#anyways. am trying my best to draw the others wish me luck

[girletho]

trying to tie down my designs for hermits this is harder than being a marine

[kosmicdream]

I love manga and comics, but I gotta say. So many of the series i have found most influential to my work either won’t finish, have not finished, or finished in a sort of unsatisfying way. Even if they’re fine, its usually not like.. IT. This is a pretty common experience. I have had a lot more luck watching movies that have endings that felt worth the experience and I’ve started to try to read in hopes to get more exposure to “good endings”.. But i do wish it was more common in my favorite medium to like, have that experience! Even when the endings are pretty good (and there are some, i personally think “paradise kiss” had a great ending that makes me return to the series multiple times over the decades) - I also am like.. I dunno. Its never the highlight of the story, you know. Its not the main reason why you’d read it, is the ending. I would assume most stories across all mediums, the ending isn’t going to be the “best part” anyway. However, after finally finishing watching UTENA earlier this year, I can say that at least for that series (no movie spoilers pls, i still havent seen it ;n;) the ending was in fact, the best part to me and made the entire experience even more memorable and worthwhile to watch. Months later, I’m still kinda amazed that happened! Wish it was not so rare, but also what a treat to get to see something like that felt like what i think an ending to a story should be. Still not a manga/comic ofc, but y’kno. Still good.

Other strong endings for me were: Paradise Kiss (as I said above), There will be blood, Monster, NGE (specifically end of evangelion) … umm!  I don’t know.. Is that really it for me? I like the 98’ Trigun end, but i also hated it as a teenager. So its more of a “nostalgic” one to me, same with Princess Mononoke. I’ll include those just for the sake of having more to think of. There’s plenty more i am fine with and enjoy fine enough.. but i guess its a lot harder for me to find ones that last in my head as what i find to be a satisfying & impressive end.. Of course, endings are all based on taste. Maybe i just haven’t seen enough endings. I think this contributes, along with a plethora of other elements, why writing endings are so hard! There’s just a lot you want to say and it is such a long journey to get there anyway. You are filled with doubt with your executions of ideas, or maybe find the ending you thought of less satisfying than you used to think it was. The longer you spend with something, the more you might find issues. Plus, it really is so hard just to get there. You’re usually falling over with exhaustion just to get to the finish line, let alone do the ending of your dreams. I know when i get to the ends of my chapters, i’m usually so desperate just to get there, i end up feeling like they come out poorly vrs my vision for them. 

Yes.. i have been thinking about endings a lot. Its just something that’s always on my mind, with NRD nearing its close. It still is going to take time of course, but as I revise the last chapters I’m still like left with a lot of feelings with wondering how it’ll come out, if i can even do it, ect. I know i will, its inevitable. But after that, well, my big struggle with FFAK will continue. I know that NRD has given me more tools to handle a series as long as FFAK, but its still getting older and it can be harder to understand all the things I wanted to say with it, what I still can say with it and what is the most valuable to say with it. I can’t do everything! And i certainly have more ideas for it than I could draw, I’m excited to have the story close too. Before it used to make me too upset to even think it i’d cry.. But now i’m like yeah! I wanna know too. I want to share what I thought of, even if its not what readers might have thought it was going to be like. Honestly, with every choice i make in the story, i always have had at least 1 or 2 other options, and I get attached to the other versions of the story that i dont get to make. They all end up very different ends, but still more or less the same story regardless. 

Anyway, just some thoughts on writing and comics today…

[this-is-krikkit]

Hey Sunshine 💕

You can't imagine how sorry I am that you lost all these gems you wrote 😭 Fate as deprived us of so many amazing Levihan fics & kisses 🥺 I really hope there's a way to get them back 🤞🍀

Seeing the last prompt list you reblogged (soft fic) I couldn't resist requesting 26 Pyjamas for Levihan or Erurihan because of the headcanons we talked about the other day based on this beautiful fanart 😉

I hope writing something new will cheer you up a bit!

Sending love & hugs 💕🫂

hey Val ♥️ as you know, i did get my wips back!! your good luck wishes seem to have worked haha

thank you for sending me one of these soft prompts. inspiration took a while to come for this one, but then i stumbled upon this post:

and i knew i had your fic. hope you enjoy! ♥️

The Momentum Principle (read on ao3)

Words: 2566 Fandom: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman/Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman & Nanaba & Erwin Smith & Mike Zacharias & Hange Zoë Characters: Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Mike Zacharias, Nanaba (Shingeki no Kyojin) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - College/University, Best Friends, Unrequited Crush, Canon Non-Binary Character, They/Them Pronouns for Hange Zoë, SNK Veterans - Freeform, and they were ROOMMATES, (oh my god they were roommates), no beta we die like that vine ref SIKE IT'LL NEVER DIE, pretentious titling because that's how i roll

Summary: Studies show that staying awake for over twenty-four hours has similar effects on the human brain as having a bloodstream concentration of alcohol way over legal limits. Biology major Hange Zoë is aware of that fact. Sadly, they’re also aware that there are finals to pass, and not enough hours in a day to study for them.

Hange frowned at the page before their eyes and clicked the table lamp off and back on, ignoring the annoyed stares the repeated and ineffective gesture got them from the students around –served them all right anyway, they mused, when they’d all been regularly stealing Hange glances they didn’t even bother to try and make discreet all morning. But something other than being ogled at like a circus freak was making it hard to decipher the words in front of them, though they couldn’t put their finger on what exactly. The world around them had been seeming especially bleak lately and even more so today, which wasn’t unusual during the intense studying marathons they famously put themself through with finals drawing near, but they couldn’t recall a time where it had actually impacted their already damaged eyesight; and the persistent, pulsing ache tracing along their temples sure wasn’t helping.

The most rational part of their brain offered stress and weariness as culprits, and Hange had to admit they couldn’t easily dismiss either of those. The cramming schedule they’d been imposing on themself may have gotten a little out of hand in the last couple of weeks, so much so Hange couldn’t even remember the last time they’d set foot in the living room to share homemade dinners or play board games with their four roommates like they usually would during cold winter evenings. They hadn’t even partook in early morning idle chitchat or occasional evening drinks on their way home from the campus library, not when they’d been consistently arriving right on opening time –they’d been pulling all nighters more often than not, anyway, and felt too restless to stay home and wait for the others to get ready– and had become the last student to leave it at night.

Hange closed their eyes for a minute as they let their head fall forward, rolling their neck and shoulders and relishing in the satisfying crack their muscles and tendons sighed out at the stretch. If only their brain could gain knowledge through osmosis via that simple contact between their forehead and over-highlighted textbook; if information were to be solutes, then, considering how little they’d efficiently memorized lately, it would flow right inside their lowly concentrated head without a doubt. They smiled at that absurd reflection, giddy with the realization that hey, they’d apparently managed to remember some things from those hellish Introduction to Fluid Mechanics lectures.

That unexpected sense of comfort was short lived, however, when they were hit with a wave of the increasingly familiar nausea their self inflicted sleep deprivation never failed to bring. Hange opened their eyes to fight the dizziness and took deep breathes in and out, silently counting up the right inhale to exhale ratio –simultaneously urging their body to hold up for a little while longer.

Two weeks, they pleaded. Just two more weeks and I can take a break.

Seven long sleepless days and nights of tensed cramming, followed by a week of nerve-wracking and hopefully mostly accurate square ticking in reply to more often than not purposefully confusingly phrased questions, and then they’d be free to hang out with their friends and be a, well, not exactly normal, but close to normal young adult again.

But the thought saddened more than it motivated them, and they had to consciously stop themself from looking around to see if they could spot any of the three blondes they’d come to think of as family. Erwin, Nanaba and Mike all had similar exams to take soon and the spacious library had filled in by whatever time it was now, so they would no doubt be within these four walls. Sundays usually involved morning revising, followed by strictlynon-academic plans everyone would have previously agreed onfor their common weekly afternoon off.

Hange winced at the pang of loneliness they felt when they realized they actually had no idea what their closest friends would be up to later. It only got worse when they remembered that Levi, who they’d been trying not to focus any thoughts on as those were proving more and more distracting these past few months, hadn’t tried to coax them into coming along this weekend like he’d done since they’d started studying more intensely. Hange had noticed Erwin’s surprised glances and Mike and Nanaba’s barely disguised teasing laughs when he’d started doing it, and they couldn’t really blame any of them –after all, that initiative from Levi had been a drastic switch from their previously established social roles.

Lost in memories of Levi’s techniques to get them to go out, which had mostly consisted of an association of almost threats and intense glaring until they would caved –which they hadn’t, amazingly– it took them a minute to notice the hand upon their right shoulder.

“Get up,” a familiar voice whispered up close, startling them.

Shit. Think of the devil.

Levi had also been pestering them about taking an actual break, on top of the Sunday festivities they’d been avoiding, but up until now their shared roommates had acted as enough of a buffer that Hange had been able to pretend they hadn’t noticed his nagging messages in the groupchat or pointed stares near the laundry machine.

“I’m fine right here,” they said cheerfully, pretending to focus on their textbook again and turning the page they’d been staring for a while without managing to actually read a word of it.

They weren’t sure they could get up, really, not without betraying their exhausted state to their closest friend and having to admit just how shitty they’d been at taking care of themself lately.

They swallowed back a shocked yelp as hands seized them up and pulled them to their feet anyway, and they caught themself on the table at the last moment to prevent the inevitable fall that would await them if they really were to put all their weight on their knees right now.

“What are you doing?” they asked through gritted teeth, unable to glare back at him as the head rush made dark spots dance in front of their eyes. “Let me go, I need to study.”

Levi wordlessly –and annoyingly easily– tore them away from their spot, half carrying them until they were both standing in front of one of the nearby arch windows. Hange muffled their protesting squeals out of some remnant of respect for the nosy judgmental students around, even though they knew Levi’s powerful glaring would probably prevent any of them from protesting at the noise of their struggling in the otherwise religiously quiet space.

And then they looked up and caught sight of their reflection.

And shamefully realized they could have given their curious peers the benefit of the doubt and hypothesized there might have been a valid reason behind all the curious looks they’d been getting all morning.

Hange was wearing their long sleeved purple octopus pajama top, the buttons ridiculously mismatched, with unmatched green cat-patterned pajamas bottoms –that they realized with a quiet gasp were probably Levi’s and not theirs, now that they were noticing the pants ended well above their ankles. There wasn’t one but two hair ties failing to hold their greasy matted hair up and away from their face, and their goggle-shaped sunglasses were hanging crooked on their nose with the rubber band twisted on both their temples –which finally explained part of their lingering headache, and why it was so challenging to read.

“What you need is to go home, Four Eyes.”

Tears sprung to their eyes before they could stop them, and for a minute they only stared at their shiny mirror image in quiet puzzlement. These weren’t tears of shame even if, as used as they were to being unconventional and to other people’s reaction to their self expression, this accidental pajama-in-public incident was definitely an all time new low for them. Exhaustion could have played a role, and the dark circles under their eyes as well as their paler than ever complexion easily spelled it out for them.

But mostly, Hange felt guilty. Levi had tried to mask it, but his voice had wavered over his own nickname for them, like he felt pained at seeing them in this state, and he couldn’t quite meet their eyes when that was his main tool to get anyone to comply to his requests.

“I don’t think I can,” they replied honestly.

His now openly worried gaze finally met theirs in the glass in front of them and he frowned, opening his mouth to object.

But Hange shook their head slowly in defeat.

They weren’t arguing with him, they were simply stating a truth.

They knew they must have taken the bus to get here, but they honestly couldn’t remember any part of the journey –hell, they couldn’t even remember putting shoes on, although they were glad they’d thought of that at least. They didn’t think they had a key to the apartment on them, as they usually resided in the deep pocket of the wool coat they’d forgotten to put on even before going out in this freezing winter weather. And practical issues asides, they didn’t actually trust themself to actually make it home in one piece right now, not even in the middle of a bright busy morning in the city and to their place that really wasn’t that far off campus.

Levi narrowed his eyes at them before nodding once, sharp.

“Wait outside. I’ll meet you in five.”

But Hange stood there, equally confused and chagrined at his statement. Was he going to go home with them? No, that wouldn’t do.

Levi had his own finals to study for, Hange couldn’t impose on him like that because they’d been stupid enough to push themself past their limit. They would simply have to endure a couple more hours of trying not to pass out at their seat until noon came around and all of their roommates went home anyway, to tag along without disrupting anyone’s schedule in the process.

Levi’s hands squeezed at their shoulders firmly, and his stare hardened in the window as if he could hear them reaching that conclusion.

Then he let go but didn’t move too far, seemingly unsure if Hange could actually stand by themself.

They rolled their eyes fondly, and –precociously– turned around, sporting what they hoped looked like a gentle smile and not a maniac grin –Levi’s expression remained stubbornly set, so they couldn’t tell either way– before moving carefully towards the door. They tried their hardest not to stumble on the way, and coughed to mask their giggling when they failed and almost tripped on their own feet.

Levi met them at the back exit of the building with their backpack and his own stuff shortly, and Hange didn’t bother trying to hide that they’d nearly fallen asleep on the stairs in the few minutes they’d been apart.

He frowned as they yawned without putting their hands to their mouth, but uncharacteristically didn’t comment on it as he grabbed their elbow to direct them towards an unknown car a few feet away.

They dug their heels in the sidewalk when they realized he’d ordered a paying ride for them.

“Wait, Levi, there’s no need for that. The bus–

“Won’t be here for another twenty minutes,” he interrupted. “You’re not passing out in the streets again, not under my watch.”

They recognized his clipped tone as the one that didn’t suffer any kind of discussion, even as he mentioned that party a month ago. Hange sighed inwardly, but followed his steps –they were way too tired to fight him anymore.

“What, like you’d get worried?” they still teased –they were exhausted, not dead. No way in hell would they miss an occasion to needle their favorite neat freak.

Levi snorted, and had Hange been less asleep on their feet, they’d have felt proud that they’d managed to get that sound out of him.

“I’d worry about my back, for one. I don’t want to know what carrying your unconscious ass home twice would do to it.”

“Hey, not fair!” They whined in protest, missing their target completely when they tried to playfully slap his arm. “I was at least ten pounds heavier then! And besides, Mike did most of the carrying, didn’t he?”

