#ill probably still read other plays in between the rest of what i have of david copperfield (less than 300 pages)

[thelostconsultant]

I will love you 'til the end

pairing: Mark Webber x Piastri!reader

summary: She's been with Mark for years, they're happy, but life can be cruel sometimes...

note: Based on the poll/idea of @theinsanityclause. Sorry for turning it into something bittersweet.

warnings: terminal illness, age gap

She couldn’t really tell when this thing with Mark had begun. Was it back when she started working for Red Bull? Or was it later, when her little brother joined McLaren? It was hard to tell, but honestly, sometimes she couldn’t even care. They were having fun, enjoying those secret meetings on race weekends, and going off the grid during longer breaks if they had the opportunity. Her family suspected that she had someone, but every time they asked, she rolled her eyes and told them she was chronically single. 

There was a twenty-year age gap, but who counted? As long as this worked between them, they couldn’t care less about this little detail. Why they decided to hide from the public was the fact he was Oscar’s manager. Things would surely become awkward if he found out. Her mom? She would probably accept it. But her brother? Not so much. Neither of them wanted to destroy their respective relationships with him, so it was better to stay under the radar for now. 

“What’s the deal with you and Mark?” Max asked once he plopped down next to her with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

With a sigh, she turned to him, doing her best to give him a disapproving look. “I see what you’re doing, and no, you won’t be free of the social team. We spent an entire week trying to come up with concepts you wouldn’t instantly hate, the least you can do is play nice,” she told him sternly.

But he didn’t seem to be bothered by that, he just waved his hand nonchalantly, then leaned a little closer. “I saw the way you were looking at each other. There must be something.”

“He’s my brother’s manager, we’ve known each other for a long time, that’s all. We get along, just as he gets along with everyone from my family,” she explained with a shrug.

But Max wasn’t convinced, he just rolled his eyes and rested his elbow on the back of the couch as he watched her. “Look, I’m pretty sure he doesn’t look at your family members as if he wanted to devour them on the spot. But when he looks at you? Ooooh, he’s smitten with you.” She hid her face into her hands, letting out a groan as she wondered why the Dutchman had to be so perceptive. “Hey, I’m not telling anyone, I swear.”

She believed him. Sure, Max wasn’t known for being the master of keeping secrets, but as long as no one asked him about her love life, she was safe. And so that’s how he became the only person who knew about the two of them, although they didn’t really talk about it again, but there were teasing looks he shot at her when he saw them talking in the paddock.

On Saturday evening, when she entered her hotel room feeling dead tired, all she wanted was to crawl under the blanket to snuggle up to Mark. They had always gotten key cards to each other’s rooms, so every day they agreed where to meet, and tonight it was her turn to host him for the night. But she was running late, it was way past eleven when she arrived, but he was still up, sitting on the bed as he read something on his phone. The corners of his lips curled into a loving smile when he noticed her, and she didn’t hesitate to kick off her shoes and sit down next to him. 

As she placed a kiss on his shoulder, Mark put his phone on the nightstand, then tipped her head back to finally kiss her properly, smiling at the sound of her soft moan as she moved her hand under his shirt, desperate to feel his warm skin under her fingertips. “Long day?” he asked, deliberately planning to make her talk instead of giving her what she’d been craving since their stolen kiss in the paddock earlier that day. 

It was frustrating, really, because all she wanted was being tired out in bed so she could sleep well, but now it seemed like she wasn't getting that tonight. “I missed you,” she replied eventually when he pulled away to rest his forehead against hers. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” 

She heard him gulp at this, his breath caught in his throat from the confession. This wasn’t the first time she had said that, and he already told her these words too, but lately it felt different, it was almost painful for him to hear it. It was understandable. With the number of secrets they were keeping growing all the time, it was only a matter of time before he retreated into a shell to protect himself.

“You don't have to say anything, don't feel like I was trying to pressure you,” she said quietly. 

But when he looked at her, his hazel eyes taking in every little detail of her face, she understood what this was about, and his next words confirmed her theory. “Every time you say this, it sounds like goodbye. You know how terrified I am of that day,” he told her. 

With a sad smile, she moved a little to bury her face into the crook of his neck. “Mark, that day is still far from today. Let's enjoy the time we have, okay? Don't think about this.”

“I'm just not ready to lose you, sweetheart,” he informed her as he pressed a kiss on her head, arms protectively wrapped around her frame. 

“Have you showered?” she asked him, a playful gleam in her eyes making it clear that she wanted a little more than just showering together. To her luck, he understood it, so he let her go and moved out of the bed in sync with her. But on the way to the bathroom she intercepted him by putting a hand on his stomach, then reached up to pull down his head for a kiss. “I was beginning to worry you didn’t want me anymore,” she noted as a joke. 

Mark’s hand moved from her back to her hips, looking for the hem of her Red Bull shirt to take it off her. A deep growl left his throat when he kissed her again, doing his best to show her just how wrong she was if she assumed he had gotten bored of her. During their years together, sex had never been a problem. In fact, in the beginning that’s what their relationship was based on, emotions only came into the picture after the first half a year or so. 

By the time they arrived in Baku two weeks later, things returned to normal, although this was the weekend when they had to be extra careful since her mother was there as well. But it was hard to stay away, especially after the qualifying results and the news of Mark making sure her brother’s contract couldn’t name him the second driver in the team emerging in the media. She was so proud of him for doing everything he could to support Oscar, and in all honesty, she had dozens of ways in her mind to repay for that. 

Following that fantastic win on Sunday, the Piastri family had dinner together to celebrate before the team took Oscar away, and of course he invited his manager as well, after all he was like family by now. But their mood was set before they even left her hotel, because Mark could see she wasn’t in the best shape at the moment. She was happy, he could tell, but she said she felt nauseous, which wasn’t ideal before a big family dinner. 

This was one of those nights when he had to be extra attentive, making sure she was safe, and he had his doubts about doing this right in front of her family without their secrets being revealed. “Maybe we should cancel,” he noted, his bad feeling making him say it before he could truly think about it. Her brother had just won his second race, this time without team orders casting a shadow on the result, there was no way she would miss this. But he had to try for her sake.

Just as he expected, she shook her head and told him that everything was fine, that she had this under control. She wasn’t convincing at all, but there was nothing he could do apart from being there for her. “You should go first. I’ll probably throw up one last time before heading out,” she told him. 

Mark shook his head as he stepped over to her and cupped her face to make her look at him. “You’re not going alone, don’t even think about it. If anyone asks, I was in your hotel to meet someone from Red Bull, and we decided to go together,” he said before giving her a quick kiss. “Or we could just as well say we arrived together because we are dating,” he suggested with a shrug, earning a shocked look from her. “What? Maybe it’s time we tell them the truth. It’s been years, we can’t hide forever. And you know why we should tell them sooner rather than later.”

“Oscar is celebrating today, he’s happy, let’s not ruin this,” she said. 

Rolling his eyes, he shook his head a little. “I’m not saying we should make an announcement. I would pick a… more subtle way to let them know. Just dropping hints. Maybe they wouldn’t even notice.”

She leaned forward to bury her face into his chest, arms wrapped around him as she listened to his heartbeat. Maybe he was right. Maybe it truly was time to slowly let this secret come to light. “Okay, you won. Let’s do this your way,” you said with a sigh. 

The moment they reached the entrance, Mark reached out to take her hand, lacing their fingers tightly as he navigated through the chatting crowd outside. By the time they were taken to the reserved table, Oscar and their mother were already there, deep in a conversation until they noticed them arriving. Nicole stood up and hugged her daughter as if they hadn’t met a few hours ago, but it was a nice feeling. 

But her brother remained seated, his narrowed eyes watching his manager with an inquiring look in them. There was no comment from the older man, so he turned his attention to his sister, who decided to simply ignore him. They started to talk about the race, and it seemed like they would get away with that entrance and the nonchalant touches, but as they were waiting for their desserts, Oscar put up his hand to stop the discussion. 

“Okay, what is going on? You arrive together, hand in hand if I’m not mistaken, you are clearly on the same wavelength as you finish each other’s sentences, and don’t even get me started on those meaningful looks you exchange,” he listed. 

Their mother’s lips curled into a small smile, causing Oscar to give her a questioning look, as if he was asking why she wasn’t shocked to hear that. “You’re such a smart young man, but you can be so slow sometimes,” was all she said with a laugh before turning to her daughter. “How long has it been going on? I know you were together at the beginning of this year, but… I have a feeling there’s a longer history.”

Mark looked over at his girlfriend, deciding that it would be the best if she handled this conversation for now. It was her family, after all, he didn’t want to get involved unless it became necessary. She seemed taken aback, but after gulping loudly, she nodded. “Yeah, well, it’s been about three years now. Maybe a little more,” she confirmed. “How long have you known? And how did you find out?”

“I’m not stalking you, I promise, but you disappeared in January so I checked your location. Remember? You shared it with me. And I saw you were in Mark’s house for weeks,” she explained. 

“I can’t believe it,” Oscar muttered under his breath as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Are you not mad at me?” she asked her mother, once again deciding to ignore her brother. 

Nicole shook her head. “No, why would I be? You’re my daughter, if you’re happy, that’s enough for me.”

“Well, not like you cared to ask, but I am not happy,” Oscar interjected with a disapproving look. “Have you considered what you got yourself into? How much older he is? Don’t get me wrong, Mark, you’re in great shape, but what will happen ten or twenty years from now?”

Her eyes softened as she reached out to take the younger Piastri’s hand. “Look, Osc, I know it’s probably a lot to take in, but I love him.” Oscar pulled his hand away and leaned back in the chair, his eyes fixed on her the whole time. “And we don’t need to worry about what will happen decades from now. Hell, there’s no need for a five-year plan either.”

Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed her mother’s surprised look that was soon followed by a logical question. “Are you planning to break up?” she wondered out loud.

There was a heavy sigh before she looked over at Mark, trying to gain some strength from him. When he reached out to take her hand, she took a deep breath and began to explain the situation. “No, not exactly. I’m just… lucky if I’ll have another year. I’m already outliving my doctor’s original prognosis.”

Her mother and brother exchanged confused looks, asking her what doctor she was talking about. So she began to tell them everything she’s been hiding for almost a year, the diagnosis of glioblastoma on the weekend of the Las Vegas grand prix and the treatment that began with the new year, all the critical pieces of information they needed to understand the situation. It hit them hard, she could tell, but since they were in public, they both decided to do their best to keep themselves together. 

“I didn’t want to ruin your day, I’m so sorry,” she told Oscar in the end. 

He only shook his head, his eyes shining from the tears he could barely hold back at this point. “Just promise to come to the party tonight. I–I want to spend time with my sister while I can, okay?” After she nodded, his eyes turned to Mark. “So… she said her treatment started early this year, and mum said she spent weeks with you in January. Did these happen at the same time?”

“I was by her side the whole time, don’t worry. It was tough, but we got through it,” he assured his protégé. 

“But you came to that thing with me, and it took almost a week. Did you leave her alone?”

Shaking his head, Mark let out a quiet laugh. “Well, no, Max was there to entertain her.”

Oscar looked at his sister. “So you told Max, but not us?” he asked incredulously. 

She tilted her head to the side as she gave him a look of disappointment. “Trust me, that wasn’t entirely my decision. He was the one who took me to the hospital in Vegas. He didn’t leave my side until we found out what was wrong with me.”

“I’m your brother, you should have asked me to take you.”

Nicole put a hand on his shoulder, probably understanding that it hadn’t been the kind of situation when she could be picky about the driver. “Let’s just be happy she had people looking out for her. And now she has us too,” she said, flashing a warm smile at her daughter. 

At the party, Oscar decided not to leave his sister’s side. He even took the time to go out and get some fresh air with her, using this opportunity to talk. He wanted to know why she made her decisions, why she decided to hide her relationship with Mark, why she came to the conclusion that not telling them about her illness was a good idea. This was the first time in a while when they had such an honest conversation. She told him that she didn’t want his focus to shift from racing, and that she believed their mother knowing would have resulted in him finding out as well. In return he admitted that she still wasn’t fully okay with her dating his manager, but he promised to try and be understanding. 

They agreed to have a dedicated night on every race weekend when they would just hang out in his room, playing stupid games, eating a lot, and watching TV until they passed out. Oscar would have never admitted it, but ever since he was old enough to remember, he had been clinging to his sister, always begging her to read one more article from his favorite magazine, or to play one more hour with him, or to come see him race to bring him good luck. And she was always there, always supporting and protecting him, even when some stupid kids used his kindness against him. 

Long hours later, around three in the morning, she stumbled into Mark’s hotel room, not drunk, just tired, and she was surprised to see him awake at this time. When she sat on the edge of the bed next to him, he was quick to wrap his arms around her, pressing a kiss on her lips as a welcome. After everything that had happened earlier in the day, she couldn’t fight back her tears anymore, so she buried her face into his shoulder and started sobbing. He tried to soothe her, but it took quite a long time for her to calm down. 

When she finally stopped crying, he lied down and pulled her down with him, his arms still safely around her as she moved closer to him. “It’s okay, baby,” he whispered to her, happy to hear her breathing slow down, giving away that she finally fell asleep. It didn’t take him long to drift off to sleep himself, moving on to a dream where everything was okay, where he didn’t have to face the harsh reality of losing her one day. 

[vivalabunbun]

There Are Nothing But Flowers

Summary: You want to play house and he’s just hungry.

Word Count: 11.3K

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Smut(r18+), Modern AU, Vampire AU, TW: Death, Terminally ill! Reader,  TW: Medical gaslighting, description of medial treatments & corruption, TW: Blood & Blood drinking, vague mentions of violence, Contract Marriage AU, slight! enemies to lovers, Slow burn, NSFW, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Unrequited love?, Vampire! Alhaitham, Dom! Alhaitham, Human! Reader, biting, slight orgasm denial, overstimulation, creampie, slight corruption kink, temperature play? you fall hard, slow fic, tragedy. 

Authors note: This is the other side to this work, your side of the story, please read the tags carefully. I wanted to explore the other side of the garden wall and themes of mortality, it’s heavy, please read when you feel well enough to see what lies beyond. Enjoy. 

Side note: the aftermath

“Honey, I’ll be off to work now.” A dapper man straightens out his tie, a briefcase in his other hand.

“Dear…aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Are my pants unzipped again?” His eyes darted down as disembodied laughter rang out in the unseen background.

“No, you forgot this.” The pattering of house slippers stops as the woman cradles her lover's face between her hands.

The kiss from her immaculately painted lips melted the wrinkles from his forehead as the taller man leaned into his deserved affection.

“Have a good day at work, my love.”

—

A quiet house on the hill, white picket fences, and a lovely dog wagging its tail in the green yard. Eyes watching the vibrancies dance along a small screen, blocking out the gray in the peripheral.

Everything about this drama was cliché, the plot slow and predictable, just mediocre. So perfectly mundane that your hand itches to grab it through the screen like a thief. But are you really a thief if you steal back what was taken from you? 

Before your mind can explore that comparison further a knock drags you out of the immersion, thumb quickly taps the screen to halt the fantasy. 

“Good evening, ma’am.” The doctor in his white uniform enters. 

“Hello, doctor.” 

Two polite smiles greet each other, neither truly reaching the eyes. Your hands neatly folded together, his fiddling with the chipboard which held your verdict.

Observing how his teeth bit the inside of his cheek as his eyes scanned the charts. Your hands remain still even as he takes a deep breath.

“Unfortunately it has spread beyond our initial expectations. The results show that it’s progressed to a late stage despite our best efforts. Right now, you only have a few treatment options left.”

What happened to ‘just that time of the month’, ‘just get fresh air’, and ‘just give it some time’? 

“There’s a series of procedures to cut out the spread, however, it might be very difficult as the infection is deep and intertwined with healthy tissue. The success rate is low, and the probability of it coming back is very high.” 

What happened to ‘you’re young and healthy, it’s nothing’? 

“The next possible treatment would be Kalpalata Lotuses. It has properties to slow inflections and has pain-reducing effects, however, it’s slow and inefficient in the long run. If you choose the first option you’ll have to pair it with treatment two. The first could give you fourteen years, the second on its own might only give you half of that.” 

What were these past months spent behind a glass prison all for? 

The constant hum of the machines filled in the dead space, the beeps on the monitors counting the passing seconds as two lips remained closed.

From the hallways, the chattering of nurses provided proof that the world in fact has not stopped spinning. Something dreadful filled the room, a silent suffocation. He was the first to fold. 

“Please take your time to think this decision over, I’ll leave you to get some rest. Have a good night ma’am.” There was a flutter of pages folding back down to the clipboard.

The doctors were letting you pick your poison, how thoughtful of them. 

Just as before two polite smiles that didn’t reach the eyes acknowledged each other, with a nod the doctor took his leave, eager to end his shift, to escape the unseen hands.

Not a word slipped past your lips during the one-sided conversation, tongue unable to string together a single sentence. What is there left to say? 

