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angelwhisp3rs · 10 months ago

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⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ nuance

Pairing: DI!Leon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Always at eachothers throats, they just don't know they've been doing that in a lot of ways.

Tags: Smut; fluff; p in v; oral (m); i imagined reader being 23-25 and leon in his late thirties; breeding kink; brush play (shh its hot don't judge it); reader is called bunny; daddy kink; enemies to ???; leon is a perfect soft dom; clit spanking;

Notes: hehe older leon makes heart go brr; also: i changed the characters in the header, bc jasmine and alladin looked whitewashed (i always put a filter on the header to tone down the colors on the collage bc i always think they look like a hot mess unfiltered). I wanted to apologize and explain to clear any misunderstanding, and i'm sorry to have ever caused any doubts, i aim to make this a safe space for everyone!

Minors do not interact!

Whenever they went on the field, the rest of the agency always wondered how they came back alive, seeming as if they could, they would the other by their own hands, no need for bio-weapons. They were always bickering, Leon with his cocky ways, and her with her serious and diligent one.

No one ever understood how they worked, but their results never lied: a mission that usually took weeks, was successfully squashed in days; their cases solved higher than anyone else’s in the whole organization.

Everyone kept teasing Leon for working with a “human leash”, while the women teased her for not trying anything with him, since he was so ‘perfect and dreamy’ - their words, she would rather be dead than ever say that.

It always bothered him how she was too correct. Always with a bun in her hair, and her squared glasses, she hated whenever they didn’t follow her plans, believing that Leon definitely had a death wish, and was pulling her into a suicide mission every time.

In her case, it bothered her that he was a show-off, always doing way more than it was needed, just to prove how “awesome” and “skilled” he was. While fighting with an infected with chainsaws, instead of just walking back, he just did a fucking flip. Why?? He saved the president’s daughter, for fucks sake, there was no need to prove people that the was the goat. That encounter always made her seethe, since when he ended the battle, she only looked baffled at him as his cocky smirk never fell once from his stupid, and way too handsome face.

On the field and in life, they always had their differences, wondering everyone how they kept being scheduled together, but with the interesting thing that life is, they managed to find just one place where they could meet their interests.

'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵'•.¸♡ ♡¸.•'

“Just like that, bunny”, he grunted breathless, hips moving to meet her face, holding her hair in place.

Fucking her pretty throat as her eyes got teary, he felt how thigh and warm it always was, always begging to be fucked with his big cock. Her hair was down, her cheeks all blushy and she behaved beautifully on her knees, Leon sitting on his bed as he drilled into her sweet hole.

“Love fucking you like this. Always the perfect way to celebrate the end of our missions”

She whined in agreement, her face wet, as her spit coated his member and his heavy balls, since he hadn’t fucked his pretty toy in so long. She gagged and rolled her eyes back, loving being used as a fuck doll, seeing that hunk lose himself in pleasure as he used her smaller body.

“G’nna give my bunny her favorite meal”

He grunted out, cumming in her throat and making her swallow it all, watching as a line of spit connected her abused lips and the pink head of his fat cock. He had a relieved and proud smile as he panted, pulling her up to sit on his lap and pressing kisses to her overworked lips and sensitive neck.

“So proud, baby. Daddy's little throat sleeve, aren't you? Gonna reward you for being such a good little girl”

He spread her legs as she sat on his lap, her hips squirming on his hold, making him hiss as she ground her perfect ass on his spent and sensitive member. At that, he slapped her right thigh, making her whine.

“Don't make me punish you, bunny. Daddy just wants to play properly with his toy”

“Too needy, daddy, ‘m sorry”

Leon taking pity on her, managed to lock her legs apart with his strong ones, letting his fingertips travel through her soft skin.

“I know, baby girl. Bunny always needs her little cunt to be played with, and I've been neglecting you, hm? Don't worry, gonna reward you for being such a good doll for me”

With a slight and feathery touch, he caressed her thighs, moving up to the top of her mound, and descending to her wet and puffy cunt.

“Will you let me stretch and play with this hole, baby? Till you are too sore to close your legs?”

She whined in response, nodding eagerly.

“Yeah, it's gonna feel so nice, isn't it, bunny? Then, I'll use you some more since you are gonna display yourself so nicely for me”

As he said his filthy words, his teasing fingers began to softly touch her pussy up and down, just barely there. She was creamy for him as if he taught her pussy to get ready for his thick dick.

She tried inching her hips up, desperate for more friction, but he put his fingers away, slapping her clit. This made her keen and throb around the air, the pain feeling welcoming on her puffy, wet button.

“Fuck… I knew you were gonna enjoy that. Little sluts love to feel pain, right? And I just got the prettiest one to play with”

He spanked her cunt again, making her sob at the friction, her hunger heightening tenfold since it's been weeks since she felt any contact at all.

“Daddy, please… need you to play with my pussy”

“Behave and I will then”

Taking pity on the girl, his fingers circled her clit with a little more pressure than the last time, his other hand scissoring her lips open to grant direct contact with her. She moaned and tried to keep her hips from moving, squirming just a little as his fingers brought her into delirium.

“Good job, bunny. Let me use you, daddy's just gonna appreciate his bunny's little cunt.”

He stayed like this for minutes, till she creamed on his fingers, her thighs almost cramping from being spread like that. After she came, he massaged her legs, kissing her cheeks and jaw.

“That's it, baby, made me so proud. I know you are sensitive, but can daddy play with you some more?”

He asked as he pinched and rolled her erect nipples, making her clench again around nothing as she squirmed on top of him. She nodded, and he grabbed something from his nightstand that she couldn't see.

“Saw this on a video and almost came in my pants. Kept imagining myself playing with my baby like that as she made a mess”

He moved her to lay comfortably on the bed, letting her spread her legs again. He pressed an adoring kiss to her clit, making her moan. He chuckled, groaning at her taste on his lips.

“As much as I wanna eat this pussy, don't wanna overwhelm you. Later I will, angel”

Then, he grabbed what he had hidden from her sight: a makeup brush. The bristles looked soft, with a round top. She looked at him curious and kinda unsure: is he seriously planning to fuck her with his thin thing?

He chuckled at her reaction. “Not gonna do what you think I will, doll. And I promised I washed it thoroughly before you came, I didn't want to harm you. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, and it was the truth. As she trusted him with her life on the field, she trusted him to heighten their pleasures to highs she had never felt. She was always pleasantly surprised whenever he planned something new, so she trusted him to make it good.

Sensing her newfound trust, he tentatively toyed with her clit as he brushed it gently, her hips twitching at the new feeling, not feeling bad at all.

“Good, bunny?”

“Yeah, daddy”

Glad with her approval, he kept “brushing” her cunt as if he was a painter making his new masterpiece. He always pressed the item firmer on her swollen little clit, watching as her slick gathered on the item and her entrance.

He grunted at her moans and the sight. The video was hot, sure, but seeing this in front of him made him want to go crazy and fuck his cock into the sheets like a fucking teen.

She was sensitive already from the spanks and his fingers, and now the soft bristles made her pleasure skyrocket. He began rolling and going back and forth with it, and she knew that she was done.

“D-daddy!”

“That's it, baby, cum again. Let daddy keep having his masterpiece”

She groaned and held tightly onto the pillow underneath her head, legs shaking but not daring to close as he played with her, her heartbeat quickening by the second.

Soon enough, she came hard, seeing stars. It wasn't a completely different feeling or a potent sex toy, but the novelty and thought behind it made it so hot that she swears that she almost passed out.

He kissed up her legs, letting her lay down on her side as she shivered in pleasure, moving behind her and hugging her.

“That good, bunny?”

“Y-yeah, fuck. Don't even know why” She giggled, her mind pushed deeply into that sweet and welcoming submissive place her job never allowed her to reach, but the asshole behind always granted her.

“It looked even hotter to see. Cock throbbed so much I thought I would cum untouched.”

“Maybe you are losing your hand, daddy”

“Says the shaking bunny from a mere brush”

She giggled, turning her head back and kissing him. Her gentle hands moved to his hair to let her fingers caress it as his strong and big hands push her more into him, trying to be patient but his cock screamed for attention.

“Daddy, want more” She begged between the kisses.

“So do I, bunny. Let my fat dick kiss your womb, baby”

He raised her leg to his hips, allowing both to keep spooning as he gently slid his shaft in her, groaning at her wetness and warmth. He put his foot down on the bed to use as leverage, and as he held onto her flesh, he began thrusting.

The position was so intimate that it made his mind think things that he never had before. And honestly, it made his heart ache the same way it had done previously with Ada. Fuck, he didn't want to think about that now.

He fucked her harder to make him forget about it, which wasn't hard since that was the first opportunity he had, other than her great blow job, to properly blow his load inside his bunny's hole.

She held tightly onto his hand, the other one supporting her leg up too, as she screamed and drooled in pleasure, completely cock drunk. He groaned at his baby's situation and moved his hand to her abused clit to rub it again.

“Can't hold it, you were so hot, baby… gonna blow my load deep into that delicious” thrust, “wet” another thrust, “thigh” another one, “cunt” he thrust harder.

She was babbling nonsense, feeling the welcomed pressure on her lower tummy again, begging him to cum in her and breed his bunny. Her voice and pussy tightening around him made Leon feel like he was about to explode, so he kissed her roughly.

Both came together as they shared a kiss, her legs shaking as they felt him coating her gummy walls with his much-needed cum. He gently lowered her leg, staying inside her as he kissed her neck, tending to her gently to not make her drop.

Sex was always the best way to find a middle ground, after all. Maybe tomorrow they would be back at screaming in each other's faces, but with their voices just a little strained, since right now they only wanted to scream in pleasure.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #leon x reader #leon smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy death island

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fatesundress · 1 year ago

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⭑ sunlight parallel pseudostars. tom riddle x reader

summary. your reunion is long overdue for the small thing it should be, sacred for the dingy place it finds you, and most consequentially, entirely on purpose.

tags. gn afab reader, part one of an inevitable part two but this one is just pining because nonny asked so nicely, yes there is fluff but it's a tom pov, so... i do what i can, post-hogwarts, mutual pining (but emphatically, arduously, overwhelmingly tom), tom and reader were hopeless fools in school who never confessed their feelings for each other, legilimency/occlumency training as flirting, reader definitely filter searches the slow burn tag, self-cockblocking, i can't tell if this is ooc even by my own delusional standards, hopeful 'ending' as an apology for my last tom fic, please accept this humble offering

note. finished my first request!! who knew i could do it! i apologize first and foremost for my inactivity and i want to say WOAHHH thank you so much for 400! i'm hoping to make up for my absence by turning this into either a two-parter or a longer mini-series. i did actually forcibly refrain from ending this in smut because i want to try my hand at a slightly slower-burn since my usual preference is like... at least 100k words of longing stares before they even hold hands. i'm trying my best.

word count. 4.9k

There’s something, at least, in the far table at the right side of the bar, that makes the process a tad less dull. It’s somehow quieter here than his flat over Knockturn, sparse with a few old wizards with beards caught in the froth of their cups, Tom’s bend of the pub warm from the fire, crackling with kindling and the scratch of his quill, drizzled in moonlight tealish enough to remind him of the Slytherin common room when little else does nowadays. Something — yes. A tolerable reprieve. The sort of monotony he likes.

As opposed to Caractacus Burke’s constant, doltish solicitations; Tom ponders when the day will come that the man strikes a deal so dumb it lights the tip of someone’s wand green and kills him. It doesn’t drive Tom to any immense grief to consider. On particularly tedious days, he staves off boredom by imagining doing it himself.

But this reprieve can only serve him so well. Tom doesn’t drink — certainly not the dreck they serve here, though he doubts even the finest of wines could tempt him to obfuscate his better senses — doesn’t dance, doesn’t take anyone home even on the rare occasion there’s someone in this pub of bearable taste (except the one time, and that was more a case study than a surrender to gratification). Essentially, he sits at his table and steals the heat and the barkeeps are wise enough to let him.

He’s mused over the exact verbiage of this tome for days. Alchemical equations are the one thing that still occasionally stump him, and Tom is eager to rectify that.

He puts quill to parchment. It bleeds when he comes up short of words. He holds infinitesimally tighter, and the ink spreads like tendrils imagined in the dark; the sort of amorphous shapes that appear on the ceiling when all the lights have gone out. He stares. He lets the shapes form, but finds nothing informative in them, and so sets his quill down and watches leaves fall from the chestnut tree splitting open the sidewalk outside.

Cold air wafts in when the door groans open. There’s the click of dress shoes and a murmur at the bar, followed by a tumbler shaking and a glass being poured.

“Oh, no — er — that one always sits alone,” he hears the barkeep say to the dress shoes.

Tom refrains from turning his head.

“Doesn’t like to be bothered,” he adds, dress shoes skidded to a halt.

A pause. A sense of eyes on him Tom elects to ignore.

“I know.”

There’s a smile in that voice. He remembers it. The teeth of it, the lips, the tongue that sometimes darts between them.

It must be very late.

He’ll look up and realise there are things other than wine that can addle a person. Too many books, not enough books, not enough sleep, a day gone by without a single spell cast, an itch for control, wanting and not having, and,

you, after all this time.

The lattermost two have for a long time been the same.

Your hair is different than it was before, your figure presented in the rarity of your own clothes when he’s so accustomed to your school robes, but it would be rather bizarre if you ever wore those again. You’re too modern for muggle and magical alike — trousers and a formal shirt, hair somewhere between kempt and wind-blown, the aforementioned nice shoes Scourgified to a squeaky black as you come closer. (You’re coming closer. What a revelation.) A drink floats beside you, your fingers undulating softly to maintain the charm.

“You,” he says, like he doesn’t remember.

You grin. “Me. Sharp as ever, Tom. You look it too.”

The nebulous shape of acumen returns to him and it’s disarming enough to be disarmed — on principle it should not be occurring — but you also should not be here.

He stands. You present your hand as if practised for the proper convention of having it taken, October-cold gloves soft when his lips press to one and he wonders if the skin beneath is softer, or if callouses mar the mounts of your palm. He lingers as the thought does. (What are you up to now? Are you tried by new labours like he is; your knuckles hard from the work? Would they feel voltaic to touch as they once did?)

“Sit, please.”

Increments of re-introduction tie him to the tangible instead of unfurling from the knots of why you’re here or how you’re here, which cannot possibly be tethered to reality because for all the hours he’s been with you, none in the last three years have happened awake.

There are the dark shapes on his ceiling again. The scraps won’t last. He’ll need to know the details.

You’ll want to tell.

You take a seat in the chair he pushes out for you, glass sinking onto the table where the condensation immediately shades a ring into the wood. “This wasn’t where I’d expected to find you, you know.”

“No?” Tom asks, returning to his seat, “I wasn’t expecting you to find me anywhere, so the surprise is mutual.”

“I’d have written to warn you, but it was easier to find the places you frequent than the one you live in — wouldn’t know how to get my owl to you directly, you know — and I’m sure that’s not an accident.”

“I feel strangely as though I’m being accused of something.”

“Mm. Your guilty conscience.”

He smiles reflexively. Old habits. “I’m sure.”

You smile too, at least. “You know, when we left school, I gave it — what — two years before you were the youngest Minister of Magic in British history?”

“Then I’ve disappointed you.”

“No, I think I knew you well enough once to know even now that the fact that you aren’t only means you have something better in mind. I’ll have to trust your judgement, because I can’t imagine what that could possibly be.” You take a sip of your drink, twirling your straw as you do. “Come to think of it, though, brooding over a book in an establishment you patronise enough to have all the workers trained to leave you alone despite not even knowing your name is… very Tom.”

“That one appears to have done a poor job,” he says with a glance at the barkeep. “You’re over here disrupting me. I think I’ll rescind my tip.”

“Still funny, too.”

“Still indecorous.”

“Still saying things like indecorous. You’d better tip, Riddle.”

“Be good company and I might.”

“Oh, I see. I need to prove that I’m a worthy disruption.”

“I was reading a very good book.”

The book was rubbish. His moleskin has roughly four lines of notes jotted on its open page, which he closes promptly, and hopes it doesn’t seem done with too much gravity. Your eyes like to wander, he recalls. Your hands, absentmindedly, too.

Torturous creature you are.

“I missed you,” you say, like you’ve never had the good sense of holding your tongue, or armouring your heart, or not feeding an animal without first seeing the size of its teeth.

You are so withholding with your work, and so generous with yourself. He wishes you wouldn’t offer him so much. He’s never had the kindness not to take everything you let him.

“You missed me,” he prompts, already asking for more.

“I missed disrupting you. No one else lets me — or calls me indecorous, and still lets me.”

