#so incredibly long oh my god

[alun-ura]

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do? and What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it? (Alun)

Big Ol’ Honkin’ OC Question List

Do they get jealous easily? Do they feel bad if they do?

I wouldn't say Alun gets jealous per se, instead what she feels is something more akin to protectiveness and spite to some extent - the way and the intensity of it varying of course depending on the person. In that regard Alun is usually very calm, she doesn't carry a sense of possessiveness over people for multiple reasons; one being that I hardly imagine Alun being a monogamous person, but going deeper into it would be that because of her lifestyle and past experiences, she wouldn't want to be heavily romantically invested to someone so she nips it at the bud before it can even get to the point of bubbling such a feeling.

Specifying a bit HOW she feels, when it comes to being protective of someone she does care about - Alun isn't exactly bothered about them being with someone else. Still, it is a lingering feeling of 'Is this person good enough for you?, Are they able to keep you safe? Will they hurt you?' that can make her somewhat hostile to this other party, or even seem jealous. When it comes to spite, it is usually aimed at partners she doesn't care as much about - people that tend to be more physical with her and, ironically enough, people that try to make her jealous. Most times, people with this kind of dynamic already have a nasty attitude coming from Alun, of overall being a prick and not pleasant - she'd often describe such people as her leftovers, if the other party wants that then she is more than fine with it. It's usually in a degrading way to both people, which can also seem like spiteful jealousy.

Alun neither feels bad nor regrets either situation, she feels entitled to both feelings in the way that A) She is seeking the best for that person when being protective to the point of being horrible to them, and B) She was never in an emotional tie to care about being spiteful to someone, often lacing it with the fact that she would have most likely warned them that things would be like that. Both are not exactly good, both her behaviors and her reasoning for them are rooted in deeper issues within herself that just flower up in such a way.

What are some of your OC’s biggest personal obstacles? This could be emotional, physical, social… Are they aware of it? Are they trying to overcome it?

I think the main thing that comes to mind is her inability to emotionally connect or rely on people, though I realize Alun has many varying obstacles in all categories (go girl!) so for this I'd just go down the list.

Emotional; to explain this better I'll dip toes a bit into some past stuff as Alun has been on an emotional rollercoaster since she left the Steppes - which was the exact opposite of what she used to be like, in quite the opposite, she had experienced little and none during her time living there, to the point of getting into a 'stunted' personality and emotional. There was far too much to address and to live once she left, and hardly any care for it at the time as if one decided to eat a huge hearty meal after being starved for weeks. As expected, it didn't go too well which leaves the current times not too different from what she used to be - there was a myriad of situations and feelings she had never properly experienced truly, and the main and lingering one at the current times is love and grief. What slingshot Alun into the current person she is, how she behaves, and how she emotionally responds to things and people is the loss of a loved one caused by herself, perhaps the only one she deemed true in her life despite never truly allowing room for another after that accident happened. 

It is one of the biggest themes when it comes to Alun as a person in a deeper sense of her character (and something plastered all over her aesthetic tag) but particularly this encompasses the feeling well.

"my death will forever cling to you, leaving behind a slimy trail and a metallic taste in your mouth. my soul will forever drag you down like the heavy corpse of a long-dead god, who somehow still grants wishes. you can't tell which one of us is the one not letting go. you know not even your own death will end this." 

This branches out in other aspects of her obstacles per se but I believe it to be the biggest of them, realistically she should get over it - but the damage made by her and to her due to such feeling is the one thing that I find it incredibly hard to see Alun surpass as it grew into an enormous knot between emotion, physical and social all. She is constantly haunted by it, in her dreams and losing sleep over it, it follows her in a personality adopted by herself and traits that did not belong to her, she sees them in shadows and the corners of her eyes during medication, the crystal necklace being the only thing she has from them - that sometimes seems to talk to her with that same voice. And she has questioned her sanity before due to it all, even when she is doing good or when she is completely awake it is there as a constant ringing of what happened will be shackled to her. So it ends up reflecting an unfulfilled bond, in guilt and fear that she has to surpass to truly, emotionally connect with someone. I don't think she needs to get over ALL of these to make it happen personally, but because of the type of person she is, it is very easy for the other side to fuck up in the way and have Alun retract from any progress made.

Alun is bitterly aware of it, it has come into the topic before and she recognizes it as the issue it is when she began questioning her own sanity due to it, but she isn't trying to overcome it in any way. She has, as a character, gone full circle where she hated the lack of motion her life had brought her, only to willingly walk back into it herself - Alun is 'comfortable' in the stillness of carrying her life as it is until she dies and hopefully can meet them again. 

Physical; I think this can be addressed both in a bodily manner and a physical interaction way so I'll ramble about both. Going deeper into that, due to the scarring that such a loss left on her, the regards for her wellbeing were knocked away as well and this turned into a couple issues with her current days. She has sustained a couple injuries over the years, the worst being over her ribcage as I mentioned somewhere here before - the wound clearly affects her breathing if one has a keen eye for it. She also puts too much attention into defending that side, enough to leave room for other crucial parts of her body open as a target. Because of her behavior regarding her own body, she doesn't go through too much trouble in defending it, though of course she won't take blows if she can avoid it - but the scarrings over her are clear enough. To this point, she doesn't exactly have too many issues besides that which brings the actual bodily obstacle; her dependency on medication. Her body is usually aching, due to exertion, injuries, and the chemical response to the constant cocktail that goes inside her - usually all deafened by it. It has got to the point where she doesn't heal properly due to it, her response to a magickal approach isn't good too in both the body and mind, and on top of it, it has been affecting her inhibition and cognition to some extent. Her necklace takes part in how her body takes all of this in, but her addiction is by far her worst physical obstacle - and yet again, she is aware of it but she doesn't see it as a problem that has any other solution to it because she doesn't see the dependency as the problem, but how her body & health currently are now. 

The other facet of a physical obstacle is how she physically connects to people since the emotional option is usually out of the picture. This is the way that Alun will gladly invest herself into, though yet again it is in a destructive way as I mentioned above regarding her wellbeing. It is the easiest way to connect to her, and also the easiest way to completely shatter any opportunity to get anywhere 'closer' to her - and also what she WILL offer in most scenarios if the chance is given. This doesn't have to be romantically or sexually exclusive, and goes as far as offering herself physically to a foe [ in a fight right? :) ], ultimately, she gets the same satisfaction of being beside someone either as a partner or as an enemy. And this can go in any way, be together in combat or opposing, sharing a respite together, or in bed. With this, she is steadily building wall after wall that, as closely as it gets with the other person, she is putting her actual self further and further away while getting that high of a company she desperately wants, not that person's company but just A company. In a physically social way, I think this is the biggest obstacle and something Alun is actually not aware of - she is lonely and starved for different aspects of comfort, and she seeks all of these with the company of strangers regardless of if they are hostile or not.

