#i dont always like my writing so hearing that other ppl do makes me so happy

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[honeyryewhiskey]

mirrored souls

or, dean dreams of what he believes he can never have. warnings ! angst, hurt/some comfort, dean's feelings are hurt, unexpected pregnancy, tough conversations, two ppl with the same fears j's note ! hey so let's not even talk about the fact that this is neither of the two fics i posted snippets of lol idk what possessed me to write 5k fucking words for this i'm sorry i just want to baby trap dean winchester erm idk enjoy? it's sad but maybe pls dont take my word for it i'll continue this and let them be happy also i stopped proof reading half way through bc it is my bed time <3 5k words

He’s had this dream every night for weeks. 

The sun is golden, thick with warmth, stretching over endless fields of green. It settles on his skin like an old friend, seeps into his bones, loosening the ever-present tension in his shoulders. The air is clean, carrying the scent of wildflowers and summer, and for the first time in his life, he feels safe. Like he could lie back in the grass, close his eyes, and let the world move on without him.

Then, he hears her.

A laugh—small and weightless, like wind chimes in a summer breeze—rings through the stillness. It stops him cold, strikes something deep in his chest that he doesn’t know how to name.

He turns, and she’s there.

She can’t be older than four, standing barefoot in the grass, staring up at him with wide, curious eyes—green as polished emeralds, too big for her little face. His eyes.

But everything else—her delicate nose, the slope of her cheekbones, the way her wild hair frames her face—that’s you.

She tilts her head, smiling in a way that makes something inside him shatter. Then she reaches for him, small fingers wrapping around his calloused hand like she’s always belonged there.

And just like that—like the break of a wave, like the snap of a thread—she’s gone.

Dean wakes with a sharp inhale, the remnants of warmth already fading, replaced by the cold press of reality. His chest aches, heavy with something deeper than longing. A quiet, creeping fear slithers in, curling around his ribs.

Because she has his eyes and your face—a combination that will never exist.

You left. And you haven’t come back in months.

It was always cat and mouse with you—years of fleeting moments, an unspoken desire for more that neither of you had the courage to face. You’d cross paths, use each other's bodies to release some tension, but never linger long enough to ignite anything real. 

Until about eight months ago, when everything changed. You stayed longer than just a weekend. Dean had you in his arms for four months—four months that felt like a lifetime of stolen moments, of finally letting down walls you both had built so high. But when it all started to feel too real, when the weight of it all settled between you like an unspoken truth, you pulled away. You told him it was too much, that you needed space, that you couldn’t do it anymore. You needed to breathe, to step back before it swallowed you whole. And with that, you walked away, leaving him to sift through the pieces of something that was never meant to last.

His heavy hand slams down on the bleating alarm clock beside his bed. The sharp noise cuts off, leaving only the ragged sound of his breathing in the dark. He drags a hand down his face, fingers pressing into his tired eyes, but it doesn’t do anything to clear the remnants of the dream—the sunlight, the laughter, the way she looked at him like he was her whole damn world.

Dean exhales sharply and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Another short night, another dream of something that doesn’t exist, of someone who will never be real. He tells himself it’s just a trick of the mind, a byproduct of too many years spent running on empty. But the truth—the one he won’t say out loud—is that the dreams never started until you left.

And maybe that’s what makes them feel more like a haunting than a fantasy.

He’s spent each day the past four months trying to shove it down, burying it under booze and hunts and half-hearted distractions. But it doesn’t matter how many times he tells himself he’s over it, that he saw it coming. Because he did. He knew you would run the second things got too real, the second you got too close, too comfortable, like maybe you wanted this life with him.

And then, just like his dream, you were gone.

You never said it outright, but he knew—deep down, you were always more like him than you wanted to admit. Built for the road, for the chase. Love wasn’t something you stayed for.

Except you never really left, not completely.

Every now and then, his phone would ring, and it’d be your voice on the other end—casual, distant, asking about a hunt, about a lead on something nasty you were tracking. Always avoiding the bigger conversation, never asking how he’s been, never giving him the chance to ask where you are.

And Dean let it happen. Let you keep him at arm’s length. Because at least this way, you were still something in his life.

But now, sitting on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands, the dream still fresh in his mind, it pisses him off.

He stands, yanking on a t-shirt and running a hand through his hair before heading for the door. He just needs coffee—something to shake off the lingering ache sitting heavy in his chest.

But the second he steps into the hall, Sam is there, hovering with that anxious look that never means anything good.

“Hey,” Sam starts, lifting a hand like he’s trying to calm a wild animal. “Before you go in there, just—don’t freak out, okay?”

Dean’s stomach tightens, his muscles tensing. The look he cuts Sam with makes the younger brother’s eyes widen, searching for words to mediate and settle the storm brewing at either side of him. “Sam, what the hell are you—”

Before Sam can answer, Dean hears it.

The sound of pacing. Quick, uneven steps against the kitchen floor. His body goes still, his breath catching in his throat. He doesn’t need to see you to know.

You’re here.

Dean’s pulse pounds in his ears. His stubborn rage choking out the glimmer of childish hope that sets his nerves on fire. He stares at Sam, waiting for some kind of explanation, but Sam just shifts on his feet, uneasy.

That’s when another sound cuts through the silence—your voice.

Muffled, pacing, like you’re muttering to yourself between shallow breaths.

Dean swallows hard, his jaw clenching as he pushes past Sam. His mind is already racing, his thoughts a tangled mess of you, his dreams, his heartache and the damn voice in his head telling him to grip you tight enough so that you can’t leave him again. Whatever this is, whatever brought you back, he’s not in the mood for it. Not today. Not after all this time.

But when he steps into the kitchen, the world tilts on its axis.

You freeze mid-step, eyes wide, hands curled tightly around the edge of the counter as if you’re holding yourself together, bracing for something. For him, maybe. Your posture is rigid, your whole body taut with tension. You look… different. There’s an unreadable heaviness in the way you stand, the nervous bite of your lip as you chew it—like you’re preparing for a blow, for him to lash out, to reject you. 

A heavy silence falls over the room, thick and suffocating. His heart hammers in his chest, but there’s no anger now, no easy target to aim it at. Just this painful, aching pull between what he wants and what he’s afraid to hope for.

“You…” He’s barely able to get the word out. His throat feels tight, words caught somewhere between anger and something much softer, something more dangerous. He’s not sure which one is scarier.

You glance at him, then quickly look away, the uncertainty in your eyes like a crack in a mirror he never thought he’d see. Dean feels something in his chest twist—familiar, painful, like it’s been waiting for you to come back and break him open all over again.

His mind is a whirlwind. He wants to be angry—hell, he’s had four months of anger built up over your disappearing act. But standing here, with you so close, he realizes just how torn he is inside.

He wants to scream at you, demand to know why you didn’t come back sooner, why you couldn’t have just stayed. But that’s not the real question, is it? Because deep down, a part of him knows it wasn’t just you who ran. It was him, too. He shut off long ago, convincing himself it was easier that way. He was easier that way.

But you? You always seemed to slip through his defenses.

Dean stares at you, struggling to find his voice, his hands suddenly feeling useless at his sides. The walls he’s built up for his entire life—years of anger, bitterness, and pain—are cracking, piece by piece, and he has no idea how to stop it.

Dean crosses his arms, trying to shove down the storm already brewing inside him. “Well,” his voice is rough with sleep and something dangerously close to hurt. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

Your spine straightens, and just like that, the tension shifts. Whatever nerves had you pacing seconds ago are buried under the sharp edge of your own attitude. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly plan on it either.”

Dean scoffs, a bitter chuckle, the undertone to the eye roll he throws you. “Oh, great. That makes me feel real special.”

“I…” You hesitate, fingers digging into the edge of the counter before you let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know what I’m doing here, Dean. I don’t know if this is the right thing, or if I’m just—” you stop yourself, biting your lip again. You were never as good as he was at hiding your pain. It’s evident now, in the vulnerability in your eyes that cuts through him, raw and unguarded, and it makes everything inside him spin faster.