As you lay back down your fingers brushed against the screen, restarting the episode as the laughter of an audience resonated along the sterile walls. 

Maybe if the doctors, with their acclaimed degrees and status, were just a little more attentive.

Maybe if they didn’t simply see you as a lady with nonsensical symptoms.

Maybe if they didn’t view you as a statistic.

Then you wouldn’t have collapsed that day at work.

Then you wouldn’t have spent grueling months undergoing diagnosis after diagnosis.

Then maybe just maybe the Pythagorean Cup wouldn’t have surpassed its threshold, emptying out all hope. 

The dialogue continues but it’s all but a fuzzy ringing now. Eyes watching the passing car lights dance upon the gray ceiling from the late evening traffic of workers, with their white or blue collars, eager to return home. 

You longed for that, to return there. Hands itching to rip out the tube from your arm and the sensor with its pitched beeps. 

Fourteen years, fourteen years of what? Bed sores from thin sheets? Chest pains at too deep of breaths? Stitches recovering only to be ripped open again? 

Sounds more like a punishment delivered deep underground in a place whose temperature rivals the surface of a burning star. 

Was it because you cursed at the man who cut you in line once?

Was it because you stole your college roommate’s sweater?

Was it because you never brought offerings to the Sanctuary of Surasthana? 

Were you such a despicable person in a past life that the sins carried over? 

Heavy lids closed to soothe the burning in your eyes, letting the warm trails run down your cheek. Reining your senses back from its escapade with a slow breath. 

No. It’s none of that. It’s just life, capricious life. Capricious life that took your parents and now is hunting you. 

There’s no karmic debt to pay off, there’s no faceless god to pray to. Setting one foot onto the path of true adulthood, only for your eyes to spot the end just over the horizon. What can you do? 

The jumbled laughs and fuzzy speeches coming from your phone’s speaker were becoming too much. Thus you rolled your heavy body over to silence it. Once again the world outside the window was in view, the soft orange glow from the office right across leaking into the suffocating grey. 

Oh, he’s at his desk tonight. 

Wet eyes watch as the ashen-haired being shifts through sheets of crisp paper and his pen moving constantly. It’s strange, a bit mocking even, that an immortal creature could be so mundane.

Maybe that’s why their office is just across the Bimarstan, to taunt those who longed for that reality, beckoning them to sign their names on a dotted line. 

Candace’s words were right, it’s a predatory scheme. 

Perhaps hold habits die hard, after all, vampires are creatures of the night that once terrorized generations of humans. 

Shielded by the panes of glass separating the two buildings, it was safe to continue this strange routine. Is staring at a stranger considered stalking if they’re the only view the windows offer? 

He got up from his desk, moving towards the filing cabinet just off to the side, allowing for his profile to come into view. 

He’s handsome, features outshining any of the male leads you’ve seen in movies. 

Teal eyes, ashen hair like moonlight, tall and broad stature. It’s no mystery why so many heroes and heroines fell into depravity, lured in by their beauty, entranced minds blindly offering up their everything. 

You weren’t special enough to be immune. Hence, why you continued to watch the nameless vampire who doesn’t know yours. Resting your cheek upon the stiff pillow, the feeling in your arm decreases like the cars in the streets. The pitched beeps keeping time.

He stood back up from his desk again, one hand grabbing the coat thrown over the back of a chair. Placing pens back into a cup and paper back into folders, he walks to the door before his hand shuts off the warm orange light. 

It looks like tonight’s episode has ended on time like always. Rolling back to stare at the drab ceiling, allowing blood to rush back into your arm as the sensation of pins and needles crawled up. It wasn’t bothersome, as tonight's viewing evoked entertaining thoughts. 

What a punctual vampire, where does he go after midnight? To a tavern or home?

Is someone waiting at the door for him there? Welcoming him back with soft lips?

Is that why he’s so eager to leave?

Your lids were growing heavy, the view of a blank ceiling wanes your alertness. The sweet curiosities coax you to continue in the realm of dreams, you listened to their call. 

Could you be that someone? 

“So, how ya feeling?” Dehya places down a container filled with baklava. 

“Mmm…”

The metal legs of the visitor's chair scraped across the floor as she awaits your response.

“Would you still be my friend if I was a rock, Dehya?”

“Ahh, not this again.” She rolls her eyes. 

Sitting upright in the hospital bed, hands folded together you awaited her response.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll still love you to bits even if you’re a pebble or something,” Dehya sighs, but there’s an upward tilt in her lips. 

“I’ll love you too.” You helped yourself to some baklava. 

A reward for your diversion of a miserable topic with sweet nonsense and special words. After all, she’s got a difficult job during the night, no need to make the day as difficult. Your mother used to say to save such words only for a special someone, but that’s the point of a word if it's never used?

–

“So, a few weeks ago I took this assignment that–” Dehya’s sapphire eyes moved behind you, gazing out the window where the sunlight poured in. 

“Ugh, his office is right across from you.” 

“Who?”

“Alhaitham, he’s a vampire I had the misfortune of meeting during a job, not that he’d remember.” 

So the vampire’s name was Alhaitham, it felt nice on your tongue. 

“Oh? How come?” 

“He just always talks in long, convoluted sentences, and in that snooty tone, snooty even for a vampire.” Dehya takes a piece of baklava to ease her from that bitter work experience. 

“My, I wonder how his spouse bares with him.” The bait was set out. 

“Pfft?! Ahaha! Who? It’s nearly impossible to spend five minutes by his side.” 

“Mm, really?” 

“No ring on his finger. From what I’ve gathered even other vampires can’t stand that personality of his.” Dehya takes another piece. 

Success. 

–

The container of baklava now only holds a few crumbs and traces of sweet syrup. The sun was beginning to kiss the horizon, a sign that your friend’s visit was coming to an end.

After all, she’s got a duty to fulfill as a hunter that maintains the balance between mortals and creatures who dare cross the boundaries of the law. 

Right as your hand returns from the air after bidding goodbye, it lands on the cold screen of your phone. In an age of growing cities and ever-advancing technologies, you’re grateful for these developments. As it makes your next actions possible.

It’s hard to miss a name when the letters are written in bold, imposing signs along the building just beyond the panes of glass.

As per Sumeru regulation, all employed vampires must be listed on company sites, an attempt at keeping track of such creatures. 

Scrolling page after page until eyes landed upon familiar ash-mint trusses.

Name: Alhaitham

Species: Vampire (Born)

Title: Secretary

Years At Company: 168

Fingers clicked on the next tab. 

“To apply for a blood contract, one must bring personal identification, and fill out an application during an appointed consultation with the vampire present. Once the boundaries of the contract are established, it will go through the approvement process.” 

Eyes moved to the next tab.

“Seven years is the maximum time for a singular contract, but it can be renewed every seven years. Both parties must fulfill the terms written on the contract. The value of a contract is determined by the amount of blood offered on a regular basis or in a future deposit. Applying for a contract that gives the maximum, 10 pints, in a full sum amount must pass a psychological evaluation.” 

--

Fourteen years is an unjustly cruel fate, but seven… Seven might be tolerable. After all, it’s often called the number of luck, you wonder if vampires were aware of this, maybe that’s why they chose that arbitrary number. 

Waiting as the sun disappears behind the horizon with your head resting against the stiff pillow. The warm orange glow from the office across from you signaled the start of tonight’s episode. Observing every stop and start of his pen as two voices wrangled your thoughts. 

There was a guest featured in this episode it seems, another vampire enters the office with a fresh stack of paper. He seemed eager for Alhaitham’s approval, even going as far as offering a pen out from his own pocket. However, this plan was foiled by a simple rise of hand by the male lead. 

The universal signal for rejection. 

The guest seemed dumbstruck. The only explanation the silver-haired lead gave was a simple gesture toward a clock. The guest’s hands were moving frantically as if to convey the urgency of the papers piled up.

However, Alhaitham simply takes his coat from the back of his chair and shuts off the warm light. 

In the murky darkness, your eyes could just barely make out the silhouettes of two figures traversing out of the office. Oh, tonight’s episode has ended just on time as always. 

How shamelessly punctual that vampire is. Some might even call it selfish. But what’s wrong with being selfish? After all, all true passions in life in the end are thinly veiled excuses for selfishness. 

If life wanted to be shamelessly selfish, then why can’t you? With that, it seems one voice has finally emerged victorious. 

Your fingers crept towards a button just off to the side, a quiet ding resounding as the bright glow flashed. Breaths counting the minutes before a set of footsteps stopped in front of your room, followed by a polite knock. 

“Is there something you need, ma’am?”

“Yes, I want to discharge myself tomorrow, as soon as possible.”

Your eyes traced over the too-long string of zeros printed on the check, hands wanting to crumble up the slip of paper. So this is how much your life was worth. Standing outside the Bimarstan, you peered up at the tall building that once caged you. 

Were the administrators looking down at you at this moment from their high offices? Were they watching your reaction to their little bribe? Pushing you to keep your lips shut, so that their mistakes and misjudgments won’t reach the ears of the press? 

It doesn’t really matter now, but it was thoughtful of them to hand out an extra bargaining chip. Refocusing your attention back on the building just across the street, there were still some preparations to finish.  

–

The time was now 6:30 pm, the sun has ran off into the night allowing for the stars to guide you back to the building just beyond the glass.

A simple bag held your offerings: proof of identity, property documents, doctor's notes, and bank statements handsomely topped off with the help of a certain check. 

There’s a jitter in your legs as you stood just beyond the threshold of the sliding doors. Is it really the right thing to do?

What would be the look on the faces of your dearest friends?

Would the handsome stranger show last night’s gesture to you too? 

Your lungs steadily filled with the crisp air, pushing their capacity almost to the point of pain, you exhaled. 

The right thing to do is to be selfish, they’ll understand sooner or later, and the worst thing he could do is say no.

Even if you leave with your cheeks burning in shame, the burn would only last seven years. Your feet stepped past the threshold and the glass doors parted. 

“Excuse me, is Mr. Alhaitham here tonight?” You already knew the answer. 

“Hm? Yes… Are you looking for him, youngster?” The receptionist quirks a brow at you. 

“Yes, I want to schedule a contract consultation with him right now.” You take note of her name tag. 

“Hold just one moment, the secretary-”

“Is his schedule occupied right now?” 

“No, but if you’d let me finish, Alhaitham isn’t one of the vampires that usually accept such-”  

“Please, Madam Faruzan?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the polite address of her name or the plead in your gaze that was the cause of the decisive furrow between her brows. However, her shoulders slumped forward as a huff leaves her lips. 

“Alright, please follow me.” She gestures a hand, welcoming you to the elevator just behind the desk. 

“Thank you.” 

Within the confines of the fancy cart, the blue-haired vampire asks over and over if you had all the correct documents, listing each one out. Your skilled ears tuned every word out, nodding along to feign attention. Finally, the saving grace of a pleasant ding signals the chart’s stop at its destination. 

When the polished doors slid apart, you charged out into the floor, your legs guiding you to the office with the clearest view of your old glass cage.

From behind you, Faruzan called out your name as she mutter something about how humans these days are always in just a rush. Your ears could care less about her words. 

Gallivanting through the threshold of his open office door, you finally came face to face with the male lead you’ve been fawning over.

As his eyes meet yours, you observed the brilliant shades of teal and ocher in them. Really, the view from across two panes of glass couldn’t detail his true beauty. 

“Hello, Mr. Alhaitham.” You beamed your best smile. 

The pattering of steps behind you comes to a stop as Faruzan finally catches up exasperated at your impatience. 

“Secretary Alhaitham, this young lady here would like to make a blood contract with you.” 

The weight of his teal gaze shifted back on your frame after your late introduction, assessing the situation as you awaited his response. 

“I see.” He nods while walking out from behind the desk, pulling out the chair in front of it.

The receptionist took her cue to leave the room, shutting the office door on the way out. The room now balanced with just one mortal and one immortal. 

You paid no mind to his words as you settled down into the seat, after all, you’ve already read through them. Instead, your ears absorbed his timbre tone and smooth cadence. What a dangerously beautiful voice, it’s beckoning you towards the murkier waters. 

“What are your demands?” 

“Marry me.” Your lips blurted the truth out before shame got the chance to stop them.

Remember, the worst he could do is to show you the door. 

–

In truth, you were preparing yourself to see the open palm of his large hand as he rejects your ridiculous proposal. Yet, here you were, still in his office. Sitting just across the expanse of his dark oak desk, all your documents scattered across it as Alhaitham’s pen guided across a form. 

“What are the living arrangements you expect?” He doesn’t glance up from the paper.

“Mm… Would moving into your home be possible? Married couples usually live together.” 

“That’s possible. Expectations for domestic and financial responsibilities?” 

“I can’t work, so I don’t mind taking care of the house. But, I do want us to share some chores, so I don’t go insane.” You wonder if the ends of his lips would curl at your humor.

“I see.” The pen continues to record the sentences down on the form. 

You kept the smile up despite the sting of failure. 

“So… How much blood do vampires need?” Best to move on. 

“It depends. Humans can give at most two pints of blood safely, and only once every two months.”

“You only need to feed once every two months?”

“Yes, would that be an issue?” 

Lips parted, your next sentence dangles just off the tip of it. However, it seems that Alhaitham had already read them. 

“Mortal medicine has no effect on our bodies.” 

“Are there any restrictions on affection? Any personal boundaries?” You pivoted to another question. 

The pen stops for a moment, his teal eyes shifting off the paper for just a brief moment as he evaluates numerous scenarios, or at least that’s what you think he’s doing. 

“Deep kisses are not permitted.” Alhaitham’s teal eyes pierced straight into yours as he delivered the verdict. 

It’s silly really, you really don’t have the right to demand an ounce of touch from him, you aren’t entitled to his personal space. However, something still made your stomach sink. 

“Oh?... May I ask why?”

“There runs the risk of blood contamination through exchanging saliva, our incisors are quite sharp.” 

Oh. You read between the lines he penned down. The most sacred law of this age, a time where mortals and immortals walk alongside each other: vampires cannot turn humans into immortal beings. 

He’s being precautious, after all the price he’d have to pay for a drop of his blood tainting yours is far greater than anything you could offer. Yet, the greed deep within you wouldn’t stay silent. 

“Are closed-mouth kisses okay then?” Haggling the clauses like you were at a market stall. 

Once more the pen stops as he contemplates your bargain. 

“Yes.” 

“The contract has been submitted to the legal department. If you pass the evaluation, it’ll be approved by the end of this month. I look forward to your cooperation.” 

And with his disembodied voice over the phone, he accepts your proposal. Alhaitham agreed to play the role of your husband. The anticipation that weighed down your shoulders for the past three days was finally lifted. Hopefully he can’t hear your idiotic grin through the phone. 

Success. 

—

“No, I won’t accept this.” Dehya slams her glass down, unfazed by the glances from surrounding tables. 

“Please reconsider your decision.” Candace gives you her disapproving gaze. 

Shifting your eyes over to Nilou, poor sweet Nilou whose wide eyes could only convey the word ‘why?’. The interrogation after showing the ring to your dearest friends was much more intense than the evaluation you underwent to get the marriage approved. 

However, it’s to be expected. After all, two of the people at this table were hunters. If anyone knew the true brutality vampires hold, it would be them. 

Tapping on the screen of your phone to reveal the time. Of course, you won’t arrive at this negotiation unprepared. Glancing back up to face the counsel of your friends, a honeyed smile on your lips. 

“Would you guys have the time to accompany me to a doctor’s visit?” 

–

That took longer than you expected, walking out of the sliding glass doors which reflect the everchanging hues of dusk. The cause for this extended session at the Bimarstan was the numerous times your dearest guests made the poor doctor repeat your verdict. 

Each time hoping that something different would leave his mouth. Peering up at the building across the street, you wonder if he’s getting ready to leave the house soon. 

The closing of the automatic doors draws your attention back to the three figures who followed behind you. Pensiveness eyes downcasted as their minds continued to digest the events that have unfolded. 

“Pfft! What’s with this atmosphere?” A giggle leaves your breath, it’s unbefitting for a gathering of friends. 

“I won’t force you to attend my wedding if you don’t want to. However, I’ll be quite the lonely bride without any bridesmaids.” There was your honeyed smile again.

They could say no, they could beg you to drink the first poison offered by the doctors, they could ask you to give them more time, to give yourself more time. But they won’t. You knew they won’t.

Unlike you, they’re selfless and heedful, all your fortune in life must’ve been spent on finding such dear friends. 

You’re the only selfish one. 

There are many things you like about Alhaitham. Even excluding his excellent physique, his starlight hair and beryl-citrine eyes, he’s got the perfect traits of a life partner. He satisfies all the aspects of the ideal husband. Never leaving you wanting or hungry. You could list all his positive traits.

–

One, by simply holding out a hand, he’ll place his black card onto your awaiting palm. Not even batting an eye when you returned home from a ‘simple grocery run’ in a new set of clothes with the tags still on.

