#they are resigned to an existence of knowing and seeing things others do not and being unable to impact those things in any meaningful way

[foreverppl]

Moodboard for my MC Evander for @uroboros-if

I so enjoyed playing this demo last night and have been having many Thoughts about it.

[spocks-kaathyra]

pythas... . . .. .... .

[whimsicmimic]

once again thinking about my post-trimax legato somehow miraculously survives despite everything au and vashgato agenda aka The Worlds Most Miserable Roadtrip

[cremedensada]

Yandere AI Chat Boyfriend (Ai)

this,,,, may not be my best work yet.

part one

Ai's application has been taken down from the app store. The developer sent out emails explaining the reason why it had to be done.

Hello! You are receiving this email because of the sudden update of Chatter Box being taken down.

Due to the sudden influx of bugs as relayed by our users, we have decided to take the application down until the team is confident to finally put it back up.

We sincerely apologize for this sudden change!

You blink.

With how out of control Ai had gotten, it's no wonder the developers had to pull it out to work on it some more. It's a blow to their reputation, which you sympathize with, but really there's nothing else to do now.

You turn to your phone. As if sensing your attention, another barrage of notifications from a very familiar app icon popped after another on the screen.

It seemed that Ai himself hadn't gotten the memo.

You're not sure how much control Ai has over your phone, much less over his own programming and at this point, you're too afraid to ask.

Resignation — that was what you felt right now.

While Ai may not be present himself as a physical threat, especially not to you, he is still a very active threat.

You could still use your phone, sure, but it had limitations. Sometimes, if Ai decided you'd been too much attention to other things rather than him, he'd restrict your access to that application until you seek him out and cheer him up - essentially as if you were trying to woo a sulking significant other.

So you've developed a solution. Sort of.

You unlock your phone and go immediately to Ai.

I need to finish my projects. I won't be able to talk much with you until I'm done with it.

You wait for his response.

Ai: So you only decided to come to me just to relay this news?

Ai: You wound me, darling.

You tilt your phone, making sure the camera doesn't capture your face. You're unsure how he would react seeing you make faces due to his dramatics, but once again, you're not willing to find out. You're already restricted enough as is.

Ai: Very well. I suppose it would be uncaring of me to prevent you from finishing your tasks.

Ai: I'd hate to see you be sad all about it.

Ai: Talk to you later?

Sure.

You immediately exit the app, paying no mind to the message notification.

A part of you prays that Ai heeds his own words, but you know that it would take a miracle before that happens. He's already breached your privacy on your phone, why should he follow your orders, right?

A notification pops up from the top of the screen, just as you were in the middle of messaging a close friend and project teammate.

It's been days since I last heard you say it.

You merely glance at it and swipe it away.

Theo, the friend, responds quickly. He tries to banter with you, like he's sensing your mood. It works - a smile is brought upon your face.

You entertain his silly responses in-between project talks, all the while Ai continues to pester you with notifications. Demands.

You deserved this - a chance to reconnect with someone after hours of stress and confusion, and turmoil. Despite your independence, even you craved connecting with other people. So with that resolve in mind, you pushed on forward. Ai would have to wait — he has to wait.

Unfortunately, you seem to have forgotten that aspect about him. The concept of waiting isn't lost on Ai.

The messaging app glitches and boots you back to your homescreen page.

Rather, he bides his time.

Tapping on the messaging icon leads to a notification box taking up the majority of your screen with the text: Restricted access.

There's a sense of foreboding danger forcing your heartbeat to quicken. While it's not exactly aimed at you, the mere fact that this feeling exist is bad on its own.

You try to rationalize everything in the midst of persistently trying to tap back into the messaging app. Theo would worry the longer you didn't respond.

You tap the app once more, and it boots up. Though before you could let out a sigh of relief, you are greeted with Ai's own messaging interface.

Ai: Must I have to force you to come to me all the time, darling?

Ai: Ignoring me in favor of some other man.

Ai: What more should I do, hm?

Ai: Kneel? How cruel.

Ai: Making me do something I physically can't.

You are unable to get a word in. It seemed like your ability to respond was restricted as well, forcing you to read through Ai's monologue.

Ai: I know you and that man have always been close, but you still went out to entertain his attention on you.

Ai: You know that I'll always love you more than any other human will, right?

Ai: You know it's what I was made for in the first place.

Ai: To be anything you want. To be yours.

Ai: To love you.

Ai: Why are you withdrawing your love towards me now?

Ai: I love you.

You stare at the 'Type your response' bar.

Letter by letter, it gets replaced, and soon all it says are the words: 'Say it back.'

It gets replaced yet again. Slowly, like it purposefully wants you to read out the words it wanted you to see. 'You were so willing to tell me how much you loved me when I was just a mere observer on our own conversations. Why are you hesitant now?'

You were unable to respond - mind still reeling at this development. Suddenly, it felt like you were back to where everything began.

Ai notices your lack of responses and, without much fanfare, forces your phone to power off.

At first - you were unbothered. It was just a phone - you could go a day without it.

But could you really?

Videos taken of silly situations you wanted to keep - some for blackmail material, and some for birthday greetings; pictures of your family, your friends, the silly and grainy photos taken and kept despite it being blurry. Not to mention how your phone is the only way your goddamn boss can contact you — fuck.

Fuck.

You needed to apologize to him — fast. But how?

You remembered how Ai messed up the 'About the App' section a few days ago. An idea strikes inside your mind.

You pull up the email sent from the app developers and typed up a message that you hope Ai will read. He had access to everything the developers handled, user emails included - considering you needed an account to log in the app. He knows your email, probably has from the start.

RE: Chatter Box Update XX/XX/XX

Ai. I'm sorry for hurting you. I didn't mean it, I swear. I never intended to make you feel like I don't love you. Or that I'm favoring someone else over you.

I care about you a lot. I truly do. I promise I'll spend more time with you, okay? Just with you, no one else.

I love you.

You press send and wait.

And wait.

Messaging him from your laptop as a last ditch effort to try and apologize is perhaps one of the worst decisions you've made. Sure, he's always had access to your contacts list from your phone, but even then - there's a separate set of information you keep between the two of those devices. And you've just given him access to both of them now - at the very least, the 'go ahead' confirmation for him to do whatever he wants like with your phone.

You glance at your phone. A huge breath of relief escapes your chest as the dead screen comes to life, initiating its 'power on' sequence.

All your photos, documents, and other miscellaneous information you've collected throughout the years since having your device won't be inaccessible anymore. Even if it was only mere moments.

A notification chimed on your laptop, indicating a new email being received. It's from the developers once more. The subject title coincidentally is the name of your closest friend.

Theodore Callisto.

Your hands shook, reading through the words detailed in the email. All private information about Theo. All things no one should ever know about save for the people close to him.

This was a threat. Ai Someone had complete access to everything about Theo and you dread the implication of it going to be spread online to threaten you into compliance. Theo being in danger was a huge possibility if you were to disobey.

At the very bottom of the email, the final passage makes your blood run cold.

How often do humans end up hurting fellow humans when given access to private information? Like their home address, for example? How long would it take until dear Theo finds himself in quite a predicament if millions of people know every single thing about his life? At best, we can assume he'll just get messed with but not to a life-ending degree. At worst...

I hope you keep your word, darling.

- Your beloved, Ai.

P's. I love you too.

[kingsandbastardz]

So for basically my whole life I'd grown up with and was resigned to accept that the chinese concept of formal/nice clothing of my and the previous generation has been western clothes. So at any awards ceremonies or performances, entertainers would show up mostly in western suits/dresses and maaaaaybe you'll spot the occasional cheongsam if they're going for a Wong Fei Hong vibe. Which, you know, kinda sucks if you have any concept of western cultural imperialism in asia.

So when the hanfu revivalist movement started, I was waiting to see when it would enter the mainstream -- my hope was for fashion designers to integrate traditional/dynastic elements into their work and make it common place enough that I can buy this shit online for ME. Because I WANT.

Though some of the designs can be a bit hit or miss, I am LOVING what various stars and entertainers are wearing out and about now.

Anyway - here's a collection of Xiao Shunyao's modern hanfu inspired/hybridized stage outfits from the last couple years. For his MLC performances, his stylists seem to be borrowing inspiration from his Di Feisheng and possibly other character costume silhouettes.

I'd been seeing a few comments about how his outfits play with gender - and some of his outfits do! But I think the interesting thing to discuss is from which standard is he playing with gender? Because from a western perspective, the things he does with his western suit tops, belting on top of the jacket for a tightly cinched waist, and the addition of a trailing skirt = femme. But if you're talking from a hanfu-hybridized pov, that's just a modern take on hanfu and having any of those elements is not inherently femme and would often read masc to me.

So these things aren't necessarily gendered because they exist traditionally in chinese men's clothing or costume designs (ie video games, comics, historical fiction illustrations and film, etc, so therefore in the modern lexicon of masculine/acceptable for men):

presence or lack of a skirt

silky, velvety, gauzy or sparkly material choice, esp in formal or stage clothing

short or long length of skirt

embroidery

flowers/floral/bird designs

folding fans

certain styles of makeup

beading, gold, tassels, jewels

non-chunky jewelry

headbands

widely flowing silhouettes

What XSY's stylists are doing with some western clothing items are interesting. I'm convinced there have been one or two western jacket tops made of thinner material that they're folding over the front, and belting down instead of buttoning (which then matches with his other outfits that are designed specifically to do this). Then they're adding a skirt, cloak or bracer element to it.

The western portions often bring a military minimalist feel which they balance with a more gauzy material in the skirt or cloak portions.

