#its entirely fictional. its my own imagination that's hurting me

[natjennie]

i have imagining my blorbos set to songs disease. it's terminal and unbearable.

[dedalvs]

When will humankind learn the lesson of its hubris and begin to heal itself? Also can you recommend any undergraduate or graduate level resources (textbooks etc.) for learning about fiction? I already read Writing Fiction by Burroway. Thanks in advance

January 14, 3182. Make a note of the date and return to this post when it comes.

To your second question, I've never read anything on writing fiction, only writing in general. I've found something valuable in every book on writing, even if there were things in the book I found less valuable. For example, I read Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within by Natalie Goldberg, and while there was much of it I didn't care for, there are some passags that have stuck with me 22 years later. When it comes to writing guides, I think the best thing to do is read what interests you while understand that what you are really doing is building your own writing guide inside you. You're absorbing what you find personally meaningful and using it to create your own personal styleguide that, like it or not, you'll be following for the rest of your life. Rather than rejecting that, and trying to decide which text will be the text that tells you how to write, embrace it, realize that you are going to do what you're going to do, and then try to work within that framework. That is, if that's what's happening, how will you approach a styleguide? What will it mean to you to read a very didactic text (i.e. "All serious writers must do x; no serious writer every does y") vs. a loosey-goosey one (e.g. "Dance naked in the garden of your creativity and allow your flowers to bloom!")? What are you looking for in these texts and what will you do with information or strategies that you find valuable?

Returning to Writing Down the Bones, I have to say I found the book to be mostly woo. It was more a kind of self-help/empowerment book than a book on writing, in my opinion. But there is something in there that I'm sure I'd heard before but which finally resonated with me. Specifically, it was the way she articulated that it really, truly doesn't matter what you put on the page when you're drafting. Drafting is not the time to reject. Even some idea comes to you that you find absurd, illogical, thematically inappropriate—whatever. It's not the time to push it away. Indeed, it's wasted effort. Editing and revising is the time to question. If you're writing, you shouldn't let anything stop you—even your own brain.

Why it took till then for this idea to take root, I don't know. It could be how she worded it. It could be that it came at the right time. Perhaps I was more open to new ideas when I was reading this book. It may also have something to do with a transition that had taken place for me in writing. After all, when I started high school, I was not regularly using a computer (we'd only just gotten a computer that stayed at home). When I started writing, I wrote by hand—on paper. It's a much, much different thing to edit and revise when you're writing on paper than it is on when you're working on a computer! I mean, digital real estate is cheap. When you're writing by hand, it can literally hurt to write seven or eight pages—and then to discard them in editing! Right now I'm working on a novel draft where I've decided an entire section needs to come out. If I'd written that by hand?! I can't even imagine.

I guess the tl;dr of it is I don't have a specific text to recommend. Rather, I encourage you to look around and grab anything that interests you. In doing so, though, I encourage you to approach it differently, focusing on what in it you find valuable, without either wholly rejecting it or feeling you have to follow it to the letter like an Ikea manual. I even found something valuable in C. S. Lewis's The Abolition of Man, which I honestly can't believe I read.

If you'd like some fiction advice that may be generally useful no matter what you're writing, this is what I can offer:

A valuable skill to hone is being able to read your work as if you have no other knowledge of it. In other words, you need to be able to read your work like a reader. One of the most difficult things to do with fiction is to cut. You usually have a lot more characterization, a lot more plot points, a lot more detail, etc. than end up on the page. The important question is if you cut something, will the reader notice? Will it actually feel like something's miss it, or will a reader never notice? Mind, I'm not saying that as a writer you can't tell if something is superfluous, or that anything you cut will be superfluous. I'm saying sometimes even if you cut something important a reader will still get the impression that what they are reading is whole and unedited. That isn't a good thing or a bad thing: it's a neutral thing. The question you'll have to answer is what is this whole that the reader is getting, and is that whole something you're satisfied with?

Get multiple rounds of feedback from many different readers. I say this not because it's vital, because beta readers are important, because you have to have multiple perspectives on your work, etc. None of that. Getting feedback from many different readers is a form of self-care on the part of the writer. I was deathly afraid of feedback as a young writer. I welcomed praise, sure, but anything else felt too painful to bear. This changed when I took a short fiction class at Berkeley. Suddenly a short story of mine wasn't getting one round of feedback: it was getting fourteen. And not just from the professor, but from fellow students. This was a minor revolution for me in terms of accepting feedback. If I were to take, say, one round of feedback, certainly there would be some praise, but there would also be notes like "awkward phrasing", "why did x character do y?", "this is unclear", "too much description", etc. These things would burn me. I would seethe reading them, and it would hurt so deeply. But! Imagine that one of them circles a paragraph and writes "too much description" and then the other thirteen readers say absolutely nothing at all about that paragraph—maybe one even puts a smiley face next to it. THAT puts the criticism in its proper context. Maybe your writing isn't too bad! Maybe there isn't too much description. Maybe that particular reader just wasn't vibing with it, and maybe that's okay. And then let's look at it from the other perspective. Say thirteen out of fourteen papers have a sentence marked and all of them say things like "huh?", "what's this mean?", "confusing", etc. Guess what? The sentence is probably confusing. And for some reason if everyone's saying the same thing it hurts a lot less. It means, yeah, you probably made a little mistake, and that's okay. It's not one person singling you out, and it's not the case that they don't know what they're talking about. I can't emphasize enough how freeing it is to look at reviews of your work if you have a handful or more to draw from rather than just a single good friend.

It's okay to write the fun part first. You may have a plot device you're really excited about, but to get there, you have to introduce your characters, have them get together, have them go to a place, meet someone else, etc. And it may take time and energy to write all that. You may feel pressured to get through that before you get to the part you really want to write. You certainly can, but you do not have to. I don't know if younger writers can appreciate exactly what it means to have a computer. You can write a little bit now and literally copy and paste it into some other document later. Try doing that with a typewriter! You can write something like "Insert paragraphs later of characters traveling to x location". You can even drop a variable in there so it's easy to find with the search function later (e.g. "ZZZZZ insert scene description here"—now you just need to search for "ZZZZZ"). You can put it in a different color on the screen so it's easy to find when scrolling. You can paste a freaking photo into your document! It's extraordinary what you can do with a computer that you couldn't do in years past. You've got a ton of options. But most importanly, when your work is done, no one will know what order you wrote it in.

In fiction, nothing has to happen. Villains don't have to be punished; heroes don't have to win; characters don't have to have a specific arc that comes to some conclusion. Honestly, one of the tropes (if you can even call it a trope) that I find most frustrating in sequels for movie franchises is after the characters are introduced, they take a few character and assign to them the major story conflict, and then for the rest, they give them a mini arc. It's like, "Mondo 2: Exploding the Mondoverse sees our hero Larjo Biggins take on new villain the Krunge as the very core of the Mondoverse is threatened with destruction! Also, Siddles Nuli learns its okay to be left out sometimes and she shouldn't get her feelings hurt, and Old Mucko learns that even though technology is advancing, sometimes good old fashioned common sense is just what the doctor ordered!" If you get to the end of your story, and you feel it's done, you don't have to panic if you suddenly realize we don't know whether Hupsi ever made it to Bumbus 7. It's okay if Story A is resolved but Story B is not.

I don't care if you used Trope A in your new story even though you used Trope A in your past seven stories and neither should you. Seriously, you think anyone was complaining when Agatha Christie put out another mystery novel? "Oh. Mystery again, huh? Gee, we were all hoping you'd write a book about the struggles traditional fishing villages are facing in the wake of industrial modernization." No we fucking weren't!

I hope you find some of this useful. Whether you did or not, though, be sure you enjoy what you're doing. If you are, you're doing the right thing.

[therealpie02]

One story at the hotel

Pairings: San x fem! reader x Yeosang

Summary: You and your friends stayed at the hotel after a good evening with alcohol. But alcohol wasn't to blame for what happened next. Your secret desires made you play with each other.

Word count: ~2k

Genre: smut 18+

Warnings: ITS A FICTION! Threesome, dom!San, dom!Yeosang, somnophilia, voyeurism (reader), oral sex (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, dirty talk, pet names (kitten, honey, darling), squirting, let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: friendly reminder English isn’t my native language <3

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

Judging by the way your head hurt, you had a great time with your friends at the restaurant. Then at the bar. Then on a visit. Then at the hotel. You hardly remember these places, as alcohol has taken over your head. Your mouth was dry, head ached, and it was cool under the covers. In general, the "best" hangover combo.

You needed to go to the bathroom. Opening your eyes a little, you couldn't see anything at first. It was probably still the middle of the night, and only the moonlight from under the curtains made it possible to see something. For example, you were able to identify who your roommate was. Yeosang was sleeping on the other side of the bed, and his beauty took your breath away. He looked like a sleeping beauty, his dark hair spread out on the pillow, a few strands fell over his face, which shone in the moonlight. You had a terrible desire to touch your friend, your thoughts were spinning chaotically in your head, and your gaze fell on his lips. Suddenly his lips parted and he moaned softly.

You're frozen in place. You tried not to breathe or blink. What just happened? Has Yeosang learned to read your mind in a dream? A simple coincidence? It's all alcohol in the blood, just a figment of your imagination. Yeosang was asleep, he couldn't moan. However, when he did it again, you lowered your gaze even lower. His magnificent body was completely naked, his chest heaved with deep breathing, the muscles of his abs tensed with one sigh, his stomach retracted and tensed, as if he was being given a blowjob. You were trying to keep all your composure when you realized that it turned out to be true. Above Yeosang's dick was San's face.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck" your whole body tensed, you felt an incredibly strong arousal underneath. Maybe just knowing what's going on right now has made you so wet. You knew that there was a close bond between them, but you didn't realize that it was so close. And now you're in the middle of it all.

San, apparently, did this more than once, he slowly touched his lips to Yeo's cock, which, despite his master's sleep, became bigger and harder. The man didn’t want to wake up his friend, so he tried to do everything gently, slowly running his hand over the hardened cock. The pre-cum flowed from the head along the entire length and veins, and, frankly, the view was very appetizing. The naked San was lying on his stomach between Yeosang's thighs, his head slowly sank onto his cock, his lips captured the head and began to suck gently. From pleasure, San closed his eyes and with full pleasure continued to insert the cock further.

How hard you tried not to moan. Yeosang himself was still asleep, although he began to cry out moans more often while San enthusiastically sucked his cock. You couldn't even imagine such a thing, but you are watching them with your own eyes. You felt hot, you were ready to cry from how you wanted to touch your needy pussy. You gently lowered your hand to clit and slowly and silently circled it. A jolt of pleasure went through your body, but you didn't show it.

"Ah, mmff, ah" Yeosang began to wake up and at the same time slightly thrust his hips into San's mouth, to which the man sat down even deeper with a groan. Gods, your friend sucked another friend's dick. San started the cock by his cheeks, licked from the base to the head, without missing a single drop of pre-cum, smacking his lips with ecstasy took his thrusts. You have accelerated the movements of your hand, you feel that you will come very soon.

After a few more thrusts of Yeosang, you heard his long moan, saw how his stomach tightened and how he poured cum down his friend's throat. You wonder if Yeosang knows who did this to him? The answer didn’t take long to come. After San swallowed all the cum, he stood over Yeo's chest. With one hand, San caught him by the cheeks, forcing him to open his jaw, with the other hand he ran over his hard cock.

