#//I'll try get to writing today

[diverse-hearts-ocs]

//I won't be doing any Val Day things on any of my blogs ~ I may try next year but atm it's still too much to handle

Shippy things are okay - I wanna send out lantern rite things at some point hopefully.

[hyacinthsdiamonds]

I'm sorry but the irony of Nico calling Max unprofessional is sending me so bad like sir there's an entire garage full of people, who were literally in the trenches trying to survive the Brocedes fallout while just doing their jobs, who might have a few things to say about your (& Lewis') level of professionalism at that time 😭✋️

[osamusriceballs]

Last-Minute Plans

Ushijima x fem reader

Warnings: NSFW (cockwarming, rather soft)

Words: ~ 1,5 k

About: Wakatoshi got a ring for you, and he needs to make sure it fits.

A/n: Happy Birthday to our beloved Wakatoshi-kun~

"It fits,"

he mumbles with a sigh of relief, one he hadn't realized he was holding. He looks contently at the jewelry now adorning your ring finger.

Ushijima knows that he's late with this. He should have attempted this plan a long time ago; he despises last-minute actions. Lately, however, you've insisted on waiting until he returns home late from practice due to extended training sessions just before the crucial match, making it impossible for him to secretly slip that ring onto your finger to see if it fits. He's aware he hasn't been giving you the time you deserve lately, but he's determined to make it up as soon as he can. He intends to spoil you as soon as the match is over and his schedule finally allows him to have more free time, treating you like the princess you are.

He had nearly abandoned the idea of trying the ring on your finger. He considered simply hoping for the best, planning to alter the ring quickly after proposing if it didn't fit. He knows you wouldn't have minded, but he wanted this moment to be perfect. The first difficulty he had encountered, however, was that you had rings in various sizes in your jewelry box- probably for different fingers, but even after sorting through them, he was still not convinced that he chose the right size.

Relief washes over him as he sees the ring fitting comfortably, and for a short moment, he envisions your future together. He dreams of having you sleep beside him every night, of going on the vacation you've always dreamed of, and of giving you the beautiful wedding ceremony you've always wanted. He's already asked Tendou to be his best man and informed his parents of his plans. He even decided to send his father a notice that his son will be getting married soon—hopefully.

The ring looks stunning on your hand. It's noticeable yet subtly elegant. He's confident you'll love it; you've often praised his taste, describing him as simple in his choices, which you adore.

His gaze drifts to your peaceful sleeping form. You must be exhausted not to have woken up yet. Normally, you'd wait until he returns or awaken when he quietly lies down beside you, an act he's yet to master. You'd always greet him with a tender kiss, a gesture he cherishes most during his days and misses the most when he's away. Yet, you sleep soundly, your face soft, breathing steady. You're wearing one of his shirts, the old Shiratorizawa jersey you claim is the comfiest—adorable on you, he agrees.

He's fairly certain you're wearing only flimsy panties beneath, but he'll take his sweet time tomorrow to explore every inch of your body.

"Toshi," your sleepy voice pulls him from his daydreams, and he quickly hides the ring, clutching your hand in his. You stir, turning towards him, brows furrowing as you reach out blindly.

"Y/n, go back to sleep. It's late," he murmurs in a soothing tone, knowing you find his voice calming.

"I missed you," you groan, squinting your eyes as you try to make out his face in the dimly lit room.

"I missed you too," he replies, smiling softly and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your lips. You smile in return, bringing your free hand to his cheek, a bit clumsily—almost slapping his face, but he doesn't mind; he is simply happy having you close.

"You haven't shaved today," you mumble as you caress his cheek. He hums in response. "I forgot. Does it bother you?"

"No, it doesn't. But you never forget to shave. What was on your mind today?"

You, he thinks, but for once, he refrains from sharing his thoughts. He needs to distract you, to take back the ring unnoticed. How you haven't noticed it so far surprises him.

"I was thinking about…" he begins, his voice trailing off, unsure how to respond without you getting suspicious.

