to disappear or avoid you altogether. the more you played, the more uneasy and afraid armin looked.

you noticed that armin’s eyes were often glancing around, his sentences shorter when the silhouette was more prevalent, and on a few occasions, he’d outright ignored you. once, you’d found him beaten and bloody in an alleyway outside of the boy’s dormitories, appearing half-conscious and you’d chosen the option to patch him up. after that, your intimacy levels skyrocketed and he was back to normal.

just before the two of you exchanged a kiss during one of the date events, the screen glitched and suddenly armin laid in a pool of his own blood. armin’s face became pixelated, which was unusual for this game since it was known for its graphics. was this part of the game? your heart skipped a beat, gooseflesh rising on your arms as levi entered the place armin was just moments before.

levi’s appearance glitched in places, the blood spatter on his face seeming to drip and become more realistic. that… wasnt supposed to happen. did the game have a bug? you think you see levi’s brow twitch, his lips tugging into a frown, but you cant be sure.

“[name]… why did you leave me?” levi is uncharacteristically upset with you, his face scrunched with what seems to be a mixture of frustration and hurt. “i thought you loved me.”

you knit your brows, trying to exit the route; to your horror, youre unable to leave. levi grows increasingly upset the more you click the button, “why are you on his route? can’t you see that youre mine? we’re made for each other!” he shouts, his voicelines glitching in places.

“why can’t i leave the damn route?” you grit out, one hand gripping the hem of your shirt. “what the fuck is going on?”

levi’s face falls, a far away look in his eyes as you are finally able to exit armin’s route. you groan, leaning back in your chair as you thread a hand through your hair. “is this part of levi’s secret route?” you wonder aloud.

after that, you didn’t touch the game for days. you searched forum after forum, site after site, searching for answers. why did levi suddenly appear on armin’s route? surely, it was part of levi’s secret route… right? your gut told you otherwise, but a game character being sentient? that was something that only happened in fanfiction, and certainly not to you.

a week had come and gone before you even thought about touching the game. you were busy with work, college, and still hadn’t found the answers you were looking for. maybe you’d be able to find them in-game… but what if levi kills another love interest? what if they don’t come back when the game resets? what if —

shakily exhaling through your mouth, you release the tension in your shoulders, cracking your fingers as you hover over the next love interest’s route. she was a very bubbly love interest, her smile bright and contagious enough to have one of your own tugging at the corners of your lips as you right-click on hange’s route.

the two of you interacted quite well, your natural dialogue choices furthering your intimacy level. hange was known to be a relatively easy route — not much reading between the lines, or even guesswork. she was very upfront for the most part. you found yourself forgetting about your secret investigation, genuinely losing yourself to the interactions between yourself and hange.

you only started getting suspicious again once you noticed the silhouette in the background once more. hange seemed to notice too, but she was more composed than armin had been. you squint as the silhouette flickers, your pulse thrumming in your throat as you quickly stutter out, “levi, leave hange alone or i’ll never play your route again.”

the silhouette rushes to the screen, stumbling over its words and blubbering about how it just loves you so much and can’t live without you! the anonymity fades, leaving levi in its place, and you realize that levi was more dangerous than you’d initially thought. hange is quick to take her leave once she notices the look in levi’s eyes, and you attempt to as well. levi’s anger flares up once more at the sight of your cursor clicking the exit game button.

“[first name] [last name], stop trying to leave me. why don’t you want me anymore? you can’t make me love you and then leave. you’re so cruel.” levi’s digits grip his collar, tugging it away from his throat as if he couldn’t breathe. “i-i learned things about you, for you — i tried my best to be the man you wanted, so why are you choosing other people?! am i not enough?!”

a chill shoots down your spine, cold washing over your body as your stomach tightens. you tuck your fingers into your palm, beginning to feel as if you were glued to your seat. how did he know your last name? you don’t remember putting that information in at all… maybe it was from your email? maybe the developers had a third-party thing going on?

levi becomes more frantic the more he speaks, pleading and begging for you to love him again. “i was your first route! you put the most effort into me! you can’t just leave!!” you have a creeping feeling that he’s looking at you — unlike most games, levi seems to lack a blank stare, and instead seems entirely focused on you.

“there’s no way he’s sentient.” you mumble to yourself, pressing a quivering hand to the damp skin of your forehead. “i’m just…. im just tired and stressed. yeah… i should just go to bed.”

you stumble out of your chair, body on autopilot and mind reeling as you put your monitor in sleep mode and push your chair under your desk, trudging over to your bed in disbelief. you tuck yourself in, and just before you’re able to fall asleep, you hear levi speak.

“you look so cute when you’re sleeping…” you hear his shaky breaths — the utter glee in his tone, as if he were more than content just to watch you. dread and unease fill your stomach as you realize you can’t ignore this anymore.

you shoot up in your bed, chest heaving and eyes blown wide as your gaze snaps to your monitor. could he see you? could he hear you? were you going crazy?

you slowly make your way over to your monitor and pull up your game, levi dreamily staring back at you as if you’d hung the stars in the sky. “are… you sentient?” your voice wavers as you ask this, fingertips digging into the hard plastic of your desk.

levi stills, his idle animation unusually stiff. for a moment you wonder if you should check yourself into the nearest hospital, but then, “you finally noticed… oh, baby, that makes me so happy— i’ve been trying to get your attention for so long!”

it’s your turn to still, your body going rigid and exhaling shakily. oh, you were royally fucked. if he was sentient, could he leave the game? god, you hope not.

“i’ve been watching you for so long! i even learned about your parents and your siblings for you! i know your address, the names of your friends; i know your all favorites, i know that you have a dog named rufus, i know that you like to listen to music while you clean —“

levi drones on and on, going over everything he’s learned about you during the time he’s been watching you. your breathing grows heavy and erratic; sinking into a primal state of fight or flight, you hurriedly try to uninstall the game from your computer, but it seems levi had already anticipated this. the screen glitches, flashing white as levi appears in different places — duplicates, different routes, pictures of you, npcs that went missing, hastily written notes all dedicated to you.

deciding that deleting the game wouldn’t work, you opt to unplug your computer. the screen stills for a moment, going completely black before a variety of coding begins to type out on the screen.

“leave me alone!” you shout, your voice cracking as you rip your monitors and pc off of your desk, throwing them across your room. they bounce off your dresser, knocking a few trinkets and such off, sending them clattering to the ground. you notice the coding slows for a moment, eyeing the shattered hardware scattered across your bedroom floor. “you’re just a game!! i don’t actually love you!”

