#but writers will write what they want regardless

[lee-v5x]

I want to cry but I can’t. It’s probably because most of them were wasted on that one (last) episode. I still love them either way (I’M SO SORRY EIJI)

him and hym

[myownwholewildworld]

12. MORNING DEW

chapter 11 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 13 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: you and joel need to discuss what the future might look like for the both of you. whether that's together or on your own. a/n: HI! please accept my apologies, i know it's been like a month since i last updated this series. but fret not, here's chapter 12! hope you guys like it. as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, they keep us writers well fed and motivated! take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. fluff, some angsty hurt/comfort. smut because i got my period halfway through writing this. fingering. handjob. oral (m!receiving). edging. soft dom/sub dynamics. brief references to attempted suicide and attempted SA. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n.  joel’s and reader’s pov. and a special guest’s pov too 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~6.5k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

It never seemed to be the proper time to speak to you, Joel thought. Ever since his fuckup last night, he had struggled to find the words, to explain what his thought process was. A few hours ago, he had talked himself into ripping off the plaster and apologise to you, but when he called your name and you turned around with a composed expression, he froze in place.

He didn’t want to lose you too. Joel was afraid he would say something wrong again that would push you even further away from him. And then he would truly be alone, all because of his own actions, his own words. That fear clamped around his throat, preventing him from saying anything. From reaching out.

It was stupid, really. He knew that. Knew you were expecting him to say something, anything. Your blank expression was just a façade, a wall you had built around your heart so he wouldn’t hurt you anymore.

Joel hated himself for it, for your concealed hurt. Hated he had broken that trust between you two and made you feel like he was no longer on your side. He was, always had been, always would be. But he had let fear come between you, an abyss so vast he didn’t think it was salvable. It had to be though ― couldn’t be any other way.

The possibility of being a father again laid in front of him like a path full of dangers. Joel understood how much he could lose, because he had already lost Sarah. How suffocating that experience had been ― still was, every single fucking day.

He was frightened to go through it all over again. Having to hug another dead child of his; having to witness the light flicker away from her eyes. Sarah had been his everything ― his hope, his pride, the love of his life, the reason he would wake up in the morning to go to work, counting his blessings. And it didn’t matter in the slightest how good she was ― she was taken regardless. This world was cruel and unjust and greedy.

But there was also a sliver of hope, of dull excitement, shimmering underneath. One he wouldn’t allow himself to feel.

He still felt like a failure of a father who could not protect his baby girl when she needed him most. That emotional baggage would forever be with him. And he wanted it that way, because it meant he still remembered. This grief he carried was a reminder of the love he held. And he hoped it stayed with him, that she would stay with him.

Joel could still vividly remember digging with bare nails the grave Tommy had prepared for her. Elbow’s deep in the dirt, his fingers reaching for her as thick tears blurred his vision. The wails ripping his lungs apart, leaving his throat raw and tender. And Tommy hugging him from the back, arms clamped around his shoulders ― crying, begging him to stop.

“Little Sarah is resting now.”

“Let her be, Joel.”

“Stop unburying her, dammit!”

“I’m sorry, truly sorry. God I can’t―”

“She’s at peace now, Joel. No more suffering.”

Tommy’s slurry voice still filled his ears. His little brother had tried his best to comfort him, but at that moment in time, Joel had been too blinded by the gut-wrenching pain, the unbearable loss. He never really thanked Tommy for that. Never thanked you for stopping him from killing himself either.

Being an ass to the people he loved, apparently, was his only strength. Just like he had been with you when you needed him most.

Joel watched you as you struggled to unzip your sleeping bag, the soft material catching on the serrated teeth. You yanked the pull, almost snapping it from the slider, mumbling something to yourself.

He covered your tiny hand with a broad one of his, lightly squeezing your fingers.

“Let me help,” he muttered as you leaned back away from him.

Your subtle physical rejection stung, but he knew he deserved it. His hurt was nothing in comparison to yours.

Letting go of the bag, you faked looking for something in your backpack, avoiding his eyes when they searched for yours. Joel felt that the void between you only grew and grew, like darkness gaining ground to the light outside.

Could he mend your relationship? Your trust? Your love?

With careful hands, Joel managed to release the pinch on the fabric and tested that the zipper worked how it should do. When he glanced up at you, handing over the sleeping bag, Joel caught the rawness in your eyes, the slight dampness clinging to your eyelashes like morning dew on a petal at dawn.

It was now or never. He was hurting from seeing you hurt. Couldn’t take it any longer, he just had to say something, apologise to you. Ask to start the conversation all over again. One more second of this and he would lose his goddamn mind.

“Sweetheart, I―,” he managed to say out loud.

“I’m tired, Joel,” you quickly interrupted him. “Just wanna go to bed now, if you don’t mind.”

Your words were like a sobering, cold shower after a few beers ― stopped him right in his tracks before he could even begin to express what he wanted to say. Slightly shocked, Joel watched you fiddling around with your sleeping bag before you got inside it and turned around, facing away from him.

His slack jaw was soon gritting. But that brief anger quickly shimmered away when reality started to set in.

Perhaps he had misread the whole situation; perhaps you were not waiting on him to talk.

Perhaps you were past that ― past him, his bullshit and his doubts.

Perhaps your relationship was truly beyond salvation.

He paled in the face of such possibility, his hands shaking as they gripped his own sleeping bag.

Joel was up almost all night, eyes transfixed on you as his brain worked out all scenarios.

You faked falling asleep, but rest evaded you for hours until you finally gave in to exhaustion. Didn’t last long though, because a couple of hours later, you were, once again, wide awake.

The whole situation with Joel was overwhelming. You had hoped he would come to the car as soon as you left him behind, but he didn’t. Then that night you waited for him to say something, anything, and yet again, he didn’t. Not a fucking word when you both woke up this morning either, except for your name falling from his lips like a regretted whisper. Then complete radio silence and nothing else.

The silence treatment he had given you today was unbearable. Even if your doubts had lingered, pushing you to postpone the inevitable, deep inside you had hoped his reaction would be different. Shocked, yes, but then he would be… perhaps not happy, but at least a bit more excited? And after the shock had worn off, he would have soothed you, calmed you, told you everything was gonna be alright.

Maybe you had expected too much of Joel, your little delusion blinding you. After all, he had already lost Sarah. So now, in retrospect, this announcement might have unearthed bad memories, but especially regrets.

Was that it? Had you unburied his most primal fear? You had been so focused on what laid ahead, you had not stopped to consider what laid behind ― what this would mean for Joel. You had briefly contemplated he could perhaps see this as a blessing or a curse, but didn’t dwell too long on the thought, preoccupied as you were with other pressing matters.

You felt sick and it had nothing to do with pregnancy.

And then, when he had tried talking to you before going to bed, you had shut him down. But you were so tired, so mentally drained, you didn’t have an ounce of energy left to deal with a conversation like that. Because you truly didn’t know what he would say ― he wore such an impassive expression on his face, it was really difficult to tell.

You turned on the hard, creaky, wooden floor and faced Joel. One of his arms was resting on the wooden planks, extended towards you, as if he was trying to reach for you in his sleep.

You were in an abandoned cabin just outside Oswego. It was bare and completely stripped of furniture, but at least had a roof that would protect you from the cold, wet weather outside. It also had a covered chimney, but being so close to civilisation, it had to stay put out. Sleeping in the bag was not ideal, but it kept you warm.

Taking a deep breath, you then felt some sort of cushion under your neck that had not been there before you fell asleep. By touch, you realised it was one of those inflatable travel neck pillows that you had seen people use in airplanes. Frowning, you gathered Joel must have found one and tucked it under your head in your sleep.

You carefully studied Joel’s handsome, weathered face from the safety of your sleeping bag. Even in his sleep, his eyebrows were bunched together, a deep wrinkle ploughing through his skin almost permanently, giving him a worried look. His aquiline nose was buried in the fabric of his sleepsack, his long eyelashes caressing the top of his cheeks.

He would roll his eyes at you every time you called him “gorgeous” or “handsome”, but he really was. You loved to tell him, to help him see through your eyes. You knew he sometimes needed to hear it, to remind him of his own humanity. It was normal to lose sight of it in the current world you lived in.

And you loved him, the whole of him and his ghosts, even though he was a tactless prick sometimes. You had come to learn that when cornered, Joel could react like a beaten dog ― crouched back and showing teeth, ready to bite at the slightest provocation. Couldn’t blame him, even if you tried.

Feeling restless, you carefully unzipped your sleeping bag, not wanting to wake Joel up, and put your boots on. God knew you both needed some rest. Silently you stood up and stretched your back and arms, then one hand mindlessly stroked your belly. It wasn’t swollen at all, but the idea of a life growing inside you sat snugly in the back of your mind.

“What are we going to do, little one?” you whispered to yourself before grabbing your coat.

Needing some fresh air, you walked outside in the middle of the freezing night. It had been snowing, because there were at least three inches of white fluff blanketing the ground. Which meant the car battery could quickly drain and leave you stranded, so you went to check on the hidden Jeep.

Joel’s body jerked uncontrollably, one leg shaking as if he was falling off a cliff. Instantly waking up, he nervously looked around him, trying to recall where he was.

His hand patted the wooden floor in the dark, and when he located your sleeping bag, his breathing hitched at finding it empty. Then he heard the front door creaking, a sliver of moonlight coming through.

Were you leaving him in the middle of the night? Had he completely broken your trust, your relationship? Had he no chance of mending his mistake? Were you so hurt you would go without a word, without saying goodbye?

God knew he deserved it. He wasn’t cut for a relationship; he always ruined it. Should have known better than falling for you and giving in, but you were so warm, so effortless to love, so natural… How the fuck could he not? He was only human after all.

With a deafening pulse in his eardrums, he kicked the sleeping bag off as he got up with jerky, edgy motions, running towards the door to stop you from leaving him. For you he would fight, he would give you a whole motherfucking speech of why he loved you and how sorry he was. He at least had to try.

Joel swung the door open, and a frosty breeze greeted him, his skin bristled almost painfully at the feeling of frostbite.

You were walking through the snow, wrapped in your coat and with the hood on ― you looked so ethereal, your side profile bathed by the moonlight like a night fairy. Your features glowed under the lunar lustre, and he couldn’t help but fall for you even more.

Barefoot he followed you, his soles numb after a few steps through the snowy mud.

“Babe, wait,” he muttered, one hand reaching for your elbow.

You startled at his touch, and Joel didn’t know if it was rejection or that he had surprised you.

Your big, beautiful eyes widened when you saw him there. You wore a tired expression, and he knew himself the culprit.

“Where are you going?” he questioned in a whisper, heart still and lungs empty.

“I―”

“Please don’t go, don’t leave. I can do better. I’m sorry,” Joel stumbled with his words.

Had never felt this exposed as he was about to split his core in half, to undress emotionally in front of someone, allowing himself to be hurt by the only person it mattered.

But it had to be done to keep you by his side. So he did.