Hange couldn’t remember much from that night, but the rumor –in the form of Erwin and Nanaba’s recollection of the evening as they’d told it to them the following day, anyway– had Levi so worried about them passing out drunk he’d been too restlessly anxious to carry them himself, and had instead covered them in all of their friends’ coats, shoving their unconscious body in Mike’s strong arms, and then proceeding to walk beside him to closely monitor their breathing and that they wouldn’t choke on their own tongue or surprise vomit.

Hange only recalled waking up propped against multiple pillows with a pounding head and a grumpy –well, grumpier than usual– and sleep-deprived Levi who had shoved a glass of water in their shaky hand and scolded them about their alcohol consumption for the next half hour or so. It had then taken them drinking and keeping down a whole liter of diverse hydrating fluids before he’d finally left them alone to go and nurse his own hangover, and it was only after he’d left that Hange had noticed the newfound tidiness of their room and how the purple fatboy that would normally lay forgotten in a corner of the room –and under a pile of questioningly clean clothes and textbooks– had been pushed right next to their bed with a possibly Levi-shaped indentation in it.

Levi didn’t answer their rhetorical question, instead stopping in his tracks and giving them a clinical once over.

“What?” they prompted, barely resisting the urge to cross their arms to hide themself from his examination.

“Nothing,” he replied quickly, averting his eyes and opening the car door for them.

He muttered something under his breath still, and Hange’s ears caught a few words that sounded suspiciously like end up disappearing if you keep this up.

He greeted the driver and confirmed his identity as Hange plopped down with a relieved groan, and didn’t miss the concerned look Levi shot them as he sat next to them. His hand slid down from where it was still gripping their elbow to rest gently on their forearm as the car started, and they could swear he gave it a small, awkward but infinitely soft couple of comforting pats.

Hange boldly took advantage of this atypically lengthy physical contact, and moved so they could slide their hands together almost nonchalantly –almost, because they nearly faltered when Levi’s neck snapped to stare at their fingers in awe.

Hange smiled as naturally as they could to try and ease the shock from his features.

“I’ll pay you back for the ride,” they promised, squeezing his hand once.

They let him go after that. It wouldn’t do for their most introverted friend who was making sure they were getting safely home to get a brain aneurysm from their unexpected and possibly unwanted touches, after all.

“Tch. You better,” he grunted, moving his hand back to his lap immediately.

They couldn’t help but smile again when they took note that his tone wasn’t nearly as biting as they knew it could be.

[sinnabee]

hey guys! i’ve got a bit of a (big) life update for y’all.

unfortunately, i’m having to figure out a new living situation pretty unexpectedly. my roommate and i talked, and basically he’s wanting to live on his own again. so i’ve got about two months to get moved out of here and find a new place. (i’m working on it! luckily i recently reconnected with a friend who’s a real estate agent, so who knows - maybe i’ll get my own damn house >:D)

for anybody that follows me on ko-fi, you might have seen the update i put there. this is a more detailed version of that.

basically, this means (and i am so so so SO sorry about this) it’s going to be a while before i can get a lot of these charm orders out.

i’m going to try my best to get out what i can in-between packing, but don’t be surprised if your order takes several months to ship. again, i’m so sorry - i know it took me ages to even get them listed.

one of the other things this is going to effect may be sticker orders and new stickers.

sticker orders:

i try to include free doodles with my sticker orders, and i am going to continue to try and do that, but some of you may not receive a doodle, and for that i’m sorry.

if you would rather get your stickers sooner, and don’t mind missing out on the doodle, please message me, either through tumblr or through ko-fi. (ko-fi will help me keep track of who’s who a bit better.)

if you REALLY want a doodle, and don’t mind waiting, then let me know and i’ll move yours to the back of my list. this way, i can prioritize anyone who doesn’t mind going without a doodle and start cutting down on my workload.

if you don’t message me either way, i’ll try and get your doodle done, but there’s a chance i may just go ahead and send it without one. luck of the draw.

some of you have ordered stickers AND charms! (omg, what the heck! y’all are amazing!) despite being in the same order, i may try and at least get you your sticker orders, unless otherwise requested. (i have a few people that have already spoken to me about having their items shipped together, so no worries if we’ve already talked.) for anyone that ordered stickers + charms, i wasn’t going to do a doodle anyway, since the main reason i have those is to do something with the cardstock i use to keep the envelopes flat. this way y’all will at least get something sooner! (again, message me if you’d rather i’d send it all together. don’t worry about shipping if i send them separately, i’m not gonna apply a charge for that, it’s fine.)

new stickers:

i had intended to start printing and eventually list my new halloween dca sticker design by october first at the absolute latest. but with the whole “ideally be moved out within two months at the latest, earlier if possible,” thing, that may not be happening.

i’m still gonna try, though!!!!! i’ll try and save my sticker making things for later in the packing process, and maybe try and get that stuff figured out before the end of this month. we’ll see if i can juggle it with everything else - i really think it’s dependent on me catching up on my other orders, first.

in addition to all of this, i’m still out of work on FMLA for my back problems. on the bright side - my appointment is FINALLY coming up!!! yippee!!! but that also means i have to take a lot of breaks from packing and working on stickers because… back hurty. but it ALSO means i have the time to do all this stuff, breaks included, because i’m not working. so…silver linings, am i right? :D

also just wanna say thank you to everybody again - i have made SO many friends in this fandom, and i’ve had a blast being able to make stickers and finally charms!!!! half the reason i’ve been able to bounce back so quick after getting this news the other day is because i’ve already had some of my pals who saw my kofi post messaging me and wishing me well. and the money from the charm orders is gonna help ease the moving/shopping process a lot, so - thank you all so much!!!!

again, i’m sorry everything is so delayed. but i WILL get it out to you eventually, once things settle down a bit. but y’all are amazing, and i appreciate you lots, k???? don’t forget it!!! <3

[christiansorrell]

Play-By-Blog #5: The Isle by Luke Gearing

Welcome to my ongoing play-by-blog of The Isle by Luke Gearing! We are playing this adventure with its original system, The Vanilla Game (adjusted somewhat to fit the format). You can check out the Play-By-Blog Repository to get all caught up if you wish.

How Play-By-Blog works:

I write up the situation, NPCs, and more, just like a DM.

You vote in the poll to help decide the character's course of action.

I roll the dice, resolve actions, and write them up next week.

So on and so forth for the rest of the adventure!

Notation:

[Text in brackets is out-of-character/GM text!] "Non-italicized quotes denote text from the original adventure!" "Italicized quotations denotes NPC dialogue."

Our character: Medon Girou - Magic Cutpurse

Our map: The Isle

[You can use the link's above to find Medon's Character Sheet and map of the Isle. On the map, you are currently at B.]

Now, back to the adventure!

You continue watching the monk for a few more minutes. He is a capable fisherman, easily baiting his line and casting well (far better than you, anyway). He pulls a small fish up, dropping it in bucket resting near him on the jetty.

You feel like this may be your best chance at a favorable introduction with the monks, better to at least approach one and see, rather than face down the monastery itself. Still, best to keep your true purpose here quiet.

You step out from behind the rocky cliff side and holler down from the staircase leading down into the cove proper.

"Ho there! Beautiful day for it, isn't it?" It wasn't a beautiful day really, but it seemed nicer than most on this gray, wet rock.

The monk turns to you, surprised by the sudden noise and then shocked when he lays eyes on you and realizes you aren't a fellow monk. That you shouldn't be here at all.

He jumps to his feet, reaches into his robes, and looks towards the monastery, seeing the rocky cliff side of the cove blocking the building from his view entirely. He's too far from the others for them to hear him, but he yells anyway.

"INTRUDER!"

He draws a crooked fish-gutting knife out from under his robes. You can see a crude tattoo of a siren on his inner forearm. This monk carries himself like a sailor and one who certainly knows his way around a blade. [Reaction Roll: 3 - Violent]

[Initiative: 1 (Odd) - Enemies act first]

"I've seen your kind before. Here to put me and mine in the dirt, take our lord's wealth, put out the flame. Good luck then."

He rushes up at you, quickly scaling the short set of stairs leading up towards the path. Why couldn't you have followed a more elderly monk?

He swings in at you with the knife [Attack Roll: 5 (under AV of 10) - Success, Damage Roll: 5-1 (for small weapon) - 4 damage] and connects, slicing away at some of your traveling clothes, nearly striking a deep flesh wound [You have 3 Grit and 6 Flesh remaining]. You know that if you try to pull away from him, he'll strike at you again [This is called a Free Attack and you can do the same to him].

[Because you took damage this round, you cannot cast a spell due to the time and danger involved. You can do anything else though. For the purposes of the Play-By-Blog, I am going to create poll options that are overall goals for the combat - so we don't have to play out each round week-by-week.]

EDIT: [If you'd like to fight and subdue (but not kill) him, please vote for one of the Kill Him options and we'll adjudicate that in next week's poll - sadly, I can't alter the poll after the fact. Sorry for overlooking that option!]

[An exciting turn of events! See y'all next week! - Christian]

[rin-and-jade]

hello, cohost of a relatively newly discovered system here, i just saw a post you made in response to new system ask, and i was curious about how we would go about developing an innerworld.

i am led to believe we have aphantasia, so we cant "picture" anything in our head so i dont know if that prevents us from having a headspace/innerworld. i know some systems just dont have a headspace (a roommate of mine has DID and she has told us that she does not have a headspace, and she cannot communicate with her sysmates outside a discord server)

anyways, i was just curious if there would be a way for us to try devloping an innerworld or not after reading that post. ty

I can be of help to you, but this will heavily depend on yourselves as im here only capable of sharing what might work, from my own experiences.

To understand what makes innerworld an innerworld, by simple means,, it is a place that is reconstructed by senses mentally, vision (mental images) is one of them. You see where this is going.. right?

What if you try it by theory, i know you can't imagine, but im sure you know what it'll be like correct? For first advice, a small but functional innerworld will do because navigating in a big one whilst being 'blind' does not spark joy. Ok so, let's start the steps:

Using your other senses (tactile and hearing) as advantage: How do you want your floors,, is it solid, warm to touch and smooth? That could be porcelain. Straight ridges, un-even textures and cool to touch? That could be wood planks. Fluffy, scruffy texture and it damps noises? That could be carpet/rug floors. Now how do you want your walls,, is it wallpaper patterns you can feel by tactile? Maybe you want it the regular way that is painted smoothly? How thick or thin do you want it to be, enough to produce an echo from a knock or nothing at all? The rest then lies on personalization like furnitures and decorations,, i bet you can do this yourself. Also recommend you by practicing with little things for now and work from there, to bigger things.

Map it out: after determining which fits best, this is where the floor plan is arranged, you might want to draw it out physically (or use apps/webs its ok), from arial, or from side, or in 3d,, anything works. This will help you keep the world consistent as you can't see, as well as serving as a map to navigate around. I also have aphantasia where i can barely see anything as it fleets away so fast (i believe its in a spectrum, i saw it), leaving me having to navigate by touching the walls and guess the floor and temperature (i think windows make rooms feel hotter and in this case my living room has a big balcony). Do not over do the items as it can block your walking route leading to unnecessary bumps, if you want shelves or something hanged above, place them in a reasonable spot because bumping to it by forehead or elses is annoying.. i changed the height of my hanged shelf at the end and it never happen again. Especially if you don't have the innate 'gps' to navigate around.

Teamwork makes dreamwork: I assure you that you don't want to do this alone.. why not share some ideas of what the fronting room should 'look' like, or what the communal place should,, this is honestly done to make everyone feel at ease living in it, as well as sharing the work. You CAN do this yourself but it feels overwhelming and could lead to a burn out.. anyway, it'll take a while to properly build a world, so don't feel bad if its still going to be on progress for months,, no worlds are made perfectly in one try. Incase if you want to remodel the world to a new one at future, just repeat the steps.

Hope this serves you as an insight, this has definitely work for me, and i am not 100% sure it could for you, though, you still learn a few things from here. If you feel like giving up or see this as too much work there is no shame,, and so, i wish you the best luck.

- j

[ryker-writes]

Bonjour! Been meaning to follow you for a while now but uhhhh, t'was busy. Your flower event looks super cozy; and you yourself seem so as well ^v^

If it's alright, could I put in an ask for this flower event? (I'll even give you flowers in return)

Personality; I have two main sides. The one is super playful, and likes teasing friends, a bit hyper-active. But that's when I get comfy with people. Usually, I'm pretty calm, and take on an older sibling role in my friendships. I always try to be a safe place for people to come too. Also, I am cursed with thoughts; gifting you all the brain worms and paper bags, please take them away from me P L E A S E . I also tend to be blunt and straightforward, which has made me sound rude but I don't mean to be. Another thing is that I'm awful when it comes to time blindness; did I talk to someone yesterday? No.... it was 3 weeks ago ; - ;

Hobbies; writing, knitting, drawing. I also do silly dances to get out energy but also to work through writer's block (yes, it helps). Occasionally I "harass" my friends, but it's all good fun. Basically anything creative, and I've probably done it (ink making, ceramics, embroidery, etc.) Also, I used to know a bit about flower language, but it's been lost to me over the years, so Wikipedia & the Farmer's Almanac are my best friends.

There's no pressure btw, take all the time you need and make sure you give your hands a break.

No worries! And thank you! I'm happy to meet someone who's also been interested in flower language! And gasp flowers in return?? How kind!

Ryker's flower garden event

Anyway

I would give you...

A pink hyacinth!

Hyacinths are one of the flowers that change meaning depending on the colors. The pink one means playfulness or playful joy! This fits perfectly with your more playful side of your personality when you have energy and tease your friends! In Victorian times, these flowers were everywhere in gardens to symbolize the beginning of spring and helped uplift peoples spirits!

A white heather!

Heathers are also a flower that's meaning changes depending on the color. The white heather means protection, wishes will come true, and is a symbol for good luck. I chose this flower to represent your other side of your personality. The older sibling role and you being a safe space for others really makes me think of the protection side of this flower!

A fir!

I know it's not a flower, but a fir tree has a meaning too! Fir trees are symbols of time! They can last anywhere from 500 to 1,300 years and are often seen as very old trees. I chose this tree for you because of your time blindness. In long lifespans like the fir tree's, time can blur together. But with time comes wisdom!

A light blue wisteria!

The wisteria flowers have many different meanings depending on what culture you look at at what color. The light blue wisteria flowers mean inspiration, growth, and development. I think this matches perfectly with all your hobbies since they require inspiration and in doing creative hobbies, you develop and grow yourself! Another interpretation of the wisteria flowers means will you dance with me? I think that fits how you dance to help writers block, and it may be something I try too when I have writers block!

