#but as usual if you want to do it feel free to tag me!

[corazondebeskar-reads]

of rage and ruin - chapter nine

chapter nine

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werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 3.6k

summary: things take a turn for the worse.

Please read the warnings as some new important ones have been added. NOTE: this is the last time that the SA tag will be used in this story. However, the events of this chapter are important. If you decide to skip this chapter, feel free to message me and I’ll fill you in. Or message if you want specifics about the tags to decide if you want to read it.

chapter warnings: non-con, dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, sexual assault (NOT by joel, NOT described, just implied and alluded to), p in v, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You were wrong about Mike. About his lack of retaliation.

You were so, so wrong. 

That much is clear when you wake up.

The first sign that things aren’t quite right is that you never did get around to going to sleep last night. 

The second is that you may be buried, or something. You can’t quite move your limbs beyond wiggling your fingers and toes. And you can’t see shit. 

The third sign is that you can’t smell Joel. Not beyond what’s soaked into your skin and sweater. No, he’s very much not here. Or anywhere nearby, if the rapidly tightening feeling in your chest is any indication. 

It’s panic you can’t shake off, you know, since you can’t fucking move. 

The fluorescent overhead buzzes to life. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” The voice blows in from across the room and sinks in your gut like it’s sleeping with the fishes. 

You really, truly are in some deep shit. 

You’ve been kidnapped from your kidnappers. Honestly, what did you do in a past life to deserve this? 

He’s right about one thing. The confidence you clung to in the early days has been picked at like carrion. You’re scared. 

“I didn’t–I’m–” but something is wrong, so very, very wrong. You’re bubbling out gibberish and spit. It’s just sounds, dribbling from sloppy lips. 

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up. It ain’t gonna wear off for a while, so best just sit quietly like a good bitch.”

You’re not sure if it's the panic or whatever he’s drugged you with, but your throat is cinched, and your cheeks sting from the uncontrollable stream of tears. 

“Let’s see what’s so fuckin’ special about you. Why your cunt is worth more than my brother’s life,” he spits, unfortunately literally, as droplets spray. 

Shit. They were actual brothers. Not that it mattered; what was done was done, but you had really miscalculated this. 

His hand is on your shoulder. It’s better than where you thought he was reaching, and yet, still horrible. It’s not like you haven’t had to deal with handsy or aggressive men. It’s just… usually, you can move. Fight. Run. 

His hand is nothing like Joel’s. His fingers are short, his nails broken and edged with grime. There are scars and dry skin, like Joel, but it’s nothing like his rough grip. There’s no nick above the webbing of his thumb, no calluses on the plump pads of his fingers to remind you that you’re alive. 

Mike brushes his thumb over Joel’s bite, the thin newborn skin taut and jagged. You make a sound. You don’t hear it, not with the way your heart is beating in your eardrums, not the way every note scrapes your throat, but you grate out a sound that might have been a hiss. 

Or a growl.

His hand connects with your cheek, which does not help the dizziness stuffed between your ears.

 

You’re not even mad, because it makes you dizzy enough that you don’t really register what comes after. Maybe you would have been worried about that, but he hit you hard enough that you didn’t even remember how hard you’d been hit. 

He must know he’s on a dwindling timetable. Inevitably, by dawn, the others will return to the base with Joel in tow. Inevitably, by dawn, they’ll know. 

As if he can tell you’ve dug up a fragment of hope, he leers, taking a swig from a bottle of dirty brown liquor. “You think Jim’s gonna waste resources on finding you?” he murmurs, grimy fingers stroking your cheek. 

And just like that, with a sharp breath, you lose that hope. Because he’s right, he’s undeniably right. Jim never misses a chance to bitch about the drain you are. They don’t need you, not really. Neither does Joel, not really. 

It’s easy, after the hours that have passed, to give in to the overwhelming dread. His hand wanders as it settles in, and you twitch away from his touch.

“Guess it’s wearin’ off,” Mike muses, taking another drink. “Can’t have you puttin’ up a fight now.” His bottle clinks against the file cabinet he sets it upon as he squats to dig through a duffel bag. 

There’s nothing you can do when he ties you down. There’s nothing you can do as he grips your cheeks hard, his thumb digging into your jaw until your mouth opens. You try not to swallow the liquor he pours in, only to aspirate it instead, wheezing and sputtering to little effect. 

“Jesus. Can’t even handle a little booze,” he sneers. “Too bad. Can’t have you gettin’ too feisty, huh?” He forces more down your throat, and it burns. 

He keeps squeezing your face, peering down at your mouth. “Reckon I should teach you a lesson about biting,” he said, tapping the bottle lightly against your front teeth. A whimper of fear slips free, and he grins crookedly. 

“Yeah, you don’t like that, huh? My brother didn’t much like gettin’ bit, either.” 

He steps away to rifle back through the duffle, and when he comes back, it’s with a pair of rusted pliers. 

You can feel your body twitch, trying its very hardest. The lingering drugs and booze make your head spin and throb. Mike faded in and out of view, but made his presence very clear as he pried your jaw back open. 

He tapped each tooth with the pliers, hemming and hawing about where to start. Garbled sounds are all the protest you can muster, trying to shake your head loose of his grasp as he selects an incisor. 

The first two attempts fail, the pliers slipping free, battering you in the process. The third try, though, clamps on just right. He clumsily tugs, to no avail, before wiggling and twisting the tooth. Reluctantly, your body parts ways with it as he increases the force, plucking the loosened tooth from the gum. 

You can’t even really hear your own screams. There’s pain, there’s blood, there’s Mike’s sick laughter. And then there’s darkness.

—

It’s not the fight that wakes you. Not the gunshots, not the snarling. Everything has died down by the time you come around.

Well, not everything. Based on the sounds, you’d hazard a guess that Mike is still at least a little alive. When you look up, you’re thrilled to find out you can, that the paralysis has waned. 

Then, of course, you wish you hadn’t looked at all. Once you have, though, you can’t look away. You understand that Tool song now, the one from the CD your dad burned you before the world went to hell. 

For a moment, Joel meets your eyes, and you are the wolf, nearly. You can feel the way it burns through your veins. 

Satisfied that you aren’t afraid, that you’re okay for a moment, he finishes his feast. 

There’s not much left of Mike when he tosses his corpse into a corner. It smacks against the far wall and drops to the ground. His final resting place. 

The Wolf that is Joel, that is your alpha, that is your savior, stands on his hind legs with those unsettling inverse ankle-knee-freaky bits bent. But even crouching, he fills the room. He’s a blur, like the first time you saw him, an ink blot in the center of your vision. A wormhole absorbing all the light. What little is left reflects off his shiny body. It takes you a moment to realize his fur (or his body hair, as he insists) is soaked in blood. 

It clings to the plaque on his teeth. His hands are steeped in it, some already hardening or coagulating under the stretch of his claws. He stalks over to you, and you do not flinch from him. His claws rend the rope as if it were no more than spaghetti. You tremble uncontrollably as he helps you sit up, most of your faculties back under your control. His blood-soaked, massive paws cradle your cheeks, pulling back abruptly when you whimper. 

A growl rumbles from his chest, and he throws his head back and howls. It brings footsteps in your direction as he gathers you into his arms. You’ve never felt smaller than you do now, and it’s not just the bulk and heft of his body. He cradles you with a delicacy unbefitting his sharp, deadly nature, but it’s all the more Joel to you than the brutality you witnessed. 

The raiders filter in, just a few of them, more to control him than assist, but they reclaim Mike’s stolen supplies and pay you no mind. At least until Cheryl comes in. 

“Alive after all, huh?” she says, approaching far closer than you think she should dare. But she wiggles the remote to the shock collar as she nears, peering at you. “Still want her, pet?” she asks Joel. “She’s all used up.”

He bares his teeth and snarls, and she shrugs. “It was just an option,” she says, hand dropping from the pistol on her belt. 

