#this got long whOOPS

[prince-simon]

holaa

curious fun question(s) to hopefully make you smile after so many when is the next chap out and are you still alive or have you already joined the holy god of gay? preguntas lol

what were wilmon doing (or not doing) when they spend the night at zarzuela after simon's attackers were caught while relearning each other ? (since the (physical) description is both vague and super detailed wtf?? haha) any unkown spicy or thoughtful thoughts you wanna share abt it? was the scene planned early on? what was changed in the process? and why? thinking back, how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? do you think this evening/night at simon's childhood room was fundamental in their healing and simon's trust in physical touch? could the awful situation have their love ripped apart (since wille was worried it'd not be as 'before') or was it always sure they get out of it together and in more or less one piece? is simon now wille's sunflower or his heather? ;)

mucho amor och churros to you <33

hiiii let's ignore that this ask has been sitting in my inbox for so long pls thank you for this ask i'm obsessed with it and it did make me smile when you sent it and it's also making me smile now but also pain!!!! bc it made me reread that specific scene. i've also dug around in my beta readers server for thought processes around this scene so hopefully this is gonna be somewhat coherent lmfao

was the scene planned early on? it really wasn't at all. and it actually was supposed to be a smut scene in the beginning haha i told my beta readers, yo, i think we're gonna have some coping smut and then over the course of a week (how crazy is it that that's 2 1/2 years ago now!!!) i wrote this scene

what were (or weren't) they doing? what was changed in the process and why) as it developed i got to a point where it just didn't feel right to show them having sex because it was such an intimate moment for them that even just writing it i felt like an intruder. i said to my beta readers at some point that wilmon can have sex off screen so i think it's very much up to reader interpretation at this point. but "on screen", in the chapter, they were really just touching each other and coming back into their own bodies and to each other

how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? it was. a lot. to put it simply haha. i mean generally speaking the entirety of chapters 10-12 were the hardest thing i've ever written, emotionally speaking. i think this little screenshot was me in the middle of that scene lol: and this one was after i'd just finished the scene (and the chapter): was the scene planned early on? it really wasn't at all. and it actually was supposed to be a smut scene in the beginning haha i told my beta readers, yo, i think we're gonna have some coping smut and then over the course of a week (how crazy is it that that's 2 1/2 years ago now!!!) i wrote this scene

what were (or weren't) they doing? what was changed in the process and why) as it developed i got to a point where it just didn't feel right to show them having sex because it was such an intimate moment for them that even just writing it i felt like an intruder. i said to my beta readers at some point that wilmon can have sex off screen so i think it's very much up to reader interpretation at this point. but "on screen", in the chapter, they were really just touching each other and coming back into their own bodies and to each other

how was it for you to write it in the middle of sm pain going on plotwise? did it mess with you? it was. a lot. to put it simply haha. i mean generally speaking the entirety of chapters 10-12 were the hardest thing i've ever written, emotionally speaking. these two screenshots were from in the middle of writing that scene and after i'd just finished it (and the chapter):

so yeah it definitely messed with me. i can't say how long in total it took me to write chapter 10 but i do remember having to actively take a day or two off writing in between and implementing some serious self care to make sure my own mental health wasn't completely plummeting. i think it was definitely good that i had my beta reader team behind me to suffer through it with me but also to help me cope and distract myself with silly things so shout out to them always!

was that night fundamental to their healing/simon's trust in touch? i think after the hell they've been through over the past couple days, they definitely needed that moment to remind themselves that they're still alive and that they had each other. so i guess, yes it definitely was fundamental to the healing journey going onwards. i think they needed it to be able to keep going bc we know that chapter 11 was a whole other shitshow but i think without that intimate moment, everything would've been even more fragile

could the situation have ripped them apart? i think if wille hadn't learned to love and respect himself and his own boundaries as well, it would've been hard for them to meet on common ground again, and if they'd stayed together it would've turned so toxic. but because they both learned and grew, they managed to push through (but in any scenario, i think they would've fought for their lives to stay together)

is simon wille's sunflower or heather? heather :)

thank you thank you thank you for this ask i had so much fun answering it and diving into that scene again! hope i wasn't rambling too much and you're satisfied with the answers hahah! <33

[wasyago]

Do you have any advice for someone who isn’t an art clout chaser but more just wants ppl to see their art?

i mean, i don't know, i just post things that i enjoy making and people who like it stick around, umm

but i guess if you're asking for advice specifically there are some things that might help? not in any particular order.

have a specific tag for your art that is either obvious or easy to find, in your bio or pinned for example. most artists use "my art" tag, some artists have unique tags, id's say if its easy to understand that this tag leads to specifically things that you've drawn - its good. its hard to find all your art among the reblogs, so having an easy path to it is helpful!

speaking of tags, use fandom and character tags if you're drawing for a fandom! that's like, the main way people can first learn of you - if they check their favorite character's tag and see your art there! i don't post original work so idk what tags to use there, but if you need it you can do some research and find out.

have a signature with the name of your blog or account on your art. please. for when someone saves your art and wants to find your acc later, or when someone shows it to their friend and they're interested enough to find you, or when someone forgets your url, or anything. please sign your art!!!!!!! as someone who loves saving pictures and looking at them later, im begging you, its impossible to find you when you don't sign your art.

don't be mean to yourself in the captions under your art. i know its enticing to say "a shitty doodle haha" or "this drawing sucks but im posting it anyway", but please don't. for yourself first of all, be kind to yourself, this is art, not a test. and for others as well, because when people see that the artist is downing on themselves - they don't want to engage with that and are less likely to reblog your art. by saying something mean you invite people to feel the same. (i myself struggle with this by saying criticisms in my tags, but im trying to deal with it)

kind of on the same topic, don't try to gaslight or pressure people into reblogging your art either. don't say things like "reblog this or you're not a good person ^_^" or "if you don't reblog you hate art". just like. no.