“You were quite studious, in case you’ve forgotten. More literate than disruptive.”

You raise a brow. “My, I’ve never had a man call me literate before, and I’ve been courted plenty. I’m swooning.”

(Note: you’ve been courted plenty?)

“Inventive, then? Erudite?”

“Do go on.”

“I shouldn’t. I believe you were describing the manner in which you missed me.”

“It was just the one, unfortunately.”

“Why did you find me?”

This generates pause, at least, and that intrigues him.

Addendum: “Why now?”

“I was around,” you decide on, “and I haven’t been in a long time.”

You wanted to continue your studies after Hogwarts. He thinks he remembers that conversation; academics were the topic of most of your discussions, after all. Anything deeper was incidental, crumbs scraped off a plate at the end of a meal.

“Where did you go?”

You drink again. “Portugal, after school. But that was — it’s a bit of a story. I ended up at an academy in Iceland doing a few very boring, ultimately useless courses on spell creation and wandlore. Will you be horrible if I tell you I’m here because I left in the middle of term? Because then I didn’t tell you.”

“I suppose I knew you well enough once to know even now you wouldn’t have left unless you had something better in mind.”

You beam at him, and he acknowledges briefly that it feels like a reward the same way solving a problem does.

“I found you —” (You are far too generous; the question was already answered and here you are offering more) — “because I considered everyone I wanted to see again and you were the first person I thought of. I don’t like to deny myself the little things.”

“No,” he says, “you don’t.”

Rain trickles down the window, and the cool dark of autumn obscures half of your face. He wishes it didn’t, and that’s bizarre.

“I’ll be doing a course in Occlumency in Norway in the new year.”

Oh?

“I know you were always quite good at Legilimency, so don’t start,” you add hastily.

He itches not to smile. It is truth and not arrogance to say that quite good is an understatement.

“I didn’t know you had an interest.”

You scoff. “Please, everyone has an interest. It’s just hopeless for most of us, and painful to be hopeful to learn something so hopeless.”

“Well-put. A terrible ego punch for you, I’m sure.”

“It was. Until I tried Occlumency and realised I’m quite good at that, and then the wound closed a bit.”

“Glad to hear it. You’re honing the skill?”

“Slowly but surely.”

“And — you’re here seeking a teacher?”

“Oh, stop. I told you why I’m here. But if you’re — oh!” You frown suddenly. “Didn’t you say that you were going to apply for DADA after graduation?”

Ah, that. “Denied, unfortunately.”

“Seriously? On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that I’m too young.”

That and the matter of Albus Dumbledore and the air that is ceaselessly wasted on his breath.

“Oh, please; half the staff are over eighty, I imagine it might be nice to have a professor who doesn’t forget to grade their assignments every other week. You were Head Boy! That’s completely mad.”

“You’ll have to write an owl.”

“I could.” And you sigh, and stir your half-empty drink of what must be less than ten percent alcohol and ninety percent spice and apple. “Would you… would you mind, though? If your schedule isn’t terribly busy?”

“Teaching you?”

“Helping me with something I’m already good at,” you correct, “as an excuse for me not to go back to a very frilly muggle hotel by myself after coming all this way to find you.”

He echoes the part of that sentence that matters least — your invitation is all that counts, but he has no wish to make that obvious when you’ve always done this, always tugged on a string you seem unaware even exists. “Frilly muggle hotel?”

“What? I used to go to them when I was on holiday. Didn’t I tell you that?”

No. He would have clung onto it if you had. He didn’t even know you had the money for things like that after two wars, but then maybe that was something new. How would you have attained it while in school, though? An untimely familial demise? A wealthy suitor? You wore no ring. You came back to him.

Illegible signs for him to attempt to read.

“Well?” you ask, pulling two sickles from your pocket and leaving them on the table.

His answer is yes, naturally.

It’s absurd you even feel the need to ask; your reunion is long overdue for the small thing it should be, because of the small thing you were, sacred for the dingy place it finds you, and most consequentially, entirely on purpose. You didn’t stumble upon each other in the aisles of a shop after years gone by, pressured into empty conversation for the courtesy of it. You missed him, so you found him — and Tom thinks he’s been missed before, in some vague sense by some people blurred long ago by unimportance, but — found? He reconciles not finding you himself by assuring he will make something of this.

“For a worthy distraction,” he says, putting down two sickles to match.

You grin, and he takes your arm again as you thank the barkeep and depart into the slow drizzle of the street.

You tell him of Ponte de Lima and the rootless craters of Myvatn, of old cathedral spires and covens masked as monasteries. You detail the scenery like you detailed your essays in school, and it makes the ennui of London marginally better — that you are walking it with him, talking about beautiful things, in a night dark enough he might not notice the usual absence of them here.

And then, as you step onto busier streets, you say you missed this too, and he is jealous beyond sense of the architectural blemish of Piccadilly Circus.

He glances away from you and the invisible path to your hotel for the first time since issuing Wizarding London for Muggle.

It’s a crowded tableau. The post-war square is spangled with flashbulb advertisements and buskers and skinny double buses orbiting Eros atop his fountain. People skip from hotel bars and teahouses in trench coats and long skirts. Someone outside the Trocadero looks dressed for burlesque. Storefront letters hiccup light through power abscesses and imminent bursts, and the lights… The lights herald cigarettes and chewing gum and Coca Cola and performances at the theatres on Coventry Street.

You light up with them, sunlight parallel pseudostars. Tom feels half-blinded. He isn’t sure by which.

“You missed London?” he asks. It’s hard to hide in his tone how much he cannot imagine a reason why. All of the things you described in your travels sound better than this.

“I missed home.”

He possesses only a theoretical understanding of what that must feel like. The word itself is a thing long gone. There was Hogwarts, but it was never his.

“Well — I miss this,” you amend, “which I never remembered being like this, and maybe it wasn’t. All I saw in anything growing up was shelter. I’d look at buildings and imagine which ones could survive bombs, and which ones would shatter under gunfire. Since coming back, I’ve liked seeing it a different way. The lights, the people — The Criterion; they’ve a section called the Witches Cauldron, which is very risqué. You would hate it.”

His mouth twitches at the corners. “Risqué?"

“Mhm. Women with skirts over the thighs, men with skirts over the thighs, music with questionable lyrics, and really, borderline indecent comedy. But I think that's the heart of muggle theatre — the good kind, anyway."

“So I was right in calling you indecorous.”

“Hardly. I’m an observer.”

“Upstanding, then.”

You tug playfully at his sleeve. “Saintly.”

“You might revisit those churches in Portugal.”

“And you might learn to let something go. We’re here.”

He looks up at the little dais of steps before the big arch of your hotel door, stones cracked here and there, cigarette stubs smushed at his feet, and back at you, an inviting smile on your face.

“Come on.” You take his arm again and guide him in.

The lobby is all dark wood carved like lace. Fretwork in the moulding, fretwork at the counters, fretwork in the thick columns bolstering the mezzanine; and there, tables with seats turned to face the sound of music, the dulcet flicker of candlelight over plates of food that smell sweet for the hour. As you lead him up the stairs, he gives you a look that warns this was not what he was promised, but you shush him and he abides.

You are lucky for his intrigue. You are lucky for the dullness of his teeth at the maw of his hunger. He doesn’t pretend to understand — he thinks he likes not understanding.

The music gets louder. He can see the entire mezzanine from the top of the stairs; a woman is singing, a man is playing saxophone, the tables are set for dessert, and the plates are almost all licked clean.

You’re watching with the flicker of candles caught in your eyes now, grip imperceptibly tighter on his arm as you lean in to whisper. “There’s something new every night. Yesterday there was the most beautiful pianist. And they served this lemon pudding — tonight I think it’s… torte? It’s chocolate, at least. It smells amazing.”

“Did you want to stay?”

He did not. It was a courtesy question.

“Just for a song?” you ask, rather more sheepish than suits you.

Just for a song, then.

You press against his shoulder. You’re warm, despite the cold walk.

“Do you ever practise on them?" he asks.

“Legilimency?” You shake your head. “I usually refrain from digging into the thoughts of innocent muggles.”

He raises a brow. “And the bad muggles?"

“I should like to do worse to the bad muggles."

He smiles. You smile too, though you resist it for a moment. “You're as wretched as you were in school."

“Wretched, was I? And what would I have found, if I'd sought out your thoughts back then?"

You laugh, face canted toward the performance. “Thoughts of Os on every O.W.L, what Slughorn meant by a semi-formal dress code, how to get into the kitchens at night..." You turn to him again. “And you? Do I dare ask what I would have found in yours?"

“Hm. Secrets.”

“Damn you.”

The saxophone swells before the last note fizzles out, the contralto timbre of the woman’s voice washed out by a small round of applause. You clap with the other guests, glance over at Tom, frown, take his hands and force them together. He doesn’t resist, but he certainly doesn’t aid the motion. His hands are instead idly patted together, palms hitting the sleeves of his coat and making for a very poor ovation.

You give up without much effort, fingers looping beneath one of his cuffs to lead him back to the staircase.

“Wretched,” you repeat.

You search your coat pocket for your key as you walk up the stairs, remarking the artwork on the walls and evidence of a drunk muggle man who spilled champagne on his way to bed last night — you tell him to watch his step, and he averts the side of the stairs where dark spots pepper the carpet. The place is fine elsewise. You mentioned the risqué of The Criterion and he can see notes of it here, in the late night music and the drinking and a few ogling men among the guests, but it’s nicer on the inside than he’d assumed by the exterior, and you can certainly handle yourself amongst debauchees without wands.

Tom stops when you do. Your room is the furthest at the end of the third floor corridor.

“Welcome,” you say, as the key clicks and the door swings open.

A frilly muggle hotel indeed. You flick a switch and the chandelier ignites, dim but extravagant. You go to light a few additional candles at the dresser and windowsill, clipping floral drapes aside as you do. The bed, a queen, matches the fabric of the drapes, with a thick lace skirt and golden brass rails. There’s a small table and two chairs, plush with cushions that loop through the spine and knot like hair ribbons. You tuck your wand away after the room has been brightened and fix him with a look that says, I told you.

“It’s clean,” is all the opinion he offers.

“Hard to make a mess in two days.”

A rather uncharacteristic thought crosses him. He can imagine ways which would not be so difficult.

“Of course.”

“Did you want anything? I could call for room service. Wine? Chocolate torte?”

“I’m more curious to observe your Occlumency firsthand.”

“Right. I’ve been depriving you.” You sit on the edge of the bed and slip off your coat. “I meant what I said, though; I’m good at it.”

“A battle of wills, then.” And he pulls a chair from the little table by the window, sitting it across from you.

You make a face. “This is why I studied with you and never challenged you to anything.”

“Perhaps you should have.”

“Perhaps… I might have saved myself from the predicament I’m in now.”

“You brought me here.”

“I did.”

“You enjoy the predicament,” he guesses.

You smile. “I do.”

He leans in with his arms at the wooden rests of his chair, fixed on the space between your eyes and then the apples of your cheeks, looking for new scars or freckles or stray eyelashes to cast wishes on. Mostly he wonders what’s underneath. That you have presented him the opportunity, even to wonder, feels almost like a wish granted. And Tom is not the sort of man to make them.

But here you are, and the room is quiet, and your gloves sound soft rolling off your fingers, and he should take a chance on one now. He should be greedy. He should want for more.

“Shall I count to three?”

He does. He does want more.

“Whenever you’re ready,” you say, and he can see you steel yourself before his soft surge into your mind.

Your resistance is like a cliffside. His effort is a wave, lapping at the rocks, seeking erosion. It’ll come. It never hasn’t.

You stay there in the cracks between the rocks, not pushing against him as much as shielding yourself from him. He leans an inch further from his chair and inclines his head. Your mouth falls open, breath caught on the sharp edge of his next intrusion. He eases forward but you only hold stronger. An impasse is reached — immovable object and unstoppable force.

Tom’s mouth curves at the corners, patient, persistent and proud. The chase is half of it. Your capability is the other.

“How did you discover your gift?" he asks.

“Don't distract me," you answer, and the softness tells him it’s an exertion for you to speak through this.

Tom nods, though distraction suddenly seems a tempting venture. If he pushes otherwise it will be painful.

For a while he just searches — between the old moss atop the cliff, the space where water strikes and memories propagate in verdant clusters, little runnels in the stone to keep little thoughts. He can see the outlines of those moments you’d described to him on your walk, but nothing deeper, nothing untouched. The abacus on either side of a Portuguese church but no hint of the nave or the apse. The flat horizon of Myvatn lake but none of the pseudocraters.

And still the walls stand, and the wave trickles through the runnels only to feed the moss.

You’re good. He wants to break you. He wants to be gentle. He wants to know if there is a way to do both.

Yes, he thinks there is.

Tom inches his chair closer. There’s perhaps an arm's length between your knees and his, and your expression flickers as you glance at the way it shrinks. A forearm, now. A ruler. Nothing at all, if you look long enough, think about how easy it would be for the space to vanish altogether. And he is thinking about it.

Your eyes dart back to his and he glides through the first crevice of your confusion he can find. A second’s glimpse is all he gets — words on an image of the skin unclad at his wrists, like words on the storefronts of Piccadilly Circus, they spell his name. There’s the cadence of a question. He resists the urge to sink back in his seat in honest pride; that the first thought he’s carved out of you is of his hands and sudden curiosity.

Perfectly innocuous, he rolls his sleeves to his elbows. There’s a quick twitch at your mouth.

“Do you know,” he says, searching again, “there’s something in particular I want to find.”

You indulge him carefully. You must anticipate a trick. “What’s that?”

“The moment you first missed me.”

It is a hard thing to be reminded of a moment and not draw it immediately to the surface. He can see on your face that you have to push the misbehaved thing down with force. But that’s only evidence that it exists, that it’s true, and he must see it like it’s his own.

Is your missing him not his, in some way? Is his missing you not yours?

“I wonder if you missed me over quill and parchment,” he says, “in old libraries, at a café in Paris… Did you remember me by certain colours? By times of day? Or was it —”

There.

It’s the Athenaeum of Madrid, under the ceiling of the assembly hall. You’re craning your neck to admire the art, and you’re thinking how much he would have liked a place like that.

And then he’s back in the frilly hotel, and your face is in something like a gasp. You’ve swallowed it down, batted him away, but he can see it even from the outside; the curiosity is still there despite. The question unposed but sitting neatly on your tongue ready to be asked.

Tom smiles. “I didn’t know you went to Spain.”

“Well, I thought I might leave something for you to learn instead of be told.”

“Ah, so you let me in?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Will you?”

You glance involuntarily at the gap between you. Has it shrunk again? He can note the details of the face he’s missed without trying.

“Will you let me in?” he murmurs.

“I don’t think they teach this method of distraction at school,” you say softly, and now the words have been put in the air.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He shifts his chair ever closer. His eyes go to your lips. And he does mean to look away but your mouth quirks the slightest degree upward and he stays there a moment because he was expecting something else.

“Didn’t I tell you I’ve been courted before?”

“Plenty,” he recounts.

You lean in. Your knees brush his. You incline your head so your eyes find the path of his, the smile on your face finally full. It’s an error of time that he doesn’t expect it because it must not be an error on his part. “Then you should know to make a greater effort.”

You hold a hand to his cheek, watching the motion as your warm fingers trail from jaw to white collar. And then you pull back; a breeze in the place you sat when you get up.

“That’s enough for today, don’t you think?”

He recovers quickly, but there’s a lingering heat at his jaw and a curiosity he was faulted to have planted himself — he’s suffering the barest satiation for the million more questions he has. But you missed him, and you invited him here, and you wanted to see him in your mind, so he must wonder if you meant to plant some curiosity too.

“And tomorrow?” he finally asks.

There’s rummaging in one of the cupboards, the twist of cap from its tube, and the quick rush of the faucet before your face peers out from the bathroom’s thick archway, still with that smile.

You flick the light on and brush your teeth like he isn’t there. For whatever reason it’s the most disarming thing you may have ever done, and it reminds him that he had considered you torturous like it was something incidental, which means he’d begun the night with only one equation still able to stump him, and ended it with two.

He could sooner solve alchemy (the entire subject) than this.

“I’ll be out,” you say when you’re done, “but you’re welcome to join me.”

“And what might I be joining you in?”

“Tourism.”

“Tourism?” He inches out of his chair, rolling his sleeves back down.

You lean against the bathroom archway and the candlelight makes a sculpture of you. Your silhouette is a blaze tenderly burning the dark.

“It only feels right after years of doing it in other places, don’t you think? Every street I discover something I didn’t notice before.”