You feel sick from the second brush with death in as many hours. Or maybe it’s from the bootleg booze and blood that’s been dripping down your throat. 

He looks down at you, long tongue poking out to lap at your cheek before he realizes the injury is inside. He whines, and you shake your head, weaving your fingers in his fur and burying your face there. He doesn’t need words; neither of you do. He just takes you home. 

No. Not home. You can’t let yourself accept that. But it’s been almost a year, now. Almost a year since they plucked you from that FEDRA truck and brought you to hell. 

It’s not the cell that’s home, though. It’s him. 

—

You look up at the wolf once you’re locked in, the relief of your familiar prison bubbling up like bile. The others go back to their day, the incident no more than a blip of inconvenience. Silence lingers, both of you waiting, waiting, waiting to hear the heavy thunk of the cellar’s deadbolt. 

As soon as it sounds, you break.

“You found me,” you gasp, trailing into a whimper. “You found me, you found me.” Your voice is grating, leaking from your cracked and dry throat. It hurts to talk, your jaw throbs, and you struggle around the swelling, but you can’t stem the leak.

He grips your biceps with both paws, and rolls back the shift enough to speak. “I found you,” he says firmly, letting you feel his sturdy hold on you, keeping you there and present. “I’ve got you. Okay?”

You don’t respond, still shaking and swaying a little on the spot. “You found me,” you echo, raw and dredged up from the hollow of your lungs. 

“Hey,” he growls without aggression. “ Listen to me. ” He doesn’t mean to do it. His voice drops a register, an even lower rumble than usual, and your attention snaps up to him. 

He winces. There’ll be time to apologize later, though. “I’ve got you,” he repeats steadily. “Okay?”

You nod. “Okay,” you echo in a whisper. 

“I will always find you,” he promises, eyes gone dark. “Always, little omega. You’re mine, and there’s nowhere on this godforsaken earth that they can hide you from me.” 

In any other context, it would frighten you. It should, by all means, frighten you a little. Instead, you kiss him.

It’s a mistake that sends you pulling back, gasping in pain, and all the ferocity on his face falls.

“Let me see,” he coaxes gently, cradling your jaw. He’s careful as he presses your lip to the side to get a good look. “ Jesus, ” he whispers.

You can see the guilt building up, layers upon layers from all his life. You won’t let this, won’t let you be another. “Joel—”

But he’s not having it. He bristles and narrows his eyes at you. “Would you stop tryin’ to run your mouth? You’re making it bleed.” His eyes dart over your face, stopping back on your missing tooth each time before sighing, shoulders slumping. 

“C’mon,” he grumbles, leaving no room for argument by simply picking you up and carrying you over to the bed. He settles with you straddling his lap, wincing. He looks down for only a moment. “I’ll take care of that next. Sit still ‘n be good.” 

It turns out not to be a hard order to follow. He sets about to lick your wounds, starting with your mouth. He doesn’t mean for it to turn into anything, he really doesn’t, but he’s licking inside your mouth. As his spit mixes with yours, as he laves his tongue oh-so-gently over and over, the familiar tingling starts to set in. It numbs the pain, not entirely, but the relief is enough to make you sigh softly against his mouth.

He can’t entirely be blamed as it turns into lazy kisses, tongues brushing comfort over one another, each press of lips like a mantra. I’m here, I’m here, I’m here. You’re not sure who’s reassuring who. 

It’s not going to fix it. There’s not a magical makeout session that can restore your tooth or even heal the socket. Not that quickly, anyway. But it eases the pain, and so does the way his warm hands hold you like you’re something precious. The way he groans into the kiss, the way he can’t stop reaching for every bit of you, checking meticulously to make sure nothing else was taken from you. 

He makes good on his promise to soothe your other wounds. He can’t quite numb your aching mind or racing heart, can’t slide his tongue over the places that shattered inside, but he can damn well remove every trace of Mike from your body.

He settles you down on the mattress, settles himself into the wolf, and he licks every inch of you. His long, hot tongue is just rough enough to make you feel clean. There’s no way even a cell of Mike’s skin is left behind on yours. Joel eats it all up like he did the man himself. It leaves your whole body tingling, your heart pounding in your ears, your cunt gushing by the time he sheaths himself in you. 

There’s no room left for anyone else. There’s no room for anything but you and Joel in the darkness. 

It’s too late before either of you realize he’s triggered his own rut. Your body responds beautifully, burning under his touch, following your alpha into blissful oblivion. He fusses relentlessly, worried despite his own distress and desire, not wanting you to feel trapped or forced. Not again. Never again. 

It’s a promise neither of you are sure he can keep, but both know he’ll die trying. 

It isn’t as long as your first heat, but it’s all the more intense. Your little room fills with sweat, pants and groans replacing any need for words. And it’s exactly what you need—no thoughts, no memories, no dealing with what you’ve suffered. Just Joel, just… love? No, that can’t be right. Just lust. 

His cock is insistent, pressing into you, filling the gaps he’d left behind. He doesn’t bother turning back to the man, doesn’t bother trying to pretend he’s anything but a mindless creature right now. And still, he’s so gentle. More gentle than he’s ever been. 

You didn’t have time to build a nest, but that’s okay. He doesn’t ever move from his place over your body, cocooning you, blocking everything else from sight. There’s just Joel. You’re warm and cozy and safe. 

You almost forget that you’re locked up at all. He keeps you on such a high with his deft fingers, mouth, and cock that you can’t even fathom a time when he might have to part from you. The lock of your cunt around his knot is your echo of his promise. Never again. 

—

“How much of this is even real?” you whisper in the fading light of your heat. Your hand is lazily raised, blocking out the fluorescents, but he catches it with his own, his thick fingers making room for themselves between yours. Locking you together in another way, keeping you close. 

“Couldn’t tell ya,” he says quietly, gruff voice even coarser in the way he holds back, keeping it soft in your ear. “Probably nothin’. But it’s there anyway.”

He was sure as shit right about that. This burning in your chest, the way your heart picked up as he wove your fingers together and tugged your hands down, using both your arms to hold you to his chest, your unified fist in the center. It’s not real, not really. You don’t know him. He doesn’t know you. There’s nothing for this heavy feeling to rest upon, no foundation for the feelings that should not be there. 

And yet.

The conversation is veering uncomfortably personal, of which you only have yourself to blame, but you run from it anyway. “You ever see Dawn of the Wolf? ” you ask, pushing for something unserious, something that’ll have him rolling his eyes and putting up a fuss about the W Word. 

That’s not what happens, though.

His breath catches for a second before rolling out in a soft sigh, his warm breath ruffling the hairs at the nape of your neck. “Yeah,” he admits. “My—” and there’s something potent in his pause. Something that saps the silliness of your subject change away and dances dangerously close to serious. 

“My daughter loved that shit,” he says. 

You can’t help the way your body stiffens. You want to roll over and look at him, to parse his pursed lips and warm eyes. He doesn’t let you, though, tightening his grip around your waist, fingers pressing a little more insistently in the divots between your knuckles until you settle. 

“Watched the damn movies, read the damn books, had the damn poster on her wall,” he says, something careful in his words. Like he’s trying to give this to you without giving anything up for himself. These memories he’s clutched in the recesses of his ventricles—they can’t be extracted without damaging the last soft tissue he could spare to wrap them in. 

“So, who’s team were you on?” you tease instead. 

“I didn’t give a shit,” he dismisses. A beat passes. “Why would she even have considered the wimpy blond vampire kid?”

“Oh, I see,” you say, nodding sagely. “You think the obvious choice was the tall, hairy, brooding wolf-man. I have to agree.”

“Shut up,” he grouses immediately. “It was all stupid, anyway. None of ‘em could stop whining.” 

You go to turn over again, but this time, he lets you, both of his arms cradling you in a way that makes your throat feel tacky and tight. It’s made worse by the way his eyes are bright, the flecks of green bursting through the brown like lichen in soil. 