Sam clears his throat. “Why don’t I give you guys some space?” He glances between the two of you, clearly ready to escape the tension.

Dean doesn’t look at him, just stares at you as you stand firm, the scowl on your face trying desperately to cover the sadness in your eyes. The fact that you’re asking for anything at all should piss him off. After months of the half-hearted check-ins that only ever came when you needed something, after the way you left—why should he give you the time of day?

But he can’t say no.

And that scares him more than anything.

Sam nods to himself when neither of you protest and slips out of the kitchen, leaving you and Dean in thick, suffocating silence.

“Why are you here?” His voice comes out quieter than he intended, but the question hangs in the air, laced with something deeper, something that sounds too much like hope. A falsehood he’s terrified to acknowledge.

You take a shaky breath, your shoulders slumping just slightly, as if the weight of being in the same room as him is too much to carry alone.

Dean takes a step toward you, his feet heavy on the floor, his chest aching. His instincts shout at him to pull away, to protect himself from the inevitable hurt, but something else—something buried deep inside him—begs him to go closer.

The words come out before he can stop them, quieter now, barely a whisper. “I don’t know if I can do this again, are we gonna keep pretending we have nothing to talk about?”

You wince, a flicker of pain crossing your face, and it rips through him. He wasn’t trying to hurt you, but he can’t stop the words. He can’t stop the fear, the resentment, that’s built up over all this time.

"I don't know if I can just act like nothing ever happened between us. Like you didn't leave me. Like..." His voice breaks off, his throat thick with emotion he’s been swallowing for far too long. He’s not even sure who he’s trying to convince anymore, you or himself.

His hands are trembling now, and he clenches them into fists, fighting to keep the storm inside him contained. But every time he looks at you, sees the way you’re standing before him, so tired and lacking the fire that he always adored. That you’re here now when he never thought he’d see you again, it pulls him under a wave of emotion he can’t quite place.

“I don’t know how to do this, not after everything,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You can’t just waltz back in here and expect me to be okay with it.”

Your eyes fill with regret, but there's something else too—a quiet understanding. You know what you’ve done. You know what this looks like, but still, you're standing here. And that small, painful spark of hope flickers in the pit of his stomach.

“Can we just sit and talk, please?” Your voice is soft, pleading. And this time, you don’t look away.

Dean stands there, his whole body tense, his mind screaming conflicting words in the crosshairs—walk away, stay. But something in your gaze, in your quiet desperation, tugs at him. For a moment, he’s paralyzed—conflicted in the most unfamiliar way.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, he nods. “Fine. But we talk,” he jabs a finger at you, his brows set with an intensity that makes your breath catch in your throat, “really talk. No more running.”

You nod, your shoulders relaxing, just slightly, and Dean wonders, not for the first time, if maybe—just maybe—he’s still capable of believing in the possibility of this. Of you.

His eyes narrow, the weight of years of unresolved anger and hurt pressing down on him. But despite it all, despite everything you put him through, he can’t seem to dig his heels into this anger. Not when you’re standing here, so close, with those big, pleading eyes that always seemed to strip him bare.

The years of touch and go, the broken promises, the words left unsaid—they all float between you, a suffocating fog that neither of you knows how to break. But Dean’s tired. Tired of fighting this pull, this pull toward you he can’t seem to ignore, no matter how many times you leave.

With a frustrated sigh, he crosses the kitchen, the hard floor beneath his boots clacking louder than it should. He grabs two chairs from the worn wooden table, scraping them across the linoleum as he sets them down. Wordlessly, he nods toward the seat beside him.

“Sit,” he mutters, his voice rougher than he meant it to be.

You stand there for a moment, the air between you thick with things left unsaid. And then, quietly, you take the seat next to him.

Dean can feel the weight of the moment in every fiber of his being. He doesn’t want to look at you. Not yet. Not until he’s ready to hear whatever it is you came to say.

The silence stretches on, thick and uncomfortable, as you sit side by side, neither of you knowing how to begin.

Finally, you clear your throat, a small sound, but it’s enough to break through the tension. “Look, I know I don’t have the right to ask you for anything. But… can we just talk, like we used to? No games. No running away this time, okay?”

Dean stares at the table in front of him, his fingers tapping restlessly against the edge. Your words hit harder than he expected, and for a second, his chest tightens with something raw and unfamiliar.

“I don’t know how to do this anymore, you know?” he says quietly, almost to himself. “Every time you leave… it’s like you take a piece of me with you. And I’m just left here picking up the pieces, wondering if you’ll ever come back.”

You wince at the admission, and it hits him harder than he wants to admit. He doesn’t know why he said it—maybe because this is the first time in years that you’re actually sitting here, facing him. Maybe because it’s the first time in years that he feels like you might actually be willing to stay.

You reach out, placing a tentative hand on his, stilling the tapping. And for a brief moment, his breath catches.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, Dean,” you say softly. “I never wanted to be another person who hurts you.”

to forget the months of silence, the aching space you left behind. He wants to pull you close, bury his face in your neck, and pretend none of it ever happened—that you never walked away, that he never let you.

But reality crashes down just as fast.

He can’t let himself go there, can’t let himself believe this is something he can have without it slipping through his fingers. So instead, he exhales sharply, shoving that fragile part of himself deep down where it belongs. His jaw tightens, and when he finally speaks, his voice is rough, edged with his angry armor.

“Then why did you leave?” he grits out, his voice quiet but commanding. He needs to know. Needs to understand why the person he thought he might finally let himself love disappeared without a trace.

You pull your hand back, lips pressed tight. “I—”

The silence stretches between you, thick and heavy, like the weight of months spent apart. Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around what’s happening, why you’re here, why you’re sitting beside him, but something shifts in your expression.

You take a deep breath, eyes falling to your lap before lifting to meet his gaze.

“I’m sorry,” you say, the words soft but full of weight. “I’m sorry for always running off. For disappearing when things got too real. I know it’s not fair.”

Dean’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t interrupt. He doesn’t know what to say, what to feel.

“I was scared,” you continue, voice breaking just a little. “I still am. I…” Your words falter, but then you press on, searching his eyes for understanding. “I was consumed with this fear of losing it all. That I’d attach myself to you and this life would rip you away.”

The quiet admission sits heavy in the air. Dean feels his heart thudding faster beneath his rib cage. A pang of regret washes over him, for never admitting he shared that fear. That he thought he would be the thing that rips you apart. And maybe if he had, you wouldn’t have felt alone in those thoughts. 

You run a hand through your hair, a nervous gesture, and he watches the movement, the tension in your body. “I didn’t think I could do this. I didn’t think we could do this. I don’t see a world where something like that survives,” you shake your head, lost in the thoughts that shuffle through as you try to find your words, “Where… where we get a happy ending.”

Dean feels his chest tighten, his pulse speeding up as he takes in what you’re saying. The words hang between you, both of you holding your breath. And for a long, painful moment, the only sound in the room is the distant hum of the refrigerator, a constant reminder that time is still moving, even when it feels like everything’s frozen in place.

“I’m not saying that I don’t want it, Dean,” you add quickly, your voice cracking. “I just—I don’t know how to believe it’s possible. But I didn’t come here to ask for you to take me back.”

Dean stares at you, his pulse hammering against his ribs. There it is—that damn crack in your voice, the one that always cuts through him like a blade. He wants to be angry, to hold onto the bitterness that’s been festering since you left, but it slips through his fingers the second he sees the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re scared. Like you don’t expect him to want this.

Like you don’t expect him to want you.

His throat tightens, his fists clenching at his sides as he fights the urge to reach for you. “Then what do you want?” His voice is quieter now, rougher. “If you’re not here to ask me for anything, then why come back?”

You open your mouth, then close it, searching for words. Your fingers twist in the hem of your jacket, your shoulders curling inward, like you’re bracing for him to tear you apart. And damn it, that does something to him, because he’s never wanted to be the reason you look like that.

Dean drags a hand down his face, trying to ground himself. His mind is a battlefield, waging war between the fear clawing at his insides and the need to fix this—fix you. But how the hell is he supposed to do that when he’s still not sure how to fix himself?

