#which a lot of these characters need to or needed to do
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juniemunie · 1 day ago
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ok im not sure if i can put this into right words which is why i took so long to respond but i see it a little like this:
a friend told me that GOTNF to them was like a promise to the audience that they wouldnt go with "a bunch of cheap, annoying, marketable tropes and cliches" and yea they're right.... and then THW happened
they wanted to try the whole "what if we gave toothless his independence? what if the dragons had to leave? how would hiccup handle being separated with toothless? how would berk feel and handle themselves living without the dragons?" the whole shebang but twisted everything about it it to end up like... *gestures to all of THW* that.
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THE SHIT (GOLD) YOU FIND IN THE OCEAN (YOUTUBE COMMENT’S SECTION)
#they wanted hiccup to get some character development to grow and fully mature in the final movie.#with those issues above re explored again they could work with it to grow hiccup's character#for some reason they concluded that the best way to show that maturity with those problems is for hiccup and toothless to separate#get married and not need each other anymore... permanently. like what#which i'm mostly assuming is because of them being so tunnel visioned on the ending of having to remove the dragons at the end of the movie#the reexploration/usage of the stuff touched upon by GOTNF aint bad per se they just screwed it all up by going back against the core theme#hence my delulu fix-it thoughts#If they went through with the og GOTNF idea toothless would indeed appear to do it out of guilt#the short would still be memorable and heartwarming but it also sets up an idea that can be further explored or clarified#What direction they take it from there is up to them.. which would probably just lead to THW if they keep the tunnel vision ending#if they got rid of the forced ending i'd have a lot to say on what i think should happen instead#but regardless of how varied the story's new events are#if they kept true to the core themes then it would always be as you said#toothless would choose to stay in the end.#They could survive without each other. They just don't want to.#Together they are better. They are the lighthouse of each other's universe. They cant truly live without the other.#that will always remain true to me#anyways these are just my thoughts marinating#ive had this sitting in my drafts for way too long cuz idk if this makes sense thats all ive got to say asdfjgbdfklbgslda
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epickiya722 · 2 days ago
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Okay, even after seeing a more clearer fan translated of the epilogue, I still don't see the panic of "Yuji and Yuko are dating, oh my gosh, heartbroken Megumi"! Like, my mind isn't changing from what I said before in another post.
Yuko is still pining, Yuji is too busy wanting to build a snowman and going to go whatever about the old Itadori residence and most likely will be returning to Tokyo to continue being a sorcerer.
Like, I get it a little angst is entertaining and all that. But nowadays, I do feel like now people deliberately just want it in canon to be mad and upset about something.
I'm telling you as an Itafushi/Fushiita shipper myself, I don't see Yuko as a threat here. Like, barely. I'm not saying any of this out of denial. I don't live in Egypt, so I'm no where near denial.
I'm saying this as someone who actually had gotten tired of people needing canon to ship something, freak out over like nothing, not opening their eyes and maybe looking at a story another way, and so on.
People are acting like Yuji right immediately after the epilogue a second later is going to ask her out. How is he, someone who never expressed interest in dating at all before, going to ask out a girl that he barely even knows? He knows dhe exists, but ask him her favorite color he won't know the answer. He just knows how the girl eats, how she writes and she's thoughtful.
At best, it was a cute epilogue but not something to panic over. You're not forced to stop shipping Itafushi and start shipping the other ship.
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always-just-red · 2 days ago
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Merry Christmas, guys!!! Ok, so this is a day early, but I wanted to say thanks to you all with a feel-good follow-up to my Game Night fic! So, here: a Christmas Eve sleepover with the boys, and they’re on their VERY best behaviour this time, I promise 😌
The Night Before Christmas
L&DS Boys X Reader
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(Recommended to read this fic first, if you haven't already!)
Summary: It’s time to get the gang back together!!!
Genre: Fluff + humour
Warnings/Additional Tags: gn!reader, kinda poly? but mostly platonic, a lil bit of wholesome intimacy, one particularly suggestive joke from Sylus (he can’t help himself), also probably needs another proofread but my eyes are tired 💀
| Word count: 4.8k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!
Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!
“Right! Let’s try this again.”
You glance around your living room with your hands on your hips, channelling your inner Captain Jenna as you fight to suppress flashbacks that verge on traumatic.
Some of this is exactly the same as last time. Sylus is sprawled in the same spot on your couch, looking inordinately pleased with himself for someone who has only just arrived. The very image of smugness; you immediately suspect that something is horribly wrong, or on track to go horribly wrong. You glance to the other couch, where Xavier and Rafayel sit, equally braced for your presentation. Neither one has been teleported to the roof of your building.
Sylus is reading your relief, and he gives you an exclusive smile, as if to say: yet.
