#none of the human characters are attractive enough for me

[quadrupleangst]

Just letting everyone know I'm only gonna be playing ZZZ for the cute wolf guy ok 🙄

[fruittt-punchhh]

Pop My Cherry!

all parts

Synopsis: your dad’s best friend is none other than Toji Fushiguro, and you can’t help but wonder what he could do with his hands.

Characters: Toji Fushiguro x reader. Choso Kamo is mentioned, not a major part of the story.

Content: Minors Do Not Interact! afab! reader, fem! reader, dad’s best friend! Toji, suggestiveness, cursing, inexperienced (ish) reader, reader is a virgin but has done things ya know, reader smokes weed, alcohol usage, pet/affectionate names, no smut yet 🫶

Word Count: 2.2k-ish

Notes: friends!!! This is my first ever smut! Pls be nice🫶 if you have any suggestions, comments, advice, PLEASE feel free to let me know!! I hope you enjoy hehe. (filthy smut if you’re down for that in pt. 2 trust) excuse any typos, proofread a bunch but I’m also human. 💖

It had been a terribly long week already, and it was only Thursday. You were on spring break from university, and you had spent most of the week catching up on overdue assignments.

You were staying with your father, as well as your brother, and your father’s best friend. He had a condo at the beach that wasn’t too far from your university, so it worked out well.

You had just finished your final essay for philosophy 200, closing your laptop with a snap! as you rub your eyes. It was nearing 3:30 a.m. but you still felt so much residual stress from the paper. You had a joint ready and waiting for you, and a hit or two couldn’t hurt, right? Enough so you could relax, maybe grab a snack, and hit the hay. You open your bedroom window, creeping out onto the balcony to let your worries fade away.

————————————————————————

You throw your leg over the window sill, trying to keep your balance. You lowkey had the munchies so you head to the kitchen before you retire for the night. Until you are met with a surprise.

Your father’s friend (you think his last name was Fushiguro?) has been gone all week for “work”. You noticed him coming in at odd hours of the night, looking worse for wear.

“What are you starin’ at, doll?” Toji says as he looks for a shirt in the laundry room.

You feel your cheeks turn red as you try to quickly avert your eyes. You wore nothing but a large t-shirt as you crept into the kitchen, hoping you wouldn’t wake your father.

You thought you heard Toji come in maybe an hour earlier, but you couldn’t know for sure. Here he stood, fresh out of the shower with nothing but a small towel wrapped around his waist. His dark hair was dripping down his back and he still looked as if he was radiating heat from the shower he just took (or was that you?) It was all of a sudden much too warm in the kitchen for your liking.

“S-sorry, I was just grabbing a snack. I’ll be quick,” you stammer. You had only ever seen Toji a few times, and you didn’t remember him to be this… attractive? You didn’t know if that was even the right word. In this moment, you felt attracted to him, sure. But you also felt small and helpless. As if he could pierce through you with his gaze alone. You truly didn’t mean to stare, but you also didn’t expect anyone else to be in the kitchen at 4 a.m., either.

He interrupts you with a smirk, “What’s the rush? It’s y/n, right? Grab me a beer out of the fridge while you’re at it, girl”

If you thought your cheeks couldn’t be any redder, you were wrong. You felt the crimson blush cover your ears as you turned around to look for a beer in the fridge. There was a (beer brand here) in the back on the bottom shelf. You tried to bend at your knees as to be discreet, but you could have sworn you heard Toji clearing his throat as you did so.

Toji slipped on a pair of black boxer briefs as you grabbed him a beer like the sweet girl you are. He felt as if the wind was knocked out of him when he saw you bend down, searching the fridge for his drink. Call him crazy, but he could’ve sworn you weren’t wearing any panties. He quickly ran the towel through his hair, trying to ignore the rush of blood he felt surging to his dick.

You grabbed the beer, as well as an apple for yourself. You walked over to Toji, and he took the beer from you with a ‘thanks’. He popped off the cap with his molars and took a big swig. You watched as the beer dripped down his chin and over his adam’s apple. You also noticed the scar covering his pretty lips.

Your eyes wandered as he finished his beer surprisingly quickly. He would usually come home covered in a mixture of dirt, sweat, and sometimes blood. Apparently, underneath the dirt and grime was a body that was sculpted by the gods. Everything about him was so big. His huge tits pecs and his ripped abdomen. His biceps were bigger than your head and his hands, oh god, his hands. They were riddled with callouses and he had short, bitten nails. His fingers were so thick and you started to imagine what it would be like to feel them on your body.

Your temperature rose as the lewd thoughts entered your mind. This is your father’s best friend! Although he was a a few years younger than your dad, he was still much too old for you. Not only that, but you were still (unfortunately) a virgin. And not for a lack of trying! You were double majoring in psychology and philosophy, so most of your limited leisure time was spent smoking to relax, or hanging out with your small group of friends on the weekends. Sure, you had masturbated plenty of times, and you’ve given the occasional blowjob. But you’ve never quite found the right person at the right time to go all the way with. You never cared much about the label ‘virgin’ until now, feeling like you might have been missing out.

Now, you were standing in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning thinking about what this man could do to you with just his fingers. The thought alone had you squeezing your thighs together, trying to give yourself any relief from the problem you’ve created.

“You know it’s rude to stare, right y/n? Especially after I asked you a question, doll”

Yet again, he’s caught you off guard. I mean seriously, how old were you? You felt like a teenage boy who had just seen his first pair of tits. You need to pull yourself together so you can get out of here as soon as possible. You didn’t know how long you would be able to hold it together without making it quite obvious that internally, you were aching.

“Shit, I’m sorry! I was lost in a train of thought, I-I guess. What was the question?” Hopefully he doesn’t catch on to your half-lie.

Toji pulls a black compression tee over his torso, giving you a moment to collect yourself finally. He throws the beer in the trash and steps into the light of the kitchen alongside you.

He flashes a toothy smile at you, “You should watch that language. Pretty girls don’t go around saying things like that. And I asked you what the hell you were doing up so late.”

Pretty girls? Did you hear him correctly? He could just be saying things to get you to squirm, and if that was his goal, it was working all too well. You hope his smile was out of politeness, but you knew enough about Toji from your father to know that this man did not have a polite bone in his body. It seemed almost as if he was teasing you?

“S-Sorry about the language, I’m just tired. I’ve been working on my philosophy paper for the last few hours and I just wanted a snack before I went to bed,” you admitted truthfully.

Toji rolled his eyes, smirking at your statement, “God, that sounds so fucking boring. I’m surprised you finished it, I woulda given up hours ago.”

You smiled at his honesty. You knew that your paper topic ‘the perception of personal space’ and your other assignments on morals and judgement were not everyone’s cup of tea. “It’s actually quite interesting, it’s about the concept of how one perceives personal space, but I definitely wanted to call it quits a few times. I’m just glad I can sleep in tomorrow.” You admit with a grin. Despite his blasé attitude, a part of you thought he might actually be listening (at least a little bit).

All he heard was bla bla bla. It seems interesting enough, if you have absolutely nothing else going on in your life. How could you even write two sentences on personal space, let alone an essay? “If it’s that fucking interesting, then why are you in here looking like a walking corpse? Have you seen those bags under your eyes? You need the sleep more than I do, hun.”

Well damn. You didn’t think it was that bad, especially not enough for some old man to point out. You had been staying up most nights trying to catch up on your work, and you could sleep in anyways. But each morning you found yourself awake at 7 a.m. on the dot, still cursed by the rigidity of your usual school routine.

“I’ve just been behind, so I’m trying to catch up while I have the free time.”

Toji peers at you and scratches his head, “Why the fuck are you doing school work on spring break, anyway? Aren’t ya’ supposed to be at the beach getting wasted with your girlfriends?”

While you admit that would be fun, there was just no time for it this year. You were in the last semester of your senior year, and you were graduating with top honors. You had to keep up the good work so you could hopefully be accepted into graduate school in the fall.

“I mean it’d be fun sure, but smoking is more my thing anyways. I like relaxing after all my work is done, so I’d rather stay here and get caught up while I can, ya’know?”

How cute. Look at you trying to be a good little student. It would almost be admirable if it didn’t make his stomach churn at how sickly sweet it was.

“That’s good, doll. Keep it up and you’ll be making big bucks just like me, yeah? What are you wanting to go to school for anyways, to be a fuckin’ therapist or some shit?”

Everyone thought you wanted to be a therapist, but truth be told, that profession couldn’t be more off your radar. You had enough problems of your own to deal with, and you certainly didn’t need to hear other people’s on top of that.

“I’m not going to school to be a therapist actually; I really want to be a professor one day. What do you do for work anyways? You always look like you just came home from war or some-“

He cuts you off before you can land a joke at his expense. Toji’s profession wasn’t the best topic for conversation, given that his line of work was very hush-hush.

“You’re cute. Next question.”

Cute?? At this point you felt like he was toying with you. But you did have another question for him.

“How come I can’t say ‘shit’ but you can say whatever you want? I’m grown, aren’t I?”

Toji shifted towards you. You stood in the door frame between the kitchen and the hallway, your apple untouched. You were too busy thinking of what to say next to the large, burly man that was suddenly peering over you. He came to the doorframe, throwing one hand on top of it. At this point, he was towering over you. His shadow cascading over you as you felt yourself shrink into the background. Toji glared at you with his velvet green eyes and a smug grin was plastered across his face. You felt his hand grasp your chin, forcing you to look up at him. Your neck was strained as you attempted to make eye contact with the taller man.

“Can’t you hear woman? I said pretty girls don’t go around saying shit like that. Do I look like a pretty girl to you?��� He says as he inches closer to your face. You could smell the beer wafting from his mouth. But the smell was quickly overrun by the rest of him. He smelled like pine, cheap liquor, and…cinnamon? Suddenly, the grip on your chin tightens. His hands are so large, he’s even starting to squish your cheeks, making you look like an absolute fool underneath him.

“I asked you a question, princess.”

The name throws you off guard, but for some reason, you’re not upset.

“S-sorry, no y-you don’t look like a pretty girl. Of course not, m-my bad.”

“That’s what I thought, y/n.”

Toji spits as he releases his grasp on you, standing straight and stretching his arms as he lets out a yawn. He smelled the weed all over you and could tell how flustered you got from your little interaction. He grabs the apple from your hand, taking a huge bite which in turn means you only have about half an apple left. He hands you back your snack, pats your head then saunters over to the couch, plopping down with a grunt. He grabs the remote and turns it to some wrestling show he always watched.

You look at him, confused. You weren’t even staring this time. You were simply dumbfounded at the interaction you two just had. Surely that can’t be it, right? He’s just going to watch tv after he had you literally in the palm of his hand? (and he ate half of my fucking apple)

You move to turn the lights off, and you put your apple in the trash. Your appetite for food was long gone. You quietly walk out of the kitchen into the dim hallway. Toji calls your name, startling you.

“Sleep tight, doll.”

pt. 2

[dilfs-bitch]

Ralnga' | Neteyam (NSFW)

Pairing: Neteyam Te Suli x Fem Omatikaya reader

Word count : 5k

Summary: You do everything in your power to get out of an arranged marriage, but it ends up arousing the fury of the Omatikaya prince.

Warnings: Characters inexperienced, p in v sex, degradation kink, angst, arranged marriage, dom Neteyam (slightly) rough sex, hair pulling, biting, some mentions of blood, use of the word bitch in a derogatory sense, choking, aged up Neteyam ( 22) dirty talk, nsfw.

Sorry if there are any spelling mistakes. English is not my first language.

Image its not mine, credits to the ower.

The golden child of the Sully family.

The prince of the Omatikaya clan who left unmated females breathless every time he strutted through the village with the swagger of a future chief.

The passionate gazes and sighs of many who once dreamed of being his future Tsahik, yet that fate has been forced upon you since you were a child.

Everyone in the clan knew who his future mate would be, and yet many didn't seem to care especially since he reached adulthood, his slender body now had so much muscle, his voice was much deeper and more authoritative, his once youthful face now had features of a man, who was wanted wherever he went except for you.

That wanted since the day your parents decided that arranged marriage would be good for the clan, that before the ceremony, Neteyam would fall in love with someone who would make him give up that engagement.

But a warrior as noble as he would never do that.

That's how that ugly feeling grows inside you towards him, it was no longer enough to be forced into an arranged engagement, your hopes of getting rid of it slowly died every day because he never seemed to be interested in anyone, because he was always focused on perfectly executing every task he was given, focused on being so kind and affectionate whenever he was with you.

Just the thought made you snort impatiently rolling your eyes, such a human gesture learned from Kiri having your whole life been so close to the Sully's, adoring each one of them like your own family, except the eldest son.

Maybe that was even why the elders thought that arranged marriage would be profitable, but did that have to be him? Even Lo'ak being your future mate seemed like a better idea, it sure was, the boy was much more fun, cheeky, cocky when he needed to be, butted heads with anyone just like his father, but Neteyam? He was so dull, always serious and moody, taking anyone's orders without hesitation, always so kind and what fun was that?

Certainly none for you who never wanted a mate and much less a man like him.

Sometimes you even wondered if you were the problem considering how many Na'vi wanted to mate with him. Maybe Neteyam even had its attractions, but that anger you've felt since learning you'd be mated to him clouded your judgment of him.

“ Yawne ? ” Are you listening to me? “. He says, his big hand squeezing your shoulder gently.

“ I was lost in my thoughts, what did you say? “

Neteyam's brows furrow, and his ears flatten, his gaze lingering on your face which has a visibly annoyed scowl and he swallows hard at the thought that this was his fault, although now a gentle smile adorns his face when he pushes those thoughts away by convincing himself that the day has just been tiring so far.

His heart flutters in his chest at the familiar warmth of your hand now against his, so small in comparison to his own. “ Meet me today, at our spot after the eclipse Yawne ”

Our spot was a small waterfall he found a few years ago, deep in the forest, the place is breathtakingly beautiful, one of the most beautiful places you'd ever seen in the vast forest that surrounded you since was a child, but spending time with Neteyam there it was almost torturous and yet you smile nodding satisfied the man in front of you who smiles proudly leaving a soft kiss on the top of your forehead before walking away from the area where you collected herbs to Tsahik.

His breathing is heavy with each agilely step he takes, his braids swaying back and forth clouding his vision for mere seconds each time his heels hit the sandy ground beneath his feet.

His fist is clenched so tightly that his knuckles are almost white with anger, which bubbles up in his chest at once again being left waiting.

Because he waited during the entire eclipse until the rays of sunlight began to illuminate the running water that flowed down from the great mossy rocks of that waterfall that day he found deep in the forest.

Neteyam still remembered exactly how he found that place

Sweat trickled from his hairline in Pandora's heat, his mouth was dry and his body begged to go back to the village.

The soft moss that grew on the ground gave some kind of comfort to the soles of his feet that ached for he had been going deeper into the forest for so long clinging to some thread of hope that that day he would finally find a special place so that he could take his mate there.

Just the thought of her made a genuine smile appear on his face and his heart pounding in his chest that suddenly seemed to beat at a much stronger frequency when he saw the waterfall in front of him, it was the most beautiful place he had ever seen, on the rocks grew species of plants he had never seen, such an intense blue was the perfect contrast with the green of the plants that surrounded the lake of warm water that was drunk by several hexapedes, it was as beautiful as Y/n and he was sure she would love that place.

After so many days, it was worth get in deeper into the jungle just to find the perfect spot for her.

The thought made his stomach churn, his anger now redirected towards himself.

How could he have been so foolish all these years? Always pushing himself harder than he should, always hunting the biggest Sturmbeest and cooking for you the best meal, weaving the prettiest jewelry and clothes and all that to be thanked with a not-so-convincing smile and yet, he pushed those feeling away of ingratitude that sank his chest settling for whatever you gave him.