Social; I think all of the above builds into her social issues and the knot I mentioned within all of these, that builds into her biggest social struggle that's her fear of getting close, her emotional distance while being physically close, how her medication aids in hindering her personality to an extent - all of these builds into Alun being a tricky individual to get close to because she is constantly shifting from cold and hot. It flickers back and forth, from friendly teasing to cruel remarks, of interest to silence, toothy grins that follow that perpetual monotone voice. Though the reason for it is an amalgam of all of the above, she has adopted many traits of the people that she knew, people that she lost, and built who she currently is as a walking monument for those. In a way, it is one of the reasons why she won't take the approach of just choosing to die - I know I posted this quote of hers here before but this is the best take I have of the creature herself about it. 

 “All that I am now, every memory, everything that I know, every thing that I did, every single fucking step of the way– I would give it all back t'him if it meant getting him back.” 

All that she currently is is pieces put together of those that she affected somehow, that Alun blames herself for - and this shows in her very personality, in an adopted form of speech, or her preference for certain drinks, down to the very fidgeting habits she has. She does this in a conscious way while seeing that both as the person she is and someone she also won't always be - which can make it difficult if someone is after knowing Alun in a deep sense, of who she is, or keeping up with her behavior.

[suburbanbonfire]

honey you got a big storm coming inspired by Jordan Peele's NOPE and particularly this poster design

(prints)

[monstermommie]

"was that good, darling? yea, you enjoyed it? sounded so pretty for me. took my strap so well too, i’m impressed." after cleaning you up and redressing, i go to put on some cologne, forgetting what my scent does to you. i turn my back to you for a split second, placing my fragrance away in my bag. without warning, you’re pressed up behind me groping my hips. "fuck, sweetheart, you know how sensitive they are. was my strap not enough? you can barely walk yet you’re grinding against my ass like a dog in heat." i’ve already cleaned you up, we’re both about to head out, and here you are whimpering into my neck, nails digging into my hips, humping me. "that feels so good, puppy. you’re such a horny little mutt, can never get enough of me, can you? hm?" you try to answer but it only comes out as broken whines. "awwh, that’s okay, my love, i know just what you’re thinking." we’re both fully clothed but I can feel you twitching against my ass. we both had no idea you could get hard like this. you begin to fondle my sensitive tits and i nearly black out. your other hand snakes across my torso ultimately resting against the very large wet spot on my panties. you’re still rutting hard against my ass through all this, hips shuddering, kissing at my neck. the hand in the front of my jeans begins rubbing perfect fucking circles against me, i’ve never finished so quick in my life. you don’t stop there. i’m pressing against your hand, letting you know you can stop. "fuck, puppy, those hands are so good, holy shit. you made me cum so fast, sweetheart." you drool on my back. a big wet spot with a long strand of saliva connected to it. "awwh, that’s so hot. you look so pretty drooling all over me." you lose control, thrusting against me as hard as you can, your hands leaving their imprint on my hips. "i’m so close, my love. don’t fucking stop, you’re doing so well for me, pup." you pause your tender kisses to bite hard at the nape of my neck sending shivers down the top of my spine. i finish, shuddering against you, praising your work. you cum too, convulsing and shaking for the second time against my ass. immediately, i wine my ass back against you, jiggling, pressing. you finish again in your pants upon contact. "fuck, sweet thing, you look so pretty behind me. can’t help but press against you, barely know what to do with all this, hm?" without time to recover, you start humping me again while i bounce back against you. your legs still shaky from the strap you received not even twenty minutes ago, you stumble back into the nearby wall, but the rebound is immediate, you’re in heat, using me to hold you up as you thrust against me once again. kissing my neck, kneading at my waist. you bring your lips to my ear and ask me if you’re a good dog. i’ve soaked through more than just my underwear now, and magically your hand is inside them. "you’re such a good puppy for me, fucking me so well." upon hearing my praise, you drool against my neck, this time a thick line of spit hangs between your lips and my shirt. you apologize, kneading at my waist and grabbing anything you can get your hands on...

[curiositymemes]

STICK SEASON: WE'LL ALL BE HERE FOREVER.

taken from the 2023 album by noah kahan. trigger warnings for mental illness, trauma, medication, references to suicide, and the exquisite agony of life in rural new england. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.

northern attitude.

how you been? 

you settled down?

you feelin’ right? 

you feelin’ proud?

you settle in to routine.

what does it mean? 

i’m not how you hoped.

you’re gettin’ lost.

scared to live, scared to die. 

you’re feelin’ lost.

stick season.

you must’ve had yourself a change of heart.

now i am stuck between my anger and the blame that i can’t face.

it’s half my fault, but i just like to play the victim. 

i’ll dream each night of some version of you that i might not have but i did not lose. 

i thought that if i piled something good on all my bad i could cancel out the darkness i inherited from dad. 

i miss the way you laugh.

you once called me forever now you still can’t call me back.

that’ll have to do.

my other half was you.

i hope this pain’s just passin’ through, but i doubt it. 

all my love.

how have things been?

well, love, now that you mention it.

i’m sayin’ too much, but you know how it gets out here.

now i know your name, but not who you are.

it’s all okay, there ain’t a drop of bad blood.

you got all my love.

if you need me, dear, i’m the same as i was.

what i’d give to have you out of me.

i still recall how the leather in your car feels.

and at the end of it all, i just hope that your scars heal.

i swear i was scared to death.

i smiled stupid the whole way home.

you said, ‘i’ll never let you go.’

she calls me back.

there was heaven in your eyes. 

everything’s alright.

look at me and don’t you lie.

don’t you hold your head up high.

for bullshit, i do not have time.

do you lie awake restless?

why am i so obsessive?

this town’s the same as you left it.

the radio is taunting me.

i don’t get much sleep most nights.

i’m seeing you in every dream.

if only i could fall asleep. 

i’ll love you when the oceans dry. 

i was too afraid of living life in your footsteps.

come over.

it was there when we got here, will be there when we leave.

you won’t have to guess who they’re speakin’ about.

i’m in the process of clearin’ out cobwebs. 

i was takin’ the wrong meds; feels good to be sad.

my house is just barely big enough for my family.

my mouth was designed for my foot to fit in it.

i promise you, darlin’.

you won’t ever go back.

i know that it ain’t much.

i know that it ain’t cool.

you don’t have to tell the other kids at school.

someday i’m gonna be somebody people want.

new perspective.

makin’ me nostalgic.

we were kids; but that don’t make this less hard.

if i could fly i doubt i’d even do it. 

i’d probably get high and crash or somethin’ stupid.

gave me your word.

i can’t pronounce it.

no thing so sure that i can’t learn to doubt it.

everywhere, everything.

would we survive in a horror movie?

we trust everyone we meet.

we’re littered with scars from our preteens.

i wanna love you ‘til we’re food for the worms to eat.

