#did it take me days to read the comments and tags and open my inbox? yes

[chasedeys]

i can't link it but I'm still thinking about your tags on the post about ja'marr reassuring evan that he'll be there for him no matter what 🥺 and how ja'marr's comments always get taken out of context and made to seem worse. and how ja'marr seemed to take a dig at evan in that post-game interview, but did he mean it like that?? or was he just saying shit frustrated after a loss! and i'm thinking about ja'marr maybe seeing that going around, seeing what people are implying. and how he DOES love evan, how that's been his guy since they were rookies together almost 4 years ago! and like!! do we think he went out of his way to reassure evan this week, because he didn't want him thinking that he's just throwing that friendship away after a few bad games (we KNOW how much friendships mean to ja'marr 😭)

anyway. just felt like yapping in your inbox. have a lovely day <3

:((((((( as you can see i got incredibly into my feelings regarding the whole ja'marr and evan thing 😭

i can't even begin to figure out why he replied the evan question with the big bucks thing sigh. his face when they mentioned the two missed kicked goals :(((( man was most definitely beyond pissed at himself and the entire play-calling and missed fgs and defense etc that he actually called out the play-calling and getting asked about the missed fgs probably pissed him off even more 😭 like 'yeah evan did miss those kicks fuck' and maybe reminded that evan did get extended ahead of him (probably got brought up during the discussions with the fo tbh) and his mouth ran faster than his brain or he just didn't even bother thinking about it at all because he was so pissed that he just blurted it out.

i highly doubt he meant it as cruelly as people think he did though. he's just the type of person to be straight up when you're playing shit (proven btw with him needling evan's missed kicks that one mic'ed up training moment). he loves evan, they were THE 2021 rookies extraordinaire who were undeniably one of the main reasons they made it to the super bowl! he knows exactly what evan is capable of, 'he knows to make those kicks', mentioning he got paid could also possibly be a reminder to everyone that they did extend him for a reason!! that he's proven many times before he's clutch, the amount of times he's won them important games from his game-winning kicks!! but again this is all speculation who knows what goes on inside ja'marr's head and i don't actually know him lmao.

no idea if evan approached ja'marr or the other way around but it's nice to read that they did talk after the entire shitshow!! ja'marr throwing his full support for evan :(( 'have the sort of relationship where they’re comfortable needling each other about mistakes' very obviously having joked around before on their mistakes but the one last week seemed to have broke their little friendship bubble and taken to the fucking grinder by the public so they had to do some good old fashioned reassurance. the way evan said ja'marr said would always be there for him 😭 oh shut up that's cute as hell.

ja'marr complicated mess of a man with big feelings and incapable of keeping his mouth shut at times 😔 i think ja'marr is just....incredibly blunt with his words 😭 had like 6 mandatory pr training in his life and walked away with nothing but 'don't cuss in front of the cameras so help me' and even then his impulse control is....shit.....and probably learned more from real life experiences than any actual trainings. (incredibly cute when he fails to keep his mouth clean though like that time when he cursed about d-lines shit cleats (look at tee's face at ja'marr's little oop and look around!!!!) or that 'always open' comment where he followed up with 'excuse my profanity' (incredibly attractive tbh))

and it just pissesss meee offfffff when his locker room quotes post loss (when he's in his feelings, when he's trying to defend himself, when they're obviously baiting him for a shitty soundbite to get taken out of context when he's never fully mastered how to pr talk and probably never will) gets clipped and shared around all these sports accounts and gets added clickbait captions that just make him seem like a shit teammate or a shit friend or a shit player who is just unsportsmanlike?? and when his thursday (??friday???) solo pressers gets clipped and posted they comment shit like 'i didn't know he was so funny' or 'never seen him smiling like this' or 'surprised he isn't bitching about something' like excuse me?? that's from the narrative you 🫵 put out yourselves 😭😭 so it's a good thing he has those pressers and gets asked these light hearted questions where he can joke around with the reporters who aren't hounding him after a shitty loss!!

and he's always been so blunt with words, words things in ways that can be taken out of context very easily by the public (its just who he is as a person okay 😭 like look at all those quotes about joe...) and the only way to stop people from running with the shit he says at times is basically to just lie his ass off (bless him. though the madden lies still confuse me. i think he just forgot tbh.) or just say 'i don't know' and clamp up (good on him tbh. do you think he's ever gonna have a little 'im here so i dont get fined' marshawn lynch moment). essentially though it's very much a ja'marr chase get behind me 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 kind of deal for me <3

and i mentioned malik (the qrt askfjkjfj truly fascinating how nearly all star wr1s are like this tbh) lmao people have commented absolute crap about him taking lessons from ja'marr in a very much /derogatory way but let me take things from a way more lighthearted point of view and say wow 😭😭 that's exactly a ja'marr fucking chase locker room interview special /full of love and joy and fondness. the gum chewing, the 'i don't knows', telling them to ask his coach, the absolute terrible choice of words 😭😭😭 my fondness for malik nabers has gone exponentially up i fear. he didn't even walk his shit back after this on his next interviews!! adore him <3

and thank you!!!!! i had a lovely day of voting mayoral elections and sleeping all day lol. i hope you have a lovely day too 🥰🫶

[icarusredwings]

i’ve already expressed how much your agere! headcanon means to me in the tags lol, but i also wanna add that you just write it really well. i stopped reading age regression fics a LONG time ago because they felt really cringey or unrealistic, but the way you’ve written it feels natural but over the top in just the right ways for Wade. It doesn’t feel fetishized at all or like that’s all he is, and it’s really nice to see it to be taken seriously in a fic setting. So thank you 😅🙏🏻

Thank you, and I did read all of that by the way, I didn't want to upset you by responding but wasn't sure if ti would be creepy to inbox you or not about it. I fully understand though and Honestly am semi in the same boat? The first step is definitely taking care of yourself and I think you have something to be proud of because you did it :)

I don't think there's anything to worry about and that's the great thing is being able to do it at your own pace and when its time, label it. if you don't want too then don't. What ever you are comfortable with because at the end of the day its for YOU.

I have two more request slots open by the way!

Yes, I found it unrealistic too especially when everything is perfect and its barley ever related back to the characters trauma rather then "Lol I'm baby, goo goo ga ga, Nothing I do has consequences apparently because 'im daddy's favorite baby girl' also I just ripped off my nappy and wet the carpet" ????? Im not kidding There is genuine things written like this. And its not satire? It feels unserious and more of a mocking or joking thing then actually helping the Charater?? if that makes sense?

Anyway- Yeah I've gotten this comment a lot that most of the stuff written is flat out fetishization or is cringy in the sense of being not thought out so it sounds soooo weird. (Again- more fetishization, Especially with the excessive ageplay ones where they're literally pretending they cant walk yet.. sexual stuff.. it's definitely not for me.)

Ive said it before but Ill say it again. What people do in their bedroom with consent is not my buisness, maybe that stuff does help some people? maybe they are just inexperienced writers and I'm misunderstanding something? Either way- Im not judging, I just wish there wasn't so many sexual innuendos in the SFW ones. like.. huh? That's the point of SFW right?

Another thing I do when writing these is I think of actual littles reading these and I think about what is going to make them happy/ feel understood and seen as someone trying to heal rather then as a massive joke.

Look- As my therapists funniest patient- Truama can be hella funny but I feel having Agere as the butt of a joke is just.. wrong.

[autismswagsummit]

FAQ - Please read before consulting the askbox! (Warning, moderately long post)

--------------------------------------

When is the next poll?

Upcoming/ongoing rounds will always be marked on the pinned post! Any dates will be stated clearly there, and all active polls will be linked as such.

When are the polls in terms of time?

What is the Wheel of Doom?

All polls go live at Noon, Central Standard Time. Polls are all 24 hours long (save for the Finals), so they last from Noon of the first day to Noon of the following day.

How do I nominate a character/how do I vote?

The Wheel of Doom is the functional "redemption round" for the major tournament. After every main bracket round the Wheel of Doom returns, and after every round has concluded the final winner goes on to participate in the Grand Finals.

What am I voting on?

Regardless of if it's the main bracket or the Wheel or Doom, you are voting on your favorite Autistic character or headcanon. The metric of "autism swag" does not exist, but feel free to discuss it regardless.

If nominations are open, there will be a post with an active link to a Google Form in which you can submit your characters. All official voting is handled through Tumblr Polls. Nominations or votes sent in through the askbox or via post comments are disregarded.

Will the nomination spreadsheet ever go public?

Probably not! Mostly to preserve the privacy of anyone who linked to their accounts with essays and such, and wouldn't appreciate potentially hundreds of eyes on their stuff. Sorry!

Who are you rooting for/who do you want to win?

Nobody, at least not while the polls are ongoing! As a general rule I try not to influence the results of the polls too much, so if anyone asks this during an active poll there is a good chance it will be ignored. After, though, feel free to ask!

I think there's voter fraud/misconduct occurring, what do I do?

This may sound harsh, but without concrete evidence of voter fraud there is very little if not nothing I can do about it fairly. If there is no evidence/only speculative evidence, I request you keep it to yourself as to not fill my inbox with unactionable accusations.

What happens if there's a tie?

In the event of a tie, a character (or characters) who did not make it to the base bracket will be introduced as a tiebreaker. In the event the tiebreaker character happens to win, they will of course proceed in the competition. Following a precedent set in the 2023 summit, tiebreaker winners on the Wheel of Doom will not be granted a "second life" in the event that they lose.

I made propaganda (artwork, edits, fanfiction or otherwise unmentioned pieces dedicated towards the tournament), what do I do?

Ping me in it! I truly love looking at all your work, and I appreciate that people take the time and effort to make fan pieces for this. If you wish for it to be reblogged, remember to tag @autismswagreblogs for archival purposes.

Will you do another season/side round/etc?

Maybe! Depends on if I feel like it or not.

[jolalibrary]

Hey there, I truly admire your openness about your anxiety, and I was wondering if you could offer any tips or techniques that have helped you, especially in the context of being active on this platform. Love your work!

tw: anxiety

hi anon! thank you so much, that's really nice of you. i deffo think i could be more open about it, but it's nice that I've been able to be open enough for you to reach out. i'm sorry it took me a day or two to get back to you, i just wanted to make sure i thought up/over things so i was being as helpful as possible! it's important for me to stress that my situation and my anxiety isn't going to be like everyone else's, and how i cope with it isn't like the "go to". but here are some things that help me (i am not claiming that any of these i came up):

creating a rainy day folder: bad days are a thing for everyone, but i know what things put me in a "stormier" frame of mind, and what i'm critical about. so, when things make me smile (comments, nice reblogs, tags, inbox, dms) i screenshot them and pop them in this folder. and when i need an extra boost (or some proof to fire back at my brain that it's wrong) i spend a bit of time in there. as it's me, it's highly organised HA! but, it deffo helps having the folder, and its reminded me, at times, why i love what i do here.

celebrate with cake: i'm a high-functioning person, who has super low self-esteem. for a good portion of my life (an embarrassingly large portion, honestly) good accomplishments were not celebrated. so, now i make a point to celebrate certain things with food (or books, if I'm reading a lot). one thing I've learnt with my anxiety is that it's easy to get into a cycle, and one way of breaking this is to stop and take the time to realise the milestones I've accomplished or how far I've come. just the other day, i took a walk to the shop and grabbed myself a chocolate bar. a year ago, i wouldn't have felt comfortable doing that by myself. and it's important to recognise those achievements when you've had a hard time. i also recommend everyone gets themselves cake when they finish a series (it's the rules, i swear).

learn about yourself: i'm going to be brutally honest and hope this doesn't bite me on the arse, but there are a lot of times i don't really like myself? i don't see the value i offer, i feel like i let people down, etc etc. it used to be worse, and one of the ways that helped me go from every day i didn't like myself to occasionally disliked myself, is by educating myself on me. I've spent a lot of time making myself small to fit in, I've done things others are into so i fit in to the point i wasn't sure who i was. so, when i had a menty-b (the name i call it), i sat with myself and learnt what i liked. music. movies. clothing. passions. hobbies. i have always written, but i wasn't necessarily writing things i loved. so, i changed it. i dated myself (a term lots of people use). i told my husband i was going to spend Friday nights with myself, and i did something i wanted to do. on my own. and in time, that helped with my anxious feelings and my fears about being online. because i spend a lot of time worrying about what people think, but by dating myself i could learn nice things about me - and that way, had things i could tell myself i knew were true: that i'm actually very nice, kind and really funny. it might not making pressing 'post" easier, but i can hold my chin a little higher?

set yourself a goal of happiness: we're all motivated by different things. sometimes, we make a mental goal to ourselves and it becomes blurred and distorted in numbers. but, if your anxiety (like mine) likes to have a thing to measure itself against, choose something that isn't numbers based, but happiness based. did someone tell you this month that your writing/art/gifs made their day? did something you say make them feel better? it's hard, it really is, and i know there will be people reading this and scoffing, but truthfully, one person telling me something i wrote made their day is all a jo really fucking wants. because i'm going to write regardless, it's a choice i make to share it. so, while i gave examples above, that isn't my current goal, but it was a goal i had, and as long as i try to remind myself of that it helps.

which leads me into, try to stay away from the numbers game which i know is hard. but it does nothing for an anxious mind. like, it's a fickle thing. moods change. don't base your worth on a number, you matter far more than it.

accept it's a part of you: this one is more about me, but since you're asking me i thought this is probably allowed. i have a long-term anxiety disorder - which took a long time to get diagnosed - and i have some other little... things that come with that. and for a long time, i felt broken. but, i was reading a self-help book (because your girl loves reading books about brains) and i realised that i have anxiety. it is already part of me. so i need to work with it. anxiety isn\t nice, it's not kind and it's really annoying. but it also makes me empathetic, it makes me care about the work i do (both here and in my day to day life), or makes me compassionate. whether you have it short term or long term, sometimes it's better to accept it's there, acknowledge it, but DON'T FEED IT. have the worries, and then halt them, tell them no. I've found fighting it before I've got the strength doesn't help me. but, waking up, knowing it's there, nodding at it helps keep it in check. this might not make any sense, but, you know.

and finally, the one i'm still working on is: i cannot fix everything and this is fun, so i need to ensure it stays that way for me. which i know isn't really a tip. but it's a good thing to remember. i am one person, it is not on me to check on every single person. it isn't on me to read every single thing. i don't have to engage with things i don't agree with, i don't have to say all my opinions. i can change fandoms. i can not post for a day/week/month. and all i have to do, if i want to, is offer my absolute best. that's it. it's hard. and it's tough to swallow. but sometimes, a jo just needs to be jo.

i am not sure if my rambling has been helpful, but i thought i could list these: plot your fic, find a buddy to talk about things with, surround yourself with good people. but I've said all of these. but the above are things i can do by myself. they are things i can control. and with anxiety, we're all just looking for the things we can manage, and so i based the list in that way. thank you for coming to my jo-talk, i'm going to go hide from being so vulnerable.