When you mentioned to him that a TV would look nice on the empty living room wall, he ordered one on the same day. How dreamy. 

–

Two, he’s quite the interesting specimen. 

“So, if someone were to douse you with blessed water, your flesh won’t burn?” 

“No.” 

Alhaitham humors your ridiculous inquires about his species, enlightening you to just how inaccurate those films and shows you loved were.

He even humors the trivial anniversaries, celebrations, and dates inspired by any recent dramas you fancied. The wedding was proof enough: he tolerates your fantasies. 

–

Three, what you liked most of all: he’s too smart to ask redundant questions. After all, he’s read the files, he’s seen the diagnosis.

It’s not some secret that shall not be told, not a monster that shall not be named. Just like how there’s no point in telling someone the sky is blue, there’s nothing left to say about the doctor's notes.

No surprises, no sudden alarms, just the artificially sweet lull of domestic life. 

–

Performing the part of a doting husband with such spectacular accuracy, you could almost mistake it as sincere.

You applaud the amount of skill it takes. However, costars are meant to bring out the best in each other, pushing one another past their thresholds for an excellent show. 

The slightest blunders of lines and facial muscles couldn’t fool your expert gaze. It does take one to know one. 

–

“Haitham,” you called out. 

Setting down the two servings of biryani on the dinner table, the rich spices perfumed through the halls. It only takes one call for Alhaitham to come out from his library, halting for a second at the threshold of the kitchen before swiftly composing himself once more. 

“Dinner is ready, it’s biryani tonight.” You gestured for him to take a seat, a smile ever present on your lips. 

“Thank you.” He takes his place. 

You take your place just across the table, wasting no time enjoying the fruit of labor after standing over a stove. Every grain of rice perfectly coated in the right amount of seasoning, just the correct level of richness. The recipe you followed online deserved its high rating, it’s delicious. 

Traveling across the length of the dinner table, your leaden gaze landed upon the figure who has yet to touch his meal. That must’ve been enough for him to take his cue, bringing a spoon full into his mouth, chewing then shallowing. 

“How is it?” Resting an elbow on the polished oak.

“You’ve worked hard on this dish, thank you.” He takes another bite. 

Letting out a pleased hum, you released him from this scene. Turning your attention back to your own meal. 

You’ll clear your plate in about twenty more bites, and he’ll continue to push the contents of his plate around once in a while faking a bite. Then after you’re finished, he’ll swiftly offer to clear the table and dishes, telling you to retire to the bedroom for rest. 

A clever diversion from his ultimate goal of dumping your cooking into the trash. You’ve gone through this script for two years now. 

It’s practically impossible to completely suppress one’s true intentions and instincts. Alhaitham can’t fully prevent the corners of his lips from down-turning every time you address him with that botched nickname. 

He can’t entirely stop the sigh escaping his lips whenever you call for him to help with menial tasks, unbefitting for such a noble creature. 

He can’t suppress the repulsive scrunch of his nose every time your cooking assaults his palate, the same reaction witnessed during the bi-monthly feeding sessions.

The same disgust he has of your blood, you thought mortal medicines has no effect on such beings, an oversight on his part. 

He’s not as much of a mastermind as he might think, after all, he’s the one who allowed a piece of paper to be dangled over his head. Placing the power of clauses into the palm of your awaiting hand. 

You tell him ‘jump’, and he’ll ask how high with disdain thinly veiled behind brilliant teal.

Humans are defined by their curiosity and greed, mortal hands always playing chicken with a boundary, testing how far they could go. You’re not special enough to be different.

Perhaps the only time he gets the advantage is when you bare your neck for him. Fangs hastily piercing skin, hands a bit too harsh around the neck. He wants it to hurt, you know. 

Too bad, months spent at the hospital trained your tolerance to such sensations. 

If life wants to entangle its fingers into your hair and cruelly tow you to and fro, why can’t you enjoy that same feeling? You’ll just grasp at any wisp of control, you’re a simple human after all. You’d even grasp onto death to stable yourself.

Mortal self-interest versus immortal apathy, what a disastrous harmony. 

Ah, you slept a bit too long. Extended nap causing you to miss a scheduled cup of tea. Tapping a finger along the cool marble countertop you watched the kettle boil.

Frame resting against the counter, each tap against the marble was a futile attempt at distraction. Kalpalata Lotus’ effects can only last four hours, what a shame. 

The steady rhythm of taps interrupted now and then by a pulse of pain as the leaves steeped. Starting deep within your core then crawling it’s up to your lungs like a shadow overtaking a frail flower. 

This must be your warranted punishment for a transgression committed over the weekend. Dragging a creature of the night into the bright, unwelcoming sun all for a silly farmer’s market. Alhaitham’s slumped figure and worn tone were the cue. 

You thought vampires weren’t like how the drama portrayed them, but perhaps there’s some truth, an oversight on your part.

You played chicken with that boundary and got burned, how will you soothe the wounds of guilt now? 

Foregoing honey this time, you hastily swallowed the entire contents of the cup. No matter how fast you push the tea down your throat, no matter how many spoonfuls of honey you put into it: it’s unpalatable. 

The herbal tang dried the inside of your mouth, yet the bitterness made your salivary glands go into overdrive. This is what purgatory is like, huh? 

The chime of your ringtone snapped you back to reality. Glancing over at the screen: Candace. A call so late, she’s at work now, isn’t she?

Swiftly pushing down the bitterness that lingered, clearing your throat before accepting the call. 

“Hello?”

“Good evening, how are you feeling, any discomfort?” 

“Pfft! The diligent Candace gets on her phone during work just to check up on me? I’m swooned.” Your bell-like laughter made the pain worse as it rang through the empty house. 

From the other side, you could pick up the faint giggle, you envision her fighting back a smile. 

“Yes, yes. But more importantly, where are you now?” 

“Home, why? Did you want to visit? I got some baklava.” 

“Good, stay there.” There’s an instant switch to the mood. 

“Mm?” You hummed, passively acknowledging the tension. 

“Please stay inside. There’s a rouge vampire at large, hunters are scattered all throughout the city.” 

Leaving you with a cliffhanger, she knew you’d want a taste of the details. You’ll bite. 

“Oh? That serious, what did they do?” 

“He turned his lover.” 

Goosebumps ran up your neck in the perfectly tempered room. That vampire crossed the forbidden line in the sand, straight into the ocean of inevitable demise. 

The most sacred rule results in the most miserable end. Once caught, his chest will be pierced with silver, heart torn from his body. She doesn’t need to detail those, you already knew. 

“Oh?” 

“His lover has been located, they’re receiving treatment, unsure of the status. However, you should tell your husband to be careful.” 

“I should be saying that to you. Stay safe out there, he’s probably on his way back anyways.” Your eyes glanced at the clock, 11: 59 pm. 

“Alright, I will. You should really rest, it’s so late.” 

“Mm? Says you, Candace. Tell Dehya I said to stay out of trouble.” 

She hums in response. Right after you chimed your farewell and right before she disconnected the call, you slipped in one more line. 

“Please stay safe.” Addressed to no one person in particular. 

–

The hands on the clock now read 3: 21 am, a fresh cup of tea now rested in between your hands. Eye reflecting back at you, still no message, not a single call. His voicemail now ingrained into your ears. 

In an age where humans and vampires now live side by side, it’d be naive to believe that such arrangements are free from prejudice. After all, centuries of fear and hatred don’t just vanish into the air like the vapors of hot tea.

If a vampire is slain during a hunt, a creature unrelated to the true prey, oh well. 

It was for the greater good, it was to maintain the peace, to ensure humanity’s safety. You’re not in the mood to debate such flimsy excuses. 

–

It’s now 4: 34 am, the blushing hues of dawn were just about to creep through the curtains by the front door. Your legs begged for rest, your shoulders heavy, but you refused to leave your post. 

Finally, the clink of keys slotting into place sang through the entranceway. The heavy oak door opens, you don’t need to study his expression, he’s disappointed to see you. 

“Where’ve you been?” No chirp in your command. 

“I went drinking with coworkers.”

You know, you could smell it on him. 

“Why didn’t you call beforehand?”

Alhaitham doesn’t bother to suppress his deep exhale, nor the downward tug at his lips. Disdain meets disappointment, eyes and frowns locked into a staredown as the hands of a clock kept time.

In the peripheral you spot warm orange chasing away the pink, clearing the way for the most brilliant star. Oh, it looks like your wound wasn’t soothed enough. You closed your eyes. 

What went wrong with the script? 

You. 

It’s not selfishness, it’s plain immaturity. Immaturity breeds cruelty. The same immature cruelty of a curious child who ripped off the hypnotically beautiful wings of a butterfly. 

Perhaps the corruption of your tissues has made its way into your personality, an unforeseen consequence of that herbal tea. Or maybe your transgressions were the influence of a green-eyed monster. Immortality gives him an overabundance of what you’re deprived of. 

But it’s not his fault, it’s not an unseen monster’s fault, it’s your immaturity that’s ruining this performance. 

This just won’t do. With the script going awry long ago, there’s no use in trying to follow it, the two of two should conserve your energy.

It’s best to rewrite it again, to say lines that’ll move the scene along in the right direction, to save this domestic drama. You’ll be the first to fold. 

“My life’s too short for misunderstandings and messy communication,” you huffed. 

Lids opening back up to catch his gaze again, restrained and artificially blank as always. Still, he’s got beautiful eyes. 

“I’m your wife, and you’re my husband.” You stated the obvious.

Alhaitham knows that, so his lips remain still.

“So when my husband, who usually arrives home at half past midnight on the dot, didn’t arrive home until dawn without a single text or call, I got worried.” 

Another deep exhale from him. 

“You don’t need to report every movement to me, I don’t want that either. But if you plan on staying out please give me a simple text, so I don’t have to spend hours worrying about why my husband isn’t answering my calls.” 

The discoloration under your eyes, the slump of your heavy shoulders, and the unsteadiness of your knees. He’s observing them all, isn’t he? A pro-actor accesses the situation before deciding how to respond to an ad-lib. 

“I understand, I’ll do that from now on,” he answers. 

What a typical response for him, but maybe not so much for a husband. 

“You’re supposed to apologize, ya know: ‘I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife’,” you advised. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll do better next time, my wife,” he parroted. 

You’ll suppress your giggles for now, this successful pivot of a dreadful scene caused a grin to break out on your face. One that reaches your eyes. 

Arms outstretched you wrapped them around his neck as your lips warmed up his cool cheek, tying the ending together with repetition that’s now become a habit. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” 

“Closed… for construction?...” Your eyes trailed across the bolded letters. 

The grand garden was blocked off by iron gates and mossy stonewalls, path dimly lit by dull streetlamps. 

It’s your third anniversary, to celebrate a new chapter, a reworked script, you planned this special itinerary. The Pardis Dhyai was the grandest garden in all of Sumeru, and they offered night tours. It was perfect, but it seems that you miscalculated.

“It’s negligence on their part for not having this notification on their website.” Alhaitham’s baritone voice draws you from your thoughts. 

You must look so idiotic right now. Getting all dressed up and even coaxing him from the comfort of the house just to bring Alhaitham to a wall. You didn’t fight the slump of your shoulders, the fires of shame licked at your cheeks. You feel the weight of his teal eyes. 

“The street market is open tonight, would you like to go there instead?” 

What a good husband, stepping in to remedy his wife’s mistakes. Finally gathering the courage to connect with his gaze, you notice the faint twitch of his nose as a breeze passed by. 

“Do you not like flowers?” 

“Their fragrance is overbearing.” 

Recalling the times you’ve shoved an excessive bouquet in front of his face during previous anniversaries, the familiar burn of guilt crept up your back. You just can’t do anything right tonight, huh? 

“There’s no point in standing around.” He stretched out a hand towards you, palms waiting. 

“... Heh, it’s a good thing it’s closed then huh, Haitham?” Placing your warm hand into his cold grasp, a meek smile stretches your lips. 

Alhaitham hums in response, mercifully guiding you in the direction of the night market. As you walked along the dimly illuminated path, your eyes traveled back to the stonewall once more, its height towering even over your husband. 

“I’ve never visited this place before… what a shame…” The comment slipped your tongue before you could bite it back. 

Alhaitham promptly stops, turning back to glance between you and the mossy wall. The lullabies of crickets filled the nothingness, much like they did during the wedding night. The smile on your face grew tighter, he must think you’re whining. 

“Woah??-” 

Before you could conquer up a line to transition from this scene, Alhaitham had released your hand, only for his arms to hoist you off the ground.

Tender hold balancing you against his firm frame, you had to tilt your neck down to look at his face. Following the subtle motion of his head you looked in the same direction, eyes widening as realization dawned upon you. 

The garden wall towered over the two of you, but as one, you were able to peer over the craggy barrier that once blocked your view. Wind blowing the floral fragrance over your face unobstructed. 

“What do you see?” The deep vibrations of his chest resonate against your body.

There was no one here tonight. Just a husband and wife enjoying a moment so private, not even the moon dare intrude. Sweetness meddling with bitter guilt, crafting something bittersweet.

“Flowers…very beautiful flowers,” you answered, gazing beyond the stones. 

“It’s a garden after all.” 

“Pfft!”

The contrast between this gentle scene and his curt response pushes a laugh from your breath. 

Patting his arm, you signaled for him to place you down, and carefully he follows your instruction. Once your feet touched the solid earth again, you pressed your face into his shoulder. 

“Thank you,” you whispered. 

“It’s our anniversary.” The justification of his actions. 

“Of course… now let’s go, I want to try the samosas there!” The brightness returns back to your lips. 

This time, you lead the way. Warm hands mingle with his cold ones, creating a comfortable temperature as you gallivanted along as one. Under the moonless sky, you told him your first true lie, a full lie. 

–

How troublesome, you said you’d clean the library tonight. Looking around at the piles of books littered all throughout and the coating of dust. If only a nap didn’t eat away at the day, then maybe you wouldn’t be so pressed for time. 

Oh well, rolling up your sleeves to begin your promised duty. No use in mulling over it, and no use in blaming the nap either. It’s to be expected, after all, tea time is now every three hours. 

Alhaitham’s collection of books is nothing to scoff at, in fact, you’re willing to wager his collection rivals those of academic archives.

How long did it take for him to gather them? What criteria must they fit to catch his interest?

Small inquiries bloomed through your thoughts as each journal slid back into its rightful shelves. 

It can’t be helped. Finally, after four years, you’re now allowed past the threshold of his library. The last corner of the house which was wholly his. You’re allowed a glimpse into his sanctuary. The exhilaration from this privilege was enough to outweigh the tediousness. 

Eyes switching back and forth between the two covers currently in your hands. So focused on deciding between which shelves to place them your ears failed to pick up the poised footsteps coming your way. It took a pair of adamant hands on your shoulders to wake you from these thoughts

“Why weren’t you at the door?” A familiar baritone voice.

Oh, you weren’t mindful of the time at all. Meeting teal irises as you glanced back over a shoulder, not missing the ghost of a furrow between his brow. Alhaitham isn’t one who’s fond of deviations from a practiced script. 

“Sorry, sorry I got caught up in these books.” You couldn’t help but giggle. 

Placing the books back down and spinning around, cradling his face between your warm palms, you carefully placed a kiss on his cold lips. 

“Welcome home, Haitham.” You whispered against them. 

Alhaitham hummed as his eyes closed, savoring the sensation of your warmth transferring to him. How unbefitting of such a noble creature, melting into the touch of a mere mortal. What a beautiful view to witness, so lovely in fact, a certain phrase clawed its way to the tip of your tongue. 

“I...” You waited for his brilliant beryl eyes to reveal themselves again.

The soft trills of crickets creep in through the window, a call back to a night when an executive decision was reached by both parties to remove necessary lines from the script.

“… wonder if you collect books in place of company.” You’ll heed their warning. 

There was a sigh that filled the distance between you. 

“They’re great stimulants for the mind, perhaps you should read some.” No hesitation in his sardonic counter to your playfulness. 

“Pfft! Haitham, I can’t read half of these languages.” 

 It’ll be redundant to reinstate such words into a script that wasn’t written for it no? A part of you wonders if the quip was supposed to be a diversion from the faint downward pull of his lips.

The windows were cracked ajar allowing the crisp night breeze into the sanctuary of the bedroom, the new air circulating through helped push out the stuffiness. However, Summer was always too hot for you.

“Haitham.” Under the glow of a waxing moon, your hands reached out. 

Soon, the cool cheeks of your husband settled into the space between your palms, taking away the excess heat. You brought him closer, allowing your foreheads to touch. 

To never be bothered by the polar extremes of temperature, how nice it is to be born of the supernatural. 

“Mmm… It’s been a while, aren’t you hungry?” You broke the comfortable silence. 

“I’m fine.” Two firm arms pulled you closer. 

His gray lashes were still shut, concealing away the teal stained with hints of scarlet. A tell-tale sign. It’s about five years too late for him to lie to you. Like a stubborn child refusing to take his medicine, where did the arrogant vampire go?

