#why can't i seem to extend the same to drawing ;~;

[thesilmarillionblog]

𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭: 𝟖

Click here to read the first part.

Summary: You and Soldier Boy want to create a family and move on from everything, even the Vought, but you also know that he has to face Homelander one last time to keep his vow to Butcher. However, nothing turns out as you had hoped.

Pairing: Soldier Boy / Reader

Warnings: light smut, angst, language, sexual tension, teasing

Word Count: 5814

A/N: English is not my first language.

This is inspired by the song 'Remembrance' by Memoria Futuri.༊

Your fingertips reached out the eagle symbol as your hands moved over the hard plate on his chest while you remained seated on his lap. Soldier Boy continued to watch every move you made. As the minutes went on, his grasp on your stomach grew softer, and you started to question your ability to truly influence his thoughts over Cate and other things. You hoped you would be able to go back inside his heart and that he would be able to love you without missing the times that you were reluctant to remember.

You wanted to make things right because you felt a strong draw toward him, even if you weren't sure how.

You were cool with it if he wanted you to Temp-V so he wouldn't force your mind to surrender you to the merciless hands of another Supe. You were obviously anxious to discover your dynamics with him, but you must have done it many times with him. You were curious about how he treated you in bed. The idea heated your cheeks. 

As if sensing it, he remarked in a playful tone, “What are you thinking now?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just us.”

Your answer warmed his heart. If he couldn't remember every detail of the times you had spent together, he would say it was deja vu. But you were back on his lap, telling him that all you could think about was him and you. You sounded precisely the same, as if you were deliberately recreating that same moment, so he wondered whether he was right to think that you were different. But all memories were forgotten, and here you were in his arms. 

You made an effort to approach him more closely than you had previously, and you inquired, “Are you okay too, though? Instead of focusing on finding Cate and forcing me to recall things, considering extending my time.”

He said, “On one condition.” His hands seemed softer now, like if he could pull them back at any second. 

“I already accepted taking that thing you mentioned, Temp-V.”

“There is one more,” he said with determination. His expression was serious. 

“What now?” You sighed. He was constantly asking something more.

“If you can't remember a single thing in a month, you will agree to get help from Cate.”

You instantly said, “No way!” and were irate that he hadn't even given you six months. You had doubts; he cared about your feelings much. “You're being cruel. Let me have four months.”

With a tone of rage, “Fuck no,” Soldier Boy tightened his hold on your body. “One and a half.”

You sighed, seeing how quickly he was growing furious. “You're asking too much from me, you know.” There was something different about his rage. 

“How it's too much when I want the woman I loved to come back to me.”

The way he utilized the past tense made your body tense. Your mood fell as you realized that, despite your best efforts, there was still some distance between you. Your palms touched the eagle symbol on his chest and then went gently down to the belt, which had a star symbol on it. Soldier Boy felt regret after realizing what he had just said, but instead of offering an apology, he said nothing that would have made you feel even worse. 

You were reaching out to him, and he was reaching out to you, but your efforts were going in separate directions. Why did he find it so difficult to accept you as you are? Was the difference between the old and new you really that much? You questioned if you were really that annoying.

You muttered, “Give me three months then,” without responding to what he had just said. There was a hint of disappointment in your voice. It was difficult to control how you were feeling.

With annoyance, Soldier Boy examined your face and inhaled deeply. “One and a half. That's all I will give. Discussion is over.”

“No.”

“For God's sake,” he murmured in frustration. You began to become enraged with him for his impatient manner since he was being so persistent. At least he could acknowledge some of your decisions while you were being so kind, even if he didn't like your new version.

You scowled and tried to get to your feet to break free of his hold, but his hands stopped you with ease. Soldier Boy drew you closer to his body with a serious look, saying, “Stop moving.”

You placed your hands on his shoulders and said, “You stop being a stubborn asshole.” Then, with a rapid motion that brought your body even closer to his, you gasped, “Ow!” as his iron belt hurt your stomach.

Soldier Boy instantly released his hold on you. His expression was one of perplexity, as though he hadn't realized what he was doing. You questioned how you managed to stay with him for so long given how harsh he was and had such a temper. 

“Language.” With a hint of irritation in his tone, he playfully responded, “Show some respect to your man. That's what happens when you don't listen to me.” He replaced your body back on his lap. He looked over your stomach and raised your t-shirt a little higher to see if you were hurt. It burned a bit, but there was just a slight scretch. 

For a split second, you felt like a foolish young girl because of your excitement at his remarks. “I wonder how I survived with you,” you muttered once more as you stopped physically battling with him. Soldier Boy's fingers lightly touched the small mark on your stomach, giving him a disappointed expression, yet his expression was serious on the other side. “I should have been with a regular man who would respect my choices.”

He got frustrated that you brought up being with another man instead of him and remarked, “Watch your mouth,” as he let your t-shirt fall in a rough manner. “Respect the decisions you've made? A man is a pathetic and useless pussy who can't fix anything if he just lets go of everything when his woman experiences memory loss.”

“Or?” you said, trying to lighten the mood by lightly teasing him. While you were still on his lap talking to him about your future together, you realized it wouldn't be a good idea to argue with him. “And I'm not something to be fixed. You must know how thick your skull is.”

With a little smile, he studied your face and body till your cheeks reddened. You tried to get away from him slightly, but he held on closely. You stiffened up as his fingertips continued to linger on your skin and gently moved into your t-shirt. 

“What were you saying? Now, what happened? Do you need me to remind you of the other thick parts of my body that you found most pleasing?” Soldier Boy inquired, a sly smile playing on his lips. It was apparent that he was enjoying your response to him. You could feel the hardness of him beneath his suit as he rubbed your body against it. His mouth was so dirty that it made your cheeks flush crimson.

You whispered, “Don't change the subject,” without saying anything more. Your pussy had other plans, even though you tried not to stare at his massive member beneath you. “Will you allow me enough time? Four months seems like a reasonable amount of time.”

“No way.” He said it in a more controlled manner this time. You knew he was briefly looking at your body as his hands and fingers caressed your skin and held you tightly to his body. There was desire in his eyes; you could tell that.

Instead of disturbing you, though, it unexpectedly thrilled you. It seemed as though there was a magnetic pull between you or that your bodies were attempting to reunite in a more intimate manner. 

“That would be enough, and it benefits you the most,” you said. 

He arched an eyebrow at your refusal, chuckling. “In what ways will it benefit me?” Then Soldier Boy took a serious attitude, although it was clear that he was amused by your attempts. 

You stated, “If I don't love you back the way I had loved you in the past, you can tell my emotions were fake or something.” Even though you knew it was a cheap move, you still felt like you had to try it. 

The look on Soldier Boy's face shifted, as if he gave it some real thought. You might sense there was a brief moment of little lack of confidence if you didn't know how much he knew about himself. Nonetheless, he was undoubtedly the most attractive and powerful Super. 

“I know you love me already, and when you said you did, you said it sincerely.” There was no debate after his sharp remarks. “It doesn't matter if you remember or not.”

You dared to challenge him even though it wasn't a smart move. “How can you be so sure, and why so stubborn if it doesn't matter?”

“Because I can tell when you are lying. They are not the same thing,” he replied. 

With a cunning appearance on his lips, he watched you cautiously as your hands slid gently over his suit. You could have chuckled at how patient he was now, in spite of his intolerance only moments before, if you hadn't felt his hardness beneath you. 

You posed a lighthearted question, “Can I change your mind a bit?” You wanted him to be unconscious of how much this was fun for you, but you both were into playing a little. There was an overpowering need for discovering your balance with him. 

Your hands returned to his shoulders after carefully grazing each and every inch of his suit. As he stared at you and did nothing except hold you close, you felt a kind of joy emerge in your chest. Soldier Boy was the one who was closest to you and was willing to let you do everything you wanted to do him, even though you had known Butcher and the other guys for a very long time. You knew it was different with him.

“I'm not sure. You have to give it a try,” Soldier Boy grumbled, returning his hands to your hips. “You must know I'm not very easy to convince.”

“I see that,” you winked at him. At least you knew just how stubborn he was without needing your memories to return. However, you were equally determined about pursuing what you wanted. 

Soldier Boy couldn't resist chuckling when he saw how much you were already enjoying. For a little while, you felt as though you knew him as well as he knew you, and everything between you was normal. 

You said, almost in a whisper, “I want to bargain,” shifting slightly on him despite the fact that your cheeks were burning. If he acted more stubbornly and pushed you away, you would be quite embarrassed. 

To your astonishment, though, his hands kept stroking your hips—only more forcefully this time. Instead of harming you, he was once again showing his dominance to you. 

When you noticed he was considering it, you asked again, your cheeks heated, and you started to move on him a little. “Can we negotiate?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, seemingly disconnected from what you had to say, and instead he stared at your body. 

That's when Soldier Boy turned to look at you. His eyes were staring at you intensely. You trusted him when he said he missed you. You were there with him, comfortably seated on his lap. You weren't uncomfortable or anything even a day ago. It just felt right to be with him.

Soldier Boy smirked and gave you a quick ass squeeze. “Show me what you can do to convince me,” he urged. Although your eyes became wide, you were determined not to allow Cate to touch you and fuck your brain's balance. 

You weren't sure how far you would go without Temp-V at the time, and you didn't know how much he would go far. You had at first wanted to speak with Butcher. But there has to be a way to get him interested enough. 

You shifted slightly on his lap, one hand caressing his neck and hair, the other gently touching his huge bisceps. Your lips parted in surprise and desire as you felt his erection under you. Even though you had both stated that you were not interested in having sex before you remembered him, here you were, unable to get your hands off of one another as if you were meant to be together forever. 

You remained motionless, yet your lips were almost in contact. All you could do was stare into his eyes. He continued to hold you, the mock on his lips disappearing as his hold on your hips grew stronger and stronger. 

“How about...” you muttered. “Four months?” 

“Fuck no,” he responded, giving you a firm squeeze to move on him. 

To give you adequate space, Soldier Boy widened his legs a little. As you moved, you could feel his hands tightening around your thighs and his breathing becoming heavier. The strength difference between you made you a little uneasy, but you would have told him the moment his touch began to hurt. 

He suddenly said in a stern voice, “I should have fucked you on that table,” urging you to continue. Although there was quite a barrier between you and his pants, it didn't stop you from getting pleasure. 

Your body and cheeks became flushed from embarrassment, but you persisted and stated, “Give me four months.” 

You could never have agreed to let some other Supe get near you and screw your mind even more. 

You gasped in shock when Soldier Boy ignored what you had said and put a firm grasp on one of your tits through your t-shirt. He had hands all over the place. By the end, you weren't sure if you would be the one to get what you wanted. All of his focus was on his own needs.

“Feel how much you still make me hard, baby,” he muttered on your neck, pressing you on his stiff cock more thoroughly. “We haven't been this way in a very long time. I've so fucking missed watching you move on my cock.”

Longing was present in his final words, along with a lot of yearning. Though you tried to dismiss it and concentrate on the present, you couldn't help but feel a type of sadness tightening in your chest. Though you hoped you missed him just as much as he did, you showed no signs of this feeling. It seemed as though you had never separated. 

At that moment, you found yourself willing to play the game he needed.

In an attempt to give him what he truly desired from you, you hesitated before placing one of your hands on his and making him squeeze your ass firmly. 

