#TUMBLR DELETED HALF MY FUCKING WRITING WHEN IT HIT POST WHAT THE FUCK

[m1d-45]

Let it be known that I love writing fluff, and I listen to character audios sometimes. SO! I came up with a cute idea for sagau imposter au. I heard somewhere that Xiao's adeptus form is a bird, so I wonder, what kind of bird? And that got me thinking. Xiao being a little song bird, or perhaps even a cardinal.

Now imagine: while looking for the imposter, Xiao stumbles upon them sitting beneath a tree, just feeding some birds. Said birds are absolutely loving the attention since the creator of Teyvat is giving them food and love!

Xiao watches, rather curious. The creator he knows hates birds, because they always dive and cause problems for them. But now... these little birds have completely abandoned any fear they may hold for human beings, happily landing on the hands and shoulders of this supposed imposter.

So he decides to test something.

Xiao turns into a small bird and approaches cautiously. In his smaller form, he's vulnerable to attack. But the person before him doesn't try to hurt him. Rather, they smile and call him "little friend" as they offer food to him. In his distrust, he bites them with his sharp beak.

His heart shatters when he sees divine blood spilling from the wound.

He's about to fly away, get as far away from here as he can. He found the true creator, and instead of worshipping them, he bit them! He caused them to bleed, he shouldn't even be near them-!

His mind stills when they pet his feathered head.

They murmur kind words to him, apologizing to him. They believed that they had startled him, that he bit to protect himself. They forgave him, they felt no hatred towards him, no anger or disappointment. Instead, they offered some chopped almonds, hoping he'd prefer that over bird seed.

He sang for them as he perched on their shoulder.

After that, he did his best to secretly protect the creator he'd harmed. He would adopt his smaller form and sing for them when they felt sad, and he'd use his human form to guard them from a distance. Yes, it made his chest ache whenever they looked at him with fear when they saw his more human form, but the yaksha only shook it off. It only made sense that you'd be scared. He was a frightening person, one that had tried to harm you before. He refused to try and change your feelings towards him. He didn't have the right.

He would be content to sing for you as a harmless bird.

-sibling anon (sorry if this is out of character for him I just like the idea)

oh….. he’s so soft…..

xiao hovering near the edge of the crowd, at first, drawing your attention since he doesn’t seem to be eating any of the seed you’d passed out.

when he finally hops within arms reach, you reach to nudge some of the food next to him closer, only to quickly whip your hand back. the birds around (on) you all flutter at the sudden movement, but you inspect your finger, the blue blood of teyvat welling up. your instinct is to stick it in your mouth, but that doesn’t seem safe considering a bird bit it, so you dab at it with a napkin.

the bird cries and flaps his wings, distraught, and your heart hurts. poor guy, you probably scared him, moving so quickly.

you pull out some chopped almonds from your pocket. the plan was to have them as a snack, but now… you put a few in your palm and close your hand around it, reaching forward to gently run two fingers over the birds back.

the other birds in the area seemed receptive to that, and this one does too, calming down considerably.

you take your hand back, opening your palm to drop the almonds on the floor, nudging them close before backing off.

“there you go,” you murmur, as the bird dips down to inspect the food. “i won’t hurt you.”

you allow yourself a silent cheer when it eats one of the almond pieces.

you see the small bird fluttering around you often, always on the edge of your vision. it’s easy to identify, the purple patch of feathers on its forehead easily standing out, and you’re always certain to push some food over to it. almonds, not birdseed.

the bird is a dark blue-teal, the underside of its wings a softer blue. it’s like no other bird you’ve seen in liyue, something that quickly catches your attention.

you brush some dirt off you as you stand, noting the way the bird immediately looks up from its food, unlike the others, to flap up into the tree you were sitting under.

you crack a smile, carefully reaching a finger for it. you’re slower this time, cautious of its skittish nature, but it lets you approach. when you carefully pet over its head, the birds eyes close.

your smile grows, and you try not to laugh at how confused the bird seems when you pull your hand away.

“i have to go,” you explain. “the millelith… they’re getting too close again. i won’t be able to see you again, little friend.”

the bird chirps, nearly indignant, and you do laugh this time. putting a small piece of almond on the branch in front of it, you wave goodbye to the other birds, seeing the blue one hadn’t touched the almond.

you frown. hopefully it’ll be alright….

xiao watches you until you’re out of sight, and even then, he stays on the branch.

you…. he’d forgotten you were being hunted by the millelith. he’d forgotten the order to look out for you. he’d forgotten the qixing called you a criminal.

who could blame him? it was easy to forget everything at your side, when you carefully ran your fingers over his feathers, scratching at his jaw with the edge of your nail. yes, he was vulnerable as a bird, but it was easy to be vulnerable with you. it was easy to be open, to sing as best he could in this form, to allow himself close enough to see the way your eyes lit up whenever another bird landed on your outstretched finger.

xiao dropped to the ground, morphing back into his human form. predictably, the birds cawed and flew away quickly. he watched them go, his mind contrasting it with how readily they flocked to you.

you…

he turned to the branch he was on, to the small almond piece left behind. the small symbol of your care, of how you recognized that he didn’t touch the birdseed and instead offered him your own food to eat. normally he wouldn’t lower himself to eating off the ground at all, let along bird food, but almonds weren’t awful and you seemed so happy when he ate..

xiao looked back to where you’d gone, to the sandbearer trees swaying in a soft wind.

he allowed his form to fall away and spread his wings, taking flight on the same breeze that urged you along.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little while longer, if it meant he could spend that time with you.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little longer, if it meant he’d get to spend that time with you.

[chromations]

The Robert Plant post that's been on my mind since the jimmy post.

EDIT: tumblr fucked up and deleted half the post AND put it without tags. Now complete

It's easier to write about psychology I relate to. To dive into something so clear, so easy to point out the faults of. Writing Jimmy's story was easy. What I'm writing now is less than.

This is how Led Zeppelin impacted Robert Plant. As usual, feel free to add, and the rest is under the cut. This is gonna be sad (and long)

Anyone can spot how, now, Robert reflects on his Zeppelin days with disdain. He doesn't perform nor relate to the majority of his Zeppelin songs anymore. Of course, just as the rest of the band, he's sick of the press asking for another tour. Another reunion. Another reminder of a dark spot in who we see as the golden god.

What happened?

What *didn't* happen?? At first, Zeppelin started out and grazed the sun. And the sun had been spun for years, so to speak. Popularity, sex, riches, women, freedom, *music*. Who wouldn't want that? Of course, there had been the lyrics written by a guy in his early 20s, the many meanings eluding and warping to the ears of the listener. There was criticism over the different lifestyles, tear gassing, police raids, there was Jimmy and Lori. Even recounted by Jimmy Page (Through the On This Day feature), they'd perform in Memphis, only to be stopped by a man with a gun when they'd wanted to perform an encore.

Still, each life had its faults. Robert would write Sick Again's lyrics with the groupees in mind, with the underlying sadness for what Lori had gone through.

Come 1975, and the wax starts to melt. Jimmy starts on heroin at some point during their tours that year. After Plant's family flies out, he and Robert vacation in Morocco. After, in Greece, Robert is driving with his family, and they get into an accident: Almost fatal on Maureen, a broken ankle + elbow on Robert, and bruises on the kids. Back in England, they'd receive care... Only for Plant to have to leave England due to his tax exile. He'd spend the time in a wheelchair, writing and developing Presence. Achilles Last Stand, about his time in Morocco with Jimmy, previously called The Wheelchair Song. Tea For One, about the loneliness and despair on tour, of being away from his family. For Your Life is about a friend of Robert's who had been heavy in drugs. Quote from faroutmagazine, it's reflected that Presence was "a cry from the depths"/"a cry of survival"

Presence is often shat on for what's perceived as a lackluster, boring, rehashed album. While I see where these statements come from, Presence happens to be my favorite album.

In 76, Presence is released, and in the same year, Zeppelin's concert film The Song Remains The Same, to make up for the canceled tours in pursuit of Plant's recovery.

1977 comes around. American tour. Everyone's unsure if the band will perform the same after such a hiatus, but it works out. Mostly. Page, as in my other post, is emotionally unavailable, to say the least, in his own struggles. The band in total is still imbibing in heavy drug usage (JPJ, however, more discreet with his use and not to be found in embarrassing situations), but the tour breaks records, a heavy hitting comeback.

Icarus falls, the zeppelin crashes.

Come summer, the third leg just there, and Robert gets the call: Karac Plant, his son, passed while he was away. The cause had been an unknown stomach illness, and he couldn't have even been there for his son. Gut wrenching. Karac was 5.

Tour canceled, and the last time Zeppelin played North America, Plant flies back home with Bonham and Richard Cole at his side. Jimmy and Peter Grant remain in America, while Jones takes time for vacation. During his time of immense grief, Plant heavily considered quitting music all together to be a teacher, as he just wanted to be with his family. While everyone else was off flitting about, Robert says John Bonham was the only one really at his side for the entire process. Out of the members of Zeppelin, Bonzo was the only one attending Karac's funeral at Plant's side. The darkest, most heartbreaking moment of your life, and your friends aren't around (Of course Bonham was, of course he was around. They were best friends). Jones had said, later, with what Elvis dying, all he knew was that he (Robert) should have his space. Lacking etiquette and not knowing consolation shouldn't mean you (in context, Jones and Page) lack the ability to be there for your friend, though.

Robert never fully got over Karac's death. I wouldn't blame him. He wrote multiple songs over the years honoring his son (All My Love, Blue Train, I Believe).

In addition, he would have a talk with himself, in which he would quit drugs. Quote below.

After everything of 1977, the future of Led Zeppelin became uncertain. Just about silence for a long time, while Plant went through the grief process.  About 1977, he says: “[it was] the year it all stopped for me. Nothing could make it all right again and nothing ever will.” 

"During the absolute darkest times of my life when I lost my boy and my family was in disarray, it was Bonzo who came to me."

Finally, Page and Bonham convince Plant to stay in music, to stay with Zeppelin, when Jimmy told him to take a break until he's ready, and that the band is nothing without Robert.

Zeppelin returns in 1979, though the light has dimmed. Jimmy and Bonham lose themselves further. If you take a look, In Through The Out Door is largely about Robert's feelings once more. When recording and writing, it's often said that the band had split in two: Sober (Plant and JPJ) and not sober (Page, Bonham) . While Plant and Jones wrote and composed, the other two would fail to show up on time, sometimes even at all. As previously mentioned, All My Love and I'm Gonna Crawl are tributes to Karac. In The Evening is about the struggles and stress faced even through his stardom and wealth.

Carouselambra tells the story of Zeppelin's fall. From kings, gods, to rust. In particular, it details the loneliness and betrayal felt by Plant after his band mates failed to be there for him.

"Where was your word, where did you go?

Where was your helping, where was your bow?

Dull is the armour, cold is the day

Hard was the journey, dark was the way, way

I heard the word, I couldn't stay, oh

I couldn't stand it another day, another day"

In particular, "Where was your word, where did you go?" struck with me.

The rest of the album is filled with lighter, story centered, and explorational songs. Plant knew that while Zeppelin was there, it was nearing its end. Come Knebworth, a great show, but Robert is different, you see it in his eyes. The naivety, the innocence, the belief that he could have it all, has faded.

And nobody else is the same at knebworth, either.

Fast forward a year and John Bonham dies, god rest his soul. Led Zeppelin breaks up. Robert loses his best friend and son in the span of 3 years.

Icarus burns. The zeppelin crashes.

Robert distances himself from the rock scene, exchanging most of his heavy vocals to explore different genres of music. He shies away from Zeppelin, but the public is calling for more. An encore. A reunion. Each one goes wrong, between being too stoned and ill timed, the improper rehearsals, the matter not being taken seriously.

Page and Plant starts and Robert finds himself back in his old shoes, polished and new. He enjoyed it this time around, digging up unreleased material and playing it "Unledded."

The masses want more. The golden god, playing the same old tune and having to visit the same old wounds of life. They want the sun to shine like it had been touched again, but the sun shined differently back then. The public dooms him to the same old song he's been fighting to escape, but the song doesn't remain the same, the song has changed.

He's still beautiful. Still Robert Plant. But he's not the same as he was, he's not the bright, young boy performing Stairway to the crowd for the first time, or 50 playing as Page and Plant. He's past that.

December 10th, 2007, O2 Arena, London. He says good evening. One last show. Jason Bonham on drums and backing vocals. John Paul Jones, keyboard and bass guitar. Jimmy Page, electric guitar. And himself, Robert Plant. A legendary show, honored to Ahmet Ertegun.

After, Jones and Jimmy want to continue with a reunion. Robert doesn't, won't. He has a solo career. He's fought to free himself from the golden boy he was. This isn't him anymore. These aren't his songs.

He grows disconnected from his songs of Zeppelin, a lifetime ago. He grows to hate stairway, until it's 2012 at the Kennedy Honors Center. Heart performs Stairway to Heaven with a choir and Jason Bonham. Robert tears up, seeing his best friends son out there. In that moment, he grows to appreciate Stairway: Only if it's sung by a younger voice, though.

The media wants more. The people want more. They will always want more, it's never enough, but he can't sing a song that's lost its meaning to him.

Robert Plant is a man of many times. The golden god we know of now is eternally different from who he was. I will always love him through all walks of life, each and every stage.

[freya-captain]

Dear anon, I was fucked by Tumblr

and deleted your ask by accident (bc I found sth missing in my post) So allow me to post it here and hope you could see this...