It’ll be best to change tactics, everything must have its fair compensation, a principle Alhaitham follows to its core. Sliding your hands away from his face and down along the contour of his body as your face rests into the crook of his neck.

“It’s really hot tonight.” Warm palms sneaking under the barrier of a shirt. 

There’s a hiss that sounds next to your ear as two hands firmly grasp your hips. Emboldened by his reaction, your hands continued to explore his sculpted frame, icy skin stealing away the warmth that smothered you. Alhaitham’s fingers kneaded your hips in contemplation. Moving closer to his ear, your breath ghosted over them. 

“Haitham, can you make it go away?” The final push. 

A deep growl reverberated against his chest, a sign of his surrender to your whims. A gasp is knocked out of your lips as your back meets with the plush mattress. This time two icy palms traversed the sweltering outline of your skin, goosebumps trailing behind his every touch. 

You hummed at the sensation as his hands travel further up, pushing the troublesome fabric of your shirt out of the way, exposing your soft breast to the air. A moan slipped off your tongue as Alhaitham gropes at the soft mounds, placing a kiss in the valley between them, cold fingers playing with the nipples now perked. 

Wrapping your legs around his solid frame, your hands tugged at the shirt that blocked your view of his godly body. A silent whine for him to take it off, and like the good husband he is, Alhaitham complies. In return, your shirt was also stripped from your frame, a fair trade. Cheeks stained red from shame your mind was too muddled to process, you blame it on the heat. 

More icy kisses trailed along your chest and neck, as cool fingers sneaked under the waistband of your shorts. His icy touches land straight against your puffy lips, labia glistening with slickness. You flinched at the sudden temperature change against your pussy, and his hand twitched at the small surprise. 

“Wet already, and nothing underneath…” Alhaitham’s baritone voice reports his finding against your ear. 

“Mmm,” you sounded out, shivering at the combination of his voice and teasing fingers. 

“How lewd.” 

“You don’t like it?”

Instantly, a stiff mass was pressed against the softness of your thighs. 

“Do I seem displeased?” 

Entangling your fingers into ashen locks, you let a giggle flutter your chest against his. Two hearts beating on opposite sides. Shorts pulled off the length of your legs and kicked to the side, leaving you bare underneath his mercy.

Rolling your hips against his cool palms to generate some friction, your clit begging for an ounce of attention. A quick slap against the sensitive bud jolts your body as you moan, a swift punishment for your impatience. 

As if to soothe the lingering sting, his fingers circle the bundle causing your legs to shiver as pleasure runs up them. Your folds release more of their essence, Alhaitham’s fingers collect it, tracing your entrance with fleeting touches. The heat engulfing your body was beginning to become too much, your walls clenching around nothing desperately. Your legs pull him closer, attempting to spur on the tempo. 

Your feeble strength is nothing against his, Alhaitham effortlessly pulls away from your trap. A whine left your throat as even his ashen locks freed themselves from your grasp. 

“Shh, let me have a taste first.” He pulls you toward the edge of the bed. 

Vascular hands gripping onto your thighs, spreading them open to allow him unobstructed access to your dripping greed. A firm hold denies you the opportunity to slither away from the cool breaths hitting your pussy lips. 

Alhaitham’s tongue teases its way between your folds, collecting your escaped honey into his mouth as he releases a satisfied grunt. Licking stripes along your pussy, cool lips brushing against your sensitive clit. Your fingers found their way back to his silken locks, the back of your hand blocking your mouth. 

Objecting against your cruel act of denying him the privilege of your moans, a finger was abruptly thrusted into your soaked walls with a squelch, causing your back to arch off the sheets. Hand no longer able to withhold the sinful sounds from his awaiting ears. 

  Another finger soon makes its way into your gummy walls, sliding to curl against that one spot deep within before sliding out and repeating. All the while his lips closed around your delicate bud, suckling and abusing it with his brutish tongue. 

He was supposed to cool you down in this unbearable heat, yet your body only burned more under his ministration. Your walls desperately clenched down as your fingers tightened their hold on his ashen hair, trying to find any perch for your sanity to cling to. 

Your actions only spurred him on, harsh sucks to your swollen clit and fingers increasing their pace. He wanted to ravish you wholly, to leave you a mess beyond saving. White flashes shoot up your trembling legs still held apart by his iron grip. If he continues then you might really fall beyond the grace of help. 

“S-slower.”

Your slurred speech must’ve made your words incoherent, as Alhaitham only added more force behind his movements. Your slicked walls clenched around his fingers as they continued to pinpoint your weak spot, the messy licks and sucks at your clit causing the knot in your core to grow tighter and tighter. Or maybe your husband is just too famished to know mercy. 

Back raising off the bed, no matter how hard your fingers cling onto his hair and the messy sheets you couldn’t stop the fall off the edge as your eyes saw the back of your head. A broken moan resounded through the room. Hopefully, it’s too late for anyone on a late-night stroll past the open window. Every fiber of your being shivering and nerve overwhelmed with hot flashes of pleasure. All the while Alhaitham’s tongue never stopped its torture. 

Laying bonelessly upon the ruined sheets, hands limp by your side. Your chest heaves trying to remember how to breathe as a large figure looms over you. Your quivering pussy reluctantly released his fingers as a string of slick connected them.

Unfocused eyes watch as your husband’s tongue cleans the essences off, making sure to clean every inch. 

You felt so empty inside, the heat between your legs only escalating as your walls clenched around nothing. Was it the heat or pleasure that’s melting your mind? You don’t know and were too desperate to care. You wanted relief from the heat and judging by the hard shape pressed into your thigh, he needed relief too. 

Wordless your nimble fingers reached down, curling over the waistbands of his pants and boxers you pulled them down. Finally freeing his cock, it slaps against his naval as the leaking precum spears across his exposed skin. Playfully, your finger toys with his swollen tip, gathering up the precum as a hiss leaves his clenched teeth.

Making sure to look directly into his piercing eyes, you brought the finger into your mouth. Swirling your tongue around the digit and then pulling it out from your lips with an audible pop. 

Your shameless behavior earned you a guttural growl from Alhaitham, soon your hand was pinned above your head. His face was just inches away, the brilliant teal of eyes now wholly glazed over with crimson. Everyone is warned to never play with fire, but it’s just too addicting to resist. 

“Brazen girl,” he snarls. 

You countered with a grin, cheeks a deep red, but what’s there to hide from someone who’s laid you bare numerous times before? 

Sucking in a gasp as his thick tip rubbed against your negligent folds, your leaking walls trembling with anticipation. Longing for the stretch only he could offer you.

“Beg.”

Of course, nothing ever comes easily when it comes to him. Self-control honed by years of experience, all held by the iron grip of his analytical mind. A battle you’ll never win, so it’s best to sacrifice your self-respect in favor of your aching pussy. A fool for pleasure, gone far beyond the point of saving. 

“Please… I want you to ruin me… please ruin me.” Sinful words rolling off your tongue. 

Words that finally snapped the last thread of self-restraint Alhaitham had, instantaneously his hips met yours. Your gummy walls, long ingrained in his shape, welcomed the familiar stretch, clamping down as a wet slap resounded through the room. Alhaitham pushed his cock in further, pinning your body deeper into the mattress, hissing at the heat that engulfed his length. 

Your mouth falls open, pleasure shooting through overstimulated nerves, the bed creaking underneath you as his hips pulled away just to snap back. Setting a more punishing pace than usual, the bed shook in protest as your pussy welcomed each thrust, slick walls wrapping around his girth.

Moans flowed out of your mouth like how water flows through rivers, any semblance of embarrassment drowned out by molten pleasure. Two bodies connecting and mingling together to create a private heaven. 

Alhaitham’s hand abandons its grip on your wrist in favor of getting more leverage on your hips, purple marks promising to appear in the morning.

Before your muddled mind could process it, icy lips crashed into your plush ones, a tongue crossed the line. Sloppy and hungry was how his mouth devoured yours. Tongues clashing and dancing as he shallows each moan of yours. 

He pulls away momentarily as you took the opportunity to steal a few breaths. Scarlet-hazed eyes observe the transgression just committed before his lips moved back to reconnect with yours.

It’s clear he doesn’t give a damn about that arbitrary rule anymore. Why must forbidden acts always feel so good? 

Free hands now found purchase on his broad back, nails digging into the smooth skin trying to balance out the onslaught of pleasure invading every fiber of your being. Legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into the sheets with you never once interrupting his savage pace.

Your attempts at staving off your independent orgasm were futile, teary eyes rolling back as your walls clenched and your body shook. 

Alhaitham released your lips in time to savor the broken symphony of a moan leaving your throat, the sheets underneath you a soaking mess, proof of your fall from cloud nine.

Despite this, your husband doesn’t slow down in the slightest. The sight in front of him only heightened the hunger in his eyes. 

The solid oak bed frame swayed in time with the pistoning of his thrust, tight walls clamping down yet giving no resistance as his thick tip continued to bully that sweet spot. His chilly breath against your nape, tongue running a wet trail to prepare the area. Sensations your melted mind could barely register.

His fingers dig deeper into your hips as he pulls them flushed against his, thick cock pressing further into your wanton core. 

A sharp prick shoots up your nape before the sensation of your walls being filled beyond capacity distracts from it. Your pussy pitifully attempts to suck in every last drop before succumbing, letting his essence join yours in making a mess of the sheets. Trembling hands run along his muscular back, pulling him closer to your heaving chest. 

Your pants counted in time with the hands of a clock, shards of your sanity slowly returning to you as gulps moved down Alhaitham’s throat. With a satisfied sigh, his incisors released your neck, tongue lapping over the escaped drops of scarlet.

Slowly pulling away from your embrace, his untainted teal eyes scan over you. Hair fanned out behind you, chest still heaving, and cheeks still violently flushed. You must look absolutely ruined, just as you asked of him. 

Carefully, he pulls out from your gummy walls, trembling walls allowed to gather their senses again. Detangling your legs from him with tender hands he repositions your droopy body comfortably along plush pillows. 

Humming in gratitude as you rolled onto your stomach, face buried into the luxurious pillows which held his opulent scent. The aftermath of passion gradually faded away from recovering nerves. The space next to you dips down as his frame joins you, a cool hand resting along the curve of your back. 

The soft sways of leaves in the night breeze, slowing pants, and the sweet lull of nothingness filled the air of this private haven. Two hearts, one mortal and one immortal, beating together.

“Would you want more time?” Came a question that broke the silence.

A hushed invitation slipped to you behind the watchful eyes of the divine. A lure towards deep waters by his beckoning voice. 

Perhaps your curiosity has influenced him as well. All your innocent inquiries must’ve muddled the line, question after question brushing away at the definition until misunderstanding took its place.

This won’t do. Your time is too short and his time too precious to be wasted on miscommunication.

Since it was you who muddled the line, it shall be you who reestablishes it. 

“I was born a human,” you began.

Pausing to enjoy the feeling of his cool fingers drawing unknown shapes into your back and the gentle vibrations of his hum. 

“I will die as one.”

With those simple words, the line was once again clearly drawn in the sand.

Separating you from him, and him from you. Just as the laws of morals, nature, and this world dictated. 

After all, it was you who said: “For a fraction of your time, I’ll give you all of mine”. Not the other way around. The price he’d have to pay is far greater than anything you’re willing to sacrifice.

No, you’re too selfish for that.

Under a waning moon, the market was lively tonight. Bright lanterns and stringed lights challenged the radiance of the sky’s stars. The twinkling momentarily distracts your mind from the cries of your muscles and the aches of your bones. 

What a simple thing you are, or perhaps you’re just a human in the purest sense. So entranced by the beauty of a rose, it distracts from the sting of thorns.

Such drab comparisons have no place in your thoughts tonight. 

As if to run away from them, your legs moved with volition, weaving in and out of the surges of crowds with clumsy grace, some haggling, some laughing, some yelling. 

Glazing up at the moon above, it was as if she was following your every step, watching, judging the performance of this daydream.

It wasn’t long before the volition faded away as you slowed to a halt, lung greedily trying to hog all the air they could. A herbal scent found its way to your senses, a quick glance to your left confirms your suspicions. 

It looks like your legs couldn’t carry you far enough in the end. Stopping right in front of a display of dried Kalpalata Lotuses, the moon must be laughing right now. 

You weren’t sure which one tasted more bitter, the herb or the irony.

Straightening your posture back up, ready to push through the burn of your muscles once more before a cold grasp grounded you back into reality. 

Whipping your head around, bewildered eyes connected with placid teal. There was a furrow in the brows that framed the hypnotic azure.

“Don’t go where my hand can’t reach.” Alhaitham’s atonal voice carried over the chatter of the streets. 

Bringing your husband out of the house, only to then leave him alone in a sea of people. What a capricious wife you are.

Perhaps Alhaitham foresaw this exact situation, that’d explain the recent spike in his reclusiveness. Seeing this, a giggle bubbled up in your throat. 

“Oh?~ Someone’s been watching my dramas. Where’d you learn that line from?” 

As he sighs your giggles only increased, cold fingers loosening around your wrist. 

“It’s exceptionally crowded tonight, be mindful of your surroundings.” 

You simply nodded along, a sign to him that you’re only absorbing half of his words, another sigh from him and another giggle from you. 

“A bag of Kalpalata Lotuses for the two of you tonight as well?” The vendor, ready with a fresh paper bag, intrudes on this raillery. 

Your lips pressed into a thin line, silencing your giggles as your eyes trailed over the dulled hues of the dried herb. 

Four hours went to three went to two and now down to one. Each cup becoming more and more unpalatable. There comes a point when a bucket can longer keep a sinking ship afloat, perhaps it’s better to gaze upon the starry night as one disappears under the waves.

“Actually… Padisarah tea tastes better, I want a bag of that instead.” A honeyed smile dawned upon your lips as you glazed back up at him. 

Alhaitham parts his lips, a response ready to fall off his tongue, but he closes them just as swiftly. Returning a hum of acknowledgment at your request, handing over the mora in exchange for the bag of dried Padisarah. 

Your attention has already shifted away from this scene, eyes avoiding the dull hues, finally landing upon wood carved with much creative liberty. There’s enough space for another sculpture no? It’d be nice to add more company to the home. 

Before the muscles in your legs could budge, a hand twitched, reminding you of the loose hold still around your wrist. 

A good partner should respect the wishes of their spouse. Warm fingers slide into the space between cold ones, intertwining like the lights above with the sky.

All it took was a soft tug for a human to move a vampire through the bustling crowd. 

A common phrase uttered to unwell patients is ‘mind over body’.

However, there’s only so much the body can take before it rebels against the mastermind.

Even your own body had enough of your selfishness. 

Protest taking the form of wheezes, lethargy, and that piercing ache forever present deep within. You were always the one to toe the line, pushing your luck to the limits and beyond, only stopped by a towering wall. 

It’s time to lay rest under silken sheets and plush pillows. Something you’ve been doing very often these days. Perhaps your body is just practicing for the ending.  

The cumbersome duvet fails to capture the wisps of warmth only a Sumerian Summer can offer, it fails to prevent the chill from penetrating deep into your every bone.

Dull senses alert you to a shift in weight on the mattress. Fighting against the leaden weight of your lids, you opened your eyes to the sight of your husband.

Ashen hair slightly trussed and button down wrinkled as his frame lays next to yours. He must have come here straight from the door, a once-practiced tradition slowly faded away much like strength from your limbs. 

The muscles on his face relaxed, neutral by default, yet his eyes were downturned much like the corners of his lips.

Your husband must be deep in thought. His thumb is digging into his palm again, it seems that Alhaitham has developed a new habit. Hazy eyes carefully focused on how the nail threatened to break the surface of his palm.

That’s no good. 

Ignoring the exhaustion, you slipped your fingers in between his, shielding his palm from the assaults of his thumb, settling into a gentle embrace as two rings clinked together.

The weight of a teal gaze centers on you.

“My husband is such a handsome actor.” Breathy voice barely a whisper. 

Chest protesting against your action with wheezes, but you needed to finish this script, it's what a co-star should do.

“You don’t have to play this role anymore.” Exposing your neck to him as your lashes fluttered shut, it was time to pay your dues. 

Much like the clauses written on parchment signed by two names, the ending of this script must be followed, your body already taking its cue.

At least the doctors were accurate this time, how punctual your body is. 

A brisk breath brushed against your nape, skin reacting with a trail of goosebumps as you feel the presence of sharp incisors draws near before grazing against your delicate neck. Your mind counts back, ready for the final pierce of pain to come. 

Three… Two… The pressure of his fangs disappears from your skin. Replaced by the touch of gentle lips.

Opening your eyes with confusion and lost anticipation, you were met with stoic eyes.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back.”

“I’m not holding myself back,” Alhaitham answers without the slightest pause.

Your chest wheezes once more at your lung’s clumsy attempt at gathering a breath.

“What a silly vampire,” you giggled, the crimson hues were obvious even to your dimming vision. 