Thank you again for sending in your ask for the event and the follow!

[oatmealcrisp-freak]

(the annon from earlier) I was just wondering when you realized it and how I think I may be somewhere on the asexual scale but hearing someone else’s experience may be nice

sorry for the late reply i uh

i went to bed lol quq

answer under the cut cus i'm a sleepy bitch and it got a mite long

i think a key thing to remember is that you're allowed to identify as what you like, what you think fits you, right now

and that if that changes, or doesn't change, as you grow, learn, etc, that's okay. at least that helped me a lot. took some of the pressure off, yknow? i know some people just know but i didn't, and i get overwhelmed at subway, s o

anyways it was probably a longer process because i didn't know about asexuality growing up, at least not beyond asexual reproduction. and after learning 'that's a thing?! >0' it involved a lot of me getting over the internalized shame of my lacking interest.

the big clinchers were two realizations :

understanding i was using 'i'm waiting until marriage uwu cus uh -checks writing on palm- i love my dead grandma a lot and she told me to when i was 6' as an excuse to just, like. not.

and the relief i felt when i figured out 'maybe I'm just not interested like that in anyone and that's okay?' after learning about aesthetic attraction. it was a huge weight off.

then for a while i was busy trying to sort out the 'mechanism' or the 'why' but idk if that matters for me anymore? i'm still fine just the way i am and there doesn't have to be a reason for it. so it took a while, but it's a good fit.

i felt a bit silly, ngl, that it took me so long LOL i think other people figured it out before i did. like i like people, people are gorgeous and i enjoy being with them and drawing them, but the same could be said for flowers, birds, and the stars in the sky. a big thing that helped me was doing as you're doing right now - getting into the community and hearing aspec people talk about themselves and their experiences. simultaneously demystifying and validating. so if there's a piece of advice i could give on that, it's to keep trusting your instincts.

whatever you decide for yourself, anon, i have faith that will be the best language you choose for yourself and i wish you all the best of luck with things. identifying ourselves to ourselves with our language is a wonderful power that we get to experience. i know this is something people aren't always kind about but one way or the other, you got this.

i hope this is cohesive and makes sense and helps. again, best of luck. <3

[mumpsetc]

Hi again Harmie <:) I wanted to write this to recommend you something else, but also for other things, I also wanted to thank you for the recommendations because I forgot to earlier, Even though I can't actually engage with them yet for multiple reasons, I hope to actually interact with them somewhere in the future when I'm in a better headspace <:) (Though if you could recommend some things that are more lighthearted that would be nice, only if want to of course <:) The second-

I'm Not Puttin the Other Asks Here for Sake of Brevity (And So I Remember, I Pulled Up Indistict Chatter in a Different Tab and It Looks Super Interesting. Its Gonna Be Spring Break Soon So Ill Actually Have TIME to Check Out Your Reccs :] )

ANYWAYS Anon I Reallly Do Wish You Luck on Your Journey Into Deeper Analysis. I'm Trynna Think of Any Tips I Have But Honest to God Entering With an Open Mind and Keeping an Eye Out for Reoccurring Anything, Symbol, Musical Sting, Line of Dialogue, Similar Occurrence, All That Will Help. Most Things Are Made With Atleast One Layer More of Meaning, if Something Doesn't Make Sense or Seems Confusing Think About What Could Help Explain It, Not in an In-Universe Way But If This Absence is Purposeful or Atleast Could Add to a Thesis Regarding Your Own Interpretation (Like With Your TPOS Example I Am Pretty Certain The Creator Wasn't Thinking About The Nature of The Self But There is Something There). You Can Draw Meaning From Works Not Originally Intended By the Creator, and Everyone Can Take Something Different From It Too. Being Open to Other Interpretations of Things You May Have Missed Also Helps a Lot, I Know Ive Watched and Enjoyed Movies and Then Talked to My Friends Who Picked Up On Unsavory Undertones I Missed and Thats Not a Moral Failing At All!

Overall What Helped Me Figure Out How Im Gonna Analyze and Engage With Media is Knowing Nothing That Happens on the Screen is Real or Accidental, Its There Because a Person Put it There Intentionally or Otherwise, and Trying to Discern Meaning From That Can Be Very Rewarding.

Movie Reccs Below Readmore

On a Happier Media Side I'm Going to Class Soon So I Cant Provide the Best Content Warnings RN, Check DoestheDogDie.Com, But Imma Fire Off a Few Movies That are Relatively Lighthearted In Tone But Still Worth Watching and Considering: Truman Show (Its Good for Starting to Think About Movies Deeper But Again If Youre Delusional Be a Little Wary Here), Magnolia, Dreams By Kurosawa, Paprika, and Night's Short Walk On Girl. Have a Good Day Anon and I Wish You Luck :]

[miss-tc-nova]

heya!

I adored your leojami fic agfhjkfk yES set those bastards free

ooh! speaking of which! I couldn't stop thinking about short haired Jamil so

I was possessed-

agfbdh not my best work bUT anyways

I have Thoughts and nowhere to dump them so here I am

Leona and Jamil do try to keep their relationship a secret- but it would be so funny if a bunch of people just knew despite their best efforts.

Ruggie, for one, knows. There was never any escaping that.

Rook knows. There is no way he doesn't. He's a hunter and Leona is animal-coded- Rook knows a lot about him, and this is one of his more amusing secrets, in Rook's opinion. Vil has his suspicions but he doesn't really know for sure.

Azul knows. He just knows how to figure things out- which would mean Jade and Floyd do too, but I think it would be so funny if Floyd just wasn't paying attention when the subject came up, so he doesn't actually know. Jade and Azul both think he does, though, and sometimes it gets very confusing for Floyd but he doesn't really care enough to ask.

Malleus and Lilia know too. Malleus and Leona- as much as they'll deny it if asked- are actually friends. And Malleus does notice when Leona's attention wanders during one of their verbal sparring matches. And he notices where it goes. He doesn't comment on it though. Instead, he just smirks and shares knowing glances with Lilia.

And you know who else knows? Trey. But gods does he wish he didn't. He's just a normal guy that wants to get by but they're right in front of him. Sometimes he really wishes he wasn't as observant as he is. He just pretends he does not see it. Cater, like Vil, suspects but doesn't really know.

Whew this was long agfvhk but yeah. Thanks for the leojami fic! Again, I'd be interested in any future ones you may or may not have planned, but also no pressure just like the other times!

byeeee~

Holy crap, that's better than anything I can draw. But yeah, the thought of short hair Jamil had me bad too.

And I think I have to agree with your list here of who's in the know, lol. The funnier thing is knowing who's known for how long. Like, Ruggie knows instantly because, well he's doing Leona's laundry.

Rook is definitely next because he's a stalker.

I think Trey just kind of stumbles into the information. Like he's got an idea based on how they act, but then he just stumbles upon the two making out and quickly backing out before they notice him.

Lilia is as observant as Rook and catches on quick. I don't know if I agree with Malleus and Leona being friends, but the second Malleus bothers to give it some thought, he knows. He was probably encouraged by Lilia to think about it more.

I don't know if I would agree that Azul knows, but if so, he also stumbles into the know by sheer luck. Like he's fully aware that Leona is wearing one of Jamil's hair decorations and starts a whole red-line evidence board.

And from there, Jade obviously knows. But Floyd doesn't know Floyd knows.

Then there are those on the fence, like Vil and Cater. And the others who are totally oblivious.

LeoJami need to up their subterfuge.

[partyinthemysterymachine]

you've probably been asked this before, but what advice would you give to someone who's thinking of getting into writing? love ur stuff btw

[three months later]

hello!! THANK YOU SOOOO MUCH!!!!!! i super appreciate that!! it fills me with mountainous joy and it's SUCH a high honor!!!! i actually haven’t been asked that before (iirc, that is….. and my memory is a pot of fried and boiled milk steak). that means a lot that you’d ask me for advice 😭😭🥚🙏❤️❤️❤️ thank you so much for that compliment, that really means the world to me. 

this is what gets me through, what i’ve learned and what works for me; and i hope it’ll do the same for you. 

when it comes to approaching writing (and drawing), i have some rules, and they are as follows:

do whatever the fuck you want.

do it FOR YOU.  

do whatever the fuck you want - this time, with feeling!

be kind to yourself. 

be messy. write messily. be unpoetic and frivolous, use the same word 6 times in a sentence. who curr. when inspiration hits, grab it by the tit and honk. you can edit later. 

and finally: do whatever the FUCK you want, FOR YOU, and BE KIND TO YOURSELF. (and then do it once more, with EXTRA feeling!)

and of course one of the hardest things to do:

don’t give a SINGLE SHIT - not even ONE. FUCK. EVER.

(and do it with a smile!)

NOW LET'S GET INTO IT:

DEADLINES & WORD COUNT & WRITING EVERY DAY, OH MY!

in the beginning of GOOMT, i used to set a deadline for myself; get a chapter out every 7 - 10 days (my best friend and editor’s schedule permitting lmao hiiii Ren <3 she’s gonna murder me one day bless her). 

setting a deadline isn’t viable for me anymore. GOOMT will get out when it does; especially right now, while i’m in an important arc that’s setting up some plot points and future. 

i also tend to write on average 3000 - 4500 words per chapter, with a page average of about 8 - 12. (current library arc not included. Yikes. sorry everyone!!) it’s not an intentional thing either; it’s whatever the chapter comes out to be. dialogue fluffs up the page count a lot too (and dialogue is my strength lmao, but sometimes, god shut UP, Harry!!!!! i’m so with James on that one lmaooo) (jk i love u baby, u make my world go ‘round in a blender) i feel that setting a goal or bracket for x amount of words or page count per chapter is stifling for me, so i don’t do it. 

same, again, with deadlines. this arc is gonna take a hot minute and i’ve written a lot for it already and so i can’t force myself to adhere to anything. if that works for you, peachy; it’s all about trial and error, and, u guessed it - BEING KIND TO YOURSELF. 

beating yourself up for not getting something done just does harm in the end and lord have mercy it happens anyway - but that there is a muscle to build.

you won’t always be perfect, so make the most of what you do at the moment, then come back to it later. 

a popular piece of advice for writers is to write x amount of words a day, or to write ANYTHING every. single. day..... and that might be great for some, but for me, it doesn’t work so well. i don’t like to force myself to write. or edit. sometimes, i do - when i’m frustrated with a chapter or a part, i’ll pluck at it or reread it when i’m >:(((( the entire time or am impatient, or just straight up am NOT in the mood or headspace. sometimes i can power through and get inspiration!! other times, i just get more upset and frustrated. mixed bag. overall, tho, i try not to press my luck. 

figure out what works for you. what works for me in what i write, or when i write..... is vibes.

wish i was joking, but. can't make some shit up, mates.

that said.... trial and error. i don't believe in the write every day advice. i don't believe in setting a writing schedule because my brain doesn't operate like that. might work for you or someone else though and oh my god i wish that were me, LOL. i salute your shorts.

===

TAKE A BREAK ONCE IN A WHILE WOULDJA/[SALLY NMBC VOICE] BUT I DON'T WANNA BEEEE PATIENT

no seriously.

take your breaks. try not to feel guilty; cope with feeling guilty and learn how to get over those hurdles; and press on when you can.

your health and wellbeing comes first and foremost. the story will not thrive when you aren't. take your breaks; take six months to get out the next chapter. your readers will still be there when you do, and new readers will be excited to read something that just cropped up on their feeds.

this isn't a race. this isn't your job. this is fun. be patient with yourself. you'll get there when you get there.

be patient, mfer. or else 🔪

===

WRITE SIMPLY AKA OH MY GOD DON’T BE LIKE ME AND ABUSE ONLINE THESAURUSES OR KEEP 50+ GOOGLE DOCUMENTS OF WORDS I’D LIKE TO USE OH GOD BRO DON’T DO IT

WRITE SIMPLY.

this might be big talk and side-eyeing coming from me lmao and you know what?: fair.

but i mean it. purple prose can be too much of a good (or bad) thing, and never you mind my 5 google documents of words and definitions i’ve saved for future use that average about 45 pages do NOT do as i do—

however wordhippo is my favorite thesaurus site and use it - but use it well, and use it WISELY. lord knows i’ve got a few chapters where i went HAYWIRE on the thesaurus and synonyms— and god, i’ll come back to it much later when i re-edit everything!!!! but don’t be like me. be intentional; be precise. it’s a hard act to juggle and don’t get down on yourself. it takes time, and it takes a lot of work and practice. it’s a constant struggle. 

that’s the beauty of art. 

just word barf onto the page. fuckin'. stream-of-conscioussness that shit. you can fix it later. 

===

WRITING OUT OF ORDER

one of the things i like to do when i write is write out future scenes. i’ll get a bout of inspiration and just go for it, no edits - even if it’s just inane blather. get the idea out!! consider it a skeleton for beefing later. (yummy.)

GOOMT has a folder called SCENES NOTES wherein there are, you guessed it, notes for future scenes - and i’ve written a metric fuckload of these.

they're separated into categories, such as "general" and "romantic". i know i'll want to use in the future somewhere. many of them date as far back as 2019 and 2020 and haven't yet seen the light of day, while others have already been published. some are still waiting for their time.

99% of these scenes are going to need heavy editing and tweaking because they are all written without knowing where the hell they're actually going to go, or if they'll ever get used. the "prom stories" scene in ch48 was one of these random ass scenes notes that i KNEW i wanted included somewhere, but where? how?

i had no idea. i just knew i did NOT want to shoe-horn it in (and there's more about that later in this post). there's another coming after the library arc (ho ho ho!!) that has been sitting waiting for its time probably since 2020 or maybe early 2021. i do hoard a lot of random scenes and writing though i do understand i MIGHT never use it; but if anything..

consider it as character development.