“I panicked. I wasn’t expecting― it didn’t even cross my mind that you… well, could be pregnant. It caught me so off guard, the news didn’t sink in. I’m sorry I reacted like a fucking idiot; I know I’ve disappointed you because of it. It’s just… ‘s hard, you know?” Joel swallowed to dissolve the dense knot forming in his throat, “I already had a shot at fatherhood, and I fucking blew it. I couldn’t protect her despite loving Sarah with all my heart, so the possibility of having to go through all that heartache again… I just, I don’t―”

Joel took in a deep, trembling breath as he unconsciously palmed his broken wristwatch, trying to soothe himself. He attempted to read your expression ― your lips pursed and eyes teary. Was he breaking your heart even further? You were about to cry, and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad one.

Anxiety was taking hold of his throat and gut, strangling him.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m fucking scared, so scared I don’t think words do it justice. But I’m also thrilled, baby, I swear I am. I owe it to you, to myself, to this baby of ours… I ain’t going nowhere. Wherever you go, I’ll follow you both,” he husked, almost breathless. “I’m sorry I said what I said. Neither of us have a choice, but even if we did… I wouldn’t change a thing. This baby is happening for a reason and whatever that is, I’m all in, come what may. I love you, I really do, and I hate myself for having hurt you like this. I just suck at expressing my feelings and―”

You placed a gentle hand on his naked forearm, which made him lose track of what he was saying. Your fingers gently squeezed his cold flesh as you took a step closer to him. Your free hand slid across his left hip, dipping under the tee shirt he was wearing, until it reached the small of his back and you pushed him towards your body.

His taut muscles visibly relaxed at your touch and hug, his lungs filling up as he drew in the deepest breath of his life. Wrapping his arms around you, he held you close to his chest, chin resting on the crown of your head.

“Joel, I wasn’t leaving,” you murmured, cheek nuzzling against him, a tentative smile lingering on your mouth.

Joel’s eyebrows knitted together. From his perspective, it was more than obvious that you were actually leaving.

“Oh? I thought―”

“I was just going to check on the car battery since it’s freezing out here,” you interrupted him, glancing up at him.

Joel pursed his lips together, then licked them nervously.

“Well, everything I said still stands. I am truly sorry, sweetheart,” he said, mouth lightly pressed on your forehead.

A deep sigh after, you took a step back, your hand travelling from his forearm to his fingers, intertwining them with yours. Your palm was so warm in comparison to his, he just realised how little clothing he had on.

“For being a man who “sucks” at expressing his feelings, dare I say you’ve just spoken like a professional orator?” you jested, a grin curling the corners of your lips. “And I am sorry for not being straightforward with you. I was afraid of how you would take the news, and, well…” you shrugged, “you can’t blame me, can you?”

Joel shook his head vehemently. He definitely couldn’t ― the proof was there for both of you to see.

“But I understand how frightening this is for you. I can’t even begin to comprehend how you must have felt when… when Sarah left us. I was so blinded by my own insecurities, I didn’t dwell for too long on how this would affect you emotionally. So I apologise and―”

“Don’t. Don’t apologise, please. That’s a pain for me to bear, you shouldn’t have to think about it.”

“But I do, Joel. I want to bear it with you, so you don’t have to do it alone. That’s the whole point of this, of us. After all, we are going to be a family now,” your voice dropped to a low hum.

A pang of nerves traversed his stomach. No, not a pang, more like… butterflies? Joel had not felt that―the purest form of ecstasy―in a long, long time. The idea of being a dad… it always called him, always felt like that was what he was meant to be, nothing else. Sarah had been the center of his world and while no one could ever change that for him, the possibility of having another child to shower with the love he had buried… it was so overwhelming it brought tears to his eyes, his breathing shallow.

“A family,” he repeated, voice raspy with emotion.

You nodded and laughed, teary eyes too.

“A family, Joel. You’re gonna be a dad,” you snickered, now sobbing.

He couldn’t help but join you, draping his arms around you to bring you against his chest.

He didn’t deserve you, your forgiveness. The second chance you were offering him, in all the senses. A second chance with you. A second chance to form a family. A second chance in life, really.

Joel cradled your flushed cheeks, tilting your face up so his mouth hovered over yours.

“I can’t believe my fucking luck, honestly. You, the mother of my child…” he didn’t finish the sentence because he would choke on his own words if so. Took a second to compose himself. “If I’m ever such a dick aga―”

“Are you planning on being a dick often, Joel Miller?” you said playfully with a cocked brow.

He laughed, feeling completely at ease.

“I hope not. But if I ever attempt to be, just kick me in the balls so I may come to my senses quicker, please,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

His thumbs caressed the apples of your cheeks before bowing down to kiss you. A slow, loving stroke of his tongue over yours and he felt everything was right again. Your sweet taste soothed him, his mind finally at ease. How you achieved that for him with the mere brush of your soft lips, he didn’t understand.

You were the one to break the kiss, pecking his lips a few times before finally taking a step back.

“Let’s go back inside, you must be freezing only with those sweatpants and a shirt.”

And with that, all the anxiety, the mental struggle, was forgotten.

Joel took your tiny hand in his broad one and led you back inside the cabin. Dried off his feet quickly before helping you out of your winterwear and settle back in in the sleeping bag ― his sleeping bag. Luckily it was big enough for the both of you.

You hugged each other, trying to get back to sleep, but both of your hearts were fluttering so hard, it was difficult to ignore the excitement.

“I’m so thrilled right now, I don’t think I can go to sleep just yet. I can’t believe this is happening,” you whispered with a beautiful grin.

Joel couldn’t help but notice how you were beaming now, how much worry you had carried the last couple of days because of him. He felt infinitely better now that the joyful spark had returned to your eyes.

Dragging his thumb across your jawline, tracing an invisible line on your soft skin, Joel tilted your face towards him, his heart swollen with love. He hadn’t felt this alive in ages.

“Neither can I,” he admitted in a rasp.

His right hand roamed your body under the sleeping bag until it found the perfect spot to rest: your belly. Joel splayed his fingers over your lower tummy protectively, wanting to shield you both from any harm.

You hovered one of your hands over his, your palm stroking the back of his hand in a light caress. It felt like such an intimate moment, a respite among all madness and darkness, that he knew he would treasure it forever. When days would become hard, he’d only have to think back to this exact moment in time ― both of you cocooned in a sleeping back, warm and loving, calm and happy.

Fuck, was he happy and grateful. It still felt like a dream, but this was real. You were real. Yes, he was fucking scared out of his mind too, but the joy he was feeling right now eclipsed everything else.

With rough lips, he coaxed yours apart, the tip of his tongue tentatively swiping your teeth so you would let him in ― the place where he felt most at home. And you happily complied with a subtle sigh. Your tongues curled around one another, your sultry taste and sweet scent overtaking all his senses.

Joel felt your hand dragging his downwards and only took him one second to catch on. Soon his fingers were buried under your panties, his hand cupping your mound possessively while his middle finger dipped in your slit ever so slightly to faintly stroke your hooded clit.

Just one stroke.

“Joel,” you cooed, and he inhaled your breathless plea.

“I know, baby,” he hummed back, gifting you with another light stroke.

Your thighs trembled around his hand, and you parted them involuntarily, your body telling him everything he needed to know.

So he obliged, his finger slipping from your clit to your crying hole, gathering the wetness on the tip to bring it back up to your sensitive nub. With languid touches, Joel paid precise attention to your bundle of nerves with his thumb, while his index and middle fingers rubbed your dripping furrow incessantly, his fingertips hitching in your entrance from time to time.

You gasped, chest heaving and back arched, when Joel finally dived those two fingers in your slick, warm entrance. He groaned at your responsiveness, your eagerness, always ready for him. He could never have enough of you; of that he was fucking sure.

Joel nipped your neck, his stubble tickling your skin, then lapped at it while the rhythm of his hand increased. He knew you loved it when he curled his fingers, stroking that heavenly spot that would drive you wild with lust.

Then he suddenly stilled and you grinded your wet pussy against his palm, desperate for release, your hips tilting underneath.

“Joel, please,” you begged in a whisper, your walls clenching around his digits.

“Please what, sweetheart?”

“I wanna come, please let me,” you pleaded with half-lidded, glassy eyes, melting under his touch.

“What a good girl, asking for permission,” he grazed your slack jaw with his bare teeth, then soothed the bite with a kiss. “No, not a good girl, a good momma, aren’t ya?” he corrected himself, his erection swelling at the thought. “Not yet, baby.”

He teased you a bit more, dragging the pleasure, letting it build and coil inside you the way he knew you liked it.

“F-fuck… Joel…” you moaned, his fingers still and deep buried inside you, your hole squeezing uncontrollably.

Your pleas worked, because soon enough Joel was fingering you relentlessly, pumping in and out of you fast ― your gushing cunt making obscene, squelching noises under the sleeping bag. Your moans grew louder as the pace between your thighs increased, your back so arched Joel feared you might break it.

“You can come now, baby,” he spoke softly, knowing you were holding back until you got his permission.

Then your walls furiously fluttered around his digits, choking and clamping and clutching. And Joel fucked you with his fingers through your orgasm, his thumb smothering your clit, applying the right amount of pressure. You keened, breathing heavy, as you came down from your climax, eyes shut and mouth agape.

Joel leaned to kiss you, his wet, pruney fingers still embedded in your leaking hole while your hand teasingly caressed his tummy, his muscles straining in anticipation.

“Feeling calmer?” he asked, the tip of his crooked nose nuzzling your ear as his fingers slid out with a pop.

“Mhmm, way calmer now,” you husked, tipping your face to trap his mouth with yours. “Let me help you relax too, gorgeous.”

A deep rumble coursed through his chest as your tiny fist dove and wrapped around his swollen girth, your thumb gently caressing the leaky head under his underwear.

He was ready just by working you, that was the power you held over him and Joel was fully aware of it. And he didn’t care one bit, he loved that you could get him hard just like that. It was lust, but it was love too; a deep, shared connection ― something he’d not felt before with anyone else.

You pumped him slow at first, your teeth scraping the skin over his Adam’s apple, then his jawline, until you hunted down his lips, swallowing his gruffy moans. Your playful hand stroked him faster, your fingers gripping harder, and he was close to losing his mind.

Then you licked his neck and nibbled his earlobe, and Joel had to summon all strength he could muster to not come there and then. You giggled at his intense reaction ― his muscles so tight he could snap at any moment, his breathing heavier and erratic.

Your hand imposed a devilish pace upon his throbbing cock, jerking him off fast and furious now, seeing how far you could take him before he broke. His balls felt tight and heavy, ready to spill his warm load on your hand.

Joel couldn’t stop groaning even if he fucking tried ― it had only been five days since the last time he fucked you, but those were too many days already. He pursed his lips together, eyebrows knitting in concentration to not come yet, while your mouth ghosted his. A few moans ended up slipping out and you breathed them in as you masturbated him with a tight grip.

And whatever cue he gave you, you knew he was close ― his orgasm imminent. Swiftly you dived your head under the sleeping bag and Joel lost sight of you. You freed his erection and a second later he felt your plump lips seal around his mushroom head.

His hands curled into tight fists, your little licks, taps and laps maddening. Then you suckled the swollen tip as if it was your personal pacifier.

“Holy fuck,” he huffed, shutting his eyes, as your wicked tongue commended him to come, your hand working his shaft dextrously.