Tom looks at the toothbrush fitted in your hand like an unlit cigarette and imagines putting it back like he’d stomp one out, kissing you and tasting apple and cinnamon and mint stuck on the corner of your pretty mouth.

“Well? Is it below you?”

“Yes. What time?”

“Eleven,” you say, and your breath hitches beautifully at your bare collar when he glides into the archway beside you. “Is that all right?”

He brushes the dab of toothpaste away from your lip. “It’s perfect.”

Your eyes flit down his face, and now it’s him smiling.

He places a kiss on the back of your hand, looking up at you through dark lashes and a smirk as he mutters your name, a soft remembrance, a rekindled wanting. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Tom.”

The noise outside his flat that night is trivial. He has not for a long time sat awake at night watching the sky instead of the shapes on his ceiling. He has not for a long time thought of you with the tranquil knowledge that he will see you again.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle fluff #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle oneshot #tom riddle fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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desognthinking · 9 months ago

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WIP... Wednesday

Tagged by @willowedhepatica (thanks!) I'm so sorry that this comes so late 😭 life got in the way. Not sure who i can tag who has things in the works they can share, but please Please know if anyone has any snippets or sneak peaks I would love to see them and yell about them with you pleaseee

Not strictly a WIP but here’s just under 3.5k of an oldish experimental AU inspired by this post :’) in this one they’re… *checks notes*, ah, hmm. Chimerical tomb guardians carved from stone.

-----

It’s a wickedly stormy day when a procession scores up the hill through beating rain and blowing dust, but there’s no time to waste. The wedding will not wait, and on its occasion, as a symbol of the new ties between the families of the bride and the groom, there is a terrible, beautiful new guardian grotesque to be received by the Silva tombhouse from the Salviuses.

It is surely mounted on the property sometime during the silver-black onslaught of sky upon earth, but Beatrice cannot clearly see it through the rain and the maze of trees that still separates the Silvas from their neighbors. The families on this hill are not quite rich enough to expand at the pace of the wealthiest among them, who slice and raze to add to their already broad campuses of tombs. Instead, in this part of town, modest, often unmatching clusters dwell amongst the wildflowers and long-lived trees sprayed across the land.

Beatrice likes the nature. Her perch is kept cool by the damp and dewy mornings, birdsong flickering from above and around. In the filtered haze of heat and light there is some measure of peace too – here, there is less to fight over, and fewer lines of tension between the families. Hidden by farther slopes, there are fewer threats from beyond. And, overshadowed by the lower circuit of large gated tombhouses, there are far milder spoils for aspiring robbers.

It’s from one of these large inner-city tombhouses that the new stone protector is said to arrive. The Salviuses have money spilling out their hands and down their wrists. It’s said, it’s said, it’s said – it’s whispered in the wind that carries the falling leaves from vine to vane, so easy for Beatrice to stretch up and put an ear to. The pollen clouds dispersed over grass in shapes spelling disruption and newcomer. It’s gossiped over pages in the library, first with smug nods and just you wait and see, dear, we’re never wrong from the grandfathers and grandmothers as Beatrice pores through the volumes in the upper shelves, precious books pressed so high and so far back that they’re backed into both wall and ceiling.

Then, inevitably, it carries through the air in the giggles and hushed gasps of the living members of this family, hands curling over yarn and needle as the youngest children breathlessly run and hide behind the walls and in the shadowy pockets of the tombhouse. The Great-great-great Grandmother who had been the first to break the news is mollified by the confirmation, and generously refuses to gloat.

A Silva girl is marrying a Salvius boy, and the Salviuses are pledging a guardian – the spirits know they have too many anyway, but still, a Salvius guardian – to this hill.

“You’ve got to go over and see what’s going on,” Beatrice is instructed one morning, in no uncertain terms. They’re going over integration by partial fractions on the little platform at the back that looks down over the mills: her, Great-Grandfather, and Lilith, who’s slunk over yet again from the Villaumbrosias’ for some ‘peace and quiet’, and also because Beatrice’s family likes her for some mysterious reason. They pretend it’s because they need the extra pair – or, well, pairs, in Lilith’s case – of eyes. The massive, foreboding, Villaumbrosia affair the next hill over already boasts so many fearsome hands on deck, and they only have one Beatrice.

Great-grandfather is gentle and teasing about it; Beatrice (and Lilith, although she will never admit it) is his favorite captive audience.

Of course, it’s easy to treat her as one of their own on mornings like this — quiet summer days when she’s stripped of silica and scale, descended from her weatherworn perch. Devoid of the coarse matter of rock and metal twisted into hungry, flame-spitting fangs, and instead merely a soft-spoken spirit in a youthful skin. When the great grandfathers and mothers and their grandfathers and grandmothers look at her and see dark, almost-human eyes and loosely-bound hair in a bun above her shoulders.

And when Beatrice walks Lilith out and across the rocky way that leads home, it’s easy for them to wave the two of them off. After all, Lilith is just a young woman with black waves she tucks carefully behind her ears and a handsome, slanting jaw that could almost pass as being real; as being pressed and molded with muscle and mandible and a fragile, mycelial network of vasculature and nerves. Not another delicate illusion that would slip and shatter at the first sign of danger, revealing in a flash the grotesque ugliness within.

There hasn’t been an attack in a while. When there hasn’t been an attack in a while Beatrice thinks the family tends to forget where exactly they hold court.

(Here, cradled close enough within these hills to walk back to where home once was. Children’s handprints on the threshold, coal scribbles on the floor. Walls still perfused with the fragrance and vapor of hot homemade stew.)

This is a graveyard. This is a necropolis, a city of the dead. It slithers amongst the roots of the living but does not make a home of it. In its palm lies the fragile in-between, the sickly sweet intersection where the living and the after-dead mingle like the meeting of two clouds. Within its grounds the family is wont to forget the ruthlessness that’s sometimes needed to keep it in balance.

Once they depart, Beatrice and Lilith’s guises fall away. Invisible to a still-beating heart, two terrible chimeras gouge skid-marks through the dirt to get to the Villaumbrosia citadel before its guests arrive at ten-thirty. Miraculously, only twice during the entire trip does Lilith half-heartedly threaten to snap Beatrice’s tail off.

They make it there just in time. Beatrice watches as Lilith sweeps her way up the manicured moss columns and melds, in a quick thrash, with the magnificent dark-gray creature of stone that lunges out from the south turret. Frozen like this: mouth curled in a snarl and sharp wings flung out – in mockery, in bombast, in warning; Lilith at her most vindictive and most frightening, the elaborate Villaumbrosia insignia branded hot and painful down her side.

Beatrice knows it hurts, of course. Perhaps less so like this but certainly in the flesh, where it is always red and raw like the day it was carved down Lilith’s ribs in the workshop. Preserved unchanging in the meat as it is preserved forever in the rock. Lilith winces, when she thinks the others aren’t looking, but Beatrice knows. Camila might say something – probably does say something, but Beatrice doesn’t. She understands too well, and after all, what can they do?

After all, this is their work. This is life: whatever is asked of them. For Lilith today, it is to be a showpiece for guests at a bloated, overwrought tea ceremony. Broadly, it is watchman, and protector, and advocate. And at times like these, when there is a stir in the tangled ecosystem of bloodlines and their guardian-creatures, Beatrice is called upon to be an ambassador.

So, the day after the storm, Beatrice leaves her perch to seek out the Silvas. She glides down from the still-slippery stone, and lands softly on the wet earth, scale meeting fur meeting soil and humid air.

In her hands – her metaphorical hands – she clasps fistfuls of string that stretch, infinitely thin, to every corner of her tombhouse. She flexes each one and puts it between her teeth as she steps over the threshold and into the trees, testing their elasticity and tensile strength. If there is to be a twang, however minute, she must feel it. There is only one of her at home.

As she approaches the Silva tombhouse the air around her shifts and seems to solidify into a medium both probing and warning. Beatrice stills, allowing the woods to see her and course through her calmness. They know her, of course, and she waits for them to pass on the message to the newest guardian, still incredibly sensitive to the prickle of unfamiliar movement and sound.

Presently, physically, the world exhales.

Beatrice cautiously continues forward, until the treeline peels away to reveal the Silva tombhouse.

Tombhouse, as it goes, is a misnomer – a tombhouse is a complex rather than a single shell. It is no single cell for a coffin, but a collection of connected mausoleums and courtyards and passageways and corners and gates, lifted high and tunneled low. And as befitting a clan of esteemed craftsmen, the Silva tombhouse is a harmonious set spiraling outwards in organic whorls. Its walls are scraped clean and brushed beige, curled and leafed and folded in at the edges. Delicate and pretty in its strength in a way Beatrice’s own plain, stoic little set of residences could never be.

At the top of the central mausoleum, bounded by a parapet, rests a flat platform. On that ledge sits the new grotesque.

Ink-black stone peeks curiously down at Beatrice.

Immediately it is clear that she is like nothing Beatrice has ever seen before. Yes, as is tradition she is joined and jawed together piecemeal from various symbolic beasts, but this composition and style is unique.

She’s simultaneously entirely unlike both the typical statues produced by-the-dozen in the workshops, and the specially commissioned sculptures like Beatrice herself. This guardian is a patchwork of shapes and textures Beatrice has only ever seen in the watercolor sketches of her tombhouse’s own library as belonging to exotic creatures from faraway places. Still other elements escape her recognition and description, and everything meshes deftly at smooth, near-invisible seams.

Perhaps this isn’t surprising in a Salvius guardian – Jillian’s own commission too, it’s rumored. No less should be expected from someone the alchemists and scientists alike shy away from. Jillian Salvius considers herself a traveler, and a collector, and a dabbler, and Beatrice hears that the spokes of her gates are gnarled and carved in strange patterns from foreign lands.

The guardian shifts and cocks her head curiously, and Beatrice pulls herself together sharply.

“Hi,” the creature says. “You must be the neighbor from the east.”

Beatrice snaps back into polite, exceedingly proper posture. She nods, dipping forward in a movement resembling a bow. It makes the high-perched creature giggle, gauzy like air.

“Good morning,” she replies. “My name is Beatrice, and you’re right. How did you know?”

The guardian doesn’t answer. She separates from her stone in a miasma of color, swoops down noisily, and lands, a little clumsily, on a lower ledge. “Two heads, huh?” she says, thoughtfully. “Kinda perfect for the scholars.”

It’s not said judgmentally; more so with a further curious slant of her head, observational and light. Beatrice feels strange and semisolid all over.

She doesn’t correct the new guardian; tell her that no, she hadn’t actually been crafted or blessed for this bloodline, only gifted to them just one generation ago. And gifted rather carelessly, at that; an obligatory token presented upon the death of the benefactor’s tutor.

Before that her two heads were designed not as a tribute to wisdom or a paean to collaboration, but in order to stare proudly over an excessive estate, stretching out in opposite directions over land too vast for merely one head to behold. An arrogant symbol of not just physical, but political reach. She was a status symbol for powerful people – two-faced might be a better descriptor.

Beatrice has always considered this with some bitterness, but today, she oddly feels no urge to self-flagellate. She feels, suspiciously, nothing at all; a fuzzy blank.

Instead, in response to the guardian, Beatrice blinks. Both of her heads do. They crane and incline together, like long-necked birds bending to convene. She feels sharp ears on each one twitch and flutter.

The creature laughs again. She descends further to the porch, then approaches Beatrice slowly. “I’m Ava,” she introduces herself, finally. Shyly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Ava,” Beatrice repeats, careful and hushed. She parses it over and traces it as though threading a needle – how the strange, simple symmetry of the word, the hypnotic up-down-up of A-V-A, doesn't begin to encompass the entity approaching her. On cue, Ava does a funny, shuddery motion that cascades down her whole form.

Beatrice, leaning her heads over old tomes like water jugs tipped over a parched tongue, dreams of fantastical things, from places that often sound even more surreal. And yet before her now stands the most peculiar thing alive yet, that defies everything she’s known and seen.

Yes, clearer now before her eyes, Ava is a patchwork of impossible parts.

Up close Beatrice can see she’s also a riverbed of illusory things. Small divots seem to scoop themselves out, sink deep, and then ripple back up into the surface of her body. Bubbling, and collapsing, and reforming, like springs of molten mother-of-pearl. Each little cavity shimmers like roughened gemstones: a gasping, dark blue, like well water under the sun; or a moody green like the light-starved undershade in a storm; or a thawing amber that Beatrice cannot even describe except that it looks like the smell of hot bread with a sweet cream core, tempting and steaming.

“Beatrice,” Ava echoes, her eyes gleaming and dark. They bubble expressively and endlessly deep. Gazing at Beatrice, straight, still and pondering. Searching.

Silence stretches until it doesn’t.

Something snaps – a bird on a twig above – and Ava shakes herself awake. “Where’s my manners!” she exclaims suddenly. “Come on,” she swishes around gamely. Beatrice, bewildered, sneezes.

She’s learning quickly that when Ava laughs, the dense tassel-like feathers on the back rise in delighted reflex and splay apart.

The two of them slip between trees into a little glade, buoyed by her relentless charm and a thrumming current of something else, in the undertow.

Once upon a time, this was a courtyard, although now that the Silva tombhouse has unfurled in the opposite direction it’s been allowed to tastefully overgrow into its former self, mossy and scruffy. Old pieces of wall and pillars still cordon off one side; Beatrice resists the temptation to bound about and explore, and instead parks herself primly at a corner, not fidgeting.

Ava has no such compunctions. She wriggles herself into a comfortable position on a large boulder. Her weapon of a tail dangles down and bats at the ground idly, uprooting chunks of grass.

“How are you finding it here?” Beatrice asks, trying very hard to be normal.

“Honestly? I don’t know yet,” Ava grins, “and you’re the first one of us I’ve met here.”

She pauses, cocks her head to one side so strikingly. The gesture almost looks human. “You know, my new folks think very highly of you,” She looks appraisingly over Beatrice with an indecipherable expression.

Beatrice feels quite hot. “Mine are curious about you.”

There is a shift in the air as Ava straightens abruptly. Her tail stills. “What will you tell them?”

Beatrice bites her tongues, undecided. She’d meant to think of it later, to phrase and rephrase and turn the words over and over in her mouth on the way back to get them right. It takes a while, usually, to distill her thoughts precisely into words that balance both insinuation and tone, and half the time it ends up all too stilted and formal anyway. How people seem to be able to do that, off the cuff – it’s confusing. Far easier, Beatrice thinks, to sit quietly beside and let such people do the talking.

Especially now that this seems, somehow, to be important to Ava. And especially now that she finds she doesn’t quite have any of the words.

If Beatrice had hands she would wring them. She thinks, distantly, of what someone else wiser than her might say. “They’ll agree with me that you’re certainly unique,” she starts, and it’s like Shannon’s talking through her, stately and gentle. Bold, like Mary.

She adds, in an abrupt impulse that’s, alarmingly, all Beatrice, “I do think you’ll fit in well here.”

“Oh,” Ava seems surprised. Her tail, heretofore curled tightly on the boulder, relaxes and turns a loose arc in the air, hacking at the grass. “Thanks,” she looks at Beatrice, and inhales sharply, although not unkindly.

Pauses. Sheepishly, she adds, “I’ve heard some people, uh, calling me devilish and other things, you see. But you know, it’s fine. Whatever.”

Beatrice grimaces involuntarily, then schools her expression back into an empathetic nod. It’s not unexpected. There’s bound to be a procession of curious gawkers and onlookers filing through to try and catch a glimpse of something hailing from the elusive Salviuses. Beartice knows the type: traditional, gossipy and busybodies.

They’ll take one look up the roof and gasp in disbelief or disgust, probably. Sneer up at the twisted, unnatural proportions, if they’re brave. Ava runs too close to the precipice of their diluted tolerance.

“The Silvas are good people. They’ll stand by you.” Beatrice isn’t sure if it helps, but it’s true. The households here are the little silver lining of this part of town, otherwise ragged and out of the way and a little discordant in its hues.

Ava exhales gently. Beatrice thinks there’s a small smile there. “I know.”

“It doesn’t make it easier.”

“Yeah. I know,” repeats Ava, her eyes shining, and it’s almost like she really does.

Beatrice understands. They did it to her, too, after all.

The people who commissioned her had made a puppet of her. They had demanded a departure from classical references and therefore affixed to her frame things like startling, swiveling joints and odd angles. Two heads, of course, among other modifications – all in an arrogant, ambitious drive to defy tradition and create a visionary symbol of fear and envy. Instead, the lay beholder glanced upon the warped anatomy and thought it blasphemy. And so, Beatrice rapidly became that to her own family too: acrid to the eyes, rotted in the soul, a disembowelment. Failure. An embarrassment.

