#I know I should have posted about all these as I wrote them

[shastafirecracker]

maybe I should post here that I’ve been writing some fic again. writing Wildflowers obliterated me on some sort of cellular level but with the help of a new disastrous blonde fictional man I’ve managed to remember how to words.

so if you’re interested, I’ve staggered drunkenly over into the Star Wars: Rebels fandom, Kalluzeb flavor, where I have done mostly tropes and banter with a tiny soupçon of smut. all G or T ish rating except where indicated.

No Looking Back, outsider perspective on Kallus post-Atollon

Reek, Kallus reacting to Ezra’s typical comments about Zeb’s smell

Heat Stroke, Kallus and Zeb sparring accidentally thirst-traps the whole rebellion

Hoth Tub Date Night, (E) exactly what it says on the tin

It’s Not Regret, with Jacen’s 18th birthday coming up, Kallus reflects on where he was at that age

Throw Your Pennies Back, a 5+1 of each Spectre having the encounter that makes them accept Kallus as just a guy, and Zeb watching the adoption happen (longer than the others, ~20k)

[shuastar]

Hey,can you write something about scoups one night stand ?

a/n: tumblr deleted everything i wrote so now im starting from scratch!! sorry about the delay finals and all.... i hate quarter systems with a passion

tumblr runs on a system of reblogs!! reblog/like/comment!! i <3 interacting

warnings: mdni, rich!seungcheol (implied), rich!reader (implied), lawyer!reader, virgin!reader (implied, kinda), daddy kink, multiple orgasms (implied), innocence kink (kinda implied), NSFW, wrap it before you tap it!!! (even though seungcheol doesn't!!!)

one night stand!seungcheol swears he doesn't usually do this -- get so drunken off someone's scent that he needs them viciously. he swears he's not the type -- and he isn't. he prefers a longer relationship, with commitments and sensual sex -- bed frame rocking gently against the hardwood floor of his penthouse, curtains of the giant windows set on do not disturb, the soft glow of his "sexy" yellow lights glowing against your skin. he swears that's the reason -- the reason his hands start to sweat, just a bit, when you step closer.

one night stand!seungcheol doesn't know how this happened. you were his best friend's sister. his fucking best friend's sister. you were supposed to be young, naive, innocent, kind, anything but the woman he was seeing in front of his eyes. anything but the woman with the low-cut dress and the elegant updo and the gorgeous, gorgeous smile that adorned your lipstick-painted lips.

one night stand!seungcheol remembers when you would drag his (shit-faced) best friend into your small studio apartment, throwing him on the pull-out bed. he remembers standing in the doorway, cheeks dusted a light red (from the cold, he told himself). he remembers you in a old oversized k-pop t-shirt and a random guy's boxers (he couldn't think about that for too long, lest he completely lost his shit), hair pulled back in a messy bun with glasses crooked on the bridge of your nose. he remembers your tired smile and dark eyebags as you half-heartedly invited him to also stay the night with a dry laugh. "aren't you too drink to be driving?" you would ask. he would shake his head no. he only had two drinks. it was mingyu that was out after his 12th soju-vodka-cranberry juice shot. "i'm fine. how're you holding up?" he tried to act nonchalant as he spied the law textbooks sprawled on the floor, disrupted by mingyu's loud movements. you gestured to the room. "as good as it'll get, i guess. wish mingyu could stop forgetting his own keys and coming to my place," you grumbled. seungcheol didn't have the heart to tell you that he secretly stole mingyu's keys because this would be the only way he could see your gorgeous tired face.

one night stand!seungcheol is in denial. he doesn't have time for this shit. he hasn't gone on a proper date in two years because all the girls he meets can't top his own work. being a ceo isn't a walk in the park. he has calls to answer and papers to sign and money to donate. he can't keep up a real relationship because every time he goes on a date, the woman leaves in the first thirty minutes and after he comes back from a five minute work call, the only thing he sees is the back of someone's dress. so why does your smile make his throat close up all of a sudden?

one night stand!seungcheol twitches, almost unconsciously when your fingers graze his biceps. your soft laughter fills his ears and your dizzying perfume (creed eau de parfum) fills the rest of his senses deliciously. he could eat you up. (metaphorically, of course). When you look up from your phone and see him across from you, your eyes crinkle and your lips lift in a smile. you and your senior prosecutor position in some law firm (he should know from many times mingyu's mentioned it, but he was too busy scrolling through your instagram posts). you and your twinkling eyes, gazing up at him like you knew exactly what he was thinking.

one night stand!seungcheol feels like a virgin around you. he's had sex before, he swears. but his knees buckle when the first of your begs leave your lips. you beg. you beg. you beg with doe-eyes, filled with unshed tears of frustration. you beg with pouted lips and if he had any less self control, he would have already kissed it off of you. "pplease?" you whisper, hands wrapping around his broad shoulders. you lay your head against his chest and he can feel your hot breaths fan over his pecs. "seungcheol, please? for me?" you beg, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. you were seducing him. and it was not working. you were his best friend's sister.

one night stand!seungcheol can't help but pull away, for a split second. "y'know i can't," he groans, as he sees your teary eyes and pouty lips, lipstick smudged at the corners from your makeout session only minutes prior. "fuck, don't look at me like that, baby," he rasps, arms wrapping around your silken waist. his hands squeeze at your hips, before creeping upwards towards your dress's falling neckline. "why?" you whine, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. he feels hot -- even with his belt unbuckled, shirt unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up dangerously high. your warm body tempts him so much -- the way you press yourself against him, the way you whine against his skin, the way you grasp for his attention. such a virgin, is his first thought. his perverted dangerous thought.

one night stand!seungcheol has to give in. it's you, for gods sake. how can he say no when you're sucking blues and purples against his neck? your hand roams the expanse of his muscled back, a breathy moan here-and-there as he gropes and sucks on your breasts, now free from the confines of your corsetted bodice. he's so addicted. he doesn't even have enough control to stop his hips bucking up against your fleeting touch. your other hand trails down and down -- down his chest, abs, stopping at the straining tent in his business slacks. your soft touches that scatter around his throbbing cock because you don't know.

one night stand!seungcheol curls into you when you finally take him out of his pants. "fuck, just like that," he groans into your ear, as your fingers wrap around his red-tipped cock, tip dribbling pearl precum into your hands. both of your clothes sit discarded on the floor, and you lay your head against his leg as your hands work their magic on his jupming length. one hand rests gently on your head, the other fisting your white hotel room bed sheets with a foreign ferocity. he's never seen you as anythign else but innocent, pure, perfect. but now, the only thought that float around his mind are perverted and horribly dangerous -- breedable, fuckable, devourable.

one night stand!seungcheol has to stop you in the middle of the best handjob because he doesn't want to cum on your face in five minutes flat. "fuck. c'mere, baby," he mumbles, easily lifting you off of your knees and into his lap, placing you gently on his thighs. his hand brushes stray pieces of hair stuck to your face away. he needs to see you. see your expression, your eyes, your pretty face. "you good?" he asks, just in case. just in case you were in a drunken stupor -- cock drunken stupor. just in case you weren't on the same page. just in case- "oppa," you moan gently, hips canting into his. your bare pussy rubs up against his cock and his grip on your waist tightens exponentially. "seungcheol oppa," you gasp as the tip of his length pokes and probs against your puffy clit, hungry for attention. "please. please, please, please. need it. wan' it. been wanting it. ever since-" you cut yourself off with a gasp as two of seungcheol's fingers swipe against your messy core, dripping with want for him. all of him.