===

HEHE WHAT A FUNNY LIL GUY WITH A FUNNY LIL PERSONALITY

character development.................

rubs face. what can i even say about this LOL. pull shit out of your ass.

again: no, really.

believe it or not i used to create a LOT of OCs and while i still have a pet project and OCs lurking in the background, there is one thing i learned to do in regards to creating/developing them, and this one neat trick that i'm still very good at it to this day:

pulling shit out of my ass.

whenever i get a character question (what do you think x feels about y) or response to a hc meme or w/e, there is a very, very high chance (about 80-90%, depending) that i haven't thought about this (or the character in terms of personal ideas) before. most of the time it's actual just stream of consciousness.

tbh. i recommend that as a writing exercise. taking a character question meme and answering it yourself. go into details if you can. it doesn't matter how "cringe" or whatever it is. write. cook that lil mfer in your head. spin 'em around like a salad spinner. just. write.

i can't get enough of detail. i fucking love and THRIVE on the mundane. slice of life is my entire soul. i have found that in writing, the most mundane and "boring" pieces of a character's slice of life becomes so crucial to what they become in my writing. i'm constantly picking up and deciding new tidbits/factoids. those really help set foundation and building blocks for the character (and story)'s future.

however, as with the advice above with writing out of order: it's incredible what happens in character development when just dotting down those notes.

and don't be afraid to let the characters do it themselves, too. the sentiment is super real about you as the writer having zero will sometimes over what a character does lmfao. that's just how it be.

also remember: people are extremely diverse and surprising. i dont' think it's fair to you or your writing or the characters to hold back purely because you fear something you may have discovered about them (or backlash for writing it).

for example: James "no fat chicks" Sunderland, re: ch61.

i've joked about it before; but since it's actually published GOOMT canon that James is an Actual Asshole about fat people (Harry), i was actually pretty damn worried that i could get some flack for it, LOL, despite knowing this piece about him for quite some time. it, while rather :\, is important to James's characterization and development throughout GOOMT.

not even Harry is safe from the ":\ seriously bro?" disappointment moments. and it's going to be nail biting for me to write and publish them because i of course don't want to face flack for it; but i would consider it a disservice to me and my writing and my storytelling if i didn't. people are disappointing; people are surprising. they're flawed and weird and fantastical. they progress and regress.

so let your characters do that, too.

===

PLANNING & OUTLINING & ORGANIZING LORE

this is a tough one for me. with GOOMT, its lore is in constant development and it’s massive. here’s what my organization looks like for GOOMT (with redacted folders bc Spoilers - and i’m a VERY superstitious writer lmao):

PLOT folder i have:

and within character ref:

may look like i have my shit together, but looks are deceiving LOL. it is a bit of a mess but hey at least i’ve got the heart, right? 

i recommend setting up something like this if you’re gonna be doing something even small and medium sized, and do THIS ONE NEAT TRICK (that i didn’t do in the beginning because i had no idea what i was doing, nor thinking GOOMT would get this far):

SAVE. YOUR DETAILS. AS. YOU. GO. ALONG. 

!!!!

really mate. superstition, unfortunately, doesn’t allow me to show you GOOMT’s versions exactly, but here are some examples, with [REDACTED]s in effect LOL 

PLOT:

CHARACTER REF:

MONSTERS:

it’s imperative!!! that you keep your shit together as best as possible.. and perhaps even MOREso that you actually LOOK at it more than twice a year ansishdhdjfhfjsbf good god i can forget it’s there so often and then i’m like. well WHO BETRAYED ME. WHO DID THAT. WHO FORGOT TO TELL AND/OR REMIND ME OF THAT. looking at everything else but the mirror i’m standing in front of, lmao

but remember: do only what you need to, and what works for you..... and remember too that all this is because GOOMT is ENORMOUS, and it's always, ALWAYS growing. so my apologies if this is kinda overwhelming, but... gestures.

GOOMT.

===

EDITING & EDIT HELL

a lot of what i write never makes it to see the light of day. i cannot stress how much i’ve written and cut. sometimes.. you're going to have to cut that thing you really really like about the chapter/piece. sorry. it's going to be a bummer to cut it but you're gonna have to cut it.

for example: ch60 had more than seven iterations or more in total.

no, seriously. and one of the things that sucks about it is that i cut a lot that i was very proud of, thought was important, but ultimately was not the right place or time: and very frankly, it may never have a place or time in the story. i still have them, though.

while they can definitely be discouraging, but in my mind, what they really are/were, were character development exercises. i’m not interested in shoe-horning them in either, even if they were genius, tho retooling is always a possibility. but in those moments, considering what you’ve written as character development exercises for YOU to understand them, and where you want to take the character and build their dynamic potential and future, is GREATLY beneficial in the long term for you as the writer, and those reading.  

i tend to write all i can in one go and then go back and edit and tweak. then when i say i'm in "edit hell", i'm talking about taking an entire week for purely editing. what editing means to me may not mean to you, either; so i'm not really sure how to advise.

i do recommend grabbing a friend who makes the mistake of offering to edit a chapter for you 52 chapters ago and is still editing for you to this day and very likely for the many mountains of months to follow tho :) (hi ren <3)

===

PACING & AH SHIT I REGRET PUTTING THAT THERE

shit happens! and sometimes you want shit to happen like. NOW. well..

you sure about that?

i’ve mentioned before how many times i’ve rearranged parts of GOOMT, and even regretted already revealing things. take some good keen time and CONSIDER what you’re writing; WHERE you're writing it; WHY you're writing it; and how the story is supposed to be going.

i think it’s also important to remember that not everything needs to ever be revealed, or revealed at once. you can allude to a lot of things. GOOMT and POTF have a LOT of lore stacked up (and always more being developed) and there’s a whole lot of it that’s not MEANT to see the light of day (tho, of course, that may change, and i’m willing to let that happen as needed). 

that said: ALWAYS make sure that revealing any big details or lore is necessary in what you’re writing. it’s very tempting to bring something into the chapter that you’ve been just itching to get out, but is it necessary? does it actually fit? and those questions aren't always easy to answer at the time, or simply can't be answered until 20/20 hindsight.

for example: revealing the Memory of Harry monster in GOOMT.

MoH originally was going to be debuted back in ch21, when they returned to the alley first seen in SH1. i had his whole scene written and ready to go but i cut him out just about before i handed the chapter to Ren for editing. instead, he made his appearance in Balkan in ch27.

looking back on it now, i wish i had waited until they were in Midwich.

i got a little too eager to introduce him. i didn't know where else to slap him down and at the same time too, the first Midwich arc wasn't yet much of a thought (and it began ch31). so at THAT time, i thought it was a good place to put him.

to be fair on myself: it was. it was a good place. but it would have made more sense and been more impactful, i realize in hindsight, to have dropped him into Midwich. still, it was a damn good reveal if i do say so myself, and pretty impactful too!!!

so there are always going to be regrets or even mistakes in pacing and placement. it’s a good learning experience and learning curve to take in and work on.

just.. whatever you do: DON’T. SHOEHORN. IN. if it's not time for it, it's not time. it's absolutely not worth it imo. take the piece that isn't working and set it to the side. you can use it later if the time/need arises.

pacing is super fucking hard to me and i gnaw at my hands about my arcs and how long they can take, and i have worry about things moving too slowly for readers. on the flip, i have a shitload to go through. and i'm going to make mistakes about reveals. and pacing is going to get wonky and GOOMT is going to get boring or drag on in parts and the reality is, is that that's just normal for it to happen.

i'm not sure what advice i have about pacing really. just be sure to sit down and give your story a great big think and re-read every now and then.

===

CONSISTENCY & WRITING STYLE & ACCEPTING ITS WEIRD JOURNEY

oh lord, have mercy; oh how the times do change, and ebb and flow through every fucking chapter, LOL

this is just natural. let it happen. of course your style is gonna change over time - especially if you’re writing long form. it could be disappointing; i know i look back at some chapters and go, shit, i LOVED the way i wrote here! how can i get that back?

and then you might also feel like your quality declined. i’m kind of in that phase right now; it sort of feels like my writing took a nosedive. for that, what i’m doing, and therefore i suggest it, is read back over old work you wrote and liked a lot. and even better?

read a book. read an old favorite or a new one. get some inspiration and mojo. take down notes of phrases you liked, or mark pages. just to have on hand. take a breather. remember: you're here to have fun.

===

JUST WRITE THE CRINGE, BRO

seriously: who. te fuck. cares. all the wrong people, that’s who! self-indulgence is the name of the game, babey. your world, your oyster. you don’t have to post it. just write it. remember:

if it makes you happy, then write - and draw - whatever the FUCK YOU WANT.

and if anyone tries to make you feel bad about it, just come back to me, or send the haters to my door. 🔪 i gotchu, bro. 

:3c 

===

CONSIDER A PET PROJECT

i’ve got a slew of personal work (-adjacent being one) that won’t see the light of day (ok so i’ve talked a little about it/posted one or two things, but that’ll be the extent). i love looking back at it or tinkering with new scenes bc it makes me happy and keep me sane LOL and i refuse to deny myself!!! MY HOUSE MY TRASH WE ROLL IN IT

however!! when GOOMT is being a right wanker about things, i’ve taken to writing pet projects - either working on my personal stuff, OR things i actually intend to publish. 

they aren’t always one-offs either; i’ve got two other series i work on and publish (Heya, Neighbor! and Puttin’ On The Fritz) and a few things that won’t see the light of day (.. or some pornographies..) and LIGHTLY edit. BIG STRESS ON LIGHTLY. EDIT. i go through Edit Hell enough with GOOMT; i don’t need or WANT the stress of doing that with these things i’m doing for shiggles. they’re just my palate cleansers for when GOOMT is being an asshole and so is being put in the “time-out corner”. 

the side projects are for my need to refresh myself and write freely. they’re a little cringey and maybe OOC for some, but it’s MY cringe and OOC and i LOVE IT because…… oh wait that’s right, it’s FOR ME and MY shits and giggles - but all y’all can read it too if it tickles your navel, LMAO. they get updated very, very slowly, and that’s fine. that might be a bit too much for some people to juggle and/or balance and that’s fine too. 

===

REMEMBER ALWAYS: you are writing FOR YOU. yes - absolutely you CAN write for the intent to gain popularity (and here’s a good article by @javert on how to approach that), but that’s not my style or intent. i just want to write fun stories and fling them out into the world and maybe someone will get a kick out of it, too. that’s what keeps me going. 

not giving a fuck about what you write or create is probably, definitely, at the very top of the highest peak, super hard; but not giving a fuck either about whether or not you receive validation? the HARDEST. (but today is not the day we get into that).

the moral of this story is:

if you write it, they will come.

your passion and your love will bring them in. somebody wants to read what you're writing. i promise it.

i started GOOMT, and i write it, and WILL keep writing it because i LOVE what i’m doing. i’m writing for ME, and i’m posting it so that anyone else who might be interested to share it with me can take the journey alongside. i never, EVER expected it to gain traction or the amount of attention it’s gotten and i’m truly, madly, DEEPLY grateful for everyone who has joined me and my boys through the story i have to tell. i’m straight up blown away that people like, or even love it as much as i do. i’m THRILLED. and for everyone who reads my older stuff (you nasties (loving), i see you digging around in my Batman trash, yeah you like that shit huh??? well i’ll do more….. Sometime In The Future™️), THANK YOU so MUCH. it keeps my ego inflated as well, as humble. 

all in all my advice is: write. just fuckin' write.

write cringe.

write the AU you dream about in the messiest way.

just barf out all the words as they come, let them fly through your fingers.

write shit you’ll never post.

write it because it gives you a giggle or warms the cockles of your heart (or the sub-cockle area; maybe even your kidneys; i don’t know). 

just write it. someone’s gonna fucking love it to the ends of the earth and thank you for writing it. they may never say anything, and you may never know how your work affected them - gave them confidence to create their own content; to interact with the fandom; to pursue another day, etc - but someone is always reading. someone is interested.

love yourself, love your work; they will see you, they will see how much you love what you do, and they will love you, and your creations, for it, too.

🥚🙏❤️

[mikimeiko]

Day 9 - Lazio, Campania

Avezzano>Cassino

Another rail replacement bus. When I got on the driver asked me where I was going, and when I told him Cassino (end of the line) he said "oh, let's do this trip together!". I am also the only person on the bus XD (then I wasn't the only person on the bus and I had a mildly displeasing interaction with an old man... but luckily it was brief).

This was truly an amazing line, and I think it actually might have been a little better by bus (it climbed in places where the rail stayed more at the bottom of the valley, allowing better views).

Cassino (Lazio)

I might still be in Lazio but you can definitely hear the accents shift toward the Campanian ones. Also I had the best coffee of this trip!

Cassino is... not particularly interesting? And also weird in the sense that I couldn't find a city center proper (or maybe I should say: a city center I recognized).

I know I'm the one who chose places based on the train lines I wanted to do, or on how expensive staying there would be, and that keeps saying "there's always something to see" but... three meh cities in a row is quite enough. I'd like a pretty one now. (On the other hand, I found a good bakery and had a wonderful torta rustica, a focaccia/pizza filled with cheese and salami baked into it).

Cassino>Caserta

This rail replacement bus is tiny! They actually did something very clever: instead of a couple or more big buses that do the exact route of the train, they scheduled 5 different departures on the span of an hour: 1 big bus that only makes one stop and then goes on the highway to get to Caserta, which takes approximately as much as the train would have; 2 minibuses that make the main stops; 2 minibuses that do all the stops (taking forever, but those are not for the people going from one end to the other). I wish they explained the situation better, and signaled bettere which bus would leave from where, because people were VERY confused.

At one point I am reminded that I have indeed reached southern Italy: a lady traveling with her mum offers a homemade sandwich to a man traveling with his nephew after they bonded during the confusing time in which we were trying to understand which bus to take XD

Caserta (Campania)

The weirdest feeling is getting out of the station and finding yourself in front of the Royal Palace of Caserta (which is the main touristic draw of the city). It's like... Right there!

When I leave my b&b to go around the city, I see a storm is brewing. I decide to test my luck and try to see as much as I can anyway (I'm leaving very early tomorrow morning), and for a bit it's windy and dark but ok, and I manage to see most of the city center.

Then it starts raining, and in a minute it's getting heavy: I'm very lucky and I find a square with portici where I can wait for the rain to stop; unfortunately I choose the wrong portico at the beginning, when I think it will be a brief thing, and not the one with the bars in it; and now the rain it's too intense to cross the road and get there (I've been standing for 45 minutes, I'm tired and the wait would have been more pleasant with a drink XD).

(I did get my drink in the end, when the rain started to be less heavy I moved to the other portico XD)

Traveled: 163km (1706km total)

Intro | Go back to Day 1 | Continue to Day 10

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Non-despair AU! And ever since I watched that thirty minute anime clip with Nagito’s perspective on things, I’ve really liked the idea of him being buds with Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko. And Nagito openly talks about his past trauma on a plane so… what better way to bond than bonding over trauma? Anyway, I love these three so much. Also Komahina because I love them - Circle

(Also forgot to add this, sorry, but it’s on AO3 too) https://archiveofourown.org/works/33483538

Warning: descriptions of panic attacks, nausea, motion sickness, very mild vomiting (like barely any).

