#complete with more words and thoughts than literally anyone wants myself included

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

[fatuismooches]

principiis amoris.

synopsis: In other words, five times Dottore swore he hated you and the one time he realized it was the opposite.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: I wanted to try my hand at these 5+1 fics, and Dottore seemed to be the best candidate. Behold, 6k+ words of fluff. Reader and Dottore are complete menaces (and not very good people) and you also throw a book at someone.

I. blindness

Much to anyone’s surprise, Zandik was having what he would call a good day. Today was the last day of all of his especially boring and easy classes, the illegal parts he secretly ordered came in, and he would be able to stay in his dorm for a while before classes started again. A break from these all these so-called scholars would be much appreciated. He was growing rather tired of them and was greatly looking forward to the much-needed retreat of progressing his research. He could feel it already - the sweet sensation of tinkering with the new parts quickened his pace.

What he was not expecting was his door to be open, voices and rustling noises coming from inside. Immediately a frown appeared and his good feeling was lost. Quickly, he entered the room and saw an unknown figure donning the Akademiya’s robes, and an academic counselor he recognized standing in his room. Now he was glad he made sure to put his tools away. Ones that were totally not prohibited.

“What is the meaning of this?” He didn’t try to hide the loathing in his voice.

The counselor shifted in place, clearly not wanting to be here anymore due to his presence. You, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care. In fact, Zandik could see that you were smiling.

“Ah, hello Zandik. Good to see you are doing well,” she lied through her teeth. “This here is [Name], your-”

“Your new roommate!” you chimed in. The counselor shrunk in her place even more, probably regretting all her life choices now as Zandik’s laser gaze was on her now. 

“I thought I made myself clear when I informed you that I did not want anyone in my dorm?”

“Yes, well, as per the rules of the Akademiya, every scholar should try to have a roommate for the purpose of cooperation…” Her voice became progressively smaller as Zandik continued to burn his gaze onto her, “a-and collaboration. Regardless of your thoughts, [Name] has to try to dorm with someone, and that someone happens to be you.” You nodded your head in agreement as the counselor spoke.

“So please, um, try to get along!” She quickly excused herself and scurried out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. You smiled at him yet again, sticking your hand out for a handshake, to which he only spared a glance and turned away.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m excited to live with you!”

“We’ll see about that,” he scoffed. You’d be out of here in less than a week, just like the few other roommates he had. But to think he had to spend his break with a nuisance in his room now? That irritated him to no end. Though what confused him more was your sunny disposition. Quite literally everyone in the Akademiya knew him and acted the complete opposite.

“Hehe, sure. By the way, I call the top bunk bed!”

It was from that moment he knew.

Zandik hated you.

II. relentless

Zandik had been giving you the cold shoulder since the moment you stepped into his (now yours too) dorm. You knew this would be a tough journey, but damn. At least he was good eye candy and wasn’t loud. (If you excused his eerie laughter in the middle of the night.)

On this particular night, Zandik was at his makeshift workbench tinkering with Archon knows what, as usual. Unfortunately, even though you found it to be interesting, you were unfamiliar with all of that mechanical stuff. You always would look at him while he worked, and while he would sometimes snap at you to stop staring, he never actually did anything about it. Today was one of those nights.

“You’ve certainly been at that for a while,” you commented. Zandik showed no sign of reaction.

“You don’t want anything to eat? Or drink?” you continued.

“Don’t have time,” he responded with no hesitation, far too interested in his new play toys, and also wanting to shut down this conversation immediately. But, you didn’t think these were the ones he usually used. You think he kept the deadlier ones hidden away in case you reported him or something.

“To consume something?”

“To make something right now,” he corrected.

“Well, yeah, I know. That’s why I’m going to make it for you,” you clarified, kind of surprised (but also not) that you needed to say it directly. This managed to make your roommate pause.

“So you are offering to cook for me?” he clarified your statement yet again.

“Yes?” This time he freed his hand of items completely and looked you dead in the eye.

“Explain.”

“E-Explain? Well, I mean, we’re roommates and all, habiting the same space. It only makes sense that we do things we each other once in a while.”

“So you expect a transaction.”

“A transaction…? Huh? No! This isn’t some kind of business deal or whatever. No, I do not expect anything back from you. I am doing this for you because I want to. There’s nothing more to it.” There was no response from Zandik, and he was silent as if he was trying to process what you just said, which was rather cute.

“I do not understand.”

You mentally sighed. “That’s fine, for now. I’m gonna whip something up anyway.” Before he could protest further, you disappeared into the tiny kitchen the Akademiya’s dorms provided.

You had to think of a suitable snack. He probably wouldn’t eat it if it was too cumbersome and distracting from whatever he was doing. He needed some kind of finger food… and you had just the idea. You believed that when you were a struggling Akademiya student, it was only natural to have some good recipes up your sleeve.

Samosas. Delicious bite-sized pieces of goodness. Although they would take a bit to make, you didn’t think Zandik would care. He hardly realized the difference between minutes and hours when he was in this kind of scientific state. And you were glad you stocked up the pantry with your own products because you really had no idea how Zandik lived in these conditions.

Soon enough, you had made a portion for him (and secretly snuck a few for yourself) and you had also made a piping hot cup of coffee, a student’s best friend of course. You then plated it and brought it to your roommate, setting it down in front of him wordlessly, to which he seemed surprised.

Zandik did not realize you were even still doing that. He thought you were bluffing. But now that such aromatic food was right in front of him, his stomach came to life and he noticed the dryness of his throat. With squinted eyes, he tentatively picked up one of the samosas and inspected it. (Did he think you poisoned it or something?) But then he popped one into his mouth and began to chew experimentally. His face did not betray his emotions, but your questions were answered by his next actions.

“Hmm,” he said matter-of-factly, before nomming on another samosa. You peered at him from the top bunk bed as he polished off the bowl of samosas rather quickly. Now, he was waiting for the coffee to cool.

“Sooooo, how was my cooking?” you questioned, already internally knowing the answer even if he didn’t admit it.

“It was convenient,” he admitted. Most of the time, Zandik did not cook for himself, as he found the process a waste of time when he could be doing other things. 

“I’m glad. And the taste?”

“It was fine.” Actually, it was far more than fine. The constant consumption of the easiest food to make had dulled his taste buds and made him accustomed to bland food. Though your food was quite tasty, Zandik was not about to let you get a big head now.

“Just fine? Seemed like you scarfed them down pretty quickly,�� you teased.

“The quicker I eat, the quicker I am able to devote my full attention to the research,” he corrected you. You pouted but still felt pleased.

“Then I’ll make something for you every day.”

He felt on guard again at your kindness. “Why?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t I already say? ‘Cause we’re roommates and all, and also soon-to-be friends. And friends usually help each other out, yeah? And also because I’m kind of worried how you eat the same thing over and over.” 

He immediately frowned at your proposal. “I am not your friend. And never will be.”

You shrugged your shoulders and moved to lie down instead, pulling the blankets over you. “Ehe, we’ll see. I have a way with words, you know!” You smiled and winked at him, to which you received a deadpan glare. “Good night, Zandik! Oh, and make sure to clean up afterward!”

“Hmph.”

Friend. He toyed with the word and idea in his head, mocking it internally. Friend… friend, as if that could ever be feasible. Of course not.

Zandik hated you.

III. possessiveness 

It had been a while since you moved in with Zandik, and he stopped treating you with disdain. Though, Zandik was Zandik, so you still got a tongue-lashing from time to time. (But you could never take him seriously anymore, which irritated him.)

Lately, though, he had begun to show you some of his research, and even begun to let you tinker with some of his stuff! Only while he was present of course, but you were elated. Though, he seemed to be enjoying this more than you somehow. You could ask one question and suddenly he’d be on a tangent. But you were just happy he was talking to you.

You had been upgraded from hated stranger to tolerable stranger to okay acquaintance in Zandik’s eyes. You had insisted on calling him your friend, to which he still did not understand, but for some reason he allowed it. Perhaps it was because it felt nice.

Actually, you were a helpful, okay acquaintance. You frequently looked over his notes for him, correcting spelling and grammar errors from when he scribbled so fast. Tidied up his bed and work space too. The best part was that you had begun to run errands for him so he didn’t need to leave the dorm himself. After these series of events, you had declared yourself his assistant without even asking him first, but he supposed that was okay. He valued usefulness. And maybe your company a bit, too. And although he enjoyed silence the most, maybe he liked how nice your voice was in the background.

Today was one of those days where he waited for you to get back from an errand. It was quick and easy, and the seller wasn’t too far away. Like always, he occupied himself with his work and awaited your return, which proved to be fruitful as usual. But after a while, something did not feel right.

Zandik could not put his finger on it. Why did he have this feeling in the back of his mind? He was quite irritated at this itch he could not reach. Perhaps you would have-

That’s right. You. You. You. Where were you? That’s when he realized that you were gone longer than you usually were. To think that his body and mind would get so accustomed to your presence. He wasn’t sure whether to feel disgusted or not by this feeling.

He wondered what was the holdup. But there was naught he could do except wait. And wait. And wait. Until the jiggle of the doorknob drew his attention and you stepped through the door with the items he requested. 

“Hey, Zandik,” you greeted, locking the door behind you and dropping the bag on the table. He didn’t respond, but you didn’t think that was anything strange since he never cared much for greetings. “Got your stuff,” you continued your normal routine, kicking off your shoes and shedding your sweater, expecting the silence to continue.

“What took you so long?” You almost did a double-take when he spoke.

“What?”

“What took you so long?” he repeated.

“Oh, on the way back, some students stopped me and asked if I could explain some stuff to them. I guess I did take a bit longer than usual. Why?” you questioned. Did he really notice the difference? It hadn’t even been that long, maybe ten to fifteen minutes extra that you took. And plus, it’s not like you two were doing anything together. Just sitting in silence with metal clanking as usual.

When you did not get any response, you raised your eyebrows and tip-toed your way over to him to get a glimpse of his expression. It was mostly empty if you ignored the eye twitching and the downward curve. You had to dig your fingernails into your palm to control the chuckles. 

“Could it be… did you miss little old me, Zandik?”

“Perish the thought,” Zandik immediately interrupted before you could even finish your sentence. “Your whereabouts are not my concern,” he vehemently denied.

“Mhm, alright then.”

“I simply do not see why you need to talk to those so-called scholars. They are not worth the time or energy to even look at.”

Ah, there it was. So he was jealous. You understood now.

“Well, I was just doing what a normal, nice person would do.”

“The fact that you are still living with me proves you’re not normal. As for the nice part, you don’t need to do that for anyone.”

“Oh really? So what should I do, turn a blind eye to everyone else and save the sweet words for you?” you joked.

“Yes. Were you not the one who declared yourself as my assistant? Assistants always follow their seniors,” he stated matter-of-factly.

You were completely surprised at his mini confession, that if you spoke carelessly, you knew you’d stutter. But you weren’t complaining. You ignored the heat on your face, and matched his words.

“Hmm… I would say in that case, you can’t speak to anyone either, but it’s not like you do that anyway,” you said simply, biting down on your lip to prevent laughing. Zandik immediately scowled at your statement.

“I don’t need, want, or care to speak to anyone. But since you clearly need to be around these low-tier scholars, you can get out this instant.” You couldn’t help but double over with giggles now at his defensiveness and landed on Zandik’s bed. He huffed. You loved when he acted like this.

“Ah, I’m so glad I asked to dorm with you,” you giggled with a dopey grin. Zandik paused his work, taking in what you just said.

“You… what?”

You turned to lay on your side and propped yourself up on your arm. “Hmm? Did I say something strange?” you questioned.

“You chose to live here? With me, of your own choice? I knew it was strange when the counselor chose me of all people. Surely there were others available?” Zandik was utterly baffled as he had now temporarily abandoned his tinkering to gauge your expression.

“Yes! Shall I recount the exact events for you?” Without waiting for an answer, you prattled on. “Okay so, I went to the counselor lady and she wanted me to dorm with this random guy, and I was like okay cool, but then I got this little sneak peek of the list she had and I saw your name in fancy handwriting. And then I was like, hey, that’s the smart cute morally dubious guy that I hear people talking about! So then I said, nah, give Zandik to me instead please- hey, why is your face kind of red?” 

You ended your little rambling and sat up straight, leaning into your roommate’s face. “Hey, are you embar-” Before you could finish your sentence, he quickly spun back around to face his desk, trying to block out your incessant giggling.

“Shut up,” he hissed in reply, quick to defend himself. “No one in this school would willingly live with me.” And how dare you call him that? That… c-word.

“Well,” you clutched your chest to prevent any more laughter, “That’s clearly not true anymore, because I’ve been here for quite a while! But wow, your face!” You toppled back onto his bed grinning. He swore you were brain-dead. 

