#90% of the process is to stare at references

[tevintersnakes]

Some downtime doodles in my weekend

[audible-smiles]

eating salmon: an explanation

lox: thin cuts of salmon (traditionally the fatty belly meat) dry cured with salt, but not smoked. this results in a delicate texture and a very salty taste. lox originated in Scandinavia as a method of preserving fish prior to refrigeration, but the American English word is derived from Yiddish because Jewish delis in New York first popularized it as a bagel topping. since lox is a type of uncooked fish, it is not recommended for pregnant people, immunocompromised people, or seniors, due to the risk of contamination with listeria.

cold-smoked salmon: thin cuts of salmon brined (with less salt than lox) and then smoked below 90 degrees Fahrenheit. results in the same silky texture but a milder, more palatable taste. often called "Nova lox", referring to Nova Scotia but denoting a method of preparation rather than the fish's origin. this is usually what modern Americans are referring to when they use the term "lox". cold-smoking reduces but does not eliminate the risk of listeria.

hot-smoked salmon: salmon brined quickly and then smoked above 120 degrees Fahrenheit. results in a flaky, jerky-liked texture, a hard shiny surface, and a smoky flavor. (as a West-coaster, this is my preferred style!) hot-smoking eliminates listeria during the cooking process, but salmon can be recontaminated during the processing/packaging process if the facility is not sanitary. (really, this is true of all foods- vegetables, dairy products, etc).

salmon candy: a traditional Pacific Northwest hot-smoked salmon recipe where the brine is sweetened with brown sugar, and the smoked fish is glazed with a sauce containing birch or maple syrup.

salmon jerky: cured salmon hot-smoked for longer than usual or processed in a dehydrator until it is tough and chewy.

gravlax: a traditional Scandinavian raw salmon recipe where the brine contains sugar and dill. historically buried in the ground and lightly fermented. sometimes it is still pressed to give it a dense texture.

kippered salmon: thicker cuts of brined salmon hot-smoked above 150 degrees Fahrenheit. results in a texture similar to baked salmon.

salmon sushi/sashimi: completely raw fresh salmon. this didn't exist in traditional Japanese cuisine, where salmon was always cooked, possibly because the local wild salmon had a high burden of parasitic worms (anasakis nematodes). Norwegian fish sellers convinced them to try farmed Atlantic salmon raw in the 80s, and it really took off.

poached salmon: salmon cooked on the stove while submerged in liquid (often white wine with lemon). results in a moist, soft, cooked fish with a pale color. can be bland without sauce.

baked salmon: salmon cooked in an oven, often wrapped in aluminum foil with seasonings to retain moisture and flavor. can result in perfect, flaky fish (as long as you don't overcook it).

dishwasher salmon: look, sometimes white people wrap salmon in aluminum foil like they're going to bake it and then poach it in their dishwasher instead. this can work but is stupid because the temperature dishwashers run at isn't standardized, so you have no control over the process and it's easy to over or undercook.

pan-fried salmon: salmon cooked in oil on a stovetop. I've never done this and frankly it sounds wrong, but I bet it makes the skin crunchy.

broiled salmon: salmon cooked under a broiler. as with all broiled foods, you will have to stare at it the whole time or it will burn to a crisp while your back is turned. results in a caramelized exterior.

grilled salmon: to grill salmon people often put it on a Western redcedar plank pre-soaked in water, which supposedly infuses the salmon with a smoky, aromatic flavor while it cooks. I've seen the technique variously credited to the Haida, the Salish, and the Chinook. it seems to be a modern variation of the traditional "salmon on a stick" style of slow-cooking salmon by spearing it on branches and leaning it over the coals of an above-ground pit fire.

deep-fried salmon: this sounds absolutely awful but I simply cannot stop thinking about it

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort Pt. 6

6k words - F/M - Astarion x F! Named Tav (Nym) - 18+

Warning: Graphic depictions of violence

Summary: Nym lets Astarion drink from her until he's full—perhaps too full—using multiple scrolls of Lesser Restoration. His erection grows unignorable in the process. How will he cope?

Tags: smut, fluff, angst, p in v sex, creampie, cunnilingus, fingering, blood drinking, multiple vampire bites, blood loss, inappropriate use of the tadpole, PTSD, reference to past trauma, F! OC is autism-coded

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 for full tag list (Recommended)

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Notes: Sorry that it took me so long to release this chapter. It's literally been sitting 90% finished in my files for quite some time now lol. I've just been putting off finishing it because I didn't know how to end the chapter! Thanks for your patience <3. No beta-read for this chapter.

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𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟔: 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐢

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

Too soon, the morning crept in, and Astarion wanted to hold Nym a while longer—an action that was beginning to feel both self-indulgent and generous.

Nym drooled on his chest in a trance so deep that it could be mistaken for sleep. She often tranced like that, and it was certainly something that he envied. Most nights since the nautiloid, he'd been plagued with unwelcome nightmarish visions of his old master.

Astarion toyed with Nym’s unruly waves, pinching a lock of hair between his fingers and twirling it nonchalantly. The sun had only just risen. The birds were singing, signalling for everyone to awake, but he knew that it'd still be some time before anyone woke, including Nym who always rested like a rock.

He stared at the roof of his tent, basking in the warmth of Nym's embrace. He wondered if she felt comfort in the coolness of his touch, or if it was something she merely tolerated, but he suspected the latter.

Her meltdown during their sexual encounter the night before had caught him off guard. It was something he wouldn't have expected from the free-spirited, promiscuous wood-elf. After guessing her circumstance, it felt wrong to label her as such.

He wondered what happened, but when her words melted into his ears, he felt like he knew—given his own experience.

— “Am I just a warm body to you?”

He had pondered this about himself with her before, just as he had for centuries during countless nights spent priming victims for Cazador. Everyone—all of them—would spout platitudes of love or lust, making everything to do with sex feel sullied over time. Yet now, whether it was his newfound free will or Nym herself, something felt different about their budding friendship—something unlike his experiences with all his other lovers.

With his hand slotted between his head and the pillow, he craned his neck to get a better look at her.

But. . .

What he saw was not Nym, but Sebastian—the man he'd brought to Cazador almost 200 years ago—with saturated sharpness and sordid eyes that seemed to burn holes into Astarion.

In a panic, Astarion leapt up, shoving Sebastian off of his chest. The corpse—bleeding profusely out of two small bite marks on his throat—stained the blankets there with blood.

As the scent of rot became overpowering, within mere seconds, Astarion watched in horror as the face morphed into hundreds—no, thousands of other nameless faces that he’d faintly recognized.

All before landing finally back on Nym. . .

He was almost relieved until he realized that the bite marks were still gushing, her face lacked its typical bright and lively complexion, and her eyes were missing their usual lustre.

—But—she couldn't be. . .

He hadn't—

As the blankets that surrounded him became wet with warm blood, he brought his hands into view, and they were covered in Nym’s sweet ichor.

Shamefully, he felt a pang of hunger as he watched her blood run down his forearm.

“If it isn't our prodigal son, how I've longed to find you once again,” a sinister and familiar voice spoke, snickering with satisfaction.

—Cazador.

Looking up, he saw his tormentor towering above him. Taking in his surroundings, he noticed that he was no longer at camp, but in the Szarr Estate.

“Though, don't entertain the idea that you'll forgo punishment only because you've brought home such a delectable treat.” His patented intonation assaulted Astarion's eardrums.

Glancing at Nym, he saw her lifeless body on the dirty floor of the kennels.

He felt frozen, but his undead heart raced unrelentingly.

“No,” Astarion growled, forcing eye contact with the black-haired man.

“Ungrateful, as always. Perhaps I will do the honours of punishing you myself instead of Goedy. How I've missed your sweet screams; the most beautiful of melodies.” With hands behind his back, Cazador stalked around Astarion, much like a predator.

Astarion’s stomach lurched with anguish, not knowing whether to grab Nym and run, or to shield her, because surely she wasn't dead.

Surely he could save her. . .

But, all at once, he heard a command, muffled by the ringing in his ears.

It wasn't until he felt his stomach and cheek being pressed into the cold-hard floor that he realized what had happened.

—A compulsion.

He was, once again, in the jaws of a monster—his master—who'd begun to straddle his backside and smash his head against the ground hard enough to crush bone.

Astarion groaned as he felt the familiar sting of his master’s cherished blade—so-called Rhapsody—carving into his back.

The pain was visceral and sharp as Cazador carved from shoulder to shoulder without lifting his blade.

Astarion stifled his screams, but tears fell unbidden as he panted off-beat.

Cazador only removed his blade to find purchase elsewhere. This time: the side of his ribcage, starting from below his right armpit. The new spot was too sensitive—too filled with nerves—and the pain was so terrible that it almost caused him to faint.

Finally, Astarion began to wail, “Stop! Pleas— master!” His entire body felt as if it were rejecting the honorific—as if he could cough it back up.

As the blade traced a line towards the flesh on the side of his waist, he couldn't help but expel a gut-wrenching scream so deep that it felt as if it came from the hells.

To this, Cazador chuckled maniacally, provoking more tears to fall from Astarion’s scarlet eyes as he sobbed. Choking on his own saliva, he retched onto the musty ground that was mere millimetres from his lips.

In this moment, Astarion’s only wish was his own death, because he knew now that his recent freedom had been solely evanescent.

“Astarion,” Cazador spoke darkly, snapping Astarion back to the present.

He leaned in, and screamed, “Astarion!”

“Astarion!” He heard, but this time, a woman's voice. Nym's, and she sounded afraid; he had to find her, to help her—

. . .

Blinking, the kennel was gone, along with its fetid scent.

He squeezed his eyes together, trying to make out the blurry shapes in front of him.

The shapes came into focus.

—Nym.

Her face was red, her cheeks were wet. Was she—crying?

“I've been trying to wake you—ah,” she winced. “I'm so glad you're awake now.”

—I'm awake. It was only a. . . a nightmare.

Just then, he felt something touch his cheek, causing him to flinch before he realized that it was just a finger—Nym’s finger.

“Oh—sorry. I just. . .” she grabbed her wrist and held her hand close to her chest as if it were a grubby little thing to be chastised. Frowning, her gaze fell.

Astarion brought his knuckle to his eye and swiped experimentally. Pulling it into view, he saw a clear droplet that dripped from his finger to his lips. He licked instinctively, tasting the salty flavour.

—A tear?

He recollected the events, pseudo and otherwise, that had occurred within the past few moments as he stared perplexedly at his hand.

—My tear?

—Better than her blood, he thought, shuddering at the memory of his nightmare.

Nym's gaze was fixed on him as her lips parted as if she were about to say something, but no words left her mouth.

With a huff, Astarion let his head fall back on the pillow and stared at the tent's roof. “Thank you.”

Nym, squeezing her wrist and gulping, shifted slightly as she sat on her heels. “Are you okay?” she asked, seriously.

“What did you see?” Astarion closed his eyes, almost sure as to what her answer might be and feeling discomfort at the thought.

Nym, releasing her wrist, repositioned herself to sit cross-legged, sighing with eyes closed. “Well. . . you were pleading—pleading for mercy, it seemed. You started grimacing and crying. . .”

She seemed to hesitate to speak her next words.

“Anything else?” Astarion asked.

“Your master—you pleaded for him to—” but she choked on her words as tears began to stream down her face, which screwed up in anguish.

—To stop.

Nym wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I'm sorry, I know this isn't about me.”

—Odd, this doesn't feel like simple pity.

“I swear,” she started, her face contorting with anger as an undignified sob overtook her. “We’re going to kill that bastard. He can't have you.” Her fists balled up, knuckles turning white. “He can't,” she nearly whispered with a pleading intonation, squeezing her tear-filled eyes shut and hanging her head. She rocked back and forth, digging her knuckles into his blankets futilely.

Witnessing Nym’s raw display of emotion in response to his night terror—which bled from the seams of his unconscious and into his waking life—stirred a tumult of feelings within Astarion. Her anger and sorrow were palpable, and it confused him why she seemed so affected by his problems which had nothing to do with her.

He'd made an educated guess about the shadows in her past, particularly after her emotional breakdown the previous day when she had asked if he liked her. He knew Nym was sensitive but it seemed to come out of nowhere. At least until she asked if she was more than just a warm body to him, after that, things became clearer: she must’ve gone through something similar to him. Why else would she have broken down that way during such a physically intimate moment?

She was an enigma, appearing self-sufficient and remarkably knowledgeable about various topics, yet almost sheltered and unaware of the typical rhythms of everyday life.

He couldn't quite place the feeling, but it felt different than the simple pity he'd received thus far. She wasn’t just feeling sorry for him in a way that made him feel weak or patronized; she was standing with him, sharing his burden, even.

The strange and burgeoning camaraderie that he shared with this sweet little druid was proving more fruitful than he had expected, and only after a few days of fighting at her side.

He wondered if the others would come to care for his problems in time as well, and he hoped that they might even help bring an end to Cazador's reign. 

But even so, could they really stand a chance against Cazador? He could show up at camp any day, and Astarion wasn’t confident in their abilities. Consequently, they would—he would—have to stay vigilant until the moment his master ceased to exist. Until then, blind hope was all he had. That, and the tearful Nymsy who was currently watching over him at his bedside as if he were a sick child.

He reached for Nym’s wrist, which was feebly grinding into the blankets. At first, his fingers simply grazed her skin, snapping her out of her fit. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, their shared gaze conveyed more than any words could.

Nym dropped her gaze to weave their fingers together. She smiled, though her eyes looked pained, and squeezed his hand tightly before meeting his eyes once more. Difficult to ignore—an unusual presence fluttered in his ribcage.

As his eyes fixed on her trembling lips, he was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, though he didn’t know why, as the moment didn’t feel sexual like every other time he’d kissed her. It was as if his lips simply yearned to be connected with hers.

With his free hand, he pushed himself up and swiftly locked lips with Nym in a passionate and bruising kiss, unsure if he was rewarding her, or perhaps being capricious.

His entire relationship with her thus far has been a confusing stew of manipulation and lust. When she had asked if they were friends, the question initially perplexed him. 

—Do friends kiss? Do friends sleep with one another? Do friends hope for exclusivity in their relationship?

What they had wasn't mere friendship, but something adjacent, or perhaps more intense, though he'd never admit just how intense.

It seemed like Nym settled into their quickly-developing relationship as if it were second nature to her, Astarion on the other hand, had a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach that somehow, something would go wrong.

Why did he even care, though? It had only been naught but four days since they'd met on the cliffside; an interaction in which Astarion had threatened Nym's life at knifepoint.