“Never did get to see the sequel,” you say after a moment, trying to regain some sense in your brain.

He snorts. “Didn’t miss anything. I thought it couldn’t be worse than the first one but it was the stupidest two hours of my life.” 

“I can’t believe you saw Dawn of the Wolf 2, and I didn’t,” you say. A beat passes. “Will you tell me about her?” you ask, barely a whisper, afraid to break whatever is happening. 

“Not… not today,” he grants, and you take it for the huge step that it is, and nod, burying your face in his chest instead and taking a deep breath of his soothing scent. The oaky notes are easier to parse, now, much more complex. Hints of spices are there, sometimes. 

You’re getting too familiar. So much so that when the chamomile blossom of his grief leaks through, your grip on him tightens just a little, and you find yourself pressing a kiss to the thick thatch of hair beneath your cheek. 

It isn’t real, but how can it not be? How can something this intense not be real? No, it’s different. This isn’t real versus fake like something photoshopped, something on a green screen. 

This is more than that. The dotted lines that make up constellations aren’t real, but it doesn’t change the way those stars are bound together to make something unique, something breathtaking.

“I get it now,” he murmurs, breaking your existential reverie. 

“Get what?” you say, nose wrinkling.

He bumps his nose against yours, nudging at you in a way you know would involve a playful nip if he was his other self. “Why he didn’t just eat her,” he says.

You reward him with a bark of a laugh. “You’re still thinking about Dawn?” 

This time he does nip at you, catching your ear gently with very human teeth. “S’your fault,” he grumbles, and you feel it rumble through his chest. 

And yours. 

No, wait, that was your stomach. You’re suddenly starving, and with that revelation comes another, much worse one. You sit up so quickly that Joel follows suit, eyebrows raised. 

“What’s the matter?” He barks. 

“It’s the food,” you whisper. “That’s why they don’t let you share. That’s how Mike got me. It’s in the fucking food.”

He sits up, cupping your jaw. “Explain,” he growls.

“I think they’re drugging us,” you finally tell him. It’s been a haunting tug in the back of your brain, one you didn’t really want to admit to. There’s been a matching tug in your gut, the feeling of something not sitting quite right, but you couldn’t put a finger on it.

It had been twenty years since you had something like cough syrup, anyway. But that’s the feeling. The fuzzy spot between your eyes where the ground seems to swoop up, the way you move through the day underwater. 

“Fuck,” Joel whispers. But he can’t deny it makes sense. It makes too much goddamn sense. He’s been too fucking compliant, too fucked to care. He thought it was apathy borne of everything he’s been through. 

But goddamnit. He knows. He just knows you’re right.

[red-takami]

HEYY RED I LOVE YOUR CONTENT

i just came here bc i wanted to ask how bakugo was in your MHA DR

I'm glad you like it 🧌🖤

In 1a I mainly hang out with him, kirishima and a few others like 99% of my free time when I'm not doing something else like sleeping like the dead or fighting for my life somewhere off campus 🌚🙏🏽 me and bakugo had a very rough ish start if I'm being honest. People with big egos just piss me off more than anything else (cough cough because of my Cr dad cough) so I'm always just immediately irritated a bit when I meet people like that so it's nothing surprising. It's okay though because of course later on I moved past that and we ended up alright. When I decided to shift to mha, I basically knew nothing of it fr nor the people I was gunna be surrounded with, I was just focused and excited entirely for the whole quirk and hero shit yk.

People like bakugo, to me, are people that you will need to have patience and understanding if you want to befriend them (it feels weird talking about him like I'm giving advice to single mothers out there or sum about how to deal with an unruly kid 😭 I promise guys seriously he's not that bad at all he's a very good guy especially later on, which is why I said PATIENCE because again, he's a person that goes through a LOT in a short ass amount of time. Understanding and balancing that with your own standards/personality is key.)

My personal relationship with him is mainly just me tagging along as much as I can and eventually he just let it happen. Same thing with kirishima as well, like the reason why I even put up with his attitude was because I genuinely could see us becoming friends in the future and that's exactly what happened. Before I left, we were the closest we've been since I've been shifting to this Dr, I mainly say this because I started to withdraw from everything, school, our usual training and gym seshs, hanging out together or just being in each other's presence, I just stopped and that's what made me realize that he either got so used to it that he noticed this pretty much immediately, or he actually values our friendship (that was shady ik I'm only half joking)

Hes genuinely a good guy, again, like of course he's got his flaws but so does everyone else. Besides, we're all teenagers dude, of course we're gunna be messy. ESPECIALLY with everything happening like the hero course, and villains getting in the way, legit just making life harder for us than it already is yk.

.....his parents too? My god. I bout moved in and kicked him out of his own damn house honestly, they're both so lovely. Truthfully, they're such a beautiful family, their relationship is something I envy like hell😭. ANYWAYS

I feel like I don't talk/post about my friends back at UA so feel free to ask about any of them.

11:11 as I post this go shift yall

[tulip-room]

ramekins and fondue - m. osamu || wc: 1.4k || tags: next door neighbors -> lovers, pining, notes left on the door, fondue date, fluffy, short and sweet <3 || hq works

It starts out with needing sugar and a tentative knock on a wooden door. “I’m so sorry to bother you,” she says as the door opens and reveals a man behind it. He looks to be in his mid twenties and he’s wearing a loose shirt, his hair is tousled like he just rolled out of bed. “Oh, I’m sorry, were you sleeping?”

“It’s fine, is there something you need?” He lifts up a hand to cover his mouth as he yawns. 

“I need some sugar, if you don’t have any I can go to the store or pay you back or something–” he cuts her off with a small smile.

“I have some, you don’t have to pay me back or anything.” He opens the door wider and beckons for her to follow him inside so she carefully steps over the barrier and closes the door behind her with a click. “Here,” his voice rings out from around the corner as she hears a cabinet creak open and close. He hands her a bag of sugar that has a red clip keeping it closed. “You can have the rest of it, I needed to get more anyway.” She smiles and takes the bag from him with an appreciative nod.

“Thank you, I’ll treat you to coffee or something.” 

“Alright, I’m not home this early most nights but I can maybe squeeze you in during a lunch break on the weekend.”

“Okay,” She closes the door behind her and takes a deep breath. Interacting with people should not be as difficult as it is. It’s just her neighbor and all she’s doing is asking for sugar so she can put it in her coffee. When she closes the door of her apartment she’s greeted by her cat and she immediately sets the sugar on the coffee table and picks him up. “Hi baby,” she kisses his small head and smiles when he starts purring, she sets him down and returns to the kitchen with her bag of sugar and finishes making her coffee. 

The next time she sees him is when a note is posted on her door telling her to come over. She laughs and puts her purse down on the couch before making her way over to his door. She holds the note up and waves it once he opens the door. “I thought you weren’t usually home this early?”

“I can make exceptions.” She rolls her eyes with a laugh and follows him inside of his home. She smells the food and hums with delight. “Did you make me dinner before I even got your name?”

“It’s Osamu.” He jests with her and she lets out a small laugh. He pulls the chair out for her at the kitchen island and pushes it back in once she sits down. “This is what I want for you taking the last of my sugar.”

“To be fair, you never told me when we should meet for coffee and you never asked for anything back.”

“This is what I want, you to have dinner with me.”

“I guess I can accept that.” There is a silence that settles around the room as she watches him finish cooking. His hands move with practiced ease as he goes around the kitchen. She can see his shirt is nicer than she’s used to seeing him wear. Usually he leaves the house in a black shirt that has a few stubborn stains on them although it’s clear the shirt had been washed. He usually wears pajama pants and when she asked him about it one day he said he was going to work. 

“What do you do for work?” She asks as a steaming bowl of food is placed in front of her, her mouth waters slightly and she waits for it to cool down before taking a bite. The flavors melt in her mouth and she hums as she takes another bite.

