#i'm sorry i just love his similes and metaphors
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vinnventure · 1 year ago
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can't get over the lyric "sweet as a grape / if you can sit in a barrel / maybe i'll wait"
the implication that the only way that the narrator and his love could share in their approach to life is if his love were to be crushed, pressed, aged... made into a wine. something that can be indulged in. more bitter. but fresh from the vine they're too sweet.
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ask-everything · 2 months ago
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ITS BOTH OF YOU, HE SHOULDNT DO THINFS WIRHOHT YOUR CONSENT AND YOU SHOULDNT ALWAYS THINK YOURE RIGHT, NOW GO TO YOUR HUSBAND AND HAVE A MINDFUL CONVERSATION
"WILL YOU SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH?! I KNOW WHAT THE PROBLEM IS, AND I DON'T ALWAYS THINK I'M RIGHT! YOU DON'T KNOW THE HALF OF ANYTHING WE WENT THROUGH! STOP ACTING LIKE YOU UNDERSTAND ME OR MY RELATIONSHIP!"
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(Drysdale had been lingering near the laundry room door, and after hearing Washford’s yelling, he walks in with a pinched sort of expression. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to pretend he didn’t hear anything. But then... he turns to the washer with a despondent expression.)
"Go on, then. What’s the problem
?"
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"The problem is you refuse to apologize for flirting with another man while I was RIGHT. THERE. You didn't even have the DECENCY to hide it. Did my love mean so little to you? Were you even sorry?!"
"How dare you act as if our love meant nothing to me! OF COURSE IT MEANT SOMETHING! I wasn't even trying to flirt! I just thought it'd be nice to spice up our damn act for once!"
"AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME?! You just went right into it! What, was it because he was young, and beautiful, and simpering sweet, draping himself all over you?! Wet from my part of the act, let me fucking tell you!"
"HE WAS FUCKING NICE TO ME! He complimented me, my looks, my skills! When the hell had been the last time you so much as simply called me handsome, back then!?"
"BULLSHIT, YOU—I—What?"
(That actually gets the washing machine to pause in utter confusion.)
"I called you beautiful all the time. What do you mean? I KNOW I complimented you every day."
"But you didn't. Not plainly. You—You’d wax poetic about
 oh, I don’t know, the sunset or the night sky or a fresh cherry blossom. Whatever little lovely thing had your true attention at the moment. And it was nice to be compared to those things, sometimes, but
 I just
 I missed being called pretty, or handsome, or beautiful. I liked knowing that you enjoyed me, and not just the idea of me. And you hadn’t used those words to describe me in
 god, I don’t even know how long."
"But it was always you. Everything was metaphor—everything was a simile. All of it was an analogy for you and everything you meant to me. Everything was about you."
(There is silence for some time before Washford speaks again.)
"
 Am I that hard to decipher
?"
(Another long moment.)
"Sometimes. Yes. More
 more often than not. It wasn’t just that, though
 I knew if you started rambling to me about the beauty of the ocean or—or whatever else had captivated you lately that it was as a comparison to me, but
 oh, I don’t know. Sometimes it was hard to know how much you truly saw me."
"I always saw you."
(Washford turns away. It is clear he can't look at his former lover right now.)
"
 I'm not apologizing until you apologize. My sin is far lesser. I do not want to be the one apologizing. Not now. Not when it still hurts."
"But it was always you. Always. You were in my thoughts
 every day. The human would bring home coffee, sighing as they drank it
 and I would think how you would energize me the same way."
"But if you had just said that—"
(Drysdale stops himself, sighing.)
“It doesn’t matter now. I never expected an apology from you, anyways. I thought you wanted absolutely nothing to do with me for the rest of our existence."
"No. I love you. I never stopped loving you. Why else is it still The Pale Betrayal?"
(Washford can't help but laugh, a watery, thin little sound.)
"I love you. I didn't want to break it off. I only don't regret it because you aren't sorry. Because
 Because it didn't mean anything, so I thought.
(Tears glisten in Drysdale’s eyes for a second before they start falling down his cheeks.)
"Of course it meant something. Of course I’m sorry! I’ve never regretted anything more in all my life, I—I’ve kicked myself for what I did to you every second of every day since it happened! Of course I’m sorry
"
(The dam breaks. Washford's own face grows wet with tears.)
"
 That's all I wanted to hear. I didn't want to break it off. You were flirting. Your hands stayed on the clothes, on me
 you were just flirting. And I have eyes. Dirk's a little morsel. Harper may make my ears bleed, but she is right to want to be protective over him when he's delicious like that. I just
 wanted you to ask. And
 if you did, while trying to keep the show going? I didn't see it. I didn't hear it."
(Drysdale chuckles ruefully, wiping at his eyes.)
"I didn’t. I didn’t ask. And I really am so sorry for that. Is... Is that really all you were waiting on? We could’ve been back together this whole time if only I’d apologized sooner
?"
"Yes. And
 goddammit, that night, I was so hurt. I should have
 I should have come back sooner. I should have seen you a day or two after. But it hurt. It felt like you'd carved my heart out and taken a bite right in front of me. It felt like I didn't matter to you."
"You always mattered to me. You never stopped mattering to me. God, I’d have been there with—with roses and an apology with in the week if I thought it’d help. I
 when you never came back, never spoke even a word to me when you usually did if we fought
 I thought you despised me. That you hated my guts. That’s the only reason I didn't apologize sooner
 I assumed you wouldn’t want to see me, that my apology would be meaningless to you, and you’d only become more furious with me
"
"For a bit
 I hated you. But not forever, and certainly not truly. But even if it would have been meaningless
 it would have been the right thing to do. Drysdale Airington, I love you, and I know you are a man who does the right thing. That is one of the multitude of reasons why I love you."
"And I love you, Washford Currents. More than I’ve ever loved anything. And
 and I know I said it once, but I’m so sorry for
 for The Pale Betrayal. And I’m sorry I ever made you feel that our love was a mere trifle. And I’m sorry that it took me this long to apologize. 
you have no idea how much I’ve missed you
"
"I’ve missed you, too. I’ve missed you—uhm—I’ve counted the days. I dreamt about you."
(Washford stumbles over his words, something he almost never does—it’s clear he’s trying to keep it simple. Drysdale blinks, like he’s taken off guard by the simplicity of the words. But then he smiles, softer than Washford has seen in years. Unable to hold himself back anymore, he steps forward to cup Washford’s cheek with a gentle hand.)
"You absolute sap. You’re just dying to go off on some speech of prose, aren’t you? ... Thank you."
"It's the only way I know how to talk. You ask me to draw your face and then cut off my right hand before I start. Uhm—you
 It's hard. It's very hard. And it makes me feel stupid that I can't say it concisely."
(Washford seems to deliberate, and then slumps in defeat.)
"
 I hate this. Please let me talk."
"Oh, go on, then. I never expected nor wanted you to speak simply all the time, anyways. I’d never rip a piece of you away like that."
(Washford breathes a sigh of relief.)
"Oh, thank god, my tongue moves freely again. I just
 I need to. There are so many thoughts in my head. I can't say anything otherwise. It's so
 robotic, so trite. 'I love you. You're pretty.' What am I, the very text-to-speech that took our human's job away?!"
"
 That's not fair to those who aren't linguistically gifted, I know. But you're not just pretty. Your eyes sparkle. They gleam with excitement, and it has stayed in my mind forever. Every single time you wanted to try and add something to the routine. You always bite off more than you can chew, and yet you gorge like a snake anyways, to spite God and all before him. And I love that."
"Your ambition will be the death of you, some beautiful, awful, graceful swan song to the raucous applause of devils and demons and angels and all manners of rascals. And I will cradle your body to mine. I will perform the most sacred funeral rites. I will sing hymns into your skin to warm it before placing you into the earth. I will love you for all of my days. God, I will love you for all of my days."
(Tears begin to fall down Drysdale’s cheeks again, and it seems that hearing Washford explain how deeply he loves him in the only way he truly knows how is the breaking point for Drysdale. One moment he’s just standing there, crying and cradling Washford’s cheek. The next, he’s surging forward as he pulls Washford into a desperate, passionate kiss. And what else can Washford do but return it, but grab onto the dryer like he's a lifeline? It's because he is; it's because finally, all is right with the world.) (When they break away for air, Washford sobs. The sound cracks and splinters in his throat like glass breaking under pressure. He nearly collapses in his lover's arms.)
"Drysdale
 I missed you. I need you."
(Drysdale holds onto him just as tightly, just as desperately. He buries his face in the crook of Washford’s neck, nosing at it gently as he struggles to keep his breathing even through his tears.)
"
I need you, too—fuck, I need you
 it was like having a damn limb amputated, being without you
"
(Washford doesn't respond immediately. However, it's not that he doesn't hear him
 it's that he's trembling and his teeth almost chatter with the force of it.)
"I haven't been able to sleep. I've been having nightmares. I
 I don't know what's happening to me. I'm going insane. I feel like I'm going insane."
(Drysdale lifts his head, looking at Washford with his brow pinched in concern. He takes in the sight of his beloved, the bags under Washford’s eyes, the way he trembles, how he seems moments away from falling apart entirely
)
"
 What sort of nightmares
?"
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cicaedahums · 1 month ago
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I love that Dandadan isn't afraid of mood shifts. Like, yeah guys Momo almost died or whatever there's still like dozens of guys still actively trying to do so! Haul ass! lol
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YEAAAAH. I don't know how she got that back but yeaaaahhhh
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Welp nvm for Vamola's second wind!
