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fangsandfeels · 11 months

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The vagueness of Astarion sleeping mechanics drives me mad sometimes

So, the game says that elves don't sleep - to the point where it's ironically stated that the only way for them to experience sleeping is to either drink a potion of Angelic Slumber or "get hit really hard with a chair".

Instead, they enter a semi-aware meditative state (Revery) where they experience memories from their past lives (usually most positive and emotional parts). Or they just sorting through their current memories.

Now, we've seen Astarion meditating if his way of lying on a bedroll is anything to go by. He is also immune to sleeping spells. We could also see him sleeping (in a Durge run). I know that devs technically recycle the same sleeping pose for all romanced companions, but still. Also, Astarion has nightmares, which is not typical for elves.

Of course, when I was going through the lore, I scratched the surface, but from what I understood, Revery is supposed to be a controlled state, and nightmares aren't exactly controlled.

But, I've found a very interesting bit that (so far) is still considered part of the official canon:

Elves can sleep and dream just like any human, but almost all surface elves avoid doing so. Dreams, as humans know them, are strange and confusing to elves. Unlike the actual memories of one’s primal soul, present life, or past lives, dreams are uncontrolled products of the subconscious, and perhaps the subconscious minds of those past lives or primal souls as well. An elf who dreams must always wonder whose mind these thoughts first arose from, and why. Priests of Sehanine Moonbow are an exception: they sleep and dream to receive signs from their god, and elves consult such priests to interpret their own dreams."

From: Mordenkainrn's Tome Of Foes, Chapter 2: Elves

And not only does this little bit explain a lot, but it also provides some food for your fic writing purposes.

Now, I'm entering the headcanon territory, so be warned.

Astarion's access to Revery got horribly fucked up after he had been Turned. Not only does he no longer have access to his previous lives since he is technically dead and plucked from the cycle, but he also can't even have his happy or good memories before he became a spawn. Even if they are still there, somewhere in the memory palace, getting to them requires going through the catalog of traumatic and painful memories he acquired after being enslaved by Cazador. It's like running through a burning house trying to rescue your family photo - and the hall gets longer each time. So, entering a trance means confronting the worst memories of his life over and over because there is nothing else there.

Due to this Astarion may resort to sleeping, which elves don't usually do. Elves don't like dreams because dreams are subconscious, and they can't be controlled, which scares them. For Astarion, however, it means there is a chance of him subconsciously dreaming of something nice or just being blissfully empty. However, it doesn't safeguard him from nightmares which (because they are the product of his unconsciousness) get even more twisted than simple memories.

Additionally, there can be a possibility that after becoming a spawn he got cut off from meditation and trances completely, relying on sleeping only: at least, the cut spawn epilogue by Withers mentions how while Astarion needs to sleep again, he doesn't sleep alone. While we don't know what that means exactly (and whether it will ever be implemented in the game), I assume that the tadpole gave him the ability to meditate back, but it was a small improvement because his memory headspace no longer holds happy memories capable of offering solace or refuge.

So, my personal headcanon is that he switches between meditating and sleeping depending on how aware he needs to be, and whatever option feels less torturous at the moment.

For instance, in his Origin run, when he remembers the moment of Cazador carving scars into him, he is in a trance. Which is why the memory is so horribly vivid, as if he is reliving it anew.

However, when he has a nightmare where Cazador finds him, he is sleeping and experiencing a memory affected by his subconsciousness. Which is why he jolts himself awake and desperate to know the limits of his freedom.

So, yes, the man literally can't catch a break.

On a happier note (and for your hurt/comfort fanfiction purposes), once Astarion starts traveling with Tav and the group, his memory bank gets updated with memories that are actually fun and nice, so he has something to linger upon when he is meditating. Sleeping gradually becomes a bit more pleasant experience because his subconsciousness got more material to work with, so the quality of his non-controlled dreams has to gradually improve.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion brainrot #dnd elves are strange #feel free to correct me if i goofed up #because it's quite likely i goofed up

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 11 months

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lover, you should've come over - m. schmidt

a/n: you guys should have seen this one coming! as always i appreciate any likes and reblogs and hope you enjoy :) warnings: suggestive themes, big angst, lots of talk about tattoos and pain and needles, mike having horrible anxiety and commitment issues, reader is mostly gender neutral except for one thing ! tattoo aftercare, hurt/comfort, kissing word count: 3.6k summary: you get a tattoo, and it terrifies mike. mostly because he realizes how much you love him. pairing: mike schmidt x gn!reader now playing: lover, you should've come over - jeff buckley "my body turns and yearns/for a sleep that won't ever come/it's never over/my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder."

Penny has done almost all of your tattoos, save for the stick and poke star you gave yourself while you were way too high to be handling that sort of equipment, and a few flash designs you’ve gotten for holidays. And usually, you keep it simple and easy, pitching a design idea and getting a finished stencil a few hours later.

But this time, you go into the shop a few months before you plan to get the tattoo and describe to her what you want. She’s shocked that you want a half sleeve—It’s a big step, she tells you, and it’ll mean sitting for a few hours while she does her work. It’ll be painful, and the design will take a few weeks to get made, because she wants to give you the best possible design.

She does good work. When you visit again in about three weeks, you put down a deposit and make an official date to get it done. October 9th.

You go home that night to your small, but warm home to find your boyfriend trying to make chicken parm. His goal all year has been to learn how to cook, not just to make things out of a box. You know a bit better how to cook, but you let him improve his skills, always providing helpful, gentle critiques.

Abby is worse at being gentle.

She’s brutal with her brother’s cooking, and even though Mike loves your gentle words, he appreciates Abby’s feedback, and just wants her to eat a full plate of food before bed each night.

Tonight, his food smells good. You mentioned about a month ago how you missed your mom’s chicken parm, and since then, he’s been reading and researching different recipes at work. Ever since he quit working at Freddy’s, he’s put down the book of dreams and has picked up cookbooks, working his way up slowly.

You tell him he’ll be making Thanksgiving Dinner in no time. You kiss his jaw when you say that, and later, he returns the favor by placing a kiss to your shoulder.

You go to him, standing in the kitchen, as he squints at the recipe book in front of him. He wears washed blue jeans, an old Foo Fighters tee shirt and a pair of blue fuzzy socks. A towel hangs over his shoulder as he mutters to himself, as he gets ready to put some garlic bread in the oven.

You’re still in your work clothes, though, it’s not as if you’re wearing anything fancy. Just a different pair of jeans, and a tee shirt with your shop’s logo on it. Your hair is messy, and you smell vaguely of dirt. The smell has become comforting to him in his time knowing you.

You step closer to him, a hand resting gently on his shoulder. He relaxes at your touch.

“Hey, Mike.” You say softly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, how was your day?”

“Not too bad. The food smells pretty good.”

“You think so?” His voice is hopeful, especially since he’s trying to live up to your memories of the dish as a kid. It’s his way of thanking you for being so good to him while he’s gotten his shit together.

“Mhm. I’m gonna go wash up and have Abby help me set the table.” You tell him. You kiss his jaw quickly before heading off to the bathroom to scrub the dirt from beneath your fingernails. You wash your face and arms too and begin to realize how domestic this all is.

You never saw yourself having kids, and never thought of yourself dating someone who did.

And you still never think about having kids, but you did find yourself treating Abby as if she is your own. This has nothing to do with how much you adore her brother. Abby is just easy to love. You wonder if anyone’s ever told her that.

When your work boots find themselves at the end of your bed, you change into a muscle tee. You’re awfully fond of them. You find a pair of Mike’s fuzzy socks and slip them on too. You take a moment to stare at your shoulder in the mirror, imagining how it’ll look when ink covers it. Most of your tattoos are on your legs, and for a long time, this arm has been bare of any ink. You’ve been saving it for this project for years.

You go to Abby’s room and knock gently before entering. You find her painting at this aisle you got for her birthday. She’s been working on this painting for a few days now, and it’s turning out quite nice.

“Hey, Abs.” You say softly, and she puts her paintbrush down to give you this big, toothy grin. “Go wash up and help me set the table?” You ask.

“Sure.” She hums and starts to skip along to the bathroom, but you stop her at the door.

“And remember, even if Mike’s food is bad, what do we say?”

“Mm, this food is so good and not horrible at all!”

“Abby.”

She sighs.

“This is unlike anything you’ve made before, and I appreciate the effort?”

“That’s it.” You let her go wash up, and then go to set the table.

When Mike eventually serves dinner, you’re starved. You don’t care if it’s bad, or if it’s burnt, you know you’ll like it because you weren’t able to take a lunch break that day. But it genuinely looks good.

He cuts up Abby’s food and puts the plate in front of her before sitting down and looking to you two for a reaction. You take a bite, and you have to pause.

Did Mike really cook something not just edible, but… good?

Not fine, not decent, really good.

“Mike, this is—”

“Amazing!” Abby gasps, going in for another bite. His cheeks flush.

“You guys don’t have to pretend, it’s alright—”

“No, Mike, we’re not pretending, it’s really good!” You defend, going in for a second bite yourself. “Try it!”

He does, and he even looks shocked at the quality of the food he’s produced. And it sets the mood for the whole dinner, until you eventually blurt out,

“I booked a tattoo appointment for next week.”

“What are you getting?” Mike can’t ever admit this to you, but he adores your tattoos. He thinks the placement of them are all wonderful, even if they’re smaller. He likes to kiss them, to trace his fingers over them, to just admire them in the summer.

“It’s a surprise.” You tell him. Owning your own shop and being your own boss has its perks. You have no worries about people judging you for your half sleeve, deciding that you can just ban them from your shop.

Your conversation drifts off and you focus on other things. When you’re done, you and Mike begin to clean up with him, letting some of the pan soak in the sink. You sit on the counter, drying some of the plates as Mike rinses.

“Thank you for dinner.” You tell him.

“I’m glad you liked it.” Comfortable silence fills the room. “You’re really not gonna tell me what you’re getting?”

“I told you, it’s a surprise.” You smile softly. He dries his hand and steps between your legs. His hands land on either side of you, caging you in.

“Tease.” He mumbled, leaning forward, and kissing your shoulder. A hand goes to his hair, your fingers tangling in his locks.