‘til our fingers decompose, keep my hand in yours. 

i know every route in this county.

maybe that ain’t such a bad thing.

i’ll tell you where not to speed.

it’s been a long year.

orange juice.

honey, come over.

it’s yours if you want it.

we’re just glad you could visit. 

feels like i’ve been ready for you to come home for so long.

i didn’t think to ask you where you’d gone. 

why’d you go?

my heart has changed and my soul has changed.

you just asked me to hold you.

it made you a stranger and it filled you with anger.

my life has changed.

the world has changed.

don’t you find it strange that you just went ahead and carried on?

are we all just pullin’ you down?

strawberry wine.

darling, speak to me.

don’t you say a word.

you thought you were cursed?

i’m in love with every song you’ve ever heard.

if i could lose you, i would.

all the time we used to have.

the things i miss but know are never coming back. 

no thing defines a man like love that makes him soft.

growing sideways.

finally found some middle ground.

i said, ‘i’m cured.’

i divvied up my anger into thirty separate parts.

i’m still angry at my parents for what their parents did to them.

it’s a start.

but i ignore things and i move sideways ‘til i forget what i felt in the first place.

i know there are worse ways to stay alive.

everyone’s growing and everyone’s healthy.

if my engine works perfect on empty, i guess i’ll drive. 

i forgot my medication, fell into a manic high.

now i’m sufferin’ in style.

why is pain so damn impatient? ain’t like it’s got a place to be.

if all my time was wasted, i don’t mind. 

i’ll watch it go.

it’s better to die numb than feel it all.

halloween.

the dawn isn’t here, the sun hasn’t rose.

they got money to make and children back home.

i worry for you, you worry for me.

the bridges have long since been burnt. 

i’m leavin’ this town and i’m changin’ my address.

i know that you’ll come if you want.

i’m losin’ myself.

i’m seein’ my life on a screen.

i know that you fear that i’m wicked and weary.

i know that you’re fearin’ the end. 

i only tell the truth when i’m sure that i’m lyin’. 

homesick.

are you bored yet?

the weather ain’t been bad if you’re into masochistic bullshit.

this place is such great motivation for anyone tryna move the fuck away from hibernation. 

time moves so damn slow i swear i feel my organs failing.

i stopped caring ‘bout a month ago, since then it’s been smooth sailing. 

i would leave if only i could find a reason. 

i got dreams, but i cant make myself believe them. 

i’ll spend the rest of my life with what could have been. 

i will die in the house that i grew up in.

i’m homesick. 

still.

i don’t wanna say goodbye.

it only falls into place when you’re fallin’ to pieces.

you miss something that you can’t place but you can’t deny it. 

you can’t stay here.

it’s hard to face and it feels too ugly.

it’s like i’m still here with you. 

can i fix what is broken?

the view between villages (extended). 

for a minute, the world seems so simple.

i am not scared of death.

i’ve got dreams again.

there is meanin’ on earth. 

i feel so far from it.

it’s all washin’ over me. 

i’m angry again. 

the things that i lost here, the people i knew.

they got me surrounded for a mile or two. 

i found a town big enough for anything i want.

i’m not a city girl, by any means.

it still has a lot of meaning to me.

i grew up there. 

your needs, my needs.

you ain’t gotta tell me what it means.

i promise to be there this time. alright? 

you were a work of art.

that’s the hardest part.

i’m naming the stars in the sky after you.

dial drunk.

i promised to forget you.

i ain’t takin’ any fault.

am i half the man i used to be? i doubt it.

forget about it, whatever.

it’s all the same anyways.

i ain’t proud of all the punches that i’ve thrown. 

for the shame of being young, drunk, and alone.

i gave your name as my emergency phone call.

i’d die for you.

from charmin’ to alarmin’ in seconds.

i’ll let the pain metastasize.

i beg you, sir, just let me call.

let’s wait, i swear she’ll call me back.

son, are you a danger to yourself?

fuck that, sir.

son, why do you do this to yourself?

paul revere.

this place had a heartbeat in its day.

nothin’ was the same.

it just ain’t that simple, it never was.

one day i’m gonna cut it clear.

i’m not from around here.

i’ll leave before the road crew’s out. 

i’ll turn up the music and i’ll forget.

i’m not ready to let go yet.

i’ll just pretend i didn’t hear.

it’s typical, i fear.

folks just disappear.

if i could leave, i would’ve already left.

no complaints.

i thought i had something and that’s the same as having something.

i get mad at nothing.

i pull no punches, then feel bad for months.

thought i was raised better, tried to fake better.

now the weight of the world ain’t so bad.

i saw the end, it looks just like the middle.

i filled the hole in my head with prescription medication.

who am i to complain?

now the pain’s different. It still exists, it just escapes different.

yes, i’m young and living dreams.

i’m in love with being noticed and afraid of being seen.

call your mom.

oh, you’re spiralin’ again.

don’t you cancel any plans.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you let it out and let it in.

don’t let this darkness fool you.

i’ll drive all night.

i’ll call your mom.

oh, dear, don’t be discouraged.

i’ve been exactly where you are.

if you could see yourself like this.

you’dve never tried it.

stayed on the line with you the entire night ‘til you told me that you had to go.

throw a punch, fall in love, give yourself a reason.

don’t wanna drive another mile wonderin’ if you’re breathin’.

won’t you stay with me?

you’re gonna go far. 

this is good land, or at least it was.

it takes a strong hand and a sound mind.

it makes me smile to know when things get hard, you’ll be far from here.

pack up your car.

put a hand to your heart.

say whatever you feel.

be wherever you are.

we ain’t angry at you, love. 

you’re the greatest thing we’ve lost.

the birds will still sing.

we’ll be waiting for you, love.

we’ll all be here forever.

we spent so long just getting by.

that’s the thing about survival; who the hell likes livin’ just to die?

you told me you would make a difference.

it won’t be by your own volition if you step foot outside this town.

it’s all we’ve had for always.

you’re gonna go far.

if you wanna go far, then you gotta go far.

forever.

let’s drive for no reason.

you look fine in the evening.

honey, it’s starting to storm.

used to wish i meant anything to anywhere, to anyone.

i’m glad i get forever to see where you end.

i won’t be alone for the rest of my life.

i’ll meet a girl in the heat of july.

i’ll tell her so she knows.

i’m broke, but i’m real rich in my head.

when i hold her close, i might loosen my grip, but i won’t ever let her go.