"San," Yeosang whispered, to which San ordered him to open his mouth wider with his hand. When you looked at San, you realized that San was looking at you. A heartbeat. You held your breath, your hand stopped masturbating. His closed eyes were looking at you, he smirked at you and cum on Yeosang's face. His cum got on his nose, eye, lips and mouth. Yeosang obediently took every drop with his mouth.

"Fuck," you whispered, squirming under the covers because you had never been so horny before. You wanted to hide and get free. You wanted to cum. And San realized it faster.

"Y/n, aren't we friends?" he asked, carefully pulling off your cover. You nodded.

"You won't mind, will you, y/n? Yeosang and I are friends, you and I are friends, and you want this too, right?" San pulled the cover off you, thereby revealing to himself a view of you in a T-shirt and in only lace panties. Yeo knelt next to San and also looked at your wet folds. Yes, you are friends. Yes, you wanted your friends terribly. Yes, you imagined these guys from your department fucking you. Yes, you wanted it to go on.

"Yes," you said confidently. San smiled, Yeosang smirked. They both reached for your face, and San kissed you first, wetly and casually, biting your lip. After that, Yeosang bit into your lips, forcing you to open up under his pressure. When you felt that he handed you San's cum, which was in his mouth, you moaned into his lips. Breaking away from you, San and Yeosang kissed and knelt down again. You didn't know if alcohol was playing with you or not, but you didn't care.

"Did you want to do everything yourself, kitten?" said San, spreading your legs wider. When he didn't get an answer, Yeosang grabbed your face.

"Did you want to play without us, honey?" left them without an answer, Yeosang pressed your face harder with his fingers. "Please answer."

"I... I didn't want to distract you."

"You wanted to leave us without fun, you bad kitten," San growled as he touched your horny clit. You felt everything begin to pull at the bottom of your stomach again. Gods… At this time, Yeosang pulled up that T-shirt, removing it from your body with one finger and clung to your nipple. You started to tremble and feel like you were going to make a complete mess. Right in front of your friends.

"San, no, no, now I..." you started, but San just started working faster on the clit.

"You're going to make a complete mess, aren't you?"

"San, Yeosang, let me go out, I'll come back, I..." you screamed when you felt two fingers pulling your panties apart and ending up in your pussy. They were Yeo's fingers.

"Do what we say," Yeosang flashed his eyes at you from under his brows, forcing you to give up all attempts to get out of this trap.

They continued to torture your pussy and you knew that you could no longer restrain yourself. Without stopping, with rhythmic hand works, your friends sent you over the edge of your mind. You screamed, not really worried that someone might hear, because you felt the most powerful orgasm in your life. Your juices started pouring out of you, but the men didn't slow down their moves, making you flow only harder.

"Damn, I..." You couldn't believe they made you squirt.

"Dirty dirty kitten" San smiled d to dimples on his cheeks "You just couldn't help yourself right in front of our eyes" he stroked your throbbing and wet pussy, making you tremble.

"I bet you've been wanting to do this with us for a long time, little slut," Yeosang's deep voice rang out.

"One day we will definitely do it again," and from these words of San, you loudly swallowed saliva.

"Now be a good friend, open your legs and mouth wider," San ordered, stroking your ass from below. You looked at Yeosang, who approached your face and took you by the hair. You obediently opened your mouth to his big and hot cock. He pushed half inside you, but you could feel the salty taste of his pre-cum and moan. Now you understood why San had such a face, it was impossible not to enjoy Yeosang's cock.

Meanwhile, San, watching you obediently accept a friend's cock with your mouth, entered your pussy with one thrust, forcing you to moan into Yeo's cock. He quickly picked up an accelerated pace and you couldn't focus on him.

"You better not get distracted, darling" Yeosang fixed your head with his hand and began to hip into your mouth, head touching the wall of your throat. The sensations caused tears to flow down your face, saliva to flow out of your mouth, and your pussy was approaching a second orgasm.

"San" after Yeo's conversion, San immediately came out of you and went to your face while Yesan came out of your mouth and took San's place. And you felt his cock in your pussy and the way he stretched you even more.

"You're such a good kitten, why haven't we played with you before huh?" without giving you an answer, San turned your head to his cock and entered your mouth at the same pace as a second ago into your pussy.

You were panting and moaning, you were squirming, but both guys were holding you tight enough. Who would have thought that you would live to see this? You felt Yeosang's hips become more chaotic and deep, knocking the air out of your lungs. After a couple of seconds, he pinched your waist in his hands and finished in you with hot cum. Damn it, your friend has cummed a whole bucket into you and you want to cum again at the very thought.

Still not fully recovering, Yeosang moved away and lay down next to you, returning the place for San and kissing your face and neck. San returned his cock to your pussy and moaned.

"You like to take everything from the two of us, right? Our friend's sperm has not cooled down in you yet, how are you ready to accept me?" you almost cum from these words. You started moaning and crying louder because San set an incredible pace of thrusts.

"Y/n, cum. Now," Yesan ordered in your ear and you obeyed him. Your walls tightened around San's cock and began to pulsate around him, from which San cum deep into you. After pausing for a couple of seconds to catch his breath, San came out of you and looked at that reddened and exhausted pussy, from which their sperm began to flow and he grinned at this view. San adjusted your wet panties and lightly patted your pussy.

He lay down on the other side of you and also started kissing your face along with Yeosang.

"You are so good, kitten, tomorrow you will walk with the same panties, communicate with others, knowing that our cum is inside you, feeling like such a pretty whore," San whispered stroking your whole body with his hand.

"You are a true friend, y/n," Yeosang whispered.

You lay with them and understood only one thing. Yes, you would like to repeat this night over and over again.

[naomihatake]

Solitude

you can find other zoro fics here: Naomi's archive

pairing: zoro x fem reader

tags: hurt/comfort, fluff, consumption of alcohol

summary: One would expect the swordsman to unwind after a battle, but there are times when he can't help but think. Alcohol doesn't always come in handy when a specific crewmate he grew fond of cuddled a tad bit too close to his heart.

word count: 3.3k

theme song: 'Daylight' by David Kushner

A/N: It can be imagined with both anime and opla Zoro. I don't know if he's slightly ooc or not, but I genuinely wanted to dig into this side of a relationship with the swordsman. The awkward times when he's getting used to it and simply accepting everything as a new part of his life.

I didn't forget about my multi chapter fiction, I just didn't find the inspiration for the 8th chapter. I couldn't help but write this for my own comfort and I want to mention that this original art of @tea917339 inspired me (check it out, it's absolutely amazing!!!)

I'm always open for your opinions and comments, so don't be shy about sharing your thoughts with me! <3

Usually, nights with the Straw Hats were lively, even after battles that left the crew members injured and bleeding. They would pick each other up and cheer up by simply bickering — that's what Zoro thought. 

The same way Luffy's hand extended to help him back on his feet after he plopped down on the ground to rest. The same way Zoro reassured Chopper after the kid tried his best not to get emotional afterwards. The same way Sanji threw some remarks and the swordsman spat back in annoyance. And, for fuck’s sake, Nami reminded him for the tenth time that day he owes her berry for something he completely forgot about. Usopp was sighing in relief every time he remembered they escaped with life again while Robin agreed with a soft smile on her face. Truly, it was almost insane — Zoro wouldn't exactly call that a miracle because he's doubtful of its existence. 

However, he couldn't bring himself to cheer up once the celebration of their victory was over and everyone went into their rooms. He was on the night watch and all he found himself capable of doing was burying in memories of all kinds, be it happy or not. With not enough alcohol in his system yet, it was rather hard to push those thoughts into the back of his head. 

The swordsman sat on the deck, his back resting against the wooden cabin. Hidden from prying eyes, he found peace in the temporary silence. Rare were the times when the crew was so peaceful and it was usually during the night, when they were asleep, because otherwise they would've caused a mayhem. 

The side of his mouth curled upwards at that thought. It was equally annoying and endearing, since in the months spent with them he found a lot of things about himself. Like the fact that he found his crew to be a family, like the way he sometimes found peace even in the chaos caused by them. 

Or like the presence he grew way too fond of along the way. That witch — she truly was one, judging by the effect she had on him. Only a spell could've made his mind get so clouded, only some unknown force could've managed to soften his edges so well. She joined the crew from the first day and he believed that a spell had been casted upon him since the first time they gazed at each other. 

Right. Zoro gulped down. The effect she had on him was equally annoying and pleasant. 

Annoying because he should've focused on his promise to Kuina, not get lost in between fairytales. He wasn't by any means the charming prince riding a white horse and he didn't intend on becoming one anytime soon. It filled him up with feelings unknown to him. Zoro might be a fan of adventures and he had rather insane ideas — as one might say —, but such sentiments were an entirely new path to walk on. 

First and foremost, it bothered him the fact that he wasn't sure he could fulfill both his promises and whatever the fuck was going on between him and the witch. He couldn't pinpoint what was happening, it was all in a blur, even if everything was clearing up whenever he saw her. 

That's when he's reminded why he likes their relationship — what kind of, he didn't know. When he saw her, there were always sparkles in her eyes and the smile on her face would grow wider, lines of happiness appearing on her cheeks. The curl of her lips would make his heart skip a few beats and he would relax his shoulders unconsciously. Eyes filled with joy looked at him as if he was the very reason behind her purest sensations. 

Also, not to mention how warm the depths of his chest felt when she was near. The heat would rise to his cheeks, which he sometimes found uncomfortable, but Zoro never ran away. A side of him wished so badly to go the other way and never look back, ignore her and those stupid damned feelings, but he never gathered enough courage to do so. Every single time, he would remain stuck, with his eyes stuck on her frame and fingers aching to touch and lips tingling to kiss. 

God fucking dammit. 

With a curse rolling off his tongue casually as he closed his eyes, the back of his head collided with the wooden wall he rested his back against. Zoro sat with his knees bent and feet planted onto the floor, only his Wado Ichimoji in his proximity. With its hilt glued to his shoulder, the sheathed sword was in between his fingers. By that time, he held it for comfort.

If that's what he could call it. The swordsman wasn't sure what else to associate it with. Or was it familiarity? The white sword was the only memory he had of a long lost friend and his first home at the dojo, by the side of his sensei. It was the only object tying him to his past, to his beginning, to times when he was much weaker, but determined nonetheless. 

To care about his promise was familiar. Zoro wouldn't give it up — proof was the simple fact that he still achieved to become the strongest swordsman in the world. One day, he will meet Mihawk again and when he does, he will be stronger than the first time he encountered him at Baratie. 

Looking back, it's been so long since. So long since a new life appeared before his eyes and he accepted it with no hesitation. He was a pirate, a Straw Hat, Luffy's first mate. The swordsman swore to help his captain achieve his own dream. 

Those promises were familiar. The erratic heartbeats caused by the witch weren't. The sensation settling in the pits of his stomach when her gentle fingers would brush over his arm weren't. It was foreign and it didn't sit well with him. 

Kuina. 

He still saw her face in his dreams sometimes and it was usually her ghost haunting him. Other times, in her place would be one of his friends and each time it was harder to fall asleep. 

When awake, memories of her replayed so vividly in his mind. Swords clashing together and whistling as they cut the air in half. A grin brightening up Kuina's face when he would fall on his butt and cuss her out again. They promised that one of them would become the greatest, but he was the only one capable of that, because her bones lay in a grave somewhere far away. 

