#but like if you wanna write me an essay that's fine I'm just not really going to read it

[wenningfanclub]

this is so funny, like bud. you need to care less about what strangers on the internet think about your blorbos. I get what you're saying and I love wwx, but he did make a woman eat a chair leg and bite her lover's dick off, and I'm pretty sure that the Hague is not signing off on that one. and also everyone else is also pretty horrified by it! even number-one-wwx-simp LWJ is upset to the point of wanting to take him to Gusu to Fix Him because it's so unsettlingly violent, and understanding that he's Going Through It at the time doesn't make it less gruesome. I also personally feel like there's a point where the massacre at Nightless City stops being methodical self-defense and starts being a rage-and-grief-fuelled slaughter, but that's just me. and either way, it's still pretty horrifying, like a lot of people die pretty painfully and I'm not super into the idea that "they deserved it" discounts how brutal it is. it's still violent and horrible, and it's almost like the contrast between wwx's actions being both unconscionable and deeply sympathetic is what makes it such a compelling tragedy.

idk, I just personally think it's cool that wwx is a fundamentally kind, compassionate, moral person that sometimes does horrible, violent things due to being in increasingly impossible situations (and also due to his character flaws, which I for one think are very sexy of him to have but I'm guessing you don't). I feel like the contrast makes him compelling and interesting, but I also completed 9th grade lit class where we learned that protagonist ≠ everything they do is Right And Good. Idk, it's just a much less interesting novel if we mistake understanding and sympathizing with his actions for the idea that everything he does is therefore justifiable and morally good and correct. it takes all the nuance and complexity and tragedy that makes wwx such a good hero and just... erases it, because good people do good things for good reasons and bad people do bad things for bad reasons. it's such a disservice to how complex and compelling the characters and the novel are and a truly bizarre way to approach media, but like... go off, I guess? I don't really care that much about what you think cause like... you're an internet stranger and this is a book.

(rat is a compliment, tho, like: can survive on nothing, clever, gets into trouble on purpose, can chew through iron, collapsable rib cage, full of love... if I could photoshop a rat holding a dizi I would)

I don't think any protagonist can ever top Wei 'Yiling Laozu' Wuxian. No one is doing it like him. He is an icon. He can shoot arrows blindfolded. He is a prankster. He falls for a boy and decides immediately that he must have said boy's attention on him at all time. He is necromancer exacting his vengeance. He is just three years old. He is a flirt. He has his first kiss in his twenties. He does not remember your name. He does remember that one song his crush sang to him in a cave when he was injured and feverish. He is a sunshine boy. He survived the hell of hells. He died and was unhappily brought back to life. He's the bizarre genius, the miraculous hero, the force of the rebellion, the flower that blooms alone. He walks the single plank bridge alone. He is the awesome gay uncle who knows everything. He is a pretty boy. He is the most moral, steadfast person you know. He is just a man throwing flowers to his love. He rips his hard won talent out to repay a debt that never was. He is a sister's boy. He is an abuse survivor. He is an urban legend. He is one of the most handsome men of his time. He has so much trauma. He plants children like radishes. He threw the arrow he was shot with from a rooftop and killed someone. He is a talented musician. He is a scheming fox. He can drink you under the table. He is so fucking tired of this bullshit. He has probably long since burned his tastebuds with the spice he puts in his food. He is broke. He kisses skeletons on their hands in gratitude. He confesses his deep, abiding love in the middle of being held hostage. He attempts the impossible and succeeding. He is an untamed hero, standing against a world condemning innocent. He is everything.

[legandairy-horror]

Does anyone else feel a strange sort of dread waiting for new deltarune chapters?

It sounds crazy right? I admit it's a weird feeling for sure, and I'm not even 100% sure if dread is the right way to describe it. But as more info is revealed and the next chapter inevitably gets closer and closer to releasing I can't help but feel a strange sort of, melancholy? Longing? The only way I can describe it is "when you know the goodbye is coming". The strange somber feeling when you know you’re going to have to leave stuff behind, but aren't quite ready for it yet.

warning: words. Homestuck

In 3 months Chapter 1 will be 6 years old, and in 2 months Chapter 2 will be 3 years old. Deltarune is ostensibly in Early Access but this release schedule puts new chapters closer in time scale to whole sequals if anything, which they most assuredly are not trying to be. This has created a strange situation in the fanbase that I don't think I've ever truly seen anywhere else. One where, In the time between chapters It feels like everyone has had their own chance to decide what Deltarune is to them. To create their own version of this story, to write their own themes that they want to see explored, to imagine their own events and plot twists they want to see play out.

@lynxgriffin Paper Trail Comic Being an Alternate Story following off of chapter 1

@lilybug-02 The Chara Timeline Being one of many interpretations on the popular Asriel & Chara roommates headcannon.

@huecycles Andromeda Chapters being their interpretation on the full game

The innumerable Deltarune Theorists and analysts like HalfBreadChaos, Andrew Cunningham, Stuffed Alpaca, etc. etc.

@vyletbunni Deltatraveler being a whole ass fangame based around a chapter 2 meme that it has long since outlived

And that's kinda the thing isn't it? Once more deltarune comes out, a ton of these projects will just become outdated, it's an inevitability. So what will happen to them? will they become forgotten? maybe, maybe not, it's impossible to tell. but either way it feels kinda sad to think about yknow? that one day all the time and effort spent and all the memories made might one day just cease to exist.

There's a lot more I could say on this topic if given the chance but to keep this tumblr post from morphing into a 2 hour long video essay in text form let me leave off with this.

In the age of the internet and social media there will always be a fan of something. Nothing truly dies quite like it used to anymore, regardless of whatever influencers want you to believe. But that doesn't mean things stop changing, that there wasn't a past that has since been left behind. I'm a Homestuck fan. more specifically I'm a Late Homestuck fan, one who came in after the comic had already ended and it's peak in popularity was long behind it. The fandom's still around all these years later. But it'd be foolish to admit that, 8 years after the comics controversial end, the inescapable trend of new fans replacing old fans has left the fandom wholly disconnected from the monolith that it once was. the only remnants of which lie in decades old discourse and fanfiction. Like old relics of a long forgotten city, waiting to be excavated under a fine layer of dirt.

Before I close out here I just want to make it clear: I'm not saying that we should be trying to return to some nebulous "glorious past" that never really existed. I'm not trying to deride Toby Fox for not working in the sweatshop hard enough to produce more content™, or whatever you wanna try and spin-doctor this post into. It's just a thought that creeps into my head every now that I wanted to share, see if anyone feels the same, yknow?

Besides it's not all doom and gloom. For those of you OG Homestucks who read till the end. You remember Heinoustuck? Guidestuck? Nightfall? Fucking Ke$haStuck? yeah those are still going by the way! after years of inactivity they've now started back up again. some under new authors and some by the same author but still!

You could say a lot about that but to me at least, it makes me feels hopeful in a way. That, even if not everything will survive. we'll at least have some mementos to remember what came before.

[ineffable-suffering]

The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie

Otherwise known as (*takes a deep breath*): A completely inflated close-up look at various dialogues and events of Season 2 that prove that the Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Meeting Cotillion Ball was supposed to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley

Look, the point's been made before but that's never kept me from making it myself again, still. In fact, even I made it before, at the end of one of my other metas. But I feel like it's absolutely worthy enough to get its own soppy, way-too-long post. And I do love it so very much to write ridiculously long essays on something that could easily be condensed into a short paragraph.

So, here we go! Snuggle up, get cozy, settle in and, most importantly:

(Word count: 3.177 | Reading time: ~13 minutes)

As I already said above, I laid out a similar case in my meta about why Aziraphale is somewhat of an unreliable narrator. I'll try and recycle it here briefly, so I can further make my point.

When Aziraphale arrives back in London from his Edinburgh journey, he seems oddly happy and giddy for the fact that he just had a rather odd and threatening encounter with Shax. I explain in my other meta that this is because he just spent the last hours of his drive reminiscing on the thrilling and romantic magic show adventure of 1941 and also the fact that he just found out that Crowley has been replaced by Shax and no longer works for Hell.

Ergo: We have a hopelessly lovesick Principality at our hands, who's practically swooning over his serpent who saved him, his books and his magic show all those years ago.

Ergo:

✨This✨

Realistically, Aziraphale should probably be a tad worried about the eery encounter with Shax, in which she definitely had the upper hand on him. But well, if you spend many-a hours driving across the serene countryside (Edinburgh is about an 8-hour drive from London), pondering on one of the craziest, sticky-sweet romantic adventures of your not-life life, well ... things tend to turn a little rosy around the edges. Head in the clouds and all that. Light shades of grey!

Alright, onwards: Once the angel, filled to the very brim with fond memories and butterflies, gets out of the Bentley, he's kindly met with a face full of verdant plants and a very in-character-grumpy Crowley.

Fhwack! Way to burst the rosy bubble.

Seriously, the absolute lightning speed with which Crowley storms out to vacate the bookshop the very second Aziraphale arrives makes me giggle every time.

Let's make a first small (who am I kidding) diversion into analysing the following conversation in unnecessary detail ...

... simply because I enjoy quoting dialogue as an accurate reference in my metas. I'll also highlight certain passages I want to comment on in individual colours so I can back up my thoughts with them below. Alright, their little chinwag goes as follows:

Crowley: "They you are! I was worried something might have happened to you." Aziraphale: "No, nothing happened to me. Very uneventful journey indeed. No strange things at all." Crowley: "Good. That's what we wanna hear." Aziraphale: "Um .. everything okay with- ah.." *nods to the bookshop* Crowley: "Oh, yeah, fine. He's singing to himself. I think he must have been asleep. I heard snoring coming from his bedroom–" Crowley, to the Bentley: "Did you miss me? I bet you did." Aziraphale: "... I'm sure it did." Crowley: "So, any more clues from the mystery of the missing archangel?" Aziraphale: "Not exactly. Or, if there are, I haven't yet cracked the case. But I'm certainly hot on the trail of something." Crowley: "I'm sure you are. Oh, by the way, the whole sudden rain and awning thing was a complete washout." Aziraphale: "Sorry?" Crowley: "You know, project making Nina fall in love with Maggie. I failed, it's your go." Aziraphale: "I see. Well then, Whickber Street Traders and Shopkeeper's Association Monthly Meeting, here we come!" Crowley: "You're really hosting the meeting?" Aziraphale: "Absolutely! And I can guarantee you, it will be a night to remember."

At first glance, this has little to do with the plot of this meta but actually, it folds into my point very nicely! However, it's not time for that yet, so we'll just state the facts as they are for now and then bring them back 'round later when we need them. That being said: For the love of Someone, will these two ever manage to simply tell each other the truth of what happened instead of thinking they can protect each other by lying about it all the time? Hrmpf. As a big fan of open communication myself, I'm close to developing a stomach ulcer with the amount of false truths being spewed here. (Then again – and yes, that is another, way larger meta I'm currently cooking up – it plays so very perfectly into the whole Jane-Austen-Pride-and-Prejudice tragic miscommunication theme that this entire Season has, so I understand the point of it.)

Very uneventful journey indeed, Aziraphale, except for the fact that you were ambushed by a demon who told you she was Crowley's successor, knows about the rumors of the two of you being an item as well as what went down in 1941 (that almost had both of you exposed) and also seems to have figured out where you and your demon boyfriend are hiding Gabriel, all in the span of about a minute. No strange things at all, nooo!

And Crowley's "Oh yeah, fine" is a total lie too. Again, we see him make an absolute run for it before Aziraphale can even enter the bookshop. After all, he just once again witnessed Jim have a Gabriel-flashback, speaking of the Second Coming, while Crowley was alone with him. As fumingly angry he is with the amnesiac archangel – he's also absolutely terrified of what might happen (to him and Aziraphale) should Jim regain his memories. So, no wonder he's quick to vacate the premises after witnessing Jim's rather eery memory flashback (and was, just like Aziraphale, threatened by Shax mere moments later, lol).

But no, nothing out of the ordinary happened to either of them. Tip-top. Absolutely tickety-fucking-boo.

Alright, let's get back on track with the actual topic of this meta. Certainly hot on the trail of something, hm? At first glance, it might seem like Aziraphale is talking about the fact that Gabriel was in company of someone whenever he went to the Resurrectionist Pub. (The clue!) However, I don't actually think he is talking about that. Why? Because, and this slipped my mind too at first, he never actually follows any of this information up, does he? Yes, sure, he went to Edinburgh, found the capital-c Clue and then returned to London. But what does he do with it? Nothing. He doesn't keep investigating this hot trail because that's not the important thing he realized during his journey. No, the more important clue Aziraphale found during his trip, is that Crowley no longer works for Hell and that he is also very much irrevocably in love with him and must confess this at the earliest given chance. (The latter part isn't necessarily a new discovery for Aziraphale, but it surely is fuelled by the fact that he just realized Crowley's out of a Hellish job and simply hasn't told him yet.)

This exchange just the perfect indicator for the fact that Aziraphale, at no point during his drive back, was thinking about the Maggie and Nina mission. He has no idea what Crowley is talking about once he mentions it and seems surprised, even, that he would. Even though they just talked about it on the phone when Aziraphale was still at the graveyard. Which is another important piece of evidence because it means that the last status update Aziraphale got of Mission Lovebirds, was that Crowley had sensed an opportunity to make them fall in love – and had then hung up on him. Why is this important? Because it means that until that very point of their conversation, Aziraphale did not know that Crowley's attempt had failed! There would have been just as much of a chance of Crowley's weather miracle actually working out and Maggie and Nina already having skipped into the sunset happily ever after.

So, riddle me this:

Why would Aziraphale spend the entire ride back from Edinburgh plotting "a night to remember" (because clearly, he already had the entire Ball planned out down to a T in his head since he goes into action right away after arriving) if he didn't even know yet that Crowley's attempt had failed?

To be very clear here: We're not talking about Aziraphale driving on the M1 to London, having a silly little idea for putting on some good music, miracle-ing Nina and Maggie to dance to it and watch them confess their love–

No.

He planned an entire actual Cotillion Ball with very particular location design that involves re-arranging the entire bookshop, specifically designed individual outfits for (almost) every single attendee, topped off with a live band, hors-d'œuvre, drinks and an actual choreographed group dance.

During one car ride.

Where's the party planner Aziraphale AU? I'm waiting!

Now, sure, we know that it's still quite important for Aziraphale to convince Heaven of the faux-reason they gave for their accidental ✨25-Lazarii miracle✨. But if we're all honest, this all seems to be a tad much just to make two random humans fall in love, even for that.

Glittery ball gowns and suits? Red and gold wall curtains? A modified language filter? Bloody vol-au-vents?

Talk about over the top ...

Once we start S2E5, Crowley is still surprised at the mere fact that Aziraphale is actually planning to organize the Monthly Meeting – and he doesn't even know yet that it's gonna be the most extravagant ball-boogaloo that the Whickber Street Community has ever seen! Aziraphale wanting to organize the meeting alone, is enough to render Crowley incredulous, because Aziraphale never mingles with the other shopkeepers. He usually actively avoids them and any sort of social encounters as much as he can because he doesn't care about the bloody Christmas lights, alright?

These things seem mundane and uninteresting to him, obviously, since all he really cares about is hoarding his book collection in peace like the little hedonist he is and drawing as little attention as possible to his none-business business.

Oh, right, speaking of books:

Let's take another unnecessarily detailed look at the whole Whickber Street invitation scene:

Aziraphale realizes very quickly that he's not the only one who's quite unenthusiastic about the blessed Chritsmas lights. And despite his very persuasive methods of temptation ...

... he has to take some more drastic measurements. And those are?

That's right: Giving away his books.

I'll repeat it again, slowly: Aziraphale is willingly (!) giving away or lending his books to pretty much complete strangers to, allegedly, make two other humans strangers fall in love.

Seriously, who is that angel and what has he done with our prim, fussy, hedonistic Aziraphale that protects his books with the vice grip of an eagle carrying his precious prey?

Believe in the importance of Mission Lovebirds as much as you will, but we're talking about Mr. A.Z. Fell here who, over the past millennia, has pretty much spent every day actively working out methods to stop people from purchasing as much as a single paperback from his holy shelves.

And yet: the 1965 September Dr. Who Annual? Given away. The first edition of Expert at the Card Table that was S. W. Erdnase's personal copy? Lent away to grubby human hands to fondle around with.

Let's do another coloured dialogue diversion (don't worry, it's not as extensive as the last one):

Crowley: "You just did what I think you did?" Aziraphale: "I'm not prepared to talk about it." Crowley: "You gave away a book." Aziraphale: "I had to! Maggie and Nina are depending on me. They just don't know it yet."

Crowley backs up my point: This is a huge deal. Aziraphale does not sell his books – let alone give them away for free. We're all shocked! Flabbergasted!

And the explanation Crowley and us get just ... doesn't satisfy. Something and someone sure is depending on this Ball and doesn't know it yet. But it's most definitely not Maggie and Nina, folks.

You know for whom Aziraphale would give away his books in the blink of an eye, though?

Mhm, that's right.

This pretty old serpent.

I want to take a minute to show you the reaction again that Aziraphale has upon entering the very same magic shop him and Crowley went to in 1941 to acquire the Bullet Catch:

You ... you need a minute there, angel? You're sure looking a little ... affected.

And I mean, well, no wonder. He reminisced about that very memory four hours last night. To him, this shop is where the most turbulent, ecstatic, adrenaline-fuelled and romantic night of his life began. And it shows.

I've made my point in my other meta series about how Aziraphale is an incredibly nostalgic character. He romanticizes so many things in his memories – especially the parts that feature Crowley. So, it doesn't surprise me in the slightest that he's once again willing to loosen the tight grip he has on his book collection to get the successor of Will Goldstone's Magic Shop, the shop that started it all for him, to come to his fancy Ball.

As we watch Aziraphale and his little lap dog demon pat around Soho, I'd like to take another second to point out that he goes to seven or more establishments before he even invites Nina.

