#on both writing and txt

[koqabear]

i hope no one takes this the wrong way bc its got no ill intent but- ive never viewed writers as writing machines (nobody should!!) and more often than not i expect them to get stuck sometimes , not because im undermining them or anything, but idk a lot of writers (at least ones i interact with) are uni students like me so i feel like its just the norm to get writers block and/or periods of procrastination, in fact, i hope any writers going thru that rn don't pressure themselves too hard to write ☹️ you on the other hand... 😭 i definitely do not view u as a machine or writing generator do not get me wrong,, but u definitely are SO big brained and creative the way you post formatted fics at such a consistent rate and they're all so well thought of,, none of them are what i would consider basic in terms of trope n plot. swear it feels like mini novel after mini novel lol

this is meant to be a compliment of how on top of the game u are ,, not trying to put you on a pedestal and put the pressure on & overwhelm u!!

this differntiates u from other writers in the best way possible. not sure if u are familiar with nctblr writers but on the top god tier untouchable level of tumblr writers lies you n neopuppy ☺️ i mentally have an organization system i associate writers with, and although its not necessarily a ranking or hierarchy, that tier is the only "tier" there is that i consider above everyone else whom i don't "rank" in anyway, but rather group and categorize based on writing styles n content! yall just stand out that much :')

idk if this made any sense im sick n i just took a nyquil thats starting to kick in T_T apologies this ask is kinda messy n ugly

-dvp anon🫡

OHHHH???! THIS IS SO -@;!:@:! ??!!!!! SUCH AN INSANE (/pos) THING TO SAY IM A LITTLE SPEECHLESS RN??

i feel like the reason i’ve been posting so much is bc i’ve been on break and i’ve been trying to take advantage of this free time i have! once classes start i’m scared that i won’t have as much time/opportunities to write, so that’s kinda why i’ve been jumping on like. every idea i get ever. (but then again, i realize now that throughout this year i was able to handle both my assignments and fics. i’m a little weird sorry.)

but omg. you can’t say stuff like that to me like ofc i’m familiar with nctblr writers 😭😭😭 you thinking that i belong anywhere near the tier neopuppy is at is a little insane to me my jaw dropped when i read that alsndks

i hope you rest and get better soon!!! thank you for unleashing such an insane compliment on me omgldjsk

[randomalistic]

Just for funsies who is/are your #1 comfort character(s), how much do they mean to you & how long have you known of them. Dump it all in the tags brother✌️

[bee-ina-boat]

pattern ive noticed <3

[unheavenlycreatures]

haha what if we were the only two of our kind, and we met up in a moonlit church at the end of the world underneath the stained glass windows with only the cold, dead eyes of God as our witness, and i ripped your arm off and attached it to myself so now I always have a part of you with me??? (and we were both lesbians????) hahaha just kidding lol... unless 😳😳😳

the WIP i posted back on i believe wednesday??? below:

im so relieved to finally be done with this piece, i havent made visual art in so long ^^ now i can go back to trying desperately to figure out how to beat 1-4 without hurting my wife and writing fix-it fic

[mohntilyet]

speaking of veilguard kind of going nowhere. i am so mad over there being no in depth epilogue. at least tell me what happens to the factions that are being led/guided by people rook influenced !!!!!! all these companions have obvious obligations outside of the veilguard, and they're all dedicated to the lives they lived before they joined this team, so of course they would go back. what effect did bellara deciding to keep the archive have on the elves? neve decides to protect dock town by any means necessary, so what does that mean for a blighted minrathous? everything to do with harding and the titans ????!!!! and solas just accepts being trapped because he's been 'outplayed' DO NOT MAKE ME LAUGH!!!! somebody has got to tell me what happens after the world gets 'saved' because the south in chaos, minrathous almost destroyed and the last of the elven gods being dead is like. crazy. and the companions just commenting things i already know is really not cutting it for me

[buckevantommy]

i know everyone's excited about the boys using terms of endearment with each other, but i've stopped reading so many fics bc they're being misused and/or overused - honey when it should be babe, baby when it should be sweetheart, darling when it should just be their name - and tbh idk if these authors have zero comprehension of what works on the page and for different kinds of scenes and for the characters in general, or if they're just projecting or it's a wish fulfilment thing - which is understandable - but it's one of those sticking points that will make the characters feel OOC and can take the reader out of the story bc it no longer feels like their blorbos and bc they lose trust in your ability to write them.

