#where I don’t have these feelings in real life so I just continually immerse myself in them through fiction but all it does

[beholdthesword]

Here’s the thing

I want to reread tlt but nona fucked me up so bad and something about these books HURTS and as much as I want to reread them now I also feel like I want to reread them in a like self harming way??? Like I know I have had very strong emotional reactions to them before and so part of me wants to read them again to feel that even though it’s not good for me and actually may just be intensifying feelings I refuse to face in real life

but then what if it doesn’t. What if I read them again and it doesn’t hurt as bad. What do I do then. Is that good? Of course it is but I fear it won’t feel like that. I fear that might almost be worse because then what do I do with all these feelings still locked inside me? What then?

[pedrostylez]

500 Followers Reading Recommendation List

Hi there! Happy Saturday!

I just wanted to say thank you to the 500 people that are following me. I started this account back in March/April to have fun, start writing again (I was in the thick of it with One Direction fanfiction from 2012-2017 and took a massive break from that... Iykyk) and to make friends. I’ve connected with so many of you, and I love seeing us all thirsting on the feed, and just being a community? Idk if that’s cheesy, but there are plenty of things that could be improved with how this fanbase operates but this is my favorite part.

I felt like the best way to celebrate and to have fun is to bring attention to other people’s writing that I enjoy. Frothing at the mouth, or maybe just kicking my feet, whatever. I’ve been stockpiling these since the beginning (mainly so I can keep track because I will forget what I’m reading through and I don’t want to miss anything) and want to just highlight as many people as I can. 

I hope you all can give these guys some love too. If any of these are not your cup of tea and you want to make comments or say something to one of these authors I highly encourage you to read this announcement I made a while ago. I stand by this and encourage others to do the same.

I tried to not repeat an author with a character, but I will say that each of these lovely people writes for multiple characters (not always in the Pedro character universe either) and I have and continue to read from their whole masterlist. 

This is in no way the whole ongoing list that I keep for myself to find something that I enjoy, and I am positive I have missed some amazing people. I encourage everyone to reblog and interact with authors as you find things you like, “popular” or not, so as to keep us all as what I described above-a community.

Most of these recommendations are smut, which is indicated with *. If there is no *, it either has none or it does not at the time of posting this. Proceed with caution. 🙂

(If I get anyone’s name or pronouns wrong, please let me know so I can fix it. I tried to do my due diligence, however, I am prone to mistype so a quick message will get it changed!)

Joel Miller

@softlyspector-Honeyed

Becca’s story Honeyed is everything my fluffy heart desires. It is so soft, and I can feel my heart ache when I read it (I mean this in a good way and idk how else to describe it.) Ellie and Sarah’s dynamic is also so interesting, and I love how she writes the different connections between them all. Becca’s descriptions and ability to immerse you into the story is top notch. 

@jrrmint- Dad’s Best Friend (Series)*

JJ’s series absolutely destroyed me, in the best way possible. The way he expresses his feelings is so very Joel, but also so very “every man I’ve ever interacted with”, and the way he is so protective of reader…oh my lord. Just brilliant. JJ is here to kill it, every fucking time. 

@darkroastjoel- A Safe Haven (series)*

Vee is extremely talented, even when she thinks otherwise. (Vee I love you so much omg). So much effort and care is put into what she writes, and I am always sitting at the edge of my seat. A Safe Haven is angsty, makes my heart flutter, and Joel is portrayed so well. Hiding a relationship while having issues in Peach’s home to help the community? Real-life anxiety. Vee’s Ellie is also one of my favorites and gives comedic relief when necessary (but also a wakeup call to Peach a lot of the time). Love love love.

@hier--soir-Back to Texas

Jessie you probably thought I was going to put your professor joel series here, and while that is so fucking good (screeching into a pillow so my husband doesn’t hear, good), this specific piece you wrote? Emotional damage. Tears, in my eyes, sniffling and trying to keep it together. It really just calls upon my daddy issues to read Joel so distraught and loving and anxious about visiting his home where he last saw Sarah. Ugh. Love you. 

@joelscruff- One Thing I’m Missing (series)*

Cat’s ability to suck you into the world she has created is insane. I highly recommend all of the things she writes, but some sweetness mixed with horniness always makes me want to just pass away. Accidentally falling asleep together? And now you BOTH can’t stop? Bye. So deliciously heart-wrenching. 

@atinylittlepain-Hungry Hearts (Series) *

Dear god this series has me crying, covering my face in embarrassment, drooling, and so much more. Summer love wrapped up with childhood crushes and bouncing back and forth between past and present? Thinking you know what’s best for the person you love and hurting them in the process? The flow of how Ginny writes keeps me on the hook no matter what she’s writing, and this is no different. I am absolutely able to lose myself in her writing and just be fully immersed, and I so so SO appreciate it.

@dev1lm4n-Porn Star Joel (series)*

Ann I swear to you, you’re the reason I am now obsessed with this “porn star” trope, specifically for Joel Miller. Joel having a secretive side job to make sure he keeps his family above water, but suddenly not able to think about anything other than reader, an exchange student living in his house? So fucking good. Sink your teeth in and just indulge. 

Frankie Morales

@pedropascalsx- Relief*

This had my gut in knots reading it. I have such a soft spot for Frankie as a character, and I remember the first time I read through this one-shot I gasped out loud at how mean you had written him. (This is a good thing, trust me). The smut is top shelf, mesmerizing.  Cristina has some of the best writing around with detail that is chef’s kiss. 

@peterhollandkait-Everthing I Know Leads Me Back to You

This is another series that I had first read when I was thinking about restarting my page, and Kait does not disappoint. The angst and heartbreak for sweet baby Frankie who is having issues is out of this world.

@javiscigarette-Just Focus on My Love*

Cami has this way about how she writes that I just consume so quickly and I don’t think I can ever stop. This one-shot called to me and calls me out at the same time for how often I will just play video games for hours. And the idea of Frankie? Coming to try and distract me? Yes please.

Javier Peña

@pascalsbby-Little Bunny*

Man, I just love Javier Peña. Whether he’s snarky and is a slut or is secretly really sweet. This one doesn’t disappoint either, with Kat having the ability to just get Javier to bring you home and on your knees…

@lokischocolatefountain -Salvation*

Married Javi and his struggles is the most insane way to get me hooked on him, but lokischocolatefountain did that. They have a whole “married javi” section of their masterlist that I find myself coming back to often!

@devilmademewriteit-Salvatore (series)*

When I was first reapproaching tumblr as a platform to write on, I came across Em’s writing. I was in the middle of watching Narcos, and it called out to me like a siren song, and I wasn’t able to stop reading it. I love a sassy Javi who is really just basically in love with you and trying to hide it, mixed in with some amazing smut. Absolutely brilliant Em!

@swiftispunk- Let Me and Use Me*

Hannah’s ability to call upon my niche needs at the moment freaks me out sometimes, because giiiirrrlllll. When I first read Let Me and the follow up Use Me, I melted into a puddle and had to be mopped up like snow being kicked off boots next to a wood stove. I will never ever EVER be over Javi P, and this two parter is reread OF-TEN. The idea that a man can read me so well, and just knows what I need? Yes please. 

Din Dijarin

@frannyzooey-Take Me To Church (Series) *

Kelli has an extensive masterlist that I have gone through a couple times (or more, ahem). Her Take Me to Church series is what made me interested in Din as a character, since I had never really watched the Star Wars saga. I have a soft spot for western AU’s that can’t be helped, so that just pushed me along as well. Kelli’s writing is always so fucking satisfying-good soup.  

@whatsnewalycat- Passenger (series) 

Aly has quite a few series that I am reading constantly. Again, never really had been interested in the Star Wars series (sue me, people) but her portrayal of Din as a truck driver and bounty hunter is so heavenly. I am typically under the covers with all the lights off reading her stuff because I get so excited and so honed in that I haven’t realized I’ve basically burrowed into my bed. 

@no-droids- Rough Day (series) *

Originally found on AO3, and I sure do loveeeeeeeee it. The wait is worth it, and the smut is spot on. I love the character growth that is shown in this series, and while I haven’t ever spoken with no-droids, I know they are insanely talented. An amazing read. 

Agent Whiskey/Jack Daniels

@fuckyeahdindjarin-Palomino (series) *

Cee doesn’t need a whole introduction but IMMA GIVE HER ONE. The amount of effort, and time and love she puts into her writing is shown when you’re reading on your phone, eyes barely open at 3 in the morning, telling yourself you’ll go to sleep after this next paragraph. And then of course, you don’t because something juicy is happening or you want to see how Jack is going to look lovingly at Darlin’ and you just stay up until you complete the chapter. Cee has some amazing amazing AMAZING series, and this is just one of them! 

@psychedelic-ink-Move Me, Baby *

Sil, if you don’t already know what you do to me, then here it is. You literally destroy me. This three-part series is as delectable as they come, being angsty and fluffy but also smut city babyyyyy. Sil is extremely talented and often has me questioning if I have a new kink or what exactly my deal is. 

Ezra (Prospect)

@the-ginger-hedge-witch- Adversity Western AU (Series)*

Ren. I stg. The ideas that you have send me into orbit. This is both Frankie and Ezra, but I am putting it under Ezra because the relationship between reader and Ezra is what I tend to focus on when I am reading this. Frankie’s relationship is also fascinating (and Ezra and Frankie together is extremely hot) but Ezra is written in this way that I just know is him exactly. She completely captured what Ezra’s cadence was (in my head at least) and I am infatuated with it.  

@ezrasversion-Heat*

Rue…my dear god. “Don’t stop on my account… unless of course you’d be more acquiescent to the idea of my assistance.” Like really?! I read this after I watched prospect for the first time and just about keeled over. How you captured how Ezra speaks was so spot on with the movie. So so good!

[allthesmutl0vers]

The Fate Of Us: Chapter One

Chapter One

Y/n

I adore nights like this, with rain cascading outside my window, rhythmically tapping the glass. The night sky, a rich, velvety blue, almost black, hovers above the majestic oak trees. This is the idyllic weather for writing. I place my steaming cup of coffee on my rolling desk, position my laptop on top, and glide it to the inviting couch. I cocoon myself in the soft, warm throw blanket I knitted yesterday and flex my fingers, ready to dive into the world of words.

As I open my computer, launch my browser, and open Google Docs, I revisit the last chapter I penned. Sam and Dean are on a hunt, on the verge of discovering that the girl they’re saving is the love of their lives. But it can’t be that simple. No, I need to infuse tension, lingering gazes, and a hint of angst. It’s what my readers crave, after all.

I write a few chapters, doing my best to perfectly captivate the moment when all of their feelings are laid on the table, the point where there is no going back to being ‘just friends.’ My heart races as the words appear on my screen, longing to feel that moment in real life.

My reality is mundane. My books aren’t soaring in popularity, a reality any budding author faces. We can’t all be H.D. Carlton or Colleen Hoover, but we dare to dream. So this is where I find solace and also where I cultivate ideas for my books. I would give anything to immerse myself in the world I create, to live the life of a hunter.

But unfortunately, it’s just a TV show. So instead, I write about it. I write out different endings, save the characters I wish to save, and make love to fictional characters through the words on my screen.

A few hours later, my coffee cup is empty, as well, as my brain for ideas to finish the last chapter of my story.

Why are endings so hard to write?

As my eyes drift closed, exhausted and ready for a good night’s rest, a knock sounds against my front door. I look at the clock on my phone—1:36 a.m. My brain instantly goes into panic mode. Why would someone be knocking so late? Is there a fire? Is it a serial killer? Did someone I know die? I quietly laugh to myself about the second thought. I mean, why would a serial killer knock on the door of the victim he’s about to kill?

I stand up from the couch and move to the front door, looking through the peephole. I can’t believe my eyes, unlocking the door, and suddenly embarrassed of the oversized ‘Castiel #1’ t-shirt I’m wearing, which is stupid because it’s the middle of the night. This just adds to my curiosity: Why is he here?

I open the door with shaky hands, still unable to believe that Rob Benedict is at my door. “Hi, um... Can I, uh, help you?” I ask timidly.

He smiles widely, somehow dry as the rain continues to pour from the sky. “Hello, y/n. May I come inside? It’s a little wet out here,” he jokes with a soft chuckle.

I instantly move aside, allowing him to enter. “Oh, of course. Um, it’s so nice to meet you,” I say as he enters the door of my one-story cottage-style home. I close the door and turn to face him again. “Wait, how did you know my name?” I ask curiously. I don’t remember putting my name into a meet-and-greet raffle, and I’m fairly certain that those meet-and-greets don’t happen in the middle of the night.

He looks around my home, sweeping his eyes across the layout before finally meeting mine again. “I apologize. I haven’t formally introduced myself,” he holds out a hand to shake. “I’m Chuck. Chuck Shurley.”

I can’t help but chuckle softly as I shake his hand. “You mean you play Chuck Shurley,” I say as I shake his hand. He looks back at me with narrowed eyes and a tilt of his head. “You’re… Rob Benedict. I’m a huge fan of the show,” I say, motioning to Supernatural playing on my TV in the living room.

He tilts his head up slightly, his eyes relaxing as he smirks. “Ah, I see. Well, it seems that I have found the right house, at least,” he chuckles. “I’m sorry, maybe I should be a little more clear. I’m happy to explain. Do you mind if we sit?” He asks, motioning to the couch.

“Oh, yes. Please, make yourself comfortable,” I say, motioning to the couch following him to sit down. Once we’re sat down, I close my laptop and give him my attention again.

“So,” he claps his hands together. “I understand if this is all a little strange. So please allow me to explain,” he says more stoicly. I nod my head and wait for him to begin, mentally making notes of questions to ask.

He holds out his hands, taking a deep breath. “This may sound unbelievable. I understand if you’re confused, but I really am Chuck Shurley,” he says. I narrow my eyes; this must be a joke. “It’s true. All of… this,” he motions to the TV, playing the show still.

“As I’m sure you know, I met a very unfortunate end. All well deserved, I admit,” he holds out his hands again before putting them on his knees. “But I want to change that. And I believe you can help me,” he looks at me seriously, his voice calm and a little hopeful. “I’ve read your writings, y/n, and they’re really good. You’re fanfictions, too,” he nods to my computer.

“You’ve… read my fanfics?” I ask, feeling the heat of embarrassment tint my cheeks.

Chuck chuckles softly and smiles. “I have, you’re really good. The way you move the story along without it being boring. The way you perfectly capture the characters and expand on their emotions and feelings,” he talks with his hands. “Your writing is right up there with the greats, in my opinion.” He says with a hand to his chest.

Am I really believing this right now? Am I dreaming?

“So, here is my proposal,” he sits up straighter, interlocking his fingers together. “I want you to come to our world. I’ll put you right in their line of sight. I can even make them fall in love with you,” he winks. “All I ask in return is for you to help me give myself a different ending.”

I shake my head in disbelief. This can’t really be happening right now. “Wait a second, how are you here? If you’re, you know… dead?” I ask.

Chuck sighs and leans back. “That part was a little tricky. See, I had to go back and change a few things,” he says. “Let’s see. I took out Abbadon, so the mark of Cain was never in the equation, meaning my sister never comes back. Oh, but I am still planning on bringing someone back,” he winks.

“Bobby?!” I ask excitedly.

“No, I wasn’t planning on bringing him back,” he looks at me. “Unless it would persuade you to come with me. I have been in this universe long enough to know how much everybody loves him.” He looks at me with a hopeful expression.

I bite my lower lip anxiously. Is that something I want? What do I want? I feel like, at this point, I could ask for almost anything and get it.

“I don’t know… I mean, if Amara isn’t coming back, that means he’s still in heaven. I don’t want to take that peace from him,” Chuck nods his head in understanding. “But, on the other end, I feel like he’s more accepting, and it would give me a better chance to be introduced to them.” I weigh the options in my mind.

“That it would,” Chuck says, nodding his head.

“Okay. I’ll help you, but I have a few conditions.” I say sternly.

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.” Chuck laughs.

“First of all, don’t make them fall in love with me. If they do, I want it to be real,” Chuck nods, and I continue. “Secondly, I do want Bobby to come back, his house and everything the way it was before the leviathans,” Chucks nods. “Third, I’ll do my best to help you be a better God, but I will not kill Jack. And, if you want to be a better God, you actually have to put in the effort to be one. That means no fucking with Sam, Dean, Castiel, Bobby, Jody, Donna, anyone just because you’re bored,” I raise my eyebrow at him.

“And if you do end up not being a better God, then no sending me back here just as I am about to explain myself or smiting me or anything like that just because you think you’ve lost,” I explain.

Chuck breathes deeply. “Okay, I’ll agree to that.”

I try to think of anything else I want or any other loose ends to tie up. I snap my fingers. “Oh, and I want all of the knowledge I have about the show and its ending to stay with me. And if Metatron isn’t dead already, I want him to be. I don’t want to deal with his bullshit.”