... and he only does so because she starts talking to them on the street. Almost like he'd forgotten about it. Why not ask her at the very beginning? To establish whether or not he'd have to book-blackmail her too?

"Perfectly ordinary invitation with no hidden agenda of any kind", except that he's using you and Maggie as a pretence to resolve his own clusterfuck of a relationship-miscommunication Jane-Austen-style so that he can then hopefully confess his undying love to his demon not-boyfriend boyfriend.

Marvellous!

You'll forgive me another short diversion but my God, the whole exchange at the Marguerite's restaurant with Crowley literally cat-call-whistling Aziraphale over to him (and Aziraphale checking if he meant someone else first, I–)? I am weak. So, so weak and

However, this is also when we get a snippet of Crowley finally revealing the truth in place of his "Oh, he's fine"-lie earlier and telling Aziraphale that he's actually pretty scared Jim might turn back into Gabriel and smite him altogether. And Aziraphale's response is, in a cosmic sense, (remember the pink paragraph now) so hilarious:

"Have you thought of just talking to him?"

Yeah, have you? Have any of the two of you? Just thought about talking? To each other? About anything?

'pparently not. But hey, it's all good because remember what the ultimate remedy for star-crossed lovers simply misunderstanding each other is?

Bish, bash, bosh, problem solved!

Back at the ballroom bookshop, Aziraphale sends Crowley to invite Maggie in order to, in my opinion, not spoil the Ball-y surprise for him. (Inviting Maggie only now?! Wouldn't she be one of the only two guests who really should attend? Why the short notice? If she's really that important for the Ball you're planning, hm?)

On top of this, we see Nina almost not attending the Ball meeting after her partner broke up with her and Crowley being the one who coincidentally runs into her and ushers her into the bookshop before Shax and her "legion" of demons start creeping up on them. Again, if this hadn't happened by pure coincidence, Nina would have left to go home and this whole Ball would have taken place without her, rendering the apparent sole purpose of making her fall in love with Maggie useless.

Why doesn't Aziraphale care more for both of them to attend and be there? Why is he instead busy fussing over everything looking perfect and wonderful and doesn't even seem to notice that both Nina and Maggie are really late to the meeting?

Well. Well.

The answer's in the title, babes.

Alas, Crowley safely gets Maggie and Nina to join them, Mr. Brown is the only one who doesn't get a miracled outfit (fussy, petty angel, you just don't like him, do you?), Jimbriel stuns with glamour and flirt (and whatever sexually suggestive thing he does with his cheeks) and the Whickber Street Ball is a-go!

Sorry, I just had to chuck this in again because Crowley's face here absolutely kills me every time. He looks so confused, I am hollering.

And the heart eyes Aziraphale is making at Nina and Maggie now that they're actually here?

Oh, bless it, angel.

He's all like "Oh look, it's working! Jane was right! It's all going to be resolved, all the misunderstanding and quarrels! Crowley, where's Crowley–"

Ah yes, there he is.

Ladies and gentlemen, this is an angel who is not listening to a single word being said right now. No, in his head, Aziraphale is already down on one knee, pouring his heart out to Crowley after they just danced the night away.

Oh, yes, right. The dancing.

Parallel much?

But well, as marvellous and beautifully romantic as her stories tend to be, it turns out that Jane Austen isn't always right after all. Because before we know it, the perfect night shatters into many-a tiny pieces (literally).

And once again, fhwack:

... the rosy bubble bursts.

Let's take one more deep breath so I can make my final point:

In S2E2, Aziraphale explains to us very exactly what Jane's Balls (hrhr) used to be about: Solving miscommunication and confessing love to one another.

During his car journey back from Edinburgh, Aziraphale:

doesn't know Crowley's Mission Lovebirds had failed

remembers 1941 and just how badly he's in love with Crowley

and also realizes that they seem to have been wildly miscommunicating for quite some time now. (Crowley didn't even tell him he basically got let go!)

So, what does maddeningly strong love plus a want to resolve all the miscommunication equal? That's right: A night to remember! A Ball to change it all! A dance, a vol-au-vent, a confession. And, ideally, a happy ever after. Because:

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man angel in possession of a good fortune Jane Austen collection, must be in want of a wife demon husband.”

The Ball was never for Nina and Maggie. As a byproduct, maybe, yes. But the whole rest of the glimmer and glamour, the careful, romantic planning and set up of it all, the book-bating the other shopkeepers– that was for Crowley and Crowley only.

And oh, if only it were as easy as in the books.

*whispers* I'm sorry, I had to.

***

Your honour, the tinfoil-hat crackpot defence rests. Feel free to share thoughts (and prayers) if you want to!

Au revoir! 💗

[alloftheimaginesblog]

feelings {peter parker tasm}

plot: you and peter have been friends since you were both knee height, now that you're both mid twenties you're busy navigating life and also the fact that you're both hopelessly in love with the other.

character: peter parker (tasm) x reader

requested by anon

Aunt May had always had her hopes for the two of you. She could see it coming from a mile away, honestly. She had raised Peter and had practically helped to raise you too since you were always over at the Parkers' house from when you could talk. She watched as you and Peter's friendship blossomed, watched as you helped each other through school, dealing with bullies and crushes and exams. She watched as Peter got and lost his first girlfriend and watched as you supported him through the loss of Gwen. He was there after your first relationship ended in turmoil and tears. She watched as you both got jobs and got places in college, both busy and yet both still making the effort to see each other. She watched as neither of you realised but you both started to fall in love. She had always known that there was something there.

She had tried to tell Peter just to help guide him to you when he was seventeen but Uncle Ben had told her to stop meddling in their nephew's life. "He'll figure it out in his own time, May. They'll realise soon enough." So Aunt May dropped it and continued to watch from the side-lines with a secret smile every time she saw the two of you.

Peter's leg was tapping away as he worked, he could never sit still, "You good, Parker?" You asked him. You were both busy with essays for your separate college courses but you always liked to work together. Ever since you were little you liked doing homework and the likes together. There was something about his presence, it calmed you and helped you focus.

Peter rubbed at his eyes tiredly, the stubble from neglecting to shave for the last few days was a feature you quite liked about him. Hope he keeps that beard, grows it out a bit more maybe. You frowned when you caught yourself thinking it, okay weird. He was your friend - your best friend - nothing more, nothing less. "I'm fine," Peter sighed, breaking you out of your thoughts, "hungry though... Wanna go for lunch?"

You laughed, "Think you mean dinner?" You teased, showing him the time on your phone, "We've been at this for hours."

"Shit, really? Wow... I better give Aunt May a call, let her know I'm okay. You know how she worries."

"Can you ask if I can come for dinner-"

"You're coming." Peter said, deadpan, as he called her, "Hey Aunt May, it's me. Me and (y/n) have been studying and doing essays since 11am and now it's nearly 5pm!" Peter's face scrunched, "What? No. We were writing essays - just writing essays."

You packed your bag as he finished his conversation, "She must've had a drink of something strong," Peter said as he hung up the phone, "She was convinced that we weren't studying. She kept hinting that we were doing something else like making out or something like that! Insane, right?!" Peter's laughter was loud and you didn't know why that hurt so much. Is it so awful to even think? Am I that unappealing to you? You forced a laugh as these thoughts spun through your head, "I mean, that's insane, right?"

"Absolutely." You nodded, smile falling as you grabbed your bags. Why did you care so much? You had no idea. You didn't know why you were so hurt by his comments. Peter was your friend, that was all... right? Surely there wasn't anything else there, right? Right? You cleared your throat, "Uh, you know, I actually forgot I have plans to get dinner with my family today, Pete." It was a lie and Peter could tell. He always could tell, he didn't need enhanced senses to know when you were lying.

"Oh," he frowned, "Are you okay?"

You nodded quickly, "Fine, yeah. I gotta go though, I'll see you later. Give May a hug from me." Quickly you darted out of the library before he could ask you anything else. Peter watched you go, confused and a little hurt. You had lied to him and that upset him more than anything. Why were you lying to him? Had he hurt your feelings? Peter didn't know but he was going to figure it out.

You had been avoiding Peter a little bit for the rest of the day. You were just trying to clear your head. You'd come to the realisation that you liked him... a lot. You didn't know when the feelings started or why today you were realising it but you realised as you couldn't stop thinking about him. You couldn't get Peter and his dumb laugh and stupid haircut out of your head.

Peter had been calling and texting you for the last few hours and was barely getting a response so he knew where you'd be. He knew that when you got upset and things got overwhelming, you'd be on your apartment buildings roof watching as the sun set. You knew that he'd find you, you didn't mind, you knew that sooner or later this conversation would have to happen.

He found you in your usual spot, sitting with a blanket and some coffee, "Hey," he said quietly, offering you a smile and extending his hand to show you his peace offering, "god you a donut from Sal's that you love..."

With a smile and a 'thanks', you took the donut from him and began to eat it. He sat beside you, stretching his legs out and dropping his bag to the side, "I think we need to talk," he said after a few moments.

You nodded as you finished your donut, "Yeah," you said, clearing your throat, "yeah we do."

"Look, I don't know what I did earlier but I'm sorry-"

You didn't know where the sudden burst of anger came from but the words were being yelled from your mouth before you could even realise, "Is the thought of being with me so repulsive?!"

Peter jumped back, taken aback, "Wh- What?!"

"Earlier!" You snapped, jumping up making him stand up too, "You thought it was hilarious and insane when May suggested we be together! Here I am realising that I care about you and you say shit like that- Shit." You slammed your hand over your mouth, whirling away from him as your heart hammered hard in your chest. You hadn't mean to explode like this but he'd really upset you earlier and you just couldn't keep it in.

"Are you saying that you've got feelings for me?" Peter asked, voice soft and gentle; calm despite his racing heart and despite your previous tone, "(y/n), speak to me."

"I-I-I don't know!" You wailed, head in your hands, "I don't know! I- I think so? I mean, I've just been feeling stuff that I never normally feel and I look at you and I get literal butterflies. I thought that shit was made up in Disney movies but I find myself smiling when you say my name, I feel excited when you smile at me... Yeah," you laughed incredulously, "I'm saying I've got feelings for you."

Peter was silent for a few seconds as he took in all of what you just said and then he said the most heart-breaking thing he could've said, "Oh."

And there it was. Peter's reaction. Oh. Your heart sank. Of course he didn't feel the same, of course he didn't. Why would he? The two of you were best friends so of course he didn't see you like that and now it was all fucked. You had just ruined your two decades long friendship over developing feelings for him. If you hadn't told him, if you'd have just shut up and kept quiet then you wouldn't have fucked everything up; things would be normal and you'd both be happy.

You pulled back immediately, putting your walls back up to save yourself any further embarrassment or upset, "I'm sorry, uh, never mind! Ignore everything I just said, it was a joke! Ha! Got you..." You gave a pathetic attempt laugh as tears burned at your eyes, "It was all just a joke!" Peter seemed to come back to reality as he saw you were getting upset. He said your name but you were shaking your head telling him to forget it, it was all a big joke, a laugh, it was fine. Peter knew that it wasn't a joke, he knew that what you'd said was real and he felt awful about upsetting you.

"(y/n), stop," he said loudly, cutting you off of your 'it was just a joke' ramblings, "I'm sorry for saying 'oh' I was surprised that's all! It wasn't a negative reaction or me rejecting you."

You looked at him, cheeks burning and tears slowly making their way down your cheeks, "Then what does it mean?"

"It means... holy shit, I can't believe you have feelings for me. I never thought you'd see me like that!" He grinned widely, "I've had a massive crush on you for forever."

Your jaw dropped. He had a crush on you? "Then why'd you say oh you stupid oaf!" You hissed but the corners of your lips twitched upwards.

"I-I was surprised! I never thought you'd ever like me back!"

"Of course I do," you said, "Pete, you've always been there for me. Always been so kind and you're so funny and... I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

He smiled at you, "I didn't think you'd ever feel the same... You're way outta my league, you always have been." He sat on the stone wall, patting it so you'd sit next to him, "We've been through a lot together, haven't we?"

You laughed, "You could say that again."

Silence fell and all of a sudden you were fifteen again crying into Peter's arms after your first boyfriend broke up with you for someone else. Then you were six and fake marrying Peter whilst Aunt May shook her head laughing. Then you were twenty getting into college and celebrating, ending up hungover and crashing at Peter's apartment for a night. Then you were eighteen finding out that he was Spider-Man and fainting from the shock of it.

He nudged you, breaking you out of your thoughts, "So what do we do now?" He asked quietly.

You shrugged, "I guess you take me out on a date," you suggested with a smile, "that little Italian place downtown. The one with the garlic twists."

"A date?" Peter smiled, "I can do that."

You looked at him, turning your body to face him, as his brown eyes caught the sun. You'd always known that he was handsome but my god, it was like you were seeing him in such a different light. The way his eyes looked like dark honey in the sunlight, the way his lips quirked upwards, the way the wind tousled his hair to perfection.

Peter couldn't take his eyes from your face. "God, you're so beautiful," he murmured quietly, eyes going between your eyes and your lips, "Can I-"

You cut him off by pulling him to meet your lips. It didn't feel weird. It didn't feel unnatural or anything like that... It felt... normal; right. It felt good. It was a simple kiss, only lasting a few seconds, but it was the best kiss you'd ever had. It was so full of emotion, so gentle and sweet and soft and you just melted into his embrace.

When you pulled away, neither of you could keep the stupid lovesick grins from your faces, "Aunt May is going to have a field day with this one," Peter laughed softly, "she's been trying to get us together for years."

[vibratingskull]

Hiiii I love your fics so much that I'm genuinely suffering from Yandere Thrawn Brainrot 😭 can I pretty please request Yandere Thrawn x fem reader where the reader is just accepting of his behaviour? like maybe she's a rebel who has been just abandoned by her friends so she just gives in because actually the attention he gives is really nice when she behaves or maybe she's one of the emperors daughters who is always kind of forgotten about in comparison to her sisters so Thrawns attitude isn't a red flag for her because he treats her so nice and has never once sidelined her or forgotten anything about her! I just think it's an interesting idea to play with like I'm sure Yandere Thrawn would be ecstatic to have a partner who doesn't bat an eye to his behaviour and soaks it up desperately, even the brothel fic you made could fit with Yandere Thrawn (look at how bad the brainrot is LMAOOOOO) ofc I'd have to request some smut in it like maybe he eats her out on his command chair 🤭 (that's all I can think about since the last Yandere thrawn AU you just posted haha make it as crazy as you want it to be tbh I love giving you full reign over this your smut is like high quality wine for me at this point!) Anyways! Before I get completely off track and send you a whole essay of ideas I just wanna say that I cheered when I saw your requests open and you don't have to write this idea or if you prefer to tweak it then that's absolutely fine! I hope you're doing amazing and I'm looking forward to your beautiful creations!!!

Yandere Thrawn is best boy, you cannot change my mind! He can be a murderous psycho or a complete puppy if you play your cards well. Aaaaaaaw thank you dear ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I'm really happy you like my silly stuffs, even the smutty ones (i'm so not confident about those), it will be a 2 parters !

ThrawnxF!reader

Tags: Yandere behavior (duh), possessive, painting, meet cute

You sigh, sitting alone at the table. You make your drinks twirl in your glass, silently observing the ballroom. Your hand supporting your chin you look at the couples dancing, the lively discussions around the room, the laughs and smiles, the kisses exchanged behind closed doors, and the champagne flowing freely. 

You catch one of your sisters dancing with a suitor, a metal and gaz magnate infinitely rich, they have been glued to one another during the entire party. You turn your head to see another one leading a political discussion with her natural charm, they all laugh at her witty comebacks and believe every word she speaks like gospel. You turn again to see your third sister on the stage, singing softly a beautiful melody, admired by the rest of the audience. 

And then there is you... 

The fourth. 

The last one. 

You do not have the charisma, the talent, or the political gene to rival any of your sisters. No one knows what to do with you. Everyone planned a beautiful future for all your three sisters to make the Empire shine brighter but you? Nobody has any idea. All your professors searched for a secret talent, a hidden jewel, hoping you are simply a late bloomer. 

But nothing came. 

Oh, you tried. You tried so hard! Spending sleepless nights working on your studies to at least hope for a well-made brain. But you are so average, both in looks and intellect. Nothing shines about you, nothing is worth noting. 

You sigh and finish your drink. 

Your only little quirk is your paintings. That’s the only thing distinguishing you from your sisters, you not failing art class. It is quite fondly regarded when you’re five but when you’re an adult princess of the Empire you need other qualities and skills than a good brush move. 

You just wanted to go to art school and live simply, not that overdramatic life wrapped in politics and secrecy. You wish not for the power and the riches, they bring you too much headaches. You want to leave the Palace, find a small apartment, get a cat, and for everyone to forget your existence and leave you in peace. 

But no... Not a chance. 

This very party is a shining example. It is officially a diplomatic meeting between high political top hats but the true goal of your father is to show off his daughters in the hope you find a future husband, wealthy and powerful, and then marry you off. 

Nothing more. Nothing less. 

You are a prop to your father’s politics. Good to lure a man and his funds into the imperial bank. 

And right now you are failing spectacularly. Now that you mind per se, but the man you call father and emperor will inevitably learn about that and you don’t want to anger him. You still value your life. 

You sigh again mentally preparing yourself to stand up and try to “seduce” men, feeling a headache rising, when- 

“Will you allow me to join you?” A rich deep voice makes you turn your head. 

Grand Admiral Thrawn, a hand on the back of the other chair of your table, is looking at you with a small grin and sparkling eyes. 

“Oh...” You can only say, surprised for him to spawn out of nowhere, “I mean yes! Of course Grand Admiral.” 

“Thank you, your majesty.” He bows his head. 

He elegantly sits down next to you. Even his manners are impeccable, full of grace and dexterity. You feel so slow and clumsy next to him. You see his long, delicate fingers hovering over the canapes before choosing one and lifting it to his mouth to bite into it.  

Maker, even Military officers are more dignified than you... You subconsciously straighten your back to at least match the energy he brings to the table, trying not to appear too sluggish.  

