#i've been wanting to say something forever

[phyrestartr]

Deal With It | Gojo Satoru x M!Reader (TEASER)

CW: Arranged marriage, SELF-HARM (on and off-screen), hurt/comfort, angst, drama, self-loathing, blood and gore, implied depression, suicidal thoughts, suicidal ideation #NSFW, probably top Gojo, probably bottom reader, maybe switch idk, idek if they'll bang it out tbh lol, angst with a happy ending, reader is a sorcerer, time skips, time progression, relationship development, student era into teacher era Note: I got this request to make a story revolving around Gojo and an arranged marriage to the reader (but bro is in love with Getou sob.gif), and I've been RUMINATING on it for forever. I think I finally have a good idea of who the reader is/what their chemistry is like with Gojo, so I'm happy to post a wee bit of a teaser to motivate myself! Let me know your thoughts---I'm finding that I absolutely love writing for Gojo, so I'm down to write more LOL. He's a very fun, complex character.

Deal With It

“So, you really don’t care what he thinks?” Shoko asked as you lit her cigarette. “Even I think he was kinda harsh.”

You pocketed your lighter and leaned back against the cold stone of the college walls. “He’s got a thing for that black-haired guy.”

“Getou.” 

“Sure.” You shrugged and tried to rub the ache out of your neck as you stared up at the bleak, grey skies. The air reeked of petrichor. Thankfully you’d brought an umbrella that day. 

“And you’re not bothered he’s in love with Getou?” Your friend continued, her cute bobbed haircut swaying with the tilt of her head. She always looked so charming like that, when she was being a mischievous brat while pretending to be anything but. 

“Dunno.” And that was the truth. “He’s not even my type. I’d rather hitch up with someone like you or Nanami. Someone less annoying. Less loud-mouthed.” 

“Ooh, that'll hurt his ego.” Shoko smiled. “Well, guess you'll have to learn to deal with it.”

You took a deep breath and rubbed your face as you nodded. “Yeah.”

–

“Forever is a long time,” You mumbled, leaning your forehead against the cool touch of the window. Rain pittered and pattered, exploding off the glass like trillions of kamikaze planes. It almost birthed some sort of hurt in your chest. Best not to dwell on it, you decided.

“Hah? Are you talking to yourself again like a weirdo?” The one and only Gojo Satoru yowled before kicking you in the rear like a petulant child. “Pft! Figures. Knowing my luck, I would have to get married to a creeper.” 

“Even if you married Getou, you'd still be marrying a creep,” you grumbled, dusting the dirt off your behind. “You need something? Or did you harass me just for the fun of it.” 

You heard Gojo, your fiancé, scoff and shuffle behind you. “I just wanted to remind you to humble yourself! Just because I'm forced to marry you doesn't mean you're accomplished or cool or anything, got it?” 

Being in his presence had you craving a cigarette. “Yeah, got it.” 

“And Suguru's better than you,” he added, aloof voice bowing down beneath hardened, steeled words. “Don't forget that either.” 

You bit down on your cheek to ward away the heat building under your skin, the magma sinking deep into your eyesockets and threatening to pour down your esophagus. The taste of iron washed against your tongue, and you released your flesh from between your molars. Sometimes, you wanted to keep boring down on yourself to see how much you could really take, but a fear of the answer too often made you think twice. 

“This is starting to bore me,” you said, tilting your head as you caught a flicker of red in your rain-muddied reflection. You touched your fingers to your tongue and found translucent red coating the tips. 

“Pah. I was gonna say the same!” You watched his reflection turn away. “Good luck trying to impress me.” 

I'm not interested. You watched him walk away, slouching and with his hands in his pockets like he was emulating some kind of yankii character. He might have fit the bill, if he hadn't had such a ridiculous, brat side to him. Just deal with it. You wiped the red on your uniform with a sigh. Tomorrow's a new day.

--

Feel free to comment on this post if you want to be tagged for the full version!

@kamote-kuneho @tr4nnie @silvern1006

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔴𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔱

Mike Schmidt x male reader

A request that I received from a friend on tumblr. ‘The reader has to leave for a week roughly, when he comes back Abby is obviously excited and wanting to play with the reader the rest of the day. But all Mike wants to do is have you under him writhing in ecstasy. Basically it's Mike having blue balls for most of the fic until the end when it's night and he *politely* hugs the reader while they frantically make love’

Tags: Part 10 of this miniseries of Mike Schmidt x male reader. No use of Y/N. Age-gap (5 years) between you and Mike. Male reader. He/him pronouns used towards the reader. Mike is missing you deeply. A tiny bit of jealousy. Mentions of phone sex. Smut. Top Mike. Bottom reader. Anal sex.

Words count: 3000 words

Part 1-Part 2- Part 3-Part 4-Part 5-Part 6-Part 7-Part 8 -Part 9

Can also be found on wattpad and ao3

The moment you stepped through the door, Abby's squeal echoed through the house. You barely had time to set your bag down before she came bounding toward you, her little arms outstretched. She wrapped herself around your waist in an enthusiastic hug, nearly knocking you off balance.

"You're back! You're back!" she cried, hopping on her toes as if to emphasize the sheer force of her excitement.

You laughed, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Missed me that much?"

She pulled back, her face a mixture of indignation and joy. "Of course I missed you! You've been gone forever!" She tugged at your hand insistently, her small fingers gripping tightly. "You have to see what I did while you were gone. I drew a lot! And I made one for you and you have to see it."

"Abby, take it easy, you're going to knock him over," Mike's voice came from the kitchen, casual but unmistakably warm. "He has been gone a week and you've got him chained to you already?"

"I missed you too," you said with a grin before kneeling down to meet Abby’s eye level. "Have you been good while I was gone? Not driving your brother too crazy, I hope?"

Abby giggled, then held out her pinky. "Promise I've been super good. Except maybe when I made Mike drop the spaghetti last night because I tried to do a cartwheel in the kitchen."

You glanced up at Mike, your smile widening. “Sounds like I missed quite a week.”

Mike rolled his eyes, though the faintest smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Sorry about her," his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "She's been talking about you all week. You'd think you were gone for months." His voice sent a pleasant shiver through you, low and steady but edged with amusement.

"She's fine," you said, smiling. "Honestly, it's nice to be missed."

He leaned against the doorframe, the dim lighting catching the tired creases under his eyes. Black hair messy t-shirt that clung to his lean but sturdy frame. His gaze lingered on you and only now did you realize how much you had missed him.

Abby, oblivious to the silent tension, kept tugging at your hand. "Come on! I need to show you something!" Her excitement bubbled over, her small hands pulling you toward her room with surprising strength. "I drew so many things while you were gone and you have to see them all!".

You glanced over at Mike, offering him a half-apologetic smile as his sister guided you by her room. He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, his lips twitching between amusement and thinly veiled frustration.

Mike's brow arched slightly as though to say, ‘Really? After a week away, you're prioritizing her?’ But he didn't speak his protest aloud. Instead, he pushed off the doorway with a grunt, muttering, "Guess I'll just... wait my turn."

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors, with crayon drawings taped to the walls, scattered across the floor and piled on her tiny desk. Abby flopped onto the carpet, pulling out a stack of drawings with the urgency of someone sharing top-secret information. "Okay, okay! Look at this one first. It's Chica but I made her of a different color."

You chuckled, sitting cross-legged beside her as she thrust the drawing into your hands. “A total masterpiece."

Her eyes sparkled at your praise. "You think so? Look at this one!" She shuffled through the pile, pulling out another one that she eagerly handed to you.

"This one is us at the park," she explained, holding up a crayon drawing of the three of you surrounded by flowers and trees. "Those two are you and Mike holding hands! I drew it because you're always together."

You couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling a tinge of embarrassment but also a deep sense of affection. "You're quite the artist, Abby. I look amazing here. You're going to be famous one day."

Her eyes lit up at the compliment, and she beamed with pride. "Really?"

"Absolutely," you assured her, glancing at Mike. "Right, Mike?"