“I’m a chef, I own my own restaurant actually.” He leans against the counter on the other side and blows on his own bite of food.

“I can’t believe I’m getting this for free,” the statement causes him to laugh and he shakes his head.

“Come by the shop anytime and I’ll set something aside for you.” 

“Aww come on, you can’t show blatant favoritism like that,” she teases and she can feel the smile etch itself onto her face. 

“It’s my restaurant, or you can just come over here. Anytime really.”

“I’ll have to take you up on the offer,” they eat dinner in silence and just as she puts her shoes back on to leave the apartment he stops her. 

“You can stay a little longer if you want, it’s barely dark out.”

“If you insist,” she kicks her shoes off once more and sits on the couch with him. By the end of the movie his arm has found it’s way around her shoulder and her head found its way to his chest. They stay like that even after the credits roll, too scared to move in case the moment ends. She ends up being the first to move as she feels a cramp in her foot. “I suppose I should go home.”

He feels disappointment settle in his chest as he helps her up and walks her to the door. “See you soon?”

“I guess,” she teases and he doesn’t go back into his home until he hears her door lock. 

Over the next few months she’s visited him at the restaurant on days she had computer work. She always pays, and he conveniently cleans tables around her as an excuse to talk but he refuses to say it although they both know it. 

Within six months she feels closer to him than she has to anyone in a long time. She has a coat at his apartment and a toothbrush incase she leaves from his house for work instead of her own. Her table at Onigiri Miya is always clean and empty even during a lunch rush. Both of their friends at frustrated as they refuse to say. 

When she gets home from work she finds a note on her day reminiscent of when they first started doing whatever you want to call what they’re doing. She pulls out her key ring and unlocks his apartment, the lighting is lower than usual and she follows the noises to the kitchen and sets her bag down on the couch. “And what’s all this?” She says behind a poorly contained smile. 

“You aren’t supposed to be here yet,” he glares jokingly at her and turns around with a wooden spoon still in his hand. There are heart shaped ceramic containers on the table with candles under them and pieces of fruit cut and displayed on his nice plates. “Close your eyes and pretend you didn’t see this yet.” She laughs but goes along with it as she sits down at a seat. She can feel a hat be placed on her head and can feel his lips press gently against the skin on her forehead. 

“You’re not sneaky you know.”

“I know.” She hears more pots and pans clash as he rummages with things, hears the clinks of the ceramic against the table and then hears the sound of his chair scraping against the wood. She knows there’s a scratch on the wood from the metal of the chair scraping against it so often. “Okay, you can open you eyes.”

“Do I need to ask what all this is for?” She looks around at the fondue set up with a smile as her chin rests in her hand.

“It’s for your birthday, okay, I admit it.”

“Thank you.”

“Happy birthday darling,” his hand reaches out and skewers a piece of fruit before dipping it in the cheese and extending it out to her. She sighs happily as the taste hits her tongue and she can’t help but shake her head.

“Did you call off work today?”

“Possibly, I’m sure everything is fine. Let’s not talk about work.”

They sit at the table occasionally feeding each other bits of food and Osamu is grateful to his past self for putting down a discardable tablecloth under the food. There’s bits of cheese when he takes it off the table and the dishes sit in the sink when they make it over to the couch to enjoy the rest of their evening.

They don’t need to say what they mean to each other, it’s evident in the way the spare key jingles on her key ring and in the way that there are heart shaped dishes with the price tags still on the bottom in the sink. Love isn’t always something that needs to be said.

taglist (gen, fill out this form) @cheriisae @cherrysurf @hiraethwa @hatsukeii @szyvrue @darthferbert @localgaytrainwreck

this is for the very special, very lovely @solzscribblez as it is their birthday today <33 I hope you're having a wonderful birthday darling and that it's filled with all of your birthday wishes coming true and that you've gotten time to relax and enjoy yourself. I love you and hope you're doing well darling <3

[qwordavoider]

Parting Waves

Here is a snippet of chapter 3 which is now posted on ao3. Thank you all so much for enjoying this as much as I am enjoying writing it!

He pulled into the parking lot and noticed that Evan’s jeep was already there. As Tommy walked in, he scanned the crowded bar looking for him. His eyes eventually landed on a very tired-looking Evan saving room for everyone at a booth in the back corner. The bags under his eyes were worse than they were the last time Tommy had seen him. Evan was staring off into the distance with a haunted look on his face that Tommy had seen in more than a few soldiers during his time in the army. The second Evan saw him it was like a switch flipped and he was his usual excited self. Tommy’s heart clenched at the thought of that being a habit for Evan and made his way over to the table. 

“Hey, Tommy,” Evan smiled at him.

“Hi, Evan,” Tommy said softly as he noticed the other man gulp a little bit at the use of his name. 

“I haven’t ordered any drinks since no one was here yet but feel free to order something. The first round will be on me tonight,” the words rapidly tumbling out of Evan’s mouth.

“I think I’ll just wait for everyone else to get here.” Tommy paused, before convincing himself to continue. “How are you doing?”

“Good, my certification classes are still going really well and I finally have figured out a time to talk to Bobby alone. Athena invited me to their place for dinner tomorrow night, so hopefully I’ll get some answers soon.” Buck said. 

That wasn’t what Tommy had meant when he asked the question, but before he could pry further, Howie and Hen walked in.

tags (reblog or comment if you want to be added): @consulting-goddess-of-deductions @sensitivescream @inawickedlittletown @walkedthroughfires @cannibalhellhound @fenrirscarsback @nochance-noway @meltedredweasels @moonydanny @thestrangestthlng @the-little-red-queen @sagahaft @tommy-loves-evan @deansmilo @fierybuck @manifestingchaoticvibes @javanicko @chococara25 @911coded @911-is-my-emergency @harmonic-intervention @teabroomsandbooks @comeon-intothemadhouse @sweaters-and-silly @magdad @n1kkii @nephilimeq @partofthelouniverse @xoxo-jnh-xoxo @angelus-bellator @sleepy-lazy-loser @sassybeautydiysports

[rilowizardshaddow]

Tomarry tag you're it WIP folder game!

The person who tag me was @oldangryslytherin , the prompt she gave me was Stalker/Stalker.

After being tagged, you enter in contact with the person who tagged you and receive a prompt

Stalker/Stalker

I spiced up a little bit. This is a Stalker/Murder Stalker, Student/Professor au. Hope you like it

The first time Harry saw Tom, it was the tenth of february in twenty twenty-four at the university where Harry studied. Tom was heading out of the university campus, looking at his clock as if he was late for something.

Harry couldn’t help but look–Tom was beautiful.

He started attending each of Tom's classes, just to catch a glimpse of him. The way Tom lectured, wet his lips after talking for minutes about subjects Harry didn’t care about, ran his fingers through his hair, walked through the halls, the perfume he wore, the way he spoke softly, the smiles–all of it. Harry was sure these actions were meant for him. How could they not be?

The building where Tom taught was far from Harry's usual path, but he couldn’t stop himself from going to Tom’s classes. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering about Tom's life. Where did he live? What did he do in his free time? Who did he talk to? Did he have a lover? Did he bring someone home? Harry was consumed by thoughts of Tom. Somehow, he felt they were meant to be. Of course they were.

Tom liked the same things as Harry–the same music, the same series, the same movies, the same sport, they even shared favorite meals. They were perfect for each other.

From every picture Harry secretly took of Tom, he wrote down where it was taken. For everyone who interacted with Tom, Harry described the interaction.

He wanted to know everything about Tom, even in the smallest details, even the things that didn't matter.

But that was no longer enough. Harry because want it all. Everything Tom can give him, and everything he would never be able to. He want Tom every moment, in every sense that wanting could mean. He wants Tom in the literary and carnal sense, he wants to know what Tom's touch is like, what the heat of his skin is like, what his lips feel like.

