#*insert vague complaining here*

[emeritusemeritus]

I didn’t want to be alone [Eddie Munson X Reader]

Title: I didn’t want to be alone.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader {Established friendship but deliberately vague, can be romantic or not}. Platonic!Wayne Munson&Reader.

Timeline: Non-specified. There’s a brief mention of ‘trauma’ that I’d originally written as events from ST 1-3 but it could be anything. Insert your troubles here.

Summary: When things in your mind get bad, you know you always have a place to go.

Warnings: Brief mentions of trauma, illusions of mental illness. Sadness/ depression. This is a comfort fic. Wayne looks after us. Wayne Munson being the father figure we all need.

Word count: 3.4k

This is a complete comfort fic that I wrote to try and make myself feel better, a concept I came up with to try and get to sleep one night. My toddler isn’t sleeping, I haven’t slept properly for days and I’m losing my mind- keep me in your thoughts as I drown in coffee.

The last thing Wayne Munson expected to see when he pulled up to his trailer at 4am after his monthly half shift was your car; he especially didn't expect to see you sat stationary within the car, staring blankly up towards the dark trailer home. He frowns as he cuts the engine to his beat up truck, grabs his trusty brown thermos and metal lunchbox before he climbs out of the truck. When his eyes fix on you again, he sees that you haven't moved even an inch, not even acknowledging his approach. Your chin rests on your arm slung over the wheel, body slumped down in your seat with a vacant expression on your face, eyes heavy and pained. He can tell immediately that something isn't right with you, your body language completely thrown off as you stare into the void, unaware of everything around you.

He'd seen you look like this only once before, but Eddie had mentioned in passing that you'd had 'episodes' one or two times before, something about trauma, something that had haunted you from a few years back. Wayne was a simple man and didn't pretend to know what any of that meant, nor would he intrude and ask you about it when you so clearly didn't want to open up about what was plaguing you. He figured better people with bigger brains than he would be the only people that could understand what you were going through, but he'd try his best to help you where he could.

Wayne knows better than to make you jump in your impaired state and so he tried to delicately walk over to your car, putting himself directly in your eye line so that you wouldn't be alarmed once you realised he was there. It takes a minute or so for your eyes to focus on him, flicking over at the slow movement in your peripheral vision. Your shock at seeing him makes his eyes pull tight together in a squint, fighting the urge to frown at your unusual behaviour. 

He walks over to your car door and finally takes in your appearance, the crease lines in his face getting deeper as he frowns once again, seeing that you are in no way dressed appropriately for the bitter cold, wearing only a pair of lounge shorts and an oversized band shirt that he instantly recognises as his nephew's.

You wind the window down as Wayne leans in, careful to be gentle with you as he sees the glassy, pained look still overwhelming your face, even after you'd broken out of your trance.

"What're you doing here girl? Got your key don't ya?" He says, trying his hardest to keep his tone balanced and his voice gentle; not an easy feat for a self proclaimed gruff, southern born hick like Wayne.

Wayne cringes as he feels the low temperature inside your car, the cold drifting out from your rolled down window. Somehow the inside of your car was even colder than the crisp, early morning air outside. Only then did Wayne remember you complaining that the heat and the ac in your car had busted a couple of weeks ago, but you couldn't afford to get it fixed right away on account of your 'full time student and part time waitress' salary.

You stare at him for a lingering moment, not even making a single attempt to reply as you usually would, the only sign that you had heard him at all was a subtle twitch of your eye. You eventually turn to look away, averting your gaze from his concerned eyes to stare back towards the trailer which was pitch black inside with no sign of life.

"I didn't know what to do," you said quietly, your voice timid and weak as you fought to push out your thoughts. "I remembered what you said about coming over anytime I needed to not be alone, but then I remembered the date and that Eddie was away at his gig. Then I remembered you said that Eddie didn't even have to be here, when you gave me the spare key. I got in my car and drove here but then I got stuck, not able to go inside because I'd be a burden but I couldn't leave either."

Wayne was quiet at he listened intently to you, giving you the time you needed to explain, knowing how hard it must be for you to speak your thoughts out loud. He silently nods gently, knowing at least partially what you were feeling as he acknowledges your troubles. He thinks it strange how often you said 'remembered' in the sentence, knowing that your words sounded uncharacteristic but he assumes that it is just you voicing your thoughts as they appeared in your head.  His heart breaks a little at hearing your sad words, knowing that you must have felt real bad to have jumped in your car and drove all the way out here without thought of a jacket.

"Let's get you inside, 'fore ya catch a damn cold," he says gently, wanting to get you into the warmth as he sees goose flesh spreading across your skin and the unmistakable bounce of your leg from your body fighting the cold. He expects to be met with more resistance than you offer as you simply nod and reach for the keys that are still in the ignition. He opens the door for you, juggling his belongings in his arms as he leads you up the concrete steps to the trailer and unlocks the door, offering a tiny smile of empathy at you as he steps aside, allowing you to enter first.

As you step in, you're immediately met with stagnant warm air from the trailer being shut up all day, retaining the last slithers of heat emitted by the old space heater Wayne must have had on before he went to work. The trailer smells like home to you and immediately offers a level of comfort that you could never get anywhere else. There's a lingering smell of cigarette smoke which hangs thick in the air, mixed with a hint of Eddie's cheap cologne and old spice, old coffee and the overwhelming scent of both Eddie and Wayne, their warm natural scents mixing to create the personalised blend of the Munson trailer.

You tentatively take a seat on the couch once offered by Wayne, who immediately sets to turning on a few lamps before boiling some water for a warm drink for you both, throwing down his lunchbox and thermos on the counter in the process. He grabs two mugs from the cabinet, but immediately changes his mind as he thinks of way to cheer you up. He walks past you to reach for one of his many display mugs, grabbing your favourite of the bunch and rinses it in the sink before setting the two mugs aside to make a drink. He begins to pull out the coffee but stops himself, knowing that the last thing you need is a blast of caffeine in your system and so he reached for the small box of tea that he kept in just for you, pulling out your preferred flavour as he makes the drinks.

He takes a look at you as he waits for the water to boil, finally seeing you in the light that he'd turned on as you entered. Your eyes look dark and sunken, dark purple circles formed underneath your once sparkly eyes, telling him that you hadn't slept a wink.  Your hair was haphazardly thrown up into a messy bun, faint smudges of mascara were present under your eyes and overall you looked thoroughly exhausted.

When he walks over to you, he's delicate with his approach, offering the tea out to you with a gentle smile. He notices your eyes widening slightly once you spot the special mug and a small smile tugs at your lips which he's thankful for as it means your coming out of your dark place. You mumble a thank you as you cradle the warm Star Wars mug in your hands, the heat rolling through your cold and shivering body.

"You wanna talk about it?" He says quietly, taking a seat and bringing his own mug to his lips. He sees a frown form on your eyebrows before your eyes close and you shake your head no at his suggestion. He simply nods, respecting your decision and giving you the grace of not asking any follow up questions.

"I'm sorry," your little voice says after a few silent moments.

"Don't ever be sorry, you did the right thing by coming here darlin," Wayne replies sweetly, to which you reply with a kind and grateful smile. "You're welcome here night or day."

Neither of you speaks for a moment, though it's a comfortable shared silence rather than an awkward interlude.

"So how come you ain't with Eddie at his gig?" Wayne asks a few moments later, taking another sip of his coffee. Your eyes flash with angst again and he suddenly regrets asking as your face drops slightly, not realising that his question could trigger you.

"I had an exam, couldn't get out of it," you shrugged gently, not managing to lift your eyes up from their fixed point upon your mug, watching the steam rise from the hot tea inside.

"You do okay?" Wayne asks, feeling a little awkward at asking. Eddie had always been a handful, especially when it came to doing his homework and anything academic, and Wayne's questioning of how projects went or finals or whatever else had fallen on deaf ears many years ago.

You nodded gently in reply, a little apprehensive maybe, "yeah I think so, it was only after when things started to go bad."

Wayne knew immediately that you were referring to your episode earlier, and his heart ached more for the girl in front of him who seemed so broken down, the girl he had grown to care for like a daughter. You fell quiet again, staring into space looking so exhausted you could drop down where you sat.

"Tell ya what, why don't ya go lay down in Eddie's room for a while, take your tea with yer," Wayne suggests, leaning forward slightly as he talked, not quiet reaching out to you but feeling a little closer to do so. "I'll make us some grub once you wake up."

You immediately begin to weakly protest, already feeling like a burden but Wayne shuts it down quickly. "Ain't no different then having Eddie here, 'cept you got a better sense of hygiene and noise control," he joked, earning a chuckle from you. "I'll be right through here if you need anything, ain't sleeping yet and I ain't going anywhere." His voice was still gentle but his words held a level of insistence which meant you couldn't question him, knowing he was being entirely honest.

"Uncle Wayne, thank you," you smiled gently, standing up off the couch and making your way through to the familiar back room, carrying your mug, before closing the door.

Stepping into Eddie's room without him here felt a little odd, but the sight of the room alone was enough to comfort you even more. Cigarette smell lingered here too, mixed with the faint whiff of marijuana, Eddie's cheap cologne and a general boy smell which wasn't entirely unpleasant. His guitar, sweetheart, was missing off the wall, along with two of the three amps that were usually littered around on the limited floor space.

You placed your mug on the nightstand, beside the ashtray, and didn't hesitate to throw yourself down onto the bed, pulling the sheets up high so that you were essentially cocooned in them. The sheets smelt perfectly like Eddie. Bringing them up to your nose to scent him, you felt instantly calmer by the second.

You could hear the faint murmur of the tv in the lounge, knowing that Wayne would probably be watching the 5am news or a repeat of his favourite western, the Comancheros. The knowledge of him being right outside was enough to comfort you even more, knowing that you weren't alone anymore.

For the first time since your episode began, you felt like you could actually finally fall asleep; the comfy bed, the lingering scent of Eddie all around you and the soft comforter all equated to your relaxed, happy state. Your tired eyes closed on their own accord, suddenly overwhelmed by the heaviness that pulled at them and without any hesitation or conscious effort, you slipped into a deep sleep, putting the bad day behind you.

Only a few hours later, early in the morning when Eddie's van roared up the dirt road towards the trailer, music turned down only slightly from its usual blaring volume, until it came to a sharp stop right outside his trailer. He frowned when he saw not only your car but his uncles truck parked outside, not expecting either of you to be there when he got back.

He stepped into the trailer and immediately spotted his uncle lounging in his armchair, a western playing on the old tv, without any sign of you.

Eddie nods to his uncle in greeting, before opening his mouth to question your whereabouts until Wayne instantly brings his finger to his lips, attempting to silence the boy from speaking too loudly. He didn't say anything in the moment, merely pointing towards the closed door leading to Eddie's room, hoping that he'd catch what he was trying to say.

Eddie nods his head, frowning a moment later as he realised what must have happened and that he wasn't here to help.