umm, make your art look presentable in the post. i don't have any structural advice on how to do this, just uh. comes with practice i guess, figuring out when a drawing is better to post on its own, when it's better to have a lot of small things together, when its better to have a drawing big and clear or have multiple in a row for people to click on, etc. depends on the context and your style and stuff so, try things?

i guess customize your blog to where it's fitting you and your style? this is definitely more of a personal preference than advice. i like it when a blog is easy and pleasing to look at and doesn't hurt my eyes, bright colors and eyestrains are very hard to look at for long and if they're everywhere - this is definitely not a page im gonna stay on for longer than 3 seconds. again, personal preference, and this is more of a "know your audience" type of deal.

and just. enjoy what you're doing? have fun and post things that you like and resonate with? find your own way of doing things and posting? be yourself? remember that this is tumblr and we're all just sharing our interests and thoughts and we're all just people here? yea

[i-eat-worlds]

Whumpcember Day 9 (Alt. 8, Tears)

@whumpcember

Phoenix and Aaron belong to @pigeonwhumps

cw: graphic depictions of injuries, medical procedures, blood, ongoing abuse, medical neglect, caretaking, fear of punishment, hospital setting

Phoenix was a mess.

Aaron had warned him about it before he went in, as well as apologizing for not being able to help more. Apparently, they’d been injured along with Abbie during a mission. Abbie’s injuries, however, were more severe. He’d have to heal her, which means he couldn’t take care of them. Halving a stranger treat them wouldn’t make things better.

Oh, and they’d put Phoenix in the room directly next to hers. That wasn’t helping either.

Joseph hadn’t been exactly expecting good things when he entered the room, but it was still much worse than he’d anticipated.

Phoenix wasn’t even on the exam table. Instead they were curled up in the far corner of the room, knees protecting their belly and arms raised to cover their head. Their camouflage was shorting out, covering their skin with bright flashes of color and odd shapes. Broken sobs occasionally escaped from the pile of limbs, but they were immediately cut off. The poor kid was trying to keep as quiet as possible. And the cherry on top? The blood from the injury on their thigh, which soaked their uniform and was smeared on the floor from them dragging themselves to the corner.

He grabbed a pair of gloves from the wall and started pulling them on while he crouched down in front of them. “Hey, Phoenix, I’m Joseph, I’m here to help you, alright?”

They didn’t seem to register the words at all. “Please, please, I’m sorry,” they blabbered. “Don’t tell Abbie, please, don’t let her know, I’m sorry, I promise, sir. Please.”

“I won’t tell her,” he said, keeping his tone relaxed. “I just wanna help you.”

“If she…If she sees me like this, she’ll…she’ll-” Their words were cut off by several panicked gasps. “Please…’m sorry.” They broke down into hiccuping sobs.

“I believe that you’re sorry, and I’m not going to…punish…you.” God, that felt wrong to say. “Aaron asked me to come help you. He’s worried about the injury on your leg.”

More fear filled their face at the mention of their injury. “I’m sorry, please, sir. I know it’s an inconvenience. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I can handle it on my own,” they sniffled, eyes brimming with tears. “Please. I know my place. I won’t waste. I won't. Please.”

Joseph kept silent for a second, trying to formulate a response. Their wound was still bleeding, and pretty badly at that. He needed to get them somewhere better than the floor. “I know it’s scary, but can you trust me, just for a little bit? I’m not going to hurt you.”

They waited for a second, then nodded tearfully, breaths still shaky. “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, I’m gonna have to touch you for this. Is that okay?”

Phoenix nodded again, lowering their arms. “Yes, sir,” they repeated.

“I know you can’t really stand right now, so I’m going to help get over to the exam table. That cool?” He smiled, placing a hand on their knee.

“Yes, sir.” They started to unfurl a little bit.

“So, first, I’m gonna put my arms around you, and then lift you up. You can use your good leg to help. It’s completely okay if you need to lean on me for support while I help you onto the exam table.”

He started to extend his arms towards them, moving slowly so that they wouldn’t get scared. Carefully, he snaked them behind Phoenix’s body and under their arms. “Can you put your arms on my shoulders?” They complied, far too quickly for comfort. “I’m gonna lift now. Just as a warning, it might hurt.”

It was worryingly easy to hoist them off the ground. Just as he expected, they immediately collapsed into his chest, leg unable to support their own weight. “‘m sorry,” they whimpered.

“You’re alright,” he comforted, using his arms to support them. “I’m going to get you up on the table now.” He lowered his arms so he could lift them onto the table.

Phoenix sniffled when he set them down, legs dangling. “Can you lay down for me?” Joseph asked. “You’re doing great.”

Even though they still looked absolutely terrified, they did look a little less uncomfortable now that they were laying down. “Thank…Thank you, sir,”

“You’re welcome.” The process of moving them had left blood smears all over his scrubs, and there were several spots on his arms as well. “I’m gonna look at your wound now, okay?”

This sent them spiraling again. “You…you don’t need to do that. It’ll heal. I don’t wanna be a waste. If she…if she found out-” their eyes wandered over to the wall that separated the room. She was right next door, and they knew it. “-it’d be bad. I’ll heal, sir. I promise I’ll heal.”

Joseph took a moment to collect himself. Who even does this to a person? “It’s not a waste to treat you, Phoenix. You deserve medical care just as much as any other hero, but I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to.”