Joel couldn’t hold it any longer. With a deep moan, he blew his sticky load in your mouth, and you drank eagerly from him. He felt your plush lips pecking his balls, then his column, and finally the tip, showing gratitude to his softening dick. Tucking his cock back into his underwear, you patted his bulge, gently, for a sweet second.

Then you popped your head out of the sleeping bag with a sinful grin, your thumb swiping across the corner of your mouth to gather a drop of his cum and guiding it back inside. Joel cupped your chin to bring your face closer to his.

“Thanks, baby. Always so thoughtful,” he joked before tasting himself on your tongue.

“Anytime,” you snickered.

You settled across his chest, warm bodies and calmer hearts, and a comfortable silence filled the room. Soon after that, you both fell into a peaceful slumber.

You woke up first, Joel’s arms draped around your shoulders in a solid hug, almost suffocating you. The first morning light filtered through the bare window, casting elongated shadows of the trees outside across the floorboards. Morning dew condensed on the windowpane, frozen like tiny, sparkly snowflakes. Some birds chirped, their melody pacifying. The whole scene was so tranquil, you didn’t want this moment to end.

Loafing about, you nuzzled Joel’s sternum, his thorax slowly rising, then coming down. His heart beat steadily too, so calming it almost lull you back to sleep. Something about Joel sleeping so profoundly made you feel at peace. Both of you had a very much needed rest after a tense couple of days.

You stroked the hairy trail down his belly button absentmindedly.

Joel grunted and stirred under you, his curved eyelashes fluttering a few times before his beautiful brown eyes stared at you. A boyish smile curled the corners of his lips before he closed his eyes again, hugging you closer. Joel buried his nose in your hair, then inhaled audibly.

“As much I’d love to stay here forever with you, I think we should get going,” you laughed, palming his chest.

He groaned, pinching the bridge of his aquiline nose. He wasn’t a morning person.

“Alright. I’ll get up just ‘cause you’re asking nicely,” he conceded, one hand reaching out of the sleeping bag to unzip it.

The cold air hit you both and you regretted your decisions, but if you wanted to find Tommy soon, you were not going to achieve that from this cabin, as idyllic as it felt to be here, in your bubble with Joel.

Half an hour later you were both up and fully awake. Joel was packing away the sleeping bags when he suddenly stopped.

“Fuck. You didn’t check on the battery last night, did you?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck.

You bit down your bottom lip and shook your head no.

“Shit. No, I didn’t. I, well― got distracted,” you replied apologetically, a nervous chuckle slipping.

“You mean I distracted you, right?” the teasing edge to his voice made you smile. “Don’t worry, love, ‘s alright. I’ll go check on it before we go into town.”

Joel brought you in for a hug, his hands lacing on the small of your back. He brushed his lips against yours in a chaste kiss and you wanted to laugh so badly, you sniggered. This man, pretending to be so decent now.

“What’s so funny?” he enquired, a cocked brow, not letting you go of his embrace just yet.

“You being so gentlemanly and proper now with your decorous kissing, as if you didn’t make me come with just your fingers last night. As if I didn’t eat yo―” you jested bluntly, butterflies filling your belly.

Joel growled at your provocation, interrupting you, his hips flush with yours.

“That nasty mouth of yours is gonna be my downfall one of these days,” he muttered. Then he kissed you, his tongue quick and ravishing. “Enough. Stop being so damn tempting.”

He let go of you, taking a step back and turning around. You took the opportunity to smack his ass before he walked off with a smirk on his lips.

You stayed inside, gathering all the bits and stuffing them back in your backpacks. You were going to venture into Oswego today again, stake out the town and the area where Joel thought Tommy and his group would most probably be.

Shuffling through your belongings, you found the pregnancy test you took a few days ago. The digital screen was still displaying the positive result ― one you dreaded, but then embraced.

In the span of forty-eight hours, you thought your relationship with Joel had crumbled down and reduced to nothingness, to then come back stronger like a phoenix rising from its ashes.

The look on his face when he thought you were leaving him still haunted you ― you hoped he would forget that feeling sooner rather than later. His confession had tugged at your heart so much, you had forgiven him after the first sentence. But you had let him keep on talking, because the self-indulgent part of yourself wanted to hear him say all those things. It wasn’t often that Joel Miller would make use of his mouth to verbally express his feelings.

You smiled to yourself, tremendously happy with how the situation had turned out in the end.

Throwing your backpack over your shoulders and Joel’s hanging from one arm, you walked outside with the pregnancy still on your hand, daydreaming ― your grin now permanently sculpted into your features.

Then you heard a voice you quickly recognised.

Tommy’s.

You froze halfway through the three steps on the porch, your gaze scanning the area until you found them.

Joel had a very schooled expression, almost blank, while Tommy frowned, gripping a shotgun close to his chest.

“You’ve been following me?” the younger Miller asked, visibly upset.

“Yes, we have, you dickhead,” Joel replied, his voice restrained. “You just left a―”

“We?” Tommy scoffed, taking a step back. “You’ve not ditched her body yet?”

Joel’s hazel eyes found yours, still glued to the steps. A silent plea for you to go back inside, sensing this would not end well. And you tried ― you took a step back to run back into the cabin, but Tommy was quicker.

Tommy turned around and almost jumped back as if he had seen a ghost. Probably because he thought he had.

You raised your hands up, showing him you were no threat.

“Hey, Tommy,” you greeted him with a feeble smile. “If you keep pointing that gun at me, I’m gonna start thinking it’s personal,” you joked to diffuse the situation.

“Tommy,” Joel’s firm voice made his brother looked at him askance, his pupils fixed right back on you. “Hey.”

Joel’s fingers wrapped around the barrel, pushing it down so it wouldn’t point at you anymore. You could see Tommy’s stiffness from the distance, ready to do whatever it was necessary.

When Joel yanked at the shotgun, Tommy broke eye contact with you to stare at his brother, not letting go of the shotgun.

“How’s she alive?”

“It’s a long story, bu―”

“She’s fucking infected. You’re fucking infected!” he screamed in a panic, stumbling back with his own feet and then directing the gun back at you.

Joel tried to approach him while you stayed as still as possible, your breathing hitching. Would he shoot? You hoped not, but he looked scared enough to do so.

“Tommy, listen to me―” Joel attempted to talk to him again.

“What’s that you’re holding?” Tommy snapped at you, ignoring his brother.

You paled. You had forgotten the pregnancy test was on your hand, lost as you were in your train of thought when you had walked out of the cabin.

No words left your mouth ― your orbs quickly found Joel’s. Both of you, frightened to death. Not for yourselves, but for your baby.

Tommy wouldn’t hurt you, would he? Unconsciously, your free hand dropped to your belly, wanting to protect this new life you were harbouring, growing.

Tommy’s façade fell, his jaw slack.

“You’re PREGNANT?!”

Joel reacted first, standing in the way, the barrel kissing the center of his chest. Then he pushed Tommy back, his composed expression gone. He was angry, you could tell. Really angry. You had only seen him that irate the night those two men almost raped you.

“If you ever point that gun at her again, I swear to fucking God, I’ll kill you myself with my bare hands, Tommy,” he growled.

Tommy blinked rapidly, his resolution coming back as he cocked the gun again.

“You both have lost your fucking minds,” Tommy scoffed, walking backwards towards the woods. “Don’t follow me anymore. Leave me the fuck alone.”

A minute after, the younger brother disappeared between the trees and Joel rushed to your side, his anger transforming into urgency.

“We gotta go.”

His words were impregnated with the same panic you were feeling.

Unbelievable, Tommy thought.

Had his brother gone mad? What the fuck was he thinking? And how were you alive? What kind of sinister magic was that?

He had so many unanswered questions, his head throbbed with an impending headache. Tommy needed the distance and the time to think this through. At first, he had been elated at seeing his brother after so long, but the excitement quickly shifted the moment he saw Joel accompanied by you. And fucking pregnant, by the looks of it.

Shaking his head, Tommy hooted like an owl, letting the people keeping watch know that he was approaching the two houses they all had been living in. The two buildings were on the forest boundary, far enough of other homes but close enough to town.

Bursting in through the doors, Laney met him in the corridor, hands on hips.

“So?”

“They are here. And what’s worst, she’s alive and pregnant,” Tommy almost spit the last word out.

Laney’s scowl deepened.

“Pregnant? Like, with a fucking zombie-like monster growing inside of her?”

The emphasis on that specific word made Tommy frown. He wouldn’t go as far as to say that. Laney could be a little dramatic sometimes.

“Well, I don’t know. No, I don’t think so? I mean, she looked fine, so I guess―” Laney walked past him, interrupting what he was saying. “Where are you going?”

“On patrol. Need to go into town for some supplies.”

“Need a hand?”

“No. Stay here, keep watch.”

And with that, she stepped out and closed the door behind her, leaving Tommy in the middle of the hallway with a nagging doubt picking at the back of his brain.

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu

@smolbeanzzz @guelyury @bishtrouille @harriedandharassed

@thepalaceofmelanie @eternallyvenus @theoraekenslover @vickie5446

[lustlovehart]

I just wanted to let you know that I've been obsessed with your monster and reverse!monster au 💓 I've been rereading the posts over and over again lol you're a great writer!

I was just wondering what you think would happen if the reader for each au was somehow swapped. Like monster!reader replaces hunter!reader in the monster au and vice versa. Would the monster boys be happy to have a monster darling who they wouldn't have to worry about scaring off, or still prefer the caring mortal reader? And would the hunter boys like hunter!reader more and fight about keeping them in their own ranks?

I guess they would all still be obsessed regardless lol

Thank you for your writings and don't forget to take breaks and rest!

This is such a fun idea ( ˘ ³˘)♥︎ (This ended up being way longer than expected)

The appeal with both of the au’s is the Odd one out kind of thing. As the others are taking a deep interest in you due to their status of being different from you, MH!Reader feels the opposite way, wishing to stem away from the dangers of the unknown (Despite the occupation of Monster hunter holding its mysteries, and the species of monster having their own ways.) This is essentially the make up of both Au’s. Buut, With the roles being swapped around, It surely sounds fun, because now, the cast and you are the same species, making it so they’ll have to find a different reason to become infatuated!

MH!Reader is appealing to the Monster!Twst cast as they’re a human who hunts their kind, while still harboring some form of sympathy towards them. Even with the acts of murder and all that evil stuff, they could fall into your arms, you might be horrified, but you’ll still hug them all the same.

But! If you were to swap them out with a Monster!Reader, you’d need to do something different too! Perhaps you’re the kind who travels instead of staying in one place. In this case, I think you’d have to do something along the lines of protecting humans this time! In the monster world, it’s an all for one thing, fight to survive. At first, when you protect the human they’re about to devour, they assume you’re just trying to steal their meal. But when you tell the thing to run away? They’re convinced you’re a fool.

But when you continually step in their way to stop them? Then they’ll be intrigued. If you’re a low ranked beast, they’ll gladly swipe their hand and let you drop dead. But, you’re ranked just the same as the 7 highest bounty beasts (Or so rumors says) so they can’t simply toss you away. That’s when you peak their interest. Someone as (rumoredly) powerful as you, take pity on humans? It’s pathetic… yet their actions speak the opposite.