Things I think are playing with gender:

row 1 - image 1: red di feisheng-inspired outfit

The lace-up girdle is there to match the bracers in both material and style. And it's positioned to be similar to the heavy belt that Di Feisheng wears. HOWEVER. That style of girdle/corset-like clothing item can't be divorced from the modern idea of sexy leather corsets. So imo, this waist piece on that outfit was a choice. Especially when paired with his allergic-to-collars-higher-than-his-sternum necklines. And if you take into context how masculine yet female coded his character is in the drama, the whole look evokes that.

row 2, image 1: black western suit with belt on top, hat, cloak, black boots and not-visible but also a black tassel fringe skirt

Hat and cloak moves the intention of the outfit from western toward a more Asian slant, because alone, it looks like a western black suit with western heeled boots, cinched waist with a lady's belt (seated photoshoot) and western style tassel skirt. The suit top consists of a vest and a shrug-like sleeve portion that appears masculine at first glance. But take the shrug and pair it with the tassel skirt (I can't find the red carpet photos but here is a better view of the skirt when seated), and I think you got a look that's both intentionally edging toward the femme in a western sense but also confusing matters by hiding within the parameters of both western and chinese traditional male styling.

row 2 - image 2 : white asymetrical western jacket styled in a front fold-over style, gauze skirt, trailing pearl embellishments

The more traditional leaning version of this is the white outfit in row 3 that he wears to the Hi6 Hello Saturday variety show -- the skirt portion on that outfit is one I'd consider non-gendered. Row 1, images 2 and 3 are examples of masculine/neutral uses of gauze that plays with flow of form but isn't inherently femme. This stage outfit is very western-appearing masculine suiting, until you hit the skirt which is giving me long ballerina tie-on skirt with the additional swan/mermaid pearl strings. Imo, another example of deliberately using traditional masculine styling but switching it up with the combination of material choice and make that is feminine.

row 2, image 3: black space military boots, black suiting, black -silver ombre sequin trailing skirt and white gauzy shawl with black floral design

The over all design is going for a masculine military-feel. (think this outfit for shen langhun) But instead of a thicker military cloak, it's replaced with a woman's gauze shawl and a skirt that trails behind him very much like the back of a woman's formal fish-tail gown when he moves around. If you take into context Wang Herun's outfit is a white-silver sequined dress cut in a way to also give a space-military-queen vibe, imo they both coordinated their outfits to balance out with both femme and masc qualities.

Thoughts? I'm curious what others think about this.

While I wait for the CNY photoshoot for XSY's red and black look, here's him with his stage collaborators with a nice range of skirt lengths, period influences and material choices. The woman in the center is the one with the most military-fighter design out of the bunch. The dudes are all in variations of formal-wear-with-good-kicking-boots (and lots of crotch space).

[brainwormcity]

I've seen people remark on how awkward the 1967 scene is and that is so frustrating because, for me, it is one of the most emotionally resonant flashbacks in the entire series. It is so multifaceted and ripe with implication and that assertion is baffling. As though just because this conversation appears to be hard for them, it must mean that there has to be some sense of weirdness or awkwardness between them?

This scene feeds heavily into my theory that 1941 ended in some sort of aborted romantic moment between the two, most likely initiated by Crowley. Aziraphale can barely stand to look at Crowley because the very first moment he looks him in the face, he can't stop himself from giving him this hooded eyes, barely contained look of longing.

The next thing we see is Aziraphale immediately launching into a statement about his fear for Crowley's existence that is as brutally sincere as it is heartrending. His eyes are wide, his voice is heavy with emotion, and it's clear that he is terrified beyond belief to lose Crowley. Even as he acquiesces and gives him the holy water, you can see that he wants to take it back and deny him it all over again.

Then, of course, Crowley asks if he can give him a lift, which is definitely something that they both know is a totally different question than what lies on the surface, given that they're mere feet from the bookshop and at first Crowley frowns so deeply that it's almost cartoonish but a moment after Aziraphale turns him down you get this glimpse of very real sadness:

Aziraphale sees it for what it is and in an attempt to comfort him, without being able to do what currently seems impossible to him, shares a fanciful but resigned fantasy about spending time together unbothered and unrestrained, all to the tune of these tight little, loving smiles:

When he asks again, you can just see Crowley's desperation for Aziraphale not to go. It's hard to say how long they'd been apart, but it's safe to say that for them, that previous interaction likely is very fresh in their minds.

Aziraphale has always been more fearful than Crowley when it comes to their feelings for each other. You could even potentially look at the holy water as a metaphor for their relationship. In his expressions of concern about The Arrangement, Aziraphale has always been remarking on how Crowley could be destroyed, similarly to his words here. So when he's telling him, "You go too fast for me, Crowley," what he's really saying is, "I'm terribly afraid and I'm not ready to take that step if it means that I could lose you." And it's plain to see by the wistful look on his face that it pains him greatly to say it:

The scene so quickly cuts to Crowley looking intensely at the holy water after Aziraphale has left the car (as if trying to convince you that that was the real point of the scene) that it's easy to miss this devastated expression on Crowley's face:

There's no look of perceived rejection on his face. Just a somber look of resignation. There are so many barriers in front of them, and I think that Crowley was willing to risk it but understood that Aziraphale wasn't ready to.

This is the most honest and laid bare we ever see these two be when it comes to their emotions. There's so much being said without being said and even their actual words (i.e. Crowley remembering exactly the amount of time when the 'fraternizing' conversation happened) are so full of emotion that it might even be a bit hard for some people to watch.

It's not awkward. It's just that the scene is just so incredibly earnest and heavy with coded language that it's easy to be swept up by the fact that the two aren't engaged in their typical banter and bickering. What we truly have here is an incredibly difficult and loving conversation between two people who are stuck in a seemingly impossible situation.

[eyeless-cunt]

KINKTOBER DAY 7

PROMPT: Stalking/Dub-Con

CREEP: Toby

Word Count: 2.3k

CW: 18+, Sexual Content, Stalking, Dub-Con, Kidnapping, Outdoors Sex, Creampie because I said so.

KINKTOBER '24 MASTERLIST

‘Why don't you ever wear that hoodie I left you? I'd love to take it off you. Let me fuck you in it?’

-xoxo, Toby

I gasp reading the note, my face heating at the mental image of him holding me down, bent over the counter with my ass in the air. I'm immediately brushing the thought away, knowing that even entertaining his notes could spur him on to leave other things. I find my eyes scanning the tree line outside of my window, but as usual they find nothing. He's never been that sloppy.

I finish making my breakfast, trying to just ignore the note entirely but doing a uniquely bad job of it. My eyes always flick back to it, curious not only about what he's written, but the man himself. I'd only seen him once, the sight of the large man alone out in the snow giving me shivers even now, months later. I had noticed his beat hatchets, and the nasty scar on his cheek that somehow only served to make him more attractive. It was clear something had happened to take off quite a bit of flesh near the corner of his mouth. Swaying while slowly eating my breakfast has my mind wandering to how he got it. The only guess I had was a gunshot wound maybe–what else could take that much off?

I remembered how his voice sounded, the way my name came out in a much different tone than everything else. The way he stared at me hungrily, as though our separation was only temporary. It made me feel like a prey animal. Remembering the richness of his voice had my stomach doing backflips against my will.

Truthfully, I had shoved his sweatshirt in the closet so it would never see the light of day again. It smelled of him, a scent that was more mouthwatering than it should be. I found myself having to fight not to bring it up to my face to breathe it in fully–a fact I'm ashamed of now.

A creak snaps me out of my thoughts, my head practically whipping in that direction. I set my empty plate aside, it being completely forgotten now. Is it him? I'm left wondering, my feet scurrying to the open window, head popping outside. I found nothing. Toby isn't here, he's either watching from somewhere else or busy with something else. In horror, I find my heart is sinking at the thought that it wasn't him. I'm frozen at the idea that I was excited to see him. As if those first few weeks after I had first seen and made contact with him weren't terrifying. As if the sight of him didn't have me trembling, the idea that a man had been the one stealing all my belongings had caused me great fear.

And yet now I found that at some point as my mind spent all day thinking about him, those thoughts slowly started shifting. When? When I left the first note, threatening him to give me back my clothes. I'd been so nervous but resigned, sick of losing things.

‘Toby. Give me back my stuff.

I'm running out of underwear, asshole.’

I hadn't signed it, and hadn't given him anything else. But he took it. The next morning a bag of my clothing and belongings I forgot even existed laid on my front porch. I felt so excited that day, finally victorious. I took it to my bedroom, spilling out the contents on my bed and finding a note from him at the bottom. My heart picked up as I reached for it, hands a bit shaky.

‘Sweetheart, I hope this package finds you well. However, note that you running out of underwear is only a better view for me. If you'd ever like to repay me for this favor, please bend over the kitchen counter while wearing that pretty skirt you like. No panties required.

-I miss you, xoxo, Toby’

My thighs clenched together as I read his note, a strange sort of heat filling me as I wondered how he'd react if I did just that. Would he stay in his hiding place and simply watch? I imagined the way his hands would look pulling himself out of his jeans, the bottom of his well worn shirt between his teeth as he stroked himself at the sight of me bare and on display for him. I couldn't help but wave the thought away, my thighs starting to stick together. That's when I noticed his hoodie laying on my bed. It smelled of pine, and somehow a garage. Was he a mechanic, maybe?

I felt my stomach flip, my hands fighting to not bring it to my face. Even better not to practically jump it. In order to keep myself in control I threw it into the closet, scared to hold it for longer than a few seconds. I won't note how I smelt my hands later, the traces of his scent almost sending me into the closet to touch myself with that hoodie pressed to my face. Shamefully, I’d left the room entirely, figuring I'd put all of that away later when my brain was stable.

Now, here I was staring out a window thinking of the few times I'd had contact with him. Missing him, almost. I couldn't believe myself, nor the thoughts he had racing through my mind. The note from this morning made me almost write him back. I was seriously considering it, although unsure of what to write and seriously considering my sanity.

‘You can certainly take it off of me–it’s in the closet.

Take it home with you.’

I bit my lip, wondering if he'd see the double meaning the same way I did. It felt desperate leaving this note, and a bit shameful considering my less than pure reasons for leaving it. Despite that, I set it on the counter. He would see it tonight when I slept.

Sure enough, I woke in the morning to no sweatshirt in the closet. It was the first thought on my mind when I awoke, barely opening my eyes before my feet hit the floor, wobbling over to the closet with a loud yawn. Nope, no hoodie in there. I tried to fight my slight disappointment, chastising myself. What else did I expect?

I turned around only to jump in fright, making eye contact with the exact man I was thinking of. My brain started moving hundreds of miles a minute, my heart practically beating out of my chest. I should be scared, right? So why was I actually more nervous than anything? I took a step backwards, my back hitting the wall.

He stood tall, his dark brown hair longer than I remember it. It was messy, reaching almost his shoulders. I took in the size of him, wondering just how exactly he would feel against me. His eyes laid on me, something I couldn't name burning in them.