“I’m not teasing, I’m just being a little secretive.” You tell him, playing with his hair. You’re a fan of the scruff he’s been growing out lately.

“Isn’t it gonna hurt?”

“Yeah, but I’ll take breaks and remember to eat.” You tell him. “This isn’t my first tattoo, Mike.”

“I know, baby.” He says softly, “I just get worried—”

“You get worried about me? And yet, when I’m worried about you, you ignore me but—” He cuts you off with a kiss, and your hands land on his jaw, the scruff tickling your face.

• • •

The ink swirls around your shoulder, a moth wrapping around your shoulder and reaching to the top of your arm. Vines wrap around the moth, as flowers bloom in different places. Your birth flower is one of them, as well as your mother’s. You also place Abby and Mike’s around the moth, maybe protecting it. Thorns poke out of some of the vines, and the ink covers your shoulder, and down to just above your elbow.

You got it done on a Saturday afternoon, leaving late enough so Mike could sleep in without having to deal with Abby, but being able to give them some time to relax together.

It takes a few hours, and by the end of it, you’re exhausted. As with all your other tattoos, you’re sore, but this is a new type of sore. You ache for Mike’s hands on you, to hold you and kiss your shoulders, even though he can’t kiss your left shoulder for a few days.

The second skin will remain on your arm for a day or two, and then you’ll have to go through the process of moisturizing your tattoo.

You have Penny take lots of photos of it before you head home, Mike and Abby both waiting in anticipation for you to come home and show them your new ink. You’re excited to show them, since there’s a connection to them in the art.

When you open the door, Abby runs to you and immediately starts to look for the ink in question. She gasps when she sees it, all wrapped up on your arm.

“It’s a moth,” You tell her, “With my favorite plants.” You crouch down to point out different plans in the works. “These are my mom’s birth flowers, they’re carnations.” You tell her, “Do you know what these are?” You point to another flower.

Abby shakes her head, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the fresh, raw flesh of the person she considers to be her caregiver.

“They’re lily of the valley flowers. They’re your birth flower.” You reach out and tuck hair behind her ear. Then, you point to the third flower. “And these? They’re honey suckles. They’re Mike’s birth flower.”

Mike watches your interaction, listening to your explanation of the tattoo. Suddenly, this anxiety pools in his chest. You’ve been living together for a few months, but somehow a symbol of him and Abby being engraved on your skin makes things all too real.

He could cry.

“Did you get the flowers because you’re a flower person?” You grin, knowing she doesn’t remember the title of your job.

“Botanist, you mean? Sort of, but you two mean a lot to me, and I wanted to tribute something to you guys.” You confess.

She grins and turns to look at Mike.

“I wanna be a tattoo artist when I’m older.” Mike is pale with anxiety.

He wants to tell you it looks good, that it’s brilliantly done, but he doesn’t find it in himself. He wants to run, to abandon this relationship at the door, to never speak to you again to avoid the fact that he wants you desperately and thinks he might marry you one day.

He walks off to the bathroom, and he’s unsure if it’s to throw up or to cry.

You’re disappointed, because you wanted him to like it desperately, since this tattoo is now on you forever, and you wanted it to be a tribute to him. It almost hurts you that he doesn’t love it. Or at least pretend to. Instead, his disdain is visible on his face, and you do your best to turn your attention back to Abby.

“Wanna help me make dinner?” You smile softly, and she nods.

“Did your tattoo hurt?” She acts gently.

“Yeah, but with a good artist it goes quickly, and they don’t aim to torture you.” You explain, as you begin to make mac and cheese.

As she sets the table, you turn back to her and ask, “Can you go get Mike for dinner?” She nods and skips along to your bedroom, where Mike sits on the bed, frustrated with himself.

“Mike?” She asks gently. “We’re making mac and cheese.”

“I’m not hungry.” He says softly, and Abby can just tell something isn’t right.

“Are you okay?”

“I don’t feel well..”

“Oh…” she suspects this is a lie.

“I’m sorry. Tell them I said sorry.” Tears prick Mike’s eyes. He’s unsure why he’s like this, and why he can’t just admire your tattoo and love you and tell you how much you mean to him. But he can’t. He gets the words out. He wants to love you so badly but something in him demands to not let him be happy.

He lays on the bed and tries to stay quiet as he cries.

• • •

Hours later, you sit at the table anxiously, your hands tapping on the wood, a cold bowl of Mac and Cheese on the table. You decide to get up to clean up dinner, and just as you do, soft steps creep out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area.

Mike stands and stares at the cold dinner that he feels bad for rejecting. He should just tell you what’s bothering him. Instead, his gaze turns and looks at you, doing the dishes.

“You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“You didn’t seem well, and Abby needed to eat.”

This comment sparks a much larger fire in Mike, and he isn’t sure why he’s angered by how much you care about his sister, his world.

“You aren’t her mom, you don’t have any reason to make her dinner or put her to bed—”

“Yeah, Mike, well, You’re not really her dad.” You glare. “I’ve taken care of her for months, fed her, made sure she’s taken care of, I’ve picked her up from school, and now suddenly, you’ve decided I have no right to just care about her? Fuck you, if you don’t love me anymore, then don’t take it out on your sister, talk to me like a god damn grown up and stop acting like a child.” You spit, angrily turning back around to keep doing your dishes so that Mike doesn’t see your red face or your tears.

With your back turned, he can see the moth on your shoulder blade, and he aches to trace the lines of your tattoos, kissing the skin around it. But cotton fills his mouth every time he tries to sew the gap between you two.

And your words strike him. He knows why you might think he doesn’t love you anymore, but he does. He loves you deeply and finds himself enamored with you, and yet he can’t even compliment this tattoo that you have obviously put a ton of time, effort and money into.

“I’m sorry—” You start, but he cuts you off.

“I think we should give each other some space.” The words hit you like a ton of brick, and you’re ready to get on your hands and knees and beg him, beg him to not leave, beg him to forgive you (for what, you don’t know), beg him to touch you, beg him to want you.

“What..?”

“I just think I need some space.” He said softly, leaning against the kitchen doorway. You want to ask if he’s hungry, to kiss away all the sadness in the worry lines of his face.

You nod, bite your tongue. He wants to hold you and tell you he doesn’t mean it.

“I’ll sleep on the couch.” You mumble, sighing softly. You also plan to leave early before Mike gets up.

Mike steps towards you, maybe to apologize. You step past him to go get pajamas from your dresser, not letting him grasp onto you. You don’t want him to apologize now. You want him to sit in his regret and you want to sit in your anger.

As you attempt to fall asleep that night, you pray Abby didn’t hear your conversation with him.

Both of you try to drift to sleep and salt streams from your eyes and into your ears.

• • •

A few days pass. Your tattoo starts to heal, and you take the second skin off your shoulder and arm and begin the process of aftercare.

You and Mike exchanged a total of about thirty words over the next few days. Abby noticed your angst towards each other and tried to get the two of you to make up. She figured that Mike was being an idiot, and just needed to apologize.

She was right, but he didn’t want to admit that to his kid sister.

It’s hell. You have to pretend that you don’t want to beg for his forgiveness, but you know that neither of you are blameless. Your pride tells you not to be the first one to cave. His anxiety tells him that you hate him.

When he gets home one afternoon from work, you’re napping in bed. He knows the couch isn’t that comfortable and he’s sure you’re home because you’d mentioned to Abby that you weren’t feeling well. You probably didn’t expect to still be asleep when he got home.

But you’re wearing one of his shirts. He kisses your head and leaves a glass of water and cold medicine on the nightstand, before going to make himself busy somewhere else, as if not to disrupt your rest.

He takes one last glance at you before he leaves.

One night, he comes home from work late. You take it as an opportunity to take a hot shower after putting Abby to bed and taking a few minutes to sit in the bedroom that you missed while sleeping on the couch.

Besides, your bones ached from that uncomfortable couch while you were spoiled, used to Mike’s warm bed.

You barely hear the front door open as you continue your nightly routine. You need to apply lotion to your tattoo, to keep it moisturized as it heals. But you find yourself struggling to reach your shoulder.

Mike watches you from the doorway of the bedroom, biting his lip. The bags around his eyes have grown darker since your fight.

He takes off his boots first, and then strips his top down to an undershirt, then takes off his jeans. If you weren’t so busy, you’d acknowledge how handsome he looked in just his boxers and a gray tee shirt.

The bed dips behind you, as he sits behind you. You stop what you’re doing.

“Give me the lotion.” He says softly, and with a sigh of defeat, maybe even a bit of relief, you hand him the lotion. He squirts some lotion on his hands, then begins to rub it into your skin. You shudder at the contact, and he feels tears in his eyes again. He missed you. “I’m sorry I didn’t say I liked your tattoo. I love it.”

“I’m sorry I said you didn’t love me, and I’m sorry I said you weren’t Abby’s dad.”

“But I’m not—”

“But you are her parent.”

“So are you.”

A silence fills the room.

“What happened on Saturday?”

“I got anxious when I saw Abby and I’s birth flowers on you. Like how much I loved you was just engraved in your skin, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t mean to push you away, I was just terrified. Terrified that you’re going to leave. Terrified that I won’t be able to protect you.” His voice cracks at the end, and he leans his head against your shoulder that isn’t inked.

Your head turns to kiss his head.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know..” he says softly, but a part of him doesn’t believe it. You and Abby, you’re the only ones who have stayed, the only ones he’s been able to save. He doesn’t know who he is without the two of you. “I’m sorry, I was such a dick.”

“Yeah, but so was I.” You tell him.

“I love your tattoo. I love all of your tattoos. All of them. I love kissing them. I’m desperate for this one to heal so I can kiss this shoulder again.”

“Thank you for helping me with it. It itches like a son of a bitch.” You tell him, a weak smile on your face. Tears stain your shirt.

“Can we go back to normal now? I’ve missed you.”

“I miss you so much.” You turn and wrap your arms around him, the warmth radiating from his body as he holds you close. You wonder if either of you will ever be able to let yourselves be loved.

You hope to let each other try.

You kiss him, salty tears mixing, as you hold him close. He’s careful of your tattoo, not wanting to scratch or hurt you. He’s gentle in a way that betrays him. He desires you in this way that transcends want or need, something that is vital, as if it were breathing.