So basically the question was about although Jacegon know they love each other aegon know that Jace would always choose duty over him. So here's what I write based on this:

I do believe there's a sense of destined tragedy haunting the ship. I wrote something alike before about Jace being uncontrollably in love with Aegonsince childhood, but his feelings were shattered to pieces after him usurping the throne. When he returned from Winterfell, he sneaked into the capital to see Aeg for the last time and say goodbye (in cruel words) to him.

The clip belowis also part of that story when they were still together, both of them young and knowing nothing about the tragic fate that will befall them. But Aeg already knew something.

Warning: NSFW 18+

Pairing: Jacaerys/Aegon ii

Words: 1.1k

The royal and noble lords' hunting party rested in their fancy tents by the campfire. But they sneaked out into the dark and hid under a large elm tree far side of the Kingswood. The night breeze was cool and sent up the scent of pollen. The soft spring grass tickled their bare skin.

Their armor and woolen sweaters had been left behind in the camp. They couldn't risk building a fire either. "I’m fucking cold," the prince whined.

He unzipped his velvet coat so the spoiled prince could huddle in his arms. A shooting star streaked across the sky.

"Look, Egg." He pointed to the stars.

The prince rode on his lap, biting his neck and nibbling on his ear, and answered half-heartedly, "Look at what?"

"A shooting star just crossed over our tree."

"Star above an elm tree — sounds like the family sigil of some lousy knight." The silver-haired prince used his mouth to undo the buttons on his shirt which was adorned with a three-headed dragon, a cold hand creeping up on the younger's collarbones.

He was impassive, concentrating on studying the stars with his head tilted back.

The prince pouted for his neglect, but quickly figured out a way to chase his own fun. The older plopped the body down, untied the lacing, and licked his cock eagerly till it got thick and hard.

He finally stopped looking at the stars and ran his hand through the choppy, wavy hair, "Want to be fucked by me that bad, huh?"

The prince pulled the length covered in spit out of his mouth and sat up straight to kiss him, muffling his trash before he could say more. He laughed softly into the silver-haired's mouth and said nothing else, focusing on rubbing the prince's entrance and pushing himself in.

The prince drew back a few breaths after a particularly deep thrust, "Did it hurt?".

The silver-haired shook his head and panted, brokenly, “It’s almost like......like riding a horse."

He stared at the pretty face for a moment, admiring the prince's thirsty expression. Then suddenly he pinched him around the waist and powered up, fucking him so fast and deep, "Almost like riding a horse, you say?"

The prince let out a few uncontrolled lustful moans and immediately bit his lips. The guards could very likely be patrolling nearby. His fingers tightened around his shoulders, "More, more like riding a dragon ......"

"You are always desperate to ride dragons, day or night." He teased in exchange for a glare. But the anger quickly faded when he paced up and hit the spot every time. The prince grabbed him by the hair and was soon crying and groaning loudly over the violent bumps. Warmth returned to their bodies and the prince flushed beautifully.

"Keep your voices down, uncle. People may find out." He warned with a teasing tune.

"They won't. And if they did, they wouldn't..." He trailed off, and caught his breath again, "They wouldn't dare to say anything."

"You wanna be my whore so bad, don't you? That you actually want to be found out." He attacked even harder, burying himself deep inside the sweet wet-ass walls.

The prince moaned loudly, legs shaking. He was lost in pleasure too much to care about anything happening around them, "Yes, let me be your whore...God, it feels so good."

"I won't exactly call myself that." He teased, "Do you want me to finish inside, my slutty little whore?"

The older's voice was shaky and sobbing, "Yes, please. Let me have your seeds. Let me have all of them. Jace, Jacaerys..."

"I'm gonna fucking breed you." He gritted his teeth. He loved the way the prince called out his name hopelessly, "I'm gonna fill my pups into you. Would you like it that way?"

"Yes, yes. I'm so close, Jace." The silver-haired started to stroke his cock, "I'm, I'm about to cum."

"Then come." He wrapped his hand around his and stroked him until they both spilled.

Aegon tilted his head and let out a long breath.

"Egg," Jacaerys called him by his nickname, "Are you satisfied with this dragon?"

Aegon rested his chin on his broad shoulder, "My dragon." He said in Valyrian smiley.

Jace turned his face sideways, their cheeking pressing against each other, "Yours." He replied in their mother tongue as well.

He ducked a strand of his silver hair behind his ear, "You're so beautiful." He said, looking at him the same way he looked at the stars.

"You always say that to the girls after you've finished your fucking?" Aegon gave him a teasing look and got off of him.

Jacaerys frowned, "What girls?"

"Whores, maids, noble ladies, Baela..." He enumerated offhandedly as he put on his clothes back.

"Don't let Daemon hear what you just said."

"I am not THAT stupid. " Aegon said as he lay upon his chest, looking up at the night sky. Their fingers were entwined.

"How was she to kiss anyway?"

"How could I know? I've never kissed her before." Jace paused for a moment, "I've never kissed anyone before."

Aegon giggled as if he'd heard the court jester's funniest joke.

"I wasn't joking. I love you and you only." The young lover said in a particularly solemn voice.

"Uh-huh."

"No matter what happens, I always love you and hold on to you, I promise."

Aegon kept laughing until he was limp, which disturbed Jace a lot. Before he could protest, Aegon spoke up, "Can you promise me another thing, my love?"

"Yes?"

"Never say things like this to me again."

"You don't believe me?" Jace felt a bit hurt, “I meant what I said.”

"I believe every word of yours. But, ” He sounded weirdly sad, “it would kill me to think that one day you’ll tell others the same, telling them 'I miss you', telling them 'I always love you'".

"That's not fair." He wanted to say. But he remained speechless. He could only sit and watch as Aegon fell asleep. He could only sit and watch as his figure became transparent and faded in the air. He could only sit and watch as fate whistled past and took him away from him.

He would be betrothed to Baela to strengthen his mother's claim. He would declare war against the Green to revenge on his brother. He would call Aegon a traitor and usurper as if they were born enemies. He would hope to slaughter him himself and watch him burn in hell because he would burn right beside him. He just didn't know it yet at that time, a time as beautiful and fragile as crystal. But Aegon knew it better.

Even on their best days, he knew.

That they could never be. That it will never be.

[phatburd]

violence!: 4, 14, 22

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

If we’re talking about my most recent block, it was on Reddit where the dude tried to argue gender essentialism at me. Basically, he asserted that my call to write women like people was bullshit and that women should be written like women (weak and helpless). Yeah, I did not and do not have the emotional bandwidth to deal with that shit.

Even better though, when other people in the thread brought up Ellen Ripley as an example of where a role was originally written for a man but Sigourney Weaver was cast instead. The dude then stated he had never watched any of the Alien movies, but he read the Wikipedia article on Ripley and assumed she must be a boring and poorly written character because she was a woman.

Yeah, dude … delete your fucking account. All of your accounts, everywhere.

Tumblr blocks? Yeah, it was the Nth blog that posted the TOG van speech verbatim and declared JoeNicky to be the most perfect thing ever. Went into the blog, found their AO3, blocked that, then blocked their Tumblr. Because clearly this person and I have nothing to say to each other, and I’m tired and I get petty when I’m tired.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Making the bottom in an m/m ship extremely feminized, sometimes straight up infantilized. This isn’t to say there aren’t feminine gay dudes in RL, because there are. I’m talking about fan works.

I don’t know if it’s out of ignorance, sexism, misogyny, or just boring-ass heteronormativity, this idea that someone has to be the “girl” in a same-sex pairing. And every time I see it, I’m reminded of this little cartoon:

I don’t really get top/bottom discourse and especially the need to assign specific personality traits to the top or the bottom. It was something I set out to not do in my m/m Bessimu fics. I wanted to write them as equals, and I think I succeeded.

(FWIW, I see Bessimu as both being switches, because that’s more fun. I also find it hot to write Bessières as a power bottom dom and Murat as the submissive service top, and it’s not what one would expect when judging them by their public personas.)

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

From The Old Guard? Those three and a half thousand years that Andy spent alone as the only immortal on the planet (as far as anyone knows).

I’ve been wanting to explore that period and, yes, it’s fucking intimidating. Historical documentation is more miss than hit once you start going back to certain points in human history.

Three and a half thousand years is a really fucking long time. What did Andy do, where did she go? What did she see? There’s a lot of potential to mine there, and maybe I’ll do it someday.

For the Napoleonics? Joseph Fouché is a fucking amoral bastard, but I think people forget he tried to save Marshal Ney. Ney, being Ney, was either politically naive, stubborn, and/or he just wanted to fucking die already when he refused Fouché’s offer of fake papers and an passport to sneak out of France in the aftermath of Napoleon’s second abdication.

(I’ve also read that Laurent de Gouvion St. Cyr was the one who offered the passport and papers, so take the above with the proverbial grain of salt. St. Cyr did vote for exile in the final trial, which lends weight to that too.)

I also have a shitload of question marks around Bessières’ final years and the way it gets treated by academics, but that may be better off in a post of its own.

For Star Trek ... no one ever really talks about what kind of influence Sisko might have had on the Bajorans other than just being the Emissary/Space Jesus. Like, did baseball become a national sport and baseball leagues spring up all over the planet? Is there ticky-tacky Emissary merchandise one can purchase, like humans have in real life of the Pope?

(Sisko did show up on a pack of Bajoran tarot cards in Lower Decks, and I squealed over that, ngl.)

Thanks for asking! 😘

[iammissingautumn]

Since some people may be moving back over do you have any good recommendations of people to follow that are active? I have not been on tumblr for almost 2 years :'D

Ive been thinking this since I posted I made my original post. Especially since a lot of people appreciate direction! I’ll speak a lot to my moots and people I follow myself since I rejoined south park recently. I also don’t read a lot of fic so this will mainly be meta/shitpost writers and artists!

@lozislaw is an amazing artist that’s i’ve been admiring since the day I opened their blog. They also do writing! All can be found in their description. Check them out :> They’re a great moot of mine. Honored to get a follow back out of this all. Very main ship core (Style, bunny, creek, etc)

@roostertuftart Hey. this is my beloved. Rooster posts a lot of really good art and half runs an ask blog on insta @/ask_the_freedom_pals_sp which I’m hoping will return from the war sooner rather than later ! Big Style lover, bigger kyle lover

@candyunicornsateme - k2 queen. literally been posting k2 for at least four years and has amazing art.

@furu242 - best McCormick siblings artist out there. they’ve also been out here a long time and i love all their art. always hits me in the McCormick feels

@lunarincubus - dude my beloved, if you’re looking for intriguing stories that fuck with the characters and give them bits of trauma. Lunar’s the mf for you. I love her art, she just just started opening asks for a mushroom au she has and i’m in love with her art and takes. She loves a lot of Kyle/Wendy!

@currrsy - great art with such an animated style. focuses on the main boys!

@bbathsalts - the art style for this stan lover feels so homely. I lovb their stuff.

@bunytime - style enjoyer with some great art

@fayoftheforest - amazing and the most based meta of all time

@erratic-brainrot - good meta, reblogs, and just fun posts occasional based af art. beloved.

@styleweek - they’re starting this up soon, participate or follow what you see when it starts up!

@real-south-park-confessions - for all the real and true takes of this fandom. rep from all sides. it could even have rep from you!

@hollow-park - south park sims extended universe for all you sims lads.

@south-park-fanart-archive - for all fanart that’s long gone due to bans, deletes, or deactivations.

and don’t follow @bitzi-bee their art is too good and they’re too based but i can’t let them have this win.

[drawlfoy]

I can't tell you just how heartbroken Wonders of Ohio left me. I've only ever felt that way with one other fic, and even then WoO topped it. Unlike WoO, the other fic had a very clean cut ending to it (they both died at the end rip) so I wasn't left to my own thoughts about what could've happened after. Which might be why WoO has been absolutely haunting me for the past two days, it hasn't left my mind at all. I think about certain moments, the ending, oh god ESPECIALLY THE ENDING, AT LEAST once an hour. I get that familiar feeling of my throat drying up and my eyes begin to water when I think about it. Another reason being the way you write. I was able to immerse myself into the story and imagine what I was reading in my head, one specific case of this I remember was when Draco made Reader and himself late to school. When he was fidgeting in the passengers seat, his hair unkempt, I could almost see him. I imagined draco with his messy platinum hair, wearing a muggle polo shirt because its just so posh rich kid of him, nervous as he leaned over the middle compartment into the backseat as he performed that glamour spell. I've never been very creative and imaginative but with your writing it was easy for me. It reminded me of how I was able to do the same when reading the Harry Potter books, being able to almost live in that universe in my head was so refreshing. Anyways this is really long, SORRY, but when I saw that you also had a Tumblr (as I originally read your stories on AO3) I just had to look. I scrolled through your page for a while and I gasped when I eventually saw that you posted what you started on writing for a continued ending? (I don't know how to phrase it I'm sorry 😭) I read it and while WoO is still breaking my heart over and over again, I think I'll be able to think about it for longer than 5 minutes at a time without bursting into tears now. So thank you. 🩷

AHHH i’m so upset bc i typed out a whole response and the fucking tumblr app (count ur days staff) deleted it urghhh

anyway some points i’d like to hit (apologies for the length but i just wanted to give this the response it deserved):

1) first of all THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHABKYOU this was genuinely the highlight of my whole year. people like you are the reason i write and i’m being so genuine when i say that this message is like the kind of stuff i dream about getting as a writer. so in conc i’m kissing you on the mouth you didn’t need to but you wrote all of this out and for that i’m forever grateful

2) some thoughts on the ending: first of all IM SORRY lmaoo. i’ll let u in on a little secret: i actually originally planned on a completely different ending where y/n ended up using the box right off the bat and went back to england and spent the last half of the fic learning magic and interacting with the golden trio crew/the malfoys. i told this to a few writer friends and they made me realize that it wouldn’t be as useful in actually answering the silly question that i based the whole fic on (what would draco do if he was plopped in the middle of muggle america?). i decided then that i really was more interested in learning how draco’s character would develop as he came to love someone who was fundamentally differently from him (and didn’t first go through a change that departed from her basic character traits). from then on i realized that a happy ending wouldn’t involve either of them giving up their world at the end of the summer, since they needed to grow up a little bit (and at that point i was old enough to find the idea of giving up your entire life for a relationship at 18 completely terrifying). hence the sad ending…but i think in the long run it means that they end up having a much healthier dynamic later on!

