#and by that i mean multiple times I have reread it and come upon a scene that i COMPLETELY forgot i wrote like fully did not remember

[hoseoksluna]

THE BALL OF LIGHT, i. | myg, jjk

pairing: friend!jeongguk x fem!oc (ft. brother!yoongi)

genre: fluff

word count: 2.9k

summary: life of other people never mirrored yours and jeon jeongguk will never be yours, either.

pin: ball of light / taglist: join / discord: join / masterlist: run

cp: ao3 / wp

warnings: smoking, suggestive but not described thoughts of nudity, pessimism, orphancy / the members in this series are fictional.

note: everybody, welcome the new series. it is a multiple member-centered fanfic, so the names you see in the title don't necessarily mean the pairing is endgame or anything like that. who the main love interest is will be a surprise that the fic will slowly reveal. trust the process with the first chapter. it's short on purpose and i will reveal the information and quicken the plot along the way. let me know what you think. reblogs and esp comments are mandatory unfortunately in the hoseoksluna house:/ ...... sfjsldfjsldfj ENJOY. i love u guys! should i crosspost it on wattpad? (im scared of wattpad)

… Or was his destiny from the start To be just one moment  Near your heart? 

(Ivan Turgenev)

— an epigraph from the book White Nights by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

Your brother Yoongi was always the pair of hands that would tug your legs down whenever you would fly in your books for too long. He did it out of tender care and fatherly kindness, calling your name in order for you to come join him in the kitchen for a meal. To be some semblance of a family after the tragedy had sunk its teeth into your bloodline. And what you had never imagined was that one day, you’d have to leave him behind to step inside a dream of this very reality. 

Throughout the trajectory of your girlhood, you had lived inside the worlds of your books. Classical literature that carried more depth, more leniency, despite its hardships that the characters went through, than this world. The idea of love clung to you like a second skin, one you wouldn’t really receive from the two important roles in your life because you weren’t made out of love, but would find within flowery and difficult words of another time. Digging deep and understanding made you fall in love with it, seek it in school, in the streets and inside your own home, only to look and walk past those people still empty-handed. 

In spite of it all, your palms were, somehow, still heavy. As if they carried something invisible for worldly eyes. 

You would see it come to life whenever you would close yourself up in your room, with your folded legs, your short hair wild and with a book on your lap. Dostoyevsky taught you that love could be found upon a fateful coincidence and it marred you in a beautiful way that was pitifully disastrous. It forced your eyes to look for it everywhere, even through the reappearing pain of disappointment, and it especially forced you to look for it at home. 

The hope remained even after both of your parents went to the other side of this love, beyond this world. They passed away due to an unfair illness. And because they went at the same time, you often found yourself thinking if they loved each other in the realm of eternity, when they very seldom loved each other in this temporary realm. 

Your firm, ingrained dreaminess helped you cope with the sudden silence, the aftermath of your state of orphancy. You no longer had to reread a sentence in your book a thousand times, the once screeching voices beyond the door of your bedroom shunned out, dead, but still pulsing. The walls carried the ghosts of those parental fights and Yoongi… he, in his secret sensitivity to the paranormal, braided for you a bracelet of black thread. To keep you safe from those spirits, to help you heal. 

He didn’t have one of his own, and that fact faultlessly described the new role he clothed himself in within this abrupt change. He would stare at the walls with a cold gaze, threatening them with power if they ever made a sound. He sat more at the kitchen table now than he did at his music station in his room, spine hunched over a myriad of bills that would make him pull on his hair until a bald spot formed. On the left side of his head, just above his ear, where his amygdala bloomed with black flowers. 

You would come home from school, glide your eyes over his bare wrist pressed to his cheek,  and touch the tense muscles over his protruded shoulder blades. You saw, vividly, the way his new role tore him apart and you wanted to help him. Physically and emotionally. But Yoongi rejected your help, rejected the emotions you were so willing to smooth out and caress with the lines of your palm that knew love from the way you caressed the pages of your books. He would get up from the table, tell you to shower, and he would walk to the kitchen to prepare you a meal, a meatless one because meat was expensive. He would wash his hands in the sink, let the cold water hide the strands of hair he plucked out of stress. 

He would pretend that everything was fine when in reality, nothing was fine. 

Your parents didn’t leave you a dime, but they let you keep the house you and Yoongi grew up in. Left an unpaid mortgage in your hands instead of happy memories, instead of love. 

But Yoongi, he showed you love. He would show it to you by the way he would boil the water for you in the beginning of yours and his orphancy because he had no money to pay for the water bill and because all the money he had saved in his boyhood was used for funeral expenses. He would show it to you by the way your plate would have meat and his wouldn’t. And he showed it to you by the way he wouldn’t allow you to find a job and financially help him, but instead told you to focus on your degree. To focus on your dream. No matter how many times you pestered him that you could find a part-time job. 

No, your dreams require your full attention, he had said once, that Yoongi-coded frown shadowing his features. Go study. 

And so you bowed your head and silently left, retreating into your room while contemplating in your heart that Yoongi never knew what your dreams looked like. And neither did you. Not until they showed up right in front of you. 

It is a time perfumed by the upcoming winter, the November time of the present. Frost has been kissing each corner of glass one would stumble across in the city of Seoul, decorating it with its affection using its snowflakes. It’s what you’re looking at, perched with your shivering form on the bus stop with the only friend you ever had in your lifetime. 

Or a so-called friend. You don’t think you would use the term friendship with a guy like Jeongguk. 

He represented the unattainable aspect in the books you’ve read. The goal that hasn’t yet been reached. The agonized yearning that hangs by a thread around the character’s life. He embodied the aspect of pain itself—because if life had been a little kinder to you, he would be yours. 

Life, however, isn’t kind. 

Life is realistic.

You met the boy at a wrong time in his life. Passing by him on the stairway of your high school, you caught him in a tense, yet volatile situation of an emotional kind. Spring, still reminiscent of winter, had wrapped itself around your nineteen years of age, and you, dreaming a strange dream that you couldn’t wake up from, ran late for your class. You hadn’t spoken to him prior this fateful day, though you knew of his existence. He was just a background character that you didn’t pay any attention to until he blazed up with life and the sparks of sensitivity on that empty staircase. And you couldn’t take the other way; you couldn’t turn around and miss the class. You had to walk by him and his girlfriend at the time while they were in the middle of an argument that shook through the echo of the space. 

You walked by them, but the encounter changed your life. It changed your life because Jeongguk’s cheeks were tearstained, glistening in the uncanny white of the staircase. His eyes were fixed on yours, his eyelashes wet and long—prettily, so terribly prettily. You quietly apologized, running up the stairs as rapidly as you could, and his eyes did not leave yours until you were out of his view. And then you heard the shuffling of feet and where there was an absolute turmoil, silence replaced it. 

Jeongguk found you that very day. 

Alarm was eclipsed over those puffy eyes, his eyelashes no longer wet, but still long, so terribly pretty. You were on your way out, exiting the building, when he grabbed a hold of your backpack, stopping you from disappearing. And when you gazed back with absolute horror, your short bob swishing around you, Jeongguk smiled a soft half-smile, which thinned out that negative emotion—as if he did it on purpose, not wanting to scare you. 

What’s your name? he started with a question, his shoulders slouched and drooping, an evident tiredness misting him in a drowsy aura. His voice was strained, bubbling in his throat as if he either screamed his vocal cords raw or didn’t speak for a while, choosing silence. Both options turned your heart upside down, painfully. You felt a greater pity for him than you ever have for someone in your lifetime—and that was the beginning of all your firsts with him. 

When you said your name, Jeongguk averted his gaze and nodded his head. You expected him to ask you which year you were born, but he kept his eyes low as he uttered the words, which made your pity for him grow into a bare tree  with just one twig, a seemingly singular wing, within you. 

I don’t know how much you heard, but Ka-eun didn’t do anything wrong. It was a misunderstanding and I would appreciate it if you kept it to yourself. 

You had heard a female screaming, seething voice, but due to your sleepy state, you hadn’t made out what those words actually were. But remembering the tears dripping off of his lashes, you realized how hurtful those words thrown at his must had been. And while you thought about this all, Jeongguk took your hand, pried open your fingers and fished out of his pocket a small banana milk. 

Ka-eun, the it-girl of the high school. Jeongguk protected her reputation, in spite of the fact that she didn’t deserve it at all. 

That was the kind of person Jeongguk was. 

It wasn’t the only encounter you had with him. He would smile at you and greet you while passing you in the halls. Would put banana milks sometimes on your desk early in the morning. Would sit beside you at lunch when he wasn’t on speaking terms with her. And he would confide in you while knowing nothing about you. 

That’s the reason why you can’t call your intertwinement with Jeongguk a friendship. Certainly not, after the person he became when uni life spread its roots in yours and his and he chose the one opposite of yours. 

The faculty of medicine stood facing your faculty of philosophy and literature, and Jeongguk, wearing his green scrubs and his oversized hoodie, would meet you during lunch breaks, insisting that you spend it together because he didn’t know anyone else and he was too anxious to meet new people because of what Ka-eun put him through. 

But Jeongguk didn’t eat. Not so much like he used to. 

The trauma and the difficulty of his field forced him to turn to cigarettes. And him blowing out the smoke the other way so you don’t inhale it while eating your lunch made another twig, another wing begin to grow on your tree within your chest for him. 

You didn’t love him, but he was kind to you and he meant something to you. You never loved a man, besides Yoongi and Dostoyevsky. And Jungkook puffing out the smoke like that, he reflected Yoongi and his brotherly love for you in a way that made you dream. Dream about a romantic love that everyone else seems to have so easily, except for you. About that romantic love you read about in your favorite Dostoyevsky book White Nights. 

But perhaps the affinity you had for Jeongguk was some kind of love that the books haven’t written about, at least later on. A kind of non-romantic love that you, yourself, came up with. A love that meant nothing in this world, but everything to you. A love that blazed up like the tip of Jeongguk’s cigarette that he lit up for you at the beginning of autumn of this year, letting you try it out just because he felt like it. 

Another first that has become a habit. 

You didn’t have money of your own to spend it on packs of cigarettes, but Jeongguk did. And he’s never been the kind of person who was stingy. He would give himself if he could, and it completes him—the act of giving and the other person’s response of receiving. 

His eyes burst with light at this very moment, a few months later, just like they did the first time when he lit up a cigarette for you. Though this time, you don’t need his help. You feel their heat, in the middle of this frosty bus stop, as he watches you place the cigarette he pulled up from his pack for you, his own hanging from his lips, unlit. He always waits for you to light up your own first like the gentleman he is, but something about his gaze is different. You sense their intensity, their foreign, foreign intensity that you don’t think is meant for you. And when you take that first puff, you expect it to leave you—like you’ve learned that it always does—but for some reason it doesn’t. 