Zandik hated you.

IV. like-mindedness

Zandik did not like being in public. That was something you came to realize and understand rather quickly. For the most part, you had no qualms with it. You were quite content with bantering with him in the privacy of the dorm or in the desert or forest looking for whatever specimens he wanted. There were no distractions, no other people to give you weird stares or looks.

It was another normal day for you, and you came to realize that you’d actually been living with Zandik for quite a while. You liked to think that you two were rather close now. The time had flown by quickly for you, but apparently very long for others. To say people were baffled was an understatement. 

People were shocked, fascinated, intrigued, fearful, any word you could think of, at how you managed to dorm with Zandik and still be alive, mentally and physically. Many people even applauded you for managing to live with Zandik for so long. You had people coming up to you asking for tips on how you confronted your fears so easily. The crazier ones even wanted to write a paper on your mental fortitude. (Thankfully your roommate hadn’t found out about that yet.)

Today, however, the two of you decided to stop by Puspa Café after class. It was a nice day to dine outside, and the coffee and food there was excellent. You had no complaints, especially since this was your first time doing this kind of thing with Zandik. It was going quite well, as the two of you read over your notes in silence until whispers began to penetrate the tranquility.

“Hey, look over there. Is that Zandik?”

“Oh wow, you’re right! This is my first time seeing him outside of class.”

“Really? This is my first time seeing him in general.”

“Well yeah, he only goes to class and then back to his dorm. Everyone knows he’s a freak.” Their blathering continued and you twitched your eye, unable to concentrate. You peaked at Zandik but he looked unbothered.

“We’re right in front of them and can still talk about you like that?” You were simultaneously shocked and impressed at their audacity and stupidity. Zandik simply shrugged his shoulders, his uncaring attitude shining through as he was practically immune to these kinds of scenarios now. You huffed and flipped a page in your book. Sometimes you wished you could borrow some of his ability to not care what people think.

But there was only so much you could take. And Archons above, these scholars and their incessant talking were annoying. You had no idea how Zandik could continue to read so intently with this racket. At least he was more pretty when he was quiet.

Slowly you stood up, and Zandik glanced at you, a bit confused but not too interested, still absorbed in his own book. His eyes returned to the text, but then he heard a loud thump from the side. Now more of his attention was on you, as he saw you now closed the thick book shut.

“[Name]?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow. You were now retrieving some Mora, probably for the bill, and laying it on the table. “Do you have business to attend to?”

“Business? You know what, yes, yes I do,” you chuckled a bit eerily. “But it’ll only take a couple of seconds.” With that, you picked up the textbook and lifted it up and down like a weight. Finally, you positioned yourself properly and raised your arm toward the direction of the student.

You threw the fucking textbook.

It was a sight that Zandik would never forget. A heavy book that would hurt anyone’s arm from lugging it around, flew through the air, and with uncanny precision, knocked the scholar right in the face.

It was dead silence for a few seconds.

And then chaos.

Screams erupted from the other students at the table at the sight of their fallen friend. A commotion was born as people scrambled to the boy. Zandik was having a bit of trouble comprehending what just happened. Yes, he just understood that you just threw a textbook at a guy, but he did not understand at the same time. Even he knew not to harm someone in public. (Private was a different case.) And you did it with no hesitation, no logical thought process of what would happen. It was an activity far from what most scholars did.

While he was in a little stupor, you quickly pushed your papers into your bag and slung it over your shoulder. “Hey! Teyvat to Zandik! Don’t just sit there! We have to leave the scene!” you scolded him, taking initiative and stuffing his work into his bag as well. He wasn’t the most pleased with how you treated his precious research material but that was only a fleeting thought compared to what just occurred. You threw his bag over your shoulder as well and cursed at how heavy his damn textbook was. But what he did not expect was what you did next.

Rolling your shoulders back to prepare yourself for the weight, you then grabbed his hand and started pulling him away. 

Zandik then had no words to describe his emotions. He could only focus on the prickles that arose from all over his body at such prolonged and close contact with you. He was used to your teasing - running your hands through his hair on occasion, or leaning in close to his ear to whisper something, but this simply broke his scale. He felt as though he was moving unconsciously, feet moving in sync with yours, and he had no idea how to feel or even understand this phenomenon. 

“Hey, I know you can walk faster than that!” Your voice snapped him out of his unfamiliar sensations, and that’s when he realized what was happening. You had actually managed to drag him so far along that you were both probably halfway through the city looking like complete, bumbling fools. And you were still holding his hand, and that’s when he realized again how lovely you looked in this moment. He quickly discarded those thoughts.

“Release me this instant, [Name],” he threatened, immediately putting his vexed look back up. He could feel your warmth penetrating his whole body just from your hand.

“Sure, sure~! Let’s turn into this alley to hide,” He could tell that was a complete lie because your laugh was so loud it probably rang out all the way to Port Ormos. Zandik scoffed and bit his lip to prevent a smile.

Soon enough, you both reached a secluded part of the city, away from all the hustle and bustle and caught your breath. You slid down a wall in relief and closed your eyes while Zandik had his eyes trained on you for what you just put him through.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” he raised an eyebrow at your crazy behavior. You peeked at him and put your hand on your chin, in a thinking position.

“Hmm… well, that was quite fun, was it not?!” you tried to keep a straight face but you could not help but laugh at your friend’s incredulous expression.

“You- we, we are going to get in trouble with the dean you know. And the counselors,” he said, trying to bite down the smile that kept rising when he remembered the expression on the assaulted student’s face.

“We’ll be fineeeee,” you shrugged your shoulders and stretched your letters. “Haven’t you gotten into more trouble with the head administration with your little controversial experiments? Besides, if we’re lucky, he’ll be too scared to report the incident,” you laughed, completely nonchalant about what you just did.

“Hmph. The blame is on you if anything happens,” he attempted to speak in an irritated voice, but he could not help but be amused. A bit elated, even. There were many people he wanted to see get chucked with a textbook. And do worse things too.

But a bit of the thrill came from how you did that with no hesitation. It was a… strange feeling to have someone do that for him. Actually, this whole relationship was strange. You were strange. Even he felt strange. He was honestly a straight-up asshole to you sometimes, like he was to everyone else. But that didn’t drive you off. You still did things for him. You still spoke to him. You didn’t want anything in return, not money, not knowledge, not relics, but perhaps what you did want was-

Zandik stopped that line of thoughts in its tracks, trying to ignore how his hand was all tingly from you holding it. Things were fine this way, he declared. He could not admit he was enamored with you. Nothing needed to change. He had to maintain his view of you, otherwise… 

“You know, I’m surprised I even got you to do that. Did you hit your head too?”

“Shut up.”

Zandik hated you.

(You two did get into trouble. The Akademiya assigned you an apology essay which Zandik refused to do so you had to write two separate essays for each of you. With some begging, he did your homework for you in return, and somehow managed to get the blood stain off of that textbook you had thrown. You didn’t question where he learned that.)

V. kindness

It had been years since that fateful day, the time when you first moved in with Zandik. The Akademiya was a long and arduous grind, but that was to be expected. Your friendship with Zandik was one you cherished more than most things.

To say the two of you were close was an understatement. You still remember the counselor’s expression when you told her how well the two of you were getting along, and that there was no need for you to ever switch roommates. You think she became afraid of you too after that.

Tonight was a relaxed night. Zandik and you were not doing any work, simply laying side by side on his bed. (Even though he always threw fierce words at you, you knew he liked your touch.)

In the beginning, you would never be able to tear him away from that desk, but with time comes new things. You were just happy he was getting more hours of sleep.

The two of you lied in the dark as usual, simply enjoying the cool Sumeru breeze and the muffled noises from the city. You learned to grow content with these simple moments. But tonight you felt like talking.

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hm?”

“Remember when you met me?” You could feel his head shift to look at you, probably for asking such a dumb question.

“Yes, I do. Too well, actually.”

“What was your first impression of me?” you questioned, realizing you never actually asked him that.

“That you were quite annoying and a thorn in my side.”

Anyone else might have been hurt by these words, but you did not mind. He made it pretty obvious that was how he felt in the beginning anyway, so it was no surprise. “But what about now?”

“You’re fine.” Even in the dark, he could feel your pout and pleading eyes. “And your intelligence and helpfulness deserve to be praised, I suppose.” And then he could feel your smile grow as your face was partially on his shoulder. From then the conversation flowed through many things. That research paper you two were working on, some kind of experiment he wanted to do on you (he swore it was painless), about that one scholar who was always annoying during the lectures.

The more you spoke, the more you realized how much of your life centered around being with Zandik here. You didn’t know if you ever wanted to graduate. To ever be apart from him.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. How long do you think we’ll live here?”

“Hmm, it’s hard to say. The benefits the Akademiya provides are far too good to let go of now. Speaking of that, there’s somewhere I want to visit.” 

“Oh, you mean those hidden ruins you think are connected with Khaenri’ah?” How nice it would be if you could just drape your arm over his chest.

“Yes. Though I don’t know if the Akademiya will let me make another trip back to the desert as of right now,” he pondered.

“Are you referring to how you’ve been on the Matra’s watch list for years? So they started following you everywhere?” you giggled.

“Not just me. You too, [Name],” he rolled his eyes. “At least I never threw a book at someone in public.” You pouted and playfully punched his arm.

“C’mon, that was so long ago! You can stop bringing it up!” you whined. He would never let that go, huh? The conversation died down from there, but it was a comfortable silence, which you loved. After that little banter, your eyes began to droop and you yawned. Zandik glanced at you.

“Tired?” You nodded and blearily rubbed your eyes.

“Sleep, then,” he commanded, and you had no qualms with following that. Soon enough, Zandik was the only one left awake, staring out at the open window. He had found these little resting sessions of yours good for clearing his mind. He closed his eyes too. 

Two people, on the same tiny, college-sized bed, arms brushing each other and talking nonchalantly. Totally, two good friends.

Friends. Friends, friends, friends. Long ago, the word left a distasteful feeling in his mouth, and it still did, but not for the reason he originally felt. Now, what he desired was more complicated.

Zandik hated you.

VI. endless

Zandik knew he would be expelled from the Akademiya soon, for the crimes he committed. And yet, instead of preparing for any future plans, he found himself following the directions of a note you left on his workbench. Meet me at our usual spot, 8 PM.

He was a busy man, more so in soon-to-be exile. He didn’t have time for your frivolous games. But for some reason, he found himself heading over to the cliff anyway. It was dark outside, but the stars illuminated your figure, and that was when he noticed the basket next to you as well. You noticed him and sat up eagerly.

“Hey, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come, to be honest.”

“...What is this?”

“Eh? A picnic, of course. The weather is real perfect for one.”

He was so astonished that the laugh building in his throat could not come out immediately. Surely you were aware of what he had done? Practically everyone in the Akademiya knew. You couldn’t walk for five minutes without hearing rumors floating around. Or perhaps you were that oblivious?

“Oh really?” His familiar, eerie laugh that you loved finally rang out. “Did a Ruin Guard finally toss you around well enough? Only an idiot wouldn’t know what I’ve-”

“I mean, do killers not like picnics anymore?” You replied so nonchalantly, he was actually a bit shocked. 

“You’re… you’re frustrating,” he murmured.

The way you managed to make him so tongue-tied all the time made him itch to put you in your place, to snap back somehow, but he found himself unable to lately. Actually, he struggled to do that for a while now, and he despised how you made him feel like a bumbling fool.

“Heh, perhaps some of your unhingedness rubbed off on me,” you shrugged, patting down the spot next to you. “Look, I made samosas for you again.”

The blanket was soft and comfy, and though he didn’t care much for the flavors of food, he did enjoy your cooking. You continued to polish off your meal before you spoke again.

“So, I hear you’re going to be expelled soon.”

“Correct. Though I care little for this place, it’s a shame to lose a suitable environment for my research.”

“Have you decided where you’re going? I’m sure you’re not planning to stay exiled in the desert for the rest of your life,” you hummed. “Leaving this country, perhaps?”

“That seems to be the most logical action. There is nowhere in this nation that would fund my research.”

“I see. You’re going far away from here.” Zandik nodded in reply, but the more he thought about it, the more irritated he felt. Far away from here meant far away from you.

To think he felt no remorse for murder but he felt a tingle of emotion (sadness? regret? anger?) at no longer being with you. Whatever it was, it left a bitter taste in his mouth. He loathed to admit it, but he enjoyed your company. He enjoyed dragging you out of bed in the morning, and he enjoyed you dragging him to bed at night. He enjoyed your bantering, your inquisitive nature towards his work. He enjoyed being the only person you’d treat like this and having one person to himself. Zandik enjoyed you, thoroughly and fully.