You know this man for being the first and only alien to have reached the Grand Admiral rank, which is really impressive, you will give him that. He always struck you as a balanced and polite man. He revealed himself as an art enjoyer on your first meeting and very nicely proposed himself as a model for male anatomy. You accepted and you meet every other month when he comes back from his campaigns. He lets you draw and paint his body in silence for long hours before coming to take a look and give you advice from time to time. 

And then he leaves. And that’s the end of that. 

Or it is the end of your relationship because he seems to roam around the residency aisle of the palace a lot. Numerous times you caught the back of his head disappearing behind a corner when you left your studio after a long painting session. You have no idea what he comes here for in the residency wing of the Palace, nothing interesting for a Grand Admiral around here. 

As a matter of fact, you do have an idea why he comes to this part of the Palace, you suspect he comes to visit one of your sisters regularly. And he must be seriously enamored for risking the wrath of the Emperor! You don’t even want to imagine his reaction if he discovered the Alien got access to one of his dear eldest! 

You just hope the sister in question takes her precautions to not get caught. 

That would also be a huge waste for the Grand Admiral, if an alien such as him managed to reach this rank it means he must be terribly good at what he does! Not that the Emperor shares any tactical info with you, his daughters, it is a simple observation. And he looks rather dashing too... Your vain side would be devastated to learn such a handsome man would be executed, that would be such a loss for the Galaxy you nod to yourself. 

You remain silent, observing the guests and your sisters shining in their dresses and jewelry. They are so radiant, you think with envy. Typically the type of women a man as handsome as the Grand Admiral would pursue, they are in the same league. 

Contrary to you. 

You start feeling a tingle at the back of your neck and you turn your head to discover Grand Admiral Thrawn silently looking in your direction smiling softly. You spin your head again to see what he might be watching with such tenderness in his red gaze, only to see... 

Nothing?  

You frown. 

“It is you I am looking at.” Thrawn’s deep voice rises again, with a touch of controlled amusement. 

You turn back to him with an embarrassed smile. 

“Oh, I just thought you saw... Nothing.” 

He tilts his head slightly. 

“What did you think I saw?” 

“I don’t know, something interesting.” You take your glass to your lips to sip, feeling your throat going dry. 

“But I am looking at something interesting. The most interesting person in this room.” 

Oh okay. 

You know where this is going, you know that sweet sugary tone. 

“What do you want Grand Admiral?” You put your glass back with a clank, “What demand do you want me to ask my father?” 

He cocks his head again, squinting like he didn’t understand your question. 

“I have no demand to ask your father.” 

“Of course you don’t.” You snort. 

They always do that. Come with a sweet voice and a compliment and then beg you to interfere with your father in their favor. 

You are no political genius but you recognize a freeloader when you meet one! 

“You always come to me! You think I am the weakest and easiest to manipulate for your benefit, you come with doe eyes and then ask outrageous demands, in the hope of gaining political powers. Well, I am sorry, go knock on another door!" You speak irritated but low to not start any drama. 

Vice Admiral Thrawn blinks at you. He shakes his head, trying to disarm the situation. 

"I assure you, Your Majesty, I did not come to ask any political favors of any kind.” He reiterates softly, “I simply saw you, so beautifully dressed and dolled up and could not help but come to you.” 

You sniff with disdain. Lies. If he doesn’t want political favors from your father then he wants access again to one of your sister's beds, another classic you had to deal with!  

“I am sorry Grand Admiral.” You say coldly, “I have nothing to give you.” 

His smile widens and you hear a low chuckle. 

“But on the contrary, it is me who wants to give you something, Your Majesty.”   

You look at him suspiciously as he takes something from his pocket. He puts a little box hermetically sealed in front of you. You tentatively take it and open the lid to discover a colorful powder in a tangerine shade. 

You look at him mouth agape and mute with surprise. 

“I heard you needed this shade to finish your latest painting.” He says softly, “I traveled the galaxy and found this powder made from local seashells in an isolated world. I saw it and knew I needed to get it for you.” 

This shade... 

Is the exact one you need, down to a t. 

“How... How did you...?” 

“That is not important, Your Majesty  I know how much you care about this painting and wanted to help you.” 

This painting, you saw it in your dreams. 

It was a flash of a faded memory of your dead mother, smiling at you before the sunset. Long, long ago... 

This powder is the perfect shade for her eyes... 

“Oh dear Maker...” You start sobbing, hiding your mouth behind your hand. 

“Your Majesty?” Grand Admiral Thrawn asks, “Are you all right?” 

You nod, wiping any tear that might have rolled down your cheek, getting back control over your sobs. 

“Yes... Yes. Thank you Grand Admiral, this is a very thoughtful gift.” You smile at him. 

Now you feel dumb to have given him the cold shoulder. 

But how did he know about that painting? You don’t remember talking about it to anyone? You specifically hid it behind a sheet. 

“You are welcome, Your Majesty. It is my pleasure.” 

His hand furtively reaches yours and caresses your finger with the tips of his own. You let him do it. You don’t know why. It is simply not unpleasant... 

“I just thought... I’m going to sound stupid, bear with me, I thought you wanted to use me to get close to my sisters.” You chuckle embarrassed, “It is a bit stupid...” 

“Why would I want to get close to your sisters when you are here?” He asks. 

“Because... I am just me.” You shrug like it is evident, “Nobody knows what to do with me.” 

“I have plenty of ideas of what we could do together.” He whispers, taking your hand gently to kiss it, his red eyes looking brazenly at you. 

You feel heat spreading on your cheeks. 

“Vice Admiral!” You choke “How dare... We are in the middle of a ballroom!” You chastise him. 

“We can leave anytime you desire...” He licks your knuckles with the tip of his warm tongue, looking insolently at you. 

You feel yourself melting into a puddle at that gaze on you. So many unchaste images cross his read shining eyes while devoring you. You feel stripped naked before him. You gulp and turn your head away, you cannot hold his gaze, you feel like you’re about to combust. 

He chuckles and kisses your hand again. 

“I am merely joking, Your Majesty. I know you cannot simply fool around with any man. But maybe  you will allow me this dance?” He stands up, still holding your hand but awaits your response. 

You gingerly look at him. Dear Maker, he is so tall... 

He looks at you with a small smile, gently squeezing your hand. 

“I... Can allow one dance.” You concede. 

“You are so generous with me, Your Majesty. I thank you.”  

He helps you stand and guides you to the dancefloor, his warm hand on your lower back. He spins toward you and grabs your hand, pressing your two bodies together. 

“Hold on to me, Your Majesty.” He says sensually. 

And he makes you spin and twirl on the dancefloor, holding you so close you can feel his high body warmth through your clothes. He is a very, very good dancer you realize.  

The dance starts normal and modest as it should be but it slowly dissolves into... something else.  

You can feel his large hands roaming your entire body, playing with the straps of your dress, raising the hem of your dress to touch your naked thigh, he grabs the pin and frees your hair in your back, he grabs your hips to press them against his in a sultry move, almost grabbing your butt... 

It feels like he is making love to you, fully clothed and in public. You fail to put a stop to it and protect your modesty, he is just so good at it that you blindly follow him, losing track of time. 

You gulp, losing your breath as he makes your head spin dangerously. He never once stops looking at you, devouring you with his shiny rubies, hunger lying deep in them. 

You are breathless, straps down your shoulders, your skirt high on your thighs and your legs trembling terribly, threatening to give out under you if Grand Admiral Thrawn wasn't holding you firmly against his tall body. 

“Gra.. Grand Admiral...” You can only say. 

“Is there a problem, Your Majesty? We are simply dancing, like I promised we would only do.” 

“This is not a dance! This is...” You try to get angry at him but your beating heart only pumps blood to your cheeks even more. 

“You did not stop me once.” He tilts his head, “If you said no I would have stopped immediately.” 

“Someone could see us! Someone-” 

“There are a lot of people around us. They hide you perfectly, no one will ever know. You can let go entirely, let me guide you...” He whispers sultrily in your ear.  

His hand on your back slowly caresses his way down towards your butt and his hand on your leg slowly brushes his way up towards your crotch. 

This... This is so indecent! 

So scandalous! 

So obscene! 

So... 

You should slap him across the face and ditch him there but you want more of it. You feel fire starts in your loin, slowly spreading in your veins, coursing through your entire body.  

Quite unexpectedly he lets you go. You look at him without understanding, he grins and kisses your hand gallantly again. 

“Have a nice evening, Your Majesty. Thank you for this... Delicious moment. I will see you for our next modeling session.” He rolls his ‘R’ like a purr and leaves. 

Did he... 

Is he the one who ditched you? At the height of the tension? When you were about to say ‘yes’ to him? You remain standing still in the middle of the dancefloor, mouth agape, breathless, hair and dress in a mess. You walk back to your seat, your legs wobbly at every step. 

You feel played. 

How dares he come around to set you on fire and just leave you, arms dangling, craving for so much more?! Such a ... Tease! You readjust your dress modestly, making sure none of your sisters saw anything of this... Outrageous display. None of them are looking in your direction, they are fully focused on their friends or songs. 

You sigh, feeling like an idiot. Typically a thing that wouldn’t have happened to your sisters, they would have either put a stop to it or enchanted him so much that he would have dropped to his knees, begging for more of them. 

You're the only one dunce enough to get played like that. 

But... You cannot help but like it. It felt good to be someone’s center of the universe, even for two fleeting minutes, feeling his daring hands exploring your body so... immodestly. No man ever treated you like that, even less a man so handsome... 

You shake your head. Stop that! It is blind lust speaking. 

Your eyes lay down on the little box. You reopen it, to be sure of its content. Exactly the pigment you needed, the exact shade and vibrance...  

How did he know? 

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

The first time he saw you was during an Imperial ceremony, from far away. The youngest of all the daughters, dressed in gold, pearls, and Orichalc. He was still a simple commodore back then, without as much power to himself. He was from very far away, not able to discern the features of your face, but it was clear from your body language and posture you didn’t want to be here. 

Like himself. 

Pryce was unavailable, a rarity for a shark like her to miss a political event like that, but she pressed him to go, to form alliances with as many senators as possible. How on the Warrior’s Blue Csilla was he supposed to do that? He is surrounded by sharks and snakes ready to eat each other for their selfish benefits, something so beyond him he simply forgets this is actually a thing people do instead of worrying for the good of the many... 

Saying he was terrified would be false, but saying he was comfortable would be a lie.  

It takes a lot to make him uncomfortable, but politicians always do the trick.  

So in a weird way, he felt kinship towards you. He knew nothing about you, he was not even sure of your rank at that very moment, but like him, you wished you weren't there at that moment. 

The massive difference was that he was anonymously sitting in the grandstand while you were on the big stage, to be looked at and admired like a pretty doll by everyone else. How uncomfortable it must feel... He felt sorry for you. 

Despite your discomfort, you accomplished your duties with grace, obeying your role. It was commendable of you.  

“Who are those young ladies on the side of the stage?” He leaned towards his sit neighbor. 

“Do you live under a rock? They are the Emperor’s daughters, the Imperial princesses.” He got chastised. 

He nodded thankfully and returned to his silent observation of the ceremony. 

It was not so long in retrospect, but isolated on this stage it must have felt like an eternity for you. 

After the ceremony was the real challenge for him, for two hours he had to remain comfortably seated in silence to observe a stage, now he was truly meant to go out of his way and meet politicians.  

He had to take refuge to the buffet or the corners of the room more than one time. Why can’t he read and anticipate politicians’ maneuvers? Why was he so blind to this type of warfare? After a new uncomfortable discussion that ended up with him pissing off his interlocutor because they couldn’t meet eyes to eye he caught a cozy area, almost hidden behind heavy curtains with sofas and a fountain, isolated from the rest of the busy party. He entered, hoping to find some peace and quiet but he found a young woman here, dressed in gold, pearl, and Orichalc. 

“Your Majesty.”Thrawn bowed respectfully, “I did not want to disturb your peace, I will leave.” He immediately excused himself and turned to go away 

When... 

“You may stay, sir.” You simply responded, not even looking up from your drink twirling in your glass. “I do not mind...” 

“I thank you, Your Majesty.” He bowed again and took a seat. 

Not on the same sofa as you, it would be terribly improper to impose his presence on a woman like that. He chose one a little removed from you to leave you in peace. 

He was gathering his thoughts, but you kept catching his eyes, something about you was...interesting him. And he didn’t know what, nor the true nature of his interest in you. 

“What?” You asked out of the blue, “You keep giving me side glance, you never saw a woman before?” 

“My apologies, Your Majesty. It was impolite of me” 

“Yes, it is. My father killed men for less than that.” You added acidic. 

Something in your tone and demeanor... Like a heavy lassitude, like you were crushed by something. But what? 

“I will keep it in mind, then. Thank you for the warning, Your Majesty.” 

You sniffed with disdain before looking back down to your drink. 

“So it’s you....” You finally added after several minutes of silence, “the Navy’s favorite pet.” 

He turned back his gaze to you, squinting. 

“The Navy’s pet?” He repeated politely. 

“The only alien in the Navy, and a Commodore at that. You pissed off a lot of people, my congratulations.” 

He was not able to judge if you were sincere or sarcastic. 

“I do my best to do my job. But some people never seem satisfied, I cannot do anything more to content them, I am afraid.” He humbly admits. 

“Like me.” You let out with a little voice. 

You did not say more and he did not pryied. 

“Why are you not enjoying the party, Your Majesty?” He asked, curious, “Your sisters are getting their fill.” 

You snarled in response. 

“If you came here to flaunt my dear sisters in my face you can leave, sir.” 

“My apologies, Princess. I was simply curious why a young adult would not enjoy such a party.” He explained. 

You turned your head and for the first time your gazes crossed. 

“What about you? You do not seem the type to enjoy parties either.” 

“My young years are behind me.” 

You frowned. 

“Are they?” 

Well technically he is still considered rather young for Chiss standards with their longer lifespan but for humans, he is middle-aged. But you don’t know that. 

“I am over 45.” He informed you. 

The way your beautiful human eyes rounded up in surprise was quite delectable. 

“You’re kidding.” 

“I am not.” 

“You barely look 35.” You responded astonished. 

He came to understand it was a compliment on his physical appearance. Something he was not used to. 

“I thank you, your Majesty. You look ravishing yourself.” 

He stopped dead. Was ‘ravishing’ too much? How do you respond politely to a woman appreciating your physical appearance, and what is the proper and polite response when that woman is an Imperial Princess? 

You gauged him up and down before exploding laughing. 

Not one of those overly musical and false laughs of politicians and freeloaders, a true, pure, and sincere fit of laughter. Something coming directly from the heart. 

Something fresh. 

He remained still, not knowing how to react. Your laugh was quite pleasant to hear, and the smile you tried to hide behind your hand enhanced your features gracefully.  

“Oh Maker.” You breathe to calm down, “You are quite funny, sir!” 

He failed to see what was funny in his response but he was not starting to question a Princess. You sighed deeply, still shaken by the remnants of your laugh. At least you were smiling now, that heavy sentiment hovering over you seemed to have disappeared. At least for now. 

“Thank you, your Majesty.” He diplomatically responded. 

“So tell me truly, why did you come hiding here?” You asked, a bit more lively. 

This time he was the one looking down at his drink for a fleeting moment. 

“Politics... Evade me entirely.” He finally reveals. 

“Same.” 

He looked at you curiously. 

“But you are a Princess of the Empire.” 

“That doesn’t mean I can lead. I dislike politics. I prefer my studio.”  

A studio? The type he is hoping for? 

“What type of studio?”  

“Oh ... Just.” You gave him a side glance and lowered your gaze, embarrassed “No. You will find it stupid.” 

“I will not judge, Your Majesty.” He solemnly declared. 

“I ... Paint. A little...”You revealed, fidgeting your fingers. 

His heart jumped and all of his social anxiety and restraints lifted up like a cloud. You paint? It’s marvelous news! He loves paintings, why not tell him sooner? 

“This is not stupid, Your Majesty. Art is a very noble and respectable hobby, I am a humble art enjoyer myself.” He explained calmly, keeping his growing enthusiasm on a leash. “Would you have pictures of your work to show me by any chance?” He daringly asked 

You looked at him absolutely horrified.  

Please, do not look at him like that...It displeases him, even though he doesn’t quite know why. 

He likes it when women are comfortable with him, it is gratifying to be perceived as a protector. He wants you to feel relaxed around him. 

Especially you 

For some unknown reasons... 

“I... No!” You hurriedly responded. 

He tilted his head. He wanted to see some of your work. It is so important for artists to be seen and perceived for them to flourish in their talents. 

He just wanted to give you a positive boost... But you denied him. 

“I understand.” He responded, a bit disappointed to have lost this opportunity to speak about art. 

You looked at him, embarrassed before rising on your feet to close the curtain entirely, giving the little salon a cozy and very intimate atmosphere. You took out your imager of your little purse and approached him shyly, suddenly self-conscious. 

He looked at you approaching with an impassible expression, but hope constricted his heart. 

“Do you promise to not mock me?” You asked like you weren't an Imperial Princess with significant powers. 

No. At this very instant you were a shy, but hopeful young artist, ready to expose herself intimately to a fellow art enjoyed, pressing your imager against your chest.  

You were taking a leap of faith... 

And he was ready to catch you in his arms. 

“I never mock an artist, Your Majesty.” He declared with all the serious in the world. 

You gulped and sat down next to him, handing him the imager with a slightly trembling hand. 

“This is not very good...” You warned him. 

Who cares? If you are a beginning artist with a low level he will be more than happy to give you references and art currents to study to help you in your art journey. 

But you were actually really good with a brush. No need to get all shy about it, you should be proud of your paintings! 

You studied a lot of subjects and tried a lot of different techniques and materials, your style could be soft and appeasing with pastel colors, bold and brash with vibrant brush strokes, or gloomy and eerie, creating a haunting atmosphere. 

