#{ but I'm running out of ideas on this blog and it feels so cluttered }

[hummingbird-games]

2023 In Review (Indie Games)

Last year's! | 2021

I apologize in advance for how long this might be. As a reminder, I don't bash games here so even if I hated something with every fiber of my being...I ain't sharing. As a second reminder, my more in depth reviews and live blogging has moved to Gem's Game Gems so I don't clutter the HBG's main blog. Okay. ON WITH THE REVIEW!!

DEMOS

Diffraction (Demo)- A rainy day otome indeed. I love the quiet gentleness of this game, the two romance options, and the fact that our MC is a photographer and struggling with her art and stack of life "failures" (because...SAME!!)

Alaris - I was asleep and now I am awake: I came late for the advertised fae and dragon lore, stayed seated and waiting for Fenir zjgjdf. Oh, and I guess the mystery surrounding our MC's abilities LOL.

The Summit Library - When I say I was maaaaaad when I realized I blew through chapter 1 and would have to go back to waiting for more content??? LOL, I was very miffed. Anyhoo, check out this title for the gorgeous art, another intriguing mystery (like what is *up* with the magic in the poor library?? who or what is to blame?? 👀) and of course the lovely characters we've been introduced to thus far.

Of Sense and Soul - I'm a regency romance girl. Like after you strip away the other stuff, I am but a poor woman with simple needs: a good ass love story 🤧💛 It's about the yearning and the slow burn and the will they/won't they/PLEASEEE they...I've never been so charmed by a demo, and the full game is going to be amazing I just know it!

Made Marion - This project is a game I've been keeping tabs on for a hot minute but hadn't taken the time to sit and properly enjoy the demo. I'M SO GLAD I DID!!! It's in early access now, so I'm hoping eventually I'll be able to carve out some time to play, but guysss Velvet Cupcake is doing the Thing?!? No idea which love interest I'll go for first, but I had a fun time meeting the Nottingham peeps in the demo.

Herotome (Super Demo) - Oh gosh. Oh gosh oh gosh oh my GOSHHH. Where do I even began?? (Really the question is where the hell do I end because this is one of those projects I talk about a lot/think about a lot and surprisingly haven't run out of things to say zkjfksjd). Another game I've been following for a while, it 100% lives up to the superhero genre in its aesthetic, the characters you interact with, the music and sound design, and of course the slowly unfurling story. Jade and Mia had come out as my top faves, Warden is still there, like hovering in the backgroud, shhhh but I have a special place in my heart for Griffin too (that conversation we have with her?? I have so many screenshots just so I can go back and reread and sear the words in my brain. Like a weirdo. Yup.)

Celestial Crowns - Stats building, celestial royalty, dating sim where you fuck around and find out your choices directly affect your MC's personality?? I'm sat. I supported the Kickstarter and now I try to practice patience for the full game's release siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighh.

OTOME/JOSEI JAM

Please note this is a SUPER abridged list for my sanity and I fell a little more in love with these 2 jams with each entry I played...

Intertwine - As embarrassing as it sounds, I've never given much thought to the "red string" thing, and I consume more than enough romance media LOL!! But Van is suuuuuch a beautiful man, the UI for this game is so interactive and lovely, the music is ALSO lovely, just lovely-love all the way around teehee. (Also this game encourages replayabillity so like, do with that info what you will.)

Spring Boy [Demo] - I believe this game is going through a complete rehaul, so my thoughts and feelings refer to the original jam entry I played. The art is bright and cute and it's a super super short demo, but I was intrigued by the other student we meet on our mission to plead with our professor about our bombed exam lol!

Assignment Due: Project Blue - IRl group projects??? Suck absolute ass. Group projects with a guy name Asher?? Suddenly it's my new favorite thing in the world 😁

Cryptid Campaign Manager [DEMO] - Remember the last time I looked over a cryptid dating sim??? Remember how I was SUCH a fool?? Good thing I didn't make that mistake again!! The prologue is such a tease but you get an idea of what the full game is gonna be like, and I'm excited to see where my career involving love (and politics) goes!

Heart Cage [Demo] - Yoooooo I stay my ass far far far away from yanderes (could never get into the trope or the character type). WELP. Guess I just needed to keep searching because I really downloaded this off a whim--well, the whim being one of my fellow dev peers playing and rating-- and proceeded to get sucked in 🤧I thought being a detective would be the highlight, but I guuuueeesssss I was more into the romance options than I thought. Oops.

Evernight - I tried to explain what this game meant to me on the side blog, but words failed me. I still don't know what to say other than I loved it?? Which is like ummm I say I love everything, and yeah I'm easy to please BUT Y'ALLLLLL if you play no other game, play this one. Please. Date a werewolf. Or a vampire. Or a fae. Plz. Also figuring out the mystery of your MC's abilities and past is just delightful, ugh.

Bright Oak (demo) - Anotha one I wrote about on the side blog!!! Play this one!!! The writing is lush and atmospheric and the characters are all delightful and it's another game with a mystery to untangle!

The Faithfulness of the Universe- This one gets the award for most unique all around entry that I played. Theeeeee prettiest pixel art to bless my eyeballs, and this tasty mystery concerning Fate and witch Faustina's future (or lack thereof 👀) and what it all means. As a player I very much want to know what it all means!

A Cup For All Seasons - Another game that needs its flowers y'all. It's short but super healing and super cozy and the voice acting and music really tie the gaming experience together???

The Working Woman's Guide to Burning Bridges - DEMO - It's the way I played the demo twice and I've been thinking about it ever since 😭😭😭🙃 obviously life happens and things come up, plus this was a demo. But. BUT!!! I am on my hands and knees prayinnggg the team gets together again to finish the game. I love playing as a stressed, lowkey bitter hot mess who doesn't have her life together 😂somehow the fictional version is soooo much more entertaining!!!

Keyframes (Spring Demo) - After the game College Craze, this is legit THE college, slice of life visual novel of my dreams. I cannot wait for the updated demo next year, and the Kickstarter whenever that rolls around. And now that the developer is on Tumblr, I've definitely been stalking the account and reading each new post like it's my day/night/weekend job 🤧

Hello Counsel 💋 - Okay I take it back, Evernight is like a 20/10 but Hello Counsel is like an 100/10 👁️👄👁️ This game is necessary for my mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual health, alright? The banter ✅ the character designs ✅ the music ✅ the sizzling chemistry between Poise and Salem ✅ I wish this game had more buzz because IT'S SO GOOD!!! (also the dev, Miseri, is who I wanna be when I grow up. I've made it through almost their whole backlog of games and there are no misses and EVERY game is different from the rest and it makes it hard for a toodler dev--ME--to cope LOL)

Candied Hearts - Isekaied into a candy themed game?? Sign me TF UP!!! (Peppermint I love you dearly, you must understand.)

Fully Released & Played (at least 1 playthrough)

The Knight's Dilemma - I don't even know how I originally stumbled upon this??? I just know it had been in my backlog for a hot minute and I was intrigued enough to save it way back when. Y'ALL WHY DIDN'T I PLAY SOONER SKJFHFJFH! There's a couple different endings, I loved the voice direction, AND it's such a simple concept of a game that was just executed beautifully.

Trouble Comes Twice - If I had to make a top 5 list of romance VNs, guess who makes the list?? Guess. Guess guess guess. Have you guessed yet??? LOL! I have been in love with TCT since it's development days and with each passing month, waiting in anticipation, playing the Pateron beta builds, screaming on the main blog about every single thought I had about Jace and Hazel (shoutout to Jace for helping me figure out *me*) Lol if you're curious about said thoughts, those posts are on this blog and not the side blog.

Aelfric the Wondrous - 10/10 would love to forget my first play through JUST to have that experience fresh again 😭😭💛Cute and funny and a wonderful parody type game all around.

A Summer's End - Hong Kong 1986 - Goodness, there's no excuse for why this took me years to finish but anyhoo, I finished, I loved it, I recommend it! It's romantic and achingly authentic and the art is soooo gorgeous I literally can't stand it 😭

The Things You Do For Love - Unhinged yandere manages to entertain and garner sympathy and laughter from Gemini. And that poly ending is chef's kiss too????

Band Camp Boyfriend - There are a handful of games I found and loved before I began my game development journey, and this is one of them. BCB is so dear to me, because of the story and characters but also because of the Dynamic Duo creators and their team behind the scenes. I was never a band kid I was a chorus kid but just as the band geeks loved this game to pieces, us normal folks do too!! Even the boys who I didn't like I STILL managed to find joy in playing their routes (still have a few more to finish at the time of this posting lol, GOTTA GET THE FINAL ROUTE YO). Anyway, this game more than delivered for me and I hope more people keep discovering it!!

Belle Automata: Chronicle I [RELEASED] - While only Chronicle 1 is out at the time of this posting, I already know that the 2nd and 3rd parts are going to be just as amazing???? I wrote about this one on the side blog, so here's my copypaste that still rings true:  

I love TNP (The Nightmare Prince) but Victor’s route hit the sweet spot for me. Maybe it’s the slow(er) burn nature of this route, maybe it’s the reserved nature of Victor and watching him slowly start to care (AND NOT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THOSE FEELINGS TEEHEE) for me.

A Date with Death - I wrote about this on the side blog--again--. The demo. And then right after finishing a route. And then again where I was fully awake and still managed to sound deranged. No copypaste for that, I shall be nice. But yeah!! Another game where I was screaming at the sky about how much I love it and how I'll never know peace as long as I live.

Our Life: Baxter DLC - I need to offer an official apology to both Cove and Derek because falling head over heels, down the stairs, crashing into the parking lot, falling again but down a manhole for Baxter's infuriating ass was NOT on my 2023 bingo board??? HELLO???? I bought his DLC just to complete my OL collection. Was not expecting to love it this much. Was not expecting to be called to write fanfic and abandon all responsibilities to do this. WHILE DOWN WITH COVID TOO. Allow me to play the song of my people. *Send in the Clowns plays*

Our Cinderella - (this is so funny I'm taking about a side game before the main game LOLOLOLOL) Guys. Guysss. You guyyyysss 🥹if you're looking for a cozy, hilarious, equally oddly and wonderfully sweet short game, this is the one!! You may have your personal favorite Iggy ship (like me) but all the pairings are so amazing and just make sense lol!

Wylde Flowers - This is the only non visual novel game on here but it gets the spotlight because I did NOT spend 90+ hours on this game to gatekeep this beauty. No. It the coziest, the funniest, the funnest, the most addictive Switch game (after Teacup) I've ever played.

Fully Released (& still on 1st playthrough)

Garden of Seif: Chronicles of an Assassin - Life kicked my butt and then sat on me SO while I finally got my grubby hands on the full copy, I still have only played the entirety of the demo. But. We will return to this in 2024 and hopefully I'll have a full review for the next wrap up!

Our Wonderland - I looked back at the side blog and I can't believe it was only THIS year that I started OW??? Because I'd known of the game and the dev for longer than that??? So basically what I'm saying is that I was chicken shit for longer than I've been in love with this world that Developer Carrot has created kjzhhshggj. But OMG to get me, who is scared oh so easily to get hella invested in this clearly labeled horror game??????????????? And even with shit gets super absurd and hella disturbing, I cannot stop playing. At the time of this post, I'm only in Act 4, hence the category above, but it's only because I play each act in a sitting and lose track of space and time and myself. That's a compliment btw.

...

Okie!! That's 2023 in a nutshell! I played a looooot of really good games this year and while I would have liked to talk about them all, I think this list provides a nice overview.

Let me know if we share any favorites!

- Gemini ���

[orionsangel86]

Saz's Sandman Masterpost

Hi there! It's about time I sorted out this blog and put all my Sandman posts in one place. If you're new here, I adore the Sandman in all its forms and my blog has become a bit of a love letter to this masterpiece of media lately. I mostly write meta analysis, love to discuss the work and the characters, and occassionally try my hand at running fandom events. My ask box is always open and I am always happy to answer any questions about Sandman so please do reach out to me if you like my meta :)

I welcome all fans of The Sandman here, though I can occassionally be NSFW so if that's not your jam make sure you have "NSFW" tag blacklisted. I'm a multishipper of the firm believe that Dream of the Endless should be passed around the other characters like a bowl of goth candy. I don't tolerate ship hate. It's all good here my loves.

I have a fairly decent tagging system. I tag all ships, characters, fanart, meta discussions, fanfiction, etc. You can find the list of common tags below.

My Meta Analysis

Masterpost of Dreamling meta - this is an eight part highly detailed analysis of Dreamling in the show and how it differs from the comic and audiobook, with a focus on how queercoding was used to emphasise a deeper relationship between Dream and Hob.

Hob Gadling - A Queer Romantic - a meta about unreliable narrators, Jim/Peggy and Hob's queer potential.

The Problem with Thessaly - an opinion piece on this problematic comic character and how the show could solve this issue.

Lucienne/Lucien - How the Librarian Became the Chief - a thorough analysis of Lucienne's character in the show and how she differs from the comic and makes everything so much more hopeful.

Tales in the Sand/Men of Good Fortune - How a small swap in story placement can drastically change the tone, and foreshadowing.

Dream of the Endless - A Romantic Fool - a deep analysis about Dream and his love of romance

How to Adapt Orpheus - Theories and discussions about how the show can navigate that particular element of the comics.

How to Adapt Orpheus x 2 - definitely worth reading all the discussions on this one as well.

Shipping comic!Morpheus and merging characters in the show - can I hear it for Morpheus/Pharamond PLEASE!

A Collaborative Post about Morpheus as the villain of the story

Could Morpheus ever be content to be single?

Morpheus and Sex - an analytical point of view

Obsessive Desire - Their complex feelings for Dream - an answered ask about the siblings relationship. (I have a draft meta in the works elaborating on this that I can't wait to finish).

Fandom Events

#Death Appreciation Week - To celebrate the release of Dead Boy Detectives which guest stars Death of the Endless, I ran a Death Appreciation Week where anyone could submit fanworks focused on Death. Follow the tag on my blog which also includes a lot of reblogged older works of Death, or follow the main tumblr tag to see just that work created for the event.