Zoro opened his eyes and stared at the night sky with scars scattered all over it. A calming view, even if there was tumult inside of him, hidden in between ribs that broke with each new pump of his heart. His brown eyes fell to the floor and he crossed his arms on top of his knees, gripping the sword tighter. His chest puffed up with air when he inhaled and he let out a heavy sigh. 

“Zoro?” a soft whisper made him jump out of his thoughts. 

The swordsman snapped his head and he was greeted by the sight of someone he didn't even know he was searching for. A side of him wished to say something along the lines of “fuck off” while the other side desperately wanted to soak into her presence. 

A witch, indeed. 

His eyes ran up and down her figure. She didn't seem surprised to find him there, in a rather hidden spot, which meant she didn't search for too long. Did she even search for him or did she also wish to be alone for a while? The first place to search for someone during night shifts was the crows nest. 

She held two bottles of what he guessed to be alcohol and she swung them carefully before stepping closer. His chest tightened and he found it harder to breathe, even if it was inevitably easier than before at the same time. For some reason, she had that effect on him. 

Maybe he knew that reason all too well, but he just avoided thinking of it. 

“You told me we'd drink something together,” she reminded him in that warm voice of hers. 

The sweet melody that calmed his nerves. 

He didn't know what kind of energy radiated off him, but her behavior was far more gentle than usual. She wasn't hesitant, the witch never hesitated around him, she was just mindful of her actions and words. 

He didn't know why for a second he saw understanding in the curl of her lips when she crouched down. Unconsciously, Zoro knitted his eyebrows together in confusion at her gestures. 

The bottles hit the floor and she let go of them. Her eyes sparkled like they always did, but there was something different that time — a warmth they held only when she comforted Chopper or encouraged Usopp. Warmth similar to the shy rays of the sun of the morning, when the cold is still lingering and there's a specific scent in the air. Gentleness he only ever saw in her, because Luffy's kindness was different. 

A warmth so humane that was visible for the crew alone or those in need of it. 

The witch recognized something in his demeanor and Zoro had no clue what that was about. He could only see it in her gaze. 

“I suppose it isn't really the perfect time for me to butt in, hm?” she whispered. 

Like a promise only for him to hear. A secret. 

“How'd you find me here?” he found himself speaking before he thought it through. 

The question made her shrug. 

“I pick up easily on your energy. It's quite unmistakable, y'know?” 

There it was — one of the main reasons why she had the nickname of Witch both on the ship and outside of it. She's spoken about that for a few times and he had to admit he understood what she meant. However, the swordsman only felt those “energies” (as she liked to call them) in specific moments. He remembers that time in Lougetown when everything felt like energy instead of palpable objects, the reason why he won that fight. 

Sometimes he seriously wondered if she hadn't met his sensei at some point in her life. 

“What is it like?” once again, he asked before thinking. 

The witch pulled her lips in a tight line and hummed, gathering the right words to describe it. Her gaze bounced around and she grimaced once, when she probably found her choice of words to be unpleasant or inappropriate — she always scrunched her nose when it was difficult to find the proper terms. 

“It's sharp, but warm. Kind of steady, constantly flickering. For example, Luffy's energy is always all around the place and Chopper's gets out of control easily. Robin has the steadiest energy of all of us, even if it was kind of… strange lately.” 

Zoro arched his eyebrow at the last piece of information and only received a hand waving through the air. 

“Ignore the last part, I'm still figuring it out myself. No need to worry.” 

The swordsman knew the energy she was talking about was different than what he felt when she was in presence, but he wondered if whatever laid in her heart interfered with her ability to distinguish his being from the others. 

He watched as the witch looked at the bottles next to him and then clicked her tongue, deep in thought. 

“I don't know if they'd help you tonight, but I'll let you be.” 

None of those words were accusatory. They were all coming from a place of kindness and patience. 

Suddenly, her fingers curled around his bicep, below the bandana wrapped around his arm. Skin on skin, her touch was hot and pleasant, even if very confusing. 

What was she thinking? 

His puzzled feelings were written on his face. Uncertainty laid in his dark brown eyes and his fingers held onto the sword tighter. He didn't even notice when the grip on his Wado Ichimoji loosened up. 

Her gaze was reassuring as ever and she gently rubbed her thumb into his tensed muscles. 

Zoro had to at least admit to himself that vulnerability was uncomfortable. Without spoken words, she picked up on it. 

“I don't know for sure if I'll get to sleep tonight, so you could cut your night shift in half.” She's having issues with nightmares again? he silently wondered. “I'll be in my room, reading. Do what you see fit.” 

Instantly, she was back on her feet with her back straight and walked away. The swordsman didn't know what happened or what he should understand. 

He was utterly and completely confused. What just happened? 

Oh. The witch gave him space and time to think. She also told him where she was in case he decided to grip at the promise of comfort and hold tightly onto it. The opportunity laid right in front of him and he was the only one to decide whether he used it to his advantage or not. 

Zoro didn't notice when his shoulders relaxed. His body wasn't as tense as a few minutes ago, his back didn't feel as stiff. The exhale he left wasn't heavy anymore. 

The swordsman knew what this was about. Maybe it was the time to just accept his feelings and get on with it. He had to suck it up and deal with it, even if dealing with her wasn't the right way to word it out. It always felt more like she was dealing with him. 

With closed eyes, he remembered the last time her lips brushed by his. Gosh, it was so hot and his blood was bubbling like lava in his veins. It wasn't an accident, he intended on kissing her back with fever, but he had a hard time accepting everything. It was… weird. Facing that reality was troublesome. 

She has yet to lose her patience. The witch remained firm and each one of her questions were answered by gestures instead of words — something familiar for him. She was far more skilled with expressing herself even when sensitive topics came up. 

That was a miracle. Her presence alone could be compared to a miracle because it was completely unexpected and somehow always caressing him the right way. It was scary how accurately she could read him and the same applied to him. 

The sky before his eyes continued to sparkle with stars and he remained still in his place. His fingers caressed the scabbard of his sword as he blinked in the darkness, the chill air of the night invading his lungs. 

It was complicated and so simple at the same time. Zoro knew the answer — he just had to come to terms with it. 

Just as age promised, the witch sat on the bed in her room with a blanket warming her up. The lamp on the nightstand by her side casted a golden light over the pages of a book sitting in her lap. It was hard to focus on the story — a captivating part of pirate's history, sometime before the appearance of Gold D. Roger.

Her thoughts were followed by the swordsman. Zoro's mood was… sad at best. She didn't expect to find him in that state, but she quickly came to the conclusion that leaving him alone might do him good. 

She tapped her finger over the pages of the old book and clicked her tongue. Was it right to leave him? The witch never saw him in a similar mood and she also realized she didn't know how to help him. There could be a lot of ways to bring him back to earth or at least keep him afloat. Those ways were only known by him. All she could do was guess and hope for the best outcome. 

Heavy footsteps echoed on the other side of the door. When it opened wide, there was Zoro's tall silhouette, his white sword in his hand and one bottle of alcohol in his other. He came closer, his face hard as a stone. The pink hue painting his cheeks was the only detail giving away the fact that he drank one of the bottles she brought hours ago. 

“Why aren't you sleeping yet?” he said with a gruff voice as he plopped down on the mattress. 

There were only a few hours left before the sun would rise up from the sea. 

“You've probably guessed already,” she averted her eyes from his figure. 

“Nightmares again?” 

The witch only nodded, eyes focused on the book. Zoro let the sword against the couch. 

“I won't fall asleep, so you could as well take a night off,” only then she looked at him again. 

His darkened eyes have been locked on her since he entered the valley. The witch wanted to move, to eventually get away from his knowing gaze, but she knew there was no possible way to do it. 

“Are you alright?” she blurted out. 

She had to fill that silence with some kind of conversation. Maybe that wasn't exactly the wisest decision, considering his shoulders visibly tensed and he straightened his back. A frown appeared on her face. She regretted talking. 

The witch figured out he needed more time to sort his thoughts. 

“Why don't you go to sleep?” she tilted her head to the side. “The fight has worn us all out. You could rest for a while.” 

“And you?” 

“We'll be sailing for a few days. I can sleep ‘till afternoon.” 

“Nothing will happen for as long as you're on this ship with us,” the reassurance slipped so easily. “Do you trust us?” 

“More than anything,” the witch responded with a faint smile. 

Several weeks ago, her answer and reaction would've been so different. She made so much progress since she first met them, her trust now fully laying in their palms. Long ago, she would've backed away at such a question and, if they were lucky enough, the witch would admit she “needs time to adjust”. 

At first, all he did was lean close enough for his shoulder to touch hers. The swordsman only intended to enjoy some peace while he shared his booze with the witch. From time to time, she'd gulp from the bottle and then give it back to him before continuing her lecture. After each two minutes, the room would be filled by the rustling of pages. 

It didn't last long until he fell into her trap and tiredness dragged him glued to her. With his head in her lap, Zoro bumped his nose in her thigh. The witch's fingers ran through his hair and he let out an audible exhale, eyes closing instantly. Greeted by darkness, he felt warm not only on the inside. The blanket she curled around herself earlier was now covering his upper body as he sunk into the soft mattress and her. 

One of his hands curled around her knee and he dug his fingers into her flesh. Her leg jerked slightly at the unexpected touch, but when he tried to move away, she muttered a sweet “It's okay”, stopping his movements. 

The oxygen in his lungs was exchanged with her perfume and he bit back a groan. Her voice was like a lullaby, even if there weren't many words rolling off her tongue. Zoro wasn't bothered by the light of the lamp, completely forgetting about the world around him once her fingers continued running through his hair. 

His hand traveled up, until it fully rested on her thigh, the warmth of her body seeping through the thin material of her pants. Truth be told, he's never felt better. 

She was a remedy. His remedy. 

“Good night.”

Zoro heard her whisper solely because he was near her; otherwise he would've confounded it with the night breeze. 

Maybe giving in to her affection isn't that bad. 

[daenerystargaryen06]

Can Dany Antis stop with calling my girl genocidal? I've been seeing the word be used all over tik tok and Tumblr, and using the word to describe the horrendous scene that was season eight is wrong. Taking in part that season eight isn't even considered canon to me and a majority of the fandom... Daenerys didn't commit genocide even if we factor in the horrendous bullshit that was episode five.

Sure, we could say Daenerys suddenly snapped or whatever and burned down King's Landing. Anyone can make an excuse for that scene, the directors butchered it and Daenerys' entire character. But antis mainly use it to excuse their hate on Dany because Dumb&Dumber fed into their crap and retconned everything that established Daenerys and who she was for the past seasons of her characterization. I don't care if antis make a big fuss using the scene; it happened in the show, and I tend to ignore it or block anyone who takes the scene literally. What I do hate about it is that not only does the scene enable antis to use a real term on a fantasy setting against a fictional character, but they use it so falsely and illiterately they can't be taken seriously and it makes my brain hurt.

A good majority of the anti arguments I see are "why do you like Dany she committed genocide?" "So you support genocide?" etc, etc.

Let's take a look at the straight definition of genocide (nabbed from Google ofc): "the deliberate killing of a large number of people from a particular nation or ethnic group with the aim of destroying that nation or group."