There’s depth to the eye contact once you reciprocate it. Murkiness descends upon the pair of you, the sun parting ways with the day in a much quicker way that you still haven’t gotten used to. And along with it, a light layer of snow begins to fall. 

Something is meaningful about it—like it should be written down. Jeongguk’s eyes of lingering seriousness, pensive. The snowflakes that settle upon his ebony hair. How silky they must be to the touch. Always so poofy and voluminous. 

Your hands itch to write and Jeongguk doesn’t ask for his pink lighter back. He merely keeps staring, and you start to think that maybe something is weighing his heart heavily. Something personal that he will soon pour out. Like he always does. 

You’re the listener, never the talker, but something inside you urges you, strangely, to make the first move. Get him talking, get him smoking, so he can go home, go to bed and awake with a fresh consciousness, ready to be filled with anatomy, sicknesses and all the other stuff he needs to cram. 

The hand that longs to write lifts, and it feels natural. It feels natural to flick your thumb on the lighter and call fire to life. It feels natural when Jeongguk purses his lips, lifting the cigarette in the process, and holds it up for you while his hands remain warm in the pockets of his oversized black jacket. It feels natural to watch him suck in, the cheeks that carry too many memories of his tears hollowing out. 

And for a second that is too brief, you let your soul imagine what it would be like… to have Jeongguk as your boyfriend. 

To have the full, ceaseless measure of his love. The one that is meant for the better people, but not for you. 

To have his hands touch your skin in a way that would convey what he feels for you— 

“Have you told your brother yet?” 

Too, too brief, that second. Internally, you take your imagination and sew it shut with a pink thread. Pastel pink, like his lighter. 

The question aches as if you pricked your heart with the needle. You haven’t told Yoongi that you smoke one cigarette a day with a boy after school. You haven’t even told your journal. All in fear that the only life you ever managed to experience out of the realm of your books would simply disperse, never to be found again. 

In fear that Yoongi would be mad and you’d add another layer of stress on top of his already high pile. In fear that he would yell at you like your father did over meaningless things. 

“No,” you respond, softly, dropping your gaze to the ashy tip of your cigarette, flicking it off. The prickling sensation deepens as the iciness of the weather grows. You shiver, sighing. The tree in you does as well. “I’ll never tell him. Never—”

“Never in a million years,” he finishes for you, and your mouth parts in the overwhelming realization that you were wrong. 

Jeongguk does know something about you. He remembers that this is a sentence that repeats in your vocabulary multiple times a day. And there’s such intimacy to it, him knowing this, him finishing the sentence for you, him being educated in the matter that bears your name. 

Or perhaps not. Perhaps you’re too starved of any male attention, love and touch. 

Your imagination in you fights against the seam. 

“What happens if he sees you?” Jeongguk asks, and you pause before replying. Take a puff of your cigarette, watch as a miniscule star of mischief begins to live within the macadamia chocolate of his eyes—as if the principle of him secretly corrupting you utterly enthralls him. You picture that’s what he smells like underneath all those clothes of his, your imagination poking a finger through the seam. And you let it—you let it grasp you because it’s stronger than you. 

Macadamia, musk, cedarwood. 

The kind of lustful smell that is dark to the sight, but innocent in its core. 

Behind him, the blue murkiness fully evens out, no hint of the sun’s coloring painting its corners with positivity. Pessimism abides, and you feel it burying itself into your literature-woven bones. 

You’ve been waiting twenty minutes for the bus, Jeongguk even longer for his. The roads are long and empty, darkening the longer you stand here. The snow forms a firm layer on the ground, and you already anticipate Yoongi’s anger-infused worry, crawling all over you. 

You turn to look at Jeongguk, your blood flow at full halt. 

“War happens, Jeongguk,” you say, swallowing thickly. “If Yoongi and I see each other outside of the walls of our house.”

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved

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[siconetribal]

Beyond the Bookshelves (9)

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Warnings: Frustration, Impatience, Time taking forever, Loki still not getting anyone's title right

Summary: You’re a Resource Management Specialist at S.H.I.E.L.D. normally referred to as “The Librarian”. You’ve been assigned the nightmarish task of digitizing all the physical resources currently owned by the agency, with a few new computers and one extra helper.

A/N:

Please comment/like/reblog. If you’d like to be tagged moving forward, please let me know! (If I missed any tags, please let me know, I’ll add you right away!) I’d also greatly appreciate it if rebloggers remember to add the tags (or some at least).

The lovely banners used in this fic are from @cafekitsune.

If you’re new to the story, please check out the master post for the rest of the chapters.

Two more days?! The plastic and metal rectangular deceive creaked from the intensity of the grip, moments away from breaking. “What does she mean, ‘just two more days’,” he sneered the words, launching the device into the leather cushion as he stood up from his couch. It bounced up and plummeted to the carpeted floor with a muffled thud that was masked by the rapid steps of the pacing god. “It is not ‘just’ two more days, she has failed to respond to me multiple times, and she dares to say it’s a mere two extra days? I’ve been going mad in this overly decorated prison tower with nothing new to read! Had she looked at my earlier texts, she could have easily changed the order while on site at those other facilities!” He curled his lips inwards and pressed down on them, coming to an abrupt halt as he clenched his fist and took a few deep breaths, running a hand through his hair. This was unacceptable. He was a prince, and she was supposed to answer to him. Regardless of professional ranking, he outranked her socially. She was a mere Midgardian, and he was one of the great Asgardians, whom her kind revered as gods once upon a time. He knew the Librarian was aware of this, she was well-informed and managed the resources of this organization. And yet, here she was able to cripple him, bend his knee and ask that she return his clearance to enter the library. “She will pay. I will make sure of it.” He hissed the words through gritted teeth.

The spoke words worked like a charm, dispelling his anger as a calm fell over him. His frigid body temperature quickly warmed, and the frost that was beginning to coat the surrounding furniture and floor quickly evaporated. He walked around the sleek coffee table and picked up the abused phone. Tapping the screen to life, he reread her message again. However, this time he focused his attention on her other words. There, in black text, were the words ‘I trust you’. How could she trust him? He was the unforgivable, irredeemable villain who terrorized the world and nearly lay waste to the entirety of the city he was currently in. The very city where she worked and most likely lived in with loved ones and kin. He was the monster that needed to be caged and monitored, never to be trusted. And yet, here she was giving it away to just anyone? He scoffed and rolled his eyes at the naïveté.

No one in their right mind would give me their trust wholeheartedly. This has to be one of those sayings these Midgardians have. What were they called? Me-mes? He relaxed back into the couch, lips scrunched to one side and eyebrows furrowed. “She has to be out of her mind, there is no other plausible option.” The hushed words seemed to echo in the silence of his suite. Painful and sharp, there was no other explanation. “Why else would she wait for an apology from a prince?” He rubbed at his chest to ease the uncomfortable ache that swirled above his heart. “At least she is fine.” The words lingered on the tip of his tongue, but were never spoken. He had too much on his mind at the moment to care about yet another oddity that linked to this queer young woman, it would be something to worry about another time.

Y/N sneezed for what had to be the tenth time within the last hour. She knew planes could be a bit chilly, but she was well bundled up and currently comfortable. Pressing the inside of one of her wrists to her forehead, she tried to assess her temperature.

“I don’t feel warm, but it must be fatigue getting the better of me. I’ve been running all over the freaking globe getting all this set up.” She gently massaged her forehead, closing her eyes to ease any potential sensory overload of her exhausted body. The only solace she had was that everything was set into place and the other locations could begin scanning all the documents they have into the database. She would start the scanning process in the main branch as well. She knew traveling to and fro from the various bases was a waste of valuable resources and, most importantly, precious time. With only two translators, who were not even always readily available; it was better to have them read through scanned files when she could nab them, instead of letting them look at the physical text in person. “This is the most efficient way to do this. They’ll read and translate it, I’ll transcribe and upload it.” Easier said than done, Y/LN, easier said than done. She rolled her wrists and flexed her fingers with grim foreboding, the ghosts of cramps future coming to haunt her like the ghost of Christmas future did Scrooge.

“I’d joke about retiring early after this, but I don’t think this task will end soon enough for it to be considered ‘early’ anymore. What did I do to deserve this punishment anyway? At least Scrooge as a miserly jerk, what karmic deity did I piss off in a past life?” Rubbing the back of her neck, she reclined the seat and shut her eyes, sneezing one more time before falling into a deep slumber.

Two hellish days sluggishly ticked by as Loki impatiently awaited the return of the little nuisance known as the Librarian. The fact that he knew she would be back seemed to make the wait all the more insufferable. Each time he looked at the clock, it was as if the hands were frozen in place. A part of him even wondered if Stark somehow caught wind of her reply and purposely adjusted every clock that he happened to look to show that no time had passed at all. The younger prince knew it was not plausible because Stark had gone on his mission with Thor and some others. They left days prior to her response. He was in this infernal hell because fate was cruel. The only thing keeping him sane were his own meetings and training sessions. Only then did time seem to move properly, instead of slower than molasses.

Great, I’m thinking in such weird terms because of all the time I’ve been forced to spend with the Lieutenant Chatterbox. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Never mind that, today is the day. He glanced at his phone’s lock screen. There was a notification with the date that read: Return of the diabolical librarian. As soon as the clock struck eight, Loki left his quarters and made his way to the sanctuary he was unlawfully denied access to. He could have left early and been at the door just as it was to be opened, but he decided to have some leniency and give her a fair ten or so minutes to prepare. He was a magnanimous ruler, he would hear her out before deciding whether she left with malicious intent or not.

Standing before the wooden double doors, Loki hesitated for a moment. He gripped his key card that hung from a badge reel on his suit jacket. He eyed the speaker system above his head, knowing full well that the same grating computer voice will spew the same words that have been haunting him for weeks now. This time, he had a response, though. He would tell it that the Librarian has asked for him to come speak with her, and it would verify with her before allowing him entry. If not, he would use his magic to transport himself to the main desk and calmly request that she upheld her word of removing the hold. Pressing the card to the scanner, he watched the red light turn green and heard the chime of it being registered. A click from the speaker above signaled it had been activated. His jaw tightened as he took another deep breath, anticipating the rejection.

Tags: @vbecker10 @huntress-artemiss @softestqueeen @thegodofnotknowing @princess-ofthe-pages @firedrakegirl @rcailleachcola @cabingrlandrandomcrap @lotrefcp @lwtannie @jainaeatsstars @msdjsg7 @tom-hlover @kneelingformyloki @gruftiela @gigglingtiggerv2 @kats72 @mischief2sarawr @evalynanne @wolfsmom1

[ofoceansandtombsanew]

Can I ask, if you have top favorite romantic couples (can be canon or non canon) of all time from any media? Why love them? Thx :D

... now this, took a minute to answer in some ways. There a lot of ships I like, so this was really easy and hard to answer at the same time. Some ships it was an immediate yep yep and others I had to go '... but is it a fav of all time, though?" But I think I got it narrowed down.