#Sandtober2023 - For inktober 2023, I ran a Sandman themed inktober event which was a huge success and inspired hundreds of amazing Sandman art pieces. You can check out the Sandtober2023 main tumblr tag here. I am probably going to run this event again in October 2024 so watch this space nearer the time for that! :)

If you have any ideas for Sandman fandom events you would like to see please send me a DM.

General Blog Tags

I have a relatively consistent tagging system on my blog so to cover the main ones:

#The Sandman - literally every post about the Sandman will include this tag, so if you are a loyal mutual from fandoms past and you want to block this tag you won't see me cluttering up your feed with Sandman stuff (and thank you for still following me even if you're not a Sandman fan!)

#Dreamling - tag for the Morpheus x Hob Gadling fandom ship. I will tag all things Dreamling - fanart, fanfics, fan theories, crack posts, gifsets etc.

#Sandman Meta - any analysis about Sandman will be tagged with this. This includes both my own analysis and reblogged analysis.

#Sandman Comic Spoilers - I tag for any posts that include Sandman story information not yet revealled in the show. In case there is anyone left on Tumblr who hasn't already been spoiled for this 30 year old comic story.

Character Tags - I generally tag for any characters I reblog or post about. So if you ever want to search for posts about a specific character, you can just find the character tag in my blog. For example #Dream of the Endless or #Johanna Constantine

Ship tags - like with character tags, I always tag fandom ships. Usually by the most popular fandom name for them. #morphanna #Gaultienne

Other fandoms - I will also always tag other fandoms. I have a very long running #destiel tag, I also tag for #good omens and #ineffable husbands and I will always tag the show name, abbreviation, and ship names for any other fandoms.

Other tags - I do try to tag for content warnings where I can, but usually only extreme things. Then again, it is rare for me to post about triggering content. Even squicky content is unlikely to be found on my blog. If you ever come across something on my blog that you feel isn't tagged appropriately please just DM me and I will correct that.

A bit about me

If my blog intro hasn't covered it so far let me clarify here. I am an adult, in my 30s and have never stopped being a passionate fan about the things I love. You don't stop loving things when you hit a certain age, you just find you have less time to devote to your hobbies because of work. I am a professional with a full time job, I come here to relax and unwind. I have been in fandom far too long to be remotely interested in fandom drama. Ship wars do not interest me. Weird anti-sex anti-kink purity policing has no power here. I am fiercely anti-censorship. If I hear the word "proship" in a negative sense I will roll my eyes and assume you are a minor who has been horribly mislead by puritanicals. I don't tolerate hate, accusational bullshit, bullying behaviour, cult-like fandom worship, or any form of fandom policing. I have no time for "big name fans" and the culture around them. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt and the trauma. Learn your fandom history lest you be doomed to repeat it.

I do not engage in performative social justice. I have my beliefs, my politics, and they generally revolve around the concept that people should be fucking decent human beings and let people be free to live as they choose. Don't come at me for not yelling about the next big world ending event. The world is always ending, people are always dying, there is always a genocide happening, its fucking exhausting. Just do what you can in your actual lives, donate where you can manage, provide support to those in need, and vote out the bastards who fucked it all up.

If you've read this far and are still here welcome! I hope you love my blog and want to be fandom friends. Come send me an ask, a DM, reply to my posts, engage with my meta, and just generally scream at me about Sandman. I always love it when people scream at me about Sandman. :)

[haveyoureadthismcytfic]

Hi! I'm curious, so may I ask why you choose not to include info like ratings and Major Archive Warnings in the posts? I love, love, love the concept of this blog and I think it's a really fun way to bring attention to hidden gems, and while I understand why you might not want to include *all* the tag metadata, as including the rating, the MAWs, the ships, the characters, aaand the freeform tags would rapidly make your posts feel very long and cluttered; but if you are accepting blog critique at all, I do think there could be value in at least making the fic rating and any Major Archive Warnings clear in the post, or even just in the tags.

Alternatively/additionally, I know there's the spreadsheet from the form submissions, but a dedicated pseud (or fresh ao3 account, if there are several mods) for bookmarking all the submitted fics could be brilliant for the purposes of this blog functioning as a way for people to find new fics, as unlike the collections function (which also comes into a second pitfall in the fact that people can opt out of having their work added to collections) the bookmarking feature has the tag filtering system built in.

Sorry this got a bit wordy, feel free to ignore it. I hope the mod/s of the blog have a lovely day! <3

The reasoning behind not including tag information is because I assumed people would look at the tags for themselves if the fic interested them based on the content of the summary and potentially the note from submitter. I often tell people to make sure they look at tags anyway if they have things that trigger them or that they would rather not read. I didn't see it as necessary, especially since this blog is technically just a "have you read it" blog, though I will admit that the true intention is for people to share fics they love to give the authors love and give other fans recommendations they may not have found otherwise.

It is only me, one person, running this blog. I could potentially have a pseudo specifically for this blog, because getting a new account requires a week wait, but I've never done a pseudo account before. All of my fan works are posted on one account. Bookmarking is a good idea for filtering, however, so I could spend the time I was going to spend right now queuing up more posts to catch up and bookmark things. I shall look into it and see if it makes sense to me.

Thank you, I hope you're doing well as well.

Update: I tried to create a pseud for the bookmark thing, but it only tangled them in with my main account's bookmarks, so I am not going to do that. This blog still works for that, and the spreadsheet exists. Plus, I tag the fics with [fandom] fanfic or [fandom] fanfiction depending which pops up for me or which I type if it doesn't so that's one way as well. In addition, ctrl+F search

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

Hi! Just found this blog recently and I really like how you write the characters, was wondering if you could do a story with eyeless jack trying to confess to a male reader (or gn reader if it's more comfortable for ya)

I wanna know how you think he would handle something like that, would he be nervous, confident, straightforward?? Giving me brain worms rn lol

Ty ty! It always makes me feel so nice when people like my writing!

Thank you so much for requesting!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Eyeless Jack confessing to a Male!Reader

Jack is not the best when it comes to feelings

He's always so deeply buried in his work that he's simply never had time for relationships

He has that mindset of "more brain less heart", so when he first had those feelings people often associate with having a crush, he both immediately knew what he was experiencing and also very confused

And so he pondered

And pondered

And pondered

And after multiple weeks of pacing, giving himself long hard looks in the mirror and over thinking every possible thing, he comes to a conclusion

He loves you.

At least, he thinks he loves you

There's still that small part of him that tries to rationalize his emotions, blaming it all on natural hormones and societies strange fascination with the idea of being in love

But in the end, he realizes that he's fallen into your trap and wants nothing more than to experience that over dramatized, over capitalized emotion known as love

And he wants to experience it with you, no less

When it comes to confessing, there are multiple ways he's planned it all out in his head

He could just march right into the living room, proclaim his love for you for all to see in a grand gesture that is sure to steal your heart

.....or scare you off and make you think him an obsessive creep

He could ask you out on a nice date, somewhere private where you two can be alone and focus on nothing but each other with a nice picnic, or perhaps even a nice restaurant

But there's always that stinging fear of rejection that lurks over him

He's only snapped out of his thoughts when you wave your hand in front of him, your scent catching him off guard

"Hellllloooo?? Anyone home in there?"

Your voice sounds like an angel singing, which he would've had more time to daydream about of he wasn't shaking the thought out of his head as quickly as it came

"Yeah, I'm ok. Just thinking." He responds

"About what?" You ask curiously. It always was a wild card with Jack, as thinking seemed to be his favorite pass time

"You know, this and that." He hums

You had been sitting in the kitchen for one of the big "family" meals the entire mansion comes together for at least once every few months

Every instinct in him was telling him to confess right here right now, but again with the grand gesture, it's likely he would scare you off

So he instead excuses himself and takes a long cold shower, once again....pondering....

After you finished dinner, you snuck into his room and made yourself comfortable as Jack showered

Don't worry dear reader, he was fully aware you were there and this was fully within the boundaries of your friendship

As you listened to the water run, you began to think

Jack had been acting off lately, shutting himself up in his room for longer periods of time and even when he was out, he always seemed to be thinking

This tends to happen periodically with Jack, but that doesn't mean you don't worry about him

You hear the water shut off and look towards the bathroom door as you hear the shuffling of cloth material and the clink of the shower curtain closing

Jack emerges in his sleep wear, his ear flicking when he picks up on your scent

"You're upset." He mumbles, walking around his room and reorganizing clutter here and there

"I'm not upset, just worried. You ok, man?"

You grab him by his wrists and sit him down on his bed before he can shuffle away again

There is a moment of awkward silence before you finally speak up again "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

He stares at you silently for another moment before taking a breath in

"I want you." He states in an almost longing tone "But I don't know what to do or what to say" he speaks in a whisper

You are taken aback, but still respond nonetheless

"Is that what you've been thinking about this whole time?" You ask in a hushed tone, reaching up to tuck some hair behind his pointy ear

He nods "Please know that I had planned to tell you in a more formal manner. Perhaps with flowers and a nice array of candies"

This makes you laugh loudly, which in turn, makes him flash you an embarrassed yet dorky smile

Your laugh dies down and you cup his cheeks softly "it's ok, I like this"

You press his forehead to yours with a small smile "though, I won't say no to flowers"

A small purr emerges from his throat as he wraps his long arms around you, holding you closely to him as he breathes in your scent

If he knew all he had to do was just flat out say it, he would've done it a long time ago, but he's glad he has you now <3

[quickdeaths]

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

☢ What fads/trends are you so over?

Gosh do I even know any trends, who is to say.

Colored text on dash. I know a lot of people are very taken with it, but differently colored dialogue between characters just reminds me of RPing on vBulletin forums in like 2007. I don't mind it on people's actual blogs, but something about it against the white space on the dashboard is just not aesthetically pleasing to me.

Group Promos/Those "RP Finder" blogs. Basically anything that clogs up the tumblr RP tags with people directing to discord groups or 1v1, for two reasons. One, I run a tight ship here and don't follow a bunch of people, so I use the tags to find new mutuals. Probably once or twice a month, minimum, I go trawling through various general and fandom rp tags to find partners, and those posts clutter up the search. Even worse, while you can block them so you don't see their posts, there's a problem with tumblr (functioning website that it is) where if a search returns too many blocked posts at the start, it'll just never load more, so I have to keep these blogs visible so I can get to the good stuff.

The other reason I dislike them is because they're just not a culture fit for what my idea of tumblr rp is. I don't like huge group RPs where there's an expectation on writing with people because you're in the same group, and I don't often like the RP culture of some other sites, or discord, where people often have existing plots they want you to write, or where OC/Canon "doubling" is expected. I don't like that being brought to tumblr, especially when it's taking up our tag functionality to funnel people off of the site anyway.

I don't know really what to call this one but I guess RP toxic positivity? I don't want to come down too hard on it, because I think everyone's hearts are in the right place, and I don't know if that's really the best term for it, but you know what I'm talking about if I describe it - those posts that are like "I don't care if you take a year to reply, real life is more important!" or "You don't owe anyone anything, your blog is your space!" or "RP is a hobby not a jobby, don't ever feel like you have to take is so seriously!" and things like that.

I think it's a good mindset to understand that writing on Tumblr is not the be-all, end-all of life, and to give yourself some grace about things, but I also think as a collaborative hobby, we do owe each other things. Investment, moderately quick replies when possible, putting in what we want to get out, etc. I think people should curate their space as they like, yes, but also be understanding of the fact that not everything works for everyone, and that's okay too, and people who want some amount of commitment or schedule aren't bad people, they just experience the hobby different.

❥ Has someone ever ruined an FC or character for you?

FCs, not really. Honestly, I don't use icons anymore most of the time, and I can never keep up with the rules around stuff, who "can" or "can't be" used, what's too popular, what's "stealing" someone else's FC. I do think it's funny when people make OCs that use like the most visible characters of the most visible series of the year or whatever, but honestly, I don't really mind either way.

Characters... not permanently, but maybe temporarily. If someone's portrayal really rubs me the wrong way - like, for example, a super comedic portrayal of a character that I connect with or relate to a lot and that I think has a lot of depth - I usually just don't engage with that portrayal long. What more sort of puts a character on ice for me, at least for some time, is when I've had a close interaction with someone, and for OOC reasons, there was a falling out.

In a couple of instances over my, like, 11? 12? years writing on this site, I've had a ship partner or someone who I was very close with, where we ended up falling out as friends for various reasons, and that does always put me in a complicated position. On the one hand, I love the characters they were writing for their existence in canon, but also a great deal of what those characters were to me was defined by the specific portrayals my friends were writing. It would feel weird to move on and pretend those portrayals hadn't meant something to me, even if the friendship was over, and I didn't feel good about finding a new person who wrote that character quickly. Even connecting with the character in the original media felt kind of tinted a certain way, so I put those characters on the shelf for a little while, until some feelings had faded and it felt good to go back to them, whether that was the original material or someone else's portrayal, instead of bittersweet and complicated.

☀ What's your rp pet peeve?

Already answered!

But I will give you a bonus one anyway that we're both very aware of hahaha. People who treat OCs/female muses/female OCs, and their writers, badly. There's a feeling that those characters need to prove that they're worthy of people caring about them, while whatever hot hunky anime guy is in the flavor of the month anime deserves attention just for existing (I am thinking of a Specific Anime Man but y'all will never guess who). Another frustrating wrinkle is that tons of people acknowledge this is a thing that exists, and will lament it as it affects their own characters, and then immediately ignore it when it comes to who they're interested in.

In my many travels, I've encountered people who will write female OCs and make long, sad posts about how no one gives female characters/OCs a chance, and then their own blog is entirely their character interacting with male canons, so in that sense, the little secondary pet peeve here is people who do not practice what they preach on this kinda thing. That will never be me I am an irl girlkisser and girlenjoyer, give me your girls, female muses to the front of the line my characters would like to be your characters' friends and/or rivals and/or deeply complicated emotional and romantic-coded friendship that ends in the most devastating friendship over breakup ever and then who knows

[infernal-feminae-archived]

So, as some of you are already aware, I run another multimuse blog for fandoms other than Hazbin. I thought it would be easier to branch out into other fandoms but I feel like it's getting to a point where it's becoming tedious for me to keep logging in and out of both blogs.

