#which i therefore had to reread

[marmolita]

one of the things that makes me sad about people using different accounts for different fandoms and having sock accounts and such is that I will never know whether AO3 user trophic, who wrote 19 amazing and amazingly filthy SGA fics between 2011 and 2013, has ever written anything else, and if they have, I will never know if I've read it.

[incesthemes]

Hi! I read your (excellent) meta about s8-10,l and I would love to chat with you about it. But tumblr etiquette is hard, and I agree with your analysis in part and disagree in part, and the places where I disagree are controversial. So I was wondering if you'd prefer to have me respond on reblog (my thoughts are too long for a tag rant), on a separate post with you tagged, or just link to your post but not tag you? Or uh, maybe something else I havent thought of (like perhaps some thoughts are better left unshared lol)?

Anyway, thanks for the interesting meta!

ohh hi, thank you for reading all that, i know it’s a long one :) i can’t say i really mind what you choose to do with it; honestly i’m so curious about your thoughts i’d be happiest talking to you directly about them through like dms or something (yknow for the gratification of conversation haha). but yeah i don’t care either way, feel free to do as you like

[navree]

there's something to bruce in the beginning of a death in the family saying that jason has started going into fights like 'someone looking to die' because he hasn't fully processed his grief over the deaths of catherine and willis, and then bruce's canonical suicidal tendency after jason is murdered and how he was throwing himself into being batman with no regard for his physical safety to the point where alfred was going to quit and tim decided to get involved because he was convinced bruce was trying to kill himself because of how heavily he was grieving jason. like, there's Something there.

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

UNCERTAINTY

Chishiya x Pregnant!Reader

Requested: Where Y/N struggles to tell Chishiya about her pregnancy, fearing his reaction since he doesn’t want kids.

Y/N would never have thought that after her experience in Borderlands anything could make her feel that adrenaline again. The accelerated heartbeat and the breath stuck in her throat. She was a responsible adult, at least that's how she considered herself, and she couldn't understand how that could have happened. It wasn't that she was naive; she knew the effectiveness rates and the warnings on the birth control pill boxes: "No contraceptive method is 100% effective." She saw the letters of the message dance, as if mocking her while she read and reread the same line, holding the pregnancy test in her other hand: Positive. She felt her heart drop into her stomach when she thought of him, Chishiya. How was she supposed to tell him?

The next four days after the big discovery, Y/N behaved like a zombie. It felt as if she was living in a parallel reality: she would get out of bed, make breakfast, and go to university. She walked the same streets and retraced her steps to go back home. The shared apartment was always empty when she arrived; her boyfriend had a complicated schedule as a resident at the hospital, and she didn’t mind going to sleep in a cold and empty bed where she would let the tears she had held back during the day flow until she fell asleep. Then she would wake up, the other half of the bed undone, the only proof that her boyfriend had spent the night at home. Then she would have breakfast and go to university. That was until the nausea started. The reality she had been floating through for the past days, behaving like an autonomous being, came crashing down. That fifth day, she skipped class, and then the weekend arrived.

Chishiya had Saturdays and Sundays off, which meant he would be home for those two days. Y/N, therefore, had to make sure she spent as much time outside as possible. She wasn’t ready to face that situation, which was weighing more heavily day by day. It wasn’t difficult. She made sure to leave before he even got out of bed, and when he asked where she was going, she babbled a string of incoherent words, avoiding eye contact as she left through the door, slamming it behind her. She walked through the park until she felt her feet begin to ache, then sat on a bench. The sun’s rays caressed her cold face, and she closed her eyes, trying to clear her mind and absorb the energy she needed to return home. The first thing she noticed when she entered the apartment was the smell of raw fish, which hit her, tensing the muscles in her body and leaving her frozen in the doorway.

“I ordered sushi,” the man said as he opened a plastic container and placed it next to two others on the dining table.

Y/N felt herself pale when she remembered that article that had popped up on her phone after a brief search she did about pregnancy: pregnant women shouldn’t eat raw fish. With quick movements, she took off her coat and shoes and walked past the man without looking at him, mumbling something about not being hungry. Then she entered the bedroom and shut the door, letting herself collapse onto the bed. Instinctively, she placed a hand on her stomach and closed her eyes. She knew very well she was behaving foolishly and childishly, that she should face the situation like the adult she was and get this weight off her chest. But she was scared, terrified of how Chishiya might react… They had never discussed having children, but she knew his stance on the matter. Having children was an idea Chishiya had dismissed from a young age, focusing on his professional success. In fact, she had been surprised when he told her he chose pediatric surgery at the hospital, and when she asked him about it, he just shrugged and spoke about the lack of emotional attachment. He was cold and rational, just as he was, but she couldn’t help but feel her skin crawl hearing him talk so analytically and pragmatically about the life or death of his patients. So it was easy for her to dismiss the idea of a future pregnancy as well; it wasn’t her dream either, and as a busy university student, it was easy for her to let go of the idea that had, for a brief moment, taken some vague shape in her mind.

She took a few deep breaths and eventually let herself fall asleep.

On the other side of the door, Chishiya ate the sushi with a carefree attitude to the untrained eye. However, anyone who observed him more closely would see the man tense in his place, his head almost steaming as he thought and reviewed every situation in the last few months that could give him a clue as to what was going on with his girlfriend. Chishiya had noticed something was wrong from the very first day. He didn’t know exactly what the problem was, as there didn’t seem to be anything out of the ordinary, but for some reason, he couldn’t silence the voice in the back of his mind that warned him that something was out of place. Maybe it was seeing his girlfriend’s breakfast cup on the table instead of finding it in the sink as usual, maybe it was finding her in bed, deeply asleep, her back turned to him, or maybe it was how she had spent the entire week avoiding looking him in the eyes. That night, Chishiya ate sushi alone, with his thoughts.

Days passed slowly, too slowly for him. He was an analytical person, and not knowing what was happening around him frustrated him immensely. Chishiya leaned back in the break room chair, holding a small, steaming coffee in his hands. He looked at the phone he had taken from his bag, now resting on his thigh, while trying to sort his thoughts. He licked his lips and, biting the inside of his cheek, set the coffee aside: "I’ll be back soon tonight. I’ll bring Chinese food." Sent. He sighed once more. He hoped to resolve the matter that very night.

By the time his shift ended, he still hadn’t received a reply, which made him huff in annoyance. He packed up his things and took a moment to fold his white coat carefully while studying and analyzing what his next steps should be.

When he arrived home, carrying a bag full of food, he was surprised to see the woman lying on the couch in her pajamas.

“You didn’t go to class today either?” His voice sounded harsher and more accusatory than he expected. She didn’t take her eyes off the television.

Chishiya sighed as he took the food from the bag and served it on plates. The room quickly filled with the unmistakable aroma of sesame oil and spices, and if it weren’t for his constant state of alertness, he might have missed how Y/N rushed out of the couch, running to the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind her. The man stayed silent and still while holding the container of noodles in his hand. He didn’t need to sharpen his hearing to hear her vomiting. In one calculated move, he gently placed the food down and tiptoed to the bathroom door. He knocked once. Again. No answer, only gasps and weak groans, followed by dry heaves.

“Y/N…” Chishiya called again.

Then the sound of crying came through the door. The man felt his heart twist, it had never felt so heavy.

“Y/N, open up,” he said in an authoritative voice.

He heard the water running, and after a few seconds, the door unlocked. The girl stepped out, pale as ash, her eyes swollen from crying. She passed by him without acknowledging his presence and walked tiredly to the bedroom. Chishiya followed her in silence.

“You have to tell me what’s going on,” he pressed once more as he sat on the edge of the bed, and she settled in, giving him her back. A pitiful moan escaped her lips, and Chishiya feared she might start crying again.

“Talk to me…” he whispered, watching her back.

The movement was subtle and quick, so much so that no one else would have noticed, but Chishiya, being the observer that he was, clearly saw how the girl placed a hand on her lower stomach only to quickly pull it away as if it had burned her. The last piece of the puzzle he needed to complete.

Chishiya sighed and carefully lay down on the bed. He pressed his back against her chest and gently placed a hand on her hips. The girl’s breathing became erratic, and he felt her tremble in his arms.

“When?” he asked, wrapping his arm around her waist and resting his elbow on the pillow to keep his head elevated and look down at her.

She never really needed words to communicate with Chishiya. Once more, fresh tears slipped down her cheek, her gaze fixed on the wall in front of her, avoiding meeting his eyes.

“A week, right?” He tried to push her, pulling her a little tighter against him.

Y/N had no choice but to turn around. With a deep sigh, trying to wipe away the tears on her cheeks, she turned to face her boyfriend. His relaxed and stoic expression surprised her; that was definitely not the reaction she had expected. They stayed silent for a few moments.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally spoke, trying not to sound accusatory. Chishiya really wanted to know the answer to that question.

“You don’t want kids,” was all she said, her gaze shifting to the buttons on his shirt.

“I never wanted them,” he replied softly after a pause, reflecting to himself. He stayed silent for a few more seconds. “But if I did want them…” he paused, “…I’d want them with you.”

The girl looked up, surprise and disbelief painting her face. Chishiya gave a mocking smile, and with one hand, he smoothed her messy hair, muttering about how stubborn and incredulous she was.

“Did you plan to tell me when the baby was born?” he teased, earning a soft laugh from her.

“I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t know how,” she responded, trying to free herself from his playful hand, which was now messing with her hair. “So… is all of this okay with you?” she asked when he finally moved his hand, gently resting it on her hip.

There was no response for a few seconds, which made the girl wonder if she had really asked the question out loud.

“If it’s okay with you, then we’ll be okay,” he finally replied, never breaking eye contact.

One single tear, this time of relief, slid down her cheek. Chishiya sighed as he wiped it away with his thumb and spoke.

“I think I’m going to have to throw away the Chinese food.”

Y/N laughed once more.

“You’d better, just thinking about its smell makes me want to throw up.”

The man smiled as the girl hid in his chest.

“We’ll have to order something else, you’re not going to skip dinner,” he said as he stroked her hair.

That night, they ordered pizza, with lots of melted cheese, as Y/N requested. When they settled on the couch, together for the first time in a long while, Y/N felt the world begin to spin again. And when she woke up in her bed the next morning, the man was still by her side, eyes closed, tracing carefree patterns on her stomach with his fingertips.

If she had known he was going to react like this, she would have told him much earlier.

© 2025 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

[ddragonqueenn]

To Take Care of You

Word count: 1,280

Summary: People fade from his life as fast as crops when out of season, when confronted with the fragile mortality of those he knows now, Aventurine panics. (Or, you pass out in front of him and get nursed back to health. Badly, but helped all the same.)

Tags: Mostly fluff, but it's got a sad air to it, Aventurine carries the misery with him always, the tragedy is his appeal, reader is like an irate cat who doesn't want to be held, Aventurine is trying to be silly about how much he wants to hold reader, you're not sly bitch we know you're down bad

Notes: my beta reader said it was a fun and light read, but still goes into the emotional details that I love about him. So. Have fun

Would you consider yourself a sickly person? Not by any means, no… Sure, there's an ache when you first awake, and oftentimes your joints disagree with exertion- disagree loudly. With pain. But overall, you don't suffer from anything but being lazy, truly. The tired fog is because you yearn for bed (not from a breakfast skipped days in a row. And a lunch skipped… some days you pass on dinner, too. Definitely not), sympathy should seldom be given to those who refuse to better themselves.

Aventurine chatters as you pick at your meal, paid for by the chirping peacock across. He invited you out for a bite to eat, saying he got a bonus at work and wants to spoil his dearest friend.

…You feel just a little faint, but it's brushed off easy with a bite, “...Really? Pearl voted to keep you?” You comment; something about a trial by the other Stonehearts that Aventurine had to go through after his work trip.

“Yeah- I was shocked too!” He nods, shifting up his collar. The conversation continues, Aventurine's work stories make interesting topics- though, sometimes he must be lying, an Emanator of Nihility? THEY don't gaze at anyone…

Your legs feel strangely weak as you stand, a sudden daze blurring up your vision as the table and chair become convenient supports for your stumbling body- Aventurine guides you back to the chair, hand resting on your shoulder, “Hey- hey, friend, don't stand if you can't. How about this-” the concern fades to an salesman-like voice, though his worry remains an undertone, “I could carry you back to my car! Bridal style, nice and romantic!” He teases.

You shake your head- and quickly regret the decision. Strange, dizziness like this shouldn't last too long, and you even ate something today! But, you should be in good health, therefore, you push his hand away and force yourself to stand, “I can walk-”

A statement which is quickly proven false as you eat dirt. Or… concrete. Wood? It's hard to tell what you're now laying against, but it's certainly something more solid than how you feel. Or, how you would feel, if your consciousness didn't slip as fast as your feet.

Aventurine stares down at your limp (dead?) body, frozen with a stupid smile before he crouches down, “...Friend?” He asks, mumbling a quiet apology as he presses two fingers to your pulse, the tension leaving his shoulders as he feels a consistent and steady flow of blood just under. He sighs, standing up and tapping his foot, “Oh… what to do with you, dearest troublemaker…?”

Opting to pick you up, as he suggested earlier, Aventurine leans down and scoops you into his arms, carrying you out to his car.

He stands over your bed. Sits down. Stands. Paces. Stands. He can't hold still, worry makes him sick, but he's worried over you being sick. You're hot to the touch; Aventurine replaces the towel he's set over your forehead (ignoring the fact that he did so only 3 minutes ago, his hands need to do something), wiping off his hands before he checks his phone, rereading Ratio's advice.