“So, You stalk monsters you think are pathetic right? Do you attempt to sleep with them too?” Depending on who you’re talking to, you either receive a sway of the hand, or words of adoration.

The only one who is not affected by this change is Rollo. Just like his Human counterpart, he believes you to be absolutely vile. The way you save humans though is entirely the opposite. So… he’s extremely conflicted.

On the other end, you have MH!Reader with the reverse cast. It’s the same situation, where you spare a monster from the kindness in your heart. But, instead of it being them this time, they’re essentially spying on you as you let your heart get in the way. Truly… they should be executing you for such treasons, but they can’t bring themselves to do it. In this case, I like to think they had their eye on you before your first failed mission, but only when that happens do they actually engage in their interest.

Your status as a specialized hunter (Though everyone just calls you Crowleys favorite), leads to many admirers in the organization. Though, you didn’t think you’d receive 7 different letters (Plus a couple of extras from the newbie), all requesting you to transfer to their unit. They’ve only been talking to you for a few months after that job, you questioned why they were all scrambling for you attention at every turn. Maybe they just needed an extra member…? (no they’re obsessed.)

Riddle insists having someone like you in their group would be beneficial for both of you. You get less sporatic jobs, a more organized scheduele, and he gets to see you. Ace and Deuce would calm down a whole lot too… He has the highest chance of acceptance, but with the way Trey and Cater slump against the door at your answer, he understands he must try much harder. Especially if he’s going against the others…

Leona tells you if you join him, you’d get harder jobs, but will get way more rest than usual. You won’t ever see the first draft of the letter where… Your thoughts disperse when you notice Jack in the corner of your eye, the shadows overcasting him as if he’s a wet puppy. He doesn’t move from his spot when he turns his head, quietly asking if you’re gonna join.

Azul by far has the most convincing letter of request. What is it? You get a better pay and much better work benefits. Truthfully, if this was anyone else eyou’d take him up on the offer. But… Knowing him and those twins, less than ideal business transactions… you don’t think you will join them. Azul buries his head in his hands on the other side of the door, Jade sighing in disappointment while Floyd shifts from a happy mood, to a complete opposite vibe.

Kalim doesn’t actually send you a letter, he bursts in through the door just offering you the position straight up. The one who sends the request is Jamil. His offerings are rather on the standard side in truth. There’s a slight increase in your wage, but the true appeal is his offering to help assist you in your missions. Kalim may be in charge of the Scararbia unit, but Jamil is so capable… Though, you’re a bit off put by the feint smell of iron. You hope he didn't pen this after a job…

Vil is by far the most proper when he writes his letter. You’re sure this is those acting skills he has cooked up, the ones he uses to lure in unsuspecting monsters… He writes with a certain primness, yet a slight desperation that makes you feel inclined to join. You’re close to actually considering joining, but then a chill runs up your spine. You know the feeling all too well. Someone’s watching you. It’s definitely Rook. You set the paper down, leaving the room without showing any sign of knowing he’s there. He sniffs paper when you’re gone, leaving a second letter by him. You don’t read it.

Idia has the shortest letter of all. He lists what he can give you in bullet points, and then below just has a single sentence. “Please join.” Compared to everyone else, it’s the least worthy letter of acceptance. Yet, he’s the only one who gets an in person visit. He’s walking back and forth, tightening his head to the point of suffocation. He’s in a complete panic, why would you ever wanna join him? He’s the unit with the least talkative members… you’re gonna wanna leave the moment you join—

He stops his thoughtless rampage when you pull his head free from that hood. Everyone sees this happening too by the way, and suddenly they’re wishing they did whatever it was he wrote down.

Malleus is the exact opposite. He has the longest letter ever, 5 pages?? The first three are him praising your skills, your looks, you intellect, your kindness, your— It’s too much to process. You don’t even have the chance to finish the letter before Sebek basically hoists you overs his shoulder all of a sudden.

“Malleus is waiting for your arrival! As a new member you can’t be late!” Your head turns quickly towards Lilia and Silver, heavy confusion evident on your face. You… You didn’t even…! Wait, did they just assume you’d say yes to him?? (Lilia knows you didn’t. When you’re alone with him he’ll let you decide. But, convincing you with a little persuasion wouldn’t hurt would it? After all, he hopes you join them as well)

Rollo basically cucks everyone 💀. When you’re looking through and actually considering, he sits next to you. His fingers gently grab your hand and pull you away from the papers, his eyes imagining fire to set to those wretched requests.

“Why would you join them?” His mouth ghosts over your knuckles, never touching them, but connecting somehow. “I believe you’re everything without them.” Rollo attempts to block out the other 4 who nod in agreement. (He doesn’t wanna accept his alone time with you is being interrupted by Fellow, Skully, Neige, and Chenya 💀)

[mdhwrites]

THE. HERTA.

The writers from the Intelligentsia Guild wanted to give me an extra title. Something like "Herta Prime" to separate me from my puppets. How banal. Are the puppets not "me" as well? So, I gave them a suggestion — if they dared to write that, then I would call myself THE Herta. It's short, simple, straight to the point, and elegant.

Esteemed member #83 of the Genius Society, human, female, young, beautiful, attractive. It's said that she lives in the far edge of the Cosmos, almost never leaving. Sounds like her appearance this time... must be to deal with an issue that has to be handled herself, right?

Image and above text taken from Hoyo's English account on Twitter.

OH MY GOD I'M HYPED! And just this alone already feels right. I'll admit when I first saw her I went "Teen Lisa" at the design... But it's a teenager which is kind of major to me. Framing her that young fits exceptionally well with who she has been throughout the entire game. Hear me out:

When we first meet her, she's a petulant, uncaring brat who just wants to play with her toys and hardly cares for people who don't make her life more fun. A bad ending to Star Rail's beginning is sticking around and Herta losing interest in you because of the lack of change. All she cares about is her simulated universe.

By the time Ruan Mei is there though, she's spent a lot more time at the Space Station than she ever has before. She now has a group of peers she has been working with for a long while, something implied she hasn't done really, much like Ruan Mei. But instead of just taking charge and telling the others what geniuses they'll recruit, she's asking for input, wanting their thoughts, stuff like that. She is learning her game is more fun with more players.

A sidequest in Penacony pushes her the next step where she is given a heavy weight. A weapon used to destroy entire star systems. She doesn't mock the scientist, the gift or the weapon like she might have at the start. She treats the Stellaron in us as just a weapon to be played with after all. No, she solemnly tucks it away for later, respectful of the wish that someone who can maybe use it for good have it. It's a responsibility that she must accept, properly, with no one like Asta to shirk it off to. Instead of trying to ignore it though, she treats it with respect.

Finally, we have the Unknown Domain which has a LOT to it about Herta potentially opening up due to it being about something so critical to who she is... But the one I want to zoom in on is the ending. For someone who saw themselves as so high and mighty, who theoretically treats the universe as a curiosity to be replicated, who can only be interested in the strange and unknowable, the curiosities of existence... She gives a mundanite comfort. Thanks someone who could never approach her understanding for giving her the first step into being who she is. She knows it's a simulation but she feels that weight enough to feel the need to thank the simulation regardless.

And now she deems something so important that she comes herself? What could that possibly mean? She needs to kiss Ruan Mei? I can't even begin to properly guess but I am excited to put it mildly because we have gotten to see this teenager, some loli bait doll, become a young woman and now we'll get a physical manifestation of it and I LOVE IT.

Also, just a shout out to the description perfectly explaining why she's Ice Erudition again. "The puppets are me." So why would she be anything other than just a refined, perfected version of the puppets? Also she uses a keyblade/staff which makes the Kingdom Hearts fan in me happy and I'm just SO curious what we're going to see with her. A Herta who summons other Hertas? Does she spin with the key? Is the portal cat an actual thing to her? GIVE ME MORE INFORMATION STAR RAIL!

But for now, I am just excited to let my mind expand thanks to this first turn of her key to let us see who she will be. I just hope it's as exciting when she opens the door properly. See you next tale.

======+++++======

A reminder my asks are open and I'd love questions about Star Rail or even story ideas! I struggle more with concepts to write about for Star Rail far more than I wish I did and I'd love to hear your all's thoughts for a font of inspiration.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[sufferu]

Your fantastic writing skills gave me angst I demand compensation. Lol. You gave me a lot to think about and I have to say, in my nearly 9 years of being an avid fanfic reader. A writer never made me THIS invested.

After being abandoned by everyone, do you think subaru will go to Priscilla? She was the only one who saw his side.

I have to say tho I get Subaru's side more. He can't control RBD. If anyone had the power to bring back loved ones they would. I'm sure Ferris wouldn't hesitate to save crush. I think everybody is so upset that they tunnel visioned and didn't do right by him. Everything is outside of his control. He doesn't choose to come back. But he is, so he tries to save more people everytime.

Subaru obviously has issues. And I don't like the way the re zero narrative punishes him for using RBD. Meanwhile, Al is over here spaming reset with no consequences.

The world hates Subaru and the rest of the cast blame him. He is trying harder then ANYONE to LIVE, but they call him a suicidal monster.

I’m so glad that you’re enjoying my fic! That is some high praise right there, lol: I do hope to meet those expectations going forward ;)

Though I will say…I am approaching this from a slightly different angle. For starters — this will be a lot clearer in the actual chapter than it was in this ficlet, but Arc 5 does not go the same way it does in canon, hence how Subaru managed to save EVERYONE and capture/kill literally every attacking Archbishop in Priestella. This is the main reason why everyone is so angry and devastated. If it were canon Arc 5, things might have gone differently. …Then again, Arc 8 DOES exist. So maybe we would have ended up in this situation someday regardless.

But also…well.

Return By Death isn’t JUST a powerful ability that Subaru has access to: it is the epitome of weaponized self-destruction, in which he can literally sacrifice himself over and over again for the sake of those around him whether they like it or not. He is fully capable of taking all their pain on himself, of placing himself in unimaginably horrible situations on other people’s behalf, and doing it for…maybe even all of eternity, depending on how things go. If you’ve ever read The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelas by Ursula K Le Guin — Subaru has the potential to basically become That for the entirety of Lugunica. And even worse: if he’s employed as a knight, it is arguably his sworn duty to do exactly that, because a knight is a profession in which one lays down their life for the people they want to protect. What does that turn into when the knight can do that again and again, indefinitely?

The cast of Re:Zero shows every sign that they would absolutely fucking hate the idea of being reliant on something that disgusting. Julius sacrifices his reputation to try and keep Subaru alive, Tivey and Hetaro declare that throwing away one’s life for a cause is a fucking joke, Ferris has this whole thing about valuing life to the point where just a hint of Subaru being suicidal sends him into an actual nervous breakdown, Vincent is raked through the coals for his attempt to sacrifice himself for his country just that one time by both the narrative and the people around him, Arc 4 exists — there’s A Lot that points to most of these characters finding the idea of this cycle of repeated sacrifice bring just AWFUL, and even to the idea that they’d actively take offense to someone attempting to do such a thing on their behalf.