[incesthemes]

as i've rewatched seasons 1 and 2 of supernatural i've been pondering and hypothesizing reasons why john was so adamant on not letting sam know about his destiny. why he was so intent on keeping this secret, why he didn't want sam knowing about monsters, why his role in their hunts appeared to be research-oriented and thus away from the action. my perspective on ignorance and censorship is that it enables further harm, so if john were going to effectively protect sam, it would stand to reason that sam should have a comprehensive understanding of his destiny and what he's up against: give him the tools to fight.

this is obviously not the route john went, so then i have to question why that is—what about censorship was so appealing to him that he thought it not only the best way to keep sam safe, but perhaps even the only way to keep him safe, based on how he begged even dean to keep sam's fate a secret from him in his final words?

so i got to thinking. namely, about the fact that azazel wants sam to be hunting: he killed jessica with the intent to drag him back into the life, which implies that if sam is hunting, he is going down the path azazel wants him to go—he's following his destiny. this aligns with the everpresent theme throughout season 1 that hunting is a monstrous lifestyle, that hunting turns people into monsters. if sam is destined to become a monster, then hunting is the most sure-fire way to get him there.

if azazel wants sam to hunt, then john would need to take the logical opposition and keep sam out of hunting—so, he wouldn't tell sam about monsters until he has to, he'd give sam more passive roles once sam is participating in hunts, he'd train sam in self-defense but not explain why. and importantly, he wouldn't talk about mary, who is the root cause of this lifestyle, the impetus for their revenge quest, more than he has to. if the goal is to keep sam as far away from hunting as possible, and if john is someone who thinks ignorance keeps someone safe, then this more or less explains most of how sam was raised: on the fringes of the family, excluded and sheltered.

but weirdly enough, it wasn't until i was reading east of eden the other night that i finally understood the perspective being presented: late in the novel, the character lee says "when the first innocence is gone, you can't stop."

it made me remember that sam picks. he is a character who wants to understand the world around him and his place in it. if something is bothering him, he turns it over in his head until it consumes him. dean places doubt in sam's head in 2x10 and it obliterates him by 2x11. he's convinced he's going to become some horrible monster because he never stops thinking and trying to figure things out. when his memory is wiped in 4x17 and normal guy sam wesson finds out his coworker is the guy from his weird dreams, he pursues him relentlessly until they're back hunting. when he discovers the wall death put in his mind to keep his hell trauma out in season 6, he pushes and can't stop until it starts crumbling around him. he's intelligent and clever and he wants to know everything. and when he doesn't know, he picks.

and the only way to stop a person like that from picking is to not let them know that there's something to pick at in the first place. that's what the quote from east of eden means: once you catch wind of something, you want to pursue it until you're satisfied. curiosity kills the cat.

and what john is up against is fate itself. something that isn't supposed to be messed with, something that's supposed to be unavoidable. so trying to thwart it is tricky business. he has to be careful.

i think working under that logic his response makes sense, even if it wound up being a self-fulfilling prophecy anyway—sam was always going to find out, and sam was always going to pick. there was nothing john could do in the end to stop it, and trying to keep sam ignorant only made him that much more desperate to know. but that's the great tragedy of it all: john was given an impossible choice, and he's a deeply flawed character. he did what he thought was best, and it only made things worse.

i like this interpretation because it ties all of john's choices together really well; it explains a lot about his character and gives a nuanced and rather reasonable explanation for why he did what he did: a dad who wants the best for his kid does what he believes will set him up on the path to success. when the first innocence is gone, you can't stop—so john does his damnedest to keep sam innocent, even to his dying breath.

the problem comes down to that someone's damnedest isn't always good enough, and that sometimes someone's damnedest ends up benefiting the enemy instead.