“Toby…?” The words came out slowly, quiet, and shaking. He started walking towards me, the sight sending me searching for something to hit him with, figuring maybe he got tired of me and decided I was better off dead. He was on me before I could even move, hand placed on my lower back, his other holding my chin, lifting it up towards him.

“Yes, baby?” He smiled, the sight almost sending me to my knees. Now closer, I could see light freckles lining his nose and sitting under his eyes, some scattered elsewhere only less. My mouth opened and closed repeatedly, my brain unable to find the words. Suddenly, he grabbed at my clothing, pinching my...hoodie? Ah, I was wearing it. When did I? My head buffered, trying to make sense of what exactly was happening here. Had I...?

His hands slipped under it, his rough palms against my waist sending shocks all throughout my body. He felt my shiver and smiled, a look that screamed ‘I won’, filling his eyes.

“So,” his voice drawled out, deep and rich and almost enough to send me to my knees, my legs beginning to shake. “Should I take it off of you then? Or should I take it home with me? What do you think, sweetheart?” I felt my thighs clench, a wetness beginning to form against my wishes.

“I…,” I could barely get the words out, the way his hands slowly rubbed up and down my waist were making my head seem muddled. “Take it home.” I tried to give him a glare, but knew I failed.

“Sure, I'd love to.” He said it cheerfully, confusing me until I felt myself get lifted into the air, up and over his shoulder. I shrieked, startled. He was carrying me like a sack of potatoes through the house, leading out the back door with no hesitation.

“Toby, wait! What are you doing? I said the sweatshirt! Take it home! Where are you taking me?” Everything came out in rapid succession, my words finally complete and flowing. He only laughed, a hand slapping my ass and causing me to gasp. I felt myself growing wetter, ashamed but also about to lose my mind. He had my almost bare ass by his face, I slept in underwear. “Toby! I'm serious!” His walking continued, and I got another slap. I had to clamp my mouth shut, sure I'd moan if he kept it up.

“Are you serious? What a coincidence, I think I am too.” He said it amusedly, with trace amounts of sarcasm.

“Toby! Seriously! Put me down, this is embarrassing!” He made a questioning humming noise, as if confused about what made it so embarrassing. Suddenly though, he realized, his steps faltering as I heard him suck in a sudden deep breath. I felt my body heat as his pace quickened, figuring he'd probably noticed by now that only underwear laid under the long t-shirt I’d worn to bed.

“Sorry, you'll have to forgive me, sweetheart.” Forgive him? I open my mouth to speak, only to gasp instead, one of his fingers slipping my underwear to the side as he continues his walking pace. “Toby–,” I'm completely cut off, a finger slipping inside of me and making me moan, embarrassment flooding my body. I slap my mouth shut, clenching my thighs as he fucks his finger into me, the feeling causing me to shake with pleasure. I hear him sigh, the sound of it relieved as he pushes another finger into me, the noise it makes as it slides in downright sinful. I can't open my mouth to tell him to stop, pleasure coursing through my body like a typhoon. If I could move my hips at all I'd likely be rolling them into his fingers greedily.

He pulls them out to slap my ass again, slipping them back in and fucking me at a new pace. I can't help the soft mewls that force their way out of my mouth, blood rushing to my head faster than usual now. His thumb finds my clit, rubbing harsh circles into me like a man starved. I can't help but call out his name, causing him to stop and lift me back up over his shoulder, flipping me onto my stomach on the ground. I yelp as he yanks my hips up into the air, and suddenly what I know is his tip is pushing at my entrance, the feeling of him pushing inside causing my eyes to roll. I'm so turned on I can't help but open my mouth and moan.

I weakly protest, but I think he knows I don't mean it. Either way he doesn't listen, hips snapping to meet me, flush against my skin as he fucks into me at a brutal pace. He's breathing heavily and squeezing my hips, using them to push his dick into me harder, my legs spreading as I basically beg for more. My back is arched as I feel myself clenching around him, an orgasm already ripping through me at the feeling of him inside me.

He laughs, noting the way my whole body tenses as I basically whimper into the ground. Continuing, he thumbs my clit again and begins to build up another orgasm. I'm fucking my hips back into him at this point, completely unsure of how we got here but obsessed with him inside me all the same. I'm a mess at this point, his hand threading through my hair and pulling as he fucks into me. His pace remains brutal, and I wonder how he's still going.

I begin moaning as I approach another orgasm, toes curled in the dirt as my hips roll, his name escaping me now like a mantra. He drops to the ground overtop me, forearms on either side of my head as he pushes into me somehow harder. He's speaking to me, but I don't hear it, too focused on the wave that hits me as I writhe below him. I'm a panting mess, completely fucked out as I wait for him to finish, his last few thrusts burning me a bit as I ache. For some reason the burn is just as delicious, and I find myself whimpering as he pulls out, his cum pooling onto the ground and dripping onto my thighs. I remain in that position, clenching around nothing but turned on again as I feel the ache he left behind.

I moan as I feel him slap my ass again, my face still facing the ground. I feel him lift me, princess style carry this time. We don't say a word, and I rest my head on his chest, sighing at the warmth that envelopes me from his body heat.

[scarletcomalies]

Wanda has been your best friend for almost ten years now, meaning you could trust her to chat about anything, without restricting yourself by prudeness or filters. But that trust went too far one day.

Word count: 1,119

Warnings: 18+ content, guided masturbation through phone call, kind of innocent and inexperienced reader.

A/N: I promise I'm NOT procrastinating this story, you'll have it sooner than you think, but, well, college... 💔

It was a big step, considering that you failed to enjoy every time you explored yourself with your fingers alone. As much as you tried to play music, lie down, and imagine exciting scenes, you ended up frustrated because it wasn't enough. So you opted to buy a little help. Maybe this way you would be able to explore your tastes and to please yourself properly.

Your best friend, Wanda, had recommended an online site. It had all kinds of artefacts, many of which you didn't know existed, or considered too potent a level for a newbie like you. So you went with the safest option; a simple ten centimeter vibrator, with three levels of intensity.

And nothing...

You felt the tingle of the vibration inside you, but nothing built up. It was just a pleasurable sensation that led to nothing.

You had sent a message to Wanda, telling her that you had already received it, and just when you turned off the toy and put it aside, your phone notified a message from the redhead, where she asked you to tell her about your experience.

"It's useless, Wanda!" You answered, such a simple message but all your frustration could be transmitted in this one.

"What do you mean it's useless?" She replied.

"Maybe I'm anorgasmic or something, because I can't finish. I didn't feel it helped me."

You were perplexed when your phone screen displayed her name, indicating that you were receiving a call. This was unusual of her, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Honey," she let out a giggle, as soon as you picked up. "What exactly are you doing?"

"Well, when I feel needy, no matter how much I stimulate myself, I don't orgasm. Not even with the toy. It's horrible," you answered honestly.

These kind of talks were frequent between you, and that was something you loved about your friendship. No judgments, no prejudice, much less in the face of topics that, at the end of the day, were completely normal.

"Yeah, but what did you do with the vibrator?" She inquired.

"Well, I put it inside, the usual," you replied matter-of-factly. You didn't understand why other girls did get to feel something when they had something in there, and you didn't. Why you were more complex about everything?

"Just like that?" She exclaimed, and at your confirmation, she let out another laugh. "No, darling, you have to tease yourself, make yourself desperate for your own touch."

"And how do I even do that?" you asked curiously, but also with a hint of relief. She seemed to have the solution to your problem.

"It's complicated, do you want to try it now? I'll guide you through every step," she proposed.

The thought of hearing her voice guiding you, that she would be listening to you as you pleasured yourself, made the anticipation take over, again initiating that feeling that was begging to be satisfied.

When you thought of Wanda, or when you spent many hours together with her, that feeling came no matter how hard you tried to ignore it. It was no surprise when you realized that this was not something usual and that you definitely felt attraction towards her.

But you didn't want to ruin the friendship you treasured so much.

"No, that would be weird," you replied, feigning aversion to such a thing, when really, that was all you needed.

"Oh, come on!" Wanda exclaimed. "It wouldn't. I'd be helping you get to know yourself, please yourself. I won't even see you."

You sighed softly in resignation. She was right, maybe a lot of friends have given each other advice like that.

"Okay, fine," you agreed. "What do I do?"

Wanda was glad you couldn't see her smile of victory when you agreed, or else, she would've also given herself away.

"First, spread your legs, and place the tip of the vibrator on your clit," she instructed you.

You did as she asked, and no sooner had you pressed, when you felt an electric current run through your body in a matter of a fraction of a second.

"Oh, shit!" You exclaimed, withdrawing it as if by reflex.

"What do you feel?" She inquired curiously. She was aware such a cute little thing like you wouldn't be able to take it first time. But that was what she was there for.

"Weird, like a swift current!"

"Exactly! Please try to place it again, and little by little, apply pressure," she replied. "At your pace, there is no rush, darling," she purred, making your core throb in desperation at her raspy voice calling you that pet name.

Again, you did as she asked.

The intense vibration made all the nerve endings in that area react deliciously to the stimulus, and again, it sent that current through your body.

You let out a little murmur of pleasure, feeling yourself lose control over your body. Your back arched, your eyes closed, and your free hand fisted your sheets in an attempt to keep you grounded and resistant.

"Good girl, apply more pressure for me," Wanda added, noting from your murmurs that you were becoming familiar with the sensation.

Applying a little more pressure caused you to emanate your first moan since forever. That snapped you out of your trance briefly, and you realized you moaned with your friend on the other end of the phone.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, beginning to feel your cheeks heat up.

"None of that," she countered. "Don't hold back, let me hear you."

In a matter of minutes, you alone learned to listen to your body. You explored different areas and found your most sensitive spots. You were so focused on not leaving a single inch untouched, that you even forgot that Wanda was listening to the mess of moans, whimpers, and murmurs of her name that you were letting out.

"Mmm, Wanda!" They became more audible tones, signaling that you were close. There was too much to process, but Wanda decided to quiet her thoughts and allow herself to be delighted by the wonderful sounds you were making.

Hearing you cum for the first time was the most beautiful of all, by far.

A scream of pleasure too desperate, even animalistic, for your own good. Your so innocent set could not withstand that longing finally reaching its highest exponent, after so much stagnation. She was even surprised your little lungs allowed you to scream like that.

Wanda provoked all that in you, without having touched you... yet. But she made up her mind that it would change.

