#i hate them i hate whoever wrote this stupid show | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

leeknowsnot · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober — the god of love (minho)

genre: smut (minors dni), fluff

content: minho x reader, god of love minho au, reader is a hopeless romantic because i am too, greek god themes, he is eros the god of love, modernized greek gods, body worship, vanilla, just pure love, mature themes, mention of p-rn

oh my god, this is my first smut on this page. i hope i did okay though, it's been a long while since i wrote smut. anyway, i'll try starting on the others soon! read at your own risk

kinktober masterlist

Piles of paperwork laid before him. His eyes scrutinized every paper, dreading the sight of the amount of work he'd have to do. What was he doing here anyway? Right. He was called in for some extra work because the amount of stuff that the employees under him had to do was overwhelming.

Piles and piles of paperwork. "Over what?" his colleague would ask him and he would roll his eyes.

"Some dumbass woman who can't stop falling in love and getting heartbroken over every goddamn man," he would complain.

For Minho, being the God of Love wasn't all arrows and rainbows. Oh look, a girl crushing on a guy. Let's shoot an arrow to his chest so he could fall in love with her too! No. He wasn't highschool cupid. It wasn't as easy as that, unlike what most people would actually think. If he was going to be honest, there wasn't much field work to begin with. The only field work he'd do is to sit on his chair, observing people as they fall in love with each other, only to deal with multiple paperwork as soon as couples start falling out and breaking up with each other. He hated how people treated love as if it was something so dispensable. Like a one-time thing. Well, mostly because it gave him so much work to deal with.

And you, on the other hand, was one of those types that he hated the most: a hopeless romantic. He never really believed in hoping for love despite being the God of Love himself. Stop falling in love multiple times in a year. He always wanted to drill that into your brain each time he'd come down from HQ to observe you and your stupid attempts at pursuing whoever you were onto at the moment. He would lie if he said he never cringed everytime you'd blush at the smallest things. He was annoyed at how you always fell so hard over the bare minimum.

He types away angrily at his keyboard, cursing under his breath. "12th time this fucking year. I swear, if that shithead falls in love with the wrong guy again, I'm gonna shoot myself."

His fingers stop typing, eyes staring into the screen as his eyebrows rest on a permanent scowl on his face. He stared at your image through the documents, analyzing every feature on your face. He wouldn't deny the fact that you were attractive in a way, which made him wonder for a moment why you'd always fail at your attempts on finding love.

Minho sighs, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose before he stands up from his seat. "Better pay her a short visit. I need some amusement after all that headache she's been giving me," he mutters to himself.

...

Minho sat there, eyebrows raised. You weren't the type to wear revealing dresses and yet here you were, a scissor away from being practically naked. Okay, maybe he was exaggerating since you only opted to expose your shoulders but you never really showed much skin before. Each time Minho would drop by secretly to observe you during your dates to see if they'd finally succeed, you were either wearing cute floral dresses, or anything that was wholesome. But then again, he had to remind himself where he had to go just to check on you.

A nightclub.

In all honesty, some shoulderless blouse was just the tip of the iceberg compared to how the others dressed. Some were practically naked but Minho didn't pay much attention to them. His eyes were focused on eyeing you at the other side of the room, through grinding bodies.

Though, his gaze on your faltered as soon as a woman sat beside him, brushing her arm on his that was rested on top of the counter. "Hey there, pretty boy," the woman winked at him.

Minho wanted to puke then and there and his expression said it all. He eyed the woman from head to toe, immediately disgusted at her mere presence. He brought his eyes back to you but as soon as he did so, he saw you swaying by the dancefloor with some guy.

Now, Minho wasn't the type to be fazed by such a sight, but the way the man roamed his hands around your torso and attempted to grind his hips towards yours slightly annoyed Minho. Especially with how your face would contort and twitch in discomfort. You were trying your best to hide it and make light of the situation but Minho knew better than to not notice.

He stood up from his seat, tossing all reasoning aside and decided to pull you out of whatever shit you had gotten yourself into just so you could get yourself a lover. "To hell with that," he thought. You were looking for love at the wrong place. The worst place, in fact.

As soon as he arrived at your spot, he grabbed your wrist, earning a surprised yelp from you. He didn't look at you but at the man who was already 5 seconds away from zipping off his pants. Minho was glaring. "Keep your hands and your dick to yourself, yeah?" he tells off the man, earning himself a drunk response but all noise had been shut out and the fucks he could give was thrown out the window the moment he turned to you. "What were you trying to get yourself into, you idiot?"

Minho forgot that he was the only one who knew you like the back of his hand at this point. He was basically a stranger to you. But as he looked into your eyes, you lost yourself in them. His voice came out as muffled due to the trance you were in from the alcohol you just had earlier. And Minho noticed this so he snapped into your face but to no avail.

He dragged you out of the club and you could swear the door that was supposed to lead outside the streets led to somewhere else when Minho opened it but you decided that it was your mind and the alcohol playing its tricks on you. Minho brought you to his office through the club's door—an ability that always proved to be handy. He made you sit on his couch, giving you a glass of water.

"Drink that. It'll help with the hangover," he says. He never had hangover before since human liquor never really had much of an effect for him and the other Gods but he saw how bad humans had it each time they'd have hangovers. "How many glasses did you have anyway," he mumbles under his breath, not particularly expecting you to hear or respond.

His hand bring itself up to your face as he holds a towel, wiping off your sweat. "You suck at taking care of yourself. You always put those idiots first before yourself, that's why you're always getting rejected," he mumbles again, an annoyed expression now on his face. However, his expression turns into confusion as soon as he sees you squint your eyes at him.

"You... look familiar," you say, a hiccup following your sentence as you try your best to dig your memories through your drunken stupor.

Minho shakes his head. "Don't be ridiculous. No one looks like me," he says but you suck air between your teeth.

"No, I swear I've seen you somewhere," you dazingly tapped on your temple before your eyes widen in realization and you point at him. "Oh, I remember now! I see you a lot of times whenever I..." you trail off your sentence. You gasp. "You're always around whenever I meet guys for dates! Are you perhaps, my stalker?"

This earned you a light slap on the forehead from Minho.

"You didn't have to hit my head!" you pouted at him.

"Stop pouting, you look ugly," he says as he removes your shoes. "I wasn't stalking you."

You squint your eyes again at him. Both at his answer and as to why he was removing your shoes. "Then what were you doing? And what are you doing?"

Minho glances up at you with a look of disbelief. "Removing your shoes, if that's not obvious enough," he turns back to removing your other shoe. "I thought you were dumb only with love. You're dumb with telling actions too."

You frown, "Why are you even removing my shoes?! Put them back on??"

"For the record, you are not Cinderella. And you'd rather I let you get blisters? Why did you even wear heels? You never wore heels," he whispers the last part. You blink.

"You are my stalker," you gasp, earning another glare from Minho.

As he finished removing your shoes, he plops himself back down beside you. "I was observing you," he says, answering your question.

"Yeah, you were stalking me," you butt in.

"Stalking is different from observing. Get your facts right," he argues back.

'This man,' you thought to yourself as you look at him in disbelief. Though despite his sarcastic remarks, you could feel as if you knew him for a long time already. Or maybe because you'd see him a lot everywhere. You always thought it was coincidence.

"Why were you observing me?" you ask him.

Minho sighs, rubbing his face with a hand as he looks at you, probably being annoyed at how much you were asking him. "Entertainment. Your idiocy amuses me," he sarcastically replies.

You were speechless.

First, this man ruins your date. Your chances of getting laid tonight. You didn't mind if it was drunk sex, as long as it was sex, that was how hopeless you were. Second, he denies being your stalker. Third, he was mocking your poor taste in men and bad luck in love. And lastly, he was telling you that you were basically a no go because you were an idiot.

"I can't believe this," you scoff under your breath. "You ruined my chances for... this."

Minho raises an eyebrow at you. "Chances at what."

You roll your eyes at him. "Getting laid."

Minho stares at you for a while before sighing. You were such a piece of work. On second thought, he'd rather deal with paperwork than your attitude. He shakes his head in hopelessness, eyes still at you.

"You were going to settle with drunk sex?" he asked with a tone of as-a-matter-of-fact. When you nodded, he chuckled in disbelief.

"Well, what do you want me to do then?" you snapped your head at him. "I always fail at romance. I try to establish wholesome relationships but they... They just fail. And this..." you pause. "It may not be the best option, but it's my only chance of actually getting a guy."

Minho was amused at how emotional you were getting. He could see the tears forming in your eyes as you explain. Sure, Minho was getting frustrated over this ordeal, but you were too and he just realized that. If he was getting annoyed over paperwork, then it meant people were hurting too. You were hurting too.

For some reason, Minho disliked that idea. For the longest time, he'd see the brightest smiles on your face each time you fell in love or experienced something akin to love. He thought it was only for work that he'd come down to observe you each time you go on dates. But in truth, he liked seeing you smile. He didn't know how or when it started. He just... liked to see your face brighten up.

Maybe he wasn't annoyed at you because you always fell in love and get broken and give him more paperwork. Maybe he was annoyed at the fact that people kept on hurting you. He was annoyed at the fact that guys always took advantage of your love. He was annoyed at the fact that you always gave it your all to guys who didn't deserve any of your love. He was annoyed at himself for seeing it otherwise.

Minho chuckles, more at himself than at you. "That's such a sad excuse to find love, it's pathetic."

You turned your head towards him, about to retort but you shut yourself up as soon as he brought his face close to yours. Your eyes widened. "What—"

"You're pathetic," he mumbles. "I can't believe you're going to settle with just that." Then, he closes the gap between you two. His lips touched yours momentarily, brushing like a feather before diving deep. For a second, it was as if your world stopped. You may have had failed attempts at love but that doesn't mean you never had kisses. Though, most of them were empty. In fact, you've had too many kisses to the point that you had to think to yourself if you'll only get kisses for the rest of your life.

But this. This was... You couldn't put the right words. No, that was the perfect word for it. Right. It felt so... right.

The kiss felt too short as soon as he pulled away, eyes staring into yours. You could swear you could see the whole universe in them. You barely talked to this man for more than an hour and yet you feel like you've known him forever.

Minho's eyes trail from your eyes to your lips. He has always seen you. How you look. How you dressed. How you spoke. But he has never seen you this close. And now that he has, it was as if he was looking at Zeus' finest piece of art. Your beauty held more charm than Aphrodite herself. Hell, you'd start more wars than Helen of Troy ever did with that pretty little face of yours.

He parts his lips, his warm breath adding fuel to the warmth that had now spread on your blushing face. "In all of my decades, observing your kind and mine," he pauses. "I have never met anyone as beautiful as you."

"I wonder which God sculpted you," he mutters under his breath, eyes bearing themselves into yours. "Those eyes. They're like Narcissus. I could get lost just by staring at them."

He placed another kiss on your lips, this time much softer than the last.

"Those men are fools," he says. "They could never see true beauty. Beauty that has so willingly presented itself before them."

It was as if he had fallen right then and there. The irony of being the God of Love was that he barely fell in love himself. But when he does, he falls deep. Turns into such poet. Just as how he was letting himself become vulnerable before you.

He takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together, intertwining them like perfect pieces of a puzzle. You were entranced. You didn't know how or why. But the way his hand would graze on your skin felt like electricity. The good kind where the hair on your back would stand each time you'd feel warm air breeze through while you are cold. Like goosebumps.

You wondered if there was something in that water that he had given you earlier. Aphrodisiac? No. There was nothing in there. And yet you felt so entranced. So pulled in. So dazed. You had never felt this feeling before from your past lovers. Then again, were those even love? Or just infatuation? Was it the true definition of love, or was this the true definition of love? Maybe it was just the effect of having the God of Love himself being so close to you. But you were none the wiser of his identity as a God. And yet he pulled you in like gravity.

His lips placed a chaste kiss on your lips once more, gradually travelling towards your cheek, your jawline, and your neck. They were slow yet passionate. His hands ran up your arms, holding your shoulder as he carefully lays you on the couch so you'd feel comfortable.

Minho looks at you once more. "Will you let me show you what love is?" he asks with a quiet tone. You stare at him for a short while, with him still placing soft kisses on your neck as he waits for your response. Eventually, you nod.

He hums quietly in satisfaction. "Just follow my lead," he says.

You don't know what happened after that. You only remember his occasional glances. His chaste kisses on your skin. His hands caressing everywhere they could land on, memorizing your every curve. You only remember laying there, naked.

His gaze on you never faltered. His eyes memorized every feature, taking in every imperfection that you had. As a God, he was but used to seeing only the perfect complexions. But with your body, the imperfections were what made you more beautiful in his eyes.

Minho leans down towards you, brushing the back of his fingers on your cheek softly. He held you as if you were porcelain. No rough movements. No raspy caresses. "Stop looking for love," he muses. "Because love himself is presenting itself to you." He takes your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. "Love itself is yours to take."

You part your lips with a soft gasp. No one, not even one man has ever told you such words. No one, not even one man has ever seen you this naked. No one, not even one man has ever held you as much as this man did. And he was worshipping you with both his words, his kisses, and his touches.

His hand pulled you closer for another kiss before caressing down your body, eventually resting itself on your thigh. His thumb brushes on your skin before travelling towards your inner thigh. His finger lingers too close to your core. Not touching, but you could feel it. Minho smiles at your reaction, chuckling as he finally runs a digit through your folds.

You lightly gasp, biting your lower lip to immediately stop yourself from letting out a sound. He looks up at you, amused by your sensitivity. You couldn't blame him. After all, you were a virgin. Both by touch and by intercourse. He could immediately tell as he continued running his finger through your heat, dragging through every slick as a string of your love juice connects your nub and the tip of his finger with every slow stroke. He traces small circles around your clit, earning a shivery hum from you as you cover your mouth with the back of your hand.

You hated how slow he was teasing you. Minho, however, was loving every second of it. How red your cheeks were right now. How half-lidded your eyes were. How wet you already were with just a few kisses and a few strokes.

He leans towards your chest, taking out his tongue to gently brush on one of your nipples, making you twitch. "You're quite easy to please," he mutters as he flicks his tongue and sucks lightly on your nipple. "But then again... You are a virgin."

This made your eyes widen. You tilted your head to the side, covering your face with embarrassment. You hear Minho chuckle before he takes your wrists, removing your hands from your face. "Shhh, it's okay." he whispers in your ear. He places a quiet kiss on your ear lobe. He faces you again. "At least you didn't get to experience how horrible and selfish those men are when it comes to making love."

His smile falters. "No. They don't call it making love, do they?" his eyes trail down to your stomach, bringing himself down so he could place kisses and kitten licks on your skin. "I believe most of them like calling it casual sex."

"Bastards," he curses under his breath before lowering himself again, this time being face-to-face with your heat. You embarrassingly closed your legs, momentarily making him react as your thighs envelope his head. He looks up at you with an amused smirk. "Guess you're into that, huh?" he mumbles with a husky tone before finally leaning in.

You could swear you momentarily saw stars as soon as his warm, wet tongue ran through your folds. His breath would always exhale each time he would swirl his tongue around your clit, slurping occasionally from his makeshift chalice.