Chuck laughs wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I don’t blame you for that one,” he seems to think the rest of my deal over in his mind. “Alright, you have a deal,” He stands up. “Pack a bag with whatever you need. I’ll wait here, and then we’ll go.”

“What about Bobby?” I ask as I stand up.

“Already done,” he smiles. “Go pack your bag, y/n, and we’ll get going.”

Chapter Two

[elenille]

We tried watching Matilda the Musical movie last night.

We got to about 20-30 mins in before we turned it off. 

The 1996 movie was a huge part of my childhood and I adore musicals, so I was very disappointed in this new adaptation I was really looking forward to seeing.

If I had to use a word to describe it, it would be “grating”.

The pacing was horrendous - sudden, jerky jumps from one scene to the next, hurried dialogues, this constant feeling of being in a rush to somewhere that really prevented me from immersing myself in the movie. If it had been my first time seeing the film with no previous knowledge of the source material whatsoever, I think I wouldn’t have been able to remember half the character’s names, much less their backstories or the plot lines. How can you make a movie for CHILDREN without giving them the time to process the information they are receiving through their eyes and ears simultaneously?

The visuals were so, so, so garish and phony. Don’t get me wrong, I love the atmosphere of a colorful, kind of “fake” set (I’m thinking about shows like Pushing Daisies, for instance), but here it just felt like an over-saturated punch to the face. No subtlety whatsoever.

And the worst part was the music for me. There was literally not a catchy tune or line that I can recall. It was so unremarkable and forgettable. The songs all sounded like regular, written lines they forced the children to sing, for some reason. And there were SO MANY of them. Literally a song every couple of minutes! As said at the top, I adore musicals, but it’s not blurting into song every thirty seconds that makes them what they are. If I think back, for instance, to how wonderfully Galavant did it, back in the day, the contrast is even more jarring. So, not only is the pacing dreadfully rushed, not only we get no real introduction to the characters, not only we skip from set to set in the blink of an eye, but now we also have to pay double attention because somebody started singing once again, and if we’re (un)lucky it’s something that has nothing to do with the story or the current situation at all. Oh, and I’m really awfully sorry to say this, but screaming is not singing. Because that’s what the children were doing in my opinion. Screaming. It was nerve-wrecking.

Last of all, I didn’t understand a lot of the choices they made in the movie (in the short time I watched, of course). What was the point of removing Matilda’s brother and adding that librarian lady character (I don’t recall the name), for instance? Matilda’s brother used to be a great point of paragon with which to compare their parents’ behavior, not to mention one of the catalysts to her powers and inner change. The librarian lady was completely pointless to me. I felt they just wanted to point out that Matilda reads in the most obvious way possible, while also omitting completely her hopeful and joyful journey through literature the way the first movie did - “So Matilda’s strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone.” Also, her presence cheapened the later bond between Matilda and Ms. Honey: if she already had a positive, loving adult presence in her life whom she liked and trusted, what could be new in her relationship with Ms. Honey?

Her parents were one of the biggest disappointments. The horrible abuse they put her through was so downplayed and sanitized - it sounded like the one thing they had against her was that she was not a boy. There was zero backstory to why Matilda was the way she was: we got her already fully formed and ready, with no grounds for us to empathize with or relate to her.

And WHERE exactly was her trauma? Her lonely, painful, scarring childhood? Instead of a shy, fearful, humble, mistreated child I saw a brash, bold, entitled, spiteful little kid, who had no qualms punishing her parents and standing up to just about anyone who disagreed with her, her empowerment more one of loud, brutish sauciness than a heartwarming discovery of trust, self-worth and self-confidence.

Anyway, I’m very sorry, but there was just no magic in it for me. It was very Netflix, very 2022. I don’t think I’m gonna finish it anytime soon.

[umichenginabroad]

Prague: The First Few Days of Czech-ing Out the City

Hello everybody!

I still don’t know how to say ‘hi’ in Czech… we’re working on it.

My name is Rachit Khandelwal, a junior studying computer science, and I’ll be one of your bloggers for the IFSA IPE Tech Accelerator program in Prague. You’ll find my tone in the future to be pretty blunt and conversational, trying to give you the real deal on wherever I go and whatever I see. Over the course of the next few months, I'm planning on taking you along my journey where I hope you immerse myself in a brand new culture and overall, just live more in the moment. We often forget to make everyday a highlight will at Michigan with all the schoolwork and external stress but in Prague, I hope to take my life back off autopilot and explore as much as I can. Along the way, if I make lifelong memories, learn a new language, eat some fire food, and explore. bunch of new countries, I can't complain.

It's been a whirlwind of a few days since I landed in Prague, and boy, do I have stories to tell! Let's dive right into the rollercoaster that has been my initial encounter with this stunning city.

The Jet-Setter's Journey

My trip to Prague was a classic mix of excitement and the usual travel hiccups. After a long flight, which I spent mostly trying to contort into a semi-comfortable position, I had a stop in Paris, which sounds cool, until you realize you’re waiting there for 4 hours. When I finally touched down in Prague. I felt like a character in a spy movie, navigating through a place trying to read a language I barely understood.

Weather Whiplash

The weather greeted me with a brisk, refreshing air – around the same temperature I left behind. The setting however, is a refreshing change, though, seeing people bundled up in coats, scarves fluttering in the wind, against a backdrop of historic buildings.

The Gastronomic Gambit

Ah, the food! My first meal was at a Kebab restaurant near my dorms. For some reason, every street has a Kebab place… don’t ask me why. Oh and let’s not forget the pastries for dessert – Trdelník might just become a staple in my diet. People did say that Prague was a pretty cheap destination for food, but so far, it’s lowkey as expensive as the US. The kebab ran me back like 10 bucks and the dessert ran me 6. Not complaining because it’s still relatively cheap but the way people were describing Prague, they said I’d be living like a king here.

The SIM Card Saga

Connecting to the world here was... interesting. The quest for a SIM card was a mix of charades and guesswork. It was a little confusing on what to exactly do even after getting help from the advisors. Eventually, through a combination of broken Czech and hand signals (on my part) and English (on theirs), I emerged victorious, phone connected to the Czech network.

Unpacking Adventures

Unpacking was like reliving packing, but in reverse. I've managed to transform my room from ‘luggage explosion’ to ‘organized chaos’. My sneakers have found their temporary home, and my dirty clothes have found the floor (yes, I forgot to bring any type of laundry bag. Add it to the list of random stuff I have to buy).

Orientation Odyssey

Orientation was a blur of faces, names, and a whirlwind tour of the campus. I’ve learned two key things: where the restaurants are (priorities!) and that my sense of direction needs some serious work. I foresee a few accidental detours in my future.

The Social Scene

Meeting my fellow students has been a highlight. Everyone’s in the same boat – excited, a bit overwhelmed, but ready to dive into this experience. We’ve already made plans to explore the city together and have even started making plans to go to other countries, and I have a feeling some lifelong friendships are on the horizon.

So, there you have it – my first few days in Prague have been nothing short of an adventure. Stay tuned as I continue to navigate this beautiful city, from the cobbled streets to the classroom, and everything in between. And just to treat y’all, I’m throwing some photos for you to look at Prague through the eyes of my camera.

^ Yes, this is a real photo. I can't believe it either.

^ Breakfast at our orientation.

^ This is the hallway outside of classrooms.

Catch you in the next update,

Rachit Khandelwal

[madelineariah]

2023/April 10th - The Elastic Girl

I kind of want to get something out of the way – because it’s something I’ve talked about like, six or seven times in the last fifteen years but nonetheless continues to keep me up at night to this day. As I mentioned previously, flexibility used to be everything to me. In many ways, it kind of still is.

Around the time I was fourteen, I found that I could put my ankles behind my head with relative ease. This got me very interested in contortion, and seeing as I was coming to terms with my gender identity and had come out to my parents, I began trying to stretch more in order to better tap into that elasticity.

However, prior to my fifteenth birthday, I was screened for scoliosis – only to discover that I had a rare form of kyphosis, which is a lot worse.

My brother also had it, and we both ended up having spinal surgery to correct it. I’ve brought it up in morbid detail several times in the past (the stay in the ICU, the complications during recovery, the lifelong health problems, and so on). I think I’ll spare the details this time, or I’ll perhaps expand on them more in a different post.

The thing is, I never gave up on wanting to be more elastic – even when my flexibility was cut in half. Mentally, I formed this alternate representation of myself who never had the surgery and in-fact progressed more and more into being made of rubber. I began to perceive a reality in which my body could stretch limitlessly, fold in half, twist like a corkscrew, melt into a puddle, and fit into any small space.

It actually got so intensive that one day, I actually visualized this experience where the scar along my back turned into a zipper, and I hollowed out, shapeshifting into a rubber bodysuit. As I carried out this visualization, I could feel someone wearing me, and I began to fixate upon that person to an insane degree – their shape, their warmth, their motion, their scent.

People who have known me for a while (eg. my close friends who somehow still put up with me) know that as I got into my early 20s, I began to get involved in hypnosis. I began using self-trance as a means to further immerse in the sensorium of these alternate realities where I was just a completely elastic and malleable woman who also could transform into any object I desired.

This became my focus for more than a decade.

I experience a certain degree of disillusionment as a result of the disparity between what my physical body can experience and what my mental shape can become. As my health has deteriorated year over year, it has made it harder for my physical senses to operate. I struggle to feel things because my nerves are just completely shot at 29. I cannot engage in various activities because doing so causes chronic pain. 

Like, two years after my recovery, it was discovered on the X-rays that my spinal fusion had been placed too high and one of the metal rods was pressing into my right shoulder. As such, I get pinched nerves in my neck pretty regularly which cause severe tension headaches. A few years after that, it was discovered that one of my lumbar discs had developed a herniation which caused sciatic pain.

What most people don’t realize is, when you live a life of limited mobility and chronic pain, it adversely affects your ability to connect with others. In my relationships, I began to feel like I couldn’t keep up with those I was intimate with. I couldn’t feel what they wanted me to feel, and I couldn’t maintain the physical energy to keep up with them. It always felt like my body was so old despite my age.

Eventually, I stopped dating in real life because I just hated this disparity too much. I would still have the occasional fling, but I just did not feel confident in myself anymore. I doubled down on this elastic self who resided completely within the Net and could do literally anything she wanted.

For a long time, I was able to get by, but the experience also changed me in ways I never would have expected. After a while, I began to think less like a person and more like a rubber object. I became fixated on my own malleability and having others exploit it. If I were to describe anything as my addiction, this would be it.

The reason I am writing about this is because I realize that after a while, I stopped having friends in the traditional sense. I only approached people with the hope that they would either leverage my elasticity or see me as an object for their own utilization. I became so hooked on that life that I didn’t really care for the things that normal friends do.

It’s only now that I am realizing how much of a mistake that was.

Over the years, I lost so many people who meant so much to me. It’s caused me to be more and more alone. Coming back to social media through Twitter and Tumblr is kind of a last-ditch effort to embrace a bit of normalcy, but it’s hard because I don’t know when those urges are going to come back.

I keep telling myself subconsciously that I don’t want a normal life, that I want to remain the same delusional rubber girl I have been for more than a decade, but I know doing that is unhealthy and will destroy me. I just… don’t know how to stop.

[greeneyedsnake]

GES Vol 5 Status Update:

I recently got a question about the Green-Eyed Snake series on one of my other stories, and I wanted to share my response here because A: I figure at the very least I owe you all some kind of an update, and B: I think there’s good advice there for fic-interaction in general. So, to answer the question will I continue with GES?

I don't know. I have stuff written, I have lots of stuff planned, but it's hard to actually write it these days because it's difficult to immerse myself deeply enough in Potter to write a story like that without getting thrown-out of the writing by my overwhelming disgust for the author. Spite helps, and I've managed to slog through a few sentences over the past few months largely on that basis, but it's abysmally slow. So I just don't know. Which is why I haven't really responded most of the time when people ask me about the GES series, because "idk" isn't a helpful answer for anyone I feel. But: I don't know. I want to, but it's hard. The world sucks, and she's making it worse on purpose, and it's hard to focus on working in her sandbox—even with the goal of giving her a thousand middle fingers with the resulting story—because it's hard to focus past the evil she's doing in real life to work on the story. Maybe if every Republican in America suddenly drops dead of shame and stops trying to slaughter genderqueer children, or Rowling yeets herself into an abyss or has an epiphany to maybe stop being irredeemably evil on purpose, or some other such miracle happens to make the world less awful, it'll get easier. But otherwise: I truly do not know.

I'll also say that opening an e-mail from AO3 and expecting to enjoy reading someone's comment about my new LotR fic, and instead getting this, does not engender motivation to write anything. So your tip for the day is to ask writers questions like this through more appropriate avenues in the future (tumblr, dms, one of the stories in the series in question, etc) rather than hijacking some unrelated story. And maybe remind us or something you liked about that story when you do. The few sentences I have been able to eke-out this year have all been inspired by readers commenting on some chapter of GES, because their enjoyment reminds me of why I liked that story, too. Whenever I am trying to work on it, I page back through comments and messages that people have sent, and that helps me swallow the bitter pill of JKR’s existence enough to write a few more words. Every nice (or even insightfully critical!) thing that anyone has ever said about his series helps, a lot. And I know objectively that people wouldn't ask "will you continue?" about a story they didn't like reading, but you spark no inspiration like this; only disappointment. The only reward fanfic writers get is to have readers tell them what they liked about their work, so if you want to encourage your favorite writers to write more stuff for you to read, that's the best way to go about it. Not this.

So: sorry for not saying anything sooner about the status of this story, but it was because I didn’t feel that I had anything useful to say. But that’s where we are: the story is not abandoned, it’s just being drowned right now by the weight of the world.

I do want to take a moment to thank you each and every one of you for the beautiful comments and messages and encouragement you’ve given me, though. I do want to finish this series for you at some point, I truly do. I just don’t know how, or when. But someday I genuinely hope to.

Thank you for reading, and I’m sorry to disappoint you.

[desbianherstory]

Sharan Dhaliwal is an openly bisexual British-Indian writer, journalist and activist. Dhaliwal is the founder and editor of Burnt Roti, a South Asian magazine. She also created Oh Queer Cupid, a queer speed dating and comedy night, in addition to founding and directing Middlesex Pride. Dhaliwal’s memoir Burning My Roti: Breaking Barriers as a Queer Indian Woman was published this year.

Since Burnt Roti’s inception, I came out as bisexual and realised that a lot of the reason that I had held back from living my true life was because of the way I grew up. I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a continued pained experience for others, so I started to focus on LGBTQ+ stories, and out of that have created Middlesex Pride. It’s the first Pride event for Middlesex – I want to focus on discussions and education. I grew up in Southall and Hounslow and, along with many other South Asian people, was immersed in a very traditional life. When I came out, I noticed messages from people thanking me for doing it, but also telling me that they can not – I learnt that a lot of these people lived in the Middlesex area. There’s a severe lack of LGBTQ+ visibility in communities there and that creates two things – a lot of people don’t understand what sexuality means for the LGBTQ+ community and tend to focus on sexual acts or HIV. It means that the stigma attached to it causes young people to stifle themselves, sometimes exacerbating mental health issues. Another thing it does it creates a doubt in the minds of those who are discovering their sexuality. If it isn’t discussed or taken seriously, it must not be real. People could live a long time (like myself), keeping any feelings or desires to themselves. My mental health suffered, I was in various relationships I didn’t actually want to be in and I was stuck in a destructive pattern of getting with someone, disliking the situation and leaving it soon after.

So attitudes towards sex and sexuality where you grew up were a little guarded?

There’s a stigma around sex and sexual acts (like with much of society), and it’s considered ‘dirty’. Talking about our bodies is seen as ‘disgusting’ – including puberty and menstruation. A lot of South Asian womxn learn to keep to themselves – never asking questions and never really learning more than they’re told. It’s changing a little, but there are still remnants of it there, which I want to break down. Older generations would, for example, say that they never heard of the word ‘lesbian’ before. There’s not really a word that translates in the Punjabi language now (I’m not sure if that’s changed over time) but there is a language barrier. Teaching certain words, what they mean and what effect they would (and wouldn’t) have on them is important. There’s still stigmas and negative connotations, but it needs to be broken down and explained.

So, being bi! What are your experiences like as a bi woman of colour in 2019?