So here we go, fav ships of all time from any media, no particular order. I didn't get any specific no. to do so I'll just list a handful until I can't think of any others. (Anyone who comes across this that sees a ship on here you don't like and feels the need to say something about it, stay in your lane this ain't about your opinions it's about mine.)

The main FMA ships

Arakawa Hiromu, nigga, you cooked. Imma just put the FMA ships as one and leave it there because if I do it separately, we'll be here all day. But if you wanna see me diving into why I like these ships in a manic ramble, here's a post I made on that here. The romance in FMA is literally a category and a discussion all on its own that I can go about on for hours. FMA has the best romances in shounen so anyone who has consumed FMA will know what I'm talking about. Like, whenever anyone tries to use a manga being 'shounen' to justify shitty romantic writing, I point at FMA's brilliant riding. An animanga's demographic is not an excuse for terrible executions in romance. EdWin, RoyAi, LingFan, AlMei and all the side ships drank and left no molecules.

NaruSaku

Toxic shippers, again, stay in your lane, I don't feel like dealing with y'all any day. I have been shipping this shit for years, always have, always will. Ignore the fact I ship Sakura with literally everyone from the Akatsuki to Hinata to Sai to Shikamaru. (Y'all I used to look up Kisame/Sakura fics, unironically TAT). (Same for Naruto honestly, I've shipped him with Sasuke, Ino, Temari, Tenten, the list goes on and on.) The way Sakura goes from finding Naruto annoying to almost dying multiple times to keep him safe, I will never EVER be over that. Naruto's love going from puppy to something as passionately red as the thread of fate itself. The MinaKushi parallels. I have a lot (and I mean a lot) of ships in Naruto pertaining to these two, but NaruSaku is my absolute favorite. Like it was literally confirmed that Sakura got over Sasuke and then it got retconned for some bullshit. Saying it with my whole chest, argue with a wall, it should have been them. I won't dog any other ships, but yeah, it should have been them. 699 chapters of Naruto being in love with one woman, I sing the praises everyday.

SakuHina

Hinata's prince charming is literally Sakura. I have a whole ass fic I am slowly, painstakingly writing about what Naruto would have been like if Hinata had a crush on Sakura the whole time. I just think they're really cute together, have amazing chemistry and balance each other out. I didn't expect to like SakuHina as much as I did but here we are.

Kyoru

I mentioned it before in another answered ask but Fruits Basket was my first manga (if you're curious what my first anime was, it was Yu Yu Hakusho) and Kyoru was probably my first OTP. There are two characters I think upon so many rewatches and rereads that were prime game for who Kyo and Tohru could have ended up with had things been different (which, I do really ship as well. Multishipper here guys) but I'm not mad about the endgames that we got. From start to finish, Kyo and Tohru's relationship is beautiful and you can feel how strongly they feel for one another. It's like, wow, Takaya really gave us one of the best ships in shoujo and didn't even apologize for it.

Klance

Red + Blue = True. They had chemistry, supplemented for what the other lacked and we really don't need to have me diving into the bs that was VLD. That show wasn't even out long, my god, it was a mess.

NeuviFuri

Should I explain to you the romanticism of Hydro x Hydro? Oof how I love them. A Genshin ship after my own heart, truly. But if anyone is trying to against MiHoyoverse (I was here from the Mihoyo days, leave me alone) in terms of seeing who ships NeuviFuri more, we all lose. They literally paid people to do an ice dancing program in NeuviFuri cosplay, paid a guy to make a companion piece to Furina's song from Neuvillette's perspective and several other animations concerning their relationship in some way. But the Mihoyoverse shenanigans aside, it's the build up of 400+ years of working together, the care they still have for one another and yes the complementary abilities and color palettes. Not enough time in the day to talk about them, I don't think.

AriDante

Almost thought I wouldn't have a gif for them, then I remembered THEY GOT A MOVIE. Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe is one of my favorite books in the world. I have reread it once a year religiously since 2017 when I first discovered it. This is such a beautiful novel and relationship and if you haven't had the pleasure of reading it or the sequel, please do yourself a favor and buy it or rent it from your local library. It's just, the way Ari has been in love with Dante for so long and didn't even realize it but it's so, so clear to the reader because of just how he talks and describes him? I don't even want to go to deep into this one just in case there's someone here that hasn't read this book because it deserves to be read and experienced blind. Just, just please y'all read it.

[spaghettificationandpretzels]

Let's talk about the writing process.

One of the reasons why interaction is so important is the amount of work that goes into writing.

My average creative writing speed is 55 WMP (I'm much faster on typing tests and when writing from uni). I got this number by going to typing monkey and typing out a passage I had completed in my head, it is wholly inaccurate to the real amount of time a fic takes. If I break it down into the time it took me to write my last fic, not accounting for anything, and presuming I just typed for hours straight, it would have only taken me nine and a half hours to finish the fic, it took me six months to even begin to publish.

Writing isn't just the time it takes to type something out. It's researching and world-building, editing, creating art like banners and title cards and most importantly, forming the story. The math says a 4.5k word chapter takes eighty-one minutes to type out, but editing, refining, going back and rereading previous chapters for details and changing details throughout the story as better ideas come massively adds to the amount of time taken.

You may look at a 4k or 6k chapter, read it in ten minutes and move on, but that may represent hours upon hours of work, it could have taken the author three months to finish. A multi-chapter piece of fanfiction very well may be the length of a novel or more. If you're lucky, you have a beta who can help, most people are doing it completely on their own. That means someone is doing the work of a writer, an editor, a publisher (putting the story out there) and a publicist (promoting the story) all by themselves for free, in their free time.

If I am very lucky (or seriously sleep-deprived), I can knock out 4k in a day, it might then take me another day to go back and edit it. It should have only taken me just over an hour. Most of the time, a 4k chapter takes me multiple days, and that's when things are very good, there are times when it can take me a month. I wrote fic through near homelessness and housing issues, personal and familial health problems and a whole host of other shit on top of studying.

Commenting and reblogging takes a few minutes, and it's the least you can do to thank a writer for all their hard work. Creating comes with a great degree of vulnerability, it can be hard to keep going if hard work just ends up in the void. If you take a few minutes to say thank you, it will be appreciated.

[restinsodaroni]

Incoming transmission....

. . . .

. . . .

. . . .

Transmission received!

I hope this message finds you well. Alas, I have no sweets for Sun and Moon this time around. But, I would like to take this moment to uplift your spirits in hopes to help suppress the ugliness that this place has brought you for an unacceptable amount of time.

Firstly, I'd like to say I am immensely sorry that some people are unable to recognize or seemly choose to dismiss your boundaries. It's disgusting and very disrespectful to ignore something that's been listed and reiterated multiple times over and over again. I can only hope that the majority feel just as repulsed by such actions.

Anyways, with that out of the way, I would like to say that your art is chef's kiss. I really enjoy each art post of the lanky jester bois and the style that's uniquely yours. HOW DO YOU MAKE SUCH EXPRESSIVE YET STILL UTTERLY STATIC FACES??? Like seriously.... I don't know if I can really explain it properly. You have a way with keeping the original static feel yet also making it emote emotion so effortlessly in your art of both Sun and Moon(and now Eclipse). I love how they blush in different ways between one another; Sun with his whole face lighting up and Moon's eyes brightening up with sometimes slight additional color. I also love the funny shenanigans in the art responses to the asks. Particularly the hat collection.

On a similar note, your writings are as equally enjoyable and fantastic as the art you create. Recently saw you've started another dca fanfic with ruin eclipse. Can't wait to read that as well. Really love rereading your stories of the bois.

In conclusion, I enjoy your creative creations and how much time and effort you put into each piece that is made. Each one makes me go "omnomnomnomnomnom" and can't wait for more to appear. It's been great so far since I've stumbled upon your works as it continues to draw my attention. Looking forwards for more coming from you in the future to be.

Wishing you a wonderful end of 2023 and an even better 2024. :D

Awww thank you so much for this sweet message!! 😭 I know that's just how the Internet is, but man it gets me sometimes 😅 Just gotta remind myself that I can step away from here if I need lol.

I do feel bad because these people are asking for comfort in their time of distress, but I mentally can't do it honestly.

I'm so glad you like my art and writings! Thank you so much for checking out my fics! I'm happy you enjoy my lanky goofballs 🥹

Thank you so much for taking the time to write this! It means a lot to me! 🫶

[blue-rose-soul]

Well, hello!

First of all, I would like to tell you that your publications are very interesting, fun and inspiring, I really like the concepts and AU's that you share here.

So, my question is, how different are Vox's..."feelings" or thoughts towards Alastor between "The Devil's Bastard AU" and "Raised Together AU"?, since clearly in one case he later finds out Alastor is Lucifer's son, while in the other he knows it from the beginning, so there are probably differences with the canon.

I mean, from what I've seen here, I think you mentioned that Vox is still obsessed with him, but if you could elaborate a little more on the scope of those complicated feelings I would really appreciate it.

By the way, have a nice day :)

I actually had to go back and reread some of my old posts, because I needed a little refresher on everything I'd already written about Alastor and Vox. For the main Devil's Bastard AU, I would say that Vox's feelings upon learning about Alastor's secret are a mix of shock, fury, and horror. It doesn't really occur to him that Alastor himself didn't know that Lucifer was his father. Vox's first thought is that of course Alastor knew, he just kept it a secret so he could build himself up as a self-made man while secretly being a nepotism Overlord and a hypocrite.

It's one of those things he and Alastor often fought about, right before their friendship dissolved. Alastor coming from a poorer background and being a member of multiple marginalized communities during the days of Jim Crow laws, while Vox was a white, presumably wealthy cult leader who preyed on the disenfranchised, they had wildly different views on things such as class and wealth inequality. So when it comes out that Alastor is Lucifer's son, Vox comes to believe that Alastor was talking out of his ass during every one of those arguments.

At the same time, Vox is seething over the missed opportunity to have someone with Morningstar blood on his side. The royal family isn't well respected (except maybe Lilith, but it's hard to say definitively) but they are undoubtedly powerful. That's why the Vees were so nervous about Alastor making a deal with Charlie. Vox tells himself that if he had known, he would have fought harder to get Alastor either as a business partner or on the end of his chain.

He's right. In the Raised Together AU where Vox knew from the get go who Alastor was, Vox approached him with that knowledge in mind. His friendship with Alastor had a less organic beginning, as he had ulterior motives towards Alastor. However, I do think that he did develop real feelings for Alastor over time. Not necessarily healthy ones, mind you, but real nonetheless. I'm fond of the interpretation that Alastor was Vox's bi awakening and that the two of them had a genuine friendship before whatever incident lead to them becoming bitter rivals. There's also the implication that Alastor may have played a part in Vox's rise to overlord status.