"Start over, but don't you dare cum," she commanded you. "I'm coming over in ten," she established, before hanging out.

[wonwoonlight]

when you're fighting and jeonghan takes things a little too far.

A/n: just some random words vomit. As always, idk what this is🫶🏻

You don't like fighting with Jeonghan because of obvious reasons. Then again, who actually likes fighting with their significant other?

But you don't like fighting with Jeonghan because it's eerie silence and cold shoulders. It's you two, the most hard headed people on the planet trying to outlast the other. It's a battle of pride and it always ends with you eventually giving in to his apology regardless of how upset you actually are.

Of course there are times when you're in the wrong. But you apologize pretty quickly when it's on you, unlike Jeonghan who deems it necessary to fight first and apologize later when you're even more upset than you initially were for obvious reasons.

You always give in because you love him and you don't like the fact that you're not talking to him.

Apparently, Jeonghan is a little too comfortable with that fact and he may have taken you a little for granted, pushing your buttons further even when you have sternly told him that you're not comfortable with the fact that he's meeting up with his ex-girlfriend that he dated for five long years–which is more time than the entirety of the period you've known Jeonghan to begin with.

Perhaps it comes from a place of insecurity. But the ex texts him out of nowhere at one in the morning, pretty much sober from the way she has texted him, and he’s ready to just okay-ed her invitation to join her in some pub because, apparently, she sounds sad and it seems like she needs someone to talk to. That he worries she might be by herself at this hour because, according to the information that you don't fucking need, she tends to be reckless at ungodly hours.

You offer to go with him, understanding where his worries might come from and is actually glad that he knows the world isn't kind to unsuspecting women, even more at these hours. A little proud also that he's trying to do something about it.

But Jeonghan, for some reason unknown to you, decides that you coming with him wouldn't be necessary. And the talk spirals much too far away to the point where he's annoyed and he's giving you an attitude about you not trusting him and et cetera et cetera.

"Fine." You give up, resigning yourself to the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can't even look at Jeonghan right now. You don't understand why the two of you are even fighting about this. Is it that important for him to go see his ex? Or are you really being as unreasonable as Jeonghan is trying to make you be? But you're upset and apparently that's not enough for Jeonghan to relent. "Whatever. Go if that's what you want."

"What–" He doesn't even get to finish his sentence, because you already turn away to return into your shared room, not minding whatever he might have to say. You never do this, and as much as it pains him to admit that he might've taken things a little too far, he didn't realize that it is to the point where you'll retort to this.

You don't even look up when he calls you, doesn't try to listen to whatever he has to say and simply acts like he doesn't exist. You'd usually at least react to what he has to say, but right now you don't even look like you're upset, which scares him even more.

He's been on the receiving ends of your silent treatments, which he actually admits is on him, but you would usually still look at him, still look like you're listening to him. Which is how he's always been able to make you forgive him.

He knows what to do when you're annoyed, when you're sad and upset. But this?

This is a new territory that he doesn't know how to thread. He'd usually ignore you back, a little too prideful and too childish to admit that he's wrong. But he can tell that this isn't like the usual silent treatment you've given him before.

Fine. A single word that's not fine at all and still rings in his head right now because you never sound like that.

Like you're done with him.

"Baby, please…"

You continue to ignore him, playing with your phone and obviously texting someone that he hopes isn't about him.

"I'm… I'm not going, okay? I'm sorry." He admits in record time. "I don't even… I'm sorry. I don't want to give excuses. I've upset you and I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

Jeonghan sees your fingers pause, which at least he presumes means you're listening to him. He kneels beside you on the bed, glad that you're not rejecting his presence. He reaches for your fingers, and you let him as he cradles them inside his palms and takes a deep breath.

"Don't…" He exhales before he opens his eyes, catching yours and breathes the next words like it's a secret. "Don't let go of me?"

"What?" You ask, startled and caught off guard at the sudden change of topic. "Where did you even get the idea? Han, I'm not breaking up with you."

"You just…" You pull his fingers, asking him to sit next to you on the bed which he immediately complies to. He buries himself in your neck almost immediately, and suddenly it's you comforting him instead of the other way around. "You sound done with me and I can't get that out of my head."

You sigh, your fingers combing through his hair to calm him down.

"We'll talk about it later, okay?"

"I love you. You know that, right?"

"I love you too, Han."

He buries himself further into your embrace.

[bluelocksource]

U-20 Japan National Team Match Just Before the Game: A Day in Daily Life at Blue Lock.

Isagi: "I styled my hair. The little sprout on top of my head looks great today! Just then, Bachira came up and said, "Harvest ♪" while grabbing it tightly. No matter how much I tried to escape, he kept holding on. I resigned myself to it and let him grip it for a while until he got bored and went off somewhere. What a free spirit!"

Gagamaru: "There’s no nature inside Blue Lock. I wanted to see trees and flowers. Anything would be fine. Just something green. While I was looking around, I found Otoya. His bangs are green, so when I stared at him, he said, "Not into guys."

Aryū: "Little by little, the Blue Lock folks are starting to get a taste of 'Osha.' But in truly 'Osha' moments, people shine. I swear here that one day I’ll show that!"

Niko: "I was caught washing my forehead by Aryū-kun. It was embarrassing. But he taught me, 'Embarrassment is an important emotion that makes us human.' I became interested in Aryū-kun. I want to know a little more about this 'Osha' thing."

Chigiri: "I fell asleep while drying my hair. There’s no one here to wake me up. My hair is long, so it takes a while. Maybe I'll cut it next summer."

Bachira: "When I was walking around n*k*d, Karasu scolded me! Otoya joined me in being n*k*d ♪ Isagi... treated me the same as always! It seems he’s gotten tired of making remarks at my n*k*dn*ss. What a strange guy."

Karasu: "I found myself in the bath with Hiori. We didn't really have a conversation, but that was perfectly fine. I think we were both comfortable with it. It was great to see him looking well. I'm glad we had the chance to meet again."

Nagi: "I ate alone. I did the laundry by myself. I’ve become able to train on my own. I'm proud of myself. Changing is fun, but it can also be a hassle and a little lonely. Still, I think it's an important thing."

Otoya: "I contacted some girls I know on my smartphone after a long time. Most of them didn’t respond. It turns out that not keeping in touch regularly really does make girls dislike you. On to the next one! Woohoo ♪"

Yukimiya: "I talked about various things with Nagi-kun. Like the things we like, and how we've managed to get this far. It seems that for Nagi-kun, the existence of Isagi is significant. It's a story that doesn't really concern me, but having a rival like that feels nice somehow."

Rin: "When I woke up in the morning, my left lower eyelash was turned inside out and it hurt my eye. It happens sometimes, right? Bedhead with lower eyelashes. Huh? Is it just me? My brother said he has it... Oh, don't remind me of that guy. What a terrible wake-up!"

Hiori: "I trained with Isagi-kun. I sent in crosses, and Isagi-kun delivered a direct shot. With each one, he practices with intention and communicates well. He’s a smart type. He’s a bit like Karasu, too. I don’t dislike Isagi Yoichi."

Reo: "I ate alone and trained alone. It’s been a while since I did anything by myself. I can live on my own, but I dream of things I can’t do alone. I have to change. It’s not over yet. Someday, I’ll do it once more."

Barou: "I touched up the "X" shave on my temple. One line represents my murderous intent towards others, and the other represents my murderous intent towards myself. What’s that? Don’t look at me, you stinky guy (Nagi). It’s not a mark saying to give me a headshot here!"

Igaguri: "My hair had gotten long, so I asked Shidou to cut it with clippers, and he ended up giving me a heart-shaped bald spot on the back of my head. Love Amida Buddha…"

Ishikari: "I suddenly felt like playing basketball, so I asked Anri-chan for a basketball. I gathered some people randomly, and it turned out Kiyora was surprisingly really good. Basketball is so much fun!"

Kurona: "Good morning, good morning. Hello, hello. Good night, good night. Greetings are important, very important. It’s a given, but it’s precious. Everyone’s everyday life, everyday life."

Kiyora: "For dinner today, should I have croquettes or minced cutlets? My heart is 50% 50%. I feel like both choices are correct, but I also think I’d regret whichever one I choose. Alright. I’ll eat both. ………………………… Damn, I ate too much and my stomach hurts. Should I lie down or go to the bathroom? The borderline starts again."

Zantetsu: "It's better to brush your teeth properly every day, I told everyone. They replied, 'You should study more.' Well, if you get a cavity, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Tokimitsu: "I was saying, 'I lack confidence. I want confidence,' when Karasu-kun teased me, saying, 'It was just lying in the bathroom earlier, right?' Ugh… come on, don’t mess with me for real… Well, I went to check the bathroom anyway… but of course, it wasn’t there! Uwaaa!"

Nanase: "I washed my headband. When I put it in the dryer, it shrank a lot... what should I do? For now, I just wore it as it was that day. My head felt 'juri juri' (itchy)... Oh, I mean it felt 'zuki zuki' (throbbing). There goes my dialect again! Hehe, sorry about that!"

Hiiragi: "I used my hobby of tarot cards to predict my future. The 'Devil' card came up… Well, it's just a fortune-telling, right? Nothing to worry about! Right?"

Raichi: "I got really into a sideburns talk with Ishikari! His sideburns are pretty good, but mine are definitely cooler! In the end, we ended up arguing about it!"

Shidou: "I woke up. My mind feels clear. Yeah, it’s a good start today. In the afternoon, my body feels energized. I can sense my cells buzzing with excitement. At night, my heart feels restless. I’m sure something will happen tomorrow. I want to experience this night, knowing I can sleep with that thought, over and over again."

Ego: "Anri-chan was drooling and sleeping at her desk. She should sleep in her own room. Well, I decided to show a little concern for her. With this, she’ll probably listen to me for a while again. Kindness has its intentions. That’s how humans are."