The whispers billowed large like cotton sheets drying in the fields, caught and blown out in the wind.

It was a matter of time. Beatrice imagines the tiny family offspring being taught their true oral history in a sugary sick little chant, clapping their chubby hands cheerfully and squealing every grim word,

Then the old teacher died / and it was a great relief / The family rushed to ready / a token of public grief

Her, of course. Her, and not any of the cruder, more sedate, stone guardians that studded the estate. The small ones who, on a good day, sat patiently and circulated air and respired noisily, and who were not capable of thought or pain. The family had a lot of them lining their walls, not much more than large decorative lumps of dough programmed to trap, waylay, or bite at intruders.

Instead, they parted ways with the looming, ghastly and elaborate figure that guarded one of their main wings, and painted it as a great outpouring of sadness. Beatrice knew better.

The whole event was swift; almost planned in advance. She’d barely had time to send an urgent warning to Lilith before she was gone – a failed experiment in pomposity that took an unforeseen and regrettable turn into the profane.

In a matter of days she was transplanted from lush green gardens into dry hills bathed in reedy, half-obscured sunsets. The kind of neighborhood her old family would call avant-garde or ‘forward-thinking’, although with a scoff that betrayed what they really thought.

And at night, looking down to sleeping homes, Beatrice would hear in the nothingness the same whispers splashing down the stone like rain, all over again.

Mindlessly, now, she has the sudden urge to reach out and feel. Fluttering cells or hardened stone, it doesn’t matter. She wants to transmute a hand of tender human pulp and skin, and run fragile fingers softly over the strangest braided foldery and flattening of membrane, bumps and spindles until they catch, pierce and bleed.

And she so badly wants to tell Ava: I think you’re nightmarish and very beautiful. You would hold an army off this humble hill. like holding out a pathetic little bundle of flowers– but she doesn’t. It’s too long and too much; I’m here. is too short, and both are too naked. She’s not that kind of creature. She’s carved from solid rock and even when she sheds it it still feels like its weight chains her to the earth.

Her voices remain even and steady, somehow.

“I –This isn’t the customary welcome and introductory visit,” Beatrice confesses, in lieu of it all.

“Oh. It’s not?”

Beatrice shakes her heads. “There’ll need to be a more official one.”

The overlapping layers of spines along Ava’s limbs rise and then flatten, quickly. “So I’ll get to see you again soon?”

Feeling warm, or moist, or something like a pillar of pressurized foam, Beatrice clears her throats. “I suppose so. Yes.”

#“Ard wtf is this AU” 😭 listen. it was a strange and fun little thing/experiment to play around with #YEAH imagine a large town/small city that spills out over the hills in a labyrinthine necropolis of familial mausoleums / tomb complexes #pragmatic bulwarks of defence and important centers of social/intellectual/cultural life and death and the rich after-death #beatrice is the super serious guardian of a respectable but modest bloodline of teachers and scholars #when she's not staring moodily out into the distance she spends like all her free time in the library/underground heirloom chamber #and getting tutorials from fond but vaguely concerned ancestors #They love her unconditionally btw she’s just sometimes in her head too much to see it #the Silvas are renowned artisans! Jillian is jillian lol #If some of the words sound like they don’t exist it’s because they straight up don’t. I’ve no idea what old me was thinking.#hashtag avatrice hashtag meetcute hashtag wrarior nun hashtag mutually obsessed at first sight etc.

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melonchanverse · 10 days ago

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Hiii sweetpea! I'm sending asks! Also, I hope you're doing well. 🩷 I couldn't just pick one character, so here are a few!

Ichiro: 🧡, 🔥, 🌇 and 🐦‍🔥

Kaguya: 🧡, 🍊, 🐅 and 🍁

Beloved Nadeko: 🎃, 🐹, ✴️ and 🎇

hi!! and thank you nimo this ask was crazy 💀💀💀💀💀 i’m doing much better now!! hope you are okay too!! @einsatzzz tag you for nadeko mention

anyway LONG ASS ANSWER

if you wanna leave an ask - 🌇

🧡 (orange heart) - Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

yes, ichiro values honesty highly. he always tries to be honest, but in the mafia world, absolute honesty isn't always feasible. sometimes he unknowingly engages in dishonest practices for the greater good, but it doesn't sit well with him either. despite this, he still strives to be as sincere as possible. he wouldn't allow someone to be consistently kept in the dark.

🔥 (fire) - What drives your character in life? Is it a belief? A person? A goal? Whatever it is, what do they want from it and what are they willing to do to get it?

for ichiro, his burning ambition and drive come from a deep-seated sense of loyalty to his family. his primary goal is to ensure the well-being and safety of everyone he holds dear, especially his siblings. he’s willing to go to great lengths to protect them and safeguard their happiness, even if it means taking on seemingly impossible tasks. although loyalty to his family serves as the primary force propelling him forward, he also possesses a natural talent for leadership

🌇 (sunset) - What does it take for your character to trust someone? Do they have to prove themselves? Or does your character not trust anyone no matter what? What made them this way?

ichiro is quite a cautious person and doesn’t easily trust someone without sufficient proof. he doesn’t outright distrust everyone, but he does require time and tangible evidence before he’ll fully trust someone. this guarded nature is due to his experiences and the harsh realities of the mafia world. he’s seen deceit and betrayal, and it’s made him wary of others’ intentions. he needs to see some level of authenticity and consistency in someone’s actions before he’s willing to open up and trust them

🐦‍🔥 (phoenix) - What has your oc had to overcome to get to where they are now? Were the challenges emotional or physical? Would you say they had to go through a “rebirth”? How did they change, if at all?

ichiro's life, marked by his early immersion in the mafia, has been a series of challenges. he had to overcome emotional and physical obstacles from a young age, each one testing his resilience and character. these trials have indeed been akin to a “rebirth” for him. each hurdle has changed him, instilling a deep sense of responsibility, fortitude, and adaptability. he picked himself up bit by bit, staying strong for the ones he loves, as the mafia lifestyle demanded sacrifices and perseverance

🧡 (orange heart) - Is your oc honest? Why or why not? Are there only specific people they’re honest to?

kaguya is an interesting case when it comes to honesty. she values candor and doesn't beat around the bush, but her honesty can feel blunt and even a bit harsh at times. she tends to be brutally truthful with everyone, which often lands her in hot water. while she may hold back on certain things for nadeko's sake, she typically doesn't find the need to filter her words. so, you could say she's honest to a fault.

🍊(orange) - Is your oc more selfish or selfless? Are they willing to sacrifice themselves or their goals for others? Why are they this way?

kaguya has a unique blend of selflessness and selfishness. while she appears aloof and self-centered, she harbors a deep sense of loyalty and would sacrifice a great deal for those she cares about. for Nadeko, she is willing to put her own wants and needs aside to protect her. but her selflessness is born from a deeper motivation; she doesn't do it out of sheer altruism, but rather as a means to fulfill her own desires and needs.

🐅 (tiger) - What makes your character angry? Are they angry often? Does it take a lot to make them upset or are they quick to anger?

kaguya's temper is like a simmering volcano; it may not erupt constantly, but when it does, watch out. she’s not one to get easily angered, and she often maintains a stoic facade. however, if you cross certain boundaries or threaten what she holds dear, you'll quickly ignite her fiery wrath. it’s not so much that she's quick to anger, but more that when she does get angry, it's an intense and formidable force to reckon with.

🍁 (maple leaf) - What brings your character joy? Do they find happiness in the small things? Does it take a lot to cheer them up?

despite her exterior, kaguya does find joy in small moments. she may not display it outwardly, but the simple comfort of a quiet night, a satisfying conversation, or even a good meal can bring a subtle joy to her otherwise stoic demeanor. when it comes to being cheered up, it’s a bit more complex; she values genuine connection and understanding, and it takes something more than just a simple gesture or an empty platitude to genuinely lift her spirits.

🎃 (jack-o’-lantern) - What is your character’s greatest fear? Is it something primal like the dark or something specific like killer clowns? Did they gain this fear after a bad experience? Whatever it is, why are they scared of it?

nadeko's greatest fear is not something tangible or immediate like the dark or killer clowns, but rather a fear rooted in the depths of her soul. born and raised in a world where she is expected to uphold an image of perfection, her biggest dread is the loss of her identity. the fear that deep down, she isn't truly herself but a mere amalgamation of expectations and roles assigned to her. this fear stemmed not from a singular experience but from a lifetime of being trapped in a golden cage, constantly pressured to conform to others' definitions of who she should be.

🐹 (hamster) - How does your oc feel about animals? Have they ever had a pet? What made them feel this way towards animals?

nadeko has a soft spot for animals, particularly small and cute ones. she never had a pet growing up, her busy schedule and strict upbringing didn't allow for it. yet, she always felt a sense of comfort in the presence of animals.

✴️ (eight-pointed star) - Is there anyone your oc admires or looks up to? What qualities of this person does your oc admire? Do they want to be like this person one day?

nadeko doesn't have someone she consciously admires or strives to be like. her behavior towards her younger brother, Itsuki, can occasionally mirror the manner of their older brother, Ichiro, without her realizing it. perhaps there's a subtle influence from ichiro in how she interacts with her siblings, and it seeps into her actions without her fully recognizing its origin.

🎇 (sparkler) - If your oc had the chance to start their life over again, what would they change, if anything? How would this change them and the people around them? Would their lives be better or worse? Would they change anything in the first place?

if nadeko had the chance to start her life over again, she'd want to change the expectations and constraints that defined her existence. she'd yearn to break free from the chains of perfection and find her true self. this change would set her on a different path, creating a life free from societal norms and her own internal struggles. while it might cause pain for some, it would also bring a genuine sense of freedom and authenticity, affecting both her and those around her. the question remains, would she actually change anything in the first place?

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr oc #murakami family #murakami ichiro #shirayuri kaguya #murakami nadeko #oc ask meme #melon ask

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destinygoldenstar · 12 days ago

Text

🍀A Night With Nina🍀 - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 2 Episode 8 “Nightmare At Tipiskaw”

TRIGGER WARNING: BLOOD & GORE

Okay, this italicized part is an EDIT after the reaction. I need to put up a trigger warning for this episode as a reason why I might not show as many images as usual.

I don't think it's as bad as it could've been, otherwise I think OddNation would get demonetized. But to be on the safe side, THIS EPISODE/THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE HEMOPHOBIC.

I WILL put a TW in the tags as well so they don't see the post. But in case your account doesn't have the filter for this sort of thing, HERE'S YOUR WARNING.

Been awhile since the events of my life yaddy yada.

I don't have an intro.

Enjoy the reaction:

OH NO THE GO KARTS ARE BACK XD

Those karts are gonna be the DEATH of someone. I swear.

They almost killed a kid once.

"I'm the one who does the accounting. Remember?"

YOU?!

So that's where our taxes go...

"Because if I do it, I would be admitting that I was wrong!"

Dang. She's a brat.

But I get why. So I'm interested.

Oh the doll is recapping XD

Okay I like that. That's a good twist and shake up.

OH CHRIST

OH THAT ACTUALLY JUMPSCARED ME. OH MY GOD.

THIS DOLL'S GONNA KILL EVERYONE, I SWEAR.

"In fact, I was thinking of getting a tattoo when this is all over."

Okay, Lake, honey, I think that's going too far.

WAIT WHOA WHAT

WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THAT?!

WHAT?! THERE WAS NO BUILD UP!!

"Attention campers, an immunity totem has been hidden somewhere in the camp!"

An idol is back?

T h e i d o l s a r e b a c k . . . ?

WELL THEY DIDN'T HAVE TO KEEP IT A SECRET FROM THE AUDIENCE.

What was the point of keeping it a secret from the audience?

I WOULD'VE LOVED TO KNOW ROSA HAD AN IDOL.

I-

tumblr

I'm losing my mind already.

Just by LOOKING at an idol. I lose it.

I'm going to abstract. I have PTSD with idols now.

GET THAT IDOL OUT OF MY FACE!!!

"I found the totem minutes before the queens challenge started."

Wasn't Riya with you? Shouldn't Riya already know about this?

Considering, you know:

"You had a couple of hours to find the totem, and just minutes before the challenge started, it was finally found."

Wait what?

We didn't see who had it?

Are they keeping it a secret on who found it?

KRYSTAL SAID THAT. I REMEMBER IT.

I DISTINCTLY REMEMBER IT BECAUSE I REACTED TO THAT LINE.

Riya should already know. Right?

Unless she's secretly planning to steal it.

OH GOD THE COUNTER IS BACK.

STEAL THE IDOL FROM ROSA

NO SHE HEARD ME.

She's like "Yeah Rosa. Bold of you to trust me with that info. Not like I could think strategically, see you and Lake are threats, and steal that idol from you to dump your asses! I AM A FAMOUS AC-TOUR AND I WILL NOT BE INTIMIDATED BY POWER!"

Why did I say that with a British accent? SHE'S INDIAN. COME ON ME.

I'm sorry for the disrespect, Riya! You can slay! This is my way of saying sorry, queen!

I love Rosa and don't want anyone to slay her, but I'm also like "DO IT YOU WON'T. DO IT YOU WON'T."

"I was searching with Rosa that day, and now that Lake is in the alliance is when she decides to reveal that she found the totem?! Why didn't she tell me before?! Does she not trust me?"

EXACTLY. THEY'RE ADDRESSING THIS.

Now Riya thinks her only 'friend' is going to blindside her and backstab her and leave her behind.

MAYBE YOUR PROBLEMS WOULD BE SOLVED IF YOU STOLE THE IDOL? HMMM? JUST A SUGGESTION?

"Maybe we should have focused that afternoon on the game so we go far together."

UH, YEAH, THAT WAS ON YOU GUYS.

Are they better or worse than Reality TV's Stupidest Alliance? I can't tell. But that's up there.

DON'T BLAME TESS FOR ANYTHING. SHE CHOSE TO ACCEPT HER FATE.

BLAME ANYONE, BLAME THESE GUYS.

"Meet me at the race track in fifteen minutes."

UH, SIR. I DON'T THINK THAT'S FIFTEEN MINUTES.

"Sorry for the wait, Marcus had a little accident."

DID THE DOLL KILL HIM?!

I can believe that, actually.

"I am more than happy to invite all of you to my fun game."

OH NO IT'S SAW

"Have you already forgotten that the puppet spoke when I held it?"

"I'm pretty sure that thing is a demon that's gonna kill us."

"Best thing is to ignore all of that and enjoy this night off."

Rosa, I love you, but you have a death wish.

"Let's go to the lake to see the stars."

"Great idea, Lake!"

Ah, AH? I get the pun.

"But first, I'm going to take a shower."

Well, we know who's dead.

"How about we watch... a horror movie?"

James, you secretly enjoy this, don't you?

OH NO AND THEN HE PUTS AN ARM AROUND HIM...

AND THEN THE CREEPY MUSIC PLAYS?!

LIKE GOD, YOU CAN'T NOT TELL ME THAT MAKES THE GESTURE SINSTER!

"Maybe when we're done and you're scarred, we can go behind the bushes and MAKE LOOOOOVEEEE..."

"HASHTAG EXPLICIT AO3 FANFICTION!! FOR THE GAY SERVICE!"

James. You make me uncomftorable.

OH GOD SHE IS A DEMON. SHE HAS HIM CAPTIVE.

I don't like how he's tied up...

Okay that bitch slap got a laugh out of me. XD

Why is the popcorn already in the pan like that?

If it was left out there, I don't want to eat it.

"I'm following you."

Okay, my brain went to, "I'm following you... ON INSTAGRAM!"

And James reaction is, "Oh neat! You follow me on Instagram? Great!"

PLEASE tell me that's the joke!

"Ew. Another follower who gets my number."

Oh... close enough.

"Do you like them better than your boyfriend Aiden?"

Why do you care about that?! Hello?! ANOTHER predator?

"He's not my boyfriend..."

Oh really? So what was the kiss? What was the attitude? What's with sleeping together? THESE AREN'T FRIENDLY GESTURES MATE.

This man's a predator, I swear to god...

You know what? GET HIM SERIAL KILLER.

Man, if only Yul was still here. Then I could watch hm get killed.

That would've been an excuse to keep him, at least.

OH JESUS CHRIST. WTF?!

I DIDNT EXPECT THAT. HOLY SHIT

HE ACTUALLY DIED?!?!?

Oh shit…

IS THIS VR AGAIN?! IS THAT WHAT THIS IS?! HUH?!

That's actually creepy holy shit...

Why does that remind me of something from FNAF?

Okay, why are we watching her shower? Come on now. We know she's dead.