Now, Alastor isn't stupid. He's aware that many of the demons who approach him are looking to improve their social standing. He was less open to Vox in the beginning, but Vox's charisma and honed people-skills did eventually get him into Alastor's good graces, and as Vox's feelings developed, Alastor's walls came down to the point that he willing to call Vox a true friend.

However, Vox didn't let his emotions get in the way of his ambition. If anything, he only became more determined to tie Alastor to him. He started trying to drive a wedge between Alastor and Charlie, encouraging Alastor's worse habits and more ruthless side. He tried appealing to Alastor's ego by saying how the two of them were above the common Sinners and with their powers combined they could control the entire Ring of Pride and blah blah blah. He proposed his alliance and, well...

Like I said. Alastor isn't stupid. He'd been fully aware that Vox had been trying to manipulate him for some time by then, but he valued their friendship enough to try to maintain it and arrogant enough to think he could do this while evading Vox's manipulation attempts. And, well, it wasn't like he didn't also use Vox, to an extent. Bridging the gap between himself and the Overlords, getting an in to their meetings and a direct line to some of the technological and social advances taking place in Hell. As long as it was reciprocal, it was fine. But when he turned down Vox's proposal, Vox exploded.

It didn't turn into full on physical fight, not because they weren't willing to hurt each other, but because Vox had enough self-control to remind himself that attacking Lucifer's son might not be the best idea. But their friendship did end messily in that moment, even without the bloodshed. Afterwards, Vox had to tread carefully around Alastor so although their rivalry still exists, it's not quite as public. What he didn't know was that Alastor actually prevented Lucifer from doing anything to Vox after their falling out. Later when asked, Alastor will say that Vox had only ever used him and never actually cared for Alastor, but he won't speak a word on his own feelings about what happened.

[eneiryu]

I reread black and white letters for our black and white names and you and me in the classifieds, begging come find us our home and I just have to say that I LOVE the way you write the relationship between Theo and baby Allison, and I am fascinated by the way you write her as always reaching for him and being distressed and upset when he is distressed and upset and calming whe she's near him and even him wanting to be with her all the time but not trusting himself or feeling like he's deserving or he might hurt her some way, and I was wondering what your thoughts were when you decided on that? I would love to hear your thought process behind it because it's so interesting and also such a good idea to give Theo this pure and good and perfect thing that adores him and wants to be around him that he doesn't really understand why but he can't really say no. Could you talk about the connection that Allison has with Theo and what you were thinking?? Sorry if that didn't come out very cohesive, I hope you understand what I mean haha.

I gotcha (I think).

When writing Theo, I’ve always written him as someone with multiple layers of damage, some of which was externally inflicted upon him and some of which he did to himself, but all of it very thick and not something he knows what to do with. And, something that he worries about poisoning or affecting others. At the end of the day he’s a murderer, and not just because the Dread Doctors made him into one: Josh and Tracy were his kills, and a lot of the other things he did to the pack and others were his own decision or part of his own planning, even if he was doing them to further the Doctors’ orders.

And so I think he thinks he’s tainted. Both in the sense of the things he’s done, the sins he carries with him, but also in just…inherently who he is, how he thinks. He knows he has a brain that could justify and did justify all of the things that he did, and while he’s working on changing and being different, those pathways, those ways of thinking, are all still there. And while Liam and the rest of the pack made the conscious decision to accept him and be around him, to let him be part of their lives, it really did strike me that Theo would worry about “inflicting” himself on someone unable to defend themselves against him, so to speak. But to then get to his and Allison’s connection, and where I saw that really start to develop—the fact that he worries about these things is the proof that he doesn’t have to worry about it, in a sense. That the fact that he worries about tainting those around him, about being the person he was before, means that he won’t be that person, he won’t be someone who taints those around him, because he doesn’t want to be and makes a conscious effort not to be.

And Allison senses that, because she’s a literal baby and it’s all instinct. Whether it’s by scent or sound/heartbeat or whatever, Theo’s body and her instincts don’t/can’t lie to her, and they tell her who he is, and that she can trust him, and so she responds to him in that very open and engaging way, that I think he can’t help responding back to. And it becomes a virtuous cycle, which in a lot of ways I think goes beyond just his and Allison’s relationship to all of his relationships—she really helps him learn to start to trust himself, because if she can trust him, and he can trust himself around her, then maybe there’s something trustworthy—and just worthy—about him after all.

[bluemoonperegrine]

Wolf Be Upon Yeet: Part III

In which @vicarious-rebel and I chatted via DM about the Werewolf By Night and Moon Knight crews in her headcanon which includes Elsa’s pet eldritch horror Stony, which had been the Bloodstone but is now literally a monster. Here are part I and part II.

Stonyverse short fics: 

“Of blood and stone” by Vi

 “Something Awful This Way Comes” (ao3 link) by me

"In which the Bloodstone is a little shit" by Vi

This amazing, adorable gif that's eventually relevant to the silliness below it is @toothyclown's creation. (Toothy, If it's not cool that I saved the file and posted it here, lmk and I'll delete it immediately.) Here's the original post with the gif.

This edition gets Looney-Tunes-style silly. 🤣

Vi’s text is black. bluemoonperegrine’s text is blue. (I mean, of course.)

I'm thinking about writing some Stony stuff, so I'm rereading your fic introducing the adorable li'l scamp. There "was the body and eight legs of an arachnid but a bony humanoid torso where the chest and head portion should be. The arms were long and thin but ended in clawed hands large enough to close around a human head." So he has eight spidery legs and two arms. The arms are generally human-like, right? Just kind of warped and horrific?

Stony is huge! It sounds like when standing his abdomen is 7 ft off the ground. If his torso and head are roughly human-sized, that would put his head about 4 feet higher.

I think Stony shouldn't have much of a scent. In any case, it would freak Jack out even more if this creature that partially looks like a skinned human doesn't smell like blood and flesh at all.

This idea popped into my head: the moon boys teaching Stony to walk on his humanoid hands. Jack would pass out on the spot the first time he saw it.

If Stony is as big as I described above, someone's gotta ride him like a steed sent straight from hell. Elsa makes the most sense.

I read this part of our chat--"considering Ted's acid is a reflex"--as "Ted is acid reflux" initially. 🤣

Random idea: Elsa finds a way to make Stony temporarily smaller so it's easier to bring him on hunts. Or maybe discovers that he can go back into gem form but doesn't want to. Elsa would need a truckload of chicken nuggets to train and reward Stony for stuffing himself back into gem form for a while.

Stony: screech-growls in protest

Jack: flinches, then fidgets

Elsa: It's only for a few hours. As we clear out the nest, you can eat every single one of those shambling mounds!

Jack: shudders

Stony: perks up

My brain keeps circling back to Stony's origin story. Why was he suddenly able to manifest in monster form? I'm thinking that during a big fight the Bloodstone got a hairline crack. That disturbed some sort of containment spell and Stony could break free.

yup his arms are pretty human-looking, just disproportionately long for extra body horror eldritchness

Regarding Stony's scent, I do imagine him to smell of blood but it also makes perfect sense for him not to smell of anything bc he's supposed to be in a rock.

You're right that it would freak Jack out. It'll make him develop Stony-sense.

TINY STONY! I imagine him looking the same just…. smaller

My Little Stony 🤣

The question is how tiny is tiny Stony? horse-sized? large dog-sized?

He could change to multiple sizes: stone-sized or dog-sized Regarding how he manifested, something like a spell or whatnot "dissolving" the bloodstone and releasing the sentience

When Stony's out, the actual Bloodstone is gone and not in its frame because it's not a stone anymore

Jack sees something crawling on the floor, assumes it's a spider, then "oh wait oh shit it's That Thing"

Poor Jack sees one of the moon boys teaching Stony to do a trick and he just nopes out

Jack wakes up one morning to find tiny Stony curled up on top of him (on top of the covers) sleeping soundly… and is promptly launched across the room by shrieking Jack who runs for the hills

Tiny stony usually sleeps on Elsa's bed. 🤣

I think I just want to terrorize Jack.

Or worse, sees Elsa actually train it for combat and legs it Hasn't Jack suffered enough?

(No.)

Terrorizing Jack is so much fun. He's our damsel in distress

Someone save the werewolf from the eldrich tarantula

A favorite visual of mine in this AU is Stony deliberately trying to freak out the resident smol woof and Marc just deflecting him like "ok that's enough, you're gonna stop it or no chicken nuggets for you"

Jake not too secretly eggs Stony on. Sneaks him a spicy chicken nug when Marc's not looking

Jack looks at him, betrayed "I loved you… Trusted you…. And you BETRAY ME?!"

Jake: Man up, woof boy

Steven: Jake, I won't tolerate this sort of misogyny and misandry. That's no way--

The system devolves into bickering again. Jake: it's all in good fun

Steven: good fun? you're traumatizing him

Maybe Steven let Jack know about something that wigs Jake out so he can give him a little of his own medicine. He could be afraid of butterflies or something.

Marc standing off to the side, rolling his eyes

Yeah, Steven likes fairness so he'd do that

Jake: whispering to Stony in Spanish Jack: I CAN HEAR YOU AND UNDERSTAND YOU, GILIPOLLAS.

Steven: steal his gloves and crinkle them Jake: DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE Stony just being confused bc he doesn't know Spanish but he gets spicy nuggets so he's fine with it

The moon boys bickering is the best

Jake's cheeky and teases ppl but it really is all in good faith

The smol woof needs a pack. he likely sees Elsa and Ted as his… and eventually, reluctantly Stony as well. He'd be more than happy to include the moon boys and Layla

yeah, they're all his pack Stony is on thin ice tho

I can imagine Jack getting angry at Stony for something and informing him that he's out of the pack.

Stony: no response

He doesn't understand and wouldn't really care even if he did.

Elsa, feigning shock: you Kicked him Out? Jail! In this AU werewolf Jack looks just like he did in the special. I assume he's not a mindless killing machine. In the special he went on a killing spree because he was attacked and tortured via Bloodstone and then guards. So is he basically wolflike? How much human Jack is in there?

I'd say about 10% human Jack, he tends to act very wolflike but can occasionally retain info/memories between transformations but they tend to be vague and blurry (like trying to remember a dream but the only thing you remember is having a dream and maybe some detail or feeling and that's it)

For instance, werewolf Jack can recognize ppl by scent (esp if he's been around them long enough) and has some of the same preferences as his human form, like his penchant for salmon paste

Is salmon paste like lox?