“How much did you miss me?” you asked, meeting his gaze directly. Though your lips met his, it was not a kiss. His lips and touch were warm. 

It would be great if you knew his name, but though you tried so hard, you could not recall. You hoped that you had forgotten Butcher's instead.

Soldier Boy's lips began to lick your neck and throat. “So fucking much,” he moaned. It was evident from the way he moved underneath you that this was making him harder than before. 

Between gasps, you proceeded, encouraged by his reaction to your touch and words, “Will you give me four months?” His grip on your hips began to ache a little, but you bit your lip to keep the moment from being ruined until you had what you wanted.

He groaned, “Don't stop,” as soon as he noticed you were moving on him more slowly. His finger was lingering around your trousers and giving you little bruises. You tense up, thinking he's going to rip them off, so you tried to get the speed that Soldier Boy needed.

“You did give me a good hand job there, didn't you?” He let out a moan as you struggled to maintain the same pace. You made an effort to loosen his hold somewhat with your hand, but he didn't seem to be listening. 

“Given how long it's been, you would let me fuck you raw right now, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you allow me to fully fill your tight pussy and fuck you from behind till you can't move?” You eventually whimpered as Soldier Boy tightened his grasp on your hips and murmured into your ear. 

“Careful!” His hot kisses on your neck were so passionate and intimate that you felt yourself losing yourself in the moment with him as you moaned in pain and stroked his hands to calm him. 

He said, “I'm not even using force; relax,” as if he were at the end of his tolerance. It was impossible to determine if he was very aroused or enraged. Most likely, he had no idea how powerful he was. You came to the realization that using Temp-V was a wise decision. It was risky to be with a supe like him since you never knew if he was aware of what he was doing. 

His lips captured yours with desire, allowing you to slow down and ultimately release his hands from your hips without allowing you to say anything more. You felt a bit more at ease once he released your hips. 

You said, “We need to calm down,” in between kisses. You gave him softer, more tender kisses in return for his fierce, heated ones. It was absurd that you felt safe getting closer to a man you had only met the day before.

Soldier Boy was not your boyfriend; he was a stranger in fact. Someone you couldn't remember. But your heart knew the right path. 

He moaned, “Can't get my hands off of you,” kissing you this time with care and desire. “Fuck, I need to be inside you right now.”

“But I didn't take Temp-V,” you murmured hurriedly. It was difficult for you to make predictions as to how you did it because you couldn't recall your private moments with him.

“So?” Not sure what you were hinting at, Soldier Boy stated in a querying tone.

You muttered, “I don't know,” struggling to find the right words. “How.. we used to do it.”

“Do what?” he repeated, but this time he was smirking.

You stopped him and said, “Don't act like an asshole,” but his rough hands were already on your hips once more.

He kissed you hard and briefly in between talking about your attitude, saying, “The first thing you must remember is that'respect' for sure. And yes, we did it many times without Temp-V or anything else.”

You've been rubbing yourself against him and quietly panting. You just whispered, “Hmm.”

Once more, Soldier Boy gained complete control over your body and forced you to rub up against him while murmuring, “You wouldn't believe how many times I've fucked you without Temp-V.”

As gentle fingers ran through your hair, you muttered, “Was it good enough for you?”

“Perfect,” Soldier Boy responded with honesty.

“Protection?” you asked once again. It was difficult to comprehend what kind of power imbalance there might be between you and Soldier Boy during such times. He wasn't even aware how hard he grasped your hips until you warned him. 

“No,” to make it short, Soldier Boy's brought your body as close as his as he possibly could. You scowled as you saw his expression change. His voice had lost its tone of amusement and had become harsh. 

“Why?” 

“I'm a supe. There's no way I... could get you pregnant. Our DNA's are built differently.” Oh. 

Expressing verbally, a sort of rage entered Soldier Boy's heart. He couldn't recall the last time he had given an explanation for his inability to complete something. Even if he didn't intend to have children at that moment, it hurt his pride as a man to be unable to get you pregnant. He repeatedly filled you in a single day and continued to do so for months, but you were never able to conceive.

You said, “Okay,” in a whisper. Though he had made it plain, he did not explicitly state that the reason was that you were weaker than him. You were unable to overcome the anguish that was around your heart like a glass.

You couldn't stop thinking if the person you used to be had any plans to have a baby with him. You were startled that the thought didn't even slightly worry you as your mind raced with images of you, Soldier Boy, and a tiny baby. On the contrary, it kind of excited you. But it looks like the concept would remain a far-off fantasy that wouldn't ever come to pass. 

“So,” you began, hoping to get the conversation to go somewhere else. Your hands hesitantly touched his chest, then his iron belt, making contact with the star sign. “How about our negotiation?”

“Two months,” he said emphatically, as if nothing could make him reconsider at that very moment. 

If you weren't sitting on his lap while he stared at you longingly and with anticipation, you would have giggled at his inflexibility. You wanted to take some time and give it your all, even though you were aware of his earlier statements that he wouldn't love you in this way. 

You reached between his legs with your hands down. You could feel him tensing beneath you as your palms found his hardness through his jeans. He began to loosen his hold on your body when it became too tight since he clearly didn't want to harm you. 

“Two months is not enough,” you told him, lightly stroking his hardened cock with your palm against his trousers. 

With a swift moment, Soldier Boy shifted your positions and with an escaped gasp on your lips, you were under him, on the bed. He gently pushed your hair from your face and placed himself between your legs. Your eyes widened with surprise as he took your hand and put on his cock, making you to rub him through his pants.

Neglecting your words, Soldier Boy said, “Take it out.” He was already waiting for you to do something. “Now.”

Excitement flooded your body, so you followed his orders. After giving him a few more rubs to torment him, you unzipped his pants very slowly to get him more thrilled, though messing with a Supe wasn't a smart idea. 

“I thought you didn't want to touch me until I remembered everything,” you stated. “Why did you say it if you didn't mean it?”

“I decided to change my opinion, and why not? We used to bang five times in a row,” he snapped back. He truly never felt embarrassed over anything. Your body became hot when you attempted to figure out how you could take him so many times. 

You whispered, blushing at his bold remarks, “Don't you have a filter on your mouth?”

Soldier Boy said in your ear, “You should hear me when I'm inside you, swetheart,” as you finally succeeded in unipping his pants with trembling hands. You couldn't help but notice the longing on his face, his messy hair, and his hot breath. He was terribly good-looking and masculine. 

With a slight roughness in his voice, he thrust his hips toward your hand and seemed eager to continue. 

“Are you thinking about how much time you'll give me?” You inquired lightly, refusing to take him out of his suit no matter how many times he ordered you to continue. Soldier Boy shot you a cold stare right after. 

“Depends.” 

“On?” 

“Your little handiwork performance,” he stated with a brief smile that offered you his desire. 

With a hesitant smile back, your hands started to work on his pants to remove him. It was a play that you were both on. You two knew what was happening probably made you more thrilled than he was, and he would stop whenever you wanted him to, so it wasn't like he was pressuring you into doing anything you didn't want to. That was ingrained in your bones and feelings. 

You struggled to free him from his suit and were a little afraid of seeming foolish. Once some time had passed, you gave him a helpless glance. All Soldier Boy did was smirk mischievously over you. 

You said, “You could give a hand,” as your hands were a little aggressive on the material. 

“I thought that was what you're going to do.”

You surprised yourself by pulling his head to yourself and kissing him, refusing to let him torture you any longer. Thank goodness, Soldier Boy responded to your kisses instantly, and it didn't take long for his to take control and start making coarse noises within your mouth. 

You had no idea who was making louder noises or which of you was kissing each other harder. You were just aware that he was pressing you against the bed. He pulled back, allowing you a moment to catch your breath. During that moment, his lips remained on your neck, giving you a few gentle nibbles that left you whimpering.

You could feel the desire between your legs as Soldier Boy's hands frantically tugged at his clothes to get himself free. You were unsure if he would take you there.

Your phone rang in your pocket, and you realized that he was about to pull his cock out of his pants. As Soldier Boy was ready to pull down his pants, he grumbled in displeasure and halted, ignoring the phone ringing in your pocket. 

With a frantic “Oh, wait,” you attempted to shove his body away. 

Then Soldier Boy quickly took the phone from your pocket and glared at the screen with enraged eyes before letting you react. He stood up, leaving you on the bed by yourself, still gasping after the passionate interaction you had. You could tell who was calling by the way he looked across the room—it seemed like he was waiting for the right opportunity to enrage Soldier Boy even more. 

“You're a dead man,” muttered Soldier Boy as he held the phone up to his ear. “You and your worthless team.” Though it was barely audible, his voice was full of promise. 

Whispering, “Give it to me,” you hastily rose from the bed and attempted to take your phone from Soldier Boy's hands. 

It was obvious that Butcher was getting on Soldier Boy's nerves, even if you could only make out some of what he was saying. Butcher always had an ability of getting under people's skin. 

“How many lies you've told her, I don't know, but one thing is certain. You and your pitiful pets had best hide out in whatever shithole you are now in, because I'm going to kill you all.”

Soldier Boy eventually handed you the phone, ignoring everything Butcher was saying to him. As you waited for Butcher to speak, your pulse raced with thoughts and confusion, but you were at your breaking point. 

“I've called you a hundred times since yesterday,” you immediately complained. It was clear from your voice that you were disappointed. 

You paced the room, ignoring Soldier Boy as he observed you intently and zipped back his pants and straightened his suit. 

“We needed to exercise caution since he managed to catch you. Are you alright?” Butcher questioned it as if it were a common question. You were getting tired of his insensitive attitude already. 

You answered him harshly, “I need to talk to you in private,” ignoring his question.

“This is not the place for you to come. Sweetie, you'd put us all in danger.”

It was difficult to ignore the awful weight of rejection from someone who you still called friend and remembered with a heavy heart. You were aware that, for the most part, Soldier Boy was being truthful at that point. You were dumbstruck at how easily Butcher cast you aside while continuing to discuss safety.

“In somewhere else, of course,” you remarked coldly. “He will not follow me.”

You looked at Soldier Boy to see how he responded, but he was already seated and preoccupied with smoking weed aggressively across the room. Even though he occasionally sent you glares, you wanted to think he wouldn't break his promise to you. 

“Don't be so sure, honey,” Butcher sighed, unsure of how to handle the situation without putting the squad at risk by speaking with you. 

You said, emphasizing every syllable, “He's treating me good. We can meet in the house we all used to live in. I'll go there by myself. Alone.”

Butcher said, “Fine,” not wanting to talk about it any more. “Make sure you come here by yourself, baby,” he asked. Butcher owed you a conversation, even if he wasn't eager to meet you or risk running into Soldier Boy again when he really intended to kill him that much. Especially not after what he had done to both of you.

Of course, there were other topics to talk about.

Feeling relieved that he finally agreed, Butcher informed you when to meet and hang up without saying anything else. You were far too hurt to talk with him without coming out as fragile. After standing for a while staring at the screen of your phone and doing nothing, you turned to face Soldier Boy, who had already begun to drink. Then he looked at you. It was difficult to determine this time if his expression was one of hatred or rage. It was unclear if it was directed against Butcher, you, or both. 

You muttered, “I need to talk to him alone,” which gave you nothing to talk about. It was too much for you to handle.

You felt lost and alone once again.