Yep. There we go.

Bye Allyson.

RULE NUMBER ONE OF SURVIVING A HORROR MOVIE, NEVER TAKE A SHOWER.

GOOD THING THE SERIAL KILLER WAS NICE ENOUGH TO PUT A TOWEL AROUND HER XD

THAT'S NICE OF THEM.

Why was she wearing shoes in the shower?

"That puppet..."

Okay I know he's supposed to be angry, but he said that so DEADPANNED and I cant take it seriously.

Welp, Hunter's dead.

The doll just killed him herself XD

Oh you poor, poor, stupid boy.

The best girls can take em!

OH GOD

HEEEEEERRE'S JOHNNY!!

NO RIYA!! NOT THE QUEEN!!

"Do you know how to start the car without keys?"

"Yes, and don't ask me how."

Oh geez, Rosa. How many crimes did you commit for your child?

"You're going to be screwed for what you did, bastard!"

YES. SLAY QUEEN. AVENGE YOUR QUEEN.

LET ROSA COOK.

ROSA NO DON'T STAY BEHIND. NO QUEEN! DON'T!

"I grew up in a neighborhood where seeing assholes with weapons threatening others was the daily norm."

Geez, what a backstory. BEFORE DEATH.

HOW IS ROSA SO GOOD?

NOOO ROSA!!!!

YES LAKE!!! FIGHT EM!!! SAVE YOURSELF!!!

GET OUT, QUEEN!!!

OH SHE'S GOT EM

"That's for attacking my friends!"

"Auf Wiedersehen."

Guys? Lake is AWESOME? THE HELL?

NOOOO LAKE!!! NOOOOOOO!!!!

Oh they're alive.

I mean I knew it. Still. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE WITHOUT VR?!

I'm so confused.

BRUH. SHE'S NAKED STILL.

This is kinda uncomftorable

"Ketchup?"

Okay but why play dead though? I don't get it.

"Tranquilizers?"

Oh okay.

I still don't get it.

WAIT WHAT THE HELL?! HELLO?!

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE. WHAT THE HELL?!

WHY ARE YOU BACK?! WHY'D YOU AGREE TO DO THIS?

"But the producers gave me the opportunity to get back in the game if I cooperated for a challenge."

She's back?!

WHY ARE YOU BACK?

I didn't want her back. WHY?

"I hope that from now on, we can get along."

YOU KILLED EVERYONE.

"She also has immunity for her and two people of her choosing."

What? Come on now. Are you kidding me?

"Sorry guys, but the immunities go to Ally and Hunter."

Of course. I kinda figured.

IT'S PLOT ARMOR. IT'S BLATANT PLOT ARMOR.

They didn't even win. But the game became RIGGED to keep them around.

"We will have to vote for one of the girls. There is no other option."

BULLSHIT. LAKE WAS ROBBED.

TWICE.

"Which one would you vote for?"

"Lake?"

And now they're gonna boot her.

GODDAMMIT.

"I think we'll be voting for different people at this ceremony."

WELP. So James is screwed. Bye James.

"And as if that weren't enough problems already, Karol returned who hates us!"

"I mean she KILLED us for crying out loud!"

"I was the one who accused her in front of everyone."

And yet you take this so casually that you're gone tonight as a result?

"Of course I remember, and not once have I seen her blame you for it."

I mean, she should. He outted his own plan in front of her.

"She went to me! Only to me! She called me a traitor and she wants me out of the game!"

Really? Where was that scene?

"I hope you leave soon, Aiden! You are a traitor!"

🙄

James makes Aiden's life worse. I swear.

OH GOD.

KAROL JUMPSCARE.

"Aiden, calm down. I will not vote for you, nor for James, so don't worry, okay?"

Oh? Why?

"I'm just trying to turn the page and start over."

Are you serious? I can't tell if she's honest or not.

"But my therapist says that resentment is a drag on the road to recovery."

Oh. Maybe she is serious.

"How about Lake? There are already two challenges that she was very close to winning."

And the game was RIGGED AGAINST MY QUEEN.

Doesn't matter though, cause Rosa has an idol and can play it on Lake.

"I wanted to propose that we vote together in this ceremony."

Oh god no...

Riya the traitor?

STEAL THE IDOL YOU WON'T. STEAL IT YOU WON'T.

"Hmmm, who would it be?"

And the fact that she's intrigued.

The worst part is that it's not actually a bad strategic move. James's only lifeline is Aiden, and Aiden is a damn floater who would crumble without him. And if Hunter and Allyson are gonna work with her to take out two bigger threats, then...

Shit...

"Well, if what Ally said is true, Lake could be voted out tonight. I could tell Rosa to save her with her totem, but I have to think if that's really what I want..."

Oh so this is a test for Riya.

Friends or money? Hmmm...

"If someone has an immunity totem and wants to play it, now is the time to do it."

Ooh...

COME ON. PLAY IT. PLAY IT.

PLAY THE IDOL!!!

"Well, no one, so lets read the votes."

GODDAMMIT NOOOOO

'JAMES'

I hope it's James. Honestly.

'RIYA'

Wh-who voted Riya?

GODDAMMIT AIDEN. YOU DOOMED LAKE BY DOING THAT.

'LAKE'

There it is.

'JAMES'

'LAKE'

'JAMES'

Oh? Riya didn't flip? Or is that Karol?

'LAKE'

OH GOD NO...

NOOOOOOO GODDAMMIT!!!!

WITH AN IDOL SHE HAD ACCESS TO AS WELL. THAT'S THE WORST.

GIRLIE WAS ROBBED. SHE SHOULD'VE WON THAT IMMUNITY.

"Lake... it can't be."

DON'T ACT SURPRISED. YOU THREW YOUR VOTE.

YOU COULD'VE MADE IT A TIE. JUST SAYING.

"So sad you have to go, Lake."

That sounded so fake.

"Oh no... who could've predicted this? Sooooo saaaaaaaddd... Here's my sad face of pity.😪"

That's a better Indian accent I guess. I'm not good at Indian accents, I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry, Lake. I should have used the totem to save you."

Yeah. You should've.

"Now I am free, thanks to you."

Awwwww.

"I love you, Rosa."

"Awwww, I love you too."

AWWWWWW, MOTHER DAUGHTER

Riya's like "Uh... YEAH... I love you too Lake... no I didn't betray you what are you talking about?"

That was Episode 8.

GODDAMMIT LAKE NOOOO.

Lake was robbed. I will not be convinced otherwise. That was a very unfair elimination.

Karol's back. And... nice now? Even though she killed everyone? Idk.

I don't know why she's here.

Rosa has an idol. Riya decided to be a dirty traitor.

Which I'm intrigued by.

I made a JOKE in a previous reaction. Idk which one. About Riya being the evil queen. DID I CALL IT?

We'll see. Idk yet. But that's funny if I DID call it.

I SHOULDN'T HAVE PUT THE BEST GIRLS IN THE HEADING.

Hunter and Allyson officially have plot armor. You can't convince me otherwise.

STEAL THE IDOL RIYA. YOU WON'T. DO IT YOU WON'T.

#disventure camp #total drama #reactions #reaction #disventure camp riya #disventure camp aiden #disventure camp ally #disventure camp hunter #disventure camp james #disventure camp kristal #disventure camp nina #disventure camp lake #disventure camp marcus #disventure camp rosa maria #disventure camp karol #tw blood #tw gore

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stormblessed95 · 10 months ago

Note

How to search some specific genre fics on ao3 ? Like do we put the genre on Google or should put that on ao3 and we'll get? I mean idk exactly what are the things we should use to describe or find specific genre fics on ao3, idk how it works sorry, so if you can just tell me how to search that wil be helpful..

I'm okay with doing a quick little AO3 tags lesson! I'm on mobile for now though, so that's what you are getting.

So idk if there are better ways, but I normally start with the fandom (unless you are searching more specifically off the bat, but I like browsing and seeing what catches my eye.) So for this example, let's say the MDZS fandom is what we are searching in as that's the fandom sandbox that has been the subject of my hyper fixation for a while now! So either find while already in AO3 or just type "x fandom AO3" into Google too, that would work just fine lol. Than once in the fandom tag, click "filters"

Once in filters, you'll see a bunch of options, the ones you probably want to use first for "genre" type stuff is the relationships, other tags and sort by. Those are the ones I use most anyway

Under relationships click the pairing you want to read about (if you are searching under BTS, you'd click "Jeon Jungkook/Park Jimin" if you want Jikook fics) and then you could also type in under other tags which type of story you are looking for. And then I always sort by kudos to get the highest rated fics at the top....

So let's do wangxian as my pairing....

Then I can figure out what type of vibe of story I might want.... Like if I wanted an AU, it would give suggestions as I type too....

Or a fix it....

Or time travel....

Plus the additional tags gives some of the most popular tags in the fandom we are under currently that get used.... You can check off any of those....

You can also check the other filters to narrow things down further, like if you want completed fics only. The type of relationship (m/m, m/f, f/f, etc), the rating (explicit to general), you can also check off if you want to exclude anything. So if you really don't want to read about a certain tag or relationship, exclude it and any fics with that in it won't show up in your search.

So if I just said I want a Wangxian fic that's in a modern university setting... I can put that into the filters, sort by kudos.... And it'll just give me pages of fics I can scroll through till I find a description/summary that appeals to me lol

(and in case anyone was wondering, the first two fics are hilarious and adorable and I plan to read ride a socialist now lol)

If this was NOT helpful, tell me and I'll try to do better. Lmao or if you need help finding something specific let me know and I'll do my best!

Thanks for asking!

#the ao3 filter system really works so well #also sorting by things other than kudos can bring up hidden gems!#just explore the tags and good luck lol

17 notes · View notes

vylad243 · 8 months ago

Note

Honestly with the way the Goethals act in general it could be safe to say most of them go down the line of “Anyone I perceive as lower than me I treat like shit” with a few accepting members like Stolas

But speaking of Stolas, if you feel more comfortable going off of what is canon, then maybe the idea could spin off of him? We know him to be respectful and to have enough pull to get meetings with a Sin so it wouldn’t be too far off to say Ozzy asked Stolas to check out the hotel to sponsor it. Maybe during introductions he only bows to Lucifer, the Sins, and Vox and everyone is confused?

Just spitballing with the other anons idea! Whatever you go with will be amazing regardless!

Also just a small question cause I’m curious of what you have planned but how many prompts are you planning on writing/is in your Que? I have like a shit ton of prompts in my inbox and need filtering advice if you’re willing 😭

I am the goddess of fucking around and finding out

I don't mind canon or going off canon. My Alastor and Vox are very ooc after all, but I know the fandom tends to hold Helluva Boss in a higher standard. I never really liked it that much. I've watched it- but I'm Striker. Why does everything gotta be a sex thing? The two season finales were my favourite of Helluva Boss, which ironically included little to no Stolas

I could definitely see Stella and her brother treating the sinners and overlords are faith on their shoes while Stolas and Octavia hold the sins and Vox in higher regard

Ozzie would definitely be pulling the strings to get Stolas to visit the Hazbin Hotel if I go that route.

