raerae

A Fanfic addict

[yazzydream]

Gojo not taking care of brats more

[nianre]

"I never wanna get stuck babysitting some brat again." - gojo

Tell that to your future self😀

[cottonberryfinn-deactivated2023]

Introduction

When writing a novel, creating a vivid and memorable main character is essential to engage readers. One way to achieve this is by crafting a detailed and compelling description of their physical appearance. In this post, we will discuss how to write a character's appearance, especially the main character, to create a picture that resonates with your readers.

Describing the Main Character's Appearance

When describing the appearance of your main character, it's important to consider the role they play in the story. This will help you determine the level of detail and the type of language you use to describe them. For example, if your main character is a detective, you might focus on their sharp eyes, the lines on their face, and the way they hold themselves. These details help create an image of a focused and determined individual, which fits the character's role.

Another important factor to consider is your audience. Are they young adults, fantasy lovers, or mystery readers? Each genre has its own conventions that can influence how you describe your main character. For example, a young adult reader might appreciate a description of a main character's stylish clothing, while a fantasy reader might prefer a more detailed description of the character's physical features, such as the shape of their ears or the color of their eyes.

Using Sensory Details

To create a vivid and compelling description of your main character's appearance, use sensory details. Sensory details involve using the five senses (sight, sound, touch, taste, and smell) to describe the world around your characters. For example, if your main character has curly hair, you might describe the way it bounces and catches the light, the sound it makes when they shake their head, and the way it feels when someone runs their fingers through it. Using sensory details can help your readers feel like they are a part of the story and create a powerful emotional connection.

Avoiding Clichés

When describing your main character's appearance, it's important to avoid clichés. Clichés are overused phrases or descriptions that can make your writing seem unoriginal or generic. For example, describing your main character's eyes as "sparkling like diamonds" is a cliché that has been used countless times in literature. Instead, try to come up with descriptions that are unique and specific to your character. This will help make them stand out in your reader's mind and create a more memorable reading experience.

Conclusion

Crafting a detailed and compelling description of your main character's appearance is essential to engaging readers and creating a memorable story. By considering the character's role in the story, and your audience, and using sensory details, you can create a vivid picture in your reader's mind. Remember to avoid clichés and come up with unique descriptions that capture the essence of your character. With these tips, you can write a character's appearance, especially the main character, that will resonate with your readers and bring your story to life.

[call-me-ko]

Signature Scent | K.Bakugou

Bakugou Katsuki has a really sensitive nose. He can reliably pick out the notes of any tea based on its aroma, can tell you exactly what ingredients you're using in the kitchen without even looking at the recipe, and all your candles are chosen by him. Not because he particularly cares about the candles themselves, but rather because he would prefer not to get a headache every time he walks into the living room.

So of course, when you're looking for a new perfume, it's obvious that you have to bring him along. After all, he's not just good at identifying unique scents—he's the love of your life. As much as you acknowledge that this perfume is for your usage and therefore, your happiness and ultimate approval, you'd hate to buy a scent that he absolutely can't stand. You don't want your boyfriend sneezing every time he comes near you.

"Katsuki, what about this one?" You ask, holding up a cute glass bottle. He reads the fine print describing the supposed layering of the scent as you wave the sampler paper in front of his face. Despite how nice the description sounded, in reality he thinks it only smells vaguely like what the designer was trying to conjure.

He wrinkles his nose. "Too powdery. Wouldn't suit you."

Almost everything you had tested so far had met similar criticism. Too floral, too sweet, too musky, too watery. You understand some scents being too strong (you thought he was overreacting in his usual way when he coughed loudly after smelling one, but after sniffing it yourself you had to agree it was bad). But really, how could there not be a single fragrance in the store that he likes? When your next choice is critiqued as "too basic," you confirm your suspicions that now he's just being picky.

It's been almost an hour in the store, and you've sampled most of the fragrances of your interest. You've narrowed it down to two scents that you both agreed "weren't the worst" (his words, not yours), and are trying to make a decision so you aren't late for your dinner reservation. You're so focused on trying to distinguish what you like between the two scents that you don't notice Katsuki has left his spot behind you.

He glances up and down the walls as he walks, each filled with bottle after bottle of expensive fragrance, each with it's own unique shape and mood to evoke. He's about to ask you if you've made up your mind when a certain bottle catches his eye. When he sprays it into the air, a connection sparks in his brain, the light of fading sunshine on warm skin, a calm breeze lingering with a subtle sweetness.