Nah, it's like regular salmon ground down to paste, it's got a similar consistency to any paste and it tastes and smells like smoked salmon

It's pretty good. I pretty much headcanon it as one of Jack's favourite snacks after he discovered it. (Marc absolutely uses that to his advantage when dealing with werewolf Jack)

So there isn't a panic at Bloodstone at each full moon if only the usual suspects are around

Bloodstone Manor is like the Addams family mansion. There are a couple of weird creatures, a werewolf, a monster hunter and two avatars of Egyptian gods and everyone's having a grand old time. And then there's Billy Swan, the only normal one in any room, doing his thing like this is all perfectly normal. Also, where is the manor? Outside Boston?

I read somewhere that in the special it's in Arizona. The garden/labyrinth looked kinda the American SW to me, so that clicked in my head and I used it in my fics. Also I love the desert SW so I was happy to set stuff there.

I honestly have no idea, geography is kinda fluid in my brain. It's somewhere in a forested area and that's all I know abt it

gotta have room to roam (for Ted and Jack) and probably also Stony bc big eldritch horrors gotta stretch

I imagine that Elsa removed all of the monster heads mounted on the walls as well.

... if Elsa hadn't removed the monster heads, Stony may have eaten them 😬

I imagine they're stuffed/preserved somehow, in which case Stony wouldn't so much eat them as chew them up and spit them out in disgust

Jack's doing his own thing and BOOM, Stony pops up and fucks up his day

vlog proposal: Decorating With Stony

After the reveal Stony weighs in by destroying things or not. It's the ultimate interior decor assessment. The releases people have to sign are insane

--------------------

Sheesh, I still haven't gotten to the part that inspired this series' title! I'll get there eventually.

[iphisesque]

hihihi im not the best at remembering shit that happened in tlt, what did you mean when you referred to g1deon as harrows ‘foe/rapist?’ specifically the rapist bit? i can’t recall that from the books but tbf its been a while

he never textually rapes her as far as actual sexual assault goes, i reckon the fandom attitude towards him would be far different if he had; however, the scene in htn where he busts into harrow's rooms and nearly kills her in the bathroom is extremely sexually coded, and it presents itself as a rape scene in much the same way as the bone arm scene presents itself as a sex scene (necromancy in general having clear sexual implications in tlt as a whole).

harrow is in the bathtub, her guard is down, and g1deon effortlessly strips her of her defences and storms into her bathroom, leaving her naked and vulnerable with no weapon against him but her own body (which she ultimately fends him off with, but not without being stabbed multiple times and being left pretty much for dead). the aftermath draws parallels to rape aftermaths too, with harrow feeling deprived of what little safety she felt she had beforehand and not being able to sleep in case he comes for her again, and her ultimately deciding to kill him as the only way she'll ever feel safe again; the language evoked throughout is also very much that of sexual violence, which is starkly clear upon a reread.

obviously that is just one way of reading and interpreting the scene, and i think it especially makes sense within the broader context of john's grooming: iirc i first mentioned g1deon being harrow's rapist when i mentioned john delegating parts of his grooming to mercymorn (the lyctoral training proper) and g1deon (the violence and rape) so that john himself may come to harrow as a paternal saviour, which is something countless people more knowledgeable than me have talked about at length.

[siancore]

First of all, steel barricade? And of course know you can ignore my asking and we’ll never mention it.

For the ask game:

10 - T’Challa/Bucky I mean this was at a time before I even read standalone Sam or Bucky with anyone else and bam! I loved them and understand it staying in unfinished and think about that last scene and the words from time to time. About what it means for each of them, even if both know its not really real it’s enough in that moment and I think enough of a foundation. One of the maybe 2 times I didn’t want SamBucky endgame.

12 - I have read all of your fics multiple times. Long ones maybe twice only. And long ones where I was there before it ended/when it started, I reread before I read the update. I read “A Chance” absolutely countless times…the tab just stayed open for months and months.

5 - I need to see if you have Attoye(is that what we call them now?) I haven’t read. But what haunts me the most is your Walking Dead fics. I tried watching the show but zombies. I will watch it just to read your fics though. Because I just know it’ll destroy me in a good way and make me feel. I know you also have a SamBucky I haven’t started but it seemed sad and I’m just not ok enough to read anything sad.

9 - Your SarahBucky’s. College Sarah and Divorced Sarah are close to my heart. No pressure.

Ps. I’ve done this 10 times. It keeps crashing when i try to create a link. I’m too exhausted to be frustrated though but you know which ask game I’m talking about. Also hi babes how are you. Miss you💜💜💜

Pps. Excuse this terrible formatting i did it in the notes app.

Oh my gosh, that barricade was rough. Rough concert. Came away with a cracked rib. They're a bitch. But everything healed very well. Sometimes I want to feel something, and I end up feeling a lot more than I bargained for lol

Listen the Bucky/T'Challa fic is dear to me. I have it all outlined, and do want to come back to it. We'll see how I go. But it's such a lovely little rare pair. The multi-shipper in me gives all I got to each pairing I like, so I'm glad you liked it. I just think they're sweet together.

Attoye is such a great ship. The chemistry from what little we've seen on our screens is fire. Their fight scene is better than Steve vs Winter Soldier in my opinion because there's an added layer of sexual tension to it. I adore this ship so much.

The Walking Dead was such an awesome show. Rick and Michonne circa S3 invented sexual tension lol if you ever watch the show, please come yell at me about it!

I lost all of my SarahBucky fics because my old laptop shit itself. I'm gonna get someone to look at it and see if I can salvage those stories. I thought I backed them up, but didn't. Kicking myself so hard.

I posted a couple of new SamBucky fics if you haven't checked them out. Thunderbolts Divorce Era is almost upon us.

Hey, I hope you're doing well. I'm getting there. Thank you x

[p0tat0-g0ddess]

this is late, but anyways. fanfic ask: 10, 1, 55, 56, and 76?

ehehe ty. late asks r good asks

Do you daydream a lot before you write, or go for it as soon as the ideas strike?

Typically I’ll let ideas spin around in my head for weeks before starting to write, but every now and then I’ll have a thought that demands to be written Right Now, as was the case with Heir to a Bloody Throne and has been the case with The Sins of the Father.

10. Do you work on multiple wips or stick to one fic at a time?

…I have seven multichapter fics that are currently unfinished and published, as well as several half-written oneshots and another multichapter fic that haven’t been published. I think if I tried to stick to one WIP I would just straight up combust.

55. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics?  Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

Oh, lots. My two most common tropes/themes are that of redemption and found family, I typically write in some kind of medieval fantasy setting, and recently I noticed that I’ve been using a lot of the word ‘distressed’. But yeah I have enough common themes that I’ve made a bingo board about it (which you’ve seen but I’ll put under a cut here)

56. Are there any fics that you would change or rewrite if given the chance?

A lot of my older ones, when I reread them I can see a lot of things that could be improved upon. My oldest ones… to try and fix them would be to seriously rework the plot because it’s very convoluted and it would be an entirely different fic at that point lol. I can definitely see some stuff in the Nether Queen or Endperor that could be improved upon. But I don’t really know exactly how I would do that. Now that I’ve finished them, it’s hard for me to come up with different ideas, so I guess they’re staying how they are.

76. How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?

I’m not suuuuuper sure what this means, like, pressure to write? When I’m anxious about writing I typically don’t and when I feel pressured to write by my readers I also typically don’t. So, not very well.

[doodlebloo]

your fics bring plenty of comfort they are so very cool and well done. anytime i have to describe the way you write to a friend i try to say its like canon but Better in the sense that its like. all of the moments you wouldnt witness on stream, seeing every character fully rounded out and the sort of friendships and communication between them that you never see in canon because everyone is a hot mess. genuinely SO good, and the way with wedding bells and ATYFIL that you like... none of the chapters feel like cliffhangers or like there's more to be expected and it sucks to not have it? its less like a means to an end and more just the continuous build through chapters that makes both fics feel whole even though they aren't technically finished yet. with fics for beeduo and clingyduo its so easy to feel like one of the characters is being based/included because of their relationship with the other, but they always feel whole the way you write them?? your beeduo fics are tubbo centric AND ranboo centric AND do every aspect of both characters AND their relationship justice, same for clingyduo. did NOT mean to turn this into an essay im so sorry i just love your writing </333

Anon this is literally one of the highest compliments I have ever received fr... Ok I'm sorry I started rambling in response but I'm putting it under a cut <3

Literally the thing I put the most effort into when writing is characterization, like I'll go back through after I'm done and tweak anything that doesn't feel quite right to me, but also! I kind of don't vibe with c!beeduo fics that like NEVER mention Tommy not even once yk. Like if it's a one shot Okay I Guess but Tommy is a big part of Tubbo's life and it feels weird that he would just like never think or talk about him even if they aren't on good terms when the fic takes place. Cmon guys that's his brother ykwim. It's good to hear that Im doing a decent job with Ranboo tho, I really don't feel like I do cranboo justice but I certainly do try :)

Also lol I don't really like ending on cliffhangers bcos I'd feel guilty if I didn't have the next chapter out for a while (that isn't to say that None of the chapters will ever end cliffhanger-ish but I try to avoid it?) It's fine when other ppl do it tho I don't mind that I just like it better for each chapter of both fics to feel sort of Self Contained, like if you really wanted to you could read Just that chapter and not feel like you're missing out yk? :)

Wedding Bells specifically is so cathartic tho I literally wrote it bc it's exactly what I would want to read if I was having a bad day or hating canon and just wanted to block it all out for a bit :) When I'm done w it I honestly might make another work set in that universe for just one shots that will sporadically update whenever I feel like it just bc I like writing for it so much lmao. It's just fun and sweet and I like it a lot and I'm glad you like it as well! <3

[pettyprocrastination]

Cyvasse

Summary: Oberyn enjoys a game of Cyvasse with his brother and they speak of his wife’s vacation in Essos. Robert’s ghost has joined the war of the five kings. 

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader (reader is not included but she is spoken of)

Word Count: 1.6k

Author’s Note: (Lore used in this fic) Takes place during the war of five kings. Oberyn and the reader have been married since the end of Robert’s rebellion. Cyvasse is the a game played in the GOT universe similar to chess. 

Tagging: @thesadvampire​ my oberyn moot and the ever lovely @pedrostories​ case I keep forgetting to im sorry asjkdkjs. 

Oberyn should have known the moment he saw the Cyvasse board set in front of his brother that something was wrong. 

“Come.” Doran’s face shows anything but a playful mood as he beckons his brother to the chair across from him. “Play a round with me, for old times sake.” “You mean get beat by you for old times sake?” Doran scoffs. “You can win, you just don’t want to put in the effort.”

It’s true. Cyvasse took far too long for Oberyn’s liking. He excelled at the game, but only when he had the patience for it-

Or the desire to beat his opponent. 

But now he has neither. One hand taps the rim of the table while the other raises over a bowl of berries set by his side the moment he sits down. Oberyn makes the first move. Sliding his heavy horse up one square, his brother watches with a smile. 

“Brash.”  Doran tells his younger sibling. 