He wants Tom to have no choice but to be his, and when Tom finally was, he would realize they were meant to be together.

Friday, the nineteenth of may, twenty twenty-three. That was the first time Tom saw Harry. It was at a pub. Harry was mixing extremely complicated drinks for people who didn’t seem grateful enough. Even though Harry was kind to everyone, even those who didn’t deserve it, Tom could see how much he despised all of them—just like him.

Tom started to go to the pub every day Harry worked. One day, he saw Harry laughing and celebrating something with his friends. Tom remembered thinking how beautiful Harry’s smile was and how great he looked. That was until a woman, not much younger than Harry himself, sat on Harry's lap.

Tom saw not only red; he saw carmine.

For Tom, hate wasn’t foreign. It was well known—something that burned inside of him since he was young. Hatred was the first feeling he ever remembered feeling. And it was hatred that drove him to keep stabbing that redhead on her way home. He took her belongings, her money, and threw it all into a river, since no one would need them now.

He went to her funeral, hoping to see Harry there, since he wasn’t going to the pub anymore. The funeral was full. Fuller than he thought his own mother’s funeral had been. The whole city was there. The death of that redhead made her a martyr for the city. There were more police around, and people were definitely more cautious. They became scared of dying while trying to escape from an assault.

There were many sad faces, and there was Harry. Harry crying was as beautiful as Harry smiling.

For a month, that was the only thing people talked about. For a month, Tom didn’t see Harry at the pub. And when that month ended, they locked up someone for her murder—a crackhead too high to know anything. After that, things went back to normal.

Harry wasn���t as cheerful as before, but Tom thought he was charming anyway. Slowly, Tom’s routine became stable again. That was until Harry appeared at the pub wearing his university jumper. Written in big red and yellow letters was: “Potter Rugby Captain, University of Hogwarts.”

That sparked something inside of Tom. He had never tried to look for Harry outside the pub, but now, he was eager to. He wanted to track Harry’s every movement.

It wasn’t hard to get the position as a biochemistry professor at Hogwarts, especially after the previous professor’s disappearance. Tom always looked for Harry in the halls and on campus, but he was never lucky enough to find him. Occasionally, though, he would discreetly watch Harry play rugby, and when asked, he would simply say he liked the sport.

Tom hadn’t anticipated how his schedule would be, so seeing Harry at the pub had become impossible. But he wasn’t angry or sad, because he saw Harry in every class he lectured. Harry was always looking at him, seemingly unable to focus on anything else.

And every time Tom’s eyes found Harry’s, he was certain: they were made for each other.

That was it!

I'm sorry for any grammatical mistakes 😫🤞

@a-bored-idiot Tag your it, now it's your turn to make a Wip!

[sleepymccoy]

It's an emergency!

I'm going to a Robbie Burns night tomorrow and no poetry is resonating with me. I need to read something out but I'm not fucking vibing it

I am looking for recs but! Please understand I don't really like poetry. This is a thing my family do and I love them and so I struggle every year to find a fucking poem to read. I usually find something on tumblr through the year that isn't boring as bat shit and read that out. But not this year

Previous faves have been;

I stepped on a plum as i got out of the car

Two headed calf

I lik the bred

One I want to read is that one from the person living with Alzheimer's but I cry when I read it out loud so that's out

Imma go through my tag again in case something pops up I missed the other night, but if you have a rec please feel free to send it

Bear in mind it's read out loud and I don't like doing it, so nothing long please

[adumbratrapedme]

BABY BUMP | teen pregnancy series pt.2

Synopsis. after revealing your pregnancy to your boyfriend (or after your girlfriend did) a few weeks passed and you finally realize the baby bump is here o.o

characters(all separated): Kiyoko, Yachi, Sugawara wc.idk god | genre. pure fluff !|cw/tags. fluff, teen pregnancy, baby bumps. teen pregnancy series masterlist here!

important ! i'll post something else later too, stay tuned <3

Yachi

It was a rare free afternoon, and you and Yachi had decided to visit the park near her house. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a quiet place with a small pond and a walking trail. You often came here to sit on the grass, watch the ducks, and tease Yachi until she turned red.

Today, the winter chill was just starting to lift, and Yachi had opted for a light cardigan over her dress. You noticed her fidgeting with the buttons more than usual, but didn’t think much of it.

“Y/N, do you think… ducks get jealous of swans?” she asked out of the blue, her voice soft.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Jealous? Of what? Swans just float around acting all dramatic.”

She giggled, her usual shy laugh that made your heart swell. “Maybe they’re jealous of the attention swans get. Like… swans are just bigger ducks with an attitude.”

“Swans are basically the Tsukishima of birds,” you joked.

That earned you a louder laugh, and for a moment, everything felt perfect. As you leaned back on the grass, Yachi moved to sit cross-legged beside you. She adjusted her dress, tugging it down as she leaned forward slightly. That’s when you saw it.

The fabric of her dress stretched just enough to reveal a small, rounded curve at her stomach.

You blinked, your mind racing. Had it always been there? Were you imagining things?

“Yachi…” you said cautiously, sitting up.

She paused mid-laugh, her expression shifting. “Yeah?”

Your eyes flicked to her stomach, and you saw the realization dawn on her face. She immediately crossed her arms over her middle, her face turning bright red.

“D-Don’t look!” she squeaked, her voice high-pitched.

“is that—”

“It’s nothing!” she blurted, scrambling to her feet. But in her haste, she stumbled, and you instinctively reached out to steady her.

“Hey, hey, calm down!” you said, gently holding her by the arms.

Her eyes welled up with tears, and she let out a shaky breath. “I-I was hoping you wouldn’t notice yet…”

Your heart ached at how vulnerable she sounded. “you don’t have to hide this from me,” you said softly.

She sniffled, looking down at the grass. “I didn’t want you to freak out. I-I don’t even know what I’m doing, and—”

“Neither do I,” you interrupted, giving her a small, reassuring smile. “But we can always figure it out.”

Her tearful eyes met yours, and she searched your face for any sign of hesitation. When she found none, she let out a shaky laugh. “I-I was so scared you’d be mad…”

“Mad? Yachi, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I could never be mad at you, besidesm this is something common, it wouldnt be normal for me to be mad.” you chuckled

She bit her lip, her hands resting protectively over her belly. “It’s just… more real you know? I can feel it, and now you can see it too, and…”

You stepped closer, placing a hand gently over hers. “It’s real, yeah. But that doesn’t mean it’s bad. It just means we’ve got a lot to figure out. And we will.”

Her lip trembled, but then she smiled—a soft, genuine smile that made your heart skip a beat. “Thank you, Y/N. For… for being you.”

You chuckled, pulling her into a hug. “And thank you for being you, Yachi. Even if you think ducks get jealous of swans.”

She laughed through her tears, burying her face in your shoulder. And as you held her, the future felt a little less scary.

Kiyoko

It was a rare free afternoon, and Y/N had invited Kiyoko over to study. Or at least, that had been the plan.

Instead, both of you were sitting cross-legged on the floor of ur room, surrounded by open textbooks, a half-eaten bag of chips, and a volleyball that you had been mindlessly tossing in the air. Kiyoko was leaning back against the bed, flipping through her notes with her usual focus, while you... failed miserably to concentrate.

“You’re supposed to be studying,” Kiyoko said without looking up, her voice as calm as ever.

“I am,” you protested, though your attention was clearly on her.

She gave you a sidelong glance, her eyebrow raised. “You’ve been staring at me for the past ten minutes.”

“No, I haven’t,”you said quickly, your face heating.You adjusted the volleyball in your hands, trying to play it cool.

Kiyoko sighed and closed her notebook. “What is it?”

you hesitated a little bit, not sure if you should say anything. “Uh… I just… Your shirt looks tighter.”

Kiyoko blinked, her head tilting slightly. “What?”