There is one exception to this rule, however, and that is Priscilla Barielle — who actively praises subjects that sacrifice themselves for her, who forces Aldebaran to reset whenever he does something she doesn’t like, who praised Subaru as a brilliant knight when he was (narratively speaking) at his very worst, who symbolizes the mechanisms of fate itself, who’s final moment involved her sacrificing herself for her homeland, and who is in every way the pinnacle of the Sword Wolf that Vollachia praises as the ideal subject (VOLLACHIA, mind you, which is a nation that has the whole Muspel contract going on). Priscilla is an actual monster, an awful personality, and the antithesis of the themes of Re:Zero. So her siding with Subaru in this instance is — completely in character, but it’s one of the most damning things I feel I could have done.

(I am glad that someone was able to actually connect with her though — was afraid that I made her too cartoonishly evil lmao)

As for what’s happening to Subaru now…well, you’re right about the end of that duel being the rock bottom of his character’s state in this fic. But — just because he was fired from his post doesn’t mean he’s being ABANDONED. They can’t afford to abandon a time traveler to be left to his own devices, first of all. But also, even in they’re all Very Angry with him right now…all these people still love him an awful lot. There’s a reason Wilhelm decided to duel him for the position and take the blame for his removal all upon himself, instead of doing something that would leave Subaru more at the mercy of public opinion. And there’s a reason Crusch’s idea of “suicide watch” was basically, “Hey, Wilhelm, do you want a new grandchild?” instead of something like “Let’s imprison him in the catacombs of the Kingdom.” They DO care about him. That’s the problem.

[biibini]

Hi! I was wondering if you could try out headcanons for Modern Mizu, but Y/N would be a singer songwriter who like playing guitar and stuff lol, doesn't matter if Y/N would be famous or not, it's completely fine if it doesn't really fit your interests i had another writer try this out i just wanted to see your take on it because i love your writing style and how your portray Mizu <3

modern!mizu x singer!reader (request)

tags: reader in indie rock band, college!au, modern au, singer reader, banter banter banta, drinking, taigen being frat brother at sigma chi since that’s the modern equivalent of the shindo dojo, random bandmate names , mizu with pretty eyes, sweet modern mizu i just love her sm

a/n: thank u to those who voted! i was struggling how to write this since i’ve seen a lot of bassist!mizu. i’ve never been asked the reverse :0

singer!reader is a part of an indie rock band called across oceans at mizu’s college. the title is a loose term, but you make it work.

mizu never heard of her or her band until ringo and akemi brought mizu to another typical “rager” (coined by taigen). she knows what typically happens at these parties, the usual frat dj aka a glorified person on aux, people drunk dancing, someone playing fein or mo bamba that gets the house shaking. what mizu doesn’t expect is an actual band: drums, keyboard, bassist, and a very pretty girl on the mic.

singer!reader didn’t expect this gig to ever follow through. it was the first time a frat brother asked for you to play, especially from sigma chi, one of the biggest fraternity houses on campus. it was an odd request when one of your band members brought it up, but nonetheless, your band accepted. a gig is a gig and if was better than some random stage.

“So you’re telling me, our next gig, could probably potentially be Sigma Chi? The Sigma Chi?”, you question, appalled with the request.

Sigma Chi was a completely different demographic from your usual sets. You didn’t play any popular songs besides an Artic Monkey, Her’s or a TV Girl song here and there.

Your keyboardist shrugs, “Look, a guy in my class asked me if I was a part of Across Oceans and if we could play at their next party. Apparently, it was one of the brother’s girlfriend’s birthday that night, and they’re more into indie pop and rock so…”

“Who was the guy anyway?”, your drumist interrupted.

“Some guy named Tiger or Tyler Ren, I don’t know.”

You huffed in frustration.

A small band such as yours don’t really have the best turn outs at your college, unless a lot of people you know come and bring their best energy in support.

Why waste time for a bored audience?

“Point is, we have a gig and they’re paying well.”

“How well?”, you asked, debating whether or not to take the unusual gig.

It couldn’t be that high, right?

“Better than the Four Fangs Bar.”, he answered.

Your eyes widen as your guitarist whistle to the number. Never knew frats threw money around like that.

You leaned back in your chair, anticipating your bandmates’ reactions. You weren’t opposed, but… pay is pay, right?

At this time, you guys are typically practicing a new song or hashing out an upcoming setlist. Instead, silence fills the room, all band members in thought. You hear the quiet hum of the A/C mixes with the murmurs from students in the hallway, waiting for any objections.

“Fuck it, let’s do the gig.”, you announce.

singer!reader isn’t the official leader… but when the rest of the members can’t make a decision, they end up turning to you as the decision maker.

singer!reader , the main singer and songwriter of the band. it gets difficult balancing school and this, but you make it work with your schedule. besides, what’s better than the flow of your voice playing along to the strums of your guitar?

singer!reader ‘s band name originates from the fact that your bassist, Paul, and keyboardist, Janine, were international students: one from across the pacific, and the other across the atlantic. regardless of their origin, they were one of the best players your drumist, Owen, found.

the night of the gig, singer!reader and your bandmates meet the host, a frat brother named taigen. he’s nice and welcoming. was he a little egotistical? maybe. but was he just happy to help a brother? yeah, even if they didn’t know too many of your songs… or the genre itself…

however, they do request a song, his friend’s girlfriend’s favorite song: lover’s rock by tv girl. across oceans has basically perfected that song due to it being a popular request.

“Could you play my girlfriend’s favorite song?”, the frat brother asks.

You nod, “Sure, what song is it?”

“Lover’s Rock by TV Girl? Did I get the name right?”

You hear your band members sigh. The one song they know all too well.

“Did I get it wrong? Bro, I’m so sorry-”

“No no no, it’s fine.”, you interject, “It’s perfect! We have that song down.”

“For real bro?“, he says in awe.

“For. Real.”, your Janine answers, putting an open hand in front of the frat brother.

You watch the guy go in for a dap up, patting your Janine’s back a little too hard. He pulls back and waves goodbye.

“I’m so hyped, bro. Let’s go Across Oceans!”, he yells as he goes inside the house.

You hear your drumist, Owen, scoff, teasing your band member, “Let’s set up, bruh.”

“Hey! Without me, we wouldn’t be here!”, she objects.

“He’s right, sorry bro.”, you tease back at him.

“Hey!”

as the party starts, singer!reader plays some more popular indie songs along the realms of beebadobee, the marias, mac de marco, clairo, etc. it’s not so bad, considering that the students are actively cheering and whistling after every song.

your band plays along with the positive energy of the crowd, as some drunk people sing along, jump to the beat, even scream the lyrics with singer!reader. it’s such a blast being able to relay the same vibe with an interactive crowd, despite the amount of alcohol they’ve consumed.

singer!reader may have also consumed a cup or two of beer, kudos to taigen for keeping the band “hydrated”.

with every song that played, singer!reader watches the house’s backyard fill up, almost to the brim. watching a sea of partygoers vibe to the songs satisfied you, hell, it energized you to keep singing, despite the slight slur of your words.

as singer!reader watched the crowd, a few have stood out. there’s always the usual non-listener here and there, a couple or two pairs making out by the house walls, and the one that’s typically wannabe-cool and nonchalant.

now those type of people are the best to watch, slowly get their attention with eye-contact as you finding the right song to play, hoping to get them further interested.

and singer!reader did spot one of those in the crowd, whilst playing looking out for you again by joy again. you don’t remember recalling her name, yet she looked so familiar.

“It’s just the way you’re glancing at me…”, you sing into the mic, hoping to get another sight of the girl again.

“Something about you just makes me feel guilty for liking you…”

You finally spot her far in the back with her raven hair up in a bun, standing next to a guy, much bigger than her and completely jamming out to your band. On the other hand, she’s just blankly staring, carefully watching your performance, as her hands are in her navy jacket’s pockets.

“When you’re with him…”

You make eye-contact with the girl again, getting a chance to look at her features more. You watch as the little curl of the strand of her dark jet-black hair waving against the breeze.

“When you’re with him.”

The way her eyes glisten a deep ocean blue from absurd amount of fairy lights a frat house can put up keeps your attention on her, never wavering.

“This is a long song for a girl who will never know its about her,”

She smiles gently, close enough to notice but too far for you to call out. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks. You tell your mind to blame it on the alcohol.

“I know it’s pretty stupid, but I’m much too shy to tell her…

A soft grin stays on her face, now fully listening to your singing. Her blue eyes fixate on yours, never breaking the connection. You wouldn’t admit it on stage, but god it felt good getting their attention.

“She’s beaming with that smile, all the while…”

You smile back, nodding to the rhythm.

God, you could get lost in those eyes.

Thin, soft, yet filled with so much depth the more you stare into the ocean blue orbs.

“I’m all choked up on my own throat,”

You watch her head mimic yours, her little curl bopping along to the music.

“I guess there is noooo hope.”

singer!reader ‘s band takes a break, letting the member’s fight who wants control of the aux. you let them beef.

on the other hand, singer!reader needed to find that girl, stat. red solo cup in hand, you rush to where you last saw her but found no traces. that is, until, you spot her alone in the kitchen.

“You go to these often?”, you say, getting her attention.

She walks closer to you, leaning on the kitchen counter next to you, as people start to fill the kitchen. She shrugs, sipping on the bright blue liquid in her cup. You also sip on your cup, drinking up the mysterious alcohol.

“It’s not my usual scene. My friends kinda, uh, dragged me here.”, she said.

“Ah… I see.”, you say as you looked down into your cup, hiding your gaze from the girl.

You don’t know what was poured in your cup, but it needed to hit you in the head right now.

“But I really liked your set.”, she says, while your head peeps up.

“It’s not the usual stuff they play here, but I’m sure it was because of Ise.”

“That’s the name of the birthday girl?”

Her eyes widened, dryly laughing at your response,“You didn’t know??”

“She didn’t ask us! Her boyfriend’s friend asked us to come here. He was practically begging.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. We thought he was pranking us or something. His name was like, Tiger Ren, or something like that.”

“Ok, you’ve got to be pranking me.”, she jokingly accuses you, chuckling at the accusation.

“I swear I’m not! I promise!”, you defend yourself, pulling your free hand up as if you got caught red handed.

The blue-eyed girl inches closer to you, smiling as she whispers in your ear, “I know Taigen and he’d rather kill himself than beg.”

Her breath tickles your ear, smiling along as well. You pull her closer, her arm next to yours, as if to share a forbidden secret.

“Well, I’m glad he didn’t jump.”

Both of you laugh together, side by side, shoulders against one another. You feel the warmth of the alcohol heat up your face, making you feel light and giggly. You lean on the counter to stay stable.

“I guess you learn something new everyday.”, you laugh. You tell her your name.

You watch her lean close to your ear again, her pink lips inches away from touching your flushed cheek.

“I guess you really do. My name is Mi-”

You hear your name get called out from the backyard.

“It’s birthday song time!”, Owen called out.

Shit.

“I’ll be out there in a sec!”

“I gotta get back up there but I’ll see you around, Miiii?”

“Mizu.”

“See you, Mizu!”

You push yourself out of the crowded kitchen yelling, “Who’s ready to sing for the birthday girl?”