3) if you want to know about what happened after the deleted scene you found: i left the ending so open because i always thought i’d come back to write another series where i explored what happened after, but i don’t think i’ll end up doing that so i’ll tell you what i was planning. i always imagined y/n eventually going to england after graduating and getting established in her career and learning magic (because like literally who wouldn’t if presented with that option). draco is just kind of like a stay at home husband who’s just psyched to be there.

4) thank you so so much for your note about how immersive WoO was!! i’m ngl i’ve always struggled with incorporating imagery into my work. i spent my formative years avoiding anything i considered to be purple prose and that really reflected in my writing. i’m not a super visual person so if i could mention the 3 details i think are important in each scene and could just get on with the meat of the plot, i would, so i’m so thrilled to hear that it was able to give you that experience as a reader despite the fact that i’ve always been worried that i can’t 🥹 thank you again for telling me all of this bc it genuinely warmed my heart i know that this is a little disjointed but oml this like made my day

ill stop talking now because i’m gonna get even more incoherent okok but thank you!!!!! <3

[mollysmonsters]

I posted 453 times in 2022

4 posts created (1%)

449 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thistlefly

@innytoes

@vickyvicarious

@bex-pendragon

@racethewind10

I tagged 228 of my posts in 2022

Only 50% of my posts had no tags

#leverage - 16 posts

#tiktok - 12 posts

#omg - 9 posts

#art - 8 posts

#boy meets world - 6 posts

#star trek - 5 posts

#star trek picard - 5 posts

#muppets - 5 posts

#movies - 5 posts

#doctor who - 5 posts

Longest Tag: 137 characters

#but not as much as i think about alice wu crying with her best friend who couldn't be her best friend anymore because his girlfriend felt

My Top Posts in 2022:

#4

I wish the lyrics for Disenchanted were better honestly fuck Ronald Reagan

0 notes - Posted December 1, 2022

#3

2021 fic year in review

QuTotal Number Of Posted Works: 32

Total Word Count: 9573

Fandoms I’ve Written In: Camelot, Boy Meets World, The Wizard of Oz, Kim Possible, The Barkleys of Broadway, New Girl, Leverage, The L Word, Red White and Royal Blue, Star Trek: TOS, Some Like It Hot, First Blush, Harry Potter, Pretty Little Liars, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Dirty Rotten Scoundrels, Star Trek: DS9, Star Trek: Voyager, Glee, Dawson’s Creek

Looking Back, Did You Write More Fic Than You Thought You Would This Year, Less, Or About What You’d Expected: Definitely more. 32 is an awful lot of fics, even if most are drabbles.

What’s Your Own Favorite Story Of The Year: Probably Agent Stiletto. It’d been in my ideas folder for a long time and I was clearing out said folder when I said, “Maybe I should delete this. I mean, am I ever going to write it?” Then I kept having ideas the next two days and wrote it.

Did You Take Any Writing Risks This Year: It feels like yes, but I can’t point to anything specific.

Do You Have Any Fanfic Or Profic Goals For The New Year: I mostly want to focus on writing plays (at least half of which will be adapttions/fanfics), but I don’t want to leave this all behind. Plus I want to finally finish my NaNo 2019 fic.

Most Popular Story Of The Year: Depending on the metric, either Shower Scene or Holding Eliot Back.

Story Of Mine Most Under-Appreciated By The Universe, In My Opinion: I fully understand why but Quantity Time is really cute and has only 3 hits.

Most Fun Story To Write: Again, probably Agent Stiletto.

Most Unintentionally Telling Story: The Beginning. I didn’t even realize I was shipping Cory/Topanga/Shawn that much until...well, until I did.

Biggest Disappointment: That I haven’t finished A Flash of Cold.

Biggest Surprise: That I actually wrote Agent Stiletto instead of letting it languish in ideas for forever.

My Favorite Part Of Fandom This Year: Joining the Leverage fandom for sure. Y’all are great.

My AO3

1 note - Posted January 1, 2022

#2

Working on a “some Doctors fuck, some don’t” theory and while I’m waffling about some of them, there’s no doubt in my mind about 12. That dude fucks.

For the record, my inclinations right now are:

9: Would but has too much recent trauma. Watched Jack and Rose once.

10: Yes.

11: No.

12: YES.

13: No.

3 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Anyone got any recommendations for good Star Trek podcasts?

8 notes - Posted February 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[proxyposting-yb]

((Oh god damn it. This rant ended up way longer than I thought. Just uh... don't look at it I guess. I don't know.

I'm sure you will see the LENGTH of this thing in your notifs and maybe go all

"Oh shit. Oh fuck. They lost their marbles. They're blowing up at me. The house is on fire! Run everybody!"

Which. Uh. Maybe. But part of me is writing and then my brain goes "oh wait there's MORE! We must not leave this out!!" and now we have a collossus here so uh.. yeah.

I mean I got a lot of thoughts sorted out typing this so I'm not deleting it but uh... fuck it. Posts the thing.

Sorry for the scare, Lynn. Let it not be said that I have good self control. Lol. ))

---

"Y/N isn't all that amazing as his rose colored view has led him to believe."

"He'd realize they aren't his love after all."

---

....He isn't a normal guy.

He's the "Made to Love You" no matter what guy. The "you can NEVER escape my love" guy. The "I will do ANYTHING for you" guy.

The "I will burn down an orphanage for you" guy. The "I will fill graveyards full of cities for you" guy.

If you were a cannibal or a serial killer, he wouldn't give a shit.

If you were a demon he would not hesitate to follow you into hell guy. If you were an eldritch entity that would melt his brains the moment he saw you, he said

"That's such a wonderful way to go, wouldn't it~"

---

"Punch me, kick me, pull my teeth out, yell at me, call me names, burn my house down. I'd welcome it all with open arms.

However, there is no getting rid of me <;3"

---

Changing your mind about someone you THOUGHT you love is completely out of character for him.

That's the kind of character arc you'd get for an ordinary human messed up stalker guy who ISN'T Made To Love You.

"Oops she's a dick. I don't love her anymore. Time to kill her!"

Shit like that is what he's specifically built NOT to do.

---

Like, the purpose he's in this game is to prove how much he loves you, even if it's through twisted means.

He would definitely get more unstable but in a

"Clings closer to you and maybe ties you up" way

Or "blames everyone else and goes on a revenge fuelled killing spree" way.

And then you probably get karma when you realize you can't leave or when he bites off more than he can chew, and your enemies pile up and overpower the both of you.

---

Actually, one thing that is pretty obvious in the tumblr but not in the game is his sadomasochism. In the abuse routes case, his masochism.

He's literally the kind of guy who would get turned on if you yelled at him.

Lines like

"You're so cute when you're mad."

"You're so feisty! I love it.."

" ... Did I ever tell you how nice it is to hear your voice like this? (You telling him he's trash I guess) It's just you and me now, and I have all the time in the world. Never stop being you."

---

And yes. I get it. Rat is an Innocent baby that has never hurt anyone.

Forcing him to abandon Rat is a special kind of hurt that hits different compared to him killing someone you know.

But at the end of the day, YOU are his devotion.

If he's gonna avoid you or punish you for being the kind of dick that would purposely do things to hurt him. A thing that would make complete sense for A NORMAL PERSON. Which he isn't.

It's just one of those moments where it's like..

"You stalked me for months. You should have known what kind of person I am, especially under duress.

You watched me be a dick to everyone in my life and went out of your way to buy furniture, my favourite snacks and books, kidnap me and bring me home.. just to decide that me being a dick is too much for you? What??"

---

To be honest, I kinda half expected the abuse route to be YN going hogwild, trashing his house, yes hurting rat too and trying to beat the shit out of him.

I mean. You want asshole right. Have you seen the kind of asks the tumblr gets?

---

In my head, the game is about exploring extremes, how he would respond to different personalities.

Which.. I mean, I get they can't cover everything and by now I know they're just kinda doing all this for fun and a lot of criticism will prob just fly through their head but..

Why am I writing this?

Simply because I can, tbh. Let it not be said that I have good self control. I don't.

They did have him comment on stuff when we wandered through the house though. Something that wasn't there in a previous update. So that's neat.

---

I KNOW the team and many fans have a special soft spot for the little baby and would never want to see them hurt. Give her plot armor for the time being then. I don't know.

"The devs don't want to hurt Rat! She's innocent! He will let you do this because he loves you but WE WON'T!!"

Game crash. Boom.

---

I mean he has already pivoted into a character that doesn't match the tumblr by day 3.

Its still sad to see even more ways he diverts from what he originally was. That's all I guess.

Space -

So they did a stream of the abuse route up till day 4.

This wasn't the route where he had coffee poured on him so I didn't see that.

---

The most notable thing is probably when YN asked YB to "get rid of Rat".

Though for me, the part that upset me the most was that he basically shut himself in his room and tried to avoid you.

---

Yes I get he's upset that you basically sentenced Rat to death but I never expected YB to be someone to TURN DOWN spending time with you, even if you're a jackass.

I mean. He's made for you so it's kinda.. I kinda assume your jackassery would be "part of the charm" for him. He may crack but I see him as someone who does things to cling closer to you when he snaps, not hide from you.

It's wild, he killed for you, drives 3 hours to see you, then gets turned off by your attitude within ONE day and turns down spending time with you. Bro. Dude.

You force yourself into his room (he actually tries to hold the door closed), fall and hit your head and end up tied up in your basement.

---

He pressures you to tell him if you love him with a knife. You have no choice but to nod. He carves into you with a knife because... uh..

-Oh, if I carved myself it's only fair as a couple if you have my name on your skin too!-

Which.. no. That's not him. It was completely non consensual as well.

---

This isn't YB in those scenes. I don't recognize that character. They mentioned that someone else wrote that one scene where he tries to keep you out of his room and I'm just... yeah. I can see the difference.

Lynn: In my head, I can see the situation with Rat being a point where it makes him see that maybe...just maybe...Y/N isn't all that amazing as his rose-colored view has led him to believe. This would be a great moment for his character to take time to self-reflect on things and really let him use his head by thinking things through this moment of clarity. ...But no. He doesn't get that. He gets robbed of a moment that could make his character more human, hell, it's a moment that would even benefit Y/N because he'd realize they aren't his love after all, and instead...He gets dropped into the crazy pit and sense is thrown out the window. All I can really say is this.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

An Angel and A Demon ~ Pyramid Head x Reader

Update 2: My laptop restarted when I was in the middle of writing this, and trust me when I say it, I am positively pissed off, and I want to end my days, that's how bad of a day this was.

And I didn't leave the house.

That says a lot about today...

Update 1: But, without further ado, I was half-way writing this story, and I received this ask, and let me tell you...

helloooo, i absolutely adored the fanfics you wrote about kazan and danny🥺 could i request one where pyramid head is just really whipped for and in love with the survivor! reader but he doesnt know how to announce it to them so he brings her random ,,gifts" in and outside the trials and protecting her bc well, im pretty sure he cant speak so he doesnt really have any other options on how to express his feelings??

I live for it.

Bless you for sending me this, it's the reason I'm still sane right now.

I love you, baby-cakes.

Update 3: I want to kill myself so bad. Just smash my head on a wall until it explodes or sth. I was so happy with how this imagine turned out, only fuck fucking tumblr to just fucking delete EVERYTHING just as I was about to put the last gif and hit POST NOW.

--------

For the 5th time writing this :

FUCKMEDADDY - but this time - FUCKMYBRAINSOUTPLEASEIWANNADIE

Thanks.

-------

Hell - What was that place, anyway?

Some would describe it as an infinite ocean of flames and lava, where it's eternally melting-hot, and a bunch of hooved, horned, tailed red demons torture you with acid, with their red pitch forks, or boil you alive in their cauldron for soup. Or maybe you just get tortured by Stalin, who knows?

But never would have anyone thought that 'Hell' could look so...Normal. Well, normal in a very demolished, desolate, ravished way, but still...Normal, by human standards. Albeit, the never-ending loop of madness, anguish, agony and desperation of getting killed in different gruesome ways or fleeing for their lives and feeling a myriad of emotions pumping adrenaline through their veins so badly that their anxiety-meter skyrocketed to abnormal levels.

All this darkness, this hatred, this...Everything...It changed all the survivors. They became selfish, stubborn, rude, some even went as far as to sacrifice their fellow survivors in trials, just so they could survive. It was a complete mayhem that defied all kinds of reason, normality, morality or even ethics. Everyone became devoid of any laws that used to bind them to their humane sides, and now, you weren't sure if the killers were saner than the survivors or not.