[miodiodavinci]

anyway as for the long and short of how i'm doing currently (mostly the long)

so two weeks ago i sprained my wrist at work lifting boxes, and it's been a slow recovery even with the help of a brace, stretches, rice buddies, and ice packs. i've had to basically put a lot of my hobbies on hold because i've been saving what little i can do with my wrist for all the job prep i need to do on the weekends (i.e. making flyers, updating spreadsheets, creating presentations, moving more boxes, etc...)

hobbies are even further on hold at this point because this last week i injured my shoulder as well, and i can feel that my ankle is getting ready to go with it. i'm doing what i can to minimize the damage (i.e. got a work cart, have had coworkers come with me to storage, actually sitting down and resting when i'm on break, etc...) but there's not a lot that can be done considering these are Core Aspects of my job and my contract goes until spring (and also like. whole complex situation where i can't leave without screwing over myself and a lot of people i care about)

it's a shit situation all around, but at the very least i'm getting paid a reasonable amount and it's covering my expenses jfgjksdhkfg

(though for all the work i do, god oh god i wish it was doing more than just covering my expenses)

having to take a break from my hobbies has put me in a weird headspace, though. or like it's less of a weird headspace and more that there's finally this pause that has me reevaluating what i want to do in my spare time

i've been consumed by work for the past like four years of my life, this last year was kind of the culmination of that. between completing my internship, finishing my degree, surviving The Horror (read: had a really, truly horrifying cancer scare last year), doing the yamaha collab, and taking care of the flurry of job-hunting stuff that needed to be done post-graduation, i don't know if i actually got a chance to so much as breathe until august

. . . . except in august i immediately collapsed and rotted the entire month away skjdfhgkhsdf

i'm burnt out, i think. like. genuinely, really severely burnt out. the more i think about it, the more i feel like i just need a year of doing nothing.

just. absolutely nothing.

which i've told myself in the past. several times. always in a big showy way. so much so that i feel silly saying it now because i've been saying it for years in the descriptions of my videos and in posts on my blog.

"i'm tired of being beholden to past me!! this year, i'm letting go of my expectations for myself and just doing what i want!!" (<< this user has said this at least 7 separate times and has failed to make good on it every single time)

but i think why i've never been able to follow through is because in spite of all the dropping projects that no longer interested me and not feeling obligated to see everything through, i still held on to the expectation that at the end of it, i'd still post something. but like.

i think posting doesn't really matter to me as much anymore??? if at all???

which isn't to say "i'm putting my foot down and never creating any new vocaloid work ever again," but it's also like. i can't let myself sit with the expectation of "yeah i'll just make things for fun!! and when they're done, i'll post them!!' because that changes the focus from making something for me into making something for others to see, which is. a different beast to care for skdjfgklhsdlfg

i keep seeing a lot of things where i have the opportunity to keep building on what rice and i were able to make as part of the yamaha collab: alternate box arts, matching galaco design, cool new english covers featuring bespoke cover art of the new designs but when i think of starting those, i feel utterly drained, and when i think of how i'll feel once they're finished, i imagine it'll be akin to "alright, i've checked that off the list. what's the next thing i should do not disappear and be a failure?"

. . . . . which is really, really separate from doing things as a hobby because they make me happy OTL

this past year i've really reconnected with my close friends (in part because i stopped having time to scroll online and didn't want anyone to know when i was online because i legitimately did not have the energy to respond) and i've noticed i really truly enjoy just batting around our ocs with each other so more than i've enjoyed any of the vocaloid work that i've put out in the past five years skjfghldkfg

i've been doing vocaloid things for over ten years now, and the collaboration with yamaha was quite literally something i couldn't have even dreamed of, much less imagined it would have just fallen into my lap the way it did. coming off the end of it and my internship though, there's this feeling that's been building for years now where it feels like the effort i put in is just not proportional to the satisfaction i get out of it. it feels more like something i'm supposed to do otherwise i'd just be squandering all the work i've put in and all the attention i've gotten.

. . . . . . i just want to live man 😂 i'm caught in a mental tangle that feels difficult to unravel. spring mio was at the end of his fucking rope, but fall mio is finally has the time to sit down with the slack and is wondering if it's worth it to keep pulling for all i'm worth when i can always just go over to my friend's house and have a funny little sleep over (metaphorical or literal both apply)

i'm not decided by any means but i'm definitely thinking about it.

it's the fact that it's been 2 years since i've released salvador, and i went into it thinking i'd be cool and professional about it, with lots of covers and frequent updates because i used to make lots of UTAU covers in high school, but then i got paralyzed by all the "shoulds" wrapped up in the process and i just. stopped working.

when i say i want to make X cover of Y song, am i really saying that i want to go out of my way to do all these things?? or am i just imagining what momentary satisfaction i'll feel to see another thumbnail on my channel??

...

(face in hands) this ended up being. a lot fucking longer than i meant for it to be jksdfhlkghsdkfg

hopefully most people have clicked away by this point w

it's the tear between the things i genuinely want (making things with friends that stay between us friends) the things i kind of want out of necessity (opening up commissions so i can supplement my income), the things i said i'd do and can't back out now on, and the things i told myself i would do but can't really must up plenty of positive emotions about (but can feel plenty of frightful, guilty emotions when i think of not doing them)

i'll figure it out eventually. even in the worst case scenario, i plan to keep my accounts up as archives, so it's not like my work will go anywhere w i'd still want it to be there once i decide i'm ready to come back to it w

[my-destiny-my-chicken]

out of curiosity: reblog this and tag with how many years you’ve been in the merlin fandom

[mwagneto]

people seeing gifs of the 15th doctor having gay little moments and going "ohh what's this show? i gotta watch it" is literally ending me not just coz of the concept that anyone can be unaware of doctor who but also bc like. while i do think it's a show ppl should watch in its entirety. DON'T DO IT FOR GAY REP LMAO. like it literally does have a lot of lgbt rep even all the way back in season 1 of 2005 fame but watching 13 seasons of doctor who coz something gay happens in the new eps is like. idk finding out there's a new pride and prejudice adaptation with a gay character in it and going ohhhh that sounds fun:) guess i'll go watch every adaptation ever made

[missmungoe]

If you have a moment, you should go check out TricksterMelon on Twitter :) I hope you like it <3

I am speechless

[solar-eclipsed]

Sorry like. I love all the female characters in Inanimate Insanity. So much. I’m obsessed with all of them.