From the bed, where Mike had sprawled out with all the ease of a man trying to keep his patience in check, a low sound of approval erupted. He smirked at the question, his gaze flickering between you and Abby. "Yeah, kid. You've got some real talent. Be careful, though. Keep going like this and his ego's going to get too big." His dark eyes watched you intently, softening ever so slightly every time Abby smiled at you.

Abby's grin widened and she immediately dove into her stack of drawings to find more to show you. Mike's smirk softened into a fond smile as he watched her animatedly interact with you. He loved seeing you and Abby bond, though his gaze kept drifting to you, lingering on the curve of your back as you leaned forward, the way your lips quivered when you laughed and the soft glow in your eyes as you encouraged Abby.

A part of him felt guilty for how often his mind wandered, but he couldn't stop the flood of thoughts. He knew he should focus on the moment, but his body's reaction to having you so close after a week apart was impossible to ignore

He clenched his jaw, trying to focus on the mundane but his gaze kept wandering back to you. Your fingers brushed hers as you helped her shuffle through the pile of pictures, your laughter soft and genuine as you let her talk about her latest dream.

‘God, those hands...’ his eyes lingering on the way your fingertips moved. He didn't mean to stare, but the memory of those same hands clutching his shoulders, clawing at his back, sent a flash of heat straight to his core.

He shifted uncomfortably on the bed, feigning disinterest as his thoughts betrayed him. The view of the way you leaned slightly forward, the curve of your spine visible through your shirt made it ten times worse. He wondered, for the briefest of moments, what it would feel like to have you there on the floor, pinned beneath him, the softness of your moans muffled against his lips.

Abby leaned against your shoulder, holding up another picture. This one was clearly meant to be Mike, his hair a chaotic swirl of black scribbles. "This one's you, Mike! I made his hair messy because it's always like that." she exclaimed, holding up a surprisingly decent rendition of his perpetual frown.

"It's not always messy," he protested half-heartedly. He was leaning against the bed frame, one leg propped up, his head tilted lazily against the wall. You turned toward him with a grin. "She's not wrong, though."

Mike shot you a glare, though there was no real malice behind it. "I see you've both decided to team up on me. Great. Just what I needed after a long week." he muttered.

Abby giggled, unfazed by his grumbling as she kept eagerly pulling out new drawings she made

His eyes softened at the sight of you and Abby together. She was sitting so close to you, practically in your lap, her small hand tugging at your sleeve as she babbled on about her next masterpiece. It was enough to make his heart ache, both from the warmth of seeing you bond with her and the sharp sting of jealousy that you weren't paying attention to him.

He let his head fall back against the wall, staring at the ceiling as he tried to shake the frustration bubbling in his chest. He shouldn't feel like this. Abby was a kid and she deserved every bit of your attention. But damn it, he'd missed you. A week without you had felt like an eternity and now that you were here, he had to sit back and wait?

His fingers twitched at the memory of the previous night at work. Alone in the security office, watching the flickering monitors, the silence stretching endlessly. It had been another slow, uneventful shift, the kind that made every second feel like an hour.

One second he was leaning against the chair, the next he got up and grabbed the nearby phone and dialed the number of the structure you were in.

He'd called you on impulse, not even sure you'd pick up so late.

"Mike?" Your voice had been groggy but laced with concern. "It's, like, two in the morning. Are you okay?"

The sound of your voice had been a balm to his frayed nerves. “Yeah," he'd said, leaning back in the chair, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. "I'm fine. Just... bored. Wanted to hear your voice." His tone had shifted, growing rougher, more deliberate.

There'd been a pause, and then a soft chuckle. "You miss me that much, huh?"

He hadn't denied it. He couldn't. Instead, he'd let the words tumble out, his voice dropping to a husky murmur as he told you how much he'd been thinking about you. And God, the way you'd responded, your voice growing softer, breathier, as the conversation took a turn he hadn't dared hope for.

By the end of it, he'd been a mess, stroking himself as your whispered moans filled his ear. He'd closed his eyes, picturing you on his lap, your hands clutching his shoulders, your body rocking against his as he thrust up into you over and over. He could still hear your voice, the way you'd gasped his name when you came. It had been enough to leave him breathless, slumped in his chair with his hand still wrapped around himself.

The memory of your voice, the way you'd whimpered his name through the phone, sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through him even now.

"Mike, you're not even looking!" Abby's voice snapped him back to the present. She was holding up another drawing, her brow furrowed in mock frustration.

He adjusted his position on the bed, praying Abby wouldn't notice the tension in his body, forcing a smile. "Sorry, kiddo. Let me see."

The hours dragged on, but for Mike, every second felt like an eternity. He loved how natural you were with her, how effortlessly you fit into their little world. But the selfish part of him, the one that had spent countless sleepless nights imagining your body pressed against his, was losing the fragile grip it had on its patience.

Night had finally fallen and Abby, despite her earlier determination to stay awake and keep playing, had succumbed to exhaustion. She lay nestled inside the fort she had spent the better part of the evening constructing, pillows stacked precariously, blankets draped over chairs and furniture, her breathing slow and steady. Mike had taken care to tuck another blanket securely around her, brushing her hair back gently before stepping away.

You stood near the doorway, arms crossed, watching the scene with a fond smile. There was something endlessly endearing about seeing Mike in dad mode, his gruff exterior softening as he ensured Abby was warm and comfortable.

"She's out cold," he murmured as he joined you at the door, his voice low to avoid waking her. His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he gently shut the door behind him.

When he turned back to you, there was a shift in his expression. Without a word, he reached out, wrapping his arms around your waist in a firm but measured embrace. His face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, his stubble brushing against your skin as his breath came hot and steady.

"Finally," he murmured, his voice husky. "My turn."

You chuckled softly, though your breath hitched at the weight of his tone. "What, you missed me that much?" You tried to keep your voice light, teasing, though your heart raced as he held you.

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his dark gaze smoldering. "You have no idea." His fingers pressed into your lower back, pulling you closer until your bodies were flush. "No more interruptions. You're mine now."

Mike's hand never left your waist as he guided you down the hall toward the bedroom. His grip was firm but not rushed, his thumb stroking small circles through the fabric of your shirt. Once inside, he kicked the door shut with a soft thud, the sound sending a thrill down your spine.

He turned to you, his eyes tracing over your face before sliding lower, drinking in the sight of you like a man starved. "I've been waiting all day for this," he said quietly, voice low and rough. "All week, really."

He leaned in and captured your lips with his own. The kiss was deep and consuming, tongue brushing yours, coaxing a soft moan from your throat.

He broke the kiss only to press his forehead against yours, his breathing uneven. "God, I missed you," he muttered, his hands sliding under your shirt to touch the bare skin of your back. "Every damn second you were gone, I was thinking about you."

Mike eased you onto the bed, his weight settling between your legs as he kissed you again. His hands worked your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his lips moved lower, trailing down your neck, your chest, each kiss deliberate and hungry.

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your pants, pausing for a moment to look up at you. "Let me take care of you," he murmured, his voice thick with longing.

He leaned down, his lips pressing against your collarbone, your chest, the soft skin of your stomach. Each kiss was hot and deliberate, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. His stubble grazed your skin, a delicious contrast to the softness of his mouth.

When he reached your waistband, he paused, glancing up at you through his lashes. "Can I?" he asked, his voice rough but laced with tenderness.

You nodded, your breath hitching as his hands worked your pants and boxers down in one smooth motion. The cool air against your heated skin made you shiver, but that sensation was quickly replaced by the warmth of his hands as they smoothed over your thighs.

He took his time, his gaze never leaving you as he pressed open-mouthed kisses to your inner thighs, his stubble brushing against the sensitive skin.

"So perfect," he whispered, his voice barely audible, his breath hot against you. "I've missed this so much."

His hands spread your legs wider as he continued his exploration, his lips and tongue teasing you until you were trembling beneath him.

When he finally pulled back, his pupils blown with desire, he reached into the nightstand for the small bottle of lube you both kept there. The sound of the cap clicking open sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

He poured a generous amount onto his fingers before setting it aside. His eyes met yours as he coated his fingers, the intensity of his gaze making your breath catch in your throat.