They looked at him with disbelieving eyes. “Please don't tell her.”

“I won’t kid, I promise.” He started to unfold his trauma shears. “I do need to look at it though. I’ll do my best to be quick.”

“Yes, sir,” they said, arms wrapped protectively around their core.

While he maneuvered the scissors, he did his best to keep them out of Phoenix’s sight. Their uniform was unnervingly easy to cut away. They hadn’t switched to the stab resistant fabric set. He’d need to talk to Aaron to make that change for this one’s replacement. With the amount of injuries they seemed to sustain, the switch should've been made ages ago.

The already torn fabric came away easily, revealing the wounds’s jagged, blood caked edges, along with a plethora of scars. There were burns as well as cuts, and some of them were handprint shaped. His stomach turned. Several of the scars were faded and old. They would’ve had to have happened when Phoenix was young. Who the fuck does this to anyone, much less a kid?

“That has to hurt,” he said as he examined the wound. They were already healing, the wound bed a healthy healing color. “I’ll get you hooked up to some pain meds and then I’ll clean it and bandage it, okay?” He quickly gathered the supplies needed for cannulation.

If he was being honest, he would’ve preferred to have another person in here, but Phoenix was barely tolerating his presence and he doubted they would be able to handle a second person. “Can I have your arm?”

Hesitantly, they moved it from its position around their belly and rested it at on the table. “I’m gonna put a line in. It’ll hurt a little bit, but it’ll be quick.”

The procedure went easily, and after he’d wrapped bandages around it to secure it, he prepared a syringe to push some pain control. “I’m gonna give you something to help with the pain.”

Phoenix started shaking their head again. “You don’t need to do that, sir. I don’t wanna waste. You can save them for heroes that need them. I'll..I’ll be okay.”

“It’s not a waste. We have plenty of meds, and we’re nowhere near close to running out. I don’t want you to be in pain when I treat you.” They tried to wrap their arm back over their body, wincing when the end of the cannula caught in their elbow. “O…okay,” Their face was tired, and it looked like they’d lost the energy to disagree with him.

Just as Joseph was about to push the meds, an outraged shriek came from the room over. “How dare you! Don’t you know who I am?” It was Abbie.

Phoenix immediately froze, numbly pushing the syringe away from their arm pulling their legs in close, balling up on the exam table. “‘m sorry,” they mumbled, only half present. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t gonna take them.” They hiccuped, tears rolling down their cheeks again. “I know…I know my place. I promise. Please. I’m sorry.”

“You’re okay, Phoenix. Abbie isn't here. She’s not going to hurt you.” Internally, Joseph cursued. That was it. They need to go somewhere else if Phoenix was ever going to calm down enough. “Phoenix, can you look at me?”

Their eyes flicked up, still wet from crying. “Yes, sir?”

“Would you feel better if we went somewhere else? I can ask Tori, the charge nurse about it.” Joseph didn’t care if he ended up doing this in a little tiny consulting room, as long as it was away from Abbie.

“You..you don’t need to do that.” They still looked absolutely terried. “I’m sorry for making a scene, sir.”

Joseph pushed his anger down. “It wouldn’t be too hard, and I don’t mind at all. I want to make sure you feel safe so that I can help, yeah? I want to help.”

“I’m sorry,” they said, slowly unfurling themselves. “Can I stay, please? It hurts to move.”

“Alright,” Joseph nodded. There were some battles that he wouldn’t fight unless he had to, and this was one of them. He’d bring it up again if they started panicking again. “I’m gonna go ahead and give you the pain meds so I can start working on your leg, yeah?”

They nodded their consent, and he pushed the drugs. “Tell me if it starts to hurt again.”

After he tossed the syringe, he was finally able to turn his attention back to their injury. They whimpered and wined as he lightly touched the wound. It wasn’t warm, and it didn't look inflamed, which was a good sign. “I’m gonna ush it out real quick, and then I’ll put a bandage over it to keep it clean.” He turned away to grab several things from one of the drawers.

Phoenix’s expression was a mixture of fear and confusion, but they nodded anyway. “If…um...can..I…can I ask why you’re…doing this?” They were barely even whispering, volume practically nonexistent.

Joseph looked up, surprised the Phoenix had dared to ask. “Because I don’t like seeing others in pain,” he answered truthfully.

“Oh…umm..thank you,” they said softly.

He smiled at them. “Always, kid, always.”

Taglist: @/pigeonwhumps @rainydaywhump

[watery-melon-baller]

reading atla fics where zuko joins the squad in S1 and katara is the most distrusting of him even after sokka and aang trust zuko a la S3 is soooo infuriating like girl. did y'all forget the crystal caves where katara heard some of his Tragic Backstory™️ and IMMEDIATELY tried to help him out??? she only distrusts him so much in S3 so much because he went and backstabbed her after they had a fun bonding moment. you know who would be the most distrustful of zuko out of the 3? sokka. the disrespect.

[machihunnicutt]

🎲 for whatever your heart desires 🥰

ty anon!! i'm doing beejhawk again but with some past hawk/carlye content:

36. a kiss to the shoulder

Hawkeye had been in OR so long that he’d gone straight past exhausted and into wired, eye-twitching, hyperactivity. When Radar came through and announced that they were through, Hawkeye nearly applauded: his dirty gloves slapped together in a few half‐hearted claps.

Beej suggested grabbing a drink (the madman.) He seemed to be faring a little better than Hawkeye. He was able to get changed without his hands fumbling. He was even chatting with Kellye, on their way out of OR. Hawkeye didn’t know what time it was. He blinked in the late afternoon light, surprised. It felt like 2 a.m. His thoughts were spinning the way they did when it was past midnight and he couldn’t sleep.