But even in this abyss where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your very eyes, there was a little star - A beautiful angel radiating brightness and warmth, someone who was somehow able to guide everyone's straying souls with her benevolence.

In reality, she was merely a survivor, not the little lantern from an angler fish's head, but she treated everyone with such an untainted kindness...It was beautiful, and yet, unrequited for most parts. Everyone was still putting their own lives above all - And who could condemn them? - Perhaps their cowardice, for the girl preferred to save her fellow survivors as much as possible, even if that oftentimes assured her place on the hook, to be a sacrificial lamb for the Entity.

On the other hand, she rarely ended up on the hook - Most killers prefer to kill her themselves, instead of letting her become pray for the horrible Entity who tortured so many of them for refusing to cooperate - The Trapper, Evan MacMillan - He knew the best, with those hooks digging into his flesh, impossible to extract. He was the first to protect this girl. It wasn't much, but if he had to, he'd rather give her a swift, painless death, than seeing her without that serene, angelic smile on her face, as the Entity feeds on the last bits of her soul's beauty, the last parts of her humanity.

The other Killers were confused at the Trapper's actions, but little by little, they began to understand why this girl was so precious and special - And this domino effect hit Rin Yamaoka next, with Y/N stopping in the middle of a chase and taking off her jacket, just as Rin was about to butcher her with her katana, and she smiled, extending it to her. 'You must be cold' she said, realising that the Spirit was merely wearing a few bandages, not even her school uniform, or her kimono.

The ghost girl was shaken up by this, and told the others at the killer camp, but they just shrugged it off - Rin was a little girl who faced close to no kindness, they weren't surprised she was so taken aback by such a feat. That is, until Adiris, in a particularly terrible day, when everyone at the camp was staying away from her, as her profane censer wasn't able to cover the stench of rotting flesh - Y/N came over, taking out a small yet elegant glass bottle with pink liquid on it, spraying some on her - And now, The Plague smelled of roses and vanilla - 'You can come to me for perfume whenever you want, I always carry some with me!' she grinned at the Babylonian High Priestess, before leaving back to the survivor's camp site, leaving the ancient God symbol to stare with her mouth agape at the girl.

These words began to spread, and it was no surprise when the killers saw Susie clinging and begging her Legion friends to spare Y/N, for she was there to hug away her worries more than once, to tell her sweet words, to play with her hair and play the guitar whatever songs she wanted to hear, to get reminded of her home - She was so home sick that she freaked out, but now she was better, thanks to Y/N - 'I know you miss home, but sometimes, home is where your best friends are, and all three of them are here!' she tried to encourage the cute pink-haired girl who could only squeal and hug her new friend.

Even Ghostface wasn't exempt from falling to her charms, and they would often take silly selfies and mess around, making fun of the old horror movie tropes and doing lots of puns and pranks - So much that she even got his trust to be told about the Danny/Jed thing, and how he began his killer profession - 'You're a very talented photographer, Danny! You deserved all that recognition you got, both as a journalist, and as a killer!'

And very soon, Y/N found herself in the crushing arms of an overprotective Anna, humming her mother's lullaby together with walking through the forest, Y/N making flower crows for all the female killers at the camp site, and little by little, she somehow managed to worm her way under everyone's skins.

Y/N was the survivor with the highest survivability percentage, and maybe the Entity sometimes got pissed off, but at least she still got killed sometimes, so who cares? Well, that was soon to change as soon as a new Killer was added to this sick game - Pyramid Head, the terror of Silent Hill, as Cheryl, the new Survivor, called him - or The Executioner, as he was known now. He was ruthless, merciless, grotesque - He had his own criteria of killing, his own moral compass, ethics, conscience and understanding of the concept of life and death. Nothing that could compare to the visions of humans, clearly - Everything was gravitating around Divine Retribution and Justice, but the from the outside, he was nothing but a killing machine.

He would kill everyone and anyone that crosses his path, without fail.

Y/N felt like her fortune ended completely the second she found herself in the new, overly cramped map, with Pyramid Head as the killer - She couldn't help but run around like a spazzic meerkat, trying to find and fix as many generators as possible, without having to get face to face with the walking hazard...

Only to run past a stuck Pyramid Head.

Slowly backtracing her steps, she saw the mountain of a man with his metal pyramid stuck in the frames a low window which he tried to walk over. He was trashing like a raged bull trying to attack a matador, but it was clear he was getting nowhere with this.

"H-Hey, u-uhm...Need some help?" she asked in a soft, careful voice, almost like a meek cat trying to test the waters, but in return, he started groaning even louder from the wrath he wanted to unleash upon the whole world. "Okay, uhm...I think I saw a can of vaseline in one of the chests around. I'll go fetch it and I'll come back for you. Don't move." she said, only to then realise how horrible that sounded, considering the situation, and it only seemed to anger the killer. "...I'm sorry, ignore me, I'm an idiot." she slapped herself pretty harshly before bolting out of there trying to find the chest.

However, Y/N cursed herself for not having perfectly memorised the whole map by heart already, since she found the vaseline can after the 3rd chest, and then, it took quite a while to find the bloody window that got the killer stuck - And by the time she got there, she was dead tired. "Okay, I'm here, I found the vaseline! Let's try to get you out of here." Y/N muttered as she put her feet on the low window pane to get to his level. "If it's not too much trouble, could you please hold onto me? I can't balance myself with both hands occupied, and I'd rather not fall." she explained as she opened the vaseline can, only to shiver as she felt two big, strong hands getting a firm grip on her hips. It was almost...Endearing, were she not too busy trying to get the killer unstuck. She kept massaging the metal edge, trying to push and pull, also praying to whatever deity that existed in her human world that she had her tetanus shot done on time - Until finally, she was able to get hear a loud screech, like a pop, and the killer got unstuck, and in the process, he stumbled backwards, while Y/N fell down on her butt.

"Ouchie..." she muttered, rubbing her back and sides to take away the pain surging through her body. "Are you okay?" she asked, almost intuitively, without realising it at first, until she heart a low grunt that brought her back to reality. "O-Oh...! You have glass shards stuck in your side! And you're bleeding too! Hold up, let me help." she hurried to his side, while the killer merely stiffened, feeling her delicate, slender fingers tracing his body, while he heaved and slouched his shoulders from the repressed wrath. "It may sting a bit, and I'm really sorry, but I promise it will be better soon." her voice was so motherly and warm, which also resonated in her actions, as she gingerly took a water bottle and imbued some tissues with it, to wipe away the blood smearing down his skin as she extracted the glass shards, and then..."This is grandma's marigold ointment. It's really good, and it smells nice." she explained as she carefully smeared a thick layer of the yellow ointment on the biggest wounds, while the little ones were covered by smiley-flower patterned plasters. They were cute, and colourful, and they never failed to make her smile. "Okay, there we go, all better! I hope you'll feel better very soon!" her voice got a tiny bit more cheerful and upbeat.

It made the Killer think about a trillion things, as he stepped in front of her, towering over her like the Empire states building next to a smiling pomeranian. What was with this girl? Why did she help a killer? And why did he feel so...Warm inside? He could sense a foreign kind of luminosity, a naivite and innocence that he only witnessed in children and animals. This woman in front of him was untainted by the darkness and evil of the world.

It didn't matter how many hardships she's been through, or how much sadness she had to endure - Her soul remained as pure as any snowdrop, as the first snow of winter, as the fleece of a baby lamb who let out its first 'meeeeh' to its mamma sheep.

He couldn't allow this human to be maimed in any way - Not by the world, not by the Entity, and certainly not by him. - Screw the Entity, Pyramind Head kills by his own rules, and now, he was blessed to be faced with a human who bore no real hatred for her peers, or for the world, despite the horrible situation she was thrown into.

He didn't understand, obviously, especially as he remembered the myriad of abominations that lurked through Silent Hill, all of them created by the torment of humans - The very torment that distorted their own reality, which resulted in him needing to solve the purpose as The Executioner - Eradicating the world of all evil.

"Th-This sword is so heavy...H-How can you carry this around like that...?! Your muscles must be so strained and sore...Y-You really need a massage, I'm sure." she stuttered as she tried to lift the much taller and heavier sword from the ground, only for the brute to simply bend and pick it up with extreme ease, putting the girl to shame with her complete lack of strength. "Hehe...You're really strong. I'm embarrassed now." she chuckled softly, scratching the back of her neck.

Before she could leave or do anything else, Pyramid Head picked her up by the throat, careful not to hurt her or restrict her air intake - I mean, how else was he supposed to carry her so he wouldn't hurt her with his metal head or sword? - and it was pretty clear she didn't feel any malevolence from him, as she clinged on his forearm, trying to keep herself up, only to be dumped on top of the hatch, as the killer pointed towards it, so she would leave.

"O-Oh...! Thank you so much! You're really kind! I really appreciate this...I-I know it probably doesn't matter much to you, since you'll be doing this over and over again with all the survivors...But I really appreciate you for your kind gesture, and I appreciate you for being so nice with me. Thank you. Take care!" her dazzling smile lit the whole place up, but he couldn't talk, nor could he tell her how he should be the one thanking her for showing him that, despite the hundreds and thousands of years he had to roam the 'Earth' and execute the injust, miracles still existed.

As soon as she reached the survivor's camp, everyone cheered for her, asking how in the world could she have escaped the wrath of the butcher. "Oh, but he wasn't that bad. In fact, he's much more humane than I anticipated! I think he has a beautiful, blooming heart!" okay, she's lost it - the other survivors thought - but even so, she's always been a bit...Out of it, so who cares?

It took quite a while for the other three survivors to reach the camp, all bloody, in fact, like the new killer, who dragged himself with the same menace to the Killers' camp. "How the hell did you manage to survive?!" they yelled at her in utter shock, seeing that she got out of there unscratched. "Oh, you see...I found the hatch." she shrugged simply, not wanting to give away that the person who massacred those three was a soft one and he basically threw her down the hatch to her safety.

As she took a twig to roast a marshmallows, she noticed how Pyramid Head was standing much farther away from the rest of the killers - She knew that silent killers were bound to stay away from the more obnoxious one, remembering how Michael Myers almost killed Ghostface and The Legion at least a dozen times - But this time...He seemed kinda...Lonely? So Y/N took the matters into her own hands, roasted another marshmallow in another twig, and when it was done, she went to the killer's camp, calling out the lonely one's name - She has no idea why, but he actually followed her, pushing her further deep into the forest, until he was sure nobody was going to hear, see or interrupt them...

"Hey. You seemed pretty lonely out there...I thought you could use a friend. Thank you again for what you did at the trial...Here, this is a marshmallow. I don't think you've had many before...Cheryl told me of that horrible place you had to live in...So I hope this will make your day a bit better!" Y/N extended one of her hands towards him, so he could take the marshmallow - And a long, black tongue erupted from underneath the pyramid, snatching away the fluffy marshmallow and gulping it in one go.

What the hell was he turning into?

A towering man built of pure muscle, wrath and divine justice, with a pyramid representing the evil of humanity burdening his body, and a sword taller and heavier than the average human being constantly dragged in one of his hand...He now was a slave to a cute, innocent girl who was putting flower plasters on his minuscule wounds that would heal in a heartbeat regardless - He saved this girl who was now offering his these soft, squishy things that tasted overly sugarly, just like her upbeat and cheerful personality - If he could eat her, he was sure she would taste even sweeter than this - A sickish kind of sweet, that is.

She was indeed a beautiful angel in this tragic hell. But he didn't wait to snatch the second marshmallow either.

"Ah...! You liked it, didn't you? Well...Next time, I promise I'll give you more!" she grinned at him the same way a princess would to her chivalrous knight who saved her. The since he couldn't talk, silence took over them - It wasn't an uncomfortable one, per se, but it made it feel as if the conversation was over. "W-Well...I'll guess I'll see you around! Take care and I hope to see you again soon!" she waved cutely, trying to turn around back to her camp, only to feel a rough hand on her shoulder, turning her around and urging her to stop and wait for him and he went deep into the forest, leaving her alone and undefended by the potential malevolent forces of the forest.

When he returned, however, he stepped right in front of her, creating the perfect shade as he towered over her - Then he kneeled in front of her, so he would reach her eye sight, then he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and put a beautiful pink flower - As pink as the blush that started creeping on her face - He wanted to see her luminous face better, to highlight her dazzling smile and her glimmering eyes as the warm, silver light of the mother moon caressed her face.

Y/N felt her heart picking up the pace - It was beating so much faster than ever before - But this time, it wasn't out of fear or anything negative...It was something good. Something she never felt in her life, especially with her human acquaintances from back home. None was as chivalrous and gentle with her as this butcher of tormented souls - The bringer of justice, the merciless Executioner who was supposed to end the life of every living being that would cross his path.

It was insane how every Yin finds its Yang, even if that comes in the form of a little lamb of a small, frail girl, and a huge abomination of a brute man who knows nothing but death, bloodshed and carnage. It was truly crazy how opposites attract, and here she was, holding the killers large hands and gingerly putting them on her face, leaning into his touch - She felt safer now than ever in her life - Now, in the arms of an ancient killer.

An Angel and A Demon brought together in a perfect union.

As she leaned down, she touched the metal of the pyramid where she anticipated his forehead would be with her own forehead, and closing her eyes, she finally felt herself calming down. There was no need for words, actions spoke louder than anything, and she appreciated it...She appreciated him.

"Thank you." she whispered to him, knowing that yes, even though nobody else would hear it anyway, it was much more intimate than anything she ever experienced.

She was hooked.

Hope you liked my completely shameless pun, I couldn't stop it, especially after the pain I went through trying to write this...3 freaking times.