Your body was trembling with anticipation as you felt his hand slide between your legs, his fingers gently parting your thighs. The first touch of his slick fingers against you made you gasp, your hips instinctively arching off the bed as he began to prepare you. His movements were slow and careful, his fingers working you open with a patience that made your heart swell with affection.

"You're so tight," he murmured, his voice dropping to a near-growl as he worked you open. "God, I've missed feeling like this."

He took his time, making sure you were comfortable, that you were ready, before he added a second finger, then a third, each one stretching you further, preparing you for what was to come.

You could feel every nerve in your body alight with pleasure, every touch sending sparks of electricity through you.

When he finally pulled his fingers out, you couldn't help the whimper that escaped your lips, your body aching for more.

He reached down to unbutton his own pants, quickly shedding the rest of his clothes until he was just as bare as you were.

He settled between your legs, his body pressing against yours. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh.

His words sent a flush of heat through you, your hips moving involuntarily as you chased the feeling of his touch. His free hand gripped your thigh, holding you steady as he added another finger, his movements deliberate.

"You're doing so good for me," he said, his voice softening for a moment. "So good."

The first stretch was intense, a mix of pressure and pleasure as Mike slowly pushed inside. He let out a low, guttural sound as he buried himself to the hilt, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Fuck," he muttered, his head falling forward against your shoulder. "So tight. Feels even better than I remembered."

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his breathing ragged as he fought to hold himself still. "Tell me if it's too much," he said, his voice low but tender.

"It's good," you whispered, your hands sliding up to his shoulders. "Go on."

You clenched around him, drawing a sharp groan from his lips. His movements started slow, his hips rocking gently as he let you adjust. But as your hands found their way to his back, your nails digging in slightly, he couldn't hold back any longer.

Mike's pace quickened, each thrust deep and deliberate, his breath hot against your ear. "You feel so good," he rasped, his voice raw. "God, I've missed this. Missed you."

Your moans filled the room, mingling with the sound of his ragged breathing and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin. Every movement, every touch, felt electric, the built-up tension of the past week spilling over in waves of pleasure.

Mike leaned down, his lips brushing against your jaw as he murmured, "You’re taking me so well... so perfect."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he drove into you with a newfound urgency. His hands roamed your body, touching, gripping, as if he couldn't get enough.

By the time you both reached your peak, you were a mess of tangled limbs and breathless moans. Mike collapsed beside you, his hips stuttered, grip on you tightening as he buried himself to the hilt. His groan was deep and guttural, his body shuddering against yours as he spilled into you, pulling you close against his chest as you both tried to catch your breath.

His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, his lips brushing against your temple. "Don't ever leave me for that long again," he said quietly, his voice still rough from exertion as he tightened his arms around you, his breath evening out as he held you close.

Note: If you liked this story please leave a comment, I love reading them <3. Up next i’ll post another Mike Munroe fic ;)

[hryniewiecki]

Grand Arcane S2 review

because I really need it to move on

Remember how I mentioned I could write an entire book about everything that went wrong with this season? Well, this is what a little excerpt from it would look like.

Let's start with a personal note to clarify my relationship with this hell of a piece of media.

S1 was this miracle show that was able to break through the several years of depression and anhedonia and make me interested in something, make me try to get back into making art (or at least try to try), to put myself out there on the internet a bit, to try be a part of something and not ashamed of enjoying it, which I never allowed myself before. Coincidentally, I've been at what I thought then was the worst place in my life when it aired and it helped me a lot to get through it. I didn't even think I would make it to see S2, as thee years felt like forever then. Taking all that into consideration, I think you can already tell where this is going.

I honestly thought I was prepared for S2 not being good, as no show could be this perfect. Turns out I wasn't prepared at all. Act 1 made me very happy, so happy I watched it two times, but the rest is something I would've never watch again and rather forget about.

The characters I wanted to see the most were Warwick (body horror, The Wrath of Zaun haunting the streets - got just a glimpse of that, but it felt like nothing) and Viktor (cyborgs and cyber gore, misunderstood idealist, Blitzcrank - got basically nothing; the idea was kinda there somewhere, but got changed so much it didn't matter at all).

I can't believe they took a godforsaken champion like Viktor and not only ruined his story completely, but also managed to fuck up everything else by all of a sudden making him a center of all of this mess. The center being the arcane/hextech/magic, which never even gets resolved/explained. Still no idea why it got corrupted and what was the nature of it; the void was never taken anywhere despite being heavily hinted - everything was evil because it was, but luckily the magic of friendship saved us!! (I'll get to that)

Speaking of crucial plotlines that weren't taken anywhere.. Basically every character got screwed over and made empty. Let's use Vi for a quick example (may not actually be the best example, but hopefully you'll get what I mean) - when I saw the pit fighter scene released early, I expected to see it have a continuation in the show, but instead it ended up just being the exact same music video, nothing more. And that goes for some more events - they get compressed into music videos that make it all incredibly hollow. Fight scenes are fine like this, sure, but not something that was supposed to be a bit more emotional and serious. Anyway, they successfully made me hate most of the characters. Either hate or just straight up not recognize them, and in a bad way.

Long story short the pacing is awful (it only gets back to normal in ep7, as it resembles the structure of S1) and the writing sucks ass. I can't for the love of god believe it was written alongside S1. There's no way in hell - it's literally all the worst fan theories I've seen come to life and get mixed with fanservice. *puts on a tinfoil hat* Maybe this is the real why they needed an extra year or two, as S2 was initially supposed to be released earlier. No way in hell the same people who wrote S1 and cared so much about the characters would do anything like this. Riot must've gotten heavily involved, making us believe they cut the story short (I think 5 seasons in Piltover/Zaun were planned initially?) for the benefit of it, but all it really was is greed - let's make a bunch of bullshit happen and quickly move to another region to sell more skins for new champions.

Now let's get back to the ending. Man, it really had it all - the nonsense, the multiverse bullshit which basically makes nothing make sense anymore (if there was anything left), the (yes, I'm going to say it, because that's exactly what I felt) cringe and embarrassment. Never seen anything more hollow trying to convince me it was deep and emotional (sums up the whole show perfectly).

How the hell the only thing that was supposed to save Viktor from himself was Jayce telling him he's perfect the way he is? Sure, don't try to cure your illness (that my city caused, but "fortunately" another crucial part of the plot, which is the sister cities conflict, ceased to exist), it makes you beautiful, this is who you are (miserable, unwanted, feeling meaningless and like a burden, dying). I am at loss of words.

Now buckle up jayvik fans. I wasn't a fan of the ship as I'm not a fan of any ships in general, but now I despise it. I wouldn't mind if they actually went on with it, which no, they didn't. We don't want two men kissing (women making out is fine tho, won't make the gamers too angry), so let's play extra safe to make sure it could be explained as any type of other close bond (and that's exactly what Christian Linke does when asked about it). You disgusting cowards, either you show me this in plain sight and I wouldn't give it a second thought, or don't even try bring it up at all (and you can't deny it wasn't implied in S1 with all the Viktor's looks and parallels to Mel).

Where do I even begin? Because I don't think you have any idea on how many levels it actually sucks. If you read it as romantic it's basically telling me that if I was a gay man struggling with my feelings and not being able to confess for years, because I'm convinced I'm unworthy of love as something is inherently wrong with me, then the best I could get after surviving all this (what honestly seems like hell) is a hug, because you're ashamed of me and thus I should be ashamed of who I am till the very end.

Something equally bad is Jayce finding out (or rather we finding out) how wonderful the world could look like if he let go of his beautiful dream, his life's work, and killed himself - it never gets denied, as the corruption of hextech doesn't get explained.

Long story short, if you're struggling with your mental health, trauma issues, disability or any of the problems the characters you related to deal with, this show spits you in the face.

I could go on forever about everything that's wrong (even Jinx got played dirty), but let's finish with the few things I liked: act 1 was promising (it's when I believed they could still make sense of Viktor), fun Sevika's arcade arm fight, the epic fight at the Janna's temple (Woodkid goat), Jayce killing Salo (I felt something) and Jayce's glitchy madness in general, young Vander flashback (felt something), ep7 and Singed's story (the only one that makes any sense).