[retributory]

when you think about it clive and flora are actually perfect narrative foils on complete accident. like what's up with that. professor layton and the completely imagined literary devices

[campirefangs]

I have had a crush on the brides brother since we were 10 and 12 and I flirted with him and left the wedding with his phone number, we refollowed each other on our new instagrams, and he made a point to stop and reintroduce himself because he hadn’t met me since I changed my name and pronouns. best of all? he told me he “fell in love with me” the first day I met him when I jokingly made fun of him and then he tried to cover his ass by joking about the friend of mine he had a crush on for a while bc she led him on and he gave me three hugs goodbye and he liked the pictures I posted from the wedding and liked my Instagram story

[taylorsabrina]

GOT THE BEST UNEXPECTED SURPRISE IN THE MAIL TODAY. 😍😍😍😍😍😍

[eeveekitti]

pspspsp. can you pitch the basic plot of entropy: zero to me in the way you would if you were trying to convince someone to play it

anon do you know what youve done /silly

[here's just the game descriptions for those who don't want to see 200+ words about a half life mod]

do YOU like half-life 2?? and optionally the HL1 expansion opposing force?? have YOU ever wondered what it's like to play as the combine?? well that's the entire pitch of this free-to-play HL2 [EP2 apparently, didn't know that] mod!

in entropy : zero, you play a combine metrocop, stranded in the unheard of city 10 almost a year before the events of HL2. your job? surviving the harsh cold, and taking down an entire rebel base!

fighting your way through the rebel outposts and working your way into becoming more and more of a threat is the fun of the first installment in the entropy series.

entropy : zero 2 is a much more character-driven game, and what attracts most people to the series, following a much more talkative and very interesting iteration of our protagonist.

this time, you pick up the story after the events of HL2, hunting down well-known resistance member judith mossman in the north. there's actually so little i can say on entropy 2, so much of it is character-focused, but i promise you it's super super good!!!

and a personal funfact: ez2 is my favorite game ever as of current [even above rain world!! and i'm a rain world blog!!] and has my favorite character ever in it!

so i highly encourage everyone who owns hl2 play these mods please please please [<- desperate for a tumblr fandom to exist] and if it sweetens the deal for you-- i'm like 90% sure they're making a third installment!!

[kuromi-hoemie]

every time i hang out I'm like wow thank you i had so much fun, but i say it every time, but i also mean it every time. i love you

[mrsmarlasinger]

Must we have construction starting at 7 AM on a Saturday

[vaya-writes]

The Wyvern's Bride - Part 3.3

When Adalyn gets sacrificed to the local wyvern, she’s a little annoyed and a lot terrified. Upon meeting the wyvern, she discovers that he’s not particularly interested in eating people, and mostly wants to be left alone. In a plot to save himself from the responsibilities his family keep pushing on him, Slate names Adalyn as his human Envoy, and tasks her with finding him a wife.

4800 words. Cis female human x Cis male wyvern (slow burn, arranged marriage, eventual smut). firefly-graphics did the divider.

Masterlist - Previous

Get excited. A large portion of this is Slate's POV. And by the Gods please don't let me edit this a third time. I'm done. If I left any filler words or random parts bolded for later fixing, no I didn't.

Slate is gone when Adalyn wakes. She’s sensing a pattern and wonders how he manages to wake and leave before she does, despite her baker instincts to be up before sunrise. 

Not in any rush, Adalyn fortifies herself with a cup of tea out on the balcony, snacking on some old biscuits. She cooks jam on toast over the fire, frowning at the mess cluttering the hearth. She takes a moment to straighten the equipment and jars – she's keen to get cooking, but with Slate’s explicit permission to organise his belongings, part of her is tempted to spend the morning rearranging.  

Still, they’d purchased a week’s worth of groceries yesterday, and she plans to experiment. After she’s fed and dressed, she heads down to the kitchen, lighting the room once she arrives. They’d visited Northpoint, the main trade hub of the valley, and Adalyn had managed to procure some sugar. Slate had smiled at her excitement at seeing the ware, and purchased the merchant’s whole stock.  

She spends half the morning baking, experimenting with recipes that exist only as scraps in her family journal, or as fragments in her memory. The shortcrust biscuits are a little sweet and the pastries don’t keep the shape she wants, but the sweet rolls turn out beautifully, and she makes note of the recipe she’d used. 

When the dining area begins to lighten, Adalyn starts to prepare lunch. She packs a basket, and is off towards the main-way, excited to showcase her food for the day. 

Slate is working on the same passage as last time, and she waits expectantly by the stream bank as he washes off and joins her on the blanket she’d laid out.  

“Potato and leek pottage. Bread of the day. Wine,” she gestures to each in turn. 

He smiles. “You’re an absolute blessing, Adalyn.” 

She blushes and stares at her food. “There’s like three breads of the day, but this one turned out best.” 

Slate lets out an appreciative groan when tears into the loaf and raises it to his nose. “I believe you.” 

They eat in silence for a few minutes, before Adalyn tries to start a conversation.   

“What are you working on today?” 

 Slate grins at the inquiry. “I’ve pretty much dug to the right spot. Now it’s time to start hollowing out a living space.” 

“What do you do with all the stone?” 

He shrugs. “I set it aside. Most of it is good for sculpting. I can use it for furnishing, or steps, or block facades. Though some of it is as good as slag by the time I’m through.” 

Adalyn nods contemplatively. Realises that they’re sitting in a makeshift limestone quarry. She’s musing about the other uses of the stone, wondering if there’s any further use, or if Slate would sell the material when he interrupts. 

“Have you given any thought to what you’ll call your wing?” 

She starts from her thoughts. Raises a brow. “Can’t I just call it my wing? My chambers. My tower?” 

“You can. But where’s the fun? It’ll be big enough to be its own fort, at least.” 

A pang of unease goes through Adalyn. If she were self-reliant in her quarters, wouldn’t that mean less reason to visit Slate and the Tower? 

She shrugs, pushing the feeling down. “From the valley they look like they’re in a row. Sometimes we number them. The Tower is fifth...” 

Slate hits his knee with a fist, excited. “I like the way you think. That’d make your mountain the fourth?” 

“Yes.” 

“We could call it Fourth Spire? Fothspire? Fourth Peak?” 

Adalyn busies herself with her food. Watching the enthusiasm in Slate’s demeanour stings, just a little. “Fourth Spire is fitting.” 

There’s a silence while they eat. Slate shoots Adalyn some careful stares, sensing something amiss. “What are your plans for the day?” 

Adalyn glances to the sky. The sun is high overhead, stretching into the afternoon. “Dunno. Maybe I’ll clean your desk.” She means it as a joke, but considers with some seriousness. 

Slate purses his lips. “If it makes you happy, dearest.” 

She takes pity on him and huffs a laugh. Some of her tension seeps away. “Did you have a system you’d like me to adhere to?” 

He pouts down at his food. “Not presently.” 

“And the books you’ve left out. They’re quite numerous...” 

He fidgets. “I might be referencing some of them.” 

“Even the ones left on the floor?” 

“Well, maybe not those.” 

Adalyn teases him with a smile. “I also meant to inquire about your book-marking system.” 