[sakitenmaenjoyer]

how ppl think ruikasa act:

tsukasa: rui, don't tease me >_< it's embarrassing....!

rui: ahh, but you're so fun to tease~ your blush is so cute

tsukasa: hhh...well i'm gonna get back at you one day! you'll see! then-then you'll be the cute one!

rui: hmm...i'm looking forward to it~

how ruikasa actually acts:

rui: ...to solve your problem, exposure to productions with insects might do well to lessen your phobia of them. we haven't had many results with the physical fake ones, so ones behind a screen could be more effective :] we could slowly chip away at your fear, one step at a time

tsukasa: or it could make it worse....

rui: well how about it?

tsukasa: hrhg....that sounds awful...but i don't want a repeat of what happened on the movie set, and it's not like there are going to be real insects....mumumumum [shudders] fine! i'll take you up on your challenge!

rui: perfect. now, here's a list of movies, i want you to look up behind the scenes for them. in a week from now, we can watch all of these to see if the exposure works

tsukasa: alright... wh- WHY ARE ALL OF THESE HORROR MOVIES

[definitelynotshouting]

(completely clueless about mcyt i just like isat and stumbled across the works using your prompts) what is temtober and have you posted the prompts list you made anywhere?

EIFBKSSN I WAS WONDERING WHEN I WAS GONNA GET AN ASK ON THIS

my beloved friend @/isjasz was lamenting yesterday that she couldnt find an alternative inktober prompt list that sparked joy and, well. I actually love cooking up prompts, so i offered to make her a custom prompt list!! I spent all day yesterday on it and today my lovely friends @/kunehokki and @/corvidaearts dove in to make me a cute graphic so i can post the whole list for everybody else to try. The prompts i created also function as a poem when read all together, bc after i made them i saw an opportunity and i never say no to getting a little crazy 😂😂😂

Im waiting for the graphic to get finished before i post the entire list, but here are the first three since it probably wont be posted until tomorrow:

revealing your nature

on the edge of a knife

one eye open

If anybody else decides to try my prompts for the month, please tag me!!! I desperately wanna see what yall make :D

[familyabolisher]

toiling away in the google docs mines trying to figure out how to get my reading of lolita as a horror text scaffolded by gothic/paranatural touchstones to merge with my reading of lolita and salò as works similarly concerned with the aestheticisation of sexual violence

[thekidsarentalright]

i cannot imagine how cathartic it was to make miss missing you like. this song that patrick started writing during the hiatus but stopped because it felt too much like a fall out boy song, this song that is very very easily interpretable about fob/pete and patrick’s dynamic, this song about missing the feeling of missing someone/something, missing the feeling of wanting them but now the sting has worn off and you miss when it stung. this song was then brought back on the table when pete and patrick started working together again and pete helped finish it off just like he would with patrick’s lyrics during tttyg and i just. i cant imagine the catharsis of writing a song about all of that with someone who you had began to miss missing. what a full circle song and moment for them to find each other again and heal such a fresh wound with music that is their love language

[pareidolla]

man putting together all the stubbroken stuff is my canon is going to be so embarrassing. like yes, they're oil and water and loathe being around eachother most of the time. yes, they share the same bed and read and drink and bathe together anyway. yes, they would openly admit they find the other attractive if they weren't such a freak. bitter married couple without a wedding ring. worst roommates in the entire household

[sirrentxt]

finally posting another snippet of the conference fic :) this time it's carlos' feelings on god. for a change

The elegant curve of his back as he sits there, the beauty in the delicate ladder of ribs, skin stretched over the ridges, kissed—not sun-kissed, no, untouched by the sun; kissed by men, ones like him and ones entirely different. He looks like a piece of art, gently backdropped by the moonlight, and still all Carlos can think of is that the windowsill must feel freezing cold on a bare ass.

“—God, Carlos.”

It takes him by surprise.

“Hm?”

“What do you think about Him?”

“God?”

“God.”

He hesitates. Luis watches him from the corner of his eye, blowing rings of smoke through one another. Carlos studies the shape of his lips as he does.

He shrugs, at first, dismissive; snorts at the question as if it's a joke and Luis chuckles with him, but takes a longer drag with that soft smile of his—“I'm serious!”—and the moment feels heartfelt in its absurdity. Carlos shakes his head and goes quiet, focused on the subtle whistle of the cold draft coming from the window. He looks away. Luis, for a second, thinks that he won't reply.

And then he does.

“Not much,” he says, fidgeting with the corner of a pillow. “In my line of work, the irony of God becomes obvious pretty fast. Then you either believe, or you don't. Everybody makes that choice for themselves. I choose whatever lets me sleep at night.” His fingers trace the hem, absent-minded. “Neither option makes it much easier.”