Ok so let’s talk about fetishisation. The first woman I went on a proper date with was a white American, who seemed to have an obsession with Indians. I’m not gonna lie, I ignored the red flag from her text which popped up on my phone in all caps “I REALLY WANT AN INDIAN”. At first I wondered if she was Indian, and then she spent the rest of the day texting me about Bollywood films, as if I knew nothing about them. It felt strange. But I was incredibly attracted to her and just wanted to go on a date, so I did. She didn’t speak too much about Indian stuff then, but the texts continued – she wanted me to teach her Hindi. I suddenly felt like I was working as an unpaid language tutor. For some reason, I expected to experience fetishisation from cis men, not from the LGBTQ+ community – it was that naivety that was the biggest blow. I’ve had struggles being specifically bi on dating apps – lesbians haven’t taken me seriously. I’ve had some unmatch me because they assumed I was just “messing around” on the app. I’m now in a relationship with a woman and it feels amazing – she doesn’t question my bisexuality, she knows I want to be with her. It’s not just the lesbian community – there are bad eggs everywhere. But bisexuality is definitely considered a ‘half assed attempt at being gay’.

How did your family react when you came out?

My dad had a pure and wholesome reaction, where he quoted me verbatim “Sharan, sexuality is fluid” and I lost it. Firstly, credit me when you quote me, secondly I don’t even know if he knows what he’s saying. But bless him, he doesn’t care about my sexual preference, he just wants me to be happy. My mother had a strange reaction – she jumped between disliking it and not caring. I think she thinks there’s fifty per cent chance I will marry a man, so she’s just relying on that. I don’t want to get into maths with her, so I just let her be for now. But a big part of Middlesex Pride is to allow her and others like her to find out more about what it means to want to be with someone who isn’t the ‘expected gender’. I want her to know it’s okay if I don’t marry a cis man. In fact, I’m going to marry my girlfriend, so she has to be on board or she won’t get to hang out with her grandkids lol.

[blindbeta]

Blind / Low Vision Person’s Review of “Blind” by Rachel DeWoskin and Why Writers Should Not Underestimate the Benefits of a Sensitivity Reader

[Content warnings: spoilers for the book. Ableism. Brief mention of an accident involving eye trauma. Mentions of suicide. Stereotypes about blind people. Also this review, because I focused on the portrayal of blindness, comes across negatively. Please know that I have no hate for the author and might even read another book she wrote. However, I did not like the way this book portrayed blindness and, as difficult as it is, I wanted to be honest in my review.]

I struggled with the title, and I’m not even sure benefits is the appropriate word. What I want to convey here is not Brought to You By Big Sensitivity Reader Company vibes, but more This Book Was Not Good and It Needed a Sensitivity Reader Very Badly vibes.

Blind is about Emma Silver, a high school student who goes blind in a traumatic accident. Here is a good summary and review by a blind person. I listened to the audiobook, which was narrated well. I’ll start by saying this will only be a review of the portrayal of blindness — I’ll try to leave my other opinions out just to keep things focused.

Unfortunately, focusing on just blindness means that it will not make this review more positive, because this book is about a blind girl recovering from going blind. In a way that is both inauthentic and swerves well out of the author’s lane. I say that because, as I hope will become apparent, this book consists of main character Emma being sad about being blind for the majority of the book. The book doesn’t simply have a character who goes blind. That is the main character’s entire arc.

This is a long review. However, I believe it will be invaluable for my readers and anyone who is interested in writing a blind character. Because this book passes most of my minimum standards for writing blind characters and was still lacking due to many factors, including stereotypes. I included many sub-headings so you can find specific topics easily.

Helpful Links

I include these links in the review. I’ll list them here for easy finding.

Here are two reviews of the book by blind readers: one and two.

Here is a video of the author talking about some of research she did for the book.

Here is my post Things I Want to See More Of / Less Of.

Here is my post about writing a blind character adjusting to being blind and being all sad about it when you aren’t blind yourself.

And finally, here is the post I shared that lists misconceptions about blind people.

The Author

The author, Rachel Dewoskin, is not blind. I did as much research as I could, but even if I hadn’t done so before reading the book, it was obvious she wasn’t blind herself. There are too many inaccuracies and offensive moments. This becomes a problem not because her MC was blind, but because she told a blind person’s story and used tropes in ways I think would be better off written by a blind person. If I’m going to read a story like this, I don’t want to read it from the perspective of a person who isn’t blind. When I get into the details of what went wrong, I hope you’ll see why.

Did the author do her research? Yes. The author met with blind people, clearly researched assistive technology and cane skills, and even taught herself contracted Braille. She talks a little about it in this video.

In fact, I wanted to say I am so impressed and grateful this author immersed herself in things like Braille and cane skills. None of my followers have shared that they went to a Lighthouse For the Blind or taught themselves to read Braille or spoken so passionately about why they loved it.

But sometimes research falls short. Or it is simply not enough.

That’s why I’m writing this review. For you writers writing blind characters when you aren’t blind. Because while the author clearly had good intentions, while the author clearly did her research and put in the time to learn and listen in ways I don’t think many of my followers have yet — the book was not authentic enough for me.

This book needed several sensitivity readers. If it had any, I would be surprised.

The Cover

The audiobook seems to have Braille on the cover, but I can’t tell if it is accessible or simply a picture of Braille. The cover features the word Blind in white print on a black background, with what seems to be Braille in rainbow colors that also spell out the title. I’ll reserve judgment here, since I don’t know the answer. If the Braille is tactile, then the cover is fantastic.

In the video I linked, the author seems to be holding the hardcover edition of the book with Braille on the cover. I can’t tell if the Braille is actually tactile or not.

What I Liked About the Book

I wanted to list a few things I liked about the book.

1. The main character is Jewish.

2. Emma has a large family full of well-developed characters and realistic portrayals of various ages. Everyone reacts uniquely to her blindness and I thought these characters were all used well. The scenes with Emma and her older sisters as well as the scenes with her mom were really great.

3. Emma gets therapy for her trauma. She also gets training to use a cane. These are annoyingly rare in stories.

4. As I said, the author clearly did her research. This is obvious when reading the book and In everything I found when researching the author after I finished it. I want to give the author praise here. I thought her explanations of technology Emma uses were the most accurate I have seen so far, both in books and when doing sensitivity reads.

What I Didn’t Like

I will start with this: Emma, after a year of learning to use her cane, is still using a cane inside her own house. After a year. This is not realistic, nor does it seem comfortable at all to use a cane in one’s own home. I don’t know anyone who does this and according to the other reviews, I am not the only one who was surprised by this.

Basically, this story would be okay with some inaccuracies. That’s to be expected. The real issue I had with this book was that it uses tropes the blind community generally hates and that the book is literally about !!! a character going blind and adapting. That’s the story. If you remove the blindness and the trauma, the story falls apart.

The author told a story that was not hers to tell and she did so badly.

If you are confused about why I dislike this, please read this post called Writing Blind Characters Accepting Being Blind When You Aren’t Blind Yourself.

What Did The Author Do Badly?

Trauma and Blindness

The story starts when main character, Emma, goes blind after a fireworks accident. Not only is this cliché, but it also tics one of my boxes in my Things I Want To See Less of post. This author wrote about a character going blind due to a traumatic accident. Link to the post.

In telling a story that was not hers to tell, here are some harmful things in the book:

The author does not do a good job of separating Emma’s trauma from her blindness. To be fair, this is difficult and most people don’t know to go about doing so with purpose. There are a lot of times in the book where the fact that Emma is traumatized leads to her saying a lot of terrible things about blindness and blind people that are never corrected or contradicted in the story. Again, if you are not sure why this is a problem, read the link I shared to my post.

Here are a few times this issue came up:

-Emma develops a habit of rocking, which myself and many reviewers know to attribute to trauma, but it isn’t clear if the author thinks blind people rock, as the stereotype indicates. Is Emma rocking as a trauma response or because she is blind? The book doesn’t make it clear. This is a time where authors need to be clear.

-Emma assumed she will never get a job, be kissed, get married, etc, after going blind.

-Emma yells about being ruined due to her blindness. The first two hours of the audiobook consist of Emma complaining about being blind. She mentions never being able to get a job a few times, assuming she won’t be able to work. While blind people do struggle with employment, this is due to discrimination, lack of transportation, lack of accommodations, lack of community support, and other systemic issues.

-Emma calls herself disfigured.

-Emma states she wanted to die. In another part of the book, when a background character we never met, Claire, completed suicide, Emma wonders if she was so focused on Claire because she wondered if she wanted to kill herself too.

-On the subject of the character, Claire, Emma states: “How easy would being gay be compared to being blind?”

This is especially damaging because some people are blind and gay. It also isn’t fair for Emma to compare them and the systemic issues that are faced by blind people and gay people. Emma not only trivializes homophobia, but also decides being blind is worse. For Emma, being blind is the worst thing ever, which is very isolating to read.

There are times where the fact that Emma is traumatized was not only grouped in with her blindness, but where the author used trauma to write ideas about blindness that are ultimately harmful.

This book, if readers of the blog want to read it, should be a lesson on why separating trauma from blindness is important. Whether that means making clear distinctions in the narrative itself or just not writing about a character going blind after a traumatic accident.

Let’s continue the overall things done badly.

Stereotypes and Tropes About Blind People

1. Rocking —

I have already mentioned the rocking thing above, but to reiterate here, not all blind people rock to orient themselves.

2. Touching Faces —

Emma and another blind character literally feel each other’s faces, one of the most hated tropes for blind people. In another scene, Emma feels another character’s face without asking.

3. Where Are the Audio Descriptions? —

Emma compares her life to a horror movie she couldn’t watch. This is a subtle reinforcement of the idea that blind people don’t watch films or television. The book makes no mention of audio descriptions. I suppose Emma and all the other blind characters simply don’t watch films or shows anymore.

4. Supposedly Fake Service Dogs —

Emma gets a dog that is specifically said to not be a guide dog. Emma brings this dog to restaurants and to school. Emma explains that she can get away with bringing her dog because no one wants to tell the blind kid no. This was, as you may be able to imagine, frustrating to read. Plenty of blind people have been denied access to transportation and buildings with a guide dog that is supposed to be able to travel freely. Emma’s blindness would absolutely not be a big help to her in bringing her dog places where it is not allowed. In showing Emma getting away with bringing her dog into restaurants when he is explicitly not a service dog, the author is contributing to a huge myth that prevents actual service dogs from traveling freely. Yes, this is only a book and it probably isn’t falling into the hands of someone powerful — however, it has probably been picked up by a business owner, a driver for public transport, a teacher, etc.

5. Avoiding words like see and look —

Emma avoids words like see and look. She also gets angry at her friends for using such words. At one point, Emma’s friend says something and Emma snaps, “I can’t see”. This prompts her friend to, according to Emma, never make that mistake again. Toward the end of the book, Emma is still avoiding such words.

Here is a list of misconceptions about blind people. Look at #6.

Here is another review of this book that also touches on this issue. The reviewer states: “The strange thing is that I’ve never known any blind person avoiding the use of words like “see” or “look.” Again, I’d hate for sighted people to read this book and think that blind folk all avoid words with visual associations; in fact, the only blind friends I talk to moan about sighted people avoiding the use of such visual words because they think we’ll be offended!”

6. All Blind People Are Apparently Totally Blind —

At one point in the story, Emma attends a school for the blind. Another character, who I think was Emma’s mother, says that the campus is beautiful. Emma makes this remark: “Why bother making a school for the blind beautiful? It’s lost on everyone anyway.”

Wow, Emma, that was rude. This is another example of where Emma’s pain and anger cause issues for readers. If they take this at face value, they may think that blind people don’t notice or appreciate beauty. More importantly, they might also assume, like Emma, that all blind people can’t see. As I have stated many times on this blog, most blind people have residual vision. Not everyone is totally blind. This is why, like beautiful grounds, schools for the blind also have things like stairs with high contrast.

7. Subtle Use of the Idea That People With Low Vision Should Rather Strain Themselves Than Be Blind —

This one was less obvious for me. However, once I thought about it again, I understood what I was reading in this character. There’s a rather outgoing character named Seb whose personality is very refreshing in this story. Seb attends the school for the blind with Emma. Seb has low vision.

So Seb wants to get a job. Remember how Emma was afraid she wouldn’t be able to get a job now that she is blind?

Instead of showing Seb getting a job to prove that idea wrong, he knows he has to conveniently not mention being blind when he applies, showing up in sunglasses and without a cane. The book states he worries he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application.

Here is what the book states:

[Quote] “He got hired without telling any of the guys who ran the place that he wasn’t sighted; I know because he had confided in me and Dee the week before that he wanted the job—if friend worked there and said they had an opening—but Seb was worried he wouldn’t be able to fill out the application. So he showed up one night before closing time, wearing sunglasses and not carrying a cane, and asked all casually if he could grab and application and bring it back the next day.

And he spent all night filling it and brought it back the next day. He didn’t mention that he was blind or that the application had taken six hours to finish with the help of his sighted brother.” [End quote]

Seb has no obligation to reveal any personal information to them. If he wants to fill out the application on his own time, in a way in which he feels comfortable, that is fine. However, the book implies he thought he would not be hired if they knew he was blind. Rather than talk about the employment discrimination that is such a huge problem for blind people, the book decides to skip over this. And rather than address Emma’s fear-based expectation that she will never get a job, presumably because she doesn’t think blind people can do anything, the book ignores it.

Seb getting a job, especially in this way, does absolutely nothing to assuage Emma’s fears. Or challenge any possible low expectations the readers may have.

Seb fills out the application by himself and it takes six hours. Six. Hours. His brother also helps him eventually and it still takes that long. No one I know, even with intense internalized ableism, would sit there for six hours doing something like that.

Seb should be using a magnifying device or a scanner app. There is tons of technology out there for people with low vision and the author chose to include absolutely none of it in the book. Instead, she chose to show a character struggling for six hours without exploring his reasons for doing so. Does he do this because of internalized ableism? If yes, how can the same character tell Emma the school will get rid of her “Poor Blind Kid bullshit”?

Now, in some families and some cultures, it would be more appropriate for a family member to help. However, the author tells us nothing more about Seb’s culture, his family life, or his motivations. I assume he did not ask for his brother’s help until later, because I can’t fathom why having a family member help from the start would take six hours.

Why is a character doing this in a story that is supposed to be about adjusting to blindness? Clinging to his remaining vision instead of using a few adaptive tools to make things easier on his eyes hardly makes him a good role model for Emma. Why is a character modeling independence in this specific way? In a way that tells Emma that it is better to struggle with a little vision than to be totally blind?

This is reinforced when Emma says some kids, including Seb, pass well. This is something that cannot be given nuance unless it is written by someone who experienced it. Otherwise, the story shows Emma over and over again that being blind is bad. Undesirable. Which is ableist.

Do people struggle with this? Absolutely. Did the author write it well? No.

And Here Are a Few Things That Could Have Been Done Better

In this section, I wanted to go over things I thought could have been done better. They aren’t necessarily harmful, but I wanted to mention them.

Sunglasses

The main character wears sunglasses when she goes out. This is likely because she has a scar she feels self-conscious about, but this is still a big stereotype that the author could have taken more care with.

O&M Issues

So Emma has someone come around to teach her orientation and mobility, which was nice. The author put in her research here as well. However, the instructor leaves after a time, which seems odd. Rather than work with her around her schools or other locations, he decides she has learned all the basics. I received O&M training until university.

Now Let’s Examine The Blind Characters vs Tropes

In this section, I want to go over the biggest tropes in the stories structure, the number of blind characters, and what I normally advise to get around these issues. We’ll see how this advice compares to how the book turned out.

So, the things to look out for are:

-tokenism

-blind characters going blind through trauma

-blind characters being sad about being blind

Examining Tokenism

Emma is not the only blind character. The blind characters include: Emma, Sebastian, Dee, and Annabelle. I normally say to have one other blind character at minimum. The book meets that requirement.

Examining Blind Characters Going Blind Through Trauma

I also normally suggest avoiding characters going blind through trauma, especially main characters. If the writer would like to go ahead with this, I normally suggest 2 or 3 other blind characters who didn’t go blind through trauma. With 2 as the minimum. I admit, I prefer the main character not to be the one going blind through trauma, simply because the main character has so much power in the perception of the reader.

Let us examine each character.

Emma - went blind through a traumatic fireworks accident

Sebastian- unknown

Dee - unknown

Annabelle- went blind through Retinitis Pigmentosa

On the topic of Dee and Seb, Emma does mention they may have better hearing, which she claims you only have if you lose your sight before the age of ten. We can guess that Dee and Seb both went blind in early childhood or were born blind, but we aren’t sure. What I want here is explicit confirmation that other characters didn’t go blind through accidents. We only get that with Annabelle and her RP.

Not only that, but the other blind characters are not in the novel as much. Annabelle only shows up at the end, seemingly as a way for Emma to help another recently blind person to show how she has developed. Seb and Dee are only in a few chapters, mostly as flashbacks. They don’t get much backstory or development either.

However, it fills my minimum requirements, so I’ll let it pass.

Examining Blind Characters Being Sad About Being Blind

This is literally Emma throughout the entire book. Until the last few chapters.