“you’re wrong!!” levi’s voice is distorted and distant — glitching out in some places, or manifesting as a multitude of voices, some higher, some lower in pitch. “you love me — you do! i know you do!”

you panic, the cortisol and adrenaline running through your veins clouding your sense of judgment as you rush to your kitchen and grab a trash bag, picking up a baseball bat from a closet on your way back to your room. you hastily throw your setup in the bag and grip the bat, swinging the metal bat back and smashing the contents of the bag until you feel safe and can’t hear the whirring of the code any longer. you stumble back onto the edge of your bed, staring at the bag as you strain your ears for any signs of levi. heaving a sigh, you wipe the sweat from your brow and gather all the miscellaneous pieces of your setup that were strewn across your floor, placing them in the bag.

you feel disconnected from your body as you bring the bag outside, opening your garbage can and tossing them in. a drop on your face shocks you out of your stupor, but you realize that it was only a drop of rain. your fingers tremble still, your breathing still erratic as you try to calm your racing heart. how was any of this even possible?

you slowly trudge back inside your home, entering your room and collapsing on your bed. this must be a bad dream. it has to be; there’s no way that this could happen. you lie awake for awhile, your mind spinning round and round again. thoughts come and go, never staying for too long, and you forget them immediately after they depart. the events of the night had worn you out, your eyes growing impossibly heavy, drifting off into a deep slumber.

outside, the monitor screen flickers to life. code rapidly pans down the screen, sparks flying as a hand slowly peels out. carefully, levi drags himself out of the game and into…. wait, why is he in a trash can? surely, his beloved wouldn’t…? with haste, levi tracks his way inside your home, brows furrowed with quiet rage. how could you just throw him away like that?

levi takes his sweet time cleaning up, lathering himself in your products and sniffing your towel before drying himself with it. he runs his fingers along the countertops, walls, and doorframes, trudging along to your room as he admires your home. it isn’t long before he finds you sleeping soundly atop your bed sheets. levi’s breath instantly catches in his throat, his heart racing in his chest as he approaches your slumbering form. you were even prettier in person.

carefully crawling onto your bed, the pads of his fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, trailing down to your shoulders. his eyes wander to your exposed flesh before flickering back up to your lips. one kiss couldn’t hurt, right? carefully leaning down, levi molds his lips to yours; his heart nearly stops the moment he tastes you. one kiss isn’t enough. he needs more! levi unbuckles his belt and ties your hands to the headboard, then drags his hand along your chest, swallowing thickly as he feels his pants tighten.

levi quietly positions himself between your thighs, burying his head in your neck as he leisurely grinds his cock into you. biting his lip to muffle his whimpers, he lifts your shirt, baring your breasts to his greedy eyes. levi immediately latches onto one, his tongue swirling around the erect flesh as he works your pajama pants to the side.

“need to taste you, baby.” he murmurs. levi kneels between your thighs, his tongue slowly lapping at the arousal that had begun to leak from you. he takes but a moment to shimmy his pants down far enough to fist his cock, slowly pumping it with his free hand. the man softly groans into your folds, a sleepy whine parting your lips in response.

as he continues lapping at you, levi feels his stomach tighten and stops all movement. he waits for the feeling to subside, then aligns himself with your entrance. he shallowly thrusts into your cunt, slowly working his way inside and bottoming out with a broken whimper. levi’s mind spins at the way your walls grip him — the feeling almost as if he were made to fuck you, as if you were made to take him. his fingers grip your hips as he attempts to control himself, pressing both of your legs further out for easier access.

it isn’t long before levi loses himself in the feeling; it is his first time after all. his hips snap into yours, whimpering and whining through gritted teeth all the while, and you slowly begin to wake. levi’s eyes roll back as the feeling in his tummy snaps, not once stopping as he pumps you full of his cum.

you let out a confused moan, your eyes slowly adjusting to see levi’s fucked out face gazing down at you. “f—feels so good…” he whispers, slotting his lips to yours. you attempt to shimmy away, but it was to no avail; the asshole had tied you up. you attempt to fight him off, but it’s to no avail as he’s stronger than you and has shackled you to your bed.

waves of unwanted pleasure course through your body, forcing soft whimpers and whines from your lips as levi unknowingly rocks his hips into the places that have your eyes rolling back. gazing down at you with something akin to reverence, levi presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, slowly circling his name and bringing you closer to your climax.

“cmon, baby.” levi groans, feeling your walls tighten around his cock. “cum f’me.”

you simply shake your head in response, screwing your eyes shut and murmuring through a whimper, “go fuck yourself.”

levi only chuckles at your words, seemingly amused, and lifts your hips; the man slings an arm around your lower back, one hand gripping the meat on your hip, and forces you to meet his thrusts.

nothing seemed real at the moment. you were unable to stop levi from leaving the game, and now the man was taking advantage of you. you suppose the only good thing in this situation is that despite it all, levi was going to make you cum.

your back arches as your fingers dig into your palms, your cunt pulsing and fluttering as your eyes roll into the back of your head. a high-pitched whine erupts from your throat, levi smirking victoriously at the sight beneath him, and you relinquish control; melting into his hold, you wordlessly beg for more.

you didn’t know what would come after this, nor did you know how you were going to fight your way out of it. the only thing you knew is that this felt good. somewhere deep in your mind, you knew you didn’t want this, but had decided to relish in the feeling of being desired for the time being.

[aortashit]

Press to switch

as u all know by now, to shift from state A to state B you only need to select state B as the state that u will embody, it takes literally a mere decision/choice

and what's better than u just having to make a choice is that u get to choose from unlimited options, in other words infinite states and states are what reflect therefore

Infinite states = Infinite realities

There are realities where everything is the same as the current one except that ur hair colour is one shade lighter, while there are realities where ur life is different by 360°, and of course everything in between

In other words any reality u could think of, already exists, or else u wouldn't have been able to desire it

you can't desire something that doesn't exist or that u will still have to "create"

CREATION IS FINISHED

your only job is to select whatever state you would like in imagination and that state will shift you into an already finished reality where the desired version of u already exists

Think of switching states like pressing a button, u press that button whenever u dislike the current one u are embodying and that simple press of a button switches u to another state!

here's a simple visual example I made for u:

in fact, this example I just showed u isn't down to the T either cus switching states is wayyyyyy easier than pressing a button, its as easy as just making a choice and sticking to that choice (persisting)

[ventismacchiato]

25 behind the lens — a glimpse of us !

scaramouche x g!n reader

notes; the next day

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You were quite grateful for the VIP pass Kuni gifted you with because it gave you a seat directly in front of the Fatui panel. You felt uneasy under the stares of your coworkers, but once your locked eyes with Kuni who sent you a tiny wave your stress was lifted.

You kept to yourself for the entire panel, most of the questions directed at the entire group. Most of it was stuff you already knew from being friends with them as Star.

You were zoned out and focusing on how good Kuni looked sitting behind his mic when you heard your name mentioned in a question. You turn your head to see a timid girl standing by the podium, her face pink from the entire room collectively letting out a cheer after her question.

“Can you repeat that?” Kuni asks, his brow quirked.

The girl cleared her throat, “What’s something Y/n does that flusters someone as poker-faced as you?”

You shrunk in your seat at the question, cheeks aflame at the implication.

Childe let out a low whistle as Kuni fiddled with his microphone’s wire for a few seconds, twirling the cord around his finger.

“Everything,” he eventually says, ears red as Heizou smacks him on the shoulder. Kuni looks at your figure before focusing back on the panel.

Everything.

You wondered if that included Star as well.

