#this was a wip for weeks and i just finished it a couple days ago

[roboromantic]

ough I really oughta just pay for an Actual blender course instead of trying to teach myself via youtube tutorials and messing around bc holy adhd, batman

#I wanna MODEL I wanna SCULPT I wanna RIG and ANIMATE I wanna make MATERIALS I wanna figure out GEO NODES #and like. tutorials are nice and all but a lot of the time they don't generally explain /why/ things work #or what /exactly/ different tools do and are good for #I should probably try to focus on one aspect at a time. try to master modeling then sculpting then materials etc. #bc like ok I wanted to make a self-portrait kinda thing before the end of the month but things've been busy with my dad's fiance moving in #and also I've been in Minecraft hyperfixation mode for 2-3 weeks now with no sign of it letting up anytime soon #so I was spending more time gaming than learning blender #BUT a couple days ago I figured I could use that to my advantage and just. model my Minecraft skin #it's just cubes it couldn't be THAT hard right #*cue several hours of trying to figure out various ways of making materials bc I can't quite get them looking the way I want* #I did also make it a bit more interesting by making some stuff 3d and not just painted onto the cubes #I wanna try a couple more things before I post it tho #anyway point is I keep getting distracted and only really learning how to copy stuff #and sometimes not even that bc it doesn't work with the newest version or they skip a step that's obvious to THEM but not absolute beginners #I think part of it is I wanna share these Absolutely Perfect Finished projects when really I should be focusing on /making/ the project #I should start posting wips or something. make Yet Another sideblog for all my blender stuff #get distracted learning just enough html and css to make it look cool even though nobody looks at desktop versions of blogs anymore

[iam93percentstardust]

It's not just the commodification of fandom. It's not just the disinterest in wips in favor of completed stories. It's not just the unwillingness to take chances on new writers.

It's the demand for instant gratification too.

I'm posting a "wip" right now. It's actually a fully completed story, and I stated that in the A/N when I started posting it a few weeks ago. I finished writing it early in December. It's not going to be abandoned and discontinued. Short of a tragic accident, it will 100% be posted in its entirety before the end of January.

It's also almost 60k words long. Each chapter is approximately 14k words. That's a lot to expect people to read quickly, so I made the decision to post weekly instead of dumping it all at once. I don't normally do that for wips. I normally post bimonthly to give myself time to write the next chapter. But in concession to the fact that this one is already finished, I decided to post once a week. Could I have posted it all at once or even once a day? Sure, but again, I have more than a few close friends who are slow readers, and I thought it was better to give people the time to read each chapter and let it digest before dumping another one on them instead of making them feel like they have to read it immediately so they don't miss the next update.

This, apparently, was a mistake.

I've been very open about working on this fic since I started it in September. People told me they were excited to get the chance to read it every time I posted an update about where I was in the writing process. When I announced that I was posting it, they told me that they couldn't wait to read it. It's not like I was expecting massive numbers of kudos and comments; this fandom has shrunk in size and engagement, I'm not the most popular writer in it, and I try not to feel entitled to engagement, but considering all the people telling me they were excited for it, I was expecting something.

Instead it was crickets. All those people who were so excited and told me they couldn't wait to get home to read it? That was the last I heard from them, unless it was to express outright incredulity that I expected them to read a work in progress. "It's not a work in progress!" I protested. "I'm just taking a little longer to post it!" Yeah, but it's not posted all in one go, so why should we bother to read it? We'll just wait until the end of January once it's finished. "Will I hear from you then? Will I get any indication at all that you liked it?" Eh, maybe. If we feel like it. But it'll only be one comment at the very end. If that.

This keeps happening. If it's not an already completed chaptered fic that I'm posting over time instead of immediately, then it's an idea that I had first talked about a while ago but took a couple months to write only to be met with silence once I start posting because everyone moved on and forgot about it. If it's not ready to go right now in all its fully finished glory and all 60k words posted immediately after I first spoke about it, then why am I talking about it at all? Why should I expect people to be waiting in anticipatory eagerness?

I remember when I posted my first Christmas event fic in 2020. It was already finished too when I started posting it. I'd been talking about it all year. People had seemed really excited for it when I first mentioned it, but then interest seemed to die out somewhere around August. By the time I started posting it in late November, I was fully convinced that no one was going to read it. I actually posted the first chapter and then immediately turned my computer off and didn't let myself turn it back on until the next day.

I was shocked by the number of readers I had. The number of comments. The sheer amount of people telling me they'd been waiting on tenterhooks for me to post that first chapter. And it kept coming. People were talking and theorizing and marking their conversations with spoiler bars for anyone who hadn't read the latest chapter. People timed when I posted the first few chapters so they could be waiting by their computer for when I dropped the next one. I was randomly gifted art. It was really an event, and I'll always be grateful for the support and community I was given for that month.

I never believed I'd ever be able to capture that kind of readership again, and I was right, and that's okay. But when I posted last year's Christmas event fic, for the first time since I started doing this in 2020, someone asked me why I bothered to space it out over a month instead of just posting the entire thing in one go on Christmas Day and how could I possibly expect them to be that invested for an entire month instead of just waiting until it was finished. I didn't know how to tell them that only three years prior, that's not only exactly what people did but they were excited for it to be like that.

If I'm not going to post my already completed fic in one lump sum right now, then the audience for it is nonexistent. And the audience won't grow once it's finished. It's like I have one opportunity to capture the readers and if they weren't willing to take the chance on the first chapter, then they'll never come back. It's disheartening, to say the least. Only six months ago, I was telling a friend that I thought this was my forever pairing, that I'd still be writing for this ship when I was old and grey. And now I'm going through my ideas folder, wondering what can be repurposed for other ships, because I increasingly feel not just that I'm shouting into a void but that the void is actively ignoring me.

I can't post wips because what if I abandon them or take too long to update? I can't post a chaptered fic in one go because that's too many words to expect people to read. But I can't space out posting completed chaptered fics either because everyone wants the instant gratification of the full fic right now. So what am I supposed to do?

I miss December 2020, but it's not the random art that I miss or the kudos or the number of comments. It was the community that built up around this fic. It was knowing that it was okay to space out the chapters because everyone was still right there with me, talking and theorizing and using their spoiler bars. It was my audience trusting me enough to come along with me for the ride instead of waiting for me to be done. I was so scared back then that the full year between me first talking about the idea and posting the first chapter had lost me my audience, scared that they'd all forgotten about me and moved on to other authors who were quicker to post, but I wish I'd known that three years later, it would only take four months for people to lose interest in an idea.

I'd have treated December 2020 like it was way more special than I did.

#alle talks #bad comments #fandom #writing

[angryschnauzer]

By The Waning Crescent Moon

Summary: As an Omega you know you need to get home before your Heat starts, but when your car breaks down in the woods you need to seek refuge somewhere safe... surely a Convent will be the best place? Little do you know the nuns have long since left, only to be replaced by the worst possible thing; a pack of Werewolves. Even worse, its a full moon. Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie.

Wordcount: 4949

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Syverson x Omega Female reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Desecration of Religious artefacts, Knotting, Werewolf Sex, Monsterfucking, Unplanned Pregnancy, ABO Dynamics

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Henry Cavill Masterlist

A/N: This story has been stuck in WIP hell for a couple of months, i originally got psyched to write an entire werewolf gangbang, but then all the bullshit in the USA happened and yeah, forced pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s to do list, even in fanfic. Furthermore the wolf gang was originally going to be a biker gang, but another amazing writer @sillyrabbit81​ has since launched a truly amazing biker gang reverse harem fic, i decided to shelve that idea and instead sit on the original thought of werewolves for a while. I then had inspiration to make this a Syverson story, so here we go. The Were sex scene is heavily inspired by the graveyard scene between Lucy and Dracula in Bram Stokers Dracula movie, which in my opinion is one of the greatest creature feature/monsterfucking movies in the history of cinema.

By the Waning Crescent Moon

You waited at the stop light, the remote intersection of two highways high up in the hills of logging country. It was dusk, yet the sky was hidden behind obsidian clouds, heavy rain systems waiting to release their downpours in sporadic outbursts. Despite the cold rain dulling the summer evening, you were burning up. You’d stopped at the last gas station and had stocked up on a huge slush drink and a popsicle, but neither had done anything to quell the growing warmth within your body. Sat in your flimsy sundress you were at least grateful that in a moment of optimism that morning you’d dressed for good weather, even if you’d spent the day wrapped in the cardigan you’d found on the back seat. However now as you felt a droplet of sweat make its way down your neck and cleavage, you cursed and opened the window, grateful for the cool damp air against your skin.

The red light finally changed and you muttered under your breath to yourself as you pushed your old Nissan into gear;

“C’mon, lets get home” you said to no-one except yourself.

The highway grew narrow as it entered the woods, just a single lane in each direction, tall cedar trees closing in on both sides. The rain wasn’t as heavy beneath the thick canopy above you, instead there were wisps of mist clinging to the roadway’s edge. 

As you continued along you felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, a cramp that grew with intensity like an old lightbulb trying to illuminate but suddenly extinguishing.

“Oh fuck…” you cursed, resting your hand on your stomach as you rubbed to ease the ache. You drove on cautiously, ignoring the rattle that was emanating from the engine, your mind elsewhere. You had only finished your last period a little over a week ago so it wasn’t that. You could feel another cramp starting to build, your concentration far from the road. That was more than likely the reason you didn’t notice the pothole, the car shook and the suspension made a deafening thunk as you hit the flooded crater without pause. With a scream you pulled your full attention back to the road, ignoring the cramp pulling at your gut as you struggled to keep the car on the road, slowing gradually until you were able to pause. The sudden understanding hit your mind as the realisation of what was happening registered. You scrambled for your phone, opening the calendar and scrolling back to the cold winter months. 

A cold chill ran down your back like icy fingers against your spine. Six months. Almost to the day. Six months since your last heat.

“Shit fuck FUCK” you shouted at the rain splattered windows. How could you have missed it? As another cramp hit your stomach you curled over and rested your head against the steering wheel, at which moment your phone chimed. Peering out of one eye you looked at the screen and the reminder that had just popped up;

*Heat starting soon!!!*

“Yes, THANK YOU. 24 hours too late”

As an unmated Omega you set yourself reminders for when your heat was due, coming every six months you generally made arrangements to work from home, and ensure you loaded your purse with suppressants and painkillers so to deal with the build up. It would seem this time however you hadn’t set the reminder early enough, as you had neither medication with you, but would also explain the hot sweats and the reason you’d woken up that morning tangled in the sheets after dreaming of faceless intimacy. 

With a sigh you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, before peering out of the windshield at the dark and twisting road. Engaging first gear you set off but were immediately reminded that something terminal had happened when you’d hit the hole in the asphalt, your car now leaning on the kerbside. For a moment you considered calling for a tow truck, but then the rapidly failing rational side of your brain reminded you that the truck would likely be driven by a man, and the last thing you needed when you were about to come into heat was to risk being stuck with an Alpha you didn’t know. No, you needed to try and limp your car home, at least close enough to town that you could call your roommate to come help, she’d know exactly what to do.  You made it a good couple of miles at a slow pace, the road straight and gently downhill, until a hairpin bend meant you had to sharply turn the wheel. Something loudly went ‘twang’ like a spring being violently recoiled. It was quickly followed by the sound of hissing air, and the car dropped even further on the kerbside. The tell-tale thud-thud-thud of a flat tyre could be heard as you freewheeled to the side of the road, before coming to a stop on the gravel side of the highway.

You took a deep breath and let out a scream, yelling at the windshield, before your stomach cramps hit back again. They were getting closer together and you knew you needed help. Checking your phone hopefully you were still disappointed when you saw that there was still no service, more than likely due to a combination of location and the bad weather. With a sigh you stared out of the windshield and you noticed a sign on a wall;

“The Sisters of St Augustus’ Refuge” you paused, the synapses in your brain firing and finally connecting; “A CONVENT! That’s just women!”

Climbing out of your car you grabbed your purse and cardigan, holding the latter over your head in a vain attempt to keep the worst of the rain off as you started to trot up the long driveway towards the building that loomed on the horizon. You failed to notice the other sign that lay on the ground, one put up by the real estate company handling the sale of the building but has since fallen.

The driveway was considerably longer than you anticipated, and by the time you were halfway your pace had slowed, your cramps now even worse. The large wooden doors of the convent came into view as you staggered closer, the rain and sweat mixing and running into your eyes, blurring your vision. You stumbled, your no longer white Converses catching on a pebble, righting yourself before you fell flat on your face. Another two steps and another pebble, you were falling when suddenly a pair of arms caught you, the dark robes fluttering in the storm as you blacked out.