Soldier Boy said, “Come here,” in a quiet voice. He sighed, seeing your mood drop and your smile fade. He detested seeing you so distressed and heartbroken. It would be simpler if you could just remember, but you were terrified. He couldn't figure out why.

Soldier Boy made you sit on his lap once again and gave you a tight embrace as if he could see what you were going through. Your head was on the cool material of his suit, where the eagle emblem was supposed to be. His warmth was relaxing and soothing.

You said, “He wants me to go to him alone,” hoping that he wouldn't provoke another argument once more.

Surprising you, he simply said, “Okay.”

“Just because I'm not going there with you for this time doesn't mean I won't murder him,” Soldier Boy firmly said, “He will pay for what he did to both of us. He and the others will die for that.”

You wanted nothing bad to happen to Butcher or the others, in spite of all that he had done to you. You knew you would never stay with Butcher again the moment he accepted the lies he'd told you. It did not, however, imply that you wanted his or the others' deaths. The only thing that would be lost would be trust, and that would be enough price.

You stated, “I don't want to talk about this right now,” implying that you didn't want to discuss Butcher or anybody else. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, so you decided it wouldn't be a good idea to tell Soldier Boy that you didn't want Butcher to die. 

He kissed your hair, and you closed your eyes with relief. He murmured, “Fine,” with a soothing voice. His roughness didn't make his arms and kisses seem unsafe.

You said, “But I can't stay here too,” keeping in mind that you would have had to see the Seven, Homelander, and their heinous deeds every day. The idea itself was dreadful. “I don't want anything related to the Seven or Vought.”

Soldier Boy inhaled deeply and remembered the last night you spent together, months ago, when everything was okay. At least your hatred for Vought and Homelander did not change. That was good enough. Although he too had no desire to interact with them, he was forced to do so due to the circumstances. For the time being. 

He continued, “We'll talk about such things later,” in a harsh voice, his hands lightly brushing your back as though he were trying to comfort you. 

“Where will I be staying?”

Soldier Boy scowled at your thoughts of living alone. “Obviously, not here.” As if he would let you go. 

With pride, he declared, “I own a place. We’ll stay there.” Though it didn't, it would have been preferable if things had gone as you two had hoped months ago. He wished he had purchased a house while you still remembered him. He would like to see your reaction.

You inhaled with gratitude upon learning that you would not be residing in Vought Tower. You could tolerate this as long as you didn't encounter Homelander and everyone. You were aware that Soldier Boy wouldn't allow you to go elsewhere, apart from him. Whatever had occurred or would happen, you had to confront it.

“Have you thought about the amount of time you'll give me?”

Soldier Boy took another look at the problem and groaned at your intransigent demeanor. He said, “Two and a half months,” playing with your hair and curling it with his fingers. “Not a single day more.”

“Make it three.”

“You are always greedy, aren't you?” He teased to lighten your mood. “Fuck it. Fine.”

“Will you tell me your name?” You asked in a low voice, realizing that you had never addressed him by name and recalling how disappointed he was when you couldn't recall it. You forced yourself to recall it till your brain hurt, but it was just impossible. You felt horrible about not being able to recall even one letter. 

You said, “Jack?” in an attempt to predict what he was going to say before he did. “Kevin? Eric?” 

“Fuck, quit saying other men names. Who the fuck are they?” He abruptly became irate and cut you off; jealousy was clearly taking over. 

“I don't know anyone with those names.” You said, playing with his possessive gaze as you raised your head to look at him. “Are you jealous?” 

“I am,” he declared firmly. The roughness in his tone made you giggle.

“You can forget everything—my face, my name, and even our memories—but you never forget that you are solely mine. You belong to me in your every version.”

⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋆☆⋅⋆

A/N: I guess that was a filler chapter. Please let me know what you think. Comments are keep me going. ♡

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[ranger-kellyn]

that art i reblogged earlier of the lady knights is like. EXACTLY. how i wanna draw. the style the lighting the way the shading is done-- bUT i still have no clue how to develop an art style and AAAAAAA

[ddejavvu]

For Tyler Owens x shy!reader maybe it’s their first time sharing a bed at a motel after tornado chasing? Nothing sexual just like sharing a bed and being shy about it?

Heartbeat - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

You've always been envious of the universal man-ability to fall asleep within seconds of their heads hitting the pillow, but now you're feeling the hurt worse than ever. It's well past one in the morning, Tyler's been asleep for over an hour, and you've been staring at a suspicious patch of something that's probably mold in the corner of the motel room ceiling.

It's not the nicest place, but you're stranded in the middle of a backroad stretch of Arkansas, so any place with a roof, even a moldy one, is a nice place.

Tyler's phone rings, technically set to vibrate but humming nevertheless as it lights up the room. You're expecting him to sleep right through it but he stirs, extending a lazy hand to press at the power button until it stops buzzing. Then, with a hefty grunt, he heaves over onto his side, and comes sleepy-face to sleepy-face with you.

"Oh," He starts, eyes widening from where they'd been barely open, "You're-" He clears his throat, his voice raspy, "You're awake, darlin'?"

His strong arm wraps around your shoulders and pulls you close, drawing you into warmth you hadn't accumulated yourself despite laying for the same length of time. You huddle into it even though there's a fire burning your cheeks and scalding your mind.

When you don't answer, Tyler rambles sleepily, "Sorry, my- m'phone was goin' off. Some scam caller, 'm pretty sure. Were you-" A yawn cuts through his words, "Awake before that?"

"Mhm," You nod, thankful for the sanctuary of his clothed chest despite it being the reason you're so flustered.

"You ever get to sleep, sweet thing?"

That's the million-dollar question. Million-dollar question meaning the one you'd pay a million dollars to avoid answering.

Your answering hum is non-committal at best, but Tyler seems to know there's a reason you hadn't flat-out said yes.

"My poor baby," He frowns, bleary but still concerned, as he pulls back to free your face from his chest. You're still encircled by his impressive arm, though, and you can't meet his eye as he stares down at you.

"What's'a matter, honey-bun?"

"Hm?"

"Why can't you sleep?" He asks, then guesses, "Is it the smell'a mildew that's comin' off of everything?"

His bluntness startles you into laughter, but you know he expects an answer from the way he maintains your gaze, sympathy shining in his sweet, sleepy eyes.

Now starts the squirming, "Um, I dunno. I guess the bed's just not too comfy," You prod at the cheaply-made mattress beneath you, "And- I think I'm just not used to sleeping with other people, y'know, and then the bathroom fan makes a weird noise even when it's off-"

Your attempts to bury the lede had failed. Tyler's brows furrow and he leans in, your nose-to-nose positioning only making your bashfulness worse as he murmurs, "Is this the first time you're sharin' a bed with anyone, sweet thing?"

Even the little details, the soft gust of his breath on your face as he watches you makes your insides crawl with mortification. You're so close, and he's so there, and he's finally figured out that you've never done anything like this before, and- god, how do you play this off?

"No, I have, I- I've had, y'know, sleepovers with friends and, um, I had a cat growing up, that kind of thing. Just not-" You break away when your eyes flicker over his, and you hold eye contact for as long as possible, "Not like this. Nothing like this."

Tyler doesn't laugh, even though he probably really wants to. Even though you've probably made a complete fool out of yourself, and he's going to snicker at your predicament with his friends later, he doesn't laugh, and instead he- he presses a soft, barely-there kiss to your forehead.

"I think I'm a little more involved than a cat," He hums gently, "Are you okay with me touchin' you like this, angel baby?"

His arm is around your waist, and his face is up against your own- that's it. He's not getting handsy, not venturing lower than necessary or trying to shove his large hands beneath your clothes.

"You're not touching me." You attempt to answer, "Or- well, you are, but-"

"But it doesn't matter what I mean by it if you don't like it. So is it okay?"

You consider the feeling of his strong arm tucking you tight into his chest, as well as the intoxicating feeling of each breath he takes being fanned over your face, a privilege you hope you're the only one to have experienced.

"Yeah," You melt into his arms, even squirming closer as he lets you lead, "This is okay. It's- I like it."

"Good." He murmurs, and you feel it more than hear it from the way you're nestled against his chest, "What normally helps you fall asleep? Cat breath?"

"Maybe," You laugh, recalling your tuna-scented companion, "But I don't know. Just- this is nice. Your breathing and," You pause, listening, "The beat of your heart."

Tyler's fingers freeze a beat before they curl against your scalp, raking gently and soothingly through your hair.

"Good." He repeats, and you swear this one sounds shakier, almost thicker than the last one, "That's it, sweet thing, relax. I'll make sure you get to sleep. And tomorrow I'll act like a gentleman, 'won't just collapse into bed and get to snorin'. before you've even brushed your teeth."

Your laugh is the last one you release for the night- the last sound altogether besides the soft breathing that evens in your chest, and it's all funneled into Tyler's chest like a prize he's won.

[unluckywisher]

Hi:) can I request some Rafayel fluff pls? (Perhaps drawing time together?) If not, whatever inspires you feel free to add more things to it.

~ Drawing with Rafayel ~

Tags: Rafayel x Reader, fluff, no warnings, reader isn't proficient at drawing, sitting on his lap but it's non-sexual, he helps you relax, he helps you draw.

Style: Second person narration, no description of reader, no use of pronouns, no use of y/n.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! It's always fun to write the lil sassy fish. Sorry if this took a long time, I had exams 😭

Word count: ~0,8k

You are hanging out at Rafayel's house, watching him paint like any other day. But to be honest with yourself, you are growing slightly bored with the painting he's working on today. Not that there's anything wrong with it, you normally would have enjoyed it, but today you aren't really vibing with the situation.

Maybe it's because you've been on vacation for a week and you're itching to go back into action against some Wanderers, or maybe it's just a random change in mood, but the fact of the matter is that you can't stay still. You have to do something. So much so that you don't notice how your fingers have been drumming against the couch's armrest for a while now. But he does.

"With all that noise, I can barely concentrate, you know?" He says, turning to face you, brush in hand.

You immediately stop, realizing what you're doing.

"Sorry."

"What's on your mind? You seem restless," he says, putting down the brush and sitting next to you on the couch.

"Yeah, I don't know... I guess I miss work. Feeling like I'm doing something."

He scoffs.

"You have to learn how to have a moment of peace. In fact, we're going to do that right now."

He stands up, your eyes following his movements with curiosity. He grabs a sketchbook and two pencils, then makes his way back to the couch.

"Are you going to make me draw?"

"Exactly."

You sigh, taking the pencil he offers you.

"Raf, you know my drawing skills are mediocre."

"You don't need to have good drawing skills to be able to unwind by drawing," he says, sitting right next to you and opening the sketchbook to a blank page.

"I don't even know what to draw."

"You're right, you need inspiration before you do this. So let's go."

He stands up once more, making you question why he is so excited about this. He extends his free hand toward you. You grab it, and he pulls you to your feet, leading you out of the house.

The ocean expands all across your field of view. No matter how many times you see it, you're always mesmerized by how beautiful it looks.

Still holding hands, you walk up to the shore. The sun is bright in the sky, but it's not uncomfortable; the sea breeze tousling your hair. Rafayel smiles at you.

"Well? Anything you wanna draw?"

You shrug. The view is pretty, sure, but you don't know if you're up for the task of drawing what you see.

He rolls his eyes. Letting go of your hand, he sits down on the sand.

"Fine, come here." He motions for you to sit on his lap.