There were so many nights where he waited in that place only for you to apologize the next day saying you were too busy at Tsahik's tent, and each time he forgave you with a smile on his face, but the lack of apologies this time in the next morning left him fed up with everything.

The words were stuck in his throat, stealing his breath, begging to be said when he stepped in the entry of your tent.

His ears twitch at the sound of your familiar laugh, on other days it would warm his heart, but now the sound of your laughter curls inside him conjured daggers so sharp that left his heart bleeding, sunk in the sadness of your coldness of not even caring if he was still alive, the rage now succumbs to his body dilating his nostrils leaving behind any trace of that kind and attentive Neteyam that now disregards any kind of education entering your hut abruptly without bothering to greet Ya'nut and Tun'ti who quickly feel the tension in the air leaving you two alone the.

“ I'm so- ”

" Be quiet " He snaps before you can finish your sentence, close the flap of your tent and turning to glare at you, his lips a thin line. “ I'm tired of you looking down on me even when I've tried all these years to make myself a good potential mate, but that stops today”.

Your hands stop arranging the herbs and medicines along the shelf that Neteyam himself had made, the words have barely left his lips, and your heart is racing, beating desperately in happiness against the chest, the corner of your lips has a smile from the sudden relief that takes over your body it's like Eywa has finally heard your prayers all those years getting you out of that arranged marriage.

The feeling of freedom flowing through your body is so addictive that suddenly confidence rises in your body, quickly abandoning your good girl act that you so graciously pretended to be in front of the entire clan, who was happy with an arranged marriage that barely couldn't wait to mate with the future Olo'eyktan before Ewya.

“ Come, we should tell our parents that you give up then ”

You pass by him trying to hide the smile on your face, but before your hand can reach the knots that close the flap of your tent, your eyes widen and your body is pulled back, an almost desperate scream comes out of your now parted lips with the strong tug on your braids hair.

The sound perked up Neteyam's ears as he smiled, not the gentle smile he always had on his lips it's a sneer, a different kind of smile just like his own features that although he couldn't see it, he swore it was dark, because the cry of pain that leaves your lips ignites a flame in his heart that clouds his own thoughts as he drags you deeper into the hut by your braids, nearly undone by how tightly he's gripping a handful of hair.

His eyes light up and his ears twitch at the sound of your whimpering voice as he stops, forcing your body to kneel on the mat and Neteyam squats down, his muscular body towering over your that seems so small, the sight makes his heart felt like it was crumbling, being crushed under the happiness of finally feeling in control of the situation because now you were the one feeling inferior under his sneering gaze that had his brows furrowed and teeth clenched.

" Give up? No, today I'm going to teach you a lesson Yawne "

You sigh at the sound of his voice, as you take a deep breath through a wave of nausea, swallowing the saliva that pools in your mouth at how suddenly the endearing name now sounds strange on his tongue, it was more like a threat and your body shivers with instant regret for keeping him waiting all night.

An irritated snarl escapes his lips as you try to stand up only to suddenly have your back bumping against the treadmill mat, and your eyes widen at the grip on your throat of his hand making it difficult to breathe, his body muscled now hovering over yours who is cowering from the intense sensation that makes your head spin, the words are stuck in your throat though your mouth opens nothing comes out it's only Neteyam's chuckles in a low, gravelly echo as he loosens his grip on your throat that coughs as you breathe in the air so eagerly.

" St-stop it ". You swallow your saliva, fighting your words, crawling away from him.

But your body quickly goes still, it's a single tear that rolls from your amber eye at the sting that leaves the skin on the back of your thighs itching, your pointy ears ringing from the pain that shoots up your spine with a shivering itch every hair on the back of your neck and you choke on your own spit at the realization that he's given you a few smacks on your thigh.

Your thoughts is clouding as yout body shivers as you feels his hand quickly circling your thin tail, it's an intense sensation of heat flowing through your lower belly as Neteyam lifts the fist that he's curling with your tail lifting your hips up and the scream that was trapped in your throat comes out more like an inaudible moan at the strange but pleasurable sensation that flows through the base of your spine when he growls, his nostrils flaring breathing in your natural scent that suddenly flows throughout the tent, it's so intense that his own pupils dilate leaving only a thin layer of amber in his almost completely black eyes, his heart pounding in his chest as his muscular body curves over your.

" Oh, yes " He hums rubbing his face against the sweat-wet skin of your arched back. “ This whole time and you only feel this way when I'm being rude? ”

You shake your head deny more to yourself than to him, trying to convince yourself that your body's reaction was just the instinct of Na'vi females sensing his potential as a mate, submitting to the urge to breed, nullifying all contempt that you've felt for him your whole life.

However, your breathing is breathless feeling his body pressed so close to yours in that position that felt so intimate, like the intense desire that puts you in a trance to mate with him, it's overwhelming in how suddenly the scent of wet forest that radiates from his body leaves little noises coming out of your parted lips, begging for something you don't know what it is, and the thought of it makes your body tense, trying to slowly pull away from Neteyam's body heat only for him to pull your body back by your tail, your heart pounding in your ears with the shivers of your body totally stunned by the way he keeps his grip.

" Let me go, it hurts " You hiss.

" You're sure? ” He chuckles huskily pulling the base of your tail arching your back even more. " This your bitch in heat scent of yours tells me otherwise "

He sneers, repeating the english words he once heard his father say, but he gasps slightly when he feels you forcing your ass against his groin and he lets out a guttural growl, sliding his hand to your hips to squeeze them hard moving his hips against yours who sighs looking over your shoulder watching his sweaty skin, flushed cheeks, ears down and his facial expression, dark, lustful, that makes your sex clench around nothing begging to be filled by Neteyam that slides his tongue against the skin of your back bucking his hips into yours harder.

And you bite your bottom lip to try to contain the moan stuck in your throat, afraid to admit your own thoughts aloud regarding your future mate who seems so different from the other times turning you on with his overpowering pheromones almost putting you in heat , because now your nipples are hard rubbing against the colorful feathers of your top and it pisses you off, the idea that he's the one making you feel like this makes your stomach churn, not understanding why until a few minutes ago you were beaming with happiness that thought he was going to back out of that engagement, but now the mere thought of it makes the jealousy cloud your vision at the thought of him claiming another woman as his other than you.

“ Teyam please ”

It's with that thought that you give in to your animalistic urges, to want to be claimed by him, to cover your body in his scent and you do this by rubbing your clothed pussy against the growing bulge under the thin wet cloth of his loincloth for his own pre cum, but Neteyam just growls, his hand that was on your waist comes down hard on your ass making that side of your hip tingle and the corners of your eyes water, and he repeats this movement again and again until the blue skin turn an almost purple color, until tears rolls over your face contorted with pain, pleasure and frustration for not understanding why he continues to be so rude, but that's the point.

Neteyam is so bothered to the point of continuous grunt because can't understand why all those years he could only get the pet name to come out of your lips now, when he was being rude, mistreating you, but it leaves him… -so horny that his throbbing cock is begging to be released now from the uncomfortable tightening of his own loincloth.

“ Say that again ” He sighs finally loosening the grip on your tail which is now swinging from side to side.

You say through groans, rubbing yourself against the hardness under his loincloth. “ Please Teyam, please mate with me.”

He closes his eyes, his breathing now heavy still trying to assimilate the fact that his future mate not only repeated the words he order but also said those words that he dreamed so much of hearing from your lips, damn it he dreamed awake so many nights while he waited in that spot.

Neteyam could even imagine it perfectly, the noise of the waterfall and the nocturnal animals of Pandora while you were dressed in that top he had woven for you that only covered your nipple, he could even perfectly imagine the sight of you looking at him through your eyelashes smiling shyly asking him to mate with you, maybe that was even why he got so angry because the last night he planned everything, the place, the fruits and flowers that you loved so much because he felt ready, ready to finally move on that phase of just gentle kisses on your lips, he wanted to mate, wanted to know what it would feel like to be buried so deep inside a woman, inside you.

But now everything looks much better.

" Yes " He growls, shoving his hand between your legs covered, slick with your arousal. “ I'll mate with you here and now, would you like that? ”

“Yes, Teyam, mark me as yours”. You moan, tugging at the band of your loincloth.

Impatient, he groans giving in to his primal desires, tearing the fragile fabric that covers your breasts, the beads that adorned it fall spreading across the mat, your ears twitch feel his warm, large and callused hand on your soft skin, when he starts fondle your right breast. His length twitch uncontrollably with the desire he's always felt to touch them finally come true, it's soft, warm and wet from the sweat trickling down your hairline down your neck disappearing between the valley of your breasts, your cheek now resting against mat, trying to control the sighs that come out of your lips from the pleasure that flows through your belly as you feel him rolling your hard nipples between his fingers, you moan softly pushing your ass into his groin .

Your core pulsing, your neglected clit is aching begging for something more as he tries to pull away, but your tail coil his muscled thighs that makes him cocky, assuming you really are lusting after him to the point your body doesn't want to stay away from his heat even for mere seconds.

" I want more ". You purr, your cunt clenching in anticipation.

He moans in wonder at the purr that vibrates from your chest, his animalistic thrusts clouding any sober thoughts of him as he rips off your loincloth, throwing the tattered cloth to the side, his hands now squeeze your hips as Neteyam rubs his now covered cock hard on your bare cunt making you gasp, whimpering in desperation to feel him inside because just the friction on your clit doesn't seem enough, not enough to control your arousal it seems leave his head spinning, as the room moves swiftly around him, he feels intoxicated by the scent of your, by the moans that come out of your parted lips, you want him as much as he wants you it's with that thought he digs his nail into your hips when he undoes the knot of his loincloth in the base of his tail.

He jolt at the raw friction on his sensitive cock as it springs up slapping against your ass, his stomach churns at the heat flowing through his belly at the sight of his pre-cum leaking the bulbous tip that's the perfect contract with your skin almost purple blue from the smacks.

It's at that moment Neteyam forgets why he was there in the first place, to teach you a lesson, make you respect him, desire him as your future mate, but now he's lost in his own pleasure, watching with his mouth open as the you crawl forward just enough for his cock to now sit between the heat of your thighs, rubbing against your clit as you bucks into his hips back and forth.

He is in pure ecstasy, tilting his head back slightly concentrating on the pleasure that although not what he so badly desires is still better at his own hands, his ears are flat against his head in embarrassment at the memory of all the times he has toched himself in the solitude of his tent after a hard day, relieving his frustrations stroking his cock thinking about what it would be like if it were your small, soft hands doing it, but now he swears this is so much better.

“ Is it good Teyam? “ You ask between moans bringing him back to reality.

He growls between moans and breath breathless" Could be better "

Your heart feels like it's caving in, being crushed under the pressure of the weight of his single word, 'could be better', and he looks at you with furrowed brows, big eyes shining, chuckles in reaction at the mean words that came out of his lips. Neteyam now curves his body over yours once more, rubbing his face against your shoulder before biting hard, making you cry out in pain beneath him stopping your movements because it feels so good your sex tightens around nothing, the moisture trickling down your thigh mixing with his precum making your thighs sticky.

His fangs finally leave your bloodstained skin, his hand finds the base of your tail, gripping it tightly, lifting your hips again, the wetness of your arousal now against the hot skin of his groin, his fingers prods at your slick entrance.

“Clenching so tightly around nothing, did I make you feel like this? “ He asks, a smirk playing on his lips before quickly sliding two fingers into it.

Groaning at your wetness the feel of his fingers inside you that had your brows furrowed trying to crawl, running away from the discomfort, pain his fingers bring and his smirk drops quickly, his heart racing in his chest at the thought that you still haven't had mated to no one, perhaps waiting for the day of the ceremony where you two would become one before Ewya.

“ Who would have thought that you would be waiting to mate only with me ”.

He teases, looking at you with piercing eyes, ramming two fingers even deeper into your slippery cunt which clenches with the pleasurable sensation that replaces the pain before, mixed with the tone he uses to make your back arch even more when you feel him curling his fingers, stroking the inside in a torturously slow rhythm that has all four of your toes curling as a moan escapes your lips, your eyes rolling back in the pleasure that races down your spine as he growls pulling your tail.

“Oh, I-I… it's so good, b-you… fuck, aren't you too? “ You babble, feeling your eyes fill with tears at how good his fingers are.

A high confidence fills him as he hears you say those words, his mind clouding with your loud, desperate moans each time he continues a few more times he pulls them out of you cunt taking his fingers to his mouth, savoring the last of your taste in his tongue. Lifting your hips enough by the grip on your tail lines himself up with your slick entrance so that the tip of his cock against your entrance, instantly thrusting almost his full length into you when that dig your nails into the mat trying to get used to the sensation to finally be filled.

“ You don't think it's that important, do you? ”

For a minute you feel something new blossom in your heart, something that Neteyam has never made you feel before, something like jealousy that makes a snarl leave your lips at the thought that he had become intimate with a woman other than you, the possessiveness has you gripping his forearm scratching his sweaty skin so hard he hisses in pain and pleasure as he starts to thrust into you, setting a lazy rhythm to his thrusts, pushing his pelvis against your ass burying himself deep inside you as possible, before halfway out and filling you up again with his cock.

Just as he remembered listening at that conversation from years ago hidden behind a tree, listening to the things his father and the most skilled warriors talked about when they were drunk, Neteyam committed every word to memory for the day he finally mated with a woman who he was in love, he yearning to gave her as much pleasure as he felt, exactly as he was doing now.

The hard slaps of skin against skin resonating throughout the hut mingled with the pathetic moans of your lips as you grip his forearm tightly shoving your hips into his, he's startled, lips between his teeth to keep from escaping a moan stuck in his throat at your obscene, insistent body language, grinding against him, the squelching noises of your cunt permeating the air.

“ Mmnh… ah, deeper, please Ma' Teyam”. You beg, sighing breathlessly between moaning.

He moans as he feels his cock bumping against your cervix, your body writhing beneath his, his tail swaying back and forth content with the words coming out of your mouth, it seems unreal to hear you call him that while begs him to go deeper, it's so overwhelming that he feels like his heart is going to stop beating any minute because suddenly everything seems too much, its too much to feel you pressing against him sighing between moans that consists only moaning his name when he thrusting into you like the sweetest of songs, mating with him because you want to it and begging for it and so good that his legs almost give out, as he purrs frees his hand from your tail only to bring it down onto your ass in a hard slap.

That screams with the tears that form at the corners of your eyes as the sensation of his now wildly, falter thrusts the walls of your cunt clench around him tighten around him almost becoming too much for him.

“You are mine now”. He whispers in you ear as his hand snakes around to your front so he can grip onto your throat, feeling your breath hitch underneath his fingers when he squeeze down, you whimper in a pathetic display of submission. " Say it "

You shake your head weakly, that would be too much, it would be too much to say when you still didn't want that arranged marriage, you still didn't want that Nateyam, who suddenly seems so attractive, so handsome that the irrational part of you desperately wanted him to be only yours. Tears well up in your eyes from the lack of air, which causes a strange feeling inside you, and you let out a silent cry as your body approaches orgasm with the stimulation of his fingers on your clit.

“ I'm yours, your vonvä ” You gasp. “ Only yours Teyam”

A sick satisfaction washes over Neteyam at your words. Ewya, he knows you'd hate it if he actually knocked you up, but your submission takes him totally over the edge. His hand releases your throat as he fucks you a few more times, a guttural growl coming out of his chest groaning as his his cum paint the slick walls of your cunt which are so sensitive in search of your own orgasm and he smirk watching you try when his fingers stop the stimulation on your clit, the lewd sounds coming from your used pussy seeps his cum.

