#what are you supposed to say back? a keyboard smash??

[genuflectx]

Okay, been in a Discord for 2 months and a second one for about a week, trying to chat at least once a day... and fellas

How do y'all even do it? Somehow, chatting in Discords is as empty and lonely as not chatting at all ToT

Either everyone already knows each other and you don't get their jokes, or there's conversations that you don't even know what they're talking about (gibberish??), or long strings of people just sending reactions/gifs back and forth over and over for minutes at a time instead of talking?

And I don't get it ToT

Like is it just me?? Do I just not understand the modern social etiquette/culture for chatrooms? Am I supposed to butt in when people who know each other start talking about something random/inside jokes? Or am I possibly just not in the right servers for me?

So far, I have learned small talk is like pulling teeth (for the majority of chatters) and that you'd be better of sharing art on social media. Plus some random furry immediately asked me to lick their paws and rubbed them on me anyway when I said no >.>' (in a SFW chat)

So yeah.. how do you even do it >.< I have not made any consistent acquaintances after 2 whole months

[withleeknow]

thirteen percent.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; mentions of drinking, cursing, hella unedited and tbh i kinda gave up toward the end but i wanted to post smth lmao word count: 1.2k note: inspired by the events of friday night in which i had 1.3 bottle of soju and promptly passed out while unmuted all night in my discord server lmfao

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

the first thing you do when you wake up is scowl.

at the sun. at the sky. at the cars and at the people going about their day on the street below. at soonie and doongie when you find them just peacefully existing in their respective corners of the room.

at minho who's looking at you from the doorway with an amused expression on his face.

"look who's finally up," he says, approaching the bed with a glass of water in his hands. "it's almost 1pm, heathen."

you groan, covering your face with your hands as you try to sink further into the mattress. "why are you so loud today?"

"this is my normal volume?"

"your normal volume is loud."

"hmm, could this be because last night you knocked back an entire bottle of soju and then some and therefore you have a raging headache right now?"

you blink, still delirious from the night before. it's obvious that the alcohol hasn't completely left your system and minho is right. there's a pounding in your head and you wish it would stop.

you ignore his sassy quip, trying to recall what happened. "how did i get home?"

it was supposed to be a cozy night in with your friends. you'd been looking forward to last night for weeks because all of you had been so busy with your respective lives, and a fun girl's night was desperately needed. to catch up, to gossip about your partners, to escape your tiresome realities for a few hours.

and of course, to unwind and drink. not to the point of being blackout drunk; just to de-stress a little.

"how do you think?" minho asks, holding out the water for you until you muster enough strength to sit up and take it from him. he watches as you greedily gulp down the liquid to satiate your dry throat, giving him back the empty glass when you're done and lying back down again. he sets the glass on your bedside table before he joins you under the covers. "boyfriend of the year went out in the middle of the night to drag your ass home."

"you took me home?"

"i just said boyfriend of the year, didn't i?"

despite his smartass attitude, minho still snakes an arm around your body to pull you close to him, until your head is lying on his chest while he strokes your hair gently.

"it was just soju. plum soju!" you try to justify your actions, throwing a leg over his and snuggling further into the warmth of his body. "only thirteen percent!"

minho scoffs. "that's how they get you. the fun flavors make you think that you're gonna be fine if you do just a couple more shots. next thing you know, you're sending your boyfriend gibberish messages at 2am."

to emphasize his point, minho shows you his phone, goes straight to the text thread you two share.

you mostly sent him nonsense, seemingly a lot of keyboard smashes and blurry drunken selfies of you and your friends. then came the last few messages.

you: oh naue why rom sponnign you: i wsntto go homrr you: mimo tskeeee me homeee

"oh." you purse your lips. "drunk me was a moment."

"no, she was a lot of moments actually. you stayed up for almost two hours after i brought you home."

"doing what?"

your boyfriend looks down at you, an unimpressed look on his face before he rolls his eyes and sighs, recanting the story of how you exhausted him just hours prior.

"stop squirming," minho said, trying to keep your head from lolling to the side as he wiped at your face with a cotton pad doused in micellar water.

but you kept giggling, kept trying to hold his cheeks so you could kiss him. "mimo, you're so pretty. my pretty, pr-" hiccup! "pretty mimo."

it took him thirty whole minutes just to take your makeup off, then another forty five to go through your skincare routine.

-

it was an entire struggle to get you out of your clothes and into your sleepwear because apparently, the feeling of him tugging your blouse over your head and sliding your jeans down your legs tickled that amorous part of your brain - your horndog side, if you will.

you instantly latched onto him, climbing on top of him to sit on his lap, attempting to trail kisses along his neck when all minho was trying to do was put your t-shirt on.

"not now," he scolded you lightly, pushing you away by your shoulders before he held your arms up just long enough to slip the shirt over your body.

"whyyy not?"

"mostly because you're about ten seconds away from passing out."

but that wasn't something that your intoxicated brain could comprehend. all you understood was that your boyfriend didn't want to have sex with you, that he was rejecting you.

you went quiet all of a sudden, your lips pouting, your eyes turning glassy before you practically sob, "you don't want me anymore."

minho could only sigh.

-

"what now?" he had finally managed to get your restless ass into bed, thinking you'd surely knock out within seconds of hitting the sheets. but when he returned to the bedroom five minutes later, having cleared away your clothes to be put in the washer in the morning, minho found you lying on your side, your eyes glued to your phone, your face illuminated by the blue light coming from the device. "why aren't you sleeping?"

you were going through your camera roll, watching your old videos like they were your favorite tv show. videos of you and him, videos of him and the cats, or just random videos of him that you took when you thought he wasn't paying attention.

it was cute how you were so immersed, how you kept giggling and making heart eyes at the version of minho captured on your phone. it made him smile, just standing there and watching you like that.

it was beyond endearing, but it was also fucking 4:18am.

minho snatched the device away from you and put it somewhere you couldn't reach before he settled into bed with you.

"i miss my mimo," you whined. "give me back my mimo."

he knew there was no use in telling you that you didn't need to miss him when he, the object of your affection himself, was lying next to you. instead, he just yanked you closer, tucking your face into the crook of his neck and holding you tightly so you couldn't move, hoping that it would eventually lull you to dreamland.

"your mimo is right here. now go to sleep, you menace."

"and not to mention you kept-"

"nope." you put a hand over minho's mouth so he would shut up. "i've heard enough."

he pushes your hand away. "i deserve compensation for what i had to go through last night."

"the satisfaction of taking care of your wonderful girlfriend wasn't enough for you?"

"no," he says. then, you both just stare at each another for a few minutes.

"fine," you relent. "i'll make it up to you with one hundred kisses."

"i want a cat tower."

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos @mjnhoz @caitlyn98s @piercidh34rts  @stayceebs97 @linocz @yaorzu-blog @biribarabiribbaem @kayleefriedchicken

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 14.01.2024]

[ay4tou]

window neighbor | suna rintarou x reader

summary: it's hard gaining peace in a big world like this. especially when gaming. (un)fortunately, your insomniac neighbor doesn't keep his windows closed.

author's note: finally filling my haikyuu agenda (´ ε ` ) hehehe this took me a bit longer than i expected it to be (i was inspired by this) | masterlist

It’s 3 a.m. again. Your gaming chair is creaking as you lean back, groaning at your monitor. The match was supposed to be easy. An easy solo queue before bed.

But no. Your team decided to collectively forget how to play, and now you’re stuck babysitting four digital liabilities.

“Who the hell even runs into the enemy ult?” you mutter, smashing the keyboard with enough aggression to scare your poor keys. “What the fuck, man?! I swear, if I get matched with them again, I’m deleting this damn game.”

Your teammate dies (again), and you groan, turning your chair toward the kitchen for a midnight snack. But just as you stand up, you catch a familiar flicker of light from the window across the street.

There he is. Su...Sinu? Sina? Sona?

What was his name again?

He's also in his kitchen right now, of course. Your kitchen and room windows are directly across from each other, and they somehow always manage to be awake at the same ungodly hour as you. It also doesn't help that your neighbor has huge windows.

You squint. Tonight, he's hunched over a laptop, casually eating a bowl of cereal. You try to ignore the man, opening the fridge and grabbing a soda. But as you crack it open, you glance up again, just to check if he's noticed you.

He did.

Suna glances up lazily from their laptop, spoon halfway to their mouth. He meets your gaze, raises an eyebrow, and then smirks.

"Who the hell smirks in this situation?" You muttered to yourself.

You narrow your eyes and point at him accusingly through the window, mouthing, Why are you always awake?

He shrugs, as if to say, Why are you always awake?

The first time you noticed him, he was sitting in the kitchen at 2 a.m., wearing headphones and yelling at their screen.

Someone else raging at online games in the dead of night, just like you.

You thought it was hilarious.

But then you started noticing him every night. And not just gaming, he was always up to something ridiculous. You've even seen him build a gaming setup on the kitchen counter one night.

You weren’t proud of how often you found yourself glancing at his window. But in your defense, he started it. He'd catch your eye mid-game, smirk, and go back to the game like nothing happened.

Finally, one night, you’ve had enough.

Instead of grabbing your usual notebook for yet another passive-aggressive window message, you decide to try something new. You march into your bedroom, grab a neon sticky note, and write:

“Tired of staring? Join the game.”

You slap it onto the window and stepped back, arms crossed. Across the street, he notices immediately. He blinks at the note, squints to read it, and then gives you a thumbs-up.

You wait. You were unsure that he was serious until you see him disappear from his kitchen. A moment later, a notification comes up from your laptop. It’s a friend request. Finally.

[37/50] SunaRin wants to be friends.

Oh. His name was Suna.

You stare at the screen, heart thumping, before accepting. A message pops up almost instantly:

SunaRin: sup

SunaRin: wow r u a whale

SunaRin: ok lets see if ure as good as you pretend to be

Oh, it’s on.

The first game is chaos.

He’s reckless, diving headfirst into the 1v1, and somehow always coming out on top. Meanwhile, you’re scrambling to keep up, muttering curses under your breath as he racks up points.

y/n: can you like stop for a sec holy shit

SunaRin: lol not when im winning you loser

y/n: ???

You groan audibly, but when you glance out the window, you can’t help but notice the smug grin he flashes your way.

It just makes your blood boil.

The few days you've been playing with each other has been a roller coaster of anger, victory, and way too much caffeine.

But one day, your neighbor's usual antics suddenly stop.

You’re mid-game when his usual banter stops. He goes quiet, and his character stands still. You glance out the window to see him leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with a frustrated expression.

y/n: whats your deal

SunaRin: im bored

SunaRin: lets do something else

y/n: wdym something else

A second later, your phone buzzes. It’s a message from him.

“I’m tired of staring at your kitchen window. Meet me outside in 10.”

Your first instinct is to ignore it. This is weird. This is out of bounds. But curiosity... and maybe something else you don’t want to admit wins out.

Ten minutes later, you’re standing awkwardly in front of your building, wondering if you’ve been pranked. But then you see him walking toward you, hands stuffed in his hoodie pockets, looking as weird as ever.

“Wow,” he says, stopping in front of you. “You actually showed up. Didn’t think you had it in you.”

You cross your arms. “What’s this about? I was about to win that match, by the way.”

“Sure you were.” He grins, and for the first time, it doesn’t look smug. It looks nice.

“I figured we’ve spent so much time trash-talking each other, we might as well do it in person.”

“What? You dragged me outside just to insult me face-to-face?” you say, but there’s no real bite in your tone.

“Hmm, pretty much." he replies. “That, and I figured it’s about time I got to know my favorite neighbor.”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m buying coffee.”

“Oh, you’ll be buying it eventually,” he says, already walking toward the café down the street. “I’m just giving you a head start before I destroy you in tomorrow’s rematch.”

You follow, shaking your head but laughing under your breath. Turns out, losing a little sleep isn’t so bad when a new friend makes it worthwhile.

[mortuarywriting]

Its 1am and I should sleep but that's not happening so I'm thinking about this thing I've been turning over in my head.

Anyway here's how your softness as a fat partner to the 141 + whoever comes to mind with as a bonus is a grounding force

The mission was supposed to be short and easy. Drop in the bucket compared to some of the others, but when does it ever go like the brief? They're a week over, now, and while no news was good news you'd kill for a text. An emoji would be fine, you'd settle for a garbled keyboard smash as proof of life.

Still, civilian life doesn't stop while your partner is out risking their lives so the populace doesn't see just how close some calls get to total destabilization. You had to work and that meant in the evening you had to unwind before you lost your shit. So here you were, sat on the couch and distracting yourself and decompressing.

The click of the key in the door perked you right up, you paused whatever you were doing to turn and watch the door open, "welcome home! How did-oh," your happiness was paused, replaced by concern by the haunted look in the eyes you love so much. This was a rough one, so you went back to past experience, "do you need space, a pillow, or a weighted blanket?"

Price would stay quiet as he put down his duffel and take off his boots. You were already thinking through contingency plans to get him out of his head if this didn't work, but he sits himself on the couch next to you instead of in the armchair. He about collapses into the plush material more than sits down, but the raised arm is an invitation and you're not one to ignore it. You snuggle in, head on his chest and your weight a comfortable softness where he's hard muscle and strength holding you close. The both of you sit there for some time, you listen as his heart rate mellows as his thumb traces idle patterns into your side. You know eventually you'll both wind up out back sitting in the rocking chairs you gave him shit about getting, but there's nothing like it. You'd take sitting and rocking side by side out there while he has a smoke any day of the week, it meant you had each other and what else do you really need?