But no matter how different your paintings might be there was one very clear constant for him. 

Your innate good and soft nature. 

Not in a fragile or virginal way, no. But something bright, shining like a real sun, luminous, warm, inescapable, and unstoppable... 

How could you be Emperor Palpatine’s daughter? 

How was that possible? 

He silently observed your work under your worried gaze, awaiting his judgment. It is clear you hid this part of yourself from everyone else, and maybe he was the very first person who took interest in your hobby, the very first one you let gaze upon yourself so intimately like that... 

Because it was very intimate, he knew it. He stripped your soul naked before him and he ogled without any shame, taking as many details as he could. 

And he very much liked what he saw. 

Where were gentle souls like yours in the galaxy? They appeared so rare and he would very much appreciate one in his life. A friend honest and deeply good by nature... 

That sounds terribly enticing to him. 

He knew nobody on Coruscant, spending his entire leaves in art galleries. But maybe now he could visit them with a nice company at his arm? Simple rendezvous filled with passionate discussions about art, speaking and debating a subject until you both lose your voices and only look into each other eyes to continue the discussion. 

That sounds terribly nice... 

But you are a Princess and him a Commodore. How would that work? He was not even sure he had the right to be in the same room as you.  

But the idea was just so nice... An art partner, being friends with an actual artist, getting to witness the intricate process of creating a masterpiece.  

That is just so alluring to him... 

“So?” you asked with a short breath. 

“This is high-quality work, Princess. You have an undeniable talent and obviously worked really hard to get to this level.” He praised, “I can only encourage you to continue.” 

“You think... I could live on my brush one day?” You inquired, hope lying in your voice. 

“It is a real possibility, I can see it happening.” He nodded with a tight encouraging smile. 

“... Thank you.” You let him knew, “I...” 

You seemed to be about to say something else but suddenly jumped on your feet, the heat signals of your face through the roof. 

“I need to go! Good evening Sir!” And like that you left him, speechless, still holding your precious imager. 

Maybe the tension of showing your art to someone else for the first time was too much for you. This was quite endearing and he let out a little chuckle amused. 

He resumed his art exploration on your imager, he will find a way to send it back to you. 

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

He didn’t sent it back. 

He kept it, he has it every day in his inner pocket, close to his heart. He rummages through it when he can, seeing you through the pictures, getting to know you through each paint stroke.  

He innocently thought about you two becoming art friends to satisfy his knowledge cravings, but instead, he developed an... interesting bound with you. 

Without your knowledge.  

He tried several times to come to see you at your art studio to give it back, only to remain at the door, silently spying on you painting through the cracked door. 

He wished not to disturb the holy inspiration flow so precious to artists. He would break your entire rhythm if he knocked at the door and stopped you. 

How could he dare disturb the process of art? Especially yours? So he remained at the door for long hours until you decided to exit the room or he heard someone come by. 

When you weren’t here he forced the door open to tidy up the place and look at your last pieces. 

But one day you were simply preparing yourself to paint so he entered. Unannounced, unwanted he walked in like he owned the place. You didn’t see him at first, focusing on your flimsy sheets when you raised back on your feet to discover him observing your latest piece with attention, his hand holding his chin, appreciating every detail. 

“Oh dear Maker!” You jumped back. 

He turned his head to you with a tight smile. 

“My apologies, Princess.” He said not at all sorry. 

“What are you doing here?!” You asked in some sort of panick. 

“Your father requested my presence today, and I had hoped to be able to catch you paint.” He mundanely explained it like it was evidence. 

“And why is that?” You asked suspiciously, hiding some sketches behind you. 

“My apologies Princess, I got ahead of myself. I have something belonging to you and wanted to give back.” 

He took out the small imager of his pocket to hand it to you. He already has several copies and backups of all your art. 

“My imager!” You shouted, relieved. “Where did you get it?” 

“You actually gave it to me years ago when I was still a Commodore.” He explains gently. 

You took the imager back and looked in the gallery, with an elated smile.  

“I don’t think I ever caught your name, Mister.” You raise back your clear gaze at him. 

Of course, you knew his name, he was the only alien of the fleet, surely his name traveled the corridors of the Palace and he knew it. But Politeness and etiquette demanded you asked. 

And you are a very polite woman. 

He put his right hand on his heart and bowed to you. 

“I am Vice Admiral Thrawn. I am delighted to meet you again, Your Majesty.” 

You elegantly bowed back. 

“I am (Y/n) (L/n).” 

“Are you not a Palpatine?” Thrawn tilted his head. 

You bite your lower lips, like you spoke too much. 

“I... Prefer to identify with  my mother’s name.” You explain. 

“It is a very beautiful name, it suits you marvelously.” He reassured you, “Do you mind if I remain for your next session? I long to observe an artist in their element.” 

“Oh well...” You spin your head towards the holo clock on the wall and all of your glee seems to melt, your smile disappearing, “I am afraid there won’t be a session today... Yet again.” 

Thrawn squinted. 

“Is there a problem, your Majesty?” 

“No its...” You sighed deeply, “Another model ditched me apparently. He should have been here an hour ago...” 

“If you allow me, your Majesty, I can replace him if you wish.” Thrawn proposed immediately. 

“I...” You purse your lips, thinking “I usually book models for three to four hours, are you sure you have that time?” 

“I do today.” He answered politely, hiding his enthusiasm, “By a splendid hasard I have nothing booked for the rest of the day. I can model for you as long as you need.” 

He very carefully planned today’s agenda to have his afternoon and evening free after his visit to the Emperor. It will postpone some operations on the Chimaera, but nothing he cannot catch up on, he made sure of it. 

You hesitated, your gaze traveling from Thrawn’s stern face to your flimsy sheets. 

It is the fifth model ditching you. 

The fifth Thrawn got rid off.  

Cleanly. 

Discreetly. 

When he entered your studio in your absence he got the occasion to detail your work and picked up on your... attraction, towards those young men. 

Something that infuriated him greatly, even though he wasn’t sure why. He never felt like that before, longing for your presence, to get to know you better and well. This is a very new sentiment to him, he desires to be with you, to listen to you talk, to help you, to just be here in the same room as you. You could be silent and still, sitting on a pedestal and he would sit and look at you with all his attention, trying to pierce your secrets. 

Why are you doing that to him? Where does this deep sentiment of covetousness come from? Right now he just wants to grab your hand and flee away from the Imperial Palace with you, take the first shuttle and take off for the never-ending universe, take you far away from that man you call father and Emperor for you both to live free. 

He always feels so cold all day long, but in your vicinity, everything warms up, the ice melts, and the sun dares from its rays on his flesh, bringing him back to life and waking him up from a long coma. Laying his gaze on you he feels like opening his eyes for the first time and taking his first breath. 

Is that... Love? 

Did Cupid finally hit him with an arrow after ignoring him all his life? 

He quite likes how that sounds. 

He wants more. So, so much more... 

But for now, he looked at you hesitating, patient, with a tight polite smile of someone only desiring to help. 

“Well... If it isn’t too much trouble for you, I would appreciate it. What about a portrait to start?” 

“But of course, Your Majesty. I am here to serve.” He bowed his head again deeply pleased that his plan worked. 

He cannot help but wonder, how do you see him? Is he handsome or repulsive to your eyes? Is he powerful or weak? 

He will soon know it through your primary sketches... 

------- 

“What are you thinking about Grand Admiral Thrawn?” You call him back to reality 

Thrawn blinks, realizing he is posing for you once again in your studio. It is quite rare that he lets his memories take the forefront of his mind but his mind drifted off observing you painting him like that. 

You took great care to not look at him in the eyes since that party and he is greatly pleased by the turmoil he stirred within you. Today again you cannot look in his direction without your face’s heat signals rising. 

How delectable... 

You draped a long fabric on him and gave him a staff to hold, ordering his pose, and started to paint. Holding the pose is hard but that only pushes him to appreciate art even more. He feels your focused gaze skimming his skin, detailing his muscles, observing the crooks and crannies of his flesh, taking in the different shades of blue of his skin. 

He feels his heart accelerating with your eyes traveling his naked form. 

He never exposed himself in such a way to anybody before. 

It is so intimate. 

So erotic... 

He feels great under your gaze, he feels... Empowered. Like he could become what he was always meant to be under your brush, that through your gaze he truly could realize himself. He feels his chest puffing up with pride and satisfaction. That surge of warmth spreading in his chest and heart when your eyes skim his skin feels so soft and right... 

“You truly have mesmerizing eyes, I hope I will be able to do them justice...” You say almost to yourself, fully focused on your sketch. 

“We could do a series of portraits after, you could study them in detail.” He proposes. 

“Thank you Grand Admiral.” You smile. 

“Please, call me Thrawn, Your Majesty. I am a simple man at your art service in this room.” 

“Then call me (Y/n).” You decide, “Let’s just be a man and a woman for this afternoon.” 

“I simply cannot, Your Majesty. You are an Imperial Princess, I cannot address you with such familiarity.” He counters. 

Who is he to address you so casually? He will not strip you down of your titles and grandeur.  

You pout, visibly displeased by his response. 

“All right...” You say very disappointed. 

He clenches his jaw, conscious of his misstep. 

“If you truly desire it, I will address you as you wish (Y/n).” He responds softly. 

But in his mind he will keep using your titles, they suit you so well. 

You nodd enthusiastically, relieved by his new response. 

“Do you want to take a look?” You ask. 

He descends from the pedestal and passes on a gown to modestly cover himself, but he doesn’t close it, coming to admire your genius on the canvas, discovering himself through your own eyes. 

You take a picture with your imager that he gave back, adding it to your collection. His heart sprints at the view of the imager in a very Pavlovian response. 

He had... other uses for your imager. 

He will never admit it, not even under torture, but... He furiously masturbated several times using your art collection on the imager. He has no rational explanation for it. One day he was terribly bothered, to his utmost inconvenience, and hoped that some nice paintings could distract him. 

But instead  

He just got such a clear picture of you, of your good nature, of your amazingly sweet personality that he became hard like wood, worsening the situation. He found a self-portrait of yourself, looking straight back at him with such a clear and assured gaze... And he just lost it. 

He fisted himself, entranced by those expressive eyes looking brazenly at him. 

He never came so hard before, his entire body struck by lightning, setting fire to his very soul. He was left breathless and disoriented, his large chest rising up and down rapidly, your impudent gaze fixing him intently. 

The high was so high the descent was devastating, leaving him craving more of you, by any means necessary... 

That’s when he decided to enter your studio for the first time. 

Thrawn discovers the canvas. 

He discovers himself slouching regally on a throne like he is presiding over a tedious political case and is about to give his royal judgment. 

You remain a step behind, fidgeting your fingers. 

“What do you think?” You ask a bit worried. 

An idea flashes in his mind, a bad idea, but oh so delicious... 

“Technically very interesting and avant-garde. But there is something...” He teases sadistically. 

“Something? What? What is wrong? What did I do wrong?” You immediately panick. 

“Are you familiar with male anatomy?” He asks, falsely investigating. 

Of course, you are familiar with it, he saw you paint it plenty of times. 

“Yes! I am!” You protest. 

“Let’s see...” He gently takes your hands to place them on his large pecs. 

Your eyes round up in surprise and your breath is caught in your throat. 

“Feel the muscles, how they are built in the body.” He casually instructs while he takes your hands for a jaunt on his body, caressing himself with your soft palms. 

“Hum... Grand Admiral?” You try. 

“Feel where they start and end, where they cross paths and attach to the bones.” He slowly pushes your hands down his abdominals. 

You audibly gasp as he directs your hands on his naked body. While your body heat skyrockets in your embarrassment and confusion, he revels in the softness of your touch and the freshness of your hands on his thick skin. 

Your touch is delightful. Delicate and tender. He has all the pain in the world to not moan in bliss... 

He presses your palms on his abdominals, pushing them farther and farther south. 

“It is very important you understand how the muscles twist and bend.” He lectures you like you didn’t already know that. 

“Grand Admiral...” You press him more and more embarassed. 

He takes a step forward and you take a step back. 

He takes another one and you do the same. 

He finally blocks you against the desk where you keep all your colors and pigments. You jolt when your back hits the wooden table, caged between his half-naked body and the furniture. He stops your hands on his groin region, right above his cock.  

He looks at your flustered face intently, how you evade his gaze and your heat signals are the worst he ever saw. He refrains from licking your face as he so desperately wants to. 

Your sex is irradiating a warm light to his infrared vision, well awake and demanding attention. He takes great pride in the reaction of your body to his daring advances, but you also appear tense. 

“Feel how my male body is different from your female body, feel it deeply... within you...” He whispers, looming forward to press his forehead against yours to look at your eluding gaze. He pulls your hands to wrap your arms around his waist as his own hands come to seize your hips, slightly slipping them under your corseted top to caress your smooth human skin. 

You cannot help the gasp escaping you, shocked to your core but indubitably... interested. Curious and craving for more. 

Still, the uneasy feeling remains in the pearl of your eyes. 

He presses your hips together and rolls his pelvis, delighting himself in your hot and bothered reaction. Your hands are trembling and sweaty but they hold on his lower back. You slowly and timidly raise your gaze to meet his, mouth agape and with a short breath. 

You gulp as he smiles, satisfied.  

Are you a virgin? Will he be your first? 

His heart pumps harder! 

You first... But more importantly your last! 

He lowers himself with a satisfied grin, but right before he is about to kiss you, he suddenly grabs your ass to lift you up and put you on the table, making you yelp in surprise. His hands lift your skirt to caress your round thighs, dividing them open to slide between them swiftly. 

His blood is beating furiously, his hands caressing and exploring your gorgeous body eagerly, mentally pesting against those useless clothes hiding your naked perfection to his burning rubies. You let out a weak moan between precocious fear and irrefutable excitement. 

Your hands circle his shoulders and you dig your nails into his blue flesh, to his utmost pleasure, pulling you tighter towards you. 

Everything comes to a halt as you look into each other eyes with heavy breathing.  

He wants you. 

He craves you. 

And he will have you! 

In one way or another, you will be his and his alone.  

He will rip you out of your father’s claws and build you a life of comfort and love.  He will hold you close and tight, showering you with adoration every day, worshipping at your feet. 

Thrawn taunts you with his lips, hovering them over your parted mouth, making your throat go dry with anticipation. He teases you with a kiss on the tip of your nose, before letting out a low growl as your gazes meet, you cannot help but moisten your plump lips with your tongue with a short breath.  

Thrawn hand seizes your lower back to pull you close and tight against him, his second hand embracing the back of your skull to pull you ever so slightly closer to his tempting grin. 

You look at each other in a suspended moment, listening to each other heavy heartbeat, feeling the sheer tension in the room before Thrawn lowers himself with the intent to kiss you. 

“Please... Do not hurt me...” You ask with a voice so low and feeble he barely hears you, tears in your eyes. 

He stops his motion. 

Why would- 

“Sorry for my late arrival Princess, I-” 

A man enters the studio unannounced, absolutely ruining the moment. You yelp in surprise, pulling on your skirt to cover your bare legs while Thrawn merely turns his upper body towards the intruder to shoot him with his glare, making no effort to cover his modesty. 

The man is clearly embarrassed to have walked in during an intimate moment, but Thrawn wants him more than embarrassed. He wants him repentant and desperate.  

“I am sorry, Sir.” You jump off the table, flustered, pushing your hair behind your ear to put up a front, “Thrawn, I present you Sir Hatway, a curator of an art gallery I invited to judge my art.” You gesture towards the impudent. 

The man clearly doesn't know what to do with himself in front of a naked Chiss. 

“Sir Hatway, this is Vice Admiral Thrawn of the Imperial Navy and one of my favorite model.” 

Thrawn heart speeds up at the compliment, but outside he is still shooting down Hatway, frowning, displeased. 

“Should I... Wait outside, Princess?” The impolite man asks. 

‘Yes he should!’ Thrawn thinks, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“No! No...” You hurriedly respond, “It is all right, you didn’t interrupt anything. We can look at my paintings now.” 

Thrawn gaze slides to you. 

What do you mean ‘didn’t interrupt anything’? He wants to ask impudently.  

He chastises himself. You are an imperial Princess. You cannot just fool around with anyone like that without consequences from your father, you must preserve your reputation. 

The insolent nods unsure, still uneasy, before turning towards Thrawn with a smile he surely hoped to be affable, but honestly is just pathetic. He takes a step forward with his hand extended. 

“Please to meet you Grand Admiral Thrawn.” 

Thrawn consciously takes his time to gauge him up and down from all his height, straightening his back to look at him with all the smugness his rank conferred him. He finally took the man’s hand to shake it. 

“The pleasure is mine, Sir Hatway.” Thrawn tightens his grip until the man winces in pain, “You will obviously not say a word of what you saw.” He asks, deadly cold. 

“N-no, sir. I saw nothing and know nothing...” He pitifully responds 

“Good...” The Chiss nods, venomous. 

“You can go, Grand Admiral.” You say, fidgeting your fingers, still visibly agitated, “We are done for today.” 

“If you allow me, Your Majesty. I am interested to witness your audition.” 

“I...” You bite your lower lips again, thinking, “All right.” You concede. 

When Thrawn exits the changing room in his pristine white uniform, Sir Hatway is no longer the pitiful man who entered the studio. He stands proudly before your paintings, detailing them and judging them imperially. 

You remain a bit behind, full of apprehension and hope. Like the day you showed Thrawn your imager. 

“This is not very good to be honest with you, Your Majesty. This is amateurish at best, and I am being generous.” 

Thrawn stops dead in his tracks. Did he hear right? 

“But I...” You try. 

“It will not be possible I am afraid. You should abandon painting entirely, this is not a world for a fragile flower like you...” 

Thrawn takes a single glance at the painting you are presenting right now. 

Your dear mother’s portrait. 

You spend long hours on this one, pouring your tears and blood in the paint to bring it to life and honor that woman. 

And that... Uncultured fool rejects it?! Calls it amateurish?! Thrawn never saw such passion in a portrait in a long long time! 

He heard enough. 