[shanie]

Ten Questions for Writers 

  Tagged by the wonderful @afterdarkprincess! THANKS! 

  How many works do you have on AO3? 50. Big 50. 

What's your total AO3 word count? 473,524. Huh. More than I thought. 

What fandoms do you write for? Professional Wrestling, either WWE or 2000’s Indies stuff (for the Generico!verse) 

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Sometimes it takes me a bit but I love to respond to comments. I love the detailed comments the most that I can really sink my teeth into and share my insights with. But even people who don’t comment on AO3, my inbox is always open if you want to rant about stuff there! 

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not technically, but I did have one read on a podcast once during the LiveJournal days (Apologies) that they recorded the episode, THEN asked permission to air it, so it’s sort of a little shady. 

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Never co-written, but I did write a sequel to someone else’s fic once. 

What's your all-time favourite ship? You would think Zowens, but no, not lately. Lately I’ve been far more into Steenerico. As much as I love Zowens, I feel like... how should I say this, there’s so much that’s already been done for Zowens. Zowens at this point really does feel like a 20 year domestic marriage. Especially with the tag run. Not that I don’t enjoy it, and I also enjoy Samijey, but for me, exploring the possibilities of a world where Steenerico is REAL, and also, NEVER ENDED, is so much meatier. The storylines of the indies aren’t nearly as in depth, so there’s so much more empty space in the sandbox to build sandcastles in, while still leaving it ostensibly canon compliant.    I dunno, Steenerico just feels like there’s more room to explore the universe for me. But I do still love Zowens. 

BTW: Full confession, due to my regional accent, when I say "Steenerico" out loud, it comes out "Stinerico". I'm aware that's wrong, but it's a thing with the dialect here that you sometimes transfer "EE" sounds into "IH" sounds if you use the word enough. We also say the word "Creek" as "Crick", since there's a ton of those around here.

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue. By far. My best writing is almost always discussion between two or more characters. 

What are your writing weaknesses? Setting the scene. As in, literal scenery. I’m one of those people who you will know everything that goes through a character’s mind and out of their mouth, but you usually will have no clue where they are while they are saying it. Whoops. 

First fandom you wrote for? WWF! As in, before WWE. I was writing wrestling fanfic in my late teens during the Attitude Era. I left the wrestling fandom around 2004 or so, and wrote other fanfic starting again around 2011-12 or so, when I first got to Tumblr. But I only started writing full force again in 2019, and it was right back to wrestling.    Have never looked back since. 

Anyway, I don’t know who all has been tagged in this so far or not, so if you feel like doing this, go ahead. I’m always late to the party on these, so who knows!  ETA: Tagging my beloved @imabillyami. I'm sorry I didn't the first time. I love you and I love your writing. Hope that next part of IGYTL is going well.

[askinkiskarma]

Hello!! Just want to stop by and say, you're one of my favorite writers here and I really adore your stories ⁀ᗢ⁀ I've interacted with you before and you're one of the kindest person around (ꈍᴗꈍ)

Do you mind if I ask something? I'm planning to start writing for the fandom, do you have any tips for starting a blog? Thank you! Hope you have a nice day/night ^^

You would be one of the first writer I would like to follow once I started ٩(＾◡＾)۶

hi bb xx that is so so sweet, omg i'm gonna cry :(( i'm so excited that you want to start writing, i love having new mooties and reading new stories for the fandom. i have been asked this before, and as far as advice goes, i will just probably reiterate the same points x

first off, i think the best piece of advice i can give you to start is to just do it. it took me a long time of thinking and debating whether i should do it, and i regret waiting as long as i did, considering i could have gotten a lot more engagement and built my amazing little community faster if i just faced my fears and posted my first piece sooner. so whatever you have written, or you're inspired to write, just go for it!! i'd love to read it and i'm sure a lot of other people would, and pls do tag me in anything you write xx

try to look at blogs you like and how they format their fics, a lot of the times the formatting/header/title can make or break a fic bc it's the first thing people see and if it doesn't catch their eye, or it's too confusing/complicated, people might not even give it a chance

put the proper warnings, it's better to be generous with the warnings than not put enough (trust me i've learnt the hard way), use the read more so the fic doesn't take too much space on the dash and it also makes people more intrigued to read it imo

tag things properly (only with the main character, if you have oc don't tag it with x reader, if it's a neteyam story, don't tag lo'ak, stuff lke that), which also makes your story appear in the tag and get more interaction

finally, interact with people, send them asks, leave them nice comments, reblog their stuff, which helps you get out there and reach more people as well and also make friends xx

hope this helped, and pls know my inbox is always open xx smooches and good luck!!

[withahappyrefrain]

have you ever felt so tired you can't even comprehend why exactly you're tired?? Like, it could be 27 things at the same time or just one thing but you literally can't pin point it so you can fix it!! That's me rn

And it's eating me up and it's ruining the only current source of happiness I have, which us tumblr. I could have the shittiest day but whenever I open tumblr and see what my favorite writers have been up to I just relax

And I love commenting on their posts, and interacting with my mutuals and reblogging every fucking chapter of a series I decided to binge read-- but now... I'm just so so tired I can't even enjoy it properly

Because it won't be the same yk? How will I give my thoughts on this awesome fic I'm sure this writer worked hard for and spent countless hours of their day perfecting it so it could be posted-- when I'm so tired? I feel like I'm betraying them😭 bc I wanna comment, I don't just wanna like it or just reblog it with tags only and nothing else (which is ok too), but I can't bring myself to have the same excitement I usually have bc I'm soooo burnt out

I probably sound kinda dramatic about this but reading fics is so important to me :( it's my comfort zone. And when I can't give love to my beloved writers while being this tired I feel bad. You know??

Ugh I just love this little tgm community I fell into, but I'm so tired and overworked I can't even enjoy it properly arrrrghhhh it's so frustrating

And now I have so little time to actually sit down and open tumblr and just enjoy being here. You're telling me I actually have to live my life instead of spending the day talking to these wonderful people I met online that live in multiple other countries in other time zones??? SJNSKSKSKSK *sobs*

Hi there!

I understand how you feel and I've been slowly getting out of that hole too. What I did that helped was a) talking to my doctor and increasing my anxiety medication and b) I began reading shorter fics to help build my brain back up. I accepted that at that time, I couldn't do long series. And I told my friends this and they understood!

So you can do that. You can also always give writers a shout-out or compliment or thank you in their inbox!!!

But you also have to take care of yourself too! I know what it's like to be in a funk, and I'm still kinda in one. I wish I could give you a proper hug ❤️❤️❤️

[songsofadelaide]

Hello, friends! I'm Mari. 💛 Not my real name, but something close enough to it. I'm a 30-something Taurus Sun, INFJ and modern-day Filipina. When I'm not busy at work or hanging out with my fiancé, I write fics from time to time. You can trust me to be a big sister figure of sorts. My inbox is always open for a chat, so do feel free to drop me a message about anything under the sun. 🌻

This is a multifandom blog and I mostly write canon x (f) reader things, as well as the occasional otp stuff.

I mostly read and write for JJK, especially Gojo, but you'll find I have other interests here as well. 💛 I also have prompts I may or may not get back to, depending on the inspiration.

I started writing fics in FF.Net back in 2007 and eventually had to pause from writing when I started college. I rediscovered the joys of writing fics once more back in 2019 and thus created my AO3 account to share my works. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. 💛

My fic reading account: 🍂 Mari reads ₊˚ʚ₊˚✧ ﾟ. My side blog: 🌺 Mari's wonderland (If you find me online, I'm probably just reblogging stuff here!)

💛 20 writing questions I've answered, in case you're interested in my writing process. 💛 more of my thoughts about writing.

My other tags: ✦ #mari thoughts oh how dangerous 🐻 - random musings ✦ #mari's diary 🎀 - personal photo posts ✦ #mari reblogs 💽 - reblogs and things I find relatable ✦ #mari's ocs ⚜️ - OC guides for some of my fics ✦ #love notes to mari 💌 - kind messages from followers, mutuals, anons, etc ✦ #mari answers requests 🍹 - requests and prompts I have answered ✦ #mari's ask games 🦋 - when I get tagged in ask games, etc

And some reminders while you're here. ✦ I don't really have any byf rules since most of my work is generally sfw, but I do my best to tag things appropriately. I block rude people. ✦ You're free to drop requests, though I reserve the right to decide whether or not it's something I will write. I prefer writing with creative freedom, so you'll have to forgive me for not writing based on your specifications. Please also expect that it may take a while for me to get to them since I'm balancing every aspect of my life accordingly. (Requests are closed at present. Thank you for your kind understanding!) ✦ This is a secondary blog, so you'll see me interacting here as songsofadelaide-archive (my main blog). I did a little stupid and thought I could switch them out, but it turns out I cannot. I am more active here than there, though! ✦ You can tune out my random musings by muting this tag - #mari thoughts oh how dangerous 🐻. Otherwise, welcome to my silly little brain lol! ✦ Please don't copy, plagiarise, or use my works to train AI. Please do not repost them to any other social media platforms. Your likes, replies, comments, and reblogs are always a delight to receive! 💛 Much love! ~ Mari / SongsOfAdelaide ♡

✦ Mari's Masterlist ✦ Fic Masterlist ✦ Mari's Prompts ✦ AO3 ✦

[earthtooz]

ok so, i thought i was done talking about 'kiss me' in the tags but apparently I AM NOT

(also it might be my the first time in your inbox so hi! :))

first of all, the way you wrote the kissing scenes was SO GOOD. I said it in the tags but writing it in a way that is descriptive enough to let the reader know what's going on, but not too much to take the momentum out of it is a task i have yet to master, but you did it so well!

I'm also always a sucker for the whole - oh well if we don't want to be discovered i guess we just HAVE to make out as a cover -wait why is this kind of good and WHY is my heart beating so fast? -

the kiss behind the ear was also a personal favourite (and the hand kiss with eye contact?! the sluttiest thing a regency era man can do, abut it works WONDERFULLY well in this context)

i also really like that you didn't make the insecurity about the way the character looked in general, bit rather about how the outfit looked on them!

i hope you have a good day!

#i tried looking up when handkisses became a thing but couldnt find any concrete dates idk if regency era is correct SORRY

HELP, PLS CONTINUE, I AM ENABLING U IN UR RAMBLES !!!

(also, hi!! welcome to my inbox :D hope u had a lovely time typing up this ask!) i'm going to put a read more for this post bc it's gonna be rly long and i don't wanna block up ppl's dashes more than i already do <3

THANK YOU!!!!!!!! ugh your reassurance that i had a good balance of emotional and descriptive blurbs is really gratifying because u know what i spent majority of my time doing. PANICKING IF I WAS GOING TOO OVERBOARD ON THE DESCRIPTION OR EMOTION?!??!?! i also spent a good time pondering my word choice so the fact that you can read it clearly and it's not a bother makes me vvvv relieved.

