#tumblr seems to be moving my read-more break around (like down a paragraph every time i open the post in edit mode)

[anditvanisheslikemist]

Hi!! I'd love to see any combo/one of these for Josh or Ian 😊 38, 50, 67

These are the prompts in case you haven't seen them

Thanks for the prompts! 💙💚

38. “Just let me take care of you why are you so stubborn.” 50. “You sneezed ten times today.” “Thanks for counting.” 67. Having to be dragged back to bed.

I'm taking the dialogue prompts in particular as inspiration rather than exact quotes!

For anyone who doesn't know, my OCs Josh and Ian are best friends and 2/5 of the band The World Above. Their story starts with Sympathy, but you don't need to read that first (it's pretty long). As of this little fic, they're halfway across the country from each other, Josh in Chicago and Ian in L.A.

Also on AO3.

- - - - -

"Why are you even awake? It's so early there."

Ian turns a full circle as he's looking for something, the video blurring enough to make Josh dizzy. "Because! Shit to do." He blinks, and his nose scrunches, and he leans out of frame with a quick heh-SHHHoo!

"At—" he glances at the microwave clock and subtracts two hours— "8:46 a.m.?"

"That's not early." He sniffs and rubs the back of his hand under his nose, still distracted.

"Not to the rest of the world, no." He scratches Finley between the ears and leans back into the sofa. "What are you looking for?"

"Hmm." It doesn't quite come out right, like his nose is too blocked to let the sound through. "I… heh!-ngt-TCHiu!"

"Bless you. You don't remember, do you?"

Ian's slower to recover this time. "I remember." He coughs and wipes his nose on his sleeve. "Or. I will remember." He thinks for another moment. "Eventually."

One of Ian's many roommates walks through the back of the video. …Jayson. Yes. It's a big house with a lot of turnover, all musicians and artists working server jobs and the like to make ends meet in L.A., but he's been around long enough that he was there when Josh went out to visit last fall.

Ian's coughing again, and this time when he fumbles around for something out of frame he comes up with a handful of tissues, and sets the phone down to blow his nose, which just makes him sneeze again. Twice.

"That doesn't sound good," Josh says when Ian picks the phone back up.

Ian shakes his head dismissively. "I'm fine."

"Dude," Jayson says from the background. "You've sneezed like ten times already, and I only got up fifteen minutes ago."

Ian flips him off. Jayson shrugs and goes back to his coffee and his book.

Back to Josh: "Don't look at me like that."

Josh sighs. "You know what I'm going to say."

"That I've got shit to do and the start of a cold is not enough to stop me?"

At least he admits it. "That it's a Sunday morning with no obligations and you should go back to bed."

"Do you want to see my to-do list?" His voice is starting to sound strained.

"I wouldn't be able to read it." Ian had, at some point, figured out a system that worked for him. And only him.

"It says I have three sponsored posts to do and half a dozen venues to contact." Ian's been able to parlay his low-level fame into social media deals and solo shows and appearances with other people's bands, and there's a little bit of streaming revenue coming in from their World Above stuff. But only a little bit.

"Four," Jayson says without looking up from his book. "Sponsored posts."

"Oh, shit, you're right." Ian scrubs at his forehead. He's still in go-go-go mode, but he's fading, about to crash, his tan skin washing out before Josh's eyes except for where his nose is starting to be rubbed raw.

"And that all has to happen today?" God, he hopes not.

"Well, no. h'TCHIU!" He sniffs and reaches for more tissues. "Not technically."

"Bless you. So it can wait a couple of days?"

Ian shrugs, not meeting his eyes, which in this case is a yes.

"So you should go back to bed."

Ian grumbles unintelligibly. Finley noses his way toward the phone to see what's going on, and Josh has to stop him from licking the screen.

"I don't think your sponsors want someone clearly sick doing their ad reads," he tries.

"Fuck you, I always look good."

Josh rolls his eyes. "You can post reels or whatever from your sickbed. Get plenty of sympathy likes."

"Hey, some people think that's hot." Because Jayson is fully a part of this conversation now, apparently.

Ian's resolve is starting to waver, but he shakes his head firmly. "I can do it."

God, this would be so much easier if he was there. "Ian, I say this with love, stop being so fucking stubborn and just go the fuck back to bed. You need it."

Ian tries to protest some more but just starts coughing instead, and by the time that's over all of his fight is gone. Jayson had gotten up at some point and filled a glass with water, and he hands it to Ian and steers him by the shoulders back toward the stairs.

"I got it, I got it," Ian mumbles, shaking off his hands, and starts slowly climbing the stairs.

"Thanks, Jayson," Josh says, relieved. He gets a salute in return, and then they're alone.

Ian's breathing heavily by time he gets to the top of the stairs, and his nose is running, and it almost looks like he's starting to shiver. He shuts his door behind him and curls up under the covers, eyes barely open.

"Josh?" A little shaky.

"Yeah."

"I don't feel good."

Gentle: "I know. I'm sorry. Do you want to take anything, or just go to sleep?"

Ian nods, which Josh takes to mean the second option, but doesn't close his eyes.

"Here. Hang out with Finn for a while." He turns the phone around so Ian can see Finley lapping up water across the room, and then back to himself when Finn spots the invitation and pushes his way past the coffee table to nestle between Josh's legs, wagging his tail even though there's not really enough room and licking the screen before Josh can stop him.

"Puppy kisses," Ian says, hoarse and vague.

"Puppy kisses," Josh agrees, wiping the slobber from the screen. "Everything else can wait, okay?"

"Okay," Ian whispers.

Josh scratches Finn behind the ears and nods. "Everything else can wait."

[strawbrrycuteblog]

hiii. I’m sorry if I made you upset with what I said. that was not my intentions at all. I feel like you shouldn’t delete you account but just start fresh. for example maybe changing your username or creating a new theme and getting rid of posts. I know you may not wanna do this but it’s just a suggestion, and if you do that I could try get Aria to unblock you <3

also your messages wouldn’t work so I’ll just send this on here x

No it’s okay if anything it made me realize what I was doing wasn’t something enhypen would approve of and I cried cause like yeah but I’ll do a different layout and change the posts and think of a different name and I’d be so so so thankful if you could try and get aria to unblock me cause I truly meant no harm and I’m so sad that I disappointed her like it’s not even funny 😭 that whole night I thought about it and cried thinking of how shitty a person I was for writing things like that about him. I know if he found these he’d be uncomfy and they’d probs beat my ass for sexualizing their baby puma :( so therefore I won’t be writing smut for Niki, maybe even not for other members since it’s just all in all makes me uncomfortable to do so. I had fun writing them because it started to get to a point where people enjoyed what I wrote but definitely not for the right reasons. I love the tumblr community (mostly) and to have my account only be warned by other is truly a nightmare, that’s not what I wanted for this account and that’s not what I want people to see me as. My replies to y’all sharing y’all’s open opinions was a bitch move and unlike what I posted I was being a bitch and not that bitch. I can explain this better not that it’s a proper time and I’m not having a whole questionnaire about my existence and I appreciate you being kind to me despite every thing I’ve written down, especially for sending in that paragraph! Because if you hadn’t I probably would have just kept posting worse and worse things about him. I had a thought about posting audios for him and other members since they seem to get a lot of notes but a part of me was like “no this isn’t good like who’s gonna be proud of you for this?” No one. My friend would find me disgusting and so would everyone else and obviously enhypen, after reading your last send I answered and scrolled around my phone, then I went on insta and saw they posted and I wanted to like it but I was so embarrassed because I knew they’d hate me for this. I knew I was doing something wrong yet I still did it and I fell horrible. It makes me want to throw up scream and cry. I looked at jays photos and thought of how Niki’s parents told him to protect Niki and cried cause I knew he’d be so icked about my account and instead of being happy he’d probably pull out a yellow card if he saw me. I crossed a line I regret breaking and hope for forgiveness from everyone but if not that’s totally fine! I understand how y’all would be so upset to send death threats and to send me things about being a creep and all. I wouldn’t wanna write child porn or ever post about it yet I clearly have. I’m so sorry and I’ll own up to my mistakes and be more mature about this from now own, and thank you so much….also is it possible to unblock someone? Cause I’m pretty sure I blocked @rikiluvli I hope I got that right I kinda forgot. And a few other account that I’d prefer to unblock!

[howelljenkins]

As a muslim Iraqi American with a significant tumblr following, I feel as though I should let it be known exactly where I stand when it comes to Riordan’s statement about Samirah. I have copied and pasted it down below and my reaction to it will be written down below. This will be the first time I have read it. If you want to engage with me or tell me that I’m wrong, I expect you to be a muslim, hijabi, Iraqi American, and from Baghdad. If you are not, I suggest you sit down and keep quiet because you are not the authority on the way I should be represented.

Like many of my characters, Samirah was inspired by former students of mine. Over the course of my middle school teaching career, I worked with dozens of Muslim students and their families, representing the expanse of the Muslim world and both Shia and Sunni traditions. One of my most poignant memories about the September 11, 2001, attack of the World Trade Center was when a Muslima student burst into tears when she heard the news – not just because it was horrific, but also because she knew what it meant for her, her family, her faith. She had unwillingly become an ambassador to everyone she knew who, would have questions about how this attack happened and why the perpetrators called themselves “Muslim.” Her life had just become exponentially more difficult because of factors completely beyond her control. It was not right. It was not fair. And I wasn’t sure how to comfort or support her.

Starting off your statement with one of the most traumatic events in history for muslim Americans is already one of the most predictably bad moves he could pull. By starting off this way, you are acknowledging the fact that a) this t*rrorist attack is still the first thing you think of when you think of muslims and b) that those muslim students who you had prior to 9/11 occupied so little space in your mind that it took a national disaster for you to start to even try to empathize with them.

During the following years, I tried to be especially attuned to the needs of my Muslim students. I dealt with 9/11 the same way I deal with most things: by reading and learning more. When I taught world religions in social studies, I would talk to my Muslim students about Islam to make sure I was representing their experience correctly. They taught me quite a bit, which eventually contributed to my depiction of Samirah al-Abbas. As always, though, where I have made mistakes in my understanding, those mistakes are wholly on me.

As always, you have chosen to use “I based this character off my students” in order to justify the way they are written. News flash: you taught middle school children. Children who are already scrutinized and alienated and desperate to fit in. Of course their words shouldn’t be enough for you to decide you are representing them correctly, because they are still coming to terms with their identities and they are doing this in an environment where they are desperate to find the approval of white Americans. I know that as a child I would often tweak the way I explained my culture and religion to my teachers in order to gain their approval and avoid ruffling any feathers. They told you what they thought you’d want to hear because you are their teacher and hold a position of power over them and they both want your approval and want to avoid saying the wrong thing and having that hang over their heads every time they enter your classroom.

What did I read for research? I have read five different English interpretations of the Qur’an. (I understand the message is inseparable from the original Arabic, so it cannot be considered ‘translated’). I have read the entirety of the Sahih Bukhari and Sahih Muslim hadith collections. I’ve read three biographies of Prophet Muhammed (peace be upon him) and well over a dozen books about the history of Islam and modern Islam. I took a six-week course in Arabic. (I was not very good at it, but I found it fascinating). I fasted the month of Ramadan in solidarity with my students. I even memorized some of the surahs in Arabic because I found the poetry beautiful. (They’re a little rusty now, I’ll admit, but I can still recite al-Fātihah from memory.) I also read some anti-Islamic screeds written in the aftermath of 9/11 so I would understand what those commenters were saying about the religion, and indirectly, about my students. I get mad when people attack my students.

And yet here you are actively avoiding the criticism from those of us who could very well have been the children sitting in your classroom. 

The Quran is so deep and complex that its meanings are still being discovered to this day. Yes, reading these old scripts is a must for writing muslim characters, but you cannot claim to understand them without also holding active discussions with current scholars on how the Quran’s teachings apply today.

When preparing to write Samirah’s background, I drew on all of this, but also read many stories on Iraqi traditions and customs in particular and the experiences of immigrant families who came to the U.S. I figured out how Samirah’s history would intertwine with the Norse world through the medieval writer Ahmad ibn Fadhlan, her distant ancestor and one of the first outsiders to describe the Vikings in writing.  I knew Samirah would be a ferocious brave fighter who always stood for what was right. She would be an excellent student who had dreams of being an aviator. She would have a complicated personal situation to wrestle with, in that she’s a practicing Muslim who finds out Valhalla is a real place. Odin and Thor and Loki are still around. How do you reconcile that with your faith? Not only that, but her mom had a romance with Loki, who is her dad. Yikes.

First of all, writing this paragraph in the same tone you use to emulate a 12 year old is already disrespectful. “Yikes” is correct. You have committed serious transgressions and can’t even commit to acting serious and writing like the almost 60 year old man that you are. Tone tells the reader a lot, and your tone is telling me that you are explaining your mistakes the same way you tell your little stories: childishly and jokingly. 

Stories are not enough. They are not and never will be. Stories cannot even begin to pierce the rich culture and history and customs of Iraq. Iraq itself is not even homogenous enough for you to rely on these “Iraqi” stories. Someone’s story from Najaf is completely unique from someone from Baghdad or Nasriyyah or Basrah or Mosul. Add that to the fact that these stories are written with a certain audience in mind and you realize that there’s no way they can tell the whole story because at their core they are catering to a specific audience.

Yes, those are good, but they are meaningless without you consulting an actual Baghdadi and asking specific questions. You made conclusions and assumptions based on these stories when the obvious way to go was to consult someone from Baghdad every step of the writing process. Instead, you chose to trust the conclusions that you (a white man) drew from a handful of stories. Who are you to convey a muslim’s internal struggle when you did not even do the bare minimum and have an actual muslim read over your words?

Thankfully, the feedback from Muslim readers over the years to Samirah al-Abbas has been overwhelmingly positive. I have gotten so many letters and messages online from young fans, talking about how much it meant to them to see a hijabi character portrayed in a positive light in a ‘mainstream’ novel.

Yeah. Because we’re desperate, and half of them are children still developing their sense of self and critical reading skills. A starving man will thank you for moldy bread but that does not negate the mold. 

Some readers had questions, sure! The big mistake I will totally own, and which I have apologized for many times, was my statement that during the fasting hours of Ramadan, bathing (i.e. total immersion in water) was to be avoided. This was advice I had read on a Shia website when I myself was preparing to fast Ramadan. It is advice I followed for the entire month. Whoops! The intent behind that advice, as I understood it, was that if you totally immersed yourself during daylight hours, you might inadvertently get some water between your lips and invalidate your fast. But, as I have since learned, that was simply one teacher’s personal opinion, not a widespread practice. We have corrected this detail (which involved the deletion of one line) in future editions, but as I mentioned in my last post, you will still find it in copies since the vast majority of books are from the first printing.

This is actually really embarrassing for you and speaks to your lack of research and reading comprehension. It is true that for shia, immersion breaks one’s fast. If you had bothered to actually ask questions and use common sense, you would realize that this is referring to actions like swimming, where one’s whole body is underwater, rather than bathing. Did you not question the fact that the same religion that encourages the cleansing of oneself five times a day banned bathing during the holiest month? Yes, it was one teacher’s opinion, but you literally did not even take the time to fully understand that opinion before chucking it into your book.

Another question was about Samirah’s wearing of the hijab. To some readers, she seemed cavalier about when she would take it off and how she would wear it. It’s not my place to be prescriptive about proper hijab-wearing. As any Muslim knows, the custom and practice varies greatly from one country to another, and from one individual to another. I can, however, describe what I have seen in the U.S., and Samirah’s wearing of the hijab reflects the practice of some of my own students, so it seemed to be within the realm of reason for a third-generation Iraqi-American Muslima. Samirah would wear hijab most of the time — in public, at school, at mosque. She would probably but not always wear it in Valhalla, as she views this as her home, and the fallen warriors as her own kin. This is described in the Magnus Chase books. I also admit I just loved the idea of a Muslima whose hijab is a magic item that can camouflage her in times of need.

Before I get into this paragraph, Samirah is second generation. Her grandparents immigrated from Iraq. Her mother was first gen.

Once again, you turn to what you have seen from your students, who are literal children. They are in middle school while Samirah is in high school, so they are very obviously at different stages of development, both emotional and religious. If you had bothered to talk to adults who had gone through these stages, you would understand that often times young girls have stages where they “practice” hijab or wear it “part time”, very often in middle school. However, both her age and the way in which you described Samirah lead the reader to believe that she is a “full timer,” so you playing willy nilly with her scarf as a white man is gross.

For someone who claims to have read all of these religious texts, it’s funny that you choose to overlook the fact that “kin” is very specifically described. Muslims do not go around deciding who they consider “kin” or “family” to take off their hijab in front of. There is no excuse for including this in her character, especially since you claim to have carefully read the Quran and ahadith.

You have no place to “just love” any magical extension of the hijab until you approach it with respect. Point blank period. Especially when you have ascribed it a magical property that justifies her taking it on and off like it’s no big deal, especially when current media portrayals of hijab almost always revolve around it being removed. You are adding to the harmful portrayal and using your “fun little magic camoflauge” to excuse it.

As for her betrothal to Amir Fadhlan, only recently have I gotten any questions about this. My understanding from my readings, and from what I have been told by Muslims I know, is that arranged marriages are still quite common in many Muslim countries (not just Muslim countries, of course) and that these matches are sometimes negotiated by the families when the bride-to-be and groom-to-be are quite young. Prior to writing Magnus Chase, one of the complaints I often heard or read from Muslims is how Westerners tend to judge this custom and look down on it because it does not accord with Western ideas. Of course, arranged marriages carry the potential for abuse, especially if there is an age differential or the woman is not consulted. Child marriages are a huge problem. The arrangement of betrothals years in advance of the marriage, however, is an ancient custom in many cultures, and those people I know who were married in this way have shared with me how glad they were to have done it and how they believe the practice is unfairly villainized. My idea with Samirah was to flip the stereotype of the terrible abusive arranged match on its head, and show how it was possible that two people who actually love each other dearly might find happiness through this traditional custom when they have families that listen to their concerns and honor their wishes, and want them to be happy. Amir and Samirah are very distant cousins, yes. This, too, is hardly unusual in many cultures. They will not actually marry until they are both adults. But they have been betrothed since childhood, and respect and love each other. If that were not the case, my sense is that Samirah would only have to say something to her grandparents, and the match would be cancelled. Again, most of the comments I have received from Muslim readers have been to thank me for presenting traditional customs in a positive rather than a negative light, not judging them by Western standards. In no way do I condone child marriage, and that (to my mind) is not anywhere implied in the Magnus Chase books.

I simply can’t even begin to explain everything that is wrong with this paragraph. Here is a good post about how her getting engaged at 12 is absolutely wrong religiously and would not happen. Add that on to the fact that Samirah herself is second-generation (although Riordan calls her third generation in this post) and this practice isn’t super common even in first generation people (and for those that it DOES apply to, it is when they are old enough to be married and not literal children). 

As a white man you can’t flip the stereotype. You can’t. Even with tons of research you cannot assume the authority to “flip” a stereotype that does not affect you because you will never come close to truly understanding it inside and out. Instead of flipping a stereotype, Rick fed into it and provided more fodder to the flames and added on to it to make it even worse.

I would be uncomfortable with a white author writing about arranged marriages in brown tradition no matter the context, but for him to offhandedly include it in a children’s book where it is badly explained and barely touched on is inexcusable. Your target audience is children who will no doubt overlook your clumsy attempt at flipping stereotypes.

It does not matter what your mind thinks you are implying. Rick Riordan is not your target audience, children are. So you cannot brush this away by stating that you did not see the harm done by your writing. You are almost 60 years old. Maybe you can read in between your lines, but I guarantee your target audience largely cannot.

Finally, recently someone on Twitter decided to screenshot a passage out-of-context from Ship of the Deadwhere Magnus hears Samirah use the phrase “Allahu Akbar,” and the only context he has ever heard it in before was in news reports when some Western reporter would be talking about a terrorist attack. Here is the passage in full:

Samirah: “My dad may have power over me because he’s my dad. But he’s not the biggest power. Allahu akbar.”

I knew that term, but I’d never heard Sam use it before. I’ll admit it gave me an instinctive jolt in the gut. The news media loved to talk about how terrorists would say that right before they did something horrible and blew people up. I wasn’t going to mention that to Sam. I imagined she was painfully aware.

She couldn’t walk the streets of Boston in her hijab most days without somebody screaming at her to go home, and (if she was in a bad mood) she’d scream back, “I’m from Dorchester!”

“Yeah,” I said. “That means God is great, right?”

Sam shook her head. “That’s a slightly inaccurate translation. It means God is greater.”

“Than what?”

“Everything. The whole point of saying it is to remind yourself that God is greater than whatever you are facing—your fears, your problems, your thirst, your hunger, your anger.

337-338

To me, this is Samirah educating Magnus, and through him the readers, about what this phrase actually means and the religious significance it carries. I think the expression is beautiful and profound. However, like a lot of Americans, Magnus has grown up only hearing about it in a negative context from the news. For him to think: “I had never heard that phrase, and it carried absolutely no negative connotations!” would be silly and unrealistic. This is a teachable moment between two characters, two friends who respect each other despite how different they are. Magnus learns something beautiful and true about Samirah’s religion, and hopefully so do the readers. If that strikes you as Islamophobic in its full context, or if Samirah seems like a hurtful stereotype . . . all I can say is I strongly disagree.

I will give you some credit here in that I mostly agree with this scene. The phrase does carry negative connotations with many white people and I do not fault you for explaining it the way you did. However, don’t try to sneak in that last sentence like we won’t notice. You have no place to decide whether or not Samirah’s character as a whole is harmful and stereotypical. 

It is 2 am and that is all I have the willpower to address. This is messy and this is long and this is not well worded, but this had to be addressed. I do not speak for every muslim, both world wide and within this online community, but these were my raw reactions to his statement. I have been working on and will continue to work on a masterpost of Samirah Al-Abbas as I work through the books, but for now, let it be known that Riordan has bastardized my identity and continues to excuse himself and profit off of enforcing harmful stereotypes. Good night.

[sister-dear]

Sentence Structure and Flow

Someone on discord asked me about how I structure sentences and how I learned to write. I’m going to do my best to answer! Hopefully it’s useful. It got long, so I made it a Tumblr post.

On learning to write:

Sky_squido, the author of “What Hyrule Hadn’t Seen” made this presentation and there were several points in it that I found incredibly helpful.

The two main ideas that I found most beneficial:

It’s about the ~vibes. Every story or scene has some kind of overall theme or emotion. Once you’re far enough into your story to have found what that is, edit your word choice to match. If a word technically works but doesn’t fit the mood, replace it with something else. The actual definition of a word is sometimes less important than the emotion that word conveys.

Verbs are incredibly important. If you’re having trouble with your sentence structure - if your story seems boring or like the prose drags - look at your verbs. I tend to use “is” as a verb far too often (or “was” for those of you who write past tense), so a lot of my editing comes down to reworking some sentences to make the stronger, more interesting words be the action words. So instead of “Legend was walking,” the sentence would be “Legend walked.” Or, even better, “Legend strolled/stalked/slouched along.” We’ve gone from a passive sentence to something that tells us, in engaging fashion, not just what Legend’s doing but how he’s doing it and maybe even a little about how he’s feeling.

Filter Words

Another post I found incredibly helpful: examples of how to cut out ‘filter words.’ It’s great for adding urgency, establishing tone, and introducing strong descriptions into your writing. Basically, this is how to put ‘show, don’t tell,’ into practice at a sentence-structure level. I use this approach a lot when it comes to conveying character emotion.

A couple other points

Variation is your friend.

Repeating things draws attention.

Description slows things down.

1. Variation is your friend.

For most writing, it’s a good idea to vary your sentence structure and length. Dialogue with no tags is rapid. Same with short sentences. Short and choppy reads disjointed and fast. This also applies to paragraph lengths! Longer sentences and paragraphs read slower, and in turn cause your reader to linger; sometimes maybe even linger too much. A combination keeps things interesting.

