#i literally wrote this during a free period

[alrightieaphroditie]

wipe my tears away | j.m.

*:·ﾟ✧ series masterlist | previous part!

pairing *:·ﾟ afab!reader x joel miller wc *:·ﾟ6.6k  warnings *:·ﾟ18+! minors please do not interact!! talk of period pain, hormonal emotions, crying, kissing, some manhandling (if you squint), sad attempt at dirty talk, period play (lightly), fingering, maybe some degradation (not really sure), clit stimulation, overstimulation, multiple orgasms (f receiving), squirting/messy cum, p in v penetration (not protected, do better!), one mention of blood… please let me know if i’m missing any major ones!  an *:·ﾟthis is for the girlies who get over emotional during their periods (they are me, i am them). this is a bit longer than intended, but once i got in the zone i literally couldn’t stop, so i hope y’all will enjoy it! kind of unedited, so if anything major jumps out feel free to comment lol. i also wrote this with correct capitalization, where all my previous fics were lowercase bc i couldn’t be bothered to turn on auto caps, so let me know if y’all prefer this format!  check the series masterlist for the series tags!

synopsis *:·ﾟ joel comes home to find you laying in bed, crying because of period pain. he may not be a full gentleman, but he wouldn’t let you suffer when he has a trick up his sleeve to help sooth the cramps. 

The pain that begins in your lower abdomen, the feeling that radiates throughout the rest of your lower body with enough force to make you wince, isn’t entirely new. It’s a monthly occurrence, actually. One that you feel like you should be used to by now, considering it’s plagued you for more than half your life. 

But the outbreak had already happened when you first got your period as a teen, and for a while, your body wasn’t receiving the nutrients it needed to sustain that kind of function. It was a double-edged sword, the way you were appreciative that you haven’t had it this bad your entire life, while ruminating on the losses that occurred due to the infection. 

Because it was a different story, now. 

Now, you were eating more than you could ever remember before. Jackson was a thriving community, after all. And you were beyond blessed that you were one of the lucky ones who got to reside within its gates. Now, your body was properly fed and being taken care of for the first time in years, and that double-edged sword reared in your mind again; thankful for the safe space you’ve landed upon, but God, at what cost? Your period pain took you out for days each month, making you feel like a burden even though you physically couldn’t help it. 

Your toe stubbed against a chair in your living room as another cramp worked its way through your body, causing you to cry out for more than one reason. Tears filled your waterline, and a heavy sigh escaped past your lips. The rough material of your jeans was digging into your waistline, your hair felt heavy against your neck and each strand that brushed against your cheek made you want to cut it off, and you just felt so useless. Some logical part of your brain realized this wasn’t really you feeling this way, it was just the hormonal shift, but that didn’t provide any sense of comfort as the tears continued to glide down your face. 

In some ways, you were lucky, as today had been your day off from helping around Jackson. Otherwise, that sense of being a burden to everyone would’ve increased tenfold. You couldn't stop feeling like a burden to yourself, though. You had made a perfectly organized to-do list that was hanging on your fridge of things you wanted to tackle today. 

Your sheets needed to be washed. The floors needed to be swept and mopped, especially after the rain, as Joel and Ellie continued to trek mud through your house by accident. Maria had given you some of the spices that grew in abundance, and you wanted to make one of those simmer pots on the stove that she kept mentioning. 

But doing those chores was the last thing on your mind right now, as another cramp racked its way through your body. Now, you just wanted to go lay in bed wearing nothing but Joel's shirt that you had thrown on earlier and cry while hugging a pillow.

 And so, that’s what you did. 

Your vision was watery as your fingers swiftly worked to unbutton your pants, your feet carrying you out of the living room and into your bedroom before you really even realized what you were doing. Once you hit your bedside, you tugged the jeans down your legs, letting them pool at your feet and leaving them on the ground as you crawl into bed, feeling about as pathetic as you probably looked. Curling up on your side, you reach out blindly and grab onto Joel's pillow, tucking it against your body and letting it provide you a false sense of comfort. After that, the tears start flowing freely. 

You didn’t know how long you laid there, didn’t know how long the sound of your sniffles had filled the room or how long you pressed the pillow against your abdomen. The cramps were still relentless, and it wasn’t like you even had any medicine you could take; expired Tylenol did absolutely nothing anymore. You wish you were more used to this feeling, this pain. But it seemed like the longer you were at Jackson, the worse the symptoms became each month. You had yet to figure out the remedies that were foolproof for this feeling. 

Continuous tears turned into lonely, stray droplets as you held onto the pillow. The room was silent except for the occasional sniff. You had zeroed in on an undone thread on the pillowcase, not paying attention to your surroundings, so you didn’t hear the sound of the front door being pushed open, or the sound of Joel's work boots stomping across the wooden floors. In the corners of your mind, you recognized the voice that was muttering to himself outside your room, but your eyes stayed focused on that singular thread. 

The thought of it being lonely, being apart from the other threads holding the fabric together, made your eyes water again. You could put yourself in its position, the ever present fear of being alone daunting you even now, and that was enough to send the tears over your waterline, racing down your cheeks and onto the pillow once again. The hiccup that came from your inhale was the noise that had the footfalls move towards your room, and through your blurry vision you saw the outline of Joel standing in the doorway. 

“What's wrong?” Through your sniffles, you could sense his urgency, his rough voice filled with nothing but concern, and maybe a little worry. His gaze swept over your body, checking for any possible injury. This was the first time he’d seen you break down to this level, and the sight of you curled into a fetal position, tears streaming down your face with his pillow in your grasp… he prayed to God that another person wasn’t involved with making you feel this way.

It would be a shame to lose his good reputation amongst Jackson because he had to beat some fucker up. 

Your gaze swung up to his face, and you made yourself blink harshly to expel the lingering tears. His face came into focus, the worry lines on his forehead becoming more clear to compliment the frown on his full lips. He had a spot of dirt streaking across his forehead, and his clothes were dirty from spending the day working outside. For whatever reason, the fact that Joel had been out working in the heat for most of the day while you couldn’t even manage to get up and wash your bedsheets made your emotions spiral even more. What is wrong with me? you wondered, hugging the pillow tighter to your body. 

The sound of his work bag hitting the floor echoed through the room, soon followed by the shuffle of his boots being kicked off his feet. His hands were gently pulling the pillow away before you could even register that he was in front of you now, but you felt the bed dip under his weight as he perched himself at the edge. His broad hand rested on your elbow before sliding up your arm, gently caressing your skin until he reached the side of your face. The calluses on his thumb scratched against your skin as he swiped the digit under your eye, wiping away the tears that had pooled. 

“Baby, what’s wrong?” his voice was softer this time, comforting you in a way that had you feeling alright for the first time today. You leaned up on your elbows, and Joel helped guide you into a sitting position across from him, your hands holding on to one of his while his other cupped your face, thumb swiping against skin. The action of sitting up had your cramps rearing their ugly heads again, and your wince was subtle but extremely obvious to Joel, evident by the furrowing of his eyebrows. 

“My uterus is what’s wrong,” the scratchiness of your throat had you coughing slightly, and you worked to clear it before trying again, voice nearly as weak as you felt. “I'm on my period.” Joel's eyes widened in surprise at your admission, but he quickly schooled his features.

This wasn’t his first rodeo; he’d been with you for awhile now, but noticed that each month your symptoms were different. Sometimes, your sudden anger at everything gave away the fact that it was that time of the month. Other times, it was your sweet tooth and your cravings that gave it away. Rarely was it your tears, though, and his heart lurched at this new response. 

When your hands went to wrap around your stomach, applying pressure lightly to help ease the throbbing, his free hand came up to the other side of your face. “‘m sorry, darlin. Know that ain’t the best feeling in the world,” his thumbs were doing a stand up job at wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and soon the only sign that you had been crying was the red glaze surrounding your pupils. 

And the occasional sniffle. 

You leaned into his touch, eyes closing at the surprising amount of comfort that you felt from a pair of hands. You always felt at peace with Joel, though, so you weren’t surprised that his hands had this effect on you. You focused on the rough pads of his skin against the smooth texture of your own, taking in big breaths of air through your nose as your crying spell passed through you. Now you were thinking a little more clearly and felt a little embarrassed by the fact that Joel had walked in on you crying over a thread on a pillow case. Not that he’d ever know that’s what you were crying about. 

“It's okay. I'm sorry if i scared you or anything,” you started, opening your eyes to meet Joel's dark gaze. You offered him a small smile. “I really just need to learn how to deal with these cramps without them taking over my day. They seem to be getting worse and worse each month.” Your hands trailed up to grip his forearms, squeezing them affectionately as a wave of exhaustion flitted through your body. 

Joel's eyes squinted slightly. “Cramps, huh?” he mused, the corner of his mouth quirking up ever so slightly. In the far corner of his mind, he recalled a younger Tommy swearing by a foolproof activity that helped one of his girlfriends with her cramps when medicine didn’t cut it. He wasn’t sure he believed Tommy then, or even now, for that matter. But he knew how much you struggled with the pain, and he’d feel like a real jerk if he didn’t at least give this a go. 

“Think I know somethin’ that could help with that.” He pulled your head forward, pressing a chaste kiss on top of your forehead before dropping his hands and pushing off of the bed. You were slightly dazed, partly at the display of affection but also at the quickness in which Joel was walking to the bathroom. When he came back into the room with an old towel, you couldn’t help but look at him suspiciously. 

“Joel…”

“Do you trust me?” He asked, tossing the towel on the bed and leaning down to look at you, eye to eye. His demeanor was calm, but his eyes shined with a hint of mischievousness, and the smirk on his mouth was nothing but trouble. It made him look younger, almost. Like the gray in his beard and around the temples of his hair was there prematurely. You wondered if he was like that more before the outbreak, and you reveled in this glimpse of his past self that he was allowing you to see. 

“Of course I do.” Your answer was absolute, eyes showing no signs of distrust or wariness as you maintained contact with Joel’s. He reveled in the sureness of your answer, in the fact that it didn’t even take you more than a second to respond to his question. The smirk became a full blown grin, and you couldn’t help but mirror it on your own face as you wondered what the heck this man was thinking. 

“Good. In that case, I'm gonna go clean myself up,” his lips pressed against yours in a swift kiss before he backed away, fingers stretching to the hem of his t-shirt. “You’re gonna strip out of those panties, spread that towel out underneath you, and wait for me to come back. Okay?” One of his eyebrows notched up, awaiting your response. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” you teased, sending him off with a mocking salute. It earned you an eye roll, something he had been picking up more and more from Ellie's influence, no doubt. The sound of your giggle followed him into the bathroom, where he quickly worked to discard his dirty clothes and rinse off. The thought of you laying in bed with just his t-shirt on had him adjusting himself underneath the water stream. 

Meanwhile, you were working at a slower pace. 

You gingerly took the threadbare towel between your hands, kneeling up on your knees to place it where you thought would work best. You were starting to get an idea of what Joel was planning, and while you’ve never done anything like this before, you weren’t absolutely hating it. After you had smoothed the fabric out, you climbed back against the pillows, hooking your thumbs under the waistband of your panties and sliding them down. The pad on the inside showed slight signs of blood, so at least you weren’t bleeding too heavily right now. Usually that came after a day or two of the cramps. 

You were combing your fingers through your hair when Joel walked back into the room, pausing at the threshold while you both took each other in. His hair was damp, droplets of water occasionally dripping on his forehead, brushed back at the edges and the tops to keep it out of his face. He had been growing it out a little longer, though you knew when summer fully came around, it’d be time to clip it. 

He’d changed out of a plain, gray t-shirt into another plain, gray t-shirt - clearly a staple in his wardrobe - and you had to admire the way he was filling it out. The sleeves hugged the middle of his biceps, straining against the pure muscle that had been building up. The shirt fit loose around his chest, but you could see the way it was snug around his tummy area, the small pouch of his stomach highlighted by the thin material. 

You weren’t the only one who had been eating better since arriving at Jackson; Joel was starting to bulk up and you were loving it. 

Having ended his workday earlier, and foreseeing spending the rest of the day in bed with you, he had pulled on a pair of flannel pajama pants that clung to his thighs and offered very little to the imagination when it came to the thick imprint between his legs. The sight of him had your thighs clenching together automatically, heat racing through your body like a fever. 

And he knew it, too. You could tell by the smirk on his lips, the way his gaze strayed from your eyes to your legs. He loved having that affect on you, loved seeing how needy you became by just the thought of being with him. 

He walked to the other side of the bed, his eyes focused solely on you in his red shirt, the way your legs were crossed at the bottom, giving him just the smallest peak of bare skin underneath. You listen to him so well, he couldn’t help but admire. You gave him your trust so easily, and that was one of the few things that Joel considered to be precious in this world. He'd never make you regret that choice. 

Leaning up on your elbows, your body naturally turned towards him when he finally settled himself on his side next to you. One of his arms slipped behind your head, tucking you into his body as the other came up to guide your face to his. His lips were soft against your own, and all the tension you had felt from crying earlier completely disappeared. 

Your hands clung to his arm as he kissed you, a soft sigh escaping through your lips. Joel took the opening to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue against your bottom lip before dipping it into your mouth. Your mind was growing fuzzy, and you simply let Joel manipulate you how he wanted, eagerly offering yourself to him. 

His mouth stayed on yours, your noses brushing against each other with every tilt of the head, but his hand strayed from your cheek. It paved a path to the collar of the t-shirt, where he fisted the material and tugged it towards himself, halfway pulling you on top of him with the movement. Your hands flung out to his chest to stop yourself from completely crashing into him, and a groan sounded against your mouth as Joel felt the tips of your fingers dig into the skin. 

He soon abandoned the collar, letting his palm slide down the expanse of your torso and bunching the shirt up a little before settling it right over your lower abdomen, fingers splayed out wide against your bare skin. The heat radiating from his palm on your skin was like your own personal heating pad; the soreness that ebbed from your cramps seemed to dissipate the longer his hand rested against your skin, the action making your head spin as you focused on breathing through your nose as Joel’s tongue traced along yours. 

Joel’s mouth trailed from your lips down to your jaw, down to your neck. The stubble growing on his face scratched at your skin when he nuzzled himself in the crook of your neck, causing a combination of a laugh and a moan to flutter past your lips. You could feel him smile against your skin before nipping at it gently, using his lips and tongue to ebb the slight pain away. You could feel him sucking at your skin, and you knew in the morning you’d regret the red and purple marks that would litter your skin, but right now, the feeling was absolute heaven. 

“Spread those legs for me, baby.” The words were whispered against your skin, accompanied by a quick tap to your thighs. You didn’t hesitate to obey; your left leg fell to the side while you rested your right leg on top of Joel's. His hand slipped from your stomach to your upper thigh, gripping the fleshy inside as he helped adjust it higher on his body. 

The cool air from the fan had you shivering as it made contact with your bare skin, emphasizing the wet slick that had formed between your legs. Joel's mouth found itself back on yours, his kiss turning punishing, almost, as his hand slowly moved down your inner thigh; his teeth were biting and pulling at your lower lip, his fingers were digging into your skin as he kneaded and gripped your thigh. 

“Joel,” you mewled, stretching up slightly to angle your hips closer to his hand. You were settled in the crook of his elbow, and his arm came up to bare against your throat ever so slightly. He essentially had you in a headlock, and you were helpless to anything he administered. Goosebumps prickled along your skin, and you whined once more when his fingers brushed against the crease of your leg. 

“Shh, s’okay, baby. Let me take care of you,” his words were soothing, soft. A complete contrast to the way he was handling your body, and it was all you could do but nod in response, eyes wide and trusting as they held contact with him. His pupils were so dilated that you could barely see the rim of brown, even this close. 

Another sharp tap to your inner thigh had you gasping, and Joel's mouth formed into a smirk as his calloused fingers eased the spot. You’d like to blame the hormones fluttering around your body for the desperation you were feeling for Joel, but part of you knew that he simply just had this affect on you. You always grew so needy for his attention, for his touch. Being with him was the only time your brain truly shut off and allowed you to feel safe, relaxed. 

His fingertips were stroking the inside of your thigh like it was the strings on one of his guitars, a slow but firm sensation that had you humming; he was playing a different kind of instrument with you. You could feel yourself growing slicker, the bubble in your chest expanding as he teased you, touched you. 

“Joel, please…” you trailed off, turning your head to the side and bumping the edge of his jaw with your nose. His gaze had slipped to where his fingers were caressing your skin, basking in the suppleness of your skin that so vastly compared to the roughness of his. You felt like a dream. 

“Such pretty manners,.” he mocked, grinning to himself before meeting your eyes once more. “Since you asked nicely, though…” The kiss he pressed on your nose was soft, but your focus was on how his fingers were finally crossing over the crease in your thigh, finally trailing down to your core. 

The first swipe of his fingers through your folds had a small moan emit from your mouth, and a curse came from Joel’s as he felt how wet you were already. “Shit, baby,” he muttered to himself more than anything, watching his fingers as he lifted them up into the light to see the shine. Chest heaving, you watched as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, watched as he placed them on his tongue before closing his lips around the digits and sucking on them while he pulled them out. 

His fingers were now wet with his spit, evident by the thin strand of saliva still connecting his mouth to his fingers. The sight alone had your toes curling against the mattress, your mouth open slightly as you watched him bring his hand back down to your pussy. Your breath left you as his second swipe was firmer, the tips of his fingers passing along your clit for a brief moment before moving back down. 

His forearm flexed slightly against your neck, his free hand moving down to brush against the top of your chest. One of your hands moved to grip his arm, nails digging into skin ever so slightly as Joel’s fingers brushed your entrance, swirling around slightly to gather the wetness that had formed. A soft sigh left his mouth as he felt you, and the next moment, two of his fingers were swiftly pushing inside of you. 