YES the first kiss- imma be honest i had NO idea why i got the inclination to start a damn fic like that but hey, i did, and nothing could stop me ig. the kiss behind the ear was personal, i have to agree bc it... was really personal for me... it was for me okay... i wrote that part for myself... and the hand kissing part, hand kisses are my fav.

and (grown-up) bakugou is a slut so indeed, i had to make him do the, as you said: SLUTTY REGENCY MAN THING. but thank u! i'm glad u liked how i incorporated it!!!

the insecurity part was something i had to tread really lightly because i really didn't want to make it sound like reader was criticising aspects of themselves that might make it personal for a lot of people. the last thing i want is for people to feel uncomfortable with my fic, and more important, uncomfortable in their own body bc everyone is genuinely gorgeous - unless you're mean and have an ugly heart then... not so much. also since i write gn!readers, i also need to be careful about how i'm talking about the outfit so that anyone who reads it can put their own perceptions on it 😭 i don't want m!readers to read that they're wearing a dress and grow uncomfortable during the fic- that's my worst nightmare 😭 so in short: i'm glad that the whole outfit scene reached across as how you perceived it; a comment on the outfit rather than the person!

thank you for popping into my inbox, friend. feel free to talk to me again, no matter if it's just random bs you'd like to say, i'm open to hear (almost) everything- esp since you're so nice 😣😣😣😣😣 you have a lovely day too!!!!!

[anathemafiction]

I just wanted to pop in and say I’m so proud that you were so focused and intent on finishing everything and got it all done! Please take time to take care of yourself and relax because you absolutely deserve it!! ❤️

Thank you so much!!! And thank you, also, everyone who left a comment on the submission post. I can't tag you all individually, but I appreciate it so much, plus all the tags on the reblogs!!!

It's just so humbling and amazing how so many people seem as excited for this book as I am! It means the whole world, so thank you again, and I'm sorry for being so repetitive, but there are no other words in this language that can even begin to translate what I'm feeling. Thus a simple and inefficient thank you has to suffice.

I have learned a lot in these last few months. A lot. I can tell you that I'll be doing things very differently for book 2. But, I suppose, that's the only way to really learn: you do, and you make errors, and you're forced to learn from them.

I know that the last stages before submitting the game have been bumpy at best, and it seemed that I was dragging and dragging and finding new issues every step of the way. I did the beta testing way too early and presented what I now considered not only an incomplete game but also an unpolished, almost first-draft mess to a lovely bunch of people who volunteered to help me.

I kept the game for myself for too long and thus skipped over problems that should have been blatantly obvious. I also ignored coding issues for way longer than I should have - because I was scared of them.

All in all, writing is fun. It's what I like to do, but it turns out that making an interactive novel takes way more than just putting a pencil to paper and letting your imagination run to where it wants. Sometimes, you need to rein it in, control it, shape it, change it, delete it, expand it, and then prance it around a group of strangers that will analyze it with fresh eyes and new thoughts, and it's scary, but oh so very necessary.

I've also learned, and I know how crazy this seems, but I learned the value of a proper outline. I'm a very spontaneous kind of writer, things usually just come to me, and I go along with them. Most of my stories start with an image, like the ocean foam on the side of a small fishing boat, or a smell, like freshly cut grass on a field littered with scarecrows, or a dialogue, like a mother saying goodbye to her mother through a gold-encrusted mirror. The Rose started with an image too, and I went along with it.

But a novel, and a series especially, needs more than that. I know the main plot by heart, and I know where I want to go, but the in-between I like to keep vague. Vague is good, but it can't be so foggy that it hides what's three steps ahead of me. So, for Book 2, I'll do what I never did: I'll make an outline of the entire book before starting to write it. Revolutionary, I know. 😄

I'm sure I'll change and add a lot of things as I'm writing, but I have the outline in my head - except a few parts - and I can already tell that is going to help a lot. It will probably mean I'll write faster too.

I also want to have a group of testers that I send the chapters as I write them so that I can immediately get essential feedback. Additionally, I'll edit the chapters as I'm writing- not leave everything for last! Because god, this editing phase almost killed me, and I have an inkling that Book 2 will be even bigger than Book 1. I know exactly where I want to stop, and I don't care how many words it'll take me to get there, I'll reach that point.

Oof, this post is way too big already. I'm sorry for going on a tangent! All this to say: It has been a long journey, but I've enjoyed it very much. I know there hasn't been any new content for months, and I even shortened the demo significantly - it stops at the point where the free trial will end in the published game. To be honest, it's hard to believe people are not only following this blog, but I'm gaining new followers as well - I feel like it's underserved, but I am very grateful.

I can't wait for you all to read the game!! And I can only hope you'll stick around for the rest of the journey. ♡

[harringtonstilinski]

It’s A Date - Steve Harrington (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Steve Harrington x Henderson!Reader Word Count: 3,530 Warnings: ST4 spoilers, fluff, little bit of angst  Smut: car sex between m+f, mutual masturbation Requested: Nope. Based off a prompt from this list A/N: Hi, friends! Of course, my first Steve Harrington fic is a smut piece, haha! This contains spoilers for S4, so if you haven’t watched it already, pls do not read. If you have any requests for our mom of 6, my askbox is open for requests. I might overuse the gif below because hotdamn🥵!!! Anyways, I hope you like this little piece! If you do, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

“Dusty! Hurry up, you’re gonna be late!” 

Do you know how many times a week I hear that? Five. Five days a week! All because my brother is still in his room, doing God knows what!

Upon hearing Mom’s voice calling his name again, I pulled the covers off my body and got out of bed. Opening my bedroom door, I glared at Dustin’s. I walked over to it and opened it up. “If you don’t hurry the hell up, I’m gonna drag you out of here by your hair. Got that, dipshit?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, getting up from his desk chair. “I was talking to Suzie.” 

Confused, I asked, “Why?”

“None of your business. Besides, aren’t you late for work?”

Facial expression going serious, I asked, “What time is it?” before going back to my room to look at my clock. “Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Keith is gonna kill me.”

I quickly changed my shirt and brushed my hair out. Since I had a phone in my room, I called up Family Video. As it rang, I searched for my jeans that I thought were on the floor. They ended up being on my vanity chair. 

“Family Video.”

“Steve? Holy shit, thank you for answering.”

“Y/N? Aren’t you supposed to be here by now?”

Resting the phone between my ear and shoulder, I pulled my shorts down and began putting my jeans on. “That’s why I’m calling. I apparently overslept and somebody was supposed to come pick me up.”

“I was? Damn, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine. Cover for me until I get there?”

“What should I tell Keith?”

“Lost track of time running an errand?” I heard Dustin’s voice and got another idea… well, excuse. “I had to wait for Dustin ‘cause Mom needed me to take him to school. It’s also a perfect excuse for me to use the car today.”

“Has anyone seen Y/N?” I heard Keith asked.

“I’m on the phone with her now. She has to wait for her little brother so that she can take him to school.”

Silence. I stopped zipping and buttoning my jeans to hear what else Keith had to say. After a few more seconds of silence, I whispered, “Am I in the clear?”

“Not in the slightest,” Keith answered. “If you’re late again, you’re fired.”

“R-roger that.” I hung up after that, quickly zipping and buttoning my jeans before grabbing my vest with my name tag attached. I went to the kitchen, seeing Mom standing at the sink. “Can I borrow the car?”

“What for?”

Looking around to find the clock I knew was there, I spotted Dustin about to walk out the door. Quickly turning my head back to my mom, I said, “Dustin asked me to take him to school.”

“No, I didn't,” said boy responded, confused.

“Last night, you did.”

“Before you two start up, yes, you can borrow the car,” Mom said.

“Thank you,” I said, kissing her cheek. “I love you! I’ll be safe!” Walking towards Dustin, I said, “Your ass owes me.”

~~~

10:30AM. Only 30 minutes late for work. It took me all of 15 mins to get Dustin to school and myself to work. Did I go over the speed limit? Maybe. Was I driving like I didn’t care about the speed limit? Maybe. I mean, I didn’t get pulled over or anything, so I’m good!

Once I walked in the video store, I was met by Keith at the front counter. “You’re late.”

“Yes, I’m aware. Thank you. We’ve already established this,” I answered. I walked around the counter and straight to the back to set my stuff down and clock in. Once that was done, I immediately got to work on putting away the tapes people had returned.

“And then Vickie laughed,” I heard Robin say. I peaked out from one of the aisles to listen in on her conversation with Steve. “And it wasn’t like a cheap, fake laugh, either. It was like…”

I moved out of the aisle, knowing that she had to be at the basketball game the night before. “It was genuine, right?” 

She looked at me and smiled a little. “Yeah. It was.”

“I remember when I used to make someone laugh genuinely,” I said, looking in Steve’s direction.

Oh, I almost forgot to tell you. Steve and I dated for about a year. We got together the night he fought the demodogs, and then we broke up right before I was supposed to leave for school. Yes, my feelings are still there. Are they still there for him? I’m not sure. Anyway.

I went back to putting the movies back up, and before I knew it, about 15 minutes had gone by. Sitting down behind the front counter, I watched the movie that was playing; Doctor Zhivago. Don’t ask. Robin put it on. A body sat down next to me.

“Ya’know, if I’m utterly and totally right, I would say that Steve still has mad feelings for you.”

I looked over Robin, giving her a face of… well, curiosity. I looked back at the tv, crossing my arms. “Yeah, I’m not so sure.”

“Hey, guys, check this out,” Steve said, turning the tv behind the counter on.

Robin and I both moved to the front of the counter; Robin sitting in a chair, me sitting on the counter, and Steve standing. I was in the middle. What was on the television disturbed me; a teenager from Hawkins High was killed. 

My first thought was, “Dustin.” I hadn’t realized that I said his name aloud until I felt an arm around me, the hand attached rubbing my left arm up and down.

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Steve said.

“Better be,” I said, tearfully. “Or else I’m gonna revive him and kill him myself.” Hearing the front door open, I quickly gathered myself, but was shocked when I heard a voice say, “Hey, Steve.”

I turned around so fast, I thought I gave myself whiplash. “Oh, thank fuck.”

“You see this?” Steve asked.

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin asked, Max right on his tail.

“Someone was murdered.”

“How many phones do you have?” Dustin enunciated.

“Two, why?”

“Actually, we have three,” I said. Robin, Steve, Dustin and Max all four looked at me, but my eyes landed on Steve’s. Shrugging, I said, “If you wanna count Keith’s, it makes three.”

“Three works,” Max said.

“Guys, what’s going on? Does it pertain to the person was murdered?”

Taking off his backpack, Dustin said, “Y/N/N, move.”

Moving, I asked, “What fo–” Interrupting me, Dustin slid his bag across the counter, causing Steve and I to shout, “What are you–?”

“My pile,” Robin complained.

Dustin slid across the front counter, knocking over the tapes Steve stacked, causing him to shout, “No, no, no! My tapes! Dude!”

I had moved as soon as I knew what my brother was doing when he slid his bag and then his body across the counter. I walked up to him as he sat down at the computer. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Setting up base camp,” Dustin said.

“Base camp? Dusty, you can’t do that. This is my place of work.” I looked behind me at the back of the store. “If Keith finds out you’re back here, I’m dead.”

“You won’t,” Steve said.

I looked at him, asking, “What?”

“He left after you got here,” Robin said. “While you were in the back.”

Sighing, I said, “I’m gonna kill him.” Looking back at Dustin, I asked, “Why do you even need the computer?”

“Eddie’s friend’s phone numbers,” Dustin said.

“Your new best friend you think is cooler ‘cause he plays your nerdy game?” Steve asked.

“If you stop complaining about Eddie, I’ll go on a date with you,” I said, looking at Steve.

I turned back around to watch my brother, seeing him writing down names and numbers. Groaning loudly, I walk to the front of the counter to help Robin finish picking up. 

“You want me to strangle him or should I let you do those honors?” Steve said.

“Take turns,” Robin said.

“Oooh, good idea,” I smiled, looking back and forth between the two.

“Fill them in, please,” Dustin said.

“Fill us in on what?” Robin asked.

I looked at Max, who looked like she didn’t want to say anything, but told us anyway.

~~~

Apparently, Eddie had killed Chrissy Cunningham, and how he’s on the run from the cops… or at least that’s what I got out of it. 

“So, he killed her or something else killed her?” I asked.

“I’m thinking something else,” Max said.

While Robin, Max and Dustin called Eddie’s friends, we ended up getting a few customers in the store, to whom Steve and I both attended to. As I walked past him and a female customer, I overheard him try to explain Doctor Zhivago to the poor girl, who stated she had a boyfriend.

After I was done with my customer, I noticed that Steve had walked this girl to the door and stood there as she got in her car and drove off.

“Stop gawking,” I said. He pulled himself back in the store after saying the GD word. Looking at me, he gave me those eyes that I knew was him beating himself up on the inside. I took a step closer to him, almost chest to chest. “Hey, listen. If you can go the rest of our shift without complaining about Eddie or beating yourself up mentally, I’ll go on a date with you. Tonight.”

“Where?” he asked.

“Lover’s Lake. Pick me up at 9. I’ll be sitting on the trunk of my mom’s car.”

“It’s a date.”

“I might have a lead,” Max said, interrupting our moment. She started explaining something, but all I heard was one name; Reefer Rick.

“Wait a sec, I know him,” I said, walking to the counter.

“You do?” they all asked.