The whole room cheers in unison, pushing themselves outside with you.

singing happy birthday to a half drunk sorority girl and an even drunker pack of sorority sisters and brothers was a sight to see. after playing another set, your band packs up for the night.

singer!reader never got anything besides a name: mizu. after ise’s birthday bash, your band got very popular with the frats and other clubs that filled your schedule with gigs and performances. excited, you took them all.

with every college gig you played at, you always noticed the same blue-eyed girl at the back, the little curl in her bangs bouncing to rhythm. with every break, you would find the chance to talk to her again.

with every break, singer!reader relished in the small talks you would have with mizu about school, life, new songs, anything. every conversation was physically close, every touch fluttering your heart, the red in your cheeks flaring up.

singer!reader blamed it on the alcohol and hope mizu doesn’t see through it.

singer!reader and mizu swap spotifys, sharing music and playlists mixed with each of your own tastes.

Mizu 🎧

do you have spotify?

yeah

wsp?

[Invite Link to Create a Blend]

you should click on this hehe

istg if u dox me…

aw u dont trust me ?? :(

no.

boooooo 👎🍅

besides being a supporter of your sets, singer!reader finds herself asking mizu and some friends to come over and watch across oceans rehearse so everything sounds clear and perfect, especially before a big party. it usually goes well for the most part, except the instances when you get a glimpse of mizu and forget a lyric or two. its typically paired with banter between your band mates.

You hear your keyboardist, Janine, groan your name.

“Girl, the lyrics!”

“Sorry!”

The blood rushes to your cheeks, showing off your embarrassment.

“It’s okay, I think I was off-key anyways.”, your bassist, Paul, claims. He starts fine-tuning his bass, focusing on the instrument. As for you, you look back on the lyrics online, hoping to ingrain the words before this week’s gig.

Fortunately, it was another high paying gig from a sorority. Unfortunately, they were requesting Chappell Roan and there were barely any sheet music for her songs, let alone her song Casual.

“Okay, gameplan. We finish the main chorus done and we can finish the final bridge and outro tomorrow.”, you claim.

Your band agrees.

“Just remember, it’s two ‘Is it casual now?’ and then its the duplicates.”, your keyboardist stresses.

“Yes Janine, we know you love her.”, Owen sighs.

“No hard feelings to Y/N, I just wanted to set the record straight.”, Janine protests, reading her hands on the keys.

You hear Paul scoff, “As if you are.”

Janine’s jaw drops, shocked as if Paul just dropped a bomb on her face.

“Says you, you fruit!”

“What did you just call me??”

“You heard me!”

“Hey!”, you interject, clapping your hands together, “You guys can have a fruit-off after this. Let’s just get this done please.”

singer!reader is thankful that despite their attitudes, they get along with banter and forgiveness at the end of the day.

singer!reader deep down hopes that they don’t kill each other about being called a fruit (fingers crossed).

singer!reader also finds herself inviting mizu over a few times for a listening party aka you writing and practicing songs while she actively listens, maybe critiques, or simply be there doing homework together

singer!reader is surprised to find more people asking if the band played x song or y song. although most requests come from popular songs, you implement a few into the rehearsal mix.

after finishing a set at one of taigen’s so-called ragers, your band packs up for the dj coming soon. although this meant the end of your set, taigen agreed that the band should stay afterwards and enjoy the party while it lasted. it was before midterms after all.

once your band finished packing up the equipment into your keyboardist’s van, the four of you were left with a decision: stay at the party or leave. as nice as it is for taigen to invite you guys back to play, it was getting late and your drumist had a shift tomorrow morning.

until you hear janine call your name from the van.

“Are you heading home too?”, you pout, cup in hand.

“Yeah, I figured your girlfriend wants to talk with you again.”, Janine giggles.

“For the last time, Mizu’s just a friend!”

“And I’m totally not delusional!”, Paul teases, mocking your voice.

You laugh nervously, checking your surroundings for any sight of her. After the set, you know she tends to disappear into the kitchen or a hallway upstairs.

“Anyways, lover girl, we’ll let you shoot your shot.”

“I-“

“Ah ah ah,” Janine waves a finger in front of you as she starts the car, “Don’t miss!”

singer!reader tries to find her at her usual spot in the kitchen. you end up finding her on a balcony upstairs, overseeing the houses next to the frats. only a dim porch light reveals mizu’s shadow, quietly sipping a drink in her cup.

“There you are.”, you greet, sliding open the balcony door.

“Heyy.”, Mizu greets back, softly smiling at you.

“You weren’t in the kitchen like you always are.”

“Just felt like getting fresh air. Some peace and quiet from the noise.”

You chuckle as you hear the rhythm and bass of the DJ set vibrate the house.

“I don’t blame you.”

You look out, swishing your cup with whatever mixer Ise poured in your cup. You’re unsure but you take a sip, hoping it’s strong enough to keep you sane around Mizu.

After many gigs, you’ve seen her and met with her, talking in between sets, and after sets before you leave. Although it’s short and sweet, you can’t help wanting to know more. Unintentionally, the thought of her consumes your mind: the way her voice gets raspy after a drink or two as you talk about your favorite artists, her touch behind your back when you’re trying to get out of a packed room, the way her eyes seem to shine sapphire every time you locked eyes with her while you’re playing.

Unfortunately, your band members weren’t complete idiots and tease you at every college gig. They come from a good place, but your mind can’t stop thinking about her voice when you’re trying to focus on writing a new song.

You try to drown your busy mind with another sip. The liquid goes down smooth with a peach aftertaste.

“Oh god, did they put soju in this?”, you cry out.

“Maybe. You know how Ise likes her drinks.”

You stare at your cup, the liquid filling to the halfway point. Mizu puts down hers on the table, holding onto something that crumples from her grasp.

Mizu steps closer to you and hands you a small bouquet of tulips, a delicate mix of pinks, whites, and reds tied together with newspaper. Its barely visible but Mizu’s hand was shaking from the nerves. And maybe a little wobbly from the alcohol.

“For your successful set and for surviving midterms as well.”

In shock, you accept the gesture, letting her place the bouquet in your hands. It smells so sweet, a contrasting smell from the puffs of nicotine, sweet, and strong alcohol downstairs. It was the first time you’ve received flowers on the behalf of your band’s talent and success, let alone, surviving school.

“Mizu, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to.”, you say, looking down at the flowers. You feel the blood rush to your cheeks, tinting them red. Thankfully, it’s barely visible from the dim lighting.

“I wanted to. Because… well…”

“Because?”

“I… um…”, she stammered,

You hear the rhythm of her breath quicken. You look up to find her inches away, biting the inner corner of her lip, her eyes finding the right words.

You pull a hand out to Mizu’s arm, comforting her.

“It’s okay, Mizu, thank you for—”

“Sorry, I just… can’t stop watching you when you perform.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.”, you slip out,

Both of you look at each other with a stunned look, dumbfounded at both of your tipsy confessions.

Mizu pulls you close, moving the bouquet out of the way, as her lips are merely inches away from yours. You were fine with the closeness when it came to whispering, but this was different.

“May I?”

You nod, as the gap closed between the two of you. The taste of peach hits your lips, as you feel the softness of her lips push against yours.

Mizu pulls back, her breath staggering against yours. You place your cup to the side before reaching for her cheek, pulling her even closer to you, sealing the gap with a kiss once again.

You thank Ise for whatever shot(s) of liquid courage she put in both of your drinks.

[mochamvgz]

stay a while.n.ki

; your boyfriend breaks the news to you about him moving away after high school, leaving you devastated.

; nishimura riki x reader

; genre: angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, high school au

; warnings: implied break-up, crying, intrusive thoughts

; 0.6k words

; tags: @sobun1est @kbookshelf

“we're running out of time.”

it's as if time halts for a moment as you utter those words into existence. your voice was quiet but that obviously did nothing to soften the blow, for you feel riki freeze mid-action.

your eyes remain trained on your fingers as you fidget with them on your lap. you don't look up. you don't want to see whatever expression is painted on his face, you're too scared to.

“i'm right, aren't i? you've been dodging the question for weeks now.”

your voice comes out choked but you force your face to remain passive.

a defeated sigh rings out from beside you and you notice his shoulders slump in your peripheral vision.

the room is quiet for a moment. you can sense your boyfriend, soon to be your ex, trying to find the right words to say, mulling them over in his brain before saying them out loud. his hand reaches for yours but you pull away before you can even register what you're doing. his fingers collapse into a loose fist, as though even they were dejected, and his hand slowly retreats from your vision, almost begging you to change your mind.

“i’m sorry.”

“for what? keeping me waiting and letting me cry every night for the past week over the mere thought of losing you? us? that's not a big deal at all!”

“what? you-you've been... crying?”

riki is facing you now, his tone carries a noticeable undertone of surprise, but you still don't look up. your silence answers for you.

“at least tell me now, are you moving away or not?”

you ask after a beat, finally turning to face him. his lips purse as he avoids eye contact and you already know the answer. regardless, you wait for verbal confirmation.

part of your brain screams at you to back away, take back the question and lock him in a closet because you weren't ready to let go, not so soon.

“most probably, yes”

“you told me you would decide last month.”

another sigh, “fine. yes, I am going.”

the admission plunges you in a whirlwind of emotions. your ears are ringing now. memories flash in your mind of the unfulfilled promises you made to one another, the seemingly insignificant ones as well as the big ones. you're watching a movie in your head where the scenes are moving too quick to allow any space for comprehension.

“then why did you lie earlier?”

“i didn't want to talk about this right now, i didn't want to tell you…”

you can't deal with this right now, you need to clear your head.

your body works on autopilot as you stand up abruptly. his fingers clasp around your wrist almost reflexively, keeping you from walking away. you can't find the willpower to look at him.

he pulls you towards him and you fall on his lap.

“we've still got a couple of months…”

there's the faintest hint of hope in the sentence. maybe hope wasn't exactly the right word for it but for it but you were too lost in the moment to give a damn.

“i love you.”

riki tenderly whispers into your ear and that's all it takes for the floodgates to open. you curl in closer to him, clutching his t-shirt as your sobs break loose. he wastes no time wrapping his arms around your quivering frame.

“i love you too.”

he buries his face into the side of your neck and it's not long before you feel your collar dampen from his tears. he isn't ready to let go either.

both of you had known this moment would come one day, and dreaded its arrival, but none of you were prepared for heartache to come knocking on your door so soon.

; a/n: i wasn't planning on writing anything in 10th grade bc I had a massive case of writer's block but here i am! i tried writing in present tense for the first time, did you guys like it better? sorry, it's pretty short. my exams are around the corner so i probably won't be putting anything out again for a few months at least. hope you liked the fic!

© mochamvgz on tumblr | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise, repost, or translate

[lord-squiggletits]

This might be bc of my personal reading of exRDI/OP bc I'm pretty sure the authorial intent was to just write Optimus as having some fall from grace/borderline tyrannical edge but like

I really kinda wish the story had been written as more of a political intrigue, almost GOT-esque thing (sorry for the cliche) where like, instead of Optimus being written as the narrative's scapegoat to be condemned both by the characters in universe and the meta narrative, he was just written as...morally gray? With more of a focus on "this is a shitty situation where no decision is good" rather than having Optimus just be some sort of white guilt stand-in of how oh, he's a Prime so that means the most important part of his legacy is how Cybertronians are awful and he's no better than the other ones etc.