(What he doesn't say is, I've said more goodbyes than prayers; I've killed more men than I can count. I've orphaned boys and widowed wives—I have no place in God's heart and he has no place in mine, for He was supposed to watch over our house but the roof came down anyway, and He let my brothers bleed out on the floor. I'm twenty-one and I can't trust God's love for His children because I've never seen it; I can't trust it because I've seen more dead boys than live ones.)

It catches Luis off guard.

madrid, 1996: part 3, presumably // i had a question

[odysseys-blood]

literally how i feel any time i read this line. absolutely NOT

i think he's a great mirror type character for the mc depending on how much you draw on the default ra-on and their characterization, but more specifically their feeling of inferiority to solomon (which i take for my mc loyal). both the mc and bael are stuck filling in for a role for a king that neither feels they're well equipped for or were even born to hold and the fact that bael's so used to taking the fall that he's automatically ready to do it for you too is just. man. orz

[zeeckz]

tell me more abt kazeva thoughts 👀

Oh, is my kazeva propaganda already working?

First of all, I will definitely end up rambling, so this will get long enough

I'm sure it's gonna turn out messy as well (sorry), but I'm gonna divide it into younger kazeva & then older kazeva (aka Master Miller & Big Mama)

Kazuhira Miller and EVA

Although I didn't really contextualize how they end up together and such, I think it might've been EVA visiting BB while they're in Costa Rica - Kaz happens to see her and, well, you know how he is; she caught his interest and now it's his mission to make out with her

100% sure he is absolutely devastatingly dying to fuck her, might even say more so than how badly he wants to fuck Cécile (EVA is more bold, so she presses buttons Cécile wouldn't or would take longer to do so; plus Cécile is sooo easy to tease/annoy, EVA not so much)

Whether they previously had Intel about each other (or just one of them, most likely EVA about Kaz, I think) or not is just as funny to me; even if either of them knows, they'll pretend they don't

If they know - they're not only trying to flirt, they're also trying to demonstrate which one of them is better at it; whoever falls for the other first, loses. There's A Lot of compromising situations. Also Kaz sure loves risking his life by chasing his boss' sexfriend, don't you think. If the sauna tape was bad enough, he gets caught doing this...

If they don't know - they're flirting with just a certain amount of caution, more secretly, in an more sutble manner, slowly learning more about each other as they take their chances with one vague suggestion or another "accidental" touching (Kaz is going crazy because she knows how to keep things slow and he wants it as quick as possible)

If EVA already knows about Kaz - she's just as bold as she needs to, enjoying every little moment of caution and doubt she can sense from Kaz after a suggestive pose or invitation and making sure to put him in more compromised situations as his patience runs out and his libido goes higher

If it's only Kaz who knows about her - again, he's basically chasing his boss' sexfriend, so he needs to be really careful with his actions; she's wondering why there's some blond guy who seems to have more than enough work to do (must've heard someone refer to his rank), just walking by her side, showing her all the "secret" corners of Mother Base; she'd eventually hear some gossip about his high libido and start teasing him for fun, she's interested to see how far he'll go given how straightforward he can be after certain actions

Regardless of this, she Will try to get him caught by Big Boss just to see what happens; thus, Kaz still needs to be particularly careful with what, how and where he does things, specially if he already knows who EVA is and what her past with his boss is

It might be obvious because we're talking about Kaz, but he definitely has dirty thoughts more often than not and they get dirtier, and harder to ignore, the closer they become

EVA seems to have a toned body and there's no denying she knows what to do to get what she wants; I think Kaz would praise her appearance more often than to other women because of it, as in, he admires not just her body but also her ability to carry other people's thoughts with it

They, as a couple, cuntify each other more (not trying to over-cuntify each other, they're only enhancing each other with their natural cuntiness)

I feel Kaz would be particularly more passionate with her in bed than he is with other women, the same way he would with Big Boss amongst other men

Kaz seems to be the type to make gifts to get a woman's attention, EVA would try to take advantage of that just to take some profit while they're at it, but Kaz is aware of this (you can only fool him to an extent, he notices more things that you'd consider)

Regarding that, it's only natural a man like him would pay attention to the smallest things; it's surprising for EVA (I mean... Big Boss is definitely the exact opposite of attentive in this kind of matter) and she's a bit wary, but can't deny she likes it