“Yeah. I used to buy weed from him back when I was a sophomore. I know where he lives.”

~~~

Robin, Max and Dustin gave the plan of going to see Reefer Rick as soon as possible. So, the five of us went to see him, only for him to not be at home. We found Eddie, though, in the boat house, hiding in a boat.

He explained what happened with Chrissy after we convinced him to tell us. As he was explaining what happened with her bones and how they were snapping, I shivered and turned my head to the side with my eyes closed.

I jumped when I felt an arm around me again. The arm belonging to Steve. I did what I always did when he did that; curled into him the best I could.

“You all think I’m crazy, right?” Eddie asked.

I looked over at him, sniffling, “No. We don’t think you��re crazy at all.”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N! I know how this sounds.”

“We’re not bullshitting you. We believe you.”

“Look,” Dustin said. “What I’m about to tell you might be a little… difficult to take. You know how people say Hawkins is… cursed? They’re not way off.”

Sniffing again, I said, “There’s another world. A world hidden beneath Hawkins, and sometimes it bleeds into ours.” “Like ghosts and shit?” Eddie asked.

“There are some things worse than ghosts,” Max said.

“There’s monsters in this other world,” Dustin said. “We thought they were gone.”

“But they’ve come back before,” I said.

“That’s why we needed to find you.”

“If they’re back again,” Max said. “We need to know.”

“That night,” Robin said. “Did you see anything?”

“Dark particles, maybe?” 

Eddie shook his head before Dustin explained, “They would almost look like dust, swirling dust.”

“Or snow,” I said.

“No, there was nothing you could see or touch,” Eddie said. “I tried to wake her. She couldn’t move. It was like she… she was in a trance or something.”

“Or under a spell,” Dustin said. 

“A curse.”

“Vecna’s Curse.”

Rubbing my arm again, Steve asked the group, “Who’s Vecna?”

“An undead creature of great power,” Dustin answered.

“A spellcaster,” Eddie said.

“A dark wizard.”

~~~

After taking Max and Robin home, Steve took me and Dustin home… well, mainly Dustin since it was already about 9pm. When he got out of the car, Dustin asked, “Aren’t you coming?”

“Tell mom not to wait up,” I said. “There’s a conversation that needs to happen.” I looked over at Steve for a second before looking at the sky, lightning striking.

“Make it fast.”

Steve drove off towards Lover’s Lake, the silence in the car deafening. “Hey, listen,” he said. “What happened between us–”

“Can we pause this conversation until we get there?” I asked. He sighed and went back to not saying anything. I watched as the rain started to come down, lightly before it gradually got heavier.

I looked out at the lake as soon as Steve put his car in park. After a few seconds of silence, I said, “I don’t know why I did it.” Looking down at my lap, I tried to will the tears back. “I was either scared you’d cheat on me or that I’d cheat on you. Truth is…” I sniffled. “I never stopped caring about you, thinking about you, or… loving you.”

I looked at him, seeing his eyes already on me. “I wouldn’t have.”

“I know, I know, I just– I had that small fear. And no, it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you because I did and still do. It was me and my stupid brain.” I couldn’t hold the tears back as I said, “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

He cradled me the best he could with us being in the car. “Hey, it’s okay. I understood then and I understand now.” I looked up at him the best I could as he looked down at me. “I still love you, too.”

Without thinking, I leaned up and kissed him, feeling him kiss me back. A simple kiss turned into a make out session which turned into me climbing into his lap after he pulled the seat back.

Detaching his lips from mine, he smiled a little, saying, “Bring back memories?”

I took my shirt off and nodded, but I said, “Shut up and kiss me.” 

We quickly locked lips again before I helped him take off his shirt. His lips went for my neck as my hands went to the back of his head, gently balling up his hair in my fists. He found my sweet spot, which made me moan.

“God, I’ve missed that sound,” he said.

“Steve,” I breathed.

“Yeah?” 

“Shut up, please.” I hadn’t realized that he unhooked my bra and pulled it off my breasts a little until I felt the flesh of his hands on the flesh of my breasts. “Steve, do something.”

I put my arms down, feeling my bra straps fall down before I felt Steve’s hands on my back, pulling me straight. I moaned loudly as I felt his lips wrap around my nipple, him hardening the bud.

Pulling away from my breast with a small pop, Steve said, “There’s my girl,” before moving on to the other one, eliciting another moan from me.

I felt his bulge on my core, so I reached down once he pulled away from my breast again and palmed him through his jeans, making him groan. After doing that for a moment, I looked down at his button and popped it, unzipping his jeans right after. 

Without him even saying anything, I got up on my knees as best as I could so that he could slide his jeans down his thighs. Before I could reach into his boxers, he said, “Do you remember where I keep them?”

I nodded, turning my head to the glove box and reaching the best I could to open it and retrieve a condom. Steve and I were both a panting mess, our breathing heavy. I turned back to him, holding the packet up and smiling. “Are we really about to do this?”

He nodded while smiling before taking the packet out of my hand. “Yup.”

I chuckled before I looked down at his package, reaching for it. I looked at him and asked with my eyes if he was totally sure, to which he nodded just slightly. 

It’s not like Steve and I never had sex before because we have. We just haven’t had sex in about seven months, so I just wanted to be sure with him before we went any further.

Reaching into his boxers, I wrapped my hand around his hardened length, pumping slowly a few times to get the blood flowing even more. Before long, I started pumping faster, finding a rhythm. 

Steve moaned, letting me know he was liking what I was doing. Not realizing that he popped the button on my jeans and unzipped them, I moaned as well when I felt his finger enter my core. Mutual masturbation, I guess.

“Mmmm, baby, baby, baby,” Steve said. “You keep going, I’m gonna cum right all over your hand.”

I stopped, putting my hands on his face to pull him in for a deep kiss. He pulled his hand from my panties before I felt him tap the outside of my thighs. I got up on my knees again before he broke the kiss.

“Sit over there,” he said, breathing heavily.

I did as he asked and sat in the passenger seat to finish undressing, him doing the same. “Do you have a blanket in the back?”

“Always,” he smiled.

I watched as he rolled the condom down his length after taking it from the packet. He grabbed my hand and helped me back over, but not before I hit my head on the roof of the car. “Ow, fuck!”

He chuckled while holding my head, kissing where I hit it. “Are you okay?”

I chuckled as well, looking up at him. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

After calming down, I looked down and grabbed his hardened cock, giving him those eyes once more. He nodded again, so I carefully lined him up with my entrance and slowly slid down, moaning all the way. 

“Fuck, I forgot how big you are,” I breathed.

“You know you love it,” he said.

“I do,” I said. “I do.” After adjusting for a moment, I started bouncing… or what bouncing I could do considering we were in his car.

Steve and I were still breathing heavily, moans coming out of my mouth left and right. I felt his hands on my hips, his own meeting mine.

“Wait, wait, wait,” I breathed, stopping my movements. “If you’re wanting to do that, we should lay the seat back. It feels awkward.”

He thought about it for a second before nodding and saying, “You’re right.” He laid the seat back and told me to stay on my knees before we started up again; me bouncing and him thrusting up into me.

With my hair in front of my face and my mouth open, I moaned with every thrust Steve made.

“You’re so beautiful,” he grunted. “So goddamn beautiful.”

“Oh, my god,” I breathed. “I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna–” With one more thrust into me, I came all over Steve’s protected cock. Leaning forward, I caught myself with my hands on the top corners of the seat. 

With his hands on my hips, I looked down at Steve, seeing him eye our bodies meeting, sweat forming on his brow. “Almost there,” he grunted.

“Ahhh, fuck,” I moaned loudly.

With one final, “Fuck!” from Steve, he stopped all movements, grunting while his hips jerked, letting me know he had came.

We didn’t move from our positions, just sitting there trying to catch our breaths. After a couple of minutes of being completely still, I moved my hand from the seat to Steve’s cheek, bringing our lips together.

When we pulled apart, we rested our foreheads against each other. I had my eyes closed, so I couldn’t tell if his was open or not.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you, too,” he whispered back. “But, uhm, can you move? I’m getting soft.”

I laughed at his statement, nodding my head. I moved to the backseat, hoping he would pick up what I was laying down. Grabbing the blanket, I wrapped it around myself, noticing that Steve was pulling his boxers and jeans back up.

“Y/N/N?” he asked.

“Back here, dorkwad.”

He turned his head and smiled when our eyes met. He looked at my clothes before handing them back to me, silently telling me to get dressed, and after doing so, he climbed in the back with me, laying down in the seat first before I laid on top of him.

He sighed, rubbing his hands up and down my back. “I’ve missed this.”

“Me, too,” I smiled. “Next time we do this, though, at least take me to dinner first.”