You do, resting the sketchbook on your legs. He leans his head on your shoulder and whispers, "Close your eyes."

"What? Why? How am I going to choose something to draw with my eyes closed?"

"Forget about that for a second."

You decide to do as he says. Eyes closed, your focus switches to what you can hear. The waves lapping, the sway of vegetation, a bird chirping, Rafayel's heartbeat and breathing, your own... You find yourself syncing your breath with his.

You feel his hand caressing the side of your face, his fingers sliding through your hair, gently massaging your scalp. You lean into his touch.

"Okay, now, after taking a deep breath, I want you to open your eyes again."

The view is the same, but now that your mind isn't running a mile a minute, you're able to take it in better.

"We're going to draw the waves," he says. "They're easy, look."

He looks over your shoulder at the open sketchbook, and using his pencil, he makes a few arcs across the page. He stops to let you do the same.

"Don't overthink it."

Heeding his words, you attempt to do the same as he did. Your lines aren't as even or as elegant as his, but that's not the point. You know it isn't.

"Now we're going to add the shoreline..."

He puts his pencil aside and takes your hand as you hold yours. He guides it to the bottom of the page, etching a soft line. You let your hand be lead without much thought about what you're drawing, and this time the line looks nicer.

"A line at the top for the horizon..." He continues to whisper.

He guides your hand to the top of the page, a few straight lines mirrored across the waves you drew.

He lets go of your hand.

"See? You made a drawing," he praises, wrapping his arms around your middle.

"Well, you helped me. I feel like I cheated," you say, holding up the sketchbook.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't tell anyone," he smiles against your ear.

"Thank you. For helping me relax," you turn your head towards him, kissing his cheek.

"Well, if you give me a kiss each time, I'll have to help you more often," he muses, his ears turning red.

You laugh, leaning back to rest against him. It's a nice day.

[inferencesarchives]

`•- This Strange Feeling

luchino diruse (survivor) x gn reader

prompt: realizing they've fallen in love with you

warnings: physical touch

a/n: day 1 of the @philomena-propellente valentines event!! im very excited to participate in the very first event with my network aaaa!!!! i hope u all like this :] i love luchino sm

The professor had taken an interest in you from the moment you first stepped foot into the manor.

It was a strange phenomenon that he couldn't quite explain. The moment he first saw you, he felt strangely drawn to you in a way he hadn't ever felt before. From the way you talked, the way you presented yourself, the way you expressed your emotions, everything about you seemed to pique his interest.

Though you were still new to the manor, you were kind and friendly as you got to know the other survivors. This kindness eventually extended to him as well, and he was pleasantly surprised when you expressed a casual interest in hearing about his studies after he'd introduced himself. He wasn't used to having someone be interested in hearing about his research ever since he arrived at the manor.

For some odd reason, the idea made him feel strangely warm inside...

Throughout your first few months at the manor, the professor swiftly became a good friend of yours, and he was always quick to give you tips whenever you needed. He was always able to instruct you on what to do when in matches, and he was always nearby to support if you needed it. Every time you ended up using any advice he gave you, that same warm feeling emerged in his chest once more.

He really was unsure of what this strange feeling was. He just didn't understand where this warmth in his chest was coming from, or why he only ever felt this way around you. He'd have to figure this out, research it, and piece it all together. He had to think, what could this feeling mean? Why did he only ever feel that warmth around you? Just what was the reason for this strange, warm feeling in his chest?

Wait... No, he couldn't be...

After a long time of researching and trying to figure out what this feeling was, he had finally found a conclusion, but... He didn't know how to face this realization. He cared about you, of course, but he didn't want to risk his friendship with you. You were the nearest and dearest to his heart, and he valued you for your kindness. No, there was no way he... Even if he did, there was no way you'd...

Over the next few weeks, he grows extremely conflicted with himself. He cares a lot about you, and you were the most valuable person in his life, but... He highly doubted that you would ever think of him like that.

The last straw for him was at the end of a tough match together. It was the end of the match, and a teammate had already escaped through an exit gate as he was strapped to a rocket chair. The hunter was patrolling the area, and his chair time was almost up, but that didn't stop you from taking the risk. Hastily, yet carefully, you suddenly swooped in for the rescue, pulling him off the chair and dragging him towards the exit gate as you try to block a hit for him. He hardly had time to process everything when you practically shoved him out the exit gate, turning what should've been a draw into a wonderfully executed victory.

As you pull him back with you to the manor, he stared silently at you as he tries to process your actions, finding your decision to rescue him endearing and admirable at the same time. When you look back at him to see if he's alright, he can't help but feel extremely warm and fluttery inside, that strange, affectionate feeling now stronger than ever. At that point, he finally knew.

Luchino Diruse was absolutely, positively, 100% in love with you.

a/n: LIZARD GUY!!!!!! THE EVER!!!!!!! I LOVE HIM!!!!!!!!!! LUCHINOOOOOOO!!!!! THE SILLY!!!!!!!!! I LOVE LUCHINO SM!!!

thanks for reading, and remember to take care of yourself!

[suffrin]

To the ones who voted yes on making this dream into a shitty x reader

Disclaimer: i do not write often, this is just for fun, etc. There will probably be puctuation errors and typos and the like. I dont beta<3

ISAT | MAL DU PAYS X GN! READER

A sleepover with your friend Siffrin! How fun! You two had had some sort of something going on that neither of you cared to define, really. You enjoyed eachother's company and Siffrin enjoyed how comfortable your bed was. That's what mattered. As they came back from your bathroom, dressed in their admittedly amusing sleepwear, snork mimimi cap and all, you settled into bed yourself. He climbed up into bed beside you, the fabric of his clothes meeting yours for a split second as he adjusted to get himself under your covers. Not too close, though. Once the both of you were comfortable, you give them a smile, which they return. "Goodnight, Siffrin." You say, but its too late for them to say it back. They are Already asleep. Your bed does this!

You wonder if they're as weird about being so close to you as you are about being so close to them as you slowly drift off.

-------

It's dark. Cold, even. Are you dreaming? You hear a faint and uneven breathing. Where is it coming from? You don't... see anything. You turn around. A figure stands in front of you, saying nothing. It opens it's mouth to speak but no words are produced. Is this... a nightmare? You step closer. It steps closer. ....It looks a lot like Siffrin now that you can make out its features. It seems to examine you, uneven breathing still enveloping your senses. You let it watch you for a few moments. "Woah....You're like Siffrin but. hotter

.."

As soon as the words leave you mouth you cringe. Why would that be the first thing you say to it!? You meant to just THINK that.

Luckily, it doesn't seem to care, spiral eye still silently staring you down. Finally, you wave. "Hi...?"

The figure nods, lifting its hand in what seems to be a wave back. Oh, so it does hear you! ......Great.

"Do you like watching people..? Me too." You nod back. The fact it returned your greeting draws you in to keep talking to it. The figure nods again. Its movements are eerily inhuman, which you can't say you mind. It doesn't move, still watching you. Something tells you this ISN'T a dream. That its the work of something else. You look around. The room(?) Is devoid of anything but you and the figure.

"I don't know how it's possible for me to...be here, but I'll stay, if you'd like.." You offer, wondering if this could be some sort of wish, or something divine. It wouldn't be right to analyze it! Just enjoy.

It takes a slight step closer, seemingly agreeing. As it steps closer, you wonder if it works on the same rules as Siffrin; not wanting to be touched. You shakily extend your hand in greeting to find out. "I'm _____, if you'd like to ...shake hands. You don't have to-"

The figure studies your hand for a moment before slowly reaching out to shake it. Its grip is cold, strange, almost otherworldly. The shake itself is gentle,hesitant. As if its never made contact with anyone.

You shake its hand back before loosening your grip so it can easily pull away when it wants to. Who knew a sleepover with siffrin would bring you....here?? It feels so real.

"It's nice to meet you.." As you come to terms that you'll be here a while, you look around. "Could we sit?"

The figure nods and releases your hand, shaking it's own of your touch. It seems to have liked it, though. It taps an area free of any debris, indicating you should sit there with it. You do so. Immediately.

"Thank you. I wish I knew your name- oh!" You stop your sentence to pull your small notepad out of your pocket. You take it with you everywhere, even your dreams(?) apparently!

"Can you write? If so, you can write it here..."

The figure watches you curiously as you take out your notebook, as if wondering what you're going to do with it. When you ask if it can write, it nods slowly, then reaches out to take the book from you. It studies the page for a moment before carefully writing its title in your black pen.

You wait, patient as you swing my feet. You wonder what it will do. In the waking world, Siffrin is sleeping soundly and you're here with their....weird shadow? Subconscious? Something? Is this some sort of wish magic? It has to be. You don't care about the logistics, remember?? You're having fun. You're... really enjoying this thing's company. You continue waiting for it to hand the sketchbook back.

It does so after a moment, breaking you out of your thoughts. The page has 'MAL DU PAYS' written on it.

Oh. A name like that makes sense. You smile sadly, placing the sketchbook down beside you.

"It's really nice to meet you, Mal Du Pays. Is... Mal okay?"

The figure nods its head slightly in response to your question, seeming to accept the shortened version of its name. It seems to appreciate the fact that you're attempting to connect with it, even if it cannot talk back to you. Seems you've already made it less lonely.

"Well, Mal... I suppose we're... friends now?" You seem to blush at the prospect.

"Ah- acquaintanted at least!"

The figure's unreadable expression seems to soften as you call it your friend. It gives you a slow nod in agreement, as if accepting your friendship. It's hesitant to do so, but not unwilling. Its used to being alone, and your presence is having an effect on it that it can't quite ignore.

"Friends, then...? I'd um... I'd love to consider you one. You're.... very nice to look at." You swear you feel yourself blushing more, further embarrassing yourself.

The figure's expression seems to become perplexed as you compliment its appearance. It looks down at itself for a moment, as if unsure how to react, before looking back up at you. There's a hint of confusion in its gaze, as if its unused to receiving compliments. It has no idea what it looks like.

"Oh- well, I guess there's no mirrors here, are there? ....Um... hang on, Mal. Stay still just for a second?"

You pull out your pen and grab your notebook again, studying it for a brief moment before doing a quick doodle of what it looks like, turning the page toward it.

"...There. See? Very nice to look at.."

The figure watches curiously as you quickly sketch a picture of it. Once you hold out the sketch to show it, its expression goes from perplexed to bewildered. It's not used to seeing itself in any way, it seems.

It tilts its head as it looks at the tiny replica of itself, looking almost... intrigued. It seems to appreciate the drawing, even if it finds the very fact that you're drawing it to be a strange thing.

"It's nothing really but um......You can keep it, if you want-"

You smile, trying to ignore the way your heart swells as it looks at you drawing of it. You find it cute. Cute like you find siffrin, yet... Mal intrigues you more.

Mal Du Pays stares down at the drawing for several moments, as if studying it in detail. After what feels like an eternity, it reaches out and gingerly takes it from you, grasping it like it's something precious. It then looks back up at you, a faint hint of gratitude in its eye.

"Oh! I'm really glad you like it.. I usually just draw Siffrin and their friends so...it's nice to draw someone else."

You look down at your notebook. Should you have mentioned siffrin to it?? You don't know if that's a sore dubject or something. You don't know anything about it at all. You look back at it.

"Did you want to try drawing something, Mal?"

The mention of Siffrin's name seems to cause a subtle shift in the figure's demeanor.