-

Sy sat back in his chair, his boots resting on the large table as he picked at his nails with one long claw, being able to control the change to his advantage. Walter was pacing the room, pausing to glare at the clock on the wall before returning to pacing. Sy let out a small sigh, the entire pack was antsy, anxious and ready for the turn of the full moon, however this summer storm obscuring its silver rays was turning the pack into an angry mess. August had wisely disappeared into the depths of the building and Sy was thankful for that, he and Walter would always argue over the smallest thing. Sy also glanced at the clock, his stomach growling;

“Where is Mikey with that takeout?” he muttered to himself.

A sudden increase in background noise caused both Sy and Walter to pause and look up, their nostrils flaring. August entered the room from the door that led to the private quarters, just as the large double doors to the chapel opened. The two youngest members of the pack came bustling in, Will holding the doors open as Mikey staggered along, his long black duster raincoat still dripping with rain, a now soaked bag of takeout hanging from one hand, but what caught everyone’s attention was what else he was carrying; a young woman.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Mikey stood still, waiting to gauge the reaction from the rest of the pack;

“I…I found… she passed out on the doorstep…”

There was a pause before everyone sprang into life, the men helping Mikey carry the unconscious woman in, Walter lifting her and setting her down onto the makeshift workbench they’d commandeered when they’d moved into the old building. 

Sy’s eyes widened before he cursed;

“Fuck…” he dragged his hand over his face before clearing his throat; “Aug, Walt, gotta talk. Will and Mike, make sure she’s ok”

August simply raised his left eyebrow before following, Walter trudging closely behind as Sy pushed the door partially closed behind them;

“Shit, this is the last thing we need, especially tonight…”

Walter nodded;

“I agree, whatever she’s doing here, we need to get her out of here before the storm passes”

August stood in the corner of the room, his silence eventually what drew the others attention;

“August, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet on this” Sy questioned

“Maybe she’s not an Omega?” he simply shrugged; “Could just be lost or her car broken down”

“Then why is she unconscious and reek of heat scent?…” he paused… “And why…”

Sy fell silent, all three elder members of the pack’s attention rising to the tall stained glass windows, the pale light from the full moon spilling into the dark room as the clouds started to part. A simultaneous chorus of ‘fuck’ sounded around the room, before they started to change, the moonlight triggering the lupine curse within them. 

They grew broader, their shoulders filling out their shirts. Jaws clenched as canine teeth elongated. The flick of fire in their eyes started to burn as the silvery rays of moonlight spread throughout the room. At first they didn’t notice the wisp of orangey vapour that curled through the small gap in the door, but as it moved around the room like a lost serpent August was the first to notice;

“What the hell is that?”

Sy and Walter followed his gaze before noticing more tendrils of the vapour, watching as it sparkled gold and copper in the moonlight. Sy gritted his teeth and pushed back the urge to fully transform, the skill he’d accomplished once he became the full Alpha leader of the pack;

“Stay here” he all but growled, stalking towards the mist and out into the hall, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.

The young woman was awake, but was clinging to Will as she nuzzled against his neck. One of her hands curled through Mikey’s hair, pulling him to the other side of her neck. Wisps of orange vapour curled around them, seemingly emanating from her.

“BOYS!” Sy barked, both younger men trying to turn to the pack elder, but looked punch drunk.

“Uncle Sy…” Mikey muttered; “She’s… there’s something…”

Sy crossed the room lightning fast, pulling both younger men from her grasp before pushing them into a ray of moonlight as it spilt in through a side window, knowing that although the moon would turn them, it would also clear whatever was happening due to the vapour from their minds. August and Walter helped the two boys up, both elders now having almost completed their transformations, the younger turning as they stood. Sy gritted his teeth again and pushed back the urge to transform, knowing four, five full Were’s would destroy this young woman, and that someone needed to find out what the hell was happening;

“August, Walter, take Will and Mikey, go run, go hunt, anything, get all of you out of here”

The other’s paused, seemingly torn between the draw of the full moon and the pull of the young woman, but as Sy turned and growled, his eyes flashing golden they finally retreated. 

Sy listened, his acute hearing picking up four sets of padded feet running across the gravel driveway and into the woods, before he turned to her;

“What the hell am i going to do with you?”

-

You sat on the hard surface, the blanket beneath you doing little to pad out the cold stone underneath as you watched the hulk of a man approach. You could immediately tell he was an Alpha, strong and virile, he was extremely broad with thick arms and thighs, he seemed to be 250lbs of solid muscle. Beneath the scowl on his face you could see stormy blue eyes that sometimes had a flash of gold in them, and hints of red in his thick beard. Your entire body was sweating, desperate for the touch of an Alpha. The two young Alpha’s you hadn’t been able to control yourself from scenting with had done a little to sate the heat hunger burning within you, but as this beast approached you your body burned for him.

Reaching for him your body immediately calmed the moment your hands grasped at his muscled forearms, breathing in his scent as he looked you over. When he spoke his voice was deep but soft;

“Miss, i gotta ask, but what are you?”

“Just an Omega… and i fucked up, my heat started…”

“Then why’d you come in here?”

“It said it was a convent… Nuns are women… i woulda been safe here…”

The man let out a long sigh;

“Oh honey… this wasn’t a convent of Nuns… it was a refuge for Moon Makers” he looked you up and down; “They shouldn’t have put ya on the altar…”

You were confused, you had heard the term Moon Maker before but it was so long ago you couldn’t recall exactly where. It was as if it had been a whisper you’d eavesdropped as a child, of something mothers and aunts had gossiped about with a sense of sordid envy. 

Before you could dwell on that thought the storm outside blew wild, the crack of a tree could be heard and as it fell to the ground it let in a stream of moonlight right to where you lay. Bathed in the silver light the tendrils of orange mist started to swirl with vigour, and the Alpha before you let out a groan;

“Sugar, i gotta see the mark…”

He pushed you back as he stood between your legs, his large hands on your thighs as they crept beneath your short summer dress, pushing it up until your panties were visible and the fabric of your dress was bunched around your waist. His nostrils flared as he picked up your scent, the dark patch of wetness between your legs drawing him like a moth to the flame, but instead he hooked his thumb over the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down just a little until he saw your birthmark on your hip.

“The waning crescent…” he muttered

“What’s… huh? Moon Makers… Waning Crescent… I don’t understand” you were struggling to concentrate through the heat cramps, pulling the Alpha closer to you as you’d wrapped your legs around his thighs.

“Moon Makers are a special kind of Omega… the only one’s strong enough to bear the pups of a Were… the waning crescent is the shape of the birthmark they carry… shaped that way as if you breed on a full moon you’ll know if you’re carrying the pups by the time of the next waning crescent… It’s old lore, there hasn’t been a sighting of a Moon Maker for, well, almost twenty five years…”

You pulled him close, not even knowing this beast’s name, but were drawn to him. You hooked your nose beneath his chin, his soft beard rubbing against your face and you could feel him shake with restraint;

“You’re testing big Sy to the limits Sugar…”

“Sy…” you muttered, his name like a syrup on your tongue; “Sy… i’m still an Omega, and i need your help. This heat isn’t going away… i need you, as an Alpha”

Nodding, Sy cradled the back of your head. He knew what he needed to do. He just needed to get you through your heat, long enough to get you back to your home. He also had a secret, one that he’d brushed over many times when his brothers had joked about it, but an injury when he’d been in the army had meant he could no longer sire any pups with an Omega. It was something he and only he knew about, not even confessing this to Walter or August, and it had been safe in that knowledge that he’d been able to concentrate on leading the pack, without the distraction of offspring. Countless Omega’s had warmed his bed, but he’d insisted it was never the right time, not on a full moon, not the right point in their heat. Right now though, he needed to fight off his hind-brain, the part of him that wanted the Were to take over. He didn’t even consider things would be different with a Moon Maker.

He pressed his face to your neck, inhaling deeply against your scent gland, the soft dip in your clavicle, and let your scent wash over him. You were grinding against him, the slick in your panties dousing the front of his old combat pants, the thick cotton straining against his growing erection. His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke;

“Will you let me taste you? Get you ready with my tongue? Sugar… Omega, you want me to eat that pussy?”

“Sy… Alpha, please… I need it. I need you”

You were desperate; desperate for relief, desperate for pleasure. You watched as his massive hands curled around your panties as he gripped the thin cotton before with a low growl he tore the thin fabric to shreds. Licking his lips he fell to his knees between your legs, his face between your thighs as his tongue found heaven. That long thick tongue dove through your folds, lapping at your slick as he eagerly tasted your essence. Your hands fell to his head, the short buzz cut soft beneath your fingertips, but without anything to grip onto you felt lost, unable to anchor yourself. As if sensing your need Sy lifted one hand to yours, curling his fingers between your own as his piercing blue eyes never left yours, all whilst his tongue delved deep into your velvet channel. The more you cried out and wriggled the quicker he fucked you with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to pleasure before with a final wide swipe of his tongue you came with a scream, calling out to the stars above as white hot pleasure coursed through your body and lifted your soul. Sy eagerly drank down your slick as it gushed from your channel, growling at the taste on his tongue before you finally fell back limp on the altar. 

He pressed a kiss to each of your inner thighs before he moved to stand, and you watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before unbuckling his pants and let them drop to the floor. Toeing off his boots he was standing naked before you, his cock hard and rigid, thick and uncut, the knot at the base already starting to swell. You had been with an Alpha before but never one as big as Sy was, he was almost grotesquely huge, his girth as eye watering as the length. It was an angry red, his skin flushed and he was already dripping with need;

“Omega, I need you as much as you need me, you gonna let me fill that pussy?”

You nodded, and as Sy stepped forwards you saw there was hesitation in his step;

“Sy… what is it?”

“You ever been with a Were Alpha before?”

“A Were?” you shook your head; “But i want to. I need you Sy…”

“Not sure how much longer i can hold back the change, gonna have to be quick”

“I don’t want it to be quick, i want you… all of you”

What you were agreeing to was unheard of usually, very few had ever been with a full Were, let alone a Were Alpha, you knew the pheromones could drive an Omega crazy; “Do what you need to do Alpha”

With a growl Sy pushed you back, his body covering your own as his hands grasped your wrists;

“Hold still Sugar… need to tie you down so you don’t go flying off the altar”

“Altar?! Tie me down?!”

Sy paused, his face inches from your own;

“Say so now and i’ll stop, otherwise you’ll get as you asked and i will ‘do as i need’”

Swallowing nervously you nodded, wide eyed as you watched him pull ceremonial silk ropes from two corners of the altar beneath the blanket, tying your wrists in place. You could see his fight against the change was already starting to wane, his eyes burning like fire as his elongated fingers ran down your torso before grasping at your hips. He knelt between your parted thighs, pulling you up his thighs until his tip was poised at your entrance, dousing the bulbous head with your copious slick. With a growl he pushed forwards, stretching your tight walls as he slowly filled you. The pressure in your belly was intense, a white hot heat surging through your body as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. With your back arched you struggled to let your body adjust to his size, but then you felt the rough brush of the blunt tip of a claw circle your clit, carefully teasing the sensitive pearl from beneath its hood. As the moonlight poured down over your joined bodies you felt Sy start to change, of the Were taking over.

You moved your hips, realising you were now completely stuffed with his thick cock and eager for more, opening your eyes you let out a gasp, he had changed fully. Covered in a thick layer of auburn brown fur, his body was that of a Greek mythical beast. Though his features had changed, you could still see the same eyes that had burned for you just moments before. Shoulders as wide as the altar you were being defiled upon, which continued into enormous arms, thick with muscle as massive hands gripped at your hips as he started to thrust into you. You could both watch as he filled you before pulling out and repeating, his angry red shaft glistening in the moonlight with your slick before he’d plunge deep into you again and again. Each thrust stretched you so well you knew you’d be ruined for any other man, Alpha or not. 

The pleasure coursed through your body, coming with a sudden force but the Were between your thighs just fucked you straight through it, now Moon drunk and high on the literal cloud of your scent surrounding the pair of you as you were carnally joined. With his biceps and forearms bulging the beast pulled you onto his thickening shaft repeatedly, his body arched as you were stretched on your tethers, legs bent at his thighs as you felt another orgasm chasing after the last. As your body squeezed him tight he let out a mighty roar, howling at the moon as you all but pushed yourself further onto him, your fragile body a plaything for his pleasure. Through the haze of lust and sin you felt the pad of his thumb move from your hip to brush over your birthmark, your gaze immediately drawn to his fiery eyes and you realised what would happen;

“Alpha, give me your knot, i’m ready”

With a growl the Were fucked into your plyable body harder and harder, pulling you to one final orgasm, and as that crested you felt the push and plug as he filled you, his seed pumping into you as his knot plugged you tight. Your scream echoed around the ancient chapel, and the world turned black.

-

A loud knocking at the door pulled Tina from her bed, glaring at the apartment as she strode through it, ready to give whoever dared disturb her at this ungodly hour of the morning a piece of her mind, but as she violently opened the door she was stopped in her tracks. In the morning light a hulk of a man stood on the doormat with you - her roommate - sleeping peacefully in his arms;

“Hey… I got her address from her driving licence”

Tina immediately scooped you into her arms, carrying you to the couch;

“Where has she been? Who are you?”