He meets her eyes, despairing. “... What book-marking system?” 

“The one where you leave books open or close them on a variety of... strange things. Feathers. Receipts. Fabrics. Unidentified plant matter.” 

He shifts. “Well, you know dog earring is terrible for parchment.” 

  “So is staining the pages with potion ingredients, dearest.” She pushes back with the new endearment. 

He covers his silence by scraping the bottom of his bowl. 

Adalyn relents. “If they’re not an elaborate bookmarking system I’ll just remove them then? At least from the books not currently in use?” 

He relaxes a bit. “I should be grateful for your care, Adalyn. I admit the treatment of my hoard is not always delicate.” 

She permits another soft smile. “Would that I knew how to care for your belongings. I’ve never cleaned armour or weapons, and I fear to touch half of your possessions for worry of mistreating them.” 

He stretches. Gives her a sheepish look. “I’ll show you then. If you’ll remain patient. I’m not fond of cleaning but you’ve my permission to wrest the best methods out of me.” 

She raises her brows. Considers the chance to spend more time with her husband, under the guise of learning and cleaning. 

Weary at her interest, Slate stands and dances back. “Later, though. You’ll not have me that easily.” 

She scowls at him. “Tease.” 

--- 

By sunset Adalyn has cleared the walkways significantly. She doesn’t know how so many tomes found their way onto the floor when they’d tidied less than a week prior. Slate exudes a special kind of chaos. Despite his list and his priorities, it seems the wyvern can’t help but start other projects on a whim, falling victim to tangents and rabbit holes much too easily. 

She doesn’t even know what half his side projects pertain to. Just that their shopping trip in the valley had resulted in them visiting all three major settlements and stopping to speak with every experienced tradesperson they crossed. 

He’d been so enthused by the time they got home – evening, despite their morning start – that he’d raced off to work on something that night and had completely missed dinner. 

He’d eaten at least – the food was gone when she woke this morning. Along with her husband. And with Slate dismissing her at lunch – albeit playfully – and now running late for dinner again, Adalyn feels the itch of rejection chafing at her once more. 

She knows it was foolish to assume that it’d be a perfect transition. That things between them would stay simple and easy. They've been married... five days now. Complications are to be expected.  

But she still wonders if Slate even notices her disconnect. If he feels as estranged as she does. She doesn’t know if he’s rushing the construction of her quarters because he wants her gone, or if he’s being dutiful and kind, or if he’s just hyper-fixating on his next big project. She doesn’t know, because he hasn’t given her any indication. Hasn’t spoken to her about anything serious. Has barely spent any alone time with her. 

She finishes her dinner and covers Slates before standing to pace, restless. She scours the room for something else to do before flopping into the desk chair and scowling at Slate’s desk. Blueprints and plans are scattered around.  

Part of her feels small and dumb. Because each night after dinner, if he remembers to attend, Slate spends hours poring over these papers, drafting out his plans and thumbing through his reference books. Small and dumb because of the jealousy she feels towards some parchment. She wants to resent the paperwork. Envies the attention Slate gives it.  

But she relaxes incrementally and lets out a sigh. She doesn’t hate his work. Listening to him talk about engineering and different types of construction, watching him get so animated; she feels guilty for being so angry over something that obviously brings him so much joy.  

And it’s not as if Slate had promised her romance.  

He’d married out of self-interest. To discourage his family. An act of pettiness, or rebellion, she’d thought when he’d first revealed the plan.  

It only hurts because she likes him. 

Her fingers brush the scale that she keeps in her pocket. She grits her teeth at the acknowledgement. Then pushes the thought away. Her feelings for the wyvern aren’t something she wants to contemplate yet, even as she skirts around the truth of them. 

Adalyn lets out a sigh and chides herself. There’s no point dwelling on it. Especially if she refuses to act. And tonight, she doesn’t feel like doing either. 

--- 

The following morning, Slate stirs from his spot on the chaise as the room, barely perceptibly, begins to lighten. He groans, stretches, and nearly falls onto the floor. His cheeks darken, despite the lack of audience to his mishap.  

Slipping back into autonomy, Slate makes his way to the partitioned wash area and fills the basin with fresh water. He splashes his face and dresses for the day. The sun’s not up yet, but rays of red light – probably imperceptible to the human eye – are filtering into the room. Enough to let Slate know it’s time for him to start the day. 

He makes himself coffee. Adalyn had tried the bitter drink once and nearly spat it out, to his great amusement. He supposes that it’s an acquired taste, and as remote as they are, it’s not like any of the locals would have the chance to get used to it. 

He scarfs down a handful of Adalyn’s biscuits, puts another log on the fire, and lingers by the bed. He adjusts the blankets on his wife before leaving in a rush, not allowing himself to stare for too long. 

It’s a bad habit. 

He shouldn’t have started it. Shouldn’t keep indulging it. If she knew how he fussed, how often he touches her without permission... He hates to think of what she’d do if she found out he’d been pushing the boundaries like that. Especially with how touch sensitive humans supposedly are. 

Slate flies to the main entrance before shifting into his demi form and going on foot to Fourth Spire. The ground floor is gradually opening up, and he’s paying close attention to the central column. 

It’s thick, acting as both a support within the tower, and a centralised route up and down the floors once he hollows it out into a large spiral staircase. He hopes Adalyn likes it. Still, part of his mind ticks away at the design, wondering if there’s anything he can add, anything he can do to make carrying things up and down the Spire any easier for his human wife.  

Ready to begin, he lets shadows gather at his fingertips. Feels the weight of keratin form into large claws. In his demi form his muscles are already prepared for the weight the transformation brings. More scales appear across his forearms, the dense patches protecting him from any loose debris that might go airborne. 

Then he begins carving. 

Taking breaks only to sip at a skin of water, he loses himself in the sounds of the earth and the rhythm of his work, pausing occasionally to check that the angles and measurements aren’t out of order. It has to be perfect. Sure, it’s only the first shaping of the stairs. He’d go over it with his chisels once the basic shape had been found. But he moves carefully, not willing to make any mistakes with Adalyn’s quarters.  

She’d been... withdrawn last night. Pale and wan once she’d fallen asleep. There’d been a strange undercurrent in the air when he’d landed on the balcony and found her reading in the back corner.  

Seeing his covered dinner plate had shamed him. Once more he’d been late for dinner. Once more he’d promised himself he’d do better. He’d check the sky. He’d stop work early. But deep beneath the surface it’s hard to keep track of the time. Even if his eyes can cut through the dark with perfect clarity, he has no way of knowing what time it is. Especially as he gets lost in his work. (Especially as he can’t find anyone to fix that blasted timepiece). 