Fuyuhiko always thought Nagito was spouting a whole load of bullshit when he lamented about his talent being useless; he would’ve loved having Ultimate Luck right now.

“Haha! You got the short straw, Fuyuhiko!” Akane crowed. “Tough luck!”

“Wait, no! Can’t we do a best of three?”

“Somebody has to sit with them, man,” Nekomaru said. “You guys are already friends, it’ll be a great bonding experience.”

“I don’t want to bond with them in that situation. Because you all know it’ll be a shit show. That’s why we’re fucking doing this,” Fuyuhiko growled, glaring at each of his classmates in turn. Only two were missing, the pair who’d triggered this whole unfortunate drawing of straws in the first place.

“Why can’t you sit with them, Hajime? Nagito is always hanging off you anyway. And Kazuichi is your friend too,” Fuyuhiko said.

“I’m afraid I can’t, Fuyuhiko.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I didn’t draw the short straw.”

“Go fuck yourself.” Fuyuhiko stomped away, his classmates’ laughter echoing behind him. This class trip was already more trouble than it was worth and it hadn’t even started. He was almost tempted to skip the plane journey with the rest of them and hop on a different flight to Novoselic, just to show them. It wasn’t like he needed Sonia to pay his way. But she’d been so enthusiastic about taking her friends to see her home country, and Fuyuhiko couldn’t think of any way to tell her without causing offence. He couldn’t really say he just didn’t want to be stuck babysitting Kazuichi and Nagito on a flight.

It wasn’t that Fuyuhiko didn’t like Kazuichi and Nagito. Sure, Kazuichi could be a real pain in the ass sometimes, and Nagito would go all weird and self-deprecating if you didn’t watch out, but Fuyuhiko still considered them close friends. But the flight to Novoselic was long. Kazuichi could get motion sickness on a fucking bicycle, and Nagito hadn’t set foot on a plane since his parents died on one right in front of his eyes. There was no way it could possibly go well. Fuyuhiko pictured hour after hour of Kazuichi puking and complaining and Nagito… well, he wasn’t sure what the hell Nagito would do. He’d never seen Nagito get flustered before. Hell, that was much more terrifying. He had to get out of this.

In the days before the trip, Fuyuhiko kept trying to convince his kinder classmates to take responsibility for at least one of the other men. “It’s gonna be impossible to help them both,” Fuyuhiko said. “It’ll be better for them if you help me.”

“You could sit between them,” Mahiru said. “And I’ve already promised Hiyoko I’ll sit with her. Sorry.”

Asking Twogami was a no-go too. “It’ll be more considerate to the other passengers if they’re both in one area,” he said. “To limit the disturbance if they become distressed.”

“I’m the one who’ll be feeling fucking distressed,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

Peko overheard, and came over at once. “I’ll take your burden, young master.”

“No, not you!” Fuyuhiko hated the whine in his tone - and he hated the smirk on Twogami’s face too. “You don’t have to do it. You sit with Gundham and pet his hamsters or something. I… I want you to be happy,” he mumbled, blushing fiercely.

Damn it. He could be as bad as Kazuichi sometimes.

There was no way to wriggle out of it. The morning of the trip dawned bright and sunny, and Fuyuhiko’s ticket set him directly between Kazuichi and Nagito. Fantastic.

At least check-in and security went by reasonably peacefully, the walk to their gate quiet. Only Akane and Nekomaru seemed to be properly awake this early in the day, and they stuck with each other. Fuyuhiko glanced at his two friends. Kazuichi still seemed half-asleep, curled on one of the uncomfortable chairs by the gate, watching the planes take off and land in the distance through the huge windows. Nagito was much more concerning. He was smiling brightly… but he didn’t look happy at all.

“Hey, Fuyuhiko, want to know how a plane engine works?” Kazuichi asked.

“No,” he said, but he sat down with a sigh as Kazuichi started talking anyway. He tuned out after a second, though Nagito looked like he was listening.

“Seeing you talk about your ultimate talent is so inspiring, Kazuichi,” Nagito said - and smiled. That weird smile again, desperate and strained.

“It’s nothing. I just think planes are interesting. From an engineering point of view. I really wish I didn’t have to fucking ride one,” Kazuichi groaned.

“Aha, I can’t help feeling apprehensive too. The last time I was on a flight, both my parents died.” Nagito spoke emotionlessly, as if reciting a shopping list, but that smile was still fixed on his face. “But it’s okay. That bad luck brought me a lot of good luck later on. You just have to have hope that things will work out.”

Kazuichi stared at him, mouth open. “Um. Okay. Sorry.” He caught Fuyuhiko’s eye and mouthed what the fuck? Fuyuhiko wasn’t sure if Kazuichi was just now hearing the story or if he was confused by Nagito’s weird behaviour. He shrugged helplessly.

There wasn’t much conversation after that. You couldn’t really carry on your casual chit-chat right after somebody brought up their dead parents. Fuyuhiko kept an eye on Nagito. He was bolt upright in his seat, his eyes staring straight ahead, hands clasped so tight in his lap his knuckles bleached white. With his pale hair and ashen face, he looked like all the blood had drained out of him completely.

Their flight number was called far too soon, and Fuyuhiko dragged his motley crew to the right aisle, pondering where to put everyone. Kazuichi should probably be on the end if he’d be passing vomit bags to some poor stewardess. Fuyuhiko needed to be in the middle, so that left Nagito by the window. He’d have to keep the shutter pulled down.

Hajime passed them on the way to his own seat, and stopped short when he saw Nagito’s face. He leaned right over Kazuichi and Fuyuhiko, ignoring their complaints and curses, and took Nagito’s hand. “Are you alright? You look… off.”

“Don’t worry about me, Hajime.”

“Your hands are clammy.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. How disgusting for you,” Nagito said, smiling. Always smiling.

“That’s not what I meant… Look, do you want to sit with me?”

“Can we move it along please?” somebody called irritably down the aisle.

“You’re holding up the line, Hajime. Don’t worry about me,” Nagito repeated. Hajime looked like he was worrying dreadfully, but he was forced to move along. Nagito clasped his hands again and fixed his gaze on the seat in front, smiling smiling smiling. It was freaking Fuyuhiko out. He looked like he was wearing a mask and his eyes were the only real part of him, swirling with turmoil.

“Hey.” Kazuichi nudged Fuyuhiko’s shoulder and whispered in his ear. “Are Hajime and Nagito… you know. A thing?”

“Mate, you told me you’ve seen them leave Hajime’s cabin together in the mornings.”

“They could just be having a sleepover. As bros.”

“I don’t think it’s that, Kazuichi.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause I don’t want Hajime to get a new best friend,” Kazuichi said.

Fuyuhiko sighed. “I think you’re safe.”

There was a pause. Then another shoulder nudge a second later. “So Hajime and Nagito? Seriously? Am I the only person on my own in this class?” Kazuichi muttered.

Fuyuhiko was spared from responding by the flight attendants starting the safety briefing, demonstrating how to use the oxygen masks and the life jackets in case of emergency. He had to admit, it was pretty eerie to think that you could, however unlikely it may be, crash into the ocean or need extra oxygen to live long enough to get to land. He glanced over at Nagito nervously. His arms were now curled across his chest, hands gripping his elbows. His head was bent, a cloud of puffy hair hiding his face. Maybe that was for the best.

“Can you try not to puke as long as possible?” Fuyuhiko whispered to Kazuichi. “I feel like I might have a situation to deal with.”

“I’m never trying to puke,” Kazuichi said, but he seemed worried too, glancing past Fuyuhiko. “Hey, Nagito, you doing alright?”

“Don’t worry about me, Kazuichi,” Nagito said, eerily calmly.

“That’s not the same thing as saying you’re fine, is it?” Kazuichi whispered to Fuyuhiko.

“He’s clearly not fucking fine,” Fuyuhiko snapped.

“Should I ask Hajime to swap?” Kazuichi asked.

Fuyuhiko nodded, but before Kazuichi could even undo his seatbelt, the plane jerked and started reversing out of the gate. Fuyuhiko heard Nagito draw in his breath sharply - then he was the one fumbling for his seatbelt, standing unsteadily.

“What the fuck are you doing, man?” Fuyuhiko yelled, catching onto the back of Nagito’s coat as he tried to clamber over the seats. “Sit down!”

“I’m afraid I need to get off,” Nagito said, voice still calm despite his frantic movements.

“It’s already moving, for God’s sake! Sit down before a flight attendant sees you!” It wasn’t hard to force Nagito back into his seat - he seemed light enough for a strong gust of wind to knock him over - and Souda hastily got the belt fastened again just as the plane rolled onto the runway.

“Okay. It’s fine. You’re fine,” Fuyuhiko gabbled, trying hard not to shout or swear or scream at all his classmates for making him deal with this. “Just sit still and… I dunno, plug your ears. The takeoff part is the worst.”

There was a cacophony of whirring as the engines roared to life and Fuyuhiko would be very grateful for all that noise in a second, because Nagito started to laugh. Dry, hysterical laughter, his eyes over-bright and manic, lips bared in that grisly parody of a smile.

“Has he lost his fucking mind?” Kazuichi asked, sounding genuinely frightened.

“You must really hate me, Fuyuhiko,” Nagito gasped. “To restrain me here… You must despise me.”

“I’m not restraining you!”

“Then let me off.” He locked eyes with Fuyuhiko and for a second the manic grin faded. “Please…”

The engines roared to a crescendo and the plane shot forward so quickly everyone was pinned to their seats with the force, zooming on and on until they could feel the entire structure lurch into the air. Kazuichi groaned softly, shutting his eyes, but Fuyuhiko was far more focused on Nagito. He had his eyes squeezed shut too, but his hand clamped hard onto Fuyuhiko’s arm. Really fucking hard. Shit, maybe Nagito wasn’t as weak as he looked. Fuyuhiko cursed as his terrified companion started digging his nails into his skin, actually drawing blood. The pain prompted Fuyuhiko to try prying the hand loose a little, but Nagito clamped on harder, carving several new scratches. Fuyuhiko didn’t dare attempt again; he’d get his arm cut to ribbons.

When the plane was flying high and the swirling, disoriented feeling had eased, Fuyuhiko checked on both men. Kazuichi had his head in his hands, but he gave a shaky thumbs up when Fuyuhiko prodded him.

“‘M okay,” he mumbled. “Got through takeoff. Gets better when it’s levelling out.”

“Right, good. Try to stay that way, yeah? I’ve got a lot to handle right now,” Fuyuhiko sighed. Nagito was still shredding his arm up, but he could feel one finger tapping for attention.

“What? What do you need? Please, no bullshit, Nagito. I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to do,” Fuyuhiko said. He was practically yelling in his panic, and the people across the aisle turned to glare.

It was several seconds before Nagito could gather enough breath to speak. Fuyuhiko saw that awful smile stretch across his face again, like somebody had twisted his frown the wrong way round. “Aha, I’m sorry to trouble you, Fuyuhiko, but I think I might be having a panic attack.”

“What?” Fuyuhiko felt like he was going to have a panic attack too. “Why? What’s going on?”

“I can’t seem to catch my breath. And the cabin has been spinning for several minutes.”

“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you say anything?” Fuyuhiko hurriedly pushed Nagito’s head down as far as it would go before it bumped the seat in front. “Fucking… think of things you can see or something? Shit, I don’t remember.”

“Five things you can see,” Kazuichi chimed in. “Is he really gonna pass out? Hajime is gonna kill us.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill him for leaving this shit to us! How stupid can you get?”

“Ahh, I’m such a nuisance. If I’d known I’d react in such a shameful way, I’d have been sure to take a seat away from all the Ultimates. Why are you taking care of someone like me?”

“Nagito, shut up, this isn’t your fault,” Fuyuhiko said shortly. “Stop babbling on about ultimates and do the panic attack thing. Listen to Kazuichi, he knows how to do it.”

Nagito did as he was told, working through the grounding techniques with Kazuichi while Fuyuhiko held onto his shoulders feeling helpless. Nagito was shaking so hard it was difficult not to drop him altogether. He didn’t pass out, but even after the grounding Nagito looked far from what you’d consider calm. He was grey-white when Fuyuhiko carefully hauled him back upright.

“Are you okay..?”

The smile came back, though it seemed a lot more tired than manic this time. “Ah… I don’t think so, Fuyuhiko.”

“Well. At least you’re honest. Can you tell me how you’re feeling? Physically, I mean. Clearly I see you’re fucked mentally. And please stop smiling like that, you’re creeping me out,” Fuyuhiko said.

Nagito finally released his grip on Fuyuhiko’s arm, his nails coated with blood. He bent forward slowly, carefully, like he was terrified any sudden movements would send him spiralling again, and let his elbows rest on his knees. “I still feel slightly lightheaded. And nauseous. I’d still like to get off.”

Fuyuhiko examined the long scratches on his arm, sighing and mopping the blood with his sleeve. “Well, you’d have a long drop if you tried to get off now. You should cut your damn fingernails too. I’m going to get Hajime.” He turned to Kazuichi. “Watch him for a minute, okay? I don’t fucking care about drawing the short straw anymore, I can’t handle this.” Fuyuhiko scrambled over Kazuichi’s lap into the aisle, ignoring the flight attendant yelling for him to remain in his seat until the seatbelt signs went off.

“Hey! What did you mean drawing the short straw?” Kazuichi called behind him. Fuyuhiko didn’t look back.

“Hajime!” Fuyuhiko yelled when he was still more than six aisles away from the startled man. “You’re swapping with me!” He lowered his voice when he reached Hajime’s seat, but only marginally. “I can’t handle this. I don’t know how you expected Komeada to react to this shit, but whatever you thought, it’s worse. Way fucking worse. And I can’t help him. So go fucking do it yourself.”

“Well, I was going to swap as soon as the seatbelt signs were off,” Hajime said pointedly.

“I don’t give a shit. Look at my arm! Your fucking boyfriend nearly ripped it off at the elbow.” Fuyuhiko brandished his scratched, bloodied arm, and Hajime looked genuinely shocked.

“Oh my God…” He stood up hastily, clinging to the seats in front as the plane was still slightly off-balance. “I’m sorry, Fuyuhiko. I didn’t expect him to panic so much. He never said anything much about it when I asked.”

