#i'll post some examples tonight

[icarus-suraki]

I have a small(ish) collection of witchcraft books, all of which I got for free when someone dropped them off as a library donation (we weren't going to add them to the collection, so I just took 'em). And I keep debating about passing them on to whoever might want them because, like, I'm not doing anything with them. They're just hanging out and taking up space. Most of the titles are still in print. A lot of them are basic Llewellyn publications. One is just a basic Big Blue Buckland. A number of them are by Cunningham or Campanelli (and Silver Ravenwolf lmao). So it's not like they're rare books.

But then I'll flip through one just to see if it should stay or go and I'll come across the most ridiculous made-up nonsense Golden Bough "secret European witch cult" sacred feminine bullshit that I have seen in many a year and I'm like "Fuck. Now I want to keep it."

[weaselle]

i had to make a solution for this for myself, mostly because of depression, but it makes a nice How To for folks who are low on spoons or could use some help in the kitchen.

Fortunately i was a professional cook for over a decade. UNfortunately the first post i made explaining it was suuuuper long. Let's see if i can do better

So you select any protein that you can cook in a frying pan -- chicken breasts, ground beef, pork chops, sausages, steak, chicken thighs, whatever. You also select one or two types of veggie (mushrooms or tubers also work, i just did this with potatoes and carrots for dinner tonight).

[i like cooking for vegetarians, but this is how i cook for myself when i'm low on spoons - perhaps i'll do another post for meatless meals]

You'll also need some kind of oil, and a sauce or two of your choice in a bottle. All cooking gear is a large frying pan with lid (i prefer non-stick) a spatula, a cutting board, and a knife.

You cut the veggies into bite size pieces, cut up enough for two meals. One kind of veggie is fine, or you can do mix two or three

Put frying pan on medium heat with a little oil. Tubers or mushrooms or go in the pan a few minutes before the protein. 2 portions of the protein goes in the pan, about 5 minutes with lid (don't worry you can still get a good sear on both sides)

Now flip your protein if it's flip-able and add normal veggies, put the lid back on another five-ish minutes.

Take your protein out and put it with one portion of the veggies in a microwave safe container. That's going to be your lunch tomorrow. Put the other portion of protein on a plate to rest (you have to let a cooked protein sit a couple minutes before you serve it or when you cut into it all the juices run out and it goes dry - the liquids thicken as it cools, preventing this drying out if you let it rest, the goal is to serve it very warm but not hot hot)

While it's resting, pour some sauce from your bottle in the pan with the rest of the veggies and turn up the heat. A single sauce/bottle is fine, i like to get fancy and mix a couple. Two examples of personal favorite mixes are 1: bbq sauce and a hot sauce like sriracha 2: roughly equal parts low sodium soy sauce and worcestershire (makes something similar to a teriyaki sauce) A swallow of wine is almost always a great option if you want to add that to your sauce too, just add it to the pan before the other sauces so the alcohol has time to burn off.

...

Here is the important bit. While your veggies are finishing, wash your cutting board and chef knife. Then when you dump your veggies and sauce over your protein on the plate, while it is still too hot to eat, you wash your frying pan and spatula before you eat. Now the only dishes you have left to do are your plate and fork. Maybe a steak knife.

...

The whole thing takes about 35 minutes even with washing the dishes, and that includes your lunch for the next day- just pour a different sauce on and stick it in the microwave for a couple minutes (or five minutes back in the frying pan) and you have a full healthy lunch with a different flavor

You can use this technique every single meal and it yields hundreds of combinations, from pork and potatoes bbq, to salmon and broccoli teriyaki, to chicken and zucchini in a soy glaze.

It will keep you down to less than an hour of kitchen time per day total for both lunch and dinner including all dish clean up, uses the least dishes, the least effort, requires the least technique, and is, depending on what you pick out, very affordable

here are a couple more examples from this month; i didn’t take pictures of the salmon i did recently, but you get the idea

it's not super fancy, but it is easy, affordable, quick, and any flavors you want. Hope this helps some folks

Happy Cooking!

[fromgoy2joy]

Let's write about Jewish characters in dynamic ways- that make it clear "Yes this is us. Yes, we are living our lives with this happiness and ritual, and we love it. "

Like it's so easy to write about, to have casual observances of Judaism and cultural practices be in the background of stories. I'll write of the few examples I can think of in my frame of reference as a college student-

there's a mezuza in the doorway of a college kid's apartment. Whenever his friends come over, it's a reach for some of them to touch it because both he and the rabbi who installed it are 6 foot three. The others feel like a middle school boy slapping the ceiling as they try and reach for the damn thing.

Characters rush on public transport to get to a rabbi's house on shabbat. The train is due. There's a flurry of regrouping, then trying to call a missing friend to get there, and then the process of methodically hiding Magen davids and jewish objects because getting to shabbat dinner without a situation was an order from college Hillel staff.

A character is half-drunk at 2 AM at the convenience store but has to scan the list of ingredients on their chemically disgusting snack for gelatin.

Said character is prevented by her friends from only sustaining herself on 7/11 slushees "even though it's all kosher!"

There are references to the Purim incident constantly- it is never clarified what happened on Purim.

the hypothetical gang of characters are in the middle of nowhere on a grand magical adventure. The main character notices a mezuza on a door of a cabin, knocks on it, and has an in-depth conversation with the resident. Then, he waves his friends over. "Hey, guys! We have a place to stay tonight!" Because through the magic of Jewish geography, it was discovered that the grumpy old Jewish man in the woods is the grand uncle of one of his Jewish Day school teachers

A character who eats cheesy bacon bagels regularly on passover has a deep respect for jewish ritual items. He kisses the siddurim as they're handed back into a pile, he always kisses his kippah that he wears for ritual purposes of shabbats and minions. He's very careful with these objects and keeps on claiming dropping something He is observant, and he cares so much, but not in the "typical" way. Just... please show the nuance in practice.

The big "going out night" for our fearless college student isn't Friday but saturday night because of shabbat.

The stain on the rabbi's couch is not to be mentioned

A character keeps on mentioning the stain anyway.

Jewish goodbyes after any event take a minimum of two hours and that's why the gang is delayed on their journey to save the world .

I want more representation than characters in novels saying "haha I'm jewish but eat bacon and love Christmas!" in such flat ways. Please feel free to add more hypothetical ways of representation in the comments !!! About or inspired by your own life and experiences ! Let's make this post vibrant!

[lupinsversion]

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐋𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 - 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞𝐬

• summary: reader forces remus to do a couples costume for a halloween party.

• a/n: okay but remus as beast boy??? also, almost forgot to post today whoops. but starting on nov first, i’m going to slow my posting down due to holidays approaching and i have a trip i need to plan for.

• contains: remus lupin x fem reader, established relationship, fluff, couple costumes, modern au so the costumes will make sense lol

• word count: 1.1k

masterlist || requests

October, the best month of the year for parties in the Gryffindor common room with Halloween right around the corner. Originally this party idea came straight from Sirius and James, and must to Remus’ dislike, she was forcing him into a couples costume.

Now, she tried to keep it simple… at least on his part. Beast Boy and Raven. He wouldn’t need much, just a pair of Sirius’ black jeans that barely fit him, James’ black hoodie with a purple t-shirt thrown over it. But the worst part was trying to get his face painted an olive green color, and spray his hair with some temporary color.

That leads them to now. She already did her makeup and placed the short purple wig perfectly on her head. She wasn’t fully dressed yet, just wearing her fishnet stockings with some random articles of clothing over it until she was ready to put on the rest of her costume. She held Remus’ chin as he sat, brushing some of the color evenly over his face.

Remus sat there, clearly unhappy with the whole situation. He felt absolutely ridiculous and was sure that he looked so dumb with green paint all over his face. James and Sirius were standing nearby, giggling and commenting on how ridiculous he looked, and Remus wasn’t having it. He sighed heavily and shut his eyes as she held his chin. "Did you have to choose Beast Boy?" He whined, slightly grumpy.

“I thought it was fitting.” She teased, a small hint of a smile on her face. “It could’ve been a lot worse.”

"It could have been a lot better too." He continued to whine and complain. His green face was a clear example of how disgruntled he felt, though he was secretly glad to be matched with Raven. The choice could have indeed been worse, but it was still far from his favorite option.

“Oh, shush… and stop moving, I’m almost done.” She grumbled as she continued to spread the green color onto his cheeks.

He grudgingly complied, ceasing his fidgeting and letting her work. He knew that no amount of whining or complaining would be able to change her mind, and he wasn’t really going to protest against her. His eyes scanned her fishnet stockings, admiring the outfit she had chosen.

“Stop being so grumpy, you’re not the only green haired man tonight… look at James.” She commented as Lily was currently spraying James’ messy trenches a brighter shade of green for their matching costumes of Cosmo and Wanda.

He couldn’t help but let out an amused chuckle at the sight of James, looking all goofy with bright green hair. "Alright, I suppose it could be worse.” He admitted, finally complying and allowing her to continue painting his face.

“Or you could’ve been Sirius and be barnacle man.” She mused.

Remus grimaced at the thought, shuddering slightly. "Alright, alright, I concede. Beast Boy isn't so bad after all. I'll stop being grumpy, I promise." He chuckled lightly, finally giving in to the whole costume theme.

“Thank you.” She cooed before pecking his lips quickly once she finished.

He smiled softly as she pecked his lips, feeling his annoyance melt away at her light touch. Though he wasn't entirely on board with the costume idea, the simple peck made him realize he just wanted to have a fun night with her and the rest of their friends.

“I’m going to go get dressed, and I swear for the life of me… do not, and I mean do not, mess your look up.”

He rolled his eyes, pretending to be annoyed. "I wasn't going to." He replied with a hint of feigned indignation. "I'll be right here when you get back, just go and get ready." He waved his hand in the air, shooing her away.

She walked towards the bathroom, but not going in without a look that screamed ‘I’m watching you.’

He couldn't help but chuckle at her disapproving look, knowing she was keeping an eye on him. Once she disappeared into the bathroom, Remus shook his head with a small smile. He took one look at himself in the mirror and made a face, still somewhat unsatisfied with his appearance.

“Hey, Prongs, do you think I look stupid?” Remus asked, suddenly concerned about his costume. James looked up from his own green-colored hair and let out a small chuckle. “You look okay, Moony. Just embrace your inner beast.” He responded jokingly, teasingly patting Remus on the head.

James’ cheeky grin did little to alleviate Remus’ concern about his appearance.

But Sirius, ever the prankster, couldn’t resist joining in on the fun. He approached Remus playfully and looked him up and down, pretending to scrutinize his appearance very seriously, with a hint of mocking amusement evident.

“You look like a frog, Moony. A green, frogish beast with no fashion sense,” Sirius declared dramatically, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Remus glared at Sirius before retorting, "Very funny, Padfoot. Thank you for your valuable input."

"Well, you did ask." Sirius grinned wickedly, pretending to be quite pleased with himself.

James, not wanting to be left out of the fun, chimed in with a grin. "I think you look like a broccoli." He teased, unable to resist adding to the banter.

She exited the bathroom then fully dressed, her look complete with a black bodysuit over her fishnet stockings with a belt loosely around her waist, topped with a velvet feeling cape.

Remus' gaze fixed on her, and his breath hitched in his chest as he took in her costume. The black bodysuit and fishnet leggings showed off her curves, and the cape gave her an air of mystery. He swallowed thickly, his eyes wide with appreciation for her stunning look.

The playful banter between the boys ceased as they all turned to look at her, their words momentarily suspended in surprise and admiration. James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. "Wow.” He murmured, his gaze fixed on her.

Sirius let out a low whistle, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. "I don't know whether to be impressed or jealous." He chimed in, his usual playfulness laced with genuine intrigue.

Remus couldn't take his eyes off her, still in slight awe of how she managed to look so stunning and mysterious simultaneously. Though the initial skepticism about the costume idea had dissolved, he couldn't deny that she was truly rocking the whole Raven look.

"You look...incredible." He finally found his voice, breaking the silence that had enveloped the group. He felt his lips curving into a smile, unable to tear his eyes away from her.

Sirius, unable to resist a bit of comic relief, suddenly chimed in. With a playful grin, he tapped his knee-length socks and adjusted his eye mask. "Alright, Raven, you might be the mysterious, broody one tonight, but can we talk about how ridiculous I look?" He joked, his tone laced with faux indignity.

Everyone laughed as she gave a sympathetic pat to the side of Sirius’ head.

© lupinsversion 2024

[mycatishandsome]

How I Shift: a step-by-step

So to start, I want to remind ya'll that what works for me, can and wil work for you, if you assume it will.

For context, I like to believe that the multiverse theory is true, but like mixing it in with the LOA (3D/4D/etc.) theory. I could sit here all day and talk and talk about those theories, but that's not what this post is about. If you scroll on my blog, you'll find plenty of posts that can do it better than I.

SO, where do we begin?

1.) As an obvious start, it's good to pick where it is you'd like to shift/ what you'd like to shift into this "reality". It's not super necessary, but it's great to reaffirm where it is your going/what you're bringing in.

2.) I like shifting at night (like most others), so before a shift, something I'll do is carve out a bit of time to go through my Pinterest boards. This is a great way to visualize what you want (what you technically already have) This is also great for my non-visualizers (or just those who have trouble doing it on the spot). it's a great way to reaffirm.

3.) Then depending on my DR, I'll choose an ambiance sound that is related (for example: star wars-space/ship sounds, harry potter-train sounds, pirates??? ships creaking/wind)(also sounds can be super broad, like rain/thunderstorm sounds) personally, I feel like ambience is crazy helpful for me (as I assume it is).

-The way I see it, and how I use it: The sounds I'm hearing ambiance wise, are the sounds I hear in my DR as well. They will not distract me! I have animals and loud roommates. Rather than sit there and get annoyed, i think to myself, "wow my house mates are rowdy tonight" in my DR. I apply those sounds TO my DR. This goes for the ambiance as well!

4.) At this point, I then pick how I'm going to meditate. So because I have autism, I tend to use the same two mediations because it's what I'm comfortable with (and they help me the best!) I'll tag them here :)

I start with this one: Law of Assumption meditation

Then listen to this one immediately after: Law of Assumption Meditation part 2

I listen to these one after the other using an app called musi. I set them to a timer so i don't have to stop a playlist or anything, just set it and go!

5.) I sometimes strait up fall asleep and shift, and sometimes i shift during these meditations. It often depends on how my mind set is, as sometimes I've had a tough day, or i just can't stop thinking about the exam i have tomorrow. Generally when I feel like this, I listen to another meditation before these other two. I don't have a specific one to link, i usually just look up 10 minute meditations. These will usually help me to relax and empty my mind.

Notice how none of these are shifting meditations. if you think it will work for you, then it will! I've always found that even when i was in the right mindset, shifting meditations were very.....not what shifting is. I always felt like they played against what i was trying to achieve. I'm sure there are some that are great and incredibly helpful!! I personally just haven't found that one yet. Shifting is generally simple, and to the point, there's no need to use complicated steps. (ONCE AGAIN, UNLESS you find they work for you! in your reality they may work just fine!)

I hope this helps, or at the very least gives some of ya'll some ideas on what to try!

Happy shifting!

[vitzi9]

Could you do a story but with male reader pleasee <3

Come out, come out

Creepy!Ethan Landry x Male!Reader

Masterlist if you want to read my other things.

CW/TW: Phone-sex, sub!Ethan, AMAB Reader, stalker Ethan, dirty talk from Ethan (like really), reader has a dick and has he/him pronouns, FILTHY

(put me in jail)

Been dead for months and came back to life for some smut, what a life man (I do not respect myself)

I didn't know if you meant male reader as in AMAB or else so I post this and I'll probably do others where reader's genitals parts are not specified.

05/05/2024 (3147 words)

Your relationship with Ethan was not the easiest. He was hard to understand, for anyone really. You’ve known each other for a few months, been really close as well. Chad, his roommate, was often absent. Whether working or out with friends. While Ethan was calmer, learning his lessons and globally just more insecure to go out that much.

Of course you’d offer to come to his place when he was bored or wanted to hang out with you. You met in class, you were paired together for a project and became good friends ever since. Ethan and you spent almost every afternoon after class at his place, talking, working or watching movies. He wasn’t an open man, for example, he categorically refuses you to enter his room. Though Chad, who you stumbled upon one day before he left for his girlfriend’s, assured you he was forbidden to enter as well.

Ethan was a private man, you did not know anything about his family or love interest, you did not even know whether he liked you or not, as you sure started to like him. How could you not ? He was kind, nerdy, smart and handsome. Sadly, you believed he never thought about you that way.

Until one night, after a movie session that exhausted you both, you found yourself cuddling on the couch, dizzy and half conscious.

It started when two men on screen start getting closer and closer to each other. You know how there's more gays showed on TV, sometimes you hate it because people look at you weird when this shows up, like you're the one who fucking put it in the movie.

But tonight, you hated it even more because your crush was here.

The worst is not knowing if Ethan is gay or not. Straight men love to laugh about gay sex, (why, you don't know but maybe it's funny) it's possible for him to start saying things like "Aha gay funny and weird aha peepee in the ass" or some shit. But Ethan's finger, who was on the cushion between you, inches towards your thigh. Confused, you tried to read his face but his eyes were solely in the screen, cheeks burning red.

It escalated quickly from there, he pulled you onto his lap, his hands were groping your ass, your lips on his, you touching his chest, his tongue against yours. You did not have sex with him as Chad came back in the middle of you humping his roommate, interrupting you and forcing you to separate from each other. You also did not have sex with him seeing as the next day he avoided you like the plague. You never actively told him of your attraction for men, but never hid it either. You left clues, small interactions when you’d mention finding someone handsome, never speaking about women you find sexy or, whatever straight men usually talk about. But you think you showed it enough that night.

Ethan, on the other hand, kept his love life pretty secret from you.

He never mentioned any crush or exes, whether it was men or women. Ethan could be friends with anyone, yes, you know that gay men could be friends with men as well but you were getting desperate to find out what he really was so you were taking what you could. What if he has a crush on Chad ? It was possible, after all. Or maybe he was talking to men online, you never know. But he could also very well talk to women online, and have a crush on a girl somewhere.

Ethan is cute, he’s sexy, even. Of course you’d be devastated after your kiss. He ignored you ! You read online of straight men trying things with men only for the thrill of it, to know how it is and everything but you never experienced it for yourself. Ethan isn’t like that, right ? Has he even had any partner before ? You don’t remember it.

It's dragging your own feet that you enter your apartment. Shoulders tensed and legs burning. Taking out your keys out of your pocket, you inch them towards the door only to let them drop on the ground. You sigh, feeling your nerves on the edge of exploding.

You crouch down, picking them up before putting it in the keyhole only for the key to be stuck. You frown and, confused, you push the door. It opens with no resistance.

What the... ? You didn't lock the door ? What crossed your mind this morning ! In such a crazy city no less ! But as there's no signs of any intruder being here or having been here, you simply unprepare yourself in the bathroom before enjoying a shower.

Drying up quickly, you realize having forgotten your pajamas in your bedroom. Towel around the waist, you search tiredly in your closet for any clothes you can sleep in. Seeing none, you question yourself about where you last put them. Did you put them in the washing machine ? You don't remember. Then where are your damn pajamas ? At one point, you grab a simple shirt before going back to the bathroom.

You place the towel on the heater for it to dry up but in doing so you take a look at yourself in the mirror. You frown.

What's that ? That's not your t-shirt ? You take it between your index and thumb, creasing the fabric. When was the last time you invited someone over ? Did it belong to one of your exes's ? You can't seem to remember.

You sniff it for a second, even if the odds were low, that maybe the person's smell would still be there. It's not, well, you don't think it is anyway. It smells clean, not a perfume, more like simple laundry.

As long as it's clean ! And nobody ever asked you to give it back so... Guess it's yours now. Before leaving for the kitchen, you check the pile of dirty clothes in your closet, learning with surprise that a lot of your supposed clean clothes are in it.

Okay, you're definitely going crazy to forget such things.

You rub your face, trying to wake you up before finally going to the kitchen. Phone is discarded on the counter while you search for anything good in the fridge. But a ringing followed by numerous vibrations grabs your attention away. Dragging your feet to your phone, you're confused at the sigh of a number you previously erased, waning to forget it.

Ethan Landry.

Ethan is calling you, you know it because you memorized his number. You let the ringtone pass, hoping he would give up. When your vocal messaging informed him to leave a message, you thought he would finally send you a text and let it go. But he called again, and again. Until you pick up, after the third call.

Only to be greeted by utter silence.

Great, he harasses you by phone and doesn't talk. What is wrong with him ? He better have good excuses.

“Ethan ? you ask, confused. A throat clearing on the other hand of the call is the only proof of his presence.

-Uh, hi, man. How, uh, how are you doing ? he asks, more awkward than ever. He’s out of breath.

Weird, why is he talking like that ? You check the time with a frown, he’s probably still in public transport, hence his breathless state. It’s Wednesday, the day he goes for errants. That’s probably where he was.

-I’m fine, man." You insisted particularly on the last word. "How are you doing ? Why the late call ? " It’s not that late by any means, it’s only 7PM (19h) but it’s confusing coming from him, especially after his long absence.

-I was just… Checking, I guess. It’s been a while.

Of course it has, he’s the one who ghosted you.

-Right, that's not really my fault though…” Awkward. What's he going to say now ? What does he really want ?

-Yeah, I kind of panicked, I guess. Sorry about that." And that's it. His sole excuse is "I panicked". Great. Nice. He clearly cares for you a lot ! How could you crush on this guy ?

You’re able to hear crumplings on his side, which makes you ask yourself whether he is really in transports or already home. Though, there is no way you’ll ask him directly, that’ll make him believe you still think about him and remember his week’s schedule. Which you do, you still think about him and know his damn schedule. Ethan takes a deep breath, as if to instill courage into himself.