Also what the fuck, you got hit by two separate explosions. The fuck is it going to take to kill this guy!?
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Rare Aira fail. She can't carry you guys through EVERY fight though, come on. 😔
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I love that this is very obviously a copy-pasted image of aira, but fuck it, YEAAAAH. YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
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Now the gang's back together even the guy none of them remember is part of the gang. Also he WOULD do the Akira slide lollll
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Well it's his note now. Anyway I'm glad time doesn't pass for Vamola when she's offscreen, it's saved her hide twice now. Also for all the grief they're giving him, Okarun COULD point out to Momo that Seiko would NOT have been a reliable aid here herself (she has duties she can't shirk without risking losing favor with a literal god, iirc something that would take her DAYS to finish giving proper thanks for).
Something I'd hope Momo knows already, but Okarun DEFINITELY knows.
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lol
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FGASDFHDFHADF THIS GUY CAN'T HAVE A FUCKING MOMENT
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Good thing Momo's house was there!
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Fairweather friends smh
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Huh.
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So it is! Learning With Dandadan.
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Aw come on not the skytree Dx
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Rip queen
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I bet he does astrology too ugh
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...I don't even want to know what this means. What does this mean.
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Mechnanical viscera is ALWAYS a good aesthetic idc. It's very good
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Yeah i figured that out based on the visuals u didn't need to make the visual metaphor again in written form as a simile lol
So yeah it's kind of about time Kinta got some focus I guess, considering he just sort of materialized and then immediately got sidelined because he acts in a way that others find off-putting at the very least. It's not the deepest backstory or anything, and I don't think it needed to be spelled out so bluntly, but I think it's fine. He's not MY favorite character, but I see why others like him/find relatable and fun about him (I've mentioned before that I personally relate HEAVILY to the "sex-pest-but-not-really" aspect alone), and I certainly don't dislike him.
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My non-Dandadan mutuals when I'm Dandadan posting
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Me on my self-esteem era
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"Right Vamola?"
Also like I love this in part bc I love literally ANY time Momo gets credited or thought about by other characters, in part bc I feel like you two could have pulled the same trick the alien used TO hijack that suit and just. Slipped in. But this IS funnier
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I don't even think he got Okarun's relayed message about the power of words, I think he just Does That
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"Momo! :D"
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You know what Okarun? I think you just don't need to have balls anymore. Sorry.
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Hmmm. I'm sure we'll never find out the answer to this at some critical point in the series.
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jfc, it's all gone to shit. What's next, the subterranians come back (the still-worst thing about Dandadan)?
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Oh shit, sudden Slit-Mouthed Woman backstory???
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lieslab · 2 months ago
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Hi! Hope u having a nice day!
Just wanted to say that your writing is unreal because damn you hit those feelings like a fiddle and to me, it's insane how talented of a writer you are!
However, I never thought for one second that you used AI cause yeah, your writing is insanely good like how can a human being be so good, but also: no AI could wove so much passion and touching / personal emotions in writing.
If it could, that would be scary indeed.
However, it cant.
All the comfort you give me through your writing (and headaches admittedly) are so... human.
You communicate em so well and really make me feel every inch of it, even tackling incredible complex and difficult themes like sh n dark stuff that, as someone who dealt with a few things you wrote, feel so real, as does the comfort.
Even just relating so much makes me feel so heard that I refuse to believe ai could ever replicate it.
So I just wanted to get this chance to thank you so much for writing these masterpieces and making my day everytime.
Lots of love 💙
(Hope this wasn't too intense. I just idk it felt like this was a good chance to like thank you for everything. Sorry for bothering)
Have a lovely day đŸ’™đŸ«‚
I'm really trying to have a nice day and I hope yours is also nice. Like a fiddle đŸ„č I will always love similes and metaphors. They're one of my favorite things about writing. If there's one thing AI is good at, it's forgetting human connections. There's a certain warmth in human writing, a sprinkle of magic, and that's what makes it special.
AND HEADACHES? 😭 I'm sorry for the headaches and heartaches, but it will absolutely happen again 😅 (the headaches might reappear tonight because Hyunjin is dramatic when he's sick) I'm glad you like them though. Right now, this is easily the most fun part of my life. Where will my words take me? I never know, so even when I write, what I finish with is always a surprise.
You're not bothering me and I appreciate it a ton. This feels like virtually, you are squeezing my hands and I love that. I constantly see you interacting with my stuff and I always appreciate it. I'm not just here and writing. Sometimes, I lurk at people's pages as well.
I'm scrolling through posts, gasping and giggling. I don't always like things because it feels like I'll give myself away, but maybe I should. Sometimes some of you post things that are incredibly real and relatable.
Thank you for taking time out of your day to send this <3
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ao3feed-ateez · 6 months ago
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(long to be) close to you
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z2oMtY9 by asruh “Not to intrude, really, but I have to ask: What exactly is going on between you two?” Hongjoong raised a brow in response and asked cluelessly, “Between me and who?” Wooyoung scoffed in annoyance, “You and Seonghwa hyung, obviously-” He paused, and Hongjoong could see the gears in his head churning as he tried to formulate his thoughts. Wooyoung put his phone down on the cushion next to him and shifted to face the man he was speaking to. “I mean,” he started once again, “you guys are so odd. There's always some sort of thick and awkward tension between you two. Is everything okay with you guys?” Hongjoong stared at him quizzically, a stiff smile on his face as he processed his member’s words. “Sorry, I’m not sure I'm following. I don't know what you're talking about-” Or Hongjoong is completely enamored with his best friend and both Wooyoung and said best friend are so, so tired Words: 2564, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ) Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa Additional Tags: Pining, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, based off the cologne concert clip and matz lego live, Yearning, its so painful, wooyoung W wingman, Best Friends Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, metaphores and similes, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, Kim Hongjoong is Bad at Feelings, Jung Wooyoung is a Little Shit (ATEEZ), Kim Hongjoong-centric, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Fluff, Soft Park Seonghwa, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, theyre just really stupid, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, theyre actually extremely sickening, yearning in that specific matz way, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Beta read!!, i cant figure out how to italicize so you guys are missing out lowkey, i wrote this listening to xdinary heroes, stream night before the end, rated teen cus of language, and wooyoung's innuendos read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z2oMtY9
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swiftfootedachilles · 1 year ago
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Today I'm thinking about how Mickey just. Doesn't get nuance. Someone says something and that's what they mean, obviously. It's either 100% or 0%. He likes facts, things he can hold. Metaphors and similes and shut just don't make any fucking sense. Why can't people just state shit in plain fucking English, Ian?? He thought an apartment came with furniture and doesn't get the rules if they aren't stated. I fucking love him and his autistic coded traits so much Achilles you have no idea
helloo im so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox for so long. i try to answer my asks in the order i received them but ive given up bc i have quite a few ficlets to write!
today i had the most frustrating stereotypical autistic experience, so i am feeling this ask particularly HARD right now. my professor kept using very confusing language, and we wasted probably 15 minutes of my lesson because i had absolutely no clue what she was asking of me. please just be straightforward and dont use flowery language!!
why would they set the apartment up with furniture if they dont explicitly state that its not included in rent??? why be picky about curtain color as if that matters at all??? why treat mickey like a stupid kid when he was just trying to ask questions???!!!! i mean, even ian thought the apartment would be fully furnished, and his whole job is to be mickeys Allistic Bullshit Detector!!! and if theyre being loud in THEIR apartment that's THEIR business, why would you call the COPS over SEX NOISES???? and why do they have all these weird stupid terms for beer?? he doesnt want an ale!! he wants a BEER!!! if he tells you he wants a tall boy just hand him a fucking Old Style or a Budweiser!! it's not that difficult!!! and dont give him that "lite" shit HE WANTS THE FULL CALORIES DAMMIT!!! THIS IS HIS DINNER!!!!
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hazbinshusk · 10 months ago
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hello my queen, provider of enrichment to the sexual in my soul, the great and glorious salem, what have you (sorry if that was a bit much i just thought it sounded cool,,,) (first of all hai hello, i hope you're doing well!!! <3 :3) second !!!! salem i'd loooooove to hear your thoughts on this one- so i'm mid-brainstorm, something something DRIPPING wet pussy, something something blitz eating me out because if he kisses stolas like that then holy shit something something honey's involved bc i'm having more ideas and i just idk honey just kind of gives off a sexual vibe in the right contexts but maybe that's me ANYWAY thoughts on honeycomb as slang for pussy and/or is it already? i wrote a bit i'll send in if this does in fact receive positive feedback, but it'll only be a snippet, nothing like- for a fic or anything LMAO just,,, just a taste, one might say,,, :3333 i've been saying to do what speaks to your soul these days and FUCK am i thrilled this speaks to yours,,, <3 <3 sending all the best vibes, well wishes, and happy holidays if i'm not in your inbox sooner! <3
OKAY COOL BYEEEEE <3 <3
hi anon! look at you, bolstering my ego like that lol <3
First off, I am so intrigued by this. The honeycomb thing immediately makes me think of beelzebub/gluttony, so it could be so fun to tie beezlejuice or bee's special honey into the imagery somehow? like they're drunk on that and each other? I think that could make the honeycomb metaphor make more sense? And honey was a symbol for fertility and love in ancient religions too :)
I don't actually hate it for a term for pussy, and I'm pretty picky about the terms used in fiction lol. Like, so many are an immediate turn off. Even if you don't use it as a term for it, you could definitely write comparisons/similes like "as sweet as pure honeycomb" or something similar :)
I wouldn't use it more than once or twice in a fic personally, but I'd love to see what you come up with!