“See you in the Swamp in a bit?” BJ said, laying his hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder.

The weight of his palm nearly set Hawkeye off balance. He steadied himself and then ran a hand through his hair. 

BJ’s expression clouded. Hawkeye blinked at him. His jaw looked especially nice in the light. His eyes were tired and his face was in need of a shave. His hands were on his hips: that easy, confident posture that was occasionally so spectacularly attractive that Hawkeye had to blur his eyes a little to avoid making a fool of himself. It was worse when he was tired.

“You okay, Hawk?” BJ said.

“Never better,” Hawkeye said, trying to keep his syllables crisp and not garbled or slurred. 

Suddenly, the weight of the day fell squarely on his shoulders. His back hurt. His feet hurt. His head was pounding. His throat was dry. His hands were cramping. He had half the mind to ask Radar to wheel him back to the Swamp on a stretcher.

“You sure?” BJ said.

“Go on,” Hawkeye said, swatting at BJ’s chest. “Go have fun. Don’t worry about me. When you get back I’ll try not to look like something the cat dragged in.

He felt BJ’s eyes on him and he tensed. He knew he looked as bad as he felt, but he really didn’t want BJ to worry. BJ worried about him the same way Carlye used to, when he was in residency, working all the time, drinking his body weight in coffee and falling asleep on the couch with his coat and shoes still on. She’d get this really concerned, disapproving look on her face, but bite her tongue. She’d slink off in the name of giving him some time alone (alone time was rarely what Hawk was after) or they’d hash it out in some big drawn out fight that was about one thing but really another.

He hated fighting. He hated worrying her, but there was nothing that could stop his momentum back then. There were too many things to learn and see and do. He had some youthful reservoir of energy that he didn’t think he’d ever get back, now. He hadn’t been committed to her, properly, but god did he miss her, on occasion. 

He missed the way she touched him. He missed her lovely, golden hair. He missed the mornings when he rolled out of bed before sunrise and was stopped short by her arms around him, holding tight, pressing kisses to his neck and shoulders. It was nice to be held onto. It was nice to be desired like that, even if it was just because he was warm and it was early.

He found his way back to the Swamp and flopped down on his cot. He stared at the top of the tent for a while and then tried closing his eyes. It was so dark, and vaguely lonely, looking at the insides of his eyelids so he opened his eyes again and stared some more. Why was it that every time he lay down he couldn’t sleep anymore?

He could sleep on buses and trains and park benches and strangers’ armchairs. He could fall asleep standing up or sitting down or with his nose in a book at the public library. He could nap in the birch trees back home and the red maples and the eastern white pines and the balsam firs (Mom had a booklet with all the shapes of the leaves and what the bark of all the different trees were supposed to feel like. Hawk used to walk in the woods and run his hands over the tree trunks. 

He’d liked the variety: of textures, of hardness and softness, of moss and bugs and sap. He liked that they all had different names and shapes and sizes and properties and chemical makeups and yet they all made up the same forest.

 If a layman, who wasn’t interested the way Hawkeye was interested, walked through a forest he’d just see a bunch of boring, nondescript plant life, but with a little information Hawk could see entire ecosystems. The diverse beauty of what surrounded him, the fact that he spent most of his time stepping on layers of it (leaves and acorns and mushrooms and animal tracks) was almost too much to bear. 

His vision was swimming a little. How had he gotten on this particular train of thought? Carlye? BJ? Sleeping? Waking up to a kiss on the shoulder? Walking through the woods back home.

He’d never walked through the woods with Carlye. She’d come home with him once, to visit Dad, but they’d mostly hung around the kitchen table and talked. The weather had been bad. It had snowed. Hawkeye had to settle for pointing out beloved childhood landmarks through the frozen windows.

Would he walk through the woods with BJ, someday? Would BJ even want to visit Crabapple Cove? Hawkeye was startled by how easily he could picture him there: wearing a borrowed pull‐over, sipping coffee at the counter, ducking his head into Hawkeye’s childhood bedroom and making fun of the posters on the wall. 

Hawkeye curled up on his side and thought about it some more. All of the day’s thoughts were swirling and condensing into some strange, brain soup. His pot was boiling over. That was it. BJ  would think that was funny: boiling over. 

There was a sound in the general direction of the door. Hawkeye thought, distantly, that it was funny for Carlye to be getting home this late. Usually she was home when he got there. Usually she was waiting on the couch, half‐asleep, waiting to be kissed, or just to kiss him on the shoulder. It was a soft, unconscious, moment of comfort. The first time it happened he’d felt immensely loved, just in the very gesture. He ought to return the kiss, and the love attached, since the roles were reversed. 

She was coming close to his spot on the couch now, leaning down, smelling of sweat and of booze and she said:

“Hey, Hawk? You alright?”

Hawkeye leaned up and kissed her shoulder. He leaned across her chest so their shoulders were touching. He leaned his face into the broad mass of her shoulder and melted into her.

“Carlye,” he muttered.

“Hawk,” BJ said, louder. He cleared his throat. “It’s me. It’s not…”

Hawkeye snapped his head back down to his pillow. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Sorry, I…it’s not that I don’t…I mean it’s…”

“I get it,” BJ said. He put his hands over Hawkeye’s. Touching BJ felt good. It felt thrilling, like touching Carlye.

BJ leaned down and pressed his mouth to Hawk’s shoulder. It was gentle, and slow, and not at all hesitant.

“Goodnight, Hawk,” BJ said.

“Goodnight, Beej,” Hawkeye said.