“Syverson… Her car broke down outside our place in the hills. She stayed out the storm with us but was up all night, she’s completely exhausted now”

Tina checked over your pulse and it was calm and steady, pulling at your eyelids which caused you to grumble and bat away her hands before you went back to snoring on the soft couch. Turning back to the giant Alpha currently standing in your doorway she held out her hand, to which Sy gently took it, surprised at how firm her handshake was;

“One of my brothers will bring her car back in the next couple of days if that’s alright? Got a lot on for the next two days”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but if i can take your number so i can check in, i know she drives a heap of crap but it’s still hers”

“Absolutely”

Tina watched as the enormous mountain of man carefully bent down and in neat cursive writing wrote his name and number onto the small notepad on the hallway console table, before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I’ll… i’ll be going now”

Tina narrowed her gaze;

“You… you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Sy turned and met Tina’s glare;

“She spent the night” he turned and paused; “You might want to check her calendar, mentioned her heat is due soon” he let out a sigh before turning back to the doorstep; “Anyway, gotta go, the moon waits for no man…”

Tina watched him go, toying with the piece of paper as his truck pulled away, before she stashed it in her wallet.

-

A couple of weeks later you were irritable and snapping at anyone that crossed your path. The only thing that had gone right was your car had been returned to your apartment three days after your night in the hills, the suspension fixed, the engine running beautifully. It was like it’d had a complete overhaul by an entire team of mechanics. You weren’t going to question it as it was the one stable thing now in your life. The young guy that had dropped it off had practically thrown your keys into your hands, before sprinting off and climbing into a truck driven by someone that looked so similar he could have been a brother. You vaguely recognised them, but your only clear lingering memory of your time in the hills was Sy. You weren’t even sure how to even find him again, having taken drives through the forest a number of times but never able to find that same route again. 

That night you were hungry, pulling a pint of your favourite ice cream from the deep freeze. You stepped outside into the warm summer night to eat it on the pallet wood seating Tina had built on the porch outside your apartment, watching the fireflies float into the air. After a while she joined you, a beer in her hand as she sat down silently. She was your best friend and had helped you through so much, but she’d been very quiet for the past couple of weeks, almost avoiding you.

“Hey Tiny” you used her nickname, one she’d very much grown out of after 5th grade when she’d grown a foot taller than you in the space of the summer break; “Everything ok?”

“Yeah yeah, i’m good… how are you doing? You’ve been… different recently”

You stabbed at the ice cream before setting it aside;

“Haven’t felt that great to be honest. Not sure what’s up, thought my heat was coming a few weeks ago but it seemed to end abruptly after i got back from…”

“Gotcha”

Tina looked up at the sky and you followed her gaze, seeing the thin crescent of the moon;

“Looks kinda like your birthmark, the waning moon…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as you’d suddenly bolted to the bathroom, your retching clearly audible. With a sigh she rested her elbows on her knees… fuck, what the hell had you gotten yourself into? She’d been able to tell that Syverson was a Were the second she’d opened the door, counting the days back on her fingers she finally realised that you’d been with him the first night of the full moon, when its at its most powerful, and how your heat hadn’t appeared, yet she’d been able to pick up your bonding scent as you’d slept on the couch. 

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered to herself, the piece of paper in her wallet almost burning a hole in her pocket. She had sworn to your mother that she’d protect you, that she wouldn’t let you continue the Were bloodlines… but she’d failed. Now she had a decision to make… but first she’d go help you throw up, no doubt there would be another eight months of it to follow, the child within you already growing. 

Pulling the paper out she held it between her fingertips as she stood, heading towards the bathroom where you were, you had a phone call make.

#syverson x you #captain sy x reader #werewolf sy #alpha sy #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #captain syverson smut #Alpha sy x omega reader

[heavenlyvision]

𝜗𝜚 WIPS/WORKS THAT WILL BE GETTING ANOTHER PART

'WHFO' will be getting another part soonish, I have an exam next week and haven't finished Vamp!Tomas fic yet but when I do, 'WHFO' will be the next thing I start working on 𝜗𝜚 Liu Kang's 'Bare' will be getting a third part, this fic series I was not intending to be overly long, maybe five parts 𝜗𝜚 'Truth or dare/Why are you sorry' with Kung Lao and Raiden will be getting a third and final part at some point 𝜗𝜚 'Just friends/More than friends' with Johnny Cage will also be getting a third and probably final part at some point, this depends on how it goes and how complete it feels to me but most likely it will only be three parts, four at most 𝜗𝜚 'Begrudingly betrothed' with Kuai Liang is intended to be a series closer to 'WHFO', I have a story I want to tell with that one and at this point I am unsure of how many parts it will end up being but I can comfortably say it will be more than three parts

𝜗𝜚 These are my current plans for the works that are incomplete, from now on I won't be answering asks about more parts on fics that are unfinished, instead you will get redirected here! Just a quick note, this is not a guideline of when what parts will be written/updated, this is put down in a nondescript order and the series will be updated when I am ready to write for them! <3

𝜗𝜚 If you would like a 'guideline' I made ˗ˏˋthis postˎˊ˗ a couple months ago and have been trying to stick to it

𝜗𝜚 Thank you to everyone for hanging around and enjoying my work <33 I hope you're all staying well and have a good day/night!

#vision speaks

[flymetosnarryland]

I am miserable, lol 😵

Some time ago I started writing story for a comic. I drew couple pages, couple are wips and waiting for being finished. However, in the process of planning next events I found out that I want to do something more with it. The story slightly changed. A week ago I woke up with new idea for the part that was missing and the story turned a bit darker. I liked it.

Yesterday, after sleeping (for the first time for a long time, gosh) twelve hours, my brain decided to bless me and gave me that insane kick to write almost whole outline. I continued today but, imagine this, I am suffering after looking at the end result, lol. It's... what. the. fuck. I wanted this story to be angsty and bloody. Paritally I think I managed to do it, although there are parts that... I just can't cope with my brain, shite. There are moments which gives you the feeling of a comedy. Like... I mean... I just… I CAN'T THROW THEM AWAY. Just can't. It's so stupid. It's such a potato story. It supposed to be good written scenario and, you know, serious and all, but it's damn stupid. I like it and I don't like it. I feel like I should delete it and forget. This mix of trauma and bad shite sprinkled with fluff and episodes that makes me laugh is something that shouldn’t work together. But on the other hand... I never thought I will write something with "powerful" Harry. I like him being normal, you know, “just Harry” not the bloody (and I mean the real blood) Master of Death, whose life changed from one day to another and he is helpless and… sweet but tormented in a way? This is fucking ridiculous. I can’t. This story is a Frankenstein. Post-war, VampireAU by the way (because I always wanted – very discreetly – write something about freaking vampires, fuck). Last assignment evolved into weird shite.

I really feel like this pic right now:

Thank you, brain, very much.

#personal #writer struggles #3B #snarry #VampireAU thoughts #Harry Potter

[nc-vb]

𝐎' 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞

So... this is a culmination of that monster dream I had a few weeks back, and the weed-induced dream I had of Ayato a couple of nights ago, that no one asked for, nor was it even in my wips until two days ago... yeah. Uh, it didn't exactly go in the direction I was meaning to send it, but I think it's still good enough to post. Haha.

pairing -> body-snatched!kamisato ayato x afab!reader

warnings -> 18+ (minors & blank blogs dni), afab/fem-bodied reader + no pronouns used (unless i missed any, pls lmk); modern Genshin AU, major character "death" + mild description of a dead body; mild-yandereism + identity theft (is not a joke); noncon -> dubcon segue (agreement/contract involvement); mild smut (honestly like barely, ok), tentacles... not beta'ed.

notes -> "Ayato" is a body-snatching shapeshifter w/tentacles bc my dream told me so. -> it & he pronouns are used interchangeably-- "it" for the body-snatcher & "he" for "Ayato". -> italics are used for when it is specifically the "creature" speaking; normal text is for when the "creature" is using Ayato's voice.

word count -> 6.2k

No matter how stubborn you could be, the creature knew you would never be able to hold out against him indefinitely. Lately, you seemed intent on treating him no differently than a housefly, like some pest that needed to be swatted away— ignoring him when he hovers almost too closely behind you to watch you complete a task, ignoring him when he watches you bathe, when he watches you change clothes, just watching, it seems, all done to discomfort you, you’re sure, for to speak is to grant permission.

He knows you can see him, though. And the times he made it so you couldn’t see him were the times he enjoyed you most.

When you met his eye for the first time, it had been less than two weeks after the funeral service you’d attended. The sad, sorry part of your mind would tell you that you’d finally snapped; that the news and the loss and the forced acceptance of your fiancé’s death finally embraced the effects of the sheer insanity you’d been forced to engage in. An assassination? Despite the overwhelming proof, it’d been too much to try and accept so soon. By the time you bothered to, it arrived.

Maybe it was for the pure shock and awe of things, why it arrived carrying Ayato’s stiffened body in its numerous arms in the dead of night, like it only waited for you to turn the lights on in your formerly shared home so you could tie up the garbage bag and drag it to the curb— it waited for you, so you could see with your own two eyes as it absorbed the love of your life into the blackness of its own body. You’d only just begun to grieve. So why? Why… something so awful? So horrific? And why couldn’t it just finish the job?

Thinking back on the incident, you clearly lost your mind; not checking into a hospital’s psych ward for an obvious psychotic break was a mistake, wasn’t it? Maybe that had been the case before it proved itself to not be a hallucination from over-exhausting yourself. You’re stuck, now, latched onto by this being all because you acknowledged it once as your former lover— you’re stuck, and you know it. It knows this, too.

At half after five in the evening, you’d finally returned home from your place of work, the rush hour traffic at least a little forgiving on behalf of you and your sore feet. But rather than take an immediate break as you wish you could’ve, and as the creature expected and hoped that you would, you’d trudged into your room to change, only to stumble back to the kitchen to begin tackling last night’s dishes that needed soaking after you’d had the oven on too high, only reminded of them after catching a whiff of burnt food from your attempt at a veggie deep dish.

If it wasn’t such an awful smell, I’d have left it, you think, draining the overnight water into the “dirty” half of your dual sinks. But I can’t afford to be distracted.

You don’t even need to raise your head to know that the shadow looming over half of the kitchen belonged to the creature. You do your best not to react, not to look up at it and see just what kind of face it wears behind your back. Its own, or… Ayato’s.

“Perhaps I should have tossed the thing and done you a favour. Then you could put all of your focus into ignoring me the second you walked through that door rather than tending to such a tedious chore...”

Save for its eyes, the creature is mostly formless, able to twist and contort its obsidian-shaded body in all the ways the physics of reality should and do deem perverted. But those lilac eyes it wore, like a trophy of sorts, could not be touched, the “windows to the soul”. You’d wished this weren’t the case. You wish it would’ve “taken” his eyes, too. You wish that you wouldn’t have to see them again— not like this, anyway.

In forcing away a particularly stubborn piece of broccoli with your steel wool scrubby, your own eyes teary and burning, your elbow rams itself into the waist of the creature hard enough that you flinch; he, however, chuckles in faux discomfort.

“Ouch,” the creature says. “Though I can appreciate just how much energy you’re putting into cleaning this dish, you might end up injuring yourself, while you’re at it… Calm down, dear one.”

Don’t call me that, your thoughts hiss, and you only wish he’d been the type of creature who could read minds. Don’t call me that with his voice.

What on earth is with this strange concern of his— ah, its…? If anything, it’s only done you more harm than good— receiving such warm regards by something that shouldn’t exist by any means, using someone’s voice that should no longer have one, and yet it’s attached itself to your home like black mold— to you, like some true fungus. And somehow, it still allows you to leave it, believing in your return.

Is it because it absorbed Ayato? Whatever similarly human feelings it displayed for you must be because of this, must be because it has taken on his former memories and thoughts, his former feelings— at least, every science fiction movie you’d ever watched encourages this belief. So then, it must also mean that this is why you keep returning to your home, because despite such an impossible situation, this creature still has his body; it still defiled Ayato’s grave to retrieve it and claim it like a prize…

Really, what was stopping you from leaving and never coming back? No other person had been around that it could bother to threaten in order to keep you shackled to it— not that you received many guests ever, anyhow, but the mere mention of “plumbing issues” had been enough for your family and coworkers to steer clear of your home. It had never displayed any signs or actions of malice; it never made to harm you nor even the random strangers who would approach your home with their business agendas, and not even the sweet Shiba Inu pup you and Ayato purchased just months before his untimely passing.

What agenda did it have, itself, then?

“What a sour expression you’re making. Oh, if only I could read your mind, my love,” the creature laments. You rinse the scrubbed away food from within the dish before submerging it in the opposite, sud-filled sink— the current the movement creates beneath the foam has it slam into the sides.