No, there was no way that Nym cared for him deeply enough to want to participate in his plot of revenge, could she?

Nym sobbed, breaking the kiss. “I'm sorry,” she apologized, wiping her tears. “I hope that soon, you feel safe enough to talk about it. I think I have some things I'd like to talk about, too.” Nym took both his hands, gently caressing them with her thumbs.

He was utterly stun-locked, unable to form words—unable to think.

“Um—here.” Nym shifted, pulling her hair away to bare her neck. “I’m still game for our experiment if you are.”

Astarion decided to temporarily set aside his disbelief in favour of Nym’s offer, slipping his mask back on.

“You're too generous, my sweet little druid,” he professed, locking eyes with her. Her fiery gaze held not fearlessness, but bravery. 

She feared him, and it aroused him—not because of her fear, but because she was determined to overcome it and her trust in him, despite occasionally trembling under his touch.

Trembling the way she did now.

And, of course, it did wonders for his ego.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Hush—Relax, darling. I've got you,” he purred, stroking her hair back and ghosting his lips on her throat. Though, he wasn't entirely sure he did have her—if he could keep her alive. 

He wondered why Nym specifically settled on five scrolls, conveniently still placed off the side of the bedrolls. Knowing her, and the bookworm she was, she probably made up some clever calculations and wrote down her hypothesis somewhere.

He may not have trusted himself enough to maintain her heartbeat, but he trusted her enough to know that five scrolls would be sufficient, and it took everything in him to hold back his excitement.

Keeping his face nestled between her head and shoulder, he cradled her head with one hand and placed the other on her waist, gently rotating her to rest comfortably on the bedroll. He pointedly avoided looking at her face, knowing that seeing her grimace with trepidation would make him hesitate—he couldn't afford to squander this opportunity. 

He dovetailed his legs with hers, one of his knees landing between her thighs.

With a dichotomy of shame and eagerness in his mind, he bit down and began to drink hungrily, eliciting a small whimper from Nym. 

As the blood pooled in his mouth and slipped down his throat, he used all of his will to maintain peerless focus on her pulse. He could sense it with his entire being, in the way that he felt its throb on his tongue and the way her ichor gushed rhythmically out of her body and into his like a mycelium network. Not only that, but he could hear it, and feel it on the parts of his body that made contact with her’s. As a result, he could sense the strong, quick pitter-patters that always took place before he’d sink his fangs into her flesh, as well as the slow, weak drumming that it became when she’d had enough.

He could do this, he was confident.

He could sense that she was likely halfway to her limit, and their circumstance was beginning to feel erotic. He hadn’t discerned it earlier due to his inner turmoil, but the way Nym’s precious hand had started to massage his curls while her sun-like heat engulfed him was causing his member to grow hard and heavy against her hipbone.

Refusing to get distracted, he ignored his growing length and shifted his attention to the ambiance of her pulse, and indeed, she’d had enough.

Lifting himself hurriedly, he grabbed one of the scrolls as Nym lay like a ragdoll on her pillow. He couldn't help but glance at her face, to find a sleepy reassuring smile that had painted both her mouth and eyes, charmingly.

Opening the scroll, he smiled too, as he chanted the famed “te absolvo”, curing her impending exsanguination.

Before he could get lost in moral contemplation, he dove back into her in the same position as before, utilizing the puncture wounds he’d previously made. 

—Her flavour is the same as before, except sweeter? Is she becoming aroused as well?

The poor thing, she’d been keeping so still with such desirous little thoughts swimming through her mind. It was unmistakable, but still, he was sure to maintain his resolve as he imbibed.

Again, her pulse slowed and Astarion routinely detached and swiftly used one of their scrolls.

—Three more to go.

He nipped and then sucked at her tender, bruising flesh, taking greedy pulls off her lifeblood until she couldn’t stand to lose anymore, affording himself no time to peer at her expression before hastily using the next scroll.

His length was now painfully hard, and this time, he unbiddenly released an animalistic groan into her as he supped. It was almost becoming more distracting to not be inside her. But he continued to drink, pushing the thoughts away.

Until. . . 

He felt a sudden presence in his mind.

The presence felt simultaneously unknown and familiar, and he sensed he had no choice but to let it invade, as Nym’s pulse was his main priority.

As the folds of his mind slipped open, he felt an overwhelming pleasure surge through his body, accompanied by visions of himself wholly entwined with Nym.

—The tadpole.

Nym must’ve accidentally projected her thoughts into his mind; disruptive, salacious thoughts that felt impossible to ignore. However, the thoughts came and went within a few moments, jolting his attention back to Nym, whose pulse was exceptionally weakened.

“Shit.” He sat up and frantically grabbed the third scroll, chanting the incantation and embuing Nym with its magic. 

This time, Nym coughed, covering her mouth with her forearm as the healing scroll dispelled her daze. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Faint?” He attempted to finish her sentence.

She exhaled exasperatedly. “No—I didn’t know that we could do that with the tadpoles. I promise I didn’t try to on purpose,” she exclaimed, rising to her elbows with flushed cheeks.

“I know you didn’t. You’ve been such a good girl.” He crawled toward her, gripping her thigh. “I’m beginning to think this might be better—easier for us both if we capitulate.” He ran his hand up her thigh and to her folds, which he found weeping.

With upward canting brows, Nym parted her legs, bringing her knees up to accommodate his plot. She bit her lip, unsuccessfully stifling a moan as Astarion's mouth descended to her bud.

He inserted a digit, pumping into her languidly before beginning to silkily lap up her clit consistently with his practiced tongue.

Feeling generous due to the enormity of her favour, he thought it best to avoid teasing. He promptly inserted a second finger, stroking her plush inner walls with fervour as he continued his oral worship.

To this, she bucked her hips, but Astarion used his free arm to pin her hips down, halting her movements with his strong grasp without removing himself from her mound.

Nym’s chest rose and fell rapidly as she approached her climax, her body fluttering around his digits. “You’re so good to me,” she slurred between breaths.

His brows knit together at her words. Astarion didn’t feel like he’d been good to her; he felt like a leech, constantly draining her for all she was worth—metaphorically and literally. However, the part of him that hoped to be good enough for her felt traitorous to his entire being.

Was he really using her like he’d been used—subjecting her to his machinations to gain her support? And yet, when that support was passionately given, he couldn’t even accept it. He couldn’t accept that she truly cared, as if choosing to see his own Machiavellianism within her.

His dirty, tainted Machiavellianism.

The sound of her quickened pulse in her inner thigh was relentlessly beating in his ears, pulling him from his rumination.

He flicked her clit a few more times before she came, her pussy quivering around his fingers as her nectar sluiced through her swollen folds. Groaning, he pulled his face from her thoroughly cared-for nethers only to sink his teeth into her inner thigh, all without removing his slowing hand.

She tensed at first, reminding him to hold her thigh instead of her hips. 

He held her closely, forcing her to keep still on his maw as he drank and fucked her with his digits. Opening his eyes, he saw her fist grasping the blanket with white knuckles as she cried out; though Astarion wasn’t sure if it was from pleasure, pain, or both. Nevertheless, he avoided pursuing his dismantling thoughts again—focusing solely on the way her quim felt around his fingers and the way her blood pulsed on his tongue.

Finally, the incessant drumming of her pulse weakened. He abated, unsheathing his fangs before snatching a scroll with one dexterous hand and wriggling his fingers into her spongey sweet spot with the other.

He spoke the incantation hastily, and once she’d been healed, he cavalierly tossed the scroll to the side, discarding it. 

He pulled his fingers out, causing Nym to whine sweetly as she seemed to tremble from trepidation.

“Sh— I know you want to be filled—desperately,” he purred, climbing atop her, caging her between his elbows which rested on either side of her head while he keenly caressed her hair, slicking it back and out of her face. “I'm so very pleased with you, darling—my sweet, experimental little druid.” His last words came out slurred, as if he were drunk.

While he stroked her, she seemed to melt in his touch—all fear dissipating from her demeanour.

Astarion prodded at her hole with his tip before attempting to ease into her slowly; however, he was beginning to feel off-balance. He inadvertently fully sheathed himself as he toppled onto her ungracefully, causing Nym to squeak in surprise.

“Are you okay?” she asked, panting.

“Never better,” he babbled, lifting himself to his elbows again.

Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever felt better—he didn’t think a negative thought could cross his mind even if he tried. And he wouldn’t dare to try, lest he risk spoiling the moment.

Growling, he began to rut into her at a consistent pace, noting that she felt much tighter than usual—likely due to the extra blood pumping through his erection, expanding it. 

He watched her face as she frowned in pleasure, her body undulating with each thrust. Her wetness enraptured him, spurring him into a bout of eagerness. His pace became punishing, as he jerked into her with great abandon. 

Nym, in turn, began crying out in pleasure, speaking words in elvish that he didn’t understand nor care to understand as his inhibitions dwindled.

Though, he could feel his climax approaching, and he didn’t want to cum yet.

—Not like this. 

Craning his neck forward, he slowed as he instinctively tried to catch his breath, but he noticed he could only manage to take shallow breaths as if there were less space for his lungs to expand. 

He was a wreck, with his chin covered in Nym’s ambrosia and his body gleaming with sweat. His hair was no different, as it drooped and swayed, wet on his hung head.

He seated his girth within her, trying to avoid his orgasm as he kissed the unsullied side of her neck. Recalling his routine, he brought a hand to the back of her head, carding his fingers through her hair and rubbing her scalp tenderly.

“Last one, my dear,” he whispered, only somewhat coherently.

Upon hearing her whimper of assent, he bit into her soft flesh—this time, groaning raucously as he started to roll his hips again, angling them just right within her channel.

He began to feel an odd sensation within his torso, as if his abdomen was tight and uncomfortable, accompanied by the pressure in his chest. His usual post-meal clarity had dissipated; he felt foggy, inebriated—absolutely soused, in fact. 

Nevertheless, he continued making a meal of his cherished woman—

—Or. . . not my woman—the woman that's helping me, or something of that effect. He giggled internally, his smile on her throat.

However, he became frustrated as he approached his precipice unbiddenly once again. Annoyed, he growled, spattering blood and creating a mess which, to his surprise, didn’t make Nym shudder. Slowing his pace again, he snaked a lithe hand to her bud, causing her breath to hitch. Her sex was silken and pert when he began his reverence, circling her nub languidly.

She mewled words of supplication as her body tensed, her hips tilting back. Consequently, Astarion sped up his toying, as he rolled into her with lissom, pacing himself.

Then, he could feel Nym’s body clenching around his member as she came at last, crying his name like a sinful melody.

He applied pressure to her clit, teasingly, causing her to squirm on his velvet hardness and signifying her fulfillment. He always thought it was cute when the overstimulation would make her wiggle, especially when he was inside her. However, he abated, moving his hand to her hips, where he would grip her and rutt into her hungrily—finally allowing himself to chase his own release.

He was sure that Nym’s throat would be adorned in pretty, dark bruises when he was done with her. 

—She’d make anything look good, he thought, fleetingly.

He forced his final gulps as stars began to addle his vision and his pace became ragged. Fire pooled in his abdomen as he snapped his hips into Nym. Unrivalled pleasure rippled through him as he pulsed into her, filling her with his essence. He thrust shallowly as he removed his fangs from her throat, replacing his sharp bite with the flat of his tongue. 

Her pulse was steady, stronger than it usually was after his feedings.

Astarion took his time, caring for her fresh bite with his tongue, followed by his lips which he'd use to kiss her gingerly—tracing a line with them towards her mouth.

His lips connected with hers, but he was dizzy and sloppy. His teeth briefly clicked on hers while he ravished her mouth. Humming into his lips, Nym lithely wrapped her arms around him as she wriggled her hips.

Astarion bestowed one more experimental thrust before pulling out and ungracefully searching for a scroll. His vision was doubled—or tripled, he couldn't tell. He felt heavy as he roamed the side of the bedroll with splayed fingers.

“Where in the hells is the Godsdamned scroll?” He piped, slurring his words.

Nym sighed into a mirth-filled giggle. “You're three sheets to the wind,” she chided.

Astarion swung his torso to see her, but his eyes failed him, as she, too, had an identical pseudo counterpart. The world began to spin around him, and he felt like he was going to be sick.

A twinkling sound and a bluish-white light came from what he thought was Nym’s direction, befuddling him further. He swore he could see Nym approaching when he felt something cold and wet on his forehead.

“Here—lay down. It's my turn to take care of you,” she crooned, holding the back of his head.

Her voice was mellifluous, lulling him into submission as he laid back.

“On your side,” she instructed, removing her hand from his scalp. The object, seemingly ice, disappeared from his forehead for a moment, only to be returned whilst wrapped in cheesecloth or something of that nature.

“Can you hold this here for me?” She inquired.

“Anything for you—hic—darling,” he murmured, a hiccup breaking his sentence.

He fumbled his hand towards the ice, and his fingers brushed on hers before she resigned. 

“How can you be so filled with blood and still be so pale?” Nym asked in a joking manner. “Te Absolvo,” she chanted.

“Ha!” He laughed. “How can you be so kind when I’ve done nothing but—ah,” he hissed, feeling a wet cloth against his member.

“Ope—sorry! It'll be over in just a second.” She continued to wash him, before finding a new cloth to dampen and wipe his face with.

“Alrightalright—I'm not a child,” he protested, attempting to move his face from her torture.

“But you've got blood all over your stupid face,” she retorted.

“Oh, have I now? And who's fault is that?” He asked, garbling and raising a brow as he attempted to look at her. Unsuccessful, he closed his eyes again.

Nym let up her washing and placed the cloths somewhere irrelevant, but likely the hamper.

“Hmm—good question. . .” She paused. “I think the fault lies equally in both our hands.”

“By the Hells—I’m only teasing.” He pouted. “You think I’d actually blame you for that? And after ravishing you, so?” he rasped.

He felt the blanket cover him as the ice he held dripped water down his wrist. 

“Open,” she instructed, and he felt glass touch his lips. 

With a lack of inhibitions, he obeyed, parting his lips and tilting his head back. Whatever potion she was giving him smelt floral, and sharp, but its flavour was dull and slightly bitter; his ability to taste anything but blood was less than keen.

After downing a small amount of liquid, he—surprisingly—started feeling better. Opening his eyes, he saw a slightly blurry Nym, who had thrown on her poncho, smiling at him with adoration.

“Ginger,” she beamed, “one of my fancy druid's tricks.”

He blinked intentionally a few times, clearing his vision fully before sitting up and removing the ice from his forehead. “Thank you.”