Other than that the show left me with nothing but void in my heart (I guess that's when it all went). The saddest thing being the masses love it anyway, as it seems they'll watch anything that's colorful enough. And Riot will make lots of money of off it, because in the end they never loose. I'm not denying Fortiche absolutely outdid themselves with the art, it's just heartbreaking nothing else even remotely stands up to it.

[violetasteracademic]

Rambling thoughts post. Won't delete.

I learned a long time ago to stop commenting on the state of the ship war/ SJM fandom as a whole and asking people to be kinder, and anyone who has followed me for a while (which sounds silly to say since I've only been here since March) has likely witnessed my slow disillusionment of the SJM fandom space. As my therapist said, if you keep trying to clean up debris in someone's house who refuses to fix their roof, you'll drain yourself for nothing. (That was about my ex husband but hey I think it applies here.) I've also realized that in the long run, individual creators don't matter, really. There are too many creators in this space who burn out and disappear and even if it upsets or disappoints people in the moment, there is always someone to replace them. I'm very replaceable. My thoughts really don't matter. But here they are anyway.

The SJM tumblr space is extremely hostile and negative. But it isn't all hostile and negative, and the more I filter out the shipwar content and anti content (seriously, I have filters on anti elriel, anti gwynriel, anti elucien, and shipwar buzzwords like delusional, reading comprehension, touch grass, ECT and thank you to my dear friend @yourstarsmyscars for showing me how much more the filters can do than I realized!) the more free I am to see how many kind and wonderful creators there are on here making cute art and amazing fanfics and nourishing a positive fandom ecosystem.

Again, I don't matter in the long run. I'm not sure how many people even still follow me really since I've stopped engaging in the shipwars beyond art, fics, and kind posts. But I do want to let anyone out there who, like me, has had their tolerance for the ship wars plummet to the core of the earth, break through the crust in the middle of the Pacific ocean, and then drift into space, know that there IS kindness in this fandom beyond the noise. There are people doing great work on all sides, who are welcoming to all, and just trying to create something people will enjoy.

I can't say I'll be here forever, or even much longer. But I feel moved to signal boost the positivity. I also know that, although I do believe I tried very hard to be positive and not insulting the majority of the time, I had days that I let the negativity get to me and I was snarkier than I wish I would have been. I'm truly sorry if I ever made a post that even remotely hurt anyone's feelings or added to the negativity. I'd go back and delete them, but frankly they are my most popular posts and still get reblogged so it feels sort of pointless since reblogs don't get deleted.

Although I am an Elriel in my heart of hearts, I want to continue to be a welcoming space for all. If that means my followers get cut in half or only a few people interact with my posts, that's okay with me. I can't try to patch the roof of the fandom, but I can keep my own space toasty and warm for anyone looking for reprieve, regardless of who you ship. I've stated multiple times here that I'm the only Elriel in my IRL friendships, and I love my friends dearly. I tried to speak to Tumblr as a whole the way I'd speak to them, and I didn't always do that. But the world is too abysmal and scary and a lot of SJM fans come online and struggle to find a space that isn't extremely hostile and negative.

Here's to all the goofy little spooks making art, fics, texts, and transcending the shipwars and just trying to connect over the things we love.

In the words of our Lord and Savior Taylor Swift, I want to be defined by the things I love, not the things I hate.

Also still committed to writing a banger Elain Lucien and Azriel throuple once I get through my laundry list of current fics. Maybe a quadruple with Gwyn. Maybe I'll just write a giant orgy, actually.

[cator99]

please finish your wedding story, i so badly want to hear the rest of it. i await eagerly.

>everyone lived happily ever after

>a few weeks pass

>I write the brides a lengthy and detailed letter of recommendation to their immigration lawyer

>they're overjoyed and think its a beautiful letter, and I'm glad to help because I hope they last forever and get everything they want in life, if I may drop the act and be sincere for a moment

>a few days pass. the bride I've known for over 15 years messages me

>however... she doesn't care. she's on her honeymoon. and I'm just some chick she was friends with as a kid. what does upset her is how she found out.

>at first I assume that the woman who reached out to her (who I knew back in jr high, and is a few years older than me) was just trying to upset her

>bride tells me about how this woman was her best friend and then suddenly blocked her out of nowhere, which was (and is) still very painful for her

>the woman, who we will refer to as "A" whips up a story about being concerned for the bride's safety and privacy or something

>bride is confused. there's no identifying information. the post is a nothingburger to her. what's important here is that she's upset that this woman messaged her after 4 years, not to make things right..... but to talk about "zander"

>right, this is about me, because this is "A" we're talking about here...... hell hath no fury like a closet case scorned

how did she find my blog?

I assume it went like this:

>"A" goes to peek at her ex-bestie's wedding photos

>"Zander" Spotted

>runs to LC

>"hey does anyone remember Zander who I used to post about on here all the time 7 years ago? I may have found an update!"

>"that's terf cator99 who was posted about on the Women Youre Ashamed To Want To Fuck thread you fucking idiot that looks nothing like her"

>no here's proof!

>autism ensues

>several replies get deleted, other responses indicate they're "A" sperging and linking my blog

>people argue if I deserve to be there anymore

>"she's a tif"

>"no"

> yes"

>"no"

>"I used to know her" ["A" posting]

>"tell us more!"

>"she used to have this one pair of glasses and then she had this other pair of glasses that looked really good on her..."

meanwhile:

>assume she's probably back on her LC shit

>find and link bride to the LC thread and explain to her that "A" has just been trolling for fun and to pay it no mind, you're better off without her in your life

>"hey bride-chan, not to be weird but I'm just trying to understand this shit, do you think A ever had a thing for me... I always kind of assumed she was bi or gay when we were younger and thought it was cool that she was androgynous and went to school dressed as Kaito from vocaloid all the time so I wanted to be her friend but she was pretty rude to people and I backed off"

>"well i dont know but she's married to a man now..."

>yet here she is trying to get under the skin of two women who are with other women

to be fair I earned the lolcow title fair and square years ago all on my own, and really do feel I owe "A" a favor for introducing me to the site. it was very formative for me to find out places like that existed right at the moment I was starting to have conflicting thoughts about the trans shit so I could gain some self-awareness (and general awareness overall) (shout out to "A"s friend who cowtipped to me.....)

meanwhile, on LC:

>"well done ladies, we've figured it all out. Butch Lesbian cator99 is currently partying with gay men, and It is common knowledge that "gay men" are all secretly bisexuals who are looking to hook up with women who say things like "I'm a lesbian" and "I am not attracted to males". That is their mating call, in fact. These words activate the Hetero gland in the Amygdala like a sleeper agent who has been biologically programmed– as we all are– to stop the kiki-ing and split off into heterosexual pairings at the end of a poppers-fuelled night assless-twerking to Britney."

>"good work. But I'll one-up you: look at this screenshot."

[photo from an instagram account, featuring a photo of 17 year old Zander's legs in the bath. "I Am Totally Into Epic Awesome Penis Now!!!!!!" (She had never seen a penis)]

>"yes, this is definitely a normal thing for a straight woman to say. I always knew she was a faker."

>"yes. as im sure you're all aware, there are many social and career benefits from pretending to be a lesbian."

>"doesn't that idiot know that she can't just lie and change her orientation? I can't believe she's been straight this whole time."

>"what does she have to gain from lying?"

>"She's so adamant about being a lesbian, which is a dead giveaway for a cover-up operation. The more they resist, the more evident it is that they are lying in order to gain access to that highly lauded Online Lesbian Following, which is something every straight woman wants deep down."

meanwhile:

>call gf

>"bad news. I just found out I'm actually straight."

[hum-suffer]

Saiyaan

Ab baawra hua mann, jag ho gaya hai roshan

Ye nai nai suhaagan ho gai hai teri jogan

Koi Prem ki pujaran, mandir sajaye.

He's everything that I am not. He has friends, connections, acquaintances, and formal partners and whatnot. I am a recluse, staying at the same circle that I've been in, I keep my head down and he keeps his high. He throws his head bad when he laughs, more of a spectacle, and I bow when I laugh, I want to disappear into myself because my laugh is ugly and it must stay hidden but him? Oh, his laugh is the most wonderful thing I've heard.