However, it quickly pushes the thought aside and instead focuses on your question. The figure is silent for a long moment before giving a slight nod. Its eyes fall on the book once again.

You notice its change in demeanor when you mention siffrin and make a note to be careful about that in the future. Though.... the thought of it being upset with you is um....... nevermind. You flip to a new page and hand the sketchbook and pen off to it with an inviting nod. It gets to work and you take care not to look until its done. It hands the book back to you. On the page is a simple, albiet slightly scratchy drawing of you and itself, sitting where you currently are.

As you scan the paper, you cover your mouth with your free hand, absolutely touched that it drew the two of you sitting together.

"Oh, Mal! you drew us!"

You have a strong urge to hug it... or even kiss it due to how honored you are but I

You don't DARE act on that. No. Even if its all you've been thinking about since you laid eyes on it.

"I love it..."

Though not quite able to properly convey it, it seems pleased that you like its drawing.

When you cover your mouth, its gaze seems to linger on your lips...

You notice that. It doesn't help your situation. You set the drawing down, eyes darting from it to Mal.

"Um...Can I ask you something?"

It tilts its head at that.

You look away, suddenly feeling self conscious under its gaze.

"...Has anyone ever come here?" Wherever here is. Siffrin's head? Yours? Somewhere else entirely?

Mal seems to think for a moment, before slowly shaking its head. No one but Siffrin at least, and he didn't count. So no.

".....I didn't want to assume that, but..."

You trail off, sighing sadly. You can't help but move just the slightest bit closer as you sit together,still not touching it, but much more within reach to.

The figure keeps its gaze on you as you move closer. As you get within reach, it seems to stiffen, as if not expecting the movement... but it does not pull away.

It remains seated silently, a strange mixture of uncertainty and hope in its eyes as it watches you approach. It seems strangely starved for contact, yet also hesitant to accept it.

"Oh-- no, no I promise I won't touch you- I just... felt really far away for a second." *

You blush nervously, messing with you hands in your lap. You see it does seem to share Siffrin's thoughts on touch, so you keep my hands fully to yourself.

The figure relaxes slightly as you assure it that you won't touch it. It seems relieved that you've picked up on its reluctance to be touched. However, it also looks a bit... sad, as if it's yearning for some sort of contact, even if it fears it.

It continues to watch you silently, its gaze flicking back and forth from your face to your hands, as if longing to feel your touch while fearing it at the same time.

You notice their pointed gaze. ".......Um........."

Your face burns and you hide it in your hands. ".....Unless you.....want me to.....do that...."

You laugh nervously behind your fingers, thoroughly flustered and worried you might be reading it wrong.

Mal watches you, its expression stoic and unreadable... Then, ever so subtly, it nods.

It glances at your hands, then to its own body... as if silently giving you permission to touch it, though it's still hesitant. The air seems to crackle with an almost unbearable tension as you wonder what to do next.

"Okay I'm going to. Right now.."

You shift closer, hands falling from your face to your sides.

" .....Tell me if it's ...too much."

You slowly, gently place an arm around it in a sort of side-hug, making sure it's not too suffocating, and easy to push away if needed.

The moment your arm gently wraps around its form, it stiffens once more, its body going rigid with what seems to be.... fear. But slowly, ever so slowly, it relaxes into your touch, its body losing its tension.

It doesn't move to pull away, but it doesn't embrace you either. It simply sits there, feeling your arm resting around it, as if it's both afraid of and savoring your touch.

You notice it tense, but it hasn't said to stop, so you don't. You slowly bring your other arm up to hug it properly, gently leaning your body into it.

"...You feel nice..." You say absently, face burning against it.

It remains silent as you wrap your arms around it, gently hugging it. The tension in its body seems to slowly fade away, replaced by a curious mixture of acceptance and uncertainty. Its skin feels cool and smooth against you.

At your words, it seems to shiver slightly, as if not used to being flattered. It leans into your embrace, but only hesitantly and timidly, as if it's still afraid of physical contact. yet its obvious it desperately needs it.

"You can... touch ME all you want, I don't mind it.."

It's an embarrassing invitation to let it explore what a person feels like, but it's genuine. You keep hugging it, relaxing comfortably into its cool skin and the shadowy fabric of its cloak.

The figure seems to take a moment to process your words. It lifts one of its hands shakily, as if testing to see if you're serious. You can almost feel its surprise.

Slowly, it places its hand on your side, its touch tentative and careful. It lets its fingers linger there for a moment, feeling the warmth of your body, before slowly moving its hand slightly higher, exploring you.

You shiver at the feeling of its hand on you. It really took up your offer. You lean into it slightly, content letting it explore. Your own hands stay where they are, just loosen a little. A strange guilt eats at you ever so slowly as you remember Siffrin is sleeping soundly right beside you while you do.... this.

The figure continues to explore you, its touch becoming more confident as it slowly runs its hand across your torso and chest. It seems to be relishing the feeling of flesh under its fingers, its touch now less tentative and more inquisitive.

As it moves its hand higher, its fingers brush gently against the skin on your neck, feeling the warmth and life pulsing underneath. It might be envious of the heart that beats in your chest.

"Ah....Mal, you're getting really friendly with those hands real fast-"

You gasp out, flustered but absolutely not protesting.

"Feels nice..."

You reassure, leaning into it a bit more as it continues to roam your skin.

It brings a second hand into the mix, now fully examining you. You can't possibly go anywhere now. You can't help but feel a desire that's better kept to yourself. You seem to melt under its touch,unable to do anything in response but just invite it. You again, feel guilty having this kind of dream(?) next to your friend Siffrin in the waking world, but he never has to know you did!

" I'm comfortable with whatever-"

You suddenly say, tone much more fond than you expected.

It nods, bringing one of its hands to your chin, lifting it to make you look at it. It looks... like it wants something from you.

You shiver again, meeting its gaze, face burning hot. You lift your hand to your lips quizzically. The way it's staring... the way it has your chin between its fingers.... could it want...?

" ......Do you want me to ...?"

I leave the question in the air.

It swallows. is it nervous? That's cute... so are you. It's gaze sharpens as it nods.

"Oh......"

You blush even harder than before, slowly leaning in so you're inches from where its mouth would be if it had one. You lean in more, shakily pressing your lips to it before pulling away.

The figure seems almost frozen in shock as you lean in and press your lips to the shadowy spot where its mouth would be. For a second, it doesn't move, its fingers still holding you.

Then, slowly, very slowly, it almost seems to lean into your kiss. It doesn't know how to react, but it seems to crave it, silently aching for more...

You look for its approval and then come back in for another kiss, savoring the strange feeling of its shadowy skin against your lips. As the dream goes on, you wonder if Siffrin really is sleeping soundly beside you while you... essentially make out with Mal du pays. Yoy breathe softly, kissing it once more before leaning into the crook of its neck. Banish the guilt.

It seems almost overwhelmed, breathing a bit heavier than usual. That's.... hot. Oh, but it's frozen against your own body. You notice that and come down from thr high of kissing it, blinking apologetically.

"T-Too much?"

It exhales , shaking its head no.

"Not... enough?"

You raise a brow, still resting softly against it. It nods, now looming over you. Oh. How much of you does it want? Are you ever leaving?

-----

The light shines through your bedroom window. It's morning. Siffrin is still sound asleep. You're sweating. You touch your lips, but they feel cold. You can't look at him. You turn your head to bury your face in your pillow until something wakes them. Your face is hot. Siffrin shows no signs of stirring. You close your eyes and try to get back to bed, too. You wish you were still asleep. You wish you were still with Mal. It's. what. you. want.

[taxkha]

i love your art so much i can't even describe it!! for the past year, every time i see it, it inspires me to create and improve so much i can't be jealous; i can only work harder hoping i can invoke the same feeling in someone else one day. your masterful use of loose lines and cozy colors never fails to make me happy on the rainiest day. do you have any tips for establishing such atmospheres, such as color selection or particular poses or expressions? (i don't write very well, sorry if this seems confusing) -an anon who appreciates your work to the fullest

Oh my god anon, you are so sweet, thank you so much (ಥ﹏ಥ) It means so much to hear I inspire someone to draw and I'm happy I can motivate you! <3 Please keep it up and I would love to see what you are making if you ever feel like sharing it! x) I'm so happy to hear my art has such a positive impact on you!! Okay so regarding your questions! When it comes to colors I recently made a coloring tutorial where I also went a bit into how I select colors, how I shade and what my go to effect layers are, you can find it here but it's also currently pinned at the top of my blog! I explained it in my tutorial but I will say it here again, I rely a lot on effect layers. That isn't wrong by any means and is what I would argue most digital artists do but if you want to learn actual color theory that goes beyond what colors compliment each other I unfortunately cant help with that on my own nor do I have any guides at hand to redirect you to :") Speaking of complimentary colors though, knowing your color wheel and which colors contrast each other already helps a lot! My favourites are green/red and orange/blue! To give some examples: green/red

These are less about an atmosphere achieved through lighting but more about the general subject matter of the piece. They are both more ominous and uh, bloody and threatening. And for Orange/Blue

The orange and blue combination is something you see in a lot of movies, for example Mad Max Fury Road or Blade Runner 2049 and many many more which have likely influenced me on what colors I chose in my art to some extend. Paying attention to media other than your own helps a ton and can totally improve on how you approach you art! Like, obviously I draw mostly anime/manga esque art and I get most of my inspiration from manga and video games, but I also try and look at buildings when Im outside, look closely at shot compositions in movies and so on! Other inspirations that have helped me are artbooks from my favorite games/shows/series, if you enjoy those x) Theres probably PDFs to be found of a lot of artbooks online if you don't want to spend money on them. I know you didn't directly ask what my inspirations are lol but they absolutely helped me! OKAY SO now about poses and expressions. Since you mentioned my loose lines, I have very good advice for that: Draw without erasing. Get a scrap book or some lose paper, cheap paper! And a pen you cant erase, such as a fineliner or a ballpoint pen and then draw. Do not go into it with the intent to make an actual good drawing, just. Draw! Draw half finished faces, hands, bodies, cats, whatever you feel like. Fill up the entire page. If you don't want to waste any paper, do it digitally but don't erase! Do that a lot. You will train yourself to draw loser and loser as time goes on. I've always had the habit of doodling onto everything mindlessly and I still do so I never had to actively practice drawing lose lines but thats most likely the reason why I draw the way I do! I actually have some examples from today because I got distracted at work:

I just draw whatever comes to mind until the page is full. I usually don't even keep these pages :") It has helped me a lot though. Uh yeah thats pretty much everything?? Thanks so much again for sending this ask, it was a very sweet thing to wake up to and I hope my rambles here can be of any help and to you good luck in your art endeavors!! :) <3

[kingsandbastardz]

here u go, ask for trying times: give me your pitch for shipping wudi, i've got maybe one foot on that ship but i'm curious on your thoughts (gl on the all-nighter!!)