"You're back early boy," Wayne states, reaching for the tv remote to mute it, reaching out to grab a cigarette from the pack before lighting it, watching his nephew do the same thing only moments behind him after placing down the guitar in it's carrier by the small table.

"Gig was cancelled, burst pipe, never even made it on stage," Eddie mumbled, clearly annoyed at the facts he was relaying.

"There's always next time son," Wayne replies, taking a drag of his cigarette, earning a gentle nod from his nephew. "She's asleep, told her to get down in your room."

At the mention of you, Eddie's eyes flicker to the closed door of his bedroom, a warmth filling his gut at the thought of you sleeping in his room, especially without him there. Though he hated the thought of you suffering alone, disliking the thought of it happening when he wasn't here to help a little too much, the fact that you sought out him and his home gave him a little possessive buzz.

"Thanks Wayne, for, yanno," he couldn't quite get the words out that he wanted to say, feeling a little uncomfortable at the emotional weight in the conversation. Wayne understands, he always does and gives Eddie a nod that tells him everything, the look in his eyes conveying his affection for you, especially the way that it silently says 'I'd do it for you too'.

Eddie puts out his cigarette and with one last thankful look towards his uncle, creeps down the hall to his bedroom and slides open the door, trying desperately not to spook you.

It's dark in the room, the only light peeking through the window is from the street light a few meters away that shines rays of light over you thanks to his broken blinds.

He feels a little creepy watching you sleep but he can't resist, seeing you cocooned in his own sheets looking blissfully peaceful, the demons you carried not haunting your dreams. Your hair is spread across the pillow and there's a brief moment where he is genuinely excited that his sheets will smell like you the next night.

He doesn't fully undress, only throws off his shoes and the jeans that were still heavy and filled with ticket stubs and random change that he'd accumulated on the journey to the venue and then straight back. He's delicate as he climbs into bed beside you, praying he doesn't disturb you or worse, frighten you.

He sucks in a breath when he feels you move, no doubt sensing the presence behind you and for a moment he holds his breath, trying to stay completely still.

"Eddie?" You murmur sleepily, the hopefulness in your voice making his heart beat just a little harder at the sound.

"M'here princess," he says gently, pressing his hand delicately to your shoulder. He lets out a little noise of content when you turn over in bed and snuggle down into his chest, bringing your warmth with you. The pair of you cuddling wasn't entirely unheard of, but Eddie was certain it had never been this intimate before, not that he was complaining.

"Wanna talk?" He offers after a few moments of silence, sensing that your breathing hadn't returned to your peaceful sleep pattern. You shake your head on his chest and try to snuggle further down, secretly inhaling more of his scent as you sought comfort that only he could provide.

"How was your gig?" You mumbled, sleepiness still making you slur your words just a little, feeling as if speaking in full was too much effort.

"Got cancelled princess, s'why I'm back," he explains gently. His ringed hand has started to absently rub back and forth across your back and you wish he'd never stop doing it.

"What time is it?" You ask, sitting up just enough to look at him, though you could only really make out his outline in the darkness. You frown, suddenly realising that Eddie was back much, much earlier than you'd anticipated and his words of explanation slowly sunk in. "It got cancelled, why?"

Once again, Eddie feels like the grinch with his heart expanding in significant increments, feeling it grow and swell at your distraught tone. You actually cared that the gig was cancelled.

"Pipe burst," he says with a shrug, a much calmer reaction to the news than he'd had only a few hours ago when he'd gone ballistic and kicked the tyres of his van.

"I'm sorry Eddie, you were really excited." He smiles down at you, even if you can't see it. Suddenly feeling overwhelming affection for you. He shrugs again and pulls you closer, holding on to you just a little tighter.

"So, do you come here often without me? Think I might be developing a complex here princess." Even in the dark you can hear the smirk in his voice and you use your head to jab him just a little in the ribs at his insinuation.

"Better when you're here," you mumble, resting your head again against his soft body. "Just needed you."

Eddie bites back a smile, knowing that you would never dare say that in the light of day but somehow between the darkness and the late, or early, hour, everything said between you both seems like a secret, your own little world created where nothing is out of bounds.

"How did your exam go?" He asks, still slowly running his ringer fingers across your back.

"Sssh, too much talking," you say with a smile, not wanting to think about the day before. He understands, it was a Munson's best quality after all to know when talking wasn't beneficial; when being arrested, in an argument with your woman and just occasionally when the moment was so perfect no words would be good enough.

"Coffees on me in the morning," he says, his eyes closing as he feels your breathing even out again, your body sinking further into him as sleep begins to take over.

"Mmmm, sounds nice," you say lightly, the tiredness and proximity to sleep so clear in your voice that it makes Eddie smile out into the dark room.

"Donuts too," he adds, kissing the top of your head as it rests on his chest, feeling prouder than he'd ever felt before. You'd found comfort in him and in turn he'd found comfort in you too, both of you slowly sailing off to sleep surrounded by each other, the pains of the day before disappearing entirely.

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[the-s1lly-corner]

Brick (Ending 8) (Shrimpo x Reader)

And to think I added his trinket as a gag 💔😭 absolute disgrace that he got an ending before my beautiful king rodger/j/lh

Notes: gn toon reader, pre game, possibly the shortest ending yet, shrimpo is... shrimpo..., technically an indirect vague confession if you read between the lines, dear God I hate writing in all caps, you scold him into using a partial inside voice, its... shrimpo.... not sure what you guys are expecting, tbh this one kind of turned into a vague/soft vent i fear the admin has some pent up anger and he inserted himself into the reader for this because shrimpo kinda acts like some people in admins life, no kiss there is only rage here, reader does NOT rock with shrimpo

Word count: 2.2k

CWs: none

Everyone’s eyes glue onto you as you reach your hand into the opening of the sack and pull out…

Whatever it was, it felt rough and cold on your fingers. Like it a chunk of concrete- rough and stony. It definitely had some weight to it as you tried to wrap your hand around its girth… some awkward blind shifting and you finally found a decent hold. You could hear whatever it was scrape against everyone else’s belongings as you dragged it as carefully as you could to the opening- you bite back a slight cringe… even as you tried your best to minimize any damage you had a feeling some of the more delicate trinkets were at least a little scratched. 

It was stone. Concrete? It was a brick, that’s what it was. Someone had put a brick in the sack and you had no idea who would do that. For a passing second you looked to Looey- perhaps he was branching out of his jokes in favor of pranks. The balloon toon’s brow scrunched together with a squeak the second your gazes locked onto one another. He shook his head as silently as he could against his latex. Next you looked to Dandy who genuinely looked just as lost and confused as you. 

“I ain’t too sure who’s that is Dewdrop-” Dandy started before a loud and harsh scoff (which quickly turned into a shout) cut his sentence off right there. 

“I HATE THIS GAME ALREADY!” Shrimpo’s voice nearly growled between his sharp teeth as he basically shook in his spot from his seething. His fists were curled tightly in on themselves, as they usually were as he eyed the brick in your hand with an intense stare. 

You… actually weren’t expecting the crustacean to put something into the sack but… now that you thought about it he always had a tendency to do anything to find something to complain about. Or do nothing at all. Complaining and hating were the two things he always did and quite frankly you didn’t feel too keen about being stuck in a room for him for a round. Part of you wanted to reject him right there on the spot… but that felt… cruel- when every other toon’s eyes were bouncing between you and him. 

You don’t think he would have given you the same mercy. 

You almost wished he would have stormed out of the party right there just so you didn’t have to nurse the inevitable headache that would come from him. 

Alas, Dandy had to do one of the things Shrimpo hated the most: a suggestion. 

“You know Shrimpo, you don’t have to play- You can sit out this round if you don’t want-” 

And just like that the flower had sealed your fate. It didn’t matter that he gave you an apologetic look as Shrimpo’s face curled into an ugly snarl. The blushing marks on his cheeks melded into the redness spreading over the rest of his face.

“DON’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO!” The angry toon snapped back. Even from here you could hear his molars clacking together. The noise made you cringe inwardly… one had to wonder if he ever cracked his teeth under the tightness he forced his jaws through. 

You nearly shrunk under Shrimpo’s gaze as his hot black eyes landed right on you… if looks could kill you were sure you’d already be six feet under. Clamminess claimed your palms as he suddenly stomped forward and snatched the brick out of your sweaty hand. 

“Erm… right! Right, okay! Well… in any case, you both have seven minutes,” Dandy cleared his throat. The flower gave you another apologetic look as you shuffled quietly a few feet behind Shrimpo as he stormed down the hallway to the Christmas gift shop. He was so slow you could feel the muscles in your thigh burn and tense as you forced yourself to remain slower- just so you didn’t catch his attention again, to avoid being at the receiving end of his rage. 

Seriously, what was his problem? Why was he made like this…? 

That was mean, and as much as you were dreading this you felt bad for the thought. It’s not like he was designed to be like this- at least you don’t think he was… were… toons predetermined before they were created? Were you destined to be like this by someone else- was it by design that you were currently walking down the hall with a pit in your stomach as your eyes absentmindedly trained themselves on the flexing tail on the back of his head? 

You shake yourself back to the moment. You can be existential later when you were out of an enclosed space with a fishy smelling crustacean. 

Shrimpo didn’t even bother holding the door open for you as he marched into the storage room- the pit in your stomach deepened as you followed after him. The moment the door closed you wished you at least tried to convince him to stay in the gift shop area. 

The staleness of the air only seemed to make the briny fish smell clinging onto him worse. He smelled raw. Why did he smell like that- 

The amount of self control you needed to exercise to keep a neutral composure on the outside was immense. 

You planted yourself against the wall and tried to stare straight ahead as Shrimpo paced around impatiently around the room. His feet left obvious footprints in the thick layer of dust under him. Some stings of it where it had clumped to someone’s shed hair clung to the soles of his feet. You hated it but you chose not to say anything. Even if you wanted to start a conversation you were sure Shrimpo would just get pissy or shut it down in an instant. 

Seriously, what was the point of participating in something if you were going to be so blatantly upset about the entire ordeal? It made no sense- what was the point of doing it if you weren’t having fun? You press your shoulder blades deeper into the wall. He hadn’t even done much to acknowledge you but his mere existence made you angry. His attitude made you angry. The way his face scrunched made you angry. 

Maybe anger was an overstatement, but it was definitely at least some level of annoyance. He hadn’t even said anything directly to you and you were already so over this. 

Would you be blamed for ending the round early? A minute hadn’t even passed. 

Thump thump thump. 

His feet continued to slam against the old wooden floor under him. It wasn’t even a consistent rhythm or volume- and as tired of you were of the word already it tacked on another level to your irritation. 

ThumP thuMp ThUmp 

You tried to focus on the floor in front of you instead of the noise. Repetition never sat well with you, even worse when it was imperfect repetition. Misophonia or perhaps something else you weren’t sure; but you didn’t feel all that interested in trying to pick apart that aspect of you at the moment. 