Notice how, in definition, genocide is the act of killing to destroy a nation or ethnic group. A great example of that would be from our own histories; H*tler and the N*zis committed acts of genocide with the intent to destroy a nation/ethnicity, the Jews. Imagine applying this to fiction of all things... and still getting it wrong.

Daenerys did not burn King's Landing to wipe out a specific nation/culture/ethnicity. That was never her intent. She burnt a city and its people, yes, but not because of their nationality. In the books and in the show prior to season eight, Daenerys acclimated to various cultures and respected them. In the show: Daenerys was the one who was viewed as the foreigner coming to white (Northern) lands. The Northerners were depicted as being openly xenophobic to Daenerys' armies and her people. Daenerys was viewed as part of Essos, in season seven she was even called a foreign invader with no ties to Westeros (that being completely false as well).

What my point is, antis, if you're going to hate on Dany just because of one scene that butchered her entire character suddenly "proves" your 'mad Dany theories' right... then at least do it correctly, and gain some comprehension. What Daenerys did in that garbage of a show was mass murder, not genocide. At least do the courtesy of learning how to read and basic definitions before making an argument about your hatred of a fictional character in fantasy that lives in your mind rent free.

I still believe season 8 is non-canon garbage. Book!Daenerys continues to slay, and I will always love show!Daenerys before the season that will no longer be named xx.

[skloomdumpster]

I keep trying to work out why Silva went to such lengths to build up this hyper-idealised image of Andreas in Sky's mind and I keep coming up short. I mean, okay, he probably wanted Sky to have decent male role models (and Silva felt guilty about killing Andreas) but Sky already had one of those in Silva. Silva was all the things he claimed Andreas was. Which makes what he did even more baffling.

I feel bad for Sky too - imagine being told growing up every five minutes what a great, noble warrior your dad is and then the real thing shows up - and he's basically an overgrown high school bully - Silva didn't just lie about how Andreas died, he lied about his entire personality. In Sky's shoes, I'd be pissed too.

I wondered once or twice even if Rosalind had Andreas under mind control - not regularly, but often enough that she'd done permanent damage to his mind in some way. Or maybe he'd been hit on the head one time too many. Beatrix was a better strategist than he was - and less easily manipulated - and she was 16.

Of course, Andreas may have just been Like That™ to begin with.

I cannot put in enough words how much fun this ask was to get!! CACKLING at the Andreas' comments.

Alright so I thought at length about the Silva conundrum, I remember thinking the same, literally why are you making up this saint about a bully? Why are you generating distance between you and the son you raised? The boy who wants to be your son?

And the it dawned on me that the goal is exactly that.

I think Silva felt incredibly guilty over Sky and that this enormous sensation of duty and guilt has been his north for longer than anything else has. Silva is a man who describes his father's attack to a Burned One and the fact he took upon his young (10 years old!!) shoulders the burden to give his father a mercy kill. It's Duty Duty Duty.

And I think it's important we differentiate duty from obedience. Andreas is obedient. Andreas hears orders and ignores his own criticism of them, he follows trough no matter what. Silva is dutiful. He has morals and a strict honor code and he'll sometimes fuck himself up over these, he'll get tunnel vision when he has 1 goal in mind (cough "your duty is to Alfea!" said to Sky about spying on Bloom)

All this just to say, I think Silva didn't see himself as a good role to Sky not even for a second. Not when he was a drunk and had a baby he didn't even really want, not when he was sober and had to deal with the fact he had taken a father from this kid - had murdered Andreas, and certainly not when Sky started asking questions and he wanted to give a good answer so he projects some of his traits, some of his own father's traits into a fictional Andreas and only digs the hole deeper. By doing what he thinks is right: killing Andreas, taking Sky under his wing, lying to Sky so he can have a good role model, Saul only makes himself less and less of a good guy in his own eyes and so he NEEDS to push himself from Sky and well... Rinse repeat.

A vicious cycle you cannot be free from unless you're willing to go through dismantling all of it. I wonder if a small part of Saul felt soul crushing relief when Andreas came back and ruined everything. Yes, he revealed Saul was a liar in more ways than one, he showed Saul was a murderer... But also he showed Sky he was not the Andreas from the stories. Which certainly hurt like hell to Sky, but must've felt a little good from Saul's perspective, since he was painting an Andreas who could easily step in and take his son and that simply wasn't reality.

I'm probably rambling, sorry!!

Now, about Andreas, I AGREE SO MUCH. Honestly, about Andreas AND Saul! Strategic my ass, these two are terrible. But I do think Saul has a much clearer head during combat, he can explore his team's strengths and the enemies weaknesses, where Andreas is brute force.

Which, sure, is pretty bad when we look at it head on, but it's not something without its place in a war. Rosalind promoted him for a reason and I can see it, when you're a bloody war where there's no place for hesitation, no place for mercy and obedience is all your commander asks from, Andreas is the perfect soldier. He's a man who'll push through whatever is front of him with sheer brute force and that's what the Burned Ones called for most of the time in the battle field, someone relentless and blood thirsty. In the long run? Not so much!

I think it shows how Andreas is as a character: pragmatic, brute, loyal - that he doesn't question Rosalind's orders and fucks up his relationship with Bea by doing this. Why did he lie about what happened in Aster Dell? Anyone with a brain would understand he'd have a better luck twisting what Aster Dell stood for (a corrupt place) than twisting his role in its destruction. Yet he does that!! He's not a very bright man and that's alright, being smarter than he was would've probably gotten him murdered sooner tbh.

[aurora-313]

In all your readings, have you found another couple that functions perfectly as both platonic friends and as lovers as ichiruki do, but that is so underutilized by its creator in any capacity?

(Imagine Lisa easing out from Black and Blue, then she and Kaien are friends for a little while, then they see each other once a century.Fans of their relationship will be upset, and it will be their right. What will not be their right will be to act nasty about it. You know that you assume a risk with a WIP. )

Any author can do what they want with their story, but when you create expectations that you don't meet, people will be upset, especially if they pay you, and you use their friendship/romance as a selling pitch. I still don't get why people are upset on the people that are upset. Again being a WIP, doesn't mean that I have to like whatever direction the author chooses. I personally rarely take risks on WIPs, so I STARTED BLEACH AFTER IT WAS FINISHED AND I KNEW THE ENDING, and the false advertising still hit me. I fell for ichiruki, and the end and then the soul burriel chapter where they barely speak on the phone and Renji now replaced Rukia as Ichigo's friend was an 180degree if I ever saw one. I wonder if in the Hell Arc, they'll even recognize each other anymore..

P.S. Thank you for remembering Rukia in your fiction more than her creator does in canon.

(Please forgive me. This answer went on a ramble and I don't think I actually answered your question.)

I'm sure I've seen a few in my time.

The ones that readily leap to mind from my childhood are Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill from Stargate SG1, and Doctor Weir and Major Shepperd from Stargate Atlantis. Although I'm not sure the first duo count since there's multiple alternate universes where they do get hitched.

But onto Bleach. IchiHime fits under this category in my opinion: the 'under developed and under utilized' part.

Sure we have the 'love you in five lives' speech and the not-kiss, but"

One: Kissing an unconscious person that you're not in a committed relationship with is not cool. Under any circumstance.

Two: She's consistently scared shitless of Ichigo's powers and rejects his hollow, even though the Hollow is literally his soul manifest.

Three: Orihime repeatedly demonstrates she doesn't really understand how Ichigo works.

In the post-Deicide novels, Orihime was actively happy Ichigo didn't have powers anymore, only to reluctantly change her tune when she saw how thoroughly miserable he was without them.

It would've been great character progression to see Orihime delve into that personal stance: why was she happy about Ichigo being powerless? Because she legitimately didn't want him to get hurt anymore? Or relief that he wouldn't turn into a monster again?

And overcoming those personal scruples would've been a fantastic personal journey to see in the manga. Her coming to terms and reconciling her image of Ichigo being this heroic ideal and the flawed, deeply traumatized individual who had the capacity to be literally monstrous.

Orihime could've reexamined her feelings about ichigo at their core, and realise perhaps she doesn't actually love him after all. That she lusts after an ideal she's modelled in Ichigo's image. In realizing and coming to terms with that error, in abandoning her preconceived notions and actually seeing Ichigo for the first time, warts and all, Orihime could've paved the foundation to build a genuine friendship. Later possibly a romance.

If this was the journey Orihime went on through Bleach, taken entirely of her own accord, with a conclusion on her own terms? Then I wouldn't have been nearly as jarred by the epilogue. Ichigo's Oedipus complex aside.

But I digress.

Rukia was one half of the main duo that made Bleach compelling. And Kubo absolutely pushed her away after FKT, attempting (key word "attempting") to put Orihime in her place. Which is a frankly bizarre decision. Rukia is the "Death" to Ichigo's "Strawberry". She is the deuteragonist, the inciting incident to the whole story and the primary motivation for the first two arcs (Aizen's and Kisuke's century's long trans-dimensional chess match aside).

Ichigo pushed himself beyond breaking and learned skills well beyond his paygrade to save Rukia from unjust execution. In his desperation to achieve that goal, Ichigo had to learn to fly before he could crawl, ultimately mutilating his own powerset in the process.

In any other media, in any other story, that tends to be a giant glowing give away about the nature of his feelings, even if Ichigo wasn't entirely clear on them himself. Its the classic handsome knight rescuing the princess in the tower and riding off in the sunset to live happily ever after.

Yes, Ichigo went through the same motions to rescue Orihime from Aizen, but he had doubts about her. Even in his venture, Ichigo entertained the idea that Orihime had legitimately betrayed them. Then the narrative goes out of its way to demonstrate her presence was merely an excuse for Ichigo to settle his scores with Grimmjow and Ulquiorra, and for Aizen to remove Soul Society's best weapon from play. Ichigo did personally want to save Orihime but he felt like he was conducting himself out of obligation, driven by his white knight/martyr complex. As soon as Ichigo felt Rukia's reiatsu flagging, he immediately shifted gears because 'Oh shit, gotta go save my totally platonic bestie first, bye!' and would've proceeded to do exactly that until Ulquiorra goaded him.

To me, Ichigo and Rukia is what made Bleach BLEACH. Their banter is what I loved about the first arcs, the teasing sprinkled with moments of heartfelt connection (in case you can't tell, its my favourite love language. Hence why Lisa and Kaien poke and tease each other all the time).

There's no 'Now I realise I why I wanted to save you' moment with Orihime in HM. She's narratively bait for Aizen's schemes and little more, as soon as she's safe-ish, Ichigo ditches and moves onto other grudge matches.

Then the final arc and the epilogue chapters roll around and I had to ask myself, is this even the same manga? Where's the Death and the Strawberry? Where is the bond that started ALL of this? Rukia is the woman who gave Ichigo the means to combat his despair, and they don't even talk anymore? You don't think Ichigo would've wanted to extend his congratulations for Rukia getting married? Having a kid? Getting prompted to Captaincy? Or anything to indicate they were friends at all?

(yes, Ichigo does in the novel but its telling one interaction between them is completely overshadows the story's 'main' pairing.)

My issue with TYBW and epilogue isn't the pairings - though that is a part. My issue is the narrative took great pains from the start to demonstrate Ichigo never felt like he belonged in the living world. His life was a dull tedious affair. The Fullbring arc reveals how much he actively hates Karakura and wants to leave ASAP.