“Joel!” You gasped out, back arching into his touch as he pumped his fingers into you once, twice, three times before pulling them out. Joel huffed out a laugh at your whine from the loss of contact, glancing down at you to see your reaction to him circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. He was rewarded with the softest of sighs, and the sight of your eyes rolling shut while your mouth parted open. 

He didn’t hesitate to capture your lips with his, his mouth against yours as firm as his thumb on your clit. The kiss was quick, and Joel’s nose brushed against yours as he pulled back ever so slightly. “Such a pretty girl, achin’ for me to fill you up. My fingers feel real nice against your pussy now, don't they, baby?” 

A short and snappy nod was your form of a response, as you were solely focused on the way Joel’s middle finger was circling your clit now. Your hips bucked up as waves of pleasure wracked your body, Joel’s expert fingers bringing you relief you so desperately needed. The action had Joel smirking above you, had his hips grinding slightly against your thigh in a sad attempt at getting some friction for his now hard cock. 

Joel pulled back from his admissions on your clit, sliding his middle finger through the center of you before slowly inserting it back inside you. The gasp that left your mouth was music to his ears, and he began moving it in and out, curling it up once it was fully inside your wet pussy. Head falling back against Joel’s arm, your legs widening even further as Joel picked up a steady rhythm with his one finger. 

“So good, Joel,” you rasped, voice breathless as Joel’s finger curled against the spongy part inside of you that had your body jerking in response. Licking your lips, you pulled the bottom lip into your mouth, teeth sinking in as the pleasure continued to build up in your body. Your right hand moved to rest on his wrist, while the other stayed gripping his left forearm. 

Basking in your praise, Joel withdrew his middle finger and, when he pumped it back inside, added his ring finger. The addition had you groaning, feeling his two fingers stretch you out slowly as he pushed them inside and pulled them out. You felt Joel’s lips press against your forehead as he worked to pick up the pace, and soon all that could be heard in the room was the wet sound of your pussy being fucked by his fingers. 

“God, I could listen to you all night,” he mumbled, curling his fingers in a “come here” motion inside you and marveling at how drenched you sounded. “So fuckin’ wet for me, sweetheart. Haven’t even taken my cock yet, either, you needy thing.” 

His words only sparked the fire inside your chest even more, and soon you were moaning his name over and over again in some kind of sick prayer as he filled you with his fingers. Your mouth dropped open as his thumb moved to glide against your clit, pleasure radiating throughout your body. 

Your fingers dug half-moon indentions in Joel’s tanned skin as the waves of pleasure finally crested. 

Your body went rigid in his hold as your orgasm peaked, his fingers never ceasing in motion as your hips began to shake against his hand. He muttered soft praises as you came, moving his arm from across your chest and intertwining your fingers with his. You gasped for air as you came down, thighs twitching ever so slightly as you soon became putty against Joel’s body. 

Only then did he pull his fingers out from inside of you. He kissed your forehead once more, cupping your drenched pussy with the palm of his hand. Your chest was heaving still from the orgasm, body feeling tired once more but for a completely different reason. Resting your head back on Joel’s arm, you glance up at him, expecting him to move his hand away and maybe help you clean up. 

Instead, Joel’s dark gaze was solely focused on your pussy again. Instead of moving his hand away, he slowly moved it up your center, stopping only when his middle finger brushed against your clit. He moved his hand to the side slightly, letting the tips of his other fingers brush against the sensitive nub, before sliding it the other way. His action was slow, methodical even. 

“Joel,” you ventured, squeezing his hand that rested in yours. His jaw twitched, but that was the only response you got. He leaned up on his elbow, your hand moving up along the mattress as he did so. Now, your interlaced hands rested above you, on the pillow, as Joel’s upper body hovered on top of yours. 

Ever so slowly, Joel resumed the movement of his hand, sliding to one side before moving it to the other. His fingers all brushed against your clit, and the overstimulation you felt had your thighs closing together. 

“Keep ‘em open, baby.” Joel admonished, his grip on your hand tightening slightly. His free hand pushed away your left leg before returning back to your clit, and you swore you could feel the wetness lingering on your skin from him doing so. The roughness of the towel underneath you prickled at your skin as your hips twitched from the continued pleasure. 

“Joel,” you ventured again, this time more of a plea than anything. Tears formed on your waterline when he picked up the pace, his hand firmly rubbing against your clit each time he moved it. That bubble of pleasure formed more quickly in your chest, the feeling fiery and almost suffocating as Joel’s movements were relentless. 

“Give me one more,” his voice was rough, distant. “Just one more.” His hand dipped to cup your pussy once more, gliding up through your folds and moving the wetness from there up to your clit. The added lubrication and friction as Joel increased his pace had you crying out, body arching forward at the onslaught of pleasure. 

Your orgasm approached much faster this time, and you could feel your slick dripping down your skin onto the towel. “Oh my God,” you whimpered, your hand painfully holding onto Joel’s while the other, which had moved to rest on his hip, gripped his t-shirt. “Oh, God.” 

This time, when you came, the bubble dropped from your chest and to your stomach and your body went limp as soon as your orgasm tore through you. Your mind was a haze of euphoria, and if you were more cognizant you would have been embarrassed at the feeling of your wetness squirting out from you, would have felt heated at the way Joel praised your body. Instead, you were blissfully gone, basking in the sensation that only Joel’s fingers knew how to bring you. 

Joel’s hand slipped from yours as he pulled his arm up from underneath you, and before you were even aware of the shift, he was up on his knees, moving in between your legs and tugging his flannel pants down. “Gotta fuck you, baby. Jesus Christ, you came so good for me.” His hands bracketed your head as he leaned up against your body, the head of his leaking cock pressed against your wet slit. 

You hummed at his praise, wrapping your weak arms around his neck as you shifted your thighs a little wider to accommodate for his hips. You weren’t entirely sure you could handle another orgasm, but you knew you were desperate to have him inside of you. His head ducked down to yours, and you enthusiastically pressed your lips against his, enveloping his hips with your legs in consent. 

With a nip at your bottom lip, he slowly pressed the tip of his cock in between your folds, gathering the wetness that had accumulated near your entrance before moving his hips even further. The head of his cock pushed into your pussy, stretching you out even more than his fingers did previously. Joel groaned into your mouth as he pumped his hips slightly, pulling out of you before sinking just the tip inside you again.  

“Fuck, sweetheart. My fingers didn’t stretch out your pussy enough, huh? S’fuckin’ tight as hell around my cock.” One of his hands came to brush aside your hair, cupping the side of your face gently while his hips snapped into yours. You cried out against his mouth, the feeling of being filled so suddenly causing you to wince slightly. You welcomed this pain, however, as it quickly gave way to pleasure the more Joel rocked his hips against yours. 

Joel rested his hips against yours for a moment, his head falling down to your chest as he reveled in the tightness surrounding his cock. His breaths came out in short pants, the hand laying next to your head turning into a fist against the mattress. Your hips move up slightly, seeking out the pleasure even after coming twice before, and it brings Joel in further, causing you both to curse. 

“So desperate for me to fuck you,” Joel’s words are accented by short, quick thrusts up inside of you. He pushed up off of you, your arms falling to the bed beside you while your legs fall open as they untangle from his waist. His hands grip the inside of your thighs, and he leans his weight forward a little, pinning your legs to the bed. 

“I am, Joel. P-please fuck me,” you beg, gripping the sheets between your fingers as your hips meet his thrusts. Joel starts off slowly, implanting you fully on his cock before slowly pulling back until just the tip presses against your pussy. His bruising grip on your thighs holds your legs open while he works himself in and out of you, eyes cast on how your slick coats his cock, the occasional red streak coloring his flesh. 

A stray curl of hair falls from his previously brushed back hair, and you itch to swipe it back into place, but his pace quickens and your hold on the bed keeps you from banging against the bed frame. The sound of his cock entering your wet pussy fills the room, the indecency of it causing your skin to flush with heat. Joel’s groans start to find time with your whimpers, and soon the noises of sex are emitting throughout the bedroom, throughout the house. 

Joel’s hands move away from your thighs, traveling up your stomach and pushing up his red t-shirt to see your boobs bouncing with each thrust. He admires the peaks of your nipples, the way goosebumps arise on your flesh as it’s exposed to the cool air, before bringing both hands to grip onto them. His thumbs and forefingers pinch at your nipples, the pain mixing in with the pleasure seamlessly. 

Your eyes fall shut on a moan, body arching into his touch as you clench around Joel, causing him to curse. The familiar sensation of heat fills your body, that third orgasm floating slightly out of reach. You move one of your hands down to your pussy, resting it on your mound. Your fingertips brush against Joel’s cock every time he withdraws, and you moan at how slick he feels before bringing your fingers to your clit. 

“That’s it, baby. Make yourself come on my cock,” Joel encourages, gaze focused on the way your fingers nimbly play with your throbbing clit. His hands squeeze your breasts roughly one last time before he leans up, gripping your ankles and bringing your legs to rest on top of his shoulders. Your thighs press against his cock as he fucks you, adding in another level of pleasure for him as he fights back his orgasm. 

“Just like that, Joel. Just like that…oh!” Your cries fill the room as he pounds into you, your fingers increasing the pace against your clit. Your movements are shaky, not precise in the slightest, but you’re still sensitive and wound up from your previous orgasms that it doesn’t take much to get your third one going. With a few clumsy swipes of your middle finger against your clit, and Joel’s cock ruthlessly hammering in and out of you, your final orgasm floods through your body. 

Joel curses as he feels your pussy clench around him, making his movements stagger with how tight you become. He gives a few more deep thrusts, his own movements becoming shaky and less precise, and he soon slips out of you, rubbing the length of his cock along your pussy lips as you gush with your orgasm. With a grunt, he follows soon, his own cum spurting out of his red cockhead and on to your lower stomach. 

Your legs fall meekly to the bed again, and Joel’s body sags forward a little before he props himself back up with his hands. The sound of you both panting is all that can be heard as you both come down from your orgasms; you, eyes closed and mouth open. Joel, eyes open and mouth closed, nostrils flaring slightly as he regulates himself. 

It takes a moment before you both get back to yourselves, but when you do, you become increasingly aware of the wet feeling underneath your lower body, which causes you to giggle. “Guess it’s a good thing I didn’t get around to cleaning my sheets today, huh?” 

A snort comes out of Joel, his head shaking slightly as he moves to brush back his hair. He takes in the sight of you, freshly fucked and thouroughly spent, and can’t help but grin. He might be older, but he relishes the fact that he can still please you like this. That you actually want him to do so. Makes him feel like a god among men. 

He sees the tears around your lash line from your last two orgasms, and he leans forward slightly to wipe them away with his thumb, triggering in his mind the conversation you both had before this all started. “Feelin’ alright?” His gaze moves around your body, checking to see if he hurt you in any way. He notes the red marks against the side of your neck, the cum on your lower stomach and the beginnings of many small bruises along the inside of your thigh from where he gripped them to keep them open. 

He’d be more worried about those if he didn’t know how much you loved having him mark you up. 

“Just peachy,” you grinned at him, propping yourself up on your elbows to take in the mess below you. Joel leaned in to meet you, his kiss soft and soothing as his lips slid against yours. After a moment, he pulls away again, awkwardly shuffling to the edge of the bed before standing up. Hiking up his pants, he moves to the bathroom to get a washcloth to start cleaning you up. 

After wiping away his cum and your wetness, he gently helps you off the bed, holding your arm as your legs fumble when your feet hit the ground. His pride grows then, and you smack his arm playfully when you catch sight of his grin. “Sorry,” he mutters, pressing a kiss against the side of your head before moving to gather up the dirty towel from the bed. He tosses it into the hamper before leading you to the bathroom. 

There, he draws you a hot bath, guiding you in the tub and before pulling his clothes off and joining you. It’s a cramped space, the bathtub not technically suitable for two, but you make it work. You lean your head against Joel’s shoulders, sinking into his body as his arms wrap around your middle. You know you should do something with your bedding soon, should make sure you have the guest room set up so the two of you can sleep somewhere remotely comfortable tonight, but for now, you bask in his presence. 

“Thank you for taking care of me, Joel.” You say softly, closing your eyes and letting the hot water ease away any lingering soreness your body has. His arms tighten around you as you trace mindless shapes against his thighs. He tilts his head to the side, kissing your forehead before resting his on top of yours. 

“Anytime, baby.” His breathing evens out with yours, stubble rubbing against your forehead as he speaks. “I’ll always be here to wipe your tears away.” 

taglist *:·ﾟ @hiroikegawa

[farleighlover]

— “i always want you when i’m coming down.”

| farleigh start x fem!reader

w.c.: 2.1k

a/n: hello loves !!! i am SOOSOOSOSOSO sorry for not uploading in so long, i have been very busy this past month ! so sorry once more. i hope this makes up for it, i wrote the ending literally tonight, so i’m so sorry if it’s sloppy :(. i also did not know if phones in 2006 had voicemails so let’s roll with it and not question anything! anyway idk who ordered a yappuccino

— / part two. (part one here.)

you’re in your english period, sitting where you usually sit. next to farleigh.

when farleigh finally enters at the last second and takes his seat next to you, you move. you can feel the confusion and his gaze on you as you find a seat next to a girl. she immediately lets you sit and holds out her hand for you to shake it. “hi! my name is ava. you’re the girl who farleigh cheated on, right?”

of course people mostly know you for your messed up relationship.

you sigh and smile a little before shaking her hand. “yeah, that’s me.” she nods while smiling. “moving away from farleigh when he just enters is definitely mean. good for you!” she’s energetic, shaking your hand with a firm grip and quick shakes. at least you know she’s confident. you chuckle dryly, “haha, i guess so.” she gives one quick smile before looking away when the professor starts class.

all throughout the class, you can feel farleigh’s stare burning into you. you take a quick glance at him. his expression is unreadable like always, although there’s hints of anger and frustration. you smile at yourself because you got a rise out of him, which you have never done before, shockingly. when class finishes, farleigh moves towards your seat but before he reaches it, you move and leave, leaving him there.

its been almost 2 weeks, another party arrives. farleigh has made no attempt on trying to get you back after that “inconvenience” and you haven’t either.

most times you just stay in and don’t go to the parties, but this time, you finally went. it felt a little freeing, going out yourself, not caring if you get drunk and high, all that sort.

you wore a black mini dress, showing your curves yet not too revealing. you haven’t wore this dress in forever. it felt… somewhat refreshing and relaxing.

you went with ruby, a small duo but you were going to get noticed throughout the party from how popular you were from your relationship. and all this attention led to farleigh staring at you.

he was in a table with felix and his group. you could hear their loud chatter and laughs all during the party, but not a familiar laugh, not farleigh’s laugh. you glanced over and saw farleigh staring directly at you before he quickly looked away. but all throughout the party, you could feel his piercing gaze on you.

ruby spied at farleigh for you. “oh yeah. it’s working.” you set your drink down. “what? it is-?” you almost turn around to look at him before ruby snapped her fingers in your face. “don’t look at him! you’re going to communicate to him with your eyes.” you rolled your eyes. “you can’t get enough of this “eye-talking” thing.” she scoffed. “oh whatever. you know i’m right.”

ruby kept her eyes peeled on farleigh, trying to act like a spy or like those cowboys in those bars who always have a shotgun on them. she picks out every “weird” detail about him, like how he spaces out a little or how it looks like he plays with his hair more than usual, although you know that that’s just how farleigh is.

“and with these problems comes solutions, and i use ‘em, when i’m faded i forget, forget what you mean to me. hope you know what you mean to me.”

“he’s so high. jesuus…” she let out a giggle before trying to bite back a smile. ruby has always had a little crush on farleigh. even though it somewhat weirded you out, you knew multiple people had a crush on farleigh because he was popular. it was just something that happens. “it’s like… his eyes. they’re getting redder and redder. somebody get him a mirror.” as she continued laughing and picking insults at him, not as the “what the fuck is wrong with him”, but as “he’s so cute” kind. you couldn’t help but just blur out everything. partying isn’t fun anymore if it just meant spying on your ex and being around sweaty guys, trying to find an one night stand and failing. it was actually quite pitiful.

“oh my gosh.” ruby gasps, widening her eyes. you try to read her expression and sigh, rubbing your temples when you give up. “what now?”

“he’s flirting with another girl. and it’s serious.”

you clock your head to look at what’s happening, before ruby snaps her fingers in your face. you roll your eyes and groan. “who is it?”

“it’s that… ava girl.”

“ava? no fucking way it could be ava.” you thought. ava was… totally farleigh’s type in pure reality. a short, pretty blonde who’s hyper and flirty, and also known as a whore. she’s the type girl to list men as “hoe 1, hoe 2, and hoe 3” on her phone.

you didn’t expect farleigh to move on that fast, but at the same time, you somewhat did. farleigh has a dull type, letting anybody who caught his eye do whatever.

ruby studied, making disgusted faces and commenting also criticizing every move, before you had enough. “jesus christ, ruby. forget this, i’m going home.” ruby almost spits out her drink, sputtering as she tried to keep you sat down in your chair.

“okay, no. let’s think about this, how can we make farleigh jealous?” ruby thought, actually squinting her eyes and stroking her chin. you sigh and before you’re able to call off this an entire thing, she blurts out her idea. “what about to flirt with another guy? i know, i know. i’m so smart.” she flips her hair as you cringe a little.

the idea finally settles in your brain. “what? flirt with another guy?” ruby nods, slightly amused. you were thinking about how badly this could go. farleigh was always a little “protective” if you will, over things. but at the same time, farleigh was all bark and no bite. and you were drunk.

as you thought, ruby dragged you out of your chair. “c’mon! you can flirt with uhh…” her eyes roam around before it landed on felix. “felix! go flirt with him!” she pushed you a little closer to their booth. “what?!” you were a little startled at the thought. actually, horrified at the thought. what if felix totally rejected you in front of everybody, including farleigh? if that happened, you wouldn’t even know what to do! you would just crumple as you get laughed at and dissolve away. you shook your head. “you’re insane, ruby. i’m not doing that.”

she swatted her hand, trying to swatting your concerns away although it didn’t help. “nonsense, you only live once.” before you can do anything, she give you one final shove and now you’re right in front of everyone. felix, farleigh, god when did it get so hot in here?

you immediately glanced at her, seeing ruby cheer you on, giving you a smile and thumbs up. you scoff and roll your eyes before facing back to felix.