“Well, keep me updated. I already got my bags packed and ready to go.” 

“What?” A quirk of yours, he realized, was being able to leave him surprised at the most unpredictable times. Although scholars must plan for every possibility, he found it difficult to prepare for yours.

“I’m coming with you, of course. You’re gonna need your number one assistant with you. Hey, why’d you stop eating? We still need to get through the Padisarah Pudding.”

“You? Accompany me?” All of a sudden, everything made perfect sense. Yes, of course! You were right, he thought, as a fit of laughter overcame him. It was a splendid idea, one that pleased him immensely. Having you with him would be a great asset for his research. No one suited the role better than you. And you, in general, were… nice. You didn’t grate on his nerves like everyone else.

“Ha! Good! Amazing, even! I shall be sure to tell you when we depart from this nation of fools.” You raised your eyebrows at his sudden enthusiasm, but witnessing Zandik’s bursts of inspiration was nothing new to you either. 

“Well, glad to see you’re so keen on it,” you chuckled. “But I have a request. Actually, it’s more like something I have to say to you before we embark on this. It’s crucial, really.”

“Oh? Do tell.” He wasn’t rich, but he had the ability to procure a wide variety of items. The Nation of Wisdom was more corrupt than one would think. But he did wonder what you would ever want. You didn’t chase after material goods like the majority of humans.

“To be frank, I like you,” you declared, looking right into his eyes. At that moment, it felt like the world had gone silent. The wind stopped blowing, the animals lied low, the grass no longer rustled. “I like you. I want to be more than just friends with you,” you stated bluntly. You felt that getting straight to the point was the best course of action with Zandik, since many things besides his research and manipulating people tended to go over his head.

“So, what do you say?”

There was no response. You attempted to build your case.

“By the way, did you think I’d go through all this trouble if I didn’t want to be with you? I didn’t dorm with you for no reason, you know.”

“...”

“For such a smart guy, you aren’t very good at this, are you? Well, I can’t be too mad. I’ve been dealing with the denseness for a few years now. You know, I’ve been making the first moves this whole time.”

“...” 

The lack of response was beginning to make you nervous. You preferred the maniacal laughter of rejection at this point. “H-hey, I’d like a reply, you know. You don’t need to accept-”

Zandik thought. And he found that the words he spoke next were genuine.

“I find you… agreeable as well.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh, shoulders now relaxed. “Why, such an amazing compliment from the high and mighty Zandik has me even more lovestruck!” He wanted to be mad, he really did, but it was at this moment he understood what it meant to be mesmerized by another person. He had found himself mesmerized by ancient machines, ruins, texts, his research. But he truly found you beautiful, your giggles echoing through the night.

“I’m agreeable, yes?” You turned to face him, your body leaning in closer to his. “Am I agreeable enough to do… this?” You tentatively glided your fingers over his hand, gauging to see how far Zandik would let you go. He stiffened at the foreign contact, clearly unused to it, but let you continue.

“What about this?” You slid your hand up and down his arm, keeping your eyes on his face the whole time. He tried not to show any emotions, besides a half-hearted scowl, but you could still see the red tips of his ears. He was so cute.

You scooted closer to him and let your other hand rest on Zandik’s thigh. “I think I’m much more than agreeable in your books,” you teased, cupping his cheek. He scoffed in response but did nothing to refuse your advancement. You leaned in and connected your lips with your lover’s. It felt damn good. Zandik had no idea what he was doing, but it was endearing nonetheless. You kissed him again, and again, and he reciprocated, albeit a little awkwardly. Your heart soared as you pulled away, and placed a few final kisses on his cheeks.

“Now, how did that feel?” You already knew the answer to that, of course. You knew Zandik for a long time, and could tell when he was in a shitty mood, a bad mood, a grumpy one, an excited one, a happy one, and much more. This mood was one you haven’t seen until now, but it sure was a good one. Completely flustered was a great look on him.

“I… I cannot come to a definitive answer as of now. I would say that I need to carry out some more experiments to reach a conclusion.”

“Oh? Then I’m a willing participant for however long as you want,” you smiled, finding comfort in his soft, teal locks. 

And that’s when Zandik truly realized. You were more tolerable than the rest. You were bearable enough to want to keep you around forever. Smart enough for him to desire to hear your honeyed voice. Soft enough to want to feel your skin against his. Ah, he would never say it though, as he brushed his lips over yours once again.

Zandik loved you.

[ilikekidsshows]

Gosh, I just remembered Destruction. That Marinette seriously let Cat Noir run around with the word Dimwit in his bell for all of season 4, never once spared it a single thought, never apologized for it either despite allegedly having "realized" how awfully she treated him, and then smiled proudly when Alya laughed over him behind his back after the Cataclysm incident Marinette just abandoned Cat Noir afterwards too and only cared about herself getting support.

Dude, Marinette is so awful to him at times. Who DOES that to a friend? I would be downright ashamed of myself if I treated a friend like that and the show's telling me to CELEBRATE her for that??

Let's not forget that she also didn't think for months that Cat needs to know beforehand that her secret plan includes him having to run the risk of cataclysming Hawkmoth, or that he's once again reduced to a literal object in her plan who can't even breath with the villain's hand at his throat because all she deemed important was HERSELF being fine and safe and getting the Kwamis back.

Sure, just demand that of him on a whim. It's fine, girl, as long as it isn't you, right?

She also put every single civilian at Hawkmoth’s mercy in her plan, apparently just counties on him to be decent to the helpless civilians in his path who are even BOTHERING HIM with photos for her plan to work. That makes her such an awful hero. Humanity really was non existent in her plan, huh? Only she herself and the Kwamis mattered and she even monologued that into a full-blown failure. Not even getting a single Kwami because she had to brag about how much smarter and better she is than him. Such heroism. Much inspirational.

I seriously forgot how awful Destruction was for Marinette’s character. What the shit was that??

---

The group chat and I have been thinking that Marinette really is the least heroic “superhero” we’ve seen that wasn't a purposeful attempt at deconstructing superheroes. She very rarely goes out of her way to help people except when it's her way of forcing her views on what people need on others (think Guilt Trip), and a lot of the time she only fights Akumas and Sentimonsters because they're getting in the way of her plans for the day.

Marinette is only a hero technically, because, technically, he does stop the bad guys from getting what they want. But she also does the bare minimum needed. She magicked together a charm to try to prevent Akumatizations four seasons in, and it was basically because Alya told her to. She is also completely disinterested in finding out who Hawk Moth is. Félix spelled it out for her and she couldn't be arsed to do anything about it. The only time she's confronted Gabriel about anything was when she wanted to get his permission to date Adrien. I repeat: the only reason Marinette ever “goes after” Gabriel is to get his permission to date Adrien. The finale confrontation was an accident on her part. Marinette's motives are so often about herself over everything else. It's not just that there's a benefit to her in helping others, it's that she actually thinks about herself first in every single situation and anyone else is barely ever a consideration.

Marinette is the most passive hero I’ve seen. Even early series Usagi from Sailor Moon, who cried at the thought of fighting monsters, actively followed rumors around town to uncover the villains’ schemes and more often than not got involved in the plot of the episode because she met a random stranger she wanted to help when they explained their problems to her and/or asked for her assistance with something. Marinette has helped a random stranger only once, despite her supposedly having this trait being why Fu chose her in Origins.

She really has no idea what a hero is, considering her idea for doing a heroic act to celebrate “heroes’ day” was promising her parents would make a bunch of treats for her classmates instead of herself doing anything to help anyone. She only ended up making the treats herself because her parents didn't have the time, and even then, the classmates also pitched in to make her idea/heroic act happen. Despite Hawk Moth being a consistent threat, she's not proactive in trying to stop him, only patrolling for personal reasons, like keeping the principal from making “real heroes” (her words, not mine) look bad and going on “not dates” with Cat Noir.

She also far more frequently uses her powers for personal gain than any other character that gets a Miraculous, even when taking their time using one into account. Marinette uses her powers to sabotage people who have a crush on the guy she likes, embarrass people she doesn't like and manufacture situations where she can get closer to her crush. Meanwhile Adrien and Alya *flips through notes* genuinely enjoy being a hero and helping people, so much so they joke on the job. And people tell me the latter two are less heroic, because of some twisted idea that real heroes are the ones for whom the job is a burden. In actuality, Marinette viewing her heroics as such a burden makes her unmotivated and a worse hero for it. Her disregard towards civilians and her allies when she actually bothers to do the job is just another sign of how utterly unsuited to be a hero Marinette is.

Frankly, if Marinette’s hijinks didn't stop the Akumas and Sentimonsters, she'd be a villain protagonist. Because of the retooled show enforcing Marinette’s unheroic traits, her lack of motivation, her lack of sympathy for others, her selfishness and her self-aggrandizing, I personally feel that she still is a villain protagonist but the show just celebrates her instead of condemning her.

[ko-existing]

https://www.tumblr.com/infiniteko/740550010507280384/these-non-dualists-seems-to-be-so-bitter-and-for

completely agree with you!

this is why it always makes me laugh when people accuse others of “acting from ego” simply because they critiqued someone or said anything remotely ‘negative’?? ego is just a thought (unreal). it is just this illusory sense of “me, mine”, this sense of being an individual body-mind… so if that’s the case, ‘we’ are technically all “acting from ego”. we all appear to have different livelihoods, interests, preferences, hobbies, relationships, etc…

for as long as you (THAT) choose to express yourself as a person, why not make it fun!!😋 you (THAT) created 7 billion people so you can entertain yourself with disagreements and debates and difference of opinion. the beauty of it is that, ultimately, it is still all just THAT.

no one who truly knows that every thing is all the same “ ” wishes genuine harm or unhappiness on another person. everyone i have met who follows this ‘way of life’, myself included, are all the most chill, laid back, lazy mfs you could meet😭. we have no energy for sincere hatred, and there would be no one to hate but yourself anyway lol.

sending you guys (infiniteko) and anyone reading this lots of love & prosperity 🤍 you’re here to enjoy the dream, so enjoy it & don’t take it too seriously :)

Literally.👍🏻

Criticism ≠ Bullying

Criticizing posts does not mean Bullying the Writer of them, even if it were multiple posts.

Just like how Anons & I criticized people who offer Coachings with the same exact words that are for free on the internet. We criticized Sammy 1-2 days ago or that Scarlet person. Is that bullying them? If they were to delete their socials, did we bully them out of here too? Why would they care about our opinion of them? They're doing fine with that they're posting

Like you said, If one knows everything's "THAT", criticism will not phase you because it is "THAT". Only if you take it personal, it will. We've been criticized by anonymous (& not-anon) people, do we care? It's still THAT. I'm critizing myself. You (THAT) have a problem with yourself (THAT). They're us, we're you. You can say whatever you want to, everyone's fine here.

There was this Msperfect777 person here (is the name correct?) and one Anon pointed out that K once replied to an older post that was limited and MsP.777 wasn't insulted by it. She deleted the apps but that was because her work here is done, just like realitywarpingg did

I've already told Anons to directly show me which part of what I said was "bullying her".

If you like her stuff, go like her stuff. She has 10x as many followers as we do. If she wanted to she could've sent them after us so fast.

Put your thinking caps on for a minute, with her seeming range and success, why would she deactived because of 1 senseless seeming opinion if she knows what she knows. Her likes are idk, probably in the low-mid-hundreds, she has more supporters than criticizers. Why would she care.

[im-immortal]

2023 Writing Wrap-Up

I'm a little late this time around since it's already 2024, but I haven't done a writing wrap-up since 2021 and I thought it would be fun to bring back!

So this year, I was on quite a roll for the first half of the year. And then July rolled around and I started slowing down until it came to a screeching halt. Not sure what happened. Maybe it's my ADHD and constantly shifting hyper-fixations to blame. But I gradually managed to come back around just in time to post something for Christmas, which I'm still working on finishing. However, my hiatus doesn't take away the pride I still have for what I was able to write during the year. And I look forward to writing more in 2024! So here's all I managed to finish/get a good start on and post during 2023.

A Kiss For A Drink: 6,740 words; one-shot I actually started writing this back in 2020 or 2021, intended to be posted on Valentine's Day. And then I got a point where I couldn't finish it and let it sit for about 2 years. I finally came back with some inspiration and motivation and finished it just in time to post for Valentine's Day 2023! I'm really happy with how it came out. It was a fun idea that turned into a fun fic with a few laughs included, even if it is one of my least-viewed fics lol I had fun writing it too, which is all that really matters!