“Yeah, well, no offence, Hajime, but you can be as thick as three short planks sometimes. So if he implied anything, I don’t doubt you missed it,” Fuyuhiko snapped, taking Hajime’s empty seat - next to Chiaki, thank goodness. She hadn’t even looked up from her Switch this whole time. Perfect.

“I have taken some offence…” Hajime mumbled, then turned to go back down the aisle, trying hard not to catch the eyes of the other passengers staring like they were all part of a circus act. He was pretty sure the whole class was going to get banned from this airline. Gundham had been in trouble already for taking his hamsters out of their little travelling cage - several times. He was insulted by the insistence of the staff that all pets had to be contained, both by their labelling of his hamsters as mere pets and from their implication that his dark devas could ever be contained.

Hajime followed the sounds of more disgruntled passengers to Nagito’s seat. He was in the middle now, hunched over one of those white sick bags, while Kazuichi awkwardly patted his back. He looked relieved to see Hajime, beckoning frantically. “Come help me! I think he’s gonna spew. Weird that it’s not me for once.”

Hajime sighed, struggling to shuffle past his friends to get to Nagito’s other side, squashed by the window. Nagito didn’t acknowledge him. Hajime could see he had his eyes closed, his face strangely calm and smooth, though his breathing was erratic.

“Hey, Nagito? You hearing me?” Hajime called, tapping the other man’s pale cheek.

“Did I drive Fuyuhiko away?” Nagito said, voice strained. “I’m not surprised. To bother the Ultimates with the problems of an insignificant nobody like me.”

“Dude, shut up,” Kazuichi groaned. “Nobody thinks that. Stop being so weird. Fuyuhiko just doesn’t know how to look after people.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up? I doubt you’ll throw up, you wouldn’t eat anything this morning,” Hajime said.

At that exact moment, almost as if to pointedly prove him wrong, Nagito made a choked retching sound and ducked his head down further, cringing.

“Oookay. Or not. Um. You’re okay,” Hajime muttered, placing a wary hand on Nagito’s hair to keep it out of the way. It was strange hair; soft yet thick at the same time, and it poofed up determinedly no matter how many times Ibuki tried him out with different hairstyles.

The seatbelt signs were now off, so Kazuichi stood up hastily, trying to shield Nagito from the people hurrying up the aisle to the bathrooms. Hajime was grateful, but part of him wished he could switch places with Souda. He didn’t think he’d be having to coach Nagito through something so strangely intimate so soon into their… relationship? They’d never come out and actually said they were boyfriends, not even to each other, but their classmates seemed to think they were a couple.

As Nagito really hadn’t eaten much of anything all day, the actual vomiting didn’t last too long, but the dry heaving continued for several agonising minutes, and the nausea remained indefinitely. But Nagito felt safe to lift him head, his pale cheeks dusted with pink. He smiled shakily at Hajime. “How embarrassing. I caused a scene in front of all these people. You must be lamenting the day you set eyes on me.”

“Stop,” Hajime sighed, taking the soiled bag and handing it to Kazuichi.

“Hajime!” Souda squealed, hastily handing it off to a flight attendant, who offered a bottle of water for Nagito in response. Her smile didn’t slip once. Hajime was impressed by her poker face.

“Drink,” Hajime prompted, forcing the bottle into Nagito’s hands. “I want you to try eating something later too. You’re going to pass out.”

Kazuichi sat down again, glancing at Nagito. “You feeling… okay now? Like as okay as you can?”

Nagito took a long drink of water, eyes blank. Then he smiled again, that strange, forced smile. “I really am pathetic, aren’t I? Causing such a dramatic spectacle over something that happened years ago. I don’t deserve such attention from the Ultim-“

“Stop!” Hajime took Nagito’s face in his hands, forcing him to meet his eyes. Hajime thought he saw something flicker in them, some semblance of an honest emotion. “Nagito, can you please stop trying to act like you don’t have feelings. I know you’re scared. And you know what? It’s okay. It’s completely fucking normal to feel like this right now. I shouldn’t have left you. That was me being dense, and I’m sorry. But you can stop pretending. It’s just me here - and Kazuichi, but he’ll understand too. He’s scared of everything.”

“I am not!” Kazuichi cried, outraged.

Hajime didn’t break eye contact with Nagito, both breathing heavily. Nagito glared back at first, his face twisting into a scowl, but Hajime didn’t falter.

“Let me in,” Hajime muttered. “I know you, for God’s sake. You’re not gonna scare me off. It’s okay to need help. Please.”

Another silence for several long, tense seconds. Then - finally, amazingly - Nagito made a soft frustrated noise, lunged forwards and wound his arms around Hajime’s neck so tightly that for a second Hajime thought he’d messed up so badly Nagito was trying to throttle him.

“Hey, careful,” Hajime said, but his voice was gentle and he didn’t try to pry Nagito off. Nagito let his forehead rest on Hajime’s shoulder, his hair falling to shield his face completely. Hajime snaked his own arms awkwardly around Nagito’s slender waist. He could feel Nagito shaking, feel the warm puff of his breathing against his shoulder. The shaking never eased, but as time passed the breathing seemed to calm slightly.

Nagito didn’t speak as he clung to Hajime for dear life. Not a single word. But Hajime hadn’t really expected him to. This was already a degree of vulnerability that Nagito was completely unaccustomed to showing anyone, let alone his almost-boyfriend, his classmates and an entire plane full of strangers. It was a good place to start.

Kazuichi watched them slightly bitterly. “It’s alright for some. I wouldn’t mind someone to cuddle up to,” he muttered.

“That’s your other talent. Ultimate Third Wheel,” Hajime quipped.

Their row of seats was reasonably peaceful after that, though Hajime could hear the laughter and yelling from their classmates further back. He hoped the sensible members of the group could stop them causing too much trouble. Hajime couldn’t go tell them to knock it off himself; whenever he moved at all Nagito would tighten his grip.

He sat there, hour after hour, until he had to pry Nagito off him for a bathroom break. It wasn’t easy. Nagito fought him and clung on as much as he could, though Hajime explained he’d be back in five minutes.

“Look, cling onto Kazuichi while I go pee,” Hajime suggested. Kazuichi didn’t look overly enthusiastic about that idea, but he didn’t protest.

Nagito sighed. He slowly drew back his arms, and whispered three breathy little words into Hajime’s shirt before he went, perhaps the most raw, vulnerable words Hajime had ever heard Nagito say: “Please come back.”

“I will. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured.

Nagito shifted shakily in his seat, turned to Kazuichi and lunged at him too, wrapping his arms around his neck. Kazuichi squealed and whined that he was being strangled, but he didn’t shove Nagito away. Hajime almost felt like they were new parents, passing their newborn between them: “I’ll hold him for a bit, you go to the loo.”

There was a queue for the tiny airplane bathrooms. Hajime stood impatiently, wriggling his cramped shoulders and rocking back on his heels; he was glad Nagito seemed to be trusting him more, but he was pretty stiff after sitting in the same position for hours.

Two women ahead of Hajime in the queue seemed to be having an animated discussion about something, and when Hajime caught the word “school” he started to listen properly.

“I don’t know what sort of school they come from, but they’re a strange bunch,” one lady hissed. “There’s an odd boy in the row ahead of me, one of that lot, who has a collections of rodents, all free from their cage! Running all over the seat trays! Well, that’s not very hygienic, is it? But when I told him as much, he gave me the most incredibly rude answer.”

“Young people have such foul mouths these days,” the other lady agreed.

“No, he wasn’t swearing. It was ever so strange, almost as if he was… well, you’ll think I sound silly. But it was like he was cursing me.”

It was a good job for Hajime that the toilet became available and the lady rushed inside, because he was biting his cheeks to contain his laughter. When he’d used the loo himself and gone back to release Kazuichi from Nagito’s vice grip, he recited the story for both of them.

Kazuichi laughed, poking Nagito gently. “There you are, Nagito. No need to worry. No matter how weird we are, we can always count on Gundham to be weirder.”

Nagito didn’t respond, but Hajime saw a hint of a smile - a real smile - on his lips before he buried his face in Hajime’s neck again.

[andilovetowrite]

Initial Shyness(P.P x Reader)

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Confessions are cute, right? Especially when you have been waiting for years to say it out loud. But what happens when the initial shyness wears off? And we all know Peter isn’t as innocent as he seems ;)

Warnings: Nothing but some unending fluff. Lots of Peter rambling and awkward kisses :)

Based on a request, you can find it here!

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to find more of my work :)

“C’mon, you can do it!” hissed MJ from beside you. She pushed you toward’s Peter’s door, making you stumble. Still, you tried to hold back against MJ, who you realized, was freakishly strong.

“I can’t! Nope. No way.” You shook your head, crossing your arms. MJ sighed, probably too tired for your crap.

“Oh come on Y/N! I cannot hear another word about Peter again.”, she said, looking too serious.

“But-”

“Not one more word”

“I-”

“So what you are going to do is go into his room, go up to him, confess your feeling, and then kiss him.” She looked at you expectantly. “Am I clear?”

“Uh- just one component you are missing out on….I don’t have the balls to tell Peter I like him!”

MJ rolled her eyes, coming to stand next to you. “Yes, you don’t. And that’s why, I am really really sorry for what I am going to do next.” You didn’t even have time to figure out what she meant before you were pushed into Peter’s room harshly by Ned and MJ. As soon as most of you was inside, they shut the door behind you and you heard the door lock behind you.

“Oh COME ON!”, you said, trying to open the door.

“You know what to do!”, MJ said back, her voice muffled. You sighed, turning around to see Peter looking at you, a slight smile on his face. Oh, and what an amazing smile he had. His eyes crinkled, and small dimples showed up on his face. His pearly whites showed through his pink lips that you have dreame-

“Hey Y/N...what’s up?” Peter asked, snapping you out of your Peter-sized daydream.

“Huh-uh, so um- MJ just wanted some-uh alone time with- with uh Ned. Yeah”, you said, trying to think of anything other than the fact that you had a gigantic crush on your best friend.

Peter’s eyebrows scrunched up, confused. “Why would she want to talk to Ned?”

“Uh-um wanting to know something about uh-English…”

“Okay”, Peter said, drawing out the word. You could see he didn’t believe you so you did the most logical thing. A logical course of action that anybody in your situation would do. Lie.

“Well, she actually wanted me to show you something, um-on the roof”, you said, biting your lip, trying to figure out what to do once you got on the roof.

“Alright, let’s go!”, Peter said quickly, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed it, feeling the warmth seep into your body and make it’s way up to your cheeks. You held on, knowing that this would be the last time if Peter didn’t reciprocate your feelings.

Jumping out the window, you let out a small yelp as Peter grabbed your waist, holding onto you tight as he pulled you two to the rooftop. Landing onto the ground, you held on for dear life, looking at Peter.

“Give me a warning next time! I thought you were going to chuck me out the window…”

“Oh please, then who would I have to annoy all the time?”, he asked teasingly. You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in.

“Well, you would lose your best friend…”

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t see the way Peter’s face contorted into a grimace as he looked down.

“Yeah, but not only my best friend but the coolest person in Queens!” You cracked a smile, a red tint making its way up to your neck as you heard him speak. “I mean, you are so damn smart and pretty...Not to mention, so badass. I mean, I saw how you elbowed Flash in the-”

“Okay, let’s not relive it” You interjected. Peter smiled at that, walking both of you over to the other side of the roof. “Where are we going?”, you asked, confused.

“Uh, so I just wanted to-uh. Just come and see this”, Peter said, scratching his head slightly. Not knowing what to do, you just followed him, hoping you would see what he was talking about. And you weren’t expecting this.

A plush rose blanket spread out across half of the roof, with rose petals thrown here and there. In the middle of it was a small picnic box, with food sticking out of it. You could see some books stacked in the corner and a couple pillows as well. The light reflected off the buildings around you, giving the entire space an orangish-pinkish glow. You were so engrossed in the spread, you didn’t even notice Peter shakily taking out a small bouquet of roses from behind him.

“Peter, wha-what is this?”, you asked, shocked.

Bringing out the roses, he held it out to you, a blush the same color as the flowers making it’s way up to both of your cheeks. “I-um, heard what you and uh MJ were talking about a-a couple um days ago. So-I uh decided to ask Mr Stark to help me out with thi-”

“Wait a second. Tony Stark helped you out with this?!”, you asked, shocked at why your dad would help Peter out with this small thing. I mean, it-he shouldn’t care so much about Peter’s best friend, right?

“Yeah-uh, so I um set this out for you, and asked MJ to help me get you in my roo-”

“MJ has been in on this?”, you asked, suddenly remembering how she and Peter had been talking discreetly a few days ago.

Peter just nodded, looking down as a dopey smile made it’s way to his face. You cleared your throat, trying to figure out what was happening. You weren’t dumb, but you didn’t want to jump to conclusions to quickly.

“Why-why would yo-is this-uh”, you tried to speak, with little success. You could feel you face heat up in embarrassment, so you just stared at the flowers in Peter’s hands.

“I-uh really, um like you Y/N. Like more than a-a friend. And much more than a best friend. I know yo-you may not like me back, but I couldn’t keep it in any longe-”

You know it’s rude to interrupt someone when they are speaking. But you couldn’t hear anyother word come out of his mouth, because otherwise you would’ve melted. So you did the next best thing. You kissed him. Hard.

His words got caught in his throat as his lips met yours. And for a second you were worried you went too far, pulling back. But as soon as he felt you doing that, his hands went to your hair, pulling you flush against him, kissing you back with fevour.

You wish you could’ve stopped time. Right there. During a beautiful sunset, on the roof surrounded by rose petals, and with Peter in your arms. And in your mouth. But sadly, you needed air to breathe, so you pulled away, probably looking like a fish straight out of the water. Opening your eyes, you could see Peter’s face. His pupils were dilated and his entire face was a pink hue. His lips were plump and red, but pulled up in a lovesick smile.

You knew you had the exact same expression on your face. Smiling softly, you looked at Peter, and at the same time, you both said.

“I really like you”

“I really like you”

Giggling, you hesitantly took the crushed flowers from Peter, breathing them in.

“They got squashed”, Peter said, running his hands over the petals.

You shrugged, not caring. “Well, it wasn’t only your fault. I think it was a two-person thing..”, you said cheekily, smirking at Peter.

He laughed, throwing his arms over you and pulling you in for a hug. You breathed in his signature scent and melted against him, your heart full. It would’ve been perfect if not for the eruption of clapping and whistles from behind you.