I like working off of your guy's ideas. It's very fun and helps me world build 🙏

~~~~~~

Ahahaha my ask box is also full of different prompts. I have omega-verse, the Vee's joining the battle, and injured Alastor are three I can name off the top of my head (because I'm writing them right now) but I think I have like 10 or 11 in there. One is also a beauty and the beast ay which I'm mulling over

As for how I filter them out- prompts are things I want to be able to enjoy writing. Some of my prompts have been quite large- and while I don't mind the large ones, it gives me a lot less freedom with them because I feel like I have to rewrite a whole story that was just in the my box. I never deleted any, though. I just put them in their in tag just in case I feel like writing them later- but ones I am writing right now/want to write sit in my box so I can shuffle through them. It keeps it organized

I haven't encountered any rude people yet- so I haven't had to reject anyone for demanding things from me (which like I'm always ready for a debate on the internet, I find them funny) and with how nice everyone is, I usually feel bad for denying them. It's way I take so long to deny people. I want to make sure this is actually something I don't plan on writing in the near future

My way to filter out prompts is

- I need creative freedom to write so I don't feel miserable writing. This is one of the main ones. My brain is very hectic and I find myself tapping out if I can't bring my own ideas to the table. It's also why none of my works are exactly like the prompts im given

- I have enough context to write a fic on it

- I would actually enjoy writing it

- it's a world/au I'm aware of or contributed to. Nothing is worse than being handed a fully built universe and being asked to write for it with little to no explanation on how the universe works

- the people are nice to me.

- I know I make a few jokes here and there, but I like to keep in mind that I'm making free work for people. I'm not being paid to do this, and people aren't paying me to write out the prompts. I love writing fanfiction and it's a great hobby, but if you're genuinely just not interested in doing something- you don't have too. Writing it meant to be fun and inspiration is a fickle thing. You don't want to push it too hard or it's going to shove back. I've learnt that the hard way

- bonus way to do it- sometimes people leave comments, and I find them funny, and I get creative with them. I censored a whole chapter of month in rut because someone told me to let the characters swear. I'm also a very petty person

This is just personal, but I keep my prompts 1k-3.5k words just so it's decently sized, but not overly large

Hope this helps!

#hazbin hotel #anonymous #vox hazbin hotel #a month in rut #ars goetia #helluva boss

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ultraviolet-ink · 9 months ago

Note

What do you think about asoryuu?

Oh boy, this one's going to be a bit loaded, so here's a bit of a preemptive apology for a ramble/word vomit/rant on my end. Suffice to say ASRY is a NoTP for me. When I was first getting into DGS all the way back in 2019/20, I was a bit ambivalent towards the ship. I had only watched a playthrough of the first game, and I had the feeling that Kazuma was going to come back, but the ship didn't really scream to me at that point, and it kind of befuddled me to see how it was so popular (and a bit of a tangent, I think people only really ship the 1-1 dynamic, but that's a convo for another day). If you even look at the header of my blog, it is no secret that I ship Ryuususa, and it is my OTP. When I had watched the fifth case on the playthrough, I was sold on that ship, and the last moments really sealed the deal for me-- there's something really compelling about the goodbye scene between Susato and Ryuunosuke at the docks, and the localization legitimately made me cry (happy tears of course!) Being a little naive, I started to post about it and I got... a LOT of harassment calling me a lot of names/accusing me of being okay with a lot of really horrible things (intrusive thoughts WHOOOOOOP). The harassment was so bad that I only recently opened up to my therapist about what had happened, and I was pulling away from servers/people I thought I was friends with/wouldn't treat me horribly. I found a lot of solace with people who were also violently harassed pre-localization (shout out to the Baroryuu community, you all were really kind to me, and I am proud to also be a Baroryuu lover <3), when I say it was drama filled pre localization, I mean it. I can even point out when my harassment started to March of 2021 when someone on twitter said not to read my dgs fics since I was a proshipper (I hadn't even called myself that at this point, and honestly I don't really use that title [idk how else to describe it lol], but I do follow that philosophy and call myself anti-harassment), and since I hadn't had a twt at that time, they linked to my ao3, and since I put my tumblr on my fics, I got a LOT of disturbing anons. Even when I made my server, I used to have a link that anyone could click on (word of the day is naive lmaooo), and I got a lot of creeps coming in trying to surveil the server and make sure their friends weren't in it (one person was even trying to get access to the nsfw section which was FUN). After reading this, you're probably thinking "what does this have to do with ASRY?". A lot of the major bullies in fandom HEAVILY shipped ASRY, and would harass people who shipped other ships (Baroryuu and Asobaro shippers were racist, Homuryuu shippers were okay with incest because of that stupid "greatest family in the world" line, etc.). All in all, it came with a lot of entitlement and anger that other peopled DARED not to ship that ship. Those sorts of people really tainted the ship for me. As for the ship itself, I can definitely see why people love it a lot (especially 1-1), but I really didn't like Kazuma in 2-4/5. I found him to be really particularly awful and obtuse (which, makes perfect sense in the story! Who wouldn't be in his position?). I was also mad that he only said ONE (1!!!) thing to Susato when he got his memories back (despite HER recognizing him and getting the ball rolling), and it was basically "Thanks for helping out my friend, bye!" (#justiceforsusato lol). Even at the end of the game, I still was mad at Kazuma and didn't really like him. It's only due to my friends (namely @leafyemeralds and her VERY GOOD TAKES in our convos) that I eventually started to warm up to him. Now he's my personal punching bag to Atone(tm) XD I suppose TL;DR I'm not a big Kazuma fan, harassment made me really dislike the ship, so I don't ship it (also, can ASRY shippers tag their stuff? this is more of a problem on twitter, but it happens on tumblr. Filters can only work if they're there =3=)

#ask #discourse #fandom problems

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spooky-momth · 21 days ago

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I'm probably gonna be a bit of a hypocrite for saying this and I never want to rain on anyone's parade but I think. For me, it's less the shipping focus but more so the fact that friendships never get any focus, or like the non-romantic parts of a relationship

Like I'm a big Polyhatz and Fireskulls fan but first and foremost I love their dynamics with each other, how they bounce off each other and the care they clearly have for each other as friends -- that's what makes the ships so good!! They have that bond before and then when the actual crushes and romantic affection happen it feels so natural

I'm a sucker for slow burn. I want to see the steps between the first meeting and the first kiss, dammit, don't just show me the romance!!!

Also just- this is kinda related but in a different way. I will never forgive SM AO3 for putting both Kevin/Streber and fucking Bob x Reader above Skid & Pump in fic count. I swear like half of the SM AO3 tag is smut fics and it is SO frustrating that this world and it's characters are so cool and interesting to explore yet all anyone wants to write about is the same few characters boning. I've grown numb to it at this point but it's also why I rave so highly about fics like Roy Against Society or Not So Bad After All, because they're actual character and in RAS' case, plot focused fics!!

(disclaimer: I am not dissing Candybats or the Bob selfshippers. I find Kevin/Streber to be a fun ship under the right circumstances and people wanted to smooch the cannibal so bad they made a full-ass game for it, I am in no place to diss them)

I just. Idk. Does this make any sense?? I'm tired as hell I don't know if what I'm saying makes any sense but I'm going to drop it in your inbox Anyway because I have Thoughts about this. Maybe I'll send another ask when I'm not so tired, idk

HI sorry this has just been sitting in my inbox for DAYS hgshfgj. you know how it is with college, and then The Other Horrors, Also.

disclaimer for anyone else: sometimes we just wanna complain about things. this isn't an indictment of your fandom experience, go have fun and live your life, we're not your moms, etc etc.

all of that out of the way- YEAH. true. (my reply also gets long, so to spare your dash I put a cut here.)

I don't think it's 'hypocritical' to have a nuanced take on something, really. You can like things in multiple ways and it's no betrayal of yourself to be like that!

I've always been fascinated with romance as a concept (especially as an aromantic; it always seemed like some kind of fantasy thing, like magic, to me.) but as time's gone on I've found myself more interested in what a romance can bring to the table than the romance itself.

Like, for example- Part of the reason I've been putting off Candlelight for so long is that I… still need to figure out the finer details on WHY Carmen and Lila actually get together, despite that being the "central premise" of the AU. Whoops!

I've got a lot of stuff planned out for how Roy & Skid adapt to it, what their feelings are about their new moms, about each other- But the leading romance has NOTHING LMAO.

and… fair. I get it as someone who's been on both sides of that battle in the Deltarune fandom. I was both the rabid reader looking for x Readers and the exhausted reader filtering everything that wasn't a Gen fic out so I could find something I actually wanted to see.

It can be frustrating to find so many threads that canon leaves for you to pull on, but look around and have it feel like no one else is interested in it.

(Also, I need to check both those fics out soon, thanks for reminding me, hehe.)

Romance is an interesting lens to view the show from, yes, but it's also not the ONLY lens and it can be tiring when that seems to be the majority of what people write.

#long post #crossover-enthusiast #asks

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fragments-of-despair · 1 year ago

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So thanks to justonegamr uploading a really good let's play, I got to watch the entire first chapter/prologue of Master Detective Archives: Rain Code. And I have some....thoughts. Nothing bad, really, just....some concerns.

I'll keep any spoilers under the cut and will tag this as "Master Detective Archives Spoilers", "Rain Code Spoilers" and "MDA:RC Spoilers", in case anyone wants to filter out tags.

With that one last warning, onto my thoughts.

To start: Positives!

Music: Once again, Masafumi Takeda is a Master Composer, and the soundtrack is one of the strongest he's put out so far. I enjoyed listening to the music and felt it did great at establishing the tone and I feel like it'll be the most memorable part of the game for many.

Art and Character Design: As with the music, the character designs by Rui Komatsuzaki is spot on as always and every single character looks fantastic. And the designs translated pretty well into 3D. For anyone who had worries given how UDG's models look in 3D, rest assured, everyone looks great in the Unreal Engine. On top of that, the setting is very vibrant and interesting, despite it all being mostly in one location for a good amount of the opening chapter. The Mystery Labyrinth is very colorful and creative and it was fun seeing Yuma explore. Shimadoriru did excellent work and I'm excited to see more of his art in the setting of Kanai Ward.

Player Character/Protagonist: I WOULD DIE FOR YUMA KOKOHEAD. I adore this little guy and I find him to be quite entertaining. If Wato Hojo from Process of Elimination is what would happen if you fused Hajime and Shuichi, then Yuma Kokohead is what you'd get if you mixed Makoto and Shuichi (or if you want to imagine a Naegiri child, that is also an apt description of Yuma so far). He seems to have an ability to let him feel when someone is using their Forensic Forte, almost like some kind of magical physical empathy.

I want nothing but good things for him. Protect Yuma Kokohead.

The First Mystery: Without going into too much detail, the way the culprit of this first case managed to pull off the murders was rather clever. I have family that has been working railways for decades now, and we've been train fanatics for years, so the car switch trick was definitely clever. Not the first time this trick has been used in mysteries. In fact, I'd say it's a classic in train-centric murder mysteries. But Rain Code's example was really good in that not only was it clever for the murderer, but also was good to help establish more about our big bad and give hints to the difficulty of the enemies to follow. Overall, a solid mystery.

Now for the negatives. Or rather......concerns......Okay, a mix of both really.

Last chance to turn away before MAJOR SPOILERS. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Gameplay and User Interface: From what I've seen this game is not going to be friendly for those who have vision issues. There were points where I was finding it difficult to read and that affected my ability to enjoy the investigative portions. And I'm watching on a small flatscreen TV I use as a computer monitor. Playing this on small screens is going to be hard for some, which I don't think was really taken into account during development. Aesthetically it looks fantastic, but unless you got really good vision or some super strong glasses, you'll probably have as hard a time as I did. (this will be especially hard in the Pirate Pop Up minigame that seems to be replacing Hangman's Gambit. We truly cannot avoid that game being hell, can we?).

Also, there were parts where, as I was watching, it looked like there might be issues regarding whether or not the controls will read properly. It looked like justonegamr should have managed to dodge some things but in the end, the game read that they didn't. I imagine a lot of it has to do with the font and the size of the hit box. Just know that if this was an issue for you in UDG, it might be a minor problem in Rain Code as well.

Also, there were points during the game that I thought that the concept of the Mystery Labyrinth was....for lack of better words, it felt very gratuitous at points. I think the story is trying to set up something with them, so I'll hold my full thoughts off until then, but with what we're presented with so far, it's pretty much coming off as "What if we took the trials of Danganronpa and made it a Persona 5 dungeon", and it isn't really working for me.

Oh yeah, Climax Reasoning is back. Forgot to mention that. It's....fine? I guess? I think it leans too far in the aesthetics and had trouble reading most of the questions and hints personally. It's kind of hard to top the Climax Reasoning from Goodbye Despair and V3......

The Rest of the Cast and Overall Story: Oh boy. This one is going to be a doozy.

I just want to say, before we go on, that what I am about to say is my personal thoughts and if you do not agree, no hard feelings. It's just my own personal silly little opinion and you're free to disregard it.

With that being said, I am severely disappointed in how Five of the Master Detectives that were advertised were treated.

I hope no one here were fans of Pucci, Zange, Melami, Zilch, or Aphex based on their designs, Character Profiles, and Forensic Fortes. Because they're all dead.

That's right. FIVE of our detectives are dead right now. What had happened was, Amataratsu Corp. hired a hitman to kill the detectives. And that hitman was Zilch. Or rather, someone disguised as Zilch. Or maybe it was Zilch. See, the explanation we're given is that there was a Master Detective named Zilch, but that he was killed before the others and his identity was stolen, while his body is stored on the train somewhere. The Imposter Zilch then drugged everyone, killed Pucci, Melami, Zenge, and Aphex by burning them to death, and then used Aphex's body to help fake his own death, before hiding in the control room in a blind spot and framing Yuma for the crime. The train car swap was done using a split track and a tunnel as well as leaving a car behind at one station (it was supposed to be five cars long but was four for the trip to pull off the trick), and having another prepared at the end point. The real Zilch is supposed to be on the car that was left behind on at the station.

But according to Shinigami, completing the Mystery Labyrinth and letting her reap the culprit's soul there kills the culprit. And the culprit looked like too much Zilch to make me believe it wasn't. Shouldn't it have looked more like the actual character? Or perhaps be similar to the Grey Man we see in the Climax Reasoning if they wanted to keep it more vague?

Also, throughout the prologue up until their deaths, it really felt like they were building up these detectives to be interesting acquaintances to Yuma, and I was looking forward to seeing how they'd all work together and grow. Aphex actually ended up being my favorite of the five because what little interactions we got were that impactful to me. So you can imagine my surprise to find all these detectives not only dead, but that Zilch (my second favorite) wasn't even the real Zilch. I wasn't shocked like I was when playing Danganronpa or going through Process of Elimination and finding these characters dead. I was left feeling hollow, frustrated, but mostly, I was disappointed. The hype around these characters and their talents was enough to get me hooked, and what little we got made me want more. But now we're not going to get anything. It's like being given a taste sample at Cold Stone only to be told that the ice cream you were offered was just taken off the menu by corporate and they're not allowed to serve it to you anymore. This is going to make a lot of people put down the game I think if they were hoping to investigate with any of those five and experience their Fortes in more interesting and dynamic cases, and I wouldn't blame them. If they bring them back somehow, it'll have to be pretty damn convincing because as things are now, they can't without making it feel like an asspull.

And as for Shinigami.......

I'm so sorry everyone, but I just cannot get behind her right now. She's a lot like if you fused Junko, Genocide Jack, and Ibuki in terms of personality, for lack of better ways to describe her. It was those three I was thinking of whenever she spoke or was on screen. But there's a reason characters like Ibuki, Jack, and Junko work, and a lot of that is moderation and balance. They're used moderately, balanced with the rest of the cast or with the character they're primarily spending time with. But since for most of the chapter she's your primary partner, that moderation isn't there. And there were so, so, SO many times I just wanted to hit her. I'm sure she's going to have a lot of fans, and there were parts about her that I enjoyed (usually when her behavior was more toned down and when she was not using Yuma's pain as humor), I know a lot of her actions are due to the mystery of the contract she made with Yuma and that will be revealed in time, but there were times where I wanted Yuma to just tell her to stop. And her talk about death and despair...... Yeah, as a Danganronpa fan, that's setting off a LOT of alarm bells. (I honestly wouldn't be surprised if this did turn out to secretly be a Danganronpa game given how she's being written so far).

If her overall character becomes more balanced or goes through well written growth, then my opinion will probably change, but as is, she's on the bottom of my list of characters I'm enjoying from this game.

Also, Yakou Furio is..... there. So yeah.

FINAL THOUGHTS (so far):

Between the characters we lost and the ones we still have and the rules of the Mystery Labyrinth, I'm really concerned about how the overall story is going to go. The game has a lot to do to earn back my trust after what happened to the first five detectives we met, and the writing is definitely going to need to pick up in ways that'll hook on the players who might consider putting this down after Chapter 0. The UI could have been better implemented and more accessable, and the future Labyrinths will need to really do something to justify their need to be included in the narrative going forward.