one night stand!seungcheol needs to forcefully hold himself back. he needs to, or else he's afraid he'll rip your pussy open, because his cock isn't even halfway in and there are tears falling from your precious eyes. he mentally slaps himself at the way his cock hardens even more at the sight. "y' okay?" he grunts, biceps straining, breath coming out in pants at the tight grip of your pussy. you won't let up. "hurts," you cry, burying your head into his arms. "won't fit, oppa. can't- how- too big," you gasp as he pushes just a little bit more in. he needs to because it feels like you're cutting off his circulation, makign his brain fuzzy and shit.

one night stand!seungcheol rolls his hips into your experimentally. he's not ready for the pornographic moan of pleasure that escapes your opened lips. you're gone. already. you're gone and he knows because there are tears lining your waterline, your kiss-bitten lips are parted ever-so-slightly, your nails scratch down his back desperately, and your legs shake from their purchase around his waist. "y/n, fuck. fuck, y' feel s'good. so g-good for me. just f'me, yeah?" he mumbles in your ear, like you can hear him through your own tumbling moans. every sharp thrust he gives you feels like you can feel his cock in your ribs. none of you toys could compare. if anything, as soon as you got home, every single one of them was going into the trash. seungcheol's deft fingers crawl in between your bodies and rub small circles against your clit. "ah!" your hips buck uncontrollably and seungcheol groans as his hands pin your tratorious hips to the bed. a shaky laugh escapes his throat. "feel good, baby? tha' feel good f'you?" his fingers rub again, and you feel tingly -- like something was building up in your body. you can't help but writhe in his grasp, nails streaking red down his back. "fuck! oh my- oh- holy- da-" you cut yourself off with a muffled shriek as seungcheol pounds into you, fingers furious on your deprieved bud. your tears finally fall. down and down your cheeks. "shit, shit, shit," you moan and gasp, toes curling at this foreign feeling of pleasure. if you knew sex was this good you would've hooked up sooner.

one night stand!seungcheol's hips falter at your next words. "fuck, daddy, fuck me," you moan, throwing your head back against the pillows and your back arching so sexy off the bed. his arms wrap around your waist almost automatically. his hips cant into yours like on autopliot and the only thing that falters is his breath. you moan out a few more profanities, daddy being one of them. he can't believe his ears. you. calling him daddy. the thought of it alone sends another rush of arousal to his cock. and apparently that proved to be the breaking point of him because he lets out his loudest moan, catching himself before he falls on top of you, hips loosing their rhythm as he chases his high. "oh my g-god," he gasps, hands cupping your jaw. you're no better. "wanna cum, daddy," you cry, wrapping your arms around his neck. "wanna cum so bad, please, please, please. please let me cum -- wan' it. wan' yours. daddy, daddy, daddy..." you moan out the words like a fucking mantra. and he's on his breaking point. you cannot be real. you feel like a character out of his perverted fairy tale. "fuck, wan' my cum, princess?" he moans back. he has no idea what he's saying at this point. he's talking with his dick. 100%. "take it" he grunts, fingers desperate to bring you to your high before his last straw finally snaps. "fuckin' cum, baby. fuckin' cum and take mine like a good girl, yeah?" a couple more stuttered thrusts and he has you convulsing, almost not breathing, on the sheets, body tensing as you reach your third orgasm, shaking and moaning like a fucking porn star.

one night stand!seungcheol lets out a jumble of curse words as he goes right after you, body jerking as he empties out his creamy cum inside your pussy. his body falls on yours, the smell of sex and cologne wrapping around your spent form. he stays like that until you sniffle, hand going up to wipe at your eyes. "fuck, you okay?" he pushes off of you, sitting up to gently scan you for possible injuries. you let out a small laugh of disbelief, a smile curving itself into your lips. "m' fine. jus' sore. a little." you mumble, shying away from his gaze. a deep blush coats your cheeks as you look around for something to cover yourself with. seungcheol pulls you towards him, scooping you into his arms. "where you goin' huh?" his voice rumbles in his chest as he gives you a lopsided grin. "can't let my princess go off alone like this." you groan in embaressment. "i didn't mean to call you..." you trail off "...daddy," you whisper, burying your face in your hands as seunghcheol brings you to the bathroom, turning on the bath water.

one night stand!seungcheol can't help but stare at your sleeping face, gently caressing your jaw, arms, hips, waist, everything. he can't help but wonder what would have happened if he had just dated you to start with. his heart almost stops in its tracks when you turn towards him and inches closer, snuggling into his beefy embrace.

one night stand!seungcheol and you have to face the consequences of the night: your brother. but as your brother yells and pulls at his hair and blaches and walks into a glass wall, you and seungcheol stare at eachother, giddy lovesick smiles painted on your faces.

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

My last post (about Galadriel and Halbrand having sex in Season 1) stirred some reactions, I think I should address them in an actual post, because I know a lot of fellow fans also have doubts about this.

The Tolkien legendarium (or lore) is massive, and ever expanding, and allows for multiple interpretations within what Tolkien wrote. As one Tolkien expert very well said, there is no "Tolkien canon", there is a legendarium, and some plots might fit that lore even if Tolkien didn’t write them himself (example: Sauron x Galadriel); 

“Rings of Power” is building upon Tolkien lore, so there’s also a show canon. 

I was told Galadriel’s pride (and being a princess of the Noldor) would never allow her to “secretly have sex in dark corners with an incredibly attractive, but unknown man with a dark past”. And I can't forget that High Elves do not behave like ordinary people.

Yeah, I don’t know about that, because back in the 1970’s director John Boorman planned a film adaptation of The Lord of the Rings, where Galadriel and Frodo actually had sex. And this script was approved by Tolkien himself. This movie, obviously, was never made, but a copy of the script is in Marquette University’s Tolkien collection.

If Tolkien approved of Galadriel f*cking a Hobbit in the middle of the woods, I don’t see why he would be against the idea of her having sex with a “mortal man” she was in love with at the time, in Eregion. At least, there would be some actual emotion involved here (which is more Eldar-like than just randomly having casual sex). Unless, Tolkien actually wrote Galadriel x Sauron and this draft is being kept a secret all this time, and somehow Sauron possessed Frodo to have sex with Galadriel, and that's why he approved this wild take.

In the “Unfinished Tales”, Tolkien wrote that Galadriel and Celeborn were lovers before they were actually married (which is very un-Eldar like). Well, Celeborn wasn’t a rebel, so they might have shared a few kisses while they were betrothed. Either way, Tolkien has clearly established a precedent here, with Galadriel being different from her kin, when sexuality is concerned.

I was told Galadriel was in love with Halbrand but didn’t want to touch him anymore than “fraternal handshakes”. Because Galadriel is a High Elf, and, so, she doesn’t have sexual desires (they will only appear when she wants children).