Lunacy Fringe: 62,690 words; 8/8 chapters To say this fic suddenly came out of nowhere would be an understatement. I literally got inspired out of the blue while listening to an episode of the Therapy Gecko podcast and the next thing I knew, I was balls deep in a psychological thriller. I actually managed to write it in just over a month or so!! Which is really incredible for me, especially considering I didn't step away from it at all or lose inspiration before it was finished. I'm really proud of how it turned out, and I haven't really told anyone, but I am working on converting it into an original story and possibly self-publishing. It could end up being my very first original novel :) the feedback I got was far more positive than I'd expected, especially considering how I portrayed Beth. I'm overall so so happy with how it turned out!!

Longer Than A Heartbeat: 157,289 words; 29/29 chapters Now this... this fic is one of my proudest pieces by far. I'll never get over how happy I am with how it turned out, and how I was actually able to finish it. For the last few years, every time I rewatched "28 Days Later," I couldn't stop thinking about how it would make such a good Bethyl fic, and how I wanted to convert it into a Bethyl fic that included Rick and Judith. I finally did it!! Technically, I wrote it in 2022, but I didn't completely finish it and post it until 2023. When I say I write for myself... this fic really proves it, because I go back and read chapters from it all the time just because it's so fun and I love how I wrote it. I was also pleasantly surprised by the reception and how people who hadn't ever watched "28 Days Later" enjoyed it! Not to mention, @boltthrutheheart made some incredible custom manips for me that I can never get over!!

hot girl summer (playing by the rules); 167k+ words, 16/30 chapters Ah yes, here she is... the companion piece to the first 3 fics of "in for a penny, in for a pound" that I've been planning/contemplating ever since I did that first fic from Beth's POV for the series. I always wanted to show Beth's POV for all the major moments in the series, and then once I got started, I figured why not go all in and just do her POV for the entirety of the series thus far? It gives a little more insight into how she's feeling, why she does the things she does and says the things she says, and we also get to see exactly what she was doing all those times that Daryl couldn't help wondering about her (because I already knew in my head, but I thought it might be fun to share with everyone else). I also thought it would make the set-up for the next fic a little better, so we could try and understand Beth's motivations better and where she's at in her head. Of course, I got pretty into it and then hit a speed bump and then suddenly, lost all ability to write. It'll come back soon, though. I can't wait to finish this fic and move on to the next in the series, and eventually conclude Beth and Daryl's tumultuous journey in this fun little AU.

Small Miracles; 39k+ words, 6/10 chapters This is the fic that finally pushed me back into being able to write. I had no plans of writing for BHF 2023, and then I suddenly had this strike of inspiration for a very weird idea and decided to go with it and try and finish it in time to post for Christmas. I did manage to finish about 1/3rd of the fic in time, but I'm still writing it and haven't lost motivation yet, so that's a good sign! It's also just really fun and kind of cathartic to do a new exploration of Beth's journey through the eyes of an older Beth who survived Grady, with that fun little supernatural twist added to it. I can't wait to finish this one, because I've had a lot of fun writing it and really look forward to seeing what people think of her entire journey and the way it will conclude.

To everyone who's read my fics, left feedback, kudos, bookmarks, or even helped me bounce ideas off and come up with plans for fics... thank you so much! I appreciate everyone in this little fandom so, so much. Y'all mean the world to me, and I am so grateful that we have this wonderful community in our own little corner of the internet. Happy New Year to you all, and I hope 2024 brings you nothing but blessings!

[heylittleriotact]

✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

Thanks you for the tag @preciouslittlebhaalbae - sorry this took absolutely forever to get to!

When did you start writing?

As soon as I was taught that a story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. I was the weird savant kid in first grade that was writing far above the level of my peers, but my teacher became concerned about the content of my writing because it was all really graphic, vicious, violent horror stories that included scenarios like two girls walking home from school and finding a severed head on the playground - complete with a vivid description of its dead eyes and the gravel sticking to the gore and strips of flesh and viscera at the base of the neck. I got sent for some counselling sessions and was told by the adults in my life that I was a very talented writer, but that I should write nice stories that are happy and make people feel good. Clearly that didn't stick. Thank fuck for that.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I've been very lax on reading for the past ten years or so. I haven't been able to get into things or maintain focus on novels long enough to get properly into them, but I do enjoy a good biography or autobiography.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I'm very paranoid about my voice sounding too much like someone else's. I've been reading more recently than I have in years and it's reaaaaally screwing with my confidence when I start putting things on paper because I start questioning if it sounds derivative and has been subliminally influenced by the author I'm currently reading. I have been told in the past more than once that my style is reminiscent of Ne*l G*iman which is a compliment that has aged like milk, sadly.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I focus the best at work lol. I just chuck in a headphone, queue up some music, pull out my notebook and my fountain pen and away I go. I have a big, beautiful white marble topped reception desk and massive windows that look out into downtown. The reception area has nice warm pot-lights on dimmers so I don't have to suffer under fluorescent lights like everyone else. Overall 10/10 super cozy.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Music is a big one. I make character playlists for almost every major character I write with a mix of lyrical and instrumental music. It really helps me nail down motivations, personality, flaws, and how they feel.

Aside from that, going out and doing something always helps. Participating in something, observing people - all really great ways to find little pieces of life to cannibalize and turn into words.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Hahahahahahahahahahaha

Alcoholism/substance abuse

PTSD/C-PTSD

Many other mental illnesses

Death and mortality

Magic as an entropic force that is largely misunderstood by those who study it

The first time I clocked the recurring nature of these themes I was like "huh" and now I just embrace them.

What is your reason for writing?

It's something I've always been compelled to do. As an abused child, it was very much an escape when I was young. As an abused adult, it was very much an escape when I got older. Writing has always been a great way for me to work through things that I've otherwise felt I have no control over. I can literally do whatever I want and it's very liberating.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

All of them. Any of them. The fact that anyone would take the time to not only read my writing, but also take the time to comment on it and give me their thoughts about it, how it made them feel, what they liked etc. is so meaningful to me. I write for myself and I don't change plots/directions based on what I think or know readers would like, so to have people trust in my vision and the direction it's going in and still come along for the ride is huge for me.

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Hmmmm. I've never really thought about it. Mysterious and sexy, but pleasant and supportive seems like a nice way to be perceived.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I've been told that I have a knack for battle/fight scenes, violence, and gore, which is unsurprising when one considers my tendencies when I wrote as a child.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I'm glad to be doing it again in the first place. I stopped altogether a few months into 2017 because I had used it as a coping mechanism for various abuses and traumas over the years, and then escaped the abuse and no longer required a coping mechanism. Anytime I tried to pick up a pen after that I just triggered myself and felt reminded of all the horrid reasons that I wrote in the first place.

Such a long gap has fucked with my skill and writing style and it's extremely noticeable when you hold up what I was working on in 2017 next to what I put out these days, but it's not necessarily a bad thing: the me that wrote like that doesn't exist anymore and that's okay. I'm having fun getting to know how I write now.

I very much danced around writing explicit sexual content for years on account of my face turning red and me giggling like a twelve year old every time I tried for years, but this year I've put serious effort into writing more smut and getting better at it. It's by no means perfect, but I'm really proud of how confidently I can approach sexual content these days.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

If I get too hung up on what other people want or might like I literally feel my characters cease to be mine and start to become weird gaseous inconsistencies in my mind. My stories deal with heavy themes, darkness, and personal struggles that I try to convey in a realistic way and that's not for everyone. Sometimes I wish I could just write nice happy stories like they told me to when I was a kid, but I feel like forcing myself into a box that isn't for me would be a betrayal to myself and this odd talent with words that I have.

Smut though? That's all about people-pleasing. Smut is written for me to enjoy, and you to enjoy, and anyone who comes across it to enjoy.

My brain is sore now so I won't tag anyone, but feel free to steal this if you'd like to!

[bluemooniegif]

besides bungo stray dogs, can u rcm me some manga having thought-provoking theme like that

ABSOLUTELY I CAN!! here are some manga, book and movie recs for you, cause I couldn't help myself :>

MANGA RECS:

1: The Case Study of Vanitas (Vanitas no Carte)

I knowww it's a cliche that BSD fans must also enjoy VNC, but it's genuinely just AHH so good!! it currently sits at 62.5 chapters (10 volumes & 9 uncollected chapters) and it has a 2-season anime adaptation. it's the second manga series by Jun Mochizuki, who's also well-known for her series Pandora Hearts, and is still ongoing.

set in 19th-century France, our story begins with Noe, a young vampire, who's excitedly travelling to Paris for the first time. in his travels, he encounters the strange and enigmatic Vanitas, a human who somehow possesses the power of the Vampire of the Blue Moon- a feared being shunned by the rest of the vampire world.

we learn from the very beginning that Noe is recounting this story to us, and that he kills Vanitas with his own hands- but why? how? nobody knows, but we're bound to find out!

2. Attack on Titan

I doubt anyone was expecting me to mention this one, because it has quite a reputation for being gore-filled and action-packed, but when I say this literally changed my life I'm really not kidding (I wouldn't have this blog or be into anime at all if not for AOT!). it's a completed story, with a four-season anime (including 3 OVA episodes) and 139 manga chapters (in the main storyline; there are multiple spin-offs and 2 bonus mangas/light novels).

many years ago, the final remnants of humanity were forced to flee into a city surrounded by three giant walls. these walls are the only things keeping humanity from perishing at the hand of the titans, giant humanoid figures who hunt and eat them. but a young boy, Eren, wants nothing more than to see the world beyond the wall- until a titan taller than their walls breaks into the city, throwing humanity (and Eren's life) into disarray.

though it's true that a large chunk of this animanga is action, the lore is incredible. I can't say too much without spoiling, but the thought-provoking aspects aren't talked about nearly as much as I think they should be. once you've finished watching or reading, I highly recommend you watch this video, which is one of my favourite video essays of all time!

BOOK RECS:

1. Slaughterhouse Five

this is one of my favourite books of all time, and it's only 177 pages, so it's a super quick read! not only is it severely anti-war, but it's deeply though-provoking. I think about it every day. I quote it regularly. I'd recommend it to anyone and everyone, especially now, with everything happening in the world.

I honestly don't have words for how much I love it, so here's the synopsis on Goodreads:

Prisoner of war, optometrist, time-traveller - these are the life roles of Billy Pilgrim, hero of this miraculously moving, bitter and funny story of innocence faced with apocalypse. Slaughterhouse 5 is one of the world's great anti-war books. Centring on the infamous fire-bombing of Dresden in the Second World War, Billy Pilgrim's odyssey through time reflects the journey of our own fractured lives as we search for meaning in what we are afraid to know.

2. No Longer Human

there are so many editions of this, and I would recommend all of them- this is my other favourite book of all time, by the way. I may be barking up the wrong tree when I tell a BSD fan to read Dazai, one of the most accessible and relatable Japanese authors for a Western audience, but hey, I've got to remind you just in case you haven't given it a shot.

No Longer Human follows the life of Yozo Oba, a boy born into a big rich family, who constantly feels at-odds with the world around him. it's an exploration of mental illness, social isolation, self-expression, and compassion. I actually have an entire youtube video talking about it and how BSD-Dazai reflects Yozo as much as irl-Dazai, and it's my pride and joy so please go watch it!

MOVIE RECS:

Okay, I only have one rec for you, but this movie haunts me (in the best way possible):

Forgotten (기억의 밤)

I really need more people to watch this actually because holy shit it was amazing and nobody talks about it!! WATCH IT!!! PLEASE!!!!

Jinseok watches his brother get kidnapped right before his eyes, and it powerless to do anything. 19 days later, he returns, and... something is different about him. Jinseok is determined to uncover the mystery surrounding his kidnapping.

the twists in this are actually insane. I can't tell you anything aside from the synopsis without spoiling major plot points. if you only take one recommendation I bed you to take this one.

okay that's all bye!!

[paddockbunny]

I just have to have a rant right now.

It was a family members birthday today so we went to a family lunch. I was sat there minding my own business (letting the louder family members take over) when one of them mentioned something about Copenhagen and I pepped up and said I was actually thinking about going on a solo trip there and wanted to ask what they thought of it etc. When out of the blue my aunt pipes up and goes “SOLO TRIP? WHY? DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FRIENDS?” So loudly everyone turned to look at me.

I held it together but I’ve literally been crying since I left at 3 and not because I was completely humiliated but because I’ve been thinking about it constantly for the past few months and the stark harshness of her words have truly upset me beyond describable words.