“THE FACE YOU’RE MAKING LOOKS STUPID.” Shrimpo’s voice suddenly broke through the not silence. You didn’t even realize you were making a face but once he brought it up you could feel the soreness already making itself home in your jaw. A knot of pain started to form itself in the middle of your creased forehead- every attempt to try to smooth over your brow failed as it knitted itself back into the bunched position it now felt natural… you never liked how it felt like someone was hovering their fingers above the skin of your forehead when you focused too hard on forcing your face to fall flat. 

You weren’t the only tense toon in the room. His voice was far too loud. It bounced against the dirty cold walls and that seemed to be enough to push you over the edge. 

You swear you weren’t this quick to upset. You promise, to no one at all, that you never lost your temper like this. You preemptively felt stupid for dignifying the toon literally made to be a bully and a hater with a response. The words spilled out of your mouth- as sharp as his voice was booming. The tone felt foreign on your tongue despite the way the words rolled right out.

“Do you ever actually have some real input or do you just talk to hear your own voice?” You snapped back- and you kept going as you tensed up against the cold wall. Your stance remained otherwise the same, save for the rigidness settling in your bones and muscles. 

“You sure talk real loud for someone with nothing valuable to say.” 

The shrimp actually looked flabbergasted by your words- or maybe by your sudden lash out. Most people just moved on from what he said or simply walked away. 

But you were stuck in here and the rush of pride to stay right where you would kept you rooted to the spot. Whatever that said about you as a person you didn’t care, your ego couldn’t take the idea of him thinking he won this. Perhaps not the most healthy thing, but to hell with maturity and being the bigger person. 

Shrimpo’s eyes fixed themselves hard on you before they drifted down to his feet. For once in his rage filled life the fire in him seemed shaken. Why didn’t you feel more proud of that? Was your intention not to get him to back down and go quiet? 

You didn’t apologize and you didn’t feel like you had to. 

Maybe that was a bad thing but the stinging of the dust in your eyes just kept you on edge enough to keep from working through the knot of thoughts suddenly bouncing around in your head. 

Why would he partake in something he clearly hated so much? 

Why would you participate in something that was making your insides feel like hot oil? 

For pride? 

You glanced at Shrimpo out of the corner of your eye as he remained in his stunned stance. No pity passed through you in the moment. Only about two or three minutes have passed and things were already getting tense. 

If toons were designed to act a certain way they certainly did a good job at making Shrimpo as unbearable as possible. Nasty attitude, short temper, and he always had something nasty to say to someone with no regard to how it would make them feel. Toon and visitor. It didn’t matter to him… and for someone who was so open to slinging it out he couldn’t seem to take it when it was tossed right back in his face. 

Sure, your words were harder and far more specific than his general blanket statements but could you be blamed? 

Excuses. 

Maybe not sympathy and hardly pity but you came back down just enough to hiss through your teeth to release some tension. 

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have gone off like that,” 

The back of your tongue curled awkwardly in your mouth as you dragged the words out- only half sincere. If it wasn’t going to be you, someone else was going to say it eventually. Right or not it was going to happen. 

The crustaceans mouth morphed from his usual scowl to a pulled thin line. 

And for the first time since you met the wretched toon you actually heard his voice take on a softer edge. Still a tense growl but no longer a shout. 

“I don’t like how you make me feel.” 

He didn’t use the word hate. He didn’t curse at you- though… now that you thought about it you don’t think you’ve ever heard him drop a swear word oddly enough- he didn’t look angry. Not even embarrassed. Sheepish maybe, but there was clear conflict riddled in the crease between his brows. 

It sounded more than a simple “I didn’t like how you made me feel just now” statement. 

“It feels weird.” 

You look away from him. It wasn’t worth risking going off on him again. You were starting to feel weird. Rapidly the rage burning inside you melted away into something lukewarm and slimy. Guilt, awkwardness, shame- you felt weird, too. 

You didn’t bother with responding to him either. There was little trust in your vocal cords to make the words sound calm and normal again. 

The final four minutes of the game felt almost agonizing, but you were grateful when Dandy came around to let you both know time was up. 

Absolutely no time was wasted as you pushed yourself off of the wall and towards the door. A half glance was spared to check if Shrimpo was following you- who had looked as deep in thought as he could be- 

Dandy at least tried to get his attention as you slinked your way out of the storage room and back to the party- though the desire to mingle and play games with everyone else was tarnished. Made worse when several toons glanced over at you. The feel of your face still felt wrong and stiff. They had to have noticed. 

The muttered whispers only stuck the knife in deeper- had they heard the two of you? They must have heard Shrimpo… but were you louder than you thought you were? 

You don’t notice Shrimpo rejoining the party- or his lack of reappearance. At the moment you simply wanted to stew and recuperate by yourself over a glass of whatever concoction was mixed in the punch bowl. 

The entire interaction was…

Weird.

[deepcoraldragon]

So at this point it feels a bit like beating up a dead horse, but this whole situation is still so wild to me, and I wanted to write down some main things

In no particular order (written with text-to-speech because I typed too much during the holidays and hurt my shoulder and wrist… thumbs up emoji):

Dream had nothing to do with the original argument! He just inserted himself and then complained about people attacking him and ccs being “against him” like he wasn't the one who decided to come out of nowhere and say that

Dream saw Tommy beefing with Trump supporters and went Oh no I need to help and then sided with the Trump supporters 🫠

Dream’s dig wasn't even at Tommy himself but at his followers which makes even less sense

Specifically, at the old DSMP fans who still watch Tommy… Like, that used to be your audience! We joke about dream taking credit for everything but those are actually the people who made your career!

Dream thinks that reclaiming a slur means still using it as an insult 💀. “I'm autistic so I get to call 15 million people mentally deficient for the lolz and if people protest, well that's just Twitter being Twitter”

calling Tommy’s audience “the worst of the worst” when his own fanbase is notorious for harassing and doxing people

the entire Reddit post, actually. He's done this a dozen times by now and he still hasn't learned to shut up! Stop digging yourself a bigger hole

Acting all annoyed and asking what the “rule” is… The rule is don't call people slurs 😭

saying Tommy “lies about him constantly.” I don't even know what he could be referring to here. vague on purpose

“slur slinging slasher” why are we doing alliterations

Calling Tommy the Internet police for making fun of a Trump supporter

“Hopefully I can be forgiven” and he hasn't apologized once

Of all the things he's done I can't believe this is the one he's doubling down on. This almost feel like ragebait

I probably won't answer comments because, again… Ouch

[wendynerdwrites]

A Measured Response: A Measured Response

Above please find the video I'm responding to, "A Measured Response" by James Somerton. If he deletes later (and I suspect he may), I will reblog with an embed of a copy of the video.

Also note: Much of this is taken from comments I made on his video. But I believe he may be deleting them. Or I got caught up in the spam filter because I commented more than once out of sheer frustration with what I was hearing.

James,

Okay, I am going to start off with a couple things I will give you credit for:

1) Acknowledging the shitty effect nuking your channel had on Nick's career and prospects. That's actually something that hasn't been discussed much and it is genuinely good of you to volunteer that to your audience. As someone who once had her own portfolio nuked by former partners, that's a good thing to bring up. No notes there. That was a good move.

2) You actually used the word 'plagiarism' this time.

I would also like to say that I am glad that you are safe and I am glad you are still alive.

I'm hearing lots about insurance, and your mental health struggles, and the move YOU chose to make "disrupting everything" and your mom's death, "not citing things correctly", how ADHD apparently made you plagiarize, and how hard things are for you. And how people harassed and doxxed you. How you totally want to prove yourself!

Here's what I'm not hearing about:

1) The harassment campaign you launched against your accusers that literally caused them to go into hiding. Sorry, but you don't get sympathy points about death threats and doxing without at least expressing remorse when you did that to others. You haven't mentioned it once. you also falsely accused OTHERS of sending harassment your way and have not acknowledged it.

2) The multiple transphobic and misogynistic lies you told.

3) The tangible impact of queer erasure YOU ENGAGED IN. You barely mention any of the people you stole from. Believe it or not, James, but those people? They also had lives, and jobs, and obligations. Some of them also had dead parents. Then there are the queer people you erased the identities of, slandered, and insulted. Becky Abertelli had to deal with YEARS of the same sort of harassment you're complaining about because of people calling her straight. And even after she was FORCED OUT OF THE CLOSET, you perpetuated that lie again. And yes, YOU DID, JAMES. PUTTING HER IN THE 'STRAIGHT AUTHORS' CATEGORY IS CALLING HER STRAIGHT, JAMES. THAT'S HOW CATEGORIES WORK. Then when she briefly corrected you, you lied about her repeatedly and inserted nasty little vague comments about her so that you could bait your audience into asking about it and claim she harassed you on twitter for not liking her show (which never happened once. She didnt even bring up you straight-washing her on twitter. It was in your comments section.). So not only did you lie, you went out of your way to create opportunities to lie about her more.

4) The outright dangerous rhetoric you engaged in. Such as:

a) You lied about the AIDS epidemic and generations of actual queer activists who you claimed didn't care about employment discrimination and just wanted to have "big gay weddings" because they were "boring. This is a false and dangerous retelling of queer history, not only isolating new generations of queer people, but also erasing the tangible benefits of the legal benefits you enjoy now, James. THEY WANTED MARRIAGE SO THEY COULD HOLD THEIR DYING LOVERS' HANDS AS THEY PASSED AND ATTEND THEIR FUNERALS, JAMES. THEY WANTED MARRIAGE SO THEY WEREN'T KICKED OUT OF THEIR HOMES AND STRIPPED OF BENEFITS DURING A HEALTH PANDEMIC, JAMES. THEY DID FIGHT FOR EMPLOYMENT RIGHTS, JAMES. THAT'S HOW SEXUALITY BECAME A PROTECTED CLASS. Lying about and downplaying the legal rights these valiant "boring" people fought for misleads current generations of queer people into caring less about their history, the people who have done the most for them, and protecting the legal rights so desperately won.

b) All the gay Nazi shit. I feel like I shouldn't have to explain why inventing facts about all the Nazi secret police and youth counselors being gay and extorting people for sex under the Reich is so insanely dangerous and disgusting, but here's a hint: it casts your own community as being the vile, perverted criminals that THE ACTUAL PEOPLE WHO WANT YOU DEAD (you know, homophobes? Not people on the internet who noticed you plagiarized the Celluloid Closet) perpetuate in order to sell their draconian policies to the masses.

c) all the misogyny. I get it, you want to erase the discrimination against women (and people you claim are women) have faced, especially as queer women. You wanted to pretend Radcliffe Hall was allowed to "carry on with her happy little life." You wanted your audience to believe that. You wanted your audience to shit on women for moral panics you made up. You wanted to erase the queer identity of a woman who had already been through Hell and then pass it off as justified. With the rising tied of renewed misogyny,, incel attacks, and reproductive rights being stripped from us, you really, really wanted to sell the message of women being whiny, jealous bitches who get handed everything, never deal with consequences, and hate people for not liking their work. (TBH, it feels a bit like projection on your part) thank you for spreading so much incel rhetoric and transphobia and making your audience ignorant of the great contributions women have made to LGBTQIA history.