“It’s gonna sound weird, I’m aware. He pauses, preparing you (or himself) to his next words. Can you just talk to me ? You can tell me anything, really.

-What ?

-I can't sleep.

Is that a good or bad thing that he thought about you before sleeping ? You’d say bad, as he ignored you for weeks before, visibly, deciding he needed you enough to come back.

-Wow, I’m flattered you thought about me to fall asleep. You say ironically. Am I that boring ?

-No, you’re not… You’re not boring. He gulps his saliva. Just talk to me, please. I like your voice.

Something’s wrong with his voice. It’s like he remains out of breath. Maybe he’s running ? He’s a strong man, he’s probably doing a marathon or something. Wait, what are you talking about, he said he needed to sleep. He’s not running at all. Then what the hell ?

-Ethan, are you sure you’re okay ? You sound weird. What are you doing ?

-Nothing, he says, but you clearly hear him exhaling a long puff of air out of his nose. I think I’m a little sick.

-Ethan ? you ask again, resulting in him coughing after, you guess, badly swallowing his own saliva.

-Just talk to me, okay ? I’m on the edge of sleeping. Particular choice of words, Ethan.

-I don’t have anything to say, honestly. I worked today, that’s all.

-Tell me all about it.

You’re a cashier, there is literally nothing interesting enough to brag about. People are mean to you, others are nice. Being a cashier is long and boring.

-Helen, you know the girl with short hair I told you about, you start after seeing he wouldn’t let go. Ethan simply hums. She dropped the big pile of canned goods at the entrance and it fell on an old woman. She threatened to sue us.”

After this, you simply told him all about your day, even the most boring stuff. It was nice to have someone listening to you after a long day, on the other hand, it was Ethan you were talking to. Never had he interrupted you, only sometimes humming at your words or letting some kind of throaty sound out, making you aware he was still awake.

Sometimes as well, he would inhale, or exhale, louder, as if falling in and out of sleep.

But most of the time, his sheets would crease under him due to his constant movements. You don't know, but he seems agitated. Maybe he had a hard day ?

“...but he told me it was my job to clean after him ! I’m a cashier, not a slave. I told him I’d call the manager and, of course, he got escorted out. Seriously, people are so impolite, why do they think it’s okay to look down on me ? He did not answer, did he finally fall asleep ?

-Ethan ?” you ask, almost whispering.

He’s not sleeping, you realize. You clearly still hear his frantic breathing, he’s talking, too. You can’t quite understand but it looks like curses. “Ethan ?” you call. Putting the call on speaker, you listen carefully to each sound coming from him. What the hell is he doing ? Your ear catches another sound, lower, distant but very much here. Confusion paints your face, you approach your ear on the screen hoping to hear better.

Faint, swift wet sounds paired with his frantic breathing create an image of Ethan you never thought you’d hear. You can only think about one thing, him laying on his bed, jerking off talking to you.

This can’t be real. Ethan, it’s Ethan on the phone. He’s not a creep. He’s a shy man, and most of all, he’s straight. Ethan can’t be attracted to you, right ? Your heart is pounding in your rib cage from panic, stress, excitation; everything at once.

“Ethan are you fucking touching yourself over me right now ? he quietly moans.

-Yes, yes I am. Please don’t hang up, just… Just wait a little bit, please." His phone hits something, probably his chest, because now all you hear are the wet movements of his hand on his member.

Is it you or is it getting kind of hot in there ?

You stare at the wall, completely lost and overwhelmed by the situation, eyes not wanting to close. Ethan is jerking off on the phone, right now. He’s moaning, having stopped hiding by now. Is it a red flag ? It’s sort of weird to masturbate on the phone with someone not even aware of it. Ethan mutters something sounding like a question, you gulp, regaining your senses and asking him to repeat.

-I need to suck your dick really bad.

Oh !

Heat spread throughout your whole body in a generalized shiver at his words. You were absolutely burning from the inside. It’s now necessary to choose or you won’t be able to later. Are you really turned on or are you just missing being desired ? Are you excited by Ethan or do you just like the idea of him finally returning your affection ? You wouldn't have been turned on if your ex told you he's been touching himself and not even listening to you, in fact, you would have got angry and humiliated. But it's Ethan and you won't meet a man like him ever again.

-Face-time me, he pleads.

Taking your phone away from your ear, you click on the camera icon without thinking. Immediately, his clothed legs appear as well as his dick, your eyes going as wide as saucers. His jogging pants are soaked, it’s sticking to his skin through the fabric. Your member twitches in your pants, one of your hands quiver closer to it.

-Look at me, he whispers.

How many times has he came already ? And was it on the phone ? You didn’t even hear him ! His dick is shiny with cum, his hand is sliding on the tip, holding it firmly. His sighs only grow louder and louder. Backing against the counter, you start rubbing your dick through your pants, enthralled by the scene before you.

All of this, just for you ?

-I’m sorry, he whimpers, I’m sorry. I… His hips move against his hand to follow the movement but he moves so fast that his dick slips out of his hold, resulting in a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. Seeing him acting so desperate has you putting your hand in your pants immediately.

-I shouldn’t have ghosted you. He mutters, fueling your ego by finally obtaining remorse from him. It’s bad, but you’re so damn horny right now you’re drinking his words. We should’ve fucked that day…

-Yeah, you sigh dreamily, we should've.

-Let me see it, let me see your dick. With such hungry words, you can’t do much but oblige. You lower your pants enough to take out your cock, pointing the camera at it. Ethan moans, his hand going down to play with his balls. Knew you’d be sexy.

Fuck, the effect he has on you was almost worrying. You were so down bad for him, glad he’s in the same situation. Knowing he thought about you like that for a moment as well was so sexy you could burst in your pants.

Blinking slowly with eyes hazed by desire, you notice his legs moving to the side, spreading open. You now realize, even if it’s logical, that he’s in his room and that you’ve never seen it before. He displayed lot of posters on his walls, it's dark so it's hard to see what is it. Looking haphazardly around him, your eyes widen in confusion, curiosity replacing horniness for a brief moment.

Something caught your eyes in his room, you did not notice it until now as his dick was honestly more important than anything, but a book is on his bed. Your hand slows its movements on your member, utterly unhinged by its content. It’s not a book but a photo album, it’s disgustingly stained with cum and the picture in it is well too familiar for your liking.

-Ethan, is that…

My face ? you thought, not having enough strength to end your sentence.

-Yeah, he moans, so sexy like that. You’re so sexy when you don’t know I’m here. So handsome. My man, mine, so sexy.

What ?

-Want you to cum on my face like I cum on yours. His hand rubs frenetically at his dick. I’d... I'd swallow it all for you, he sighs. Want to be all yours. Forever. He ends his sentence on a shaky note, making you believe he was on the verge on coming.

His movements gained speed, wet sounds invading both his place and yours. You were second guessing everything really hard.

-Want to be your cumdump for you to use when you want...” Getting chill from his words, you hang up on the spot, throwing your phone on the counter before you. Looking down, you stare at your semi soft member, suddenly feeling disgusted by what you did. You get dressed up again, putting a hand on your tummy as if to prevent you from throwing up.

What the hell was that ?

Since when did Ethan… How did he… Why… He was jerking off to pictures of you ? What is wrong with him ? At one point, Ethan must have finished his business as your phone vibrates on the counter. You send daggers at it, not wanting to look at it one bit. But somehow, you do anyway, only to regret it instantly after. He sent you a photo.

A photo of that damned book, your head close-up full of his cum with his dick on the lower part of the screen, followed by a smiling emoji. You stare at it for a while, asking yourself at which point were you supposed to guess that Ethan was a psychopath. After some seconds, he sends you another text, one you almost shiver over.

“What do you think about coming over tomorrow ?“

[yanderenightmare]

any more writing advice? the last one was so helpful!

Writing Advice, Part Two

oh yeah, for sure!

I covered improving language and wording in the last post.

In this post, I'll first focus on constructing balanced sentences and text and then move on to more fundamentals of story writing, mainly the power of persuasion.

Alternate the length of your sentences. Here’s an example from an old post of mine: “He’s bad. He doesn’t try to be, but he’s lost count of how many times he’s promised to be better, only to break someone's heart. He’s controlling and possessive, prone to jealousy and harsh words. He can’t handle seeing something that’s supposed to be his with someone else—be it a friend, a coworker, or even the fucking cashier at the supermarket. He just can’t accept it. In his rational, he knows it’s beyond stupid, but his gut still fizzles with rage, and his heart twists and hardens up like a fist—he just can’t help it. His emotions are stronger than his reason.”  Notice how the sentences alternate from short to long, then longer and short again? This gives it that rhythm that makes it smoother to read. If all the sentences were long, it would be tedious and tiring to read, and if all the sentences were short, it would feel bumpy, like someone was constantly hitting the breaks.

Additionally, if we take the same example and you’re like me and enjoy running sentences, you’ll want to create this rhythm with pauses such as em dashes and commas to help the reader slow down. Em dashes are also perfect for introducing a character's thoughts, like this: “Manicured hands tussled in his pretty white locks, pulling on him while sucking each other’s faces, leeching off the feeling of his hands grabbing your waist—oh god, it feels good to be wanted again.”

Another standard piece of advice is to avoid starting your sentences with the same word. Especially when you’re writing actions, it’s easy to fall into the habit of “He did this. He did that. He said this. You reacted like this. You responded like that. You then did this.” but as you’re getting annoyed reading this, it’s safe to say it’s not a very good habit. Example:  “C’mon—you’re angry, aren’t you?” he asks with a quirked brow. He pauses for a moment, then states, “What better way to stick it to him than fucking the hottest guy around?” You’re stunted by this. You suppose that had been exactly what your objectives were tonight, unknowingly and much to your shame. You can at least find some mediocre solace in your next words. “I’m not that kinda girl,” you confess. It’s kind of awkward to read, right? Here it is again, fixed: “C’mon—you’re angry, aren’t you?” he asks with a quirked brow. “What better way to stick it to him than fucking the hottest guy around?” It stunts you. Suppose that had been your exact objectives tonight, unknowingly and much to your shame. At least you can find some mediocre solace in your next confession, for as it turns out, “I’m not that kinda girl.” It’s smoother, isn’t it? It’s essentially the same sentences relaying the same actions and inner thoughts, but with rearranged words making it just the right amount of different.

Also, trust your reader! In the same example, you can see that unnecessary sentences and words have been scrapped as they’re already implied by context. Let your readers read between the lines! Too much explanation becomes tedious, especially when that information isn’t all that important.

Additionally, in the same spirit, you need to be careful where you put your details. Of course, you can approach a scene by vividly explaining everything, from character A’s freckles to the tiny scar they have on their chin or the fact that they have pierced ears but aren’t wearing any earrings. All of that detail is nice, and there are times to get into it, but if it serves no purpose to the current scene then it shouldn’t be brought up. If said character A is being observed by character B, then those descriptive details serve a purpose. But if character A is at home, then those details become redundant. Your reader is always looking for clues, so when the writer throws in details and descriptions that serve no value, it’s only going to confuse the reader—worst case, even pull them out of the story. “Character A is as kind as she is beautiful—everybody who knows her loves her. Oh, and she has a dog.” Unless that dog serves a purpose in the story, it’s an unnecessary detail. The same goes for giving your characters specific outfits and such. Facts without further value should be taken away. They only serve to distract the reader and distort the writing.

This next tip is kind of complex, but it pertains to a story’s power of persuasion. It goes without saying that any story’s main goal is to convince the reader of its characters and plot integrity and credibility. In layman's terms, shit has to make sense. For example, you can’t introduce character A as a bully without reason, nor can you suddenly give them an unexplained or inconsistent soft side. Even though we enjoy bullies with a soft side. You need to sell us the narrative and answer our curiosities. Why is he a bully? Why is he nicer to character B? What makes character B special? Try to fill as many plotholes as you can, and if not, then address their absurdity or try to avoid making them in the first place. Examples of this: Filling the plothole—A bullies because of his inferiority complex caused by his obvious lack of academic skill, but B is A’s childhood friend and is therefor the only one spared. (Here, everything is given a reason behind it.) Addressing the plothole—B doesn’t know why A bullies the way he does nor why he’s different with them… he’s just always been that way. (Here, things are still shrouded in mystery, but since we’re seeing it from B’s perspective, it makes sense that we wouldn’t know the whole story.) Avoiding the plothole—A’s a born bully. Growing up the way he did, it would be surprising if he ended up any different. A doesn’t treat B any different—they’re just another loser making themselves an easy target. However, unexpectedly, B fights back. A is flabbergasted by this new development. An interest in B blossoms in A. (This one is similar to filling the plothole, but instead of providing backstory, it makes a plot out of what would have been a pothole.)

I tend to see plotholes like this in a lot of character-x-reader fanfics. They usually stem from a writer's decision to treat the reader as someone special without giving them any characteristics or extraness that would make them special in that universe. “Character A was captivated by readers beauty in a single glance,” isn’t very convincing or satisfying or any amount of original. Of course, it depends! Though there are exceptions, usually, banking the entirety of character A’s obsession with reader on their looks is relatively boring and questionable. Again, in laymen’s terms, it just doesn’t make much sense—after all, there are a million other fish in the sea. What makes the reader's beauty any different from any other person on the street? This is the unanswered question readers will be left with. Even though it would be nice to believe my beauty trumps everyone else's—it isn't very believable. As such, the story loses it's power of persuasion. So! Make the reader special in ways that would make them different in the universe you’re writing—and not something so superficial or unconvincing such as their unmatched looks. That being said, it doesn’t need to be anything groundbreaking and nor should it, as that as well can break the fragile element of believability we’re trying to maintain. Don’t make reader the most special person in the world—that’s cringe and otherwise unconvincing. Avoid this by lowering the bar and making them special to character A specifically, not the entire universe.

Here are some examples of this with characters from fandoms:

BNHA To Bakugou, Deku, and Overhaul, a quirkless reader would be special. To Shinso and Aizawa, a reader with a cat quirk would be special. To Shigaraki, a reader with a nullification quirk would be special. To Hawks, a reader with a bird quirk would be special. To any of the characters, a reader with a quirk that compliments, contrasts, or is similar would be special.

JJK To Gojo, Sukuna, and Mahito, for different reasons, a reader with a nullification technique would be special. To Geto, a reader without cursed energy (monkey) would be special. To any of the characters, a curse reader would be special. Especially if you make them compliment the characters. Example text here.

Here are some other classic examples:

Childhood friends Rivals Roommates Neighbors Brother or sister's friend Classmates Coworkers B works at a place A frequents Assignment partners Arranged marriage

Also, dynamic contrasts work well:

Royalty x commoner Jock x nerd Boss x secretary Beauty x beast

More examples of tropes here

Now, I’m not saying a reader has to be made special. Character A can like them for any dull reason, such as accidentally bumping into them on the street. But! If you’re going to preach about how special the reader is, then there had better be a better reason than “they’re prettier and kinder than everyone else,” as that feels superficial, boring, and most importantly, unbelievable.

I suppose, especially when it pertains to this, believability is a lot related to what's relatable. If your reader-character is the kindest, most beautiful person in the world, then your readers' relatability to that character is most likely drastically stretched. And maintaining the power of persuasion becomes hard.

Again, there are exceptions to this! Sometimes it works! Sometimes, that's the fantasy, and it's done perfectly!

But! Just food for thought, you can always ask yourself, “Is this convincing? Do the characters and their actions make sense? Are there any details that are there just for fun? Do they serve a purpose? Does anything feel out of place, awkward, or cringe?”

Asking these questions and altering your story depending on the answers will help you maintain your story's power of persuasion, which tends to separate good writing from unfinished writing riddled with plotholes and tedious information.

[giveafike]

Hi can you write Ben Shelton x fem reader where reader is also a pro player and her and Ben are like close friends and team up to play mixed doubles in like the us open and it's kinda like friends to lovers and they being all flirty on court and eventually admit feelings to each other?

TLDR: STORY! Tennisplayer!fem reader x Ben Shelton friends to lovers. Sort of took them flirty on and off court. Tried to build it up. Mention of Bryan Shelton and Tommy Paul cameo, thanks for stopping by, kings.

Word count + info: 17.6k! SUPER LONG STORYTIME w dialogue! (over an hour's worth of reading, ouu you're well fed tonight)

Character Inspo: Just a sweet girl, like "girl-next-door" girl. Listened to "After the First Kiss" - Faye Webster writing this (cried on first listen, enjoy the link), if that helps you envision sweet, cute, pure vibes. No specifications are mentioned (except a general "shorter" height than Ben).

Warnings + Content Ahead: SFW - no warnings - slight mention of cheating and gaslighting.

Azzie Notes ✚: Hi my sweet munchkins! I'm so sorry anon, this took so long to come out but life got busy + then tumblr had this unavailable for me when I queued to post which tbh was a miracle bc I was rlly unsure while writing this, and I took my own time to reread and rework it, but idk guess I have writer's block, sorta? It doesn't feel like my best work... be brutally honest w me in ur feedback when u finish reading.

And then also there's a part that was just v vulnerable for me to write, but I couldn't really imagine the scene playing out any differently. Essentially, Y/N's dialogue about her ex - that's my lived experience...erm, so I was just tinkering of ways to rewrite it but I just couldn't think of anything else to fill it with.

Anywho, boy do I have a lotta requests coming up! Be patients w me pls! Also anon, "d" you are a genius, I'm so excited to write ur prompt hehehehe, but sorry if it takes some time :(. I got a Holiday surprise coming up, I'll lyk by the end of the month what that is, but OOOH, SFW Shelton nation, prepare urselves! How are we doing otherwise? Let me know! Are you taking good care of your health in these cold months + wrapping up? Make sure to get your vitamins in! Also, is my tumblr ugly? Should I make a colour theme and redo my masterlist properly? Help?

————————————————————————

Beyond the Baseline - B.T.S

The relationship between you and Ben Shelton was like watching day and night play tennis. Seriously, how could you be friends? What did you even have in common? What would you even talk about?

You, polished, textbook perfect, poised. A steady player who never lets emotions show on the court. Confident but never loud about it. After a win, you’d offer a graceful nod to the crowd, maybe a modest fist pump, but never more. Your game was a masterclass in precision in every shot calculated, every movement on and off court methodical. Fans admired how you dismantled opponents with strategy and patience, and your flawless form made it look effortless. Off the court, you were polite and kindred, smiling, making everyone feel at ease without even trying.

You were the embodiment of calm, pristine tennis. If anyone wanted an example of “playing by the book,” they’d point to you.

And then there was Ben Shelton.

Ben, who was your complete opposite. Loud, unpredictable, made waves and was unapologetic, and yet, utterly captivating. His game thrived on power and chaos, booming serves, fast sprinting bursts across the court, and reckless dives to the net, every point celebrated with fist pumps and wild energy. He lived for those moments that made crowds roar, he basked and riled the stands. When you calmly shake hands with your opponents, Ben chats effortlessly at the net, teasing, joking, and slapping his opponent’s back with that infectious grin. Impossible to dislike, even when he was cocky. Off the court, he was just as loud, just as alive when socialising. If you were a quiet, steady river with your course set, Ben was a wildfire, impossible to contain or predict.

Yet, somehow, despite your differences, you clicked.

It all started that first year on tour at a crossover event where the tours shared a venue. After a long day of matches, you found yourself in the players' lounge, neatly perched in a plush chair, legs crossed, posture upright and as perfect as ever. You still had that composed, in-control air about you, ready to handle anything gracefully.

Then, in strolled Ben Shelton.

He collapsed into the chair across from you, manspreading like it was his personal throne, slouching so far down it was a wonder he didn’t slide onto the floor.

He glanced at you with a lazy grin, his curls messy and unruly, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Y'always sit like you’re posing for the cover of Tennis Monthly?” he asked, amusement laced with that accent of his, no intention of introductions or small talk.

You blinked, taken aback for a few seconds. “I-...what?”

“Yeah,” he continued, sitting up a bit as he waved a hand at your upright posture. “We’re off the court. Y'know, you can relax, right?”

You stared, completely thrown off by his audacity. Who starts a conversation like that? And how do you even reply to that? You didn’t even know him well, yet here he was already challenging you. Your lips broke into an awkward, tight line as your mouth was still agape, trying to find words to respond - not that you needed to, it seemed like Ben had more to tease you about, clearly enjoying your confusion with a wider, gummy smile.

“Don’t tell me you play tennis like this too, all tight 'n rigid. That's so boring.”

It took a moment, but when you finally brought your eyes up to his, you burst out laughing. His nerve! “You did not just say that,” you managed between giggles, shaking your head in disbelief. “My tennis form? Really? You want to talk about form and play?”

He shrugged, not even a little apologetic, enjoying the riffing as his feet rested against the coffee table filling the gap between you two. “Just sayin' loosen up. This isn’t a press conference. I mean, d'you even know how to slouch?”

You shot him a playful, mock-serious look, tucking a strand behind your ear as you leaned forward, your arms resting on your folded legs. “I can slouch.”

His eyebrows shot up in mock surprise, folding his arms over his chest. “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

You paused, narrowing your eyes at him in a challenge. Slowly, way more dramatically than necessary, you leaned back in your chair, gently scooting down an inch on the chair, still keeping your legs crossed but allowing just enough of a slouch to break your normally perfect posture. You looked more uncomfortable than anything, your back now curved, while every other inch of your body remained proper.

Ben snorted, shaking his head, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Wowwww,” he said, barely holding back a laugh. “Look at you. A real rebel huh?”

You rolled your eyes, bringing yourself back up to sit properly, but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “I’m not trying to impress you, you know.”

“Oh?” he cocked his head to the side like a puppy, his grin turning into something softer. “Too late. You already have.”

Your heart skipped a beat, his words catching you completely off guard. There was something about the way he said it, teasing, but with an undertone that made butterflies dance in your stomach and your skin buzz. You found yourself opening your mouth to respond, but just like the other attempts, nothing came out. You just stared at him, feeling completely disarmed by his effortless charm. He didn’t push, just grinned and waited, like he was used to leaving people speechless.