I don’t recall Tolkien saying that sexual desire, for Elves, only appears when they want to have children. This take isn’t in the “Eldar customs” chapter, where he talks about Elven sexuality. And we do have Elf characters (mostly male) in Tolkien lore who lust relentlessly after she-elves; Fëanor, Celebrimbor, Curufin, etc.  

Tolkien wrote that Elves enjoy sex (the act), but only do it with the purpose of having children, because they have self-restrain (not because they are immune to sexual desire). He wrote, however, that sexual desire usually dies out after the children are born, because the Elves devote themselves to other occupations.  

On the topic of Galadriel not touching Halbrand other than "fraternal handshakes", I remember her touching other body parts:

And this sneaky bastard doing this:

She was pretty much naked when they first met, so I don’t know about this “shame” or need to play coy.

We also saw Galadriel flirting with Halbrand in Season 1, for... no reason? By definition, flirting is a sexual behavior involving body language, where there’s no need for words most of the time, nor actual touching. Precisely because she's a High Elf, it's not like she would be trying to smack Halbrand's ass and wink.

Interesting enough, here, it’s Galadriel who, unconsciously, reaches out for Halbrand’s hand. 

I was accused of carefully hiding the fact that “sex = marriage” to the Elves on my original post.

I didn't. I actually talked about it twice:

For the Eldar sex = marriage. So much so, that a couple is considered married if they exchange vows to the Valar (Tolkien never specified these vows, only that Manwë is mentioned) and have sex (no feast or celebration required): this usually happens when the couple is in flight, and exile, and wandering.  The eternal bond (= marriage; because divorce is forbidden) between Elves happens during sex; when they have sex for the first time their bodies and souls become one (= “union of souls”), and it’s a more intense physical and spiritual experience than for Men. Elves who have not had that union together have not yet established that incredible bond.

Hence, I'm not sure where I hide this fact, exactly.

I was told that Maiar are higher-beings, meaning they are nobler and purer than those below them in Tolkien hierarchy (Elves, Dwarves, Men). And Maiar don’t reproduce (except for Melian). Sauron doesn’t have sexual desire because he’s a higher being, and he’s evil.  

I already wrote about this crap ("Sauron can't love, he's evil") many times, I’m not going to repeat myself: here, and here. 

Maiar can reproduce, if they chose to. Tolkien wrote an entire essay on it "Ósanwë-kenta”. Melian was able to reproduce because that was her choice, she’s not some “special case” among the Maiar. The majority of them probably wasn’t interest in becoming bound to their physical forms, though.

We also have Gandalf, one of the most powerful Maiar of all and one of the Istari, who indulges in “earthly pleasures” quite often. Mainly smoking weed pipe.  

To bring home the point that Maiar don’t care about sex, because they are higher beings, the Valar were used as an example: "the Valar don't have sex at all, they can only be in love" I'm told.

Yeah, no. Tolkien wrote this about Morgoth, when he saw Lúthien dancing for him (and the original draft was even more sexual, with Lúthien almost naked): 

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought.

Morgoth, who's a Vala, wanted to rape Lúthien in this scene ("evil lust", "a design more dark"). That's what Tolkien wrote. There's no love going on here, Tolkien is just poetic with his writing. Meaning, even the Valar have sexual desires. And Maiar do, too.

Morgoth (the literal Devil and the ultimate evil in Tolkien lore) lusted after both Varda (he probably loved Varda, in the beginning, actually) and Lúthien, but his servant (lower in rank) isn’t capable of the same emotions, I hear.

The fact that these are Gods and demigods has literally nothing to do with it. Anyone who’s familiar with worldwide mythology knows that “Gods and demigods lusting or falling in love with humans, etc.” is “today's special” on the menu. 

This, again, comes from the obnoxious idea that Tolkien was (only) inspired by Christianity to create his lore, and conveniently ignore all of his other inspirations: Old Norse/Greek/Slavic mythology, Germanic legends (Beowulf, mainly), Arthurian Legends, medieval tales, etc. Yes, Tolkien was a catholic, but he wasn’t a catholic priest. His work isn’t a copy-paste from the Bible. 

[sunhee27]

Criminal Love -L.HS

SYNOPSIS: Heeseung is a criminal (kinda) but his heart is warm and will welcome Y/n who he just met, but is already falling in love with.

WORD COUNT: 1,879 (Kinda short and rushed)

PAIRING: Criminal!Heeseung x reader

GENRE: Happy ending, whipped reader and Hee, FLUFF, angst, Criminals???

WARNINGS: Kissing, guns, cussing, pet names, don’t know if it’s suggestive

Author’s note: Damn I had this in my drafts for months. I didn’t really like it and wrote it in one sitting. It was rushed because I wanted it to be short. Turns out that was a bad idea. I just read it again and think it okay so now I am posting it.🫶I don’t really like dark themes so that’s why it is kinda bad. I also have a hard time making Heeseung very bad ass, that’s why he is not even that cold.

Another day, another meeting, another tiring day at work. 

You were on your way home, completely unaware of your surroundings, all you wanted to do was to get home immediately. 

You walked past a little alleyway after crossing the road. You would walked by this alleyway everyday and it scared the shit out of you because alleyways tend to be scary with drug dealers, homeless people, or criminals…

You heard loud footsteps running towards you from the alley and before you knew it, a man came crashing into you. You kinda caught him but it was mostly him holding himself up while clutching your shirt. 

“WE GOT HIM! Leave him there until we know he is dead.” Some men were shouting from a distance, you couldn’t see them but you could hear them and you knew that they were talking about the person who stumbled into you. 

You look down at him, he is bruised up and has been shot by his shoulder. 

But out of everything you should’ve been doing right now, you are only focusing on his face, he was very handsome even when his face expressed pain. 

He clutched on your shirt before whispering something to you. 

“Get me away from here, please.” He said with uneven breaths. 

Shit yeah right, you needed to do something about this. You slung his not damaged arm over your shoulder, getting him away from the alley. 

You walked him over to the back of a convenient store setting him down. 

“Thanks.” He said in pain pulling off a piece of his shirt to tightly wrap around his shoulder. 

“You should get away from here, you don’t wanna be seen with me.” He said, fishing out a gun from his pocket. 

He looks up at your frightened face. 

“I said get away, for your own safety.” He groans. 

“But my you are hurt, uhm” You say. 

“Heeseung, Heeseung is my name.” He says. 

“My name is Y/n.” You say. 

He attempts to stand u before falling down again, but his own reflexes grasp onto you without hesitation and thinking, and you fall right onto him on the ground. 

He chuckles, before sitting back up. 

You look up at him  and nervously laughs. 

“Shit, you’re pretty.” He breathes when you make eye contact, catching you off guard. 

“Huh?” You tilt your head, still half laying on him. 

“Nothing.” He smiles, before realizing how ridiculous he is right now, where is his usual coldness. 

He slightly push you off him so that you sit beside him instead. 

You look up at him while he fidgets with his gun. 

“Uhm, why were you running away from those people and why do you have gun?” You ask. 

He sighs “Yeah well , you see, I am not the typical kinda guy, I am a criminal.” He sighs, looking down into his lap. 