"Wakatoshi, come to bed. You seem really tired," you yawn, and he suddenly knows what he needs to do.

Ushijima leans down to kiss you again, this time deepening the kiss with more passion. He feels your response, your body arching into his touch, your lips moving in sync with his.

"Toshi," you're already breathless after a few kisses, and he finally feels your hand relax, fingers intertwining with his with the metal still on your finger. He typically holds your hand more firmly, but now he keeps his grip gentle, ensuring you don't feel the ring on your finger. With his free hand, he traces the hem of your shirt, his fingers gliding beneath the fabric, encountering the softness of your skin.

"Want you, but I'm tired," you whisper against his lips, prompting him to nuzzle against your neck. "Should I pleasure you? Should I make you feel full?" You moan softly and weakly nod, your eyes barely open in the dark room. Unbeknownst to you, a wave of relief washes over him. This may not be going exactly as he planned, but making love to you with the ring already on your finger is better than he could have imagined.

He quickly runs through potential scenarios in which he could smoothly slide the ring off your finger, deciding to position himself behind you while maintaining a hold on your hand in front of your body. Shifting his body weight, he maneuvers behind you until his chest presses against your back. He skillfully settles beneath the blanket without releasing your hand, making sure not to tighten his grip around your fingers. His lips find your neck, where he places the gentlest kisses against your skin, earning the softest, most beautiful moans from your lips. His hips begin to rhythmically move against your backside, and he feels how he hardens in his pants.

You contently hum while you lean into his touch, raising one leg to allow him to slip his thigh between yours. "Feels good," you murmur as he starts a grinding motion against your pussy. He feels his growing need, a nearly instinctive response to your body. His earlier suspicion about you wearing only his shirt and panties appears accurate; that much he notices when his shorts ride up and his bare thigh grinds against your cunt. As much as he wants the feeling of your bare skin against his, he knows that undressing might raise too much suspicion. Instead, he guides his free hand downward, gently tracing circles against your clothed center.

"You're so perfect. So beautiful. I love you so much," he whispers into your ear, causing you to shudder in his arms. Your grip on his hand tightens, while your other hand softly clutches the sheets. He understands your needs. Grateful that he's still wearing the soft shorts, he pushes them down slightly, quickly freeing his cock.

"Should I use some lube?" he asks, concern lacing his voice, worried about hurting you since he hasn't fully prepared you yet—a truly challenging task when ensuring your hand remains held and he can only use one hand properly.

"Think I'm wet enough," you mumble, and he dips two fingers between your folds to confirm, and he is rewarded with enough arousal to forget about his worries.

As much as he wants to ravish you right now, he knows you would probably drift off to sleep if he makes love to you tenderly—so that's precisely what he does. He gently spreads your legs further with his thigh, allowing his cock to rest between your legs. It has almost become a routine for him to set aside your panties and gradually ease his cock inside you- a practice that you often do after he comes home late from his practice sessions.

A breathy moan escapes your lips at the stretch, and he feels his own body tensing at the sensation of your soft walls around him. He continues to push until he's fully inside of you. You always take him so well—it feels breathtaking to be buried deep inside you. He still hopes you'll succumb to sleep in this embrace, even though he's surely wide awake himself.

"Feels good," you hum, your breathing gradually returning to a steady rhythm. He pulls you closer, inhaling the soothing flowery scent of your hair- a scent that always brings him comfort and calms his mind when he can't seem to rest. You might not fully grasp how much he loves you—how every fiber of his being yearns for you, how he wishes for you to be happy and to be his. This is precisely why he plans to propose to you tomorrow and to place the ring back on your finger. You wouldn't refuse him on his birthday, would you?

"Sleep well, my love."

[sheikahwarriork]

Sylvain: I think she is staring again…

Dimitri: I am sure she simple despises me.

Felix: It’s called focus, boar. You should try it for once in your life.

Jeralt, who is in horse duty nearby and knows exactly where she is looking as once he also received the very same unblinking, wild and intense gaze from Sitri to his own bosom: … that boy has no idea what he just got himself into.