How much confidence could a guy have, and how could he play it off so casually that you don't even mind it?

And in that moment, there was no awkward silence, no need for formalities. Just easy, unexpected banter that flowed naturally and lingered in your mind for longer than you'd like to admit. It wasn’t what you’d expected from someone like Ben, but somehow, it felt right. He opened a side of you within a few conversations, a side that took years of coaxing from some of your closest friends. You couldn't even explain it, for everything you both were and were not, somehow ying and yang, a mountain and a streaming river, you were opposites and yet fit together like a landscape. He’d broken through your perfectly composed exterior, making you laugh and talk without even trying, and for some reason, you didn’t mind at all.

And now here you are, present day, strolling through an Australian mall at midday, looking the ever-polar opposites.

You strode in your knitted cardigan top and straight-leg pants while Ben towered over in a casual t-shirt and his signature stupidly short black shorts. Your arm was casually linked with Ben’s, your steps in sync like this was second nature. It wasn’t unusual for you two to walk like this; in fact, it would be strange if you didn’t. Over time as you both got to know each other, it had started as a joke but became a habit, something along the lines of Ben not wanting you to get "swept away by the crowds". You shared this easy closeness, the kind that people would easily mistake for a couple, but it was just the way you were.

Or at least, that’s what you told yourselves.

“Hey,” Ben’s voice interrupted your thoughts. You blinked, realising he was watching you, that knowing grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. His finger was pointing at a poster right beside a warm small shop.

“Didn’t you mention that necklace before on call a while ago? Wanna go in and have a look?”

You shook your head, brushing it off. “Oh, no, I was just-”

Before you could finish, he was already steering you toward the small store, his hand warm on your shoulder. “C’mon, just looking, right? Besides, you need to get somethin' while we're here. Not like you can't afford it.” He flashed you a wink that made your stomach flip.

The two of you stepped into the warm-lit shop, drawing a few amused glances from the few other customers and the shop assistant. It only really occurred just odd you two looked, Ben in his usual casual attire, slouched with his hands in his pockets, striding while examining the glass displays and you, neat and polished, hands folded and shy.

Ben leaned close, glancing over the cases as if he actually knew what he was looking at. “So you’re gonna match with me and get one of those silver chains, right?” He tugged at his thick metal chain with a smirk, raising an eyebrow at you.

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a smile. “Yeah, Ben, because that would look so ‘me,’ right?”

He snorted. “What, scared of a little edge? Imagine the next headline: ‘Good Girl Gone Bad’ ”

“Or,” you retorted, arching a brow, “it could just read ‘WTA Pro Loses It With a Clear Cry for Help.’”

He chuckled, his laugh low and genuinely amused. But then his expression softened as he caught sight of the delicate rose-gold necklace you’d been admiring. “Alright, alright. Let’s see the one you’re actually into.”

You glanced at him, surprised he remembered the specific piece. And the next thing you knew, he had the case brought out by the sales assistant. The delicate rose gold chain necklace with its beautifully intricate pendant sat in front of you. It wasn't long before the cool metal met your fingers as you gently hauled it out from its bed and into your hands, your breath hitching as you studied it dozens of times, trying to engrave it into your memory. Before you could think twice, you broke your trance and handed it to him.

“Help me put it on?”

Ben’s brows shot up, but he didn’t hesitate. “Turning this into a whole trust exercise, huh?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, turning around and sweeping your hair aside.

“Turn around,” he said, his voice quiet with a flutter of nervousness.

Obediently, you turned, holding your hair up and out of the way, feeling his hands slip around to clasp the necklace at the back of your neck. His fingers brushed your skin, surprisingly gently, and suddenly it was hard to focus on anything else but the feel of his hands there. His fingers trembled ever so slightly, his large digits fiddling with the small dainty clasp. You couldn't help but feel hyper-aware of his touch as you let out a small gasp, only for you to hear; the way he just barely grazed your neck for fleeting milliseconds, how his breath was ghosting over your ear in steady, focused breaths, how his tongue stuck out ever so slightly as he focused, his eyes honed in on getting this one thing right just for you - it was far too much.

You swallowed, realising this was the first time he’d ever been this close in this way, this… tender. A part of you wanted to step forward, break the tension, take the necklace and put it on yourself, the burning, buzzing sensation being oh so overwhelming to the point where it felt you might evaporate on this spot, right here right now. But realistically even if you really wanted to, you couldn't force or make yourself move, the feeling was like a drug, coursing through you and this was your euphoria, your high, something you hadn't felt in a long time, or maybe ever and you had no intention of cutting it short.

You gently bring your gaze up from your shoes, to the mirror and stare at him, running your eyes over his face. It's just a necklace, he's just helping you, c'mon get it together!

“There,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt the clasp fall onto your skin. But he didn’t step back right away. His fingers trailed down, skimming the nape of your neck, and for a second you thought - no, you knew - he was about to say something else, he took a sharp intake but then hesitated and remained in his silence. You look up in the mirror, seeing him still staring at your neck, and your hair, slowly meeting your eyes in the mirror before he realises he's been caught. He stepped back, his familiar grin slipping back into place, and the moment passed like a puff of smoke.

“How does it look?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, breaking free from the dizzy haze you've created in your head.

“Looks good,” he said lightly, and you hated the way your heart twisted at the easy casualness of his tone. He flashed you that infuriating smile, the one that made you both want to slap him and pull him closer at the same time.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice tight, almost irritated that you felt this intense pull that didn't seem to affect him nearly as much as it affected you. “Thanks.”

Your hand delicately took the pendant between your fingers, toying with it as you both stared at each other in the mirror entranced for a few moments, something shifting. You turned back to the display, focusing hard on the jewellery cases even though you could still feel the phantom warmth of his hands on your skin. You forced yourself to breathe evenly, to ignore the way your heart was racing, to pretend like everything was fine.

But as you looked at your reflection in the store’s mirror, the delicate gold resting against your collarbone, you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew, if he could feel it, too. The slow, insidious shift between you, the way everything had started to mean something when it was supposed to mean nothing at all. It wasn't the first time that Ben had done or said something that froze you, but it seems as though every encounter grows in its intensity, and worse, builds more confusion and haze inside of you.

“Guess that means you’re getting it, right?”

You gave him a shy smile breaking from your thoughts, turning around on your heel, still feeling the heat lingering on your neck. “I… think I might.”

As you admired the necklace in your hands, Ben flashed you a grin and excused himself, slipping off towards the main counter. You assumed he was just idly browsing or looking for something to keep him occupied while you made your decision. But when you turned to check on him, you saw him whispering something to the cashier, glancing over at you with a suspiciously wide grin.

You squinted, realising too late what he was up to. Just as you started toward him, the assistant who’d been helping you gently tapped your shoulder.

“Miss?” she said, her voice sweet but carefully practised. “We actually just got a similar collection of rose-gold necklaces in. You might want to take a look.”

You shot her a polite smile, still watching Ben out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, I think I’ve found the one-”

But Ben was already flashing his card to the cashier, sending you a playful wink and sticking his tongue out between his smile, before your assistant intercepted you again with a dazzling necklace display. By the time you returned to the counter, Ben was leaning casually, arms crossed, the structured paper bag already in his hand.

“Ben!” you hissed, reaching for it.

He laughed, holding it just out of your reach as he leaned in, his grin bordering on smug. “You don’t remember mentionin’ it twice, right?” he drawled, dripping with his usual playful tone, the same one that had you engaged from the day you first met. “Couldn’t risk lettin’ ya walk away from somethin’ you actually like.”

You smacked his arm lightly, only making him laugh more as he ducked away, looping his arm casually around your waist to draw you into a side hug. The warmth of his touch lingered, his hand resting comfortably at your hip. It was the sort of touch that should’ve felt natural by now, but somehow, it left you flustered. He was supposed to be the loud, obnoxious friend who made everyone laugh. So why did it feel like every touch, every sideways glance in your direction, especially today, held a weight that left you breathless? You hated that it was him, the one person you thought you’d never lose your cool around, who could make your composure slip so effortlessly.

“Don’t go gettin’ all mad,” he said, that easy grin still in place, his accent softening in a way that had your stomach fluttering. “It’s just a little token of your winnin's.”

You mumbled something about unfair tactics, even as your hand settled into his. He finally laughed, still holding your bag and chuckling as he looked around the mall. His gaze landed on a clothing shop just ahead, and his face lit up.

“Alright, you got your shiny new necklace. Now you’re helpin’ me pick out a hoodie,” he said, giving you a grin that could only be described as downright cocky. “Let’s see if I can look half as put together as you.”

“Fine,” you replied, barely suppressing a smile, “but don't expect me to return the payment favour, that's on you.”

Ben just laughed, letting you walk in first before he strolled in behind you. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Once inside, Ben beelined for the hoodies, pulling out everything he could get his hands on without checking the tags or sizes. He held up a dark blue one with a shrug, grinning as he tossed it in your direction. “This one’s a classic, right? Nice and oversized?”

“Ben,” you said, giving him an exasperated look as you held the fabric up, it's nowhere near his size, way too small. “This wouldn’t even fit you like a sleeve. This would be a corset for you. Besides, since when do you need an oversized anything?”

He chuckled, looking down at his broad shoulders and long frame. “Point taken. Let’s see, you’re gonna have to help me find somethin’… refined. Like me.”

You rolled your eyes, but reached for a khaki cream-coloured hoodie, holding it up in front of him. “This one’s got ‘actually dressed himself’ written all over it.”

Ben took it from you and pulled it over his head without bothering to even look for the changing rooms, letting it settle over his broad shoulders and across his arms, the fabric fitting perfectly. He adjusted the sleeves, smoothing out a crease as he caught your eye with a playful smirk.

“So, how do I look? All cleaned up, or just half?”

You stepped closer, straightening the hood and smoothing the fabric across his chest and shoulders. “Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly. “Maybe the best-dressed you’ve ever been for casual attire.”

Ben cleared his throat, a small blush creeping up his neck before he made a funny face at you and pushed your face away with his palm, making you laugh. You reached up and tugged the hood down over his face in response. “Stop it! Do you ever act normal?”

From underneath the hood, his face was hidden but the smile in his tone gave him away. “Normal? C’mon, that doesn’t sound like me at all.”

He yanked the hood off, reaching for another hoodie, examining a grey one this time. He pulled the cream hoodie up over his head, and just as he tugged it up, you realised his T-shirt was trying to come with it. Without thinking, you reached over and tugged his shirt back down, cheeks warming as he slipped into the hoodie with a cheeky grin.

“Good save,” he said, finally adjusting the fit with a little salute. “Now I really gotta make you my official stylist.”

“Oh, if it means I get to stop you from embarrassing yourself in public, I’ll do it,” you replied with a grin.

Ben just rolled his eyes sassily as he watched you inspect the look as he pulled the grey one on. “Don’t go givin’ me too many compliments now. Might go straight to my head.”

You laughed, giving his chest a final pat. “I’d say we’ve got it just right.”

After a long day of shopping and conversing together, the last thing you needed was more conversation, you couldn't wait to take yourself to your hotel room and sink in everything that had happened and everything that had been felt. As you took your small bags from Ben's hands you stood in the elevator, engrossed in the gossip Ben was subjecting you to, something to do with car dealers. Somewhere along the way, Ben had even pressed the button to your floor himself.

By the time you unlocked your door, it was almost automatic; you turned to face him, assuming he’d say goodbye and let you get some rest. But he strolled right in, still mid-sentence, as if he had every right to be there. You stood in the doorframe, breaking your smile and shaking your head, mouth agape as you realised what just happened.

“Ben... did you just follow me into my hotel room?” you asked, crossing your arms as you watched him plop down on your bed like he owned the place.

“Pfft,” he scoffed, “don’t flatter yourself. You ain’t got nothin’ in here worth followin’ you for - ‘cept maybe more of that wild fashion sense you got.” He shot you a teasing grin, his eyes flicking over to the small shopping bags you’d set down on the dresser.

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, so now you’re a fashion critic too? I didn’t hear you complaining when I helped you pick out those hoodies.”

He laughed, that easy, familiar sound filling the room, and leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I still think you coulda gone a little crazier. All that walking around and y' bought tiny, little things like that necklace. Real tame, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to smile. “It’s called being tasteful, Ben. Not everyone can rock 'big and bold' like you.”

He gave you a mock-offended look, his drawl growing thicker. “Well, we can’t all be boring, now can we, darlin'?”

You felt a flicker of something under his words - the teasing words hung in the air longer than you expected, and you felt a jolt of something, nothing you could name, but enough to make you look away first, pretending to busy yourself with the bags again as you cleared your throat.

“Right,” you said, voice light, “because you’re the definition of exciting. The guy who almost bought a novelty koala mug for fifty bucks.”

“Hey, c'mon now, that mug was a steal,” he shot back, eyes glinting with amusement. “And besides, who’s gonna stop me? You?”

You giggled softly, flopping down beside him on your stomach, your elbow brushing the bedspread as you kept a careful inch of space between you. The gap between you felt electric, buzzing with that familiar charge you both pretended not to notice. “I already did, remember? I’ve saved you so many times from a lifetime of tacky souvenirs. You’d be drowning in cheap tourist mugs if it weren’t for me.”

Ben’s face softened, his smirk fading into something almost thoughtful as he rolled onto his side, propping his head up with one hand. “Guess I owe you, then,” he said quietly, his tone lower, like he was sharing a secret.

The room seemed to hold its breath, and you swore the sunlight dimmed just a little, softening the angles of his face. For a heartbeat, you thought he was going to say something more, something that would change everything between you. You caught the scent of his cologne, warm and fresh with a hint of spice, and your eyes flickered down to his lips, wondering if he’d noticed the way you’d frozen like a deer in headlights, caught between teasing and leaning in, unsure if you were daring him or daring yourself.

His gaze dropped, almost imperceptibly, to where your fingers played with the loose thread on the edge of the bedspread, and it was like he saw right through you. The air crackled, the tension stretching out like a taut string, ready to snap making you feel all sorts of woozy. You knew if you moved, if you even breathed too deeply, it would shatter whatever fragile moment this was. He was watching you so closely, noticing everything, the angle of your face, the way your hair fell, the way your breath caught just a little too fast, the tiny smile you couldn’t quite hide.

And then he grinned as he caught your smile; a lazy, crooked grin that made your heart skip. The vulnerability in his eyes flickered and was gone, hidden behind that familiar playful charm. It was safer that way, easier to laugh it off than to admit there might be something real between you.

You nudged him gently with your shoulder, letting out a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding, aching from the sincere moment but almost glad it passed. Almost.

“You definitely do,” you said, your voice deliberately light.

Ben chuckled, a warm, rumbling sound that made you feel both safe and entirely off-balance. “Deal, you got it. How about some snacks? But, if I’m buyin’, you can’t go pullin’ that health-nut stuff on me. It’s gotta be a proper snack run, none of your boring, practical choices.”

“Oh, I’m so there,” you replied, half laughing, half trying to mask the flush that was still heating your cheeks. “Just don’t get all whiny if I veto your terrible taste.”

He sat up, giving you a mockingly serious look, his expression exaggeratedly grave. “Whiny? I don’t whine. I’m just... persuasive.”

“Sure you are,” you teased, feeling the tension still lingering about in the air.

You reached out to push his shoulder playfully, but he was faster. His hand caught yours, fingers curling around yours in a way that sent a spark racing up your arm. For a second, everything went still, the noise from the street outside faded, and the weight of the bed shifted beneath you, but all you could feel was the heat of his palm against yours.

It was Ben who let go first, his eyes gleaming with that familiar mischievous spark. “9, don’t be late,” he said, pushing himself off the bed with a careless grin.

You watched him head for the door, your pulse still racing in your chest. “I’m never late,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected despite the way your voice wavered, light and teasing.

He paused in the doorway, throwing a look over his shoulder, his eyes softer than usual, almost expectant. “We’ll see about that,” he said with a wink before disappearing into the hallway, leaving you staring at the closed door, still lying on the bed, with a strange, buzzing feeling beneath your skin. You couldn't help but feel the heat rise to your face, your hand on fire from the interaction as you stared around, dumbfounded from the passing moments.

Later that night, you headed to the hotel lobby, the low hum of late-night travellers and the clinking of glass doors filling the space. You spotted Ben before he saw you, leaning casually against a column in a purple hoodie, scrolling through his phone with a barely-there smile tugging at his lips.

He looked up the second the elevator doors opened, and whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t you in a simple top with the sleeves pushed up and cargo pants, like you were trying too hard to look like you weren’t trying at all.

His eyebrows lifted, a grin spreading slow and wide. “That’s what you’re wearin’?” he said, not even bothering to hide his amusement.

You scoffed, furrowing your brows, shoving your hands in your pockets before muttering, “Yeah... what’s wrong with it?”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the way they softened, something playful and gentle mingling with the mischief. Without saying a word, he dug into his bag and pulled out a well-worn hoodie, its cuffs fraying slightly and the colour slightly faded from too many washes. “Here,” he said, thrusting it at you. “You’re not goin’ anywhere with me like that.”

You gave him a long, unamused stare. “Seriously?”

“Seriously,” he shot back, voice dropping lower, teasing. “Don’t make me beg.”

You snatched the hoodie from him with a huff, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the fabric as you slipped it over your head. It was massive, swallowing you whole, the sleeves dangling well past your hands. You tugged at the cuffs, rolling them up clumsily and folding the bottom into your waistband so it didn't completely swallow you up as Ben watched with a satisfied smirk.

“Better,” he declared, like he’d personally fixed a crisis.

“Happy now?” you asked, your voice sharper than you’d intended, but you couldn’t help the way your heart picked up speed when he looked at you like that like you were more than just some friend he dragged along on a whim.

He just grinned and nodded. “Let’s go.”

The grocery store was nearly empty, the white-lit aisles stretching out like pathways to nowhere. The two of you wandered slowly at first, examining small differences side by side, until you found yourselves in the snack aisle, surrounded by walls of bright, neon packaging. Ben was in his element, zeroing in on the loudest, most ridiculous options like a kid in a candy store.

He plucked a bag of neon-orange chips from the shelf, shaking it lightly. “Alright,” he said, his tone suddenly all business, “What’s your stance on cheese puffs?”

You glanced at the bag and back at him, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not food, that’s...radioactive material. Nothing should be that orange.”

He gasped mouth agape before forming a pout, side-eyeing you. “Loud and wrong, but okay...”

You snatched the bag from his hand, tossing it into the cart anyway. “Fine. But we’re getting something that won’t kill us on the spot too.”

“Oh, here we go,” he groaned, watching as you added a box of granola bars to the mix with a self-satisfied smile. He shook his head, grabbing the cart handle and steering it down the aisle with a flourish.

“You’re no fun.”

“Somebody has to be the adult,” you said lightly, your shoulder brushing his as you walked.

The cart squeaked slightly as you rounded the corner, stopping to examine a box and before you knew it, Ben had snuck up behind you, his hands on your waist, lifting you off the floor in one swift movement. You barely had time to react before he dropped you, albeit with a slightly abrupt drop, laughing into the cart like it was the most natural thing in the world. You gasped, grabbing at the edges of the cart to steady yourself as he pushed forward, his laughter echoing off the empty shelves.

“Ben, what are you doing?” you demanded, half-exasperated, half-laughing as the cart picked up speed.

“Shoppin’!” he said nonchalantly, his voice lilting with barely suppressed giggles. “What’s it look like?”

You tried to glare at him, but the sound of his laughter, the way he moved so easily beside you, pulling you into his orbit, made it impossible to be mad. He flipped the hood over your face without warning, almost like payback from your antics earlier and you yelped, fumbling to throw it off your face as he made a dramatic show of spinning the cart around in circles in a wide arc, as if he were doing doughnuts in his car, laughing as you swayed and clung to the sides.

“Ben, you’re insane!” you shouted, but it came out more like a giggle, and you knew he’d hear it for what it was; a thrill you couldn’t quite hide.

“Yeah, but you love it!” he shot back, slowing the cart and landing it to face him, just enough to meet your eyes, the world narrowing down to the space between you. His smile was softer now, more intimate like he’d forgotten you were in a brightly lit grocery store at all.

For a second, you forgot too. Forgot about the shelves stacked high with candy and cereal, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as your world came back from spinning and went straight into those puppy-dog brown eyes that always invited you so warmly. It was just him, and the warmth in him, the way he was looking at you like he could see straight through all the walls you’d built up.

Then he blinked, breaking the moment, and you cleared your throat, holding your sides tighter like it was armour. “C’mon,” you said, your voice a little too casual. “We still need to get some popcorn.”

His smirk returned a flash of teeth and mischief. “Only if I get to pick.”

“Fine,” you said, hopping out of the cart in a not-so-gracious way, almost tripping and falling over before you found your feet, while he squeezed his eyes shut and stifled a laugh. You ignored him and nudged him aside as you led the way, leaving him and the cart behind. “We’re not getting any of that sugar-loaded nonsense.”

“Deal,” he said easily, falling back into step beside you, close enough that his arm brushed yours with every step as he leaned onto the shopping cart's handle. It was comfortable, this back-and-forth, like a dance you’d both practised without realising.

The rest of the trip was a blur of bright colours and easy laughter, you vetoing his most ridiculous choices and him sneaking them into the cart when he thought you weren’t looking. There was something electric in the air, a charge that made you feel light and breathless. Every time your eyes met, it was like the world shrunk just a little more, leaving just the two of you standing there, suspended in a moment that neither of you wanted to end.

By the time you left, the night air was cool and crisp, and the city lights blurred into a haze of gold and blue. You carried your small, modest box of granola bars easily while Ben lugged a full backpack and a crinkling, overstuffed plastic bag of brightly coloured chaos, bumping your shoulder with his as you walked.

“Y’know,” he began, adding a lazy warmth to the night air, “if you think for one second that’s the last time I’m gonna put you in a cart, you’re wrong.”