“Oh, wait what?!” You scoot backwards a bit.

“No no no, I won’t do anything to you, I promise.” He looks sad. Why did he have to be like this, why did he have to give you this first impression. 

You look up at him, he clearly seems like a warm guy even if he maybe isn’t. 

You look closer at his features, every blemish, every perfections in his face. Cuts and bruises, he is sighing heavily. 

He notices the way you are staring at him, so he looks at you quickly. 

“What are you looking at.” He scoffs, adjusting his posture and position. You don’t seem to answer, making his blush under your gaze. 

“Stop looking at me!” He says in an embarrassed and awkward tone. 

Before he could say more, you both heard the people from before, probably two police officers. 

He grabbed your wrist and sprinted out of the scene, to any nearby place where you both could hide, he didn’t intend to take you with him, even if he did, but like, he didn’t want to get you hurt. But he had to take you with him or else he would possibly be seen. 

“Where are we going.” You ask while running  with him. 

“I don’t know, just somewhere.” He says out of breath. 

“Go to my house.” You say genuinely. 

“What!? No I can’t do that.” He looks back. 

“it’s okay, I will lead the way.” You say. 

He stops in his tracks looking at you. 

“No, Y/n, I can’t do that l, do you know how dangerous I am, I shouldn’t even be here with you right now.” He puts both hands on each side of your body. 

“Heeseung you are hurt and I don’t think you are dangerous.” You say. 

“You don’t know what dangerous is do you.” His eyes turn sharp and before you know it he puts a gun against your head. You freak out, trying not to panic. 

“I know you won’t do it Heeseung, you just said that you promise you won’t hurt me. Stop trying to scare me away.” You breathe trying to stand tall. 

“No I won’t, take me to your place. Also I would never put a loaded gun to your head.” He whispers the last part before shooting, but to no one’s surprise, it wasn’t loaded. 

“Thanks for letting me help.” You knew this was so wrong, to help out a criminal, but your whole body and mind and heart was telling you to, you don’t even know most of his story. 

~~~

And both of you went to your apartment. 

“I know it is small but I hope it is okay.” You say and lay down all your stuff. 

“That’s fine.” He says. 

“Sit down. Let me see what I can do about your shoulder.” He does as you say and sits down by the side leaning against it. 

You come back with all the necessities. And begin to treat his wound. It was deep since he had been shot. 

“I don’t know how to treat this further than this.” You sigh. 

“That’s okay, it’s better than what I do.” He smiles.” He leans against the sofa. Almost falling asleep. 

“I should probably tell you about myself, if I can trust you.” He says. 

“You can, I promise. As long as it isn’t too bad.” You say and he lets out a deep chuckle. 

“I don’t think it is. I steal from people, but like not from real innocent people, more like, from people who has done bad things, like some have killed innocent children and raped and abused, all sorts of things. I do this to just ruin their lives, I guess” He smirks. 

“Oh okay, have you ever killed somebody?” You ask out of nowhere. 

“I mean, I hate to admit it but yeah, one person once, for self defense. He was not innocent though.” He shrugged, clearly not happy with saying it. 

“I don’t think that you are the bad guy then.” You say. 

“Maybe not but I am still a criminal.” He gulps. 

“So?” You ask smiling in a silly way. 

He can’t help but feel all giddy and bobbly inside. He giggles at you. 

“I don’t know” he smiles like an idiot at you. 

After you heard his story, it all made more sense, he wasn’t at all the villain, he was just a little lost.

“But why do you do it.” You ask. 

“It feels good, I don’t know why but seeing someone who doesn’t deserve living suffer really makes me happy. And while it may seem wrong to do so, I still can’t but help feel satisfied with doing what I do.” He says sighing slightly. 

“I mean I kinda understand, but is this really what you wanna do, run away from the police like this, sometimes you gotta just leave it as it is, it’s not your job to do this even if it’s crazy behavior what they do. Maybe there’s a better way to stop it.” You say genuinely.

He thinks for a while, letting the thoughts get to him, thinking about them. And he starts to realize. 

“Maybe you are right.” He says. 

“But people know my reputation now, I don’t know if I will be able to change.” He says. 

“I think you can.” You say. 

His hopes went up and down at the moment. 

“No I can’t. Fuck I need to leave Y/n.” He says standing up going towards the door. 

“Heeseung wait.” You say and pull him into a hug before he could leave. 

He melts into you, he is too weak for you, he is too weak to do anything else than just fall into you. 

He hugs back lowering himself into you, going impossibly closer to you. 

You can feel him breathing, how his chest heaves. 

“Shit, you are amazing, aren’t you?” He shuts his eye’s tightly. 

“But I need to go for real now.” He talks into you.

He slips out of your embrace and out of the door. 

Were you ever going to see him again, thought fill your brain. You wanted to see him again, but how. 

You lay yourself down on the couch. 

Your cat who is pretty distant came into the room, when it heard that Heeseung left it was probably here for food. 

“Hi Chico” you try your best with the baby voice. 

Chico meows you in the face. 

“Yeah yeah I know, you want food.” You sigh sitting back up. 

“But let mommy rest, I think mommy is falling in love” you say grabbing her in your arms, laying down again, hugging your fluffy friend tightly. 