CANON TO ME DEAR ANON!!

i liked this idea so much it made me write a little fic, i hope you'll enjoy!

wordcount: 2.4k

Staring

Dimitri was puzzled by the Ashen Demon- no, she said her name is Byleth, and Dimitri couldn't find a reason to not use it (especially because it sounds so sweet on his lips)- by Byleth's intense stare. The woman was not very expressive, he knew it well by now; and despite Dimitri's efforts to get to know her better, he still couldn't figure out why she started to staring at him so much. He was almost sure she hates him, and how could he blame her? His army essentially forced her and Jeralt's company to join the kingdom (that, or death); and even if Shez tried many times to reassure him that Byleth wouldn't do anything she doesn't want, and Jeralt himself thanked the king for freeing them from the Empire's hands, Dimitri can't help but feel like Byleth Eisner isn't feeling comfortable in his army. ('Forced to fight for the useless beast you are-')

And that was a shame, because the woman was a formidable warrior (stronger than Felix, or Dedue, or Shez, and perhaps than Dimitri himself), and Dimitri wish he could make the woman feel more at home. After all, he was the king: it was his duty to make sure everybody is fine. No other reasons whatsoever, of course!

---

Entering the Dining hall of the kingdom's camp, Dimitri immediately noticed two things: Byleth Eisner was eating with Shez and Flayn; and Byleth Eisner's look turned to him the very moment he stepped foot in there. Feeling flustered, Dimitri's gaze turned away, but he sould feel the woman still staring at him. (He already noticed that, if she got caught in her staring, she didn't look embarassed like anyone else caught staring would be; she kept doing whatever she wanted- exactly like Shez told him.)

Sylvain must have noticed too, because Dimitri could hear him chuckle a bit. "She really is shameless, isn't she," he said with a teasing tone.

"I am sure she is holding a grudge towards me," Dimitri replied, unable to hide the light sad tone. "Everytime I look at her, she has that same staring expression."

Felix sighed, annoyed. "For someone so sure she hates you, you sure seems to notice her a lot, stupid boar," he said, rolling his eyes.

Sylvain's chuckle becomes a full laughter.

Dimitri's cheeks blush. "I- I only wish for Miss Eisner to feel comfortable in our army."

Sylvain, still laughing, managed to catch breath. "Well, maybe you should try to give her a dagger, Your Majesty!"

Now Dimitri's blush reached his ears. "Sylvain!" he exclaimed, looking at his friend in astonishment. "This is very unprofessional and uncalled for."

"Strange to say, but the boar is right," Felix said. "If she truly hates him, why should he give her a weapon?" he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Aware that Felix didn't know about the so-called "dagger incident", and fearing that Sylvain was going to tell too much, Dimitri tried to change topic. "Do any of you know about today's stall duty turn?"

He failed. "Well, Your Majesty, if you're really so curious about her feelings for you, shouldn't you ask her directly?" Sylvain said with a malicious hint in his eyes.

Felix shrugged. "Again, strange to say, but Sylvain is right," he said, then looked at Dimitri. "This whole thing is distracting you. Fix it before you fully become a full useless boar, and not just an annoying boar."

Ignoring Felix's last comment, Dimitri nodded. "You are probably right. I should speak to her and make sure Miss Eisner is not bothered by something."

---

When Byleth reached puberty, Jeralt feared he was too old to deal with a teen girl; but luckily (for him) his kid never caused any problem, never went through any "rebel" phase, and never showed any interest towards anyone. And even if Jeralt knew it was selfish of him, he was glad his little girl was still the same.

But now, he would trade a whole troublesome adolescence, if it meant his daughter wouldn't fall for the freaking King of Faerghus.

The Eisners were assigned for stall duty that evening, and as always Byleth was doing an impeccable job. But she suddenly stopped in her working, and Jeralt noticed her eyes carefully following the king's movement: he was walking near them, probably headed to his tend; and Jeralt noticed the nervous expression of the king, when he noticed Byleth was staring at him.