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ladyhindsight · 2 years ago
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The second part of the book begins, and I am already done with the whole quote that starts the part:
I love you as one loves certain dark things — Pablo Neruda, “Sonnet XVII”
Because it isn't even a whole quote, not even a one I can find in this form, and it's not even the whole verse. This erases the whole meaning to fit into this loving certain dark things narrative, especially considering the actual following verse:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
I also don't know what translation Clare got that from because all I can find is the latter one. ANyway. We continue with Maia and Jordan, and Jordan can go fuck himself:
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→ To begin with this, fucking hell. This refers to the ending scene of chapter 4 where Maia has a flashback to trauma Jordan caused.
He pulled her closer. He was shaking. She felt the heat of his strong body against hers as his hands slid down her back. “Maia,” he whispered. He started to lift the hem of her sweater, his fingers gripping the small of her back. His lips moved against hers. “I love you. I never stopped loving you.” You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. Her heart hammering, she jerked away from him, pulling her sweater down. “Jordan — stop.” He looked at her, his expression dazed and worried. “I’m sorry. Was that not any good? I haven’t kissed anyone but you, not since
” He trailed off. She shook her head. “No, it’s just — I can’t.” “All right,” he said. He looked very vulnerable, sitting there, dismay written all over his face. “We don’t have to do anything — ” She groped for words. “It’s just too much.”
And this fucking idiot thinks it's because he might be a bad kisser. Maia has nothing to apologize for, and I'm already sick of this chapter trying to flip this dynamic over to where Maia owns Jordan a goddamn thing.
→ The whole "I don't want to be friends" and Maia acting shocked is stupid because Jordan has come onto Maia plenty of times already that she should know what he actually means. This is all idiotic.
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Then die.
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This could've been said also by Jace, Simon, or Magnus because all the jokes are tonally and in terms of content always the same. Ha ha, two straight boys kissing. Funny.
We skip to Clary exploring the place Jace has brought her to and rummaging through a wardrobe.
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Morgenstern men love heteronormative clothing for women who wear gear meaning also pants.
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→ A scene that never happened but would've been a great callback to the previous book if it was written out.
→ Hopefully Clary would remember things that happened just a while back with a visual reminder. Also → "It had been a clear day in early October.."
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The last time the box was mentioned was in City of Bones where it is told that the box held "with the medals were one or two photos, a wedding ring, and a single lock of blond hair. Sometimes Jocelyn took the box out and opened it and held the lock of hair very gently in her hands before putting it back and carefully locking the box up again."
Which makes me question whether Clary then knew what the contents of the box actually were since there are no metals or a wedding ring. Which is fine, but what is not fine is that the box goes unmentioned for forever and once it makes an appearance, Clary is suddenly in the know of the contents and the contents themselves differ drastically from what was previously told. Continuity where?
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Here Isabelle is an outlet of Clare's bias. Different characters of course can have different opinions and preferences, but because other characters like Lucie also keep talking how brown (hair color) is ordinary and boring and how the writing keeps coming up with ridiculous similes and metaphors for every other eye color/hair color than brown or dark, it's obvious. Even more so when a little later down here Isabelle thinks blue eyes are more interesting than black.
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Meaning faerie men possibly far older than her? Shadowhunters who? Who are these Isabelle's sexy ex-dates when none is ever mentioned or makes an appearance and the premise is that the Lightwood kids have grown up pretty secluded in the New York Institute because of their parents' exile?
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So Isabelle thinks she would be more interesting if she had blue eyes instead of black ones. Because appearance is what makes to interesting, not your character. Pretty on point for the narrative.
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Just call her Jocelyn. You just did.
→ ...and saw Jocelyn looking at her. Jocelyn opened her mouth...
Or if you must, this order makes more sense:
→ ...and saw Clary's mother looking at her. Jocelyn opened her mouth...
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→ No need for any of these. This is Isabelle's PoV, we know this is what she can observe.
→ Isabelle rolled her eyes at him and turned around/away etc. Then paragraph division and the description may commence.
Cut back to the Boredom Crew.
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Thank you for the clarification. Otherwise I might have confused him to some other shared father??
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Jace has not shared that look with anyone ever because the only people with shared secrets and in the know have always been Jace and Clary because the narrative is jealous of Jace having that kind of relationship or bond with anyone else.
Also Clary has not known Jace long enough to say "in a very long time."
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→ Is he squinting?
→ No need for this, it's her PoV. Stop overexplaining.
→ Or: "His look was calculating: he was deciding what he was going to allow Jace to do, how much leash to give his "brother."
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kimilycof · 1 year ago
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OWN STORY
" GHOST OF MEMORIES "
"It's that ghost?!" Zio shocked about what he saw. Zio felt nervous when he saw a woman standing in the old mansion. Her suits us while dress. (SYNECDOCHE)
"it's a ghost! I'm afraid I'm going to faint!" (HYPERBOLE) Via said while scared.
"Don't be afraid, that's Maria the daughter of Vensomo and Victoria." Fernando said without fear as he looked at the girl in the old house.
"Maria? The San Diego's lose spirits? (METONYMY) It seems that you are not afraid, grandpa." Cyril said
"And why should I be afraid if what she suffered has comparable pain?" Fernando smiled bitterly as he looked out the window.
"What do you mean?" Zio asked.
"Maria Terres Salvesca, she has a unique beauty, pointed nose, narrow eyes, red lips and a soft voice (VISUAL) that everyone adored. She is an angel (METAPHOR) and even in other towns who come just to see her." Fernando said while smiling.
"Maria's parents are strict, so they strictly guard her wherever she goes but even so, she still couldn't avoid falling inlove with a simple man her parents were against it. Because her parents did not like the poor guy, they arranged for her to marry a rich man, Maria's parents made a way to prevent the two of them so that they couldn't meet, so Maria did nothing to hopefully go to the one she loved. Until the time has come for her to marry the man she doesn't like, but because she wants to follow her heart's desire, she run away from the wedding to go the young man she loves. But tragically happened, she found out they her beloved young man was gone. Maria returned home in tears to their mansion while screaming because she thought that the man she loved left her and tears to their mansion while screaming because she thought that the man she loved left her and found another woman. After a few days, Maria's sadness reached the point where she no longer ate or spoke because of the pain and sadness that Maria feels, she choose to end her life." Fernando said. He feel the air and he smiled in sadness. Via touch Fernando hand (TACTILE) to comfort her grandpa.
"That's hurt, does Fernando know that Maria is dead?" Via asked and she look around, the sun is too hot. (THERMAL)
"Yeah, he found out about Maria's death. He come to Maria to their favorite place but when he got there, what he saw was Maria's cold body like ice." (SIMILE) Fernando said sadly.
His three grandchildren stopped because of what they heard. The ice cream sweet that they are eating is taste bitter (GUSTATORY) now because of the story.
"Poor Maria, she ended her life because of love." John said and he smell the air and it's smell flower. (OLFACTORY)
"Are you sad?" Zio asked Via.
"Ofcourse, because the story is painful, should I be happy because of what happened to Maria?" (IRONY) She asked in sarcastic way.
Fernando laughed softly while shaking his head because of what he heard to Via.
"She abandoned the world, (EUPHEMISM) that hurt." Cyril said
"Where is that man you are taking about?" "Zio asked.
"No one knows where that man is, but what I do know is that Maria put a wound in the man's heart that he will surely feel that pain for the rest of his life, just like what Maria felt before." He said and smiled bitterly. (OXYMORON)
"Grandpa, are you crying?" Via asked while worried.
"No I'm not, I'm just sleepy. (UNDERSTATEMENT) I'll go in the house first. Let's eat later ok?" Fernando turned his back before starting to walk.
When he turned away, there were drops of tears on his face that come from his eyes and he started talking in his mind.
"Sorry my love, if I'm too late to save you sorry if the news your mother spread around the whole town was wrong and you found out but my love, I never go with another woman, I went to another country to find my missing brother that your parents didn't let you know and they hide the truth from you. I'm sorry my love."
At the last moment he looked at the mansion and saw the girl standing in the old house while looking at him and smiling but there tears on her face that come from her eyes. Maria's appearance showed sadness but her simple smile seemed to lighten her face.
The wind blew hard and the leaves flew across the sky (PERSONIFICATION) and before the girl disappeared, she mentioned what he has always wanted to hear.
"I love you Fernando," her last words.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock" sound of the clock. (AUDITORY)
And when time stopped in the middle of the night, Maria's soul was finally gone.
" THE END "
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theroyalsavage · 2 years ago
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I just read three of your one piece fics and babe let me tell you they are INCREDIBLE? I don’t often read AUs but holy shit am I glad that I read yours. I can’t decide what one is my favourite right now (especially since I'm still to read more than a portion of night - which looks amazing as anything and I'm chewing my nails waiting for the updates). They’re all just outstanding! You're a flippin talented writer and your storytelling is just absolutely captivating.
And, because I've not come across this specifically before, I have to say the way you write is just simply beautiful. How you describe things is so creative and visual that it really brings a new sort of engagement to the story. Your use of metaphors and similes is perfect. “like the serrated edge of a knife to the meat of his lungs" - as an example... this is just stunning. It gives the most vivid and intense image, and you can't help but imagine just what that must be/feel like in some way. It really helps with immersion, something that you excel at so much. Your writing has left me staring off into the distance more than once simply feeling and imagining.
(also Reiju's speech about "we're a skin graft, he's a lung" from your Hades AU is permanently ingrained in the back of my mind right now. I love that speech so freaking much that I want it printed out on my wall. It's just perfect! Again with the immersion, it's just so freaking vivid.)