You sure you’re not playing dumb? you think, embittered by the coincidence.

“Then I might know of the hate you covet behind those beautiful eyes of yours for me— the hate, and perhaps, the depravity.”

My ass. It takes every inch of willpower stored up within you during your time away not to slam the dish into the draining rack.

“Perhaps you think of me as often as I think of you while you’re away. I know I was never present when I was… well… you know.”

The creature shifts, carrying the wind with it when it leans further over the counter. You do your best not to move, other than in regards to your dishwashing, focusing whilst reciting an ad-libbed internal monologue on the history of glass-blowing— the molten glass, with a consistency of molasses, gathers at the end of a hollow pipe to be inflated to a bubble, where it is then formed by blowing, swinging, or rolling along a smooth marver — whatever you could remember from the old How it’s Made television show that would pop up on one of those free cable channels as a kid. It does little to distract you from the warmth now curled against your spine or the strangely comforting scent it suddenly begins exuding, such a familiarly sweet spiciness that has you breathing in just a little deeper—

You shake yourself out of your stupor, wincing. Thankfully, it isn’t full-bodied.

“Perhaps you think of me as deeply as I do of you… And isn’t it just so kind of me to allow you to leave this place and return, as if nothing? “Absence makes the heart grow fonder”— you humans and your silly little phrases. I quite like this one, though.”

There is another shift, one that moves into and past your peripheral vision in front of you— two black tendrils, dark as the charr you’d just discarded, dark as the rest of him, creep toward where your hands remained busied rubbing away bits of florets of broccoli from your colander beneath running cold water, and tear the dish away from you to rinse, himself.

“I do believe I’ve been quite patient for you,” he whispers from above you, voice still carrying into your ears from a distance. You watch the water from the tap roll over the tendrils as they twist beneath it, another desperate attempt to remain distracted. “I’ve kept my “hands to myself" and minded your privacy per our agreement…”

The tendril releases its grip on the colander, placing it loudly into the draining rack. You jump.

“But the longer you choose to ignore me, the more severe your circumstance at the end of our agreement will be.” You fear your lip will split with how hard you bite down on it is. “I now ask of you… to amend our agreement. To add another clause to it, even.”

It doesn’t continue speaking. It won’t be the first to do so now. Even the strange hum-like purr from deep within its chest cavity ceases. And you know why. This isn’t an offer. It’s an ultimatum. It’s the true meaning behind “fuck around and find out” to the nth degree. The longer you choose to ignore this creature, whatever secret plan it had in store for you would only be made worse by your stubbornness. You also know what it means for you if you do speak.

Your original agreement was simple: allow the creature to remain at your side, within the confines of your home; to share the same space you and Ayato once shared; converse and engage with it, and in return, it won’t harm you. But after spending the past few months forced into an exchange of dialogue that had you on the verge of tears whenever it spoke in Ayato’s voice, you could barely bring yourself to get a word out besides the odd, dry response to appease it, until radio silence.

The creature didn’t like this. Still, it never resorted to violent acts to frighten you. As if it drew inspiration from Ayato’s memories, it followed you through the halls and rooms of your home, keeping a conversation going one-sidedly, and studied your expressions and body language to its heart’s content. Whenever you expressed annoyance, anger, or petulance, this had been something Ayato did while alive, too, until you would cave in and discuss the problem.

It wants me to renege our contract? you bite back the scoff that tries bubbling out of your throat. What worse can it do than keeping me an emotional prisoner?

Because as much as you do wish you could flee, this creature still has Ayato’s body. Your Ayato. It has his voice, and his eyes. How can I possibly abandon him twice?! You find your brain is close to tearing from the weight of each choice hanging from either half— renege, or take whatever consequences might eventually come out of your refusal.

You grit your teeth and reach for the hand towel you’d tossed onto the clean part of your counter prior to starting, pat your sudsy hands dry, and turn on the spot. You don’t immediately look to the creature, your gaze focused on any other part of him— its narrow-but-still-large waist, its broad chest, the tendrils floating through the air from all part of its body, wiggling and writhing with such eagerness that makes you writhe uncomfortably in return.

Your esophagus burns, bile threatening to rise and spew out on an almost dramatic scale, when your eyes finally meet. They still belonged to the man you once loved, after all. To see them free-floating within the voidal mass has been… an incontrovertible pain to be felt.

Its eyes narrow down at you, too obviously pleased by your submission through its intense and perverse stare. You know it’s just thriving; simply by making itself tall enough to look down at you (by nearly four of your own heads) provided it with the control over you it so obviously desired. Despite the forms you’d seen it take, “human” was never one of them— until you submitted, you don’t think it would bother. Not until you submitted.

All of which, explains your confusion, as the creature before you starts to morph.

You’d never seen it happen first-hand; it had always been while you were away at work or to run errands (the only two tasks it permitted you to perform as it meant keeping you alive) or while you slept, both circumstances meant to provide shock and awe (questionable) to its target (read: victim). And yet, in all of its threatening forms, it never once harmed you. Too obviously so, it yearns for you, and it still does, hence its desire to have you change the agreement.

The first night it appeared, it made this known through its visceral ignorance of your personal space— standing before it now, closely enough that you could feel its warm breath bear down on your neck where it indulges in you — you, your own human warmth, your scent, the pulse hidden beneath your jawline — you’ve only allowed it to do so again.

“The amendment,” you say, your voice catching from its disuse. “What… what is it.”

The creature smiles at you, a barely noticeable split appearing where its mouth should be. Strangely, it’s one full of mirth, of relief that you’d consider its new proposition.

“First,” it says, that strange purring in its chest beginning once more. “Revoke our current agreement. One cannot be made as another exists.”

You refrain from sighing at it, and instead draw your arm up from where it’d been tucked between your bodies, recalling how the previous deal had gone down— an exchange of handshakes. “Fine. I… I revoke our current agreement.”

Your first mistake.

The creature chuckles almost excitedly, and it draws your gaze up from your own hand to look to him, eyes wide with expectant fright when its tendrils rise altogether. “Excellent.”

“W-Wh—”

There’s simply too many to count, too many to try and evade or fight off when they curl and unfurl toward your flailing limbs. You’d turned at the last possible second in an attempt to break past the barricade it’d managed to create with its body, even bothering to half-climb the counter for a height advantage against it. The tendrils free-floating near its head reach out for your waist, wrap around it and tug, dragging your one leg bent along the counter’s surface away and along with the rest of your air-suspended body.

“S-Stop!” you shriek, your panic clear and evident in your expression and tone, in the way your arms flail around to squeeze at the closest tendril, in the way your nails dig as deeply as your flesh would allow to no obvious effect. “Let go of me—”

“______, I thought you loved me,” the creature nearly trills; you’d caught the way Ayato’s voice warbled out of pitch with what you could recall the creature’s original voice to sound like. “We’re getting married next month, aren’t we?”

You tremble in its grasp, your eyes quickly filling with tears of frustration. Its hold on you is unrelenting, but not painful— it only restricts your movements and prevents any semblance of freedom as the rest of the tendrils join in, wrapping around your middle and pulling you into it— i-into, into h-him?

“______, dearest.” Ayato calls out to you, his kind lilac eyes shadowed by his pale blue bangs— not only would the creature intend on violating your — broken — agreement, but it would defile Ayato’s memory, your last memory of him. Hands still freed, you brace yourself against the creature’s body and meet his stare, and the tears accumulated on your waterline finally fall. “Why do you cry?”

You sniff loudly; Ayato reaches over your lap to grab the small package of tissues tucked into your nightstand’s drawer and hands you one. “Weren’t you watching the same movie as me?!” you weep, your hands rising to press into your eyes.

“Of course, I was, dearest,” he answers. “I chose it, after all.”

“You could have warned me it was going to be sad!”

“I-In hindsight, I suppose it would have been smart of me to warn you, but I just didn’t wish to spoil it for you…”

“I’m not mad or anything; gosh, I just—” your eyes drift down to the end of your bed where Taroumaru watches the two of you, only whimpering when you meet his eyes, and your eyes begin to water again. “I could’ve used a warning…”

Ayato pats his lap once, and ever faithful, Taroumaru rises to lay across yours— Ayato knows that when your cries grow a little louder, it’s out of relief for their tag-teamed comfort, and you squirrel a little deeper into his chest.

“Hm… Wasn’t that one line nice?” Ayato hums, only to rest his cheek atop your head. “You should never forget anyone you have loved”… If Hachi wasn’t the embodiment of loyalty, I couldn’t say what else is.”

“… h-he really was so loyal,” you say, voice muffled by his sweater.

“Then why do you cry, dearest?” Ayato thumbs away the freshly fallen tears. “What can I do?”

“... you can let go of me.”

You’d stilled, hands still resting upon its voidal form— once more, you avoid its eyes, Ayato’s eyes, because beyond it is the pale flesh of Ayato’s face; seeing it and knowing what truth exists for it is too much to bear.

They creep up carefully, these smaller tendrils that have deviated from the one curled around you, slithering across your cold, trembling skin with an unfortunate vigor until they reach your neck, your chin, your lips— you shudder, eyes squeezed shut when your head is tilted up and forward.

“Do you no longer value my loyalty?” it inquires in Ayato’s voice. You leap in its grasp when what feels like a thumb swipes across your lower lip before it rubs away a fallen tear. “It’s all I’ve wanted since my death… to return to you… to prove my loyalty… to show you I haven’t abandoned you.”

“You’re not him. You’re not Ayato. Y-You’re not… what I want, I-I don’t want your loyalty!”

“Isn’t this enough?” Two “hands” take hold of either side of your face and force you to face him. “Isn’t it enough to see his face and hear his voice?”

“They should still be buried six feet beneath the cold earth!” you shout at it. “What you’ve done to his body…! There’s nothing loyal about it! What the hell are you that you can’t comprehend this?!”

“I… I am… Kamisato Ayato.”

Is it… confusion? Is it instinct? It never explained why and how it chose your fiancé out of every other corpse that lies in that graveyard. Had it been because he was the newest to be lain there? More nefariously, did it see you and stake a claim on you?

“You… are not him,” you spit. “You stole him. Get…” You raise an arm, the only free one, to try and rake at the creature’s face. Instead, it grabs your wrist and forces your palm flat against its cheek. “… get… off… s-stop—”

“I have Kamisato Ayato’s mind,” the creature says. “I have his voice. I have his face— his whole body. Now, I have the human he loved. How… am I not Kamisato Ayato?”

A sob trapped in your throat escapes you, fuelled by the creature’s sudden decision to begin morphing again. It shrinks, though not by much, and the pale flesh of Ayato’s skin spreads lower, down its neck, into its broad chest, into its arms and torso, lower and lower and lower— your trailing eyes snap upward and away as it manifests all of Ayato’s former self. He is naked, unlike the way you saw him that night it appeared to you by the curb, cradling your dead lover in its arms.

“Do you not miss him?” the creature asks. “His voice? His face? Are you not… loyal?”

“S-Stop.”

“Do you not miss his touch?” Ayato’s hand squeezes yours. “You loved these hands… and he… thought about it so often…”

“S… stay out of his memories—”

“— thought about you so often—”

“— get out—”

“He loves you dearly. When I claimed his body… and assimilated with him… it was his last thought before his death.”

“— no… I—”

“He could not tell you then, and so I…” The creature’s hold on you slackens, allowing you to rest on your bare feet again, but despite your adrenaline, your knees buckle— instead, the creature raises two thicker tentacles to hold you up beneath your arms, Ayato’s hands still cupping your face.

Don’t say it, your thoughts plead.

“I love you.” Lilac eyes flicker between your teary ones and your trembling lips. “He… I… I love you…”

Ayato dips his head low to capture your lips, this time, and easily spreads yours apart to slot his own between them. You grab for him, fingers squeezing along the length of his forearms from his wrists, traveling quickly up the naked expanse of his chest and up to his face where your fingers curl beneath his jaw to hold him closer.

Oh, god… what am I doing?

“You—” your mumbling against its lips is nothing more than a nuisance to it; this, you know, by its insistent attempt to shove its long tongue into your mouth to silence you “— are not my Ayato…” Gently but firmly, you shove him away with a sharp exhale. Ayato licks his lips. “… but you have him, and that has to be enough for me… or I’ll lose my mind. You aren’t going to let me go, I… I know this! And so I… I have to accept this… but…!”

The creature draws back, its eyes so focused and trained on you that it becomes less unsettling, and more so embarrassing after you’d allowed it to kiss you.

“Don’t think of this like that,” it says, once more reverting to using Ayato’s voice rather than its own pattern of trilling and warbling. “This is a second chance with your beloved Ayato. Is this not what you’ve dreamt of?”

Another tentacle emerges, wriggling around from behind Ayato’s back to press against your abdomen. Through your teeth, you seethe.