He chuckled before saying, “It’s a date.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N 2:  hi, friends! i hope did steve harrington justice! i’ve been wanting to write for him since season 3 came out but just didn’t have major inspiration until now! but let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

~~~

Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24​​ @stixnstripesworld​​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​​ @quanticobae​​ @mischiefandi​​ @kellyashcroft​​ @lauren-novak​​​

Steve Harrington Taglist: none yet!

If you’re tagged and didn’t want to be, please let me know.

~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @stilinskiparker​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers. 

*These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited.

No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

Posted on June 3, 2022

[eruden-writes]

Room & Board - Part 12 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

Part 1 | Previous | Masterlist | Next

x x x x x

Early access to Part 13 when it’s ready will be available on Patreon!

Comments, tags, and reblogs are real motivators for me, too! (●ˇ∀ˇ●)

Also, my inbox is always open for asks, so don’t be shy!

x x x x x

April 20, 1882

It has been 2 weeks since my last entry. Regrettably, there has not been much to report.

I have continued to visit Tabaeus and provide sustenance when requested. Others have not seemed to realize Tabaeus's dwindling feral appearance as their body shifts to something more human.

The council hasn't decided what to do with the creature. Caged, Tabaeus has been nullified. They have not fed on non-consenting parties nor shown any hostility, unless provoked.

However, a few entrepreneuring minds have tossed in the idea of 'leasing' Tabaeus out to interested parties. Thus, the vampyr would become a source of revenue for the town and a plaything for scientists or doctors with deep enough pockets.

I do not know how to feel about that option, yet there is not much else to consider at this point in time. If there were a way to reverse the vampyrism, perhaps. Which, I suppose, would be reason enough to allow learned minds to study or test Tabaeus.

Tabaeus's screams from Dr. Forsythe's surgery still haunts me, however. I do hope the council puts restrictions on such activities.

May 10th, 1882

The council has concluded to lease out the vampyr.

Tabaeus will remain in the morgue's basement, which has been equipped with safety measures such as silver bars at most exits and religious seals. In hopes of renewed coffers, the mortician has been relocated.

All studies and experiments are to take place on these premises. Interested parties shall be charged weekly, a hefty sum which varies according to the research or experiments to be accomplished.

I will stay on as a keeper, for now. My duties will include recording pertinent findings and relaying other research that may aid a doctor or scientist in their own work. I am also tasked with caring for Tabaeus, as one would an animal.

There is not much to the task, however. I simply provide him food and liquids, perhaps some entertainment by the way of books or art supplies. Something to give him stimulation in that dreary dark crypt of a basement.

I still do not know how to feel about this decision. If Tabaeus could be wrenched from the clutches of corrupt darkness, however, perhaps it will be worth it.

For the rest of the day and into the next, you continue to read Dr. Kieran Bennett's journal. Tabaeus often makes themselves scarce, when they see you nose-deep in the book, perhaps worried about what else you have found.

Or what you will find out.

You shove all suspicions away for the time being. For now, you just want to get through this journal and perhaps answer questions that have been itching at your brain.

Numerous entries fill the pages of the journal, once it's decided to "rent out" Tabaeus. They cover the better part of almost two years since Tabaeus's 1882 discovery. Many new names, new people come through.

Doctors, scientists, students. Even a few priests who try to 'sway Tabaeus's soul toward the light.' Sometimes, the fresh faces linger for months. Other times, they flitter in to get a specimen from Tabaeus or try a small, insignificant theory, before being lost to time.

Garlic has no effect. Silver can burn, but not to a huge detriment. Other than being an annoyance, spilled beans or small pebbles did not paralyze Tabaeus until they were all counted.

All through it, Dr. Kieran Bennett stays by Tabaeus's side. He sleeps in the upper part of the once-morgue, presumably in an apartment where the mortician once lived. Faintly, you wonder how often Kieran let Tabaeus roam the house, if at all. Kieran's tone when it comes to Tabaeus fluctuates over the course of their acquaintanceship.

There are times you swear Kieran is fond of Tabaeus, if not outright loves them. Then the usage of 'creature' and 'it' returns, to once more establish a cold distance.

Eventually, you stumble upon an entry unlike the others.

January 4, 1884

A new figure has arrived on the scene. A one Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛. He is allegedly learned in occult studies, medicines, herbology, and more. A modern day Renaissance scholar with a particular interest in unholy things, whether they be items or creatures.

He arrived last night and I have yet to meet him.

With squinting eyes, you try to make out the name that has been blotted out. It is impossible, though. Whether it's due to the ink or time that has passed, you can't make out the once scrawled name nor can you decipher it through the indents of the paper.

Quietly, you hazard a glance at Tabaeus. For once, they have remained close on the opposite end of the couch as you read, although there's still a healthy distance between the two of you. They're focused on their own book - ironically a vampire romance - while Liuva and Bjarka sleep in the pocket of their overall dress.

You wonder if it's worth it to ask them about the redacted name. Likely, it won't be. They won't remember or claim not to remember. But, it couldn't hurt.

With a nudge of your foot against their side, Tabaeus glances up from their book. They toss you an easy smile, delighted at your attention, but their expression falls, seeing the look on your face. "Yes?"

"Do you know who this is?" You turn the journal around, holding it open with one hand and pointing to the smeared ink.

Much as how you did, Tabaeus leans forward and narrows their eyes at the page. You watch their lips minutely move as they read the passage, their brows furrowing as they came to the blot. Their lips press together tight as their eyes drop, but you're not sure if they're trying to remember or trying to come up with an excuse.

"Regrettably, I do not know exactly what it says," Tabaeus sighs, but their eyebrows do not relax. You want to say they're struggling to remember, parting the curtains of time to find the answer, but you can't be sure. "He is an important figure, intimidating. It is all hazy, however."

A contemplative hum drops from your lips as you settle back into the couch. You and Tabaeus share an uncertain look across the space between you. Though you've continued to allow feedings, continued to trust Tabaeus despite the tenuous and muddled situation, there's a part of you still wary. And they are aware of that part.

You see the pain that crosses their features whenever the subject surfaces. It makes an answering ache twinge through your own chest.

"Alright," you shrug and sigh, turning back to the journal. You feel Tabaeus's red gaze linger on you as your re-read the passage, trying to immerse yourself in the words once more. Soon enough, they too return to their book.

January 27, 1884

I do not trust Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛.

Tabaeus becomes tense whenever the man is around. They are clearly upset by Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛'s presence. When asked, they cannot - or will not - say why. No matter how badly they are pressed.

Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛'s treatments appear to be more cruelty than cure, as well.

I fear I feel the same as Tabaeus when it comes to my mistrust of this newcomer. However, my apprehension may be more personal than professional.

Too many townspeople have been discussing my lack of marital inquiries and my disinterest in finding a wife. Oftentimes, they dredge up my time spent with Tabaeus in the next breath.

It has grown... uncomfortable in town.

I do not know if Lord ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ simply picked up on it from burgeoning rumors or if his presence is what allowed the seeds of rumor to take root.

I fear my time here is coming to a close, very soon.

It will be difficult to say goodbye.

You turn the page, wondering who this Lord Blot is, what he was doing. Did he have something to do with Dr. Kieran's proclivities coming to light? Or was it simply happenstance, of a man who spent so much time in the company of a vampire?

Your eyes widen as you stare at the next page.

There is no date, but there is a frantically scrawled words, taking up the better part of the page.

HE IS NOT AS HE APPEAR

Mid-word, the ink makes a harsh line down before a splatter of ink messes the page. But that is not what causes you pause.

Most of the paper is stained a grimy reddish brown. You carefully lift the page, finding the stain has soaked through the remaining pages.

With a realization that makes something in your heart cringe back, you realize there are no further entries.

"Are you feeling well?" Tabaeus's quiet question rouses you from a swirl of nausea.

Feeling more than a little lightheaded, your attention flickers to them. Your eyes wide as your lips part to answer. Then your gaze flickers back to the book. Had Tabaeus killed Kieran? Had the Lord Blot?

Hell, you don't even know if Kieran was dead after writing that passage. Perhaps he just suffered a terrible injury and still lived. But who suffers such an injury while journaling?

"Amata?" You hear Tabaeus set his own book aside and sense, more than feel, their hand hover toward your shoulder. They do not touch you, though. You're not sure if you're grateful for that or not.

"I believe Dr. Kieran Bennett was injured or killed while writing this final passage." Your words are soft as you flip through the stained parchment. Faintly, you wonder if Tabaeus knows that stain is blood, if they could smell or sense it somehow. The air around Tabaeus becomes heavier, colder.

After a quiet moment, you hear them swallow and tentatively ask, "What did it say?"

"Dr. Kieran didn't finish it, entirely." "But I presume the whole statement was: He is not as he appears."

Tabaeus falls silent again, red eyes wide and eyebrows tilted upward. You cannot meet their gaze. Instead, you tilt your attention back to the book. Your teeth worry the inside of your cheek as you think.

Could the 'he' in Kieran's warning be about Tabaeus? Or the blotted out name?

Perhaps the blotted name was Tabaeus's own doing, you think with a start. Maybe it was the name of someone that did know how to do away with vampires, a hunter of some sort. It would make sense for a vampire to be leery of such a figure. Would a vampire's possible lover also have to worry?

When you tilt your attention back to Tabaeus, misery is painted across their features. They see the suspicions clearly on your face.

"Amata," they start weakly. You're not sure what they're going to say. Perhaps once more asking for your trust, reasserting their own uncertainty. Maybe, they were going to suggest parting ways.

Whatever they were about to say, you interrupted as you held up one of the later passages. You jabbed at the splotch of ink with your finger. "Did you blot this name out?"

Tabaeus's lips thin at your question. Now they look away. Your stomach is already in the process of sinking when they answer, "Yes. I blotted the name out a long time ago."

"Why?" The word comes out desperate and exasperated on your lips. As much as you want to believe them, you cannot ignore the conflicted feelings itching at your insides. There was too much piling up against Tabaeus. There wasn't enough information coming straight from the vampire.

They reached up to their head, running a clawed hand through their hair. A mix of expressions pinches their features and their eyes dart around, finding the right words and forcing them out, "I am... afraid of them."

"Who?" Half-answers, non-answer. It's all threading frustration through your thoughts. The only reason you can think Tabaeus to be afraid of anyone was if they were a hunter. Your thoughts spin back to the box, where the journal was safely lodged. Maybe this Lord had killed Kieran and Tabaeus had killed this Lord? Your mind spins with potential answers, but no way to verify any of them. "Why were you afraid of them?"

"I can't say," moans Tabaeus, pressing their face into their hands. You watch them as they scoot even further away, bringing their knees to their chest. As they curl up - though careful of the sugar gliders in their breast pocket - against the far end of the couch. Their shoulders hunch, their voice pitching into pleading though they expect to not be believed. "Please, believe me when I say I couldn't remember them."

With a disgruntled sigh, you snap the journal closed a little harsher than you mean to. From the corner of your eye, you notice Tabaeus flinch at the sound.

Silence blankets the both of you, neither of you looking to the other.

Tabaeus is a flawed source of confirmation and answers. You knew this. Catching your lower lip between your teeth, you try to calm your spiraling thoughts and consider other options.

You still need to research Dr. Kieran Bennett. Perhaps you can access some old records somewhere, via the library. Part of you worries what you'll find out, though.

A chime from your phone draws you from your tense thoughts. Picking it up from the couch's arm, you find a text from Ewan. After a glance to Tabaeus, who is pitifully skulking further into teh couch, you read the message.

Hey! Wanna go get some dinner and catch a movie tonight? We can catch up. ;)

Surprisingly, the message manages to draw a pleasant warmth in your chest, pushing away the cold and dread. After the last couple days, literally binge-reading the journal, you could use a dose of fun. A quick glance to Tabaeus makes you realize they could use it too. You'd been so consumed by the journal, the two of you hadn't really hung out. Not in the fun sense, at least.

Your attention slowly turns back to your phone. Ewan and Tabaeus likely wouldn't want to hang out together, you realize. A swell of disappointment expands in your chest at that thought. Leaving Tabaeus alone, after all of this, seems mean-spirited, as well.

It's not until your phone dings again that you realize Ewan started typing again.

If you'd feel more comfortable bringing your roomie, feel free to.

You just stare at your phone, surprised by Ewan's concession. Considering how both of them acted the other night, you thought you'd have to twist both their arms when it came to being in the same room. Hanging out hadn't even been a consideration, honestly.

Getting Tabaeus to agree, however, might be another problem. Sly-like, you peer over at the vampire, who still huddles far from you. Their expression appears strained and creased. Whatever Tabaeus is thinking of is definitely weighing them down.

Tentatively, you quietly interrupt the heavy silence. "Want to go to dinner and a movie with Ewan and me?"

Tabaeus perks up at your voice, but noticeably deflates at the mention of Ewan. Their arms tighten around their stockinged legs, their eyes refusing to meet yours. "I don't know."

Trying to revive some playfulness in the air, you lean toward Tabaeus with a teasing smile. "Well, if you don't come, Ewan will be all alone with me."

You almost cringe at how half-hearted the delight in your voice sounds. It's proving to be hard, shaking off all the heavy atmosphere.

"Why are you doing this?" Tabaeus sighs and their red eyes flicker to you. Their gaze seems duller than it usually is and you can almost see a cloud of gloomy miasma around them.

At their question, your eyebrows furrow, completely uncomprehending. "What do you mean?"

"How can you live with me if you don't trust me? Why offer to hang out after all that?" Tabaeus pushes themself off the couch, pacing back and forth along it. The sudden movement startles the sugar gliders, who squeak their complaints away. Tabaeus doesn't hear them, though. Their long arms stretch down to the hem of their dress, fussing with the edge of the fabric. "It'd be simpler if you just... just..."

You want to ask 'if I just what?' But you can't. Tabaeus gave you the vampire hunter box with clear intent. And after reading Kieran's journal, you know they'd been kept in a basement for years, experimented on, and even suffered through multiple surgeries.

What other misfortunes had they lived through that hadn't been recorded? Even if Tabaeus was lying about their memory, could it stem from the string of bad luck that seems to have followed them? An ache pierces your chest at that thought. Perhaps there were reasons for Tabaeus's memory problems, beyond trickery or genuine amnesia.

"A lot of things could make this whole situations simpler," you sigh when Tabaeus seems unable to come up with a course of action. If only there was a clear reason for their memory loss. If only there had been more explicit information in the journal. If only, if only, if only... A million thoughts spin around your head, but you shake your head, dispersing them.