I'd respect you more if you would just own up to the obvious biases you clearly have.

That's not all, but my hands are getting tired.

5) That you were caught lying about the contents of Hbomb's video in your initial patreon response.

6) The worth of the people you stole from.

7) Using Nick's asexuality as an excuse for your acephobic AF bullshit about how ace people apparently never dealt with institutional oppression when they're the most likely to be sent to conversion camp and have had corrective rape used as a "treatment" throughout history. Like, holy shit, James.

8) How you tried to lay blame for your shitty, stolen work on your own audience because "you didn't wanrt to make them and they were patreon requests." You didn't have to keep video requests as a perk. Those people paid over $300 to you for those wids only for you to throw them under the bus.

9) Your complete refusal to update your Telos backers on anything besides announcing new projects that you were using to replace the projects you promised them. You could have gone on Patreon, Indiegogo, Twitter, or your channel, and explained things. Things like this happen. But instead you ghosted and gaslighted.

10) The shit you pulled about Nebula.

11) The shitsquillion dollars you spent on cameras you didn't need when you were also claiming to your patrons about being on the verge of homelessness.

"It's a documentary, no opinion just cited facts." James, you've cited "facts" like "15% of the Hitler Youth counselors were gay", "Radcliffe Hall didn't get punished for writing a book about lesbians", and "there was no fight against employment discrimination" as "facts."

Then there's the part where you're still insisting that the people who told you that you can't make a short film on 3K were wrong. You insist it's possible because you intended to use non-union labor. then two minutes later you admit a movie you put together ended up going way over-budget because you didn't realize how much things would cost.

So the Telos nay-sayers had a point, James. Why are you still acting like they were wrong. Do you just not want anyone to find Dan Olsen's tweets about your finances?

The fact that you think you have any business coming back when all you've ever managed are lies and theft is so hilariously conceited. I get it. You want to be able to "carry on with your happy little life" (the way Radcliffe Hall DIDN'T). You want to go back to being a big youtuber and for everyone to admire you once you manage to go a whole video without stealing from anyone. That's not how this works. You have no credibility. You have caused a huge amount of damage not just to your immediate audience, but also the queer community overall.

You hurt a lot more people than Jessie Gender, James.

"We weren't trying to lie about things." BULL FUCKING SHIT. YOU NOT ONLY LIED ABOUT BECKY ALBERTALLI MULTIPLE TIMES. YOU EVEN MADE AN INDIRECT DIG AT HER SO YOUR AUDIENCE WOULD ASK ABOUT IT SO YOU COULD LIE ABOUT YOUR INTERACTIONS WITH HER AS WELL. YOU LIED ABOUT WHO ACTUALLY WROTE YOUR VIDEOS. YOU LIED ABOUT YOUR CREDITS. YOU LIED ON PURPOSE. AND YOU LIED IN WAYS THAT HURT PEOPLE.

You also lie in your video saying "in the beginning, I thought it was enough to put people's names in the opening credits." No you didn't. You started using those opening credits well after the accusations came rolling in. You even admitted on twitter that in the beginning you weren't "citing my sources yet."

Do I believe much of your bullshit was pure laziness? Certainly. But there can be more than one reason for it. There's no way you knew who Radcliffe Hall was and actually thought she face no repercussions. No one who has ever heard of The Well of Loneliness DOESN'T know all the prints were destroyed. It being a lesbian book that was destroyed by the courts is THE STORY.

You lied when you said you didn't call Becky Albertalli straight. EVEN THOUGH YOU ADMIT TO PUTTING HER IN THE STRAIGHT CATEGORY.

You lied about your "adaptation" of Evil Queens and tinker Bells and the citation and schedule of when you got approval. You got approval after the fact and claiming you got it from the beginning. your own email screenshot proves it.

You lied saying the Evil Queens video was "a direct adaptation of the books" despite half the video being plagiarized from completely different works. You lied about your plagiarism accusations and HBomb's video rehashing old "debunked" accusations on Patreon. You lied about Alexander Avila. You lied about reading/watching a bunch of the media you were "critiquing." you lied about when you started with your opening credits.

These were ALL LIES YOU TOLD ON PURPOSE.

You don't "research", "write", shoot, edit, and post a video with shit like that in it and say it wasn't malicious or intentional. You put these videos out there with scores of lies, many of which were directed at various marginalized groups, and CHOSE to never check if anything you said was true. You don't invent entire fake moral panics "by accident." You don't plagiarize by accident.

Please don't spend forty minutes reciting excuses and then claim "these are not excuses." You're not fooling us.

Also - Leave your poor mother out of this. She already had to die of cancer. Let the poor woman rest.

But thank you for linking your new patreon and telling us all about your upcoming videos! I am glad you have your priorities straight. (that was sarcasm)

Just leave the internet, James. Not LIFE, OBVIOUSLY. Stay alive. But your time as a content creator is done. You have no viability in that area. The fact that you think you can just do this is equal parts entitled and delusional. That you think you can come back so soon makes it even worse. Tell you what: you can try again after it's verified that the people you stole from have been compensated and you properly apologize for everything else.

I will not believe you're truly sorry until you can actually apologize without caveats, excuses, and, yes, lies. Saying you're sorry for "not citing things correctly" is not apologizing for what you did. It's cushioning the actual facts and downplaying your transgression. You have not apologized for the misogyny, acephobia, or transphobia, which, yes, YOU DID. I don't care if you want to claim it wasn't intentional YOU STILL DID IT. You haven't apologized for harassing and slandering your critics.

So no, James, I don't really believe you're sorry. I think you're sorry this blew up and that you have to make a new patreon. I don't trust that you won't continue being misogynistic. I don't trust that if you ever see this comment, that you will actually read it instead of crying homophobia and cancel culture and "wanting you dead."

Admit that you harassed people and that it was awful. Admit the extent. Admit you lied about Becky Albertalli and apologize to her. Admit that, yes, YOU HAVE SOME REAL ISSUES WITH WOMEN and that you are ready to confront them.

I don't trust you to do the right thing here. But maybe this comment will be read by someone who might have otherwise fallen for this and it'll be easier for them to see through manipulation like this in the future.

Just log off, Bro.

[sanccharine]

16 | lesson plan

hogwarts au

pairing: hufflepuff!tzuyu x slytherin!reader  genre: fluff, slice of life  word count: 3.2k

warnings: brief mention of bad parents

summary: whether on the field or during class, you never shied away from trouble. and in your sixth year, trouble seemed to follow you like a shadow, though you couldn’t complain. especially when that series of misfortunes led you to the transfiguration prodigy, chou tzuyu. includes: red velvet’s yeri, ateez’s san, yeosang and wooyoung, txt’s yeonjun

status: ongoing a/n: there are probably many mistakes, rip <3 also think i posted for hufflepuff!tzu like... seven months ago. yes, you can insert clown music here.

masterlist | chapter 15 | chapter 17

“What?” Tzuyu looked at you like you’d grown a second head. 

“Teach me Transfiguration!” you said, grinning as the idea formed in your mind. It wasn’t too bad, you didn't think so at least. “Be my tutor.” 

When Tzuyu just stared at you in silence, you tacked on. “Please,” you offered your best smile. 

Tzuyu stilled. Her mouth opened, a vague sound escaped, and then she closed it again. She was speechless. Did you say something wrong? You don’t think you did. Maybe she wasn’t interested… but she had offered. 

In your head that request made the most sense. You wanted to get better at Transfiguration. You wanted to study with her in the library again. You wanted to spend more time with her. And she’s offered before, not this explicitly, but her offer to help was always open, at least for you. So you were taking it—taking the chance. 

Trying your hardest not to frown, you prepared yourself for rejection. Of course, just because she’d offered at a previous point in time, doesn’t mean she’d still offer now. 

You hugged the Transfiguration textbook closer when you asked again. “I want you to help me get better at Transfiguration,” you said, confident but a bit more somber. You wanted to express that you were being genuine. And then added again, “Please.” 

Tzuyu blinked once, owlishly. Then again. 

“Okay,” she bit her lower lip, eyes shifting to the textbook in your hands before glancing up at you. “I’ll do it.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, trying to bite down the grin. Tzuyu only hummed in response. 

For a moment the pair of you just observed the other. The light glimmering in her eyes was so obvious, and if you were brave, you’d like to imagine it was because of you. The corner of her lips twitched up and down, and you wanted to call her out. Tell her she didn’t have to hold back her smile just like you were trying to, but instead you opted to just watch her. Deciding it was better to jump around in your mind, than stupidly in front of her. 

Abruptly, Tzuyu cleared her throat. She looked down for a moment, and when she looked back up again, her usual mask was on. Though not that it helped your own grin. Because you knew behind that mask, she was feeling somewhat giddy as you did. 

“Class?” Tzuyu pointed to the entrance, her hand still gripping the strap of her bag. It was a gift how well she was able to control her expressions. “We’re late.”

“Oh, right, of course,” you shook away the smirk that was itching to spread on your face. Stepping to the side in a bow, you extended your hand in an exaggerated manner. “Prefects first.” 

Tzuyu hummed, rolling her eyes at your act. But you didn’t miss the smile on her lips when you looked up at her. 

When the pair of you walked in, the class fell silent. You didn’t see what Tzuyu was doing in front of you, but you did catch Yeosang throwing her a thumbs-up. Unlike her, you didn’t want to reconvene with your friends, they’ve probably guessed how detention went from the expression on your face. And you’d like to avoid the teasing as long as you could. You did, however, glance at Lee, but she didn’t really let any expression past her. Though, there was a small twitch of her lips in greeting. Lastly, you looked at Yeosang, just before taking your seat next to him. He gave you a little wave, before showing the textbook page you needed to be on. 

Once Lee noticed you and Tzuyu had settled, she resumed her class and turned her back to you to write something on the board. That instant, something struck the back of your head. You lurched forward, patting the back of your head, before noting the crumpled piece of parchment by your feet. 

Fortunately, for you, you quickly picked up the parchment and flattened the paper while Lee was still focused ahead. Unfortunately, for your friends, both Yeosang and Tzuyu turned to face them. The scorn of Yeosang’s face was scathing, it was truly fascinating how such a pretty face could contort into such an ugly sneer. Coughing into your sleeve, you hid your snort. 

But holding back your laughter proved to be more difficult when you turned to the back of the class. Wooyoung was waving his hand as wildly as one could and then gestured as if writing a note. San was trying to pull him to his seat, afraid Lee would turn at any second. 

How did detention go? was written in Wooyoung’s hurried scrawl. 

You turned to him and he was signing with two thumbs-up followed right by two thumbs-down. Seeing as you’d be getting more notes to your head until you answered him, you offered a smile with a singular thumbs-up. 

Excited about the detention, you missed how San stiffened next to Wooyoung. 

“L/N, care to explain what you are doing?” 

You couldn’t be serious.

“Detention, really? Come on, Professor,” you groaned, remaining back with Lee. 