Sorry, if I'm fangirling a little hard over here. I'm just so in love with your writing and storytelling. Just fucking captivated by it, bro. Catch me subscribing to you and waiting eagerly like a war widow for your next update.
(also also, every "spoilers for sanji's backstory" tag has me rolling. Iconic.)
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wow wow thank you so much omg!! it was literally SO so sweet of you to take the time to send me this message. im super glad you've liked my zosan fics and im even more honored that you like my writing style!! i'm glad my silly little tags made you laugh too :3 this message really made my entire afternoon, i'm literally screenshotting it to return to on a rainy day
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incendiorum · 2 years ago
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❝ ━ i'm calling latona, because you're being unreasonable.❞ hekate held the phone away from her witch, slipping out of reach as iovita protests grow louder and the goddess has to refrain from smirking as she dials the number and puts it on speaker. it rings twice before someone picks up, ❝ ━ hi, good afternoon, ms. latona, i need you to speak to iovita, they're being a little unreasonable and stubborn today...❞ there's nothing more amusing than seeing how iovita pouts, it's adorable.
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“ DO NOT - DO NOT - HEKATE. put the phone away. ” there’s a desperate scramble as iovita tries to grab the phone from her hand, cursing vehemently in latin when she easily dodges their attempts. they would be lying if they said they didn’t feel some kind of primal fear at her very words - latona has been the only one capable of putting them in the person equivalent of a down. stay. for seventeen centuries.
“ 'miss latona,' ” muses the voice from the other end. “ you don’t have to be so proper, hekate. just latona is fine. ”
“ oh I would call you something different, ” iovita mutters. evidently loud enough to be heard, because latona lets out an undignified snort.
“ oh? am I on speaker? salve iovita. your lovely goddess is telling me that you’re being a bit of a bitch today, hm? ”
iovita doesn’t reply, scrabbling for the phone again and huffing when hekate leans away once more. “ she’s lying. ”
“ iovita. ”
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“ I am not being unreasonable or stubborn, ” iovita hisses.
there’s a pause. “ io, you’ve been unreasonable and stubborn since I met you. and that was seventeen hundred years ago. we had to socialize you like a dog out of an animal shelter that lied to us about you being ‘sweet’ and ‘good with people.’ because you’re neither of those things. ”
“ where are you pulling these - these - ”
there’s a thoughtful cluck from latona’s end. “ metaphors? oh. no. similes, I think it would be. hekate, darling, are you enjoying this? I’m so sorry they’re being like this. and it seems to me like they’re not going to change so why don’t you both come visit me - ”
“ no! ” iovita yells, and then coughs and lowers their voice. “ no. I’ll be good. do not, ” they point at hekate, “ listen to her. we can stay right here. please. ”
@intcritus
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totskie0421 · 1 year ago
Text
My script
Bond of Friendship
Contact Information:
Joric C.tabug
Blk 2 lot 17-B Sta Lucia Phase 1
Magalang,Pampanga
"Bonds Beyond Time"
Cast of characters
Emma: The main character of the story, a lively and cheerful child who always had a wide smile and beautiful round eyes.
Alex: Emma's friend, the girl who always been there for Emma, she always understand her friend and always ready to listen for her friend. A girl who has a heart of gold.
Time
The present.
Sypnosis
In a small and cold town, there's a girl that filled with sadness and loneliness since her mother passed away.Then one day, a girl came and she always there for her best friend and she always understand and listen to her.
Setting: Park
At Rise: Her mother died and she cried a lot, she feel the sadness and loneliness.
Scene#1: In a small and cold town, Emma's mother died because her mother has a disease.
Emma: Mom why did you left me? How can I do it alone? Who will take care of me?
(Asking her mother coffin while crying)
Scene#2: After burying her mother, the wind was angry that time and she went to the park and she cry and cry while listening to the chirping of bird, tweet! tweet! A girl came and comforting her.
Alex: Hi, I'm Alex, what happen? Are you alright?
Emma: Hello, I'm Emma and no, HAHAHA I'm okay. My mother died and she was buried earlier.
(She said while sobbing)
Alex: Sorry to hear that, it's okay to cry to relief the pain, just cry Emma.
(While patting Emma's back)
Emma: I feel I'm lonely now, and no sack of rice of wealth in the world can fulfill my happiness. By the way, you have a very strong sweet scent like a vanilla ice cream, what is your perfume?
Alex: HAHAHA, a bare vanilla perfume.
Emma: I have an old news
Alex: What it is?
Emma: Nothing, just kidding HAHAHA
(She said while bursting a laugh)
Alex: You want to play? Let's play hide and seek.
Emma: Let's go, I'm the first who gonna hide and you will seek for me? It's okay with you?
( She smiled while asking Alex)
Alex: Yes of course.
Emma: Okay, thankyou
(She ran and hide and feeling the soft grass under her feet).
Scene#3: After playing, they went to the vendor of foods and they buy two chicken for the both of them and juice.
Emma: It tasted crispy and juicy, right?
(While eating, she asked Emma)
Alex: Yes, it's very delicious, I kinda like it. After eating, I will go home because it's going to be late.
Emma: You have a wheel Alex?
Alex: Yes I have.
Emma: Thankyou Alex for giving your whole heart for comforting me, thankyou for listening to me.
Alex: It's my pleasure Emma, can I be your best friend?
Emma: Sure, from now on you and I are best friend.
As time passed, Emma learned that a true friend would never disappear, even if the whole world will change. With every step she took in life, there was always a friend by her side and she is Alex. A friend that is ready to give support, love, and care.
Imagery
Thermal - cold town
Visual - wide smile and beautiful round eyes
Olfactory - very strong sweet scent
Tactile - feeling the soft grass under her feet
Auditory - while listening to the chirping of the bird, tweet! tweet!
Gustatory - it tasted crispy and juicy
Figures of speech
Hyperbole - sack of rice of wealth
Irony - I'm okay
Oxymoron - alone together
Metaphor - has a heart of gold
Simile - like a vanilla ice cream
Personification - wind was angry that time
Synecdoche - wheel
Understatement - I kinda like it
Metonymy - whole heart
Euphemism - passed away
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toomanytookas · 11 months ago
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Oh wow, this is so wonderful. Everything Marcus deserves and such a lovely exploration of path he takes to get there!
You describe the ache of his past and the disappointments that have come from it so beautiful and viscerally. I loved so many of those moments of reflection that he had... If I had to pick (which I am because otherwise I'd have quoted like a bajillion things back at you), I think the one that I loved this most was this: The ghosts of the past followed him everywhere, and it was beginning to feel like he’d always be chasing some phantom of a dream that resembled happiness.
The contrast of the peace of the wellness centre and that inner turmoil and conflict that he wars with until he finally realises that this might be the place where he finds not only his own peace but someone who matches the way he dreams and yearns and sees the world was so, so good.
I was cackling at all of his foot in mouth moments — they were so endearing and it made so much sense that he would be so flustered even as he knows that he is experiencing this sense of belonging with her and with the centre in a way that matches and perhaps surpasses the sense of having found his calling that he'd found in partners and career milestones before. (Well, that was a run on sentence... sorry!) I loved how you described his hesitancy here:
The awareness that something else existed out there for him felt cruel and imposing, like it was trying to force his hand to take the leap of faith. He’d done that before, and it’s what got him into the shadowlands in the first place
I'm so glad that he decided to take that leap and was able to realise how alike he and Bodie are and that she truly seems to understand and mirror how all in he is when he commits... sort of a sense of safety in finding his twin rather than his complement?
I am so, so, SO blown away by your language, the way you weave similes and metaphors is INCREDIBLE and it was just such a delight to read. A few of my favourites:
Every syllable that fell from her lips felt like a tugging thread, whipstitching musings and what-could-be’s across the divots in his mind and suturing them together with thoughts of her cinched in between and tucked away tight. The feeling doesn’t let up over the next few days where every interaction with her feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. He feeds off the taction and responsiveness, using those hues and depths of bliss to bring about the definitive, live rendering.
With both of these, I particularly love how they are somewhat connected to a form of art, how that sense of healing and devotion and happiness for him emerges from these visuals of the very thing he hopes to use to help people moving forward.
I also really really adored this:
The guilt of having marked her so deeply – and the guilt of how much that turns him on – occupy his thoughts as he pays his penitence with each kiss.
Something about the combination of worship and sin and pleasure always just does such lovely things in my head and this absolutely ticked all of my boxes.
Okay sorry this got so long and rambly but thank you so much for writing this and sharing with us!!
đ˜›đ˜©đ˜Ș𝘮 𝘚đ˜Șđ˜„đ˜Š 𝘰𝘧 đ˜đ˜°đ˜łđ˜Šđ˜·đ˜Šđ˜ł ║ ⓞⓝⓔàčâ“žâ“•ⓕ⓹
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|| fic masterlist || main navigation ||
This Side of Forever
| PAIRING(s): Marcus Pike x fem!OC Bodie Edunn
| RATING: explicit material | 18+ | WORD COUNT:  6.6k | CONTENT: angsty!Marcus throughout, pining?, Bodie talks a lil whimsical but that’s bc she’s based on a Goddess ok?, half of this is me self-therapizing, lots of allusions to magic and fruit, following your dreams, is somebody gonna match my freak? vibes, accepting fate, overly sentimental bc it’s Marcus duh
| SYNOPSIS: After back to back failed relationships, Marcus tries to find meaning and distraction in his work. When he's presented with an offer that appears to be a nudge in a whole new direction, he isn't sure he can make the leap of faith.