Too many long sections in a row - be they sentences or paragraphs - causes reader fatigue. Don’t be afraid to break those up. Let your readers take a breather.

If all your sentences start the same way, rework some of them. Lead with the action in one sentence and the subject in the next.

Starting a new paragraph gets a reader’s attention. You can use this for punch.

You should have one topic, or one person speaking, per paragraph.

Important things go at the start of the paragraph. Readers won’t tend to remember as much stuff from the middle or ends. Speed readers might not read those sections at all. The above note about one topic per paragraph? This is why.

2. Repeating things draws attention.

This applies to everything from individual words to overall themes to something like a series of sentences all with the same structure. It can work for you or against you.

A lot of my editing winds up being me reworking sentences to avoid using the same word too closely in succession. I’m not talking basic words here, like ‘he’ and ‘said.’ Those are non-words. If you have enough strong words around them, they disappear. They’re fine. But to use a snippet from a current work in progress:

...(Legend) bares his teeth, river water dripping off his hair and sticking his tunic to his legs. He braces his legs, wet muck squelching over the sides of his boots.

I wound up changing to “sticking his tunic to his thighs” to avoid the repeated word “legs.” I didn’t want to draw attention to his legs themselves, but the state of them. “He braces his feet,” would also work, or I could just cut the sentence down. “He braces,” does the trick just as well, and might be what I go with for the final draft. If the sentence makes sense without the word, then you can let the unneeded word go and your writing will often be stronger for it.

This can be much harder to do with nouns than verbs. Sometimes you just need to call a sword a sword. That’s usually where I start to alternate between a small group of words. “Sword,” “blade,” and “weapon” can all be alternated between to try to avoid using the same word too close together. You might also be able to get around using the problem word at all, as in the example above.

Another note on non-words. Names and pronouns qualify! You can use them over and over again and readers won’t notice. In fact, trying not to use these words can actually draw more attention than just using them!

For example, referring to Hyrule as “the Traveler.” Is it relevant, in the context of what I am writing, that Hyrule travels a lot? Or am I just trying to avoid using his name too much? If the answer is the latter, either don’t bother or change your sentence structure to remove the name entirely. If you have a solid action word, the name will disappear in favor of the action.

Using ‘Traveler’ in this context draws attention away from whatever Hyrule’s doing to what he is. That may not be the best thing to draw attention to. If what you are writing is a story about Hyrule finally getting a safe place of his own to call a home, you could use it for contrast. In which case, save it. Use it once, so it has impact. But if I'm writing about Hyrule teasing Legend, referring to him in that way can disrupt the flow of the story. It draws attention away from Hyrule's personality and his interaction with Legend to his background.

The point is to do it deliberately! It’s okay to use names and pronouns a lot. ‘Traveller’ is a title. Titles stand out.

3. Description slows things down.

Anywhere you want to linger or draw attention is where your descriptions should be going.

The middle of a fast paced action scene where your character is concentrating on the fight might not be the best spot to go into deep detail about the surroundings or what the enemy looks like. Convey those details in bursts that are worked into the action: “Time nearly rolls his ankle on the rocky ground.” Be very sparing. What makes an action scene interesting is how the character feels about what’s happening. You only need enough information on what the surroundings look like for a reader to follow along, and you can probably do most of that setup in a brief paragraph before the actual action starts.

On the other hand, if your character takes a shocking injury in said fight and you really want to dwell on that moment? Or if they’ve got a really cool, flashy move that they unleash in one single exciting burst of fighting prowess? That’s the spot to let your inner poet shine. Slow those spots down and let the reader really enjoy what you’re doing by using your detailed descriptions there.

This applies to all action, not just fighting. Walking through a busy marketplace? Action. A conversation? Can be approached as action. The best spots to use lots of description will be the spots you want to linger on: the first glimpse of a long-lost friend through the crowd, that last hug as they say goodbye.

Description slows things down. Use it accordingly.

Most everything else I can think of is less to do with flow and structure and more to do with other aspects of writing, so I'll stop here.

[jamiiviper]

The Jamil Essay

this is a reupload of a post i made a couple of weeks ago - previously it was an external link to a google doc, so it never showed up in any of the twst tags, but i worked so hard on this and i would really love it if more people read it, so i’m reuploading directly to tumblr.

to put it simply, this is a 3.7k word character analysis purely about jamil. and even with a word count like that i wasn’t quite able to cover everything i wanted to say, so who knows, maybe there’ll be a part 2 one day. i’ve also decided i do want to write a kalim version, so i’ll probably start working on that sometime soon! stay tuned!

trigger warnings: mentions of child abuse

jamil is the vice dorm leader of scarabia, who’s been kalim’s caretaker practically since birth. he puts on a facade of not standing out, preferring to remain completely average, and plans his life around kalim’s antics. as we learned in chapter 4, however, his true feelings are that he bears a lot of resentment towards kalim, and that he wants to stand out - he just wasn’t allowed to, as he can never surpass kalim.

in this essay i want to cover not just my personal interpretation of jamil, but also some common misconceptions that people tend to have about him. twitter doesn’t have this problem as much, but with tumblr i’ve found that there are very few jamil stans, especially in the theory and writing communities - meaning it’s quite common for people to misunderstand his character. in the fandom as a whole, it’s common for people to only acknowledge him insofar as “gay for kalim”. 

firstly, jamil’s character development in the main story - i would say he’s arguably the best-developed character in twst, since yana now has enough chapters available to flesh out characters after their main story arc ended. jamil holds very deep-seated resentment against kalim, to the point that he plotted to betray him for probably several years. he plotted to have kalim not just thrown out of nrc, but thoroughly ruin his reputation in the process. after his overblot, those feelings did not magically vanish - far from it. i think earlier twst chapters suffered from arcs being wrapped up a little too neatly post-overblot, but pomefiore’s arc has already proved itself to be the exception and thoroughly covers not just jamil’s continued dislike for kalim, but also the wider consequences for what he did.

since the twst school year begins in september, we know jamil is about 9 months older than kalim. from literally the day kalim was born, jamil’s life has been dedicated to kalim. possibly since the day jamil was born, and he was always fated to be kalim’s caretaker. it may even have been the reason he was born at all. either way, it’s not like he remembers those 9 months. all jamil has ever known is that his sole purpose must be to serve kalim. he must not have desires of his own, he must not do anything for himself - from childhood he was expected to be ready to give up his life for kalim at a moment’s notice. he can’t be good at anything - kalim must always be better (i’ll cover this in more depth in a later paragraph, this philosophy is key to his character). his own parents drilled this into him, even going to the extent of hitting him if he didn’t comply. it seems he has a normal relationship with his family despite this - he bickers with his sister like regular siblings, and pre-overblot he indicated that his desire to be free from servitude wasn’t just about him, he wanted to free his family. nonetheless, the psychological damage his childhood caused him is severe. is it any wonder his unique magic is mind control, when he’s never had an ounce of control over his own life?

moving onto his early teen years, we know both jamil and kalim were severely poisoned at one point, both falling into comas for around two weeks. although we don’t have a timeframe for jamil’s coma, we know kalim’s was when they were around 13 years old. if jamil’s was around this age too - probably a short while afterwards - i think it’s plain to see why jamil’s resentment began to build. he’d have been around the age where he first started to question why his life has to revolve around kalim. why should he be expected to die for someone he doesn’t even like, who’s spoiled and doesn’t realise how much jamil does for him? kalim takes everything for granted: status, friendships, freedom, and jamil is meanwhile left in the shadows with nothing. then one day kalim gets poisoned so badly he falls into a coma - how much do you want to bet jamil was blamed for that, at the age of 13? after that he’s expected to taste-test anything kalim eats beforehand, and eventually starts making all his meals for him because the risk of poison is so high otherwise. then one day he slips up, or it’s an undetectable poison, and jamil is the one to fall into a coma. is anyone blamed for that? does anyone pity jamil outside of his immediate family + kalim? no, probably not. after all, he’s just doing his duty, right? it’s truly… no wonder jamil’s resentment became so intense. he finally has proof that his life truly does not matter. although kalim certainly cares about him, he doesn’t understand jamil’s position. he sees jamil as a friend, an equal; jamil knows this can never be the case, and he also knows kalim is too privileged to ever hope to understand. 

fast forward on a couple of years to jamil receiving his nrc acceptance letter. he thinks that finally, finally he’s going to be free. four years of freedom - and who knows, maybe after that he can be free forever! he can finally excel at his classes and be his true self, without fear of upstaging kalim! 

and then kalim gets accepted a month late. for no reason other than his surname. 

and then kalim gets sorted into his dorm.

it’s a miracle he didn’t just overblot on the spot - but that’s his nature as a scarabia student. careful foresight and planning. this moment was, undoubtedly, the moment he started planning his betrayal. he had his one month of freedom ripped away, just like that. 

oh, don’t forget the fact that not long after, kalim was made dorm leader not because he notably embodies scarabia values at all, but because of nepotism. (side note: most scarabia stans agree kalim does actually reflect scarabia values, just not as obviously as jamil does, but either way jamil himself wouldn’t see it this way. this is a jamil essay so i won’t go in depth about this unless asked to!)

under kalim’s watch, scarabia - known for its intelligence and cunning - is turned into “the party dorm”. this seems to be the fandom’s perception of them too - i mean, just ask any non-scarabia stan what goes on in scarabia, that’s probably the answer they’ll give you. jamil would have probably loved the original scarabia; although we don’t know much about it, we know scarabia students are on a par with octavinelle when it comes to intelligence (paralleling azul’s constant interest in jamil). yet by winter break, scarabia is doing so badly in those same exams that they didn’t even place in the rankings…? without meaning to, kalim clearly harmed scarabia. instead of getting chance to study magic and show off, jamil is now essentially an unpaid, full-time party planner by the time his second year starts.

a few months later, winter break finally arrives, and jamil executes his plan to dethrone kalim. i may have just spent the last two pages defending jamil’s grudge, but his actions themselves are still indefensible. there’s evidence to suggest kalim knew what was occurring on some level - refusing to answer jade’s question about who was hypnotising him proved that 1) he probably had some idea deep down that jamil was betraying him 2) he doesn’t want jamil to get in trouble for it. nonetheless, this does not make what jamil did okay in the slightest, even if kalim allowed it to happen. jamil is, undoubtedly, the bad guy in this situation, no matter how sympathetic his childhood makes you feel. i could go into detail about why kalim acted the way he did, but again, this is jamil-focused.

i’ll skip talking about his overblot, because i covered his hatred for kalim in a lot of depth already and i want to talk about the general aspects of his personality like his desire for praise later on. so moving onto the end of chapter 4, we see jamil’s true self: a snarky, heavily opinionated boy who honestly just wants to be free to be himself.

but just like his freedom, that side of jamil once again only lasts for a brief moment. jamil almost loses everything after his overblot. practically every scarabia student hates him and wants him thrown out of the dorm - even kalim, his sole defender, can’t call him a good person. he’s a traitor. he says he trusts the scarabia students to work out that it’s better for them if he stays, but that day won’t come any time soon, and until then he’s keeping his distance from them all, because their hatred is that strong. if azul truly had been streaming to more people than just jade, his life would have been ruined beyond repair. so what does jamil do? he goes back to serving kalim. as a scarabia student, his foresight is good enough that he knows the option he hates the most is the only one that’ll be good for him in the end. for jamil, being himself is nothing short of a death sentence.

now i’ve talked for far too long about the timeline of his character arc, i can finally get to the good stuff: jamil’s personality, and how it’s changed throughout the stories we’ve seen so far.

the first thing that springs to mind when you think of jamil, other than “snake”, is probably “tired”. or “he’s going to snap”. something along those lines. which... yes, we know he is. he did snap. after chapter 4, this doesn’t seem to have changed too much, but i do get the impression that he’s somewhat less stressed out by kalim. his resentment has dissipated, for the most part (he does still openly insult him, though), so while he does grumble at kalim there’s no suppressed fury behind it. what replaced that fury?

guilt.

in 5-10, jamil tells azul that he intends to continue to obediently follow kalim around in order to restore his reputation, both inside and outside of scarabia. this does of course make him sound pretty selfish (as per usual), and in classic jamil fashion he doesn’t let his true emotions show, so it’s easy to take this at face value and assume he just doesn’t really care. i think in this case, we need to look more at his actions that we see throughout chapter 5. namely, the way it’s being emphasised how he’s silently watching kalim from afar - something he’s always done, yes, but yana seems to be really making a point of it in chapter 5. it’s not just kalim he’s distancing himself from, either. he’s staying away from the rest of the scarabia students too, as mentioned earlier. he never had any friends at all to rely on, even before his overblot. so by doing this, he’s effectively completely isolating himself. he clearly has a lot of thoughts about everything that he’s not sharing with anyone - just listen to the way he sighs at the end of the flashback in 5-10, how annoyed and frustrated he seems. if jamil was telling the truth about just wanting to restore his reputation, he’d probably appreciate kalim’s efforts, even if he dislikes kalim himself. he shouldn’t be upset by kalim persuading the scarabia students to give him another chance. not if he truly just wants to get back to normal. i think on some level, jamil feels incredibly guilty over his actions. he might not have even admitted to himself yet that he feels this way, and by saying things like “i just want to restore my reputation” he’s just trying to convince himself. after all, that’s something he has a history of doing.

ever since jamil’s first introduction, we’ve known jamil lives his life by the philosophy of “not standing out is the best way to succeed”. he hates standing out or receiving any kind of positive attention at all, because he thinks that it’ll only attract trouble. or so we thought, because as we learned from his overblot, jamil desperately wants to stand out. he’s powerful and intelligent, and he wants people to acknowledge that. he wants the praise and recognition he knows he deserves. this means that whenever he said he didn’t want to stand out, he was lying through his teeth - he probably constantly tried and failed to convince himself of this throughout his childhood. during his lab SR story, he even repeats it to himself in his thoughts, like a mantra - “I want to avoid standing out. I can’t be satisfied with this. I cannot be too good, nor fall behind, and neither should I get satisfactory grades or fail. This is the best shortcut to success.”. much like his feelings of guilt, jamil refused to acknowledge how much he truly wanted to show off, even in his own thoughts. he is awful at being honest to himself.

post-ch5, we find out that despite everything, jamil does still hold this philosophy, to some extent. he of course shows off his singing and dancing skills enough to be chosen as a main vocalist, and he says he wants to make a name for himself and show various people just how talented he truly is: kalim, his family, the asims and MC, to name a few. yet in the chapter before that, when kalim compliments his singing and dancing, he’s like “i don’t really want to stand out, but…”. which is honestly a little confusing at first because he does want to. i’d probably interpret it as something along the lines of he wants to show off to the people he cares about, but he still wants to keep his head down in general. so i think that to some extent, maybe he actually has internalised that philosophy now. the one time he truly expressed his desire to stand out, it ended in catastrophe for him. he has this tiny seed of doubt within him now, telling him his parents were right all along. but... he’s working past it, and applying himself as and when he’s comfortable doing so.

going back to him being bad at being honest, jamil’s a pretty big tsundere. there’s one person he does regularly receive praise from: kalim. yet despite desperately wanting to be praised, he often gets annoyed at kalim and tells him something like “this isn’t about me right now” or “what does that have to do with anything?”. plus when the praise is coming from kalim, it’s often in the context of kalim praising him to other people - as a servant, he can’t be seen accepting all these compliments, right? he can never be better than kalim. so he has to reject kalim’s praise. when it’s just the two of them alone, though, is when jamil gets embarrassed to the point he has to hide his blush under his hood. given his childhood, chances are that he doesn’t really know how to process being praised. he knows he wants people’s approval, but when he actually gets it, he just short-circuits. it was the same at his birthday celebration; although he wants to be the centre of attention, when it actually happens, he gets all embarrassed and tsun. i was trying not to let my own personal feelings spill in this but oh my god he’s so cute i can’t

next... this isn’t really linked to any previous topic, but i want to talk about jamil’s cooking! jamil cooks all of kalim’s meals, and regularly cooks entire feasts for kalim’s parties, too (as well as being in charge of getting any animals kalim wants to show off, decorating the dorm, making sure everything runs smoothly… you get the idea). his cooking is very good, and he has a lot of technical knowledge about cooking too - azul, whose parents run a restaurant, didn’t know about emulsification, but jamil was able to explain it to him. despite being so good, though, according to his dorm SSR homescreen lines he doesn’t actually like cooking very much. he says the fact that he cooks so much is “just how things turned out”. of course, he could just be being a tsun, but i do feel like he’s being honest with this - what reason does he have to seriously enjoy something he was forced into doing his entire life? However there is evidence that he might enjoy it after all; he’s particularly good at alchemy because of his cooking knowledge, and according to magical archives he’s completely neutral in motivation for both flying and history lessons, but has slightly higher motivation levels for alchemy, indicating that he can’t stop himself from putting a little bit extra effort into that class. i think it can be interpreted either way with the canon info we have currently, but regardless i would not say he’s the cooking fanatic people often depict him as. 

also, when jamil cooks, although his cooking is good, visually it’s usually very boring, to the point he and his sister would bicker over it. he has the technical skills to cook good food, but no idea how to present it. similarly, in his fairy gala SR he was told that although he perfectly memorised the dance, it was boring to watch - it looked like he was just executing the routine without any passion behind it. jamil is so emotionally repressed that he has no idea how to express his individuality. even in his bedroom, the only truly personal items he owns are a first aid kit (related to his servant position, not him as a human being) and a stereo + headphones set for dancing. he doesn’t have any other hobbies or interests - he doesn’t even know what people his age do for fun, because he’s never been allowed to think about such things. 

dancing is all jamil has that’s not directly related to serving kalim, really - but even that ties into his servant status. although he genuinely enjoys it nowadays and dances by himself for fun, he only picked it up as a hobby because kalim wanted to go to dance practice, and of course jamil had to accompany him. when his flashback after his overblot talks about him deliberately losing to kalim, the story focuses specifically on a dancing competition. which is why it’s honestly so important to jamil’s character that chapter 5 focuses on a singing and dancing competition. jamil finally has the chance not just to show off his skills in general, but his skills at the one thing he’s been allowed to love throughout his life. the one thing where losing to kalim at it hurt so much that it was such a prominent memory for him. when jamil was chosen as a main vocalist, he instinctively tries to say kalim would be better suited for the position, but stops himself and accepts it. it clearly means so much to him that he was chosen for this.

okay i started to scare people with how long this was getting when it was only 50% finished, i think if i write anymore people will actually be concerned for my health so i’ll leave it here. if you read all of this, thank you so much for putting up with my anime boy brainrot for over six full pages! i really.. really like jamil. again, i most certainly do not think his actions should be defended, but god if they’re not fascinating to read about. and i hope i covered the other sides to him well enough, the things that you’d never ordinarily pick up on because so few people talk about him outside of him and kalim as a pair (both platonic scarabia + romantic jamikali, i mean). he has so much depth to him that people don’t see and god i could easily have gone on for another few pages if i wasn’t forcing myself to stop. but please please talk to me if you want to hear more...

yana has treated him so well, jamil stans get too much food if anything but i’m absolutely thriving off it as you can see! thank you for allowing him to exist, yana-sensei!

having said that, i couldn’t stop myself from adding some extra facts about him below. please enjoy.

some fun jamil facts for your soul:

his sister used to bake him cookies on his birthday - specifically, these!

when jamil and kalim went to eat at the cafeteria with ruggie and leona, leona took one look at jamil and went “you look like you’d kill kalim in his sleep”

sebek and jamil find each other’s positions enviable. sebek wishes he could have been by malleus’ side from birth as jamil was with kalim, and jamil just… wishes he served someone he respected as deeply as sebek respects malleus (but he does think sebek is too enthusiastic)

jamil hates surprises with a burning passion, and despite being with kalim for 17 years is still not used to them. for his previous birthday, kalim held a huge surprise party, and i think he still hasn’t recovered from the shock

i think a lot of people already know that in his birthday SSR story he said he wanted a parrot after graduation so he could teach it to call him master, but it goes a bit further than that? it was actually first mentioned during his lesson chats, when kalim gets a parrot. jamil has to research how to care for it, and ended up wanting one of his own afterwards (but got too tsundere to admit it at the time).

also, he heard that the sorcerer of the sands’ parrot (iago) could speak as fluently as a human, and he got excited and watched a bunch of parrot videos on magicam, but was of course disappointed to find out that this was not the case.

he frequently uses flattery to try and get his way, like when he attempts to flatter vil during his SSR story - unfortunately he misjudged vil, as vil’s actually the type of person who hates meaningless flattery. because he does this so frequently, when he genuinely does give compliments people don’t always believe him.

according to the halloween event, jamil is surprisingly environmentally conscious, and insists on holding a sustainable halloween theme. after organising so many parties and seeing the waste they probably produce, i think there’s no wonder he’s so concerned about it.

[winchestershiresauce]

Motivation or Distraction?

Summary: The reader is so over researching and Sam, in an attempt to provide motivation, distracts her further. To say she welcomes the distraction would be an understatement.

Sam x Reader

1798 words

Warnings: NSFW, smut, oral sex

Note: I wrote this one morning when I couldn’t sleep or get work done, but I just realized I never posted it to tumblr. It’s not my best work but I can’t say no to more Sam smut.

--

Slumping back into her seat at the table, she sighed dramatically. She let her head fall back, her neck refusing to hold it upright anymore. Sam looked up from the large tome in front of him and raised his eyebrows at her.

“Everything okay over there?” he asked with a slight chuckle. “I’m worried you may have just up and died.”

“I can’t focus on this shit anymore,” she groaned, lifting her head just enough to make eye contact with the hunter across the table.

“Find anything, at least?” 

“Kinda. I mean, I found some clues as to the origin of this stupid thing, but I’m at the point where I’ve read this same paragraph six times and I still couldn’t tell you what it says,” she replied. She sat up a bit straighter and gestured at the laptop in front of her. “It seems to be some kind of pagan something or other but my eyes are rolling back into my skull every time I try to figure out its motivation for taking these people.”

Sam let out another small laugh at her dramatics as she shut her laptop and plopped her head down on her arms, covering the laptop. Sam stood up and walked around the table, stopping behind her. “Sounds like you might be struggling to find your own motivation,” he suggested, and she couldn’t quite place the tone in his voice. He put his large, strong hands on her shoulders and began lightly massaging the tension from her body.

“Keep doing that and I’d be motivated to do just about anything,” she half-joked, melting into his touch. He continued to push his strong thumbs into the tightest muscles in her neck and shoulders. 

“Is that so?” he asked, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. “But if I keep this up, you won’t be able to focus on research.”

She sat back in her seat and looked up at the gorgeous, tall man above her. He stopped massaging her neck and let his fingers slowly dance down her bare arms. Every point of contact between his skin and hers left a trail of electricity through her body. She inadvertently let out a soft sigh as the blood began to rush to between her thighs.

“Would that be a bad thing?” she asked, allowing her eyes to drift closed. Sam leaned forward, draping his body over hers, and she could feel his breath ghosting over her ear.

“That all depends on what our goal is here,” he whispered, so close to her ear that his lips brushed against her skin. She let out some sort of half-sigh, half-moan and Sam responded with a breathy laugh. She opened her eyes, and he was still right there. His body crowded hers so that she could feel the heat from him, and she knew her next move would have consequences. She and Sam had always had a certain level of sexual tension between them, but they had never really acted on it. Sure, there were the occasional light touches that lingered just a bit too long, or the way their thighs always seemed to brush against each other after a few post-hunt beers, but this was different.

She turned her head toward him and his face was so close that their lips just ever-so-slightly touched. They hadn’t yet reached the point of no return, but they were dancing on the line. Sam gave the lightest of smirks and she couldn’t hold back any longer. Twisting her body to better face him, she reached her hand up to grab the back of his head, feeling his soft, pullable hair between her fingers. She started to pull his mouth toward hers but then he was on her in an instant. 

