#i wrote most of this novel in the tags before going 'fuck it' & putting it in the post body

[untitledgoosegay]

This Is A Dimidue Propaganda House

"It would be a shame if the scars I got from protecting you were to fade."

"Irreplaceable. Cherished."

"Yes! You will call me your friend again and again, no matter how many hardships I must endure ... "

"Whether it's duty towards the living, or guilt for all those we have lost ... such burdens are not yours to bear by yourself."

"Despite all, I count myself a lucky man."

"He has always been too kind to be king. He has always felt too much for the weak and the dead. That is exactly why I look up to him." -- fun fact a closer translation of that last line is "it's exactly because he's that kind of man that I came to adore his Highness." Thank you teaspoon translations

every moment in the Academy arc where Dimitri urges Dedue to accept comfort and emotional support, while Dedue tries to push him away; establishing a professional wall between them that's never been there before; even in the face of Dimitri's hurt and confusion, because Dimitri knows him, knows Dedue is lonely and hurting, & he knows better than to believe Dedue genuinely wants to shut him out, but what else can he believe when it's the only thing Dedue will tell him?

& meanwhile Dimitri refuses Dedue's attempts to care for him, or make sure Dimitri takes care of himself, because that's how Dedue expresses love and the way that it's safe for Dedue to express love; Dimitri believes he's only doing it out of duty or obligation, and Dedue insists that's true, because he can't afford the emotional honesty to admit what he will five years later -- that he wants to accept Dimitri's friendship and care in return

the DRAMA. the YEARNING. the PINING. the ROME ANTS

the way Dimitri talks about Dedue to anyone who'll listen with this glowing affection and admiration. Not praising his strength or his dedication, no; not te things Dedue fronts, not the walls he puts up, but his kindness. His gentleness. Someone Dimitri is proud to know, proud to call his --

...

-- vassal.

the way that Dedue has known about Dimitri's rage and psychosis since the day they met, and loves him not despite but because of it. because alone among the Lions, Dedue understands that Dimitri's fury is inextricable from his kindness, his compassion, his deep & abiding love. what sort of kindness could witness the things Dimitri has, and not rage? what love could survive the greatest horrors humanity has wrought and not become monstrous?

the way they know each other as flawed and vulnerable in ways that no one else does, or is allowed to

the way Dimitri always, always, even in the deepest depths of his vengeful fugue state, begs Dedue to prioritize his own life -- making Dedue the only character besides Claude who can survive every route without recruitment; the way Dedue's survival on Crimson Flower determines whether Dimitri dies snarling and clawing and cursing to his last breath, or quietly, comforted, granted some measure of peace in his final moments

the way Dimitri shatters when he believes Dedue's died for him. the way Dedue's return at Myrddin Bridge is the first time since the timeskip (since the flame emperor reveal, honestly) that Dimitri shows any sign of hope, any affection or worry; "if you follow me i'll use you until the flesh is stripped from your bones," he tells Byleth, then pleads with Dedue not to throw his life away again

(another fun fact: in the JP text, the word Dimitri uses to call Dedue irreplaceable is the same one he uses when he's proposing marriage to Byleth)

the way Dedue responds with this soft surprise -- I don't think he realized until that moment just what his 'death' did to Dimitri. & he agrees readily, which I don't think he would have prior to the timeskip -- but five years of recovery & reconnection with other Duscur survivors, the chance to join a community of his own people, and to build relationships and a future for himself untouched by Dimitri's shadow, have nurtured in him a resilience and peace that he never had at Garreg Mach. healing scars where there once were roughly-bandaged wounds. he has a place to go back to, now. he has something to live for, not just die for.

-- and yet -- from that community, from those people who loved him and protected him and brought him back from the brink of death -- Dedue still chose to return to Dimitri's side. he didn't have to. the raw mathematics of any debt to Dimitri were paid. as far as anyone among the Lions knew, he was dead. he could have disappeared and no one would ever have been the wiser

but he still wants a future with Dimitri. he is building a future for himself, and he wants Dimitri to be in it.

and so he comes back

and so they find that future together. they live out the rest of their days, together. professional in public, but "like family" in private (which imo is a compromise of personal preference more than politics -- Dedue is a very private person, and post-AM Dimitri is arguably the highest-profile public figure Fódlan has). buried together.

Your Honor They Are In Love

I didn't put Byleth because I wanted to see who it was outside of them. I only put Blue Lions because I wanted to see what it would he like for the lions only. If you selected any/all/poly please put it in the tags, but it's strictly just Blue Lions.

My personal choice is Mercie, but if I had a second person, it would be Felix.

By the way, I do not want any ship hate on this. Idc if it's a passive-aggressive "I hate this ship with a passion" followed by the ship you really like. Also, I forgot to add none to the poll. If you don't have one for it, reblog this in the tags, but do not put the ship you have for him outside of the blue lions. This is strictly for blue house characters.

[valyrfia]

RE: This ask on fanfic, fandom, and lestappen

(preface with, I love fanfic and fandom, and I've written for very big and small)

I have never experienced such bad fandom etiquette as I have with 1633. I wrote one multi chapter fic for the ship and 99% of ao3 comments I got were people asking when I'd publish the next chapter, which has always been a big no no in fandom. I deleted the fic because it felt bad that people didn't want to engage with what I had written, but, just ask about my update schedule. Also, people changing the date of their published fic to be more recent, so, it appears at the top of the 'recently updated page'! I have never seen this in any fandom before now! AO3 isn't Instagram! If you tag correctly, people will find your fic if they want to read it.

People are pushing 1633 constantly in very public spaces like Twitter, Insta and TikToK, where we know these drivers have accounts and look at comments/posts about them or on their own posts. Just today on Twitter I see Dan Howell (which what a fucking weird intersection of my past and current interests) being asked at a public panel about lestappen, just because he's mentioned liking F1 in the past. I know it gets easy clicks and engagement because it is popular. But, it's so far removed from behaviour that was ever considered acceptable in fandom.

I remember, back in 2013/14 there was a huge backlash to people bringing up fictional ships to actors/writers. There was discourse after every Supernatural or Teen Wolf fan forum/con panel when someone would inevitably ask about Destiel or Sterek. People would argue whether fanon and ships were appropriate to ask the real people behind the show about.

RPF is fine, I have written, currently write and will continue to engage in RPF spaces. But, there are boundaries that you must keep if you are going to engage with it. Tumblr and AO3 have always been considered locked fandom spaces. If a person goes onto these sites and searches themselves out, that's on them. But, it's implied in fandom that you keep to just these spaces or private chats

(personally, I'm sad I just missed out on the livejournal days... I got into fandom when everything was being moved over from there and fanfic.net onto ao3)

I understand younger social media users are used to an algorithm finding content for them. And on sites like Tumblr where the algorithm sucks or ao3, which doesn't have one. You have to search out the content you want yourself. Liking and kudos isn't enough, you actually have to engage in meaningly conversations and comments if you want to make friends. That can be scary! But, it's a soft skill that is slowly getting lost and with it fandom etiquette is going down the drain.

This is like...one of the last big serious ask I want to reply to on this topic because not everyone agrees with me (which, fine), but OP you put a lot of time into typing this up so I will honour that.

I think fandom, much like a lot of other things nowadays, have become less about fun and more about hitting a certain number of likes and interactions. That's why people push Lestappen on other social media even though most of us have explicitly said "can you not, thanks". The changing the date of the fic to push to an 'algorithm' infuriates me and is a personal pet peeve of mine. There's one that's doing that now on the Lestappen tag and I've point-blanked refused to read it literally BECAUSE of the date changing. People will read your fic if they want to, constantly pushing it to the top of the 'Date Updated' list does nothing except piss people off.

I will say I think the fictional ship discourse of 2014 was maybe driven in part by the fact that being gay was still seen as something much more 'novel' than even now. If we think about when marriage became legal in the US and all that...I still think though that it shows a level of self-awareness and self-regulation that we've lost in fandom. As my partner and I often to lament to each other, we've become so individualistic that people have lost the concept of shame. It's an idea that YOU are the exception and something should cater to YOU, instead of the other way round. In the case of fandom, this comes out as people acknowledging fandom etiquette in an abstract way, but still logging into their twitter account (WITH THEIR FACES ATTACHED! WHICH! THIS IS A TANGENT BUT IT BAFFLES ME! WHAT HAPPENED TO DIGITAL FOOTPRINT!) and posting about RPF. Fandom is not an abstract entity, fandom IS the people that interact with it–from authors to artists all the way to those who consume the content.

Also, I also JUST missed out on the lj days–the great migration was happening just when I was getting involved in fandom and I can't help but feel like I missed out on something special.

[vykio]

melt and pour into my blorbos

or writerly ephemera but i didn't know if I could steal mari's title - like I could have asked but I didn't lmaooo - OK I did ask and she said I can do the alternative title HAHA <3

Mari @decaflondonfog tagged me here in this tag game!

✨ share some bits little bits of you, easter eggs, memories, etc. you have left scattered in your fics or art. if you fancy it, tag a pal. ✨

📱“I’m not afraid of the word orgasm, dumbass,” he says sharply. He is, admittedly, very nervous about Kevin’s proposition and feelings being bared to him like this. It’s not that he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s just not as good at expressing his feelings. It’d been a problem in previous relationships too. “Don’t you have a catch to flight—flight to cash—catch? Fuck you,” Aaron says, flustered, when Kevin laughs.

I love to like. Roleplay scenes before I write them down and I did this a lot for experts on communication. Aaron's stuttering is something I actually did so I decided he could have it - it worked out well to show how nervous he was!

🍫(There is still an on-and-off argument in the Foxes’ group chat on the worst and best ways to make hot chocolate that is always brought up by Kevin, who prefers milk, and who won’t leave Aaron alone, who is of the opinion that water is easiest.) (The secret third option—water and milk, frothed to delight—is presented by Neil, and when he reminds everyone of that, Aaron does approve of Kevin's belligerent contributions.)

This part of crossing lines, running reds - this is an actual real ARGUMENT that resurfaces in my friend group like every year and I AM Neil and I'm RIGHT !

❤️‍🩹But Jimin, as he tangled a hand in Taehyung’s mussed up hair, and arched his back, wasn’t thinking about the slow drag of his boxers over his hips, or the tantalizing gaze Taehyung fixed upon him.

Over him, above the the noises they both released, Jimin could hear the thoughts that were pushing to the forefront of his mind, past the barriers he put up to keep them at bay. Jimin, as Taehyung sucked him into his mouth, could only think about how this wasn’t enough for him.

Mmm. This whole one was about that period I was in love with my friend. We fooled around and I thought I wanted to be more to them, but they didn't feel the same way and they were honest about it, even though all the signals pointed to yes in my head. That was the saddest part of our friendship, I think, because I hadn't known how to get over it, but we're OK now. :)

☕when he writes, it's as if he is writing a novel. or a short story, more like. with periods, and commas in their proper places. the like a great, famous writer would. jungkook doesn't know any, so he can't compare. so when yoongi speaks, he is reciting it, his short story, narrating, without the fluff, only the most important details to take you away. as if he can only fit everything he has to say in four pages, no more.

'how do you do that?' jungkook asks him once, sitting across him in their favourite cafe downtown (or maybe not their favourite, but the one they visit the most). he's carefully spooning foam out of his cafe mocha, his go-to drink when he isn't sure he really wants to drink or eat anything. the mugs they use here are so huge, he's sure he's not going to finish it.

Oh! Two things about cafe mocha sans foam: 1) I wrote this because I was - and probably still am, in many ways, but different ways from 2016 i think - insecure about my writing. 2) I HATE foam i hate frothed milk the way baristas do it but i always always forgot to ask for lattes without foam LOL so jungkook scooping it out, that was me for real. there was a lot of me in this but I stuck to the first 2 things.

Thanks sooooo much for the tag, mari! If you want to participate, please do! :) @starsandgutters @merceyca @neh2351983 @moondal514 @wyverningx

[miss-ingno]

Everything I Wrote In 2023

...or at least the bits I posted to Ao3 :D 21 works with a word count of 71,998 total! I'm honestly surprised, I thought it was much less considering how little I felt like writing between work and health issues sapping my energy.

I'll sort these alphabetically by fandoms and within the fandoms chronologically from first posted to last.

Assassin's Creed II Title: Return To Sender Ship: Claudia Auditore/Desmond Miles, Claudia Auditore & Ezio Auditore Words: 3.5k Tags: Epistolary, Time Travel, Marriage, POV Outsider (as in Outsider on the Time Traveller PoV), In-Universe Documents Summary: Over the years, Ezio and Claudia exchanged many letters. These are the ones concerning Claudia's husband, then-stranger, Desmond.