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The consultation offer had come through at just the right time. Marcus had been burnt out with his work despite the change in scenery and job title. As it turned out, being head of the International Art Theft Task Force in D.C. wasn’t a whole lot more gratifying than being Special Agent Marcus Pike with the Austin Art Squad Unit. It was a bitter pill to swallow, the rhapsodic thrill of getting a second chance at love and life in Texas turning to nothing more than ash and heartache come Virginia. 
It was torment being back in Austin for an assignment and learning that he’d ultimately been nothing more than a bridge for his would-be fiancĂ© and her now other half to finally realize what they felt for one another. It was hard to believe this was the same woman who had told him that night at dinner she, too, felt the same things for him. That she couldn’t deny their chemistry and connection. He loved that she was independent and really thought about his offer to move to D.C. with him before she’d accepted.
And then he’d gone and followed his heart again with the proposal. The words felt like poison clinging to his lips almost the moment he uttered them, her expression one of stunned anxiety making his stomach turn.  Then it all seemed okay again when she said she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, too. Looking back it was easier to see that she didn’t feel as strongly for him as he did for her, but in the moment he’d thought that maybe it was just a lot for her to take in. He had a tendency to be too much for the people he cared about.
He spent a lot of time in the aftermath of the breakup lamenting over every word and action, playing them over and over again in his head to try to figure out where he’d gone wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to fully regret honoring his emotions in the moment. He’d been forthright and honest from the start with her because it felt real. It was real. Until it all fell apart.
So, he finished his assignment and returned home to D.C. with nothing but an empty, cold apartment waiting for him. The thought of just leaving all this behind and starting over from scratch was becoming more and more appealing. The ghosts of the past followed him everywhere, and it was beginning to feel like he’d always be chasing some phantom of a dream that resembled happiness. His voluntary sabbatical might not have been the best idea with all this inner turmoil brewing, but he had to take a step back and at least attempt to get himself together. The third night in a row of packaged ramen noodles for dinner, ass firmly parked on the couch with reruns of Antiques Roadshow playing back to back, her email had come through.
He read it twice to make sure it hadn’t been sent in error. As the sole owner of the wildly successful spa and wellness center Eternity Hill Orchard, Bodie Edunn was looking for a consultant regarding the yet to be established Art Director position and coinciding Art Program for her resort. A former colleague and shared mutual had passed his name along to her with a soft endorsement for the job. The referral name checked out and everything seemed legitimate, but Marcus had been burned too many times to believe his luck could be this good.
A phone call with her the next day had that thought going right out the window. He could hear the smile in her voice and how genuinely excited she was that he received the offer and reached out. Before he knew it, agreements were outlined and plans were made. The last few weeks of his sabbatical were going to be spent back and forth between the few hours of travel from D.C. to the mountains of Virginia where Eternity Hill Orchard was located.
The payday was already enough of an incentive, but the picturesque scenery as the vehicle climbed switchback roads wasn’t too bad, either. The ascent felt like he was heading to some other world entirely, and perhaps given the constant grind of life in D.C., this was a completely different life up here in the mountains. His first step onto the grounds already felt energizing, the inhale of fresh air crisp in his lungs. 
He could just make out a distant figure atop a rather grand set of steps leading up to a striking manor structure. It was somehow modern and antique all at once, as if it had been built here so long ago that it simply transcended the concept of time. Lush greenery at every opening and slope gave an impression of liveliness and growth. Small, warm white bulbs danced in the darker recesses of the flora, and Marcus could imagine the balmy, intimate glow it would emit come nighttime. 
Despite the impressive scene, he found himself eagerly skimming back to the figure coming into focus as they climbed down the stairs towards him. The pictures and videos he’d seen of her on the website did no justice to the firsthand encounter. He’d thought it was high quality editing – something to sell the whole wellness image the business touted - but seeing her here in person made it clear there was no alteration involved.
It was hard to pinpoint an age, but she looked like she’d sipped on every enchanted youth tonic from every fairytale ever told. A “glow from within” hue to her skin. Soft, supple curvature of pink appled cheeks. Piercing but kind green eyes. A sharp mouth with a delicate cupid’s bow, all balancing the mesmerizing smile underneath.
How old was she? How could someone establish and develop this level of business acumen all before the age of 50? Was she just the face of the business while some gnarled, hunched octogenarian hid away in the shadows and counted his payday? Was she some sort of trust fund baby? Was this all just an elaborate babysitting project to keep her out of the trouble that wealthy, bored children often found themselves in?
“Marcus, I’m so glad you made it,” Bodie softly greets him as she makes it to the bottom of the stairs. She envelops him before he has time to insist on a handshake, pulling back after a moment and rubbing each of his biceps in a welcoming gesture.
He isn’t sure where to put his hands, and he internally cringes at the realization of just how touch starved he is. His mouth feels a little dry, and he can only attribute some of that to the higher altitude. “Wow. Hi. I mean– Yes. You’re– It’s beautiful,” he responds a little breathlessly. “Glad to be here.”
The mischievous twinkle in her eyes blooms into the grin curving her mouth. “I’m partial, of course, but I really think there’s nowhere else as special as here. I hope you’ll come to find the same thing.”
The closer she was to him, the thinner the air felt. The sun cast a hazy blur of light around her long flax tresses, forming a little halo of brightness that made her seem all the more ethereal and divine. Bodie had several science degrees according to the website, although it didn’t say from where or when. Maybe this place was the real deal after all. Usually these retreat spaces offered little more than a whopping dose of placebo laden manipulations meant to drain desperate people’s wallets. He tried not to be so jaded about it all, very much aware of the more bitter version of himself he’d been morphing into for the past several months.
Obliging staff appeared from nowhere and whisked his things away. He really didn’t care where his things were going or where he was being led as he walked along quietly while Bodie conducted a guided tour of the grounds and the buildings. She carried herself so effortlessly and spoke so confidently. None of it sounded rehearsed, either, as they both meandered through the picturesque backdrop of the plot. She shared all the history of the resort and the scientific approach to wellness that incorporated the native resources as much as possible.
Everything he sees is nothing short of magnificent. He can envision sitting out here and painting a quick oil landscape while Bodie sits nearby and chats. He can hear her unwavering knowledge and commentary in his mind’s eye, but he forces himself to focus on the present. The sprawling backdrop of mountains and trees and orchards frame the welcoming facilities and services here. An expansive natural swimming pond lined with large rocks that lead to private cabanas and plush lounge chairs. He wonders if Bodie ever goes swimming. 
An indoor heated pool with adjacent teak sauna. Three stories worth of amenities built right into the mountainside with multiple buildings above that she explains are guest rooms. One building has a long, shared balcony with large potted trees and rooftop gardens. The other building has private balconies with big, round lounge beds and floor to ceiling fireplaces. He wonders which one of them is hers and what she sees when she wakes every morning.
The winding decks that slope into each other feel endless, and yet Marcus could enjoy hours of hearing her talk about anything and everything. It was infectious and calming, almost like walking through an art museum and discovering all the tiny surprise gems amongst the overarching beauty of artistry. Even the staff looked young in the way of someone who has never experienced a day of stress in their life. They don plain uniforms – soft white linen shirts with loose taupe colored pants – with some sporting half aprons or utility belts, depending on their job.
It was one thing for every patron thus far to look relaxed and content, but the workers also appearing well and youthful? How on earth did Bodie manage all of this? She was still talking about some sort of zero gravity massage clinic when the intrusive thoughts got the better of him.
“So how old are you anyway?” he blurts out.
The back of his neck blazes with embarrassment, but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. She smiles at him again in that easy sort of way, and his stomach flips. Whatever secret restorative methods she had up here were certainly doing something to him. Either that or he hadn’t adjusted to the altitude yet.
“I’m thirty one,” she answers graciously.
His jaw parts, all agog and inelegant, while she titters and waves off his unspoken compliment. 
“I apologize for the question. I’m usually not so–” He motions with his hand aimlessly in the air, floundering for a coherent end to his sentence. “Your methods and programs are obviously very effective.”
“I guess you could say between the mountain air and enough apples a day to keep the doctor away for a lifetime
,” she trails off and shrugs with a lopsided smile.
God, he could really get used to seeing that. It made his knees all jittery every time she directed that energy his way. He’s so wrapped up in it that he misses something she said and has to ask her to repeat herself.
“I said: I’m proud of everything we’ve built here, but I’m always looking for what else we can incorporate to enhance the experience,” she says again. “It’s always been a sort of bad habit of mine, always looking for something to take everything to the next level.”
She doesn't even know how much it resonates with him when she says it. If he had to identify a singular fault of his, it would be the hope of the next best thing. He had a well-worn pattern of romanticizing things and letting his thoughts run away, all buoyant and hopeful. A big part of that had been stripped from him after the failed marriage, divorce, and then failed proposal, but maybe that was for the best. Maybe he wouldn’t get hurt so much if he didn’t put himself so far out there.
“I get what you mean,” he commiserates. “It can be hard to feel like you’ve done all you can. That you’ve upturned every stone and made something as good as it can be.”
Bodie eyes him thoughtfully and, after a moment of contemplation, nods. “Yes. Exactly. That’s exactly it.”
“So, am I the ‘taking it to the next level’ in this equation?” he jokes, attempting to steer the conversation back to the consultation at hand and away from things that remind him of past failures.
Her grin is devastating and intoxicating, and Marcus turns a lovely shade of pink at the poor phrasing of his question.