Their lips crashed together as they plowed right through that point of no return. His tongue roughly pressed against her bottom lip and she opened up for him. As he licked into her mouth, she stood up to better get at him. Suddenly, she had her arms wrapped around his neck and his hands found her breasts. He ran his thumb across her right nipple, groaning into the kiss as he found she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her nipple hardened under his thumb and she arched up into his touch. With his other hand, he cupped her whole left breast, covering all of it with his long, thick fingers. He kneaded her tits in his perfect, giant hands and she pulled him even closer. 

He moved one hand to her ass and grabbed, pulling her hips into his. She could feel his arousal pressing against her core and she desperately needed more. He pressed her backward until her hips hit the table and he lifted just enough to sit her on the table top. The move allowed her to wrap her legs around Sam’s waist and she bucked against him. She was so wet that she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Need to feel you, Sam,” she whined, snaking her hand between their bodies. The hard, throbbing evidence of his arousal pressed against the seam of his jeans and she gasped as she could feel how big he was. His hands moved to the button of her jeans, quickly opening them and thrusting his hand inside. 

“Fuck,” he groaned as he felt how truly soaked she was. “Is all this for me?” he asked, the rough pad of his finger teasing up and down her slit.

“Yes, Sam. All for you,” she moaned, making quick work of his belt to open his jeans. 

“Need these off,” Sam growled, his face pressed into her throat. His teeth grazed the skin of her collarbone and she thrust her hips up into his hand. He pulled his hand out of her pants to hook his fingers into the waistband and pull. She lifted up just enough for him to slide them under her ass, and she tore her shirt up and off as he stepped away to pull off her jeans. 

“So beautiful.” He admired her naked body as she reached for him again. She slid her fingers under his shirt, dragging her fingertips along his bare back as she lifted the shirt up toward his head. He reached up, ripped it off and tossed it away, and immediately his mouth was on hers again. She wrapped her legs back around him and pressed her soaked pussy against his cloth-covered cock. Without breaking their kiss, he shoved his boxers and jeans down his thighs, letting them pool at his ankles. He stepped out of them and pressed roughly against her.

“Fuck, Sam,” she moaned as his thick, heavy cock pressed against her slick folds. He reached down to pump his cock a few times before rubbing it up and down her absolutely soaked slit. She let out a cry, the anticipation killing her. He teased her ready entrance with his tip before pulling away all together. Her eyes flicked open and she mewled at the loss of his touch. She reached out for him, but he dropped to his knees in front of her. As he positioned himself between her thighs, she tightly gripped the edge of the table she was sat on.

“Wanna taste you,” Sam answered, his face inches from the junction between her thighs. She opened her mouth to say something in response, but all words and thoughts were cut off with a sharp gasp as he wrapped his lips around her clit. He maneuvered one of her legs so that it rested on his shoulder as he flattened his tongue and ran it through her folds. She laced her fingers through his hair and gripped so tightly that Sam let out a groan, which rumbled through her sensitive cunt. When his lips found the small bundle of nerves again, she bucked her hips up toward his face, desperately reaching for more. Understanding what she wanted, he swirled his tongue around her aching bud. 

“I’m so close,” she panted as she began to come undone under his touch. Taking that as a challenge, Sam thrust two fingers into her slick channel. His fingers rubbed against the sensitive sweet spot inside as his lips wrapped around her clit again. She cried out, her pussy convulsing around his fingers as her orgasm took hold. She threw her head back, gasping for air as Sam continued to pump his fingers into her, working her through her climax. As soon as she was in control of her body again, she tugged on his hair, pulling his face up to hers. She had wanted to feel him before, but now she needed him inside of her.

She could taste herself on his lips and he pressed against her. Her legs, which dangled off the edge of the table, wrapped around his waist once again. He rutted against her, feeling her wetness coating his cock. He reached between them again, this time wasting no time lining himself up with her soaked opening. He thrust into her, filling her completely in one movement. He swallowed her pleasured whimpers as he began to pound his hips into hers. Each time he pulled out and slammed back in, a moan escaped her lips. 

“You feel so amazing,” he purred, dropping his head down to pop a nipple into his mouth. Her hips were jerking up to meet his every move, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long. She was so wet and tight that what little control he had melted away with every thrust. She pulled herself closer to him, dragging her teeth across his ear lobe.

“I wanna feel you come,” she whispered directly into his ear and he lost it. He slammed his hips into hers as he came with a roar. Feeling hot ropes of come spurt into her dragged her over the edge, as she came again with him. Her tight walls spasmed around him and they continued to slam into each other with bruising force as they rode through their climaxes together. Their movements slowed as they started to regain their breath and Sam placed a soft kiss to her lips.

“That was incredible,” he sighed, his lips still touching hers. She nodded with a grin and he pulled his softening cock out of her, grabbing his shirt to clean them both up. She laid back on the table, all energy completely gone from her body.

“If this is how you motivate me, I’ll do any and all research you ever need,” she said with a smirk as she rolled onto her side. She met his eyes and he grinned back at her.

“If you could find the energy to focus, that is,” he answered, giving her ass a light slap.

--

Tags: @hobby27 (Wanna be tagged in future postings? Join any/all lists here!)

[rebloged-content]

Recommended Sanders Sides creators

Marry Christmas, everyone! And a wonderful December day to all of you who don’t celebrate Christmas, too. Let’s be honest right off the bat, though: I’m only using the date as an excuse to do this list anyways.

So. Throughout the time I’ve spent as a part of this wonderful corner of the sanders sides fandom over here on tumblr, I’ve often found a new creator and wished I’d found them sooner. It kind of makes me wonder who else I might miss. If you do to, here are a few creators I’d love for you to check out. You’ll probably recognize some of the names, if not all, but maybe you’ll find a new favorite creator here?

And to the creators in question, I really love your content. If you’ve made it onto this list, you’ve definitely cause one or two sleepless nights of reading for me, because who needs sleep if I can have this, right? XD Whatever you’ll find written next to your name is the impression you’ve left on me and… Well, just know that you’ve made some days of my life at least a little happier, all of you. And I hope to repay the favor by telling you how much I appreciate you releasing your content into this world… Well, repay the favor at least a little, I suppose.

Let’s begin, then, shall we?

@5am-the-foxing-hour Because this? This is who you go to if you want to read good Janus-content. You are in a mood to read sympathetic Janus? Wanna see the danger noodle just casually interact with other sides? Go to their short stories. I mean, “the cult”? Prime example of how to tell a story with impact in just a few words. 8 paragraphs, but boy did I read that one on repeat. Or “water spray bottle”, this one is fun, short and will make you laugh. An energy drink for the fander heart, so to say.

Then there’s their mafia-au, “there’s more in me than precious metals”. Six are out so far, and I adore every single word of every single part of this. Protective Remus, sassy Janus, angst, comedy relief, destruction, Roman-Remus-sibling-rivalry, braincell Logan, survival instinct Virgil, working together over a common enemy… This fic has it all, believe me. Take your time and read it, because you will read the entire thing in one go once you start. At least I did, and I didn’t even notice.

And their advent writings? Those had me squealing and jumping around in a way I will deny if anyone ever sees it. I don’t even know what else to say, they are fucking fantastic and that’s that.

So, yeah. Go check them out, before I start fangirling about them even more. You know my personal favorites now, so just go there. You won’t regret it.

Next up is @coconut-cluster. Ah, yes, Lexi. Lexi, whose uni-AU started as self indulgent and has become the loceit story on tumblr. We all know her, or at least most of us do, and we all love her too. And while I also drop everything I do at any point of time I possibly can once I realize the uni-au has any form of new addition, there are a lot of other fics created by her that you should check out as well.

Did you, for example, ever want a sappy prinxiety one-shot with the sappiness only being implied, a mutual understanding of “we’re-not-saying-we-care-but-we-both-know-we-do” born from joking reassurances and a not-a-date-nope-only-a-break? While that may seem to be a tall order, that is exactly what “before the sun goes down” is. Plus there’s ice cream. Or maybe you’re more of a logince fan? Do you want a fic where Roman isn’t the prince but serves His Highness? Do you like sincere talks while you’re procrastinating showing your face to the subjects you don’t really want to rule over? In that case, you really should read “Viva la Vida”. Careful, though, this one is so sweet you’ll probably get a toothache… There also is an analogical fic that I’ve enjoyed very much: “Cracks in the Ceiling”. I love it, because it’s just calm. Fears creeping up on you, thrown away by a trusted friend with a few words, just by being there and playing into the metaphors you head created this time around. It’s calm, and there’s not really a climax or anything, but it doesn’t need one. Because it’s just a glance into everyday life. It’s beautiful in its own right, really.

What I’m saying is, Lexi has a lot more wonderful stories to tell than the uni-au. It’s the most popular one, sure, and it’s one of her best works. But you really should check out her other fics as well. Lexi herself once said that she writs fics she’d like to read. I would figure it’s because of this, but her stories are mostly things you don’t really find anywhere else. Dynamics, stories, world building, all of those are aspects you may find somewhere else. But Lexi is just one of those people who see what they miss in a fandom and create it themselves, and among these creators Lexi is my favorite. She just has that certain skill that makes that approach to writing result in the most enjoyable reading experiences. Lexi’s fics are special, because they’re different, because they are authentic and you can feel that when you’re reading her work.

@djpurple3 is another talented individual I want to talk about. I have to confess, DJ is, as far as original content goes, almost exclusively locked in my brain with the fiction “I just keep loosing my beat”. 23 Chapters so far, one better than the last. It’s a bitter-sweet story following Remus and his children, after the bitch of a mother has been brought behind bars. Abusive piece of shit. Yeah, I don’t like her much. But the story is so full of love and support, everyone trying their best, everyone seeing how much the others deserve the world and wishing they could give it to them… Roman and Remus have a sibling-dynamic I would die for here, too. Patton is just the most adorable friend to Deceit - here Damion - Virgil is a precious bean, Logan is cute and the teacher we all wish he’d had ourselves and… god, I could keep gushing about this fic forever. I’ll stop now, though, before I’ll start spoiler things. Wouldn’t want to do that, especially since I really, really, really want more people to give this a go. It’s not underrated, I just think everyone who doesn’t is missing out by a lot, so… Go over there and read DJ’s fic right fucking now, if you haven’t already read it at least once. Thank you.

@delimeful​, our wonderful lime-friend with a cute cat making a terrifying face in his header. First of all, there is the WIBAR universe, short for “Watch it burn and rust”. 5 chapters in act one, 4 intermissions (one of those with three chapters), one chapter of act two, as well as three extras and an au of this au called “the end of being alone”, and I’ve lost count of how many nights I spent reading those instead of sleeping like I should. (Or interacting with family. Or being productive. Or… It’s really a good story, okay?!) WIBAR is a deathworlder au. So a space au in which humans are regarded as dangerous deathworlders who can survive on a deathworld like earth. In other words, Virgil is the only human, and boy does that scare everyone around him. And the best part? You can feel the development, the shift in mentality regarding Virgil, feel the moment approach in which he isn’t a threat but a companion instead.

And, apart from the fic that inspired me enough to start writing “TINND!R?” over on my writing blog, there are a lot more amazing fics to read on lime’s blog. He wrote “How easy you are to need”, for example. It’s soft, it pulls at just the right heartstrings, it’s achingly hopeful and, god, the ending still has me in tears, even after the fifth - ? sixth? something among those lines - reread. This one’s a werewolf au, actually. Virgil is the werewolf, Logan, Patton and Roman are the humans.

Do you want yourself some of that pre-AA dynamic? I’d recommend “to taste your beating heart”. In this, Virgil gets separated from the rest of his group of vampire hunters and gets turned into a vampire himself, loosing his memories. And he’s “Anx” now, not “Virgil”, goddamnit! He isn’t their friend anymore, why don’t they understand that? Well, probably because they can still see Virgil’s old habits shining through. There’s a lot of tension, a lot of angst and a whole lot of frustration involved in this.

He also wrote some amazing one-shots. They’re mostly so well written that I’m almost sad not to be waiting on a continuation. There’s “the littlest mermaid”, in which Virgil goes to investigate a noise, finding a scared, tiny mermaid in need of help. In “community gardens” we have Remus being Remus, gaining the interest and friendship of the forest’s giant Logan. “Magical mutualism” tells the tale of a witch and a demon making a pact beneficial to both parties and opening the doors neither could have gone beyond alone. The way we’re all confused about our ships not actually having set sail yet comes to a hight in Virgil in regards to his friends in “amateur matchmakers”. And this is the point at witch I stop talking before I actually recommend every single one of lime’s fics instead of just my favorites as I had planed because I started to gush too much… XD

Let’s move on to @muppenthings​. Mupp is an amazing artist and she created a giant mermaid au. There’s this one orca who’s just… We love her, but I actually don’t think she’s the brightest. I really, really love her, though. Virgil himself is being a little protective over his human friends and casually so. I love this comic series for the art style, but I also love the way it makes me crack a laugh at least once per work. Or appeal to my mother-instincts, if it’s about baby Virgil. Too cute for his own good, I tell ya! And the facial expressions! The detail, the jokes, everything about this is wonderful. You should at least take a look.

@whenisitenoughtrees​. Cat got me with “This cup of yours tastes holy (This lie is dead)”. “A slow voice on a wave of phase” was next, later “Infinity and beyond”, “we are not alone in the dark with out demons” and “changing of the guard”. And then, suddenly, the night was over. I’ve read almost all of the fics in one go, and I’ve been semi-frequently visiting her master post ever since. When “There’s an endless road to rediscover” came out just a little while back, that lead to me re-reading through almost the entire list. I don’t regret it, my plans for that weekend would like to disagree.

These six fics I mentioned here are, by no means, the only ones I enjoyed. Those are just the ones I’ve found myself opening up again and again in sleepless nights. Those are the ones that pop up in my head and have me smiling to myself in the middle of god-knows-whatever-I’ve-been-doing-at-the-time.

Angst, fluff, hurt-comfort, you’ll find everything in that list. And something I’ve grown to like about Cat’s fics even more than anything else is the quick change between feeling perplexed, a startled laugh at certain wordings (you’ll know what I’m talking about when you see it) and apprehension. These fics will have you at the edge of you seat, swooping you away on an emotional roller coaster. And, god, the way Cat writes from Remus’ perspective? The introductions of her stories and the way she redirects to the main topic after going into detail on something? I saved a few paragraphs as screenshots on my phone because I love them and I want to read them again when I’m down. I just… Cat’s great.

Next up is @eliemo. Because Elias Virgil is the royalty of Virgil angst. From the touch-starved Virgil we’ve all had a head cannon of at one point in “Heart of Ice”, over ace Virgil panicking over telling his boyfriends that he his ace and didn’t think to tell them before in “Love our way” to so, so much more.

Mostly EV follows the story arc of an underlying feeling of dread at the beginning, which slowly grows into panic, exploding in a storm of angst and concludes in everyone, or at least whoever is around, coming to the rescue and helping to calm down, with the end being the hope for getting better in the future. They always manage to convey the confusion, fear or just the general thought process so well that you can’t help but get absorbed in the story. They know exactly what to say and what to leave between the lines to get the maximum effect. And, your heart will definitely be shattered after their angst. Still, the way the sides comfort each other and support each other so well every time is just… I love their stories, a lot.

I want to make two more suggestions if you want to check out this creator. A Janus angst fic, which can only be described as “ouch” you’ll find under the name “snake bite”. It hurts in the best way possible, because Janus gets the comfort he deserves.

The other suggestion gets a lot darker. It’s about Virgil having been abused by the “others” before he got accepted into the light side. The others are shocked to find out what has gone on behind their backs and they help Virgil in every way they can to recover. Of cause it’s a rocky path, though. This would be “Learned Behavior”. The series/au has twelve stories so far, one of which has two parts. You’ll find the master post for this pinned to the top on their blog.

If you like angst, you should also give @maybedefinitely404​ a look. Ly has a soulmate-au going, in which they use the concept of “you hear the music your soulmate listens to”. "Music in my head” is a prinxiety fic, but the two of them have yet to meet. Four chapters and two mini-fics in. The reason I mentioned angst is because in this - spoiler alert for the first few chapters here - , Virgil gets put through conversion therapy. Luckily Janus and Logan are better foster parents than the ones who did that to him.

They also have a master list for all their soulmate stories, featuring different ships. Apparently they participated in soulmate month, if I understood that correctly. And to be honest, that was how I even found their account. I absolutely adore their anxceit fic, which takes place in a human au. It’s starting off pretty sad, but the bonding moments are absolutely wonderful. It’s a lovely story, and the ending is one of the best ones I’ve yet to read. Their logince fic took my breath away, too. A flower shop/tattoo artist au, and Logan is the tattoo artist. Stunning writing, wonderful world building, just the right amount of backstory to have everything make sense without overwhelming/drowning the reader in unnecessary details. Their moxceit fiction… Well, this one had me in tears within the first few paragraphs. It’s terrible and you feel for Janus, whose perspective this is written from. The ending, though… Gods! The ending was so indescribably cute. To be honest, all of the soulmate stories are great, these three are just my personal favorites.

Concerning their one shots, you’ll probably have to figure it out on your own concerning this. I haven’t been able to read all of them yet, as sad as that makes me. Definitely palling on doing it in the future, though. I did read two of them, though. “Pippity poppity” really was amusing, and I am so looking forward to the second part of “The Boy who sings next door”. The way they write the dynamics between the sides? I live for that.

Another creator I would like to recommend is @maybe-im-tired.They don’t have a master post, as far as I could see, but they only post their content anyways, so… “Can’t take my eyes off of you” is my favorite out of their fics so far. I mean, the way they managed to fit the sheer chaos that is intrulogical into this one short fic is amazing. And you could take about two thirds of what Remus said and put it up on your wall as out-of-contexts-quotes. Don’t worry, he says them out of context anyways, and they will definitely make you laugh. 

The series of short stories for the human au that starts with “Glowing stars” is another au by them that you will almost certainly like. We have Logan and Virgil as kids (about 7 I think), Remus and Patton as single parents, Roman as the most adoring uncle, Emile as babysitter and Remy as his amazing partner. Remus is a great father, wonderfully chaotic as well. And a teacher! Imagine that, Remus as your teacher... He’s great with kids though, as long as they aren’t entitled villains come to make his precious Virgil feel bad, that is.

They also wrote a bunch of “random one shots”. They are all amazing, but my favorite has to be this one. It’s a logince one, once again human au. Patton may or may not tell his big brother’s crush about the feelings he wasn’t prepared to share yet. You know, as small kids do. It’s soft, it will make you smile as much as Logan does, and I love Remus in it. I generally like how they write Remus, okay? I know how much I’ve said it, but I’m not even exaggerating. They always write him differently, and all versions they write him as are so, so lovable and just… I wanna hug the life out of all Remus versions they wrote, okay? Take a look, you’ll know why.

Anyways. Let’s continue with @figurative-siren-song. This is the last account I’ve followed and I’m still sad about it having taken me this long to find them. Little salty, to be honest. (I’ll stick to they/them because they said just not to use she/her, and, well… consistency, you know? Don’t have much, so I have to get what I can XD). When I finally did find them, I went through their entire master list (at least all of the ships with characters I actually know. I’m kinda bad with the shorts characters, so I usually just… avoid them? Idk. Personal preference, I guess), and, well… I would honestly recommend every single fic on that list. They call themself “Repair Fluff King™️” and they deserve that title. But when they warn you that a fic will be angsty, it will be angsty.

I found them through the anxceit fic “A Deal”. Well, through an animatic by their friend on youtube that had linked the fic, but details. I’ve been reading this fic up and down again and again. It’s just so good! And when they talk in the second part and Janus explains why he proposed that deal. Or in the continuation, which i can’t talk about because I will probably spoiler things! So wholesome!

 Also, their losleepxeity fic “We’re worth it”. So soft! The nicknames, the plot, the everything. It’s softer than clouds look, and we all know that means something.

But, really. Everyone will find something for them by this creator. So many ships, all incredibly well written, and soft and fluffy without getting boring in the slightest. It’s as energizing as coffee, actually. And, let’s be honest, this whole fandom drowns itself in angst most of the time. Take a break from that, repair your broken hearts with goof fluffy content that you’ll want to read over and over again. Go check this creator out. You will love them. 

Last but not least… @myfriendsasthesides​ A blog by a creator who just takes the wonderfully chaotic dynamics of a friend group and using that to give us content of incorrect sides quotes. Maybe it doesn’t fit with me going on and on about fics here. I don’t care. Follow them and turn on those notifications, please, because seeing even one post of theirs on your dashboard will make your day. It’s funny, it’s absurd, it’s chaotic, it’s making you jealous of them for having friends like that. Believe me, you will want to see those posts. It’s just… the random shots of serotonin and dopamine out generation needs really fucking desperately 100% of the time. 

That’s it with the list! Eleven creators I absolutely adore, and I’m sorry I was babbling so much all the way through, but… Well, actually I’m not sorry. And actually, half of the reason I even made this post is to tell them how much I love them and fangirl about them a bit. So… Yeah. Well.I love you guys and hope you’ll have a wonderful day! And to everyone else reading this: I hope this helped you ind some new creators you can enjoy. And a good day to you too, of cause.

Sincerely, Joy 🖤

(@joylessnightsky/@sanders-sides-fic)

[rpbetter]

Hey, can I get some advice on improving my descriptions / becoming more literate? I feel like I'm really dull when it comes to my writing and would like some advice! Thank you!

You absolutely can, thank you for asking! I apologize it took me a bit to get to this, tumblr didn’t show me notifications and I’ve been rather busy. Hopefully, I can offer some good advice!

Please, keep in mind that, as always, it is just my advice. If these things do not work out for you, don’t feel bad about it! You just need to find what does work for you. And, if you have anything that jumps out at you that you wish me to elaborate more on, or even that simply occurs to you more specifically to ask as you read, please, do ask! I am always happy to have those questions, of course.

Being more literate in itself can help. It can also be a hindrance, however, as we tend to compare ourselves to others negatively. I’d say not to do that, but it’s something you have to unlearn, not something you can simply stop doing. We’re taught a lot of self-criticism by comparison in both the educational system and our society. You’ve got learn to approach material you enjoy as just that, something you enjoy, not a standard you need to uphold. All writers should be unique, they’re all individual people! I think the death of a good many unwritten works hinges on that, honestly; the writer couldn’t live up to their own expectations, born of comparison to their literary heroes.

That being said? Read.

Read new and diverse things, and revisit old favorites. Learn as many words as you can in whatever way works best for you; through reading alone, through word of the day apps, or looking up novel words you run across/looking up words as you write to compare them to synonyms. I know, tumblr has gotten really nasty in recent years about writers who seem to have “regurgitated a thesaurus.” There is always a bad way to do something good, there are always excesses when you’re passionate about something. Don’t replace every third word with an exotic one simply because you think it looks better. Do replace words that are, legitimately, better in how they evoke the setting or mood you are going for. Remember that word flow is important, perhaps especially when it comes to descriptions.

If you do not tend to read much material that is description heavy, I’d suggest doing so. Try to find works that are still descriptive, but fit with the genres you like to both read and write the best to get you started, but don’t stay there exclusively. It doesn’t need to be something like...let’s say, Tolkien. Not to piss anyone off, I’m not anti-Tolkien or anything, but I could never get into his works, regardless of interest or effort, because they’re so description heavy, and in ways that don’t pique or hold my interest much. So, if you find that you are not into description laden works, that isn’t a poor reflection on you! It’s more likely that you simply aren’t into those specific works, you need to find something that is more of interest to you, personally.

If you do tend to read many works that are descriptive at all, take up a few of your favorites and pick some passages within them that you enjoyed the most. Ones that you could feel. When they described an outfit, you not only saw it, you saw the way it moved on the character, knew what it would feel like to touch it. When they described a setting in nature, you had a sensory experience there as well; you could smell the hyper-specific scent of wildflowers on a warm breeze, or the electric chill of a sudden summer storm moving in.