Ichigo only began to truly LIVE once he gained shinigami powers (we'll ignore the fact he was only born and raised to be a weapon/universal battery). He loved every second of it, even when the power scared him and acted beyond his control. He fit into the realm of the dead far better than he ever did in the living.

Then Kubo turns around and claims; actually, NO. Ichigo's super content with exactly the same quiet kind of life he despised with every fibre of his being, living in a town he fucking hates and wanted to leave as soon as he graduated.

How does that shift in gears not raise serious red flags?

I'm not saying Ichigo had to go and live in Soul Society (though that was being set up thanks to the god-tier powers he'd been juiced with) but I did expect him to leave Karakura behind when all was said and done.

As a random-ish segue on the matter of friendship.

The Karakura gang feel like fair-weather friends more than anything else, excepting two circumstances: Ichigo and Chad (first arc) and Tatsuki and Orihime. Even then, those friendships become a stretch in later arcs before basically disappearing entirely. Sure, Chad, Ishida, Ichigo and Orihime have had life and death adventures together, but those scenarios were either a matter of self-preservation or wounded pride. Sometimes both.

But remove the supernatural circumstances, the Karakura gang felt like the average transient high school friendship. Circumstance brought them together, they would remain friends until graduation, then they'd all go their separate ways never to see each other again. Which is a sad state of affairs given Bleach's theme about the heart and nature of human connection.

But one must ask how strong those friendship really are when Ichigo will jump to the worst conclusion at the drop of a hat?

Orihime in Hueco Mundo, as stated above, Ichigo seriously entertained the idea she was a traitor until Ulquiorra claimed otherwise.

Chad with Xcution, Ichigo immediately assumed the worst intentions about it until Chad revealed he joined as a means to help Ichigo get his powers back.

Ishida joining the Quincy, Ichigo instantly assumed Ishida was 110% on board with the whole destroy reality plan until Ishida outright states 'I'm a double agent, you fucking dumbass.' (I give the Fullbringer arc incident a pass because Ichigo was not thinking clearly at the time)

It doesn't strike me as particularly strong or healthy when the first instinct is to immediately assume the worst.

But anyway, I shall get off my soapbox for now.

I do enjoy writing a great deal of Kaien, which means Rukia is inevitably involved given how intrinsically linked their stories are. Kind of hard to have a story about him and not have her in it. :D

I hope you continue to enjoy Kaien and Rukia in my writings. :)

[literaryspinster]

I’m on ch 3 of your limoreau fic and I’m struggling a bit with the decision to make Powerlad racist, why does every story about Black people have to involve racism as a plot device?

I don’t believe it does. I just made that specific choice because one of the big themes of that story (and The Boys itself) is toxic celebrity culture, and I wanted to convey that theme in a way that felt somewhat high stakes without getting into big conspiracy territory or putting Marie through what Starlight went through (or any other sort of physical violence).

A privileged celebrity having their problematic nature exposed, only for their fans and those in power to go out of their way to protect them, often at the expense of the less protected people in their orbit, is something I’ve witnessed online multiple times, and as a Black woman it’s exhausting to see. I can only imagine what that’s like for those more directly affected. That’s kind of what I wanted to explore with that plotline.

I also don’t think racism is a thing that just exists in media to make Black people feel like they can never escape it. It’s an actual part of our lives. I’ve been disrespected and hurt on account of my race, and while the fact that that’s happened doesn’t define me, or even figure into my day to day life as much as it once did, it is something I’ve felt the need to grapple with in various ways, including through writing. I also address queerphobia and sexism but racism is what I feel the most equipped to unpack because it’s what I’ve dealt with the most in my interactions with people (I’m a part of the queer community but quite straight-presenting, and am not a part of a profession or lifestyle that’s heavily associated with men or manliness, so sexism isn’t something I tend to feel on a visceral level).

Furthermore, I believe racism is one of the ‘isms that speculative fiction actually tends to be the shyest about. I’ve watched plenty of mainstream content where sexism is addressed repeatedly, meanwhile race is never commented on in any way in spite of the cast of characters being racially diverse (The Beauty and the Beast remake is the example that stands out the most to me). Or I’ve seen white women dealing with sexism and only Black men dealing with racism while the Black women in the story are just kind of there (i.e. Outlander, a show I could not finish in spite of all of the praise it received). Or some entirely fictional creature or concept is meant as the stand in for racism. I understand wanting to read about different things, but I do believe that there’s a middle ground between making our stories entirely about race and just pretending that it doesn’t exist.

All that being said. Fanfic is meant for escapism, I get that. I wasn’t trying to make anyone feel annoyed or let down or anything like that, I was just doing what I always do when I’m writing a fanfic that’s not a complete AU, playing in someone else’s sandbox with someone else’s toys. The Boys is all about satirizing topics like public bigotry (and yeah, it’s a Gen V fic but the point of it was to imagine them in The Seven so therefore on The Boys). I’m not always a fan of how they go about it, but I do appreciate its point of view a fair amount more than something like South Park, or even the show’s own source material. I doubt I would have stuck with it for three seasons if that wasn’t the case. So when writing for a show that frequently lampoons racists and other types of ridiculous people, the decisions made with Powerlad came pretty naturally. If I’d known I’d be disappointing people to this degree (you aren’t the first to comment on this) then I would have maybe gone in a different direction. To be honest the criticism has taken the wind out of my sails a bit.

In spite of everything, the rest of the story is planned out and partially written. Even though the fandom is understandably in a bad place right now, I hope the way everything plays out feels rewarding to people who choose to finish.

[meet-at-tycho]

sorryyy its late and i am filled with joy and whimsy. i love them so much, my sibling always gets annoyed with me cuz theyre all i talk about.. can you blame me? to have that vast boring nothingness shift into excitement and happiness and real true love? if you were me, youd talk about it too

its so funny cuz my life seems to move in cycles, familiar patterns that ive grown really sick of.. traumatizing and terrible, horrible bloody mess.... and then the most long drawn out boring slice of life youve ever witnessed. trauma! nothing! trauma! nothing! really tired of that.. i never thought that my nothing could be broken with joy, isnt that strange? for once, im not really hurting anymore. when i do hurt, i can handle it on my own and let go, and if its too much then i know im safe to express it

ive come such a long way, i dont tend to see myself positively, but.. its hard not to be proud. guys it turns out all you need to be happy is like. LOVE isnt that so corny isnt that so unbelievably predictable... APPARENTLY its true, i guess it feels different when yr actually experiencing it firsthand

im like on the verge of tears right now but. theres no sweeter joy than this, its so fucking BIZARRE. how did it happen this way? all the little bits and pieces that fell into place, delivered me angels and made me whole again.. cheesy, i know im being cheesy but i cant help it!! im sweet on them as often as i can be but theres still a lot of things i just.. dont have the strength to say directly. so i say them here, im sure only one of you will see this anyways. but i dont need either of you to see it, just speaking my feelings out into open air eases my mind a bit more

sometimes im like wow! theres no way this is healthy im . can i really experience true love? love that doesnt hurt? love thats REAL? as much as im tempted to deny it, im living it every day!!! i wake up and theyre both there to greet me, isnt that sweet? the first people i speak to when i wake up, the last people i say goodnight to when i go to sleep

i think i just need someone, i think im the kind of person that just.. ive been alone for a while, its OKAY its whatever, ive definitely grown used to it but. i thrive when im with them, its so? maybe all i need is someone else to keep me here.. ive got two!!!!!

maybe thats not clear enough

the way id get through that droning loneliness is escapism, nonstop daydreams and dissociation, i was barely here. only to eat and take care of my body a little bit, then its back to fantasy, because .. theres people who love me in my dreams! but.. im honestly finding it so hard to slip back into that habit now. its scary, because its whats kept me safe. hiding in fiction has kept me safe, kept me calm, happy.. but i cant shake it out of my head!!!! any time i try to fall back into those routines, the only thing i can think of is THEM.. like yeah this is great and all but.. i dont want to be trapped in my head anymore!!! theyre out there, i want to be out there..

if im honest? its terrifying. im forced to come to terms with ME as a person, who i am, something ive neglected to acknowledge for my entire life, but. im so completely wrapped up in my love for them that i hardly think about that!!!!! for once, it sorta almost feels like time is moving how it should be.. like every day that passes is different, every day that passes is SPECIAL. it hurts me to say this, but i think i love being alive? can you imagine that? how is it possible that two strangers could just.. fall into my life one day and before i even know it, im healing, im happy, im whole. MAKE ME SICKK its so foul. its almost pathetic!!! is that really all ive needed? this whole time, and i couldnt find ONE proper candidate throughout 20 years of life? its hard to really be upset about it, cuz.. ive got them now. thats all that matters

idk, i just. i think its really telling the kind of people they are, i know im only me, but.. for what its worth, theyve improved my life so drastically, i wouldve never thought id see myself happy like this. they do that for me, they do that and so much more. i love you 💞

[beesmygod]

what other genres of fiction would you like to create? like would you wanna make a high fantasy comic, full scifi comic, stuff like that

i have a couple of really dumb/fun low stakes stuff that's all comedy+another genre (crime, light sci-fi). but i also have been picking away mentally at a story abt a woman on trial for a heinous murder(s) and the events that lead to the development of the psychosis that takes over her life.

it took me 800 years to write this sentence bc reading something like that should trigger the "cringe edgy pivot from comedy to melodrama" alarm bells, but its one of those subjects thats been on my mind for about a year or so now as i become A Woman Of A Certain Age lol. i want to explore "how and why would a mother hurt their child(ren) in spite of the obvious societal repercussions" is a topic that really vexes me and the way my own diseased, addled brain tries to make sense of it is by creating a character.

but she has to make sense!!! it cant just be "oh she drinks baby blood bc she thinks it makes her live longer". no!!!! why does she hold this belief? how did this belief develop? where did it come from? what are the imagined mechanics of it? what is the "proof" that it works? how many times does she do it? how does she do it? what is the underlying lizard brain reason driving her? fear of dying? gratification? pity? i need to know the entire picture!!!!!

[daytaker]

Potential Weaponization of Anti-Ship Culture to Justify Personal Discomfort - An Essay

TW: mentions of shipping minors, censored use of words often used in the context of shipping minors by those who dislike it, some devil's advocation, a critical look at the motivations behind a multilayered and multifaceted movement that includes many people who are there for diverse reasons and whose disliked ships range from "literally there's nothing wrong with this" to "the most toxic and abusive thing imaginable" so please don't take this as me saying everyone's views within anti-culture are morally or ethically equivalent because they aren't, also simping over an anime man, but I'm not sorry for that because he's beautiful. And also potential kavetham slander but it isn't really slander because I never claim that there's actually anything wrong with the ship, but if seeing me say "i don't like that" might upset you maybe give this one a miss.

The reason I was thinking about this subject at all is because of this video essay, which I encourage you to watch if you're at all interested in this sort of thing:

Fandom Policing, Purity Culture and the Death of Media Literacy by E

(also i call this an essay in a tongue-in-cheek way but it's lowkey the length of an actual essay so strap in i guess.)

So I've been playing hella Genshin Impact again lately.

I want to marry Kaveh. I want him carnally. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and say that, actually, I am already married to Kaveh in every sense of the word besides legally. Additionally, I should probably mention that I'm probably the least polyamorous person alive. I simply could never share in a relationship. I would inevitably have a favorite and it would be an ugly mess. I mention this because it provides a bit of context as to why I feel so sad that my husband Kaveh is so ubiquitously shipped with whats-his-name, because I am deeply and intensely in love with him, so seeing him with another man hurts me on a very deep level, and I cannot nor do I want to engage in the mental gymnastics of an imaginary polycule.