Like Barber doesn't write Optimus as EVIL or in a way where he's unilaterally condemned as a person who did more harm than good, it's just imo the vibes of the story is more of a dark political/war story where no person is clean and there's no solution to the war that doesn't involve moral compromise. Instead Optimus is forced to make these moral compromises but then everyone else in the story loses their absolute shit and immediately starts calling him a tyrant or a fascist or something.

Like idk, it was partially an issue of the set-up. Because for one, it was really hard to take it seriously when the humans went "omg he's annexing Earth the Autobots were literally the colonizers all along!" (I think the dialogue was written almost exactly like that too sjdjsidn, so bad dialogue was also another issue) yet were perfectly fine working with the Decepticons led by 1. Soundwave who personally helped execute the attempted invasion of Earth and 2. Galvatron who constantly talks about wanting to kill these puny organics. I feel like I would've been able to take humanity's fears of being colonized again more seriously if like, they hadn't literally teamed up with The Colonizer Faction just bc Soundwave promised they were good guys again. So really it's just execution + plot holes + bad dialogue.

And another thing about the annexing of Earth specifically that I wish got talked about more (mostly by the fandom more than in universe) is that like. Basically the reason Optimus did that was because the neo-Decepticons were planning to invade Earth again, but since he's not actually a formal political leader any more he has no power to actually force a war to stop them/request military back up. But also, Starscream didn't give a shit about Earth and neither did the Council of Worlds, so appealing to the government for help defending humanity wouldn't work either. So Optimus annexing Earth was an absolute clusterfuck yes, but in a way it was also kind of a shrewd political move to force Cybertron to dedicate a spot in the government for humans and thus grant humans a say on Cybertronian politics.

What I mean is that in a story/with an author like that of GOT, where the setting is grimmer and every character is morally ambiguous, I feel like Optimus would've had way more room to be an interesting and compelling character. Bc then instead of the story immediately screaming "ALL HAIL OPTIMUS DID YOU KNOW OP ANNEXING EARTH TO THE COUNCIL IS BASICALLY THE SAME AS MEGATRON ATTEMPTING TO GENOCIDE EARTH," Optimus could have been played around with more as a political figure making the shitty decisions in an effort to stop another genocide. Instead of just unilaterally condemning Optimus and immediately comparing him to fucking Megatron of all people, there could've been more focus on the politics of it with maybe some sort of theme of how "being a leader in war is an inherently unethical position where every decision you make will lead to death/conflict/hate."

Like idk I just think it would've been more interesting if the narrative spent less time going "zomg Optimus is totally a tyrant now" and instead went all in on exploring the political conflicts and how far politicians (Optimus now being one, since he's declaring wars and forcefully acting as an ambassador that no one asked for) can go on manipulation and forcing people's hands for the sake of an ultimately good cause. I mean, Windblade was doing shit like covering up for Chromia who killed people in a bombing, making backdoor deals with Starscream, and conspiring with Optimus to bypass Starscream/overthrow him as Cybertron's ruler somehow. The difference of course is that Windblade and exRID were written by two different authors with genre/thematic differences, but as a reader it is really disappointing to see two different political narratives where "a hero turned politician turning to morally gray/unethical methods to outmaneuver a deadly opponent" is treated as clever and heroic for one character, but tyrannical and worthy of ostracization of another character.

Like for God's sake this narrative where Optimus gets lambasted at every turn sometimes by people who work with/are literal tyrants/terrorists themselves is so fucking exhausting. I'd rather read a story that focused more on the idea of, well what Optimus did was unethical but on a political level it was actually advantageous in several ways. Then you could write a story that really dives into a view of like, idk... Does power inherently corrupt or is it just situations like war that allow leaders to seize power and become tyrannical? Are politics an inherently dirty field where the only way to beat your competition (and secure a decent future for the nation) is to become underhanded and manipulative yourself? Is it okay to bypass or work against rightfully elected officials when those officials are turning a blind eye to things like war and invasions and historic racism?

ExRID did somewhat touch on these themes to be fair, but I feel like in Optimus' case they were either poorly executed or just thrown away in favor of having every other character talk shit about him and how he's the worst person ever. Bc like goddammit, I do think Optimus' polarizing and sometimes bad decisions as a character DO make him skirt on the edge of tyranny and shouldn't be downplayed, but on the other hand, I feel like no one (fandom or in-universe) ever tangles with the OTHER side of the story, which is just... Would it have been unethical for Optimus to NOT have done anything? Cybertronians literally put a colony on Earth, injected Earth with alien technology and sleeper agents, used Earth as an incubating ground for dangerous elements like Ore-13, invaded Earth and killed 1 billion people-- after all the shit Cybertron did to Earth, is it not fair (even morally obligated) for Cybertronians to clean up their shit and help Earth defend itself against a crisis that Cybertronians caused? And if Cybertron's government/the individuals within are racist enough that they don't care about Earth, don't see it as their problem, and don't even see human life as meaningful since they don't live that wrong anyways... is it not, in a way, a good thing for Optimus to have overstepped his authority and forced diplomatic relationships between the two planets? So that humans had an actual political channel to go "fuck you, we're in your Council so you'd better ally with us" and so that Cybertron would be forced to go "welp can't write off these humans as Not Our Problem, guess we have to help them." Doesn't forcing Earth to be part of the Council in a way legitimize Optimus' fight to help Earth, since without a formal political office he's just a rogue general fighting an unauthorized war, but with the government involved, defending Earth now becomes a politically sanctioned act?

Like idk. I guess exRID and OP did get into some of this stuff, but as a whole it felt like the story underutilized its political elements and got bogged down in shit like pointless crossovers, and constantly pausing the narrative to have Side Character #2847 talk about how Optimus is a fascist, and having Optimus go on white guilt-esque monologues about how maybe all Cybertronians should die and are unworthy/unable to ever have a peaceful society because their society colonized other planets.

Just so much wasted potential honestly. ExRID/OP as written felt like it was going way too hard into "omg Cybertronians bad and Optimus is actually a tyrant" instead of just writing a complex story and letting readers come to their own conclusions. And also lambasting Optimus for doing things that other characters did (or characters who did even worse things), but letting those characters exist in peace while Optimus has to just be some allegory for colonialism that has to be torn down at every turn because that's Deep and Intellectual.

I just like the kinds of stories about politics that play around with the ethics of it all, like, "this politician is a shitty person but their policies actually prevented some sort of disaster from happening" or "this person did something illegal and defied the law but they did it because no one else was doing anything" or even "everyone hates this person for forcing them into a political deal they didn't want to be involved in, but the fact that they were all forced to become allies actually allowed them to cooperate and save themselves in a way they wouldn't have been able to alone" (which is pretty much literally how the annexing of Earth ended up going).

Like man I don't want to sit here being lectured/having my favorite character be lectured about how much tyranny is bad. I want my favorite character to do shitty things and then go "whoa that was shitty...but also kind of smart...but also caused a lot of problems...but also solved some other problems that could've turned awful if he hadn't forcefully resolved them."

[distortedkilling]

Hii, it's the same anon from before! I really enjoy reading your comments about Mahito's character and also curses in general, so thank you for answering it! (Also your commentary on Mahito's more masculine design due to masculine violence was something that I also thought sometimes, I think it's really interesting)

About the sexuality stuff, it was the same type of questions to be honest. Like, how does he and other curses perceive it, how would maybe he identify himself with, etc. I've read this interpretation once that curses do not feel any types of sexual desires, and instead their instincts are more leaning towards violence, so bloodlust would be a type of lust for them, but this is just one of many interpretations, lmao. Have a good day/night again <3 I love your blog

Hello again! Thank you for the kind words and interest. Sorry this was delayed. My brain has been a struggle and I haven't much liked how writing my answers to this has gone. asdfghjkl I'm glad to hear you've had similar thoughts! I'd be very down to hear them. ouo

So I can only speak for my interpretation of his character. When it comes to sexuality with Mahito, I kind of lean in a similar way to how I described his gender. In which, it's a concept that isn't given much thought.

I am about to use the word 'sexual' a lot in here, lmao. Excuse me.

Curses in general, in how I perceive and write them (since I like writing the disaster curses as secondary characters, though that has mostly been on Discord at this time), aren't inherently sexual beings. Unless they were born from something indisputably sexual. But given curses can manifest in different ways despite what they are born from, I'm inclined to consider that even sexual ones may not act or look like what they are. Which I think is fitting, given how visuals and behaviors aren't always indicative of someone wanting sex.

Examples that come to mind: A curse born from the fear of sexual intimacy may appear alluring but carves out all sexual components (genitals, specifically) of their victims. Or a curse born from extreme lust could result in it appearing disfigured and being one that consumes humans to satiated his own hunger. Which we see some of these kinds of representations throughout different folklore and mythologies across the globe. I wouldn't be surprised to see curses who murder their victims but the scene is sexually charged. Similarly to human murderers or serial killers who are guided by some sort of sexual drive or reasoning.

I don't think curses, even sentient ones like the disaster crew, really perceives it. It makes sense for Mahito to come across it and consider it, given the type of curse he is. But the disasters (sounds like a band name lmao) are further removed from humans despite desiring to possess a status like they have. Because it's not about becoming like humans, but being recognized as a people. Equality - even if they have no desire to change their ways.

Mahito is far removed from humanity in a morality sense and by nature. He's his own doomed narrative of being so close to humanity that he can reach out and run his fingers along it but keeps running towards being something monstrous. He's never running from his emotions, he just has never experienced anything to trigger something beyond his usual boredom or amusement so he doesn't know what anything is like. Which is why his ending is so impactful, imo.

I think Mahito understands the concepts and sides plaguing humanity over sexuality (orientation and gender) but it's from an outside stance. He sees, observes, reads about, etc. but there is nothing there that applies directly to him - so he doesn't care. He isn't human, he doesn't need (or even want) to think like them. I wouldn't be surprised if his sexuality was as fluid as his gender. It's all based on convenience and curiosity, what he doesn't know about he'll look to discover answers to - provided it interests him.

I think getting other curses that don't have this curiosity drive would make it harder to get their interest in carnal things. It's more likely a deeper understanding could be formed with general intimacy and revealing shared similarities - since the disaster curses are bonded deeply on having an understanding of one another.

With Mahito I think he'd be more easy to persuade or gain the interest of. Sexual desires are just not a factor to him on the day to day, not a thought in his head on the matter. Not when he's so focused on his own growth. But if likes someone enough and they have his interest, he could be made curious on the matter. Whether by their prompting (easiest means, likely) or eventually coming into his own interest (potentially).

In regards to the bloodlust angle, I wouldn't be too surprised for that being a thing. I think it depends on the curse. Bloodlust is a type of lust, yes, but by definition that doesn't make it inherently sexual. Jogo's love for destroying humans and doing them harm is an example, or Hanami coming into full bloom when they ceased restraining themselves and had fun acting upon their bloodlust.

It comes across to me, especially by the disaster curses, that there's a higher chance of general intimacy to be found because they want to be understood and seen. Mahito doesn't necessarily care about that, which makes him all the more fickle. A sexual outcome with the disasters I feel like would be a slow burn, right? If it were to happen. But with Mahito, there's no predictions that can be made because it's entirely based on the dynamic he has with the other involved.