There's a chance that he's not even aware that I look at him everyday and I notice all his patterns that he claims to not have. The tick in his jaw, the fiddle ring on his hand, red scratches behind his ears, the wristwatch's dial tucked at the inside of his wrist. I know him, I know him like I know myself when I look in the mirror.

And oh, oh, he's so beautiful. The gods would descend from heavens to see him, the Gandharvas would be jealous of the way he dances, the apsaras would be envious of the way his voice curls around my name.

My name. He says my name like it's a reprimand. Like he's scolding me. He says it in warning of his displeasure at me and I stop in my breath to listen to him. He calls me by a nickname. One nickname, two nicknames, three nicknames, four, five, six—

I would tattoo them all on my knuckles, if only I could hear them all in his voice whenever I looked at the tattoos. What do the names matter if they're not said in his tongue?

But the names are not mine, no, no, no, they're not mine alone, they belong to someone else too, they belong to a stranger, they belong to a friend, they belong to a sibling and family and all hope I let grow in my chest like a vine, it all crushes down and breaks into dead grass at my feet.

Another name. My name sounds on his lips like it's just another name that he knows, that he speaks because it's normal, that it is one of many he speaks everyday and something curls around my throat but it isn't his melodious voice.

He's beautiful. Even when he's so casually cruel, he's beautiful. His eyes sparkle, his lips turn down in an apology but that's all this is and I'm choking again and it hurts but maybe I don't mind it particularly. He sees me, he still holds out his hand and, still choking, i accept it.

With him by my side, it's different to see the world that is so bleak, that is so hopeless. I walk alone at a place and my heart races and I'm scared and I know he won't protect me when the bruises on my heart have barely healed but I still clutch my collar and mutter his name as i beg my god for some strength and courage.

There's ink stains on my fingers when we next see eachother and I think it's disgraceful but he doesn't say a word, he only smiles and makes me feel welcome, and he listens and listens and listens and listens as I talk. I struggle not to lean my forehead on his knees and I struggle even more to breathe because I wish to sob but if I do, he will too, and i cannot see him hurt.

I give him a flower, today, tomorrow, yesterday, overmorrow, the day after and the day after and the day after that and forever. I give him a flower everyday and I see his face light up with a smile, a smile which is rare but it isn't mine and it takes him a second to thank me and call me a nickname that he uses for everyone else as well.

[andreabaideas]

@mzannthropy

Seeing your tags in the previous post ("I come across as a hater" one) was the final straw for something that has been eating me for months :

I've been seeing (and many other peoples tags here at Tumblr or Twitter and Instagram opinions, or TikTok) kinda justifying or explaining themselves for liking or disliking things...

And I am so fucking tired of seeing women, ALWAYS, having to defend their things, I wonder why Only women? Never or almost never men, I feel so envious of their self confidence tbh.

No one truly should have to explain themselves. You can like and dislike whatever you want...

Heretics rock!!!!!!!!

I enjoy reading different opinions...I mean I am a fandom war veteran at this point!!! I survived Supernatural drama, TVD drama, The Hunger Games love triangle war....Even the biggest one : Team Edward vs Team Jacob on Twilight fandom for fucks sake!!! XD.

And as a Twilight veteran fan (since 2007) believe me, i've learned to not give a DAMN crap about others opinions on my little beloved things that make me happy ("Twilight suck" , "Its just for Girls", "vampires dont sparkle"....🙄🖕Let me enjoy my shitty problematic beloved saga!!!! ) cause i'm happier like that XD.

On a personal note about you @mzannthropy and to show my example.

I like things similar to you that we share and we speak about, which make me very happy to talk-write about with you (or with other whom i share interests with) like : Sam Claflin, Florence Welch , The count of Montecristo, Agatha Christie, Cats...I even started reading LM Montgomery for curiosity , as i had just read Anne of the Green gables as a teen, i am re reading her now and i'm liking her!!!! I Will read everything I find of her ASAP.

But i also have different tastes to you: I dont hate me before you (I dont like It either Its so so to me like 6/10) , I like Peeta a lot while I dislike Gale with an intensity (Im always going to say that id rather have him dead than Finnick, i'll die on that hill, forever angry at Suzanne Collins) and I fucking love Riley Keough (I know you dislike / hate her).

And what? Does that make me unable to relate to you??

Noooopeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

We just have different tastes and thats okay!! I like /reblog your posts that I like, the ones i dont...i ignore, and that's It. You probably do the same I guess?

I dont get why people make such a fuss! I myself received hate for liking daisily, like... Calm tf down girl , i'm just a (still) young woman reposting photos and gifs?! What harm can i possibly make you with my things??...But i blocked and I moved on. And I bitch about hatefull people like that Sometimes.

Related to the previous Sam post :

I must admit i dont dislike any of Sam's co-stars, I like most or feel neutral tbh. I even made a post with Sam + Chemistry, with my personal list of faves, those Who I didn't post about were neutral to me, fine but not super Special, and I know how you feel about that C word XD...

Believe me I find It cheap myself...but I don't know how explain that to people without that word , in english that's it...In spanish (and french too) there are way better more complex words for romantic / frienship /sexual or mixed complex conections?? English sometimes Its poor compared. We mediterraneans are messier we need those words to figure ourselves out XD.

Conclusion to this long post :

Everyone has right to their opinions and speak for themselves, Thats freedom of speech, if everyone thought the same It would be super boring tbh.

And @mzannthropy You are not a hater you are yourself. Period. Keep posting the way you do, cause Its very you , and It makes It very cool :)

Looooong pooost aaagaaaiin.

Sam Claflin and Holliday Grainger in ‘Any Human Heart’ (2010)  

[reverieblondie]

Rolan x Tav prompt: Rolan (and maybe his siblings, too) meets Tav's family, who thought Tav was dead after being abducted by the mind flayers, only for Tav's family to react... poorly to one of their own being with 'one of those devil spawns'. What if after a moment of shock, his lover absolutely tears into their family—I'm talking 'How dare you!', maybe Tav even smacks one of their family members in the face first, ending with something like 'If I'd known I was related to such disgusting people, then I'd have saved us all some trouble and let you continue to think I was dead!'—before storming away, their hand in Rolan's, as they murmur apology after apology to him about what just happened and ask if he is okay?

So I have been sitting on this one forever! I keep starting it but just can not get the story right so I will do a quick drabble for the ending. I love this this prompt! and I can totally see this happening to a Tav who has been estranged to their family. Maybe one of the reasons they were in a position to get abducted was because they were leaving their family home for something better.

I think the only reason Tav would go to this thing was because of Rolan suggesting it might be good to see her family again, get closer about everything. Rolan offers to go with her for moral support (like a good partner would) Of course her family are asses from the start talking about how famous Tav is now and how much money they must be making... but Tav and Rolan are just trying to ignore these rude questions and their not so sublet subjections for help... Tav is obviously not wanting to help them after everything and her family has some things to say about that...

"You disappear for a year and your some fancy hero and you can't even help your family? What have you even been doing all this time? shacking up with some...hellspawn?"

Now insult Tav all you want but go after Rolan? Hells no.

"And what of it? Rolan is my partner."

That's when Tavs aunt speaks up, "Your a fool girl, those soulless imps will take you for what your worth then throw you out."

Tav is about to slap her aunt but before she can her hand is caught by Rolan. Tav looks at Rolans solemn face and that's when the tears well up.

Tav holds the tears in as much as he can as he looks at those people who dare to call themselves her family. "You are the soulless ones... Rolan and his family have been more of a family to me than any of you ever were... Consider me dead, because you all are dead to me."

With that Tav storms out with Rolans hands tightly in hers, they walk in a fast pace heading towards their home and Tav is fighting the tears trying to fall from her eyes and Rolan keeps trying to call for her to slow down. Finally Tav stops and spins around hugging Rolan so tightly it threatens to knock the air out of his lungs.