As infatuated as he might be with EVA, he'd still hook up with anyone during their, uh. Mating rituals

Likewise, she'd notice his special interest towards Big Boss pretty quick as she did with Ocelot back then, so she'd intentionally be really touchy and affectionate with him in front of Kaz

Also, you gave me the perfect occasion to highlight this beautiful tag

I've been thinking about it since I got it, so I might as well have it on a better display

This is kazeva. This ship is about Kaz's horniness breaking its cage and him trying not to die in the process, either by causing himself a heart attack (either by himself or by fucking people / Eva further past exhaustion) or by being beaten up by his boss. Like, c'mon, he could barely keep his temper with Big Boss only wearing regular underwear, imagine what EVA's cold-calculated cuntiness would do to that man. If that alone isn't convincing enough, I don't know what is.

He's also constantly fantasizing about making out with both of them at the same time btw.

Now,

Master Miller and Big Mama

See, these two are The Bisexual Swingers Couple™©®. Just. Look at them. There's no way they don't give off that vibe.

Of course, they both ride big motorbikes, wear leather jackets (probably a whole leather outfit tbh), heavy boots and matching helmets

I think they'd be on the move pretty often, and would stay in rather small, isolated places (like a little cabin on the woods, or a somewhat shady place, it's not like they, of all people, would be robbed anyway; probably already scared the shady people) instead of popular guesthouses/hotels and such; they like being alone together

Not strictly kazeva I guess, but I think they'd always send little gifts and pretty postcards (with a few words written in the back) to David and company, from all of the places they've been in

This one is entirely new, but I can imagine them passing by any animal shelter, stopping by to say hi to ALL of the animals there, and then anonymously leaving a quite surprisingly big donation before moving on

They are Definitely that couple that's been staring at you from across the bar, buy you a drink and later invite you to have a threesome

They get everyone's attention anywhere they go, not just because of their outfits, but also how really good-looking they are (again, they're cuntifying each other and I've seen more than enough drooled floors when it comes to Master Miller, it's about time people do the same with Big Mama and this is the perfect chance to do so)

They likely get everything they want - they're attractive, imposing, have more than enough experiences under their belts, and have the best of social skills. How can you deny them anything. How.

^This was only meant for you to see my vision, but.

Have you seen her glasses? Close enough to Kaz's vibe. They're definitely matching outfits, whether that's only with accessories or the whole outfit depends on the day, but they WILL match one way or another

They definitely caress each other's hair. They pet it, they play with it, they tie it, they braid it. I bet their hair is the silkiest thing ever.

I can see them borrowing each other's clothes - again, she seems quite toned, with shoulders wide enough to look good wearing Kaz's clothing even if they don't perfectly fit her size (oversized fashion is pretty nice anyway); as for him, I think he'd be more limited due to size difference, but he'd manage to take the most out of his possibilities

C'mon just ship them already

[snapdragonling]

the truth will out

imbris/sorrel, 1.9k, childhood friends AU, rated M for the prompt 'accidental i love you's during sex'

Sleeping with Sorrel was a little like putting his hand on a hot stove; bad for his health, and you’d think Imbris would’ve learned his lesson the first time but no, it takes more than one mistake to teach ol’ Imbris a lesson, it takes a few hard hits on the head before he learns anything, he’ll need the whole relationship to blow up in his face before he stops making stupid decisions and clinging to any scrap of warmth he’s given, even the ones he most definitely doesn’t deserve.

In his defence— nothing. He has nothing to say in his own defence. He’d invited Sorrel up again, like the selfish, weak-willed piece of shit he was.

(And Sorrel said yes, is the other side of this equation, but it still adds up to being Imbris’ fault according to his working, scrawled in the margins of his spiralling thoughts.)

So here he is, fucking his best friend again, his formerly-estranged, only-recently-rediscovered best friend, who’d shown up and parted the miserable sea of Imbris’ life like bloody Moses, who’d been the bright light he cleaved to like a moth for the past year, whose friendship he would have done anything to hold onto. Except, apparently, keep it in his pants.

True to form, he ruined all the most important things.