I'm also struggling to divide my time and attention between both blogs and I don't really feel motivated to hop onto my other blog most days. I'm already established on thos blog and most of my friends are here. However, I don't wanna give up on branching out already.

Basically, I've been toying with the idea of bringing all my muses from my other multi to THIS one. But I feel like things are becoming a bit cluttered here and so I was also wondering if I should just make a new blog and move ALL my muses over there for a fresh new start.

[pedgito]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

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summary | Joel hates change, but you introduced the idea that letting someone else take charge isn't always bad.

author's note | horrible summary but just know that man is down horrifically bad. i don't think i need to explain what inspired this. i recommend a mix of father figure by george michael and i'm on fire by bruce springsteen on a constant repeat while reading this, for the vibes <3 thank you @chaotic-mystery for beta'ing and constantly making me laugh

content warning | 18+ MDNI, sub!joel, no outbreak, power dynamics (he's your boss), age gap (shocker), lots of open communication, vague plot, oral (m & f receiving), unprotected piv, creampies, cum eating, restraints, joel eating the puss with no hands, use of a cockring, joel's a real good boy, open-ended

word count — 7k

“You ever thought about lettin’ someone else take control?”

Tommy’s staring over the dirtied tupperware in his hands, the heel of his boot squeaking against Joel’s cluttered desk, who’s staring down at the mess of paperwork before his eyes flick up briefly at his brother, glaring.

“And run this place into the ground?”

“Joel, look at this place,” Tommy gestures lazily toward the space.

It is a mess—paperwork misorted, information scribbled on a calendar long forgotten underneath the pile, sticky notes scattered throughout, and Joel’s brain running a million thoughts per second on top of the physical work he’s providing throughout the company.

He’d taken on the position thinking it would be a good thing, a breather, after years of working only physical labor—extra money, more security for his daughters as they entered college, always feeling the support of him even miles away. But, it had slowly begun to overtake his life, his weekends that used to be spent watching football games and drinking in his backyard, were forced into four walls.

He can’t even remember that last time he’s had the chance to have a night out.

Gone on a date.

Hell, even sex was nonexistent.

“Hiring someone means training and you and I both know we don’t have the time—”

“That’s why you hire someone with experience—and vet ‘em. You know what, I’ll ask Maria if she can help out with finding someone. Lord knows you’ll never make a decision.”

“I am your boss, remember?” Joel threatens lightly, tossing a dry, unusable pen on his desk, mirroring his brother as he raises a foot on his desk and leans back, arms crossed over his chest, “Maybe work would be less of a pain in the ass if I jus’ fired ‘ya.”

“Yeah, but then who’s gonna deal with all your cryin’?”

Joel tosses a balled up napkin at Tommy’s head, one that he dodges with ease as it flies over his head, barely missing the trashcan on the other side of the room as it slumps to the floor.

“Just try it out—ain’t nothing bad about change, brother.”

For Joel, it meant relinquishing the control he wasn’t ready to offer up.

–

You fidget nervously in the chair in the front office, heart hammering in your chest.

First impressions were always nerve-wracking, but with Joel, and the preface you were given by both Maria and Tommy, who had led you through the hiring process, made it seem like he was nearly unbearable at times.

The door to his office creaks open right on time, not a second after.

He’s dressed up, slacks and a tight button-up paired with loosely slicked back hair, peppered with grays that dissolved into his trimmed facial hair, a permanent scowl on his face as he greets you, head down and following you as you slipped by his large, stocky frame.

As the door clicks closed, he begins with audible uncertainty, “I’m not sure what all my brother and his wife told you, but—”

You interrupt firmly, attempting to assert your unique approach at dominance when men like him, slinging your bag into one of the two chairs positioned in front of his desk.

“So—I manage the day to day. I can handle calls, within reason, unless you like doing that yourself,” Truthfully, it wasn’t his favorite thing although it was the most important—selling the company, getting the customers, Joel could be a smooth talker when he wanted, “for paperwork, I’m scarily organized and I’ll take care of all,” You look around at the tornado of receipts and contracts scattered around, “this.”

“What about lunch?” Joel inquires jokingly.

“And breakfast,” You answer nonchalantly, “Listen, I’m here to help you.”

“I’m used to handling all of this alone, so forgive me if I’m—”

“Territorial,” You finish for him, eyebrows raising inquisitively as Joel cracks a faint smirk.

You cross one foot over the other and clasp your hands together, connecting with his gaze as he stands a few feet away, hands shoved into his pockets, and he opens his mouth like he wants to argue or protest against the word, but you smile knowingly.

“I’m used to it,” You assure him, “Mr. Miller—Joel, I’m not…sure what you prefer. The goal is balance, your brother mentioned something about you sleeping here sometimes.”

“Just Joel is fine,”Joel tells you, glancing sheepishly at the messy couch, a blanket and pillow balled up on one cushion.

“That’s not happening anymore,” You assure him, “and don’t think you’re overwhelming me. I need a list of everything you want me to cover—I’m your assistant, so if helping means grabbing you breakfast every morning, I’ll do it.”

It takes an hour of conversation and convincing before you finally manage to lead Joel toward his desk, inadvertently organizing some of the paperwork as he wrote down a list that grew and grew as you talked, giggling to yourself as he would occasionally scribble out a word and then rewrite it down.

You’ve dealt with plenty of men like him, an unwillingness to hand the leash over, gripped tightly around his hand—Joel just needed a shove and some reassurance.

And within a few weeks, after you’ve managed to introduce an entirely new filing system to keep things organized, color-coded his calendar, and started taking calls while he would make his rounds to check on the employees posted at different locations around the city, he realizes that he can breathe a little easier.

It’s also a mighty big plus that he doesn’t have to spend twenty minutes in the pick-up line for a black coffee and bagel or concern about lunch before deciding to skip it entirely.

You spend most of your time with him, learning subtle nuances and quirks that help you decipher his steely expression and non-existent personality. Tommy, who was outwardly joyful and shamelessly extroverted, was the complete opposite of Joel, who was reserved in all aspects of his life.

“Forgot how greasy these damn things are,” Joel gripes lightheartedly as he pulls the paper away from the double cheeseburger, sipping at his soda as you tap away quietly on his computer, watching him briefly from the opposite side of the desk as you took up residence in his chair for the moment, “what’re you doin’ again exactly?”

You silently pass him a napkin which he grabs wordlessly.

“I’m scheduling a week off for you and clearing your schedule so you won’t have to worry about anything,” You tell him, the line returning between his brow as he chews.

“I didn’t approve that,” He says around a mouthful, wiping at the corner of his mouth with the crumpled napkin, “besides I ain’t got the time—”

“The last time you took off was,” You pause for an extended amount of time, searching back through the calendar before you spot it, “two years ago for…”

“Graduation,” He answers quietly, “for Sarah and Ellie.”

His daughters, who he always spoke of fondly, pictures scattered around his office.

You were a few years older, wondering if the reason he was so reluctant to your help was your age, wondering if you truly had the experience to handle the workload.

“Exactly,” You answer sharply, “And your birthday falls within that week, so you’re not going to argue with me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You grin triumphantly, snatching a fry from his to-go tray.

–

By September, Joel has fully settled into having you around. It’s only been a few months and he’s already able to spend more weekends at home and occasionally get back to more physical labor when his body agrees with it, unfortunately the company was heading toward a rush, a quickly moving train with no end in sight.

It was the third late night in a week after Joel had returned from his much needed vacation and you’re working quietly at writing down a plethora of dollar amounts to work out on the white board beside his desk before he huffs, leaning back in his chair as he curls his fingers behind his head and grimaces at the stress, forehead shining with a sheen of sweat.

Oh, yeah—and the AC was broken.

They were scheduled to fix it at the end of the week, but for now, it was thin dresses and loose fitting clothing and Joel, who was sticking to jeans and a casual, worn-out shirt. Your hair was tossed over one shoulder as your head tilted, arm extended up as the marker squeaked against the board, unknowing of his eyes that dragged along the expanse of your body.

He’s never shown any interest, not really. Almost always respectful, sometimes too much.

He’s asked about your life, your interests, whether you were thinking of marriage or not—it all felt wholly casual. You knew he had never been married, that he’s raised both of his daughters alone aside from the help of his brother Tommy, and that he rarely went on dates.

You tried helping him once, even scheduling his work day around the date to accommodate and allow him the opportunity, but you were ultimately greeted with his sour expression an hour after lunch.

“She kept tellin’ me how much I reminded her of her ex-husband,” Joel had told you, your hand covering your mouth in both shock and amusement, watching as he slumped into the chair and loosened the cuffs on his shirt. You weren’t sure how anyone could pass up on that.

Now, you can sense his discomfort. Like an aura. 

Lately, you’ve felt like an extension of him. He sensed it too, with you seeming to say things he’s thinking, in your own words, always knowing exactly what he needs, whether it was just a moment to himself or a day of you handling other work while he hid away in his office to handle the overload of calls.

You’re not sure why you stop writing, but you do. The pull guides you to him, moving silently, watching as he leaned forward on his desk, head slung down as he rolled his neck and quietly, your hands curl around his shoulders to squeeze, digging deep into the knotted muscles.

He’s quiet for a moment, both savoring the feeling and processing the situation.

First, he speaks your name, like a warning.

“You’re stressed, let me help,” You comfort him, watching as his shoulders relax with the effort of your hands, now completely slouched against his desk as your hand drags around his shoulder blade and back up, thumbs pressing into the base of his neck as he groans quietly, “does it hurt?”

Joel shakes his head, allowing the press to continue before he slowly pushes up, reaching blindly for your hand before you swat it away, “It’s just a massage, Joel. Relax.”

That wasn’t the issue.

He won’t admit it either, his face blushing as he leans his head back, feeling the delicious pinch of skin as you work out the difficult and stress-filled knots, eyes closed as his lips part.

You smirk slightly, watching the mess of his soft brown curls caress your breasts and he situates himself in his chair, slowly curling your fingers over his shoulder as his bottom lip quakes, shivers.

He whimpers.

He hears it, you hear it.

Joel’s eyes peel open in apology but you shush him, the cold touch of your fingers dragging along his neck, in perfect position to take hold and you’re almost positive Joel wouldn’t try to stop you.

“Don’t—don’t say it,” You nod to reassure him, dragging your other hand over his clammy skin, pushing his hair away from his face as you tug at the strands gently.

Joel nods obediently, swallowing as his hand glides over his crotch, rubbing through the denim of his jeans, cock swelling slowly underneath as he presses the heel of his palm against it for a sliver of relief. 

You both ignore how quickly the lines have blurred, glaringly aware of the unlocked door to Joel’s office as the massage transforms into something much more nefarious, your fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt and against his skin, through the coarse hair on his chest, not a single reaction as his right hand curls around the back of his chair to twist around your thigh, pulling your knee up on the armrest.

With the slight adjustment, you notice his hand squeezing tight at his jeans, desperately trying to avoid his obvious want, attempting to stifle the desire and not acknowledge it.

“It’s been a while, huh?” You ask softly, too scared to startle him.

Joel nods, blinking slowly as his eyes fall on your lips and the way they curl slightly over your teeth and into a thin line at his response.

“Since someone touched you like this?” You inquire further, feeling his fingers squeeze at your thigh as your hands work like magic over his skin, trailing down his chest and twisting into his hair, his eyes fluttering closed at the interaction.

“At all,” He admits, “s’been so long—m’sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t apologize,” You tell him, sensing the regret as it invades his thoughts, quickly quelling the feeling, “I think—I think I can help you.”

Joel sighs, breathing out through his nose, “I’m your boss.”

Obviously, you think.

“On paper, maybe—but you’ve had no problem listening to me,” You tease, the slightest hint of shame on his face at your words—he’s guilty, he knows it—”in fact, I don’t think you realized how much you liked it, until now.”

The voice trailing along the hallway breaks you both out of your trance, slowly pulling your touch away as your leg falls, Joel’s fingers yearning for a final touch as they dig into your skin.

“Easy,” He cautions, looking down at his desk as he pulls at his jeans, adjusting the obvious discomfort of his stiff cock as it waned, “not—not here.”

“Gimme your phone,” You urge, holding your hand out expectantly.

He hands it over with an air of skepticism, your finger tapping against the screen quietly before you pass it back to him, the device dwarfed in his large palm.

“If you’re not busy tonight,” You say quietly, increasingly careful as you hear Tommy’s voice carry throughout the office, “I put my address into your phone, it's in your favorites. Should be easy to find.”

An invitation. 

Like dangling a treat in front of him, waiting to see if he’d take the bait.

-

He’s starving, fortunately.

He sits through dinner with Tommy and Maria, a regular occasion as Joel is often horrible at taking care of himself, surviving on very little sleep and a couple meals a day, often supplied by you.

He should take better care of himself. He knows that.

Regardless, he’s jittery as he pulls up to the apartment complex his phone led him to, parking in the garage attached as he sends you a single text around ten o’clock that night.

Your phone dings on your kitchen counter, finishing up pouring out your glass of wine as you pull it toward you with a single drag of your finger.

Joel: Here. Apartment number?

You chuckle at his straightforward nature that translates loudly through the tiny letters on your screen, quietly tapping out a response before you push your phone aside.

As you’re rounding the counter to head toward your couch, the deep knocks follow, wondering if he’d already been perusing and got lucky he was near.

You turn the knob and pull the door open as you press the glass to your lips, taking in the sight of a man who looks and feels entirely out of place. 

His eyes follow your state of undress, assuming you were ready to climb into bed with the silk shorts that clung to your hips and the scantily cropped top to match, barely covering your breasts.