Yay.

[olderthannetfic]

Re: Fanlore, I feel like my feelings on this is tied up in my perception of Academic Fandom as suffering from all the foibles of Cultural Anthropology x1000. Where half the time when I encounter Acafan writing I’m left wondering “do you even go here?” Tbh I honestly don’t want Academia in its present state anywhere near a project like Fanlore.

--

Too bad that OTW keeps putting the most wiki-illiterate of acafans in charge of it then.

And yes. It's so bizarre because I know tons of acafans. They're great! I know what their fandoms are! They do go here, at least for some values of "here"... But I've seen some of those hot takes too.

I was talking about Fanlore's disastrous management with somebody else, and it hit me that what I think is really going on is less about academic outsiders and more about a phenomenon outlined in an ancient piece of fannish meta I read back in the early 00s on the Fanfic Symposium. In fact, it has it's own Fanlore article! (LOL)

Nobody Ever Admits They're a BNF by Hope

It sucks to get known in fandom. It really does! It sucks when you want to delete your stuff and other people have saved it. It sucks when randos you've never heard of have an opinion on you. It really sucks when they treat you like a celebrity or think you owe them something. It feels weird and it feels bad to be seen as History by other people because that means that your dumb club hobby thing you did with a couple of friends is now considered public property, open for the hoi polloi to comment on.

But too fucking bad!

If the committee manages to muzzle Fanlore with stupid policies, that won't change how community-based fandom history recording works: people will still be making their rant and meta posts and writing up their memoirs. They'll still be having opinions BNFs don't like, and they'll still be screenshotting people's dumb posts and saving them

I hear Fanlore wants to move to more summarizing and less quoting, but the reality is that it's often not what a fan said but how they said it that matters. The phrasing tells you a lot, and that's what Fanlore should be documenting.

I encourage people to post whatever the fuck they want to tumblr using the tags 'fandom meta' and 'fandom history'. You don't need all the citations: just say "This is how I remember it" or "I'm not sure, but I think..."

[bitter-sweet-coffee]

look idek what warning to put here, but there's like, a novel and a half below the cut that's just... 6 hours of me going on tangents i never finish or clarify. no proofreading. no organization. it's absolutely not worth your time. but... i literally spent so long writing it that if i don't hit post it'll somehow be even more pointless?!?

basically there are no positive outcomes in any scenario with this post but the only remaining tragedy achievement is me writing all this and then deleting it. what proof will i have that i wrote nonsense for HOURS to avoid my research because i double dosed my meds and had too much caffeine?!? i gotta save this for the memories because no one will believe me if i tell them i live a fucking crazy life and use this as an example.

also for the record i'm goin thru it psychologically at the time of writing this. like, mania-turned-psychotic-episode, overstimulated, disassociated, exhausted, and currently procrastinating a LOT of serious things which only adds to my stress and scatterbrained gibberish. so like... please be kind but also don't get all freaked out either; i have enough psychological control rn to assure you i'm fine and this is just how i am sometimes... but i usually don't make extensive posts online during my more unstable periods. i gotta use the internet rn anyways tho so who's gonna stop me from hyperfocusing on the WRONG tasks?!? 🤪

okay, just had to say all that, and if you think my disclaimer is long? honey... you don't even have a big storm coming just keep scrolling and don't look back. don't click read more. it's not just "read more" like, it's MORE. a LOT more. too much. and like, there's literally nothing valuable there it isn't like my usual longposts that have a point or vague coherence. it was simply a huge waste of my time and it'll be an even bigger loss for you.

i can't even recommend mental stability as armour or a requirement since taking that away from you will make me feel bad, so if you're healthy please don't damage yourself with this.

ADMISSION REQUIREMENT: freaks, executive dysfunction regulars, people in boring classes, insomniacs, and sadists can proceed. and i'm STILL sorry to y'all because i didn't enjoy this either.

... so tell me why social media discourse takes itself more seriously than these people.

i've had profs with multiple doctorates and influential publications that changed academic discussions forever who like, roleplay deltarune characters on discord with students to avoid marking papers or cancel the last 2 weeks of class because they don't want to do 9 am lectures and know that we're all busy and probably gonna skip anyways. profs who change their mind and take assignments out of the syllabus since no one wants to do them and they don't wanna mark them. profs who forget their own publication deadlines because they were reading fanfiction, profs who hate the university administration more than you do, profs with mental health issues, queer profs, profs who play video games, or have tumblr, or make spotify playlists for every lecture and think the grading system is stupid, profs who hand out extensions if you ask because they weren't going to mark them all at once anyways, and profs who assign weekly pdf articles instead of big books and 300 dollar textbooks— even their own— because they're exhausting to read and super overpriced.

so many instructors in english literature are shifting away from academic essays and towards multimedia creations and fun writing prompts. "i don't want to read a 30 page research essay when i can read a brief informal paragraph explaining how this video game has the same vibes as this anonymous poem!" and "you can record a podcast or paint a picture or write fanfiction or do a minecraft letsplay as a character or honestly? do whatever you want as long as there's passion with coherent thoughts behind it!" and "word limits are stupid because adding nonsense to drag out your argument makes the paper worse: write whatever comes naturally as long as you sufficiently explain your argument but please don't make me read 70 pages in a 200 level course this is supposed to be easy on everyone"

i'll be real with you: academics are fucking bored. the content is stale. students dismiss profs because they seem like pretentious assholes who don't care about who/what they teach, but 99.9% of the time profs only seem dry and unapproachable because no one reciprocated their enthusiasm, and it was super awkward during classes, so they stopped trying.

some younger profs haven't stopped trying because they understand and haven't gone numb to their own content yet, and it's so painful to watch them put out good vibes and get ghosted by hostile students too focused on marks or checking things off their to-do list when the profs themselves would prefer conversations over the stupid assignments they're required to give you.

we talk about gamers, artists, other freelancers, musicians, thespians, dancers, and so many other career paths that require sacrifices, risks, and prejudice THAT I AM NOT DISMISSING but at least there are people acknowledging the isolation, instability, mental and physical health issues, social-wide neglect, and resilience of these people. to some extent anyways. people who break free from the mold and do something they love in spite of the consequences?

well, haha, if you voluntarily pay a fuckton of money and spend the duration of your 20's in school when everyone around you is actually earning money from jobs or at least enjoying their friday nights THERE IS SOMETHING DEEPLY WRONG WITH YOU!!! even if you get placement, if you don't have tenure (hard to get) the faculty is gonna dump extra shit on you that needs to be perfect or say goodbye to your crappily paid job. do you know how many publications and conferences and deadlines and actual work goes into that crap?!? you're supposed to answer questions no one in your field gives a FUCK about with no guidance or support or outline even though everyone is demanding you get your research done and then they're never happy with it. the elders in your field hate you (a cycle that hasn't been broken yet because those older esteemed people with tenure were in your boat once too) and i have a feeling no one outside the academic world likes you either since you're too hard to understand, pretentious, have no life, etc...

oh and on top of that? you gotta teach a bunch of people who don't wanna be in your class, hate the content because a) another instructor ruined it for them or b) it's a degree requirement and tbh you probably didn't have a choice either since 9/10 times this isn't what you wanted to teach and/or the faculty admin made you include it anyways. all that other work? well now you have to grade shit that a bunch of people didn't wanna write: even if profs have TA's to help with grading they're still required to handle a chunk of it and also deal with TA questions/concerns/regradings/pissed students/policies they're confused about that you're ALSO confused about. oh and a bunch of stupid questions since people don't read instructions and decide blame you for that?

also... do you know HOW FUCKING HARD IT IS TO TEACH??? you have to like, triple understand it and predict/plan for every fucking misunderstanding/question/problem that you can think of. including stupid questions. you'll also get a lot of people who ask things you either don't have the answer for or have the answer for but someone doesn't like it. and even if you're a flawless instructor who can handle every academic/behind the scenes/personal/basic human responsibilities or task (unlikely but i know profs who come close for at least 2 of those) someone is gonna be a dick about it.

... that dick is probably a student who is pissed they had to actually go to at least one lecture, semi pay attention, and read assignment instructions to get a good mark.

... brats who get mad about deadlines because they have other responsibilities and need extensions who go batshit insane when marks aren't released yet

... some y'all aren't gonna like this one: disabled students who say academia is ableist and profs are always evil if they don't accommodate and show sympathy because mental/physical health hinders their performance... but the thought that their prof might be disabled never crosses their mind. just like how you don't need to disclose that information, they don't either! profs can be neurodivergent. they can have conditions you aren't aware of. suffer from chronic pain. are battling an illness you don't know about. they can have mental illnesses. trauma. so many other examples, and this isn't a disability per say but THEY CAN HAVE PERSONAL EMERGENCIES TOO. maybe it's menstrual cramps, executive disfunction, someone close to them died, they relapsed on SH or addiction, are being abused or have been abused in the past, forgot their meds that day, cried all night, couldn't get out of bed, their favourite/comfort character died so they're feeling sick and can't focus on the lesson, didn't have time to eat because a loved one needs them, got triggered by the subject matter and don't know how to teach it, have a surgery next weekend and are worried about giving extensions since they won't he able to grade/put your marks in before THEIR deadline, had a bad interaction or just woke up feeling like crap so they're crossing their fingers the lecture runs smoothly, only to get shitty emails or bullied on rmp?

and y'know what? i don't care if your prof seems like a dick, because we're open minded about those appearing to be rude who are actually victims that didn't receive enough support to to their personal experiences and/or generational/ethical conditioning... until they're a 60 year old white guy who rolls his eyes when someone slyly ask a question or counters something he said to "school him" and "prove he's an overpaid, outdated, problematic bigot." maybe it seems really badass to people who are 2 weeks into the course... but he's been correcting that crappy misinformation for 30 years and your "okay boomer" attitude couldn't be more misplaced; this guy has probably been in the field longer than your parents have been alive and you think he missed this obvious oversight after teaching this course for decades?

if you think for a second that someone like my imaginary prof has it easy because of gender/race/sexuality/religion/ableness there are so many flaws to you logic because a) you can't confirm any of that shit and b) do you think extensions, accommodations, and other resources were available when they were getting their degree or even during most of their lifetime? i mean shit, we're all about helping meemaw understand what pronouns are and how they're used until it's your prof who was beat by his dad and classmates because "university is for devil worshipping snobs and faggots! if you think you're too good for the family business you're dead to me" and thinks this is normal. it doesn't matter if his peers/instructors were all "cishet white men" (since no one else counted as a person and they couldn't be anything else anyways) because if they were all forcefed toxic masculinity and misinformation that literally no one else could correct, embracing the privilege was their only move.

yeah yeah this isn't limited to profs since it's a sloppy and reductive commentary on entire generations that i'm not putting enough effort into, so take it with a grain of salt and try to hear me out in good faith since i'm improvising as i write this in a very unstable state with no intentions of proofreading or ensuring my point is clear. basically, the privileges we acknowledge in others are not the only ones out there because WE have privileges they don't. if you want "privileged people who benefit from the prejudiced foundation of a society that oppresses and profits off of suffering minorities" feat. more social media hot take discourse buzzwords etc etc etc.

"fuck reductive labels because they're inaccurate and build on outdated western mentalities, but also i'm gonna continue to judge someone based on labels i give them because i 100% know a person's race/gender/sexuality/ableness/psyche/religion/other things i consider to be privilege better than they do because they don't know what these things are and if they do it's wrong!!!"

okay, maybe YOU can pick and choose queer content based on if a contributor has a "your fave is problematic" entry or if the representation is approved by the community, take "am i gay?" quizzes in middle school, overcome internal prejudices through social media discourse, learn ethics through fandom trial and error, see enough cancellations to understand what NOT to do, or get enough adhd tiktoks on your fyp to self diagnose/get a formal diagnosis/access medical support/read articles and understand the medical side of things to validate your experiences/practice coping mechanisms and google tips/talk to other people with adhd/work on accepting you aren't a defect who didn't try hard enough/receive accommodations/know you aren't alone even if your current environment doesn't accept you because other places and people do. maybe this segment is too long but you at least has the time and ability to read it, on an electronic device, which you can access almost any time btw, and it'll give you access to endless content (which is somehow even more endless if you download a vpn and switch regions: yeah, infinity plus infinity level shit. oh and that's like 1% of the internet we're using all the maths in this parentheses tangent that's within a tangent within a tangent multiplied by a billion more regressed all inside a whopping procrastination activity. yay me! ok no more meta shit i already forgot where this fragment/sentence/paragraph/section/rant was going 7 times now)

okay. maybe you got this far and are totally lost, and i have no way of knowing how extensive the psychological damage is because I'M not even reading this post, so the real conversation is between you and the words on your screen, i have nothing to do with this experience. my fingers may have typed everything so far but my brain has been playing shrek 2 the entire time, so this is your mental health check since there is no thesis or sense of direction but i'm exhausted despite not being mentally present unlike you. i am just typing words as they appear based on writing patterns and routine from when i'm awake.