His eyes scan over the words from the doctor, lowering his phone to look between the text and your limp, ill body. Aventurine grits his teeth- you've been ill, but you haven't been eating. You passed out from the lack of food, a simple cold like yours won't make a person faint, but both are mixing together to make your condition much worse.

“...Skipping meals,” the hypocrite mutters to himself, “What were you thinking…” He shakes his head, standing up to go cook something.

You wake up to the smell of… soup. Soup, an utter mountain of blankets, and the walls of your room. It's a struggle to sit up, and the second you do Aventurine practically pushes you down, “No no no- stay down, it's not good for you,” he chides, “You know what is ideal for you? Liquids, salt, and actually eating a proper meal.”

You stare at him for a minute, “...How am I supposed to eat while lying down?”

…Aventurine blinks. He reaches over to tug down the blankets with a huff, “Touché. But after you finish, lie right back down- and don't forget to drink water, and stay under all of those blankets. I'm going to leave and buy some medicine for your cold.”

You swallow a spoonful of soup, chewing on a softened potato, “...I'm not dying,” you deadpan.

“You don't know that-” He toys with his gloves, tugging them down over his hands, “A common cold is much more deadly than anyone assumes. Finish that, your body needs it.”

You resent, not quite in a fighting mood. Picking through the soup, it seems to be some pre-packaged beef broth with a mix of potatoes, carrots, chicken. No noodles, though. Granted, the only kind of noodle in the house is spaghetti. You take another spoonful as Aventurine closes the door behind him.

You could've sworn you saw his hand shake for a moment.

Aventurine drops a bag near comically filled with medicines. He hands you most of the strange remedies, even child’s cough syrup and regular cough syrup- which you try to push off, before hacking up some of your own phlegm.

Sorting through his medicine, you end up taking a painkiller, the aforementioned cough syrup, and he manages to talk you into an antihistamine. Aventurine smiles, leaning back and cleaning his hands like he just finished with hard labor, “So, feeling better?”

“I just took them.” You lean over to grab your water bottle, taking another sip. Aventurine practically deflates, crossing his arms, before leaning forward to fuss with the way the blankets sit over your lap.

He brushes a gloved hand down your hair, smoothing it down, “You can't fault me for wanting my dearest friend to recover fast, can you? You wound my poor, aching heart.” He closes his eyes, clutching his own chest as though his heart were truly damaged by words alone.

“I don't need you to take care of me,” Your hands tense over the metal, head turning to the side, away from his hand, “I'll recover on my own. I don't need someone to dote on me.”

Aventurine slides his hand down to the opposite shoulder, pushing you back down to the bed. He leans down, pressing his face against your neck, down to your collar, “But isn't it nice? I bought out a whole pharmacy for you- well, not quite… But still, I'm treating you like royalty!”

Your hands push against his shoulders, “I don't want pampering, I don't want a pile of medicine I'll never use, I don't want to be treated like a hapless maiden in a tower!”

To your surprise, your pushing gets Aventurine to lift up. His expression is something you've never seen- on him that is- upset and conflicted. He blinks, stutters, stares, deciding to lean down once again, this time pressing his face to your stomach. Your strength fails you as you can barely push him off, his hands squeeze you before suddenly moving to a hug instead.

“...Just let me take care of you,” Aventurine pleads. It's weak, his voice is pathetic and small, you can feel his left hand shake as he grasps you like you'll fade into dust otherwise, “Please.”

He reaches up, interlocking fingers and- you don't have the heart to decline him further. You lightly squeeze his hand, “...Fine.”

You've recovered in due time, though… You stare at the very entertaining message from the doctor, containing an image of a poor, sickly Aventurine and text informing you that he had passed out.

[azes-ocean]

Illusion in shattered glass 

An: I promise I’m working on reqs but this was already in my drafts so 💙 I need more Mr. Reca content so I decided to make some! He’s a character with alot of potential 🫶🏼

A dream is just a nightmare you do not want to wake up from.

Inspiration: I can’t find the post anymore but there was a post about someone talking about Mr. Reca erasing his darling’s memories every time he confesses that to try to achieve perfection, if you find it plz tell me and I can add the link 💙 

An: I didn’t reread or review it so it might suck, but I did add effort. First few chapter are skip-able ish if your impatient. 

Summary: A picture perfect love story directed by Penacony’s greatest director.

Except it isn’t perfect.

You don’t remember any bit of this so-called ‘story’.

Because you-

—CUT!—

TAKE ONE 

“I love you, y/n.”

     “!?-Mr. Reca-I-do too…”

    Directors notes: Disapproved! Adding a title in the acceptance just makes there seem to be a distance or unfamiliarity!

TAKE TWO

“Ah. Y/n. I do adore you.”

         “-Reca…? In a platonic or a romantical way…?”

Director’s notes: Disapproved! The way in which y/n still must ask the intent of those words making them seem dense whilst they have much more intelligence then most actors.

TAKE THREE

“Y/n. Will you marry me?”

       “Gasp. I-ofcourse, Reca…!”

Directors notes: Mhmm…getting better! But it should be perfect! Therefore disapproved!

TAKE FOUR

Disapproved!

TAKE FIVE

Disapproved!

TAKE SIX

Disapproved!

TAKE SEVEN

——

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED AND EIGHTY EIGHT

————1—————

Mr. Reca slammed his fist on the table as he re-watched the records for the nth time. “Ugh. Disapproved…disapproved…Y/n deserves only perfection, not this dogwash!” He cried, cupping his face between his hands in frustration, mumbling under his breath. “No…no…no….” He murmured, why was this so hard? He was the greatest director in the world! Why couldn’t he properly direct his own love story,..?

Yes, yes, he had tried all the cliché proposals and confessions, flowers, letters, even using a cat to carry on his letter. So what was missing in his grand vision of this ‘perfect confession’!?

———2———

{{This chapter is to give depth to the reader and extra interactions. Skip it you want though somethings may be a bit confusing 💕}}

“What I think of Mr. Reca…?” You echoed, tilting your head in confusion. This was…not what you had expected your friends to ask you during your truth or dare game. “Yeah! I heard you rejected him before!” They gasped excitedly, one of them bumping your shoulder and giggling, covering their mouth. “No. I never did that. He’s just my boss. Those are just rumors.” You clarify, shaking you head with a shy smile. You’d never reject him. Well, you’d never reject him if he asked! But that was just most likely your brain too full of those telenova romance movies you binge watched over the weekend. You looked down to your hands and shook your head lightly, trying to wipe those thoughts from your brain. “Anytyywwwaaayy…. y/n!” Your friend called, pointing at you, already seemingly forgetting their previous question, “You didn’t answer the last question, so you better answer this one!” They chirped in their usual bubbly manner, happily shaking your shoulder like a needy child. Oh no. They had a mischevious glimmer in their eyes. “Tell the truth…why do you only hang out with us in the dreamscape!?” They demanded, huffing while crossing their arms dramatically. Your pulse unknowingly quickened, but your expression was still positive. “I just am too busy outside of the dreamscape. Nothing secretive. Now….F/N!” You smile and point at your other friend in the same matter as the latter, grinning, “Truth or dare?”

———3———

Mr. Reca sat on his desk, Assistant Director across his lap as he went through script after script after proposal after proposal. How boring. It would be a hundred times more interesting to be spending these wasted hours with you. But oh well. Duty called, much to his chagrin. What an artistic block. Almost all of the scripts these days lacked individuality and creativity.

All but lacking stories with a totally predictable ending, boring characters and poorly suggested visuals. The director eventually ran his patience through, crumpling the paper in his hands and throwing it across the room in absolute irritation.

“Mr. Reca…? Are you alright?” You called, knocking on the door after you had heard his exasperated grunts. “Oh, y/n! Please, please, come in if you wish! of course I am alright!” He called, his mood already being lifted by your prescence and concern. As soon as you opened the door he ushered you in and had you seated on the couch in the far corner of the messy room in a matter of seconds. You glanced across at him akwardly, only given a few moments to settle where you sat before Mr. Reca began talking endlessly about the films he was working on, the potential-less stories and manuscripts he was forced to read and a lot of his day. In truth, most of it went over your head, merely keeping up your part of the conversation with the bare minimum occasionally nodding and throwing out “Mhmm”’s “Er-yes…” and “Totally.”

———4———

“Y/n. How do you feel today?” Mr. Reca smiled, drapping his jacket across your shoulders. Even though the weather in the dreamscape was hardly cold, today felt a bit different. “A bit…cold…” You offer, snuggling into his warm jacket and hunching slightly. You looked up to see Mr. Reca with a sad smile, which surprised you. “Is…something wrong?” You asked, looking at him with a concerned look. Mr. Reca never usually showed sadness, but now his expression also held something you never thought was possible for him.

He looked…in grief?

Before you could open your mouth to ask him again, Mr. Reca looked you straight in the eye, his hands clasping together nervously, “Y/n…I love you.”

Your brain could hardly comprehend that. You stared at him for a while, wide eyed and your mouth half open when you finally remembered to swallow. You looked down and turned to him with a joyful smile, “I do too, Reca.” Mr. Reca returned your smile, though it still seemed like he was thinking of something else. You put a hand carefully on his shoulder and hesitantly kissed his forehead. “Is there…something wrong?” 

You were met with some silence, which seemed incredibly heavy, not something you would expect the atmosphere of a confession to be like. You knew what was wrong. You did. 

But you didn’t remember. 

And you can’t remember why.

“Wrong? No. We are actually following the ‘right’” Mr. Reca finally replied, shaking his head whilst forcing a smile. He pulled you into an unexpected embrace, burying his head into the crook of your neck as his shoulders seemed to sag. “And in the will of fate we can never be together.” 

You stared at him, though you weren’t confused. Yes, because this happened before.

Eight hundred and eighty eight times, to be exact.

This was what the aeons had written in both your destinies.

“Yes…yes…”

“Because you never existed in the first place.”

———5———

Mr. Reca was now hugging his empty jacket, devoid of the warmth it used to hold. 

And he cried.

It had never gotten easier to accept every time that you were a mere memory zone meme.

A fragment of his consciousness and the embodiment of his wish.

Salty tears fell one after the other in a bitter waterfall as Mr. Reca bit his lip, trying to regain his composure as his breath hitched and more tears spilled.

It was an ironic, almost funny thing

The missing piece in his ‘perfect confession’ had always been you.

———

TAKE EIGHT HUNDRED EIGHTY NINE

———

[diminuel]

Crocodad analysis~

I've finished my reread of Impel Down and Marineford and spent most of today typing up this Crocodile analysis applying Crocodad theory ;3

Under the cut I went through Iva's threats, what info we have on when they met and what Iva might have done for him, then I go on to track Crocodile across the battlefield of Marineford. It's just text, no images, but it does have the chapters mentioned so you can go check it out.

I tried to structure these 3000 words a bit but don’t expect a clean essay.

Also, there is nothing new under the sun, I'm sure all of his has been said before by Crocodad scholars, I'm just sorting through it for myself.

(Disclaimer: I read an English scanlation so there’s a chance that there is a mistranslation or missing nuance.)

Iva’s powers

I'm generally someone who likes to work within the parameters provided by canon. But in terms of Iva's power I have been letting fandom (which displays an interest in a more real world depiction of transitioning) guide me more than canon. But Iva’s powers are not a reflection of the real world (other than maybe wishes that it could be so easy), neither do they even try to be.

Iva says that they can rework a person from the "inside out" (chapter 538) and there doesn't seem to be much of a limit to what they can do to someone’s body, apart from the cost of the healing powers.

If we go with the idea that Iva used their powers on Crocodile, it's likely that it would have been an instant effect. Therefore, the potential switch from female to male would have been complete and it would have been a one time application of Iva’s powers. Since we know what Crocodile looked like as a child, we know that they did not completely change his appearance.

The blackmail

When Luffy protests the suggestion that they free Crocodile, Iva says that they knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540) and that they are aware of one of Crocodile’s weaknesses which they will use against him/ reveal if he betrays them. Let’s first look at this secret weakness.

Since I have seen it mentioned before, I checked out the vivre card information that has been provided by thelibraryofohara (https://thelibraryofohara.com/2019/01/12/vivre-card-databook-vol-5-all-the-new-information/) in the January 2019 card releases. I quote:

“[Crocodile]’s got a “weakness” when it comes to his past that he can’t oppose. He definitely owes something that Ivankov gave him.”

I don’t know if the word choice is a matter of translation but it is rather ambiguous. That weakness is in quotation implies that it is most likely not an actual physical weakness like his weakness to water. Instead, it might be comparable to how Dragon calls Luffy his weakness. Additionally, what does “oppose” mean in the context of a weakness? Does it mean that if Iva revealed it, he would have no chance to refute it. Does it mean that the weakness is of such a nature that Crocodile would do what he can to avoid Iva from saying it? Maybe both? Considering the context the threat was uttered in, this would mean that he will not betray Iva and Luffy’s interests. (Which he doesn’t. When he goes off to attack WB and Luffy stops him, he calmly states that they had an arrangement (chapter 557). While Luffy forbids him from touching WB, Iva doesn’t threaten him into obedience, so Crocodile does pursue his attack on WB once Luffy is gone.)