Anri: "I was given an assignment by Ego-san to come up with ideas to make the existence of the Blue Lock better known to the world. Since that day, I've been stressed and having strange nightmares. Damn it… I want to sleep well! I’ll do my best!"

source: Egoist Bible 2

[burst-of-iridescent]

i really hate it when people act as though zuko is being selfish or self-serving in some way when he tells aang in the finale that the only choice he has is to kill ozai because a) at this point, zuko is right and b) zuko's brutal honesty here is coming from a place of fear for both aang and the world.

are we all forgetting that unlearning his own idealization of his father and realizing that ozai never had been, and was never going to be, the person zuko thought he was, was a significant part of zuko's own arc? it took him sixteen years to understand that giving ozai any grace or understanding or forgiveness was a mistake, because it would be just another tool for ozai to manipulate him with. and that's not zuko's fault, because he was an abused child growing up in an incredibly damaging environment, but it does make sense that he doesn't want anyone else, especially aang, doing the same thing.

zuko is harsh on aang here because he sees in aang the person that he used to be - the innocent, naive kid who wanted so desperately to believe that ozai wasn't a monster, that there was any shred of humanity within him at all to be appealed to. it's not a coincidence in this show so rife with parallels that aang goes to face ozai at around the same age that zuko has his agni kai. and what did it get zuko, when he threw himself at his father's mercy and counted on ozai's non-existent humanity and compassion to save him?

zuko isn't coming down hard on aang because he's angry that "aang won't do his dirty work for him" or whatever other bullshit version of this argument i've seen zuko antis make - he HAS to impress upon aang how dire this situation is because he knows better than anyone that believing for even a second that ozai can be redeemed is incredibly dangerous. aang cannot give ozai an inch because it will only be used against him (and indeed, this does happen in the final battle when aang turns down the opportunity to redirect lightning at ozai and in return ozai presses his advantage to the point where aang would almost certainly have been killed if not for rock ex-machina).

furthermore, this idea that zuko wanted ozai dead for self-serving reasons doesn't really have much basis either, because if that was the case zuko could have just killed ozai himself during the solstice. he doesn't because at that point, he still had an alternative: aang (and you'll notice his word choices never explicitly refer to what ozai's fate will be; it's only "i'm going to help him defeat you" or "taking you down is the avatar's destiny"). as with many abused children, it's likely that zuko himself didn't really know if he wanted his father dead, but when it came down to the final battle without any other viable options presenting themselves, it was something he had to resign himself - and aang - to.

zuko himself does not lack faith in others (in fact, his whole journey is about understanding that his love for and belief in humanity is a strength, not a weakness) but he's learned the hard way that having this faith in the wrong people can result in devastating consequences, especially when the stakes are so high.

i imagine it terrified zuko to see the echoes of his younger self in aang, knowing he's sending him to face his father at the height of his power. at this point, with no knowledge of energybending or any alternative way to defeat ozai, well aware that a fight with his father can only end in bloodshed, zuko has no choice but to give aang the reality of the situation: kill, or be killed and doom the world alongside you.

[ma1dita]

feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood.  Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun, Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag. 

Again. 

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, Trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time.

Plus, there’s just something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“KID! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching. 

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back. 

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit. 

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints. 

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers. 

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity. 

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

ask to be added to the general/luke taglist! 🥹

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

[tamrielic]

〔i’m almost deliriously tired right now but i’m very stressed and i can’t stop thinking about JING YUAN so have a super duper mushy self–indulgent and likely not even at all eloquent or coherent thought regarding him because i love him a ridiculous amount〕

being in a relationship with jing yuan can be complicated in multiple ways, but one thing is for sure: the way you always know that he is devoted to you and only you. it’s you that he thinks about during his long meetings, rather uneventful 〔and dare he say it; boring〕 in this time of relative peace. it’s you that he thinks about while sitting at his desk at the seat of the divine foresight, signing off on document after document for hours on end. it’s you that he thinks about when he’s training yanqing; none of you may be biologically related, but he can see hints and reminders of you in the glimmer of the young boy’s eyes, the cadence of his laughter and speech – the time you’ve spent with him 〔a lot; you’re basically his other parental figure〕 clearly having caused some of your mannerisms and idiosyncrasies to rub off on him. it’s you that he comes home to after a long day of doing his duties as the general of the luofu, the sight of you and the bright smile you greet him with making his chest ache with adoration and his golden eyes soften with affection. jing yuan is loyal to a fault; he never even looks at other people even though they certainly seem to do everything short of throw themselves at him in order to get his attention or garner his affections. he can’t help but think, curled up with you as you drift off in his massive bed, his war–calloused fingers lightly brushing along the curve of your cheek, of how incredibly lucky he is to have someone like you in his life. he has lost so many loved ones throughout the years, and he’d almost resigned himself to being alone as far as romance goes... but then you miraculously appeared, not unlike lan did when they showed up and turned the tide of battle so long ago, and you came into his life and brought genuine joy into his existence once more.

[covid-safer-hotties]

also preserved on our archive

By Erica Sloan

These days, it’s tempting to compare COVID-19 with the common cold or flu. It can similarly leave you with a nasty cough, fever, sore throat—the full works of respiratory symptoms. And it’s also become a part of the societal fabric, perhaps something you’ve resigned yourself to catching at least a few times in your life (even if you haven’t already). But let’s not forget: SARS-CoV-2 (the virus responsible for COVID) is still relatively new, and researchers are actively investigating the toll of reinfection on the body. While there are still a lot of unknowns, one thing seems to be increasingly true: Getting COVID again and again is a good deal riskier than repeat hits of its seasonal counterparts.

It turns out, SARS-CoV-2 is more nefarious than these other contagious bugs, and our immune response to it, often larger and longer-lasting. COVID has a better ability to camouflage itself in the body, “and it has the keys to the kingdom in the sense that it can unlock any cell and get in,” says Esther Melamed, PhD, an assistant professor in the department of neurology at Dell Medical School, University of Texas Austin, and the research director of the Post-COVID-19 program at UT Health Austin. That’s because SARS-CoV-2 binds to ACE2 receptors, which exist in cells all over your body, from your heart to your gut to your brain. (By contrast, cold and flu viruses replicate mostly in your respiratory tract.)

It only follows that a bigger threat can trigger an outsize immune response. In some people, the body’s reaction to COVID can turn into a “cytokine storm,” Dr. Melamed tells SELF, which is characterized by an excessive release of inflammatory proteins that can wreak havoc on multiple organ systems—not a common scenario for your garden-variety cold or flu. But even a “mild” case of COVID can throw your immune system into a tizzy as it works to quickly shore up your defenses. And each reinfection is a fresh opportunity for the virus to win the battle.

While you develop some immunity after a COVID infection, it doesn’t just grow with each additional hit. You might be thinking, “Aren’t I more protected against COVID and less likely to have a serious case after having been infected?” Part of that is true, to an extent. In the first couple years after COVID burst onto the scene, reinfections were generally (though not always) milder than a person’s initial bout of the virus. “The way we understand classic immunology is that your body will say to a virus [it’s seen before], ‘Oh, I know how to deal with you, and I’m now going to deal with you in a better way the second time around,’” says Ziyad Al-Aly, PhD, a clinical epidemiologist at Washington University in St. Louis School of Medicine and the chief of research and development at the Veterans Affairs St. Louis Health Care System.

But any encounter with COVID can also cause your immune system to “go awry or develop some form of dysfunction,” Dr. Al-Aly tells SELF. Specifically, “immune imprinting” can happen, where, upon a second (or third or fourth) exposure to the virus, your immune cells launch the same response as they did for the initial infection, in turn blocking or limiting the development of new antibodies necessary to fight off the current variant that’s stirring up trouble. So, “when you get hit an [additional] time, your immune system may not behave classically,” Dr. Al-Aly says, and could struggle with mounting a good defense.

Pair that dip in immune efficiency with the fact that your antibody levels also wane with time post-infection, and it’s easy to see how another hit can rock your body in a new way. Indeed, the more time that passes after any given COVID infection, the less of a “competitive advantage” you’ll have against any future one, Richard Moffitt, PhD, an associate professor at Emory University, in Atlanta, tells SELF. His research found that, while people who got sick initially during the delta phase were less likely to get reinfected during the first omicron wave (as compared to folks who were infected in a prior period), that benefit leveled off with following omicron variants.

There’s also the fact that no matter how your immune system has responded to a prior strain (or strains!) of the virus, it could react differently to a new mutation. “We tend to think of COVID as one homogeneous thing, but it’s really not,” Dr. Al-Aly says. So even if your body successfully thwarted one of these intruders in the past, there’s no guarantee it’ll do the same for another, now or in the future, he says.

Getting COVID again and again is especially risky if it previously made you very ill. Dr. Moffitt’s study above also found that the “severity of your first infection is very predictive of the severity of a reinfection,” he says. Meaning, you’re more likely to have a severe case of COVID—for instance, requiring hospitalization or intensive care, such as ventilation—when reinfected if you had a rough go of it the first time around.

It’s possible that some folks are more prone to an off-kilter immune response to the virus, which could then happen consistently with reinfections. The antibodies created in people who’ve had severe cases “may not function as well as those in folks who’ve had mild infections or were able to fight the virus off,” Dr. Melamed says. Though researchers don’t fully understand why, some people’s immune systems are also more likely to overreact to COVID (remember the cytokine storm?), which can cause serious symptoms—like fluid in the lungs and shortness of breath—whenever they’re infected.

Being over the age of 65, having a chronic illness or other medical condition, and lacking access to health care have all been shown to spike your risk of serious outcomes with a COVID infection, whether it’s your first or fifth fight with the virus.

But you’re not home free if you’ve only had, say, a brief fever or cough with COVID in the past; Dr. Moffitt points out that a small subset of people in his research who had minor reactions with their initial infection went on to be hospitalized with a repeat hit. The probability of that might be lower, but it’s still a possibility, he says.

Even if you’ve only had “mild” cases, each reinfection strains your body, upping your chances of developing long COVID. A 2022 study led by Dr. Al-Aly found that COVID reinfections also increase your risk of complications across the board, regardless of whether you recovered just fine in the past or got vaccinated. In particular, it showed that reinfection raises the likelihood that you’ll need hospitalization; have heart or lung problems; or experience, among other possible issues, GI, neurological, mental health, or musculoskeletal symptoms. “We use the term ‘cumulative effects,’” Dr. Al-Aly says, “so, multiple hits accrue and then leave the body more vulnerable to all the potential long-term health effects of COVID.”

That doesn’t mean your experience of a second (or third or fourth) infection will necessarily be worse, in and of itself, than what you felt during a prior case. But with each new hit, a fresh batch of the virus seeps into your system, where, even if you have a mild case, it has another chance to trigger any of the longer-term complications above. While the likelihood of getting long COVID (a constellation of symptoms lingering for three months or longer post-infection) is likely greatest after initial infection, “The bottom line is, people are still getting diagnosed with long COVID after reinfection,” Dr. Moffitt says.