"Hey, kid?" Jeralt called, hoping to catch her attention.

"Yes?" she replied, her eyes still fixed on the king's figure.

"Are you feeling alright? We can take a break if you want."

"No need," Byleth simply replied, not bothering to look away. When the king was out of sight, she turned to Jeralt. "Dad, Dimitri's weird."

The man almost choked. His daughter always has been honest and straight to the point, but to hear her call the king in such a casual manner… he was glad that at least the king didn't look like a strict guy. "Wha- why do you think so?"

Byleth frowned a little, the expression Jeralt knew she made when trying to express a thought she herself didn't really understand. "He… is weird. He's not like anyone I've ever met."

Jeralt sat down. 'I'm too old for this.' "Is that why you stare at him so often?"

Byleth nodded. "I'm curious. And I'm trying to understand why he intrigues me so much."

"So you're… intrigued by him?"

Byleth nodded again, not showing even a hint of embarassment. "And I can't figure out why. He's strong, but he's not the only strong person I met, right? And he's tall, but Dedue is taller. And he's very kind- well, Mercedes and Annette are kind to me too, but in a different way. And he has a pretty smile. But other people smile too. That is to say, he doesn't have anything special per se, and yet, it's like everything is special about him. And I can't figure out why." Byleth was frowing again.

Jeralt wished he had at least a beer with him. "Well, kid… sometimes, people think someone in particular is very special, and that someone is special in ways only for them. The king… is not weird. I think you're intrigued by him not because he's weird, but because you feel he's special for you."

Byleth brought a hand to her chin. "And why is that?" she asked, sincerely puzzled.

Jeralt wished he had two beers with him. "I don't know, kid. Nobody knows how… uhm, why sometimes people think someone else is special. Only the Goddess, perhaps."

Byleth looked like she was lost in thoughts for a few seconds, but then she shook her head. "No, I don't think she does."

Confused, Jeralt decided to drop the matter. "In any case, it's completely normal to feel this way about someone. So you shoudn't worry."

"I don't," Byleth stated. "I guess I'll just have to live with that."

Jeralt's heart almost broke. His kid's first crush was a king, probably already engaged with some duke's daughter: not the most lighthearted romantic story. And yet, the look on his daughter face when looking at Dimitri was the same one Sitri used to give him, a long time ago. It wasn't a simple crush.

He made a bittersweet smile. "Kid, have I ever told you the story of when I met your mother?"

Byleth looked at him, her eyes full of curiosity. She simply shook her head.

"The first time I saw her, she was watering some flowers. Blue irises, just like her eyes. She was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen; she was so captivating I stopped in my walking, and almost tripped! She heard me and turned to look at me… And when our eyes met, she simply smiled. And that is when I knew I fell for her."

"So you did trip in the end?" Byleth asked, tilting her head.

Jeralt chucked, shaking his head. "I mean I fell in love with her."

Byleth nodded, as if understanding during a lesson. "I see. Interesting choice of words." She adverted her gaze. "But thank you for telling me this story."

Was Jeralt's sight getting bad, or was his daughter smiling?

---

Dimitri breathed deeply. The time had come to face Byleth Eisner, to finally talk to her and find out whatever reason she hated him for.

He was well aware of the true reason he postponed the talk for so long. The fear of hearing her sweet voice telling him how much and why she hated him was frightening at least. ('Pathetic. To fear some words from a whatever mercenary girl…') The fear of seeing her go away, far away from his army, far away from him-

Regular as clockwork, her stare was on him the very moment he entered her field of vision (-The fear of not watching her beautiful emerald eyes again-). She kept staring at him while he was approaching. Her stare was unnerving; and Dimitri realized, it was not because he didn't like the idea of getting attention from her, but because it was like she could see inside him, see the monster he truly was. (-The fear of hearing she knew the beast inside him, the fear she may hate him for what he truly was, the fear of knowing she, too, rightfully hated him-)

"Good evening, Miss Byleth," he managed to say, trying to hide his anxiety.