You were sweeter than ambrosia and nectar, and he couldn't have enough. You were a walking cardinal sin, ready to prey on a God, to tempt him to indulge in such temptation. And that God was him. Except that you weren't tempting him, but it was him who willingly walked into your trap without any provocation.

The God of Love, enchanted by a human being. By you.

As his sucks and licks increased their pace, so did your stiffled moans. "Don't keep your moans to yourself," he says. "I'd love some good music." He stuck his tongue inside of you, exploring every crevice of your walls as much as he could while his teeth would occasionally scrape lightly through your clit. When you finally moan out loud unintentionally, he smiles. "That's it. Let me hear your pretty voice."

Every second that he spent worshipping you with his tongue brought you closer to something. You were already way past from what you used to consider as climax from your self-ministrations but this was something else. Something higher. Something more pleasurable.

You subconsciously grabbed his head, pulling his head closer. Minho's eyes widen a bit, surprised at your action but complies anyway. He smirks, tongue lapping you up faster as his mouth starts making the most sinful sounds as he sucks you in his mouth. He holds both your legs, determined to make you see a taste of heaven just as much as how he was tasting his own version of heaven through you.

As he gives you a long, dragging suck with the swirling of his tongue on your clit, it finally brings you to the edge. Your eyes shut tight, mouth hung open, and back arched as you cry out in pleasure. Your legs shake as they attempt to wiggle out from his grasps but his hold was strong, keeping you in place as he continues to suck on you, giving you overstimulation as you ride your first high.

He eventually lets you recover as you pant, now hovering above you as he licks away the remaining juices off his lips as if it was syrup. His eyes observe you, loving how helpless you looked as you tried to catch your breath from just a single climax, and just with a simple oral too. Minho brushes off a stray hair off your face, tucking it behind your ear as he places a kiss on your forehead.

"Well?" he asks. "It's good, isn't it?" You were too out of it to even answer. No one could blame you, the first orgasm—whether it was oral or not—was always the most mind-blowing. Too mind-blowing it turned you speechless in a matter of minutes. "That guy you were dancing with wouldn't even give a single fuck whether you'd cum or not," he says. "He'd only want to put his sad excuse of a dick inside that pretty little mouth and call it a day."

Minho places a soft kiss on your lips. "Human men won't care for you as much as Love himself would," he pauses. "Because they do not know love. They only know Lust."

He gently opens your legs, zipping down his own pants in the process. "Let me make love to you," Minho says, caressing your thighs as he raises them. He places kisses on your legs. When you finally recover from your trance, you glance at him. He was now as naked as you were but you could swear you were laying your eyes upon a God. And you really were.

He was perfect regardless wherever you would lay your eyes upon. Especially his arms. God, his arms were like nothing you have ever seen and yet they held you with such care. He could flail you around like a ragdoll, just like what most men would do in those porn videos you'd watch each time you felt a little lonely. But no, he held you as if you were a priceless vase. He'd trace your body as if it was some rare artwork to revel on at a museum. He'd draw you in his head like you were one of his French girls. Except that he didn't have any of those. You were the only girl that made a significance within his eyes.

You finally gave in, tossing all reason aside. If this was going to be your final chance at love, you prayed. Then you might as well let it happen.

Your tongues danced within a kiss, intertwining with each other both emotionally and physically. He clung unto you and you clung unto him, bodies pressing into each other as your sweat would momentarily stick each time Minho would close the proximity between you two. His thrusts started as slow yet passionate strokes, your velvety walls hugging around him as you moan in between gaps of your sloppy kisses. His hand caresses your waist, resting by your hips as he grips them only to pull you back towards him so you'd meet his thrusts.

He wasn't ruthless. He wasn't in a rush. He wasn't destroying you. And just like he said, he wasn't just giving you sex. He was making love with you. His slow thrust eventually increase its pace, the tip of his cock now kissing your cervix at each thrust. The sinful sound of skins slapping fill the walls of his office, mixed in by both your moans. He would always place wet, open-mouthed kisses on your neck and latch his lips on your nipple, never having enough of you as he drives deeper and deeper into you.

If he could, he would bury himself into you. Get lost in pleasure with you. Stay inside you. If it meant showing you what love really was, he would do it. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure through your body and his as your moans encouraged him to go even deeper. He couldn't get enough of the way you looked at him. How your lips would mouth incoherent words as he continues to savor the feeling of being inside you.

Soon enough, the room was filled with nothing but heavy breathing and ragged gasps. You wrap your arms around Minho's neck, pulling him closer as you yourself get closer to your own climax once more. He could feel you slowly tightening around him, a smirk finding its way on his lips.

"Cumming again?" he whispers, quiet groans lacing his question in between as he starts to thrust into you at a faster pace. You nod absentmindedly, eyes shut tight as you arch your back once more. He raises your legs, gaining more access to thrust deeper. "Deeper," he mumbles. "A little more."

With each thrust, his cock reached deeper depths that you didn't know were reachable. It sent you on edge. With his one final thrust, he finally hits that button needed for you to snap, making you moan out loud. The way you suddenly clenched around him as he was buried deep inside you made him reach his own climax as well, painting your walls with his own release. "Cumming cumming cumming!" you mutter, hands gripping on his arms as his groans muffle themselves in your neck.

You both laid there, gasping for air in each other's arms, savoring each other's warmth before Minho finally raises his head from your neck and looks at you. His face held the most loving and softest expression. He was smiling at your dazed state.

He places a kiss on your forehead. On your nose. And on your lips before looking into your half-lidded eyes. "I'll be back soon," he says. He said something else after that but you were too exhausted to even remember as your eyes finally closed, sending you into a state of rest.

...

You awoke with a jolt as you shot up from your bed, eyes open wide as you pant. You glanced around, immediately recognizing your surroundings as your bedroom. You frown to yourself, glancing down beneath the blanket.

What the hell happened? you asked yourself. You weren't exactly sure. You remembered being in a bar to meet up with that tinder date you have been crushing on since last week but after that, you passed out—probably from alcohol and now here you were, confused.

You wondered how you got home in the first place.

And that dream, you sighed to yourself, feeling your core wet from whatever dream you had. You shook your head, a palm running through your face as you groan in frustration.

"I can't believe I was so desperate to the point I'd dream of making love with someone," you roll your eyes at yourself as you throw yourself back on the bed again. This time, hugging your pillow and your curiosity piqued at your dream. "Whoever that guy was in my dream was really attractive though," you mutter to yourself.

Unbeknownst to you, Minho observed you through the window of your room from far a way, chuckling. He observes your pretty features first before finally turning around.

He'll remain in your dreams for now. After all, that was how Greek Gods would visit their human love affairs—through dreams. Though this time, he'd visit your dreams frequently.

Maybe because he wants less paperwork from you. Maybe because he wants you to pine for him more than the men you'd meet.

Eitherway, he can't wait until he visits you the next time you close your eyes again.

likes and reblogs are very much appreciated!!

901 notes · View notes

midnightechoes · 1 year ago

Note

When either Suletta or Miorine get fridged, I hope you realize how stupid you were for swallowing up obvious queerbaiting.

So. This was sent to me right around the time the season 1 finale of G_Witch aired, sometime in early January. And I held onto it this entire time because shit, if anything it made me put my faith even further into this show.

I assume this isn't a mutual or a follower. Whoever it is they were too cowardly to put their name to it. Whoever wrote it, I feel bad for. Because they're no reason to come into a stranger's space and write something like this, unless you get joy from making others miserable, or you are miserable and want others to join you in that misery, or seeing someone enjoying things makes you angry.

Whichever one it is, that points to a person with very little real joy in their life, and I hope they can find something that makes them genuinely happy that isn't destructive.

I doubt any of us are perfect when it comes to the kind of energy we put out into the world and onto the internet. I know I'm not. I've worked on trying to be better about it, but even now I know that I slip up from time to time.

But one thing I truly believe, even if I sometimes struggle to remember it, is that your life is much better when you're focusing on the things that bring you joy.

At times, it feels like the internet is designed to reward hate and negativity, and maybe it is. But that's miserable. We all spend so much time being miserable on here, when we could have so much fun if we put that effort into the things that make us happy.

So, I am going to try to continue putting my love and energy into things that I love, and ignore the things that I don't and just let the people that do like those things be happy. I'm going to fail sometimes, but I'm going to keep trying. And I hope you all will too.

And to the person that wrote this Ask, I hope you find something that gives you as much joy and happiness as G_Witch and these funky little space-wives have given me.

#gwitch #g witch #g-witch #gundam #the witch from mercury #suletta mercury #miorine rembran #sulemio #positivity #outlook #i'm trying to be better every day #i hope you all are too

409 notes · View notes

buckyarchives · 2 years ago

Text

Domestic Life Of a Living With a Runaway Assassin. [Intro.]

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x soulmate!reader

Summary: you hate many things in life. you hate soulmates. you hate the avengers. you hate guns. you hate loud snorers and complicated relationships.

Bucky Barnes is associated with all of those things, yet you can't find yourself hating him

W.c: 2.1K

Series playlist linked here

Author note: this was actually one of my first long form fics I wrote in many years, its carrys a nostalgic feeling and means a lot to me. i wrote it like last October and thought abt kinda rewriting some stuff and posting it here! I thought some of you guys woudk enjoy this story. this is only a short darbble that teases the story, next chapter shows how they met and everything after that. It takes place right after CA:TWS and it’s a soulmate AU!

Masterlist

Soulmates.

The legend goes that when the universe was created and whatever higher power you believed in created humans to have two sets of legs, two sets of arms, and two heads. Now because the world is cruel and no one can have nice things, whoever is in charge up there split us up into two beings but forever being connected by our souls. Spending the rest of our life waiting and searching for our other halves. Never being our true whole selves without them. How poetically tragic.

It turned into a weird way to make money nowadays, you felt like no one really cared about the reality of soulmates now. It was made into shitty romance movies, or stupid scientific searches for your one and only soulmate that was definitely an internet scam. People literally faking soul marks towards celebrities for their one chance with them that their delusional minds make up.

All just a desperate attempt to feel whole and loved but your one and true person. Always and forever destined to be.

What a touching story. Too bad you think it's all bullshit

No genuinely, you were supposed to believe your life's purpose was to find this one person in the entire universe that matched you, and without them, you what? you were going to be miserable for the rest of your life? The universe is a scam. You had given up on the whole mad search for your other half years ago, you didn't understand why you couldn't go out and find your own partner without having to match up those stupid words on your shoulder.

“I'm sorry, you probably don't feel very safe with me.”

Those stupid words. You hated the idea of soulmates but you couldn't stop yourself from the hours of wondering just what the hell that was supposed to mean. You had no interest in seeking out your soulmate but you could wonder what type of person they may be. Were they really a dangerous person? Would you genuinely not feel safe with the said person when you first meet? Would you even meet them?

Questions had swirled through your head since the day you got it. Those questions had died down a little, you were getting older and most of your peers had already met their soulmates. You noticed soulmates were not just romantic, they came in friendships, some didn't work out, some came between children and parents, and some came through your fire escape at night, covered in blood and knocking down your favorite plants.

With a loud crash, your feet carried you through your new york apartment to your living room. You saw the outline of him crouched down on the floor. “I'm so sorry, I know that was your favorite plant.”

Okay, spoiler. You had found your soulmate. You weren't excited about it as the rest of the world expected, but it happened. You weren't some hypocrite that would suddenly abandoned all beliefs and fell head over heels for your soulmate once you met like one of those stupid romance movies you mention earlier, you were not some cliche. Especially not with a poor excuse of a runaway-brainwashed-assassin soulmate, at least you would try convincing yourself that.

“My god Bucky, how many times do I have to tell you to just go through the door.” you pinch the bridge of your nose as the tired old man scrambles to clean up the dirt and scattered pot beneath him. “I mean, you practically live here now.”

“I'm not using the door, someone could see me.”

You think Like that's better than having someone see you climb through the fire escape, asshole. You scoff and shake your head and begin dragging yourself to the kitchen. You had a slight quirk at the end of your lips, an amused smile, you hoped Bucky didn’t see in the dark. Maybe he did, you didn’t really have enough time to ask him the deets on the effects of the serum.

You swing open the cabinet door and grab a trash bag and first aid kit. God only knows how bent out of shape bucky is tonight. Making your way back into your living room, Buckys still muttering under his breath about your stupid plant and “god dammit it's fucking freezing out there.”

throwing the trash back at him, he looks up at you. His eyes are beautiful. His hair is sopping wet and you were hoping to any god above that he wasn't bleeding out on your floor. You were not losing your security deposit for your reckless runaway assassin soulmate. God, that's a mouthful, you need to give him a new nickname.

“So, what's the damage?”

“s’ nothing, I'm just cold. It started raining hard.” he looks like a wet shaking dog. Your heart aches.

You look him up and down. Noticing the water dripping from all his clothing. “I see that.”

You sigh and take a few steps toward him. Bucky eyes follow your moments precisely. He has a bit of a staring problem. You snag the hair tie off your wrist and swiftly tie his brunette wet mop of a head into a little man bun. Cute. you shake your head.

“Stay, I'll be right back.”

Bucky watches you in awe as your body ascends back into the darkness of the room and around a corner. He's uncomfortable and his socks are wet. The leather vest is wet and he feels like he's trapped in his own skin, and Bucky feels too heavy.

Slowly, he begins to unstrap all weapons on his body and toss them to the side so you don't have to see them. You didn't like guns. He had a designated place where he hides them because god-forbid Bucky messes up your apartment aesthetic with his dozen of unsettling and quite scary weapons. Your words, not his.

Unzipping the leather top and peeling the fabric off himself was less than a nice feeling, it made him cringe and sent a quick shiver down his spine. Bucky tossed it to the side, he’ll deal with that tomorrow. His hands feel the thin black shirt that's left, it's wet too. Fucking hell. He doesn’t remember the New York weather being this bad in September, he also barely remembers anything so his memory isn’t too reliable. Bucky slowly peels the fabric over his head, he hopes he doesn't mess up the bun you did, he never did it right.

Bucky hears your feet pad against your floor. He pushes back a smile. You're holding a towel and some clothes. He watches you as you crouch down next to him on the floor, he notices that your eyes are squinted and your bed head is apparent. A twinge of guilt hits him now knowing he had woken you up. Bucky whispers, “I woke you up.”

You sigh, again. “I was having a bad dream anyways.”

“About?”

You inhale, scoffing to yourself. “I was being chased by Jimmy Fallon with a jar of pickles – because you know, I hate pickles – and he was yelling at me about the importance of eating vegetables, but he sounded just like my mom.”

Bucky didn’t remember who Jimmy Fallon was, “you must think you’re so amusing, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

Bucky curls his toes and is unfortunately reminded of his very wet socks. He leans forward to untie his hefty boots. Your eyes trail along his naked back, his muscles flex and suddenly you are just a little more awake. You watch his left arm in all its glory, taking note of the ragged and scarred tissues where metal meets skin. Scratch marks are littered around the edges, and you feel sad for him, imagining how those got there. The moonlight highlights his metal arm, making it shine and look quite beautiful. You could never tell Bucky that.