Annabelle has a similar, shorter arc, although she is only 9 at the time. Annabelle comes in near the end of the book.

It is normal for people to need an adjustment period, particularly if they are young. However, to have the entire book consist of Emma being sad and having trauma focused mostly on her blindness is not something I’m okay with. Especially because, as I wrote in this post, it can leave non-blind readers with a very negative impression of blindness. Again, why would I want to read about this arc from an author who isn’t blind? Why make the entire book about adjusting to blindness?

Anyway, then we have Seb and Dee.

There characters were refreshing in this story, which is mostly Emma being sad and angry.

Dee doesn’t seem to be sad, but we don’t know much about her. She does seem well adjusted and laidback. She and Seb go skiing, so that’s something.

Sebastian gets a little more attention in the story. He does tell Emma the school for the blind will knock the “BPK bullshit” or “Poor Blind Kid bullshit” right out of her. I thought it was funny. Sebastian also has a big personality and interests outside of moping about being blind. He enjoys skiing and, according to Emma, he would have no problem with presenting on the Lighthouse For the Blind in front of people who aren’t blind, unlike Emma, who struggles with calling attention to her blindness. Which I can understand, what with the awkward questions her sighted classmates give her.

However, Seb also has an issue with hiding or fighting against his low vision in some parts of the story. If Sebastian were the main character, I could understand some of the things he does. However, this does not go well at all with Emma’s arc.

Anyway, Seb and Dee don’t get nearly enough time in the book for me to feel 100% comfortable using them as exceptions.

How Would a Sensitivity Reader Help?

If I were doing a sensitivity read for this book, I would suggest including more about Seb and Dee and the school for the blind. I would have explained that the way the story sidelines them shows Emma is not okay associating with her blind friends. I would have asked for more backstory, more contrast between them and the main character, and possibly a few more blind characters Emma met at the school for the blind.

If the writer was insistent on having Emma go blind in an accident, I would have suggested reducing the time she spent depressed and shifting the focus from her blindness to her traumatic accident. I would have had the author work harder to separate the two, even if it took Emma a while to do so. I would have also suggested reducing Emma’s remarks or have them called out. For example, her comments about not being able to get a job or beautiful schools being lost on blind people. Sebastian would have been excellent in this role.

I would have worked with her to either get rid of or subvert the list of stereotypes. Most of them are easy fixes.

I would have told her blind people don’t use canes in their houses. I would have given suggestions for assistive technology for Seb to use. I would have helped her with the section on trauma and blindness, reducing or erasing a lot of the issues I included there. I would have suggested giving Emma an arc that isn’t entirely about adjusting to blindness, even if her story starts with going blind.

I probably would have seemed nicer about my feedback because the author still had opportunity to make changes.

The author could have done more research on stereotypes and cane usage, but I think there is an important lesson here about the benefits of sensitivity readers.

In the end, a sensitivity reader would have fixed most of the problems in this story, despite the amount of research the author did. Research cannot always teach you everything and that is where a sensually or authenticity reader comes in. Moreover, there is a certain respect in involving communities you are representing. In paying them in money or exposure. In listening to their voices and respecting what they say. If the author was willing to learn Braille and sit with blind people to learn about canes and technology, why did she stop at getting sensitivity readers? Why does it feel like she didn’t want to include the blind community in any meaningful way?

I hope this helps someone.

-BlindBeta

[mythicamagic]

Heatwave: a Tododeku fanfic

Summary: Todoroki's quirk comes in very handy during a heatwave. If Izuku could just calm down enough to reap the benefits, that would be great. Tododeku

Rating: T

Words: 1,700

Read here or on Ao3

AN: First time writing for this pairing, I hope you like it! I might add another chapter to this, not sure yet.

Heatwave

Izuku Midoriya wasn't exactly the type to curse a blazing orb in the sky for inflicting Japan with a particularly nasty heatwave. He left that sort of thing to Kacchan.

However, pair intensive training with a punishing system of high atmospheric pressure baking the concrete beneath his shoes and heating his already screaming skin from the overuse of his quirk- and Izuku found himself dangerously close to hurling a complaint at the sun.

He stumbled out into harsh glaring sunlight, thankful his training session was finally over for the day. His clothes plastered to his form, skin thrumming. He patted himself down, panting.

"You're not helping," he mumbled to his trembling legs. If his limbs could co-operate, that would be great. At least he hadn't suffered any broken bones.

Wiping sweat from his brow, Izuku gingerly carried himself across the courtyard to a water fountain- taking grateful gulps.

Without thinking too much about his surroundings, Izuku leaned away and collapsed onto the nearest available bench beneath the shade of a tree. He boldly sprawled onto the wood, letting it cushion his back- hinting at his state of exhaustion. Izuku never liked to take up too much unnecessary space.

The second soft curling hair met something sturdy beneath his head- he probably should've jolted away.

Oh...wow.

But a cool- frosty sensation bit into the back of his neck, heavenly upon heated, abused flesh. A faint gasp escaped him, swallowing a relieved groan.

He only knew one person at UA who could elicit such a cold temperature.

Tilting his head back, Izuku squeaked.

Todoroki didn't look up from his book, seemingly immersed in it. Faint flecks of snow and frost coated his right side, likely in use to keep him cool.

And I'm mooching off it!

"A-ah! I'm so sorry, Todoroki!" whipping his head up so fast his vision spun, Izuku shifted slightly to face him on the bench. "I didn't realise you were there- and not in a bad way! I don't mean to say that you don't have a presence- because you do! You're very striking and cool and-"

"You can lay back down again if you want to, it's not a big deal."

Panicked words caught in Izuku's throat mid-ramble.

Green eyes blinked, sliding downwards. Lay back down? But his head had been cushioned by Todoroki's thigh. Practically in his lap.

Todoroki appeared unruffled, tearing a calm, languid gaze from his book. His expression remained unreadable. "It's hot."

"Huh?"

"The weather."

"Oh! Yes, it sure is!" Izuku winced, loathing the squeak in his voice. Oh to have a quirk that could allow the ground to swallow him up.

Todoroki blinked slowly like a contented cat, tilting his head. "So...I don't mind sharing my quirk…" he elaborated, gesturing with one hand to his right, frosty side.

Izuku gazed at the layer of white clinging to Todoroki's leg, hip and arm. His heart warmed, stomach doing a somersault. "You'd really do that? But I'm… well, I'm kind of gross and sweaty from all the training," he rubbed the back of his neck.

"I wouldn't have offered if I thought you were gross, Midoriya."

He stilled, caught off guard by the statement. Todoroki had a way of being incredibly direct, but it never really bothered him. Especially at times like these. Todoroki was incredibly kind, more so than he'd likely admit.

Due to the sun melting his nerves, Izuku accepted the offer readily with a hearty 'thank you!' Laying down again, he fought not to slump with relief and exhaustion the second his nape and damp hair met the solid, cold muscle of Todoroki's thigh.

Heterochromia eyes watched him briefly, before sliding back to his open book and continuing to read.

Screaming internally, Izuku fiddled with his hands, settling with lacing them upon his stomach. The silence roared loudly.

This doesn't have to be weird. He's just a friend. Friends do this kind of thing all the time, right?

Well, none of his friends. Todoroki was usually quite reserved with physical affection, Iida expressed himself through verbal concern or encouragement, and Uraraka did similarly since she worried about activating her quirk with the use of her hands. When she patted him on the back it was with a well placed palm.

But he'd observed Kaminari, Kirishima and Ashido, and they were aggressively touchy-feely in comparison, slinging their arms around their friends and lounging against each other.

Izuku tried not to take this rare moment for granted. He needed to talk about something. Anything!

"Ah- that's Hero's Journey volume 9!" he exclaimed, tilting his head back to sneak a peek at the cover of the book. "How are you enjoying it?"

Todoroki lifted a shoulder, "it's alright. I figure volume 10 will wind down with covering Hero retirement since this one is about marriage and kids. It's a little naïve in places though."

Sobering, Izuku instinctively switched gears, forgetting his embarrassment and nodding seriously. "I get what you mean. It doesn't go into nearly enough detail about what having a family can be like for Pro Heroes. Most of the top Heroes in the rankings either don't have kids or are estranged from them."

"Yeah...but I was referring more to the part where it speculated about pairing existing heroes together and imagining what quirk their children would have. It skipped over Quirk Marriages like they were nothing."

Reading the heaviness in Todoroki's voice, dark brows pulled together. Izuku tilted his head, injecting conviction into his tone. "When we make it as heroes, we can talk more about it. Shed light on the issue."

Mismatched eyes flicked down, meeting his. They warmed just a little, the corner of Todoroki's mouth tilting up at the corner.

"You almost sound a little heated there," he teased.

"Aha," Izuku scratched a freckled cheek, "was that weird? I'm not personally affected by it so it's probably none of my business- but I know it's important to you. I get riled up on your behalf."

"Don't overthink it- I'm glad when you do. Reminds me of when you screamed at me during the Sports Festival."

"H-hey, I didn't scream..."

"It was definitely a scream."

"A loud yell, maybe."

Todoroki gave a small noise that sent Izuku reeling, toes curling at the sound. Holy shit- that that been a chuckle?

"Anyway, I won't be having kids unless I adopt," the Half-Cold Half-Hot user muttered, circling back to the real conversation. "So this volume probably doesn't apply to me much."

"Really? I can imagine Endeavor not liking that," Izuku hummed, sharing a mischievous smile with him. "But then, you've never set out to do anything for his specific approval. You're living your life, with your quirk."

Something cool and smooth met his forehead like a soft icepack. It took a moment for him to realise that it was Todoroki's palm settling over his bangs. Izuku went completely still, speechless.

"You still looked warm, I thought this would help," Todoroki glanced away, holding his book with one hand. Was it just Izuku's imagination or did his unscarred cheek look slightly red? It was hard to tell from the angle without craning his head back even more upon Todoroki's lap and he was currently working on trying not to hyperventilate.

Hand. On head. Touching!

He positively combusted when a thumb started to stroke his damp brow currently marred with sweat, rubbing gently at the bridge of his nose. Izuku's freckled cheeks blazed red.

"You're doing that thing again where you get worry lines here," Todoroki muttered, continuing to move the pad of his thumb for emphasis. It felt so gentle. His skin sighed at the touch.

"I-I was just...hoping this wasn't inconveniencing you or anything…" Izuku lied, voice thin. Oh no. Those darn jitters and confusing feelings were acting up again, sending a migration of butterflies up from his stomach into his throat.

For a while, it had been hard to pinpoint that he got flustered around Uraraka because she was a girl- a pretty girl- and one that paid attention to him, but it didn't go much deeper than that in terms of romance.

Todoroki was different. When Izuku thought about him, he admired his strength and values- how far he'd come in owning his successes and slowly breaking free from the shackles of the past- but such thoughts were accompanied with a weird yearning.

Todoroki was one of a kind. Beautiful when he flourished. Izuku admired him as a fellow student and rookie hero. But then the jitters came, followed by sweaty palms and a deep yearning. A yearning for what, Izuku hadn't been able to fathom. He just felt like brushing the hair out of Shouto's eyes or leaning against him or-

- or kissing the exposed skin of his neck. That would be nice.

Swallowing thickly, his heart stuttered when that thumb paused.

Dark grey/turquoise eyes shifted back to him. Todoroki remained unreadable, sometimes able to be a calm sheen of ice- others an explosive force of passion and anger. "Like I kind-of said before, I wouldn't do this if you were inconveniencing me. I just wanted to do it."

You...wanted to touch me?

"Besides," he continued in a quieter tone, "you're the one who encouraged me to act like this. Embracing all aspects of myself and being more upfront with stuff."

Izuku felt the need to say something despite the dryness of his tongue. "I'm glad," he exhaled slowly, feeling as if he were talking robotically- heart going a million miles an hour. "Because it's nice. I uh, I really like it."

That's an understatement of the century.

Todoroki didn't say anything more, but his thumb resumed stroking the worry lines on Izuku's brow, smoothing them out. Izuku blinked, smiling a little. Lulled into a relaxed state, dark-green lashes drifted half-closed. They then shut completely, tension leaking out of his overworked body. Warm breaths evened out.

Unbeknownst to him, Todoroki set down his book and reclined slightly against the bench, gazing at Izuku's sleeping face before looking at high branches. He tilted his head back, appreciating the refreshing summer breeze and basking in the dappled sunlight that played over his face and the freckles of his long-time crush.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Shaw’s Creative Date

🍒 Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 创意之约, which has not been released in EN! 🍒

This date features S2 Shaw, but contains no spoilers for S2!

[ This date was released on 13 May 2021 ]

Removing the VR headset, I rub my slightly sore eyes. Seeing the familiar modern furniture leaves me in a momentary trance.

MC: I finally cleared it - this game about the ancient times is pretty immersive.

Aside from completing missions, the game also has a rich plot written in a classical literary style. As a “workshop apprentice”, I successfully created a string of wood carved persimmons.

Rotating my aching wrists, it’s as though the sensation of carving products is still lingering on my hands.

MC: It’s a shame that I could only do that in the game...

Just when I’m about to continue grumbling, my phone suddenly rings.

Tapping the answer button, a familiar voice drifts lazily to my ear.

Shaw: Not a sound from you even during the weekend. What are you up to?

MC: I just played an immersive game, and it’s pretty fun.

At the other end of the line, Shaw makes an “oh” sound, then continues asking.

Shaw: Are you planning to stay at home today?

MC: Mm. I finally finished a big program, so I’m pretty comfortable playing games at home.

Hearing my response, Shaw’s tone lifts slightly at the end.

Shaw: It’s just a game. You can play it anytime, can’t you? The weather outside is great. Staying at home is such a waste. Why not take a stroll outside?

My gaze sweeps over the VR headset. While I’m hesitating whether or not to agree, a thought suddenly flashes across my mind, and I have an idea. 

MC: Shaw, why don't you accompany me somewhere?

Shaw pauses for a moment, his subtle breathing drifting over the phone along with the electric currents.

Shaw: Where do you want to go?

MC: I’ll keep it a secret first. You’ll know when you get there. It’s definitely a place you wouldn’t expect.

Shaw chuckles softly, and he seems to stretch.

Shaw: All right. Since you invited me with such magnificent hospitality, I’ll reluctantly keep you company.

-

Soon after, the both of us stand at the entrance of a wood carving studio. Shaw tilts his head, looking me up and down.

Shaw: You sure we’re not at the wrong place?

I nod my head.

MC: How is it? I already said you definitely wouldn’t expect it. 

Shaw arches his brows, a somewhat surprised expression in his eyes.

Shaw: When did you get a new hobby?

Not giving Shaw a direct response, I lift my hand, raising my phone to his face. The picture on the screen features the string of wood carved persimmons I made in the game.

MC: Look at this string of persimmons. I carved it bit by bit in the game. Looks good, doesn’t it? I plan to carve a replica based on this later.

Shaw leans closer to give it a sweeping glance, his expression a little subtle.

Shaw: ...the object in the picture isn’t too bad. But do you like it that much that you must carve a string of persimmons?

MC: Don’t underestimate this small string of persimmons. Slow work yields fine products. The smaller something is, the more patience and carving skills are tested. Also, this is the first wood carving I made in the game. Furthermore, “everything will go according to one’s wishes” is a wonderful message and well-wish. Making it myself will feel very meaningful.

[Note] For the translation of “everything will go according to one’s wishes”, What MC says is “柿柿如意”, which is a pun based on the popular well-wish “事事如意” (“everything will go according to one’s wishes”)

“Persimmon” is 柿 (“shi”). “Everything” is 事事 (“shi shi”)

Shaw: But based on the level of complexity, you can’t make it without having a foundation in carving.

Predicting that Shaw would say this, I make a fist, lifting my head up confidently. 

MC: Don’t underestimate me. I think I’m naturally talented in handwork. If I can make it in the game, I might be able to in reality.

Hearing my “lofty aspirations”, the corners of Shaw’s lips hook upwards, and he elongates the tail of his sentence coolly.

Shaw: Fine, I’ll wait and see. 

-

Probably because it’s the lunch break, only the boss is in the shop.

After telling the boss my purpose in coming, he very quickly prepares the wooden block and burin, then comprehensively explains some matters I should take note of.

[Trivia] A burin (刻刀 - “ke dao”)  is a handheld steel tool used for carving metal or wood

MC: Draw a design first, then trace a copy onto the wooden block, then...

Hearing me mumble to myself, Shaw can’t help but arch his brows.

Shaw: It’s no use simply memorising the steps. You’ve got to get started to get the feel of it. 

...that make sense.

Very soon, I successfully draw a design based on the picture. However, I keep sensing that something’s missing when I look at the picture of the string of persimmons in my hand.

Darting a glance at Shaw, who occasionally looks at the drawing paper in my hand, I turn my body to the side, displaying the drawing paper in front of him.