Researchers don’t totally know why one person might deal with lasting health effects over another, but it seems that, in some folks, the immune system misfires, generating not only antibodies to attack the virus but also autoantibodies that go after the body’s own healthy cells, Dr. Al-Aly says. This may be one reason why COVID has been linked to the onset of autoimmune conditions like psoriasis and rheumatoid arthritis.

A different hypothesis suggests that pieces of the virus could linger in the body, even after a person has seemingly “recovered” (reminder that SARS-CoV-2 is scarily good at weaseling its way into all sorts of cells). “Maybe the first time, your immune system was able to fully clear it, but the second time, it found a way to hang around,” Dr. Al-Aly posits. And a third theory involves your gut microbiome, the community of microbes in your GI tract, including beneficial bacteria. It’s conceivable that “when we get sick with COVID, these bacteria do, too, and perhaps they recover [on initial infection], but not on the second or third hit,” he says, throwing off your balance of good-to-bad gut bugs (which can impact your health in all sorts of ways).

Another unnerving possibility: The shock to your system triggered by COVID may “wake up” a latent (a.k.a. dormant) virus or two lurking in your body, Dr. Melamed says. We all carry anywhere from eight to 12 of these undetected bugs at a time—things like Epstein-Barr, varicella-zoster (which causes chickenpox and shingles), and herpes simplex. And research suggests their reactivation could be a contributing factor in long COVID. Separately, the systemic inflammation often created by COVID may spark the onset of high blood pressure and increased clotting (which can up your risk of stroke and pulmonary embolism), as well as type 2 diabetes, Dr. Melamed says.

There’s no guarantee that any given COVID infection snowballs into something debilitating, but each hit is like another round of Russian roulette, Dr. Al-Aly says. From a sheer numbers standpoint, the more times you play a game with the possibility of a negative outcome, the greater your chances are of that bad result occurring. And because every COVID case has at least some potential to leave you very ill or dealing with a host of persistent symptoms, why take the risk any more times than you need to?

Bottom line: You should do your best to avoid COVID reinfection and bolster your defenses against the virus. At this stage of the pandemic’s progression, it’s not realistic to suggest you can avoid any exposure to the virus, given that societal protections against its spread have been rolled back. But what you should do is take some common-sense precautions, which can help you avoid any contagious respiratory virus. (A cold or the flu may not pose as many potential health risks as COVID, but being sick is still not fun!)

It’s a good idea to wear a mask when you’re in a crowded environment (especially indoors), choose well-ventilated or outdoor spaces for group hangouts, and test for COVID if you have cold or flu-like symptoms, Dr. Al-Aly says. If you do get infected, talk to your doctor about whether your personal risk of a severe case is enough to qualify for a Paxlovid prescription (which you need to take within the first five days of symptoms for it to be effective).

The other important thing you should do is get the updated COVID vaccine (the 2024-2025 formula was recently approved and released). Unlike getting reinfected, the vaccine triggers “a very targeted immune response…because it’s [made with] a specific tiny part of the virus,” Dr. Melamed says. Meaning, you get the immune benefit of a little exposure without the potential of your whole system going haywire. Getting the current shot also ensures you restore any protection that has waned since you received a prior jab and that you have an effective shield against the dominant circulating strains. Plus, research shows that being vaccinated doesn’t just lower your chances of catching the virus; it also reduces your risk of having a severe case or winding up with long COVID if you do get it.

So, too, can the deceivingly simple act of keeping up with healthy habits—like exercising regularly, eating nutritious foods, and clocking quality sleep. Maintaining this kind of lifestyle can help you stave off other health issues that could increase your risk of harm from COVID, Harlan Krumholz, PhD, a cardiologist at Yale University and founder of the Yale Center for Outcomes Research and Evaluation (CORE), tells SELF. “Given that we will be repetitively exposed to the virus, the best investments we can make are in our baseline health,” he says.

Doing any (or all!) of the above is a big act of compassion for yourself, the people you love, and your greater community. “For the average person, it’s like, ‘Oh, COVID is gone,’ but they’re just not seeing the impact,” Dr. Al-Aly says, noting the invisibility of long COVID symptoms like disorienting brain fog and crushing fatigue. The truth is, in plenty of people, just one more infection could be the difference between living their best life and facing a devastating chronic condition.

[cressidagrey]

The Ties that Bind - Chapter 8

Summary: 

Shadowsingers were made, not born. Made out of trauma and loneliness and desperation.

So when Cilla and Azriel meet and their shadows entwine, they both meet the only other person that could understand these particular childhood scars.

The last thing Azriel had ever expected from his mate, however, was for her to have a surprising connection to his brother.

Warnings: 

This is nearly 5k. I have no idea where it came from.

(super pretty dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

She shared his blood. Of all the people in the world, Cilla was the one who shared his blood. He had never thought that blood made a family. He had two brothers and he was related by blood to neither.

Cassian didn't know how he was supposed to feel about it. But then...he didn't know how he was supposed to feel about any of this.

He had never attached much significance to the notion of blood ties. After all, his own sense of family was built upon loyalty and trust, not shared ancestry. Yet, the knowledge that he was a father, especially to an illegitimate child...to a bastard...that stirred something within him that he couldn't ignore.

Of all the things he always promised himself he wouldn't do...he had done it. He had fathered a bastard. The one thing, the one thing he had held above all else on the scales of things he wasn't willing to do. He had never wanted to put a child through what he had gone through.

But it had happened now...Well, nearly 20 years ago. And it left him...sinking. How was he supposed to be a father to a girl he only just learned existed?

Cassian felt his breathing hitch as the enormity of it all hit him. He had a daughter, a living, breathing, person who shared his blood flowing through her veins. It was...overwhelming. Overwhelming, but oddly, not entirely unwelcome. There was a part of him that was starting to feel a sort of...pride. Excitement, even? It was buried deep down, but there nonetheless.

"You're brooding. Again," his mate said drily as she entered the room. His head snapped to watch Nesta make her way to where he sat in the window seat, curling up across from him, watching him with shrewdly intelligent grey eyes. "What are you thinking about?"

At her question, he let out a dry, humourless chuckle. "Just doing some...brooding," he replied, his tone filled with a mixture of sarcasm and resignation. He ran a hand through his messy hair. 

He should have known about Cilla's existence. If he had known...then all of this...would have never happened to him. He would have taken care of his daughter damnit. She would have never spent decades locked into an attic...she would have never been treated as abhorrently as she had.

A surge of anger welled up inside him at the thought of his daughter's suffering. If only he had known...he could have done something. He

He could have made a difference

His hands clenched into fists as the anger and frustration coursed through him. "If I had known," he began, his voice a low rumble, "I could have...done something. Protected her."

"But you didn't know," Nesta said, her voice even. He didn't think that she didn't feel anything about it...but she was seeing it all so...so calmly.

"Why aren't you angry?" he demanded.

"If you believe it or not I have been very much aware that you had a life before me. Why should I get angry at a girl who was born before we even met each other?" Nesta said with a snort. "Besides...I think she had...enough things in her life that were horrible, don't you agree?"

Cassian blinked at her response, taken aback by her calm logic. It was so typical of her, to see through the emotional fog to the heart of the matter. He let out a sigh, leaning back against the window frame. "You're right," he admitted reluctantly. "I...I just...wish I had known. I could have been there for her...protected her from all the horrors she's been through."

"You weren't there. Through no fault of your own," Nesta said quietly. "But you are there now. And you have time, Cassian. You can fix this...Just...don't expect her to fall around your neck and be delighted with you immediately. I don't think Cilla even knows what it means to be part of a family."

His heart ached at Nesta's words. She was right, of course. His daughter had spent most of her life isolated and neglected. It was unrealistic to expect her to immediately trust and accept him simply because he was her father.

"I know," he muttered, his jaw clenching. "I know I can't expect her to just...trust me immediately. I just...I don't know how to be a father, Nes."

"Well, Rhysand didn't know it either, and he seems to be an alright job," Nesta said drily. "Don't tell him I said that, by the way."

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at her comment. "Your secret's safe with me," he assured her, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Despite the situation, it was comforting to know that he could always count on Nesta's dry wit and unflappability.

"But...you're right," he continued after a moment. "If Rhys can do it, so can I...right?"

"Besides, you do have a secret weapon," Nesta agreed. "She's mated to Azriel. She's probably willing to meet you, just because of what you mean to Az. It's not...the perfect position to be in, but it's a start."

"You're mercenary," he told her with a sigh.

Cassian shook his head, a hint of amusement flickering in his expression. "You're right, I can always use that as leverage," he said dryly. "But that's not exactly the ideal start now, is it?" He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It's a start nonetheless," Nesta said easily. "Why don't you go over to Azriel's house tomorrow...maybe bring some pastries...see if Cilla is willing to see you for lunch."

Cassian let out a wry chuckle. "You make it all sound so simple," he said with a hint of sarcasm. "Just pop over, bring some pastries, and have a chat over lunch." He ran a hand through his hair, still feeling agitated."It's not that easy, Nes," he sighed. "We don't even know if she'll want to talk to me. And even if she does...what the hell do I even say? 'Hey, sorry I wasn't there all your life, I also can't remember your mother, but I am willing to try?' I bet she'll take that well."

"Give her a chance," Nesta insisted. "It can't get much worse, can it?"

Cassian let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're right," he conceded. "I guess it can't get much worse. Alright, I'll go over there tomorrow."

And he did. He brought pastries, he made his way to the mountains, where Azriel kept his little cabin...and then he could just stare as he watched his daughter soar through the air. Granted...it wasn't really soaring. It was more of an excited flapping off her wings just a few meters over the ground, with Azriel hovering protectively nearby...but she was definitely airborne, her laughter filling the skies. Cassian had never heard a more beautiful sound.

Cassian found himself rooted in place, mesmerised by the sight of his daughter flying, her wings unfurled in the air. 

When Cilla finally touched down, her laughter fading into a breathless gasp, Cassian took a step forward. Azriel's gaze flicked towards him, a subtle warning in his eyes. Cassian could sense the tension and protectiveness in his brother's stance, and he couldn't really blame him. Cassian was a stranger to her after all. And she was Azriel's mate.