"I am, I am so sorry... I didn't know they... I'm so sorry for what they said. Please know that I didn't think they would say that. They are terr-"

Rolan finally places his hand to Tavs Rambling lips before wiping her tears. "I'm the one whose sorry... I told you to go visit them.. and what they said... I've been ridiculed my whole life, but for them to ridicule you is something I can never forgive."

Tav and Rolan share in a tearful embrace, both of them trying so hard to reinsure if the other is okay.

I later imagine when they get engage its a huge story in the Baldurs Gate paper. Its not out of spite... but if they happen to see it and feel like idiots than thats okay too.

[theloveoffootball10]

sᴛɪᴄᴋᴡɪᴛᴜ - ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ʀ ᴇ ᴇ

m a s t e r l i s t

ᴛ ʜ ɪ ʀ ᴛ ʏ ᴛ ʜ ʀ ᴇ ᴇ

The hours pass painfully slow, I'm almost convinced I've pushed Lando too far away and now he wants nothing to do with me. I know the hospital will be keeping him for observations for a few hours but I did think he would have called me by now. I know I've made him wait weeks to speak to him but I had my reasons. Stepping into the red hot shower I let the water cascade over my body as I come to terms with the crash. I know Lando is okay but seeing him crash the way he did is something I'll never forget, I might have been angry and upset lately but that hasn't stopped me loving him, it doesn't mean I want to see him hurt. Panicking as I hear my phone start to ring I dive out of the shower attempting to wrap the towel around me without falling as I answer the call.

"Adam? Hello! I'm here!" I practically scream into the phone as I nearly miss the call from Adam.  

"It's me. Not my dad" Lando's voice is quiet and soft but it doesn't stop the gasp escaping my lips. I know I asked Adam to ask Lando to phone me but I'm kind of shocked he actually has phoned.

"Hi" I don't know what to say. I thought I knew what I had to say to Lando but now he's on the other end of the phone I'm lost for words.

"My dad said he spoke to you after the crash and you wanted me to call you"

"Yeah I did ask him. I thought it was him phoning again" it feels awkward talking to Lando, something I never thought would happen.

"My phone is still in my drivers room or it could be at the hotel now. I did think you might have my number blocked to be honest with you Lucía" I can't lie, it did cross my mind to completely block Lando everywhere but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

"I thought about it but I go through with it. Look Lando I know you didn't expect to hear from me and I have no right to ask for you to call but I just had to hear your voice for myself to know you're okay" hearing Lando at the other end of the phone fills me with so much relief, he might have had to go to hospital but I'm grateful it was nothing too serious.

"I've been hoping every single day that you'd get in touch. I'm okay Lucía, more than okay now I'm speaking to you. I'll be in pain for a few days but it's nothing I can't live through"

"I'm so pleased you're okay Lando" sitting on my bed wrapped in my towel I can't help myself. I start to cry for the second time this morning "I was so scared when you crashed I didn't know what to do. I felt so helpless that I wasn't there. I really thought I was going to lose you in that moment when your car just didn't stop"

"Don't cry baby. I'm made of strong stuff, I'm absolutely fine. I don't want you to worry about me" I don't correct Lando when he calls me baby, truthfully I've missed it. It takes me back to when everything was okay between us.

"I worry every single time that you get in the car. It might be cliché but it made me realise life is too short and nothing is promised, I'm ready to listen to you if you still want to talk" the thought of losing Lando forever absolutely terrifies me. If we don't work out as a couple I would love to still have him in my life in some way or other.

"I want nothing more than to talk to you and explain everything. You deserve the full truth and I'll do it in your time Lucía"

"I know it's in a couple of weeks but can we meet up in Abu Dhabi to talk? I’d rather sit down to talk to you in person about this" I feel like this is a conversation we need to have in person as tough as it might be.

"You're still going?"

"I go every year. I'm not going to change that because of what happened with us. I'll be in the garage with my dad as planned but I'd like to see you one day if you have time" I know race weekends are hectic and I know Lando will be busy but I'd like to think we can see each other for a bit.

"Lucía even if I didn't have time, I'd make time for you. The doctor is coming to see me, can I text you later when I have my phone back?" Lando asks and I think he's unsure of what my response might be.

"Yeah I'd like that Lando" I say my goodbyes to Lando letting him go and speak to the doctor. I feel like I've had a weight lifted off my chest now I've heard his voice. Seeing my mum walk into my room I know by the look on her face she knows I've spoken to Lando "so do you think I'm stupid for needing to hear his voice today and wanting to talk to him?"

"No I don't think you're stupid. I think you're a girl in love with a man who made a stupid mistake but from what I can see, he's trying to put things right" I really need to hear Lando's version of events before I can make my mind up but I can't deny how nice it was to hear his voice "at the end of the day this is your decision to make. No one can decide these things for you"

esmelucia

Liked by user833, landonorris, and 28,017 others

esmelucia smiling 'cause I'm about to get some winter sun! Last one of the season, Abu Dhabi LFG 🇦🇪

View all comments

user682 first race since Austin and Lando back liking posts does this mean Luando is back on?!

↪️ user399 I'm praying they are! Lando has been so down lately without Lucía

↪️ user928 no one said they broke up

↪️ user682 they didn't need to say it, it was obvious

user953 she's going to Lando's last race of the season I could cry 😭

↪️ user843 she's going for her dad. All you need to do is check her previous posts to see it's a yearly father / daughter trip. She'll be wearing Aston Martin this weekend 100%!

abswilson your comments are wild lol. Miss you already fucker!

↪️ esmelucia I know but entertaining! Miss you my slag!

daniellemitch winter sun ain't all you're going to be getting 🍆💦🐱

↪️ esmelucia okayyy bye. I'm leaving. On a jet plane. Plz don't text 🛎️🔚

I arrive in Abu Dhabi on the Tuesday night, I’m planning to meet Lando Wednesday and my dad has already arrived from Qatar. It’s nice to be back somewhere that always feels so familiar. As long as I can remember I’ve made the effort to be at the last race of the season, even back when I wasn’t old enough to travel alone my mum would always come with me.

Wednesday afternoon comes around all too quickly now I’m stood in my room with a glass of wine following lunch with my dad. I’ve decided it’s best to meet Lando in my room away from any prying eyes or walls with ears. What needs to be said is between us however I don’t feel any less nervous than I would if I was meeting him somewhere public.

Hearing a knock on my door I take a deep breath as I open it to Lando stood in front of me for the first time in weeks. He looks as exhausted as I’ve felt lately. His usually tanned skin is pale, his eyes are sunken and the bags under his eyes are purple. He looks like he hasn’t had a decent night sleep for months.

“Come in” I say opening the door feeling slightly awkward “can I get you a drink or anything?”

“No thank you. You look good Lucía our break up must have done you good” the tone in Lando’s voice tells me he’s not trying to be condescending, he sounds devastated.

“Thank you but we both know it’s a spray tan. I knew cameras would be on me this week so I prepared for it. It’s been the worst couple of weeks I could’ve ever imagined since Austin” sitting on the couch I pull my knees up to my chest resting my chin on them.

“I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through Lucía. You were the last person I ever wanted to hurt” gesturing towards the other side of the couch I invite Lando to sit down so we can talk.

"This is harder than I thought it would be" I say running my finger around the rim of the wine glass in front of me. I don't want to be drunk when Lando and I talk but I need the one for liquid courage "if we're ever going to move on from what happened I need the truth Lando. No matter how much it might hurt for me to hear it, I want to know everything" I say to Lando. I want to forgive him, I love him but I need the truth, nothing sugarcoated just the truth.

"She had photos of you and Lewis hugging in the paddock and showed them to me. I wasn't bothered by the photos, I know the kind of relationship you have with him but she said she had a friend who was waiting to write an article. An article about you and Lewis"

"I'm confused where this is going. There is no story to write. There has never been a me and Lewis, never has been and never will be. He's like an uncle to me or really annoying older brother" there's nothing to write about me and Lewis, anything they could write would make for a boring read. He's my dad's friend and I have known him forever, there's no more to it.