Continuing with the vivre card quote, there’s also the fact that Crocodile owes something that Iva gave him – which can either mean that Iva gave him something that he’ll have to give back or that Crocodile has something that he only has thanks to Iva. I assume it’s the latter. What could Iva possibly have to give to Crocodile more than 20 years ago that Crocodile doesn’t want to be known (and can expect not to be known unless Iva shares it)? And, maybe more importantly, is it something that Iva can take back?

I am going to say yes, a reveal of the secret might as well come with Iva taking back what he has given Crocodile. Considering that Crocodile in prison has pretty much nothing but his hook, we can assume that what Iva gave this young pirate just starting out, was something to do with their powers. A change to his body in one way or another which of course means that Iva can undo it, revealing things about Crocodile that he doesn’t want to be known.

Considering what we’ve seen Iva’s power do, it does not take a big stretch of the imagination to wonder if he might have been a girl in the past. There’s of course the option that Crocodile has always been a boy, aware of his transness from the beginning. But even if that wasn’t the case, there are other reasons to want to change. The seas of One Piece are tricky to navigate and while there are successful female pirates, we have also been shown certain limitations and prejudices. How was it nearly 30 years ago, when Crocodile was just starting out? When there were pirates such as WB who would not have women on his crew? What did other men’s limited faith in a girl’s capabilities do to a teenager who wanted to chase her dreams? But that’s another layer of speculation. Let’s just assume that Iva gave Crocodile the body he now has.

Timeline

The complete female to male switch makes sense with Iva’s skills as I’ve mentioned above, but the timing is arguably tricky for Crocodad purposes. To repeat: Iva knew Crocodile “a little (…) back when you could still call him a rookie” (chapter 540). It’s unclear to me whether Iva’s comment that they know Crocodile “a little” is meant to be taken as an understatement and they do know each other well or if we should take it at face value. But even the offered time “when you could still call him a rookie” is very vague.

If they only knew each other when Crocodile was a rookie, then Iva would most likely have used their powers on Crocodile back then, turning him before he had properly ended up on the marine’s radar and before he could have had Luffy. What exactly counts as Crocodile’s rookie years isn’t particularly clear. At this point in the manga we do not know anything about Crocodile – his age, how long he’s been a Warlord, when he used to be a rookie, etc. However, we do know now that he became a Warlord in his 20s and challenged Whitebeard and lost to him shortly after (SBS, Volume 78). So his rookie years must refer to the time before that where “similar to Luffy (…) Crocodile's name spread across the seas with incredible momentum.” (SBS, Volume 78) It’s possible that at that time, due to the vastness of the ocean and the slower spread of news, people in general did not know what he looked like (even 30 years on it took a while for all the Strawhat crewmembers to get recognizable bounty posters). Due to that it’s possible that the meeting with Iva could have taken place during the time that he was gaining fame, but before he really got on he marine’s radar enough to make him a Warlord in his early 20s.

Interestingly (for me), around the same time as Crocodile’s was starting out, Iva and Dragon gained notoriety with their Freedom Fighter group (according to the Wiki’s timeline, it became the Revolutionary Army after the Ohara Incident, when Crocodile was 24), so it is likely that when Iva and Crocodile knew each other, Crocodile also met Dragon. (He might even have been part of the Freedom Fighters, but I think if his name was spread across the sea in connection to the Freedom Fighters, a link between Crocodile, Iva and Dragon would have been mentioned or taken into consideration by Sengoku. Sengoku did know of the history between Crocodile and WB and thought it would work in their favor. If he knew about a potential connection between Crocodile and Luffy – via Iva and Dragon – he would have been more wary I assume.)

As an aside, how did they even meet? Did Crocodile hear about Iva’s powers and seek them out? Was their meeting purely by chance and Crocodile seized the moment?

Long story short, if Iva only knew Crocodile while he was still a rookie and used their powers on him then, it would have been years before Luffy was conceived.

However! One could argue that Iva did not have the same control over their powers 20 years ago as they do now, so that the change was mostly external, affecting how Crocodile presented without changing him “inside out.” Which would still have meant that he could get pregnant if Dragon and Crocodile continued seeing each other (or at least saw each other one more time, 19 years ago.)

Now, since Crocodile at Marineford is somewhat of a part 2 of the Crocodile theories, I kept my Crocodad goggles on.

A look of Crocodile’s movement across the battlefield

One of the main arguments for Crocodad are his actions on the battlefield. Judged by the reactions of the other characters, all of Crocodile’s actions on the battle field of Marineford apart from his attack on WB are surprising.

The reason we are given by Crocodile for joining the prison break is that he wants to take Whitebeard’s head. (Crocodile could have escaped from the holding prison, but chose to go to Impel Down instead. However, Iva claims in chapter 538 that Crocodile isn’t too happy about ending up in level six.)

We know from the above mentioned SBS that Crocodile challenged WB shortly after he received his Warlord title. During this battle Crocodile was “completely and utterly crushed by him.” Whether that defeat is the main motivation to challenge him is unclear.

Just like he announced, the first thing that Crocodile does after posing for a group shot, is to go straight for Whitebeard’s head.

So far so predictable.

What are often seen as hints for Crocodad is a series of events that go like this: Dragon is revealed to be Luffy’s father (chapter 558). Everybody and their pet clown gets to have a reaction shot to that, but Crocodile does not. Crocodile is one of the first after Luffy to charge into the plaza after they’ve got the siege walls up and stops Ace’s execution (chapter 566.) He orders Daz to protect Luffy and one Daz is down he himself stops Mihawk from attacking Luffy (chapter 570). After Ace’s death he steps in between Akainu and Jinbei, making Luffy’s escape possible (chapter 578). He eventually joins a line of Whitebeard pirates to protect Luffy.

Now, Crocodile’s change of plans doesn’t present as an instant switch the moment Sengoku announces who Luffy’s father is. While he might have had an off-screen “oh shit, that’s my baby” reaction, it didn’t immediately make him drop everything to protect him.

I do of course believe that Luffy IS his baby because I find joy in that, but I generally see Crocodile as a pragmatic character. On one hand there is Luffy, a reckless but resilient kid that shares his blood (that he spilled and Luffy used against him) that is charging across a battlefield with a group of people protecting him. On the other hand here is Whitebeard right in front of him and other than the baby that has slipped out of his fingers, he held on to that grudge for 20 years.

Tracking Crocodile across the battlefield leaves plenty of gaps, but it still offers insights into why he changes direction. I’m presenting it here and then we can think if this hurts or helps the Crocodad agenda.

Tracking Crocodile

As mentioned the first thing we see him do on the battle field is to go for Whitebeard who is on the ship next to them. Luffy stops him and then he is approached by Whitebeard pirates, their weapons drawn. Luffy then leaves and takes the point of view away with him. When we see Crocodile again, two chapters after the reveal that Luffy is Dragon’s son, he is on the ice in front of Whitebeard’s ship. He must have been pushed back or retreated to join up with Daz, as they are fighting off masses of WB pirates, trying to get closer to the man himself. After he sends a lot of them flying with a sandstorm he is stopped by Yozu. The force of the attack makes him fly back (he is injured and loses his cigar) where he lands right next to Doflamingo. The man is of course not passing up the opportunity to be chaotic – he stops Yozu and asks Crocodile to join up with him which Crocodile rejects (chapter 560 – 561). When we next see him he is fighting off some invisible force (most likely more WB pirates) but at least he has a new cigar.

When WB is stabbed in chapter 563 he is still on the ice in front of WB’s ship. He has an agitated reaction, revealing that he has lost to Whitebeard in the past (“I didn’t lose to such a weak man!!!”)

Even though Sengoku tries to get the other fleets under WB’s command to turn against him, WB proves his integrity and power. And he also gives a speech about how even if he is attacked by his son, he still loves him and he also explains that the son does not bear the sins of the father. It is either this absolute display of love and appreciation of his sons no matter whose blood they have and what they do OR it is his display of power and integrity that Crocodile reacts to, visibly distressed, but no longer showing the explosive shock and anger of his previous outburst (I’m not horrible at reading facial expressions but I’m not great at describing them. Look for yourselves in chapter 563). Also, following right after the panel showing Crocodile’s face we get Whitebeard thinking to himself: “A “weak man,” am I…? What an insolent man… I’m only one man, with one heart… And you’re the same… They call me a demon and a monster… But I won’t always be the “strongest” out there…!!! If I can bring one young life into the future, isn’t that enough…!?” And then he joins the battle.

He now focuses on bringing that young life into the future (saving Ace) and this is the point where Crocodile’s unusual actions start. After a talk about unconditional love for his sons and the statement that protecting a son is worth much more than being the strongest. Could Crocodile too have decided that protecting Luffy (his son?) and Luffy’s interests is more important than his grudge against Whitebeard?

The answer seems to be yes, because in chapter 566 he is the first one to follow Luffy across the siege wall and into the plaza where Ace’s execution was supposed to happen. And he stops it after Luffy is pushed back by the Admirals. The reason he gives to Sengoku for his unexpected action is that he “wants to wipe the smile from your faces.” After Doflamingo chops off Crocodile’s head they engage in a fight.

It is after Luffy uses conqueror’s Haki, which again seems to confirm his relation to Dragon, WB gives the order for everyone to support Luffy in chapter 570. Whether Crocodile has chosen to follow Whitebeard’s lead or if he is acting for himself, he gave Daz the order to protect Luffy. Daz stops Mihawk’s attack and once Mihawk cuts him down and goes for Luffy again, Crocodile is there to stop him and allow Luffy to continue one. He must have shaken off Doflamingo in the meantime.

And then Ace and Whitebeard die (chapters 574 and 576 respectively).

And while the battlefield descends into further chaos and Luffy is unable to protect himself, we get a panel of Crocodile (chapter 577), apparently standing still in the chaos that is around him. He does not seem to face the same way as the retreating WB forces or the Warlords and Pacifista in pursuit of the retreating pirates. Maybe he is looking at Whitebeard one last time.

And then he’s off, apparently crossing the entire battlefield in an instant to stop Akainu from dealing Luffy the killing blow. And after that he gets physically between Akainu and Jinbei and Luffy before he sends them flying out of reach with his sands (chapter 578.) He yells the order for someone to grab them and get them to a ship, followed by one of my favourite lines directed at Jinbei who has tasked himself with protecting Luffy: “If you want to protect something, do it right!!!” Since we generally speculate that Luffy’s parents (or Dragon at least) chose to sacrifice their chance of raising Luffy in order to protect him from exactly what is happening on this battlefield, that line suits the Crocodad theory well. Whether Crocodile left behind his child to protect it from being punished for the sins of his fathers or if he left him behind because a child would get in the way of his ambitions, right in this moment protecting Luffy is all that matters.

He then joins a group of Whitebeard pirates, forming a protective barrier against Akainu. Akainu taunts them that all of them are willing to give their lives for Luffy. Marco repeats what Whitebeard thought earlier: they will see this boy off into the new age.

All of these actions could also simply point towards Crocodile maybe having been part of Whitebeards crew at one time, but the timeline has some difficulties. It does not seem like anyone who is on the crew now treats him like they knew him or at one point cared about him like a brother. We have also not seen Crocodile or someone who looked like him in the Wano flashbacks. Teach, who joined when he was 12 (and Crocodile would have been 18) doesn’t seem to know him as a crewmate either. If he ever was on WB’s crew, he would have left as a young teenager. (And as a sidenote, WB was an old-fashioned guy, he did not want any women on his crew apart from medical staff. This would not have been a good environment for Crocodile if he had been a girl before meeting Iva. And he clearly was making a name for himself as a rookie without being attached to WB’s crew.)

It could also symbolize how great of a pirate Whitebeard was that even Crocodile, bearing a grudge against him, shows him respect by following his orders. But that seems a little bit boring to me.

That said, I do think a Crocodad reading of his actions is rewarding.

After this battle we also get to see Crocodile read about Luffy’s actions so he clearly is interested in him now. And there’s this great exchange between Daz and Crocodile in chapter 593 where Daz comments that Luffy’s scars take a while to fade which Crocodile takes as a comment on his own (old) wounds. Crocodile insists that his scars are “fully healed” and that he’s ready to return to the New World now. He has put the old wounds of his youth to rest, he is ready to return to tackle the New World once again.

And maybe any wounds and scars left on him regarding Luffy’s birth have started to heal too. The kid will be fine.

If you read through all of this you have my respect X’D

And if you have comments, additions and objections let me know~

[ukelele-boy]

I was rereading some of my posts from 2021 and was reminded of how much meta I used to write so imma share my crazy headcanon/ theory which i thought up as plot for a revolution fic:

RR verse is on the "Olympus will fall" timeline and Zeus' actions are speeding it up.

In the recent decade there has been several great prophecies back to back. And people have remarked how weird it is that there have been so many. What if the reason is because of Zeus?

Remember, in greek mythology there is a major theme of how Your Fate Cannot Be Defied. And Zeus, king of Olympus, has a major Fate: being overthrown. However he managed to "defy" it by eating Metis.

My idea is that he has been forcefully clawing out a future where he is still king of Olympus. By doing this, he is literally changing the flow of fate. And obviously fate wants to correct itself, so the harder he fights it, the more counterforce he triggers. All prophecies meant to lead to his overthrowing are suddenly sped up. Olympus begins to lose power. Zeus is aware of this. He is also aware how people are becoming suspicious. And he needs a scapegoat. And who better than the god of prophecy who is also a threat to the throne?

Apollo mentions that Zeus blamed him for his oracle revealing a prophecy "too early" and therefore causing it to happen early. However, everyone knows it's not possible to actually cause a prophecy to happen early...so why would Zeus even have this weird line of thought? everyone probably dismissed it as Zeus being irrational, but there a juicier theory this ties into:

Apollo being the one to overthrow Zeus.