Deja Vu by Dreamcatcher (Music Video) Title: All Our Memories, They're Haunted Ship: Jiu/Yoohyeon Words: 1.1k Tags: Memories, Regret, Grief/Mourning, the Queen is dead; long live the Queen, Dark Yoohyeon, Murder Summary: There are no witnesses to her ascent. There is no one she trusts not to stab her in the back. Title: Our Love's A Curse Ship: Jiu/Yoohyeon Words: 833 Tags: Backstory, Happy with A Bad Ending, Off-screen Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Yoohyeon's descent into madness, Assassin Yoohyeon Summary: Yoohyeon worked hard to create a perfect world for Jiu and herself. But perfection isn't forever.

Detective L Title: Both Is Good Ship: Ben Jieming/Luo Fei/Qin Xiaoman Words: 1.5k Tags: Relationship Status: It's Complicated, Pre-Relationship, Developing Relationship, Background Case, Post-Canon, Pre-Poly, Polyamory Negotiations, Insecurity, lbr they all have their issues but they love each other for who they are and that's what's important Summary: The day before the police ball, Ben Jieming and Luo Fei discuss who should accompany Qin Xiaoman. Unbeknownst to them, she already made her choice.

Dimension 20 - Mentopolis Title: Where in Mentopolis are the Prefrontal P.I.s? Ship: Ensemble Words: 800 Tags: Logic Grid Puzzle, Worldbuilding, Post-Canon Summary: It’s the Grand Opening of Daniel Fucks’ new Emporium of Exquisite Pleasures, but none of the other Prefrontal P.I.s have shown up! However, through his criminal network, Daniel hears some rumours about what they’re each up to. Can you help him find them and drag them away from whatever they’re doing for this most important of all events?

Granting You A Dreamlike Life Title: The Hero Returns Ship: Hong Lan & Luo Fusheng, implied Duan Tianying/Luo Fusheng Words: 826 Tags: Late Canon Fix-It, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, PoV Tianying Summary: The first thing Hong Lan does as head of the Hong family is to order Luo Fusheng back home.

Grimm (TV) Title: Back In A Spell Ship: Sean Renard/Juliette Silverton, Nick Burkhardt/Juliette Silverton, pre-Nick Burkhardt/Sean Renard/Juliette Silverton Words: 7.2k Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, POV Juliette Silverton, former Hexenbiest Juliette, Nick is not a Grimm yet, Identity Reveal, Magic Revealed, Dinner Date with Ulterior Motives, Secrets Summary: Going back in time has a price. Juliette will make damn sure it was worth it. Title: Sting Of Love Ship: Nick Burkhardt/Monroe Words: 1k Tags: Kissing Slice of Life Action/Adventure Wesen of the Week Episode Style Summary: Monroe accompanies Nick on Grimm business.

Guardian (drama and novel) Title: Growing Pains Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Da Qing Words: 2.5k Tags: Case Fic lite, Haixing-Dixing politics, set between Episode 4 and Episode 5, Early in Canon, Zhao Yunlan takes a bullet for a Dixingren Hurt Zhao Yunlan Protective Shen Wei (Guardian) Morality Summary: During their most recent case Zhao Yunlan's superiors put him in a difficult position: follow orders, or summon Heipaoshi to hand over the Dixingren? Title: Telenovela Ship: one-sided Zhao Yunlan/Zhu Hong, background Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan Words: 315 Tags: Slice of Life, Zhu Hong gets to be snake-y, Pining, Denial Summary: Zhu Hong watches dramas in her free time. Title: In This, As In All Things (WIP) Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Da Qing Words: 13k+ Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Time Travel: Post-Canon to Pre-Canon, Secret Identity, Identity Shenanigans, Established Relationship, Family Issues Summary: Given the chance to right the wrongs of the past, Zhao Yunlan and Shen Wei go back to before they met (again). But how much can they change faced with a very different SID than the one under Zhao Yunlan's lead? Title: Ruffling Feathers Ship: Zhu Hong & Da Qing & Ya Qing Words: 7.1k Tags: Post-Canon, Handwavey Fix-It, Yashou Politics, Case Fic, Zhu Hong and Da Qing team up to solve a theft, Yashou High Chief Zhu Hong, Yashou Worldbuilding, Mistakes Are Made, Zhu Hong is new to this job Summary: Zhu Hong is more than ready to delay her responsibilities for old times' sake when Da Qing approaches her about his missing bells. But the case takes them smack-dab into internal Yashou politics and Zhu Hong's mettle as High Chief is put to the test. Title: Two Of A Kind Ship: Ya Qing/Zhu Hong Words: 12.9k Tags: Time Travel Fix-It, Pre-Canon, Yashou Politics, Yashou Worldbuilding, Pre-Relationship, PoV Ya Qing, mentions of the Time Loop, Background Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan, mentions of the canonical ending, Antagonist Ye Zun, BAMF Ya Qing Summary: Zhu Hong approaches Ya Qing with a warning from the future. Ya Qing is... intrigued despite herself. Title: Freezing Ship: Chu Shuzhi/Guo Changcheng/Ye Huo Words: 507 Tags: Character Study, Missing Scene, Episode 19 Summary: Stuck in the experimental lab, Chu Shuzhi has time to contemplate his newest companion. Title: Days of Splendour Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Zhaodad & Zhaomom (novel) Words: 1.9k Tags: Wedding Planning, Wedding Fluff, Post-Canon Summary: Zhao Yunlan knows what he wants: Shen Wei, at his side, forever. Title: Happy Hour Ship: Shen Wei & Shen Wei's students, Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & SID Words: 975 Tags: Background Case, Shen Wei's terrible lies, undercover at a bar Summary: A criminal, a professor, and a cat walk into a bar. The professor's students did not expect to be part of the joke. Title: An Intimate Touch Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan Words: 2.2k Tags: YOHE, Facial Shaving, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Almost Kiss, Domestic Fluff Summary: Shen Wei helps Kunlun shave his beard. Title: Gossip Mango Ship: Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan & Shen Wei's students Words: 1.9k Tags: Social Media, Episode Related (1-8), Canon Compliant, mentions of canon suicidal ideation and murders Summary: Not only does Dragon City university have a great and sophisticated study program for many different majors, it also has a flourishing social media site for students to discuss their studies social activities recent events.

Harry Potter Title: To Seek Knowledge Ship: Hermione Granger & Luna Lovegood & Ginny Weasley Words: 4.4k Tags: Female Friendship, Spell Theory, Bullying, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Hogwarts Second Year, Golden Trio (background) Summary: A precocious pre-teen on a quest for knowledge ends up changing the future. She even makes a friend or two on the way.

Naruto Title: Adventitious Ship: Haruno Sakura & Hatake Kakashi & Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumak Naruto Words: 5k Tags: Developing Friendships, set after the Wave mission but before the Chuunin Exams, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, in which Team 7 grows closer and Sasuke doesn't defect, Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Have Issues (don't worry they're working on it), Mission Fic (sort of), no literal geese were involved in the making of this fic, in which Team 7 accidentally topples several villains' plans Summary: To keep Team 7 busy, Kakashi-sensei sends his students on a wild goose chase. Much to his dismay, they actually find a golden goose.

长公主在上 | Zhǎng Gōng Zhǔ Zài Shàng Title: By Your Side Ship: Li Yunzhen/Gu Xuanqing, Li Yunzhen & Li Chenglin Words: 2k Tags: Post-Canon Court Politics Dom/sub Undertones Established Relationship Relationship Development Summary: After tricking the Chancellor into publicly rebelling, Li Yunzhen retires from politics.

[moorishflower]

I got tagged by @softest-punk to talk about BOOKS

Rules: 10 (non-ancient) books for people to get to know you better, or that you just really like.

Idk how we're defining non-ancient but I'm going to assume nothing pre-1400s just because people are listing Shakespeare? Which means I can't include Beowulf :< But know that Beowulf is on here in my heart

The Dark Elf Trilogy by R.A. Salvatore. Hoo boy. Baby's first fantasy novels. I fell in love with Drizzt Do'urden LONG before I knew what being edgy or goth was, and I was absolutely fascinated by the intricate politics of Menzoberranzan, but even MORE fascinated by the Underdark. This terrifying, harsh alien landscape all in darkness, lit only sometimes by phosphorescent fungi, populated by monstrous creatures and inhuman beings with complex cultures...I was actively less interested in the Forgotten Realms books when Drizzt left the Underdark! To this day I'm really fascinated by survival literature and hostile landscapes, and I find things like deserts and cave systems to be extremely beautiful. Also, I had a crush on Jarlaxle, but so did everybody else, so.

Don Quixote (El ingenioso hidalgo don Quixote de la Mancha) by Miguel de Cervantes. I originally read Don Quixote in college, and I fell in love with how it played around with the idea of stories, and how we use them to view the world. I wrote an entire paper about how Don Quixote serves as a sort of trickster figure, because we're meant to learn from his mistakes, but there are honestly so many different ways you can read the text! Is he insane? Is he the ONLY person in the world trying to do the right thing, and its only the rigid outline of society that's actively preventing him from doing it? Also, has one of the single most important quotes to ever be put to a page. "There is no book so bad...that it does not have something good in it."

Dragon's Milk by Susan Fletcher. This was the first book about dragons that I read. I think it probably wouldn't hold up well if I read it again? But I remember being in love with it when I was about 9 or 10. It felt VERY gritty to me (there's death! injury! grief!) at the time, lol.

John Dies at the End by David Wong. HERE'S a book that taught me a lot about fucking around with genre conventions. I reread JDatE about three times in the beginning to make sure I was getting everything, and I still reread it like...once a year or two years or so? Horror is a really special genre to me because there's so much you can learn from it and use it to convey. JDatE was one of the first successful horror COMEDY novels I read.

The Dark Tower series by Stephen King. I couldn't possibly choose a single book, so don't ask me to! This is meant to be read as a series anyways, even more so than other series. King is one of my favorite authors, and I've read pretty much his entire body of work, but there's something special about The Dark Tower books. They're so huge, and far-reaching, and they accomplish so MUCH and manage to entwine so many different threads into one (nearly, no one's perfect, lol) cohesive whole. I'm sure there are a lot of fantasy and scifi novels that manage to weave as many threads as King does here, but man, there's something SO satisfying about being able to go through the Tower books, and recognizing all the references to so many other books by him. <3

Feet of Clay by Terry Pratchett. WORDS IN THE HEART CANNOT BE TAKEN. Fuck, what a good book. About personhood, about self determination, about acceptance. Feet of Clay is definitely THE City Watch book for me, followed very closely by Night Watch.

Inferno by Dante Alighieri. Does this count as ancient? I don't care. Inferno was one of my introductions to translation and how word choice can change the entire effect of a sentence. I read it first in middle school, on my own, and then more in depth in high school and college, and I used to keep my annotated copy by my bed in my dorm, so I could go through it whenever I was stressed. I got really into etymology because of Inferno, an interest I still have today!

The Sound and the Fury by William Faulkner. When I read this in high school, the teacher for the class warned us that it was going to be a difficult read and that we would probably need a timeline she had made in order to follow along. But I didn't need the timeline. The leaps in time and space and narration all made perfect sense to me! It wasn't actually that hard to follow along, and the story being told between the words by Benjy was horrifying and fascinating and terribly sad! And then you got to the other parts and it was CONFIRMED to be horrifying and sad! Anyways The Sound and the Fury is a really cool example of nonlinear, unreliable, stream of consciousness narration and I like it a lot.

The Mistborn trilogy by Brandon Sanderson. Just a really cool magic system. Really interesting worldbuilding. But it's the magic system that gets me.

Across the Acheron by Monique Wittig. Baby's first feminist lesbian book. I got Across the Acheron because I was intrigued by another version of Inferno. Instead, I figured out I wasn't straight! Like all feminist literature there's a lot of ways to read this and it probably hasn't held up as well as I would like, but I am indebted to it for like, letting 14 y/o me realize that not just liking boys was okay, so!

[wingsyouburn]

Tagged by @accidentallylita - thank you! :D

How many works do you have on AO3? 93

What's your total AO3 word count? 296,837

What fandoms do you write for? Final Fantasy (usually VI, VII, VIII, X), The Mummy, Power Rangers, some MCU in the past, random Yuletide stuff

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Angel of Mine (MCU, Steve/Bucky/OC, Angels AU)

My Little Dorito (MCU, Steve/Darcy)

Arabian Nights (The Mummy, Rick/Evy/Ardeth)

Beyond the Stars and Stripes (MCU, Steve/Darcy)

With These Hungry Eyes (MCU, Steve/OC)

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, but sometimes it takes me a while because I see it come in and I'm like !!!!! yes let's answer our friend in our computer and then I forget, I'm sorry!!!

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Probably House In The Trees; you'll find I'm not your angst writer.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of them, take your pick lol Let's go with You Reflect Me (I Love That About You).

Do you get hate on fics? I have in the past. Y'all, just hit the back button and shut the fuck up.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yup. :D The kind that might make you blush if you read it in front of other people.

Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? If the thought strikes, so not often. I have my FFIV/FFX crossover series that starts with Left Your Mark On Me, that's probably the craziest.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Thankfully no.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? No, but I was co-writing a novel with a friend for a while.

What's your all-time favorite ship? For what fandom? Please be specific.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Angel of Mine is on permanent hiatus, which sucks because I probably have another 30k written that won't get posted.