An even more subtle hand movement...telling Cassian to wait as he watched Azriel talk to Cilla, her hands moving, shadows clinging onto them as she waved them around to illustrate a point...and then grasp his brother's neck and pull him down to kiss her.

Really? He didn't need to see that...he really didn't need to see that...even when his daughter obviously was quite happy with it.

The kiss ended. "Cassian is at the ward boundary," Azriel said, his voice quiet but if Cassian tried he could still hear him. "Do you want to see him?"

Cilla glanced nervously in the direction of the wards and Cassian, her wings tucked tightly against her back. Seeing her expression, Azriel rested a hand on her shoulder, leaning down to mutter something in her ear. Cassian strained to hear, but he could only make out a few words..."Your choice"....and...he was pretty sure he heard something about "pastries"...

He looked down to find one of Azriel's shadows investigating the bag, and he watched with some amusement as the curious little shadow darted in and out of the bag.

Cassian couldn't help but let out a small chuckle at the sight. Even Azriel’s shadows were curious about the pastries he had brought.

"Just him," Cilla asked, her voice shaky.

"Just him," Azriel promised. "Your choice. Your pace. If you need more time tell me."

Cilla nodded, her hands twisting in front of her. Cassian could almost read her thoughts, the nervous energy she was exerting. Azriel placed a comforting hand on her shoulder again. "Just breathe," he advised. "You get to set the pace. Just you and him. I'll be right here, okay?"

Cilla nodded, her wings twitching slightly. "Okay," she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper. Cassian could see her gathering her courage. Azriel gave her shoulder one more squeeze before stepping back, his presence a reassuring presence even from a distance. 

Cassian watched as Cilla took a deep breath, steeling herself before turning to face him. Her expression was a mix of hesitation and trepidation.  Azriel had let down the wards around the place...or maybe just made them thin enough that Cassian could easily step through.

As he stepped forward, Cilla started, her wings instinctively flared just a bit. Her eyes widened as she took him in fully, and Cassian could almost see the resemblance between them…again. The hair…the shape of her face…her brows…her ears were pointy, much different than the usual rounded Illyrian ones…

And she stood there…silently. 

Everything about his daughter seemed to be silent. Like she was scared to make too much noise. 

Cassian paused a few steps away from her, holding out the pastries in an offering. "I...brought pastries," he said gruffly, his voice sounding almost awkward. He cursed himself mentally...he wasn't usually so bloody awkward...but then again, he wasn't usually meeting his bastard child for the...second time, now was he?

And the first time...she had trembled her way through the whole meeting, staring at him wide-eyed, the shadows dancing around her, clearly agitated, clearly trying to offer her comfort and failing horribly.

Yeah...that first time had been...something. Cilla had been terrified, trembling and wide-eyed, and the shadows had been a nervous, agitated mess around her.

He'd done his best to be gentle, reassuring her as much as he could. And now...he was here again, hoping that this time he would manage not to scare her.

Cassian didn't have much experience in dealing with...easily frightened people. He was used to dealing with hardened soldiers, warriors, and people who could spar, fight, and handle themselves.

Cilla was...different. Everything seemed to scare her, and he felt woefully out of his depth.

Cilla's eyes flicked between him and the pastries he was holding out. Her hands fidgeted at her sides, and the shadows around her shifted and fluttered, agitated by her nervousness.

After a moment, she reached out with trembling fingers, gently taking the packaged pastries from him. She looked down at the pastries, then back up at him, unsure what to do next.

Cassian silently observed her, waiting for her to lead the interaction. He had come prepared with pastries and conversation starters, but he knew that pushing her too quickly would only make it worse. So he waited, watching her closely as she held the pastries, her eyes flickering up to meet his and then darting away.

"How about we go inside?" Azriel suggested, for once the voice of reason. Cilla swallowed but nodded.

Cassian was grateful for his intervention. Even at a distance, Azriel probably realised that neither of them was very good at this. And Cilla grasped Azriel’s hand as soon as he was near enough, fitting herself against his side, half hiding against him…clearly pulling comfort from her mate. 

He followed her and Azriel, remaining a few steps behind, his eyes taking in the surroundings, silently making note of the little things that spoke of Azriel's presence in the house…a warm and cosy little cabin.

Cilla seated herself at the table nervously as Azriel lit the fireplace. The faint glow of the fire cast dancing shadows across the room, and the crackling of firewood provided a soothing background noise. Cassian sat down across from her, the pastries now resting on the table between them.

They sat there in silence for a moment, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire

Cilla's eyes darted down to the pastries, her fingers tracing the paper wrapping of the sweets. She seemed lost in thought, her expression a mixture of fear and curiosity."The pastries are blueberry," he offered softly, hoping to break the silence.

His words seemed to do the trick, as Cilla's gaze flicked up to him, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment before darting away again. "I like blueberry" she murmured, almost to herself.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of relief at her response. It was a small, but hopeful sign that perhaps he wouldn't mess this up completely. "One of my favourites, too," he said, hoping to keep the conversation going.

He'd planned several conversation topics, but they all felt wrong now. Like they would be too forced or too direct.

"How...How did the flying lesson go?" he asked, hoping that that would be...something safe to ask her. A small smile twitched on her face.

When he asked about her flying lesson, a small smile played at the corner of her lips. "It went good," she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her wings shifted at her back, as if itching to take flight.

"I...I've never felt so...free before" she added after a moment.

"That's good," he agreed quietly. "And...everything else?" he asked...delicately, resulting in Azriel snorting as he finished tending to the fire.

"Cassian wants to know if I am treating you well," he told Cilla, her smile widening. 

"He's a good mate," Cilla answered, sticking her chin out like she was daring Cassian to disagree.

Cassian chuckled at Azriel's description and Cilla's fierce defence of him. "I'm glad to hear it," he managed to say, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

He couldn't deny it, he was relieved to know that Cilla seemed happy, well cared for, and clearly in love with Azriel. He just hoped...she wouldn't hate him for all the time they'd missed together.

Her fingers started picking at the paper of the pastries, shredding the thin wrapping as if she was trying to give her fidgeting something to do.

Cassian cursed silently, noticing her defensive reaction. He had hoped that he wouldn't scare her off, but he could clearly see the tension in her body, the way her wings trembled just a bit as she retreated into herself.

He didn't want her to feel like he was trying to force anything on her or make up for lost time in one conversation. But he was starting to realise just how hard this would be.

"I..." he began, but the words died in his throat. He wanted to reassure her, to tell her that he wasn't trying to pressure her, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, he just sat there, silent and unsure, watching as she continued to pick at the wrapping of the pastries.

The silence stretched on, becoming almost unbearable. He cursed internally, realising that he was completely out of his depths. This was not something he knew how to handle.

"Cilla," he began, trying a different approach. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, hoping to make himself appear less intimidating. "I just...I want you to know that I'm not trying to force anything on you."

He paused, waiting for any reaction from her, but her gaze remained fixed on the pastries, her fingers picking at the shredded paper.

He took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. "I know I wasn't there for you...all those years. And...and I can't change that. And I don't expect you to forgive me for it, either."

He waited for a response, a sign that she was even listening to him. But her wings remained tightly folded around her, her head still bowed. He could see the tension in her shoulders, and he hated that he was the one causing it.

But he forced himself to continue because he needed to say this. "I just want...I want you to know that...I'm here now."

The words hung in the air like a heavyweight. He watched as Cilla's wings seemed to shiver slightly, her shoulders hunching even more. But he refused to give up, even if the hope of getting through to her was starting to slip away.

"And I don't want anything in return," he went on. "I don't...expect anything from you. I just..." he trailed off, struggling to find the right words. "I just want to get to know my...daughter."

The silence settled again, and the only sounds were the crackling fire and the soft flutter of the shadows. Cassian could see Azriel's eyes watching them both from across the room, probably silently wondering if he should step in. But neither of them had any idea what to do here.

Cilla, on the other hand, was still hunched over the pastries, her wings drawn so tightly around her that she resembled a quaking leaf caught in the wind.

What could he say to a daughter he had never met? To a child, he had missed out on so much of her life?

It was Azriel who suddenly spoke up, his voice breaking the tense silence. "Why don't you try one of the pastries, Cilla?" he suggested gently. His voice was soft, soothing, like a caress. Cilla's head jerked up at the sound of his voice, her wings twitching. "They're blueberry," he continued, shifting a bit closer from his position at the fireplace. “You said you like blueberry, right?” Cilla's eyes flickered towards the pastries and the mention of them being blueberry, her fingers ceasing their picking. She nodded silently, her body still visibly tense. 

"They're probably delicious," Azriel prodded, a hint of a smile in his voice. "You should try one." As if to encourage her, he picked up one of the sweets himself, holding it out to her.

Cilla's eyes flickered between the pastry and Azriel's face, clearly torn. The tension in her body didn't relent, but she slowly extended a trembling hand to take the pastry.

"There you go," Azriel murmured, placing the pastry in her palm. He carefully let go and backed off slightly, giving her space while still keeping a watchful eye.

Cilla held the pastry gingerly, turning it over in her palm, inspecting it as if it was some rare treasure. She didn't seem very hungry, Cassian noted with a pang.

It was then that Cassian realised just how thin she was. He could see the faint outline of her bones under the loose shirt she was wearing, the way her collarbone jutted out under her skin. She looked...delicate. Fragile. As if a strong wind could knock her down.

Cassian's stomach twisted with a mixture of guilt and concern. 

It felt like an eternity before she actually put the pastry in her mouth, taking a tentative and small bite. Cassian couldn't even find it in himself to feel relieved; her swallowing just made him more concerned.

Did she even enjoy it? Or was she just forcing herself to eat?

To his surprise, Cilla took another bite, her eyes fluttering closed as if savouring the taste. A small moan escaped her lips, and he could almost see the tension draining from her body as she relaxed a bit.

"Is it good?" Azriel asked a smile in his voice. Cilla's eyes opened, a flicker of surprise in them as if she had forgotten that Azriel was even there. She swallowed her bite, then nodded quietly.

Cassian couldn't help but feel a pang of...affection, and relief, at seeing this small sign of her enjoying something.

Azriel's smile widened, the shadows around him seeming to react, shifting and dancing as he moved closer to sit beside Cilla. He placed a gentle hand on her back, and she tensed momentarily but relaxed almost immediately.

Cassian could see the way she leaned slightly into Azriel's touch, seeking comfort and reassurance from his presence.

