#this was the passage the gc thought was funny

[separatist-apologist]

May I humbly request an emotional support snippet of one of your wips? Apologies for the presumption, I love how your writing sweeps me away and it’s been an awful (feeling nauseous and wanting to cry because of stress) work day, and it isn’t going to be any better for at least a week. 😭

How humbling to hear your writing makes someone feel better 🥺. I wish I knew what you liked. I hope this is good!

"You can read me like a book. Should I take you upstairs or would you like if I just had my way with you right here in the hall?”

Arina took a reflexive step backward. “On the floor seems like your style,” she lied. Eris seemed like the kind of man who didn’t make noise during sex. In fact, as she thought about it—simply to make fun of him, of course—she pictured him as the kind of man who thanked a woman afterward for a satisfactory time before calling her an uber and forgetting the whole thing ever happened. Sex was likely like brushing his teeth or showering for him. Something he did because he needed to, but not out of any sense of enjoyment.

Stop thinking about sex with Eris Vanserra.

Eris’s eyes flickered to the floor as if he were considering it. “Tempting,” he said in a tone that made it impossible to determine if he was being serious or not. “And Lucien?”

“Seems weird, but you’re not my brothers—”

“Where is he?” Eris interrupted, cheeks flaming all over again. “This isn’t a joke, Arina.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Arina stared him down. “Why don’t you let him have a good time for onc—”

“Our father is dead.”

Oh.

“Oh,” she breathed. “I…should I say sorry? Or congratulations?” she asked, the liquor making her tongue looser than he was. Eris’s eyes widened as though he couldn’t believe what she’d said.

Scrambling, Arina added, “It’s just, he was such a miserable bastard from the stories and I…sorry. I’m sorry. I—I’ll get him.”

Eris didn’t move as Arina turned, feeling like the biggest asshole on the planet. Who congratulated a person on their dead dad? She’d need to get black out drunk to forget she’d done that, or else she’d ruminate on it until she died.

Arina found Lucien in the backyard, leaned up against their rotting, wooden fence while he watched Elain play a rather vicious looking game of badminton.

“Your brother is here,” Arina informed him as Lucien grinned at her. That smile immediately drooped.

“He can’t take a fucking hint,” Lucien grumbled, pulling out his phone. “Tell him to get fucked.”

“I already congratulated him on your dead dad,” Arina admitted, earning a booming laugh from Lucien.

“Oh, I’ll bet he loved that,” Lucien said.

“He looks pissed,” Arina admitted glumly. “I took it too far.”

Dragging his eyes off Elain, Lucien pulled his phone out of his pocket to show a photoshopped meme sent by his brother that featured what she assumed was their fathers head slapped atop the Wicked Witch of the West.

He’s dead, read the message beneath, complete with the celebration emojis.

“Just go talk to him,” Arina said, shoving Lucien toward the house. “If you’re that interested in Elain, make her work for it a little.”

Lucien turned with interest, only to be shoved again. “What does that mean?”

“You’re making it too easy for her and you’re gonna end up as a back-up booty call. Go live your life and let her see you don’t need her so she can want you.”

“That doesn’t work,” Lucien said skeptically, though he slowed to match pace with Arina. “Does it?”

She had no idea, honestly. She’d met Elain already a year into her relationship with Graysen, and this was the first time she’d ever seen her friend single. Lucien was absurdly handsome, too, but in a way that made you want to introduce him to your mom and buy a house to raise children in. Lucien looked like he yearned for the PTO.

Lucien looked like the kind of man who raised his children and the guy Elain was currently dragging up to her bedroom each night looked like he didn’t know who his dad was.