I don't mean dynamic as in trope, but the individual themselves. What he likes and dislikes, how he views them. If they ignite that attraction, if they propositioned him would he be interested enough based on who they are and the relationship involved? At the same time, it's possible something just clicks right across the board and there's less of a buildup.

Which could be the bloodlust angle you're bringing up. The thrill of a good fight, whether it's someone keeping up with him in combat or someone just surviving him exceptionally well (accounting here for sorcerers and humans who aren't combat leaning). Maybe things are vibing just right. Violence and sex are very often interwoven in terms of what the body experiences, or how it's perceived by humans on a philosophical level. I think Mahito would need a trigger of some kind to still get that into his head, though. He has no experience. He isn't even on the same level of a human virgin because the concept of virginity and sex wasn't even a thought bubble in his head. So he'd either have to know about sex and have that curiosity going into a scenario like that, or discover that idea during.

Oh, sorry, did he grab you a little too provocatively without realizing and you moaned? Did you just do something that made him make a god awful sound involuntarily?? That could be enough, sometimes. It definitely all just depends on the circumstances and how it unfolds, but I definitely think it's possible because he's absolute trash that would love that lmfao You have angles like: hate sex (whether it's nicer or meaner), fear of intimacy that he preys upon, harboring no trust in Mahito but sharing a mutual attraction that also applies to his nature.

I think the only issue with the bloodlust angle in general is remembering that these known curses by nature aren't born from anything sexual. Humans have those instincts in them by default because you know, breed to survive and all that. Base instincts, outside of aces of course (or aces that don't feel that at all, I know there are nuances there). So applying instincts to the equation won't work the same way here, in my opinion. Because Mahito's instincts are geared towards his core attributes and nature, followed by his interests that are more violent leaning. I feel like he's more-so restraining himself from causing violence than anything else so that he can keep himself entertained.

But! I think because he is a human born curse he stands a better chance at engaging with this side of humanity. On top of being curious and knowledge-seeking, if the right individual and circumstances present themselves he'd take the opportunity. Which means, while those instincts aren't inherently present within him - they can be awakened. In which case, good luck dealing with this new insufferable side of Mahito.

Thank you again for the ask! If I missed answering anything, let me know. You're always welcome to drop in and share your thoughts or ask things. ^^ <3 Have a lovely day/night yourself.

[sage-nebula]

I wish more people understood that Sega / Sonic Team carefully scrutinizes and approves every single issue of the IDW comics before they get printed and release, down to characters' facial expressions.

This isn't like the wild west of the 90s where people like Penders were allowed to do whatever they wanted. Scripts and storyboards are sent to Sega for approval multiple times for every issue. And the IDW team has to make the requested changes before it can print. One example that has been specifically mentioned was when Amy hugged Sonic in the "Chao Races and Badnik Bases" arc. Evan originally drew a little blush on Sonic's cheeks. Sega said "no" because Sonic doesn't show that much vulnerable emotion, and so Evan had to revise the panel to remove the blush. The oversight is that finite. Absolutely NOTHING gets put in the IDW comics that is against Sega or Sonic Team's ideas for their characters and brands. Like it or hate it, but that's simple fact.

So when you hear, "Sega wants to bring the comics and games (and potentially the shows) under the same canon umbrella" — yeah, it makes sense! Because while Sonic Team might not be crafting the comics themselves, they ARE overseeing their creation and are approving every story beat and facial expression contained within. They know exactly what is happening in the comics, are actively working to keep them in line with the current vision for the Sonic brand, etc. If they're working to keep them in line with their current vision for the games anyway, why NOT tie them all together? Especially when the comics have helped bring a new generation of kids to the franchise (similarly to how the movies did) while also being compliant with the games (unlike the movies). It just makes sense.

I understand that people who are perhaps more used to stories about what the Archie comics were like in the 90s might have reservations. But for good or for ill, the IDW comics are a completely different beast, despite having a lot of the same crew. I'm not saying Sega are overbearing evil overlords who don't let the IDW team have any fun (personally I think it's clear the team has a lot of fun working on the comics), because hell, they let a zombie pandemic arc happen. But I am saying that nothing that happens in the comics happens without Sega's express approval, right down to whether Sonic is allowed to blush when Amy hugs him or not. You still don't have to like the comics, everyone has different tastes and that's cool. But just know that the comics are Sega-approved panel by panel, so if you have an issue, take it up with them. Ultimately, they're the ones who get final say.

[yakool-foolio]

*coughs up a vague ditty about Lieu since I ended up writing about them for an exercise in my creative writing class*

[dreamyeyedrose]

Midnight Sky Blues

sometimes, instead of a person, instead of a being made of flesh and viscera, I feel like a speck of a speck gazing outwards like my entire tiny existence is behind the glass dome of a planetarium.

I hop up on the observation floor and peer out note down all that I can see with my 'scope sometimes it's a telescope, sometimes a microscope sometimes I can't tell the difference.

I observe all that goes on out there and then I hop off the scope, and I pace. and I ponder. and I think and I postulate but mostly I just....gaze up and out.

sometimes the glass above me might as well not exist, because sometimes I see great burning balls of fire and I worry about the flames raining down here other times I peer at a planet and see a lush green and dinosaur party favors, a kind of bliss I've only ever been able to see from here. and I'm viscerally aware that the glass works in the most spitefully impartial way.

sometimes I want to smash the glass above me break out of this scientific cave of misery float up to those planets I see and join in...

but stubborn and cold logic pipes up points out the risk of falling glass, how shortsighted and bloody it could all end up, and even if I break the glass I have no plan to rise through the stratosphere nor any plan to survive the vacuum of space

and on and on it goes, long after I've already dropped the subject.

even when I send communications out they're as polite as can be. I'm aware that telegrams and Morse code work best when the messages are short I still find myself sidestepping any desperate language even if it is the shortest.

I don't want anyone to worry too much. I'm safe behind this glass I reside behind. I'm bored and I'm lonely and I want to fly but I never tap out any messages asking for help, only pictures and descriptions of what they see of me.

[bigbugmonsters]

New guy, his name's Leaon.

His story, in short as possible, is that he's a colleague from your work, but he's mean and does nothing but snide comments at you. You quickly come to find he's an outcast among the other employees, but not because of his personality- it seems that the others never liked or listened to him. It also happens that, whenever you bring food for everyone to enjoy, it 'disappears', and Leaon's waist expands... You figure out what type of person he is, and decide to give him kindness and food despite his mean defense mechanism. You two get to eat together several times, and each time Leaon gets too full to move or leave, and gets a definitely chubby belly, that his shirt can barely cover anymore. Before the other employees notice and make fun of him, you decide to give him a unmistakably playful 'teasing' about his soft middle; and as you do so, you see it in his eyes- Leaon is not only hopelessly turned on, but he melts under your words. From then on, he wants to spend as much time as possible with you, and want you to tease him on getting bigger. When he reaches his goal weight, he gets extremely turned on by how big he is and is your new loving, not mean anymore, healed from rejection fat boyfriend.

[tariah23]

That TikTok of that ww groveling and going on about how she doesn’t care if you hate a book, give it 3 stars regardless because “writing is hard.”

https://x.com/cursedhive/status/1751012407814635526?s=46&t=cKo2jnMIiVKeu8vnu79EyQ

[silhouettecrow]

365 Days of Writing Prompts: Day 331

Adjective: Old-Fashioned

Noun: Posy

Definitions for those who need/want them:

Old-Fashioned: in or according to styles or types no longer current or common, or not modern; (of a person or their views) favoring traditional and usually restrictive styles, ideas, or customs

Posy: a small bunch of flowers; (archaic) a short motto or line of verse inscribed inside a ring

[constellationcrowned]

((I want everyone to keep something in mind in regards to this blog and this is going to sound like a general, common sense post (and in a way it is) but it's also hi I'm in your house, whispering into your ear, telling you to call ga//amestop and ask them if they have bat//tleto//ads---, blah blah, basically it's personal too:

With me, regardless of blog or content, both communication and engagement go hand in hand. Communication and engagement needs to go both ways.

I love posting and reblogging memes and calls and will continue to do so but you folks---old mutual or new mutual doesn't matter---need to take the initiative yourself sometimes too. Be enthusiastic. Be spontaneous. Be proactive. I don't want to ask people to write with me all of the damn time nor do I want to chase after people all of the time because if I have to do that constantly over and over again it starts feeling incredibly one sided even when it isn't (because ofc people have lives, specific interests, anxiety, and whatever else which are all things that I deal with myself and I understand how that can stop someone from doing something, but that's how it feels especially over an extended period of time) and I don't need to explain how disheartening and draining that can be.

My seeming to interact with only one person---and for both of my blogs it's @magioffire and we all know that---it's not because we're being stuck up, elitist or whatever inane and incorrect term people want to throw at our feet it's because we engage and communicate. The give and take between us (both from an ic and ooc standpoint) never feels imbalanced or even transactional (I really hate using that word but, again I gotta stress this, that's how this makes me feel) and I have never felt like I needed to chase them down for an interaction or had to fight for a scrap of their time---which feels like a feat bc Blair has a lot of people scrambling at their door---and I cannot tell you how huge that is. That sounds like a huge sweeping thing to say, I know, but I mean it in all of the little ways too. I could post some stupid bullshit on here; not a starter or a meme just a little random muse thought or observation, and 100% of the time here comes Blair telling me what they think or adding on to it or just...whatever. They're here for both me and my muses for the big and small things, whenever I've asked and, more often than not, when I haven't (or couldn't) and that's incredibly important. It's that kind of stuff that makes what we have special and that's putting it super lightly. And yes, our relationship both as friends and as writers has developed over a long time, and we did click immediately that's true, but there's never been any doubt to cast upon the work and effort both of us have put forth.

And this post isn't to say that I'm demanding constant or immediate attention from you all---because, again, we all have lives, health issues, etc, etc, and all of that takes precedence over a hobby as I've said before and will say again and again---but....put some effort into it when you have the capability. Yes, like the calls that I post or send a meme in, absolutely, but also message me on your own and ask a question or shoot a muse a random prompt or just @ me in a post. Show me some enthusiasm and engagement on your end because right now it feels like I'm doing all the work all of the time and that's tiring. I'm tired of handing stuff to people all of the time---I'll keep doing it, obviously, because I need and want to engage on my end and love throwing stuff at people and providing opportunities---all I'm asking for is understanding and reciprocation.

If you can't reciprocate for whatever reason? Tell me.

If you're unsure about something, no matter what that something is? Tell me.

If you need help or even a specific kind of accommodation in order for us to start interacting or continue interacting? Tell me.

Don't just assume that I don't want to write with you or that you can't ask me for things. Don't assume that I'm being a snob or whatever else just because I seem to be paying attention to a certain mun full time because do you know what that actually is? That's friendship. That's effort. That's me giving back what I've been given. That's me reciprocating the enthusiasm, love and creativity that I've been handed, nothing more. There's nothing unobtainable or gatekeep-y about that either, you just need to be earnest and forthcoming with me and I can assure you that I'll return the favor in kind.))