“Decisive.” Oberyn corrects. 

They play in silence. It’s peaceful. The sun bathes them in a warm haze while birds sing in the garden. They do not rush, no royal court or council meeting urging them to do anything but enjoy the moment. 

But Oberyn knows his brother.

“Rumor has it that Stannis’ Baratheon’s army has a rather surprising ally.” Oberyn's hand pauses. Only a second long before he moves yet another piece, but Doran catches the brief panic with ease. 

“Oh?” “Yes. It is said-'' Doran's face melts into the frown that Oberyn has seen since he was a trouble-making child. One of scolding and reprimanding. “-that the ghost of Robert Baratheon has joined his brother’s side in the fight for the iron throne.” Oberyn snorts. He remembers your kingly brother. One whose last years of life were more aptly spent whoring and drinking until he couldn't sit up…and then some. He wondered if the idiot even still had the strength to swing that ridiculous hammer of his before he died. 

“Really?” 

Doran hums. “Multiple witnesses have claimed to see our deceased king in his armor by his brother’s side, war hammer and all.”

Your husband imagines you in battle. Voice raw as you let out a war cry on horseback in the midst of chaos. Body exhausted and armor slick with blood yet you fight on, rage in your eyes and teeth gritted as raise that ridiculous fucking hammer and unleash hell on the Lannister army. 

He smiles. 

“Must have been quite a sight.”

Doran moves his two spaces forward. Oberyn rolls a berry between his fingers. 

“How is your wife? Still in Essos?” 

He remembered the panic that had ensued when the palace staff awoke to find you missing. Nothing taken aside from riding clothes and food, with a letter placed upon your neatly made bed. He keeps it tucked into his robe and rereads it whenever his mind begins to wander to an unforgiving place. 

“And loving every minute.”

The letter had addressed him personally. Apologizing for such a quick decision for travel but confessed you must see the world on your own. Unencumbered by your husband or guards that would have followed. You called him “My love” and promised to write as often as you could. 

The only thing you would ever call him aside from his name was “husband” which was done in a tone of indifference on the kindest of days. 

It had been sealed with the Baratheon sigil. 

Doran had insisted on sending the guards after you and Ellaria agreed. But he had waved them both off with a casual hand that did not match the tension set into his shoulders. 

“She may be my wife but she is her own person.” He explained coolly. “Let her have her own adventures just as you have let me have mine, brother.” 

That night, Ellaria shouts at him for many things. For not comforting you more in Renly’s death, for not doting on you as a husband should, for not caring like he does as a lover. 

For letting you throw yourself into danger when she knows you are in pain. 

Tears fill his lover’s eyes as she berates him and slaps his chest. Calling him an uncaring fool. 

But he tells her that Stannis is all you have left. 

“She has lost two brothers.” He explains, after she lost her fire and lay in his arms motionless. “Who am I to stop her from trying to save the last?” 

“Then you should have comforted her, you idiot.” her voice is raw and cracked from the shouting and crying for you. The wife of the man she loved. What a funny relationship the two of you had. 

“She’s strong.” her lover promises. “She’ll come back.”

That night, they both dream of you slain in battle, crying out for your brothers as your blood flows through the cracks in your breastplate and eyes begin to go empty. 

The dreams do not stop when your next letter arrives, but seeing your handwriting brings them both a small comfort. 

“You need to bring her home, Oberyn.” “I’m not her keeper, Doran.” The younger prince shrugs.  “She is enjoying herself. As her husband it is my job to make sure she is happy.” 

“Not when her galavanting vacation puts our house in jeopardy. You need to understand-” 

“-I understand that my wife is in Lys.” Oberyn clipped. “That she has left of her own volition and will only be brought back the same way. I have no intention of forcing her to do anything.” 

Doran finally moves his king. 

“Stannis intends to take Blackwater next.”

Oberyn pinches the berry between his fingers a touch too hard and it bursts, droplets of juice run down his wrist and seep into the cuff of his robe. 

King's landing. Home of the bastard king whose family wore so much blood on their clothes it had seeped into the very thread used to embroider the golden lions they wear on their chests. 

“He does?”  

A heavy wall of defense and countless men willing to die for it to protect the corrupt lions that pace behind it. 

Most lords do not engage within the heat of battle. They fall to the back to survey their army and call out commands. Stannis was level headed and decisive, his army relied on his orders to keep them fighting. 

“Has your wife told you where she is going next?”

But Robert fought alongside them. He charged into battle with a thunderous war and his hammer held high. He was at as much risk of a vicious death as the rest of them, it’s why his men loved him so much. 

His ghost seems to be doing the same.

“Mors.” Oberyn’s voice cracked out. His brother’s eyes softened at the look of concern on your husband’s face. “She’s heading to Mors.”

“I wish her a safe journey home.” 

“As do I.”

Oberyn prayed to the gods, old and new, that the ghost would not charge into battle senselessly. 

[rnelodyy]

c!Dream and the rules

(/dsmp /rp, all names refer to characters, not content creators)

I think one of the most striking parts of Exile is something that I rarely see talked about, and it’s Dream’s rules. Or rather, how his rules were made to be used as justification to hurt Tommy.

The thing about exile is that, outside of the initial rule of “Don’t go back to L’Manburg”, Dream never told Tommy the rules, yet constantly operated under the assumption that Tommy already knew them, and had accepted them. The rules also changed constantly, without Tommy ever being notified until he was already in trouble.

The second time Dream told Tommy to put his armor in the hole, he didn’t tell Tommy to do that right away. Instead, the conversation went like this (slightly edited to remove stammering and unrelated dialogue).

Dream: Do you have, uh… something you wanna put on the floor here? Tommy: Yes. (drops two pieces of red concrete as Dream digs a hole) Dre-eam! You’re evil. You’re evil. Dream: Anything else, Tommy? Tommy: Nope! Dream: Oh c’mon, I know there’s something else you wanna drop down here. Tommy: (panicking slightly) No, there… (messages BBH “take this and run”, throws him the disc BBH had gifted him earlier) Um… I don’t reckon there is! (pause) Dream: Okay, are you suuuure? Tommy: YES. Dream: Alright… How ‘bout your armor, Tommy? Tommy: Well, no, this is- I actually earned this myself. Dream: I know you did! Tommy: Leave me alone. Dream: Just drop it in the hole, Tommy. Tommy: Wh- no, NO, you can’t just come and demand things from me! I’ve been exiled, I’ve done your shit, what do you mean?! Dream: (sing-song) Tommy… Tommy: What? (Dream hits Tommy with his axe, taking over half his health) Tommy: (screams, drops his armor) OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY!

The only rule Tommy was aware of at this time was that he wasn’t allowed to go back to L’Manburg. Dream had taken his armor the night before, but there was no indication that he expected Tommy to do this constantly. Taking his armor upon initially arriving at Logstedshire made some kind of sense, allowing Tommy to keep it would run the risk of him trying to fight his way back into L’Manburg. Taking his new, very shitty armor (seriously it was an iron chestplate and a pair of golden leggings he got from a ruined portal chest) made no sense at all, so the fact that Tommy was confused and refused to cooperate at first isn’t unexpected in the slightest.

And the thing is… Dream was aware of this fact. Throughout the conversation, he never really sounded annoyed, and was actively teasing Tommy at times. This isn’t a good thing btw, it’s a sign that he was fully aware that Tommy didn’t know what he wanted from him, and that that would create a situation where Dream could “put him in his place” as it were.

If you’re a parent, and your kid does something that’s not allowed, without knowing it’s not allowed, you don’t start off with a beating. You sit them down, calmly explain the rules to them and explain why those rules are there, then send them on their way with the knowledge that they shouldn't do it again.

This interaction wasn’t an instance of Tommy acting out and Dream correcting him. This interaction was a trap. Dream set Tommy up to fail by not telling him the rules beforehand, and when Tommy offered even the slightest bit of resistance and asked why he needed to drop his armor, Dream jumped straight to beating him. It’s a powerplay, plain and simple.

This is demonstrated again with the destruction of Logstedshire. Dream got pissed that Tommy disobeyed him by having hidden chests with gear under his house, and retaliated by destroying everything Tommy had built, destroying every item he’d collected, killing his pet and only foodsource, barring him from the Nether, banning everyone except himself from visiting, and telling him to start over from scratch after a whole lecture about how Tommy betrayed him.

Again, I wanna point out some specific lines from this lecture that illustrate my point very well.

Dream: You were lying to me! You were lying to me. Tommy: No- Why was I lying?! Dream: What do you mean, why were you lying?! Tommy: I wasn’t hi- I wasn’t- Dream: You hid things in a chest knowing they were things I wouldn’t want you to have! And you hid it in a way that way I would never find it!

Except Tommy didn’t know that. The contents of the stash were all items that Tommy had obtained previously without any issue (diamonds, emeralds, iron, ender pearls, some pickaxes, and some purely sentimental items like flowers, a jukebox, and pictures of Tubbo and L’Manburg). In fact, the vast majority of them came from Tommy’s aboveground storage, which Dream had full access to, and had looked through before!

Dream also never said Tommy wasn’t allowed to hide stuff, and there was nothing to suggest he didn’t want Tommy to keep secrets from him.

There’s been a theory floating around for a while that Dream knew about Tommy’s item stash beforehand, since it was a very strange place to dig a hole (like, right in front of the house in the center of Logstedshire itself, instead of out in the plains where the TNT wouldn’t damage any structures), and Tommy had previously forgotten to cover up the entrance ladder. While Dream hadn’t looked inside the house, he would’ve definitely heard Tommy place the block back.

If this theory is correct, then this was yet another trap. Dream knew Tommy had a hidden room, and instead of just saying “hey, I don’t want you to have a hidden stash, go put this back and fill in the room” (which would’ve still been bullshit btw), he went COMPLETELY ballistic, destroyed EVERYTHING Tommy had, and while doing it, kept admonishing Tommy for betraying him, said shit like “I thought we were friends”, and even accused him of preparing to attack Dream. Again, a powerplay.

Hell, even the exile conflict itself is this! Tommy was exiled for griefing the king’s property while being a high-ranking official in L’Manburg. Except Fundy, the then-president’s son, CONSTANTLY griefed Eret’s shit after the L’Manburg war, ranging from ripping down one of their towers to “shrink” it, filling another tower with water, and multiple elaborate plots to steal the throne from under their nose. But apparently, between all of that shit and the exile-conflict, the rules were silently changed, meaning Dream could exile Tommy for breaking a couple blocks and placing some rude signs in George’s house. Even the punishment itself was changed without warning, as Tommy went from being exiled from L’Manburg to exiled from “everywhere that’s ever been touched.”