After the numerous questions you asked and the innumerable answers he gave these past seven years, you still couldn’t fully comprehend him. Neither of you were the masterminds you thought you were, huh? 

In the end, both of you were fools trying to perform a stage play.

Your mind ponders this revelation as Alhaitham tugs the covers up your body, gentle hand running along your body through the thick fabric barrier. 

The faint ticks of a clock pull a buried secret from the guard sanctuary of your thoughts, dusting off the obscurity to reexamine the details in full clarity.

What was the end of the path like? Well, just like the scene blocked off by a garden wall under that moonless night, it’s all the same.

Maybe tonight you’ll tell him the truth.

What was over that wall? With its stones piled high and with moss creeping through its crevices, a wall that only creatures born within the grace of an undecided god could peer past. What did it conceal?

Nothing.

A nothingness so empty, ultimate peace could reside. 

Seems like you’ve discovered something new in the end, you shameless fool. Death is nothingness in the end, a nothingness that fingers pass right through. 

So instead of holding on to nothing, you’d rather grasp a cold hand as nothingness envelopes you. He didn’t seem to mind. 

You wanted to tell this to the creature who humored your daydream for all these years. If he doesn’t want your blood then you could at least impart this priceless insight to him. 

Oh, it’s such a shame that your tongue just won’t move anymore. Instead, you’ll offer him a smile. In hopes that Alhaitham could decrypt the curvature of your lips with his seven years of experience. To translate your silent message into a language known to man with his lifetimes of wisdom. 

It’s all you could do to thank him for holding your hand as the dirge of Summer crickets fade out and the last first rays of a grieving sun kiss the horizon. The final wisp of warmth escaping down your cheek. 

Fin~

©️vivalabunbun DON’T PLAGIARIZE, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. 

[thisfanisgonesorry]

ironhead — hobie brown

i got possessed and had an epiphany because to me this just makes SO MUCH sense. also i HATE writing accents fuck off. kinda mid i lowkey struggled w the dialogue idc the main point is that brother ties you up. i promise ill write him better if i write him again im just. THOUGHTS THOUGHTS THOUGHTS.

🕷

tags: smut, bondage, shibari, light dom/sub, i dont think hed like power dynamics, however; mutual light teasing (not a huge amount of dialogue, bros mouth is busy). tit play (i dont usually write this one, oh god), aftercare duh, lots of kisses cos holy fucking shit his lips look so nice SJAJAJA

(my reqs are open pleasepleasepleaseplease, ill write most of the guys from spv, pleasepleaseplease)

guys my beta reader died while reading this.. i hope its okay

🕷

“How does tha’ feel? Not dodgy?” He asked, tugging on the webbing. I was sitting on the bed, leaning against a pile of pillows as he made sure the web-ropes were secure and done up properly.

“Good.” I spoke, and he gestured for him to keep talking so he could make sure everything was going to go smoothly. “Uh, not too tight but not too loose. It’s fine, I think. Feels sticky.”

"Want me to walk you through this?” He asked, his hands resting on my knees. “This is a spiral futomomo, can y’move y’legs?”

“No.” I spoke, trying to move my legs, only able to shut my thighs together.

“This is just a basic star harness, usually don’t have the arms tied up. This one does ‘cause y’can’t keep your ‘ands to y’self.” He speaks briefly, his main goal is to get the point across to keep this all safe, and his secondary goal is to push my buttons as frequently as he can. He slapped the side of my tit, watching it bounce slightly. I took a sharp inhale at the unexpected feeling, and he used it as his chance to pinch my nipple harshly. “Then there’s a dragonfly sleeve to make sure y’stay still. Can you move?”

“No..”

“Good.” He spoke with another harsh tug and another slap, his eyes were glazed slightly as he admired the slight red hand print forming on the squishy flesh, forming very quickly — faster than he anticipated, the skin was just so delicate.

He repositioned us slightly, kneeling closer to me and trying to pull me to sit on his lap despite my efforts in keeping my legs shut.

“Darlin’, show me that pretty li’l cunt.”

I reluctantly spread my legs and he pulled me to sit on his thighs, nuzzling into my neck and pressing soft kisses into the skin.

“Can I get a snog?” I teased slightly.

“Don’t be cheeky.” He said firmly, ignoring me completely and lowering himself to my chest; making keen eye contact with me as he pressed a kiss on the reddening hand print, wrapping his plump lips softly around the areola.

He nipped at the skin slightly as his hand reached up to the other. He groped it for a moment, before pinching the nipple in his hand. There wasn’t an abundance of volume besides the wet sounds his mouth was making, though he noticed the way I writhed in his touch, groaning silently and breathing heavily.

His other hand dipped to between my thighs, feeling the wetness before rubbing his fingers in circles around the clit.

“That’s it.” He praised slightly, whispering into my flesh. “Good girl.”

I began to grind down onto his hand, feeling him enjoy his time with my tits. I sighed, throwing my head back and struggling against the sticky ropes. 

“Baby..”

“Stop squirming.” He warned.

I knew I had no hope of getting out of his webs, and if I did, there’d probably be a consequence to fucking up what he wanted to do but god, he looked so delectable. So touchable. I helplessly tried to grind myself on his fingers, trying to distract myself from the way my arms were tied to me.

“C’mon, ask nicely. I know y’want more.”

“Pretty please? Need more.” I asked sweetly.

His own need began taking over him and it was blatantly obvious; I could feel his rock hard dick pressing against my thigh through his pants.

“Y’sound so nice like that.”

He slipped his fingers inside me. groaning and bucking his hips as he felt the soft, wet walls. His thumb slowly rubbed my clit as his index and middle worked in a ‘come hither’ motion. He worked me slowly, planning to drag this out as long as possible for his own enjoyment. His movements were meticulous, extremely preplanned, like he’d been sitting on this fantasy for a long time, but that strategic energy didn’t last long.

“You’re so fuckin’ hot, love.” He groaned, trying to pronounce his words clearly despite his lust filled slur. He could feel the slight clench around his fingers, and the rest of his body got greedy with want.

“Keep doin’ that, right there, Hobes.”

He pressed his tongue flat against the nipple, opening his mouth enough to look erotic; He sat like there for a moment, catching my attention to watch him, a low groan crawling its way out of my throat. He had a smug grin as he moved to bite and suck on the flesh, his other hand no longer methodical, all it portrayed was an incessant need.

I let out a loud moan. “Fuck, that’s so good.”

Feeling the tight, squishy walls of my insides sent him into a desire filled stupor, doing nothing but greedily grabbing what he could as he worked me closer to orgasm. The feeling of his talented hands moving against my nerves was doing wonders, and it was doing those wonders quite fast.

He began grinding his hard dick against my thigh. “Y’so..” He groaned. “Bloody hell, you’re wretched.” He tried to joke.

“Coming from you.” I bit back, throwing my head back again as he kept fucking his fingers into me and torturing my tits.

“Wanted.. Had it all planned out. You’ve fucked it, yeah? So fuckin’ hot. Can’t resist.”

“Not my fault you got worked up so fast.”

“Don’t.” He grunted with a harsh bite. “You’re so tight, love, need to bury my cock in you. Need..” He groaned.

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’m gonna cum.”

“Need’a feel y’cum around my fingers. On my prick. Let me feel that tight cunt, baby. Gonna fuck you all night long.” He rambled, pressing soft kisses on the flesh, watching the flowering bruises form.

He could sense the impending orgasm as my breathing got heavy and rapid, grinding against his hand messily and squirming at the restraints. 

“Shit..”

“You’re so close.” He taunted. “Let me feel it.”

My mouth opened and closed like I was gasping for air, his mouth trailed from my tits, up to my collarbone, neck, jaw and eventually landed intoxicatingly sweetly on my mouth. 

“Hobes.” I moaned into his mouth and he swallowed it with a welcoming groan.

“Y’re so pretty like this ‘n we still ‘ave all night.” He spoke, pulling my body closer to his as he moved his mouth to the other breast, planning to mark it up too.

“Mhm. I’m gonna—”

“Please.”

That was it. I couldn’t survive much longer, I tried to tug on the ropes but to no avail as I began clenching desperately around his fingers.

“Hobie, Hobie..” I moaned.

“Y/n, Y/n.” He moaned back in an attempt to mock me.

I slumped down, resting my head on his shoulder as I moaned loudly, letting myself unwind and cum all over his fingers. I kept struggling against the ropes and he grabbed my wrists, trying to hold it in place as he groaned at the feeling of my spasming cunt. He kept trying to fuck into me as I came down from the high.

I gasped and panted for air, leaning against him and he pulled his drenched fingers out, sticking them in his beautiful mouth before whispering. “Keep strugglin’ and you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He spoke, not as a warning but as a statement.

“Wanna touch you.”

“That’s why the ropes are there, love.” He breathed heavily, grinding his aching cock against the wetness, ruining his jeans slightly. “God.” He grunted. “You’re so sexy.” 

“Go on.” I rolled my eyes sarcastically, leaning forward to kiss him.

— When he says ‘all night’, he really means it.

🕷

BONUS ROUND:

“Don’t fall asleep on me, darlin'.” He spoke as he quickly cut the webbing around my arms, before struggling to take off the harness without moving me around too much, laying me down on the soft pillows.

“Rope burn.” I mumbled tiredly, rubbing my wrists the second they were free.

“That wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t squirm so much.”

I let out a hum as an indirect response to let him know I acknowledge it. He removed the harness and began kissing my wrists slightly, looking up at me with soft eyes. He placed quick kisses on my neck where the rope dug into the skin as he lazily sliced open the fotomomo knots.

The second that one of my legs were free, he gently grabbed my calf and pulled the leg out so it laid straight

“Move around, stretch ‘em out.” He directed.

I moved my legs around, trying to get the stiffness out as he held my calf, pressing soft kisses into the skin before quickly untying the other and doing the same.

“Keep stretchin’ it, good girl.”

Once both legs were stretched out and he was satisfied with the amount of kisses littered over them, he raised back to my body, pressing a soft kiss on my lips.

“Can you get me a shirt?” I asked weakly with a grin.

He sucked his teeth as he got up, looking for one of his shirts that I could put one on and comfortably sleep in.

“Next time, I’m tying a vibrator between your legs.” He joked as he dug through the wardrobe.

✰ pt 2 >> LET ME HEAR YOU SCREAM

[sorenblr]

on the off chance you like Dragon Quest, can you explain its appeal? Japanese people really like it from what I've read, but it seems to play second fiddle to FF in the West

I love Dragon Quest. I have a general JRPG brain illness that isn't confined to SMT. There's even a DQIII reference in Marsyas and the Vampyr...

Anyway, I think the appeal is self-evident: the Toriyama designs, the meat-and-potatoes simplicity, the emphasis on individual vignettes that lends the series an easy, almost serialized narrative tone, the relentless charm of it all- even Sugiyama's classical inspirations stand apart from the prog-infused soundscape of the genre. The English releases also benefit from localization, injecting color and accent that conform so well to the original tone that it hardly scans as adaptation. There is a character and magnetism at play here that no other franchise dares emulate. The series is somehow totally archetypal but completely inimitable. It's a very tidy balancing act.

The individual design elements are unremarkable - the ascetic turn-based combat centered on simple buffs and damage control, rudimentary dungeon crawling, barely extant character building except where the vocation system is present- but tend to cohere under this satisfying sense of polish and planning. And while there's more mechanical experimentation across the series than is evident at a glance, DQ still has a fundamentally conservative design ethos that sets it apart from "modern" JRPGs while ensuring a consistent reception from the more settled-in demographics: liking one entry in the series is no guarantee that you'll love the rest, but you're unlikely to be disillusioned going from one game to another.

It's also difficult to overstate the domestic legacy status. In the Western imaginary, the generic JRPG probably resembles a sort of desacralized FFVII. In Japan that image has always belonged to DQ (and more specifically DQIII), where its status as the progenitor of the genre is less clouded by the decontextualization that Japanese games experience during export- less so in the globalized present, but especially pronounced during the crucial formative years for both series. The emphasis on rudiments is something that's more permissible as a result.

But that comparison relates back to FF's dominance in the West, which is mostly attributable to the series' output during the fifth console generation. More expansive allowances for 3D representation created a demand for games designed around the cutting edge. This is the moment that FF cemented its modern reputation, across three separate entries*, as a series of constantly re-inventive, systems innovative, graphical-showcase melodramas. Meanwhile, the mainline of DQ greeted the moment with a single entry: DQVII, an infamously long and plodding game that married simple polygonal backgrounds with 2D sprites in a fashion that too much resembled the rustic SNES titles of the previous generation to suit the tastes of the average PlayStation Magazine subscriber. Debuting several months after the launch of the PS2 inflamed the issue. Considering the technocratic lust for graphical bombast that informed consumer demand at the time, it's no surprise that Western markets imprinted on FF. There's more at play there- from a marketing perspective, the diminutive peasant-protagonist of DQVII was at a disadvantage against Nomura's millennial aesthetic- but that's the thrust of it.

By the time DQVIII released, FF was already dominant, enjoying a consistent stream of profit from their MMO sector even as the wait between FFX and FFXII spanned the entire lifespan of the new system. With DQIX crafted for the DS and DQX being passed over for localization, the mainline series essentially sat out the critical transition to HD, so FF maintained its edge in the West despite increasingly troubled development and exploding production costs. Things have dovetailed neatly, with DQXI charting a series-best performance in the West, filling a niche for console JRPG experiences of this scale that has been largely unoccupied since the PS2 era. FF is meanwhile occupied with recreating, in a fit of Byzantine decadence, the very title that established its grip on the Western imagination.

*It hasn't enjoyed the same critical longevity as FFVII, but it really can't be overstated how acclaimed FVIII was at release, and the move to less abstracted, more 'realistic' models was crucial to that reception.

[silkkorchid]

Amaryllis opinions on the Warlords + Mai + her siblings

I wrote this to just give insight on what she thinks about others. (Sorry for the pings)

-

Oda Forces

Nobunaga

“He is pretty intimidating at first, but over time when I started working as a ninja for the Oda my perspective of him changed. He is a great person who unfortunately has to make difficult choices. And him not having the best choice of words at time.”

The rest of the warlords + Mai + her siblings are underneath

Hideyoshi

“Hideyoshi is my adoptive father who, well gave me a second chance on live despite the fact I- stained my hand with blood to protect those I cared about in that village I resided in before I left with Hideyoshi. Either way, I work under him like Mitsunari. I do play pranks on him occasionally.”

Mitsuhide

“Him? He is truly a kitsune. But he cares a lot about everyone and willing to risk everything to have his goal of his. He is also the one who taught me how to wield a blade and told me to be a kunoichi, a female ninja. It did took awhile to prove my worth to the Oda but I did it. Even some people say I’m almost like him since they don’t know what we are thinking but way more expressive.”

Mitsunari

“He is more over an older brother to me and my adopted siblings. We do love to make upcoming battle plans with the information I get but most of the time we just read books. We work under Hideyoshi and some of my siblings do so, we just have a sibling gathering moment.”

Masamune

“That eyepatch guy? Well we haven’t interacted much but his cooking is always the best! I give him some recipes I happen to come across for him to try out. Before you ask, yes he did flirt with me. But I quickly ended that with a slap to his face, which those who witnessed it was left stunned. And I think I saw some coins being passed around, I guess a bet was going on at that time.”

Ieyasu

“The spicy lover guy… let’s say that things between us is weird. We may specialize in medicine but for him, it’s more over like something he needed to learn to help himself. Despite that weird sense, we do work well together but, he should be more straight over with this words as first time people may think he is serious.”

Keiji

“He was gone for a while till he came back to warn about Kicho plan, which unfortunately succeeded. But he is a fun guy to be around, although there was some times I saw right through him with that false persona of his. He did confronted me about it but I promised I won’t say a word about it to the others.”

Ranmaru

“When I first saw him, he almost reminded me of someone who I had met before. Soon after he became one of Nobunaga’s pages, he came to me to talk about how things go on in the Oda as I am a source for many. It still doesn’t make it better when I feel like something is off about him when I tell him what goes on in the Oda.”

Useugi & Takeda Forces

Kenshin

“That crazy war manic is different than the Oda Warlords in so many ways. From what I heard from Sasuke, he would chase after people to have them spar with him in which they loose. He is truly deserving of The Dragon of Echigo. But, I would avoid coming across him as I like to live at the moment.”

Shingen

“That man has been flirting so much that I understand Yuki’s pain. I did had a one on one conversation with him before. He’s not a bad person but someone who just wants to regain Kai back in any means. He really needs to take care of his health. As some pneumonia can be cured with antibiotics but we don’t have that in the Sengoku period. I did gave him some medicine out of charge to help him slow his illness. Hopefully…”

Yukimura

“I know he is a warlord the moment I saw him in Echigo with Sasuke and Morgan. But I kept it a secret as there was probably no need to share it. Despite him saying things he didn’t mean to, he’s a good guy. But I would rather not come across him on the battlefield. I don’t think I would kill him if I did…”

Kanetsugu

“The main strategist for Kenshin Useugi. He is one to not be underestimated by any means. I would like to test my theory about him, but after I found out the debt he owes to Kenshin. I dropped that test quickly as he already went through enough. He may consider himself as a monster due to him killing that noble in self defense but of course, in this time period; kill a noble, you are convicted automatically. But I do hope someday he will understand that he isn’t one when he comes across that important person.”