Perfect.

"Y/N." He calls, still holding the bottle. "Try this one."

You put the ones you were looking at aside to see what he's found. It only takes a glance at the bottle in his hand for a giggle to bubble up in your throat.

"Something wrong with it?" He growls. "You dragged me here for my opinion, now you have it."

"There's nothing wrong with it." You take the sampler from his hand and spray it on your wrists. He watches as your smile only grows as you breathe it in. "I'll get this one."

He steps outside while you pay at the register, relieved to take a deep breath of fresh air. He still doesn't know what that scent reminds him of. You liked it too, so he should consider it a win. But it feels like there's some kind of inside joke you're not letting him in on.

When you rejoin him at the storefront, he's tapping his foot impatiently and deep in thought. It must be because he's worried about the dinner reservation, you think. But even throughout dinner, it seems like he's taking way too long to decide what to order, peeking at you every now and then from over the menu and scoffing when you tell him he's acting strange.

He keeps catching whiffs of your newly purchased perfume, and each time his mind wanders. He can identify the key notes, the layers as they fade down, but there's something that he just can't figure out. It smells reminiscent of something, faint but familiar. It bothers him that he doesn't know what it is, and what was that giggle you gave him when you saw him holding it up?

It's even harder to ignore on the ride home. With you sitting so close, it's more intoxicating than it was before. It settles differently on you than it did lingering in the air, but somehow this version smells even more like what he's trying to recall. When you finally arrive back to your apartment, he confronts you before you have the chance to slip into the shower and wash it away.

"Well?" He seems almost accusing, with the way he stands with his hands on his hips. "What aren't you telling me? About that perfume, there's something weird about it."

"Weird bad?" You ask.

"No! Just... weird."

The same smile blooms on your face as you walk towards him, tilting your head back to meet his eyes. "You really don't remember?"

"Am I supposed to remember? They put some weird shit in it, is that it?"

You laugh at his response, pulling him closer. "Maybe you'll remember this." The scent washes over him as you bring your face to his, your lips brushing his ear. "Katsuki."

He instinctively closes his eyes when your lips press to his. He knows your lips, he knows your kiss, there is something about you that has always been familiar.

He remembers now.

Years ago, when he still didn't know how to act around you, you pulled him close like this. That scent lingered on your collar, you whispered his first name like a charm and sent shivers down his spine, captivated and no longer in denial. He remembers how you leaned in close, your arms around his neck as you asked him what he'd do for you, and he'd answered without thinking: anything. He remembers the taste of your lips, the sunlight of the evening, the warmth of your skin, the softness of your face in his hands as he kissed you without remorse, the way he should've all that time. He remembered the kiss, sure, it wasn't the first and it wasn't the last. But not in all that detail. Not until now.

When you pull away, his mind is brought back to where you stand with him in the bedroom.

"I haven't worn this one in years." You stroke a loving hand over his shoulder as you speak, "I ran out of it a little after I met you, but it's funny that you chose this one if you didn't know. Some part of you must've remembered."

It all makes sense now. Of course that's why he liked it, why he couldn't figure out what note he couldn't name. It's because it literally smelled like you, the you from a memory, the you he met and fell in love with years ago. He chose a perfume the you in the past had already chosen.

"Make it your signature scent," He says. "I'll remember it next time."

────────────────────────

A/N: if anyone can’t tell… I got a new perfume recently

A/N 2: posted this earlier this evening but then marked it as private but nOW I’m making it public so here it is again as another post bc I couldn’t figure out the settings lol

Posted: 3/24/23–3/25/23 (second posting)

[onlylovingstrangers]

BREAKING UP WITH ATSUMU

This was not how you'd pictured your vacation.

You stormed ruefully down the marble steps. Your footsteps echoed, and so did the sob that tore out of you as you whirled around, facing the man who so urgently shadowed you.

"I can explain," his eyes were wild, coiffed hair desperately messy, hands gesturing wildly. "Please. Please, I beg. Just— let me explain, okay baby? I'll get on my knees. Just hear me out, okay baby?"

Atsumu sure knows how to put on an act, you realized.

All this time, you'd known he was theatrical. You just hadn't expected his performance to be so good.