“You were passing notes—”

“I was getting notes—”

“You were disrupting my class—”

“Oh, come on,” you said again, throwing up your arms. 

“That will be detention, again,” she continued before you could interrupt her again. “Library duty, same time next week.” 

“Oh. I…” you straightened, contemplating the detention. It was more time with Tzuyu. You nodded. “Yeah, I can do library duty—”

“I was not asking,” you give her a deadpan look to match her own. “Also,” she pulled out a piece of parchment from her drawers. “I have your next assignment.” 

You raised your eyebrows and took the parchment from her. Quickly skimming over the assignment, you furrowed your eyebrows together. You recognized the question.

“Yes, that is the same question you left blank in your O.W.Ls. I’m glad you remember it.” 

Frowning, you caught her gaze again. When Lee met your stare with a steely look, you don’t doubt you have something akin to a glare on your face. Though, if Lee was irritated by the disrespect she didn’t care to show it. 

“Why—”

“Because I know you’ve improved—”

“Why did you take me into your class?” 

You ask the question again. The one you’ve been thinking of since you received the letter that you got into N.E.W.T level Transfiguration. 

As if Lee knew you had more to say, she stayed quiet.

“I know I didn’t meet your requirements, so why would you make an exception?” you ask, with a sigh. “And don’t say something stupid and vague like potential, Professor.” 

If anyone knew how to disrespect a teacher, it was you. 

But if anyone knew how to take your insolence without being perturbed, it was Lee. 

Her eyes only shifted slightly, a deadly glint over her glasses as she steepled her fingers in front of her face. 

“I didn’t make an exception—”

“Bullshit,” you rolled your eyes. Lee looked neither appalled nor admonished you for your language. She kept watching you, like you were an explosion she was waiting to go off soon. 

Then, she turned to her left, looking at the empty space in her desk and uttered a conjuring spell. Within seconds, a spotted frog appeared out of thin air. Lee jutted her chin at the frog, the animal blinking at you like you were its owner. 

“Cast a vanishing spell.” It was an order. 

Unnerved, but still obedient, you pulled out your wand and pointed at the frog. With one simple move of your hand, you said, “Evanesco.”

Just like the frog had appeared, it had vanished.

Raising your brows, you nodded to yourself. It was a clean spell. You looked at your wand, appraising it, surprised that it cast the spell so well. Perhaps, you’re not so hopeless. You turned to Lee, expectant and confused all the same. Will she be grading this or something? 

“Now, tell me the theory behind that spell.” 

Your mind went blank. 

Lee raised a single eyebrow, waiting for your answer, but you had none. 

“Vanishing is one of four branches of Transfiguration… ?” you trailed off when you heard yourself. Even to your own ears, you didn’t seem confident in the statement. Lee fixed you with an unimpressed glare but she sighed. 

“Do you remember how you learnt it?” Lee asked but you just shrugged. 

“You taught it to us last year,” you said, unceremonious but Lee just shook her head. “You taught it to us in fourth year?”

You weren’t sure what exactly she was fishing for until she pursed her lips, clearly unhappy with your answers. But it was clear, you weren’t leaving anytime soon. 

Thinking back to a year even further back, it finally clicked. Third year had been very strange for you. With somewhat of a rebellious streak, running in and out of detentions and with the threat of being pulled out from Hogwarts altogether, it had been a blur of a year. 

The only thing that was clear as day was that Lee did not let you out of her sight. To you, at the time, it was her way of controlling you. Admonishing you. Your parents were on your back. Lee was on your back. Everyone, all at the same time, looked at you as if you were a ticking bomb. 

Lee found any and all reason to have you benched in her office, detention after detention. If Slytherin weren’t so good at Quidditch, you wouldn’t be surprised if your detentions alone lost your house the House Cup. Not that it did, of course. 

While those detentions had mostly been a waste of your time, if you were to look further, there were also Lee’s students. The prodigies and the favourites and the ambitious, at her office between classes to improve their learning in Transfiguration. And in those detentions, you’d see older students attempt a varying range of spells, again, and again, and again. 

Vanishing spell, being one of them. Purely out of boredom, you often attempted to copy older students, granted you were never successful, and you’d land another detention from Lee if she caught you. But you’d seen so many spells, so many attempts, that by the time you’d officially been introduced to the spell during the next year, the basics of casting it had been ingrained into your brain. 

Maybe you had an inkling of what Lee was trying to say…

“I got lucky—”

“Try again.” Lee said, and you frowned. 

“I practiced.” You admitted, finally. “I watched your fifth-years fail again and again, and learnt from their mistakes.”

In fact, looking back that’s how you’d gained many of your spells. Vicariously. 

You’d always assumed casting spells, especially with a wand, came a little naturally to you because of your parents. You are a pureblood after all. But it was never the case. You’d learnt it like you learnt Quidditch. Watching others cast and watching others play. You never understood why it works or how it works, you just know that it works exactly this way. And then you practice, mimicking every move with an almost clinical precision until it worked, until it was second nature.

When Lee had chosen you to attempt that specific spell in front of the class, you’d cursed her in your mind. Thinking she was doing it to spite you, embarrass you in front of your betters, prove that you could not do well in Transfiguration. Just like your parents had told you. Just like you believed it to be. 

Such foolish, childish thoughts, but you thought them to be true. Of course, your own doubts had blown up in your face. The frog you were asked to vanish, sputtered and floundered when you miscast. Lee only frowned and asked you to take your seat again. You glared through the rest of the class, deciding not to pick up your wand again for that lesson.

“You were one of the few handful of students who successfully cast the vanishing spell during your O.W.Ls,” Lee said, taking off her glasses to wipe them. Her words cut off your memory of your failure. But you could barely remember the exam where you cast the spell correctly. “It was that practical that gave you the marks to enter my N.E.W.Ts class.” 

You shrug, about to counter her. 

“Maybe when you stop labelling yourself as stupid or a failure, you will actually see the potential everyone else sees in you,” Lee sighed, pushing back her glasses. “Again, I don’t take charity cases. I’m not that kind.”

You knew that much. 

“I know you’re trying harder than ever this year, and I commend that… but the journey will be easier if you just let yourself breathe a little,” the urge to bite back, to be defensive was difficult to swallow down, but you managed to keep your mouth shut. “It is not easy—it won’t be easy, but you are not the hopeless case as you believe yourself to be.”

Professor Lee paused, a brief flicker of hesitation caught on her usually confident mask. Then, she sighed out. 

“Like your parents believe you to be.”

It was as if someone had pulled you taut by puppet strings attached to your spine, forcing you to stand upright. Your muscles were so tense that you couldn’t even curl your fingers into fists. Lee frowned at your reaction, minute as it was, at the mention of your parents. 

 “It would do you good to remember that,” Lee offered in a kinder tone than you’ve ever heard her speak. “Please,” she emphasised the word, “remember that.” 

After a few moments of silence to let her words sink in, Lee sighed once more. 

“On top of your extra assignments, I want you in my classes with the lower years any time you are free. At the minimum of twice a week, teaching others will help you relearn the basics. You clearly have no talent for note-taking and completing your readings,” it's a skill how she lifts you and puts you down within a minute, one she has mastered. “But on top of relearning the basics, teaching your juniors will show you what you know, even when you think you don’t know anything.” 

Lee finished and looked at you, pointed.

“Is that understood?” 

You nodded wordlessly. 

“Alright, let the first-years in, and don’t take up anymore of their time,” Lee said with finality and got up to write something on the board. 

Dismissed, you turned and left. 

Like Lee had asked, you left her classroom without holding back her class. But of course not without a quick fist bump to both Minwoo and Jooyeon. Some other first-years just stared strangely at you, and for the fun of it, you extended your hand to them too. You couldn’t help but chuckle when some reciprocated. 

The rest of your day went better than expected. 

Attending classes felt lighter now that you’ve sorted out everything with Tzuyu. If you weren’t seated with your friends, then you were tailing Yeosang and Tzuyu. You were reintroduced to some of their other friends, technically you should know their names. However, you didn’t, but you were making an effort this time around.

During the lunch break, you updated your friends on the full story of the detention, not sparing as single detail. Not even how you’d asked Tzuyu to tutor you. While teasing was your friends’ way of showing affection, you appreciated the way they listened until you finished. San and Yeonjun sung you praises, the latter slowly leaning into teasing with every new sentence. Though you weren't too fussed, not when Yeri only shared a proud smile. Words didn’t need to be shared between the pair of you.

“Practice tonight?” she asked as she got up to get to her class. 

“Lake side?” you asked, finishing up your lunch. Yeri just nodded. “Yeah, let's try the new play?”

Yeri nodded again as she ruffled Yeonjun’s perfectly slicked-back hair before leaving the hall. 

Classes after lunch went without much fanfare, for most of them you shadowed your friends. Every so often glancing at Tzuyu in hopes she was glancing back. And when you did catch her, she’d be wearing that suppressed smile of hers before she looked down to hide it altogether to look focused in class. The interaction feels something like sharing a secret. 

When your last lesson finished, you caught her just as she left the classroom. 

“So, Professor Chou, when is our first lesson?” you asked, tone lighter than usual as you fell in step with her.

“Eager?” she asked with a brow raised, while her lips did that thing again to suppress her smile.

“Sure, yeah,” you shrugged in answer, doing something of your own to not display just how eager you were. “Let’s keep the lessons consistent. How about our free period in the morning, every week? Does that work?” 

“I have detention that time for next week,” she said, with a slight downturn of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ll be joining you,” you said with a grin accompanied by a one-shoulder shrug. “Library duty again. Can’t wait.” 

“What did you do now?” Tzuyu asked with a deadpan stare and you didn’t have the energy to feign hurt. 

“Does it matter?” you chuckle, slightly shuffling to the side as a student hurried past you. “Let’s start from the week after, how about it?” 

For some reason, you wanted verbal confirmation from her. Wanted to hear that she was as eager to teach you as you were to learn from her. Even if it was only a fraction of what you felt. That feeling being the yearning for academic prowess, of course. Nothing to it more than teaching and learning.

“Yeah, that works for me,” Tzuyu nodded with a small smile as the pair of you made a turn. “Same place in the library?” 

Your grin widened in answer. The noise of students chattering increased as the both of you neared the great hall. Tzuyu mirrored your smile as you entered the hall but came to a stop at the entrance. While it was merely optional, the pair of you would separate here to head to your own house tables. Unfortunately, the tables were separated by Ravenclaw. 

“Perfect,” she fully turned to face you, her smile morphing into something a little more serious. Taking the hint, you turned to face her, with a semi-serious nod. “We should focus on casting non-verbally first. So let's start with simple spells.”

You blinked, momentarily pausing as Tzuyu continued to plot her lesson plan. Your own smile, slowly but surely, tilting downwards.

She was taking this far too seriously… or perhaps, you should be taking it more seriously.

“Brush up on second-year and third-year spells,” Tzuyu paused for a moment, contemplating her own instruction but then nodded anyway. “Yes, brush up on those spells and we can start from there. We can work our way up. You’re an intuitive caster, but practice cleans you up. I don’t doubt you’ll master non-verbal casting.” 