~~~

Heeseung keeps looking back at where you are, deciding whether or not he should go back to you. 

~~~

The next day came faster than what you would’ve thought. It was around 7 pm, and you were just getting home, as you walked to your apartment, you saw Heeseung standing outside. 

It came as a shock when you saw him. 

You walked up to him patting his shoulder.

“Heeseung?” You say and he turns around. 

He smiles when he sees you. 

“Hi Y/n, sorry I really needed to see you again. I have thought about what you said yesterday…and I think I wanna try, for you.” He nervously says. 

“For me? Heeseung do you wanna do it if it wasn’t for me then.” You ask. 

“Yeah, I wanna do it for me, I am gonna do it for you.” He says. 

“I am a little too straightforward right? I only just met you yesterday, but like I can’t seem to get you off my min-” before he can finish, you attach your lips to his. 

He gets so surprised by it, his doe eyes widens before kissing you back. 

He closes his eyes, melting into the moment. 

“Heeseung I have never been more sure with my choice, and I choose you.” You say against his lips. 

“Even if I met you yesterday.” You say. 

“Don’t expect me to be warm to everyone though, I will only ever have this soft spot for you I think.” He says. 

“That’s kinda hot though.” You say making his eyes light up. 

“Oh yeah?” He chuckles. 

You lean against him while he leans against his car which is parked behind him. 

But suddenly you hear the sounds of sirens in the distance, making you and him eyes widen while looking at each other. You get off him in worry. 

“Did you-“ he says clearly frightened by if you were the ones to get the police there. 

“No Heeseung I could never, trust me I would never do this to you, I didn’t even know you were here to start with.” You clutch his shirt trying to make him believe in you. 

“No I trust you.” He nods. He turns you around. 

And whispers in your ear. 

“Remember what I said.” He says and grabs around you. 

The police show up. And you immediately realize something that could really help in the situation. 

“Let her go!!! You are under arrest.” The police officers steps closer to you and Heeseung. 

He carefully takes a gun out of his pocket putting it against your head. 

His personality instantly changes his eyes turn sharp and icy. His eyebrows turn making him look scary. And you feel his breath against your neck. 

“Step back or I will kill her.” Heeseung shouts. 

“Give me a chance to explain or I will kill her.” He says almost in a scared tone. 

“Boy we do not have time for this, let the girl go or we will kill you right here right now!” On of the officers says. 

You squirm in Heeseungs grip. 

“Don’t, give him a chance dad!” You shout, Heeseung is in shock by what you said. Letting go of you. 

“Dad?” he whispers slightly. 

“My dad is a police officer.” You say turning around. 

“You, boy! Don’t come near my daughter understood, I WILL kill you!” Your dad says stepping in closer. 

He grabs you pulling you away from Heeseung. While pointing a gun at him. 

You squirm around. “YOU ARE NOT KILLING MY BOYFRIEND, YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HIM LIKE I DO!” You push your dad off you. 

“Boyfriend?” He asks. 

“You are dating a criminal? I thought I taught you better than that. He was about to fucking shoot you.” He scolds. 

“You don’t understand do you? He has done nothing wrong. And he would never put a loaded gun to my head.” You argue taking the gun from Heeseung’s hand placing it against your head and shooting. And just as you had expected, nothing happened. Heeeeung feels guilty for doing this to you. He feels guilty that he is putting you in this situation. 

“Oh yes he has, he has does something wrong. he steals and he has killed a person.” Your dad replies. 

“Yeah people who are the real criminals that you and your colleagues are too dumb to even catch. People who kill kids, don’t you think they deserve to be punished.” You ask. 

Your dad sighs. 

“Is this how it all is.” Your dad scratches his head is frustration. 

“I won’t let you arrest him, I don’t care what you say.” You cross your arms. 

“Y/n you don’t need to do this, it’s okay.” Heeseung lowers his head. 

“Shut up, I want to do it.” You say. 

“Fine, but your boyfriend here is giving back every penny and every single thing he has stolen. Plus a big fine on top.” Your dad scoffs. 

Heeseung eyes widen in pure surprise. Looking over at you, the joy building up in him. 

“Thank you so much dad.” You say excitedly. 

Heeseung bows to your dad a hundred million times. 

“Thank you for giving me a chance sir” He bows again. 

“Don’t make me change my mind. Okay everybody we are out of here.” Your dad yells raising his brow at you before leaving. 

You turn around to Heeseung looking at you with the most genuine and loving smile on his lips. 

“Boyfriend?” He chuckles. You run into his arms. 

“Are you not?” You ask. Heeseung connects your foreheads. 

“I don’t know. Maybe I am.” He laughs. 

“Do you wanna be?” You laugh like a child. 

“Oh yes I do.” He says before smashing your lips together leaning against his car. 

“And I want you to be.” You mumble into the kiss. 

“Shit, you’re perfect.” He pulls you closer by the waist. 

[amandapearls]

Being a G*wynriel must be exhausting. They keep holding on to two sentences of a bonus chapter because nothing supports their ship. They keep checking our tags to copy theories, call us delusional, and feel better about themselves. They seem to think that the louder they are, and the more they insist that their ship should be endgame, SJM will change her plans and give them what they want.

Meanwhile, this is us Elriels watching their constant meltdown, knowing that we don’t need the BC because our ship has always been there. We don’t need a couple of misinterpreted sentences. We have countless interactions and four books to support our ship. We don’t need to interpret SJM’s intentions as if we were reading an ancient text. It’s all on the page.

The amount of anons I’ve been getting since I posted about Gwynriel being endgame is insane. Do you guys have jobs? Do you guys have a life? Do you guys have hobbies? —Just curious

I’m sorry that you’re so threatened by what Sarah wrote in ACOSF and Azriel’s bonus chapter that you feel the need to bombard others with all these weird anons.

To answer your question: No it’s not exhausting being Gwynriel because I know how Sarah writes her mates and they’re mate coded. Not only are they mate coded in Azriel’s bonus chapter but they’re also mate coded in the book “A Court of Silver Flames.”

And saying that Elain and Azriel have “4 books of buildup” is a HUGE STRETCH. They do not have 4 books of build up. They barely even interact. But you keep shipping your ship.

Condolences when the next book comes out and it’s not your ship 🤭🤭

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hello may 31th anon! Look at that, another year behind us and a new one to come. Have a nice day! ₍՞◌′ᵕ‵ू◌₎♡

[ehlnofay]

Travelling with Martin the second time is more an ordeal than it was the first.

There’s the Blades tagging along with them, now, with their elaborate plans and zealous concern; every time any one of them takes a step they rattle like tin cans, so loudly that if any of the cult is trying to track them down it’s a wonder they’re not all gutted already. Then there’s all the extra bits the Blades insist on – like tents, which Pax is by no means opposed to but slows them down ridiculously, always needing to be set up at night and taken down first thing in the morning, or the horses, which speed them up but Pax resents, all the same. (They always need breaks to rest or eat or what have you, and riding for too long sets them aching to hell, their legs and hips and stomach all quavering with exertion. Pax rides the same horse they found halfway through their first journey with Martin, and she is getting more familiar than she ever wanted to be with its little snorts and stomping gestures. Martin keeps patting it on the nose whenever they’re down on the ground again. Martin rides the paint horse, too – it’s two to a steed, plus bags, which Pax knows would be enough to snap their spines like dried-out twigs but of course the Blades have spelled saddles. Feathered, Martin says, like Pax has any idea what that means.) They all spend as much of the day riding as they can without the horses withering away and dropping dead, unable to divert at all from the roads without riding face-first into a tree branch, the Blades getting all serious and severe at any passing glimpse of another traveller, or the edge of a town, or a suspicious-looking boulder. It’s fucking exhausting. Maybe if they’d dressed Martin in something less impractically fancy, and left their glittering armour behind, they wouldn’t all be so conspicuous. Pax is the only one here with any sense.