“Wha-”

“GOOD JOB PETE!”, MJ yelled, running to the both of you, Ned and May close behind. Crashing into you, you laughed as she looked at Peter. “Better take care of her, got it?”

Peter nodded, kissing my cheek. And just as he did that, a flash went off fro next to you. “Nice job Underoos. Watch the lips though. Don’t get too close to my daughter.” Tony’s voice went through the air, making you jump.

“Dad?!”, you said, shocked.

“Mr Stark?!”

“Yes yes, I was spying on you. But at least I’m not like Nat and Thor. They have been circling the building for the last 15 minutes.”

Tony said, shrugging as he pointed to the sky, where you could see the two of them waving at you.

“Oh god”, you groaned, throwing your head back. Peter looked at you, white as a ghost, before giving a scared nod at your dad.

“Yes sir, I’ll be very-um-uh good to Y/N. I mea-she is uh so pretty-wait that’s not-uh and smart- but that’s not-,” he stuttered, eyes wide. Helping out the poor boy, you shooed everyone away.

“Bye, dad. Please take Nat and Thor home with you. We’ll be back soon”

“Not later than 11, got it? And remember Peter, hands to yourself.”

“Yes M-Mr Stark”

Giggling, you watched as everyone walked away, leaving you with Peter. “Sorry bout that”

“Oh, it’s fine. I got the girl of my dreams tonight. Nothing could beat that” Blushing you pulled him in for a short kiss, before hugging him tightly.

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

Wish you say that was the end of the story. That you both lived happily ever after. But sadly, with a group of friends and family, privacy was not the best. And you were very sorry to say that you scarred more people than you had hoped to scar in the next few months.

The first victim though was none other than Aunt May. And boy oh boy did she not look at you two for weeks after the incident.

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

Alright! This was really fun to write, and this is such a cute idea, so I kinda want to make this into a series where people walk in on Peter and Y/N, so let’s see where it goes. But the next part will be out in a couple of days once my exams end :) Also, on that note, wish me luck, since I have my math exam tomorrow. Anyway, until next time!

Taglist: @a--1--1--3 @idkatee @eternalscribblesforthesoul @loudbluepancake @poisondevotion @scram1326 @t-hollanderr @305weasley @starknik22 @marvelfansworld @lou-la-lou @lomlparker @marvelfansworld @wowitsel @vanteguccir @fullcheesecakeengineer @ifyouknewhowmiserylovedme @ladykxxx08

[archerdaryl]

I’ll Be Delicate

The reader shows Daryl Dixon that there’s still peace to be found in this world with soft words and delicate fingers.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Word Count: 2.1k (approximately) Tags: sweet and soft with some humour n gloom, sfw Notes: Anon requested a simple hair braiding fic and I had to be extra and turn it into an entire comfort fic. I’m not sorry. 

@bakedcrispss​ @phoenixblack89​ @btsiguess-kpop​

Lanterns burnt low and the smell of sage and tobacco lingered in the air throughout the small but comfortable basement on the far side of Alexandria. In the middle of the room was a large sofa, plush with semi-clean clothes stacked up on one half while a sleepy Belgian Malinois lay on the other, still and complaisant. 

Daryl Dixon, on the other hand, sat at his makeshift desk by the window. In one hand, a sharp dagger, the other an arrow he had been cutting away at for the past hour. His skin was pink and freckled and his hair damp, freshly showered after a gruelling day outside of the walls that ended in blood and tears. 

Losing someone in the community was never easy. He almost felt he should have been thankful it wasn’t somebody he was particularly close to, but that shit hardly mattered since he and Rick had to go back and let the poor bastard’s wife know he wasn’t coming home. 

He couldn’t bring himself to think about it now that he was back within the safety of Alexandria, not with all he had waiting for him there. He didn’t think he could cope with where his mind would take him, so instead he took to working with his hands — carving and cutting until his mind emptied and he didn’t have to think at all.

Eventually the stairs creaked and Daryl glowered to himself, figuring it would be Carol checking in on him again. He loved her, she was his best friend, but sometimes she just did too much. When the inevitable knock on wood came, he looked up ready to grunt in acknowledgment. Instead, his features softened, his chest heaving with relief.

It was you.

The corners of your mouth quirked into a sweet smile as you stepped through the doorway. He noticed it didn’t reach your eyes and he reached out to you, taking your hand and gently pulling you closer to him where he could wrap a muscular arm around the back of your thighs and look up at you with those crystalline blues. 

You placed your arm around his shoulder, fingers immediately finding their way to the hair at the nape of his neck. You played with it absentmindedly, your sole focus on the man before you, eyes so full of curiosity and care. 

“Now how is it you’re cleaner than I am?” 

Daryl smirked in response and squeezed you lightly. You were certainly grubbier than he was, but he didn’t care one bit considering grubby was his default state. The old shirt you were wearing was torn at your midriff and it took him a moment to realise it was one of his. He pulled at the tear carefully, thankful only to find a graze rather than something worse.

“Yer back early.” He finally acknowledged.

You hummed in response, fingers now tenderly raking through the archer’s hair to reveal more of the gruff face you liked so much. You took in his features, tracing every scar and drawing together every freckle. 

“Mich’ radioed through. Hilltop had one too many people to spare anyway.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly, but didn’t question it. If Michonne wanted to grant him a little bit of peace after the day they’d had, who was he to say no? Besides, Hell itself would freeze over before he ever turned you away. 

“I like you like this.” You continued, “All soft and warm.”

“Yeah?”

A year or so ago he would have resented being called soft. It was a fighting word, something his idiot brother would use to provoke him into doing something reckless, but when it came from your lips it felt like he was being awarded a Purple Heart. 

Sure, you were talking about his shower fresh skin, but that didn't matter. You reminded him that he had been brave and let you in, that after years of being alone and afraid, he had earned the right to be soft. 

Pulling away from his grip, your hands came to your belt buckle. You unfastened it and slowly shimmied out of the dark blue jeans that were stained with speckles of old Walker blood. That old shirt of Daryl’s you’d been wearing, tucked in at the waist, fell free halfway down your thighs.

“Like a damn dress on you, girl.” 

You shot a playful scowl at him and sauntered towards the couch, moving the pile of clothes to another surface before collapsing onto the cushion with a grunt. Dog perked up and you scratched him behind the ears.

“Not like you to complain.” You sighed. 

Watching you like this, comfortable and free, Daryl felt something building in his chest. It wasn’t panic. Maybe it was fear? He wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew he wanted to wrap himself up in you like you were wrapped up in his shirt. Anything to keep you close so he never had to worry about you not coming home.

“Weren’t complainin’.”

It was your turn to reach out to him, coax him over from his attempts of escape. You may have been exhausted, but losing anyone from the community was a nasty reminder of how fragile this life really was. 

Daryl stood and mosied over. Dog was comfortable right where he was next to you, though Daryl wouldn’t try to get rid of him even if he wanted to. You shuffled up a bit, angling yourself against the inner corner before tugging on his forearm — a silent plea to give into you and just be. He spent so much of his time looking out for you, making sure you were okay that it also became a way of making himself feel better. You loved him for it, but you desperately wanted to take care of him too.

He finally sat. It was a start. You kept your fingers on his skin, your thumb caressing it gently and he turned his head to watch your hand at work. His eyes soon drifted to your legs. They were bruised but still strong and inviting. You pulled at him again and he finally met your gaze. 

“I’m right here.” You assured him, “I’m not going anywhere.”

But you could. That was what was tearing him apart.

Daryl eventually nodded and shuffled up, taking your legs and placing them over his lap so that you were practically sitting on him but not quite. He loved the weight of you, loved you dressed in nothing but one of his old band shirts so that he could flex his hand against the warmth of your thighs. You were his anchor, keeping him from spiralling just by being right there in your arms. 

With one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders, you used your free hand to trace the far side of his jaw with your thumb. He leaned into your touch and you sweetly kissed his shoulder before pulling him in closer to you, the hand behind his head now weaving into his hair again.

“Think Dog is getting jealous.”

A soft snort escaped him then, “I’d be jealous too.”

“Don’t need to be. You got me.”

He adjusted his position, allowing himself to lean into you a little bit more. You continued to play with his hair, twirling it between your fingers. The tension in his body slowly began to melt away, evident from the long exhale that drew from his lips. 

“Still don’ know how the fuck tha’ happened.”

And that was the truth. To this day Daryl had no idea what you saw in him. You could tell him to his face -- in fact you had -- and he’d still question it. He’d grown up believing he was no good but even if that were the case then, again, who the fuck was he to deny you? 

“The world works in mysterious ways Daryl Dixon.” A smirk tugged at your lips, “That and I had to make the first move.”

“Shuddup.” He retorted quickly, “Woulda’ done it eventually.”

It was your turn to laugh. Looking back on your journey together, it was honestly miraculous you’d ended up where you were at all. He was oblivious when it came to women and you weren’t exactly someone that was easy to pin down. Your affection for him snuck up on you, but once it hit you it did so with full force and you weren’t going to risk not knowing.

“I almost wish I’d waited now.”

“‘M glad ya’ didn’t.“ He confessed, squeezing your thigh with his calloused hand, “‘M glad you’re here.”

You pressed a kiss to his temple then wiggled, adjusting your position so that you could angle yourself against him comfortably. You could use both of your hands to play with his hair now. He didn’t even try to pretend he didn’t like it, because he did. He liked all of the attention you gave him. 

“So, how would you have done it?”

“Dunno. Don’ matter now.” His brow quirked as he glanced at you, “I kissed ya first. Don’ that count for somethin’?”

Well, there was that. It was one of few times Daryl had truly caught you off guard. You were pissed off about something, wouldn’t stop going on and on at him even though it wasn’t his fault. 

“In my defence, you kissed me to shut me up.”

“Worked didn’ it?”

“Haven’t gotten rid of me since.” 

Delicate fingers had taken a few thin strands of his hair, tucking them one behind the other aimlessly to form a subtle braid as you both reminisced. You sometimes couldn’t believe how long his hair had gotten, but you quite liked it. You never took too much off when he let you cut it. 

“Wouldn’t ever.” He mumbled shyly, “Ain’t gon’ get luckier than this.”

“Not sure I’d call it luck. Been through too damn much for the world not to pay it forward.” You truly believed your words as they spilled from your lips, “We deserve a bit of good. You deserve it.”

Whether he agreed or not, he wasn’t sure how to respond. If it were true, he had already gotten that little bit of good by finding you. He would be perfectly happy if that was all the good he ever got in this new world of blood and rot. He didn’t need anything more. He couldn’t help but wonder if you felt the same. 

You were partially preoccupied, braiding his hair gently piece by piece and savouring the sweet moment between you both. His hand caressed your thigh, traced circles with his fingers while you leaned into each other’s touch. It set your skin aflame, poked coals in the pit in your stomach, but you pushed that feeling down until when or if he pulled you in.

Truthfully, you didn’t think much about the future anymore. You couldn’t afford to. It put you on edge, made you panic and do stupid things. It was easier to live in the moment and appreciate what you had, and waking up to Daryl everyday was more than you ever expected to have when you were first taken in at Alexandria. Hell, you felt lucky to make a few friends after being on your own for so long. 

You sighed happily as you combed out the loose braid with your fingers and began again, taking thicker pieces of clean dark hair. He smelled like your shampoo which tickled you a little, but you didn’t complain. It wasn’t like he was going to seek out his own. Piece by piece, the braid grew and you could feel him relax further, the circles he was drawing on your thigh growing slower. You bet that if you turned to look, his eyes had closed. 

“The hell you doin’ girl?” He finally mumbled. 

He always called you that. The way he said it made it feel like there was supposed to be a my in front of it. Sometimes if you were being especially irritating he’d slip a lil in there as if that was supposed to deter you, but it never did.

“Shhh. Stay still.” The response came with a soft chuckle. 

As you finished another braid, you admired your work with a grin. His eyes flit open as if he knew you were up to something, brows soon furrowing as he looked at you. It wasn’t long until they relaxed, that smile of yours turning him into putty in your hands. 

“Do I wanna know?”

“Do you wanna know I’ve been braiding your hair for the last… however long.” Your words were dry, bordering on teasing, “No, probably not.”

That infamous scowl of his tugged at his grizzly features, though there was no bark to his bite. You cupped his face, gently coaxing it towards you. 

“This suits you.”

He thought you suited him too. 

[brownandblackpearls]

🦇𝒯he  𝒱isitor (Alucard Tepes x BlackReader) Pt.3

PART 3 SUMMARY:

You’re given a lackluster tour of Dracula’s castle that adds more questions than it answers, yet your quarters are beyond admirable and enough to forget the mysteries for just tonight. His ice is slowly melting, but not enough for you to see anything certain. To help speed things along, you decide to be a friendly guest and cook breakfast for the both of you.

─── Alucard x black female reader

─── imagery + fiction

─── explicit smut

─── Fantasy, vampires, hurt/comfort, enemies-to-friends-to-lovers, magic user, cute bats, gardening, cooking, cottagecore MC, castlecore Alucard.

☾ previous. ☾ next.

┌───────────━┿──┿━──────────┐

└───────────━┿──┿━──────────┘

Your host is as gracious as the circumstances allow, you begin to realize. As immense and as glorious as the few parts of the castle you’ve seen are, your host confides that they were once even grander. He speaks briefly of there being a battle of sorts. He doesn’t say when or why, despite prodding, but it helps to fill in some of the gaps you have.

Spying some of the deeper gouges and gashes in the tough stone, you can’t help but wonder exactly what he was battling.

“You won the battle, then...?” You ask.

“Something like that,” he says simply enough, but it reads rather ominously to your ears.

You pause as you follow him, trying your best not to sound too afraid. You hope no enemies from this past battle still sneak about...

“So it’s just you and I, here…?”

He turns on you slowly, and a familiar dread rises in your gut as you realize you’ve angered him once again. Unfortunately for you, you’re not sure how. His features appear natural and still, but what you are feeling under your skin hints at the truth to his demeanor. You catch a hint of fang as he speaks, and you wonder if it’s intentional.

“Yes. Does that suit your plans?”

You hesitate, unsure.

“I…’plans’? I don’t—“

“—Allow me to assist you. Silver is a trifle. Stakes are laughable. Garlic does nothing, and no holy symbol nor water—no matter what wayward priest you find to bless it—will help your cause. Sunlight is a pleasure to my skin, which heals from fire, knife wounds, and all other maladies in conception, if you even manage to pierce it. If a Belmont had trouble making me bleed, you surely will. The few things that I am susceptible to, are magic, decapitation, and stakes, but then again, who isn’t? I implore you to try though, and wish you luck. Believe me, you will need it.”