He’s changed since work, only trading the denim for a much softer material to cover his legs, a fresh shirt, his hair mused like he’s been running his fingers through it with worry and unsurety. 

“How was your night?” You ask casually, moving to allow him the room to step inside your apartment, closing the door behind you as you head toward the fridge, silently grabbing for a beer—his favorite just happened to be your own, so it worked out perfectly.

“Fine,” He grumbles, watching as you hand him a now opened beer and push by him, but not before your fingers drift against his own, pulling him alongside until you reach the couch.

His fingers curl around yours without a second thought.

“You started talkin’ about football and Tommy went on one of his rants again, didn’t he?”

He’s used to it by now, how well you can assess him.

“S’almost like you were there,” He chuckles, tipping the beer to his lips and taking a long chug, “did I bother you? I know it’s late.”

You shake your head, allowing him to finish up a decent amount of his beer and your glass of wine before you’re plucking the glass from his hands and tucking it away on the table.

“Have you done this before?“ Joel asks softly, a deep gravelly timbre to his voice as your ass angles up, leaning off the couch to dispose of the drinks before you’re climbing over his lap, quietly raising your hands to cradling his face.

He doesn’t look at you for too long, not allowing the weight of the situation to settle quite yet, selfishly roving the expanse of exposed skin, feeling your hands grip his own to guide them to your hips.

“Does it matter?” You ask, dragging your thumb along his beard, rubbing at the bare patch of skin on his cheek, “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

“No.”

A small sliver of tongue peeks through your teeth as you bite down, grinning openly at him and his sheepish gaze.

“You’re my first—is that what you wanna hear?”

You can feel the bluntness of his nails dig into your skin at your words—oh, he that is exactly what he wanted.

“I’m just—M’not sure what I’m supposed to do here, sweetheart.”Joel responds instead, licking his lips before they pull together in a tight line.

“Would whiskey help? I got whiskey,” You respond cheekily, “I’ll get you some. Stay put.”

Joel chuckles nervously, “Yes, ma’am.”

You climb off his lap and disappear into your kitchen, reaching into the cabinet for a glass before crouching down to retrieve the liquor hidden away, hearing the soft and subtle rustling as Joel adjusts more comfortably on the couch, his shoes now removed and tossed haphazardly toward the coffee table. 

“If you—if you haven’t done this before,” Joel pauses as you return, making immediately room for you on his lap as you press the glass into his waiting hand, “why’d you offer?”

“Men pay me to boss them around, plenty of men like you,” It was a loose description, but it was the one strong suit you’ve prided yourself in, corralling stubborn men, “I like it and I’m good at it.”

“Clearly.” Joel comments under his breath, a small scoff of astonishment slipping past your lips as you force the glass to his own lips in a silent command.

“I don’t make it a habit to have sex with them, f’that is what you’re really worried about. They’re all married, miserable, but married. And I don’t like the mess of getting involved. Any time I’ve moved on it’s been because of that.”

Joel continues to drink by your aid, downing the rest of it as you continue to speak.

“You’re not married, you’re not complicated. You’ve been respectful. This isn’t you approaching me—I made that move, I just gave you an offer. One, which, you can still bail on and I won’t be upset. I won’t quit, either.”

As the liquor takes hold, Joel seems to relax, the tension in his body dissipating as you slowly trace the lines of his face and body with your fingers, explorative within reason.

“I guess we should set some ground rules,” Joel grunts at the mention, slightly more handsy as his fingers meet at your back, dipping a centimeter below the waistband, “If we do this—I’m in charge, completely. That’s the only way this works, or helps you. And it should be a given, but I’m clean and on birth control. But, it that reassures you—I’d rather you hear it.”

“Jesus Christ,” Joel groans, feeling the immediate loss of his touch as he rubs his hands over his face before stretching them out over the back of the couch.

“I’m just…covering the bases, I’d rather not have the question come across when you’re an inch away from putting your dick inside me, you know?”

“Coverin’ your bases?” Joel echoes, slightly amused.

You grin, climbing off of him slowly as you reach for your phone, fumbling through your playlist before you find a slow, sensual tune to fill the quiet air.

Hey, little girl, is your daddy home?

Did he go away and leave you all alone?

I got a bad desire

Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

“Do you dance?” You ask curiously, wandering toward your kitchen for the open wine bottle, half-empty and begging to be consumed.

“Not much—not…not anymore,” Joel doesn’t know he words it so cryptically; he danced, just not well. 

“Tommy told me how, at least, before the girls, how often you two would go line dancing,” Joel’s fingers curl around your hand as it extends, bring the wine bottle to your lips with the other, “now that I have to witness.”

“You and Tommy sure do talk a lot,” Joel notes, looking down at you as your fingers drag along the hair at his nape, “anything else he told you?”

You shake your head nonchalantly, bottom lip jutting out slightly as you sway your hips in time with the lyrics, Joel’s hand covering the full expanse of your own as it wraps around, constantly mesmerized by the sheer size.

The goal was to shake his nerves out, but he seemed to stiffen with your progressive movement as you twirled yourself around, one long gulp of wine before you set the bottle aside and relent, dragging your finger up the fabric of his shirt before you squeeze at the collar, pulling him closer.

“Either you dance with me,” You begin, “or I’m dancing for you—your choice.”

His non-answer is enough, forcing him back onto the couch before you’re shoving the table out of the way and turning up the volume to the rhythmic tune.

You’d convince him eventually, dying to see those skills come back to life, even if it was just a glimpse.

“Put your hands under your legs,” You instruct him casually, eyes tracking up as you watch his chest puff out with the motion, fitting his hands under his thighs without argument.

Huh, that was easy. 

Time was a teller, though, and you were curious how long it would last. 

—

He’s seen glimpses of it before, the soft hum under your breath as you sing the catchy tunes playing on the radio in his office, a subtle sway as you flip through a stack of paperwork or at his desk, the tiniest movement.

But here, now, he’s mesmerized.

He gets it, this is what you wanted.

Joel’s fists have balled up under his thighs, watching you turn away as you dance, the swaying movements pulling at the already short fabric as his eyes follow the way you bend, giving him a full glimpse of your ass.

You giggle softly at his lack of reaction, which wasn’t entirely true, watching his knees widen at the action, subconsciously making room for you despite your distance. 

Yearning. He was yearning for you.

You drop to your knees, crawling toward him slow under the low, ambient light of your living room—a faint glow of pinks and purples, transforming into greens and blues, filtering slowly through colors as your hands grip his knees, sliding up the inside of his thighs tantalizingly slow. 

“So…” Your finger trails around the drawstring of his pants, “at any point that this gets too much or you’re not feeling it, just say stop.”

“That ain’t somethin’ you gotta worry ‘bout.”

“Communication is a good thing, Joel,” You explain, “it’s important—to make sure we’re both benefiting from this. I’m not enjoying this unless you are, alright?”

Joel nods, a raised eyebrow offered in return.

“Yes,” His voice cracks slightly, clearing his throat, “uh—yes, ma’am.” 

“A simple yes would have worked, but I appreciate the manners,” You tease him, knowing he’s always been stuck in his ways, old fashioned and polite. It comes naturally.

Your fingers fold around his waistband and tug, his hips rising at the motion and you hear the breath he’s holding release as his cock springs free, leaking at the tip and begging to be attended to. You grinned, tongue peaking out to lick along the head and around, salty precum hitting your taste buds as you look up at Joel, his eyes falling shut as his hand wraps around your forearm in desperation.

You pull back instantly, gently moving his hand away.

He seems to realize his misstep, silently tuck his hand away under his thigh again as you nod, pulling his pants the rest of the way down and off before you’re licking him from base to tip, fingertips wrapping around his shaft and squeezing alongside the delicate suction of your mouth.

He groans, so deep and guttural you think he might come now, peeking your eyes open to see his head resting back, eyes closed. The sight was too much, having to force some reprieve on himself as you worked your mouth down his cock, head bobbing at a slow, tortuous pace until your throat can relax and take him fully, nearing around eight inches and thick, feeling the stretch of your cheeks alongside the ache in your jaw.

You pull away with watery eyes, a long string of spit connecting you to him, speaking, “If you feel like you’re about to come, say it, don’t lie to me.”

With that, your thumb rubs over the slit of his head, feeling his cock pulse in your hand, squeezing at the tip while his face contorts, lips parting as he breathes out shakily. 

“Oh, fuck—yes—yes fuckin, ma’am.”

He’d rip the stitching in your couch if he gripped it harder, losing his hold on reality as he watches your head move through bleary eyes, the buzz of alcohol tingling his brain as you gag against his cock, held in the back of your throat before he’s stammering out desperately, the familiar tug in his gut that proves just how long it’s been for him, ready to come after only a few minutes of your mouth on him.

He’s embarrassed, the words falling from his lips in a rush, “Stopstop—fuck, stop.”

You pull away quickly, the urgency in his voice startling you as your face contorts in concern.

“Fuck—not like, stop. Jus’ I was about to come. Sorry—sweetheart, I panicked.”

It calms your worry, nodding in response to his words.

“I’ve…actually I have an idea, if you’re okay with it that is.”

He’s suspicious of the glint in your eyes, rising on sore knees as he sat there naked from the waist down, your eyes dragging over his firm, muscled legs before they took in the sight of his cock again, standing proud as it rest against his stomach, the shirt slightly bunched at his chest.

You make the short trek to your room to retrieve the item you were looking for, coming back to Joel massaging his sore wrists, a subtle worry in his eyes that he’s done something wrong.

He eyes the bag in your hand suspiciously, brow raised. 

There were a few items, but the one most notable he reaches for initially, dangling it between two fingers as he asks, “You have that just layin’ around?”

It was a cockring, flexible material that he stretched his fingers before you politely snatched it away.

“What? I picked out a few things. Besides, I couldn’t get you anything for your birthday so consider this a late gift,” He sees right through the sickeningly sweet smile, pushing the bag into his hands as you straddle one thigh, the silk material of your shorts dragging along his bare skin.

“I dunno,” Joel’s hesitant, but not entirely close-off to the idea, “s’that even safe?”

“It is,” You assure him—Joel doesn’t really question it either, “You trust me, don’t you?”

He tries to stifle the small chuckle at your act, batting your lashes as you reach for his hand, settling it against the center of your chest underneath your shirt, the soft press of your breasts squeezing his hand and Joel has to resist the urge to explore further, rifling through the bag one-handed, pulling out a thick piece of cloth, a rich, plum stained fabric. 

“You’re in good hands,” You smile, leaning forward to brush your lips along the shell of his ear, “I promise.”

–

He does touch you now, though careful of his hands wandering too far, spreading you out on your bed sheet with hesitance, sensing that this wasn’t just a moment of uncertainty, but rather unfamiliarity.

“It’s been so long,” He admits, not lost on you, “I’ll try—jus’ might need some remindin’.”

Be vocal, he pleads without asking. Let me hear you.

Done and done.

His hands grip at the back of your thighs, pulling you near the edge of the bed before they’re pushing up, forcing your legs apart as he settles on his knees, stripped of his top and nude, a stark contrast to your clothed state as he pressed his face into the fabric of your shorts, his nose prodding at the seam of your pussy, teeth biting lightly into the fabric.

His eyes trail up, the bottom half of his face obscured as he pressed his mouth into the heat of your cunt through the silk, awaiting your command.

“Grab,” You sigh, his kisses trailing along your thigh and down, lips kisses at the sensitive skin of your ankle, “the bag—the bag,” You point vaguely, forcing him away gently with your opposite foot. 

You’d dropped it on the floor beside Joel in the mess of limbs, the bag hidden underneath his disposed shirt and as he thrusts the small paper bag into your hands you fish for the binding balled up at the bottom of the bag, tossing the rest of the bag aside as you sink to match Joel’s position, gently grabbing his wrists as you guide them behind his back.

“Just to make sure you keep your hands to yourself,” You inform him, face heating under his heavy gaze, looking up at him innocently as you knot the fabric blindly behind his back, tugging when you’re satisfied enough and rising to meet his face, nose brushing against his own at the close proximity, “Do you want a taste, Joel?”

“I’ll take whatever you give me, sweetheart.”

In this light, under the soft glow of streetlights that spilled over into your room, it was like you were seeing a different man, not at all the confident and defiant man you challenge on a day to day, but a man dedicated to you, an eagerness in his expression that you’ve never seen.

“Oh, honey—you’re gonna work for it.”

You crawl back on your hands, rising to perch on the edge of the bed with your legs spread, one foot perched against the mattress as Joel shuffled forward slowly, “Can’t taste you through those shorts, might help if you—”

“Get creative,” You urge, haphazardly pulling your top over your head and throwing it aside for incentive, breasts bouncing softly with the movement and spotting the way Joel swallows, hard.

It made him feel young, this desire that didn’t show itself often. He’s resigned himself to months, years of handling himself; jerking himself off with his hand to satisfy that urge, but never more. He rarely had time then, lucky if he could manage a full eight hours of sleep. 

He leans forward, his teeth digging into the fabric at your hip as he pulls, wrestling with the material as he drags it down your thigh—innovative, you think. You giggle softly at his steadfast gaze, a stubbornness in his scowl as he rips the fabric off. 

Joel doesn’t waste time, licking a long stripe through your already damp underwear, accumulated slick ruining the fabric as he greedily laps you up through the garment, but he hisses when your hand grips into his hair, pulling him back as his scowl grows deeper.

“All of it.” You demand.

You watch as his teeth gripped at the front of your underwear before he’s dragging them down, tossing them aside even more impatiently, like a dog with a chew toy, before he’s pressing his face into your cunt, leaning most of his weight into you as his strong, angular nose presses against your clit, his tongue dipping inside of you instantly, like he was trying to consume you.

A mix of a broken laugh and gasp leaves your mouth as he groans, a slight shake to his head as he attempted to force himself deeper, the movement shifting his nose of your clit in a way that has your entire body curling in on itself, his eyes closed, lost in the taste of you and the warm cradle of your thighs around his head, foot smoothing over his back as you pull him in.