In Blackwood, the trees don’t sprawl so low down; you can ride horses well off the road as long as you’re careful of the muck. For the first leg of the first trip with Martin, they didn’t have horses at all – they both just walked, past razed fields and empty buildings, the span of land around Kvatch near entirely abandoned, scrounging what they could and sleeping wherever they wanted. They couldn’t proper restock on supplies until they hit Skingrad – certainly didn’t have tents or armour that reflects every whisper of starlight so bright it blazes, and they were fine. It all feels unnecessary. And annoying. This close to the end, all the little extra things to pay attention to make Pax want to jump out of his skin.

Because they are close to the end. They’re in the denouement, now.

The Blades set up a watch routine, too – everyone crawls into their superfluous tents and leave one person up to keep an eye out, until they wake the next person for their turn, and so forth. Pax hasn’t done watch shifts like this since he left Blackwood. (It doesn’t really work, when you’re alone. Besides, he wakes easy, and he goes to sleep quick. Martin’s bad at it, so swapping watch back and forth when they were together just would have left him confused or lethargic the next day. Not worth the bother.) Pax gets watch shifts, most nights, set in the dark hours just before the sun rises; Martin, though he asks, doesn’t get any. Pax usually wakes him up, instead of whoever else she’s supposed to. It isn’t like he has anything he needs to be especially well-rested for – just sitting on a horse in an enchanted double saddle, same as the rest of them, his too-long hair getting in his face, careful arms loops around Pax’s middle. He won’t even take a turn to direct the bloody thing, because he still hasn’t learned how – the fact that he’s never managed to fall off is a damned miracle, honestly.

So she wakes him up, if the Blades won’t – and she doesn’t usually go back to sleep, right after, because there doesn’t seem all that much point. They both stay up, around whatever burnt-down firepit was constructed in the night, the small tents arrayed around them; the leaves of the trees rustle, flickered through by some small animal, owl or bat or squirrel living in a hollow. Crickets chirp, loud and endless.  It would probably be peaceful, if it could be, but Pax is keyed up, taut as a bowstring ready to snap, and he can’t really remember how to feel peaceful anymore. They’re getting ever-closer to the capital and the temple and the end of this whole strange, terrifying thing, and he wants it over and done with instead of lurking in this strange in-between space. They’ve all done so much to fix this and none of it will feel like any kind of accomplishment until the fires are lit and the Gates closed and sealed beyond reopening. It’s almost, almost, almost done – but it’s not the end yet, and in the quiet night all there is to do is waiting, and Pax, antsy, irritable, is very, very bad at waiting.

Martin’s better at it. Which isn’t to say he’s not nervous – he’s all nerves, even more than normal, which is really saying something – but he’s patient, and doesn’t complain, even though Pax knows he wants it over just as much as they do. Probably more. (Definitely more.) He just sits, in the dark and the dew, all quiet and watchful in just his undershirt and warm wool trousers, and even those are fancy, all fine-sewn and slippery as water to the touch. They wear oddly on him. He keeps the Amulet tucked under his clothes, cold metal setting against bare skin, and the red gleam beneath his shirt makes it look, at certain angles, like his heart is glowing.

The fire is well out; no owls call. Pax lies, in their own much less swish sleeping-things, in the dirt and grass, all of it wet so thoroughly with dew that it soaks the back of their tunic. Through the silhouettes of leaves and branches, they can just make out the lustre of the stars.

The old Emperor talked an awful lot about stars, when Pax met him; she wonders, vaguely, what he’d make of these ones.

There’s a shifting, up nearer the firepit; and, “Pax?” Martin whispers, sound half-swallowed by the still, drifting night. “Are you awake?”

“It’s sopping wet,” Pax replies. He props himself up on his elbow and turns his head; Martin’s got a lantern lit, and it’s just enough to make out his face by. “Even I’ve got my limits.”

Martin exhales; Pax knows he’s smiling because they can see the dim white gleam of his teeth. It’s not too cold a night – they’ve travelled far enough from Bruma to be clear of its sodden snow and ice and winds – but it’s not warm, and the wet fabric plastered to their back is chill enough to make them shiver. The stars, up above, shine cold and clear.

“I was wondering,” Martin says, voice still hushed; his eyes flicker up to the snatches of sky between the tree branches, too. “What will you do, when all this is done?”

It’s a perfectly reasonable question; Pax realises, quite abruptly, that doesn’t have an answer. She sits up, shuffles awkwardly over the dewy grass. “I don’t know,” she says slowly; she shrugs. “Go back to the roads, I s’pose. Get some venturing work. Join a guild, maybe, if I get bored.”

(They haven’t thought about it; they’ve been busy. A part of them – quite a large part, if they’re being honest – kind of wishes the Crisis would never end, one way or the other. Wishes it would keep on in this sort of suspended state forever. But it won’t, and it can’t, and it would be ridiculous to say as much. Just – they’ve never done anything this exciting, before. And they don’t really know anything that could measure up, once it’s done.)

(Pax has never really been one to plan for the future. Back in Blackwood, he didn’t have to; he knew he’d just run with the same crew he always had, and he learned only from them. Learned letters and archery and what dregs of mage-craft he had any aptitude for – learned to scamp on the roads and crack locks reasonably well. And then he left, and became a hero, and that’s a good occupation in itself, but it’s not going to last forever. He’s not sure what his other options are – he could try to work square, but he doesn’t think it would last. He’s not one suited to an apprenticeship, or an honest job, or much of anything, really. The only thing he really knows is this.)

In the lanternlight, the shadows are so stark that Martin’s face looks creased with ink. “Oh? What guild? Fighters? Thieves?”

“Thieves’ Guild wouldn’t take me,” Pax tells him loftily; they wriggle a bit closer, goose-pimples rising on their shins. “They don’t like independent operators, and I’ve been one since I was born.”

Martin clucks his tongue. “You can’t say things like that around me, Pax. I’ll have to have you arrested.”

“Like you could,” Pax tells him, grinning, and leans over about as far as she can reach to elbow him. She has to lever herself back up, afterwards. The watery-pale stars are winking at her.

Martin is looking up at them again. “There’s always work for a hero, I’m sure,” he says, and waves a hand. “You’ll have endless people to save and feats of derring-do to perform. Perhaps you could write an autobiography.”

“Ha.” Martin’s received their letters, sent on longer stretches away from Cloud Ruler; he’s read their writing, their chicken-scratch hand and the less than delicate way they pick their words. Pax is fine enough as a communicator; they get to the point quickly and clearly. But metaphor and flowery prose is rather beyond them. And they’ve seen the speech Martin gave in Bruma, the endless editing of his drafts, debate over this word or that. “You know you’re the better writer of the two of us, Martin Priest. Reckon you should pen our book.”

Martin tips his head further back. “I wasn’t even there for most of the interesting parts,” he points out, “and I’m sure to be far too busy, besides.” His eyes are closed. Pax shunts themself another bit across the grass.

“Oh, I’m sure you can take a half-hour every evening to scribble out a few paragraphs in your four-poster bed and your kingliest pyjamas,” he says, unsympathetic, and flicks him in the shoulder. “With a silk canopy, and duckling-down blankets, and a pen nib of solid gold.”

“All right, all right.” Martin opens his eyes; they look grey, in the dim light, the orange lanternlight flickering off their whites. He reaches out an arm, and Pax rolls his eyes but shuffles damply into it all the same. “I suppose I have no choice.”

His arm, settled around their shoulders, is heavy-warm. Pax leans their shoulder into his ribs, under his armpit. This close, they can see the faint gleam of the Amulet through his undershirt. Quiet, they ask, “Still nervous?”

Without missing a beat, Martin replies, “Excruciatingly.”