It might have been a bad decision but at least Imbris was applying himself diligently. Sorrel’s lips were kissed red, his hair was wildly askew, and now Imbris was giving him head with more focus and determination than he’d put towards anything else in his entire life, eyes closed in concentration, lovingly mapping every inch (of which there were a fair few) with his tongue—

—until suddenly he’s not giving Sorrel head at all, because Sorrel has manoeuvred him — practically manhandled him — so that he’s lying on his back where Sorrel had been lying moments ago, and Sorrel is kneeling over him with his hair a little sweaty and his eyes unsure and hazy, saying “Can I— do you want to—” with one hand against Imbris’ ass.

And Imbris says “Yes please Jesus fuck” so fast he’s practically babbling, barely restrains himself from saying I want you inside me so fucking bad which is a little forward even for him, and then Sorrel is leaning over him to rearrange the pillows.

Imbris almost laughs at the absurdity of it: his best friend thoughtfully organising the bed so that he’d be more comfortable while they fucked, as if he wouldn’t have settled for a bathroom stall or a car or an alleyway. Who would’ve thought, all those years ago? Who would’ve thought even one year ago? (He’d definitely thought about it, but that’s different.)

He knew Sorrel was an attentive lover from their first accidental night together (which probably couldn’t be called a one night stand anymore, given that he was back for seconds) but this was a new level of hell— bliss— whatever. Sorrel was so gentle with him Imbris could’ve screamed. He kept kissing the inside of Imbris’ knees as he worked, free hand stroking his thigh, brow slightly furrowed in concentration.

Imbris casts his eyes to the ceiling with a reedy moan.

See, sleeping with Sorrel was like putting his hand on a hot stove, but it was also a little like staring at the fucking sun. Imbris couldn’t look at him for long, for health reasons, and the sight was still seared into his eyelids whenever he glanced away; Sorrel’s beautifully dishevelled hair, the beautiful flush high on his cheekbones, his beautiful eyes dark with desire and something almost like reverence. Angels were real and there was one in his bed, working him open with his fingers.

Twice he has to call for a time out, which (based on his apologies) Sorrel clearly thinks is because he’s doing a bad job. Really it’s because Imbris keeps toeing the line of his climax just from the feeling of Sorrel’s careful attentions, and the mere thought of what would happen next, and the blatant, burning want on his best friend’s face. He gasps and squirms and tries to think about unsexy things, a difficult task in his current predicament.

It crosses his mind that Sorrel’s incorrect read on the situation might make him stop. Can’t have that.

“Need a second or I’m gonna come,” he says, to clear things up, and Sorrel says “Oh” with his eyes wide, and Imbris realises suddenly that that’s the problem, it’s Sorrel’s big fucking eyes, he can’t do this with Sorrel looking at him like that, at least not where he can see.

He wiggles around onto his front, mashes the pillows into a different shape, slides one a little lower and lies down again. “This is easier,” he says over his shoulder. “Carry on.”

There’s a long, long pause, a solid five seconds, may as well have been an eternity. Then Sorrel’s hands are on him again.

And that was better, there was Imbris’ strategic mind at work, now he could finally focus on the sex without Sorrel’s beautiful eyes boring directly into his, flaying him to the bone. He could pretend that it was someone else behind him, not the man he was in love with.

He’s very proud of his plan until Sorrel finally caves to his demands to “hurry up and get on with it”, at which point nothing on God’s green earth can help him.

It’s slower than he’s used to. It’s maybe the best thing he’s ever felt in his life. Imbris knows he’s being loud and can’t help it. Sorrel keeps saying he’s doing good, he’s so good, he feels incredible, which is frankly very nice of him, but has the side effect of making Imbris feel like he’s gonna combust or implode or something of that nature, a heat like the sun burning in his chest. There’s nothing much he can do about his own moans except try to stifle them in one of the pillows, which doesn’t really help.

He has one hand splayed out on the mattress to steady himself. Sorrel leans down to lace their fingers together, kissing Imbris’ shoulder on the way there, then his neck, then the top of his spine. His lips feel like a brand against Imbris’ skin. 