He suckles at your clit as he shifts up, the wet expanse of his tongue sliding over the sensitive bud, responding with a soft noise as your fingers dig into his hair and tug, ““Fuck, you love it like this, don’t you?”

Joel responds with a noise, ignoring your question as his tongue swirls over your clit, repeating the motion repeatedly as your breath hitches, gasping loudly.

“I asked—asked you a question,” You interrupt, pulling him back defiantly, “I’d like an answer.”

“M’sorry, I do—I do,” Joel apologizes, mouth shining with your slick, his beard wet and his cheeks flushed, “jus’ taste so good, sweetheart. Wanna make you feel good—am I doin’ alright?”

“So good,” You tell him softly, your hand cradling his chin as you slide your thumb over his wet lip and through the dampness at his chin before you’re pushing your fingertip into his mouth, letting the pad of your thumb press against his tongue, closing his lips around you finger to suck, “You’re always so messy, you know that?”

Joel chuckles, pulling his mouth away as you slowly guide him back toward your cunt, pulsing around his tongue as it dips inside of you once more, like a tease before he returns the attention toward your clit, groaning as your thighs squeeze tightly around his head, feeling the creeping sensation of your orgasm as it coiled in your gut.

“A damn good meal if ‘ya ask me,” Joel comments, too entranced to chastise his comment as your orgasm spills over, the rush of fluids hitting his tongue as you cry out, his unrelenting tongue making your vision go white.

“That’s good, baby, keep doing that. Just like that,” You encourage weakly, legs shaking with overstimulation as he glares up at you through his half-lidded gaze, his nose smushed against your cunt.

Your fingers sift gently through his hair as you come down, feeling the weight of his head against your thigh as he speaks, “You’re shakin’ like a leaf, sweetheart—y’alright?”

“I am,” He can hear the elation in your voice as you rise slowly, “does it hurt?”

Joel pulls at the binding, loose enough that there's no straining or pinching, he shrugs noncommittally and answers, “If I say yes will you take ‘em off?”

You tilt your head at his subtle mischievous tone, “As long as you’re being truthful.”

“I wanna touch you, if ‘m bein’ honest,” Joel admits.

He’s such a smoothtalker, even now. 

“Fine—but, I’m not finished,” You warn him, “so don’t get any ideas.”

“Oh, yes ma’am.” He agrees wholeheartedly, feigning seriousness. 

It shouldn’t be this easy with him, but it was. 

–

“I’m tryin’ to help you out,” You tease him, fitting the ring around his cock, settled underneath his balls as he stifles the groan of your touch against his overly sensitive skin, having been so close to the edge and losing focus that he’s fallen soft, resting back on his palms as you rub your hand over his chest and down, fingers rolling along the underside of his sack before your fingertip trails along the seam and up, following the thick vein that led to the head of his cock, “Is it good when I touch you here?”

“S’good,” He answers shakily, watching your hand press flat against your tongue before you’re gripping his cock tight, jerking him firmly, his hand flying to your hip, trailing up blindly as you press your chin against the top of his head, feeling his hand tangle into your hair, cradling your face with a desperation, “I’m fuckin’ sufferin’ here, sweetheart.”

“Not yet,” You counter, leaving his now hardened cock to bounce freely against his stomach as you reach for two items sprawled on the bed, gripped in your fists as you straddle him, his cock sliding through your wet folds and nearly sending him over the edge, “which one?”

Choices, he thinks. He hated making a decision.

Sight or touch, he debates the two items.

“If you don’t pick I’m choosing both,” You warn him playfully.

“Not bein’ able to see you feels like a punishment,” Joel admits.

You hum thoughtfully, “You’re right—and what a good boy you’ve been, huh?”

“Real good, sweetheart,” He agrees desperately, feeling his cock pulse against your cunt, fighting the restraint it was taking him not to sink into you now and plow you into the bed underneath him, but that wasn’t the point of all of this.

So, the decision is made.

Joel settles against the headboard as you restrain his arms behind his back in a similar manner, his eyes following your movements carefully as you leave soft, light kisses along his skin before you straddle his hips, hovering over him for a brief moment before you’re wrapping your hand around his cock and sinking down onto him slowly, adjusting to the stretch as his eyes flutter shut, face pinched up.

‘It’s not too tight, is it?” You ask, moving your hips at a tortuous pace as your fingers curl around the back of his neck, his head shaking at your question, focusing so innately hard he can’t answer, as much as he tries.

“S’probably the only thing keepin’ me together,” Joel forces out, “all I could think about at dinner earlier was you—this, s’fucked up, ain’t it?”

Your eagerness wins over, bouncing on his cock at a quicker pace that has him panting into your skin, a pathetic whine ripping from his chest, “And I spent—spent all evening thinking about how you’d look when you came—and how stubborn you’d be—”

Joel chuckles pathetically, moaning weakly against your chest as you grip the headboard above him, the sharp slap of skin against skin as you ride his cock.

“Turns out you’re pretty receptive,” You continue, “‘s’good—I like it.”

Joel murmurs an acknowledgment as his neck strains back, slamming against the headboard as he forces his eyes open, panting heavily as he watches your body stretch above him, one hand sliding down to spread out against your thigh as you head falls back to mirror his own, moaning loudly as his cock pulses with need, your walls fluttering around him.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” Joel speaks drunkenly, mesmerized, “M’never lettin’ you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” You assure him, watching him nod as his eyes squeeze shut, that familiar ache in his gut growing as his cock throbs with the need for release.

You lean forward, working your fingers through the knot of the restraints and speak softly against his ear, “Y’gonna listen? Yeah, like a real good boy?”

Joel nods fervently, sighing with the release of his hands as they immediately latch onto you, still and unmoving but like a relief for the both of you as his hands press hot against your skin.

“What should your reward be, huh?” You coo, “Should I let you come?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You lean back slightly, riding him with fervor as you nod your head, cradling his lulling head between your hands, “Tell me how good you’ve been,” You encourage gently, his skin damp with sweat as you slide a hand down his chest, dangerously close to the point where you’re joined together, “let me hear it.”

“So good, sweetheart. Bein’ such a good boy for ‘ya,” Joel complies, his breath hitching as he feels the tight ring around his cock loosen, thrown to the side, slipping out and back in without skipping a beat, like you’d never left.

“Right there,” He warns, “fuck—baby, I dunno if I can—”

“It’s okay,” You whisper softly, hearing the pain in his voice and the way his arms wrap around you like a vice, “I’m gonna make you clean it up, anyways.”

Joel groans at that, nearly lifting off the bed as his hand steadies behind, pumping his hips into you jerkily as he comes inside of you and coats your walls, gasping sharply at the feeling of his blunt nails digging into your skin, riding him gently through the aftershocks before he falls lifeless against the bed, panting heavily.

You sigh with elation, though exhausted, slowly moving back as you lean on your elbows and gently poke at his thigh, his hand covering his softening cock as he grunts, grumbling some unintelligible. 

“You’re not finished,” Joel chuckles lowly, his hand wrapping around your ankle as he pulls himself up, eyes immediately locking on your swollen cunt, cum spilling out as your walls squeeze, your own fingers spreading through the mess before you’re dragging it toward your mouth, licking your fingers clean before reaching for his hair, mused from sex as you yank him closer and demand, “clean up your mess.”

“Gonna need you to schedule another week off for me,” Joel admits, dipping his tongue inside of you without hesitation, his hands squeezing around your thighs to pull you in, “and you.”

“Why’s that?”

Joel grins as you glance down, speaking confidently against your cunt, “Got a few messes I wanna make, that alright?”

You pause, a moment of hesitation, “I’ll consider it.”

Joel growls into you, nipping gently at your clit as you squeal loudly.

You relent quickly, swatting his head playfully.

After all, he was still your boss.

[nikonyash]

STALEMATE || YUUTA OKKOTSU

WC: 750

Hurt/comfort

This has became a Yuuta-centric blog, alright. I'm just so soft for this guy.

The deafening silence continues.

His eyes following your movements while his brain sorting out words to say. Putting the last plate you washed on the kitchen's cabinet, the corner of your eyes catching him taking a slug of iced tea.

You mentally count to 10.

But the stillness stays.

Like he's invisible, you walk pass by with a sigh. Moving to the bathroom, giving yourself a small piece of refreshment. Flash of irritation keeps his words stuck in his throat.

You both haven't been talking since noon. You're too tired to yell, he almost came close spitting venomous words. All efforts to trigger each other to talk —though in anger— ended up increasing the tension rapidly. You intentionally called your ex crush, him leaving to dine out while you're cooking his share for dinner.

But, as much as he thinks you're annoying, he misses having you leaning on his shoulder. So do you, whose back is lonely without his chest pressing against it.

He knows he crossed a line. It's uncharacteristically of him to lose his composure, and moreover, to you. The one that he holds dearly, to whom he surrenders his heart to.

He sits on the bed, scrolling down the bottomless posts on his phone. His focused expression is a mere cover for his cluttered mind, trying to find the right time to break the silence.

His pulse racing as the scent of your shampoo wafts when you enter the room. He's ready to open his mouth, yet you ignore all the cues and grab your pillow. He winces.

"What are you doing?"

"I want to sleep on the couch..." Because you know you still need some time.

Released yet another heavy breath, you lay on the couch with your eyes closed. Hoping tomorrow you will be able to kiss his temple to wake him up. Hoping he will pull you yo him while nagging for another 5 minutes to sleep. Hoping you both will, for one more time, repeating all the sweet, slow morning routines you both usually do.

"Scoot over."

Your eyes snapped open. Yuuta placing himself on the couch, covering himself with a blanket and turning his back on you.

"You said you want to sleep on the couch."

You scoff on his statement. He ignores.

You are not ready to face him.

"Why can't we talk about it?" He starts.

"Because there will be no end to it."

You can sense him rolling his eyes upon your reply.

"You're troublesome."

You're about to argue but he's faster, "Freaking stubborn."

"Yuuta, don't start again."

"Nah, I'm tired. Just, you shouldn't sleep on it."

An idea you consistently hate. He wants everything to be solved immediately, you are the type who needs time with yourself to think it over. Staring at the ceiling, you hope it will fall on you so he will stop talking.

"...You're always quick to mention about breaking up," He continues, "Do I mean nothing to you?"

Splash of rage run through your veins, forcing your throat to close up, yet your eyes are watery.

"So I'd rather comparing moments to before we met?" You try as sharp as you could, keeping down your voice from quavering. Frustrated, you place an arm upon your eyes.

"I-I went too far, I know." Quickly turn to you, regret overflowing through his tone and eyes. Deeply, cursing himself to let his emotion got the best of him.

"I was stupid. I'm sorry," He cautiously caress your hand. You stay still, and he takes this as a sign to embrace you. "Baby?"

He moves your arm from upon your eyes, cup your face to turn to him, only to get his heart squeezed from seeing your glossy eyes.

Gently pulling you in a hug, he place his head on yours, "I hurt you, didn't I?"

It's cheating, really, how his sincerity always able to win you over. Or maybe, you're just soft for him, the missing piece you've vowed to love tenderly.

"I... Miss you," the words weakly whispered to his chest. The weight of your arm plastering on his waist feels relieving.

Softly smiling, he placing kisses randomly from the top of your head to your face. Flustered when he see your subtle smile.

"So troublesome," He fakes a pout before claiming your lips, feeling the warmth blossomed in his chest.

Once again, you melt under his touch. Promise to stay with him as long as he wants. While he knows, you will forever own his love.

[ddejavvu]

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I’m mei/daisy, I’m 20, and I run this blog! You may use any/all pronouns on me, and I'm always here if you need to chat :) I write sfw and nsfw, and i ask minors not to interact with anything nsfw. doing so will result in a block.

characters i write for

masterlist

faq

latest fics: Spring Fling - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Reader / Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader / Love to Lie - Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Reader (Series)

Blog rules:

Please check the tag #faq to see if your question has been answered before asking it!

Sometimes my masterlists aren't updated frequently. I suggest after perusing those to scroll through character tags if you want to see my entire library of work. I am working on updating it.

I do not condone the reposting of my work onto other websites. My writing is my writing, if you want to post a story, write your own.

I don't do taglists. They are a lot of work on my part, and they get out of hand quickly. Please do not ask to be tagged.

To request, I need a plotline and and a character. ‘Fluff’ is not a plotline, ‘part 2’ is not a plotline, ‘sub!reader’ is not a plotline, etc. You’ll have to give me a specific event or series of events to write about if you want me to write about them. If your request is missing one of those components, it will not be written.

Please don't ask if I've stopped writing for a character just because I haven't for a few days. This puts pressure on me and comes off like a guilt trip. Unless I've officially stated that I don't write for them anymore, I still write for them.

Please do not send your request twice. There's a 99% chance that I got it the first time, and sending it twice might actually dissuade me from writing it at all. I have a lot of asks in my inbox, and when people start sending in requests twice or even three times, it clutters things up and makes it very hard for me to work with what I've got.

Please don’t ask to be mutuals! I’m not against the idea of interacting with any of you, on the contrary, I’m very happy to talk to each and every one of you, regardless of whether we follow each other or not. However, I don’t like being asked to do a follow-for-follow situation. It doesn’t usually end up benefitting either party. If you’d like to be my mutual, please don’t ask, just try interacting with me! I’m happy to engage with people who engage with me. I love making mutuals, I just want it to happen naturally, or it doesn’t feel genuine. Thank you!

Please do not send me a request that you’ve copied and pasted into other authors’ inboxes. I suggest not doing this to anyone, but I have a particularly low tolerance for it. It can create some sticky ‘plagiarism/copying’ situations, and it makes me feel like a machine, not an individual person. Please respect me and other authors by valuing us and our work, not just spamming requests for free content. If I find out that a request I’ve been sent has also been sent to other authors word for word, I will delete it immediately, and if I find out after the fact that I’ve written a blurb that someone else wrote with the exact same prompt before me, I will most likely take mine down.