MC: Shaw, didn’t you brag about being the “best in hand-drawn sketches” in your department? Want to take a look and make adjustments for me?

[Note] For those who are unaware, Shaw is the only graduate student in the archaeological department of Loveland University, so... of course he’s the best in everything LOL

Shaw’s brows arch slightly. Grabbing a pen on the table casually, he starts making amendments quickly.

Shaw: Done.

Unexpectedly, with just a few strokes, the fullness and lushness of the persimmons are outlined, and the entire picture instantly becomes much more vibrant.

Once all the preparatory work is done, the next step is to saw the sides of the wood carving. Placing the wooden block on the machine, I test out suitable positions.

All of a sudden, Shaw presses on my hand.

Shaw: Didn’t the boss mention that it’d be safer to place it a little beyond the peripheral line?

While saying this, he pulls on my wrist, causing the wooden block to shift to the side slightly. After verifying that it’s in the right place, he releases my hand.

Wood carving in real life is much more difficult than I imagined. The more I tell myself to be calm, the more my hands refuse to obey.

I take a deep breath - 

Shaw: Tch, aren’t you going a little too fast?

Right after he finishes speaking, my hand suddenly trembles, and I saw a small hole into the wooden block.

Shaw pauses for a few seconds, then bursts into laughter mercilessly.

He leans over, pointing at the small hole, his eyes gloating over my misfortune.

Shaw: Heh. Did someone take a bite out of the persimmon? It’s actually pretty creative.

Faced with Shaw’s mockery, I pout without saying anything. Then, I mimic his usual tone and glare at him.

MC: Why are you laughing so loudly? My hearing is good, okay.

Shaw casually props himself on the table with his elbows. He turns his head to the side and watches me, eyes filled with interest and a smile.

Perhaps because we’re too close in proximity, I seem to feel his warmth encasing my surroundings.

Smelling the scent of peppermint at the tip of my nose, I subconsciously turn away, muttering softly.

MC: Stop crowding over here... it’s a little warm.

The corners of Shaw’s eyes lift upwards slightly, and he sweeps a gaze over my face. He chuckles, sitting down on the chair behind in a wilful manner.

Not long after, I painstakingly saw the overall outer shape of the wooden block. After that, I start using a chisel to carefully craft the outline and thickness.

Probably because I’m unfamiliar with the techniques, the thickness of both sides of the wood carving are very different despite me putting in a lot of effort into correcting it.

I steal a glance at Shaw who is behind. After some hesitation, I clear my throat.

MC: Erm, could you help me with a little something?

Shaw loosens his shoulders.

Shaw: You want my help?

MC: Since you look like you don't have much to do, why not adjust the thickness of the outline with me?

Shaw doesn’t respond immediately. He folds his arms and leans against the wall, both legs placed casually.

Beneath the sunlight of the scorching afternoon sun, the corners of his lips tilt upwards, revealing a mischievous smile.

Shaw: Someone made a solemn vow earlier that she could do it by herself. So, in order for you to experience this fully, I refuse.

I don’t even spare Shaw half a glance after this, heart sinking as I lower my head in silence, focusing on the wood carving alone.

Perhaps grasping some tricks, my actions are gradually much more proficient than before, despite slow improvement.

The doors to the shop are suddenly pushed open. A parent walks in with a little boy.

The boss greets the new customers. Shaw suddenly lifts his arm and waves, walking over to the boss.

Shaw: Boss, give me a burin too.

Thinking that Shaw was suddenly “pricked by his conscience” and is planning to help, I lift my head to look at him in anticipation.

Unexpectedly, after getting the burin, Shaw picks up the leftover linden wood that I had sawed off earlier.

He stands near the window, lifting his hand leisurely. Against the light, that head of bluish purple hair is even more eye-catching.

Shaw: It’s boring to wait. I’ll try it with you, and give you some competitive motivation.

He reveals a confident smile, his tone not at all humble.

Shaw: I’ll also show you what it means to be “naturally talented”.

Shaw deliberately sits down at a table that’s further away from me.

Seeing that my gaze continues to linger on him, Shaw lifts his eyes, asking teasingly.

Shaw: Why are you staring at me?

MC: ...you already know the answer. Also, you’re pretending to be mysterious. What exactly do you plan to carve?

Shaw: You want to know? All the more reason not to tell you.

With this, he lowers his head, the tip of the pen making rustling sounds. He’s likely drawing a design on the rough paper.

Pursing my lips with a “hmph”, I decide to throw myself into crafting the wood carving.

Just as I strive to painstakingly carve the appearance of the wood carving, the little boy who accompanied his parent here seems to be restless.

He runs around the shop, and finally scuttles to Shaw’s side.

Little Boy: Big Bro, your hair’s really cool!

Shaw releases a “hmph”, paying no attention to the boy. But the little boy is fearless, and continues curiously.

Little Boy: Big Bro, what are you carving?

Unintentionally hearing this, I hurriedly perk up my ears, turning my body towards Shaw secretly.

Shaw glances at the boy from the side, placing the prototype wood carving on the table and leaning it from side to side.

Shaw: Make a guess.

The boy stares at it for a while, then exclaims excitedly.

Little Boy: I see it now - it’s a fish! Big Bro, did I guess correctly?

Shaw doesn’t deny it, revealing an expression which says “you’re pretty knowledgeable”.

Shaw: [aww he sounds so affectionate] Little Imp, your eyesight isn’t bad.

Little Boy: But why do you want to carve a fish?

The boy doesn’t seem to understand, and is also slightly disdainful.

Little Boy: Fishes are so unimpressive. If it were me, I’d carve a big tiger. It’s the king of all creatures, and it’s so impressive!

While the boy speaks, he chuckles in satisfaction.

Shaw laughs, then purses his lips.

Shaw: A wooden carved fish is much more interesting than your big tiger.

The boy has an expression on his face which reads “nonsense”. Shaw casts a sidelong glance at him, scoffing softly.

Shaw: Forget it. You wouldn't understand even if I told you.

Little Boy: Who says I wouldn’t understand? I’ve already learnt many things!

The boy grumbles in dissatisfaction, his arms akimbo, pestering Shaw unflinchingly.

I try my best to control the smile at the corners of my lips, and suddenly have an idea. Clearing my throat, I pretend to be a bystander, inserting myself into the conversation.

MC: What this little boy said is correct. Young man, you can’t look down on others just because you’re older by a few years.

Little Boy: Hmph! That’s right!

My “encouragement” enables the boy to be even less willing to back down, and he purses his small mouth.

Shaw: Oh?

Hearing my response, Shaw lifts his eyes, a mischievous smile curling the corners of his lips upwards.

Shaw: What is it? You also want to know?

MC: Since you started it, it’s only right for you to talk about it more.

Shaw: Since the both of you are pretty eager to learn, I’ll broaden your knowledge.

-

Next to the window, the rays of light are bright. Shaw arches his brows wilfully.

Shaw: To put it simply, this is related to the history of “fish culture”. Since ancient times, fish have represented auspicious signs and well-wishes.

Little Boy: I know about this! Is this how people wish each other “may you have abundance year after year”? I heard my teacher mentioning it before. It’s because “鱼” and “余” are homophonic!

[Note] The well-wish the boy is referring to is “年年有鱼”, which is a pun based on the proper saying “年年有余”

“Fish” is 鱼 (“yu”), while 余 (also “yu”) means abundance

Shaw: In that case, your teacher only told you half of it.

Shaw fiddles with the burin in his hand, spinning it casually.

Shaw: Fishes are an embodiment of luck. Patterns of fish can often be seen on antiques.

MC: What’s the origin of wooden carved fishes then?

Shaw pauses for a second before responding.

Shaw: Over seven thousand years ago, the most ancient wooden carved fishes were in the Hemudu culture. Based on conjectures, they were likely used for praying and well-wishes.

[Trivia] The Hemudu culture was a Neolithic culture spanning from 5500 BC to 3300 BC, located south of the Hangzhou Bay in Jiangnan in Zhejiang, China

Shaw speaks indifferently, but the boy listens at the side, his eyes wide.

Little Boy: Big Bro, you really know a lot! You’re even more incredible than my teacher!

The corners of Shaw’s lips hook upwards with pride.

Shaw: I guess so. Little Imp, remember to read more books and learn properly.

The boy runs away contentedly. My gaze lands on the wooden carving in Shaw’s hand that I can’t see quite clearly yet.

I didn’t expect the wooden carved fish to have the same symbolism as the string of persimmons. I tilt my head, feeling slightly emotional.

Time flows by as the seconds and minutes pass. Before realising it, the sky dims, and the studio lights are bright.

Swinging my hands which have almost lost all physical strength, I release a long sigh.

At the other side of the table, Shaw lifts his chin towards me.

Shaw: Progress isn’t going smoothly? 

Looking at the half-finished product with uneven contours next to my hand, I shake my head a little despondently. 

MC: Looks like I won’t be able to finish it today, and would have to come back next time. Also, the actual wood carving is light-years away from what I expected...

Hearing my soft grumbling at the end, Shaw arches his brows.

Shaw: Just by looking at it, the string of persimmons isn’t easy to make. But you dug this pit yourself, so I’ll wait and watch you fill it up.

Ignoring the teasing tone in his voice, I purse my lips.

MC: I definitely won’t give up. What about you? Are you done with the carving?

Shaw has an expression which reads “of course”, and he nods unhesitatingly.

Shaw: It was done a long time ago.

I’m stunned for a moment, both surprised and curious.

One hand supports Shaw’s cheek lightly. With a stretch of his long arm, the wooden carved fish is brought before my eyes.

This is a bright coloured wood carving of a fish. It has a roundish head and a chubby belly, and looks extremely adorable.

I lift up the wooden fish sculpture with both hands, as though instantly struck by its adorable shape.

Shaw: Excellent workmanship with profound symbolism. Your goal has been overtaken by me.

Behind the table, Shaw arches his brows in satisfaction, casually twisting the burin, his pose utterly flamboyant.

Even though his carving is indeed not bad, the moment I lift my eyes and see Shaw’s insuppressible pride, I can’t help but remain silent.

With the sudden impulse to sing a different tune, I deliberately purse my lips, speaking calmly.

MC: It’s just like this I guess. In terms of exquisiteness, I’d give a passing mark at most.

The smile on Shaw’s lips retracts slightly. While looking at me from the side, he releases a “hmph” from his nose.

Shaw: You have the nerve to criticise me? Why don’t you look at your own standard. Also, this is my exclusive design. It’s much more creative than you making a duplicate from the game.

Hearing the unwillingness to back down hidden in his tone, I can’t help but smile secretly.

Shaw glances at me indifferently. He seems to catch the secret smile on my lips, and an indiscernible light flashes across his eyes.

Shaw: Hey, shouldn’t you return it to me after touching it for half a day? You don’t like it anyway.

MC: Who says-

Almost making a slip of the tongue, I hurriedly change my words.

MC: Actually, on closer inspection, it seems that your carving is pretty okay.

Shaw: Just “okay”?

MC: ...I’ll add one mark for its symbolism and origin then.

Pleased with this, Shaw rolls his shoulders, chuckling softly.

Shaw: You still have some taste.

He crosses his leg over the other, his eyebrows suddenly furrowing. He seems to blurt out what’s in his mind.

Shaw: But the head of this fish seems a little too round... Hm, it’s a little irksome. Looks like I need to make some corrections.

MC: No it isn’t? It looks just right like this!

Afraid that Shaw would snatch it back, I hurriedly fold my hands over the wooden carving, and notice a hint of slyness in his eyes.

He leans closer abruptly, instantly closing the distance between us.

Shaw: Looking at your posture... What is it? Can’t bear to return it?

Specks of bright light reminiscent of daytime dance on Shaw’s bluish purple hair, outlining his expression and making it look even more triumphant.

I blink my eyes.

MC: Since you’re already done, I think I should observe it for a while longer, and have some “luck” rubbed off on me. I might even be able to quickly and successfully finish my wood carving too.

Shaw turns his head, the corners of his lips turning upwards relaxedly. A pondering smile surfaces in his bright eyes.

Shaw: You’ve got taste. If you really like it, it’s not that I can’t give it to you.

My heart stirs, eyes widening as I look at him. But I have the feeling that there should be a second half to his sentence.

Shaw leans back relaxedly, stretching casually.

Shaw: But I need to make up for the costs.

...just as I guessed.

Cradling the wooden carving in my hand, I lift my chin towards Shaw.

MC: Go on, what’s the “fee”?

Shaw lowers his head, pretending to deliberate for a few seconds. Then, he lifts his eyes, meeting mine.

Shaw: When you’re done with your wooden carving...

Shaw: It belongs to me. 

[Note] There are actually two ways one can interpret this line because it’s kept purposefully vague. It’s simply “归我”, which means “belong to me”. This means we can’t be sure if he’s asking for the wooden carving or MC herself :>

Shaw: How is it? Isn’t it very fair?

Light falls on the tips of Shaw’s hair, reflecting a bright and sly smile in his eyes.

Before I can react, he has already stood up.

Shaw: All right, that’s how it’d be.

🐟 Phone call: here

🐟 Support the cafe by dropping by the tip jar!

[nostalgiabones]

Fix It to Break It // L.H

So here is the first fic in my new Song Series, to celebrate 11,000 followers! I just want to say a huge thank you to everyone who reads any of my fics or blurbs and follows me on here, I appreciate it so much, and I’m so excited to share this series with you! I want everyone to be a part of this too, so if you have any songs you’d like me to write about, let me know!

Song: Fix It to Break It — Clinton Kane. Please listen to the song as you read! It really adds to the overall vibe of the fic, I think it’s such a beautiful song.

Word count: 2,539

“Remember that time I made you laugh?”

The air in the room feels thick and heavy as Luke lifts his head, his narrow eyes on you as you avoid his gaze. Your lounge, a place that was once filled with life and laughter, almost feels unrecognisable. His voice is gravelly, almost a whisper as he speaks, like the light inside of him no longer shines so bright. Your focus is on the ground, your mind silently counting the number of panels across the floor. Anything to distract from the current moment. You don’t want to face Luke. 

Things have changed. 

The house that you once called home feels like an empty shell of what once was there, and all that’s left is you and Luke to pick up the pieces of each other. 

“I would give in to hear that sound again.” He continues. There’s no emotion in his voice, like he has nothing left. There’s so much to say, yet so little - he doesn’t know where to start. Luke can’t bear to think back over the good times through fear of breaking down. It feels like it’s about to come to a head, like he can no longer keep it inside. There’s things that need to be said. 

You were once ‘that couple,’ the one that your friends always knew you’d become; a love so pure that others wanted to feel it. They’d ask you how you do it, but neither you or Luke ever had an answer. It was just easy. It worked. The love you felt for each other overcame everything else, and that’s all there was to it. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Luke.” You admit, still avoiding his eyes. 

You can feel him looking at you. He’s anxiously bouncing his knee, the sight catches your eye, and it’s not an uncommon one. He over thinks a lot. You don’t need to look at him to know how he’s feeling; the cogs are whirring in his head far too quick for even him to understand. 

Luke tries to contain his temper. There’s a lot that he wants you to say, a lot of explanations he feels he deserves. He doesn’t have it in him to get mad at you. It hurts too much. A promise he once made, that nothing is solved by shouting, not after you disclosed your painful childhood to him. As hurt as he is, he isn’t going to break that. There’s only one time he raised his voice at you, and he’ll never forget the pain in your eyes when you recoiled from him. It’s enough to haunt him into never speaking loudly to anyone again. 

He clears his throat.

“Things have changed,” He says, blankly, so matter-of-factly. “We’ve changed. I want you to admit that you feel it too.”

The two of you have been living in denial for too long.

Luke has woken up alone too many times. You’d slip out of bed early, blaming a morning appointment, but wouldn’t return until late afternoon. He can’t remember the last time he held you without you pushing away. There’s always a reason to not be around, always an excuse. He’d spent the whole tour wanting to be back in your arms, to feel his lips against yours. He’s been back for a month, and he still doesn’t feel like he’s home. 

“You were away for a long time, Luke,” You murmur, knowing that it’s going to hit a nerve with him. Tour was always a sensitive topic. You know he won’t get mad at you, though, he never does. It’s one of the things you love about him. “Six months. I got used to being alone. I can’t just go back to normal so quickly.

He pauses for a moment. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks, like he’s nervous to hear the answer.

He doesn’t get a moment to prepare for your response before you reply, “of course I did, Luke. Why would you ask me that?”

Your mind flashes back to when he was away, the late night calls when he needed to hear your voice. He couldn’t sleep without saying good night, despite what time it was where you were. Sometimes you didn’t pick up. Although, what Luke didn’t know, was that you needed to hear him just as much. It just hurt too much sometimes, to know it would be so long before you heard him in person again. 