“I wanna look at you,” he says breathlessly. “Can I—”

Beautiful bruising eyes be damned, Imbris would have granted him anything in that moment. He immediately reneges on his strategy. “Yeah, yes,” he manages, and then Sorrel’s pulling away and they’re rearranging themselves again, weird game of Twister, and Imbris is on his back and Sorrel is leaning down to kiss him, and Imbris can’t remember ever feeling so much, can’t remember sex ever feeling like this, can’t remember thinking his heart might burst from how badly he needed someone, not just now but always, needed them forever, wanted this for the rest of his life, and all he can think is I love you I Iove you I loveyouIloveyouIloveyouI

“What?” rasps Sorrel, face and voice coloured with shock.

“Oh fuck,” says Imbris, and then he can’t say much of anything because of course now he comes, absolutely terrible timing, grasping the sheets and Sorrel’s shoulders and making a sound like a wounded animal. Dimly he registers Sorrel curled up over him, rocked by the waves of his own pleasure.

Really bad climax, after all that. He can’t even attempt to enjoy it. What a fucking waste.

Afterwards, they go to separate sides of the bed like actors taking their places in a scene, the silence a loud and living thing. Imbris feels sick beyond belief; slightly disconnected from his body. He considers making a run for it, from his own damn apartment. He considers diving out the window. That would give the neighbourhood something to talk about — naked man plummets from fourth storey, manages to look pretty guilty on the way down.

But of course he’s too much of a coward even to flee, after a fuck-up of this magnitude. Maybe if he lies completely still Sorrel will forget he’s here, and forget what happened, and forget what he said.

“Was that true?” Sorrel asks quietly.

Imbris thinks, suddenly, that he might cry. There were those post-coital emotions hard at work, hammering against all the keys of his internal piano, making him feel everything at once. Here it was, here was the reckoning, here was the price he paid for his stupidity. May as well own up to it now, go out in a blaze of glory.

“Yeah, Sorrel,” he says, and hates the way his voice cracks in the middle. “Yeah. It was true.”

No reply.

“M’sorry,” he whispers, and now he really is going to cry.

Someone beats him to the punch. He hears the sound of quiet sniffling from beside him.

Imbris’ stomach drops right through the bed, right through the floorboards, down four storeys into the ground. “Oh, no,” he says, rolling onto his knees, hands hovering above Sorrel like he’s afraid to touch him, which he is. “I’m so fucking sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll leave, I’ll book flights in the morning, you’ll never see me again, I’m so sorry, you mean so much to me, I never meant to say anything—”

Sorrel puts his hands on either side of Imbris’s face and drags him down into a kiss.

It’s not a very good kiss. Sorrel is half-crying, face wet with tears, and Imbris is too startled to kiss him back, just sort of kneels there like a stunned mullet, hands still frozen in the air above Sorrel’s chest, heartbeat rabbiting wildly. Some part of his brain is trying to do the mental arithmetic: confess love, make Sorrel cry, get kissed. It didn’t add up. He was never very good at maths.

When Sorrel lets him go he’s smiling shakily. Imbris stares down at him like he’s never seen him before.

“I’ve been in love with you since I was fifteen,” says Sorrel. “I thought I’d moved on, and then you were back in my life and I fell in love all over again, even harder. I didn’t want to spook you so I didn’t say anything. It was killing me, not saying anything.”

“What,” Imbris says faintly, not really a question, mostly a plea.

One of Sorrel’s hands is still at his face, cupping his cheek. He looks so beautiful it hurts Imbris’ heart. “Couldn’t you see that I loved you?”

Well, no, thinks Imbris. Clearly not.

But maybe that wasn’t entirely true. Maybe there’d been hints along the way; hints he’d ignored for fear of fucking it up, better not to have it at all than to have it and lose it. Maybe he’d convinced himself that what he’d seen was too good to be real. Maybe he’d been too scared to look at it fully, like staring at the sun. Maybe Sorrel was right; maybe he would’ve bolted like a spooked horse.

He doesn’t know what to say. He opens his mouth and snaps it shut again.

“For real?” he asks at last, voice ragged.

Sorrel’s smile is the brightest thing in the universe, and that’s all the answer he needs.

Imbris screws his entire face up, he’s not gonna cry, he’s not gonna cry, and Sorrel laughs and pulls him closer, kissing his nose, his damp cheeks, his wavering lips, wrapping his arms around Imbris’ back so that he can bury his face in Sorrel’s shoulder and start rethinking the shape of his life, the shape of his future, the shape of his heart.

It’s funny, how little effort it takes. Turns out Sorrel slots right into place.