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “Oh yeah? You're planning on carrying me around as part of your personal grocery haul from now on?”

He shot you a playful grin, his smile wide and easy. “Might just make it a habit. You fit in there pretty nice.”

Rolling your eyes, you bumped his arm with yours, but the warmth lingered longer than you expected. “You’re a menace, you know that?”

“Hey, I don't hear nobody complainin’ ‘bout bein’ chauffeured around,” he shot back, his eyes glimmering in the low streetlights. “And don’t pretend you didn’t love it. Saw you smilin’ the whole way.”

You tried to hide your grin, biting down on your lip. “I was not smiling.”

“Sure you weren’t,” he said, his voice dipping into a teasing drawl, and you knew he saw right through you. He always did, with that irritating, endearing way of his.

He kept walking, and you fell into an easy stride beside him, the silence that stretched out feeling warm, and comfortable, the kind that made you feel like you didn’t need to fill it with words.

As you cross the street, your fingers accidentally brush his for a split second, and you both tense up, the smallest contact sparking between you like static. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he shot you a quick, almost shy smile before looking up at the half-lit sky.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said suddenly as if the thought had just hit him. “There’s this café I saw online, right? Said they’ve got the best breakfast sandwiches in Australia. And it's like, a 15-minute walk from the hotel.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Yeah? And what, you’re planning to drag me out of bed before dawn just to try a sandwich?”

“Exactly! You read my mind!” he yelped excitedly without missing a beat, clearly not hearing your sarcasm. “We’ll beat the crowd! No lines, best seat in the house. Plus,” he added with a wink, “you look like you could use a proper breakfast after that grocery store workout.”

You gave him a sceptical look, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Fine. But if it’s some overhyped, greasy thing, you owe me.”

“I’ll take that bet,” he said, flashing that confident grin that made it impossible to say no. The walk back to the hotel was quieter, the playful back-and-forth giving way to a comfortable, unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to break. After many attempts at trying to close the door on Ben only to be interrupted by "Wait, one last thing before I go"'s and many, many awful jokes, you finally found yourself drained as you collapsed onto your bed. You quickly set a reminder for his ridiculous plan, and a dreadful 5am alarm was made, leaving you with not nearly enough time to rest after the day's antics.

The alarm dragged you out of a deep sleep way too soon, feeling like you had just fallen into slumber. You groaned, fumbling to silence it, barely managing to swing your legs over the side of the bed before realising you were still wrapped in Ben’s hoodie, the fabric heavy and warm, smelling of cologne and well, him. Blinking blearily, you forced yourself to move, your mind foggy with sleep, the hotel room still wrapped in low shadow. The chill of the early hour made you pull the hoodie tighter around yourself, the soft material a comfort against the cold.

When you finally stumbled downstairs to the lobby, he was already there, leaning casually against the doorframe, one hand shoved into his pocket, the other holding a steaming ceramic cup of coffee. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and you noticed the way his eyes went wide for a second before he quickly masked it with a crooked smile. His hair was messy, and he looked like he hadn’t been awake for long, but the sight of him made your chest feel oddly light. You were still half-asleep, your hair barely brushed, eyes slightly open, and wearing his hoodie like it was a shield against the early morning chill.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he said, his voice rough and deep with sleep, the sound of it washing over you like a warm wave. There was a hitch in his tone, something unsteady and unguarded, and it made your stomach flutter in a way you couldn’t quite explain. "You look... cozy."

You tried to rub the sleep from your eyes, barely registering his words. “What?” you mumbled, blinking up at him.

The lights in the lobby were harsh, making you squint, and you fumbled with the hood, pushing it back slightly. Your fingers felt clumsy, too heavy, and you knew you looked a mess. No makeup, hair lazily brushed, the sleeves of his hoodie falling over your hands like a second blanket.

His gaze lingered, and he cleared his throat, glancing away quickly like he’d seen something he shouldn’t. “I, uh... you’re wearin’ my hoodie,” he said, a slow smile tugging at his lips despite the awkwardness in his voice.

“Didn’t think you’d be, y’know, sleepin’ in it.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you shrugged, still too groggy to care much. “It’s comfortable,” you muttered, your voice muffled with sleep. “I just… forgot to take it off.”

He was quiet for a beat too long like he was turning your words over in his mind, and you noticed the way he was looking at you, really looking, like he was seeing something he hadn’t expected. You wanted to say something, to break the strange heaviness of the moment, but your brain felt slow and thick with exhaustion, and all you could do was yawn and shift your weight from one foot to the other.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice softer, a bit hesitant, like he wasn’t sure if he should keep pushing. His eyes were bright despite the early hour, lingering on the way his hoodie hung loose on your frame, the oversized fabric almost swallowing you. “Well, it... looks good on you. Real good.”

You ducked your head, a sleepy laugh escaping your lips, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped at his words. “I’m sure it does, c'mon let's get going if we want to beat the queue or whatever,” you teased, though there was no bite behind it. You didn’t have the energy for anything but honesty, and you were still caught up in the warmth of his hoodie, the way it felt like a shield against the morning chill.

His grin softened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly self-conscious. “Nah, I mean it,” he said, his drawl slow and unsteady. “Didn’t know you’d make my old thing look that good.”

You shrugged again, feeling your face flush as you ducked your chin deeper into the collar of the hoodie. “Guess I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your eyes still half-closed, struggling to focus in the dim lighting.

“Yeah, you should,” he said, the words coming out a little too fast like he couldn’t quite control the way they slipped out. He was still watching you, his gaze almost tender, his usual confidence faltering in the face of your sleepy vulnerability.

You felt an odd sensation bloom in your chest. Something soft and unsteady, and you weren’t sure if it was the early hour, his deep, sleep-rough voice, or the way he couldn’t seem to look away from you. You fumbled to roll up the too-long sleeves, your fingers barely managing to fold the fabric back, and Ben’s gaze followed the movement, his eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite name.

He hesitated, then stepped closer, his movements careful and unhurried, like he was testing the boundaries of whatever this was between you. He lifted his coffee cup, its warmth radiating outwards as he held it just inches from your face. “Here,” he offered his voice still that deep morning rumble that made your stomach twist. “You look like you could use this more than I do.”

Ben handed you the mug, and as you took a sip, your fingers barely brushed his, such a small, fleeting touch that it might as well have been an accident. But the warmth of it lingered, and Ben’s eyes, still sleepy but more awake than yours, didn’t stray from your face. You were too groggy to notice as you took a deep gulp of the warm coffee. It was rich and comforting, exactly what you needed to get moving, and you barely caught the way Ben's gaze softened as you closed your eyes and sighed contentedly.

You held the mug back out to him, half-smiling as you blinked against the morning light spilling through the windows. “Okay, I'll admit, it’s good,” you admitted, handing it over with a sleepy grin.

Ben grinned back, his tone suddenly lighter as he accepted the mug again. “Mhm, damn right,” his drawl thick in the early hour, the kind that always made you feel just a bit more awake than you were ready for. His voice was deep, still rough from sleep, and you felt a strange flutter at the sound of it, so different from his usual light-hearted teasing. He looked like he wanted to add something further, but instead, he raised the mug to his lips, pausing for the briefest moment before taking a sip from the exact spot where your mouth had just been.

“Let’s go,” he said softly, his voice a little rough, almost hesitant, and you nodded, letting him lead the way out into the slowly illuminating streets.

The walk to the café was quiet, but it was a different kind of quiet now, one that felt heavy with things left unsaid, with the strange intimacy of the moment lingering between you like a secret. Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you felt more awake with each step, the chilly air biting at your face and the faint light from the rising sun glinting off the windows above. Ben was walking a little too close, his arm brushing yours every now and then, and you noticed the way he kept sneaking glances at you as if he was trying to memorise every detail, the way his hoodie pooled around your hips, the faint shadow of sleep still lingering in your eyes and on your pouted lips, the way you hadn’t bothered to fix your hair or hide the bare honesty of your face.

“Don't think I’ve ever seen you this early before,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence, low and rumbling like distant thunder. “No makeup, no fancy clothes. Just... I don't know, man, just you.”

You looked up at him, squinting a little against the first light of dawn, and tried to muster up some kind of retort, but all you could manage was a half-hearted, sleepy smile. “Disappointed?” you teased, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Not even a little,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice hit you like a punch to the gut. He smiled, the edges of his mouth curling up in that familiar way that made your heart skip, and you found yourself smiling back without even realising it, feeling lighter and warmer than you had in a long time.

The two of you arrived at the café, footsteps slowing as you got closer. But when you reached the door, your heart sank. Not a single person lined up. The café was dark, the interior shrouded in shadows, and there, taped to the inside of the window, was a handwritten sign that read: Closed. Opens at 7 AM.

You blinked at it, still half-asleep, your shoulders slumping as disappointment settled in. “Ben,” you dragged a hand over your face before narrowing your eyes at him, “you’re telling me I could’ve slept for two more hours? I thought it'd be open sooner!”

“Hey, who needs sleep?” he said, shrugging without a hint of regret. He gestured to the empty curb across the street with a grin. “C’mon. Let’s sit it out. I’ll make the time fly right by.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. Despite the chill in the early-morning air, you settled beside him on the curb, arms wrapped tightly around yourself as you rested your chin atop your knees. The street was quiet in the way only early morning can be, just the two of you and the distant hum of a waking city.

Ben stretched his long legs out in front of him like he owned the street. There was something so easy about sitting there with him in the silence, the air crisp and the sky just beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn. You watched the horizon, focusing on the deepening shades of indigo and pale gold, the familiar comfort of the city awakening inch by inch. It was strange how easy it was to be around him, how your guard dropped without you even noticing. His presence was effortless, and the way his eyes rested on you every now and then, like you were someone worth seeing, made you feel something you didn’t quite want to name yet.

“You know,” he murmured, a hint of his usual humour in his tone, “you’re not half bad at relaxin’ after all.”

You shot him a soft glare, lips twitching. “Are you trying to say I’m fun?”

“Hmm...I’d say a little more than fun,” he replied, his smile widening. “But let’s just leave it at that for now. At least no one’s in line, so we’ll get the best seat in the house when they do open” He glanced over to you as he leaned back on his palms.

You chuckled, glancing at the empty street. The entire street was silent, just the two of you in the quiet stillness of dawn. You relaxed a little, sinking further into the oversized hoodie that smelled like him, comforting and familiar.

After a while, he nudged you with his shoulder, his eyes up to the sky but his voice low. “You ever notice how I always seem to get you roped into these side quests of mine?” he asked, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “Errands, random snack runs, you name it.”

You shot him a sideways glance, fighting back a smirk. “Oh, I’ve noticed. You have a knack for it, Ben. You’re lucky I can keep up. You nominated me for laundry duty last week too.”

He let his head back with a laugh. “Well, you’re good at it.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to help the smile that pulled at your lips. “Or maybe you’re just lazy.”

“Nah, it’s ‘cause you’re the only person who’ll actually come along for the ride,” he admitted, his gaze settling on you with a softness that made your heart skip. “Anyway… why don’t you ever bring a boyfriend along on one of these little errands? Not like you're short on admirers.”

His question caught you off guard, and you looked away, staring out at the sunrise as your thoughts turned inward. It was a topic you rarely touched, one you hadn’t even realised you’d been avoiding until now.“I don’t know,” you said softly, your voice distant and hesitant. “I guess, maybe… it’s just easier this way?”

“No one special you’re hiding from me, huh?” Ben’s tone was gentle, almost teasing, but his eyes held a genuine curiosity. He wanted to understand.

You swallowed, feeling a lump form in your throat. This was a part of yourself you rarely shared, a shadow you’d kept hidden for a long time. But the stillness of the morning and the warmth in his gaze tugged at something deep inside. “There was someone,” you admitted, barely above a whisper. “A while ago.”

He didn’t say anything, just watched you, the usual teasing gone, replaced by quiet patience.

“He... he liked that I had my life together, y'know? Like I was this 'go-getter,' always calm and composed,” you said, slowly letting the words surface. “Or at least, that’s what he told me. He said he liked that I wasn’t flashy and that I didn’t draw too much attention to myself. I think he appreciated my quiet confidence, and how I could go with the flow. Looking back, I think it was because he thought it made me easier to control...” You let out a short, hollow laugh that didn’t reach your eyes.

“I didn’t even realise when things shifted,” you continued, voice more firm now. “When he went from showing genuine interest to making all the decisions. It must've been gradual, but it felt like it just happened one day; I don’t know when it started. Suddenly, he was calling all the shots, and I thought I was just being a good partner. Compromising. Making space for him. Letting him be himself. But I didn’t see that, bit by bit, I was putting myself away.”

Ben’s jaw tightened, but he remained silent, his attention urging you to go on.

“He’d ignore my texts for hours, sometimes days, and then act like I was overreacting when I brought it up. But God forbid I missed one of his calls during training or when I was away on tour. If I couldn’t stay up late to talk, he’d make it into a huge deal. We’d set times to call, but he’d never follow through—and always with some lame excuse.”

You paused, drawing a deep breath, eyes fixed on a point in the distance.

“And then there were the arguments,” you said, voice tightening. “About the most impossible things—like how I didn’t spend enough time with him. How could I when I was half a world away? Or how my career always came first. He said I was boring, that I wasn’t spontaneous enough. But whenever I tried to change, there was always something else wrong. No matter what I did, it was never enough.”

Ben’s expression darkened, a flicker of frustration tightening the corners of his mouth. His hand was on the curb next to yours, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his skin—grounding you.

“Maybe he was jealous,” you said, the words almost to yourself. “That’s what my mom said. Jealous of my success, or of the fact that I had something I loved that wasn’t about him. He knew exactly how to make me feel small. Every victory, every career milestone, he’d twist it, make me feel like I was failing him. Like I was always letting him down. I thought... if I could just balance it all if I could make him happy, he’d love me the way I needed. But honestly? I don’t even know what I needed anymore, not when he was the one telling me how to feel.”

You swallowed, the bitterness of those memories heavy on your tongue.

“No matter how much I shifted or tried to be the girl he wanted, it was never enough. There was always another criticism, another reason why I wasn’t good enough. I was too selfish, too focused on my career, too indecisive, too... everything. And I believed him. I thought I was the problem. That I just couldn’t make him happy.”

A light breeze swept through the street, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, pulling your knees close as if to shield yourself from the weight of those memories.

“He was... God, Ben, you should've heard him. He was so relentless when he wanted to be. It felt like every part of my life was under a microscope, every single decision, every single choice; it was all wrong. All the things I loved, the things that made me proud, they just started to fade away, like they’d been drained of colour.”

Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed on, finding strength in the words you’d never fully voiced before.

“I started to lose myself in a spiral. Everything felt so ... grey, so heavy like I was wading through water. I thought... isn’t this what relationships are? Compromise, sacrifice, working through the rough patches? That’s what I kept telling myself. I thought if I just tried harder, if I carried the weight for both of us, then maybe he’d be happy again, like how he was in the beginning. But I started wondering if I was even cut out for love. I mean, what does it even mean to love someone, really? All I knew was that I kept losing myself in the process, and it still wasn’t nearly enough.”

You exhaled, as the quiet of the morning felt almost too peaceful, the faint chirping of birds contrasting with the heaviness of what you were saying.

“And then he cheated,” you continued, your voice flat. “When I found out, he didn’t even try to deny it. He just looked at me, fatigued, and was like, ‘What did you expect with the way you treat me? Don’t be so naive.’ But you know what?”

You paused, a strange light creeping into your voice.

“It was almost a relief. Him cheating... it was my way out. For the first time, I had a solid, undeniable reason to leave. I didn’t have to keep convincing myself that I needed to try harder, or that it was all my fault.”

Your voice softened, carrying vulnerability.

“I don’t even know if I ever really loved him, or maybe, I don't know how to love. Maybe I just loved the idea of being loved or being enough for someone. But the truth is, I don’t think I even know what love is supposed to feel like. I gave everything I had, and it still wasn’t right, I felt so drained like a vampire had me. Maybe I’ve never felt real love, or maybe... maybe I’m just not meant for it.”

Ben’s silence was heavy beside you, his gaze unwavering, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. The shame and rawness of your words made your throat tighten, but you kept going.

“I stayed until I had nothing left to give until I got cheated on, and even then, I couldn’t tell you why. It was like I was trying to win a game I didn’t even understand. And in the end, I realised... I never even had him, not truly. I was always chasing something that wasn’t there. It was always a losing game, and I was the only one playing.”

Ben’s gaze was steady, the weight of your words hanging between you. Then he spoke, his tone warm and sincere. “You don’t deserve someone treating you like that. Not ever. I-"

He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment before he continued.

"I can’t even imagine doin' that to you. You’re more than enough, you always have been. You don’t need to change a single thing for anyone. Man, I like you just the way you are because I know you, and I know you’re worth so much more than what you settled for with that dick.”

A tear slid down your cheek, carrying all the hurt you’d kept buried for so long. You weren’t crying, not really, but his words had found their way past all your defences, and something inside you softened and broke open.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked, your voice small, almost scared, your eyes searching his.

Ben’s eyes locked onto yours, and something in his expression shifted. For a moment, he seemed almost stunned, his face softening, his features melting with a tenderness that made it hard to breathe. He reached out slowly to cup your face with his hand, as if afraid you might pull away, and when you didn’t, he gently wiped the tear from your cheek. His fingers lingered, brushing against your skin with a touch so careful it made your heart ache.

“I mean every word,” he said, his voice low and steady, barely more than a whisper. “I see you, Y/N. I’ve always seen you.”

His words hit you like a wave, and the tears came faster, though still silent. Ben’s expression softened even further, and he pulled you into him without hesitation, wrapping a strong arm around you, and holding you close. You pressed your face into his shoulder, feeling the warmth and solid comfort of him, and slowly, you let yourself sink into his embrace. He didn’t speak, just rubbed your back in gentle circles, his chin resting on top of your head.

After minutes had passed when the tightness in your chest had started to fade and the early morning warmth grew warmer, you felt him smile against your hair. He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, and he said with a playful grin, “If this is all it takes to get a hug outta you, I should’ve asked sooner.”

You couldn’t help it, you let out a small, breathy laugh, rolling your eyes even as you stayed close to him, nestling your head before you lifted it up.

“Oh, shut up,” you said, smacking his shoulder lightly. “If I knew you were gonna use emotional blackmail for free hugs, I would’ve kept my distance.”

He chuckled, the sound low and comforting, and the warmth of the moment settled between you. You pulled away, wiping your face with the oversized sleeves of his old hoodie, the one that had become yours. The quiet returned, peaceful now, the sun creeping higher in the sky and washing everything in shades of soft orange and pink.

You sat together in silence, shoulder to shoulder, the pain slowly ebbing away as the world woke up around you. There was something different between you now, a shift that neither of you said out loud but both of you felt. For the first time in a long time, you felt a weight lift, and you let yourself relax against him, the silence and small conversation comfortable as you felt relief and warmth flow through you.

By the time the café finally opened, you and Ben had spent two hours huddled together as the sun began to bathe you two, and sharing quiet laughter as the world slowly woke up around you. The anticipation of the legendary breakfast had both of you giddy and a little loopy from the early start, making the time fly by.

But when the doors swung open and you finally got your hands on the much-hyped breakfast sandwiches, reality hit. The sandwiches were mediocre, wayyy too salty and the coffee was disappointingly weak. The "famous" breakfast sandwiches that Ben’s TikTok video had promised would be life-changing were, frankly, a letdown. Yet, it didn’t matter at all.

The two of you slid into a corner booth, expecting to sit across from each other, but Ben surprised you by scooting in right beside you, his thigh pressing lightly against yours. He stretched his legs out under the table, claiming the whole space as his own. You couldn’t help but laugh, leaning into his warmth as you sipped your disappointing coffee.

“This is the most underwhelming breakfast I’ve ever had,” you said, crinkling your nose as you picked at the sandwich.

Ben chuckled, flashing you a mischievous grin. “Guess I owe you a better one, next time” he teased, nudging your shoulder with his.

“Damn right, you do,” you shot back with a smirk.

Ben’s arm rested casually over the back of the booth, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, sending shivers down your spine. Every small, careless touch, his knee nudging yours, his fingers grazing your hoodie, made it harder to ignore the fluttering in your chest. With each laugh and shared smile, you felt something shifting between you, something that made it impossible to see him as just a friend, especially after being so vulnerable earlier.

As the café started to fill with the morning crowd, you remained on the same side of the booth, your legs tangled comfortably under the table. There was an easy closeness between you now, a kind of unspoken understanding like you were sharing a secret that only the two of you knew. When he reached over to brush a crumb from your lip as you talked, his fingertips barely grazing your skin, you felt your cheeks heat and words stutter, but you didn’t pull away. The sun rose higher, streaming golden light through the café windows, and the warmth between you felt softer and more real than any disappointment over a bad breakfast. Ben’s presence was grounding, and for the first time in a very long time, you felt genuinely at ease, like the weight of your earlier conversation and all your own personal baggage had lessened, transformed into something lighter by his easy smile and gentle touch.

By the time you both decided to leave, you were still laughing over the overhyped “legendary” breakfast. As you stepped out onto the sun-drenched street, Ben’s hand slipped into yours with a light squeeze, like always, as if to say, I’m still here. I’ve got you. The simple gesture left your skin tingling, and your heart racing just a little faster.

You walked together down the slowly waking street back to the hotel, shoulder to shoulder, arms looped together, a warmth lingering between you that had nothing to do with the sunrise. The world around you was coming alive, but it felt like you were still living in that quiet, private space you'd created in the early morning hours, a small bubble of warmth and closeness that was just yours. Of course, it couldn't last long, not with training and matches coming up alongside personal commitments and whatever else, but having this quiet time together was more than rewarding.

As the café faded into the past, so did the warmth of those golden moments, but the echoes lingered. It wasn’t just the memory of his hand brushing yours or the way his laugh had chased away the lingering shadows of your conversation. It was the way he lingered, so effortlessly, so relentlessly, in the quiet spaces of your life.