“We’ve been through tours before,” He reminds you. “It’s never taken this long for us to adjust. You’re usually so excited for me to come home. It didn’t feel like that this time.”

When he’s been touring before, the thought of getting home to you was what kept him going. Whether you managed to make it to the airport or he met you at home, the smile on your lips accompanied with the relief of a “you’re home,” made his heart soar. He’d never felt so loved, so at home — nothing beat the feeling of waking up next to you the morning after getting home. The best sleep he ever had was the night he came home from being away for so long.

It’s a feeling he misses.

He’s been home for a month, and nothing feels the same. There’s been moments where he feels as though he’s been dreaming, whether he’s misremembering your relationship before he went on tour.

He doesn’t understand how things can change so quickly.

From falling asleep with you in his arms, to feeling like you’re miles apart in the bed. Even if you somehow untangled your legs from his own in your sleep, he would search for you, craving your skin to soothe his mind back to sleep. Now, he’s on edge, he lays in the dark staring at the wall until sleep manages to encompass him. He’s lucky if he sleeps through the night. 

There’s times where you sleep in the spare room, claiming you finished work too late, and didn’t want to disturb him. When really, it’s too much to be in the same bed as him, knowing that he’s hurting. You know you’re pushing him away, yet don’t know how to stop it. 

You just wanted to be able to breathe. 

“I just...” You sigh, brushing a hand through your hair as you slump back into the sofa. “I don’t know what to tell you. What do you want me to do?”

Luke wants to scream. He wants to tell you that he loves you, that he wants you to love him too. He knows you used to. He’s not sure you do anymore. He can’t remember the last time you told him sincerely. He still remembers the first time he told you he loved you, how even though it took you a minute to say it back, he knew you meant it. He saw it in your eyes. Now he says “I love you” and you reply “you too” — it doesn’t feel the same. Just like everything else doesn’t. 

It’s the little things he misses the most. He misses talking to you, feeling connected, and just doing nothing together. He likes the reassurance of having someone around. He’s never been one to enjoy his own company, especially not after a tour, even if all you do is sit on your phones in silence. You used to put out his coffee cup in the morning, and he remembers when you stopped. He misses you singing quietly in the shower, when you think he can’t hear you. He can. And it makes his mornings that little bit brighter. He misses the sound of your laugh when you watch a repeat of a sitcom you’ve seen a hundred times.

It’s the little things that make him feel loved. 

“I want you to love me like you say you do,” Luke says, as firmly as he can without his voice breaking. “I don’t want to have to remind you to love me. I shouldn’t have to do that.”

He thinks it’s unfair for you to blame him.

Tears well in your eyes at his words, the pain in his voice like a dagger through your heart as you listen to him speak. “You know that I love you, Luke.”

“No I don’t.” He replies. He’s just being honest. “You used to. I don’t know if-”

“I do.” You cut him off, not wanting to hear the end of the sentence. It makes sense that he doesn’t feel it anymore, as much as you don’t want to admit it. You’ve pushed him away. “You know the moment I fell in love with you. I didn’t lie when I said I’ve never loved someone like I love you. That doesn’t just go away.”

He does know the moment you’re talking about. It was one of the first times he took you home to Australia, to meet his family, when you saw just how loving and gentle he is. The way he loves his family is like nothing you’ve ever seen. He has the biggest heart. He glowed different that weekend; his Mum saw it too, she told you.

Everything felt like it had fallen into place. 

You were in his childhood bedroom, just having a moment to yourselves, when he had kissed you like nothing else mattered, in that moment. You felt immersed by him, like you were meant to be there with him. Where you had murmured the words “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that? I’ve never felt love like this before.” and he swore he’d never love anybody else either. 

Those days feel like a distant memory now. 

“I got too used to you not being here.” You continue to explain. Six months is a long time. You threw yourself into work, into anything but thinking about how much you missed him. Maybe too much, because now you’ve forgotten how things once were. “I’m not blaming this on you, Luke. I know that touring means the world to you. I just had to stop myself from sitting around and waiting for you to come home.” 

It’s not the first relationship Luke’s damaged by being away. It’s a common theme in his life, actually, but he’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. The band comes first. Yet he’s not sure he can do this again. 

“I feel like I’ve lost you.” He admits, and now it’s his turn to tear up. There’s a lump in his throat, you can hear it in his voice. “I wanted to have this conversation for weeks now. I didn’t know if I was just making it up, that things felt so different, but they do. And I don’t know how to fix it.”

You dare to look in his direction. You find his eyes, the usual sparkling blue now dulled by the pain behind them, and it’s then you remember why you were looking away. 

“I think we need to find each other again,” You admit, quietly. Easier said than done. You suddenly feel the desire to get up and sit next to him, to be close to him. It’s like he knows, like he can read your mind, and he shuffles up on the sofa to make space. You sigh heavily, your body feeling like dead weight as your feet carry you across the room. You’re almost nervous to sit next to him. “I don’t know how we do that. But we need to try.”

We. Something Luke feels like you haven’t been for a while. 

“I need more.” Luke tells you. He needs more love, more affection, more conversation… more everything. He wants to feel like he’s in a relationship again. He wants to feel the love you say you have for him. He wants to feel like he’s enough for you. “I can’t go on like this. You’re worth the pain if you want to try and make this work. I just want to feel like we mean something to each other again.”

You feel like you’re lost in a crowd somewhere, or floating in the ocean, drifting further apart. Except maybe now is the time that you find each other again. 

“Look at me, Luke.” You murmur, moving even closer, your hand resting on his shaking thigh to calm him down. You hear him inhale, exhale, and his eyes finally meet yours. Your voice is merely a whisper as you talk to him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I love you so much that sometimes it hurts.”

Luke feels like he could break down on the spot when he finally looks you in the eye. It takes him back to every moment where he’s felt consumed by you, and for just a moment, he thinks that somehow, things might end up okay. 

“I need to know that you’re in this for the long run.” He tells you, his eyes pleading with you more than his words are. “I’m always going to go on tour. I don’t want to go through this every time I come home. I can’t do this again.”

You nod, and your hand runs up and down his thigh in a soothing gesture. 

“I’m right here,” You reassure him, your hand cupping his cheek as your thumb rubs over his cheekbones. For the first time in weeks, he feels like he can breathe, he feels safer than he thought he could in his house. “I know I haven’t been. And I know I have a lot of making up to do. But I’m going to be around to get us through this.”

Those are the words he’s longed to hear for weeks. You sit in silence for a few moments, just absorbing the conversation - just being in each other’s presence. 

“That’s enough talking for now.” Luke whispers. He lays back against the cushions of the sofa, holding his arm out for you to lay against him. You oblige, sighing as you lay against his chest, the material of his jumper soft against your cheek. It’s like everything has stopped, like everything feels right once again. It feels like he hasn’t done this for months. Silently, he takes one hand to tilt your chin so your face is right in front of his. There’s pain in your eyes too, he can see it. His nose gently taps yours, and you move your face closer, before he’s brushing his lips against yours. 

And then he’s kissing you.

It’s a real kiss, one that has meaning, feelings, more than anything he’s felt in weeks. The only affection he’d had for weeks was a passing kiss in the morning, sometimes before bed, but it didn’t feel like this. Your lips are soft yet slightly chapped; he tries to savour every detail. He just wants to feel close to you. His kisses taper off and he’s sighing contently, unsure where you’re going to go next, but feeling safer than he has for a while. 

“Maybe we just had to break to be fixed.” 

Things are far from perfect. Weeks of pain cannot be solved by one kiss. Yet you’re going to try, and that’s all Luke needs to know. You just need to find each other again.

***

Please please let me know what you think, and if you have any requests for songs you want me to write about! Thanks for reading 🥰

Masterlist

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[wiypt-writes]

Real Life Tasks With Ransom Drysdale

An Advent Calendar of 24 Normal Human Tasks As Performed By A Huge Man Baby.  Day 4: Pink To Make The Boys Wink

Warnings: Bad Language words, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N:  So this all came about as myself, Sweater and Jenn saw a post about Ransom doing everyday things…and yeah, it kinda spiralled. The series will consists of one-shots and drabbles, all light hearted…and the occasional little bit of smut thrown in for your pleasure and we hope a nice countdown to Christmas after what has been an utter shit-show of a year.

We hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist. 

The bedroom was full of sinful moans and groans, and the debauched sound of skin slapping on skin as Ransom’s hands curled around your hips, pulling you down onto him, thrusting upwards to meet you.

“That’s it, Princess.” he panted, your head falling back in a groan as a deliciously hard thrust hit you right on your spot. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“So good, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged and he suddenly sat up, drawing a gasp and a strangled cry from your mouth as his hands curled round your back, holding you to him as much as he could, his legs bent, feet planted firmly on the mattress. One hand slid up your spine and gripped the back of your neck, pulling you down for a filthy kiss as his hips continued pistoning up into you. You felt the heat beginning to rise in the low pit of your belly, the familiar sensation spreading between your legs and you moaned into his mouth.

“Ransom, I’m gonna…” your hands scrabbled at his back, nails digging into his smooth, taught skin as you groaned again, the coil in your belly reaching snapping point.

“Yeah, baby, come on my cock.” He growled, his teeth nipping at your ear. “Fuck you feel so good!”

With a final loud cry, you tipped your head back as you came, hard, Ransom’s hands gripping once more on your hips as he pulled you down harder, picking up the pace racing to his end. His hips jerked, his legs twitched and his head dropped forward to your shoulder, biting down gently as he let out a groan before he stilled completely, his chest heaving. Your hands danced up his back, sliding into his hair before he pulled away and placed a soft kiss to your mouth.

“Quick enough for you?” he smirked and you scoffed, slapping his shoulder slightly as he fell backwards, tugging you with him, pivoting so you were led on your side, his cock softening inside you.

“You’re such a dick.” You said as he kissed the top of your nose.

“You love my dick.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, and my love of your dick is what got us into this.” You said, your hand taking his and pressing it to your bump. His eyes lit up, the way the always did when he felt your swollen belly. You knew it stoked his ego, knowing that he’d knocked you up, marked you from the inside as his, the evidence that you belong to he him in every single damned way right there for everyone to see.

“Well I would say I’m sorry but that would be a total lie.” He said, and with a shift of his hips he pulled out of you and rolled onto his back, his hands reaching up and locking behind his head. “What time are you meeting your mom?”

“An hour.” You said, “I should shower and stick the laundry on before I go.”

“I’ll do it, the laundry that is.” He offered, “Although I could also shower if you wanted “he added, with a wiggle of his eyebrow.

“You think you can manage it this time, without shrinking anything?” You asked, your hand resting on your bump.

“Yup.” He popped the P “Especially now you stuck the instructions to the front of the machine.”

“Always better to play it safe.” You smiled “Besides, you shrink another of your sweaters I’m gonna have nothing to wear.”

“I shrank one. And maybe you could try wearing your own clothes.”

“Baby prefers yours.” You shrugged, before you heaved yourself out of bed and padded into the en-suite. You paused and turned to face him, your naked body on full show and his eyes darkened a little as you bit your lip “Thought you wanted to shower.”

In a flash he was out of bed and stalking towards you, causing you to giggle as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind him.

***** Whites, brights, darks…

Ransom nodded to the three piles on the floor in the laundry room and shoved the whites into the machine first, dutifully following the instructions taped to the machine. Once it was on, he headed back into the kitchen deciding that he deserved a break. Fucking his wife all the way to heaven within ten minutes flat, not to mention the after party in the shower, plus then sorting washing, loading the machine and turning it on was tiring work after all.

He made himself a coffee before he headed back into the lounge and settled down with the laptop, checking the latest Newsletter from the Country Club before he ran down the training schedule for the Polo Team that month, checking when his time slots where, not that it really mattered. If he didn’t particularly like a slot he’d been given he’d just kick off until they swapped it for one he did like. Perks of being the star of the team, you got your own way…

He smirked a little as he could hear Y/N’s voice echoing in his head “Story of your life, you’re such a fuckin’ brat.”

Like he gave a shit.

His phone went off, signalling he had a text and he rolled his eyes as he saw it was from his mother, asking if she could expect him and Y/N for dinner that Sunday. Typing out a single word response- “no,”- he dropped the phone back onto the coffee table as he continued his reading, the TV fixed on some trashy talk show in the background.

He was surprised when the beeping of the machine telling him the cycle had finished hit his ears, and as he glanced at the clock he arched an eyebrow. He’d been that immersed in researching up on the youngest age kids seemed to be able to play polo, and where he could find a decent kids team, that he’d managed to actually while away almost two hours. He placed the laptop down on the couch and headed through to the laundry room, grabbing the basket from the side. Bending down, he pulled open the machined door and began to unload the items into the basket.

It wasn’t until he pulled out Y/N’s white Armani maternity dungarees that he realised something had gone horribly wrong.

“What the…” he straightened up, holding the expensive denim item up in front of him, squinting as he did so.

It looked pink!

Deciding it was the light in the room he walked into the kitchen and cursed loudly as they looked even pinker in the brighter room. He stalked back into the laundry room and began to remove the rest of the washing, and to his dismay it was all the same. His riding britches, 2 of her blouses, a few bras, panties, boxers, 2 of his dress shits, his thermal ribbed undershirt, several t-shirts, a polo shirt…

All. Fucking. Pink.

And more to the point, it had all definitely been white when he’d put it in.

Growling in frustration he tipped the washing out onto the floor and there it was, the culprit. One of Y/N’s thongs, a bright red one, poking out of the pocket of his white-now-pink corduroy trousers that he’d worn to the Fall Gala at the Country Club.

Fuck, he had totally forgotten they were in there after he’d kept them when he’d fucked Y/N in the cloak room. Unable to wait until he got her home as the sight of her in that little black dress, baby bump on show had driven him wild, he’d dragged her off for a dirty little rendezvous, and had ended up snapping the elastic around the waistband meaning they were totally useless. She’d been pissed when she realised and had to spend the rest of the night with nothing on…of course, at the time it had been a great source of amusement to him.

Now, well not so much.

He contemplated googling how to fix this, before he decided that he simply couldn’t be fucking bothered. It would likely involve some complicated soaking routine and frankly he had better things to be doing with his time.

Like researching…important…stuff. Man stuff. Man stuff for him and his baby boy.

Nonchalantly, he tossed the ruined items into the basket and set it on top of the machine with a shrug. He’d buy her some new stuff. And if she went ballistic at him over it all, then he’d just have to remind her that it was her fault her thong was in his pocket in the first place, the dirty little minx.

[lovestrucked-again]

Delirium II | Mafia

Summary: After being kidnapped and claimed by the notorious mafia leader, he offers you a 7 day period where you’ll be given the option after of staying or leaving. Until then, you’re stuck, whether you like it or not.

Pairing: Mafia leader X female reader Word count: 2.9k

Genre & Warning: SMUT, fingering, Explicit content, kidnapping, mafia gang, possessive, toxic, yandere like personality, punishment, use of sex toys, multiple orgasms, rough, orgasm denial, begging, orgasm control, praise, teasing, 

Please don’t read this if you’re uncomfortable. A very obvious statement but this series is purely fictional, it is unacceptable in real life and should not be taken lightly.

Part 1 | Part 3

Day 2

When you wake up, the sticky feeling from between your thighs is gone. Your body is still bare but the sheet wrapped around you is enough to keep you warm. With the morning light shining through the windows, your finally able to look around the room. You sit up against the headboard, noticing the pain in your thighs as you drag them up. The room is simply decorated. The walls a dull shade of white with a neat desk in the corner. A few plants littering around the room, giving it colour.

The sound of the door opening brings your attention over to the person entering, your hands quickly bringing the sheets to cover your top half. Taeyong walks in, dressed in a white shirt and shorts, clearly having already showered.

“I made you breakfast. I know it’s just a bowl of cereal, but it’s the only thing I won’t burn.” He tells you, taking a seat beside you on the bed. His piercing eyes from the night before now soft and rounded.

“Thanks.” You mumble, bringing your arms out of the sheet to grab the bowl from him gratefully.

Taeyong smiles at you, the silence seeming strangely comfortable. You couldn't tell what this man was thinking. When you first met him, he looked at you like you were something delicate, the way he carefully approached you, pushed your hair behind your ears. Then last night happened, not that you didn’t enjoy the sex, but it was ….terrifying. You didn't realise his personality could change so drastically in just the little time you’d known him.

“Hey baby, I hope you don't mind wearing one of my shirts for now. I got one of the guys to bring your clothes from your place for you.”

“My clothes?” You question, confused.

“Yeah.”

“Why are you bringing them here?”

“Because your moving in with me.” He states, bringing one of your hands to his lap.

“Wh-what?!” You stutter out.

“It’ll be fun.”

“Wait no, I can’t.” You shake your head violently, “I won’t.”

“Baby I wasn't really giving you a choice on that.” He warns, his voice suddenly low.