The idea of "fall of the sun, the final verse". What if this is the final prophecy that is meant to happen before Zeus is overthrown? And what if the fall this speaks of is actually when Apollo fell close to chaos? When he pulled himself together there?

What if he reformed different from his original godly form. He was literally almost gone, his body was disintegrating. Maybe he pulled himself together using the energies of chaos. Apollo himself isn't aware of this, due to a suspicious memory gap between him clawing up from the cliff and him waking up next to Artemis.

And this adds to another headcanon of mine, the fates choose Apollo to be the god of prophecy on purpose. At first glance, this is a horrible match. If they wanted a good servant, why would they choose someone so closely tied to his heart and so likely to fight fate? Someone who dares get them drunk just to extend a human's lifespan? UNLESS... they WANT him to eventually try and defy fate??

Imagine if fate was a compass and Zeus had forcefully wrenched the needle point at a bleak dark future where Olympus falls with him. And this river direction has been set so deeply in stone and run on for so long, it has worn a grove and become the mostly likely future.

you need someone willing to fight, someone to wrench the needle out. SOMEONE FAMILAR WITH FATE AND Prophecy. Someone who has the power to fight it and win. Someone who has the will. Perhaps a baby god who was willing to fight Python, and who would have likely died there. But if he successfully did take on the powers of prophecy, one day that same godling would fight Python again, would absorb the powers of chaos to recreate himself.

Perhaps not today and maybe not even for the next four thousand years

but one day that godling would stare down at that wretched compass hand and decide to yank the flow out of its place. And maybe, that godling means a chance for Olympus to have a different future.

Anyways that's my crazy theory i hope it wasn't too confusing. It also links up with my other story theme idea about fate, hope and apollo blah blah blah, which i rambled about in a different post.

Edit: just remembered my other crazy thought, what if ZEUS PURPOSEFULLY TRIED TO GET RID OF APOLLO NOT ONLY CAUSE HE IS A THREAT TO THE THRONE BUT ALSO BECAUSE AS THE GOD OF PROPHECY HE IS MOST LIKELY TO REALIZE SOMETHING IS WRONG AND THAT ZEUS IS MESSING WITH FATE?!???? Basically pulling a imma say you're the murderer before u realise im the murderer. (i cant remember the actual saying Lmaoo)

[warcats-cat]

Sacred Animal

Summary: Hermes takes you on a "mystery date" that becomes very cute and silly, very quickly.

A/N: I'm doing it, I'm being brave and posting one of the drabbles I wrote like over a month ago but felt kinda shy about. Biggest, most fluffy Thank-You to @lickoutyourbrains for reading and rereading and encouraging me through everything. If you guys enjoy this one I'll consider posting the others. Please let me know what you think, and as always let me know if I missed any tags!

Read on Ao3 here!

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Hermes' domains were a wide net that covered a lot. Travelers, Messages, Thieves, Trickery and Cunning, Athletes, Merchants, Speed, Language; the list went on for a while. And in keeping with the diversity of his domains, his moods and interests tended to whirl and swing around with the days. 

It made for some chaotic date nights. 

But really, you enjoyed the chaos; the thrill of his surprises, not really being able to guess but being able to follow where his mind was going. You could keep up with him, and he loved you for that. Therefore, date nights like tonight were surprising, but not completely out of left field. 

You were bundled up in a thick coat with ear muffs on your head; it wasn't snowing yet, but it was cold enough that the snow predicted for the following days would stick, and probably make a thick blanket on the ground. 

You faintly wondered if Hermes had ever made snow angels…

“Ready?” he asked at the front door of your apartment building; he was wearing a wide-brimmed hat instead of his usual helmet, and it cast a shadow over his eyes in lieu of his sunglasses. He also had a warm-looking red cloak, apparently lined with fur or some other fluff over a thin shirt that you couldn't quite see. He probably didn't need the cloak, he never seemed to feel cold, but it was important to keep up appearances when visiting public places. 

So you were going somewhere that would have other people. 

You huffed, checking the strap of the bag you carried to make sure it was close to your chest - he could still easily steal your wallet and phone, but it was a little harder when he couldn't just reach into your pockets. One of these days, you might just cave and buy the weird chest-strap bag that kept all your valuables up high and theoretically safe from nefarious hands. See if he could break into that…

Belongings secure, coat and muffs adjusted, you nodded and his face lit with a grin as he effortlessly lifted you into his arms. You could barely see the glow of his eyes under the shadow of the hat - the longer you dated Hermes, the more you learned to look closer for the little things. Right now, he was excited; more childlike joy than gleeful mischief, which was even more exciting for you. As much as you enjoyed his pranks and silliness, it was rare that he had this much anticipation for something. 

He was usually all soft smiles and warmth, but this was bright like a star. 

You tucked your face into Hermes' chest, knowing he was going to fly directly to wherever he was taking you. There would be no sight-seeing on this trip; another mystery to confuse you about potential locations. He pressed a gentle kiss into your hair before taking off, the wind quickly whipping around the pair of you as he sped towards your destination. 

It was still bright out - the sun wouldn't set for another hour or two, and the light and wind surrounded you for a few moments before you felt Hermes slow and finally land. At least this time he hadn't gone high enough to make your ears pop. 

You waited for his arms to loosen, looking up at him after a few moments. 

“Put me down?” You asked, teasingly. He shrugged. 

“Nah. It's pretty cold, it's nice to have a personal heater.” He replied. He only laughed when you lightly slapped his chest with the back of your hand, and finally released you. 

“How does your hat not fly off?” You asked, noticing the tips of his hair under the brim were ruffled, but the hat itself remained secure. He shrugged again. 

“God magic?” he theorized, jokingly. That was his answer to a lot of questions about his anomalies, and you knew better than to press. You rolled your eyes and huffed, crossing your arms. 

“Ok, fine,” you gestured for him to lead, “where exactly are we?” He took your hand and began to walk across a rather large expanse of grass, passing a little gravel parking lot full of cars, and you could see some farm buildings in the distance. 

“We’re gonna meet some friends!” the wide smile returned, as if his statement wouldn't raise more questions, but you just chuckled and followed. You were definitely on some kind of farm-store property; a place that probably did apple picking or a pumpkin patch in the fall. Right now, though, all of the trees were bare, the grassy field yellowish from winter frost, and the rows of dirt in the distance empty as the plants that grew there waited for spring. 

The pair of you walked up to a little gate, where an older man was sitting with a little cash box. The man smiled as you approached. 

“Well, how can I help you two?” he asked, a bit of a ‘country lilt’ to his words. You expected Hermes to wave a hand and work his ‘god magic’ on the man so he allowed you to pass, but instead your godly boyfriend handed over a real, American ten-dollar bill and responded “Two please.” 

You tried not to look at Hermes in shock and confusion; he ‘paid’ for a lot of your dates, but not usually with actual money. You faintly wondered if he was starting to understand the difference between stealing from corporations and small businesses; a subject of many debates and discussions throughout your time together. You were impressed. 

The man took the bill and traded it into his cash box for two bright green silicone bracelets, and began to fish out some change before Hermes held up a hand and told the man to keep the change. 

The god handed you a bracelet and led you around the gate as the man wished you both to have fun. After it appeared Hermes was not going to say anything about it, you tugged on his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Who are you and where is my boyfriend?” You asked, only half-jokingly. Maybe even less than half. 

He bounced on the balls of his feet; damn he was really excited. “I learn things when we talk! I'm supporting some local farmers!” He defended with a grin. “I’m not only a Patron of thieves, you know.” 

With that response apparently being all he planned to say, he began to walk again, taking your hand, and by extension, you, with him. The pair of you were walking around the main building which you were now certain was some kind of store, and as you turned the corner you could hear the excited jabbering of children. 

What the heck.

‘Meeting friends,’ he said. You were on a farm. There were little kids. You looked at the bracelet now on your wrist which read ‘Friendly Fields Local Craftworks and Petting Zoo’ in thin yellow letters. 

Well, this was certainly the most unique date he'd ever taken you on. 

In the rapidly diminishing distance, you saw a series of low fences housing several animals, and about a dozen children with parents in varying stages of exasperation. Most of the little ones were crowded around a hutch of extremely fluffy rabbits, but there was also a pen with mini ponies, one with two alpacas, one with a cow, one filled with chickens, and one with a small handful of sheep. You were pleased to notice that all of the pens had little heaters for the animals, and were sheltered in case it rained. 

You had to admit, this was kinda cute. 

Hermes continued to lead, heading straight for the sheep who ‘baah’d at him as you both came near. This one was the farthest off, and it seemed none of the children were very interested in visiting the sheep. 

“Hello, lovely ladies,” Hermes said as he leaned down and began to scratch one under its chin. You were a bit surprised; normally petting zoo animals were pretty apathetic towards their visitors, unless there was food involved. But all four of the wooly sheep had wandered over and were waiting for Hermes' attention. 

“So you're the god of sheep.” You said, a wry smile on your face as you watched him pet one animal with each hand. 

“Ha! You're close,” he replied, “I’m the god of shepherds. But sheep are one of my animals.” He paused, realizing you hadn't joined in, and stood back up to look at you. “Is this ok? You like petting things…” he asked, and now his face was hesitant.

You did like petting things. You constantly tried to pet the stray cats around your apartment complex, and the second someone offered for you to pet their dog you were all over those good boys and girls. You had even been to petting zoos before! Sheep were one of your favorite animals (although now you were absolutely not going to tell Hermes that). You felt your cheeks get hot, and it wasn't from wind burn. 

“Well, you looked like you were pretty excited to see them, and I didn't want to get in your way…” you said lamely. In truth, you just thought watching Hermes talk to a small herd of sheep was adorable, and had forgotten you were also supposed to be interacting with the animals. 

Hermes smirked, and pulled you a little closer, holding out a hand to the sheep closest to him, “here, just let her sniff you first. They'll probably feel a lot safer than normally because I'm here.” 

You followed his lead, surprised when the sheep forewent sniffing your hand and plopped her little chin in your palm. You could almost believe she was smiling at you. A surprised giggle bubbled out of you; no animal had ever done that. 

Seeing that there were now enough hands for all four to get pets at the same time, the whole little herd came up to the fence to vie for attention. It was strange and a little wonderful; their wool was thick and dense and incredibly warm, once you pushed your fingertips into the fleece. Hermes was saying something to the two in front of him, but you were only barely aware of that as you watched the little sheeps’ tiny, nubby tails wagging and twitching. 

He was probably giving them a blessing, the big softie; to be warm and live long and always have the tastiest grass. 

You had no idea how long the two of you had stood there, spoiling the little sheep with your scritches; thankfully the sun hadn't set yet, but it was a little darker. Hermes led you around to the other pens, now significantly quieter as several of the families and children left for the evening. There were still a good number of people around, but not so rowdy. One of the alpacas was interested in the pair of you, though not nearly as much as the sheep. The horses looked at you like you were some kind of aliens; as if you were the ones in the pens for their entertainment. Hermes avoided the cow, saying she was giving him a dirty look. 

You knew he had a history with cows but you didn't think it went that deep…

The chickens were also quick to look for Hermes' attention, running over to the fence posts to investigate. They formed a wide clump of feathers, and would have been centered around him if there hadn't been a barrier in the way. As it were, several chickens were reaching their heads through the fencing, clucking and (apparently) trying to peck at the god. You giggled. Hermes looked around a moment, that mischievous smile on his face, and you saw him pull his hat down in the back just far enough to free the wings behind his ears, which flapped a few times at the chickens in return. 

The chickens went wild, some of them darting away, some of them flapping their wings back, some almost screeching; to the point that one of the farmhands came over to make sure they weren't fighting, and Hermes had to quickly slip his hat back in place. 

You'd never pet a chicken before; and the farm hand was kind enough to let you and Hermes each hold one. They were warm, surprisingly heavy, and you were taken aback when you realized the bird was purring. Not as deep and consistent as a cat’s purr, but still noticeable; the vibrations just barely palpable in your hands. Hermes' face was practically glowing in the low light, looking at you holding the chicken. After a little more cuddling of the soft feathers, and watching Hermes (probably) whispering a blessing to the other birds as well, the farmhand helped you place the chicken back in her coop, and Hermes led you to the last pen; the bunnies.

Angora rabbits, to be specific, with their carefully brushed fur and softly padded pen. A visitor could see clearly that these were the prized animals for the farm. And they certainly were cute; well-socialized and hopping over to see the newcomers, hoping for treats, clearly relaxed while being handled by the humans. 

You opted not to hold a rabbit, but you did get to pet a few of them as they wandered from person to person - their fur was as silky-soft as you imagined; always hearing about angora wool being special and extra soft (and probably extra expensive) but never going out of your way to find clothes made with it. 

The sun was finally setting in earnest, and the farmhands were beginning to pack up the petting area and move the animals back into their warm barns and hutches; the little country store was still open though, and it only took a little bit of begging to convince Hermes to go inside and look around. 

He’d already been planning on going in, but you were cute when you made your sad-eyes and exaggerated pout. 

Inside, the shop was warm and smelled like fresh cinnamon and vanilla. There were a few people milling around, looking at the different products - lots of fresh baked goods, homemade preserves, craft items, and even a cubby of milled goat milk soap. There was also a large sign on the counter that read “Chelly is OUT” in large red letters, and you assumed the tile that read OUT could be flipped to say something like IN as well. 