“You don’t know how to believe it’s possible?” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Yeah, well, join the damn club.” His chest feels too tight, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “You think I had some fairytale idea of us, sweetheart? That I thought this would be easy?” He lets out a breath that’s more of a laugh, humorless and hollow. “Hell, I don’t even know if I’d be any good at this. But you didn’t give me the chance to figure it out, did you?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, a tear slipping down your cheek before you can stop it. And God, he hates that. He hates seeing you cry. Hates even more that he’s the reason for it.

“I was scared,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like shattered glass. “I am scared.”

Dean swallows hard, his anger flickering, giving way to something deeper, something more painful. He’s scared too. He’s scared as hell. Of not being enough. Of screwing this up. Of losing you all over again.

But when he looks at you—when he sees the way you’re trembling, barely holding yourself together—it hits him. He’s not the only one drowning in this.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair before finally, finally stepping forward. His hands hover for a second before settling on your arms, grounding you. Grounding himself.

“Yeah, well,” he mutters, softer now, “I guess we can be scared together.”

You drag the backs of your hands across your cheeks, trying to contain the tears that just won’t stop flowing. “No, Dean, you don’t get it—” you cut yourself off with a groan. Your breathing is coming out uneven as anxiety pulls at your every nerve, and suddenly you can’t sit still. You can’t do this. 

You’re up on your feet again, pacing slightly as you try to steady your breathing. 

Dean watches you, his stomach twisting as you distance yourself. There’s a wild, frantic energy in the way you move, your arms wrapping around yourself like you’re trying to hold yourself together. Your breath is uneven, shaky, and those damn tears keep slipping past your lashes no matter how hard you try to blink them away.

His fingers twitch at his sides, itching to reach for you again, to do something—anything—to stop that panicked look from overtaking your face. It melts his resolve, steadies his rising temper.

His voice comes quieter this time, hesitant. “Hey—what’s going on?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you press the heels of your hands into your eyes, shaking your head as if you can will away whatever storm is raging inside you.

Dean’s chest tightens. His mind is running through every possibility, each one worse than the last. “Sweetheart,” he tries again, the pet name easing off his tongue as if no time had passed since he last called you that, “talk to me.”

"I... I didn't catch it in time, I'm sorry." You start, your voice barely more than a whisper, the words thick with something he can't quite name. Your eyes squeeze shut as if the simple act of speaking is too much.

Dean’s chest tightens, a knot of confusion twisting in his stomach. “What the hell are you talking about?” His tone is gentle now, trying to coax it out of you, but the moment you raise your eyes, he sees it—the fear, raw and trembling beneath the surface.

He’s on his feet again, closing in on you like you’re a scared animal that’ll take flight from any sudden movement. 

“I just thought it was stress making me miss my period again, but…” You choke, your voice cracking as if admitting it out loud is tearing something inside you apart.

Dean’s breath hitches, and his heart races, but he doesn’t dare interrupt you, his own confusion giving way to a growing sense of dread. He takes another step toward you, but you flinch, eyes shimmering with tears that slip through your heavy breathing.

You finally break, the tears turning into sobs that shake your shoulders. You shake your head, wiping at your face again, as if trying to push it all away. But it’s too late now.

“I’m scared, D.” You gasp the words out, the weight of them crushing you. “I’m so scared.”

Dean’s chest tightens, a cold sensation creeping down his spine, even as his heart lurches in his chest. He can feel the tremor in your voice, the rawness in every syllable, but he can’t make sense of it. The world seems to slow, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place—but not quickly enough for his mind to catch up.

“What… What are you saying?” He asks, his voice quiet, strained with confusion and something that feels dangerously close to panic.

You glance up at him, eyes wide and glassy with tears. You open your mouth, but the words seem stuck, lodged in your throat. The silence between you is deafening.

Finally, you take a deep breath, almost like you’re gathering the strength to face something unbearable. “I’m pregnant, Dean.” The words fall from your lips in a broken whisper. “I’m pregnant.”

Dean freezes. His entire body goes still, as though he’s forgotten how to breathe. The weight of your words hits him like a freight train, and for a moment, everything goes silent except for the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Pregnant.

His mouth goes dry, his thoughts scrambling, trying to make sense of it all. The pieces click into place—the missed periods, the way you looked at him when you walked in, the way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

His dreams.

 He takes a half-step back, his mind too far behind, too rattled by the weight of what you just said.

And then, slowly, it hits him—this isn’t just a shock; it’s a bombshell. One that could tear everything apart, and yet, at the same time, it pulls something from him that he hasn’t felt in a long time. The edges of his world begin to blur. He’s scared. He’s terrified.

“Are you… are you sure?” His voice comes out rough, almost panicked, like he’s waiting for you to tell him this is some sick joke, but he knows it’s not.

You nod, sniffling. "I took a test, I went to the doctor and they told me I was already four months along." you whisper, choking back a sob. "I didn’t know what to do."

Dean steps closer, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady you. But you flinch again, the space between you thick with everything you’ve never said to him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you. I could have just called, I should have—” Your voice cracks, and you finally meet his gaze, eyes full of everything—regret, fear, and a raw, aching vulnerability that threatens to break him.

Dean's heart races, the panic starting to crawl up his throat. He wants to scream, to tell you that he’s terrified—that he doesn’t know how to be a father, that he’s too broken, too fucked up to raise a kid. The thought of something happening to you, to your child, terrifies him in ways he can’t even put into words. But you’re standing there, so small, so vulnerable, looking at him like he’s the only one who can fix this. And damn it, he has to be strong.

He closes the distance between and pulls you into his arms before either of you can second guess it. His hands are warm and steady on your back, but inside, his mind is a storm. His pulse is erratic, his breath shallow, but he holds you close, trying to give you the comfort he doesn’t know how to find for himself.

“Hey,” he murmurs against your hair, his voice like a lighthouse to steer your sinking ship. “Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re not alone in this.”

You shake your head against his chest, a shaky breath escaping. “I’m so scared, Dean. I don’t know what to do.”

He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, his expression soft but full of intensity. His thumbs pushes away your tears, warm and rough against your skin. “You don’t have to know right now,” he assures you, trying to convince himself as much as you. “We’ll figure it out. One step at a time. I’m here, okay? We’ll get through this.”

Inside, though, his mind is spinning out of control. He doesn’t know how to be the man you need. He doesn’t know if he can even be the father this child deserves. But in this moment, he’s all you have. And somehow, he knows that no matter how badly he’s freaking out, no matter how scared he is, he’ll find a way to make this work—for you, for the little life growing inside of you.

He gently strokes your hair, pressing his cheek to the top of your head, grounding himself in the act. “We’ll figure it out,” he whispers again, his voice thick with the promise of something more than just words.

But inside, the panic churns, a rising tide he can’t escape. He holds you tighter, pretending for your sake that everything will be fine, even as the weight of the world presses down on him.

edit to add tags why do i always forget tags @titsout4jackles @floralscented @deansbeer @snowluvvie @ultravi0lence14

[thatdeadaquarius]

OKAY BUT I HAVE MORE IDEA FOR BLUNT READER CUZ I LOVE THAT AU SO MUCHANDMDJFKSLDKF

So you know how french people's insult are always outta pocket (from a person who's first language is french I can tell you that no other language compares in insult -apart for African languages)

Like,, some "bad" insult here would be : bitch, fuck off, whore,..

Which we can all agree is boring...

BUT THEN IN FRENCH!!!

We be getting creative with it

Eg.

"mange tes mort" wich translates to "eat your dead (relatives)"

"vas te fair enculer" means "go get yourself pegged in the ass"

(yes, we have a specific word for being fucked in the ass 💀)

AND THOSE WOULD BE THE COMMON ONES AS WELL

English could never compare ✨

BUT ANYWAYS

how would the characters react if reader was from france/ belgium/ canada(or any other french speaking country) and started cursing people out like they eould do in their home countrie !?!?

The eay their face would drop

We would make a couple of people cry

AND GOD(us haha) FORBID A KID OVER-HEAR US AND STARTS REPEATING US

Trying to un-teach them would be hell *cries*

Your thoughts?