There’s the crunch of footsteps and he pauses in his work. Turns to regard Adalyn, waiting by the entrance with a torch. 

Controlling his delight, Slate wipes his hands on his pants and banishes his claws, trying to appear somewhat collected. Somewhat normal. Human. Palatable, he thinks. 

He gives her a polite smile. “What brings you today?” 

Her brief lunch visits are perhaps the only time she seems open. Relaxed. He looks forward to their little appointments, even if half the time he doesn’t know what to say or how to act.  

She crinkles her nose as she looks around the space. For a moment his heart skips a beat. Is something wrong with it? 

“I don’t know how you breathe through all this dust. If a human worked in these conditions they’d probably get black lung.” 

Relief floods him at the comment. Then embarrassment. Ancestors, he cares too much about her opinion.  

“Black lung is caused by scarring to the lung tissue. Most dracanoids are resistant to minor scarring and damages.” 

“Resistant,” Adalyn corrects, “but not immune.” 

Her concern is sweet enough, endearing enough, that his smile softens. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Her ears turn pink, and she turns away. “Did you want some lunch?” 

He follows her out into the mainway, sheds his footwear, and steps into the stream. The water is icy and he grits his teeth before dunking himself and rubbing the grey dust away.  

Curiously, Adalyn doesn’t watch, instead unpacking their blanket and lunch with careful movements, barely sparing him a glance. It’s his second clue that something is up, as most afternoons she can’t keep her eyes off of him, much to his pleasure.  

Dripping, but clean, Slate joins her at the makeshift picnic, sitting cross legged across from her. He eats the food with gusto, hoping the sounds and motions can convey what he struggles to do so with words. When Adalyn produces a flask of coffee, still hot, he almost swoons. 

“A female after my own heart,” he mutters, sipping at the brew. He misses the way she stills at his words. “So what are your plans for the day?” 

She shrugs before drinking from her own flask of tea. “I was just going to explore. Maybe experiment in the kitchen later. Do something different for dinner.” 

Something in his chest warms. “I’ll look forward to trying it.” 

She huffs. “Don’t be so enthused. I could end up poisoning us if I go too wild.” 

“I’m not worried.” 

Adalyn is silent for a moment, a strange expression flitting across her face. When she speaks next, her words still roll with the same cadence and volume, but Slate can’t help but feel that there’s something missing in her tone; some of the warmth behind her eyes has waned. 

“Is there anything I can eat that you can’t?” 

Grateful for the change in topic, Slate takes a moment to consider. “Not really. I think some red dragons can’t eat ice. But otherwise, we’re pretty good at digesting things, even if they’re not particularly nutritious.” 

“What do you like to eat?” 

Slate bites back a smile. He enjoys Adalyn’s curiosity. Her willingness to learn, and to hear him talk about the things she likes. She never makes it seem like he’s being boring. Even if there’s the occasional moment when he wonders if her mind is elsewhere, or she’s veiling some display of emotion. 

“I like all kinds of foods. One of the benefits of living so long and so richly is that I can travel around and try different things. I adore coffee. Though that might be because it’s mildly addictive. I like fish when it’s simple and game when it’s extravagant. I’m not very experienced at cooking many of these things, but I like different spice blends from Shad and the different grains they cook with. I like fruit and berry pastries. Cocoa from the Isles. I prefer my eggs cooked through, and I like the texture of toast when it’s a bit too crispy. But mostly I like variety. Being surprised by my food, or changing things up occasionally.” 

He reigns it in when Adalyn stares. There’s an indecipherable look on her face once more, and he pauses, suddenly self-conscious.  

“I’m not boring you, am I?” 

Her look softens. “I asked.”  

Slate drops his eyes. Suddenly overcome with the urge to reach out and touch her, to cup her face, to lean in and taste her breath; he schools his features into neutrality before pulling out another practiced smile. She’s just being friendly. Polite. 

“Lunch was wonderful. Thank you, Adalyn.”  

She smiles back, soft, but with that shadow of emotion from earlier, the one he can’t quite place.  

It’s enough that he finally frowns. Reaches out and touches her hand. “Is something wrong?” 

She hesitates, and he waits, giving her the time she needs to find her words. She seems to be thinking hard, conflicted. Eventually she lifts her eyes to his. Bites on her lip.  

“It’s silly.” 

“I won’t laugh.” 

She looks away again. “Will you... show me how to take apart and clean your armour tomorrow?” 

He tries not to frown. He has to wonder if she’d changed her mind about what she was going to say. Why look so torn over such a simple request? 

“Of course. Is that all?” 

She struggles to meet his gaze again. Shrugs. “Yes. I just... I like spending time with you.” 

Something in his chest warms. His face too.  

“I like spending time with you too, dearest.” 

She rolls her eyes at the endearment, but the tension is barely diffused. She still looks uncomfortable. 

He’s not sure what to say to make it better. Instead waits, hoping that she’ll break the silence. 

After a while, she does. “I’m just- worried.” 

He tilts his head.  

She shrugs again, trying to downplay the moment. “When you finish the Spire and I move out, what if I don’t get to spend any more time with you?” 

He blinks. The thought hadn’t even occurred to him. At least, not as something to worry about. He’d been toiling away in the keep, eager to gift Adalyn with her own space and not considering how she might feel about it. Does she want her own quarters? Will she like living by herself? He hadn’t even thought to ask. 

Looking at her now, vulnerable, hardly able to meet his eye, the previous warmth in his chest dissipates, and fractures. He’d messed up.  

He flounders for the right words to fix his mistake. To reassure Adalyn, and make that doleful expression go away. 

“I- uh. Of course you’ll spend time with me. You have a knack for tracking me down. And I really enjoy our lunches together.” 

Her expression barely changes. She just nods, and looks away, before making to stand. 

Slate winces and grabs her hand. Stands with her. Blurts the first thought to pop into his head. “I could build a bridge? One from the tower to your Spire? That way you can visit me whenever, and won’t even have to walk the whole keep.” 

Her face is blank for a moment. Then he watches as she goes through the effort tilting up the edges of her lips. Summons a spark to her eyes. “Sounds difficult.”  

He agrees. “A secret tunnel would probably be easier.”  

The smile twitches. “Probably more romantic too.” 

He blinks again. Latches onto that train of thought with clawed hands. “Do you like romance?” 

She looks away. “I don’t know. I haven’t really tried it.” 

There’s a precipice in front of him. A vulnerability he’d yet to show Adalyn. Yet to show anyone really. And while he hesitates to step over it, looking at the cracks in his wife’s composure, and their linked hands, his decision to speak is easily made. 

“Neither have I.” 

She turns to regard him, face still mostly blank. “You... haven’t?” 

“Nope.” 

He watches her weigh her words. Shift her weight. Consider the implications.  

“I see.” 