You couldn’t stop thinking about him as your tour carried you to different cities. The way his hand had slipped into yours so naturally that morning replayed in your mind at the oddest times: during practice serves, mid-flight naps creeping into your peaceful dreams, even while unpacking yet another suitcase in yet another hotel room. It wasn’t like you wanted to be distracted, but Ben was everywhere, his presence stamped into your routine as if he’d always been part of it. And it seemed as though he had no intention of loosening that grip he had on your mind. Calls and messages were frequent as days blurred into one another, conversations that felt simultaneously too much and not nearly enough. Ones that'd have you squealing in bed as you reread over the texts or have you clutching your phone tight minutes after hanging up, savouring the small moments. The banter was still there, as effortless as it was grounding, but now it came with an undercurrent you couldn’t name, something unspoken threading its way through the pauses between your words. Ben became a comforting constant amid the chaos. He was always just a call or a text away, his presence a steady anchor even when everything else felt transient. And while you were grateful for the familiarity, it didn’t stop the butterflies that erupted every time his name lit up your phone.

Like tonight.

After a gruelling match and a hurried dinner that barely counted as a meal, you finally collapsed onto the hotel bed. The quiet of the room felt foreign after the noise of the day, but it was a relief until your phone buzzed on the nightstand. The call started with Ben’s face filling the screen, eyebrows raised and a smirk already in place.

“Hey, stranger,” he smiled in a sing-song tone.

“Oh, spare me,” you said, rolling your eyes but smiling despite yourself.

" 'Spare me?' ” Ben scoffed, kicking back and grinning at the screen. “Girl, you’re acting like you’re the only one with a rough schedule. What’ve you been up to? Post-match feast, or just a sad granola bar?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Neither. Quick and quiet dinner after the match, some bland pasta with a wilted salad, the usual. Real glamorous stuff.You already back to your hotel?”

“Hours ago,” he said. “Caught the highlights of your match, though. That backhand winner down the line? Chef’s kiss.” He mimed a dramatic kiss to the camera. “You’re out here stealing the show.”

“Please,” you said, rolling your eyes, and shrugging. “It wasn’t even my best match. I’ll take a win, though.”

“Don’t be modest,” Ben teased. “Meanwhile, my highlights reel was probably just me sweating buckets with my shirt clinging to me and yelling after missing a forehand.”

You smirked. “Nah, you’re too busy being ‘America’s tennis heartthrob.’ I’m sure your fangirls don’t even notice the double faults.”

Ben groaned, throwing his head back. “Not this again.”

“Oh, come on,” you grinned, teasing him. “Tall, built, All-American golden boy? I’m shocked they haven’t made you into a wax figure yet! ATP should get on that, the more I think about it.”

He leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “Is the golden boy charm working on you?”

You blinked, caught off guard, furrowing your brows. “What..? No. Shut up!”

Ben chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “Hey, I was just checking. You're the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, well…” you said, flustered, fumbling for a comeback. “I mean, I guess it’s a little funny. The way they’re all obsessed with you, I mean.”

He smirked. “Smooth save.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, looking away. “At least you’re not lonely on tour. You’ve got Bryan. Built-in travel buddy.”

Ben scrunched his face up. “Oh yeah, great idea! Let me just grab dinner with my dad after a match so he can spend two hours lecturing me about footwork and his ‘good ol’ days.’ ”

You laughed, before breaking into a pout. “Poor, poor Bryan. He just wants to hang out with his son, and you’re out here running from him.”

“I’m not running,” Ben said defensively. “I’m…um, strategically avoiding.”

“Sure you are.”

“And anyway, no one here’s like you,” he added, his tone casual but his gaze steady.

That caught you off guard. “Yeah-w-what?”

Ben’s smirk deepened. “Don’t choke now. Where’s that quick wit of yours?”

“Shut it,” you groaned, your face heating up as you pressed your face into the mattress.

“Aw, you’re blushing,” he teased, leaning closer to the camera. “Cat really got your tongue this time, huh?”

“Ben, I swear to God,” you said, groaning and burying your face in your hands and dropping the phone.

He laughed, clearly triumphant. “It’s okay, you’ll get me back at the charity doubles event in a few months. I’m counting on you to carry me.”

“Carry you?” you said, grateful for the change in topic. “I thought you were the unstoppable Ben Shelton. 'Big serves, big shots.’ "

“Yeah, yeah, but doubles is different,” he said with a shrug. “Doubles is all about teamwork. I’ll take your instructions. Like Federer and Mirka, except, y’know, cooler.”

You laughed. “Cooler? That’s a bold claim.”

“Why not?” he said, spreading his arms wide. “They’re classy, they’re unstoppable, and they look good doing it. That’s us, right? Total power couple energy.”

“Power couple?” you echoed, raising an eyebrow.

“On the court,” he clarified with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it professional.”

“You’d better,” you muttered, shaking your head, though you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling.

As the call ended and the screen faded to black, you lingered in the quiet of your room, your pulse still racing in the aftermath of his teasing grin. Your fingers traced the necklace at your throat, the metal cool under your touch, but the memory it carried, the warmth of his hands, the way his eyes had softened when he fastened it, made your chest feel full and tight all at once.

You had to admit, Ben Shelton was infuriatingly good at leaving you in this liminal space, caught somewhere between wanting to roll your eyes and wanting to let yourself fall completely into whatever this was becoming.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself off the bed and rifled through your suitcase, finding his hoodie tucked neatly inside. It was a lifeline, an anchor to him when the distance felt like too much. The fabric was soft against your cheek as you hugged it to your chest, his scent faint but unmistakable, as if he were still there, filling the room with his easy laughter and ridiculous charm. It was almost maddening how easily he got under your skin, how his words lingered long after the call had ended, tangling themselves with your thoughts and leaving you guessing.

Was he just being Ben? The not-knowing was intoxicating in its own way, a thrill and torment that made your stomach flutter and your mind race long into the night until you could fall asleep, and even then, he graced your dreams with his warmth that you could never get enough of.

For Ben, the feelings weren’t any simpler. He leaned back against his hotel bed, the phone still warm in his hand, the smile he’d worn during the call refusing to fade. You always had this way of leaving him grinning like an idiot, proud of his one-liners that caught you off guard but tonight felt different. He loved catching you off guard, how you’d try to fire back some clever retort only to stammer and fall silent, just like the first time he met you. It wasn’t just funny to him; it was endearing, that quiet vulnerability you didn’t even seem to notice. And God, you were beautiful, even in that post-match haze, hair damp and face free of makeup, exhaustion softening your edges in a way that only made you look more real, more you. He wished he could've seen you in person; he could stare at you like that for hours and still turn back for a second glimpse, never getting enough.

He sighed, rolling onto his side as his fingers hovered over a photo on his camera roll, the one where you weren’t looking, too focused on a menu, brow furrowed like the decision was life or death, another one of you in his car, casually on your phone, followed by another photo and another. He couldn’t help it; his chest tightened at the memory of moments like that, the way you made the chaos of his life feel lighter. Then there were the little things: the protein bar with your teasing note that you threw in his bag during a practice one time, or the way you seemed to know exactly when to check in when you could read how he honestly was.

It scared him sometimes, how easily you crept into his thoughts, how much he wanted to be the reason you smiled the way you had tonight. And yet, even as the thought tightened in his chest, Ben smiled again, already counting down the days until he’d see you at the charity event, knowing it just couldn't come sooner.

The atmosphere at the event was electric, a blend of effortless fun and star-studded tennis. Neon lights pulsed along the edges of the court, casting playful shadows on the buzzing crowd as a DJ spun upbeat tracks that thrummed in your chest and made the ground pulse. It was far from a serious tournament, more like a party on a tennis court, where fans and players mingled, indulging in casual games and champagne-laced banter.

You smoothed down your navy skirt, the silky white bow in your hair fluttering lightly as you stepped into the tunnel, the buzz of conversation growing louder. A little blush, a sweep of mascara, and a touch of concealer made you look radiant but understated; the only jewellery you wore was the rose-gold necklace Ben had gotten you, gleaming softly against your collarbones under the venue’s lights.

“Ready to dazzle?” another player teased as she passed by, her racket slung lazily over her shoulder. You shot her a grin, zipping up your bag as you mentally prepared for the night ahead. But before you could take another step with your bag now slung over your arm, a hand wrapped gently around your wrist, tugging you back into the shadowed corner of the tunnel.

You turned quickly, your startled expression melting into a mixture of exasperation and amusement when you saw Ben. He was leaning against the wall, grinning like he’d been waiting for this exact moment.

“Subtle as always,” you teased, arching a brow, even as your chest tightened slightly at the sight of him. It had been months, and somehow, he looked the same but different, more confident, more composed, yet just as unmistakably Ben.

He tilted his head, his grin spreading slowly. “What can I say? I like to make an entrance.”

“By sneaking up on me?” you quipped, folding your arms but unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips.

“Better than yelling, don’t you think?” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer, his presence filling the space between you. For a moment, the noise of the crowd outside felt distant, the thrum of music fading into the background.

He let his eyes roam, taking in the bow in your hair and the soft gleam of the necklace he’d picked out weeks ago. “You look…” He trailed off, his voice softer now, tinged with something he wasn’t saying. “I mean, wow.”

You felt your cheeks flush, the warmth crawling up your neck as you shifted on your feet. “Don’t start, Shelton,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any conviction.

“What? It’s a compliment.” His tone dipped, quiet but teasing, as he leaned just enough for you to catch the faint scent of his cologne. “Guess I forgot how good you clean up...y'know while still bein' all proper.”

You tried for a quick, witty comeback, but the words stumbled and caught in your throat when his eyes met yours again, warm and intent. It was like he saw through the polished image you’d carefully put together for tonight, straight to the version of you he knew best: messy hair, sweat-soaked, exhausted after a match.

“Ben...” you started, voice faltering as he smiled.

“Missed this,” he murmured, stepping even closer as he studied your face, his gaze lingering on your lips. “Missed you.”

The simplicity of it hit harder than you expected, your breath catching as he pulled you into a tight hug without hesitation. His arms wrapped around you with a sure, steady strength that made your chest ache, one hand splayed against your upper back, the other resting lightly at your waist, rubbing up and down with his thumb. Your cheek pressed into his shoulder as you let yourself lean in, your arms slipping around him.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach him properly, your nose brushing the soft skin of his neck. He smelled faintly of cologne and something clean, and when he bent slightly to press his face against your hair, the warmth of his breath sent a shiver down your spine.

Neither of you said anything at first; the hug lingered just long enough to toe the line between friendly and something more.

“Alright, lovebirds,” a voice called from behind, breaking the moment. You glanced over to see Tommy Paul strolling by with a smirk, holding a tennis racket slung over one shoulder. “Save it for the courts.”

You pulled back quickly, a small laugh spilling out despite yourself. Ben groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Ignore him,” he muttered, his other hand still resting lightly on your waist.

You shook your head, biting back a smile as you looked up at him. “Guess I should’ve known you’d bring your fan club with you.”

Ben chuckled, his thumb brushing against your side before he let his hand drop. “They’re just jealous,” he teased. Then, his grin turned sharper, more mischievous. “Besides, you’re Mirka tonight, remember? That makes me Federer.”

You rolled your eyes, already turning back toward the tunnel’s exit. “Then let’s hope you’re half as good on the court as he is.”

His laugh followed you, rich and unbothered. “Careful, Mirka, I might just have to prove it to you out there.”

You smirked, stepping forward toward the light of the court. “Right. I'll see you out there, Federer.”

Ben chuckled low behind you, the sound carrying as he followed. “Better bring your A-game, Mirka.”

You both stepped into the event space, the pulse of music and hum of voices a vibrant backdrop. A waiter with a tray of champagne flutes passed by, and Ben grabbed two, handing you one. “For courage?” he teased, raising a brow.

“Or patience,” you countered with a cheeky smile, clinking your glass against his before taking a sip. The bubbles tickled your throat, a pleasant warmth settling in your chest.

The two of you drifted toward the edge of the court, lingering for a moment to take in the scene. Fans were scattered around, some waving excitedly as they noticed you both, others engrossed in their own games. The energy in the air was contagious.

“You nervous?” Ben asked, glancing down at you, his shoulder brushing yours as he leaned closer.

You scoffed lightly, tilting your head toward him. “Pfft, not even a little. You?”

“Only about carrying you,” he shot back with a teasing grin.

You laughed, a genuine, carefree sound that had him grinning even wider. “Big talk for someone who hasn’t even warmed up yet.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he said, taking a sip from his glass, his eyes never leaving yours. “Trust, I’m plenty warm now.”

The look he gave you was so direct, so warm, it sent a shiver down your spine. For a second, you almost forgot where you were, his gaze holding you in place. Then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head. “Careful, Shelton. I might start to think you’re flirting with me.”

“And if I am?” he replied, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

You didn’t answer, the sudden heat in your cheeks making you glance away. But Ben stepped closer, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken. “You’re kinda cute when you’re quiet, you know that?”

“I’m not quiet,” you retorted, though the slight stumble in your voice only made his grin deepen.

He shook his head before he got pulled into some conversation, the night stretching out with laughs. It wasn't long before it was your turn on the courts with Ben for mixed doubles with fans. The game was as lighthearted as the crowd’s energy, every point a mix of banter, champagne-fueled laughter, and effortless coordination between you and Ben. You didn’t know if it was the bubbly coursing through your veins or just the sheer ease of being around him, but the nerves that usually gripped you on a court had dissolved into something bolder, something exhilarating.

“Hey! Didn’t know you could slice like that,” Ben teased, coming up beside you after you returned a tricky serve with a clean, low shot. His grin was wide, boyish, and entirely too charming.

“Didn’t know you cared enough to notice,” you quipped back, tossing him a look over your shoulder.

His laugh was low, his eyes sparkling under the court lights. “Oh, I notice. Don’t worry about that.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away as he moved to stand closer, his shoulder brushing yours. A fan on the opposite side sent the ball flying long, and you let out a small cheer, reaching up for a high five. His palm smacked yours, but instead of letting go, his fingers lingered, curling slightly against yours to hold your hand in his big one as he leaned down just enough for only you to hear.

“Careful now,” he murmured, his voice dipping, his thumb grazing your palm. “Don’t make me think I need to keep you around full-time.”

Your stomach flipped, and you blinked up at him, thrown off by the sudden softness in his tone. “Keep up the compliments, Shelton, and I might start thinking you’re sweet.”

“I can be sweet,” he said, his grin turning a little cocky as he finally released your hand. “But only when you’re around.”

You were saved from having to respond by the start of the next point, though your heart was far too distracted to focus properly. Ben, however, didn’t seem fazed, his energy casual and relaxed as he sent a gentle lob to the next fan on the rotation. Between rallies, he wandered back to your side of the court, resting his hand briefly on the small of your back, rubbing it softly. The touch was fleeting, but it left a trail of warmth in its wake.

As you finished another easy point, Ben jogged toward you. “So, is this your strategy? Win them over with that slice and then charm me into doing all the work?”

You laughed, spinning your racket in your hand. “Oh, puh-lease. I’m doing most of the carrying here, Ben. Admit it, you’d be lost without me.”

“Lost? Nah.” He stepped closer, his voice dropping just a fraction. “Distracted? Definitely.”

Your breath caught, the weight of his gaze lingering longer than it should have. But before you could respond, another cheer from the crowd broke the moment. He stepped back, grinning as though he hadn’t just thrown your heart into overdrive.

By the end of the set, the champagne had smoothed the edges of your usual reserve, and the energy between you both crackled with something unspoken but undeniable. When you reached for another high-five after the final point, he caught your hand and tugged gently, pulling you just a step closer this time.

“We got a nice win,” he murmured, his eyes flicking down to yours.

“Mhm, and I got a nice partner,” you replied, the words falling out before you could think better of them.

His grin softened, his hand brushing lightly against your lower back again. “Careful. I might start thinking you’re trying to charm me.”

“And if I am?” you shot back, your eyes coy and big as your newfound confidence was fueled by the buzz in your veins and the way he was looking at you as if no one else in the world mattered.

Ben’s laughter was warm and rich, a blush spreading across his cheeks that wasn't just from the game. The way his eyes stayed locked on yours said everything. “Then I’d say it’s working.”

As the event wound down, you and Ben exchanged a few last high-fives with the fans. The laughter and excitement of the crowd hung in the air, but as the noise began to settle, there was a familiar, charged silence between you two. The playful teasing, the flirty glances, it was all still there, but now it had a weight to it as if the evening had somehow shifted to a different gear.

Ben caught up to you as you started to make your way toward the exit, his smile flashing as he fell into step beside you. "So, what do you think?" he asked, voice low and teasing. "Pizza? Just us? The rest are going to a restaurant downtown, but I thought we could hang out n' catch up."

You raised an eyebrow, the suggestion making your heart skip a beat. There was something about the idea of more time with him, just the two of you, that sent a rush through your chest. “Pizza?” you repeated, the buzz from the champagne still swirling inside you, but now mixing with a touch of curiosity. “After all that, you want to drag me to some random pizza joint?”

Ben grinned, his eyes full of mischief. "It's not random. It’s a little hidden gem, just a few blocks away. Trust me, it's worth it. You won’t find better pizza around here, Ben approved.”

You glanced at him, your internal struggle between teasing him and playing it cool warring inside you. There was something in the way he said it, an undeniable charm in his voice that made you want to go. The idea of quiet, easy conversation with him, without the crowd, the friends and the noise, felt too good to pass up.

"Alright, fine," you said, rolling your eyes but giving in. "But if this place turns out to be some dive with soggy crust, I’m blaming you.”

Ben laughed, his grin widening. “Deal. You’ll love it, though. I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”

The two of you began walking down the street, and the air between you seemed to settle into something new, something more intimate. The world around you felt quieter now, each step taking you farther from the noise of the event and closer to something more personal. With every step, the liquid courage from the champagne seemed to melt away, leaving behind a fluttery, almost nervous feeling in your chest. Maybe it was the lingering heat from the flirting, or maybe it was just that you were walking with him, alone.

“So,” you asked, trying to keep it light, but your curiosity bubbled through, “how many people do you drag to these random pizza spots, Ben?”

He chuckled at that, his eyes flicking over to you for a brief moment, amused. “Honestly? Not many. You’re the first one, I think.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Really? I’m the first person you’ve brought here?”

Ben shrugged casually, his grin widening with the playfulness that was so typical of him. “I don’t usually do this kind of thing. But when I find a place this good, I kinda want to share it with someone who'd 'ppreciate it, someone who's... worth it.”

His words hung in the air, and for a split second, everything between you seemed to be still. You could feel the warmth in your chest, the closeness between you suddenly feeling charged. You fought the urge to let it show, instead meeting his gaze with a playful grin.

“Well, lucky me, huh?”

“Lucky you,” Ben echoed, and his voice softened just enough that you noticed. He turned slightly toward you, his pace matching yours, steady and relaxed.

By the time you reached the pizza place, the small talk had faded into a comfortable silence, both of you still trying to make sense of whatever was happening between you. You hadn’t crossed any line yet, but with every moment, it felt more inevitable that something was to change. As you walked inside the tiny pizzeria, the smell of fresh baked goods hit you immediately. The cozy, intimate atmosphere felt like a world away from the high-energy chaos of the event. Ben led you to the counter, and even though the tension between you was still palpable, it had shifted. It was no longer the playful, teasing kind of tension, it was something else. Something unspoken, but undeniable.

You had no idea where this was heading, but with Ben by your side, you were curious to find out.

You walk back toward the venue, the buzz of the event now a distant memory, stomachs full from the pizza that somehow tasted better than it had any right to. The tiny pizzeria, tucked away in a quiet corner, had been the perfect escape. The laughter that had flowed freely while you ate had washed away the tension and the drunken buzz that had clung to you both all night. It had been easy, lighthearted, comfortable, like nothing had changed, even though everything had.

As the two of you strolled back under the glow of the streetlights, a comfortable silence settled between you. The air was cool, a light breeze weaving through the night. The only sound was the rhythm of your shoes on the pavement. Yet, inside, you both felt the weight of what hadn’t been said.

Ben’s hands were stuffed in his pockets as he kept pace with you, his easy stride matching yours. But something had shifted in him, his smile softer, his eyes more attentive as he glanced at you. “You look really good tonight, you know that?”

You laughed lightly, rolling your eyes as you shook your head. “Ben, you keep saying that,” you teased, “What’s the deal with you tonight? You want something?”

He grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners, genuine and unguarded. “Nah, I'm just sayin' 'cause it’s true,” he said, a slight shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Your stomach fluttered, the compliment hitting you harder than you expected. You’d heard him say things like that before, but tonight? There was something different in the way he said it. Something quieter, more sincere.

“Okay, okay,” you said with a grin, trying to mask the effect his words had on you. “I get it, I look good. Thank you.” You laughed at yourself, but Ben’s gaze never wavered from you.

Ben chuckled, his tone light but steady. “I mean it,” he repeated softly, then added, “And that necklace we got... It’s perfect for you, made for you. Looks really good on you.”

You touched the pendant on the necklace, the one he had picked out for you earlier, and it felt foreign now. Warmer, more meaningful, like it was holding a piece of the night with it. “I think you’re just saying that to flatter me,” you teased.

“I’m not,” he said seriously, his voice dropping slightly. “You really do look good. I mean you’ve always looked good, but tonight... I dunno, it’s sumn' else.”

You caught the sincerity in his words, and your heart thumped a little harder. Ben, usually the jokester, was being serious now. “Well,” you said, your voice almost breathless, “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

He smiled, a playful glint in his eyes still there, but it was softer. “Of course.”

There was a long pause as you walked side by side. The city’s lights flickered around you, the hum of the night settling into a comfortable silence. But then, something shifted. You couldn’t keep it in any longer.