He circles your clit a little more precisely, the pressure in your lower belly becomes immense, it's like ecstasy, flooding your body as it shudders beneath his, screaming you let out a hoarse moan, throwing your head back as your entire body shudders under his control finally succumbing to the orgasm that leaves your vision dark, your body relaxing at the pleasurable sensation.

A silence falls as you both pant, his muscular body slumping as his knees give way, putting all his weight onto your body that is now lying on the mat, eyes closed and heavy breathing trying to establish the normal rhythm of your breaths heartbeat that now seems to beat at a much stronger rate than normal with the thought that even without tsaheylu, even without being in front of Ewy you are now mated.

With a man you're now not so sure would still prefer you over all those Na'vi who practically begged to be mated, however that fate has naturally been accepted by you now.

“ Will you mate with me now? “. You hold his hand, wrapping it in yours. “ I mean before Ewya”

“ You're mine, aren't you ?” The words roll off his tongue before he even has a chance to process them. “ I'll mate with you before Ewya and make the bond for life, I'll make you my Tsahik, but only if you want it ”.

You take a moment to answer, not out of uncertainty but because the words are stuck in your throat, his warm breath blowing against your neck now that he's nuzzled his face there, inhaling you natural scent, licking the pulse point until you moan softly.

“ Yes Ma'Teyam, I want to ”

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ DEVOTION Pt. 6 ]

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Blame my obsession with K-dramas for how dramatic this last angsty part is. Also, to be clear, I do know some of you head-cannon Alastor as a ‘charismatic psychopath’ because of the way he acts in the show but personally I see him as more of a ‘dynamic sociopath’ while he was alive. I’m telling you this because I know authors tend to depict their faves so out of character just to progress the plot of their stories without any logical reasoning behind it. I am not that type of writer and therefore I don’t think my perception of (Human) Alastor is strange. Anyways, enough from me. Let’s get back to our regularly scheduled broadcast shall we?

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ MENTIONS & DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD / HORROR ] + [ PREGNANCY TROPE…it’ll be over soon I swear…] + [ IMPLICATIONS OF A MISCARRIAGE ] + [ DESCRIPTIONS OF A DEAD BODY ] + [ HEAVY ANGST ]

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On a cozy November evening, the Garden District of New Orleans bloomed with life. Its magnificent houses and mansions stood tall in the late-day sun, and the woeful winter breeze passing through the dazzling neighborhood rustled the greenery lining each home.

Many of the Jazz City’s locals regarded the area as an affluent attraction for outsiders to gawk and marvel at, while those who resided there took pride in its beauty.

You considered yourself fortunate to be a part of such a gleaming community, living a subtle life of luxury due to Alastor's wild success, but not entirely involved with other well-kept wives of similar influential figures.

Socializing had never been your forte; though it was required of you in mannerable situations, the constant exchange of loose friendships with strangers never entirely appealed to you.

Although, being married to a renowned public figure with an image to uphold puts you in compliance with the aversion.

Parties, local events, and even headlining musical performances became your routine social appearance.

Alastor was immensely proud to have you on his arm, charming the masses with your soft approach, swooning the newspapers with your angelic appearance and kind public gestures.

You did your best to make a lovely impression on anyone you encountered, wordlessly adhering to Alastor’s commanding ego and polishing the rough edges of his public image with practiced selflessness.

Few knew you personally, and even fewer saw you as a socialite.

Sure, you'd been polite to anyone who passed on the street, made small talk with neighbors, did charity work for those who thought to ask, and even donated effort towards Rosies spontaneous book club meetings every other weekend -though they were thinly veiled gossip sessions she'd orchestrate with fellow homemakers.

There wasn't a single person you could call a 'friend' who wasn't already close to your husband…

How Rosie had managed to crowd her stunning home with so many familiar yet strange faces, claiming to be precisely that -your friend- baffled you in more ways than one.

Yes, these people were acquaintances and admirers to some degree, but your friends?…

You had none besides Alastor, willing to remain by his side in matrimony just as you had from the moment you met him, reluctant to make any other connections since your shared childhood.

It didn’t help that Alastor developed a habit of scaring away new acquaintances behind your back and even resorted to violent acts of service to keep other suitors at bay before your shared vows.

As a result, the happy faces you saw now felt fabricated; every congratulatory remark didn't resonate with your heart, and the more people that arrived to celebrate you and Alastor, the more lost you felt.

They didn't know you.

No one knew you, but they adored your husband and, in turn, fawned over you.

Liars.

Everyone spouted half-truths, mirroring the ones Alastor had been telling you for months, and your heart grew heavier with each one told.

You could manage seeing him falsify his real identity to the public, to unsuspecting strangers, and to posh parasites.

You could handle being put on a pedestal, seen as the perfect wife, and expected to echo his ideal perception.

Lying to others was child's play, a game you two had grown to love, but Alastor developing the need to lie to you wasn't a tolerable offense.

The party began smoothly; guests swooped in with delightful gifts, either handmade or recently bought from the showcases of New Orleans's finest shops; gentle swing music wafted through the air of Rosie’s lavish two-story home that sat only a block away from your own.

She'd gone to the extreme for the whole ordeal: live music, tantalizing food laid out on tables in the parlor, decorations befitting a small ball neatly adorning the house exterior, and the creme de le creme of Louisiana's socialites filling the guest list.

Alastor uttered nothing but praise for his dearest friend's efforts, thanking her for the collaborative success with a broad smile and chaste kiss.

You followed his gratitude with a gracious nod, content with sitting at your designated table now lined with small gifts from an array of affluent attendees.

"My, Rosie, you've outdone yourself again! You even got Anthony and that grump Husk to show face," Alastor chuckled, eyeing the chattering crowd carefully until his gaze landed on the two opposing men.

Rosie hummed triumphantly, champagne flutes in one hand as the other flicked off an imaginary offense, "Oh, come now, Alastor, you know I'd do my best for the occasion! Everyone in town begged to be here. Not every day they get to meet radio's biggest star and his wife!"

She flashed a genuine grin at you, noting the slight glare on your face as you returned it, but said nothing.

Her attention reverted to the man beside her, who continued observing the crowd, sharing passing remarks with Rosie when a person of interest appeared.

You oversaw their exchange, deliberately soft-spoken the whole evening, often having to avert your focus to converse with a couple who'd come to give their gift and admiration.

Still, the minute the guests left to join the party again, you'd zero in on them.

Alastor felt your eyes on him, burning holes into the back of his head despite you sitting down to rest as the party moved along.

He refused to acknowledge your staring, patiently waiting for you to call for his attention rather than assume you needed it.

After ten minutes of idle chit-chat, he was obliged to give it to you, as Rosie excused herself for the time being.

You said nothing as he peered down at you over his shoulder, amber eyes glinting gold under the lowering sunlight pouring in from the opened bay windows behind you, lips curled into a familiar smile that you considered returning for a moment.

It was hard for you to deny how magnificent Alastor looked in the thrall of pride, dressed in a Burgundy suit with cream accents, hair neatly styled to hide his natural brown curls from the eye of others, and his skin glimmering under natural light.

He was beautiful, deceptively desirable even in your eyes filled with one-sided hurt, and you wished to let go and stand by his side with the utmost confidence in him just as you'd done so many times before.

It would be so easy to forget his transgressions then, to fully enjoy the celebration of your children's oncoming arrival together, but as he elegantly turned on his heel to approach you, splinters of suspicion pricked through your forgiving nature.

You wouldn't t let him charm his way out of this.

Enough was enough.

Alastor watched as your expression grew hard, hidden from the festive crowd by his lean frame as he knelt at eye level with you.

To those around you, the gesture came off as romantic, an endearing sight of a husband tending to his pregnant wife, and not the unspoken detachment of trust between a loyal lover and her predatory protector.

Alastor reached for one of your hands, subtly tugging it from resting on your stomach to resting in his palm.

A sickeningly sweet smile plastered his face as he placed a ginger kiss on your gloved knuckles.

His eyes never left yours as he enacted the loving gesture, swirling with unabashed mischief as you dug your nails into his skin, and the slight pain beckoned him to hum with delight.

You were angry and even enraged with him, but you showed it subtly and practiced, and if he were an ordinary man, Alastor would've considered feeling guilty for it.

But your husband was far from average, far from the definition of guilt, and you wouldn't have him any other way because, despite all his faults and evils, you loved him.

You loved him, felt loyal to him, would do anything for him, yet he lied.

He carried on belittling your trust to mere innocence.

Resentment radiated off you in waves, barely drowned out by the party's happenings but settling on Alastor's shoulders with force.

"Is there something troubling you, my dear?" he asks lowly, eyes steady on you as your smile tightens.

"You." is the only word that leaves your lips, laced with lethal rage in the softest tone, and the contrast elicits a rare frown from him.

He lets your response linger, tangling with laughter and music but remaining in his consciousness as he rises to his feet.

A specific anger curls in Alastor's chest, one he seldomly felt for himself, but the look on your face as he rose to his full height above you made it potent.

Something was different; that sweet girl he'd grown to cherish now looked tainted, and now he knew it was his fault.

"Darling…" he began to formulate an inquiry, faltering in his well-tailored demeanor to conjure a suitable remedy for your anger, but his excuses weren't quick enough.

You carefully stood to your feet, forcing a smile before raising on your tip toes to kiss his cheek, smoothing a hand over his suit until it rested where his heart was.

Your lips neared his ear, whispering spiteful words that didn't match the loving aura you showcased to the onlooking guests.

"You, my love, are a heartless lying bastard. Keeping secrets from me, your wife, of all people? Is that what your devotion to me means? Not trusting the woman who loves you? The mother of your children? If it is, then you can burn in hell with satan himself..'

The strain of smiling through your pain began to take its toll.

Tears welled in your eyes as each hurtful word fell on his ears, but you refused to cause a scene at such a lovely event and resorted to walking away from him as swiftly as you could manage.

Alastor was left to stand alone, his jaw clenched and his control wavering as he heard your heels click further away.

A few guests tried to gain your attention, but you quickly and respectfully declined their engagements, barely making it out of their view as tears streamed down your face, but by fate's grace, you found solace in Rosie's kitchen.

All of the cooks, maids, and waiters were absent.

Everyone was upstairs enjoying the festivities, celebrating you and Alastor's happiest time, but here you were.

Alone.

Beside yourself and utterly alone.

You tried to sob quietly, choking back frustrated screams while pacing, but the look on Alastor's face after you'd confronted him about lying brought more tears.

You'd never seen him hurt, taken aback, guilty like that.

He'd always been so perfect in your eyes, composed and deliberate about his presence.

Now, you'd ruined that image, and at what cost?

Would he come clean now or shut you out even more?

Was your anger worth any of it? Was his lying worth it?

Your heart was a mess, desperate to connect with his, but reluctant to it all at once.

“….”

Maybe father was right…

The sound of quick footsteps approaching the kitchen didn't register to you, drowned about by your excessive crying, but another presence was made evident as two gentle arms wrapped you in a hug.

"Oh, honey, come here…" Rosie cooed into your hair, frowning as your cries became hysterical, muffled by the frilly fabric of her dress.

"H-he's been lying to me, Rosie! Alastor…..a-and everyone else in this decrepit city has been playing me like a fool!"

You shuddered violently, trying to breathe correctly despite a filled stomach and a rush of anger taking its toll.

Rosie hushed you gently, letting you cry in her arms until your breaths came steadily.

She ushered you to sit somewhere comfortable as she gathered a few items to help your nerves settle.

"He lied to me," you repeat tiredly, watching as she throws together a pot of tea, using herbs you know all too well.

A sprig of Lavender, sprinkle of cinnamon, bits of rosemary, and a few drops of honey. Finally, a dash of lemon for taste.

This a simple but potent recipe for a calming and effective cup of tea.

Rosie sighs, debating what to say as she lets the mixture steep in a porcelain cup of hot water.

You weren't wrong; Alastor was hiding things from you, and though she hated to see you so distraught because of his hidden deeds, the possibility of hurting you with the truth weighed on her.

Betray, her closest friend's trust, tell his wife the haunting truth and pray she still loves him after hearing it.

Or, keep up the charade he'd so carefully created to protect you, risk driving you mad with resentment, and contribute to the cycle of pain you felt?

Rosie had difficulty choosing which path to follow but soon made her decision as you spoke again.

"Rosie…tell me the truth. Is he…is he seeing another woman? Planning to leave me? To leave us?.." you glance at your stomach, fearful of her answer and terrified your assumptions might be right.

Oddly silent, she doesn't answer your questions immediately and finishes preparing your fresh cup of hot tea, "Rosie, please! Whatever Alastor is hiding from me, I need to know. I…I'm his wife, and I have the right to at least know what's being kept from me. What is he doing out so late all the time? Why can’t I leave the house without him anymore? And for goodness sake, why does he insist I don’t read the paper?!”

The blonde freezes where she stands, whipping her whole body around to stare at you intently, and you stop yourself from rambling seeing her serious so suddenly.

"Al isn't being unfaithful, dear. That I can tell you for certain.."

"Then what in god's name is he-"

Rosie drew closer to you, dawning an all-too-sweet smile you'd learned to dread.

That happy expression was practiced, used only to console your fears or quell any questions you had.

She'd gotten so well at fronting the mask that you nearly began to believe anything she said when it was on, but now you knew better.

You knew that smile meant more lying, and in that moment, you lost the will to trust anyone in Alastors' close circle.

Even Rosie.

"I think it's time you go home and rest, dear. All this stress and crying isn't good for the babies," the blonde moved you gently, helping you stand and walk the expanse of her kitchen, up the stairs, and down corridors until the ongoing party reached your ears again.

That entire trek back upstairs felt meaningless, a distant woeful memory you existed in just to be flung back into reality by Rosie's voice, "I'll go get Al and have him take you-"

Your head snapped up at the mention of the one man who'd caused so much sorrow, tongue poised to speak harshly about him, but your penchant for politeness tempered it.

"That won't be necessary, Rosie. I'll get home just fine on my own."

She balled, clutching the string of pearls around her neck, "Oh goodness no, dear! This may be uptown, but it is still no safe place to walk about all alone. And dare I say, Alastor’s just wouldn't have it-"

"Rosie. I don't wish to see or be near him!.." you hissed as quietly as possible, lips pursed and eyes glaring daggers into her crowded parlor room.

Despite her better judgment, Rosie let the matter go, frowning as she made a heady suggestion.

"Why don't I have a close friend walk you home then? Just in case. There is a murder running 'round, and we can't have you getting hurt or caught up."

There it was again…

We…

You knew she was referring to anyone but you. Alastor, Angelique, her.

Everyone but you seemed to have a significant stake or curious investment in your unborn children's well-being.

The eerie overprotectiveness always made you weary, but at this point, you found it alarming, to say the least.

However, Rosie was right to a point.

There'd been a murder -or several- running a muck in Louisiana’s deep south.

Specifically, New Orleans.

Although the gruesome crimes were frequent, morbidly committed, and consistently reported on by papers and radio shows alike…

No one, not even the expert authorities, seemed to pinpoint a suspect or apparent killer among the public.

All that they knew was the killer's intangible motives, their style, their choice of victims -but nothing substantial enough to apprehend them.

You couldn't care less about a possibility of the Bayou Butcher coming for your head.

Your anger towards Alastor proceeded your worries for personal safety.

Rosie didn't wait for you to come to reason with her observation, already scurrying into the parlor to find your husband and tell him of your wishes to leave.

It irritates you how fragile she, Alastor, and everyone else he knows treated you.

It was as if you couldn't fend for yourself, as if he was the only one capable of cognitive thought in your marriage, and to some degree, the realizations stung your pride.