I survived it, sorta. The deadlines keep trucking om 😭 So here's my thoughts:

It's really unfortunate that we don't see enough of Wuyan but I do think we have enough of a framework to draw some interesting conclusions about them both relationship-wise. So here's to me heavily analyzing the 5 minutes Wuyan is on screen! LMAO:

Service as show of devotion - Chooses to act like and appear as a lower rank personal servant to dfs even though he clearly has a lot of power to draw from to get things done and dfs tells him he sees his rank as being much higher

Of everyone that focuses their attention on dfs, he's the only one that doesn't want to own or control him (master di - slave, jlq - wife, llh - 主人, fdb - wants to be in charge)

Despite knowing he was massively outclassed, still put himself in lxy's path at donghai

Shared experience: both survived the Donghai battle together and both have matching chest scars courtesy of lxy. They also worked side by side for years to accomplish the same goals

Llh is presented as knowing dfs the best - but imo, that means wuyan knows even more. Wuyan knows all the why's that llh doesn't know

We don't see much general conversation but considering how relaxed dfs is around him and willing to winge about personal things - he seems like he's actually capable of communicating well with dfs lmao

Pure headcanon here, but I want to say he and dfs learned or figured out how to hide their chi at a high level together. DFS uses it all the time and seems to be undetectable even to llh - wuyan seems to be undetectable to the world - I mean i think his name means something like "without presence"? He comes pre-labelled. So I think it's something martial-skill related that would give additional meat to dfs' respect for him

Guards dfs' secrets - how dfs truly feels about all the mengzhu stuff and rankings etc. Don't know if he knows anything about Di Fortress, but anything he does know about dfs' background it's not going to be a topic of conversation

He pays attention to dfs' preferences and knows how to deliver them in the form he prefers (see jlq who doesn't know his preferences and hates that dfs doesn't like what she prepared for him)

As a personal guard, in the early days when dfs was weaker, he likely went with dfs to any secret meetings with llh, hid his chi to keep guard, and was privy to what went on between them. Likely is the only one that would know this information - which is also why he fully understands why dfs is obsessed with llh and supports him. And listened to him mourn him for however many years (I assume he's the one providing clean clothes and food during seclusion so that's 10 years of crying he's been privy to)

Is willing to extend his top level standard of service to the ppl dfs cares about

He acts like he's a nobody, and he's not a pretty face, but everything points to him actually being a very, very competent and high-level guy in his area of expertise? So a good match to dfs. His martial skill isn't comparable, so he can't fight him like lxy, but he can do all the things dfs doesn't like to do - like the organizational stuff, dealing with and managing ppl, etc.

Headcanon again: i can really see them having an experimental phase in their youth together. Like something where dfs and him kinda decide to test things out and then maybe deciding the timing was bad or they weren't into each other like that at that time or whatever. But deciding to remain friends instead. And continuing to build jinyuan alliance together and everything else. It's like best bro + work spouse rolled into one -- with the wild result that they come out even stronger at the end of it. Think lxy + zhan yunfei but they see each other and work together every day. Successfully. With some extra headcanon and a small stretch you can probably position him and dfs as foils to lxy and shan gudao? (Sadly not enough info about the formation of daily workings of JA back then)

headcanon continued: They have to have good communication because they negotiated or figured out how to navigate their Situation and have clearly been at it for awhile - with one being a 'servant' and with the other one having ptsd issues with servitude/slavery. In the waterfall scene we get to see dfs mildly checking in and essentially being all, "Uh, you still good there? Remember you can change things up any time you want. My opinion of you is still A++ fyi" and Wuyan essentially signalling he's fine by continuing on as always.

Wuyan is the last person alive that remembers who dfs was before Jinyuan Alliance and the development of the Di Mengzhu persona. He helped craft that persona.

Basically if you are into themes like fealty and devotion and the sort of comfort you can get from a long time friendship where they've seen each other at their worst. Where they've figured out how to communicate and operate/exist together seamlessly while making allowances for each others' needs and interests. This is it!

They could be queer platonic, they could be sexual, they can be any permutations of anything and it still doesn't change the basis of their relationship which is years of trust, communication, hard work and shared experiences.

Like imagine teenagers - one holding the other guy's hair up while he vomits blood and bile into an alley. Where they patch each others' wounds in the shadow of someone's doorway after getting their asses kicked but somehow also saving each other from getting killed that day. They're the ones that figure out how to kill together. How to hide together. They figure out how to teach others to kill and hide together. They build power with their joined hands and with it they gain the money and prestige that allows them a comfortable place to sleep and full bellies. They give this same thing to others. They build it up so well people can afford to do normal ppl shit like fall in love and get married.

These are things they likely wouldn't have thought of when they were engaged in a battle royale in the street. It's them, their circle of friends, against everyone else in the world. And even when all their friends are now dead - they're still alive. They're still together. They'll see it through.

Maybe one day they'll find their way into each other's beds - the future is ever changing. But whether they do or not doesn't matter - they already have each other. They've survived this much together. Anything else is just icing.

[faraway-sunshine]

Meet Whoever's In My Head #1: Haru

Derived from an old nickname my grandmother used to give me based on my middle name, Haru is my oldest friend besides Mari.

I typed a lot, so information on backstory and why I drew him like this is under the cut.

(Saturday 16th September, 2000, 8:26 PM)

Backstory

When I was little, I don't remember much, but I know I had meningitis. There was an outbreak at my kindergarten, and I got it really bad (this was before I moved to Faraway, by the way). Because of how dangerous it is and how fast it spreads, I was pretty much in isolation in the hospital. According to doctors, I had bad fevers and other symptoms that meant it was a miracle that I pulled through.

My only real memories were missing Mari, seeing crayoned pictures in my room being hung up, and a nurse who felt bad for me and read comic books out loud.

I guess one of the comic books had something about cloning, so I later invented this kind of story that I was actually a clone and my original copy had died of the sickness and that's why I couldn't remember, because it wasn't actually me who went through it. It fit with how I was, as my dad said, "not really the same after". It also fits with how the next time I saw my grandma, who was old and confused, she kept asking for "Haru" and denying I was her grandson.

Later on, I felt Haru's presence whenever I was lonely or screwed up or did something bad. When most prayed to God, I tried to talk with him to figure out what was wrong, what they screwed up when I was cloned, what I was doing that made my family look so worried and sad sometimes in comparison to how they saw Mari.

It got to the point where my memory would black out sometimes, and whenever I described the blackouts to Mari she said she could tell because I seemed almost a different person, seemingly brighter and more out-there and weirdly clingy with my parents (who I was very distant from after being sick) and not seeming to know my friends as well as I should. It scared me at first, but then I extended my prayers sometimes to wanting Haru to take control more, as he seemed to get the "good son" act that I never could.

Although I was sick when I was four, Haru part-grew, part-didn't with me. Like, his face and voice and stuff was still like me as a kid, but he got taller and his intellect mostly kept up. But some "babyish" habits that I abandoned after my sickness, like thumb sucking, persisted as when Haru was there Mom and Dad would find it endearing and wistful seeing me act like I did when I was "happier" (I don't know if I was actually happier, or just better at showing it with them). He also is more likely to see things very black-and-white and stand his ground on odd opinions, and his handwriting and drawing is a lot messier.

He hadn't fronted properly for a while in the time leading up to Mari, but I could feel him in the back and understand some of his thoughts and emotions and what he wanted and liked in comparison to myself. But after Mari died, and once Dad left and Mom was working all the time again, Haru was almost entirely silent. And I felt worse because I remembered the old baby story I told myself and felt I had "failed" at my "purpose" and should have just never been "created" (even as I knew that it can't have been real). Maybe I locked him away deep in my mind to protect him from all these big scary things that were already like that for me, I don't know.

He's slowly emerging back, carefully, as things settle and I figure out how to be a functional human again, but the collapse of the status quo leaves him wondering if he even has a place now in whatever ecosystem my mind is. And if he recognizes us as being at a hospital, doctor's office or similar location he usually darts right away and leaves me or whoever else picks up after wondering why we feel all stressed and scared and sad and alone.

Haru isn't a big fan of scary things or science fiction, unlike how I like comic books and cartoons. His favorite book is Paddington Bear, and every time he sees a train station he makes sure to look for any bears with name tags just in case.

Design

Haru's one of the only ones allowed color in my head. He exudes a sense of innocence, but at the same time, he's trapped in my early childhood in the way that he affects me. I drew him in pajamas both times because in a way, he never left the hospital properly.

The stuffed animal is a weird cat plush with a tail but no proper legs that was a baby toy of mine. It was thrown out at the hospital at some point.

Also, the red line represents the life support he was on. In that first dump, the red stand was some sort of solution. The red here is meant to stand out against the colder, softer color pallet I used for the rest of him. He gets a hospital bracelet too.

His pajamas are a bit too big for him, as hospital issue during a meningitis outbreak in his age group. He's also usually quite tired. That's the only trace of his sickness that he has, though, as I don't remember the rest.

[zlatik-art]

Flash mob idea. I will attach references for two ballerinas and draw the Sun and Moon in their place. It seems that 1.5 people will take part in this, but that’s okay.

@ohno-the-sun

The black swan AU is quite interesting, although I haven’t seen the film on which the AU is based, while I was drawing the storyboard I had a few questions that might get an answer later (it’s probably better to send them directly to the author, but that’s for later.)

1. Are Sun and Moon the only robot ballerinas? Logically, they should have a troupe. No matter how good and wonderful dancers they are, for most productions, other people are needed. On the one hand, this is a very expensive pleasure, but on the other... Why not? If there is a Sun, then why can’t there be others?

2. Are animatronics subject to violence? Moral or physical is not important. For people, these are just robots, which means they have no feelings and can be hurt. I thought about sexual violence (perhaps this is echoes of my personal trauma), after all, they are beautiful and no one would ask their opinion whether it is possible to touch them and if there are any restrictions. Because they work.. do you often ask permission for kitchen appliances to use them?

3. It is unlikely that their theater focuses on only one production. So there are others? Is the sun worried about them? Or is Swan Lake the height of perfection? Which one can't she achieve? Everything else is good, but is a black swan beyond her strength?

Another idea:

I was watching Swan Lake (ballet) for the storyboard... And an idea came to me. Draw Rothbart (the main villain of the production) together with Moon (the black swan in the story is his daughter)

This is great

I want to draw everyone's attention!!! They are different!

1. They are standing on an empty stage that is not even lit. And logically they should stand at the same distance from the center. But no! The sun is closer to the center. It exists as a separate object. And the Moon is only part of it. so She gets a little lost in the dark.

2. They have different feelings. The sun is tense, her movements are sharp (the ribbons on her hands indicate this) Moon is smooth. She smoothly raised her hand and smoothly moved back (ribbons and cap) Because she is confident in her abilities.

3. The sun is heavier. Her clothes are heavy (her dress alone has at least three layers! Petticoat, skirt and feathers on the skirt)

4. The moon is lighter. Her skirt is shorter and lacks a petticoat.

5. Moon’s pointe shoe ribbons are shorter. Just two crossings and a top tie. On both legs. They are identical. Sun is different.

6. Moon’s fingers do not stick together (and this is important for ballet. This creates the effect of lightness and airiness.) The sun holds them tensely together. They even have their arms in different positions (the ones they extended)

6. Moon’s fingers do not stick together (and this is important for ballet. This creates the effect of lightness and airiness.) The sun holds them tensely together. They even have their arms in different positions (the ones they extended)

I feel like an art critic.

@ohno-the-sun

[cfr749]

These comparisons between Lucy going undercover and Tim disappering without a word are so wild. They are not the same at all.

When Lucy is undercover she *can't* make contact and he knows. Tim chose not to make contact, and let her worry.

When Lucy is undercover she is *working*. Tim is clearly having a personal problem and shutting her out.