“fi,” you call, having a small grin on your face. it was a name you called felix sometimes which also, made farleigh extremely jealous because he wanted to be the only guy you gave a nickname to.

you gave out your hand to felix. “wanna dance?”

felix peers up and glances at farleigh and ava. as he looks, you also look. you see farleigh rolling his eyes and trying to play it off, but you know deep down he’s jealous.

felix decides farleigh has his girl, so he stands up and gives you a soft smile before taking your hand. “of course,” he brings your hand to his lips and gently kisses your chuckles. you smirk before walking and leading him away, giving farleigh one last glimpse. he looks angry and disrespected, but also hurt and powerless. you look at ruby as she gave you a smile and a cheer.

you led felix to the dance floor. not too far from farleigh so that he could watch every single move. you two did what regular college kids did. dance, flirt, make out a little, just whatever felt right in the moment. it made you feel a little bad for farleigh, but every time you thought of him, it immediately made you think about how he could just cheat on you with not a single regret. so you continued with your plan.

eventually the party died down, and felix said his goodbyes and how he had a fun time with a kiss on the forehead before leaving. after a little, you went to ruby.

“ohhhmagosh, you did amazing! i was so stressed out, but you did sososoososo well! did you see his reaction? he was totally…” ruby spoke a mile a minute. you tried to register her words, but only a few sentences stood out. “—he was looking at you so much, ava stood up and left! it was so funny, you should’ve saw the look on his face. and then he went somewhere… i don’t know, went and sat on a couch, just smoking and… he looked like he was waiting for someone? i don’t know, but he was thinking a lot.”

he was waiting for someone? you knew instantly what farleigh was doing. you and farleigh had this tradition that after everybody left, you two sat on this couch and just… talked. you two always did it after a party. no making out, no sex, no nothing. just talking. nobody ever knew you two did this, not even felix or ruby. it was a secret between you two and you two only.

you felt a pang of guilt. this was farleigh’s way of getting you back. he would never go up to you in front of everybody and ask you back, especially after you danced with felix. his pride would never allow that.

you swatted your hand in the air, sweeping it under the rug even though you still felt bad. “ruby, it’s getting late. we should go to sleep.” ruby nodded before yawning. “yeah okay… good job girl! you stood your ground!” she smiled and gave you a high five. you chuckled, the corners of your lips tugging to a smile.

“thank you, ruby. now let’s go back to the dorms, okay?” she nodded yes. she looked like she was going to pass out. as you two took your leave, you glanced at farleigh, both of you meeting eyes. his expression was unreadable like always, but also somewhat pleading. you felt yourself get a little remorseful, but you played it off by scoffing and looking away.

“(pick up your phone), the party’s finished and i want you to know, (i’m all alone), i’m feeling everything before i got up.”

you don’t know how long farleigh sat on that couch. it was on your mind throughout the night. you ignored text messages of him asking and actually begging you to talk to him, until you heard your phone ringing. you flipped it open, seeing a call from farleigh. ruby told you to just let it ring and go to voicemail, which you did. it wasn’t soon before a voicemail from farleigh appeared on your phone. you took in a breath before listening to it.

“jesus christ… hey. you could at least answer my calls or something.” farleigh sighed and groaned quietly. “listen, i’m sorry okay? is that what you wanted to hear? making me watch you get with felix and everything…” he scoffed and paused for a little before continuing, sighing once more. “baby, i’m sorry.” his voice a little more apologetic and genuine. “you know i love you, i just— forget things when i get high. can we— can we just talk? please? like before? i just… i miss you. please call me back when you get this, i love you.”

you felt yourself feel a little sad at farleigh’s words, but at the same time you knew if you went back to him now, he’ll do the same thing all over. you’ve been trying to get farleigh to quit and every time he fails, no matter what. you have had enough of his bullshit.

throughout the night, you kept receiving more calls from farleigh and in each one was him getting more desperate. he sounded like he was on the brink of tears at some point. you lost count how many he sent awhile ago. eventually, he stopped calling when he realized you weren’t going to accept his apology. on his last voicemail, he muttered,

“i always want you when i’m coming down.”

.. taglist: @fuckshitslover @themoonchildwhofell @khxna @flipsconhelado @nataliesfirefly

[erika-xero]

REPOSTOBER, day 22: the Champion of Cyrodiil (2015-2017)

TW! this post has some TES-headcanons which might not be everyone's cup of tea, but please, don't judge a woman by her headcanons lmao

Here he is, my weird lil man. His mom worshipped Mephala and almost sacrifised her own newborn child to the Ebony Blade, but his father managed to steal the baby and hide him in Skyrim. Cero was raised in the orphanage (YES, THAT Orphanage) being bullied by the nord children for being, well, an elf. Many years later, Cero became a gladiator in the Imperial City Arena, and this is pretty much where his story begins.

He starts off as a man, who kill people for money at the start of the game, and being an assassin for the Dark Brotherhood doesn't seem any difference, so he joins in.

Lucien, being the one who brought him into the family, fascinates him. Cero soon develops feelings towards the Speaker, which he describes like some sort of a spiritual bond. He can't fully express what exactly he feels (because he is being in denial), so he keeps his feelings to himself, before it is too late.

This was a breaking point for Cero, who was already traumatized by the Purification, so he cut his ties with Dark Brotherhood and excapes, using the chaos of the Oblivion Crisis. After the series of unfortunate events he becomes the one, who carried the Amulet of Kings and the one, who saved Martin in Kvatch. They soon become friends and Martin is the one who actually tries to make Cero a better person. And then Martin dies too.

Being ceverely depressed and traumatized by losing all the people he loved and who were actually nice to him in a quite short period of time, Cero starts drowning himself in alcohol. And at that very moment, the Dark Brotherhood finally show up and capture the man and take him to Bravil for a trial. He manages to excape. And this is when the Shivering Isles storyline begins.

I wrote a bunch of fics (in russian) about Cero in the Shivering Isles, and in my AU he is literally possessed by Sheogorath who takes over his body and desperately try to fight back, and the main antagonist of the story is Haskill, who does everything so that Cero would lose himself and all his memories forever.

Eventually, he manages to take control of his own body for a few times, and one of them happened during the Skyrim timeline:

His body changed over time, he starts looking less than himself and more like Sheogorath: his hair and eyes gone white, his skin became pale and rosy, but he never actually ended up looking the way Haskill wanted him to look. Somewhere after the Skyrim timeline his former self gets in control of his body again and gets in a fight with Haskill. Cero uses the sword of Jyggalag to snap the Staff of Sheogorath in two parts and finally breaks free. He's memory is wague, his feelings are all messed up and he barely understand what is happening, the only thing that keeps him going is his lust for freedom. And this is the point when the events of my Champion/Nerevarine AU begin. Small bonus for everyone, who read it this far: Cero as Jyggalag.

And Cero with his lover - my Nerevarine Raelin, who was the first person he encountered when he finally broke free from the Shivering Isles, and the person who helped him regain all of his memories (she's also probably the only person in the universe who can handle this firce lil man).

And yes, Cero is actually his father's surname. The champion has a name, but the only person who knew his name was Martin.

[kankuroplease]

can you, make a Hc for Mika please, an uchiha inozuka man, mid-length hair, wild claw eyes, ringtones?! give it to me and I love it! 😭 another crush that doesn't exist lol 🤧

Wolfgang never heard her curse his name the way Ringo did the day the triplets born

Mika was a massive baby, literally the biggest baby Ringo ever had to birth and she swore he was their last kid

Despite the rough birth and agonizing last trimester, the triplets were relatively easy babies

All upsets were usually fixed by put them next to each other, although Wolfgang worried that Mika was too big and active to sleep next to his siblings

He looked about 3 months older and acted that way too given he could hold his head up and roll over before Leonie and Sena

But Ringo insisted Mika wouldn’t hurt his siblings and she was right

Leonie would accidentally yank his hair and cry but he never retaliated (he did cry until they got him free though) and Sena would suck on his cheek sometimes and he just allowed it

As the triplets aged, Mika was clearly the gentler of the bunch

He was also Ringo’s Mama’s boy, making sure to give her a hug everyday before he did anything else

He also went to her for comfort whenever he had a scraped knee or any other pain and she had no problem with it (he baby 🥹)

Even when Sena mocked him for being so needy and whining to mom over “nothing”

A lot of Fredericks friends thought he was the same age as them because he was almost the same height as the older boys

His dad often joked that his big appetite was going to leave the family broke because Mika really could eat a lot

He just didn’t seem to put on any weight

Despite knowing Sena would insult him or possibly harm him if he was in a foul mood, Mika still tried to get Sena to play with him and Leonie because it made him happy when they all got along

Even if he did end up fighting with his triplet, he never told on him and would just claim any injury was an accident

When they grew out of that phase, Mika didn’t hold any grudges against his brother

He was given his father’s last wolf pup as his companion

He was much too happy to finally be able to have one on one conversations with his brother

He wrote to grandmother Sumi a lot and looked forward to hearing from her. She even sent him some hair pins after he asked her if she could send him something she really liked

Grandmother Ebba always brought him around the Inuzuka’s to brag about how cute and big he was

Asahi taught him some self defense techniques

Kuri always brushed his hair out of his face and let him sleep next to her when he had nightmares

He often got stuck posing for Leonie for hours when she got into portraits

He didn’t really mind but the chickens didn’t like having to be held for long periods of time

If he was getting into trouble, it was definitely because he listened to Sena

He was still regarded as the family cry baby and took up the habit of going off to cry as he didn’t want anyone knowing he was crying

It was during one of those times of crying in the woods that he heard someone sobbing MUCH louder than himself

When he went to investigate, he found a girl whaling

He tried to ask if she was lost just shook her head and didn’t say anything else

he sat with her and sung her a song his mom always sang him to cheer him up until she calmed down

When she finally stopped crying, he learned she was an orphan was left with some nuns in town

She was worried her uncle wasn’t coming back, meaning she’d have no more family

And Mika being Mika told her if that happens, he’ll be her family. He’s got a pretty big family and most of his siblings like him, so he was sure he was fit for the role

He introduced her to his siblings and friends so she wouldn’t feel so lonely the next day

And like clockwork, every other day, he’d show up to get her to go play with the others

Mika ignored when the others would tease them about being “in love” because they were always together, but Sofi would it upset and run off

Which made him lecture his other friends about upsetting her so (and made them tease him more about defending his “girlfriend” like some knight)

They’d make different origami designs with Kuri’s help. Sofi always wanted to trade Leonie for one of her red origami pieces

Napping under trees with the other kids after long days of playing

He looked forward to seeing her as she was fun to be around

Once they entered their preteens, the nuns didn’t appreciate them spending too much time together alone and so, he was forced to see less of her

His parents thought this was ridiculous (some of their other kids they might understand, but Mika? The boy was very pure hearted) and gave him task as close to the orphanage as possible so the kids could still see each other occasionally

But even that got completely forbidden after they caught Mika cleaning the blood off her scraped knee with his mouth

That was the last time Mika saw his friend and rumors flew about them sending her away to become a nun too

He so, he still made sure to leave a red paper crane for her on her birthday on the steps of the orphanage just in case she could somehow get it

Years later, when he was about to leave her birthday gift as usual he was caught off guard by the door opening

Sofi greeted him as if no time had passed at all and remarked he looked exactly how she remembered him

Turns out those nuns really did send her off, not to a nunnery like the rumors said, but a college (that might as well had been one)

She was set to be the towns new school teacher

He missed most of what she was saying from his heart racing from his joy of seeing her smile again

He ended up blurting out tmi to try and catch Sofi up on his life quickly (he’s a craftsman, he still helps out with his mom and dad,he got a weird rash a few summers ago but it cleared up, etc.)

Sofi giggled and told him to take a deep breath

hugging for a while before she took her crane, thanked him, and told him they’d have all the time in the world catch up but it was getting late

After that day, the two picked up back where they left off in closeness

He loved getting to spend time with her again

But Sofi definitely made things hard (pun intended)

It didn’t help that she didn’t set any boundaries with him

They weren’t kids anymore, so her cuddling up next to him under the trees and propping her head on his chest felt more intimate

Her still singing the songs he taught her when they were younger made him feel so special

Her soft curves he could just make out when she wore lighter clothes made his mouth water

Her sweet smile, wide hips, and thick thighs guest starred in his dreams and his days difficult

He already knew he was in trouble because his father and older brothers warned him about those Inuzuka like responses when there was an attraction to another

And it’s not like he never had a crush on anyone, he had several

This just felt more intense. irresistible even

And it didn’t help she was naturally good with kids. It made it easy to imagine her as being the mother of his children

Asahi gave him pitying looks when he came across the two. Mika’s pupils blown as Sofi linked arms with him

Kuri was no help as she often went on about how Sofi looked good in this or that

Frederick was generally just shocked that Mika was a virgin. Sure he’s the most timid out of them all and the women around them liked bulkier men, but not even just the tip? Wild

Leonie could tell he was craving Sofi and took to teasing him about needing to stake his claim before the nuns make her into one of them

Elke had a good amount of suitors both Inuzuka and non-Inuzuka chasing after her and she would fish through her love letters to find ones to tell him to act more like (and who not to act like)

Arashi wrote him a letter of telling him where to dig for a ring he’d buried last time he was in town and wished his big brother luck. He always liked Sofi and thought a Claddagh ring would suit her/their relationship well

His father told him to just ask the girl out

His mom kept inviting her to dinner to try and get the ball rolling for them

He tried to ignore the butterflies and bite his tongue about asking the cheesy question of she remembered he offered to make her his family

Instead choosing to let it run it’s course hoping it would die down naturally

Which was a good plan, a great plan even. But he really couldn’t tell her to leave his home in the middle of a bad storm

And it made sense to share a blanket for warmth

It wasn’t a big deal 🤡

Come the second day, they did get a bit carried away with drinking and play fighting because they’re both very ticklish

And Sofi jokingly bit his shoulder to get him back in some way (because he had her pinned by the waist) making him groan and jump off her

She apologized for the bite and he apologized for not stopping sooner but instead she didn’t have to apologize

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Mika joked that maybe they’ve been hanging around each other too much if she’s starting to behave like an Inuzuka

And the look on her face of disappointment made him panick and stumble over his words

He loved having her around and even his family liked having her around.. She could even move into his place if she wanted to and they could be together forever

“Is that a promise or a proposal, Mika”

The most desperate “I love you” slipped out honestly before he could stop himself

Sofi kissed the tip of his nose and said she’d waited so long for him to love her back that it feels surreal hearing it

Mika swore he’d say it as many times as it took for her to believe him

After that stormy confession, the two decided to tell his family that they wanted to get married

And without any objections, they were able to do after Arashi and Sena came back~

It took him a while to stop blushing when he said his wife and Sofia’s students found it funny to pick on him about it

But nothing could ruin his happiness when he saw her

[huntershowl-moving]

Positivity hour! Tell us about your favourite RP partner and your favourite thread! <3

OOH! i love positivity hour! cut for length because WORDY BITCH DISEASE STRIKES AGAIN APPARENTLY!

i don't think i could pin down just one favorite because i'm so incredibly lucky to have so many amazing partners during this sephblog golden age. this is only a few of the ppl who have touched my presence here and live in my brain rent free rn, i wish i could remember all of them but a shortlist will have to do o7

i will shoutout @harerazor and @tewwor for being my OGs, my rp besties, the truest mfs who always stick around through my year-long (sometimes years-long) absences and whenever i come back to discord or the dash, it's like we never left <3 AND for following me into my hyperfixation zones omg. writing windbreaker and jjk muses would be so much more lonely without u two in my life. <3

on the topic of OGs, @spiritcrown, @never-surrender and @bcdomens are the CREW!!!!!!!! THE FIRST PPL I EVER WROTE WITH AND SOME OF MY FAV FOLKS ON THIS HELLSITE you guys are the best. ily. connecting with u guys again felt like coming home.

@favorskill has ascended past the title of rp partner and into the title of friend. rio is one of my favorite people ever, genuinely, he's so cool and so skilled with writing/worldbuilding/watching his DICE MAKING SKILLS GROW has been so amazing too??? i care u so much rio. biting u. even when my brain is hopelessly deep in the fixation hole i am thinking about u and ur muses always <3

also shoutout to my wife @vsagis / @theixth (bc ik uve been on this one today) for just being like??? overall such a lovely person and an amazing writer??? our main dynamic is so deep and expansive we're starting to develop an extended universe for them. i love them i LOVE THEM TO DEATH. alex u match my freak ily i hope i get this job so we can hang out irl <3

speaking of matching my freak, @koseigu and i get along like a house on fire, and i don't think the world is truly ready for us. the more dynamics we develop, the more dangerous we become. everything we do with geto & sephsho ROCKS and i am terrified (excited) to see where seph and sukuna lead us in our newest explorations. we get up to some absolutely nasty (hot) shit with our creatures and it's always an amazing time. hehe

@chaoslulled hol you are so so so special to me. i owe u so many things and im so sorry omg but i literally never stop thinking about our threads & dynamics they're soooo good. i think you're one of the only partners i've actually been able to maintain Main Threads with over a long period of time?? there's something about the way we write together that makes that actually work in my brain which is super unusual JSDKJDHJKD i'm not complaining though, i love it so much. also your ocs are spinning around in my head on a daily basis, especially char because seph, chiaki and geto all like her very much. <3 ALSO. U ARE THE REASON I WRITE GETO. I HATE IT HERE HE WON'T LEAVE ME ALONE HOW COULD U DO THIS TO ME (affectionate). ur satoru is always the one he and seph come back to first because he is the original.