^^^ that's not a joke or shitpost btw so even if i've led you to believe it is at some point, so i am gonna be fully transparent in the caplocked paragraph below. it is as close as you're getting to me, bitter-sweet-coffee or whatever name you know me by, being aware and in control of my actions for the entirety of this derailed rant:

OKAY, BEFORE WE RESUME OUR SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING, I AM FORCING MYSELF BACK INTO MY BODY AND STEALING BACK MY SENSE OF SELF JUST TO EMPHASIZE WHAT I'M ABOUT TO SAY, SO YOU KNOW I AM BEING HONEST. BABES, I AM REGAINING CONTROL OF MY PSYCHE TO ENSURE THAT AMIDST ALL THIS DISASSOCIATED WORDVOMIT, YOU CAN TRUST SOMETHING 100% THAT I ACTUALLY MEAN. A MOMENT IN THIS BITCH THAT MY LESS UNSTABLE SELF WILL ALSO AGREE WITH. CLARITY BURIED IN THE 11TH HOUR OF THIS NEVER-ENDING STREAM-OF-CONSCIOUSNESS WALL OF TEXT. MY DARLINGS, i have no fucking clue what this post is supposed to be. there was probably an outline or vague concept 3ish hours ago when i started, but good luck asking me what it is now! some parts read like a viral tumblr psa but there are way too many rushed ideas that branch into tangents and unanswered questions. yeah i know there's no fucking coherence, but even though i'm aware everything i'm putting online this week is extremely concerning, it doesn't make anyone feel better if i say i know or put disclaimers because instability makes people uncomfortable. yeah we like freaks on the internet and y'all expect this shit from me by now, but even this is too much for my shitposting reputation, because at least i typically have enough control over my brain to proofread or follow a train of thought. i mean shit, not even i'm following this and it's my writing, which isn't even the most confusing thing i'm able to decipher, so unless you're god or extremely unstable this is probably the most incoherent thing you've ever read or at least since beowulf... or like, french. or russian cursive. or doctor-handwriting. or flat earth conspiracies. or the code to sonic 06 because NO ONE knows what the fuck happened there. actually, if you've used wattpad or twitter there's a chance you can make sense of this, but if you use either of those apps enough to comprehend their contents you're probably not fluent enough in actual recognized languages to successfully open tumblr and get here in the first place. okay, i can't think of anymore jokes that aren't even good so let's move on! basically, i love y'all, and even if i know this post is a train-wreck of a mistake that will worry people, it ain't gonna stop me. sure i might be goofy, unstable, informal, and hard to understand, but i also have credentials as an academic, well-spoken, published, articulate, accomplished, REPUTABLE person when i need to be in formal settings offline. FOR THE RECORD that's not a flex: we know i don't do labels or ego stroking beyond semi-satirical rarepair supremacy jokes and sonic lore flexes. my genuine intelligence has been my saving grace because i just KNOW if people thought i was some american teen from tiktok with no formal education or career accomplishments who regurgitates misinformation they saw on twitter y'all would REPORT ME!!! I WOULD BE BULLIED OFFLINE! "who's this cunt with the bad takes?!?" followed by "no no dw it's just another bsc moment on tumblr" is so important to bring up rn because it's not supposed to be a brag guys, my educational reputation is all i have to justify the stupid shit i post on here 😭 if i didn't remind people i am smart and accomplished when i need to be you'd think this is all i'm capable of and conclude that my stupidity is my full potential... THIS ISNT EVEN MY FINAL FORM! gah, i'm getting imposter syndrome and this was supposed to be the shorter heart-to-heart in a "brief" intermission that turned into another derailment. alright, even if there are glimmers of big brain theses buried anywhere that just needed an author from a healthier time and place, we know damn well i'd procrastinate/overthink/forget them if i deleted or drafted this monstrosity for another day... also i'm on mobile we know tumblr won't fucking save this LMAO IF THIS DELETES OR THE APP CRASHES (if you're reading this it obviously didn't, so idk why i'm @ ing a nonexist target) I'M GONNA BE SO MAD EVEN THOUGH THIS IS GARBAGE, SO A GLITCH FROM TUMBLR WOULD DO EVERYONE A FAVOUR. ITS MY GARBAGE THAT I WASTED VALUABLE TIME AND ENERGY ON!!!

wow. i discovered the text-block limit, that's embarrassing. at least it forced me to finish a thought (kinda) and complete my moral takeaway from like, 3-5 thousand words ago. SO LET'S GET BACK INTO IT!

okay look, i'm not suggesting it's everyone's job to be a doormat to mean old professors. that was where this was going, right? because even though spent a really long time on privilege and how older generations that are stuck in their ways deserve more compassion, you shouldn't let some dude hatecrime people and torture students. generally speaking, you shouldn't write off bad behaviour as a trauma response because even though i believe everyone is a good person if they have enough support, compassion, resources, and are encouraged to want to change... bitch this isn't a fucking utopia we're living in a fucking death circus. the last thing on people's minds is giving harvey fucking weinstein a redemption arc even if that would fix some shit because awful people learning to be good people teaches growth and self awareness that leads to more accountability and prevents more bad people from hurting others because resources and normalized support and systemic causes for bad people blah blah blah even I'M sick of my own tangents.

actually... this proves my point— the most recent unfinished one that is. YEAH, WE CAN UNPACK THE MORALITY AND PROGRESSIVE IDEAL COURSES OF ACTION AND UTOPIAN TAKEAWAYS FOR EVERY FUCKING SITUATION. NOT EVERYTHING IS BLACK AND WHITE. NOTHING YOU SAY CAN EVER BE ALL-ENCOMPASSING BECAUSE WORDS ARE HUMAN INVENTIONS THAT ARE NOT DESIGNED TO ACCOMMODATE EVERY SCENARIO. YAY, MISQUOTED NIHILISTIC DERRIDIAN HOT TAKES FOR MY GAY SONIC BLOG, RIGHT?!?

we all get it (probably). everything has an exception. but, as i stare anxiously at my clock and try to calculate how many hours i've been typing for instead of working on my actual work that matters, it's kinda obvious:

we don't have the fucking time or energy to do in depth discussions for every conceivable thing. no position will ever be enough, no words will capture truth in its rawest form because humans... have no clue what the FUCK they're doing. language, arts, the scientific method: the tools we use to express ourselves, the very resources we rely on as we try to pinpoint something undeniable, something constant, the way we go about actually PROVING something??? we can't even fucking agree on those! we made maths and sciences and words and arts but we can't even trust them because... well. if WE fuck up a lot and established ways to not fuck up... they're also fucked up.

sure we programmed computers and say they make perfect numbers but girl,,, WE made the computer and the numbers. sure it finishes our formulas better than we do but did the guy making the formula do a good job? maybe, but how do we know it hasn't been warped over time to an unrecognizable degree. there are billions of languages with endless dialects and regional variations for each one. WHO GENDERED THE FUCKING NOUNS IN FRENCH??? YOU'RE TELLING ME THERE ARE WORDS THAT ONLY EXIST IN ONE LANGUAGE? LIKE, THERE ARE NO TRANSLATIONS??? okay, so what the FUCK does that mean if we're the ones inventing translations in the first place? don't make me think about all the dead languages and their secrets or all the lost texts and stories... aight now i'm just sad

sceptic prompts aside, i hope you understand what i mean when i say we're never gonna do a perfect job of explaining shit. that's probably why i started so many things here and got distracted because i predict "what if's" and feel the need to sub-explain every ambiguity. that's not a valid excuse for this literary hatecrime but it's a bit of context i suppose.

where was this going? see my point?!? okay this was supposed to be the quick return to my pre-intermission thoughts that fixes shit, but nah it caused more problems. adding to the never-ending pile of jibberish.

RIGHT THE CRAPPY PROFS. yeah you have bigger things to worry about just don't be a dick and treat academia with a petty attitude but then demand acceptance and understanding because peace and love and social justice mantras. the diversity you're advocating for should extend to those who didn't have it, even if those people are shitty and misinformed as a result of their less progressive upbringing.

BASICALLY, EVEN THE PEOPLE YOU DONT THINK HAVE IT HARD DESERVE THE COMPASSION I WAS PUSHING EARLIER. the sobstory profs and the absolute cunts you want to strangle are both dealing with shit and i don't expect you to "fix them" but if i see people using bad prof anecdotes to justify hating all/some educators i'll eat your skin like it's kfc or something. idk, apparently people LOVE chicken skin! insert a featherless biped joke here if you want and if it'll make sense for you, i just wanted a threat that wasn't gonna be too mean because reading to this point is punishment enough even if you deserve worse lmao. the "privileged" profs still went through hell and the last thing we need are more generalizations based on profiling. mean profs could have been nice once so maybe power through the rbf and dryness by continuing to be nice and attentive: you might just save someone! and future students! and your gpa!

okay, no more lectures. here's some crap i wrote at the beginning that kept getting pushed lower and lower as i went on a billion tangents. it's probably more academic advice and silliness but i'm not gonna bother checking so uh, take it away past me...? yikes, good luck:

so, you don't wanna do that assignment? well, the prof doesn't wanna read it, neither does the TA. same shit new term, no one benefits, and they're marking a LOT more essays than you'll ever have to write

so, you didn't understand the reading and are afraid to say something in lecture in case you don't know what you're talking about? chances are your prof is either in the same boat and has no coherent plan for the lecture and also doesn't know wtf is going on, or this is their special interest they dedicated their career to and they'd rather just infodump the whole class anyways.

"i'm scared to go to office hours" these guys either have no social life and/or family, or they do and none of them understand what the fuck they're saying. do you know how hard it is to have normal conversations or make small talk when 99% of your brain is shit no one but maybe 4 other scholars in the world give a shit about?!? EXAMPLE FOR YOU FANDOM FOLK: IT'S NOT JUST INTERACTING WITH NORMAL PEOPLE, IT'S TRYING TO MAKE FRIENDS IN A DEAD FANDOM WHEN YOUR FAVOURITE CHARACTER IS A NOBODY AND YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP HAS NO CONTENT BESIDES YOUR OWN, EXCEPT FOR MAYBE 2 OTHER PEOPLE WHO YOU'RE TOO AWKWARD TO INTERACT WITH BEYOND FRIENDLY TAGS WHEN YOU REBLOG THEIR ART.

short answer to that ^^^ go to office hours. especially humanities profs or weird science profs, not just because you will do a LOT better on assignments but because they're lonely and appreciate it. when i go to office hours my profs are either trauma dumping or incoherently rambling about blorbos from their manuscript or batshit crazy theories no one wants to write/hear about.

like, think about how you feel when you get asks or nice tags or comments on your fanfic/art/videos. even questions about your au or opinions! hot takes maybe?

what about when new people follow you or ask questions about the fandom you've been in for years: when someone asks a silly question about the lore are you more likely to see red and fucking kill them, or use this as an excuse to infodump and excitedly point them towards secondary content and inform/motivate them, even splashing in your own personal theories? i know it's the second one don't lie to me or yourself.

at the end of the day, i just want people to know that the stimulating debates people have online in the 21st century are the fucking green forums, while the "scholars" and esteemed academics that so many people write off as pretentious or too serious are fucking losers. they're freaks. i want every academic to have tumblr because they're SO FUNNY OH MY GOD!!!

when i see y'all talk about blorbo from your shows all i can think is "damn this is more coherent than when i ask my prof a question and she excitedly rambles for 20 minutes without actually answering anything because she's so overjoyed someone finally asked" and am reminded of all the special interest/hyperfixation positivity. researchers are just people paid to get lost in their own thoughts and words because their niche is their universe and it gets lonely when no one else bothers to check in.

oh, and if they're dedicating their entire life to something no one gives a shit about and worker their ass off to make it profitable... they're one of us. probably into fandoms. assigns music to their work. make memes about their theories because no one takes them seriously anyways. absolute fucking LEGENDS

TLDR which i know y'all need:

profs are based as hell fjdksldldlds go talk to your instructors they're lonely like you are and listening goes a long way. the internet is way too serious now to the point our "serious" communities that we believe are more strict are actually the most lax places.

so like... when we talk about tumblr being the worst place ever and brought up it's cursed reputation for YEARS but then actually witness 2022 and go "nevermind.... this is the only fucking place online to exist safely" because what the FUCK are those other places doing???

yeah. that's academia. the tumblr of conversations (aka full of freaks but the fun kind: WAY LESS THREATENING AND PSYCHOLOGICALLY DAMAGING than the "silly sites" which have evolved into... no i don't even have a metaphor or joke for this one. it's just awful lmao)

cool idk how to end this after wasting 1/4 of a day making no sense, here's george:

[staylavendertea]

music, ya know

this is a complete impulse of lying in bed middle of the night thoughts that i don’t even know if anyone’s gonna see that have been stemmed off the experiences of the past couple days, topic of 1:41 am mind boggle:

music and it’s aesthetic and importance in literal every sense cause it’s just that important to me

first experience of realizing this, i’ve always loved film scores and listening to music and the orchestral pieces from movies and shows, but it really seemed to hit me recently, like the fact that this week’s new LOKI episode, no spoilers, has the most badass score and a badass scene with such a perfect mix and musical atmosphere. i literally had one of my best friends over, who has a very small interest in comics, cinema, marvel in general, especially a show about a norse comic god that they know nothing about, and whilst they sat there for my own regard, watching the show like a normal human being would, i sat there clinching their hand, watching in awe as our music is louder than actors talking tv speakers spurted out the most spine tightening world building story and just wandered “jesus that was good” and whilst i will always think about the superior acting, cgi, the amount of different people that just went into those few scenes and like what was physical set and what was computer image and what the hell did i just watch that has my brain running olympic marathon circles right now?

the thought that said brain kept going back to was that fucking score. it was literally tearing apart of every corner of my head and why was it doing that?

second experience, another marvel one, but i digress. black widow (no spoilers i promise), thursday night, movie theater for the first time in i can’t even remember how long now and we set through so many previews just for fucking boss baby to start playing and the reaction of the theater to make me burst out laughing.