Traces of anger grew in your heart towards him minute by minute, something you never dreamt of feeling for him, but dreams can quickly turn into nightmares as your father would say…

This moment was that turning point. You could feel the shift as you turned away from the packed parlor, ignoring those who gave greetings as you stalked toward the front door.

Some asked if you needed assistance, and others watched in confusion as you slipped out the door and let it slam shut behind you.

Not many people were on the front porch and lawn, and those who were let you pass through without saying a word.

You presumed they were just waiting for the moment to gossip again, whether it be about you or someone else.

The need to care wasn't one you had, taking brisk steps down the sidewalk under a setting sun as rare chilled breezes sweep the southern heat from your face.

It was convenient that Rosie only lived a block and a half away from you, and Alastor’s shared estate.

The semi-long walk gave you time to think, time to enjoy the scenery around you and get away from the suffocating expectations put on you simply by being the Radio Star's perfect wife.

You scoffed at the thought, trying not to get angry again as your steps took you around a familiar corner, but the negative feeling quickly lessened when you felt a gentle rap of kicks in your stomach.

The twins gave a subtle tussle, sensing their mother's distress, and to some degree, you believed they were trying to cheer you up.

Their tiny gestures worked, putting a smile on your solemn expression and keeping it there to your destination.

You shuffled up the steps to your home, tired, feet sore, and ready to cry again as the large structure reminded you of the man you'd left to endure the company of his admirers.

His.

Not yours.

That had always been the difference.

With a sigh, you unlocked the front double doors, shutting them swiftly as street lamps began to light up and locking the ornate wood panels right after.

It was a habit Alastor insisted on and one you didn't intend to break tonight.

He'd have to come through the back door, and as small as the hassle would be, you still found it a suitable enough sign of discontent from you to him.

With nothing but sleep on your mind, you trudged up the staircase, pulling your gloves off and preemptively pulling pins from your styled hair.

By the time you reached the bedroom, your hair flowed loosely down your back, and your dress zipper was pulled down (by some miracle, you managed to do it on your own).

You tossed the pins on your vanity, jewelry, gloves, and clutch purse, following suit.

Your shoes regained their spot in the closet, your clothes were thrown into the bathroom hamper, and your nightrobe was thrown over your arm as a replacement.

You were ready for bed after one hot shower, a face care routine, and a hair brushing session.

Alastor still isn't home yet…

The clock had struck midnight thirty minutes ago, and he'd yet to show his face.

You half expected him to, but after years of seeing him angry on very few occasions, you highly doubted he'd return without cooling himself down first.

He tended to go hunting as an alternative…which left you alone for hours on end.

Sadness and guilt crept into you as the argument replayed in your mind.

The emptiness of your shared bed did not help your aching heart, and the heavy silence of the house made it worse.

You may have gone too far.

Maybe he wasn't hiding anything, and I overreacted?

Maybe I was wrong to doubt him, to worry and fret over something trivial.

Your thoughts spiraled again, tears filling your eyes as regret got the best of you.

"What have I done…?" you mumbled in earnest, glancing around the room, wishing to apologize to Alastor or at least explain yourself in a better tone.

Sleeping without him felt foreign, unreal, and even like a self-inflicted punishment.

You saw no benefit to it, and you were consumed with worry.

I can’t do this…

With your mind racing but your body ready to rest, you decided that taking one of Angelique's tonics would soothe you enough to relax.

You left the room on a mission, carefully treading downstairs and into the kitchen, and with haste, you found the cabinet holding the container of vials she’d gifted to you every month.

You opened it swiftly, hoping to find what you needed, but the box was empty.

"Oh, for the love of!-" you hissed angrily, shoving the box away with a grimace, but the sour expression didn't last long as you remembered where to find extra tonics.

Angelique was an insightful woman, cautious enough to give you extra in case something like this happened.

Fortunately, Alastor insisted on putting the additional vials somewhere else so as not to mistake them for regular tonics.

You'd agreed to his idea, allowing him to keep them safely locked in the basement, but now you needed them.

Leaving the moonlit kitchen, you drifted into the second hallway, walking straight ahead to the basement door.

Its key hung on a hook to the left, a small silver trinket Alastor kept a tight watch on, and you tended not to mess with it.

That went for the basement as well.

It was his area of the house you stayed away from not only out of personal reluctance but also out of explicit instructions from him.

His reasons for your avoidance ranged from "Trust me, It's too dangerous for you, darling.." to "Just as you have the library as a safe haven, I have the basement as mine…"

You hadn’t thought to question him, having no reason to, but for once, you disregarded his wishes to grant your own.

He'd never know you went down there only to retrieve medicine. What harm could one peek do?

You plucked the key from its hook, unlocking the creaky black walnut door before reaching into the dark abyss for the lamp switch.

Your fingers found it on the left wall, flicking the switch to bring a warm golden light into the damp room.

The steps croaked under your slow footsteps, holding firm under your nearly doubled weight until you stepped onto the cold wooden flooring.

Alastor kept the space oddly clean; a chair sat in one corner, his hunting gear was neatly arranged on one of two long oak tables, and the walls held other hunting equipment.

You noticed most of the hanging instruments were carving aids, something your own father used to cut and properly clean his own game after he went hunting during your childhood.

Seeing the array of butcher knives and other tools did not frighten you; they were familiar and expected from your husband's choice of hobbies.

Nothing caught your attention at first, usual kickbacks and things tucked away in corners and a hefty radio set on the second table, but little stood out.

You treaded carefully though, peering curiously at different items as you searched for the spare box of tonics, but they were nowhere to be found at first glance.

You figured to look deeper, rummaging through cabinets and under the table, mindful of your swollen belly as you bent down or reached above.

The longer you searched, the more anxious you felt.

Somewhat afraid of being in the basement alone, and a little scared Alastor would find you down there, though he explicitly asked you not to be.

"I have to hurry.." you mumbled, eyes frantically searching the space again as the last cabinet you searched held nothing important to you.

A particular corner of the room caught your gaze. Right behind the armchair was a stack of boxes of different sizes.

You drew closer to them, spotting the extra medicine box on top, gently grabbing it from the pile, but you couldn't look away from the most enormous box sitting right at your feet.

It was huge and made of sturdy metal, unlike the rest, and you were sure a whole person could fit in it if they tried.

How odd…

You'd never seen it before but the box felt sorely out of place, among other things.

You couldn't peel your attention away from it, some invisible force urging you to look inside, and despite your better judgment, you gave into the desire.

Setting the medicine box down on the chair, you moved the other cases off the larger one, clearing it off before cautiously kneeling to open it.

There was no lock, only four bolt latches, which you found easy enough to undo, but the real task was lifting the heavy lid up high enough to see inside.

You managed it with a few determined huffs escaping your lips, letting the heavy lid hit the stone wall before taking a look inside.

You immediately wish you hadn't..…

"Oh God…" you whispered in utter shock and horror at the sight in front of you, feeling undeniably sick from it, mind racing to make up a rational reason for the vulgar sight.

But what rational reason on Earth could justify your beloved husband hiding a literal mutilated body in the basement.

Your heart sank seeing the poor souls' faces sunken in with dread, drowning in their blood, maned at various points as if an animal had mauled them.

Body parts were missing, skin had been flayed, and you almost couldn't tell if the person had any recognizable features left.

It was horrible…a brain-altering nightmare come to life before your very eyes, and it made you sick.

You began to cry, unconsciously sobbing hysterically as the dead body lifelessly peered back at you, terrified of it… slightly afraid of the man you presumed caused the damming scene.

With a sense of urgency, you reached to shut the lid, flinching as loose blood splattered onto you from the impact of the box closing, and the chill of red liquid dripping down your skin was enough to make you scream in pure disgust.

It was a guttural, frantic cry you'd only expressed in recent nightmares, but a deserved one.

Your body began to shake in peril, the gruesome image engraved into your mind as you scrambled to get to stand, but you weren't as composed as before and stumbled backwards haphazardly as a result.

Everything moved faster than you thought; your body had abandoned control, leaving you to fall without warning.

The room spun as your head collided with a table's edge, a dull pain erupting in your skull on impact, and your consciousness wholly disrupted.

The blinding pain of falling to the hard floor didn't register to you as panicked tears seeped down your face, screams you couldn't hear left your lips, and blood began to pool from your head and between your legs.

Shock, terror, helplessness, fear, and panic were all you could feel.

Intense pain in your stomach and head amplified the emotions but became distant sensations as your vision blurred and faded.

The very last words you remember speaking was a cry for help, a desperate plea for everything you'd seen to be a mistaken dream, a cry for anyone -no- your husband to save you from the terrible ordeal.

A plea for him to appear and tell you it's not true, that the body in the bolted box wasn't his doing, but your hope of him hearing you -anyone hearing you- dwindled rapidly as your concussion took hold.

---------- ----------- -------------- -----------

Rosie found Alastor quickly enough, merely having to spot his neatly styled curls drifting in the wind as he stood out on a balcony alone.

A drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other.

He blew smoke into the murky winter air, eyes dark and narrowed as he stared at the evening sky.

It was rare to see him frowning.

Alastor Hartifelt, of all people, not smiling?

Rosie nearly couldn't believe it the closer she drew to him.

He was…upset.

Irritated.

His smile was thoroughly washed away by your harsh words and prods for the truth.

You'd managed to take his cheer in one fail swoop, leaving him alone to think, and he couldn't blame you.

You, his ever-so-loving wife, his confidant, and his soon-to-be motherly doting doe, were rightfully at odds with him.

He'd hurt you, the very reason he'd began lying in the first place was to avoid doing so, but it'd happened anyway.

A genuinely ironic turn of events, in his opinion.

Alastor glared at the rising moon, cursing whatever higher power meddled dared to meddle in his life of all people, but his inner ranting was cut short as the sound of Rosie clearing her throat hit his ears.

The radio host spun on his heel to face her, fronting a slight smile to hide the agitation he felt at the moment, "Done socializing already, dear Rosie?"

He strived to sound polite and unbothered, but the edge in his tone showed through despite his best efforts.

Rosie paid no mind to his touchy attitude, knowing where it stemmed from.

She came to stand by his side, nodding in response to his question, "I didn't have much time to. I was with your lovely wife…trying to calm her nerves."

Alastor's frown returned at the mention of you, a thin line on his lips and a glint of guilt in his gaze.

"How is she?" he asks quietly, and Rosie's cheery expression falters hearing it.

"She insisted on returning home… by herself. Incredibly distraught on her way out.." She admits.

His chest tightened, heart sinking instantly picturing you at home alone, "Why didn't she-"

Rosie clicked her tongue dismissively, interrupting his line of questioning, "Al, she was severely distraught. Please let her be. I only know a fraction of what went on between you two, but it's obvious to her that you're hiding something. Not to intrude on your marriage, darling, but you must make a choice before something irreversible happens to it…to Y/n."

The blonde couldn't hide her somberness, staring at her long-time friend with a sense of earnest sincerity as she continued, "I shouldn't be the one to tell you this….but if you really do care for the girl, love her like you say you do, then you'll tell her the truth. You'll tell her, and she'll still be by your side…."

Alastor lowered his head, and for the first time in his adult life, he felt perplexed, stuck at impasss of foreign emotions.

He cared for you; some might call it love, and he'd been aware of it since childhood.

You'd told him all your secrets, good or bad, and trusted him.

You trusted him enough to reveal the mental abuse your father had put you through during childhood.

Trusted him enough to tell him how badly you wished you'd died instead of your mother to make your father somewhat happy again.

Alastor even knew of the times you'd been left completely alone as a child for weeks on end, how your father's neglect made you feel less than, and the permanent effect it had on you.

Your desire to fill a void, be loved without being shoved off, and be seen as more than a convenient soft-hearted person for someone to trifle with.

He knew every little thing about you, and it was because you had faith in his loyalty.

He found it easy to divulge his thoughts to you in the same manner, but allowing his secrets out into the open made him uneasy, even if you'd proven trustworthy from the beginning.

Then there was the matter of killing for you.

Alastor had done it so many times without your knowledge…

Stalking down men who stared at you too long for his liking, carving up anyone who spoke ill of you, happily taking the life of those who spoke down on your relationship.

Most of his murderous tendencies were purely driven by his obsession with you, a twisted kind of possessiveness he couldn't let go of, and one that made it easy for him to spill blood for you in the blink of an eye.

He did it to keep you safe…and that’d only be possible with him and no one else.

What stopped him from telling you how far he’d gone to do so, showing you that unnatural side of him only his victims saw, could only be described as fear.

Fear of losing you.

Fear of stripping the warmth from your heart.

Fear of losing the one thing, the one person who'd loved him despite all his flaws.

Fear of never truly smiling, never feeling a genuine emotion again because you -your presence in his life- allowed him to do just that.

Alastor hated to call it what it was, but as he was evading your attempts to understand, lying straight to your face and hoping you'd dilute your intuition was a way cowards way out of telling you the whole truth.

His pride dimmed, a frustrated grunt rumbling his chest as he glared at the drink in his hand.

Rosie sighed, flashing him a soft smile of pure reassurance, "Go to her, Al. Put a stop to her worries and relieve yourself of the burden. If not for your marriage, then for her sanity. She is too lovely of a girl to be treated so faithlessly."

He tongues his cheek at her words, a bitter burn of smoke and whiskey on it as he swallows thickly before nodding in agreement, "Seems I have no choice."

"You best head off. It's getting rather late, and I'm sure she misses you dearly, Al."

Alastor took one last drag of his cigarette, dropping it in his half-full bourbon glass before letting Rosie take it from him as he straightened his suit.

"I'll bid you good night then. You have my gratitude, Rosie, and the party was a splendid success, if I may add." His tone was back to normal, engaging, and mildly charismatic. Rosie smiled wide at his improving mood, accepting his thanks before shooting him off with a quick peck on his cheek.

“Au revoir monsieur!…”

“Au revoir mademoiselle..”

-------- ---------- ------------ --------------- -----------

Alastor made it home without trouble, humming a snappy tune to distract himself from the evening's progressing events.

However, as he reached the back door of your shared home, his shadows twinged with alertness.

His hand froze over the gold doorknob, a certain heaviness settling in his chest as the specters frantically twisted against the back porch walls.

Something is wrong. Can't hear Y/n. Can't hear their heartbeats. Can't feel them-

Alastor stiffened as his shadows enlarged, fueled by the panic he was resisting, "Find her!" he bellowed the order out on instinct, and the leering spirits dove into action as he barreled into the darkened home.

"Y/n!?" he yelled for you, head whipping in every direction as he searched the first floor, stomping up the stairs next to search the second floor but coming up empty.

He stood in your shared bedroom, remaining calm as he tried to figure out where you could be.

All your belongings were here, and you had readied for bed from the looks of your tampered vanity, but nothing else gave him a clue about your whereabouts.

That was until his shadows called to him; a certain bellow of wailing sounded from the lower part of the house, and one Alastor didn't like the sound of.

A warning.

A frenzied one at that.

Found her…hurry.

Without a second thought, Alastor bounded back downstairs, following the whips of his shadow self as it traveled through the halls, only to stop in front of a doorway he dreaded.

The basement. Its door was wide open, the lamp light eerily aglow as his shadows whirled past the steps to engulf the room.

“Y/n?!…” Alastor called for you again as he crept down the creaky wood steps, voice stiffer than he intended it to be, but its edge paled compared to the large lump forming in his throat when his eyes spotted you.

Splayed out on the floor, on your side, lying limp and motionless.

A small puddle of blood was forming near your head, another was quickly growing in between your legs, and splatters of it covered your face, hands, and nightgown.