Ghost would stand in the doorway for a beat longer than he usually would, and you weren't sure if he'd stay or not. Hell, wouldn't be the first time he arrived on your doorstep just to go back to base without crossing your threshold. It's a pleasant surprise when he walks in, though, and his duffel falls with a thump. Sometimes he needs to put himself away and sometimes he needs your presence. This time it's definitely the latter as he just crosses the room, boots and all, just... climbs onto the couch to lay on it, pinning you where you sit within his grasp and his face pressed to your stomach. You feel your face soften as you run a hand along his back, a soothing presence as he holds you close. You feel him squeeze softly at your sides, fat moving just so in his grip to confirm he's in the present, he's safe, and if you were ambitious you might even say he's home. At some point you'll prod him enough to get him to bed, you were well aware he was too big to sustainably sleep on the couch without hurting his neck or back. Tomorrow you'd heckle him for the boots on the furniture but for now you were glad he was back in your arms.

Gaz offers you a smile when he opens the door, but you know that fake 'trying to reassure you' smile when you see it. He goes through the same home routine but it's more muscle memory than anything- duffel in its spot, boots off and away, hat and keys on the little table- but you don't need to call to him for him to come to you. No, he's dragging himself to you, exhaustion written in his features but you know he won't let himself go to bed without at least checking in. You smile and pat your lap, the easy compromise that has him giving you a soft but sincere smile. He settles onto the couch, laying on his back with his head in your lap as he fights to keep his eyes open. You know he's likely jetlagged to hell, so you start talking- about what he's missed since he was gone, which shows you two need to catch up on, only the hottest neighborhood bird feeder gossip- and you watch as the tension eases from his shoulders. He doesn't need to be on high alert in a combat zone- he's home, he can relax safe and sound.

Soap wastes no time- duffel dropped, door kicked shut, boots pulled off and dropped as he crosses the room to you. You yelp as he scoops you off the couch enough to flop on his back and hold you to his front, burying his face in your neck as he let's his hands roam. You huff, amused more than annoyed at him man-handling you. Well, among other feelings, but those come later, for now you hum and wrap your arms around his shoulders where you can, hugging him close. Sometimes he needed the extra grounding force, too much energy buzzing below his skin and your rocksteady presence a balm. You're happy to do it, you love this man through thick and thin and there were worse things than mandatory cuddles.

Bonus:

+ Kate gives you a weary smile before she stops through the kitchen. You smile as she comes back with a drink for both of you, though you know yours will be touched significantly less as you rest your head in her lap and hear her out as she talks about what she can. She runs her free hand down your shoulder, tracing patterns down the side as she does.

+ Nikolai you know is a 50/50, either he needs to keep his hands busy doing something else or he'll take you up on your offer. The odds seem to be in your favor, though, as he sits with you. You aren't exactly suprised when he pulls you into his lap, or when he takes a few minutes to just sit and listen to your heartbeat and steady breathing. He'll be back and bantering before you know it but for now he holds you tight, waves of soft weight pulling him back to a safe harbor.

Aaaaand now it's 2:30 time is an illusion (oops)

[prettyinpwn]

How Gravity Falls Could Have Been Better + Poor Ford and Wendy (GF Writing Analysis Pt. 2)

GF Writing Analysis Series: Pt. 1 - Ford Pines: A Masterclass in Writing a Good Flawed Character Praise the Axolotl, I feel horrible just writing that title. But let me preface this post with three statements:

I've been in this fandom since the first episode aired. I participated in this fandom while it was airing, and I will always cherish this fandom, those memories, and Gravity Falls itself even when I'm a crusty old lady in a rocking chair someday.

Gravity Falls is still my favorite show of all time, even as someone now nearing thirty years old. Nothing's ever topped it since in my mind, and I don't think anything ever will for me.

Writing and making a show is hard. It's easy for me to sit here and smash my little lady hands on a keyboard and criticize the Gravity Falls writing team's decisions. I'm sure if I'd been on that team, I'd have done a lot worse under that burnout and pressure, and I doubt I'll ever write anything anywhere near that critically acclaimed or beloved.

But... every time I've watched Gravity Falls from beginning to end, I've always felt that there was something off. And in recent rewatches, after I'd studied creative writing in college as a part of my minor, plus just having studied and done a lot of writing in my free time for years... I found out finally what it was:

The flaw, in my opinion, is the pacing. Gravity Falls is - and I mean this in the most respectful way to the writers, and I'm saying this as someone who will praise this show to my grave - poorly paced overall.

So what do I mean by that? Each contained episode is tightly written and nearly flawless in the pacing, but the overarching plot? I'll describe it like this: Picture a rollercoaster starting on a very, very slow incline. The scenery on the way up is gorgeous and entertaining to look at, but damn, you want to get to that peak that was teased in the advertisement of the ride. That first tease is what keeps you going on the slow incline. You know you're going to get there, but...

Okay, we're focused on getting accustomed to the seat, the people around us, how this rollercoaster feels, but... you check your watch. Are we there yet? What about that peak that was advertised? No, it's still a glacial incline. You inch upwards. It's godawful slow. You wait - and for those of us who watched when it aired during the hiatuses (which were more Disney's fault than the core team's, to my understanding) - it takes months to years.

Jesus Christ, you think. What about that tease? I want to know what's at that peak! Yes, I get tension and slow buildup, but this is taking FOREVER, and there have been no glimpses of the peak for eons. And then... suddenly, it gets more intriguing. There's a little bump. And another. And finally... there's another hint of the peak that you saw teased all the way back in the Stone Age.

Now, the ride consistently offers you little fun hills after that long, slow first incline. But seconds later BOOM! You skyrocket to that peak so fast your facial skin is flapping behind you. WOO! This is a blast! But holy hell, this is going a little fast compared to what it was like before. The last third of this ride must be MINDBLOWING, with lots of loops and spins and turns and even greater thrills, right?

And then the ride just drops almost face first to a plateau again. There are no more bumps, really. No loops. No twists. Just an almost straight, logical line back to Earth. Half the ride was pretty and made you laugh a lot despite how long it took, but the other half of the ride went so fast in comparison that it was just a blur. You're at the finish line now. Yes, it concluded like it was supposed to, but... is that it?

Rollercoaster metaphor over with, that's the pacing of Gravity Falls. For a more detailed visual example:

(Note - each episode is listed by their overall number. For example, 1 is Tourist Trapped, the peak at 31 is Not What He Seems, and the finale Weirdmageddon episodes are 38-40. Also, this is a rough, subjective view of the pacing tension, but generally... episodes that hinted or contributed to the overarching plot and tension earned higher points, and ones that added almost nothing besides comedy and character development that didn't necessarily add to the overarching plot were lower. The Weirdmageddon episodes are at a plateau since they - as finale episodes - serve to create as much tension as they do resolving it.)

Now, there are no hard and fast rules in writing, and every writer plots differently, but generally, this is the kind of pacing tension that's considered "good" (and that most common outlining techniques follow, just in different forms):

(Credit - please check out this page for a full explanation of each act.)

Generally, the trend is slow buildup. There's no plateau for eons, BOOM, then faceplant, like Gravity Falls. So that gets us to my main thesis of this post, building on what I bolded before:

Gravity Falls was too short because it's a three act story squished into a two act structure; the first season is paced like they were expecting three seasons - a season for each story act - and the second season is paced like they had to quickly fit the last two acts into one.

Why do I say this? Because there's a common writing plot point called the Midpoint / Plot Twist. So for those unfamiliar with writing techniques, let's explore what a Midpoint is:

"The Midpoint occurs at the 50% mark, halfway through the Second Act and (obviously) halfway through the book itself. Although many writers neglect the Midpoint in comparison to more noted moments such as the First Plot Point or Climax, the Midpoint is arguably the most significant beat within the story. It is what director Sam Peckinpah called the “centerpiece” of the entire story. Everything hangs upon it. In many ways, it is the moment that decides the ultimate fate of the story." "The Midpoint will feature at least one, possibly more, momentous revelations. Within the primary character arc and thematic exploration, the protagonist will encounter a Moment of Truth that forever changes his or her view of the story’s central philosophy. This revelation, perhaps in partnership with a further external revelation about the nature of the conflict itself, will forever evolve how the protagonist approaches the conflict—on both a personal and practical level. It signals a thematic shift from Lie to Truth (or vice versa) and an external shift from ineffective “reaction” to increasingly effective “action.” (Credit).

"But PrettyinPwn!", I hear you protest. "Gideon Rises is the episode smack dab halfway through the story and seasons! And that has a big reveal. And we learn a truth about Stan."

Yes, my sweet friends. Gideon Rises - and the reveal of what Stan's hiding in the basement - is a revelation, but the way the first season is paced, in my opinion it's what writers refer to as the First Act climax or Break Into Two. The Break Into Two is:

"Main character makes a choice and to go on the journey, and our adventure begins. We leave the “Thesis” world and enter the upside-down “Anti-thesis” world of Act Two."

(Credit).

Traditionally, this Break Into Two is literally stepping into a new world. Harry Potter getting to Hogwarts. Katniss Everdeen getting to the Capitol. Yadda yadda. But in Gravity Falls, it's more subtle:

We go from the "ordinary" world of Gravity Falls in Season 1 / Act 1 (which is anything but ordinary, but you get the point) where things are bizarre but lighthearted, to the "new" world of Gravity Falls in Season 2A / Act 2 where things are bizarre and definitely not lighthearted anymore. We've started to see the dark underbelly of this strange place and family, the seriousness ramps up, and... lo and behold... a B STORY pops up right at this point in full force, just like B Stories typically do right during or after the Break Into Two point. And that B Story? Is Stan's work on the portal and his search to find Ford, which was teased in the hook, all the way back at Tourist Trapped.

So no, Gideon Rises is not the real story Midpoint. The real story Midpoint is this nerd:

Let's look at those two plotline graphs again; Gravity Falls' and the typical one you see with three act structures:

Yes. Ford's reveal / Not What He Seems should have been smack dab near halfway through the series. But it's not. It marks the 75% point instead. Technically, if we follow the idea that the Midpoint should be roughly around 50% through the story, Not What He Seems should have taken place near where Gideon Rises is in the episode roster, and Gideon Rises should have been halfway through Season 1 (roughly near Fight Fighters).

So what caused this? Oh boy, I'm getting into speculation territory, and I know Hirsch has said it was meant to be this way, but based on the pacing flaws, here's my theory:

Hirsch and team wrote Gravity Falls Season 1 assuming there'd be three seasons; a season for each act of the story. They burned out, so compacted it down to two seasons, and fit all of Act 2 and 3 of the story into Season 2. That's why, at the time the episodes aired, Season 2 was referred to in two halves: Season 2A and Season 2B. Translation? Season 2A is Act 2 and what was supposed to be Season 2 but condensed, Season 2B is Act 3 of the story and what was supposed to be Season 3 but condensed.

TL;DR: In Gravity Falls, Act 1 = 50% of the story, Act 2 = 25% of the story, Act 3 = 25% of the story. AKA poor pacing. The equivalent in, say, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, would be if Harry spent 50% of the story at the Dursley's before getting to Hogwarts.

If Gravity Falls had had three seasons total, the slow buildup in Season 1 would be totally justified, as the first act of most stories takes its time to establish the characters and world. But we instead go from slow plateau to BOOM to faceplant, instead of a slow ride up to the top that consistently raises tension with a few peaks here and there, then a fun, bumpy ride of resolving the tension on the way down.

That's why Season 1 has a little hint of the overarching plot in Tourist Trapped with the Stan vending machine tease at the end of the episode - that's known in writer's circles as the "hook" or promise of the premise - and then literally almost nothing until the end.

I will reiterate: Season 1 is written like the writers thought they had enough time to pace Act 2 and 3 out over the same amount of episodes for each Act.

All this, combined with the fact that Season 2 has some very out of place episodes concerning the tension (*cough* Roadside Attraction *cough*, and no, I don't care that it was retconned later to have made sense), well... yeah.

But this didn't just affect the pacing. It also affected the characters' writing. Wendy barely got developed, Stan and Ford's backstory AKA the B plot got squished into two episodes, the government agents as an antagonist were "defeated" too soon to try to quick switch over to Bill Cipher for Season 2B / Act 3, and the most oof-worthy part? Ford got the short end of the writing stick.

I mentioned in another post that I think Ford is a fantastically written character as a concept, but unlike Stan, Dipper, and Mabel, his good writing relies more on subtext, rushed plotlines, and external materials (Journal 3, mainly). Thematically, as the show focuses on twins, parallelisms, juxtapositions, Ford should have had just as much "let's get to know this character!" focus and time to develop to the viewer as Stan did. But no, he got... what, roughly 4-5 episodes, some of them where his story was only the B plot? Literally, let's count:

Episodes with Stan plotlines: Tourist Trapped, Legend of the Gobblewonker, Headhunters, The Hand That Rocks the Mabel, The Inconveniencing, Dipper vs. Manliness, Irrational Treasure, Boss Mabel, Bottomless Pit, Land Before Swine, Dreamscaperers, Gideon Rises, Scaryoke, Soos and the Real Girl, Little Gift Shop of Horrors, The Love God, Not What He Seems, A Tale of Two Stans, DD&MD, The Stanchurian Candidate, Roadside Attraction, Weirdmageddon 1+3.