It’s true. I don’t have a lot of friends. I have 3 or 4 friends in general but none I would term “close friends” and I’ve not had a “best friend” since I was 7. It’s not because I’m not sociable, I love interacting with people (I couldn’t do any of the jobs I’ve had/currently have if I didn’t like speaking to people), I can talk to anyone from any background and creed, but I struggle actually making and keeping friends because I was bullied from the age of 11 to 21 - and even beyond that if you include workplace bullying - so feel like I’m a hindrance, unwelcome, a spare part and always in the way. The thing is, even without the PTSD from being bullied for so many years I do prefer my own company. I’m happy at home and enjoy my own space possibly more than a lot of my peers (so much so the thought of Uni halls gave me anxiety attacks before I went to Uni that I found a flat by myself and worked two jobs to afford it because finance wasn’t enough in a ridiculously expensive city.) I’m incredibly independent and don’t need “chummed” anywhere to do anything. I go to the movies alone, take myself for lunch, shop, travel all completely autonomously. So when my aunt said that this afternoon it wasn’t the fact she exclaimed “SOLO TRIP” so loudly that everyone stopped talking that upset me - and truthfully it wasn’t even the humiliation of her screech of; “do you not have any friends” that garnered a smattering of subtle laughter that did either - it was the fact that she made something that I had taken as one of my biggest strengths away from me in 5 short seconds.

I was instantly reminded of all the times I cried myself to sleep as a teenager wondering why no one liked me, why I had to try twice as hard to fit in as everyone else and why I had to be the one that was the target for childish immature disdain for no other reason than existing. It triggered thoughts (from only last month) that I wasn’t “right” to be friends with and even closer ones from this week as to why I wasn’t invited along to something this weekend. It also triggered that feeling of “what’s wrong with me?” that I know a lot of people who have gone through childhood bullying carry with them and trying to pinpoint exactly what it is that I needed to “fix” about myself for people to want to be around me.

As much as my aunts words and reaction stung what probably hurt more was that my mother said nothing. She stayed silent. She didn’t even give me a reassuring “it’s ok, she’s a fucking idiot, I’ll talk to her later” glance. She sat there and pretended not to chuckle even though she knows what I’ve gone through in the past. She just wrote it off and brushed it under the carpet with ease and nonchalance. No doubt thinking her usual bullshit line; “you’re old enough to defend yourself, you don’t need me to do it - but watch how you retort and how you come across because everything you’ll come out with will piss me off and make me angry as no matter now gently you do it you always sound so defensive” as she usually does.

So seconds later while I sat uncomfortable and on edge - everyone now glaring at me like I was the first great white shark in captivity waiting with baited breath for my answer - I just shrugged and stated; “I do, but none of my friends have any money ergo no people to go on holidays with.” Now, while this is semi true (thank-you very much cost of living crisis, fuck you!) it isn’t the case for a few of my friends….they just don’t want to spend that much time with me and honestly, I get that because I would probably not want to spend that much time with them either (because, funnily enough, I like my own company.) And that’s before we even consider the fact that not everyone likes the same things. My idea of a holiday and my friends ideas of holidays differ wildly and that is perfectly ok. One friend likes Ibiza, nightclubs with very little clothing and sleeping all day partying all night. And that suits her. One actually likes travelling but solely stays in hostels, flies by the seat of her pants, always ends up with some medical injury or illness and doesn’t plan a single thing. Again that suits her. And one goes to the exact same location, exact same hotel, exact same two weeks of the year and would never think of leaving the resort to see anything other than the beach or the pool. And that, absolutely suits her. I like culture. I love a museum and attraction (think The Met in NY and The Colosseum in Rome). I love eating local food and seeing how things are made like wine, olive oil, chocolate that come from that country or region. I like taking a guided tour, I like talking to local people, I like asking for recommendations and experiencing the culture and history of wherever I am. That’s just me and I realise that might not suit everyone and not be the idea some people have as a holiday so I don’t ask people to go with me. What I guess my aunt finds so sad is that the person I usually go with that was the person who installed all of that travel intrigue in my was in fact my own mother - the one who stayed silent when this all came up, the one I’ve got a trip coming up with this coming week, the one who laughed as I was made feel small and didn’t defend me.

Overall, I do want friends that would travel with me - actually, I just want friends in general to be honest - but I can’t seem to make and retain friends who even really like me very much, let alone enough to take a trip with me. And I’ve always told myself I’m happier like that but now being so triggered, maybe not. I’ve always thought I’m independent because I find it easier, I don’t need anyone else, The only person I have is myself, I have to rely on me and me alone and I always thought the lack of dependency was something I should be grateful for.

But today has made me realise that being alone and flying solo, is now something to hurt someone with and independence can be used as a weapon.

[fracturedporcelaindoll]

Dear diary,

I've been thinking why do I care what other people who don't know me say or think about me. I don't need to win some popularity contest yet I realize I've always cared about what others say. I suppose it was because I thought if I was being nice why would anyone be mean? The navieity of that.

I know I shouldn't think more on it, sure was there a little truth to what that random person said? yes but did they consider the effect of the words or give me a chance to better explain stuff so they might have a better understanding? No.

I could have replied with anger which I certainly felt and I could have pointed thier flaws out but I merely acknowledged thier perspective as informative while remaining calm.

I mean you think a person would appreciate calmness over emotional outbursts. Of course that's not to say I am always calm either.

Well onwards to another topic, I watched Red and Red 2 recently and very good movies. I don't care what anyone says there is something sexy about characters that are in the line of dangerous work, like assassins, spies etc. I wouldn't have called the police like the fl, (first movie) obviously Bruce Willis is just gorgeous and he could fuck me anytime.

I completed my workout and added in additional routine sets that I had taken a little break from and I remembered to stretch this time before starting sets, yay me lol.

As I was working out I got annoyed as some days I find it takes a little longer to complete set than other days. Although since recently upped reps it's to be expected that a couple of days may be needed before get into a comfortable pace during set. Honestly I feel like that can be the most difficult finding the right pace and literally remembering to breathe properly during workout sets.

I found a quiz that models or aspiring models use to help guide them with getting into shape and it made me feel so much better about myself. I mean maybe it's silly since I know am not a Victoria secret model physic yet but I am including the link in case others want to take the quiz as well.

It recommends diet and exercise focus regimens as well as has offer for program not that I'll be doing that as prefer not paying to participate in workout programs.

I also don't think it was accurate on diet, like do I love carbs? Absolutely but I can't just eat as many as I like without suffering the consequences.

I also found that my prior liking to believe I was an hourglass figure shape was incorrect so much for being a classic bombshell beauty..... I have a rectangular shape which apparently is considered less womanly and more girly. I'll take it tho as apparently such body types are recommended for model industry.

I also have according to the quiz results have what's classified as an Ectomorph body. It may just be marketing to get people to buy into thier workout program in hopes of achieving model physic of Victoria secret models but thanks for making me feel slightly better about myself.

Of course I think I'll wait til April before purchasing any sexy swimsuits.

[x-authorship-x]

2022 Creators Self-Love Extravaganza!

Rules:

It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2022. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love!

This post is inspired by @bubblesthemonsterartist - thanks for bringing it across my dash! ✨

1) THE 'A' IN ANBU STANDS FOR (SURPRISE) ADOPTION

I love feel-good found-family fluff fics and this one served a side of comedy to boot. Writing this was really therapeutic at a stressful time in my life and I was feeling really guilty for not keeping up with my longstanding Shisui Series (HOPE AU, including completed work 'No Tomorrow' (NoT) and ongoing sequel 'Until Dawn Breaks' (UDB)). Writing Shisui is always my favourite thing to do, he's such a comfort character to me even if I'm making him hurtle through life and death situations or wacky AUs. This fic kind of encapsulated that, the joy I find in him as a character, and making sure he's loved and supported too. The fic started when I asked myself all the possible points in time for Shisui to transform what happened in canon; one of them was 'Itachi is under crazy pressure... How can Shisui protect him?' and 'legal guardian the shit out of his baby cousins' was the immediate answer.

Summary: Shisui didn't know why Raidou was giving him disappointed looks. It wasn't like Shisui had much of a track record for letting things go, for going with the Status-Quo and ignoring what was happening around him. Or that this was the first, er, child acquisition - for any of them! - either.

Honestly, at this rate, they were going to be renamed Squad Toddler instead of Two.

It was Kakashi who grabbed this one, anyway!

2) Until Dawn Breaks

This is the sequel to my favourite shisui fic I've ever written. I planned the whole story out, multiple arcs, before I had even written a word for the fic itself. I spent days getting together a brand new timeline for the Narutoverse, I figured out a whole cast, their abilities and motivations and relationships, and it felt like the whole thing was hovering above the page, waiting to be written. Writing No Tomorrow (NoT) was literally the best thing I've ever done and I'm so proud of that fic, even if I would edit it differently looking back on it now. For Until Dawn Breaks (UDB), I was really conflicted on the plotline because of that phrase, 'no plan survives contact with the enemy'. I'm at a cross roads with the fic, part of me wishes I'd skipped this arc entirely, but I don't want to abandon anything so I'm forced to soldier through. I have to make a lot of big plot decisions and that takes a lot of time, which I don't have, and knowledge, which has faded over the past year or so. I used to only update when I had at least three more chapters finished ahead of time and now I publish as soon as it's ready, and I'm sad to have lost that routine. Writing is hard and it's supposed to be fun. I hope my readers understand that breaks are inevitable and they still come read updates whenever they arrive. The fact I updated this fic this year is a huge thing for me and I'm really proud that I could keep going through this rough patch with the fic and IRL.

Summary: Shisui had succeeded, destroying the man who was responsible for his death, in every way possible. Who had caused so much suffering... more than anyone could have foreseen.

(He gasped for air, throat parched and lips chapped and-)

But now came the hardest part; learning to live again.

(The ground felt as distant as the dim twinkle of stars scattered across the night sky.)

All was still.

(The air, the only thing surrounding him, felt stretched in his lungs, whipped his clothes and hair taunt from his skin, and streamed tears from his eyes.)

And then it wasn't.

3) The Red Istari

I submitted my thesis at midnight and planned this fic before I went to sleep. The first chapter was completed and posted within a day of that. This fic was a watershed moment for me, I had made a promise that I wouldn't write any fanfic whilst working on my thesis drafts until it had been completed and I stuck to that. I did some brainstorming, I have a lot of WIP ideas saved up, but I didn't write and I didn't allow my focus to shift. This fic was like a dam exploding and I feel like I'm still recovering for the enforced sabbatical. I'd attempted LotR/Naruto crossovers before but it always felt like there wasn't much of an audience for it and, whilst I like to think I write for myself, I do weigh up reader engagement too because I find it discouraging to post and get nothing nice back for my hard work. This time I didn't care, tbh. I watched the extended edition on loop in the final days of my thesis work and it felt like i had to write this fic or explode. I think it worked out nicely haha

Summary: The sky was aglow, deepest crimson washing over the land and undimmed by the bruise-purple clouds that clutched at the edges of the horizon.

The sands shifted beneath him, deep and perfect as only a desert that has consumed everything within it can be.

A staff of inscribed steel stood proud where it was stabbed into the sand, radiating heat against the side of his neck.

Somehow, he knew in his bones that there was nothing out there but him, the staff, and the golden desert.

He was alive, bare, and unwounded despite the blood he could feel stuck to his flesh.

This was not death.

This was… something new.

4) REVELRY

I once wrote a Bnha self insert and the whole experience of trying to make sense of the fandom and the canon verse was so bewildering that I never wrote for my hero academia again. Until now. I've read a lot of Bnha (seriously, my total ao3 bookmarks are in the 6000s now) and I have a lot of characters I adore but i never felt the urge to write for them like i did for this Tokoyami fic. Quirk science confuses me, I'm not one of those accounts who can theorise legitimately on the topic, but quirk Shenanigans and fuckery is something I can weigh in on a little more confidently. I'm ending 2022 by trying out a fandom i thought I'd never post about again. It's a nice bit of self character development, yeah?

Summary: “The shadow is the greatest teacher for how to come to the light.”

Others don't understand that a 'quirk' is not always a tool and that, sometimes, a family is two birds in the darkness of the night.

Fumikage is going to be a hero.

And so is Dark Shadow.

AKA

What if Tokoyami was the top hero student in his class?

5) WIPS

This last celebration is for my WIPs! There are a stupid amount of them, most will never see the light of day, but i love them all ❤️ they're wacky, heart breaking, ridiculous, fluffy, healing and badass! I'll spotlight a few of my favs from this year, since I pick out a snappy title, dramatic summary and aesthetic line divider before almost anything else haha

DRAGON (KAGE SERIES WIP)

“The hunger of a dragon is slow to wake, but hard to sate." ― Ursula K. Le Guin

Mikoto had been born into a Clan that, whilst not so foolish as to disregard its girls, preferred for them to stay at home, providing future heirs and fighters, than risking themselves in the field. Peace had only esasperated the expectations that a pretty girl made a prettier wife.

Mikoto, thankfully, was the daughter of Uzushio Ambassador Uchiha Kagami and Shiho the Silvertongue.