Ask yourself what does this for you so that you can experiment with doing it yourself. Is it the words, the word flow? Is it what the author isn’t saying, leaving the reader to automatically fill in with their own sensory recollections? There are so many ways of being descriptive in writing, as many as there are writers, and as many as there are things to be descriptive about.

So, it’s, again, a bit of a situation of finding what naturally pulls you into those descriptions yourself. While there are always good rules that can apply across the board with writing, it is a creative art. If you’re only following the rules others have set down, you can end up feeling negative about the process, yourself, and the product...or your readers/RP partners feel like the work is lacking or boring. Even when people can’t quite put their finger on something, forced work feels forced, unnatural, or lacking substance.

Diversify what you consume.

I know, I just said that thing about the familiar stories! Once you’re better able to identify what it is that stands out as evocative to you, though, you can better feel that in unfamiliar works. You can get a better idea of how language itself works as a living thing. Read some things out of your usual genres, ask for recommendations from friends or family who read, check out some older works, and even follow some blogs that post a variety of poetry quotes or full poems.

Reading song lyrics and a variety of other spoken-word style things like slam poetry and rap is helpful as well. They’re all doing the same here, evoking imagery and emotion. That is what you are trying to do as well! These formats, additionally, use highly evocative words to describe in a shortened way. They are great for realizing unique ways that familiar words can be paired.

By going outside of your usual bounds, you may encounter words, writing styles, and other descriptive qualities you hadn’t considered before. If you don’t, you still end up with a fuller grasp on writing itself. Everything is a potential learning experience if you are willing to approach it that way! Use it to play around with words and styles, Use this as experimentation, and realize that it is perfectly alright for it not to work out. That’s part of the exercise of finding what works for you; realizing what doesn’t work.

When you have some ideas of what makes you experience the things being described, practice. Pick anything. In fact, incredibly mundane, irrelevant things are perfect for this. If you can describe a sock in good detail, in a way that isn’t either inaccurate or boring, giving it relevance and life, you can describe anything.

Use ask memes and writing prompts, and write them out from your character’s perspective.

Even if you are not writing a first person account, it helps you to use narrative language that the muse might use, or that gives the reader a intuitive feeling for the muse. Don’t try to fill the whole thing up with descriptions. Sometimes, just simplifying is a good thing, and will help more relevant details stand out.

For example, I will often use things in the environment around my muse to help pair with, further denote, and give the reader a feeling for the muse’s emotions, psychological state, and so on. If that muse is in a hectic state, I’m not going to describe something in the environment that isn’t, like a peaceful meadow. I’m going to describe the seeming chaos of some ants in the grass taking apart their food, the erratic seeds or spores on the wind, or the clatter of an old farm truck on the roadway that breaks up the peace of the surroundings.

It’s a very different effect than describing the entire meadow in high detail, in ways that are perceptible to my muse and not, down to a blade of grass or a rock. It then takes over too much of my reader’s imaginative process and agency without giving them anything of nonnegotiable importance about the scene or the muse. Details that reflect a state of internal distress, like the ants, seeds, or truck, then fall by the wayside of this massive scene-setting I’ve done. And, as unfortunate as it is, if you are writing RP especially, your audience is looking for details that are pertinent and impactful. They’re likely to, intentionally or otherwise, skip several paragraphs of descriptions no matter how beautiful they are.

Since you just said “descriptions” and “writing” {nothing wrong with that, I just want to be sure I’m covering as much as possible that might be of help to you}, I’m not sure if you are meaning external descriptions or more internalized, character-driven ones, and not sure if you are writing only RP, only traditional writing, or a combination thereof.

As I said above, using descriptions that reflect things about the muse is useful and interesting, regardless of how or what you are writing. So, even if you were not meaning internalized descriptions, doing the things I’m about to talk about relating to this will still be helpful!

Internalized descriptions include things like: mood, thoughts, memories, and sensory perception.

To do these things any justice, you have to really know your muse, be able to experience things from their unique perspective and not just your own - or just what you wish the reader to experience through them.

If you didn’t have inspiration for the muse, you wouldn’t be writing them, but inspiration isn’t the same as knowing them as well, maybe better, than yourself. To do that, it is a process of learning and experimentation...and practice.

Those memes I mentioned above? Those are useful here, too! It doesn’t matter if it isn’t an ask meme you want to reblog, or if no one sent you anything from it; you can find a variety of memes, save them, and ask yourself the questions.

On sentence memes, or “starter memes,” ask yourself what your muse’s internal reaction to having that sentence said to them would be, how it might externalize (or not), and if these things are true, or just your perception/what you would like to have happen. If you’ve developed this muse from scratch or spent time learning them from canon, you should have some pretty good ideas as to how they’ll feel. Expand on that instinctive or learned idea. Does it change if a different muse or character type says this? Say it is an inflammatory sentence, something accusatory, derogatory, or pushy. Do they react the same way if a loved one says it instead of a stranger? How about a person who is obviously intoxicated, or a person who is under the influence of youth, so to speak? Take that, and write out two different scenarios.

On ask, or “headcanon/development memes,” pick a question and answer it yourself. Just answer it in depth. Now, have your muse answer that question. You may notice that the muse didn’t want to answer as clearly, is lying or omitting things, and/or had other thoughts generated by that question. If you didn’t already do it this way, answer the question again as a story in which your muse goes through those thoughts. Describe their emotions using words that carry the same emotional resonance, not all descriptions need to be lengthy if the right words, right word order, are found for optimum impact on the reader. Write out the thoughts they are having, just as messy as they are naturally having them.

Outside of memes, you have yet more options for helpful exercises that get you in touch with your muse and your writing.

Try out photography and inspiration blogs. Pick a some pictures that drew your attention, and write about them descriptively. Write out how the picture makes you feel, what it makes you think about. Practice not just describing how something looks, but how it would feel to be there. Using the same pictures, write as your muse in the same way. Put them in this scene to give their experiences. It helps you get a grasp on putting impressions and experiences down in creative ways that allow others to experience it the same way, and it helps you more easily step into your muse’s mind and experiences.

Seeing things through your muse’s eyes (through the lens of their life experiences, preferences, biases, emotions, and thoughts) is critical in giving authentic descriptions. To do more of this, you can practice in every day life. Even if you cannot write it out, or write it out yet, you can consciously think as your muse. If your muse was watching this TV show or hearing this song, what would they think? Don’t just answer as, “they would/n’t like it.” Answer as to why they would or would not, what it makes them feel and think. You can continue doing this with your muse’s impressions of different environments and people.

You can even simply contemplate an emotion and how your muse feels and expresses it.

Adding on underlying and overarching emotions to the mix as you go along; emotion, and thought, is complex. We very rarely are only angry, sad, or happy. We are very rarely only thinking of a single thing, and even rarer, thinking of it out of nowhere. It’ll help you identify the way your muse experiences emotion and thought, as well as how best to describe these things.

For example, I write a muse that can easily present as simply being quiet and angry. Additionally, as the character develops, his actions and general behavior can seem to not match well with his overall, genuinely kind nature. It’s necessary for me as a writer to identify where the anger comes from, what its components are; it isn’t just anger. It’s built on the things anger so often is; frustration, sadness, and fear. It gives the reader insight and helps delineate the muse’s expression of “anger.” When the anger is coming more from a place of insulation and protection than it is frustration, it presents differently.

I describe the sensation of the most obvious emotion, the anger, but also the underlying states that have led to it being apparent. How it really feels to be a wounded animal in a corner. I describe an experience or two pertaining to the emotional pain and fear, keep it relevant throughout the text in callbacks (what set him off is related to those experiences in some way, and during or after the experience of anger, those other situations are referenced again). Maybe it is an outright flashback, maybe it is less thematically stated. The descriptions I use, again, of his surroundings-not just his expressions, tone of voice, or movements-denotes that he is in this particular state of mind. He might notice similarities in the environment relating to a previous bad experience, since he is in that mindset, or he might be noticing things in a more critical way than he normally would. Things he might see every day are being processed as hateful in some way; garish or otherwise visually displeasing, might be seen as outright harmful, or even menacing. Bold colors, sharp lines, stand out. Things come into high relief and are painted in large swaths of color, the minute details missing suddenly.

Further, you can think of things that make your own similar state of mind so much worse in these situations. Is there a repetitive sound in the background? Is the person he is speaking with seemingly blowing him off in some way? Is he hungry, tired, thirsty, in physical pain? I then write those things throughout as additional, building irritants. 

Using your personal experiences isn’t a bad thing, I really wish tumblr hadn’t gotten into that mindset. Unless you really have written a 100% self-insert character, they shouldn’t experience things exactly as you do, no. However, you have a basis to go off of already when you are describing their inner life; your own.

Maybe you have never been so wracked with grief that you collapsed, but you have been caught up in a significant loss of some sort that you can build upon. If you can better imagine what your muse’s experience is, you can describe it not only better, but also in a way that reads as legitimate. It’s not a description of grief that you could have gotten from anywhere else, doesn’t have cliché lines in it about grief, such as, “though he was drowning in an ocean of loss, he knew he had to be strong for his friends, so, he put on a brave face.” (There are other issues with that, but that’s a whole other post!)

My point is, you have the tools of accurate inner life within you, and you should use them to build that accuracy in your writing. Again, play with the words and structure, make sure you are building the feelings or otherwise being immersive about them. Keep them throughout the thread, do not have a muse magically become the opposite of what you’ve described because it is no longer convenient, and do not forgo little reminders that the muse feels the way they do, no matter what their actions might be saying.

When you describe your muse’s actions that are being influenced by an emotion, good or bad, use words that evoke the emotion while describing those actions.

If the muse is very sad, do not use words that bring to mind vivacity and passion. Don’t use metaphors that bring to mind those same things. Your muse doesn’t slink like a jungle cat to the table when depressed, but they might move in a daze, like a shadow, or a have to put maximum effort into their every step as though heading to their own execution.

I don’t think anyone should describe, let alone to an extreme, every action their muse undertakes, but when you are imparting these things with emotional tone or thought processes, it really shouldn’t be done. It’s exhausting for you to write, and just as exhausting for your reader, who is very likely going, okay, we get it, she’s angry. Like the descriptions of the surroundings, try to keep it to important and telling actions. You needn’t describe your muse’s every eye movement, but if they are so embarrassed they’re having trouble keeping eye contact, or so annoyed they glare, that is a description you want to add.

Writers never seem to forget facial expressions or dramatic body movements, which is reasonable, considering how visual a species humans are, but quite often forgo tone of voice and word pronunciation entirely. These are great ways to denote what your muse is feeling. Consider how your muse speaks most often, whether they work at proper pronunciation and hiding an accent, or if they simply let their most natural speech flow. Then, consider how different emotions might impact that. I’m not talking about the only go-to many muns on tumblr have, the “my muse speaks -first language here- when angry” thing. I’m talking about your muse entering into any emotion strongly enough to drop crisp pronunciation, outright mess up familiar and easy words, stumble, stutter, or pause. Write emotion into your muse’s speech, and don’t keep it to adding things like, “said angrily.”

That’s telling, not showing, and is the death of descriptive writing of any sort.

Doing any of the above in a document is highly recommended. Not only are you less likely to encounter tumblr eating your drafts as you work on them, you have more freedom to open it up later and play around with the structure. Additionally, writing directly on the platform can be distracting in more ways than just the desire to dash scroll! It can make you feel like you need to be doing what you owe instead, need to be responding to messages, posted memes, comments. Taking it off site feels more like your own space and time for experimentation.

I know this was long, and covered many points (though, it could always use more). So, I’m going to kind of rehash some below!

For learning and inspiration:

read things both familiar and not in order to figure out what sort of descriptions speak to you, then practice doing them yourself

read a variety of works, not just books, and not just new books; oftentimes, the lessons in older books will stand out to you even more for using descriptions that are no longer common. Those lessons still hold, like the very act of using common, highly recognizable objects and settings to describe a person, place, or thing. In those cases, see what you can rewrite that would give the same feeling using things that are currently so recognizable

don’t count out things like music and poetry, they flow with emotion and it is imperative that they give emotion and setting in unique ways

use ask/starter memes, pictures, and even common situations occurring around you to experiment with both writing descriptions and getting into your muse’s mindset

think on your own experiences with your environment and emotions

consider how your muse’s perceptions may change based upon thoughts and emotions, and/or how you can describe the setting to reflect and drive home these factors

really get to know your muse by exploring headcanon memes, giving yourself a refresher on their canon (yes, even if you wrote it), and comparing and contrasting your experiences with your muse’s on the same topics

experiment with new words, their use, and their flow

seriously, practice! Outside of writing you intend for anyone else to ever see!

Things to Remember:

you are unique as a person, therefore, you are unique as a writer...and that is a good thing, you just need to find what works for you

describe things that are important in setting the scene in ways that are not just visual; be emotive, and pick things that have bearing on the immediate topic

don’t forget that your muse’s voice and spoken words use can, and should be, impacted by thoughts and feelings

just like you, your muse is unlikely to see the same objects in the same light under any manner of strong emotional influence

also just like you, who is saying something and in what context is extremely important in how your muse reacts internally and how that is presented externally; if your muse feels and reacts the same way no matter the other party, they’re a little cardboard and you’re not being descriptive or thoughtful enough

listen, if you just really need to describe something utterly irrelevant to live another second? That’s fine, but you need to make it relevant. Perhaps, your muse noticed the cracks on that rock because they’re in an altered state - be that by way of a substance, or an emotion

there is a reason why we use clichés, and I am not going to say they should never be used, just that you should try to be more creative with them, and they should always be viable ones that truly match the mood

the same is true of words, we have some words that are just so commonly expressive of sensations and emotions that they come up quite often, but again, try to find something similar if possible, and always make sure it’s still evoking the right thing

I repeat: get in touch with your muse, even if you do not write them from first person. The language you use as a writer to describe them and their world is better if it feels like them

no support for tumblr’s anti-wordiness, but huge support for optimizing word use for maximum impact

to that end, if you’re a RPer, even a fic writer, please know that your desire to write descriptively isn’t going to be appreciated by some people. That’s their fucking loss, and you are better off without them. You will find the audience that will properly appreciate what you’re doing!

I hope some of this helped to give you some starting points you might not have thought of!

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 5

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  (Papyri Harem) Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Underfell)/Reader, Papyrus (Underswap)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader,  Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader

Characters:  Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), Blue (US Sans), Stretch (US Pap), Sans (Undertale), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Add. Notes: Reader Is POC - mainly mixed/black coded with thick curly hair. I try to keep descriptions vague. Anyone is welcome to read.

*Papyrus has a moment to himself. Enter Sans, Blue, and Stretch. Edge proposes a toast.

**EDITED SINCE TUMBLR MIXED UP THE PARAGRAPHS

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

Papyrus was practically beaming at the opportunity he had caught by the horns that morning.  What a spectacular way to start his day!  He’d been only a little worried that she might shoot down his idea.  Okay, he had been very worried.  Especially considering she had explained she planned to do chores today as well.  Thank goodness, his brilliant mind was in tip top shape today!  And he didn’t have the little human here to fluster him.  It had also been lucky that Blue was there.  The excitable version of his brother had been quite eager to help him convince her to come over once he realized who he was texting and what was going on.

“REMIND HER HOW MUCH SHE LOVED OUR MASTER BATH!”  “SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE PAMPERING HERSELF AND RESTING.  CHORES ARE NEITHER OF THOSE!”  “WE CAN ASSIST HER WITH THOSE CHORES IF THEY REALLY NEED TO BE DONE…”  “TELL HER I’LL GET MY BROTHER’S HOODIE FOR HER!”

That last suggestion he remembered had resulted in a long pause before Blue had laughed awkwardly under Papyrus’s questioning and only slightly judging gaze.  His judgemental gaze was soon pulled to his phone as she had replied with a wide-eyed emoji and then stars and then finally: 

Fluffy:  Promise?

He didn’t know whether to be impressed by Blue or disappointed in his friend that it had taken the simple promise of a hoodie to get her to agree so quickly.  Was it because it was Stretch’s specifically?  There was no way to tell since they had not offered anyone else’s clothing.  It stung for some reason.  Idly, he rubbed at his sternum to ease the odd pain away as he sent a reply back. 

CoolDude:  THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND MALEFICENT BLUE! NEVER BREAK A PROMISE.

CoolDude:  WE’LL BE OVER IN JUST A FEW MINUTES TO PICK YOU UP

Fluffy:          Could you give me thirty?  

Fluffy:          I need to get dressed and pack a bag.

CoolDude:  OFCOURSE!  SEE YOU SOON!

Needless to say, it wasn’t long after the two had convinced her to come over that the whole household was made aware they would have a guest today in the family group chat.  Blue had run off to find his brother with a promise to come back in time to go.   Papyrus assumed he was going to try and convince his brother to give up his hoodie for the day.  They technically didn’t need it till later though.  Most likely she would be rushing off to the bathroom as soon as she stepped foot into their home.

Pocketing his phone, he settled into finishing the task Blue had been helping him with.  There were only a few more dishes left to clean from their late breakfast--brunch?  Was it still technically too early for brunch?  Shrugging, he lost himself in cleaning and tried not to watch the clock obsessively.  So hyper focused, he didn’t notice his brother shortcutting into the kitchen just beside him.

○●○●○●○●○

Sans just watched Papyrus currently wiping at the same spot on the counter for what seemed the umpteenth time.  “hey, bro, think you missed a spot,” he finally decided to make presence known.  He was rewarded with very on brand screech as his taller sibling nearly jumped through the ceiling in surprise.  Quite a feat considering they had purposely high ceilings.  

“SANS!!!”  Sans’ lazy perma smile just perked up as his brother stomped a foot and crossed his arms, sockets narrowing.   “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT USING SHORTCUTS IN THE HOUSE?!”  Papyrus scolded, foot tapping away.  

“not to,” he answered without a care.  His tone said it all.   He’d do it again and again.  This was a war Papyrus would not win.  He bit back a laugh as his brother just sucked in a breath, palms pressed together in a praying motion in front of his teeth.  “aw, paps, come on, it’s not that bad,” he pleaded playfully.

“YOU ARE CORRECT,” Papyrus started and Sans arched a brow bone in mild surprise, “IT’S NOT THAT IT’S BAD.  IT IS SIMPLY FRUSTRATING THAT YOU HAVE TWO PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL LEGS AND YET, YOU FIND EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO NOT USE THEM!” 

Sans just smiled in turn and that smile just stretched wider as he watched his brother literally flinch and glare even harder.  “NO.”  His sockets were practically curling with how big his smile was getting as Papyrus continued to command him to cease.  It was too late though.  It was already in motion.

“just trying to get a leg up on life, bro.”  It was like music to his nonexistent ears as Papyrus screeched that signature NYEH! of his.  He would have tossed a few more puns his brother’s way, but… “so, what has your spine in a twist?”  While he could guess what had his brother stressing--considering a certain human was visiting today--it did not hurt to ask.

His brother’s lazy pun had done its job to lighten his mood significantly.  He had expected more, but instead Sans had thrown a curveball.   The question was sobering.   He wasn’t stressed.  He wasn’t worried.  He wasn’t… right?   Picking up the rag he had used to clean the counters, he brought it to the sink and started ringing it out.  “MY SPINE IS PERFECTLY ALIGNED AS USUAL, SANS,” he replied, tossing the rag in to a small hamper just outside the connected laundry room.

Silence followed and he could feel his brother’s eyelights boring into his back.  “uh huh…” Yeah, that tone said he hadn’t believed a word of it.  Rather than pushing with words, his brother had settled for simply staring and tapping at the counter.  It was a battle of wills at this point.  

Just as the tapping of his brother’s phalanges against the countertop was starting to tick away his resolve, the tension was shattered as Blue reentered the kitchen with his own brother in tow.  Papyrus could hear the energetic version of  his brother nagging at his lazy self to wash his hoodie before lending it out.  Finally turning around, he aimed a bright smile at the swapped brothers; pointedly, he ignored his brother’s judging gaze.  “BLUE, I SEE YOU’VE SUCCEEDED IN CONVINCING YOUR BROTHER!” he declared, marching up to the two. 

A little amused huff escaped Blue, “DIDN’T TAKE MUCH CONVINCING HONESTLY,” he admitted.

“OH?” Papyrus looked to Stretch for elaboration and the other just gave an easy shrug.

“little miss has been eying my hoodie for a good bit,” he stated, an amused lilt to his voice, “was honestly surprised she never tried to sneak it or ask for it before now.”   

“SHE DIDN’T ASK FOR IT,” Papyrus found himself saying before he could think better of it.  It wasn’t a lie, but why did it feel like he said something mean.  That odd feeling was pressing at his sternum again.  

Stretch simply rolled the lollipop held in his jaws from one side to the other.  The hard candy clicking gently at the back of his teeth as he leveled a seemingly unbothered stare on his doppelganger, but Papyrus knew no matter how much the slouching brother seemed to act like his brother, he was still a Papyrus and Papyri were more observant than they often let on.  He knew those honey colored eye lights were searching for every little cue to put together the puzzle put before him.  

“THAT IS TRUE.  I DID OFFER IT,” Blue cut in, a shared moment of eye contact between the older brothers missed by the younger.  

 A little hum could be heard from Stretch as he straightened up with a roll of his shoulders in a mock stretch.  “hadn’t meant it to come off like that so let me reword,” he started with a short chuckle.  “she’d been wishing on all our sweaters and hoodies,” he amended, his lazy smile pulling up at the corners as he now had to look slightly down at his doppelganger without his usual slouch.

That ugly, heavy feeling wasn’t pressing as insistently after Stretch’s words.  “OH…” Papyrus hoped his voice came off as neutral.  Sadly, he could feel his magic betraying him as his cheekbones warmed.   

“you all can’t tell me you’ve never noticed,” he challenged the room, finally breaking his staredown with Papyrus as he looked to the other two occupants.

 Sans was the first to input his agreement with a shallow nod as he leaned on the counter.  “she tries to be subtle about it,” he remarked, an easy smile on his face as he rested his chin against his palm, “sneaking little glances here and there, dropping little hints…” His sockets closed with a happy curve as his deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he remembered the offhanded questions and shy beating around the bush their friend opted for instead of simply asking outright to borrow one of their jackets. 

Opening his sockets, he resumed watching his brother.  His light pink flush had dimmed and he had lifted a hand up to his mouth, digits curled as he seemed to be thinking.  He just smiled more as Papyrus seemed to be relaxing as he worked through his thoughts.  The more anecdotes they shared, the more his sockets seemed to widen with understanding.  

“LET’S NOT FORGET SHE HAD TRIED ACQUIRE YOUR SWEATER JUST LAST NIGHT, CREAMPUFF.”  Edge’s voice cut through the chatter.  They had all jumped and seemed to move as one to look at the sharp skeleton currently shutting the fridge door.  When had he come in?  Had they been so engrossed they had somehow missed him coming in?  Edge just smirked smugly at all of them as he carried the carafe of lemonade over to the island.

Sans just chuckled and turned his attention back to his brother.  His brow bones perking as he saw Papyrus’s smile wasn’t strained anymore and his tense posture had fled.  A glance to Blue and the other gave him the tiniest shrug before following it with a sneaky thumbs up.  Yeah, everything was good again.  Let’s not question it for now.  “hey, bro, don’t cha have a guest to pick up?” he commented.

The energetic duo both looked to the clock on the wall. A rather impressive synchronized gasp left the two. “NYEH!” “MWEH!” “WE’RE LATE!!”  The smaller skeleton just barely managed to catch the taller by the hand as he went to dash out the door.  “SORRY, PAPYRUS!  NO TIME FOR THAT!” Blue rushed out an apology before the smell of ozone filled the kitchen and barely a second later they were gone. 

○●○●○●○●○

“hey, Edge, mind pouring me a glass of that lemonade?” Stretch had settled at the island with a hopeful smile.  

   His request was met with a huff as Edge opened the cabinets above and retrieved a glass for himself, “POUR YOURSELF ONE, ASH TRAY.”  