“Not in a bad way!” you correctted quickly, waving his hands. “I just mean… like, your stomach. It looks, uh…” you gestured vaguely, words failing you.

For a moment, Kiyoko just stared at you, her calm demeanor unreadable. Then, as if realizing something, she looked down at herself. She placed her hand over her midsection, pressing lightly as if to confirm what he’d said.

Her fingers lingered there for a moment before she spoke. “I guess it’s starting to show,” she said softly, her voice quieter than usual.

You swallowed hard,heart thudding in your chest. “Does that… freak you out?”

Kiyoko shook her head, her expression thoughtful. “Not really. I’ve been expecting it. But seeing it is… different.”

You scooted closer, sitting beside her. “It’s kind of… cool, though. Isn’t it?”

She glanced at him, her lips curving into the faintest smile. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice warm. “I mean, it’s proof that it’s happening.”

Kiyoko’s gaze softened, and for a moment, she let her guard down completely. “It’s scary sometimes,” she admitted. “But… I think it’s okay.”

You reached out hesitantly, your hand hovering over hers. “Can I…?”

Kiyoko nodded, and you placed the hand gently over hers, feeling the faintest curve beneath her sweater. Your heart swelled, a mix of awe and nervousness washing over him.

“I’ll be here,” you said, his voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside him. “No matter what."

Kiyoko closed her eyes, leaning her head lightly against your shoulder. “You’re still an idiot sometimes, you know.”

“Yeah,” you said with a grin, “but I’m your idiot.”

She let out a soft laugh, the kind that she rarely let anyone hear. And in that moment, surrounded by textbooks and uncertainty, she had no clue what you were doing—but at least, she wouldn't be alone.

Sugawara

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft golden light across the room as Sugawara sat beside you. The day had started like any other, but now there was something different.

You had just finished your morning routine, slipping on your school uniform, but as you stood in front of the mirror, something caught your attention. Your hand instinctively went to your stomach, where you could faintly notice a small bump. It wasn't much, barely noticeable to anyone else, but to you, it felt like the world was shifting beneath you.

Sugawara, who had been tying his shoes at the foot of the bed, noticed you standing still, staring at your reflection in silence. He rose to his feet, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced with concern. "Y/N?" he asked softly.

You turned to him, forcing a smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "Koushi... I think it's starting to show."

He blinked, his eyes widening for a moment as he processed what you had said. Without hesitation, he stepped toward you, closing the distance between you with a gentle, almost cautious step. His fingers brushed against the fabric of your shirt, resting just above your stomach. He stared at the faint curve, his expression softening with a mixture of awe and uncertainty.

"You’re right," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... growing."

You looked down, your heart racing. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. What if I can't do this? What if I can’t handle being pregnant and finishing school at the same time?”

Sugawara gently cupped your face, lifting your gaze to meet his. His expression was steady, unwavering, as if trying to anchor you in the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. "We’re going to get through this, Y/N. Together," he said firmly. “Look at me.”

You met his eyes, and in them, you saw the same determination that had always been there—the same boy who, despite everything, always found a way to take on the impossible.

He took your hand, placing it against the small bump. "This... this little one is ours. And we’re going to be okay. I’m not going anywhere. We’ll figure it out, one step at a time. Whether it's school, volleyball, or... being parents, we’ll do it together."

A tear slipped down your cheek as you felt the weight of his words. "I’m scared," you whispered.

Sugawara reached up, brushing away your tear with his thumb. "Me too. But we’ll figure it out. Honey, and hey" he added, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We’re not the only ones who’ve been through this. We’ve got people we can lean on."

You nodded, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. The future still seemed uncertain, but with him by your side, it felt like maybe—just maybe—you could handle it.

"Thank you," you whispered, giving him a watery smile.

Sugawara leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Anytime, darling "

As the two of you stood there, the weight of the moment sinking in, you knew life was going to be different from now on. But with Sugawara, you also knew it would be full of love, support, and the promise that no matter what came next, you wouldn’t face it alone.

TAGLIST:

@chilichopsticks @dreadnoughtus101 @starykari @staygoldsquatchling02

if you want to be part of the taglist you can always DM me or coment! <3 tysm for ur support guysehehrbe

[ieppiq]

I am even more interested and intrigued by your Obsidian Sapphires WIP after reading your answers. Thank you for tagging me! Appreciate it, lots. Will answer for my main WIP, IRIS' L from the B/T Tetralogy WIP.

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

Specifically talking about IRIS' L and its' theme of Growth: the main lesson shall be Owning Your Decisions And Learning Accountability. I chose this lesson because it is something my teenhood therapist brought up about little me and I was utterly confused, until I grew a little older and realized many peeps (me, included) are not taught the true extent of this basic lesson. It's usually - own up to your mistakes, decisions have consequences but never really went to in depth. So, I decided to try to portray the toxicity of preteens/teens and what they could consider to better their mental health and lives.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

There are two separate worldbuildings and lore. Again, specifically speaking of Iris: my main inspirations for the worldbuilding were SVTFOE (animated show) and Transformers 4 (movie).

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

I think I basically answered this in the first question but I'll rephrase the answer to the later half of the ask. Firstly, my MC - Iris - is trying to maintain (restrain) her relationships while fully embracing escapism. A juggle. Lastly, I do not have a particular goal for Iris, other than to showcase an example of the plot's lessons and themes. I do want to give seventh grade me some grace with a part of her arc, though.

How many chapters is your story going to have?

A number of Stages (Acts), twenty-seven chapters with parts.

Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original Content! I plan to self-publish it! The platforms will be revealed when the electronic release happens. (But you can also figure them out if you stalk my socials a little bit. Uhhh. Maybe don't? Surprises are fun).

When did you start writing?

Properly? Seven years ago.

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Hm, this is some advice I've given and here is some writer encourangement I wrote down one time. The writers I follow are incredibly chill, cool, very inspiring and/or kind af (a couple are irl friends but they do not have writer socials). I'll write down the ones I follow from the main account (you're here): @/moonlit-sunflower-books, @/ellierenae, @/orange-is-the-happiest-colour, @/ashen-crest, @/wayfaringauthorofficial, @/coffeeandcalligraphy, @/pens-swords-stuff, @/writer-candy, @/ryns-ramblings, @/writing-with-olive, @/fleetingfictions, @/duskyrapunzel, @/istabraq01, @/helenasurvives, @/riaisntwriting, @athenswrites, @/writingamongther0ses, @/naps-tries-writing, @/orangeismorethanacolour, @/kspendragon, @alecsaltylightwood, @/cianawrites, @myheartgoesuwus, @/misswriteress, @/kakiross, @/endless-plotter, @/soupy8lowfishow, @/olivescales3, @/oros-ash3s, @/aalinaaaaa, @/pluttskutt, @/dustylovelyrun, @/abalonetea, @/bethanywritesbooks, @thinkdrinkandsink, @/talesofsorrowandofruin, @/cath-crtic, @/ssnapsaurus, @/ettawritesnstudies, @/tragicbackstoryenjoyer, @/writingandlove, @/amongwriters-archive, @septemberliterature, @the-violet-writer, @mjmnorwood, @bebewrites, @/metaphors-and-melodrama, @owlfly, @/surroundedbypearls, @/harinawa, @yukina-chan, @costi-the-sage. Some are inactive or straight up turned ghosts. And there may be some I missed, sorry.

Open Tag! But also random tagging (feel free to ignore): @olivescales3 , @moremysteriesthantragedies , @autumnalwalker , @cheerfulmelancholies , @drowsy-quill , @ellierenae , @dustylovelyrun , @pluttskutt , @oros-ash3s and @ryns-ramblings .

Author Ask Tag

Thank you to @tildeathiwillwrite for the tag <333

—

What is the main lesson of your story? Why did you choose it?