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue and character.

What are your writing weaknesses? Descriptions. I come from a journalism background and I'm always trying to expand on things, because my natural style is to be short and sweet.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Generally speaking, I would put those words in italics rather than actually write in another language that I don't personally speak. And since my Spanish is pretty fucking terrible, I'll stick with a few common phrases, thanks.

First fandom you wrote for? Posted? Highlander: The Series. Before that, it was Dark Shadows (the original 1960s gothic soap opera).

Favorite fic you've ever written? This answer will probably change over the years but currently it's Upon My End Shall I Begin, the Seifer redemption fic I always wanted to write.

[briannysey]

13 books tag game, tagged by @gunkread

Last book I read Last book I read to completion was either Homebody/Kabul (if you count reading plays as finished books), or Wide Sargasso Sea. Both great post-colonial texts. Also both for class lmao.

A book I recommend The Dragon Waiting by John M Ford. Ford was an inspiration to a lot of current "inspiration authors" like Gaiman and Robert Jordan. The Dragon Waiting is a deeply fascinating historical fantasy novel where four compatriots try to stop the imperial ambitions of the Byzantine Empire as it spreads west across Europe. I don't know what the fuck got into this guy, but he wrote with a feverish imagination that I don't think I've seen anyone come close to replicating.

A book I couldn't put down The Goblin Emperor by Katherine Addison. Goddamn can that lady write! This book was so good and so fascinating to me b/c it's protagonist is essentially a deeply kind character thrown into rulership, and the peace and prosperity he brings to his people is built on that kindness. Such a heart warming book.

A book I've read twice (or more) Wizard of Earthsea by Ursula K. Leguin. I think I've talked about it before here on Tumblr, but Leguin blew my eyes wide open in terms of understanding what fantasy literature could do and be. In a genre replete with end of the world struggles and titanic battles between good and evil, Leguin asked "what does it mean to face the shadow within yourself?" Whenever I am especially depressed, or lost, I go back to Wizard of Earthsea and rekindle a little bit of joy and magic in my life. Leguin is the best to ever do it, and we're all just writing and reading in her shadow.

A book on my TBR Name of the Rose or Foucault's Pendulum both by Umberto Eco. I really wanna start reading the man, he's important. Also I started Name of the Rose a few years ago and it was incredible.

A book I've put down A Memory Called Empire. I think I'll come back to it, but when I was reading it I could not commit time to it. And the naming conventions were exceptionally difficult for me to follow.

A book on my wish list 3 Parts Dead from Max Gladstone. I used to own a copy but I had to leave it behind in my last madcap cross-country move.

A favorite book from childhood The Belgariad. It's very derivative, and its attitudes towards parenting turn out to be... fitting considering who the authors turned out to be. Still, what a classic entry to fantasy.

A book you would give a friend Traitor Baru Cormorant (I have bought like 3 copies for friends at this point). Please read this book.

The most books you own by a single author It used to be 15 for Wheel of Time, then after the first time I lost all my books and belongings it was probably 5 for GRRM. Currently it's like 4 by James Baldwin.

A nonfiction book you own The Collected Essays from James Baldwin.

What are you currently reading Gideon the Ninth! Finally!!

What are you planning on reading next? After Gideon I really want to keep reading the Locked Tomb stuff, but we'll see. I'm not committed.

[cappurrccino]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks @captaincravatthecapricious for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 

80, apparently!

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 

234,199

3. What fandoms do you write for? 

Currently not really any because my muse fuckin packed her bags and took a vacation, but Malevolent, Halo, and Destiny are the big ones. I'd like to do more for Warframe and FFXIV, though!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

strange domains (TMA/Malevolent)

It's Called Supervising (Destiny... the power of putting Cayde-6 in your fic, I swear)

once in a movie night (Malevolent)

where you go, i go (TMA/WTNV)

Treason (Hollow Knight/Destiny AU)

5. Do you respond to comments?

I'm trying to be better about it! A lot of the time, though, I simply don't know what to say and fall into the "how do I respond to birthday wishes" trap because writing "Thanks!" a bunch feels disingenuous even though I am thankful and glad someone liked the fic enough to comment

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

Ptttthhhbbbbbbbb, probably the one where Bornstellar finds his family all floodified on the Halo Chakas & Riser got marooned on in Primordium

(I have not reread this fic in ages bc I remember not being super happy with how it was written and don't want to see I published a disaster lol)

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

Oh, so many of them. Happy fluffy nonsense is my wheelhouse. If I have to pick one, though, maybe day 7: we fucking did it just because I don't think any other characters have Gone Through It as much as John & Arthur have, so they would get the most joy from a lazy day at the river

8. Do you get hate on fics? 

Nah

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? 

Absolutely not lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I do! If we take "craziest" to mean "silliest" probably the Destiny/WTNV crossover thing I flirted with for a while in 2016 (old woman Josie lives in the desert with a house full of taken)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Not to my knowledge

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Again, not to my knowledge

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

@warlordfelwinter and I were writing a novelized version of a D&D campaign we were in, by which I mean Fel did the bulk of the writing and I filled in the Alexa-specific parts!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? 

Bornstellar/Splendid Dust! My boys! My beloveds! I'm pspsps-ing people into this sandbox with me because right now there are 4 fics for them on AO3 and they're all mine

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

Any of them 😭

16. What are your writing strengths? 

Dumb shit. But I like to think I'm also good at writing weird stuff (I also just have a lot of fun writing weird stuff, like Fundament and the Dark World)

17. What are your writing weaknesses? 

Plots.

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

I wouldn't dare unless I was fluent, which will basically never happen...

19. First fandom you wrote for? 

Transformers, baybee! I think at this point I've lost all of my TF fic from my ff.net days due to time and computer moves, which is a real shame, because I wrote a TF/ST crossover centered on tribbles once that I remember being one of the best things I've ever written... Maybe if I'm lucky it's on one of my old external drives and I can reupload it... 🤔

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

The hardest question in the world... hmm... maybe wait through the night for the dawn light to break just because it's the longest thing I've done and the MalevBB experience was so fun... but I also really like Siren's Eye bc Fundament and Osmium sibs and my funky little sea-runners, and I also really like Corpus Siege just bc it was so fun to write, and I also like— [is dragged off stage by a comically large shepherd's hook]

[yelling from the wings] also that Halo AU I had where I gave people metahuman powers! thank you and goodnight!

Tagging:

@warlordfelwinter, @xivu-arath, @wonderwafles, @titan-mom (no pressure, of course!)

[mswhich]

20 questions for fic writers!

Thanks to @whimsicalmeerkat for the tag! I think a lot of my mutuals have done this already so I'll just say to tag yourself if you want to do this!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

52, but one is still unrevealed for an upcoming exchange.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

609,172

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Lots. My top fandom is Original Work (technically not a fandom! But I have twice as many works in it as in my next-most-populated fandom). Also very actively writing in Formula 1 RPF, and I have a WIP for 2001: a Space Odyssey. I also occasionally write in Teen Wolf, Taskmaster, and Harry Potter. (Used to be my main fandom, and I still have a few WIPs I dream of finishing someday.)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Unforced Error (Harry Potter, Snape/Hermione), 3529 kudos.

Forged in Flames (Harry Potter, Snape/Hermione), 3526 kudos.

No Secrets (Teen Wolf, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski), 2331 kudos. (I would fucking love it if this surpassed my HP works at some point, just putting that out there.)

Bondmate (Original Work, Alien with no concept of consent/His human neighbor), 1135 kudos.

The Frontier Spirit (Original Work, Ship AI/Lone Crew Member), 1041 kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try. I'm not always great about hitting every single one.

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

I don't know about angsty, but most horrifying ending is probably A Scream is a Wish Your Heart Makes, my I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream fic. If you're familiar with the canon, you can probably guess why the ending is bleak.

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

I write a lot of happy endings, but the one that makes me personally turn into a cat with heart eyes emoji is probably Stripped as you are.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really, surprisingly enough for an unapologetically problematic author! I think the worst I've had on AO3 was a bookmark comment that said one of my fics was mid.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes. The smutty kind. No but seriously, my smut tends to be kinky and very explicit. (Is there non-explicit smut? I don't know, but if there is, I'm not writing it.)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I have not written a crossover, but I wouldn't rule it out in the future.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

More than once. Usually I notice because a friendly reader lets me know in the comments. A couple of times it's been on AO3, and AO3 took it down after the fic was reporter, and once it was on Wattpad, which also got taken down.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Many times.

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

Not exactly, but I did a Teen Wolf Big Bang in which @midmorning-bomb did the art for my fic No Secrets (linked above), which was a fantastic collaboration.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Jeez, I don't know. I feel like I ship everything that moves. Honestly, maybe Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, just because it ticks so many boxes for me: power dynamics, smartass characters, age gap, angst, superpowers, etc.

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

I have most of a whole-ass novel written about a post-War Ginny Weasley/Severus Snape fic. The premise is that she's sort of kicking around at loose ends at Grimmauld Place after the War is over, while Harry goes off doing Auror stuff and being a hero. Snape gets kicked out of Hogwarts for the summer for renovations and ends up having to move in as a boarder with Ginny. After some initial friction, they start talking to each other, and he realizes she's less vapid than he'd thought, and she realizes he's slightly less of an ass. There's also a mystery plot involving the moving portraits and a loose Death Eater, and part of it's set in Chicago. Literally 85% of it is written, and I just don't know if I'm ever going to finish it, partially because I've moved on from the fandom and partially because of the fandom's creator. So I don't know.

16. What are your writing strengths?

God, I don't know. You tell me. Kinky smut, maybe? I feel like I'm good at writing dialogue for some characters; less good at others.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Too repetitive within scenes; overuse of em dashes and other quirky punctuation; too reliant on what you might call "route 1" plotting.

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

Only very minimally, and preferably with lots of cognates so people can at least get the gist even if they don't speak it.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. The first fic I ever wrote is actually the one with the 2nd-most kudos. (1st-most until very recently.)

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

Crown of Neon Lights, a Mafia story about an uncle and his orphaned niece.

[inkskinned]

when i wrote this 2 years ago, i put in the tags the other thing that was happening: right before covid, i had changed my tune. instead of telling my students here is what you can't write, i asked them to please choose something that brought them joy. choose something beautiful. in college, i am not looking for a specific topic, there is no "winning" the essay, i am just making sure that you know how to format an essay and accurately cite your sources.

the world is pretty bleak right now, and many of my 19 year old kids are full of anger. my brother and i are teachers at the same time, but he is a professor in engineering. our colleges are owned by the same person. he calls me, frustrated, because he just got a student out of crisis, and now the financial aid office has sent the student right back into hell again. we talk about the administration being useless. we talk about feeling useless. we both say: i wish there was more i could do, but -

the world is pretty bleak right now, and i asked my kids to write about joy, because i couldn't stomach what is unsaid in the above post: kids were writing too much about gun violence. they were writing about blood smeared across the hallways of their middle schools. i would get essays about how they huddled under a desk while the bell rang around them, this strange and eerie tune. one of the only times i told my siblings out loud i love you was while we had an active shooter. i was locked in a friend's room up in a dorm while we all huddled around unwashed pastel dollar-store bowls. we called our families and loved ones. what else was there to do.

i couldn't read any more of those accounts. how cowardly.

i wish i could say i was braver, that i heard the weight of what they were handling and was able to bear it, but it adds up. i had 50 to 100 students. every semester, at least 3 of them would have visceral memories of a school shooting. their friends and neighbors and loved ones. their hands shaking around their phone as they type out this message might be my last one. i couldn't read that and stay calm. i had to call my mom. sob to my therapist - how the fuck do i resolve that. how do i help them? we both still have to go to school in the morning - me and my students. how am i supposed to just read that and then go on and teach them about prepositions? i can't even promise they won't ever have to experience that again. i feel like we're just waiting for trauma and instead i'm showing them how to keep their commas in the right place. how the fuck do either of us navigate that space?

i forget it can be different. a few years ago, a series of roof tiles fell off our building and made a loud scattered popping noise when they met the ground. i remember the strange accidental culture shock: most of my students went quiet and flattened to the floor; i leapt up and & turned off the lights & shoved my desk against the door. there were three kids who hadn't been raised in america. i remember the look on their faces; shocked and confused, nervously laughing because they hadn't assumed a threat. the gentle hands of their american friends helping them get down; shushing in a way i can only describe as kind, sympathetic. one of my students whispered you get used to it.

how can i see how they are suffering and then still ask them such an incredibly selfish request: please just write something about love, about joy, about something that reminds you of passion.

i get novels in return. technically, i have a page limit, but i never enforce it. every semester, students are delighted by the prospect. i get essays about being a dog show judge and about the history of the throw rug and about how prismacolor chooses certain paints. about glitter controversies and about their favorite albums and their role models who helped them come out as gay. students came in with visuals and little movies they made. they would go above and beyond just to ask their heroes i have this assignment. will you tell me about what joy means to you? i have records of interviews from writers and tv producers and youtube stars. i hear stories about tracking down the recipe for their grandmother's soup and making bread with their uncle and learning about dance from other cultures. they put their whole heart into it.