“S-Seeing his face and body being used by some… tentacle m-monster—” you inhale sharply, the tendril’s reach extending into the pant leg of your shorts; it squirms itself past the hemline of your panties with clear intent, and curls in time to dip into you. “W-Why…!?”

Ayato hums disapprovingly as it twists in your entrance.

“You’re too dry down there, dear,” he notes, his own human-like hands falling to hold your hips, thumbs rubbing the line of your waist with anticipatory fervour.

“Why wouldn’t I be,” you demand through your teeth, and when the tendrils push just a little further, your eyes slam shut— you fear not even your glass-blowing knowledge will distract you. “Do you think any of this i-is… a turn on?”

“… I do suppose you have a point.” The tendril retracts completely from you, disappearing behind Ayato’s back; you’d winced. “If I want your understanding, your… affection… I don’t think we’ll be able to proceed with anything but him present. So, I will wait my turn.”

Somehow, the creature manages to shrink down to a more human form, this time, the same height of Ayato’s own body. Your fears shift priorities. The eyes that once contained so much adoration for you that now held inhuman perversion; the flesh that would warm your own so easily, now cooled and pale, not even bordering life and death when his body already met and crossed its threshold; the hands that once cradled you so delicately, so intently— you fear the truth in the creature’s words: With Ayato present, you know it will get what it wants.

“Why,” you start, hands shakily rising to try to push his thin wrists away when his hands slide down your thighs, dragging your shorts and undergarments down with you. While alive, Ayato had been averagely strong, yet you were still able to put up a fight in times where it mattered— too much teasing, too many tickles. This strange, gentle strength the creature displays while in his form doesn’t even allow you to budge a finger of his— “why me? W-Why Ayato? I-I don’t—” and as a result, your clothes are dropped to your ankles.

“Going after this man was not so specific, you must understand,” Ayato says, his fingers skirting across your abdomen, your body twitching at each touch. “My kind simply are attracted to the warmest body.”

“A-Ayato was dead,” you try to reason awhile pinning your shirt at your side— his eyes flit up to yours, lidded in a silent warning. Hands off. You lose your hold, lips spreading thin as they instead reach to hold the counter behind you almost bruisingly tight. “… he was dead… h-he was cold—”

“I did not mean him. Choosing which body to inhabit comes down to how soon after it dies— how much time has passed since they took their last breath. Crossing paths over his ceremonial burial had been a coincidence; it could have been any other body newly buried in that cemetery.”

Frustrated, flustered, and confused, the creature deigns to continue its explanation.

“You deceased humans are either burned or buried, and when you are buried, your organs are preserved during the embalming process. It is sometimes difficult to find humans so recently intact; many times, the organs are missing from their bodies for donation to other humans. When we inhabit their cold bodies, they never feel the same warmth they would while alive— their hearts do not beat, so their blood does not circulate, nor is there any blood to circulate. But they can sense another’s warmth. A lover’s warmth.

“At the time, I still hadn’t fully been able to understand humans and their need for a true connection. My kind doesn’t normally ask politely. But you were there that day— his lover. Your tears, your cries, your warmth, is the reason he was chosen. I desired your warmth. Your love. Your tears. I wanted to sense them for myself.”

“… and you thought using his body for your desire was the best way?” In steeling yourself, you cast a look at the creature, at Ayato, and this time, you don’t bother to attempt to keep the tears at bay.

You really messed up. You knew this earlier, but now... the realization of it just senses like having a sledgehammer connect with the back of your skull, like experiencing severe whiplash or like having been stuck upside down on the loop-de-loop of a rollercoaster— all uncomfortably painful things you pray you never have to experience firsthand. You’ve seen enough painful things play out in the movies and television shows you’ve watched, and so you’ve been fine with playing it safe in recent years— you’ve tempted your god with your arrival far too many times as a teenager and, for the most part, you’d have learned your lesson since.

Almost as if by means of a hallucination, you can just see Them standing in wait for you, at the end of your failed pursuit of euthymia. Breaking your agreement to “coexist” was a catastrophic mistake. Because now, coming to terms and accepting your fate is what your definition of euthymia has turned into. Coexisting is… likely no longer a viable option. It has become almost wholly one-sided, to be caught in a net made of tentacles. To embrace it all as you’d tried to moments before is to turn your back on whatever god you can bring yourself to believe in, to turn your back on your weak idea of overcoming your grief and moving on.

“It is like I already said,” the creature murmurs, much closer to your ear than you cared for, “my kind doesn’t normally ask politely.”

It just doesn’t seem possible anymore.

You feel them before you see them— the tentacles. They extend toward your limbs with a will, curling around each limbs tight enough to elicit a gasp past trembling lips— “Ayato” leans forward into you, forcing your lips apart with an abnormally wet tongue, an abnormally long tongue, that has you wondering if it’s the saliva or its length that chokes you as they both slide down your throat. You squirm in his multi-appended grip, body fruitlessly thrashing against his unmoving form; you can’t even draw your head back with the cool grip he has on either side of your head.

Your gag is loud, messy, and it makes the creature shudder, Ayato’s eyes rolling back slightly when its tongue travels just a little deeper down the back of your throat, swirling and curling along, tasting; testing. Your chest lurches forward, unable to ignore the awful gagging and tickling the creature had been intent to end your life with any longer, and with a sharp gasp, he’d finally retracted it. Your heart seems to race at the same speed your rapid breaths take, and you can’t seem to will it to grow calm again, not when it begins to matter most.

There’s no longer a barrier of clothing barring him from you, your blouse and brassiere lifted away during the brief respite the creature gave you to breathe, tongue extracted quickly and with an all-too unsettling, devil may care expression to match.

It’s unfair, you think, shutting your eyes once more so you don’t have to see it approach you with its tongue again. This is so unfair.

This time, he is gentle, not so intent on stealing your submission and instead curious on how best to earn it— it��s already learned the trick of getting you to respond, the trick being using your former lover’s image to stoke your flames, using his memories to recall what he’d last done for you while in the throes. Strangely, it feels shame for doing so— the last time you’d spent tangled together had been the morning of the incident. Human emotions are… complicated. But it is not without the understanding of loss.

His hand rises to rest along your sternum, a delicate gesture that sends a different kind of tingling down your spine. Your eyes snap open to find Ayato’s staring back at you, and your skin grows hot under his lilac gaze; surprisingly, when you pull away, he allows you to.

“W-Why are you looking at me… like that?” you demand, panting heavily. “S… stop looking at me like that…”

“He loved to look at you,” the creature answers. You swallow harshly. “Out of everything he had and everything he owned, you were his most prized possession. Ah, he also knows you don’t like that word.”

“That’s oddly hypocritical of you to bother saying.”

“… perhaps. But he thought you to be most beautiful. Hm, yes…” The creature’s eyes lower for a moment as if in thought. “Yes; most beautiful.”

Once more do you flush with heat. How cruel.

Still under its hold, the creature feels you go slack rather suddenly— Ayato raises a brow in confusion. Are you planning to give in again? This time, honourably? A part of it wishes you won’t. Not for the sake of winning the fight, but to have won you over. To have earned your loving gaze the way the real Ayato did; to have earned your warmth. It’s aware it may be deluding itself into ever receiving such a gift.

“… all of this has been for your own benefit… with zero consideration of me, the source of that warmth you so desire…” The palm resting at your collarbone travels past it, sliding up the curve of your neck until it reaches behind your head, his fingers running along your scalp as if to soothe. You bite back the whimper that tries to claw its way out of your throat, the anticipation of the creature’s next move almost too much to bear waiting for, and instead of drawing away, you force yourself to lean into his palm.

Ayato’s eyes widen— the creature is sure that if the man before you had any blood still pulsing through his body, he would be flushed pink.

You hate that the feeling of being held this way doesn’t make you angry— the acid in your stomach doesn’t bubble, doesn’t rise up into your throat and burn along the way. And you know why.

What desperation existed after you’d heard the news to find him the day of his attack, to be with him, to help and promise him that he’d be alright, to tell him that “it’s not as bad as it seems” and hold his cheeks with your hand— the guilt of being at his side would eat at you, even up until this moment.

By some sick twist of fate, Kamisato Ayato stood before you once more, offering the forgiveness you would beg any god to receive from him. This creature is not a manifestation of the heavens— this, you also know. Guilty of the crime of body snatching to its apogee but untouchable by humanity’s laws, you were stuck with him. You, the only person made privy to its secret. No longer would you be able to look his sole living kin in the eyes and share your feelings of grief without thinking of the monstrous betrayal of trust you’d just committed by not telling her of such a truth, but Ayaka would never be able to accept such horrendous news. You, alone, are the lucky one, now saddled with the grandest of burdens to bear.

Your mental state already carved as a rickety slope, what is one more notch to its road?

“Have it, then. My warmth.” The creature’s surprise by your words is made obvious by the flickering in his visage; for a moment, the skin of his face goes pitch black, a nod to its natural voidal form, only Ayato’s eyes remaining and seemingly hovering in the center of it. “Our new agreement… whether you’re willing to be capable of it or not… No harm is to come to me nor anyone around me. You can’t leave this apartment, not until I c-can… figure something out. You can’t be seen; Ayato was too well-known.”

“I understand,” the creature says, nodding, and its visage slowly gradients itself back into Ayato’s palette. Bound by the parameters surrounding the creation of your contract with one another, the creature’s tentacles are forced to retract— you ignore the subconscious curiosity that questioned his intent, his next moves, and instead force yourself into collection — while his arms remain on either side of you, pressed into the counter. “But… your exchange… you said I have zero consideration for you. I don’t wish for that to be truth. What… can I offer?”

“Time,” you immediately answer. “Your patience. My pain is overwhelming and you have done nothing but… sow its seeds and encourage the speed of its growth! And don’t manhandle me! That’s the whole reason that first agreement was made. D-Don’t… You can’t do scary things like that anymore, okay?”

“I—” the creature huffs in response, casting Ayato’s gaze down at the floor between you almost… petulantly? He was just chastised, and probably for the first time. “I will refrain.”

You exhale, yourself, adrenaline still coursing through your veins like fire in its attempt to keep you on high alert. It truly took making a deal with the devil to keep it at bay; at least now, you know your general safety is secured.

If I truly have no choice… if this creature were to simply follow me for the rest of my life… at the very least, I’ll live that life on my own terms.

“G-Good,” you nod, turning slowly on the spot to face the small pile of cookware remaining,. “Then… let me finish these dishes… They smell.”

You nearly shrivel up when in the corner of your eye, you see his elbows bending, and soon, you feel its cool breath on the back of your neck before its icy lips land at its curve.

“… that’s not quite the smell I was hoping we’d prioritize, dearest,” Ayato murmurs into it. Another smaller breath escapes you.

How cruel, indeed.

@c-a-v-a-l-r-y @leis-stuff @auraee @rvisn @plinkuro @vcvoxu @minty-vxnilla @ChaoticHearts-19 @stygianoir @imeanwatever @n-akaharachuuya @katelynwithpaint @sadflightlessbirds @sunnyf4lls @mydickisbigger @endlessmari @chocogi @hunterluv @kwelibeeery @okadahimeko @junephantom21 @kom4ya @barbatosfavouritenun @amilium @whorerificstuff @swivy123 @kwelibeeery @keelszet @aikxo @aliensatemymemories @jooniebearsworld @aydene

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

#i was down bad for ayato again for like a MINUTE OK #back to our regularly scheduled programming now (hopefully *nervous laughter*) #kamisato ayato #kamisato ayato x reader #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x yn #kamisato ayato x y/n #ayato x yn #ayato x y/n #kamisato ayato smut #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #✦ nc vb. #✦ o' lifeless man #cw monsterfucking #cw yandere #< just in case #cw tentacles

[simsinlowspace]

Shop Local Part I - 48 Business Signs

Hi everyone! I apologize that I've basically been AWOL this week, and also that this project has taken so long, but I finally have some business signs to share! Swatches, (lots of) info and download below!

@gold33 requested some business signs a couple of weeks ago, and it's something I've been wanting to do for awhile anyway, so I was happy to pick up the project. @basic-fictional-simmer made an additional request when I posted my WIP for these, so those are included as well! I also added in some designs I wanted for myself, which is partly why this took so long -- I kept getting new ideas while I was working.

Here's a breakdown of everything you get (business name | tagline/additional info):

Cafes

Tea House Moon | Serving Organic Herbal Teas

Deja Brew

The Daily Grind

Florists/Flower Shops

Botanica | Floral Arrangements & Houseplants

Vickie's Garden | The Magic of Flowers (because TS2 garden fairy @tvickiesims needs a flower shop in all my towns!)