"Hi, Dimitri," she simply replied, calling him by his name. Someone else would be offended by such casualness, but Dimitri always preferred to be addressed by his name, rather than sumptuous titles. (-The fear to lose one of the few people that seemed to understand his wish, the fear to not hear his name from her sweet lips ever again-)

"I don't want to cause any inconvience, but may I speak with you?"

The woman was sitting on a bench, polishing her sword; she simply nodded and made space on the bench for him.

Feeling more nervous than ever, Dimitri complied, and sat next to her. Byleth set down her sword and whetstone and looked at him. "What's the matter?"

Dimitri inhaled deeply. "Forgive me if it's not the case and I'm stealing your time uselessly, but I have the feeling you hold some kind of sentiment towards me. If I have done anything that upset you, please feel free to speak to me."

"Oh. So you have noticed," the mercenary said, for the first time adverting her gaze.

Dimitri felt his heart sink. 'She hates you. Of course she hates you. Were you really hoping she was interested in such a lowly beast-'

"I talked to my father, and he said I think you're special," Byleth kept talking. "Then he told me the story of when he met my mother. I'm not completely sure the two things are related, but maybe he meant he thought my mother was special too?" she asked, looking at Dimitri, as if he had the answers.

He simply blinked. "I'm sorry. What?"

"See? So I'm not the only one that doesn't understand," Byleth sighed.

"No, I mean… I- what… You… What?!"

Byleth looked at him again. "I mean, it was a nice story, and I'm glad he told me. Jeralt rarely speaks about my mother. But I don't understand. And it's annoying. Dimitri, do you think someone is special for you?"

Dimitri was speechless; their talk wasn't like anything he had prepared for. "I- well, I think you're a very special person, Miss Byleth," he finally said. He did, in fact.

"Oh." Byleth, the usually impassive Byleth Eisner, the infamous Ashen Demon, the one mercenary known for striking down enemies without batting an eye, was blushing.

"I- I mean, I saw what you're capable of on the battlefield, you're one of the strongest warrior I've ever met. But I know you're also very kind and patient- I see how you help everybody you can here on our base, and… And you're also very smart, your strategies in the last battle were crucial for our victory! It's a pleasure to have hired you, I consider myself a lucky man to have the change to know you, Miss Byleth. So yes, I can confirm you are a special person indeed."

Dimitri was aware he stuttered a lot, but couldn't stop himself in keep going. Especially because for every thing he said, the blush on Byleth's cheeks got redder. And she was more mesmerizing than ever.

"Very interesting," she finally said, breathless. "Now I understand what my father meant with 'thinking a person is special'. Thank you."

"I admit I feared you held a feeling of hate or some sort for me, Miss Byleth, but I'm glad to know it's not the case," Dimitri said with a smile, feeling lighter.

Byleth frowned lightly. "Why would I hate you?"

Dimitri blushed. "I…" 'Because I'd deserve it.' "It doesn't matter."

"Well, according to my father's words, it's more like I'm in love with you, so I don't think I hate you even a bit," Byleth bluntly stated, as if reflecting on a mission plan.

Dimitri stared at her, sure he didn't hear her words well. Surely he misheard, she couldn't really feel that way for him, he wasn't worthy of such things from anyone, especially her-

And yet, if he did hear her right, if she truly meant what she said- if there was a little, brief possibility she returned his sinful feelings-

"… So yes, you shouldn't worry," Byleth nodded at her own words. "If it's all, I think I'll go to get my dinner. Are you angry? We could-"

She was getting up, she was about to walk away. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed her by the wrist. He needed to know. "Can you repeat that?"

Byleth tilted her head. "That I'm gonna get my dinner?"

"No… before that. That you lo… that you lov…" Dimitri immediately regretted his actions. Of course he misheard her, and now he was making a fool of himself. 'To hope for such things when it's clear nobody can love you, do you enjoy so much to suffer?'