For the second time in his life, Alastor felt true terror, bewildered by the sight of his darling wife in distress and paralyzed by the powerful possibility it was his fault.

He’d only felt this fearful once before, afraid his father would end his mother’s life right in front of him after a hefty night of drinking, but even then, he found the courage to act.

Merely killing his father out of pure rage-filled instinct, but now…how he would remedy your suffering alluded him completely.

She's barely breathing… Their heartbeats-

"That's quite enough from you!" Alastor roared in utter frustration, moving without thinking, willing himself to do anything but panic.

He worked as quickly as his mind would allow, trying not to break down as he knelt beside your still body, "Y/n…darling…wake up… please…" he begged quietly.

Being as cautious as ever, he cradled you close, praying to whatever cruel god there was that you'd respond or at least open your eyes while he carried you out of the haunting basement.

Your body twitched at the sound of a familiar voice, feeling lighter as solid arms lifted you from the cold floor and whisked you from the damp room.

The sound of a rapid heartbeat thundered in your ear as waves of coherence fought to establish itself in you, but the severity of your wounds made it a struggle to function.

You settled for listening to the heartbeat, the voice accompanying it a vague background noise but a comforting one.

Your vision wasn't any better, only allowing you to see a murky image of a man, one you knew well but couldn't determine was real or not in the moment.

“Al..astor?..”you whispered in awe, smiling sadly as he looked down at you, clearly worried.

“Stay with me, darling… Keep breathing, please…”

Alastor felt you shiver violently in his arms hearing him speak, racing up the stairs as cautiously as possible to avoid hurting you more, barging into your shared bedroom seconds later.

He laid you down on the bed, disregarding the blood and dirt staining the sheets as he tried to assess your injuries. "Fuck…fuck…fuck!" he rambled angrily, breaths coming quick, and his mind in a rare frenzy as a result.

Your eyes refused to stay open, an apparent wound was on the side of your head, and the impact of your fall had indeed done something to warrant your lower half bleeding.

He needed to stop the bleeding from both areas, keep you awake, and determine the twin's state all at once.

Alastor knew this but struggled to pull himself together, only able to grasp at one of your hands with both of his to ground himself as a frustrated smile adorned his face.

Pull it together, or she and your children die.

It's all my fault… it's all my fault…

She'll die if you don't act…

It's all my fucking fault…I-

She needs help! Wallowing in your depraved guilt won't change that!

His shadows chittered, reasoning with their host despite the panic they felt seeping off of him.

Alastor screwed his eyes shut, an anguished growl leaving his chest as he tried to think of a solution and push away his panicked state.

You remained still, on the verge of passing out again, trying to hold onto reality a little longer, squeezing your savior's hand back as a weak tether to it.

Alastor froze, feeling your gesture, head lifting swiftly as you attempted to speak, "It h-hurts.." you muttered painfully, acknowledging a new ache you'd only felt a few weeks prior.

Intense shocks of strain spread in your abdomen, noticeable contractions that felt different than previous ones, but as much as you wanted to articulate the agony they caused, you couldn't find the strength to.

You screamed instead, gripping Alastor’s hand hard as the constant pains grew more robust, making your cries grow louder.

The terror in your screeches struck him hard, an almost unnatural sound he'd never imagined coming from you, but your following words gave the sounds plausible clarity.

"Th-they're c-coming!" you choked between labored breaths, feeling dizzy as your blood loss took its toll, but the growing urge to push trumped your need to pass out.

Alastor came to his senses upon hearing your warning.

Fully aware that he couldn't handle this situation alone, he did the only thing that made sense to him.

Ask for help. Something he hated to do but saw no alternative for.

"Go get Rosie. Make it quick. Find my mother next and get her here as well…" he commanded his shadows quietly, heart still racing as he took solace in comforting you.

The bed dipped as he sat down, free hand cradling your head as the other raised yours to his lips.

He planted a kiss on your knuckles; brows furrowed as the feeling of your fingers gripping his slightly lessened, an indication of culminated exhaustion and blood loss.

"Stay with me, ma chere. Just a while longer, alright? Everything…everything’s going to be fine…" Alastor muttered soothing words into your ear, a ploy to keep you and himself calm, and to some extent, it worked.

You hung onto his every word, confused and alarmed by him but clinging to the safety his presence brought.

You couldn't forget what you saw in the basement, the horrid image still stuck in the back of your mind as you cried in agony and writhed in desperation for help.

You couldn't believe that Alastor, your perfect husband, the man watching over you now so fervently, had done something so horrible to another person.

You had many questions, fears, and even more confusion than before.

Nevertheless, your dire position now completely overshadowed the underlying nightmare that was your marriage.

Your children.

That's the only thing you could clearly envision, enduring the heartache, suffering through the genuine threat to your life, all for their sake.

Confronting Alastor could wait.

Surviving the night and bringing healthy twins into this world couldn't.

xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxx

I'm putting the reader through a lot...but you all will survive... Maybe. Also, the song choices for this one kind of hit just right. ;)

TAGS ❤️: @rapturenyx @michi-keinz @shealizxx @nissrinina @destinyisastar @bubblegumheartsy @sailorsmouth @aestheticgals-blog @rameisa @ellesette

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

This edit is so fitting, I fear... Credits to creator ❤️

[bengiyo]

We Are Sucks, and BL Will Be Worse When This Succeeds

We Are the series, the latest empty drivel from New Siwaj, has crossed a line for me that I cannot abide. This show is nothing more than loosely connected setups for BL moments that are easy to gif or clip for maximum virality, designed to fulfill a financial obligation to iQIYI and otherwise keep the B- and C-tier BL pairs occupied with work. This show is saying nothing about the human condition with any verve, and there is no queer subtext or text to pull from any of these characters that the viewer isn’t already bringing to the table. 

I had stopped writing Stray Thoughts for this show because it doesn’t really have much of a plot or story to tell, but I am not going to be able to continue this show past episode 5. This show is the BL equivalent of a cumshot compilation. It is designed exclusively as fap material to coo over known BL pairs smiling at each other. I was chatting with @twig-tea yesterday about how after five episodes we still don’t really have anything resembling an arc for these characters and how it’s just a bunch of BL dudes hanging out. Twig described it as “disingenuous to [even] call it a show” and “...a bunch of compatibility workshops strung together.”

I hate this so much. There is no story being told here. This is like watching actor reels on IG or TikTok. There is nothing here to hold onto other than your baseline fondness for the cast. There was a moment in episode 5 that felt completely unscripted between Aou and Boom that felt like Boom reacting to being teased by Aou and not a moment between their characters. They didn’t even let Aou’s character confess the specificity of his feelings because they don’t matter to this show! It doesn’t matter why he likes Boom’s character! Just that he does! Why does Boom’s character respond so positively to these feelings? Why didn’t he take initiative on his own before? What changed at all? What’s the goddamn story here? There’s nothing! We just make it up and enjoy the smiles.

I usually don’t want to bitch about shows I don’t like extensively on here, and I especially don’t like spamming tags with negative commentary or musing on shows. However, there are 11 more episodes of this empty nothing, and 30 more episodes of New Siwaj trash on the horizon. He has become the GMMTV BL Babysitter, and I am horrified by what this means for the genre. I try to stay patient with New because usually he captures some form of gay melancholy or angst in his shows, but there is none of that here in We Are. All of these characters know each other and are basically just hanging out for about an hour of TV. 

I worry about stuff like this being good enough to monetize. There’s nothing interesting for me in this experience with a queer lens. There is no real story being told, and caring about any details as if they matter leads to questioning the integrity of the characters (are we really doing a slave narrative in a college BL again?). It feels like the end product of giving up on chasing ratings and only chasing virality to monetize the talent for ad spots, concerts, fan meets, and merch. No longer do we even need to make stories about compelling romances between men. We just need to get passably attractive boys on screen together and just ask them to smile. 

What does it mean for the genre if GMMTV goes another step forward with this and no longer brings any robust writing to the BL table. Are we satisfied with BL as glorified slideshows of shippable actors? What happens when GMMTV is able to easily milk this over other robust productions? Is this just the filler fluff to keep people engaged with the network between their solid projects to prove their bonafides? BL has always struggled with depictions of queerness, but are we at the point where we don't even try to tell stories that even feel queer? Is just simply putting boys next to each other enough? I don’t like this at all, and it unsettled me as I watched five episodes of We Are only to feel nothing. 

I am always half-joking about being over New Siwaj, but I really am at this point. 

[illubean]

Can u write for Illumi who during the hunter exam gets a crush on reader who looks very delicate and feminine, but later he finds out he's a man?

(Insert clever title here)

Characters: Illumi Zoldyck Type: Oneshot, Male!reader

he dig also i couldn't think of a title for this one LMAO

Warnings: canon typical violence? also for the purpose of being "feminine" reader has long hair and wears a skirt i imagine reader being in eglfashion but you don't have to it was just the first thing that came to mind

Illumi wasn't too sure what it was but there was something about a certain contestant in the hunter exams that happened to catch his eye. Perhaps it was the way they looked so out of place, seemingly to dainty and delicate for an exam such as this.

You looked as though you should be home in your father's castle, reading in a garden or something. Maybe your elegance is what drew Illumi to you. Your long flowing hair and the cute skirt you chose to wear was something Illumi could appreciate, as he too liked to dress his best.

During the fourth phase of the exam, Illumi awoke from his slumber earlier than he had anticipated. Having nothing better to do, he decides to seek you out, curious as to how you've managed to hold up this long. To quell his own curiosity he decided to watch you.

From afar of course.

He sat high up in a tree and spotted you sitting by the river, watching the fish and how the water flowed downstream. This was a gorgeous scene to the assassin, though he could not explain why. Yes nature is beautiful and yes there was no doubt that you were easy on the eyes but there's no way that Illumi could be attracted to you, right? It's not a feeling a good assassin should have. So, ignoring the way his heart tells him to approach you and wanting to get to know you he continues to watch from above, boiling these feelings down to simple curiosity.

Through his observations, Illumi noticed something different about you. He had realized he's never once heard you speak and you were awfully flat chested for a woman. After some time he brushed these thoughts off, he hadn't spent any time close enough to you to hear you speak and your cup size was simply just none of his business. The faintest sound of rustling leaves coming from the bushes below caught both your and Illumi's attention.

You snapped your head in the direction of the sound just in time to see some rando jump out at you. You swiftly dodge their attack, hitting them on the back of the neck and watching them fall to the ground, paralyzed. You could only assume that they drew your number at the beginning of the phase. You had already collected all the points you needed, but decided to take any badges off of the person before you.

"I don't really need these, but you tried attacking me and I don't like that very much. And it was a lousy attempt at that," you scoff, standing up and holding the two badges you just pulled out of their vest.

Illumi both heard and watched the scene unfold, now knowing what your voice sounds like. Again, it was quite odd for a woman.

"Oh and you can stop watching me now," you speak up again, looking up towards Illumi's spot in the tree.

He was impressed to say the least. Managing to notice the eldest of the Zoldyck children was a feat of its own but you had somehow known since the beginning. Maybe if he was attracted to you, which by the way he totally isn't, it wouldn't be so bad. You could be a fine addition to the family.

Having been caught, he jumped down from his spot in the tree and stood to face you.

"Nice work. You took out your opponent with a single blow and managed to notice me despite my concealed presence," he complimented.

"I know my way around the human body. And as for you," you say, looking him up and down. "I just happen to be very vigilant."

Now that he had gotten a chance to speak to you and has seen the smallest glimpse of what you're capable of, Illumi decides to cut to the chase. Despite you being a complete stranger, he had deemed you worthy enough to bring you to Kukuroo mountain and watch your attempt at the testing gates. His mother would be happy to find out that he had found a potential suitor. If anything were to go wrong Illumi was confident that you wouldn't be able to take him on, let alone the entire family.

"Why don't you come back home with me after this is all over. Assuming you survive, of course."

Your eyes widen slightly at his straightforwardness before you let out a laugh and offer your answer.

"Sure thing pretty boy but there's one thing you should know first. I'm a man."

Illumi's brain flat lines at those 3 simple words and all he can let out is a confused "Oh."

Those weird things he noticed about you now made sense. This wasn't the worst thing ever considering he was already technically married to Hisoka(a man) for business. And from what Illumi can tell you're strong and have a good sense of fashion, meaning his mother would like you. The only possible issue in pursuing you was that the two of you probably wouldn't be able to have biological children.

While Illumi was having an inner battle, you caress his shoulder as you walked away.

"I'll leave you to think about that for a while."

A shock traveled down his spine as he stood, finally coming to a decision.

Fuck it, I'll make it work.

[vibingandsimping]

Another drabble as I work on more long headcanons and oneshots/fics… they’re in the works y’all.

Forewarnings: Age difference mentioned.

A friend and I were talking about Zevlor and I have come to realize I love older men. (Who said that? Not me.)

Longer blurb… got a little carried away.

You knew that since you saw him atop the Grove, Zevlor was a sight. A fiery red tiefling with sharp horns that curled upwards. In all honesty, from the distance, all you could make out was his general being was sharp if his chiseled features were anything to go by. Blade slashed and spells whizzed across the outside as you and your companions fought off the invading goblins. Everyone managed to hold their ground and survive while the foe was temporarily vanquished. The gates raised and you entered with heavy pockets. Your first stop, initially, was to trade with the local shopkeep. Those plans were soiled when you saw him arguing with one of the humans who led the goblin pack. With eavesdropping ears and peering eyes, you concluded he was about to explode on him.

Ever the savior you were, you interrupted and defused the situation. Yes, the human male’s mistake to lead them back here was idiotic… it did not warrant any further violence. One life was lost and that was a win itself. Things could’ve went worse, you reassured him, as he inhaled deeply from his nostrils with a look of growing shame. He seemed conflicted still and apologized but all you could really focus on the character he was. His face and voice showed his age- Zevlor clearly lived a healthy portion of his life. Yet, he seemed to be marking all the right boxes. He was humble and mature enough to admit his wrongdoings even in a noble cause. He wanted nothing more than to protect his tiefling family. Tiefling or not yourself, that was admirable.

After chatting, you ended up agreeing to clearing out the camp of goblins. Part of it was your nature and a more selfish part was to earn the favor of the fine aged man you’d met. Plus, it seemed to also benefit the druids. Two birds with one stone kind of deal. That in itself was a feat and there were quite the… obstacles along the way. You made sure to visit the grove and make conversation with him when you could. He was often found in the seclusion of his chamber, rather stressed actually, but always spared you the time to chat. Quick conversations evolved into learning more about him. Harmless gazes and smiles (which, you’d say his smile was about the most devilishly charming) turned into fleeting glances and sheepish. It was like he was fighting his nature.

The last time you visited him in the Grove was to announce the news of the liberation. His eyes widened and he stammered in shock that you even managed to do it. As emotion overwhelmed him, he drew you into a tight squeeze and thanked you in such a tone you knew that you saw him more than a newfound friend at this point. His touch was warm and tight, it made you feel safe. It was much too short for your liking and he cleared his throat with an apology for the outburst. You simply excused him politely with a blush and prepared for the celebration they’d throw at your camp that night. Your mind wouldn’t wipe of the man as you adventured, painfully distracted.

When you arrived at camp, everyone seemed settled in and already pouring their drinks. Voices sung, people danced and others staggered. They were the lightweights and got drunk off a goblet or two of wine. None of it seemed to interest you, though. Eyes darting along until you spotted him standing off by himself. Your heart pang at the sight- he should be enjoying himself. He was your first stop that night (and you sure did notice a certain vampire brooding as you strode right past). A soft expression enveloped his features as your stomach churned. He was too attractive for his own good. The two of you talked and he reminisced on the fact that seeing his refugee’s enjoy themselves was enough for him. He quietly thanked you once more as his gaze devolved into something more… intimate. There was a hesitance- a vulnerability. It seemed as if he was heartbroken before… possibly secluded? If you weren’t reading into things, he surely held some sort of affection for you. He regarded you whilst you two spoke as if you were unobtainable. Whether that was the challenge of your companions or believing he was too old for love.