i said: this is just for your freshman english class! you do not have to try this hard! i am just one teacher in a million!

my students looked up to me, coated in the viscera and insincerity of their lives; this harrowing space so slick with their own mortality, their childhoods never awarded to them. they do not have the same promise of future. they have never assumed they would live forever. love is not in an arrow-speared heart for them; it has always been too fleeting to tattoo. if they catch it, they release it back into the wild, horrified by how little territory it has left. they wish it well but do not keep it for long. they have always been aware of the cost of their own body.

and they said: it brings me joy, which means it's time well spent.

something about that. something about the fact they can find it anyway: i wish i could write each of them my own essay, and it will be full of all the words you're not supposed to use. ribs and teeth and middle fingers. i wish they related to that, that in their heart were only poems about falling asleep and soft blankets and galaxies. every rainbow peony cliche. i wish i could hold their hand and push the desk in front of the door and say: i got you now. it's gonna be okay.

i wasn't supposed to write about roses or blood or silver, about hearts or wings or galaxies; my teacher used to press her hands, firmly, to the top of our poetry stacks and beg us - love different. she was bored of it. i'd go home and write something with each of her off-limits words, emboldened by spite.

for a stint of time, i was a reader for a poetry magazine, shifting through thousands of submitted writings, each hopefully printed onto my tiny laptop screen for next-submission-viewing. one editor had a pile where we would put all the poems with parsnips or cauliflower, one pile for long-thin emergency rants that devolved into a blank scream, one pile for mentions of belladonna and chartreuse - for a whole year, i'd go to bed hearing chartreuse and silver and cities playing in my head in calligraphy. every three months, the beautiful public eye would become just-fascinated by pretty things. unusual, beautiful monstrosities. one winter, all about daises. the next, a fascination with posies. i watched the world spin from catching love in language to the same five phrases - help, it's ending, i'm alone, help, it's dark here, come home, help -

later, as an english teacher, i saw patterns. every semester, one million essays about four specific things. it wasn't pretty enough to be a teachable moment: the content they wanted to discuss was all extremely violent; a broken anthem of climate change and constantly being videoed is destroying us. i would wake up shaking, worried their visions were prophetic, soon-to-be-true. selfish, i couldn't handle the constant semester-to-semester panic they scribbled into six paragraphs, MLA-formatted text. read the world is ending fifty times every month; sob to your therapist i'm not doing enough, tell your students: please, no more violence, i don't have the right stomach.

each one seemed the same poem: we're dying, and nobody is coming to save us.

there are very few celebration poems these days. i want to rest my hand on a stack of poems about love in big red wings. love in a jacket, standing under an open galaxy. love written on the bicep, in an anatomically correct heart, with an arrow shot through the center so you can see the pink viscera of surviving a wound - so you know that even permanent tattoos are permeable. blood on the snout of a newborn lamb. silver rings around the pink scales of a pigeon's leg, and love with her hand around the ribs of a bird. i want to read boring essays about lunch. about which video games run the best graphics. about carnivals. about love in big cliche terms: standing in a garden of parsnips, clutching daises to her chest, eating raw meat over the body of a rich man.

i want to open the poetry magazine and have pages of sonnets about bluebells. about survival. about a mundane, beautiful spring. about sitting with your dog on a front porch, writing without spite, happily toying with the idea of ice cream.

my student sends me an email. i know you said to write about what brings you joy. but nothing really makes me happy these days. i don't know what i'm doing.

[spikesbimbo]

Drunk in Love

Summary:  Getting drunk and confessing your love for your “boy” friend and fucking him was most definitely not what you expected to go down on the usual night.

Pairing: Issei Matusukawa x Reader

Tags: Timeskip!Tattoed Mattsun, softdom!issei Hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, smut, fluff, virgin!reader, Unptrotected sex, non-penetrative sex, fingering, oral, pussy/thigh job, clit slapping, sweet dirty talk, praise, drunk sex

Word count: 7.2k

A/N: I heard pussy job and I wrote a whole ass novel

18+ Minors DNI

You run your finger over the condensation of your empty drink, drawing shapes (or what you thought to be shapes, you couldn’t tell at this point) waiting for your dear friend, Makki to bring you a refill of your cocktail.  

“Here ya go.” Makki said as he returned with your beloved Malibu Sunset. The smooth coconut rum bringing you back to your first and favorite drink that you ever got drunk on in high school. You smiling at the memory

“Thanks.” you say. Your reply being mumbled by the liquid already in your mouth.

This all started with Iwaizumi calling Mattsun up, you and Makki hearing “You wanna get wasted?” on the other side of the phone. And with pleasure, you two were already packing your stuff up, shoving yalls “pregame” bottles back in the bag. The three of you made your happy way there climbing through the fence of the abandoned skate park you were in. Needles to say it was abandoned for a reason, but what’s life without a little danger.

You three and the rest of the third years have been friends since high school, meeting in freshman year, and now including Oikawa’s girlfriend. You actually didn’t like Oikawa at first, his “pretty boy” demeanor making you internally cringe. But his personality grew quickly on you, being the perfect target to tease you and Iwa clowning him over everything.

Now back to you on your nth drink, complaining about your previous job that fired you because u got injured, even though you know you wouldn’t have lasted long there anyways because you weren’t that academically inclined. Bright? Whatever you wanted to call it.

And as-usual it wasn’t long before your crybaby ass immediately called Makki and Issei and “tried” your best to tell them what happed with your dramatic self-induced tears running down you race, while Makki urged to you to try to calm down and Issei straight up laughing at the state your were in, snot running out of your nose. You recoiling at the thought, hoping they forgot. (Spoiler, they didn’t)

But now you nanny for a rich couple and you get payed good to play with cute babies all day, sounds good to you! Luckily, you had the week off due to them going on a vacation, you think it was France, no, the south of France. Must be nice.

Cue to now, Mattsun chuckling and leaning on you and Iwaizumi; both of you, especially Iwa, being visibly done with his shit. Him reminding you about the times you bought him some random shit, which you went out of your way for since he always payed for you, like that chopper keychain because you said it reminder you of him.

He didn’t know what compelled you to say his 6’2, tattooed built self looked like a tiny reindeer but okay. It still meant a lot to him, hooking it onto his motorcycle keys. But you knew he appreciated it, despite his appearance he’s a softie.

“You wanna try this’” He says gaining his composure offering you one of the shots he got.

You took one of the mini glasses, not being the type to back down and promptly swung the drink to the back of your mouth, quickly coughing before it even reached your throat.

“This shit is fucking gross.” You coughed out bringing the glass down from your lips.

  “Imagine being sober. Can’t relate.” He said taking another shot.

  “I guess I should do that but ive passed the point of giving a fuck” You said sending yall into a giggling fit while somehow Makki was thrown in to support yall from falling over. You two carry on laughing ignoring everyone’s stares at you thinking about how much yall fit perfectly together.  

   Makki rearranges himself to sit back in his chair, far away, from the both of you, whispering “Damn. I’m really third wheeling.” under his breath. Getting a snicker out of Oikawa sitting next to him.

   “When your best friends are ignoring you. Sad times.” He continues bringing his bottle to his mouth getting no response.

  Issei chuckles and gets up shoving his hands in his pocket reaching for the cigarettes. Pulling them out while failing to find his lighter

  “Fuck.” He muttered

  “Any’all got a light?”

  No one responds so you sacrifice yourself “Yeah” you say reaching into your pocket grabbing out your prized possession of a hot pink, bedazzled lighter that you did yourself, reaching out to hand it to him.

  “Don’t lose it” you stated seriously trying not to break a smile.

  “K’ sweet cheeks.” He said smirking into the butt between his lips as he walked away. Your face now burning up, hoping that everyone would think it was because of the alcohol.

  You mind wanders, thinking about the “dates” you two go on, from watching shows you “forcing” him to watch some romantic anime, to going to the skatepark, to playing video games with the rest of the 3rd years (which you don’t really like but you’ll play for him) and him surprising you with takeout, you bringing out candles trying your best to make it cute with him telling u everything you everything about his day.

  And you always tried to remain calm, even though sometimes he deserved to get his ass beat, like that one time he broke one of your favorite pair of heels. It honestly hurt him even more, he wanted you to get mad at him but no, you just acted like nothing happened. Making the guilt rise in him. Let’s just say didn’t have to lift a finger for the next few weeks.

You basically babied him, taking care of all his “chores”, mainly making him food when you were at his place knowing he hated doing it. Makki teasing you for acting like his housewife, leading to you slapping the shit outta him while trying to cover your now red cheeks.

You’ve never been so grateful for your attire at the moment, blessing yourself for not wearing your usual outfits of short skirts and cute tops, defending yourself saying what housewife dresses in beat up vans and baggy clothes. You definitely not imaging yourself in that position for the rest of the day.

 You expressed that you just liked to take care of people, which was true. You always looked out for them, bringing an extra umbrella, to bringing cookies you made at 2 in the morning to school, always carrying band-aids (yes, the paw patrol ones you took from the kids you babysit).

You checked the time on your phone seeing it was late since the sun at last went down, your lock screen being your dogs to their complaint since they have a group photos of you all from high school as theirs. To which you replied “They’re my babies” getting a groan and huff out of them.

  Seeing the notifications of your group chat you grinned at the contact name you and Issei gave each other; yall jokingly call each other pet names, his contact being honeybun and yours being pumpkin, even including Makki in your contacts as pudding bc then it wasn’t weird, right? no.

  “What’re you smiling at y/n?” Oikawa cheekily asks teasing you. You turn to him giving him a dirty look, not having enough energy to deal him right now.

  “Don’t listen to his bullshit.” Oikawa’s girlfriend says. You’re thankful for her. She was always on your side, being the only other girl in your friend group. To be honest you just wanted her and you to hang out most of the time, but of course to your disapproval her boyfriend and his friends had to join in.

  “Fuck this. Fuck you. I’m sleeping.” You say getting up to her objection, the only thing on your mind wanting to retire for the night.

  “You sure you’ll be fine? Let us at least walk you home.” She said already grabbing her boyfriend’s arm.

  “Nah, im good. I live right down the road.” You try to say not slurring. The last thing you want is him teasing you even more, especially in this state, knowing you, you’d probably start crying at the slightest irritation when youre this drunk.

    You started to “walk” towards your house resting  your hand against the brick walls to not lose your balance, leading you to run into Issei. You stopped to watch him lean against the alley holding a cigarette between his index and middle finger.

  “I’m hiding like a bitch” He says noticing you, resting his weight against the wall.

 “Wanna be a bitch with me? He grinned  blowing out the smoke out with his words.

You didn’t reply, just walking over to him, just being around him made you feel warm.

"Fuck its windy.” He says trying to light a new cig.

“C’you make me a house?” He asks.

You go up and put your hands around his cigarette, this not being your first time. Your hands wrap a little tighter to prevent the wind from burning out his flame. He joins you with his free hand helping, finally getting his cig to light.

 “Thanks doll” He smirks.

“No problem princess.” You reply earning a laugh out of him.

He takes his first hit with his and your hands still wrapped around it. He gets an up-close look at your hands, noticing how tiny they were, seeing all the scars that he never noticed, making a mental note to ask you how you got them later.

His head gets close to yours for the first time in a while due to his height. You glance at his face, noticing his features seeing some stubble growing on his face.

“You ain’t shave?” You ask, never seeing it in the past, while he was moving back up, blowing the smoke away from you.

“What, you don’t like my majestic beard? “He jokes. Making you giggle almost losing your balance before catching yourself on the wall.

  “s’too much work.” He starts. “You wanna shave it for me?” he says slightly leaning towards you. Handing you back your lighter knowing you didn’t need him to carry it because your pants actually had pockets in them for once.

You let out a soft laugh not responding again. He catches on, you got quiet when you were tired and he made out that you were walking towards your house.

“You going home?” he asks already knowing the answer.

“Yeah.” You respond more than happy to have him walk you back, him already moving to walk next to you.

He walks you home, you two talking about random shit, both of you forgetting about your skateboards leaving Makki to deal with them. And even though you’re drunk as fuck you’re still in the right state of mind, carrying a normal conversation with him. But just because you’ve built a tolerance doesn’t mean you can do basic tasks, like walk correctly.

When he reaches your house, he types in the keycode, your first dogs birthday, being glad that you, him and Makki have each other’s memorized.

He leads you into you house setting you on the couch, petting your dogs that ran up to him.

“Mommy’s not feeling too good” He said giving them the affection they deserved.

“Yes I am.” You slurred getting them attention on you now.

He walked over to your counter putting on the playlist that you two made together on shuffle, High fashion being the first to play. You didn’t like when it was quiet because too many thoughts would run though your head. You were in no way sad, singing the lyrics while you were laughing barely being able to hold yourself up as proof.