In reference to Obsidian Sapphires (because that’s the wip whose theme and message I’ve fleshed out the most), the core lesson would be to not let ambitions of grandeur, perfection, divinity, etc derail you from the things you have/the people you love, and that even the most seemingly perfect solutions can still cause tragedy. The central identity of Obsidian Sapphires was always in relation to family, personal identity and the Allaitri Chalice was central to Eshani’s goals even from the first ever draft. This draft focuses on the Chalice and its ramifications as a result of it being openly used in society.

What did you use as inspiration for your worldbuilding?

A lot of it is inspired by my perspective, my experiences, etc. It draws heavily on certain aspects of my home country, and also some of my own thoughts too. For instance, Helindians being maestros at non-alcoholic fruity drinks derived from my own wish fulfillment! I don’t drink, I’ve never had a drop of alcohol in my life.

It also contains a lot of nature, because it’s a direct contrast to how sterile and corporate the real-world is and I think it really helps make the world very aesthetic, very alluring, somewhere that people would get sucked into and never want to leave. A faerie-style honey trap, if you will.

I'm going to give a specific mention of Morilaste, for it takes a certain amount of its inspiration from Italian art and history. This really became apparent after my visit to Milan and Venice, because I was in awe at the art and architecture. The scale, the details, the artistry, everything. Absolutely stunning. I find that when I'm in or near places like cathedrals and other highly grand, artistic structures, it feels otherworldly. I am awestruck that people made these, that people put funding, time and effort into these grand structures, and we get to benefit from the fruits of their artistry hundreds and thousands of years later. (This is why minimalistic, corporate-hellscape buildings of the modern age break my heart)

And it's that sense of otherworldliness that I want to evoke when designing Morilaste, because I want it to capture the aura of divinity that the court's namesake sought for. I want to use the sheer scale of it to encapsulate just how much of a beautiful, deadly trap it is, and how it contrasts and complements the way ordinary Helindians perceive it from the outside, with basically nothing but rumours and stories to rely on.

What is your MC trying to achieve, and what are you, the writer, trying to achieve with them? Do you want to inspire others, teach forgiveness or help the reader grow as a person?

Alycja’s trying to prove herself to others, reclaim her innocence in the face of those trying to misconstrue her motives. She wants to be loved, she wants to be admired, and her ordeal is coming at a time when she’s at the start of her teenage years, a pivotal time when she is beginning to flesh out her own identity separate from her identity as part of her family. Her arc is one of the most prominent ones in terms of the theme, because her choices threaten a touch of tragedy almost no matter which path she takes. In a sense, it’s a warning to not let others take advantage of you, and also an affirmation that there is a lot of power in one’s own decisions, even in the face of things that are outside of one’s control.

As for Eshani, she’s also trying to prove herself, but more to repair relations with the people she cares about. She knows what she wants, but her arc is about actually confronting the reality of her desires, and her realising that she wasn’t ready yet. This occurs all while balancing the responsibilities of her current place in life, trying to claw her way out without betraying so many people. She carries a lot of guilt, and the message I want to portray through her endeavour is that the past is the past, it cannot be changed, but the next best thing is to do something now, in the present. Dwelling on what could’ve been is what sets her back, and I look forward to the part where her character development fully clicks into place, I think it’s kinda beautiful (and it fits with the theme and her goals :DDD)

How many chapters is your story going to have?

I’ve an estimate of 30, but this could easily change.

Is it fan fiction or original content? Where do you plan to post it?

Original content, planned to go on my blog :D

When did you start writing?

Wow, it’s been ten, going on eleven years at this stage!

Do you have any words of encouragement for fellow writers of writeblr? What other writers do you follow?

Don’t give up on your ideas! And especially don’t delete them. Stash them away, let them ferment, make sure they’re written down somewhere (and not just on a computer, physical notes are important too). You’ll never know when your ideas may germinate and go full circle. And even if they don’t go anywhere, there’s value even in those ideas just existing. (Side note, people love deleted scenes and snippets!)

I follow so many fantastic, talented, creative writers on here (and I know a decent amount in real life too!), that I would break the tags per post limit so many times over. For the writers that I mention here, consider yourselves tagged for this game, and also here’s an Open Tag for anyone/everyone who wants to answer these <3

@seastarblue @bardic-tales @ominous-faechild @leahnardo-da-veggie @the-ellia-west @vesanal @thebookishkiwi @jev-urisk @cljordan-imperium @ieppiq @angelfevr @gioiaalbanoart @guessillcallitart @thereadingfoz @honeybewrites @oliolioxenfreewrites @theglitchywriterboi @corinneglass @rae-butter @oros-ash3s @mundanemoongirl @scarletteflamerald @midnight-and-his-melodiverse @ceph-the-ghost-writer @flock-from-the-void @tryingtimi @outpost51 @mattresses-and-macaroni @limitlesswritingvoid @agirlandherquill @space-writes @winterandwords @finickyfelix @wintherlywords @druidx @avrablake @inkednotebook @lizardperson @ineedaplacetostay @gaslightwestern @satohqbanana @acertainmoshke @sleepyowlwrites @talesofsorrowandofruin @talesfromaurea @the-golden-comet @bi-focal12 @write-with-will @glassstardust22124 <333

[neriyon]

Fandom Peeps to Get to Know Better

Tagged by @sunnythanalan, thank you!

Three ships I like: Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian (MDZS), Matsuoka Rin/Nanase Haruka (Free!), uhhhhhhhh Geto Suguru/Gojo Satoru (Jujutsu Kaisen)

First ship ever: this is a tough one... maybe Kyoraku Shunshui/Ukitake Jushiro (Bleach) ? If not first it's at least one of the first ones.

Last song you heard: Peacock Epoch by USSS (be warned that the lyrics are mildly suggestive)

Favorite childhood storybook: uhh this is finnish only, I don't think it's ever been translated to any other languages but "Tiitiäisen satupuu" (by Kirsi Kunnas). Idk what the word for them is in english, but it basically has a collection of story like poems meant for kids. It's pretty old (wikipedia says it was published in 1956, wow), but I used to have a newer copy of it as a kid and the poems in it are really fun.

Currently reading: Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS) 4 by Mo Xiang Tong Xiu. It was my xmas gift, so I've been reading it whenever I want to feel sappy about two idiots pining

Currently watching: Spy x Family second season. I think I have 2 episodes left..?

Currently consuming: Tea (mango & lychee green tea) and these tiny bread rolls we made earlier.

Currently craving: Candy... More specifically chocolate, as I ate last of my gift chocolates yesterday :c

[rjshope]

♡♡♡

[mazken]

brush test slash rendering practice with ayem

[lucaanis]

what if i made a silly little dao-style gift guide/list for lleyth like they were an actual da companion haha. just kidding. unless... 😳

💛 LOVES gifts (Lleyth approves +10)

"Oh wow, this is... for me? Really? Oh! I... I don't even know what to say. It's lovely. I love it. Thank you."

9:44 Rialto Bay Reserve A luxury Antivan mulled wine, highly desired for it's silky texture and unusually high alcohol content. Finely aged with hints of orange peel & cloves.

Raven Feather Hairpin A handcrafted silverite hairpin fashioned in the shape of a feather.

Sea Dragon Emerald Tea A velvet pouch of dried assorted herbs and spices, this Rivaini loose-leaf tea blend is popular for it's unique aromatic taste and stress-relieving qualities. Often sold at market stalls in Llomerryn.

Artisan Journal Set An expertly crafted journal made from aged Antivan leather. Adorned with an intricate embroidered pattern and a gemstone latch. Comes with an engraved crow-feather fountain pen & purple satin bookmark.

💛 LIKES gifts (Lleyth approves +5)

"Interesting. This is for me? How thoughtful of you, thank you. I'll have to find a good place for this..."

It Was An Accident: The Auspicious Art of Botany, Bombs & Botulism An absurdly large book with resources on various alchemy recipes, ingredients, tinkering blueprints, and various "hypothetical" ways to "accidentally" kill people. Banned from the shelves of most respectable retailers.