Her inner spark was tended, never stifled. 

The Will of Fire would burn brightly once more.

AKA

Mikoto had been born in a plum grove, nearly a month premature, exactly half way between Konoha and Uzushio. Her mother predicted that she would have an indomitable will. Her father declared that she was born between two worlds.

They were both right.

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>

HUNTER (KAGE SERIES WIP)

The Sarutobi Clan had long been in the service of the Daimyo. The Uchiha and Senju were Noble Shinobi. The Nara were Wild Healers, coaxed out of obscurity by their connection to the Yamanaka and Akimichi.

The Hatake had been Samurai, set apart by their own moral code and Clan culture.

They'd sworn themsleves to Konoha, allies with the Senju for centuries. They were Kin to the Nidaime, who was born of Senju Butsuma's second wife, and an integral part of the village founding. Their loyalty and skill had put them in the first line of defense and had proven their Clan's downfall.

Sakumo was the Head of a Clan of two. His wife, ambushed on a solo courier mission. His son and heir, strongarmed onto the battlefield far too young for all of his genius. The Hatake were in danger and Sakumo was their only hope.

The White Fang had played the loyal watchdog for too long. Konoha had forgotten the bite of white chakra and the savagery of a desperate father.

Konoha needed to remember why the rest of the known world rightly feared wolves.

╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠╣◍╠

THORN

"We, who wield power, adorn ourselves with flowers to hide the sting of our thorns." - L. Bardugo

They saw her ebony curls, eyes like cranberries, and the strength of her Genjutsu.

'Uchiha,' they whispered, fearful, wrong.

'Pretender', the Clan-born dismissed, sneering, ignorant.

'Clan', the trees seemed to murmur, a song precious few could hear these days, and swayed towards her presence. A leaf caressed her cheek, the soil humming underfoot, and branches curved to cradle her descent.

Kurenai had grown up in a civilian family and, whenever anyone looked at her, that was all they saw. The Yuuhi family were small, wide-spread, but had done well for themselves. Kurenai was their only child, the lone Shinobi in generations, and the secrets in her blood seemed to pound just beneath her skin. 

She wove roses into reality and warped the mind in her grasp until nothing was believable and the flourishing greenery was waved away as a trick of the light.

'Yuuhi,' they called her.

'Senju', the forest breathed.

And Kurenai smiled.

AKA

Kurenai wasn't supposed to reach Jounin until she was 25, and even that might have garnered too much attention. However, when she notices familiar chakra - like her, like her, like her - lingering around her friend, Kakashi, Kurenai stumbles across a conspiracy that spans decades.

Truth will out. And Blood runs true.

AKA

Kurenai has her Grandfather's eyes and her Great Uncle's chakra.

ෆ(⁠)✿ᘛ⋋⁠✿ෆ(⁠)✿ᘛ⋋⁠✿⁠ෆ(⁠)✿ᘛ⋋⁠✿ෆ(⁠)✿ᘛ⋋⁠✿⁠ ෆ(⁠)✿ᘛ⋋⁠✿

I'll tag: @looks-like-starlight @katlou303 @thekatthatbarks @ellorypurebloodculture @raendown anyone else who wants to play!

[jealousveronya]

Pairing: Feysand

Summary:

“I’ll heal your arm in exchange”, he almost whispered, “for you”. The last word left his lips like a purr.

Feyre finally got the courage to move so she angled her face to get a better view of his. He did the same and soon they were staring into each other's eyes.

His eyes looked like night itself.

“In exchange for me? What do you mean?”

He smirked.

A Cauldron cursed smirk, Feyre thought.

“What do you think I mean, darling?” His hand rested on her knee.

“I want to enjoy you.” His hand started sliding upwards. “First, I want to taste you.” He slid his hand in between her legs, resting it on her inner thigh. Feyre was in too much shock to move and only found herself able to fluctuate her attention between his eyes, his lips, and his hand. “Then, after I taste you, I want to sink myself in you. Slowly.” He pushed her thigh to the side, spreading her legs. “So slowly, that you will forget everything else and think we were just two star-crossed lovers making love.” He grinned. “But then-” His fingers started trailing towards her center in a teasing manner. “I’d pick up my pace... "

(or in other words, how the bargain could have gone)

Warning: smut

Chapter 1

Read on: AO3 or Tumblr

Chapter 2

Read on: AO3 or click keep reading

Rhysand forgot how to love.

Or maybe he just never knew in the first place.

He thought back to his past lovers and all the times he said those cursed words

I love you.

He meant it every time he said it.

Love wasn’t something he took lightly. If he said he loved someone, he meant that he’d do anything for them, and that included hurting anyone who posed a threat to their safety. That’s what his love was like. That’s the only way he knew to love.

All of his lovers said those cursed words back, so one would assume that not only was he capable of loving, but that he was also capable of being loved.

However, he’d lie if he said he believed their confessions of love, at least at first, until his lovers proved that they’d stick through thick and thin with him. There was always a seed of doubt that their love was not as true as his and not because he thought himself superior, but because he was all too aware of the burden that was his title. He was a High Lord and when he hadn’t been that, he was a High Lord’s son, the heir to the throne of the Night Court. A relationship with him opened many doors and who’s to say that those lovers chose to be with him because they loved him and not because of his status? And who in their right mind would deny a High Lord? Who would not say I love you back to a High Lord? They would all think he’d kill them if they didn’t.

He was the one who initiated the breakups of all his relationships, and now thinking back to it was that because all his past lovers were all so in love with him they couldn’t imagine leaving, or because they were scared of what he’d do if they left him?

His mind leaned toward the latter.

Because now, that his title cannot help him, the woman he was interested in had absolutely no interest in him.

Feyre.

He didn’t dare admit what she might be to him. It was too vulnerable to admit in this situation. All that he knew was that he wanted her since he saw her and after he she defeated the wyrm and threw that bone at Amaratha, he had fallen completely in love.

She, on the other hand, looked at him with absolute disgust.

Though to be fair, it was his fault.

He behaved well on Calanmai, he was charming, he saved her, he heard her think that he was the most handsome male she had ever seen (a title he liked way more than the one of a High Lord), and although the situation was that he couldn’t get to know her, at least he would’ve remained as a nice memory.

However!

She just had to be the woman Tamlin meant to seduce and, unfortunately for Rhys, but fortunately for literally anyone else in Prythian, Tamlin did it, Feyre started to love him.

And maybe if Rhys hadn’t scared Tamlin that he’d tell Amarantha about Feyre, Feyre would have confessed her love to Tamlin in those last three days.

But Rhys knew that if that had happened, Amarantha would have crawled out of the Under the Mountain and ripped out Feyre’s throat the second Tamlin wasn’t looking, and given that this was Tamlin, even if he was looking he’d just growl, and snarl and not do shit.

So Rhysand damned it all, he damned his inner circle, the Night Court, the Prythian, and possibly the entire world too, for her.

For Feyre.

For his…whatever the Mother planned.

But now she was here, Under the Mountain, confessing her love to the High Lord of flowers and butterflies a little too late and Rhysand wondered why the Cauldron wanted to see him suffer so greatly.

During his visit to the Spring Court and his cute performance, he made her hate him because that’s the only way he knew he could make her run away.

But since she didn’t and she was here with him Under the Mountain, Rhysand knew there were two possibilities.

Feyre was going to die and soon after he’d off himself too because living in a world without her seemed pointless for a reason he couldn’t say aloud.

Feyre was going to win and go back to the Spring Court with Tamlin.

If the first were to happen, he’d be damned if she died before he got a chance to be with her, know her, feel her, taste her.

The second was not going to happen. If Feyre wins, he is taking her to Night Court and marrying her. Anyone who wanted to complain could quite frankly, fuck themselves, and that included Tamlin.

However, Rhysand was no brute. He wasn’t going to take Feyre to the Night Court while she was screaming and crying and begging for Tamlin to rescue her, nor was he going to marry her if he disgusted her.

No.

She was going to come with him willingly.

Which meant one thing, whichever scenario happened, he had to seduce her, had to wipe Tamlin completely out of her mind, and replace him with himself.

But Rhysand didn’t know how.

How do you seduce someone who hates you? And not only that, but how do you seduce someone who is hopelessly in love with your enemy and is risking everything to save him?

If he was in the Night Court, he could take her through the streets of Velaris and show her a good time, that would at least be a start, but what could he do Under the Mountain?

Give her flowers? Where would he get flowers? Would flowers even work in this situation?

He really didn’t know how to make her love him.

But he knew one thing.

He knew how to fuck.

That had to account for something.

So he devised a plan.

She wasn’t going to just jump into his bed, that much he was aware of. She wasn’t going to let him sink himself into her just because she was missing Tamlin.

But she’d do it if it was in exchange for something, something like stopping her from dying from an infection.

That could work.

So Rhysand did something he doubted he could forgive himself ever.

After seeing her with a broken arm, he enchanted Lucien, knowing he healed her before, not to come this time, not to heal her.

There, it was a perfect opportunity for Rhys to swoop in.

And just as she reached her breaking point, when she convinced herself Lucien wasn’t going to come and she was going to die, he appeared with the deal.

“I’ll heal your arm in exchange for you”

And she agreed.

And he got to taste her later.

And now everything else tasted bland.

Her slickness was sweet, but not in the same way that, for example, honey was sweet. It was a different kind of sweet, one that not only his taste buds could register, but one that his heart loved.

And she liked it.

She liked the pleasures he could give her.

Given, she was still in love with the ugly furry beast, but it was a start.

Tonight was the night he would announce their deal to Tamlin and if Tamlin continued to be his stupid cowardly self, Rhysand was going to do much more than just taste her after the party.

After that, it was just a matter of time before she developed some feelings for him.

He is going to be there for her through all of this mess, physically and emotionally, while Tamlin only sits next to Amarantha. That was going to have to account for something, right?

But there was some part of him that didn’t like this.

A large part of him didn’t like this.

He didn’t like that they were going to fuck because of a deal, he wanted it to be out of love or, at least, out of a need for a release, not because he gave her no other option. But he didn’t know how else to try to make her love him.

He scoffed.

That was some excuse.

Feyre’s body was being painted all over by Nuala and Cerridwen as Rhysand watched from the corner.

Please forgive me, he begged.

He walked out of the shadow as they finished draping her in the white sparkly fabric that hung over her breasts, her core, and her behind, barely hiding what was beneath.

Forgive me, he begged.

She looked him in the eyes as Nuala and Cerridwen vanished.

Her eyes were so blue, like the sky he missed, like the ocean he hadn’t seen in forever.

“Was this really necessary?” She gestured to her entire body.

“Yes.” He came closer to her

Being near her was intoxicating.

She was so bright, so strong, she stood her ground and he mentally cursed himself as he felt like his darkness dimmed her light.

He golden brown hair was flowing down her shoulder, her white skin covered in black swirls was radiant and although he had a good look at her breasts she hadn’t felt the need to cover them.

He ran his fingers against her arm in a gentle manner, smearing the paint, only for it to magically fix itself as soon as he withdrew his hand.

“You can’t smear it and neither can your clothing, but I’ll remember exactly where my hands were, and if a certain High Lord who enjoys Spring time thinks to touch you, I will know and let me tell you one thing, Feyre”, he locked his eyes with hers, “I don’t share.”

“Not that you can share something that’s not yours, Rhysand.”  She countered back.

“Not mine, eh?” He took another step towards her until their chests were pressed against each other.

A choice.

He wanted to be her choice.

“Then how about we change that?”

He lifted her by her thighs and as he took another step forward they winnowed to his bedroom.

“We have a few minutes to spare either way.” He lowered her onto his bed.

She placed her arms on his chest, stopping him from lowering himself on her.

“This wasn’t the deal.”

“Fuck the deal, it’s stupid anyways.”

He removed her arms with his and pinned them to the bed before crashing his lips on hers against hers with as much force as he could.

Feyre instantly responded to the kiss, kissing him back while trying to free her arms.

She had a sudden desire to run them through his hair.

He released her lips and started kissing down her neck.

She looked to where he held her arms and noticed the paint was smeared and it wasn’t fixing itself.

“What do you mean the deal is stupid?” She dared to ask.

“I want to have you, darling, and the deal would allow me to do so, but do you know what I want even more?” He took a break from kissing her skin and looked her in the eyes which made Feyre swallow the lump that was stuck in her throat. “I want you to want me to have you.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I can’t wait to tell Tamlin I get to have you, but I’d trade all of that for you to want me and not just…not just the in physical sense.” He whispered.

Rhysand didn’t plan on telling her any of this, but something about her made him want to be honest, made him want to lay his heart bare to her, for her to do as she pleases.