He’s always nervous. But on this, Pax can’t even really make fun of him for it – if someone told her that she was the heir to the whole Empire, and tried to thrust her into court to take it all over, she’d tell them to eat shit. If the fate of the world depended on it, though, that wouldn’t really be an option anymore. And Martin’s too nice, most of the time, to tell anyone to eat shit. And Martin’s too nervous not to take every bit of it so painfully seriously. Not just the world-ending bit, but all the etiquette and legalese, too. Jauffre gave him some books to read to try to acquaint himself with it all; none of them seemed to help much.

“You’ll be fine,” Pax says, and leans their head on his shoulder, the post of their earring jabbing into the skin behind their ear. They gesture out at the silhouetted tents. “You’ve got all this lot, and the Elder Council – they’ll help you out. If they won’t let you take a piss by yourself they’ll definitely be there to assist with the stuff that’s actually important.” Martin exhales; it’s almost a laugh. The earring is beginning to hurt quite badly, so Pax lifts their head. “Besides, you’re trying. You want to get it all right. That’s more than some would do.”

“Thank you, Pax,” Martin says, and then they’re both quiet.

The stars above look watery-dim. The silhouettes of trees have slightly more dimension. Martin is pressing his palm, fingers splayed, to the smooth-cut bump of the Amulet under his shirt. Pax is still shivering, a bit – lying her whole back down in the dew was a bad idea. Now she’ll have to wear her one other tunic and hope this one dries out in time not to wet everything else in the bags.

“I hope,” Martin says, voice silver-soft in the dark, “that when you’re out roaming, shocking everyone with your valour and intrepidity, you’ll come to visit a great deal. You won’t have the excuse of being out saving the world anymore.”

Pax leans her shoulder harder into his ribs. “Only if you’re not boring when I’m there,” she replies. “You won’t have the excuse of saving the world either.”

“No,” Martin says. “I’ll be running it instead.”

Already, the stars are beginning to snuff themselves out, like candle-lights; in half an hour or so, the sky will start to lighten properly. The Blades will all wake, springing up like little clockwork puppets, and the tents will be packed up, and the horses saddled – they’re tied on slack ropes to trees down the other end of the clearing, and now, if Pax squints, he can just make them out – and then the day will begin, the timer trickling down.

Pax wets his lips. “Three more days,” he says. “Thereabouts.”

Then they’ll reach the city.

Martin breathes out, slow. “Then I’ll really be Martin Septim.”

The Amulet glows under his shirt, royal-red, rising and dimming like a heartbeat. If Pax hadn’t been arrested, that day – by chance, for one of the few robberies they actually didn’t commit – then they wouldn’t have been taken to the gaol, dribbling blood all over the floors, antagonising the guards trying to mark them down in the records, and they wouldn’t have ended up in that dust-coated cell with the shitty neighbour across the way, and the old Emperor would never have glanced at them twice, and the door never would have opened, and they wouldn’t be here.

Pax is not one for gratitude, generally, but they have never been so thankful to be falsely imprisoned in their life.

“My census name’s Camilla Patesco,” he says.

He’s looking at the first watery dregs of dawn in the sky, not at Martin’s face; but he can hear the smile in his voice when he replies, “I won’t tell anyone.”

[miutonium]

Its 4 am, I should be sleeping but why is it that I just have the urge to draw and ship her with a pathetic nerd gf??

[jichanxo]

sooooo... *twirls her hair* how many asks should i send until kuwagami art. jk as well. the real question will be: does it happen often that someone else’s art inspires you? in fandom spaces specifically

well you see it’s like a loyalty card program, every 10 asks or so you get a complimentary kuwagami

just kidding you can just breathe in my direction and I’ll be tempted to draw them. kuwagami blast! (you've caught me on a... just okay art day lol)

(people still like kabedons, right?)

anyway for my actual answer: in terms of direct inspiration, it doesn't really happen much? the last two times i did art directly based on someone else's work is probably this one from this fic, and also that time i drew art of someone else's judgment au. oh! and there's that moriohpsycho art based on this comic! (filthyguts' work is so very. hgngngghh. very good.) nothing else really comes to mind, and when i think of the other things i've been into recently there hasn't been as much opportunity for that to happen...

flex and herds = strong fixation but lmao. almost nobody else made stuff about them. nobody is surprised umineko = surprisingly i don't read much umineko fanfiction? and in terms of illustration, i certainly picked up imagery and indirect inspiration but nothing concrete enough for me to give an example... now that i think about it, i did once draw andromalius from redaction/sunny, but that was years ago, and also mostly because i was acquainted with the writer. ...i don't have that artwork on hand right now death note = didn't really get involved with the fandom + i enjoyed my own ideas well enough! ...i can't recall if i drew long-hair-L art before or after seeing other artists do it. and as for everything else the same kind of reasoning applies. didn't really get involved with the fandom or wasn't really compelled to make art in response to stuff i saw, or i just don't remember anymore.

buuuuuuut if we're opening this up to just... pulling ideas from other people? then yeah, all the time, though that kind of goes without saying when you have a creative hobby. ...it's probably going to be hard to come up with examples of this since it's more ambiguous.

there's uhhhhhh... kuwana listens to nickelback which was a @/four-white-trees invention, wasn't it? (EDIT: and @/overdevelopedglasses!) (not tagging in this post so he doesn't feel obligated to read my big ass ask responses 💀) as of writing this, it's not posted but i did end up making kuwagami art based on a nickelback song so. yknow. there's that LMAO

for sawashiro and arakawa, i do sometimes go reference @/todayisafridaynight 's art to help me with my own. ("how did he draw this part of the suit? oh, like that huh? hmm" <- this kind of thing)

and um. i'm not trying to pander to you (at least not this time), but genuinely it's one of the few examples that come to mind at this moment. but when i was writing my first kuwagami fic, i could feel the influence of the ever-changing on my brain... was turning over some of your ideas there...

you remember this? (you even pointed it out in your comment on my fic, and i should've said something then, but whatever i'm saying it now)

that was absolutely because of this

(obligatory poke at anybody else reading this post that you can read passthroughtime's fic here.)

so, um. yeah. not really sure what else to add to that. pretty self evident i think. (i'm always talking about the ever-changing but i don't think i can overstate the impression it left on me at the time)

anyhow there aren't really any other examples off the top of my head! these are all recent examples so they're not so difficult to recall, but there are probably others i've forgotten...

[thegreatyin]

who is the scoundrel? I see you posting about them(it? Idk) all the time but I haven’t figured out who they are

my fallen london OC! i made them by accident a few months ago and as you can tell ive very quickly developed scoundrel brainrot. it's a terminal illness for which there is no cure and the symptoms are instead of brain there is scoundrel.

in terms of actual character rundowns, their full moniker is The Bandaged Scoundrel, though i tend to call them "the scoundrel" for short. their real name is D█████, but they'd sooner die permanently than respond to or even acknowledge its existence.

they are! a bastard! a rat! a son of a b___! a motherf______! they are vain beyond your wildest imagination and they think they're the most infallible perfect being in all of existence and they have the exact attitude of a saturday morning power-hungry cartoon supervillain on cocaine.

and also, perhaps most importantly, they're Really Fucking Stupid. because of course they are.

they are resplendently awful. they are inevitably going to cause their own demise in an act of pure karmic retribution. they are a speck of dust in history that desperately keeps trying to insist they're actually a tornado. i love them dearly.

in loose conclusion while also acknowledging ive explained literally nothing; my goofy silly victorian london browser game player character that deserves to get timetraveled against their will to the 21st century specifically so they can get hit by a truck