You wondered if you'd get a peek at Chelly. You did love shops that had kitties wandering around. 

Hermes unpinned his cloak so it hung at his shoulders instead of clipped at his throat, and you loosened your coat as well; the shop was nice and warm, and you were getting a little too warm under so many layers. 

Hermes was definitely just showing off his shirt - a meme shirt, because of course he'd been collecting those recently... 

You took your time looking at different things, eventually Hermes handed you a little shopping basket with a knowing grin, and you blushed again as you carefully placed a bottle of lavender oil for baking and a pack of flaky, delicious looking chocolate pastries into the basket. You were a bit surprised when Hermes actually added some things to the basket - namely two little crochet sheep that had a tag reading [80% angora, 20% wool] and a crochet chicken that apparently had a squeaker in its body. 

Oh gods. That was going to drive his siblings insane. 

And then suddenly, Hermes yelped and jumped, floating just a second too long before landing and looking down at the floor. 

Looking at a little tortoise riding around on a skateboard-like contraption.

The yelp had attracted the attention of the woman running the counter, but Hermes was unbothered; consumed with the sheer delight upon seeing the little reptile appear from under the shelves. 

“Oh, I'm so sorry!” the woman said frantically, “she's perfectly healthy, I promise, she just gets a little feisty when it's close to closing time, because she knows once the customers leave she gets a strawberry. She didn't bite you, did she?”

Meanwhile, Hermes had become a metaphorical kid in a candy store, sitting down right on the floor and cooing at the tortoise. He waved the woman off, saying, “She's so cute! So fast!” And then addressing the turtle, a mess of babbling that included “Look at your little wheels!” 

You'd seen many moods from your godly boyfriend. You'd seen him happy, frustrated, confused, annoyed (usually by your car and your coworkers). You'd seen him drunk and giggly, when he had twirled you around until you both threw up. You'd seen him cry, though rarely; he rarely felt safe to do so. You'd even seen him divinely angry once when a nymph at one of Dio's parties asked why a mortal like you were allowed to attend. 

You had not seen him like this. This was newborn-baby-cute-aggression levels of babbling. He gently scratched around the tortoise’s shell, watching the reptile wiggle when he apparently hit a good spot. (It was admittedly adorable.) You were pretty sure you could see his wings ruffling under his hat. 

Thankfully, the woman was pleased with Hermes' excitement. “Oh, yes. Poor Chelly was hatched without her back legs working. My son made the little wheel board for her. She has one that only has wheels on the back, but she seems to prefer the ability to race around.” 

Ah. Chelly was the tortoise.

“It's brilliant!” Hermes' replied, and then after a moment of hesitation, he surprised you again. “Can I pick her up?” He asked, almost bashful. 

The woman only laughed. “Sure, if she'll let you! Just be careful, she likes to give love bites.” She patted the reptile’s shell gently and asked if you needed any help before returning to the counter to attend another customer. 

Your boyfriend was still sitting on the floor. 

Not knowing what else to do, you joined him on the floor. 

He gently wiggled his fingers in front of Chelly, and when she didn't reach out and bite, he carefully scooped her off of her skateboard and held her right up to his face. 

“Helloooo, Darling! You like to go fast, huh? Go Zoomies? You're such a pretty girl!” He was almost blushing, and for the second time you wondered what clone had spontaneously replaced the man you were dating. Meanwhile, the tortoise was content to extend her neck and brush his nose with her face. Her front legs wiggled as if she was still walking or possibly swimming, and he continued to talk to her. 

The longer you sat there, the more you wondered if they could understand each other. 

With a sigh, you gave Hermes a kiss on his cheek, told him you were going to look some more, and left to explore the other shelves. (You may or may not have snapped several dozen photos of him cooing at Chelly in the meantime.)

He sat there with the tortoise a full ten minutes; meanwhile you found your own mischievous gift. You had paid quietly and hidden the item at the bottom of your purse, under the ‘valuables’ and wrapped in a brown paper bag. That was for later. 

When he finally rejoined you, you playfully bumped him with your elbow as he took some offered hand sanitizer from the counter to clean his hands.  He paid for the rest of the items in your basket, once again with real money, and you knew better than to question it at this point. The pair of you rebuttoned your extra layers and prepared to go out into the night. 

“So, are you replacing me?” you asked. He smiled, nuzzling your cheek with a little huff. 

“Nobody could replace you.” He replied softly, and your face suddenly felt a little warmer. He easily picked you up once more, having put your purchases into his trusty messenger bag, and with little warning he took off. 

This time, he did fly a little higher, just so you could see the stars on the way home. The cold wind bit your nose and you would probably have chapped cheeks in the morning, but it was worth it. 

He landed easily outside your apartment building, fishing the brown paper bag out of his pack. He would have to be back on Olympus tomorrow morning, and was leaving tonight to have time to leave a trap for Apollo. You barely had a moment before he pulled you into a kiss, then twirling you around and dipping you backwards, throwing off your balance. At least he kept you from falling, even if it was an almost cartoonish dip. He was probably floating to have you so far back. 

“So,” he panted lightly, his breath making little bursts of fog in the night air, “did you have fun?” You laughed, patting his shoulders as a request to stand back up. His face was positively glowing as he helped you right yourself. 

Yes, he had been floating, damn god powers…

You laughed anyway; “Yes. More fun than I have in a while.” You said, and it was the truth. Hermes' silly side was your favorite thing about him, and you had gotten to see so much of it tonight. His smile was brilliant once more, and under the shadow of his hat you saw his eyes start to glow silvery. 

“I love you.” he said, and kissed you again. “I'll be back in two days. I'll pick you up from work.” 

“Okay. Don't be too mean to Apollo, okay?” You teased. He rolled his eyes, and began to break away, before you grabbed the strap of his messenger bag and stuffed your own small gift inside, feeling it disappear into the organized clutter of the bottomless bag. He quirked an eyebrow in question. 

“Don't open it until you get back to Olympus. Promise?” You asked, and held up your pinky finger. 

He snorted. “Sure. Promise.” He linked his pinky with yours, and you shook. Truly a sacred oath. One last stolen kiss, and then he was gone, zipping away into the night sky. You hugged the bag from the store to your chest, and went inside to your (thankfully warm) apartment. 

The treats went into the kitchen, to be enjoyed for breakfast tomorrow. You were already scrolling your phone for that lavender shortbread cookie recipe you'd seen a week ago and thinking you would have to go to the store tomorrow after work anyway. The little sheep plushies (you now noticed one was a ram and one was an ewe. Dork.) went onto your shelf of ‘Hermes Trinkets’ for now, though you knew you would probably move them to your bed for cuddling soon. Damn those things were soft. There was also a pair of thick purple socks that you hadn't seen him grab, equally soft, and you already planned to change into them with your pajamas. 

Not even an hour later, as you were settling in for bed, you received a text message with a photo attached. 

Hermes, his hair wild and hat off, with a gigantic grin on his face. Proudly wearing the crochet headband with a carefully curled pair of stuffed ram horns. Captioned: ‘Better than my laurels.’

You suddenly really hoped he wouldn't wear that to council meetings. You'd created a monster. 

(If you enjoyed, please reblog!)

[sallysavestheday]

End of Year 8+8+8+8 Fic Recs

It's that time again! This was a tough year to narrow down, so you get 8 of each, with no author repeats. There's such great stuff out there to read. Enjoy!

8 of my favorite long fics of 2024

sisyphus, unhappy by @tobermoriansass. M: 140K, WIP. Curufinrod after re-embodiment is the simplest description, but it's so much more. Philosophy, musical theory, racial and sexual politics, a very dark family comedy of manners. Featuring one of my favorite Maglors ever.

Two Half-Kings and a Full Lake Between by @melestasflight and @polutrope. T: 12K. A fantastic exploration of the period in Maglor's regency when Fingolfin had arrived but Maedhros had not yet been rescued. Tense and compelling. Another favorite Maglor.

Northern Stars by @idrilsscribe. T: 62K, WIP. An AU of an AU, featuring traumatized kidnapped-while-young Elrohir making his way back from Harad to Imladris with Glorfindel's assistance. Elegant, moving prose; fantastic worldbuilding; delightfully complex OCs; etc., etc.

I Do; I Will by @littlewhitemouseagain. M: 23K. Fingon fights all the Feanorions, back to back, at his own coronation. Glorious (and painful, and moving, and hopeful, in a very Fingon way).

i've been so worried (you've been so still) by @welcomingdisaster. E: 9.5K. Maglor is drawn to an acolyte of Este after Maedhros is taken. An absolutely fantastic OC, delicious worldbuilding, and peak Sexy Maglor. Just WOW.

a stranger in my bed (a pounding in my head) by vauquelin. T: 11K. A surprise new installment makes this a 2024 fic, hooray! Maedhros and Fingon wake up married. Maedhros wants it annulled because he can't imagine Fingon is happy; Fingon is miserable therefore. Hilarious and touching at once, with the best punchline of the year.

Across So Wide A Sea by @emyn-arnens. G: 20K, WIP. A fantastic epistolary fic: Galadriel writes to Finrod (after his death), as a deliberate historical record that quickly gets very personal. Rich and complex and humorous and poignant. Delightful.

The Other Daughter of Twilight by Anna_Wing. G: 16K. Maedhros/Thuringwethil. Just read it. Go.

8 of my favorite shorter fics of 2024

The Vigil by @balrogballs. G: 5K. Celebrian plans and delivers her own sendoff, the night before sailing. Oh, my heart.

A flickering flame by @camille-lachenille. G: 960 words. Andreth/Aegnor, Finrod, and a Gil-galad origin story, oh ow!

To Evil End by @zealouswerewolfcollector. T: 2900 words. Decades after the Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Fingon comes back to Maedhros. Or does he? GAH!!

Body and Spirit by @meadowlarkx. G: 1500 words. An anonymous scholar considers the food and drink customary during Elven pregnancy. Deliciously thoughtful and creative.

we could be kings by @queerofthedagger. T: 1600 words. The copper circlet Maitimo is crowned with is a work of art. He finds that he likes it much better on another's brow. Oh, babies.

Two Peredhil and an Elf in a Boat by @cycas. G: 5000 words. Elrond begins to make his peace with Earendil. Tender, humorous, touching.

precious stone set in the silver sea by rain_sleet_snow. G: 2000 words. A Celeborn/Galadriel origin story in which he is a Teler from Alqualonde. Gorgeous. Read the rest of the series, too.

The Warning Sounds Too Late by @eilinelsghost. T: 6000 words. Part 18 of the fabulous Atandil (Finrod/Beor) series, featuring a family dinner that, like so many, sparks insights and regrets.

8 oldies but goodies, circa 2013-2021, that I've recently reread and loved again.

The West Wind Quartet by @hhimring. T: 16K. Always a fave. Maglor unexpectedly takes on a Sinda as a student. Elegant, original, and moving.

Flawed and Fair by @a-tehta. M: 33K. Classic Glorthelion. Hilarious and tender all at once. Those GUYS!!!

Though All Whom Ye Have Slain Should Entreat For You by @thearrogantemu. G: 12K. Maedhros and Elwe have it out upon Elwe's return. A classic, for all the best reasons.

The Sound Below Sound by @adnirod. T: 35K. Gimleaf eloquence and angst and beauty. Spectacular.

Detour by @dawnfelagund. T: 8K. Reborn Maedhros is resigned to a gloomy life as a teacher in Fifth Age Tirion. Then Fingon Returns, with hope (and stickers).

Defiant Hope, Take Wing, by @lordnelson100. T: 10K. Halenthir: an alternative ending to the War of the Jewels, and a heartbreaker.

a light in darkness, hope in woe, by @admirablemonster. E: 4K. A Gil-galad origin story. Perpetual fave.

Letter 97 by @batshape. T: 9K. Orc academics, Russingon, and musings on the afterlife. Delightful.

8 favorites among my own fics from 2024. If you haven't read them, do give these a try.

When the Hurly-Burly's Done. G: 850 words. Elrond and Gil-galad and Celebrimbor picnic at the edge of the world.

The Blue Line Between Sea and Sky. G: 900 words, Idril/Tuor/Voronwe. Voronwe drowns. And drowns. And drowns.

Larded With Sweet Flowers. G: 400 words. Edrahil's last moments.

O, Blithe New-comer! G: 1000 words, background Russingon. Another origin story.

The Heaped Ashes of the Night Turn Into Leaves. G: 850 words. Glorfindel is being sent back to Middle-earth. Finrod has FOMO.

Deeper Roots Than Reason. G: 5500 words. The Oath of Fëanor makes its way across history and cultures, dragging Doom in its wake. TRSB 2024.

Among So Many Marvels. G: 1500 words. Early friendship between Eomer and Faramir, built around their people's stories.

Molded on One Stem. G: 3200 words. An exploration of Fingon and Aredhel's relationship, in which they are, fortunately and unfortunately, very much alike.

Everyone! What have you been reading? Consider yourself tagged. Please share!

[asexualbookbird]

Ah, I read some books in 2024, huh? And eight rereads? Who am I. Tried a lot of new things this year which yay! Go me! Branching out! Not all of those were successes, but I did it and therefore no one can criticise me. But we all know what's important here. So here you go, THE BEST AND WORST OF 2024 (in no particular order)!

THE BEST BOOKS OF 2024

The Adventure of Amina al-Sirafi by Shannon Chakraborty - yes, I am still thinking about this, thank you for asking! A full entire adult of a person, a mother even, going on adventures? Fighting and killing and fucking and living? Hell yeah! More of this, please! I would also love to see a prequel of Amina's adventures before the book timeline. Everything about this was so great, I look forward to rereading it.