Although he remained off-balance and intoxicated, he wasn’t queasy anymore. He recalled the last time he retched; It was after he drank from a rotten rat, the first thing he had eaten for weeks. It reminded him that he hadn't told Nym about Cazador yet, which gave him a sudden urge to spill his most personal secret. 

“You want to know about my master,” he babbled, without a second thought.

“Shh—tell me when you’re not drunk—or—whatever this is,” she whispered while fussing with something in the corner of the tent.

Nym spun to face him, holding a thick, weathered, brown and purple book of blank parchment as well as a piece of charcoal. “So, first of all, how do you feel?” she began her questioning, shimmying eagerly as she sat on her heels.

—Right—the experiment.

Astarion had been enjoying himself so much that he'd forgotten the true purpose of their recently concluded mischief.

“Er—dizzy, but amazing,” he responded, trying to be helpful while rubbing his eye with the back of his hand.

Brows knitted, Nym wrote on the parchment like a true specialist. It intrigued him, reminding him of his sister, Dalyria, one of Cazador's spawns who had been a doctor in her mortal life.

“And would you say that you feel full?” She asked.

Pondering his answer, Astarion tried to tune into the feel of his body. He knew his abdomen felt tight and uncomfortable, but he wasn’t quite sure if full was the right word. Additionally, the heavy feeling was becoming less noticeable by the minute.

“When we'd first finished I felt stiff and uncomfortably heavy—but now. . .” he paused, “I am less uncomfortable, I suppose.” His face contorted in confusion.

—Is this what it feels like to be full?

“Ah—so my theory was correct,” she added before putting her book and charcoal down. “Say, for example, I were to drink a broth—that would take approximately forty minutes to pass through my stomach and into my small intestine,” she explained, pulling her poncho to the side and illustrating with her finger on her abdomen. “I hypothesized that blood—if it were similar to broth—would take forty minutes give-or-take to pass from your stomach. So really it must feel like if I were to drink broth; I'd only feel satiated for mere minutes,” she spoke while gesticulating.

—Clever girl.

Nym continued her gleaning, picking up her book and beginning to write something else.

“Why did you think we would need five scrolls?” He prodded.

Still writing, Nym pursed her lips before answering his question. “Well, it was simple, really. The human body contains five litres of blood. Losing forty percent of that blood causes exsanguination, and you could probably stand to lose thirty percent without fainting—do you follow?” Nym asked, checking in.

Astarion held a finger to his chin, and his brows came together as he focused, seemingly becoming less woozy by the minute. He gave her a curt nod, urging her to continue.

“Good. So assuming you also are supposed to have approximately five litres of blood running through your veins, and the average stomach can hold about three litres of volume, and if you account for the fact that my blood that you drank last night is likely coursing through you, then you would need to consume. . .” she paused to write on the parchment.

She flipped her book to show Astarion what she’d written.

5+3-0.5=7.5

5x0.30=1.5

7.5÷1.5=5

5 scrolls for 7.5 litres of blood.

“Of course, it's all just based on estimation and assuming that you slept off around a litre of my blood from last night—which I'm starting to think you didn't. Either that, or your stomach is smaller or you have less space in your cardiovascular system than I'd guessed. There's also the possibility that you drank less than one point five litres last night.” She shrugged. “Oh well—no harm, no foul.”

Astarion was intrigued, however, he noticed that she had failed to make one crucial calculation.

“You've never seen me bleed, have you?” He asked, earnestly.

Nym's brow furrowed, her eyes narrowing as they frantically darted along the open page of her book. “No. . .”

“I thought not. We haven't been in many battles as of yet. I haven't been injured,” he added.

“Right.” Looking towards him, she nodded in agreement.

“I bleed, too—regardless of whether or not I've eaten. Blood runs through my veins, though how much of it, I don't know.” He shook his head, gazing at the floor. “There's a chance that I have less than a mortal, I suppose. That would explain the lack of colour in my complexion.”

Nym’s eyes widened. Dropping her book, she grabbed her scalp, looking down. “Agh—how could I forget to think of that? Gods, I'm so stupid sometimes.”

Astarion giggled at her dramatism, “It’s okay, but I think I overindulged more than we thought. I started feeling tipsy after the fourth scroll, so perhaps three was enough. It's. . . possible that I couldn't recognize the sensation of being full.”

“Gods—are you in pain?” she asked, pressing her palms into the ground and staring at him, concerned.

“Agh—no. Don't you worry your little head about me. You've already done so much,” he scolded. “Now, quit being so nice to me or I'll have to be nice back.” He waved his hand dismissively.

Nym paused at his words for a moment. “You're already. . . nice to me, Astarion. Did you not know that?” she asked.

—Helpless, stupid, little druid. 

He smiled wryly, condescendingly tilting his head. “I'm joking. Now, what's our plan for the day?” he asked; though, he wasn't quite sure if he was ready to move around much yet.

“Oh!” Nym beamed, clapping her hands together excitedly and causing Astarion to flinch in his addled state. “We’re going to visit Auntie Ethel!”

—Ethel? The demented old bag from the grove? he mused. This is going to be fun.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•☾☼☽•:•✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

End notes: I've nothing to say <3 thanks for reading.

[dancingtotuyo]

Buy me Books and Call me Pretty (Joel Miller)

Part 3 of Build You the World Joel X Reader Rating: PG-13 (language and some sexual content) Warnings: some sexual references, lots of fluff Tags: pre outbreak/no outbreak, fluff, craftsman!joel, 90s references and thriving, were in 1997 folks! Words: 3000

Series Master List | Author Master list

You were gone for the week, a work trip to Dallas extended for a coworker’s bachelorette party. The first time Joel was home alone with both kids for more than a night. The first time you’d left Asher for more than a weekend. And that nook needed sprucing. 

Joel had been planning it for years if he was being honest. You’d made the best you could out of it. Mismatched shelves from the thrift store, a large chair to curl up in, your paperbacks stacked and meticulously piled in overflow, your collection had outgrown the current capacity.

Joel spotted you in the corner, untouched cocktail in front of you, staring at your pager. He’d left Sarah at home with a babysitter and taken a night for himself. Picking his beer up off the bar, he walked straight toward you.

Okay, it needed more than sprucing. It needed a complete makeover. Joel had settled on the design the night before you left, the sketches filling his notebook for weeks. 

He’d almost filled the notebook you gave him with woodworking projects. The finalized project rested just a few pages from the back. 

When you first brought up this trip, he’d known this was his chance to surprise you. He’d wanted to do it since you moved in. 

“What’s a guy gotta do to be worth your time, Darlin?”

You looked almost startled to find him at the end of your table. You sized him up. Dark curly hair, big brown eyes, and the kind of ruggedness one only gets from working outside with their hands.

You glanced back down at your pager and things didn’t feel so bad anymore. Wherever this guy was, he obviously wasn’t worth your time anymore. You grinned, pager and late date forgotten. 

“Buy me books and call me pretty.” 

Joel grabbed a cardboard box and a pile of books. Best to get started while Asher was asleep and Sarah distracted. Operation Book Nook was ago. 

Taking care of two children by oneself was a difficult thing. Taking care of a curious 8-year-old and a rambunctious 2-year-old in a partial construction zone was damn near impossible. Joel estimated he was at least a day behind where he needed to be if not more. Friday it hit him, the hope of having the nook completely finished before you got home was beginning to look like a pipe dream. You were due back on Sunday afternoon. He’d just finished installing everything. There were some areas that needed a little more sanding and the whole thing needed to be stained with at least 2 coats. The stain needed to dry for at least a day before, preferably 3, before he put any books on it, preferably longer. It would probably put a damper on his grand gesture if he ruined your books in the process. There was still the matter of the project on the final page of his notebook.

The kids missed you. It was affecting their moods. Sarah had been mopey since Thursday. Asher had been downright inconsolable, attached to Joel at the hip, quite literally insisting to be held every waking moment. Asher had cried at daycare all-day Thursday. Joel had picked him up early. Joel canceled his job this morning and elected to keep him home at the very strong suggestion of the workers. He’d tucked both children into your shared bed tonight. 

Hell, he missed you too. He wanted to call you up and cry, but he didn’t. You’d called every night. Every night he told you they were doing fine, they missed you, have fun.

“Ever played pool?” Joel’s thigh brushed yours in the booth. He was close enough you could smell him: sawdust and dirt. It was intoxicating on its own. 

“I’m not very good.”

He squeezed your thigh. “Then I’ll have to teach you.”

Joel eyed the phone. He hadn’t talked to you without the kids since Tuesday. It was almost 11. You were probably out with the girls celebrating. It wouldn’t hurt to call your hotel room all the same. 

Joel set his tools down, walking over to the landline. The front desk transferred him to your room. It rang a few times and Joel was sure you weren’t there. 

You weren’t kidding when you told Joel you were bad at pool. It was embarrassing how bad you were, and you could see it on his face too. All you could do was laugh. 

“I warned you.”

“I don’t think “not very good” covered it, Darlin.”

You fought the shivers from his deep drawl. You stepped into his space. “Then I guess you have a lot to teach me.”

His hands settled on your lower back, pulling you close. “With pleasure.”

“Hello?” You sounded like you’d been sleeping.

“You picked up.” Joel sounded surprised. 

Your laugh crackled through the phone line. “I did, baby. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to hear your voice is all.”

“Two long distances calls in one day.” You smiled. “I miss you too.”

“You having fun?”

“I suppose. Melissa got us kicked out of the bar before 10. She’s plastered. Glad I splurged for my own room is all I can say.”

“Did I wake you?”

“No.” You stifled a yawn. 

“Liar.” Joel grinned, he rested his back against the wall. 

You rolled your eyes, settling back in bed. “It’s good to hear your voice too.”

“Got big plans for tomorrow?” 

“I’m sure they’ve got something planned. I don’t know if I can keep up with them anymore.” You laugh. “Apparently having two kids turns you into an old woman.”

Joel felt that familiar tug on his heart he did every time you mentioned your kids. Not singular, plural. The same one he felt every time Sarah called you mom.One would think it would go away over time, but it hadn’t. “We’ll be old together then.”

“That reminds me, we’ve got to plan your 30th birthday party.” 

Joel groaned. “Just you and me and the kids, baby. That’s all I need.”

“No Tommy?” You teased. 

“Maybe I’ll kidnap you away for the weekend. Go to the beach or somethin. Just the two of us.”

Joel’s lips dipped to your ear. “Wanna get out of here?”

Just that question had your thighs squeezing. “Yeah.”

Threading his fingers through yours, he pulled you out of the bar.  

“Just the two of us, huh?” You sighed, imagining the warm sun on your face and Joel’s tanned abdomen. “Sounds nice.”

“We could-” Joel stopped, the small thud of little feet on the stairs meeting his ears. 

“We could what?”

He glanced around the corner. Asher took the stairs one by one. A hand clutched the banister above his head, the other his blanket. His dark hair was tousled from sleep, much in the same way Joel’s did. He looked barely away. 

“I’ve got to go babe. One of our monsters woke up.”

You stretched out in the bed. You’d been excited to have a bed to yourself for this trip, but you were missing Joel’s too-hot body heat next to you. “Okay, I love you.”

“I love you too. Sleep good.”

“You too.” 

Joel hung up. Asher’s feet had just hit the bottom step when Joel scooped him up. “You’re supposed to be asleep, little mister.”

Asher nuzzled into his neck as Joel rubbed his back ascending the stairs. “Woke up.”

“I see that.” Joel chuckled, kissing his cheek. He was certain his son would be asleep in a few minutes. 

You parked your car in front of the house. Set in the suburbs, it looked cozy and not at all what you expected from the bachelor you’d followed here. Come to think of it, you weren’t sure what you expected. It looked almost domestic. Panic coursed through your bones. He wasn’t married, right? There’d been no ring, no tan line. 

Joel tapped on the hood of your car before pulling up the driver’s side.You stepped out and his hands were instantly around your waist. He pressed you between his body and your sedan adding kindling to the simmering embers in your blood. He kissed you long and slow, nothing like any one night stand before. Those were usually about taking what you needed from the other person. This felt like giving. 

Joel pulled back, thumb rubbing your side softly. “So, full- disclosure.” Joel looked nervous. Your chest tightened. “I have a daughter. She’s 3 and I have to go pay the babysitter before I carry you upstairs.”

“Oh- No wife though?”

Joel chuckled, pressing his forehead to yours, his voice sinfully low. “No wife, fiance, girlfriend.” His hand crept up your sternum, cupping your breast. “Just you, baby.” 

You would’ve fucked him right there against your car for the whole neighborhood to see shamelessly. 

He gave you a surprisingly chaste kissing before pulling away. “You can wait out here for the babysitter to see you, or you can wait in the garage.” He winked backing up the paved driveway. 

You laughed, locking your car and following him into the garage. 

“This’ll only take a minute.” He disappeared inside. 

You immediately took the opportunity to snoop around. It reminded you of your dad’s garage, tools on the wall, more no doubt filling the industrial tool boxes, messy work benches covered in sawdust, a table saw. You knew he was a contractor who did new build construction, sometimes just the framing, sometimes until the house was completely depending on the project. You wondered what he worked on here. 

The door collecting the house to the garage popped open. You hardly got a glimpse of Joel before he pulled you inside. Your back hit the door. His lips attacked yours. You cupped his face, willing him to never pull away. His tongue slid across your bottom lip. His hand crept around the back of your thigh, fingers squeezing and spreading. Desire hazed over your senses as you hooked your leg around his waist.

He pulled back and you wanted to scream. He winked at you, shut off the lights, and then picked you up, putting you over his shoulder. You yelped before slamming a hand over your mouth. It would do no good to wake up his kid. Joel laughed. “Let me get you behind closed doors before you start that now.”

Sarah was curled up in the comforter on your side of the bed. It swallowed her, the satin of her bonnet peeking up was the only cue she was actually in the bed. Joel laid down, settling Asher in beside him. 

He let out a sigh of relief as the bed began to release the pressure on his tight back. His eyes grew heavy. Asher tucked into his side. He could rest his eyes for a few minutes. 

Your heart rate was just returning to normal. Joel had tugged you back into bed before you could do the awkward shuffle of searching for your clothes and waiting for him to invite you to stay. Your limbs tangled together. He pressed kisses across your shoulder blades. “Sarah wakes up pretty early, so I’ll probably have to sneak you out of the house…” He kissed your neck, right under your ear. “But I want you to stay.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You ignored that. Now wasn’t the time to analyze it. You sighed as his fingers raised goose bumps up your side. “Your bed is softer than mine.” You nuzzled into the pillow. Your eyes felt like rocks and your limbs like noodles.