Floral Escapes

Hint of Spring Florist

Royal Roses | Elegant Florals for Every Occasion

Laundromats

Clothesline Laundromat

Cotton & Lace | Laundromat & Cleaners

Suds For Your Duds | Wash and Wait Laundromat

Boutiques

Pearls & Feathers | Lingerie and Sleepwear

Alchemy Boutique | Transform Your Style

A Find Vintage | Designer Thrift Shop

Wildflower Boutique

The Perfume Garden (this one ended up at the bottom of the second swatch because I was half-asleep while saving textures last night and I messed up the file order. Derp)

Jewelry Stores

Barenziah's Jewelry Box | Unusual Gems and Other Vintage Treasures

Now & Forever | Since 1912

Stardust | Jewelry Repairs Cleaning

Corner Markets/Quick Shops

Magnolia Market | Everything Fresh Everything Fast

Sul Sul! Dag Dag! | A One Stop Quick Shop

Sunshine Bodega | Cigarettes Lotto Snacks ATM

Grocery Stores

NatureFresh | Organic Grocery

Early Bird Grocery | Early Bird Specials Low Prices All Day!

Avant Gourd | Fresh Produce at Fair Prices

Japanese Food

Bashō's Lunchbox | Sushi Sashimi Tempura Hibachi

Just Roll With It! Hand Rolled Fresh Ingredients 11 - 8 Daily

Nori & Nigiri

Caribbean Jerk

Inna di Morrows | Caribbean Jerk Eat In Takeout

Caribbean Tide | Authentic Caribbean Jerk

Korean Food

Simchi Korean Restaurant

Boseong Tea Garden

Thai Food

The Sky Lantern Thai Restaurant

Dancing Thaiger | Traditional Thai Food With a Modern Stripe

Chinese Food

Shang Simla House | Fresh & Fast Authentic Chinese Takeout

Bamboo Blossom Noodles

Red Dragon | Sichuan-Style Chinese Food

Indian Food

Three Spoons Curry & More

Tandoori Palace | Indian Cuisine All Halal

Bombay Mahal Thali | Dine-In Takeout Open 7 Days a Week

Mexican/Tex-Mex

Aztec Eatery | Traditional Mexican Cuisine

Mi Queso Es Su Queso | Tex-Mex Takeout & Dine-In

Holy Guacamole Mexican Grille

Seafood

Crab Royale Seafood Shack

Oh My Cod! | Fresh Seafood Caught Daily

Smoking

Oasis Hookah Lounge

The Higher Path | Medical Marijuana Dispensary

Hollyweed | You Know You 'Juana Organic THC & CBD

What I have not finished yet are the "service" signs -- police, hospitals, banks, etc -- because I have some different meshes in mind for those (I love this mesh but it's definitely got a strip mall/shopping plaza kind of feel, and that seems a little sketchy for a hospital lol). They will be coming in part two!

These are on MogHughson's Illuminated Shop Sign mesh, which is BG compatible and is not included. You will need to pick up the mesh from the above link (I'll also link it near the download below). It is six tiles wide, but in case you want something smaller, I'm also working on a hanging sign add-on. Here's a peek:

Probably should have zoomed in, but I wanted to show how it looks with the big sign, and then I got distracted by my little courtyard. XD

Icons are by Freepik, piksart, Luvdat, NT Sookruay, Vitaly Gorbachev, JunGSa, Smashicons, surang, justicon, ultimatearm, paulalee, iconriver, YI-PIN, smalllikeart, smashingstocks, Agung Rama, Futeur and monkik. Huge thanks for all their fabulous resources!

Numbered versions of the swatches are included so you can keep just what you like.

Whew! Okay! I'm going to work on the last set of hobby posters tonight, although I'm not sure if I'll have them done in time for tomorrow. D;

DOWNLOAD (SFS) | Recolors are ~1 MB! 🚨 Mesh is not included! Get it -> here. 🚨

Lots of love, Spacey

#s2cc #ts2cc #ts2 download #sims 2 download #ts2 custom content #sims 2 custom content #s2 cc #ts2 #ts2 business signs

[tedsies]

Medieval Windenburg - Farming district complete!

With a couple of weeks gone by since I shared my completed Old Town district of Medieval Windenburg, I've now managed to reach another milestone - a second finished neighbourhood! This time, it's the rural farming area.

This district is largely comprised of peasant dwellings, but also includes a tavern and a stately home belonging to an important local family. These builds are all quite similar in style, but that's just because I think it makes sense for this area to feel quite uniform and cohesive.

As before, all builds are my own, but a special shoutout has to again go to @thesensemedieval for their amazing mod which changes the environment of Windenburg to appear more medieval (i.e. the roads, streetlights etc).

Anyway, here are some short descriptions to go with each build (in the order they are pictured):

Herbalist/midwife's cottage (picture 1) - a small home tucked away amongst a forested area, this is where the herbalist and her young protege reside. The barn that you see alongside their home is where they perform their 'rituals' and treat those who come seeking their aid. Whilst magic is outlawed in these times, most are willing to turn a blind eye if it means an improved chance of surviving childbirth or making a miraculous recovery from a sudden fatal illness.

Peasant's lakeside home (picture 2) - a humble abode situated on a small plot of land, surrounded on three sides by a lake. It has everything a small family might need to sustain themselves in medieval times, and (spoiler!) it may be where my own Sims begin their journey once I finally start playing in the save.

Journeyman's Tavern (picture 3) - a small tavern that doubles up as a dance hall/event space for the local community. A popular watering spot for those travelling in and out of the nearby city (hence its name), it also hosts a number of market stalls on its doorstep. Shopping and drinking - sounds like a perfect medieval day out!

Horse lover's haven (picture 4) - another quaint peasant home (you may recognise this as the WIP I shared a few weeks ago), but this time with a sizeable stable to house one or two horses. It again has everything a family would need to live off the land. I personally love this one.

Noble's mansion (picture 5) - a grand stately home belonging to the Lord and Lady Webb who oversee these rural lands on behalf of their good friend, the Duke of Windenburg. Whilst this house is huuuge (and as such is the only one I couldn't be bothered to furnish), its the heavily landscaped gardens which the owners take particular pride in.

Neighbouring farmers (picture 6) - two final peasant homes, who in their close proximity to one another agree to share a plot of land on which they both grow their food. These homes are small but cosy, and most importantly within stumbling distance of the local tavern!

So, what's next? I've recently been improving the Landgraab Keep lot I built a while ago, and once finished I'm torn between completing the rest of the island neighbourhood, or taking a break to actually start playing in the save. Hmmm... decisions, decisions!

#ts4 medieval #ts4 #sims 4 #the sims 4 #sims 4 medieval #tedsiemedieval #tedsiemedievalbuild #ts4 build

[oneofthosebells]

heyyy, just wanted to say how i love your fic (incognito mode) and i also wanted to ask if you abandoned It?? ):

Hey anon. Thank you for your kind words about my fic! But kind of confused by the question tbh.

This isn't a dig at you, anon, as I'm sure it's sincerely meant, but this ask has come on top of a few comments on the same fic over the last week or two asking if I've abandoned it or asking me to update. But the last chapter was posted only 3 1/2 weeks ago - and it's not exactly been a normal 3 1/2 weeks, has it, we've had new canon in that time to watch and rewatch and obsess over.

And even if we hadn't had new canon in that time, 25 days between updates isn't unreasonable? It's certainly not a reason to think the fic has been abandoned!

Fic writers have lives. I have a job, I have responsibilities, I have family and friends - and on top of all that, I have a couple of severe chronic health conditions that can at their worst stop me from writing (or doing much of anything at all) for days or weeks at a time.

I haven't updated in a bit because of a combination of health issues and excitement over S3 being too distracting - but even if I didn't have any particular reason at all for not updating, that would still be okay. We do this in our own time for free and for fun. I never committed to making regular updates on this fic because I knew there's no way I'd be able to achieve that.

So to answer your question, no, I've not abandoned it. I've been working on it today actually and am hoping to get a chapter out in the next few days. But if something happens to prevent that, then I will do the best I can to update at some point even if it might take longer. It still won't mean I've abandoned it.

I've never abandoned a fic in my life, because I've never started posting a WIP without a very clear idea in my head of where I want it to go and how it's going to end. It might sometimes take a while if life gets in the way, but it will always get finished eventually!

#ask #anon ask #my fanfiction

[throughtrialbyfire]

WIP Wednesday <3

tagged by the amazing @saltymaplesyrup @skyrim-forever and @your-talos-is-problematic !!

tagging the incredible @thana-topsy @totally-not-deacon @viss-and-pinegar @dirty-bosmer @orfeoarte @changelingsandothernonsense @mareenavee @thequeenofthewinter @archangelsunited @gilgamish @wispstalk and anyone who wants to participate, consider yourself tagged!!

this week i bring a section of the rewritten chapter 9 of Cycle of the Serpent. i'm planning to do some final edits to chapter 8 and 9 both and update those in the fic, finish 10, and then do some tiny editing for consistency in the rest of the published chapters in the next couple of weeks. for now, have this! <3

Thick, impenetrable night slid through the cracks of the inns walls, cool air and occasional passes of torchlight from outside bringing slivers of light into the otherwise dim hall. In the rented upstairs room, the flickers from the hall found their way in, bathing it in a bronze hue. Sleep, the elusive beast, sometimes captured and sometimes wild and far away, had wrestled itself from Athenath's grasp minutes ago. So now, he lay there, eyes fixed on the ceiling, the heavy wooden beams, the aged surfaces revealing previously unseen shapes as his mind tried making sense of the dark. There were promises to keep, come tomorrow. Whispers from under the balcony flew up through the wooden floors, the conversations of some patrons up well into the night. The constant hiss of syllables against teeth, the sharp, whistle sounds of them, made the Altmer want to grab the pillow and shove it over their ears and clutch it until his hands forced themselves loose from aching. But he couldn't do that, and he definitely didn't want to wake his friends, so they lay there, chest tight at the agitation. The shuffle of blankets rose up to end the quiet. Just Emeros, turning over in his sleep. They glanced to him and then returned to staring at the ceiling, brow knit, the sound of whispers softly fading. Finally. A sigh of relief had nearly left their mouth, but they stifled it, his focus again on the two Mer beside them. He didn't want to wake them. They'd both earned the rest. Athenath could hear Wyndrelis breathing, but aside from the rise and fall of his side when he did, he resembled more a corpse, entirely still and curled into himself. Emeros, meanwhile, had his forearm tucked under the pillow, his other arm around himself, blankets tight to his form.

The bronze light dimmed. A torch blown out. The night must be deep into itself, somewhere in the latest hours before morning would come and wake everyone up with its crowing. Athenath had blamed his sleeplessness on the whispering below the bed, but now, it was as though that had just been the catalyst, and now he was truly awake and alone, and unable to creep out of the bed if he even wanted to. At this rate, they'd look like a draugr in the morning, shambling up to Dragonsreach and barely forming the words to tell the Jarl of what happened to Helgen, what happened to them.

He shut his eyes tight. Gods, they didn't want to think about that day. But it still found a way to invade their thoughts, even when they were making all the effort in the world to go back to sleep. Their mind ignored every attempt to shove the fires aside, Athenath's arms wrapping tight around their middle as he stubbornly tried to push his mind to something else. What about the nights in Anvil, walking the salt-scented paths through town? And the dares to go up and knock on the old haunted mansion? What about the laughter of their old friends, and the house they grew up in? What about the shopkeep with the strange necklace, and the strangers in town in their black coats, and… Athenath's eyes shot open. The dark was still the dark. The same thing he'd closed off. But now, it seemed to wrap around them, tighter than they could bear. They fixed their gaze on the ceiling and thought of poems he'd memorized on the road with troubadours from High Rock, or the songs that they'd thought about writing down and quickly forgot, or the bards who sent them on this damn journey in the first place, but none of it replaced the sinking feeling in his stomach, like he was desperately clinging to a broken raft far out to sea. "What are you doing up?" Emeros whispered. He didn't need to open his eyes. He knew from jokes shared at the campfire that Athenath never slept on their back, and here they were, and he could feel the way the blankets laid over them and how different it was from when they were truly well asleep. Athenath shot their gaze to him, brow knit.

"Just can't fall back asleep," they whispered back. Emeros cracked an eye open, face half-buried in his pillow, hair tousled along his neck. He pushed a hand through the front strands, a couple small noises leaving his throat as though he were returning to the waking world by force. "Tomorrow, I fear, is going to be dreadfully long. Don't keep yourself awake, or you'll regret it." "It's not-" Athenath inhaled, held it, and exhaled, "I'm not. I know." "Then what's the problem?" "I woke up, couldn't fall back asleep, and now I'm just… Up. When I wish I wasn't." A long pause. Emeros sucked his inner cheek between his teeth on one side, then repeated to the other. "Did you have a nightmare?" "No," Athenath blinked curiously at the Bosmer, "did you?"