“So, Ben…” you started, your voice tentative. “Are you like this with every girl you meet?”

His stride faltered for just a second, and he turned to look at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean, like ‘this’?”

“Flirty,” you let out a breath at your boldness, a teasing edge in your voice. “Like making everyone feel like they’re the only one. Are you always so... charming?” You paused, gathering your courage. “You do this with every girl?”

Ben stopped walking, his hands sliding out of his pockets as he processed your words. He tilted his head, studying your face before shaking his head.

“What girl do I have around me or talk to, besides you, Emma and my mom?” His voice was calm, but there was an honesty in it that made your chest tighten. “You’re the only girl I ever talk to like this, spend time with. So no, not every girl.”

You blinked, surprised. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, really.” He looked at you like you were asking the most obvious question. “You think I’m like this with every girl I meet? I only talk to you like this.”

That honesty hit you harder than you expected, your breath catching. You hadn’t realized how much you’d assumed about him until now. His words made your heart race.

You glanced up at him, trying to make sense of it all. But his expression said everything you needed to know.

“Yeah, duh, c'mon, Y/N” he grinned, a sincere, slightly confused smile spreading across his face. “What makes you think I’d mess around like that? It’s only you.”

You stopped walking, your mind racing as his words sank in. “Wait,” you said, a disbelieving smile spreading across your face, though your brow furrowed. “You’re telling me, you don’t talk to anyone else like this? You don’t hang out with other girls?”

Ben chuckled softly, his hands back in his pockets, but his eyes serious as he looked at you. “Nah, you’re the only one I ask to hang with. You’re the only one I text first when I’m on tour. You’re the one I call to mess around with.” He smiled like he was telling you the simplest truth in the world. “So yeah, it’s just you.”

You swallowed thickly, your heart pounding in your chest. Every word Ben had said felt like it was pulling you under, a current that you could no longer fight. You hadn’t realised how much you needed to hear him say those things until the weight of them hit you, until his words finally opened the floodgates in your chest, making your heart pound. Could it be that he valued you just as much as you did him? You let out a slow breath, the air feeling heavier now like you were standing on the edge of something monumental.

“Ben…” you whispered as you halted in your tracks, your voice unsteady but determined, a sigh escaping your lips.

It didn’t make sense. You’d always assumed Ben had people around him, always figured he was surrounded by fans or other girls, but hearing him say that you were the one, the only one, hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. You opened your mouth to try to verbalise the swirling thoughts in your head, but the words stuck, so instead, you let the silence sit between you. Then, Ben took a slow step closer, his tone shifting from casual to something more serious.

“Can I be honest with you?” His voice was lower now, the playful edge that usually made everything feel light gone.

You nodded before you could even stop yourself, feeling your heartbeat thud in your chest. There was no going back now, not with the way he looked at you.

He took a deep breath before he began, looking down the street before turning to face you.

“I like you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “Like, I really like you.” His gaze held yours, unwavering. “I know it’s probably not the best time to say it with everything going on, with our tours and us barely seein’ each other, but I can’t just let this hang on. I can’t just let it pass and regret not saying somethin’ later. I’m not that dumb.”

He exhaled like he was trying to shake off the weight of what he had just confessed, looking at you like he was unsure whether you would run or stay.

“You’ve got this way of, like... pullin’ me in, y’know? I don’t even know what to do with myself most of the time. I try to act like it's all cool like I’m just messin' around, but I can’t stop thinkin' about you, ever. And I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who gets wrapped up in somethin' like this. But here I am.”

You blinked, not sure if your heart was beating too fast or too slow. His confession hung in the air, heavier than anything either of you had said before. It was raw, and it made your chest tighten.

“I know we got months apart, and I know you probably think I’m crazy for sayin’ this now, but I had to say it.” He took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s just... It’s just you.”

You stood still for a moment, your breath catching in your throat. The weight of his confession settled over you, his words still hanging in the air, thick with meaning. Your heart raced, and you could feel your pulse at your fingertips as you tried to process everything he had just shared. Ben took another step closer, inches away from you, his eyes never leaving yours. There was an intensity in his gaze that made everything feel surreal like you were the only two people in the world. His voice softened as he spoke again, this time with more emotion than before, his words raw and unguarded.

“You know,” he started, his drawl even more pronounced now, “ever since we first met, I wanted to be in your circle. I wanted to be around you, be close to you. But when I saw you with that necklace, and my hoodie, laughin’ and lookin’ up at me like that, God, Y/N, swear I could feel my heart meltin’ right then. I don’t even know how to explain it. It just felt like... I dunno, like everything clicked.” He paused, his breath catching as if he was just now realizing how much those little moments had meant to him.

“And when you told me about your ex, Jesus, I wanted to-” He cut himself off, a flash of anger flickering in his eyes, but he quickly controlled it. “I wanted to kill that son of a-” He stopped himself again, shaking his head as if shaking off the anger.

“Not that it matters. But what matters is that I want to show you what real love is. What real care feels like. What a real man’s like, y’know?” His voice dropped even lower, barely above a whisper. “What you deserve, and then some.”

He leaned in slightly, his hand instinctively reaching for yours, fingers brushing lightly, but lingering longer than necessary.

“Hell, if you gave me a chance, even, just, like, 20 minutes?” He let out a breath, a slight chuckle escaping his lips, but there was no humour behind it, only sincerity. “I’d give you the world, and more, in that short time. Until you told me enough. But I need you to know that... it’s real. It’s all real, Y/N. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.”

You stood frozen, your mouth slightly parted, trying to catch your breath. His words hit you like a wave, each sentence making your heart race faster, your chest tightening as the weight of everything he said settled into your bones. You couldn’t speak for a second, lost in the gravity of what he had just revealed. The vulnerability, the truth in his eyes, the way his words laid bare a side of him you hadn’t seen before, it was all too much, and yet everything you hadn’t realized you wanted.

A sigh escaped your lips as the words came tumbling out of you.

“You have no idea what you do to me.” You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping you, but it was one of relief, one of release. “You drive me insane, Ben. Every time you’re around, every time you look at me like that, like I’m the only one in the room, it makes me feel things I’m not sure I know how to handle. I can’t even explain it to myself, let alone to you. It’s like I’m constantly trying to push it down, but every time you smile, or, God, when you do that thing with your eyes when you look at me like you’re the only one who really sees me…” You trailed off, the words too big to say all at once. You exhaled, shaking your head, but the relief was already washing over you. “I’ve never felt like this before. Not even close.”

Ben was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he listened. You could see the understanding in his eyes, the way he was holding back, yet completely tuned in to every word. It was different now. You felt his grip on your fingers tighten just slightly as if grounding both of you at this moment, a silent assurance that you weren’t alone in this confession.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and gentle. “You don’t have to hold back with me.” He stepped closer, his other hand lifting to gently cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath hitch. “I’ve felt it too. All of it. Every damn time I’m with you, I can’t stop thinkin’ about how much I want this. Want you.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process the depth of his words, Ben pulled you in, unable to hold back anymore. His lips found yours with a sudden, overwhelming intensity that took the air from your lungs. His kiss was deep, full of everything that had been unspoken between you two for so long, full of everything you needed and more. His hand at the back of your neck held you steady as his other arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him, the warmth of his body sending a wave of heat through you.

The late night wrapped around you like a blanket, the streetlights casting soft pools of light across the footpath, but it was the brick wall behind you that grounded you. Your back pressed against it, your hands instinctively finding his shirt, tugging him closer as if you couldn’t get enough. You felt his heartbeat against yours, steady and strong, in sync with the way your pulse quickened in response to him. Ben’s lips moved against yours with a kind of desperate gentleness, his kiss unhurried but passionate and purposeful, as if he was trying to pour everything he hadn’t said into this single moment. The world felt far away, all that existed was him and you, the weight of his confession still settling in the space between you, the understanding, the desire.

When he finally pulled back, it was only enough for your lips to part, breaths mingling between you, your chest rising and falling as if you had just run a marathon. His forehead rested against yours, and his hands slid from your face to the small of your back, holding you steady as you both tried to catch your breath.

You were still tangled up in the magic of his kiss, in the rawness of this moment, where everything finally made sense. The world seemed to slow down as you both stood there, foreheads pressed together. The air between you was thick with something unspoken, your breaths were still heavy, your heart racing, but there was also a quiet sense of relief as if you’d both been holding your breath for the longest time.

Ben leaned in slightly, his smile playful yet soft, his gaze locking with yours as the quiet of the night settled around you. "You know," he said, his voice low and teasing, "for the first time, you’ve got me completely speechless."

You couldn’t help but giggle at the silliness of it all, the way he always knew just how to make you laugh, how to make everything feel lighter. The sound of your laugh made his gummy smile widen, and before he could say anything else, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, your heart racing in a way that had nothing to do with the night or the streetlights around you. It was just him.

Everything felt right at that moment, the electricity in the air, the warmth of his touch, and the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world. Maybe you and Ben didn't make much sense together to everyone else, but to the two of you, it was clear as day.

[katkat030]

Hermitcraft/Life Series Fic Recs!!!

I am absolutely insane about so many of these and I genuinely can't recommend them enough. Like the post that inspired this, I'll probably tag authors if I know their Tumblr urls, but please let me know if you want me to remove any and I will!

Fair warning that most of these have shipping!

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But oh, the bloom by @sillyfairygarden (read here) ongoing.

Ough. Whimsy, Pearlescentmoon, the best version of desertduo I've ever read, and indecipherable sounds of me screaming. If there's one fic I ever want people to read, it's this one. There's a reason I'm putting this first, as much as I hate to pick favourites! Warning: you may will fall in love with the story. Possibly my favourite author - cannot recommend their works enough <3 (The Champion's Banquet also made me go not just a little insane)

It's an absolute necessity to highlight the tags on this one: blows a kiss to the sky. for all my pearliemoon lovers searching for wonder and whimsy in the world around you // Now with more angst! // a man leaves the life he loved to explore the beauty of the world

More fic recs under the cut!

you came at the brink of the end of the world by Anonymous/ @louiessleeplessnights (read here) ongoing.

I don't know how to even begin describing this. I think it made me fall in love with Boatem all over again. It's hilarious, sad, beautiful, Scar calls Grian trouble, they're both idiots and in love, and it's everything I'd look for in a published novel and so much more. This fic permanently altered my brain chemistry and I cannot recommend it enough times. SO SO SO well written. Warning: it's rated explicit, but a few updates ago it was just mature - chapter 20 and the first half of chapter 21 are the ones you might want to skip if that's not your jam! It's just kissing but it gets... a bit heated lmao.

An excerpt from the description:

[grian is falling from the sky, scar has more magic in his blood than he realized, and everyone else is so much better at seeing than they are]

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Redstone and Skulk by @silverskye13 (read here) ongoing.

Once again lost on how to describe this. Could I leave it at "please please please please read it I love it so much", by any chance? The worldbuilding is so fleshed out, probably my favourite example of characterisation I've ever seen and the descriptions are everything.

Helsknight and Tanguish (the hels version of Tango) are the duo ever. There's no shipping in this, just intense platonic bonds and lifetime devotion featuring a cranky knight and a pathetic wet cat. I love them so much.

Excerpt from the description:

Tanguish is Tango's hels, and they get along a lot better than most hels and their hermits should. Unfortunately, the universe wasn't made to house both of them. Helsmets were made to return to their hermits eventually, making a complete person. Except what happens when the hels is the stronger of the two? What happens if they really don't want to be?

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there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag/ @martynsimp69 (read here) complete.

Unashamed to say I binge read this in exactly two days; 26 chapters, an epilogue, accompanying mermay oneshot collection (read here) and nearly crying later, I'm here to say you should totally check it out too. Because fis 🐠 and mermaid Martyn Warning: some unethical experimentation, and I think there's mention of alcohol.

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Hot Tea by @tunastime (read here) complete.

The Ethubs fic ever (and the first one I ever read!) This is what introduced me to *gesturing vaguely* whatever the heck they have going on, and I haven't been the same since. Warning: brainrot.

I'm once again stealing something from the description since tumblr oh-so-helpfully destroyed half my draft:

“Let me over,” Bdubs says again, and as he sees Etho open his mouth in protest yet again, he lurches forward, stuttering out his words. He nearly knocks the tea out of his own hands. “Just—just for tonight. Just tonight.” Etho knows he has to divide the base between them. It's the only way to settle, now, knowing everything between them. How Bdubs shouldn't be there. Etho builds the fence. Etho divides them. And Etho divides himself in the process.

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Between Us, We Have An Ocean by inkachu (read here) complete.

Only recommending this because it made me cry, and it's so well written. No shipping, just a foster care au in which Gem and Etho are... siblings. That doesn't even begin to cover how much the story really gripped me. It's soft, it's sweet, it's sad, it's amazing. Warning: I haven't cried while reading a book in probably a decade, and this is the one exception. Not to worry, I promise it won't hurt too much (saying how it ends would be a spoiler, but I promise the ending won't haunt you forever).

It's so gooood.

An excerpt from the description:

“My mum couldn’t take care of me, so she gave me to Canada.” Gem announced cheerily, swapping her red pencil for a yellow one, drawing what could only be a sun in the top corner of her page. “Then Canada found me a new mum.” Etho clicked his tongue. “Right.” “What about your mum?” “She uh, Couldn’t take care of me either. So I go to other people’s houses and they take care of me for her.”

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From the Archives by @sixteenth-days (read here) complete.

there's also an extra bunch of character studies/AUs/very cool bonus stories called From the Archives: Marginalia (read here) complete (?)

riverbed and mouse hole/black hole from Marginalia are my personal favourites. Playing around with like the physical structure of a text that way is super inspirational. I have all of the main fics downloaded to reread offline whenever I'm travelling/away from home! There's no need to know anything about The Magnus Archives to understand - personally I'd never heard of it before reading this. Also no shipping in the main fic :)

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lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting (read here) (author's explanation of the premise here) ongoing.

Warning: I'll give the warning for this one straight up, there are heavy themes like suicide and depression - Grian is going through it! If you're going to read it at least heed the ao3 tags :)

I'm stealing an excerpt from the fic to explain this one:

This hunger is a low rumble deep at the core of him, steady in the same way one might test a newly healed bone. The kind of fragile after a respawn, when your skin has knit together but the echo of pain still lingers. It doesn't hold him hostage anymore– he can muster the strength to look past it, and that, out of everything that's happened to him over the past year, is what's most frightening.

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Time to Kill Today by RimeThyme/ @going-to-the-sun (read here)

Featuring THE Ethubs song ever, some cool references to Mindcrack, and a really ineresting take on their relationship over the years. <33 read it, you won't regret it!

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Laugh rule - list of titles that made me laugh, mainly oneshots

THE DIVORCE OF THE CENTURY by glossyblue/ @good-chimes (read here)

The Government Institute for Ghost Supervision (G.I.G.S.) by glossyblue (read here)

The Rules of Buttercup Camp by glossyblue (read here)

Dead Heat by glossyblue (read here)

Interlude from Another Reality: Married Life by sixteenthdays (read here)

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Okay 2 more fic recs and I'm done, I promise xD

You Could've Applied Online by Anonymous (read here)

Actually hilarious and such fun to read! Stealing something from the description again:

Bdubs stuttered over his words, hand holding the knife tensing around the handle as he looked around the room. Was he being pranked? Did Scar do this? He couldn’t think of another conversation that had confused him more than this. Etho’s eyes crinkled around the edges, mouth subtly changing into what Bdubs imagined was a smile as he felt irritation creep into his mind. “You’re joking right now.” Another shift under the mask. He was definitely smiling now. “How’d you guess?” Or: Bdubs kills someone (on purpose), makes people angry (NOT on purpose), and somehow gets a boyfriend in the process. Or was he a bodyguard? Bdubs doesn't really know himself. Oh, and Etho just wants to pay his rent on time. Preferably without another dead roommate.

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Spring Blossoms by Fire_Cat (read here)

Ethubs, Stardew Valley-esque. Super fun read, highly recommend :D

Stealing from the description once more:

Burnt out and exhausted with city life, Etho packs up and moves to the old abandoned farm his parents owned before he was born. It's sat empty for thirty years and it's not in a good state, but he's determined to make the most of it. The town is full of good people, and he quickly finds friendship in abundance. Amongst them all though, one stands out. Bdubs is kind and funny and exceptionally talented at a number of things. He's handsome too, and Etho can't help but crush on him, just a little bit. They get along fantastically right from day one, but Etho keeps his feelings to himself. It's just a crush, it'll go away. And besides, it's not like Bdubs would ever like him back... Right?'

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If you end up reading and enjoying any of these, PLEASE go and give the authors some love in the comments! Writing really isn't an easy feat (or quick)

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Feral | JJK One Shot

Summary: Jungkook comes back from his Global Citizen Festival and tells you something funny that happened to him. Pairing: Jungkook x f!Reader | Established Relationship, idol!au Word Count: 2.5k~ Warnings: Explicit language and mature themes, mentions of bdsm, sub space and pet play A/N: Hey guys this is my first One Shot that I've uploaded to Tumblr and I'm scared but excited to see what you think. My asks and DMs are open if you have any feedback or just wanna say hi! A big thank you to @trina864 for helping me and encouraging me to start posting on here. Hopefully I'll be coming back with more fics very soon! P.s. Horribly edited so please excuse any errors

"Did you get to watch my performance tonight?" Jungkook asks, bright eyed and bushy tailed walking into our hotel room. I look at him with a pained expression "I'm sorry baby I really wanted to but I had an early morning meeting to talk about this big case we've been working on" I explain apologetically. "Oh" he deflates, sad that I wasn't watching. "That's okay, I know how hard you've been working lately, I understand" he says nodding his head, coming over to the bed to sit next to me and see what I'm working on. He acknowledges all the sleepless nights I've been having, and no matter how much he tries to get me to come to bed, I never listen. Most early mornings he finds me sleeping on my desk having passed out from exhaustion and he picks me up and brings me to bed to get at least a few comfortable hours of rest. 

"You wanna know something funny that happened today?" he says with a toothy grin. I hum in acknowledgement and close my laptop taking a break to give him my full undivided attention. "After one of my songs today I took my inner ear out because I could hear Army chanting something and I wanted to try to understand but I couldn't. So I asked them to do it a bit louder and I guess they were barking at me. Like 'woof woof woof woof'. It happened to me before when I was on Good Morning America and I wasn't really sure what it meant but it looked like they were having fun so I think that would mean it's a good thing right?" he says with an amused expression. "Yes Jungkook it's a good thing" I say giggling at his confusion. "So what does that mean when they bark at me?" he says looking at me and tilting his head at me just like Bam does to him. 

I take a few seconds to think about it but for the life of me I can't really seem to put it into words without making it even more confusing for myself. "Um, well I guess the basic thing that it means if they think you're really hot, like beyond hot" I start. "So sexy?" he says encouraging me to continue. "Yeah pretty much and have you ever really heard the expression of 'going wild' over something?" I ask. "Yeah?" he says dragging it out starting to understand the action a little bit more but still showing some confusion. "Well it's pretty much based on that among other things. Another thing people say is 'going feral' with is like beyond going crazy like when dogs are like foaming at the mouth" I say brining up an extreme example trying to help him get the picture. "You mean like when they have rabies?" he says now thoroughly amused. "I mean kinda but not really" I say tilting my head from from side to side a few times.

"One more thing I could think to link it to would be something a little on... well a little on the explicit side" I say cringing at having to explain this one. "Explicit? Army? Noooo!" he says laughing knowing damn well he has been showing a more explicit side of himself lately, amused that Army is following suit. "You're familiar with some basic concepts of bdsm right?" I say feeling a bit awkward bringing it up. "Well... yeah we've kind dabbled in it a little bit right?" he says with a smirk and poking my side" I flinch a bit at it and laugh nervously "Yeah but anyways, have you heard about pet play?" I ask hoping that I won't have to explain it too much. He tilts his his head up towards the ceiling in thought trying to remember if he's heard anything about it but comes up empty handed. "Mmm can't say that I have" he says and waits expectantly for my continued explanation. 

"Basically it kind of links to a degradation kink, you know when a person gets aroused by getting humiliated. You know, stuff like that" he nods his head showing me he's trying to follow. "So they are saying, well not all of them but I'm sure some of them are thinking this. But they are saying that they want you to degrade them and put a leash on them and treat them like they’re your pet and you can do as you please with them" I say cringing at the fact that I have to have to have this sort of conversation to begin with. "Uh huh" he says feeling slightly uncomfortable but still rather amused. "I mean you're hot so I'm not surprised that people are ready to submit to you like that. "Like you do" he says now dropping his voice an octave, making me shudder. "We're not talking about me right now" I say laughing it off, getting off the bed and putting some distance between us. Jungkook swings his legs over the edge of the bed and stares at me with a hunger in his eyes that had not been there moments ago. 

"Well why not? We're already on the subject, why not continue?" he says leaning his arms back on the bed and spreading his legs. "Because we're talking about your fans, you know Army?" I say continuing to back away from him until I hit a wall. "I don't want to talk about Army anymore, I spent some time with them today so now I want to spend some time with you" he says purposely toying with me, pushing all the right buttons. I let out a slight whimper not knowing how else to respond. "It's been a while since we tried something new hasn't it?" he says sitting up a bit. "Would you like to be my pet? Let me do whatever I want with you? I already know you like it when I call you names. What has been your favorite one recently? Slut? Whore? Bitch?" I whimper again while squeezing my thighs together. "Ah that's right, how fitting, would you like it if I put a leash on you, and let everyone see what a dirty little bitch you are for me? Make you crawl to me? I might even make you drink out of a bowl like the pretty little bitch you are. But wait that might be something you would enjoy. Would you like that pup?" he says waiting for my answer. 