Please do not request anywhere but my inbox. That is where I keep them all so that they’re organized and don’t get forgotten about, so if you message them to me or use one of my other posts as your request form, your comment will most likely be ignored. I can’t keep up with all of them unless you put them in the right place, I’m sorry.

Requesting Rules:

NO:

cheating (on reader)

pedophilia

scat

puke

bestiality

rape

age play

rpf (Real Person Fiction; i don't write for real people! just their characters)

canon compliant war-centric fics about the marauders. I don’t have any interest in writing about the war, or any adjacent events, I’m sorry. I’m perfectly fine writing post-war fics or pre-war fics but I’m just trying to pretend it never happened and I’d appreciate it if you’d send me stuff for them that lets me do that </3

singing or dancing (done by reader) to amaze and impress everyone around them. if that's what you like, go ahead, i'm happy you're happy. but the scenario gives me massive second hand embarrassment, and I can't bring myself to write about it, sorry

songfics: i need to appreciate and understand the song on an analytical level to be able to write an entire fanfiction surrounding it, and that's something I can only manage with songs that i personally love and listen to. if you ask me to write you a songfic and i haven't even heard the song before, i won't be able to do your request justice.

reader teaching a character to do a certain hobby/sport, or a character teaching the reader that. let me explain: i don't know how to pitch a softball, so if you're going to ask me to write about teaching remus to pitch a softball, i don't know how to do that. it all comes down to me and my hobbies and my knowledge, of course, but common plotlines like being taught how to roll a blunt/smoke one, being taught how to play a sport, teaching a character to do a makeup routine, etc, are not skills that i have in my wheelhouse, and therefore plotlines that i wouldn't try to write about.

[cloverfics]

dance with me ; tōru oikawa

warnings this is probably the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written, established relationship, mentions of tanaka x kiyoko, as well as bokuto x akaashi, mentions of weddings, and oikawa being annoying with nicknames

genre fluff

word count 1.3k

inspiration honestly, dance with me by beabadoobee ( such a pretty song )

synopsis oikawa hates when you overwork yourself, so he suggests dancing to get you away from your desk

author’s note first and foremost, happy new year everyone! i hope you’re all doing well and i wish you well ! sorry i didn’t post anything directly on, i’ve just been enjoying my time but i’m back. and i must say, i really did enjoy writing this one so i hope you guys like it too 🥺

also! i noticed there’s almost 500 of you guys and i just wanted to say thank you. i’ve had this blog for almost two years now and i’m grateful for all of you that followed. i went through a major change last year and i wonder if you any of you stayed nontheless, if not, i’m still thankful. i know i’m not very consistent and i think that’s okay, i’m trying my best to write what i think is worthy of being shown to you guys, i hope you don’t mind. i’ll still try better this year and i hope you’ll stay to watch me grow ! again, happy new year !

love, cloverfics ☘︎︎

Saying your perception of being an adult has changed over the years would be an understatement. How you went from dreaming about living on your own and having a job to wishing you were still a kid and being able to run around to an extent, you would never have the answer.

Having loads of work piled onto you, bills, school, it was stressful. And you wanted nothing more than to do nothing. But you knew if you started that, your load would get larger and you'd get lost in the heaps.

So, you glued yourself down to your computer chair and forced yourself to get it over with. Luckily you found your groove in the peace and quiet of your home, no sound other than the soft alternative you've come accustomed to. No, there was just that and quiet, no voices, no Oi—

"Honey, I'm home!" The rather loud voice that made your sweet serene scratch to a stop, jolted you forward. The tiniest bit of your herbal tea landing on your laptop. You thanked the Gods it didn't land on your papers, but if Oikawa had been any louder, who knows?

Not even a moment later was his presence barging through the door of your shared office. "Did you miss me, my sweets?" You cringed at the nickname.

"Please, never refer to me like that ever again." You said, a hint of humor in your voice. You placed your cup down before turning to face him. Clad in sweats, he had just returned from where he said he'd be all day. Practice.

Oikawa slumped momentarily at the disapproval of the nickname. Obviously thinking up something, you could tell those awful gears were turning in his head.

"How about Did you miss me, my empress?" He tried in a fabricated charming tone, waltzing his way over to you and your clutter.

You giggled. "Can't you just greet me like a normal person, ever?"

"There's no fun in that, love." A gentle kiss was pressed to your lips. It was soft, sweet, and quick. No matter it made you realize how much you had missed him all this time. Even with his borderline annoying antics, you had missed him.

Being locked up in your office with boatloads of papers and assignments had kept your mind off of him. It was a shame that after that very much needed peck that you had the urge to turn back to that computer and continue to work.

"What're we up to?" Oikawa placed a hand on the top of your chair, the other on your desk, nudging at your assignments.

"The usual." You answered monotonously, averting your attention back to the screen. You heard Oikawa's scoff.

"How long?" You hummed, leaning back in your chair. Peeling your eyes to look at him once again. Unlike before, his face was contorted into something serious.

You were aware how much Oikawa hated seeing your work like this. He thought it was damaging for you and he was right. But what was there for you to do?

"Someone's worried," Your teasing tone didn't pass by Oikawa like it usually did. His eyes connected with yours, worry and concern were the only emotions you were deciphering.

"I am. ___, seriously, how long?" It nearly made you wince, how serious Oikawa was. But you couldn't judge him, he obviously had the right.

You sighed, angling your head forward again. "Just a couple hours... is all."

"And did you take any breaks?"

A weak smile etched onto your face. You placed your fingertip onto the fine china, "To make tea."

Oikawa sighed, almost like it was in disappointment. "You can't doing this to yourself. I won't let you."

A tired groan left you. Deciding it was time to be left alone with your work again, you waved Oikawa off. "There's nothing more I can do, Toru. I have work to do and I can't just put it off."

His warm hand was placed a top of yours that was about to retreat, soon locking with your own fingers. "I know, but I can't stand it. Plus! You need to take more breaks," Oikawa urged but your face proved you were indifferent.

"Here. Let's take one now. I'm about to shower but I can spare some time to sweat a bit more, if you catch my drift." The face that was indifferent soon twisted into one of disgust, even if it was half serious.

"I don't think I want to catch your drift," You narrowed your eyes at Oikawa. But when he erupted in a fit of laughter is when they softened.

"Get your mind out of the gutter, my love. I meant let's dance. But if you really had your mind set on something else..." Oikawa trailed off. You scoffed, feeling yourself become flustered as you fell for one of his traps.

"What do you mean dance?"

Oikawa chuckled, departing from behind your chair and over to the speaker that still played that lo—fi music. "What else would I mean by dancing, honey?"

You sighed. You obviously didn't have your mind set on twirling around with Oikawa as a break but it's not like you minded either. And when he played a familiar classical tune is when you knew you really didn't mind.

"Wow, you really know how to get someone out of their chair, Toru." You eased up from the confines of your desk chair, stretching and letting your bones crack.

"What can I say, I know what you like..." Oikawa mused, making his way back over you. You made a small sound of surprise when he took your hand into his own and guided you to the middle of the office. The only part that wasn't taken up by drawers, desks, or chairs. Just you and Oikawa.

Oikawa hummed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands landing at your waist. "How long has it been since we danced like this?" He asked softly, chin landing on your shoulder.

"What was it? You sister's wedding—? No! Tanaka and Kiyoko's!" You both laughed in harmony as you reminisced on that day.

"What a pretty ceremony." You continued.

Oikawa followed, "We should've caught that bouquet but Bokuto just had to have it." He grumbled, you could tell some of his envy was true. You smiled remembering how upset he was when Bokuto lunged in front for him and Akaashi.

"It was sweet though. I can't wait for those two to get married." There was a window of silence after you said those words. You could those gears were turning in Oikawa's head again, but your own were going too.

"What about ours?" Oikawa whispered. Rather than being taken by surprise, you smiled wider. It was like he was reading your mind. You always wondered if Oikawa had gotten the bouquet that day would you guys be planning your wedding at this very second.

You leaned your head back a bit, signaling for Oikawa to lift his. Your gazes collided, "Whenever you want to start planning, just say the word."

Your answer seemed to have caught Oikawa off guard, seeing as he stopped swaying. "Really?" There was a specific twinkle in his eyes, and did you adore it.

"Yes, really—" Your confirmation was cut off by an excited pair of lips. You giggled against them, pleased to see that Oikawa was more than happy to start planning your wedding.

Oikawa pulled back, an excited expression that matched his lips on his face. "Good because I had this idea that we should—" Your mind, unfortunately, tuned out Oikawa's rambling of his plans for the future. All you could think about how the person who cared so dear for you was ready to get married to you.

There was good in becoming an adult, you supposed. You could be wed to the one who made these endless work nights all the better. Even if it was just dancing in your office.

[time-to-write-and-suffer]

Hello Eff, I just wanted to let you know that your writing is honestly so amazing and I hope that one day my writing can get as good as yours. If you don't mind may I ask how you got so good at writing and at coming up with such compelling concepts and characters? Also do let us know if your book ends up getting published in the future. I would love to read it. ❤️

Hi I'm the anon who asked about your writing. I'm so sorry to clutter your inbox again, but I accidentally hit send without finishing writing. 😅

I just wanted to thank you for running this wonderful blog of yours. Like I'm scrolling through tumblr and I feel kind of insecure about my writing and then I just see your posts talking about your writing and your ideas and you just seem so passionate and driven about them that it makes me feel a lot better about my writing and my characters. You seem like such a nice and genuine person and seeing your blog posts inspire me to give more time to writing and to keep doing it even if my writing is not the absolute best, so thank you so much for that. Also I just love your blog overall,pardon my language but all the haters can go fuck themselves, you seem lovely and don't deserve some of the hate you get. Keep your head held high and I wish you all the best with your writing. ❤️

Aaaaa Nonny you're too nice! 🥺💖 Thank you for the kind words! I was so stunned by your message(s) that I didn't know how to respond for a while, so sorry if this is late ^^'

I honestly still don't know how to respond to most of this, but I'll give it a shot.

How'd I git gud?

Well, that's sort of subjective, innit? I don't think I'm particularly good, nor do I think I'm particularly bad. I think in terms of prose I'm pretty mediocre, as I've read writing (in books and on tumblr) that's both a lot more competent and evocative than my own, but I've also read some absolute garbage that made my eyes turn inside out. I usually strive for simplicity when I write and try to keep my prose as "invisible" as I can, so I can usually skate by on mediocrity and nobody notices and that's sort of the point.

I think the main thing that has given me a certain amount of skill in writing is that I've been going at it for a very long time, since I was like 9-10. And I've been reading for even longer. Both of those will help you not necessarily develop your writing (I started writing exclusively in English relatively recently, but I've been reading and writing in Swedish for ages before then and I learned how to read in Russian as a kid), but reading in particular will help you develop your storytelling and give you a sense of what you want and don't want to accomplish in your own work. It basically gives you a mental library of stories, plots, character archetypes etc.

I honestly think that's more important to know what you want and what you dislike when you craft your own story than it is to have a technical prowess. Because once you have that goal in mind, it's a lot easier to develop the necessary skills to reach it.

However, my passion lies in storytelling more than the art of writing itself, so your mileage may vary and you might not share that goal at all. I don't have any tips on developing your prose since that's never been my own goal, but I think reading a lot and figuring out what writing styles you do and don't like will help tremendously here as well.

(Putting the rest of my reply under the cut because it got long, oops.)

How do I do characters and concepts?

It's honestly the same thing here as the previous question, over time you develop a sense of what you like and dislike and that ends up reflected in the stories and people you create. If you line up all my characters side-by-side, you'll see that they're all quite similar, and that there are some archetypes that I don't touch and some that I come back to constantly.

(A lot of this also depends on how I present these characters and concepts on my blog. Everything seems a bit more exciting and fun when it's short and sweet and there's a bit of mystery and sense of hype behind it. Nobody really knows how the story is turning out and whether my posts about it are accurate to what's actually on the page.)

What I usually do is that I have a role in mind for a character, like, who are they in the story? Then, depending on their importance (protagonist and love interest/deuteragonist get the highest priority since I'm a romance-heavy writer), I start to figure out their motivation, what they want vs. what they need is my main base and most important part of any main character I make, then why they want something and why they need something else. What has made them want this thing, and what stops them from realizing they need something different?

An important thing for me is internal consistency. I want to always know why a character acts the way they do, what underlying explanation or motivation they have for being what they are. There should be a base, a red threat of characterization that makes them true to the reader.That's not "realistic," but this is fiction. People are complicated, but characters should be simple. IMO you reach complexity through simplicity. Break your OCs down to their base levels and then start building from there, while always keeping in mind how you got here. Does that make sense?

As for concepts, I'm personally inspired by things I dislike more than things I like. I find something I think I can fix, something I can do better, and I smugly get to work. It's a weird confidence-booster, like "if this got published, my take on this will blow people's dicks off." It's ... not for everyone, but like, whatever motivator gets you going is good enough tbh. Art comes in many shapes and from many sources. Some write from love, some from pain, some from catharsis. I write mainly from spite, but I also enjoy power fantasies, so my stories often end up as subversions or different takes on familiar tropes with powerful protags at the lead.

Blog stuff

I’m really glad my shitty little collection of nonsense helps you in some way, and I appreciate your support! As for the hate, it’s difficult to know when it’s someone critiquing me in good faith and when it’s genuine malice, but I tend to give people the benefit of the doubt. Given the way I present myself online, it’d be hypocritical to shut down any responses I get as hate. I’m often inflammatory and unpleasant and people don’t like that and it’s fine.

Anyway, thank you again for your sweet messages! <3 Good luck with your writing and projects! ^^

[merakiui]

hey!! i was lucky enough to stumble across your blog, & i'm enjoying your writing!! could i request something for a first date w/ sian? maybe something more casual, like a cafe!

(I’m glad you like it! Hopefully this is what you had in mind with your request! I went for a “friends to lovers” vibe in a modern setting if that’s okay. Please enjoy and thank you for such a fun request!)