[sealrock]

junelezen, day 28: family

the hellish house euyevair, one of the growing cluster of impoverished minor houses of ishgard following the end of the dragonsong war, has seen better days.

while it's expected for a male heir to inherit the titles and manor, as is the case with lord helioroit de euyevair, lady heralette de gaucine (née euyevair) strongarmed her reluctant younger brother to give up his birthright and let her become baroness of their house, the first in her name. the eldest daughter of the late baron ajax de euyevair, heralette is both charming and cunning. with her philanderous husband zeumont and children, twins apolloix & artemielle, heralette has developed a rather abrasive reputation. when she's not deep into her cups, heralette is often scheming up ways to elevate the family name. but her obsessive need to compete with and deride supposed rivals, particularly female rivals she believes are after zeumont, make her pitiful efforts futile. besides heralette and helioroit, there is one other sibling in between them whose name is forbidden to say aloud; the second child of ajax named thetinne. unlike her self-important older sister and shiftless younger brother, thetinne was considered a quiet, intelligent, and beautiful girl who took the most after her demure mother, the late tecmessine de euyevair who unfortunately passed after the birth of helioroit. thetinne was said to have yearned for her father's affections from an early age, but she was largely ignored and ridiculed by the baron. instead he showed cloying endearment to her siblings, which heralette only made worse by fanning the flames of thetinne's jealousy by flaunting their father's favoritism in her face. some have claimed that thetinne's striking resemblence to his wife made the baron treat her so harshly, for he was never the same after her untimely demise. and so started the bitter rivalry between the sisters, whether it be over toys or possible suitors, that would last well into adulthood. thetinne was constantly underminded by her father and sister, and her brother offered no support in her plight; indeed, before the baron's death he valued heralette over thetinne by giving her a prize both sisters sought—the roguish cur zeumont de gaucine. ajax overlooked zeumont's loose morals in favor for his family's esteemed pedigree... and deep coffers. it should've been the end of the story, but what would ultimately become the catalyst in the deep-seated hatred between them was when thetinne was caught in a rather compromising position with zeumont by none other than heralette herself. the man in question barely flinched at being discovered—the notorious lech had married heralette a mere six moons prior. the events thereafter were rumored to be explosive. heralette was said to have hacked off her sister's long dark red hair, thetinne's most prized possession, in an enraged and savage fit of retribution after the two engaged in an acrimonious row. thetinne was swiftly exiled from the family home before fleeing ishgard altogether, and she hasn't been heard from since. all evidence of thetinne's existence has since been scrubbed from the halls of the family manor; any portrait of her was destroyed or painted over. whether she yet lives is a mystery, but the tale is still told with petty delight in parlors amongst noble scandlemongers to this day.

[kedreeva]

7 and/or 10 for the fanfic writer ask meme?

7) How do you edit your fics? What do you look for in your edits?

So, I write in local documents because I don't really like google docs, but when I am doing a real edit job (sometimes I just read through once and slap it up if I'm having a good time), I pop them into a google document because it allows me to make notations without changing things. Then put the words into a voice reader to read them aloud to me! The first time I just listen without reading along with my eyes. This prevents me from having to deal with my tracking issues and forces me to listen to every word, as opposed to skipping words or whatever. The voice reader is ruthless; if I spell something wrong it WILL mangle it trying to pronounce it. I've gotten to the point where I can hear most punctuation in the way it reads, too, so I can often tell if there's punctuation issues like missing commas or something. One of the major things I usually look for if I'm doing full on editing is that the sentences feel good to read aloud or can be read aloud without getting lost in them. I also don't make changes as I go on that pass; I leave comments on the google doc. This helps me prevent the whole "I need to make this change/finds this change 2 sentences later" disaster. It also means I don't feel compelled to perfect something before I finish going through once, because it's mostly note taking. Once I've gone all the way through listening, I go back and make any changes I have noted.

second pass through, I listen again the same way, except this time I read along. It's harder for me to read with my eyes than it is to listen because my eyes want to just skim and get the gist of it which is a terrible way to edit. So, listening along helps. And I read along the second time to catch the things a voice reader can't- like missing apostrophes in possessives (steves vs steve's) and homophones. Again, I don't change as I go usually, I just take notes. I make the changes once I'm done going through. This also edits my edits.

Third pass, I just listen! There shouldn't be anything I need to change at this point. This is the point where, if I can find a beta reader I like (I don't have one currently, mine all acquired Being Busy With Real Life), I would turn it over to them in a google doc, where they can leave comments. Sometimes this is all minor things like if I missed a typo or a sentence doesn't come across clearly. Sometimes it's "this entire section is weird good luck." Sometimes post-beta edits just require some small fixes and it can be posted, sometimes I have to rewrite the chapter and repeat the process. Depends on how much I care to be improving vs how much I just want to have fun, usually.

10) How do you feel about writing plot, setting/description, inner thoughts, dialogue?

Plot, love it. Love a good plot. Love when plots Do Things. Could use less plot when trying to write smut.

Setting description, could take it or leave it, I suppose it depends on what is being described. I used to find it tedious, but I've started getting around that by deciding everything is beautiful if I choose to describe it. Turns out people like weird descriptions of stuff.

Inner thoughts, not really sure what meaning that will have for you, but probably enjoyable. Fanfiction has a lot of thinking and feeling descriptions, which is probably a large part of why I enjoy writing it.

Dialogue, LOVE it. Favorite.

[zantedeschia-praesul]

[ HERO ] (for Saseki from Hachisuka 👁️)

((OHOOOO INTERESTING))

@kowaindar0u

[ HERO ]: sender notices the receiver about to fall from a height, and manages to intervene just in time, catching them before they get hurt.