So all that said, I was sitting alone, stewing over my dislike of this ship, and something occurred to me. Something disturbing. Because as much as I don't ship this particular thing, there's nothing wrong with the ship. The characters are adults, they're not related, there's no abuse, they just canonically act as if they don't like each other while having a more complicated relationship. You know the type. They're very popular. I've never liked ships between characters that don't get along in canon, so even if I wasn't madly in love with Kaveh, I don't think I'd be a fan of this particular ship. What I'm getting at is this:

What if I gave into my darker impulses and acted like the worst of the antis? I could come up with some rationale for why this extremely popular ship is actually extremely toxic and validate my own discomfort over seeing my lawfully wedded husband getting dicked down by some dude. I could say, "Financial abuse! Kaveh could never be in a consensual relationship with a man who could literally make him homeless on a whim!" I could say "My precious baby is being manipulated by a man who is in a position of power over him due to my baby's decision to value his art over all else and hurling himself into bankruptcy like a moron!"

Then I could declare that the ship is toxic; therefore those who ship it are toxic; therefore those who warn about its toxicity are protecting others from toxic influences. I am morally good. I am protecting the internet from nastiness.

Of course that would be very silly and extremely manipulative of me, because there's nothing inherently wrong with shipping two adults from a piece of fictional media, even when their dynamic is a lot more dubious than the one between these two.

But this brings me back to what I was thinking about before... That is to say, my deep, gut discomfort with the ship for entirely personal reasons. A lot of people, myself included, seem to feel like we need to have logical reasons behind our likes and dislikes. It's not enough just to feel a certain way. We need to be able to defend our views against nay-sayers. This is particularly true when you dislike something, because when you go out into a crowd (the internet) and start broadcasting that you don't like something, it's seen as a little inflammatory.

And with good reason! If I didn't think of all this stuff I wanna talk about, I would have kept my thoughts on this ship completely to myself, because my negativity really couldn't do anything but antagonize people who do like the ship.

I wonder to what extent our culture of extremism has bled into our media consumption even on such an unimportant level as shipping. If I find out someone I know votes Republican, that will change my entire perspective on them. But sometimes we take something like that and translate it to stuff that's a lot less important. Like, "If I find out someone ships two teenagers, that will change my entire perspective on them." (I'm not here to get into the ethics of shipping minors, but I'm willing to stick my neck out enough to say that the above example wouldn't be something I'd be horrified to discover about a friend or acquaintance. A lot of media stars teenage characters, it's just the reality of what we consume, and when people consume media, people ship the characters, it just happens.)

But what if you didn't actually care that they were teenagers, in your heart of hearts? What if you just...didn't like the ship, because you shipped one of them with somebody else, or you headcanon that one of them is gay, or straight, or ace, or whatever? But you're sick of seeing this stupid ship everywhere, and has anyone even considered the fact that these characters are minors? In a sense, by shipping them, you're s*xualizing minors. So in a sense, anyone who likes this ship is okay with s*xualizing minors. So in a sense, anyone who likes this ship is okay with p*dophelia. So in a sense, anyone who likes this ship is a p*dophile. And now, you can hate that ship openly and rather than being an asshole who's ruining people's day, you're a crusader for morality.

You are morally good. You are protecting the internet from nastiness.

Okay, now for my disclaimers, because I'm a fearful netizen!

Now I want to be very clear and say that I'm NOT suggesting that this is secretly the reason why anyone hates any ship. Plenty of ships are nasty for all sorts of reasons. Though I would encourage readers to consider whether that nastiness is grounds for a call-out rather than simply blacklisting it.

Also, some people have strong negative reactions to ships that might seem unproblematic or at least not that awful for reasons that aren't just "it goes against my headcanon" or "I'm lawfully married to Kaveh how dare you". Some people might see real life trauma reflected in ship dynamics that aren't inherently "gross" to other people.

Basically, I want to acknowledge that this is a specific look at a specific subsection of shipping purity culture, and I'm not claiming to examine every potentiality of the issue with complete nuance. But I do want to assert that this is a nuanced issue, and encourage people to discuss it with each other in good faith, not assuming that the other party is intentionally ignoring a perspective or trying to harm or silence another group.

[backhurtyy]

🗣 heyyyy bestie <333

🗣️Talk about your favourite WIP

my favorite wip is, of course, my beloved my beloathed my best friend my worst enemy my silly rabbit my sweet cheese... shattered edges glistening. think of this fic as a love letter to reki, a vent about chronic pain, an ode to people who never feel like they're enough just the way they are, a (most likely) 35k+ epic about learning how to accept help, and a shit load of projection onto fictional characters. it's got everything; matchablossom, renga, shadoka, oka being the best person in the entire world, reki bonding with each person individually, ptsd, adam slander, hurt/comfort, first kisses, reki being an unreliable narrator, the sk8 fam showering reki in love, and so many medical inaccuracies!

i just love this fic so much because of like. what it means to me, but also because it's really pushed me to become a better writer and to try and figure out how to put something like chronic pain into words. i definitely think its a very emotional story, and hopefully people feel the same once it's done and published, whenever that may be. for now, it's sitting comfy at 27k words, with a few more scenes to go. so hopefully sometime soon. i would love to not spend two years working on this thing lmao... anyways have a snippet, because ily <3

There was another quiet rustle and Reki could almost imagine Langa, laying on his side with his blankets pulled up to his chin and his phone trapped between his pillow and his face. “So, do you want me to talk, or you can, or we can just sit in silence…”

Reki was quiet for a moment as he thought, listening to the way Langa’s quiet breathing fit in between his own so that there was never a silent second between them, and the knot loosened further. His lips twitched ever so slightly. “I think I just want to sit here quietly with you, if that’s alright?”

“Of course,” Langa said. “Whatever you need.”

[tangledmovielove]

Why Tangled Means So Much to Me, and How the Series Changed Everything

The original Tangled movie will always hold a special place in my heart. Being born in Hanau, the birthplace of the Brothers Grimm, their fairy tales were a big part of my childhood, and Rapunzel’s story was one of my favorites. In 2010, when I was 11, I discovered that Disney was making an adaptation of this beloved fairy tale. As a Disney fan, I couldn’t have been more excited.

That summer, while on holiday in Austria, I visited a fairy tale pathway with a Rapunzel tower. It became my favorite attraction, sparking even more excitement for the movie. A few days later, while watching Toy Story 3 in the cinema, I saw the Tangled trailer for the first time. Although I noticed changes to the original tale, I was still eager to see Disney’s take on the story.

When the movie came out in December 2010 in Germany, my family and I were going through a tough time. Listening to the Tangled story on CD became a source of comfort. I fell in love with the characters, especially Rapunzel and Flynn. Their bond, built on trust, sacrifice, and mutual respect, was so inspiring.

In January 2011, I got the soundtrack CD and couldn’t stop listening to “When Will My Life Begin” and “I See the Light.” When I finally watched the full movie on DVD for my 12th birthday, it left a lasting impression. No other movie had ever moved me so deeply. Rapunzel and Flynn became my favorite couple of all time, and Rapunzel herself became my favorite Disney princess along with Ariel.

Over the years, I continued to adore the movie. In 2012, I watched Tangled Ever After and thought it was the perfect ending. In 2014, I even got to meet Rapunzel at Disneyland Paris—a dream come true. Around that time, my friends started calling me "Rapunzel" because of my similar personality. The movie and its characters helped me through challenging times, especially when I had to change schools. Writing my own Tangled stories became a creative outlet.

But then, in 2017, everything changed. The Tangled series was released, and it destroyed everything I loved about the movie and my favorite couple. I had feared it might ruin things when it was announced in 2015, but I couldn’t have imagined how much.

The series sidelined Flynn, my favorite Disney male character, and introduced Cassandra, who dominated the story in a way that felt unnecessary. Worst of all was the rejection of Flynn’s marriage proposal in the very first episode. Rapunzel, who was willing to sacrifice her freedom and life for Flynn at the end of the movie, suddenly viewed marriage as a prison.

This storyline made no sense to me. If one partner rejects marriage while the other wants it, the relationship simply doesn’t work. Marriage is about mutual love and commitment, and the series seemed to dismiss this in favor of an abstract concept of "freedom."

It hurt to see Flynn constantly sidelined and mistreated, with Rapunzel keeping secrets, rejecting his proposals, and even drawing his face on a punching bag. In a healthy relationship, both partners’ wishes and feelings matter, but the series showed Flynn always giving in while Rapunzel didn’t compromise.

In 2018, while analyzing a book in school, I noticed a character who rejected marriage like Rapunzel ended up cheating on their partner. This reinforced my belief that the series’ message was flawed and unrealistic.

By 2019, I had given up on Tangled entirely. I couldn’t love a couple where one partner viewed commitment as a trap. For years, I tried to move past it, but the frustration lingered.

In 2023, I decided to revisit Tangled and remind myself why I loved it in the first place. I realized that, since it’s fictional, I don’t have to accept the series as canon. I began writing my own fanfiction to portray Rapunzel and Flynn the way I imagined them.

Reading the original Petrosinella and Brothers Grimm versions of the fairy tale helped me reconnect with the story. In these versions, Rapunzel accepted her prince’s proposal immediately, seeing marriage as a way to escape confinement and find happiness.

I’ve also started this blog to express my thoughts and turn my frustration into something creative. I’ve lost the fear of sharing my opinion, even if some fans disagree. Tangled meant so much to me for so many years, and I’m reclaiming my love for the movie and characters in my own way, even though it's still hard to find a way to still enjoy it without thinking about the series.

To me, Rapunzel and Flynn’s love story should be about mutual respect, trust, and commitment. That’s the story I’ll continue to celebrate.

[alyssalikestoreadbooks]

A Thousand Boy Kisses - Tillie Cole

"One kiss lasts a moment. But a thousand kisses can last a lifetime. One boy. One girl. A bond that is forged in an instant and cherished for a decade. A bond that neither time nor distance can break. A bond that will last forever. Or so they believe.

When seventeen-year-old Rune Kristiansen returns from his native Norway to the sleepy town of Blossom Grove, Georgia, where he befriended Poppy Litchfield as a child, he has just one thing on his mind. Why did the girl who was one half of his soul, who promised to wait faithfully for his return, cut him off without a word of explanation? Rune's heart was broken two years ago when Poppy fell silent. When he discovers the truth, he finds that the greatest heartache is yet to come."