Love yaaaa~

ABSOLUTE TOP TIER ORAH MY BELOVED!!

Nobody has any idea how much I HATE ENGLISH both for its rules/pronounciation BS/etc. But also, most importantly, THERES LIKE NO GOOD CUSS WORDS- OR LIKE CUSS PHRASES??

I HAD TO PUT THIS GIF BC THAT WAS LITERALLY ME WHEN I HAD THE REALIZATION TO LOOK UP OTHER LANGUAGE CUSS WORDS AND I WAS JUST BLOWN AWAY BY HOW GOOD THEY WERE- HOW CREATIVE- 😫😭🥲 ENGLISH WHY R U SO SHITY IN EVERY POSSIBLE LANGUAGE SITUATION-

like idk we got "eat shit and die / fuck off / go fuck yourself" ???? Like- thats pathetic 😟.

I love hearing someone just cuss smbody out their native language/non-english, it’s so badass and cool to see

Anyway u already know i love non-native english speakers from the bottom of my heart✨️

GOD I FUCKING LOVE BLUNT LANGUAGE AU ITS LIKE ONE OF TOP FAV AS U CAN PROBABLY GUESS I COULD WRITE A LITERAL FANFIC ENTIRELY OFF THIS SIMPLE PREMISE 💖💓💗💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

omg so i HAVE SPECIFICALLY HEARD ABT FRENCH BEING RLLY CREATIVEEE

and i researched french cusswords/phrases,,,

😭 BRO IM CRYING

“bête comme ses pieds!” IM ROLLING ON THE FLOOR-

(trans: you’re as stupid AS YOUR FEEEEEETT)

idk what’s funnier, you translating urself in real time and saying all these phrases to ppl,

OR just scaring the ever-loving shit out of every teyvat citizen within a mile radius bc oh wow- you look pissed, so yeah somebody’s about to lose all their self-esteem for the rest of their life bc ur insults are known to be extra cutting bc ur so blunt-

OH CREATOR ABOVE (…oh creator, present??)- you changed to your holy language FOR THIS???

everybody just giving the npc the most bombastic side-eye for pushing you to do this,

or even just you stubbing ur toe/ate food when it was too hot

or my favorite, getting onto ppl like Wanderer when they do smth silly lmao

STOP I HAD A FOUL THOUGHT OF GETTING ONTO Ei AND WANDERER (like ei for not keeping him/at least giving him to someone else to raise, then all the shit he did as Scaramouche lol)

AND THIS CUSSWORD COMES OUT UNDER UR BREATH OR SMTH- DOES THIS FIT BC THIS KILLS ME:

“Putain de salope…” (whore of whore, I LIED IT MEANS FUCKING BITCH LMAO😭)

JUST GETTING THE MOM AND THE SON IN ONE FULL BREATH CRYINGGGG

STOPPP wanderer using it against other ppl ever since u used it lol

oh no stop dont bring the kids into thisss 😭😭

Klee would deffo be the first one to pick up ur words and use them, omg she just uses them as catchphrases like when throwing her bombs 💀

“Mange tes mort!” JUST WITH A SMILE ON HER FACE AS SHE THROWS HER HUGE SKILL BOMB INTO A FISH POND

Venti would definitely make sure the winds “pass along phrases of the sacred All-God language!”

which just means anyone who UNDERSTANDS YOU JUST GETS GENTLY CREATIVELY CUSSED OUT BY THE WIND IM SOBBINGGG

☆

i hope u guys are having a great summer! its basically too hot to go outside where I am, not unless ur going straight into the water or smth

which hey, ill be doing that this weekend, floating down the river about an hour away from my house with friends! :]

which,,, if anyone sees this, U GOTTA HELP ME THINK OF A 1000 FOLLOWERS MILESTONE THING TO DO IDK WHAT TO DO BUT I WANNA CELEBRATE IT BC I NEVER THOUGHT THATD HAPPEN!! lmk what u think in the comments if u read this!

☆

Safe Travels 0rah,

💀♒

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi

[biibini]

Hii!! After mizu graduates college, what type of job do you think she'd have? Would it have to do with sports or maybe something way different? (I absolutely love your writing and headcanons !! 🩷🩷)

modern!mizu post-college life headcanons

tags: post-grad life, engineering mizu, stable work life, a woman in stem, moving in with reader, basketball with mizu, mizu join fencing club, peaceful post-grad life (the dream)

a/n: ngl the thought of post-college life is tripping me out,,, im a junior in college rn and the thought of it just kinda doesnt?? exist?? also ive heard too much info from my friends' rants ab their engineering degrees and switching majors from mechanic to electrical back to mechanical engineering,, theyre fucking nuts

modern!mizu would prob be in the engineering sector of jobs

wooo stem baby (i am a digital marketing major i should not be talking)

bc hello?? money???

also let’s use that mechanical engineering degree to good use

she didn’t leave home for nothing

with her technical skills from eiji

modern!mizu would probably be a CAD engineer

CAD aka computer aided design

technically speaking, it would allow her to work from home or hybrid

and she can easily transfer her mechanical and on-hand knowledge to a digital format

like she’s smart yall

she just got some troubles w procrastination

but dont we all?

(coping so hard)

this job would also allow her free time and flexible hours to do her job

and i feel like modern!mizu opts for a good work-life balance

if she wishes, she can take the day off snd just go out with u or go to the gym

the freedom of choice while staying comfortable at home?

sign her tf up

she can have her tea time, gym time, spending time w u time, and her self care time

the self care in question: enjoying the silence

and realistically, its a well paying job thatll keep her and u afloat while helping eiji financially if need be

modern!mizu hopes her work and smarts can help her provide for others and herself

its ab time she doesnt let herself depend on a man for money

yeah thats a fuck u to u, m*k*o

shes made the mistake once

shes not gonna make it again

just bc postgrad modern!mizu isnt in sports doesnt mean she’ll stop playing

she needs to get her exercise and movement some way some form

basketball with taigen

and always aim for the three-pointers

and is successful most of the time

and then proceed to aim for the half court shots

and fail most times

fencing with eiji whenever shes back home

she’ll def try to teach u

and its fun at first but

she wants to stretch her wings out

modern!mizu would prob join a fencing club

it would be a great for her to fully practice and spar

not just against her old man

or go soft w u

but also go against ppl her age

modern!mizu would move into a place w u

nothing grand but a small apartment where u could refresh and build the place to be ur own

ringo is a good friend

a true best friend she could trust

but it was time to move in w u

and not be wary of ringo hearing u when he comes home

modern!mizu would be more adventurous in hobbies

yeah she has basketball and fencing and her tea collection

but now she has a stable job

no need to worry about grades

and just to live life one step at a time

she would probably try out pottery with u

definitely practice her cooking with ringo's and ur help

all in all, a very patient life

(she deserves it)

[choccy-milky]

OKAY HEAR ME OUT CHOCCY SEB GIVES CLORA A SNAKE RING?!?!