Yet his hands remain respectful. Gentle. You’re the one that adjusts your position to be over him, as you gently push him back against the bed, kissing him deeper.

He decides he will marry you someday. That maybe the idea of being with you for the rest of his life isn’t scary.

Not when you kiss him like that.

#mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #movie!mike #five nights at freddy's #fnaf movie #five nights at freddy's movie #abby schmidt #abby schmidt platonic #mike schmidt angst #hurt/comfort #josh hutcherson

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ddarker-dreams · 8 months

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mini love report — gojo satoru

relationship health diagnosis — 70%*

symptom one — permanent honeymoon phase

he's obsessed with you an (ab)normal amount and makes it everyone else's problem. satoru loves seeing how many compliments he can get in before you're swatting him away from embarrassment. he'll capture your wrist, smother your pulse in kisses, then continue his praise. it's not always suave either. he alternates between having decent game and coming off as cringe. you have no idea how he says half the things he does.

satoru gushes about you to everyone. poor ijichi, mortified higher-ups, the elderly lady sitting next to him on the train; no one is safe. his chest swells with pride every time he remembers that he managed to pull you. it doesn't matter if you're teenagers sharing your awkward first kiss or if you've been married for decades, he'll be singing your praises until the end of time.

symptom two — weirdly possessive

satoru isn't possessive in the traditional sense. when others encroach on you, what troubles him runs deeper than simple jealousy. his smile becomes strained and he physically inserts himself between you and the offending party. you're then whisked away, regardless of how rude the abrupt departure comes off. this isn't limited to instances where you're being flirted with outright.

it's actually amplified when the other person holds some unique position in your life that's exclusive to them. satoru prides himself on the fact no one knows you better than he does. so it's disconcerting when another person has access to information and memories entirely detached from him. he's overwhelmed with the urge to prove you belong to each other — no one can come close to the bond you share. this acrimony lingers even after the interaction ends.

gojo satoru is a greedy man. he might not be the type to insist you cover up if your outfit is revealing, but he does experience this antipathy toward people who fulfill a niche he can't.

symptom three — obnoxious

you deserve a reward for putting up with him honestly. he wasn't wrong when he described himself as having a terrible personality. while it's rarely malicious, he isn't the most considerate person when it comes to others. he'll speak what's on his mind without a second thought. zero filter. if you're around, he's a stunning 10% nicer so you'll chew him out less. the number could be higher but he finds that disciplinary side of you hot. this is a direct admission from him.

he likes your attention and will pursue it relentlessly. as he grows up, he slightly improves this habit. or, to be more specific, he hides it better. he feels he's way more interesting than whatever book or video game you're playing. shooing him off so you can get stuff done is a commonplace occurrence. on the upside, when trudging through chores, he helps with the passion of a thousand suns if it means having you all to himself sooner.

primary area of concern

satoru's seemingly infinite (heh) supply of pep often doubles as a shield to deflect uncomfortable emotions. he isn't one to linger on negative events, the pace in which he seemingly moves on is concerning. the innerworkings of his mind are shrouded in mystery for such an open individual. getting him to open up about his fears or past hurts is almost impossible. he won't dodge your inquiries outright, that'd prove too suspicious. he'll throw a few crumbs your way and hope that's enough to satiate your worry.

the word vulnerability isn't in his vocabulary. this isn't owed to a lack of trust on his part — if anything, the care he holds for you makes it tempting at times. however, taking that first step toward opening up is daunting. you'll have to be patient with him. if it doesn't pertain to your relationship, it's unlikely he'll have an extensive heart-to-heart about the specters haunting his mind. rather, those aforementioned crumbs become more substantial. a late-night conversation will unexpectedly veer toward a sensitive subject.

it'll be fleeting. you don't have to shower him with platitudes, simply grab his hand and squeeze. it's an unspoken message that he isn't as alone as he sometimes feels.

prognosis

gojo satoru can be too blunt, he struggles with emotional intimacy, and he's shameless in getting what he wants from you. he's a mess but he's your mess. you don't revere him like a god among men, you make him feel human. you're his best friend, his soulmate (he keeps the latter description to himself, it's one of the few sentiments that embarrasses him). he'd do absolutely anything for your sake. when you enter the room, it's like everyone else ceases to exist. he brightens up and chases after any laugh, smile, or flustered expression he can get.

he believes meeting you altered the balance of the world more than his own birth.

*the universe has tried (and failed) to wrench you apart (0-20) your friends are praying that you'll break up (21-40) 'well it could/has be worse' bargaining mindset (41-60) a lil messiness as a treat (61-80) pure and wholesome (81-10)

#i wrote this with golden girl in mind but it isn't exclusive to the story .#gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #gojo brainrot #mini love reports #valentines 2024 event

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purpleskiesupwards · 15 days

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CHARACTER POVs - DISTINCT DESCRIPTION VOICE THROUGH ACTIONS

Another writing tip - FLAVOR IN YOUR WRITING

Okay, so I am a growing writer. I am not perfect. But I felt like sharing something because I had a discussion about it with my younger cousin who was into journaling and now wants to venture into writing fiction. (It is my way of understanding things for myself, you can find it useless or useful, depending on if you see things in a similar way as me or not ...therefore, your opinion can differ)

So...when I started writing 12 years ago, at the age of twelve, I struggled with many things...especially how to make my multiple characters' POV sound distinct. Because everyone started to sound very similar in my work, I hated it!

⌢୨୧⌢

Took me years of writing and reading to improve myself, but if one thing I can clearly remember...it is this:

Characters NEED a sketch/mental map/flowchart - whatever you call it. I know some people can do a good job by winging it, but it is essential, in my humble opinion.

When I didn't do this, all my characters sounded the same, except on the parts where I was doing their monologues or introspection narration. Like, my characters didn't have their distinct action to back them, making them sound or appear different. Because even I was unaware of how they'd act or stand or move etc.

What do I mean by this?

Write your character's name and simply write whatever their traits would be around them (whatever form, formally structured or not, doesn't matter) And not just traits, just random Q/As for the characters too like would my characters like blue color or orange color, love to eat sweets or spicy, be a fan of Jimin or Jungkook, lol.

With these traits, how do I make my POVs sound distinct?

Well...Let's say one of the characters is Adam and the other is Ella.

Adam's character is calmer, sensible, pacifist etc. Ella's character is chaotic, impulsive, angry etc.

Now, if the scenario is 'someone has died', their reactions would be completely different and you can make them sound distinct easily. However, the struggle usually occurs in random settings/scenarios.

The scenario is, 'My character is watching a sunrise'. All you need here is a simple introspection of character.

Adam is standing by the window, staring outside at the fluttering beams of sunlight peaking through the dark drape. Adam is a calmer person, sensible and generally peaceful with no extreme reactions, so would he just keep on staring with no reaction or would he lean his head to the window frame and take a deep breath while squeezing his eyes shut to meet the sun in its full glory. Which one sounds in-character for Adam? I think he'd try to relish in the awakening of nature by calming himself down, taking his time with the view, thinking about the memories he shared with let's say his friends one time during the hike witnessing an astonishing sunrise emerging above the peak of mountains while BEING IN THE SCENE OF WATCHING A SUNRISE.

Ella is standing by the window, staring outside at the sunrise. Ella is a chaotic person, impulsive and angry at times, overall a person with a shorter attention span, but wouldn't mind having her coffee while staring outside the window. So...would she just stare outside and admire the popping colours in the sky or scroll through her phone while sipping her coffee and occasionally looking outside to see the warm light bathing the horizon. She'd groan at the low-charge indicator and slam the coffee mug on the window sill in irritation. Which one sounds in-character for her, I think she'd not be actively attentive to the sunrise, she'd be grunting about the low charge or her coffee being too sweet while BEING IN THE SCENE OF WATCHING A SUNRISE.

You see, we can't write distinct-sounding descriptions or character monologues or transitioning scenes or opening scenes or whatever, WITHOUT KNOWING "WHO" YOUR CHARACTER IS.

If we didn't know how Adam and Ella are, the scene could have turned out simply with Adam watching the sky and admiring it or being sentimental with his internal monologue and Ella watching the same sun and monologuing about how pissed she is at something.

On the surface level, you can say that one of them is being sentimental and the other is angry — they will sound different. They will, but there will be no 'action' making them seem distinct, highlighting their personality in more than just a 'telling' manner. The good old rule of 'show don't tell' applies here.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── ♡ ─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

In short, it is simply about KYC - Know your characters, because otherwise, you are writing every person as Adam or Ella or XYZ.

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aviiarie · 2 months

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THE MIST HASHIRA'S TSUGUKO — platonic muichiro & reader !

synopsis. what is the mist hashira like with a tsuguko? warnings. slight spoilers for muichiro's backstory. kny-typical warnings (violence, death, etc.) notes. STRICTLY PLATONIC. demon slayer!reader. reader uses mist breathing. gn!reader. they/them used. fluff. 1.2k words. wrote this impulsively instead of studying :3

kyojuro ver.

in all honesty, muichiro never planned on taking on a tsuguko. he didn't care too much about finding a successor, and even if he did, there wasn't a single demon slayer in the corps who had what it took to be the next mist hashira. they were all too cowardly, too brash, too loud, or too timid. mist breathing was an art form, and the demon slayers were messy toddlers playing with finger paints. none of them caught his eye.

well. except for one.

he was walking in step with shinobu, on their way to a hashira when the sound of fighting interrupted his cloud-watching. he glanced away for a moment to locate the source of the sound, seeing a lithe figure hacking and slashing across a training dummy with strikes of—was that mist breathing?

this was immediately followed by pestering a thoroughly uninterested shinobu with endless questions—who is that demon slayer? have i met them before? how long have they been here?—until he inevitably forgot all about them. shinobu, however remembered.

she was tending to one of their injuries when she casually mentioned muichiro's sudden interest in their mist breathing.