"We both know that and I tried to explain that to her but the friend was spinning the story in a different direction. They were basically fabricating a story to say you've been in a relationship with Lewis on and off over the years despite the age difference and Lewis knowing you since you were a literal child"

"Okay so what I'm taking from this is that she has basically blackmailed you over a non-story?"

"She said if I kissed her she'd keep everything to herself and not pass anything to her friend. I thought I was protecting you from the fall out of a Lewis story and it turns out I was the one who hurt you most"

"Lando now I'm thinking with a clear head I know where you were coming from. I wish you just told me but I think I understand. We know none of it is true but if she started to spread rumours that I've been with Lewis then I know I'd get called all kinds of names and I dread to think what they'd do to Lewis. He's fifteen years older than me and I've know him since I was probably five years old" squeezing Lando's hand across the couch I know he did this for me "one more question, why did you not just tell me?"

"It happened so quick I didn't have time to process it. My only thought was protecting you" lacing my fingers with Lando's I squeeze his hand tight. All of this could have been avoided.

"Just so you know I'm going to knock her clean out when I see her smug face"

"I wouldn't expect anything else. Can you make sure I'm there to watch when you do? That was some slap you gave me and I'd like to see it happen to someone else rather than being on the receiving end"

"I'm so sorry about that. I saw red and lost control but you did kind of deserve it" I still can't believe I slapped Lando. I don’t think I’ll ever get over it.

“I fully deserved it. I had the lasting imprint of your hand for a few hours” Lando says with a laugh and I know he’s not mad at me for slapping him.

“Lando? Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything Lucía. I’m an open book for you”

“Can I give you a cuddle? I saw what you said about not sleeping for 2 days after Brazil and it broke my heart. It made me wish I could’ve been in Monaco with you” after watching the Las Vegas Grand Prix and speaking to Lando I decided to watch the highlights of the races I’d missed. Seeing the way Lando has spoken about himself lately is awful to see as someone who cares so deeply for him.

“Yeah you can. You don’t need to ask. It wasn’t just the race that had me not sleeping. It was both championships but most of all it was knowing I’d truly messed up with you” turning my full body on the couch to face Lando I move closer to him. It feels foreign to be so close to him but at the same time it’s so familiar.

I pull Lando into me his arms instantly wrapping around my waist tightly and his head finding the crook of my neck. I wrap one arm around Lando rubbing gentle circles on his back, the other cradling his head as I run my fingers through his curls. I don’t know how long we sit in this position but I feel Lando’s tears on my neck and hold him tighter. This is a man who loves with his whole heart but gets into his own head that he isn’t good enough when in reality he is good enough, in fact he’s more than good enough. I’ve never known anyone like him.

“I love you Lucía. I know I’ve hurt you but I need you to know I love you” Lando says into my neck not lifting his head.

“I know Lando and I love you too. So much you have no idea. I never stopped loving you and I don’t think I ever will” as Lando lifts his head to look at me I gently wipe the stray tears from under his eyes with the pad of my thumb.

“I really needed that cuddle. Thank you”

“You don’t need to thank me. Just remember whenever you’re feeling down or need to talk I’m here” whether I’m in a relationship with Lando or not, I always want him to know I’m here for him.

“Where does this leave us? Could there still be an us or have I royally fucked that part of my life up?”

“Stop being so hard on yourself Lando. I’ll be honest I don’t know where this leaves us. I need some time to think but I’m not writing anything off yet” I don’t want to say yes to still being with Lando straight away. I know it’s inevitable I’ll end up back with him but I need to process what he’s told me.

“That’s all I ask Lucía. I want to prove myself to you. I’m going to head back, I’ve got a training session with Jon and you know he’ll kill me if I don’t go. Thank you for listening to me” before I get the chance to mumble something other than a quick goodbye Lando kisses the top of my head leaving me stood in the middle of the room as he heads to training. I feel so much better having now seen Lando in person but knowing this all stemmed from one person leaves me no other option. I have to confront the bitch.

[biff-adventurer]

today i met tiny chris

poor wean's da got et by a 'bon. now he wants 'em all dead. wiv' crossy eyes like them as drawed in the picture shows. dinnae get et and ye might be his new da.

he actually made me think about two things - the npcs/people we've helped along the way, and the writing of accents.

it's no secret i gave biff this accent - it tells you he ain't a city slicker but rather a rural boy, it tells you his folks ain't got a lotta money (at least, one would think), and it associates him with a specific cultural/ethnic profile (gaelic, i know/studied a little more about irish than scots so i lean irish)

i think we should, as a society, be wary of continuing to associate class with specific ethnic communities, but i'm not learned enough to make a post dedicated to my specific thoughts on that (yet? tbd)

mostly, i think it's important to look at the way characters speak as a vehicle of writing. when you write a character's accent, is it useful for what you're trying to establish in the scene? is the noble supposed to fail to understand the vernacular of his server? is it useful if the character is always going to say "dinnae" instead of "do not"? when dealing with non-western characters with accents, how far is it okay to go until the dialogue goes from representation to racist charicature?

writers have the power of flexibility. writing is about persuasion more than anything else, and we should remember to persuade our audiences that these are people. they aren't real, so don't bother with "realistic" - but they represent real ideas, concepts and associations in our world. it's important to be careful what you do with these, intended or not! and if you make an oopsie? acknowledge, accept and continue on your journey to being your best.

my preferences for writing accents based on my experiences, observations and education lean thus:

pick and choose what words require emphasis. if the whole sentence requires it, then so be it! but make conscious choices. words weigh differently, and they carry double the weight when they're written out to represent an accent. just really think about whether or not this is the point you want to say to, t', ta, or tae. the whole sentence doesn't need to be written out phonetically b/c avoiding doing that helps us steer clear of reiterating caricatures.

include culturally specific verbiage. "what's the craic" or "how's it hangin'" depending on who your character is. in india, lots of people greet each other with religious phrases (in english, it'd sound like saying "god is good"/"good is god" call and response) - so a thavnairian character could say anything between "sisters be with you" to "mindhurva guide your path today" (and also yours, brother/sister). but also: wain, wean, child, sweetling,

be careful which non-english words your character uses. i don't call it chai tea latte, i call it chai latte. my wife doesn't call it green tea latte, but matcha latte. i actually don't drink chai latte, i drink chai. but i call it both chai and tea interchangeably; so, when i want someone to know how to prepare my tea, i might ask for chai instead of tea. because with chai, you get half or whole base milk instead of water. you get dried ginger or an array of spices depending on the auntie. with tea, you get dried up leaves and some hot water. big difference for me.

above all, make sure it's legible most of the time. you can do this by avoiding writing a character's accent out completely phonetically. this isn't to say "conform your character to what people think they should talk like". this is about being aware that writing implies an audience. if you want your writing to connect with people, the important parts should be clearly communicated in the text. especially if you're writing in english. if i wanted my characters to speak hindi, why would i bother writing the story in english at all? you want people to see your character a specific way. write them the way you hope they'll be seen--if you've done a good enough job, it will lead to so much joy and satisfaction. if you haven't--it's back to the drawing board! but you get the chance to learn even more.

[lunacias]

these are the silt verses, and I name our disciples thus

[destinywillowleaf]

one of a kind living in a world gone plastic

baby you're so classic

@most-tragic-character-tournament

(all my thoughts in the tags)

[bacchuschucklefuck]

Can you expand on what you mean by Baron being "too cool" to really fit a horror monster? It's a very interesting concept and I'd love to hear your thoughts. Is it that they're too active/involved/tangible and it detracts from their scariness?