"You, you beg me?" The fresh wave of tears surging stung your skin, sensitive from the millions of tears you had already shed. "That might just be the most ridiculous thing you've said tonight."

You'd thought you were playing the role of a lover. You see now you've been given the role of a fool.

Three months ago, when Atsumu showed you the reservation he'd made — a five star resort, the most luxurious spa package available, private pool access, a whole suite for the two of you — you thought he was bringing you here to propose to you.

It had all checked out. You've been living together for a couple of years, he loved your family and they loved him, and — perhaps the most soul-baring of them all — you had just told him your deepest, darkest secret. I used to be cyber bullied, you told him, blushing because you didn't want him to think that something was wrong with you, like that anonymous bastard did.

I was bullied really badly.

So badly that you had stopped going to school for the rest of the year. So badly that for the rest of high school, you took online classes for a graduation certificate instead. So badly that you'd suffered so many violent panic attacks, anxiety attacks, and nightmares that you contemplated ending things.

The next day, Atsumu had surprised you with a large envelope in his hands.

So yeah, you thought he was about to propose. Not in a million years did you think Atsumu was bringing you here to confess all these years later that he had been the bully. The one who sent all things demeaning and hateful to your inbox, the one who humiliated you for the whole school to like and comment and retweet and reblog.

"I—"

"No," you spit. "You don't get to talk to me."

Your mother had cried on your behalf. Your father had gotten on his knees at the police station so they would pursue the case seriously.

"I just one thing to say," Atsumu says breathlessly. "I know I'm an absolute piece of shit. The worst. I can't even begin ta explain or make amends, ever. I know,..."

You'd prayed for revenge. And here, finally, the opportunity presented itself.

Fate took weird twists and turns, but in the end, you came out on top.

Because you knew his vulnerable spot. You knew Atsumu had a violent fear of being abandoned.

His mother had left when he was in junior high, leaving him and his brother to fend for themselves. His father was emotionally distant for most of his life. His brother had deserted their dream of pro-volleyball to become a chef, and though Atsumu spoke heartily of Miya Onigiri, you knew that deep down, the betrayal still stung.

You used to think that Atsumu's suffering was precocious, that his terror of being left behind was a sign of his humility. Now you thought it was simply a by product of being so wholly self-obsessed, of being dangerously self-entrenched.

"...just wanta let ya know. I love you. I can't undo the past—"

"That's right," you said coldly. "You can't undo the past, but I can fill in the future. I don't want to see you ever again."

Suddenly the air tore, sounding like a paper ripping in half.

Where the hell was this sound coming from? Atsumu felt like he couldn't breathe. He sunk to his knees, clutching his throat.

He looked up at you with wide eyes, clutching his throat. How could you be so composed when he was dying?

You stood still, wiping the last of your tears coolly. "Oh, you're fine," you told him. "You're only having a little panic attack. And you know what? You deserve it." You turned on your heel to leave.

"Wait!" Atsumu managed to rasp. "Wait!" He was crying, he realized. Salty tears dropped from the tip of his nose, leapt from the edge of his jawline. "Ya can be mad at me, ya can hate me, ya can want to kill me, but ya can't leave me! Ya can't not need me anymore! Ya can't go," his voice cracked.

You became a silhouette, then a speck, and then part of the horizon.

"She'll come back," he whispered to himself as a mantra. "She'll come back. She'll come back. She'll come back. She'll —" something was digging sharply into his backside. The pain managed to somewhat snap him out of his trance.

Atsumu pulled out a velvet box from his back pocket.

[nianre]

Made me cry 😭this hurts but he deserves it

[tocalehenitusethatmf]

A Fiancé’s Thoughts.

— pairing » Cale Henituse x Fem Reader

— genre » fluff?

— warnings » none.

— summary » I don’t understand my betrothed.

— note » inspired by Horimiya’s chapter 81; A Homely Sadist and The Son of a Baker. It’s also the part II of ‘A Betrothed’s Thoughts’ this time, it’s Cale’s version.

I don’t understand my betrothed.

Why does she like hanging out with that crazy bastard clopeh?

Everytime I ask her why, she just replies, “Because we have the same bias.” With a smug grin.

She likes my face.