“Look, I don't know if you’re okay or if you need some help but I’m not moving in with you, I don't even know you!” You tell him, your voice rising with your words, not finding his jokes amusing, “I don’t even know your name for fucks sake.”

“Baby don't swear; I don't like it.” He murmurs, his hand stroking circular motions on the back of your palm soothingly, “And my name’s Taeyong.”

“I won’t tell anyone about last night,” You whisper desperately, “just let me go.”

Taeyong lets the thought swim around in his head for a bit. Truth be told, he was going to have you no matter what, but perhaps you’d give him a little more liking if he lied.

“How about you move in with me for just a week, if you really hate me then you can leave.” He proposes.

“I’ll leave when I want,” you tell him, getting ready to pull off the bed sheets still covering your naked body, ready to leave exposed if you have to. Taeyong is quick to stop you, only needing to grip onto your wrist harshly to prevent you from moving.

“Baby, I gave you an offer, you can take it or decline it.” He cautions, “I didn't say you could bargain with me.”

His dark eyes are drilled into yours. And you can’t help but notice, the depth of the ink, sorrow, perhaps pain, that was hiding behind them. You couldn't see the whites of his eyes anymore, nor the vessels that flowed through them. He looked, frightening.

“I-I’ll take the offer.” You stutter out. His gaze makes you gulp, suddenly losing the attitude you originally had. You decide to just follow through with his words for now, you could always leave when he wasn’t around.

“Great well, let’s take you around the house for now.” He chimes, eyes instantly switching back as he happily grabs your untouched bowl, putting it on the bedside table. He walks over to his cupboard, pulling out a plain black t-shirt and brings it over to you, helping you slip it on.

“Lift your arms up baby.”

“I can do it myself,” You tell him, feeling embarrassed to let the sheets fall and your body expose itself to his eyes.

“Let me.” He pleads, his right hand taking yours and locking his fingers with yours. You let out a sigh, and you nod, wanting to hide under the sheets in a sheepish mess. Surprisingly he doesn't say anything as your breasts reveal themselves out of the sheets. His eyes are still trained on you, helping you slip the fabric over your head.

“Thanks,” You whisper, feeling flushed under his eyes. He laughs lightly, noticing the red in your face. He cups your cheeks and gently squeezes your face before pecking your lips.

“Wow don’t you just look adorable.” He exclaims, drawing out the last syllable. For some reason all his words and gestures only confuse you, strangely feeling like you were already use to his presence, his touch.

The fabric of his shirt reaches below your thigh, better than nothing. He peels back the bed sheet, giving you a hand to help you off the bed. You stumble a little, the sudden weight on your weaker legs unable to withstand the pain. Taeyong snakes an arm around your waist to support you just as you trip, already prepared to catch you.

The memories of the earlier event vanish as soon as you step outside his room. Who would’ve known the door would lead to such a large open, spacious area with a breath-taking view of your city. A huge flat-screen television dominated one wall, with a soft leather couch directly in line. However, it was the transparency of the windows that surprised you.

Your feet began walking to the glass, Taeyong following beside you. You must’ve been on the top floor of whatever building you were in. The faint outlines of people on the road, the entire view of the city in your sight.

“Wow.” You breathed out.

“Still don't want to live with me?” He whispers, moving to stand behind you so he’s able to envelop you around your waist. His head rests against your shoulder as you both stare out at the city, the sunlight shining on your skin.

“Who are you?” You mumble out-loud. You had no idea what was going on anymore. Who was this guy? How could he afford this place? What had happened in such a short time was over-whelming. The butterflies return to you as his hands lock around your stomach.

“Someone whose absolutely in love with you.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your neck.

You pull away quickly, the words swimming through your mind at a rapid pace. Taeyong takes a step back, letting you have some space to yourself as he walks over to his couch.

“What do you normally watch at home?” He asks, reaching for the remote and changing it to a netflix channel. You’re still lost in your thoughts when he calls again, “Baby?”

“I-I don't mind.”

“Okay, I’ll choose something then,” he replies, deciding between the first or second movie of Despicable Me.

You break your gaze from the city and turn around to look at him, “I didn't take you for a kid’s movie type.”

“It’s a cute movie.” He shrugs, patting the empty side of the couch beside him.

You sit down beside him, leaving a clear distinct line between the two of you to avoid being right next to him. You’re aware of the minimal clothing you’re wearing (only one of his shirts) so you keep your legs crossed on the couch, pulling the fabric down to cover as much as possible.

As the movie plays you can finally feel like you’re relaxing, immersed in the childish scenes playing out as both of you laugh. It feels comfortable.

You didn't have many friends, only receiving a few texts and calls from them once in a while to talk about their own love life. You were mainly focused on your education, barely taking any social time to explore. The one night you did, bought you here. You had gone for a blind date set up by your college friend and you agreed reluctantly. The guy was a jerk, leaving you alone in the middle of a dark street as he receives a call from his ex, clearly not over her.

That was just a few minutes before you had run into Jaehyun killing a man. And seconds later, you were bought here. To Taeyong.

Around 30minutes in your legs start cramping suddenly, most likely from sitting cross legged the whole time. Taeyong notices you shift in your seat, your hands massaging your lower calves.

“Put your legs up, you need to stretch them.” He tells you, patting his legs for you to swing them over.

You hesitate for a minute, but his expression’s sincere, “Thanks.”

You place your legs on his lap, finally stretching them out and Taeyong starts massaging your calf for you. “Is it this leg?" He asks, bringing your left leg closer to him.

“Yeah.” Taeyong wraps an arm around your legs, keeping you there as he adjusts himself, sitting comfortably. Your hands hold onto the hem of your current shirt, making sure it doesn't move.

As the movie’s almost finishing, your cramps have subsided. You realise Taeyong had continued to massage your leg, using less pressure throughout the movie. As you’re staring at his soft features, still mesmerised by the little minions on the TV, your brought back into reality.

“Taeyong?”

“Yes baby?” He replies, eyes still drawn to the movie.

“Why am I here?”

He reaches for the TV remote, pausing the movie, his focus now on you. “What do you mean?” He asks.

“Why didn’t you let me go?”

“Because I like you.”  

“You don't know me.” You sigh, exasperated at his response.

“I don't know you? Are you sure about that baby?” He asks, amused at your question.

“I’ve been here for what? Maybe less than a day? Of course you don't know me!” You tell him, stating the obvious.

“Baby I do know you though,” He says, smiling smugly, “I know how to make you scream, I know how to make you beg for a fucking, I know -.”

“Fuck off Taeyong.” You growl, his arrogant attitude annoying you again.  

“What did I say about swearing.” He tsks, pulling your body closer to him by tugging on your legs. Your shirt rides up as he drags you, nearly revealing your ass.

“Don't touch me.” You warn, snarling back at him, as you move back to your side of the couch, bringing your legs back to your body.

“That’s not very nice.”

“What’s with you and your crappy attitude Taeyong? One minute your soft and kind, the next you’re like some arrogant lit-.”

“Baby I suggest you reconsider that sentence.” He grins, relaxed and confident as he moves closer, his hands gripping onto your exposed thigh.

“Arrogant little bastard.” You finish.

Taeyong lets out a low chuckle, his eyes flipping a visible switch as he stands up and picks you up easily, throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a squeal in surprise, slapping him on the back as you shriek.

He kicks open his bedroom door, throwing you onto the bed as you land with a soft thud. Before your able to grasp the situation, he opens the drawer from the bedside table slipping the small gold key from around his neck off, he unlocks the case of a square box. The lid flips open and he brings something out of the case. Your neck is craned in the direction, watching his fast movements.

"What are you doing?" You ask, sitting up immediately when you see the item. Taeyong reveals a large, egg-shaped object with a faint string (unnoticeable to you) coming out of it. “Punishing you.”

“What is that?” You gasp, seeing the shape of it.

Your unable to see it properly as he turns around, pulling you by your ankles as you fall back against the mattress. He grabs your thighs tightly, pushing them apart. "You're dripping, baby. I can see your juices running out of you already.”

“What? No I’m not.” You argue, feeling insulted at his statement.

The shirt now no longer covering your thighs lets you feel the air of the ceiling fan spinning above you. Taeyong’s eyes staring right at your exposed pussy. You see him lean forward, bringing the object in his hand closer to your thighs.

You tense and brace yourself, expecting him to shove it in, but the hard shove doesn't come. Instead, he presses gently, rolling the probe back and forth in tiny motions. His other hand slips between your legs as his fingers stroke your pussy and you let out a loud moan.

Eventually, he slips it inside of you, pushing it completely in and leaving only a thin string hanging. The shock paralyses you for a second, as you feel yourself engulfing it whole. Then you shriek and burst into tears as he turns a wheel on a small remote. The vibrator comes to life, buzzing inside you.

“Oh my god Taeyong!” You scream, your hands travelling everywhere, bundling in the sheets and clawing at your own thighs. You squeeze your thighs shut involuntarily and it only causes the vibrations to intensify, bringing a soft moan from your mouth. Taeyong stands up from the bed, pulling up his reading chair next to the bed. He sits down, adjusting the chair for the best view, and watches you write against the bedsheets.

“Ta-take it out.” You groan. He leans back in the chair, smiling, watching you struggle. You thrust your hips in the air, trying to dislodge the buzzing toy; but from his point of view, it looks like you’re fucking an invisible partner. You writhe and twist, as he turns up the speed and power of the vibrator.

“Ju-just fuck me,” You stutter out in a moaning mess, desperate for him.

“What was that baby?” He asks, genuinely surprised at your sudden confession. He turns the dial down for you to repeat yourself, but not completely off.

“Ta-take it out and just fuck me.” “Not right now baby.” He smiles and laughs, leaning back again as he switches it back to high.

The vibrations inside you continue relentlessly as your body grows weak with exhaustion. You clench involuntarily around the hard, smooth object as the vibrations become tingles in your belly.

Taeyong watches. Little by little, the tingle becomes stronger. The thing inside you thrums, fanning the desire into a sense of raging, desperate need. You sigh and moan as your hips rock up and down.

"Good girl. Take it." Taeyong murmurs, moving beside you now to let his one finger part your folds. You let out a gasp as he finds your clit. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

“Y-yes.”

He moves his finger in circle motions against you as the constant buzz chips away inside of you. Soon your hips were rocking again, your head thrown back in a whining mess as he presses harder against your clit. You whimper wordlessly and grind your hips against his finger. "Please...please..." The need consumes you. Your body left on fire as all you can think of is nothing but the vibration inside. You clench and thrust your hips upward.

Taeyong grabs the cord, pulling the vibrator out of you with a single rough tug. The tingle abruptly stops and replaces you with emptiness, tinged with desperation. You felt wetness roll down your thigh, and you pushed your hips back, frantic, longing to feel something inside again but finding only empty air.

He replaces it with his fingers, pushing them roughly inside of you at a savage pace. You let out a loud sob. “You love this, don't you?” He chuckles, continuing his thrusts. "You still need more, don't you, little slut? You can't get enough." He picks up the egg-shaped vibrator again. "Let's see if this does the trick." Without preamble, he shoves it roughly inside your lips, watching it disappear. You gasp and shake as he turns it on to its maximum setting for the first time, letting it resume the hard, insistent vibrations.

Your orgasm comes, ripping through your body like molten fire, and as you clench and tighten, pain lashes through you, too.

When it’s s over, you crash back to earth in a shock. Taeyong turns off the vibrator, pulling it from you with a slurping sound. You make a weak mewling noise as it finally leaves your weakened body. He sits on the side of the bed and pulls you onto his lap; your body curling up around him in instinct as he strokes your hair.

“You did well baby. So well.” he murmurs. Finally, some small amount of strength flows back into you. You open your eyes and look up at him, able to speak at last. "What was that for?" He brushes a stray hair away from your eyes, and looks down at you. "Because you swore again." He smiles.

[writing-in-april]

Solaris

Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

This is vaguely inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins part 9 of Here To Misbehave - go check it out it’s amazing!

Warnings- NSFW, public sex, oral sex (male receiving), fingering, swearing

A/N- There are real quotes from the movie in here but may not be in cinematic order, I got them from a quote website. Also the real Solaris movie is not 5 hours and is 166 minutes (it just feels ridiculously long).   

Masterlist

 Italics are Spencer’s translations.                                      

Spencer and I rarely had a chance to have date nights, because of our jobs we usually grabbed every spare little moment. Usually that resulted in spur of the moment 15 minute dates when we finally had some alone time away from the team. Luckily for our stressed out minds Hotch had finally put his foot down on letting the team have some vacation time. I still am not sure how he got Strauss to agree to a two week vacation.

The two of us now had two weeks to do whatever we wanted, so we agreed to a plan, Spencer would plan the first week and I would do the next. He had been tight lipped about all of his plans until we made our way to the car and he finally broke. He confessed that we were going to see an old film he loved- a Russian film to be exact from 1972 called Solaris.

Spencer always planned out the quirkiest dates, while most people would be put off by movies that I couldn’t even understand or bookstores that were filled with academic books, it made him even more special in my eyes. During the entire ride to the cinema he gave me various facts about this obnoxiously long movie we were about to see (5 hours to be exact), letting me in on all the knowledge he kept up in his gorgeous brain.

“Did you know that the film was written Andrei Tarkovsky and Fridrikh Gorenshtein to attempt to give sci-fi films more emotional depth? They viewed western works in the genre as shallow due to their focus on technological inventions.”  He rambled out at impressive speed as we pulled up to the small rundown cinema. Spencer often planned out dates here because they willingly showed foreign and obscure indie films, which he found more appealing over mainstream blockbusters. Plus the yellow tinged cinema lights and old time ticket booths gave off a vintage vibe that we both reveled in.

We made our way up to the ticket booth, my heels making Spencer slow his lanky strides significantly. I could tell he really wanted to sprint to get inside as quick as possible, he hadn’t seen this film in forever and it was one of his favorites. We finally reached the gate where a obviously bored teenage worker took our money and seemingly rolled his eyes at the movie we said we were watching. To a teenager what kind of couple would consider an old Russian film as a romantic movie. We grabbed our tickets, egregiously priced soda and a large popcorn that was probably going to be confiscated by Spencer halfway through the movie.

The theatre was completely empty, not surprising considering how obscure the film was. Spencer picked out seats right in the middle which gave us the best view of the large screen. I sat down in the plush red velvet vintage seats plopping down my soda into the cup holder and letting myself get comfortable. Spencer sat to the left of me already claiming the popcorn for himself as we snuggled up to prepare for the 5 hour movie we were about to watch.

The film started right on time, there weren’t any commercials (for once) and Spencer leaned in close to me to begin translating the film once he realized there were no subtitles. He seemed almost giddy to translate every word that I was undoubtedly missing that I was sincerely glad that the theatre hadn’t turned on subtitles. I loved seeing Spencer happy over quirky things. Though instead of being focused on the translations my mind fixated on how seductive the situation was.

I wondered if he knew what he was doing to me, his lips were a ghost around the shell of my ear as he quietly translated the Russian film. He always carted around an innocent persona wherever he went, not letting it get sullied by his work or the countless amounts of books he read.

“You're human. Each in your own way. That's why you argue."

I could feel the wetness steadily pooling in my panties as he continued to speak, being blissfully ignorant of the naughty thoughts running rampant in my head. Only he could make a sci-fi movie from the 70s about fictional planets sound sexy.

“Who was it? She died 10 years ago." 

“What you saw was the materialization of your conception of her.”

“Incidentally, consider yourself lucky. After all she's part of your past. What if it had been something you had never seen before, but something you had thought or imagined."

His endearing innocence was almost painful, I knew he was missing the cues of my flushed cheeks, wriggling thighs, and heavy breathing. It wasn’t like we weren’t intimate as a couple but even when he was dominate I was usually the one to initiate sex. He always told me that even though we had been together for a long time he got caught up in the fact that someone wanted to fuck him. That conversation usually turned into me showing him how much I fucking loved him and how he could be shy just not insecure in our relationship.

I decided that I would have to be the one tonight to coax him into doing something in public. I had confessed before that It was one of my kinks but this would be the first time I would attempt to do it with him.

I grabbed his hand that was situated on my upper thigh and slowly dragged it up the coarse fabric of my jean shorts. Once his nimble fingers caught on the button Spencer’s brain restarted and he pulled away slightly in protest. He was feebly trying to pretend that the idea of fingering his girlfriend in a theatre wasn’t the hottest thing in the world.

“W-we shh-ouldn’t be doing this y/n!!!!” He whisper shouted at me meekly. I gripped his hand harder keeping it in position as my other hand undid the button of my shorts.