however whatever works in that little projection box, gets fixed and the movie is pushed to just a little before it starts, a nice small pepsi ad, the regal rollercoaster intro (if you go to regal movie theaters ya know what i’m talking about), and then i hear it - the marvel studios logo - something so musically engraved into my head that my ass that can’t sing for anything, can harmonize with the sound and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up around movie theater surround sound. but i can’t think of that now, i’m here to watch black widow, a movie on hiatus with the rest of the world for so long now, a character i didn’t know much about it or truly, didn’t have the most connection with in the first place. yet through that one movie, i seemed to build one of those.

ofc though scarlett johansson’s beautiful acting and world building, but it isn’t until the end of the movie that i even realize why. it was the fucking score again. when i think about it, the beginning of the movie felt like all of black widows scenes in the avengers movies for me, kinda just, there. not really emotionally tugging, not bad ofc either, but just, there. in the present, watching something cool in motion. but then it hits, what i can only describe as a theme that somehow tells the entire black widow movie in one singular composition. something so badass, story telling, but also just singularly black widow-esk. i can tell you that i walked out the movie theater rambling about the composition and looking up composers.

third experience, the most recent as it was literally like 20 minutes ago and sprung one train rail of a thought process that immediately tugged me into typing this brain vomit into a tumblr post. i have playlists. for everything. and when i say everything, i fucking mean everything. i’m a writer and a reader, i have playlists mostly for the young avengers, my most utter comfort characters, and their stories i’m writing. i also have playlists/genre/specific song for about every book i read.

when i read red white and royal blue when that came out, i noticed i listened to one of the drunks by panic at the disco the entirety of the ending of the book and the words and music fit together like puzzle pieces, not only did it make the reading experience better, but i was so fucking emerged in my over hyper-imagitive brain that when i finally actually finished the book, i still never left. rewind present day to the beginning of this past june, one last stop comes out, ofc i get it the day it comes out with my anticipation building like wildfire. i start reading that night and i put on my recents on my liked songs playlist (true to true spotify user) and i slowly over the next day as i read and finish the book, windle down to the genre, then the band, to the album, to the exact song that feels like the carbon copy of the words i’m reading. that song was only ones who know by the arctic monkeys. now go back to this past week, anyone who reads the carry on series knows, anyway the wind blows came out this past tuesday. i waited till wednesday to buy the ✨pretty special addition barnes and nobles copy✨ so that the dear friend that indulged me by watching loki that same day could buy it at the same time and make a cute book date or whateva. i started reading that night and something just felt ,,, off. i didn’t know what it was, but i was living off the pure joy that simon and co give me so i ignored the feeling. until i realized why it felt off this morning. i wasn’t listening to any fucking music, literally nothing, not even queen. motherfucking. queen.

i looked for the snowbaz playlist i made when i read carry on for the first time back in 2016/2017 when i was still a freshman in high school just to remember i deleted that literally forever ago. so i made a new one. like an hour and a half ago. very inspired on how i made the playlists for the young avengers and all their stories. letting the music talk.

the fact that all these rambling thoughts have led to this conclusion makes my head hurt, but for me at least in my own experiences. music talks. a two way conversation. a radio broadcast, turning the peg until you match the same frequency thats being put out and you can hear it and understand it. it’s like when you see comedians on stages or actors on panels, they talk, you have reactions, you talk back, and so forth the loop continues until the last voice, last note, rings out. music and songs and orchestral pieces and bands and composers and lyric writers are telling you the stories in reverse. they don’t know their doing it, obviously they meant something entirely different in their creations, but it’s like literature and any work of words and storytelling. interpretation. to me, the notes, pianos, violins, guitars, drums, singers, cellos, and anything that can make sound you can think of, is telling you something. whispering in your ear as you watch or read. facial features, emotions the characters dont say out loud, outfits, they way their standing or talking or moving or interacting with anything and everything.

when i just made that carry on playlist, i played it, decided to try read some good almost 2 am fan fic as you do, my hanging on by a thread sleep brain telling me words aren’t recognizable right now, and tighten myself into a blanket to see if i can sleep at all. the playlist still plays and my never shuts up head thinks it’s own daydreams, stresses out about anything it can, that is until the song plays. the one that just speaks the carry on trilogy language. the one that i found whilst i was reading wayward son and then would play whenever i re read carry on. the one that started this whole way too long ass post in the first place. cant be alone tonight by atlas. i heard just the first sound and i saw them, as if i were in the same room, like i never even put the book down in the first damn place because i’m actually terrified of finishing it. i could see simon in his oversized hoodies, baz in an outfit that was way too good just to be sitting inside, agatha looking as pleasantly pretty as ever, penelope poking fun at shepherd, and shepherd poking fun right back; bickering, laughing, saying the dialogues i try to remember so i can write them later, existing.

in a way music doesn’t just talk, but it lives. it lives and breaths. a three way conversation you could say. characters, stories, plot, and settings talk to the music, then the music delivers us listeners the message, so that we can send one back. this literally took me over an hour to write and i should point the important note that i do have synesthesia where colors and sounds and colors and words do the association so this entire thing might be me being entirely biased, but alas, i love sound so much and if there is anyone else that feels the same ways as i do as just a simple good film score and song makes anything ten times better, feel free to talk, i will totally be awkward, but i need some music freaks like myself around so feel free to hit me up, also if you love movies and cinema also feel free to hit me up as i need movie buddies and now it’s 3 am and i will be going to bed - peace out 🛸

[cellsshapedlikestars]

honestly just some personal jonsa feelings, feel free to ignore

so I’m pretty in my feelings lately, feel free to scroll right past this cause it’s gonna just be me being a sap about the jonsa community for a while.

Ok, so one year ago I went onto a new bc that really fucked with my hormones. You know how they say to give it three months to even out? Well month one was fine, but month two really went off the rails. And it was during Thanksgiving break that I holed myself up in my house because I was too anxious to leave for my entire five day vacation (I had plans, I cancelled them all). My whole personality seemed like it changed - I didn’t enjoy doing anything I normally enjoyed and I was miserable. And so I thought, huh, maybe I’ll read some fanfic, it’s been years, but I used to love reading & writing it. I remember back in the day, when I was depressed, it helped me.

And so I thought about which fandom to read. My old fandoms were dead or I had no interest in them anymore. The only thing I was still massively obsessed with was GOT. During the course of the show, I listened to multiple podcasts about it, read theories, talked about it at length with my friends who watched it, hosted elaborate watch parties, but I never really got super involved in the fandom online. And it wasn’t a show I ever shipped anyone on until we got to s6 and Jonsa hit me over the head and I went through the rest of the show going ‘wow I hope those two kids bang at some point and get to be happy together’. Obvi they didn’t.

So last year, Thanksgiving break, I spent five full days doing nothing but being anxious and reading Jonsa fics. Many, many Jonsa fics. There’s a part of me that wants to shout out the ones I remember, the ones that truly captivated me, but I know I’ll forget some people and I don’t want to make a half assed list and leave someone off. But just know - it helped me. They all helped me.

My meds eventually evened out, but I didn’t stop reading. 

Then covid hit. My state locked down pretty quickly and by the end of March, I was working full time at home. I live by myself and, having lived with various people in the past, it’s what works best for me. I’m an introvert, I handled quarantine better than most. But by July, especially when my state reopened and I had to go back into my office part time where 90% of the people don’t believe in masks or that covid even exists, my anxiety and depression was at an all time high.

I’ve always written stories in my head. As previously stated, I wrote fanfic for other fandoms, but at some point I succumbed to the idea that I had to ‘grow up’ and stop enjoying things??? why do we do this to ourselves??? In July I was so wound tight with anxiety that I decided to just write out the stories in my head because it used to help me. For a week I did nothing but sit with my laptop and write and write and cry and write until I had 40k of a story and I stared at it for another few days debating if I should post it or not.

because that’s the thing. I’d been lurking for months and months and crossing that line, creating an account on ao3, posting my shit, opening myself up to criticism and reviews, it wasn’t something I did on a whim. I obsessed about it until finally just doing it. And I’m so glad I did.

It’s been about four/five months since my first post and I can’t tell you how happy I am that I de-lurked. I started using my old tumblr again (after abandoning it like I had writing/reading fanfic). This community has been so welcoming and supportive and like I just really want to say thank you. To the people here on tumblr who interact with me (even though my anxiety brain is always like ‘don’t be annoying, leave people alone’), to people who review, & kudos my stories. Even to people who just read them, who lurk like I used to.

I fucking hate being sappy IRL and now that I look at how much I’ve typed I kinda want to just delete it all but I’m gonna post it. And then probably delete it later

[alexseanchai]

Fanfic 2020 in Review

I got tagged by @kasienda @noirshitsuji and @marvelousmsmol and I am tagging whoever wants to play!

1) List of fics completed this year in the order they were finished:

*filters own works to complete and updated in 2020*

1 - 20 of 57 Works by AlexSeanchai

nope. *adds filter to include only works of at least 1000 words*

unless otherwise indicated, these are all Miraculous Ladybug:

“don’t bake it lying down”, post-reveal Marichat vs Felix Graham de Vanily

“veracity”, canon divergence from “Ladybug” featuring Mister Bug and Verity Queen (so also Marichat, I guess)

“(no request is too extreme, if) your heart is in your dream”, in which Hawkmoth wins, for the thirty seconds or so before Emilie saves Ladybug and Chat Noir’s lives

“tell me you love me and make me believe it”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire ropes Ladybug into helping plan her civilian self’s escape slash social transition

“kingmaker, oathbreaker”, in which Hawkmoth wins and Emilie watches her son remove himself from the family

“stay and let me watch you break it down” (Twelve Dancing Princesses), a modern setting

“set a course for winds of fortune”, in which trans girl Chatonne Noire has already escaped and Gabriel and Nathalie are trying to bring Gabriel’s son home

“we ground love in a hopeless place”, in which post-reveal Marinette’s attempt to remain resolutely not in love with her partner dissolves like sugar in coffee when they start a pun war

“ring the bells that still can ring”, in which Alya is deeply confused about why Adrien and Marinette are planning a wedding when last night both were single

“burning wishes at both ends (the cold wind and long loud wail remix)”, in which Gabriel made a monkey’s paw wish and Emilie makes another

“words cannot espresso”, in which Marinette’s OC roommate is justifiably worried for Marinette’s safety, and meanwhile Adrien takes care of Marinette

“the compromise of truth” (the chronologically second-earliest part posted to date of nine lives, snake’s eyes), in which Adrien tells his friends how he won some freedom and respect from his father

“At The Present Time”, the Ladrien/Ladynoir marriage proposal follow-up to @art-deco-shrimp‘s  “Your Presents Required”

“j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”, in which the events of canon must just have been a series of dream sequences, Marinette and Adrien both think, until they both arrive at Chloe’s Halloween masquerade dressed as themselves from the dreams

2) Number of words written:

ahahaha no. I am not counting all my scattered fic drafts and trying to figure out what I did and didn’t write in 2020. I refuse.

AO3 says I posted 162K in 2020. it is counting all of keeps you guessing (like any real love), which (a) I started posting in 2019 (b) is co-written by @galahadwilder​; it is counting all of my meta snippets collection, much of which was written in 2019; it is counting the Vimeo passwords for my vids. but I probably cleared 150K by a safe margin.

3) Your most popular fic:

“veracity” has a four-digit kudos count, wow, when’d that happen? this is also the 2020 work with the most hits and the most bookmarks, but “tell me you love me” has four-thirds as many comments as its nearest competitor.

4) Your personal fav:

“cannot break us, not with a thousand swords”, no question about it. this is the one in which Ladybug proposes marriage to Chat Noir via Princess Bride meme on Tumblr. (if you intend to download the work or otherwise to consume it with creator style off, you want the accessible version instead of the primary version.)

5) Your fav scene:

aaaaaaaaa

—okay so this is cheating and I know it, since Uncertain Humors (the one where Marinette/Adrien is both Orpheus/Eurydice and Theseus/Ariadne) is nowhere near finished, never mind posted (maybe I'll get “Sanguine” done to post on my birthday?)

but it is still my favorite of the year. as you might guess from that description of the story, this scene has content notes for character death:

Hell is a maze. Marinette walks.

This acrid passage has little to see but damp stone, seeming blood-stained in the dim carmine light. At about the height of her heart, the faintly glowing thread cuts through the not-clammy air; it ought to be pulsing at the same rate as the heart it's bound to. She might be able to see her own reflection if she looked down at the open sewage pipe, or at one of the puddles that now and again she splashes through, dampening the canvas of her shoes. She might see reflected what's behind her.

She remembers Mme. Mendeleiev lecturing on human physiology. In healthy humans old enough to have learned how, urination is a voluntary action: one may not know which muscles one tenses and relaxes in order to do so, and probably isn't paying attention to those details when one is doing, but one has conscious control over whether one does. Usually. Stress and anxiety mean some people are unable to relax the relevant sphincter muscle and others are unable to stop themselves. It's voluntary for cats, too: it's one way they mark their territories. Cat-boys have other ways.

There is a moment in every human life when all one's muscles relax at once. Some Parisians have had several such moments.

The thread is braided with itself around her left fourth finger, rows of tiny red half-hitch knots, and falls loosely over the back of her hand to loop twice around her wrist. She holds it wrapped between the fingers of her right hand to keep it at a constant tension, as though knitting with this insubstantial thread, so fragile for something two (two dozen, two million) lives hang from—too thin to sew with, no thicker than one strand of his hair. As she walks, she winds it around and around and around her wrist.