“I-I meant– not me personally. I meant the art director and art program,” he stammers. “You know, me being here to help with that.”
“Something like that,” she replies with a gentle laugh.
It’s not until she’s finished showing him around and walking him to his private suite that his head feels clear. Every syllable that fell from her lips felt like a tugging thread, whipstitching musings and what-could-be’s across the divots in his mind and suturing them together with thoughts of her cinched in between and tucked away tight. The feeling doesn’t let up over the next few days where every interaction with her feels like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. 
This wasn’t the same sort of draw he’d experienced before with his ex-wife and ex- fiancĂ©. This was the opposite pole of the magnet hurtling towards him and grabbing hold. This was some sameness, some kindred nucleus of existence. A funhouse mirror reflecting parts of himself back, a warped delineation. Something metaphysical and mystic putting him exactly where he was meant to be: here in this side of paradise with Bodie coming to drip soothing words of perpetuity into his ear. He belonged here, although he couldn’t exactly explain why or how he knew it to be true.
It took everything in him to focus on the task at hand. He’s better acquainted after a couple of days with the grounds, resort scheduling, and “wellness lifestyle” habits being taught and practiced. He wasn’t expecting the legitimacy in some of the newer programs, like the accredited and licensed therapists onsite who conduct group sessions as well as individualized, immersive sessions for select guests. The idea of an art based therapy program felt like a natural addition, according to Bodie. It was the “next logical step” in what Eternity Hill Orchard could offer, and he couldn’t agree more.
By the time he knew it, he’d extended his stay by three more days, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. In fact, she seemed delighted that he was even able to. For some reason, he divulged his voluntary sabbatical from work and the fact that he was only able to take this job because of it. She’d simply smiled warmly and said it “sounded like fate.”
It should’ve been hokey. It should’ve been an eyeroll the moment she turned away. Instead, he found himself inclined to agree. Throughout his rapid appraisal of the resort, it started feeling less like work and more like a challenge, something stimulating and meaningful. The overwhelming sense of magic in the atmosphere had him questioning himself almost daily. He’d take breaks from his assignment and join Bodie in several of the offerings at the resort, and every time without fail his head felt cloudy and light and elastic. He hadn’t felt this way since his first few months in the FBI when the world was laid at his feet for the taking.
He almost wished this bubble would pop already so he could fall back to reality, but day after day it remained intact. Gentle brushes of her hand. Leaning closer when they spoke. Angling her body towards him whenever he sat down next to her – and there somehow was always an empty seat, like she’d saved it just for him. The warm, dizzying embrace the first day he got here was just the beginning of an endless well. He wanted so badly to know how her lips would feel against his. He tried to stop himself imagining the sorts of sounds he could pull from her, all the ways he could make her feel good. They could fall asleep here every night together, dreaming up new programs and projects.
As much as he wanted to stretch out his time with her, he loathed the idea of wearing out his welcome or, worse yet, letting hope fester long enough to make him entertain all his delusions about a life here. The trek back home to D.C. is tedious and pallid. It’s as though every foot of elevation lost on the ride down leached color and life from the world.
The dreary silence in his apartment might be the worst of all as he sets his things down and takes a long breath – one that doesn’t feel satisfying no matter how deeply he pulls for air. At least there was an objective and a deadline to keep his mind occupied and distracted from his stifling abode. He compiled his recommendations with due heed, never rushing through the retrospection and assessment he was being generously compensated to produce.
He didn’t have any legitimate reason to go back for another visit since he’d extended his initial one by so many days. Any clarifying questions could be answered via email or phone, and it better served his timeline to not travel again right now anyway. The Art Therapy Degree Program tabs in his browser stare loudly back at him. It was initially a portion of his informational findings, but he’d made the mistake of venturing into the curiosity of what it would take for him to obtain such a degree. Turns out, not very much. The extensive training and education accrued throughout his years before and during his life as an Agent meant he was fit for most bridge programs out there.
He didn’t know what to do with this new possibility, and the knowledge of it was more disquieting than anything. The awareness that something else existed out there for him felt cruel and imposing, like it was trying to force his hand to take the leap of faith. He’d done that before, and it’s what got him into the shadowlands in the first place. It started to eat at him the longer he sat with it, and what irked him most was the sole thing he knew would make him feel better: a trip to Eternity Hill Orchard. 
He racked his brain for a reason – any reason – to go up there again. He concocted some weak excuse about needing to evaluate some of the spaces before making a final recommendation, and of course Bodie was immediately receptive. He steeled himself to remain professional and impartial about things as he made his way back to the fated resort. His late start out the door meant the sun was nearly setting by the time he arrived, but it was just as enchanting as he remembered it. Bodie wasn’t at the top of the stairs to greet him this time around, but he attempted to quell the disappointment of not seeing her by reminding himself that he was here for work and that he’d see her when it was appropriate. It was bad enough that he’d let his whims bring him here again.
After checking in and getting settled, he figures a walk around the grounds is his best bet at coming across Bodie organically. So, he sets off and silently scouts potential spots for an art studio and corresponding office space. The dwindling daylight makes the endeavor less than fruitful, but he isn’t really focused on it, anyway. He’s really just out here hoping to find her. When he turns onto a secluded pathway off the side of the natural pond, the first instance of dissonance in this place emerges: a man’s aggravated voice. A few beats and then what Marcus thinks might just be Bodie’s more neutral voice. He edges closer to the sound.
“Because it’s bullshit, and you know it,” the man fumes.
“I don’t think it’s anything of the so–”
“I come here spending an ungodly amount of money, and for what? For this sham of a place?”
Marcus picks up his pace and follows the voices until he finds Bodie standing face to face with a visibly angry man. She appears in no distress despite the aggression being hurled her way. He keeps his distance until he can fully assess the situation, but his extensive federal training has him ready to intervene if needed.
“You feel like your time here has been unproductive?” She poses the question tactfully, but the man doesn’t waver.
“Well I sure as hell thought I’d get more out of it than I have! I mean, how much time and money can I throw down the drain before I speak up for myself and demand answers?”
“And what is it you were hoping to get out of your visits here?”
“I dunno! Maybe some-some sort of control back in my life?! All this wishy washy feel good bullshit hasn’t done anything! It’s all some scam to take advantage of people like me who are desperate!” he snaps, taking a step forward with arms raised to the side.
Marcus starts to close the gap but stops when Bodie gestures for him to hang back. A glance isn’t even spared his way as she focuses her attention on the angry man.
“I hear you, and I hear your frustrations. I do, however, feel that you are missing a key consideration.”
“Oh? And what’s that?” the man laughs through his nose.
“Finding and using tools to help you regain control of your life is much more beneficial than some external force coming through and offering some temporary illusion of control. And, above all that, there are things that will never be under our authority.”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?!”“It means that, yes, we could create some fantasy of the self-actualization you’re after and make you feel like it’s true, but the whole illusion would fall apart the moment you left because it wouldn’t be real. There is no handing ‘it’ over to you – by us or anyone. The entire notion that control is something we give or take from you defeats the entire purpose of you learning to take hold of things yourself. And, you can learn all the coping skills and interventions under the sun, but they will never be useful if you try to pit them against something that will never be in your control no matter how hard you try to force it.”
The man stands straight and blinks a few times, the words overtly taking hold of something inside him.
“Part of control is acceptance, Gordon,” she explains and extends a comforting hand to his bicep. “You have to accept there are things you cannot and will not ever be able to control, and those are the things you have to learn to let go of. No amount of fighting them or screaming or anger will ever change that.”
The man – Gordon, apparently – deflates a bit at this and hangs his head. His voice becomes so quiet Marcus can’t make out half of what he’s saying. His body language speaks to remorse and embarrassment, but Marcus moves in closer just in case he is misreading the energy. He can hear the apologies now and the all too understanding acceptance of them from Bodie. Gordon catches sight of Marcus and quickly excuses himself with Bodie calling after him that she will follow up with him tomorrow.
“Well that’s a first,” Marcus quips, trying to break the dissipating tension altogether. “I was starting to believe nobody could get upset here.”
“Glad to have you back, Marcus,” she deadpans with a budding smile that gives her away.
“In all seriousness, that was, uh, that was pretty impressive.”
“What?”
“Deescalating that situation. Keeping your cool. Maintaining control of the conversation. Actually the sort of thing that makes a really great undercover or intelligence agent.”
“Well, you’d know what it takes, wouldn’t you?” she agrees warmly.
His smile falls a little at the reminder. He was, indeed, the person that would know. At the end of the day, he was still employed with the FBI. This fairy tale in the mountains was on borrowed time, and a couple of weeks from now, he’d be back to his usual responsibilities at work. It’ll be like none of this ever happened, the souvenir of a padded bank account the only remnant of this experience. The realization that he doesn’t want to be Special Agent Marcus Pike anymore hits him like a blow to the gut.
“Marcus? Are you okay?” She reaches out and slots her hand into his.
“Hm? What? Oh, oh yeah, I’m fine.” He forces a chuckle and waves off her worries, but he knows she won’t buy it.
“If you’re not too busy right now, I’d really love for you to join me on my walk.”
And of course he agrees. How could he not? Even if he knows he’s being led to the death of his guard, he can’t turn her down. The tranquil sky and mellow breeze amidst the lines of apple trees are no match for his racing mind. The last time he was here, it felt pacifying and calming. This time it feels as though all the defenses and excuses have been stripped from his brain, leaving nothing but the bare, candid emotions underneath.