Episodes with Ford plotlines: A Tale of Two Stans, DD&MD, The Last Mabelcorn, Dipper and Mabel vs The Future, Weirdmageddon 1+3.

Ford feels like an afterthought. Dipper, Mabel, and Stan get 100% of the story to develop, and Ford gets less than 25%. Also factor in how Ford is the peak the viewer is waiting for, the whole mystery that keeps viewers on their toes for most of the story... and he gets ~5 episodes, and none of those are 100% focused on him.

It's like hosting a multiple course meal promising the main course - the steak - is gonna blow your mind. And then you get it 75% of the way through the meal and it's like... dime sized. It's a damn good little nerd steak, but it's so small, and we ate like three hundred Dipper and Wendy crush and Mabel crush and really well written and funny but effectively filler episode salads on the way here, including ones that weren't even canon (Bottomless Pit and Little Gift Shop of Horrors), interspersed with the occasional hint of steak with episodes like Dreamscaperers. Which would have been fine had there been an equal and increasing amount of steak, but no. To ask an age old question... WHERE'S THE BEEF?

A summary of Ford:

Worse yet, let's compare his introduction to Stan's introduction.

Stan (in Tourist Trapped): "Heya, I'm a grumpy old conman runnin' a tourist trap, and all I care about is money, but... hey, you kids want something from the Gift Shop?"

Ford (in A Tale of Two Stans): "Greetings, I just returned from sci-fi sideburn land, I'm just going to punch a character - my brother - beloved by the audience in the face after he did something very nice for me, tell my long backstory that kind of makes me look like a douche in multiple ways, plot convenience the antagonist away, then tell said beloved by the audience character / brother to get off my lawn."

No wonder why - after ATOTS aired - lots of people thought Ford was a Class A, prime US Grade, grass fed dick. And to this day, more people seem to love Stan over Ford in the fandom. We get context for his decisions later in... drumroll please... Journal 3. And subtext. Not even an episode.

We THEN understand that Ford punched Stan because of the thirty years of hell he went through, that he was just about to defeat Bill Cipher when Stan activated the portal therefore interrupting him, and Ford was upset that the Shack had made a mockery of his paranormal studies plus Stan had literally stolen his identity, completely turned his house around, and made him look like a conman... so we then have an 'OH!' moment and realize, "Hey, wait a minute, this guy has reasons for what he did. Maybe he was more justified than we thought, or at least as justified as Stan was.".

But not in the show. In a book released after. He is actually equally as well-written as Stan is, in concept. He's a great protagonist with realistic flaws and reasons. But he got a sad little salad in the writing department compared to Stan, Mabel, and Dipper's whole ten course caloric explosion buffet.

So what would have fixed this? Just like the overarching plot's pacing... another season. Season 1 + the first half of Season 2 could have been solving the mystery of Stan, and the second half of Season 2 and Season 3 could have been solving the mystery of Ford.

And that, my friends, is why Gravity Falls is too short.

~

Where does this leave us? Well, er... my next thought is... how would I have written Gravity Falls using the typical pacing progress?

Well, for starters, let's decide this: how many seasons do we want overall? The two options are...

A. Two seasons like it is now, but shorten each story Act.

B. Three seasons, each season is one Act of the story.

If Gravity Falls were just two seasons long in this hypothetical outline, this is what I'd do:

Take out the Dipper/Wendy love subplot. I'm sorry, we all knew while we were watching it that it would go nowhere. I remember watching it as a teen girl as the show aired and being so damn bored with it as a subplot. Especially because... as it stands, most of Wendy's purpose is as Dipper's crush. She never got her own episode.

Put Gideon Rises as Episode 10 instead of Fight Fighters. Make Not What He Seems as the Season 1 finale.

Take out a lot of the "filler" episodes in Season 1. I hate to say this, because I love a lot of the Season 1 episodes. But to pace it better, I'd say order the episodes in Season 1 like this: Tourist Trapped The Legend of the Gobblewonker The Hand That Rocks the Mabel The Time Traveler's Pig Little Dipper Boss Mabel Carpet Diem Land Before Swine Dreamscaperers Gideon Rises Scary-oke Into the Bunker The Golf War Soos and the Real Girl Sock Opera (Any of the "filler" episodes from Season 1 or 2 here) Blendin's Game Society of the Blind Eye Northwest Mansion Mystery Not What He Seems

And as for season 2:

A Tale of Two Stans Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons Then... Here we have a big gap, because we put many Season 2 episodes in Season 1. We squished all that plot into Season 1, so what do we fill episodes 3-17 of Season 2 with? I'll tell you what: More Wendy and more Ford. In this version of the outline, Dipper and Mabel are present characters in every episode, with a special focus on Stan and Soos to a smaller extent in Season 1. So to make it even, I'd make this version of Season 2 have a big focus on Ford and then Wendy to a smaller extent, mirroring how Stan and Soos are focused on in Season 1. And just like the antagonist of Season 1 - Gideon - with a little bit of the government agents, have this season have a few more episodes with the government agents and then Bill as the big final bad.

This gap here gives us ~14 episodes to develop these characters. I also think The Last Mabelcorn should be in here somewhere, so make that 13. If we parallel Season 1, then roughly... Bill should get two episodes as a main antagonist like Gideon did before his finale in Gideon Rises. Wendy should get two episodes as a deuteragonist like Soos did in Season 1.

The Bill episodes could hint more at his backstory like Journal 3 did, have him mess with Ford more and tease at Ford's "sing to me O Muse" backstory with him (because more Ford parallels with Odysseus are always welcome).

The Wendy episodes could delve into the same issues Soos' episodes did: Wendy Episode #1: Her dating issues, but instead of finding someone like Soos did, she's happily single at the end. I vote a plot where Wendy is ready to date again after the Robbie fiasco, Mabel tries to set her up with someone new, tied to a B plot with Ford where Mabel digs into his dating life, finds little to none, and then both Ford and Wendy realize at the end that it's okay to be single and not ashamed of it in a romance obsessed society (also Ford on the ace spectrum ftw, personal headcanon though). Better yet, have it have a kid friendly explanation that some people love differently; actually show that Wendy is Bisexual and Ford is - I'd argue - Ace (or straight or gay but just super bad at relationships because of pouring himself into his work and his other flaws, fear of sharing his baggage with others, etc). Not that Disney would have allowed LGBT+ at that time, because, well... Disney.

This would simultaneously make Wendy A. NOT just a crush figure tied to romance, as female characters often get relegated to, and B. help Ford parallel some insecurities about how he compares himself to Stan, just like Stan compares himself to Ford in the episodes that actually aired, especially if we keep The Stanchurian Candidate as one of the episodes but involve Ford more in it. Have Mabel pull a Jane Austen's Emma and learn to stop being a busybody matchmaker. This idea - in my opinion - is way cooler and less ethically ambiguous than The Love God.

Wendy Episode #2: Her family issues, AKA her dead mother. Make it real tearjerky with a B plot tie to how Stan or Ford never got to see their parents again after the portal accident and before their parents died, and parallel it with Wendy regretting something regarding her mother before she died. This would give us a chance to explore more about Wendy as a character, and both Filbrick / Caryn (AKA Stan and Ford's parents) as characters, as well. I would also lean more towards having her bond with Ford over Stan in this episode. Or, alternatively, you could tie this to Dipper and Mabel and their parents. Because you can't tell me that their parents did NOT have questions about what was going on after Mabel sent that letter home about her "two grunkles".

But why so many Ford with Wendy plots? Because Soos is already the Shack employee tied a lot to Stan, so to parallel, you could have Wendy bond more with Ford. At first glance, this seems like it'd be an odd duo, but Wendy probably could relate to Ford's experiences of feeling like the responsible one in the family, hiding how much they care about things under a more calm facade, the fact that Wendy's dad built the Shack for Ford, maybe add Wendy having an underlying interest in science or the paranormal that she deadens down to fit in that Ford finds out about and tries to encourage her to not hide anymore to tie in with his theme of "it's okay to be weird". You could do a million things with Ford and Wendy subplots.

So that leaves us with a total of nine other episodes to devote to Ford here in this season space. I mean, picture it... in my original counts of how many episodes Stan vs. Ford got in the real version of the show that aired, Stan had around 23 episodes that featured him.

In this version of the outline, Stan would get 14-15 episodes featuring him. Ford would get 14 episodes featuring him. CHEF'S KISS; EQUAL TREATMENT BY THE WRITING. But what would these episodes be about?

A. More bonding and arc between Dipper and Ford. Dipper would go from "notice me Ford senpai / hyperventilating" to "holy crap the Author is as awesome as I thought he'd be!" to "wait a minute, this guy's got some flaws" to "maybe this isn't who I want to become?" to make Dipper's rejection of the apprenticeship feel more natural and take the blame heat off of Mabel (as the fandom's been eager to place).

If Dipper's reasoning for rejecting the apprenticeship was not just "Mabel needs me" but a combination of "Mabel needs me, Stan needs Ford more than I do, Mabel was right and I don't need the Journals / the Author / Ford to be a hero, and I don't want to become Ford", it'd make a lot more sense. Because thematically, the plot of Gravity Falls resolves BECAUSE Dipper and Mabel don't become Ford and Stan; they avoid the mistakes they made, and in doing so, heal the literal and metaphorical rift. And it also makes more sense for Dipper's character arc, which was always about self-confidence.

That, and I think it'd have been great for Dipper to have had a trust - distrust - trust again arc with Ford like he did with Stan. "Oh, Ford's so cool" to "Ford lied to me about Bill!" to "Ford is flawed, but he's still the great uncle I love now". Put a Dark Night of the Soul in there, where Dipper literally 'Trusts No One!'. Not even Ford. Have him teeter on the precipice of going down Ford's dark path, but Mabel saves him from fully falling into it. And have Ford have a Dark Night of the Soul, where now even Dipper doesn't trust or like him, and so Ford feels totally outcasted by his family like Stan felt years ago.

B. Slower plot twist revelations about Ford's past with Bill Cipher. Start him out reluctant to talk about it, especially in front of Dipper, who views him as a hero that Ford so desperately wants to be. Explore some of his trauma, what his choices have cost him, etc. Hell, I'm pretty sure Ford's got some form of PTSD, so throw a plotline in there about Ford isolating a lot because of it. Of course, since kids are a primary audience of the show, you can't get too dark, but you can't tell me Ford didn't experience some messed up stuff on the other side of the portal.

C. Goddamn, take some of Ford's multiverse explorations from Journal 3 and make them actual episodes. What a wasted opportunity in the show. And it better have Jheselbraum in it, or I riot.

D. More Ford bonding with Mabel. Please, for the love of God, I know Dipper and Ford are nerdtopia buddies, but Ford and Mabel would get along so well. They're both weirdos at heart, sweater twins, the older twins, and love the odd and the artistic. Make a B plot with Stan and Dipper bonding, maybe even after Dipper's loss of respect for Ford, and have Dipper "side" with Stan while Mabel starts to "side" with Ford more, almost getting lost in Stan and Ford's rift themselves. Because goddammit, we're riding this juxtaposition and parallelism and thematic train into the Sun!

E. GIVE FORD MORE MOMENTS TO LOOK LIKE A CARING, SWEET GRUNKLE. Stan got a truckload of chances to shine and for the twins to bond with him. Can... can Ford have the same thing? Please? Here, elevator pitch: Ford being forced to put science away to watch the twins for a day because Stan's busy, he reluctantly agrees, and by the end he's just as much of a softie for them as Stan is. Or have Dipper and Mabel get in trouble, Stan and Ford have to work together to save them; have them sabotage each other, trying to look like the better Grunkle, but then pulling their heads out of their asses and working together reluctantly and realizing they actually have fun on adventures like they used to (which would foreshadow their choice to go on Stan-O-War II adventures later).

F. By God, I don't care if Gideon's already in jail by this point, plot-wise. This boy spent episodes chasing the Author's journals. I need to see the look on his face when he realizes the Author is his arch-nemeses' twin brother / great uncle. Please. Have him start a rivalry with Ford that goes as horribly as you'd expect because Ford would use 30 years of multiverse experience to punt this kid into the next dimension for multiple reasons, one of them being having summoned Bill Cipher, another being having used his journal for nefarious purposes.

G. Don't make the government agents go away so easily. Foreshadow Stan's return of memory in Weirdmageddon 3 with the agents remembering what happened before the memory gun wipe in Not What He Seems, not only to utilize them better as antagonists, but to increase the stakes, and also to make Stan's memories returning later seem more plausible. Have Ford play a part in getting rid of them as a threat.

Or have them switch from antagonists to allies once they realize Bill Cipher is the real threat, but have them fail to neutralize Bill to make him seem that much more insurmountable and the Pines' defeat of him that much more of a feat. To wrap up them as an obstacle, just have them thank the Pines at the end and then have them put forth the whole "Never Mind All That" act and keep the stories of the weirdness contained to Gravity Falls. Have them try to lock Stan and Ford up still, though, but realize that they're gone on the Stan-O-War II trip (which, if that story's ever made into a show, they could serve as continued antagonists chasing after the Stans).