“It's been a week.” you finally breathe out. Bucky freezes in place as his fingers wrap around his laces. He feels guilty again. “And you didn't leave a note this time either. I thought...”

Trailing off, you stop yourself before you say something you were going to regret. Your mind wanders, you felt so incredibly stupid right now. Truth is, you didn't agree with the whole soulmate ordeal but it seemed like ever since your unconventional first meeting with Bucky, he has stuck to you like glue. He just kept coming back and then leaving again.

It took you many of his overnight stays and weirdly domestic mornings making scrambled eggs together and then turning into a worry machine after he leaves. You realized had grown to care for him deeply. Bucky always came back, but you were scared for the day we might not.

Bucky is– literally, a lost puppy. He had been on the run and actively avoiding the few stray agents that knew he was still alive when he met you.

Bucky remembered back when he was a kid, dreaming about the day he would meet his soulmate. He and Steve would stay up all night talking about their soul marks, or just words (as they used to call it), and what they thought their soulmates would be like. Bucky was obsessed and simply put, a hopeless romantic.

Then Steve met his soulmate, Peggy. And then he technically died and Hydra happened, Bucky thought his soulmate would have been dead because he was out of his time now. After being brainwashed and having been broken and put back together by Hydra, Bucky could still never shake the feeling of you still being out there, it was like some instinctive feeling in his bones, he had hope and it was one of the only things keeping him going.

And he was right.

Bucky had many doubts when he first met you, given his situation. But you were not scared. And that was enough for him at the time.

But now he just feels guilty for giving you the burden of being his soulmate. He was trying, really.

“I'm sorry, doll.” his voice didn't sound like his own, he shrugged the rest of his boot off and followed with his socks. Finally. “I should have left a note. I'm safe, you're safe, and I'm here now.”

Bucky heard you sniffled and you turned your head with an embarrassment look and glossy eyes. Like you were ashamed for caring.

“sweetheart...” he scooted closer, hoping you wouldn't mind his damp skin on yours. Bucky reached for you, wrapping his flesh hand around yours and giving you a small squeeze. Your head turned to him, a small smile hidden on your face by the darkness of the room. He saw it. Bucky might even think you're an angel. “I won't leave without saying something next time, I'm sorry.”

“Do I even want to know what you were doing out there?”

He hated lying to you but his life was complicated. “Just trying to fix some things I did.”

You nod. “Good.”

The silence between the two of you isn't uncomfortable, the past few months have been silent– at least with bucky. He is your soulmate. He is also the winter soldier, and the winter soldier is always moving and hiding. Bucky Barnes is always moving, always. He had been that way even way back in the Howling Commandos.

You were his safe haven. Your relationship was on and off but your bond was strong, it was wordless and tentative and strung together by patching wounds at midnight and soft, domestic glances over coffee. Your house– just you were his place where he could just stop, pretend as if nothing mattered and sit on the couch and watch reality television that you loved. Bucky found it questionable but you said “it will help you get with the times.” Bucky just watched it because he knew it made you happy.

Bucky Barnes had been moving all week, fast. He had almost died, twice. He was never going to let you know that though. Bucky was due for some Hell's Kitchen or dance moms. He was also not going to tell you that.

The moonlight was fading and you could hear the faint sound of birds chirping outside, barely silenced by the bustling city life of people leaving for work. You are still sitting next to Bucky, and you nudge him with your elbow. His attention is now drawn to you. You bite your bottom lip, a horrible habit you had, bucky hated it. Bucky brings his thumb up to your face and pulls your lip away from your teeth. He wants to kiss you.

“Go take a shower, you stink.” That works too. He smiles and you laugh. Yeah, Bucky thinks he can stop for just a little longer this time.

Feedback and comments make the work go round, comment to be added to the tag list!

Tag list : @ivywasmaroon @ozwriterchick @slytherinambitious @wintermischief

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #bucky x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #bucky fic #sebastian stan #bucky barns imagine #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x gender neutral reader #sebastian stan x reader

592 notes · View notes

bloodyinkandquill · 2 months ago

Text

Rocket x Reader

wrote these after getting off of phighting, was very fun phighting is so good shsigsjshsk, anyways enjoy!

- When you first met Rocket you thought he was hyper and kind of annoying, fast forward to you two dating, you did not see that one coming but hey, boyfriend acquired so who cares

- While yes he is sorta hyperactive and a bit loud sometimes you love that about him, it’s part of who he is and you love everything about him, and he loves everything about you right back, even if not through words he shows his love for you a lot, especially through touch, he’s very clingy, he likes hugging you, holding you, holding your hand, draping himself across your legs or having you drape yourself over him, he just wants to be in contact with you at all times

- He probably uses those really cheesy embarrassing pet names just to make you embarrassed and annoyed with him, stuff like shnookums or cutiepie, but actually he calls you sweet things in private when he doesn’t wanna be an ass, if you do it back he turns it into a game, who can call the other a more weird/embarrassing name, whoever can’t think of something or whoever gets too embarrassed and asks the other to stop first wins, he’s very competitive but he has admitted defeat a couple times before

- You definitely help Rocket with trimming his horns, cleaning his rocket, basic maintenance on his arm and leg, etc, while he can do those things by himself it’s difficult, especially his horns and since Zuka ‘thinks it’s stupid’ he usually asks you or Sword to trim them, then it’s difficult to repair his arm when he only has the one to use

- Speaking of his arm it has occurred more than once where you slept over at his or he slept at your and the next morning you have to spend 5 minutes finding his fucking leg because he put it somewhere the night before and can’t remember where so he can’t fucking walk, he gets all grumbly and huffy even when you remind him it’s his fault he doesn’t know where his leg is, if your at his place and you just cannot find it he puts on an old one that’s not bionic and is more like a peg leg and hobbles around to help you find it

- For dates he probably enjoys movie nights, semi fancy dinners, gaming into the early morning, a lot of quality time stuff, but don’t get him wrong his love language is physical touch during all of it he’s touching you somewhere, arm, leg, head, whatever, something of his is on you or something of yours is on him

- Chronic clothes thief, hoodie? Rocket is gaslighting you into thinking it’s always been his, but not actually it’s a silly goofy thing not a toxic thing, some accessory you wear commonly? You take it off for a second and he’s got it on, don’t even get started on if he spends the night at your place, you wake up after him and nothing he’s wearing is his, it is all from your closet

- DO NOT LET THIS MAN IN THE KITCHEN. Early on in the relationship he offered to make you breakfast, Zuka had to grab a fire extinguisher. You learned a valuable lesson to never let him cook, he forgot the water in ramen, SIX TIMES. If you can’t cook either you guys eat a lot of take out or rely on Zuka, luckily he can cook, though some of it is solider ration meals because of his past, so honestly if you also can’t cook you might just wanna pick up food for everyone’s sakes

- He feels ashamed about his past and hates talking to you about it, it was a awful part of his life and he has the scars to prove it, you don’t push which he is grateful for as he doesn’t want you to think less of him for the violence and anger that was teenage him

hope you enjoyed! i had fun writing it and j think it’s good, i feel like i’m missing something though, idk its midnight maybe im just over thinking lol, if i do remember i forgot something i’ll add it

#x reader #phighting #phighting x reader #phighting!#phighting rocket x reader #rocket x reader phighting #phighting rocket #rocket phighting #rocket x reader

30 notes · View notes

electricmagazine · 1 year ago

Text

Public Shock as Megumi Fushiguro Refuses to do Promotional Video

The Jujutsu Kaisen star says he “doesn’t understand” why he was “suddenly grouped differently” for the interviews

The entertainment world was shaken on Monday when the Jujutsu Kaisen official twitter account announced that they were cancelling their planned promotional interviews due to “lack of participation” on the actors’ parts. While fans were outraged and demanded to know what happened, Megumi Fushiguro took a leap, stepped out, and took the blame.

“Stop sending hate mail to the cast,” he tweeted. “I chose not to be part of the interviews, and my friends stood with me. There were some problems, but we’re working through them.”

The star went on to explain via replies that he felt the groupings for the interviews were problematic, and that there was a simple solution that he’d like the promotions team to employ.

In an interview with Electric Magazine, he said, “I don’t understand why I was suddenly grouped differently. For every other interview I did, specifically those for season one, I was grouped with characters and actors I was connected with – Yuji, Nobara, Satoru, whoever. Season two has brought in a few minor characters, including my character’s biological dad… I just don’t think my character should be grouped with his biological dad over his friends.

“Promotions thought it was a good idea to group our characters together because in the show, we’re related. But it doesn’t work like that. My character hates his dad, why are they putting us in an interview together?”

Fushiguro also specified that he meant no hate towards Toji, the man who plays his character’s father in the show, but he thought it made little sense for their characters to be in the same interview.

Other cast members also stepped in with messages of support for Fushiguro, including co-star Yuji Itadori and adoptive father Satoru Gojo.

“Biological relations mean nothing when someone has been abandoned. This may seem overdramatic to some, but these interview groupings are an insult to adoptive, found, and loving family,” the famous actor wrote.

“No-one should have to bring up their personal life in public to have their voice heard. Everyone who has a brain would know these groupings are completely wrong. Stay strong Megumi, you’re doing the right thing,” Shoko Ieri replied to the emotive post.

“good for you megumi. stand up to those ignorant idiots,” Nobara Kugisaki tweeted, complete with a picture of her and Fushiguro together.

“Megumi’s character already has a dad. Biological does not mean family. Things will never be right until the producers understand this,” wrote Itadori.

“I will not being doing the interview until Megumi can do his,” was Kento Nanami’s bold stance.

Amongst a split and conflicted fanbase, the official twitter simply tweeted, “We did not realise our actors would feel strongly about their interview groups and we had no intention to offend. The groups will be fixed ASAP and hopefully the interviews will go ahead.”

Many viewers felt this was an unfeeling response to Fushiguro’s genuine problem, with one even replying, “This just proves that the industry doesn’t care. It’s not about whether the interviews can go ahead, it’s about why it was deemed appropriate to group Megumi with a minor, unrelated character in the first place.”

Outcry against the producers and promotions teams seemed endless, with #jjkpromo and #staystrongmegumi trending for weeks across all platforms. Most felt that it had been a stupid decision from the start, since Megumi was a main character and should therefore be with the other main characters regardless of who he was related to. Others felt that extra sensitivity was needed due to Fushiguro’s own background, which was clearly the root of his ‘interview strike’.

“Yeah, I’m adopted,” he told Electric Magazine. “And yeah, that’s probably why I care so much. But the point stands. This character is unrelated to mine; this character is a minor, abusive father who my character despises. It’s not okay to normalise healing those relationships or still associating these people together.

“If I was someone who was abandoned by an abusive father – and I’m not, but many people are – how would I feel to know that the media still considers us family? How would I feel knowing that society prioritises that biological relationship over the connections I’d built with my friends?

“I guess this could be seen as overdramatic. It’s just an interview. I know. But it represents so much more; it’s a signal flare from the media and I’m not willing to let it go past me.”

Eventually, even Toji stepped forward, tweeting, “I’ve been quiet because I don’t know what to say, but I see I need to say something. Megumi is right to protest this grouping. I thought it was odd that we were put together as we don’t even share any scenes, but I see know it could have become weaponised. #istandwithmegumi.”

Electric will keep updating as events unfold.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk megumi #jjk toji #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro megumi #toji fushiguro #jjk actor au #actor au #jjk gojo #jjk yuuji #jjk nobara #jjk shoko #jjk nanami

198 notes · View notes

1moreff-creator · 1 year ago

Text

How the LGI MV proves MonoTVid is both canon and a doomed ship

In this totally serious analysis post, I will show you, with 100% irrefutable evidence, that MonoTVid (the common ship name for MonoTV x David) is destined to be both canon and a doomed ship. This is in honor of them recently winning that one poll in The Website Formerly Known As Twitter, a poll which I do not entirely understand but one which I will respect regardless.

I will not accept any criticism on this post. I am objectively correct. If you find mistakes in this post, then what you’ve found is a mistake in your brain.

Obviously a TV, Obviously a Ship

Observe.

Now, do you understand?

If you don’t, let me spell it out for you. We have what is “obviously a TV” with terrorist iconography, which obviously represents MonoTV, nearby several elements which clearly represent David. The hair clips, the megaphone, the dummy. You’ll see “dummies” is plural, because David is a dummy. This is the first clue to the tsundenderish nature of David, as he is literally calling himself a “baka”, perhaps even of the sussy variety. If he calls himself “baka”, could he use the same word to describe someone else?

But the true indication of this ship is the lemon on top of the TV. See, the lemon in the story “Lemon” by the man who wrote the story “Lemon”, whoever he was, is a lemon which represents, despite being a lemon, a person’s will to live. If you want further context on this lemon, read the background text near the lemon when the lyric “make a lemon bomb” shows up on screen, near the lemon. You think I’m gonna post an image of the lemon text near the lemon? No. You should know the lemon text near the lemon by heart.

Anyways, this lemon is obviously on top of the TV to represent that MonoTV is David’s reason to live. There are no other possible interpretations.

But you may also see those dandelions, labeled “weeds”. Weed is what I’m taking to make this post. Not cannabis, I am sniffing dandelions. This is besides the point.

Now, you’ll realize that since dandelions represent happiness, and even hope, the point the video tries to make with them is that David sees these things as annoying weeds. This shows MonoTV and David both hate hope. They are clearly lovers.

But what you didn’t notice, and I know you didn’t notice for I am in your walls, is footnote 18: “A/N: soz not very good at drawing flowers lol!!!”. See, David is the author of these notes, which is obvious from things like footnote 11, the “I am an only child” one. What this footnote means is that David gave these flowers to MonoTV, but he’s embarrassed about it, because he doesn’t think any gift can match the divine splendor of MonoTV. David is just that sweet. That much of a cinnamon roll who can do no wrong. A skrunkly. A blorbo. What other words can I use to brainwash Tumblr users.

Now, look at these.

Look at the balloon and the Monokuma plushie. Does my inconsistent coloring of “the” bother you? I am very evil. You’ll see the balloon is labeled “stupid kid’s toy”, while the plushie is “a popular toy”.

Now, you might think this is another indication that David sees anything related to hope, like balloons, as inherently childish and stupid. Meanwhile, he sees anything related to despair, like Monokuma, as more grounded.

You are wrong.

You seem, MonoTV has stated Monokuma is its dad. So this being in the video means that MonoTV is David’s daddy and his toy. I’ll explain when you’re older. Just kidding, I won’t. Fuck that.

Not convinced?

Why? I am always right, so you shouldn’t doubt me.

But okay, I guess:

I Will Bring Up Color Theory For The Thousandth Post In A Row

I am not linking the accirax post for the fiftieth time. Look it up yourself.

Look:

Yellow for David, cyan for MonoTV. Many have tried to come up with an answer for what “original” means, but it’s actually really simple.

See, David has an I. You wanna know who else has an I? Dark blue, which may be J. And J is the mastermind. Here’s the source for that, it’s somewhere in that video, you just have to find it.

So, J, who is the mastermind and thus essentially MonoTV, has the same letter as David. This clearly shows David and MonoTV are lovers.

Here’s another case of a cyan I.

Boom. Theorizing’s easy.

Then, look.