He walks to the man with three long strides, catching both of your attention. 

“Sir. I will invite you to take back your words immediately.” He said very coldly, camping in front of the fool, towering over him with all his height. 

“Who do you think you are to teach my job?!” The impudent retorted, any traces of the former shy man long gone. 

“Who do you think YOU are?! Is your heart so dry to be so blind before such a shining jewel, before such explicit talent, before such an evident masterpiece? I can not let you say such things.” 

The man looks at Thrawn afraid and confused but sticks to his guns. 

“No! It is my job to evaluate artists that wish to enter our art gallery and she doesn’t have the level expected.” 

“Can you not see she is ahead of her time? That she is avant-garde in so many aspects? I pity your gallery Sir, we must only find mediocrity inside.” 

“Are you insulting me?!”  

“You insulted her first.”  

“Grand admiral please...” You try to calm them both 

Thrawn raises his hand to sush you. 

“She has no talents, and no future in the art world. I am doing her a favor by telling her early.” He bites. 

Thrawn feels about to punch this man. 

Instead, he takes a step back and takes out his pair of gloves from his pocket, and throws them at the impudent’s face. 

“I will protect her honor, I challenge you sir.” 

“What?! No! This is getting ridiculous, stop-” You try to interject again. 

“Fine! Whenever you damn please Alien!” The fool retorts. 

@bluechiss @thrawnalani @justanothersadperson93 @al-astakbar @thrawnspetgoose @readinglistfics @elise2174 @debonaire-princess @twilekchiss @pencil-urchin @ineedazeezee @mssbridgerton @dance-like-russia-isnt-watching @Cortisolcosplay, @obbicrystaleo, @germie2037 @davesrightshoe @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @leo4242564

[divinelolita]

i wanna laugh and i wanna laugh rn😪

its been so long(literally a few days) since i sent smthhh

ill boost u bae dw

AHEM

mk so the whole band(um seperate fic duh) with a bf who be freakishly nice n shit(i feel like ivd sent this bf dont expose me if i did) like if a band member accidentally hit him in the face he would say sorry and say some dumb shit like "im so sorry i shouldn't have been in the way of your elbow. " like what💀💀

or if someone was trying to confess or smth he'd be like "i really don't want to hurt you but no." maybe even as a band memeber is right next to them

and arguments with this mf is probably hell like if it was a band members fault he would accidentally make them think it wasn't and it was his(sometimes its on purpose but they figure it out later) OFC these r examples use what u want🧍🏾

BAHSBDKDBDO I CANFT STOP LAUGHING ON THE FIRST ONE

THE BAND X EXTREMELY NICE READER

teehee i have an essay to write but ummmmm that doesn't matter rn 😇 uhh also if it's bad sorry idk what's going on with me

BILL:

・He's so confused how you can be nice all the time

・He really does try to be nice but he just snaps sometimes omg 💀

・He wonders when your breaking point is

・Like if he turns around carrying something and wacks your fucking face he's so confused why you're not YELLING at him

"Yeah and then- *WHACK* -OH SHIT M/N I'M SO SORRY ARE YOU OKAY?! -"

"No, no Bill I'm fine! It didn't hurt that much."

"..what."

・He just stares at you with his jaw dropped low, slowly nodding to himself

・Or like if he knocks something over and you apologize for it

(I've done that so many times...)

・Reassures you it's not your problem 🤞

TOM:

・nahh you got him FUCKED UP bae.

・He doesn't understand how you can be so nice, I feel like he's a brutally honest mf 💀

・If your in public and somebody is being rude to you and you're just kinda standing there, still staying calm???

・He's just looking at your features trying to find ONE small piece of anger or frustration

・I feel like y'all are couple opposites.

・Like he'd obviously have a soft spot for you 🤗 but he doesn't see the reason to be nice to others when he knows it's not his fault

・Arguments with him oh my god...

・If you keep apologizing and saying it's your fault he eventually sits next to you to comfort you, assuring you everything's okay.

"It's not your fault, M/N. I promise.."

・You'd somehow warm him up a bit, he barley notices himself becoming more kind and carefree.

GEORG:

・was his color green or blue omg i can't remember

・He's...so confused.

・Like if he accidentally smacks you with his elbow and you aren't crying or cursing

"M/N? M/N ARE YOU-"

"I'm okay! It just stung for a second haha..!"

"..."

"..."

・He gets you but he doesn't.

・He just can't see himself being so giddy and happy and nice.

・Anger turns into confusion in arguments, why are you so mad at yourself?

・Loves you so fucking much though, always reminding you that you are amazing and didn't do anything wrong.

GUSTAV

・AHHHH HE GETS YOU!!!!!

・He understands you so much oh my god, he just loves you even more now.

・He'd also try to keep you from blaming yourself.

・Like if he knocks something over and you apologize.

"Oh shit I'm sorry I should have moved it-"

"No honey you're fine, I should've looked where I was going.."

・MWA MWA HE LOVES YOU

・Very slightly confused on how you never snap, how you always keep calm

・He wishes he could be like you bae 💔💔

・In arguments he just tries to calm himself and you down, actually sitting down and talking about how you both feel

OH SHITTT I NEED TO DO THAT ESSAY

[zerolune]

Let Them Know - Song Eunseok (Pt.1 here)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. NSFW AHEAD.

It's been a while since you and Eunseok began your...arrangement, however the doubt still remains can he be yours? And a Friday night changes that.

Warnings - Eunseok calls reader a slut, mentions of him leaving marks on her, sort of unsafe sex (do not be like them please) and let me know if I missed anything.

University au. Not proofread....

Trust me. You were trying your best- you really were. You were trying your best to keep your attention on the laptop screen- you were trying your best to meet the essay's word limit- you really were. Trying to keep your thighs shut tight as the slick kept dripping, your poor undies already soaked. Damn you Eunseok...And damn your goddamm heavy voice travelling to the depths of your arousal.

"Seriously? You're seriously going to be completing that essay? You're going to spend your entire Friday night completing that shitty assignment?" Eunseok whined, sitting on your bed in his wide jeans and a grey tank top- his leather jacket thrown on your red bean bag.

"For god's sake...we have two whole weeks to complete that essay- why do you wanna be such a suck up?" He got up from the bed, walking closer to your desk where you sat.

"You should really come to this party...who knows you might actually make a friend..." he rolls his eyes- that soon travelled to your clenching bare thighs exposed due to the courtesy of your tiny shorts.

"No thank you, I'd rather not have friends that choose to risk their degree for one night of fun." You reply, cringing at your own reply. Pick-me much? But you had to complete this essay- there was so much piled up, and this was the easiest task at the moment.

"You don't want friends like that but you don't mind taking a dick like that?" He chuckles, referring to himself as he bent down- reading the words you managed to type out.

"No way...you're actually sucking up to the Prof....really? Writing his opinion- when you don't even agree with it?" He scoffs in disbelief at your petty words.

"It's just this side has more information." You reply once again- your lie as obvious as your soaking undies. Eunseok's fingers traced figure eights on your thigh as his breath tickled the side of your ear.

"Bet you just want the professor's attention since he's a tad bit more than mid and you're a slut."

That's it. That was the last straw. You turned around- your eyes screaming furious as your eyebrows furrowed and your lips parted to begin retorting-

"Okay okay don't be mad- I crossed a line and I'm sorry," Eunseok apologised, his hand now caressing your thigh.

You relaxed your brows, standing up after closing your laptop shut. "Fine then," a sigh leaves your throat as a smirk replaces the grin on his lips. "Okay then," before you knew it his lip pressed against yours. He bites your lower lip- letting his tongue into your mouth as you begin to taste the strawberries he was munching on a while back.

You pull away as your breath came out in short pants and gasps. "You won't get an asthma attack will you?" He looks at you with worry laced irises, as his own cells themselves were in oxygen debt.

You roll your eyes, remembering when you told him about your extra-mucus producing airways. "Look at you...always getting mad," he too rolls his eyes before dipping down to suck and kiss your neck, leaving his marks all over your skin.

"Do you have to make it so obvious that we're fucking?" You say- pulling his face away from your side. "Do you have to make it so obvious that you don't want people to find out?" You could've swore that for a second his face fell as his lips frowned.

"I thought you didn't want people finding out..." you look down, not sure of what else to say. "Hey...y/n look at me," his fingers pulled your chin towards his gaze. "You think I ditched my friends and their party so I could come over to your apartment so people wouldn't find out?"

He picks up your figure as he sits down on your bed, letting your legs straddle his lap.

"You're the top student, you're the only second year student in our department to live on their own in the apartment they're paying rent for. How are you still so dumb?" His hands snaked up your tshirt, pulling the fabric up over until it reached the top of your chest.

Your gaze couldn't meet his...feeling ashamed of your obliviousness, your palms pressed against his shirt.

"I'm sorry..." you muttered. "What are you even sorry for? Y/n...I have you as my lockscreen, do you still think I don't want you? You still think I don't want people to know?"

"Then...let...let them know." In a gush of boldness you smashed your lips onto his as he played with your boobs- his finger fondling the flesh as they occasionally pinched your nipples making you gasp.

"You should be more confident Y/n, I liked that." He said as he picked up your hips to get rid of your shorts and lower his own jeans.

"You've seriously been this soaked? God...y/n...why are you so afraid of letting yourself have fun?" He spoke as his hands worked to align his cock with your entrance. "I don't know," you answered- wondering why you were actually so afraid of letting yourself have fun.

"Then I'll let you know-" you cut him off his you let out a sharp yelp- never getting used to his size. "I know baby...I know..." he soothes as he distracts you by playing with your perked nipple. You let out a whimper when he pinched to hard. "You sounded like those porn stars making those fake moans-" he couldn't help but chuckle at the high pitched yelp you had made as he caressed your thighs with his other hand.

"I think I can move now..." you say before moving your hips up and down. "Oh...that...that feels good..." he groans, his voice coming out weak. He leans forward to take one of your breasts and put them in his mouth- his lips kissing your bud as his tongue swirled over.

Your apartment was filled with the sounds of his praises and groans and your mindless mumbles. He watched your tits bounce as he guided your hips to move up and down faster- reaching his high.

"Oh god- fuck...I'm gonna have to pull out..." his voice is broken as he shudder- lifting you up as he puts you down...his fingers rubbing against your cunt to make sure you reach your high too as he comes all over your boobs.

"You look so good like this...God if anyone knew just how pathetic that nerdy and uptight y/n can get." He mumbles, reaching for his phone. Before you could calm down from the feeling of ecstasy you heard the sound of a camera shutter.

"You're so beautiful." He coos and strokes your hair. "So.." you take a deep breath. "Can we let them know?"

"Let them know what?" He quirks a brow.

"Let them know that you're mine?" You say before sitting up to kiss his neck.

.....

Tags : @annielovescry @melobin

So...here is the part 2-

[theemporium]

Hi! So I saw that requests are open and I'm absolutely in live with your writing, and I was wondering if I could convince you to write something for Sirius where instead of a motorbike he got a mustang or something and fixed it up for muggle studies and fem!reader is friends with the marauders and they sneak away from a party together on the summer holidays or something to take a drive and end up confessing and maybe having a couple kisses before going back and kinda sticking to each other for the rest of the night??? Completely inspired by Katy Perry's the one that got away haha.. Thank you <3

(And if it isn't what you wanna write then thank you still for all your already amazing works that have me giggling like an idiot<333)

stop🥹you are far too sweet!!! thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“Are you sure this is safe?” 

“One hundred percent, love.” 

“Really?” 

“Would I ever put you in danger?” 

You sighed, eyes darting around the interior with wary but curious eyes. 

Sirius hadn’t shut up about his latest muggle purchase for the better part of the last week. 

He had practically bounced into the common room last Saturday night, a grin split across his face and a glint in his eyes that could only mean trouble when it came to Sirius Black. It was a sight that made your heart twist, in both anticipation and nostalgia. 

Exams had come to a close and you were enjoying your last few weeks at Hogwarts before you graduated and left. You wanted to make memories. You wanted to cherish your time left with your group before adult life took over. 

You were going to miss the crazy adventures Sirius Black would drag you out on.

This one came in the form of a car. 

You were vaguely aware of the contraption, having studied it in Muggle Studies a few years prior. Despite the questions you asked Lily, you never really grasped onto the mechanics behind it, nor did you care all that much. But Sirius seemed to. 

For his final project, he had seemed to wager some deal with his professor. He would fix up the broken Mustang showing his skills and knowledge of muggle inventions, rather than writing a tedious essay on the contraption and his professor seemed to agree. 

But now, with exams over and school coming to an end, Sirius was left with a perfectly working Mustang and a desire to show off his creation, his baby he had nursed from the brink of death (aka the junkyard Lily told him the car would end up in).

“It’s like…a contained broom,” Sirius said in a lame attempt to explain the car, to reassure you that you would be fine. “Perfectly safe. Promise.”

“Because I’m so good on a broom too,” you commented with a snort, your chest tightening when you noticed the grin on his face.

The group had snuck off the grounds to take the car out for a spin, heading to a local outdoor cinema that Sirius seemed to be aware of. The others had headed off to the confectionery stands to grab some snacks and drinks before the movie began, whilst you stayed seated in the backseat of the Mustang with Sirius, listening to the muggle music sounding through the radio. 

“Hey, everyone gets stuck in a tree every once in a while, don’t worry about it,” Sirius said as he nudged your shoulder. You rolled your eyes, but even you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“At least I had someone stupid enough to fly straight into the tree as well to save me,” you teased, giving him a knowing look. 

“Always gonna be your hero, love,” he said, his voice a little softer as he spoke to you. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, his eyes darting down a little before he turned to look out the windshield with a sigh. “So, what do you think about the car—” 

It was an impulsive decision. You weren’t exactly sure what fuelled it. Or maybe you did know, you just didn’t have the heart to admit it to yourself that over the last few years, Sirius Black made butterflies erupt in your stomach with even the simplest of actions because you liked him. You liked him far more than you should like a friend.

So, you kissed him. 

Sirius froze the second your lips touched his. His brain stopped working and there wasn’t a single coherent thought rattling in his head. He barely had a chance to process what had just happened before you were pulling away, eyes wide and cheeks flushed as realisation of what you had just done washed over you. 

“Sirius–”

But before the apology could even leave your lips, he was grabbing your face and kissing you again, deeper and more passionate this time. 

Your lips parted for him without any argument, his tongue teasing yours as he tugged you closer to him. In seconds you were off your seat and straddling his lap, your nails raking down his chest as you moaned against his lips. It was fast-paced and hot and you don’t think your brain even realised what you were doing and who you were doing it with. 

It was a sharp knock against the window that shattered the moment, both of your heads snapping to the side to see a very smug-looking James grinning at you both, arm full of snacks he had purchased. 

“Breaking in the new car?” he teased and Sirius playfully flipped him off before turning back to you, grinning himself a little when he saw the blush spreading across your cheeks. 

“Nah, we’re gonna do that later, aren’t we, love?” Sirius murmured, the suggestion rolling off his tongue like pure sin. 

“Huh?” you murmured, still a little dazed.

His eyes darkened as he bit his lip, trying to hold back his groan. “Gonna show you how much you can do in this car, baby. Just gotta let the others leave first.” 

Whatever it was, you were sure things between you and Sirius were going much further than friends this summer. 

.

[brooooswriting]

Would/could you maybe write a sam carpenter x fem!reader comfort fic/imagine with her comforting reader after a breakdown which leads to r crying but in Sam's arms? Just something I'm craving rn, thanks 💜

I need you

Sam Carpenter x reader

Some days life seems like a piece of cake, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. But that doesn’t happen to broke college students who still have to hustle to get their degree. You had too many things to do and nearly not enough time, money was short and your parents were on you like hawks. They cut the money because they thought that you’d need to learn how to live yourself and while that wasn’t really a problem to you, they thought it was.

You were staying with Tara for the time being as your parents kicked you out of your apartment for a certain timespan and you didn’t have the time nor the money to get a new one. T was nice enough to let you stay and Sam and Quinn were fine with it too.

You and sam liked to keep your relationship on the low, it wasn’t quite a relationship but it also wasn’t just a fuck. It was something and you didn’t wanna label it because you were scared that it’d ruin it. So, you never talked to anyone about it, not even Anika even though she was your best friend.

It was late at night, around 2 a.m. when you sat in the kitchen, trying to write an essay for your English class when sam came home. You’d been working from 3 p.m to 1 a.m as your coworker got I’ll and as soon as you got home you sat down and started to work. You were dehydrated and haven’t really eaten since 2 p.m. You were moody, sad and you weren’t getting anywhere with this stupid essay. After just starring at the screen for around 20 minutes your eyes started to fill with tears and your breathing got heavy. There was no focusing anymore, you were blowing your nose again and again while you tried to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of your long sleeve shirt.

Sam walked in on you sitting at the kitchen table. Your back was turned to her, so she couldn’t see your face. “Hey, you’re still awake” she whispered as she walked up behind you, her arms wrapping around your shoulders and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. You mumbled a yeah as you tried to keep your voice as steady as possible. But it was no use, Sam was great at observing and your shaky voice was easy to notice. “What’s wrong honey?” Her voice was unbelievably soft which made you break.

You started to cry out loudly, hiccups following and your shoulders shaking. The older woman’s heart broke for you, she noticed that you had been down lately but she didn’t know that it was that bad. Her hand reached down to grab yours and pull you over to the couch where you carefully sat on her lap, one leg on each side of her hip. Your face was squished into her neck, your sobs silenced while her arms squeezed your waist and pulled you closer. Sweet kisses were placed on your neck and head along with reassuring words, in hopes that they’d calm you down.

“I’m sorry” you hiccuped out, slightly laughing about how much of a mess you were. You hoped that it’d make the situation less awkward and uncomfortable but it didn’t really. “Don’t apologize baby, wanna tell me what’s wrong?” She asked as her hand rubbed up and down your back. The moment was too sweet to be just between friends.