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

behind the lens !

masterlist — prev | next

the emoji key in case anyone was confused (⭐️ = star, 🍃 = venti, ⚔️ = xiao, ☀️ = aether, 🌸 = ayaka, 🍁 = kazuha, ☂️ = scara, 🥕= childe, 🔎 = heizou, 🧪 = albedo, 🦊 = nari)

click this to read the star qna pic easier if ur having trouble

title from joji

typo in childe’s text **each other longer

author’s notes — long time no see

synopsis — you, better known as STARDUST, and BALLADEER have always been in competition for the top streamer spot on twitch, which is especially impressive since the two of you have never shown your faces. you’ve never been on good terms, constantly one-upping each other in matches and getting into petty arguments on twitter, causing your fans to also dislike each other. that’s until BALLADEER does a face reveal that breaks the internet with his good looks…which makes you realize it’s the same guy you went on a date with last night. the type of date that made you crave to see him again. the only problem was he didn’t know you were STARDUST and he was way different behind the lens than he portrayed himself online to you. should you keep your identity a secret to salvage the relationship or just let him go?

taglist is closed — @captainzep @elysiumarchieve @plinkuro @sakkakuu-squared @eliqusgenma @vuvulia @kunikuzushiit @ins4nebish @stxrgxzxr @lilneps @uma-umie @goubaia @mitsukifilms @caesars-bubbles @wheneverthesunrise @its-like-twilight @kazuhalvrr @erosdevil @thenightsflower @p1utto @noodleshark420 @lxry-chxn @orbitscara @court-jester-stuff @lauragalliart @veyu002 @kaeyas-eyepatch-69 @leathernourishingshoepolish @satowaluverr @lexlapis @drunkwithfever @exhaustedcommunist @vincanzu @ainlaw @ovaliz @kitsuvil @whatamidoing89 @celestair @kunihaver @kazioli @xiaosoneandonly @cridtiins @cherrybeomgyu @asukahiriko @moon-320 @orionicchaos [1/3]

[hheaven-sentt]

blood and bone (II)

summary: you want to open him up like the bodies you're used to, and he wants to keep himself at an arm's length | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: gore, violence, language, panic attacks, child death, a bit of cringe, angst if you squint, death and dying, yearning and pining, probably incorrect medical happenings (again, everyone say thank you google)

notes: i thought i was done after this one but there's more i promise. i have written closer to 15k now, so be ready | ao3

one | three

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

It’s almost two weeks before you see Leon again. He left your apartment sometime before you woke up that night, probably escaping before it could get awkward. You pretend that you haven’t thought about it almost every second since, and he pretends it never happened. Both of you seem content with that.

“Hey, when you get a chance, can you see if Leon’s found anything about the mystery virus?” Rebecca asks one morning, spinning in her chair to look at you. You narrow your eyes in confusion.

“Why can’t you do it?” you ask. She smiles at you like she knows something you don’t.

“Don’t pretend like I haven’t noticed you’ve been avoiding each other,” she says, grinning. “One second he’s like your personal guard dog, and the next, you’re pretending he doesn’t exist,”

“He has his own job to attend to,” you say by way of explanation. Rebecca narrows her eyes at you. “He’s not my guard dog,”

“Just see if he’ll send us whatever he’s found,” she says. “He’ll be on site tomorrow,”

“Why?”

“Probably using it as an excuse to make sure you’re still breathing,” she teases. You hate the way your face heats up at the comment. 

“I’m sure he has better things to do than check on me,” you say, but you’re not as confident in that anymore. Whatever he was doing that night, work related or otherwise, was pushed aside to make sure you were okay. The entire interaction gnaws at your stomach.

Easier that way, he had said. What did that even mean? How could it be easier to pretend to dislike someone? You always found it easier to be on people’s good side, not make them assume you hate them. The thought makes you frown.

Sure enough, you catch Leon in the hallway chatting to someone the next day. He looks good, comfortable. Whether you intend to or not, you fix your hair a bit before approaching.

“Got a second?” you ask, interrupting the conversation. The woman looks at you with a narrowed glare, but you keep your focus on Leon. He glances between you and the woman before nodding.

He follows you to your office, where he shuts the door behind him. You can’t tell why that makes you nervous. It isn’t often that you’re alone with Leon, and the last time you were, you felt far too giddy about it.

“Rebecca wanted me to ask if you’ve found anything on our mystery virus,” you say, wringing your hands together. “I’m sure you would’ve sent it to us already if you had,”

He shrugs. “A few leads here and there. I’ve sent most of it your way,”

You frown, your eyebrows bunching together. “Then why would she..?”

Oh. Curse Rebecca and her cunning nature. Your frown deepens. Leon seems to put the pieces together too, given the way he’s looking at you.

“Sorry to waste your time, then,” you say, looking at your shoes. “I’m sure your conversation with that woman was far more riveting,”

The words come out clipped even though you didn’t mean for them to. Your tone confuses you, like your brain is operating on its own accord.

“We were just chatting,” Leon says, taking a step forward. Your heart leaps into your throat. “Am I not allowed to do that?”

He’s smiling when you look up at him. It’s lopsided and teasing, and it makes your heart rate tick up.

“You’re allowed to do whatever you please,” you say, tone betraying you once again. So what if he pretends like you don’t exist, but then talks and laughs with a woman you’ve never seen before like they’re old friends? It has nothing to do with you.

“Are you…jealous?” he asks. The word comes out of his mouth like he’s mocking you, but you’re not sure he is. You scowl.

“No,” you say, though you’re unsure of how true that is. “Just apologizing for stealing you away for nothing,”

He’s full on grinning now. It makes your cheeks heat up and your insides churn. You hate whatever sickness he’s given you. Maybe you’ll call in sick tomorrow, just to be sure you don’t have a mystery virus of your own.

“I wouldn’t say it was nothing,” he says. “No harm in speaking to each other,”

You think there’s a lot of harm in speaking to him. Something’s changed about you when you’re around him. You’re unable to form coherent thoughts, unable to speak, and unable to act like he doesn’t affect you. You despise it, and despise him for making you this way. Maybe you caught a bug, a cold or something. That would explain away your symptoms.

“No, there’s not,” you say. “I have some work to do, but you’re welcome to wait around for Rebecca. I’m sure she’d have better questions for you,”

He nods, and takes a seat on top of a desk. He folds his legs under him. Your fingers twitch with the urge to reach out to him, but you refrain, and return to your work.

Leon makes it much harder to focus. He’s not even doing anything objectively annoying, unless you count his existence as annoying. Though you might; it’s definitely starting to feel that way. You can’t get through half a report without cutting a glance at him. Every now and then, he picks up a knick knack that’s made its home on your desk, inspects it thoroughly, and then returns it to its place. He does this several times, like he’s trying to dissect your brain without speaking to you. At one point, he picks up a picture of your family.

“Am I allowed to ask, or is that off limits?” he says, looking up at you for the first time since he sat down. You blink at him.

“I haven’t seen them in a few years,” you say. “They live in Oregon,”

He hums, inspecting the picture further. “You have a sister,”

“She’s two years younger than me,” you say, turning your chair to face him. “She’s got this big house and a husband, two kids and one on the way last I heard,”

“And where do they think you are?” he asks. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“They think I’m in Nicaragua right now, doing research on medicinal plants,” you say. There’s a distinct pain in your chest that radiates outwards towards your limbs. “I don’t have cell service there, so I haven’t spoken to them in almost a year,”

Leon frowns, setting the picture back down on your desk. “I’m sorry. That must be hard,”

You nod. “It is,” you say. “But it’s something we all have to do. It’s important to keep them at an arm’s length,”

“I know,” he says. “That doesn’t make it easier,”

“No, it doesn’t,”

The silence returns, but it’s strangely more comfortable. An itch blooms across your skin as you watch Leon. There’s something different about him, has been since you returned home. Sometimes, you find yourself thinking about the way his arms felt around you, and you almost wish he would do it again. For some reason, you think he would if you asked. It’s a working theory, one that has yet to be tested, but you’re nothing if not dedicated to science.