You sought out to prove him utterly wrong. Even if he was an older tiefling, he deserved to live out his years with someone by his side.

(If you made it this far… I was tempted to write MUCH more. If you guys want a continuation or such let me know. More than happy to supply.)

[vasito-de-leche]

so three things,one I love your hc/analysis on forget me not its *chefs kiss*and nice to see more content on him!! two I do have a request ! I am curious about your hcs for how forget me not would like actually navigate a relationship?

sorry if this is lengthy or if my request is a lot im a lil new to all this !!

;RE1999 FORGET ME NOT - Relationship Headcanons

Compilation of headcanons about Forget Me Not in a romantic relationship.

not lengthy at all, ty for the ask anon! <3 super glad you liked my FMN post too!!

you asked about how I think he'd ACTUALLY navigate a relationship, so I went a little deranged thinking about it cause the guy is FASCINATING to analyze. sorry if you were expecting something else! like, something more romantic? if you just want romance stuff, deffo feel free to leave another ask being more specific!

Right off the bat, Forget Me Not strikes me as a type of person who has a lot of trouble keeping any sort of solid relationships due to his poor interpersonal skills.

Similar to Pavia, he exists outside of conventional society - but unlike Pavia, Forget Me Not has taught himself how to imitate others and mask as a sound, hinged and regular individual. He can charm his way in and out of any conversation, change the tide to his favour and play any role necessary for his goals - but it's all play pretend in the end, because he wholeheartedly believes that none of it is meant to last. Every relationship and connection he makes is done with one purpose in mind: to further his goals.

When someone approaches Forget Me Not intending to seduce or romance him, he plays the role of a perfect gentleman. Or whatever is convenient at the moment, really. His keen eye allows him to quickly discern little details, until he fully figures out your type just so he can adapt accordingly. This is a fantasy that wears off overtime - once you overstay your welcome and outlive your usefulness.

And because Forget Me Not is too much of a coward to risk his reputation and hard work by being the one to break your heart, he manipulates the situation to come out of this relationship scot-free. If you can't find any reason to leave him on your own, don't worry, he'll make sure there's something.

But when it comes to him being interested in someone and navigating a romantic relationship...

When Forget Me Not falls for someone, he falls hard and fast.

I want to insist on the lack of interpersonal skills - Forget Me Not has gone years denying himself of something as simple as a friend, someone to confide in. His whole existence revolves around revenge. To him, there's no space for romance in his life, he has no time for something so "juvenile". He can't fathom the idea of being attracted to anyone. The muscle in his rib cage isn't capable of love, it's just there to keep him alive until the world is rid of humans.

And yet, as blind and oblivious as he may be to his own feelings, Forget Me Not falls hard and fast entirely because of how desperate for connection he is. Attraction is something that paralyzes him and affection is a parasite that worms its way into his heart.

When Forget Me Not falls for someone, he becomes impulsive and reckless, not a lot but just enough to be noticeable by those who see him regularly - there is this slightly intense and unhinged feeling to his words, as opposed to the suave and smooth talk he casually dishes out, like he's itching to unravel and show his true nature right there and then. It's something that you still pick up on, long after that conversation has ended, something that you must've heard incorrectly because it's a little out of character, coming from him.

This is because he has no fucking idea on how to deal with it, because he doesn't even know something is happening to him.

No matter what he does during this state, he finds a way to justify all of his actions because denial is his first and foremost coping mechanism. If he finds himself staring at you from across the room, it's because he's making sure you're behaving. To ensure you're not a spy or cause any trouble to other patrons! If he remembers your favorite drink, it's because he needs to get enough points to be on your good side. After all, you probably have a lot of information he could use. If his hand lingers on yours, it's because he was distracted. Etc, etc.

If it goes on for long enough without any sort of confrontation, it'll start to eat him from the inside. Forget Me Not will think that you're using some arcane skill on him to make him act this way before he acknowledges he has a crush on you. Suddenly, there's a whole new thing occupying his brain - whenever he's not dissociating at home, he's thinking about you and that's dangerous.

Surprises are the way to his heart.

It's very hard to catch his eye, since he doesn't care for appearance nor status - he just doesn't care, period. Again, love isn't an option for someone like him. But the one thing that will absolutely rock his world is being caught off-guard.

Forget Me Not is a great actor, he plays his roles in conversations perfectly, he studies the way people talk to each other, the way one must gesture and move, the appropriate amount of eye contact one should make. He micromanages every single aspect of conversations because diplomacy is his forte, it's something he needs to excel at. Long story short, he knows how each and every conversation should go for him to get his way.

Which is why hearing someone laugh when they shouldn't, a genuine snicker or a chuckle, is enough to give him pause. He's intrigued and lost, because people aren't supposed to behave like that. Not the type of people he's used to, anyway. Condescending laughter is to be expected, everyone is pretending to have fun, but a real laugh? Without any hidden meanings or implications? The audacity to go off-script, regardless of how that might affect you? That's what will inevitably put you right in his sights.

These surprises must start out small, however. Forget Me Not is a very jaded and vindictive person with a very fragile ego and stubborn mind - someone who openly goes against everything he stands for, regardless of whether they're right or not, will end up on his black list. As seen with his reaction to Druvis III choosing to move on from her grief, Forget Me Not doesn't do well with his beliefs being torn to shreds so suddenly.

This mentality about everyone being inherently rotten and bound by so many unspoken rules of conduct and whatnot needs to be challenged little by little. Because at the end of the day, Forget Me Not projects his own baggage onto the world, and he must ease himself into the idea that people (and himself) can have actual depth and be more than just a means to an end.

And sure, he has an obsessive personality - some of his behaviour stems from the need to figure out "the catch", like he's constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop when it comes to you, just so he can go "I knew it!" at the end. Forget Me Not, under all that aloof and detached confidence, is nothing but a wounded animal. Gaining his trust or approval is harder than it is losing it.

On the subject of falling for anyone who isn't a pure blooded arcanist.

There is the possibility that Forget Me Not may fall for a human or mixed - two groups that he, alongside Manus Vindictae, holds with extreme contempt and hatred. Right away, it goes against everything he stands for and, as stated before, he doesn't do well with his beliefs being challenged so abruptly.

Whereas Manus Vindictae is an organization that has no problem being so openly hypocritical in their practices (loathing humans, yet offering them salvation just so that they can be used as pawns), Forget Me Not is an individual who lives mostly within his own head, in a constant state of denial and delusion. The idea of falling in love is already ridiculous to him, I literally just spent so many paragraphs talking about how he needs to ease into the idea of forming any sort of meaningful connection, even if it's something he does yearn for and something that he does so horribly. So imagine the absolute fucking whiplash of falling in love with the representation of everything he despises.

Forget Me Not navigating relationships is already difficult enough, but him trying to navigate a relationship with a human or mixed - especially one that is vocal about his affiliation with Manus and his own opinions - is even harder.

But not necessarily impossible.

However, it would lean towards a godawful and unhealthy dynamic, in which he'll begin to blur the lines between affection and aggression. Think of an ourobos, a permanent loop of Forget Me Not being unable to let go while also pushing you away.

He scrambles to find any "rational" excuse to justify his attraction for you. If you're docile and compliant, he'll insist that you're "different" and "not like other humans" just to remain righteous and true to his beliefs by separating you from your roots. And if you're not afraid to call him out and argue with him, he'll feel validated in his beliefs and latch onto you like a parasite because "you need to be reminded of your place". It's unrealistic to think that Forget Me Not can change his mind and become a better person right away, he would need years to heal from his own baggage and biases, then even more time to undo all the things he's absorbed from Manus Vindictae.

But I know these types of dark relationships aren't everyone's cup of tea, so I won't go into detail about it! Other interpretations in which he manages to get rid of all the toxic sludge that is his emotional baggage and questionable morals are just as valid!

The way Forget Me Not acts when he's in an actual relationship.

Every relationship Forget Me Not has had so far has been for the sake of The Walden and/or Manus Vindictae, and he's always made sure to keep them at arms length anyway - so this would be the very first "proper" and official relationship.

And it's a mess. He reeks of insecurity.

Taking into account everything I've said just far, Forget Me Not could easily put all of that knowledge and masking into treating his partner like the gentleman he pretends to be daily. He could just do that! But it stops coming naturally to him the second he's in your presence. Because the thing that attracted him to you in the first place is all those details that set you apart from his "norm", Forget Me Not is stuck in this area of not knowing whether you'd prefer the person he pretends to be or something else, something he might not be able to provide. Note how it's "something else" and not just himself.

The idea of Forget Me Not as a person falls apart when inspected closely, and so he's left insecure and vulnerable. He latches onto you easily, in private and in public, shifting his focus to revolve around you instead - the brand, new and shiny light in his life - but lacks confidence when it comes to keeping you by his side without any sort of manipulation.

He tries, God, he tries so hard. But I can absolutely see him pull all sorts of moves on impulse. From really childish and petty things (insisting on being the only one to serve you drinks, subtly influencing the seats, so that you always sit somewhere he can see or without any of the other patrons bothering you) to genuinely insidious things (lying both to your face and behind your back to drive the people he considers "undeserving of your attention" away, keep you in the dark about certain topics).

It's a lot of back and forth, establishing boundaries and showing him the lines that shouldn't be crossed so that all these actions don't become the norm. To be in a relationship with him, you'll need a lot of patience to guide him or the backbone to set your foot down when needed. I'd say at this point, he'd definitely respond better to being challenged - you're his partner, after all, he holds you way above everyone else in the room, way above himself as well.

But once he's fully eased into the relationship? When he now knows you like the back of his hand? And you've shown that you're willing to stay, even with all of his faults? He becomes so very clingy, but also much more tired in your eyes.

Forget Me Not's antics - his possessiveness, slightly obsessive behaviour, etc - are replaced instead by this lingering feeling of sadness. Instead of kissing your hand in public to make a statement for the world, he holds your hand in private as if his life depended on it, because he now fully believes the relationship to be too good to last. It's like he's preparing to say goodbye before fully enjoying the present with you. Like you leaving him is not a possibility but the end of the road. Coincidentally, it's this "doomer" mentality what pushes Forget Me Not to be more confident when it comes to being vulnerable around you.

I like to think that Forget Me Not is extremely eloquent when needed, but he's physically incapable of talking about his trauma or any other unpleasant experiences in his life - it's directly a result of all this constant repression. So he wouldn't tell you about it, but he would still hope that you can understand him without the need for words. I just see him as a physical person once comfortable!

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

"Difficult to please"

"Focalors with a reader that can switch bodies"

Characters: Focalors x gn!reader

warnings: none

a/n: The obvious things right away: I've never written for Focalors before nor do we have much information about her yet, so I wrote her mostly from my gut feeling after seeing her in the Fountaine trailer.

Anyway, I love Furina as you might have guessed by me changing my theme for her. She's such a little gremlin and her design is so beautiful. I can't wait to see her and how she changes (well, hopefully somewhat to the better at least) in the story.

I’m going to use “Focalors” and “Furina” interchangeably, since I’m 99.99% sure they’re the same person, but hey, if Hoyoverse somehow pulls a huge twist on us and I get it wrong it would also be kinda funny.

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Focalors

To say that you were nothing more than a glorified babysitter for Fountaine’s Archon would have been a massive understatement. Once a young law student aspiring to one day become a judge, it didn’t take you long in your position as lawyer to attract the attention of your archon. Not in the “have a vision and beat up the bad guys” kind of way, however. Instead the weird clients you represented never failed to deliver her a somewhat entertaining spectacle, causing the Chief Justice to “volunteer” you as the Archon’s advisor… a role that, while sounding nice, de facto only had the responsibility of keeping her entertained enough to not sully any more court hearings than necessary with her cries of boredom.

When you found out about your powers to switch bodies, you knew better than to tell anyone other than your closest companions… especially Furina. While she got away with her attitude in her own body, you didn’t even want to fathom how many friends she’d be able to alienate or from how many shops she’d get you banned from if she did the same while running around in yours.

However, all of your hard work of keeping it a secret eventually turned out to be futile, as the Archon would eventually figure it out one way or another. After all, the reason she got so little done was not for a lack of ability, she simply didn’t care about most cases and delegated them to whatever judge crossed her path first, but when you began acting a bit stiff around her, the challenge of figuring the reason out was more than enough to keep her on your case.

If it weren’t for the fact that a small voice in your head worried about where to start a new life after having your entire image destroyed by the one currently occupying your body, you would have found the day in your Archon’s body amazing, you got to attend as many court cases as you wanted without anyone batting as much as an eye, got to have your first experiences as a judge and even didn’t have to pay for any of the most delicious food and drinks Fountaine got to offer. The stares you received from the other officials, probably wondering what could have happened for their notoriously difficult Archon to have such a good day, were a bit much at some times, but it was not like you were complaining.

“I want to change back!”, Focalors demanded the moment she stepped into her office, swinging the door behind her shut with as much force as she could muster and not even wincing in the slightest at how loud it was. Beelining towards the couch as she let herself fall onto it, letting out a groan of annoyance loud enough to make any bird sleeping outside fall out of its nest.

“Can’t handle being asked out all the time?”, you tried to crack a joke, knowing all too well that answering earnestly would only earn you a bored sigh.

“Ha!”, Furina let out a loud laugh before turning her face towards you. “Remind me to make you my court jester the next time we are in need of one”, she stated sarcastically before looking back at the ceiling. For your and Fountaine’s sakes however, you decided to disregard her order and to not to remind her of how she had just fired the last one for “being boring”.

“Aren’t you humans supposed to have interesting lives? What happened to ‘live every day like it's your last one’? Or is doing *this* what you all desire??”, she asked while extending her arms and wildly signaling into the air.

“What did you do all day?”, you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible even though your mind was starting to panic about what you might be greeted with tomorrow. But instead of answering your question, your Archon ignored you and continued to complain about how boring your life was, causing you to start worrying even more.

“I bet you loved this day, watching boring court cases, getting any food you desired for free, being asked for your opinion… eugh”, she let out yet another groan, making you wonder how easy it was for her to read you.

“Furina.”

“Anyway, I want my body back. So give it to me”, she continued to ignore you as she stated her earlier demand once again.

“What did you do while in my body, Furina?”, you asked one last time, grabbing both of her shoulders to force eye contact with her.

“You’ll probably have some explaining to do. I honestly want to see it all play out, it’s going to be the most entertainment I’ve had in months”, she answered off-handedly, causing you to bury your face in your palms as she continued on as if nothing happened.

“I’ll make you a judge as compensation, it’ll be a win-win. You’ll get to do what you always wanted to do and I may get one or two interesting hearings out of it”, Furina stated before pulling your hands away from your face and placing her forehead on yours, prompting the two of you to finally change bodies.

Yet, her offer caused you to feel even more conflicted than you already were. Finally, it was your time to let out a groan.

“That’s Nepotism.”

“I don’t care”, she responded bluntly, forcing you to use all your self control not to fall into the deep pit of hopelessness for your nation currently seeming to open in front of you. “Didn’t you want to become a judge?”

“Yes, but I want to earn it!”

What followed were a couple of seconds of silence before Furina turned around, walked over to a different couch, sat down, let out a long sigh and spoke a sentence so laced with irony that you didn’t know whether to cry or laugh at it.

“Fine. Geez, you’re so difficult to please.”