It's a rare excursion beyond their usual expedition assignments, and this time the saniwa has taken upon himself to somehow follow the team (having put up barriers around their home before they left). Something about the Government's directives didn't sit well with Saseki to let his men go on their own. He made a mental reminder to apologize to Fukushima Mitsutada for having to trouble the whole team later.

It's the standard six-men team: Fukushima as Captain, then Sanchoumou, the Kotetsu brothers Hachisuka and Urashima, Hyuuga Masamune and Hakata Toushirou. But Saseki knows well to not interfere but only be within range from behind, in case his hunch had been correct.

It's the last stretch, and the team split up; half going down to the base while the other half heading uphill (to which Saseki had followed along). All went well, until--

"ARUJI LOOK OUT!"

Saseki barely manages to draw out his sword in defense; something--it's not the Retrograde Army--!

Something else had been lurking out here and they were angry.

Angry that the Touken Danshi's Master had been smart enough to come along to interfere with them!

Saseki cast a spell as he slashes away the stray entity, but at the expense of losing his footing near a cliff. He doesn't have time to cast--nor the space to draw his spell--and would've fallen right into his own demise...

...that is until he heard two voices: one calling out for him, and the other calling out for the person who managed to sprint forward and catches him just in time.

The saniwa pants heavily, sword still unsheathed, before looking up and seeing flashes of gold and purple.

"Ha...Hachisuka..."

[savedbythefall]

i’ve always been a colder person; sweaters, boots, leather jackets and jeans. dark colors and loud music and energy that takes up a room. I remember earlier this year, I was talking to my friend matt. ‘when I first met you, I thought you hated me,’ he said. i was kind of surprised. i dont think i act like i hate people. but maybe that’s the coldness setting in.

last summer was the hottest one in recorded history. I know this because of 1) instagram statistics and 2) i had to work outside in 114 degree weather. i do miss it, though; I’d never admit it to anyone, but it’s the energy that i miss. last june i read this fic and it changed my life. was it rpf? yes. was it everything i needed to feel whole? well…. also yes. i romanticize stuff a lot— it’s the only way i can get through life. if I can’t pretend I’m in a movie, then how else am I going to be happy with anything that happens? if I pretend there’s a plot written out for me, nothing I do is ever without a reason.

but that’s not the point; I miss the heat of july, crawling and sweaty, under your skin; I miss popsicles after a work shift and walking to rita’s with my friends in flip flops and jean shorts. I miss even the sickly humidity of maryland in august, when the bell rings for the first day of school and you’re back where you want to be.

for the fourth of july last year, we set off fireworks at deep creek lake with my friends. we drove out with the truck and my dad put down the bed and my brother and I sat on it and stared at the sky. the friends set off roman candles. the sky darkened with the smoke. soundtrack’s the most important part, and I’ve always been fond of the maine. the entire ordeal made me think of that fic i had read. it feels like everything makes me think of it, still. it’s existential and it’s Big Living and it makes you feel like you’re living a dream. it’s my favorite written work to date.

I’ve been thinking of summer a lot lately. I’m not entirely looking forward to it— my seniors will be leaving for college, and I’ll be here, same place i always have been; i’ve got work every day of the summer again, im almost positive my dad will plan tons of camping trips, which i feel neutral about—- but it’s the warmth that settles in your bones i miss. who needs a profound thought. I miss popsicles and cherry red lips and my girl to hold my hand. I miss concerts and short skirts and sand under my toes. but mostly, i miss how the night settles over you, like a blanket, hot and starry and beautiful, something you can roll in, relax in. There’s something really beautiful about being a teenager right now. I’ve got the passion of a child with the mind of an adult. I’ve got friends i would die for and music i would die to create and right now, i dont think i mind being alive.

[sixofravens-reads]

Okay, some post-shower thoughts about Hummingbird Salamander (spoilers under the cut):

Overall, a solid thriller-mystery. Jane was an excellent anti-hero, smart and strong but still not so much that she could easily defeat any obstacle. A thrill-seeking office worker who's torn between boredom at her normal suburban life and a deep love for her family (though she tries to downplay it).

The mystery is complex, full of twists and dead-ends and doubling-back, but not so much so that it stops making sense. I love the settings - Vandermeer is very good at the urban-fantasy thing of making ordinary buildings or businesses into more than what they are. The backstory that's revealed throughout is heartbreaking as much as it is informative - telling us more about Jane as a person than anything she writes about the present.

I did feel like this book could've been about 50 pages shorter - maybe ending after Jack abandons her on the mountain, instead of her going to live in the woods for 5 years. Maybe she doesn't meet Silvina anyway, but after that climactic fight there's a bit of an unnecessary lull in the story. Or maybe after meeting Silvina she leaves for a few years, but either way it just seems like the ending is very delayed and a little anticlimactic.

I do wish we got more of the backstory of Silvina, Langer, and Jack's entanglement, because for a lot of the book even after we learn more about them, it still just seems like Jane's unwittingly stepped in some lover's quarrel. A lover's quarrel where everyone thinks one person built a bioweapon and therefore must never be found in case the finder somehow detonates said weapon.

Also, Silvina. She doesn't quite hit right for me. She's not mysterious enough to play the revered cult leader, or tangible enough to truly impact the story. Often I wondered why Jane kept going when there seemed little motivation to - there never seems to be any goal, even a vague one, especially since Jane thinks Silvina is dead for most of the book. Also, I understand the author wanted to ride the line of showing Slivina as a revered environmentalist and also showing her failures - she's a billionaire's daughter who, while her goals were good, did a whole lot of evil to get there - but at times it didn't seem like Jane even revered her enough to be following her. She was mysterious, but not intriguing enough to understand why Jane kept searching for her clues after the Larry incident.