But the character designs, art, music, and Yuma alone make this game worth at least watching playthroughs of. And I do want to see Yuma's continued growth with the remaining detectives.

If you're a die-hard Danganronpa fan who just wants to have every part of Danganronpa Team's works in your collection, this game is worth a place there, I think. The Soundtrack especially is worth the price of the base game imo.

But if you're debating if you'll enjoy this game overall, I'd suggest waiting a couple of weeks for a more solid consensus before investing $60-$100.

As for Kakera's thoughts? Overall, I'm not mad. Just confused and disappointed.

#mod kakera posts #master detective archives spoilers #rain code spoilers #MDA:RC Spoilers #TLDR if you don't want to read the post and be spoiled:#i'm not mad just disappointed #and I hope it gets better

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zeroducks-2 · 1 year ago

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To give a serious response to your last reblog, I think most people (maybe not the VOCAL majority) like to exclude tags they don't want to see, and then if something is tagged incorrectly you do just scroll past or stop reading the fic when something comes up. I know there are people who complain about it like it's the end of the world but yeah it is a common thing among most of my internet people to be like "aw man I didn't know [thing] was gonna be in this fic, I guess I'm gonna go read something else now" and I don't really see any problem with that. (As long as they aren't like harassing the author about it or anything obviously, which again I'm sure some people do and that's not cool)

Fair warning, this was supposed to be a quick response and it turned into a long ass ramble about purity culture and anti behavior, sorry about that. It is a long post so feel free to just skip to the TL:DR.

I agree with you, and as I mentioned I really really like the tagging system and the culture of putting content warnings and trigger warnings over content to help people avoid what they dislike and/or actively harms them. I like it in general, not just on AO3.

For what concerns AO3 I know that most people don't cause any kind of issue about it. I too had a situation where an anonymous guest commented to ask me to tag something in my fic. I hadn't thought about it because it was kind of just a vague mention but to them it seemed to be a big deal, so I apologized and added the tag (and they were really nice and polite about it anyway) and that was it. I don't mind people asking me to tag stuff. As an author I'm not omniscient and I don't have a team or even just an advisor to give a second opinion on my stuff, and tell me what I might have missed in the tags. So by all means do say it if you prefer this or that tag being added to my stories. I might have come off as someone who has issues with the tagging system and the culture around it, and I understand that it might be the case since my reblog was worded a bit harshly. I am sorry about that.

What I really was complaining about is people adopting anti or anti-ish behavior around fanfictions and fanfiction writers, acting like the fact that they come across content they dislike is the poster's fault when they're unable to curate their own online experience, and/or take responsibility as grown adults over the possibility of coming across something they dislike. At the same time holding fanfiction writers to absurd standards when it comes to laying out what their fics contain before someone engages with it, while it would be considered absurd to demand something like this from a novel, a movie, a videogame or anything non-transformative really. And not only there's the exclusion system on AO3 that helps people filter content they don't like, but also I want to highlight the fact that someone who is writing a fanfiction does not owe anyone anything in terms of tagging their stories. Tagging by itself is a form of courtesy that is not mandatory for most kind of content except the so called Archive Warnings, and even then you can avoid tagging anything by simply using "Creator chose not to use warnings" - which I'm sure you know means "this story contains potentially upsetting themes, proceed at your own risk". Most people will just politely ask to add tags, and most people will just tag their stories anyway. I very rarely ever came across a fic which was severely untagged to the point of making me wonder if the OP actually knew tags existed, and how they worked in the first place. I think it happened maybe twice and I've been reading fanfictions since AO3 didn't even exist. But there also are people who will harass the author if they didn't tag their fic "properly", and by properly it often times means that a character mentioned something the reader dislikes, or maybe a character they hate makes a very brief appearance, or there is a random OC created for a specific situation. Or anything that doesn't suit their tastes really, and that they demanded was laid out in front of them so they could avoid the gigantic effort of clicking on a story, read the first chapter and deciding by themselves if they liked it or not. These people are the ones who act like fanfiction writers and content in general should cater explicitly to them. Just check the comments of that post, you'll see an array of folks complaining that "authors do this on purpose!" and that who doesn't tag their fic properly is a terrible person.

There's this one saying that it's "so frustrating" and "really inconsiderate" on the author's part, referring to a fanfiction which has one of the characters genderswapped. Now I really, really dislike genderswap (nothing against it or against who likes it, but it really is not my cup of tea both in fics and in fanarts) and I generally stay away from it. But realistically, how long is it going to take me to realize that a fic has been written with one or more genderswapped characters? A couple of sentences? Maybe an entire paragraph? How "frustrating" is it gonna be to spend something like 3 minutes figuring that this story is not for me, and move on with my life?

It's not frustrating, and it's not inconsiderate on anyone's part. Sure I too would prefer it to be tagged, but it's a Me problem if I can't accept that I might end up seeing something I dislike on the internet, and it's not not a random fanfic author's responsibility to make sure I don't encounter something that makes me turn up my nose.

There is in general a lot of pressure on fanfic authors, in some fandoms more than others, and the whole "you have to absolutely nail the tags" conversation is another layer of said pressure. I know people that won't post longfics because they're unsure about the tags, especially of the fact that tags might change over time, and end up not posting at all. People deleting their entire fics over these kinds of demands because they can't meet them, because they don't know how their fic is going to change from here to the 15th chapter. People having to disable or moderate comments, take hiatuses, abandon fics - sure maybe the comment insinuating they were a bad person for not tagging "there's a random policeman OC in your detective AU" is not the main reason why they abandoned the fic, but it surely did not help.

This also leads to another phenomenon, which is that of over-tagging. Of people tagging rape/noncon "just to be safe", or tagging underage because "this character is 18 but there still is a big age gap", and the likes. That's not how tags work, that's actually how the tagging system gets bloated and becomes useless, because after the 4th fic which is tagged Rape and the rape doesn't happen, what often occurs is that the reader finds another fic tagged Rape and doesn't take it seriously. But in that one case the rape does happen and they get triggered, and it's an awful experience both for the reader and for the writer in case they get harassed over it (and this specific instance happened to me personally, because apparently the Rape warning on my story wasn't enough since the rape actually happened).

It's part of the reason why the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag exists and got so popular. If your story has some background/minor/past/mentioned/implied/referenced Thing happening, and you tag it as a Major Thing that happens, people who write stories which actually have Thing as a major topic don't know what to do, and end up using the Dead Dove tag which per se doesn't mean anything, it's just a way to say "MIND THE DAMN TAGS AND DON'T COME AT ME!". No one should feel forced to use the Dead Dove tag by the way. The Archive Warnings and the tagging system in general exist for a reason. If you're reading this and you've been harassed, just block the fuckers and ignore them.

So anyway, while I tend to be really irked by over-taggers especially when I'm looking for a specific kink, I don't really blame them. Purity culture kills artistic expression by making artists afraid of harassment if they post their work, among other things. I prefer an over-tagged fanfiction (or an under-tagged one) over no fanfiction at all.

TL;DR - I agree with you anon, I'm just mad at people who harass authors over tags. I don't think there's anything wrong with politely asking someone to tag their fanfiction, and if they repeatedly don't do it over major stuff that needs to be tagged, just block them and/or report them to the AO3 TOS.

#this is all purity culture's fault btw #tags have always been a courtesy and are not by any means mandatory (except Archive Warnings but even then there's the orange one)#people who cannot handle this are not able to handle fanfictions in general #I'm sorry but if you feel so upset if you find a tiny thing that you don't like in a fanfiction that is YOUR problem not the author's #you're free and capable of clicking away from that fanfiction no one is stopping you #and if you end up harassing the author instead of clicking away or politely ask to add a tag you're a fucking asshole #ramblings #my asks #fandom things #long post

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not-poignant · 2 years ago

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When it comes to your original fiction did you post them on tumbler before making them available as an e-book. I want to write original work but am scared of posting it on here or a03.

Hi anon!

I actually personally (I can't stress this enough, this is a me thing) really hate posting (and reading) fic on Tumblr. You can't tag it properly and people can't filter it out effectively, it's a pain to read (lots of scrolling), and it's a pain to archive. So that was definitely never an option for me!

My original novels never went anywhere before they became novels, partly because if you 'dry run' stories like that, Amazon and other distributors can get tetchy and say it's no longer a first edition and sometimes even pull your ebooks offline without enough paperwork, lol. So I just...would not do that because even if it all works out, knowing how other authors have been treated re: this issue, I would not!

I'm a big believer in just kind of taking the leap and putting fic up wherever you feel comfortable. If that's AO3 or Tumblr, then do it! The fear is normal, it is a normal part of writing, and a normal part of facing that gap between 'only I've seen it' to 'now other people will see it.' The good news is you can always delete the fic if you don't like it. On AO3 you can delete any comments you don't like. But those kinds of worst case scenarios are incredibly rare.

What's (sadly) more likely is just that not many people will necessarily read it at first, until more people start finding your writing and your tags, and that can take a little time!

It can be good sometimes to sit down and really figure out what you're scared of re: posting a story. Because a lot of the fears have concrete answers:

Scared of people hating it? Most people will just click away if it's not their thing, and if they try and make it your problem, you can delete and/or block everything to do with them.

Scared no one will notice it? Well, that is actually a normal part of writing for almost all of us when we just start out. You're part of a huge community of writers experiencing exactly the same thing you are. You are never alone as a writer, even when it feels lonely. Sometimes you can find Discords and similar groups to get more notice, but often it's just a matter of taking the time to put more words out there.

Scared someone will be mean to you? Understandable! However, you don't deserve bullying from anyone. Block these people and then go find a space that feels good to you or watch something that feels wholesome or go outside or do something that doesn't feel 'chronically online.' (It's amazing how much trolls don't matter as much when you're looking at a sunset, or eating your favourite food).

These are all pretty universal fears in writing (and the arts) before posting something, and after posting something, and I wish I could tell you they'll all go away one day, but I think what happens for many of us instead is that we learn more tools to deal with these fears. It helps knowing that most folks get them to some degree, and most of us have learned ways to deal with them - that's why authors will tell you to block trolls and delete troll comments, and that's why authors will reassure you that they started out in a place where no one noticed them at first too, and that's why authors will sometimes talk about how folks have been mean to them and how they were impacted by it, but also remembered to ground / reminded themselves who their real friends are - and that doesn't necessarily stop the fear and the pain, but the solidarity can help.

Post your writing on Tumblr (ignore my personal thoughts on Tumblr fiction, that's just my feelings and they are not universal lol, lots of people love Tumblr fics), post it on AO3, post it on Tumblr first and then AO3 later!

AO3 is a great place to put fics, because you can write about anything and put it up literally any time, and even orphan it / make it anonymous or delete it if you want to. You have complete creative control.

You'll never get to see what's on the other side of your fears if you don't take the leap.

But it's also okay if you're just not ready yet. :)

#asks and answers #pia on writing #pia on fanfiction #i know so many authors #who feel this feeling before posting every new story #you get better at managing the fear #but it never fully leaves #(at least for many of us)#i wish you luck anon!#please know that someone out there needs to read your story #and your version of your story #more than you could ever know #it might take them a while to find you #but they'll never find you if you never put the work up

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roxannepolice · 2 years ago

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Ever since POTD aired I have been raging in my tags, casually reblogging wonderful gifs and fanarts, and staying away from discussions by not using any main tags, but. I'm starting to feel like that 52 Hz whale. Or Beatles' fool on the hill. And I can't tell if it's hearing impairment on my part or if the old guy playing the lyre is not really touching the strings. I can only hope anyone who might get upset filters their tags and won't go under the cut, but I genuinely need to share this with anyone.

Can someone tell me what the Doctor being forced to regenerate into the Master actually did? What it means, outside of welp, I guess text said it is so so it so and it's bad because the text said it's bad? Apart from the Doctor being... less un-present in the story than when a little girl turned them into a picture, but wtv, I get what happened here, Thirteen is in the netherworld of regeneration, and for now no embodied consciousness of the Doctor exists, while the Master's does. But that's in no way different from the Doctor just being dead? Stuff achieved by a self-made flood in alternative timeline in Turn Left? Tho I guess then the Master stays trapped as Yana at the end of the universe, incidentally Saxon is not mentioned in the episode and, well there's a reason TL is so good.

I mean, the one, definite thing that's supposed to stay throughout all of the regenerations, the thing that makes the character the same bloody character and not simply the same show with a protagonist of the same name are MEMORIES. Like this approach to identity or not, that's what's spelled out by Five:

And incidentally when Roberts!Master absorbs Eight's lives he also explicitly gets the Doctor's memories.

So, the logical conclusion is, the Master absorbed the Doctor's memories when she was forced to regenerate into him, right? That's what it means that he's the Doctor now, isn't it?

Well, no. He doesn't know who Fugutive Doctor is.

Something he should know if he now has the Doctor's memories. Nitpick? A handful of lines? Maybe. Except the plot's resolution depends on this handful of lines, you'd expect thought to be put into them. I guess the argument can be made that he's in post-regenerative stress? The Doctors sometimes had memory problems after regenerating? But that's kind of a stretch considering the confidence of both Yaz and the Doctor's disembodied memories that the Master won't know who Fugitive is. Watsonianly I guess this stretch could be made, but doylistly it's glaring that no thoughts were made.

And look, if it was just the case that the Master is an idiot? That the idea that one time lord can be regenerated into another was simply as wrong as that Rassilon will let them ascend into eternal choruses of harmony of the spheres? OK! I'd take it! Realisations are made, things are felt, reactions happen, a story is told. But in POTD no-one questions whether the Master is now the Doctor on the grounds of identity, memories, immortal soul, Dasein or whatever you choose to call it, only on... companions knowing the Master is not the Doctor. I guess in School Reunion Ten spent some time not being the Doctor when Sarah Jane hasn't spontaneously realised he's the person? And still was the Doctor as John Smith because Martha knew about the chameleon arch?

There could be some discussion about refected self as/vs. identity but this isn't what the text seems to be saying or what anyone got from it? And I know I'm ranting stuff out, but I genuinely want to discuss this! Am I missing something here, just what is there for the reader to sympathize with? I mean, it's sad, and Dhawan's teary lil' eyes are heartbreaking, but I really don't get what actually happened there?...

Which is something that frustrates me, personally. Again, I really don't want to start any haterants, it is no hill I'm ready to die on, in fact it's fairly possible I'll slide down it as soon as I post this, but I also really want to discuss this with someone...

'Cause right now I guess I have to admit this situation indeed makes me sympathize with the Master as the only person that seems aware of plot implications of a major development that noone else acknowledges. And I admit: it sucks.

#tw: negativity #negativity #chibnall critical #power of the doctor #doctor who meta #the master meta #or rather inviation to discussion #last time i was so frustrated was when my supervisor wouldn't allow my theretical approach #so guess what i wrote a thesis so everyone would admit my logic is sound and fruitful #ranting so maybe i'll finally sleep #again i really really hope i've tagged it so people can filter it out but let me know if i should add sth

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destinygoldenstar · 3 months ago

Text

☀️HOW DID WE GET HERE?!?!☀️ - Total Drama Viewer Reacts to Disventure Camp Season 1 Episode 9 “Don’t Open, Campers Inside”

TRIGGER WARNING: BLOOD & GORE

Okay, this italicized part is an EDIT after the reaction. I need to put up a trigger warning for this episode as a reason why I might not show as many images as usual.

I don't think it's as bad as it could've been, otherwise I think OddNation would get demonetized. But to be on the safe side, THIS EPISODE/THIS POST IS NOT FOR THE HEMOPHOBIC.

I WILL put a TW in the tags as well so they don't see the post. But in case your account doesn't have the filter for this sort of thing, HERE'S YOUR WARNING.

I have a gut feeling that we're gonna start losing besties in these next few episodes. If anything last episode was to go off by.

I said this last episode, but in terms of who I think are gonna win at this point... Finalists, Ellie, Fiore, and... I guess Jake. With Ellie winning.

Ellie just has the most understanding motive to win out of all of them and it would be satisfying to see her achieve her dreams.

No I guess Alec does too, but I can't see the scenario in my head. I BARELY react to the Alec scenes, I realize. But I looked back last episode and realized Alec said he "Wished his son was like Fiore" which... OOF, I wish I had a reaction to that. Because holy shit, you're a bad dad if you think that.

He just doesn't have as much emotional range as some of the others. So I don't gravitate towards him as much. I do think he's okay though.