The City We Became by NK Jemisin - I was wary about this because it was so polarizing to readers. On one hand, even my least favorite Jemisin was still fun, on the other hand, I know nothing about New York. HOWEVER. The audiobook was FABULOUS. I wholeheartedly believe the audio is why I enjoyed this so much. This was FUN this is what reading should feel like all the time.

When the Angels Left the Old Country by Sacha Lamb -FRIEND TO MY SOUL. Again, beautiful audio performance. Beautiful story. I need my own copy so I can reread this to my hearts content. It's cute, it deals with heavy topics, it's gay, it's the friend to my soul.

WORST BOOKS OF 2024

The Novice by Taran Matharu - Ugh. Bought when released, knowing nothing, which seems to be a Theme with books sitting on my shelf I end up not enjoying. Learning about the history of this book made me more angry than the book itself. What do you mean his entire series was bought and published without an editor? It shows, but. Come on. Wattpad born and it shows.

Last Heir to Blackwood Library by Hester Fox- this was only for a summer reading bingo challenge, but come on. There are ways to pull the memory loss, or altered memory plot line and have it work. This did not do that. Wish a library would eat my memories of this book so I never had to think of it again.

Red Sister by Mark Lawrence - Mark Lawrence is one of those authors who writes long books because he thinks it makes him a Good Writer. Mark Lawrence is one of those writers who is afraid to write adult characters because he thinks they won't sell, but continuously puts them in adult situations to show how Hard their lives are and Isn't This Dark And Gritty And Sad without doing the work to actually get there. It toes the line between fantasy in scifi, but not well. It feels more indecisive than anything else.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

Firebreak by Nicole Kornher-Stace -more like fireBROKE MY HEART!!!! It was on my tbr list for years, and I finally found a copy and I'm glad I own it so I can reread it at my leisure. It's what Ready Player One could have been if it was actually good.

Godkiller by Hannah Kaner - Okay honestly, this and City were fighting for a spot in the main top three. Either could be there. I do honorable mentions for this very reason. I was surprised to learn this was a tiktok book, because yknow. It's actually Good. Witcher vibes, but with more respect towards women. Why isn't book three in my possession right this second.

Someone You Can Build A Nest In by John Wiswell - I Am Normal About This Book. It was fun to read and annotate it for a friend. It was fun to be around as two friends read it and I loved seeing their reactions to it. Loved cheering on Shesheshen, still think she deserves to eat more people. Friends and I will still share biting goop memes with the caption "Shex3 posting". It's safe to say this has rewritten my brain.

DISHONORABLE MENTIONS

Legacy of Ash by Matthew Ward - I was hyped about this book before release. I bought book two before even reading this because I was that sure I'd enjoy it. What a fool. This did NOT have to be 800 pages. It was another example of someone writing many words because they think that's what Good Writers Do, and not stopping to think about what those words even SAY. Which, in this case, was ~Absolutely Nothing~

Ghost Station by SA Barnes - crying sobbing this book was so fucking stupid. Best thing to come out of it was seeing a friend read it and confirming that yes, it was That Fucking Stupid. Learning the author mainly writes YA Paranormal explained why everyone had Too Stupid To Live disease.

I'm Afraid You've Got Dragons by Peter S Beagle - Admittedly only here to make things even and because it's still pretty fresh in my mind. I was soooo excited when this was announced, and now I'm soooo happy I didn't preorder it. More boring than anything else, but I don't wish it was longer because it already felt Too Long.

Once again, ignored rereads because I feel like that's cheating somehow. Let these be for highlighting new and fun books I discovered! I feel like the last few Bricks I've read have been Very Bad so I hope a couple of the bricks I have planned for 2025 are actually good. Considering one of those is Labyrinth's Heart, I think we're okay.

[narcjsistx]

𝐔𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐃 | kaiser x reader

— part nine

plot: kaiser comforted you after a bad and slow breakup, but what will happen now considering what you two shared? is everything still unexpected or is there something you both simply have yet to realize?. fluff shit 'cause yeah!!

words: 2.7k (2711)

extra: it will probably become a multi part story, tell me if you're interested in a part ten!. This is my first time trying a chapter with images, but I need them for the plot

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ; take a look, trust me!. you can find the other parts of the story by searching in the section dedicated to bllk

You look at your phone, your hands shaking every time you reread even just two or three of the comments on the post: it's incredible how everyone, everyone except Gabriel, has sensed your discomfort in his touch and his simple presence. Or maybe he understood it too, but he forced it because he knew it would bother you, which would be typical of him. On the other hand, there are also many comments that note Michael's presence at the fashion show, how he looked at you and how you actually looked back at him. Many also noted how he seemed angry when he saw that creep of your ex

You didn't think you'd make his presence so obvious, but you're obviously bad at keeping it under wraps. On the one hand, it's normal that he was at the show tonight, after all, for the media you're still best friends, but maybe it was the way you looked at each other that made someone have doubts, because in the midst of the sea of comments about Gabriel there are also some about Kaiser and his gaze towards you

The show ended less than half an hour ago, it's already midnight and the agency published the post, tagging you. The fashion show, beyond the unexpected, was a real success: you came back viral in less than a few hours, and now everyone seems to forget the hatred they poured out on you when you were still considered the one who cheated on Gabriel. You have many emotions in your body, such as joy and happiness, but also many similar to sadness and anger

But also a lot, a lot of confusion

Why didn't you know that Gabriel, who until a few weeks ago was your boyfriend, was one of the founders of this fashion agency. Why did he seem to be so in tune with the designer, that you swear he never mentioned you in all the time you were together? How could you not know these things?

Gabriel had an agency, yes, but an Italian one... the same one you worked for and from which you voluntarily resigned. You don't deny that he had often mentioned to you that he had some connection with some agency in Germany, but none of these involved being a founder. Also, the designer seemed to be the same age as you, so why didn't you know her? In the fashion world everyone knows each other a little, even you knew models or designers for whom you never actually worked, so why did this Ursula seem to have appeared out of nowhere for you but not for Gabriel?. Everything seemed to have a common thread, but you lacked the light to make it work and therefore understand it

A notification from your phone wakes you from your thoughts. You look down, at the screen

You read the message, and sigh to release some tension. Maybe having Kaiser to comfort you now would be nice, but hell, you don't want to look like someone who waits for the person you love only to unload on him all the bad you have inside

You look at yourself in the mirror: you are still wearing your makeup, your hair is loose and there is no trace of the dress, replaced by underwear and a simple white tank top. You left the clothes you were wearing before in the dressing room, but evidently they took them to be washed without your consent. You still have something else to wear to go home, but you don't have the physical strength when it comes to searching through the big wardrobe that the staff has granted you

Your phone keeps getting notification after notification, and you notice how the post has now been replicated on another social, where there are several people arguing in the comments

There are people who support you, others who have noticed Kaiser's presence, others who still believe the version that Gabriel gave of you where you are the one who cheated on him. It is precisely this last thing that bothers you the most, because you are probably one of the people in the world who viscerally hates everything that deals with cheat, physical and in the field of friendship. They called you a whore, a slut, but traitor is what bothers you the most

And now, seeing the situation you are in, you regret having abandoned everyone years ago to go to Italy with him. Italy has given you so much, you can't help but admit it, but you would have preferred never to have met the man who is now destroying you after you were back to square one after so much pain. You wanted to go back to being yourself, the same you were and always will be, but you wanted to do it with the knowledge that Gabriel can no longer do anything to you

But apparently, he still can

And that means you can't really start over yet

You sigh, resting your head on your folded arms on the vanity table. You have to be strong, because no one will be for you, or rather, you know that Kaiser would be, but you have always been an independent girl

Lost in your thoughts, you hear some female voices in the hallway. It's probably some model, but there's a voice that you can't quite recognize as a female. You raise your head when you hear the door suddenly open, and your eyes widen when you see who it is

Gabriel. You don't know how he did it, but he's here, with his usual dick face

"What?" you say, turning to him, nerves on edge. You watch him slowly close the door behind him, leaning his back against the finely crafted wood "Surprise". You look at him disgusted, while he seems absolutely amused by your behavior "I didn't know you were the founder of an agency in Germany. Not only do you tell false things about me, but also to me" you say in a sour tone, and he doesn't seem at all hurt by your words, which slide off him without hitting him "About you, to you... I don't see any difference, honestly. As long as you're in the middle it's fine, right?" he asks giggling, and you are tempted to take the perfume bottle next to you and throw it at him

"Seriously, what do you want?" you ask annoyed, and he seems serious again "You already know. Back together, you and me, back to our home in Italy. I'll say that I said things about you in a moment of anger and everyone will understand me because oh, they love me so much. And you'll go back to having a respectable life and a respectable boyfriend" he says

You swear you're fighting a battle with yourself to not throw yourself at him and beat them until he's dead. He knows all about the pain he's caused you, and now what does he want? To get back together? You and him back in that house? You'd rather puke until the day you die, which would be soon anyway. Gabriel has destroyed you, and you know that if you accept his apology he'll do exactly what he's done before. It's a wicked game, one he loves to play with his favorite victim, you

He loves the feeling of knowing you are beneath him, compliant, always ready to accept his screams at you. He knew from the beginning that you simply needed someone to love you, and he turned the situation to his advantage. But now he doesn't know that you don't want to play his games anymore, that you've finally understood that he has reached the limit of everything he can do. He doesn't know that the role of respectable boyfriend that he used to have is now held by Kaiser, who has always been the boy he didn't have to worry about and who he has always kept away from you since you've been together

“You’ve always been good at jokes, I’ll give you that” you say sarcastically, rising from the stool you’ve been sitting on, slowly walking towards him “But if you have any intention of making me be who I’ve always been with you, you’re sorely mistaken. I’m sick of all your fucking drama, your lies, just being you! You enjoy using me because you know you can do it, but hey, bad news, that girl you love is gone. Subjugate another person, another whore since you always thought of me as one, but don’t even joke about me getting back into a relationship with you" you say, walking towards him, your voice firm and confident “You’re a worm, one of those parasites. You only love the ones you can use, because no one really loves you for who you are, because you suck. You change people’s minds so much that you make them your lovers, and hell, I admit you did that to me too and you succeeded, it worked for our entire relationship. But parasites, if they come into contact with insecticide, they die" you say

You end up in front of him, a few inches away. You hold his gaze for the first time in a long time, and you have no intention of looking away. The pressure is building, but so is your desire to make him understand what a shitty person he is

"The insecticide is my self-respect, which you tried to take away from me. But you can't make me whore, a slut, yours anymore. And if you think that-" you keep talking, but you feel his hands coming to your jaw, holding you still. You remain paralyzed, trying to free yourself from his grip "What the fuck do you want to do to me? Shut me up? What do you mean, that I'm right, that you know how much you suck?" you say in a challenging tone, not wanting to stay quiet

His gaze is fixed on you, while his hands tighten their grip more and more. It's hurting you, but it's nothing you can't handle after everything he's done to you. "You remain a whore even when I give you the chance to fix it" he says, and moves his hand just enough to pinch your cheek, leaving a huge, painful red mark

"Who would be a whore?"

You turn to the door, behind Gabriel. Kaiser's slender figure looks like a miracle, and hell, from the look on his face he seems to have heard far too much of everything he's told you. You breathe a small sigh of relief, and your grip is released the moment Gabriel seems to hear Kaiser's voice. He turns, meeting the gaze of your secret boyfriend, who is clenching his hands into fists at his sides, making the veins in his hands stand out

They look at each other, and you see the hatred that has always united them. Gabriel has hated Kaiser from the first moment, and you know after reading the letters that Micheal has never tolerated him. Gabriel has forbidden you to see him for a long time, and Kaiser blames him for having taken you away from him. But now, beyond the hatred, you reflect in your ex's gaze a hint of fear, which he is trying not to show

"I only see one whore in this room, maybe two, but I don't have the necessary proof" he says, and you are surprised at how he still tries to play the role of the righteous one, even though he knows that everything is against him. Gabriel knows very well that Kaiser in terms of strength can even kill him, and yet he is acting as if he doesn't feel even a shred of fear, even though his eyes tell another story. Michael looks at him for a few seconds, even chuckling. His tattooed hand then meets the other man's head, who ends up lying on the floor with his head crushed "Whore? Me?"