The orange clad skeleton just hummed  around his lollipop before grabbing the sweet, honey flavored treat by it’s stick and removing it from his mouth.  “aww, why not?  you poured one for Sans there and he didn’t even ask,” he pouted playfully, gesturing to Sans who was nursing his glass of lemonade  just beside him. 

“don’t have to ask when you’re-” Both Papyri still in the room shot him a warning glare before he could even finish and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.  “fine, fine , tough room,” he joked.  Edge just rolled his eyes, while Stretch let his glare linger a bit longer to make sure Sans didn’t try to sneak it in.

“I REFUSE TO WATCH YOU RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD GLASS OF LEMONADE AGAIN,” the sharper skeleton stated as he poured his own glass and took a sip, sighing at the refreshing taste.  

Stretch feigned insult, “i’m not the only one who puts honey in their lemonade, edgelord.”

“NO, BUT I WOULDN’T SAY YOU ARE PUTTING HONEY IN LEMONADE WITH YOU,” Edge started, wrinkles forming on his nose ridge in disgust as he spoke, “NO, WITH YOU IT IS MORE ACCURATE TO SAY YOU PUT LEMONADE IN YOUR HONEY.”  He took a long sip like he could taste the sticky sweetness on his tongue and needed to wash it down.  

“you got me there,” Stretch popped his lollipop back in his mouth and settled in, laying against the counter with a resigned sigh.  He could hear Edge grumbling about how of course he was right.  Rolling his lollipop, he moved his attention back to Sans.  The prime doppelganger had simply been sitting quietly with an easy smile on his round skull.  As if sensing Stretch’s stare, his white eyelights locked with honey colored ones. 

“need something, pal?” The words held no threat or warning, just an invitation to ask away.

“what was up with your brother earlier?” Stretch already had a guess.  He just wanted confirmation at this point. The stout skeleton apparently had no plans to play along and just shrugged noncommittally.

“no clue what you’re talking about, Stretch,” Sans replied, finishing off his lemonade with a satisfied sigh, “thanks for the drink, Edge.”  He sent a genuinely thankful smile Edge’s way before the smell ozone once again filled the room and an empty glass was abandoned on the countertop before a now empty seat.

Edge fought down a smile that tugged at his teeth.  It wasn’t too hard with Stretch still in the room though.  Currently, the laidback skeleton was watching him with a curious look. “WHAT?” he snapped, scowling as a knowing grin was aimed at him.

“you’re in on it,” the other stated matter of factly.

“I AM IN ON NOTHING. AND QUIT THAT CLUELESS ACT,” Edge snipped, crossing his arms with a cocked hip, “I WAS THERE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOUR POSTURING EARLIER.”  It had been a surprise to see the usually passive skeleton standing to his full height and purposely towering over their prime version.  He cut off Stretch’s denial with a sharp growl, “I WON’T LISTEN TO BULLSHIT, STRETCH.”

Stretch just gave a defeated chuckle as he sat up in his seat.  “two for two today, Edge.  you’re on a roll,” he commended. 

Edge didn’t see nor hear any regret from his alternate.  The two simply took a moment to stare each other down.  A silent measuring up before the standing skeleton reached up into the cabinets and set down a new glass.  Curious honey eyelights watched as a lemonade was poured to only fill half the glass before it was slid over to him with a gentle push.  

 “what’s this?” Stretch questioned.  He leant forward in his seat and tilted his skull as he shifted his stare from the half full glass to Edge who was refilling his own.

“LEMONADE,” he answered smartly and Stretch didn’t bother restrain his rolling eyelights.

“i can see that.”

“THEN WHY ASK?” 

“you know that’s not wh-”

“JUST FILL IT WITH YOUR INFERNAL HONEY ALREADY,” Edge snapped, cutting Stretch off with an impatient scowl.  

Knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with his darker counterpart, he fished in his pullover pocket and pulled out his signature bear shaped honey bottle.  Snapping the top, he upended the bottle over the glass and squeezed.  The viscous, thick amber liquid cut through the pale white lemonade and pooled at the bottom of the glass.  It took a minute to build the thick layer he wanted and once he was done, Edge handed him a spoon begrudgingly to stir his monstrosity.  Finished, he looked to Edge again questioningly only to see the other holding up his glass.  The sharp toothed skeleton had a cocky smirk on his skull, “IF YOU’RE SERIOUS ABOUT THAT CHALLENGE EARLIER, JUST KNOW YOU HAVE COMPETITION.”

Stretch was sure his jaw was on the floor as he realized what was going on.  He had known the tougher skeleton was soft on their human, but he hadn’t thought it went further than platonic interest.  That only left Willow and Mutt from the Papyri who seemed to show no romantic interest.  At least he hoped.  That may change considering today was the day for surprises.  Sucking in a breath, he sat up and raised up his own glass, tapping it against Edge’s with a less intense smirk of his own.  “noted,” he acknowledged, “but the true competitor is Creampuff, ya know.  you’ve seen those two together.”  

Edge nodded.  It was hard to miss the looks those two often sent to each other.  It could be absolutely suffocating at times to be in the same room as them when they start acting sweet and fluffy.  He took a moment before tapping his glass against Stretch’s for a second time, “A SECOND TOAST TO THE IDIOTS FINALLY WAKING UP,” before they each took a sip of their respective drinks.  

[hes-writer]

Exclusive Content

this is a master list of all one shots, blurbs, series parts, and unfinished content that i have posted on patreon (so far)! click the title to read the sneak peek (if i’ve posted one)

———

*+VALENTINE’S DAY

the one where harry has an eventful day

“Shit! Are you crazy?” Y/N gasped in surprise when the passengers seat was occupied, the door opening and slamming shut all while the car moved at a speed of 15 km/h —cursing her forgetfulness for not clicking the locks shut.

“Keep driving!” The passenger shouted, looking back through the windshield.

* ACHY BACK

the one where y/n’s back hurts and harry draws a bath

“Took too long,” Y/N mumbled as they met in the middle, knuckling tiredly at her eyes. A pout sat on her face as Harry stopped himself from ducking his head and catching her plush lips with his, craving the sweet taste of her and her strawberry lip balm. Her arms wrapped around his snatched waist, halting his breath at the tightness of her embrace and settling for a kiss on her forehead, the scent of her shampoo wafting in his nostrils, knowing that she had taken a shower hours prior. Her back had been aching since then, the pain barely bearable for her stature, causing a crease in between his brows.

+ A LETTER TO THE MAN I’VE LOVED

the one where harry receives a letter from y/n

Is it really worth it to look back in retrospect about ‘what had been’ when she can think about ‘what could have been’ if both of them realized their faults? Granted, he was more resilient in that sense than her, but he was no better at the time. She made mistakes and it had haunted her to this day, practically killing her with each moment she spent without him by her side.

+ UNWAVERING (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

the one where harry cheats (another version of ‘a cheat’)

"I-I'm in a bit of a rush, baby.” He took a step back, increasing the distance between them. "I have a meeting today. Lots of work to be done," Harry responded his tone suggesting that he didn’t want to talk anymore. Y/N nodded to please him.

"Right. Maybe we can go out tonight to grab some dinner," She suggested, a hopeful glint in her eyes and he almost felt guilty for putting her at the back burner of his mind.  

"I really have to go, baby," Peeking his head around her frame, he spotted the untouched toast and apple juice resting on where he should be. "I'm sorry."

+ ALL I ASK

the one where feelings aren’t mutual and hearts are broken

“I don’t want to be scared of what will happen tomorrow or if all we have is right now because we’ll have nothing left but I am,” A sob ripped through his throat, emotions were heightened tenfold because she was so close yet so far and they were still Harry and Y/N but at the same time they weren't. They’ve changed over the span of one night. “All we have is tonight,”

* LITTLE PRINCE

the one where harry and y/n are 7-year olds

Harry gasped in horror, crouching to his knees and getting his knee dirty beside the girl.

"Y/N? Y/N! Are you okay? I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean for that to happen. I swear I wasn't mad at you, I was just jok- Why are you smiling?" Harry yelped, panic evident in his shrill voice. His hands wandered towards her face, tilting it left to right, up and down, searching for any visible and invisible injuries besides the bump on her forehead.

RENEGADE

the one where y/n teaches harry the ‘renegade’ dance

“What are y’doing?” Harry asked, his eyes wide as his large palms ruffled the fluffy towel on his damp curls. The steam from the bathroom escaped to your bedroom where you were panting with effort, your chest heaving so hard that the peaks of your breasts rose with each breath. 

“Uh, what are you doing?” You retorted slowly, hiding your hands behind your back were your fingers gripped your phone. Your thumb dug hard on the volume bottom, frantically trying to decrease the music from the phone speaker. 

DROP THE TOWEL (m)

the one where harry does the ‘drop the towel’ challenge

“Hey, babe,” He greeted, walking closer to you in a towel that made him feel liberated. You hummed in a silent greeting, giving him a smile before doing a double-take at his appearance. He dropped the towel on the floor, his length hanging proudly between his legs. 

You gasped at the sight, the knife clanging on the marble counter, “Ooh, hi there,”

He smirked cockily, watching your eyes observe his body, tongue subconsciously peeking out between your lips until you snapped your head to the window, “Oh my god! There are people out there, Harry,” You wailed in alarm, bending over to hand him his towel.

DREAM WITH ME (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

the one where y/n has trouble falling asleep

Harry’s admiration gets interrupted when a sudden jolt took over Y/N’s body. He dropped his mouth open a little in shock, rubbing her back soothingly when she whimpered quietly, “Shh, it’s okay. You’re safe with me,” She must have had experienced one of those moments when she was falling until her vision drooped to a shaded black. 

DIGRESS (1) PROGRESS (2) REGRESS (3) 

the one where love fails

What happens when love fades away? How do you cope with the feelings disappearing slowly like a blot of dark blue paint diluting with every stroke of a ruffled paintbrush? Y/N wondered if there was a chance to fixing what has been lost--what has disappeared as the canvas soaked through in a permeated osmosis. Coating the brush of blue with white paint took several layers to completely cover the mistakes. There had to be an effort in wanting to make the faults and errors completely opaque from the eye; the bleary, watery irises soaked with tears, dampening her lashes in a thick haze as she cried.

ROUTINE (1) (the first part will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus. following parts will be patron-exclusive content)

the one where harry is a camboy

In a blink of an eye, Harry’s toned body was showcased on the screen, allowing him to view what his viewers had the pleasure of seeing. The ‘LIVE’ sign blinked repeatedly.

“Hello,” Harry drawled out purposefully using a deeper tone to set the mood. “How are you today?” His fingers stayed hung over the armchair, griping it slightly when comments started rolling in.

NOTES ON CAMP (1) (2) (3) (exclusive content as of right now) - this fic will be posted on Tumblr when I return from my hiatus

Y/N plastered a smile on her face as she shook Belle’s hand. “Sorry but I need to steal Harry away,” Belle tugged on his tattooed arm, fingers clasping around his wrists as he started walking along with her. “See you, Y/N!” Harry greeted, turning around with his arm draped over Belle’s shoulder.

“See you,” She whispered under her breath, looking at his retreating figure towards the cafeteria. Y/N couldn’t help the disappointment she felt, her shoulders slouching at the realization that it was too good to be true. Of course, he had a girlfriend.  A gentleman with chiselled features and a caring personality complimenting her? No way. Still, she wasn’t too sad about it. It wasn’t like they’ve known each other for long. Plus, they were co-workers! It would feel wrong to start a relationship anyway.

STRESSED OUT

the one where y/n is stressed and harry wants her to take a break

“What d’ya mean I don’t get it?” He closed the paperback, making sure to clip in his bookmark to save his spot.

A pregnant pause slithered the room. Her fingers typing against the keys of her laptop ceased as she shot him a glare, “You’re not studying, are you? All you do is write songs, fiddle with a few instruments and sing it in front of people who adore you,”

Harry physically pulled his chest back. He felt like he had been shot. He knew she didn’t mean it though, but it still hurt to hear, “O-oh. I didn't know y-you felt that way,”

She continued, “You don’t know what it’s like having to spend hours researching so you don’t get anything wrong. Sleepless nights to perfect one paragraph that my professor nitpicks to the bone,” Y/N penned a few words on her notebook, not noticing the pout plastered on Harry’s face.

DESSERT

the one where harry wants something else

She pulled away, shaking her head adamantly, “No way! I spent all day cooking and you’re not gonna skip it just to eat my pussy,”

He the corners of his eyes squinted in offence at her description, “Your pussy’s top tier, baby.” Harry ‘tsked’ his tongue, “If yeh didn’t know that already, then I’m doing a horrid job,”

PET NAME

the one bff!harry just wants y/n to call him by his pet name

“Am I, Harry? Seems like you’re putting me at the back burner nowadays,”

He was speechless; had he? Harry didn’t mean to make her feel this way but he wasn’t aware that he was actively blowing her off for Ruby. And why won’t she call him ‘honey’? That was his nickname, wasn’t it? H stood for Harry but it was also the pet name Y/N had given him.

His voice emulated a soft, syrupy tone that lingered in the air whenever he spoke. He was the colour honey itself--golden and yellow like the colour of the sun. Harry was bright in its sense of intelligence and the way he illuminated the whichever room he entered. His kindness catered to everyone’s needs and left pieces of his heart wherever he went.

Harry was honey.

ROOMMATES SERIES (3) (4) (5) (6)

the one where harry and y/n are roommates

updates every 2 weeks!

will not be posted on Tumblr until the series is finished

Y/N gasped at Harry’s proximity, lids snapping open with her hand reaching over to pat along until she found her phone which was blaring with an alarm that she had set. Harry gulped, eyes wide as his mind ran through what the hell just happened.

“What are you doing here? Get out!” She yelled, tugging the sheets higher on her body. 

“I-I was just waking you up so you can make us dinner,” Harry stuttered out, his excuse sounding lame but he patted himself on the shoulder for making it up on the spot. Well, that was his intention in the first place until he got distracted.

FRIENDS DON’T MINI-SERIES (1) (2) (3)

“Is this okay?” Her doe irises searched his. Harry raised his head lazily to make eye contact, nodding his head with a bit lip. Y/N clenched her inner thighs together at his already blissed-out state, his pupils slowly becoming larger with arousal. “Friends don’t touch each other this way,” She purposefully drew out her statement, giving Harry an out of the situation if he needed to.

“More than okay,”

FIC EXTRAS #1 - TEASE

the one before ‘under the table’

“Fuckin’ dirty,” He spat, the pads of his thumb tracing circles on her hipbones, not feeling a trace of clothing resting on her hips. “Wearin’ a short dress with no panties,”

Y/N hummed, arms slanting behind her to support her upper body so that she could spread her legs further, making room for Harry’s hand. “Didn’t feel like it,”

“Y’just waiting for me to find out, hmm? You knew I couldn’t resist myself when you look so goddamn pretty,”

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #1

the one with fratboy!harry

“Y’alright?” Harry’s husky breath barely made its way to her ears, only then did Y/N feel the hand palming her lower back, another one gripped around her shoulders. Her front flushed against his own, feeling his hard chest on her heaving ones. She peeked one eye open, looking around at her angled stance, then to Harry who wore a concerned look scanning her face. Y/N nodded in response, blinking rapidly, her nipples hardening at a sudden cold breeze beneath the thin fabric of her dress, surely poking him through his shirt. She blushed at the thought and his brief glance over her where they touched, his eyes dilating the tiniest amount.

UNFINISHED DRABBLE #2

the one where harry’s a cheating asshole

Harry wormed his way through his delectable voice and his ever-present words that somehow scorched your shield to the ground. Again. He promised never to do it again and your love-sick heart trusted him. Again. 

But your trust wasn’t something that was particularly valuable to him. To Harry, it would always be there, lingering like the stars in the night sky; always present, always gleaming. Harry was very sorry for what he was doing to you. It was ironic, really; he hoped and prayed every day that you wouldn’t find out but his carelessness left everything out in the open.  

TEXT MESSAGES #1

the one where y/n has silly thoughts

TEXT MESSAGES #2

the one where harry and y/n share the same class 

[justpeachii]

Pairing: Sugawara Koushi x Female Reader 

Summary: After getting bored with your love life, you download one of those silly dating apps. However, things don’t go as planned, leaving you crying in your best friends arms.

Genre: College AU (Juniors), angst, comfort, platonic, mutual pining but both are dumb, kind of a cliche ending but :’)

Warnings: profanity and that is all.

Word Count: 3.2 K

Author’s Note: hello! This is my first fic here on the good ole tumblr and i hope you enjoy it! This was very much (sadly) based off of real life events and really just something i wanted to write to get my feelings out. i do suggest listening to the little playlist below while reading because not only were they what i listened to while writing, but also what got me through it (along with some great friends). Also uh… i didn’t expect this to be this long hehe YIKES. Anyways, enjoy! (also i’m SORRY TENDO he got the short end of the stick 😭 i’ll make it up i swear)

also tagging the lovely @noya-sannnn​ !! who inspired me to write this!!

Playlist

blame game (acoustic) by mxmtoon

Grow As We Go by Ben Platt

dream of you (acoustic) by mxmtoon

did it to myself by orla gartland 

ready now by dodie 

Comfort Crowd by Conan Gray

Late nights were always the worst. Between the endless torrent of thoughts or the overwhelming amount of homework, sleep was a luxury you could hardly afford. Afterall, juggling not only 18 credit hours of classes, a part-time job, and work projects for your major was not the norm, but for you, it was. 

Not only was sleep something you often overlooked, but love was as well. That is until one night you decided to download one of those silly dating apps on one of those late nights. After choosing a few of your best selfies and creating a fun little bio, you got to swiping.

Left. Left. Left. Pause. Scroll profile. Left. Pause. Scroll profile. Pause. Right.

It’s a Match!

After a moment of hesitation, you closed out of the message prompt, continuing to swipe and scroll before feeling the weight of sleep upon your eyelids. 

It had been two months since matching with Tendo Satori. Two months full of laughter, late nights at each other’s apartments, and confessions of love. Or at least what you thought was love. What started as a spark had grown to the size of a wildfire, burning inside your chest. A newfound love so strong it made your heart ascend to the highest of places.

However, what goes up must come down. 

While you would like to believe it was sudden, all the warning signs were there. Him growing distant, opening texts but not responding, cancelling plans last minute; the list goes on. The one thing that was sudden was the text you received before class.

Of course this would happen to you fifteen minutes before a two hour lecture. The last thing you would want to see: a paragraph of half-assed excuses followed up by “i just don’t think im ready for a relationship”.

You wanted to scream, throw your phone against the concrete, cause a scene, but you didn’t. As the tears began to flow, you scrolled on your phone for your most trusted friend, pressing on the call button next to their name. 

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Y/n? Don’t you have class soon? What’s going on?”

At this point, you were holding back sobs, voice coming out in a quiet whisper as you held the phone to your ear with a shaking hand.

“Suga… I have class in a few, but I- he-” you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words. What would you tell him after all? While you and Tendo had never put a label on it, it still felt like a break-up. 

“He? Y/n, are you okay?” There was a faint rustle on his end of the line, the sound of him putting his shoes on. “Can you take a few breaths for me? Take your time, I’m here when you’re ready to talk.” 

Doing as he said, you took a few snot-filled breaths before managing to get the tears to stop falling. While you did so, you found a spot outside the lecture hall, sitting beneath a tree and leaning your head against its trunk, letting your eyes close. 

“He ended it. Tendo… He texted me saying all this stuff of how he was sorry for pushing me away and that he wasn’t ready for a relationship.” You said in a firm voice. It was as if you were willing yourself to be strong for his sake, not wanting to worry him more than he was. 

There was a pause from Sugawara as he processed what you had just said. When he spoke, his tone was bitter, one you rarely heard.  

“That piece of shit. Over a text! He didn’t have the decency to call you or, hell, even set up a dinner or something!” He gave a sigh followed by a beat of silence. “I’m so sorry, Y/n… I know it is probably the dumbest question to ask, but are you okay?”

“Not really, but I have to be since I have class in,” you glanced at your watch, groaning, “six minutes. I don’t really want to go, I just want to go home, curl up in my blanket, and cry.”

While your heart was breaking over some boy you had known for a couple of months, Sugawara Koushi’s was breaking for you. Not only was he your closest friend since you transferred to the same university, he was also head-over-heels for you. When you mentioned to him the dates, he feigned happiness for your sake, supporting you through all of it. Now, hearing you in shambles on the other end of the phone made him want to run to you, pull you into an embrace, and give you the world.

Sadly, he couldn’t do what he wished. He knew your professor had a strict attendance policy, which meant that you would have to sit in class for two hours with a broken heart. Two hours for him to prepare as much of the world as he could. 

“I know this is one of the last things you want to hear right now, Y/n, but I know it will get better. If your professor didn’t have such a stick up his butt you would be able to skip without a problem.” As your friend spoke, the tears began to fall once more, your free hand coming up to swipe them away. 

“I know it won’t be for another two hours, but after your class, do you want to come over and we can have a movie night? We don’t have to talk about anything, just watch Tangled or Your Name.”

It took you a minute to find your voice once more, the ball of despair tight in your throat, leaving you to silently nod. Then you find your voice.

“I’d like that, Suga… I’d love it, in fact. I just… I don’t want to be alone tonight, but I also don’t want to bother you and I know-”

“You know you’re never a bother. Trust me, Y/n. After class, come over to my place. You can have my bed and I’ll take the couch.” His voice cut you off from finishing your thought, leaving your lips parted with an apology, a breath falling out in its place.

For the first time in the past nine minutes, you smiled. It wasn’t much, but Sugawara could hear it in your voice from the other side as you whispered, “Okay. Thank you, Suga. I love you, you know?” 

“I love you, too.” His own face was graced with a smile, though behind it he held all his emotions. How he wished to hear those words uttered in a non-platonic way. “Now get to class before you’re late! I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

While you were busy in class, both from note taking, group discussions, and trying your best to not break down any minute, Sugawara was busy in his own way. As soon as the phone call ended, he was out the door, making his way to the nearest convenience store, buying the essentials for healing a broken heart. Four pints of ice cream, a mix of his favorite flavors and yours, a couple bags of chips, some candy, and even a new stuffed teddy bear later, he was checking out, checking his phone constantly for the time, in case he had spent more time than he thought.

With his bags in hand, he made his way back to his apartment, getting everything set up for the movie night. While it wasn’t going to be a joyous occasion, he wanted it to have a happier atmosphere than what the topic of discussion would be. He placed the bags of chips and candy on the coffee table, the teddy bear placed between them; ice cream in the freezer for future consumption. Once the snacks were in place, he began to gather the softest blankets, grabbing your favorite along the way. 

Every time you would come over, no matter the temperature outside, he would find you curled up in it. One finals week while the two of you were cramming for an exam the next morning, he found you dozed off at the coffee table, the same fuzzy grey blanket wrapped around your shoulders. He even took a picture of you, asleep with your cheek in hand, other hand slack from writing notes that had since been abandoned. You still didn’t know about the picture to this day, but it was one he cherished. 

Time seemed to pass quickly as he finished getting everything together, not realizing the time until you knocked at his door. Answering it within seconds, he gave you a gentle smile, opening his arms for a hug he knew you desperately needed. That was all it took for the dam to break once more. As your arms wrapped around him, the tears fell in steady streams onto his t-shirt. 

His hands rubbed soothing circles on your back as he slowly shuffled backwards, pulling you two past the threshold, allowing him to close the door behind you. One hand rested on the back of your head, holding you close to his chest, the other in the middle of your back. The two of you stood there for what seemed like hours before you lifted your head, eyes red and puffy. Sugawara’s hand moved from the back of your head to hold your face, wiping away any remaining tears.

“Sorry for soaking your shirt.” you said with a small laugh, as you finally met his gaze. Warm, brown eyes full of nothing but comfort and safety met yours. There was a soft smile on his lips, while it was kind, it held a hint of sadness. 