Like before, as if you’ve been transported back behind the walls of books, he is upon you, and you cannot help but tremble. The ruby red is back, flickering just behind his sunstorm eyes. You are beside yourself but you do your best to think quickly as to what nonexistent offense he’s percieved.

‘Does he think I mean to kill him? How even could he assume such a thing…? From me, of all people...?’

“I do not wish to make an attempt on your life,” you say slowly, clearly. “My magic is very poor, but not my behavior towards hosts kind enough to allow me in their homes.” You put a heavy emphasis on the ‘host’ portion, hoping to remind him of his promise from before.

“Enlighten me then,” he asks in a tone that seeks anything but enlightenment. “Why do you want to know if we are alone, if not to better plan something that would require isolation?”

You find yourself frowning.

“You…you completely misunderstand me, sir…” you begin, stepping back. “I just…I asked if we were alone because….I…I…”

Something in your face must call out to his reason, because the red drains out from his eyes and he steps away, reeling back. The grieved look returns.

“You’re afraid,” he realizes suddenly, aloud. “You want to ensure nothing else lurks in these walls.”

You nod, happy to be comprehended, for once.

“Yes,” you insist. “The damage from the battle...I see it, and I think that your foes were very strong. I only hope they were all defeated and that it is just you and I here, alone, sir—er, Alucard.”

He nods, looking somewhat embarrassed now.

“It is only us, in these walls.”

You sigh happily, glad to have your fears discarded. The castle was still scary and intimidating of course, as large as it was. It felt as though something had to be tiptoeing somewhere around in the fortress, yet...he would know the place better than you, wouldn’t he...? And if he says its just you two, then hopefully that is so.

“Good,” you sigh. 

He makes no move at the sound of his name in your mouth, but he does think on your words before bowing his head ever so lightly.

“I apologize,” he admits. “I keep...jumping to conclusions. I made you fret after giving my word. Forgive me.”

You watch him with pleasant surprise, the corner of your mouth quirking up. 

So there were manners somewhere in there.

“You’re forgiven. I’m sure you must have had a rough go of assassins, being who you are and all.”

“I’ve had my share,” he admits, before turning to advance through the corridor. You don’t have time to think about his ‘share’, trying to keep up. You know he can move far faster than he is showing now, and you appreciate the effort he makes to go at a human pace so that you may follow closely behind. 

Deep down, you are still worried about what lays in the castle. You do feel safer, knowing something supernatural like him is at your side, and vowed to make sure no harm befalls you.

“Well,” you continue conversationally, trailing after him, “thank you for soothing my concerns. I feel all the safer for it.””

“...Odd,” he comments. “Hm?”

“You, feeling safer alone in Dracula’s castle, with a dhampir.”

You chuckle.

“I suppose it is odd when you put it that way. Just work on that temper of yours, and I’ll really be right as rain!” The jest is funny enough for you, but it doesn’t land so well with your present company.

He scowls, but the real heat is gone. Energized from knowing he is bound by promise and that there are no others here, you feel bold enough to place an assuring hand on his arm. 

He feels strong and solid, like stone. He stiffens before pulling away, peering down at you.

You try your best not to look too hurt. You smile assuringly instead.

“Believe me, Alucard. I’m not here to try and do you in. I mean, look at me! You think I’m foolish enough to attempt such a thing on you when I could hardly handle that crowd of ruffians outside?”

You laugh then, slapping a hand on your leg. It is the bare one from the rip in your dress, and the smack is much louder than you anticipate. It’s enough to silence you into meek embarrassment.

Alucard simply watches you before turning around and leading you on.

You follow him silently now, and you quickly find that the tour is rather lacking. He says little about the winding halls you are led through, and you can’t help but wonder the stories of each hallway, of each room. Will you ever learn of them?

The place is monstrous, and so the soles of your feet are a bit sore by the time you reach what Alucard regards as your quarters.

“You will stay here,” he gestures past a large emblemed door into a wide room. 

You peer inside, finding a beautifully canopied bed, heavy curtains attached to what you can only assume is a gigantic window. There is a large bookcase, a fireplace, an armchair, a desk, and a small door leading into another room. 

“That is your bathing room,” he notes.

When you stare at him curiously, he explains.

“My father possessed immense technological advancements,” he says quickly, as if he’s explained it several times before. Perhaps he has.

‘So his father is Dracula,’ you think. ‘But the stories of Dracula were much more…gruesome and cruel. If this is his son...this man is certainly scary when roused, but…’

His deep voice breaks you out of your reverie.

“The washing room has a basin called a ‘tub’. There is also a bidet with a smaller basin called a toilet. No need for outhouses or bringing up jugs of water here. We have plumbing.”

Now, you’re utterly confused.

Alucard sighs.

“Just…follow me. I’ll show you.”

You do just that and watch, engrossed, as your host thoroughly lays out and points to every faucet, knob, and all of their uses. Before long, you ascend from a common traveling woman to an expert in an alternate world knowledgeable on things such as ‘plumbing’.

You beam at the tub and sink, too giddy with joy to hide it. You bounce a little, your hands drawing to your chest excitedly.

Alucard levels a raised brow at you, pausing.

“...Are you alright?”

You nod happily, twirling in the bathroom to face him.

“This place is incredible! Plumbing! Who would’ve thought? There was almost something like this I saw over the Eastern seas, but the people there called them…acq..acqueducts! They were these large beams that delivered their water…oh, but no matter! My hair! Goodness, it will be leagues easier…”

Alucard glances at your crown of curled, kinky locks before refocusing on you.

“How did you manage, before?”

“Oh, ponds. Streams. Rivers. The seaside. That sort of thing,” you say absently. “The chill of the water did wonders for my mane, but I felt like an icicle the entire time. And you say I can have heated, freshwater through these devices? I can’t lie, I’m ecstatic!”

Alucard nods shortly at that, watching you curiously, but seemingly unable to share your interest in the fixtures. Perhaps you’re more of an interest for him at this point than the plumbing. You eyeball his own healthy mane and assume he’s long been used to such luxuries.

“Oh, but…can I wash my garbs in the tub, too?”

Alucard tilts his head at that before realization sparks in his eyes.

“No. No, you’ll wear something else. That’s fairly ruined.”

You silently leave out the part that it is partially his fault, but he seems to catch on anyway.

“I…” he tries stiffly. “I apologize again. For before.”

“Oh?” You respond innocently. “For what? Scaring me? Yelling at me? Threatening my life? Tripping me?”

He sinks a little lower with each act. 

“All of it.”

“Oh! Well, then you’re forgiven. As much as I appreciate the apology, I have a feeling that this ‘tub’ will more than make up for it.”

Alucard seems to relax at that, showing you the cabinets with everything you’ll need.

“I’ll…” he trails off. “I’ll find you some clothing.”

He turns to leave, but you reach out to gently grip the tuft of white blouse peeking out from his sleeve. He turns, watching you sharply. 

He does not pull away, though. You call it progress.

“Alucard,” you say. “Thank you for your hospitality. Sincerely.”

He looks to the floor instead of your eyes—as if he’s afraid of what he’ll find there—before gently pulling away and wordlessly leaving the room.

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You are lucky enough to find interesting soaps and good-smelling candles before working the bath. With some maneuvering and much delight, you are able to conjure bubbles through use of items you’ve scavenged from the cabinets. You find washcloths, sponges, brushes, and an assortment of other things.

You want to wait for your host to return first, but as the minutes continue to pass you realize you need to take advantage of the hot water before it cools.

You shed your clothes, undo your hair, and step into the water-filled basin.

“God…” you whisper, goosebumps rising on your skin.

It feels incredible.

You sink into the water, a smile on your face. You haven’t felt something this good since traveling to hot springs in your more daring adventures. Back then, you had to evade the cultist locals for a hint of heated water. This was so different, as it was your own personal hot spring whenever you desired!

You sink deeper into the water for a bit before beginning to scrub and lather your journey off of you. You decide to empty and fill the tub once more, just because you can, and bathe a little more before feeling pristine to your liking.

Stepping out, you massage in some leftover body oil from your pack. You clean the basin before peeking out into your room.

There is no one present, but a new, soft nightdress lays comfortably on the chair. Your fireplace is even lit.

You smile to yourself as you step out and lift the nightdress, assessing it.

“So his bark is louder than his bite,” you decide aloud.

You change swiftly, and despite being in such an strange situation, once in the massive bed, you find sleep has come right on your heels. Your eyes almost slide shut until you hear a knock at your door.

You open your eyes and slip out of bed. You push open your door—which has a heavy lock, you now realize—to see Alucard, in low lantern light, gazing back at you.

“I trust you found everything,” he says, rather than asks. You hear the question for what it is.

“Yes,” you smile. “Thank you.”

He considers your expression for a long moment before nodding his affirmation.

“Hm. Very well. There is a lock on the door of your room…if that’s any consolation to any fears you may have. Feel free to use it. Good night then,” he says, turning to leave.

“Alucard?” You call.

When he waits for you without turning to face you, you speak.

“Where will you be staying?”

‘If I need you,’ you think. 

You soon realize that this may become a situation where Alucard hears something in your speech that is not really there. With a solemn look, and the absence of an anger just as disturbing as its presence, he points to a door just down the hall from you. You would be pleased if not for the expression on his face.

“Just there,” he says. 

You realize that due to the two misunderstandings being him assuming you want to kill him, that this is likely what this third time revolves around. 

“Alucard,” you try, “I don’t intend to condescend, but you must know, I only ask for my own concern. I’m happier to know that my host is nearby. I meant no ill will by it. I’d be a poor assassin, remember?”

“Yes,” he answers quietly, as if he really is just recalling it. “I remember.”

“You’d hear me before I even entered, I bet!”

“I would.”

“So there is nothing to worry about…right…?”

His stiff shoulders finally seem to relax an inch. 

“I suppose. In any case…You are not to enter my domain, under any circumstances, outside of imminent danger. It would be…unwise of you.”

You nod, unsure of what exactly he means but positive he that he does mean what he says.

“I will see you in the morning...?” 

He pauses at that, looking somewhat bewildered. 

“I…yes, you will.”

“Alright!” You nod, pleased. “Good night then.”

Closing the door, you turn to the large, firelit room and beam.

It is a princess’s quarters…no, a queen’s! You will live lavish while you’re here, it seems.

You lay on the soft mattress under the thick covers, knowing pleasure you’ve never felt before until sleep takes you gently into the night.

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When you wake, it is before the sun has fully broken into the sky. Pretty blues and pinks spill across the sky outside your window, so different from the cold colors of the day before. Rising in your nightgown, you spy a dress on the chair of your room. Alucard must have entered in your sleep. Had you locked the door...? You cannot recall. Under normal circumstances, traveling on the road, you would have never forgotten such a thing as utilizing a lock. For some reason, perhaps last night you felt you didn’t need to. 

You absently palm your neck for pinpricks of the vampiric sort, and find nothing.

‘Good enough for me, then.’

The dress lays before you, waiting

It is different, without any tears, and deep in its color. You pause before adorning it, turning this way and that in the looking glass before attempting to do something with your hair. 

‘I look rather stunning in this. Why does he have such nice women's clothing lying about, I wonder...?’

Once complete, you decide to do something as equally nice for your host as this dress was for you.

“Breakfast! I’ll make us breakfast. Dhampirs can eat food, right…? Now, if only I could find the kitchen…”

You spy your basket by the door. Another gift from your late-night visitor.

You pick up your newly returned basket from the room’s entrance, flipping over the blanket to spy your stolen vegetables still intact. 

You leave your rooms with a smile that slowly falls.

‘He said not to disturb him…perhaps I can find the kitchens myself? They must be on the first level, maybe the underground chambers, if anything. That’s how all castles are. I’d better start now if I hope to finish in time.’

You’re certain you will get lost, but you have a feeling that your host can easily find you again.

You pause, realizing something.

‘I hope I don’t find bottles of blood or something lying around…or something else’

On that sobering thought, you strap your dagger’s hilt tighter to your thigh. Alucard said you were both alone, but it couldn’t hurt to be vigilant.

You venture out and do your best to recreate the inverse of Alucard’s path to the great hall. After several turns and rerouting, you finally begin to recognize the way back to the grand hall. It takes far longer than you anticipated, and your soles begin to complain a little once you find the grand staircase.

With some exploration on the main floor, you finally come across a door leading into what appears to be a small kitchen. The floors are clean as are the pots and pans hanging from their hooks on the walls. You spy plenty of utensils, knives, and what appears to be another basin...plumbing. You will ask Alucard the name later.

You set down the basket, pleased to have reached your goal, and get to work.

“Can’t have just a vegetable scramble. He’s a literal dhampir, and I could use some protein.”

You can't find any aprons about, and so you wrap what looks to be a tablecloth around your pretty dress. No reason to ruin it with the trials of breakfast.

You hunt for eggs, meat, nuts, and anything of the protein type. After some pillaging, you are able to find all three and get to work. The eggs are small, and the meat is fox, rabbit, and fish instead of the typical villager fare of cows and pigs, but you make it work. You wash your hands and begin to carve out fillets, prep vegetables from your basket, and luck upon some spices. You search for oil, but can only find butter, and so you do your best with it.

Soon enough, the kitchen begins to fill with the scents and fumes of a bountiful breakfast. You plate the spiced eggs, the braised meat, the sautéed vegetables, and fill a pitcher with water. You think about finding the secret garden nearby once more to perhaps make juice from berries and fruits, or even preserve. Turning to the wood table, you set everything down before finding your final item.

The loaf of bread is well hidden, but not well enough. It is a little stale, but not enough to discourage. You claim it and cut it before setting it out on the table as well.

Turning to wash your hands one final time, you are unsurprised to find Alucard stalking in the doorway of the kitchen when you turn back around.

“What are you doing...?” he grouses, clearly just having recently awoken.

“Cooking us breakfast,” you sass, “you’re welcome, by the way. Oh, uh...you can eat food, right...?”

Alucard’s sleepy demeanor slowly fades as he nods, his interest growing as the smells of food clearly begin to assault him and cause wonders for his mood.

“Well?” You say, undoing the tablecloth-apron and taking a seat for yourself. “What are you waiting for? Sit with me, let’s eat!”

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AN: Do not under any circumstances copy, repost, or edit any of my work. If you see someone do so, please let me know.

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