Thing-On-A-String Well, it's certainly a thing— and on a string, no less. Some might say it resembles some kind of fuzzy worm, but any practical value it may hold is unclear.

Sketchy Charcoal Set A standard set of tools found in the repertoire of many artists. There's something a little shady about this one, though.

Preserved Snake Head The skeletal remains of a an adder snake bearing its fangs, cast in resin to prevent damage to the delicate structure. Kinda creepy.

🖤 PRANK gifts (Lleyth disapproves -5)

"Oh. That's... nice. Thanks, I suppose."

You're Not Alone: A Beginner's Guide to Sobriety A self-help book found on the shelf of a Chantry archive. For when an intervention requires a more subtle approach.

The Fifth Talon in Oil by Lalo Amicci, 9:46 An unsettlingly accurate oil painting of the Fifth Talon of the Antivan Crows. It's judgmental eyes and perpetually annoyed scowl seem to follow the viewer around the room...

💔 HATES gifts (Lleyth disapproves -10)

I... and you're giving me this because...? ...No, nevermind. Forget I said anything. I think it looks better with you, honestly. Keep it. I insist.

Halla Statue A small figurine of a Halla sculpted from Sylvanwood. There are intricate runic patterns carved into it.

Toy Aravel A simplistic miniature aravel made of wood and cloth. A children's toy commonly found among the Dalish.

[waterfallofspace]

Currently obsessed with how, sometimes, the vibrations from singing/humming can trigger a sneeze.

Thinking about a singer trying to perform with a cold, while having an allergy attack, or just outrageously sensitive for some reason. Thinking about each note tickling so bad they can barely get through a full line without ducking down with another sneeze.

Whether in the recording studio, uselessly attempting and failing to record a new song, or on stage refusing to cancel the show.

I mean, it's not like their voice is gone, they just cahh... can't make it throuuhhh... through a full line withhhout- hh'eNKShiuew!

[ahollowgrave]

Hey! I love your screenshots so much! Do you have a guide on how you take them? Which mods, if any, do you use? How do you get the camera parallel to the ground at different heights etc? Any help would be amazing. Thank you!

Hey! Thank you! I love them, as well, and it’s always lovely to hear when others do!

Unfortunately, I am not much of a technical writer so I don’t have any guides.The reality is I spend hours and hours taking screenshots and I often feel like I luck into things looking nice.

But I can give you the same tips I give to my friends who have said it’s helpful advice:

Vanilla gpose is very good! You can do a lot in it without the need for 3rd party tools and I’ve found having a good, solid understanding of how gpose works is what really rockets shots into ‘oh wow’ territory. You really just have to touch all the buttons and see what they do and how they interact with each other.

The main thing is, for re/g-shade users: If it doesn’t look good in vanilla lighting, the preset isn’t going to make it suddenly stunning.

The second thing, for everyone, is: Play. Play is very important. If you’re not having fun you’re probably not gonna love the final result. If it feels like a chore, come back to it later! Play a different game!

The third thing, for everyone, is: These are not rules, these are not laws. Just because I do something a certain way doesn’t mean it’s the ‘right’ way to do it. Your eye is what makes your art beautiful.

I'm putting the rest under a cut because this wound up being three pages without the pictures because I ramble.

The parts of vanilla gpose I touch with every shot:

Camera Position: The first slider is your field of view. For portraits I set it to 200, but I tend to fiddle with it in all other shots until I get something I like. The second slider is rotation, very helpful to get to exactly 45 degrees or 90 degrees for shots. But you should also be able to use Q and E to rotate and this is fun to get neat angles on shots! Play with it!!

Depth of Field: I’ll be honest, I turn this sucker off because Reshade has ADOF which I think is better! But, I still suggest playing with this a little bit.

Lighting settings: You have three lights, each with three levels and each able to be a unique color. USE THEM. Find lighting objects in your setting that you can use to base the colors and directions off of. Is the moon full and above? Use a pale blue light as a rim light. 3a. Also, highly recommend looking at RL photography lighting set ups. This has been the most helpful. You can do a lot with three lights!!!!! 3b. Typically, I am mostly using two lights at type 1 or type 2. Sometimes I’ll use a third light, or that type 3 lighting, but it depends heavily upon the vibes. 3c. On this page there is ‘Character Lighting’ this makes your character brighter. I don’t use this at all because it tends to wash out shadows and shadows are an important part of lighting. I DO suggest that YOU use this to see how it works! A little is a lot, you know? 3d. THE MAIN THING IS TO PLAY WITH IT. Get weird with the lighting. Do really intense close up lights! Do funky colors! Cover them in bi lighting!!!!

Lighting Round Two: The one thing that my friends have said is the most helpful is telling them to use the Manual Birghtness Adjustment. This is on the general tab, not with your other lighting settings (circled in red). This controls the light of the WHOLE setting, including the brightness of your three lights. This is what really makes me go OH WOW. Turn it on, wiggle it around, be amazed. (Say it with me: Play with it!)

ADJUST YOUR LIGHTING.

Vanilla Gpose has a Motion Settings tab. This is what I use for my expressions but also a lot of ‘poses’ are just well captured emotes. A lot of this tab should be self explanatory.

The Eyes: The first eye has your subject turn to face the camera. You can have them look in a direction, turn it off, and freely move your camera around. The second eye is eye tracking. This is your friend! The head will stay stationary and the eyes will follow the camera.

Movement: Walk, run, sprint. Forward, left, right, back. Pause, play, reset.

Lip Movements: This, in junction with expression emotes, is very handy! Type 1 is minimal, type 3 is a lot more head movement. Pause, play, reset buttons.

Emotes: You already know what I’m gonna say. PLAY WITH THIS. Almost every emote can have an expression emote overlaid it and have lip movement added.

A personal favorite is /aback, /beam, lip movement 2, eye tracking.

Now. When you enter Gpose your subject is gonna be doing the animation they were last doing. To stop this, ground sit and stand before you enter gpose to start with a clean slate. However, this is also how you can get cool action shots. Using a dummy you can use an attack, reset the dummy, and enter gpose and your subject will be flailing wildly.

Some of the emotes and actions can move very quickly! To move things frame by frame we’re going to use the Disable/Enable Motion buttons. You have two of these at the top of the gpose settings.

Disable/Enable All Motion - This will pause or start all the motion of all the targets in your gpose! My Keybinding for this is 1 and I think this is the default for PC users. Disable/Enable Target Motion - This will pause or start the motion of your current target. (Tab cycles through the characters caught in your gpose.) My Keybinding for this is 2 and I think this is the default for PC users.

To go frame by frame by frame through an emote or action you’re going to freeze the character (1) and then, rapidly, you’re going to hit 1 then 2. (1 2 1 2 1 2 1 2) this unfreezes your subject and then refreezes them. Be mindful of your eye tracking and camera! One last thing: Take a LOT of shots. From all sorts of angles, with all sorts of lighting, with different expression. For every 1 screenshot I post there are about a 100 others that I didn't like as much.

Whew, okay, I think that covers the stuff I tell my friends. Sorry this got kinda long and it might be confusing because, again, I am no technical writer!

Now, I do use 3rd party tools but I’m only comfortable talking about those off anon! Other than Reshade. I understand social anxiety might keep folks from asking directly but I am a nervous person myself and just do not feel comfy talking about that stuff so publicly. But I try to be helpful where and when I can!

Apologies, anon, if this isn’t what you were hoping for in a reply but if anyone else reads this maybe they’ll learn a new trick or idea of idk something!!!

If you read the all thing that's fucking WILD and the only reward I have for you is my love !!

[burningcomputerpersona]

ahhhhhhhh guess who made the mistake of getting a haircut

[bunnyboy-juice]

honestly. being able to be honest with my loved ones about when i am Mentally Unwell but also Dont Want To Talk About It has done wonders for my mental health