“I’m just, I-I, it’s too much. I’m failing basically every goddamn thing, I’m not making enough money and my parents are watching me like hawks just waiting for me to fail and if it keeps going like this then they won’t have to wait even longer” you cried out, your head falling back into the crook of sams neck. Your tears were staining her neck but she couldn’t care less.

“Don’t say stuff like that! You’re doing great baby” she said and started to stand up. Your legs wrapped tighter around her waist while her hands supported you. “You’re working all alone, you’re doing your best in college. I am so proud of you” she kept mumbling as she sat you down on her bed. She let go of you for a second to get you one of her hoodies and her boxers, it wasn’t the first time you were in her bed but it was the first time it felt this intimate.

“Thank you but we both know that my parents don’t think the same. They are going to hate me if I fail” you kept crying, burying yourself in her hoodie and turning your back to her with your legs pulled up to your chest.

Sam didn’t say anything, you heard how she changed her cloths and then heard her move to the other side of the bed. She’s never really been someone for cuddling, it just wasn’t hers or at least it wasn’t with you. But this night she laid down behind you, tightly pressed into your back with her arms wrapped around your waist. Her face was pressed into the crook of your neck where she placed soft kisses up and down. It was unbelievably comforting.

“Sleep a bit for me Love, well take about everything else tomorrow alright?” She mumbled into your neck and pulled you closer, watching how your eyes close before her own closed too.

The next morning you woke up still in sams arms. She was already awake when your eyes opened, her hand stroked up and down your side. “Good morning, are you alright?” She asked, her voice immediately comforting you. You gave her a small nod and turned in her arms, cuddling into her chest. You weren’t sure what was happening at the moment but decided to take advantage of any comfort you could get.

“You know, I meant what I said yesterday” she started, her fingers combing thru your hair, “I am proud of you and I think you’re doing awesome. Just let your parents talk, but if they’re rude to you, come to me alright? I’ll protect you. After all you’re kinda my girlfriend right?” She sounded unsure and insecure at the end which made you coo.

“I’d love nothing more that being your girlfriend” you answered, leaning your head up to press a quick kiss to her lips. By all means it wasn’t your first kiss, but the way you kissed was new. It was filled with love and care, it made you feel like everything was going to be alright again. And as long as Sam was by your side, everything was going to be fine.

[mothmanmunson]

Aftershocks

A hurt/comfort Steddie blurb while I take a break from my main fic.

“Something's up with Steve, Eddie.”

Robin was pacing back and forth in front of Eddie, who was sitting on his couch in the trailer the government had so graciously gifted him and Wayne after the spring break incident, and after they finally cleared Eddie's name.

“And?”

“He won't tell me! He tells me everything.”

“And you're coming to me because?”

Robin huffed and gestured to Eddie, as if to try and emphasize the fact he was sitting there at all as the reason, and she had a point. If it hadn't been for Steve he'd probably have just bled out in the Upside Down.

Dustin had explained what happened when Eddie woke up in the hospital. How Steve carried him out of the gate that was in his old trailer, even though he had several broken ribs, and then insisted on being near him.

“Cause according to him, you two bonded in the Upside Down… I know he won't talk to anyone else, so you're the guy.”

Eddie sighed softly.

“Robin, Steve and I haven't talked since I got out of the hospital.”

“Exactly! Don't you think that's weird? He literally fought with the doctors when they tried treating him because he didn't wanna leave you or Max alone, and then once you're both out he just goes radio silent on you?”

Eddie shrugged. He had just chalked it up to him going back to prepping for college or whatever now that Hawkins was safe again. Robin huffed once again, which brought Eddie out of his thoughts.

“Will you just… will you talk to him? For me? He looks terrible and I'm worried about him.”

“Yeah, I will. Just don't get your hopes up, okay?”

—

Steve sat on his couch after getting home from chauffeuring the kids to their different activities for the day, Will had art club, Max, El, and Erica had gone to the new mall they had built where Starcourt used to be, and Dustin, Lucas and Mike were hanging out at the arcade.

He had been running around non-stop since everything settled after spring break, and that was just with them. He only got short breaks between all the drop offs and pickups, and those were usually filled with college prep, house work, or doing favors for the older kids, much to Robin's dismay.

“Steve if you keep this up you're gonna make yourself sick or something,”

She had said one day while her, Nancy, and Jonathan were over. They had offered to take over some of the driving duties so Steve could have a break, but he refused.

“I'm fine, guys, really. I appreciate it but you've all got your own stuff going on.”

“Well, so do you.” Nancy chimed in.

“Steve, the last drafts of your college application essays had so many typos in them it looked like you were writing them in your sleep.” Steve scoffed softly and shook his head.

“Well, then it's a good thing I had you look over them, isn't it?” After more bickering back and forth, the three had left empty-handed, and Steve continued on his self-destructive helping spree.

Which is why he was surprised when Eddie showed up on his porch on a Friday afternoon unannounced and out of nowhere, a grocery bag of snacks and drinks in hand.

“Hey, uh, can I come in? I wanna talk to you.” Steve let him in and noticed Eddie had slipped off his shoes at the door.

“What's up, Eddie?”

“I could ask the same of you. You look like… well you don't look great.” Steve scoffed softly at the comment before considering the fact Eddie had clearly said something less harsh than he was originally going to.

“I've just been busy.”

“Busy enough to skip meals?”

“Eddie. Not you, too.” Eddie stuffed his hands in his Jacket pockets after setting the bag on the coffee table.

“What do you mean, ‘not me, too’?”

“You're here to ask to take over driving the kids around, aren't you?” Eddie let out a short laugh.

“What? You think I'd let the Hellions into my van? Mike and Dustin are lucky I don't make them walk home from sessions.”

“So… Robin didn't tell you to come see me?” Steve had just guessed, but the way Eddie shrugged confirmed his suspicion. Of course Robin would go to Eddie-she knew if anyone was gonna get through to Steve it'd be him, especially after he insisted on being by Eddie's side in the hospital. She saw something spark up in Steve that she knew was the starts of a crush.

“Oh, no, she totally did. But I'm not gonna try a tactic that already didn't work. I just came to hang out, to encourage you to take a break.”

“Well, I have to work on my essays for my applications, so maybe some other time, yeah?” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve mentally curse both him and Robin.

“No can do, big boy, it's my turn to dolt around for you. Sit.”

“Eddie I really don't th-”

“Steve. I'm doing this for Robin's sake and for yours. Pick a movie, sit your ass down, and relax.” Eddie went over and nudged Steve in the direction of the movie shelf.

“Otherwise I'm gonna go grab 'The American Werewolf in London' outta the van and we're watching that.”

“Why is it in your van?”

“Cause it's a rental and if I leave it in there I'll remember to return it.” Steve raised his eyebrows and nodded, picking out The Dark Crystal and popping it into the player before sitting down.

—

The two watched the movie for a while, and Eddie kept an eye on Steve, who had visibly relaxed.

“Hey, so, I've gotta ask, why have you been running yourself into the ground, Harrington?” Steve looked over at him before looking back at the movie. It looked like he was trying to figure out how to say what was on his mind.

“I just…I don't wanna be stagnant, I guess.”

“Steve, c’mon, tell me the truth. I'm not gonna force it out of you but I can't help if you don't tell me, man.” Steve let out a soft sigh and sat up, placing his drink on the table as he did. Eddie watched as the tension made itself at home in Steve again as he moved, and part of him wished he hadn't opened his big mouth.

“The night Starcourt burned down.”

“Yeah?”

“Hopper wasn't the only one who went through shit that night.” Eddie let Steve take his time, watching him with wide eyes. The brunette looked like he wanted to crawl under the table and hide, and Eddie didn't blame him.

“Well, to make a long story short, Starcourt was a front for a Russian military base and they captured Robin and I. It was awful, we were only there for hours, but it felt like days…” Steve took a shaky breath and ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“I felt so useless. I couldn't help Robin even though she was right there, and it felt like the ground was ripped out from under me. I told myself if I survived I never wanted to feel like that again.” Eddie frowned and furrowed his brow, twisting the rings on his hand as he did.

“Steve. You're not useless, you were just as trapped as she was.” He reached out and grabbed Steve's shoulder supportively.

“I know but-”

“No buts. From now on, if you start to feel that way, tell someone. Hell, tell me. Just, don't dig yourself into a hole you can't get out of, okay? You've got so many people that care about you, but we can't help you if you don't ask for it.” Steve looked at Eddie for a moment before looking down at his hands.

“Yeah… okay… Thanks, Eddie. Really.” Eddie smiled and nodded, giving Steve's shoulder a squeeze, and went back to watching the movie.

It wasn't long before Eddie felt Steve's head on his shoulder and he smiled as he adjusted himself so both he and Steve would be more comfortable.

“One more question.”

“Yeah, Eddie?”

“Why didn't you tell Robin? She'd be able to comfort you a bit better than any of us.” Steve shrugged a bit, which made Eddie sigh.

“Steve. She's your best friend, and who else would know how you felt better than her?”

“It's not just Starcourt, Eddie.” Eddie raised his eyebrows expectantly and it was Steve's turn to sigh as he pulled his knees up to his chest. It was a defense mechanism he had picked up after all the body blows he'd taken throughout the past year, and it seemed to have latched onto his mental health as well.

“I thought you were gonna die… You did, a couple of times, on the way to the hospital… Then I saw Lucas and Max and I started feeling helpless again. Dustin told me what you did and all I remember is hearing this voice in my head telling me it was my fault you were even in that position in the first place. You and Max are just as much a part of this weird, fucked up family as the rest of us and-” Steve stopped when Eddie put a hand on his knee, looking up at him with those big doe eyes.

“Steve, you weren't the one that made me do anything. None of this was your fault, and I'd have done it despite what you had to say. Like you said, we're a weird, fucked up family, and I'd literally kill for Dustin, so of course I'd do what I could to help.” Eddie watched Steve wipe at his face with his sleeve and reached over to gently grab his arm, pulling him into a hug. Steve had stiffened up a bit in surprise, but Eddie soon felt his body shake as he sobbed, and rubbed his back comfortingly.

After a while, and a lot of crying, Steve finally pulled back and looked at Eddie. His face was red, and his eyes were puffy from crying, but his eyes were full of something Eddie never really saw much when he'd try comforting someone.

Gratitude.

Usually it would wind up in the person getting upset with him, which he didn't mind because it took their focus off of what was upsetting them in the first place, but he never got so much as a thank you for it.

“Thank you… Sorry for soaking your shirt.”

Eddie laughed softly and shook his head, taking Steve's hands in his.

“It's alright, Steve. You feel better?”

Steve nodded and let out a soft laugh, wiping at his face with his sleeve before rubbing his face fully.

“God… that was such an ugly cry. I can't believe you let me go for so long.”

Eddie laughed as well and wrapped an arm around him playfully, giving him a squeeze.

“You should see me cry, like, really cry. Snot gets everywhere.”

Steve stuck his tongue out at the thought, making a disgusted sound.

“Gross.”

“Right? At least you managed to stay pretty somehow.”

Steve tilted his head and smirked softly, heart jumping into his throat for a moment before he managed to speak.

“You think I'm pretty?” Eddie's face went red and he cleared his throat, which confirmed it for Steve before he even started talking.

“Well…yeah. Even when your hair's a mess you still look like some deity, couple that with how caring you really are and any girl would have to be blind and dumb not to want you.” Steve's heart dropped like a rock just as quickly as it had leaped, and he was hoping it wasn’t readable in his body language.

“Actually…I don't think I'm all that into girls anymore.” Steve noticed Eddie's head tilt to the side just the slightest bit before he glanced around, avoiding eye contact. Was Eddie nervous? Steve couldn't tell, equating Eddie's neutral expression to that of a scared puppy.

“When did… when did that happen?”

“Well… I guess I've always felt like that, but just avoided it, y’know? I know how hard it is to be anything but straight in Indiana but…when we were alone in the Upside Down, it kind of confirmed it for me, I guess.” Eddie finally made eye contact, and his eyes were full of confusion and a bit of fear.

“I…I was your gay awakening?” Steve let out a soft laugh and shrugged. He hadn't really thought about that. Sure, he knew he had a crush on the metalhead, but he didn't think of it as a sexual awakening or anything.

“I mean, I guess? I never really thought of it like that until now but… I dunno, it's dumb.” Eddie leaned over and grabbed Steve's face in his hands, the confusion and fear in his eyes replaced with an intense passion.

“Don't ever call anything you think dumb, Steve Harrington.” They were so close to each other their noses were almost touching, and Steve took in the scent of cigarettes and sweat. All he had to do was lean forward just the slightest bit…

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“I… uh…” I love you, I wanna hold you and kiss you and never let you go. He wanted desperately to tell Eddie how he felt, how badly he wanted to kiss him, but he found himself, instead, swallowing his words.

“You…?” Eddie dragged, the passion replaced with a softness that made Steve melt. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, leaning in to softly kiss Eddie's lips before pulling away.

When he finally mustered up the courage to open his eyes, Steve was greeted by a red-faced Eddie, who sat there dumb-founded and blushing.

“Eddie? I-Im sorry, I shouldn't have done-” Eddie shook his head, which made Steve stop.

“No, no, it's okay. It was…a wonderful surprise.” Steve felt his heart skip a beat once again and bit his lip. He couldn't tell if Eddie meant that as a good thing or not, his voice was so soft and monotone in that moment it felt like he was replaced with a robot while Steve had his eyes closed.

“Is that a good thing or…?” Eddie smiled softly and leaned in to close the distance Steve had created.

“It's a good thing. I promise.”

[cr0cutacr0cuta]

Loving Darius Deamonne: A LONG tumblr essay about my favorite character from The Owl House, and why I think his potential was missed but hinted at.

Hey heres an edit: forgot that Gus existed, my bad. :sob: I love him too just not as much.

Darius Deamonne is a great character and you should love him too and here's why.

It goes beyond me just loving him for being black and pretty obviously gay (at least some sort of mlm) in my eyes. Which is good! He's black and somewhat feminine and it's never played for laughs. He's still treated like a threat and like a very powerful and influential person. Which I wholeheartedly appreciate it.

Which is the first thing I wanna touch on I guess?

I also want to say that some of this is based off of interviews that Dana Terrace has done for the show, as well as piecing theories together based on the information we DO know about Darius.

And no I won't proofread this because I have anxiety about re-reading anything I write, so sorry for the typos in advanced. :,)

I was going to do this in parts but everything is bleeding together so much that I can't. I'll sum up all the most important things in bullet points at the end!

This will probably be my shortest section here. Darius is very reminiscent of effeminate Disney Villains such as Scar or Gaston. He's very into fashion and self pampering. He even has a menacing sounding French/Greek roots last name that DOES invoke demons. Even if that's not the true meaning behind the name, but we'll get back to that later in this section.

Darius is first hinted at in Season 1 Episode 13, "The First Day". His simplified visage appearing on the Abomination Coven banner.

Man, look at how sinister and mysterious they made him look. He also appears to MAYBE be wearing a different outfit than he does in the rest of the series proper. There's not a lot to say or analyze here, I just think his banner is super neat.

The second time we see Darius is in the flashback segment of "Young Blood, Old Souls". We see his younger design first before we even get a glimpse of his present one. I just really like that detail and the implication that Darius was a character that was very heavily on the writer's mind from the jump.

Now his real, first proper appearance is very wild. Very important. I don't know too much about cinematography and framing, but I do know a little bit of the basics.

Let's look at his first true appearance in Season 2 Episode 6, "Hunting Pailsmen".

We do see his shadow in the shot before this, but I just want to point out that Darius is straight up the first coven head we see in the introduction to all of them. (We do see Mason in an earlier episode but it was in a more comedic role and he doesn't speak.)

This framing putting Darius front and center doesn't stop here.

In the first proper serious group shot of the coven heads, Darius is in the middle. Firstly, the perspective frames Darius as the biggest person in the shot. Maybe besides Hettie, but she's also pretty tall and scaled down because of the perspective. He's also the one in the center of the shot, in the center of some of the most powerful people and most influental people in the isles.

This does imply importance.

It even goes further in the next shot.

Darius is at the side here, sure. But he's put next to Mason who probably has the plainest design out of all the coven heads. (I'm sure he's fine.) But it almost feels like he was put next to Darius to make Darius' framing look more important. With the rest of the more uniquely designed coven heads smaller, at the back, and rendered in less color because of the light from the cauldron (?) in the shot.

Even in the storyboard, Darius seems ot have a bit more detail than everyone else. And if not that, his expression is more clear and intense than the other's.

This makes me wonder how important Darius was to the narrative before the show got canceled. Like yes, Raine ended up being the most important person here in the end. Rightfully so. I still just wondered what was there intention with the compositions of these scenes. Was Darius meant to be more important, or was this a misdirect?

He's in such a unique spot in the story, that I doubt it was unintentional. Darius was supposed to be explored much more according to Dana.

Snippet of the interview from TV Tropes.

So we know Darius was supposed to be explored more as a character in a hypothetical, fully realized season 3. I really would have done anything to see that, honestly.

That's all I have to really say for this section. I'm just bummed that all this foreshadowing and planning was destroyed because of Disney's mismanagement of the show. It also sucks that the main black character we see in the show is one of the biggest causalities from it. Moving on.

So back to Darius being like renaissance era Disney villains...He's vain, he's powerful, and quite possibly...He's manipulative. Mainly, it seems, towards the other coven heads.

Remember what Hunter says in "Any Sport in a Storm" about the coven heads...

This is very much speculation on my part. But I think Darius has been in the rebellion game for a while. I can't say he's a direct leader and I can't say he has an entire group behind him until Raine comes along. But I wouldn't put it above him to use mind games to help slow Belos' progress. I think Darius may have been purposely sowing discourse between the other coven heads.

Mind you, a lot of them are already conniving on their own. But I don't put it past him to stoke the flames to cause chaos for Belos' plans.

This does beg the question, how long has Darius been at this? How long has he been TRYING to dismantle the Emperor's hold on the Isles?