“I lost my parents when I was young,” he says, voice quiet even if you’re the only two in the room. “It’s not something I think about anymore, but I know how hard that could be,”

You feel like your heart freezes in your chest. Leon just told you something about himself, something that has no bearing on his wellbeing or the situation at hand. He’s being open, honest. You want to fling your arms around him and kiss him senseless.

“I’m sorry,” you say instead, your last bit of decorum holding you with two hands. “That must have been hard for you,”

He shrugs. “It was. But you learn to live with it,”

You nod. He’s watching you carefully, an emotion present on his face that you can’t discern. There’s a tension in the air, one that makes you nervous. You really want to reach out to him. You wonder about the way his skin might feel against yours. He’s all calloused palms, rough edges, and stunningly beautiful features. You didn’t even know people could be made this beautiful.

Rebecca cuts through the tension with her entrance. “Good, you’re both here,”

You blink away the interaction, hoping that it didn’t look as intense as it felt. “You need both of us?”

“Not really,” she says. “But it certainly makes my life easier,”

Rebecca bustles through the room, spreading a few pictures out on the desk in front of you. They’re all of ugly, mangled bodies. You wish she would’ve warned you before forcing you to look at them. All the bodies look more or less the same, and you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference if it weren’t for a few defining features on each of them. They look eerily similar to the one you dissected a few weeks ago. Missing fingers, toes, noses, jaws. Skin simply falling off their bones and collecting into a sinewy pool beneath them. It makes your stomach churn.

“These are all bodies collected at different sites,” Rebecca says. “See how they’re all in more or less the same condition? We think this might be our mystery virus,”

You nod, inspecting the pictures a bit closer. Leon looms over you to see, too, invading your space. You’re almost never this close to him, and when you are, he definitely doesn’t smell this good. You wrinkle your nose.

“Do we happen to have samples?” you ask, keeping your focus on the images. “I’d really like to cross examine them,”

“Way ahead of you,” Rebecca says. “They’re in the lab right now,”

You hum.

“When and where are these from?” Leon asks, turning the picture in front of you more towards him.

Rebecca moves in between you. “This one is from a few days ago, found only a few miles out from where you guys were. This one is from about a week before that, and it was found about a day’s walk out,”

You furrow your brows as you take in her information. Those two are definitely from the same site, and one could’ve wandered off.

“And this one?” you ask, pointing to the decidedly grosser one of the three.

“That’s just the thing,” Rebecca says. “This one was found here,”

“Here?” you ask, spinning to face her. ���Like, here here?”

She shakes her head. “It was found out in New York. Still too close for comfort, though,”

You nod, taking a closer look at the picture.

“What are you thinking?” Leon asks in a hushed voice. You hate the way it crawls across your skin.

“I’m thinking that we need to take a trip to New York,” you say, locking your gaze with him. He grins at you like you’re sharing a secret. You feel your heart hammer in your ears.

“I’ll give Hunnigan a call,” he says, keeping his eyes on you. You finally return his grin.

With that, he’s up and out of the room quickly, bustling past Rebecca, who turns her gaze to follow him out of the room.

“What was that?” she asks, pinning you with a look. You shrug.

“Just excited about a lead,” you say, though you know there’s more to it. You try your best not to let it show on your face.

You return to your reports as best you can. Your brain is still swimming with the prospect of traveling to New York. Before, you’d been out in the middle of Iowa, but now you’re much closer. Although you feel like you’re onto something finally, the thought of it being on this side of the Mississippi frightens you. You try to shake the nerves. Rebecca keeps a watchful eye on you as you hammer through as many reports as you can. You’re certain she can feel your giddiness rolling off you in waves.

Leon wants to go with you. For the first time since you met him, he doesn’t seem completely disgusted with the idea of working with you. It makes you smile.

“I know you don’t have a lovesick grin on your face right now,” Rebecca says, bringing you back to the real world. You wipe the smile from your face.

“I don’t have a lovesick anything,” you say, cheeks growing warm. “The only sick I am is sick of you,”

Rebecca laughs, full and wide, and you know she’s just teasing. It makes you feel like a child. You remember how you felt in grade school when you’d liked one of the boys in your class. He was funny and smart, and he never made you feel outcasted by your interests. Obviously nothing came of it; you’ve always been timid and reserved. But you remember those feelings fondly. They’re akin to what you feel now.

The thought is sobering.

“Oh my God,” you say aloud, mostly to yourself. Rebecca eyes you as you turn to face her. “I have a fucking crush on Leon Kennedy,”

Rebecca sets her mouth into a line, attempting in earnest to withhold a laugh. “I could’ve told you that,”

You put your face in your hands to save yourself the shame of bearing your burning cheeks. You can even feel the spark of heat in the tips of your ears. Suddenly, you feel pathetic, weak.

“This is so embarrassing,” you mumble. You’re not even sure Rebecca can hear you through the muffling of your hands. “I might just have to quit. Run away and start a new life. Fake my death,”

This time, Rebecca does laugh. She stands and puts her hands on your shoulders, and says, “There’s no need to do all that,”

“What other option is there?”

“Everyone has a little workplace crush,” she says, giving your shoulders a squeeze. “It happens to the best of us,”

You fold your arms on your desk and plop your head into the middle of them. You can’t bear to look Rebecca in the eye right now. “I hate this,”

With a pat, she says, “You’ll grow to love it,”

You’re back in the building two days later, bag slung over your shoulders as you wait on the helipad for Leon. You’re bouncing on your heels and shifting your weight between your feet as you anxiously await his arrival. You haven’t seen him since your little revelation, and the thought of spending who knows how much time alone with him is making you nervous. You smooth a hand over your hair.

You’re an adult, act like one, you think, gnawing on your lower lip. This is your worst nightmare. Whatever hell awaits you in New York is nothing compared to the churning of your stomach now.

Leon bursts through the door to the roof, jogging to meet you at the helicopter. “Sorry, I was running a bit behind,”

“You’re lucky we didn’t leave without you,” you quip, the corners of your mouth turning upward slightly.

“Good luck with that,” he says.

It’s only a few minutes until you’re up in the air. You’re hyper aware of the way your shoulder brushes his every few seconds with each jostle of the vehicle. You’re also aware of your breathing. Is it too fast? Too slow? Are you inhaling often enough? You feel like you’re pretending to be a person and this is your first day on the job. You wish you could go back to the cold indifference of before.

It’s almost two hours later when you finally touch down. In that time, you could’ve watched a movie and maybe started another one. Instead, you spent the time holding your breath and giving clipped responses whenever Leon asked if you were okay. The nerves are definitely getting to you. You feel your eye twitch.

You’re at another makeshift pop-up site. There’s a few tents scattered around, a lone porta-potty that makes you cringe, and a group of people awaiting your arrival.