@quillheel and i have been mutuals for a while but didn't start regularly chatting until recently, and geto has been keeping me hostage in our 1x1 server over the last week or so, it's a problem, please help me. please. my crops are dying. also ur my current record breaker on "most fucked up start to an rp dynamic" with sukuna and rusa and im gonna be real i think u might hold that title for a while KJSDHIUSDHSJDHSJKDHJSKDH

@hinodae gray i think i would follow u to the ends of the earth. our little accidental threads have been some of my favorites ever, and i love to PIECES every one of our ship dynamics so far. thank u for being just as much of a slut for ships as i am, i feel like we match each other's energy and vibe so well!! TUMBLR BETTER UN-SHADOWBAN U SOON OR IM GONNA THROW HANDS >:'O

@eraserisms and @rcguish u two are like a package deal in my brain. D.A., the fact that we exist on the same chef wavelength always makes me so happy. i love seph and shota so much, they make me Hurt in all the best ways and i'm lookin forward to getting more into todoroki's voice so we can keep building out shota becoming his dad i mean mentoring him! and rys!!! i know ur absolutely going thru it rn so we haven't been talking as much lately, but i'm still just as feral for our dynamics as ever. seph and shouta's broken friendship. shou and orion's blossoming romance. seph has so many feelings and thoughts about silver that i don't even know how to articulate but that might need its own separate post. blowing u kisses.

lastly but not leastly, @gomannakami we only connected recently but we've already got this absolutely TRAGIC AND BEAUTIFUL set of pairings going on. satoru and chiaki are so stupidly cute and so so sad. seph and suguru are still in the beginning stages but i LOVE writing them sort of dancing around each other, the mutual pining is so spicy and delicious.

AS FOR THREADS!!!!!

ooh. hm. fuck. i think my first thought is always gonna be my longer-running threads with @chaoslulled — the one that stands out the most in my mind rn is the thread where satoru found seph on the brink of collapse after a hellhound kill. it was only the second thread we ever wrote together, and i ACUTELY remember how nervous i was that it was too intense and i was gonna scare hol away with it because that's happened so many times before. SJDHKSJHD

another one that comes to mind is one of my first threads with @tewwor's litho, which started with the simple inbox prompt "can't sleep?" and ended up turning into one of our longest threads to date and spiraling out into the longest fucking slowburn of this blog's career. i loved it. i'll never stop thinking about that apple.

[otherone12]

Oh, Baby... You're Mine

Vampire!Gerard Way × Reader

-> Masterlist

A/N: Hey!! I’m weirdo and vampires are fucking hot, so I has to write a something like this (no judgement, pleaseeee). Hope u enjoy it :)

Summary: The boy in your class is shy and weird, but you've always been nice to him, making him create an obsession. The problem is he's a little weirder than you thought… I mean, he literally drinks blood, and wants YOU and YOUR blood, and he won't take "no" for an answer.

- Word Count: 2.090

- Warnings: She/her pronouns. Blood things, pet names? Kidnap, AFAB SMUT!

> DEAD DOVE!!!! < IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS KIND OF CONTENT, DON'T READ!!!! YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

- Ps: I'll not use y/n…

- Ps2: Sorry for the smut, i'm not used to write this, i'm still learning already. (:

- Ps3: I'm brazilian, so english is not my first language... sorry if i wrote something wrong.

___________________________________________

1st Person POV

Gerard has been my classmate since the beginning of the year. I've never talked properly with him, but everyday I say “hi” to him with a smile. 

His black hair fell perfectly on his unhealthy pale face when he bent over the table to draw. Maybe the way he didn’t talk to anyone, or the way he kept his attention on his drawings during the class, I don’t know, but he's really cute. 

Sometimes my pastime is to find him looking at me, when he notices I stared back, he stops staring and gets a bit blushed. 

This has been happening for some months, and I got a bit tired of this, so I walked towards him at the end of the class, knowing he has free time. I crossed the empty classroom, and stood in front of him. Gerard looked up at me and swallowed hard, looking a bit nervous.

- Hi! - I started with a kind smile - Am I bothering you?

- H-hey… N-no you’re not… - He tucked his hair behind his ear, taking his eyes from his draw. His voice was high-pitched and pleasant to hear. - I wanted to talk to you, but I was afraid of being creepy. 

We talked, and I noticed that we had a lot in common, passion for art; for good music and old movies; so we kept the conversation going as long as we could. He didn't smile even one time, but I thought he liked talking to me as much as I liked talking to him.

In the next few days, Gerard and I had small conversations during the free periods, but nothing more than that. I started to think about him as a friend, ‘cause somehow he made me feel great.

Wasn’t like I thought of him as some kind of partner or something, but it is nice to know that if I need someone to talk to, I can go and speak to him. I haven’t many friends, none actually, I just didn’t feel comfortable with anyone, but he was different, someway.

After class, on an ordinary day, I was walking alone with my headphones on, and the cold wind of fall in my face. Going home, I felt something weird on my way. I didn’t know what was wrong, but the sensation of being followed haunted me for some streets. 

Faster than I could understand the whole situation, I felt a strong hit in my head, I fell on the floor, beating my head on the asphalt. The pain didn't last longer than a few seconds, cause i had already fainted.

Opening my eyes slowly and with difficulty, I couldn't see an inch in front of me because of the dim light. When I tried to rub my eyes with my hands, I realized that they were tied apart. I began to panic, noticing that I was tied to a bed, with my hands on different sides of the headboard and my legs spread with my ankles tied to the other end of the bed.

My first instinct was to scream, and I did. I got no response, but a door was opened, making the room a little brighter because of the light coming from it.

Before the door was closed, in the few seconds that the room wasn't pitch black, I saw that the room had a gothic aesthetic, with old paintings, black veils covering the windows, candles and chandeliers filling the room, and the old structure itself attracting attention.

I heard the sound of footsteps approaching, unable to make out anything. Soon I felt cold hands tracing my face and going down to my neck. I froze, the soft skin of those hands was almost soothing, but I couldn't let it take away my focus. I screamed again, but my mouth was covered pressing hard on my dry lips.

- You don't need to scream, darling. - A familiar voice reached my ear, making me even more nervous - I won't hurt you, hun. At least, not now.

 Slowly, he took his hand away from my mouth and I didn't scream, for fear that the situation might become worse than it already was.

- G-gerard?! 

I said, stuttering and with my voice muddled by fear.

- Aw how cute, you recognize my voice. - His tone didn't sound friendly, but threatening. As he spoke, he caressed my cheek. - There's no need to be afraid, baby.

- W-why are you doing this? - I cried, and he dried my tears with his thumb. - please, let me go

I begged to no avail, only to hear a harsh laugh coming from him. 

- I'm doing this because you’re different from the others. But you already know that, right, princess? - He moved away from me and lit some candles, letting me see the room more clearly - Do you know how much time I spent observing you? The way you talk, the way you smile, the way you walk... The way you look, damn! All pretty, all perfect, but never all mine.

His delicate fingers holding the candles looked like some hypnotic thing, and i couldn’t stop stare at them.  

- I’m not the only one who think about you like this, i’m fucking sure about that. - The disgust in his voice, probably thinking about the guys who asked me to hang out with them, made him seem genuinely concerned about me. - So I couldn't wait any longer to finally make you mine.  

Gerard’s voice became serious, while his disgust turned to seriousness and possessiveness. The sound of the old wood on the floor creaking filled the environment while he walked toward me again. 

- I love you. I always have. And I know you love me too. - A fatherly countenance, together with the heat emanating from the candles, left the environment less morbid, but still gloomy.- If you didn't love me, you wouldn't have spent so much time with me, would you?

- You're crazy! - I screamed, still crying. - I've talked to you very few times. I've never said anything about love!

- You didn't say it, but I felt it. - Now, with the light brighter, I could see the highlight of his white skin contrasting with his black clothes. - You don't know what it's like to spend eternity looking for the right person. 

He walked towards me again with a smile I'd never seen before. The closer he got, the more outward his teeth became. My heart races when I realized that those was FUCKING FANGS! And “eternity” was meant literally.

He sat on the bed next to me and looked me in the eyes. His bright hazel iris bore into mine and sent a chill down my spine.

Panting, my nervousness increased and he noticed. Keeping his smile, letting it be obvious how he was enjoying this situation.

- You're so pretty, do you know? - His hand was on my body again, unbuttoning my blouse. He licked his lips admiring my exposed chest - The most beautiful woman in this world, and all mine.

I opened my mouth to protest, but the stern look he gave me shut me up.

My hands remained tied as he ripped the sleeves of my blouse, removing it completely.

- Please don't... 

Again, I tried to react, but he was already unzipping my pants, ignoring me. The only thing I could do was hope that he would feel sorry for me, and stop doing anything.

- Darling, you're mine now. Don't worry, I'll be nice... - his hands passed over me, who were now covered only by my black lingerie. - but just if you behave like a good girl. Will you do this for me, baby? Can you be a good girl?

While he spoke, his fangs turned apparently, in a perverse smile. He leaned over me and pressed cold kisses down my torso, past my ribs and up closer to my breasts, making me fight the pleasure that was slowly consuming my mind. A moan was about to escape my lips, but I bit it back, muffling any sound that might come out. 

- Looks like someone's enjoying it, huh?  - he hummed, with a haughty tone in his voice - I told you. You love me. 

I tried again to say something in protest, but this time it would be a lie. Not that I loved him, but I was involuntarily enjoying it. He licked his lips in such a hunger, I couldn't help but shiver. 

His hands slid down my panties, pushing them aside. He teased my entrance and made me sink my teeth even deeper into my bottom lip. He looked with satisfaction, laughing darkly, and said In a practically growl.

- Very wet, aren't we? 

I mumbled in response, trying not to make my state of hopeless obvious. Gerard removed his hand from inside me, and positioned himself on top of me, with his knees on either side of my waist. 

- You know I'm about to turn you into the same beast as I am, right? - I barely heard what he was saying, but his voice, at the same time that left me panicking, made me melt into the bed. - I just want to have some fun first. Vampires are cold... but don’t worry, you'll get used to it. 

Gerard undid his black  jeans, springing his boner free. I got shocked by the size, and he let out a grin with his shiny fangs. The situation itself could be romantic, like candles and a pretty guy who apparently loves me… but the kidnap shit messes with all of this.  

He thrusted his dick in me in one move, not even trying to be kind. I was in some kind of state of mind, forgetting that he was abusing me, I started to enjoy the situation. 

- Don’t be shy, honey. - He groaned, going somehow deeper. - I wanna hear all those pretty noises. 

It didn't take too long and I felt my orgasm getting close, and like he said, I moaned really loud, breathless, I felt him come inside of me. 

He kissed me passionately, muffling while I screamed in pleasure against his lips, reaching my apse. The taste of cigarettes mixed with red wine was good, and I kissed him back, needing and wanting more of him. 

I caught myself thinking of how I would feel being with him forever. I’ve never felt like that, loved by someone, cared for by someone, and Gerard gave me all I begged for at last few years. His electric touch, this erotic feeling he brought me, was it that bad? He said “turn you into the same beast as I am”, does it mean he’s gonna bite me? ‘Cause he looks exactly the same way as a vampire does in my mind. 

- Are you ready for this, hun? 

He whispered, biting soft my bottom lip, running his hand to my neck. 

Before I could even respond, his teeth were already buried in my artery. I could feel the heat of my blood being sucked from my veins. The feeling of his tongue running across my neck made the pain milder, even so, the piercing and sharp sensation of pain ran through my body, as did his hands, which touched every inch of my torso. 

As he tightened his grip on my waist, my warm blood began to drip from the corner of his mouth, painting his pale skin a bright red. When he finally let go of my neck, he left kisses at the bite site, moving up towards my jaw and finally reaching my lips again, smashing them hard. The taste of my blood now filled my palate, while our tongues intertwined in movements that seemed to have been rehearsed.

Soon, I found myself out of breath, and feeling tipsy by the smell of wine he emanated. 

The strength in my entire body seemed to have been removed, and I felt really weak. Gerard held my face with one of his hands when he broke the kiss looking for some oxygen, while his other hand was still squeezing my hips.

Quickly, my vision became blurry, and I could only feel his cold lips hit mine again and my body collapsed in that bed, feeling like i was on fire and leaving the scene outside like one of the paintings I saw in his sketchbook once

- G-gerard...

I mothered in a whisper.

- Shh, you'll be fine, baby. I'm gonna take care of you, and we'll be happy ever after. 

He caressed my hair and rocked me. Little by little I lost the last lapses of consciousness, becoming completely off.

___________________________________________

~ So... that's it, guys!

PART 2!

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 ao3

A series of notes passed during private study periods in Hawkins High School Library, circa January—May, 1985.

A sheet of paper hastily ripped from its notebook, folded over with a crease down the middle.

—Harrington, did you just turn down that girl?

—What are you talking about?

—Hey, you can’t blame a guy for being nosy. You were the one deciding to TALK in a SACRED LIBRARY.

—If you heard us, why are you asking?

—Okay, sound doesn’t travel that far.

—Why don’t YOU tell me what happened considering you know everything?

—Wow. Touchy.

—Fuck off.

—Sorry. Thought we were just joking around. Didn’t mean to be a dick.

—It’s fine.

—You sure?

—I wasn’t ‘turning her down.’ She’s on the Yearbook Committee. Asking for photos.

—Too many pin-ups to choose from?

—Baby photos.

—What’s the problem? Did you come out the womb holding hairspray?

—No.

—Table it or ditch it?

—?

—It’s something my uncle says. If he asks me about stuff I don’t wanna talk about, I can either table it for later or ditch it completely. But if something keeps coming up and I keep saying to ditch it, then it automatically becomes a table it for later.

—That’s smart.

—Yup.

—Table it.

—Okay.

—? Why do you keep scoring out stuff?

—Sorry sorry. I can only think of baby photos now.

—Not against them in general. Feel free to talk about yourself, Munson.

—Uh-huh. I could hear the sarcasm in how you wrote that.

—Ha. No, really. I don’t mind.

—Well, lucky for you, talking about myself is my favorite subject.

—Lucky me.

—I thought I’d lost literally all of my baby photos. When I lived with my dad, the house got flooded and all of them were hit. Water damage. I had to get my books spread out on a radiator so the pages would dry, and that kinda worked for some of them. Photos were goners, though.

—That’s awful.

—Hold your horses, cowboy. But then when I moved to my uncle’s—we’re at the trailer park in Forest Hills—I saw he had all these photos stacked on a bookcase, and I thought they were all really old, like from when he was a kid and stuff, and some of them were, but he had whole entire ALBUMS of me. Way more than my dad ever had.

—That’s cool.

—You’re so verbose, Harrington.

—I meant it. It’s just. I was just thinking.

—About?

—That’s not why I—I HAVE baby photos, that’s not the problem.

—Don’t sweat it, dude, you don’t need to tell me.

—It’s just. Rebecca, that’s who was talking to me, she kept going on about how everyone else has already sent in a baby photo or, you know, a photo from when they were a kid, and she was excited about it, it’s a whole new thing they’re doing for this year. They’re gonna do a special layout, old photos next to current ones, you know what I mean?

—Afraid I’ve never been privy to the wondrous goings-on of the Yearbook Committee.

—She said it’ll look weird if I’m the only one not doing it. But it’s—I don’t know. I know I could just pick any damn photo and send it in, it’d get the whole Committee off my back. But I think I’d feel weird at the thought of the whole year getting to see—god, this doesn’t even make sense, like I don’t mind them seeing at a photo of me NOW, but I don’t. I don’t like looking at old photos, I never have. I don’t know why. Guess I just don’t like looking back.

—Fuck what everyone else is doing. They’re YOUR photos. Forget the precious ‘layout.’

—Yeah, that’s sorta what I told her, minus the ‘fuck.’

—If it’ll shut them all up, you could send in one of mine. See who actually notices.

—No way.

—Yeah, I was just being stupid.

—No. Those are YOUR photos. Save them for your own Yearbook. Sounds like your uncle could fill the whole thing with pictures.

—Wouldn’t put it past him.

—Shit, is that the time? The bell’s gonna ring in five minutes. I’ve done NOTHING.

—The horror!

—I’m blaming you.

—Honored to be considered a distraction, Harrington.

-

A scrap of paper, hastily dropped into the pencil case of an unknowing Eddie Munson as the bell rang.

—Thanks.