Courtesy Coffee (Sian)

You met under unpleasant circumstances. Sian was in a rush to get to his destination, and you were staring down at your phone with a cup of iced coffee in your other hand. Like that banal trope in shoujo manga, the two of you crashed into one another, and your drink spilled all over his outfit. As complete strangers, it was obvious that the one who was drenched would be incredibly frustrated. That was an exact observation, only Sian didn’t feel the need to use a filter that day.

“Are you kidding me? Watch where you’re going!” he had yelled, gripping his soaked shirt and glaring daggers at you. “How am I supposed to show up to work looking like this?!”

Anyone would feel frightened with his exasperated tone of voice and the intimidating aura that surrounded him, but you weren’t one to surrender immediately.

Straightening your shoulders, you met his heated stare. “I’m sorry. At least it wasn’t hot, right?” Hoping to dispel his anger, you smiled a little. “I can buy you a clean shirt if it’ll make you feel better.”

He puffed his cheeks out, suddenly bashful as he avoided your gaze. “It’s the least you could do! Seriously, this is the worst. I smell just like your stupid coffee.”

“Hey, don’t diss my iced coffee. It’s delicious and you know it.”

“If it’s so good, why is it all over me?” he snapped, crossing his arms. “This’ll stain, you know!”

“I offered to get you another shirt.”

“It’s not just on my shirt, you moron! I can’t face my colleagues like this. You have no idea what they’ll say.”

“Suck it up then!”

“No!”

You sighed heavily, gripping your empty coffee cup. “There’s no need to be difficult. Just let me get you a clean polo and slacks. Unless you’d rather parade around in wet, coffee-smelling attire. You’re making a scene with all of your yelling.”

“You were just yelling, too. Fine, whatever. I guess you can do that.”

Even as you spied his blush, you couldn’t ignore your thoughts. Is he seriously embarrassed by the fact that I’m getting him clothes? Anyone would do this to repay the damage. 

“That’s all I needed to hear. Oh, and for the record you’re the one who should watch where you’re going.”

He didn’t take those words too well. Regardless, that was how you met the guy with a loud mouth and an even louder personality. You ran into him twice after that incident, and each time he seemed to stumble over himself. He tried to thank you for the clothes, but all he could manage was a huff and an angry comment about how the fabric was uncomfortable. Weeks later, that same boy just so happened to feel bad about starting a few shouting matches with you during those three times you interacted. He saw you in a café by chance and secretly covered your drink fee, making the barista promise not to reveal his identity. It was a sweet gesture, despite being anonymous and a bit of a shock on your end. You’d never experienced the magic that was receiving your drink for free, but it was great nonetheless.

You enter work that morning with a cheery disposition, passing by coworkers and even engaging in kind banter with those who aren’t the friendliest. You clock in and make your way towards the elevator while scrolling through an online article. Hearing a familiar ping, you glance up, urging whoever’s inside to hold the door. There are four other people crammed within the area, all of whom are silently waiting for the elevator to rise. You push the button for your floor and relax. Momentarily, you glance around the enclosed space to see if you can recognize anyone from your department. Your eyes sweep from one person to the next, and you spot polite Nine at the very back.

You’re compelled to greet him, but someone stands in your way. Someone who bears an uncanny resemblance to the guy who was showered in iced coffee two weeks ago. You gasp and turn away, hoping he won’t notice you.

No way! We work for the same company? What’re the odds? This must be a bad omen! I don’t want to start another fight with him, you think, having done your best to erase those memories.

The elevator pings, and you’re completely distracted. Though you don’t miss the hand that taps your shoulder. Your gaze follows his arm. It’s that guy again.

“Hey. This is your floor, isn’t it?”

The number doesn’t lie, but Sian’s memory might as he struggles to recall your familiar features. It clicks just as you bolt out of the elevator, the doors slipping shut and obscuring your backside for good. Sian blinks rapidly as his face heats up. That was...

Coffee idiot! he thinks. There’s no mistaking that stupid look on their face. He’s thrown into a bad mood at once, internally grumbling as he remembers that day. Even if he changed into new clothes, he still smelled of coffee. It was embarrassing, and his bothersome colleagues wouldn’t leave him alone. And now we work in the same building. Maybe I should just quit so I don’t have to face them.

"Can you believe it, Youssef?” you ask your deskmate, having ranted to him while typing up the progress of this week’s publication. At least that’s a monetary positive for the company. You can’t say the same for your mentality, though. “I do something nice in return and he yells at me. And then we meet again—twice—and he’s still rude.”

Youssef tilts his head, a childish gesture for someone his age. “Are you sure you’re not incorrectly reading his actions?”

“I’m positive. When have I ever been wrong?” You frown as your fingers slow their pace on the keyboard. “I just found out today that we work in the same building. This is totally unfair. Why do I have to bear the burden of knowing this information?”

“I’m sure he means well. What does he look like? I might know him.” You describe him to your helpful colleague, who nods and taps his chin in thought. His expression lights up with recognition. “If I remember correctly, his name is Sian, and he’s in the marketing department. We’ve only talked briefly, but I can assure you he’s quite diligent with his work.”

“Well, everyone’s got their own personality outside of their jobs.”

“I suppose, but it’s not polite to label someone based off of such little knowledge,” he advises lightly, turning his attention back to his computer screen. “Rather than using all of your energy painting a bad image of him, you should spend that time getting to know him. It’ll fix any negative impressions you may have.”

“Something tells me he wouldn’t like that...”

Since then, you haven’t run into Sian once. At first you made it your mission to keep an eye out for him, but now that you’ve been busy with this new project you can’t be bothered to let his image clutter your mind. So you brush him aside like a cobweb, certain you won’t bump into him again. Your floors are far enough apart, so it’s unlikely that that’ll happen. But you’re not always the luckiest, and fate tends to tease those who aren’t on good terms with one another.

You’re close to running late on a rainy day, having missed the train, so now you’re doing everything you can to catch a taxi. Cars speed by on the road, and you fail to flag down a vehicle. Dejected and soaked to the bone, you drag your feet along the slick sidewalk, wishing for your next paycheck so that you can put it towards a used car. Speaking of cars, one slides past you as it makes an effort to park along the walkway. In doing so, the tires kick up a huge puddle, effectively soaking your lower half. As if the day couldn’t have gotten any worse. The car almost moves out of the spot before it halts, and the window steadily rolls down to reveal the face of your greatest enemy.

Well, he’s not technically your greatest enemy, but it really feels like it in that moment.

“Do you need a ride?” As if correcting himself, he quickly adds, “I’m not doing this because it’s you! I’m just sympathizing.”

Does it matter? you wonder, bitter and cold and wet. Karma is so brutal.

“You’re Sian, right?” You approach his car, peering in at the flustered man. “From marketing.”

“Y-Yeah. So what?”

“I’m in publishing.” Awkwardly, you look up at the cloudy sky. “It’s really coming down. The forecast didn’t call for this much rain.”

“Are you getting in or not?”

“But you’re a stranger,” you jest, fixing him with a pout. “I don’t want scary Sian to kidnap me.”

He glowers at your joke. “I’m leaving now. I don’t have time for this.”

You hold back a chuckle, tearing open the door before he can drive off. “Wait! Sorry, I’ll get in. I can’t stand another minute in this rain.”

The window slides up, and he sets the car in motion after you’ve buckled up, easing back into the flow of traffic smoothly. Now that you’re sitting there with the AC blowing cool air at your face, you shudder. Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be in clothes that are warm and untouched by the rain. In his peripheral, Sian catches your shivering form, and he switches the AC from cold air to hot. You might not dry as quick as one would hope, but at least it’s something.

The silence is utterly tense. You almost expect him to bicker with you like he did in the past. Instead, he’s focused on the winding road ahead. Though you don’t miss the pink hue that tints his cheeks and gradually rises to his ears.

“So,” you say, if only to get a conversation going. “How’s work?”

“Fine, I guess. How did you know who I was?”

“My friend Youssef.”

“Oh.”

“You probably don’t know me. I’m (Name).”

“I already know.”

“Really? Stalker.”

“I’m not a stalker!” he exclaims, glaring hard at the windshield. “You’re kind of hard to miss.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’re always so loud at our company parties. How can anyone ignore that?” Sian then proceeds to bless your ears with a story from this year’s holiday party. A few departments got together and went out for drinks and karaoke. Naturally, you had a drinking contest with your colleagues, which led to a tipsy night of bad singing and stumbling from one bar to the next. You were surprised Sian remembered that, mainly because you couldn’t recall seeing him there. And it’s been months since that rowdy night. “Do you see my point?”

“Don’t remind me. That hangover hurt my soul.”

He quirks a smile at that. “It’s not flattering when you sing high notes in the wrong key.”

“Like you could do any better.”

“I can because I was sober.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You roll your eyes, gazing out at the scenery that passes by in a blur of dull colors. Without meaning to, you eye Sian’s reflection in the window, taking note of his side profile. He’s actually quite handsome when he’s calm and not acting so stubborn. “I guess we’re even now.”

“Even?”

“I spilled coffee on you, and you splashed me when your tires hit that puddle.”

“Am I supposed to buy you clothes now?”

“If you’re offering...”

“I wasn’t offering!”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got a spare uniform in my locker.”

I wasn’t worried to begin with, you coffee idiot, Sian thinks, gripping the steering wheel. He keeps track of your occasional trembling, and he can’t help but feel troubled. You’ll catch a cold if you don’t dry off soon. Suddenly, he regrets pulling up beside you and accidentally sending water flying in your direction. This time it was definitely his fault, wasn’t it? Sian wants to make it up to you, but it’s impossible. He’ll die of embarrassment before he succeeds in performing a good deed in front of you.

Truthfully, he’s always noticed you. The very first instance was last year at the company’s drinking party. You were glued to Youssef’s side, engaging in idle chatter with him and another guy he wasn’t too familiar with. At the time, Sian thought your behavior was obnoxious. No one wants their younger coworker clinging to them. It just made you look like an attention-seeking puppy. Although you were definitely upbeat at that party. He had watched you chug an entire pint of beer like it was nothing and then join in on a pointless game of Ten Fingers with enough energy to put a child to shame.

He thought you were annoying at first, and yet there was something captivating about your personality. He’d never had the guts to approach you outright, so when he ran into you that day all of his frustrations just spilled over. He was angry at himself for not having the courage to talk to you at every company party, and now that he had a chance he couldn’t think of what to say. He hadn’t mentally prepared anything! So he said the first thing that came to his mind, which passed through his unfiltered lips in a very abrupt manner.

But you didn’t show any fear. You hardly flinched. Instead you met his words with a few of your own, and that’s what ruffled Sian’s feathers. You were so good at communication, and he was very much unskilled, usually relying on phrases he prepared in his head. It’s not like he couldn’t talk. He could when he was interested in a certain subject or whenever he was reading from a page, but in front of someone he admired... Sian knew he’d make a fool of himself.

Now that you’re sitting in the passenger seat of his car, he has every opportunity to say what he wants. Yet the words scramble in his brain, and he can’t calm his racing heart. Before he can think of anything witty, the building comes into view, and the parking garage has never seemed so dismal. Sian’s kicking himself as he parks, disappointed with how he handled that situation.

“Thanks for this. I’ll go on ahead.” You unbuckle, holding your briefcase and squeezing water from your blazer. “I’m sorry if I got your seat wet.”

“It’s...fine.”

You’re going to walk away and then he’ll become the coffee idiot. He opens his mouth to say something that’ll stop you, but you turn around at the right moment.

“Let’s get coffee sometime in the future. You deserve it after all the trouble I gave you,” you propose, smiling earnestly. And I feel guilty for my initial judgement. Youssef was right.

Sian’s eyes widen, and he struggles to remain stoic. “Oh, uh...”

“That’s okay with you, right?”

“I guess. Whatever works for you.” He shrugs.

“Great!” You retrieve a pen from your case and close the distance between the two of you. Humming, you snatch his hand, spreading his fingers so that his palm is wide open. And then you scribble something on it, grinning in satisfaction. Sian stares at you the entire time, his face blank and head filled with static. “Text me the days you’re available. See you later!” You tuck the pen away, hastily dashing in the direction of the elevator.

Sian stands there for a moment, slack-jawed. He forces himself to look down at his hand. Your number is written on his skin in smudged ink. His face erupts in a flurry of red. That coffee idiot...

------

“It’s not a date,” Sian mutters as he walks to the café. “It’s not. Stop thinking that way.”

But maybe it is a date, the voice in the back of his mind whispers, goading him into believing so. He dressed as casually as possible, but he still hopes it’ll impress you. There are plenty of fears that flood his head, and he almost turns around as soon as he gets to the entrance. But he’s come this far, and he’d regret it forever if he left now. This might be his only chance; he can’t afford to pass it up. So he pushes open the door in search of you. It doesn’t take long to locate your form amongst the few who are inside. Sian’s pulse rushes into overdrive, and he clenches his jaw.

It’s not a date. Act natural.

You look up from your phone just as he slides into the seat across from you. A warm smile blossoms across your face, and you tuck your mobile away. “Sian, you made it! I was worried you wouldn’t come.”

“It’d be rude if I didn’t show up after you made all those plans.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Well, thank you. Now I won’t have to feel bad about Monday morning.”

You had felt bad? Sian’s cheeks must be burning intensely bright now, but there’s nothing he can do. “It’s your fault for being an idiot.”

You chuckle. “That makes two of us. One idiot ignored the forecast, and the other wasn’t watching where he was going.”

“Whatever. Just so we’re clear, I’m not as stupid as you.” He crosses his arms and huffs. “And you don’t have any taste. I mean, iced coffee? Really?”

“It’s good!” you insist. “You’re missing out. Everyone knows iced coffee is better than hot coffee.”

“Is it now? I don’t agree with that statistic.”

“You’re allowed to have your own opinion, Mr. Sian,” you tease. “Give me your drink order. I’ll go get it.”

“What? No way. I’ll pay.”

“As if! I’m treating you.”

“You already bought me clothes.”