Bravo to Lucy for upholding her boundaries.

hi anon,

Thanks for the ask. I can see why people are drawing this parallel, but I'm inclined to agree with you that they aren't the same thing.

For the reasons you mentioned, and also because when Lucy goes UC, Tim knows she's UC. We've also seen her make lots of effort to be communicative when she is UC so that he doesn't have to worry unnecessarily.

We've also already seen Lucy push back on the idea that she's going to intentionally keep Tim in the dark about what happens when she goes UC.

But there's one more nuance here for me, which is that I don't think Tim's core issue with UC work is that he's worried about Lucy's physical safety or about the fact that they end up having to be out of contact for extended periods of time. I'm not saying those things aren't challenging, but I think they both have dangerous jobs and worry about each other all of the time. I think they both also have faith in each other's ability to do their jobs and do them well.

Hell, Lucy even signed Tim up for a job that would be more dangerous and limit the time they could spend together, purely because she wanted him to be happy.

I think Tim's core issue with UC is the nature of the work itself, and the fact that he's seen it destroy the lives of people he cares about; he knows the toll the work can take on people emotionally and mentally. He saw it with Isabel and he saw it with Mack. I think he's scared for Lucy, but I think he's also very, very scared for himself.

So from that perspective, I personally feel like Tim's feelings about UC work and Lucy's feelings about Tim's choice to not so much as let her know he was alive for 36 hours when he absolutely knew how worried she was are different things. And I don't see this as Lucy somehow getting a taste of her own medicine, for lack of a better phrase.

And I still can't imagine a world where, if the roles were reversed, Tim would just quietly and supportively stand by for 36 hours doing nothing, which seems to be what people expected from Lucy?

I'm proud of Lucy for upholding her boundaries as well, but I can feel that way and also still be sad that they couldn't figure out how to find a middle ground.

[tac0tesseract]

Time Split

((Edit: Tumblr keeps eating the time-split formatting so I'm putting it in as an image instead fhejrkfhjkehjk ))

“Try it on me.”

“I will not.”

“But I have to understand.” Emma grinned, holding her arms out to the side as if needing to make herself a larger target somehow mattered here. “I can't get better at this if I can't think the way that you do.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You know that's not how it works.”

“I knooooowwww, but I can at least do my best to get as close as possible. That's why we're such a good team! I do the 3D-thinking, you do the 4D, and by our powers combined…”

The smile grew. “We're invincible.”

“Yes!”

Sam sighed, though the smile remained, and he paced a little upon his projection pad. She got the sense he'd be pacing the room if he could; that he'd love nothing more than to move around so freely. It was an existence he did his best not to think about – genuinely desiring the orderly reprieve his chains brought him, while fiercely lamenting their limits. Emma wanted to do more research on how to extend his reach, but she knew that particular search history would not go unnoticed – or appreciated – on their network. Queen was giving her enough grief over Sam as it was.

“Very well,” Sam said at last. “But if I sense even a mote of discomfort, I'm returning you to normal.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Of course it's going to be uncomfortable. I'm a monkey! You've gotta give me time to get used to it.”

That seemed to amuse him. The flowing nebula of his hair rippled in what she'd come to know was his silent laughter. Without further ceremony, Sam extended a hand to her with his fingers pinched together. And when he opened them

It was in that instant that her own startled will kicked in, and Emma somehow snapped herself back into one piece. She sat on the floor like she'd just fallen down the stairs and stared up at him moon-eyed. His arms were still extended as if he'd meant to catch her. Sam slowly straightened. His hair went wild.

“Well that's new.”

“Have you ever used it on a person before?”

“You know how I'm going to answer that.”

Right. Never ask 'have you ever' of a Didymos.

~*~

It was a strange memory to recall in this moment, but Emma couldn't help it – not as she watched the truck-bomb split with that same telltale static that had once enveloped her. She hadn't asked Sam to do it; he'd simply deemed it necessary, knowing full well the weight of the payload it carried and how many lives depended on it. She braced for the question as to why there were two trucks now. Feren was the only other person here who wasn't spooked by NHPs; probably better to blame the time-split on the Lich and call it a day.

That sent her mind sliding elsewhere, to their earlier conversation – to the idea that she had apparently sent herself a warning from a reality where Sam wasn't there. Emma supposed that there was a timeline where Boss hadn't acquired a Didymos, either because he couldn't or didn't want to, but – surely that was a reality where either Sai got the Lich like he was supposed to, or Emma was too batshit to send herself a warning in the first place. No...the only thing that made sense was that she had somehow lost Sam in that failed timeline. And that thought...that thought made her ill.

Can't trust her...

Was the warning about Sam's killer?

“Argh. Focus...” she muttered at herself, drawing a concerned side-glance from his projection.

“Emma?”

“I'm fine. Careful with the time stuff, though. These guys aren't like our home crew, they're...kinda jumpy about it.”

“I'm not worried.”

She chuckled. “Clearly.”

He turned to her screens, as if he had the physical need to look at them. “Got the virus loaded? I'll help you deliver it. Not expecting much, but I'd still like to see whoever's in there try to keep pace with me.”

“Ooooh, I do like when you get like that, though.” Emma was suddenly glad her helmet was on, so he couldn't see how red she was.

It was a welcome distraction, though.

Over six hundred and thirty people were relying on them.

Once this started, it would be utter pandemonium.

She couldn't afford to think too much right now.

[tekamoona]

Theory: The Eighth House, the Stoma & Nona the Ninth

"Don't you dare ask me what I thought of Colum Asht. I will weep."

Thanks for the reminder, Ianthe. I can't imagine Tamsyn brought in Colum for no reason other than 'he's a forgettable guy'. Now I have a loose theory to share!

Soul Siphoning & the Stoma

Colum Asht is specifically named by Ianthe because he's still a loose end. He wasn't in Harrow's dream bubble because his soul wasn't in the River. Something took over his body in the process of Silas vacating it for soul siphoning.

When Colum Asht's body is taken over, it's described as [...] Colum's eyeballs were gone — and now the sockets were mouths ringed with teeth, with little tongues slithering out of them. The tongue in his original mouth extended out, down, wrapping itself around her neck—

When the stoma opens, as Augustine tries to push John into it, it's described as [...] the tongues emerged. [...] Streamlike lingual tentacles emerged — the unassuming pink you got on normal, non-Hell-bound tongues. Generally, the tentacles are described as wrapping around Augustine and John, and pulling them towards the stoma.

There's a similar theme of tentacle-tongues grasping at people here. I'd hazard a guess that when Silas is sending Colum's soul away, it isn't just sent to the River, the soul is sent to the stoma, the mouth of Hell.

And this is corroborated by Augustine's dig at Mercymorn, the founder of the 8th: You never did take the stoma seriously, which is why your whole damned House sucks at it like a grotesque teat--

So it's probably not just that Colum's soul just happened to get swapped out with something from the stoma, but they intentionally send their battery-cav souls there.

Cristabel Oct

Now let's talk about the origin of soul siphoning. Mercymorn seems to have inspired this form of necromancy, given Augustine's comment.

If she practiced this with Cristabel during her time at Canaan House (which is likely, given that soul siphoning was one of the theorems Gideon and Harrow faced in GtN) — she must have sent Cristabel towards the stoma many times as her cav.

Something about Cristabel's description in the words of Augustine strikes interesting: A total delight. Effervescent. Kind to animals and children. A master of the sword. Did not have the intellect you'd ordinarily find in a sandwich or an orange, and was a sickening twerp into the bargain.

Cristabel Oct sounds a lot like Nona.

Nona the Ninth & Alecto

But aren't we fairly certain at this point that Alecto was the person inhabiting Nona this entire time? The ending of Nona the Ninth seems to pretty much confirm this, so I don't think that Nona is necessarily Cristabel full stop.

So I wonder if Alecto was really in the body that entire time. After all, when John describes putting down A.L., he says: Annabel Lee... was not the dying kind [...] It might be more accurate to say that I switched her off.

What better way to displace Alecto's soul without outright killing her than sending it to the stoma, the same way Eighth House necromancers do? He'd have a great, vacuous cavalier from which to draw power... all the while still maintaining his lyctorhood, unlike other lyctors who don't have an empty body to siphon from.

And every time Cristabel was sent to the stoma during her and Mercymorn's lyctorhood research, while Alecto was 'switched off', Cristabel's soul could have mingled with Alecto's, in the same way that Naberius's soul touches Palamedes' when they occupy the same space as bodiless entities.

Cristabel's soul could've given Alecto all the traits with see in Nona that shouldn't reasonably be present in someone who has only been described as monstrous — Cristabel's love for animals and children, her delightful silliness.

As for how Alecto came to inhabit Nona, here we see the brilliance in Colum Asht's example. While his body was vacant, it gave opportunity for something else from the stoma to take his body over. That empty vessel was a house for a stoma-thing to move in.

There is a point between Harrow the Ninth and Nona the Ninth where Gideon is returned to her original body, but Harrow is not inhabiting her own body. At this point in time, Harrow's body is an empty vessel for something from the stoma to take over, and that's where Alecto comes in. It's not just a simple body-swap where Alecto and Harrow have swapped places.

In summary: Alecto, like the stoma-creature that took over Colum Asht's vacated body, took over Harrow's vacated body — and with Cristabel's virtuous traits having touched her soul, became Nona.

...

Footnote: Please let me know if I'm missing something. I haven't fully read the books in a while, just piecing interesting stuff together that seems to have coalesced now that I've finally read this short story.

[drbased]

JKR's racism/racial insensitivity/cultural ignorance isn't particularly special, unique or evil - it's literally just the product of an average white person of her generation. That's not to say that her racism is good, but rather this attempt to frame her as especially problematic is really tiring. White people will criticise 'Cho Chang', safely in the knowledge that their short stories where the main character's spirit animal is a kitsune and the villain has yellow eyes will never be made public.

In my lifetime, I have witnessed a cultural shift. Historically, there was this understanding in mainstream circles that your morals and your politics were kinda separate. But as the internet shifted the conversation, sympathies were extended to oppressed peoples, and it gradually became understood that in order to be a good person, you have to do things like 'not be racist' and 'not be homophobic' etc. Suddenly, everything that was considered a harmless joke was now 'under attack'. Consequently, there was a near-immediate backlash from conservative groups who wanted to preserve the social norms that meant they never had to consider politics in their actions. The conservative understanding is that 'good morals' means a good character - hard working, not complaining, good social etiquette, well-dressed, well-groomed, amenable, patriotic, 'stiff upper lip', not making a fuss, respecting your elders etc. etc. Now, they can't enjoy a good bit of bum-pinching, or laughing at a fake chinese accent anymore. Those things have now been included in a cultural understanding of what compassion is, and they don't like it. They find another way to distance it from 'real morals and good character', by using 'political correctness' as a way to make these new considerations sound cold and heartless, and 'social justice warrior' became a way to make the proponents of these social changes into over-zealous loonies, in the same vein as 'feminazis'.

I strongly believe the social changes towards anti-racism etc. are for the better, and since I joined the 'SJW' circles on tumblr years ago, I have found it heartening to see how much more consideration and compassion can be found in even the most basic of mainstream media.