“You know,” she begins, interrupting his storming thoughts, “I was thinking back to how you were talking about never being satisfied with what you’ve got. You know, how we’re both guilty of always looking for the next best thing. Worrying about ‘leaving a stone unturned’, as you put it. It made me think back to when I almost gave this up because I thought some place closer to the interstate was a better investment.”
Marcus listens in quiet disbelief as Bodie shares the memory of when she’d come across a great plot of land that was closer to the main highways in the area but located further away from the mountains. She was content at the time with the state of Eternity Hill Orchard, but it wasn’t anything near what it is today. It wasn’t even a fraction of what it is currently because she was so consumed with worry over whether or not there was something better out there. The new plot would’ve been more readily accessible for travelers, which could’ve potentially meant more patrons and a wider reach. It wasn’t until the last moment that she rescinded the offer and decided to keep what she already had and give it the devotion and nurturing it needed to thrive.
“I’m grateful every day that I didn’t go through with it,” she reflects. “The things that I thought were drawbacks were actually what made this place special. The seclusion. The terrain. You can’t get this atmosphere anywhere else. I could’ve lost all of it if I had let my fears override my instincts.”
“I couldn’t imagine this place anywhere else,” he concurs. 
“And I didn’t realize my unturned stone was right under my feet.” She levels him with a probing gaze and silently waits for him to speak.
“I’m supposed to start up my position again in a few weeks
..” he begins weakly.
She doesn’t respond beyond a gentle nod, and it compels him to keep going.
“But I don’t think– I feel like maybe there’s
 maybe there’s something else for me.” He swallows hard and drops her hand, opting instead to lean against the sturdy base of an apple tree for some kind of support.
“You found a new opportunity, but you’re afraid it’s just another case of chasing after the next best thing?” she surmises.
“Yeah, I– Something like that. I think.” He laughs and drops his head back. “God, this is so unprofessional. I apologize. I really shouldn’t be talking like this.”
She ignores his appeal to decorum and instead pushes for candor. “So, Marcus, where’s the line between romanticizing a hypothetical and following your heart?”
When he doesn’t have an answer, she leans against the tree beside him, and Marcus feels a thousand fiery licks of magnetic pull.
“This whole experience with you has made me consider leaving my work to become an Art Therapist.” It comes out before he can stop it, but he’s rewarded with a beatific smile that makes his insides feel warm and syrupy.
“You know, I have it on good intel that there’s a really nice place up in the mountains that’s in the market for an Art Therapist. I mean, they’re awaiting a report from a consultant about how to implement the Program, but still. I mean, hey, one lucky Art Therapist might just find themselves with the freedom of creating the entire structure of the Program from start to finish.”
Marcus shakes his head, unwilling to accept the insinuation of being offered a job he wasn’t even qualified for. Yet.
“And I bet that Art Therapist would be able to help a lot of people,” she adds softly. “Could really change the lives of the people he’s around.”
He turns to meet her gaze at that and fumbles for the right thing to say. “I can’t— I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”
“You didn’t ask. I offered,” she points out. 
“So, what? I’m just– I start tomorrow, just narrowing down a list of online bridge programs? Until I find one and apply? And then magically I just use that degree here?” he scoffs.
“Either that or you could spend the next few days trying and failing to talk yourself out of it,” she muses with a grin.
He balks and stalls but can’t argue with the assertion. Truth be told, he doesn’t even feel like trying to talk himself out of it. The fight left in him to ignore his heart is quickly faltering. 
“And, if I might take a turn being unprofessional, I really, really wouldn’t mind you being here on a more 
 permanent basis. It was nice having you around.”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Mmmhhmmmm.”
Marcus’s eyes flit between her glittery eyes and plush lips. All those years of unfulfilled promises melt away. Every unreciprocated outpouring of love and emotion, gone by the wayside. No more were the feelings of having so much to give without anyone to give it to.
“I really want to kiss you,” he admits in a hush.
“I thought you’d never ask,” she murmurs back.
He doesn’t give himself the opportunity to linger on hesitations. He dips his head and presses his mouth against hers and finds an ardent response. The kiss is  slow and deliberate, like so much time has been lost to the absence of it that every facet must be savored. Her tongue rolls along the ridge of his lip, and he opens with a soft gasp when she pushes their bodies together.
She tastes of sugar and earth, body firm and potent. Still, he holds her like a delicate, timeless artifact meant to be admired and cherished. He follows her pull to the cool grass below and groans at the weight of his body sagging against hers. She hooks a foot behind each knee and tugs, the shift of it sending him off balance. Her pliant body eagerly accommodates his searching hands. The dip and swell of her form under his touch has his mind tracing static orbits, something barely tethered to anything resembling cognizance.
When they finally part for a breath, chests heaving and lips swollen, he sees the incisive tenacity burning bright in her eyes. She rolls their fused bodies until his back settles against the ground, and he lies as a stone unturned beneath her feet, ready to be inverted and suffused by her entirety.
“I’ve known I wanted you from the moment we spoke on the phone,” she confesses quietly. Her hand drifts down his torso, stopping carefully at the button of his waistband.
His heart lurches at the disclosure, brazen in all its laid bare inelegance. “All I could think about was getting back to you,” he confides. “All I wanted was to be back here with you.”
Bodie’s lips crash against Marcus’s with unbridled force, the curve of her tongue licking and darting its way deeper into his mouth. The light blanket of night air ripples against their exposed skin as they hastily remove piece by piece of clothing until they’re laid bare against the strewn fabric. Bodie lies staring up at him, and Marcus somehow has the inkling of clarity left enough to pause and check in.
“Is this okay?” he pants.
“Stake your claim on your path forward, Marcus,” she purrs like it’s an invitation. “Leave your mark on what fate brought to you.”
All reason and restraint leaves his body at the call. His teeth graze and nip hungrily down her neck, across her chest, and tug at the hardened nubs he finds there all pert for his attention. Her body curves up from the ground to meet the wet slip of his mouth and rocks mindlessly when it connects with her sex.“I wanna taste you, I wanna taste you” is all she hears between greedy laps of his tongue. He ruts against the mounds of fabric laid about, desperate for any sort of friction after experiencing the high of her taste. Every little moan and gasp is a brush stroke in his portrait of her pleasure. He feeds off the taction and responsiveness, using those hues and depths of bliss to bring about the definitive, live rendering. A heavenly sound slithers up her throat when he slowly inserts two stacked fingers.
“I feel you. Christ you’re so wet,” he rasps. “Come on my fingers. I wanna feel it. C’mon, baby, come for me.”
She cries out under the careful movements of his mouth and fingers, the soft tufts of his hair gripped tight in her hands as she rides it out. His groans fill the air as he laps up each and every gush of arousal. She hauls him up to share another heated kiss, almost relishing in the taste of herself on his tongue.
Marcus breaks away first, pupils blown wide, with a small shiver running up his entire body. He knows going further is risky, and he knows, just like everything else about this moment, it’s driven entirely by raw connection and want. The feeling of finally having someone to pour himself into far too overwhelming to ignore, and there’s never been anything in his life that felt more right than everything in this moment.
“I don’t usual– I just– Can I
.?” He trails off with a glance down at his thick length, bobbing heavily with every movement and demanding attention.
Bodie branches her legs out wider to make room for him – for the place he wishes to be buried in. “Please.”
He wastes no time notching himself at her entrance and slowly feeding his cock inch by inch until he’s fully seated inside. They groan in unison at the assimilation of their bodies merging into one synchronous entity. He’s rambling now, unable to stop the torrent of declarations and hopes and craving. Admitting to having already imagined pinning her down just like he is right now, legs pressed against her chest so he can drive deeper. Not hiding the multitudes of ways he wants to profess and display his affection for her.
Bodie responds in kind. Each kiss of his cockhead against the mouth of her womb punctuated with a rush of oaths and calls to freefall into one another. She clings to him like he holds her next breath. They sway and pitch in turn with heavy breaths and wanton cries of bliss released to the sky. Her lids are heavy with exertion when he brings her upright and back flush against his chest, both of their knees digging into the ground.
“I wanna fuck you slow,” he pants, gently rocking his hips against the swell of her ass. “Wanna feel this forever. Want to take my time with you.”
She grinds back onto him, meeting stroke for stroke, and hums contentedly. “You feel so good. Feels so good.”
“Yeah? You like when I make you feel good? You gonna let me make you feel good?”
“You always make me feel good,” she breathes.
He groans and rolls his hips faster, harder. She turns her head to kiss him, latching a hand onto his neck to hold him there. The momentum of his thrusts hastens and sends her to her hands and knees, and Marcus drapes himself across the plane of her back with an arm winding tight around her chest as he drives deeper. All the noises he imagined are nothing compared to the real thing. He can feel her getting closer, and he goads her on.
“There you go–there you go–yeah–let me have it–let me have it, baby.”
He sinks his teeth into the rounded skin on her shoulder and bares down as she moans and clenches around him. Her soft flesh pillows around his bite as the kick of his cock pulses against her walls. She cries out from the sting of his marking but leans into it all the same. Their bodies slump to the ground, still connected at the crux of her thighs, but it’s still not close enough for him.
They lay together in quiet content as their highs level off. He presses the wet of his lips to each little indentation he left, and he hopes they’ll be gone by morning. The guilt of having marked her so deeply – and the guilt of how much that turns him on – occupy his thoughts as he pays his penitence with each kiss. She interrupts his amends and turns to face him, a playful smirk emerging when he hisses at the last drag of her satiny clutches.