“And now I’m going to buy you coffee. It’s to say thanks for picking me up during that storm.”

“I would’ve left you on that sidewalk if I knew you were going to make it a hassle now!”

“Just accept my kindness!”

Sian shuts his mouth, giving into your demand. He grumbles his order, and you’re very happy as you make your way towards the register to get the two of you drinks and pastries. He watches as you pay, releasing a soft sigh. It’s hard to say no to someone you’ve admired for so long. Sian’s not sure when he started to like you, but he’s certain these recent interactions have only added fuel to the burning fire residing in his heart. It’s embarrassing to think he’s even on a romantic outing with you, but it’s not like the two of you are close friends. So then what does that make this?

When you return to the window table, setting down the drinks and a plate with two strawberry bread puddings, he’s shaken from his daydreams. This is actually happening. It’s not just another fantasy he’s imagined while witnessing you drink your sanity away at parties.

“I’m not sure if you like strawberries, but I—“

“I guess it’s okay,” he interrupts, trying to hide the fact that he actually likes it very much.

“Good!” You ease into your chair. “You’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a sip from his latte. “Huh.”

“You seemed really upset when I spilled my coffee on you. But anyone would be, so it’s completely understandable. I thought you hated me because of that. When we saw each other again, you were pretty sensitive.”

“I’m not sensitive!” he snaps, proving your point. “That was a white shirt you ruined.”

“Will you feel better if you dump coffee on me?”

“What? Why would I do that? I’m not going to do something as petty as that!”

“Aw, so you do care.”

“I don’t. Get lost.”

You break out into a laughing fit, genuinely amused at his coldness. Even if he doesn’t want to show it, he’s quite nice, and you’re relieved that he didn’t turn out to be a bully seeking revenge. Then again, it’s been weeks since that incident. 

“It’s not funny!”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re just so expressive. It’s hard not to laugh.”

A furious red darkens his face, and he decides to fumble with his fork in order to give his hands something to do. The bread pudding is surprisingly delicious. He fumes in his embarrassment while he eats.

Eventually, the two of you converse about work and that project your department took on. Sian listens to your rambling as you go on and on about how irksome it is when last-minute changes are made to a finalized draft. He enjoys every story you tell him, and by the time the plate is empty he feels as if he’s grown closer with you. Could this be the beginning of a friendship? He’s hit with a sudden wave of inspiration for lyrics that will never be sung. At least they can fester on a page in his notebook, where he’ll return on countless occasions to proofread and debate over the meaning of each line. Oh, how he’d love to share his music with you. It’ll take a while before he does something as bold as that, though.

“I just got an idea! There’s this awesome bar thirty minutes from work. I usually go with my friends because they’ve got a bunch of games you can play. Board games, card games—you name it. We should go one of these days.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah! You seem like a fun guy to hang out with. Card games might sound boring, but they’re actually really fun when you’re playing for money. And when you’ve got a few drinks in your system.”

Sian struggles to hide the giddy smile that threatens to split his lips. “No... It sounds perfect. I’m actually really good at Slapjack, so be prepared to lose miserably!”

“Is that a challenge? What should we wager?”

"How about a meal? Loser has to pay for the winner’s lunch.”

“All right. It’s a deal. I’ll keep you updated on my schedule so that we can choose a weekend to meet up.”

“Sure!” Sian’s face won’t stop heating up and he can’t slow his erratic heartbeat. “I mean, I’ll only do it so I can get a free lunch. It’s not like I’m agreeing for your sake.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever floats your boat.”

His chest feels airy and light, almost as if he’s in a dream. Your words weigh on his conflicted heart. How can anyone make plans so easily? If the roles were reversed, he’d be an absolute mess. It’d be so embarrassing; Sian would probably want to curl up and disappear if he ever tried to ask you out on his own volition. You probably don’t even feel the same way. After all, this is merely two coworkers having a normal conversation. But he can’t get stuck in the friend zone. That’d be the worst outcome to all of this. So in the meantime he’ll do his best to act cordial. He can hide his shy demeanor and fluffy feelings behind a blunt attitude.

“All of this planning makes it seem like we’re a couple,” you muse with flirtatious intent. Leaning back in your chair, you gauge Sian’s reaction. Just as you figured, he’s turning crimson. It’s honestly endearing to see him get so flustered. “What do you think, Sian?”

“I... I don’t know. Don’t say stupid things! It’s really annoying.”

No matter how sharp his words are, you know he doesn’t mean it. After all, his expression clearly refutes those claims.

“Sian and (Name), sitting in a tree—“

“Shut up!”

If this isn’t a date, then what’s with all the flirting?

Sian’s going to have to take a cold shower when he gets home to lower his body temperature. And to scrub away the embarrassment that’s washed over him like rain.

It’s not a date. It’s just coffee with an acquaintance. Yeah. Just courtesy coffee.

He couldn’t be any further from the truth.

[sayyoullstaytamera]

i like ur content almost entirely except for the racing fandom stuff? so nothing personal, i block the op blog just so my dash is a little less cluttered (no hate at all! just not my thing😂) but then more content pops up the next day and it's another racing fan blog? so i block that, but then there's more again?? i had NO IDEA there was such a huge fandom out there! (NOT asking u to change content in any way, I'm just tickled at my cluelessness apparently? LMAO. seriously tho, never change ❤️)

Firstly Hi Anon 👋

Secondly, glad you like majority of my content.

A heads up, you’ll see more F1 or racing fandom as you’ve referred to it as, during the weekend as it is a sport that is run/participated in on a weekend. Unless Lando is doing a twitch stream and then you know I’m gonna post my boys twitch stream.

As you’ve probably picked up if you’ve been following me for a while, I’m shit at tagging posts. This is due to me speed reblogging on my phone.

Motorsport has always been apart for my life and the fact that I’ve joined the F1 community on tumblr and actually feel at home there, is amazing cause I haven’t really felt that in a tumblr community before, so unfortunately I’m not going to stop now. Plus I cannot be bothered to start a side blog now that I’ve fallen to far down the rabbit hole to create a whole new side blog 😂

My best suggestion would be to blacklist the following terms:

F1, Formula One, Ferrari, Mercedes, Haas, Renault, McLaren, Racing Point, Williams, AlphaTauri, Alfa Romeo, DTS and Drive to Survive, Red Bull Racing.

However that’s up to you and I completely understand if you unfollow, so that your dash isn’t clogged with all my F1 posts.

[signaturedish]

Hello! I have probably slapped you in the face with my notifications of likes and stuff. I love your PA story, it is. The. Best. I freaking love it, my friend. May I ask about that would have happened had Harry been like; thrown in at ROTF instead of the FIRST movie? I have no idea if I'm making sense.

Thanks so much for asking and filling up my notifications!! I’m so glad you like my blog and am very flattered you love my fic so much haha!

You’re making total sense, I get it. 

We diverged hard at the end of the first movie so the timeline PA is on will never get to RotF in a super concrete way. So dropping Harry in any particular moment of the sequel would make for a very different story. 

A more aimless story honestly, the events of RotF were so cluttered that it was hard to find a good spot to start changing things. 

There’s only a couple of places I could put him where he’d be with Megatron. The Decepticons are all busy with the Fallen and getting hunted down by NEST so if he pops up within the first 20 mins he needs to be near Sam’s college somewhere on the East Coast, I think? Or in Egypt at the very end if he’s not being adopted by Autobots. 

So let’s say around the week(?) Sam spends spazzing out in his classes with the Alice Decepticon on his tail, he suddenly finds himself right outside campus with a tiny kid staring up at him dreamily. He remembers going to bed after that awful night at Leo’s party but not getting dressed and leaving. 

“I’m here,” The kid says in a very clearly English accent, he’s barefoot and in raggedy pajamas. It’s the middle of the night. 

Sam wants to ask if the kid’s lost, but he’s blinded by sigils and voices, and lights and stars as whatever is happening, happens again. Too much information, static nonsense ripping behind his eyes seeps down his spine and into his hands like cold cement. 

The voices are louder, or are they screaming? Sam can’t tell, can only stand ramrod straight with his arms out and endure as he feels like someone’s squeezing the very last centimeter of toothpaste out of his chest, his arms, his hands. It hurts. 

When true awareness finally comes to Sam, he’s on his knees in the wet grass outside his campus breathing a mile a minue. The girl from earlier that night- Alice- is hovering over him with wide, wide eyes. What was she doing out too? Her mouth was moving, shrill demands piercing the cold night air, but it was going right over Sam’s head. 

He lets his gaze drop and can’t bite back a shriek of terror, falling on his ass and scooting away frantically from the sizzling black patch of baked blood and gelatinous sludge. 

It was right where the kid had been.

“Holy fucking slag.” Alice says, the first thing to reach his ringing ears. He’s only heard Ironhide say something similar, but he can agree with the shock and horror in her voice. 

“I j-just killed a kid.” Sam choked out, and then his perspective shifts higher as something thin and unyielding wraps around his waist and picks him up.

He cranes his neck to find hot-but-not-terribly-toned Alice hefting him up like a soiled puppy under one arm, she hunches over the steaming gore and picks up something just beyond it- something he hadn’t seen before.

“No,” Alice says in wonder, raising the bundle of silver spikes and angles up into the moonlight, “you just made a sparkling.”

 Then Sam’s night got infinitely more confusing. 

Alice wasn’t Alice anymore, instead a spindly Decepticon with round blue optics and articulated long helm protrusions was sprinting through streets, parks, neighborhoods, and alleys effortlessly carrying Sam and the silver thing all the while. 

No matter how he screamed for help or struggled, no one was around and they quickly made it to the outskirts of the city where Grindor the Decepticon helicopter picked them up and sped off without a word, gears straining to go even faster.

Sam was discarded in a heap next to Starscream and Alice carried the bundle all the way to newly revived Megatron.

Alice has already told him exactly what she saw while spying on Sam and Megatron is skeptical. A human turning into a Cybertronian? Impossible. Why would the Allspark even bother? This must be some trick.

He holds Harry close, examining his fragile frame and visible spark socketed behind nearly transparent armor. He’s trying to find the lie when Harry wakes up, crying and shivering, overwhelmed. Protocols kick in immediately.

Megatron is growling low in reassurance, bringing the sparkling closer to himself for heat. Whatever terror the sparkling feels upon getting a good look at him is instantly dismissed under his stroking servos and steady gaze. 

Harry is overwrought and desperately wants to run away. He’s stuck in a robot body that feels, sees, hears, smells too much. He doesn’t know where he is or how he got there, he doesn’t know why that voice chose to do what it did and join him. The only escape he can find is burrowing closer to the monster purring warmth and affection towering before him, hiding in his claws as they cup around him and shield him from whatever terrifying future awaited beyond their embrace. 

He wants this creature to keep him safe and never put him down.

They bond in an indescribable, fluid instant, and Megatron realizes he needs to reorganize his plans immediately.

The Fallen can’t destroy the sun, Harry is much too small for space travel and this planet has the nearest resemblance to Cybertronian temperatures. They can’t afford the ambush he’s been awaiting eagerly either, Prime and his scrapheaps were no doubt mere minutes away now, they hadn’t been discreet in their plans to kidnap the human. His base was more a battleground than anything, there would be no proper cover for the sparkling.

“Doctor!” Megatron shouted, processors whirring. “Look over the human- is he-”The human was gone, Starscream and every other Decepticon had been captivated by the sparkling and allowed him to escape. It was too late to look now. 

“Decepticons, retreat!” They didn’t have a base, icy panic trickled down his spine. They were set up off-planet with the Fallen and Starscream hadn’t bothered establishing headquarters on Earth, keeping the troops nomadic. Their only base was compromised and their escape had hinged on victory in battle, battle that was no longer acceptable. 

There was nowhere to go. With the Fallen in command, Megatron wasn’t even aware of how close the next set of reinforcements were.

In any other situation, he’d have to take his chances, rely on his cunning and strength to escape without damage and discover a place to hide, he’d resign himself to sacrificing useful troops to delay NEST pursuit. 

But with Prime...a more reckless option might have a much better payoff.

No more time to consider it, Prime and the Autobots burst through the walls and ceilings, primed for battle, bolts spraying and sending his Decepticons scrambling for cover. 

His sparkling keened in fear above his spark, no doubt deafened by the terrible clatter of invasion. Megatron put his back to the action, pressing against a wall to peer over his shoulder. 

A missile ripped a chunk of brick from the wall near his helm, spraying him in debris. Megatron didn’t flinch, finding Prime’s optics in the chaos. 

He didn’t say anything, the rising cry of his newly sparked sparkling hit harder than any return fire he was capable of.

The attack ends as abruptly as it began as Optimus calls off his Autobots and stares transfixed at the little figure trembling in Megatron’s grasp. He graciously allows all present Autobots to have a mini breakdown as he soothes Harry into semi-sleep mode.

With Prowl finding Sam sprinting across the grounds relatively unharmed and Harry in the possession of the woefully underprepared Decepticons, a truce is cobbed together on shared desperation. 

Alice’s account is retold, Ratchet is deployed as a technical POW to check over the brand new human-turned-sparkling, the Autobots ‘pursue’ the Decepticons without human assistance aaaaaalll the way out of the East Coast and to some secluded abandoned military base they know most human patrols don’t consider. 

For the rest of the movie, Megatron and all Decepticons present (I think there were maybe 5-6 during the Prime death scene?) not only have to treat their Autobot hostage well (enough), can’t openly attack or raid in the area close to their base without jeopardizing the safety they have hiding right under the humans’ noses, but then Megatron has to help Optimus and co when the Fallen decides that one measly sparkling is nothing compared to his millennia-long scheming and his vague idea of mass producing Decepticons with that weird hatchling thing. 

Any Decepticons still in agreement with that plan are also obstacles since the sun is now extremely important.

Overall, Megatron has a very bad time as newly resurrected lord and ruler since he has to abandon his almost successful murder of Optimus and skip out on destroying the whole miserable planet when it was right there. But he gets an adorable baby out of it so he really can’t complain.