I think since we know Jane is writing all of this, it would make more sense if she played up Silvina's mystery and goodness even more and the bad things were more subtly told to the reader (just like with Ned in the backstory).

Also, strangely for a book about climate change, it doesn't seem to make any huge statements about that. Like, yes, the earth does get very bad over the course of the book, but it's the same scenario we've seen a dozen times before in eco-apocalypse tales. Jane seems concerned by it, but also not. Silvina was definitely concerned by it, but for 75% of the book she's thought to be either an eco-terrorist trying to kill all humans or an animal-smuggling fake who gave up when the going got too tough and only managed to build a glorified strip mall.

At the end, instead of trying to save the world, she attempts to change herself (and Ronnie and Jane) and release a pathogen that will somehow make humans...care about the environment more because otherwise they'll be very uncomfortable? I think? I'm unclear on what the goal was there, or how it can stop this ball from rolling downhill. Either way, she most likely failed.

Actually, thinking back to Annihilation and Borne, Vandermeer's climate themes always seem to lean towards "humanity cannot save earth, we have to go through the apocalypse and be reborn for the world to be cleansed." Which...not something I personally agree with but definitely interesting to read.

All in all: a solid book, not one of my favourite Vandermeers (probably third from the bottom, I think, just above Dead Astronauts and Ambergris), but still intriguing and worth a read!

[thatpunnyperson]

According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.

And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.

Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.

So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.

Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[egophiliac]

how are u on gavv so far? because i need to scream about how insane it has been (and that zakuzakuchips and fuwamallow have won special places in my heart)

can't believe his mom got flavor-blasted to death. 😔 RIP.

[waitineedaname]

i was thinking my little thoughts while falling asleep last night, and a concept occurred to me: what if binghe learned about the system not from shen qingqiu, but from shang qinghua

look, he likes shang qinghua alright. he's pretty disinterested in p much anyone who isn't shen qingqiu, but on the list of People Luo Binghe Tolerates, shang qinghua is relatively high. he gave him advice on wooing sqq, after all, and sqq likes his company, so binghe tolerates his shang-shishu

but the thing is, shang qinghua is a spy. has been for decades. binghe knows this. really, everyone knows this at this point, which isn't a great look for a spy, but still. and since shang qinghua is a spy for mobei-jun, who is a subordinate for luo binghe, then technically shang qinghua is also working for him, but you don't get to the position of demon emperor without a healthy amount of suspicion for everyone in your court

so he decides to test shang qinghua a little bit. nothing major, just a little poking around in his dreams. he starts out with a subtle touch, just sifting through his memories. most of it is what he expected. he sees his time on an ding as a disciple and then later as peak lord, he sees him working for mobei-jun. he sees mobei-jun in some compromising situations, which he files away for later, and then sees him in an entirely different flavor of compromising situations, and binghe immediately decides to act like he never saw that

then he decides to take a more direct approach and starts nudging the dreams in other directions, to see how he might react to certain scenarios, test his loyalty. he expects shang qinghua to act cowardly, or bluff his way through a situaton, maybe even draw his sword if pushed far enough

what he doesn't expect is for shang qinghua to frown at the changes luo binghe made and go "I didn't write it like this"

what

binghe is so bewildered by that response that he loses his grip on the dream for a second, and before he knows it, shang qinghua has spun the dream scenario back into the way the scene originally played out. he steps back and looks satisfied. "there we go," he says. "that's how it went. you know, if I'd known I'd be dealing with this scene myself, I would've written it differently"

what the hell does that mean?

fascinated, luo binghe continues to test him. most of the time, when he toys with someone's dream, they're completely unaware of the changes. shang qinghua, despite not seeming aware that he's lucid dreaming, seems very aware of how each scene should go. except for, strangely, many of the scenes that binghe himself was in. binghe pulls up one from his disciple days, one of the times he remembered shang qinghua coming to qing jing on some errand. he hadn't even changed anything yet, had just let the dream version of his younger self launch himself at shizun in a tacklehug, but shang qinghua tsks and takes the reins from him before he can make any edits. "sorry bing-ge, but that was just way too out of character," shang qinghua says. the dream copy of luo binghe's younger self is sent further away, watching the peak lords with a sullen gaze. he's skinnier than binghe remembers being at this age, and one of his eyes is swollen with a purple bruise. that doesn't make any sense, luo binghe thinks. he hadn't been beaten on qing jing peak for years at this point.

the shen qingqiu beside shang qinghua in the dream stands with his back straight as a ruler, and when his gaze lands on luo binghe, he sneers behind his fan. shang qinghua sighs. "cucumber-bro really wasn't as good of an actor as he thought he was. he's way too soft to ever seem like the original goods."

alarmed, luo binghe dispels the dream and steps out of it entirely. sure, he knows shen qingqiu's personality changed almost overnight when he had that qi deviation. everyone knew that. he avoided questioning it much, unwilling to look a gift horse in the mouth when it meant having a shizun that cared for him

but shang qinghua. shang qinghua seems to know something more about shen qingqiu's personality change. something he's not sharing. luo binghe didn't like the idea that one of his subordinates could be hiding something as vital as this from him

well, this had been a test of his spy's loyalties, hadn't it? perhaps he should make a visit to an ding. he had some questions.