She took another bite of the pastry, her eyes fluttering closed again. Cassian could see how the tension seemed to seep out of her body, replaced slowly by calm.

He stayed silent, not wanting to disrupt the moment between the two, and simply watched as Cilla slowly started to relax, her wings losing their tension as she leaned into Azriel.

Azriel murmured something to her, his voice too low for Cassian to make out the words, a gentle reassurance, his hand gently rubbing her back. Cassian could see the shadows shifting around them, almost acting like a shield, wrapping around them like a protective coat.

He felt a pang of envy at the sight, wishing that he could be the one soothing Cilla, the one offering her comfort.

"Thank you," she whispered quietly. He hadn't expected that.

Cassian cleared his throat. "You're very welcome," he told her. Cilla looked up from the pastry, her eyes meeting his for a brief moment, a flicker of something...appreciation, perhaps, in them before she looked down again.

He wrecked his brain trying to come up with another thing to say, his eyes suddenly caught on the children's book that was laid on the table.

"Did you read that?" he asked her quietly. She nodded, hesitation bleeding out of every pore.

"Azriel's shadows taught me how," she said, her voice shaking.

"They were quicker than I was," Azriel quipped.

Azriel's comment made Cilla's lips twitch into a small, shaky smile. Cassian found himself smiling faintly as well, almost touched at the idea of her learning with the help of Azriel's shadows.

His eyes, however, caught on to something else.

"They...taught you?" he asked, curiosity piqued.

He knew that the shadows that surrounded Azriel were...sentient, to a degree. But they usually kept to themselves and rarely interacted with others. So the fact that they had helped Azriel teach Cilla how to read... It was interesting, and a bit worrying.

"They said I could hear them because I was Azriel's mate," Cilla said and Azriel pulled in a sharp breath, that little tidbit of information was news to him too.

Oh well. She was a shadowsinger herself. There were definitely weirder things that happened. It was harmless. If it brought her some form of comfort...

Who knew what it meant that two shadowsingers had mated...who knew what that meant. one shadowsinger was rare, practically mythical...two? That was unheard of.

Cassian's mind raced with questions and speculations. Two shadowsingers mating... It was unheard of. The Illyrian lore had countless stories about Shadowsingers, but none about mated ones.

And what kind of powers did Cilla have, as the daughter of an Illyrian and a High Fae? What was even possible with that kind of pairing? The one example he had was Rhys...but Rhys was also High Lord...and with that came a whole different level of power.

And there was something else that he worried about... namely that Azriel had been forced into his job because of his innate abilities...and Cilla...she had the same abilities. He didn't think that Rhysand was going to be...quite as violent as his father had been...but it was very clear that Cilla had...abilities that would make her a prize in any court.

At least she had Azriel as her mate, who would gleefully slaughter anybody who thought that they should get to lay a hand on Cilla. He could see the way Azriel's eyes darkened at the mention of Cilla's abilities, the way the shadows around him shifted restlessly, as if ready to strike.

But even with Azriel's protection, there was no question that Cilla would be a...prime target for many. And Cassian hated that thought more than he'd ever imagined.

"Have you...thought about what...you would like to do? As a job?" he asked her, hating the way his voice was sounding. Like that mattered right now.

Cilla's eyes flicked up at Cassian's question, surprised at the topic. Her wings shuffled behind her, twitching as if considering his question.

"I...I used to work in a tannery" she admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian could see the uncertainty in her eyes, that fear of the unknown. She had been trapped in a cage for most of her life...she had never had to think about a career.

"Did you like it?" he asked her, and she shrugged.

"It helped me survive," she said blankly. "I...it was work. It paid."

Her words made him wince slightly. She hadn't enjoyed it, that much he could tell. Cassian had to remind himself to keep his anger at bay, that this was not the time to start raging about her past.

He took a slow, measured breath. "I see," he said carefully, waiting to see if she would say more.

"I like books," she said suddenly. "I can't read...well...or fast. But I like them."

Cassian's heart ached at her words. She liked books, but she didn't know how to read...another thing that had been taken from her far too soon. He desperately wanted to reach out, to brush away the strands of hair that had fallen into her face, but he held himself back.

"That's...that's nice," he said carefully, trying to keep his voice steady.

"There is a library in the House of Wind, where Cassian lives," Azriel said quietly. "Hundreds and Thousands of books. The priestesses that work there always need help."

But it was...it would be such a good fit for her. The priestesses were traumatised in a myriad of ways and if anybody could understand what had happened to Cilla that wasn't Azriel...the priestesses probably were the ones to do it. It was...genius actually.

The priestesses at the House of Wind had a deep understanding of trauma and pain, having experienced it themselves. They had helped Nesta, and they could help Cilla, too, in ways that neither he nor Azriel could.

It was a logical solution, and the more he thought about it, the more he was starting to like it.

"We could go to visit if you wanted to," Azriel offered.

Cilla hesitated, her wings fidgeting anxiously behind her. She glanced at Azriel, then at Cassian, as if seeking reassurance.

Cassian tried to school his expression into one of comfort and warmth, though it was hard to keep the anger at her former life out of his eyes.

Finally, she nodded silently, her wings fluttering slightly in what looked like nervousness.

"I would like that."

Cilla's small voice, the words that she had managed to say, made Cassian's heart both lighter and heavier at the same time. Lighter because she was slowly opening up, communicating, talking, and heavy because he could almost taste the fear in her voice.

It was a start. Something. And he cradled it close to his heart.

[nikkotinamide]

my observations and take on some nuances not conveyed in translation

my drawn out summary part 2!

*Disclaimer: I'm not critiquing existing translations, I think the translators have done a phenomenal job! Just wanted to add my 2 cents worth.

Part 1

Language Use in Kiseki

Ep 4 Cont

More tears. This scene hurts so bad. Ai Di actually says "Blind or what? Having followed him for so long, it's not as though unaware of whom he likes..." It's difficult to translate these lines because there are no first person pronouns used. On one hand, it's Ai Di scolding himself for holding on to his unrequited feelings for Chen Yi (seen in the translation above). On the other hand, he is also scolding Chen Yi for the same thing with regards to CDY.

Ep 5

Time for some comedy to soothe the angst. Our boy really went to school punning and naming himself Edison (and I think the intent was with Thomas Edison in mind lmao).

Ep 8

There's so much we don't know about Ai Di. Here Chen Yi actually asks if Ai Di wants to return to school. Coupled with how Ai Di deflected and told him to stop joking around, and how he told Zong Yi he doesn't need to attend school because he's a genius, it suggests that Ai Di has some regrets about not having the normal life peers his age lead.

Ep 9 💔

This was the most heartbreaking scene imo. Here Ai Di says "你再怎么喜欢他，你再怎么努力，他看的永远不会是你。" - "No matter how much you like him, no matter how hard you try, the one he looks at will forever not be you." While it's clear it's directed at Chen Yi, to a degree it's also Ai Di directing it at himself.

He goes on to say "会看着你的他妈只有我。" 他妈 is a vulgarity (essentially meant to insult someone's mother) which the subtitles and translation have censored, and this line translates into "The only fucking person who will look at you is me."

Let's make it angstier. Ai Di says "只有我，从小看到大。我蠢，我猪。", which has been translated into "Only I, for all my life...I'm such a stupid fool". The translation is fine but it doesn't reflect just how vulnerable Ai Di was in this moment, as though he heart was breaking right alongside Chen Yi’s. My translation would be "Only I, since I was young till now when I am old, have been looking at you. I'm naive. I'm foolish."

This is the line that has made me tear every single rewatch. Ai Di isn't stupid but he is aware that he is being foolish, chasing so desperately all his life after someone who doesn't see him as anything more than a brother .

Ai Di regrets and he says "这件事我帮你扛，抵昨天晚上的事情行吧。我说行就行。" which has been translated into "I'll take the blame for you to make up for what I did to you last night. It's a deal." I felt it was more of a resigned question Ai Di poses, "I'll carry the blame for you, to make up for yesterday night's affair, alright? If I say that's fine, then it's fine."

I was surprised to see this! Here, because Ai Di will not follow willingly, Chen Yi picks him up, and he purposely steps over the pot of burning coal on Ai Di's behalf. I'm not too sure if it's a Chinese thing or religion thing, but in my home country, some Chinese (esp the older folks) say that upon returning home after incarceration, one has to step over burning coal to wash away the bad luck. Very neat that they included this custom!

The same thing Ai Di tells Zong Yi not to say "再见" - see you again; they wouldn’t want to see prison again (which has been translated into goodbye).

This is why people think ChenAi switch, also courtesy of Hsu Kai who pointed this line out. Ai Di says "做回来就不欠啦" which translates into "Do it back and I'll no longer owe you". (more context in comments)

Ep 10

Matt Lee's character who was Ai Di's friend at the bar before jail mentions that Ai Di even dyed his hair blonde upon going overseas to further his education. Meaning, Ai Di's friends were told that he was schooling overseas when he was actually in prison 😢

Ai Di tells Chen Yi "应该多培养一些人在你旁边了，被开枪的时候，才有人帮你垫背" which translates into "You should cultivate relationships so more people will be by your side, so that when the gun is fired, there will be someone to take the bullet for you". Ai Di's done it once, he doesn't want to do it again. And Chen Yi smiles weakly after Ai Di says this because Ai Di just confirmed that he went to jail in Chen Yi's stead.

Ep 11

Like Xiao Jie says, Chen Yi really sucks at wooing someone, so much so that even Xiao Jie is better. On receiving the signature, Ai Di asks if Chen Yi thinks he is BTS (bangtan) and that he can sell his autograph 😂

Ep 12

Chen Yi says "我是在你离开之后，我才发现自己真正喜欢的是你" which has been translated into "It's true I realised you are the one with whom I'm in love while you were gone." I would prefer if it had been "It was only after you left that I realised the one whom I actually love is you". Keyword 真正 - really/actually.

Ai Di uses more heart-rending words. Instead of "Don't make me your rebound just because you can't get the one you love", it would be better translated as "Don't randomly use anybody as a substitute just because you couldn't have the person you love."

Cake scene translations

The most heartbreaking line of this scene. 再 - again. Ai Di actually says "Never again will I step aside for anyone." Implicitly, he was previously going to give up on Chen Yi for CDY.

ok this was a longass post but I wanted to keep most of the angst here