[whinlatter]

author's note | chapter 8: bones 🦴

thank you for reading chapter eight of Beasts! this week, it's hotting up politically - ginny meets with the minster of magic, enjoys a hot beverage with all of her ex boyfriends, finds out about the clinton impeachment and rides the east coast mainline from edinburgh to london for free with no cancellations or delays a week before christmas. now that really is magic.

got a bumper author's note this week (and some metas to follow), plus a sneak peek of chapter nine (oh the cameos we've got coming! i've got flashback fever). i am also accepting any and all guesses for who the gang will go as for the grimmauld muggle-themed NYE party. we know anthony's going as tony blair, terry boot's deciding between a terry's chocolate orange or the golden boot, but what will the rest of the DA go as? answers on a postcard/in the askbox pls. ok let's discuss this wet and wintery chapter that i wrote at the beach during a heatwave in august, for some reason

✨ spoilers for this chapter below the cut  ✨

writing things and headcanons:

the hogwarts inquiry and graves on the ministry: the chapter opens with graves (himself an ex ministry employee, though we don’t know the circumstances of his exit yet) poking holes in the wizengamot’s approach to justice thus far in the post-war period, suggesting holding individuals accountable - especially someone like thicknesse who was imperiused - misses how the entire wizarding state is implicated in wartime crimes against muggleborns and other persecuted groups. also disillusioned by the way post-war trials are going, kingsley wants to take a different course of action to get to the bottom of what happened at hogwarts during the war. a lot of post-war fics do an amazing job doing post-war justice through criminal trials, and i wanted to do something a bit different for this fic that is explicitly interested in places and institutions and the cultures they foster (hogwarts and the ministry itself, but grimmauld place and, soon, the burrow, home to different kinds of institutions, including families). like a lot of people who grew up in the uk in the early 00s public inquiries - like the leveson inquiry into media culture and phone hacking, or the chilcott inquiry into the iraq war - really left a big impression on me (though i’m sure this is also true in lots of political cultures, not least in the US in things like senate hearings etc). i also really love seeing inquiries and hearings rendered in fiction (in tv, jesse armstrong shows like the thick of it and succession), so knew i wanted to have a go writing these into this fic. there are actually quite a few inquiries of varying scale that happen in the canon series (though none are public), so we know this is a mechanism the ministry has previously used to investigate various breaches of law or accepted norms (in CoS, arthur faces one over the car; over buckbeak in PoA; into percy over crouch; dumbledore asks for one after the dementor attack on harry, which fudge rejects; into bode’s murder at st mungo’s, and into the miscarriage of justice that saw sirius jailed for the potters’ murders). i’m literally just going to quote from taylor_fannon074’s gorgeous comment on this because it’s so well put: 

‘The Wizarding World knows that their children have been forcibly put at the center of a war they didn’t know existed for most of it. Children are the first line of attack when it comes to implementing fascist ideologies. People  areso sensitive about children and it’s a perfect weapon to utilize against anything that you want. It’s why Dumbledore became headmaster when he could’ve been Minister of Magic. It’s why the Malfoys are Voldemort’s greatest allies. If it were just about the Carrows they’d carry all the blame, now the defendants are the Ministry. Kingsley is using this tactic to direct the people’s anger towards the Ministry’s systemic oppression. He’s giving the kids a platform to talk about how a werewolf was the greatest teacher they ever had and several ministry officials tortured them. It calls the ministry’s competency into question, planting the seeds of doubt. I don’t think Kingsley aiming for a full scale revolution but trying to open the curtains and get wizards more active in their community.  He’s going after that statute of secrecy next, I can feel it in my bones!!!!’

kingsley: there are so many really great reads on kingsley as minister after the war, particularly kingsley taking on the ruthless (and manipulative) instincts of a politician, and speculation about that might clash with harry’s worldview and longstanding resentment of ministers carrying about things like public image and making moral compromises to get things done. i don’t disagree with those reads at all, and think they have a ton of basis in canon. what i knew i wanted in beasts, though, was to see if you could write a different kingsley, someone who hasn’t abandoned his principles but instead is trying to centre them. i wanted to play with the idea that all politicians are the same’, asking how kingsley’s contradictions - an avowed progressive, a lifelong ministry insider with more links to the muggle world than most, a resistance fighter turned a minister of magic trusted and admired by the children of the order - would shape his approach to try to capture post-war momentum for rebuilding and make real change, whatever that might look like. i also wanted this dynamic of kingsley and ginny having some familiarity with each other that we don’t see from the canon series that might hint at some wartime interactions we haven’t seen yet. anyway i wrote this scene with kingsley and ginny ages ago and then i read the unfinished but excellent fic about ginny and post-war justice cited below and was crushed to see someone had already written a version of the same scene much better. what a blow! (read that fic)

ginny’s card-making: ginny weasley loves to decorate and she loves christmas. canon could not be clearer about this. if you think she wouldn’t spitefully refuse to wish minerva mcgonagall seasons’ greetings then i’m sorry i think you are wrong with a capital W. graves didn’t get a card but he did get an essay because she’s warming up to him a bit but cards are only for those who aren’t on ginny approval probation 

writing on the wall: actually this is just me apologising to the anon who sent me this ask ages ago and i didn’t reply because i knew i had this scene in the bank and didn’t want to spoil it but yeah basically anon i could not agree with you more!!! i think it’s really a squandered opportunity in canon not to make more of this - in those old ootp planning notes jkr was going to have ginny write on the wall about umbridge in temper, but then removed it, so clearly was thinking of the DA wall daubing as a parallel with CoS but then… gave the line to neville lol. fuming. anyway! had to be done! thank u so much anon and so sorry again!

beasts, beings and patronuses: my favourite part of this chapter to write! (obviously that’s a lie it was the bit where harry and ginny shagged but second favourite for sure). graves goes all enlightenment subjectivity theory again smh, and then suggests what’s happened with the stag antlers might be something to do with a great disturbance to harry’s soul. @saintsenara think this is me steathily building up a tomarry endgame - other theories are circulating, all theories have me salivating

slughorn: hardcore hinny shipper, we have to stan. what’s he up to? also rina girl get back to school you're making ginny look conscientious

hermione: thank you to the extremely patient romione folks in my inbox - the trouble with this plot is that i have to keep all the romione bits off stage for now (and i have written some hermione and ron pov missing moment scenes that i might drop when this plot is fully developed and the mystery has ended) but for now i’m just sorry that so far in the published chapters the hermione plot is all unhealthy coping mechanisms and no answers!

muggle london: did i go rummaging on the freedom of information requests sent to transport for london to find out adult and child fares for central london weekend travel in 1998? yes i did. you never know when the transport pedants are going to flood your mentions !!! ‘are you a child’ ‘sort of’ could be summary of the entire fic really couldn’t it

the exes: i knew i wanted an unlikely character to speak a bit of truth to ginny, someone she wouldn’t be expecting to call her on her shit. the idea of using one of her exes to do it seemed satisfying for a couple of different reasons. i liked the idea of using a character who knows ginny well and who sees through her a bit, but also has nothing to lose throwing out some tough love to her face because they don’t really have any investment in being in her good books anymore. i also liked the idea of not taking ginny’s canonical descriptions of her relationships with her exes for granted, and using those relationships as an example of previous incidences where this character has kidded themselves, or at least come up with a retroactive narrative of something that has happened to them as a coping mechanism that actually masks a bigger, more complicated truth. (i have a longer meta on ginny and her exes i’ll post this week that isn’t expressly beasts-related where i’ll bang on about my read on what these relationships were to her, but for now suffice to say it seemed important in a fic that is at heart a coming of age ginny character study to draw in characters who were likely formative for her in her teenage years in some way). dean seemed a complicated choice, though (more about him below), so… michael corner it was. 

michael corner (or: characterisation when the character has about five whole lines in the whole of canon): 

this is michael corner this whole chapter:

i had a ball trying to figure out how to write michael corner, as the discord girlies can attest. michael is a very minor character in the series, with only a handful of scenes/appearances, and he spends most of them being a little dickhead lmao. the man never stops interrupting people to call them out/correct them. in his first scene in canon in ootp, at the hog’s head, michael sasses hermione on her motivations to set up the DA (‘“You want to pass your DADA O.W.L. too though, I bet?”’ - that earns him a snippy clapback) and then interrupts harry when harry’s being modest to both praise him but also correct him lol (‘“Not with the dragon, you didn’t,” said Michael Corner at once. “That was a seriously cool bit of flying...”’.) in DH, he yells at harry for planning to nip in and nip out of hogwarts when all the DA are living in hiding (‘“You’re going to leave us in this mess?” demanded Michael Corner’), and then gets annoyed at luna for being dumb about the diadem (‘“Yeah, but the lost diadem,” said Michael Corner, rolling his eyes, “is lost, Luna. That’s sort of the point.”’) when it comes to ginny, she calls him a ‘fool’ when he almost gives the game away about the DA in the hall, and when they’re paired up at the DA and she’s killin it hexing him he’s “either very bad or unwilling to jinx her”. given his interest in his academics - and that he’s a ravenclaw - i think we can suspect it’s the latter, a display of chivalric concern that was never going to go down well with gin. they then break up after ginny decides he’s too ‘sulky’ about ravenclaw’s loss at quidditch, after which michael immediately goes off to get with cho (michael and harry bonding over their shared type fic when). but. michael’s also someone ginny (someone who does not suffer fools!) went out with for an entire year, so can’t be a total dickhead, clearly knows right from wrong and has moments of real bravery - joining the DA in the first place, but also enduring torture that neville describes as particularly horrific for trying to rescue a chained up first-year during the DH, which would almost certainly make him deserving of ginny’s respect after the war. being in the DA under the carrows must have been an intense bonding experience for all involved, and actually would have forced ginny and michael back into each other’s lives in a way that forced them to develop some kind of working relationship. all this then added up to the decisions i made to write him as he is in beasts: someone who is grouchy, sassy, contrarian, too competitive, a bit jealous of others’ abilities (the sore loser), and fond of calling people out/correcting people, but also someone who speaks his mind and whose heart is, ultimately, in the right place, a bit of an arse but not a baddie. and i think that makes sense as a character ginny weasley would be attracted to, at least initially, and who she can get behind as someone whose opinion she will listen to, with a pinch of salt.

bonus michael headcanons: other characterisation bits that are more headcanons than anything else: michael, terry and anthony’s band. ginny is canonically a fan of the weird sisters, with a poster up in her room. the weird sisters play at the yule ball.  michael and ginny meet at the yule ball. like literally nine billion other teenage relationships, wouldn’t be fun if michael and ginny first met/got to chatting because they both liked the same band? then that became: well, dean was artistic - what if ginny’s into creatives? wouldn’t it be a laugh if michael, terry and anthony, this three piece gang of boy besties, were in a band? so that became me imagining them all in a promising but bit-too-clever-for-their-own-good indie band, alt-j or vampire weekend of the 90s, very into the smiths. (the album cover ginny recognises in their flat ‘of a white turreted castle, lush woodland by a sunlit lake’ is blur’s country house - partly because the castle in that album art looks a bit like hogwarts, but also because country house was the single that, as british readers might remember, was in a very famous race for number 1 with oasis in the battle of britpop in august 1995, which became about the middle-class southern band (blur) vs the northern working class equivalent (oasis). in my mind the ravenclaw boys would have been team blur and the gryffindor boys are team oasis lol. 90s lore!) the ravenclaw boys being low key into hallucinogenic potions is literally because michael has a throwaway line in hbp where he asks slughorn about felix felicis lol (‘“Have you ever taken it, sir?” asked Michael Corner with great interest.”). so yeah that was enough to get me imagining michael and the boys as low key stoners but also into experimenting with different psychedelic substances and writing bangin’ tunes. they’re boarding school teenage boys, after all!

dean: ah dean 🥺 one day i’ll finish that damn dean fic. the dean we see here is who i imagine dean would be after the war - more lost and alone than literally any of the other main characters, properly unhappy. unlike the golden trio, or the silver trio, dean spends his deeply traumatic war alone, and i think that would fuck him up. he has to go on the run and leave his muggle family behind, a family he’s lied to about the severity of the war (“My parents are Muggles, mate,” said Dean, shrugging. “They don’t know nothing about no deaths at Hogwarts, because I’m not stupid enough to tell them.”’). he must have struggled, as the trio did, with accessing food and finding places of safety, but also had far fewer protections than the trio (no perkins tent, no invisibility cloak, none of hermione’s abilities). he’d also have had to deal with the fact that he’s a young black boy on the run in majority white racist nineties britain, where he would be hyper visible and vulnerable to the suspicions of muggles as well as the wizarding ministry and snatchers (the police/suspicious members of the public are never going to have treated a black teenage boy who seems homeless well). he briefly has the company of ted tonks, surrogate dad figure, dirk cresswell and the goblins, but then watches all but griphook get murdered. then he’s snatched, rescued, and goes to live at shell cottage with his ex’s brother lol. he would have none of the wartime bonding and sense of group solidarity that the wartime DA seem to have built, and while it seems likely he too would join the aurors if invited to punish the people who persecuted him, i think he would feel intensely isolated and lonely as well as challenged by the demands of that job, one he never really seems to crave in canon. got our first few deamus hints here but yeah basically if michael’s going thru one kind of trauma, dean’s going through another, one that he’s never going to open up to the ex who hurt him about. he doesn’t hate ginny - in DH, when he hears about the sword theft, he shows clearly still wants her to be safe and well - but he’s had none of michael’s time to build a post-relationship working friendship with her, and the emotional trust isn’t there anymore. wow bummed myself out writing that out jesus. he could have offered her a cup of tea, though. that’s just basic brit etiquette

baby’s first almost smut: look. what was i supposed to do. these two haven't shared a bed since august. if you think they’re not fucking immediately on sight i simply do not know what to tell you

(gif courtesy of @uncontainedhybrid)

reading list: 

postwar justice (and kingsley as MoM): 

The Weight of the After by PaperyInk  Castles by @pebblysand

the ravenclaw boys: 

these three brilliant fics by chaserzachsmith (crikey)  Notes from the Ravenclaw Bulletin Board by lost_robin

grimmauld place:

haunted house by @bronzeagepizzeria Grimmauld Place: Azkaban by a Different Name by @artemisia-black

beasts and beings:

this meta by @myrskytuuli on harry potter as colonial fantasy 

on the politics of childhood in 20c european politics, especially post-war (not hp fanfiction but historical non-fiction lmao): 

the lost children and kidnapped souls, both by tara zahra 

songs from the playlist for this chapter:

la jeune fille en feu by para one and arthur simonini | i horó 's na hug òro eile by duncan chisholm | blue ridge mountains by fleet foxes | lull by vraell and rosie h sullivan | if we make it through december by phoebe bridgers | please, please, please let me get what i want by the smiths | wading in waist-high water (solstice version) by fleet foxes | feels like a dream by alice boman and perfume genius

and a sneak peek of chapter 9 because now we're at grimmauld and you know what that means... 🐕‍🦺🐾

‘Wow. What a shithole.’ ‘Fred!’ ‘Don’t lie, Mum, you think it’s a shithole, too, I can see it on your face.’  ‘Well, yes, but don’t be rude, this is someone’s house.' ‘Be as rude as you like,’ says a bored voice. They all jump, turn to see a man standing at the foot of the stairs: tall, gaunt, long hair like curtains framing a ten-thousand galleon face. ‘I assure you,’ says Sirius Black, ‘this house is an insult to shitholes everywhere.’

[copperbadge]

Hi, I have started a new office job! It's good, I like the people I work with and the work itself but it's sooo different from what I'm used to? I don't always feel I have enough to do, which is partly b/c of the time of year and cause I'm still new, only 30 days, but is this normal-ish? I am trying to be self directed and going thru my responsibilities but somedays, there's just not a lot? Have you ever found that in any of your jobs?

Yeah, a lot of office jobs are like this -- mine have almost all had a great deal of empty space in them. It's not universal for sure, but it's not at all unusual. The only time I've had an office job where I really didn't have any time free during the average week was right at the end of my last job when we were heavily downstaffed and I was doing about three peoples' worth of jobs. Even then, my schedule had some flex to it.

Especially as a newbie you're going to have a lot of downtime because people are giving you time to settle in, or they're trying to work out what they can assign to you, or they're waiting until you're fully trained to start assigning you more responsibility. And you may have less work at this time of year because a lot of people are out of office or for other reasons (this is actually a busy time for me and my crew, because we get a lot of end-of-year donations, but a ton of nonprofit work is backwards to the rhythms of normal for-profit office work).

I recommend never, ever telling anyone at work that you are not busy, however. For one, most people in any given office know that we aren't working at 100% for 100% of the time, because if we were we'd all be exhausted. Two, it means you'll be given more work. :D Which, okay, some of that is "Why work when you don't have to" but some of it is also that it is GOOD to have slack built into your schedule. It means you can ramp up when needed, and also that you get periods of brain rest, and also that you have time to work on independent projects should you wish, whether those are for work or, say, fanfic. I actually at this point tend to lower expectations by waiting to submit work -- I'll finish a project a day early and submit it the day it's due regardless.

In one job, I had to process documents being converted from PDF to Word, then pass them on to our proofer; he could only proof about four documents a day, but I could process about 20. So on Monday I'd process all 20 documents, and send him four of them -- and the rest of the week I'd send him four a day, and write fanfic for hours on end. Occasionally they gave me other jobs to do, but at that job I was essentially paid full time to work one day a week and show up to do nothing the other four.

The average office worker only works four hours a day. In some jobs I've literally booked out those four hours and fucked around the rest of the time. When I needed to, I'd break into Fuck Around Time in order to do more work, but otherwise -- they're paying me for results, not for sweat. As a front-desk receptionist it was baked in, actually; they said to me "There's going to be long periods of time where you are doing nothing. Your job at those times is to entertain yourself in ways that don't make it look like you're goofing off if someone important walks in." I wrote a lot of fanfic and novels, read a lot of books, did a shitload of origami. I loved that job; if it paid better I probably never would have left it.

Eventually, too, you will learn the rhythms of your job and workplace, and figure out when you're most likely to have empty time, so that you can build around it. For instance, on Fridays I get a data document that I have to evaluate and present to my colleagues the following Wednesday. Friday and Monday are therefore my busy days; Tuesday and Wednesday are for work I might have put off during the busy days. Thursday is generally just an open day; I can do long-term work projects, or I can spend the whole day dicking around. If a rush job comes in, I can push work into Thursday to get the rush job done, regardless of when it arrives.

In any case, you have a couple of options for continuing to look busy even when you aren't. If you can read on a computer screen, queue up some books or fanfic (be careful what you access on company internet, of course; I have more free range than most and am not monitored because my job is researched-based and I have to go to some weird shit places). Read newspapers you might have access to, or work on your own writing/creative endeavors on cloud-based apps. A couple of times a year I'd dedicate the empty space in a week to going through old files and organizing them, or cleaning out my email inboxes.