The alchemist rolled slowly over onto his back, palm draping over his eyes, other hand still firmly beneath the pillow. He inhaled, moved his hand down his face, before his arm came to rest over his middle. "I suppose one could say that fire has never been my favorite thing." The bard didn't reply, laying there, watching him as well as they could. He sucked in his cheek, then exhaled, peering at Athenath out the corner of his eye and the smallest turn of his head. "It'll be morning before you know it. Try not to keep yourself awake." The smallest fringe of concern at the edge of his words caught the Altmer off-guard, who only continued to watch him quietly. Emeros' gaze shifted. "You too, Wyndrelis. I know you're listening in." Wyndrelis snorted. "How did you guess?" At this, Emeros merely grinned, rolled over, and said, "I saw you move."

#skyrim fic #tes fic #tes v #ficblr #tesblr #fanfic #fanfiction #wip wednesday #my writing #oc ; athenath #oc ; emeros #oc ; wyndrelis #cycle of the serpent #bishop.txt

[suspendingtime]

20 Questions for Fic Writers!

I've been tagged by @stars-of-kyber and @andthebubbles. 😁 So although I feel barely qualified, I guess I best do this...

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

7. 🤗

I started about 2 months ago, so... and yes, they're all Kanthony. Initially just started as a way of contributing to Anthony Week 2023, and I didn't even expect that I'd actually do all 7 days.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

13,370.

Currently ranging at 661 to 3,779 per fic. Rookie numbers!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

So far, just my beloved Bridgerton.

But there have been a couple other shows that have tempted me...

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Astride  - 166

Nursery  - 118

Hunt - 105

Yours - 94

Temptation - 88

Having published a handful with various ratings, it's quite interesting to see the kudos, bookmarks (private vs public), and subs ratios! Much to think about.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes.

Why... I sort of have a need? Idk, when I see a comment it's hard to just leave it hanging there and not to reply. Like irl if someone looked at something I made and verbally commented on it... and I just stared back blankly not saying anything. 😐 This is how it feels to me on the receiving end at least haha. And my replies saying various forms of 'Thank you!' is probably quite repetitive, but hey ho.

Plus comments give you that lil hit of dopamine; from both povs as a writer or reader. Being on the reader side for most of my Ao3 activities I tend to comment on most of fics I read, I can't help it - I must tell you what I loved about it and why, and there's a pleasure in reciprocating that back too. Look, now I've written half an essay on the subject, gaaah. (I've not been on Ao3 as much as I'd like to recently, and because I opened it to scoop out the stats for some of the questions above I can now see that I have some unreads... and the need is happening.)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm *thinking really hard*, I don't think any of them have an ending that is all that angsty. If I had to choose, maybe Temptation?

The pattern I've shown so far in my posted works is that it's gonna be 90% fluff. Though that is liable to change. 😆

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Probably Nursery?

I'm not sure, cause they've all ended on a pretty optimistic note so far. But that one has Kate and Anthony with a few of their kids, so it's the furthest on the Kanthony HEA timeline.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not yet...

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Ummm 👀 I may have dabbled in some smut.

What kind... hm, the kind where both people are panting for each other, and end up caving because they literally can't hold their horniness in anymore (this totally explains why I went feral for Bridgerton S2, ha). Another pattern I seem to have is making Anthony a submissive man puddle.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not yet, but I do have some crack ideas I may explore.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of, I very much doubt it.

How often does this happen to people?

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I'd certainly be all for it if anyone ever wanted to translate any works of mine. 😊

If I was proficient enough to write in other languages, then I would probably try publishing the different versions from the get go.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Kinda?

Nothing formal, but there was a lengthy comment thread on Reddit some months ago where myself and another user went back and forth re-writing the script for that stormy library scene 😅 (not so much re-writing what was already there, bar the last few lines, more of a continuation in a universe where Kate hadn't fled).

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Must I even answer this? Kanthony, c'mon now.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

There's only 1 work that I have, where I've actually started a chapter 2. And I have all the faith that I will finish it. ✍️🤓

Other potential WIPs, that are currently just posted as one shots, only exist in my head... who knows if they will see the light of day.

16. What are your writing strengths?

This question feels illegal to be asked.

I have no idea, I'm very new to this whole writing thing. At least in terms of fiction, so I'm not sure what I'd consider my strengths to be. I feel like I need some more practice before I can get a real sense of this?

I would say that dialogue usually comes very quickly to me, and it's having to fill in the bits around it that takes more brain muscles. So that might indicate something.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Everything apart from the answer to the question above.

But really I think it's remembering that there is a world outside of the main couple happening, and trying to describe the details there. Also other general 'setting the scene' stuff like clothing, weather etc etc. I usually just want to jump straight in with some random dialogue.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

On writing it... no thoughts; not done it yet!

If I needed to for some unknown fic reason in the future, I'm sure I'll be apologising profusely in the author notes for trusting Google translate and probably butchering whatever language it is.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Still just the one so far, Bridgerton. 😌

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Hunt 🥺🥹 I was a lot of feels, and just very indulgent tbh.

I also really enjoyed my shortest one, Obedient, which was in 2nd person (hadn't done that before). The writing of that one was just really fun and I idky but I've reread it quite a bit!

__________________________________________________

I'm woefully looking at my Ao3 bookmarks (which has grown exponentially since joining Tumblr), full of things that I've not got round to reading yet. So I'm tagging partly based on stuff hanging out on top of that pile: @islemeadow, @ladykettlechips, @hydriotaphia, @eleanor-bradstreet, and the smut aunties @colettebronte & @fayes-fics 😋 (if y'all wanna do it, ofc. I tried to find those who hadn't been tagged/done it yet, sorry if you've actually already done this and I've just not found it).

#20 questions for fic writers #tag game #fanfic writing #fan fiction

[magpiefngrl]

Fic author self-rec

Rules: Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💙

Thank you for the tag @tenthousandyearsx a few weeks ago! I wanted to wait and get a couple of my WIPs ready and posted before doing it, but I'm now back to full time work so it's unlikely I'll finish those WIPs any time soon. 😢 So, here's 5 old fics of mine that I'm fond of. It's hard to choose a favourite, so I chose rather randomly, whatever popped in my head first tbh.

They're all drarry.

The Unquiet Grave (E, 21,5k, gothic vibes)

Quote: ‘What will happen is this. You’ll drag me to a poncy restaurant one evening soon, and I’ll complain about the number of forks and the size of the portions. Then I’ll drag you to my local and you’ll complain about the wine list and the clientele. This will be a recurring theme. But every time, every single time, we’ll end up in my bed — or yours — and I’ll make you forget your own name.’

My thoughts: I reread this yesterday after years, and I ended up really enjoying it. I particularly liked the dialogue in this read. I'm pretty happy with how this fic turned out. It's got a gothic mood and fits an autumnal mood; I often rec it for Halloween.

Sometimes a man needs (E, 5.5k, Flower Shop)

Quote: Harry knew what a huge mistake the whole thing was, but he’d already fallen for Malfoy, so what harm would a few more nights do? What harm would it do to kiss Malfoy some more and inhale his intoxicating smell? What harm was it that Malfoy spent almost every evening with Harry and whispered things in the dark that he never alluded to in the day? Harry was in love and in pain, but he might as well get what he could while he could.

My thoughts: I love the magical flower shop I created here, the types of flowers I came up with, and, craft-wise, I love Harry's voice. I remember I'd struggled with this fic, starting and deleting, starting and deleting, until I got a handle on Harry's voice and then it flowed in a morning.

The Gift (E, 29,5k, Captive Prince references)

Quote:  Draco’s desires — at least where Potter is concerned — are a tangle, messed up like he is. A war of contradictions: Draco wants to please Potter, and he wants to hurt him. He wants to see Potter in ecstasy, but he can’t allow himself to be the one to do it. So, he’s chosen another way, a way that gives and takes at the same time. ‘You’ve been such a good boy so far,’ Draco tells Potter and watches with pleasure his instant reaction, the blood colouring his face. ‘I think you deserve a treat for being so good. So… obedient. Which is why Adam here will give you a… gift.’

My thoughts: Used to have complicated feelings about this one. I'd hidden it for years and only revealed it a couple of months ago. Draco is a writer here and channels many of my doubts and insecurities. It's not a fic that has a wide appeal, not cute or fluffy at all, but I love my prose here and I had fun with inserting CaPri nods and writing excerpts of a magical CaPri story.

The Boy Who Died (E, 26.8k, Voldemort Wins AU)

Quote: At times he thought he noticed his own lust mirrored in Malfoy’s gaze, like when he cooked and Harry sat on the kitchen table, mouth and fingers sticky with treacle syrup or brown sugar, or when Harry left the shower in his pyjama bottoms, his hair soft like a waterfall down his bare shoulders. Harry had taken to sleeping topless; he couldn’t get used to Malfoy’s fancy pyjamas, and although Malfoy had looked extremely put out the first time, he didn’t object.

My thoughts: I'm just so fond of this one! I thought of the reincarnation plot because of wangxian and I peppered some wangxian Easter eggs in this fic, but I didn't expect to fall in love with this dystopian, Voldemort Wins 'verse. It's a bleak world but somehow this fic has become one of my comfort reads and I've reread it often since posting it.

Through the Looking Glass and What Draco Found There (E, 17.4k, Mirror of Erised alternate dimension)

Quote: Getting to know Harry was to love him: hearing him laugh at Weasley’s jokes, watching him sleep, witnessing his passionate devotion to what was right and the ardor with which he supported his friends. He had butterflies in his stomach just at the sight of him; a sentiment he attempted to hide under a mask of cool detachment, because if anyone found out, Draco would be kicked out of Slytherin for incurable soppiness.

My thoughts: I love the Mirror universe I came up with, and am proud of the treatment of the Shrieking Shack in this fic, which I haven't seen elsewhere. It's one of my works I'm most proud of. I didn't expect it'd be emotional, but I've received a bunch of comments, some of them very recently, saying it made readers cry. oops?

I'm guessing many of you have done the latest round of this author game. So, tagging everyone who hasn't done it and wants to! Would love to see the fics you rec and why xx

#tagged #drarry #five fics

[galvanizedfriend]

I'm having a writer-feels-like-crap moment and just needed to put this out there somehow. It's personal and it doesn't make sense, it's just a head fart. If I had a comment for each message I receive about updates I might actually write more. 🥲

I have no problem being asked about updates. I know some folks don't like that type of ask, and I totally respect that, but it's never been the case with me, I appreciate the interest. Please don't think that this is a rant against people who ask for updates, because it's not. There's nothing wrong with that, at least not for me. However.

I get so many asks about updates. Some anonymous, some not. Some I reply to, some I don't. And that's all fine, it's (mostly) good-natured, there's no harm in it. But I have to wonder where do people go after I post the updates? How come I only get comments/messages about the next update, but never a comment about how they read and if they enjoyed the chapter? How is it that people think it's really helpful to only ever ask for updates but not to leave a tiny simple comment to let the person writing know they've read the actual update when it comes into being?

This is about exchange, right? If you want writers to feed you, then you should feed the writers back. If the writing sucks, if it's not worth anybody's time to read and comment, then that's fine, you don't have to comment on things you hate, in fact you SHOULDN'T. But if you do like it and you still won't comment, that's how it translates to me. I just think everyone hated it. Because I get so many asks about updates, and then when I do post updates, people either don't read, or read and then never say anything about it. To me, that says they hated it, and the sense of excitement I had upon posting dies almost instantly.

I've written three different things this month to see if any of them would stick and make me want to write some more, and even though I had some really nice, really sweet responses to some of those that I cherish so much and have gone back to read again, nothing worked. That's not to say that I won't write anymore, but it's been really hard to push through my writer's block. Every time I sit down to write, I gravitate towards the things that I'm writing for myself and that are probably never going to see the light of day, because those are the ones that I don't care about the feedback, it's just for me. But then I keep getting the asks about updates on my WIPs and I honestly don't even know if the people asking for updates have read the latest chapter. Did you enjoy it? Was it good? Is there anything you're looking forward to? I don't know.

I haven't replied to a couple yet because I don't know what to say anymore. Sorry, no updates, I feel like the worst piece of shit writer there's ever existed and don't really feel like inflicting that upon the world anymore? Cause that's really where I'm at.

I've seen countless posts going around about how commenting/rebloging has been slowly dying because the newer generations have a thing where they think it's weird to comment/reblog days/weeks after stuff has been posted. Some lingering effects of tiktok and instagram culture and people thinking that it's somehow stalkerish or something. I promise you, it is not. You can leave comments on stories posted 20 years ago on livejournal. You can reblog posts from 2014. There's nothing wrong with that. There is NOTHING better for a writer to have someone suddenly going through their entire catalogue of fics and commenting on all of them, or reading through a long story and leaving their impressions as they go, even if it's a single line of comment to say 'hey, just found this, it's great'.

I have in the past left comments on stories that had been on hiatus for YEARS, with no expectations whatsoever, and suddenly the stories came back to life because my comments somehow made a difference. I have never been happier, both because I got to see something I loved being finished and because I may have given someone the tiny little push they needed in order to get back on their writing horse. There are days when I wish for nothing more than that, but I'm an old fandom person whose old fandom friends have almost all left fandom and I'm just here typing to myself, talking to myself and getting very little feedback. (Positive feedback, mind you. The people who hate my things are not shy about letting me know their feelings.)