Slowly, you get to your feet and approach the vampire. Pausing in front of them, you cross your arms, angling your head to look up at them. "I'm having a hard time believing you would hurt me, but there's still that suspicion that this, how you are, is an act."

Panicked and anguished, Tabaeus's voice crackles as they squawk, "It's not!"

An apologetic smile spreads over your lips, which doesn't seem to ease the woe in Tabaeus's features. Another blanket of silence briefly covers you both. Tabaeus towers over you, their shoulders hunched, staring at their hands still fiddling with their own skirt.

"Look, I think I got too deep, too fast, in this journal." You reach for the book, holding it up and waggling it in the air. With a toss, you throw it back onto the couch. Just holding it makes your head hurt, recalling all the awful things inside its pages. "I need to cleanse my palate and Ewan offered to hang out. Even extended the invite to you."

At that, Tabaeus looks up, surprise glinting in their eyes.

You can't help but smile, almost seeing the thoughts banging about Tabaeus's head. A werewolf extending an invitation to a vampire? How absurd.

Clinging to that image, and other amusements the night may yet bring, your smile finally feels genuine after a long hiatus. "I thought we both could use an outing."

"Perhaps," Tabaeus murmurs, their eyes flickering to your smile. The tension in their stance relaxes, apparently put further at eas with the return of your more pleasant smile.

"Let's forget about this for now and get gussied up." With a renewed sense of vigor, you type a reply out to Ewan - agreeing to meet and saying you would bring Tabaeus - before looking up at Tabaeus again. As your grin broadens, you wink at the vampire. "I'll even let you pick out my outfit."

"Oh," Tabaeus's voice has gone soft, their eyes widening a little. They had asked to dress you, on multiple occasions. Sometimes as a joke, but occasionally a sincere note bled into their words. Now, they shake their head. "You do not want me doing that."

Their hesitance only serves to deepen your amusement. "Why not?"

Tabaeus makes a noise, deep in their throat. Too ashamed to put their thoughts into words. Now, you're simply curious what they have in mind. Feeling more bold and amiable than earlier, you take their hand in yours. Their fingers flex at the sudden touch, before they ease into it.

"Well, let's get ready and knock Ewan dead." Excited to shove the despair away for the evening, you start pulling Tabaeus up to your room. However, you pause and squint up at the suddenly delighted smile pulled across the vampire's face. You sigh when you realize what you had said. "Figuratively knock Ewan dead."

"Killjoy," Tabaeus mumbles as their face falls a little. You snort and roll your eyes, pulling them back up the stairs and toward your room.

Thoughts of the journal - of Kieran and Lord Blot and everything else in those pages - gets shoved to the back of your head. You are still on vacation from work. You have a house. Your roomie is a vampire - who can foot your bills for life - and, quite possibly, a former co-worker is a werewolf.

There would be time to dwell on the past later.

Tonight, you just wanted fun.

[the-scarlet-witch-22]

Chaconne: Part Twelve (Agatha Harkness x Reader)

Word Count: 4.1K

Summary: As the fall season progresses, and as tensions rise, Y/N decides on what to do about her relationship with Agatha Harkness and goes to an audition for Natasha Romanov

Link: Here is a link to the Chaconne playlist I made on Spotify :) I’ve posted the pieces mentioned in this chapter (Vivaldi, Paganini, and Wieniawski) and add in other songs as well

A/N: Hello Chaconne readers! It’s been a minute. I hope you’re all doing well. I apologize for the delay in updating, life has been very busy but I am determined to finish the first arc of Chaconne. I wanted to do a quick little note to address a musician who is listed in the story. It was brought to my attention that some of you may think Hilary Hahn is a fictional person I made up but she is real! Please google her. I love her. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter. We’re nearing the end! I think I’ve updated my tag list but if I left anyone off please remind me- I apologize if I did! As always thank you for reading! Please feel free to leave comments & my inbox is always open for messaging, it always makes my day to hear from y’all ❤️

Tag List: @anxiousgoldengirl @celasteria @danvers97 @imthedoctorlove @mcfriggingonagall @meowsaidmissy @scarletmeltstheice @shinkomiii @sxfwap @thestrangeundoing @upsidedowndanvers @venticalooks @vintagegoddess12 @thoroughly--confused @genderenvyeveryone @thewelshelk

Y/N POV

It had been twelve hours since the Times article had been published and you barely left your bedroom. A small part of you was aching to talk to Agatha, as you had grown accustomed to spending most of your waking hours in her presence. But those feelings of longing were outweighed by the heaviness you felt in your chest. You had so many questions, and you were unsure if getting answers would bring you out of this catatonic state.

Your brain replayed your last conversation with the conductor on a constant, agonizingly painful loop. It was pathetic really, but you couldn’t stop. Unfortunately those thoughts slowly transitioned to questioning every interaction you’d shared with Agatha and Wanda since starting your job. Every angry jab Agatha would throw in when the pianist was mentioned. How jealous she appeared whenever Wanda was in close proximity to you. All this time you had assumed the strange behavior was driven by her hatred of Wanda, and she didn’t want you associating with the pianist because of it. Now you were beginning to wonder if it was all some elaborate ruse to cover up an alleged affair.

Finally you couldn’t take your own self pity anymore; you needed to get out of your apartment. Fresh air would surely do you some good. Fall was in full swing in New York, and the cooler air sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins as you weaved through the crowds. You need to be somewhere calm to clear your head, which could be challenging while living in one of the busiest cities in the world. The most obvious choice would be to walk through Chelsea Market for coffee before taking a walk along the High Line. The mere thought of the park usually made you feel better, but instead you felt your chest ache at the memory of your most recent visit with Agatha.

Agatha throwing a fit as you insisted on taking the subway, and how you all but dragged her down the stairs of the station. Agatha, arrogant as ever, insisting on standing on the train and ultimately falling on your lap. Agatha holding your hand, intertwining your fingers as you strolled through The High Line. Agatha being carefree and the closest to happy you had ever seen. Agatha inviting you to her home. Agatha being domestic and cooking you dinner. Agatha humming under her breath, producing the most beautiful melody. Agatha watching you eat and admitting how much she enjoyed your company. Agatha, Agatha, Agatha. Always Agatha.

Your brain swirled with thoughts of the conductor until you couldn’t take it anymore. You needed to go somewhere to sort out your feelings, and clearly The High Line was the last place you should visit. But still, you needed to be outdoors. Racking your brain, you thought of one place you hadn’t ventured to in a while. It was a bit of a trek to get there, but today you seemed to have nothing but time on your hands.

The subway was unusually quiet this morning, once again reminding you of your time on the train with Agatha. No, you thought quietly, you needed to stop. Attempting to distract yourself, you began sorting through your purse, yet as the train made its first stop your mind once again wandered to the conductor. How she scrunched her nose at your suggestion to sit down, and how hard it was for you to reign in your laughter when she fell on your lap. A smile played at your lips before you remembered your current situation, and felt a familiar tug at your heart. You missed her. How was that even possible? You had spent the majority of your life without Agatha Harkness, yet only after a few months in her presence she was all you could think of. Thankfully you reached your stop before you could remind yourself of the painful reason why the conductor was always on your mind.

Exiting the station, you enjoyed the cool breeze that left you feeling comfortable enough in your light coat. There was nothing quite like fall in New York City. The crimson and carnelian leaves rustling in the wind around you seemed to bring Vivaldi’s Autumn to life. While you always looked forward to fall and winter, your violin did not feel the same. You were already dreading the extra time it would take you to tune, as the colder weather could cause the stringed instrument to go flat.

Luckily this was perfect walking weather, and you could already feel your brain fog clearing as you reached your destination; The Met Cloisters. As a child you always enjoyed your family trips to The Met, but adored the rare trip to The Cloisters even more. Nestled in Fort Tryon Park, it felt as if you had traveled through time. The Met Cloisters housed relics from the Middle Ages and it was unlike anything you’d experienced.

As much as you adored strolling through the various galleries and admiring the medieval art, or taking a walk through one of the gardens, there was one spot you were longing to visit; The West Terrace. It was your hidden oasis, and was one of the only spots in New York that sometimes made you forget you were in such a crowded and occasionally overwhelming city. Situated on the hill, it overlooked the Hudson River and often provided you a quiet space for thinking. During the fall it was a brilliant swirl of gold and red hues, which produced a stunning backdrop. The terrace was relatively vacant at this time of day, and you were thankful for the peace and quiet. For the first time all week, you felt better.

Finally turning on your phone, your heart sank at the number of messages from Agatha. As upset as you were, you knew you needed to at least tell her you were okay. You sent a quick text back, and you considered calling her when a different notification caught your eye and almost caused you to drop your phone. You had received an email from Natasha Romanov asking if you were available to meet later this evening for an audition.

Natasha Romanov was perhaps the greatest violinist you had ever seen live…well besides Hilary Hahn. With the stature and grace of a ballerina, she made every flourish of her bow and run up and down the fingerboard look elegant. You had followed her since the start of her career, and she became more popular as the years went on. Soon, you had seen news of her headlining every major orchestra. You religiously watched any recording of her performances you could find and even followed her on Instagram. The chance to audition for Natasha Romanov was one in a million, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were.

But were you ready for that pressure? Performing for Natasha Romanov was quite a step up from being Agatha’s assistant, and were you ready for it? Sighing, you realized you were wasting precious time and it was almost noon. You would need at least an hour to get back to your apartment, and would need an additional hour to practice and prepare. It wouldn’t hurt to meet with Natasha. Surely the worst thing that could happen would be being rejected from her group, and you could handle that. Replying to Natasha’s email, you hurriedly left the museum to get ready.

Which is how you found yourself standing in the doorway of Natasha’s studio. Natasha Romanov was even more breathtaking in person. Her red hair was pulled back in a braid, and she was rehearsing what sounded like one of Paganini’s 24 Caprices. You watched her perform, eyes closed as she let her fingers guide her through the passages. It took you a moment to clock it as No. 4 in C Minor. While you often struggled to hit every double stop accurately and have your notes be in tune, Natasha made it look as easy as breathing. She moved from passage to passage with such ease and unwavering stamina, never relenting in intensity.

She eventually noticed you hovering in the doorway and stopped practicing. “Y/N?” Natasha asked, and you paused for a moment before nodding.

Natasha approached you and held out her hand, and you shook it and offered her a small smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you Miss Romanov, thank you for this audition.”

“Well Wanda’s told me a lot about you,” Natasha continued as you fidgeted with your violin case as you unpacked, putting a generous amount of rosin on your bow. “She seems to feel you have too much talent to be wasting away as someone’s assistant.”

Despite your conflicted feelings regarding Agatha, you still felt anger at the violinist’s words. “I’m not wasting away, and I happen to love my job.”

“Yet you wanted to meet me,” Natasha pointed out. “Which must mean some part of you is considering a change in careers.”

“I guess I might be reconsidering a few things,” you admitted, and felt a small pang of guilt at the admission.

Natasha let out a low hum. “You’re a violinist, Y/N, not someone’s secretary. There’s no shame in wanting to perform, is there?”

Despite the churning in your stomach, you knew Natasha had a point. This is what you’d dreamed for as long as you could remember; to be on stage with your violin. For all of the hours you chose to practice instead of going out with your friends. The strenuous lessons with passive aggressive professors that made you want to bash your head against a wall. Countless hours spent crying in practicing rooms after lessons with said professors. Recital preparation that required your undivided attention as you attempted to memorize and perfect every last bar. You had sacrificed everything for this. This was the life of a musician. Nothing came before the music.

After taking a few moments to tune your strings, you remained silent, stewing in your thoughts. It appeared Natasha noticed a change in your attitude. “What have you prepared for me?”

The most obvious answer would be Chaconne. It would be the safer choice, as it was the primary piece you’d been working on with Agatha. But you’d recently started a new concerto, one you’d been dying to play for years; and it happened to be one you knew Natasha was fond of.

“The first movement of Wieniawski’s Violin Concerto No. 2.”

That appeared to capture Natasha’s attention, as you watched the violinist lean against the grand piano with a curious expression on her face. “Interesting choice. I last played that with the-”

“The LA Philharmonic last November,” you blurted out, and Natasha stared at you, perplexed. “I went to the concert. You were incredible.”

Natasha hummed again, before nodding. “Thank you. It’s a rigorous piece, are you sure you can handle it?”

Normally you would have let your inner voice chime in with your unrelenting self-doubt, but you were reminded of a particularly grueling lesson with Agatha. There were three things Agatha loathed (in no particular order); Wanda Maximoff (although you wondered how true that was), TikTok, and cowardice.

It was a rather late evening in the symphony hall, and Agatha had just finished attempting to fix the way you held your bow, bringing up the importance of how to curve your fingers just so. Unfortunately, each time the conductor did this, she was standing right behind you, one hand on your waist, the other on the hand holding your bow. You swore she moved closer with every word of the dangers of holding the bow with an unbent thumb, and your brain practically short circuited as she whispered in your ear to “relax.”

As soon as she stepped back, you could all but feel her burning gaze, thankful she wasn’t able to see the burning in your cheeks. Clapping her hands together, she went to leave the stage in her usual flourish. “Now, dear, just as we practiced. When you position your bow on the string keep your posture relaxed enough to ensure your bow hand fingers will be able to bend,” Agatha instructed, and you nodded. You could do that, right?

Gently raising your violin to rest on your shoulder, you rolled your shoulders back and placed your bow on the string. Taking a quick glance at your bow hand, you internally panicked as you felt yourself tense up. Closing your eyes, you took a deep breath and tried to relax, just as Agatha had whispered in your ear mere moments ago. But the more you urged yourself to relax, you became more tense. Finally you shook your head and placed your violin under your arm as you looked out to Agatha.

“I can’t do it.”

The conductor sat in the front row, hands folded neatly and legs crossed. There was a curious expression on her face, not quite annoyed but not amused either. She stared at you for a bit of time, the silence growing through the vastly empty hall until she let out a low hum.

“Then get out,” she said simply, motioning to the door. “And come back when you’re ready to work.”

Giving her an incredulous look, you shook your head again. “But I am working. I’m doing everything you’re telling me, and I’m telling you that I can’t do this.”