Homework and a character analysis from the get-go. 

What did you just sign yourself up for?

any feedback is much appreciated.

a/n: mind you 3k of this had already been written... it was just sitting there untouched IM SORRY ;-; hope you all have a good day/night <3

taglist: @someone-who-likes-broccoli @tatliegilim @nanabongos @pandafuriosa60 @eternallyghosting

send an ask to be added !

[kcscribbler]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @elodiah and @insomniaflarrow this week.

Not going to lie, I completely forgot I had this WIP partially sketched out in the form of a single scene. I also, unfortunately, forgot exactly where I was going with it, so.

Have some random dialogue, set vaguely in a post-S2 AU where the finale didn't happen and we got a whole season of fun episodes like we wanted.

“Be that as it may. It would do no harm for you to adopt a more cautious approach.” Mobius side-eyes him, but what might have been a sarcastic response seems to fade unspoken at the genuine worry visible in Loki’s troubled face. “Okay,” Mobius finally says with a sigh, as they pass under the archway leading to the outer corridors. “I can do that.” Loki clears his throat. “Thank you.” “But also, stop complaining. We’re burning through field teams like O.B. burns through circuit boards.” “I believe that is more a reflection on his unique methodology of, and I quote, ‘experimental live-action troubleshooting’ than accurate analysis of our field strategy.” “Yeah, well, the God of Time’s field strategy is getting us audited by Internal Affairs.”

Queueing this so sorry in advance for any duplicate tags, @justabigoldnerd @thewildballyntynesgrow @lokimobius @thosegayoldmen @impulsemuppet

@tealdropsworld @in-my-loki-feels @loki-is-my-kink-awakening @ghoulehhh @insert-witty-user-name-here

[sirenmoth]

Unrequited

Any COD Man insert x GN!reader

CW: ANGST, hurt/no comfort, mentions of cheating, emotionally unavailable relantionships, military men like to move fast, and yes that is a red flag

It was hard, you knew it would be when you first accepted to date him after only seeing each other for a few weeks, you agreed to let yourself be his. You agreed to long months, sometimes a whole year or more, alone, to the nights tossing and turning, sleepless, in a bed that felt too big. To the tossing and turning from him, sleepless, when the horrors of the battlefield followed him home, of war and what he witnessed out there, tormenting his every unconscious thought. Getting used to the calm and peacful life, a domestic life, away from the bloodshed and death, the pain and the stress, was difficult and you never clamied to understand his stuggles, his pain.

You were complacent, understandably so, hoping to be his rock for when he retured, hoping he could relay on you the same way you relay on him. You knew what he did for work, what he begrudgingly told you at least, he told you of the enemies he's made who would any and everything in their power to hurt him, even if it meant using you to get it. So you stayed quite, never asked for anything extreme, never complained about him missing a date or judged when he forgot your birthday. He never talked to you about how he was feeling, his life, what little he mentioned of his job was vague and short, asking how a misson went got you even vaguer and shorter answers, so you never pushed.

You tried, oh how you tried, for so long you tried to save this inevitably sinking ship, but as the weeks turned to months, months turned to years. You couldn't take it, not anymore, you felt used, unloved, unappreciated.

Were you only here to keep his bed warm when he got home?

Did he have someone else for that? Military men are known for being cheaters, visiting bars and brothels, local clubs and barracks bunnies while having loved ones at home begging for a nice date out or just to spend some time with them. You've read the stories and heard the tales, a lonely lover at home while their other half gives everything up for a few moments of pleasure while away in a differnet country halfway around the world, how it tears families apart.

You didn't want to be another victim in the sea of statistics.

Was he cheating? You never saw him as the type. Yes, you had to beg sometimes to spend time with him or ask him several times to take you out on a nice date, but he never seemed the cheating type. That was until you began to notice the small things, his late night arrivals home from the bars, the scent of cheap body mist, the constant outings with co-workers and friends he would use as excuses for missing the plans you made for each other.

You met them once, his friends, they didn't pay you much mind, a small hello before ignoring you, so you sat at the far end of the booth of some random pub, watching as your man was practically eye-fucking some random bar patron.

You brought up the idea of having a child once, or a pet, something to fill the empty silence, make things feel less lonely, he got mad at you for it, shouting that you were being desperate, needy, deemanding after everything he does for you. You argued back that he hasn't done a single, damn, thing for you, that he's never here, he missed your friends wedding, your new job promotion, your mothers funeral, he's missed so much it was like living with a stranger.

But bringing a child into this life wouldn't fix anything, fix yours or his mistakes, you didn't want that for them. Bringing a child into a broken home wouldn't fix it, a child staying up late at night, wide awake, questioning 'when's daddy coming home?', questioning if he's even coming home alive. You didn't want them to suffer for the chocies you made, for the man for chose to love.

The stress of this life, the constant moving and them having to be the new kid every few years, never living in a permentant home, never having permentant friends, getting asked if their daddy was coming to a school event or their birthday, knowing full well he wasn't, getting asked if they even have a dad, would forver traumaties them, forever scar them.

That was it for you, the last straw.

Tired, that's all you could feel was tired. Tired of asking to be taken out on a small, simple date, one where he was actually attending, asking if he thought you looked nice, asking to be loved.

Tired of him asking you things he should know, when are you getting that job promotion, when's your friend getting married, when's your mother visiting.

You waited until he was sent away to leave, you packed up your things, was there anything of his even here? He spent so much time away or at the barracks on base or in his office, you had gotten used to the cold, empty feeling the house brought, the house you hoped the two of you would call home. Room by room, you packed, taking everything that was yours, leaving nothing behind to remember you by.

Would he even notice you're gone?

You left a few detailed letters, placing it in a location you know where he would see it. The letters detailed everything, your thoughts, your feelings, your concerns and worries, how and were everything went wrong, on your part and on his, how you left like second place to his job and his potentially other partners and lovers. How you tried so hard to make it work, how your tried to be patient hoping he would come around and open up, how you cried on those nights alone in the bed you both once shared, alone in a bed that didn't feel right.

Explained how he didn't do right by you, nor you to him. Explained that you hoped over time things would settle and that you wouldn't have to ask for the bare minimum, but it never happened, nothing changed. How you tried to fix the unfixable while he never bothered to try at all, there was no happy ending or bright future for both of you, you have come to accept that now. It was never meant to be between you two, but you hoped he found someone, someone who could give he him want you couldn't, love him like you could never. Someone who gave him everything and was the complete opposite of you.

You'd be long gone by the time he arrived hom from his deployment, with the extra time he'd spend out drinking or on base, you'd be in a new home with a new job position, a brand new life you built for youself, a brand new life to heal.

Maybe it was the wrong time, maybe you both should've met sooner, or later, maybe this all could've been avoided.

Maybe it was never meant to be.

You don't know if he tried calling or texting, tried reaching out to fix thing after it was already long broken beyond repair, you made sure he couldn't find you as best you could, wanting to leave that chapter of you life, that chapter of sorrow, behind. You wanted to move on.

Has he moved on?

Has he already forgotten you? Did he even care or did he just go bury himself deep inside someone else?

You met someone a few months after leaving, a kind man who took you out on dates without you needing to ask, told you look nice, beautiful, gorgeous. A kind man who went to you friend's wedding, your work parties, accompanied you when you visited your mothers grave. He is everything you could ask for and more.

A warm, bright smile spread across your face, so big it hurt. When was the last time you smiled like this? He took you out on a date, a bar to celebrate your new promotion to a higher branch, he told you how proud he is of you. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company like nothing else in the world mattered.

Both of you blissfully unaware of a certain militray man looking you across the bar with his friends, a look in his eyes like his world was burning down around him, as he watched the two of you, like he lost the most valuable and precious thing in the world.

But that was lost when you left him, leaving nothing those letters behind. It was lost when he didn't fight for you, when he didn't treat you right.

It was lost when you said enough was enough. He never tried, he put his work first, put his own selfish desires and needs before yours. He was never there, he was always with on a job or with someone else, he was never there to love you, to cherish you, he was never there when you needed him but you alwasy made sure you were there when he needed you.

And he lost you because of it.

Now he's watching you from across a bar, his friend drunkly chatting but he's not listening, he's watching you get everything you ever wanted, everything he never gave you gettting given to you by a different man. A better man.

A man who he will never be.

[maraudereestauderelb]

What are the Chances I (Troy Otto)

Some more writing I found somewhere in the depths of my drafts and figured, I might as well put it out there...

Let me know if you like it and if you want to be tagged in future parts!

Masterlist

"I'm so hungry, Y/N!", Leona whined on the passenger seat and added: "And thristy! What did you say? How many days can a human live without water?" 

They had run out of water supplies the day before and currently they were running very low on gas as well. "You still got enough power to complain so you're good." 

They had only started their drive towards the Mexican border four days ago. It had been a week since society had collapsed completely. Back in the area close to Los Angeles they had tried to collect as many supplies as they could and had stuffed all of them into Leona's old Jeep. Besides supplies they had been on the hunt for weapons. Neither of them had any experience with them but so far, they had somehow managed to protect themselves against the undead.  

They were careful. Very careful. The living being more of a potential threat than the dead.  

"Maybe you can check the map again? I think we should be close", Y/N asked her friend and pointed at the glovebox. Back at an abandoned rest stop they had found a map of the area they were heading for. 

When things had turned bad in Los Angeles they quickly had decided that trying to get back to their hometowns across the US was a stupid idea. They had no idea how things were over there, neither did they believe they'd get this far on their own. They actually were quite surprised they had gotten this far in the first place.  

Luckily the younger one of them had a thing for crazy conspiracy theories and just happened to stumble across a commercial of an elderly man advertising some sort of survival buckets and his ranch where they were preparing for the fall of society, when she had been watching one of these rather questionable tv channels in the middle of the night. And also, she was lucky enough to remember at least vaguely remember where said ranch was. And that was exactly where they were heading. 

When Leona was trying to locate them on their map Y/N suddenly saw a truck standing on the side of the street they were driving on. Really, she didn't want to stop right here in the middle of nowhere, somewhere in New Mexico, but a gaze at the fuel gage told her she had to at least try and find out if the Militia truck had some gas left, they could use for themselves.  

"What are you doing?", Leona asked surprised when her friend slowed the car down. "Might get us some gas", she answered.  

"You think this is a good idea? I don't think this truck's going to help you? Either someone left it here because it ran out of gas or I bet the person who drove it is still close." "I know", she sighed: "But I think we'll have to risk it or we'll soon have to walk." 

Y/N slowed down the Jeep and checked if anyone was sitting in the Truck before she got out of the car, carrying a hose and a small revolver, which she stuffed in her back pocket. 

It was silent and nobody seemed to be close. Neither living nor dead. Now all there was left to hope for was that the Truck had some gas.  

She had just inserted the hose all the way in the Truck when she suddenly heard steps behind her on the dry ground and Leona's high-pitched voice from the Jeep by her side: "Watch out!" 