“tokito seemed impressed with your skills, when he saw you. truthfully, there aren’t many mist breathing users in the corps as of late, which is why we weren’t able to find you a teacher. it seems you’ve been learning plenty on your own, however. who knows, maybe you might end up as his tsuguko!”

the words were an off-handed joke, but they took them seriously nonetheless. all of the demon slayers knew that the mist hashira didn't have or want a tsuguko, but [name] needed a teacher and well... they might as well try, even if it's in vain.

when muichiro got the application, he was puzzled. for starters, he had no memory of who this random demon slayer was, or why they wanted him to be their mentor. a quick refresher from mitsuri—who had been told the entire story over tea with shinobu, and was reading over his shoulder when he got the letter—and he learnt that they were not only a mist breathing user, but one of the most talented demon slayers in the corps.

it didn't take him long to come to his conclusion. most of the demon slayer corps may be useless, but who was he to deny one of the few talented demon slayers the chance to improve upon their skills?

his fellow hashira were surprised by his choice, but he just shrugged away their questions.

“if they're useless, i'll just give up on them. simple as that.”

training with muichiro is... intense. he has very high expectations of his student, which is one of the reasons few demon slayers even consider him as a mentor. they need to be agile enough to dodge a flurry of his attacks, quick enough to land a hit on him, and strong enough to cut through stone.

but to his surprise, they were quick to meet his expectations. in addition, their control over mist breathing was remarkably powerful, even if it paled in comparison to his own. most of their lessons turned from standard swordsmanship—of which they had already underwent plenty of training—to teaching them different techniques to master their skills.

the first time they trained together, he used wooden training swords. every instance after that, he insisted they used their own weapons instead.

“why would we bother with training swords? do you plan on beheading demons with these flimsy things?”

for the first few weeks, he continuously forgot that he even had a tsuguko. he wouldn't show up to their scheduled practices, leaving them waiting for hours, and were met with a blank stare when they finally tracked him down.

once they started training regularly though, they slowly began to cement themself in his memory. he would even make a point to jot down notes in a small journal to keep track of what he thought was important enough to remember about them.

although, much of what he deemed 'important' was rather trivial. some of his notes include: [name] is my tsugoku. they are allergic to [food]. their favourite colour is [colour]. they don't like it when i am late, even if they don't get angry at me. bring them a paper airplane the next time we meet.

how he treats them overall would differ depending on their age. if they were about the same age as him, or even younger, he would have a deep desire to protect them stirring in his gut. he can't quite narrow down the part of him that aches to keep them safe, but when he looks at them he sees a mirror of himself, young and scared and needing someone to shelter them from harm.

god forbid anyone try to give them a hard time for any reason. human or demon, that is his tsuguko and he'll be damned if he let anything happen to them.

on the opposite side of the spectrum, if they happened to be older than him... he would find it endlessly amusing. they try to pull the 'i'm literally older than you' card? well too bad, he's got the 'and yet you're the only one of us who isn't a hashira' card.

he would honestly treat them like an older sibling, if unconsciously. even if he's technically their mentor, he holds a great deal of respect towards them for their strength and bravery, and would look up to them a lot. definitely would try to impress them with his mist breathing.

no matter their age, he is very proud of them. when they go on their first solo mission after becoming his tsuguko and return victorious, he brags to anyone that will listen. someone try to talk about their own mission? he's cutting in with-

“but did you hear about [name]? they actually defeated a demon twice the strength of that one.”

but after muichiro regains his memories... oh boy.

i think they would be the first person he seeks out after he returns from the swordsmith village. he would make a beeline for their room, ignoring everyone else in his path. they're sitting on their bed and startle as he enters, but he just collapses on top of their sheets beside them. no amount of questioning earns them anything more than a mumble as a response. it's clear he's upset, but without knowing why, there is little they can do.

eventually they settle with cautiously pulling him into a hug, and can feel the tension leak out of his body as he melts into the embrace. no words are spoken, but it doesn't take long for him to start to cry.

he mumbles the entire story with his face buried in the front of their clothes, recounting the memories of his past that had returned to him mid-battle. he describes his brother, his parents, his home that is long gone.

even through his tears, they don't let him go, listening while tracing soothing circles across his back.

it's then that he realizes it: he might have lost everyone he loved, but that doesn't mean he doesn't still have a family, of sorts.

even if he never planned on taking on a tsuguko, muichiro is happy with the one he ended up with. and though he isn't the most conventional mentor, they are more than happy with him too.

#★ — avie's writing.#if there are mistakes or this is ooc blame it on the fact that it’s midnight #kny x reader #platonic kny x reader #demon slayer x reader #platonic demon slayer x reader #kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic kimetsu no yaiba x reader #platonic muichiro x reader #muichiro x reader #platonic x reader

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night-daily · 1 year

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Are friends supposed to kiss on the lips? | Zuko x fem! reader

summary: Sokka's plans are the best.

warnings: none.

Has been two days since Zuko joined the team avatar at the western air temple. The things between you two were tense and the rest of your friends were growing tired of it but Sokka, as the genius he is, came up with a plan.

“Are you sure this will work?” Katara asked his brother. “Well, what's the worst that can happen?”

His plan was simple, Aang will lock the two of you in a room of the temple which can be only opened by him, Katara will tell you that Toph is waiting for you there and Sokka will just drag Zuko, in his mind, you two will become friends or at least will stop barking to each other.

You were training alone in the forest, and controlling the water wasn't hard but you wanna do it perfectly, it has become an obsession. You were tired of being beaten by the fire nation. By Azula.

“If you keep training just your element without moving you'll never improve.” Only hearing his voice made your heart race. “Are you offering to be my target then?” You didn't turn to face him. “More like training with you” The water on your hands fell to the ground. “You don't have to act surprised, like I told you before, I've changed, I'm good now.” He walked closer stopping in front of you. You watched his face, he wasn't lying. “I won't go easy on you.” That was your only response. “I wouldn't expect less.” He smirked blowing fire to you taking you by surprise “Hey! I wasn't ready!” You exclaimed stepping aside to avoid the fire. “The enemy won't give you a warning, you know?” This made you lose your temper, seeing the fire coming out of him remember all the times you have suffered because of it and not only you but your friends and family too. Your fists clenched.

You started turning the water into ice, trying to hurt him it wasn't a training anymore, he sensed your change of mood “Stop!” He thought you would stop but you didn't and you throw him hard on the ground. He hissed in pain and finally, you realized what you have done “Zuko!” You rushed towards him worried. His eyes were closed and he was breathing slowly. You grabbed his face putting his head over your legs. “Please, wake up” You were almost tearing up, this was your fault. “I can’t believe you fall for something so stupid” He was smirking again and opened his eyes just to see you worried. “You're an idiot I thought I hurt you” You push his head out of your legs. He groaned at the sudden movement “Ouch”

You sit away from him on the grass, hugging yourself tighter. You looked so fragile, so broken. Zuko felt his heart ache to see you. “Why are you training so hard?” He was curious because as far as he know you've never liked fighting but what changed? He knows you're in the middle of the war but that never made you be like this, so full of anger.

You didn't dare to look at him. “I'm tired of running away from the fire nation” even your voice sounded broken. For a moment he was confused but then he knew what you meant. Zuko stood up from his place and knee in front of you “look at me” you hesitated and then your eyes were looking at his “When Azula tried to attack you that day, I was afraid, you've been kind to me since the first moment even when you knew it who I was, you made your way through my heart and my mind” your faces were inches apart “I'm always going to come between you and anything that could hurt you, even if it's my sister” and then he leaves you there, alone with your thoughts and your heart beating fast.

what just happened? Did he likes you as you like hi-

“Hey” Katara's voice made you jump on your place “Toph is waiting for you” Toph? Did you forget you were going to do something with Toph? “Let's get going!” Her good humor was contagious so you started walking with her by your side, chatting about your memories together. You were walking for ten minutes until you arrived at the temple, you stopped in front of a room, and you saw Zuko sitting there on a chair, you turned to ask what was going on before Katara push you in there and you heard the door closing behind you. You and Zuko hurried up to the door trying to open it “This door can only be opened by Aang” Sokka explained “And we're not letting you out until you are friends”

Then the room was silent. None of you said or did anything for a few seconds. “Me too” your voice echoed. Zuko looked up to you, confused. “I- I'll always protect you, Zuko” hearing his name coming out of your mouth was like a sweet melody and it was enough to made him blush. He suddenly grabbed you by your wrist and pulls you closer to him. His eyes were looking at your lips making you nervous “ Can I?” He whispered. Instead of responding, you crashed your lips on his, his hands were now on your waist with closed eyes, you two have been waiting too much for this, to be together. Finally, you separated your lips to breathe, but still, you two were closer “Are friends supposed to kiss on the lips?” you asked with an amusing smile. Zuko laughed placing a kiss on your forehead “I hope not”

#atla #atla zuko #atla fanfic #atla fic #prince zuko #zuko #zuko x reader #zuko x fem! reader #zuko x y/n #zuko x you #avatar: the last airbender

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stayhealthyweekly · 2 years

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I Forgot!! It Skipped My Mind!! Has this happen to you recently?

Memory loss: 7 tips to improve your memory Try these simple ways to improve your memory. Can’t find your car keys? Forget your grocery list? Can’t remember the name of the personal trainer you liked at the gym? You’re not alone. Everyone forgets things occasionally. Still, memory loss is nothing to take lightly. Although there are no guarantees when it comes to preventing memory loss or…

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#Forgetting & memory #I forgot #Memory loss #memory loss disease #memory loss test #simple ways to improve your memory.#sudden memory loss #sudden memory loss for an hour #types of memory loss #What are the first signs of memory loss?#What are the three types of memory loss?#what causes memory loss #What is causing my loss of memory?#When should I be concerned about forgetfulness?#Why do we forget

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cherry-bomb-00 · 5 months

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The brothers with a MC who is forgetful and distracted (Older brothers) part 1

I as a person, I am forgetful and something distracted, and I know that I am not the only one, so how the brothers can deal with a MC so forgetful and distracted?

Lucifer

He is not going to lie to you, it was difficult to load you with things, since you always forgot, even if they are simple or sometimes you do not pay attention because you distract yourself with anything.

Although he cannot deny that he is tender every time you tilted your head when he is confused or you do not remember something, or the expressions you do when you forget something and remember him later.

He had to create a schedule and hang it to your wall, also make a board of reminders where important things are written that you should do or remember, such as tasks, appoinments, when it is your turn to cook, etc.