I think that's my takes: Alec's... okay. Fiore's the villain so naturally I don't route for her. Grett's a bad bitch and we stan but also she's not winning. Miriam's great. Tom's great. I love Jake. MAKE UP GOSH DARN IT. And Ellie... I do like her, I admit. She's growing on me.

Yeah...idk what to expect this time. Other than I THINK another idol should come into play. Cause the heroes are outnumbering the villains and the show can't eliminate all the villains before the finale. That's plot armor for you. (I made a post about this topic. Plot Armor is not a criticism.) So with Fiore exposed, ain't no way anyone's flipping. So the only other way is to find an idol. One of the villains gets it, they nullify the votes, and one of the heroes gets the boot.

If I had to predict, probably Tom. Tom's a threat. Plain and simple.

Plus with his kind of character, I know Tom is NEVER winning anyway.

I know I said vote off Jake last episode, but that was because you could gain Ellie's loyalty from that. Well you lost the chance. Even if you do boot Jake it ain't gonna put Ellie on your side. Ya should've booted him when it was convenient and you had the chance.

"Tom & Miriam would ditch Ellie after the villains were out"

By then it'd be the FINAL THREE. So what does that matter?

God I said I didn't have a lot to say and here we are. Let's just get into it.

"What the hell was that bullshit in the elimination?!"

OMG THANK YOU

THANK YOU

GRETT CALLS IT OUT. OMG THANK YOU.

I FEEL VALIDATED.

"You mean the way we were exposed?"

...oh.

No I was talking about your choice on voting.

Nope. I'm not validated.

"Golden, that's the thing with us villains. We don't need your permission to slay. We do it anyway."

"You don't understand kid! I can't lose!"

Trauma dump?

👏Trauma dump👏 Trauma dump 👏Trauma dump👏

"I can't go home without the money!"

"Are you in debt?"

"No, it's not the money itself. It's what it stands for... If I win, my parents will finally be proud of me."

AWWWW, GRETT, HONEY

"Why does everyone think money can solve their personal problems?"

Then... why are you here Fiore?

Also Ellie would like a word.

"Alec thinks winning will fix problems with his wife and you think winning this will make your parents love you. I'm gonna be honest Alec, that marriage is a divorce waiting to happen."

NOT THE CHILD MARRAIGE COUNSELING

"What experience can a six year old have?!"

"Well let's see, my parents abandoned me in the woods. Clearly they hate me."

"My mother never loved me and I know her life would be much better if I never existed. She's told me she thinks I'm a monster..."

OUCH

God, am I starting to feel bad for her now?!

"...I know she's right, but it still hurts to hear."

Oh.

So she's just kinda accepted that she's awful.

"The adults in my life think I'm a demon with no redeeming qualities, so that must be true. Might as well live off that."

Does that imply that Fiore was an accidental pregnancy...?

I mean I'm not a mother, but I know that's something that can happen if you don't, you know, control yourself.

"But you know what? After awhile, the hurt starts to hurt less, and you start taking ownership of who you are."

👏

WHY AM I LIKING THE CHILD NOW?!?!

I mean she's a pretty static character. BUT I think that works in this favor.

"If you want to win, do it for yourself. Prove to those that didn't have faith in you. Prove it to yourself that you're worth it."

👏

See Grett? You found your place as a monster too.

"I couldn't care less about Grett's pathetic insecurities-"

Yeah, she cares about literally nobody.

She WILL ditch these guys on the bus the moment she has the chance.

And she's gonna show no remorse doing it.

And when that happens I'm gonna be HOWLING.

Oh not these two again.

YOU'VE BEEN FIGHTING THE PAST THREE EPISODES. GET OVER IT.

"Hey Tom, I know I said this a dozen times, but I really am sowwy. Can you forgive me?"

"Jake I just learned I have cancer. And for some reason I'm gonna say that's your fault. Get out of my life."

"I've been thinking about what you've told me..."

Oh wait.

Are they actually gonna make up now?

"Maybe you weren't the only selfish one. I attacked you without thinking about how you were feeling..."

Oh yeah they are!

So he just needed to cool off after the news. I get it.

"You don't have to apologize."

"It's all me. It's always my fault. I'm the one who always has to take the blame for things like this."

"I want us to be friends again."

HALLELUJAH!! THANK YOU!!!

"But lets both try to be better. For our sakes."

YUSS!!! FRIENDSHIP RESTORED!!!

THEIR DRAMA CAN BE PUT TO REST NOW!!!!

I'm okay with them just being friends. I think that is healthier that way given they're... messy.

So I'm actually really happy about this.

"Where are Jake and Tom?"

They're 'hanging out' if you know what I mean...

I'm sorry.

"Maybe they're making up."

Up or out?

GOD I JUST SAID I WAS GLAD THEY WERE JUST FRIENDS, WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?!

"For some reason, Golden is whispering in my hear and urging me to kiss the boy."

"Sorry for attacking you so much in the previous challenge."

Is she trying to be allies with these guys now? I called it.

"It's okay. It was also my fault. I judged you too soon without knowing if you were with them or not."

Well she was, but she's not anymore.

She's a redeemed girlie

"I do that a lot."

"Do what?"

"Judging people without knowing their true intentions."

Yeah I can see that.

"It's fine. We can't change the past. We have to look towards a better future."

YES. ALLYSHIP.

CALLED IT!

"Maybe I was wrong to think badly of these young-ins."

"Except Fiore. She's just as bad as I thought."

"Any update about your job?"

He got FIRED. I don't think you get an update after that.

"Anyway, I haven't been sure for awhile if this is what I really want..."

Oh?

You didn't want to be a spy?

"...or if I'm even good at it..."

Uh...

Yeah, you weren't, I'm gonna be brutally honest.

You can find a new job. One that you love. One where you can work AND maintain relationships.

"You think you weren't meant to be a spy?"

"I don't know. But it's not like I have a choice anymore."

Yeah... that's a hard situation. I can relate to that.

AH-!

OH MY GOD.

I DIDN'T-OH MY GOD...

"I don't work there anymore... I don't need this..."

So he WAS wearing that for his job! So he's ditching his career?!

OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH...

Oh THAT'S why...

I was thinking awhile it would be that he had a scarred face, but I wasn't sure. AND I was joking about it this whole time. God I feel awful now...

I'm trying to look at this properly. What happened? Was he in a fire or something? I can't tell cause it's a cartoon, but that MIGHT be burn scars?????

I don't know, maybe he's gonna explain it.

"My first job was a couple months ago. I was sloppy and I got found out. Things went wrong, and my captors... gave me this..."

😨

OH MY GOD, HE WAS TORTURED?!?!?!

HOLY-I DIDN'T THINK THEY WERE GONNA GO THAT DARK WITH IT.

Holy god, I can't even imagine. I don't want to imagine Tom getting tortured like that.

"The boss wasn't happy. I was tasked to come onto this show as a contestant to investigate it. This job was my last chance, and I blew it."

Ouch...

"Were you using that mask to hide your identity or... were you...?"

"That's just an excuse. The truth is I... I felt ashamed..."

Aw...😢

"But you look good, Tom."

Awwwwww...💗

...wwwwAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHH

OOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH MYY GOD!!!!

*I got out of my chair and paced around for a minute*

AAAAAAAHHHH💗

*I'm giddy and out of breath*

I didn't expect them to kiss today... oh my god...

YEEESSS!!! I FEEL VALIDATED!!!!!

Oh my god, Tom Face Reveal. AND... ship name kiss, IN THE SAME SCENE. That's too much for the feels.

Jam. It's Jam isn't it? I don't have jam on me right now.

I actually don't like eating jam. I'm not a jelly person.

Okay okay okay, I'm sorry. I'll keep going.

"...I'm not."

Aw 💗

"Attention campers! Challenge time!"

Oh screw you!

They're good for each other. They're actually good for each other.

I HAD MY DOUBTS. But they do work.

*I had to get water* (Y'all keep your dirty jokes about that)

OH ARE THEY GETTING KIDNAPPED?!

Gosh darn it, I KNEW Chris McLean was here!

How are you all sleeping sitting up?

Is this a "Escape the chamber" challenge?

"The hosts are clearly screwing with us."

OKAY NO I JUST THOUGHT OF SOMETHING IN MY HEAD

DANGANRONPA 2 FUNHOUSE

OH PLEASE TELL ME THIS BOTH IS, AND ISN'T THAT

Cause that situation was HELL

Where'd you get the hats from?

"What happened to the sky?"

"It's covered in grapes and strawberries, and idk why that is-also why is part of the forest blocked off? Why can't we get out?"

"Fiore I don't think you're supposed to be playing those games."

I still headcanon Fiore is a Mortal Combat fangirl.

"Where'd you get that hat?"

WHERE'D YOU GET THAT HAT?!

OH MY GOD. THE HATS ARE SENTIENT.

"Alright gang, grab every weapon in this place you can find and start SMASHING!!!"

Why does the cabin have so much weaponry?!

"Fiore, I think I know what's happening."

"Don't freak out... but a bear is gonna pop out in a minute and force us to kill each other."

"It's the only explanation. Don't tell anyone."

"Uh, we are right here and in hearing range."

"What happened with your mask?"

Oh yeah they don't know...

God it's SO WEIRD seeing Tom without the mask now.

OH SHIT-

UM, HELLO?!?!?!

IM SORRY, WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING?!?!

“What the hell is that?!”

My thoughts exactly Ellie!

DID THEY WAKE UP IN THE FUTURE?! WHAT'S HAPPENING?!?!

I'M WATCHING A TOTAL DRAMA FANFICTION, RIGHT?!?!

"It looks like a-a-a person..."

"Like a dead person?!"

Tom, you killed a guy!

OH GOOD LORD-

YEAH WE'RE NOT WATCHING DISVENTURE CAMP ANYMORE

If you asked me what my predictions were for this show: "Let's make a PLOT TWIST in the middle of the show and turn it into a zombie apocalypse 'The Walking Dead' show" Would NEVER be on my list.

WHAT THE HELL

I mean if you know me, you know I like death game stories...

But surprisingly, I don't actually like zombie apocalypse stories. It's not just my cup of tea.

Because zombie apocalypse stories are just so bloody hopeless and there's absolutely no way out of inevitable fate. It's just "This is hell, wait till it's your turn to die."

And I just naturally find that less compelling than stuff like Hunger Games, Squid Game, and Danganronpa, where there IS a possibility to escape your fate, even if it's really small.

With these kinds of stories, I'm just waiting for everyone to die. So I get less attached.

That's just my opinion.

"Did you hear that?!"

"Sounded like gunshots!"

"Don't worry guys! It's just Tom killing a man! It's fine!"

"I KISSSED A SERIAL KILLER?!?!"

I mean, I WOULD say this is all a stage show. Like these are just people wearing makeup.

BUT YOU CAN'T FAKE TOM KILLING A GUY.

UNLESS YOU'RE A PSYCHOPATH WORSE THAN CHRIS MCLEAN

"I don't care if he's a serial killer! HE'S MY LOVE! WE'RE LETTING HIM IN. WHAT'S THE WORSE THAT COULD HAPPEN?!"

"What's going on?!"

"Ellie why do you have ketchup splashed all over your face?"

"They looked like people, but they're not!"

"I would never kill a man! I swear!!"

"What if it was a woman?"

"...shit!!"

"Is that... a bite?"

OH SHIT

They're not gonna KILL Ellie, right?!

Cut off her arm, and she might be saved!

"...well, one step closer to winning."

GRETT. WTF?! YOU"RE A PSYCHOPATH!!!

I mean I'm not surprised. BUT WTF?!

"I think we... have to... cut off your arm."

NO I WAS JUST JOKING, YOU'RE ACTUALLY GONNA DO IT?!?!?!?!?

"GOLDEN IS OUR OVERLORD AND SHE TOLD ME TO SAVE YOU BY CUTTING OFF YOUR ARM!!!"

"Isn't this just a silly challenge?!"

GOD I HOPE SO

CAUSE THIS IS FUCKED UP

OH MY GOD THEY'RE ACTUALLY DOING IT...

I'M SORRY ELLIE!!!

"So... this ISN'T a challenge?"

YOU THINK?!?!!!

NOW YOU REGRET IT?!?!

"I think I'm gonna faint."

I WOULD TOO.

ELLIE NOOOOOOOO

OKAY. WHO GAVE THE CHILD A GUN?!

I mean it's good reason, but who gave the child a gun?!

ONE WEEK LATER?! WTF?!?!?

HOW DID WE GET HERE???!?!

WE'RE NOT EVEN HALFWAY DONE WITH THE EPISODE. THEY WOKE UP IN THE FUTURE. THERE'S A ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE. ELLIE IS DEAD.

HOW DID WE GET HERE?!??!

"The show is over... we're just lucky to be alive..."

You know what's crazy? I made a DUMBASS THEORY about the Total Drama Reboot that never happened cause it was too insane.

I said that Chris McLean was planning to take over the world and was using the show to turn people into robot slaves and start an apocalypse. And the Season 2 ending of the reboot would be just like this.

DID SOMEONE WHO WORKED ON DISVENTURE CAMP FIND MY POST AND SAY "We should make THAT the plot of our show!"?!?!

AND Y'ALL BELIEVED I WAS INSANE.

WHERE'S MY CREDIT?! I CAME UP WITH THIS.

"Wow Miriam, how'd you learn to do that?"

"Back in my day, I was secretly a serial killer!"

"Are there really knife throwing contests?"

I would be CONCERNED if there were.

"Grett and Alec got bit... we got attacked... I was the only one who made it out..."

This is a trap.

Tom is probably the most equipped for surviving this.

OH GOD-

YOU CAN'T JUST HOLD A CHILD AT GUNPOINT, TOM

YOU CAN'T JUST DO THAT.

"I'll put one right between your eyes."

Tom, you're done.

OKAY, RIP ALEC

Tom is NOT fucking around!

"Tom! Are you okay?"

"No worries. I got a body count in the double digits now. Cool, huh?"

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

MIRIAM NOOOOOOOO

WHAT?!! THAT CAME OUT OF NOWHERE!!

"Miriam, stay with me!!"

NO NO NO NO NO NO NO...

NOT THE GRANDMA

"Don't leave me!!"

AWWWW JAKE NOOO😢

He's losing another grandma! 😭

"Coming to this camp was worth it... I didn't think my last days would end like this... but I'm happy they were with you... you are the grandchildren I never had."

😭💗

HE'S YOUR GRANDSON. DON'T LEAVE HIM.

NOOOOOOO

"Not again!!" *cries*

AWWW JAKE, HONEY NOOOOOO 😭

Don't Make Jake Suffer Challenge. Level: Impossible.

Yeah lets just cut to a six year old driving a bus. Why not?

I'M STILL MOURNING

*Patreon*

THIS WHIPLASH AIN'T HELPING

HOW DID WE GET HERE?!?!

Yeah. Sure. One Month Later.

I don't even care anymore.

HOW. DID. WE. GET. HERE?!?!?

"Remember last month? Before all this? What you said about my parents?"

"You want to ask if I think they're alive? Well I got bad news."

"They're in Mexico right now."

"Being alone out here this last month has taught me that I don't need them. I never did. They were never there for me."

Well good for you for getting development queen.

"I know where to get a map to the nearest city."

*I get a body spray ad*

...I don't even know how that translates to what they just said.

Oh yeah I forgot Alec died too!

Fiore did not give a SHIT, did she?

*rewinds to look back*

Yeah she doesn't give a rats ass about you Alec.

Awww, these two...

Hey wait.

*look at Jake's neck*

Why does Jake have a hickey?

Guys, I'm not supposed to be reading too much into that, am I????

What have you boys been doing this past month?!?

"Every day it's the same. Go out and find supplies, run away from these creatures and DO IT all over again..."

...

I'm sorry, my mind is in a dirty place now. He said "DO IT all over again".

GUYS I'M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE READING TOO MUCH INTO THIS, AM I?!?!?!?

"I don't know... I don't think this will ever end..."

Can we give Jake a hug? PLEASE?

"Hey... at least we have each other."

THANK YOU💗

THEY LOVE EACH OTHER💗

NO GODDAMMIT

FIORE WHYYYYYYYY

“Hey guys! I got another trick I wanna show you. It’s called: ‘BURY YOUR GAYS’”

*Jake gets killed too*

Goddammit...

NOT A SIX YEAR OLD MURDERING MY BOYS

HOW DID WE GET HERE?!?!??!

"I'm sorry Grett, but I need this immunity."

Wait what-

*Murders Grett*

WELP.

This is how we got here.

A six year old is celebrating among her victims.

"WHOO HOOO!!! I KILLED EVERYBODY!!!!"

WHY IS TOM IN THE FAMILY GUY POSE?!?!?!?!?

"See that's my secret Golden. My mask protects me from getting killed, so I'm just faking my death."

"...oh wait I'm not wearing my mask anymore. SHIT-"

...

WAIT WHAT THE FUCK?!

IT WAS ALL VR?!

I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS.

HOW DID WE GET HERE?!??!?!?!?!

"Oh my gosh, my arm! I have my arm!"

"Oh my gosh, I've been in a coma for a MONTH! Cause I died on the first day!"

"Victory is mine! MIIIIINNNNEEE!!!"

All Fiore cares about is winning.

When a six year old is an even worse psychopath than Grett.

"Am-am-am I dead?!"

Jake. Honey.

EVERYONE is going to need SERIOUS THERAPY after this.

HOLY SHIT THAT IS TRAUMATIZING.

I can't even blame Jake one bit. He watched his friend get turned into a zombie and die. He watched his surrogate grandma die. He watched his boyfriend die. He watched HIMSELF die. AND IT WAS IN THE SPAN OF A MONTH

...nah, therapy ain't fixing him.

"A few hours ago, you fell asleep, and we put you through our hyper realistic VR simulator."

You guys are fucked up.

Even Chris McLean is saying that's fucked up.

"I'm just glad I have both my arms again."

Ellie's just done.

"Yeah TOM! Don't cut a woman's arm off! I'M VOTING YOU TONIGHT."

Watch it actually be Tom that's going and that's Ellie's reason.

I feel like Tom's story is done anyway.

"The challenge was to survive the zombie apocalypse."

You can't survive a zombie apocalypse. Either you DIE, or you DIE.

"Wait, so you KILLED ME to get immunity?!"

YEAH.

If THAT doesn't prove to you that Fiore is FUCKED UP BEYOND REPAIR, idk what does.

"Weren't we in an alliance?"

"We were. But we got exposed last round."

ARE YOU DITCHING GRETT?!

YOU NEED HER FOR NUMBERS.

Idk why I'm asking at this point. These villains plans have been stupid these past two episodes.

I mean, it's not THAT bad here because there was no other option after they killed Tom & Jake. So...

I won't rant this time.

"You'll be distorted for a few more hours, adjusting back to our time, getting back to your body, all that kind of stuff."

"And you'll probably need YEARS of therapy."

"What do we do? We have to decide between Alec or Grett."

Yeah, obviously.

At least Ellie doesn't hold beef about the arm thing.

*Grett Voted Alec*

Aaaaannnndd the villains are turning on each other.

Idiots.

*Fiore Voted Grett*

Wait what are you doing?

"That game is the closest I'll ever get to legally shooting someone in the face."

Fiore you are a psycho.

*Alec Voted Grett*

"Now that we're exposed, we don't need you anymore."

Welp. Grett's gone.

Unless the heroes voted Alec...

'ALEC'

We know.

'GRETT'

'ALEC'

OH THEY DID VOTE ALEC. WAIT A MINUTE.

'GRETT'

THE HEROES VOTED ALEC. WHERE ELSE WOULD THAT COME FROM?

'GRETT'

...wait what?

Wow. Didn't even need to read all the votes.

Who threw their vote on Alec then?

*thinks about it*

Jake, why'd you do that? There's no reason.

"I might be thinking about turning on the heroes, you know?"

*sigh* Queen's time to go.

"Fiore, Alec, even though you betrayed me, I won't lie. I had a good time with you."

At least she's taking this well.

"It will be difficult, but I'll try and take what you said to heart. I'll stop trying to prove anything to anyone. In fact... that includes you."

"FUCK ALL OF YOU. PEACE OUT!!"

😂👏

YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSS

Queen Queen Queen Queen QUEEEEENNNNN

👑

SHE SLAYED TILL THE END

...LITERALLY

Oh my god... what an episode...

Um... so how did we get here? That was... crazy.

Idk how I feel about it. Honestly. Maybe it's just cause of my taste for zombie apocalypse stories. But also, this is DEFINATELY gonna be something these people are gonna have nightmares about.

I mean, okay, two things,

One: JAM IS CANON. 🍉

...there's no jam emoji

At least they worked things out and they're happy together.

I feel like one of them is going next episode. From an idol, like I said. But hey, at least they worked things out and they're happy now and they can work through each other's baggage together.

"Screw you VR Simulator! We're not going to Mexico! We're going to CHINA! And we're eating dumplings!"

I'm happy for them.

And Grett.

Queen. What can I say?

I STANNED HER WHEN NO ONE ELSE DID AND NO ONE ELSE SHOULD AND I STAND BY THAT.

Okay it's not a secret I like her. But I also think she's interesting as an antagonist with her more human story about her family life and wanting to prove herself, but not knowing *how* exactly.

And she found her place with the other villains. Before, you know, they betrayed her. But what do you expect? And at least she took it well.

I admit, I feel like these last three episodes of her were a BIT rushed, but I can't say I would swap her elimination to later until I finish the season and see what the other eliminations are.

I knew she was never winning anyway. Like I said last time, I don't hate it when these shows eliminate my favs, cause I know that's something they HAVE to do. So I fully expected her to get eliminated, and I'm fine with it.

Prediction next episode: Fiore or Alec find an idol and they pull one on the heroes, and with it they get Tom out. That's what I think is gonna happen.

If you guys want me to continue these reactions, be sure to let me know.

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