“If you’re really uncomfortable I’ll stop, but I just find the idea of doing something so risqué exciting. Don’t you?” I shot right back at him with a coy smile and I knew I had him right where I wanted him. He still looked hesitant but started to move his hand under my shorts on his own. I gasped quietly as his fingers bypassed my shorts and snuck right under my panties. His full attention was on me now totally forgetting his previous job of translating the film for me. He finally breached my folds feeling just how wet he had gotten me just from translating an obscure Russian film.

“See how wet I am Spence? It’s all for you.” I purred, grinding my hips onto his hand to try and gain some delicious friction. He seemed to be in a trance his only goal to please me, his gorgeous fingers started to circle around my entrance teasing me ever so slightly.

“Spencer stop teasing if you aren’t prepared to be punished” My threat got through to him and he slowly entered his middle finger making me quietly moan out. I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a heated kiss to muffle my moans. The kiss was all tongue and teeth as he curled his finger to hit my g-spot which made me gasp into his mouth.

“More Spence-“

He thankfully listened to my plead and added another finger, my walls stretched around them giving me pain added with pleasure. To give me even more stimulation his thumb found my clit running in tight circles. I was approaching my orgasm almost embarrassingly quickly, Spencer knew my body better then I did at this point. Both of my hands pulled at his hair trying to force him as close as possible to my body. I screwed my eyes shut as I was shoved off the proverbial cliff. I could hear the faint sounds of Russian scientists from the film in the background which only added to the high, the idea of getting caught just made it so much better.

Spencer continued to stimulate my clit until I rode out my high, he then turned back to the film. He was trying to hide the fact that he was rock hard from watching me fall apart in a matter of minutes on his fingers. An evil idea snuck inside my brain, he had given me an orgasm but I wasn’t done with him yet. After I had recovered My hand moved over from my lap and gripped his thigh mimicking his earlier position. He hadn’t started translating the film again and was uncharacteristically silent. I waited for a few minutes before I enacted my plan the only thing I was doing was slowly inching my hand up his thigh.

“Start translating the film again pretty boy” I whispered while pawing at the button on his pants, I wanted to repay the favor of a mind blowing orgasm. He looked at me with slight hesitation when I dropped down to the floor but he was to far gone to stop me at this point.

“Y-yoou want to destroy that which we are presently incapable of underssstanding? Forgive me but am not advocate of knowledge at any price."

I smirked to myself as I freed him from the confines of his slacks and boxers, his translations had become a stuttering mess and I hadn’t even touched him yet. He was already painfully hard, the head was an angry red with precum dribbling down. I firmly gripped him relishing in the little gasp that already escaped his mouth.

“Spencer we are in public, your going to have to only translate if you want me to touch you at all” My voice took on a deadly sinister tone reserved for unsubs or Spencer when he was being particularly subby.

He nodded and I fully immersed myself into giving him the best blowjob of his life. I slowly dragged my tongue up his length savoring every time he choked on his words, his thighs were tensing and his hands were white knuckle gripped around the arm rests. My mouth then finally fully enveloped his length finally giving him the relief he was looking for. As I began to take him further into my mouth his quiet whispers jumped an octave, he didn’t let himself moan, he knew what kind of punishment he would get if he dared to break my rules. The head of his member hit the back of my throat and spit started to drool out of my mouth, I looked up at him menacingly, daring him moan out.

“Remember Tol-stoy? His suffffering over the impossibility of loving mankind as a whole? How much time has passed since then? Somehow I ca-nn’t figure it out. Help meeee-Fffuck! Y/N!”

He whimpered out, I smirked around his length in satisfaction- I had broken him. I evilly released his length with a pop, he whined pathetically in protest at the loss of stimulation.

“If you had just followed the rules baby boy maybe I would’ve let you cum” I teased while sliding back into the theatre chair and turned back pretending to enjoy the rest of the movie. He still hadn’t torn his beautiful caramel eyes away from me, it almost looked like he was going to cry.

“Please Y/n I’ve been so good until now! I made you cum earlier, please please!!” He was unashamedly begging now, I quirked my eyebrow in surprise, he usually didn’t beg this fast. I leaned over to whisper in his ear mirroring his position from earlier.

“I’ll let you off easy this time pretty boy- but- when we get home you better put in the work and please me. Understand?” His head bobbed up and down eagerly, he was relieved he would actually be able to cum tonight. I dropped back down to my previous position in front of him and took him back into my mouth, he immediately went back to translating the film not wanting to get edged for the second time that night. One of my hands gripped his hips while the other felt underneath his boxers and caressed his balls, I could tell he was close. He came soon after in hot spurts down my throat, I swallowed every drop while I looked up in awe at him savoring how I made him fall apart. Spencer’s breath was ragged as he came down from his salacious climax, I tucked him back into his slacks and once again sat back into the plush velvet seats.

“Holy fuck” he said uncharacteristically after he snapped out of his reverie.

“Shh, Spence I’m watching the film!” I said cheekily, he glared back at me with a glint in his eye. I could tell even though he initially protested he thoroughly loved our carnal adventure. Spencer resumed his translating and I was surprised that we were only around halfway through the movie.

Once the movie was over we passed through the cinema as quick as possible ready to continue the nights adventures at home as promised. We got into Spencer’s Volvo and he stopped to stare at me for a moment before we left the parking lot. My eyebrows furrowed as i looked at him curiously wondering why he suddenly paused.

“See, I love you. But love is a feeling we can experience but never explain. One can explain the concept. You love that which you can lose: Yourself, a woman, a homeland. Until today, love was simply unattainable to mankind, to the earth. Maybe we are here to experience people as a reason for love." I recognized the quote from the movie we had just seen, and even though we said declarations of love often this one felt a little more special.

“I love you too Spence” I said through my watering eyes. He gave me a loving smile and started the car so we could go home to continue the night.

—————

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH41

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

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Chapter 41: Star Death Reality Show (XXIV)

For a long time, Qi Leren couldn’t find the ability to think.

He seemed to be a poor man petrified by magic, just sitting in a chair, watching the system prompt gradually disappear from the screen.

Ning Zhou was dead?

Dead. Qi Leren couldn't put this cold word on Ning Zhou. Even if it was just in his imagination, he couldn’t accept it.

His trachea seemed to be blocked, and Qi Leren felt that he had returned to the sea, feeling the pain caused by suffocation in the increasingly strong water pressure. He couldn't breathe and couldn't escape. The oppressive darkness and death surrounded him, tormented him, and made him unable to endure for even one second.

He had to go to Ning Zhou! He had to bring him back from Purgatory!

He had always been used to waiting passively, indulging his interia and dependence as he waited, comforting himself. This was the best way, but he didn't expect that some people, some things, he couldn’t wait for. The anxious sense of urgency weighed heavily on his shoulders; just like when he had used the Prophet's Heart, a huge clock kept counting down behind him.

Counting the seven days after his death, today was the twenty-fourth day after his resurrection. There were only five days left for him. He had to hurry back and bring Ning Zhou back, otherwise...

Qi Leren couldn't think of what followed.

Don don don— When a knock on the door sounded, Qi Leren was startled and hurriedly closed the laptop. At the moment it closed, it disappeared out of thin air. Thankfully he had turned off the invisible camera that followed him, otherwise he really didn't know how to explain all this.

A skill card was lying quietly on the computer desk. Qi Leren had no time to think about it. He put the skill card in the item bar and asked loudly, "Who’s there?"

When the door opened, Du Yue stood outside looking surprised. "You’re really here?"

This was a strange question. Qi Leren felt strange when he heard it: "How did you know I was here?"

Du Yue scratched his head, a little muddled and a little confused, and said, "There’s a very strange gentleman... I don't know where he came from... He showed me the way and said that you were here."

A chill penetrated Qi Leren's back and cold sweat flowed down. Qi Leren's hand was shaking. If he didn't deliberately control it, his voice would tremble. The familiar fear returned to him; even if he just thought the name of that person, he would feel terrible.

A person who suddenly appeared and knew him like the back of his hand, a person who could access and even interfere with the copy, a… terrible person.

He had come here again for the secret hidden in this laptop.

"Where is he?" Qi Leren asked slowly.

"He said he would be at the lowest level of the institute. Qianbei, is he a survivor of this planet? Did they not leave here, but lived underground or something?" Du Yue, who didn't know Su He, never thought of the man’s real identity, but thought he was a part of this copy.

Qi Leren took a deep breath, shook his head, and got up and walked out of the room.

"What about the others? Have you spoken with them?" Qi Leren asked.

"We split up just now," Du Yue said in a depressed way.

Qi Leren didn't ask any more questions and walked quickly towards the safe corridor. Since Su He wanted to see him, he had to bite the bullet and go, but this time he had no Easter Eggs. If Su He made him choose between life and death again...

I should make an agreement with him, Qi Leren thought. He absolutely couldn’t die here. If he died, Ning Zhou would be fated to follow that terrible path, leading to the abyss of death. He couldn't watch Ning Zhou die.

If Ning Zhou became a demon, he would accompany him.

If the world wouldn’t let them be together, then they would go to hell together.

He wasn’t afraid, because nothing was more terrible than losing him.

But if Su He insisted on killing him... Qi Leren stopped on the stairs, turned to Du Yue, and said, "I have something to ask of you."

"Qianbei, please say it, I’ll do it!" Along the way, because of Qi Leren’s dignified expression, Du Yue felt nervous, thinking he may have made some big mistake. Now that he heard that his qianbei wanted to make a request, all he had to do was clap a hand to his chest and promise.

"Don't follow me later, do everything possible to protect your own safety. If I die, go back to the Village of Dusk and find a woman named Chen Baiqi..." As Qi Leren spoke, he took out a pen and paper and quickly wrote about Ning Zhou, then handed it to Du Yue.

Du Yue opened his mouth and looked ready to cry. "Is it that dangerous? Qianbei, don’t go!"

"There are some things that can't be escaped," Qi Leren said. Su He had come in person, and it would take him only minutes to kill everyone in the copy. He didn't even have the cards to negotiate with him. It was simply a fantasy to avoid him. "If you find Dr. Lu, don't get separated from him. Although he’s often confused, he’s still very lucky. That person should not be interested in killing you... I’m leaving, you should be careful."

Du Yue gawked at Qi Leren. He really was crying. A big and strong boy who was only eighteen years old could not hold back his tears when faced with life or death, and he took Qi Leren's hand with a face of snot and tears and refused to let go.

Qi Leren had to comfort him with a white lie: "Don't worry, this is only the worst case. Generally, I’m lucky and won't die."

Du Yue was dumbfounded: "But Dr. Lu said that your luck level falls below the alphabet."

“………………”

Qi Leren, who had been exposed, finally just pushed Du Yue out of the stairwell and continued to go down. As the floor numbers dropped, he entered deeper and deeper underground, and the surrounding air became colder and colder. Even wearing temperature regulating clothes, it still made Qi Leren feel stiff all over.

As he walked, Qi Leren looked at the skill card that had been left after the laptop disappeared.

[Sophisticated Lawyer: A cunning lawyer should avoid the traps in the contract and do everything possible to help their client, who has paid enough in legal fees to avoid contracts that are not beneficial to them. If you sign a contract with anyone after equipping this skill card, that contract can't bind you, but a payment of 130 survival days will be consumed. Remaining usages: 1/1]

Qi Leren's face turned green. He worked hard with the Devil of Fraud to save 147 survival days, but this would take 130 days at once?! If this skill card was used and his identity was revealed in this copy... Very good, he would be directly obliterated because of insufficient survival days.

But he knew in his heart that if "it" would give him this thing, it was already hinting that he… he would need this skill card.

Just like the Easter Egg.

Qi Leren looked at this skill card with mixed feelings and inserted it into the card slot.

He had already reached the 13th floor underground. The depth of this underground research institute was really shocking. At present, he faced the exit of the stairwell. Qi Leren hesitated outside the door for a while before fearfully pushing it open.

Ahead of him, there was a cold and featureless metal corridor, dark and lacquered, and the range of a flashlight was limited. Where light couldn't reach, the deep darkness was like a beast's open jaws, waiting for him to trap himself.

Qi Leren let out a mouthful of hot air that condensed into a thin cloud of white smoke in the extremely low temperature air.

He stepped out of the stairwell.

Light suddenly hit his eye, and the sudden light blinded his eyes with whiteness, but the fresh air and warm temperature from the tip of the nose made him realize that he was no longer in the cold underground research institute.

Sure enough, when his sight returned to normal, the ethereal and clean world around him made him hold his mouth tightly shut.

The blue sky was endless, and there was one white island after another floating around him, unable to discern if they were white clouds or floating islands. Pigeons flew from the direction where the sun was rising, and the whole world was immersed in the hope of dawn. Who could have guessed that this was a Devil’s field?

Qi Leren stood on the tower of the floating island, where he had once come and had a friendly conversation with the Devil of Fraud.

At that time, Su He had said that this was the Village of Dawn in his memory, and he had projected the ideal hometown into his own field. Qi Leren didn't know whether this sentence is true or not, but if he thought deeply, he couldn't help but feel fear for the truth of the Village of Dawn—was the so-called Village of Dawn itself not this Devil’s field?

"Good morning, lost lamb." A hoarse and charming voice came from behind Qi Leren, which scared Qi Leren into turning around quickly.

On this terrace that had been empty only a few seconds ago, there appeared a woman holding a white porcelain tray, as if she had appeared out of thin air.

This was the sexiest woman Qi Leren had ever seen. This was so even though her hair was tied in a meticulous bun and she was dressed in a high-necked black dress, her whole body covered—only her face was exposed, and even her hands were wearing a pair of black silk gloves. Even if a naked woman was standing there, she would not attract more attention than her, because no one would have the same reserved yet affectionate smile as her.

"Let me introduce myself. My name is Ruth. It's a very common name, isn't it? In the demon world’s capital city, if you shout Ruth casually, at least ten women will turn around. So I prefer others to call me the Witch of Lust." Ruth walked lightly to the round table and sat down, waving to Qi Leren again. "Sit down, the little pet His Majesty is in charge of keeps causing trouble again. If you ask me, it really needs to be changed to a bigger cage."

"What pet?" Qi Leren asked cautiously.

Ruth crossed her hands under her chin—this action was really like her master—and hesitated: "A goldfish."

A goldfish? Qi Leren was at a loss. What trouble could a goldfish make? Jumping out of the goldfish bowl? It was worth Su He handling it himself?

A goldfish bowl? This word suddenly awakened Qi Leren's reluctant memory. It suddenly occurred to him that Su He had been called away by a voice when he had revealed his identity and killed him. At that time, Qi Leren had lost blood and couldn’t see clearly, but his ears had still heard the voice. What were the exact words? They seemed to be...

[...The goldfish bowl has raised an alarm. It’s very likely that it will escape again...]

Wasn't what lived in the goldfish bowl a goldfish?

It was going to escape, and again? That is to say, it had escaped before?

What on earth was this thing?

Lust calmly poured tea for Qi Leren, and there were three tea sets on the table. Her and Qi Leren’s cups were already filled, but the empty one still waited for its bearer.

"He always makes us wait so long. If you don't mind, we can talk casually." Lust stirred the black tea in the porcelain cup with a delicate silver spoon, but her eyes never left Qi Leren for a moment.

"...What is there to talk about?" Qi Leren asked warily.

"Let's talk about men. Women like me and men like you always like this topic," the Witch of Lust laughed.

"..." What do you mean, "men like you"? Qi Leren was a little depressed.

"What do you think of His Majesty?" the Witch of Lust asked wistfully.

Could he say that he thought he was a deeply-scheming pervert? After Qi Leren learned Su He’s true face, it made his hair stand on end when he recalled the little things from when they used to get along. This feeling was probably like if he had found out an old friend of many years was actually a serial murderer, and that he was his next target.

However, Qi Leren couldn't make such comments to the witch about her boss, lest she become angry from his impudence and teach him to be a man in 10,000 ways. He had to breathe a sullen sigh, consider the sentence carefully and thoughtfully, and after deleting a few-hundred-word-long negative review, provide a small truth that wouldn’t offend anyone: "He’s very handsome."

Lust giggled with joy and reached out to touch Qi Leren's cheek: "You’re so cute, I like you a little."

A sigh came from behind Qi Leren: "Ruth, I asked you to dress properly and take care of the guest, not flirt with him."

The voice struck Qi Leren's head like thunder and lightning. He suddenly jumped up from his chair, then felt that he had overreacted, so he sat back down in embarrassment. The footsteps behind him were getting closer and closer, passing his seat and sitting down in the empty chair opposite Qi Leren.

Su He wore what appeared to be a riding suit, as if he had just arrived by horseback, and he took off his white gloves and held them in one hand. He looked like a human being, handsome and gentle. He didn't seem to notice Qi Leren’s blunder, and he forgot his former unhappiness. After sipping a mouthful of black tea that Ruth poured for him, he put down his cup and smiled, saying to Qi Leren who was on pins and needles:

"On this beautiful night, are you interested in making a deal with me?"

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