H. More Pacifica. Make her redemption more believable. Give her another subplot in Season 2, maybe following the plotline she had in the Lost Legends comic side story with Dipper. In fact, give her a B plot episode storyline with Ford; have them bond over having had to be perfect golden children with a parent(s) that care way too much about money, and it gives Dipper and Mabel more context and understanding about Ford's struggles. There. It writes itself.

I. More McGucket. I want to see Ford angst more about what happened between them. Then, finally, after all these episodes with The Last Mabelcorn somewhere amongst them... Dipper and Mabel vs. The Future Weirdmageddon 1 Weirdmageddon 2 Weirdmageddon 3

And ta-da! You'd have a version of Gravity Falls with two seasons with more fair attention to Wendy and Ford, more evenly paced tension and plot twists, and an antagonist cycle that goes from town enemy to world enemy to multidimensional enemy. ~

As for a three season version of this outline, keep Season 1 completely as is, make Not What He Seems episode 10 of Season 2, and... this is a bold suggestion, but turn the Season 2 finale into Dipper and Mabel vs The Future and make the Weirdmageddon episodes into a whole season. Make the failure to stop the rift really hurt, and use the whole of Season 3 to have the Pines figure out how to stop the end of the world. Use some of it to rebuild the portal, explore some of the Multiverse to find a solution, have them try to find Jheselbraum to help discover more about Bill and his weaknesses and his previous attempts on Earth to break reality (like Modoc's story in Journal 3, in fact, have an episode where they time travel back to Modoc which would give him inspiration to have drawn the prophecy wheel on the cave wall that Ford found hundreds of years later), gather the whole gang and build the Shacktron, have it fail and have to use the prophecy wheel... But wait, it fails, too, and Bill scatters everyone involved across the Multiverse instead of making them into banners - while also destroying the portal - to buy himself some time to get Ford to give up the solution to breaking free from Gravity Falls. Explore the Multiverse more to gather everyone again, use each episode to devote yet more time to developing each character, parallel Ford's journey in the Multiverse for 30 years. Maybe even have a bit of a subplot where Ford breaks from Bill and tries to rebuild the portal to get everyone back, paralleling Stan's struggle to get him back for 30 years.

Learn more about who Ford was those thirty years he was gone. Use the Multiverse episodes to make Stan sympathize more with what Ford went through for thirty years. Have Jheselbraum reference the whole "you have the face of the one who will destroy Bill" to Stan instead of Ford like she did in the past, and have Stan be confused at first, thinking Ford will be the hero again. Dark Night of the Soul up in this season, man, and make the prophecy wheel fail again, and Stan realize yep, time to brain zap, Jheselbraum was right, but HE'S the one that has to stop Bill, not Ford. And THEN try Stan's conman trick to trap Bill in his mind.

And that's how I'd rewrite Gravity Falls as three seasons.

~

I'll say this: after all that criticism I just laid out, you might think I hate Gravity Falls as it is now. No. I love this show. It won't leave my brainspace and lives there rent-free, like Bill does in Stan's mind. And I will say, I understand 100% why it was written the way it was. They seemed to have had a plan in Season 1, switched gears between seasons, and tried to wrap up two seasons of plot in one season for Season 2.

And they did it with little to no flaws in terms of the overarching plot. They told the story they wanted to. They pulled a Stan and took some shortcuts, but had good intentions and got the job done. And the show is still like... an A- to solid A grade show even with these flaws.

But it could have been nearly flawless and A++ had they either planned for two seasons from the start, or powered through the burnout to make three whole seasons (which is easy for me to say, as someone that didn't have to live through what must have been hair graying levels of stress).

All in all, I'm curious to hear others' thoughts on my critique, or if anyone would like to add more about what they'd put in this hypothetical Season 2 or 3. Or if you'd prefer the two seasons still as they are, or as I hypothetically rewrote them, or as the three seasons idea I explained above. Or if you think I'm just crazy, and that Gravity Falls is perfect as is.

[fantasticsandwich]

yandere influencer x fem! reader (pt 10)

Your pen hovered above the notebook, forming neat loops and lines as you transcribed notes. The library was a cocoon of hushed tones and the soft shuffling of pages turning. Connor sat opposite you, his brow furrowed in concentration, his foot tapping beneatht he table.

“Hey,” he murmured, without looking up from his textbook, “what’s the term for—”

Your gaze flickered up to glimpse at the page he was pouring over. “Homeostasis,” you offered swiftly, not missing a beat in your writing.

“Right,” he replied with a chuckle. “Thanks.”

He leaned forward to copy the answer, but his arms remained stiff in the confines of his leather jacket. There was hardly any room to move in that thing, and, coupled with his skinny jeans, was a fashion nightmare. However, your main concern for him involved the weather. Despite being inside this air-conditioned library, the heat managed to cling to every crevice of your body, and Connor, for sure, had to be roasting silently underneath his clothes, too.  

You didn’t know how he could endure it all—in an all-black get-up as well—until you remembered Connor shared genes with Cillian, whose philosophy was to sacrifice comfort for fashion. Inexplicable qualities like that were hereditary, stored in DNA.

But you weren’t having it because it was hot, the vents were malfunctioning, and your palms were slick with sweat. If Connor didn’t take off his jacket, then you were going to perish from dehydration just by looking at him.

“You should take off the jacket.” Crossing your arms, you leaned back in your chair.

“Is it because of my shoulders?” Connor replied, continuing to type on his laptop. “Do you want to see them?”

There was a certain rhythm to his keyboard smashes—almost like he was playing a game rather than coding a program for his project like he was supposed to.

“Just listen to me,” you stated bluntly, watching his eyes narrow at the screen. “You forgot to listen to me three days ago and look where we are. In the library, without air conditioning! My favorite study room has a portable one!”

At your remark, Connor briefly looked up. “What happened to the nice Y/N? Where is she?”

“I stopped being nice when you lied about reserving a study room for us,” you replied instantly, slouching in your chair, as the cold metal cooled your skin temporarily.

“Forgive me. I have a short term memory.”

“And I’m sure you forgot about the plan you made in the group chat.”

“Oh.” Connor grinned, taking the time out of his day to hurl a wink in your direction. “No, I wouldn't forget those for the world. I can’t wait.”

Typical first year ignorance. How hadn’t Connor realized everyone wanted to study when it was the last day of finals.

"Blaise is coming, you know.” There was a tone in Connor’s voice you didn’t like. “Just ignore Rian and I. Enjoy your new boy toy.”

“All of us,” you emphasized, "are simply eating together.” You rolled your eyes, stumbling a bit in your seat when a person behind you bumped their chair into yours in an attempt to get out, their bag barely missing your shoulder. “Besides, Blaise and I are just friends.”

Connor nodded fervently, though his gaze remained concentrated on the screen as always. “Love is blind indeed.”

“Did you forget that I’m in a class with your crush?” You were definitely going to talk to a certain girl if Connor kept this up. 

“That’s old news.” The slight blush on his skin, however, begged to differ. 

“I remember a certain someone confessing to me how he found her sooooo—” you couldn’t help but smile through the taunt. “—cute. That he wanted her number so badly. That he was going to write a letter confessing his undying love.”

“Stop saying things out loud.” Connor’s frustration caused your smile to stretch even wider. He had closed his laptop, leaning forward to speak in a hushed voice, the outline of his biceps visible underneath his leather jacket that he should have taken off.

“You should’ve listened to me and booked a room, then.”

Connor's lips twitched. “My classmates might be here.”

“And whose fault is that?” You leaned forward, languidly planting your cheek in the palm of your hand, challenging him. 

“You’re lucky I’m still studying with you.” Connor reopened his laptop, resigning himself to defeat. 

“Did you forget to invite me?”

When you turned, there stood Cillian. The sight of him was jarring; he had freshly dyed hair, an atrocious green that would’ve looked bad on anyone else. It certainly was… bold.

However, in his typical fashion, he layered an unbuttoned, navy blue short-sleeved dress shirt over a long white shirt—followed with beige slacks and casual black dress shoes. The silver necklace, however, was an accessory you hadn’t seen before, but you did recognize those signature earrings.

“Didn’t know you would be here.” Connor straightened his posture and removed his backpack from the chair beside him, settling it down between his legs. “Are you studying for finals, too?”

“Studying hard or hardly studying?” Cillian quipped, leaning against the edge of their table with a playful smile on his lips.

Connor glanced up, his attempt at a bad-boy scowl melting into a sheepish grin. “Just trying to get some last-minute knowledge into this thick skull of mine.”

“Looks like you could use all the help you can get,” Cillian retorted, the twinkle in his eye belying the sharpness of his words.

Blinking rapidly, you dismissed an image of Cillian and a hair straightener from your mind. “Do you have your last exam soon?”

“I finished it a bit ago now,” he replied and took the seat at your side.

Connor dragged his chair to the side in an attempt to provide more room, but it only resulted in a harsh screech.

You winced. “Was there something you had to do in the library?”

“I’m meeting with that painter soon, but he'll be late.” Cillian’s eyes flickered between you and Connor. “He’s giving me one of the portraits from the gallery.”

“Oh, him! The one with a beard and funky glasses?”

Cillian nodded, and his earrings shined against the natural light seeping through the library windows. It made you want to play with them.

“Connor,” you started, capturing his attention, “have you seen the paintings of Cillian at the gallery?”

Grinning, Connor reclined back against his seat, arms crossed. “Who didn’t?” He raised a brow towards Cillian, who stared back at him. “He’s related to me, so of course he looks good.”

“Wow. Very humble of you.”

“I am the humblest person alive.”

“Pack it up, Pinocchio.”

“Okay, Grinch.”

Just as you were about to continue bickering, you noticed Cillian tapping across the table. If there was one thing your years of friendship with him taught you, then it was that he was feeling left out. 

“Nah, Cillian’s the grinch,” you corrected, relishing the way his face brightened. “He even dyed his hair to match. He wants everyone to finally see how his exterior matches the insides.”

Connor pursed his lips as he also scrutinized Cillian from head-to-toe. “Hmm… I never would’ve thought so, but now that you mention it… Agreed.”

When you heard the slight huff underneath Cillian’s breath, you couldn’t resist the urge to further tease him. 

“He’s got his brows furrowed permanently,” you said, sing-songy, and you watched how Cillian was adjusting his bangs to cover them, his cheeks slightly reddening from your words—or maybe they were already flushed from the heat of this poorly funded building. 

“Always got a frown on, too,” Connor quipped with a tsk. 

“Totally,” you said. “Lee, you look so much prettier when you smile.”

You expected him to respond, but all you got were dark eyes and long lashes peering back. Cillian wasn’t speaking. Did you say something upsetting?

“Do you mean like this?” Cillian tilted his head, lips curling upwards. “Like this? Is this what you want me to do?”

“U-Um, yeah, I guess.” You rubbed the nape of your neck. Cillian should stop staring at you like that. 

“What else do you want me to do? If it’s for you,” he mused, still keeping his smile, “I would do anything to serve you. You’re the most important person to me.” he drew out this word far too long for your liking. His voice lowered dangerously low. “Will you let me? Or do I need to show you how lost I am without you? How you need to depend on me too because I’m here for you?”

Internally, you had to remain collected, but with that smile still plastered on his face, you were beginning to wonder what he was trying to provoke out of you. He knew you disliked misunderstandings, and you weren’t exactly fond of the way his words could be interpreted, especially with Connor around. 

“Isn’t that what good friends are supposed to do?” You rolled your shoulders, quickly observing Connor’s reaction, which was normal, you guessed. Thank goodness he occupied himself with his laptop again. You could deal with his occasional glances. “We’re supposed to be there for each other.”

Hands waving around restlessly, you made sure to emphasize your pointed laugh, a desperate plea for Cillian to tone it down.  Then, discreetly, you began to monitor who else could be listening. Fortunately, the library was mostly empty. You heard far-off chatter, but none in the immediate area.

“Who wants to print out my essay?” Connor’s doe eyes blinked innocently, lips jutted out in a pout.

“You’re a big boy,”  you teased. “Go do it yourself.”

“Fine.” He pouted, rising from his seat and gathering a stack of papers. “Back in a sec. Don’t review too much without me.”

As Connor walked away, the printer in the corner whirring to life, you felt the air shift. You tried to maintain the rhythm of your studies, but Cillian's gaze felt heavy upon you.

“Y/N,” Cillian began, leaning closer, “you know, you look pretty today. That skirt really is your color. That's the one I bought you, isn't it.”

“Yeah,” you managed, tone polite yet strained, as you clung to the remnants of your focus. “We should probably keep quiet. The library…”

“Ah, yes,” he whispered theatrically, reverently dipping his head, “the sacred temple of knowledge. I’ll bow to its goddess.”

His eyes gleamed with mischief, and it became clear to you that Cillian saw himself as more than just a patron of this temple—he fancied himself its god.

Your fingertips danced along the edges of your textbook pages, a futile attempt to anchor yourself in the anatomy before you.

“Quiet places have a way of making your thoughts loud, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes, but it’s good for concentration.”

“But what about the heart? Does it not yearn for distraction?”