Soooooo rereading the fic and I’m back to chapter 33, and it totally popped into my head that they are IN THE VICTORIAN ERA and do ya know what was super popular after the engagement ring that Queen Victoria was given by Prince Albert? A SNAKE RING

AND IF THAT AINT SEB TREATING CLORA LIKE THE QUEEN SHE IS THEN I DONT KNOW WHAT IS 😭💙💚✨

Thank you for coming to my ted talk 🫣😂

LMFAOO YESS TRUST ME, IVE SEEN THIS AFTER DOING MY OWN RESEARCH ABOUT VICTORIAN RINGS, ITS SO PERFECT!! AND THE FACT THAT ITS GREEN TOO LMAO, prince albert was a possessive slytherin confirmed!!🤪 but yea ill DEFS be incorporating a snake into the final design of cloras ring HAHA. i basically HAVE to...yknow, for period accuracy 🥰

WOO YAY im glad i could inspire you to start writing!!!🙏and i get it, writing fanfic is defs self indulgent and for ourselves first and foremost, but obvs nobody wants to release their work into the void😩 as for how my own fic got popular, one of the main things is defs timing. i published the first chap basically within the first week of the game being out (it came out on the 10th and my chap was on the 18th) so it was there right at the peak/start of the fandom. but i also dont wanna attribute it all to timing BAHHA cuz i think im a pretty good writer and that helps....my fic also didnt get popular right away, but i was consistently posting every single week + eventually started adding art every single week, and was just really dedicated to not only writing but also drawing art for it (which is also obvs another huge factor/probs the biggest factor). ive had so many ppl tell me they started reading my fic bc they saw my art on pinterest or something LOL, and some ppl have even read it fandom-blind bc they were into the seb/clora dynamic??? which is another point actually. i always joke about how i love my cliches and good girl+bad boy dynamics, and that im unashamed about loving them LOL, but also...they're cliches for a reason!!! lots of us eat that shit up!!!😤so i think thats defs another factor, vs if my fic was a bit more niche and avant garde LOL the fandom is also (understandably) a lot slower than it was at the beginning of the year so itll be harder in general, but maybe you could commission art to go with your fanfic? ive seen a lot of other HL fanfic writers do it, and i think it defs helps to draw attention! GOOD LUCK and i hope you keep writing!!!🫡💖💖💖🙌

huh??? go with the tide pods instead, THAT shit looks bussin😩😩

AWW TYY😭😭I LOVE THAT HAHAH AND IM GLAD U THINK SO💖💖 my friend also asked me this question after seeing my recent ask, and i STILL have no idea what i would have named it instead LMAOO, thats how bad i am at naming things. even a year later im like bruh idk!!! clora and sebs bizarre adventures??? i guess id probs make it something light/dark themed in retrospect, or something more specific to the ancient magic, but i still have no idea what LOL

[entities-of-posts]

i know this blog takes a lot of inspo from tma, i havent listened to it in a while but i wanted to hear your thoughts on the eye and the fear of being watched in general, if you dont mind! im writing a thing with those themes rn and i thought it might be helpful to ask some other people about what their input was on the matter, since that way i could see how diff ppl thought abt it yknow? sorry if theres any bad english here by the way :p

“Takes a lot of inspo” is a little light, this is in fact a Magnus Archives fanblog, but of course!

Personally, I have always been deeply afraid of being watched. It doesn’t matter how innocent or mundane my actions are, if I expect to be in private, I need that to be true. Something as simple as someone entering my room or looking at my camera roll makes me very anxious. It’s not that I believe I’m being spied on by the government, or anything like that; I just am someone who very much wants to get to choose what I show to others, and the idea that there would be no moment where I could stop performing is haunting.

There is also the fact that I have a lot of awful intrusive thoughts, and the idea that someone might see even into the private sanctuary of my head and get a peek at the horrible things in there makes me nauseous. I am not joking when I say that if I learned someone out there could read minds, my immediate reaction would be to start planning murder. Someone with even the capacity to intrude like this cannot be allowed to exist.

I am also very curious. If I had the opportunity to take for myself the power to violate others’ privacy in exactly the way I get sick thinking of someone doing to me, I would take it in a heartbeat. To get to know anything I want, to get to watch so closely the tapestry of others’ lives, is so alluring to me that morals seem so much less important. In addition to this, the moment something is hidden, even when I know it is hidden because it would upset me to see, it takes Herculean efforts not to look. I think this urge is also part of the fear of the Eye. I need to know. Even when I’m aware that curiosity will kill the cat.

[plsdonttakemyname]

You dont have to feel like you gotta do this, bc i know sm ppl r too out of their comfort zone with it, but would you consider:

Poly!Soukoku? Like Dazai / reader / chuuya?

Fluff HCs?

Ig if you wanted more fun stuff (pls dont do it this is too much!) What do you think would be a good ability for an S/O of them to have?? :0

I have this one idea where their just a sort of puppet master and have strings that they can latch onto ppl and physically move them around, or even mess with memories (the non-passionate/deep seated ones) bc i thought Dazai would like the different ways it could be applied, and Chuuya would think it's badass to watch you just, lower the glowing strings coming out of fingertips attached to like a group of armed enemies and they just like, drop their guns and bow.

Feel free to have fun with this however you want, or delete the request if its too much!

Also the ability i talked abt doesnt have to be readers ability, and these could just be chill headcanons abt their relationship! Whatever works!

Hope youre having a great weekend so far, and I really like your writing!!

Cheers,

Poly Anon ☢️

Poly!Soukoku X G!n Reader

— — — — — — — —

A/n; Hi Anon! Tysm I really appreciate it! I'm glad you like my writing! I hope you're having a great weekend so far too :D

— — — — — — — —

Genre; Fluff, Hcs

Pairings; Chuuya X Dazai X Reader

Warnings; Mentions of Suicide(Dazai), my bad writing, Might has some grammar mistakes 😭

Now how do I start with this chaotic relationship...

Chuuya would try to kill Dazai from time to time and you have to be there to stop them because of it 😭

I feel like s/o would toy with their opponents with the use of their ability

Mori had assigned you three on another mission together even though one was already enough since the three of you were strong enough but who knows why he assigned you three on a mission like this

Chuuya would be surprised and amazed at the same time when he first saw your ability with his own eyes, sure he has heard about this ability before but he’s never actually seen it for himself before.

Chuuya thinks that his s/o is so badass when they puppet the enemies, making them bow down and drop all of the weapons carried to the battle.

Dazai on the other hand would not really get surprised since this is his first time actually seeing this ability with his own eyes and not hearing it from some stupid book, but he still knew from the beginning

But when the three of you are all bored and out of missions to carry out, you'll all hangout in a bar to spend some time with each other

It's either one of yall ended up drunk OR you all ended up drunk and passed out in the bar 😭

The three of you will always go out to the mall or on expensive dinner dates

You all share the same apartment and that's where things are starting to get really wild

When getting into bed, there is never peace...The three of you would be kicking each other off the bed and slapping each other in the middle of the night 💔

"GODDAMN CHUUYA STOP KICKING ME" *SNORES*

Chuuya Is the kicker,Dazai is the pusher and you're the one that's suffering 😢

Just imagine this, suddenly you woke up at an ungodly hour because you felt a hand slapping your face just to find out it was Dazai slapping you in his sleep and Chuuya is almost on the floor still dead asleep after a long day in the Port Mafia.

You had enough one night and decided to kick them both off the bed and acted as if you're still asleep 😭

It's legit 4am and suddenly you just kick them off the bed "OW" "what...the..fuck..." *Y/n fake snoring noises*

Besides that when it's really peaceful it's either they're both on a long mission or they're ACTUALLY not kicking or pushing each other off the bed.

The three of you likes to cuddle and fall asleep in each other's warmth

"Will you,Y/N L/n, Come double suicide with me?" "no." "OI MACKEREL IF YOU WANNA DIE I CAN KILL YOU NOW STOP ASKING Y/N TO SUICIDE WITH YOU JACKASS" "YOU HURT MY FEELINGS CHIBI.." while you're just busy typing up a report and also trying to calm down

When one of you are on a mission alone you all definitely give each other a goodbye and goodluck kiss before heading out

Besides all of those chaotic stuff happening in your relationship, You all are an unbreakable trio

— — — — — — — — —

That's all I hope you like it </3

[nerves-nebula]

I fucking adore your comic panelling, any advice on how to do it? Like specific ratios or ways to divide the page?

god there's so much advice i COULD give but i really dont wanna end up writing a book here. so I guess I'll say this: however you divide the page you should be CONSISTENT with it, i literally just learned/internalized this but it's made comic paneling soo much easier. when you break that consistency it will be more impactful. hold up lemme grab some pages.

so i recently started making loose stitches a 4 tier comic. it's not the exact same for each page cuz i'm lazy but i think it's made legibility way better. before i think it was kinda uhhhhh a little all over the place. not BAD but a little difficult to tell where your eyes supposed to go sometimes. which isnt great for a commic.