“Listen,” Leon says, hand circling your elbow to keep you rooted in place. “I know you’re used to doing the grunt work, but you’re our star player right now. They’re going to want to talk to you,”

You frown. “Can’t you do it for me?”

Leon grins at you. “I don’t have that brain of yours,”

With a sigh, you nod. He releases your arm, and you sling your bag over your shoulder. The group contains four men and one woman, all of which look equally as intimidating. You feel out of place. These people are former cops, ex-military, and trained to shoot with their eyes closed. You just happened to know how to stitch people closed and read too much about medicine in your free time. The playing field was anything but level, and you were the one going uphill.

You approach them carefully, paying attention to how they react to you. They don’t move much, save for their eyes watching the way you shift on the balls of your feet as you come to stand in front of them.

“Glad you could make it,” the woman says. “We’ve been falling over ourselves trying to figure this out. We hope you can help us,”

You nod. “I intend to,”

There’s not much conversation after that. They lead you to a small tent that’s been set up. Your own workstation. You’ve never had one like this before. Usually, you pick a spot that’s been unclaimed until your arrival, and you only ever use it for injuries. Now, though, you were going to do real work. It almost excited you.

“I’m sure it’s probably different from what you’re used to,” the woman says, having followed you into the tent. You turn to consider her.

“Not really, honestly,” you say, shrugging. “It is nice to have my own space, though,”

She smiles. “We’ve been told you’re not usually ahead on cases, so I hope you know what you’re doing,”

You tilt your chin up a bit higher when you say, “I’m more than capable of handling it. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have accepted my help,”

The woman nods, then leaves you to your devices. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. She’s right, you’re not used to being a frontrunner on cases, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t figure it out. You shake the interaction from your bones as you begin setting up.

When Leon finds you later, he seems tired. You feel grateful that he did, in fact, do most of the talking, but you’re sure he’s exhausted from it. He settles down into a chair that’s been left askew in your set up process.

“I’d like to try to find one,” you say, not knowing how else to broach the subject. When you turn to look at him, Leon’s eyes are so wide that you’re worried they’ll fall out of his skull.

“No way,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s too dangerous,”

“I need to see how they operate,” you say. “We’ll never learn anything by studying their remains,”

He frowns. “You’ve learned a lot so far,”

“Not enough,” you huff, wringing your hands together. “I need to know what they do, what they eat, how long they live. I’ll never get that from a corpse,”

Leon grumbles, mulling the idea over in his brain. “There’s a thousand ways for this to go wrong,”

You smile. “You won’t let it,”

Leon comes to collect you the next morning. You’re clad in a pair of boots, an old pair of jeans, and a loose fitting t-shirt. You hope it’s good enough for whatever awaits you. Leon looks less than pleased to be bringing you along. He hasn’t given up his sour mood from the night before. You try to ignore it and the way it makes you feel.

You walk for most of the journey. You’re tailing behind Leon as he scouts the area, watching for anything that moves with ill intent. You’re not sure why. There’s nothing more than rabbits and deer where you are. It isn’t until you happen upon the ruins of what was once a small city that you begin to feel anxious. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea, but there’s definitely no going back now.

Buildings crumble around you. You can smell the smoke of fires that you can’t see, and the rotten stench of bodies isn’t making it any better. What was once asphalt is now gravel beneath your feet. It crunches under your weight with each step. It’s dystopian. There’s not a single sign of life, not even the chirp of a bird, for miles. Something lurches in your stomach.

You follow Leon towards the city’s center. There isn’t much happening, but there’s an air of apprehension. You’re waiting for the other shoe to drop, so to speak. You gnaw on your bottom lip.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement. Leon sees it too, reaching around to push you further behind him. It’s a person, with jerky and inconsistent movements, hobbling along the broken road. Your breath catches in your throat. Leon ushers you behind a piece of broken concrete, giving you the perfect view of your subject.

It’s covered in blood. You’re not sure of its origin, but you don’t think you want to find out. It’s in a similar condition to the bodies you’ve seen: missing fingers and nose, a jaw that’s clinging to cheek, and skin seems to just roll off the muscle with each staggering step. 

“I need to get closer,” you whisper. Leon looks like you’ve just told him you’re going to shoot yourself.

“Absolutely not,” he says. “You’re lucky we’re as close as we are,”

“I need to see it,” you say. Whatever pleading look is in your eye somehow works. You see some of the tension ease off of him. “Just..cover me, or whatever,”

With a curt nod, he shuffles back a step. You begin your crawl towards the creature. If it notices your movement, it doesn’t react. It continues its stumbling trek to whatever destination. You rise a bit as you approach, and this time, it turns towards you. You almost gasp, but manage to keep it within your lungs. It doesn’t have any eyes, just gaping, bloody holes where eyes should be. It’s wearing the pieces of a tattered dress. You hold your breath as it turns what should be its nose towards the sky like a dog. There’s a scent in the air that it catches. It moves with more ferocity in the direction of whatever it smells.

You turn back to Leon, who beckons you with his hand. You move to follow the creature. You wish you didn’t once you see what it’s after. The mangled corpse of a child stares up at you, unblinking. Her arms are twisted above her head, half eaten. She’s missing so much of herself. Your eyes turn watery as you turn and vomit on the concrete below you.

In your sputtering, you don’t notice the creature has now turned its sights on you. It approaches much quicker than you’ve seen it move, and you scurry backwards until your back connects with a piece of fallen debris. Your heart hammers in your chest as you try to collect your breathing. You hope it can’t hear your racing pulse or the quickness of your breath. Blood roars in your ears as it draws nearer, emitting a sound so inhuman that it makes you want to vomit again.

Two loud pops, and it collapses on top of your legs. In a panic, you kick it away, curling in on yourself once it’s been removed. You claw at your hair, breathing so quickly now that you’re sure you’ll pass out.

Leon’s in front of you seconds later, scanning you for injuries. You can’t breathe. You can’t do anything but stare at the creature and remember the corpse of that girl.

“Stop,” Leon says, pulling your hair free of your rigid fingers. “Stop. You’ll hurt yourself,”

You can’t even speak. You need something to grab. You grip onto Leon’s forearms with all your might. You’re definitely going to black out.

“You’re not going to black out,” he says, voice too calm for what you’re feeling and thinking. “That would be a real pain in my ass,”

Your breathing finally begins to slow, a pain in your chest radiating out towards your limbs. You look Leon in the eyes for the first time, and you feel instantly calmer. He’s here, he kept you safe, he’s helping you now.

“That’s right,” he says, voice low enough to be secretive. “I’m here. I’m here,”

You nod, mouth feeling dry. You’re babbling, thoughts coming out in words that you don’t even recognize. Your racing thoughts begin to slow. You blink hard a few times, trying to refocus. You can’t stop thinking about that creature.

“Eyes,” you say, voice hoarse like you’ve been screaming. Maybe you have.

“Eyes?”

“It didn’t have any eyes,” you say. Leon’s brow furrows in confusion. “Leon, it didn’t have any eyes,”

“Okay?” he says.