With her heartbeat immediately pumping fast she turned around and pulled out the revolver. The young woman pointed her gun right at the two men, who were both wearing military uniforms. Her hands were shaking. 

"One step closer and I'll shoot!" 

They definitely were armed but instead of raising their rifles at her or trying to subdue her, they both raised their hands. 

"We're not doing anything, okay? Just put that gun down."  

But instead of that Leona now slipped out of the car, carrying a gun as well.  

"What do you want?", Y/N asked and tried her best not to shit her pants. 

"I'm Troy and this is Mike and we simply don't want you to steal all of our gas." 

"Well, but we'll take it anyway." "No, you won't", Troy said again seriously. "And how are you going to prevent that?", Y/N wanted to know and pointed her gun straight at him.  

"You've never used one of these things have you?", Troy laughed amused but although the two girls must have seemed like they had no clue what they were doing, Mike obviously wasn't as relaxed as his friend. "Man, I think we shouldn't test them." 

"We'll...uh we won't take all of it. So you can still get away from here", Leona offered stuttering. 

"I have a better idea", Mike said calmly: "You two take these things down and we'll take you with us." "With you?! Hell no!", Y/N took a step forward which didn't seem to scare Troy at all.  

"Nonono!", Mike said quickly: "Not what you think! I promise! We're living on a ranch. We're building something there. You'd be save. Let us help you." 

It wasn't hard to see that Troy wasn't too keen on that but really caught Y/N's attention. 

"Broke Jaw Ranch?", Leona asked with big eyes and hope in her voice and lowered her gun. "Why are you asking", Troy wanted to know curiously so Y/N answered lowering her gun as well: "Because that's exactly where we're heading." 

Part II

[cosmicmenacee]

"I don't like it when writers do this!" A probably useless rant by Coz

Hey yall! I've been seeing some stuff simmering to the surface (ooh alliteration) in the mcyt fandom (specifically in fanfiction) and i just wanna come out and say this

are you writing an au with one of these topics:

characters who are siblings (but not in canon)

characters who are crackshipped

huge polyships/everyone's a ship

ooc behaviors (especially when its explained via backstory)

little to no canon lore

crossovers w/ characters who have never interacted

anything that isn't considered "standard"

if so, then here's some advice from someone who's also writing pretty much everything in that list:

If someone asks you why you made a writing choice with the intention of judging, say "I did it because I wanted to"

I mean, who can argue with that?

(MORE UNDER CUT!)

Now people could try and say that "Oh its not canon! But this is indirectly contributing to [insert vaguely related issue here]! Just make them OCs!" but what does that matter to anything if you just wanted to write it? To hell with the need for explanation, fanfiction authors aren't hired! Unless you're from the past and you're writing ye olde fan fiction for His Majesty King Henry in the hopes that you don't lose your head, you don't have to cater to anyone else with what you write.

If people don't like seeing two characters as siblings, or a lack of plot point xyz, then they don't have to read stuff with those criteria. There are some really popular fics and aus that I don't really like, but the way I get by is by not reading more of them and not criticizing them on tumblr.

Now, I know me saying this isn't gonna stop the masses from screaming into the void about how "this is bad! I don't like it!" (I mean, look at me; I'm about to lose my voice to the void from this post alone). I'm mostly trying to let other writers know that these people shouldn't pressure you against writing what you want to write. You have as much of a right to write what you want as they do to criticize what they dislike.

Trust me, I've written for others before. It's not fun.

At the end of the day, people are gonna not like things. We're humans, that's kinda our deal. Don't let someone's opinion on the internet get you down. Write and read whatever you want; there's always someone who will like what you do!

Addendum: I'm not hating on ppl who just say "I don't like this". That would be wildly hypocritical of me, someone who complains about things on an hourly basis. Everyone's allowed to be a hater. I just think that making judgements to a fan-creator's face, or claiming that something is problematic when it's just something you don't like reading is not classy. It's not EVIL, just not classy. (Especially that last part; not everything has to be about morals, but that's a topic for another rant ;D )

[aaxzlyte]

had a great and funny idea, courtesy of the plethora of DN ask blogs floating around – but i genuinely believe it'd be so funny if there was an AU where, post-Kira Nearlymellodramattic happened and, for some reason, the world was aware of the fact that Near and Mello were working as L (or rather that N & M were working as L) and Matt decided to have the bright idea of making a fucking Tumblr account

he frames himself as being N & M's partner and prompts people to ask him really invasive questions that he like... vaguely answers?? but Matt is also definitely partly lying or exaggerating everything he fucks says – also obviously nobody believes him lmfao

"you're dating the two halves of L and also help them in cases sometimes? yeah, right, buddy. keep dreaming!" and Matt is like "i dream about them every night while laying in between them while they cuddle me :3"

also i imagine Matt vague posting about them like "lol, me when the bitches won't stop bickering: *insert goofy ass meme image here*" – and Matt never actually openly complains about them ofc, but now the Internet has a weirdly personal, only somewhat accurate understanding of N & M's personalities which is more concerning

if you want to get bigger and better with this, Near and Mello definitely find out eventually and link Matt's account to actually BEING Matt, like for real – they sit him down at talk to him and he's like "guys :( you're hanging up on me, not cool" and anyway they both kiss him but also tell him he's stupid and he's like "they don't believe me anyway! no harm, no foul!"

um cus Mello and Near making their own Tumblrs and constantly flirting with Matt, 'pretending' to be N & M and Matt is like "guys, look! the famous detectives that make up L! my boyfriends!" and the entire platform just shakes their head like "these fucking weirdos roleplaying, what kind of weird kink is this???"

anyway there's my take on that...

[thethiefandtheairbender]

Sometimes in fandom — usually after a fandom has gone from near universal adoration within the fandom, and then had something happen (a season release, a ship goes or doesn't go canon, etc) where it's more broadly criticized — there'll be an according shift in how canon is widely discussed.

Before, where things only would've been discussed with enthusiasm and excitement, there becomes a distinct lack of... any of that without conditions or caveats at most intervals. 

It no longer becomes "I loved the this thing here's why!" but "Yeah the season had flaws but I liked some of it," or "You can ship this thing but you have to admit it has—" or "yeah it was interesting it just could've been written better." 

The criticism is constant and it is vague. It's assumptive. If there are explanations as to what is meant and why, it is once and often not based in wanting to understand why the text would also do XYZ thing. This is not necessarily 'bad' criticism (just personally, occasionally annoying, although it's not as though I've never participated in it myself), just sometimes underdeveloped. Nor is this vein of fandom criticism all fandom criticism by any means.

After all, sometimes fans complain with long winded specifically ad nauseam until the critique becomes so far removed from any spectre of reality, it's like they're watching a completely different show (this is the worst kind). Other times, even once the emotions have died down, people step back and write metas about how there was structural buildup but lack of payoff or how, even though is character may be acting in line with previous characterization, this specific situational response felt OOC for [inserted reasons here] (this is the best kind, because you can actually see where people are coming from, they're acknowledging the constraints/desires/intention of the and therefore working with the text, and you can sometimes change your mind or have a better understanding of what, alternatively, worked for you). 

The problem, I think, with assumptive criticism is that it assumes a viewpoint is universal... when it's really, inevitably, not. For example, in like the 10/11 fandoms I've heavily been in, MY critiques of the thing are Different than what others in the fandom(s) critique, and it is for those exact reasons that I do my best not to engage in assumptive critique.

Because that's the kind of critique where, although short, it can shut down conversation about what might be some people's favourite parts of canon into something that feels loaded, or pointedly contradictory/contrarian, instead of just... "I liked this thing and here's why" that just got to exist freely before critique became more mainstream in the space.

In a similar vein where proship spaces say "I don't have to give a disclaimer that I know a ship is 'problematic' when I make a ship post about them," assumptive fandom critique creates a similar catch 22. Cause I think we've all seen ships broadly labelled as problematic with wildly varying degrees of validity, and ones where we sat here like "It's not problematic at all???" Subjectivity means that sometimes "X thing is flawed and I like it anyway" isn't necessarily true; sometimes it means "I like X thing and don't really think it has flaws" which is also equally, subjectively, true.

Because if I like a thing, I don't have to offer caveats; I don't have to do anything, especially if coming from me they'd be untrue. That thing is not objectively flawed and I don't have to act like it. The things that are flaws to you are oftentimes the things I like, that I think the story had good and/or interesting reasons for, or personally greatly enjoy, or are sometimes even the Best part of that story (to me). (Maybe some of the things I think are flaws are parts you like. That's awesome! All the power to you.)

If what I like in canon aligns with what the creators seemingly enjoyed or were trying to go for in canon, that just means that I'm more in alignment with the text, and 'correct' in ways we usually associate with correctness, but not all by any means (not necessarily intelligence, for ex, the same way critiquing a text in a negative way also doesn't say anything about intelligence).

I ship all the ATLA canon ships and I think they're good, and important, and interesting; I like the EIP conflict for Kataang, and I don't think I'd ship them half as hard without it / is one of my favourite pieces of characterization for Katara and her internal worldview(s). I like all the seasons of TDP's second arc, especially S4 (one of my faves) and including S7. I don't like the main ship that JWCC went for (they're even kind of a notp) and it bogged down early S4 for me, but with S5 in mind I think it was a smart, interesting choice even if it's not my personal preference (personality wise for the characters due to their similarities in mindsets and drastic differently long term goals), and I think the execution could've been eased further in, but those are nitpicks. That doesn't mean it's Bad.

A story doesn't have to align with all my preferences to be good; the story just has to align with itself, and I can be along for the ride. And if I'm no longer down to be along for the ride, I'm going to be specific as hell about why while still acknowledging all the (probably good) reasons the show did those things Anyway, because that's where criticism intersects most strongly with critical thinking, tbh.

[muttering-folklore]

more quasi hcs especially for @beezybubbybones bc they requested them and i have Thoughts. eat up

Would have freckles EVERYWHERE if he went outside in the sun regularly. Like I’m talking everywhere. All on his face and arms and back etc. He has his first proper summer outside and his cheeks and nose are just absolutely smattered with them.

He’s also ginger so I will unfortunately cast He Gets Sunburnt Disease on him. Sorgy. He stays out in the sun too long and js looks like 🍅. No regrets tho.

Since he hasn’t interacted with many people other than Frollo over the years he isn’t very sure if something is a Normal Social Thing or just something that Frollo did with him. Often carries out actions or behaviours that Frollo expected from him with other people that have no idea what he’s doing. Like referring to people exclusively by honorifics even if the situation doesn’t call for it etc. Comes across as overly formal because of it. Similar to how I refer to Duke from re8 as like Mr The Duke. Like it’s unnecessarily over the top.