...I was originally gonna make a different point here. I may put it in the reblogs, because I still think it’s very interesting. But, in the middle of writing this essay I had to stop because it was late, then I spent the entire next day packing up because I’m in the middle of a move. It's now the next evening, I'm sat in my new room, on my camping bed, I opened this doc because I pretty much forgot what I typed, I reread it, and then I realized… This isn’t an isolated series of events. This is a pattern for Dream.

Before Tommy first joined the server, there were only three set rules: no stealing, no griefing, and no killing people. Except by that point, those rules weren’t enforced at all. In fact, Dream broke all three at once at one point, by killing George and burning his diamond armor because he didn’t feel it was fair that George got to run around in full diamond when everyone else still had iron.

Tommy joined the server, and broke the rules like everyone else. He stole shit, broke shit, killed George for funsies… and he got exiled for it. Seriously, they dumped him in an empty snowfield for breaking rules that nobody had enforced for weeks. So technically, the Exile-arc isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to him!

During the events that would eventually spark the Disc War, Sapnap stole a bunch of Tommy’s items (including the only Netherite chestplate on the server at the time), and told him he’d only give the stuff back if Tommy helped him with a conflict he had with Ponk. Long story short, Dream tried to intervene and was killed by Tommy and Sapnap, and Dream stole Tommy’s discs to force him to apologize. He then kept the discs, and the Disc War followed. Sapnap, despite being the aggressor and arguably forcing Tommy to participate in the conflict, was never punished.

This proves not only that the rules can change whenever Dream feels like it, but that they’re arbitrarily enforced. Dream refuses to punish his friends for the same crimes he endlessly fucks over Tommy for.

L’Manburg was created in part because of the fact that the rules were unevenly enforced. Tommy, Wilbur, and later Tubbo were repeatedly killed, stolen from, imprisoned, and even held hostage for very minor crimes, while the people killing, imprisoning, kidnapping and stealing from them were able to do so without impunity.

This was also the point where Dream just started making up new rules; there was no rule against having governments on the server, or making a separate area where Dream’s rules wouldn’t apply, so Dream banned governments, and used this new rule as an excuse to kill them, take their items, and tear their land to shreds.

And that’s another thing: the punishments for breaking Dream’s rules are INCREDIBLY harsh.

Kill him non-canonically one time? Your most prized possessions will now be dangled over your head and used to hurt you for the next few months.

Make a country with different laws that doesn’t infringe on anyone’s territory, has no desire to expand, is explicitly pacifistic and open to trade negotiations? You’ll be forced to fight a war you’re in no way equipped to fight, you’ll be betrayed and murdered and have your land destroyed in front of your very eyes until you literally have no choice but to surrender.

Mildly vandalize the king’s house, which nobody else has ever been punished for? You’ll be dragged into court, exiled from your home, and subjected to weeks of abuse until you believe that all of your friends hate you and you actively want to kill yourself.

Hide some stuff in a secret chest? Your only shelter will be exploded, your pet/only food source will be killed, all your items will be destroyed, you’ll be banned from the Nether, and none of your friends will be allowed to come see you.

This is all such disproportionate retribution it’s ridiculous. It’s like punishing someone for speeding by blowing up their car with a ballistic missile.

So to sum up: Dream’s rules are arbitrarily enforced, and he can just straight up make them up on the spot if he feels like it. Sometimes, he won’t tell you a rule exists until you’ve already broken it, and you’re treated as if you broke it out of malice instead of genuine ignorance. And if you do break a rule, and he decides you have to be punished, it will always be a punishment so harsh it doesn’t even ATTEMPT to fit the crime.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds pretty fucking corrupt and tyrannical to me.

When people say Tommy deserved exile, or made Dream spiral into villainy, or abused Dream somehow (seriously I’ve seen this take multiple times and every time it makes my brain melt) by breaking the rules, I would invite them to take a step back and ask themselves, why did that rule exist? Did Tommy know it existed? Was it enforced for everyone other than him as well? Does the punishment fit the crime?

Dream has a bad habit of making up rules, or enforcing old ones that were never enforced before, to punish those who threaten his power. None of the Dream Team were ever punished for anything, despite committing the same crimes as the L’Manburgians. That is, until they founded Mexican L’Manburg (i.e. went against Dream’s rule), at which point they were attacked by Dream and George was dethroned for “not being neutral enough.”

Tommy should’ve faced consequences for what he did. But those consequences should’ve come naturally, and been carried out by the people he hurt. Like, if Dream hadn’t intervened, griefing George’s house would’ve resulted in George griefing Tommy back in revenge. In fact, he DID do that, by turning Tommy’s entire house into granite and putting the Jump In The Cadillac picture on his front lawn.

These are natural, proportionate consequences. Exile was none of that. The Disc War was none of that. Everything that happened to L’Manburg was none of that.

Dream’s rules and how he enforces them are inherently corrupt and tyrannical. To pretend it’s anything but is disingenuous at best.

[xoxo-teddybear]

Cheater? - Bakugou Katsuki

Bakugou x f!reader

Warnings: fake cheating, cursing, angst, fluff, crack

Summary: PRANK WARS!! After coming to the conclusion that his own girlfriend pulls better pranks than him and has been one up-ing a lot recently, Katsuki decided to break their unspoken rule and pull a cheating prank

A/N: I recommend reading this fic as a continuation of this fic. It’s about Y/N’s revenge.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“I don’t know who the fuck is listening right now, but I, Katsuki fucking Bakugou, am begging whatever heavenly body, god, spiritual being, whatever the fuck it could be, to ensure that my girlfriend does not leave my dumbass for pulling this prank. Thank you, bless.”

Bakugou kept his eyes shut with his palms pressed together in a praying motion for the longest time while he spoke to something to protect his relationship. When he was done, he took a breather and got up from the shared bed. He took out the camera and set it up behind Y/N’s makeup stuff to hide it and began to put his prank into action.

A few hours ago he had Kirishima pretend to be a girl and had his best friend flirt with him through text. This went on for some time to make sure that if you were to scroll through his conversation, you’d find a lot of messages. At the end of the texts, Bakugou had Kirishima find a random pic online of some random girl’s ass and had the red head sent it. Bakugou answered it with a very flirtatious text, which had Kirishima send a very cutesy, appreciated reply in a very girly matter, which ended the conversation. Bakugou changed his friend’s name to some random name, Kiyoko, and finished the job. Yes, the two friends were very uncomfortable doing this whole thing.

With the camera now recording, all Bakugou needed to begin his prank was his prized possession. You.

—

Bakugou and you were cuddling on the king sized bed. You both were just talking about whatever while Katsuki remained on his phone. You didn’t see it yet, but Katsuki was “texting” his friend. In reality, he was just waiting for you to look up at his screen to notice the scandalous texts he and this “Kiyoko” were having.

“Baby?” You asked while looking at your pretty acrylics.

“Yes baby?” Bakugou said while still looking at his phone. He had his arm wrapped around you while you layed on him with your cheek on his chest.

“Ion know...I love you baby,” you said in the cutest voice. Bakugou could only make a face of extreme awe to appreciate his precious girlfriend.

“I love you too Teddy Bear,” he said. You lifted your head to smile at him but you took notice of how he was still staring at his phone.

You pouted before smirking and climbing up to come face to face with him. You got in between him and his phone and grabbed his face with both hands. He smiled at you before you leaned down to peck his lips multiple times. Once you were done you tucked your head under his chin and looked to the side, just enjoying the moment. He kissed the crown of your head before going back to “texting.”

At the sound of him pressing random things on the keyboard, your pout returned. “Baby~ Pay attention to me!!” You whined.

You removed your head out from under his chin and layed your head next to his. You looked at his phone and saw a ‘thank you’ with a kissy face emoji from a “Kiyoko” before Katsuki switched the screen to some random game. “Who’s Kiyoko?”

“Hm?” Katsuki asked, pretending to be oblivious.

“Who’s Kiyoko? You were just on a text chat with her, why is she sending you a kissy face?” You asked with a little more attitude. You tried to take the phone out of his hand but he pulled it away.

“She’s just a friend, babe.” Bakugou said.

“Okay, well if she’s just a friend then why can’t I see?” You questioned.

“Because there’s nothing to see.”

“She sent you a kissy face. That’s something I’d like to see.” You said while easily taking his phone out of his hand.

“Babe, no.” He said and took the phone back. “Shes just a friend.” You took the phone back and he tried to grab it again before you held the phone away at a distance to make sure he couldn’t grab it. “Babe. Noo, stooppp.”

“If she’s just a friend then why’re you trying to hide it?” You asked with the phone still far away and him attempting to reach for it.

“Cuz we’re about to go out and-“

“What the fuck?!” You said as you looked to the texts. You froze in your position as you brought the phone closed and scrolled through the texts, stumbling upon the picture. Bakugou tried to take the phone away from you but failed (on purpose.)

“She just wanted an opinion,” he tried explaining.

“An opinion?!” You asked while sitting up and pushing him off of you. “She sent you a booty pic with you complimenting her and shit. And you’re over here calling her babe!”

“It’s not like that-“

“Then what the fuck is it like Katsuki?!” You asked. You went back to the text and reread some of the messages out loud. “‘Bet you enjoyed it when I wrecked you last night, Relax Princess Y/N’s never gonna find out, I love you Kiyoko-‘ Are you fucking serious?!” You said with a cracked voice as you looked at him.

He put on a small smile for the act but on the inside it hurt him to see you like this, but the prank would prevail. “Baby, calm down.”

“I’m not gonna calm down Katsuki, you’re cheating on me!” You continued to go on and on about how pissed you were and Katsuki was struggling to hold back his laughs. He eventually got up to run to the downstairs bathroom so he could let out his chuckles. “Where the fuck are you going?! We’re not done with this conversation!”

Bakugou said nothing as he ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He bursted out in laughter as he crouched over due to all the excitement. He looked in the mirror and ruffled his hair a bit as he remembered the way you looked. The sad you would’ve made his heart ached but the angry you just made him laugh and kind of turned him on in a way.

After getting all his giggles out, he calmed down and got back into character. He opened the door to the bathroom only to see you walking down the stairs with your jacket and shoes on, carrying a small bag. “Baby?”

At the sound of his voice you only looked his way with a mean glare as you continued your walk to the front door. Bakugou ran to you as fast as he could as worry spilled through his body. “Baby, stop. Where are you going?”

“Get the fuck away from me. I’m done, we’re done. I’m going.” You said with a cold voice. Bakugou ran in front of you and held onto your arms as he pushed you back further into the house but you fought against his hold.

“Y/N, stop. It was just a prank.” Bakugou whined.

“Like I fucking believe that.” You said while trying to pry his hands off of you. Bakugou whimpered as he grew worried and felt himself getting choked up. He could feel the tears approaching but held them back. He could still save himself.

“Baby please. Come back upstairs, I’ll show you the camera!” He begged but you finally got his hands off of you as you ran to the door. You ran out the door and Bakugou grew frantic as he ran to the room to get the camera. When he came back down and ran out to the front to show you, you had already backed out of the driveway and were driving down the street. “Y/N!”