It's a quick gesture, which takes you a bit by surprise. You rub your cheek with the pinch, from which you feel a trickle of blood coming out when you bring your hand in front of your gaze. Kaiser watches the scene, noticing both the blood and the red on your face, and this thing seems to ignite something in him: he picks the man up bodily from the ground, slamming him against the wall while holding him by the shoulders "What the fuck is wrong with you to do something like that to her? Isn't it enough for you to be a piece of shit?" he yells at Gabriel, who is now seriously starting to shake. You jump at the gesture, coming up behind Kaiser as you shake his shoulder to calm him down, but he doesn't even seem to notice you as he looks at the man in front of him with the same intensity he's concentrating on scoring. It seems like he's now venting everything he feels for Gabriel, lethal hatred

"Micheal please, don't overdo it" you say in a pleading tone, but nothing seems to stop his raging river "How the fuck do you call yourself a man if you don't even know how to treat a girl who until recently was your girlfriend? Are you really so disgusting that you don't know how to react to reality except with your hands?" he screams, and in a messy way he slams him against the wall. The situation seems to be seriously getting more serious than you think, and you shake his shoulders so as to at least make him understand that if he continues like this he will be the one to be in the wrong

"I don't care if you call me a whore, because I don't care what you think of me. But if you, who are shit, call her a whore, who only put reality in your face, it pisses me off. If you can't accept reality it's not my problem, but it's my problem if you try to put your hands on her" he says harshly, and only after a while can he feel your agitation. With a sigh full of tension he releases his shoulders, and Gabriel falls to the ground as he tries to catch his breath. The scene seems to play out in front of your eyes on repeat, as you tremble for some reason unknown to you. You look at Kaiser, who is still looking at the floor, where Gabriel is still sitting. He also seems to be tense, but you see him turn in your direction, putting a hand in front of you, as if he is waiting for you to recover. You gulp down a lump of saliva, taking a few steps forward as you grab his hand, a gesture that after that exit from the hotel, has become important to you. You squeeze it, and you feel it reciprocate from his fine fingers. “Go away" Kaiser says, his tone calmer now but still harsh. You watch the scene still shaking a little, but less than before. It was a bad and harsh experience

In this situation and after hearing your current boyfriend's words, you think about how he didn't hesitate to defend you, which is not a given. Michael had no problem putting your ex in his place when he crossed the line, and you realize how much he cares about you, which makes your heart explode. He had no problem being called a whore, but when he said it to you? Oh, he exploded. It does your heart good to think about how now someone finally genuinely loves you

Gabriel stands up hastily, straightening his suit as if nothing had happened. He doesn't dare look at either of you, but breaks this situation as he is about to leave the room, where he turns to you, completely ignoring Kaiser at your side

Gabriel hates you. He hates that you're finally realizing how shitty he's always been to you

Gabriel hates knowing that the old version of you no longer exists, that can no longer subdue you

Gabriel hates you

And you know the shit just started

tag(s): @rroxii ; @kittenish0 ; @bungoustraydogsno1fan (if you want to be tagged tell me!)

[ghostwritermia]

Pairing ~ Remus Lupin x blacksister!reader (slytherin reader)

Word Count ~ 988

Summary ~ With a haunted mind you look for solace in books, when you really needed it from your boyfriend, and he happily gave it to you

Warnings ~ Beginner level writing, angst, mentions of evil Walburga and Orion (they can literally just leave), Remus being a sweetheart, unedited

Note From Mia ~ Second time writing on here....I hope you like it, but I understand if not lmao

You had always been more on the reserved side. Where Sirius had chosen to leave the tortures from 12 Grimmauld Place behind him when the Black Siblings returned to school, you and Regulus had been the opposite.

You couldn’t forget. It wasn’t possible. The horrors you always faced at home haunted you every night, leading into early in the mornings, leaving you restless the rest of the day. The only peace you got was when you could sneak off into the library to bury your nose in whatever book you had your hands on. Whether that was a reread or a completely new genre, it didn’t matter. It was an escape.

So, that is exactly what you were doing now. You had been curled up in an armchair in a secluded corner of the library, reading, for almost an hour now. No distractions. Mind blank. Peace finally washing over you.

Letting out a soft sigh, you flipped the page, getting ready to read another chapter when a shadow loomed over you.

“Hello, Dove,” Remus whispered from above you. “Having a bad day?”

You and Remus had met in the Library on a rainy afternoon, and just sat together in silence while reading. Over time you had started small talk, and that led to conversations, which then led into a friendship, turned secret relationship.

It’s not that you wanted it to stay a secret, however, Remus and you were both scared of backlash from Sirius, and you were terrified of your parents; therefore, they could never find out.

Remus notices that you’re too far, too deep into your book to notice him. To pull you back into the present, he carefully rests a hand on your thigh and rubs gently, coaxing you back into the real world.

You flinch slightly at the contact before looking up to see your boyfriend. “Oh, Rem, hi. How long have you been there?” You ask, shutting your book to give him your undivided attention.

Remus ignores you, smiling gently, not sympathetically though, because he knows by now that you won’t accept it. “What do you need from me, Dovy? To talk?” He’s more than aware that you are not actually going to open up right now, he can see it in your eyes from a mile away.

“Can you just hold me?” You whisper, your words laced with vulnerability. 

Remus’s eyes soften before he shuffles you around, sliding onto the chair behind you, and situating you onto his lap. He doesn’t say anything. He just holds you, gently stroking your hair, occasionally leaving a kiss to the crown of your head. 

When he thinks you're almost asleep, you speak again, “Nothing ever lasts forever, Rem.”

“I know, love. What are you referring to?” He asks, dread filtering into his mind. The lycanthrope has a love-hate relationship with your deep thoughts. Some bring on deep meaningful conversations, whereas others are filled with unnecessary insecurity and doubts.

“Us,” You mutter the exact words that he was dreading.

“No.” Remus says sternly, a tone you rarely hear him use. “I will always love you,” He turns you so you’re sitting sideways in his lap, him making direct eye contact with you, making sure that you hold it. “We’re not doing this, you need to get rid of whatever negative ghosts that are haunting your mind, because we are not breaking up. If I need to help chase those ghosts away, then so be it, but you cannot let them dictate our relationship. Ours, not theirs.”

You nod, burying your head into his neck, breathing in the calming scent of cocoa and old books, mixed with a hint of pine. 

“I want to hear you say it,” He whispers, nudging you with his shoulder.

You lift your head from the crook of his neck and smile weakly. “Ours, not the ghosts.”

“Exactly right, Dove.”

Remus leans in and gently presses his lips to yours, and you reciprocate before he leans back, pulling you into his chest. “I love you,” He whispers, again, knowing you needed reassurance. “And I always will.” 

You nod, “I love you, forever and always.” It comes out in a whisper, but Remus hears it anyway and presses his forehead against yours, but not before pressing a kiss to your nose.

He slowly reaches up and presses the pads of his thumbs where he knows your dimples are and where he knows they should be right now. “Can you smile for me, Love?”

And you do. Because you love him, more than you thought you were ever capable of. You smile crookedly, showing Remus that it is indeed a true smile, and he leaves a kiss on both dimples before pulling away and smiling back at you.

You bring your own thumbs to his face, rubbing gently over the hundreds of freckles scattered along his face.

He kisses you gently once more before grabbing your book, “Now, what were we reading before I interrupted?” He questions teasingly. 

“Well, I was reading that,” You admit sheepishly, pulling out a quill and ink container from your bag.

“The Wonderful Wizard of Oz?” Remus raises a teasing brow.

“Oh hush,” You shove his shoulder. “I was in the mood for something different and it was in the muggle book section. It seemed interesting.” 

“No judgment from me then, Dove.” He whispers, opening the book at your marked spot.

And that is exactly how you and Remus spend the rest of your day. Him reading to you, and you drawing thin vines, small flowers, and a variety of constellations on his various scars while you listen to his soothing voice tell the story of a girl with a dog that somehow got sucked into a tornado and transported into the world of Oz. It didn’t make sense to you, but Remus was reading it, and that was all that seemed to matter to you at that very moment.

[lloydfrontera]

okay hold on shut up everyone shut up i have something to say

so it should be no news that i think the ending is bullshit. i think it's cheap as fuck that the solution to the resolution of fate is that lloyd came back in a different body and therefore the world had no problem with him coming back despite being previously hellbent on not allowing him to remain in it because of his status as a protagonist. like. i think that makes little to no sense and i think it's stupid. what do you mean fate is faceblind. that's the same fucking guy it's been trying to kill for almost five years now just because he now looks korean doesn't change that he's the one that disrupted the flow of the plot so hard he turned into an unauthorized main character. i think it's cheap and stupid and not that good of an explanation.

HOWEVER

i was just thinking about how it kinda sucked that the way the ending is structured means that javier was never really freed from the narrative. like yes his tragic fate changed and he's no longer beholden to the original plot of tkobai but he's still very much the protagonist. lloyd dying didn't free him from that role, it just meant that javier was now the only main character in the world and so fate was no longer gunning for him or his loved ones. but then i went and reread the way the jewel of truth described what would happen once one of them died and let the other as the sole protagonist.

[Once one of you disappears, the world will finally choose the remaining person as the rightful protagonist and perceive there to be no more error to fix. That is only when the incomplete reset plan to carry put the restoration of destiny will come to a halt and the story will develop around the existing hero.] -Ch 328: You or Me (3)

that last bit. the story will develop around the existing hero. once one of them disappeared fate would give up with the original story and just make a new one around the one protagonist that remained. which by the end of tged is javier.

javier. javier whose main priority at some point shifted towards keeping lloyd safe. whose main goal became keeping lloyd alive at almost any cost. this javier:

There was no more sign of life from the mischievous smile on the face of his lord. The young master he had sworn to serve breathed his last as his head dropped. He had died. "... No way." This wasn't supposed to happen. Javier was in disbelief. He refused to believe what he saw. This was not the ending he had desired. -Ch 398: Last Resort (3)

I never, ever thought once about life without Master Lloyd, not even right now. -Ch 400: Farewell (2)

this javier is the one the story is meant to develop around now that he's the only protagonist in the world. this javier is the one the plot is meant to be built around.

do you understand where i'm getting at

i think that it was javier's status as protagonist that allowed lloyd to come back without getting backlash from fate anymore. i think javier's resolve to keep lloyd safe, to have a life at his side, was what allowed destiny to accept lloyd back into a world that had rejected him before. i think that when the story tried to develop around javier "i never thought of a life without lloyd" asrahan it couldn't do it in a way that didn't include lloyd in it and so lloyd was allowed to come back without fate retaliating against him.

javier was the one that accidentally brought lloyd into his world, he was the one that purposefully brought him back to it and he was the one that unconsciously allowed him to remain in it. he's literally the reason that lloyd is there at all in any capacity.

do you get what i'm saying. i feel like i'm going crazy.

[justwinginglife]

Picture Perfect

25 Days of Simpmas: Day Nine December 9th: Ryunosuke Akutagawa, Rank 17 Anime: Bungo Stray Dogs Event Masterlist

“I’m not entirely sure what a date is.” Akutugawa admitted. 

You bit back a smile. Here you were, surrounded by thousands of twinkling lights (lights that he had put up), with rose petals resting at your feet (that he had scattered across the floor) and the soft sound of a violin riding the gentle breeze (courtesy of a musician that he had hand picked), and he was telling you that he didn’t know what a date was. How could he not know that he’d literally gotten everything perfect?

“You know, I’m starting to think I’m not exactly sure what a date is either, if this isn’t what it’s meant to look like.” You laughed, gesturing to all the grand decor. “You really went all out.”

He lowered his head slightly. “I…apologize. Is it too much? Shall we reconvene at a later date when I’ve had more time to…research?”

You shook your head, reaching over to rest your hand on top of his. “No, silly. Everything is so perfect, it’d be such a waste to end the night now.”

He blinked. “It’s… perfect?” Sure, he’d looked up on the internet how to properly set up a date, but he was in no way sure that he’d done any of it right, let alone perfectly. 

You squeezed his hand. “Absolutely perfect. I’m already looking forward to our next one.”

A rosy red settled within his cheeks upon hearing your words. “Our… next one? You’d… you’d go on another with me?”

You smiled at him fondly. “I’d go on as many as you want, as many as you’d have me for.”

He’d take you up on that. He’d definitely take you up on that. When you’d first asked him out, the second the words left your mouth, Akutagawa was already immediately imagining a million things, a mile a minute. Could he see himself still dating you in one month, in six months, in one year, in six years, in one decade, in six decades? He pictured what your relationship might look like. 

A couple months from now, he’d probably take you to some pumpkin patch- he’d heard those were popular fall dates. Buy you some apple cider. Get “lost” with you in a corn maze. Maybe even steal a kiss if he was bold enough, warm your lips with his. 

Then he pictured himself dating you in a couple years. Maybe you’d move in, maybe not. Either way, your things would be littered all across his apartment as a constant reminder of your continued affection for him. It wouldn’t matter if you were living with him or not, he’d see you so frequently anyway. He’d welcome you home, or you’d welcome him- he wasn’t sure which was better. By then, you’d already be accustomed to each other’s habits and maybe he’d play with your hair while you reread your favorite book for the tenth time. Maybe by then, he would’ve read your favorite book too, purely out of curiosity for the things you held dear, and then he’d get to peer over your shoulder and point to a paragraph on the page, telling you that was his favorite part. Then he’d kiss the back of your head and he’d let you go back to reading your book in his lap. 

By then, he was sure he’d also already have the complete respect of both of your parents and could therefore ask for their blessing to marry you.

And then he’d take you to some special spot to pop the question; maybe it was the place you first met, maybe it was a place the two of you frequented, or maybe it was the place you had your first date. So, of course, now he had to plan your first date. You’d been the one to ask him to go out, but if he was going to be the one to ask you to marry him, then he had to get it right from the very beginning. 

He never would’ve been able to envision the future so clearly if it’d been anyone but you.

But it was you.

And you said everything was perfect.

So he trusted you. He believed you. 

His nerves eased throughout the night as you continued to warm his heart. He’d already gotten to know you fairly well from working closely together in the Port Mafia, but he was relishing the chance to get to know you tonight in a way that he’d never known you, in a way that no one had ever known you. He listened to you talk about your plans for tomorrow, for a year from now, for ten years from now, and he hoped when you spoke, that you pictured him in that future of yours. He wondered if it was anything like the future he pictured with you. When he pictured having boys with you, did you picture having girls? When he pictured living in the city, did you picture the country? Or did you not picture him at all? He was getting ahead of himself; he knew he was. 