Read Date - November 2024

Length - 336 pages

Genre - Fantasy, Animal Fiction, Action

Rating - 6/10

Stars - ★★★☆☆

Notes - I like how the book starts out with the boys point of view. Poppy and Rune make such a cute friendship. I can't explain it but i love how cute they are together, and i like how it sets up their relationship. Poppy's grandmother dying is a somber scene, and i think its played out well with poppy not understanding what's happening. Her grandmother gives her the thousand boy kisses jar, and her first entry was Rune. It was cutely set up, and i liked it. The time skip was a bit jarring for me because i was still imagining them as YOUNG kids. The reveal that Rune has to move away from Georgia and leave poppy behind was tough. He's only 15 so he has no say in the matter. The sex scene was sensual and soft, especially for minors. I don't necessarily LIKE when people write about people under the age of 16 sleeping together, but also, minors aren't chaste and it's not my place to shame anyone. For me it's actually harder to connect with these characters. I'm introduced and I'm shown their relationship, but I'm not given any reason to root for them. It all happens so fast, including the sex scene, and it's all very unexpected to me. Jumping to the future establishes our current issue of: Poppy ghosted him and now Rune is coming back to America and they have to talk face to face. It's a toughie. Rune changing while being in Norway was an interesting character development that i wasn't expecting. He comes back to America at 17, and he's just a different person. Poppy doesn't know if she truly loves him anymore, or at least, who he's become. The confrontation scene between Rune and Poppy was tense and emotional. The reveal that Poppy had cancer and didn't want to tell him is so shocking and sad. She didn't want to hurt him, so she ghosted him. The talk of Rune having to grieve while Poppy is still alive is really hard. He can't cope with the fact that she's dying but poppy has already accepted it. Seeing Rune struggle with behavioral issues is also very interesting to me because i think its written accurately. there's a cause and a trigger, and it causes outbursts. it's something that can be worked through. Watching him change as he interacts with poppy more is also fascinating. He wants to be better for her, and he's working to be a better person to him family, and to his little brother. The plane ride kisses were so sweet and I'm FINALLY INVESTED. it took me forever but i finally get it. The entire New York City trip was sweet, but it's sad that Rune felt he can't do much after poppy dies because it was something they do together. Rune finally breaking apart and coping with poppy dying took forever, but it made sense that it took him time. The return back is so emotional, and her collapsing and Rune carrying her is so shocking. It made me tear up. Rune's father trying to comfort him in his own way at the hospital was kind. They've got a tense relationship but it was sweet. Mr. Litchfield, Poppy's fathers words to Rune were so amazing. Him supporting him and giving him his blessing in lack of a better term-- i love it. a lot. Poppy getting sick and losing the ability to walk was sad. This entire book is sad and somber, obviously. Rune, Ruby, and her other friends getting prom to happen for poppy was amazing. He's become such a good guy, and i love how this is all played out. The footprints in the sand made me cry. I'm spiritual in my own way, and it sticks with me. Her death hits hard out of all the character deaths I've read. The way he counts the kisses past 1000 and finishes the hearts, and the way "my heart completely bursts" changes context with her death made me cry. Hard. I can't believe how hard this book hit me. The letter and package that Poppy created before she died was amazing. It also hits hard, but instead, for Rune. He deserved this closure, or at least, the beginning of grieving. the 1000 girl kisses jar, and her expecting him to move on was unexpected. Rune dying at the end was somber again and i like the way it was handled.

[palant1r]

does fiction affect reality? my answer.

the fact that so much of The Discourse revolves around the question "does fiction affect reality" is insane to me. imagine if we had arguments over "are people good or bad" and you had to pick "fundamentally good" or "fundamentally bad" and that one choice became shorthand for all your views on people ever. like, you guys do realize that the relationship between fiction and reality is something people have written books about? have written papers about? have dedicated their lives to studying? hell, i spent an entire class studying just how superhero media reflected contemporary images of america over time, and i barely scratched the surface. imagine if you went into like, physics spaces and refused to participate in any discussion before everyone had answered the question "is the cat alive or dead." and whenever someone asked you to clarify the question or explained why both answers are wrong/the question is more complicated than that you accused them of being a pedophile. that's the kind of thing we're dealing with on tumblr/twitter.

i keep seeing people post these "gotchas" about fiction affecting reality, like "if fiction doesnt affect reality explain the news!" or "if fiction doesn't affect reality why do you jack off to it!" as if proving that one specific instance of fiction affects reality in a specific way naturally means that all fiction affects all reality in whatever way you've determined makes the fiction you don't like Bad. and like...where did that assumption come from? why would one thing naturally follow from the other? like, i hate to say it, but if your perception of fiction and reality are that either fiction and reality have never affected each other OR that bad behavior in fiction means bad behavior in reality and this applies to all fiction always, you straight up are not media literate enough to engage in these conversations.

media literacy is not like, a requirement for being human. i think it makes life richer, but i'm not your dad. if you don't want to develop that skill, cool, no skin off my back. but if you attempt to engage in social justice as it pertains to media and fiction, and you do not have a basic toolset of media literacy, you WILL hurt people. and once you hurt people, your ignorance becomes everyone else's problem.

Conclusion: stop thinking about a very complex topic with its own fields of study in black and white "gotcha" terms, or you will hurt people and dumb down the discourse when you attempt to engage in social justice pertaining to fiction

[wrestlersownmyheart]

Secrets and Stakes Ch. 1 (Damian Priest x Female Reader)

Pairing: Damian Priest X Female Reader Summary: Damian Priest holds a secret. A secret that not nobody knows the truth about. The WWE is full of vampires. AEW is full of Werewolves. When the two companies clash and his lifemate becomes a pawn, he must protect her with his life.

Disclaimers: I own nothing or anyone associated or affiliated with WWE. I own only the original characters. This is just a fictional story that came from my imagination.

Content/Trigger Warnings: Violence and blood

Note: I will be including some scenes from the May 30th 2022 episode of RAW in this chapter, but I’m not doing it verbatim. So bear with me please LOL.

Also, this story will be mostly done in Y/N’s POV, but once in a while like if she’s unconscious or something like that there will be parts that are in Damian’s POV.

Hopefully this will be enjoyed. I'm not entirely sure where it's going yet, but it'll be fun to see! It is a bit different from stuff I’ve normally written (the way it is written anyway), so bear with me please!

Chapter 1

Reader’s POV:

My name is Y/N. And this will either be a really long story or a really short story. I’m not sure yet. It just depends on how long it takes me to tell it.

I own my own little boutique in L.A. and have been so blessed to have it. I love helping someone find “just the right dress” for a first date, or even things like a baby’s outfit for its first portrait. Seeing the contented smiles on my customers’ faces makes everything I’ve gone through to get to now, worth it.

As for hobbies, I love music and movies, and I’m a huge wrestling fan. I’ve watched since 2003 when I was about fifteen. Mom and dad hated it though because I came from a Christian family and our beliefs were that that was just too worldly to bother with. But for some reason, I couldn’t help myself. I watched it in secret till I was eighteen and legally able to watch what I wanted. But please, don’t think badly of my parents. They only wanted what was best for me, I know. But wrestling? It wasn’t hurting anyone by watching it. Well, except for maybe the wrestlers that put on the matches. I imagine a chairshot never feels good.

Sadly, my parents passed away when I was twenty. They were killed in a car accident. It was needless to say… very traumatizing. And it took me years to get through my grief. I loved them so much.  I’ve been on my own ever since because I had no other family. 

Wrestling was what kept me sane, really. I never missed an episode of Monday Night RAW, or Smackdown, or even AEW Dynamite and AEW’s other shows as well. I inhaled it basically. I went through a spell of watching TNA as well, but after a few years my favorites went on to bigger and better things, and I lost interest in the company.

That all being said, I was ecstatic when I’d gotten my WWE RAW tickets ordered online. It would be my first wrestling show ever and I was beyond excited. I was a workaholic so I’d never had time to go to a show. But I was taking a vacation, and now had the time to go. I’d picked the tickets up later that week and guarded them with my life. 

And tonight was the night.

I could hardly contain my excitement as I brushed through my hair and began getting ready for the show. I pulled on my clothes–a pair of low-rise jeans and a red RAW t-shirt since I couldn’t decide on a single wrestler’s to wear. Then I began on my minimal makeup. Within an hour, I was completely ready and heading out to my Chevy Blazer so I could get to the Crypto.com Arena.

Traffic was terrible, and I was running a bit late. Late enough to miss the opening dark match. Which didn’t break my heart exactly. It would have been nice to see the entire show, but my favorites were seldom booked for a dark match anyway.

I finally reached the parking garage and parked my Chevy Blazer in its spot, and then climbed out and headed for the elevator. Once I hit the main floor I got out of the elevator and headed for the arena.

I could hear the throngs of people even before reaching the doors. But first, I wanted a soda before heading into the stadium, so I stopped off at the concession stand and bought a diet one.

Minutes later I was in the arena on the second row from the floor, seated next to a blond guy, who looked a little like Logan Paul, with a Brock Lesnar shirt on. Great, I thought, fighting off the urge to roll my eyes. One of those. 

“Hey, you here to see Brock Lesnar too?” He asked, leering at me a bit too long. 

“I think you’ll be sorely disappointed,” I replied blandly. “Lesnar is never where he should be.”

“Ooo, sass…I like it,” the guy tried pathetically to flirt. And there was something about him that gave me the creeps. So I scootched away from him as far as my seat would allow.

“Listen, I’m here to see wrestling,” I tried to be polite so as not to piss him off and make myself a target, but I really wanted to see the matches.

The guy seemed to flush a bit, and I took that as a sign that I’d embarrassed him. Maybe he’ll leave me alone now, I thought to myself.

Seated to my other side, was a little girl of about six years, I’d guess. She was adorable and wore a New Day t-shirt. I smiled at the mother sitting next to her and turned my gaze on the ring. Almost instantly, pyro began going off and the show was beginning. I sat my drink down at my feet and began cheering along with everyone else.

Becky Lynch’s theme began then and she strutted down to the ring, climbing in between the ropes. She got a microphone from the time keeper and began addressing us and the viewers at home. 

“Welcome to the big time! To Monday Night RAW,” Becky said. “It’s been a while since I’ve welcomed you all, but truth be told, I’ve not felt up to it without my title.” Becky went on in her spiel about how she’d literally handed Asuka her title on a silver platter and that it was a mistake because now Asuka thought everything should be handed to her.

Bianca Bel Air came out then and began chewing them both up and spitting them out, so to speak.

Suddenly, the blond guy next to me–he’d left his seat for a few moments–came back and offered me a cup of beer.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink alcohol.” I told him.

“But I just bought it for you.” He nearly argued.

“I’m sorry but I didn’t ask you to,” I replied. “Drink it for yourself.”

Oddly enough, he sat the drink down at his feet and all but ignored it. He was beginning to look pissed.

Great, I thought, for the second time that night.

I turned my attention back on the show and noticed that Bianca and Asuka were having a match while Becky watched from the commentary table. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I could tell she was most definitely talking smack about Bianca and Asuka. And was most likely talking about how she was going to win at the pay-per-view on Sunday.

I switched my gaze from commentary to the actual match and watched as Asuka and Bianca took turns having the upper hand. Finally, Bianca nailed the Kiss of Death on Asuka and rolled her up for the pin.

The crowd counted off the referee’s taps to the canvas.

“1!…2!…3!”

Ding-Ding-Ding!

I watched as Becky made her way back into the ring and attacked Bianca from behind. She quickly hit her with an Exploder Suplex and dumped her out of the ring. 

Well, that will make for an interesting match on Sunday, I thought to myself. I watched then as the arena went black.

Completely black.

Out came Edge on his throne and Damian Priest was by his side with Rhea Ripley on the other side of the throne. The throne itself seemed to sort of glide toward the ramp and then down it a ways. The three climbed into the ring and awaited Liv Morgan for hers and Rhea’s match.

Liv came out next, but not alone. She was quickly joined by both AJ Styles and Finn Bálor. I watched the three climb into the ring as well, to pander to us in the crowd.

