Dhampir Hunter — Your Mother Was Human, But Your Father Was A Vampire, And You’re Betraying His Ancient

WHAT THE FUCCAA

things i didnt realize were signs of being neurodivergent when i was younger

not being able to stand certain textures of clothes and complaining when i was forced to wear them

being a “picky eater” (and then getting punished for it)

struggling to understand gender norms (like being told long hair is for girls, short hair is for boys, certain colors decide your genitals apparently, etc)

reading the same short story books over and over again

getting sensory overload constantly and thinking that im just too sensitive and it must be a character flaw i have to fix

bringing certain objects or belongings with me everywhere for comfort

spending way too long making up my own fantasy worlds or stories

fellow ND people please feel free to add on (neurotypicals welcome to reblog but dont clown)

this is one of my favorite videos ever

this randomly blew up on twitter so i figured i’d post it here bc lord knows everyone on this app is neurodivergent

THE GREAT ASS-SMACKING WAR

character(s): Caleb Xia x f!reader (fluff)

having an ass slapping contest with best friend caleb

wc: 1.4k

The lock of the bathroom in your shared apartment clicked and your body reacted immediately, paddling down the hall to get your nail polish remover from what Caleb had decided to turn into his personal spa for a solid hour.

As you entered, you had to waddle all the hot steam away from your face with one hand, maintaining a hold on an apple juice-box with the other.

Caleb stood by the sink, wrapping a towel around his hips, water dripping from his bangs onto his wide chest as he did so. He jolted slightly at your sudden presence slipping behind him but paid you no further attention - used to you mingling in his business and him in yours.

You rummaged through the cabinet until you pocketed the bottle and began to make your way back out of the bathroom, chewing on the straw, but then-

You paused.

There he was.

Caleb was bent over, reaching for something under the sink, towel sagging so dangerously low that the temptation got the better of you. Without even processing it, you jabbed a freezing cold finger straight down his partially exposed ass crack. 

The reaction was instant.

Caleb let out a squirrel yelp of such high pitch that no man his size should be capable of. His whole body jerked as if you tazed him, spine snapping back and arching as the towel slipped from his fingers and fell with a soft thud.

“Wha- PIPS- WHA- OH MY GOD!” he shrieked, face flushed, hands flailing around as he fumbled for anything to cover himself up.

You stood there unmoved, watching the 6'2" wall of muscle panic like a Victorian lady who just flashed an ankle on the street.

And just when he managed to clutch the towel with both hands, crouching away from you to preserve at least some of his dignity, you raised one hand-

SMACK.

The slap echoed.

He froze. Eyes wide. Mouth hanging open. Dignity? What dignity. Shattered… Completely.

…

…

He stared at you like you had just smacked his soul instead of his naked ass.

You raised the juice to your lips, still not breaking eye contact with him in the utter silence.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

“Ah~,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Whore.”

And you escaped the room at the speed of light.

“KISS MY ASS!”

“Gladly!” you screamed back at him from the hall.

“Freak!”

“Certified!”

On that beautiful blooming spring day, Thursday the 7th of March, 'The Great Ass-Smacking War' began.

Somehow, it became a truth universally acknowledged, that landing a bare-cheeked one counted double but also that the battlefield was restricted solely to the premises of the apartment complex; the elevator, stairwells, garage, rooftop, lobby, and other semi-public areas, all included.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 2: The Rooftop. He led me here. Lured me out under false pretense of stargazing and a truce. I believed him. “He wouldn't,” I thought. He did. “For yesterday,” he hissed at me. I have a red imprint now. A crow made eye contact with me. It knew…

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 16: The Elevator. I hit the button. She hit me. A clean strike. I fear we have entered a point of no return.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 51: The Stairwell. I took the stairs to avoid him. He was already there, waiting for me. Mid-step. It was a full palm one - sent me back up three steps and made me see a spirit. I can still hear his demonic cackle.

Captain Caleb’s Log -  DAY 183: The Lobby. I managed to retreat before retaliation. Civilians were alerted. A toddler next to her screamed too. One passerby asked, “Sir, that’s your girlfriend?” To which I replied, “Not anymore.” Victory: Absolute.

Y/n’s War Journal - DAY 243: The Garbage Chute. His hands were full - a defenceless state. He moaned. “Biodegradable,” I said. * The garbage man high-fived me.

It’s been a long day at uni and you just stumbled into the apartment, heavy bags dropping to the floor, back hurting, stomach grumbling, you name it.

But the apartment… dead silent. It was unusual for Caleb to not be blasting music in the kitchen, let alone not calling out to you the moment you came back - taking your jacket and bags from you like the housewife he prided himself to be. 

“Caleb?” you called out, hanging up the keys.

No response.

You took off your shoes and placed them on their spot right next to Caleb’s. He had to be in the apartment - all of his pairs were in place, not a single one missing.

“Gege?”

…

“Clownboy?”

…

“Cilantro?”

You furrowed your brows, cringing at whatever the fuck just left your own lips.