Protective, since you are so distracted, that he does not want you to fall or hurt yourself for not being attentive to your surroundings. He sometimes clicks his fingers to get your attention when you both are talking.

Mammon

Knowing how forgetful you are, he began to score and have reminders of all your important things in his D.D.D (also of quotes), if you forget something, he will always review his D.D.D to help you remember what you need.

He is also someone distracted, but not as much as you, so he sees that you distract, he uses his keys, to make noise to get your attention again, even so, he thinks is very adorable your expression when you are distracted, As your eyes shine, although he will not admit it so easily.

Although since the two are as distracted, it is likely that he also distracted the same thing that distracted you, then they can have a good time seeing how a bird is standing in a tree branch.

Mammon has tried to help you have a better memory, maybe as small games that he invented, he has seen your progress, you are improving, and he is proud of you. -Obviously you were going to improve, in the end it is the great Mammon who is helping you, human.-

Leviathan

Levi felt bad that you will always forget to hang out with him, but then discovered that you really did not do it with bad intention, that you were really very forgetful, so he knows that, I try to help you, how to be reminding you of important things , such as duties, tasks, appoitments, etc. or use techniques to remember, such as relating things to learn more easily.

He speaks a lot when it comes to something you like, so it happens a lot that you distract you, Levi seeing that, I think it was boring you or that you were not interested what he told you, but you tell him that it is not so , that only that you are very forgetful, he understood it, so he looks for other ways to maintain your attention, such as seeing his hands or using objects that have what they are talking about.

That last detail likes it, since he can see how your eyes shine and how you smile, he thinks the most beautiful smile he has seen, with that thinking that makes him blush.

He has also downloaded memory games to play together and thus improve your memory little by little so that you are not so forgetful, although sometimes he worries that you really have amnesia.

See you all soon :)

#obey me shall we date #obey me brothers #obey me hcs #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obeyme mc #obeymecontets #obeymeolderbrothers #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me

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villadiodatis · 1 year

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Fantasy High Junior Year: level 10

As psyched as I am for the jokes and character moments we'll get with FHJY, I am a mechanics nerd at heart, so! Here is a preview of what awaits the Bad Kids when they hit Level 10. This assumes no one multiclasses into a new class.

Adaine

Adaine's level up is relatively simple: as a level 10 Divination wizard, she gets an ability called The Third Eye. Once per long rest, she can use her action to gain darkvision (not useful, since she already has it as an elf), see into the Ethereal Plane, read any language, or see invisible creatures/objects within 10 feet. This lasts until she is incapacitated or takes a short/long rest.

She will also learn an additional cantrip and get another 5th level spell slot, and she can add two new wizard spells of level 1-5 to her spellbook.

Fabian

Fabian could hit level 7 in fighter or level 4 in bard. At level 7, Battlemaster Fighters get an additional maneuver and superiority die, plus a feature called Know Your Enemy, which allows him to determine if other creatures he interacts with outside of combat are his equal, superior, or inferior in terms of ability scores, AC, level, and HP.

If he takes another level in bard (remember, he dances now!), he'll get a new cantrip, another 2nd-level spell slot, a new 1st or 2nd level spell, and an ability score improvement or feat. There are a million directions he could go with an ASI or feat, so I won't speculate here.

Fig

Fig will be either level 9 in bard or level 2 in warlock. As a 9th-level bard, she gets an additional 4th level spell slot, her Song of Rest goes from a d6 to a d8, and the big one: she gets a 5th-level spell slot. There are a few options here, but some that I think Emily could be absolutely devastating with are Dominate Person, Geas, Mislead, Scrying, Seeming, or one that I've seen make a lot of trouble in other actual plays, Modify Memory.

If she takes another level in warlock, she gets an additional warlock (1st-level) spell slot, another 1st-level warlock spell, and two Eldritch Invocations. There are also some that would be incredible for Fig--some that do things like strengthen her Eldritch Blast, but particularly Mask of Many Faces, which lets her cast Disguise Self without using a spell slot, or Misty Visions, which lets her cast Silent Image without using a spell slot. Fig may be getting more comfortable being herself, but she's still gonna find a way to cause trouble.

Gorgug

Gorgug could hit level 9 in barbarian or level 2 in artificer. If he goes with barbarian, he gains Brutal Critical, which means he gets to roll an extra damage die (d12 with his Heavy Metal Axe) whenever he scores a critical hit. Additionally, his Rage Damage bonus increases to +3.

If he goes with artificer, things get more complicated, and very fun. Level 2 artificers get Infuse Item--basically, he can create magic items. He'll be able to pick 4 infusions off of the table, and can have 2 infused items at a time. Some options that catch my eye: Enhanced Arcane Focus, Enhanced Defense or Weapon, Homunculus Servant, or Replicate Magic Item, which would let him make items like a bag of holding or rope of climbing.

Kristen

In addition to a second 5th level spell slot and a new cantrip, Kristen Applebees will get access to an incredibly exciting feature that I would bet money on Ally using in an insane, perfect story moment: Divine Intervention. By rolling a d100 and getting your cleric level or lower (so 1-10 for Kristen, a 10% chance) (D20 has done this as hitting a 19 or 20 on a d20), Kristen can ask Cassandra to intervene on her behalf in a way that Brennan decides. If you've seen The Seven, you may remember Ostentatia's successful Divine Intervention, when Logren shattered the aspect of fire, put a vein of mithral under Elmville, and ended Charity Blythe's Greater Invisibility. I am very eager to see what happens with it.

Riz

Riz's next level is very simple, but brings a lot of options. At level 10, rogues get an ability score improvement or feat. There are a lot of useful feats for rogues, and ASIs are always helpful, so frankly I won't even begin to speculate.

And of course, they may go in an entirely new direction, whether with homebrew, multiclass, or something I haven't thought of! I'm so excited to see where this goes, and I can't wait to see where the players bring these characters.

#d20 #dimension20 #dimension 20 #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #fhjy #fig faeth #adaine abernant #kristen applebees #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #please let me know if i've gotten anything wrong here or if you have mechanics thoughts!!#zoe does stuff #i'll probably do another one of these when it airs for future levels cause this was. very fun #shoutout to everyone who does these for critical role

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cloudysleepingzone · 7 months

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Heya^^ could we possibly get some romantic hcs about dazai, atsushi, and possibly fyodor with a artist s/o, they sometimes doodle on unimportant papers when the meetings are way too boring for them , and sometimes when they have free time they draw their lover in their sketchbook, maybe a painting or two of their lover <3 anyways love your writing and don't forget to hydrate! Have a wonderful day or night!!

BSD with an Artist S/O

Decided to add Chuuya and Tecchou due to a very similar request!

Contents : Dazai, Atsushi, Fyodor, Chuuya and Tecchou x Reader (separate), gender neutral reader (they/them used), fluff, suggestive for Dazai's part and sorta Tecchuu? Not really. Pet Names.

Dazai Osamu

Doesn't matter what your drawing, he's watching.

Can you blame him though? He just loves watching his lover just doing something they enjoy!

If you draw him he will start acting like a dramatic prince for a solid 10 minutes.

"(Name), draw me like one of your French girls~"

You sit quietly at your desk, the surface covered with your sketchbook and a handful of pencils and pens. "Belllaaa~!" Though your peace is interrupted by your loving boyfriend trying to get out of doing his job again. "What are you drawing beautiful?" He leans over you, his arms wrapping around you from behind as he props his chin on your shoulder. The sketchbook page had small doodles of the two of you, mostly just small cute doodles of holding hands, Dazai tilts his head slight to the side, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck. "You know, if you need any ideas you could always draw us with less clothes~"

Atsushi Nakajima

Our sweet boy

He's so supportive of your work he loves seeing the look on your face when you make something your proud of

You draw him? Oh boy...he can't even form words

"You're getting even better sweetheart, you keep improving!"

Your a mess, your finger tips covered in different shades of blue and grey, just like the tip of your paintbrush. Atsushi was behind the canvas, laying comfortably on your shared bed with a soft smile on his lips. "Am I doing alright? I'm not moving too much?" He was doing an amazing job. A perfect job. "Your doing good sweetheart, I'm almost done". You've drawn him from memory plenty of times before, but it feels so much more romantic with him right in front of you. "You look really pretty when your focused..." He mumbles under his breath, even if your the one painting him, he's the one doing the most admiring <3

Fyodor Dostoevsky

To a non familiar eye he seems completely uninterested or even annoyed at your interests. But that's far from true

He adores your work though he sucks at showing it

Got a piece you're really proud of? Yep he's putting it in a fancy frame

You? Drawing him? Aren't you just a sweetheart...

It was already late at night, the curtains had been drawn and you were currently in the shower. Meanwhile your husband Fyodor was already dressed in something more comfortable and was waiting for his dear. Fyodors finger tips gently run over the cover of your current sketch book, which laid on top of a desk in your shared bedroom. He picks up the sketchbook, flipping through the pages slowly before a certain page catches his eye, a page seemingly dedicated to just him. His normally cold and hard gaze softens a bit at the sight, some being full line art and color and others being simple messy doodles. His admiring is interrupted by the sound of the bathroom door opening. "Sweetheart what are you doing?". Your husband gently closes your sketchbook, setting it down onto the expensive hard work surface. "Just admiring your work my dear..."

Chuuya Nakahara

New art supplies? He's buying it. You want a new set of expensive as hell paint brushes? Pfft, pocket change.

If you even mention getting into a new form of art he's already handing you his credit card without another question.

"It looks pretty already doll, make sure to show me when it's done yea?"

Like Fyodor, he puts his favorite pieces in fancy frames <3

You walk into Chuuya's at home office, not bothering to knock (not like he minds) "Chuuya, I finished that painting you wanted to see!" He slowly turns his chair around, a small smirk on his face, completely ignoring his task of sorting through files for now. "Let me see it babe". You turn the canvas around, showing him your paintwork you've spent a few weeks on. He stand from his seat, walking up to you and placing a gloved hand on your cheek, planting a loving kiss on the other. "It looks beautiful sweetheart, just like you. I'll be hanging it up." Chuuya had already started a small selection of your art that was displayed in fancy gold and silver frames over a fireplace, in the style as if they were million dollar paintings. To him they may as well be, to him your art is priceless. Your priceless.