Often times I would wake up to her gently brushing the tips of her fingers lightly to my cheeks, nose, forehead, lips, and my hair. She seemed to caress it gently like I was fragile. She’ll give me a loving kiss on my forehead and a soft smile followed by words full of affection, “Good morning, Cale.”

It makes me… feel.

I love waking up to her.

I don’t get my lover.

Why is she calling me a sacrificial bastard when she’s the one who does sacrificial things? And when I’d call her out on it, she’s just look at me dumbfounded like I had grown two heads.

I don’t get her.

I don’t understand my fiancée.

Why does she let those useless pathetic nobles insult her? Doesn’t she realize that she’s more? That there’s more to her than what they think? She fought on the battlefield. Fought with me. Beside me.

She’s the Vice Commander.

Their Vice Commander.

My Vice Commander.

She has the authority to correct them.

Yet why?

However when I voiced it out she simply gave me a smile and said that it doesn’t matter.

Why doesn’t it matter?

Why don’t you matter?

It brought a few arguments between us, but after hearing from her point of view I understood our mistakes.

She’s quite an idiot.

But she’s my idiot.

I love her eyes.

Every time she looks at me, even just a glance, I love it.

Her eyes would sparkle every time I would appear from her vision, when she looks at me—stares at me with love, adoring, affection, gentleness—

Does she know how much I love it?

How much I love her?

I don’t really get my lover.

But she understands me more than anyone does.

I love it.

I don’t understand her.

She loves playing with my hair even though she’s quite bad at styling it.

Whenever she would voice it out— that she’s embarrassed at her skills, the reply I would send to her would always sends her flustered.

Why?

I was merely speaking the truth.

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll love anything you do for me.”

“Y-You can’t just say that!”

Nonetheless, she seems happy.

So I was too.

Even though it was quite hard taking it off at night.

I don’t understand my betrothed.

Despite her telling me countless times that I’m the only one who understood her best.

But I love her.

Even when she hangs out with that crazy bastard clopeh.

[nianre]

This is for a project and I'm just gonna share this here.

[nianre]

(Important place)

No matter what plase you go to, nothing can feel as nostalgic as your own home, that holds so much memories in every corner, whether it is sad or happy. It makes you feel as though it is your safe haven. A place where you belong. That is why whenever I'm away, I am reminded of the song that goes,

'Take me home. Take me home where I belong.'

:tried on using parody as my nobelty lead for this one.

[nianre]

Life after death

What comes after death? Is death simply putting a stop to ones heartbeat? Fading of their pulse? The brain stops from malfunctioning and that's it? What happens after?

When I was young, I was told that my grandma has an illness. At first it was only mild and nothing serious. She slipped and hurt her hips. However as time passed it became more than that. As young as I was, I didn't have a single clue what cancer is. But it was a sickness that was slowly eating away her strength, her energy. I came to the point that grandma wasn't able to move anymore, only laying down her bed all day.

All my aunts, uncles, even my older cousins and of course my grandpa, took turns feeding her, changing clothes, help one another in giving grandma a bath. I was helpless. I wasn't able to do anything other than participate in our nightly prayer, praying to our lord god that grandma will be healed, and be back to kicking our butts because she was awesome like that.

However, at February 16th year 2016. Our dreaded nightmare came. I was playing outside with my friends when one of my cousins came and announced grandma's death. Disgruntled and Confused, I ran after them only to find all my relatives crying. I vividly remember aunt rizza hugging my grandpa as she sobbed onto his shoulder her whole face became red as blood. I guess that no matter how they prepared themselves, no one can ever be really ready for a loved ones death. And as I walked towards my grandmas death bed, the realization, that I will never see her again,play with her again and share my food with her, tears of river fell down towards my cheeks as a loud sob escaped my lips. I didn't touch her, I didn't hug her. still wanting to deny the reality, clinging to a string of hope that it was only a bad dream. Alas, it was not a dream it was reality. And so I grieved despite not knowing what it means. I cried and cried and cried.

The day of her burial came. Everyone's face was tear stained while I remained silent and just watched everything happened. We buried our grandmother to her resting place where we will later visit her regularly. Slowly but surely everyone got better and moved on surely knowing that our grandma wouldn't like it if we stayed sulking over her death that she probably considered as a rest that put a stop to her suffering.

Some time after her death, news came that two of our relatives were pregnant. It was an announcement that brought joy and excitement to every one. New lives are added to our already large family. I was exhilarated, and couldn't wait to welcome our new family members.