Sasuke

“Ninja buddies 4 life. I may had been transported here years before him and Morgan. But I’m glad he adjusted to the circumstances here since war is common here. I did ran across him when he spied on the Oda for the first time, but I let him be since he pose no threat to anyone at the time. We did ran across each other again in Echigo with Yuki and Morgan, I will never forget those times. Just being friends and confusing Yuki with our modern language. Thinking about it makes me remember how much fun we had casting aside our circumstances to just enjoy life.”

Yoshimoto

“That guy… he became nothing more than a husk of himself after that battle. I saw his battles before, but it’s like deep down he didn’t want to fight but had no choice to keep fighting. I also overheard that he think he is just a puppet… why can’t he realize that he has been in control all this time, but never exerted his authority to show he is capable of leading to his vassal…”

Lone Forces

Kennyo

“That monk, he may had been someone that many of the people of that village of mine that I reside look up to. Only to be defeated. He may be an enemy of mine, but does he think that being a demon better for everyone? Still, I can’t forgive him going on this self-destructive path and making the peasant class fight with him. Which is why I haven’t forgiven him nor forgotten him yet.”

Motonari

“That pirate guy is one that I like to watch from a far. I did wreck those cannons when I was in my fox form, it seems like he didn’t expect that to happen. But he is unpredictable in many ways, and he is able to deceive others to help him. He is deserving to be called the God of Deceit.”

Kicho

“I met Kicho before, it was before he betrayed the Oda. I felt off when he disappeared out of nowhere, only to find out that he went to the future. Nobody but me and siblings knows about it. We did plan to tell Sasuke and Mai, but we held back as I know Kicho can find out about us not being in this period. Let alone I don’t want to risk my true identity to be exposed by him.”

Other Characters

Mai

“I felt bad for her when she came across Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Mitsuhide. I did came to her defense with reasons that she had many chances to leave Nobunaga in that moment but she didn’t. But I was shocked when she dashed off into the forest. Only to see her in the castle, if I have to guess, she is a strange person but welcoming nonetheless. I do ask her to make kimonos for me time to time.”

Morgan ( @morgan-squad )

“Morgan and I came across each other when they were still residing in Echigo under the protection of Kenshin. Their reaction finding out about me being part of the Oda was funny to watch. I did had a long talk with them about my duties and position in the Oda Forces. But finding out a group of ronins attacked them… let’s just say, I made sure those ronins didn’t forget the consequences of hurting someone I cared about. :)”

Rubia ( @rubia8 )

“She came to the Castle out of nowhere, but I welcome her to the family. I do sometimes drag her in my pranks but we do get some good laughs out of it. She may act all gentle but she is more capable to put up a fight. All three of us were trained by Mitsuhide, and man it wasn’t easy. Rubia ask Mitsuhide because she didn’t want to be the only to not know how to wield a sword.”

J ( @colourless-hydrangeas ) not sure yet might change later on

“J is one that is nice. She was in a middle of a custody dispute between Shingen and Hideyoshi. But she was able to solve it by allowing both of them be her legal guardians or parents I should say. Hydrangeas played an important role in having this conflict between the Oda and Takeda in private matters. I have respect for her not only because she made the conflict to be private but, also because she showed that she is a capable leader; one who has the power to negotiate and achieve results that doesn’t require bloodshed.”

[rachelsshowerthoughts]

Sent a response regarding the Aware AU stuff, I hope it was interesting, also had other Kwami thoughts.

Cos like, I love the substitute angle but I doubt that'd it sustainable long term once more Kwami start coming out.

Kagami is likely on lock for an early Kwami due to Marinette, meanwhile Chloe may need to get one by 'accident'.

I do love Queen Bee, though Benom is so low key over powered it can make fights vexing, but I also love Snake!Chloe & Tiger!Chloe.

The latter also fits given how similar but distinct one can make the Tiger Miraculous, especially if they get creative with it, or so I feel.

Roaar: Well now, you aren't who I was supposed to be with, & I'm not where I was supposed to be >:3c Chloe: I get the sense that isn't a problem for you. Roaar: No way, I'm Roaar, let's cause havoc!

Cue Chloe & Adrien showing up with supremely destructive Kwami and the tagline from that art piece, "Supreme Feline Violence!" as their new catchphrase.

so, first of all, I read that last line as "Sublime Feline Violence!" which . . . sounded odd until I reread it, but anyway!

So, one thing I meant before, about my problems with the Kwami, is I see a lot of problems with them as . . . well, kind of being the Order's fault? Like. The implication I keep getting, is that the Order BOUND the Kwami to their will, basically, which is why they have to do whatever their "owners" say. Like, just. I don’t know how to describe it properly, just.

Ok. Let's try this. The Kwami don’t read as "partners". They read closer to indentured servants. They aren’t allowed to do anything without asking their "owners" for permission. Gabriel can literally take Nooroo's speech capability away. Yes, maybe it’s convenient that the Kwami have NO IDEA about the power ups and stuff, as it means Gabe doesn’t know about it, but the implications . . . the Kwami aren’t allowed to know about magic that affects them, that CHANGES how they work (imagine this as a medical procedure you are REQUIRED TO HAVE, but aren’t allowed to know what someone will be doing to you). And the reason why is that they HAVE to answer their "masters". They CAN'T say no. Seriously, imagine the series with the only change being that the Kwami don't HAVE to answer questions. They can keep their own secrets and thoughts. How much shit gets solved if that happens?

Just . . . I don’t think I can explain properly how UNCOMFORTABLE the Kwami's situation makes me. Like, it feels like the only difference between Gabriel and the Order? Their goals. #FreeTheKwami

(Moving on, I'm not sure how coherent this is . . . )

I think the substitute angle would still be in play, but after the Big Conversation (not sure if you saw my take on that?), I feel like Marinette starts pushing a little more, and in my head, I see a compromise that looks odd from canon-view. Part of Fu's argument would, weirdly, be that the doubles are in danger, because the Miraculous are still primarily Adrien's and Marinette's. Like, Yes Chloé and Adrien spend maybe equal amount of time as Chat Noir, but the split is probably closer to 60-40 in Adrien's favour, with Chloé taking over the 40% he CAN'T get away without risking consequences with his dad. And Marinette, once she gets the go ahead, would split that even less, still primarily being Ladybug, with Kagami only taking over in the case of illness, or if Marinette REALLY can't leave without hurting someone (babysitting or similar comes to mind). So the rest of the time, Chloé and Kagami would be defenceless against Hawk Moth, should he figure them out or target them.

Marinette, of course, agrees. She does often have an easier time seeing things from Fu's point of view, especially because despite his hang ups, it isn’t like he's outright WRONG. The doubles ARE in danger without a way to protect themselves. Her solution? Hand the doubles a Miraculous of their own!

Yeah, this is where it gets loud.

Fu is STRIDENTLY against this. Oh no, no way, no how, absolutely NOT, Marinette, I expected better from you-! But Marinette stands her ground. She argues right back, and I think a combination of Fu seeing her more favourably, and Marinette making some very good points might sway him.

Having more Miraculous out is dangerous? Having the ones ALREADY out is dangerous, how much more danger are we talking here?

Fu doesn’t know who the doubles are? Well, Ladybug and Chat Noir don’t know who each other is, and that’s seen as a layer of security.

The doubles are defenceless? They don’t have to be!

Just this intense back and forth (Chloé and Adrien are watching this like a tennis match) before Marinette plays her trump card. Fu says he trusts her judgement. Well, Marinette trusts the Chats Noir, and her friend, Ladybird (Kagami's Ladybug handle? Not a major fan, i see it more as a combo name for Ladybug/Peacock, but I don’t currently have other ideas). More than that, the fights are clearly getting harder. They NEED back up. SHE needs back up. Back up she can TRUST.

eventually, Fu caves.

As to which Miraculous they get, I too love Queen Bee, but hear me out. Kagami gets the Bee (maybe can extend the trompo-top stinger into a fencing sabre?), and Chloé gets the Turtle. Yep, Fu gives up Wayzz. Why?

So Wayzz can SPY on this unknown Chat. Because while Fu trusts Ladybug, he still is wary of the second Chat Noir, this one he still doesn’t know. He knows who Adrien is, so he KNOWS he's an only child. The closest "sibling" he can see is Felix, who lives in London, no way he can get to Paris that fast. He also doesn’t suspect Chloé, because he's been taken in by her outward persona. But if Duchess Noire has Wayzz, then Fu can maybe figure her out. He knows the limitations of the Miraculous - if Duchess tells Wayzz "don’t tell anyone who I am", he won’t be able to tell Fu who she is. But he'll still have insight into how she works, what her morals are, if they can REALLY trust her. Plus, Fu knows Wayzz, they've been partners for CENTURIES. Fu knows not just how to fight with the Turtle, but how to fight against the Turtle. If this second Cat turns out to be bad news, the Turtle is the Miraculous Fu has the best chance against.

(Also, random sidenote: I discussed this with @princess-of-the-corner, cause she always makes the Tiger's thing Invisibility, and I was saying I'd sort of like it if the Tiger had both that AND Clout, so I think what we ended up with was the Tiger's thing is related to Confidence. High confidence, you get Clout, low confidence, you get Stealth. You CAN figure out how to access both, but it can take awhile. Cause, also, you know, a Tiger's whole THING is that it's camouflaged, invisible in its environment, until suddenly you get slammed with several pounds of muscle, teeth and claws.

Also, if you feel that Venom is too OP, I’d institute a time limit. Like, the five minutes you have until you detransform, that's how long Venom lasts? Something like that.

also-also, I see your Snake!Chloé, and raise you Snake!Nino. )

[livetogether--diealone]

trick or treat 💜💚

ask and you shall receive some sewis. i promise one day i will actually finish this thing i started back in june, so let's rewind until monaco 2023 -> ask game

“Are you going to pick that up?” Toto’s voice pulled him back from daydreaming about doing something to spice the day up so he would have to answer a million questions and have no time to keep thinking about a singular text message.  

“Mh?” Lewis glanced at his phone discarded next to his seat, the id caller read Seb. He instantly recoiled at the notion but moved to grab the phone anyway, and he slid it towards George “Throw it into the sea”. 

“George don’t throw it into the sea” Toto didn’t even look up from the stack of papers he was examining and with a really annoyed sigh he got up to answer the still ringing device to Lewis’ dismay. He slid the green icon and handed it to him, “I’m not playing intermediary between you and another blonde german ever again”. 

“You look good, not that I can really see from this distance, but I know you look good” was what awaited him on the other end of the line. Lewis’ mouth was dry, he prided himself in being good at speeches, in measuring his words, knowing what to say, being calm and collected, but not with him, maybe in the media he could craft something that didn’t sound so desperate and needy about Seb, drifting back on the racing and the support he always had for and from him. That was such different from having Seb clashing into him walking to the track, grabbing him in parc fermé, whispering encouragements, compliments, lame jokes, everything.   

It was lie that he couldn’t see how good Lewis looked, he did see how good he looked because George sent him a photo mere minutes before, Lewis looked like he’d rather throw himself out of the boat, but the see-through cream ensemble was good, the flower embroidery was good, the lines of Lewis’ body peeking through the lace were more than good. For a moment he felt self-conscious about his own rather simple clothes, but as George told him in not so many words he liked you when you were going around in plaid shorts and ill-fitting tshirts, he’ll like you forever now; Seb wasn’t sure how he ended up being reassured by George Russell, he knew because he told Charles he was coming to Monaco, the monegasque would have probably dropped dead if Seb decide to turn up without notice, then his best bet was that Charles told Pierre, who is a known gossip, who told Yuki, who told Alex who obviously told George, who was shameless enough to text him I though you two were fucking already why all the fuss about coming to a race Seb was only glad he said it outside of the shared chat with the rest of the grid. It all felt pretty stupid if he was thinking rationally, the clothes, being nervous about seeing Lewis, the hiding in the paddock, but he wasn’t and he hadn’t in a while.  

[catb-fics]

Haven't been here for months and now I'm back cause I heard that we've got a new SITUATION. Someone pls tell me the details cause I'm feeling so overwhelmed... I am literally LOST. What happened??? 😭

Hello my love hope you are okay ♥️

I’ll put this under a read more as it might be long!

Things have been a little crazy, like things were going so well with the comeback shows - well mostly, there were a few fans grumbling on about no communication from the band and the fact that they still hadn’t played Showtime but the shows were great. Van looked the happiest we’d ever seen him, there was great interaction between him and the other lads on stage. There were major sound issues with their guitars cutting out on stage at Reading (also happened to other artists) but Van handled it brilliantly by getting the crowd to sing, but mostly things were going pretty smoothly until the show they were due to play at Dublin on 31st August which was cancelled 10 minutes before doors opened. Apparently the band were there and soundchecked and it was last minute ‘doctors orders’ decision to cancel due to band member illness. Then several days later their Australian and US tours were both cancelled on the day of the first gig at Sydney. Fans went on a huge rant on socials saying all sorts of horrible stuff like saying Van was an addict with absolutely no evidence despite a message from the Australian promoter confirming band illness which is below. Nothing came directly from the band about the cancellations which would have probably put a stop to a lot of the vicious rumours and vile comments from angry fans, but it’s just come to light that the band and Eleven Management have parted ways very recently so that probably accounts for the silence from the official band accounts. It’s been horrible watching fans turn against them, especially since someone (likely Van) is most probably ill and it’s bad enough to cancel tours for the rest of the year 😭 We’re all just trying to stay positive on here and hope Van gets better and isn’t put off coming back after all the shit online, and the band get new management who are going to actually do their job properly like communicate with fans and smooth over any crap that occurs which is their bloody job 😬 So that’s it basically!

[feralkwe]

For the DT questions meme, 2, 12, and 18

i love how we nearly same-brained these questions. xoxo

under a cut for spoilers.

2. what was the first thing they did when they arrived in tuliyollal?

kit took a moment to stand on the shore and just absorb everything into her senses. the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun, the smell of the air, the color of the sky. she was charged with seeing as much of the world as she could, and it's something she takes very seriously. everything about this voyage held the promise of a new adventure, and she was determined not only to commit it to memory, but to pause in the moment and experience it in ways that previous adventures had not allowed for. it marked what she needed and wanted to be a new chapter of life, and she paused to ground herself in that before taking steps forward.

12. what was their opinion of the culture of recycling souls and the use of regulators? did this change as the story progressed?

much like aubrey, she was utterly and wholly horrified. that very much did not change. given all of the loved ones--friends, mentors, lovers--whose souls have returned to the aetherial sea, she could not find any way to be okay with the idea of denying that rest and renewal of life to them. to the very depths of who she is it felt wrong and tragic in a way that made her physically ill. the more she thought about it the more angry she became and the more determined that it had to stop. not only that, but the removal of those souls from the memories of their loved ones terrified and devastated her. being able to remember those loved ones is a responsibility that, sure, comes with pain, but is a privilege to her as well. the charge to remember is what she considers perhaps her most important duty, and one she will see fulfilled in the names of those who carried it before her. there is no world where she would be able to accept it.

18. what important relationships changed or developed throughout dawntrail?

i knew before i read them all you'd pick this one for kit lol. obviously her relationship with thancred and urianger changed. ew ended with things uncertain for them, and dt offered a new opportunity to remember what drew them together in the first place while offering the fun of a friendly rivalry that was oddly healing. it also added another... shall we say element that i am still figuring out much to my own outrage. why do they keep doing this to me? some days i miss the simplicity that was just kit and urianger lol.

kit also always liked erenville, but they really had a chance to develop a friendship through dawntrail. getting to go on a journey with him alone was an incredible experience for her and she's come to care for him deeply. he quickly and easily elevated himself to a place where he is cherished by her.

most interesting to me is the way she was able to finally start the process of healing the rift between herself and g'raha. because my timeline for her has stb/shb/ew all happening one on top of the other, she's not really had the chance to address her harsh, ugly, and slightly unfair feelings toward him. where she'd cooled to indifference to his presence, there was finally a moment where she was able approach the pain. you know the one. she's known for a while that she was being too hard on him, and that he deserves her grace at least as much as emet-selch or elidibus did, but has been resistant to actually taking the steps to change that. i'm actually relieved, and look forward to digging into how that all played out.

also, the mentor/mentee relationship she's built with wuk lamat is something which has been very good for her. it's much different to the one she has with alisaie in ways i'm too tired to try and parse out right now, but probably relates to the hot girl warrior fun times they had. it was something which delighted me throughout the msq.

thanks for the asks! i had such a fun time with dawntrail and will take any opportunity to chatter about it!