“Soft tissue,” you mumble, thinking. “The infection goes for soft tissues first,”

At this, Leon breaks out into a grin. “Good thing this trip wasn’t for nothing,”

“Bring it back with us,” you say, beginning to stand. Leon helps you to your feet. You don’t take your eyes off the collapsed body near you. “It was going to eat. It needs fuel. Not for the body, though. For the virus,”

Leon drags the body behind him. You’re not too concerned. It’s already so tattered and torn that any additional damage won’t matter much. It’s just too fresh to lose.

You arrive back at your site and lead Leon into your tent. He sets the body up on a table as you pull on a pair of gloves. You’re covered in dirt, so you’re not sure why you bother, but the thought of rooting around in the body with no additional layer makes you sick to your stomach. You get to work quickly, searching the body.

“I can’t believe I didn’t look for this earlier,” you mumble. Leon watches you carefully, like you’ll break at any moment.

“Look for what?” he asks. His voice is delicate and sweet. If it weren’t for the anxiety clenching your heart and the circumstances, you would kiss him.

“The stomach,” you say, cracking a few ribs. The sound is gentle, and the bones give way with little force.

You find the stomach after peeling back a few layers of muscle that have been reduced to almost nothing. It’s so thin and flimsy that you’re not even sure you could touch it without it disintegrating in your fingers. The innermost layers have been completely eaten away. The sight makes you giddy. A laugh bubbles up in your throat and a smile cracks across your dry lips.

The virus goes for soft tissues first. It eats them away. This explains the missing fingers and toes. It explains the jaws clinging onto life. Connective tissues are being corroded, which is causing the skin to slough off the bodies in pools.

“Oh my God,” you laugh, grinning so wide that your cheeks hurt. “Oh my God!”

Leon looks at you like you’re crazy, which you can’t blame him for. You’re clutching a half decomposed stomach in your hand and laughing like someone just told you the funniest joke. You’re certain you look crazy.

“I sure hope you figured something out,” Leon says, a teasing tone etched into the words. You laugh again.

“I think I did,” you say. “Let me close this up, and then I’ll fill you in,”

You make quick work of the clean up. You shuffle into a new pair of clothes after wiping the dirt from your skin as best you can. You find Leon, clean and comfortable, sitting in a chair in your tent. Your skin sizzles under his gaze, and you try to remember the events of the day. They’re tinged pink by his presence.

“Gonna tell me what’s going on in that brain of yours?” he asks, smiling slightly at you. “Or do I have to guess?”

You roll your eyes, sitting across from him. “I was getting there,”

You pull a few files out of a box from under the work table. You dig through them for a minute before handing them to Leon.

“What are these?” he asks, looking at you through his lashes. You grin, feeling giddy from your knowledge and his stare.

“Our virus,” you say, breathless.

Leon furrows his brows and begins flipping through the files. When he’s finished reading, he looks up at you, grinning like you’ve told him the greatest news in the world. He stands, rereading the file and pacing. You stand, too, mostly because you can’t sit anymore.

“You’re a genius,” he says, softly, sweetly. Your heart hammers in your chest.

“I knew I’d seen something like this before,” you say, voice a bit far off. “It’s been modified somehow, but that’s our virus,”

Leon discards the file on top of a cabinet. There’s a tension in the room now, one that makes you feel a bit smaller. You’re drunk on his praise. You want him to think you’re smart and funny and kind. And you want him to tell you so.

He approaches you quietly, soft steps entering your orbit. Your breath catches in your throat.

“Thank you,” you say. “For earlier,”

“Don’t thank me,” he returns, studying you. “But don’t ever do that to me again,”

Your cheeks heat up. You wonder, for a moment, if he’s going to kiss you. You want him to. You really want him to. You think you want it more than you’ve ever wanted anything. Gently, far more gentle than you’ve ever beheld, he takes one of your hands in his. His thumb brushes over your knuckles, sending a shiver down your spine. You fight the urge to look away from him.

“Please don’t ever do that to me again,” he says. His voice is so soft, like he’s sharing a secret with you. Maybe he is.

“I’ll try not to,” you say, equally as quiet.

For a moment, there is nothing else around you. No stark white tent, no decaying corpses, no danger. Just him. He smells like cedar and smoke. His skin is so smooth up close, so perfectly crafted. His delicate features are so beautiful; soft lips, dimpled chin, round cheekbones.

He opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but hesitates. Instead, he gives  your hand a squeeze and takes a step away from you. You feel a stutter in your heartbeat.

Easier that way.

Easier at an arm’s length.

You’re not sure you want easy anymore.

[springsylph]

// hello, neighbor

modern day arthur morgan x female reader. mdni. voyeurism (oops), masturbation (m & f). reader is in college. brought to you by: my phone! again!

“with the blinds open?”

“...with the blinds open.”

a two-way confessional on the campus plaza turns into a harsh spotlight the second the admission leaves your lips, though you suspect that the heat would have driven you down this road at some point.

the next page you turn in your textbook is a little harsher than necessary, and you take the slight tearing noise as a sign to shut it. you could hardly focus enough to digest it, anyway. you turn to your friend, their work long since abandoned next to the half-empty bottle of soda gone flat.

"i mean," and you pause, trying to build your next sentences with the utmost care. "it doesn't seem like he's got malicious intent. he's...he's a nice guy, you know?"

"did you come to that conclusion before or after you caught him jacking off with the blinds open?"

before, without a doubt. you're not sure you can bring yourself to dislike someone who'd helped muscle your furniture up four flights of narrow stairs.

running into arthur morgan on the street that day had been the closest you've come to justice in a while. he hadn’t made an offer to help—just pulled the cardboard boxes right from your arms and told you to point him in the direction of your apartment door, and you’d said yes, because the shame of knowing he’d seen you struggle for the last hour had been too much to bear.

after the first trip up, your reprieve turned to torture. not because of the tremor in your thighs, or the burn in your lungs, but something far more sinister: the trail of hair dipping into the waistband of his jeans. the rivulets of sweat dotting the back of his neck. the flex of his back each time his grip shifts to accommodate the weight of the boxes.

his cheeks, flushed with a pretty scarlet, had deteriorated any semblance of self-preservation you could ever buy off of amazon (pepper spray was getting rather expensive), and the lopsided smile he’d given you—a meek little thing—nearly sent the glass of lemonade you’d poured for him sliding to the floor.

it was embarrassing. and more importantly, pathetic. but the only feeling with the balls to surmount your shame is that eager throb of unadulterated lust.

it’d only grown worse once you’d started pestering him with questions. turns out, he lived in the apartment right across the street from yours.