I feel like I should preface this with a wall of disclaimers lmao 1/I am a hardcore, down-to-the-marrow, avid, deeply sincere horror enthusiast, esp. horror creatures. this usually means my mileage is vastly different from the average populace's, and my scaredy bone has been disintegrated by longterm exposure. most things in a piece of horror media won't scare me! so I practically never use that on its own as the scale to talk abt horror experiences, but when something does scare me it's always a special occasion to be treasured. 2/canon d20 is never really meant to be horror horror, and for good reasons: it doesn't fit the company's output, it takes a kind of carelessness in production estimation that is always a huge risk, it's often vulnerable in a way that kinda goes against how TTRPGs usually facilitates vulnerability, and for most people it's just! stressful! d20, even with the "horror-themed" seasons, generally just plays with horror tropes and stays focused in its goal of being a comedy improv tabletop theater show. 3/fantasy high's chosen system is DnD, which as I've mentioned before is before all a combat-based game system, which means the magic circle of play is drawn based on stats that facilitate and prioritize combat. want or not this affects every interaction you have in the game, and given fantasy high's concept from the ground up (everyone's going to school of DnD stuff to get better at DnD) it's doubly relevant. 4/This Is Fine I have no quarrel with this. my meters are internal, I do not ask this show to be anything it doesn't advertise itself to be, and what it is is fucking great! I like it! when I expand on this ask's question it will be like a physicist going insane in a lab. that's the mindset we're going in with.

disclaimers done. my stance on horror as a genre is that it's a utility genre rather than a content genre or a demographic genre; it is the discard of narratives. it's the trash pile. horror, above being scary, is about being ugly and messy, it's the cracks on the ground any story inevitably steps over to stay a genre that isn't horror. the genre's been around long enough to develop a codex and a general language that medias and makers and enthusiasts of the genre can use to talk about and build onto, but if you go into individual pieces there's really no unifying Horror Story. one person's beautiful life can be another's horror story, it's just how it is.

this makes The Monster a deeply intriguing piece of the genre. thing is a monster is in a decent percentage of any story - it's just when the antagonist force steps into something past a certain line traced out in the story's world. monstrousness is in pretty much every western fantasy story, it's in any story with a hero and something to vanquish or win; more than anything it's a proxy of that thing up there. the line in a narrative's world. the monster is the guard of the unknown lands, where heroic, civilized people don't tread.

what does this mean in the context of horror? the genre is about that perceived lawlessness, that "unknown land" so to say. we're in the monster's home. that's the literary context that we often walk into a horror piece with; the monster knows more than you about where you are. it may not understand you, but it holds more information than you, and with that it moves swifter than you, has more covered than you, and is more assured in its existence in this context than you. it's a struggle to catch up to it, it's nigh impossible to get one over it, and you're never sure it'll 100% work, because you just don't have the information necessary to.

with that framing you can kinda see where I'm coming from here: horror's often about the breaking of rules. I always think a monster's most effective when it breaks well-established rules of both existence and visual storytelling. think Possum (2018) or Undertale's Omega Flowey or the Xenomorph Queen - unique change in medium, unique change in graphic, unique change in design language, etc. in that sense I actually really like how canon baron plays out: they don't really function like anything else in the fantasy high universe, the bad kids have not managed to kill them when they've felled literal gods, their domain in fhjy literally introduces new mechanics to encompass their existence! from an experience design standpoint they slap mad shit. BUT! I can't help finding their character, like as a character riz (and the other bad kids, eventually) interact with, to be very... coherent? in design. this is kinda hard for me to articulate in words, it's more often a sense you get once you've looked at enough of these scrumptious fuckers, their general design and the way they show up is just kinda too clean, so to say. always kinda newly made? fresh unboxed. it, once again, makes sense for their lore - they are looking for more about themself from riz - and their function - they're an antagonist in a game experience, they're meant to be interacted with in a way that produces results and meshes with the existing magic circle - but that shininess takes away from the implied history they should have dominion over and the person they're haunting doesn't.

from another angle there is kinda something there about how put-together canon baron is as a concept; the domain they call home is riz's deep-seeded fears, extremely vulnerable things he's drawn borders around to quarantine and refused to walk into. things that from his perspective would irreversibly shatter certain pleasant fictions his world is built on top of. canon baron, While Extremely Cool, I feel is kinda too neat to connect with and signify the apocalyticized mess that'd result from this paradigm shift. the part where they're in riz's briefcase and looking through every mirror is Very Cool And Fucked Up! but ultimately the show draws a line around them as well, by making game-physical, tangible spaces they're in (the mirrors and the haunted mordred manor) and put riz and the bad kids there only when they need to confront stuff. riz is meaningfully narratively away from baron's unknown land for most of fantasy high.

with that and all of my disclaimers in mind my conclusion here is if canon baron wants to be a Horror Monster they'd have to cross way more lines. be a Lot more invasive. hence (holds up my class swap baron like a long cat)

[knightkaito1412]

Ta da! It's not a whole set of doodles, but this ink drawing of Goku doing a spirit bomb certainly took the whole page! It was so much fun to draw Goku again, and I had a blast doing the inking this time! I even felt more confident in using my brush pens. ☺️🧡🐲

[Ramble just below cut if you want to read...]

I remember that when I was a young teen, I wanted to learn to draw because I loved the anime Dragon Ball Z so much. So, I found an old promotional poster for the DBZ DVD collection of Goku doing the Kamehameha on a random movie and painstakingly taking hours to get it right in a very crumbled lined paper.

So, with Daima airing, I just had to draw Goku once more as seeing him in anime again brought back so many good memories of my childhood. That's why, although it's a little late, I'm glad to pay my respects to Akira Toriyama by drawing Goku cause he not only inspired me to draw, but his character has always served as a role model for me while growing up.

I am very happy that I drew Goku as it almost felt like I was greeting my dear and precious friend after a long time... <3

[carefulfears]

we've talked a bit before about how obsessive scully is, that she's a zealot. and i was thinking about this when i posted about signs & wonders. it's how i think about her with mulder — specifically the idea that mulder is a (her) prophet, the way her faith shifts to him. she follows him, protects him, believes (in) him. the way that, in the show, he's objectively right so she's right to take his side. it's reinforced even as they're "punished" for it. is this what you mean or maybe something else i haven't really considered?? what scenes/episodes do you think this plays out most? (as always, love anything you have to say especially about scully <3)

yeah that's basically what i've been thinking about...but like, when you posted about signs & wonders, this was the ending dialogue that you shared:

Mulder: If this was some sort of test looks like I failed. Scully: I'd say if it was, you passed with flying colors. You're alive, aren't you?

and i think it gets bypassed a lot of the time how reductive "believer/skeptic" is, in that these are roles that they play but often not really who they are. mulder isn't actually a believer, per se. he's trying to be, and it's extremely fragile and difficult ("you think believing is easy?"). scully is a natural devotee. she's catholic, born and bred, and feels most defined in faith. not just a belief: a completeness, a trust, a reliance. "based on spiritual apprehension rather than proof." (dictionary definition)

it's been addressed throughout the series, that despite her job as the skeptic, the one demanding evidence, she does not feel the need to prove what she believes in. she tells him that she believes in miracles, even if they can't be witnessed. when he asks what she would do to prove the existence of god, she says that she doesn't think about it. she doesn't think it can be proven. believing isn't difficult for her, isn't fragile, isn't frantic.

but "zealot" means "uncompromising," someone who fanatically pursues their beliefs and convictions. and it isn't belief in god, or dedication to the mission, that scully is violently committed to. signs & wonders is a religion-based episode, where they don't catch the killer. he safely moves to a new city to continue his work. but scully sits in “blessing, tennessee” and calls it a win, simply because she can say anything to him at all.

(collateral damage by audries: "he tells her he loves her, and she thinks someday she’ll tell him that the rest of the world is collateral damage. she’ll tell him that her prayers are selfish and that she is not the saint he thought, the savior he expected. she thinks she’d destroy the world for him, rather than save it, if it came to that...they’d wanted her to love the whole damn world, but she won’t. she wants it all narrowed down to one man in a dim basement and the way he falls asleep with his head in her lap, his restless hands and warm insistence and the way his coat gets darker and darker as he leaves her behind.")

it isn't steady, rational, commitment to her god or her family or her country ("i left behind a career in medicine to become an FBI agent four years ago because I believed in this country"), that she gives her last rights to on her deathbed. that she froze for in the artic, that she inked into her skin. it isn't to save the world that she gives up her child. her job. her home. her identity. and runs.

people tend to think of mulder as obsessive and myopic and that's true, it's hard to always be seeking. to always be following is terrifying.

[dawnthefluffyduck]

Sunday doodles