Joel chuckled. He pulled the comforter over the two of you. “Happy to hear that, darlin.” He kissed your cheek. It all felt so domestic. 

“Daddy?”

“Shit.” Joel cursed under his breath. The comforter fell over your head. “Sarah, what are you doing up?”

“I had a bad dream.”

There was a thud. Did Joel fall out of bed? You pictured him on the floor, scrambling for his boxers and fought back a laugh. 

“Can I sleep in here with you?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” Their voices drifted until you heard the click of a door. You stayed under the comforter to be sure, biting your fist to control your laughter. 

You knew when Joel’s bedroom door shut. The lock clicked into place this time. You let your giggles free. He pulled the comforter back. “So you think this is funny?” You heard the amusement in his tone.

“Did you fall out of bed?” The comforter shook with your laughter. 

He ripped the comforter off, making you gasp. “Joel, it’s cold!”

He crawled on top of you. “Don’t worry. I plan on warming you right up.”

Joel sighed wearily as he opened another can of wood stain. Last night’s brief eye rest had turned into a full 8 hours of sleep. Joel had woken up to the sun warm on his back, Asher’s foot in his face, and Sarah’s soccer game in 30 minutes.  

He’d started staining this evening, opting to get his other project finished. The wooden cube sat on his nightstand, complete. You’d bought a wood burning kit a year or so ago, burning designs into his scrap wood. You’d started selling sets of coasters to a small shop in Austin. He’d saved one of your first test pieces. It had your initials and anniversary date burned into it. You’d tossed it out. He’d fished it out, making plans to use it in a future project.  

He’d just finished the first coat of stain. Since he’d bitten off more than he could chew with this project, the first area he’d stained was ready for its second coat. 

Whether it was the monotony of his task or the hum of the radio, Joel didn’t hear you come in. You set your suitcase down in the kitchen, the music and light form the living room drawing you in like gnats to a porch light. You’d planned on covering his eyes or jumping on his back to surprise him with your early arrival until you saw what he was working on. 

Built-in, floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined the far wall, wrapping into the nook you’d turned into your reading area. The bottom half of the shelves were turned into cabinets for other storage. You couldn’t wait to relocate the stack of games out of the coat closet. 

 “Oh my god.”

Joel whipped around. He wore his ratty old painting t-shirt and a pair of work jeans, but you were sure he’d never been more attractive. 

“What are you doing home, Darlin?” He set the can of stain and his paintbrush down. “You weren’t supposed to be home until tomorrow.”

“I missed my family.” You smiled.

Joel pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to your forehead. It felt like forever since you’d been with him. It hit you. This had been the longest you’d gone without seeing him since you’d made things official.  

“I missed you too, baby.” He smiled at you cupping your cheeks like he couldn’t believe you were real. 

“You gonna kiss me or not, Miller?” 

He laughed, obliging your request. You pulled him close. The 6 days you were gone felt like a lifetime as you pulled him closer.

When he pulled back, it was too soon. You started to pout until the bookshelves caught your eye again. “You did this?”

“It’s not finished. I thought I could get it all done before you got back.” 

“Baby, it’s gorgeous.” 

Joel’s craftsmanship had improved exponentially over the last couple years. He’d always been good, but as he leaned into the craft, his skill had grown. 

You reached out to run your hand across the shelf. Joel stopped you. “Unless you want wood stain on your fingers.” He held up his hand for show. “I’d wait.” 

You laughed, giddy as you kissed him again. “I love it, and I love you.”

“Only because I buy you books and call you pretty, right?”

“And build me bookshelves.”

Joel kissed you, not planning to stop until he remembered. His heart rate rose as nerves filled him. “There’s one more surprise.”

“What?”

“Stay right here.” He said. He rushed out leaving you there. 

You started to wonder what he was up to, but were quickly side tracked by your new bookshelves. The more you looked at them, the more you loved them. He’d added the detailing you loved, the same one on the nightstands he’d built you for your birthday and the living room coffee table. 

Joel’s arm wrapped around your midsection. His warm breath tickled your ear. You leaned into him. “You moved.”

“I’m still in the same vicinity. I had to check out your handiwork.” 

Joel smiled. “Here.”

A small wooden box appeared before you. “What is it?” 

“You gotta open it, Darlin.”

Grabbing the box, you faced him. “You made this too?” A smile crept onto your face.

“I made the box.” 

The world felt like it stopped while he waited for you to open it. It felt like you knew like you were just teasing him, making him sweat it out. When you finally opened it, your eyes went wide. A gold band with 3 glistening diamonds, a modest-sized center stone with two smaller ones on either side, sat in the box, not that you could really make that out through your tears. 

Joel was already on his knee when you looked back at him. He smiled, taking your hand. “Joel Miller, what are you doing?” It was a stupid question. You knew what was happening.

“I’m making an honest woman out of you.” He grinned and you laughed. “You know I’m not good with words, darlin. I planned to be dressed a little nicer than this too. But I love you. I love our life together. I love our kids, and I think it’s time we all share a last name… Will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

And before Joel could get off his knee, you were on yours, kissing the living daylights out of him.

[deep-space-lines]

hiii I'm an anon who's a beginner artist and i would love your explanations to drawig gabriel :3c

Ok so.. I do want to help but I'm not sure how much specific advice I can offer bc I don't really have like a consistent Process? Been debating how to answer this because I don't really know how I draw him I kinda just do my best until something works

Gabriel in my brain while I'm drawing him is like 90% just A Guy. And I can't really give much advice on how to draw A Guy apart from use references (I like Adorkastock quite a bit; figure drawing sites like Quickposes and Line Of Action help a lot with practicing proportions/anatomy and getting more fluid and dynamic poses; and there's an app called MagicPoser I use on my iPad if I want to do something like more dramatic perspective and want to make sure I have everything in roughly the right place; etc)

...And for the remaining 10% that isn't just A Guy (helmet, breastplate, wings)- I'm ngl the answer is still 'when in doubt, use references' though with the caveat that 'if drawing him slightly inaccurately looks cooler then do that'. I've drawn him enough that I can usually get him down from memory at this point, but staring at his stupid little model for a few hours is the only way to get there. I don't know shit about fuck about how to get 3d models out of the game, but if you spawn Gabe in sandbox and turn on 'enemies ignore player' you can get a screenshot of him from whatever angle you need. Ngl the body pillow is the most detailed reference for his armor we have, so like half the drawings I've done of him I've probably also had that open off to the side lol. For his wings I generally use the same shapes I do for bird wings, and when I'm not feeling lazy I sneak a peek at photos of real plate armor

the only drawing of gabe i’ve got the process recorded for is an unfinished sketch, i’m not sure how helpful that’ll be but I guess it can’t hurt

[duchessofostergotlands]

Do you think you could be autistic? No hate just wondered as I am too and I relate to a lot of what you say

Oh my anonymous friend, you don't know the can of worms you have opened haha. I am going to ramble here so just be prepared for that.

When I was little my mum did actually think I might be autistic. Predominantly because I played in an unusual way. I would line my toys up on the window sill and my grandmother's display cabinet thing. I would get furious at people if they moved my toys because they all had their own spot. And the only time I touched the toys was to move them from the cabinet (their home) to the window (the school). The rest of the time I would just stand still, stare at the toys, and wiggle my fingers. They called it "zizzing" - now it's called stimming, I guess - and they knew that was a sign of autism so my mum and my grandmother did wonder about it. But I had two things going against me: I was a girl and I was born in the early 90s. This was during the peak of the idea autism was the "extreme male brain." It was seen as being predominantly a male diagnosis. You probably know that. And there wasn't much understanding so our reference point would be people like our family friend who always looked at the ground, was obsessed with trains, had limited speech and would scream if anyone tried to touch him. Whereas while my family were still thinking about the autism thing I started school and I was academically strong, I had a small group of close friends and at the time - because of the gender disparity - girls only really got diagnosed with autism if they had some kind of very obvious speech delay, they weren't doing well at school, they had no social connections with their peers at all etc. So basically everyone just forgot about it. I got called a drama queen a lot, that was it.

Fast forward to my teens and my mental health was really bad. It got worse at university because I didn't have the routine and structure of school, I didn't have my mum cooking and buying food etc. I was diagnosed initially with depression and anxiety. After a while it was clear that wasn't right so after much fighting I got a diagnosis for Borderline Personality Disorder. Now you may know this but there is an overlap in BPD and autism symptoms and women are often misdiagnosed with BPD later in life because as children their autism wasn't picked up (because diagnostic criteria is still geared towards how it presents in boys and psychologists and psychiatrists don't always delve into motivations and thought processes). I found that out in my mid 20s but thought "nah I probably don't have it, I don't have special interests and I don't struggle with x, y and z." However, my mum became really interested in BPD after I was diagnosed and did loads of research, listened to podcasts on it. And she told she was listening to one podcast where someone was diagnosed with BPD but then they discovered it was actually autism. My mum said to me that the way she described herself in childhood was exactly how I behaved, as if I'd been the one speaking. And so that got me thinking and that's where I have been stuck over the last few years. I debate with myself constantly what's going on in my brain and I truly don't know. I regularly have epiphanies where I think "oh that thing I've done all my life is incredibly autistic." But then I think maybe it's actually BPD. And I just go round and round.

I identify as neurodivergent, regardless of what diagnosis I have. Some neurodivergence paradigms do recognise severe mental illnesses like BPD anyway, but I've realised that if you put aside the BPD I still have chronic problems with ordinary tasks and situations. And I used to think it was just because I was young but I'm 31, almost 32, and it isn't normal to take 3 months to make one phone call because you just can't make yourself do it! Most people don't find it this hard to take basic care of themselves.

[from-izzy]

addressing my health and writing!!

fun fact: i'm rereading this post as careful as i can because i wrote ~90% of this post with my eyes closed!!

hi everyone!

the title of this post seems so serious but also not so serious at the same time...? 😅

anyways! this is just me updating a little bit of my health and how it's been affecting my writing.

on january 31st 2022, my psychologist wrote a letter to my school addressing that he 'has...identified that [I have]...Sensory Processing Disorder' (words quoted by the letter that was sent out). as far as i'm aware, i specifically have sensory modulation disorder.

i'll try to keep this concise and to the point. in terms of my spd in general, four of my five senses are hypersensitive with my top two being visual and hearing.

i recently just found out an important info by quite literally timing myself. i stayed in my room, lights out and in the dark for 20 mins. during that time, i did nothing but just stare at the ceiling (or i don't know, the spider that went past too) and jammed to some music. after, i started to write.

there is small time gap of 14 mins before i felt a twitch in my right eye. there is a small 1 min gap after when i started to get a headache. for me, i knew this before but i was afraid to admit it especially when i love writing so much but it's clear now that i am hypersensitive to lights.

that's why (at least, i personally feel like this) my writing quality has decreased drastically and writing errors are more apparent than ever. i get people to proofread for me but i'm really bad in asking for help so i usually just try to do it myself to the best of my abilities. the way i explain scenes have also been more boring and bland, and i want to tell you that if you think so too, you're most probably right! it frustrates me more than anything.

i'm trying to find ways to counter this or at least make the time gap bigger. i recently found out that writing in the dark, phone brightness down to the lowest helps and i was able to write for about ~40 mins before i started to get a headache. but unfortunately for my sleep hygiene, no technology should be in my room (i even moved my piano out of my room because of this) and so, i am trying to find another way.

another way i found is that closing my eyes works. fun fact: i'm rereading this post as careful as i can because i wrote ~90% of this post with my eyes closed!! yes it works but you can imagine how hard it can be.

if i can be fully honest, it's actually really hard for me to both read and write these days as well because there is no way i can make out the words without any form of light. when the headache strikes, it strikes and walking in a straight line can become difficult sometimes. the reality is that it's hard to write without reading and it sucks that i can't support anyone's work at the moment, especially when they have supported me so much (i'm so sorry to all the writers out there). there is nothing much i can do right now but to remember and learn the stories in my head as references when i write.

i'm still exploring for more ideas but if you have any ideas, do tell! i would love to try them out!

but i'm not going to stop writing! not when i have ideas to write and stories to share! it's just going to be slow and i'm planning to take it in a pace where i can handle. like i've mentioned before, i don't want to release stories that i'm not proud of.

thank you everyone for the support so far! 'double a decade' reached 100+ notes in less than a week! that's so crazy for me, thank you 😭💕

[hamcakevaletguy]

RPF Angela headcanons/scenarios with a pinch of angst because I’m procrastinating on my actual fics

(Feel free to use any of these as prompts)

(Also, sorry in advance for over explaining)

Platonic/General

Angela found out her love language is being known and being roasted for things that are unique to her (Tiny Car mukbang). She loves when people make fun of her and actively tries to make it easy for everyone to recognize her (ex: continuing to give Anthony chances to guess her on his “guess who slapped me” even after he felt her cast and didn’t know it was her, most of her top threes in Shayne guesses having joke answers to make it obvious that it’s her) because she’s not confident that any of them actually know her enough

Angela gets annoyed at how unoriginal some comments can be (in Pit Theater videos only referring to her voice or verbal typos that she makes because of her natural lack of filter/dyslexia) but still making jokes in the same strain because she knows everyone will laugh at it (ex: making typos on purpose in Patently Stupid, but also sometimes doing it on accident because she’s dyslexic) putting other people’s enjoyment over her own discomfort

Angela always laughs/apologizes after she “insults” anyone no matter how obvious it is that it’s a joke because she doesn’t want to be thought of as mean. She also spirals/immediately takes it back when she thinks she hurt someone (ex: Ian’s style in the Hot Ones: Truth or Dab video & telling Shayne he dances like a towel in the Black Beopardy stream)

Angela immediately refusing to “yes, and” bits about her not liking her coworkers (ex: staring contest stream, Shayne “she doesn’t laugh at my jokes” “omg, no! that’s so sad” & April fools smoshcast “it’s not funny to joke about” when Chanse says Amanda doesn’t like Angela) because even the idea of it makes her sick

Angela doesn’t want to just be herself on camera sometimes (her episode of Perfect Person Podcast) because it’s fine if people don’t like her characters, she can change those at the drop of a hat, but if people don’t like her as a person…

Angela’s busy all the time working on Smosh, Starkid, several sketch/improv teams, producing and starring in short films, making time to still see her friends, and has almost no time for self care. She’s constantly loading herself with caffeine to stay up because people need her (she’s a people pleaser, she can’t help it). One particularly busy month, she gets more and more tired as the days go on and no one notices until she passes out mid shoot

Romantic

(Anyone) Angela falls in love with one of her close friends/co-workers, but decides not to pursue it/speak about it at all because she wants to keep their friendship above all else (from the infamous Agree to Disagree video: friendship breakups are hard for her; she’d rather have them stay in her life as a friend than risk losing them for a chance at something more)

(Anyone) Angela’s not good at recognizing when someone’s flirting with her. She’s also not aware of when she’s flirting most times (she says a lot of things before her brain can process and fully catch up) She’s the type to not realize her feelings before it’s too late and the other person has already moved on

Sub-headcanon: At some point, most people she’s come in contact with (that’s attracted to women) have had a tiny crush on her. Her winning prom queen in high school (1, 2 Switch) wasn’t just because she was the one who organized prom; it’s because 90% of the student body was in love with her. (She was in a performing arts middle school and high school. Most of them were probably bi theater kids. You’re telling me that the most popular kid at that school wouldn’t be Angela? The same Angela who was part of the student council, is an incredible performer, very friendly and enthusiastic about everything, and attractive to boot?)