You had struggled with your bow hold for as long as you could remember. Various teachers had fixed it to their liking, and unfortunately different teachers had different methods they swore by. Your undergraduate professor thought you to be an anomaly. He couldn’t fathom how you were able to keep your left hand relaxed enough to move up and down the fingerboard with ease, but struggled to keep your bow hand relaxed.

“There’s a difference between being unable to do something and being afraid to do it,” Agatha remarked. The same curious expression was on her face, but this time she made no attempt to join you on stage. “What are you afraid of?”

Her question was slightly probing, and it caught you off guard, yet you replied without even thinking. “Failure.”

“Then don’t fail,” Agatha countered, finally standing up. The click-clacking of her heels echoed throughout the hall as she walked onstage, standing across from you. “If this is what you want, you need to tune out any sense of self doubt. Out of all those people that will fill those seats,” she motioned to the empty hall in front of you, “there is going to be one person holding their breath, thinking that you’ll find a way to fuck up. Don’t let that person be you.”

Agatha wasn’t a very open person, but her words seemed oddly personal, causing you to wonder if she told herself the same thing before performances. It seemed the conductor realized she was being too vulnerable as she cleared her throat. “From the top.”

Coming back to reality, you shrugged as you fixed your shoulder rest. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

That earned you a smirk. “Well I see you’ve certainly spent enough time with Harkness.” Taking a seat at the table, Natasha nodded towards you. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Wieniawski’s concertos have always been a favorite of yours. As with most pieces composed during the romantic era, there were many lush and colorful passages, starting with the opening theme from the orchestra complete with thick cords and furious runs. Wieniawski’s Concerto No. 2 in D Minor was no different. The opening was around 2 minutes long before you came in. However since you were playing unaccompanied, you mentally hummed the last few bars the orchestra played before your entrance.

The main theme reminded you of the sweetest pain you could experience. It was the sort of yearning you felt when you had a broken heart. The swirling and moody passages went from fast runs up and down the fingerboard to sweet melodies as your violin sang its grief. Playing Wieniawski wasn’t for the faint of heart, as the late composer was considered to be one of the greatest violin virtuosos of all time. The first movement was filled with difficult double stops, arpeggios, and chromatic glissandos that left your fingers all but aching by the end.

Just as you finished a particularly challenging passage complete with double stops, Natasha raised a hand to stop you. “I’ll be in touch in a few days,” Natasha offered, and you had heard that line enough times to know what it meant. It was usually followed by a polite but curt email informing you they decided to ‘go in a different direction.’

Thanking the violinist, you left the studio with a clear destination in your mind. It was late, and you knew the smart choice would be to go home and sleep. But you never made the best decisions. Which is how you ended up on Agatha’s doorstep, violin case still in hand. After debating on whether to ring the doorbell or just go home, you decided you were being ridiculous and rang the doorbell.

A few moments later the door opened to reveal Agatha looking more exhausted than you’d ever seen. The dark circles under her eyes made you silently wonder if the conductor had gotten any sleep. You waited for something, anything. For her to yell at you for completely ignoring all her calls and messages. Or for her to slam the door in your face. Yet instead you got… nothing. Only Agatha staring at you as if she had seen a ghost.

You broke the awkward silence first. “I’m sorry, I know it’s late. I probably should’ve called.”

The conductor remained silent, and you wondered if you made the right choice in coming by unannounced. “Agatha…” Trailing off, you tried to find the right words to say. You knew you had needed the time to gather your thoughts, to know what you wanted to ask her. But somehow seeing her standing in front of you, looking as though she thought she’d never see you again, words failed you.

Clearing her throat, the conductor looked you up and down with a disapproving glance. “You look freezing, Y/N. Why aren’t you wearing a coat?” Gently reaching for your arm, she coaxed you inside, and you felt shivers from her touch. “You’re going to catch a cold, you need to be more careful.”

You were barely aware of anything else besides Agatha’s arm wrapped around your shoulders as she led you to her sitting room. She was quietly mumbling to herself, but you weren’t focusing enough to hear what she was saying. Motioning for you to sit on the couch she grabbed a blanket to wrap around you.

Señor Scratchy was on the armchair across from you, and Agatha gently picked him up, stroking his fur. “Would you like some tea?”

Feeling your stomach doing flip flops, you figured drinking anything might not be the best idea. “I’m alright, thank you.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room as Agatha took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, still holding Señor Scratchy. Despite the conductor being closer to you in what felt like days, you felt further apart from her than ever. There was so much you wanted to say, but you didn’t know where to begin.

Agatha appeared to be lost as well. She was more stoic than you ever remembered her being, and you wondered if the backlash from the article was making its way around the board; more specifically if Hayward was trying to cause problems. As hard as you tried to read the conductor it appeared she put every wall you managed to knock down back up, essentially locking you out.

“I’m sorry for running out yesterday,” You said quietly, trying to get Agatha to look at you. “I should’ve stayed and let you explain. I didn’t know what to do.”

The conductor let out a low hum, as she appeared to be gathering her thoughts. “I can’t say I blame you.” Agatha finally looked up, and met your eyes. “I was hoping to tell you before the article was published but there was no time.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her words. “You knew they were releasing it?”

“Only the night before,” Agatha explained gently, and you wondered if she was speaking this calmly for you or herself. “That's why I canceled the rehearsal. I have a friend who’s a reporter at The Times and they gave me a heads up.” She scoffed. “Although I’m not sure how much of a heads up it really was.”

“So you left to try and kill the story?” You guessed, realizing that explained the conductor’s strange behavior that night.

Agatha nodded. “As you can see I was quite unsuccessful.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry for not warning you.”

You wanted to say it was okay, and while you understood she had to have been under a tremendous amount of stress, you still had a few unanswered questions. “So it’s true?”

Agatha chuckled, and you wondered if you should’ve stayed quiet. “It’s true, but I haven’t talked to Wanda, much less seen her since Greece.” She noticed your downcast expression and sighed. “Y/N, it’s not what you think.”

You scoffed, attempting to stay calm. “So you didn’t have an affair with Wanda?”

Agatha arched an eyebrow at your tone, but continued on. “It was an indiscretion, and a mistake I believe I will regret for the rest of my life.” You stayed silent, stewing over her words, so she kept going. “It was over at the end of that summer. Wanda broke it off, and that’s that.”

“That’s that?” You asked quietly. “So you don’t…” trailing off, you quickly decided you didn’t want to know the answer to the question you were most worried about.

Agatha gently set Señor Scratchy down next to her before turning to look at you. “You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, but there is absolutely nothing there.”

“You’re sure?”

“Wanda is incredibly infuriating and I am looking forward to being done with this concert series.” Agatha said, reaching across to grab your hand. “Do you trust me?”

That was an excellent question. Did you trust Agatha? On the outside the conductor appeared moody and stand-offish to the world. She had incredibly high standards, and was extremely demanding. You watched her make people cry in every MSO rehearsal, and had sent countless interns running for the hills. On paper Agatha should be the last person you trust.

But then there was the Agatha you knew. The brooding conductor who made sure you ate when you were stressed, and offered you rides home when leaving work too late. Agatha pushing you against the piano and kissing you. Agatha making you dinner and showing you her home. Agatha who made your insides feel like they were being filled with rays of sunshine every time she looked at you. You trusted Agatha. You loved her.

“I trust you,” you confirmed. “No more secrets?”

Agatha smirked. “What’s life without secrets darling?”

You wondered if you should bring up the audition you had with Natasha, when the beeping of your phone grabbed your attention, and you excused yourself as Agatha went to make tea. Going through your voicemail, you had one message from a number you didn’t recognize.

“Y/N, sorry to be calling so late. I know I said you’d hear from me in a few days, but I don’t see any point in delaying this. I want you to join my group in Vienna. I’ll have an official offer sent over in the morning. Take a few days to think it over.” There was a pause before Natasha added: “But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Let me know whatever you decide.”

“Y/N?” Agatha’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Have you eaten anything?”

Unfortunately you barely registered Agatha’s question as you replayed the voicemail; making sure you heard Natasha correctly. You made it in. You did it. The happiness and joy you felt was quickly replaced by looming dread. What were you going to tell Agatha?

“Y/N?” Agatha’s voice was growing closer. “Is everything alright?”

Agatha’s eyes searched yours, and you nodded, placing your phone in your back pocket. “Yeah, everything’s great.”

[akaashisbabygirl]

the tutor

if you know the original source of this picture! please dm me or let me know in my inbox so i can tag them

Summary: akaashi keiji isn’t just a normal tutor. in fact, he has strong, sexual feelings for the girl he has to tutor. but what he doesn’t know is that late at night, she thinks about him too while her fingers stuff her cunt

A/n: i did it. i actually did it. i took a short 300 word story about akaashi being a tutor and turned it into a fic. i hope that you all enjoy this. i tried to keep the same style while writing but i’m not sure if i nailed it :/ nevertheless, i hope that you enjoy and have a great 2021 

Words: 2667

Pairings: tutor!akaashi x female!reader

Warnings: nsfw - male and female masturbation, oral (giving and receiving), vaginal penetration, sex toy use, fingering, riding, multiple positions, overstimulation, praise, akaashi calling reader angel

Just seeing you sitting there, your legs shut together, your tongue flicking out of your spread lips as you concentrated on the equation made Akaashi wonder what would happen if the two of you were in the bedroom alone together.

He watched your lips, wondering how you would look with your shiny pink lips wrapped around his cock. He wondered what you would look like, with your legs shaking, cum dripping down your thighs, hickeys decorating your skin as he pins you down onto the bed, his cock thrusting into your tight walls.

He wondered what pretty noises you would make as he ruins you, tears your tight hole open, leaving you a dripping mess filled with his cum. Thinking about the way your freshly done makeup would run down your face, the way you would close your legs to hide your body from his eyes.

Akaashi sat there, daydreaming in the open. He didn’t even realise that you had stopped working on the equation.

“All done? he asked.

Akaashi knew that you were a virgin, and he wanted to ruin you. He wanted to be the only guy you would go crawling to when you were needy, and that at moments late at night when you touched yourself, you would only think about him, and be reminded that you can’t even pleasure yourself the way Akaashi can. How Akaashi’s fingers could reach deeper in your cunt than your own, small ones.

“Yes! Give me something harder,” you wore a cheerful smile on your face as you asked for a harder equation.

Akaashi chuckled as he pretended to be thinking of an equation to give you. But secretly, he thought about how he wanted to throw everything on the table aside and give you a reward for doing so well.

“Alright, how about this one?” Akaashi asked, handing you back the piece of paper, seeing how your eyes widened at the question.

“I don’t know that…” you said softly, almost as if you sounded like you were trying to admit defeat to the male.

Akaashi could only chuckle, his hand slowly moving to rest on your soft thigh as he looked over your shoulder, watching how you took on the equation.

Your thigh was soft. So soft. He wondered what your thighs would feel like, wrapped around his neck as he went down on you, his soft tongue sliding over your dripping folds. Or the way your legs would wrap his waist, his cock pushing through your walls and tearing you apart as you squirm underneath him.

“Is this right?”

Once again, your soft, adorable voice cut through the lewd thoughts spreading throughout his mind. With his face resting with a smile, he turned to you. A chuckle escaped his lips as he read over the equation.

“Oh darling, that’s not correct. Here… let me help you.”

Akaashi loved being in your company. He loved the feeling of you being close to him, again, which only made him wonder what it would be like if he were inside of you, the two of you becoming one. He secretly craved so much from the small university girl that he tutored, so much that he would rather die than express his thoughts.

However, what Akaashi was oblivious of was what happened whenever he went home. After leaving, you would rush yourself to your bedroom, small fingers moving to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud, moans and whimpers of his name falling from your lips. Truth was, you craved Akaashi more than he craved you, if that was remotely anywhere near possible.

You imagined him in between your legs, his soft black locks brushing against your soft skin, his large hands keeping your thighs spread as your back arches from all the sudden pleasure. You craved the sight of your cum coating Akaashi’s beautiful face, the way he would lick his lips before pushing you into a position on the bed, beginning to fuck you with a slow, deep pace which would have you screaming out for him.

But you knew that would never happen.

He was just the boy who was assigned to tutor you, not to come and take you in every way possible.

Akaashi was the same way, sitting on his bed, his cock in his hand, jacking off to the thought of you spread out for him. He wanted to feel what it was like to have your soft hands roaming around his body, your soft lips wrapped around his cock, eyes directly watching his every movement as you take more of him into your mouth. Akaashi climaxed, his hair thrown back against the bed as he panted.

He wanted to be with you. He desired you, he wanted to feel you against him. The love that he felt was going unnoticed, the love that strongly sat there for you to run into his arms, pressing your lips against him as the two of you look at each other with such love.

The next tutor session was nothing new – not that it had changed at all. Overtime, the two of you had begun to get closer and closer. You were fine with Akaashi resting his large hand on your thigh, and you noticed how he would slowly move his hand higher. You even tried bucking your hips at him, wearing shorter clothing just to find a way to get him to touch you more.

Akaashi wanted to punish you for wearing short clothing, but he thought that somewhere there was the same feelings he felt for you rushing through your mind.

Every other session felt like the same day on repeat. The same hours of questions and work, only to pleasure yourself when Akaashi would go home.

You opened the door for Akaashi, believing it were to be just another normal day of the two of you working on equations together. Akaashi stood there, a large hoodie in the freezing cold. You began to shiver somewhere throughout the session, causing Akaashi to panic, pulling his hoodie from his body, revealing some of his muscles in the process, which only made you drool more at the sight of his toned body.

You inhaled the scent of his cologne on the hoodie, the way the jumper was too big for your small body, the way it sat halfway down your thighs. Akaashi loved the sight of you wearing his hoodie, even making a comment about how you should wear his hoodie more often. He knew that if he wanted this relationship to progress in anyway, he needed to start being more vocal, other than just sitting there and waiting for you to make the first move. He was smart enough to know that was never going to happen.

“You should wear it more often,” he whispered into your ear as you washed your hands in the bathroom.