But the way you leaned across the table, the way you laughed at yourself before deciding to impart some of your secrets to him, the way you continued to laugh when his eyes widened, and the way you pressed a finger to his lips, swearing him to secrecy like it was some precious pact that only two people this close to each other could partake in, well- it made him feel like maybe it was okay to want you, maybe even to need you. Maybe he already needed you.

“You don’t have to let me talk all day, you know.” You interrupted his train of thought. 

He straightened. “And what gives you the idea that I mind hearing you talk?”

You laughed softly. “Nothing, silly. But I like hearing you talk too. So tell me. What’s going on with Ryu these days?”

Upon hearing your little nickname for him, he turned his face to the side slightly, hoping to hide the tiny twitch in his brow and the faintest flush in his cheeks. When he finally did speak, it was honest but simple. Work was the same. Life was the same. Progress with Dazai was, regrettably, still the same. When he mentioned Dazai, his gaze drifted downwards, in supposed nonchalance, but he knew that every time he mentioned Dazai, he found it hard to stop mentioning Dazai, and every time he mentioned Dazai, others found it hard to want to be around him. But when he finally swallowed his pride, daring to peek up at you again, you smiled that same encouraging smile.

“How is he doing by the way, Dazai?”

And then the floodgates opened.

Dazai was great. Maybe a little too great. But it was fine that he was great. Akutagawa was doing great, it was only fair for Dazai to be doing great. He wondered if Dazai knew he was doing great. But Dazai was busy. But it was okay, Akutagawa was busy. He’d been getting stronger. Getting better. He’d been using the training techniques Dazai taught him when he was in the Mafia. Boy, when Dazai was in the Mafia…

And suddenly Akutagawa was telling you everything and he had no idea why. No. He knew why. Because you listened. Because you cared. Because you were you. Because you’d gasp and say, “No way!” or you’d giggle and say, “That’s just like you,” or you’d roll your eyes and say, “Atsushi did NOT!”

Because he was in love with you.

And when he was with you, everything was easy. Talking was easy, relaxing was easy, living was easy. Wanting to live was easy. Picturing his future was easy. 

So even when the date came to its end and -ironically- Dazai called him out of the blue, Akutagawa merely shoved his buzzing phone down deep into his pocket and when you raised a brow, questioning his actions, and telling him reassuringly that you would be fine from here and he was free to pick up the call, he simply shook his head and said he’d rather walk you home than talk to Dazai. 

And when he worked up the nerve to steal your hand from your side as the two of you walked, and when you blushed but then gave his hand a giddy, little squeeze and held on tight to it the rest of the way back, he imagined that maybe stealing a kiss in a pumpkin patch in a couple of months wouldn’t be so hard after all. Maybe it wouldn’t be a couple months. Maybe it’d be now. And maybe a couple years would fly by, if it was with you. Maybe a couple decades, maybe a whole lifetime. 

Dazai had given him a reason to live, but you were always his reason to keep living.

Taglist: @pixelcafe-network @minasfwoopyponytail @ouiouimochi @inkytypewriter

[queenlua]

your post about adding excitement to a story by increasing the pressure on a character was not something i’d heard before and i found it super useful. are there any other pieces of writing advice you find foundational and would be willing to share?

glad you found that tidbit helpful!

first, i’ll give my default caveat of “i’m just some guy on the internet, so take this with however many grains of salt you need”

plus my general caveat on… all writing tips/tidbits/advice? which is:

i find that, past the basics of “knowing about exposition/rising action/climax/denouement” and such, most writing advice ends up operating as a dusty old toolbox i open up now and again.  something in my story's not working; i’m not sure how to fix it; i pull out my little toolbox of tidbits i’ve accumulated over the years and see if any of the screwdrivers and wrenches in there actually fit.  the kinds of tidbits that are useful for me may be ACTIVELY DETRIMENTAL to someone else; someone who chronically overtightens their screws probably shouldn’t be told “have you tried tightening the screws more :D;;;;” or whatever.  and in particular what works for me is probably oriented towards genre-y stuff.

BUT, Y’KNOW, GIVEN ALL THAT

here’s the tidbits i find myself returning to over & over!

* three is a very powerful number.  i have a tendency to write myself into situations where you have Two Interesting Characters Doing Verbal Head-Games With Each Other, and that stuff can be tremendously fun, but it tends to run out of steam very quickly.  adding a third character to the scene combinatorially increases the dynamics available for you to play with.  so if you’re stuck, throw someone else in there.  (relatedly this is why awful dinner parties are Peak Literature™)

* if you’re writing a romance: put a sticky note on your monitor that says “WHY CAN’T THEY BE TOGETHER NOW?”  if at any point you don’t have a good answer to that, you’ve fucked up; rework the plot.

* this is a shlocky tidbit from the South Park creators that totally works: list all the scenes in your story, and then, between each scene, see if they are connected by THEREFORE or BUT versus AND THEN.

so., e.g., “the ocean levels in Tellius are rising, THEREFORE kilvas wants to migrate from their sinking islands and onto Serenes, BUT Reyson is opposed to that move, THEREFORE…”

that gives you a stronger structure than, like, idk, “the war ends AND THEN kilvas moves to Serenes AND THEN Reyson and Naesala get in a fight…”

you want it to be mostly “THEREFORE/BUT” and very few “AND THEN”s.  just a tighter overall plot structure

* each scene should accomplish at least two things.  the most common two things for a scene to do are “advance the plot” and “develop a character”; i have a hazy memory that when i first read this advice, there was a list of, like, 1-3 other things a scene’s allowed to accomplish?  but i cannot REMEMBER that list, lol.  but use your imagination; i’m sure you can think of another valid thing.

i think this is more useful as debugging/editing advice than upfront advice—often, when you’re writing something, every scene will *feel* necessary, but upon reread, you’ll notice your attention is drifting, this doesn’t quite feel tight enough… and you’ll realize, oh, ugh, i just had three scenes in a row that existed Solely To Hit A Plot Beat; why don’t i combine those three scenes into one, condense the action, and also make sure a character’s doing something actually interesting/new while i’m at it.

(i think i see this plaguing a lot of novels that come out of nanowrimo in particular.  i mean, not me, because i don’t have the fast-twitch muscle required to do nanowrimo, but when i read other people’s nanowrimo stuff, it often feels like it was galloping through a bunch of plot beats without bothering to do anything else interesting.)

* if you're stuck on a particular scene/chapter, stuff to try:

delete the current sentence and start over

delete the current paragraph and start over

change the font and reread what you've got so far

open the document on a different screen and reread what you've got so far

print the thing out and reread what you've got so far

open a brand new document and rewrite the whole scene/chapter/etc from the start (NO PEEKING AT THE ORIGINAL VERSION)

go outside and look at a bird for a bit

take a nap

shoot a whiny discord message to a friend about it (even if it's solely rubber ducking, this can be helpful) (though if you have any friends who are good at writing AND ALSO willing to put up with your shit and offer helpful feedback AND ALSO you're not too mortified by your writing dilemma to share it with them, that's even better) (btw, any friends reading this: if you want to opt-in to messages like this from me, LET ME KNOW lmao, i'm really shy on this front!)

if you're DESPERATE: open a new document and just write out, like, "Character X wants Y. Character Z wants Q. These are the sources of pressure on character X. These are the sources of pressure on character Y. I want R to happen but I feel stuck because of M" and so on, just... really trying to dissect what the scene's trying to accomplish? most often, the outcome of this is, i'll notice in that "thinking aloud" document that i'm circling around some central question that I Don't Know The Answer To, and i need to answer that question to usefully proceed. sometimes this will be painfully obvious in hindsight. (e.g., sometimes you'll go back to your outline and you'll realize you've literally just hit the bullet point that says UGH OKAY THEY GET TOGETHER SOMEHOW I'LL FIGURE THIS OUT LATER, and you're like, ugh, fuck, it's now later, why is past-me such a bitch!) but them's the breaks. (in particular, i remember getting catastrophically stuck on a "meet the parents" story until i realized i was... avoiding actually writing out the "meet the parents" scene... which feels "well duh" in hindsight! but, like, hey, in order to write that scene, i needed to commit to some specific decisions on What The Story Was About, the same way artists gotta eventually erase a bunch of sketchy lines to commit to the Lines They Will Actually Be Inking, and that decision point feels hard and scary and no wonder i waffled lol)

okay so that's all the super-specific-concrete advice. here's some stuff that's more big-picture but i've still found personally useful:

* i once went to a talk where a novelist said she doesn't start writing a novel until she knows exactly what she wants it to look like on the bookshelf. as in: is it a schlocky trade paperback or is it a beautiful hardcover thing with fancy paper? does it have IMPACT FONT for the title or something handwriting-y? how many pages is it? and so on.

in service of this aim, she never writes any of the novel (no notes, no outlines, no snippets of dialogue, nothing) until she has that image vividly in her mind + she can't physically STAND not writing it any longer. for her, this process allows her to be sure that she knows what her novel is about—not necessarily in every single detail or plot beat (though, often she has a lot of that in mind before starting), but in terms of "what am i trying to say," "how do i want the world to look at it," etc, and she's found through hard experience that, while it's easy for her to start novels, it's often hard for her to finish them unless she has that crystal-clear image in her mind.

i can’t quite do her purity-of-method (my brain is scrambled eggs; i HAVE to write down snatches of dialogue and such before i get started on something or it all leaks out of my ears), but i see a lot of wisdom in it.  i do a lot of prewriting & thinking & scribbling out little snatches of dialogue and such before i really begin writing. i think everyone develops their own little heuristic for when they can be reasonably confident they know what their story is about, so you should try and figure out what that heuristic is for you & learn to trust it if you can? (a common one you hear a lot is "i have to know how the story ends / what the ending feels like," which makes sense; endings usually have a lot to do with what a story is About. i know NK Jemisin mentioned once she can't really start until she's nailed down the voice, and that also makes sense to me—you read The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms and it's very clear that her choice of voice is a large part of what drives the story, it has a propulsive force of its own; it's The Thing that blasts the whole thing open for her. for me, i'm not sure i have a tidy heuristic, but there's a point where i've written enough snatches of dialogue plus bits of scenes that i've unlocked some core thing that i'm really excited about—i keep spinning out bits of dialogue and setting and such that are related to that thing, i'm so excited to see how that thing plays out across the story, i look at my outline and see only possibilities and wonder instead of connective tissue that needs to be filled in... and then, yeah, i'll know i'm cooking, but not one second before!)

note that the story is allowed to surprise me & change on me once i get properly started—my longfic changed substantially when i realized Reyson’s perspective needed a LOT more room to breathe than i had accounted for in the outline, and then changed substantially again when i realized the butterfly-effect-style implications that keeping Leanne around had for my entire storyline—the ending wound up being TOTALLY different than what i'd originally planned!—but like, in that case, i don't think my sense of what the story was about ever fundamentally changed; i just added two more huge elements that orbited that about-ness. if that makes sense.

* i think about this passage from Bayles & Orland's Art and Fear a lot. i'm actually not sure that advice is helpful for literally everyone—i do see people who somehow manage to write the same fucking thing over and over, for years and years, and never seem to develop their craft or make any movement toward saying something interesting.

but i do think most people are developing something even when it feels like "the same thing over and over," and as someone who probably tends toward too little output, i found it a useful reminder that returning to familiar forms, themes, and characters across pieces is intensely useful if it gets you in front of the keyboard again, so don't stress over novelty too much. (i find, if i'm still returning to a particular form/theme/character, it's because i feel like i still have some interesting new perspective on it that's genuinely worth exploring. if i have actually exhausted a topic, i'll know it because i myself will get bored, but anyone else's opinion is irrelevant!)

* ursula k le guin's steering the craft is more focused on craft & nuts n bolts than plot-debugging-type-things but i thought i'd give it a shout-out here because i've just found it so perpetually useful over the years. in particular we could all stand to read our stuff aloud more often; that fixes a lot of problems and she goes on about that in detail in chapter 1 haha

* oh, also, re: my "put more pressure on the characters" advice—you've probably already intuited this, but i think i found that framing more useful than the kinds of "raise the stakes / make sure every character has Stakes / Wants Something" advice you're likely to find in screenwriting workshops, because this framing feels like a more... abstract... way of talking about the same thing?

like, often those two types of advice are addressing the same problem, but when i start off thinking about "where is the pressure on these characters," i don't just have to think "time to heap more pressure on them," i can also, like. observe. where the pressure points in my work are. i'm not presupposing a solution. maybe there's a ton of pressure but it's the wrong kind of pressure. maybe there's a ton of pressure but there's nowhere satisfying for that pressure to go. it's very woo/fuzzy but yeah i use the general principle of "pressure" to frame a LOT of how i think about story construction; maybe that'll be useful to you!

* FINALLY, i don't have a nice packaged heuristic/tidbit/tool-shaped thing for this one yet, but i've been thinking a lot about how much perspective really Changes Everything about a work. your choice of PoV should be exceedingly deliberate; you should be taking maximum advantage of your choice of PoV at all times (what do they know? what don't they know? how do they think about the world? etc); also if you're editing something and you're noticing a lot of unconscious perspective breaks, that's a warning sign something's going badly wrong in how you're approaching the story overall—perspective should just be unconsciously correct if you're hitting stuff right imo

OK WOW SORRY THAT GOT SO LONG but hope at least one of these lil bullets are useful for ya! happy writing~