You felt the unease nudge at you, a whisper in the recesses of your mind. You observed Cillian, who sat there like Adonis in designer jeans, radiating an aura of untouchable perfection.

“Distractions can be troublesome,” you said, eyeing your notes again. A diagram of the human heart stared back at you, labeled and cold, offering no insights into the flutterings of your own.

“Y/N,” Cillian began, his voice carrying a gravity that turned your stomach. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into yours. “Would you ever consider being more than just friends?”

The question hung in the air, stark and unwelcome against the backdrop of the library. You blinked, your heart lodging itself firmly in your throat. You searched Cillian’s face for some sign of jest, finding none.

“Cillian, I—” You started, but he cut you off.

“Ever since I saw you, I knew,” he said, certainty lacing his words. “You were meant to be mine.”

You fought to keep your expression neutral, though your pulse quickened beneath your skin. How long had he harbored such thoughts? And why you, when so many courted his attention like moths to a flame?

“Always?” you asked, skepticism masked by curiosity.

“Always,” he affirmed, his gaze never wavering. “I’ve watched you, seen the way you care for me, the way you make me want to be a better person. I don’t know what I’d do if anyone else got a hold of you. I need you to be mine.”

“You know how much I value our friendship,” you began.“It’s… It’s precious to me.”

“Friendship,” he echoed, tilting his head slightly, a lock of his dyed hair falling across his forehead in calculated disarray. His phone lay forgotten beside his bag, its screen reflecting a paused image of social media perfection—a life curated for likes and adoration, but lacking the genuine connection that you craved.

“You’re precious to me, too,” he continued, his lips curving into a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. “But sometimes, friendship evolves, transforms into something… More.”

You felt the insidious tendrils of jealousy wrap around you thoughts, tightening like the coils of pythons as you considered the privilege placed upon someone like Cillian—handsome, charismatic, expected to capture any heart he desired. And yet, here he was, seeking yours. Why?

“Evolution takes time and care. I wouldn’t want to rush or misinterpret the natural progression of things.”

Your gaze flickered to the empty chair beside you, Connor’s absence a silent witness to your struggle. The room's fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting stark shadows that seemed to dance upon the open pages, mocking your attempts to navigate this labyrinth without a thread to guide your way.

“We just got out of a fight. Please, let’s not complicate what we have.”

Cillian rose, his movements deliberate as the chair scraped against the library's silence. He loomed over  you, casting a shadow that felt all too constricting. His lean frame bent toward you.

“How many times have I said you don’t need to beg?” he murmured, his voice low. His fingers grazed your hand, leaving a trail of unwelcome warmth. The fluorescent lights above flickered. “Look at my Y/N,” he continued, his lips curling into a knowing smile. “So devoted to your studies, to your future. I adore that about you, but it makes you forget about now. About us.”

You tried to shift back, to reclaim the space his presence had stolen, but the solid table behind you offered no escape.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Cillian pressed on, his eyes glinting with the same intensity as Narcissus reflecting upon his pool. “All those likes, comments—they're nothing compared to having you by my side. I love it when you take pictures only because it means your attention is only on me. I want you to admire me. I want you to have me in a way no one else can.”

His proximity was oppressive. You inhaled sharply, the scent of ink and anxiety filling your lungs. The digital clock on the wall ticked away seconds, each one stretching out.

You met his gaze, the clarity of your ambition clouded by the storm of his will. In his eyes, you saw the reflection of your own doubt—was your resistance doomed to fail?

“We’re good friends,” you reminded him, the words tasting of honey laced with poison. “I value you too much to risk losing that.”

“Again with that,” he scoffed gently, leaning closer until his breath caressed your ear. “This is just the beginning, isn’t it? We could be so much more. Everything we’re meant to be.”

His touch traced the line of your jaw. As you sat pinned beneath his intense scrutiny, your thoughts scattered like the feathers of a bird plummeting into a crystalline window, like a fly landing on a spider’s plate. Each word he uttered wove a web you feared might soon entangle you completely.

You hadn't thought about it before, but considering it now... Having a boyfriend like Cillian wouldn't be too bad. Handsome, wealthy, eager to remain at your side. He hadn't so much as mentioned another girl in your presence.

Your heart hammered in your. “Let’s discuss this later, Lee,” you whispered urgently. “Someone might see us. Connor could come back any minute.”

The plea hung between you, a fragile thread threatening to snap under the weight of his gaze. Cillian's eyes held your, dark pools reflecting none of the fluorescent light above but seeming to absorb it, along with your resolve.

“Let them see,” he replied, his tone smooth as marble yet with an edge that could slice through the strongest of armors. “Let Connor see. It changes nothing of what I want, which is you. I want to be more than friends. I want to make you happy. I want to belong to you, so why won’t you let me? Is there someone else? Is he better than me?”

“This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t what we both yearn for in the quiet spaces between our heartbeats? You can’t keep denying that you feel something for me. Longing hurts. I don’t like seeing you in pain. You should just give in.”

“Cillian, step back. You’re crowding me.” Your hands pushed against his chest, a feeble attempt at creating distance, but he was a fortress, immovable and unyielding.

“Because I’m being sincere,” Cillian insisted, his tone now a mix of softness and steel. “In a world made of artifice, I offer you something real. I offer you, me. Being apart from you nearly killed me. I can’t go through that again.”

Killed him? The blood drained from your face. Your senses were awash with the scent of his cologne mixed with the dust of forgotten literature, a heady perfume that clouded judgment. Your inner turmoil churned like a restless sea, knowing that no matter how much you swiped at the surface, the depths remained untouched and dark, mirroring the enigma of Cillian's soul.

He was beautiful. He was enticing. He was already yours.

“Okay,” you said. “I’ll… I’ll try it out.”

He grinned, flashing his teeth. “You’ll be what to me?”

“Your… Your girlfriend.”

As the word left your lips, a shrill whistle cut through the stillness of the library. Connor sauntered into view, his leather jacket creaking with each step. His boyish face bore a cheeky grin, his eyes blissfully unaware of the gravity that held you captive.

“Look at you two, all serious and scholarly,” Connor teased, his voice lilting with humor that carried no knowledge of the storm brewing beneath the calm. “I leave for one minute and find our little library mouse caught by the cat.”

His words were playful, innocent, yet they stung you like thorns on a rose. Your forced a smile, your hands instinctively smoothing the fabric of your attire as if to wipe away the discomfort his observation brought.

“Connor,” you said, mustering a brightness you did not feel, “it’s not what it looks like.”

“It is very much what it looks like.”

Without warning, Cillian’s lips met yours in a chaste kiss, fleeting like the ghost of a butterfly's wing. A warmth bloomed there, unwanted yet undeniable, and with it, a swirl of relief and anguish.

Connor’s claps echoed through the hushed library aisles, his jubilant proclamation resonating against the silence.

“Finally!” He exclaimed, his voice carrying a parent-like pride. “Oh, that’s so cute! You two are perfect together! Like a king and queen! You’ll be the campus power couple.”

You feigned a chuckle, a hollow sound that did not belong to you, and turned your gaze back to the open textbooks that seemed to blur before your eyes. The words on the pages mingled and danced away from your understanding..

“Let’s focus on studying,” you murmured, trying to escape.

But Cillian was a force more potent than gravity. His hand traced a path over your waist, claiming territory with an entitled sense of ease. As he nestled close, his head found its resting place upon your shoulder, the locks of his hair brushing against your skin.

“Connor’s right, you know,” said Cillian, the darkness in his tone masked by the lightness of his smile. It was a siren song, beautiful and dangerous. “Together, we’re destined for greatness.”

“Right, destined,” you echoed, as if saying the words could make them true.

Connor looked on, oblivious to the undercurrents. He bobbed his head, plugged into his own rhythm, content in the narrative he had woven around his cousin and his friend.

“Back to the grind then,” Connor said, settling into his chair with the easy grace of someone unburdened by doubt or deceit.

You nodded, eyes fixed on the jumbled hieroglyphs of your textbook. A sense of defeat settled in your bones, a dead weight upon your wings as you struggled to rise above the chaos of your mind, struggling to accept this new reality.

Cillian's voice, soft and coaxing, sliced through the library's silence. “Y/N,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. “Would you touch me?”

You jolted, as if struck by lightning. Your startled gaze met his, searching for the jest that would surely be dancing in his eyes; but all you found was a depth you couldn't fathom, an abyss with no clear exit.

“I mean my hair,” he clarified, his hand guiding yours to the crown of his head, where the soft strands awaited your tentative touch. Obeying, your fingertips grazed his scalp. Eyes crinkling, his lips curled into a smile. The warmth from his head seeped into your palm.

Around, the hushed whispers of pages turning and keyboards tapped. But now, you remained still, caught in the web of his allure, your eyes helplessly mapping the contours of his face—the high cheekbones, the sharp jawline hinting at a strength belied by his gentle touch.

“Feels good,” he whispered, a victorious gleam in his eye, as if your compliance had been the nectar he so craved.

Smiling back, you withdrew your hand slowly.

“Cillian, I—”

“Focus on your studies for now,” he said softly. He squeezed your waist reassuringly. “I won’t leave. You’ll always have me.”

special long chapter coming to you live from the library! now that the feelings are all out there, i'm excited to develop y/n and cillian's relationship and to show how it'll affect the others, too. i originally had other chapters between this and the previous planned, but i thought to just spur into the actual yandere-ness lol.

[night-market-if]

Update

Just popping in to say that work has been a bit difficult this past month and I probably won't get back into the real groove of it all until I can buy myself a new laptop. 'But Zinnia', you may be asking, 'didn't you just get this laptop last year?'. Why yes. Yes I did. But apparently, when you thunder type on it constantly, and your toddler wants to be like mommy and key smashes it occasionally (not by my choice. She's sneaky) the computer is not going to last.

Let me give you an example.

Cerain kys o my ke board oly occasionally work.

Now, what that is supposed to say is "Certain keys on my keyboard only occasionally work." I have to button smash the ones that don't sometimes to get them to register.

It's fun.

Anyway, I didn't want to take away from the Christmas fund this year to buy a computer and next month I have two kiddos birthdays and my anniversary. But in February I should be able to afford a new laptop. I'll be a little slow in writing until then.

Hope everyone is enjoying the countdown to the holidays. I wish you all the best!

[average-vibe]

”Are You Well?” pairing: Tom Simons x Fem!reader summary: you have a killer headache, and your boyfriend is very worried about you TW: cursing, so much fluff, and unedited work (lmk if i missed anything) A/N: this is my first Tommyinnit fic! hope you like it! i definitely didn’t get the title idea from the artful dodger masterlist ****

you quietly groaned in pain as your boyfriend, bless his soul, yelled out on joy, proceeded by a loud laugh.

“WHAT THE FUCK, MAN?” Tom continued, laughing along with the sounds of his keyboard keys getting smashed by his quick fingers. you held your head in your hands, trying to ease the banging pain in you temples. after about 5 more minutes of loud shenanigans going on in his office, you resorted to going in there, hoping he would calm down when he saw you. you slowly made your way to his office, and when you opened the door, his demeanor became a gentle, kinder looking one.

“Oh look! it’s the love of my life!” he said in a calm manner. you had been in some videos and more streams, but you rarely came in unplanned.

“Hey, can i stay in here?” you asked, looking at his monitor, slightly surprised to see how tired and, well, bad you looked.

”if you’d like. i’m doing a mod stream.” he replied, smiling at you, a twinge of worry in his eyes.

you then saw the chat, and as you moved closer, you could see some of the comments.

TommYinniT12: OMG ITS Y/N QUEEENNNNN

fruity-sky: LOVE UUUU

random.user1928: are u ok? how u doin?

barbie*gurl*barbie*world: hope ur doing well :)

You smiled at the ‘fans’ you had, giving a small wave. “Hey guys! how’s the stream going?” you asked.

“Going pretty good, better now, though.” Tommy flirted, smirking at the camera. “Obviously, i make everything better.” you teased, shrugging your shoulders as you sat down in a small stool designated for you. it was titled the “Y/N throne” (named by tubbo). You caught tom slightly glancing at you in a worried type of way as you answered some questions about how life was going. you shrugged it off, supposing it was something on your face, or maybe the dark circles that had gathered underneath your eyes.

Finally, you had finished introducing yourself, you sat back and watched your boyfriend joke around with his fans with the mods, which had made every tame animal hostile, and every hostile animal tame.

“AAAAGH!” Tommy yelled, as a chicken began to attack him. it was funny, but the sudden yell made you flinch in pain, your head in agony. you shut your eyes and tried to distract yourself, but the pain in your forehead was too prominent to be dismissed. your boyfriend looked back at you, as he clearly noticed your sudden change in additude.

“you okay?” he quietly spoke, trying to not draw attention to you, but no matter what, obviously his fans were going to take note of what happened.

username: is she okay?

papi susis: look at her; is she well?

you quickly nodded, smiling for effect, but you knew tom didn’t buy a second of it. but he simply nodded in return and turned back to his monitor, attempting to react to some comments taht chat was making, most of which about you, worried about your well-being.

“Yeah, i’m SO excited to meet up with them.” tom rambled, referring to his plans to meet up with Bill, Aimsey, and Ranboo. “I think y/ns going aswell, aren’t you?” he asked, turning to you.