[aurora-daily]

Aurora: “We have this golden opportunity to truly understand each other beyond religions, cultures and how we look, but we choose to fuel our fear against each other”

An interview with AURORA for Hot Press by Riccardo Dwyer (June 24th, 2024)

There’s an ineffable air of Teutonic mysticism surrounding Aurora Aksnes – an Aurora-aura, if you will. Raised in a small municipality near Bergen, Norway, her elfish appearance, rare humour and all-round quirkiness have led some to cast the 27-year-old as a kind of Nordic folklore character turned chart clambering sensation.

Perhaps this hyperborean categorisation is deepened by her appearances on Frozen soundtracks and John Lewis Christmas ads, as well as a fan-made Wiki site which contains enough hyper-linked lore to make the creators of Skyrim blush.

It’s easy to see why Aurora’s attracted so many dedicated Warriors and Weirdos (her affectionate label for her fanbase). In addition to her one-of-a-kind comportment, she’s released three glorious, genre-meandering albums which artfully zero in on some of life’s biggest quandaries – from inner conflicts to questions about a deity.

Her fourth opus, as anyone shrewd enough to spot the mentions of ‘Blood’, ‘Skin’ and ‘Mind’ in the singles leading up to the project will know, suggests a thematic direction towards us, mere Homo Sapiens.

“With every album there’s one specific thing that really inspires and intrigues me,” Aurora acknowledges. “This time, it’s man’s relationship to man. It’s all about your relationship to your own organs, and how you listen to what they’re trying to tell you, especially the heart. I’ve been reading a lot about the history of anatomy and the abilities we give each organ, and how that varies depending on the era and country.”

The title of the LP is at once a statement and an enquiry – a cry for civility in a world seemingly devoid of compassion and a marker of the artist’s own anatomical reflections. It’s probably best to let Aurora explain all that good stuff though. So, then, What Happened To The Heart?

“That is the question,” she nods. “I’ve been thinking about that a lot. I’m very overwhelmed by the state of the world. We have this golden opportunity to truly understand each other beyond religions, cultures and how we look, but we choose to fuel our fear against each other. We’ve been given the chance to be connected more than ever, but we fail to connect in the right places.”

The golden opportunity for connection – the internet, and more specifically social media – is central to the rampant evaporation of love.

“When I was younger and the internet first came about, I remember trying to understand what it could mean for people,” says Aurora. “None of that happened. Porn and gaming happened instead. We haven’t really made it as far as we all might have expected.

“We see and hear each other, but we don’t feel each other with our hearts. We still let these heart-breaking things happen, we’re watching people in Palestine lose their lives for no reason. We should be on a path forward to a peaceful world, but it seems like we’re heading in the opposite direction.”

This, Aurora suggests, is a result of our human tendencies being exploited by the binary overlords.

“We talk into echo chambers in real life, because we surround ourselves with people who are similar to us, so we don’t often get challenged,” she reflects. “Then we have the internet, which is based on algorithms, so we end up in echo chambers there as well. It’s like the world doesn’t want us to learn from anyone else with a different opinion or to interact with people who oppose us, and that’s something that really scares me.”

UNITY AND LOVE

The issue of climate justice also permeates the record. The origins of What Happened To The Heart? are in fact rooted in environmentalism, after a call to change led Aurora to pose the record’s titular question.

“Indigenous leaders of the world joined together and wrote a letter, ‘We Are the Earth’, basically pleading with leaders of the mass-produced world to lead more with their hearts and less with their minds,” she explains. “The way we live is so heartless and cruel. We take whenever we can. And if we’re not forced to apologise or pay for it, we won’t.

“We will gladly let the people of the future pay for what we’re doing now. And we will gladly let someone far away pay for the clothes we wear, or the food we eat. We know that things are wrong, but we still just go along with it. That’s how the world is today. It’s a weird dynamic to live in as a human, because I don’t know what else I can say. It blows my mind to realise how deep our issues lie.”

Aurora is evidently passionate and well-informed. Does she see it as an artist’s responsibility to weigh in on issues of social justice?

“Well, scientists have tried to warn us about global warming for 50 years and nobody has listened,” she points out. “Leaders of the world don’t want to change their ways because it won’t benefit them. They want to have money now and to not have to think about the world later.

“Sadly, it’s come to the point that artists and musicians, as individuals who connect people, have to deliver the important messages. You have to reach out and appeal to the masses, and artists are the best at doing that – at engaging people and riling them up around unity and love, rather than fear and hatred.”

EIGHT BIG THEMES

She acknowledges her own role in what’s often a ‘mass-produced’ music industry.

“You can talk to companies who do things right, or to people who have a minimal carbon footprint,” she says, “but that’s not where your words are needed. It’s good when you’re part of an industry that has a lot to be better in. There’s more room for the things say to make a difference, instead of talking the same shit to people who know it already.”

What Happened To The Heart? holds up sonically too. It’s rife with romantic melodies, expansive synthscapes and arena-ready choruses, punctuated by Aurora’s distinct, soaring vocals – which have drawn comparisons to both Enya and Björk. However, Aurora finds it difficult to assess her own music.

“I don’t really see it when I’m in it,” she says. “I see it later, when I hear it. I don’t like listening to my own music. I would rather eat a baby.”

They must have some tasty infants in Norway, I laugh – the songs really do sound good.

“This album has a huge range,” she admits. “It’s been extremely fun to play around with, because I wanted it to symbolise both lyrically and sonically a process of pain – and the two paths you can choose, self-destruction or self-healing. With humans, it seems that pain often inspires more pain – hurt people hurt people.

“I see all of my music as being a really clear extension of me, and I think that’s really showing in the production. It starts really soft and spiritual, and then it ends on a really hard and human note. It’s going to be fun to sing live. I’m shitting myself with excitement.”

Using that phrase as a gauge of excitement rather than fear is indicative of Aurora’s uniqueness. She goes against the grain in most facets of her artistry, even imposing a Tarantino-style limit on her creative output. Strictly committed to releasing no more than eight albums, the decision tracks back to her early days as a musician.

“I started writing songs when I was about nine,” she says. “Songwriting was beginning to give me a new sense of meaning in life and made me feel better than anything else I had ever touched or let touch me, and I just had a moment thinking, ‘Oh my God, there’s so much I could write about. What do I want to say?’

“I remember taking it really seriously and writing down a map of all the things I want to say, and there were roughly eight big themes that I wanted to approach.

“First up was The Demons. The Warrior was chapter two and then chapter three was God. Now we’re at The Human, but yeah, there’s eight things and I’ve said four of them. It’s going well so far.”

[kouyou-arc-when]

I only trust you to tell me this. Does Dazai have any type he prefers physically??

From my memory, about 3-4 entries (databooks, interviews, magazines..) insist he doesn't have a type. I always say how funny it is that this is that one part that never changes, regardless of whether he's serious or joking. Guidebooks insist he loves beautiful women, but Kunikida always says the guy chases after any half-pretty lady, so perhaps it's questionable how low or high his standards truly are. That one interview said he's confident he can shape **any** woman to suit his tastes - and if that's true, I can't imagine whatever he wants to be too niche or specific if "any" woman can become it. Personally, I think Dazai sees "women" as just another hobby, a pleasant thing to waste his time on like booze or whatever. The dude doesn't approach this topic all that seriously - so, logically, any type of woman can be fun because she's something new to "explore". But for the joke of it, let me try and remember the women Dazai has expressed attraction for/approached (keep in mind that most no-name side characters are drawn to look very similarly). Higuchi (blonde, short, around his age) Sasaki (brunette, tall, around his age/older) Manga and LN waitress (brunette, stocky, much older) Anime waitress (brunette, his age?) Nurse (dark haired, older?) Murder victim Yamagiwa (brunette/dirty blonde, around his age or older since she was a regular and relatively experienced police officer, and I think you can't become one in Japan before 20, so yeah). Random lady that was walking that dog (brunette, same age?) A bunch of random women from wan/the anthology (purely from memory): -one was blonde, younger -one was a blonde waitress, she had no distinct features -two random older, brunette ladies He most frequently flirted with the waitress (anime and manga) and Higuchi (said she was pretty 3-4 different times). None of these women have anything in common, so it's safe to say he might just like anyone pretty enough. It's, of course, debatable who he's flirting with because he's really interested, and who's a target to use, but imo - he just doesn't have high standards for basic physical appeal. The waitress he flirts with, in the manga and LN, is based on the lady from No Longer Human - an older, married lady he tried to kill himself with, but fails. The main character of NLH, Yozo, says that was the only person he ever truly loved IIRC. That's why some people connect Dazai with "older" women, but was that just a coincidence or an actual preference of his? Who knows. I think it just happened that she was older, what's sure is that he's "open-minded"

[illicit-lilies]

I think this is it. If you see this and you know me I hope you know what this is. I'm sorry, I really really am, I tried so hard to be Lily but it just...just wasn't working. I fucked up too badly, its too late, I never should have tried this in the first place. I just wanted friends who saw me for the woman I desperately wanted to be but that was too much for me, every attempt to reach out has only hurt me more. I can't take it anymore. I've waited almost three decades for life to get bearable, not even good or enjoyable, just tolerable, and I think I'm giving up on that now.

I just wanted friends. I just wanted to see the ocean, and feel pretty for once, and start a garden and maybe even be a mother someday. God i...I wanted to be a mom so so badly. just wanted life to be easy, and fun, and comfortable. It never ead any of those things. I wasn't strong enough, not smart enough, not fast or brave or attractive or charismatic or cruel enough to earn my place in this world. Now I just want it all to be over with. There's so many of you I wanted to try to befriend but I was too much of an anxious failure to even try talking to you. I'm sorry, ill get out of the way now. I'm so sorry. This wasn't my world to try to live in. Everything g is just...too hard. I'm to scared to do any of it, let alone find pleasure and joy in it.

Don't feel bad. I was barely a person in the first place, certainly never felt like one anyway. Lilith Kai G. was born on August 8, 2023, and died shortly after this was posted. She wasnt a person, never was, never wanted to be, not in this world. She almost, almost had the body, the precorpse she wanted, almost. She was never prouder of herself than when she took that step, and she wanted to take many many more. Its ok though, if it took two and a half decades to start being herself, its not like she had a real, actual, fulfilling human life for her on the other side of Anxiety. She never made it to the water, but she knows that all the rest of you will. She knows it, you WILL. Please, you have to. None of you deserve the horror of packing away all your girl clothes and real belongings and tossing it in the dumpster. No one deserves that. It would have been scary if I had a personality left in my empty little skull. Please, you have to make it out of thisnlife alive. You have to. You have to make it.

You have to.

Lily wanted to love you so badly. Be nice to the pigeons and the weeds and the little bugs you find in your house please. Enjoy cloudwatching. Be nice to videogame characters and children's stuffed toys. Pay attention to the people who have trouble talking. Don't justify the existence of unfair social hierarchies by participating in them. Just...try to enjoy life. Help others enjoy their life.

[infernalodie]

𝐈𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐬𝐞 || 𝐋𝐞𝐱𝐢 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝

“𝘐 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘮𝘦 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘐 𝘧𝘦𝘭𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘶𝘱 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘣𝘺, 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵“

Pairing: Lexi Howard x Male!reader

ilomilo series

Summary: Did I ever say that you’re unpredictable?

(gif used is not mine)

Warnings: Angst

Words: 969

I wasn’t much of an optimist before. Really, I was just in the background of some rather sleazy drama flic that was beyond human comprehension or believability. And realistically, I preferred being the side character or extra. Helped me blend in and just be another face no one would ever think about again.

And that was a helpful trait with keeping “updated” on your life. Before work, you would go to the coffee shop down the street. Talk to the waitress, someone you must know from the daily schedule you’ve made before walking back and taking over for one of your coworkers. From there, on breaks, you just take a small walk two blocks and visit a comic book store whilst the old lady who owns the store covers for you.

From what I could tell, you preferred DC over Marvel. But just a quick Instagram search and I’m available to all the little bits about you. A music enthusiast, a comic geek, and a movie critic. None of the posts have a caption to capture what you were feeling when uploading them. But I can quickly tell that most kids in East Highland don’t have the same likings as you. Comments on these posts come from followers that do though, and they must be enough for you to say ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the world and post what you want.

And I know we have a date at 8 PM, but I just needed to see you. Can you blame me though? It’s important that I learn these things so we can talk and naturally get to know one another. This is fine. I’m taking things slower than I had in the past. I want this to be special compared to what it was like with Fez. You are special. You are different. And you are beautifully sweet with Maddy-

Wait. What the fuck?

What the hell is she doing at your work?

I know for damn sure that she is heavy into music like you or I, so why is she here, Y/n? From what I can see, you don’t seem all too impressed with her being our space as well. Brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in a glare as she spoke sweet nothings. It was despicable honestly. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that she’s just being friendly. But I know my friend and I know that in the time of her dating your brother, you two got to know one another. Now, on and off you two would talk, but she never went out of her way to show up at your work. So, what’s the change of heart?

Maddy moved around the counter, lips twisted in a smile that rivalled your unimpressed deadpan that looked incredibly attractive. “C’mon, Y/n. How long have we been at this?” Maddy inquired, stopping when she stood by your side. “We can just sneak into the office. Get a quick fuck in.” She closed the space, lips pressing to the edge of your jaw. “You are so much bigger than your brother.”

Listen, I have no problems with Maddy. Did she pull some stupid shit sometimes? Abso-fucking-lutely. Has she had a rough go when it came to your brother? Yes. But she is delusional. The whole argument she had with your brother in the hot tub is a testament to that and I think you know that as well.

So, what the fuck is her play here?”

“Maddy, it’s not a good idea,” you protested. “I’m not afraid to say that I am scared of Nate. I know what he’s done to you and Jules. Have you ever thought of what he might do to me if he found out we’ve been fucking?”

A groan fell from the girl’s lips. “He’s not going to find out, Y/n. I have no reason to tell him shit,” Maddy sighed, lips twisting in a grin. “C’mon. It’ll be fun. I’ll let you be rough.” With her hands finding yours, she began to pull and guide you, and you allowed it.

God, seeing her this dick whipped over you was insulting. Well, maybe not for you but you aren’t a guy to just throw yourself around. You were quiet, reserved, charismatic, and goddamn adorable when you didn’t mean to be.

This isn’t you. You aren’t the type to just give up on your job just to go get laid. This didn’t make any fucking sense. And even if I move down the sidewalk and try to get a better angle, I can’t see jackshit inside that office. Not to mention the sun glare coming right back at me.

I’m too exposed out here. If I can’t see you, that means I don’t know if you’ve noticed me or not. But this just means I have reasoning for Maddy’s clinginess to you. A manipulative, selfish, stupid bitch. I won’t let her do this to us. I won’t let her get between us right when I finally enter your life. I just have to figure out what I am going to do next, and I don’t yet have the faintest clue as to what that may be.

But what I do know is that this sharing shit isn’t going to work. If it be with someone more competent and maybe shared the same love I have for you, then this would be different. Because maybe I could love someone just as much as I love you. Except, this is reality and I won’t be doing any 60/40 bullshit. You are meant for me. We are meant for one another and Maddy is forcing herself into the perfect frame we are making together.

And somehow, I’m going to need to get her the fuck out of it.

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Lightning Never Strikes the Same Place Twice

Chapter One of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: Love stories are something special. All through history it is the greatest of love stories which have resonated in the minds of the public. This story, while it is a love story, could probably best be called a life story. Our cast of characters is unapologetically human. Maybe one day, you'll soon realize that Home is where the heart is, even when you don't know it.

Themes: angst, love, smut, attraction

Warnings: None is this chapter, unless you count getting struck by lightning.