Edge and Damian and AJ and Finn all four stepped out of the ring then so that Liva and Rhea could get on with their match. 

It was strange then. I reached down to take a big few gulps of my diet soda–I was thirsty all of a sudden–when some people began running out to the ring from the barricades.

They were wearing AEW hoodies. 

Sounds of confusion waved through the crowd at first and then people began to realize what was happening. AEW was invading.

I watched as hoods came down and the AEW wrestlers were revealed.

Jericho ran at AJ and began beating on him. Nyla Rose grappled with Rhea and Liv together. It seemed that the storylines were forgotten. Edge, Damian and Rhea had allied with Finn, AJ and Liv. They were watching each other’s backs. It was now officially WWE versus AEW. 

“YEAH!” 

Everyone was screaming around me going nuts because some forbidden door had been revealed.

“Yeah BABY!” The blond guy next to me used the distraction as an excuse to flirt with me again. “It’s finally happening!!” He grabbed me up and proceeded to grope me. 

To this my reply was to slap him. “Let go of me, scumbag!”

That may or may not have been my wisest move. He grabbed me by the hair then and growled in my face. “I’ve just about had it with your rudeness. I was nice to you. I bought you a beer, and now you slap me?”

Suddenly, a security guard dressed in a black polo shirt hurried up to us. “Folks, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You just put your hands on each other and I have to enforce our rules. So you both need to come with me.”

“You’re kidding, right?” I asked. “He was groping me!”

“I’m not kidding. You should have flagged down a guard instead of taking matters into your own hands,” He said over all the noise. 

“He was holding on to me, how could I have-”

“Maam, I don’t have time to argue. As you can see I’m actually needed down there.” He motioned with his head to the ring where AEW and WWE were still fighting. Other wrestlers had come out of the locker rooms to join in the fight and even up the odds.

“You’re actually going to kick me out of the arena, when I did nothing wrong?”

“Follow me. We’re done here.”

The guard motioned for you both to get in front of him and start heading up the steps to the exit.

“I can’t believe because of you I’m getting kicked out of a WWE event,” I growled at the guy as I began to stomp my way up the steps. Tears of anger burned my eyes. I was mortified, but I was also upset that I’d miss this event. Not to mention, I had no idea how this whole ordeal with AEW was going to work out. 

“Maybe if you weren’t such a-”

“Quiet. Both of you. I want you both to shut up…”

Strangely enough, everything seemed to move in slow motion from there. I grasped hold of the banister to keep from falling into anyone as I walked up the stairs. I shook my head trying to clear it but that didn’t work. My head was becoming cloudy and it occurred to me that I had possibly been drugged. 

The blond man. He had the opportunity to drug my drink when the lights had all gone out. I was so stupid for drinking from that cup! 

I had enough gumption to pretend everything was fine so the guy wouldn’t suspect anything. If he knew I was feeling the effects of the drug I’d be a sitting duck. However, there was only so “fine” I could portray. 

We headed out of the arena and through the lobby to the elevator. Within minutes we’d reached the garage.

“Now, get in your car and go home. You’re lucky I didn't call the police for a domestic dispute.”

In my muddled state, I realized that the guard thought we were a fighting couple. “Uh… no…” I slurred out, despite my best attempts to speak normally. “I… We’re not…” 

The guard had already disappeared onto the elevator and the doors closed before I could utter anything else. I turned and saw the look of malice mixed with lust on the blond creep’s face. “Looks like it’s just you and me, babe,” he murmured.

I could tell the way he was looking at me, he knew I was high on whatever drug he’d given me.

“Leave me alone,” I said, weakly, and turned to run to my car.

And fell on my face.

“Oopsie Daisy,” he singsonged, and pulled me up by my hair. “Glad that useless guard left. Now we can get to know each other better.”

“Let go of me,” I cried, fighting to stay coherent. I reached up and tried to free my hair from his grasp.  When that didn’t work, I decided to try a headbutt. It connected with his mouth and I felt a tooth dig into the skin near my hairline. Wet warmth instantly began dripping down my temple.

He released me in order to hold his mouth and I took that opportunity to flee. I hurried for my car the best I could, the adrenaline flow clearing my head just enough to realize I needed to put my all into getting away.

“Help me,” I tried to scream but my voice wouldn’t work properly. Most likely whatever was in the drug was affecting my breathing and my ability to verbalize loudly. “Help!” I tried again, as my Blazer came into view. I reached it and immediately dug into my jeans pocket for my keys.

However, I must’ve not been moving as quickly as I thought I was because in the next instant, a pair of hands latched onto my shoulders and flung me around to face my bloody-mouthed assailant.

“Now… You’re gonna pay!” He growled in my face. He grabbed my keys from me and opened up the hatchback, shoved me down into the cargo space and straddled my hips.

Before I could respond, he reached down with his hands and ripped my t-shirt open all the way down the front of it.

“Stop it!” I cried, grabbing for his wrists to hold him off. But he simply slapped me across the face. The force of the slap sent my head reeling to the side. Fire bloomed up my cheek. 

I reached up and raked my nails down his face, fragments and small chunks of skin collected underneath my fingernails and I took satisfaction in that as he howled in pain. If I ended up dead his DNA would be on me and he’d hopefully be caught so he couldn’t do this to another woman.

“YOU’RE SO DEAD!” He drew his fist back and punched me on the jawline.

Dazed, I momentarily went limp against the floor of my car. I felt him begin working on the button of my jeans then and I managed to begin struggling again. “Why do you keep fighting me,” He demanded. “You were practically asking for this the whole time!”

Looking back on the ordeal, I realized he couldn’t have meant I literally asked for it, because nothing could be further from the truth. But at that moment, my head wasn’t working right and all I could do was sob out a pathetic, weak “No”.

Suddenly, the creep was dragged off me by a blur of a force. I weakly raised up to find a man, beating on the blond man and cursing him for “treating a woman that way”. The beating was so rapid and severe that the creep didn’t even manage to lift a finger. It wasn’t a fair fight, to be honest, but I didn’t care.

Another moment later, my assailant was lying limp on the concrete.

I shakily managed to stand to my feet, and turned toward my car, my hand sliding over the floor in search of my keys. I needed to get out of there. Fast.

“Your keys…” a very bass-pitched voice spoke from behind me. “If they’re what you’re searching for–are here.” I heard the jingling of said keys and turned around to face who I hoped  had just saved my life.

I looked up at my rescuer, and took an initial step back.

I knew who he was.

Damian Priest. The wrestler. Standing right in front of me. He was still dressed in his all black vest and pants. His long black hair was in a disarray either from the fight here or in the ring, I wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.

I gasped and took another step back, colliding with the back of my Blazer.

“Don’t be afraid,” he uttered, his already onyx-colored eyes going darker. “I won’t hurt you.” He held my keys out to me, “Here… But, please. You’re in no condition to drive. Let me get you home where you’ll be safe.”

“I…” My lip trembled, and I bit it to make it stop. I looked down at my attacker. He hadn’t moved. “Is he dead?”

His lips twitched slightly as if fighting off a smile. He glanced down at the man for only a second and then turned his gaze back on me as if I was the only thing that mattered at that point. “No, but I imagine he’ll wish he was when he wakes up.” 

The shock of my attack and the effects of the drug was still weighing heavily on me. “I’m afraid,” I managed to slur out.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, cariña. I promise.” His hand stayed out, reaching toward me, my keys still within his fingers. 

Could I trust him?

I reached out slowly. Took his hand and my keys simultaneously.

And the second I touched his skin, what felt like a powerful bolt of lightning went through me, and everything went black…

}i{}i{}i{}i{}i{

Damian’s POV

Once the AEW wrestler’s were cleared out of the ring and banned from the arena, the show went on as if nothing had happened. Rhea had her match with Liv, and Edge and I watched to make sure everything went as planned.

Only it didn’t. Still ruffled from the AEW attack, I”m sure, Rhea got pinned after several minutes and after eating an ObLIVion. Frustrated, Edge, and Rhea went back to the locker rooms to get their things and head back to the hotel. Mine were already left in my room at the hotel so I began making my way to the lobby so I could hit the elevator.

Before I’d even pushed the call button, I heard the sound of a distressed female coming from the garage. I also…smelled blood.

“Screw the elevator,” I mumbled, and ran for the stairs. I hurried down three flights of steps when the smell of blood grew even stronger. I knew I was on the right level. I ran through the garage and followed the sounds of soft cries and an unmistakable slap. A second later, I heard, “YOU’RE SO DEAD!” and then “Why do you keep fighting me? You were practically asking for this the whole time!”

Hearing enough I followed the sound of the male voice till I found a man straddling a woman in the back of an SUV. Instantly, I charged at him and yanked him off her. 

There was no contest, I had the man unconscious with the first punch, but I gave him several more hits just for the sake of my own satisfaction. Expletives flew from my mouth as I beat him. “You don’t treat women that way!” I growled. He fell limp to the concrete when I finished with him.

I heard a flurry of movement behind me and turned to see the woman scurrying about looking for something. My eyes fell on her keys in her attacker’s hand and I snatched them up. “Your keys… If they’re what you’re searching for–are here.” I spoke as softly as possible so as not to frighten her worse. She jolted and faced me. She was stunning despite the blood running down the side of her face. I guess I’d failed at not scaring her. She took a step back and held onto her car to stay upright. Something was off. I could smell a drug on her. Something told me it wasn’t a drug she’d willingly taken either.

“Don’t be afraid. I won’t hurt you.” I said. I held her keys out to her. “Here… But please, you’re in no condition to drive. Let me get you home where you’ll be safe.”

“I…” Her chin trembled, and I could see she was having trouble deciding whether she could trust me or not. She looked down at her attacker. “Is he dead?”

I tried not to smile as I too glanced down at the lowlife. “No, but I imagine he’ll wish he was when he wakes up.” 

“I’m afraid,” she slurred out. 

She looked as if she was ready to drop. I had to get her to safety. Soon.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, cariña. I promise.” I kept my hand out hoping against hope that the beautiful young woman would believe me and take my hand.

She slowly reached out and took her keys and touched my fingers at the same time. 

What happened next, neither of us was expecting. 

Fire went through me and sent me to my knees. I couldn’t help but notice the woman went unconscious and fell toward the concrete. Somehow overcoming the powersurge, I lunged forward and caught her, turning so I was the one to hit the pavement. I cradled her head to protect it and laid against the concrete for a moment.

I’ve found my lifemate, I thought. The “powersurge”–as we vampires had come to call it–was proof of that. And I didn’t even know her name.

I turned my attention back to her. “Cariña? Sweetheart?” I jostled her gently trying to rouse her.

Her eyes were closed and she’d gone pale. She was out cold.

The shock of what she’d gone through paired with the effects of the powersurge had taken their toll on her.

Resign up to a sitting position, I gently laid her aside till I could climb to my feet and lift her up. I cradled her against my chest and carried her limp frame to my rental where I gently deposited her onto the backseat. Then I was climbing into the driver’s seat and speeding for my hotel. I didn’t know where else to take her. And all I knew was that I was not letting her out of my sight. I’d gone a hundred years…. Thinking that I was a lone wolf, so to speak. Well no more. 

Any desires I’d had for other women were gone. The need for a one-night-stand–sometimes with multiple women–was gone. 

I had my lifemate now. Whether she liked it or not. 

She was mine.

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