the page on the left in particular has always bothered me cuz i always read the top panels incorrectly and it's like. fuck man what is the paneling here why is it in two columns ????? that's so hard to understand. but the page on the right can be more or less easily understood (by someone who knows how to read comics) even without panel borders because it's just a simple 4 panel square.

one thing my comic professor really stressed was that he didn't like weird paneling or weird borders. for the most part, a square is fine. AND HE'S RIGHT. weird paneling is fun and cool but should be used sparingly or with intention, cuz if you do it too much then like. how tf are ppl gonna read your comic.

that being said there are a lot of cool ways to cut up panels even if they're just squares hold on lemme grab some examples

so the panels here are all square but the image in the one at the bottom is almost like a mural. one thing i really like to using is a lot of heavy BLACK, what can i say silhouette's have my entire heart.

in my fable comic, I used a 3 tier system. it wasn't the same exact size across all pages but all pages had 3 tiers of paneling. that way i can be a little more flexible with the SIZE of the panels to emphasize the more important things, without it feeling like it's all over the place

meanwhile in my comic final i used a 4 tier system where each tier was nearly the same across every page, but you can collapse tiers together for establishing shots and big reveals so that they're more impactful. it's still fully within the grid system I set up so it doesn't feel like it's messing with shit either.

ok i just spent a lot of time rambling about this one particular concept and it's probably not even what you wanted to hear about :') i didnt even go into ratios or anythinggg guhhhh sowwy

other than all that i'd just say you gotta keep looking at what comic artists have written and take note of how they use space and cut things up. there's this book called How To Read Nancy and it has all these exercises for understanding the building blocks of nancy. for real the author is OBSESSIVE and goes through everything of a 3 panel nancy strip from body language to spot blacks to the minutia of the background. we used this book in my class and did some of the exercises in the back and i think it's really good at getting you to THINK about what you're drawing. and you can easily pirate it if you're broke.

also try to make sure things dont get stagnant on a page. zoom out if you're only doing close ups (i try to make sure every page of loose stitches has at least one full body shot even tho I'm lazy and wanna just do talking heads- talking heads arent interesting!!)

also, take advantage of the fact you're drawing a COMIC. you can do shit in comics that you can't do in other mediums, try to implement them when u can! ALSO PRACTICE. you're not gonna get better just by reading and watching. you gotta do it lol. ok ok that's enough and you didn't even ask for that stuff you asked about PANELING sfdasfsd byeee

[lilcowzia]

You sound so appropriately adorable and spoiled calling walking and going out an adventure :) curious if you could give some insight what some of these adventures entail? The movies, for example. I’m curious the snacks you get, what you watch, how it feels to be in public, and of course - how the seats are! :)

i dont always get snacks at the movies! if i do its usually popcorn to share with my bf. i like candy too but honestly by the time i get to the concession stand, im usually tired from all the walking and standing in line and just want to make my way to my seat so i can rest. im realizing right as im writing this that i should probably just tell my bf what i want and go sit down, im just not very good at planning 😖 and its hard to think when youre tired yanno? i dont feel very much about being in public in the movies, i notice that people try to give me a wide berth when im making my way to my seat so that i dont have to squeeze by, i think im visually large enough that they know i they have to, for their sake. by the time i make it to my seat im always panting, and i do feel self conscious abt that since im sure other ppl can hear lolol the seats are, um. a tight fit. i can only go to theaters with the larger refurbished chairs that recline and stuff, the luxe ones, but theyre still too small lol my hips end up pushing the buttons on the side that make it recline, so sometimes throughout the movie they'll activate accidentally (embarrassing!), but its not super frequent, and despite this its still pretty comfortable thankfully. i love going to the movies so i hope i can squeeze in for awhile longer and eventually get a wide enough wheelchair and attend comfortably that way uwu the last time i went to the movies me and my feeder saw Poor Things and it was amazing ^o^

[cravingpepsimax]

HI i am also an autistic nerd that loves critique and i agree w/ u. but i feel like i also get why ppl get defensive about it. a lot of proshippers have been unfairly critiqued for what they write, and struggle to separate that from well-intended, well-thought out critique. also rsd makes ppl's kneejerk reactions (often defensiveness) come out

but the thing is, if you disagree with someone's critique and dont want to engage with it, you can also just scroll past. you have to understand that other people like to see opinions that differ from their own. as long as they aren't butting into someone else's blog or fic to criticize it, ppl can discuss negative opinions, bc that is fun for a lot of people.

i have rsd so i also have a knee-jerk reaction to critique, but i also think that seeing opinions that differ from mine make me a better writer! in the right headspace, i can digest someone's negative feedback and apply others' opinions to my own work. i can understand that different people can interpret a character differently based on their lived experiences and what resonates with them. and, most importantly, none of those interpretations are necessarily right or wrong. you can like or dislike it, or personally believe that it's poor characterization, but there is no objective right or wrong. thats the thing about art - there is nothing objective about it. people inevitably interact with it in a different way. and sometimes, that way is by seeing it as a whole and picking out what you like and dislike about it.

i feel like the less confidence you have in your own work, the more likely you are to react with offense or dismay. when you rely on other people's positive feedback to want to write, negative feedback feels like the end of the world. i can say that bc i used to be like that, before i started drawing/writing for myself instead of other people. wanting positive feedback isn't bad, per se, but being unable to function without it isn't healthy or sustainable in the long run.

so, yeah. it isn't a personal attack for someone to dislike a characterization that you like - it just doesn't jive with them, and that's okay. and theyre allowed to talk about it, because negative opinions are allowed to be expressed too. if you cant handle seeing those opinions, it isnt a personal failure. it isn't your fault, but it also isnt their fault for having those opinions. they arent trying to hurt you. they just want to freely discuss their opinions, positive or negative, and i would think proshippers/profic ppl should be able to connect with that, even if they are used to being targeted by bullies. sometimes, seeing a post, even a tactically worded one, will make you feel bad, and it isnt anyone's fault. there is no ill intent. life happens. people discuss what interests them. sometimes, you won't like that, and thats fine. but you shouldn't make them out to be the bad guy for it.

and ik fandom is a lot of people's safe space where positivity trumps all, but it isnt like that for a lot of people. if you want fandom to be your protective bubble, you can restrict yourself to only those who share your opinions. but you also have the right to agree to disagree, and other people have the right not to want an echo chamber. if you treat a whole sphere of the internet like your own personal bubble, you will be sorely disappointed when it pops.

woof that was long... i really am not trying to start shit with anyone - that is the last thing i want to do 😭 but i wanted to share my opinion on this bc i am a critic at heart and that is not necessarily a bad thing

i agree with all of this!!!

"toxic positivity" is an overused term, but i think its use here is justified. i've also got rsd, and sometimes, receiving critique can feel really bad, too. my dad's a writer, and i always feel scared to show him my work bc i rlly respect him and hearing him criticize my stuff can rlly hurt LMAO

but. like. i recognize that as an issue. and i certainly don't get offended when i see people criticize a trope? i didn't make that. in fact, i find critique of tropes more helpful than anything -- they provide a perspective that i might've never considered that i can now add to my own works.

the emotions of proship discourse only amplify this -- i'm critiquing depictions of fictional rape. it doesn't matter that i'm not calling people or the fiction itself evil, it doesn't matter that my critiques come from a place of actual fiction analysis instead of a bizarre appeal to emotion -- i'm critiquing depictions of fictional rape. antis do that. i'm doing an anti thing. doesn't matter that the anti thing i'm doing doesn't have all the shit that makes the real anti thing bad.

i do think this toxic positivity is one of the main reasons antis have become such a problem recently, though. antis don't really care about the harm of proshippers, they think it's gross icky bad. but they can't just say it's gross icky bad. you can't express dislike!! that's being mean!!!!! you can ONLY express dislike for morally bad things!!!!!!!! so, they come up with moral reasons that don't actually exist.

people can dislike things. they can express that dislike without going "that's just my opinion tho!!!" a million times to avoid people going "shhh let people enjoy things". they can express that dislike without going "and that's why liking this makes you the devil".