[dykekarkat]

worst feeling in the fucking world when the fandom falls victim to the delusions/lies that the character's feed themselves and than those lies are taken to be the True Essence of the characters

like i just finished rereading assassination classroom (for maybe the fifth time?) and focusing on karma + nagisa cus theyre my faves and like theyre fucking liars!!! ik its basically a dead fandom now so most of the content ive been looking at is years old at this point but like they would be sooooo happy to know accurate grasps of their characters are near nonexistent.

like karma WANTS you to think he's a cool genius lone wolf who only cares about his own abilities!! meanwhile basically every single action he takes in the second half of the manga proves each of those traits to be false outright!!!

like hes (sort of) a team player! he knows everyones strengths! hes thinking about other ppls feelings when it comes to the assassination! he's been putting in insane amounts of effort since he failed that one final!

nagisa WANTS you to believe that he's a fully selfless, weak, support player while being pretty much the exact opposite!! but he doesnt work in a team he works best alone! literally w express permission to work fully solo during the war arc! he wasnt thinking of how everyone else felt during his proposal to save korosensei! he wanted to be the one to kill korosensei (somewhat selfishly)!!

the narrative foils are narratively foiling and no one wants to give it the proper respect it deserves smh.

[izzystizzys]

There is a scratch mark on the floor of the Council chambers that Mace has never noticed before. Not a deep one, mind, quite shallow. This matters because it’s making the white-hot pulse of agony stabbing through his eyeballs ebb momentarily. Then, he chances a glance upwards at the fidgeting Knight in front of them, and it returns in full force.

Huh, he’s never seen Oppo Rancisis’ face turn that colour before.

“Hmm”, Master Yoda hums, deep and scratchy. His expression is unreadable even to Mace beyond a baseline gremlinness, and the force with which he grips the edges of his seat is making his bones creak. Master of the Order you should become, they said. Follow the calling of the Force, you should. A fulfilling purpose, it will be. Mace is going to hunt the little goblin for sport when this is all over, and he’s going to laugh the whole time.

“Show us the livestream again, could you, Knight Parvo?” Yoda asks. Mace bursts a capillary, he’s pretty sure, and so does poor Knight Parvo, whose orange Mon Cala skin tips all the way into blood red with stress. “Most unusual, this is.”

“Absolutely not!”, Ki Adi intervenes before Mace has to, thank the Force for little mercies. Plo Koon’s tusks tremble slightly with either suppressed laughter or abject horror, maybe both, and Stass Allie has her head in her hands. “The holo stills should be enough”, Ki Adi proceeds to add, and Mace has to reconsider all feelings of grace he just felt towards his fellow Councillor.

He never wants to watch Yoda zoom in on someone’s abs again. Or Depa raise her eyebrows at the curve of thighs bent over the dripping front of a speeder.

“Speeder Wash For Our Troops”, his former padawan reads out loud from a still of what has to be hundreds of the things gathered in the public senate parking lot. “Fund Our Boys And Get A Wet Seeing-To!” The series of images features dozens of Coruscant Guard troopers in various stages of unkitted, gleaming and shining with soap suds and water. The fact that the whole thing is also massive shatterpoint after massive shatterpoint is, quite frankly, insulting.

“Well hello- oh dear”, Obi-Wan’s blue form crackles to life in his chair, followed by several sounds of choking that are definitely not him. Good, Mace thinks acidly. If he has to deal with this, then so does kriffing Skywalker. “I’m sorry, why am I looking at Commander Thorn using a washrag like a lasso on top of a speeder?”

“Oh, the Guard’s little fundraising project”, Bail Organa says, as he steps into the Council chambers. Normally, Mace likes the man well enough. Now, he just smiles and adds on, “I’ve already donated, in mine and Breha’s name. Remotely, of course.”

“The Guard’s fundraising speeder wash?”, Obi-Wan repeats, edges of his holo form flickering with what Mace suspects is Skywalker very unsubtly trying to edge in. Force, but the man really is horrible at any and all stealth, like kissing his secret wife in an open arena in front of his Master. “And they are fundraising for…?”

“GAR budget allocations have to come from somewhere”, Organa shrugs. “And with the tide of public opinion turning, they’ve been tending towards cuts. The Guard feels them more keenly than any other sector - they’ve been reduced from half to quarter rations, and medical supplies have not made more than a token appearance in the last draft. The Chancellor has cancelled three consecutive meetings on the matter, and thus it was agreed that a more hands-on approach was needed. Any surplus will go into the Army fund.”

“Surely it can’t be that dire”, Oppo protests, a slightly less concerning shade of purple now. Senator Organa shrugs again, jostling the smattering of cracks slowly building around his person in a way that makes Mace wince quietly. “It’s all publicly available data, Masters.”

It really can be that dire, as it turns out. And quarter rations is only scratching the surface of how dire, considering the Guard has apparently never had access to bacta in all their posting, and also includes requisitioning forms available to the Senate for reconditionings and decommissionings, two words Mace has only heard Ponds whispers amidst shuddering in the early days of the war before Shaak Ti went off and just about tore some throats out over it.

“Alright”, he concedes, rubbing at his temples. “Fair enough, we have failed to tackle a massive blind spot in the Guard’s well being. There is no Jedi assigned to Coruscant, and that’s an oversight on our behalf. But how in the everloving kriff did this get past the Chancellor and Commander Fox?!”

Who have both signed, black on white. Bail Organa smiles cryptically. “Well, if you scroll a bit past that one image, up to the industrial speeder in the back - Commander Fox is currently having credits stuffed into his codpiece in the back, I believe.”

“HE’S WHAT IN THE WHAT NOW”, Commander Cody screeches through the speaker of Obi-Wan’s holo image, and Mace has to summon every bit of Jedi-serenity he possesses in his body to keep from dropkicking a cackling Yoda through the chamber windows.