You can also, if you desire, work on independent projects for your actual employer. In my spare time I've built several tools to make my life easier, some of which I've shown to my bosses to impress them. Some just make my work go faster and my bosses don't know that, and don't have to. Again: they are paying for results, not for me to sit there like a booby doing work I don't have to do. If there are ways to streamline processes, you can use the time to think about implementing them (although ask other people they may impact, first). The other day I was giving a mailing list one last scroll-through before sending it to my boss, and idly realized there was a fantastic opportunity to do a little data visualization, so I whipped that up and added it to the email I was sending, like "Hey I also noticed this, see what you think."

For a while, in my last job, I had enough lee time in my schedule that most days I could work my second job as a transcriptionist while at my primary job. That can get perilous and I don't recommend it, but it can be done...

Anyway, be at ease, this is supposed to be the case and it's a great bonus when it actually does happen :D Do your work competently and efficiently and don't worry too much about the empty spots, just take breaks and keep yourself entertained.

[dinoplantsghost]

pairing: Tom Riddle x fem! original character

warning(s): tom is a warning in itself, 1940s: time-accurate prejudice, one or two racist comment(s) and mention of n@z!s, teenage behavior: drama and language, mention of Walpurgisnacht and Christianity, there's probably more but idk

word count: ~4515

Disclaimer: I have a huge google doc that holds all of my drafts and I'm quite literally just copypasting everything, so if there are any typos/errors, no there isn't!! :)

-- okay now this one kind of eats, I just skimmed through it and I lowkey forgot I wrote this

Chapter List

The Knights of Walpurgis [7]

13:15 - Wednesday 18th

Tracy had bumped into Saoirse during their shared free period before lunch, his lips not in their usual smile when he dragged her off campus to a bench near the Black Lake. 

He was concerned about his friends—or ‘their’ friends, as he had phrased it. For once, Saoirse understood what it was like to “be in the know” and be part of a unit of people. 

“I tried talking to Ava,” he sighed. “But she gets all emotional whenever I bring it up; I just want to understand what happened, but I guess I get why she doesn’t want to tell me. Maybe it was bad or something.” 

“Griffin was telling me something about it after the first Quidditch match, although very vaguely. He was mostly talking to himself, it seemed like.” 

“Really? I’m surprised, considering how much he didn’t like you when I first introduced you to each other.” Tracy leaned back, his brows furrowed as a hand reached up to pinch at his delicate skin. “What did he say?” 

Saoirse shrugged. “In all honesty, I wasn’t paying attention; I’m not used to comforting people and he was too busy crying to really say anything interesting or important.”

Despite her insistence that she didn’t remember much, Saoirse went into detail about how Eugene had wept over Ava-Lynn and how she “broke his heart.” She always took the opportunity to talk her mouth off. 

Tracy, usually thirsty for drama and all of its wondrous theatrical moments, paused. “Eugene and Ava? Together? I don’t believe it,” he huffed. “Ava’s a great person with strong morals. And I mean, Eugene is my friend and all, but…” 

Saoirse shrugged once more. He clearly knew them better than her and yet he was just as confused.

The boy shook his head, his shaggy hair hitting his cheeks as he rubbed his eyelids. “Thanks for telling me. I don’t think Ava would have told me that even if I threatened her; I would be embarrassed too. But also, there’s something else I needed to talk to you about.”  Tracy pulled his legs up, sitting tailor-fashioned on the bench, smearing mud and grass on his trousers. “You know we share Defense classes, right,” he asked. “Because I’ve seen you hanging out with those guys lately—the ones from Slytherin. If you were smarter, you’d stop talking to them.” 

Saoirse frowned. “That’s exactly what Patrick said about you and Griffin the other day. He said any friend of Griffin’s isn’t good.” 

“Well, that nerd is a hypocrite,” he scoffed. “Every one of his friends, including him, is a no good, snotty, rich boy raised on outdated ideals. They’re no better than the Nazis we hear about from the Muggle war.” 

Well, he wasn’t wrong about that, she thought. 

“But Patrick is really nice,” she argued. “He told me that he hates the Sacred Twenty-Eight; he wants nothing more than to be on his own when he finishes school.” 

“He’s obviously lying. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, as they say.” 

“What do you mean? What apple?” 

“Nevermind,” he groaned. Tracy stood from the bench, doing nothing to wipe off the grim from his uniform. “Forget what I said; it’s an idiom you don’t get yet. But either way, don’t come running to me when that group decides to throw you to the side, Saoirse.” 

It was not until lunchtime did Tracy try to talk to Saoirse again. After their conversation at the bench, the boy left in frustration since she did not understand why he disliked Patick when he had Eugene Griffin as a friend. In her eyes, he had no right telling her who to be around when that Hufflepuff student was clearly just as bad. 

When lunch rolled around, she didn’t entertain his attempts at conversation because she was too busy scratching at arithmancy work that was due within the next hour or so. Saoirse wasn’t horrible at mathematics, per se; it’s the way symbols and numbers danced around on the tree pulp that annoyed her. Mahoutokoro had a different way of calculating things, and Arithmancy was completely separate from what she was formally taught from a young age. Saoirse still had a hard time handling a quill, and her handwriting needed to be small so each equation could fit nicely on the same page. Her eyes also strained if she looked at her work for too long, which is one of many reasons she was currently sitting at the Ravenclaw lunch table alone, her back curled over as she scribbled away slowly. With each snag her quill hit on the parchment and each ink bubble that burst and melted into her skin, she felt closer to committing another murder. Maybe it would be better if it was her that was dying this time around. 

Luckily, she was able to finish the assignment in time. Arithmancy class always went by faster than her brain processing every little thing she wrote. By the time she was out of the classroom and following her peers down the hall like a school of fish, her thumb had difficulty flexing and stretching out her fingers did not get rid of the tense feeling in her hand. 

As she walked into Merrythought’s classroom, Saoirse pinched the bridge of her nose to numb the throbbing pain in her head as she plopped down next to Patrick, who fortunately recovered just fine after the start of the month. 

“Are you alright,” he asked. “You’re pinching your nose again.” 

He dug around in his satchel, pulling out a small glass container with clumpy circles of brown. The boy gave one to Saoirse, a thin layer of sugar melting from the warmth of her palm. “My family gets these Godiva treats every time we visit Belgium,” he explained. “We’re not supposed to do this at school, but I infuse the share I get with soothing elixirs I make in my spare time. I have this thing called astigmatism, so I get headaches and migraines often.” 

She took a small bite, her front teeth sore from the sweet’s brittleness. “It’s very sweet,” she muttered. “Almost too sweet…”

Patrick blushed, embarrassed that Saoirse didn’t like it. “Oh, well, you don’t have to eat it all! I’m sorry you don’t like it!”

She waved a hand. “No, I will,” she replied. “I’m just not used to it. I like it.” 

As the girl took another bite, she was unaware of the smear of crumbs on the corner of her mouth. Without another thought, Patrick cupped her cheek, flicking flecks of almond and caramelized sugar. 

Eloise, along with the other Knights, made a noise of discomfort. “Get a room,” he whined. “No one wants to see that, Patrick.” 

The Austrian boy froze, pulling his touch away from Saoirse’s cheek dusted in pink and red.  “Sorry…”

───────────

The Transfiguration Professor was odd. In her mind, he resembled the many (old as fuck) men she saw in Japan, though he was not nearly as old. He always wore lavender robes, and insisted on speaking in a way that drove her to insanity. Albus Dumbledore, the Head of the Gryffindor House, always spoke softly. He spoke so delicately, in fact, that his breath would slip through the little gap in his front teeth, causing his speech to have a whistle throughout. It sounded like a fork dragging against a porcelain plate, a sound she only recently discovered her first night in the Great Hall. 

When Dumbledore asked Saoirse to speak to him during her free time after Defense Against the Dark Arts, she wanted to bang her head against a desk. She had heard stories about him from Merrythought. He had a male lover that he was enemies with, apparently. 

“I hope Hogwarts has been to your liking,” the old man said. “I’m sure your former school was very enchanting. I’ve always wanted to visit Mahoutokoro, you see.” 

“Hogwarts has been very kind to me, sir, much better than Mahoutokoro.” 

“Wonderful! It’s always good to see the positive in every change and shift in life, after all. Now, how are you doing socially? Any friends? Like that Mayfield boy, Tracy.” 

“I’m not that close to Mayfield. I would consider him more of an acquaintance; I believe that is the word.”

Dumbledore hummed, his eyes twinkling as he fiddled with his beard. “I see…Are you having trouble finding eagles to group with, dear?”

Saoirse shook her head. “No, sir, I just find myself around Patrick Nott and his group more often.” 

The man sighed. He plucked his eyewear from his wobbling nose, wiping the grime off with a smooth cloth. “Saoirse, dear, the reason I have pulled you aside is because I am worried,” he frowned. “And while you are an eagle rather than a lion, it is my duty as an adult and a teacher to make sure every student is doing well. Now, I say this out of the concern from your friend—no, your acquaintance, as you referred to him. Mister Mayfield only wants the best for you, as do I.” 

Saoirse’s brows furrowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Mister Mayfield has told me of the group you surround yourself with, Saoirse, and with my own eyes I can say with a full heart that these boys will give you nothing but trouble.” 

He leaned against his desk, clasping his hands as he stared at the Japanese girl with a sorrowful expression. “I fear Saoirse, amongst that group of Slytherins, is a boy who is too dark, too far into his ambitions to be deemed safe. He is dangerous. Any involvement with him will throw you off a path of light and good.” 

The girl craned her neck. She was sure her face was stuck with her lip pulling at the corner, her eyes darting around to avoid the old man’s gaze. “Professor,” she laughed. “I can assure you that none of them are ‘dangerous.’ They’re teenage boys that are driven by hormones, food, and sports.” 

“No,” Dumbledore argued. “You’re not understanding, Saoirse. Amongst those boys is a tortured soul, one that cannot be healed or fixed by any means. Mister Mayfield came to me in hopes that you would realize the dangers these Slytherins put you in.” 

Saoirse crossed her arms, scoffing. Mayfield was hardly any character to throw his opinion into her life. “With all due respect sir, I barely know Mayfield and he barely knows those boys. Patrick and his friends are nothing but dumb airheads, especially that Riddle kid; he drives me insane.” 

“In what way?”

“That boy needs to be humbled,” she sighed. “He’s brash. He thinks he has this authority over everyone. He’s really not all that.” 

“Would you care to elaborate,” Dumbledore pushed. “While Tom is destined for greatness, that is for sure, the boy is very troubled.” 

The girl was silent, her jaw tensing in thought. “I’m sorry, sir,” she drawled. “I hardly think it’s my place to speak of Riddle’s issues, especially when I couldn’t care any less.” Saoirse stood from her chair, letting the legs scratch against the wooden floor of the man’s office. “Now if you’d excuse me, I’d like to enjoy my free time before History of Magic.” 

Ignoring Dumbledore’s demanding gaze, Saoirse’s legs took a stride out of his office and away from his classroom. She glided through each hallway, twisting and turning each corner as her mind honed in on the plans forming in her head. 

She had every reason to stick by those boys in green, to keep an eye on that sick fuck who took his “friends” for granted. It wasn’t hard to see how the others were strangled around his finger. Considering Rosier’s speech the night she was informed of their little club, it only confirmed the rumors she had heard, most of them from Mayfield. And while she never had friends before, it wasn’t rocket science to have basic human decency. 

But she was curious, so fucking curious as to why Riddle seemed to have put it upon himself to carry the burdens of an entire aristocratic group of blue bloods. According to Patrick, Riddle was never a name within the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He was a nobody, to put it simply. Yet somehow, by some miracle, he was at the center of some of Europe’s powerful heirs of their generation. 

There was darkness in the boy; that was something she could agree on with Dumbledore. During her spar in Merrythought’s classroom, Riddle was cold and calculated, but he was easily aggravated—”trigger happy” is what Patrick called it. Riddle gets jealous whenever the spotlight trails off him, causing a controlled temper tantrum of sorts in order to regain his title as the model student. 

It didn’t take long for her feet to drag all the way to the Slytherin dungeons. The password slipped past her lips, and she ignored the harsh stares from those in green as she looked for the familiar door with the number ‘13’ on it. 

The door swung open, Miles Lestrange leaning against the frame with crossed arms. “If you’re looking for your boyfriend, he isn’t here,” he smirked. “Patrick’s in the library, as usual.” 

“I’m not looking for Patrick, I’m looking for Riddle. What’s his door number?” 

Lestrange curled a brow in interest, pushing himself off the door frame as he mused, “Oh? You’re already bored of Florian? How rude of you, Saoirse.” 

“Florian?” 

“Yeah, that’s Patrick’s middle name.” He ran a hand through his curls. “Anyways, why do you need Tom?” 

“I just need to talk to him,” she frowned. 

Miles sighed, “His door number is seven; he rooms with ‘Brax, Louis, and Cass’.” 

With a small thanks, Saoirse retraced her steps, eyes dancing to the bold, black number on teak wood. The girl did not have many hopes of speaking to the boy today, but when she rapped her knuckles on the door, it was quick to snap open and make her jump out of her skin. 

It was odd to see Riddle in simpler clothing. He didn’t have his robe on, nor his gray sweater vest. Instead, he only wore the Oxford shirt all students were required to wear, along with his green and silver tie that hung loose under his collar. He did not speak, expecting Saoirse to have words roll off her tongue with ease, only to realize her eyebrows were crumpled up as she gathered her English. 

“I don’t have all day, you know,” he uttered, a breath of annoyance flushing past his nostrils. “Midterms are coming up; you should be studying instead of wandering off.” 

When the girl stayed silent, he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Before he could slam the door, however, she spoke: 

“Let me join that stupid club of yours, Riddle.” 

Tom froze, the Adam’s apple in his neck bobbing as he turned on the ball of his foot. “Whatever Nott told you is none of your business.” 

“It became my business when you beat up the poor boy for rightfully spending his free time with whomever he chooses. Besides, he was following your dumb orders regardless.” 

Tom yanked Saoirse by her collar, throwing her inside the vacant dorm. The door finally slammed shut, the flame from the fireplace flickering against his high cheekbones and set jaw. 

“What did those idiots tell you,” he demanded through clenched teeth. It didn’t take long for the distance between the teens to close, Tom’s long legs taking strides to push Saoirse against the beam of Cassius’ four-poster bed. 

“They told me everything.”

“Really, everything?” 

“Everything they wanted to tell me before Orion demanded that I get some sleep.”

Saoirse hated how tall the boy was. People were rarely his height in Mahoutokoro, but it seemed like European genetics had these boys shooting for the stars. Through her lashes and frames, she could see how flared his nose was, how his lip was in permanent disgust at the thought of her being in his presence. 

Hesitant, Saoirse forced her tongue away from her inner cheek as she spoke, “Dumbledore spoke to me a while back…He seemed weirdly obsessed with you. I just wanted to know why.” 

Apparently, the mere mention of the man was enough to set the boy off. His eyes flashed with anger, perhaps even fear, but it was difficult to tell when Tom distanced himself from the girl to pace around the middle of the room. 

“What,” she smirked. “Do you have a secret affair with him or something? Trust me, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen such a—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he hissed. He turned to face her, a finger pointed in her direction as he pressed, “What did he say to you?” 

“I may or may not have spoken of you in a negative light,” she shrugged. “Dumbledore was trying to ask what I knew of you, which isn’t much.” 

Saoirse sighed, taking off her frames to rub her tired eyes. She sat down on Mulciber’s bed, letting her legs hang from the side as she laid down on his unmade sheets. “Whatever you’re trying to do with the Chamber of Secrets, It’s obvious that he knows.” She ignored the noise that came from his throat. “Senile men are a lot smarter than people would like to think; more deceitful as well.” 

She was met with silence, with the occasional crackling from the logs under the fire. 

“I don’t see the point in you being a Knight,” Tom said. “You’re only doing this for Nott.” 

“So,” she questioned. “You would be getting more out of your posse if I joined, regardless of my reasons. You would make a pretty shitty cult leader if you didn’t take advantage of your members, you know.” 

“And what makes you think the Knights of Walpurgis isn’t already a cult?”

The ashes under the flame fluttered, logs crumbling further down in prolonged silence. 

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

TR~S 

Saoirse did not know what to expect when she followed three boys in the middle of the night. After Astronomy class, Tom guided her, along with Patrick and Mulciber, up the castle. She never really got used to the moving stairs, but by the time they made it to the seventh floor, Saoirse’s head was already spinning and her hands clung onto Nott’s arm. 

The four of them moved quickly, footsteps light against the limestone flooring. Corner after corner, corridor after corridor, the teens finally stopped in the middle of a fork. Tom, the self-appointed line leader, walked up to the towering wall in front of them before pacing back and forth. Soon, the floor received residual shocks as the wall shook and split in the middle to open up. 

Patrick nudged Saoirse along, shutting her slack jaw with a forefinger. “You’re going to catch a fly in your mouth, Schatzi.” 

Seeing the girl in awe of one of the many hidden treasures Hogwarts had to offer, Cassius slapped a friendly hand to her back. “You’ll get used to it,” he chuckled. “I remember when we first found the Come-and-Go Room; our buddy Patrick here had the same reaction. You two are cute together, by the way.”

“Don’t say that,” hissed Patrick, his glasses fogged and his ears red. “Saoirse, Cassius doesn’t mean that at all, he’s just joking!”