[possibilistfanfiction]

i really love your series so far, you’re an incredible writer!! i would be interested in hearing more about your thoughts/headcanons on vi’s own gender journey. the little glimpse we saw in that one prompt (of the person with the crush) was real neat :D

hmm well i like to let them live in the relative utopia of ppl just getting to be whatever their genders are without angst bc why tf not rn! lol

so i guess in that respect (which does fit with canon in the show even tho -- bc -- it's never discussed) i think vi is just born butch & continues on that train forever lol. personally i think of being butch or being a dyke as its own gender identity (obviously i did not create this; historically it has been its own gender id) & so for vi it's less abt cis or trans or non-binary etc & more of like what's comfortable, what's fun, what's easy. & bc her parents & vander & jinx literally do not care at all, she just gets to make those choices which lean masc without any drama. (all of their energy is devoted to kid vi rly punching things a lot)

as she grows up idk. i think her time in prison she wasn't pondering gender a whole lot, & then after that her life rly opens up! if she were to get top surgery i feel like that would fit & maybe she'd get it a year or so out of prison when she feels she's proved herself as a firefighter enough to feel comfortable taking a break to have it, everything there is supportive obviously. but also i can see her also not rly feeling dysphoric or caring a whole lot & just wearing sports bras without any issue, maybe a binder or two if she's dressing up. the nice thing is that like at least w my fics if u want either one -- whatever feels most affirming -- u can kind of just imagine that!

i dont think jinx has a firm grasp on gender either, mostly in that she doesn't care lol. i don't think either one of them default to assuming other ppl are cis either. but for vi yah it's more about comfort: she's always kind of known she was a dyke in every way, even when she didn't have language for it, & so she just gets to make choices that bring a sense of ease without having to even think about them. it's nice to write like that bc lmao i at the v least do not live in that world at large, but in pockets of community i do, & it's cool to imagine those pockets extending everywhere (or at least like... dating, family, work). & obviously cait is supportive of everything bc she loves vi & also she's so hot so that's that.

(jinx definitely makes fun of vi's fashion sometimes but it's only bc a) she's her little sister it's her god given right & duty; b) on occasion vi rly wears the most boring sad outfits & jinx must rectify)

so idk not a definitive answer bc i guess just like... being butch to me isn't a difficult 'what's cis abt me! what's trans abt me!' but instead just a holistic identity to itself w aspects of both, neither, etc. & if vi can just be that without issue then why not!

[prettyboykatsuki]

Fang I was just reading your recent posts about Shidou and it calls out the things that make me like your writing so much👏👏 Like there’s a vibe in a lot of self-ship/reader insert fanfiction where the writer sees the character, likes the character, but chooses to ignore the parts of the character that make them complicated or even unlikeable . And that’s fine honestly! It’s fanfic it’s not that serious, as long as you’re not an asshole to other people go off and ignore every shitty thing your unproblematic fav does akrbjwnfnnd

The thing that I love about my favorite fanfic writers, particularly you, is your characterization! It always feels like you love characters along with their flaws and eccentricities, if not for them. And I fee that!! I love Gojo because he sucks and is immature and also loving and secretly considerate and carries the world on his shoulders. I feel like you feel that consideration with every character that you write. You do your best to understand them, even if it’s the insane shit like Shidou where he thinks of soccer as breeding and would probably carry that over into his relationships where he’s sweet but pushy and weird and loving anbrjwjfbns

I do wonder if some people don’t want to admit that they like these characters with their weirdness and off-putting characteristics as well, but that’s just a thought. It’s understandable that someone would imagine the best and most loving situation for themself, I just know personally I like my little freaks with their freak intact sjhdjajfnjanfn and that’s part of why I always come back to your work🙇‍♂️🙇‍♂️

Long rambling over and my final point is just thank you for your writing and for sharing it with us anfbjabfbbanf╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

- times

this ask is so nice i dont know how to respond to it oughsdjsjdlsd.

i do know what u mean!! though i would never want to sound like. idk. lmao conceited. ppl are free to write characters in anyway and no characterization has more merit then another since a lot of things ultimately come down to personal lenses. but . For Me Personally

i do think it is a bit of a shame to erase like. one aspect of a characters that's less palatable for another that's more. it feels like a waste of what's usually something that adds to a character more then takes away. a lot of people use fic solely as escapism though so i understand wanting to focus on one aspect of a character but idk.

stories are like. largely character driven. a story is told by the character in it. like yes there's a lot you can do with worldbuilding and a lot to do with other aspects of the story but your world is often a reaction to your characters. something needs to move the setting yk... so i try to do my best to write them in a way that feels balanced. i dont know if its that people don't accept it i think ppl are just not as interested in it when they're viewing it from sole escapism.

i can acknowledge first i take writing and mid manga more seriously than necessary which is why i would never toot my own horn about it KJSDJKD. but i also try hard at it bc of that so it feels very good to hear that it comes through in some way at least sometimes.

ANYWAY IT MEANS A LOT.... THANK YU.....

[velvetvexations]

hello back again one more time i hope u dont mind me rambling <3 i hope other anon doesnt think i was yelling at them or anything, i feel like when im passionate about something i come across as angry ToT i think ultimately the language we use ("nonbinary" and "binary"... and "privilege" too to a degree!) is kind of clumsy. bc nonbinary transition encompasses a broad range of gender transition, including those that may look identical to a "binary" transition. this describes many of my friends, in fact; almost everyone i know is genderqueer (and otherwise gender nonconforming!), but it is only myself and one other person who are specifically unaligned (using that in the broadest sense possible bc i actually do consider myself "aligned" but this word gets across the best what my transition looks like rn). exorsexism looks extremely different on my transmasc-and-adjacent and my transfem-and-adjacent genderqueer friends than it does on me... if i were to split up my experience with transphobia into pieces, i would say i suffer most greatly from garden-variety misogyny, cissexism (as in, the assumption that everyone is cis by default), and exorsexism (as in, the assumption that gender is strictly binary and the urge to slot me into the Obvious Sex I Must Belong To). in comparison, my friend, despite not personally iding as transfem, experiences a lot of overt transmisogyny in their day to day, and a lot of exorsexism from within our immediate trans community. we both experience exorsexism in very different ways. in her case, the exorsexism he experiences acts in addition to the transmisogyny. it's... additive, but not subtractive. does that make sense? my friend group being largely genderqueer and specifically genderqueer in pretty different ways than me is a big reason i dont think binary privilege is a real concrete thing. we could easily claim binary privilege is real bc in extremely specific circumstances, binary trans ppl are treated better than us. but that's just not what "privilege" is to me, and the line between "binary transsexuality" and "nobinary transsexuality" is itself pretty blurry. and i think it alienates people that have more in common with us than different. but i also get it bc i grew up nonbinary during the big truscum discourse so often i felt like binary trans people alienated me first and it took me a really long time to like. unlearn that sense of. "binary trans people will never understand me and the problems i live with, they'll always mock and degrade me for being nonbinary." which at the time made me agree with the sentiment "binary privilege exists" (sorry again for rambling i just am REALLY PASSIONATE abt exorsexism !!! im writing an essay about transmed ideology in the broader trans community rn and this is a big part of it)

all that to say that it's obviously a point of contention between nonbinary ppl lol and i think you can either call it binary privilege or something else or say "i dont think that exists" and in each scenario be a good ally to nonbinary people. and i think you are already there just by saying "i want to hear what nonbinary people have to say"

I love and appreciate your engagement, anon. <3

[emily-mooon]

NORDEGRIM HEADCANONS

I need to get my many thoughts for them sorted out so here’s one big post for those many random thoughts!