Again, speculation warning, but I do think Darius may have been at least skeptical of Belos and looking into what he was doing since his mentor died.

Imagine, your mentor is the leader of the Emperor's Coven. The Emperor's personal right hand man. Then he just...dies one day. And since Belos says that all the previous guards had in fact, betrayed him, what's to say that the previous Golden Guard didn't tell Darius he was going to betray Belos?

Like yes, he could have not told Darius in an attempt to protect him. Darius obviously meant a lot to him and he obviously meant a lot to Darius. Though I also think that he would want to save Darius and everyone else. And if he couldn't, he would want Darius to save himself and everyone else. I can't prove that Darius was told anything, but I wouldn't be surprised.

So Darius may have just...Straight up been in the trenches for years at this point. He does say that he rebelled because he found "The Day of Unity suspicious"...But Darius has exaggerated on screen before. He's also been straight up lying to a lot of peers for possibly years. He can be an unreliable narrator here.

This also means he is a stereotypical renaissance villain turned on it's head. He looks very evil, but my mans is just semi goth, loves fashion, and is an anarchist. He's not a villain, just an anti-hero.

With that said, let's talk about his relationship with Hunter, which seems to be pretty complicated.

Darius starts out seemingly looking at Hunter with distain. I think about what Dana says about Darius' main motivations not only being to help people, but to care about the ones that he loves. The implications that Darius' main driving force is love, not only for people personally in his life, but for his community, the people of the isles, seems pretty significant.

I think love maybe Darius' main, true character trait.

Love, especially when it ties into grief, can really make people lash out. Not everyone reacts this way, but we've already established that Darius can be pretty full of wrath when he wants to be.

To me it's very clear that Darius is projecting the anger he feels from his grief onto Hunter. Which yes, is messed up. There's no excuse for it. He eventually seems to grow and change at least, and that's good.

I can definitely see WHY he would feel the way he does towards Hunter at first though. Your mentor is murdered one day and you get little explanation, he also may have hinted at something deeper and darker happening within the leadership of your community before he does. Then he's replaced by some kid that, probably to you, came out of nowhere. He's the emperor's nephew. Didn't his family die a long time ago? Did his mentor have a child that he didn't even mention?

Which does beg the question...Does Darius know that Hunter is a grimwalker? I don't know? I don't think so. I think he's very suspicious of the whole situation at the very least. You're also frustrated with the kid about being a follower, about not looking at the bigger picture, about just being a soldier and not his own person. Because you're sure that being a follower, being subservient, is what lost your mentor his life.

Darius definitely could have handled this better. He could have not projected his grief onto Hunter. He could have been more open about what he wanted him to do. He could have told him to go be a kid and make friends. But he let his grief get in the way of it all. He's flawed, and that's relatable.

Seeing Hunter make friends and show some sort of autonomy seemingly broke him from seeing Hunter as just a replacement. He started seeing Hunter as his own person as Hunter did. I think that's a very important step in their growth together. I find that super interesting and very poetic.

There's also the fact that Darius probably couldn't tell Hunter about the scope of everything because he wanted to protect him from it all. I don't think Darius ever wanted Hunter to get hurt. Even if he was cruel to him initially. He was so upset in "Hollow Mind" that he shoves Raine out of the way when hears about Hunter being stuck in Belos' mind.

He also may have been scared of what Hunter would see if he had known that the Emperor had something to do with his mentor's death.

Also I guess I should mention it here because of it all tying into Darius being part of the rebellion but...There's a scene in "Eda's Requiem" where Darius is more angry about his clothes getting messed up than the fact that Raine has committed treason...Which is great foreshadowing, actually. I love the fact that Eberwolf has to remind him of the treason part so their cover doesn't get blown, probably.

Let's keep the ball rolling on the most important relationships in Darius' life.

We've covered Hunter and his mentor, so let's move onto Eberwolf.

Eberwolf is pretty heavily implied to be like a sibling to Darius. There's a lot of unexplored territory here and it makes me really sad. So this'll probably be the most sparsely talked about relationship here despite the fact that Darius and Eberwolf spend almost all of their screen time together.

I think the thing I want to point out was that Darius was not willing to let Eberwolf harmed or possibly killed during their fight with other coven heads on the day of unity. I feel like this may elude to a few things.

Darius cannot bare to lose someone in his life again. Or can't bare to see it, possibly again. He backs off immediately and the fear in his eyes is real.

Which shout out the animators for making that very apparent.

It's also very apparent in Eberwolf's expression as well. The expressions just say so much and tell so much of the story between the two that we don't get to see. We get shown and not told...Even if we weren't shown in a more direct way.

Saw this in another post but the scenes following where Eberwolf and Darius appear, also imply pretty heavily that when the spell started working, Eberwolf wanted to run to Darius. But he was in too much pain himself to make it over to him.

Darius knew they were all going to die if he didn't do anything but he chose not to anyway because the pain of losing Eberwolf right in front of him in such a terrible way stopped him. Darius let his fear of loss of someone he really cared about potential damn everyone on the isles. Another flaw, but another important note to tack onto his character.

Like yes, he would have saved everyone else but he probably would have caused him more heartache that he couldn't handle. He'd already been through a lot losing his mentor (and his best friend/possible love interest, but oh we will get to you, Alador Blight.), and this kind of implies that he probably couldn't do it again.

Though Darius acts smart and kind of logical, he's very driven by his emotions, his love and grief in particular, seemingly.

That being said, let's move on from Eberwolf. We're going to skip the obvious for now, and go onto why Darius is probably the best coven head or at least in the running next to Raine.

I'd like to let you all know that the abomination coven is pretty consistently stacked. Not only do they have Principal Bump, who has been shown to be a powerful which in his own right from his debut episode, but Alador, who's Darius' rival yes...But it's pretty lightly implied that Darius and Alador had shared their innovations and interests in abominations when they were younger. Alador probably knows some of what he knows from Darius. Though you could probably say the same the other way around, Alador didn't end up becoming the coven head. Darius is obviously the more skilled abomination user of the two.

Then you have up and coming prospects like Amity who's consistently been shown to be pretty powerful.

Willow even says in "I Was A Teenager Abomination":

"There are better opportunities on this track." when referring to the abomination tract at school.

Now don't get me wrong, coven system = bad. But I don't think the sense of community the coven system provides for witches is ALL bad.

I think the implication here, though subtle, is that Darius is fostering probably the most powerful coven in the entire system.

He's investing and nurturing new prospects. He's providing opportunities for witches in his coven that other covens are not. Darius truly cares about his community. He truly cares about his craft and furthering it through communal growth. He even wrote a book to show his knowledge with the people of the isles.

Darius has been shown to be on of the few characters who can change his form. He does this at will (seemingly) without the help of a curse of any kind. Darius is just powerful enough to change into an abomination monster and he's the only character who can do it. Which is impressive considering how stacked the rest of the abomination users in the show are.

Even Alador has made pretty rad innovations to the craft, even if Darius doesn't completely agree with them.

I also want to say that this points to Darius maybe being a engineer like Alador...but to contrast Alador being a mechanical one he's a genetic engineer, and that might be what's going on with his form. But that's again, pure speculation just from his seemingly opposite theming to Alador.

So it seems like Darius is also a good leader. One with a sense of duty and nurturing towards his community.

Now last but not least...

Let's fucking talk about.

AlaDarius.

Man I have so much to fucking say about these two HOLY SHIT.

They are literally only on screen together like 4 times and it's in the epilogue but just the implications we get from the little breadcrumbs we do have...Oh man.

So Darius and Alador were friends. We can prove that. They seemed to be on good teams in "Thems the Breaks, Kid." Alador talking to Darius and laughing once he flicks some abomination goo onto his face. With Odalia observing, unfortunately.

There's a lot that can be inferred by this. I don't think Odalia was always like she is now. But power, and maybe the prospect of it, corrupts. There's a lot that could have happened between these three.

Some theories:

It's possible that Odalia didn't have as many prospects as Darius or Alador coming up. Which might be why she pursued Alador in the first place. Alador's family has money, Odalia has a manipulative business sense, Alador is socially awkward and probably can't conduct business as well so that maybe got her in good with his family.

Maybe she even manipulated Alador into loving her over Darius by whispering lies in his ears and fueling the rivalry between them. Maybe she got Alador to push Darius away.

There's also the prospect that Alador's marriage to Odalia was arranged for whatever reason. Maybe his parents also told him to push Darius away because of that because they knew Alador and Darius were catching feelings for each other. Alador could have thought that this was normal and had a sense of duty to his family that he put over his love for Darius.

This could also be why he was okay with Odalia telling Amity to cut ties with Willow. Alador may have been forced to do the exact same thing.

And we've already established that when Darius cares about someone, he cares about them very hard. He loves and he loves deep. He already lashed out at Hunter because he loved his mentor so deeply, so why wouldn't he lash out at Alador for essentially abandoning him?

I think it's very clear that Darius loved Alador. Maybe he still does after all these years considering how he acted in the epilogue.

I mean look at him.

He shakes Alador in excitement and pride and pulls away all embarrassed. Pretending he still doesn't have feelings. He even like, touches his chest it's insane and insanely cute. Alador not knowing how to feel is also funny because he probably thinks Darius had either let go of his feelings or he's just surprised that he'd show him any kind of affection after everything.

I also have a theory that Darius possibly been wanting to reconnect with Alador for years. I think the rebellion and wanting to protect Alador from possibly getting threatened if he himself got caught might be a reason. It also might be anxiety. Maybe he's scared Alador might find a reason to abandon him again. Maybe he's actually actively traumatized by that prospect and he has work through it (god I wish this show had more time). Maybe it's all habit at this point too. He's just used to pushing Alador away at this point. Hell, maybe he even thinks that Alador should just be focusing on his children considering their mother is no longer in the picture and they're all healing as a family and he feels like that has nothing to do with him.

There's a lot of speculation.

I'm willing to bet SOME of this is right.

I also don't think this should be downplayed considering that Darius never mentions Odalia when seeing the abomaton in "Eda's Requiem." He didn't have to say anything at all but he's so hurt and so petty about being hurt by Alador SPECIFICALLY that he tells Kikimora to tell him that he's a hack.

There's something going on and I want to know what it is and I'm 80% sure that it's romantic.

I also want to also point out that we see Alador and Darius standing together in the very last shot of the show.

Like they do genuinely look like a family unite here and I truly appreciate it. It might take some time but but that's alright. I think they can figure it out. I think they genuinely can mend their relationship with each other since Darius was able to mend his with Hunter and Alador with his children.

They're both so flawed and had to grow in similar aspects. They're both so different but have these little bridges that truly connect them. Their love for abominations. How they both weren't the best father figures at first but learned to be better for their kids.

There's a lot of undertones with this relationship I truly enjoy.

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT HIS DESIGN.

I've been writing this essay for over 3 hours so I'm going to try to make this fast.

I won't go into how Darius is very effeminate Disney villain again, so I'll jump straight into his color palette.

Darius has 5 basic colors/shades in his design.

Black: Black invokes a few things. They all kind of pertain to Darius. Black can mean mystery. His past is very mysterious. He's basically a spy, which are mysterious. Black can also mean elegance and power. He loves fancy clothes and is very powerful.

Purple: Darius has a few shades of purple on him. This can be a nod to his craft as the abomination coven head. Purple also invokes regality which might be a nod to his influence in the witch community at large. Though not a ruler, he does have a presence that does seem almost like royalty. It's also the color of imagination. The abominations are somewhat like living sculptures, like art, eluding to imagination. He also sews, probably making his own outfits, which is a very creative endeavor. Purple also invokes compassion, enlightenment, and encouragement. It's also attached to those who are emotional and sensitive and sometimes immature.

Green: Green is a fantastic contrast to purple. I'm guessing this is why Darius' eyes were changed from purple to green. It made more sense with his design and gave it a bit more pop. While green is the color of envy (possibly eluding to his possibly jealousy of Odalia and Alador's relationship), it's also the color of judgement (again, looking at Alador) and materialism (my man loves his clothes). The positive side to this is green representing healing and growth as well. They represent things that Darius needs to let go and things that he actually needs.

Gold: Gold represents luxury, success, triumph, and loyalty. I feel like that's all pretty self explanatory considering all I've discussed so far. Darius studied hard under the olden guard to be successful, he triumphant and became the coven head, he's loyal to everyone he loves and his community. And he does enjoy a bit of luxury, too. :)

White: White actually means a lot of things. The ones I think pertain to Darius most are actually cleanliness, coldness, and purity believe it or not. Obviously he likes to be clean. Coldness because of how distant he starts towards Hunter, and how he maybe pushing away certain people because he doesn't want them getting hurt if he gets found out in the rebellion. This cold also be why his gloves are white. They're a symbol of his coldness over his hands. His coldness keeps him from touching other's, literally. It keeps him distant. Now purity maybe the surprising one here, but it's most so about his intentions, and his sense of duty, and his need to protect. Those things all come from a pure place, a pure good. Even if he himself isn't pure good. It's still in him. Also shout out to perfection as a meaning too but it's not confirmed but he seems like the type who would be a perfectionist.

Overall, his palette actually tells you everything you need to know about him. His silhouette is also pretty memorable. You can look at just that and know, yeah THAT'S Darius Deamonne. You can also tell little things about him from his silhouette through his posture and shapes of his clothes.

I'll also briefly mention his name.

Darius is a name of Persian/Greek/Latin Origin. It means "possessing goodness". And man that feels like a dead giveaway for him not being a bad guy once I type it now. The name can also mean "rich/king like" which...TRUE. And also it can mean "he who holds firm to good". Which is also true. It's also a very popular name among Black folks in the US.

Deamonne is... A little more complicated. It's both French and Greek oddly enough. There's not a lot about this name out there, honestly. Usually when you look it up on google most of the results pertain to well...Darius himself.

Deamonne might be a reference to the word daemon, itself a previous form of the word "demon"...But Daemons themselves are pretty different. The Greek meaning of the word seems to be "A divinity who or supernatural being of a nature between gods and humans." I wonder if MAYBE it's a nod to his status of being able to transform into abomination matter, making him maybe a hybrid or somewhere between being a witch or abomination? Who knows? Hard to say with this one.

I guess that's it! Maybe I'll reblog with an update if I can think of more. But this is my genuine exploration of why Darius means so much to me and why he deserved way better than he got.

These are all breadcrumbs really, and that's what makes his story so, so alluring. Because if they could tell this much with this little, I wonder what the could have showed us if he had even just a full episode to himself.

Here's the tl;dr with all the important points:

Darius probably had a bigger part to play in the Owl House's plot that got cut because of it's cancelation.

Darius' main driving emotion and motivation seems to be love.

Darius may have been planning to betray Belos for longer than we thought.

Darius is probably very scared of losing someone he loves again.

Darius come off as a little cold and distant because of those fears.

He'd lay down his life for people he loves.

He might be the best coven head in terms in leadership.

His color scheme and name lay out his character pretty bare.

I'm sure there's more here but thanks for reading. Sorry this ran long. I actually probably forgot some things in the summery above because I've been writing this for hours.

Have a good day and remember:

I'd give my soul and all my money for a Darius Deamonne spin off.

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

Wilbert's Worst

Right, so I really was open to having my mind changed on The Worst One but nobody’s argument has budged me.

I was going to write a complete, balanced essay on The Worst W. Awdry Book, but I’m a) mired in the research phase (hey if anyone knows someone with an encyclopedic knowledge of Tom and Jerry hit me up, for real) and b) right now I wanna talk about the characters and their Beloved Dynamics instead. 

So I'm just gonna get this out of the way so I can post the poll and move on to answering fun asks and watching Tom and Jerry in peace. Behold: a salty and unbalanced review.

Wilbert’s biggest failure of a children’s storybook? 

Henry the Green Engine 

Ohhh… because of the, uh, ra —?

Because of the racism, yes!

Oh. You do know that since 1972 they’ve republished it without the n-slur? 

Good for them. Two things: 

1. I know it used to be there, I’m never able to read it without knowing it was there in the first edition.

2. I consistently try, when ranking the books, to consider them in the context in which they came out. Because of this, I don’t like using “things that happened later” (like a new character never being properly used again or whatever) against the book. This helps me evaluate the author’s successes and failures against what they were trying to achieve when they wrote it vs what I would most want (blorbo content). It helps me not bring to bear the whole weight of fanon and fandom on a text that should be able to stand or fall on its own. Tl;dr I try to read the books like a guy who picked it up in 1951, or whatever. 

And yeah, if I’d bought this when it came out it would have had the slur. I’m going to judge it accordingly. 

Look, racism is bad, no argument, but does that mean the book as a whole must be condemned? 

Yeah, I think the slur and the “aaaand suddenly, blackface! heeheehee” bullshit fuck over the entire book, game over. Go directly to jail, do not collect $200. 

The Railway Series is not a work of high art or deep thorny complex literature. The books are meant for children — small children, at that. Children small enough to get bedtime stories read to them. The main goal of each book (especially this early on — you do have to manage secondary priorities like “pleasing the long-time fanbase” the longer you go, but right now we’re only 6 books into the series) is to create a happy imaginary world to enhance childhoods and family lives… to impart to other parents and kids a similar cosy happiness to that the author and his own kids enjoyed when he was workshopping/drafting the stories for them. When we say “children’s book” we really do mean little’uns — these average 1.25 full-color illustrations per page!

And these books sold in large numbers. This means it’s a certainty that somewhere in 1951 there was a Black family who owned the whole series, who went out to the shops, whose kid was like “ooh! Henry gets a book, neat…,” who like everyone else enjoyed the wild ride of Henry’s inspection and coal and wreck and rebuild… only to get verbally spat on one page from the end. 

Real mood-killer there. Epic fail, as the cool kids used to say in my youth. 

All right, fine, cool kids never said that. Anyway, statistically speaking there was certainly even more than one family that got that experience. Not to mention the non-Black families who even in 1951 were like “... wtf? i’d smack my kid if they ever said a word like that around me, geez. no.” Just a lot of people who had the light the book was kindling in them snuffed out all at once. 