David has game in yellow, then MonoTV has game in cyan. They’re lovers. Do you find another explanation? No, no you don’t. You will not think critically about this post. You are not immune to MonoTVid propaganda.

But, alas, the ship is not to last.

David is a Cat

At the beginning of the video:

David calls himself a cat, then MonoTV shows up to remind us it’s a dog. You might think it doesn’t mean much, but there actually is meaning behind David being a cat. See, it’s related to the archaic Japanese pronoun “wagahai”, referenced-

Nah, you don’t care about that. David’s a cat, source just trust me bro.

That’s what the black and white cat sitting next to David actually represents: David, tied by color scheme to MonoTV. I’m writing this on my phone and don’t feel like waiting to get to a computer to get past the 10 image limit, so we’re out of visuals.

Why is this important? Well, if you take into account the Romeo and Juliet quote that footnote 8 is attached to (here’s a screenshot), it’s clear the MV is trying to convey a story of two people in love separated by fate. This is clearly about David and MonoTV, which is further represented by David being represented by a cat when MonoTV is obviously a dog. Truly sad. Can I get an amen?

Are you not convinced yet? Crazy. Well, one last thing then.

It’s All Democratic

“To be or not to be? Who knows? Let’s decide! Democratic-ly”

You see how the rules for class trials are on the same image as democratic-ly? Well, this is a clear reference to the poll on The Website Formerly Known As Twitter. Since MonoTVid was chosen as the winner of said poll, it was chosen “democratically”, and will thus become a canon doomed ship. You might wonder if this means the dev has the ability to see the future. But we are not to speculate on the dev’s identity, so while we can’t theorize they are clairvoyant, we also can’t speculate they aren’t. Checkmate.

In fact, The Website Formerly Known As Twitter is now sometimes referred to as “X”, an obvious reference to the X on this screen. Because surely no one would be so absolutely idiotic as to just name the website “X” for no reason.

But hold on, isn’t this X actually Roman numeral 10 for Min?

Well, obviously. We never saw Min’s corpse in her execution, which means she survived and is the second mastermind alongside J. Min is still alive. Min is still alive. Min is still alive. Min is still-

Am I a Whit Young kinnie, but specifically for Min? No, obviously. Because Min isn’t like Whit’s mom, because Min is still alive.

The point is, Min is related back to MonoTV through her mastermind-y nature, and MonoTV to MonoTVid, I’m too lazy to actually continue writing this post.

—————————————————————————

Did you actually read this all the way to end? Are you okay? Do you need a hug? Because this is insane. I don’t know why I made this. Take care!

#drdt #danganronpa despair time #david chiem #monotv #monotvid #i went insane from reading too much #actually what the fuck am i doing #shitpost

108 notes · View notes

rowanthestrange · 5 months ago

Note

i just read the entirety of your Rogue is the Bad Guy essay, and i’ll admit, you’ve convinced me, but not that he’s the Master, but that he’s trying to cosplay the Master cosplaying whoever. Also, it was really long so, like, i’m asking with full concern: are you okay? it just seemed like it took a ridiculous amount of time /lh

What I think is the case, probably 51% the Master. Just squeaks it.

What I want is Chuldur/Pantheon member ‘The’ Rogue cosplaying the Master cosplaying Jack. I’d prefer it by a very large margin. A huge one. But as to whether I think it will happen, I give that 49%. But that’s still good odds.

(I’ve got a lot of Pantheon!Rogue feels, ideas, and desires and have had nowhere else to put them yet, and this is a valid place to share them, rip. And to anyone else who followed the first Essay, let me convince you of my secondary Sub-Thesis in it.)

I’m giving that seemingly crazy high 49% despite the risky complexity of double-layering, because A) that was the Ruby resolution: she cosplayed the bird cosplaying as her - we’ve done it already and everyone got it.

And B)…Is actually complicated literal-meta but hear me out. Since they’re the only other writers this season I think there’s a very high chance they’re forerunners for next showrunners. I know at least one has high level management experience, and if they were given that as a test to do highly complex work to cut their teeth, this would be an incredibly good test that they passed imo. The Master is in themselves hard to write but necessary to fully comprehend because even when not present they are a lynchpin of the show. Here you’d have to write him well. But also effectively set up two twists (that he’s the Master, and then that he’s not he’s just pretending he is). You have to establish a Pantheon member - make an important part of an overarching narrative. And link together with other writers current and past. As well as create a good story with all functioning meta, on multiple levels.

The second you let Rogue be The Bad Guy the complexity of literally everything skyrockets anyway. (And one of the reason I’m a little annoyed that people want to believe he’s so flat - it does the writers a deep disservice to just think they wrote Space Darcy and there’s no shared metaplot there). But while Russell likes a certain amount of simplicity — Occam’s Razor 51% Master — RTD2 has been having fun with more complicated stuff, more prior-knowledge and using that, more thinking needed if you’re going to get the answers early. I think if he was going to give future showrunners something hard to do this would be it. For me Chuldur/Pantheon!Rogue is the pinnacle of that while still being perfectly possible to pull off to casuals without too much brainache. ‘The American accent guys, come on.’

I certainly think they have seeded all they need to, obviously can’t grade without seeing the full execution. And they certainly succeeded in writing ‘the Master’ well. Rewatching that ending? That actually got to me. And I’m a wall. I hated him which is what makes an actually good Master/Master-Proxy - you can neither go too far with that or the character becomes too unenjoyable (Simm!Master), but also too little with the hatred being turned almost entirely into pity (fandom), or even just they’re pretty purely enjoyable (Missy - but she’s an odd duck anyway), also robs them of something essential. This is pitched very well. Test passed on that score.

If my preference and height of percentage seems confusing, to me it makes no difference when talking about them whether he’s the Master or The Rogue perfectly playing the Master. Because if he’s perfectly playing him, as his Pantheon power should presumably allow him to do, it tells us about the Master anyway, so I don’t actually feel any need to differentiate most of the time. Certainly in The Essay it seemed stupid to bog it down with that and risk confusing the people still on ‘but he’s a good guy’ where it wasn’t necessary, because all arguments stay basically the same for a perfect copy. I trusted the reader to apply the level of abstraction themselves for the most part, only coming in with that where I thought something could be particularly relevant/missed in regard to that specifically. Muddying the issue with too repetitiously focusing on ‘remember it called also be a perfect Master cosplay’ and that seemingly complicated (even if I think valid) double-layering didn’t feel like the right call for something where just Rogue Is Playing The Bad Guy was already a hard sell to who I wanted to reach. Ymmv.

The only things that give me pause are that 1: The implication that he’s cloaked seems very high - the earring interference, psychic scents can mask real ones, seeming lack of recognition by allies (until the end I think - they shut up while he’s doing the scene rather than threaten or beg for their lives) etc. The Pantheon seem to have a lot of reality twisting powers. You wouldn’t need to, surely? You’d need to have a reason other than ‘same devices too close’ for that interference which starts the whole thing at minimum and I think ‘he made it happen for the Doctor to come over’ is too cheaty. And 2: The Bag. Why would you need to pack a bag and ensure you have it on you at the end if you can just snap your fingers?

But could be that it actually just contains his dice and he’s a stickler for doing things manually - think of daddy here, rules and ways to do things and following structure while also being creative within those constrictions. Which also very much applies to Dungeon Masters (won’t lie, the ‘Master’ part of that is what eeks it to 51% for just being him). This could come up, it’s feasible.

A Chuldur needing the teleport is also fair of course. And would want the psychic jewellery for the reverse of Ruby - being a Chuldur who needs to smell human to keep the gang on their toes and unsuspecting it’s him.

And there are lots of little things that complement the Pantheon element. We have the dancing scene where the lights dim. We have the fact he’s working with alternate dimension creatures and knows a lot about them. Certainly shows no fear at being sent to an alternate dimension once he’s got what he wanted. We have the American accent. We have him probably having watched Doctor Who like Bridgerton because he’s very familiar with Jack’s introductory episodes with all the references. We have the Vitamin String Quartet’s cover of ‘I’m The Bad Guy’ - Dungeon Masters love making playlists for their scenes, so why wouldn’t he (and also Theme of Music)? Maybe he doesn’t overtly use his powers during The Session because that sort of ugly manipulation of the world is cheap and bad DMing. Daddy liked the Spice Girls, why wouldn’t he like Kylie? He’s a game player like daddy but there’s no winning D&D, especially as DM, which makes an easy natural conflict between them. And we need at least one Pantheon member, cus while I think this is actually just a set-up season for them, there needs to be at least four, really five to truly feel ‘Pantheon’, three would be bare minimum and not enough for when the shit actually starts to go down next season, need at least four by then. I’m assuming we see one: The Writer, or The Audience, or Death or (The Twist At) The End/Grand Finale or whatever else you interpret the oldest one/one who waits to be, in the finale itself.

And this means we get a new (and if Pantheon rather than Chuldur) long-term character. Cosplaying the Master means The Rogue isn’t a copy of them, can just be playing The Bad Guy cus it’s fun right now, but they themselves don’t have to be Master-like, they can be anything. Something new. Anyone who knows me knows I wanted more rogue Time Lords and these guys are like that but with magic powers - what’s not to love? If The Rogue is a Joker, A Wildcard, and they just become a character that fills a void, that’s fascinating. Or they want to create exciting stories whatever that means and become whatever NPCs necessary to drive them on, that’s so interesting. Or they’re guided by being whatever they find cool much like the birds, with all the capricious ‘eh, bored now I’m wrapping this story up’ of a greek god (cus, well.) with all the associated dangers and disregard of these not being characters but people they’re playing with, and also expects there to be no hard feelings after The Session is over and next time it’s a new one. Can they perfectly roleplay a character but still break character if needed, or are they locked in to it until The Session’s done? Do they believe themself to have a ‘real’ personality or is that all fuzzy? Or all of the above. You could go anywhere from standard villain to a full Chaotic Neutral with that. And all the implications you could have of their power being to perfectly roleplay a person. And I use ‘they’ here because surely this is the most genderfluid a character you could get. The Rogue could literally be the red-nailed woman who picked up the gold tooth, think about that. How perfect would that be. Maybe that’s what’s in the bag. Live Tooth Reaction To The Kiss Not Clickbait. A character that could literally be anyone at any time, we would never know peace again. If Susan Twist appearing everywhere is something Pantheony, The Rogue is the inverse of this. Siblings maybe.

And see my Christmas Special pitch. Which is both a joke, but also an example of what fun you could have with The Rogue if you wanted. It doesn’t have to be pure heartbreak and misery Master 2.0. Especially if they are as seems here, a god not just trying to entertain themselves, but also entertain others. D&D requires a group, it’s co-operative, we see Rogue appear to adapt rather than (in any way immediately evident to us at least) externally force the story a certain way like a good DM. He never shoots the birds or threatens to or gets them in actual danger despite the in-character reasons to, and they looked like they all had fun - besides squished beak #5. But also sees NPCs as little more than set dressing as we ourselves would in a D&D game. What a dynamic that could be in a Pantheon god. It’s unique. Which is so valuable. A Chuldur slightly less interesting in that score but still.

If it is the Master I’ll be fine and accept it, but I want this, because it does double duty. It might as well have been a Master episode as it has most of the benefits of one (for me anyway), but also gives us all this new possibility and complexity on top of it. Those options are currently open and I want it.

It’s not popular, but I’m really pro trusting the writers. All of them. They’re smart. And I know these two just seem like randoms, but I doubt they are, they could be our new mothers, and I really think that while the Pantheon Rogue option is complex, it’s viable and has so much scope. If I hate people trying to see Rogue as flat Space Darcy because it shows zero belief in the writers, then I gotta do the opposite and entertain the option that they have intelligently created a deep and complex story, and have taken that to the end of the road. Even if complicated is by nature less likely than simple.

also lol I started The Essay at around 11pm sunday, wrote til gone 4am. Then woke up at 9:30am and wrote solidly plus edits until about 4am, and in-between edited the subtitles into that video. Am I ok? Physically, yes. Mentally, probably not. It is literally 10k and that’s why I made the joke. But I’ve done infinitely worse writing fanfics so...

EDIT:

‘Chuldur/Pantheon member The Rogue cosplaying the Master’ has just flipped into the dominant reading! Alert! Alert! Cus he’d never do this about him literally being the Master. If he’s acknowledging we’re having the feelings we’re intended to have, there’s another twist in it.

I officially move The Rogue Cosplaying The Master to 55% from 49% likelihood, and Rogue Is Just The Master down to 45% from 51%. You may wish to adjust your stock investment accordingly.

#replies #meta #pantheon rogue #tl;dr #pantheon!rogue can often include chuldur!rogue it just means cosplay #when i say rogue!master #i mean both just the master #or chuldur/pantheon!rogue playing the master #AS OF EDIT:#now not only is cosplay rogue my preference #but i also think most likely by a slight margin

21 notes · View notes

bonefall · 1 year ago

Note

Oooh, can you talk about the meta reason you rewrote the blizzard holly relationship and blackstar's backstory?

HOKAY

But I'm gonna preface this one; I hate Blackfoot's Reckoning. I think it's one of the most "solid" written books in the series and I still fucking hate it. I talk about authoritarianism on this blog a lot, and I think BFR was the one time that the series actually tried to textually address what they'd put on the page.

So TW for fascism, including discussion of an incredibly unfortunate quote from the book that is either an accidental or purposeful invocation of the Nuremberg Defense.

Blackfoot's Reckoning is a book that's supposed to delve into Blackfoot's backstory, what made him the cat he was during TPB. Throughout the book they're questioning, "what made him act the way he did?" And trying to drive home that Blackfoot needs to learn from his mistakes so that he doesn't repeat them

But, at the same time, they cling to their slimy Good and Evil dichotomy. So the book decides that Blackstar wasn't an Evil cat, no, he was just a Good Mislead Boy Who Loved His Clan. He's constantly lied to, mislead, people are murdered and he's duped into believing whoever gets framed, suppressing critical thought about his actions. They're trying to both write a "reckoning," but also make his motivations more sympathetic.

So in between questions of, "Is Blackstar really a Bad Boy?" and happy rewards for Blackstar when he goes through a memory, they've decided to shove in replays of Blackstar's most gruesome moments but this time he frowns :( and feels Guilty when he does them. In the eyes of the writers, if you feel sad doing hate crimes, that means there's a goodness inside of you actually.

And just like Clear Sky, all Blackstar "needed" was divine intervention. You can simply retcon in a "reckoning," even if it was never in the main series for the 10+ years the character was alive and active.

But it's not enough that Blackstar himself was getting a stupid retcondemption. No, see, they have to remind you that he was following evil people. The dichotomy inherently crunches away the nuance-- Good and Evil are inherent qualities. Tigerstar and Brokenstar are Evil People. Blackstar asks, "If I was following Evil People, what does that make me?"

The narrative concludes, "A Good Person, but mislead."

And because they can't have nuance with their Good and Evil dichotomy (or couldn't at the time), they failed to address the authoritarianism spectacularly. Think I'm reaching?