"Oh! You mean that I'm in love with you?" Byleth replied. "My father didn't exactly said that, but I guess it's the right name for this feeling-"

Dimitri moved quickly, taking her face in his hands and pressing a soft kiss on her lips. "Byleth, I love you too. Please marry me."

Byleth was right in thinking she'll live loving Dimitri, and Jeralt was wrong in worrying about it.

bonus scene:

Byleth: Dad, I made a weird dream about Dimitri. We were both naked and-

Jeralt: NOPE. I'M TOO SOBER FOR THIS CONVERSATION

[cerise-on-top]

This is a vent piece. My psychosis got far worse again today, and my anxiety has been peaking each day for the past two weeks now. Pretty sure no one's going to read this, but I don't care. I wrote this with Price in mind, but this could be about anyone.

TW: graphic metaphors of violence, reader is psychotic and going through an episode, I think

What a beautiful day it was. The sun, at its zenith, brought a pleasant temperature with it. Any creature, capable of feeling both pleasure and warmth, would yearn for a nap underneath its rays. The sky, such a radiant blue, glorious in its pulchritude, made for the ideal day to go outside. Wherever one were to look, a human and its companions were close by, smiling at each other, cracking jokes. Some were enjoying lovely meals, others were indulging in sports. But many agreed, such a day had to be lived. Stormy clouds would come soon enough as they were, bringing an end to this reign of cheer. However, such thoughts couldn’t have been further away from the masses.

So, why were you stuck at home, bearing the curse of a headache no one had ever understood? This echo of a pain, it had only ever brought you suffering. Gripping your hair in your hands, you fought a war with yourself to not bash your head against the wall. The urge, ever so strong, was taking a hold of you, but you dared not let it win, for the consequences were dire enough to scare you into dominance over your mental illness. It was an unbearable pain, unlike anything you could ever have experienced normally. And yet, you’ve been living like this for the past few years now. It brought you to your knees as your breathing was uneven. Sharp breaths, deep breaths, were you even breathing at all? Even the voice in your head was concerned, trying to soothe you. Why wouldn’t the pain go away? Why couldn’t you have been normal?

Promises of aid in your darkest times came to mind, but the fear of burdening your loved ones broke each and every one of them. You wanted to swing your head violently around, making sure to break your skull, the splinters in your brain drowning out the pain that currently was. You couldn’t make it through this alone, but you had to. You were scared, alone, but you were a warrior, fighting for survival. If anyone ever knew how much agony you were in, they’d point and laugh at you. Your breathing sped up as you lowered your head to the floor. The cold wood did nothing to alleviate the torture you went through. You wanted to bite away at your own skin, gnawing at your bones so the physical pain would overshadow the mental one. You clutched your head, horrid images of flesh and bone crossing your mind. What did you do? And why did you deserve this? Picking at your skin, cutting away the flesh to reveal what’s inside, tearing open your body. You didn’t want this.

But somehow, a hand was placed on your back. As warm as the sun, as meaningful as the first nice day after a storm. You didn’t dare to look up. You’ve messed up. Someone saw you in your vulnerable state, here to take no mercy on you, who suffered through the layers of hell in this ordinary world. The hand burned through your skin, ridiculing you, but you craved it.

“Love, what’s wrong? Please look at me.”

You were shaking, your stomach churning as you tasted iron in your mouth. You were not long for this world, but you had to endure.

“It hurts so bad. I’m sorry.”

The hand on your back started to move, frantically so as it attempted to soothe you. The warmth spread, but your pain has been noted by someone else. You couldn’t move. But still, as humiliating as being perceived was, you focused on the hand.

“Don’t be sorry. Just tell me what’s wrong.”

The voice in your head made it all up. It was so loud, almost drowning out any other sound. You needed him to speak. He needed to continue, he needed to distract you.

“I’m sorry.”

Two arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer to another source of warmth. His heart was beating, he was breathing, he was a beacon of comfort.

A body you loved, so close to you. His scent was almost overwhelming, but it was proof he was alive. You were alive, you believed, taking it in.

“Please, continue talking. I don’t care about what.”