He probably had to guess what the other angles of the houses and buildings he carved looked like (because it’s tricky to see them from above/he couldn’t see the far facing sides etc) so when he was accepted into the town and able to sort of roam on his own the very first thing he did was visit those buildings, make mental notes and then go back in his belltower to recharge from his trip outside and to frantically repaint and recarve everything if he got it wrong 😭

Probably has issues with feeling like he needs ‘permission’ to do things due to Frollo being so controlling, and therefore asks people for permission to do things. Like he’ll ask Esmeralda if he can go out into the town one day on his own to do something and she’s like “??? i’m not your boss why are you asking me.” Eventually it gets to the point where they can just instinctually guess what he’s going to say before he even speaks a word & then they give him permission ahead of time. He breathes in deep abt to speak and someone speaks up like “Yes you are allowed to do *insert thing*” and he stands there kinda stunned before shuffling off to do it before they change their mind

Is easy to scare when it comes to people sneaking up on him from behind (because he can’t hear them approaching) but is weirdly unaffected by horror stories. Like the gang gather around a campfire after going out camping or whatever they do in medieval france and Clopin is spinning them some medieval version of Man Door Hand Hook Car Door and everyone is shaking in their boots as Quasi is sat there like. Is that IT? like ur absolutely terrified of THAT? are u kidding?

Uses Marie as a default name similar to how people will spit out something along the lines of like Bob/Joe/Bill whenever you ask them to name smth. That’s why 99% of his bells are named something Marie-adjacent

Read in a fic somewhere that he read nature poetry as a kid and imagined the outside world and I’m adopting that into my personal belief system.

This only applies to a Modern AU but. he’d point out bad CGI in movies. like constantly. It really ruins the immersion for him, so he just vaguely complains about it or say something like “hm that looks a bit odd” until other ppl agree or throw pillows at him slash tell him to shut up slash fill in the blank here

[obsidianpen]

Your opinion on f/m ship is sadly very common even among readers themselves. I got out this mentality after reading a lot of Hermione fanfics. In B&G Hermione comes off as an individual with independent and often conflicting beliefs and personality so it was really easy to detached myself from her and see her more as a character than a projection of myself. I’m just really surprised that it made you anxious writing her.

I grew up reading Bl in an environment where queer books are being published publicly/officially and from what I’m seeing people are more accepting nowadays. This isn’t really the kind of opinion you’re asking for but I think female writers writing mlm actually help the lgbt community. I’ve seen so many gay men and women write books and enjoy it openly now. Less censorship now too.

oh yeah. I do wonder why that is the case so much, and there’s probably a lot of reasons for it. In my case personally I know it had a lot to do with always comparing myself to other girls, caring almost solely about what made me ‘desirable’ and both doing anything to achieve that and feeling like I was competing with everyone around me… that constantly comparing and judging bled into books, too. I tend to judge FMCs much more harshly than MMCs, though I’ve grown aware of that and try to do better. (Didnt stop me from DNFing fourth wing though. I hated how violet was written 😂).

but yeah I see this in the fanfiction community a lot. If hermione is emotional and cries or whatever, people complain and think it’s annoying. If it’s Harry, he’s a sweet baby angel with valid feelings too good for this world. If Hermione is a bit too plain she’s ’basically a self-insert’ or a Mary Sue. But lord knows I’ve clicked on far too many stories where Harry is bland AF and no one seems to care. I’m speaking hugely vaguely ofc but I do think Hermione stories get hit a lot harder when she’s not written super in character; feels like readers will not only forgive but applaud an OOC extra sensitive/smoll/cutesy or, alternatively, crazy overpowered OOC Harry. Can’t help but think gender plays a massive role here.

and to your last point, I agree. I think any writer creating a thoughtful and well crafted story helps, regardless of whether or not they’re a man or woman or whatever. The ‘well crafted’ part being critical, of course. I once read a story that featured a f/f pairing and it was written by a man but I only found that out after I was halfway through the book because I kept stopping and thinking, this is so bad???? This has to have been written by a straight man who has no idea how women who were friends for years speak to each other???? Aaaaan I was right lol.

[fluffyprettykitty]

Spring Drabble Sleepover!!!

running from may 14th to may 19th

*time indicates when requests will be accepted, asks will be rolling through according to inspiration and time allowed!

Hello and welcome to me not having written anything since January???? Let's rectify this by celebrating a little as summer might have officially started but true summer doesn't start till late June here!

Onto the main thing now!

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What will you do is mix and match a character or several with one or several of the following categories provided. As usual, you know!

⋆ Polyamorous ships are always encouraged. No platonic or daughter! reader though.

⋆ Darker themes are welcomed at my discretion. Check my requests page for what I'm comfortable with.

⋆ Please only use a character from the ones already provided.

⋆ I will either turn them into blurbs or drabbles depending on my inspiration but you can suggest to me what it should be.

⋆ I will do female reader for smut prompts and gender-neutral for fluff prompts. All will be written vague and over 21.

⋆ You have to be strictly 18+ to participate.

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characters:

Sons of Anarchy: Chibs Telford, Juice Ortiz, Jax Teller

Star Wars: Cassian Andor, Poe Dameron

Marvel: Sam Wilson, Luke Cage, Jessica Jones, Billy Russo, Thor Odinson, Brock Rumlow, Layla El Faouly, Elektra Natchios, Bruce Banner, Marc Spector, Brunnhilde, Tony Stark, Natasha Romanoff, Joaquin Torres, Bucky Barnes

Triple Frontier: Benny Miller, Will Miller, Santiago Garcia

aus: bakery, book store, celebrity, detective, ghost, restaurant, porn star, tutor, maid, mechanic, mermaid, neighbour, stripper, werewolf, vampire.

kinks: breath play, cockwarming, phone sex, gloves, choking, strip tease, uniform/suit, titty fucking, dirty talk, sex toys, accidental stimulation, shower, sensory deprivation, somnophilia, lingerie, object insertion, lap dance, lactation, spanking, exhibitionism, handcuffs, clothes on, moresomes.

date ideas: day trip, road trip, library, museum, restaurant, camping, beach, drinks/bar, concert, walking, sightseeing, boat ride, dancing, spa, errands, shopping spree, cinema, coffee.

domestic situations: trying new recipes, painting nails, reading, cuddling, clothes shopping, packing for a trip, laundry, repairing things, changing bedsheets, ordering takeout, falling asleep, complaining about family, movie nights, doing dishes.

☆ Just combine as many as you want however you see fit! And of course, when it comes to domestic situations and date ideas you can think of other things or be more specific on one situation! ☆

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no pressure tagging: @that-sarcastic-writer @sunflowersteves @jen-with-a-pen @eulalielatibule @moonlight-prose @e-dubbc11 @soulores @targaryenvampireslayer

[jymwahuwu]

Today I'm thinking about reader inserts and the history of personal growth, love, desire… (Thinking in the prison of capitalism. When I'm bored, I think about a lot of things, and mutter a little long. Skip it if don't like it)

When I was a kid, I wrote Mary Sue fics and got laughed at. I learned to store those fantasies away and view them as shameful. The past history is not always visible. Then as I grew older, I started watching anime and manga, and followed the trend of watching BL. At that time, I got some loving experiences from Shipping. I cheer for other people's love and feel fulfilled. But vaguely, I thought of myself. What am I feeling? Do I want to be loved? My experience will be through other partners.

So, I searched for self-insert content on the Internet, and there was almost nothing. And I don’t know the term x reader. Occasionally speaking, people would be ashamed of it and laugh at people for wanting to see yourself in fandom, that it was a kind of Mary Sue. An unrealistic fantasy. I started to feel bored and irritable. Why is love about Shipping real, but Reader must be in a position of shame? That's also me, I need to be loved and seen. The illusion of equality, unfair treatment.

Then I started writing, quietly, without any platform to publish on. I wrote it in my docs and felt more satisfied than ever. I have no other readers, so I don’t need to modify my words, I just need to satisfy myself and make myself happy.

Haha, until I discovered tumblr >_< I realized there are so many people loving x reader content here.

(Speaking of which, is this why I love non-con content? Society is used to shaming people for their desires.)

To this day, people still complain that Y/N (reader inserted)’s personality is not like theirs, that they would never do that, and so on. I'm not denying the immersion issues, but what does complaining about "Y/N" sound like? Shame on a virtual "you". Even in dreams, people still cannot imagine that they could do anything else, that they could achieve more, that they could have any profession, that they could have moral imperfections, that they could have desires. What kind of "I" is reflected in fics?

Be more tolerant of yourself, love yourself, be proud of your desires, and be comfortable with them.

Born to love yourself.

[mxtxfanatic]

Book of the Week: Rebirth of the Malicious Empress of Military Lineage

Author: Qian Shan Cha Ke (千山茶客)

Genre: ancient setting, josei

Rating: M (very mature, dark themes but not too graphic of depictions)

My Synopsis: What happens when a girl gets tired of being nice and decides to go apeshit? You get Shen Miao, our adorable 30+ year-old protagonist recently stuffed back into her 14-year-old self and ready to eat the flesh and drink the blood of her enemies! Using this new lease on life, she’ll methodically and maliciously ruin every antagonist’s life using the tools in her versatile skillset, including: knowledge of the future, a psychological understanding of assholes, weaponized gender stereotypes, and men. And lest we forget our love interest, Xie Jing Xing: the boy/man (cause god forbid the author know how old anyone BUT Shen Miao is…) who thought he had it all figured out until he discovered that Shen Miao is a horny drunk. See just how far they’ll go to bathe in the blood of their enemies while keeping their loved ones safe in this very long but extremely satisfying novel.

My Actual Review: It’s so satisfying to see a previously downtrodden character scheme her way into a happy ending, and Shen Miao fucking deserves it. Some reviews that I’ve seen have claimed that the LI eventually takes over her revenge schemes, but I didn’t see it. They just partner up and she uses his manpower to do what she wants. There are also places where their separate goals intersect, so it just makes more sense for him to do the cleanup. The thing about Shen Miao is that she has no issues with letting others do the work for her, especially if it’s against people she wasn’t invested in putting work against to begin with. It’s the empress in her, I fear. As for the main pair as a couple, I loved their every interaction, and their descent into romance felt natural and gratifying. Greatest thing about this romance is the fact that it truly kicks off because Xie Jing Xing did not know to guard against horny drunk Shen Miao lmao!

The translation is pretty good outside of some clunky grammar, but once you train your eyes to glaze over the the five-millionth time the translator inserts directly into the story to complain about how often the LI is described as hot (unlike every other character, I guess???) as if this book is their early 2000s fanfic, it gets even better! Another thing that may or may not be here nor there is that this author is really weird with age consistency. Like, “MC is forever un-aging while everyone else ages 2 years every few months” weird. Shen Miao is forever 14 until the time skip in which she is forever 16, while Xie Jing Xing goes from “the same age as the students” to “17/18ish” to “vaguely in his 20s” during the same course of time where we literally never see Shen Miao acknowledge a birthday in any year. As for more serious content warnings, this story involves underage relationships (including non-explicit sex, marriage, and pregnancy), rape as a weapon, (assumed) incest between cousins, child abuse, and described but not explicitly shown torture. Though there are some humorous parts, this is not a lighthearted story. Read if you want something dark with an ultimate happy ending.

Translation: complete