They literally wrote the Nuremberg Defense into their book. I'm not doing hyperbole, Blackstar word-for-word thinks the Nuremberg Defense, "I Was Just Following Orders," but then they bury it in a barrage of scenes showing he's Actually A Nice Guy who is Sad to do Bad Things. Either they attempted and failed to do something more meaningful with this book, OR they are so fucking stupid they accidentally included the famous Nazi officer legal defense for a character who DOES A HATE CRIME for a racist dictator.

What was IN TPB was a Blackstar who supported a massacre and expulsion against another group, was complicit in the use of child soldiers, and rehearsed a public execution for a mixed-race character. Like it or not, this is a really heavy subject... and what they decided to do was downplay every one of his actions, because he was good deep down.

And I just find that disgusting. This was ABSOLUTELY the wrong conclusion. They can't show Blackstar ACTUALLY being bigoted. They can't delve into REAL hate, or the idea that maybe he LIKED the power he had over people. Those are Evil People Things. He has to "know," deep down, that what he's doing is wrong.

He cannot have a real change, in spite of the title of the shitty book being Blackfoot's "RECKONING," because he is not bad to begin with.

So, Hollyflower and Blizzardwing.

To recap for everyone who didn't read BFR; Hollyflower is raising her three kits alone because Blizzardwing cheated on Featherstorm with her. Black only learns that he is an accident because he stayed up late one night and overheard an argument. By day, he gets bullied by Clawpaw specifically that he might be mixed-Clan and has to seethe over the truth he knows.

it's dumb. I'm sorry. This is dumb and boring, which is even worse

The war criminal was bullied as a child and that's why he did bad things :( He was good all along he was just sad :( shut up shut up shut up

The "bad environment" he was raised into was... having a single mom and being suspected of maybe being half-clan, but then learning that he isn't half-clan, and being indignant that he can't just share the information he knows about because it would make things complicated or something idk

None of this particularly contributes to his mindset as an adult because he does not HAVE a unique mindset as an adult.

He was just nebulously Sad and followed whatever strongman leader came along, constantly being tricked and bamboozled by outright lies.

"Omg WindClan killed Raggedstar >:0 ??? Oughhhhh that butters my biscuits... was it wrong that Brokenstar sent my baby nephew to battle? No, nevermind that thought that makes me uncomfortable :("

He never has any particular bigotries that were exploited, he was just tricked and mislead the entire time, while also being sad, because God Forbid Blackstar ever have been an 'evil cat'

He gets THANKED by his dead parents for keeping the secret??????????????????? girl ok.....

as usual the bully itself never really gets addressed

It was cheap and easy to just make Blackfoot's backstory the same shitty 'bullying' they write for most villains. This bullying is how he ends up bonding with Brokenkit, a villainous 5-year-old who says, "other cats don't matter" because he's eeeeeevil.

They're supposed to have a commonality connection, Blackstar who is Good Deep Down and Brokenstar who is Evil Deep Down, and that is supposed to serve as the reason why Blackstar willingly blinds himself to the incredibly obviously evil things that his superiors do.

His flaw isn't that he had bad intentions, it's that he didn't think.

FUCK that. FUCK this book. FUCK the Erins for trying to say that there are fundamentally good and bad people. That with the death of Tigerstar, of Brokenstar, of whoever, the society gets to return to 'peace' because now there's no Evil Tyrant to lead everyone astray.

The Erin's depictions of hard childhoods are sauceless. Dry, unbuttered, burnt bread. You want to see a BAD home environment? I'll SHOW you a bad home environment, not just a single teenager being rude. You wanna see the sorts of conditions that prime young people to joining radical causes for a sense of belonging? I'll GIVE you those conditions. Let's TALK about what bounces around in the head of people who aid and abet tyrants.

It's not this dumb ass sadboy shit I'll tell you that much

#warrior cats analysis #tw authoritarianism #tw fascism #bone babble #They were probably trying to address the sorts of people who do actually 'just follow orders'#but you can't DO that with a character who is in a POSITION OF POWER #That is a VERY different person from. say. a secretary or prison guard #Black is equivalent to some kind of General or Vice President position #And NO those people were NOT 'just following orders' that's why they hanged. That's why the defense didn't WORK #It's a MITIGATING FACTOR and it doesn't apply to ILLEGAL ORDERS #People as high up as this character were executed because they had power in this position YOU FOOLS #You can't be THIS high up and have no thoughts or underlying ideology

71 notes · View notes

pluto-the-chinchilla · 5 months ago

Text

Here’s the thing with Mary. And this is purely a personal thing, but I still stand by it. I disagree with other people who don’t like her and couldn’t relate so I wrote my own feelings down just to scream into the voice. I could’ve probably have done a better job if I rewatched her scenes but I’d rather not subject myself to that.

I’m not looking to debate, I’m not looking for engagement, I just… really hate her. Lol

I totally support her decision to choose safety and stability over Arthur. I’ve seen other haters and was disappointed by their reasoning. This is rational, and I completely am willing to defend her on this one. She’s not cut out for a certain life and she recognizes that! Not everyone’s an Abigail, a Sadie, or even a Mary-Beth, Tilly, or Karen. And certainly not a Grimshaw. And if she can’t adapt then why would anyone want to force her? I don’t! Sure maybe some gang women could’ve taken her under their wing, maybe they could’ve even gotten along with her and she could’ve saw her father for what he is and start blowing him off. But she still has a little brother to care for, and Jamie is a sweet soft person. They’re soft people but Mary, for all the vitriol I harbor for her, is not one to back down or get pushed around… with one deal breaking exception but we’ll get through there.

Asking for Arthur’s help despite all of the baggage between them… again, no harm no foul. Her little brother who both she and Arthur care about is in a bad situation. It’s the kind of situation where being a big scary outlaw comes in handy, and maybe she thought he needed sense from a man he looked up to. They certainly couldn’t ask daddy to be that to Jamie. And while it is audacious it’s still a fair favor at that point. Again, I think it’s endearing how she’s taken charge for Jamie. At this point in the game I feel disinterested in her but overall ambivalent.

The mission with her father and the resulting date is where I take a nosedive with Mary. I’m sorry but from start to finish she’s unfair, unreasonable, and outright does not care about Arthur or his feelings in this situation. Arthur already writes himself off continually in such a way that is barely challenged until he realizes he’s dying. So. First of all Mary is asking for Arthur’s help with a man who did nothing but undermine the relationship and talk shit about Arthur and devalued any merits he might’ve had and continued to do so during the mission — and got upset whenever Arthur talked shit back — and not nearly as much defend Arthur — and sorry but gameplay wise she is up Arthur’s ass and intrusive and nagging — like right up until that family heirloom is being pawned off she’s undoing the very thing Arthur got called to do. Just!!! Stop coddling your father while shitting on and wrist smacking the man who came to help you reel in this obnoxious disorderly pissant! And again, I know Arthur is an outlaw, but stop riding him when he’s trying to help and if DADDY is allowed to shittalk Arthur then Arthur should be allowed to throw anything he wants in his face.

I’m sorry but by the time it was over and done with I just don’t care about her anymore and any allusion to her for the rest of the story just pisses me off more as I wish for someone who actually shows consideration towards Arthur to talk to him more.

I wasn’t mad at her giving the thing back, I’m mad she didn’t do it sooner.

I’m mad they had that stupid “will they get back together” moment when they simply don’t have chemistry.

And with the date, maybe there’s just a certain expectation for women in the setting but watching the show with her especially after everything was a chore. But then…

Abigail acts kinda the same way at the picture show before John proposes? Like maybe if the mission hadn’t just happened I wouldn’t be bothered by it.

Anyway, I kind of don’t want any sort of decade with whoever reads this. I just needed to get my feelings out while I’m raw. I just finished watching my boyfriend play high honor yesterday and I’m still going Thru It.

#Mary gillis #mary linton #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #Arthur Morgan

10 notes · View notes

pixiecactus · 2 days ago

Text

sorry nonnie for the second time, and thank you for your patience!

but i think that i need to make this a separate post completely, but i'll start putting up the first part of your ask here, if you don't mind (i really hope you don't!)

to get people on board of what i will be talking about here, let me show you the quote once again and give you the link to the fanfic.

the supposed grrm quote is this:

“Okay so GRRM, arrived in Toronto yesterday for a book signing and unfortunately because of an exam, I was unable to attend (BOO!) so I asked my friend to ask him about Gendry and Arya’s “relationship” and if they would ever reunite again. His response was that Arya and Gendry have separate futures but whether they’ll ever meet up again, you’ll just have to keep reading.”

the fanfic is called the lost wolf and in chapter 21, you can find the first time that this quote was posted.

About G/A and the separate futures phase. Whoever published it was a very dedicated shipper who got devastated by his response. I don't think anyone would lie about that because this fan was genuinely very upset over this.

what i can say about this (for the second time because i lost what i had written as a response completely before) is that i recognize the username of the writer, and yeah, the fic was published in 2012, so we can say it was a different time... but i made the mistake of reading the fic in which the quote was posted, and this is not me trying to discredit the writer as a gendrya shipper, but oh my god, how i wish i hadn't read that fic at all; i have so many problems with it and the characterization.

i'm going to put the link to the google doc i made here, in case someone wants to share the suffering i went through. no one is obligated to read it, but i think that is going to help to support a little bit of what i'm going to write next about the author. but then again, let's put a little reminder here that everything i'm going to say is my own assumption and that this person seems to no longer have a presence on the internet or in the asoiaf fandom to defend themselves.

now here's my opinion, so if you have read my ranting session, i think that would make sense for you what i'm about to write next: i'm like 95% sure that the author was pretty young when this was posted. why? you may ask because the characters act in ways that are nonsensical to an adult with a fully developed frontal lobe. here's where my own experiences come into play to defend this opinion of mine, but i did write a fic like this when i was a kid; i was around 12 or 13 at that time, i'd like to say that it wasn't this awful in comparison, because there wasn't a rape storyline in it, but the main couple surely had moments where they were hating each other and threatening to break up because of a stupid and idiotic misunderstanding like "you didn't look my way when i was talking to you... so you don't love anymore" and the classic "i love you but i kissed x person or x person kissed me and now i think that i may love them and not you, my honest mistake" thankfully i didn't have an internet connection available at the time and my home's computer was back in my house (duh!) and i spent most of my childhood at my aunt's house, so i wrote those fics the good old fashion way with a pen and a notebook, and now those notebooks are lost to time and the act of moving out.

another point that is more credible than my own word is that in the author's note this person talks about going to school most of the time; that's the chosen word, i believe if they were in university they'd just say so. also this person said that they have a job, and i know that child labor laws are different around the world, but it seems that this person was based in canada, since the "quote" mentions grrm in toronto, so the info i could find about it told me this:

the lack of any other people's accounts that could collaborate on this info as truth, it's what does it for me. i think that if it was a truthful statement, we would have a lot more info about it. since the author's friend wasn't the only one who was at this book signing, there would be a lot more people around them both and within hearing range... but everything you see about this quote is a short copy and paste.

after all this time, why don't we have any kind of official source? it's been 12 years; that's more than enough time for it to appear somewhere; a reputable source would be the most ideal of all, though.

it's just people lie for attention all the time on the internet, and it's more common for kids to do it too... so i tend to lean that this is the case here.

i can admit that this "quote" absolutely wrecked me during my teen years, but now as an adult, i see it more as asoiaf's very own "my uncle works at nintendo" type of rumor.

i know that i'm not making a strong case because i don't have the intellect for it, so i think that this post is more food for thought than anything else.

now i promise you anon that the next thing i'll post is your ask with my answer, and i'll give the little spoiler that i actually agree with you

#would you believe me that i made a throwaway acc for this specifically #because i've never changed my email since 2010 so the doc had my deadname as the owner #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #house stark #arya stark #gendry #gendrya #arya x gendry #gendry x arya

6 notes · View notes

autumnwoodsdreamer · 5 months ago

Text

20 Questions for Writers

(Thanks for the tag @katebishopofearth 💛)

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

452,721

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Avengers, Mandalorian, Star Wars Rebels, The Bad Batch, HTTYD, and I really want to write something for Prospect

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lift a Sail

Head Above Water

Anchors

Black & Red I: The Early Days Chapter (okay, I was surprised this one made the top five)

The Lighthouse Keeper

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! I appreciate comments so much and I know I love it when writers respond to my comments on fics and give me DVD special features behind-the-scenes commentary and I love giving lore and insights and explaining things. (I feel crushingly stupid with everything I say, though… 🫣)

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I don’t know… I tend to cram the angst in the start and middle of a story but I compulsively aim for happy endings.

Maybe Lift a Sail? It ended with everything in the worst state (even though it was in the process of getting put right and I did put it right in the sequel! But. Yeah. It ended the angstiest.)

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

It’s a tie between The Lighthouse Keeper and Shadows Dancing on the Walls. They’re my happiest endings ☺️ everyone together, reunited, safe and sound

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I’ve been really fortunate. I’ve gotten some but not too much, mostly just a few nasty comments but it was from ones who I think just didn’t understand what my endgame for the story was or they misunderstood something and thought I meant something I really didn’t. (Hence why I preface my stories now with so many warnings and notes. They seem ridiculous but I have had people get upset at me for not following canon in a story explicitly tagged “not canon compliant” so… yeah.)

This very memorable time, I had someone tell me to stop writing from Grogu’s POV because it’s not interesting and they get disappointed every time they see a new chapter and find out it’s his POV (may the record reflect that out of literally over a hundred chapters in the series, I have written from his POV less than 10 times and this comment was on the third). What surprised me (and continues to warm my heart) were the other people who jumped into the comment thread and they didn’t bash the person (I wouldn’t want that) but they assured me that they enjoyed these chapters and encouraged me to keep writing what I wanted to write. I’m so grateful for that because I take everything to heart and I seriously considered deleting that chapter (even though I really loved it and was so proud of it).

9. Do you write smut?

No.

10. Do you write crossovers?

Oh, yeah. A lot of in-universe crossovers (I mean, Avengers is itself a crossover, technically, and what I write for Star Wars counts as crossovers because I take characters from various shows who haven’t met in canon and I put them in situations together.)

I have loads of ideas for actual crossovers. My sister and I are always creating these convoluted meetings between totally different universes (you should see our HTTYD/The Mandalorian crossover. It’s wild)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I believe some of my early stuff wound up on Wattpad.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

The aforementioned stuff got translated into Spanish, I believe. (Which… I can’t really argue with. I think that’s awesome; I can’t translate my stuff into Spanish, so I think it’s great that someone could and then more can enjoy it. But I just wish whoever did it had asked me first.)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

I help my sister with her fics sometimes. She’s a fantastic writer—her comedy is exquisite!

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

Oh, don’t make me choose. Ironwidow (Tony Stark/Natasha Romanov) is so precious to me, but I’ve gotten swept up by Djarwren (Din Djarin/Sabine Wren) and (the actual canon ships) TechPhee (Tech/Phee Genoa) and Kanera (Kanan Jarrus/Hera Syndulla) have my heart in a vice.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Probably the Black & Red series. And the Tough Act to Follow story. And The Face of the Lost. And…

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve developed a penchant for descriptions. I love painting scenes with words. Anne of Green Gables was my favourite book growing up and the way Montgomery describes the places always carried me away.