I start to respond but he holds his hand up cutting me off. "Aww look at that, my dumb pup forgot that dogs don't talk. Now try again love, bark once for yes and twice for no" I squirm in place not sure exactly how to respond since the thought of it does intrigue me and I can't lie when I say that I can feel myself getting wet. He raises his brow at me waiting for me to respond and I finally decide to let out one little bark under my breath while hanging my head in shame. "I'm sorry pup what was that? I couldn't quite hear you?" I let out another bark in response now feeling my cheeks starting to heat up. "One more time for me, just a little bit louder. Do you want to be my dumb little pup? My bitch? Poor baby has made up her mind but is too embarrassed to bark. Come on, just a little louder. "Woof" I finally respond loud and clear this time, hoping he won't make me do it again. 

"Aw there we go. Looks like you aren't the dumb little bitch I thought you were. Puppy was just too shy to admit she wants me to play with her". I breathe out hoping he'll stop there but he decides to continue. "On all fours, now" he orders. This I can do, and I've done it multiple times without question when he has me in this sub space that I've been tipped over in. "Good girl" he says with a tone of voice he reserves for when he talks to Bam. For not knowing what this is he seems like quite the natural. "Baby come" he says ordering me to come to his side. I wince at the thought of me crawling over to him and he notices my hesitance, "Aw looks like my dumb little bitch still needs training. Puppy come here" he says in a more playful tone. I decide to surrender this time and crawl over to him and see his eyes rake over my body with a expression that I have never seen before but it makes me feel nervous but sexy. Once I sit in front of him I see him play with his lip rings and then rest on biting his lip for a second just gazing down on me. 

"You did so well love" he says cupping my face in his hand and rubbing his thumb over the apple of my cheek praising me for all that I've done. "You can come out if you want to" he says gently, coaxing me out of my sub space. I blink a few times and reach up to place my hand on top of his and he gives me soft smile, "There she is" he says and he looks down at me lovingly, "Looks like you really enjoyed that" he says helping me stand up. "You're one to talk" I say rubbing my aching knees that I only now just noticed. "Speaking of which you seemed like you're quite a natural for someone who isn't familiar with pet play" I say suspiciously. "Yeah about that..." he says trailing off. "Jeon Jungkook did you lie to me?" I say feeling utterly betrayed. "I'm sorry but you just looked super shy I just had to watch you explain it to me" he says pulling me onto his lap. I burry my face in the crook of his neck to hide my reddening face. 

"You're so mean"I mumble, "Aw come on you know I love you, plus look at you, you're my adorable little pup who listened so well" he says rubbing my back. I sit up and look at him, "But I thought I was your bitch" I say with a roll of my eyes. "That too, but you're my cute puppy first and foremost" he says ruffling my hair. "Hey! Don't do that!" I whine fixing it, "We're not playing like that anymore". "Alright alright, I'll stop. We can pick this up later" he says giving me a quick kiss on my cheek and placing me on the bed walking over to his bag on the floor. "Huh" I scoff, "What makes you think I wanna do that again?" I say crossing my arms over my chest. "Do I really need to see how much of a mess you've made down there right now?" my eyes widen at his words and I cross my legs in response. "Exactly" he laughs pulling out his laptop and his phone, walking over to the small couch in the corner. 

"What are you doing?" I ask curiously watching him prop up his phone. "I'm gonna go on live for a bit to check up on Army to see their reaction, especially since I dropped the teaser for 3D" he says with a smile. "You dropped it at the festival? Wow I can imagine the screams, especially after seeing their reaction to the proof teaser at your last concert in the US" I say shaking my head and smiling at the thought. "Yeah I'm even more excited to release it now!" he says feeling proud of himself. "You and Jack worked really hard on it so I'm sure they're gonna love it. Let's be real, if you just recoded a whole three minutes worth of you just breathing everyone would go crazy over it. That's basically what Hobi did in Jack in the Box right?" I finish laughing. He let's out a chuckle in response, "Yeah you're right, I'm sure it's gonna be great! Are you gonna go shower?" He asks watching me grab some stuff out of my bag. "Yeah I definitely need one, my back is killing me after having to sit in front of my computer all night. 

"Okay wait for me and I'll join you in a bit yeah?" he says with a sly smile. "You better hurry up then mister, I'm not taking a three hour shower because you're still on live" I say remembering the nights he would stay up talking to and spending time with Army. "Okay just give me like 15 minutes" he begs. I laugh and start to walk over to the bathroom but he calls out to me. "Wait!" I turn around at the sound of him, "Can I have a kiss?" he says with a pout, to which I can't help but agree to. I give him a kiss and he deepens it and he promises between kisses that he'll give me a massage to entice me into really waiting for him. I nod my head and roll my eyes and turn to walk to bathroom to which he responds with a loud slap on my ass. "Hey!" I yell back scolding him, but he puts up his finger to his lips as he presses the button to go live telling me to stay quiet. I huff silently and close the door behind me and start the shower and hear him make excuses for the noise.

"Oh I think it's just the sound of someone taking a shower next door. Yeah it's loud huh? I guess the walls are pretty thin here. Oh! Jin! Jin Hyung!" I hear him continue, sounding excited at what I could only think is the sight of Jin commenting on the live. Smiling I get into the shower and let the warm water wash away all the stress from the day until I hear a slight jiggle of the door nob. "Ya! Woman open the door!" I laugh at his pleading and leave him there complaining for a while before letting him in. "Oops" I say "I guess I forgot" I finish, feigning innocence. "Uh huh, you forgot" he says rolling his eyes at me and giving me another slap on the ass. "Just get back in the shower" he says and I give him a kiss before doing just that. 'Tonight is gonna be a long night' I think to myself as I bite my lip standing under the stream of water, waiting for him to join me.

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[smaller-comfort]

Extremely rambly thoughts on necrontyr society/marriage headcanon stuff. Some of this dovetails with the snecron biology stuff; you get 'gestational parent' and 'inseminating parent' as concepts because I'm not going to be more creative with words tonight.

At the upper levels of society, marriage is solely for cementing political alliances and the transfer of wealth. That's it. It's a legal contract between two families, and the contract lays out how wealth and power are shared and inherited between them.

Courtship would vary wildly between dynasties and even between different vassal states within a dynasty (a lot of this gets flattened out post-biotransference, alas). But before then, culturally, a dynasty from the eastern fringe might be nearly as alien to a dynasty in the west as any of the Unclean. (The fact that they've got mutually intelligible language across the galaxy is hilariously the biggest science-fantasy leap for me, I'll be honest.) Also, space-mormon Ithakas is weird as hell to everyone.

So, for example: Nihilakh crownworld nobility courtship customs involve, first and foremost, a team of lawyers, on both sides. Immediate members of the Phaeron's household probably have to get permission from the Yyth seer before even beginning the process. Courtship gifts are wildly expensive and extravagant and meticulously documented, with particular emphasis placed on the provenance of unique rarities. The exchange of courtship gifts is always a public spectacle- 'subtle' is for crypteks and lawyers.

At higher levels of society, the two people getting married might not even meet until after the paperwork is filed. Mid and lower level nobles are a bit more relaxed about it, but they're also not dealing with quite the same scale of wealth. Weddings are still ridiculously over-the-top affairs that can and will bankrupt smaller houses hoping to secure a politically advantageous match to a larger family.

Meanwhile, on Solemnace, you do see a similar emphasis on legal documentation, and rare or unique courtship gifts, but they're much less extravagant about the displays of wealth. Gifts are more often exchanged in private, and though weddings can get elaborate, it tends to be more about tasteful, elegant luxury than extravagant excess. Is this at least in part to keep their Overlord from stealing the silverware at the wedding? It's impossible to say.

Over on Mandragora, you announce your intention to court by challenging your intended to a duel. The date and time of the duel is the anticipated date of the nuptuals. Generally the intended couple will not actually fight one another, but the wedding will involve a lot of demonstrations of martial prowess, and usually there will be a ritualized duel of some sort between representatives of each family. Whichever family wins gets to officiate the wedding, and keeps the larger share of the dowry.

On Gidrim, no dueling is required, but it's customary to present your intended with some sort of hunting trophy. There'd be some kind of annual tourney or major gaming event where young necrontyr might dedicate their victories to their intended- think medieval tourneys, and knights jousting for tokens from their beloved. Now, given that gender parity is standard, this potentially means that you end up fighting against the person you're trying to court. This sort of thing is frequently the subject of romantic comedies and dramas. Gidrim weddings usually last several days, with feasting and recitations of long form epic military ballads and more games/martial demonstrations. The subsequent hangover may last up to a week, if you're doing it right.

Those would all be courtship practices for a primary spouse or consort for higher-level nobility. Polyamory is common, both for the purpose of providing heirs, and because at the end of the day a marriage contract is a business contract, and why wouldn't you try to form as many alliances as possible?

So it's not uncommon for third or fourth children to be married off as secondary spouses to vassal houses, to reinforce political ties between families. Since everyone is dying of turbo cancer, it's also not uncommon for these secondary marriage contracts to include a clause for what happens when the fourth kid in the line of succession becomes the heir apparent. (Divorce practices vary between dynasties as well, but by and large it is a fast process out of necessity.)

Secondary spouse courtship and weddings can be just as elaborate as consort matches, depending on the status/wealth of everyone involved. Usually they're not quite as involved- on the other hand, if your new intended is the Phaeron's fourth daughter, you're damn well going to go all out, or suffer the consequences.

Because of rampant fertility issues due to turbo cancer and a not insignificant amount of inbreeding among the nobility in certain dynasties, inheritance and succession frequently have nothing to do with parentage or genetics. Heirs are adopted from subsidiary families all the time. There are some families where heirs are always adopted, to reduce infighting among the actual children, or to avoid particular genetic defects.

That said, some dynasties do place a lot of weight on genetics and familial lines, so contract marriages or concubines/surrogates are frequently used to produce heirs. Any children produced via concubine are legally members of the family who owns/employs the concubine. Doesn't matter who the inseminating or gestational parent is; legally, the child has legitimate status as a member of that household. (This can afford the concubine a certain amount of status as well, or at least security; fertility is a highly sought after trait.)

(Sidebar on contraception and eugenics: contraceptive implants are used most frequently among nobility/merchant class/military officers. The further down the social ladder you go, the less available any kind of medical technology is, never mind contraceptives, and commoners/serfs/slaves are encouraged to reproduce as often as possible. Rank and file miltary, however, would be surgically sterilized, and have any viable gametes extracted for genetic testing and possible use by surrogates. Sometimes this is reversible; most of the time it isn't, because it's assumed they're going to die before they'd be able to retire and have children anyway. A majority of pregnancies result in miscarriage; many children don't make it out of infancy because of birth defects. Infanticide is still common in some parts of the galaxy, but they'll usually try to terminate a pregnancy early if it looks like it'll be nonviable.) (Maybe they do lay clutches of eggs, I'm fuzzy on a lot of these details, honestly. Not all of them- but a lot of them.)

(Zahndrekh does not get to retire to a remote garden on a mountain with Obyron to write terrible poetry and raise a bunch of fat, happy children. He thinks about it sometimes, though.) (Obyron does not want to imagine how impossibly unruly Zahndrekh's progeny would be, and is frequently, fervently glad that he's sterile.) (Also he's pretty sure 'retirement' is just what happens when you meet the wrong end of a pike.)

Circling back around to Ithakas being fucking weird, it's traditional for Ithakan dynasts to practice either parthenogenesis or self-fertilization, which is considered either taboo or just kind of gross in most other parts of the galaxy. (Not everywhere- but definitely a lot of places. Parthenogenesis is actually a fairly rare trait for necrontyr; it was considered one of the things that made Ithakka the Lawmaker holy by the original separatist cult. It's not something all of their descendents have shared due to the general weirdness/instability of necrontyr genetics.) So there's no mention of Oltyx and Djoseras's mother, because they only ever had one parent. (Does this make everything about Unnas ever so slightly worse? Sure does!)

If biotransference hadn't happened when it did, Djoseras would've been expected to start producing children as soon as it became clear that Oltyx wasn't going to live past the age of 20. (At one point someone probably floated the idea of ending the Ithakas-Ogdobekh war by marrying Oltyx to Zultanekh. Djoseras would've shot down that idea- and whoever suggested it- with extreme prejudice.) (Zultanekh still laughs about this on occasion. No one ever told Oltyx; Zultanekh certainly isn't going to.) (Zuktanekh would have suggested a contract marriage between himself and Djoseras; after all, would Zultanekh not have birthed the most magnificent sons to be seen in the history of either dynasty? Yes, yes he would have! Alas, it was not to be. Djoseras rejected Zultanekh's courting gift of sulfur wine, and anyway, Anathrosis and Unnas would have come together united in abject horror and rage at the idea.)

Ogdobekh courtship usually starts with gifts of food or wine, followed by fine metalwork- either weapons and armor, or jewelry. Ithakas courtship has similar beats, since they were an Ogdobekh subsidiary originally. They're more about subtle gestures and acts of service than material gifts, though. (Oltyx is not really aware of any of this; as kynazh, he would've been explicitly forbidden from courting because, again, Ithakas is fucking weird. Yenekh, on the other hand, would be familiar with the process, and probably had no shortage of suitors pre-biotransference. He was a little too busy being a war hero to entertain any of them seriously.) (His first true love is the sea the void fancy spaceships fancy swords duty to the dynasty.)

(Drazak courtship usually starts with fighting side by side in the horde; sharing kills, sharing food, sharing flesh. The hunger is always easier to bear when you find someone to share it with.)

Cryptek conclaves can get weird and varied as well; some are extremely insular, and any children born to members of the conclave would be raised and trained there. Others will excommunicate anyone who gets pregnant, because pregnancy interferes with certain schools of technomancy. (You cannot have a pregnant plasmancer. It ends badly for everyone involved. Chronomancy also tends to have unpredictable effects on developing embryos.) Those conclaves actively recruit new members from military and commoner castes, rather than relying on existing members to keep the population going. Generally, crypteks don't marry, because their legal obligations are to their conclave first, and then their patron.

Cryptek/noble or cryptek/merchant couples would be vanishingly rare, because most crypteks don't have the wealth or status to make a politically advantageous match. (Orikan is kind of an exception to that rule, and he would've had a number of people vying for his favor, though not so much in a courtship-leading-to-marriage kind of way. I'm torn between the idea of him slutting it up in the Sautekh court, or being universally repulsed by anyone he considers less intelligent than him. Could go either way.) Pre-biotransference, crypteks of different schools who didn't see each other as competition would be the most common pairing, but even then actual marriage would be rare. There's no wealth or power to inherit or share, so couples would be more common-law/informal.

Otherwise, it'd be bullshit academia rules dialed up to 11. "Did they...you know...publish research together?" "No, they were fucking in the library." "Oh, I thought it was something scandalous. Nevermind then."

[serahlink]

🚨 EMERGENCY COMMISSIONS OPEN🚨 tw // homeless / some med talk but not much

Reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

Making a new post to hopefully get some work for my family and I so we have somewhere to stay for tonight, since work has been very slow lately. I'm Link, and I'm a 22-year old artist, and my family and I (me + my father and younger sibling) have been homeless since November 2021. It's a long story. TL;DR version is at the same time, while I was living with a friend and my dad + younger sibling was on the road (he drove a van at the time) he had gotten into a diabetic coma and was fired by his job. Being fired meant he or my sibling didn't exactly have a home to go back to, as our relatives on both sides refused to help. At the same time, I was going to have to find someplace else since my friends grandmother was entering the late stages of her life and they had to transfer her to the nursery, meaning there was a lot of things his family had to take care of and I couldn't be there. They allowed my father, sibling and I to stay there for two weeks to give us time to find someplace else.

While I was there, I'd been doing commissions to help their family out with food, and since it was either the streets or living under a roof; I told my friend to take us to a nearby motel since we had enough for a day, and we could figure things out from there. So since then, I've been keeping us here by doing commissions ever since. Either of us haven't been able to obtain a job yet due to how hard it is for us to get our documents to get an id (we dont have a car at the moment, and saving money for the room and food is already tough as is), but recently we think we might be able to get my father's ID so he can work, were waiting on his lung condition to recover fully and get money saved up for the documents and all that before we apply to get them. So hope isn't fully lost for us, we just need to take care of some things for a while longer until then.

Recently, things have gotten worse again. We were paying weekly thanks to the help from my followers and commissions I was getting, but when we weren't able to pay for another, we went back to paying daily again. And immediately we were set back. For the past few days, we haven't been able to pay for one let alone food. We were able to pay most of it to at least stay here, thanks to the kindness of the staff, but they called us earlier to tell us if we couldn't pay everything tonight, then we'd have to leave. We owe 120 by 11pm tonight, and I thought maybe making a new post might help us since posting on my other socials hasn't done much for us lately.

My commissions are open, and if you're interested in helping us out via a commission you can contact me through my Tumblr dms since it's the easiest way to get to me. But if you can't help financially, which I totally understand, I know the economy is tough on all of us right now, please don't feel bad or anything. Reblogs also help us a ton, and it always means a lot to us.

For the commission info itself, I have it all packed into this link right here, along with examples of my art and prices. I draw mainly fantasy pertaining to the Dragon Age Series and although I know little to nothing about Baulders Gate, I have done some art of tavs before! I also do DnD work as well, so I'm used to drawing pretty unique characters. I'll also put some examples I have below. If you want something outside of that, I'm sure I can provide, just let me know upon your request! And I think that's all. Much love to you and thank you for reading, I hope you have a wonderful day/night :)

[solshifts]

how does one lucid dream?? and how are you able to shift by lucid dreaming??

Hey !! Thanks for asking ♡ Lucid dreams for me are complex but once you get the hang of it, it can be super easy !!! There's a few ways on how to do a lucid dream!! I'll explain what I do and then I'll add some other methods on how to get lucid in your dreams!! Please bare with me because this will be a longgg post!! Just want to give you guys the best info that I can. What I first recommend is downloading Oniri! Oniri is a dream app specifically for lucid dreaming! It can send you reality check reminders, and you can even document your dreams(which is something you want to do for lucid dreaming). ♡ For reality checks, you can set how often you want to get them in the app for example, you can get them every 30 minutes.. 1 hour etc;!

What to do to lucid dream: ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 1. Set your reality checks for every hour! I usually try to aim for 15 - 20 reminders a day so your consciousness can replicate what you do in real life and can induce a lucid dream. Reality checks can be as simple as counting your fingers and after you've counted all ten, push your finger through your palm and saying "am I dreaming?" ,and if it doesn't go through, then you're not dreaming yet! What reality checks do is they get your body in the habit of doing this motion and then end up doing it in your dreams! When your finger goes through your palm, you'll automatically realize your dreaming and boom! Lucid dreaming! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 2. Say affirmations through out the day!! This has helped me a ton with lucid dreaming because I expect myself to get lucid. I usually just say "I will lucid dream when I go to bed tonight" ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 3. Go to bed at a good time!! YES I'M LOOKING AT YOU... I sometimes go to bed around 10:30 pm if I'm trying for a lucid dream that day. ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 4. write your dreams down!! As much as you can in Oniri, even if its the littlest detail, it'll help you start to remember more and more!! The oniri app also has a write down your dreams reminder that you can set when you wake up but be quick because you can forget your dreams very quickly when you wake up! This will also help your dreams become more vivid and more lifelike!! ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ 5. Pick what method you want to use to induce a lucid dream!! Theres several methods in how to induce a lucid dream! The way I use is right before I go to bed I usually say to myself "I will know I'm dreaming tonight" over and over and over until I have fallen asleep. Then, when I randomly wake up in the middle of the night, I say it again when I'm super groggy until I pass out and this is how I usually induce a lucid dream for myself! The other ways on how to get into lucid dreaming is the Wake back to bed method (WBTB), and the MILD method ( which I use) ! I hope this answers the first question! ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 　

As for shifting with lucid dreaming, this topic can be a little tricky! It's not as easy as shiftok makes it look but, I'm willing to work with you guys and help you through it! ♡ First off, do NOT say that you're dreaming out loud in your dream, you subconscious will most likely get angry at you (weird right?) and the people in your dream will also get mad at you and it can actually take you out of lucidity. ♡ Once you have realize you are lucid dreaming, try the best you can to ground yourself so you don't launch yourself out of a lucid dream. Transport yourself to a very calming place! Like a field of flowers! and while you're there, I usually spin in a circle and tell myself that I'm grounded to my lucid dream for now! ♡ Now what's controversial is the whole portals thing, in my opinion, portals NEVER work. I have tried, and I quite literally got bounced right out of the portal like a whole trampoline. What I usually try to do before I get out of dreaming and wake up is, I spin in circle and tell myself affirmations for shifting(can be whatever you prefer :) ). This has made it so much easier for me to not wake up. Once you feel kind of a drop, just know you're shifting but continue to say affirmations!! ♡ You'll eventually shift to your DR self's dream and wake up in your dr!! I hope this has helped, and I'm sorry for the long explanation<3 Feel free to ask more question if you have any more!!―୨୧⋆ ˚

[utilitycaster]

@rowzeoli replied to your post “Do you think part of the D20 journalistic bias...”:

I rarely go on tumblr so sorry if you see me spamming your posts tonight, but I really enjoy your perspective and thoughts! I think I'm the journalist you're referencing in regards to the Fantasy High Junior Year article and unfortunately 1) journalists only get access to interview subjects at very specific junctions (usually press day before the series goes out or halfway through) 2) most publications are honestly Going Through It and cutting freelance rates and just not paying to cover AP

​So I'll be totally honest - I post on Tumblr because I assume it is far more unlikely to be seen and so I can vent freely (hence the fairly harsh tone of the criticism in the original post), but I guess this is a chance to clarify. I don't expect anything to change, nor do I expect you to respond; indeed, I wouldn't blame you if you block me after this. But if readership is down (and who knows? maybe it's not and I'm the outlier), this may be illuminating.

The issue with your specific article - which I brought up relatively tangential to the larger point of "at this point I think Polygon's AP/TTRPG coverage is a waste of time to read" isn't really that it's only an early look at the series; and because Fantasy High Junior Year is at this time ongoing, it's honestly entirely valid that there hasn't been a follow-up. It's, well, the "surface-level and factually wrong" issue.