“s’only temporary, though. just till an acquaintance of mine gets back from overseas.”

temporary. that was fine. though, you do feel a little uncomfortable at the thought of fucking him in someone else’s apartment. not that you were planning on it. but…his “acquaintance” would have to have some heavy pockets though, right? so you find out one relatively non-invasive question later that arthur actually worked as a security guard—because of course he does.

you think it might have to do with the way his fingers drum against the cold countertop as he speaks. the sag of his t-shirt collar doesn’t help much either. but some harebrained part of you convinces your synapses to fire just enough to ask for his number.

to help with…appliances.

it only hits you after he leaves that working in security didn’t mean shit when it came down to appliance repairs, but you thank your lucky stars arthur was nice enough to hand over his number anyways.

from there it’s straightforward.

or, it should have been.

flirting doesn’t exactly fall under your area of expertise, but you do know how to observe. not stalk—that would be weird.

observe and observe only. just until you can work up the nerve to talk to him again.

arthur couldn’t seem to close the blinds, which made it a little easier. he was a creature of habit: he’d leave in the early morning, returning just after the sun sends the last of its rays to cascade down the walls of the building. he always seemed to return more weary than the day before, which did at least put your envy of the condominium complex to rest.

but you weren’t quite sure just what you were getting into until around two weeks after your move in.

your apartment is submerged in darkness when you finally manage to jiggle the key into the lock. the only source of light comes from the warm glow of arthur’s apartment, the sun to the moon of your window, spilling out over your desk and onto the floor.

changing out of your clothes is a quick and efficient affair, as per usual; an oversized shirt and underwear are all you can manage with the faulty air conditioning. you’re about to shut your blinds when you catch familiar skin.

your pulse is tapping out a strange rhythm in your throat.

no. he couldn’t be, could he? but that definitely was—

you clap a hand over your mouth with a shiver. creep just close enough to the edge of your window to avoid being spotted without losing your vantage point.

arthur is splayed across the couch, one leg draped over the side while the other remains bent on the cushions. you can see how you’d nearly missed it—he looks strangely relaxed.

but you’ve committed that flush in his cheekbones to memory. the rapid rise and fall of his chest. his eyes are pinched shut, and you trace down the length of his body to where his hand works in languid strokes over his cock.

oh god.

this was wrong on so many levels. but you can’t help the way your thighs rub together, or the pulsating heat of your cunt.

you slide your hand away from your mouth, snaking it lower and lower till you’re pushing aside the gusset of your panties, paying no attention to the angle of your wrist. your fingers find you already wet, clit throbbing with assured interest.

a moan snakes its way out of you as you follow the pace of arthur’s hand. he’s still pumping lazily on the couch, but his hips have begun to undulate in slow circles, punctuated by the occasional jerk.

fuck, this was getting bad. but you follow his lead, stopping when he stops, exhaling when he exhales, and there comes a point when mirroring him is no longer a conscious effort. a lock of hair falls over his sweaty forehead and you nearly cry; you’d have been able to brush it aside in a heartbeat. it only reminds you of how long it’s been since you’ve been touched by someone else like this.

you reach a fever pitch when the two of you begin to increase the pace, and you have to brace a hand against your desk for support. your eyes haven’t left arthur once. wouldn’t leave even after you catch that scrunch of his crooked nose, the tightening of his fist. but your eyes flutter when his head tips back, and his mouth falls open (so wide you can almost hear him in your ears), and shit, you think you’ll be right there with him—

—until fingers snap in front of your face.

you open your eyes. turn your head.

"hey, you good? you're drooling."

[gemsofgreece]

Hi! What could be a good english version of The Iliad, like the most faithful translation of it? xx

Hello! I have read the Iliad only in the prototype and modern Greek renditions. So in order to answer this I started with a plain search on the web for the most famous English translations. I see Lattimore (1951) and Fagles (1990) being frequently recommended. I ended up finding however a fantastic post on Reddit by some good soul who decided to analyze in depth all the modern English translations. OP provides the first paragraph of most of these translations in order to back their commentary. As a result I was able to read them as well. So I will add the link to their post in the end of my answer but in the meantime I decided to also provide my own opinion alongside theirs. Granted, my evaluation is based only on the first paragraph but we know writers and translators strive for the best in the opening paragraph so hopefully my conclusions will be more or less safe. Let alone that the opening paragraph of the Iliad is famous, it’s the invocation of the Muse, so certainly the translators were trying their best. Please note I am only judging the translations for which OP provides the first paragraph.

Lattimore (1951)

Deviations counted: 3

Style: poetry

Other notes: A little difficult to read but there is something old-school about it I like. Despite its deviations, it tried to keep other elements most other translators failed to.

Reddit OP opinion: They did not like Lattimore, they think he’s overrated.

Fitzgerald (1974)

Deviations counted: 8

Style: poetry

Other notes: God forbid.

Reddit OP opinion: They like it but admit it’s not very faithful to Homer.

Hammond (1987)

Deviations counted: 3

Style: prose

Other notes: It sounds more humble than Lattimore’s pompous translation, however it is easy and readable without deviating much from the original.

Reddit OP opinion: We agree.

Fagles (1990)

Deviations counted: 7

Style: poetry

Other notes: Why is this one of the two most popular translations? If you have to pick one of the two all time classics, I definitely recommend Lattimore between the two. But my favourite so far remains Hammond.

Reddit OP opinion: They reject this for the same reasons as they did with Fitzgerald.

Murray & Wyatt (1999, latest revision, 1924, original)

Deviations counted: 7 (fewer in the original)

Style: prose

Other notes: OP provides the original version and some older revisions and they are significantly better than what you will likely find in stores now. The original is in an older style of English.

Reddit OP opinion: That was the point they were making: unnecessary revisions for the worse. They say the old version is out of copyright so maybe you can find that one.

Merrill (2007)

Deviations: 8

Style: poetry

Other notes: It’s poetic but not beautiful enough and certainly not very faithful to the original.

Reddit OP opinion: Somehow they seem to like the opening paragraph but then makes notes similar to mine regarding the rest of the poem - I’d argue it’s evident from the very beginning.

Kline (2009)

Deviations: 6 (7-1)

Style: prose

Other notes: I removed one penalty as a bonus for being the only one so far to translate the “for thus was the will of Zeus brought to fulfilment” line decently. Overall decent, the deviations aren’t too annoying.

Reddit OP opinion: They consider it average - not too good or too bad - and they say it is free to read online. Both they and I prefer Hammond still.

Verity (2010)

Deviations: 6

Style: prose pretending to be verse

Other notes: Interestingly, Verity deviates in easier lines and nails the ones nobody did.

Reddit OP opinion: They love this one.

McCrorie (2012)

Deviations: 5

Style: poetry

Other notes: He goes for an epic style and I do not dislike it. He uses unusual English versions of the characters names though (ie Akhilleus, Aides). I don’t mind but it could confuse you.

Reddit OP opinion: They say their rendition overall is inconsistent and claim some of their choices sound bad in English. I did not really find the examples they gave problematic or bad, but maybe it is because in Greek those sentences sound better and McCrorie was going for a Greek voice, which is why it did not feel jarring to me like to the OP. We disagree in this one. I still prefer Hammond though.

Green (2015)

Deviations: 4

Style: poetry

Other notes: It is pretty faithful but I can’t say I find anything impressive about it.

Reddit OP opinion: They love it.

Alexander (2015)

Deviations: 3

Style: poetry

Other notes: She gives a very loyal translation, however lacks a bit in style, it is a little plain for poetry.

Reddit OP opinion: They like it a lot.

Nurcombe (2020)

Deviations: 6

Style: poetry

Other notes: Nothing particular to remark.

Reddit OP opinion: They find it a loyal translation (which maybe it is, because the deviations are six yet not very significant) but think it’s lacking in its poetry. Maybe this is why I found it unremarkable.

Wilson (2023)

Deviations: 9

Style: poetry

Other notes: We Greeks have talked before about Wilson taking too many liberties and her translation of the first paragraph proves it once more. She adds stuff of her own in there.