“yeah, if you’ll let me.” you joked. “i’ll go as long as you let me out of the basement.”

“wHAT?” he reacted, the small yell going straight to your migraine, but you continued in your smirk, not wanting to ruin the stream with your headache.

the rest of the stream was spent with you laughing slightly at tom, who kept making flirtatious remarks towards you, making you blush a deep red and all the fans go crazy. after what seemed like forever, he finally signed off, saying goodbye to his fans and ending the stream.

“What’s the matter?” he said, almost immediately after ending the live. you studied him, looking at his eyes that were drowned in worry for you. his eyebrows that were furrowed together in stress. and his mouth that had hints of a smile at the ends of his mouths.

“Y/N.”

“huh?”

“what’s the matter? you’ve been staring at me for like, 30 seconds straight.” he said.

“oh. sorry.” you said, standing up from your “throne”. “i’m gonna go to bed.” you said, walking to the door until you felt a strong grip on your arm, holding you from advancing any further.

“Y/N. What is the matter?” he asked, the third time now. “Are you well?”

“i’m okay.” you said, playing a small smile.

Tom didn’t but it for a second.

“No your not.” he said, standing up, his frame towering above you. loosened his grip on your arm and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“i just have a headache, Tommy. That’s it, i promise.”

“how bad is it?”

you looked down, trying not to let him see your eyes. “Umm..”

“is it one of you worse ones?” tom asked, with nothing but concern in his eyes.

“yeah. a really bad one. the worst one yet.”you said, in one big string of words.

Tom held you close, giving you a gentle hug. “I suppose my screaming didn’t help much.” he guessed, looking guilty.

you hugged him tighter, sighing. “No, it really didn’t. but it’s part of your job.” you defended him, holding his face in your hands.

“I need to think about you more. i only think about my fans during streams. i never think about you. i’m sorry, love.” Tommy says, guilt covering all of his emotions.

“It’s okay.” you say, smiling.

“Do you wanna go cuddle in bed?” he asks, almost innocently.

“i would love to.” you say. “just let me get my headache medicine.”

“no, let me do it.” he says, jumping infront of you, walking to the closet.

for the rest of the night, he wouldn’t let you do anything, insisting that ‘you need to rest!’ before doing it for you.

when you finally fell asleep, he kissed your head.

“sleep well, love.

***** A/N: that sucked but wtvr.. sorry for taking so long on the stream part lol

hope you liked it

love u

[moedull]

LIKE

A/N: This is part of my AO3 series where my favourite characters represent different times (and ways) to say I love you

this was written waaay back in 2021? This is rewritten ofc, but, quite hastily in my opinion! It may not be the best, but, hey, it's cool

also.... dont be afraid to comment... help artists survive by showing ur love through comments or sharing their fics!!!!! >_o thanks!

AKA. Posted from my ao3 once again!

words: 1273

tags: NOT BETA READ, mild hurt/comfort, gender neutral reader, established relationship!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Enjoy: TSUKISHIMA KEI!

“Oh you’re still going on about that?”

“Yes.” 

Tsukishima sighs, sitting behind you as you smash the letters on your keyboard. You hear the bed creak and suddenly, he’s sitting next to you. He gently grabs your hands and holds them tight. 

“Hey.” He starts casually.

You look him in the eye with a huge frown, and furrowed eyebrows. “What?”

“Come here.”

‘Here’ is the soft bed you wish to lay on with no worries in the world. Of course, with your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei.

“Why?”

“Why not?” 

“I’m busy right now…” You try pushing him away. 

“You don’t look like you’re in the best condition.” He says matter of factly, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand.

“So what if I am? I have to finish my thesis.”

He looks at you, sighs, and rolls his eyes. “I know that but it doesn’t change the fact that I worry about you.”

“I can take care of myself.” You hushed. “But thank you.”

“Are you ever gonna let me help? Or just go along with everything because you have too much pride for your own good?”

“No.” You huff. You suppose it was a habit from when you first met– always reaching for the top, showing everyone who really deserves to be up there– and, you do. You try hard everyday, working and caring for so many different things.

You just seem to be out of luck as it always feels like your efforts are unnoticed. In such situations, perseverance is key– but that kind of mindset may quickly turn sour when they’re left to linger and turn into stubbornness. 

You should probably hate Tsukishima Kei– strong-willed, cool and collected, and of course, smart. You would never have expected to hit it off with him, but he's one of those people who could easily get under your skin and get you to crack.

“Well, I know you can handle yourself, but don’t forget to eat.”

You roll your eyes (no malice is intended, of course). “You don’t need to baby me all the time.”

His eyebrow twitches, and he rolls his eyes in exasperation (no malice is intended here as well). “Whatever. But you need to sleep. Okay?”

“Yeah yeah.” You wave his concerns away, already turning around to resume typing.

Tsukishima huffs, gets up and moves over to your desk. He places his hands on either side of the laptop, leaning forward slightly as he studies the screen. 

“It’s not good to stress yourself out like this.”

“I don’t stress out.” You argue.

“Right, cause you always make sure you’re not stressed out.”

“I am not stressed out.” You insist.

“Fine.”  He relents. “But just remember I care about you. I can’t help it if you act like an idiot sometimes.”

The corners of your lips twitch up. “You’re cute.”

“Shut up.” 

“And sweet.”

“Stop saying that.”

“Don’t you think I should use more than two adjectives when talking about someone I like?” You ask with a smile, tilting your head.

He grins smugly down at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Maybe.”

You chuckle, but it stops right away as you turn back to your work. Tsukishima still hangs around, not entirely convinced of your claims of being fine. He is especially convinced when you simply stare at your blank page, trying to find the right words to make the right sentence to make the right point of the right argument and–

“Okay, so what’s the problem?” He asks, taking a seat next to you. He scrolls up with your mouse, trying to read the rest of your document. 

You see the reflection of his face; His eyebrows knit together, lips pursed as the cursor moves underneath a few words. He lingers on a few sentences for unknown reasons that make your hands sweat and your heart beat faster. Flustered? Hardly, it’s the ache of anxiety. Your problems, right now, are far from school-related. 

“Mm.” Tsukishima hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You have the idea, so that’s good.”

But,

“You’re not being straight to the point about it.” He scrolls back to whatever page you made some stupid mistake on.

When did mistakes matter? I mean, seriously, at which stage of your life, did you begin to wallow over your mistakes? You were only in 3rd grade, scraping your knee on a cement pavement from running and that was one of the worst things that happened to you. 

Now, you read back on all of your essays and tests and feel your heart drop when you see that red ‘X’, the teacher encircling a specific part, or some harsh comments at the side. You want to blame the system, the adults, the economy or whatever God is up there– but, you can’t help it– You look in the mirror, thinking: Fuck. Was this all me?

Someone flicks your forehead, and you let out a wince, rubbing the spot.

“Hey.” Tsukishima says, tilting his head to look at your face. “You were zoning out.”

You glance back at him with an almost confused, somewhat dazed look. Here’s another big question: When did Tsukishima Kei matter? It’s incredible that you looked at someone for 304 days, talked, fell in love and somehow, it’s your life and his. You can’t put it into words right now; the questions that grow inside the empty pit of your stomach, because, right, you haven’t eaten yet, and you can’t tell if it really is a question, or if it’s screaming at you. 

You feel like you’re going to vomit–Fuck, that anxiety was just building up inside of you.

“I..” You pause, swallowing a non-existent lump in your throat. 

 “I didn’t think..” You pause again, taking a deep breath. “I didn’t think you’d like me back.”

He sits straight up, and stares down at you, furrowing his eyebrows with narrowed eyes. “What do you mean?”

You shake your head. “Look, I wasn’t expecting any response from you when I confessed.” 

You pause, feeling your eyes burn slightly from the tears that were building up, “I was just.. someone. You were one of the smartest guys in school—still are—but, out of everyone....” you start to trail off. 

“Out of everyone, why did you choose me?” You continue, forcing yourself to speak slowly, slightly tensing up at the evident sound of your voice breaking halfway.

He doesn’t respond. He slumps his shoulders, seemingly taken aback and bewildered.

“Why does someone like you pick me?” You laugh bitterly. Your heart aches even at the thought of it.

You watch him closely, as if looking for some sort of reaction or sign of how he feels. A flicker in his eyes, anything.

Tsukishima’s face remains blank for several moments before opening his mouth slowly to say, “Because I like you.”  

It takes you a minute to process what he said and you blink owlishly. You’d been prepared to hear something like ‘You’re a dumbass’ or something along the lines.

”But why?” You manage to blurt out, unable to hide a frown.

There’s a long silence as you hold his gaze. You stare at each other, neither willing to break eye contact, not until he leans in and presses his lips against yours.

“Was that answer not enough?” He whispers into your ear, his fingers gently caressing your cheek.

You feel lightheaded, your entire body buzzing and your heartbeat drumming against your ribcage.

You can’t speak, so instead you shake your head.

There's silence as he begins to cradle you in his arms, resting his chin on your head.

“I love you.” He tells you again.

[freakingoutthesquares]

Poptastic Words: Alexis, Portraits: Pulp Interviewed back-stage at the Highbury Garage, 15 May 1993 Catharsis Fanzine, Issue 4 Transcription: Acrylic Afternoons

"I'm Candida. Hello. I play keyboards." "I'm Jarvis. I'm the singer." "I'm Steve. I play bass." "I'm Russell. I play guitar and violin." "Therefore Nick's the drummer." sums up Candida.

And there you have Pulp - the world's greatest pop band. A band who have "been in Smash Hits" and have even had the honour of having one of that magazine's "Single of the Fortnight". Not that Jarvis can see the band ever being as big as, say, Take That or East 17.

"I can't see too many posters going up."

Pulp were formed by Jarvis whilst at school and the current line up has been together for about five years. But why did they all want to be in a band in the first place?

"I think we wanted to frustrate ourselves," says Candida.

"We're complete sado-masochists," backs up Nick.

Is it what you all always wanted to do?

"Yeah," confirms Jarvis. "I, kind of, wanted to do it at school. I used to imagine, when I was in the school's dinner queue, that I wouldn't have to queue up if I was famous. It's not particularly true. That's what I thought it would be like but it's not."

So, after deciding he wanted to be a pop star, Jarvis went to film school. Why?

"That was after we'd been doing the band for a while but I was disillusioned. We'd been messed around by loads of record companies and the final straw was when the bass player became a born again Christian and left the band. It all seemed a big mess. We didn't actually split the band up but I thought I ought to do something else cos it's all I'd been doing since I left school and I thought my brain was drying up. I thought I ought to do something else to keep it alive a bit."

Now it's 1993 and it's going to be a good year for Pulp. Their records are being picked up on - their last single 'Razzmatazz' got Single of the Week in Melody Maker - and it is rumoured that they have signed to Island Records.

"We're with them spiritually..."

"I don't think we've signed or anything," says Jarvis over Nick.

"...we're, kind of, engaged. It's been a long engagement."

"But long engagements are the best," stresses Russell.

Why do you think it's taken so long for Pulp to be appreciated (Pulp has been around in various forms for about fifteen years)?

Steve: "It's our turn."

Jarvis: "We've been waiting in queue for a long time."

Steve: "It's like when you go to the Post Office and you want a stamp but you'll wait for everyone else to go."

Jarvis: "We're very polite y'see so we didn't push in."

Nick: "We wouldn't have that."

Jarvis: "So we waited our turn."

Did it get depressing in the meantime? "No," continues Jarvis. "There's always other things to do. If you choose to sit at home thinking, "Why aren't I famous?", then you would be quite a sad character. You can always ride your bike or something."

Did you think you'd be doing it this long when you first started?

"No. I would've been horrified. I always thought pop music was supposed to be quite instant. You didn't hang around for a decade. To be doing it for so long is very strange."

How did Pulp sound when you started?

"Awful."

"It was all feedback," explains Steve.

"Yeah," recalls Jarvis. "It was a noise. Not on purpose, or anything. It was just ineptitude. I started when I was young and we just couldn't play. We still can't play very well but I don't think that matters."

What does matter then?

"It's not what you can play, it's what you can say."

And what are Pulp saying?

"That's put you on the spot," cries Nick gleefully.

"Well, it's not that we've got something to say as in there's a big message for the world. U2 are trying to shake off that image now but before they were always doing the chest beating and coming up with their big slogans. It's not like that. Hopefully it's an accurate reflection of our lives."

In that case Pulp must lead very strange lives. The opening lines of 'Razzmatazz' were, "The trouble with your brother/he's always sleeping with your mother/and I know that your sister's missed her time again this month".

"I don't think they're seedy," states Jarvis. "They're just true to life. I think they're deadpan and down to earth. I don't think they're strange. Razzmatazz is a bit sad. Babies (the single before Razzmatazz... sample lyric: I wanna take you home/I wanna give you children) is just a thing you get up to when you are fourteen and certain things are still still taboo and you get into situations because of curiosity."

What does your mother think about your lyrics?

"I don't think she's bothered. She's not made any detrimental comments. She thinks the songs should be happier. I'd rather her take no notice actually because once I went round there at Christmas and she insisted on playing the record all the time when my relatives were there. It was embarrassing. Everyone comes up and pats you which isn't very good. Also, if you're on TV or radio at your mothers then it's very embarrassing."