Your coat slid down your shoulders and as you freed yourself from it, it brushed right below your ass, sending a shiver down your bare legs.

It all clicked.

Your mini skirt. Caleb had pestered you about how short it was just this morning and you were in the lead after scoring in the garbage chute.

“Oh fuck off, Caleb!” you yelled out, backing into a wall, ass flush against the cool surface like it was a question of life and death. “This isn’t fucking funny! I’m tired, alright?!”

Silence.

You started shuffling sideways along the hallway, eyes darting all over the place. Every doorway was a potential trap - he could be anywhere.

“I swear to god, if you jump me, I’m shoving your Millennium Falcon down the toilet!”

A floorboard creaked behind you.

You whipped around.

Nothing there. 

Another creak but closer. Then behind you. That dickhead was playing with you, applying pressure all over the floors with his evol.

If you could just get to the bathroom... Lock yourself in there and take a warm shower. Relax a little. Change into some comfy sweats...

You kept dragging your ass along the walls. Almost there. The bathroom’s door knob came within reach surprisingly easily. It was now just across the hall. What was he playing at? Maybe he was napping this whole time? Could you have miscounted the shoes?

And just as you peeled away from the wall, reaching for the door, it flew open.

You screamed.

Caleb burst out like a line-backer. He tackled you - one thick arm snaked around your waist, yanking you off the floor, the whole world turning upside down. There was no escaping his grasp now. Your legs wiggled in the air and your head hung by his knees, hair dragging across the floor.

That left one thing exposed - the entirety of your ass, right there, right next to his smug face.

“BEHOLD!” he howled, “THE GODS OF WAR HAVE CHOSEN ME AS THEIR CHAMPION TODAY!”

You shrieked, “CALEB! NO- LET ME GO, YOU ABSOLUTE MENA-"

SMACK.

You gasped.

“You chose this path for yourself!” he hissed, eyes wild. “Right here, in this sanctuary!”

SMACK.

“I WILL SHIT IN YOUR PROTEIN POWDER!”

SMACK.

“YOU WERE THE ONE WHO STARTED THIS!” he screamed back, dodging your wild kicks, “I’M ENDING IT! HERE AND NOW!”

SMACK-SMACK.

You kicked and flailed and cursed, but it was too late; the scales had tipped.

A final thunder-smack echoed through the hall.

You gasped. Mouth agape. Eyes bloodshot, brimming with tears. That wasn’t just a slap. That was centuries of ass-smacking tradition coursing through his palm.

Caleb dropped you like a sack of potatoes onto the floor, breathing heavily, triumphant grin etched into his red face, while you lay there. Betrayed. Violated. Spiritually wrecked and left in complete ruins.

You rolled onto your back with a groan.

Then, still gasping for air, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out an apple juice box. Looking down at you sprawled on the floor, he caught the straw between his lips.

SLLuuuUuUuuUURrrRRppPpppPPppPpPPPppPpp

He sighed, leaning against the counter. “You know what this tastes like?”

You twitched on the floor.

“Tastes like justice.”

He crouched down next to you, poking your cheek like a toddler checking if a cockroach is dead.

“You good?”

“My ancestors were watching this shitshow.”

He patted your head. "Bet they're still clapping."

And just as he rose to leave, you summoned the last speck of strength you had left in your broken soul, dragging your phone out.

You opened the contacts list.

“Okay,” you huffed, propping yourself up with one shaking arm, pressing the phone to your ear. “You think this is over?”

Beeeeepppp

He turned, mid-strut. “Uh, yeah?”

Beeeeepppp

Beeeeepppp- “Yes, kitten~?”

You smirked. “Let’s see how you do against three and a bird.”

tag list for my beloved: @cordidy, @midiplier

Well put. (Source: Writing About Writing Facebook page)

there should be a podcast of the actual podcast of only murderers in the building, like I would listen to that religiously.

How to convey information through dialogue without shoehorning it in

So you have information you want to plant into your story, and you would like to do that through dialogue. Naturally, you'd want to make the dialogue look natural, so that it doesn't scream -> This Piece Of Information <- Will Be Relevant To The Plot Later!!! I never saw any writing advice about this subject, so I thought I’d write up a post about it.

Say, for example, you want to plant the information that Barney is afraid of fridges. Fridges? Jup. That's weird. Jup. Which makes it all the more difficult to bring up in a scene. And what makes it even more difficult, you decided you want this dialogue to take place before the Thing With The Fridge Happens later on, so you're in a pickle. How do you bring up a fear of fridges, when there are no fridges around?

First, I'm going to show you how shoehorning the information in a dialogue would look like.

Don't do this:

Annie and Barney are in a scene that has nothing to do with fridges.

Annie: "By the way," she asked casually, "have I ever asked you what your worst fear is? Since we’re on this quest together, we should know these things about each other."

Barney: "Fridges. They scare the bejeebers out of me."

Annie: "Fridges?" She laughed incredulously. "How come?"

Barney: "Well, one time my brother locked me into a fridge, and I've been afraid ever since."