You can actually be totally racist and your book not commit creative suicide on the penultimate page! Awdry flubbed his job of 'bestselling books-for-six-year-olds' here. Creative failure. Unforced error. Automatic zero. 

But times were different then, you have to consider it in the context of the time. 

1951 U.K. was not the nadir of multiracial equality or Black power, but jfc. I can assure you that over 99% of children’s books published that year in the Anglosphere managed to not use the n-slur. 

All right, all right. That was bad. But this feels off-topic. If you had never known about what used to be “Henry’s Sneeze,” would you still rank the entire book as dead last in the Wilbert Awdry corpus? 

Not dead last, but it is not a strong book. “Coal” and “The Flying Kipper” are super-interesting as material for Henry, but after that the book kind of falls off a cliff; the intrigue drops dramatically. The railway incidents chosen to make stories of are all solid choices, but it was not only “Sneeze” where Awdry’s handling of the material feels clumsy and weird. (And I’m not even talking here of the “heehee blackface — ain’t i a stinker?” gag in “Sneeze.”) 

But… “The Flying Kipper”? C’mon. It’s a superb story and no book that contains it can be the absolute worst in the series. 

“TFK” remains easily the best single TVS episode ever – but a lot of that is down to Britt and David’s artistry and judgment. 

Don’t get me wrong, a full-on railway wreck makes interesting material. But I don’t think the book does nearly as much with it as it could (and I’m trying sooooo hard here to forget about the amazing TVS adaptation, as I think it REALLY shows Awdry up. Even so, the storytelling here is surprisingly tepid and low-stakes). I get that Awdry probably wanted to lean into the comic angle and not make Henry’s condition afterwards seem too grave, in order to ensure the material wasn’t too dark for his young audience? (*mutters* again, a level of tender consideration for his readers’ youth that went right out the window when it came to small Black kids, evidently coz he couldn’t imagine that they read) Understandable, laudable — but if he outright refuses* to make the wreck too dramatic or scary then, well, then the wreck isn’t real scary or dramatic. And it can’t save the rest of the book from its flaws. 

*For all I know it could have been the publishers who insisted that the wreck be made preschooler-safe, that’s possible (although it’s also consistent with Awdry’s brand of humor and his overall low degree of emotionalism in his writing). Either way, though, the end result book is what it is and it will be judged accordingly. 

In addition to not being as exciting as many remember... @trainsupessandhuntresses asked me once if I thought some of Awdry's stories were "mean-spirited." I had to assent vigorously. And a surprisingly high proportion of those "mean" moments are in Henry the Green Engine? For some reason? It’s not just the racism. Awdry was not in the game to give Henry a deserved happy ending, he’d wanted to kill him off (the fuck?) and when his publishers prevented him (I don’t say this often, especially since I love how salty the Awdrys get about their publishers, but this in case good job, publishers!!) he wrote “TFK” with the primary motivation of giving Henry a new engine basis. Any soft or hearty emotions we get out of the deal are a side-effect — the only emotion that was fueling Awdry as he wrote this was spite, spite and a weird resentment towards his poor, long-suffering, invaluable illustrator. (I don’t blame Awdry for being frustrated that the engine illustrations were continually inaccurate or confusing, but I do think it’s weird to read all this great Henry material knowing that it was written with such poor grace.) 

So his ‘happy Henry’ stuff feels perfunctory; his Percy interlude is just brutal (why did you have to drag Percy into Henry’s book purely to give him a fuck-up, a scolding, and a messy dunce cap?); Gordon’s savaging of Henry for being too happy after recovering from a near-death experience is such an incredibly low point for Gordon that it’s hard for me to accept it as canon (there’s being proud, boastful, and self-absorbed, and then there’s being the straight-up raccoon dumpster fire Gordon is in that scene). Oh, and I think “call the police [local constabulary, doesn’t bear firearms]” woulda probably a less reckless way of dealing with the rock-throwing youths than the sneeze of hot locomotive ashes, which of course the Fat Controller doesn’t like, that shit coulda been real dangerous! Mind, there are small rays of kindness throughout that do get me (the interactions between Henry and his crew feeling to me the least perfunctory and most heartfelt), but this is overall such a mean-spirited book. God. It starts off with such a gentle story (almost a non-story, if you’re in it purely for the “railway incidents” game and not character drama), but in short order the vibes just sorta suck. At least in other RWS books, when the vibes are off, they’re usually off near the beginning and then improve by the end. This one gets worse as it goes on. Oof. Don’t like that. 

Also, the last page is sooooo lame. I suspect the publisher strong-armed Awdry into writing most of it so that at least the slur wasn’t on the last page of the book... and if Awdry had any idea of how much he’d just empowered Henry and all his fans in this book he shouldn’t have found it hard to find 50 extra words to sum things up. As it was, he’s just filling space and running out the clock, lol. Lame wrap-up. Boring. As usual when it comes to every little thing about this book, Britt and David closed this up better (mind, their closer – “He had taught Gordon and silly boys a lesson, with a whistle and a sneeze” – also sucked. But at least it was blessedly short.)

Didn’t you once list HtGE on a list of your favorite Wilbert Awdry books? 

I did list it as one of the books that “at one time or another” have been my favorite in the series. Unfortunately in the case of HtGE, that was back when I really couldn’t read a story that I knew from the TVS without mentally substituting the adaptation into my brain as I read… largely overriding the actual text. Plus, everything I knew from TVS as a kid kind of automatically got a halo effect. Plus, I was super into Henry’s arc. 

The first time I read HtGE after calming down and actually reading all the books as books... massive disappointment. There is such a gap there between what I'd thought the book said (all our incredible fanon work overanalyzing and headcanoning Henry and building this beautiful fantasy arc about disability!) vs. what it actually said (limp and careless writing, mean vibes, airbrushed n-slur, bad aftertaste). 

I do think there is some stuff about the development of Awdry’s storytelling technique here that is interesting (again, Tom and Jerry superfans reading this, please shoot me a message!) but it doesn’t counteract everything else. 

At least we’re over the racism stuff? 

Nah, I’m not over it, actually. 

[j0kers-light]

Chaos! Sorry if you feel uncomfortable with this question, i'm just so confused about the asexual spectrum

You don't feel sexual desire? Or you do but you don't like it and you don't want to act in it?

Because I have doubts about whether I am asexual but I feel desire, although I like the idea of having sexual relations in a fictitious way (for example Joker), in reality with a person of flesh and blood it disgusts me.

I’m BEYOND EXCITED that you asked anon!

The Ace spectrum is always confusing to outsiders and we aren’t quite understood or respected. I’m not uncomfortable with answering.

Let’s discuss 🖤💜🩶🤍✨

Every asexual person is different. I can only speak for myself. 👩🏽‍💻

In real life: I understand the concept of desire, I just don’t act on it. I don’t like hugs or kissing or holding hands. I can only hug my mom and sister without flinching. I can instinctively be affectionate to them without issue.

Anyone else I will literally jump and mentally panic until it’s over. No touchy. Please and thank you.

Seeing a penis annoys me irl. A date wanting to hold my hand, why? Wanting to kiss me? Again, why? 🤨

Not everything has to be sexual. Put your dick away. I hate my own vagina why do I wanna see someone else’s? Just..

And don’t get me wrong, I’m not repulsed by sex. I’m just indifferent to it. I’m personally not seeking it out. It’s fine if other people do it. It’s a natural process of life so go crazy, gag on a dick to your heart’s content.

I don’t have celebrity crushes or anything. Dating is hard the moment I explain I lean into the asexual spectrum. Some men ghost me and say I have a problem like it’s something they can cure. Because “I found them attractive enough to agree on this date, I must be into him.”

Uhhhh no. I have eyes, you’re beautiful. Wooo. I’m beautiful too? Next?

I don’t want sex. I crave an emotional connection with a person. Everything doesn’t have to be sexual. Our society is so toxic and overly sexual that it’s disgusting.

It takes me years just to build up the ‘desire’ to kiss someone and a date expects me to bounce on his dick after dinner. 🙄🙄🙄🙄

It’s depressing and really dehumanizing dating asexually. That’s all I’ll say. Let’s discuss my online presence.

Online: There are essays, studies, and memes about how asexual people x fictional characters work. Because they aren’t real, we can fantasize about them with no problem! I am free of any real consequences.

I’m a fictional whore. I’m a fictional slut. I can read and write filthy smut as an asexual person because it’s all fictional. Joker isn’t real to me so I can do whatever I want and vice versa.

That’s why I don’t self ship because I know I’ll never be in a relationship with anyone like that. I live vicariously through x reader.

It’s okay to be asexual and have fictional characters that you pretend to be attracted to and love. In those moments when I read a story, I feel ‘normal.’

It’s my escape from reality.

[theomnicode]

How I write metas? A meta about metas

If this deconstruction post is going to be useful for any aspiring meta writer on this OPM fandom that I currently follow, then be my guest. :D

Warning: Semi-long post.

Step 1: Inspiration

Nope, really can't get into my head all the time to write stuff as much as I would love to but when I do, it's because I get a good inspiration from something. It does not really matter at this point if it's short or long, just the subject matters. Then if I get inspired, I will usually stew on that idea for a while and think about the points in the manga that fit.

Unfortunately inspiration does not strike all the time so there's always that. I'm going with the route that "you can't force inspiration to come to you, you want the inspiration to become you" or something like that. Take that with grain of salt, I just made it up on the spot.

Step 2: Practice

I've personally been writing fanfics since I was...a teen I believe and meta is just a subsection of writing school essays, except it's actually fun. So writing something has been quite a lot of work put behind it, but nobody says one cannot start from scratch today and the meta doesn't need to be immediately impressive, we're just writing it for fun yanno? For other fandom peeps who maybe wanna hear our thoughts. Just gotta start from somewhere yanno? My earlier metas are prolly a fair bit different than my current metas.

Like they say, practice makes perfect.

Step 3: The creative process

Ok so to the nitty gritty of the meta making... PLOT NO JUTSU!

I oftentimes either discuss the meta on discord channels with likeminded peeps and then start gathering some images from the manga to use as my images to enhance my point and make my texts also visually interesting to look at and make some clarifying points. I tend to find some good relative image to use as my first image because it'll show up in archive search like so:

It'll be easier to search for my metas even without searching for my tags from my archives if they look similar.

Next, I keep a folder for all my meta images in a neat pile and I use paint ms to cut me nice images to post into my meta and I also have cubari , the one site which hosts all the chapters so far, open where I can just grab images whenever. Basically any kind of image tool you got from paint to gimp to photoshop can help you crop images you want to use if you want to use images in your meta.

My brain can sometimes be pretty hard to follow apparently, so I do try to parse a lot when I write my texts and keep it somewhat coherent. Parsing information via the canon timeline can help form a coherent timeline to follow in a meta.

In general, you want your writing progress to be seamless and disturbance free creative process, not unlike drawing. Sometimes ambient music on the background can help focus on the actual meta writing process (currently listening to Ardenweald from WoW), which can take me from 1 hour to all the way to 5 hours in a single sitting, which is quite long but remember, tumblr drafts saves your progress even if you save it nowhere else and it's entirely possible to finish the thinking process another day when you have more time.

Sometimes I include links to either my own metas or some outside source, which I then briefly quote on my text, like in the Saitama mental health meta where I citate depression effects on memory recollection. The quote sources can also be stated at the very end like in a real essay, but to me personally I'm fine without the citations at the end, long as I state my sources and then put quotes into indented text.

Step 4: The writing itself

Paraphrasing helps make your text look coherent and easier to read to just about anybody, so avoid pure walls of texts. I usually write longer texts, but that is up to the writer to decide how short, long or how abridged they can/wanna make their work, which frankly is not one of my best skillsets lmao. Just gotta make sure to put that warning in the front if it's long post.

Nowdays, I also include chapter names and numbers about the relevant information I'm writing meta about in between () marks and itallics to further separate it from plain text, which might be helpful to people if they search for that specific plot point from the manga itself. Then if it's a particularly long meta, a tl;dr at the bottom if I can form a proper tldr.

Sometimes I also get struck by random thought and I just have to write it out haha. Sometimes I ask for aid and opinions on discord channels.

Any long metas should definitely have that "readmore" cutoff in the beginning, else entirety of tumblr or wherever you'll post the meta will hate you.

Step 5: Revision & Tagging

You can hold on from posting the meta the very same day and just keep it revised for a bit longer if you want to correct spelling mistakes or if you think you can maybe adds some more to it. Revision is just as important in writing meta as in writing something like fanfiction and I personally do a fair bit of both.

When tagging, I just use "opm meta" for all my opm related metas and then tag in fandom and characters that apply to the current meta and then some other related subjects like "mental health, character study" etc. I prolly haven't tagged my earlier metas that properly but eh... if you write on another platform and then copypaste it to tumblr, make sure that the plain text shows properly and doesn't create any weirdness.

Closing thoughts...that's about it folks, that's how I write meta and how I wrote this piece as well. Which took me roughtly 1hr 45mins to write down at my current writing speed but I've been thinking about this since yesterday haha.

Tl;dr: Inspiration, practice, creative process by saving images and thoughts as they go, writing and paraphrasing, revision and tagging properly.

[sout999]

I *finally* watched your animation today and I am at awe... oh my god sout!!! I got goosebumps at the end.. creating life from merging two creatures (whether animated or not) is one of my favourite tropes and it was thrilling to watch..!!! I love how the style feels like a VHS, reminded me of these old russian fairytale animations ♥ The music is so good too ahh <33 I wish I could leave an essay comment on YT but that's fine, thank you for having your ask box open ♥ I feel so lucky to have experienced your work, it's truly wonderful! I always loved your animations, characters & creatures and admired the vocality in your works about the 90's anime and anything revolving that era in the early 2000's (and anything else you're mixing in your magic pot, haha!!). //cries IT'S SO SO BEAUTIFUL!! ♥ You're amazingg, I hope you have a wonderful day!!!! ♥

MY DARLINGGG KONVEE thank you so much for the amazing words and for believing in me all these years ;_ ; I hope this is ok to answer publicly because I think you've put it all beautifully and also it's extremely validating to know my work has paid off in some capacity. I'm glad you caught the themes of generational abuse and all the merging/transformation stuff, these are all really the heart of the film but i didn't want to express the too overtly because thats just Not My Style. I think it's beautiful that everyone can take away something that resonates with them. Maybe someday I'll be brave enough to turn Youtube comments on and hear what everyone got from it but for now those two words fill me with fear hahah.

If you wanna read my dissertation I've put it up on Drive, please be nice because I had to partially phone it in to concentrate on the film instead (sad bc i love to write but also picking your battles etc), but it does express a lot of themes that I liked to explore in this project and in art as a whole. If you want to read something shorter I'm also attaching an essay I did for Honours year that got 95/100 score but maybe my professor was just really nice. Dissertation (Time-Image, Gender and Folk Horror): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1MlURE-furI_z19jrlX_XyxUsNPnO_vPR/view?usp=share_link Essay (The Monstrous Queer): https://drive.google.com/file/d/1CPAMIhlVx3h2LC-cZTdB73ehGJK0LLHP/view?usp=sharing

[dangermousie]

would you happen to have thoughts about the acting/casting and/or depth of characterization in rise of ning? i'm watching it and wanna be more into it but fsr most of the cast (besides wanyi and the stepmom) are not very...charismatic? to me 😧 would love a convincing mousie blog on the topic if you have one up your sleeve!

I am a terrible person for this kind of question because (a) I tend to watch most shows for the mains and supportings are less important to me in general and (b) I am not really a person who wants to convince others to like what I like because all my liking means is I enjoy it; others may or may not - I am no arbiter.

This said, while the OTP are the shining stars of the show for me, I do find the rest of the characters interesting (even if a lot of them are not likable - I dare anyone to find Dad likable.) I think it's because they all feel like real people to me - in their good and their petty. Even minor characters like First Aunt - I knooow women like this. Or the Dad - too many men are like that. Or take oldest daughter of First Aunt - so many other narratives would make her evil or besotted stupidly to the end but she is not - she ends up doing the sane thing and moving on from her crush and repaying FL's favor; but they don't become BFFs, they basically a nicely tolerant, which is a realistic thing in families.

And it allows characters both greyness and consistency. Take Lady Qiao. Awful person but loving mother and you really understand how Dad and societal structures pushed her into what she is. Or, even better, grandma - she is very much a grande dame of society, I am sure she was a good wife, but it's clear she is part of all the generational trauma and dad got his tendency to favoritism from her. And I love that she's consistently so - no magic change of heart vis-a-vis ML. It's realistic.

As to non-Luos, the only ones we really see are Ci Sha's sinister sexy marquis and his nephew. I am interested in the former not just for the hotness (tho mmmm) but because I want to know what his deal is, and nephew is interesting enough for a minor character.

(I am leaving actors out of this write up because I think they all do fine jobs, but mainly because unless acting is truly bad, I care about the characters only.)

This said - this is (a) very much a costume take on slice of life or, perhaps better, a cdrama take on something like a Gaskell novel - I love that small but wonderful subgenre but depending on one's taste, it just might not be one's bag (no matter how well a proper harem drama is made, for example, I just don't like them) and (b) this is all my very subjective take - I am a big fan of "clicking." I believe things either click for us or don't, somewhere in the lizard brain; we can then write a long explanation as to why but it really is an attempt to explain after the fact. And this just might be a situation where those characters/narratives just don't click for you. I mean, plenty of people enjoyed Are You the One this year and I felt like it poisoned my puppy - not even 100 essays could ever make me like it because it's so subjective. I could very well go "I get why X likes it" but it would, alas, not make me like it any more than I do now. I am one of probably three people who dislike the main premise of Nirvana in Fire (could write essays on it!) and the fact that everyone else loves it has not changed my mind.

I can perhaps explain (badly) why I think the click happened for me here, but I have no eloquence to make that click happen for anyone else (if I did, mwhahahahahaha I would take over the world and adapt every good danmei out there :P)