“Don’t worry, I like my shirts soggy.” He said with a chuckle of his own. After making sure your face was dry of any tears, he nodded towards the living room. “Now come on, I have a little surprise for you!” 

After slipping your shoes off, you followed him into the living room, spotting the assortment of treats, along with the teddy bear. You swore you were done crying, but a few tears found their way out once more, but this time for a different reason. As you made your way to the coffee table, Sugawara disappeared to the kitchen, grabbing two pints of ice cream and spoons. When he reappeared, you were already curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, bear in your lap, and a few tears rolling down your face.

“You really didn’t have to do all of this, Suga. A movie and talking would have been just fine,” you said as he sat down next to you handing off your chosen flavor and spoon. He scoffed at your remark, gesturing with his spoon.

“And just fine isn’t good enough! No one deserves to be broken up with through a text. Especially you, Y/n. Why, the next time I see him, he better watch his back.” He said, his glare pointed off to the side.

“There will be no fighting him, okay? Physical or verbally. What happened is… What happened. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming when I could have if I just looked.” You said, opening up the pint and taking a spoonful. With a small huff, he copied your motions, a beat of silence falling between the two of you. 

The lull in conversation lasted for a little while as neither knew what to say. You didn’t want to speak anymore on what had happened, but it was eating away at you. Sugawara could tell it was, so finally he spoke, clearing his throat before doing so.

“I’ll listen,” he said, his gaze meeting yours. The look you gave him was almost that of a puppy that had been scolded. Hurt. Sad. “When you’re ready, I’ll listen. You can tell me everything, okay?”

The two of you sat in silence for a minute more before he decided to put on a movie, filling the void. By the halfway point, the two of you had finished your pints, the cartons since abandoned on the coffee table. The other snacks are left untouched. Finally, you turn towards him and take a deep breath.

“I’m ready now.”

Those three words were all it took for him to pause the movie and shift to face you. For the next two hours, you spilled your emotions to him, both the highs and lows of the two month endeavor. At some point, he had pulled you into his arms and between his legs, his back against the arm of the couch with you on his chest. Your tears soaked his shirt once more as his hands ran up and down your back. Soon, you found yourself asleep in his embrace, exhausted from emotions.

Sugawara looked down at your finally peaceful face, cheeks stained from tears. Carefully, he placed a kiss on the crown of your head, closing his eyes as he silently prayed he would never see you like this again. 

After that night, you and Sugawara started to spend more time together. Not only for study nights, but weekly movie watch nights, daily lunch meet-ups, and impromptu ice cream runs. 

The three months leading up to finals left your old feelings to return, but somehow stronger. While you had gotten over Tendo rather quickly (and likewise with him. Not a week after your “break up” he was in a relationship with someone else) you didn’t want to admit your feelings for your best friend. At least that was the plan until a particularly late night study session that had you banging your head against a textbook that lay on the coffee table. 

“You know you can’t actually cram the information into your memory, right?” Sugawara said with a chuckle. You groaned in response, wadding up a piece of paper and throwing it at him. He batted it away swiftly, leaning on his elbows.

“I know that, but what I don’t know is how I’m expected to memorize all of these algorithms in order to pass!” You whined, giving up as you flopped onto your back, tugging the blanket that was around your shoulders closer. From his spot across the table, Sugawara continued to type away on his laptop, stifling a yawn. 

Laying there, you looked up at the ceiling, thinking back over the past few months. Your mind wandered back to that one terrible day and the lengths that Sugawara had gone through to make sure you were alright. It brought a smile to your face as you closed your eyes, giving a soft sigh. This caught the grey-haired boy’s attention, looking away from his work to see you with the dumbest grin on your face. He couldn’t help his own from pulling at his lips.

“What are you thinking about over there? Doesn’t seem like it’s math by the smile on your face.” 

“You.”

Caught off guard, he blinked a few times before responding. You, however, hadn’t realized what you had said just yet. While it wasn’t wrong, it was very bold.

“Me? What about me?” He asked, his curiosity overpowering his nerves for the time being.

“How you surprised me that one night. Ice cream, snacks, a teddy bear… Your smile, how much you always seem to make me laugh, you good of a hugger you are… How much I think I love you.” As you listed things off, you grew quieter and quieter, your voice a whisper by the end. 

Sugawara’s heart felt like it had just gotten done running sprints after losing a match back in high school. He felt his cheeks flush as he shifted to better look over the table at you. Never had you said you loved him outside of a friendly manner and here you were, on his living room floor confessing your love for him. 

“You think… You love me, Y/n?” The breath that he had been holding exhaled in a sigh afterwards, only to be replaced with another as he waited for you to respond. 

It was then that you realized what you had said. Immediately, you felt your cheeks flush as you sat up with wide eyes, abandoning the blanket on the floor. Looking like a deer in the headlights, you searched his face for a sign of anything. What you found were cheeks as red as your own, a hint of excitement behind his eyes, and a semi-confused look plastered on his face. You felt it was as good a time as any to get it off the table. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“I do, Suga. And I have since the first semester of sophomore year and I never told you because I didn’t think you felt the same way or that things would get a little awkward between the two of us. I tried to just push the feelings away or ignore them, hoping they would go away, but they didn’t and I was too dumb to say anything.”

In the silence that followed, you prepared yourself for the worst. However, the worst didn’t come. Instead, a small string of laughter fell from his lips as the corners of his eyes crinkled, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

“Then we are both dumb, Y/n! I did all of those things for you that night because not only are you my best friend, but I truly do love you. It hurt seeing you like that and I knew I couldn’t tell you how I felt because it wasn’t right.” 

Letting out a sigh of relief, you moved back to the coffee table, placing your elbows on it before laying your hands flat on the surface. Soon, his hands found yours, thumb brushing against the back of your hands. With a small laugh, you gave a small shrug.

With a breathy laugh, you responded, “Even so, why didn’t either of us say something sooner! Then we would have avoided all of that to begin with.” 

Sugawara just shook his head, giving your hands a tight squeeze. “True, but that was the past. Where we are now is where we were meant to be. Like I told you, it got better.”

“It did, and it was all because of you.” Turning your hands over in his, you gave them a gentle squeeze, to which he returned.

“I love you, Y/n”

“I love you, too, Suga.”

[aerynwrites]

The Hidden (8)

Chapter 8: What The Future Holds

Author’s Note: okay y’all so Tumblr’s being a little bitch and making formatting a living hell for me lol. first it wouldn’t recognize the paragraph breaks from my word document so u had to fix that and NOW it won’t let me add a read more cut-off so i’m frustrated lol. BUT, I am happy with how this chapter turned out and I hope you guys are too! As always feedback is greatly appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! <3 (Apologies for any grammar errors, I’m at work and didn’t have time to fully proofread!)

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: fluff

Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight (here)

/////////

It had been almost two months since the whole commotion with the bounty hunters and your injury, and everyone seemed to be settled back in nicely. You were almost completely healed, but still felt some pain if you moved to violently, but with Dyn being by your side the whole time, it made things a lot easier. He had seemed more relaxed since that night, since you both kissed, and the following night when you did a bit more. You flushed at the memory of Dyn slipping the blindfold over your eyes. You were brought from your thoughts when the high pitched squeal of a child pierced the air. You quickly looked down from the pot of stew you were preparing over the fire and saw the child reaching his little hands towards you.

“What?” you asked, a smile adorning your features.

The child just smile up at you and babbles while vaguely grasping at the spoon in your hand, “Ah, you want to taste the food?” you chuckle and spoon out a small amount of soup from the pot and blow on it before leaning down and feeding him some, “here you go -hey!” you were not prepared for the child to take the spoon in his mouth and latch on like it was his life line.

He starts to toddle away as fast as his little legs will carry him. you have to stifle the giggle as you reach out your hand using the force to stop the child mid-step. You hear him let out a muffled noise of surprise as you hold him a few feet from the ground and walk towards him. you grab hold of him, releasing your invisible grip on him and tug the spoon from his mouth.

“It’s not going to disappear little one,” you assure as you sit him down once again to return to the stew, “It will be ready soon.”

You are about to return to stirring the meal when you feel something keeping you from moving the spoon any further. You furrow your brows together and go to move your hand again but it won’t budge. You look behind you to see the kid with his hand extended and eyes closed in concentration. You laugh at his antics and it seems to snap him out of his focus. He releases his grip on you and lets out a loud giggle as he falls back to the ground. You quickly scoop him up and let him watch as you continue to cook.

“He’s getting better,” a familiar voice speaks from behind you.

You turn around, a soft smile adorning your face as you see Dyn coming to crouch by you. you stop stirring and run your fingers over the child’s ears gently, “Yeah, he is. Since I’ve been trying to teach him he seems to have more endurance when it comes to using the Force.” You comment.

Since you had started to heal, and your secret was out to the other villagers since the attack you had been using your powers more flippantly, not feeling that you had to hide anymore. You had also been attempting to teach the child, which proved difficult when he couldn’t speak, but you were making progress. As you looked down at the large eyed child in your arms you were suddenly hyper aware of the fact he doesn’t have a name.

“We should give him a name,” you say looking over at Dyn.

You hear him heave a sigh, “I know, but I’ve never…done anything like this before.”

You chuckle and look back down at the green creature who is now tugging at you hair, “I was thinking the name Faylen, fits him well.” You say wincing slightly as he gives a particularly hard tug.

Dyn nods slowly, “Faylen,” he test out the name, “I like it,” he brushes a gloved finger along the child’s head which earns him a happy gurgle, “so now I guess I have to stop calling him womp rat?”

You let out a loud laugh head falling back slightly, “Yes, I think that would be best.”

You obviously can’t see him through the helmet, but Dyn’s features soften as you laugh, still entranced by each and every thing you do. Your laugh, your smile, the way you scrunch your nose when your frustrated, everything about you makes Dyn fall more in love each day. It also makes him dread the reason he came over here to speak with you. as if you read his thoughts you spoke up.

“Oh, did you need something love?” you turned to face him once again.

Dyn let out a soft sigh, “I think we need to leave,” he said finally, a hint of sadness behind his words.

Your eyebrows knit together and your heart clenches, “But why? It’s safe here, we’ve been fine here for the last few months and nothing has happened,” you tried to reason.

He shook his head and grasped your free hand in his own leather clad one, “I know but-“ he paused knowing that you liked it here, hell you had been living here for many years, “they know we’re here now and I’m just afraid that they won’t stop coming and they will come more prepared next time. I don’t want to put your people in danger any longer. And if-“ he has to force the lump in his throat away, “if you want to stay I understand, but I won’t put anyone else in danger because of my selfishness.”

You don’t say anything for a long time, you just look down at the child, and for a moment Dyn is worried that you won’t go with him, and all his plans for the future would turn to ashes. You finally look up at him a smile once again adorning your features and you squeeze his hand, “I’ve never truly felt at home here Dyn, I mean I have Ariah but she’s truly the only one who ever treated me as fully accepted here,” You glance around the small village as people mill about their days, you look back to the man you love and press a quick kiss to the metal of his helmet, “of course I’ll go with you Dyn.”

Dyn releases a huge breath as a giant smile crossed his face under his helmet, he pulls you into a tight hug causing you to let out a laugh once more, “I’m glad,” he says finally pulling away from you.

You squeeze his hand again before returning to stirring the stew, “When were you thinking we’d leave?”

“Within the week, at least give you time to say goodbye and pack.”

You nodded, a smile still stuck in your face, “Dinner will be ready soon, why don’t you go wash up? I don’t want stinky farm hands in my house.” You tease lightly.

A chuckle escapes Dyn’s lips and he stands sending you a mock salute, “Yes ma’am,” he says before retreating to the home.

You roll your eyes and look down at the child again, before grabbing the pot from above the fire and following Dyn to the house, “What am I going to do with him?” the child just lets out a curious sound, “Yeah I don’t know either.”

///

At first, after you and Dyn had finally confirmed your relationship, it was odd to eat in separate rooms or facing different directions. However now it was normal, as you and Dyn sat with your backs touching and facing opposite directions. You knew it took a lot of trust on his part to do this, to be in the same room with another person without his helmet and trusting that they won’t try to look. You both ate in silence only the occasional sound of clinking silverware and sounds from the child interrupting the silence, so you were surprised when you heard Dyn moving around behind you.

“Are you done eating already?” you had just dished out the stew so he must have been hungry.

The only response you received was two arms snaking around your waist. You gasped and quickly snapped your eyes shut as one of the hands took your bowl and set it aside, “Dyn, what are you doing?”

He doesn’t say anything as he lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and positioned you so you straddled his lap, “I just care about you so much,” he finally offers, voice cracking slightly.

With your eyes still shut you wrap your arms tightly around his midsection and lay your head in the crook of his neck, finally able to open your eyes. he speaks up again.

“I never thought that would have this,” he admits, pulling you tighter against him, “I never thought that I could wake up every day happy and excited to spend it with someone.”

You felt tears burn behind your eyes and you buried your face in his neck, “Oh Dyn,” you whispered leaving a chaste kiss to his neck, “I love you too.”

Dyn had yet to return the words, but he told you in other ways. In the words he said, or the things he did for you, or the quick kisses he would give you before you woke in the morning. You knew he loved you even if he didn’t say it directly. You continued to stay tangled together for several moments, relishing in the rare intimate moments you got to share before Faylen’s cooing brought you back to reality. You closed your eyes as he pulled away from you and donned his helmet once more. You frowned slightly as you opened your eyes and were met with the same beskar you had come to know. While you we’re not upset with him in anyway and you understood that it was The Way, you still longed to actually see the man you love. But you don’t push the subject. You look over to Faylen to see him holding his empty bowl out to you, you smiled and spooned a second helping into the small bowl and giggled as the child cooed happily.

“You know, for a tiny little thing he eats more than you do,” you comment.

Dyn lets out a chuckle and nods, “Yes he does, and I don’t even want to know what his appetite will look like when he gets older.”

You feign a shiver, “we’ll go broke trying to feed our kid,” you joked but stopped short when you say Dyn go rigid. You look to him questioningly.

“Our kid?”

Your eyes widen at the realization of what you said but then relaxed and you shrugged, “Well yeah. We’re together and we both take care of him, we’ve basically adopted him so…” you trailed off now self-conscious of your slip up.

But Dyn just hums lowly before picking up Faylen careful not to spill his food, “our kid…I could get used to the sound of that.”

You blush and duck to start cleaning up the dishes, silently admitting that you liked the sound of it as well.

///

The end of the week had come sooner than you had anticipated and you watched with a slightly heavy yet hopeful heart as Jaleer and some of the other villagers helped Dyn load up the razor crest with your belongings. You had donned your cloak, staff slung over your shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you so much!” Ariah nearly knocks you over as she throws her arms around you, squeezing the life out of you. you hug her back just as fiercely, “There’s nothing that says we won’t visit, or that you can’t visit us.” You assure.

You friend pulls away tears in her eyes, “I know…but now who’s going to help me put Jaleer in his place?” she whines.

You laugh and see Jaleer approach from the ship and sling an arm your shoulders, he had seemed to warm up to both you and Dyn after the whole Chroig ordeal.

“Well I for one am thankful for one less pest hanging around,” he jests rubbing your head playfully. You groan and shove his arms off of you, “Whatever you say Jaleer, I know you’re secretly going to cry when I leave.”

Jaleer rolled his eyes but brought you into a hug anyway, “You know you will always have a home here. If you ever need it.”

You nodded as you pulled away from Jaleer, not missing the newfound respect in his eyes, “I know.”

Dyn walks over and places a hand your waist, “Everything’s ready to go,” he looks over to Jaleer, “thank you again for letting me stay here, and I’m sorry for any ill I may have caused.”

Jaleer shook his head and shook the Mandalorians hand firmly, “Like I said, you both are welcome back anytime. Don’t be strangers.”

Dyn just nods before he looks to you, “You ready?”

You nod a smile creeping onto your face as you hug Ariah one last time before walking with Dyn onto the ship. You wave to the other villagers as they call out various well wishes before the ramp to the ship hisses closed, a certain finality behind it. You let out a small sigh and turn to see Dyn climbing up a ladder and you follow suit, you had never been on his ship until now surprisingly. You watched as he took a seat in the piolets chair and started up the ship. You looked around spotting Faylen sitting in one of the chairs and smiled before picking him up and placing him on your lap as you took his seat.

“So where are we headed? How long will it take us to get there?” you ask.

“It’s actually fairly close, but it’s a surprise.”

“Oh a surprise?” you wiggled your eyebrows, “What has come over you Dyn?”

The Mandalorian just shrugged his shoulders not giving you a definite answer before the ships lifts from the ground. You look out the window as the trees and landscape shrinks further and further away until you are among the stars. Even though you had been in space several times it never ceased to amaze you. You watched as the stars turned into blue-sliver streaks as the ship launched into hyperdrive and it felt like mere seconds before you were dropping out of it. When in reality it had been close to an hour, you were just too deep in though to realize. The planet you were approaching was not as green as you previous planet but it still had some green, with some brown and orange mixed in. And if you thought it couldn’t get any better your breath was sucked from your lungs as Dyn landed the ship near a small cottage nestled among rolling hills and plains. You held onto the child as Dyn grasped your hand and led you from the ship and towards the small, what looked to be a farm. As you approached the small cottage you felt tears well in your eyes, you had never seen a planet so beautiful and calm before. Apparently Faylen agreed because he seemed to let out and awe filled gasp.

“How did you – where did you-“you stumbled over your words, still In shock as you looked at the man beside you.

He shuffled nervously under your gaze, “I still have some connections with a friend that’s still with the Mandalorian’s and she was able to do this for me, for us.” You saw him raise his hands and grasp the rim of the helmet to remove it.

You once again close your eyes, confused as to why he was doing this now. You held Faylen tightly as you grasped for Dyn blindly, unable to find him.

“Dyn what are you doing?” You hear shuffling for a brief moment before a short stint of silence.

“Open your eyes.” his unmodulated voice meets your ears and confusion flow through you.

“But your helmet Dyn, I can’t-“

“Just open them,” he insists, “Please.”

You feel your heart racing, blood rushing in your ears. You were about to see Dyn, actually see him, and for a moment you were scared. This would ruin The Way. He wouldn’t be able to put the helmet back on again. But he’s asking you -no – begging you to look.

So you do.

You slowly peel your eyes open and your hand immediately shoots to your mouth to stifle the gasp that slips out. You quickly scan his face and immediately feel your heart flutter at the handsome man kneeling in front of you. His brown locks tousled from removing his helmet, and dark stubble adorning his face and warm brown eyes looking up at you, a nervous fear in his eyes – wait – Kneeling!

Your brain finally registers what is happening as you see the simple silver rings held delicately between two ungloved fingers. You look from the ring back to Dyn, your brain still trying to catch up with what is happening. But Dyn speaks before you can.

“(Y/N), I had a whole speech planned out, but as soon as you looked at me it flew out the window,” he chuckled nervously before clearing his throat, “You are the love of my life, you have brought me so much happiness and life since the day you saved me in those woods, and I know that we haven’t known each other that –“

“Oh shut up, you idiot, “ you blubber past your tears, “Of course I will!” you throw your free arm around him careful not to squish Faylen, as you nearly knock the man over.

Tears are streaming down your face as Dyn gently pulls away from you, his thumbs wiping away the wet tracks on your face. A watery smile crosses his face as he takes your hand in his own, slipping the ring over your finger.  You let out a breathy chuckle before looking at you future husband and crash your lips to his for what felt like the first time. Dyn smiles into the kiss as your lips move in sync, and it feels like fire is running through his veins. He pulls away from you somewhat reluctantly and rest his forehead on your own, and you rest your newly decorated hand on his cheek, a wide smile on your face once more.

“I love you Dyn Jarren.”

And for the first time Dyn says it back.

///// Tags: @readsalot73 @theforceofdarkandlight @stylelovechild @amazingiam00 @so-chee @candipuff​ @stillreadingfantasy​ @taman-a​ @kaelyn-lobrutto24​ @maryan028​ @cateyesinlove​ @dizzydazed​ @the-silentium​ @sinon36​ @somehow-lovable-trash​ @lirinchi​ @katialvi @junkersandroadies-son​ @osric-the-l3m0n-l0v3-demon​ @arwallace​ @tiredjedi @duckqueenzoe​ @mxrvel-fxnxtic​ @livasaurasrex​ (For some reason it won’t let me tag some people, I’m sorry!)

[ghostofpolaris]

Paid Deity Reading Review from @ad-astrum

This is a review I am doing out of my own will for a paid reading that was done by @ad-astrum ! I highly recommend you check Adelaide’s account out! She just is amazing. <3 Tis long so I am adding a cut-off to help. Please note that I am not being paid to say any of this and I want to be as honest as possible with this review! 

TW for: Long post, Personal Topics

To start, I (for a very long time) have been in a place where I was lost. I have had a lot of trials and tribulations in my life and where I know I have made some contact with the deities I (had) followed and worked with, I know I have not always been able to fully comprehend what is needing to be said. 

At least with these last six years, I have had so many ups and downs and quite a few times, I genuinely wondered what the point was in continuing onward with life. I had spent quite a lot of time even contemplating whether I was truly a “spiritual” person and worthy of being a witch. I hadn’t been able to keep up with my gifts I had been providing and I haven’t really done any spells. Maybe a few sigils were made here and there, but the unworthy feelings I harbored along with depression spiraling in from working 40 hours a week, being in school full time, and my mental and physical health continuing to drag me down. 

So, I got desperate as one does when left to their own devices after being paid a nice juicy paycheck and seeking answers and solidarity from others online. Though this was not the main reason I had sought for answers, it was a good portion of why. Primarily, I had noticed signs that were familiar to me, but also not. I had begun noticing crows coming in twos and occasionally threes, I noticed almost everything I turned to, would have some kind of Norse imagery or content involved, and quite a lot of it involved our beloved AllFather Odin. 

Now mind you, I NEVER saw myself as a Norse Pagan. I thought Loki and Thor were cool in the Marvel movies and myths, but I never exactly saw myself being a Norse Pagan. I also was never one for Greek Mythology and Hellenic Paganism either but here we are after receiving aid from Ares and Aphrodite a couple of times in my life. Truth be told, I was the kid that was (and still is) obsessed with the King Arthur myths and Celtic Paganism. I also was obsessed with Egyptian mythology (yes, I was the kid who had the Egyptology book growing up even though I wanted the Dragonology one but that’s okay!).

For me, I tend to be quite dense. I tend to be someone who is unable to really see signs unless they are hitting me right in the face (spiritually I have felt blocked for quite a while and if anyone has any tips for that I am down to listen not gonna lie). With all of the signs I did keep seeing though involving Odin, I knew I needed to start doing my research and find someone who could help shine a light within the darkness that was my uncertainty. Was this truly Odin I was being called to? Why? What did I need to hear?

I stumbled around and I did scroll through various sources until I crossed Adelaide’s tumblr page. I understood her focus was on Hellenism, but after speaking with her in the DM’s about doing a reading, I felt safe and comforted by the fact she was so kind, patient, and informative on what I needed. Absolutely one of the sweetest people I had met on here and I absolutely will keep following her because she is so kind and helpful. 

Like anyone who was hoping for answers, I happily paid the amount we agreed to for the details I was hopeful for. Though apologies now, but I genuinely underestimated Adelaide and her capabilities. I mean, I severely underestimated what this reading was going to be like. If you need detail, and are happy to pay her what she deserves, Adelaide will provide and she sure did.

I opened the pastebin link I had gotten and I didn’t even make it through the first paragraph without breaking down into literal tears. I wasn’t sad at all and it usually takes a lot for me to cry. I had been alone at work so far that night and it wasn’t entirely a bad day, but not exactly a good one either. It was going to be just another night where I went home and unwinded until I felt tired. 

Though this, this really just knocked me off my feet in a way I wasn’t expecting. I always was hesitant with deity readings, I have had someone scam me out of my money and just never provide what I requested and so I was almost worried it was going to happen again. I am so thankful I was wrong. 