Your eyes darted to the mirror, watching how he had to move himself, leaning down so he was able to whisper into your ear. The way his hand sat on the bathroom sink, his other hand, his pointer finger tucking your hair behind your ear. You felt his hot breath on your skin, squeezing your thighs shut to try and relive the ache that sat there.

Yet, once again, you waited for Akaashi to leave before you did anything.

You threw your head back as the vibrator sat on your clit on its highest setting. Akaashi’s hoodie you wore, bunched up at your waist. Your legs shook from the intense pleasure, back arching as cries of his name fell from your lips. You wanted it to be him, not some stupid toy. You could only imagine, pretending your fingers weren’t your own, that it was Akaashi holding the toy on your clit, looking down at you as you squirmed on the bed.

Akaashi was no better, because every night, he thought the same.

The next time was different. You gave Akaashi back his hoodie, but he told you to keep it, only causing you to blush. He knew that the two of you could never be a real couple, so he tried what he could do to make it seem as if the two of you were one.

Days progressed.

Akaashi sat anxiously in his seat, watching how you walked into the room, dressed in his large blue hoodie. Akaashi knew that he wanted you, and he could only think that you wanted him too. He watched as you moved over to him, sitting yourself down in his lap, legs on either side of him as you push your breasts to his chest, head resting in the crook of your neck as your arms wrap around him. Akaashi’s first instinct was to wrap his arms around your waist, holding you close. He could feel your panties against his thin shorts, wondering what you were wearing underneath the large hoodie.

“What’s the matter, angel?” the nickname made your panties wet.

You grinded your hips on his lap. Akaashi took in a sharp breath, not wanting to become hard for nothing.

“You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that,” he mumbled against your skin.

You knew what you were doing. In fact, it had been what you had been planning for ages now. You wanted Akaashi to be the one to take your virginity, you were sure of it.

“Take me… Akaashi. I want you to take me,” you let your lips graze the skin of his neck, sucking lightly on his beautiful skin.

You felt him become hard underneath you, your panties growing damper as you moved your hips. Akaashi wasn’t having it, pulling you from him and watching how you dropped down onto your knees in front of him.

Shaking his head, he mumbled a soft, “Not here.”

You nodded, softly holding his hand and taking him upstairs to the same place you had sinful thoughts about him and did sinful things while moaning out his name. He watched as you pushed him down onto the bed, climbing over him. You rested yourself in between Akaashi’s thighs, spreading them to your liking. Shaky fingers moved to his belt, pulling it off and throwing it to the ground, tugging his pants, as well as his boxers down his legs. Akaashi took in a deep breath as the sight he dreamed of appeared before his turquoise coloured eyes.

He watched as you took the tip of his semi hard cock into your mouth, moving his hands to your hair, wrapping it around his hand, tugging slightly, forcing you to take more of him into your mouth. You gagged slightly, but continued to suck him off, letting your tongue run along his most sensitive spots.

“Fuck, y-you don’t know how long I’ve b-been waiting for this,” he groaned out, watching how you maintained eye contact with him while having his cock shoved down your throat.  

Akaashi let go of your hair, tucking it slightly behind your ear. He grabbed onto the bedsheets for support, moans falling from his lips that he wasn’t afraid to show. He bucked his hips up into your mouth, causing you to gag around him once more.

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he muttered, stroking your hair slowly, “Taking me in your mouth like the good girl that you are.”

At one moment, Akaashi’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he climaxed into your mouth. He watched as you pulled yourself off his cock, watching as you swallowed his cum, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show that you had.

Akaashi flipped you over, praising you, calling you a good girl as he shoved the hoodie up, letting it bunch at your waist. He noticed the red lace panties which sat underneath, his eyes widening when he noticed the damp spot in the middle, right where your dripping cunt was. He pulled his hoodie from your body, removing his shirt so he was fully naked. His eyes widened, seeing the matching red lace bra that you wore.

Akaashi’s fingers were skilled, easily removing your panties and bra. His lips moved to suck around your hardened nipple. His lips sucked dark, purple marks down your soft skin. Your body was softer than he thought it was. He loved the way you felt, the way your innocent demeanour changed when the two of you were alone.

His lips attached to your clit, a cry of his name leaving his lips as he began to suck lightly on your most sensitive spot. His fingers toyed with your entrance, collecting your wetness on his long digits. He needed to prep you for when he was to fuck you.

Lust and the way your tight velvety walls clenched around Akaashi’s digits filled his mind, the way your hands gripped onto the sheets, your hips would move and how angelic you sounded when you cried out his name. He wanted more. He needed more.

“Kaashi’ I’m gonna fucking cum… O-Oh, you’re gonna m-make me fucking cum.”

That’s what he did. He made you climax all over his digits, his tongue now dipping down to your entrance to taste you.

The two of you were stripped of your clothing, looking at each other with lust filled eyes. Akaashi pulled you closer to him, attaching his lips to yours, sharing a soft, passionate kiss.

“Where are your condoms?” he mumbled in between kisses.

“Top drawer on the left.”

Akaashi climbed off the bed, opening the drawer. He observed the small bullet vibrator he found, bringing it out along with one of the condoms. He slipped the condom onto his length, hovering over you.

“Tell me if you need me to stop.”

Yes, there was a slight pain when he thrusted into you, but it felt too good. Pain was washed away with the pleasure of being filled, the pleasure of having Akaashi’s lips on your neck as you moaned underneath him.

“F-Faster,” you moaned out slightly, wanting to be pounded into by the boy.

Akaashi wouldn’t take no as an answer, not when he’s here fucking the girl he’s always wanted to. Slowly, he increased the speed, grabbing hold of your vibrator and pressing it against your clit. You cried out, cursing at the way the boy found your favourite toy and decided to use it against you.

His hands reached out for the headboard, grabbing onto it as he quickened his pace. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, tongue slightly sticking out of your mouth as drool dripped down your chin.

A sharp cry left your lips as you climaxed again, this time, around his cock. You felt Akaashi pull out of you, throwing the toy onto the bed.

“Ride me.”

His voice was harsh, commanding you, not giving you any options.

You straddled his waist once again, feeling his cock enter you from now a completely different angle. Your hands rested around his neck, as his sat on your waist and guided you up and down his cock.

Your head was thrown back as Akaashi moved his to suck lightly on your nipples. Intense pleasure soared through your body as you were driven to your third climax of the night. Your body felt weak, unable to move on its own.

Instead, Akaashi pulled out of you once more, shoving your back down on the bedsheets, moving your legs to sit on his shoulders as he entered you once again. His hand intertwined with yours as he mumbled against your skin,

“Cum with me.”

And that’s what happened. The two of you climaxed at the same time, just like how the characters did in every smut you had read. He pulled out, watching how your cum dripped from your abused hole. He smirked, moving his fingers to your hole, stuffing your cum back into your body.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, angel.”

You could now say, that every tutoring session, you two studied each other’s bodies.

© all content belongs to akaashisbabygirl 2020, do not repost or change

[chisiuwu]

sorry for disappearing from here, i'm still drawing but i kind of took a break from social media some weeks ago and i didn't bother to update tumblr. i will come back and post my latest drawings soon, but i probably won't read dms, reblogs, notes or asks for a while. maybe months. a friend showed me my inbox messages (i was too anxious to open them myself--) and most of them were nice, so thank you for supporting me, it genuinely means a lot that you took the time to write nice words and reach out to me; to the person who asked me to tag more properly certain arts, i will take your critique into consideration too

if you follow me in other social media, you probably already noticed i disabled notifications, replies and dms, and it seems that i'm pretty much unreachable. i don't particularly enjoy it either, but this is better than having strangers making me uncomfortable – i said it on twitter but, fandom drama* apart, i'm not a very social person and comments are a bit overwhelming now that my art is popular (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠) i do appreciate every single good reply i get, but twitter and instagram (especially twitter) are very hostile towards art, in the sense that it gets seen for only 5 seconds and people act either like the artist won't read what they have to say or like they need to please people's desires. the good thing is that i'm not a very emotional person either and now that the Big Thing is over i can just relax and enjoy the very few interactions i get from my mutuals and friends

(*the fandom drama in question was adressed in a twitter thread i don't regret making even though it got blown out of proportion. i said what i said and i thought about it very carefully before posting it)

the reason i'm spilling my thoughts here is precisely because tumblr posts survive better than tweets or whatever the hell insta stories are. i can freely say what i need to say not having to adjust my words into a certain format. for example, i wanted to remind everyone that i'm not mad over people who unfollowed or broke the mutual for whatever reason. especially if you're an artist and we kind of got along, i genuinely hold no resentment and it'd be okay for me to interact again (except if you subtweeted me in that case k1ll y0urself). i also ran a chainblock extension on google chrome that basically blocked every quote i had on certain tweets, or people retweeting tweets calling me out. i have literally zero memory of who said what, and if you either got caught up or you have changed your mind and want to get unblocked, you can try to get in contact with any of my mutuals to tell me! last thing i want to say is a bit obvious, but i ever create something that makes anyone uncomfortable, i can't care less about being unfollowed over it. i am educated enough to understand what kind of impact my art has, and if anything i ever did was truly hurtful, my friends would tell me. i am just drawing anime lesbians

so, if you've read this far: 1) i won't stop making art, don't worry about me because i will come back and i am also one of the very few mentally stable lgbt people in the world 2) it always makes me incredibly happy to connect with others through my works, and i'm very thankful towards every person that has ever left a positive impact on my life, even towards those who are silently following for any reason they may have. i hope you are all having a nice day ♡

[fandcmwritings]

Until the very end | part 2

< Part 1 > <Part 3>pls reblog!

set in 4x09

a/n: Carl and the reader are introduced! lets see where their relationship will take them, only time will tell. Hope you enjoy besties.

comment what you think and if you wanna be added to the tag list pls leave it in my inbox :)

“No problem.”

The guy now seemed to have catched his breath and was now looking up at you. His eyes scanned your face and a look of confusion was plastered all over his own.

“Why’d you save me?” He asked.

You realized he still hadn’t completed let his guard down so you decided to put away your knife that you were still holding in your hands firmly. You didn’t exactly trust him, but he looked around your age so you decided to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Just thought that i’d spare you from getting eaten to death.” You replied casually as you studied his next moves carefully.

The guy chuckled lightly and now put his gun back in his holster.

“What’s your name?”

“Y/n, what’s yours?”

“Carl.”

You smiled at him and extended your hand which he returned, his smile only faltering for a second. The thought of you killing him crossed his mind. But why would you have saved him from the walkers if you wanted him dead? So he took your hand, hoping you were one of the good guys.

“What were you trying to do by the way? Attracting all those zombies like that.” You decided to walk back to the main road. Carl followed suit, now walking next to you. “You know you could’ve attracted more that way.”

“Yea I know. I thought I had it under control, one of them just took me by surprise I guess.” He sighed, clearly annoyed by his own actions.

“Well Carl, you owe me now.”

He looked at you confused.

“What do you mean?” He asked.

You laughed at his expression. Weird or concerning thoughts were probably circling around in his head right now.

“It’s nothing bad, calm down cowboy,” You gave him a small smirk which he returned with an eyeroll. “Just asking if I could stay with you and whoever you’re staying with, if you’re not alone that is. I’m kinda on my own since yesterday and I don’t like it one bit.”

“I’m with my dad, he usually decides if we can let someone stay. He’s currently out cold though so as long as you answer three questions i’m about to ask you I think it’s fine.”

“What are the questions?” You asked him as you both approached a house in the neighbourhood. It looked nice (as nice as a house could look like in the apocalypse) there was a lot of knocked down garden furniture but that was about it. Hopefully it looked good inside too. “Is this where you’re staying?” You added to your question.

“No, i was looking for supplies until i met you.”

He made his was onto the lawn and you watched him debate on something until he grabbed a lamp that was sticking inside the grass. It was sharp, so it could be used against the zombies. You had to admit it was smart.

“Anyway, i’ll ask you the questions if you help me find supplies.”

“Deal.”

You were about to head to the door, see if it was open or not but Carl beat you to it. He didn’t try the door like a normal person though, he ran straight into it. The door didn’t budge and the boy fell backwards into the ground.

You couldn’t help but laugh. That was the funniest thing you’ve seen since months. What did he expect?

“Damn it,” He sighed and leaned his head on the porch. “Stop laughing it wasn’t funny.”

“It kinda was though.” You snickered.

————————

You and Carl headed into the house while he started to ask you the three questions he mentioned before.

“How many walkers have you killed?” He asked you while walking around the house with his gun aimed at entrances that could potentially contain zombies, or walkers as Carl calls them.

“Too many to count. I’ve been on the road for a solid three years and i’ve killed at least one every day.” You answered honestly.

Carl looked at you and you couldn’t read his expression properly? You didn’t have time to dwell on it since Carl already moved on to the next one.

“How many people have you killed?”

That one struck a nerve. Flashbacks from two days ago filled your mind. Your brother was sitting against a tree and begging you to kill him before it was too late.

“Three.” Your voice came out quieter than you expected. You didn’t want to sound weak but your trembling voice said otherwise.

“Why?”

“Two of them attacked me and it left me with no choice..” You trailed of. You hated the fact that it had such an effect on you. It was the apocalypse for fucks sake.

“What about the third one?” Carl asked watching you carefully. He quickly took notice of your change in demeanour.

“The third one was my brother. It was two days ago. He got bit..”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t say that. It’s part of life now isn’t it?”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t mourn the ones we’ve lost.”

“Maybe not. But there’s no time for any of that now. I’ve learned that the hard way,” You ignored his gaze and looked around the kitchen for something you could eat. “Anyway, did I pass your test?”

Carl looked up at you and smiled.

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Great ‘cause I just found a huge amount of pudding and I wasn’t gonna share it with you if you said I didn’t.” You said jokingly as you grabbed the tiny stool in the kitchen and grabbed the container.

Carl’s eyes went wide at the sight. Its been a good 5 years since he last had a bite of chocolate pudding. However, as much as he wanted to dive in he knew you both had to check the rest of the house first so you knew it was safe.

You hoped it was. You really did.

—————-

Next>>>

heyy sorry this was so short i promise to make longer chapters in the future :)

taglist:

@writteriguess @sarahwasfound