Remembering you were tired, he takes you off the couch and borderline carries you to your room, , setting you on your plush blankets that you had so many of because it was warm and comfy.

 “Easy, there. Try to sit up.”He said, trying to ask you what draws your pj’s were in because he didn’t want to snoop around; neither of you being bothered that you were half naked, what’s the difference between panties and a bikini, he thought remembering the times you’ve been to the beach together.  

Well it was maybe the fact that you were clinging onto him because u stumbled into him and he was closest stable thing around and you wouldn’t let go because it was cold and you couldn’t stop shaking.

 He ignores his thoughts and grabs the shirt he got out figuring you don’t need to change your bra because you told him and Makki that it was normal to keep it on for a few days after they were in awe as you were explaining how expensive they were. You calling Oikawa’s girlfriend to prove your point as she immediately agreed with you…Sometimes you might have got a little too comfortable with them.

You hear the song in the background change to Love Songs, you humming along, “Hope you smile when you listen.”

You were still holding on to him, your boobs squeezing against him, him only being able to put a t-shirt on you, while you looked up at him with your red glossy eyes making him burn up.  

You fidget timidly with your face now in his chest while gripping his sweater. Trying to build up the little courage you had. He tilts your head up making you look at him, wondering what you were thinking about.

  You try to express yourself, but you can’t get the words out him having no idea what is going on in your head at the moment.

“It’s okay to be nervous sometimes. Tell me” He gently says reading your body language. He was intuitive, so there was no way you could hide your feelings from him.

But you knew you could trust him, him having full self-control, always staying collected and following through on what he said he’d do.  He went out of his way to avoid any friction coming between you two, him never raising his voice or starting an argument.

“We need to talk.” You started. “About something important.”

“Ok…What is it?” He questioned rubbing his hands on your back. You were so nervous, were you really about to say this? Confess your feelings that you’ve pushed to the back of your heart for so long?

“I… I l… I love your face. And the stuff in it. and around it.” You spoke, being surprised you did it stutter.

He stood there, hands stopped moving trying to process what you just said.

“Just you, in general…”  You finally confess trying to state three things at once barely getting your words out.

But he understood exactly what you meant, or maybe he was warping what you said to fit what he wanted.

  "I don’t even know when I started liking you, but this shit won't go away." You restated

  Nope. He clearly just heard you say that.

  He doesn’t understand what’s so different about today. Yall have been in this scenario multiple times taking care of each other, sometimes including another into the mix.  

You didn’t understand either. You just felt like the time was right, even though you know it wasn’t the best idea to confess while you were drunk off your ass.

But you couldn’t help it, your feelings overflowing, which you never until this day let get the best of you, being vulnerable and trusting is not your usual . Youve never even had a crush on anyone, him being to only in your whole life to make you blush.

  Who you been vibin' wit and why I can't make you mine?

  You should have seen the signs that you feel for him when he helped that lady that lives down the street from him set up her Christmas lights or when he first met your dog that wasn’t fond of men, but it instantly liked him. And you loved his selflessness it was something you admired and applauded.

  “y/n” He tries talking you down, making sure you weren’t just saying this because of alcohol, deep down knowing he felt the same, you always being in the back of his mind.

You were generous with your time too, always being there for him. You knew he was softer than he appeared, he was tender, sensitive and vulnerable. He tried his hardest to not get into situations where anyone would get hurt, like breakups, arguments, and so on.

Which is why he won’t make the first move. He pushes his feelings to the back of his head. He values your friendship more than anything, but he can see what develops. If love is meant to be, it will happen.

I told you I am down for the worse or the better. But I keep sticking to you cause them four stupid letters

    “You make me so happy. And I’ll always care about you. Okay? He says breaking the silence, trying to reassure you.  

  “You mean so much to me—something I can’t even put into words because nothing can compare- I’ve wanted you since that day you tripped and bust your ass in the school hallway I still want you even though you drive me insane.”

  “Iss-“ You tried to get out only to have him continue talking over you.

  "I love that you can’t leave the house without a jacket. I love the wrinkles that appear on your forehead after you call me crazy. I love that it takes you hours to get ready. I love that you always know how to make me feel better. I love that even when you don’t agree with my decisions you always trust me to make them.  I love that when I spend a day with you, I can still smell you on my clothes; and I love that you are the last person I think of  before I go to sleep at night."

  You stood there awestruck for what feels like eternity until you mustered the bravery to speak “I didn’t expect you to feel the same way-” You said, being dumbfounded because from what you’ve seen treats everyone “nice”, were you really getting special treatment?

  He tilts your chin up, locking his dark eyes with yours. “Baby I don’t know if your notice but you and Makki are my only people that aren’t my family that call me my first name.”

He has a point. You think pushing yourself more into him, trying to fuse your bodies together to hide, not relaxing what you were doing to him. He tries to nudge your legs to the side but you won’t let go still clinging onto him.

“fuck” He groans. You pulling back wondering why until you looked down and noticed. A smirk appeared on your face as you reattached your self to him like velcro. You were feeling bold, the liquid courage still in your system driving you to slide your fingers down his chest, looking him in the eyes before stopping at his waistband.  

He knows what you’re doing, him being in this position multiple times. Does he really want to ruin your friendship like this? He hasn’t even asked you to be his girlfriend. He tries to push you off him already knowing you were gonna complain. But what he didn’t expect was for you to whimper out his name in that pretty voice of yours.

 He tried to keep his calm, blood already rushing down. “You know what you’re doing”

“yeah” You start.

“y’don’t want me?” Giving him your pouty face that you know he’s weak for, hoping that’ll work, insecurity piling up. Was it because your boobs weren’t that big or that fact that you were dressed like man? Was he not attracted to you right now, only liking you when you were dolled up?

“Fuck” You think. You should have worn something cute instead of dressing like a whole ass man even with your makeup fully done. Its not like you were supposed to know you were gonna get fucked today.

His were burning holes into you now, thinking of how to say “No, I would be more that happy to fuck you!” to his best friend, soon regaining his consciousness finally speaking.

“Fuck no doll, ive wanted you for a minute. You know me better than I know myself. How did you not notice my feelings?”

 You got me singing love songs, love songs, love songs

“You’re really hard to read” You replied trying to maintain your seductive act, resting your hands back on his chest.

“So are you.” He said lowering his head, you still looking up at him, taking in your gleaming eyes.

Sex ain't the only thing that's on my mind But you get me so excited, whoa

Your heart was beating so wildly that you could only take little sips of breath. His hands running down your waist stopping at your hips.

“Can I kiss you?" He asks "...yeah” you attempted to say as confidently as you could, nodding your head along with it.

His face bent down, hot mouth breathing over you. His lips slowly moved, brushing over yours, the liquor on his lips that you hated; only choosing fruity drinks even though you got relentlessly teased you for it.  You pushed further into the kiss desperately wanting more. Your teeth clicking his from being impatient, wanting to suck him in. Your hands sliding under his shirt subconscious desires reaching out.

Irreplaceable Tattoos from your neck that drop down to your ankles

“You’re drunk…” he says snapping you out of your trance.

“So are you.”

He dove in for another kiss much more passionate than the previous one, arguably needy, pusing you on the bed to which you more than happily comply. He tugs back not letting his mind get the best of him, disconnecting your spit trial leaving you panting. “You sure this alright?” He says deep down hoping you still say yes.

  You pull him back for your answer, your grabby little hands working their way back up his shirt. He gets the hint and pauses your lips rendezvous, taking off the turtleneck that he looked oh so good in, before seeing his unclothed body.  You’re admiring his body in a new way, before just complimenting him whenever he got a new tattoo, now up under him tracing them like a lovestruck teenager.

“When did you get this one?” You quietly ask, his ears closer to you than they’ve ever been.

“I got it that day you faked sick”

“What! You said were gonna take me!” You sulked, turning your head away from his as much as you could, crossing your arms.

He let out a slight laugh before gently taking your face in his hands, guiding you back into the kiss.

This is not really what he imagined for your first time. He’s an old-fashioned romantic who likes to take one step at a time. But then again nothing was ever normal with you. That said, when he falls in love, he falls deep.

“You’ve done this before?” You uttered.

“Hmm?” He mumbles, unmoving his lips from you kissing you, moving towards your neck.

“You still with that other girl?”

“No. I broke it off her, everything that came out of her mouth was bullshit, and no she wasn’t my girlfriend.”

“You didn’t trust her? You added. Trying to distract him until you could think of a way you could say “hey in my 21 years of life I’ve never got passed kissing a guy.”

“Our relationship was purely built on lies, I’d second guess everything she said. He replied, wondering if you were interrogating him.

“Why’d you wanna know?” He asked bringing his face up from your skin.

“…No one’s ever touched me like this, fuck.” You bashfully admitted, thoughts racing through your head that he didn’t want you anymore because you weren’t experienced.

But he knew what was running through that pretty head of yours, his fingers reaching out to with your hair trying to comfort you.

“You’re a virgin?” He curiously asked dragging his hand to your cheek, you leaning into it.

“y-yeah” you muttered trying to move your eyes away from his looking down at his body.

“I thought you had a boyfriend before” he said, softly turning your jaw to make you look at him. Your eyes diverted from his arms back to his eyes.

“We weren’t actually dating” You quickly say trying to clear up the misunderstanding. “He was my friend and seatmate that pretended to be my fake boyfriend to get me out of some trouble” you spewed out “and I guess I forgot to tell everyone that it was fake.”

“Even if we were that doesn’t mean we fucked.” You sheepishly replied.

“So… what trouble did your fake boyfriend get you out of.” He questioned knowing how much trouble it must have been for you, miss independent, to go to such lengths.

“Umm, well…this guy wouldn’t stop flirting with me even after I told him I don’t like him, even following me to my other classes.”

He wasn’t surprised, you were definitely a sight for sore eyes, in fact the prettiest thing he’s laid his eyes on, your beaming eyes, your dimple when you smiled, your pretty face, your “ugly” laugh, he could go on for days.

“Why are we talking about this” You whined, reaching your hand back out to him.

He took a hint and continued kissing you, bringing you closer to him while you attempted to take you shirt off. His hands helping you seeing as that you were struggling, being lost in his touch, finishing by moving you up more on you bed, pushing your plushies out of the way, to your protested because “they had feelings too.”

He ignored you, bending down to pull your panties off stopping once he saw the slick coming through them.

“Fuck baby you’re wet” He breathed dragging his fingers across your clothed slit earing a whimper from you, leaving his fingers drenched.

 Shawty, you wanna feel good, I wanna feel good too Don't I make you feel good?

“M’always wet.” you responded.

From what? He questions taking off your soaked cotton panties, tossing them to the side.

“From me?” He smirks bringing his hand back towards your heat. You not even comprehending what he just said, just knowing that you’re ashamed of how worked up you were getting.

You were in awe. You’ve always known his hands were big, but in this situation your mind wondered. His fingers were so much bigger than yours knowing you can barely fit two inside your with out it hurting, and not in a good way.

“Do you know how pretty you are? It’s honestly distracting.”. He says kissing down your whole body, stopping at your breasts, licking lazily around and coming back to the nub. The attention on your nipples making you squirm and he finally lets go, you grateful that he stopped or you would have almost cum, how embarrassing.

“I thought you said were gonna get them pierced” He remembered, you going on a whole rant about how cute they were.

“You said u were gnna get em with me” You looked back on, reminding yourself making him promise to get them with you because you were too scared of the pain.

“That was the same day you played sick and I got that tattoo.” He stated lightening the mood, hoping you can calm yourself down before you actually embarrass yourself.

He picks back up and continues kissing all the way down your body, you playing with his hair while biting your lip to muffle your moans and whine until he reaches your entrance.

He parted your legs, your pussy laid out before him, believing you no have reason to be shy about it either. He paused, admiring your swollen cunt and puffy clit, you were beautiful.

The feeling that he didn't want anyone else ever in his position overtook him. He let out a little breath on your clit and you thrashed around. He wasn't going to play. “I’ll take care of you.”

His lips travel over your skin, light and heated before settling himself between your legs, grabbing you by your thighs and dragging you closer. “That tickles.” you giggle, nerves making you kick your legs, almost hitting him in the face before he grabs them. He puts them down locking your legs with his arms, lowering himself until he’s on the ground facing you.

“Does it make you nervous when I stare?” he teases while your covering your face trying to hide the blush he caused.  He puts his mouth on you, quickly gripping your thighs, his hands leaving imprints in your skin dragging you even more into him, deprived kisses taking over your body. 

“yer so pretty” You purred seeing the sight of his big build between your legs, your fingers grabbing onto his curly dark locks, tugging them.

  Issei moans, his voice radiating through your body, forcing out a cry, blessing him with your pretty voice. “I-Issei!” You cry, never feeling like this before, your vibrator and hands doing it no justice.

“Shh, just look at me, doll.”

You can barely make out what he says, so drunk on pleasure. You try your best, doing anything to see the pretty man beneath you. But you get interrupted by your pleasure, your back arching not being able to control your body, grinding down to meet his lips, heat rising in you.