Reddit OP opinion: They comment on the loose translation but overall like her style of poetry.

In conclusion, my opinion is:

If you want easy, very readable and accurate prose, pick Hammond.

If you want accuracy and one of the all time classics and don’t mind the occasionally challenging poetic read, pick Lattimore.

If your main concern is accuracy and can go for older, harder, more epic sounding prose, try to find the original Murray or at least one of the old revisions but skip the most recent ones.

If you don’t mind a hard poetic read, maybe even odd in English (as stated by the English reader) because it attempts to get close to the Greek poetic voice, even at a paradoxical occasional expense of word for word accuracy, give McCrorie a shot. I don’t know if this made any sense lol I mean that even when he is not extremely loyal word after word, there is a feel of attempted Greek voice throughout his text. In other words, if you want a wildcard, give it a shot. But it could be alienating to an English reader, I don’t know.

Having said all that, again, I could only judge from the first paragraph and some notes by the Reddit OP. I am adding now their in-depth analysis. OP’s favourite for fidelity and style was Green.

Of course, if someone here is fluent in Greek and well acquainted with the English translations, please help us out.

[nico-the-newt]

Dating Blaise Zabini would include...

Your first interaction being him asking you to the Yule Ball in fourth year

And at first you’re just kinda like “huh?” because you had never spoken to this kid in the four years you had been at school

But you somehow find yourself agreeing to go anyway

So you go to Hogsmeade with your friends and buy dress robes and a stupid pair of heels that you could barely walk in

The day of the ball you were shitting bricks and just wondering if you should pretend to be sick and then avoid Blaise for the rest of your schooling

And your friends are just like “fuck that - you are going to the ball and you will have fun”

And to your surprise - you did have fun

It was kinda weird at first, as the only other time you two had spoken was when he had asked you to the ball

But then you started actually having a conversation and it was as if something had clicked

(He had also sat out on the dancing with you when you twisted your ankle in the stupid heels, even though lots of people were inviting him to dance and he obviously itching to go)

It was a lovely night overall and you even shared a peck on the cheek at the end of the night but you didn’t show much interest in each other after that and basically went back to being strangers

That was until the following year when you joined the quidditch team and started reconnecting with him through that

So after a few months of chatting, flirting and training together he asked you on a date and you accepted

And the rest was history

You don’t really get along with each others friends

Your friends think he’s a bit of an arrogant dick and while you don’t deny that, you know how sweet he truly is when its only you two

And his friends are all the popular Slytherin kids so naturally they dislike you

Date nights on Saturdays which ranges from eating dinner on the astronomy tower to getting drunk and seeing how long you could play exploding snap in the library before getting kicked out (high score was half an hour)

Him not being a big PDA person

Not big on cuddles either but will still enjoy constantly touching and holding you (eg. Letting you lean into him or rest your head in his lap, holding your hand, running his fingers through you hair etc.)

Sneaking around for alone time

Its not as if you two don’t have anywhere to be horny idiots you both just get a thrill out of sneaking about

His mother inviting your family over for Christmas during your sixth year and you’re both nervous as fuck

Your parents being a bit iffy about your boyfriend and his mum purely because of the rumours about Mrs Zabini and her many husbands

Only Mrs Zabini is the loveliest person you’ve ever met in spite of her possibly being a murderer

Having a lot of arguments during the beginnings of your relationship because Blaise is bad at addressing his emotions and you’re too good at addressing yours which often ends up in a lot of miscommunications

Encouraging him to open up a bit more which leads to a bit more arguing

As you date for longer you both learn how to read each other a little easier which leads to less arguing

Breaking up during seventh year when you join DA

You both spend the year feeling even more depressed than you already were

Finding him after the fire in the room of requirement

Making up straight away and fighting side by side for the rest of the battle because you both realise that life is too short to not be with each other

And you also both know that theres a high chance of one of you dying

Vowing to never leave each other again after Voldemort is defeated

[dzvelinaskebiyars]

hii, I don't know if requests are open or closed so if they are closed feel free to just ignore this, but I wanted to request Manjiro sano with a reader who has ADHD if your up for writing it, and have a lovely day ฅ⁠^⁠•⁠ﻌ⁠•⁠^⁠ฅ

Yes they're open and thank you for requesting<333 People deal with ADHD differently and there might not be every symptom or be a symptom that some ppl with ADHD might not experience. I mostly wrote about problems/symptoms that I experience so I hope it's okey for you!

Okey when he'd first out, he'd be confused asf because he genuinely doesn't know what's ADHD so he'd question you about it if you're comfortable enough. I swear he doesn't mean bad if he'd question you, it's just he genuinely doesn't know and if it's serious, he can't help you if he doesn't know, right?

He'd still search up about it in Google to get detailed explanation with its symptoms, causes and treatment.

He'd be very understanding about it, he'd try to be understanding and supportive. Tho he's not exactly the greatest when it comes to dealing with mental health issues, he'd try his best with you.

Usually, if somebody were to interrupt him mid-sentences then he'd be very annoyed but, again, he'll be understanding with you. If you'd interrupt him, he'd just go silent and start listening to you.

He'll tell you it's okey if you'll be guilty about interrupting him. He knows you aren't doing it because you're rude, so don't worry, he completely understands you.

Many people with adhd tend to have little or no sense of danger so he's here to protect you and help you out!

Honestly, he also misplaces and forgets where he puts his stuff sometimes, that's why he has Emma. He wouldn't be much of a help with things like that but he would search with you.

He doesn't have a problem with repeating what he said and wouldn't make you feel stupid or deaf just because you couldn't catch his words. (I need him irl)

Of course he'd be frustrated sometimes, like when you'd interrupt him a lot, or maybe when you're speaking and jumping from topic to topic. I mean, he's also human and ofc he'd be frustrated at some things but he'd try his best to don't show it.

If he accidentally were to make you feel like a burden or something, he'd genuinely be so guilty and would try to make up with you. He'd be guilty because he has no right to be frustrated with you for something you can't control, and he knows that it's a lot harder for you to deal with yourself than it is for him.

When you're hyperactive and like can't sit still, especially in quiet surroundings, he'd take you somewhere else, somewhere where you can be hyperactive freely.

He has noticed many times how you zone out of conversations and before he'd know that zoning out was one of the symptom of ADHD, he'd thought that you disliked when he was talking about something. He realised how stupid he was for thinking like that after learning more about the disorder. He genuinely doesn't know what to do when you zone out tho, like is it okey if he'll snap your out of it or should he just wait until you'll snap out of it on your own? He genuinely doesn't know which one is better option so he ends up going quiet.

He'd be overprotective of you ngl, since as I said, you have little or no sense of danger and he'd never forgive himself if you ever get hurt because of his lack of attention. He'd be quick to blame himself if that happens.

I swear he'd gladly beat someone up if they point out symptoms. Like if someone said "Didn't I already give you instructions?! How many times do I have to repeat myself?!" he'd genuinely be annoyed by that person and would immediately jump in the conversation and say "just repeat one more time. It's not that hard." and etc.

He'd be soo happy when he'll see the progress, even if it's small thing such as zoning out less, being able to focus easier or not forgetting things that you usually do. He'd genuinely be so happy!