To give a small bit of background about me, I originally had worked with Danu and Brigid. They were my first goddesses I had actually met and they both had welcomed me with open arms (though I never really understood why). That seemed to set a foundation of how my other encounters would be as I simply seemed to stumble into the contact of the deities I met and I would find every way to give them the respect they deserved. In turn, they nudged me further down the path that I now am on. 

Back to Brigid and Danu though, they were with me for at least a couple of years and both of them to me are basically like my mothers. I still hold so much love, respect and adoration for the both of them and I felt awful for even thinking, “Should I give my statue of Mother Brigid away to someone who may have more use for it than I?” I am glad I didn’t. 

Just reading that first paragraph was what did me in though and I don’t typically cry as I mentioned before. 

“ I do not believe any of these deities have truly left you “

Reading this made me realize I was silly to think that I was alone. I had spent so much time wondering why I was alone and left to try and fight by myself. I know I was doing better in life, but I knew I was starting to feel consumed by my fears of being alone. I continued onward after settling down again emotionally, but boy did the water works come back when I read,

“ For parting words, she simply said that she was pleased to have been with you and will always be around. “ 

This helped me realize that I needed to buckle up and get ready for a ride emotionally. There was a lot that would need unpacking, and I still have much to unpack from it all. 

After that paragraph, we moved onto Danu who had a similar response as Brigid. Aphrodite herself was as graceful and kind as she always has been, and I still feel I owe a lot of my progress to her as well. Without her, I would have never let go of the toxic and abusive relationships I had been in. I know personally, I should make a better attempt to reach out to her more and thank her over and over again. Ares though, I felt slightly intimidated by him, but at the same time I wasn’t entirely afraid. He just is a much quieter individual than I had expected and that is okay. From what I recall (and this reading proves it to me), he speaks when he feels it is necessary. 

Father Lucifer came next and I definitely cried again at the end of his paragraph. “ Lucifer simply said that he sees the light in you. “ That made me cry like a small child all over again and truthfully I was surprised that I had not known him since I was younger. My timing was off, but I am glad it was actually him as I felt I was not actually speaking to him at some points. 

I have much to thank him for, and I hope me even writing this will show others my love, adoration and respect I have for my deities. My deities, I cannot believe I get to say this and say it with such joy. 

Though with those fears, I just assumed I was just making my interactions up and I feel my self-doubt and mistrust of my own feelings has hindered me (even to this day) communications wise. I once again am glad to know I was so horribly wrong. 

The very last, was the most unexpected, and Papa Odin himself had just known that this reading was coming along, and he had been around the longest. Thinking about it now makes me want to cry all over again, but to me I feel this really reassured me because I know I had moments in life where I would see things involving Odin and feeling comfort in them. Internally, I would ask myself on occasion, “I wonder what it is like to just sit with him and talk. What is it like to work with him and learn from him?” 

Sure enough, here I am now laughing and almost crying at the fact that he was with me all along. I just needed to focus a bit more. I genuinely didn’t believe that I had mistaken him for The Morrigan (so sorry Papa Odin!) and yet he still took everything with good strides. I still am having trouble putting it in words how comforted and rejuvenated I feel to have this kindness, love, and support. 

For Odin himself, I cannot thank him enough for what he has done in my life so far. It makes me want to reevaluate my life and see just how many times I could have mistakenly missed him and signs he has given me. For someone who has been around for so long and has had a formative role in my life, I owe so much to him and am grateful to be blessed with his guidance and wisdom. I remembered for ages I wished I had a dad that would love and care for me and here I had Odin all along. Physically I may not be able to see him or hug him, but he was here all long and that is what matters so much to me.

At this point, Adelaide, thank you for all of this. Your words have brought me such joy, comfort, and inspiration and I had trouble thinking of how to even respond to all of this for a good bit of time. I even wondered what I needed to do at this point and I feel I have a solid idea of what I need to do now, but I just am still scrambling around to figure it all out. 

Little by little, I will walk towards my deities and I will do my very best to honor them. Thank all of you for the strength you have given me to stand back up, dust myself off, and continue on. This was what I needed to keep going and keep trying. I had made my username “mirroredpaladin” because I wanted to fight not only for the good of others, but for myself as well. It is about time I start actually doing that. 

From here on, I do want to find a way to properly and more consistently reach out to Odin, Lucifer and Ares. I want to find a way to properly thank them along with Brigid, Danu, and Aphrodite and it is about time I start looking where I can to do so. I know I need guidance, I never was properly educated on what to do with deity work, but I have to try for their sake and mine.

Thank you all for reading this. To also give some more love, I also want to thank @scarletarosa @thepastelpriestess and @its--in--the--weave​ and @blood-and-bunnies​ (I thought they had another username of @/rosegoldtunic before but I don’t remember) because these people have actually helped me get to where I am now along with Adelaide. <3

[teaforten]

Rabbit and the Monkey Cups - (Part 1/2)

Did you need AIW fanfic? Here is AIW fanfic.

I haven’t written in a long time for this show, but it was Rachel’s birthday and I decided to turn a little thing into a big thing. But didn’t finish it, so this is part one of two. 

Here’s a preview, and the rest is under cut. Tumblr wanted to put a bunch of spaces in between every paragraph and frankly I don’t have the energy to take them all out, so sorry about that. 

Preview:

Wondermart was having a huge clearance sale on Halloween stuff, so Hatter and Hare were promptly there on a crisp November afternoon, to hit two birds with one stone. You see, Rabbit’s birthday was at the end of the week. How did they know? Alice had just told them. She was tagging along right behind them, actually, mentioning it in a timid fashion, because she herself was unsure what to get the bunny, or any bunny really, let alone one of his age.

“Ahhh, there’s got to be something here,” Hatter said to the other two confidently.  

“You think he might want a new cape?” Hare wondered, patting at some leftover Dracula capes at the end of a costume rack.

“It’s possible. How about a skull? You think he needs one of these?” By now, Alice was squinting as Hatter plucked up a funky glow-in-the-dark skull from a shelf of cheap yard decorations.

“No, let’s get him this candy bowl,” Hare suggested, though just as he indicated it, the plastic skeleton’s hands guarding its mouth closed around his hand and gave him a serious jolt.

“You guys...” Alice started.

“I want that for myself,” Hatter told Hare.

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your kitchen!”

“It’ll be great for my cookies!” Hatter insisted, with a scowl. “Lord knows you’re not keeping me away from them!”

“You GUYS.”

“Huh?” They both turned to her obliviously, holding each side of the bowl as the skeleton hands slapped open and closed.

“I don’t think Rabbit wants leftover Halloween stuff for his birthday,” she tried to tell them, in what was the most neutral voice she could manage.

“Are you sure?” Hatter wondered. She just rolled her eyes.

“Why don’t we try, uh, some plants at the nursery, or, or a sleep mask? Some fuzzy slippers?”

Her two companions looked to each other and shrugged like she might have a point.

So off to the Wonderland nursery they went, where Alice was plucking up pots of pansies and tulips and flashing them at Hatter and Hare, who seemed not at all impressed. “I mean they’re fine if you just want something to take up space in your window sill,” Hare told her with his eyes half closed. Alice was silent, as she really didn’t see a problem with this. “Alice. Alice Alice Alice~~” Hare drawled, looking around the nursery like he was embarrassed to have to explain this to her. “When my Grandpa December was around the Rabbit’s age, he was going through his very last existential crisis, and the last thing he needed was to fill up his window sills.”

Hatter nodded emphatically. “Mhm. Mhm. That’s a mid-life crisis kind of present.”

“What we need to get the Rabbit is something that reminds him that he’s in control of his life again.”

“Right! Something that says twilight can be just as exciting as any sunrise,” Hatter chipped in, swooping his hand into the air.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this,” Alice told them.

“Well obviously--” Hatter started... then he turned to Hare, looking for some help. “Where are we going with this?”

Hare was all shifty-eyed by now. “Come. Come, my children,” he said.

In no time, they were being led to the “restricted” section of the nursery… a shady little greenhouse shack thingy-mabob… covered with vines and thorns. And the woman helping customers there looked awfully witchy. Her wiry salt and pepper hair was stacked onto her head in a bun, almost all of her fingers had a ring, and she was walking around with a hunch. It gave Alice the creeps. Hatter, too. He was trying to hide behind her, actually, and it wasn’t working out very well.

“Do you have a membership card?” She asked Hare, also looking very shifty-eyed. Hare took out his wallet and flashed the goods. Then she jerked up her chin like a bouncer who had recognized one of their own, as if to say “a’iiiight, ya’ll’s cool to go in”...

In a very interesting turn of events, it was Hatter clutching Hare’s arm and nibbling his knuckles, and Alice trailing behind them, using his coat-tails as some kind of safety leash.

“Poisonous… carnivorous…” Alice read the signs hesitantly as they passed them.

“Cadaverous… smelly?!” Hatter screeched.

“Oh, the smelliest!” Hare flapped his hands and kept walking.

“I don’t think the Rabbit is going to want a smelly plant, Mr. Hare. After all, he’ll have to keep it at the palace, and if the Queen doesn’t like it…” Alice started.

“Well then I know! We’ll get him a guard plant!” Hare concluded. Hatter seemed both extremely terrified and extremely excited about seeing which selections of guard plant this place had.

“There are plants that can guard palaces?” Alice wondered incredulously.

“Shhh, everyone be quiet,” Hare told them. They weren’t far from an enclosure where a deep crimson light was shining on a beastly looking growth in the corner of the greenhouse. At its base was an array of spikey pads clustering around even spikier shoots and bulbs -- all more or less foaming at the mouths, or whatever it had.

“What? It can’t hear us--” Alice tried to say before Hatter’s hand fell over her mouth.

“You don’t know that,” he stage-whispered without looking at her. She almost had the nerve to bite him. Evidently, Hare had immediately forgotten to show any caution once he realized what was in the enclosure because he was bursting at the seams and hopping in place like a cheerleader without pom-poms.

“Oh, WOW. They said they were going to order it in, but I HONESTLY DIDN’T BELIEVE THEM. Look you guys, it’s a GIANT CATAPULTING FLYPAPER TRAP! And no wonder they’ve got these bars: someone could fall right into that thing and they’d be a GONER,” Hare told them, tenting his fingers and grinning from ear to ear, with every possible dimple in his face showing.

“Geez, Mr. Hare. I never realized you were so, well, morbid.” Hare looked mildly surprised for a second, then just shrugged.

“Anyway, Rabbit could never handle something like this. And look at the price. Oof!” They watched Hare take out a neon green notepad from his pocket and scribble down a note. “Reminder to myself to break open the ole piggy bank when I get home. I just might have enough!”

It was Hatter’s turn to lay down the line:

“Hell if you’re keeping that in your garden!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t put it in my garden. I’d put it in my dungeon,” Hare told him matter-of-factly.

“Ohhhhh. Well in that case… just remember to show it who’s boss.” A whole lotta eyebrow wiggling and elbow jabbing took place before Alice could no longer sit with this image. She pointed at the first thing she saw.

“Uhh, what about this? This looks exciting enough. What is it?” She asked Hare, who was even blushing by now. He cleared his throat.

“Oh, those are… I think I remember… oh yes! Monkey cups!”

“Monkey cups? That doesn’t sound too scary.”

Hatter and Hare shrugged. Their minds had clearly moved on to other things. “Nahhhh, guess not! It’d probably be perfect for Rabbit - he can feed it bugs and stuff when he’s having a bad day. Hahahahhaha!” Alice frowned just as soon as he winked at her. “What? We all know he has a sadistic side.”

@ @ @

As cool as the plant was, Alice wasn’t particularly sold on the idea that Rabbit would be satisfied with just that kind of gift on his birthday, so she begged and pleaded for them to come with her to hit the nearest convenience store. They were being absolute drama kings about it as if they were in some kind of black and white purgatory hell as she perused the greeting card section for just the right one.

“Come on, Alice. How is this watercolor pastel painting of flowers any different from the other ten that you looked at?” Hatter wondered with his eyes rolled back into his head and his giant purple body slumped up against one of the flimsy card racks. A clerk nearby could now see how precarious this situation looked and was watching them carefully.

“And they all say happy birthday!” Hare chimed in as he wandered up to Alice’s side. As he did so, she noticed that he was holding the pot of monkey cups off to one side of his chest, almost as if he had been breastfeeding them or something. He also randomly had a hiccup blanket over his shoulder. She scrunched up her face for a second before she had a response prepared.

“Yes, but they just don’t have that… oomf!” Alice told them, making sort of a “glitter exploding” gesture with her hand.

The both of them repeated the word several times to each other, also imitating the gesture.

“You know. A certain... je ne sais quoi?” She emphasized, even getting on her tippy toes. Hatter tilted his head and mimed the phrase in confusion while Hare tried to pronounce it. He even handed Hatter the plant so he could sort of pop his booty out and tip his toe, while still butchering the phrase spectacularly. Alice smiled and rolled her eyes. “It’s French. I learned it from my penpal, Yvette. It means. Well, it means that you don’t know what it means. But it’s something special.”

Hatter frowned.

“Alice, do you even know why we’re here?” He asked.

“Because we’ve been trying to figure it out for the past eternity.”

“We’ve been here for five or ten minutes tops. And yes, I know why I’m-- DUM!” She hopped when she saw a familiar face pass the glass from the outside. The Tweedles were on their way to the front doors. Hatter and Hare cranked their necks as the bell on the door jingled, while Alice went to greet the twins without a moment’s hesitation, as if they were rescuing her. It would seem they might have also been whispering their hellos and other exchanges, which was just plain rude, in Hatter’s opinion, based on the way he squished up his lips. He looked Hare in the eye and nothing further needed to be said.

Just as the Tweedles were heading back with Alice to the card section, they passed Hatter and Hare, who were on their way to the door. “Oh hey, you two!” Dee greeted, followed by some timid waving by Dum. “Hey guys, uh, we’re just gonna be going,” Hare told them, jutting his thumb out with a crooked smile. “It’s these poor little guys’ nap time.”

“Uhh yeah, and we’d hate to be a 4th and 5th wheel,” Hatter muttered, sort of coddling the monkey cups and shielding them from the Tweedles’ view. Hare was equally concerned about this and hovered around him, trying to put the hiccup blanket, which had a soft little cartoon cactus print, around Hatter’s arm and over the plant, going “sh sh sh…”

Dee cocked his brow and didn’t say a thing until they were gone.

Then, once they were:

“Why are they going around babying a patch of bright green dangling plant dicks?” Just as soon as he said it, Dum was seized by cackles… and more or less so was Alice. But hearing“Mr. Dee” talk like that was highly unusual.

She wanted to speak but couldn’t stop laughing and started sinking into herself. Dum had to pull her up before she hit the floor. “What?! What is it, Alice?! XD” He kept asking her.

“They’re not plant weeners!” She peeped into his ear, still trying to properly breathe again. “They’re m-monkey cups! They’re for the Rabbit! For his birthday!”

This started a whole new round of reeling between the Tweedles, which garnered the attention of the store clerk, who still wasn’t happy about Hatter leaning on all the card racks.

“Excuse me… do you three plan on buying anything?” He asked. He was old, uptight, and easy to dismiss.

“Oh yeah, sure,” Dee told him, swishing his hands before he let them fall on Dum and Alice’s shoulders. On their way to the cards, Alice tried to explain the meandering logic that had led her and her eccentric companions to and from the nursery today, with such an odd purchase.

“Well just make sure the Hare keeps the receipt, is all I’ve got to say!” Dum told her, earning a high-five from Dee.

“You guys wanna help me find something else?” She wondered, quite relieved just to be hearing sensible sentiments again. Dee thought about if he had any plans for the day.

“I’m game.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Dum said.

“A’ight. Let’s find something with some real je ne sais quoi around here and then hit that sleep store across from Just Add Sugar!” Dee turned up his nose with a smug smile like he knew exactly what he was doing. And he probably did.

@ @ @

It was five-thirty in the afternoon and Hatter and Hare were tipped back in their chairs with their bellies full of crumpets, cookies, and jam. And tea, of course. Lots and lots of tea. Beside the Hare was one of those bouncy baby seats that he periodically tipped with his foot. And inside of the baby seat was the pot of monkey cups, wrapped up in the cactus blanket. Several crumpet crumbs were surrounding it. “Do you think it liked the crumpets?” Hatter was busy scraping food out of his teeth and was probably in a food coma when he answered:

“I mean, it ate them, didn’t it?”

“I think so.”

Just then, they saw the Tweedles and Alice frolicking by, flailing shopping bags and sipping slurpees. It was an immediate outrage. Then they slam-dumped the empty cups into Hatter’s trash-can outside the gate. “Oh hi, Hatter and Hare!” Dum shrieked cheerily in a blur.

“Bye, Hatter and Hare!” Dee shouted, just as they were opening their mouths. Alice apparently didn’t even notice where they were or whose house they were passing. It just looked like she had been having the time of her life, or something.

“You know, sometimes, Hare… I don’t know about that girl.”

@ @ @

The day of Rabbit’s birthday, Hare was simply a sobbing mess, and Hatter was having to do a lot of bedraggled consoling that frankly he was not prepared for, in order to make this visit to the palace even possible.

“Come on, Hare,” he told him, trying to pry the plant from his needy little fingers. It was not unlike trying to pry a fly from a venus fly trap. Except this fly trap was worried about the fly and was sure that keeping it in its mouth forever was the only way to keep it safe. Just as it popped free from Hare’s desperate clasp, his arms collapsed in his chest and his knees hit the ground as he wailed:

“We shouldn’t have bought them so early in the week! Now they think I’m their ma, and they’ll miss me terribly!”

Hatter frowned, then realized that he was sort of petting one of them. “Hey, what about me?”

Hare shrugged as a tear pooled in his eye. “They’ll sort of miss you too.” Hatter turned to the fourth wall and just stared. “But every plant needs their ma!”

“Then the Rabbit can be their godmother! Their fairy-godmother! Ahhh? He’ll let you visit, I’m sure.” Hatter’s proposal wasn’t all that bad. Still, Hare was caught up in a moment and could only sniffle, so his partner gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder and walked past him. “Now, I’m gonna take these guys out for one last walk, and then we’ll head to the palace. Take a hit off the hookah, if you need.”

@ @ @

The palace courtyard was unusually quiet that day. Hatter and Hare were thinking there’d either be some sort of bash already started, or they’d have to get into an argument with the Queen about letting Rabbit have free time on his birthday. Instead, they found him kicked up on the chaise lounge, being fanned with a giant banana leaf by Alice. Totally oblivious to their presence, as he was wearing a thick cushy sleep mask and slurping up a tropical smoothie with an umbrella, Rabbit had more or less slipped into nirvana, or as close to it as an old servant would ever get. On the nearest table was a catalogue for the sleep store Alice had visited with the Tweedles, there were brand new, fuzzy wuzzy bunny slippers on the floor next to him, and even a gift basket filled with soaps, bath salts, and the most basic bitch teas Hatter had ever seen. Not that he would say anything.

But he had to say something, because poor ole Hare was still waiting for his hit off the hookah to kick in and had red eyes that could be seen from a mile away. He even forgot to stand and face their friends. Hatter grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him in the right direction.

“Rabbbitttttt!” He shouted at the bunny.

“Mmmmmmm...yyyyyesss???” Hold up a moment. The peaceful smile on the Rabbit’s face slowly fell as he realized he had heard the voice of someone he was sure in the past had never helped him achieve any sort of serenity. He snatched off the sleep mask. “Oh, hello... Hatter. Hare.” He was sort of leaning back and away from them now. Luckily, he couldn’t see that Alice was behind him, trying to hold it together.

“A little birdie told us it was your birthday today!”

“A little birdie?” Rabbit scrunched up his face, confused.

“He means me,” Alice said sweetly over his shoulder.

“Oh, but you’aaa~ not a bird!”

“Yeah, but she overhears all kinds of things, like a bird on a tree-branch!” Hatter explained, to which Alice nodded, “and that was the only way we were going to know it was your birthday, you secretive, sly, s-selectively friendly…s-senior citizen--”

“You had better get on with whatever you came here for, Hatta~...” Rabbit muttered, just as Hatter felt a tickle in his throat.

“Ahem! Yes.” He turned to Hare, who had been trying to blot a tear with the cactus blanket without anyone noticing. “Uh, Hare, why don’t you take the blanket off and show Rabbit this wondeeerfulll, spectaccuullar giftttt, ahhhh?” Hatter tried his best to sprinkle all the razzle-dazzle of two people onto the reveal, but no matter of twisting and twirling elicited much of a reaction out of Rabbit once he saw under the blanket. And he only had one thing to say.

“My, those are awfully phallic, aren’t they…”

Alice just bit her lip.

“What’s ‘phallic’?” Hatter questioned, not yet sure if he should feel validated or offended. Alice shrugged, as she didn’t know either. Rabbit immediately regretted that it had ever fallen from his mouth.

“Uhhh… Well what are they, anyway?” He diverted.

The Tweedles, meanwhile, had been oo’ing and ah’ing at all the boring af statues the Queen put up in one of her hallways, like really putting on an oscar worthy performance out of the sincerest desire for Rabbit to have some alone time with his gifts in that chair. When they were back to the courtyard with her majesty, however, they were having a really hard time keeping a straight face while a clueless Hatter and an unreasonably forlorn Hare waved around the bright green plant dicks monkey cups and pitched them like they were going to be Rabbit’s newest obsession.

All they had to do was step into Alice’s vicinity and make eye-contact with her and she was already giggling.

“So you see, Rabbit, this isn’t just some midlife-crisis window-sill filler… set these up at your table on bingo nights and you’ll have all the bunny ladies crowding around, knowing you’re up to something.”

“And what exactly am I up to?” Rabbit cocked his eyebrow, quite distracted by their striking resemblance to, well, cocks.

“Bein’ a plant daddy,” Hatter told him, smiling and nodding like he was very sure of himself, “to a hardcore plant that’ll eat all the bugs in your garden. Even frogs, too!”

“Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww!!!” Was Rabbit’s first reaction. Then he leaned forward and tapped one of the cups before the Queen belted from behind him.

“That’s BARBARIC.” Immediately, Rabbit fell right on his face on the floor beside the lounge, then had to prop himself up and heave a little when he realized she had been so close to him all along. “Why would you get Rabbit a gift like that!”

Hare had recoiled just as much as Hatter, but he looked more defeated than anything else that neither of them were impressed with his gift, especially now that they were his babies that he’d raised for a week. Once again, Hatter had to do the explaining, patting Hare’s hand, which was squeezing his arm, all the while.

“We thought he needed some excitement!”

“He has PLENTY of excitement around here!”

Rabbit darted his eyes around. He wasn’t about to disagree with her, because technically she was right, it’s just… it wasn’t the good kind of excitement. The Tweedles and Alice were feeling even surer about their gifts by now.

“Well then really, this plant can keep up with him, is all we’re saying,” Hatter told her, not even missing a beat. “Oh look, it already likes him!”

For the first time in the last five minutes, Hare had something to say: “It does?”

Hatter gave him a look. “Uhhh, of course it does, Hare. Hand it over. Wouldn’t want to keep these two parted.” Try as he may to sort of direct the pot towards the birthday bunny himself, Hare was sort of squeezing it close and didn’t know how to let go. Rabbit, meanwhile, looked completely flabbergasted as he sat there on the floor beneath those looming plant dongs. The Queen threw up her hands, which just elicited more of the Tweedles’ giggling.

“You have GOT to be kidding me!”

“Uhh, they mean well, Your Majesty!” Alice tried to step in, being the noble child among the group and all that. “I mean if you think about it… it’s just as silly as any other gift they’ve given him…”

“Hmph, you’re right… there’s no way this is a joke,” her Majesty answered back in a deep voice, with her chin tucked into her neck. Then all five of them just kept watching Hatter and Hare fuss over the pot.

“Hare, just let go! One finger at a time. Come on, now.”

“I’m trying!” Hare pouted.

“I highly doubt that!”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be a mother!”

“No, but I know what it’s like to live with one!”