"Shouldn't have your hair like that."

"Smile a bit more."

"Why don't you play some happy ones."

To get to know Pulp a little better we decided to ask each member of the band to describe the others. We allotted them one word per person. Below are the results.

Nick: Candida... petite. For Jarvis I'd say dishevelled. Steve is organised and Russ is er... too tough sometimes.

Candida: Nick's loud. Jarvis is temperamental. Steve is organised and Russell is good at business.

Jarvis: For Nick I would say... high. Candida is fluorescent. Steve is clean. Russell... I'd say feedback.

Steve: Nick is too loud. Candida is calm. Jarvis is unique and that's not a compliment. Ha Ha Ha. Russell is manic.

Russell: Nick is Jean Paul. Candida is toys. For Jarvis I'd say praying mantis and Steve I would say is a cigar.

During this game several compliments and disparaging remarks were handed out and taken with apparent ease and false stroppiness in turn. Pulp complimenting each other makes them happy, but what is the nicest thing an outsider could say about them?

"I don't know. I get embarrassed if people are nice to me," says Jarvis whilst Russell lines up the butts of his cigarettes in size order. "l find it hard to accept people being nice. I always think they' re after something."

"You're paranoid," offers Steve as an explanation. "l don't know why it is. It's like when you eat out at a restaurant, not that I do very often, but when I do I don't like the waiters always coming over and supposedly being nice. (Adopts slimey voice.) "Is everything O.K. for you sir?". I find that makes my flesh crawl. I'd rather they just give it to you and then let you eat and talk to whoever you're with."

"The nicest thing someone could do to you is put a plate of food down and walk away?" asks Russell incredulously.

"I don't mean just slap it down. Put it down, then go away. I don't want them hanging around with the violin in your ear. The niceness is a bit like that."

Do you also hate it when people are horrible to you Jarvis?

"Oh yeah. I like general blandness. Ha Ha Ha. If somebody comes up to you and says "You're great", it's nice but it's also..."

"...a conversation killer," finishes Russell.

"It's a northern thing as well," observes Steve. "In Sheffield no one Would ever go up and say, "I think you're great"."

"That's why," confirms Russell, "it's uncool. It's us that's wrong but..."

"The best compliment we get is if someone says we're alright. It's good to know that other people like you but you'd rather hear it second hand," explains Jarvis.

"The first time someone said it to us we thought we'd misheard them," says Nick.

"Do you know who we are?" adds Russell.

"Yeah," continues Nick. "l thought they'd got the wrong band."

You said earlier that you don't like people being mean to you - does criticism upset you?

"Well" says Jarvis with a pained expression, "if somebody writes something like, "He's a tall, lanky streak of piss with no discernible talent. How has he managed to delude himself for so many years?" you can't just go, "Oh, yeah. Fair enough, everybody's entitled to their own opinion"."

"Truth hurts. Ha Ha Ha." comments Steve.

"It's too bad they were right," agrees Russell rubbing more salt into Jarvis's wounds. "We do like people to like us. We're not just doing this for ourselves. We want people to like it."

"But we don't pander," warns Jarvis.

What do you think about the "Crimplene scene" which is the current press play thing? Does it bother you that you've been lumped into that?

"We started it," boasts Steve jokingly.

"I don't think it exists. It's not healthy," complains Jarvis. "No. Crimplene makes you sweat. We'd rather be the British cotton scene."

"It's true," supports Nick. "Avoid Crimplene at all costs."

"I like seventies bands like Denim. Is that the Crimplene scene?" asks Russell.

From what I've read, it's you, Suede, Saint Etienne etc.

"We used to get compared to Marc Almond and World Of Twist so..."

"If I was going to chose a scene to be associated with," remarks Steve, "it would be that one but it's not like we meet at Oxfam on a Saturday afternoon and fight over classic Crimplene. None of us like it."

"I still don't think it exists," says Jarvis persistently.

If there is a scene then Pulp are the leaders of the pack. They might not be the biggest, but they are the best. In terms of sex, glamour and everything that counts they are the only band you need to know. They leave the rest of their ilk in a trail of dust. The songs are gorgeous uplifting affairs with secret tales of suburban life as lyrics. It is pure genius.

"A lot of sexual perverts like us," offers Russell helpfully. "They write us strange letters. Post grunge and post shoe gazing there is a new sort of person on the streets and they like us. People in stripey tops quite like us."

"French people like us," announces Candida.

Do any of you ever get recognised in the streets?

"Yeah," states Jarvis. "I was saying to Russell the other day, that I've always had people taking notice of me in the streets in Sheffield - usually in a bad way. They called me names and things. It does still happen. In fact I nearly had a fight yesterday 'cos this boy decided to push me. But people have started to recognize me and be a bit more friendly now. It's strange 'cos I'm always getting ready to flinch when they come up and then they say something nice and catch me off guard."

What names did they call you?

"Because I've always worn glasses it just used to be someone famous with glasses. Elvis Costello, Buddy Holly. Just anybody who wore glasses. I used to have a beard for a bit and then I was called Rolf Harris all the time. They weren't very imaginative."

Well, those people were obviously mad. Jarvis is, without a doubt, a sex symbol for the nineties along with all the others in the band. At the gig that took place after this interview Jarvis was practically pulled off the stage by adoring females. O.K. - so we know they are attractive, but how sexy out of ten does each member of the band think he/she is?

"We're all going to say ten aren't we?" asks Candida.

"You might, but I wouldn't," retorts Steve.

"I think it changes during the day," decides Nick. "When you get up in the morning you're probably a minus. The later it gets the better it gets. If it's a good day you might peak at two."

"You just about make a two, Steve," jokes Jarvis.

"Anyone who says above seven has problems," says Steve wisely.

"You'd catch them playing with themselves in front of a mirror when you came in here," suggests Jarvis.

"That means you were about a nine in the van today, then, when we set off," says Steve whilst trying to wind up Jarvis.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't think you were a nine, you thought you were."

"Self-masturbation," adds Nick helpfully.

"That's another thing that other people have to decide upon," Jarvis remarks sensibly.

"Obviously it's nice if people do find you that way."

At this point Nick's brother enters the room and Russell starts loudly announcing that "this one goes up to eleven" if you twist the nipple and put a little shilling in the slot. Everyone has hysterics.

But, don't get me wrong, Pulp take what they do incredibly seriously. They are a deadly serious band. I know this because Nick told me four times. They are funny, the music is not. Pulp are also clever, sexy, glamorous, beautiful, talented, strange, normal, erotic, under-famous, unique, sleazy, stylish and every other compliment ever. If you feel the need to check out the high life or if you just need that extra sparkle - look no further than Pulp. They're the most fun you'll ever have.

You can write to Pulp at P.O. Box 87, Sheffield, S6 2YZ and you can become a Pulp person by sending £3 to the same address.

[krispysnovelideas]

ok so i decided to just finish reading since i had like 100 pages left and didn't want to put the book down BUT I HAVE THOUGHTS

ANDARNA IS A CHAMELEON TYPE?????

HOLYSHIT THE ACTION WAS JUST *incomprehensible keyboard smashing in the distance*

XADEN???????????? WHAT'S HIS FATE-

i was gonna riot if ridoc fuckin died

i fucking knew barlowe was untrustworthy--bro was insane, how do you expect him to recover from that and just be "normal" again after being resurrected if he was already insane pre-death

andarna thinking tairn is old af but he's just the equivalent of a 30something LMAO

cat is less annoying but she's on thin fucking ice

apparently violet is supposed to have a second signet so i wonder what that's gonna be

also what the fuck did the sage want with xaden like what was this tether xaden mentioned having with the sage 🤨

re the venin "cure": maybe letting go of the power somehow or like "giving it back"? if you become venin bc u take in too much power, shouldn't--theoretically--the opposite be the cure?

it took me a solid half hour after finishing the book to figure out what the literal "iron flame" was lol

there was something else i wanted to say about a certain part but i forget what it was

holy shit that was entertaining and i'm so excited for book 3! like we were kinda left on a somewhat closed note, but there's so many questions to be answered and i came out of this book with more questions than i had going in, as i feel is true for most, if not all, of us.

book 3, here we come :)

next book: probably Daughter of the Moon Goddess

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

How Comments Hurt Writers

First of all - thank you SO MUCH to people who leave comments/reblogs/etc. You're amazing, and you make writers' days (including mine).

But we have a problem.

I am fairly new to this fandom (tagging COD, Ghost x reader specifically, but I suppose it's generally good info to have). I was brought in by a friend who recently launched a multi-chapter fic.

Both of us have mental health issues, and unfortunately some very excited folks who mean well are jumping all over my friend's triggers. Since this is an issue generally considered less-than-awesome manners anyway, I thought I'd address it.

Please - PLEASE - do not build your review around how eager you are for an update. Especially if the fic updated less than a week back.

Mentioning you're excited to continue reading is fine, but be very, very careful how you phrase that, and try to include more than that in your comment. Emphasize you are happy to wait, etc. so you don't accidentally come off as demanding.

If you have nothing else to say, leaving hearts, saying you enjoyed it, or performing an artisanal keyboard smash with googly eyes are all perfectly valid and lovely ways to support the author.

Writers turn well-meaning comments like "When's the next update?!" into self-loathing for not writing more, not writing fast enough, "failing" their readers. This leads to spirals, and those get very dangerous very quickly.

I'm not the first to say this, and I won't be the last.

Your comments matter. Your reblogs matter. You have more power than you realize, and I hope this helps you wield it in a way that helps not only writers but YOU.

How do you benefit?

You get more fics. Burnt out writers post less and share fewer fics, because the more active pieces they have, the more pressure they face.

This isn't a lecture. It's an invitation to protect your writers. I LOVE seeing what my friends make, and I've been guilty of leaving these kinds of reviews in the past. I'm speaking from experience on both sides of the issue.

Please keep our writers healthy, happy, and safe.

Much love, and happy reading!

[kstaki]

Wahhh after watching episode 48, felt like had to watch something light a bit. End up watching King-Chan! The episode where they play Fortnite (2 part) with the show country in it. Long post…😅

Although have to say it like mind-blown by the details especially there were a few things even the cast didn’t know.

Sadly only four of them participated, Aoto, Marie (Erica), Yuzuyan (Yuzuki) & So. (I am used to calling them that 😅) Yuzuyan & So were wearing glasses they look so cute wearing them 😆

First video was about N'Kosopa, where they were given the task to climb to the top.

None of had it easy climbing up 😂 So did comment he was more used to keyboard and mouse compare to controller saying he would do better. In the end they did provide him with it.

They took turn to climb up but they spend a lot of time falling 🤣

Yuzuyan’s turn she was first one to finally reach to the next level , they all celebrated the accomplishment thinking the game end & it seem like Yuzuyan had enough because she tried to end the channel 😂 Byebye Chan

Unfortunately there were still many level left to climb & there isn’t a save point 😰 so if you fall you’re starting from back from the start Zero!

Surprising Aoto was most quite while they other were playing while the rest were very noisy especially Yuzuyan 😂 (Part 1 & Part2)

They took a break & explore the other part of N’Kosopa. The detail was amazing even the epic showdown (E39) the bridge was there!

They return back to climbing & in middle Marie was saying like who best (this part not that sure but I think so) So, Marie, Yuzuyan & then Aoto who was in totally disbelief haha he click his tongue(probably annoyed 😅) then he blame he see it & doesn’t get it. (Probably referring to the different mechanism that enable the jump)

Afterward they got Miki-Sensei who was guiding them from the beginning & to show how it done lol but even he was struggling. Then admit he more comfortable keyboard & mouse. Chaos broke 😂 when they heard it since he was supposed to be the expert! Although they keep cheering Sensei on to reach the top which he did 😁 well only part of it there was still tower climb.

So tease Aoto to do the climb but he respond this isn’t the Teppen he seek. (Almost similar to E44) It sound so cool even So compliment him.

So did try the tower climb while in between Aoto was supposed to give his thought on it. I couldn’t really tell what sort of game he say it was like. Though he did say 楽勝でした (It was easy win) Marie immediately turn to stare at him while Yuzuyan just criticize him 😂 (since he was struggling the most ah poor Aoto) So was busy still playing.

Part 2

Shugoddam, they were only inside the castle the throne room. So was using controller and there was a mini game where you shoot target 🎯 that appear in the place. The ceiling of the throne room even had the King Ohger Mural!

Next was Ishabana and it was a like a quest. Marie had the control. Apparently in beginning you can choose Japanese or English, So & Yuzuyan ask Marie to choose English but she refuse saying let her do it in Japanese.

So spoke English for a moment asking do you speak Japanese (Gahh it sound good)

Marie just reply back in Japanese 😂

YET somehow it turn out the written dialogue was in English. Marie blame that she couldn’t see plus mention that she thought Japanese was on default & press the wrong button thus it end up to be English. Therefore she had no choice but to translate for them what the dialogue 🤣 (Poor Marie) she did translate for them roughly although some part she skip they were like what was written?!?! She did apologize for choosing English but they were fine with it. ☺️

Basically the quest is that you wake up in Ishabana & was save so want return back the favour to Queen Himeno. So the quest is find 5 flower the way was to use Pick-axe to smash the rock to find it. Yet somehow after giving the flower you seem to want to do more since she did save your life. That you end up have to find 300 flower. There was another ‘cheat’ way where this traveller got a machine that allow you make flower but in return the traveller wants a MOFFUN! You have to find it and exchange for the machine that allow you complete the quest and then you can access second floor of castle.