And so, he betrayed your one request, staying silent. Perhaps it was your fault, perhaps it showed a weakness within him that only you could bring forth. And yet, his mere presence brought to light a strength you forgot about within yourself. As you no longer held onto your head as though it was torn at the seams, you instead sought him out. Finding solace within a gentle embrace, you took a deep breath as you buried your face in his shoulder. He was a soldier, one much better fitted for the cruelty this world brought about. He only knew how to kill, his only home was within the damned souls he sent to hell. But within his gentle grasp, you focused solely on him. Begging for comfort, like a child starved of its parent’s attention.

The knife of unreality twisted in your guts, slitting your throat, leaving you unable to speak. You were dependent on him in that moment. It was him, who needed to stitch you back together, make sure you could regard yourself as anything but a human failure. If you could even consider yourself a human in the first place.

But he was oh so meticulous in taking each bloody piece, infusing it with new life before merging it into an empty hull of a body. And as he’d build his own poisoned paradise, he inhaled the fumes and saw a glimpse of a future he still desired. What you had always seen as his certain demise, he saw a dream more pleasant than the heavens themself. Exhaling into your seemingly lifeless body, he shared his very essence with you. Even when you unwillingly knock on death’s door, he would still protect you from the grief of losing yourself, tearing you away from the pain of the unknown.

The sun, at its zenith, had nothing to say to you. It gave you an environment to live in, but no reason to stay in it. Only this one man, broken from war, found it within himself to show you the joy of being. His pieces had been scattered, but he still shared what little was left of him with you, building a secure fort around your being.

And from within the view of a safe home, you could even gaze at the stars, relishing in the cold. You had a different kind of warmth to return to.

[spectrophobias]

ok apparently im going to have to make this a rule on here if i want to come back but if you write nasty characters with absolutely no critique of their gross bits im not interested in writing with/following you. this includes ableists, fascists, cops, etc. i've seen way more of it than usual lately and it makes me super uncomfortable and honestly grossed out. i'm all for writing foul characters, not so much for supporting certain charged ideologies with no critical analysis behind it.

[lit-in-thy-heart]

been trying out a new writing technique recently and it's called chilling tf out and reminding myself that fic is written for fun.

[theflyingfeeling]

...😭

[overly-verbose]

A little update; I've gone absolutely bonkers with writing between panicked revisions for Exams™ and thus can announce that Part 8 is gonna be around 16~k words (most likey somewhat above 16k tbh)

ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ 🎶

( (;; o o) ??? )

[insurged]

ANNOUNCEMENT: blog hiatus from may 7-10th !! i won't be on here since i'll be visiting my grandmother in CA.

[ineed-to-sleep]

I think driving school could try being a little more interesting tbh. Hiring a clown or something to teach theory lessons idk. Make an effort break a leg guys

[thatswhatsushesaid]

the fool 🤝 jin guangyao being easily the most dynamic and compelling characters in their respective canons, likely for reasons that were substantially if not entirely unintentional on the part of their respective authors

[natreads]

I'm in Greece! I'm visiting my grandparents and will spend the next two weeks working on my novel, reading books and doing some work while sitting in their garden or patio

[yeonban]

I have to say, whatever happened to me writing-wise yesterday needs to happen again Posthaste bc my inbox was in the 110s just two days ago

[byanyan]

can i just be emotional on main for a sec & thank y'all again for sticking with me & supporting my weird little brand here these last few months while i've been like. worse than ever about getting any writing done? just like. hhh. all of u putting up with my shitposts & liking the hcs and whatever else i shove out onto the dash while i'm struggling with energy for replies, and everyone who still wants to plot & develop our dynamics despite me being the WORST at keeping up with dms (& being somehow even worse at being the one to actually initiate dms), and!!!! those of you who continue to indulge me by sending me asks despite the fact that you've been waiting 5 years for me to reply to our thread!!! i appreciate u guys sm, like i don't think u actually understand just how much. i mean this so sincerely: thank you

[lunaetis]

[ *crawls out of bed* good morning ... what year is it ... ? ]