“I want Tamlin.”

He sinisterly chuckled in response.

“Must you be so cruel, darling? I am dying over here.”

On the bed, he knelt in between her legs as the white piece of fabric of her gown, if it could be called that, covered her core.

“Let me have you.” His eyes were locked on hers and Feyre could do nothing but stare back.

“Please, let me have you now.” He released her arms.

“I-“

Rhys, rhys, rhys, rhys… her heart seemed to repeat as if some spell was woven around it.

She shouldn’t let herself even dream about a moment like this, but something about him, the way he was pleading, the fact he, a High Lord, was on his knees for her…it was all too much for her.

Ever since he pleasured her she couldn’t get him out of her mind. During the night her fingers would find the heat between her legs and try to relieve it as she pretended they were his fingers. She did this more times than she could admit. She wanted him again and she wanted more more more.   

She knew she said last time would be the only time.

But don’t you want to know what awaits you if Tamlin does not react? Do you want to spend the entire party dreading what will happen between you and Rhys? And maybe if Tamlin sees that Rhysand had you already, he’ll be angrier and react… She argued with herself.

And then after he reacts, Rhysand won’t be able to touch you anymore and whatever you feel for him – whatever you think you feel for him – will be sated and you’ll be free from it

Free.

Meaning the constant ache in her heart and in between her legs that got worse as she thought of him would disappear.

And so, having convinced herself, Feyre reached out her arms around Rhysand’s neck pulling him in for a bruising kiss.

He seemed surprised, crashing his open mouth to hers, but he instantly regained his composure and pushed his tongue inside her mouth trying to taste as much as he could.

His lips were so soft and his hair was so silky and everything about him was like a dream.

He pushed aside the white fabric from her crotch exposing her glistening core to him.

His fingers trailed along her wet slit and Feyre moaned into the kiss before separating. “Don’t. We have to hurry.”

He quickly returned his lips to hers, instantly silencing her as his fingers made quick work of his pants and his erect cock was exposed.

He grabbed her legs under her knees and them pushed apart toward her. “Fuck, darling, you are so wet. I can’t wait to taste you soon.”

He lined up his cock with her entrance perfectly before pushing inside slowly, spreading her lips open.

It went in smoothly.

“Perfect.” He moaned out. “So perfect for me, made for me, look how nicely we fit.”

Feyre had to break the kiss as her head rolled back. “Fuck!”

 “Such a filthy mouth darling.”

“Like you care.” She moaned again as he pushed another inch into her.

“You are right I don’t, because later tonight, I’ll make it even filthier.” He was more than halfway in.

“Rhys.” She moaned out as she grabbed onto his shoulders, digging her nails into his black jacket.

In one swift movement, he was completely inside her.

“Move.”

“Whatever my darling requests.”

And he started going out before slamming right in again. “Wanted you like this since I saw you.” His words were an erotic whisper.

He pulled out again, this time completely, before going back inside her fully causing her breasts to bounce up and down making the fabric of her gown uncover them. “Wanted to have you on the grass at Calanmai.”

He started picking up his pace. “When I saw you at the Spring Manor, all I wanted to do was bend you over that table and have you as Tamlin and Lucien watched.”

Feyre moaned louder than before as she imagined him fucking her after the Summer Solstice.

“I want you like this forever.”

She was getting close so close so close

“After we get rid of Amarantha, I’ll take you to the Night Court and have you every day like this.”

“Rhys!” She screamed out as she finished, seeing white.

The moment she finished, Rhysand roared as he finished inside her, spilling out of her.

He kissed her again. A sloppy wet kiss to her lips. “My darling.”

Feyre looked down at her waist.

Her paint was ruined around her thighs, her wrists, and her hips.

Tamlin will know.

He’ll react.

And the deal will be off.

And something she thought would be sated after one time will eat her from inside because she was wrong,  Once wasn’t enough, it’ll never be enough. She needed him again, right now.

[jekyllnahyena]

Alright I got wedding brain. I have to go to ten weddings this summer. So for Hyde and Cody. Who is Cody best man if they were to get married?

(this whole thing turned so much more unhinged than I ever thought possible, I would be sorry, but u asked me and if there's one thing I've proven, it's that my brain turns things weird)

I mean, my first thought would be Rex, wouldn't it?

Despite the distance that has built itself between Cody and most of his siblings, Rex stuck. But that has to do with the fact that Rex is the younger sibling, one that looks up to Cody and. And. Eh. Fuck it, this is going so off-topic, but I'm gonna get rambly because u just accidentally touched on some very specific Cody problems.

Cody has issues with honesty, with emotional closeness, with a superiority complex and a shit ton more. He solves problems, he's a leader and untouchable in battle, he's been the judge and the jury and the executioner for his siblings for most of his life.

He's The Marshal. And that's what his siblings start to see. So there isn't really anyone that, eh, deeply close to him? And I have yet to work out on who exactly the people will be? (look, most of my Cody and Hyde stuff is based purely on vibes and ridiculous ideas)

I like to think that got close with his batch again, because he did notice these things and started to unearth some of the stuff he's practically branded into his skin the same way his scar is. But I feel that choosing a best man would be something were he began spiraling, ending up with trying to be as diplomatical as possible and shoving everything else behind a very tight wall. It's a stressful time, ok, some of it all will bubble up again.

If I'm being completely honest, I've got no clue. Maybe he wants it to be somebody of his batch, because for once he just wants to be the second oldest and nothing else, at least on that day. Maybe somebody more outside of things, there are some friendship's he's built up again, funnily Monnk and Lockup and Fox come to mind for me, but this all goes down to the biggest thing of it all.

If those two ever were to be married, it would be only the two of them, on a whim, at some morning and only later would they tell and plan a party to placate people and let them share it all because that is still the thing warming Cody's whole being. He loves his siblings more than he loves the world, the galaxy, himself, but that's the crux of it all, innit?

It boils down to a few things, they're already living together, Cody has his room, Hyde has theirs, they have their routine built up already and it's just something ridiculous like getting taxes and realising it would be cheaper to be married, they already own a business together. Or maybe because the idea springs up and why the fuck not? Living without you would feel like losing a part of myself, so they sit down over breakfast and discuss it a bit and what a big wedding would and include but instead go, 'it feels right this very moment, doesn't it?' and Hyde asks how to say the words, it's not like they've looked them up beforehand and tried to see how they'd feel on their tongue, right?

Because here's a small fun fact, Hyde doesn't want a big wedding. They're terrified of the idea.

An after party? Fuck yeah! Big wedding? Hell no.

So knowing of a mandalorian wedding would be them being together and saying words and that is enough? Everything Hyde could ever dream of. Those two can deal with the outrage of it all afterwards because that is still Cody, The Marshal and one of the most well-known figures of the war and you married in your ratty lil kitchen?????

And for Cody, getting married was absolutely never on his agenda, he's still learning to live without a war. But I think something he really, really wants on those days that he's soft and comfortable and not worrying about literally everyone else but himself because man, that savior complex is seated in his fucking Bones, he just wants a bit of peace. And in front of people would mean a shit ton of responsibility and stress and chaos and him spiraling again in ways he does not want to touch, you know? Afterwards, he'll probably get all of his siblings together, plan the whole thing by himself and make sure that everybody is taken care off, but that little thing stays between them.

(also sending u so much energy for that summer! I've watched one of my sibs spent pretty much all of may to september going to weddings. there were like three free weekends, shit can get exhausting.)

[ask-asexual-crystal-gems]

Hi, I don't want to be rude, I'm just trying to learn and don't know who else to ask about this sort of thing:

I've recently started learning a little bit about asexuality, and the main thing I don't really understand is how people can really be so sure about this sort of thing (especially really young people; I've seen kids barely eleven or twelve years old calling themselves ace). I know so many people (particularly women) who never felt any sort of sexual attraction, and were sure they never would, and then they eventually did.

Including myself! Like I said, the term "asexual" isn't something I encountered until fairly recently, but there was a very long stretch of time (read: all of middle school and all of high school and even the first year or two of college) where, if I'd known the words, I'd probably have considered myself ace, or at least demi. I was completely sex-repulsed (again, not a term I was familiar with at the time, I just thought of myself as a prude). (I liked looking at cute boys, but only in the way you look at paintings: nice to watch for a while, but I had no desire to touch or even talk to them.) Sex just sounded really gross and I didn't get the appeal in the slightest. (And whenever my friends started gushing about hot guys and their abs, I just got totally confused. How did the amount of muscle a guy had determine his attractiveness?)

(I also didn't have my first real crush until I was almost seventeen, and it was with a guy I'd literally known my entire life (who was totally off-limits for many reasons) but had only recently started hanging out with one-on-one and realized how much we had in common. It was a mess and I was an emotional wreck for months until I got over him.)

And then one day, when I was around twenty or so, I woke up and realized that sex just didn't weird me out anymore. I wasn't about to run out and have a one-night stand with the first semi-decent looking man I met, but the idea of being like that with a guy (especially one I really cared about) suddenly sounded really nice and like something to look forward to. And something I wanted sooner rather than later.

To me, it feels like a lot of it is just the backlash of our highly over-sexualized culture, where sex and romance are pushed at us (again, particularly girls) from a very young age, often in a rather shallow, unrealistic, pornographic, Hollywood-esque way, and touch in general is seen as less and less platonic (when I was in high school, I thought nothing of holding hands with my friends or leaning my head on their shoulders or even sharing a bed on a sleepover, but nowadays if you do that sort of thing with anyone but family, the assumption is that you're in some sort of non-platonic relationship).

(When I was in college, my mother saw me running my fingers through a female friend's hair and asked if there was something I wanted to tell her. I was confused at first, and when I understood what she meant I was really upset. Not because I was offended at being considered gay, but because platonic touch has always been so so important to me and the realization that from now, on it would be seen as something else hurt. (And also because I was still rather sex-repulsed and the thought of being in that sort of relationship with anyone, especially someone I thought of as practically a sister, was gross.))

We're simultaneously being told, "don't show any sort of physical affection to anyone you don't want to sleep with" and "you should have sex as often and with as many people as you possibly can." And more and more, young people are rejecting that hook-up culture mentality; and where once they would have been considered late-bloomers or old-fashioned or even pretty normal, it's now seen as them having a "problem" or being "weird." And, like every difference, it needs a clear-cut label we can use in response. ("There's nothing wrong with me, I'm just [insert group label here]." "Well, when we thought you were just a freak, we felt justified in being rude, but now that you can call us [insert aforementioned label]-phobic, we probably shouldn't do that. (And if we do, you have like-minded people who'll protest in your defense.)")

But to me, labels aren't always a good thing, and can even be dangerous at times. Once someone puts a label on themself, they often feel like they have to keep using it, even if it no longer fits. Especially if they've shared it with everyone they know, and were celebrated for it.

(Where someone like me might once have only gotten into their first relationship in their twenties and just explained it as, "oh, I'm just a late bloomer" or "I hadn't found the right person yet," they might now say to themselves that "last year I told everyone that I was aroace, so if I show up somewhere with a boyfriend, I'll either be made fun of or accused of lying. And even if they don't, I'm going to feel really stupid about that coming out party they threw for me. I may as well keep using this label even it doesn't accurately reflect how I feel.")

I guess what I'm trying to ask is what makes people, especially young people, (and particularly young women, who generally have a lower sex drive than boys of the same age) so sure that they can't feel sexual and/or romantic attraction, and aren't just "late bloomers" like myself? And what is the difference between the two?

(Sorry this ended up being so long, I guess I had more thoughts on the subject than I thought. Again, I really am not trying to be rude or accuse anyone of anything, I genuinely want to educate myself and understand more.)

Hoo boy this IS a long one, so I’m gonna have to do it in pieces, I think.

Probably gonna either reblog multiple times or start separate posts using this as a prompt list of sorts and then link them back to this one.

*stretches

ok, let’s begin here

“particularly women.”

Yes, it is very likely that there are more ace spec women than men. (Or afabs vs. amabs or lower testosterone people vs. higher testosterone people if we’re gonna go on that tangent.)

This is just basically true at face value, when talking bell curve distributions. No need to comment on it further.

(unless you want me to start in on a feminist rant about how the same way we as a society tend to linguistically use ‘he’ as the default pronoun, we, especially in media, also use male-coded attraction experiences as the “norm.”)

“there was a very long stretch of time”

Yes. That’s gray ace. Experiencing attraction very infrequently.

The thing that I see people struggling with with these 2 concepts is, “but what if demisexuality or graysexuality is normal for many women?” What if it is? That’s fine and cool and isn’t it great in this modern age we now have language to express and describe female-coded experiences instead of living with unspoken and unconscious norms and feeling broken and in some cases being literally over-medicalized by doctors when male partners don’t get their “needs” met [BIG emphasis on those scare quotes]

“I was completely sex-repulsed (again, not a term I was familiar with at the time, I just thought of myself as a prude).”