[intrepid-creations]

Okay so ..... I'm still working on the thing that I'm doing (sorry I'm like on night shift number 3 and coherent thought is not my forte at this point. But vibes are. And here are some vibes.) The thing I'm doing is more than this sketch of Eivor. It's Eivor and like a ton of other people and Soma weaving them all together like a Sami band and look it'll be done eventually.

But I just wanted to kinda give a bit of an idea about my process.

Which I can only sum up as:

Internal screaming and wondering what I'm doing with my life.

First ... sketch the thing.

Like ... I'm getting better at poses. And by better I mean about 90% of the time I still need to trace over a ref photo to figure out how the fuck the human body functionally moves. Because I never went to art school and I didn't get to stare at naked women (or men) to do anatomy drawings.

Second ... Cry in a corner

Decide how I'm going to shade this thing. Because I could go either of two ways - "color" in the line art as all white and then subtract to shade... kind of like how you'd handle shading a regular sketch. I tried that.

And what I got was something I'd describe as: Actual Disney Princess Eivor fuckin' Varinsdottir. Which while she collects enough goddamn animals to qualify as one - it was not what I was going for here.

So I move to step 3:

Look up an absolute fuck ton of references on lithographs and shading on lithographs (which ... quick definition: they're like hand-made prints. You sketch the thing on a block of limestone with special ink or whatever, then you can use that to make a ton of prints - but basically ... you have to do a lot of interesting things with shading. Look it up to know what I'm talking about. But if you've seen like tarot cards or even US currency - that's the kind of shading I'm talking about.

First ... I edit the hell out of the reference to really get the contrast up and make it grayscale. Helps me find the highlights and shadows.

Hej there sexy.

Anyway - got the ref down. Now spend the next like three hours doing the shading. Or really ... it's just coloring in her face but like with a bunch of lines and shit.

And voila...

She looks like she belongs on the $1000000 bill.

Still not even REMOTELY done with this but I'm tired, it's almost noon, and I'm still on night shifts so I really need to go to fucking sleep. GOOD NIGHT.

[hexfloog]

Hiya! I was thinking about the remastered animation Cel style evil Conan post you put up recently, and I just wanted to say how amazing and impressive it is! I love love love the look of old animation and you really nailed it. I’ve been trying for ages to mimic that look myself and haven’t been able to crack it, so if you ever wanted to talk about your process on this piece, I’d be all ears! Wonderful work, again!

Waaah hi liv!! Thank you, I'm so glad you like it, and that it comes across so convincingly!! One of my favorite things is to make digital art that can have a second life as a different medium, and I wish I had an easy answer for you as to how I go about doing that, but the truth is that it's mostly the result of a lot of trial and error. And a metric ton of references.

Here's a quick process video of my last piece to try to show off what all my layers are like, but I know it's mostly useless without an explanation!! I can't explain it all because I was kinda winging this one for funsies but I can give you general tips for this particular look.

Clip and words below the break!

As a disclaimer I didn't really go into this one intending for it to come out looking the way it did. So it's more of a hybrid look between my usual "clean" digital rendering and a fake screenshot.

[1] Reference, role models, and inspiration - I'm not kidding when I say I used to tote around an entire, dedicated folder filled with printed reference. These days that usually takes the form of about a million browser tabs (￣▽￣) I stare at early Detco and the first six movies a LOT. And Cowboy Bebop. And Akira. And and [insert your choice of 80s-90s anime film]. Depending on the exact look you're trying to replicate, you can always look to a more era-appropriate movie.

I love pulling inspo from films in particular (both animated and live action) because cinema is a whole other art that employs all kinds of techniques for our usual considerations (like lighting and framing), and looking to them can inspire some pretty poignant imagery, especially when you're trying to create something that's meant to mimic a single-frame capture of exactly that. I don't keep up with movies or anything, but I do have my favorites, and it didn't really occur to me to look to them until some of my favorite artists revealed that they do the same with theirs.

For this particular piece, I also had to establish some consistency with the other piece that bookends the scene, so I actually referenced my own art, too.

[2] BIG canvas! I usually work at two or three times the size I expect to export. Following standard aspect ratios for animated productions can help sell the look. Letterboxes have their own ratio, too, if you choose a widescreen canvas; and subtitle fonts are usually standardized to certain font families and colors since their primary purpose is to help make the media accessible. All this is usually a quick google search away, OR… if you're like me, and you still watch physical media… you can just yoink most of this from a real DVD.

[3] Thin lines!! I still can't quite nail the right line weight for these-- I definitely went too thick here-- but they tend to be very fine. And imperfections are good! Nobody has a perfectly steady hand, especially with traditional cels.

[4] Less is usually more when trying to sell a screenshot look… it's easy to over-ink and over-render and-- in my opinion-- restraint is necessary to sell it. This is the hardest thing to explain… it's design vs. rote emulation, I think. But that said, digital aids (next point) do a lot of the heavy lifting in these - as far as the art is concerned, a little will go a long way! These were some of my easiest lines and shading. So on that note…

[5] …Blending modes, masks, and filters are all your friends o___o I get a lot of mileage out of the default tools already available to me in the art software. There's plenty out there that's available for free, too! I recommend you find a fake anime screenshot tutorial, follow it once, and just go nuts when you get to the part where you can play with these settings. The make-or-break for a convincing screenshot-- in my opinion-- is texture and bloom, and all these digital tools will help you achieve that.

I hope this helps!! Hopefully the video can help you see a bit more of the process since I can only really offer tips. It shows everything at full size so you can see the details, so go nuts!

Thank you for the ask! Beaming plenty of good luck that you can find the look you want!!

ALSO I REALLY HOPE THIS IS THE PIECE YOU MEANT I'M LITERALLY ABOUT TO QUEUE THIS UP AND JUST REALIZED THE ONE THAT CAME BEFORE THIS IS MORE REMASTERED CEL ANIMATION LOOK SKSKSKSK

the same tips apply though so i hope they still help all the same :3c

[dubiousartiste]

Feel the POWAH!

I've been following an artist named Aaron Blaise for the last few weeks and I've really enjoyed learning more and more about his process and how to make the most out of my brushes and art style.

One thing that you quickly notice with Aaron Blaise's works is that he LOVES to draw big cats, especially leopards and cheetahs.

Since I've been staring at those references for a while now, I decided to draw my own as a Primal Tabaxi Sorcerer.

I took some inspiration from the magic in The Dragon Prince and decided to make this character be empowered with fire magic and channel through the powers of the sun as a Pyromancy Sorcerer.

I like the idea of a pseudo-elemental mage that is almost like a Genasi through magical means rather than inheritence. Though thats just me spit-balling ideas.

What do you guys think? :D

!!COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN!! Full Body : $90 - $120 Half Body : $60 - $80 Portrait : $40 - $60

!!COMMENT OR MESSAGE TO GET YOUR COMMISSION STARTED BEFORE ALL SPACES ARE GONE!!

[passerine-writes]

Silent Sparks - Volt 91

Warnings: Trauma talk, insomnia, Dadzawa bonding time!! Word count: 3418

Notes: Italics - Tsukare signing Bold italics - Family member/friend signing 'Italics with apostrophes' - Thoughts

Masterlist

Volt 90 | Volt 92

"Holy shit." Hitoshi mumbled after I explained what happened.

"Wait, Aoyama left a warning?" Pops asked and I nodded.

"I can't figure it out and it's eating at me. I know I read about it too!" I exclaimed, dragging my hands down my face. "I read about it in middle school." I said after seeing two of the three confused.

"I already asked him about it. The random facts will never stop." Dad surmised and I nodded.

"I can list so many right now but not that! I can tell you that scientifically speaking, jellyfish shouldn't be alive, that spiders technically don't have brains, sharks don't have bones, some lipsticks contain fish scales, rubber bands last longer when refrigerated, if you sneeze too hard you can fracture a rib, but I can't remember what the proverb originally tied to!" Everyone stared at me with wide eyes and I groaned flopping onto my back. "This is making my head spin around in circles." I said while rubbing my eyes. I slowly sat back up, meeting everyone's wide eyes again.

"That could also be because you've been awake for over forty hours." Pops reasoned and I looked at him in disbelief.

"I didn't even realize it'd been that long." I said under my breath as I counted the hours. "Well shit. Oh yeah, Toshi, why did you react the way you did when Yoru came for dinner a few weeks ago?"

"I didn't like his attitude and cockiness. He gave the vibe of 'I was his brother first' and it rubbed me the wrong way. Doesn't matter when we became brothers, we're brothers and that's what matters to me." He said earnestly.

"Damn."

"Before we get ready for bed, is there anything else any of us need to talk about?" Pops asked.

"I uh," Hitoshi started, hesitating as his voice got caught in his throat, "I think I want to try going on antidepressants." He said it so fast I had almost missed it.

"Okay." Dad said casually, making Hitoshi visibly break mentally.

"Okay?" He asked cautiously.

"You're old enough to weigh the pro's and con's on your own. In all honesty, Sunshine and I have been wondering when you would want to start them." Dad explained, watching as Hitoshi processed his thoughts. "Is there anything in particular that sparked you wanting to start them?" I noticed Hitoshi starting to curl in on himself, hunching over to rest his forearms on his bouncing knees.

"My depressions been getting worse, and I knew I had to say something before it got worse again. I uh, I started getting thoughts. Not serious ones. The passive ones that Hound Dog and Recovery Girl told Onryo and I about. I know I won't act on it, but I want to stop it before they become serious." He explained and I felt my heart sink to my stomach.

"We can talk to Hound Dog at your next therapy session and have you referred to the old lady for med checks and whatnot." Hitoshi nodded a little and wiped a hand down his face. "How long has it been getting worse?"

"I thought about a month ago, but now that I'm in a clearer state of mind, a few months. Probably since Kamino." He said, his body shaking with a sniffle. "I couldn't get to Onryo in time. I was so close and I can't help but think that if I just moved a little faster or I had my capture weapon, I could've stopped it from happening." I scooted forward and pulled him into a hug. "I didn't want to say anything at first cause I thought it was just another depressive episode and it would pass. Then I started getting more and they started lasting a little longer, but I didn't know how to bring it up. I guess it's similar to Onryo's concerns. I know how much you both have on your plates and I didn't want to overwhelm you both even more."

"Little listener, you shouldn't worry about that. We are always going to worry about you and your brother. It's part of being parents." Pops said to him through his teary eyes.

"I'm sorry. I'm really trying to do better." Hitoshi said.

"We know." I said reassuringly. "You're doing the best you can and that's more than enough." He sniffled again and nodded.

"I think medication would be a good idea." He stated.

"Okay." Pops said. "Then we'll try medication and go from there." We all nodded and sat for a moment, still processing the conversation we just had. "Let's get the couch set up and relax. It's been a long day for everyone."

We all agreed and got the couch set up. I sat against some pillows in the corner and grabbed my laptop while a movie played on the television. I clicked on the search engine and started scrolling, hoping to find what I was looking for.

I clicked on link after link, hoping something would lead me to what I had found several years ago. Minutes easily turned into hours until Dad reached over and closed my laptop. My head snapped towards him reflexively, so focused that I didn't even see him reach over until the illumination from the screen immediately cut out.

You need to at least try and sleep. You'll remember when you remember.

I'm not tired.

Okay. Then what do you want to put on?

I don't know. I'm thinking about making something to eat though.

I'm hungry too. We could go to the 24 hour diner in Shimada.

What's the catch?

Catch? Who said anything about a catch?

You're offering for us to go to the 24 hour diner at almost three in the morning. There's a catch.

I want you to try opening up. I don't care what specifically it's about, I don't care how much you tell me. All I care about is that you try.

You're despicable. Using my love of that diner against me. Okay, fine, let me go get dressed and try to figure out how to get rid of my eye bags and dark circles.

He nodded and watched me quietly walk out the door. I made haste getting back to my dorm room, changing into a pair of ripped jeans and a black shirt with a decently thick, classic, red and black flannel. I grabbed my old tube of concealer and patted a little around my eyes, blending it out to the best of my ability. It felt weird seeing myself less exhausted, but I was content with the fact that it somewhat worked and tossed on my black boots along with my hearing aids.

"Ready?" Dad asked as I snuck out of the dorms, not wanting to wake any of my classmates. I patted my pockets quickly.

'Phone, keys, wallet, case, hearing aids.'

"Yep." We got in his car, usually we would take the train there but I think we both realized that taking the train back would be cramped with the morning rush of workers.

The car ride was quiet and relaxing, I stared up at the stars through the window. Looking at as many of the eighty eight constellations as I could.

"Looking at the stars?" Dad asked.

"Yeah. It's harder to see them though with the light pollution from the city. One of these days I wanna go out to Hyogo or the edge of Okayama to look at the stars. There's such little light pollution, I bet they're really bright out there." I said softly, enamored by the burning orbs millions of miles away.

"They probably are. So Sunshine and I were talking, we were wondering if after you turn sixteen if you'd like to get your permit." My head shot towards him with my growing excitement.

"Wait, seriously?" He nodded and I couldn't contain the smile growing on my face. "Yes! Hundred percent! Absolutely!" I said in excitement. "Is Toshi finally going for his too?"

"He hasn't expressed wanting to get his but we were thinking about asking him if he's thought about it." I nodded along to his words. "Do you still want to get your ears pierced?"

"Yeah, I really like how they look and want to get them done. Thankfully the stigma behind them is starting to die down. I don't really believe in it anyways." He hummed and glanced at me.

"I see my disliking for conforming to societal norms rubbed off on you." I chuckled softly.

"Yeah, but also, I'm a ginger. Been surrounded by those since I was born."

"True. I'm just glad you don't feel confined to them. Is there anything else out of the normalities of the country that you want to have in the future?" He asked.