- They are both very good listeners and will listen to the other talk for hours on end about their day and their interests

- Stacey and Neil will play video games together and almost always Neil will win much to Stacey’s chagrin. She will then proceed to throw the controller (it’s canon that she’s a sore loser w/ video games)

- Stacey’s the big spoon while Neil’s the little spoon (despite the fact that hes taller than her)

- Stacey does all of the talking. She will tell the cashier at McDonald’s that Neil asked for no pickles

- Neil fell first, Stacey fell harder*

- Stacey will steal some of Neil’s shirts. He doesn’t mind (though the comic panel one is iffy territory as that’s his favourite)

- I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, they will share bracelets and make their own together

- if they get married they DONT have kids. I just can’t see them having any (same goes for like every other SP character tbh)

-In their first year of uni, they shared a creative writing class. It was a big class so that’s why they didn’t know each other before volume 6 (despite being in the same room way before that)

- I imagine in SPTO Scott’s future (not the one we see where he didn’t change and was going through divorce) that old Stacey and old Neil are like newlyweds and are the most insufferable people to be around. After they get married they are in the honeymoon phase forever

- Stacey is a power bottom argue with my brick wall. She’s a bottom but Neil is even more of a bottom than her

-Neil works part time at an EB games near Second Cup so before they started dating he would stop by before his shift and get like a coffee and hope that Stacey would be there. After they started dating if their shift times line up they will commute to work together

- Stacey got Neil into her 60s rock music. He will randomly hum ‘I’m A Believer’ by The Monkees and get annoyed when some asks if that’s smashmouth he’s humming to (that song I mentioned is a nordegrim song to me)

- SPTO Neil turned Stacey into a cinephile so now they are both talking about the movie Crash

- DORKS IN LOVE IS THEIR CAPITAL D DYNAMIC

- they hold hands a lot :3

- they propose to each other at the same time

- Stacey has cold hands, Neil has warm hands

-they cuddle no matter how hot it is

* the trope of “A fell first, B fell harder” is misunderstood a lot. It doesn’t mean that B loves A more than A loves B, it means that A slowly fell in love with B while B had a moment with A that made them realize how much they loved A. That’s just how I’ve seen it described and I’ve been in fandoms where ppl have misunderstood the trope sm that I just wanted to make this fact as clear as I could.

And that it!

Feel free to share some of your own headcanons if you have any with me cause I would love to hear them! Make a comment on this post or send me an ask and I’ll do my best to answer them as fast as I can :]

Oh and also:

Hope you enjoyed my little headcanons!

[multiplicity-positivity]

hi uh i could use some advice :<

im a host of a recent system of 20-ish and guh i am t i r e d

im mainly looking for advice on how to switch or just retreat into the headspace/leave front or even just kinda stop being fully aware while still being in front for awhile bc id rlly like to take a break and the realization that im most likely front attracted/frontstuck is kinda making me more tired of being in front

also if it helps at all my(&) system is parogenic + traumagenic in origin (specifically parotraumagenic) and theres kinda iffy communication between members (some of them i have clear communication with and they randomly pop up to say stuff, some i have no idea where they are and some of them i can usually only hear when im directly interacting with them).

afaik (as far as i know) only three?? ppl have rlly "fronted" per se, and the rest have been co-con

i apologize for the long and mildly depressing ask but any help is appreciated also dont forget to hydrate

Hello! We have some posts that might help you that we’d like to share if that’s okay. The first is a post we wrote a while back with some tips on switching from our own experience:

We’d also like to share this post by @rin-and-jade on being frontstuck or frontlocked, and how to go about unsticking yourself!

Our own system host (Parker) is almost always fronting to some extent. It can certainly be exhausting and disheartening fronting nonstop, especially when other members of your system can seemingly come and go as they please. He’s going to put some info under a cut for how he copes with fronting constantly, in case you want some advice on coping with being genuinely unable to switch out!

We hope something here will be helpful for you! We’re wishing you the best of luck with switching out or at least learning how best to cope with fronting in your future!

(Host here - I’ll just write this bit if thats okay. Anyway here’s some stuff I do to deal with The Horrors of perpetual existence)

Meditation

Taking a few moments to sit in comfortable silence can be useful for me when I’m feeling stressed or overwhelmed or straight up exhausted. Here’s how I meditate (I’m no expert and I’m sure there’s better ways to do this… this is just what I do)

- get in a comfortable position in a quiet place where I’m not likely to be disturbed

- set a timer on my phone for 5 minutes

- close my eyes, focus on my breathing

- don’t dwell on any thoughts but also don’t push them away; acknowledge them and let them go

- try to stay still and calm until my timer goes off

And that’s it. Sometimes I get interrupted by an alter or something outside, but for the most part, this is how I’ve been able to meditate effectively.

Rest

I take naps whenever I can. I sit down whenever I can. I’ll literally just close my eyes for a few minutes whenever I can. Our body has issues with chronic fatigue, and fronting constantly can sometimes exacerbate our exhaustion. So yeah I am a huge fan of naps and will often set a timer for like 15-20 minutes and snooze whenever the opportunity arises. Even just lying down with closed eyes can help replenish some energy.

Distractions

Reading, watching something on TV, or playing video games can help give me somewhat of a break even if I’m still fronting. I do tend to try and keep us distracted as much as possible… sometimes to our own detriment. But if you find that you really aren’t ever able to switch out, or if your system is specutien and that’s just the way your system functions, finding things you enjoy that can serve as distractions may help you as well.

Saying No

This one’s tough, but I’m trying to learn to say no when I’m overwhelmed or have too much on my plate. This means sometimes I’ll cancel plans, hand off a responsibility, make a compromise, or turn down an opportunity if I don’t have the energy for it.

Honestly idk how much my addition can help you, but if you find that you’re not ever able to switch out at all please know there’s other folks out there in similar positions. Hoping you can make the most of your situation, anon /genuine

[justbelievinginmagic]

Like a Waltz is top 3 best series I've read in my life. The progression of the story is not rushed, the time period is portrayed realistically, the sad reality of women and girls in establishments like that brings awareness to how easily a girl can be trapped in such an industry, and the general concept of it? Like not the organized crime thing, but a ballerina x rich guys pairing? Original af, never seen this twist in the mafia genre before, most ppl go for rich man's heir x mafia/ drug lord guy or poor in debt person x gang member, which I also love, but that's what makes yours so refreshing. Can't wait to see what's next in the series! Please don't feel pressured to update fast, good things take time! Love u byeeeee

oh my gosh this is such a sweet ask!! like im so so flattered! I'm so happy you are enjoying it and liking the realism!! I always try to portray things as real as possible (even if the situation is fantastical, i want the characters to feel real and to try to have you, the reader, feel their emotions.

im so happy you think the time period is portrayed realistically. ive always played by the rule of cool so if there is something that would be interesting to incorporate but it might not be early 1900s authentic (like sneak peek, i know the cars im imagining for like a waltz are way more 1960s than 1920s. theyre more reflective of the cars in the mv or like in the godfather. i like the idea of sleek cars rather than motorcars lol) i hope you guys understand. BUT with that said, i do try to keep it as authentic as i can. i love world building. i love the idea of their town being in between industrializing and the past like how some parts have electricity and other places still utilize candles. its really fun to imagine.

and i do really want to highlight the weird time of ballerinas bc its so sad. these women and men who literally work themselves and starve themselves often were objectified and seen as lowly when their work, the opera/ballet, was seen as high class and royal-ish. its just so strange and sad. ive done some research to make sure what im saying is real-ish, but most of my info does come from stories about degas and his ballerina works from art history courses. i know i dont go too into it but i hope the surface i do scratch is enough to paint a picture of their realities.

and im happy you like the concept!! the mv really inspired it like i cant say it any other way. if they didnt have ballerinas in the mv i wouldnt have thought about the mafia x ballerina pair. i think its fun bc as some ppl have noted in comments woosan and the others are utilizing the ballet as a way to observe the upperclass and best set their deals up to control the town. i hope that isnt too spoilery lol like they do control this town theyre the mafia boys. im glad that you enjoy the dynamic though! itll be fun as it develops more bc it'll become more complicated when it comes to the ballet, power, love, and control!

im excited to write more even if im not feeling super confident with the next chapter yet!! ive gotten 14k written of the next chapter already and i still havent fully developed the climax scene of the chapter so itll hopefully be worth the wait, word count wise!

thank you again for this thoughtful comment and for listening to my rambles lol. these comments really inspire me to write!! i love hearing what people like about my writing so i can hopefully incorporate more or add in little scenes inspired by their predictions hehe.