His half-lidded, nebulous expression is mirrored, and she can’t stop herself from seeking intimacy again by way of a kiss, which he readily returns. He cradles her to the sinuous line of his body, and it’s as though she was always meant to fit there. The night sky looks down on them as they struggle to not let sleep take them right then and there.
“We should really head back,” Bodie reluctantly points out.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Marcus agrees.
The task of dressing is much more appealing with one another’s help, and they do so until each is as put together as before they came up the hill. They walk hand in hand back toward the main buildings with easy, lulling conversation to pass the time. Marcus smiles ear to ear when Bodie asks a staff member to move his things to her room.
“Wow, moving in together already?” he jokes.
“I feel like it just makes things easier since we’re going to be planning the rest of our lives, you know?” she lobs back with a cheeky grin. “Logistics and all that.”
“So I guess tomorrow is the start of my new life, huh?” he half-teases, but the undercurrent of nerves still comes through.
“I think you knowing about it is new, but I’m pretty sure it was waiting here for you all along.”
And in that moment he wanted to tell her all the ways he adored her. Confess all the varieties of hope she instilled in him. Scream from the rooftops how much he loved her.
But there was no need to rush. Those things could wait, now that he had forever to say them.
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This fic was my contribution to @perotovar's Frith Challenge where I received Marcus Pike x Idun. I don't even know where to start with how wild of a journey this fic was to write, and honestly idek if y'all would believe me if I told you lmao.
As always, thank you for reading and sharing!
catch ya later, ♄Puddles♄
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foone · 2 years ago
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"I'm not a person, I'm just a gun given human form. Your master is just the most recent to weild me."
"what, really?" Valjin raised your arms and looked underneath like she was trying to find your marionette strings. "That's powerful transformation magic! And how are you talking? Some kind of spirit bound to the form? Are you a planar demon? A rock imp?"
You pull your arms away, vaguely annoyed. Why would she need to look at your armpits even if you were a construct? "No! Not literally, you damned fool. It's a metaphor! I'm like a gun in human form."
She smiles that big smile and her dimples show. Gods. "Actually... I think if you say 'like', it's a simile, not a metaphor.
You roll your eyes, making sure to exaggerate the gesture. "wizards! You're lucky you're cute, or you'd need to find someone else to eat with."
Valjin pulls an oversized pointy hat out of her pack and puts it on, nearly covering her eyes as it sits too low on her head. She puts here arms to her hips and pouts. "as I'm sure you know, I'm just an apprentice. A cute apprentice sure, but not yet a wizard!"
You reach over and tip the hat forward, completely blinding her as it covers her face. "well then I'm sorry, cute apprentice! You had the patented Annoying Wizard Speech down so well that I thought you were the real deal."
She lifts the hat off enough for you to see that smile and those dimples. "nope! Or else I'd already be asking the master if I could borrow one of his most powerful and deadly guns in his collection." and as if to make sure you are getting the point, she pokes you in the chest.
"are you sure you could weild it? It may be too powerful a weapon for your delicate wizardly-" "apprentice!" "- your delicate apprentice-wizardly hands."
She pats your thigh. "oh, I'm sure I could manage it. You'll find that unlike the master, I can get these hands-" hands you can't help but notice as still on your thigh "a little dirty from time to time!"
You pretend to laugh, and rest your own callused hand on her shoulder, your arm stretching around her. "only a little? Pity."
She pulls the hat down a fit further in a futile attempt to hide her blushing.
The door opens, and the master leans in. "Valjin, have you seen a snorp? Little green thing, two legs, looks like a ball of yarn? One got out from the Dreaming Archives and I'm not sure where it got to."
She dismissively waves at him. "no sir. No snorps in here, just us eating lunch."
He looks around. You nod at him. "well can you help me find it? It may have gotten to the bottom of the tower by now."
She pulls the hat down and around, like it's a shield, blocking his view. "no, I'm sorry, as you can see I'm very busy with the groundskeeper. She was just telling me about the sands, wasn't she?". Valjin looks you in the eyes and leans closer. She smells of flowers and alchemy.
You swallow and try not to stutter. "Yes. I have a lot to teach her, and I wouldn't want to interrupt the lesson."
She pulls the hat in front of your faces and kisses you. Her touch is just as you would imagine a wizard (apprentice) to feel: soft and lovely.
The master goes to close the door. "well, I'll leave you to it then. Let me know if you see that snorp anywhere!" and he closes the door so quickly that the tail end of his robe catches in it, and he has to reopen it quickly to unstick himself.
You laugh and her voice is like wine.
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ao3feed-ateez · 6 months ago
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(long to be) close to you
read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z2oMtY9 by asruh “Not to intrude, really, but I have to ask: What exactly is going on between you two?” Hongjoong raised a brow in response and asked cluelessly, “Between me and who?” Wooyoung scoffed in annoyance, “You and Seonghwa hyung, obviously-” He paused, and Hongjoong could see the gears in his head churning as he tried to formulate his thoughts. Wooyoung put his phone down on the cushion next to him and shifted to face the man he was speaking to. “I mean,” he started once again, “you guys are so odd. There's always some sort of thick and awkward tension between you two. Is everything okay with you guys?” Hongjoong stared at him quizzically, a stiff smile on his face as he processed his member’s words. “Sorry, I’m not sure I'm following. I don't know what you're talking about-” Or Hongjoong is completely enamored with his best friend and both Wooyoung and said best friend are so, so tired Words: 2564, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: ATEEZ (Band) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Kim Hongjoong, Park Seonghwa, Jung Wooyoung (ATEEZ) Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa Additional Tags: Pining, Mutual Pining, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, based off the cologne concert clip and matz lego live, Yearning, its so painful, wooyoung W wingman, Best Friends Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, metaphores and similes, Kim Hongjoong is Whipped, Kim Hongjoong is Bad at Feelings, Jung Wooyoung is a Little Shit (ATEEZ), Kim Hongjoong-centric, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, Fluff, Soft Park Seonghwa, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, theyre just really stupid, Love Confessions, Idiots in Love, theyre actually extremely sickening, yearning in that specific matz way, Park Seonghwa is Whipped, Beta read!!, i cant figure out how to italicize so you guys are missing out lowkey, i wrote this listening to xdinary heroes, stream night before the end, rated teen cus of language, and wooyoung's innuendos read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/z2oMtY9
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kaeyapilled · 2 years ago
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Hey! :D I saw your post regarding Kaveh and Alhaitham fics so I was wondering if you have any recommendations. Correct me if I'm wrong, I think you said they're better as a yuri couple? I haven't read any wlw portrayals of them yet and I'm curious. No tags are too wild. Thank you and have a nice day! <3
hello! yes i do have a few kavetham fanfic recs!! however i am so sorry to disappoint you anon but i dont have any fem kavetham recs. i dont think ive read a wlw portrayal of them either. my apologies. the yuri couple thing was more of a joke since I was complaining about the way some people write them in this overdramatic 2000s yaoi manga way that im not super fond of and that happens w a lot of other mlm ships too. do you get me. when they make one of them (usually alhaitham) into the Dominant Masculine Man who's the knight in shining armor while kaveh is, for lack of better term, the assigned submissive and breedable one. and the entire thing is so unserious but the author isnt joking at all. and so i was using yuri as like the antithesis of that. Yeah. i AM interested in actual yuri kavetham now though so you have kind of enlightened me here.
anyways i hope my regular kavetham fic recs are good enough </3
a comedy of errors by strawberryblimp:
“My dad’s always in a hurry to head home to see my mom. They’re a cute couple like that. Kind of embarrassing at times, though
” His intern makes a face. “Anyways, I’m sure it must be like that with you and your wife too. Alright, see you tomorrow Scribe Alhaitham! Or
the day after? Next week?”
"...my wife?"
Or, Alhaitham hopes to have an uneventful day of work, followed by a peaceful dinner with his roommate. Of course, nothing goes according to plan.
this one is just haikaveh romcom. it's short and sweet and SO funny it was such a delight to read!!
...and they were roommates by warsena:
Kaveh is looking for his keys. Al Haitham is a brat. And Nahida? Well, Nahida knows her things. In words of General Mahamatra: being roommates always meant somehing more interesting.
this one is also a short delight!! it's from nahida's pov and it's so funny to look at their relationship from the eyes of an outsider
The Romanticism of Coffee-Making by sonotfine:
Alhaitham, Kaveh, the drinks Kaveh made them every morning, and Alhaitham's very deep but totally normal feelings about this domestic privilege.
Love without a name, visible only in similes and metaphors, tangible and all-consuming in the ways they orbited each other. Action for action, thought for thought.
alhaitham pining for around 3k words. so sweet. the yearning is palpable. i really like the characterization for both of them
Briars and Roses 'Round Your Heart by sonotfine:
Two fools, the impasse, and the disease that punishes the unspoken thing between them. Love is as cruel as you choose to make it for yourself. Fortunately, it takes two to love, in this case.
i hope you like the hanahaki disease trope!! kaveh has it in this fic and it's one of my favorite renditions of it ever was SO good. i loved how it developed and how it was concluded. this author is really good at writing kaveh and alhaitham
sunbird by caniculeo:
This is how Kaveh grows up—well-loved and loving, with a pencil in his hand and starlight in his eyes. This is how he grows up, until his father leaves for the desert one day, and never comes back.
kaveh, through the years.
okay this one isn't exactly a kavetham rec, more like a kaveh one. but there is kavetham!! plenty of it!! i just wanted to sneak this one into the list because it's my favorite kaveh character study, like, ever. trust me it's so good
i hope these are to your liking anon! sorry again for the lack of yuri haikaveh. i have failed you
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