The foreigner only smiled, amused by how Patrick’s eyebrows always curled whenever he was nervous. She followed the boys inside, craning her neck to inspect the castle’s magical and ever-changing architecture once more. Saoire always loved buildings, especially those built in the period of Gothic architecture. She loved how stained windows had become popular then, and she especially loved the Biblical iconography of the Christian faith, how it drowned cathedrals and other buildings in symbolism. 

Saoirse was pulled out of her trance by Patrick again, leading her to an ellipse-shaped table. He pulled out a chair for her before taking a seat next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she witnessed Mulciber attempting to do the same for Rosier, only for his burly hands to be swatted away by his friend. 

“Now that everyone is here,” Tom drawled. “Patrick, if you could start the meeting.”

The boy in question nodded, his eyes fierce behind his perched frames. He stood, his chair scraping against the tile before he spoke, “The date is Thursday, November 19th, 1942. The time is 1:29 in the morning. All members are present and accounted for, along with one guest.” He glanced down at Saoirse, who had her eyes set on his figure the entire time. “The Knights of Walpurgis’ second meeting of the fall term is now in session.” 

Tom thanked Patrick with a wave of his hand, allowing the boy to sit down before speaking. He stayed standing, opting to pace at the head of the table.  “As you can see, men, we have a willing candidate to become our next knight.” 

With each word he spoke, Tom held onto the boys’ attention; moths to a raging flame. Their backs were straight, hands in their lap as they kept their heads high and their loyalty even higher. Saoirse had never seen Avery so serious before. 

“It has also come to my attention,” Tom mused. “That Dumbledore is attempting to thwart our plans once more. But do not worry; we have gotten past his insistence before.” He gestured a hand to Saoirse, signaling her to rise from her seat. “The girl has been in our presence for long enough, it seems. Saoirse, do you understand what the Knights of Walpurgis stand for?” 

She could only shrug. “I have some semblance of a mission, I guess.” 

“The origins of our name, the Knight of Walpurgis, comes from the holiday of Walpurgisnacht,” Patrick explained. “Walpurga was a saint long ago, known for battling diseases and witchcraft. She converted many people to Christianity and was sought after for protection against our practices. The holiday lasts from April 30th to May 1st, commemorating her canonization as a saint.

“We reclaimed the meaning of Walpurgisnacht. Just as she protected those from witchcraft and magic, we want to protect those from Muggles and their violent attempts at eliminating our populations. We, the Knights of Walpurgis, want to eliminate non magic folk, just as Muggle have done to us in the past in a similar fashion.” 

It made sense, Saoirse thought. However, surely not every Muggle had the same opinions. She turned to Tom, questions pooling in her mind. “So what does this have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?”

“As I’m sure the boys have told you,” he responded. “The Chamber is said to hold the very monster Salazar Slytherin planned to use himself. Our main problem is that the Chamber cannot be located.” 

“And you’ve checked everywhere?” 

“Yes, we’ve checked the library, asked people in the Sacred Twenty-Eight; there is nothing.” 

“Hogwarts: A History has a section on Salazar Slytherin, albeit small. It said that he was a Parselmouth and apparently, only those from his direct bloodline can inherit this ability. Maybe that’s why it can’t be found.” 

It was like a lightbulb had gone off—though, lightbulbs were made by Muggles, and electricity barely made sense to the Pureblood heirs. Eloise downed the drink in front of him—presumably alcohol— slamming his glass down to the table in fervor. 

“I knew Asians were smart,” he laughed. “But not this smart! It makes so much sense!” Eloise turned to Tom, arms outstretched in excitement. “Tom—sorry, my Lord, you’re a direct descendant of Salazar!” 

Saoirse ignored the weird title. Maybe they had a similar hierarchy system here, like Japan. 

“Yes, Avery, that’s an amazing observation.” Tom smiled ugly, stopping any laughter from bubbling in Avery’s throat. “Obviously I’ve thought of that, you idiot.”

It made sense now. That’s why Riddle was accepted into the group so easily. But still, as Saoirse picked at the chipped and frayed wood of the table, her mind could not wrap around the fact that the boy’s surname held no importance, no connection to any Pureblood family. Even with that information, it also wasn’t plausible for his status to be anything but Pureblood; his lineage made sure of that.

“I’m sure we’ll figure it out soon enough,” smiled Miles. “After all, we have until the end of fall term.” 

“Which families were closest to Slytherin’s descendants,” Saoirse asked. “Surely there has to be something in an office or study.” 

“We’ve tried that,” Abraxas frowned. “We even asked MIles’ mum, who practically knows everyone in Europe. The next family that would be closest would be mine, but I’ve been looking since last summer; my father has nothing.” 

Tom spoke, his words carrying hopeful encouragement to his lackeys. “That is why I have decided to bring you tonight, Saoirse. With your foreign knowledge, we could broaden our horizons.” 

The girl could only shift in her seat to cross her arms and legs. “You really think Salazar Slytherin brought a creature from Japan all the way to the middle of nowhere in Scotland?” The look in his eyes gave everything away to her; he knew it was a stretch, too. “Look,” she sighed. “Japan really only has spirits and demons. There’s nothing I can think of that would have that much power. Sure, there are yōkai that look like snakes, which seems like something Slytherin would be particular about, but again, like I said; nothing from Japan could have the type of power to kill entire populations.” 

“Well, no matter,” he sighed. “It is just as Miles said: we have until the end of the fall term.” Tom waved an arm, prompting the girl to stand up and make her way to his side. “I’m sure you’re tired, Saoirse. It’s not usual to be up this late in the night. Before you leave, though, it is customary for all Knights to be…inducted, if you will. If I could have your left arm, please.”

───────────

“Which one of you thought it was good for the girl to know of our plans?” Tom sighed for the umpteenth time, his stomach churning with disappointment as none of the boys sitting before him could get a word out in full confidence. 

“It was Eloise,” Abraxas tensed. “He accidentally told Saoirse about the Chamber, but Orion eventually convinced her to join for Patrick’s sake.” 

Surprisingly, Tom did not blow up towards Avery’s mistake. “Orion, good job,” he mused. “This is very pleasant to hear. I’m glad to know that at least one of you knows how to seize an opportunity, the behavior of a true Slytherin.” 

It was very rare for Tom to throw compliments. If he praised you, then he was just a smidge happy; if he was happy, then there was a lesser chance of him being mad. No one liked when he was mad. If you could gain Tom’s acknowledgement, you were given the highest doses of immunity one could obtain. 

In the eyes of his followers, gaining merciful immunity was the ultimate goal, even if it meant sabotaging those closest to you.

Credit(s): Dividing banner (^^^) by Chen Lu (1436 - 1449) - "Plum Blossoms in Moonlight" scroll painting; sourced through Pinterest

[formulatrash]

Hi Hazel! You have no idea how much I hate being a burden, but I’ve finally found a way to ask this question anonymously to someone in the same field who can understand me well.

How can I tell if I’m not a good writer? How can I tell if this feeling is real and I need to move on because writing isn’t my thing, or if I’m just experiencing writer’s block?

I’ve been writing about motorsport for a long time, and I’m still not sure if I can call myself a writer. I’ve worked for many places, some of which treated me as if I were the best, while others treated me as if I were a ghost - as if I weren’t even there.

English is not my first language, so sometimes I use a paraphraser to help me use punchier words. I’m ashamed to say this. I’m totally against AI. I’ve never used a chatbot before and have no idea how to use one. I’m just not confident in my word choice… I’m not even confident in myself. I always feel like a fraud and that I don’t deserve to work at a good place because I use that thing. I mean, how can I call myself a writer when I can’t even write a sentence on my own? And to make things worse, I’m a very slow writer. The only good thing is that when I write, I truly write from the bottom of my heart.

I’m at my lowest point right now. I just want someone to throw it in my face and tell me I’m not good at this because it’s really exhausting to “think” otherwise.

Hello anon,

I’m really sorry that you’re feeling this way. I think, if it’s any comfort, that there is no one who writes who doesn’t feel this way on occasion - except for, probably, genuinely bad writers. Please feel free to get in touch with me in private if you want to talk more; my email’s southwellhazel at gmail dot com and obviously, I’m not going to expose you.

Firstly: writer’s block is brutal. Even news writing can feel like dragging yourself through mud to try and do it when you’re in that funk. Again, I think that every writer, especially the good ones, goes through long periods of the fog descending and nothing seeming to click. I’ve looked back at things I wrote during writer’s block periods and realised they had worth, in fact are some of my better pieces, even though I couldn’t stand to look at or think about them at the time. 

(this one about F1 fan safety was during a terrible, terrible period of it; I felt editorially sidelined, my pieces kept getting rewritten heavily and I was incredibly low. I got really angry and had to have a fight to publish it, then felt like I’d wasted a battle because it was such a weak piece - looking back, it’s in fact quite good)

If you’re writing about anything, you’re a writer. There’s lots of people who will try and gatekeep that and my god, I hate every single fucker who contributes to threads and volumes and snooty little pieces about the magical art of writing. It’s literally just putting one word in front of the other and hoping someone else understands it. Which doesn’t make it easy but a lot of people really up the sense of the difficulty and what it means to have achieved some kind of hallowed writer’s status when honestly, it’s just a word for someone who puts other words together. 

I was talking to some people at hack drinks about this, a guy said how do you get up and just keep doing it when a lot of what you do feels pointless and I was like well: master woodworkers spend a lot of time putting up shelves. Sometimes they are lovely, beautiful shelves that people really appreciate in their homes but nonetheless, they are shelves. Once in awhile, there’s the job that actually asks for the master woodworking skills and they get to do all the fancy bits and they’re no worse at doing that for all the days they put up shelves.

Using a paraphraser doesn’t make you a bad writer. We wouldn’t be surprised if someone in another trade used a tool to improve the way they worked, why would it matter in writing? People get very silly about this; writing is a trade and a craft and what matters a lot of the time is accuracy. No one would be disappointed to see an architect take measurements. Using tools like spellcheck and paraphrasers and dictionaries is just the same as using house style or any of the other rules of writing that people get oddly passionate about.

English isn’t really my first language (in chronological order it’s more like my fourth) and honestly, most of the way I write is “wrong.” I don’t understand grammar terms (literally not a fucking clue what the pluperfect is) and I overuse parentheses, commas, dashes, etc. The only piece of pronunciation I can deploy accurately is the semi-colon; although most style guides recommend not using them. English is a bastard language and you can hack it all you like - please never feel like English proficiency is a particular barrier to writing in it. 

[edit: amazing that I managed to type 'pronunciation' instead of 'punctuation' above, proving my own point]

A lot of drivers speak in broken English and even the ones it’s a first language for often use repetitive phrases But we can all understand what they mean; sometimes it doesn’t need to be more than that. 

So: how can you tell if you’re good? Well, do you get up most days and write something? Congratulations, you’re doing better than the majority of writers. Do your pieces get published and read? Again, you’re over a hurdle many fall at. 

Some of the greatest writers of all time have been extremely slow. I’m an unnaturally fast writer because literally every thought that enters my head hits the page but that doesn’t mean most of them should be there. You are not in a race to be able to do it and trying to push yourself for speed is likely to make you more burned out and blocked and frustrated. 

Lots of things make a good writer: sometimes, just hitting deadlines is what’s needed. I admire people who can do that because I absolutely fucking can’t. Sometimes it’s being able to transcribe the podium quotes in real time, my one actual skill. Sometimes it’s even the moment where you turn in a few paragraphs and think fuck yeah, I’m writing-writing 

and then you open another document and are confronted with trying to describe a KIA hatchback and you’re like. Fuck me, I’m awful at this. I don’t know what a car is. What the fuck am I doing here.

Writing, especially in the internet age, is a fairly thankless task; people don’t tend to tell you when you’re good at it as much as they attack and pick holes in it. We’re probably not meant to get this much feedback, it’s literally bad for the human brain. 

But listen: if you’re writing about motorsport, especially if you’ve been doing it for awhile, then you’re a writer and you’re doing well. If you’re writing from the bottom of your heart then I have no doubt that shows and if you’re writing for the love of it, then that does too.

There are terrible writers who get good gigs purely because they aren’t wracked with these anxieties. It definitely doesn’t sound like you’re one of them; you clearly care deeply about your writing and that’s not a flaw. Sometimes, it’s really hard to love what we write - especially on the day-to-day - but I am certain anything you think about this much, anything you worry over this much, is a better piece than someone who goes into it without that care and attention and thought. 

And all of that comes from you, a good writer.

[blackfairy312]

i'm playing genshin right now bc i need to rale a break from Drawing and also cause WANDERER IS IN THE NEE EVENT AND SO IS ALBEDO AND IM SO EXCTIED TO SEE THEM INTERACT, so i'm resharing some old Snuppet art (Komi/Scaramouche) + Albedo

fun fact about this ship: it literally came to us in a dream . i can't remember all of the details of the dream but one section of it had this interaction between Scaramouche and Komi and they were talking at a campfire in the woods about how similar they are . when we woke up from that dream we went "Wow . thats an interesting idea" and made the first doodle .

KOMI LORE BELOW PAY ATTENTION 😮 (this lore is all also on this link)

the similarities between them being ;

Komi was once a porcelain doll (Kari Barisol) created by a god (Behemo Barisol), who was given life and treated as a daughter. one day, some asshole (Seth Twiright) corrupted Kari with Malice (HERs, also known as Hereditary Evil Raiser's syndrome) z if you guys Know Evillious Chronicles lore you know that meant that Kari wasnt allowed to board the Arc, so Behemo created a Black Box and put Kari inside it, and they sent her off .

in her other life, Komi was once a snake (Kaori, the snake of creating eyes) that belonged to a goddess (Azami, also called a Medusa, a Shinigami, and a Gorgon in translations) . one day she met an asshole (her brother Saeru, the snake of clearing eyes) and he lied to her and said that he was going to bring her to a Utopia where she could live and be free like a human. if you Know the Kagerou Project lore you know exactly what Saeru was ACTUALLY doing .

Kari's Black Box fell through a Rift (rip in the fabric of reality that bleed into other universes) and she ended ip in the Kagerou Project universe. MANY THINGS HAPPEN that lead to Kari and Kaori in their "human" bodies dying together. until they perform a Re_birthday spell that takes their souls and turns them into Komi . who is then told by a higher being to act as her pawn, which Komi does, cause she can't remember her past lives.

Komi meets Scaramouche a while after she's recovered her past memories. she, like him, has been "betrayed" three times (Behemo had to cast her aside, Saeru lied to her, and the VOID is just using her in Scara's words) , she doesnt see it that way (except for Saeru) .

Komi and Scaramouche bond over the things that happened to them and what they plan to do next . Komi loves humanity and cherishes humanity memories, and Scaramouche (Fatui arc) couldnt care less really . THEY ARE OPPOSITES ATTRACT ARGHH

second Image is like , doodles from a one-shot we wrote about Komi and Scaramouche sharing a bed, despite the fact that Scaramouche doesn't need to nor does he want to go to sleep, and Komi also doesn't need to sleep but can, often does so, but is currently avoiding it because she has nightmares. They just lay there in silence for hours. a doll and a puppet .

third image is the Poly Ship between Scaramouche/Pinokio (thats the name we gave our Wanderer), Komi, and Albedo . i don't remember their ship name . rhis polyship exists bc Albedo is ALSO an artificial living being with an interesting view on humanity who would have an interesting dynamic with Hat Guy . AGRHEHDNSMXMSNNSN

the ship name is Snuppet because Snake + Puppet but the emojis for the ship are 🐍☂️ cause of that fuck ass hat he wears .

this is a more Recent one lol

komi was in two previous relationships by the time she meets scara/pinokio . her first was robin fire emblem that lasted like 3-ish years before he died and her second was Really Bad . meaning that Komi is in her hopeless romantic era during the Genshin Period of her life (which, for context, is like . 10,000+ years (of her life, not time as we understand it) before she dates the Puppeteer , where she isnt really excited ar the idea of going on a date anymore .

[gamerbearmira]

I wrote this during my free period. Also THANK YOU FOR THE ART ITS BEAUTIFUL YOU GOT HER WINGS PERFECTLY ID LOVE TO SEE MORE

Flight AU part 2

Mirabel is nine in this AU, about a year before Antonio, is born. Her dynamic with her family is pretty much the same, the only difference is that corrected their negative behavior toward her early on because Casita got pretty violent to whoever was mean to her, that included Abuela. The first time she showed dismissive behavior to Mirabel Casita threatened to put out the candle. Also, Candle and Casita can communicate with each other and Casita has a potty mouth.

When Mirabel's wings first emerged her little nine-year-old body couldn’t handle the energy it took out on her body and had to stay in bed. Her back was bruised beyond comprehension but she could at least lie down on it. She was born early so the pain made her really woozy and dizzy, so she was back on bed rest. But the most difficult part was keeping the girl in her bed, she git a door, you bet she was gonna see it.

The grandkids were just in complete awe because her wings were beautiful, and they were super soft. Camilo couldn’t stop touching them. Mirabel was still getting used to having extra body parts, so she accidentally smacked a few people, mostly her dad because it was taking some time for her to handle them properly.

The adults had a private meeting when all the kids were playing with Mirabel and her wings. About the elephant in the room. *Cough cough* her being the next candle holder. *cough* Abuela couldn’t stop staring at her door, and had even tried to open it, but restrained herself because it was Mirabel’s right. She waited long enough for this. She talked with Julieta was believed that they could spend more time together, but being the next candle holder shouldn’t be her entire personality. She was still a kid. She shouldn’t have such an important task on her shoulders now at nine years old.

Her relationship with her everyone is pretty much the same. Except everyone LOVES her. Camilo has completely claimed her as his twin and Dolores has been an older sister to her for years. Isabela is a little more complicated. She was never outright mean to her, never belittled her, and allowed her to be bullied, she just never really spent any time with Mirabel. Which is part of the reason why she didn’t stay in the room. She felt like she was overstepping and her presence wouldn’t be welcomed when they barely spent any time together.