“DON’T shame me for being an empath!” Hare growled through his tears, still with the cactus blanket thrown over his shoulder.

“Alright you two, listen!” Rabbit professed, just before he scurried to his feet and yanked at his vest, then patted a few fuzzballs away. “I’ll keep the plant for a few days and see how it goes, but I want He’a~ on call at all times! He obviously has a grrreener thumb than I~, but I appreciate your thinking of me on my birthdehh~, so I shall try my best. Ehh… provided her Majesty approves.”

They all slowly turned to her in suspense, looking somewhere on a spectrum between apprehensive and hopeful. And then there were the Tweedles, who were just about to whip out their popcorn bowls. The Queen squinted at them for a moment before she decided it was not her circus, not her monkeys. Well, hopefully.

“Fine. But I don’t want to hear a thing about it. Call the Hare if it gives you any trouble, and if he can’t help you, hohohhhh,” her eyes bulged as she cut her hands into the air, “it’s straight back to the nursery.”

“Of course, of course. Ehh… thank you.” Rabbit nodded to the Queen awkwardly before he turned to Hare and opened his hands to receive the plant. Hare just stared at him until Hatter leaned into him.

“Give Rabbit the plant, Hare.”

“Eheheheh! Right,” he said, his arms extending out with a tremble to relinquish his babies to his favorite frenemy. Rabbit took hold of the pot and tried not to cringe as the dongs sweeping over the side brushed his forearm. Try as he may to bring them closer to his chest, Hare came with them. He laughed and gave them a better tug, which prompted Hare to tug them back. Before everyone knew it they were bouncing back and forth. Finally, Hatter took Hare’s shoulders and held him in place, so that Rabbit could pluck the monkey cups out of his motherly smother, and inspect them with none of the same sort of affection.

“Eheheh, loveleh~ loveleh~~...” he trailed. “Well, I’d better- eh, put these somewhere. T-thank you, everyone, for the birthday wishes and gifts… You’re all too kind.”

“OH WAIT, RABBIT,” Hare screeched, wriggling out of Hatter’s grasp and pulling a baby bag out of nowhere.

“This is all of his stuff!” When Rabbit took it from him, his arm plummeted as if he had just taken a bag of bowling balls.

“Gee, thanks, I feel so prepared now~” He said through his teeth to the fourth wall. Then  he fluttered his fingers and rolled away. Hare looked at least somewhat reassured as Hatter patted him on the back and he blew his nose.

Part 2 coming soon!...

[sunsmitten]

     This is something that’s been bothering me lately and i feel the need to give my two cents. im starting to see homophobic comments abt gay ships on my dash and while the people saying them may not think it’s homophobic, it is. no one has to really read this, it’s just something i want to put out there. it’s my personal experience with a group of people that were very Straight Ship centered, heteronormative, and would frequently make the very same comments others are starting to make here: “gay ships are being shoved down my throat so now i hate gay shipping and want nothing to do with it” or you know, stuff along those lines. if two people rping two girls kissing or two boys kissing bothers you in any way, literally, in any way at all, it is homophobia. and here’s a good chunk of how shit like that grows and can become something very harmful;

when i very first started rping on tumblr i had made an oc ( both the oc and blog are looooong gone by now ) that wasn’t very attracted to women romantically or sexually. he didn’t define his sexuality, but throughout that blog i made it clear he wasn’t really into women.

i eventually made friends with this group of people who also rped on tumblr. in the beginning everything was fine, great and fun! but after some time they would make me feel bad for only putting my oc in a relationship with a man. in order for me to be included and not repeatedly discarded by them, i would actively have to put my oc in a ‘straight ship.’ and unfortunately, that’s what i did. i immediately noticed a difference with how they treated me when i finally shipped my guy oc with one of their girls oc’s, and i would have to repeatedly sit through them saying transphobic and homophobic comments abt other people’s ships and muses ( it was the transphobia in this community that made me leave in the first place ). they would constantly express their bitterness towards m/m and f/f shipping on the internet bc it was “more popular” than their m/f ships, and when i would try to explain how that wasn’t a good viewpoint to have, I would be ostracized, guilt tripped, and forced to apologize and ‘admit’ that i was wrong.

as i got older and more comfortable with my sexuality, i really only ever viewed/read content centered around m/m and f/f because like. im gay. and i wanna see gay shit, ya know? but that didn’t really fly with them. they’d would continuously make me feel guilty for this, call me misogynistic for liking m/m and f/f over m/f because to them being gay and wanting to see gay content makes me hate women, and i was called the big word itself. Heterophobic. 

one of the girls in particular, we’ll call her S, was very keen on telling me how awful of a person i was bc of my preference, how ‘straight shipping is oppressed’ on the internet and im only ‘feeding into the oppression.’ for 4 years she would manipulate me and make me feel guilty not only for the type of media i consumed, but for my sexuality in general. it got so bad to the point that i would have frequent panic attacks and i still got the throw up stain on my carpet to prove it ( i got one so bad bc of her i puked all over my bedroom floor and then fainted ). when i would try to reach out to the others abt what was happening behind the scenes, i’d either be ignored or my feelings were invalidated. to me, she was toxic, to everyone else, she was a wonderful friend. but that doesn’t excuse or make her treatment of me ok and it took along time for me to realize that. 

again, please keep in mind this went on for 4 years. this started when i was finally comfortable with myself and then to be thrown in and stuck in this situation bc i was too much of a coward to leave really fucks with a person. her distaste, hatefulness, and bitter attitude for gay people/characters/shipping was all taken out on me every week for 4 years. i’m doing my very best not over-dramatize this but yeah, it was every week for 4 years she would send me paragraphs of how terrible i was for just being me. how shitty i was as a person, how im a terrible friend, how the content i liked wasn’t fair to her, a straight person, that i was predatory for being a masculine identifying person looking at other guys, and how lucky i was to have a friend like her that tells me when i’m ‘in the wrong.’ 

near the end of last year she sent me another one of these multi-paragraph messages. at this point, i had finally become very aware how fucked up of a person she is and how i was never in the wrong through any of this like she originally made me believe. instead of agreeing with her and apologizing, a ended up snapping back. i told her how i felt, how she wasn’t being fair to me, and that i felt she was being very homophobic. admittedly, her response wasn’t at all like i had expected. She apologized, told me i had opened her eyes to some things and she’ll work on getting better. this made me happy! i thought that maybe we could continue our friendship without anymore of the BS. 

after that i took a good break from being online. i needed some time for myself and i needed to think some things over about my life. during this time, i realized how lax i was with S, how i let her and that whole friend group get away with so many things and i began to wonder if i should even go back. even after that talk i had with her, she was still very defensive against homosexual relationships and would get angry if someone expressed more interest in gay media than straight media. 

i was away for a good couple months, i was healing and rising above that bad mentality she forced on me. i logged out of all social media and messenger apps so there was no way her or anyone from that group could contact me. i hadn’t heard from her in months, until i received a letter in the mail. She wrote me a letter. A two paged letter. A LETTER. A REAL, WHOLE ASS LETTER. just so she can continue to try and tear me down. she started by telling me how much she missed me, a little starter paragraph kissing my ass until it, very abruptly, turned into the usual “youre shit, terrible, bad, you have no respect for me or anything i create, you hate me bc im a straight woman-” you get it. but this time i didn’t care! nothing she said in that letter got to me like it used to. the only thing that bothered me was her persistence to make me feel bad. she genuinely wanted to continue to hurt me. but with that time away and probably because i was so used to it by then, it didn’t faze me. 

i eventually went back to social media and kept my distance from that friend group. i still considered them my friends, bc when things were good, i had a lot of fun! and wanted to keep that in my life. But, I blocked S. I blocked her on everything so there’d be no way for her to contact me and if she wrote me another letter, i would simply rip it up. i made it clear i wanted to go our separate ways with no hard feelings, i didn’t talk to anyone abt what she had done. no mention whatsoever. i carried on my merry way bc i was moving past it. She did not. 

When she figured out i had blocked her, she threw a tantrum. she twisted my words and painted me as the villain by showing out of context screenshots of what i had sent in response to her second to last message ( the one before the letter ). she told the people i was still friends with that i abused her for years bc she was straight and put me on full blast on the internet. she did this because i blocked her.

it all happened in the time span of a second; i lost all my friends, i was blocked by everyone and not only called a piece of shit by her, but by everyone i still cared deeply about. i was forced to delete all my social media accounts so i wouldn’t continue to be put on blast. for a week i was upset bc really, who wouldn’t be? but after that week i realized that if these people i called my friends just took S’s word for it and were all so eager to tear me apart bc she said so, they were never my friends. they never cared about me so why should i care if im not with them anymore? it was a real eye opening moment and my dudes, im doing fucking great. im so much happier without them all in my life and i can finally do the shit i want. be gay and indulge on harmless gay content. 

so! to make the moral of the story clear. The people that are so butt hurt over gay shipping being more popular than straight shipping are people not to be trusted. it may seem unfair to lump them all into a category, and im not saying they’re all as toxic as S, but their mentality is homophobic. disliking anything gay bc it’s not straight, is homophobic. straight people are constantly represented in every source of media and if someone is bothered by the fact that gay people are indulging in gay shipping in the rpc, they are homophobic. there’s no way around it.

im still getting over S and all that she did. i know without her i wouldn't be as tough as i am now and unapologetic with what i like, but there’s a good part of me that wishes i never met her or that friend group. bc of her i struggle with my self esteem and my own internalized homophobia that only formed after i met her. i’ve come along way in the months after i officially cut myself off from them, but i know this is something that’s going to take some time. 

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment is All We Are (5.1/?)

This chapter is REALLY long so I split the text ver into 2 parts for Tumblr. 

AO3 link: here

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Story type: Romance/Drama/comedy

Pairing: Dazai x OC/reader (Dazai is endgame, fic is long-running and will also feature Kunikida x OC)

OC (Kusunoki Kyou) and Ability are based off of "The Story of Your Life," written by Ted Chiang, aka the basis of the Amy Adams movie "Arrival."

Rating: M for Blood/violence/themes of depression, anxiety, suicide TW: The second half of this story will deal more heavily with themes of suicide, depression/anxiety. *No major character death will occur*

Story follows OC as she joins the ADA, partners up with the detectives to solve various cases around Yokohama and develops feelings for Kunikida and Dazai (Dazai endgame).

Written for those who want an immersive ADA experience :)

Updates every Sunday evening around 6pm PST

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It wasn’t always like this.

Okay, maybe it was.

For as far back as I could remember, the visions had always been random, random events I would see of the future. If I was in physical contact with someone, the visions would be from their future. If I wasn’t, then the visions would be from my own life. Sometimes when I was really stressed, the visions of my future would actually come in the form of a dream, like in manga or novels.

Perhaps that was the best way to explain how The Story of Your Life worked; it was like taking out a book, keeping a finger against the pages and flipping until that finger finally caught on a single page. Then, flip open that page and read the first paragraph that jumps out; the book was the person’s life and the paragraph was the event, a single scene from that person’s future that I bore witness to.

The visions didn’t always show me death, blood and despair.

In fact, the very first vision I had was that of a puppy—a cute little thing my friend Kiko gifted me at my fifth birthday party. I must’ve seemed shockingly unsurprised (and possibly rude) to Kiko and her parents, but I couldn’t bring myself to explain that I’d seen her giving me this puppy half a year ago.

In retrospect, the puppy vision had been great. Sure, it took some of the fun out of a surprise gift but it was still a vision about a puppy. Honestly, if my visions were nothing more than glorified versions of baby animal videos, I’d be perfectly fine with that.

Maybe then, I wouldn’t be left with this overwhelming fear of my own Ability.

I used to be able to touch people, shake their hands, and hold them. In the beginning, “The Story of Your Life” only activated with a prolonged touch...

At first, “prolonged” meant more than ten seconds. That meant getting to play tag in kindergarten, going over to friends’ houses and having sleepovers. Normal stuff. My life didn’t even change all that much when ten seconds shrank to seven some time around middle school; I was able to play contact sports and go out on shopping trips without incident. Seven seconds became five halfway through high school. Again, no need to make lifestyle changes. I could still hold hands with friends, so long as it didn’t go on for too long and I was still able to have my first kiss without seeing even a hint of my boyfriend’s future.

And then, college. Five seconds was no longer doable. It became three at best and just before I’d become a shut-in, even an instantaneous touch was enough to trigger my Ability. By then, however, I’d gotten pretty used to having the visions, so I remained relatively unbothered when I’d see a vision of the barista breaking up with his girlfriend when I got my morning coffee. In other words, managing my Ability was no big deal.

Or so I thought.

About six months ago, my visions went from being an occasional distraction to a panic-inducing nightmare. I still wasn’t sure why...

Maybe it was just luck of the draw. I’d only seen good things, mostly, for the first ten-plus years at least: faraway cities, weddings, and graduations. Every once in a while there would be a failed exam or a lost wallet but overall nothing too out of the ordinary for an otherwise regular teenager to see.

Maybe it was just a sign of the times. As I got older, so did the people around me, so the more likely it was that they were entering that phase of their lives where things could start to go south. Or perhaps their previous lives were just catching up to them.

Or maybe, it was karma finally catching up to me. I’d be lying if I said that I’d never used my Ability for personal gain before. There were a few exams I managed to ace with the help of a well-timed touch of the hand and a few pitfalls I’d managed to avoid through a combination of sheer luck and a decently fast reflex. Perhaps six months ago, whatever granted me this power finally decided that I had a good run and it needed to end in the worst way possible...

And it all happened so quickly.

I never had much control over my visions to begin with and they never really bothered me before but suddenly, they were invading every part of my life—and with each vision I saw, the accuracy increased. My dreams became more vivid than ever; I would see things that had yet to occur and before I moved out, my college roommate would wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of my screams. I started passing out in the middle of class if someone so much as tapped my bare shoulder and when I came to again, it would be a minute before I remembered where I was and what I was doing. I was starting to consider seeking some kind of help until one day, I finally saw my first death.

It was horrible. I was at dinner with friends on a group date and I hit it off with one of the guys. He wanted to take me to the movies that weekend, and being relatively new to college and Yokohama in general, I agreed. Then, smiling, he’d held my hand just a millisecond too long and I saw it: him getting hit by a car while crossing the street.

I tried not to think about it too hard. Sometimes the vision were wrong. There were times when they’d been off by just a fraction of a second and because of that, I still had hope. Maybe there was a chance that things could change last minute, either by a miracle or by someone’s sheer force of will. But as time passed, my anxiety grew. He was running late and I didn’t like it. Finally, I spotted him at the intersection and, frantic, I waved him down just as the “walk” sign lit up and he started crossing the street.

That’s when it happened.

A single black vehicle, no license plate, ran a red... and ran into him.

I would remember seeing his body flying into the air for the rest of the semester.

After that, I started taking an alternate route to class, just to avoid going anywhere near the part of campus where he’d died. It wasn’t that people were whispering behind my back or accusing me of having a part of it—I just couldn’t handle the memory.

That was the first death.

The first.

It was as if some kind of floodgate had been opened. I had never seen death before that day but after...? Death became all I saw. I briefly shook hands with a foreign exchange student and immediately saw an image of a middle-aged woman lying in a hospital wing. The woman had been the student’s mother and I heard she died a week later. I could not have been responsible for the cancer that claimed her life but I spent weeks feeling guilty about it anyway. There was another incident where I accidentally, and literally, bumped into my English teacher on the way to class. I saw his brother being hit by a bus downtown. His death was announced a month later, on the morning news. When I saw it, I broke down in the middle of the cafeteria and my friend Eri had to take me home.

And it just kept happening.

I became afraid to touch people. I began wearing longer layers during the summer months and started keeping to myself. When even a brush of the hand or bumping into people on public transit could trigger a vision, I started wearing gloves. I got a lot of stares on the subway for wearing itchy winter gloves in the subtropical heat and the knitted fabric made gripping the overhead handholds difficult so I ended up changing to disposable nitrile instead. I got less stares for that but unfortunately, I eventually had to give up public transit entirely when I got squished between two tourists and had a panic attack in the middle of the car.

But giving up public transportation put me in a tough spot. My dorm was pretty far from campus and I didn’t know how to drive. If I really wanted to, I could walk but that would take far too long and make for far too many chances to see another person’s death. And I really didn’t want to ask anyone for a ride because that would just mean more questions and more explanations I wasn’t willing to give.

And yet somehow, I managed to make it work for a time, waking up early to go to class, avoiding hangouts in-between classes and running back to my dorm as soon as I got a chance. But I was still attending classes with lots of people in a crowded lecture hall and living with roommates in a dormitory building. Ultimately, the stress of trying to avoid people while also trying to keep up with increasingly difficult classes caused me to start having nightmares. They were frequent and they were bad. And I knew that these were all things that would someday happen to me: me and a friend being held hostage in an abandoned apartment building, a woman in a suit and sunglasses pointing two machine guns directly at my face, a man didn’t recognize growing steadily colder in my arms as I screamed for him not to leave me...

That following morning, I woke up sobbing—crying as if I wished I was the one who had died instead. When my roommate tried to comfort me, I jerked away out of instinct and immediately realized I’d made a mistake.

And that was it.

I couldn’t it take any more.

About a week later, I left the dorm and found myself a tiny studio apartment, one that I could still afford on my shoestring budget and more importantly, one where I could live completely alone.

Soon after, I dropped out of college and became a shut-in. In true shut-in fashion, I shunned all contact from classmates and friends in case someone came to visit and decide they needed to barge in because they couldn’t—shouldn’t—do such a thing. My apartment had become both my sanctuary and my jail. So long as nothing changed around me, none of the horrible visions would come to pass.

Thankfully, a month into my new lifestyle, the nightmares stopped.

So long as nobody came near me, I wouldn’t have to witness another death with my waking eyes...

I still remembered the night I decided to stop going to class. It was the same night I looked out the windows and saw my own reflection, touched my fingers to my face and pulled them away, confirming that it was indeed blood and not salt tears that dripped down my cheeks. I started avoiding mirrors from that day on and threw myself fully into watching anime, joining fandoms and drawing commissions, anything to distract myself from the invasive, self-destructive thoughts that grew stronger whenever I looked into a reflection of my own eyes.

Yes... Staying was the only solution. If I never stepped out of the apartment again, the world would be spared the sight of my hollow eyes and bloody tears... And I—I would be spared the curse of witnessing things I should never have seen to begin with.

***

“So you’ve been holed up in your apartment for the last six months doing...”

Kunikida frowned, tapping his pen against his chin.

“What exactly? Rent in Yokohama isn’t cheap. How have you been supporting yourself?”

“Commissions,” I explained. “I started watching a lot of anime and playing video games and fans pay good money for drawings of their favorite characters, original characters or even pictures of themselves in a stylized form.”

Summing up my Ability meant practically telling these two my entire life story, not just recalling the events of this morning, and I had to commend the detectives’ patience for sitting through what I would’ve considered a pretty long-winded explanation. Now I was even telling them how I’d stretched my budget and supplemented my allowance.

I held out my hand.

“If I could have some paper and something to write with, I could show you, if you like...?”

Dazai immediately ripped Kunikida’s notebook and pen out of his hands. Ignoring his partner’s protests, he held them out to me and, throwing his arm out to keep Kunikida from taking back his own things, sat back to watch me draw. Within seconds, a coarse outline appeared on the pages, followed by facial features: eyes, nose, hair—a minute later, I handed back Kunikida’s notebook, a quick, rudimentary pen sketch of each detective on its two open pages.

As one, they leaned in to stare at it.

“This is pretty good,” Kunikida said, looking up at me. He squinted down at the page, tracing the lines with his fingers, mumbling, “Does my hair really look like that?”

“It is... isn’t it?” Dazai agreed, rubbing his chin.

As Kunikida puzzled over the drawing, a mischievous glint appeared in Dazai’s dark eyes.

“Kusunoki-san... Have you ever considered a career as a sketch artist?”

At once, Kunikida shot him a warning look.

“Don’t even think about it, Dazai,” he growled, “Making decisions without the President’s approval—”

“I’m not making a decision, only a suggestion,” Dazai declared. “And what’s wrong with a good suggestion?”

“Dazai...”

Ignoring Kunikida entirely, he turned to me.

“Really, I don’t know how we survived like this for so long. We’re a detective agency, one of the best in the city and yet, we don’t have a sketch artist... It’s a shame, don’t you agree, Kusunoki-san? What do you think? Interested in a change of career?”

“Wait... are you asking me to join you?” I asked warily, looking from one detective to the other. “Why would you want someone like me? I can’t fight. I don’t even know how to shoot a gun.”

“I’m asking you,” Dazai said pointedly, “if you would be interested in becoming a sketch artist. I mean, it just so happens that we are in dire need of one—(“No one said that!” Kunikida roared)—and you happen to have the exact skill set we are looking for! Not to mention you’re an Ability User... Just think of all the people you could help.”

“I don’t know,” I mumbled, looking away, “Wouldn’t someone like me be more of a burden than an asset? I can’t even control my Ability, much less use it to help people—”

“But what if you could control it?”

I froze. Having had no control of my Ability for my entire life, the possibility hadn’t even occurred to me...

“There’s a way?” I asked, looking back up just as Dazai’s grin turned into a triumphant smirk. “How?”

“I could tell you,” he drawled, his smirk growing even wider, “But it’s a closely guarded secret. You’d have to join us if you want to find out... Of course, I’d be more than happy to vouch for you if you’d like to apply—”

“Dazai—!! You—!”

Kunikida was on his feet.

“We can’t just offer a job to every stray Ability User we rescue from the Port Mafia! Atsushi was one thing but—”

“Oh my, so you’d be perfectly fine sending a nice girl like her back into the jaws of the Port Mafia? Really, I thought better of you, Kunikiiiiiida-kun—”

“That’s not what I said!”

“So you agree, we should take her in?”

Kunikida’s face was in his hands.

“Look, it’s not that I don’t want to help, but it’s not our decision to make! And besides, she’s clearly been through enough, what makes you think she would agree to—”

“I’ll do it.”

Kunikida’s mouth dropped open. He looked stunned.

“You will—? Wait, no, I never said I agreed—”

“Let me apply,” I said, looking him firmly in the eyes. “I want to help people. I’ve always wanted to. Isn’t that what you do here at the Agency? Use your special Abilities to make their lives better?”

“That’s true,” Kunikida admitted, folding his arms over his chest, “But this can be a dangerous job. Especially for a non-combatant. You almost died today! Why do you want to help people so bad? In fact, let me ask you...”

His eyes flashed from behind his glasses, his expression fierce.

“Why did you go so far for a neighbor with whom you weren’t particularly close?”

I glared right back.

“I had to save her.”

“But it sounds like you already did, when you pulled her off the sidewalk—”

“That’s not good enough!” I burst out, startling Kunikida. “How could I say I saved her, truly saved her, if I knew she was going to die in a week and I did nothing to stop it?”

My hands clenched into fists.

“That doesn’t count. Saving someone means seeing it through to the end, to fully committing yourself and doing what’s right! Isn’t that what you did for me? What both of you did to bring me here today?”

Kunikida was struck dumb. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Dazai got to his feet.

“I think it’s about time I take Kusunoki-san back to her apartment,” he said, making his way to the door, his long tanned trench coat swishing elegantly as he moved.

He patted Kunikida on the shoulder.

“I’ll let you think about what we should tell the President later.”

Kunikida instantly flushed an angry, embarrassed pink.

“Dazai, you—”

Ignoring his partner, Dazai called out to me.

“Kusunoki-san? I won’t be taking you back to your original apartment tonight. We’ll be going to one of the Agency’s safe houses instead. After everything that’s happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Port Mafia had staked out your building and had someone ready and waiting for you at home. And if you’re wondering, Yamazaki-san is on her way to her nephew’s place in Nagano, so you won’t need to worry about her.”

“But what about my things?” I asked, “What am I gonna tell the landlord?”

“It’s already been taken care of,” Dazai replied, opening the door for me. “Shall we?”