Though like N’Kosopa they just explore outside of the castle and the surrounding.

Next was Gokkan

A bit let down didn’t see the Castle it was mostly outside(I mean it was beautiful but I wanted a small glimpse of the castle) where Yuzuyan & So had the controller (it like two player now onward). Sensei was telling them to power up & gacha for weapon because the game in Gokkan was to fight like wave of zombie figure. Although there was a cool weapon where you shoot out sword & it stab to the ground like Rita’s signature move before exploding! Cool oh yeah it was purple 😎

While they play until they lost, it was really fun they wanted do another round but couldn’t due to lack of time.

Next was Toufu that was still under development while they were playing.

So & Aoto had the controllers this time. They were basically just inside the castle & there was a room that made out like kitchen where all cooking is done they had the sink, box, shelves just anything that like huge kitchen. It was connected to the Throne room.

Also there was this game where you can become a Mini-Kuroko. Basically the game is that you have be last person standing. Not sure if two player game or more can join but for this channel was just two of them.

The base is Tatami mat & underneath is lava so you have to survive by just trying not to fall into the lava. The Tatami mat is fragile so it will break after stepping on it, you can dash & jump. Just have to be last Kuroko standing!

Aoto just kept losing 5 times in a row hahaha & he said it was boring because of it 🤣

So reacted to it saying Aoto just suck at the game.

(There was a statue that say who is wining & how may win)

After his fifth lost, So then suggested whoever lose give next person.

Then Marie took over as she tried to trap So but still lost 3 times 😅 that she like ask Yuzuyan to take over 😆

If I am not mistaken (since they do cut out some part) Yuzuyan lost once but second time finally beat the undefeated Champion So! She even say Toufu now mine & cheer hahaha cute

Then Aoto vs Yuzuyan & 😂 Aoto lost (Aoto I feel so bad for you he is really terrible at game lol)

Then it was Marie Vs Yuzuyan &…Marie won. Then So begin to tease Yuzuyan for losing 😆

Afterward they were told to draw faces for Kuroko that they might use for the game.

Apparently found out they do reuse (or unintentionally put among with other notebook) their drawing notebook that they got sidetrack to find some of previous Masato Yano (Racles) stuff he did in one previous King Chan.

So & Yuzuyan drew a few possible picture to use for Kuroko & I am terrible at explaining how look like so I will just post a picture of one main one they drew

Then they also given the task to give a name for the game which they came up with was this…

黒子からの挑戦畳 (Kuroko's challenge tatami)

~Tatami, Sushi,Samurai~

Though they seem to agree that when the game release the bottom part might be removed 😂

Just roughly what can tell from the two episode (I was laughing at them playing also 😆it so amusing) although I really just want to play the game to see the world…I don’t know if I got time. 🥲

[that1emowitch]

Villain - Chapter 4: What the Hell is Wrong With Bruce?

Summary:

Tim and Dick find out about Jason being in Arkham.

TW: Death, Violence, Flashbacks, Blood, and Swearing. lemme know if I missed anything!

Chapter links: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch.6

POV of Tim Drake. Time: about 3 pm, after lunch.

Come on, pick up pick up pick UP!!!! My brain urges as I try to call Dick, careful to use a comm I’m definitey sure Bruce wouldn’t be able to listen in on.

He finally picks up after nearly 15 rings. Good. If I had to hear that ringtone once more I’d smash my phone against the wall.

“Hey, Timbo!” He greets me cheerfully. “What’s up?”

“Where are you right now?” I ask, wasting no time on formalities. 

“Um, Bludhaven, why—”

“Good, you’d get here in about two hours, then, if you maybe skip lunch you’d be here half an hour earlier. Good, do that. And—”

“Hey, hey!” Dick interrupts me worriedly. “Timmy, you okay? What happened? What— Did something go wrong? Did someone attack something important?”

I take a deep breath, unsure how to break this to him. “Dick,” I start, “It’s Jason.”

I swear, Dick’s voice goes up by three octaves. If this situation weren’t so dire, I’d have recorded it to use for blackmail. “Oh my god is he okay? Is he hurt? Is he—”

“He somehow got locked up in Arkham.” There. That wasn’t so hard to say.

The silence is deafening. Then Dick screams, “WHAT? HOW—”

“I don’t know, all I know is, he’s in the cell right in front of the Joker. I can see his tracker on the map in front of me right now, and he got checked in as ‘mentally unstable’ at about 2 AM today.”

“When you were with the Titans and I was in Central,” Dick muses.

 "And… there’s realistically only one person in Gotham who could capture Jason and take him to Arkham.”

Dick curses with the most colourful words I’ve ever heard. “Tim, just— just stay there, okay? And don’t talk to Bruce until we know what actually happened, we don’t want to wrongly accuse anyone of anything. I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

I lean back in my chair and take a long sip of coffee, letting the caffeine energise me. Why would Bruce do this? Jason was supposed to be on our side now… Unless something happened that I don’t know about…

I quickly swipe my fingers across the keyboard on my computer, accessing Cowl footage. I look through the folders, arranged by date, and click on the one from early morning today.

Access denied.  

I stare at the words on my screen, puzzled. Just to check, I try opening footage from a few other days. I can access that. It’s just this one footage that’s encrypted…

Why would he lock the footage from one specific night?  

Something’s up. I need to get my hands on that footage, somehow or the other. I’m about to start writing a code to hack it when suddenly, a whooshing sound behind me draws my attention. 

I turn around to see a redhead— Wally— run into my room with my brother in his arms. Wally gently places Dick on my bed, and Dick thanks him. Wally replies with an “Anytime, sweetheart!”, waves to me, and runs off again. I raise my eyebrows questioningly at Dick.

“What?” He shrugs. “He was in my room already, and offered to help.”

I narrow my eyes. “And what exactly was Wally West doing in your room?”

“I— Wh— It doesn’t matter, okay?” Dick turns away to hide his blush. “That’s not what I’m here for. What’s up with Jay being in Arkham? How the hell did that even happen?”

“I’m not sure,” I take another sip of coffee. “All I know is, something definitely happened between him and B. Something bad enough that he encrypted all the footage of it so we wouldn’t see it.”

Dick’s wearing a pained expression. “But why would he do that? Jay was finally starting to come back to us, and now— Bruce knows perfectly well what being locked up near the Joker will do to him! This— This is madness, Timmy! What the hell is wrong with Bruce?”

I stay silent. I don’t really have much to say about this, Dick’s already spoken my thoughts.

“We need to get him out of there, Tim.” He locks eyes with me.

“Whoa, I just need you to think rationally for a second, okay?” I start, “We don’t even know what happened, and Bruce wouldn’t just do something for no reason! He loves Jason, we need to find out why he did this, we need to—”

“To hell with Bruce!” Dick suddenly yells. “This is our brother we’re talking about, we shouldn’t care what happened, just that being in Arkham isn’t possibly good for him!”

He takes a deep breath before speaking again, now in a softer tone. “I’m sorry for shouting at you. It’s just, you don’t know Bruce as well as I do, you’ve only seen the good sides of him, and I know you want to believe he’ll never do anything wrong, but I’ve seen him be a cruel monster before. I— I want to believe he’s better now, but…”

I look away. Why did I say that? Learn some fucking emotional intelligence, Tim.

“Hey, look, what about this?” Dick lightly grabs my hand. “We do both. I’ll work with some friends to get him out of there, and you work with Babs to decrypt the files and find out what happened, okay?”

I smile. “Yeah, okay.”

I won’t let you down, Jason, I think as I start compiling a file of all the evidence we currently had to send to Oracle. I’ll find out what happened.

[aniron48]

Love Letters - Day 2

Welcome to Day 2 of Love Letters, a 00q Choose Your Own Adventure! If you missed the first day and would like to catch up, you can read Day 1 here. As a reminder, there will be a post around this time (9pmish EST) every night through 2/14.

From this point on, the consequences of how you choose will be more pronounced--some options may pop up again down the road, but some will be foreclosed for the rest of the story! Choose wisely, and thank you so much for joining in! 😁 Day 2 begins below.

After a moment, he typed, “The one with Mr. Darcy and the governess and the wife in the attic?”

The truth was that while he’d never seen the film, he’d read the book, after finding an abandoned copy in the seat pocket on a flight to Tokyo. It might not have been his usual choice of reading material, but once he’d read the summary on the back and seen that the hero was a navy man, he gave it a go, and ended up finishing it in one sitting.

Not that Q needed to know that, of course.

Q responded with a series of keyboard smashes, an incomprehensible set of gifs, and, finally, “I’m sorry, but I cannot have a boyfriend that confuses Persuasion, Pride and Prejudice, and Jane Eyre.”

This was, admittedly, an even better reaction than Bond had hoped to provoke. They had yet to define their relationship, and Bond had assumed it was better to let it slip quietly into monogamous very-nearly-cohabitation without comment, rather than raise it and risk scaring Q away. But now that Q had opened the door….

“Boyfriend, eh?”

“It was autocorrect. Obviously I was trying to type ‘bastard,’ but my fingers slipped.”

“Naturally. Still, would my boyfriend like to propose a time to watch the film?”

“You’re insufferable,” Q sent back. Followed by, “And we’re watching it on Saturday.”

*💕*💕*💕**💕*💕*💕*

Q sighed, turning down the volume as the end credits for Persuasion played on the screen. “Nothing will ever hold a candle to Wentworth’s letter, for me. It’s the pinnacle of romance. ‘You pierce my soul. I am half agony, half hope.’ Imagine getting a letter like that. It would do me in.”

“You must have gotten a slew of them over the years, surely,” Bond said, resting his head on Q’s stomach.

“A slew of what?” Q asked, carding his fingers through Bond’s hair.

“Love letters.”

Q’s hands stilled. “You’re joking.”

“Why would I be joking?”

Q sat up, peering down at James. “Have you met me?”

James rolled over, bemused. “I have. Which is in no small part why I assume you’ve received a lot of love letters.”

“Flatterer,” Q looked away, flustered, and tried to cover it up by hitting Bond with a pillow. “Look, it’s just—it’s not a self-esteem issue, or anything. I’m exceedingly good at any number of things. But I also know that I’m—a bit cerebral, I suppose, and I work too many hours, and I’m very particular about some things—“

“You don’t say.”

“—and I don’t think I really tend to inspire that sort of passion in people.”

Bond opened his mouth to protest, but Q clamped a hand over it. “Let’s not, please. I’m just woolgathering. I’d much rather talk about how it’s a national tragedy that men don’t wear silk stockings like that anymore.”

“You’d have to have the calves for it,” Bond mused.

“Ciarán Hinds does, certainly.”

“Noticed that, did you?”

“Well, let’s put it this way, I’d let him—“

“You’d let him what? Put the wind in your sails? Climb your rigging?” Bond rolled on top of Q, tickling his ribs. “What does he have that I haven’t got?”

“I think the question is, what do you have that he doesn’t?” Q said breathlessly. “Maybe you should remind me.”

“With pleasure,” Bond said. But as he leaned down for a kiss, an idea began to take shape. He’d let Q change the subject, before. He’d learned that it paid to let their harder conversations breathe a bit, to give Q space to sort things out in his wickedly clever, eminently generous mind. But Q deserved the world, and Bond would give him whatever pieces of it were within his power. And he could give him this, at least. He could give him a love letter.

Although it was possible he might need a bit of help.

You chose chaos the last time, mis amores! But your votes unlocked the 'boyfriend' text exchange that opens this part, so it appears I've rewarded your behavior. 😂

What will you do this time? I can't wait to see!

[dreamstation]

HI!! i just read your tags on the hyuck fic i reblogged and i just wanted to say, THANK YOU!!!!

im super glad i made you smile with my basic feedback, and i am truly holding that writing in my heart from now on <333333 i can’t really put to words how it made me felt, but just know it made me teary eyed

as a writer myself, i understand how it feels to be disappointed or discouraged after posting something, but i know it always helps me to think that maybe there was someone who enjoyed reading it, despite if they commented or reblogged (because let’s be honest, ghost readers 😭😭)

nonetheless i will be reading your entire masterlist now and have become a devoted follower hehehe 🤍🤍🤍

this was so heartwarming to read 😭 thank you!! but please don't feel obligated to! the last thing i'd want is for reading to start feeling like a chore when it's meant to be an escape 🥹

i do remember putting my all when i first wrote this back in 2019 and just being so, so proud of it (it was my second longer work after writing just timestamps and drabbles). i suppose my writing and style has taken a different path now, but even knowing so, it's still a little disappointing to me that what i was so proud of isn't really all that to me anymore (although at least it tells me i've grown as a reader/writer). nevertheless, i do still treasure summer daze (my second born 🫠) and so i have to agree as a writer that it's rather discouraging when it isn't appreciated 😔. silent readers for sure are plenty here but i do get that leaving reviews/comments can be daunting (💀 i never really know what to say except scream and keyboard smash in all caps).

but thank you so much!! i'm so happy you enjoyed it to this extent and i'm happy to have made a new mutual on this site 😭💚