"I definitely want cartilage piercings. Maybe a tongue piercing too. Oh! And I want tattoos!" He hummed and nodded his head as I spoke.

"Maybe that'll be your present for your eighteenth birthday. Just, please, when you do get tattoos, don't get anything abhorrently stupid. Like curse words, or inappropriate body parts." He said, clearly perturbed about me getting them.

"You don't have to worry about it. And I won't be getting any face tattoos either." He let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

"Okay. I'm glad we're on the same page. How would you feel about piercings being part of your birthday present?"

"That works." I told him and he nodded.

"We're here. So let's get a table and get something to eat." I nodded, almost bouncing as my seat as I waited for him to put the car in park. Excitedly, I rushed over to the door and waited impatiently for him to get inside. He sighed and took his time, sluggishly walking over to where I held the outside door open. He reached over my head once he caught up and opened the inside door.

"Aizawa? Tsukare? Haven't seen you two here in quite some time." The hostess, Ikeda, said as we walked in, she was always here for the graveyard shift. "Go sit wherever you'd like and I'll be right over with some menus." Dad and I happily walked over to the booth we normally sat in.

"Here ya both are. Regular drinks to start with?" She asked as she put a menu in front of each of us. Dad and I both nodded and she typed a few words on her tablet. "Black coffee and let me check that I got this right, it's been a little while, a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and chocolate syrup?" I nodded with a large smile. "Okay, I'll be back with your drinks in a sec." She said happily.

"When was the last time we were here?" I asked Dad, blanking on just how long it'd been.

"I think after you and Hitoshi took your entrance exams. You two were both stressed over the results not being in yet so I took both of you here one night." He told me and I stared at him in disbelief.

"That was in like, February. It's really been that long?" I asked him, shocked that it's been eight months. He nodded and turned his attention to the menu and I did the same, my eyes already set on what I wanted.

"Here ya both are. Are you two ready to order?" She asked as she sat down in a chair from the table beside us. Ikeda was always personable with everyone that walked in here, we'd seen it multiple times.

"Uh can I get an order of the kakuni manju?" I asked while I put a straw in my milkshake.

"Absolutely, and what can I get for you Aizawa?"

"Just some udon please." He said quietly and I happily took a sip of my milkshake. She set the tablet on her lap after punching our orders in and leaned forward a little bit.

"You've grown up quite a bit since the last time I saw ya, Tsukare. How's school goin'? Any more fights?" Ikeda asked teasingly.

"No, no fights. I'm over at U.A. in the hero course." I told her.

"Sonus, right?" I blushed a little and nodded my head. "Knew that was you when I saw the news. What else is new with ya?"

"I have my first boyfriend." I told her shyly, blushing like a mad man.

"Good for you, hun!" She said happily, a genuine smile on her face. "It's a shame I can't try and set ya up with my daughter anymore. She's 'bout your age." I laughed a little bit and tried to stifle it by taking a sip of my drink. "What? You're a good kid, strong set of morals, clear head on your shoulders, you'd be a good influence!" She defended her statement on it, her Hyogo accent heavily coming out.

"Thanks, Ikeda."

"So, what's he like? Is he treatin' you good?" She asked with a pointed look.

"He is, he's amazing. He's patient and kind, he has an amazing smile and beautiful hair, he knows right away when my hearing aids are out and does his best with it. We have a lot of the same interests. I feel comfortable and safe around him." I told her happily, indulging in her impromptu boy talk.

"And do you approve of him?" She asked Dad and he sighed.

"He's a good kid, so I'm trying to warm up to him for Onryo's sake." Dad begrudgingly told her.

"Well, I'm glad to hear you're happy, sweetie. You deserve to be. Now when did you get them fancy things in your ears?" She said, not passing over my comment about hearing aids.

"Probably five or six months ago." I told her, watching her face soften a bit.

"How ya holdin' up with it?" She asked sincerely.

"It was an adjustment at first, but with my quirk I always knew I'd need them one day. It was more of an adjustment for my friends, I think. We have dorms now, so after class my hearings aids are usually out, if I'm not wearing them there's only so much I can catch in large conversations." She hummed and nodded.

"That sounds like a pain, hun. How are you adjustin' to it? It must be a change for you and your other son. Speaking of, where is he?" She turned to my Dad.

"It wasn't a large adjustment for me. My spouse is hard of hearing, too. And Hitoshi was sleeping, this one couldn't sleep and we were both hungry, we figured we would come here." He answered, careful with his wording about Pops.

"Well that's a shame, kids missin' out. So tell me, what's UA like?"

We talked for another ten or so minutes before another customer walked in and she excused herself.

So, what to do you want to open up about?

Preferably, I wouldn't, but a deals a deal. I took a long sip of my milkshake to buy time. I opened up to Bakugou a little about Kamino.

How did that go?

He brought me up to the roof to talk one night and he told me that was my chance to let it out so I might stop having nightmares about it. Solid effort before the raid. I told him what Toga did.

Do you want to tell me about that?

Not really, to sum it up, there was a lot of blood and she turned into Shiroka at one point. I'm mad at myself more than anything. I feel like if I was stronger then none of that would've happened.

It wasn't your fault.

But-

It wasn't your fault.

I told them to take it out on me. How is it not my fault?

You didn't ask to be kidnapped. You just didn't want Bakugou to get hurt.

Everything from earlier has me concerned. Why would he leave a warning?

I'm not sure. He might just be able to tell tensions are high in the world.

I don't trust him.

I never said you had too.

Do you trust him?

He's one of my students. I'm required to have some sort of faith in him but I wouldn't call it trust.

Do you think it could be another way to get attention? I hate to phrase it that way, but he lives to be in the spotlight.

Could be a possibility, I suppose.

"Here ya are. A bowl of udon and a plate of kakuni manju. And let me top that off for ya, sweetheart." She said, reaching over and filling up Dad's almost empty coffee mug.

"Thank you, Ikeda." Dad said.

"Anytime, hun. I'll be back to check on y'all later." She said sweetly and I dug in right away, happily sighing at the amazing taste.

Do you think I should open up to Denki about what happened?

There's a question I never thought I'd hear. Why do you ask?

Well, cause, you and Pops and Toshi and even Bakugou knows what happened. I know he's curious and it's because he cares and he can see how much it effects me and I don't blame him for that. Even if I can bring myself to talk about it and tell him, I don't know if it would be a good idea. It would be me telling my boyfriend about how I was tortured mentally and physically for almost three days.

Your Pops and I were together for about a year when your Uncle Oboro died. I didn't open up about it to him for almost a whole year. I didn't know he died, I was convinced that he was still talking to me. Cheering me on as I fought. I blamed myself for a while. It was the only time I didn't believe Sunshine, then I saw the body bag and it felt like part of my heart stopped pumping blood. I felt crazy. So, tell him when you feel like the time is right. If he doesn't have it in him to wait, then he's not worth your time.

Thanks Dad. And you're not crazy. I think your brain just didn't want you to feel it yet so you would stay alive. And I'm sorry, if I brought back any flashbacks when I radioed in to the school when I was trapped.

You don't have to apologize for any of it.

It made me realize I don't want to die anymore. I'm not ready. I was scared, of losing you and everyone.

You're still here. That's what counts.

After we finished our food, we talked for another hours or so, even as the sun rose and shined brightly through the windows we talked. A ghost of a smile appearing on Dad's face when he checked his phone, I already knew who it was.

"Ready to head home?" He asked and I nodded. He paid and left a tip, the two of us walking out to the car. We sat in it as we waited for it to warm up. His phone started ringing after a moment and he picked it up, looking at it confused. "Rock Lock is calling me."

"Put it on speaker! I wanna hear! Please?" He sighed but obliged, answering the phone call and putting it on speaker.

"Hello?" He said tiredly.

"Hey Eraser. I gotta ask a favor." Rock Lock cut in on the other end.

"What's your favor? And so you're aware, I have Onryo with me and you're on speaker." I rolled my eyes jokingly at him taking my fun out of it but he shot me a look.

"That's perfect actually. I was callin' about your kid, I'm at a loss and the cops are too, can I borrow your kid?" He asked.

"I'm sorry, would you like to rephrase that?"

"Can ginger come down to the scene and tell us if we're missin' anything? Like I said, we're at a loss and after the raid, I trust his judgement and he has a different way at lookin' at things." Dad looked at me and we had a silent conversation.

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Send him the address and details to save time on you briefing me."

"Heard that, see ya soon kid." Dad ended the phone call and put the car in gear.

"This should be fun." He sighed.

[lewiselder]

dude your arm sucks!

we back!

it’s been about a year since the last post. i’m consistently averaging about 1 post a year. that’s a lot, right? 

hope this blog posts finds ya’ll well. not much is different in my life besides everything. ralph has gotten ever cuter, sweeter, and nicer. random anecdote but i actually did some 1v1 sessions w/ a dog trainer, but ended up cancelling the remainder when i started to freak out and realize i loved his personality and didn’t want it to change. moral of the story: abandon therapy and become your absolute worst. 

anywayyyyy - i’ve had 2 very arm-core things happen to me in the past few weeks. bad news for me is good news for ya’ll. i get my day ruined and ya’ll get something to read on the toilet in between actively giving yourself adhd by watching misinformation on tiktok for 90 minutes. 

*whispering* actually, i kind of like when this crazy shit happens to me bc i get to write about it and feel ~special~ :^D

today, we’re gonna cover the first story. i hope to be consistent enough to write up the other story soon. no promises. 

Dude, your arm sucks!

picture this, it’s mere weeks ago - fathers day 2023 - beautiful, scenic sunday weather. handsome clouds with chiseled jaws and just the right amount of buccal fat hang expectantly in a baby blue sky. i’m in a wifebeater with a mullet. 

as ya’ll surely know, i grew up without a dad (as did most of my friends shout tf out to ya’ll) and so i obviously don’t do anything special for father’s day. on this particular father’s day, my friend and i were going to go for a nice walk with ralph, but first we decide to stop by the starbucks next to my apartment.

my friend runs in to order the coffees. i stand outside with ralph, leaning against the side of the building. 

now i’ve heard a lot of words in my 30 years. i’ve heard them put together in all sorts of combinations to form all types of sentences. smart sentences, dumb sentences, long sentences, short sentences, sentences about crypto even. but i was about to hear a sentence i’d never heard before. 

from out of absolute fucking nowhere i hear, 

“dude! your arm suuucks!”

lmao

what

i look up from watching some instagram story of someone i’ll never see in person again for the rest of my life even if we both live to be 1,000, to see a tall, skinny dude standing next to me. his mouth half open, half smiling

i’m literally standing in shock, mostly perplexed and processing, my tiny golden dog who has some of the worst dog anxiety on the planet quakes beneath my feet. 

“what?” i manage to spit out through a half laugh

“dude yeah man, your arm sucks!”

i stare at him like:

if i recall correctly, he introduced himself as Rick at some point during this interaction, so i’ll refer to dude as Rick (have you ever said the name Rick to yourself like 5x? that can’t be a real name. it’s barely even a sound. rick. rick. rick. rick. rick. yeah get fucking real bud)

rick: “nah man see that’s just how i approach life. we gotta just be upfront with one another and then we can move forward from there. like now we’ve addressed it and so we can move on”

PLEASE NOTE: rick was not as well spoken as i am making him sound. while this is largely accurate, i’m paraphrasing from memory. pls add in 70% more incoherence to whatever i say he said  

and i gotta hand it to rick, he was hilarious. it’s awesome pseudo-intellectualism filled with ersatz empathy.

me: O_O

rick: yeah man like look, my leg used to suck 

*rick pulls up one of his pant legs, exposing the lower half of his leg*

now i can’t tell ya’ll his leg didn’t suck bc it definitely fucking sucked but it looked normal to me, albeit gross and dirty

me: bro pull your pant leg down lol

rick: *pouting* fine, but im just saying now that we got it out of the way we can be friends on a real level

me: i don’t think friendship is in the cards for us man. bro i need you to keep it moving

i should mention that, while this is a lot of text, this is maybe 20 seconds of real life interaction, and at this point it becomes clear to me that rick is at least semi-homeless and likely not totally together mentally. this colors strongly how i interacted with him going forward, because idk man what am i gonna get into a fist fight with a houseless dude who is likely high or drunk rn?

sensing my withdrawal from the conversation and my waning interest in friendship, rick resorts to an especially strange move. 

rick: nah man lemme get a real good look at it and we’ll get through this

rick bends down and puts his face maybe 6 inches from my arm, his bloodshot eyes wide as dinner plates

me: *recoiling* alright man see now im really about to beat the shit out of you if you don’t get the fuck on 

rick (as if i just lit a firework during a fancy dinner party): woah fuck ok man, fine. trust me your legs are as big as my waist, i know you could beat my ass. but i might be able to out run you in a straight line spring *chuckles to himself* but obviously you’re a strong guy

at this point, rick starts walking away still kind of talking about how i look strong. he opens the door to starbucks and heads in. he’s their problem now. 

mind you, starbucks is packed so it’s taking forever for my friend to get the drinks. 

maybe 40 seconds later the door to starbucks flings open

rick is back, baby!

“would a cigarette make it up to ya?”

me: lol brother i don’t smoke

rick: yeah me neither *lights cigarette in his mouth* 

we stand there almost shoulder to shoulder like old lovers who’ve run out of things to talk about but just like to enjoy each others company

rick: man you know what show my kids love?

me: what show rick

rick: inspector gadget man, you ever seen it?

me: yeah man that’s pretty old, i’m surprised that’s still on

rick: yeah they love it. you know who you remind me of? Dr. Claw. he’s the villain but he’s a badass. his arm sucks too. 

me: rick...

rick: im just saying man like obviously this shit has just made you tougher in life man. you’re jacked man, i hope my kids grow up to be like you

me: rick, brother, its fathers day, shouldn’t you be with your kids

rick, speaking more to god than to me: *softly* it’s fathers day

me: i’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess their mom has custody

at this point it’s felt like rick and i have been on this island together for a fucking eternity. seasons have changed, wars have risen and subsided, babies have been born and gone to college and decided to hit the snooze button on life by then going to grad school. 

i’ve literally had relationships shorter than this. not that i don’t enjoy talking to my old buddy rick, but man what i wouldn’t give for him to walk away, or for this starbucks to blow up, or for me to be assassinated. something, anything. 