If someone asks me what I think comes after death, I will confidently say that there will be new lives. Pure, innocent and untainted. And just like there is light after darkness, day after night, there is life after death.

A/n: another assignment I did in school that I wanted to share cuz why not?

[nianre]

Life i took, Life I regret.

Days filled of anguish.

Nights full of nightmares.

Weeks in question of 'what if's,

Months with endless remorse,

Years buried in guilt.

It doesn't seem to stop.

She cries herself to sleep,and wake up bathing in her tears.

Eyes,that used to always lit up with cheer,had become dull.

Full cheeks had sunken.

Thin wrist had become thinner.

Shoulders are stiff with burdened regrets.

All while her aura is begging for everything to end.

"Mother,why did you do that?"said a child's voice.

The 'Mother' looked around hoping to see the owner of the voice that sound oh so innocent. Only to find an eternal abyss.

"Who are you?", The woman asked in confusion.

"Why are you calling me 'mother'?"

A kid's chuckle was heard. Hearing it, she trembled as it sent shivers down her spine.

"Have you already forgotten me,mother?",asked the voice. "How can you you forget your child,your own flesh and blood that you...killed?"

"W-what?",she gasped, feeling as if someone had dropped a block of ice on her chest, heavy and cold.

"Child?", she murmured to herself, dazed.

"You...you are that child?",she asked,her eyes slowly widened in shock and disbelief.

"That's right. You remember now?",her 'child' asked with a hint of amusement in their voice.

"I have never...forgotten. But,how?"

'how is this possible?'she said at the back of her head.

Her heartbeat started to speed up making her clutch her chest,as her eyes started to glisten with tears.

"You're asking how?the answer is simple.I never left,'mother'."

She gulped,before starting to pant,desperate for air, it felt as though someone was choking her.

"I answered your question.Won't you answer mine, mother?why did you do it?",

They asked.this time, their voice fell flat. Monotone. Emotionless.

"I-i can't.", it was a whisper, but was still heard very clear by her 'child'.

"What do you mean you can't?"

Despite not seeing the child, the woman can imagine them frowning, judging by the tone of their voice.

She, once again swallowed the lump in her throat, before talking, her voice shaking still.

"I can't bring you up in this twisted world.I was to young,dropped out of school,with no job to even support myself." she released a shaky breath, failing to stop a tear from slipping down her left cheek.

"Your grandparents we're apalled,disappointed and angry at my pregnancy. They threw me out."

Her whole body was trembling as she continue to cry a river. Sobbing her heart out.

"Your father...I don't know who he was. I just..."

She trailed of, hazy memories of the night she despised came rushing to her. When being helplessly dragged by rough hands to a place she can't remember while feeling weak and hot after drinking one glass of wine. She may not recall everything that happened that night, it was engraved in her head how disgusted she was waking up the next morning feeling how violated she was.

Disgusted, scared and scarred forever. With scars that won't heal unlike the marks marring her wrist from the wounds she inflicted on herself.

"If I brought you up to this world,you will only suffer."

'Just like how I did.'

She hiccuped,not able to stop the tears flowing down her cheeks.

For a moment there was nothing but the sound of her sobbing.

"But... isn't better to live in suffering than not having to live at all?"

You don't understand. She wanted to say. However, saying so would be hypocritical of her, who no matter how may times she wanted to, she couldn't bring herself to deepen the blade on her wrist. Even if she denies it, there was still a big part of her that clings onto life, hoping for a better morrow.

"I wanted to live too. Experience what a child does. Feel the love of my mother, go to school and make friends, and create unforgettable memories. But I can't do that now. I can't."

Their voice cracked as their last words reduced to a mere whisper.

Once she heard their response,the woman looked up from her hands that were covering her face.

As she tilted her head up,she saw an outline of a body of a child. At that,her knees gave out.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Mama is...sorry",she continues again and again.

In an endless abyss, only her cries and apologies can be heard.

A/n : this is the first time I posted something I wrote and frankly, I'm a little nervous for some reason. Also, this little something I wrote is actually an assignment in school a year ago. Wanted to share it cuz why not?

I'm obsessed with fanfictions. but a little hesitant on writing one. should I do it or not?

Go for it.

Don't.

Voting ended onApr 10, 2023