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Just saw this comment on a story posted a month ago.

*cries in Eddie Munson Solo Series no one wanted to read, interact with or request for*

No shade to the person that commented this on their own fic if you recognize it. It's not their fault. I'm not mad at them. More crying in the tags.

[musical-chick-13]

Regarding the previous post, I think the way I approach trying to evaluate a piece of art is asking "Do I think the positive things I get out of it outweigh the parts of it that I don't like?" And when I call something a "guilty pleasure" song/show/book/piece of media/etc. it's really more in the sense of, "Given who I am as a person, the flaws I've found in this should be complete dealbreakers for me, but somehow they aren't, and it makes me feel like I'm having an identity crisis."

[nappingpaperclip]

honestly I’m fucking tired of calling my reps and begging them to care

I’ve been calling them over and over and over for the past four months begging and pleading them to speak out about what is obviously genocide

I don’t think they listen, most likely their underpaid interns got instructed to throw notes or voicemails out, but even if they do they don’t fucking care. It’s exhausting.

The White House comment line is only open for 4 hours 4 days of the week during hours most people work. If you’re able to call and wait for 20 minutes to finally speak to an intern they take a brief note and you can only hope they don’t immediately throw it out.

I’ve been doing this since I was a child. begging my reps to care about children being shot in school. begging them to care about my own schools getting bomb and gun threats every year. begging them to care about the fact that people don’t feel safe around cops. begging them to care about the growing number of people in my city becoming jobless and homeless and dying of covid. begging them like a dog to care at all about people’s lives and happiness.

I don’t know. I’m just fuckin’ tired

I won’t give up though. It’s not the only form of activism I do or the main one I give my energy to. I hope the same thing for anyone reading this. You shouldn’t just be boycotting and calling your reps, you should be attending vigils and protests and speaking about the issue of genocide to your friends and family

I’m just tired of people pretending like our representatives actually give a fuck what we think over their lobbyists and investors cause it is and has always been clear to me that they don’t. America has never been a democracy and if you think that you are deluded.

[twpsyn-who]

Soulmates AU in which when your soulmate is in a situation that can result in their death you get to see through their eyes. Like, I don't know how to explain this- it kind of flashes between what you see and what your soulmate sees. You know those edits where there's a scene going on and there's another one faded in the background happening at the same time? Similar to that. The idea is that you get to see what your soulmate sees too, on top of what you're seeing.

Now, this AU but JeanMarco. With Marco asking the others where's Jean, just for him to start seeing a corpse right in front of his eyes not even a second after asking. Seeing through Jean's eyes as he's trying to get hold of that gear and stuff. And once Jean's safe, once it clicks that you know his best friend is his soulmate Marco can't wait for them to graduate so he can you know tell him that.

Then, you know. That happens. And Jean is so fucking confused because he keeps seeing Annie crying, looking down on him. Only when Annie starts getting off the gear, when his soulmate starts moving around trying to get away he starts panicking, starts moving around faster than before. And maybe he's too late. Or maybe he shows up in time and kills the titan. I don't know. That's not where I'm trying to get, but to the second option AKA Marco pulling an UNO reverse on Annie because he's a smart sneaky bastard like that and being like 'Hey you can't kill me, my soulmate will know it was you' which makes her stop trying to take off his gear. Reiner keeps telling her to do it, Bertholdt keeps yelling about that titan coming closer, but Annie... she has seen things, at some point. Flashes of moments that weren't hers, happening right in Trost- right in that moment. And she didn't give them too much thought until that moment, until it got confirmed that it has nothing to do with her titan powers.

'What do you mean by that?' she asks, because she needs to know more. Because she wants to know more. And Marco starts explaining how it works. Tells them that he has found his soulmate, that they will put all the blame on them for his death. Reiner doesn't believe him, keeps insisting that he's playing them around - he, and anyone born and raised on Marley, has never heard of something like that before, it doesn't exist - but Annie tells him to shut up and to let Marco go. Cue to the plot of any fic in which Marco doesn't straight up die after finding up their secret.

Anyway I don't know man, just,,, We need more soulmate aus for JeanMarco. That's an order.

[helianskies]

ugly maths.

i hate maths, right. i don't usually like numbers, and if i do like numbers it's gotta be an 8 or a 48 and nothing else.

thing is, i've recently caught myself doing maths again. ugly maths. the kind of maths that, really, i've been trying to avoid as much as possible because, well, it's ugly!

you... wanna see?

okay, fine... but don't say i didn't warn you!

ugly, see? look at all those numbers! not a 48 in sight!

huh? what's that? you don't see what i'm on about? oh... oh! hang on, lemme just—

better? yes? no? no? okay, what if i—

mmh, yes. ugly numbers. see it now? can you see why they're ugly?

here, i can make it worse.

these numbers are ugly. the maths they make me do is ugly.

now i'll level with you: the worst ones by far are the yellow numbers. the maths they make me do it the ugliest.

why ugly?

because it makes me ugly.

those numbers turn me into not only a suddenly number-obsessed fool, but a fool who also cannot understand these numbers and what they mean and why i feel like they reflect on me and my ability.

87, 75.

the thoughts are as follows:

• the orange numbers are big, so why are you being ugly about the yellow ones? you should be happy with what you have. so many nice big numbers! not everyone receives that.

• is it that there are two different audiences for these two different fics? perhaps. they are quite different works, with different appeals, and different themes. maybe you are reading too much into it.

• why are you obsessing over numbers anyway? you don't like maths! you left maths behind when you were 16, put it down!

okay, okay, fine! i'll put the maths down. right here, in fact!:

that 87 was an 83 at the start of the year. the 6161 it is attached to was a 5453.

4, 708.

ugly maths.

the 75 is a nice number. in fact, compared to 87, it is beautiful, radiant, enchanting. at the start of the year, 75 was 48. wow. now that is one sexy number!

27.

mmmm.

6161, 1061.

5100.

87, 75.

12.

mmmm.

you know, my most favourite comment left recently on a fic of mine was 2 characters long: :(

it made me :)

well, actually, it made me >:) because it was left in response, presumably, to one of the key scenes in a new chapter which left the exact impression on someone that i hoped it would.

they must be the only one who reacted like that, though.

1.

have i mentioned that that 87 and 75 include author responses?

i won't try to do more maths, there. it might not end well for me. the maths is making me tired enough as it is, and i have an early start tomorrow.

oh! but, that being said, i have another set of ugly numbers to show you, so keep 87 and 75 in mind.

ready?

838, 245.

(want a hint? the green numbers!)

838, 87. 245, 75.

9.6, 3.3.

ugly maths. it's ugly again, see? i don't like it. i'm seeing numbers within numbers within numbers, and i can't seem to stop!

the numbers make me ask new questions:

• why is it not good enough?

• people seem to engage more with one fic over the other, so shouldn't you prioritise?

• is all this maths this really good for you?

no, it isn't.

i want to avoid ugly maths. ugly maths makes me want to tear my hair out. it makes me want to start from scratch. it makes me want to grab someone and scream. it makes me want to cry and press a button that has tempted me many times before when the numbers become too ugly to bear.

ugly maths turn me into an ugly person.

ugly maths make me obsessive, paranoid, anxious, regretful, vindictive, spiteful, alone.

i hate maths. i hate numbers, just like, it feels, the numbers hate me.

[riverswater]