FINALLY, my friend comes outside with the fucking coffees

she walks up to us perplexed

me: alright man i gotta go now 

*i start walking away*

rick: *smoking his cigarette that didn’t make it up to me and following us as if we’re all in the world’s worst band headed to practice together* aw yeah see now we were just talking about how his arm sucks and -

now i can’t have this fucking dude come walking with us, and i’d mostly been a good sport to him up to this point with the exception of when he tried to do a gynecological exam on my left arm

me, turning and getting into ricks face: ok i’m seriously gonna smack the fuck out of you if you don’t walk away right now

the 2nd threat seemed to do the trick. 

rick muttered some random shit under his breath before finally using his formerly sucky leg to saunter off back towards starbucks.

good night, sweet prince

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

I should say that at no point was I really going to fight Rick. He was clearly unwell, but the only way to really get him to leave was to threaten him. During the entirety of the interaction I was more amused and annoyed than mad (save for when he bent down and put his face in my arm). 

It did however bring me back to a place I spent the majority of my time when I was younger. My experience growing up disabled was one fraught with the preservation of what little pride I had. When I felt someone disrespected me, the overwhelming sense of obligation to do something about it (fight them, argue back, whatever) was one of the strongest driving forces of my formative years. And to be honest, feeling as if you have to fight and claw for the sense of pride most able-bodied people get to inherently enjoy is a tremendously heavy burden to carry. 

One of the reasons I so relate to people who have some type of outward presenting marginalized identity, whether they’re Black or Brown or disabled or non-gender-conforming or whatever, is because it’s such an insanely specific experience to have people come up to you and say the absolute wildest shit possible. And they expect there to be no consequences from their actions, which is such a motherfucking frustrating dynamic to experience. It’s hard to explain to someone who’s never gone through it. 

Anyway, that’s pretty much it. I haven’t seen Rick since. I do wish him the best, as I know he had good intentions. And while him and I ultimately weren’t able to enjoy a Newport together like he wanted (but Rick doesn’t smoke), he did give me an interesting story to add to the collection. 

All in all, not my worst father’s day.

if u read this far i owe u a cigarette

[phoenixyfriend]

ok. karin vs anakin's genome being 50% the Force. go

Jesus fuck, okay. Uh, fair warning, I know very little about this subject, so it’s 90% bullshit. I am in no way qualified to talk about biology past the high school level.

Anakin's sixteen. He's part of a set of Jedi assigned to a weird mission regarding making contact with an isolated planet of near-humans with superpowers but no space travel. He doesn’t really have a Job here and now, he’s just there as Obi-Wan’s plus-one. There's an underlying plot about Sidious trying to acquire people from Ninja Land, but none of the Jedi are fully aware of it. Mostly they're distracted by all the ninjas and their bitching.

They call it the Shinobi Planet, because nobody can agree on a name for the planet when they ask and the last major international alliance was named after the shinobi profession, right? Good enough, you can change it later when you idiots can agree on literally anything, oh my god. The Samurai are very offended and it's a whole thing.

Anakin wanders a lot. He runs into various strange people and is mostly polite because, listen, half his friends are distinctly not human. When your immediate circle includes nautolans and besalisks and twi’leks and whatever the fuck Yoda is, you’re not gonna blink at a Hoshigaki or... uh... okay that kid just turned into a giant fox, is anybody gonna--no? That’s normal? Just him? Cool, cool, cool.

There’s a kage summit involved in the negotiations going on. IDK what’s being negotiated, probably something to get the ninjas to set up a singular spaceport so there’s somewhere to land WITHOUT ships being regularly shot down by village defense systems powered by that massive flaming purple skeleton warrior or the girl who punched down a mountain or the.. the literal desert? There’s a guy that can control the desert? Is there any way of keeping him away from Anakin?

(Gaara’s tickled pink that the reason someone wants to stay away from him has nothing to do with fear or respect for authority, and everything to do with ‘he is also from the desert and fucking hates it, so he’s staying away from the sand powers,’ because it’s very novel and kind of funny.)

ANYWAY where was I. Uh. Right, kage summit, lots of villages, they invite smaller villages to pitch in, but nobody ever ever ever wants Orochimaru anywhere near this situation, for hopefully obvious reasons, so Otogakure sends Karin.

Really, who else was it gonna be? Suigetsu? You want Suigetsu representing you on an interstellar political field? You want Juugo before he’s stabilized? You want Sasuke, master of ruining kage summits? You want these idiots representing you at the big kids’ table?

They send Karin. She’s a bitch with a temper, but at least she’s not as big of a political risk as... literally anyone else from the snakepit.

Anyway, Anakin wanders around, meeting people, trying foods, showing off when asked for demonstrations. He doesn’t have an Entire Protocol Droid, but he did cobble together a little floating helper that can do translations for him. Assume all translations are accurate and being done by the little helper bot. Bot’s name is G1-0T. Anakin calls it Glot.

He runs into Karin at one point, who’s not super into the whole situation, but at least Anakin’s interesting. She’s not interested in him, because he’s sixteen and she’s like... mid-twenties. And his hair is stupid. But! All these force-sensitive people feel weird to her, because sensor stuff, and it’s not chakra but it’s... something. Anakin is, of course, the weirdest.

(There are non-sensitives in the envoy, so she knows it’s not just a space thing.)

She strikes up a conversation about it, because hey, she hasn’t made it this far to not lean into... you know, being the kind of person who barges ahead with Weird Questions that might lead into fun science stuff.

Anakin is like. Well. This woman’s very strange, but it’s not like there’s anything against talking about midichlorians to random people. It’s easy enough to look up in the core. Not everyone knows about them, but it’s not a secret or anything.

“Wow,” Karin says, though not in so many words, “that sounds incredibly strange, and actually a lot like it functions completely differently from chakra, though maybe it intersects with nature chakra somehow. Can I take a blood sample?”

Anakin doesn’t want to give a blood sample to a stranger. Karin isn’t stupid enough to try to steal one. She’s seen what this Force Stuff can do, and this kid’s got a lot of it. She hasn’t got enough information on hand about it to know if he’d notice.

“How about I let you look at the blood of a guy that can turn into water?” Karin asks, because she’s not going to let him look at her blood. “I’ve got it with me.”

“...why?” Anakin asks, reasonably disturbed.

“He owes me,” she says, and does not elaborate.

“What, there’s nothing weird about your blood to share?” Anakin demands, like the ornery little bastard he is.

“People took my blood against my will for over a decade,” Karin says, with the kind of smile that threatens a stabbing. This is not secret information. Her healing factor is in the bingo book. Plenty of people still want her dead. “Nobody gets my blood except me.”

Anakin has no idea what to do with that answer. Most people wouldn’t know what to do with that answer. It’s not exactly a standard answer.

“So there is something weird about your--e chu ta what the fuck are those scars?”

Karin looks at her arm. She looks back at him. She raises an eyebrow.

“What do you think they are?”

He stares a little longer, and then very carefully does not say anything as she pushes her sleeve back down.

“So can I look at your blood?” she asks again.

“Uh--”

“You can look at mine under a microscope,” she wheedles. “You can’t take any, though.”

Anakin... does eventually agree. Eventually.

-----------

There is a very angry redhead yelling at a machine, and Anakin does not know what to do.

“Is something wr--”

“What the fuck is your blood?” she demands. “It’s glowing in ultraviolet. It burned the dye up. I tried to sequence your genome--”

“Woah, I did not agree to that.”

“--and look at this. Look at this!”

“I don’t know how to read your graphs. None of this is a language I know.”

“It’s garbage,” she hisses at him. Glot takes a few moments to process it. “Look at this. This is supposed to--fuck, where’s the Jiraiya file, he’s standard--this is what it’s supposed to look like for most humans with chakra. And this is a civilian, and a few bloodline users--”

“Do you just carry these around with you?”

“Shut up, you don’t exist. You have--you have more in common with summons than people. I ran a blood test on one of your human diplomats, the ones that aren’t monks--”

“When did they agree to that?”

“They didn’t, I’m just sneaky.”

“I should tell Obi-W--”

“STAY THERE, I’M NOT DONE YELLING YET. Do you see this? Do you see this shit? This is the one and only time I’ve managed to perform any kind of analysis on a bijuu. They don’t usually have blood. Shukaku is sand. Matatabi is literally just fire. This was almost impossible to make happen, but I did it because I’m a dedicated biomedical resea--”

“Because you’re unhinged.”

“--rcher, and you know what? You know what I’ve found?”

“What?”

“Your blood looks like you’re half demon,” she says, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking, a little wild-eyed and clearly pissed at him. “Half of it’s human! Half of it looks like the non-physical chakra manifestations that were torn-apart remnants of a godlike demon. The fuckers can’t die. They also can’t breed. They don’t have reproductive organs! This isn’t just demon-tainted like a jinchuuriki, I’ve got that analyzed--”

“Why?”

“Because my cousin’s a moron, don’t change the subject. You--you shouldn’t exist. Your blood is stupid. Fuck, is this what I’d find if I analyzed the Sage of the Six Paths?”

“The what?”

She ignores him, frowning at papers. “Is--I need to call Haruno, she might still have some of Kaguya’s blood dried on her old gloves from the war, I know she kept those as a souvenir from the whole ‘punched a god’ thing.”

“I’m sorry, the what?”

“There was a thing a few years back, godlike alien demon princess who got sealed into a moon by her sons a thousand years ago, but her immortal sentient goo child brought her back with a giant tree that consumed all the tailed beasts-the flaming fox you saw earlier is one of them--and then used a giant eyeball to reflect off the moon to put everyone in a hallucination at the same time so she could eat our life-forces,” Karin dismisses. “It’s not important.”

“There is--what?”

Jedi see many things. Many of those things are very strange.

This is a little much even for Anakin.

“It’s over, if you want the actual details, talk to my idiot cousin,” she huffs. “But now I need to run comparisons between the actual nonsense that is your entire existence and the actual nonsense that is my cousin’s existence, and maybe Sasuke’s... fuck this is going to be a mess, I’m going to have to cross-reference all the clans with bloodlines we know are derived from Kaguya, she’s the only angle we have on gods like that, unless... maybe there’s still some black Zetsu goo somewhere... Orochimaru must have kept a sample...”

“Uh, can I--can I go? I’m not comfortable here.”

“I need to find Naruto so he can call the Sage of the Six Paths out of the afterlife so I can see if I can get blood from a ghost to compare to yours.”

[realcube]

haikyuu!! boys when your ex hassles you in front of them 💢

characters:  suga, sukusa, atsumu & oikawa

tw// harassment, exes, swearing, gn!reader, he/him! ex, sexual references

thank you for the cool request, anon!

Kōshi Sugawara 

i don’t think he knows what your ex looks like-

why would he?

so when your ex approached you on the street and started asking you a bunch of intrusive questions about you, while pretending that sugawara  wasn’t even there

suga just stood there 🤠

well, he did that for a while until your exes’ questions started getting uncomfortably personal

but suga tried to be subtle about it bc he thought the guys was one of your friends pfft

i mean, why else would you just start talking to a random guy in the park?

‘uh, hiya. i don’t think you should be asking questions like that.’ he chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back his neck

then, he felt your hand discreetly slip into his own and give it a small squeeze so he took that as a sign that he was doing something right

but then..YOUR EX JUST WENT BACK TO TALKING AS IF SUGAWARA WASN’T EVEN THERE 

he didn’t even spare poor suga a glance smh smh 

:O 

he was livid

!! how quickly he went from fanon to canon suga 

‘HEY YOU CAN’T JUST KEEP ASKING (Y/N) WEIRD QUESTIONS WHILE STAND HERE AND WATCH! FUCKING STOP !!’

geez you weren’t sure whether you should be the one frightened or not 

both you and your ex just kinda stared at him like ◉_◉

until your ex finally broke the silence by muttering something along the lines of ‘we’ll catch up later’ then bolted off 

suga then went back to being all smiley, as if nothing just hands, gently swaying your intertwined hands back and forth as he guided you in the opposite direction

‘are all your friend like that?’ suga inquired, lightly tapping the back of your hand with his thumb

‘that wasn’t my friend - just an ex.’

ok good bc now the little bit of guilt that was bugging suga had washed away and was replaced by a sense of pride 

Kiyoomi Sakusa

sakusa pretends like he doesn’t care about your exes but in reality he has all their legal names, schools, addresses and weaknesses memorised 

also he’s hyperaware of what’s going on so he probably notices your ex before you do 

so he does everything in his power to match sure y’all don’t cross paths but his efforts were in vain as your ex finally sees you then proceeds to try and greet you

at that point, sakusa will literally just grab your hand and swerve the guy tbh

that must be quite embarrassing for him but let’s say he’s persistent enough to try talk to you again

sakusa would make some of the shadiest comments in hopes to scare him off

and his blood is fkn boiling too so it probably comes off his tongue rather sharply

‘is this your stalker, (y/n)?’

‘he’s quite short’

‘what business do you have asking those kind of questions?’

‘weirdo.’

‘i have places to be, (y/n). let’s go.’

that last comment would prompt your ex to offer for you to spend the rest of the day with him so sakusa could go to his ‘places’

but that was the last straw for sakusa tbh

he just drags you away at that point

and if you mention how defensive he was acting, he’ll definitely blame it on the fact you looked uncomfortable but in reality, he was mad as hell too

Atsumu Miya

you’d mutter something like ‘oh, it’s my ex..’ before the guy approached you and atsumu would just leave y’all to chat while he went on his phone

but then he began to notice how weird and personal the guys’ questions started to become and how uneasy you looked

he didn’t want to be uptight so he’d probably try to act pally with your ex to kindly get him to stop 🛑

‘hey, man; uh, me and (y/n) need to go but this has been mad fun. talk to you later - love the hair, by the way.’

atsumu spun around on his heels and gave you the eyes 👀 which you knew meant that you should follow him

you did so, but then you felt your ex grab your wrist to hold you back, yelling something like ‘wait!’

.........

atsumu karate chopped his wrist so he’d let go IVZBZSRTIUGSH

he doesn’t know his own strength though sometimes so your exes’ wrist was lookin... kinda mangled

and he let out a cry of pain which wasn’t a good sign

‘fuckin run-’ atsumu whispered in your ear before taking off 🏃‍♂️

Tōru Oikawa

as soon as he realised that he guy trying to talk to you was your ex-- oikawa didn’t even let the guy get a word in lmao

he was too busy making feisty remarks and cruel comparisons

but they’d never be directly towards him, he’d whisper the snide comments in your ear but loud enough for your ex to hear

‘oooh, is this the guy you were dating before me? what a shame.’ 

‘you seriously upgraded, didn’t you?’ (please agree with him or else that’s gonna be pretty awkward)

‘i can tell your taste in men has improved greatly’

‘it’s small, isn’t it?’