I also really love writing dialogue and capturing individual voices.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I struggle with making characters do or say things that I don’t agree with. Sometimes they have to do or say something (for the plot or that’s just what that character would do in that situation or interaction) but I don’t like it or don’t want them to do it because I’m a marshmallow and I want everyone to be friends

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

One word: italicise. That’s what I was taught in school and I love seeing it when others do it because it helps me see that it’s in a different language (I’m dyslexic. I once read a whole sentence and only figured out a few paragraphs later that it was in French. I thought I was just having a bad day).

(Of course, there’s always exceptions to the rule)

But, yeah, I think it’s great seeing other languages in a fic (real world ones or made-up ones like Mando’a, my beloved). It adds a lovely richness to a story, especially when the writer knows the language. I grew up in a multi-lingual community so reading something with characters coming in with different languages feels like home to me.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Doctor Who (like, fifteen years ago. It’s squirrelled safely away in a notebook, never to see the light of day)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Anchors.

No pressure tagging: @seleneisrising @desertbeskar @sytortuga @sotvtaughtmehowtofeel @quicksilvermad @the-kittylorian-writes @heatherthetiredwriter @visitbespin (and I swear there were more I thought of just a minute ago but my mind has blanked so, please, if you see this and you want to do a round yourself, go right ahead, you can say I tagged you)

#writing #writer #writers #ask game #tag game #20 questions for writers #ask autumn #my writing

16 notes · View notes

cleoselene · 8 months ago

Text

All The Concerts!

my mom wrote down every concert she's ever been to and it's a LOT, like in the triple digits

and it got me thinking if I could name every concert I've ever been to? I am fearful I might forget some tho my MS memory sucks but here goes:

New Kids on the Block

Boyz II Men/MC Hammer

Tori Amos (x7)

Switchblade Symphony

KMFDM with Nivek Ogre

VNV Nation (x2)

Air Supply (x2)

Terri Clark (lol I hated country when my family dragged me to this one, I was in my peak Snob Goth era)

Garth Brooks (happened much later when I had learned to embrace country)

Peter Cetera

Sarah McLachlan

The Editors

Radiohead (i hated this hahah, it was so fucking boring like their music. My friend bought the tickets and I had hoped seeing them live would make it click. It did not. I was bored and cold because it was raining in Seattle)

Coldplay (was so much better than Radiohead, seethe snobby indie rock fans)

Regina Spektor

The Decemberists (literally the worst concert I've ever seen. Again I did not buy the tickets but my friend who liked going to indie rock shows always bought two tickets in hopes of getting a date and I was her backup if she didn't. To be clear even though this and Radiohead sucked, I did have a great time with my friend both times)

Cake

George Clinton & Parliament Funkadelic

Puscifer

Barry Manilow

ummm now I'm drawing a blank but I KNOW I've been to more shows and the stupid brain damage is making me forget. I've always been to see a fuck ton of tribute bands at this supper club, and tbh they were almost all really good. The Pink Floyd one especially. Also lol in middle school once this club I was in had a band come perform and they were like... a hair metal Christian band that took mainstream rock songs like "Living on a Prayer" by Bon Jovi and changed the lyrics to like... "LIVING 'CAUSE I PRAAYYYY" and it was fucking hilarious. It's driving me crazy tho because I know there are more actual real concerts I am forgetting -_-

so i guess if you count all the artists I saw multiple times, it comes to... *maths* 28 concerts? Which tbh does not feel like nearly enough.

on the bucket list:

Vienna Teng

Brandi Carlile

Portishead (lol this will never happen but a girl can dream)

Beyoncé

Taylor Swift

TOOL

A Perfect Circle

The Amazing Devil (which is somehow even less likely than Portishead)

SO I'LL MAKE THIS A MEME. Tell me which concerts you've been to, and tell me which concerts you feel like you MUST see before you die. @deathinthesun @an-ivy-covered-summer @swiftzeldas @sylvieons and whoever else wants to do it~

I did get Taylor tickets last year HOWEVER they were... beyond atrocious, the seats. Like, upper upper deck, BEHIND the stage with like no visibility, not even of the screens, because again: BEHIND. I had like three people trying to get tickets that day and 2/3 of us failed but my friend succeeded and she was like "do you want me to buy these? they're upper deck" and I was like yeah yeah that's okay! We can look at the screens! And then I saw the "OBSTRUCTED VISIBILITY" thing and looked at the layout and I was like...kind of devastated, honestly? It's really hard for me to do an outing like that physically, it was outdoors in April (which translates to HOT in Florida) and I just didn't see myself able to endure 5 or 6 hours at minimum in the heat without like, passing out and dying. Not to mention I'm still really scared of being in a large space with that many people because my disease-modifying drug destroys most of my immune system. I ended up selling them, and... buying my vinyl collection lol. Taylor got a lot of that money again because I bought a lot of her records. I'm kind of bummed that maybe I missed my chance forever, but again, I don't think I could have physically swung it. Plus, of the three nights she did Tampa, the show I was supposed to go to had meh surprise songs while the other 2 nights had AMAZING ones, so I know I would have been salty about that too. ONE DAY THO.

#music #meme

8 notes · View notes

daenerystemper · 3 months ago

Note

That article about Dany’s eggs being Syrax’s eggs… it said “sadly the preservation of those eggs leads to the deaths of thousands of innocents at the hands of the Mad Queen”… this is why I hate reading articles about the show because it spews that bullshit from the shit season and starts calling Dany that wretched name. Fuck whoever wrote that stupid article.

the thing is, hbo & hotd desperately grab onto daenerys because of her outstanding popularity & impact within pop culture but also because george told them what an impact the prophecy has within his series itself.

unfortunately, they can't treat hotd like a retcon even though at this point it almost is which means that for every positive implication of daenerys being the prince who was promised, the true queen of westeros, we must also suffer being needlessly reminded that d&d are two hack writers who should have been blacklisted from ever working again.

4 notes · View notes

hirokiyuu · 2 years ago

Text

wow so when i wrote this i was like "hey this i'm only posting bc it's the first part to something much funnier" and then completely forgot to post the followup. so here have some dys>sol(>cal/tammy) bracelet scene pre-pre-pre-rship stuff. i love when kids are dumb and in love

it's ok (we'll find our way); 1k

When Sol crests the hill to where Dys is packing for his next trip out, the very first thing that Dys looks at are his wrists, because Dys is an idiot. Because apparently Sol is also an idiot, he is in fact wearing the databand, spinning it with his other hand as he stares down at it. “Hi, Dys.”

Thank fuck half the time he just nods hello at Solana anyways, because trying to unstick his jaw from where it’s glued shut sounds pretty impossible right now. Not that Sol even notices, really, still staring down at his dumb new bracelet. “Um. Can I… can I get another ten minutes where you don’t tell me you think something’s stupid?”

Thank fuck that him packing means he has an excuse to turn around. Against all odds his dumb voice doesn’t crack as he says, “Sure?”

“Someone likes me?” Sol blurts, instantly, and when he glances over, Sol is blushing. Stars. Dys kind of wants to die. “Like, I got this message on Vertumnalia, and apparently, um, this --” he holds up his wrist, like Dys hasn’t been staring at it since the moment he showed up “-- is from a, a secret admirer?”

Yeah, I fucking know. He bites it back. “Oh.”

“Someone likes me,” Sol repeats; he’s staring down at the dumb thing with stars in his eyes. “No one’s ever liked me before. Like, I mean, I thought, um. I thought Cal did, and I was…. I was totally wrong there, y’know?”

Because Cal is the stupidest person in the colony, yeah. Why anyone would ever pick Tammy with Sol as an option, Dys will never understand. “But…” says Sol, and the smile that had faltered on his face for a moment is back, small and sweet. “But I guess someone does.”

Okay. Maybe the whole thing wasn’t such a terrible idea after all, if it makes Sol smile like that. Or at least, that’s what Dys thinks for exactly two seconds, before suddenly Sol looks up at him and blurts, “Who do you think gave it to me?”

Nevermind, Dys wants to die again; he jerks back around, grabbing the nearest ration to shove into his pack so Sol won’t see him blush or whatever. Luckily Sol doesn’t actually seem to be expecting an answer, already barreling on ahead: “Like, I was thinking about it, and I really don’t know? Like, at first I thought maybe it was one of the Helio kids, but I don’t really know any of them that well, and whoever made this, um… I mean, it has a bunch of stuff I’m into, y’know? All the music and vids and stuff that I like?”

Next time Sol starts talking about Sanctuary Moon, Dys is turning on his holospeak and pretending he’s gone deaf. “So that kinda narrowed it down, I guess, to one of us? But like, obviously it’s not Cal--” because he’s an idiot, as previously established, and fuck but Dys hates the way Sol’s face drops a little just saying that “--and Nemmie’s super gone on that Vace guy already, so I knew it wasn’t her, and that just leaves --”

--oh fuck here it comes--

“--Marz?”

Dys stops. Puts his things down. Turns around. “...What?”

“I know!” Sol’s got his face buried in his hands, which is good, because Dys has absolutely no idea what kind of expression he’s making himself right now. “I know, I don’t like it either, like….” He drags them down his face before looking up at Dys; for a moment seeing Dys’s face he wilts, but then rallies again. “I-I mean, it’s a nice gift! It’s a really, really nice gift, y’know? It made me… it made me really happy, okay?”

Stars. Of course it did. There’s a weird lump in Dys’s throat when he hears that, but Sol, still charging stupidly ahead, doesn’t even notice. “But even if I liked girls, I wouldn’t like Marz, she’s way too mean and bossy and I just….” Sol sighs again, slumping over, and despite his words he’s still playing with the bracelet. “I didn’t even think she noticed me that much.”

“She doesn’t.”

Sol blinks, looks back up. “What?”

Fuck. It’s too late to take the words back. Dys takes a single breath, wipes his palms against his legs, and then manages, “It wasn’t from Marz.”

“Oh,” says Sol. He’s got that same puzzled frown he always gets when they’re up on the walls and he’s struggling through his homework. “Wait, really? But how do you know… that….”

The silence is deafening, as the frown gives way to slowly widening eyes. Dys, for his part, turns around and starts shoving all his stuff into his bag as fast as he can, who gives a shit about organizing right now? “Dys,” says Sol, a little unsteadily, and even without looking Dys can picture the way his whole awful handsome face has gone slack in surprise. “Are you my --”

“So what if I am?” he interrupts immediately, because if Sol actually says the words he’s going to die. His face is on fire. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Oh,” says Sol, still sounding totally bewildered. Dys should’ve chucked the stupid databand off the ridges when he’d finished making it; he starts buckling up the pack and ignores the fact that the top won’t go totally shut. When he glances back, just for a second, Sol’s gone red too, still staring at him, and in return Dys flushes even more and looks back away. “I-I won’t.”

“Good,” says Dys, reaching his limit. Before this stupid conversation can drag on any longer he grabs his pack and hustles away, not quite sprinting only because he can’t actually run with the stupid thing on. As he goes, though, he glances over his shoulder once last time.

Sol’s still standing right where Dys left him, head tilted back down to the bracelet, touching it gently the way he had been when he’d first walked up. On his face Dys can just barely make out that same small, shy smile as before. Dys nearly trips; Sol looks up; their eyes meet and for a moment that smile grows just a little before Dys whips his head back forward, his own dumb heart pounding so loud it’s all he can hear.

#Earnest Teenage Cringe! Earnest Teenage Cringe! they are Young Dumb And In Love!#if yall remember previous shit ive written this is the same version of sol that asks dys to marry him later WWWWW #dreamy idiot....... head in the clouds......... no thoughts just physical skills + max bravery #love in his heart <3 muscle in his body <3 air in his head <3 #i love when men are gay and stupid #title again from 2023 for no reason other than i wanted it to match the first one LOL #'what if you stop theme titling all ur exocolonist' what if u let me live my life #this is for both the person who posted dishsoap recently nad made me a little feral over them again #adn for emimi who i love 'why' I Love Her Is Why #i was a teenage exocolonist #how do you writing #dishsoap kiss! dishsoap kiss! dishsoap kiss!

35 notes · View notes

rubykgrant · 1 year ago

Text

(I'm feeling nostalgic... so here is the first genuine lovey-dovey Grimmons thing I wrote. It fits into the larger plot of my story-line, with Simmons getting lots of Character Development by realizing his parents are awful, and also Church and Tex are back with the AI Fragments because I said so. For Grif and Simmons, I really wanted the moment when they finally connect to happen in a way that almost mirrors the first conversation with them we see. I also wanted to show that they're still annoying dorks who bicker, but now cuddling and kissing can happen. They're each affection-starved for different reasons, and co-dependent as heck, so now they can finally enjoy each other~)

Finally, he was done with the paperwork.

Under most circumstances, Simmons enjoyed paperwork; it was a methodical process that allowed him to both focus AND zone-out. He was also very good at organizing and filling-out forms. The best kind of work didn’t just keep you busy, it was also satisfying. Right now… he just wanted it to be over and done with. He actually SKIPPED a few things, just to make it go quicker. 10 years ago, this would have caused Simmons to have a flustered panic-attack. Heck, it would have bothered him to leave something mildly incomplete 5 years ago. Well, he wasn’t the same Simmons as 5, 10, or 15 years ago… past-Simmons was done, and today-Simmons had more important things to worry about.

He just wanted to go see Grif.

They had FINALLY gotten used to just being able to hang-out again, now that all the… (what words were there to describe what had happened with his family?)… DRAMA with his parents was over. Simmons still felt so embarrassed about it; he’d not only been stupid, but perfectly willing to be deceived and used… but could you blame a guy for being tricked, when the ones tricking him were his own mother and father, and the trick in question was making him think they finally loved him, after years of being neglected and rejected? Simmons certainly blamed himself, but his friends reminded him often that it hadn’t been all his fault. Finally, he could do more than just resent his parents. He could flatly hate them, and simply ignore them. They were both gone and out of his life now, and it was on HIS terms. He was done with them, and looking forward to being with his friends again, being with GRIF again… but then more stuff happened.

More stuff ALWAYS happened.

At least it hadn’t been too much stuff this time. Some evil jerks who wanted to scan the brains of soldiers, thus creating new AI fragments… oh, and the evil jerks were using really funky boot-leg equipment that killed whoever got scanned. Really bad, and certainly a major inconvenience (especially when Simmons and the rest of his group had gotten kid-napped to be forced into the scanning process), but it had been a fairly straight-forward thing to deal with. Which they did. None of them had died, mostly thanks to the fact that Church and Tex could still do their own AI trick, plus some help from the handful of other AIs that liked to hang out in Church’s head.

Sigma had helped Simmons… which was a little unnerving at first, but ultimately OK. Sigma hadn’t tried to take over his body or destroy his mind. It had actually been kinda cool, working with the AI… and the results had spoken for themselves; fighting for your life was indeed a great motivator, but Sigma had made Simmons dig deeper for the things he really wanted.

Being connected with Sigma had been the reason for the majority of the paperwork. People wanted to know what it had been like, how it had worked… and while that was a fascinating process (one Simmons would normally like to discuss at length), some of it had involved thoughts that were very… personal. It was nobody’s business but his. Sigma knew, because he had literally been in Simmons’ brain. Simmons wasn’t exactly trying to keep any of this a secret, but still; his thoughts, his feelings.