I don't even know anymore. I've just been feeling very discouraged overall and I honestly don't know what else to do. Maybe this is an end of the year type of blues or whatever, but it is what it is. Updates will come when they come, I guess.

But anyway, to readers out there, doesn't matter if you read my fics or not: if there's anything you enjoy out there, any fics you're following, any stories you'd like some writer to see through to the end, or any writer you wish would post more of their stuff, just remember that the only way they'll ever know there's people out there expecting to see more from them is if you tell them, and the best way to do that is to comment on their stories. It fills writers with anticipation and confidence. Trust me, it works like magic.

#yokan doesn't write #yokan should be retired by now tbh #yokan should also find something new to hyperfixate on tbh

[boyslit]

since my brain isn't letting me write new stuff, y'all wanna read the wip i had that sparked every path? it's kind of condensed brain-soup style but has key points and dialogue i wanted to include. :3 the doc name was just "ring"

---

(much, much later: a return to belobog for a week. Caelus catches up with old friends and old flames.)

koski came across a ring he's been holding onto for… no reason. reminded him of someone. more sentimental than valuable so he hasn't sold it. it's just cheap cubic zirconia, pretty as it is. he could probably have gotten someone to buy it at a high price thinking it's expensive orange topaz but… the thought of someone else having this sits wrong in his stomach. he's definitely not thinking about it lying in a box in his jacket pocket as he lies with Caelus after fucking. he holds his lover instead and pretends he's not leaving again in three days

catches a ride to the next stop with the express crew. swears he'll get off at the next stop, he's just wanting to make it off jarilo vi and into new markets. there's a whole wide world and new economies to learn to hustle after all. it doesn't hurt he can spend an extra day or two with Caelus.

when they disembark on a lively civship they still spend a couple days together before sampo realizes if he doesn't force himself to let go he's going to cling to Caelus forever

he secrets the ring into Caelus' pocket directly before they leave each other-it's a messy snoggy goodbye ofc. Sampo's off to find greener markets. Caelus is off finding side quests and people to help. eventually he digs in his pockets for money for lunch (some little hole in the wall Dan Heng knew about and only takes cash) and finds the ring. it's gunmetal finish with a brilliant yellow topaz. just like his eyes, even in a marquise cut like his diamond pupils. there's no way it was a coincidence. but why did sampo sneak it into his pocket?

it fits his ring finger perfectly. he feels warm and happy anyhow. it was nice to have something to remember him by since their work was taking them so far apart.

friends comment on ring later. c mentions he found it in his pocket earlier. m and dh exchange glances. "so he didn't propose with it, he just snuck it in your pocket? how cowardly."

"propose? propose what?"

"uh getting married? duh."

"well that doesn't sound like him anyway. is that what people do, ask someone to marry them with a ring?"

"yes????”

"March, he has even fewer memories than you."

"ooh, right. sorry"

cae studies the ring in his hand and thinks. "it's probably just a … a thing. something to remember him." later he snaps a picture of it on his hand and sends it.

c: [left me a surprise huh?]

[it's pretty. i like it]

[thanks <3]

he doesn't expect much in the way of a response but he did get a reply

s: [reminded me of you]

there's nothing else after that and Caelus feels a jolt of nervousness, wondering what's up. he tries to prod with humor

c: [careful, koski. you're getting dangerously close to sentimental~] a tilde to ensure the mood got through

it's a few minutes before he gets a reply. when calls reads it, he wonders if sampo has been writing and rewriting the text. it doesn't sound much like him

s: [i think i fell over that cliff a long time ago]

Caelus feels his breath catch in his throat- a heavy warm feeling collecting in his chest. they were never for talking about feelings. at least not honestly. sampo's dramatic declarations were mostly that- dramatics… but, maybe they hadn't been all bluster after all? Sampo's response hadn't been couched in poetic language. Even through text, it sounded like it had been muttered quietly, something he was terrified to admit out loud but unable to keep in any longer.

caelus swallows against the dread of the unknown and calls him instead. counts the rings. sampo picks up on the third ring.

“hey.”

“hi.” caelus wonders at the quiet, single syllable greeting. “you still on the Luofa?”

“mm. thought i’d get a …little drink before turning in for the night. skiff leaves in the morning.”

“is it any good?”

“finest plum wine on the entire Luofa~”

caelus chuckles. “that doesn’t tell me if it’s good.”

there’s a long moment of quiet. “i’ve been a bit… preoccupied. more interesting thoughts to hold my attention.”

“mm.” caelus leaned back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. “feel like sharing?” after a moment of quiet on the other side, he added, “anything to do with the ring you left me?”

“everything to do with it,” sampo whispered.

curled up in bed with the phone pressed to his ear, it felt like sampo was right next to him. caelus waited.

"my plans haven’t changed. you’ve got your work to do and i have mine. our paths are diverging.” sampo stares deeply into the crystal glass of plum wine without seeing it. “and it’s killing me to let go.” the slight break in sampo's voice nearly broke his heart. smooth-talking sampo koski didn't falter or stammer… unless the truth was that painful to tell.

“do we have to?” caelus whispered.

“we should.” that wasn’t a yes. that was the answer of a man who wanted anything but the path he was on.

“where are you?” caelus said suddenly. he pulled himself off the bed and shrugged on his jacket. “gilded frog by the jetty?” He saw the plum wine advertised when he and March and Dan Heng had wandered past that afternoon with snacks in hand.

“don’t,” sampo whispered, lowering his head to his hand. “that’s just going to make this so much harder.”

“you didn’t say we had to, just that we should,” caelus argued, taking off down the hall at a run now, dodging the night maid and skidding around the corner once outside. He waved apologetically at the person he dodged around and kept going. the frog wasn’t too far from their hotel after all and he was the second fastest of their little team. “i don’t want to let go either,” he said breathlessly. “wait for me.”

“cae-”

“please.”

the bartender’s head snapped up as someone burst into the little tavern, panting, phone still pressed to his ear. Sampo turned around, his own phone still at his ear, and locked eyes with Caelus. Caelus grinned and put the phone away, striding across the rest of the place towards the bar.

Sampo sighed, gave him a weary, tipsy smile, and put the phone away. This was only going to hurt a thousand times worse at the end, but seeing Caelus again now, that impending pain seemed light-years away. When they’d met, he would never have thought in a million years that this surly, grouchy-looking little punk harbored a smile like that.

It weakened his heart.

"Cae…" Caelus strode up to him, grabbed his face and pulled him into a deep kiss.

Just like that, whole again. Everything missing had returned. Sampo wound his arms around Caelus' waist and hugged him tightly.

#my writing stuff #hsr #sampo koski #caeSam #SamCae #caePo #?

[stelly38]

The fic progresses. Here's an update. It's still very much a WIP, but we're getting there. Thanks for hanging around!

Ross is in a foul mood.  The department faculty meeting went far longer than planned, and he’s brought a ton of school work home—papers and tests that he’d expected to have finished grading days ago.  He’s also running behind on curriculum development for next semester’s classes.  All he’s got is a rough outline and some books in mind; much of the detail work is still hanging over his head.   

He spreads out at his desk with a beer and a pile of folders, and the day's mail, and flips open his laptop.

Sighing, he sifts through pieces of junk mail and catalogs, setting aside anything that looks important.  There’s one—it’s from the hospital, threatening to turn his account over to collections.  As he’s scrutinizing the bill, his doorbell rings.  In his haste to get up, he topples the bottle and beer begins flowing all over the desk.  Quickly, he moves the laptop out of the liquid’s path and scans the room for something to use to soak up the mess.  The doorbell sounds again, three quick rings in succession.  He grabs a dish towel from the kitchen and answers the door with a miffed expression on his face. 

“I was startin’ to worry,” Demelza says, breezing by him with a grocery bag.  “Hi!”

“Hi,” he answers, one eyebrow raised.  He doesn’t remember inviting her over.  “What’s up?”

“I rented a movie for us,” she says, digging through the paper bag with one hand. 

“Demelza—” Ross starts, but she’s walking down the hallway toward the kitchen, where she sets the bag down on the counter, still feeling for the cartridge inside. 

“Huh, I thought I put it in here…” Absently, she digs through the items in the bag once again, coming up empty. 

“Demelza, listen—”

“Ah, of course,” she exclaims, rifling through her handbag.  “I put it in here.”  She pulls out a DVD case from the school library.  “I got Barefoot in the Park for us, it’s one of my favorites, and I know you haven’t seen it,” she says, her smile radiant.

Ross sighs, his shoulders sagging.

“What?” she says, as her smile fades.

“One second, I’ve got a spill in the office,” he says, and darts around her.  In a couple minutes he’s back, empty beer bottle in hand, saturated towel in the other, which he throws in the sink.

“I can’t hang out tonight; I’ve got too much to do.  You can stay and watch the movie yourself, though.  There’s still some mess in the office that needs a going over—”

He catches sight of the disappointment on her face and stops.

She squints at him, “Weren’t you just complaining to me that you feel like you never have any downtime?” 

“Was I?”

“Yes,” she says, grabbing a roll of paper towels and the bottle of cleaning fluid. 

“I don’t remember,” he says, following her to the office.

“I do,” she continues, assessing the mess of spilled beer on the floor. 

“See all that crap on my desk, Demelza?  That’s all the stuff that should have been done weeks ago,” he exclaims.

She’s busy wiping up the last few pools of beer from his desk; it appears most of it spilled onto the floor.  The top half of the hospital’s collection letter is wet, and she presses it between two dry paper towels in an effort to save it.  Her eyes scan the large figure at the bottom, covered with a red ‘Past Due’ stamp. 

“Oh, don’t bother,” he says, gesturing to the letter.  “There’s not much I can do about it anyway.  Just toss it.” 

She stoops to spray cleaning liquid on the floor, and sops it up with paper towels.  Standing, she crumples the towels in her hand and peeks at Ross.  His brow is furrowed, face stormy, and he’s got his arms crossed.

“Well, if you’re already late on all this, then what difference will one more night make?” 

He glances sharply at her, but she’s smiling beautifully, excited for their evening. 

“Couldn’t you have texted before you decided to come over?” he grumbles. 

“No,” she chirps, walking over to him.

“And why ever not?” he asks, beginning to soften.

“Because you would have told me, ‘Not tonight,’ or some such, and you’d go about with your sour face and your papers,” she pronounces, kissing him.  “And I wanted to see you.”

“So, you just show up, demanding that this is what we’ll do?” he asks, circling her waist.

“Quick learner!” 

He smiles, in spite of himself, and pulls her into an embrace. 

#work in progress #fanfiction #poldark fanfic #ross x demelza #ao3 #modern au

[chooh2]

WIP Whenever!

Tagged by @lokiina to participate in one of these! Actually the second time ✌️ and this time I DO have a couple things I could share with y'all- small stuff but wip's nonetheless :) TY very much lokiina I appreciate it!

Something I plan to finish first is an answer to an ask I got over a week ago now :') im so sorry alkjdfhkas with work back in action i'm busy most of the day and completely wiped out tired the rest of it to do much productive- BUT! I did start putting together the set for the pics I wanna take (90% of it probs wont end up being visible cuz it aint exactly the focus and i've gone a little overboard but thats fiiiine its fun) so i'll share a peek of how that's goin:

I've also been planning out the dialogue for another photo story i'd like to do sometime soon (which with any wip its ALL subject to change but i think it sounds good so far!)

---

[Text Exchange]

Muamar: Your Majesty! Muamar: Your Royal Highness! Muamar: Your Excellency! V: ... V: Lemme guess, got another set of wheels needs redistributing? Muamar: ;) V: Fine, fine, where's the pick-up? Muamar: Flickin' you the coords now- But listen choom, this ain't just ANY ride, want this one brought back in PREEM condition, not a single scratch in sight! Think you can handle that? V: 'Course I can handle it Muamar: That's what I like to hear, V! Got a sneaky feelin' you're gonna LOVE this one, she's a real classic :)

[End of Text Exchange]

V: *looking at the front of a garage, two turrets stationed outside(something else too maybe idk?)*

V: *looking at coordinates on phone* Says this is the place...

V: Got two turrets out front. Security? The hell kinda car they keepin' in there?

Johnny: Oooh, BIG guns!

Johnny: Careful V, think you might've met your match with this one.

V: You tryin' to insult me?

---

And finally, I dont have anything to actually show for this one but i've had an idea for a photo story thats sort of a redo/spiritual successor/part-2 to this post that's been cookin on the back burner for a little while and I am SO SO excited to eventually get started on it but i'm waiting until i can finish a second playthrough of PL first to get a better idea of dialogue and such

And thats about it! :) if you wanna participate and talk abt any WIP's you've got please consider this a tag for YOU!