Between her ring finger and her right hand, it loops twice.

Marinette's shoe lands in a puddle she didn't see. The rainwater splashes soundlessly onto her bare ankle and on the stone.

(With cat-like tread, upon our prey we steal— It's a very loud song.)

She walks on.

6) A fic or scene that challenged you:

where the firelight fades, no contest. this is the second story I’ve ever been able to stick with more than a couple hundred words past the 20K mark, but it’s easily the twentieth novel-length I’ve begun. (though also, you know that kedreeva post? well, 90K later, I’m less than 15K from completing this 10K fic! I think.) and I have been learning so much about long-form fiction.

there has also been a lot of weeping and tearing my hair. case in point: I just trashed the chapter 15 draft because I figured out the reason it wasn’t going anywhere! I can probably keep the first few hundred words of that draft without any editing, and another few hundred with some revision...

7) A line of writing you’re proud of:

from “j'ai rêvé (so I don't have to dream alone)”:

Everything about their partnership is fragments of sentences in the dream diary Adrien writes in ultraviolet pen. Disjointed flickers of thought even when examined under the black light he hides in the snack cabinet under packets of Super Yoyo sandwich cookies and bags of cheesy Monster Munch potato chips and boxes of petit écolier butter cookies (chocolat noir)—none of which explains the gym-socks smell. All fleeting incoherent flashes, invisible between the mundane lines of La Modification shelved at his bedside between Leroux and Dumas. None of it is solid. Adrien has more proof his room's haunted.

okay let me break this down for you!

* Adrien started a dream diary to make sense of the memories

* in invisible ink, in a book that (according to Wikipedia) is thematically appropriate and won’t (if Gabriel sees it) look like anything other than Adrien developing an interest in French literature

* shelved between Phantom of the Opera and The Three Musketeers

* look I didn’t come up with the name “black light”

* or “chocolat noir” for what English speakers call “dark chocolate”, or “petit écolier” (that is, “little schoolboy”) for that sort of butter cookie

* also not my fault that “chocolat noir” sounds remarkably like “Chat Noir”, which, attentive readers may have noticed, is not a name that appears in the story after the header and before Miraculous Cure

* I found the website of a store in Boston, Massachusetts that caters to French expats, and the yo-yo cookies and the monster chips were right there in the photos, y’all

* the snack stash and the black light live in the cabinet where, in canon, the Camembert lives; yes, that cheese smells in the real world like gym socks

* this story’s akuma was not able to affect anything but squishy human memory: nobody affected remembers anything about Ladybug or Chat Noir or Hawkmoth, not in any solid way, not even when they read news articles about the subject, and this includes Marinette and Adrien not being able to see or hear or remember their own kwamis—but you know what Adrien’s Insta post about his poltergeist and Adrien’s Insta post with the floating sock don’t show and don’t explicitly refer to?

* I love this paragraph so much (my housemates may have been lovingly mocking me over it)

8) A comment that touched you:

there are people (y’all know who you are) who said y’all are studying my style. I ded of blush.

9) Something that inspired your writing:

by volume of fic drafts that can be blamed on any particular person, the winner is probably @norakwami​

10) Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc):

so that longest-story-ever-written record I set in 2007 with the 89.5K story that, till where the firelight fades, was the only story I’d gotten much past 20K?

I broke that fucking record!

and then I deleted the draft of firelight chapter 15 😭

11) Do you have any writing goals for the next year?

I’m starting work on a fantasy novel, a Sleeping Beauty retelling in which I explore (among other things) the economic consequences of the king’s ordering all the spinning wheels burned, and I want to make significant progress on that. and I want to not make my hands any worse; I kind of need those!

(breaking news alert: bodies fucking suck. so does giving yourself repetitive stress injuries in doing one and a half to two people’s worth of work for an organization that was never ever going to pay you more than one person’s worth of pay.)

[sailorspazz]

10 Dance Special Booklet - Taboo and Habanera [English Translation]

I present to you my project of the last few weeks: an English version of the comics that came with the Japanese special edition of vol. 4. (Thanks to @words-unleashed​ for providing cleaned scans!) Since it’s definitely not Tumblr Safe, the full scanlation can be found at imgur. com/a/HgbwYk1 (sorry to write it out weird, but Tumblr hides posts with external links when you tag search, so just copy and delete the extra spacing and you should be able to access it).

As a bonus, I also made a subtitled version of the track from the drama CDs that includes the “Taboo” portion of the story. The dialogue is mostly the same, with some additions/deletions, but if you want to hear all the steamy action as well as read it, definitely check that out, too. Since it was long, I had to split the video on Tumblr; start with the first half here (or escape this hell site and go to YouTube, where it’s all in one part: youtu.be/ B95vNjt-e6M , again need to copy and delete extra spacing)

Recently, I’ve been working on serious summaries of the chapters that have been released since vol. 5 (starting with #29 part 1). My true nature, though, is to be more snarky and make dumb commentary, so click below if you want a summary of these bonus comics (along with select Tumblr Safe images) where I just poke fun and be thirsty.

So after several volumes of the Shinyas making out without sexing each other, I guess the manga artist was like, “you know what, I’m not gonna have these guys fuck anytime soon (or ever, lol just kidding...or am I?), so I guess I’ll throw some smut crumbs to the poor, deprived shippers.” And we’ll take it and enjoy it, because we’re desperate.

The first story, called “Taboo: Just a bit” continues immediately after chapter 21, where Suzuki said that he’s okay with kissing, but no more! To which Sugiki’s immediate reaction seems to be, “Cool, cool...I’mma go ahead and find a way around that.” Also, he may be a bit insecure about the size of his nipples.

Note: Sugiki’s nipples are important to the plot of this story. I’m dead serious.

Sugiki wonders about Suzuki not seeming to be bothered by him saying he’s adorable, but apparently Suzuki gets called that all the time. And in one of the greatest leaps in logic in history, Sugiki says that, since everyone always found you so precious, surely you and your male friends all touched each other’s naughty bits when you were kids, right? Suzuki’s like, UMM, NO, WHAT THE FU-okay, yeah. yeah, we did. And he assumes, oh, since Sugiki brought this up, he probably did the same thing.

“lol, no, I didn’t do that. But I made you admit that you did.”

Sugiki’s closest experience to something like that was when he was in high school and another boy insulted him, beat him up, and then paid him and said he wanted to suck Sugiki off (quite the roller coaster, but okay). Suzuki’s like, oh shit, that sounds super fucked up, sorry to make you remember that, but Sugiki actually used the situation to his advantage by using the boy to develop his own skills. Those skills involved whipping the other kid with a stick, and teasing him with the fact that he never actually agreed to what he proposed.

Baby sadist in training.

Look at this man. That is all.

So as Sugiki uses their childhood experiences as a flimsy excuse to propose some dick touching, Suzuki notices something shocking: Sugiki’s nipples are hard!

Suzuki Needs An Adult after making this discovery. And he’s so distracted by those sexy nips that he isn’t able to stop Sugiki from making a grab at his dick. Which, as it turns out, is a bit stiff.

Top 10 Manga Betrayals: Suzuki’s dick getting hard from man nips.

Suzuki stays in panic mode for a bit, and when he snaps out of it he finds that his dick is no longer in his pants, but in Sugiki’s hand.

He protests a bit, but then is like, fine, I guess I’ll let you jerk me off. And goes back to thinking about those nips and how bad he wants to bite them and squeeze them, and also how he’d really like to just fuck Sugiki for good measure, too.

But as for the eternal question of who would be fucking who, Sugiki tries slipping a finger in to test the waters.

Which results in a big fat NOPE from Suzuki, so Sugiki just keeps jerking him until he gets off, getting just a mini facial as a splash lands near his mouth (we don’t see him lick it...but you know he wanted to).

As they’re getting ready to leave the studio, Suzuki brings up the “adorable” conversation from before, saying he’d imagine no one calls Sugiki that. Sugiki confirms that’s true, and Suzuki responds with:

Look at this man. That is all (again).

The second story, called Habanera, shows us what the Shinyas do when they’re each home alone. Suzuki, in a desperate attempt to prove his straightness to himself, is planning a porn marathon.

Meanwhile, Sugiki plans to watch a special DVD that features Suzuki doing a Q&A session. Which, for him, we can assume is the equivalent of watching porn.

A look at Suzuki’s selections. Bruh, I don’t mean to kinkshame, but...pig farm?

Just as he’s about to get started, he gets a call from some random chick he used to bang. He has no desire to chat, though, and hangs up on her, but while jabbing at his phone, he accidentally hits Sugiki’s speed dial, and quickly disconnects in a panic.

Rocking the Winnie the Pooh look here with his red shirt and no pants. Also, there are helpful warnings throughout the story whenever his (heavily mosaiced) dick is on panel.

Meanwhile, Sugiki is watching DVD-Suzuki talk about how to wink while dancing, and it’s making him feel A Lot Of Things

Back at the fap shack, Suzuki claims that just seeing Sugiki’s name made him go limp, because, you know, he’s Definitely Not Attracted To Him. He talks to his dick, trying to get it to firm up again. His dick has a girl’s name (Machiko) and is shown in some shots as having a face and wearing a little bow (yes, it’s as weird as it sounds. no, I can’t show it here).

The next video he has queued up starts, and well, I guess this is that pig farm stuff he’s into (which really just seems to be a domme lady berating the viewer)

Back at Sugiki’s, DVD-Suzuki has moved on to teaching how to blow kisses.

Yeah, this is definitely porn for Sugiki. And as he watches this he’s a bit miffed that it seems like Suzuki acts a lot cooler when they’re not together.

Meanwhile, Suzuki’s fantasizing about the sexy lady dominating him...except, the person in his fantasy starts to change from a porn star to...

Oh look, the man he’s Definitely Not Attracted To happens to show up in his fantasy while he’s beating off. He tries to make the image go away, but then eventually settles for keeping the face but having the rest of the body be the porn star.

Sugiki is practicing his kiss-blowing with DVD-Suzuki as his imaginary partner. And when he finds out that there are other DVDs like this one, he quickly starts searching for the back issues of these pornographic very educational videos.

After Suzuki shamefully blows his load to the thought of the Sugiki-faced female porn star, his phone starts ringing. It’s Sugiki, returning the call he accidentally placed earlier. Though to Suzuki, the timing feels suspiciously like Sugiki had been watching him or something...

[eternallyitson]

Man that shit is hard to listen to without coming to tears. The whole good kid, m.A.A.d city album was the soundtrack to what was probably the most mentally unstable part of my life, because it just came out when that was happening. And it was an incredible album so I was listening to it the whole time. It was a hard period, it was the final thing that lead me to hate Fall as a season. I love that album so much, but so many songs from it are songs where if I play them, it immediately brings me back to that time. I can see my room again and I can look out my windows again. I can take in the season and feel the air the way it was at that time. And the hurt that was in my heart comes back in full force. The hurt and the pain I felt in my heart from that time has never went away and it’s something I haven’t even come close to healing from. It’s like having a bad wound that (at best) scabbed over, and never healed enough to become a scar. Like it never went beyond being a scab that bleeds profusely when picked off. So when I listen to this, and the pain of that time showers over me, it wasn’t really far away to begin with. It’s just that when I listen to the music now, it’s like the years between then and now disappear. It goes from the feeling of experiencing an old pain I have a lot of familiarity with, to the feeling of experiencing a new, fresh pain hitting for the first time. Like being at ground zero again. So when I listen to that album, and I’m back in my room and back to seeing and feeling everything again, I’m automatically back to being in the middle of what I was doing in the midst of how I felt. I was freaking out and having episodes every day where I would scream and cry and rip my clothes. I was digging my fingernails into my face and violently scratched and clawed until my face would bleed. I wasn’t in my right mind and one bad night I posted pictures on Tumblr of the blood going down my face (though in more recent years I went back and deleted it) and it disturbed a lot of people. As well as people who saw it in person. I was also staying up multiple days straight with no sleep and writing all over my arms and stuff. My eating disorder was at a high and I was malnourished. I sat in my room through the late hours of the night purging constantly. Which is where that song specifically was most significant. I played music loud on my stereo to drown out of sounds of me gagging and throwing up. That song was what I played the most in those moments. I played the whole album, but that was the song I frequented the most when it came to playing music loud to drown myself out. And the second half of the song especially, the I’m Dying Of Thirst half of the song. It was because of the type of “aura” it had in my eyes. The way it sounds is kinda sad, with the music being comprised of that soft, somber, melancholy humming throughout the song. And the things Kendrick was saying and the things he was talking about. Even the skits/interludes on each song that advance the album’s storyline. The one on that song always hits a nerve in me too. Whenever I hear the “fuck I’m tired of this shit! I’m tired of fucking running”, that gets me too. The mix of it all, it made me feel a certain way. I wouldn’t exactly say it was comforting (because it made me sad), but hearing it while purging and all that, it made it feel kinda like the song was holding me, if that makes sense. So when I listen to it now… I mean given everything I just said, I’m sure it’s easy to deduce why it effects me the way it does.

For all of that, I can’t listen to this album very often. I would love to because I love that album. It’s one of my favorite albums of all time. But the emotions I have tied to it make it hard for me. But since it’s one of my favorite albums, there’s no way I can just drop it and not listen to it again. Sometimes I gotta bite the bullet and for the sake of my love for the album and give it the listen it deserves. So once in a while I gotta play it again. I think of me doing that as sort of like a little maintenance check. Like to give it a sweep so it doesn’t become all rusty and defunct, if that makes sense.