Tecchou Suehiro

You could make something weird and he'll like it

He will just silently watch you draw whatever, doesn't matter what.

"That looks good sweetheart"

Drawing him? God I don't know if his heart can take something so sweet!

Here you are, sitting on your boyfriend's back while he does sit ups. It was actually pretty normal at this point. The only sounds in the room was the huffs coming from Tecchuu throat and the sounds of pencil scratching against paper. "Hm...maybe I should draw you like this, it would be pretty good anatomy practice" you quickly sketch up some messy line art you can fix later, shifting slightly to show Tecchuu. "Huff Looks good" Despite the slight strain in his muscles he's able to respond pretty easily. I get up from your seat on his back, letting him get up with a groan before stretching his arms. Moving your pencil back to the paper, you continue to look from your boyfriend to the paper back and forth. "This is a bit better" you your sketch book around, it was just a simple sketch of his muscular figure but it was like fine art in his eyes. "You've been improving a lot haven't you?"

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1eoness · 1 year

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CHANGE.

cw: re4remake leon... just a lil more rude than usual. covers very sensitive topics: theft and surrogate prostitution (not mentioned), SUPERRR NOT CANON.

nsfw cw: DUBCON i think? (always practice safe and consensual sex) (slight-enemy smut idfk) dom!re4remake leon kennedy x sub! fem/afab-reader. size kink, creampie?? spit kink?? squirting?? mild degradation, pet names, feminine terms... straight up porn tbh i dont even know BRUHH WTFI DONT EVEN KNOW THE THINGS I WRITE

[to clarify, i am a minor (17). anyone <17 and anyone >17 uncomfortable with interacting pls dni]

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵

synopsis :

your job is simple. as long as you exploit and delude the men at the top of the social pyramid, ada sponsored you with her safety and training. though, your naivete made it easy for ada to convince you that you weren't just some dirty pawn stationed in a particular estate—which happens to be leon's next mission area.

when he encounters you to perform your arrest, leon prays to any god up there that he has the patience not to mess you over for turning into the person you've become today.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

"— just listen to me, damn it!" leon scolded as he tugged onto the metal that strung your cuffed wrists together, cutting your retorts off with your abrupt grit of pain. your insistence of denying his chances without hearing him out made you more irritable than you already were. "you have no idea what you're carrying. you're gonna start a fucking epidemic if you take that anywhere near ada, you understand?"

it was understandable. you were carrying a formula. some unethical, potent 'opium' derived from a variant of the t-virus. freshly baked by some ex-umbrella geeks, it was marketed to be an effective drug, planned to be distributed to some sort of paramilitary in spain to modify their strength to inexplicable heights (which was proved to be false, yet some arrogant virologists insisted it had potential, so unethical 'scientists' wanted to get their hands on improving it). that's all you know about it, anyway.

leon's true nature behind his words rooted from the fact that he was fucking worried for you and it's not only because of the position that ada put you in right now. that enigmatic woman, treating you like some guinea pig and you couldn't even see it. it surprised leon that you were even alive.

leon knew you way before ada discovered you in that dark junction, before you dropped out of police academy without a word and went back to your old ways of 'getting through life'.

leon was your role model. he was the first one to make friends with you while you stood 'incompetent' in that academy.

but people dug their eyes in you because of your history. all it takes is a few facebook searches and some names for the other fellow cadets to define you using your past. and when the awareness rose to leon, he was the first one to defend you.

the eidetic memory of you; you were sat on a hall bench with his jacket hung loosely over your dropping shoulders, gripping an unopened water bottle that turned lukewarm. your fingers felt numb from the tremors of anxiety, and the broodingly saddened look in your eyes.

he was knelt in front of his dear friend, trying to reassure you that people can change, and you were already making those efforts. his thumbs held your palms when with a serious tone, encouraged you into promising him that you will never change; because you are a sweet girl and you never deserved to be shamed for something you thought was your survival. within this promise, he also promised you that as long as you kept your self-faith you will never go back to what you hated being. you should've seen how genuine his smile look when you chuckled sheepishly, the flush on your cheeks earning a double reasoning.

and now, it pained him more to realize that he regrets not making another promise, one he held back from saying that night. don't leave him.

a very selfish, unwarranted yet passionate part of him believes that you'd been so cruel to him, abandoning him like that. and now you want to leave again?

now you're being reprimanded by the cop who you looked at like he was a hero.

where was the bright cadet in those eyes, the one that looked up to him?

and it was just great of you to articulate further on how much he underestimated your stubbornness."i'm slowing you down. if it's not me (who will escort the sample), it's gonna be ada. you thought she was a one-man job? that you can somehow negotiate with her because you guys fucked once? my god, have you ever changed?-" out of being so naive? but the words don't follow because he knows you were going to say it.

leon's hand slid from your back to grip harshly at the back collar of your shirt, lifting your chest up from the table abruptly. he locked eyes with you, hidden tension bubbling the air like odorless toxins. he scoffs, and his low voice turned deliberate as he tried to spell the irony out for you. "ada. doesn't. work with people. she uses them, and you're not some 'special exception'."

and it's true, he knows it all too well..

"she uses... people like you." you were quick to correct him indignantly with a struggling breath. leon knew nothing about you and ada. ada was like a big sister to you. she taught you what you couldn't learn at police academy. she understood where you came from, and she knows the lowest moments in your life. but leon knew all of that too, didn't he?

"you know why?"

he scoffs. "enlighten me." and there was a subtle increase of tightness in his grip, eyes narrowing down at your bent-over body in anticipation.

"'cause you're a fuck up, kennedy."

upon hearing your quips, he thought maybe he should add a small noise of pain to it, because he flushed you further against the surface with a force that hinted irritation. he had enough of this pointless hissing. "listen, y'little bitch..." he gruffed with the mere frustration surging his voice. he's probably never addressed a woman like that, but oh, how people can shift within the span of their emotion. "you have the sample, now tell me where it is. and if you have it, then you know what to do."

leon wasn't confident that you had the item on you, knowing ada was most likely using you as a decoy. he didn't want to hurt you. even if you've looked like you've changed; to him, you haven't..

of course you were holding the "formula", leon was just dumb enough to think you actually had it on you. your eyes fluttered before you laughed emptily in heavy breaths, peeking over your shoulder whilst he did not let up on you. your torso was starting to fucking hurt. but so was your pride. "then come get it, rookie." you baited.

you ignited an internal burn he didn't even know he had. one that reached the peak of its abrasion.

"..fuck you." he growled inaudibly before you yelped, feet off the ground. and fuck ada, too.

‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ ♡ ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿

if you were gonna keep acting like a brat, he was going to fuck you like one.

his hand came behind your head, locking your hair in a tight grip while you felt his tongue glide against yours in a messy kiss. an overwhelming amount of affectionate frustration surged as he propped you up firmer on that desk. he ate your whines as he tired your damp mouth out, the rising feeling of grudge-rooted sexual frustration pining somewhere inside him hotly.

"why do you hate me so much, mmm?" he gasped quietly for a breath, his hand letting go of your hair and holding both sides of your hips, hastily pulling your pants up mid-thigh. he needed to be inside you, he just needed it so bad..

"cause you're .. hhah.. y-you've become too cocky f'your own good, kennedy-" leon scoffs at the sight of you drooled up with the trails of mixed saliva. you're sure that's not you? you could've fooled him, you were fucking sopping—trails of your essence sticking to your underwear. it made him moan low in desperation. he wanted to lick it all up. "is that right.." he muttered with utter lack of amusement as his cold thumb glided over your fluids absentmindedly, spreading one fold apart slightly to get a better look. his eyes soften, breath hitching knowing it's gonna feel so good inside you.

"d-definitely too cocky!-" you insisted with a contrast whine that emitted from your sweet voice, expecting him to start off with letting you adjust to his tip first. but you're hopeless for thinking leon would ever go soft on you just because you only remember the "naive" version of him years ago. people change, right?

you were suddenly squirming when you felt him fill and thrust into you thickly, humbling your little cunny as it pulsated. dumb little bunny, leon thinks to himself, watching you start to fluster and retort weakly beneath him with your ankles on his shoulders.

his hand comes up to your head, smacking your cheek swiftly. "shut up. shut the fuck up." he growls, eyes narrowing mildly, holding your cheeks with one hand as he pried your little mouth open. his thoughts were so guiltily dirty, wondering how cute your throat would look filled with his cock. he'll have to try another time, though, wouldn't he? for now his ring and middle finger deliberately slide into your tongue, savoring the minor 'hhnnn' that lolled out of your sticky tongue as your eyes peered up at him glassily.

the words 'fuck me' were written all over your eyes when his gaze locks down to yours. and could he resist such a pretty baby?- why were you so pretty?

it's a shame that you made so much effort to treat him indifferently, calling him by his last name and all...

your vision felt cloudy given that you were full of leon. but you catch glimpse of the way he smirks at himself before he leans down much closer to your face, folding your legs over and not giving a fuck if it hurts. the simple shift in angle had you crying out as his tip grazed over the right spots.

he spits a string of saliva down into your forced-open mouth, hoping it would furtherly aid in getting you to shut up over something so trivial. "so fucking dirty..." his fingers gently traced your bottom lip while he whispers with mock-disgust, yet it's laced with affection- a twisted pair of feelings that has him needing you at incalculable rates.

his hands come down to the exposed flesh of your hips, fingers dipping into your skin as he holds you still on his girth. it felt even better when you could feel his bulging size rub up inside you hastily— the way he was fucking you fervently and not letting you get away. you're never fucking leaving his sight, or his mind.

"h-how's this for.. uhh-..nngh.. being cocky? huh?" he groaned roughly after stammering with the embers of his frustration. leon's frustrated that he can't speak without stammering, so he takes it out on you with punishing thrusts that have you sobbing louder, mending his ego by ruining yours. he's stripping your pride away with each push into your sweet spots.

you gave in, vulnerable as you started to blabber from the way you were getting your breath knocked up. "hnggghh.... ahh!-.. l-leon!~ n-not there!-"

"there it is.." he mutters to himself sweetly mid-fucking-you-full. you're finally talking to him properly, how cute.. "more, baby?" he taunts with a struggling moan but he doesn't let you react; the only reaction he wants is you reducing beneath him, proving it by his fingers bruising your skin as he rammed into you in a desperate pace. "ngghh uhh.. fuck-" he whines loudly, your hole squelching uncontrollably as he fucks the juices out of you with every sweet drag of his sensitive shaft.

you turn him so soft he hates you for it.. he has such a soft spot for you, doesn't he?