Bakugou ran back upstairs and into the bedroom to find his phone on the bed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He was quick to find your number and call you but you declined it. He called again a few more times and like before, you declined them. He called you so much that eventually, you stopped declining them and just began to straight up ignore them. This led to Bakugou leaving voicemails.

“Baby? Please pick up it was just a prank.”

“Y/N, I’m so sorry, I swear it was a prank! Please come back home!”

“Please come back Y/N! It was just a joke, none of it was real! Please answer me.”

“Baby, please come back. I love you.”

When he realized you weren’t going to answer, he opened up the messages with Kirishima and changed his name back before calling him.

“Hello?”

“Kirishima!” Bakugou said and his friend could practically hear the tears. “Prank went wrong! Went so wrong! Y/N fucking left! She didn’t even give me a chance to explain!”

Bakugou began hyperventilating as he tugged at his hair and looked around. He didn’t even focus on what Kirishima was saying as he looked around the once shared bedroom. He went through the closet and saw some of your clothes and shoes missing. Some of your makeup was off the vanity and when Bakugou looked to the nightstand to see the smashed picture frame that held the image of you both on your third year anniversary, he began sobbing.

“Please! Just fucking call her to explain! That’s all!”

“Alright, I’ll do it. Don’t worry, okay?” His friend replied to which Bakugou only hung up. He had every right to worry. His dumbass was about to lose you. Bakugou sat back down on the bed as he cried into his hands some more. He looked at himself in the large mirror hanging on the wall before scrunching his face and screaming.

“FUCK!” He shouted and threw something at the wall. He didn’t know what he grabbed, he just knew it broke. Bakugou flopped onto the large bed and cried some more as he waited for something, anything, to happen. But that night, nothing did.

—

3 days had passed and for 3 days Bakugou had constantly been calling you, your friends, your family, anybody he could do that he could reach you. He had constantly been crying and regretting pulling that stupid, stupid prank. It wasn’t worth losing you.

For the past few days, Kirishima had been checking up on Katsuki. He had been coming over a few times a day by using the hidden house key you both left under a rock on at the house entrance. On the third day, Bakugou told him to stop coming by and that he wanted to be by himself.

—

Bakugou had been hallowing in sadness on the bed until he heard the door open. He sighed again and walked to this bedroom door. On his way there he took notice of his appearance in the mirror and even though he was in the dark, he still saw his red, puffy eyes and tired face. He finally opened the door and walked to the living room so he could ward off his pesky friend.

“Shitty Hair, I told you that I didn’t wa-“ his eyes popped open at the sight he saw in the living room. He froze on the spot but felt immediate relief. “Y/N!”

“...Hi Katsuki,” you said in a soft voice. Bakugou smiled and instantly ran to you to pull you in for a tight hug. He squeezed you tight and grew joyous when he felt you softly hug him back.

“I missed you so much! I’m so fucking sorry, it was just a prank I swe-“

“Katsuki! I know, okay? Kirishima told Mina and she told me everything.” You explained and pushed him off slightly so you could face him. He nodded in understanding and you took note of his red eyes and nose. You sighed before speaking. “This is why we don’t pull pranks like this Katsuki!”

He sadly chuckled at you reprimanding him but nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah...I’m so sorry, Baby.”

“You should be! I almost actually left you!” You said with a little pout. Bakugou sadly laughed with relieved tears in his eyes as he held you.

“I know. I swear I won’t do anything like this again.” He promised.

“You better not.” You said, squished against his chest. You leaned up and kissed his cheek before you dragged him to the couch. You and Bakugou spent the rest of the day making up and cuddling. Everything felt so right again and Bakugou definitely learned his lesson.

A/N: not spell checked, sorry! Ummm…THIS KINDA SUCKED😭🤣

Tag list : @sxcker4you @aomi04 @tessabrown101 @ebiharachan @is-this-ash @iris-shihabi @sxturn-stars @isolight

[avarindigenous]

many meetings (or, the problem of interpretation)

the biggest issue when reading the Silmarillion and the Histories is, to borrow Reddit parlance, that many conflicts and many situations are firmly in the Everyone Sucks Here category. what side you find more sympathetic, and what you think the canon is saying when it relays particular facts, is going to depend upon you, the reader, and what you think those facts mean. this is a problem when it comes to productive conversation about the flaws in the text, or even about character traits that can be read in multiple lights.

consider Thingol. 

(this is a long post and I apologize to anyone on mobile who doesn’t see the cut.)

I read him as a ruthlessly imperialist, conniving, politically ambitious king who uses his keen awareness of the threats to his people to advance his own goals and prioritize his own safety. by my read, he perpetuates Sindarin-centric linguistic imperialism, holds himself and his followers above the Avari by refusing to count himself among the Moriquendi, and acts with canonical racism toward Beren and Túrin and his Mannish relatives (offering shelter and clothing and food to someone does not mean you’re incapable of being racist toward them. Túrin grows up in a court where he’s constantly exposed to anti-Mannish microaggressions, and Thingol does not do anything to stop those things from happening, and Túrin believes that nothing he could say to Thingol will convince the king to take his side. Thingol also tells Túrin that the highest he could hope to rise is as a servant to an elf-king. that is, to me, blatantly racist and demeaning. you can tolerate sharing a space with someone you’re prejudiced against and still be prejudicial).

he also might have manipulated Beren into causing intra-Noldorin political strife in Nargothrond and might have purposefully held off on sending help to the Laiquendi until it was too late and their king Denethor was slain. he only opened his borders to refugees from places where his blood relatives lived, and he mistreated the dwarves who ultimately and justifiably killed him. I also think that the fact that Oropher left his court and immediately set himself up as a colonizer-king of the Greenwood, and the fact that Amdir drove the Silvan elves out of Lothlórien and established a Sindarin settlement there, means that there is a strong supremacist strain of thought in Doriathrin culture. Thingol, as king, does not do anything to contradict that indication.

(note: upon rereading Unfinished Tales I have to acknowledge that I fell victim to the very biases I’m discussing - there is no direct indication that Amdir or Amroth had a purposeful, significant role in the decrease in Silvan population in Lórinand/Lothlórien. that’s certainly my read of the situation based upon the evidence in-text, but there are any number of ways to interpret the facts that are laid out in the Appendices of Unfinished Tales.)

everything I have said can be backed up by textual citation. there is substantial proof for my argument. I could take it further, even, and say that by my read there’s no evidence that Thingol’s guilt and grief over Lúthien caused substantial personal change in him beyond tolerating humans at the bare minimum level.

that, however, is only my read of the text. it’s a very important read to me. I find it difficult to be friendly with Thingol’s fans, because I think my read has canonical backing and makes the story make the most sense and is based on what’s really there on the page and not my desire to make someone else the good guy. but, I cannot argue that it is the only way anyone could ever interpret Thingol.

someone else might say that Thingol tried very hard to get to Denethor in time and failed, or that the reason he objected to being called Moriquendi was because he and his people rejected the idea of the Moriquendi-Calaquendi labeling system, or that he didn’t know about the abuse Túrin suffered because Saeros and the others were bullies and bullies are good at lying. they might say that his ban on Quenya was because he was genuinely afraid that the Noldor would insist on cultural homogeneity and would disregard the needs of his people. they might say he made mistakes but he wasn’t purposefully prejudiced.

that read is also canonically valid with plenty of the same points I would cite in my argument now being used to argue a different interpretation.

now, I would respond that this read is based less on the reality of what’s written in the text and more on the desire of those espousing it to dislike the Noldor, but that is again my perspective, and they would doubtless respond that I want to like the Noldor and want to paint them in a better light than they are actually portrayed. this is incorrect when it comes to me, as I eschew all fanon in my analysis, but others would certainly be in that position.

why am I talking about this? because from one side, Thingol is an ambitious, power-hungry king who holds himself above everyone else and who doesn’t hesitate to let his political opponents die for his own aims, and from the other, Thingol is a careful, defensive, flawed but well-meaning king who is justifiably concerned about the presence of Kinslayers near his people.

it’s not about what the facts of the story say so much as it is about how we, the readers, approach those facts.

this becomes relevant when we’re talking about racism and colonialism in Tolkien, particularly in situations where the narration is biased or the characters express bigoted views, or when it comes to things that happen in the text because the author was himself racist. different people are going to come to different conclusions about if something is racist, why it’s racist, what’s racist about it, and what the fandom could or should do to counter it. if one group thinks Thingol should be portrayed as a colonizer and the other thinks that the Noldor are the colonizers, both sides can be equally canonically grounded. neither one is necessarily correct (although I will, of course, have my biases and my counterpoints). there are a relatively small amount of cases where something in the text must morally elicit one specific reaction.

the situation becomes even more complicated when you consider that many things in Tolkien’s universe are perfectly reasonable in-universe, and make sense, and are not racist or problematic, but they exist in the text because of the author’s prejudices. an example would be Galadriel and Celeborn being asked to lead Lothlórien because of Celeborn’s kinship to Amroth, the last king. (this is the version of events recorded in the Appendices of The Lord of the Rings and is therefore the most canonical account.)

Lothlórien was colonized by the Sindar (nonviolently, true, but that doesn’t erase the colonialism) and Sindarin culture and ethnically Sindarin elves come to be the sole occupiers of that space. the only lasting sign of the Silvan elves is the language spoken by those who live in the Golden Wood. 

there are many ways to read this turn of events. a brief list would include:

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist who wants to rule her own kingdom, and she takes this leadership position and is presented as a good and heroic figure by the text, which means the text condones colonialism and imperialism.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist who wants to rule her own kingdom, but she is and has always been a morally ambiguous figure who grows over the course of her character arc into someone who rejects power and rejects this kind of venerated leadership. this means the text is critical of her actions and we are not meant to interpret her as a good person.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist and this means the Noldor are colonizers.

Galadriel is an imperialist and a colonialist but is only part-Noldor, and assimilates into Sindarin society to the degree of marrying a Sindarin prince and taking a Sindarin name to be her name. this means that the Sindar are colonizers.

every marginalized person who comes to the text is going to form a different opinion. we all like to talk about these opinions and debate them and argue about who is or isn’t more correct, and many fans will assume their reading of the text reflects the objectively true interpretation. that is untrue. no reading is invalid, but no reading is the only lens through which to read a troubling text.

the only certainty in Tolkien, really, when it comes to racism and colonialism, is that he was a racist who wrote about everyone in problematic ways and he has a history of ambiguity when it comes to colonialism. nothing else can be counted on, and nothing else should be taken as fundamental truth. this is the Silmarillion. no one here is a truly good person, except for Beren and Lúthien and Rían, and trying to argue that the truth is that one side or the other is more virtuous will accomplish nothing in the end.