These cultural changes were spearheaded by people who were already activists, and the conversations were taking place by well-meaning people, the majority of whom were already adults. There was a bit of jostling for where we should draw the line of acceptability (for example, terms such as 'stupid' and 'crazy' ended up being considered acceptable, since they were considered sufficiently separate from their origins as ableist slurs, and too widespread to reasonably remove from the average person's vocabiulary - a conversation that has fizzled out even though I would argue it still needs to be had), and these arguments were not always the most mature, but ultimately a consensus seemed to be reached on who gets to say what, and why.

Over time, however, I have watched the degradation of the initial concepts and I believe it's because of 1. a growing nihilism developed by over-exposure to world issues via the internet, compounded by the collective response to the 2016 electon result and 2. that movements are always influenced by the loudest voices - and often the ones who are willing to speak the loudest are the young people. When I first joined the internet, I was 12, and there were plenty of spaces for young people back then, but none of these spaces were particularly political. The increase in popularity of all-ages, all-demographic social media spaces meant that young people were being introduced to political concepts way beyond their understanding. I was only just 19 when I joined tumblr, and I was ready to clumsily absorb a lot of new ideas - but these days, most people are joining tumblr, twitter, tiktok and beyond as teenagers, some of them perhaps literal children. Unfortunately that means that this delicate balance of rightly criticising people for holding and perpetuating racist, misogynistic, homophobic, ableist etc. beliefs has rapidly degraded into a hyper-individualistic hellscape where what a person says/does is only used against them if they're already a public scapegoat. The overly zealous mentality of the fandom shipping war, where some ships are Evil and some are Pure has spilled out into real-world political discussions. Of course, that's not to say that this wasn't happening at the time - you had to sift through a lot of garbage - but ultimately the people at the core of The Discourse, who were leading the charge of cultural change, were adults with real political chops.

All of this is to say that there's a real irony in how The Discourse has shifted since I first came across it in 2011. The original 'SJW' understanding was that everyone in an oppressor class will say and do and think things that lie on a spectrum of 'problematic' to 'evil' - nobody is safe, everything we do is worth criticism, and it is not the oppressed person's job to coddle you and tell you that you're *actually* a good person when you continue to perpetuate real-world harm. If punching someone in the face means you're an asshole, then so does saying that women belong in the kitchen. The harm in the latter example may be less immediate than the harm in the former, but we're not children anymore, and we should be able to recognise that harm is still caused. Now, however, that aspect of 'check your privilege' is becoming increasingly muddied. There seems to be a collective cultural understanding that now, since we don't see yellowface or 'objectified women' in media anymore, the conversation is Closed, we've Solved Racism and Sexism and Homophobia and Ableism and so on. The treatment of JKR's writing and behaviour as a unique kind of evil akin to nazi dogwhistles is proof positive that people have latched onto this idea that they can 'cancel' women using all the well-meaning ideological rhetoric introduced by the previously hated 'SJWs' (often to protect women as an oppressed group!). The party line of the neo-SJW is that white women are the people that may not technically be the least oppressed, but they're the group that think they're way more oppressed than they are, and therefore deserve to be held to militantly high standards and mocked brutally when they get too out of line. In doing so they have accidentally outed themselves as not subscribing to their own beliefs; it is patently obvious that JKR's racism is nothing special or deliberate or insidious. That doesn't mean anyone has to like her, but the fact that she is clearly being singled out when no other white person (*cough* man *cough*) is.

It's been said before that white people have latched onto gender identity as a way to 'opt out' of being recognised as part of an oppressor class. Now, when we look at statistics about trans people, it's all 'trans man' and 'black trans woman'. Whiteness goes back to be omitted, invisible and assumed, with the 'trans' label being the primary descriptor of what 'type' this person is, obfuscating their relationship with white supremacy and allowing them to present themselves as Oppressed - the Most Oppressed, even. The cultural discourse has pivoted hard and fast to transgenderism, precisely because it diverts the conversation away from real-world oppression and towards easy things like language and indentity. The former makes oppressor classes uncomfortable and implies if not outright demands actionable structural change; the latter means people get to signal 'support' by putting their pronouns in bio and chanting some easy phrases. You get to put yourself on the right side of history by being trans positive, which means you never have to think too much about the other axes of oppression you may lie on. I have seen in my personal life people with centrist views, apolitical people and incels alike will all be supportive of trans people whilst not knowing or caring about any other leftist cause. The cultural discourse needed a conclusion - if 'being a good person means having good politics' is now the cultural expectation, then your average, apolitical normie needed something to signal that they're a good person without any meaninful change in their actual politics. Transgenderism was the easy pick. Mansplaining still gets to be a cultural joke whilst attack helicopter jokes are seen as a cringe product of the ignorant past. People who don't know what gender is (including trans people themselves!) loudly proclaim the support for transgender people's bravery. And people (women) who dissent are the easy scapegoat - bonus points if they're white, because then you get to pay lipservice to the discourse you are deliberately bastardising and cherry-picking from, thus the collective anxieties over actual societal change can be soothed.

[crossdressingdeath]

Astarion: You want to talk? Oh, that's very cute. Kyvir: You made me your spawn... What is going to happen to me? Astarion: 'Spawn' is an ugly word. I really do prefer 'consort'. Kyvir: Does this mean I won't be able to walk in the sun if my tadpole is removed? Astarion: Don't you worry. You have supped of my blood. It will be no trouble to extend a fragment of my protection to you. Just don't stray too far. But you'd never dream of doing that, would you? Kyvir: Cazador could compel you - can you compel me? Astarion: Why would I need to? You're going to be wonderfully obedient. Kyvir: What do you mean to do with me, as your consort? Astarion: As much as I wish to sequester you in a deep chamber of my palace and keep you all to myself, there's much to be done. First we'll take Baldur's Gate. Then we'll take the world. We'll dominate it until the sun itself melts, and then we'll give ourselves to the night. Kyvir: Will you still drink my blood? Astarion: Of course I will, and you'll drink mine. I can't wait to taste your lips after you've tasted me.

I'm quite enjoying the worst husbands in Faerûn, not gonna lie. The dynamic with ascended Astarion and Durge (particularly Chosen Durge) is much more fun than I think it is with anyone else just because they're on much more even terms; I don't know if a vampire can compel a demigod, but definitely Durge is the most likely character to be able to resist him if they so choose.

I really am so curious as to what Astarion's actual plan is for his lover. Assuming he has one. I don't think he's lying when he says that they're his consort, not just a spawn; I vaguely remember reading something about vampire brides being a separate thing in Forgotten Realms lore, and it seems like that might be what Astarion did with his lover. His comments about how he doesn't like calling you his spawn might just be him being pissy about wording, but if I'm remembering right he's also got banter with Minthara where he basically says the gift he gave his lover isn't for anyone else, even though he makes it clear that he does in fact mean to turn spawn in other dialogue. I wish the writing had spent more time on that and less on being preachy...

Also, it's interesting that ascended Astarion has the ability to walk in the sun—one of the main draws of the Rite for him and the main regret spawn Astarion has over not completing it—but seems to hate it and want the sun gone forever. He got everything he wanted, and it doesn't make him happy; honestly I feel like the ascension storyline would be a lot stronger if they focused more on that aspect.

Also why is there no dialogue option to ask for a tasty blood snack from Astarion. He offers his blood willingly! He wants you to drink it! The implications of Astarion offering his blood unprompted when Cazador never let his spawn drink from any thinking creature much less his own are very fun, but like. let me ask nicely to have some of his blood. Yeah I can just walk up to him and chomp him, but let me ask nicely if I can drink from him the same way I can offer mine to him.

[thesparklingwriter]

08: i am not a package

tags: modern au, yn is a famous celebrity, zhongli is a billionaire

summary: when you were younger, it was easy to ignore the problems that surrounded having money or talent. but as the years go by and adult life places more emphasis on these two things, how do you keep promises made in your youth? And how well can you rebuild relationships that have spent years on the back burner?

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The giddy feeling in Zhongli’s chest increases as he approaches the car. Did you find it weird that he remembers your favourite chocolate from years ago? Do you find it weird that he sent you a car? 

He opens the door for you, and you almost jump, looking up from your phone suddenly. You’ve not changed since the day he first saw you—the same hopeful glint shining in your eyes, even as they well up with tears. You look beautiful. So beautiful that the years and money he’s spent trying to find a valid reason to reach out to you no longer seem so wasteful.

He extends his hand out to you but you ignore the gesture, throwing yourself into his arms.

“I’ve missed you,” You sob against his chest. “So, so much.”

His heart swells at your words, as hearing your voice in person for the first time in years. He wants to pick up where you left off—bundle you into his arms and kiss you until the sun comes down, but he knows he needs to exercise restraint. He settles for stroking your hair lightly.

You pull away from him, looking up at him with awe. He’s stunning, finally grown out of the awkward phase he was in when you last parted. His hair is longer than you’d even seen him with before.

It takes every fraction of strength in your body to not run your hands through it, to not cradle his face and wipe his tears away, for fear of being too affectionate too soon. But Zhongli doesn’t seem to care as he does just that.

“You look stunning, my dear.” He says softly.

You hiccup as you laugh, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes. “Even as I cry my eyes out?”

Zhongli smiles at you, a smile that radiates his affection for you as he replies. “Even as you cry your eyes out.” He takes your hand. “Shall we?”

You look around in awe as Zhongli leads you to the building before you. Its traditional style clashes with the more modern building in other gated plots but seems to be such a perfect representation of him that you can't even bring yourself to complain.. He’s always liked traditional things, you think, as he opens the door. Your awe seems to be short-lived, as you turn to face him once again, a devious glint in your eyes.

“So what’s the plan? Do you have a bowling alley here somewhere?” You slip an arm around his waist, and the familiarity of it makes Zhongli lose his train of thought. You’re doing this on purpose. You have to be.

“Unfortunately, there’s no bowling alley.” He smiles.

“Why am I even here then?” You chuckle. You want to pretend to be excited about every corner of the house, but he’d see straight through that. You’re here for him. You don't truly care what you do, as long as you get to do it with him. As you walk, you watch Zhongli carefully. Surely he’s aware that you’ve put two and two together—that you’ve figured out that the Rex Lapis of your childhood and the Zhongli of your future are the same person. You watch him clench and unclench his jaw slightly as he thinks of what to say.

But you’re perfectly happy with things the way they are, albeit silent.

“When were you going to tell me?” You ask.

“Tell you that I bought your company?” Zhongli says. “I’d assumed you’d figured it out a long time ago.”

“You overestimate my abilities,” you slide your arms around Zhongli’s neck and he smiles, carefully drawing circles on your back. It’s strange how you feel no distance between the two of you–even though years have passed, it still feels like the day you first kissed. He’d looked at you with the same amount of affection and joy back then as he does now–if not more. Maybe absence really does make the heart grow fonder.

You lean into him, pressing your face into his chest, feeling his heart beating frantically. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t know you had this effect on him, but you allow yourself to have this moment. One thing your relationship with Zhongli has taught you is that things can change in the blink of an eye–and you don't want to risk that all over again.

“Yn,” he whispers suddenly, stroking your hair. “Can I kiss you?”

You look up at him for a second, surprised at his forwardness, before nodding happily.

© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.

notes: this is a rare occasion where I’m telling you to pay attention to the date on the tweets🩷 first written section of the smau!! after this, i think i got kind of excited so there are a few more written sections coming up, but they will all be shorter than this was. hopefully. also as you guys know i always say i'm gonna save something for later and then i get excited about sharing it so i do it early anyway so have this

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