"fuuck, this pussy's.. so good.." his eyes were half-lidded, moaning adorably before whining about the fact that he's about to spill a load inside you. "f-fuck, 'so good, please- mnnnnghh- aahh!~" his voice wavered, still driving his cock into you as he breaks through his limits and makes himself whimper gently, tears softening his eyes.

oh but his poor baby, creaming around his shaft so quickly and relentlessly, only to continue being rutted into like a little toy ♡. he coats your sweet little hole with his cum, flooding and painting it all over as his tip poured deep inside of you with a thick, milky warmth that pooled on the varnished wood.

you weren't even speaking anymore, your words melting on your tongue. he doesn't understand a damn thing you're saying but he doesn't need you to speak, he just needs you to feel good.

"fuck... uhhhnn!~.. fuck me, please, baby.." he blathers before he found himself whining at the way your cunt pulsates, eyes teasing at you subtly while he holds your cheeks together in his domineering hand. he doesn't even pull out much, just shoving and grinding his girth into your creamed-up cunny and making you endure the crushing pleasure. his hands scramble to push against the back of your thighs, folding them to let him fully fill up into your already deflowered, milky vulva.

"n-no, g'nna- leon!" your mind goes into total shudder as your back arched, having him hold your hips in place as you started to gush all over his stuffy girth.

"ohh, mhmm.. that's it, sweet girl.." leon knows you feel good, seeing you cry flusteredly while he still thrusted in you to lengthen the feeling of you cumming. he tore at your pride, pulling out the vulnerable version of yourself he hasn't seen in a long time. especially when you reach up for him like you wanted a hug. that did it for him.

he leans down to pick you up, your legs dangle tiredly around his waist. he's sorry to whoever's bed it was that he laid you down on. he whimpered softly into the fabric of your shoulder while trying to regain his stability. you could faintly feel him pepper tame, short kisses on it mindlessly.

he nuzzles into your skin. "you wanna be a good girl f'me?" he murmurs into your neck breathily.

"mhmm.."

"then get on your knees." leon lets go from holding you—letting you scramble onto all fours.

he stuffs himself back inside your sensitive hole like he's aching for it, making you wail with struggle. with your legs aimlessly sprawled on either side of him, he makes sure you don't stray from him by holding your hips again. the flesh spilling between his fingers as he pulls you closer like he's scared you'll run away. his hips move irrationally, wanting to make sure he's hitting it good, all the right spots again, just for his baby. he's so sensitive it starts to throb, masochistic urges as he overstimulates himself ceaselessly.

"hhhngh... you can't just.. come around- and then leave- like it's nothing!-" leon babbled whiningly between his forceful thrusts, his pace increasing with incessant speed. you could feel his fingers nimbly moving through your scalp, leon's hand holding the back of your head down onto the fluff surface where your cute little cries of pleasure went in vain.

you couldn't take it but leon made you, his constant rutting inside you even after cumming doesn't pause. he's suffocating this way but he doesn't even care. he's so loud behind you, fucking into your messy cunt like it hurts real good.

his attention is divulged slightly when he sees a little glow on the pocket of your shirt. how didn't he spot that? his hand snakes over your breast, fingertips swiftly snagging the high-tech vial and shoving it somewhere in his remaining clothing.

you yelped. ada was going to kill you. "h-hey!-" he notices you trying to look behind you but his hand is quicker, turning your head forwards with a gentle grip of his hand. he muffled your face into the sheets with the force of his hand holding your head, and he snaps his hips faster just to have you all adorable and crying for him again. "y'c-can't take tha-" oh, but what were you going to do about it?

he starts deliberately making up mistranslations of what you wanted to say. "mm, what's that, sweet girl? you want more?... oh, i know, baby, oh shh.. i got'chu, you're so good, huh? uhhuh.." he encouraged amidst fucking you back into a state of distraction, a hazy smile to himself while he considers his mission accomplished.

#straight filth.#leon filth.#leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy smut #IM SORRY IKTHIS IS INACCURATEBUT IM TRYING #leon kennedy x reader

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kiskisur · 1 year

Note

This might be a long one but hear me out…

Xiao x m!adeptus!reader

Xiao angst where we were an adeptus that went missing during the cataclysm. Xiao misses us deeply but after all these years is starting to slowly forget our facial features. 🙈 Andddd maybeeee we come back and he takes a while to recognize us.

Ty and have a nice day! 💟

ᝰ.ᐟ you know I can't fight the feeling.

warnings: angst with comfort, adeptus!male reader x xiao, he/him pronouns for [name] (you!) (sorry huhu it helps me improve my writing but I'll try in a 2nd POV maybe? ^^), reader goes missing for hundreds of years.

note: I'm so sorry it took long!! I was resting from. school but here you gooo~ I enjoyed it!!

In the heart of Liyue, where the sunlight dances on the water, [name] and Xiao found themselves in a rare moment of tranquility.

[name] grinned playfully, nudging Xiao with his elbow. "Hey, you with the brooding expression. You know, you've got this whole mysterious aura going on."

Xiao rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the hint of a smile. "I'm not trying to be mysterious. It's just... who I am."

[name] chuckled, leaning in as if he had a juicy secret to share. "Well, lucky for you, I'm the only one who gets to see through that 'mysterious' façade of yours."

Xiao raised an eyebrow, a mixture of skepticism and curiosity in his gaze. "Oh, really? And how exactly do you manage that?"

[name]'s eyes twinkled mischievously. "Simple. I see the Xiao who loves dandelion seeds flying in the wind, the one who secretly enjoys the good I make when he thinks no one's watching."

A faint blush colored Xiao's cheeks, but he crossed his arms in mock defense. "You're making things up."

[Name] pouted dramatically, feigning offense. "Hey now, I thought you'd be happy that I pay attention to these things."

Xiao's resistance finally crumbled, and he couldn't suppress a laugh. "[Name], you're unbelievable."

"That's why you love me," [name] teased, his tone turning softer.

Xiao's gaze softened as he looked at [name]. "Yeah, I do."

[name] beamed, his heart practically radiating with joy. "So, my dandelion-loving, enjoying-my-food Xiao, what's been on your mind lately?"

Xiao sighed, his expression turning more serious. "It's just...I've lived for so long, seen so much. Sometimes, the weight of time feels overwhelming."

[name] reached for Xiao's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I get it, Xiao. But remember, I'm here. We're in this together. And even when you feel like time is dragging you down, I'll be here to lift you up."

Xiao's eyes softened further, gratitude shining in his gaze. "You always know what to say."

[name] winked. "That's because I pay attention to my enigmatic, dandelion-loving boyfriend."

Xiao shook his head, unable to suppress his smile any longer. "You're incorrigible."

"But you love me for it," [name] said with a wink, pulling Xiao into a warm embrace.

One day, though, [name] disappeared. Poof. Just gone. Without a single word, leaving Xiao in a state of shock. Imagine, someone who was always in your space suddenly vanishing like an elusive treasure.

Fast forward through countless sunrises and sunsets, and Xiao's demeanor had changed. He became colder than a Cryo user in the middle of a snowstorm. The once-expressive man turned into a stoic figure, his laughter a rare occurrence, and his interactions minimal.

It's like [name]'s absence took a piece of his soul. You could see him staring into the distance, his eyes clouded with a mixture of sadness and longing. And those dandelion seeds he used to love? Well, they now seemed to remind him of [name], so they got the cold shoulder too.

Time passed. Centuries flowed by like a fast-forwarded play, and the memory of [name] started to blur like a vivid dream upon waking. Xiao's chest ached at the thought that he was forgetting [name]'s laugh, their quirky habits, and even the way their hand fit perfectly in his.

One day, he stood by the Liyue harbor, gazing out at the waves, and a wave of panic washed over him. [name] was slipping away from his mind, and he couldn't stop it. Every detail, every laugh, every touch – they were all fading, and Xiao felt like he was losing [name] all over again.

Zhongli, always the wise one, tried to console him. "Xiao, memories may fade, but the emotions you shared are timeless."

Xiao's gaze was distant, lost in the past. "How can I move on from someone I loved for hundreds of years? It's like letting go of a part of myself."

But then, a day that felt like an echo from history happened. [name] stood before him, as if time had bowed to their love. Xiao's jaw dropped, eyes wide like a Geo traveler who just found a rare artifact.

"[Name]?" he gasped, his voice a mix of shock and disbelief.

[name]'s grin was familiar, the twinkle in his eyes undiminished. "I told you I'd find my way back."

And in that moment, the years melted away, the pain dissolved, and time seemed irrelevant. Xiao rushed forward, unable to hold back his tears, his emotions like a flood bursting through a dam.

"[Name], I... I thought I'd lost you forever," he stammered, voice quivering.

[name] pulled him into a tight embrace, his warmth a reminder that they were real, that they were here. "I'm here now, Xiao. And I'm not going anywhere."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, the weight of the centuries seemed like a distant memory. The forgotten memories resurfaced, the laughter echoed like a long-lost melody, and their love, well, it was stronger than ever. Time might have tried to erase their story, but it had failed, because in the end, love was the ultimate conqueror.

ᝰ.ᐟ and every night I feel it right now, I wish you were here with me.

#♡ ;; kiskisur !#amab reader #x male reader #male reader #genshin impact x male reader #x bottom male reader #x ftm reader #𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ works ~#genshin impact x reader #genshin xiao #genshin xiao x male reader #genshin xiao x reader #genshin xiao x ftm reader #genshin xiao x reader ansft #THIS IS BREAKING MT HEART DTOP

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liillyliilly · 3 months

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Lost In Yesterday

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 1446 synopsis; Ushijima wished that things would always stay like they were when it was yesterday. When Y/n moves out of his yesterday, will he be able to keep up?