Pepa has all but adopted her. Julieta has chanced her with a rolling pin more than once when she found out that Mirabel was having her call her Tia Mami more than once when she was a baby. She still does.

This was actually perfect timing because her birthday was literally in two days when they realized how close it was they all panicked and rushed into town for last-minute preparation which wasn’t hard since everyone knew Mirabel’s birthday was coming so they set special supplies aside for the family.

Abuela is much kinda and sweeter to her, even before she got her gift. It’s no secret that even while Isabela has her favorite gift, Mirabel was her favorite grandkid personality-wise because she reminded her so much of Pedro. Abuela had asked if Mirabel wanted to redo her ceremony at her 10th birthday party. She’d walk to her door, her wings open for everyone to see and everyone would see her amazing door. Mirabel nodded and hugged her Abuel. She realized her mistake early and is doing her best to be the greatest Abuela she can be.

Her party is awesome. Like they went all out for the girl. Sparklers, all her favorite foods, and flowers, Pepa refused to rain at all the sky was completely clear. The only issue was the birthday girl in question was gone. She was hidden behind the curtain at the start of the party and stayed there until everyone arrived. When they did Casita parted the floors with a red carpet and moved everyone over to make way for her. The town just insert Pikachu face. Mirabel wore a white dress that faded into various shades of blue on the skirt. Her wings are in full view. Casta covered her room with a tarp to not ruin the surprise for the town.

When she reached the top she placed her hands on the candle as Abuela gave her usual speech with a little twist.

“Mirabel. Fifty years ago we were given a Miracle, that blessed each member of our family with a gift, and now it is your turn. You have been a miracle of your own with your sweetheart and kind voice. You have been blessed twice: once with the wings of an angel and our family candle. Do you promise, when the time comes, that you will watch over our beloved Encanto when I am no longer able to?”

“I do Abuela.”

“Do you promise to watch over our family and our magic?”

“I will.”

Abuela smiled fondly at the young girl, and gently cupped her cheek. “Go, open your door.” Everyone was on the edge of their seats, leaning forwards and gasping when the tarp rose to reveal the image of Mirabel holding the candle with her wongs in full view. She hesitated to open the door, the fear of it disappearing and her wings leaving her. Casita tapped the back of her feet, and she smiled. The fear disappeared as she firmly took the doorknob in her hand and turned the nob.

We had started to glow! Some of the white and blue feathers fell and turned gold before changing into butterflies that floated above her head. One sat in her hair and changed into a beautiful hairpin with blue jewels, the winds white with specs of different colors here and there. The door flashed and blinded everyone when it opened. Once her vision returned, her eyes filled with tears.

The room was HUGE. Far bigger than Isabela’s, the biggest in the house. The ceiling was endless, and you couldn’t even see the walls. The room itself was an endless field, lush green grass stretched as far as the eye can see. A garden filled with all her favorite flowers greeted her. Trees stretched upwards and vines hung down, some holding up her giant white and blue bed. Above the trees, were floating islands, dozens, each one different. One was a desert oasis, and another was an island of storms and lightning, with an ocean. Another one was a few smaller islands collecting a source of water that had a waterfall that fell into a giant pond on the side of her bed.

A flock of gold, blue, and white butterflies flew from the trees and swirled around Mirabel, some nestled in her hair. One sat on her nose and stared at her before perching on her shoulder. The rest floated into the air and dissipated into a cloud of glitter. Mirabel was in shock. She stood with tears streaming down her cheeks. She excitedly flapped her wings and suddenly took off into the sky.

Her wings were big when they were folded in, but stretched out they were gigantic. She was fast. A trail of feathers followed her that changed into butterflies followed her around her room and around the islands. Her wings were strong, and she couldn’t control her speed, but she didn’t care. She was FLYING! She looked down at the cheering crowd and the prideful looks of her family. She smiled back at them. She flew down into the trees and caught some vines to stop herself and sprinted over to her family. Her mother pulled her into a tight hug and whispered “you looked so beautiful mija.” Abuela called her over, “A picture! Come on everyone, we need a picture!” She was pushed into the front, her wings stretched out for all to see. This was perfect. This is exactly what she wanted. She was really part of her family. Her Abuela knelt down and placed the family candle in her hands and patted her cheek. “I am so proud of you, Mirabel.”

“Alright, everyone! One, two three!”

“La Familia Madrigal!”

The picture was perfect. Her wings kept glowing, and her smile matched.

—------

Mirabel’s gift is kind of three in one. On top of flying, she can pluck a feather from the wings and make it transform into whatever she wants and needs. Like, say if she’s out of thread, she can take a feather and think about the kind of thread she wants and the feather will transform. If the feather fell off on its own then it can turn into a butterfly, one of three colors. Each color has a different role.

Blue butterflies huddle close to Mirabel to help with small personal things, like bringing her an arepa if she’s hungry. If there's a bunch of them together she can communicate with them and have them do bigger tasks.

Golden butterflies are ones that can be given to people and change into whatever they need. Note NEED.

White butterflies can shift into copies of her. Only a few of these can be used at a time. They are pure white copies of light that hang around for a few minutes so long as the butterfly is intact, if the butterfly is damaged in any way the copy will disappear.

This will only work if SHE plucks the feather. It won’t hurt if she does it and will immediately grow back. If someone else does, it’ll hurt her, and won’t do anything but turn back and fade away. She can’t fly for too long and she can’t use too many feathers as it takes a lot of energy for her, and if she overexerts herself she’ll pass out, which is dangerous when she’s in the sky. It helps if she eats, it’s a lot like Camilo and his gift, and it uses a lot of stamina.

THANK YOU FOR MAKING THIS AU⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ LOVE DOING ART

Shoutout to the family for staying by her side in the after math, that’s so kool 🔇🔇🔇Love the Alma for letting her redo her ceremony, that’s so cool <333 also the grandkids being. Amazed by her wings is so valid. Lets be real, Camilo (and later Antonio) always ask for rides. BUT ANYWAY CEREMONY. Her being nervous, poor girl, guve that girl sum water 😭 she was probably. SO SCARED. But she had her family next to her, and they’re so real for that <333

AND HER ROOM…SO RAD…I imagine she has a lot of room to fly, so that’s cool <333 and her abilities, they’re so unique‼️‼️ I lob the butterflies 🦅🦅🦅🔇🔇🔇 Let’s hope the town doesn’t try to run her dry cause. That’s not cool 🤨

I’m sorry there were so many that fit. I have a terrible sense of humor <\\3

One without of course <33

THIS WAS SO COOL THANK YOU FOR DA LORE…

[crisp-ta]

fanfic appreciation post!!

(recs and appreciation under the cut!)

Hi! I've been wanting to make a fanfic appreciation post for a while and herreeee it finally issss!!

Just wanted to let you writers know that you guys inspire me a lot and have gotten me through the toughest times. When I feel like I'm not enough at school or at home, I have a character that relates to me and I feel less alone. Or when I'm just feeling down, there are those oddly specifically humored fics that make me feel a million times better. There are also ones with the 10000/10 vibes omgggg. I literally have so many Pinterest boards set up so I could make fanart for them. And I love this about fandoms, people's art inspires others to make art and we support each other.

So as more appreciation, I wanted to share a few of my favorites! Just as a warning, these are mostly bad guys-centric! Also most of these are SFW! Ill put this emoji 🔞 if it isn't! (also these aren't in any order! I love them all) Also feel free to share your faves!! :))

Take it or Leave it by Smileyjack (The Bad Guys) Snake can't sleep bc he's cold so he cuddles with Wolf to warm up while he's sleeping. Snake, the denier he is, can't get over how in love he is with Wolf, and when Wolf asks him about it. Snake is such as dork about not wanting to admit he wants love and attention and this fic DOES IT JUSTICEEEE (epic echoey voice) also I love Snake and Wolf's mannerisms and dialogue in here. Mwah so good such a good fic to go to bed to👩‍🍳🫶

lighthouse by jjsworld2021 (The Bad Guys) Snake angst where he is molting and gets sad and remembers his past through a notebook and Wolf is soooososo sweet comforting him. It's got angst with a whole lot of heart, Wolf being such a sweetheart (also snake being a loving softie), fluffyvenom kisses and cuddles, and snake lore.

Sick day by daniel_lee and TotallyNotALemon (The Bad Guys) Wolf is sick and Snake takes care of him and it's sooooo sweeeeettt. Wolf is also a brat and it's hilarious. Wolf's smug ass is something I'll never get tired of.

Chocolate haze by @shelli-gator (The Bad Guys) Mostly where Snake tends to a cut on Wolf's face. It kinda has some lore about how Wolf got the scar on his eyebrow and how the bad guys made it a thing to not make their criminal acts personal. This fic kinda took it that the bad guys were more of a gang, but it doesn't bother me too much bc it was mostly fluffyvenom-centric. But MMMMMMM I love the way the author wrote this. They described things in a style I've never read before?? it lowkey reminds me of the way the author of Peacekeeper writes. Their tone was so beautiful, serious, but also hoootttt. Also they described the surroundings and how Wolf/Snake looked at each other (physical appearance) and I could just imagine how this could look in my head

Divorce Drive by daniel_lee and TotallyNotALemon (🔞 for explicit sexual content) (The Bad Guys) Ugh these two are a writing power couple I swear. This one's where Wolf and Snake have recently divorced (not from each other but Wolf from Diane and Snake from a snake lady) and Wolf meets Snake in a bar and asks to hook up. It had everything I needed and more. Wolfs rizz the beginning and throughout was soooo hot my hot compress could not. I soo want to do fan art for Wolf being at the bar, GOD. Also, I thought this would be straight up pwnp but I WAS VERY INCORRECT. It had lots of feelings. Anyways I loved this one a lot!! It was especially comforting during crappy period feeling time :(

Go Bad or Go Home by @bloomtoy (The Bad Guys) A series where about how Wolf and Snake met. It follows their early heists and I love their conversations. This is the one where they met bc they were trying to steal the same diamond and teamed up to escape.

The Enigma Project by SpookOrSpectre (zootopia) (beware this is unfinished but there's more chapters on fanfic.net) UUGGHHHH this has literally been my personality for a while. Also got me thru a lot of school depresso hours. This takes place after the movie where Nick and Judy art buddy cops. They are assigned a case by Bogo that turns out to be a supernatural thing. There's this org called A3I with deals with those sorts of cases and Nick and Judy end up joining them in their cases. It's a very detective mystery but also suuuUUPPER SPPPOOOOKY. I had to stop reading this at night at some point bc I got too scared. I love the way they wrote Nick and Judy in the first few chapters. They got such good chemistry and it sounded SOOOO like the original movie and it even added more. IT WAS GIVINGGGG.

Daddy Long Legs by MidnightStrix (Helluva Boss) (🔞 for explicit sexual content) Where Stolas and Blitzo are doing their monthly hookup but Blitzo gets caught up thinking about never being able to be loved. I looove the writing in this one! It was so sarcastic and I loved reading about Blitzo's internal monologue. Just a warning, it is pretty explicit (i just started getting into the Helluva fanfics, if yall have any recs please send them :'))

[spidey-bie]

(Don't know if my first ask sent, tumblr is broken) I'm doing the research and draft for the Analysis, and I was going through spider-geddon again and the opening scene where they show the white-washed Hobie? It's actually kinda Highkey racist in the most ignorant way possible. What I'm talking about, for reference;

Didn't catch it? Neither did I until I realized he was white-washed to hell. Let me be very clear about a couple things first. In new york's justice system, Cops aren't paid by the amount of times they work, they're paid by the amount of arrests. This means that high amounts of people go forward into the justice system in false charges, but here's the fucking kicker, there's so much going in during the 2010s that it was recorded to be a 2 year wait period for anyone to even be able to get a trial because they didn't have enough judges for the amount of people being turned in. So, they'd sit in jail cells for 2 years. Yes, alot of it was also targeting black people because *of course* so that's plenty of bullshit right there. That's 2 years of trauma in an environment that makes violence incredibly common. People who experience violence are twice as less likely to fight back the next time that they get in a situation. This entire line is fucking bullshit because nobody who understands the harm that experiences violence (WHICH HOBIE HAS, HE'S HOMELESS IN NEW YORK. MAKE NO DOUBT ABOUT THAT) would brag about it because it makes them sick. Then, you see they white-washed his character to hell. It's giving 1800s Enslavers "We can't set them free, because if we do that they'll kill random people in the street like the native americans! We have to keep them in cages!" Because the only people who will tell you someone takes pride by breaking someone down and making them feel worthless, by killing someone in a high public event where children can see it and live with life-long issues, is someone with little regard to their own person and others. They're straight up portraying this goddamn character as a sociopath. The white-washed character, who was made by a black person and was black before they stripped away his culture and color. So, I'm taking out this entire fucking section of material from my reading list to review in the analysis, and this is why. I love this character a bit too much to do this to the motherfucker. The entire team who wrote this was white. All 53 of them.

You bring up a good point. When I originally read that page I just chuckled and moved on because I didn't know enough about Hobie's character to see the issue. But now that you point this out it does seem like they pretty much just made him trigger happy.

I don't know the context behind this panel but I highly doubt murder is going to be his first option when it comes to solving his problems. Especially with the amount of emotional turmoil that he went through after he did kill the President. Just sitting there going, "I killed the president don't think that I won't kill the Inheritors too," don't get me wrong as you said before he doesn't feel any guilt behind killing Osborn however there was history there that built up to that. (And even then it wasn't premeditated either.)

Hi, I read the wiki about the Inheritors. Adding on to that last paragraph. From what I'm understanding they already had previously dealt with the Inheritors so that they could bring harm to anyone anymore. Why in the world would Hobie be like, "Even though we've already solved the problem ws should still kill them." I understand your rage now.

They literally took a character that's rightfully emotional and angry from having to fight for his life for a number of years under a fascist regime and somehow spun that into a character that's full of murderous intent whose first thought is always going to be we should just kill them. I ju-

Sigh

I'm just gonna end it here before I get too mad. I just can't right now.

[bqstqnbruin]

I literally just need to rant so that I can let this out now and I don't end up screaming at my class tomorrow after their quiz today

I make myself so available to my girls for when they need help. I am in my classroom at 6:35-6:40 am every morning when class starts at 8:15 and can stay after pretty much every day after school unless there's a faculty meeting. I have free periods that a lot of my other students have and all they have to do is tell me they want to come see me and I excuse them from their study. Even if I'm teaching another class, I tell them you can come, I just can't be answering your questions the entire time and you have to be mindful of that. We have this thing called community time which is a school wide free period but that gets taken up a lot because of meetings and mass and community prayer etc so it's really hard to come in/meet with students during that time. I even answer my emails at night until I go to sleep, when technically, I only have to answer them until 3:30 because that's my contract hours and I have to make sure I answer them in some way within 24 hours, whether it's in an email response or in class the next day.

My girls had a lab due today at the end of class, and I told them that if they know they are the type of person/student who takes a long time with their quizzes, that they need to have the lab done before hand/ask their questions before. They did the lab on Monday, and not a single student emailed me or came in to ask any questions at any time.

My one section of sophomores today had a quiz. The only emails I got last night from them were "what are the pages the quiz is on?" and "what's the format of the quiz?", and last night was the only night they emailed me. The quiz has been posted on Canvas since January 23rd. I have had it written on the board every class for the last week at least, and I mention it in class at the start and end of each class during that time what pages the quiz covered and we said that they quiz is the same format as the other like 10 they have taken for me.

This is my class where as soon as I say something, they don't even give me the chance to explain what I mean before they are yelling at me "I don't get it." None of them have asked questions about the material since we finished it on the 31st (just due to scheduling and timing it's been a week). They don't listen to me when I tell them what page we are on in the notes, where in their notes they can find the answer to their questions, and then don't listen to me when I tell them to write something down in their notes.

Their quiz today was after community time, but we had community prayer, so we only ended up having about 20 minutes of CT. I was so overwhelmed and also have not been feeling good that I could not be around them, so I went to the faculty room where we were actually discussing something kind of serious because one of our coworkers has been having complications with her pregnancy so we were trying figure out what to do before her long term sub comes in since her doctors told her she's staying in the hospital until the baby comes, and my girls interrupt and start telling me that I needed to be in my room because they needed help until my department head had to say, no, sorry, we're in the middle of something and this is kind of urgent.

I got to my room right when class started because of this meeting and they told me it was my fault they were going to do badly because I am never available to them and that I'm always hiding from them. One girl even wrote on her quiz that she did bad because she came today during CT when she had "a LOT of questions, but you weren't there, so" and that she missed all of the notes, when that was back on the 26th, I had her friend send them to her, I asked her to confirm that she got them, and asked her if she understood them, and she told me yes to both. One of my students emailed me saying that because I made the quiz "so hard" that she didn't finish, and that she needed to come back in and finish it, which isn't allowed by department and school policy. Also, the questions from the quiz were pulled right from their notes. They had two homework assignments where I took questions from those assignments and just pasted them into the quiz, and they had the homework pages back and graded the class before.

On top of that, more than half the class didn't turn in the lab, and they're mad at me for telling them that I have to follow the "late work policy" that we have, which I have already made as generous as possible. And before anyone gets on me about the policy, don't. We are told we have to have one. Mine is that I take off 1 point on the assignment per class that it's late. Other teachers do 10% every calendar day it's late. Some teachers even do 50% off right away and then down from there, too. There are teachers who won't accept late work at all.

This class ended up getting an average of a 75.6% on this quiz. I'm not surprised but I'm so disappointed because what else am I supposed to do? Like, it's an honors class. It's not supposed to be as easy as the regular class, and I know it's not as hard as the AP class because I also teach AP. I cannot make it easier because then it loses it's integrity.