Adalyn no longer looks quite so melancholy, and it’s a balm on his nerves. But now that the desperate grab for reassurances and comforts is done, he shifts uncomfortably. The silence grates on him, and he wonders what next he should say. 

Adalyn saves him the trouble when she floors him with her next question. 

“Would you like to? 

Slate blinks. Looks sharply at the woman only to find her staring at her feet again, arms wrapped around herself. 

“Uh,” his heart is beating too hard, “I hadn’t considered it.” There’s another tense silence. “Would you?” 

Despite asking the first question, Adalyn still has the gall to look surprised. She meets his stare, eyes wide for a moment, before looking away. She packs the picnic blanket. Puts their dishes away, slowly, while she deliberates on her answer.  

Finally when she stands, she holds her basket in hand, almost as if she’s ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She makes herself meet Slate’s eyes. Composes her expression into one of neutrality again. 

“Yes. I think I would.” 

His mind blanks.  

He doesn’t have it in him to consider the implication of her words while she still stands before him. To consider the surge of... something... in his chest. To get a grip on his emotions and form a coherent response.  

But she stands there, waiting for him to reply.  

In his panic, he settles on an abrupt change in topic. “Tomorrow then, I’ll show you the armour.” He smiles. Starts backing away, before giving a little wave and turning. His steps back towards the Spire aren’t measured. He practically flees the scene, head reeling.  

When he’s out of sight he pauses to lean against the wall and lets himself just marinate in the mix of adrenaline and surprise.  

He can hear her still, lingering in the main-way. After a moment he listens to her footsteps fade into the distance, and he lets himself breathe again. 

Adalyn wants romance.  

Even thinking the words surprises him. Makes him haunted and hopeful. She might be open to advances. She might want somebody else. She might have been speaking on an entirely hypothetical level. And because he ran like a coward he’ll never know, unless he can muster up the nerve to pry further. 

Slate abandons the central column and starts working on one of the outer walls. They still need to be taken out, and there’s not many mistakes he can make while doing that. He resummons his claws, still in a daze, and resumes his work, though not grounded in the slightest. 

With enough monotony of motion he’s able to push the emotions down and focus on his work. Thought’s still swirl but he’s able to get lost in it, until he is sore and stiff and thirsty. He goes to take a drink and finds his skin empty. He lets out a long breath as the echoes of his labour fade away. It has probably been a while, and he resolves to take a break. To head to the main-way and refill his skin.  

When he makes it to the cavern, he catches sight of the sky and curses. The moon is high, and he bemoans how late it must be. Time just keeps getting away from him.  

He shifts and takes flight, making a direct beeline to the Tower. He lands on the balcony, trading his wings for his human form. 

He’d missed dinner again. Not only that, but Adalyn is already in bed, and her breath indicates that she’s sleeping deeply.  

Damn it.  

Grinding his teeth at his latest mistake, he fills the bathtub and sheds his clothes. When he’s no longer the colour of chalk or tasting grit in his mouth he dries and dresses, and empties the tub. 

Spying dinner on the table, he’s hit with a slew of emotions. Gratitude and adoration. Guilt and sadness. He needs to fix his timepiece. Or pull his head out of his ass and start making time for his wife. If he doesn’t, the next few decades are going to be incredibly stilted, and it would probably be his fault. 

Walking past his desk, he pauses when he sees Adalyn’s binder sitting open, a handful of papers poking out. He’s sure she didn’t have nearly as many when she first moved in and unpacked. Curious, he examines one. It almost looks like a blueprint. It’s a birds-eye-view of a room. Or perhaps not a room, judging by the lack of walls or doors. Those are... garden beds. Pots. Plant names. Has Adalyn been planning a garden? 

Unable to dampen his curiosity, he slides the other sheets into view. There’re recipes, to do lists, shopping lists, more blueprints. He skims the to do list, written in Adalyn’s tidy print: garden supplies, write Rin, meet with G&G, see jeweller. On the other side is another list, self explanatory: 20x small pots, 10x large pots, 5x crates soil, old garden cuttings, 1x load fertiliser, spade, watering can, water barrel... The list trails off, instead devolving into loose sketches of a rudimentary irrigation system. Slate is impressed.  

He puzzles over the next page. Adalyn had drafted a blueprint – two blueprints, of similar design. It’s not up to industry standard, but it’s legible. Slate doesn’t know what to make of the design. Apparently half of the building is to be hewn from the mountain, and a protruding half to be built from wood? He decides to ask about it later. 

He sits down for dinner, considering her plans and altering his own. Glass. Wardrobe. Rail. Timepiece. Pots. Soil. Fertilizer. His list is growing. The trip he’s been putting off is starting to look more and more needed, and Slate sighs, wondering if he should just get it over with. It could certainly be a pleasant surprise for Adalyn. 

When he finishes cleaning up for the night he hesitates at the foot of the bed. He should just go and lay down on the chaise. Sleep off the fatigue that is starting to cloud his mind.  

Instead, he finds himself laying down beside Adalyn and watching her for a moment. He almost immediately wishes he hadn’t as he sinks into the mattress and muffles a sigh. It’d be the only perk, giving Adalyn her own quarters. He’d missed sleeping in the bed.  

It seems kind of dumb to him. That humans reserve sex for the bedroom. It makes him self-conscious whenever he enters the space. Is he bothering Adalyn by being here? Is he pushing her boundaries too much? It’s not like she’d say much if he did. Fuck, she’d even offered to share the bed with him, that first night. He’d declined, if only to make sure she wasn’t rushing into things. And she hadn’t asked him back since.  

Adalyn rolls. Her back slots against Slate’s chest. Her head rests on his arm. Slate freezes. Scarcely breathing, he waits for her to wake. To jerk away. To do something. Anything.  

She doesn’t wake. As the minutes tick by, Slate relaxes fractionally. Lulled by her warmth and lured by her gentle breathing into lowering his guard, Slate lets his eyes close. Inhales deeply. 

Just a few more minutes. Then he’d leave. He’d go and sleep on the chaise. Would stop smelling her hair like a depraved pervert. Would pull away from her touch. 

Just a few more minutes. 

--- 

“Dearest Adalyn 

I need to pick up some supplies from Cheywyn. Unfortunately, I won’t return until tomorrow morning, if things go according to schedule. I’m saddened that I’ll be missing our midday meal, but look forward to returning to you. 

Fondest regards 

Slate” 

She’d woken from a pleasant dream this morning. Warmth against her back, and a hand entwined in her hair. Slate’s absence was not unusual. She’d stoked the fire, started breakfast, and had sat at the table, relaxed and looking forward to the day. Then she’d seen the note. 

Adalyn sips her tea on the balcony, eyes trained on the horizon. The letter is clenched in her fist.

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