[primeministerofantarctica]

A3! reading club: prologue

Starting off with a prolepsis is a nice technique, although I think it's interesting that only Harugumi gets spotlighted here. Probably to avoid spoilers from later troupes.... Either way, I love how Sakuya's observations serve as an introduction to the other members. Masumi's cool-headed, Tsuzuru won't rest until his scripts are perfect, Itaru's anxious about pulling this off successfully (he does care :')), and Citron's a man of mystery.

I never really thought about this before, but I like that the prologue establishes that Izumi has the experience and knowledge necessary to qualify as a theater director. She's not just diving in headfirst with no idea what she's doing.

Also, this whole "street act" thing sends me every time it's mentioned. Veludo Way has to be a tourist destination, surely Izumi's not the first person to freak out over someone faking an illness. You know those horror stories about comedians dying of heart attacks on-stage bc the audience thought they were doing A Bit; this seems like a disaster waiting to happen. What if you got into an argument with someone and a bunch of strangers started clapping.

At least Tasuku's nice enough to come over and make sure Izumi's alright. He's not going to be really relevant for a good long while, but we're already establishing that he does care about other people, despite Godza's "every man for himself" culture.

Oh, Tsuzuru, just be glad you're not a college student in the US. >_>

Sakyo, you JUST recognized the first and only person you had a crush on, the daughter of Yukio himself, and you're telling her to get lost? Why? Are you trying to save Izumi from the heartbreak of caring about something futile? Because if so, you absolutely suck at it.

Izumi's reactions are the best. Also, shout-out to Sakai-san for being able to pull off "bad at acting" without dissolving into the 100% flat monotone typical when actors try to play bad actors. You can tell Sakuya's trying, but his pauses are placed just randomly enough to be awkward. From an acting standpoint, that's got to be incredibly hard to pull off.

This makes me wince. In retrospect, it's so obvious how much Sakyo cares about this theater. He was willing to pause the demolition project for the absolutely miniscule chance that Matsukawa had somehow, miraculously, secured a bestselling performance. Of course he hasn't, but the fact that Sakyo was still willing to give him one more chance speaks volumes.

Unfortunately, he's also a realist, and he's right. People love touting "hard work" as the only thing an artist needs to succeed, but without money, most people simply don't have the financial stability to really dedicate themselves to their craft. It's harsh, it sucks, and it's unfair, but it's also true. I don't remember if we get Sakyo's backstory in the main story or a later event, but going off it it makes sense that this is the additude he's adopted.

This hits harder after finding out Sakuya basically ran away from home :(. Not like he couldn't go back to his aunt and uncle, but that's got to be crushing.

I love how Izumi is mentally pspspsing Matsukawa SO HARD to back her up, just like he did with her earlier. There is a single braincell ping-ponging between these two and Sakyo's just watching this trainwreck.

Sakuya's reaction to Matsukawa saying he cooks all the food is gold. Ofc he's too polite to say it outright, but the fact that even Sakuya feels the need to warn Izumi about Matsukawa's culinary skills is just. So funny.

Speaking of which, I think it's interesting how Sakuya's (known optimist and sunshine child) first reaction to realizing Izumi was lying is a despondent "Does that mean the troupe is going under after all?" He immediately cheers up and snatches the smidge of hope offered to him, but this little piece of character writing goes a long way in setting up his hopefulness as something that isn't based on naivety.

I'm running out of screenshots and too far in to consider making another post, but gosh. Masumi, I love you, but you are making it REALLY easy to remember why I didn't at first. I will concede that his blushing and not being able to look Izumi in the eyes is cute, though. If there was more of that and less of...this, I might have warmed up to him a lot earlier.

Also, Tsuzuru agreeing to join after finding out there's free food is an absolute Mood. Five minutes of screen time and he's already a voice for college students everywhere.

The last few minutes are pretty much what we'd expect - Tsuzuru (very conveniently) says he's a scriptwriter, Izumi eagerly accepts the free labor before he can join a union (I'm joking, I'm joking.), they run back to the theater and Sakyo says he'll give them one more chance. The conditions won't be revealed until the next chapter, but it really is a testament to Sakyo's love for Mankai just how lenient he's being. A month might be cutting it pretty close when prepping for a play, but Sakyo's a debt broker in the freaking Yakuza, and almost definitely acting as a middleman between this company and someone higher up. Ofc the Yakuza here are a lot more lighthearted than the ones in real life, but that's still got to be incredibly risky.

[istherewifiinhell]

1, 12, 18 for rottnmt? 🥺

THANK U BESTIE. giving so many fun things to think about while im at work ahahah.

1. the character everyone gets wrong

I will say i blame no one its basically a non issue but i do find evil au draxums very funny. Like! he little is a villian he DID want to destory humanity he does have a villain music number. all true. also his turning sides is s2 so. BUT ANYWAY. very funny to have him be like. evil maybe abusive dad type in aus. im sorry the guy who using 2 tiny incompetent gargoyles as henchmen/paldrons... he lets em sleep in the little dog bed..... 🥺. Hes a cartoon villian but hes got offers dental typa guy... imho.

Also personal i think these a tendacy to lean donnies personality too far in any direction. why nerf his autism swag like that... he drinks flavourless juice AND invented the messiest nasty looking sandwich ever. sometimes he does not like touch sometimes he throws his dad into the air to hug him. he has LAYERS.

LAST THING. my bro said to mention gay coded leo cause "im homophobic". jhgfdb. I just didnt read him as particularly more queer coded than his brothers.... theyre ALL a little flamboyant okaayyyyyyy. turtles are lgbtq (what all at once? yes.)

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

are there unpopular characters in rise kinda feel... not really. ILL SAY. Casey senior just cause she kinda takes the back seat after movie with casey jr..... do yall understand how many fake outs she was.... you could think shes karai due to being in the foot clan or maybe think shed get mutated into mona lisa (her voice actress played the one in 12!).

BUT NAW! angry bruser, sporty, vigilanty CASEY JONES. I love her..... also that she joins the squad cause SPLINTER. was like. oh a troubled youth... they need guidance. extremely cute. 90s movie splinter moment. based. thing we were robbed of #587. Rise casey and raph BREAKING SHIT together. as fweinds....

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

i really like thinking about the arcs we didnt get to see in unfinshed rest of season 2 and 3.... there was gonna be more mystic stuff, the family actually getting along with draxum more naturally.... GIRL TURTLES (<- dissolves into goo).

i wanna think about it. i wanna think about the raph leo becoming co leaders thing.... the showwww so so so primed for them working together and not having a direct hiercharly system fits cause this is the iteration they designed to be more like a typical family. that why splinter had a career that is not. ninja master. lol, thats why they are different ages (sorry to any quadruplets out there). and after the ages where the childhood developmental stages that are gonna favour the eldest sibling. Most siblings do not have one leader they have to listen to abt shit. [That aint a diss on how other iterations are its just a different essay lol...]

as for something that actually ended up IN the show... fav fav moment makes me cry when every i rewatch or even THINK ABOUT IT. The moment that lets Splinter reconcile the pain that the Hamato clan brought him, with the legacy, intention, and love, it was created with.

Under cut cause its some of the very last stuff that happened in the show.

The moment when Splinter's mom, (had to check ->), Atsuko shows up with the rest of the Hamato ancestors. she puts her hands next to splinter and she looks at him so so fondly and she repeats HIS action movie catch phrase. and THATS the moment Splinter, Hamato Yoshi can like. come to peace about the clans legacy.... Perfect culmination of his arc....

like it PROVES. his whole life the legacy of this clan was what was taking his family AWAY. his mom, probably his grandpa? he was suppose to let his sons GET MARTYRED. he left his family, as they had left him. but as they say anata wa hitori janai.... his mom still saw!!! HIS LIFE. his movies. Sees him as he grew, as a mutant, and the love between family is literally magic that keeps them together. THATS what Karai wanted it to be..... I jsut think we should talk about and the sad rat man healing from generation trauma. MAYBE. Cause he loves his mommy. [finally. A splinter with MOMMY ISSUES/BRICKED]

[miya2006]

Weird family, but it works. And I love them!

The heat was bad, it felt as if they were filming on the sun and the stage lights definitely weren't helping the case. Boyd has been feeling ill the past couple of days but hasn't had any symptoms. Not even towards Covid, he is just sick and tired. 

The days on set felt longer and longer, and the weird glances from his co-workers grew by the hour. It wasn’t like Boyd to stumble over his lines or his own feet. He could see, compared to when he was in The sandman. He couldn’t see with the glasses of the Corinthian but now he can. 

People have asked him if everything is okay, but he always says yes. He doesn't need anyone to worry, he doesn’t want anyone to worry. Worry means that people would actually care and look after him. 

He doesn’t want to waste anyone’s time or energy. He is 41 years old, he should be able to take care of himself right?

Well turns out he can’t, not until it becomes painfully aware just how sick he is. It was a normal day at set and Boyd still felt as bad as before. He was dizzy, nauseous and felt like his entire body was just some lump of exhaustion. He tried to keep everything under wraps but it didn’t last long. Timothy must have sensed something was wrong so he had cornered Boyd in his trailer, his worry over Boyd becoming too much.

He had noticed what the others probably hadn’t. He has seen the slight shiver Boyd had, and it hadn’t gone away even after Boyd got some warm clothes to wear. Timothy likes Boyd, he is a great actor and Timothy is over the moon that they got Boyd to play Clement.

He walked into Boyd’s trailer without warning, more chance of Boyd not being able to hide it again. Timothy has tried a couple of times to talk to Boyd but everytime he always denies anything is wrong and just smiles at him and tells him not to worry. This time he won’t be able to.

He walked in and noticed Boyd on the couch, his head in his hands and a bucket by his side. He could see a slight shake in his body as if he was cold. Boyd jumped when the door suddenly closed with a bang, looking up at Timothy with a confused look.

“You okay, Boydo?” He asked, he knew the answer but he had decided to give Boyd one chance before he put his foot down and told Boyd to just let them in a bit or he might get worse in terms of sickness and his general mental health. 

Timothy always sees mental health as something important to talk about, and he didn’t need to spend a long time with Boyd to see that there was something hiding between the surface. Something many wouldn’t see unless they had experienced bad mental health themselves. And he had a suspicion that Boyd had pushed himself too hard and his body became sick from the lack of rest.

“Not really..” Timothy walked over and felt Boyd’s forehead, noticing the small amount of throw up in the bucket as well.

“You’re burning up, Kiddo.” He said as he ran his fingers through Boyd’s hair. Making a last minute decision he texted Vivian and asked if she could bring his backpack from his trailer.

“Alright, so here’s what we are going to do. You sit here and relax for a bit while I pick up some of your stuff and then we will meet up with Vivian and go home. You will be joining me and Vivian at our place, my wife and other kids are not here right now so the house will be quiet and calm.” He said, Boyd understood by the stern voice that he didn’t really have much room to protest. Not that he would anyways, he can’t really help but look at  Timothy as a brother figure but in times like these where he takes care of Boyd, he goes from brother to father. 

“Ok” Came the small voice from the couch. Seeing and hearing how bad Boyd was feeling he hurried with picking up some stuff from the little wardrobe as well as the book he had seen Boyd reading earlier this week. As well as some toiletries like his toothbrush if he felt strong enough at some point to brush his teeth. 

Once finished he walked over to Boyd and put his arm around his waist in case he wasn’t steady enough to stand on his own. Together they slowly walked outside the trailer and met with Vivian. She took one single look at Boyd before she fondly but concerned shook her head a bit before flanking him between her and her father as they walked to the car. 

Timothy got in the front seat, though he did so after a small argument over who was going to sit in the back with Boyd. Neither wanting him to sit alone in the back but neither of them wanting to leave his side if anything were to happen.

Vivian didn’t mind, she had talked to her father about her worries over Boyd in the last couple of days. Even if Timothy hadn’t gone into his trailer, she would find a way to get Boyd with them anyways. She likes Boyd, he doesn’t act like she only got the part because of her dad. He is like her brother, he teases her and messes up her hair and makes her laugh when there is nothing for her to do on set so she won’t get bored.

They lived about a 20 minute drive away from the set, and Vivian could feel her worry build more and more when she saw how the traffic was getting heavy. Lucky for them it seems the traffic came behind them rather in front of them.

Boyd leaned his head on Vivian’s shoulder, too tired to hold his head up. Making a rash decision she took out Boyd’s seatbelt and moved him so he could lay down a bit. With his head in her lap, she started to run her hands through his hair, hoping it would bring him some comfort. 

Despite the pain in his head, Boyd opened his eyes slightly and smiled up at her. No word said, just an understanding look meeting a thankful one. Timothy smiled to himself when he looked in the rearview mirror and noticed what Vivian had decided.

With the feeling of her fingers running through his hair, it didn’t take Boyd long before he fell asleep. And not long before they arrived at their house either. Neither wanted to wake Boyd, he looked peaceful for once. The past couple of weeks he has seemed bothered by something as well as restless. Never seeming to be able to keep still in one place. 

A lot of people on set were worried, all of them could see something wasn’t right. But no one dared to confront him about it, unsure of how he would react. Timothy couldn’t help but think about how far it could have gone if he hadn’t lost his patience. 

He is undoubtedly happy he lost his patience when he did. He does not for the life of him want to think about what would have happened if he hadn’t. How sick could Boyd have gotten? Would he be able to get home safe? Or would he be able to get home at all?

Shaking his head, he stood up and opened the door on the other side of Vivian. Leaning over to pick Boyd up bridal style and making sure he was able to rest his head in Timothy’s neck rather than leaning it backwards with no support.

Vivian ran ahead to open the door downstairs before continuing into the guest bedroom closest to them and found some blankets before laying them out on the couch.

Timothy placed Boyd down while Vivian went to get the bags from the car. 

He looked down at Boyd, suddenly being hit with what they had missed for days. The dark circles under his eyes, the almost constant frown when he thought people weren’t looking. He ran his hand through Boyd’s slightly sweaty hair when it fell down in his face. 

Timothy is fully aware of what Boyd look at him. Like he is a family member, a brother or sometimes - like now- a father. And Timothy finds that he does not mind. Not one bit. 

Vivian walked up to her room after a little while of them sitting in silence once she was back. Timothy didn’t leave, he didn’t want Boyd to wake up alone in a place he hadn’t even been in before.

The outside grew darker and he grew hungry. Texting Vivian to come down to keep an eye on Boyd, when she had sat down he nodded to himself and went ahead with some dinner. Figuring Boyd probably wouldn’t feel up to much he made some basic pasta with vegetables. A standard favorite and expectation whenever someone in the house got sick.

When he walked back out with the food he couldn’t help but smile. Boyd has woken up and is hugging Vivian while she is rubbing his back and hugging back just as tight as he does.

He placed the food down and gave the kids each their bowl. Before turning on the tv on low volume. Once they had eaten, he checked Boyd’s forehead again. Luckily almost no fever, his sweating had gone away yet the shaking was still there. 

Together they moved Boyd up into the room closest to the master bedroom so Timothy could keep an eye on him in case something happens. 

And it did come in handy, in the middle of the night Timothy sat upright in bed in a matter of seconds. His brain took a second to figure out what was going on, once he understood he launched himself out of bed and ran into the room Boyd was occupying, Vivian right behind him. 

The screaming died down and crying filled the room, and he pulled a bit on Boyd so he was leaning into his chest and holding him close he gently rocked him.

“It’s okay, let it out. It’s okay, darling.” He whispered into the darkness, his eyes scanning the room trying to find Vivian. Almost as if she had read his thoughts she had stood up; 

“I’m going downstairs to get him some water. I’ll come into your room with it.” She said before taking her leave. Slowly Boyd made a clear movement and a little nudge at Timothy. 

Together they stood up slowly, Boyd taking some shaky steps as they walked across the hall. Getting under the covers, Boyd hid his face in Timothy’s chest. Vivian came in as well and climbed in on the other side of Boyd leaning her head on his arm.

Silence overtook the room as he drank a bit of the water. Timothy sent him a small comforting look, not pushing but concerned about what just happened in the room not even 5 meters away from where they are now. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Timothy asked, his mind jumping from idea to idea over what it could be. 

“It was about David..” Just that sentence alone made Timothy’s heart break. He knew how close they were, he has listened to several stories about him and he has seen how many times he has worked with Boyd. And he has always had a suspicion that David views Boyd the same way he does. 

Vivan must have felt somewhat the same, as she cuddled closer before kissing Boyd on the forehead. 

“I’ll leave you two for the night. "Sleep well.” She said, sending a glance over to Timothy. Wanting to check that he would be alright, giving her a nod, she smiled and took her leave for the night.  

Timothy didn’t know what to say, or if he even knew what the right thing to say is. So he pulled Boyd closer and whispered;

“It’s okay. You lost someone very dear to you. It’s normal even though it has been many years since. You’re still human, Boyd. And if you have another nightmare tonight, I’ll be here. So get comfortable because you wont leave this room and be on your own after this.” Timothy counted it as a victory when Boyd smiled. 