He kisses through your wetness playing with your bud. You choking on your spit, back arching again your body tensing up. “Issei,” You beg, grabbing him knowing what you want but not being able to express it. Luckily he can read you like an open book, knowing what you want, driving you over the edge as he makes you see stars. “Good girl,” he sighs when he feels you let go of his wrist letting him bring you your first orgasm.

“Look at your thighs shaking so much.” He teasingly cooed, wrapping his hands around them, bringing you out of your daze.

Shawty, your body is so exciting

Arching your back into the blankets, letting out a whine “Want your fingers.”.

He lets out a condescending laugh. “You need to learn to be patient. You just came and you’re already so eager for more?”

But by the time he finished your body went limp, you were totally weak, body loose-limbed and pliant. Your mind clouded by lust and deep in your own world. You gasped out a little sob, unable to comprehend anything beyond the discomfort and the need to have it gone. You can’t think straight all you can do is take action, grabbing his arm him easing his fingers into to you.

It’s not too tight, is it?” you ask clenching around his fingers.

 “Just relax… let yourself feel it” He says barely being able to move in you. Fuck so were so tight.

“I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.” He added starting to thrust them inside you, making you let out a string of moans.

“Look how good you take it.”  

“Fuck, you’re so messy.” He groaned feeling the slick running down his hands, before taking them out.

“Issei-i,” You cried when he pulled away, pleasure leaving you, tears coming back.

  He shushes you easily, his fingers wiping your tears. You were so precious to him, your moans music to his ears.  He slows down repositioning his fingers, making you let out a whimper squeezing around them. Your brains so crowded you can’t focus, can’t gather the strength to speak when he thrust them faster inside you.

  Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you fell back, fingers curling inside you, chanting his name over and over, incoherent words coming out of your mouth begging for more. 

You pussy tightens as you cum, unable to breath, letting out gasps and whines. Him still fucking you, fingers not stopping, pushing them in and out relentlessly feeling both pain and pleasure. You lay there, wet in your own cum not giving yourself a break before you went and got what you really wanted, his cock.

His eyes followed the movement of your hands as they pushed down his boxers, revealing the length of his cock, that jutted proudly from his hips. He was so pretty, so virile and handsome. Wondering how lucky you were to be in such a position with him.

You pushed away those thoughts and focused on him, pulling him forward gently, but he followed his encouragement. One of his hands tilted his cock down toward your lips. “Open your mouth for me, baby.”

You parted them instantly, tongue sliding slightly outward, and then you whimpered as the warm weight of his cock slid into your mouth. You let your eyes flutter closed and swirled your tongue around the tip of his cock not knowing exactly what you were doing, but it was working, tasting the salty tang of the precum that wept from his leaking slit. You moved your tongue as the he put his hand into your hair, gripping the strands and pushing deeper into his mouth.

“You look so good on your knees like that. “He says meeting your eyes once again, almost cumming from the picture below him.

“Slowly, baby, I’m not going anywhere.” He says slowing you down by grabbing your hair, making a pace that you follow.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.” Seeing that sinful look in your eyes with your redden swollen lips.

You moan feeling yourself drip down your thighs, getting even wetter giving him head. Trying to ease the discomfort by closing your legs, griding them together, trying to find some friction. Your ears hearing “That’s so fucking hot.” watching the scene unfold beneath him.

Your jaw hurts, trying got make him cum faster using your hands and lips together hollowing your cheeks. “Oh fuck, oh, Jesus, fuck yes, there, just like that, fucking Christ" he groans out, his voice sounded beautiful to your ears, knowing he was about to cum.

He finally lets go cumming in your mouth, you swallowing it all, trying not to wince at the taste. “Did I do good” You ask waiting for his reply. Your doll eyes, so red and worn out looking up at him for approval. Fuck he was whipped.

“Yeah…fuck baby”

I love when you get on top and you ride it

You get back under him, his cock resting on you, drenched and clenching around nothing, resting in your cum. You working yourself up against him.

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” He says to your complaint.

“You’re not ready yet.” he mumbles against your whining. Spreading your legs, slapping your clit a few times before letting his cock rest on your folds. Finally getting “seated” he picks up your legs and puts them both on one of his shoulders your thighs warming his cock, your knees touching his cheek not moving, getting a kick out of how desperate your were for him.

“s-stop being mean” You cried reaching out for him to come closer, needing affection after all you’ve been though.

“Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you? He says leaning into you, reaching your kiss, tasting the remnants of the cum in your mouth.

He plundered your mouth and slowly teased his cock over your entrance, catching it against your clit and making you whimper into the kiss, clearly wanting to be fucked. Your kiss turned you sucking on Issei’s tongue and lips, biting the swollen pout until his lips were red and puffy. He pulled back and looked down at you, a beautiful mess under him.

His fat cock head pushed between your folds. The moan escaping both of your lips was primal. You were turned on beyond imagination and the way he was thrusting forward, spreading his leaking precum on your wet clit was almost too much. He quickly picked up his pace fucking your folds, his warm head brushing against your clit with every movement, but your greedy self wanted more.

The fact that he made you cum so easily made you proud. Just because you’ve never gone this far with someone else doesn’t mean you’ve never cum, you’ve had a lot of practice over the years, being insatiable, the sheets soaked underneath you from your previous orgasms being proof.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me, baby.” He moans getting your attention him.

You tried, you really tried, but the way he was stroking you, imagining what it’d be like to actually sit on his cock, the lewd sounds echoing in the background leaving you unable to focus.

He taps on your cheek eventually getting you look at him, keeping your mind on him by placing his fingers in your mouth you letting him, hazily sucking on them, not being able to close your mouth.

“Oh, baby, you’re drooling everywhere.” He grumbles. Your spit dripping onto his fingers, the friction of your thighs making him feral, moving at an even faster pace. Your body bouncing with every thrust.

“You gonna cum after I cum on your little clit? Come one more time for me, I know you’ve got it in you.” You sob feeling the puddle beneath you, time slowing, fire pooling in your tummy.  Listening to his words you let yourself go. You come with a silent scream as the pleasure ripped through your body, your nails scratching his soft skin. Your vison fading to black feeling him lose his rhythm and moaning a mixture of curse words along with your name, feeling him cum on your tummy before resting his head in your neck while letting your legs go.

“So good for me, look at how much you came.” He says breaking the static. You whining into his shoulder, emotions high, never doing this before.

“I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” He says. You two laying in silence for an unclear amount of time, him rubbing your back while you rest in his chest almost dozing off.

“Are we still…friends?” You croak out trying to hold back your sobs already knowing the answer that you two were defiantly not friends now and never would be just friends again.

“Friends don’t do this type of shit” He maintained grabbing your shoulders to sit you and him up. You were worried, did he only do this with you because he was drunk? You were anxious that you scared him away because you just poured your heart out to him and pushed yourself on him. You left your head down, tears already coming out to your dismay. You moved your hand up to wipe them but he beat you to it.

“Look at me… I love you.” He says holding your cheeks in his palm. You in awe, hoping that you weren’t imagining it, that this was real life.

“R-really” You question making him worry too, preferring to forgive and forget rather than letting this a divide between the two of you in case you went back on your feelings. You were so overwhelmed, never feeling love until this moment, so happy that the person you longed for liked you back. Yours tears running once again.

 “Shh, shh, it’s alright...Don’t cry.”

You don’t even know why you were crying, the hangover already getting to you making you get a headache. You groaning in his arms complaining that your head and throat hurt.

“Ill be back” he says detaching himself from you, letting you know he was coming right back.

He walks to your fridge opening it to see every drink but water, having too dig through all of them, especially the absurd amount of apple juice guessing it was your “once a year craving for it”. He finally got you some cold water, putting It in a cup and waked back to your room.

  “Issei” you whined not picking your head up from the pillow.

  “Shh baby im right here.”

  He sat down beside you on your bed lifting your head up. “Here drink this” he reassured, to which you ignored not wanting anything to go in your mouth, just wanting the day, or night as it was now, to end.

  “It’s just water, honey, look.” You sat yourself up with his help seeing him in just his boxers, you remembering your still naked, not caring enough to cover yourself. He held to glass to your mouth, babying you, tilting it far back enough to where you could drink it. The water hit the back of your mouth feeling like a shot making you cough.

“I know, it hurts. I’m sorry but we have to” He stated. You continued to drink it, feeling the stinging in the back of your throat, him comforting you, calling you “good girl” which was unsurprisingly working.

  He put the cup on your dresser when you finished, climbing back into bed with you leaning your body into his. “Have you ever thought about...us? Y’know, as an...item?” he said causing you to look at him with wide eyes.

 “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” He insisted making you cheeks flush. You try to think of a way to respond, not wanting to keep him waiting.

“You’re the best thing that has, and ever will, happen to me. Not only am I deeply in love with you, you’re my best friend.” You stammer out, your shaky hands somehow made there way to his neck, letting them fall slowly before he grabs them dragging you in for a kiss before you got to even see his face.

“Everybody has always thought we’re a couple.” He continued taking his time kissing you all over your face. “Then I guess we should be.” You retort, kissing him back before you could see his reaction, not wanted to be embarrassed anymore today. But he caught you, holding you still “Really “y/n? Like deadass?” He asked.

  “Yes dummy, I want to be your girlfriend” You say causing him to grin swearing you’ve never seen him smile that big, before he gives you one last kiss.

  “I always kiss you on the cheek, why are you blushing now? He teases laying back down, you following along. You just snuggle into him mumbling something along the lines of “m’tired”, he understanding and speaking to you in a soft, gentle voice while helping you to bed, so he doesn’t make it harder for you to sleep by being loud. “I’m here love, I’m not going anywhere.” He whispers into your ear mkanig your heart swoon one last time before you pass out.

  “I l-love you issei.” You sleepily mumble.

“Tell me this when you’re sober.” He says stroking your head.

“Just relax, close your eyes...”He murmurs, your heart beating slower every second. Both of you together, lazy, slow presses. Limbs pressed together, chests heaving, fingers trailing down backs, tracing lazy patterns.

  “Oh!…” He remembers. “If you really wanna get them pierced, we could get matching ones.”

© all content belongs to spikesbimbo. do not alter or repost .

[spencersmagic]

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The “yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

**

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

**

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

**

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :) 

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x​ @spencerreid-mgg​​ @eoupe​ @inlovewithbabygirl​ @galaxydefenderjulia​ @username2002​

[spockandawe]

Well, this is interesting! So, in that post yesterday, there was one line that really baffled me, a thing about people brushing off a character as an asshole “because he shows literally zero growth.” I kind of set that aside because it was such a weird non-sequitur, and guessed that it was just someone’s sentences not quite keeping up with their train of thought, which has happened to me many times. Apparently I was wrong! I already spent long enough on that one post, I’m tired of talking about that, but this is new and interesting. 

Okay. I kind of wanted to see if I could talk about this purely in terms of abstracts and not characters, but I don’t think it’ll work. It would be frustrating to write and confusing to read. It’s about Jiang Cheng. Right up front: This isn’t about whether or not he’s an abuser. Frankly, I don’t think it’s relevant. This also isn’t about telling people they should like him. I don't care whether anyone else likes him or not. But I do like him, and I am always fascinated by dissecting the reasons that people disagree with me. And the process of Telling Stories is my oldest hyperfixation I remember, which will become relevant in a minute.

I thought I had a good grasp on this one, you know? Jiang Cheng makes it pretty obvious why people would dislike Jiang Cheng. But then the posts I keep stumbling over were making weird points, culminating in that “literally zero growth” line.

So! What happened is that someone wrote up a post about how Jiang Cheng’s character arc isn’t an arc, it’s stagnation. It’s a pretty interesting read, and I broadly agree with the larger point! The points where I would quibble are like... the idea that it’s absolute stagnation, as opposed to very subtle shifts that still make a material difference. But still, cool! The post was also offered up as a reason why OP was uninterested in writing any more Jiang Cheng meta, which I totally get. I’m not tired of him yet, but I definitely understand why someone who isn’t a fan of his would get tired about writing about a character with a very static arc. Okay!

Now, internet forensics are hard. I desperately wish I had more information about this evolution, because I find this stuff fascinating, but I have no good way to find things said in untagged posts, reblogs, or private/external venues. But as far as I can tell, that “literally zero growth” wasn’t just a slip of the tongue, it’s become fashionable for people to say that Jiang Cheng is an abusive asshole (that it’s fucked up to like) because he doesn’t have a character arc.

Asshole? Yes. Abusive? This post still isn’t about that. This is about it being fucked up to like this character because he did bad things and had a static character arc.

At first, that point of view was still deeply confusing to me. But I think I figured out the idea at the core of it, and now I’m only baffled. I’m not super interested in confirming this directly, because the people making the most noise about this have not inspired confidence in their ability to hold a civil conversation and I’m a socially anxious binch, but I think the idea is: ‘This character did Bad Things, and then did not improve himself.’