Word Count: 1330

A/N: Hi All! It's finally here! After nearly two months of my character moodboards I bet you all are more than ready to see my actual story take flight! I know I am! As anyone who has seen the movie before knows, it's a little dated. There are parts of it which have not stood up to the test of time just over twenty years later. Those are the parts which I aim to fix. Thanks to @desert-fern for beta-ing this chapter for me, I truly appreciate it! Also, I feel like I can't say this enough, but thanks to @thedroneranger, @cherrycola27 and @mamachasesmayhem for being such cheerleaders over the past few months as I've been writing this story! I hope you all love it!

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Series Masterlist | Next Part

Like all great love stories, this story begins with a boy and a girl. The town of Pigeon Creek, Alabama isn’t known for much, but to you and your best friend, it’s the whole world. There isn’t a person in town who doesn’t know you. It’s that sense of security that has you sneaking out of your house with what has to be the biggest lightning storm you’ve ever seen hot on your heels. But you’re not going alone. You hop on your bike, riding as fast as you can until you reach your best friend’s house. The sky is dark and overcast, the gray of the clouds shot through with bright electric  streaks. It feels like it's going to start raining at any minute, the scent of petrichor heavy in your nose. But a little rain has never once scared you. In fact, it might be your favorite time of season. When it rains, the whole world feels clean and clear. Drenched in dewdrops, every minute feels full of promise. Today though, you’re not searching for the rain. You want the big bang, the kaboom, the lightning strikes and the thunder. You’re not witnessing it alone, either. Grabbing a handful of pebbles, you throw them, one at a time, until the window opens, and you see his disheveled blonde head stick out.

“What in the hell are you doing out here, Linley Mitchell?!” He’s whisper-shouting, his accent as thick as molasses as he rubs his eyes with his fists like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Honestly, you can't blame him. You vaguely remember a warning about the storm coming up on the radio when you were at home.

“I came to get you, you idiot! And don’t curse at me, Jacob Seresin! Your mama’d have your ass tarred as soon as you could blink if she heard you!” You’ve got your hands on your hips, your gap-toothed smile on full display as you glare playfully up at Jake. The wind whips around you, teasing your dark hair out of the messy ponytail at the back of your head and grabbing insistently at the thin hoodie you’re wearing. It’s ominously dark, and the entire world seems awfully quiet as you stand in Jake’s backyard.

But he’s not moving. You’re not witnessing this alone, so your voice takes on a wheedling tone. “There’s a lightning storm today, Jake! ‘Member when I found that book at the library? The one talking about lightning glass? I wanna see what happens if lightning strikes the beach! I want to know if there’ll be glass there! An’ you’re coming with me!” A wide grin over takes your face, barely visible in the darkness surrounding you, yet you know that Jake sees it. It’s a little shocking that he’s so reticent. You never have to try so hard to convince him to come along. 

“Alright, alright. Lemme put my shoes on, and I’ll be right there.” He sounds so fed up with you, but this is why the two of you work. You bring the crazy, and he tries to rein it in. That’s the way it’s been your entire life.

It’s not long before the creaky side door of the Seresin house squeaks open and closes with a soft thud and Jake trots out with his sneakers in hand. Jake looks worried, pausing for an instant like he’s expecting his Ma to come rushing out of the house to drag him back in by his ear. He shoves his feet into the worn canvas before bounding down the stairs.

“C’mon, Linley! Why are we looking for lightning, anyway? Y’know we’re supposed to stay inside. This is the worst storm Pigeon Creek has seen in about a hundred years!” You ignore him, though, jogging down the street as the storm clouds build and build. "Didn't you hear the radio say that?"

Those last words make your feet stop in their tracks. You probably should have explained a little bit better. “You wanted to see the lightning glass, dummy! That’s why!” Your grin is still wide, still open, but for the first time in your life, you can’t figure out what’s making your best friend look at you as he is. It has you feeling weird, the silence between the two of you more weighty than you were expecting. The moment stretches, like the finest of the spider webs in a gossamer strand between the two of you, at least until the first clap of thunder startles Jake into motion. He hugs you tight, smelling like sweat and dust. So do you, honestly. Summer in Alabama coats everyone and everything in that scent. 

“Will you marry me?” You can’t believe what he’s asking you, so you start running again instead. The lightning starts just as the green grass under your feet transitions to scrub grass and sand.

“Come on, Jake!” Excitement courses through your veins as you draw  closer and closer to the beach. 

“Slow down!” He’s huffing as he tries to keep up, green eyes fixating on your bouncing pony tail yards ahead of him.

Rather than listen, you speed up a bit more. “Hurry up, Jake!”

“Linley! I gotta get home. Mama’s gonna kill me!” He catches up to you just as the first strike of lightning hits the ground in front of you. “Wow, did you see that?” The wonder in his voice is mirrored on your face as the two of you stare at each other in wide-eyed wonder.

“One thousand one, One thousand two…” You start counting under your breath even as you jog onto the beach.

“So, are you going to answer me?” He’s really pushing for this, huh? Why now?

“No!” You just keep running, single-minded in your search for the all too elusive lightning glass.

“No, you won’t answer, or no, you won’t marry me?” You really can’t believe what you’re hearing. You stop running so you can respond.

“Jake Seresin, I’m ten years old! I got too much to live for!” Just as you say those words, lightning hits the ground barely six inches before you. You run in the opposite direction squealing in fright, only for Jake to tug you back to where the lightning struck.

“Don’t go that way, ya’ dolt! C’mere!” Jake leads you right towards the spot where lightning struck moments before.

The sand is melted into a pool of hot glass, glowing red in the dim light. 

“That’s so cool!” Your voice is awed even as you reach a hand out towards it.

“It’s hot! Don’t touch it!” Jake grabs your hand, smiling at you even as you look wide-eyed at the molten glass before you.

“We should be safe here!” His voice is full of confidence.

“Well, who says?” The wind’s picked up, snatching the words out of mouth before you’ve even said them.

“Well, everyone. Lightning never strikes the same place twice!” The two of you stand side by side, watching the clouds move as the storm winds whip around you. It makes sense, what he's saying. 

“Why would you want to marry me anyways, huh?” Looking at Jake reminds you of how the last growth spurt made him taller than you and how much you hate it.

“So I can kiss you anytime I want.” That was not what you were expecting. But you like that idea. It means that you don't have to share Jake. That your best friend is going to be by your side forever.

So ultimately, his words have you stepping closer and closer until you feel lips against your own. Your eyes flutter close as love washes through you. It's sweet and soft, a peck more than a kiss, but you wouldn't change it for the world. The lightning, however, had other ideas, zapping you and your best friend. That was your first kiss, in the middle of a lightning storm with the one boy you thought you’d love forever. Guess you were wrong.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@sarahsmi13s @atarmychick007 @the-romanian-is-bae @lt-spork @buckysdollforlife @blackwidownat2814 @praline357 @seitmai @cheyrenee @trickphotography2 @abaker74 @marrianena-library @angelbabyange @temptest13 @kmc1989 @im-an-adult-ish @chaoticassidy @inkandarsenic @lynnevanss @shanimallina87 @khaylin27 @mizzzpink @emma8895eb @hookslove1592 @desert-fern @horseshoegirl @thedroneranger @roosterforme @dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @mamachasesmayhem @hangmansgbaby @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls

[fuckyeahgoodomensfanfic]

Good Omens Fic Rec: The Sincere Way

Aziraphale had only been attending karate class for a few months. Anathema had convinced him to try it. She was picking up an extra day a week of training in advance of her next promotion. She was already a second-degree black belt, going for her third stripe. Sensei Crowley was serious and sour. Lithe and lean and, Aziraphale had to admit, gorgeous. But not warm. Usually, he seemed vaguely irritated. Even when Aziraphale remembered the Japanese vocabulary, providing the names of the techniques when asked, Sensei Crowley’s approval felt grudgingly given.

Length: 68,357 words

AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥🔥🔥

Best for: Mostly Safe in Public, Human AU, Slow Burn

Triggers: None

Read it here, fic by Tsyvia48

*Minor Spoilers* This poor fic got caught in the crosshairs of my fic rec hiatus. It had just finished as a WIP and I wanted to get a rec up quickly but then life got away. Well, silver lining that means I get to reread it again!

To set the scene, in this human AU, Crowley is Aziraphale's new karate instructor. This fic gives me the perfect amount of jargon, enough to really immerse me in the world and show that it's something the author clearly has a lot of knowledge about, without becoming a karate Wikipedia entry. It makes up a large part of the story, but it is used for story building and not just info dumping. I think it was a setting that ended up working great for them! A confidence builder for both.

Anyway, as you can guess, they end up striking a friendship. The attraction is there from the start, but neither are available right now. Both of them are in age gap relationships, that add a really complex and interesting narrative to the story. The Metatron being Aziraphale's partner here gave me the biggest ick, and I mean that as a compliment to the story. It was a choice I haven't seen before, and one that worked well! Not that I enjoyed that, I hated it. Good storytelling, insufferable character. Our boys will figure it out though, they always do, and with a classic "one bed" moment as well!

I really enjoyed this! Especially the setting, I loved what learning karate did for Aziraphale. How much more confident and at home he becomes in his body. I love that the story gives him that along with Crowley. His self love and acceptance doesn't just come from a partner, it comes from himself first. The partner is an added bonus. Definitely takes a page out of the show's moment with Nina acknowledging she needed to work on herself before she could move forward with Maggie. That's what this fic let them do! Mostly safe in public, until towards the very end! It's a very light and casual read, no major angst or stress. Slight moments of hurt, but the story is always right there to pick them back up and comfort them. Keeps them going, keeps them doing their best, the sincere way.

Read it here, fic by Tsyvia48

[misscammiedawn]

I want to talk a little about "disappearing" or 'dormancy' within the contex and vernacular of plurality. But this one is more of a little personal ramble and less educational essay so I'm doing it under a readmore.

After 9 days of absence where our system were desperately trying to get me back, I found myself in the middle of a Lush reacting to the scent of a lavender bath bomb. There was no gradient. No sense at all for it. No gradual return. The scent hits, I respond as if I had been there the whole time.

Disoriented but not impacted or missing any beats. The headache was kind enough to wait until we reached the safety of the car. I was back. As if I were never gone to begin with.

Describing these events has always been hard. It has certainly raised denial in our condition. We believe firmly that none of us experience 'lost time' or amnesia between parts. Recently it has been a hard time learning "you don't know what you don't know."

When one of us is missing it is fairly obvious and apparent. We no longer 'feel' them. The little spark and emotional resonance and all that is attached to it. Regardless of who is fronting that spark carries with it an essence that is part of who we are as a person. When it is me who is gone it is like our passion in hypnosis is gone, we lack the social flare, the theatrical spirit, the confidence. When it is Cammie gone we feel emotionally wounded, like we are merely emulating human behavior. With Camden gone it is like our discipline and impulse control are crippled.

I subscribe to the notion that we are all aspects of a single person and aspects are always there, even if they are not the leading force for one of our presentations. It's why denial is so rampant with us.

When we interact with aspects of life that would attract the attention of a part, there is an emotional reaction. Since we began communication work the "IM Windows" have been less impulse and more intention.

When a part is not there the lack of that feels oppressive. Like something that should be there but simply is not. We felt it before Discovery too, often. We just didn't have the context for it. Back then it was this overall sensation of feeling like we were "playing a character" and that there were times when the actions came natural to us and times when we had to perform the act of "me" rote and it was stiff and awkward.

Perhaps I should provide some context...

We have been having a rough time in trauma therapy recently. We are about 4 months into the Processing phase of our adapted multi-phase trauma recovery program. Safety, stabilization and processing are our phases, though discovery/mapping was its own thing.

Our therapist wishes for us to build a narrative of our life and identify the parts that were present during the traumatic moments. Childhood was mostly a blur but we identified some pivotal moments with Cammie and Craig and even worked out that Craig himself is a construct designed to prevent our father from seeing signs of our mother who he hated within us. We essentially invented a "with mum" and a "with dad" persona before we understood what such things were.

Good progress.

However childhood is still a vague blur and we rushed through it and are now into young adulthood.

When we were 16 in the span of 3-6 months we went through a lot. More than I feel safe sharing. But we ended up homeless and had to start working, broke all contact with our biological mother (did not speak to her for 7 years) and our father was involuntarily made an inpatient at a mental care facility for a second time.

We've been stalled on discussing this segment of our life for a month and Camden and Wynn, the parts that associate in with the memories, are exhausted. Cammie showed up to therapy in their stead and when prompted to speak to why those two weren't showing up she *went looking* and... we had an extreme reaction. Horribly extreme. The "my throat is closing, I can't breathe, my chest is caving in and I'm going to pass out" kind.

Poor sweetling...

Since then we have been horribly destabilized. I am still piecing things together because it's been a mess in here. Camden was gone for a few days, Craig a few days more. Wynn was present at first but has held back since the others came back. I did not. It was simply an absence where the Flirty Fae was involved.

I am reliably informed that there were attempts to get me back. From intentionally breathing in lavender scents to imagining notes being slipped under my door in our conference space to reading Marvel comics and taunting my proclivity for anime.

But there was nothing.

Meanwhile obvious memory issues were happening. Even in spite of feeling like there was not. That truly is a remarkable thing.

When someone "can't remember" it is a spectrum. There are times where this is the standard amnesia as depicted in fiction where a concept is inaccessible. You simply do not have access to it whatsoever. This can take the shape of denial in which you refuse to accept the missing information exists at all or confusion in acknowledging the feeling of your recollection does not match the evidence of it.

It can be as simple as *not thinking* about something. We are deeply involved in hypnosis as a kink and amnesia play runs on this principal. Learning how to put a thought or memory "on the shelf" and to trust yourself to just break the association and walk away from the thought.

Incidentally those with CPTSD have more flexible brains and experience spontaneous amnesia more often than neurotypical folx.

Apparently I need to do a full write-up on amnesia in both trauma and play.

In this current sense it is somewhere in the middle. It's not that we're trying to retrieve the memory and unable and it's not like we're explicitly not thinking about it. It's just the idea of "last Thursday" is just absent. Like I am moving with blinkers on. Typically there's an awareness of space that is mildly 4-dimensional. As I work on a project on Thursday I am aware of the reports I performed on Monday and how the flags from Monday relate to what we're doing on Thursday.

In this scenario we merely skip that step. It doesn't even prop up for us. We just do not even realize it's something we should be checking for. That is what I mean about blinkers.

Slowly but surely things seep back in. "I'm looking forward to the next issue of Hulk" becomes "We read it last week and it wasn't that good." and that is pretty much what the DSM-5 refers to as "normal forgetfulness". But the spectrum between "normal" and "abnormal" is a matter of perspective and context.

In this context not having any firm awareness of the past week and needing things to be fed in slowly is just odd.

So... how do I experience an absence?

With our panic attack in session, Cammie came back 5 hours later still in panic. It's not a confusing jump from "we're talking to our therapist" to "we're talking to our girlfriend????" and more "the wave of emotion that was being repressed has returned and we're back in the panic attack hangover phase"

If that makes sense? There's no jump. It's just a continuation.

With the 9 day gap it's kind of the same. I actually do not remember when I last fronted. I do not remember being missing. It feels like I was here the entire time and nothing weird happened. Evidence to the absence is... it doesn't feel right, even if I know it is.

It certainly explains the invisible nature of the condition. Even after Discovery and enough therapy that we have clear internal communication we still are inclined to pave over any blips. Act like everything is normal, always.

And now all is just as it was, as if nothing happened.

We're back to Stabilization work in therapy. It shall take a while to get back to processing. I do not know what lessons are to be learned from this experience but there is a lot of data points.

All these years and we're still learning how to navigate this annoying brain of ours.