‘i feel so bad for you, (y/n).’

‘is this the one that you said you had to fake orgasms for?’

‘why is he still talking?’

it would reach the point where your ex has to choice but to back off as the insults got harsher 

honestly, you barley even processed anything that your ex just said as 90% of your attention was focussed on stifling a chuckle in response to oikawa’s little commentary 

‘you’re so mean sometimes, tōru.’

oikawa quirked at brow as he looked at you with a perplexed expression, did he hear you right? i mean, he just saved your ass from your ex yet you were calling him mean? didb’t he des--

‘and i love you for it.’ you hummed, pressing a kiss on his cheek

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

Chapter 2 - Show Time

2.8k words

Synopsys: The name of the series is super random, don't mind me. Reader is a postgraduate student at NYU, made a docuseries on her research, and the show got picked up by Netflix. She goes on a press tour and meets Tom on a ‘chat show’. They get together and she decides to stay for a few days in London with him. This could be an amazing few days or more? It’s been interesting writing how they’ll deal with distance and tight schedules once ‘honeymoon’ is over...

Heads up: my first language is Portuguese, so that might explain some things here - of course, I wrote thinking about myself hahaha

Warnings for the series: mention of illicit drugs, angst caused by distance, smut (next chapters, very explicit), anxiety caused by paparazzi, and rude random people taking photos.

Other than that, this is just my guilty pleasure writing so lots of caring sweet Tom and fluffiness.

Chapter 1 - A new city

Chapter 2 - Show time

Chapter 3 - Unexpected texts

Chapter 4 - A new day

No extra warnings. A lot of it was adapted from the real interview, so you might wanna watch it again before reading this, for refreshing. The docu-series doesn't have a name, so you can imagine your own favorite subject.

HEY THERE EVERYBODY! MY NAME IS TOM HANKS AND IT IS MY GREAT PLEASURE TO SAY WELCOME TO THE GRAHAM NORTON SHOW!

You walked down the corridor led by the stage assistant, but you could already hear the cheering and claps close by. “Don’t worry. There’s a monologue and then he’ll introduce you guys.” She smiled at you. You smiled back. Nervous smile.

“I think I need to poo.” You said.

“What?” She stopped and looked at you.

“No. I don’t really need to poo. I’m just really nervous.” You said. She definitely thought you were in way over your head.

“Okay, just wait there and you’ll go on stage when he calls your name. Frank is there to signal, don’t worry. Good luck!” She said and turned back running.

“Ok. Thank you!” You shouted after her but she was already gone.

“Shhh!” The other guy with a headpiece, Frank you assumed, shushed you.

“Sorry.” You whispered. You looked to the side and Jake Gyllenhaal and Tom Holland were talking. Jake was taller than you imagined. Tom was shorter.

“Oh don’t worry. You’re the star here, you can do whatever you want to.” An older voice said to you. He was obviously joking. You looked to see Tom Hanks. You smiled and nodded. God, please don’t let me freeze from starstruck now. Please.

“Ehh…” You’re pathetic.

“Hi!” Said Gwyneth Paltrow to everyone in the dark zone, having just arrived after you. Everyone responded excitedly.

“You guys are on. On my mark.” Said Frank pointing to Tom and Jake. They looked at you and said hello but you could barely answer before hearing Graham Norton’s voice going:

HES THE OSCAR NOMINATED STAR OF BROKEBACK MOUNTAIN, NIGHTCRAWLER, AND DONNIE DARKO. PLEASE WELCOME JAKE GYLLENHAAL!

And Jake went up the small flight of stairs. The curtains opened for a while and the sound got really loud and everything went bright. You took a look at Tom Holland and boy was he hot. He was looking at you too. You smiled and he smiled back.

HE’S YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD SPIDER-MAN. IT'S MISTER TOM HOLLAND!

“See you out there.” He said and walked out. You barely had time to process anything when Frank pointed at you and said: “You’re next”. You were still trying to remember how to walk when you heard:

SHE’S THE PRODUCER AND STAR OF A BRAND NEW NETFLIX DOCU-SERIES. STRAIGHT FROM NEW YORK: MISS (Y/N)!

Up you go. You walked out and Graham Norton went to greet you. He went for a kiss on the cheek and you went for a hug. Great. Off to a good start. He laughed it off and showed you the couch where Tom and Jake were standing in front and clapping. You went for a kiss on the cheek this time with both of them when you greeted them.

“Hi!” You said casually. Graham was speaking and soon Gwyneth was standing by your side. She greeted you and the actors by your side and then there was only Tom Hanks left. His introduction was longer and the cheering was way louder. But you weren’t surprised by that. This place was massive. There are so many people here. Way more than you’d think by watching from home.

“We met backstage.” Tom Hanks said pointing to the other guests on the couch.

“You all chatted backstage. I went backstage, I didn’t see the two of you. Nor you (y/n). Where were you guys?” Graham asked.

“We were there” Jake said.

“We waived” Tom said.

“Yeah, I- I was late.” You said laughing a little.

“Very suspicious. I bet you were having your own private party with your entourage.” Graham said making everyone laugh.

“Welcome all! Welcome all!” Graham went on to start the round of interviews and apparently, Tom Hanks was the first topic. You just smiled and laughed along, copying the way Gwyneth Paltrow was sitting and concentrating to keep your posture straight. Once in a while you would laugh and moment by moment you were getting more relaxed, even touching thighs with Tom accidentally when you laughed.

…

“I started recording Woody in 1991.” Tom Hanks said.

“Guess who wasn’t born then?” Graham said and both you and Tom raised our arms laughing.

“I was having sex I think, by 1991.” Gwyneth said.

“And so were our parents.” Said Tom gesturing between you and him. Everybody laughed.

“He probably meant his mom and his dad and my mom and my dad. Separately.” And everyone laughed even harder.

“Ok. We painted a picture now.” Graham said.

“You never know, it was a crazy time back then in 91” Jake added making everyone bust out laughing.

…

“Now, our newest guest tonight is the beautiful (y/n). This is your first time in the show!” Graham said looking at you. Oh boy. This is it.

“Yeah! This is crazy. Thank you for having me! And my first time in London!” You answered, blushing a little by the claps and cheering from the audience.

“Now, of course, (y/n) you’re the star and the producer of a documentary. The new Netflix series everybody is talking about. Have you guys seen it?” He asked the other guests.

“Absolutely! It's so good! I loved it!” Tom Hanks said. You stared at him like he just said the most absurd thing, and then Gwyneth said:

“We loved it! It's so different from everything we’ve seen out there.” She complimented you. You put your hands together and bowed your head in gratitude.

“I started watching it today when I knew you were coming here, but everybody is talking about it! It's so good! I wanted to binge-watch everything but then we had to come here.” Jake said.

“Own! Thank you, that’s very sweet.” You said.

“What about you Tom Holland? Have you seen it? Or have you guys met before? Because you have the same age, isn’t that right?” Graham asked him, pointing between the two of you.

“I was the one who told Jake to watch it! I must have seen it twice already!” He said laughing.

“What? Twice?” You laughed.

“Yeah because every time someone’s watching it if I’m passing by, I’ll just sit down and watch along. And all my friends decided to watch it now, it’s like some fever, I don’t know, it’s just really fun and you actually feel smarter binging it!” He said making everybody laugh along.

“But did you guys knew each other already? Because you sure sound like a fan!” Graham teased him. Tom shook his head no and you answered first.

“No…well, I know you. I definitely know all of you. But we’ve never met.” You said vaguely, trying to change the focus from you and Tom. But Graham was on a mission.

“Are you sure? Because the two of you weren’t seen early on backstage so I’m just wondering…” He said cheekily.

“I was late today! It was quite not British of me, I know, but we were very late so I didn’t get the chance to say hello before. Sorry, everyone” You said apologizing to everybody on the couch who waived and laughed politely.

“That’s quite alright. Thankfully you’re not British so we won’t punish you. Well, maybe we’ll leave that to Tom later if you’re into that sort of thing” Graham said making you and Tom very much embarrassed.

“These 90’s kids are crazy man” Jake added making everybody laugh.

“Anyway, we have a clip for you guys.” Graham announced.

[CLIP FROM THE SERIES]

“That’s so great! By the way, I introduced you saying ‘from new york’, because the show was taped there, but you’re not really from NY are you? You’re actually…uh… from (your city/country)! Is that right?” Graham asked you and the rest of the cast looked at you interested.

“Yes! That’s right. But I’ve been living in New York for a good while now so, that’s ok.” You answered.

“You’re getting your PhD, isn’t it?” Tom Hanks asked you.

“Yes, the show was part of my research, actually. I’m surprised you know that.” You said.

“Dude, I told you to pick up a book once in a while. Jake said teasingly to Tom, who just laughed and shook his head looking down.

“You guys are making this so much easier to me. Thanks!” He said sarcastically. Now it was your turn to get embarrassed.

“He’s right though, you might wanna step up your game here cause she’s both smart and beautiful. Do you speak…how many is it? 5 languages?” Graham stepped in.

“Well, I mean…sort of, yeah. I guess.” You answered kind of embarrassed for being in the spotlight, but glad it was about your brains and not looks.

“And the show is so good! I’ve seen a critic saying that is (your reference) meet Humans of NY. In a good way! Where the idea came from? Did you always wanted to film a tv show?” Graham asked you.

“Well, first of all. Thank you for the compliments and I’m truly honored by the comparison to (your reference) and Humans of NY, because I truly watch and admire those projects, so they’ve definitely inspired us. But uh…about filming a TV show, I guess not. I’m researching (your subject of preference). But I’ve always loved to, you know, get in there and get ‘my hands dirty’, I wouldn’t want to write about something I haven’t experienced. So I got to know so many incredible stories and amazing people. I followed their routines and there were so many great plots…I just couldn’t let that go. And I’m really glad I didn’t. It’s like we’re highlighting the extraordinary in the ordinary. I’m really glad people liked it as much as I did because it would have been really heartbreaking if nobody cared, I guess.” You laughed. Everyone was staring at you in awe. You got really excited when you were talking about this project. Maybe a little too excited.

“How did you do that by the way?” Gwyneth asked you.

“Did what?” you said.

“Get them to care about it. To give it a shot.” She explained.

“I’m not sure. I think there’s so much noise out there. And everyone is just competing for our attention, but they don’t always have anything to say. And these people have so much to say. To teach us. I just tried to show that.” You answered honestly.

“Well, thank you for that. And not jinx anything, but I have a feeling we’ll be hearing a lot more about you too. Any new projects coming soon?” He asked you.

“Uh…not really. I’m just living in this high for now, I guess. But it really has already opened so many doors, I’m very grateful for that.” You answered honestly.

“And your boyfriend must be really proud too" Graham asked teasingly.

“No, no boyfriend.” You answered suspiciously.

“Ah! Of course.” He winked nothing discreetly in Tom’s direction.

“So there’s a chance Tom! You might want to pay attention to this next one. Gwyneth Paltrow! What is this I hear about vagina steaming?” Graham continued making everyone bust out laughing.

…

The show went on and soon, the topic was Tom again. “I was making a film with Doug Liman, in Montreal. And I was playing a real tough kid and he asked me to grow as much facial hair as I could.” Tom told everybody. You just looked very closely at him, because his face was very much hairless.

“I think we got a picture.” Graham said. And then everybody was laughing out loud.

“(y/n)? Is your heart won yet?” Graham teased. You just laughed.

“Oh come on! The kid’s got better moments! You got to give him a chance!” He teased some more.

“Oh man! What is going on with this show? I swear I did not put him up to this!” Tom said looking at you and you just laughed awkwardly.

“It’s true! I did!” Jake said laughing and then got up to high five Graham.

“You know, if this wasn’t going so badly I’d ask if my mom put you up to this. Cause she’s the only other person I know who’s so focused on getting me matched.” You teased.

“You think its going badly?” Tom asked and the crowd “aww” loudly. Silence and some laughs.

“Right, moving on.” Graham joked and everybody laughed. You were feeling a little awkward, especially because you did not want him to think you weren’t interested, just not while in a tv show. But you can’t get things mixed up. This stuff is new to you, but you’re not some schoolgirl. Focus on the job. Stormzy was singing now, so the show must be almost over.

…

“Oh this is wicked! I was really happy when I saw you’d be here!” Stormzy said when he sat on the couch.

“Me? Wow! Really?” you asked him, surprised.

“Oh-oh looks like you got competition Tom Holland” Graham joked and Tom just laughed and shook his head.

“Well cause your show is just really cool” He said to me.

“Wow! Thank you for saying that!” You couldn’t believe this, someone from all across the world liked something you did. You’re going to get emotional.

“You know that we live really close to each other?” Tom asked him.

“Is it? Where do you live?” Stormzy answered and the conversation went on.

AND THAT’S IT FOR THE SERIES! IF YOU’D JOIN ME NEXT WEEK FOR A LOOK BACK AT SOME OF THE HIGHLIGHTS OF THE PAST 12 WEEKS. WE’LL BE BACK IN THE AUTUMN, TILL THEN HAVE A GREAT SUMMER! GOOD NIGHT EVERYBODY BYE BYE!

This was becoming routine now, but there’s no other way to describe it other than to say that you loved and hated every minute of it. Well, at least it’s done now. The lights went out and when everybody stopped clapping and cheering the producer approached you guys and said you were taking a picture. Graham went for the back of the couch and everyone snuggled a little closer. Tom put his hand on your thigh and you instinctively looked at it. “Sorry.” He mumbled and took it off. You just smiled and shook your head lightly. After some pictures, you made sure to thank everybody and say how much of a fan of them you are. When it was your turn to talk to Tom he said laughing: “Sorry about that whole thing” You could tell he was uncomfortable.

“No, common! He was playing with us. Well, you more.” You dismissed.

“Yeah! It was fun though. Had a great time, it was great to meet you!” He said politely.

“You too. Love your movies! Can’t wait to see the new one.” You offered and heard someone calling your name.

“Right this way Miss.” The stage assistant called.

“Ok, so…bye! Good luck on growing your facial hair!” What. You. Idiot. He just laughed it off. And touched his chin.

“Right. I’ll try my best. Thank you! Good luck with (your research subject)” He said back.

“Alright, thanks” You had to go, the stage assistant was getting impatient. “Bye Tom.” You offered your hand and he hesitated a bit before taking it and shake.

“Bye (y/n).” He said.

David was already waiting for you down the small flight of stairs. “That was really great! Congratulations!” He hugged you.

“That…wasn’t bad, right?” You said. “I actually had fun.” You completed while you two made your way to the little room where you did your makeup and hair earlier.