Which is alarmingly adjacent to that old favorite standard of ‘This piece of fiction is glorifying Bad Thing.’ I haven’t seen anyone accusing mxtx of something something jiang cheng, only the people who read/watched/heard the story and became invested in the Jiang Cheng character, but things kind of add up, you know?

Like I said, I don’t want to arbitrate anyone’s right to like/dislike Jiang Cheng. That’s such a fucking waste of time. But this is fascinating to me, because it’s like..... so obviously new and sudden, with such a clear originating point. I can’t speak to the Chinese fans, obviously, but exiledrebels started translating in... what, 2017? And only now, in 2021, do people start putting forth Jiang Cheng’s flat character arc as a “reason” that he’s bad? I’m not going to argue if he pings you in the abuse place, I’m not a dick. I’m not going to argue if you just dislike his vibes. I’m just over here on my blog and in the tag enjoying myself, feel free to detour around me. But oh my god, it’s so silly to try to tell other people that they shouldn’t like him because he has a static character arc.

I want to talk about stories. I don’t know how much I’ll be able to say, because it’s impossible to make broad, sweeping statements, because there are stories about change, there are stories about lack of change, there are all kinds of media that can be used to tell stories, and standards for how stories are told and what they emphasize vary across cultures and over time. But I think that what I can say is that telling a story requires... compromise. It requires streamlining. Trying to capture all the detail of life would slow down most stories to an unbearable degree. Consider organically telling someone ‘I made a peanut butter and jelly sandwich’ versus the computer science exercise of having students describe, step by step, how to make one (spread peanut butter? but you never said you opened the lid)

Hell, I’ve got an example in mdzs itself. The largely-faceless masses of the common people. If someone asks you to think about it critically like, yes, obviously these are people, living their own lives, with their own desires, sometimes suffering and dying in the wake of the novel plot. But does the story give weight to those deaths? Or does it just gloss by? Yes, it references their suffering occasionally, but it is not the focus, and it would slow the story unbearably to give equal weight to each dead person mentioned. 

Does Wei Wuxian’s massacre get given the same slow, careful consideration as Su She’s, or Jin Guangyao’s? No, because taking the time to weigh our protagonist with ‘well, this one was a mother, and her youngest son had just started walking, but now he’s going to grow up without remembering her face. that one only became an adult a few months ago, he still hasn’t been on many night-hunts yet, but he finds it so rewarding to protect the common people. oh, and this one had just gotten engaged, but don’t worry, his fiancee won’t mourn him, because she died here as well.’ And continuing on that way to some large number under 3000? No! Unless your goal is to make the reader feel bad for cheering for a morally grey hero, that would be a bad authorial decision! The book doesn’t ignore the issue, it comes up, Wei Wuxian gets called out about all the deaths he’s responsible for, but that’s not the same as them being given equal emotional weight to one (1) secondary character, and I don’t love this new thing where people are pretending that’s equivalent.

When Wei Wuxian brutally kills every person at the Wen supervisory office, are you like ‘holy shit... so many grieving families D:’ or are you somewhere between vindicated satisfaction and an ‘ooh, yikes’ wince? Odds are good you’re somewhere in the satisfaction/wince camp, because that’s what the story sets you up to feel, because the story has to emphasize its priorities (priorities vary, but ‘plot’ and ‘protagonist’ are common ones, especially for a casual novel read like this)

Now, characters. If you want to write a story with a sweeping, epic scale, or if you want to tightly constrain the number of people your story is about, I guess it’s possible to give everyone involved a meaningful character arc. Now.... is it always necessary? Is it always possible? Does it always make sense? No, of course not. If you want to do that, you have to devote real estate to it, and depending on the story you want to tell, it could very possibly be a distraction from your main point, like the idea of mxtx tenderly eulogizing every single character who dies even incidentally. Lan Qiren doesn’t get a loving examination of his feelings re: his nephews and wei wuxian and political turnover in the cultivation world because it’s not relevant, and also, because his position is pretty static until right near the end of the story. Lan Xichen is arguably one of the most static characters within the book, he seems like the same nice young between Gusu and the present, right up until... just before the end of the story.

You may see where I’m heading with this.

Like, just imagine trying to demand that every important character needs to go through a major life change before the end of your book or else it didn’t count. This just in, Granny Weatherwax and Nanny Ogg go through multiple novels without experiencing radical shifts in who they are, stop liking them immediately. I do get that the idea is that Jiang Cheng was a ~bad person~ who didn’t change, but asdgfsd I thought we were over the handwringing over people being allowed to like ““bad”” fictional characters. The man isn’t even a canonical serial killer, he’s not my most problematic fave even within this novel.

And here is where it’s a little more relevant that I would quibble with that original post about Jiang Cheng’s arc. He’s consistently a mean girl, but he goes from stressed, sharp-edged teenager, to grief-stricken, almost-destroyed teen, to grim, cold young adult (and then detours into grim, cold, and grief-stricken until grief dulls with time). He does become an attentive uncle tho. He..... doesn’t experience a radical change in his sense of self, which... it’s...... not all that strange for an adult. And bam, then he DOES experience a radical change, but the needs of the plot dictate that it’s right near the end. And he’s not the focus of the story, baby, wangxian is. He has the last few lines of the story, which nicely communicate his changes to me, but also asdfafas we’re out of story. He was never the main character, it’s not surprising we don’t linger! The extras aren’t beholden to the needs of plot, but they’re also about whatever mxtx wanted to write, and I guess she didn’t feel like writing about Jiang Cheng ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But also. Taking a step backward. Stable characters can fill a perfectly logical place in a story. Like, look at Leia Organa. I’m not saying she has no arc, but I am saying that she’s a solid point of reference as Luke is becoming a jedi and Han is adjusting his perspective. I wouldn’t call her stagnant, the vibes are wrong, but she also isn’t miserable in her sadness swamp, the way Jiang Cheng is.

Or, hell, look at tgcf. The stagnant, frozen nature of the big bad is a central feature of the story. The bwx of now is the bwx of 800 years ago is the bwx of 1500+ years ago. This is not the place for a meta on how that was bad for those around him and for him himself, but I have Thoughts about how being defeated at the end is both a thing that hurts him and relieves him. Mei Nianqing is a sympathetic character who’s also pretty darn static. Does Ling Wen have a character arc, or do we just learn more about who she already is and what her priorities always were? I’m going to cut myself off here, but a character’s delta between the beginning of a story and the end of a story is a reasonable way to judge how interesting writing character meta is, and is a very silly metric to judge their worth, and even if I guessed at what the basic logic is, for this character, I am still baffled that it’s being put forth as a real talking point.

(also, has it jumped ship to any other characters yet? have people started applying it in other fandoms as well? please let me know if this is the case, I am wildly curious)

(no, but really, if anyone is arguing that bwx is gross specifically because he had centuries to self-reflect and didn’t fix himself, i am desperate to know)

And finally. The thing I thought was most self-evident. Did I post about this sometime recently? If a non-central character experiences a life-altering paradigm shift right near the end of the story (without it being lingered over, because non-central character), oh my god. As a fic writer? IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE. This is the most fertile possible ground. If I want to write post-canon canon-compliant material, adsgasfasd that’s where I’m going to be looking. Okay, yeah, the main couple is happy, that’s good. Who isn’t happy, and what can I do about that? Happy families are all alike, while every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way, etc.

It’s not everyone’s favorite playground, but come on, these are not uncommon feelings. And frankly, it’s starting to feel a little disingenuous when people act like fan authors pick out the most blameless angel from the cast and lavish good things upon them. I’m not the only one who goes looking for a good dumpster fire and says I Live Here Now. If I write post-canon tgcf fic, it’s very likely to focus on beef and/or leaf. I have written more than one au focusing on tianlang-jun.

And, hilariously. If the problem with Jiang Cheng. Is that he is a toxic man fictional character who failed to grow on his own, and is either unsafe or unhealthy to be around. If the problem is that he did not experience a character arc. If these people would be totally fine with other people liking him, if he improved himself as a person. And then, if authors want to put in the (free! time-consuming!) work of writing that character development themselves. You would think that they would be lauded for putting the character through healthier sorts of personal growth than he experienced in canon. Instead, I am still here writing this because first, I was bothered by these authors being named as “freaks” who are obsessed with their ‘uwu precious tsundere baby’ with a “love language of violence,” and then I was graciously informed that people hate Jiang Cheng because he experiences no character growth.

[cochineal-leviat]

Hmm, idk. It's a difficult question. On the one hand, Meta Knight comes across as someone honourable and righteous who helps the weak in their power of need. On the other hand, I like petty and sometimes irresponsible Meta, too.

He would agree with the principle, and if you ask if he would pay child support for his supposed child he is not raising, he would say yes and then go on a speech about the importance of nurturing the youth (while Sailor Dee is burning the Halberd in the background). But he would forget to do it and then panic about it later.

it also depends on (this is headcanon territory) at which stage of life he is at. Because I always imagined young adult Meta being an irresponsible dare-devil who spits in the face of authority and loves vigilantism. (nowadays, he cringes at his younger self while regaling his friends and crew about overthrowing governments like some young adult novel protagonist every so month) So I think he would agree with the notion of it, but it is enforced by the government, which complicates it for him.

Also (still headcanon if we're going with the he's a centuries-old Astral who grew up far away from Popstar's galaxy) his views on things might be considered old and outdated by modern Dreamland standards. He seems like the guy to give his kid a sword as his child support and tell them to go fuck shit up. That's the best advice he's ever gotten as a child. (It would align with his ancient species, a warrior-like civilisation. But again, that is just a headcanon)

I like the idea of Meta Knight not knowing how to parent like at all. He came from the time equivalent of medieval space (which took about a thousand years; that's a long time) and thinks all kids like shiny swords and fighting duels. He's not entirely wrong, but he needs a parenting class or a hundred before qualifying to be someone's parent.

A good question is: how did he even get into a situation where he had to pay child support?. My bet is on cloning. That is not too far off with Kirby in universe shenanigans (*side eyes planet Robobot*). He doesn't seem like the type to sire children. He would use space contraceptives. He's stubborn but not an idiot. Welp, I just made myself think if Meta fucks or not. I have to be honest; I don't want that in my head. Ugh. (I rather think most Dreamlanders have the cabbage patch method of creating children. It is cute)

But it would be funny if everyone thought he and Kirby were related and the people of Dreamland expected him to raise his offspring. Or at least pay child support.

(and we've come full circle)

When he doesn't, his usual popularity takes a nosedive because everyone thinks he's a deadbeat dad. But he wouldn't notice until one of his trusted pointed it out since he's so busy with work and eating desserts at ungodly hours. That would make for a good fic or comic idea.

Double points for King Deddede trying to broach the subject and having a hard time with it because, in his species' culture, being a parent is a big deal, and he doesn't want to believe Meta Knight wouldn't be responsible for his maybe, not maybe, yes child. His crew is very blunt and asks him if Kirby is their nephew-in-arms.

Sorry for the tag-like reblog, Morp. I got caught by a brainworm and couldn't let go. I originally wrote it in the tags, but it went so long that I put it in the actual post format for easier reading.

Meta knight from the kirby series :0

[prokyon]

my WIP and other stuff 🐺🌈

[ID: a continental map of a fantasy world, with blue water and beige landmasses overlayed with a paper texture. A white title reading "The Legend of MoonMoon: a novel by Prokyon" is overlayed on top of the map.]

For the last 2 years I have been working on a novel about queer antifascist werewolves.

Early 2019 I came up with the concept of this novel and launched into hardcore developing it in November 2019. In November/December 2020 I wrote a 20,000 word outline of the book, and in 2021 I took advantage of NaNoWriMo to start drafting. By December the draft was at around 10,000 words and I will keep chipping away at it as long as it takes to finish. Affectionately titled "The Legend of MoonMoon: The Dumb Draft" we're aiming to get all the content down on the page and moving on from there. My plan has always been to finish the first draft, then put the book down for a few months and do a bunch more reading and researching in my genre before coming back to rewrites.

So what's the book about? Here's the NaNoWriMo summary, but in a nutshell:

In medieval times, a metalsmith named Vera* self-actualises for a hot minute and after transing their gender, they unwittingly unlock a divine punishment “fuck you and all your sons” werewolf curse. Gender validation in the worst way. A totally-unrelated mauling victim, a plague, and an encroaching empire full of zealots pushes Vera over the edge, and they do their best to right the wrongs of the world by eating fascists.

*Their name changes throughout the story. I don't consider this a spoiler, and outside of the story I refer to the MC as Kass, their final name. The choice to include "Vera" in blurbs and such is for potential readers who are not yet familiar with their character as "Kass" to reduce any "who is this, where's Kass?" confusion.

This is an #OwnVoices story. I myself being a queer, disabled Aboriginal, have built this story from the ground up with my own feelings and experiences around colonisation, queerphobia, ableism, racism, and the intersections of those issues. My intention is to subvert the way media has historically made monsters minority-coded to other us. This story embraces the role as monster and nonconformity, turns it into a tool of empowerment.