(It had been overwhelming, but also exhilarating, looking at the situation in simple terms, these people had taken him away from everything he wanted, they had taken him away from everything he DESERVED, and he wasn’t going to let them get away with it, he wasn’t going to be pushed around, he was going to PUSH BACK, he was going to survive this situation and nothing was going to stop him, because he was smart enough to solve this problem, but he was more than just smart, he was strong, he was determined, and he had nothing holding him back…)

First they had to deal with stupid problems caused by evil jerks, and THEN he had to deal with all that paperwork. Simmons blew through it (he was internally getting a kick out of how much this would have driven his previous self crazy), and only cared about ONE thing; finding Grif. They hadn’t been able to see each other or even talk for WEEKS. That was horrible all on its own, but now… it was different. He was different.

In his search for Grif, Simmons winds up running around the facility, asking everybody he meets if they’d seen “the Orange One” (they all knew who the Reds and Blues were, but not everybody had the names down). Simmons finally finds a Grif, but it is the OTHER Grif (the one who wouldn’t recognize ANYBODY by their colors).

“Kai!” he calls out to her and waves to get her attention.

She stops in the hallway, and seems to send out irritated vibes as Simmons jogs up to her.

“Hey, I’m looking for your brother… where is he? I thought he’d stick around when we were done answering all the questions about what happened, but he’s gone-”

“Yeah, he doesn’t want to talk to you right now,” she says in a defensive tone.

That throws Simmons way the heck off. He blinks inside his helmet and tries to process what he just heard.

“What? Wh-why?” he honestly has no clue.

“Uh, maybe because you’ve been making fun of him ever since you came back?” she’s crossed her arms now, looking beyond angry even without her expression showing.

“I… I haven’t been making fun of him! I mean, we joke with each other all the time, playful insults and stuff, but I haven’t even been doing THAT lately… seriously, what’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Oh please, ever since you figured out he actually meant it when he said…” she paused there, trailing off. Simmons knew what she meant. It was the ‘I love you’. Grif had finally told Simmons how he felt, and Simmons had… misunderstood. No, it had totally gone right over his head. Because, despite how smart he considered himself to be, Simmons also knew he could be a moron. “… you’ve been PICKING ON HIM! Now that you came back and figured out how he felt, you’ve been picking on him, and just- just being a total ass-hat about it! So guess what, he doesn’t want to talk to you!”

That didn’t just throw him for a loop… Simmons felt like somebody just tossed him off a building, and now he was free-falling, flipping through the air at terminal velocity.

“WHAT? NO!” he HAD to make her understand. “I wasn’t picking on him, or making fun of him! I- I was FLIRTING with him! I thought that… I just wanted him to know I felt the same way, but without it being a big deal? I thought if I did a big romantic confession or something, it would make him feel awkward… so I was just trying to, like… flirt? But in teasing way?”

“OH. MY. GOD.” Kai dropped her arms… and then raised them up again, shaking her hands in front of his visor. “You were trying to FLIRT? That was you FLIRTING?”

“Um, yes?”

“DUDE! HAVE YOU EVER EVEN FLIRTED BEFORE?”

“N-no… not really?” his voice has turned into a meek little squeak.

“SO WHY WOULD YOU TRY IT NOW?”

“I don’t know…” in retrospect, Simmons can now see how stupid this had been.

“This whole time, my brother just thought you were mocking him! And you were FLIRTING! He tells you he loves you, and you don’t get it, then he tries to get OVER you, and YOU decide to start flirting… I can’t believe it… I swear, you are BOTH so HOPELESS!” she groans, then takes a deep breath. “OK, listen up. He freaking CONFESSED to you, after being in love with you for like… at least 10 years. He’s not gonna take you seriously if keep trying to tease him. You need to be DIRECT. You need to be HONEST. You need to do a BIG ROMANTIC CONFESSION.”

She pointed down the hallway to her right, and gave Simmons a shove in that direction.

“He’s outside, on the look-out corner over there. Now go and tell my brother you’re in love with him BEFORE I KILL YOU! AND NOBODY WILL EVER FIND YOUR BODY!”

“Right! Got it! Going to fix this now!” he was fairly certain she COULD get away with murder if she wanted, but Simmons was more concerned with finding Grif to make the guy UNDERSTAND.

This whole time… Simmons had been calling him cute, and lover-boy… but Grif thought Simmons was mocking him. He must feel AWFUL. That hadn’t been his intention at all. Why were they so bad at this? Why couldn’t they ever be on the same damn page? The short answer was, they were BOTH morons.

Simmons sprinted down the hall, dodging random people on the way… if they knew why he was running, they’d probably think this was like a scene out of a rom-com, and he was trying to catch somebody at the airport. Well, that was almost right; he certainly felt like if he didn’t find Grif and talk to him IMMEDIATELY, this was going to be a lost cause. You can’t expect a person to keep waiting, hoping, for years and years and… it had already been long enough. Simmons might even be just barely too late right now. Oh NO, he had to find Grif, tell him truth, he had to FIX THIS!

He should have said something years ago… but in his defense, Simmons hadn’t realized what was happening. How could he? In the beginning, he hadn’t even LIKED Grif, and that was supposed to be first step when you actually fell in love with somebody, right? You like them. Grif and Simmons had a very rocky start. By the time Simmons DID start to like him, well… what was he supposed to think? This certainly wasn’t a conventional relationship. Not that Simmons had a lot of experience with ANY relationships at all; his home life with his family had been a nightmare. They didn’t love each other, not in a genuine and affectionate way, and they certainly didn’t love him. He never had any real friends. Most kids hated his guts, either because he was too much of a little smarty-pants or not smart ENOUGH. Whatever the reason, nobody liked him. He never dated anybody either… he knew what dating was supposed to look like, though. Simmons watched movies, he read books. He could occasionally see real people who were really in love (or at least seemed to be). He just never got to experience it himself. How was Simmons supposed to recognize that he was falling in love with somebody, when he had no personal frame of reference for it?

His relationship with Grif had always been weird, but it was THEIRS. It was just like that with them. Eventually, Simmons realized he liked Grif, and they were friends despite all the bickering (maybe even a little BECAUSE of the bickering)… and you DEFINITELY shouldn’t be having cutesy-thoughts about your friend. Simmons assumed there must have just been something wrong with him… and if he ever let Grif know, it would ruin the weird relationship they had. Grif wouldn’t want to hang out with him or talk to him anymore, which was the worst thing ever, because Simmons DID like having him as a friend, so what was wrong with him? Why did stupid thoughts keep popping into his head, and why… WHY… did he occasionally have DREAMS that went a LOT further than “cutesy”? You don’t dream about your friends like THAT. YOU JUST DON’T. Something was wrong with him, but it wasn’t his fault, he had no control over dumb stuff his brain did while he was unconscious, and if he just didn’t say anything, then it would be OK.

After the incident on Chorus, Simmons had thought the whole problem would just be solved; something had finally happened, something that was outside of his control, and so he didn’t have to worry about it. He didn’t need to come up with a reason or an excuse. Something had happened, and it had happened with Grif, and now… he could stop trying so hard to ignore it or explain it. The choice was out of his hands. No more pressure to make a decision. They could figure out what this meant TOGETHER, and things would be fine… except no, nothing EVER was that simple. They got caught (thankfully, not in the act. Enough time had passed for them to recover some composure... and their clothes), and Grif had been beyond embarrassed. That had been like a slap in the face to Simmons; Grif didn’t want to talk about it, or even think about it. It was just a crazy situation, caused by Tucker’s stupid sword, and it was pointless to dwell on it.

Simmons dwelled on it, because his brain couldn’t let things go… and yeah, it had hurt. He’d been rejected before. Many times. He basically expected it whenever he started talking to another person, regardless of who they were. Was he trying to make a friend? Was he trying to impress an authority figure? Was he trying to ask somebody out on a date? Nobody ever wanted him. Which wasn’t exactly fun, but he was used to it. Now Grif didn’t even want him. For a little while after Chorus, Simmons had been terrified that Grif wouldn’t want him at ALL, not even as a friend. The two of them had both been rejects TOGETHER, and somehow that made things OK. Grif was so chill, and Simmons was so up-tight... they cancelled each other out. Or maybe it was more like they complimented each other. They clashed too, oh YES, but no matter how often that clashing happened, they still stayed together. In the after-math of Chorus, that wasn't true anymore. This is what he’d been afraid of, doing something stupid that would ruin their relationship (and just what WAS their relationship, anyway?).

Then they had arrived on Iris, and things had gone back to normal… Simmons didn’t hesitate for one moment to fall back into their old routine of talking, bickering, and joking. That was good, that was safe. That was what he wanted. Except, part of him wanted something else. Part of him wanted to say more when they talked, part of him wanted to get closer, part of him wanted… he wasn’t even sure WHAT. He just wanted, and all that WANT was directed at Grif. Why? You don’t want stuff like that from your friend. Why did Simmons even want Grif at all? What was wrong with him? When Grif had "quit" the group, Simmons internally felt broken. He kept doing what he needed to do, because what other option did he have? Just curl up on the ground in a ball, and die? He felt like doing exactly that... and it wasn't FAIR, it wasn't fair that Grif could just push him away and not care, it wasn't fair that Grif didn't NEED him around the way Simmons needed Grif. Thankfully that hadn't lasted; Grif came back. Simmons should have done something right then, told him him something... just SOMETHING, to make Grif understand... but Simmons still didn't understand it himself. He didn't understand why he felt empty without Grif around...

Well, Simmons had finally figured it out; he had been falling in love with Grif as the years went by (it was so obvious and simple when you said it like that), and he was too much of a dink to see that for what it was. He’d never been in love before, or been able to see an up-close example of what love really was… just second-hand glimpses at other people from an emotional distance. He had never been able to relate to any of it. When Simmons found himself right there in middle of it happening, he had no clue… it was love. Love. When you like somebody, and want somebody, and NEED somebody, and have all kinds of cutesy-thoughts about somebody, and dreams that are on the more mature side of romantic about somebody… there is a fairly good chance that you love them. The evidence added up. Simmons already had one missed opportunity with Grif, he can’t lose him again.

He finds the doors that open up to the large look-out area… and there is Grif. Standing over by the railing, still in his armor. It feels good just SEEING him again. It feels good knowing Grif isn’t far away, out of reach… but Simmons can’t relax yet. He still has to talk to him, and he has to make it good. Because that’s his best friend over there, that’s his favorite person, that’s the man he’s in love with (oh damn, his stomach rolls at that thought, but not in a bad way, he’s just such a bundle of nerves). Simmons has to tell him all that, and make sure Grif knows it is TRUE.

“Grif, hey…” Simmons slows down, and catches his breath, walking up to the railing. “I’ve been… I’ve been looking for you. We need to talk…”

“Yeah, well… I don’t wanna talk to you…” he doesn’t just sound sulky or pouty. Grif sounds downright miserable.

“Grif… c’mon, please… we can always talk to each other,” Simmons is trying not to panic… he can’t stand the idea of NOT being able to talk to Grif, especially when Grif is RIGHT THERE.

“FINE, whatever… you talk. I don’t got nothing to say,”

Simmons was going to ignore the bad grammar for now. Priorities.

“Grif, I… I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t understand what you meant when you said you loved me…” he sees Grif shuffle and tense up at the mention of this. “I’m sorry you had to put up with me being so oblivious for such a long time. I’m sorry that when I finally figured it out, I started teasing you… I SWEAR, I wasn’t trying to make fun of you! I was… look, I’ve never actually dated anybody in my whole life. You know that… so I’m just- I’m BAD at this, but I was TRYING to flirt with you. Really!”

Grif turns away from him, muttering.

“Yeah, right…”

“Grif, no! I mean it! I was flirting with you, I just suck at it!” oh, Grif doesn’t believe him. That’s not good… OK, time to get real. “So… I’m just going to tell you how I feel, honestly. Alright? I love you, Grif…”

“No you don’t…”

“Uh, yes I do?”

"You don't,"

"I really DO?"

“NO! No you don’t! Why WOULD you?”

“Why would I… Grif, how could I NOT love you? I like talking to you more than anybody else I’ve ever known in my entire LIFE! You drive me crazy with how annoying you are, but you also make me laugh so much I forget about everything else! When I make YOU laugh, it's like I really accomplished something, because nobody else is as good at it as me! When I’m with you, I feel so stupid, but you also make me feel like I actually matter! Sometimes, I literally can’t stop thinking about you! You take over my head! A big portion of my life practically revolves around you!” Simmons was trying to step closer to him… but he just kept moving away. “Grif, you’re my best friend. You know exactly how irritating and weird I am, and you still want to be around me. I know all your bad habits, and I can’t imagine NOT being with you. No matter how I try to picture what I want in my life, you’re always there. You make me happy, and I want to be the person who makes YOU happy. If I’m not in goddamn love with you, then I don’t know WHAT the hell is going on!”

Simmons took a step toward him, and tried to put a hand on his shoulder. Grif shook him off.

“Grif, I-”

“No! Just stop it! You don’t… you DON’T…”

Simmons refused to give up. Maybe if this was just about Grif not feeling the same way, he could let it go… but that wasn’t what was happening; this was Grif being so used to feeling unwanted, he couldn’t accept the fact that Simmons was truly in love with him. Grif could do whatever he needed to do for himself, he could go ahead and move on if that was what he really wanted… but first, he had to KNOW. He had to know Simmons really MEANT IT. Simmons needs to do something… something direct, something that can’t possible be misinterpreted.

He reaches up and takes off his helmet, setting it down by his feet.

That done, Simmons reaches over and begins to take off Grif’s. At first, Grif doesn’t notice what is happening, then he tries to jump away… but Simmons has his hand on the clasps, and Grif can’t escape. The orange helmet comes off with a few little clicks, and Simmons places it down with his maroon one.

Grif turns his head down, and leans away… like he’s trying to hide his face. Simmons can see that parts of his cheeks are shining in the sunlight; at some point during this conversation, Grif had cried behind his visor. Maybe out of frustration, or simple sadness… but either way, he had cried because of Simmons. This almost makes Simmons lose his nerve, it nearly causes him to choke and freeze-up, but he reminds himself that this is something he WANTS to do, something he NEEDS to do.

“Grif, look at me… look at me…” his voice comes out soft, but certain. Quiet and gentle, but still calm.

Grif hears this, and he can’t NOT listen… because he doesn’t get to hear Simmons sound like that very often. He hears Simmons whine, and squawk, and screech, and babble all the time. He also hears Simmons laugh, and complain, and grumble, and joke a lot. This was different. There was something PLEADING in that tone, and Grif can’t say no. There was also something very CONFIDENT in that tone as well, and Grif can’t ignore it.

He looks up at Simmons, and it feels like too much; Grif has been trying to forget how he feels but now here is this face… Grif sees his eyes, his hair, the way his smile pulls just a little to one side, and it reminds Grif of a million other things. Every conversation they ever had, every time they had a petty argument over nothing, every time they cracked each other up until it felt like they would die, every time they really DID almost die but somehow survived. Grif sees the metal that frames one of his eyes, and part of his jawline… and that reminds Grif of the fact that they match. Grif has patches of skin that came from Simmons, and right now Simmons can see that too. He can see Grif’s face, Grif can see his, and Grif sees so much MORE; Grif sees everything he knows about Simmons, everything he hates about Simmons, everything he LOVES about Simmons, and it feels like too MUCH.