[Eventually, terrible memories turn into great ones]

Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn’t know what it means to be subtle. Even as a second year in middle school, when he first saw Y/n he knew he needed to say something about the way she looked or else it would just kill him.

“You are very pretty.”

Y/n just gave a small smile and said something in what he could only recognize as English. When she walked off to her desk in the second row, Ushijima knew he was in for a challenge. Being quiet himself, he realized this wasn’t a good match to try and win. His confidence was at an all-time low, as he looked on at her trying to find ways to fit in at school. She would try and use her hands to talk, or resort to drawing what she was talking about. But when people would just shrug and walk off, he felt like seething because Y/n honestly didn’t deserve that.

The one time he tried to get her to play volleyball with him was when he saw her sitting under a tree flipping through a book. But when she just shook her head and pointed at a group of other kids, Ushijima set the ball down and sat next to her. He felt like he was going to burn himself from how much heat was rushing to his face. When she tried to talk to him using small phrases, he felt endeared to her because even though she could only talk like a small child she had tried her hardest. And he could commend her on that.

He thought he would try and pick up on his English when he got home that day. As he laid on the floor, looking through an English dictionary, his eyes wandered to the volleyball sitting right by the door. But he refocused and lasered his eyes onto the pages of words.

“You can do this. Do it for L/n.”

The next day at school, he swallowed thickly before going up to Y/n and making conversation.

“You and I are friends.” He meant it to be more of a question but the reaction Y/n gave was enough of motivator to keep him learning English.

As he went through Middle school and eventually was in his first and second years of High School, Ushijima kept learning English. And while Y/n improved her Japanese and Kanji writing skills, she was still lacking in a lot of descriptive words and could only make out simple sentences. Which gave Ushijima the opportunity to say whatever he was thinking without getting too flustered, knowing that she wouldn’t understand unless he repeated the words.

“Your eyes remind me of the passion I have for volleyball. Deep and pure.” He mustered out as Y/n was resting her head on her hands reading the same magazine as him. They were sitting across from each other at his kitchen table. And if he lowered his gaze, he could see the colors of the magazine running across her eyes.

“What was that?” She set a hand on the magazine page, lifting her head and straightening her back so that she could be semi-eye level with him.

“Nothing to worry about.”

The days he spent trying to keeping growing as friends with her turned into weeks, that turned into months, that turned into a strong bond going into third year.

[Does it help to get lost in yesterday?]

Ushijima Wakatoshi feels like the only time he ever experienced true jealously was when Y/n started going on dates with the boys on the volleyball team. Even as a blunt person, he just couldn’t ever bring up the fact that he also wanted to take her out on a date. At least once. He could deal with meeting and challenging other volleyball players, but the idea of facing Y/n left a sickly-sweet taste in his mouth.

He didn’t notice just how much she had changed from his second year in middle school, until she started to speak to him in near perfect Japanese. Or how she made friends easier than he did. Or the way she laughed at the jokes his team members uttered. He figured the best way to approach this was to talk to Tendou.

“Satori, how do I make a joke?” Ushijima was laying on his dorm bed, his volleyball resting on his chest.

“Oh, is this mayhaps about the foreign girl?” Tendou kicked the desk he was sitting at and slid across the dorm floor with his office chair, only stopping when his chair hit the edge of Ushijima’s bed.

“There are millions of foreign girls Satori.”

“But there’s only one L/n.” Tendou sang, as he wiggled his fingers in the same way he used to taunt their opponents.

“That is true.”

['Cause it might've been somethin', who's to say?]

Ushijima Wakatoshi was never one to regret things. But he regretted ever letting his heart become Y/n’s, if only for an hour. Recently Y/n had been going on and on about some boy in her math class. And it itched at Ushijima. Every time she said his name in that very specific tone of voice, it scratched at him. She would talk about what it would be like if she ever did confess, saying something about it ‘being something, but really who’s to say’.

“And he lent me a pencil when mine ran out of lead. Can you believe that?” She sighed dreamily, and put her hands to her face and held back a smile.

“I can give you a pencil.” Ushijima handed her a pencil.

“Thanks, Ushi, but it was different when he did it.” She twirled the pencil around her hand. Toying not only with the writing tool, but also toying with Ushijima’s heart. It was some sort of game where she continued to just give him hope then steal it away at the last moment.

“Different how?”

“I don’t know. It just felt,” She muttered in English for minute before getting her light bulb moment. “It felt like some sort of made for TV movie about teenage romance.”

“Real romance is not the same as it is in the movies L/n.” Ushijima clarified. He didn’t want Y/n to mix her reality with the incessant daydreams she wandered through.

Real romance wasn’t just a love at first sight thing. Real romance is knowing and understanding a person on such a deep level where you could probably be more conscious of them than your own self.

“I know.” Y/n huffed, and handed the pencil back to him. But he just closed her fingers over her palm so she kept gripping the pencil.

“So why are you fawning over it?” Ushijima was stuck. He wanted to stay in his yesterday of simply talking to Y/n about her books, or school work, or even just listening to her blabber in an incomprehensible jumble of English and Japanese.

“Ushi, you sound angry.” Y/n set the pencil down on the nearest table in his room.

He didn’t want to be angry. He just had had enough of the waiting around for yesterday to happen again.

“I am.”

“Why?” Y/n tilted her head.

“Because I like you.” He confessed.

“I like you too Ushi, but I don’t know what that has to do with this.”

Ushijima wanted to pull his hair out. Ushijima wanted to grab her shoulders and shake any form of sense into her head. Ushijima wanted to stare at her eyes and watch as the vivid colors swirled around with her emotions. Ushijima wanted something so simple, but why wasn’t he getting any sort of response.

“No, you do not understand. I like you.”

“I like you too! But why are you being mean?” Y/n huffed and turned around so that she wasn’t facing him anymore. It seemed so childish and immature. But it was the only way to protect herself from having to directly look at him.

“Can I show you?” Ushijima walked around Y/n so that they were facing each other again.

“Sure.” Y/n still wasn’t meeting his eyes

He leaned in and pressed his lips onto of hers. He didn’t try to go further by moving his lips. He was content with just having his lips touch hers. But when she pressed back and her hands moved up to run through his olive colored hair, he was no longer lost in his yesterday. The yesterday of staying still and watching everything from a defensive stance. Because, it isn’t yesterday any longer. It’s today.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader #shiratorizawa #childhood crush #friends to lovers #pining #lilly's red string of fate

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chronicbeans · 1 year

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Wally and a Puppeteer Reader (part 2)

My brain won't shut up about this, I like it, and others seem to like it as well. I'm so happy people seem to like my stuff!

TW: Obsessive Behaviors, Stalking, Idol Worship, Scopophobia/Eye Imagery

🎥Today was the day! Apparently, Welcome Home has become beloved enough that someone has decided to interview some of the producers, directors, and cast. Cast including the puppeteers, which means you.

🎥 To be honest, you never really liked being on camera. That isn't to say you didn't like being a puppeteer! No, no, no! You LOVE your job. You love Wally, Home, every character in the neighborhood. You would just rather be behind the scenes. So, this interview is a little daunting.

🎥 When everything is all prepared, you look around the room. Every other puppeteer is sitting with their puppets, just like you are with Wally. Currently, you are all just waiting for the interviewer to finish up with the producers and camera crew. There's been punch laid out and everything for them. It seems like the boss really wanted to make a good first impression with whoever has come in.

🎥 Home is right next to you, with your chair positioned right beside it. It's pretty big, simply because there has to be a couple different versions of it. Ones that fit hand puppets perfectly through the front door and ones that fit the walk around puppets. The larger of the two versions of Home is next to you, with the smaller Home on a table near the title card set.

🎥 Everyone is chatting about their memories making the show, from funny trips that Eddie's puppeteer has made to the improve comedy that Barnaby's puppeteer has come up with for his skits. Everyone is having a jolly good time, except for you. You have this odd feeling like something is going on. Like something is wrong.

🎥 You look down to the little puppet of Wally, which you have nearly sat upon your lap. Ever since the odd incident with storing him away, you have been a bit more protective of him. You don't want him to be messed up. Improperly storing him could result in him being misshapen, so finding out that someone messed with him was alarming.

🎥 Worse yet, though, is that ever since that little incident... you have been feeling like someone is watching you during work. Then there's the colorful letters and drawings you have been getting. Every single one of them has been found on your desk in the storage area for props related to Wally. The language used in the letters are childish and cutesy, such as saying "If you were an apple, you would be the most sparkly and red one, because you are the most!" Every drawing is drawn entirely in crayon, with paint splatters here and there...

🎥 The interviewer comes in, saving you from your own anxious thoughts, as he waves to everyone. He introduces himself, fixing his black suit as he speaks in a formal manner. "Good evening, everyone. I apologize for the delay. Your boss was so excited to tell us about the plans and passion behind this show, I couldn't help but ask him many questions. Now, lets begin."

🎥 It takes a while, but soon, the interviewer gets to you. He asks you simple questions, such as what inspired you to become a puppeteer and what drew you into working on Welcome Home. You give the best answers you could provide, before he asks one that really intrigues you.

🎥"I have heard from some of the production and directing crew that you care a lot about Wally as a character, as well as puppet care. What exactly is it about Wally that you like? What made you want to play him?"

🎥 You couldn't help but grin, explaining everything you loved about Wally as a character. You talk about how he interacts with the audience, small quirks he has and how they are displayed on the show, and even pick him up to go over his character design.

🎥 One sentence you say suddenly makes your brain click in an odd way. The second you let the words "Wally lives to draw art for the viewer of the viewer, due to having a deep appreciation for their kindness" leave your lips, you can't help but remember all of the weird drawings of you you have been finding on your desk recently. You keep talking, though, in the hopes that the memory will just go away for now.

🎥 The drawings can wait. The letters can wait. All that you really want to talk and think about right now is how much this show means to you, as well as how proud of your coworkers you are for helping everyone make Welcome Home as popular as is it. Maybe this interview isn't going as bad as you thought it would?

🎥 You are so invested in talking and answering questions, in fact, that you neglect to notice how Wally seems to subtly curl into your touch. Then again, no one else seems to, either.

#welcome home #wally darling x reader #wally darling #welcome home arg #welcome home x reader

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