I'm a full-time student of conservation and environmental science, so most of the year I am preoccupied with that, HOWEVER:

I've been working to post more regularly in recent months, and you can look forward to more werewolf stuff (WIP updates, memes, drawings!) to come. I frequently post in the story's telegram channel. If you have any questions about the story or world you can always send me a tumblr ask if that's not your jam.

All stuff related to the book on my blog is tagged the enby werewolf thing.

I also stream art and games often on my twitch channel! Streams are archived on the youtube channel if you miss me going live! I'm an excellent gaymer and my regulars are: Assassin's Creed, Skyrim, Ori and the Blind Forest (& WOTW), and RDR2/RDO.

Happy holidays y'all!

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 3

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 3 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Part 1 Part 2

Enjoy <3

I’m such an idiot. I’m an idiot. Why didn’t I lie?! Why didn’t I disprove it? This was it. This was the end of the world. He knew Sirius wouldn’t react terribly badly. He wouldn’t express disgust or resentment, not after Remus confided in him about how sensitive he was on the question of his own sexuality. But it would be painfully awkward. Their connection would never be the same; it couldn’t. Remus dreaded losing his best friend. But it was done. Sirius’ best friend was James anyway. Remus buried his face in his hands as tears stung his eyes. He settled into his new hideout and slept there for the night. He couldn’t bear to face Sirius.

In the morning, Remus made an effort to arrive to Charms class as late as possible, right as Flitwick was commencing his lesson. He slid into the chair at the end of their usual table, next to James. Sirius was on the other end. “Where were you, mate? You scared us,” James whispered. Peter was gazing at Remus over his shoulder.

Remus cleared his throat. “Sorry, fell asleep in my spot,” he said. In his peripheral vision, Sirius was leaning far on the table, trying to catch his attention. But Remus took it upon himself to laser focus on the lesson, his nose buried so deep into his notes, it was nearly touching the parchment.

After the class, he bolted again. He just couldn’t face him. He couldn’t. He returned to his hiding place and waited out his free period and most of lunch. He had to repeat his breathing exercises more than ever. Suddenly, Remus paused. Determination was rising in his chest. Then he forced himself to pull it together. It wasn’t like Remus to run away from his problems. If being a werewolf had taught him anything, it was that neglecting and avoiding your issues doesn’t make them vanish. Makes them worse, even. Also, Remus didn’t have a lot. He had his parents, music, books, magic, and he had his friends. There wasn’t much he prised more than his friendships with James, Sirius and Peter. Sirius knowing about his crush was thoroughly embarrassing, yes, but it wasn’t worth completely losing his friends. Plus, he was due for a shower. So Remus took a few more deep breaths, dusted himself off, and headed for the dorm. When he got there, nobody was inside. He took his sweet time in the shower, allowing the warm water to drain out more of his nervous energy. I can handle this.

When Remus got out, Sirius was there, lying on his stomach, doing homework. He looked up. Remus put on a brave face and said: “Hi.” Sirius’ worried expression was exchanged with a slightly more relaxed one. “Hi.” Remus sat on his own bed looking in Sirius’ general direction, but not quite at him, cleared his throat, and said: “Um, sorry I bolted. That was childish.”

“That’s alright,” Sirius replied in the tiniest voice. It was very unlike his usual loud, assertive self.

Remus wanted the bed to swallow him whole, but he pushed through. “We don’t have to talk about the... thing. Or acknowledge it. It’s not a big deal, really.” A lie. But it needed to be done. Sirius didn’t say anything. Remus was certain he didn't know what to say. Reaching into his bag, Remus retrieved his Charms textbook and started on his own homework. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sirius still looking at him for another minute, then he went back to work. The silence was agonising and tense, but Remus had known it would be. They would just have to persevere. After a while, Sirius asked: “Hey, could you help me with this? It’s Arithmancy. I procrastinated, and now I have to hand it in in half an hour.” Remus snorted. Their next class was Arithmancy, and only he and Sirius took it. So, Sirius was choosing to act like nothing happened. That was okay with Remus. “Sure.”

Only, as it happens, Sirius didn’t ignore it. Throughout the next week, he started acting a little peculiar. He was still loud and fooling around, but he would also hold doors for Remus, for example. If anyone knew Sirius, they knew doors were either held for him, or he would just swing them open and let them slam behind him into the next person’s face. Even James noticed it and asked him if he had brain damage. Also, a couple times at meals, Sirius would scoot his seat closer to Remus’, making their arms brush while they ate. The first time it happened, Remus blushed so profusely, he could see giant pink splotches splattered all over his neck and cheeks in his reflection in one of the large silver bowls on the table. Sirius stopped calling him ‘mate’ too. Occasionally, he’d ask for help with his homework, even though he clearly didn’t need it. It all made Remus want to shoot himself in the face with a hex. It seemed like Sirius was pitying him, and he despised it. It was somehow worse than Sirius being awkward and distant around him.

January’s full moon fell on the 25th, and Remus’ transformation didn’t go particularly smoothly. It was likely one of the worst ones out of all those he spent with his friends as animagi. He was fairly confident it was because of the whole Sirius thing. Just because he decided to deal with it didn’t mean it wasn’t taking its toll. Remus was stressed all the time. Not just because of Sirius, of course, but that was a key factor. When he woke up in the hospital wing the following morning, his friends were there. James rambled on enthusiastically about an upcoming Quidditch match. Remus didn’t really comprehend half of it, but still tried to nod at appropriate times. Peter piped in once in a while to agree with James or add something. Sirius, however, was completely silent the whole visit. About an hour later, Madam Pomfrey chased James, Sirius and Peter out, but Remus didn’t mind too much. He was knackered. He drifted off to sleep before the boys were even out the door.

Later that day, at dusk, Remus sat in his hospital bed reading a muggle novel when Sirius popped in. Or rather sneaked in. He was alone this time. “Had a free period. Thought you might want some company,” he explained. Elation started brewing in Remus’ stomach.

“Oh, brilliant, thanks.”

“What are you up to, then?” Sirius sat on the bed.

Remus lifted his book. “Reading. Not much to do here, really.”

“Sweet. Will you read to me?”

“What?”

Sirius smiled. “Will you read out loud for me?” He turned around, plopped on the bed face-up with his boots propped up on the railing at the foot of the bed. He tucked his hands behind his head, half lying on Remus’ legs.

“Oh, okay.” Heat sneaked up Remus’ neck. He read to Sirius until it was almost time for him to leave for his next class.

“Transfiguration next. Think I’m gonna gouge out my eyes if we don’t move on from teacup to gerbil.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it. You mastered it two lessons ago.” Remus rolled his eyes, smiling. Sirius let out a soft laugh.

“Moony...” He was now sitting on the bed next to Remus. “I feel like this is my fault.” He reached out and gently touched the bandage on Remus’ arm. Sirius was referring to Remus’ beat-up state.

“What? Of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Well, because of the... You know... I mean, you’re upset and-“ Remus’ heartbeat picked up swiftly. They hadn’t so much as mentioned the crush since that day in the dorm.

“I’m not upset. Really. I just have a lot on my mind.” He searched his brain for something more to say to make Sirius feel better. It wasn’t his fault at all. It was Remus’ for letting this bother him so much. “It’s not you.”

“You sure?” His eyes were so sad; it was painful.

“Yes, Sirius, really. It’s not you, okay?”

“Okay.” After a pause, Sirius continued: “Oh, I almost forgot. Brought you something.” He smiled, finally. After rummaging in his bag, Sirius emerged with a stack of chocolate bars and dropped them into Remus’ lap. They were Remus’ favourite. Warmth fluttered across his chest. Sirius had to have ordered these from Honeydukes. Now it was Remus’ time to smile.

“Oh, brilliant! Thanks, Sirius.”

“No problem. Right. I better clear off, then. I can’t handle another detention with Minnie for something as stupid as being late.”

“Right. See you in the dorm then.”

“See ya, Moony. Oh, loved the reading. We should definitely do that again!” Then he walked out the door. Remus’ cheeks flamed crimson. He sank deep into the covers, yanking them over his head. He’s gonna be the death of me.

***

After that visit at the hospital, another strange thing started happening. On several occasions, Remus caught Sirius staring at him, then quickly looking away when their eyes connected. In class, at meals, in the common room as the four of them sat in front of the fireplace doing homework. It made Remus very nervous and a little confused. Furthermore, with James’ upcoming match, Sirius and Remus found themselves alone more often than not. James either had practice or was in the library going over tactics for his team, and Peter loved tagging along. When Sirius and Remus were alone in the dorm, Sirius would usually suggest that Remus read to him. At first, they were in their respective beds, but then Sirius started sneaking onto Remus’ bed as he read. It made Remus’ heart thump every time, because Sirius Black in his bed, well. That was a sight to see. He would lounge on his back, one ankle over the other, hands behind his head, eyes shut, and listen. He never fell asleep. Occasionally, he would laugh or comment on an interesting segment.

One of those times, both of them were on Remus’ bed as Remus read “A Stranger in a Strange Land” by Robert A. Heinlein. Sirius liked the muggle books. He was in his usual disposition, with half of his hair loosely and messily pulled back with a hair tie. Remus adored that look on Sirius. He was sitting cross-legged in level with Sirius’ hips, with the book sprawled onto his lap.

“Hey, got a cig,” Sirius asked as Remus was turning the page.

“Yep.” He used Accio to fetch his rolling equipment from his bedside table, placed the contents on the rizla and performed his spell. It rolled smoothly, the tobacco and filter tucked tightly into the paper. He’d been practising.

“Hey, that’s one thing off your resolutions list,” Sirius said, smiling as he accepted the cigarette. Their fingers touched.

“Well, technically, it’s two, isn’t it...,” Remus trailed off, clearing his throat. Christ, why did I say that?! He could already feel the blood rushing in his ears. Maybe Sirius wouldn’t get the reference... But Sirius pushed himself onto his elbows and peered at him. Remus pretended to pack up his cigarette equipment with intense concentration. Sirius sat all the way up and leaned so close, Remus could feel his breath. Nervousness sparked off goosebumps all over Remus’ skin. He swallowed thickly. Sirius smelled of mint and expensive shampoo. “Moony,” he said, and Remus finally turned to face him. Their noses were less than two centimetres apart. Remus’ heart was hammering against his ribs.

Sirius glanced at his lips, then slowly leaned in and closed the distance. Remus fluttered his eyes shut as adrenaline set his insides ablaze. The kiss was warm and gentle. “Sirius..,” Remus started, but the other boy just connected their lips again, this time kissing him more eagerly, and Remus just gave over. Sirius was letting him know this wasn’t charity; he really wanted it. He licked into Remus’ mouth delicately, grasping the back of his neck to pull him closer. Remus had never had a real tongue kiss before, but Sirius was leading him, and it all came naturally. Without warning, he felt tears burning behind his closed eyes. Remus had never, not even for a moment, let himself get caught up in the idea of Sirius liking him back. He knew rejection would shatter his soul, and he couldn’t let himself be torn apart by his own fantasies. But it wasn’t a fantasy anymore, and Remus was overwhelmed with the relief of letting go. Of finally allowing himself to crave what he'd been pushing down for months. His favourite person wanting him back. He entwined his fingers into Sirius’ hair and kissed him back intensely. They were both breathing heavily, then Sirius placed his other palm on Remus’ upper thigh. A tingling sensation shot up his lower back as he inhaled a long breath through his nose. Sirius was remarkably skilled, Remus noted.

Remus lost all sense of time. He didn’t know how long they kissed, it simultaneously felt like minutes and hours. Suddenly, they leapt apart as steps and chatter echoed on the stairs leading to the dorm. Sirius stood up and hurriedly smoothed down his hair. Remus wiped his lips with the back of his hand and frantically covered his lap with the covers. He was tight in his trousers. Christ. He wondered whether Sirius noticed as the heat blazed his cheeks. Peter and James trudged into the room, still talking.

“Alright lads,” James said, sauntered to his bed and started taking off his Quidditch robes.

Sirius cleared his throat, then said: “Uh, yeah. Brilliant.” His voice came out lower that usual.

"Bloody amazing practice today!"

“Oh, you guys Should have seen them! I could barely keep track of the Quaffle! Ravenclaw hasn’t got a chance,” Peter prattled on, but Remus couldn’t focus. His brain was whirring a thousand miles a minute. Holy shit, was the only coherent sentence his mind could congregate. He could still feel the the ghost of Sirius’ kiss on his lips.

Minutes later, Sirius returned to his usual banter and mucking about with James. If something different was going on inside his head, it didn’t show. A sudden arrow of disappointment and yearning shot through Remus’ chest. Was this just a one-off? His excitement dwindled for a moment, but when he glanced over to Sirius again, he was already looking at him. They smiled at each other. It didn’t matter anyway. Remus felt like this kiss could power his brain for all eternity. It had been like something straight out of a dream.

Part 4 will probably take me a little longer, given that I basically had the first 3 parts drafted when I posted the first one. Also 4 will probs be the last one. Hope you like it so far! :) <3

Part 1 Part 2