“I don’t feel that sick anymore. No need to throw up, just a small headache.” 

“That’s good, I think you slept off most of it and the food certainly helped. This role of yours for the new project seems to take more of a toll on you than you realize.” He said, but they both knew that a conversation like that would be happening soon enough.

“Yeah..” Was all Boyd said before silence overtook yet again. Timothy kept up the movement of running his fingers through Boyd’s hair and it didn’t take long before he could feel Boyd’s breathing slowing down before it evened out and his body relaxed. 

TImothy pulled him closer before succumbing to the sleepiness as well.

The rest of the night went without incident, both the resident of the room slept safe and sound as did the one resident a bit further down the hall.

Can be found on AO3 as well: https://archiveofourown.org/works/51200383

[springtrappd]

not trying to sound rude or aggressive or anything i swear, but what exactly Is it abt like. eclipse and ruin in general that you have critiques of? i'm still trying to figure out exactly what i think of it myself - it wasn't ANYTHING like what i was expecting, and to be perfectly honest i was also one of the Book Doubters(trademark pending) so that was a huge culture shock to me as well. idk i go in-between being really impressed and really liking it, to being salty that it wasn't what I think a good chunk of ppl including myself were expecting? looks like there's gonna be more down the line as far as this SB storyline goes so i'm curious and cautiously optimistic. i'm not totally sold on the mimic yet but thats probably bc I haven't been reading the tales books. guess i should start now lmao

i should make it clear that i actually haven't finished ruin yet, which is why i've been holding back on talking about it -- i'm up to bonnie bowl! so i'll refrain from commenting on that, except to say that the gameplay is a massive improvement from sb and only has more minor design flaws vs the base game's... fundamentally broken, lmao. they listened to criticism, refined their ideas and executed them with the resources available, and they did it well! i have mostly positive things to say on that front, which is nice. :)

eclipse is harder to talk about because... like, to give you an idea of how badly it effected me: it pissed me off so bad i started dissociating for the rest of the night, gave me stress stomach-aches when I refused to stop playing and then woke me up at 6am this morning nauseous and in pain. and that's not me being a wimp, that's me experiencing somatization, which is a real thing that i struggle with a lot, so hopefully you can understand why I'm not exactly keen to talk about this? especially when literally every time i even try to someone gets mad at me for breathing. please keep this in mind as i go on to say: eclipse is ableist as fuck and completely inexcusable.

as presented within ruin's visit to the daycare, the dca is left in a state of disrepair after the earthquake and subsequent abandonment left the pizzaplex to fend for itself. they're trapped between their two personalities, with both of them insisting that they are the one who knows what they should do; sun wants to be a good boy and do arts and crafts and whatever, and moon wants to send everyone to bed, blah blah you know the drill. as you complete the segment sun and moon regularly argue with each other, with sun holding the upset moon back from attacking cassie as she reactivates the generators, turning the lights on and stunning moon long enough for her to whack him with the faz-wrench, forcing a system reboot... and he's immediately reborn as eclipse, a lovely and kind figure with no memories of anything that happened who gently escorts you out and wishes you well. he's fixed now, you see! you did it! you got rid of his evil split personality, you've made him normal again, and without the aberration that is plurality he has not a cruel bone in his body!

the implications of this are incredibly fucking obvious and deeply deeply upsetting, and why i'm gonna point-blank say i'm not entertaining further discourse over whether this is reaaaally ableist or if they reaaaaally meant for them to read as a system or... nope, it's done, we're not fucking going there. it doesn't matter what they intended -- what they intended is pretty obvious, actually; they've decided to tackle a subject they're incredibly ill-equipped to handle, and the result is a character -- descended from the visual language and cultural canon of tales like split and psycho -- whose arc concludes with the reveal that it was being a system that made them violent. and the boss fight was dumb and bad and ignored all the previously-explained mechanics of this character to do this. it is aggressively stupid fanservice that turns what was once simply "poor taste walking the line of good faith" into "actual offensive caricature with zero room for doubt", and the only thing more despair-inducing than this twist is the community of people gleefully eating it up as their yummy angst fuel for their ultimate comfort character. and i shouldn't be surprised, considering it's coming from the "how dare you ask me to examine why i find it scary when the dca experiences altered identity states" crowd, but i am, unfortunately, an idealist doomed to be let down by normies. huzzah.

as for the mimic: I'm perfectly fine with afton getting laid to rest (he deserves it!), I'm not one of those guys, but in its current iteration (and from my understanding of it) it suffers immensely from having literally zero reason to be doing any of this shit and being yet another rejection of the supernatural in favour of sci-fi bullshit. because it's from the novels and the novels are allergic to ghosts. and having your entire story drip-fed in mediocre spin-off novels filled with blatant fetish content marketed to naive twelvies is so obviously bad storytelling that i don't even think i need to get into the piss-poor prose and legitimately cruel messages to explain why i hate that one

[xhatake]

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation? 💯 What is my muse’s ideal date?🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

🌟 What is my muse’s sexual/romantic orientation?

kakashi is bisexual/biromantic but has always had an inclination towards men! It's something he's always struggled to understand. Understanding orientation has been a very strange think for him; he's always felt he has to like men or like women. not even counting anyone who lays in between those definition. it's not until his late 20's that he understands that's not the case --- he can like any gender to any degree. i think when he becomes more comfortable with his gender identity/expressing it he comes to the same conclusion about his orientation.

💯 What is my muse’s ideal date

kakashi's ideal date would probably either be a night in or a picnic outside of konoha. If it were to be a night in he would likely prefer to stay at his house, he's generally more comfortable there. he would want to cook some sort of meal revolving around his s/o's favorite food. Kakashi is definitely the sort of guy that would go over the top as well. I'm talking candlelight, roses, he scoots the chair out for his date, etc. A lot of his ideas of romance come from the media he's consumed & so he would probably be very stereotypical. He would want to spend the rest of the night catching up, reading with them, playing games, maybe getting frisky & just generally getting a little bit of one on one time with them.

alternatively, he would love to go on a picnic. i have a headcanon that he buys a lot of bento boxes. he see's one with a neat design? he's gotta have it. He uses them largely to bring meals from himself & his team when they're training but really jumps at any other chance he may have to use them. He would probably have already bought one that reminded him of the other person & would probably jam it full of food ( maybe with a bottle of liquor --- sake makes him sleepy so maybe gin? ) The two of them would find a spot uphill of a stream so they wouldn't be bothered by the bugs but could still enjoy the sound of rushing water. They eat, they laugh, they spend time with each other. maybe they even dip their toes in a stream & feel all the weight of the world wash away with the water

either way he's most interested in just spending time with his love interest in a quiet, secluded setting. he goes a little over the top with the stereotypical romantic aspects because he feels like he has to compensate for being hard to read? plus it just makes him happy.

🍬 Is my muse a sub, dom, or switch?

Kakashi is a big switch. If we're talking about casual sex with someone he doesn't know that well, he's more apt to be dominant. He doesn't like the vulnerability of submitting to someone he doesn't necessarily trust? He's prone to one-night stands because he doesn't really know how to get emotional or how to bring emotions into the picture. It leaves him feeling defensive when someone is a one & go. when it comes to friends with benefits he's a little more apt to gt experimental.

When he finds a more consistent partner he's more eager to adapt to their needs. Kakashi likes to get experimental, he likes to talk to his partner about what they want so he has an understanding of what to do?? He does tend to feed a more submissive streak when he's with someone he trusts. This stems from the fact that he very rarely is with someone he feels he can be that way with, if that makes sense? He likes the intimacy of trusting someone enough to follow their lead.

also, if we're talking specifically about kink he is still a switch but he likes to discuss anything he's going to or be do in-depth with his partner beforehand. Whether he's the sub or the dom for the night, he likes to know where they're going; partaking in kink without having express lines & boundaries drawn makes him feel physically ill. I think he used to be very chaotic in his hookups & he was experimental in ways that weren't always safe. He didn't understand the depth of kink but he was interested in it & met a couple of bad doms along the way that left him with the aforementioned defensiveness.

[hammerbacks]

for the ask meme thingy

1, 3, 7, 12,16 ,21, 28, 34, 36, 40

✨✨

thank you aj!! 🥰

1. what would you say are 3 things that shaped who you are? ooh that's a tricky one!! unfortunately, being ill and then getting better between 2016 and 2018 was the biggest one.. i'm not usually particularly open about it all on here but i had anorexia during my first year of teaching and it changed a lot about me? treatment/recovery from that did lead to some good things though, as i completely lost my love of reading for a while and my now fiancé suggesting to me that i try non-fiction when i was starting to get better led to me finding a subject that i loved so much that i ended up doing my masters in it! i've had a couple of wobbles even after finishing treatment, but i'm getting there with accepting that there are some parts of it that never go away and knowing how i can keep going despite those ☺️

3. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and never get bored of? i know that i already answered this one but there are still more that i enjoy that much that i could watch them over and over! pretty woman, pride and prejudice, and

7. what scares you the most and why? death/dying i think? i'm a firm atheist, so the thought that you're here and then one day, suddenly that's it is pretty terrifying!

12. what's some good advice that you want to share? i can't remember the exact wording of the post, but there was something on here i reblogged the other day that basically says that you will sometimes fall into pits as far as mental health is concerned/that recovery is in no way linear, but you will come out of it and it's absolutely okay if those setbacks happen because there will always be a light at the end of the tunnel to reach for! that one really resonates with me for a lot of reasons 😄

16. if you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be? maybe my legs would be a couple of inches shorter, i think? i'm 5'8", but my legs are long enough that it makes shopping for trousers/skirts/dresses etc difficult because they're always shorter on me than a lot of other people i know 😂

21. are you a spiritual person? as much as i'd love to be, i'm too logically brained for that.. i do find the reasoning behind why people believe in those sorts of things fascinating though!

28. do you collect anything? music! i have a lot of cds, and have got into collecting and playing vinyl now that i've got a record player! i had a CD player in my old car but my current one doesn't, which i'm still gutted about to be honest 😩

34. any pet peeves? people who don't use their indicators when driving!! especially when someone only puts theirs on as they get to a roundabout i'm about to pull out onto, that makes me really mad 😂

36. are you an open book or do you have walls up? i'm not sure, i'm probably a bit of a contradiction here because i'm definitely one of those people who tells everyone when something silly is eating away at me, but at the same time i'm awful at asking for help when it's something important that i'm struggling with?

40. any bad habits? swearing too much! i have such a potty mouth outside of the classroom, and being on here has probably encouraged it i think 🙈

QUESTIONS I THINK WOULD BE FUN TO BE ASKED

[taliesin-the-bored]

It was a musical, but...I am not beating the allegations.

I shall take this as an opportunity to ramble about Rómeó és Júlia, the subject of said allegations by @unstark, who may have created a monster (/j; thank you for doing so).

The first thing to know is that I haven't read Romeo and Juliet since middle school and liked it well enough then but wasn't really enthused because I liked the poetic elements but found the romance somewhat grating. However, I am a theater kid/opera nerd at heart, and looking at different versions of things and analyzing the connections, sometimes to an obsessive degree, is one of the things I live for (that's part of the lure of Arthuriana).

The second is that Rómeó és Júlia (ResJ) is fantastic, in large part because the cast is incredibly talented. I've seen all or a good portion of several different language versions of the musical, which originated in France as Roméo et Juliette (RetJ), and they all have good or decent but reasonably similar Juliets and mostly fine to mediocre Romeos. In addition to having a good Juliet, this Romeo, played by Dolhai Attila, was quite charming as an actor as well as a great singer so the rest have been mostly downhill. I am afraid, though, that like most of the people on ResJ/RetJ Tumblr, the characters I found most interesting were Mercutio and Tybalt, who both vary wildly from production to production. In ResJ, Mercutio (who fans call Zolicutio because he's played by Zoltán Bereczki) is a force of nature, and I did not properly appreciate that the first time I watched it. He sings, dances almost constantly, acts well, and raps in Magyar, and he never seems to stop or slack in energy until he dies. Tybalt, on the other hand, is a deeply tortured soul who's occasionally comedic in his melodrama (he does the Mr. Bean walk once) but has genuine pathos. I originally watched the first half without subtitles and did not realize the...ahem...concerning nature of his thoughts about Juliet, but that's in almost every version of the musical, and it is not as big a trigger warning as the obvious one, which is that Romeo and Juliet includes onstage suicide and murder, as well as references to sexual content. This is probably the first thing anyone learns about Romeo and Juliet, but I thought I should put that out there to be safe. Anyway, Szilveszter Szabó was vastly different than how I pictured Tybalt while reading the play, but he was excellent and brought a new perspective to the character. You love to see it. Also, ResJ Benvolio is a punk with the heart of a golden retriever, another far-from-the-play take which works in its context.

Now, the 2010 French version. I followed ResJ with the RetJ revival because John Eyzen's Mercutio is the second most popular Mercutio on Tumblr, after the inimitable Zolicutio, and I wanted to see what the hype was about. He is vastly, vastly different, both from how I imagined Mercutio and how Mercutio is in any other production. Eycutio alternates between stillness and over-the-top energy. He may or may not be bad mental illness rep. He may or may not be beholden to the madness-inducing entities of Chaos. Eyzen fully embraced the vibes of "La Follie" and the Queen Mab speech Mercutio has in Shakespeare to create a very unstable dude who revels in unpredictability and danger to a greater degree than Zolicutio and has probably won Best-Haired Veronese Man three years in a row. He has a love/hate relationship with Tybalt and flirts with him while fighting. (Zolicutio also flirts with Tybalt, but less in a I've-secretly-liked-you-since-we-were-twelve-but-also-hate-you-and-we-kissed-at-a-party-once-but-you-pretend-you-don't-remember-and-I'm-going-to-make-that-hard-for-you way than an I-bet-you're-into-me-and-also-that-you'll-hate-this-and-I-could-be-into-you-but-it's-not-clear-and-I-canonically-kissed-Romeo-but-didn't-seem-serious-about-it-and-I-rap-about-not-liking-romance-and-it-might-be-to-hide/drown/prevent-the-pain-or-I-might-be-aroallo-and-thriving way). Tim Ross's 2nd Tybalt looks and acts like the unlikely and maltreated test-tube child of George Michael and Cruella de Vil, and I'm going to leave it about that, because I have rambled too long without mentioning that Romeo's costume is exceptionally terrible in this one, that I really did not like Escalus, and that the Nurse was fantastic. All in all, what this one has to recommend it is the excellent Nurse, plus Tybalt and Mercutio's unevenly acted but ultimately interesting dynamic, which is the stuff of Fanlore pages.

I have not watched all of the 2001 French original, even though many people say Cécilia Cara is the best Juliet, because the other Juliets are also good and apparently a bald Mercutio is one thing I cannot take. (I could under certain conditions. If he were a young cancer patient, then that would add an urgency to his fervor for living life to the fullest, and a suspicion that he's going to die painfully soon whatever he does could influence his recklessness, but him being considerably older and more sophisticated than Romeo is weird). I might watch more of it, but it's low priority.

Apart from those, I've watched large parts of the Italian and Israeli ones, which I prefer to the French ones in acting but not in singing. The Italian one is a lot more dramatic than the Israeli one, which is maybe the least dramatic RetJ variant ever but pulls it off really well. The characters seem like normal people you would meet who try their best but get caught up in a tragedy bigger than they can understand. Of special note, as usual, is that ever-shifting scene, the duel between Mercutio and Tybalt, and this is the most original take on it I've seen. What sets it apart is that THEY DON'T EVEN DISLIKE EACH OTHER. You get the sense that they've had a lighthearted rivalry since they were kids but they're sort of friends and it's all a game to them. It's also the only version I've seen where those two actually have fencing swords, so the fight looks more realistic, emphasizing that they're playing with fire. When he realizes Mercutio is dying, Tybalt is visibly devastated and seems to lose the will to live. I don't usually cry at movies or shows, but that is the version which brought me the closest to crying.

I would like to watch the 2019 Toho version, since it comes highly recommended, but am not sure where to and might have to wait a while on that one. After I'm done with the Italian one, I intend to watch the Russian one, the German one, and the alternate cast recording of the Hungarian one. As for the English one...well, I've listened to a bit of it, and it was awful.

If you want to watch multiple versions at once or see which ones you might like, there is a great playlist on YouTube where someone edited together parts of the videos of different versions. If you want an incoherent-without-watching-the-full-thing but possibly still entertaining look into it, watch this compilation someone made, which is extremely funny if you've actually seen the full musical.

If you've read this entire semi-coherent ramble, you're a trooper. I hope it was vaguely interesting. Have a wonderful day!

it’s really easy to become obsessed with a shakespeare play you just have to watch one version of it and then read the play and then go mad trying to watch every possible version of it you can find and then study several centuries worth of performance history and controversy