“I love you,” Simmons tells him, that same tone… soft, certain, quiet, gentle, calm… pleading and confident.

It hits Grif right then; Simmons knows exactly what he’s saying… and he means it. Grif’s heart doesn’t just skip a beat; he practically feels it shudder in his chest (and really, this heart came from Simmons, he literally has Simmons’ heart, and it must still be in cahoots with Simmons, because right now this heart is TORTURING him).

Before Grif can think about what to do or say in response, Simmons is tilting his head down. Still holding on to Grif's shoulders, ever-so-slightly pulling him closer. Now Grif can’t see his face anymore… it is too close, just a soft blur… he's blocking out the sun...

Simmons is kissing him.

Simmons had leaned down, until there was no more room between them, and very softly pressed his mouth against Grif’s… except it was a little more than that… Simmons had parted his lips, just slightly, and when they touched, his lips closed around Grif’s. Now Grif was really starting to notice the way this felt, the smooth curve of Simmons' lower lip, the warmth, it was so light and gentle… just barely a kiss, but ABSOLUTELY a kiss. Since when did this nerd know how to kiss? Who told him he could do that? Grif’s breath stalls, and he doesn’t trust himself to let it go… it’ll come out as a choked sob of relief, and that might turn into something else, like a full-on crying fit, so instead he just holds it and shuts his eyes.

After a moment, that both seems like a long time and yet too short, Simmons leans away… now Grif lets himself exhale, and it DOES sound shaky and choked, as if he’s never been kissed before, as if he’s never kissed Simmons before (but Grif himself had insisted that what happened on Chorus didn’t count, it hadn’t been “real”, they should just forget about it… this was entirely different than Chorus; this wasn’t in a dark closet, this was out in broad daylight. They couldn’t blame this on a magical sci-fi alien temple that turned your brain off and turned the rest of you ON. This was deliberate, this was intentional, this was REAL).

Grif blinks, seeing Simmons again; he looks relieved, like he’s finally done something that he NEEDED to do. His eyes are still closed, and Grif can hear him sigh softly… no ragged, strangled gasp from him. Well, that’s not fair. Grif can feel something inside himself, what most people would probably call “butterflies in your stomach”, it was also like static electricity sparking in his gut, and now HE needs to do something, because that kiss had NOT been long enough, he’s been thinking about kissing Simmons in the back of his mind for more than 10 years, and if they can just do this now, if they can just kiss each other, then… then Grif is going to get the most he can out of it.

Grif’s hands come up to grip the edges of Simmons’ armor, roughly pulling him back, the metal on their chests making a clunking noise. He also brings their faces together again, their lips touching again, and REALLY kisses Simmons. Grif can hear him make a startled little hum, but it is a pleasantly surprised noise, and it turns into a sigh of gratitude. Actually... it was in the neighborhood of sounding like a moan. Now that he’s not in a state of shock, Grif can actually kiss Simmons like he means it… and he DOES mean it. He presses his mouth against Simmons', firmly but tenderly, and shows Simmons how kissing works; you nod your head into the movements of your lips, as smoothly as possible, until it feels like you're both floating in the ocean, letting the waves roll you. That's how you kiss somebody... like a wave. The way Simmons responded was warm, welcoming... slowly nodding along, matching what Grif was doing, and it really was like being in the ocean, rising and falling with the waves...

Those butterflies Grif felt before have escaped from his stomach; now he feels that fluttering all over his body, down his legs, through his arms to the tips of his fingers, filling up his head. More than just little sparks of static… Grif has a whole thunderstorm inside him, and he knows what it is; the feeling of wanting somebody, needing them, all kinds of other sappy words… yearning, longing… and finally being able to just HAVE something with them, finally being able to give part of yourself to them, and they want it too… you BOTH want this, you want each other. You HAVE each other.

This was just a little kiss, no big deal… except it was, because it was SIMMONS, and Grif has been talking to him for years, standing next to him for years, thinking about him for years, and he has been holding himself back from doing anything even remotely similar to this. No matter how close they were physically, Grif still made sure there was enough distance between them to be safe, you could still call it “platonic”, no touching except the occasional punch in the arm or a short bro-hug. No matter how close they were emotionally, Grif still made sure not to get too deep about his feelings, never reveal how much he thought about Simmons or how often those thoughts were tinted with something romantic. As close as it was possible to get to somebody… without being TOO close.

Whatever line had been drawn in the proverbial sand to separate them, it had been crossed… and erased. Grif was now so close to Simmons, they were touching. Not just touching, KISSING. Grif was kissing Simmons. Simmons was kissing Grif. After years and years and YEARS, this was actually happening.

When the thunder storm finally seems to be over, when the butterflies finally seem to calm down, Grif eases his mouth away… and hears Simmons make a sound sort of like a quiet, uneven laugh. Not exactly his nervous giggle, and not quite his I’m-so-tired-that-everything-seems-funny chuckle. This sounded a lot more satisfied and breathless… and just a little bit needy, like he wanted more. This was a laugh just for Grif, because Grif had kissed it out of him. He wants to hear that again and again, kiss Simmons again and again.

“I love you, Grif…” Simmons tells him, pressing forehead gently against Grif’s, eyes still shut, his expression one of simple contentment.

“… I love you too, Simmons,” Grif replies, and it occurs to him that he can do that now; reply, say it back, or say it first and then hear the reply. He hears his own voice crack, he can’t help it.

Just a few minutes ago, Grif had been resigned to giving up on Simmons… he couldn’t stand being around the guy anymore. It was too painful. Impossible to be friends with somebody who thinks how you feel is just a big joke, and now Grif couldn’t even ignore it and pretend nothing had changed. EVERYTHING had changed. He hated it, and he was just so DONE dealing with Simmons. No more having conversations that didn’t go anywhere, no more wasting his time pining away like a stupid middle school kid with a crush. He was too old to feel like this. It was time to just move on…

NOW everything had changed again. Simmons had told him he felt the same way. Simmons had kissed him. Simmons was still clinging to him, still nuzzling his face against Grif’s, still being so affectionate… it could just be like this, always. From now on, when they’re standing around, one of them can reach out, and then they can hold each other. When they’re talking, bickering, laughing, they can lean in and kiss each other. They can do all of that… suddenly having all these options is overwhelming Grif, all these possibilities that aren’t just silly little love-sick fantasies anymore, but REALITY.

“Well… that only took us, what? 10, 12 years to figure out?” Simmons softly murmurs.

A laugh escapes Grif, making him shake, and Simmons as well.

“We might be stupid…” Grif leans away just enough to properly look at Simmons.

“Oh, we’re major idiots, no question!” Simmons agrees, opening his eyes, smile spreading across his face. Grif grins back at him, and without knowing it, they both think ‘I love making him smile’.

“You’re supposed to be the SMART one,” Grif tells him.

“Yeah, but I remember what I said? You MAKE me stupid. My braincells are allergic to you,”

That does it, Grif explodes into laughter, and has to bury his face into Simmons’ neck (he suddenly feels like he desperately needs to be right there, right in the little spot where the kevlar under-suit ends and he can see the exposed skin. Grif is lucky he’s already so close, because for a sec, he was practically frantic to get his face to that little spot), where he both hears and feels the vibrations of Simmons laughing right along with him.

“You c-can’t ever do this to me again, man…” Grif tries to catch his breath, and also not move his face away, because he feels pretty good right where he is (he’s gonna have to try cuddling this close to Simmons again sometime, when they don’t have layers of armor in the way. He’s gonna have to cuddle Simmons a LOT). “You can’t make feel like I don’t have a chance, and then give me hope, and then…”

“No, don’t worry. No more miscommunications,” Simmons promises, turning his face just a little bit so it is nestled in Grif’s hair (thinking to himself how nice it is… they just fit together like this, each of them fills up the space for the other. He's going to enjoy holding Grif when they're both wearing something more comfortable, no armor to ruin it). “And I won’t… I won’t keep teasing you anymore-”

“Well, y’know… maybe that’s not so bad after all,” Grif mumbles in a weak attempt to sound nonchalant.

“What? Grif, you were so upset about it! That’s why you were avoiding me!”

“Pfff, dude, that was waaay back-”

“Way back 11 minutes ago?!” it is impossible to take that grumpy tone seriously, because Simmons still has his arms wrapped around Grif’s body, and he still has his face in Grif’s hair.

“Yeah, way back then. That was when I thought you were saying that stuff sarcastically… but now I know you MEANT it. Now I know all those things you told me weren’t insults, they were COMPLIMENTS. You can keep that up, that’s fine with me…”

“Grif- you are so- you’re such an ass-backwards, contrary, son of a-”

“Oh, are you gonna talk dirty to me, too? That’s cool, I can get into that…” Grif feels Simmons squeeze him tighter, and for a few seconds worries if maybe he stepped too far and really made Simmons mad (which would be horrible, they were FINALLY getting somewhere, somewhere GOOD), but then he hears Simmons sputter and feels those vibrations against his face again; Simmons was laughing.

Grif grins against his neck, and waits for the laughter to come to a slow stop.

“Grif, do you remember what I said when I realized how you felt?” Simmons asks him, still out of breath from left-over giggles. “I asked you what you loved about me, right? Like, if you loved my laugh or my eyes? You never answered me… that’s why I started trying to flirt with you. I thought if I said what I loved about YOU, it would make it easier for you to say what you loved about ME,”

“Oh… OK, I can kinda see why you might have thought that would work,” Grif isn’t sure who messed up worse… they both should have known better.

“So?” Simmons asks.

“So… what?”

“SO, I’ve given you PLENTY of compliments…” Simmons prompts him.

“Ah, OK, um… so…” Grif reminds himself that he’s already said the most important thing, this was just the icing on the cake. “Yeah… you asked if I loved your laugh… and I do, but not just that. I really… I love your voice, I love the way you sound, I love the way you talk when you get all excited about something you care about, I love when you get all ticked-off and rant about something you hate, I love how you sound when you’re explaining something even when I don’t understand it, I love your- what’s it called, the way a person pronounces things, the- the something, the speaking rhythm? No, that's not it...”

“My speech pattern?” Simmons offers helpfully.

“YES, your speech pattern, see I love that too, when you know the words for stuff I forget about, and I love when you mess-up words like a dork, it's cute, and yeah I love your speech pattern, that’s why I fall asleep when we talk all night, not because you’re boring, but listening to you calms me down, and… FUCK, I did the thing where I can’t shut up again!” Grif can feel a small pressure on top of his head; he’s pretty sure that’s Simmons kissing him up there, and that makes him realize Simmons might like HIS speech pattern, too.

“Grif, if you think YOU like to hear compliments, you need to remember who the hell I am!” this makes them both laugh again, and it feels so surreal; having a stupid little argument that was really more fun that anything, while also being snuggled tightly together, with Grif basically kissing Simmons’ neck because his mouth kept touching that little area of skin, and Simmons basically kissing Grif through his hair… this was something they’d done a million times, but never like THIS. It starts to sink in with Grif that he CAN just do stuff like compliment Simmons, and call him cute... the guy was VERY susceptible to flattery. In fact, he ate it up.

“… Grif? When we have the chance, do you want to go out on a date? Like, an actual, real date?” Simmons asks him.

“Oh, hell YES I do,” Grif doesn’t even hesitate.

“Good. We’ve got a lot of wasted time to make up for… jeez, we could have been boyfriends years ago, what’s wrong us?” Simmons is resting his cheek on top of Grif’s head, rolling his eyes at how ridiculous this whole journey has been.

“I think we already established the fact that we’re major idiots…” Grif reminds him… then realizes something. “… boyfriends?”

“Yep,” Grif feels Simmons nod his head gently.

“I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yep,”

“Your MY boyfriend?”

“Yep,”

Years of not liking each other, then becoming friends, then accidentally falling in love but not doing anything about it, then Grif trying to finally tell him only for Simmons to miss his point, then feeling like Simmons was going to drift away forever… and a few minutes ago, Grif wanted to get Simmons out of his life. Now they were boyfriends. Just like that, everything had changed. If there WAS some kind of divine creator out there with a plan, they REALLY liked screwing with Grif.

“That sounds pretty good,” Grif admits, finally allowing himself to separate from Simmons (because now he doesn’t feel like he’ll somehow lose Simmons if they aren’t clinging together).

“It really does,” Simmons presses his lips to Grif’s forehead briefly (both of them having internal moments of glee at the realization that they can do that now; share casual little kisses… because they were boyfriends), and then bends his knees to pick up their helmets.

***

While all this was going on, Kai had been inside the building losing her mind.

She was sick and tired of always having to wait on the side-lines while her brother had some emotional break-down… if he had listened to her before when she gave him advice about his love life, all these problems would have been solved. Heck, if Dex actually had the nerve, he would probably be MARRIED to Simmons by now… but nooooo, he had to be so pathetic and ignore his feelings (and ignore the fact that Simmons was OBVIOUSLY just waiting for him to make the first move. Not that Simmons knew that’s what he was waiting for, because he was pathetic too). She was surprised he hadn’t died of dehydration, her bro was so thirsty and refused to take a sip even when there was a tall drink of water RIGHT THERE.

She finally couldn’t take it anymore. She had to go out there and see what was happening. If they were fighting or not talking properly, she was gonna walk up and smack them both!

Kai heads down the hallway, and starts to step out through the doors… but then catches herself.

The two of them are standing out there. She can’t hear what they’re saying, but from the way they’re turning their heads slightly, she can tell they are talking. It seems like a comfortable conversation, whatever it is. The whole scene looks like something typical for the two of them, except… they’re holding hands.

They’re standing out there, together, talking, and holding hands.

Kai has no clue what finally did it, who said what, how it happened, but LOOK!

She quickly steps back inside, letting the doors quietly close. Kai barely takes a few steps away from the door before she has to stop, her knees almost give-out on her, so she just pauses there in the hall for a moment, half-bent over, holds her hands up in triumphant fists, and lets out a long sound of pure happiness-

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

-because her brother was out there holding hands with somebody! Not just anybody, but the specific somebody he’s been madly in love with! She wouldn’t have to kill Simmons after all! Kai leaves, practically skipping back down the hall, letting the two of them have their romantic little moment out there. They deserved it. They deserved each other. They had certainly waited long enough for it.

Ooh, she had to start thinking about fun date-night ideas for them… and ask Donut to help her pick out cute matching outfits for them to wear… and… and… NO, WAIT! She still had to be patient; those dorks out there only JUST got together, and everybody who knows them was bound to freak out about it (Kai hadn’t even been there for the beginning of this long and nonsensical romance, and she was freaking out a little herself). Dex needed some time to enjoy himself in peace. She would wait for them to tell the others (and once Tucker knew, he was probably going to start planning their wedding… if he hasn’t already). THEN she would start giving them dating suggestions~

#red vs blue #rvb #grimmons

19 notes · View notes