Annie: “That makes sense, Barney. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Try to avoid using things like “by the way” or “suddenly” in this part of the dialogue, because that’s a shoehorn red flag.

Instead, you want the conversation to flow from something inconspicuous to the information you want to plant and then into at least one other topic.

Do this:

Annie and Barney are in a scene that has nothing to do with fridges, for example they are thrown into a snake pit during their quest.

Barney deals with venomous snakes without a second thought.

Annie, in the corner, trying to get a hold of herself: "I can't believe you're not afraid of those snakes."

Barney: "You just got to know how to handle them."

Annie, in awe: "You're fearless."

Barney, laughs: "Trust me, I'm not. You should see me around fridges."

Annie: "Fridges...?"

Barney: "My brother locked me into one when we were little. I almost suffocated. Never trusted them ever since. Nor my brother, obviously."

The conversation continues about his relationship with his brother, making it seem like that's the important bit. You sneaked the information about Barney's fear for fridges into the dialogue about snakes and his brother.

Let’s break that down, shall we?

This conversation has three topics: snakes, fridges, and Barney’s brother. The snakes and Barney’s brother don’t really matter. They could just as well be completely different topics. (I'll show you later.) Their only function is to ease into the conversation about Barney’s fridge fear and ease out of it without drawing the reader’s attention to its importance.

Topic 1: Something present in this scene that has a thing in common with topic 2

Discussing the snakes feels organic and natural, because they are kind of hard to ignore in this scene. Make the first topic something related to what the characters see, feel, experience in that particular scene… Write a piece of dialogue about topic one.

Topic 2: The information you want to plant

Then transition into the topic switch. How? The topic of fridges and the topic of snakes have one thing in common: fear. Specifically, Annie is afraid of snakes and Barney isn’t, but he is afraid of fridges. Bringing this interesting bit into the conversation changes the topic again, because how can you not go into a sentence like this?

Topic 3: Anything related to topic 2 you can latch onto

The topic is changed yet again after the information you planned to plant. Just let this part of the dialogue run its course. It doesn’t matter much what you do with it, as long as you don’t stop the dialogue right after the moment you delivered the line you needed to deliver. The trick is to make the conversation flow to and from your chosen topic.

Let’s look at another example, something more realistic. You still want to convey the fact that Barney is afraid of fridges, but this time, Annie and Barney are not on a quest, they are in a romance novel.

Barney and Annie are looking out over the ocean. She brought a bottle of wine, a light breeze cools their skin, in the distance, a cargo boat slowly glides along the horizon. It seems like a perfect moment.

Barney raises his glass and compliments Annie: “You pick great wine.” (topic 1)

Annie: “Thanks. I did a wine course last year in my local community center, a series in which we learned all about the different kinds of wine and what to pair it with.”

Barney: “Sounds like fun. You should teach me sometime. Did you get to taste everything?”

Annie: “Yeah, of course. That was the main reason I joined. What about you? Which wine do you prefer?”

Barney: “Oh, I’m not a connaisseur. I like anything but white wines.” (change of topic)

Annie: “Why not?”

Barney, embarrassed: “Red wines are usually kept at room temperature, and white wines go in the fridge.”

Annie, after a second: “I can’t see the problem there.”

Barney, embarrassed: “Ah. Well. I don’t like fridges. Like, not at all. My brother once locked me into one, and – well, let’s say it was a hugely traumatic experience.” (boom, there it is: topic 2)

Annie, confused: “But – How do you keep your food fresh?” (change of topic) (doesn't necessarily have to happen so soon after The Line)

Barney, still embarrassed: “I go to the supermarket every other day.” (topic 3)

The conversation continues about going to the supermarket every other day and foods that Barney can't eat because they spoil too fast outside of the fridge. Annie is surprised to hear how many things can be kept at room temperature for a day or two. (topic 3,5)

That's it, folks :)

I hope this was helpful. Don’t hesitate to ask me any questions, and happy writing! This post was inspired by a question from @therska.

Follow me for more writing advice, or check out my other writing tips here. New topics to write advice about are also always appreciated.

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@therska @writingwordsanddrawingpictures @the-words-we-never-said @writingwhithotchocolate @i-rove-rock-n-roll @maskedlady @no-time-like-write-now @timefire25 @black-lakritz-dragon @nzmayart @fandomrandomness-stuff @dangertoozmanykids101 @anaestheticdisaster @storytellingofravens @purpleshadows1989 @mathematicpony @i-don-t-know-words @notquitenovelist @coffeescribles @reffaces @livingthelovelylife @katsglabella @lokitty-is-my-spirit-animal @thefallenbibliophilequote @watchmewritedumb @sting-the-scribe @kais-writing-shit @dameschnee123 @curiosityonmars @oodlittlething

Altair and Yasmin promt

Yasmine strangles a man in a choke hold and Zafira heard Altair muttered under his breath lucky bastard before proceeding to throw his scimitar against an oncoming enemy.

nothing can top the beauty when seeing an old cat or any old animal being very playful again as if they were still a baybbee. beautiful. you are radiating joy. i am very happy