Dimension 20 was by no means the pioneer of remote recording as you claim in your article; that had long been the default of smaller recorded AP shows well before pandemic lockdown for the simple reason that if you're not a media company the overhead is very low - no need to have a dedicated space or even cameras beyond decent laptops. Burrow's End's puppetry? Critical Role's Call of Cthulhu: Shadow of the Crystal Palace did shadow puppets in 2019. They had diagetic audio on the main campaign as early as 2016. I don't even like Kollok, but that's had complex set design since 2019. Meanwhile premise of the article is yet another rehash of Polygon's "Dimension 20 is CHANGING THE GAME" constant drumbeat, while your actual pull quotes from Brennan Lee Mulligan are him musing that this is simply an entry in an ancient tradition of storytelling and isn't, in fact, terribly novel. The interview fails utterly to back up your point and indeed contradicts it; I get that the timeline was probably tight but this is outright incorrect in multiple places and your argument isn't just unsupported; it's outright dismissed by the very person you claim is proving it. If the premise came before the interview, it needed to be reworked afterwards, and if it came after the interview…I'm not sure what to say, really.

This isn't your article, and I'm putting it here to illustrate that this has been a pattern for Polygon's AP coverage specifically. This article about Worlds Beyond Number is perhaps my favorite example of "this is not serious journalism:" Rusty Quill Gaming, The Adventure Zone, Friends at the Table, and NADDPod are all theater of the mind long-running podcasts (RQG's campaign lasted a whopping 7 years of real time) and that's just off the top of my head; the idea of a long-running edited audio podcast being novel is laughable. RQG and TAZ both started at level 1; I'm not personally familiar with Friends at the Table. I don't actually think starting at level 1 vs. 2 is terribly important in storytelling in the first place other than that a few D&D classes pick their subclass at L2 and that choice can be narratively relevant, which it was in TAZ; however, some classes pick a subclass at L3 so you can still achieve this with a level 2 start (as Critical Role's second campaign does). Both Emily Axford of NADDPod and Griffin McElroy of TAZ have long been composing their own music and RQG is heavily sound designed. These are not obscure pulls, either; these are some of the more well-known names in the space.

At this point, Polygon AP/TTRPG articles - by multiple different writers - simply feel like madlibs: "(actual play show) is groundbreaking in its (thing that other shows have been doing for 5+ years); I especially liked (visual effect) and (incorrect understanding of TTRPG mechanics)."

The people I allude to in the post you responded to as having egregiously uncharitable and sanctimonious takes on Daggerheart (within, again, hours of its publication) are a frequent Polygon contributor and a Rascal editor and they further my mistrust of those publications: There is this constant insistence that everything they like be "groundbreaking" and "innovating" and they will claim this even when it's demonstrably not the case, as the above examples note. As Mulligan says in your article "it’s important to keep new artists with new experiences and backgrounds flowing in," and yet by focusing intensely on high production values (difficult for smaller indie upstarts to have) and by incorrectly claiming that a well-established media company within the space like D20 invented a number of things it flat out did not, this journalism is actively, if unintentionally, working against that goal. As I put it elsewhere, Polygon's bizarre pedestaling of Dimension 20 and simultaneous putdowns of Critical Role (which turn into wild contortions when D20 mainstays like Mulligan or Aabria Iyengar collaborate with CR; for that matter others besides me have observed that Polygon acts like Spenser Starke is two different people, the genius who created Alice is Missing and the knuckle-dragging moron who put out Candela Obscura and Daggerheart) coupled with the obsession with production values over story has the whiff of claiming they're the champion of the little guy for sticking it to the 700 lb gorilla in the space and then focusing on 500 lb gorillas while making it impossible for smaller monkeys to compete because most brand new shows without the name recognition of someone like Mulligan involved can't exactly hire Rick Perry to do their models or Taylor Moore to do sound design.

I suppose a good way to put this, since I've run into this in many spaces, not just AP/TTRPG or even journalism, is that bias on its own in a subjective medium isn't inherently bad; but if something is so nakedly biased against something I love, I will, naturally, turn to it with a far more critical eye, and if its arguments are not ironclad I'm going to start noticing every structural issue in every argument and every tiny mistake. Sure, as a fan of Critical Role, and as someone who feels that Kollok was nigh-unwatchable and that Burrow's End was promising in parts but deeply flawed, I disagreed with Polygon's nonstop mud-slinging towards the former and glowing, verging on fawning reviews of the latter two. But that's not entirely damning on its own; I do get that not everyone will like Critical Role and that some people will love Kollok or Burrow's End for valid reasons. What's damning is the journalism itself is riddled with factual errors and the analysis is so weak that to call the arguments a flimsy house of cards would be generous. The opposite is also true; if Polygon's lead editor were out here repeatedly misspelling the name of one of the main characters in Worlds Beyond Number (note: this has since been corrected) but the articles had compelling arguments, even ones I disagreed with, I'd be far more forgiving, but as is? It's offering me absolutely nothing: it's poorly researched, it's poorly structured, it's poorly written, it's poorly copy-edited, and it shits on things I like seemingly just for clicks. I'm done giving clicks.

I am deeply sympathetic to the pressures facing digital journalism and media and the arts in general; as someone who is fortunate enough not to personally face those pressures and has the income to be a patron, I would love to help in my small way (and I do, at least, financially support a number of the AP shows I love). But the quality of some of this journalism is truly so bad that I can't bring myself to support the institutions putting it out; it's "dead dove do not eat" until such time as someone whose analysis and opinions I do trust cites them (or, perhaps, until there is a sea change of lead editorship). I know that this won't help the crunch, and may make it worse, but I just can't because the quality is so poor. I don't have a good solution to how to write about something that takes a lot of time to watch and process and about which the articles pay very little in return, but the current strategy of bouncing between uninformed provocateur and utter sycophant depending on the show and creators; of drooling over such surface features as shiny production and falsely claiming everything is "groundbreaking" while getting the most basic facts wrong has driven me away.

[elizabeethan]

Not With Haste

An Overboard Conclusion

Oh hi, where the hell did this come from? I'm wondering the same thing. in reality, @donteattheappleshook talked to me about oarfish maybe 2 years ago and I started writing something stupid. I always intended to finish it and post it for @the-darkdragonfly's birthday, but I never found it in me to complete it. Then tonight I found that stupid thing and I finished it. You never know when that funny little creativity bug might bite, I guess.

I've always wanted to write some form of conclusion for Overboard because it's one of my favorite things that I've written. I first published Overboard way back in May of 2021, and looking back, I've grown and learned a lot and there are things I would probably do differently if I started the story over again, but I can't see myself ever editing it because I love what I wrote. Would I rewrite it into a novel and really flesh out the story and the characters? A girlie can dream, never say never, you never know when the creativity bug might bite, etc.

I hope everyone here is well, I know I am for the most part, and I'll never stop being grateful for this little community that I found all those years ago. More than that, I'll never stop being grateful for the feeling of being able to come back after a time away. It's been fun to log back in to everything and pick up where I left off as if no time has passed. (It's been so long since I've done this so if the formatting is all messed up, I'm really sorry, but I barely knew what I was doing.)

Long story short, this story is finally complete. It's barely edited and it's not beta'd, so thank you for giving it a chance.

Rated T I think

~2300 words

Read on Ao3

Read my Other Stuff

~~~~

Even after sixteen years of marriage, Killian often finds himself wondering what on earth could possibly be going through his wife’s head. 

  The thoughts of wonderment and confusion strike him at the oddest of times, always in response to something she’s said or done and never with any sort of answer. The first time he knew he was in trouble was fifteen years ago, when he returned home from a trip to find she had adopted a rottweiler. Still, Ripple refuses to retire from her post as the Jones’ Harbor Tours’ mascot, and Emma often tries to convince him that it’s because she’s as stubborn as her father. 

  In truth, Emma Jones is the most stubborn person he has ever met in his life, a fact which will likely never be contested. 

  He finds himself confused so often that he can barely recount any examples of her free spirited nature. (She calls herself a wild child, although she often shouts at him whenever he uses the term in bed.) There was the time she impulsively began tearing up the tile flooring in the bathroom after watching three whole YouTube tutorials (her words), only to sob into his already sea-soaked sweater when she realized how physically taxing reflooring an entire room is without any experience, general tiling knowledge, materials, or help. Then there was the time she randomly asked him if he would still love her if she was a worm, and then became irrationally angry when he found himself unable to answer without first asking clarifying questions. And the incident when she questioned his loyalty to her when he refused to hunt down and kill the person who bumped into her parked car and drove off. He later discovered that the question came after she had finished some romance novel about the mafia. He chose not to dig any deeper into that one.

  All this to say: Killian’s wife is a free spirit, a wild child, a confusing, strange, barely-readable woman who stole his heart in one breath and has yet to give it back almost two decades later. 

  And, he has no idea what the bloody hell she’s talking about more than half the time. 

  He wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): have you ever see this??? In the wild??????

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: What are you doing?

  He shakes his head, as exasperated as he is filled with a warm sense of comfort, just like he always is whenever he sees the name she gave herself the moment their vows were exchanged pop onto his phone screen.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): they inhabit the atlantic ocean. *vomiting emoji*

  Killian: Stop watching National Geographic if it’s going to make you nauseous. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): that’s where you worked!!

  Killian: That’s also where we live.

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you never saw one in your sexy fisherman days? LOOK at that thing. 

  Killian quickly discovers that she’s referring to an Oarfish. They’re the longest known bonefish and inhabit very deep water, are rarely seen or caught alive, and are thought to be generally harmless. Still, he knows that these facts will not prevent his wife from overreacting, so he chooses not to bother. 

  Though she’s always hidden it well, Emma has a strange fear of creatures of the deep, as she often calls them. She’s told him that the tuna he used to pull onto the deck of his boat didn’t bother her– even though they were often almost twice her height in length and weighed upwards of 1,000 pounds– because they were no longer in the water. But the thought of running into one of those slimy bastards while swimming gives her panicky symptoms— her words. He hasn’t bothered to point out the absolute impossibility of her ever running into a giant bluefin tuna while swimming, either. After sixteen years of marriage, he’s learned which battles are better left unfought. 

  Of course, there are times when his correcting her drives her absolutely mad, often to the point of her feeling compelled to kiss him in order to shut him up, and he navigates those moments very carefully and with a smirk on his lips. 

  Killian: They aren’t known to be predatory.

  Emma (Trophy Wife) disliked “They aren’t known to be predatory.”

  Killian: Attached: 1 Image

  Killian: You see? They have small mouths and no teeth. Harmless.

  It’s unlike her to wait so long to reply, as she’s often glued to her phone at least when she’s mid conversation. But it’s almost a full two minutes that he finds himself standing in front of the display of pasta sauce, looking like a complete fool and blocking the path of an elderly woman, breath bated as he waits for a response from her. Bloody hell, he thinks to himself as he shakes his head. He’s known the woman for eighteen years and he still can hardly breathe in anticipation of whatever adorably inane thought leaves her mouth without any sort of filter. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): Attached: 1 Video

  Lovely. Even as he watches the attached video of her silently dry heaving, he’s desperately in love with her. He watches it again. 

  Her blonde hair has gone lighter over the years, streaks of white coloring through the gold in a way that makes her look somehow even more sexy and playful than when he first laid eyes on her. There are soft creases beside her eyes as she squeezes them shut, her mouth open and her tongue out as she pretends to be so violently offended by the image he sent her that it’s made her ill. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): expect consequences when you get home. even if you get the good mac and cheese. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): you KNOW how i feel about serpents and sea monsters. 

  Killian: I do. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): … and????

  Killian: I’m sorry for traumatizing you with my serpent. 

  Killian: And for how that just sounded. 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): if you’re not home in 34 minutes i’m not touching your serpent for two whole days. 

  Killian: Well, now that I'm familiar with your gag reflex… 

  Emma (Trophy Wife): 33 minutes. 

  ~~~~

  Ripple is the oldest dog Killian has ever known. Her silver snout and eyebrows catch in the setting sun, and it’s painfully obvious from her gait how sore her joints are, but still, at his arrival home, she hurries her way towards him with as much enthusiasm as she can muster. 

  Their vet has told them that she’s the healthiest dog he’s treated in a while, considering her age, and Emma uses that as a point of pride for their perfect child. 

  “Hi, darling,” he says when she finally reaches him, her soft smile lighting up her face once he drops the reusable grocery bags in order to give her a scratch behind the ears. Killian’s getting up there in age, too, but he still manages to squat down to her level and kiss her nose. 

  The two of them make quite the pair while Killian struggles back into a standing position and then they both hobble towards the front door. His fishing career was lucrative and rewarding, but dammit if it didn’t lead to stiff joints that his wife pokes fun at. She’s never met a “my husband is older than me” joke she hasn’t loved. 

  “I’m glad you both made it,” she happily chortles from the kitchen, making him smile. He’s never smiled more widely than he does with Emma. 

  “The abuse I’m subjected to,” he mutters as he drops the bags on the floor for her to peruse. It’s a deal they made years ago; Killian does the shopping because the grocery store makes Emma too itchy, and she puts the groceries away in exchange. 

  She snorts when she pulls out the bag of goldfish, sending Killian a playful smirk. “Looks like a good haul.”

  “Aye, love. I thought you might enjoy a fishy treat after our conversation.”

  “Always so thoughtful,” she murmurs as she makes her way to him. The kitchen is small, but they’ve always had just enough space for the three of them. 

  “It’s a difficult cross to bear,” he nods, catching her wrist as soon as she’s close enough to pull towards him. “But anticipating your needs is one of the many responsibilities I take very seriously.”

  Emma’s hands land on his neck, fingers tangling with the silver hair at the back of his head while her thumbs trace along his jaw. She likes to call him a silver fox when she’s feeling playful. “My perfect husband,” she says softly, voice syrupy sweet in that way that still manages to get him excited. 

  “I couldn’t be a perfect husband without my perfect wife,” he answers, earning a beaming grin that he barely catches before her lips press to his. 

  It never ends. The way he wants her has been an inferno so intense since the day they met, and it hasn’t been snuffed out in all these years. The moment she’s near him, his blood starts to simmer, and once she touches him, kisses him like she is now, he’s a goner. 

  Her tongue is soft as it sweeps over the seam of his lips, lazily working to deepen the kiss they share. She kissed him with urgency, but not with haste, never rushing but always desperate. It’s enough to have him pushing her backwards, her lower back softly pressing against the counter before he lifts her onto it. Emma’s legs part seemingly without her even thinking about it, and before either of them have a chance to put the rotisserie chicken in the refrigerator, he wonders if he should just carry her to their room. Part of him has this never ending need to show her just how desperate he still is for her. 

  But then, she speaks. 

  “Wait,” she breathes, chest rising and falling rapidly as her warm breath fans over his mouth, her forehead still pressed to his and her fingers clinging to the collar of the light sweater he wears. 

  “Yes, love?” he asks, perfectly prepared to answer whatever silly question she likely has as long as he can have her after. 

  “About the oarfish…”

  He fights a groan. “I promise you, there is absolutely no chance of you ever seeing an oarfish for as long as you live.”

  “I know, I did plenty of research while you were gone.”

  He breathes out a soft laugh, his smile growing when she kisses it. “What’s wrong, then?”

  “Would you still love me if I was an oarfish?”

  His world stops for just a moment. Just a second, really, as he tries to right his mind and will a tiny bit of blood back to his brain so that he can answer this very unimportant and yet somehow very vital question correctly. 

  “If you were an oarfish,” he starts, hand sliding up from her hip to her ribs before finding her cheek, “then I would be an oarfish. And we would be married and have a pet… eel, perhaps. Named Ripple. And we would live in a tiny oarfish cottage and be happy and in love for as long as oarfish live.”

  Emma sighs, the softest smile on her perfect lips making him crazy as her arms wrap around his neck in one of his favorite hugs. 

  “I love you,” she whispers into his ear. He’ll never tire of this. Of the soft, almost unfathomable way that the love they have for one another strikes at the most random times. 

  “I love you, too, Swan. Always. No matter what species we are.”  

  “And I love you, no matter how much older you are than me.”

  He grabs her then, hoisting her against him to the best of his ability as her ankles cross at his back. “Disrespectful,” he murmurs, carrying her from the kitchen and happily forgetting about the frozen broccoli florets, not cuts she made him buy. 

  “You better teach me a lesson, then,” she taunts with a smirk, as if that isn’t exactly what she was after. 

  “Don’t act like that isn’t exactly what you want, love.”

  “Don’t act like you don’t get off on giving me exactly what I want.”

  To that, he just returns her smirk and offers a quick smack to her ass before dropping her onto the bed they share, because he knows she’s right. For the rest of his days, he’ll be happy, as long as he has his family. 

~~~~

I'm using my old tag list from 2 years ago. If you don't want to be tagged, I'm real sorry and let me know if I should remove you

@kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones-blog @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @winterbaby89 ​@ultraluckycatnd @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @jonesfandomfanatic @wefoundloveunderthelight @qualitycoffeethings @batana54 @sailtoafarawayland @deckerstarblanche @zaharadessert @pirateprincessofpizza @killianslefthook

[lannasroleplaymemes]

Roleplay Tips: "Actionable Responses"

We have all experienced, or will at some point in the future, a thread that feels like it is going nowhere. It's that feeling of reluctance to pull up the draft, of realizing it's the third or so time of experiencing dread when you see that other person respond.

You're bored with the thread. That, or you want to continue and just can't seem to think of what to do next!

There are a number of reasons why this can happen, but one of the most common ones is a lack of an actionable response from your partner. In most cases, deciding to wrap up the thread is the best thing to suggest...but most of us are just too "polite" to do that, huh? 😉But that's a post for another time.

So, what is an actionable response? Simply put, it's a reply to a thread that manages to give direction to your partner. This has NOTHING to do with matching length of post! It's just a matter of being aware that this is a collaborative effort.

Here's an example:

Character A: "I think we should invite our friends out to a party." Character B: "That's a great idea!" Character A: "It'll be a formal party. I'm going to work on the invitations tonight. I'll really go all out and make it fancy!" Character B: "Oh, I can't wait to see what you come up with! I'll be sure to wear the red dress I got over the weekend." Character A: "I'm sure it looks stunning on you. I don't know what I'm going to wear yet. I think I need to figure out the venue and the details first." Character B: "You are going to knock it out of the park! You're always so good at organizing everything!"

So, what happened? The conversation above isn't bad! However, there was "burden" placed on the writer of Character A each time. The writer of B has responded each time in similar length, but gives A little to no idea how to continue the conversation. Each reply made it the responsibility of the writer of A to come up with the direction for the conversation. Here's the breakdown:

A: Starts with the opening prompt (the party)

B: Agrees with idea

A: Elaborates on prompt

B: Enthuses about prompt, brings up new subject (dress)

A: Compliments B, brings up new subject (uncertainty)

B: Reassures A

Sometimes your character requires noncommittal responses, and this is OK to do once in awhile! But think about this in real life: If you met someone who was only this reactive to your comments and never really asked about you or your actions... Wouldn't it get a bit exhausting to talk with them? At the very least, they would appear polite but uninterested, and interactions would tend to be short.

Here's a better example for the above, one with actionable responses from B.

Character A: "I think we should invite our friends out to a party." Character B: "That's a great idea! Which friends, though? The ones from work or school?" Character A: "Why not both? I think it'd be cool to combine our social groups. Unless you think they wouldn't get along…?" Character B: "Well, you know how wild I get around Stacy on the dance floor. I wouldn't want it to reflect bad on my performance review …" Character A: "That's true, you two can get pretty unhinged. But I was thinking of theming it up to be more of a formal party. Like, make fancy invitations and everything!" Character B: "Oh, that sounds amazing! And less likely I'll start twerking, although the possibility isn't zero. Do you need any help with the invitations? Or anything else?" Character A: "I should have the invitations under control, but I'd love it if you could brainstorm the decorations. I want to go for a vintage 1950's vibe." Character B: "I am already making a Pinterest. This is going to be great! Oh, and I just bought the cutest red dress that'll work perfectly for the theme! Do you know what you want to wear? We can go window shopping later if you want!" Character A: "That would be great! Do you have pics of the dress?"

The above interaction isn't just more equal in engagement, its flow and dialogue is far more natural and prompts more detailed responses! Here's the breakdown for this one:

A: Starts with the opening prompt (the party)

B: Responds asking for more details, prompting a new subject (guest list)

A: Answers, asks for B's opinion

B: Answers, brings up a third party that A can comment on

A: Makes a comment, but chooses not to pursue subject at length; brings up new point of discussion (formal party)

B: Gives opinion, offers help

A: Accepts help, provides further prompt details (party theme)

B: Gives opinion, offers up another subject of clothing, offers up potential next direction/goal of thread (shopping)

There is a lot more "work" involved on both sides in the above example. And this is just with dialogue alone -- using descriptors and physical actions (i.e B could pull up their phone and show A the photos of their dress, or A could have started to playfully mock imitate B's dancing) also gives the other character something to respond to. This works great for Muses who canonically don't say much or are generally quiet in certain scenarios!

The ultimate goal of writing Actionable Responses is to share the responsibility of the scene, so that one writer doesn't feel burdened with directing everything and eventually associate your threads with fatigue, even subconsciously. Communication also plays a big part, too! Your responses may be actionable, but if the other writer isn't picking up any of them, it's time to pause the thread and communicate ooc and see what's up!

"Oh no! I realized I don't write a lot of Actionable Responses! Does that mean I'm a bad writer/horrible person? Do all my partners secretly hate me? Is this why I don't get any responses?"

NO. Realizing the above only means you're learning something new right now, and it is up to you if you want to employ the above suggestions or not. This thread is not meant to shame people -- it is meant to educate, and maybe even put into words what other writers feel, so that they can share and point to it when they feel responsibility is unbalanced in a thread.