People grow and change in their sexuality. Bi folks preferences and leanings may change over time with their body changing. Some die-hard lesbians end up falling for men. Sexuality is fluid and malleable. This does not invalidate sexuality or your relationship to it at any given point in time in your life.

As long as we keep in mind as a culture that you are allowed to grow and change in your sexuality, there is no problem with using a set of labels, because you have the understanding that you can always change them later. Anybody who’s not on board with that and gives themselves or others grief over it has some growing up to do of their own.

Minors have sex with each other, or have interest in doing so, and if you felt Othered by that, then you did. There’s no changing that lived experience or whatever the biological differences are that underpin it. We can only become more accepting to fix the first. The second is immutable.

Let me repeat for emphasis.

Sexuality is fluid and malleable. This does not invalidate sexuality or your relationship to it at any given point in time in your life. Yes this includes childhood. Some people experience their first period as early as 6 years old.

They are the statistical outliers at that stage in life, but you, or at least people like you, are the outlier when it comes to other 15 year olds. Some of whom have been masturbating avidly since they were 11. Many try really hard to studiously ignore the fact that kids/teens have a sexuality, and that results not only in a whole lot of internalized shame, nearly a decade worth of it, but also forced confusion (might be termed collective gaslighting?) like this over whether a 15 year old can ‘really’ tell if they are different from their peers.

“(And whenever my friends started gushing about hot guys and their abs, I just got totally confused. How did the amount of muscle a guy had determine his attractiveness?)”

Exactly.

Didn’t even get to reading this part yet and I had already covered being Othered.

Whether it was malicious or passive doesn’t matter.

pansexuals and demisexuals and sapiosexuals would all feel Othered in these situations.

So let’s start validating those lived experiences rather than constantly putting them down by questioning them.

To Be Continued >>

[runicmagitek]

2022 Writerly Year Review

tagged by @frozen-fountain (many thanks!!) not gonna tag anyone, but if you're a writer and are reading this and feel like giving this a go? Consider yourself tagged! 💖

Total number of completed works. Posted to AO3? 62 🙃 I guess it's technically 61, as What Leads You Here is still in progress, being a longfic and all.

Total number of WIPs worked on this year. Oh lord, hold please as I count all the drafts and partially done stuff in Scrivener.... 7 total. 8 if you include What Leads You Here, which fully drafted, but in the editing phase.

WIPs neglected this year. I honestly don't know djsaklfdjslkfjkldas I continue to neglect my one Celes/Terra fic I abandoned when 13 Sentinels hijacked my brain, so there's that 🙃 I promise I'll return to it one day.

Fandoms I've written in. 13 Sentinels, Critical Role, Final Fantasy (VI, VII, IX, and X), Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury, My Dress-Up Darling, and Pyre

Total word count. Uh, posted to AO3? 287,882. Written? A little over 500k

Looking back, did you write more than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you expected? MORE. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY MORE.

Did you take any writing risks this year? There were a handful of fics that I banged out in a single day, quickly edited them, and slapped them onto AO3. Are they amazing works of literature? Hell no. Were they super fun to write? Hell yeah. I need to just… relax with editing more and let myself do this more often. I swear some of my better-received fics are when I go "you know what? fuck it" and release it into the world.

Do you have any goals for the new year? Not write as much lolsob. Also finish What Leads You Here along with a handful of WIPs. Maybe even revisit that Celes/Terra WIP if I have time/energy!

Biggest disappointment? Not so much in my own writing, but just lack of engagement with some of my fics. Then again, that's par for the course when you write A) not-so-popular characters, B) gen fic, and C) stories involving death and angsty bits. Also seeing my fluffy G fics doing better than my smutty fics in the 13 Sentinels fandom just… continues to baffle me to this day. It's LITERALLY the only fandom I've ever been in where smut does worse numbers-wise and I don't get it.

Biggest surprise? I wrote something for Critical Role!! I've been a longtime watcher and enjoy the show, but I've done my best to staaaaay away from the fandom 😰 plus I tend to wait until I finish something before I ever consider writing a fic for it, just so I can have the whole picture, so to speak. But one particular episode just set me off and I had to write something to hold me over until the next episode 😭

Most popular story of the year? Most hits/bookmarks? For the Ones That Feel It the Most

Most kudos/subscriptions? Sweet Dreams (why are people subscribing to a oneshot lolsob)

Most comments? What Leads You Here

Ahhh the power of posting fics near the release of a popular thing. And also longfics lol.

What's your own favorite story of the year? I feel like this changes on a daily basis lol I love all of them for different reasons. Lucid has a close place to my heart bc I was Very Upset to find close to no m!Byleth/Gatekeeper fics in an incredibly popular/active fandom. Also really love how Like You, Only Sweeter turned out, which was an incredibly self-indulgent story for me (I just wanted them to smooch)

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion. Nearly all of my 13 Sentinels fics bc the fandom is small and niche lolsob. But also Marinate, which granted, I posted the last week of 2022, but still.

Most fun story to write. What the Water Gave Me, which very quickly snowballed out of control into its own thing. I had a blast writing this mermaid AU and thinking of lore for this world!

Most unintentionally telling story. I'm not sure if this means like… a story that utilized more telling as opposed to showing or just… telling about me as an individual. Either way, I'm genuinely not sure? A lot of aspects of myself are sprinkled across my stories, but isn't any work of art?

My favorite part of fandom this year. WHAT DO YOU MEAN I HAVE TO PICK ONE?????? Meeting so many cool and incredibly talented people. Starting a Discord server with good friends. Applying (and getting accepted!) to a bunch of amazing zine projects. Participating in all the secret santa events and fic exchanges. Being late to a fandom and getting to experience things for the first time. Watching my friend react throughout their 13 Sentinels playthroughs. Collaborating with a lovely art friend to make our own damn zine. Getting to share my longfic with the small, yet vastly passionate community. And just… so so many more moments that made me smile and be forever grateful. If we've interacted at all, even for a brief moment, thank you for making 2022 a little brighter.

[bubblesthemonsterartist]

2022 Creator’s Self-Love Extravaganza

Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 5 favorite works (fics, art, edits, etc.) you’ve created this year and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you’ve brought into the world in 2022. If you don’t have five published works, that’s fine! Include ideas/drafts/whatever you like that you’ve worked on/thought about, and talk a little about them instead! Remember, this is all about self-love and positive enthusiasm, so fuck the rules if you need to. Have fun, and tag as many fellow creators as you like so they can share the love!

@thelionshymnal dug this one up and while they didn't tag me, I felt the tag in my heart. Therefore, I pulled out the original rules with a little under 24 hours before the calendar flips over to a new year, I think I am safe in saying that my word count for the year is complete.

I did not write a lot this year! Comparatively, at least.* A mere 25,682 words have gone to publish. But it's also been a very disruptive year in that I quit my job of 5+ years, got rid of ALL of my stuff that couldn't fit into a tiny car, drove seven days cross country to a New Better Shinier Job (while writing a final paper), rented a 10 x 10 room above a garage for several months where my cat was very kind by not murdering me, dropped everything to sit at my dad's deathbed, went right back to work the following Monday, finished yet another graduate degree, went on a trip to Maine with friends, moved AGAIN to a much larger much more private space, and uhhh... signed up for yet another degree program. Because I have a problem. Clearly. Oh and I also broke a bone for the first time in my life! It's in my foot! I haven't gone out to do ANYTHING other than get groceries for the last two weeks and it sucks!

2022 has been a lot! More good than bad and overall improvement of everything, but a lot! And I've wanted to write. I've thought a lot about it in the moments before falling asleep! But any progress is still progress and my body comes first these days because in this house we practice self-care.

That being said, what I have put out, I've been immensely proud of. So, in no particular order and without further ado...

On the Event of the Annual Lilias Recruit Hazing Final Exam (ans, gen)

I wrote third person limited! For the first time! It was weird but also a fun to write something where the audience only has the interactions and body language to read.

2. where mended hearts meet (obiyuki, 🍋)

While I haven't been writing proper most of the year, I have been obsessing over @onedivinemisfit's camboy!obi au. It's been my personal problem, like, ever since she first introduced the concept for it and I've been screaming about it every chance that I get. Part of me much much wants to write the whole thing, but also acknowledged that I did not have the time. But also also I knew I was not going to be productive about anything at ALL until I wrote at least a little smutty smut for it. I mean, two consenting adults who are very accommodating of one anothers kinks and traumas? Sign me the fuck up, let's do this.

3. Drabble-Drabble 2022 Challenge (multiple fandoms, multiple pairings, all ratings)

Perhaps because I haven't had a chance to really focus on my writing this year, I wanted to do something uncomplicated. I remember loving drabbles back in my livejournal days. Just being absolutely laid out by 100 words precisely. But I'd never tried it myself so I wanted to give it a shot! I asked and y'all sent in around 30 prompts and I answered 26! It was a blast, highly recommend to anyone out there that wants to try their hand at it.

4. Seven Nights, Night 7 (Hakuouki, Yamachi, 🍋)

I had a moment when I went to see the timestamps of the chapters I worked on this year and it was literally just Night 7 of Seven Nights. It's split into three chapters, but it's 14k words just leading up to the final night, I don't even know what to say, y'all. Yamazaki is just real shy and writing two virgins was a lot harder than I thought (and I already thought it was going to be difficult!). I do really love it, though, they're adorable.

5. Stone Soup (Spy x Family, Yor & Yuri)

I would be remiss if I didn't include the final posted fic of the year (and my first foray into the sxf fandom!). Not only did I write a child's pov, I got to incorporate some real mean food feels into it. All together a real good time! XD

Okay! I've done it! I've said the nice things about me! Now I shall tag people, hmmm... @spoonyglitteraunt @sabraeal @claudeng80 @onedivinemisfit @infinitelystrangemachinex and anyone else who wants a go!

*Word count by year since 2016:

2016- 97,273 2017- 167,645 2018- 138,769 2019- 130,429 2020- 126,435 2021- 91,014 2022- 25,682

[herunswithscissors]

None of this stuff is serious or complete and it all comes with a huge helping of "perhaps" and a grain of salt.

Nothing here is meant to be taken as the final word on anything. No matter how sure of myself and arrogant I may sound. I know most of this stuff I write is silly or off-kilter or flawed in major ways.

Caveat is on factual things and stuff in my wheelhouse. My wheelhouse is a network of really big wheelhouses. I know my shit about history, White Supremacy, archeology, paleontology, biology, chemistry, and physics to be able to say some things more authoritatively than others. When I say the Bible is a conglomerate of writings hand-picked by elite super-rich political priests out of all the choices they could have made and that it was assembled to control and inspire military and slaves to do what the rich want us to do, that is a fact. I don't mean

maybe you're right and Paul transcribed what Holy Spirit told him to, word for word, while dictating all those letters late at night and then those letters were carefully preserved and passed down like scriptures in a collection of scriptures that included the Gospels, Acts, Romans, Epistles, and Revelation exactly as they are in your Holman Christian Standard.

But moving on:

This is literally just stuff I thought of while high and wrote down on a tiny phone touch pad with my fumbly middle-aged thumbs in the middle of the night because they sounded like something interesting to think about in the morning. It ain't all coherent. (not that anyone is real coherent while sober either)

So don't look for the flaws. You will no doubt find them. Look for what is new, different, insightful, creative, revolutionary, outrageous, or true. Try to understand the ideas and test those. Maybe each blog entry, as a whole, is a wreck for you. But there will parts that are treasures for you.

It ain't all that earth-shattering or revelatory to the world either, just to me at the time. We are all becoming and we all figure things out or learn things at different times in our lives and often independently of others. Sometimes we really are the first person to think of an idea. Usually not. There are over 5000 years of recorded human thought and at this very moment there are around 8 billion other people. There is going to be a lot of convergent thinking going on. And a whole lot more of me hearing things sometime somewhere but forgetting where I heard it from (because I am a very curious and highly educated person who's been around and thinking for a longish time and it's hard to keep track of where all the shit in my head came from and which I created) from others or getting bits and pieces others worked on first and I had heard/read and then put a few things together in my head thinking it was all me.

So I don't promise they will all be new ideas. But they will all be new ways of looking at them. And I do think you'll find a few real originals in there as I transfer stuff from my gmail drafts over to this.

If I have a weird-ass idea or loving take on things that changes the world for the better, God bless it. But I'm just here to share what my brain spit out while high for our mutual shits and giggles.

Even if I think there might be some really good stuff buried in there for anyone to find if they have the eyes to see and the ears to hear and the heart to understand.