Try not to think about it.
You stand by a large drawing pad— currently flipped closed to create a suspense that only Xavier has bought into. He gives you an eager nod, the blue of his eyes warm and encouraging.
The faces around you haven’t changed, but your little apartment has. Strings of twinkling lights run around your walls, casting faint, festive glows. There’s frost on your windows. Littered everywhere are ornaments: small, glittery birds and wintery creatures. Lots of snowman plushies, courtesy of a few, dedicated arcade expeditions with your favourite doctor.
New season, new start.
“We all remember how this went last time,” you push on finally. “Mistakes were made. Shit happened. Whatever— we’re not gonna dwell on it.”
Sylus lifts his hand. “I, for one, would enjoy a reminder of said mistakes.”
“Motion denied,” you dismiss with a grin and a customer-service enthusiasm that screams: don’t fuck with me right now. Sylus’s eyes sparkle, like embers anxious to become something brighter— more destructive. Don’t think about it. “It wasn’t my fault. You outnumbered me four-to-one that night, which is why my first order of business today is to appoint a co-host.”
Rafayel’s hand shoots into the air. You look at him incredulously. Zayne is stood beside you, his arms folded, and everyone else in the room has connected those particular dots.
“It’s Zayne, Rafayel,” you sigh. 
“What?!” He sits up straighter. “Why him?! What are his qualifications, huh? His credentials?”
“I’ve never set the kitchen on fire,” Zayne says.
The artist scoffs, adds under his breath: “Turned it into an ice rink, though.”
There’s a chuckle from Sylus, and a part of you feels bad, pitting Zayne against the others like this. But he’s not alone. He has you, just you, so you should probably do something. “That actually brings me really nicely to my next point, Raf, thank you.”
Unexpected praise. Rafayel stutters, a faint blush to his cheeks, and you take full advantage of having staggered him. “Zayne, do you wanna…?”
“Of course.” The dark-haired man adjusts his glasses, then addresses the rest of the room. “In the interest of everyone’s safety, we have devised a few rules to be adhered to for the rest of the evening. These will be enforced by a point system, which we will record… here.”
He flips the drawing pad open, and a blank table fills the top half of the page. Each quarter has been assigned a name. “Basically—” you gesture to it— “three strikes and you’re out.”
None of your guests look perturbed by this.
“The first rule is simple,” Zayne explains, pulling away a strip of paper from the bottom of the page, then reading the writing underneath: “No unauthorised use of Evols.”
Rafayel’s hand shoots up again. You tilt your head at it. “Yes, Raf?”
“Ok, so what if there’s a power-cut or something? Lights are out. Heating’s out. Big disaster, yeah? You’re saying I couldn’t—?” He clicks his fingers, spawning a small flame.
“We would use my Evol,” Xavier says with the gentle authority he uses to steer civilians away from a Wanderer incursion. “It’s safer.”
The flame is snuffed out. Rafayel huffs: “Don’t you use it to, like, kill things?”
“Yeah…” Xavier shrugs. “Bad things.”
“Second rule!” you chime.  
“Second rule,” Zayne echoes, peeling back the next strip of paper. There’s absolutely no showmanship, nor energy at all as he continues, “No unauthorised sarcasm.”
Another hand raises. “What would be authorised sarcasm?” Xavier asks, squinting as though he can’t quite figure it out on his own.
You purse your lips in thought. “If it makes me laugh?”
Rafayel is stroking his chin, his eyes narrowed, because he’s also thinking. “High risk, high reward,” he muses, and you shoot him a smile.
This is going better than you thought it would, actually. If you were to turn a few more pages of the drawing pad, you would see crude illustrations of the worst-case scenarios you’d sketched out for Zayne earlier. There’s one where Rafayel is trying to strangle Sylus with Christmas lights. There’s another where Zayne has turned you all into snowmen.
Don’t get ahead of yourself, though. The evening is young, and the snowman scenario is still very much on the table.
Culprit of about ninety percent of your nightmarish visions and drawings— Sylus has been unnervingly silent. You meet eyes with him, an inherent mistrust in your gaze. The success of this sweet, humble Christmas Eve hinges on you figuring out what he’s here for. His agenda. His ulterior motives.
What does he want from tonight? He smirks at you. You’re vaguely competent, and you can figure it out without him holding your hand, can’t you?
That reminds you of something. “Zayne.” You jostle your co-host by his arm. “Do the last rule!”
You’re excited about the last rule.
Zayne isn’t; he hesitates. “The last rule…” He rubs at the back of his neck. “It’s… it’s only applicable to you, Sylus.”
Sylus is now also excited about the last rule. You can tell from the way his lips part, for a second, like he wants to tell you just how flattered he is you spend so much of your time thinking about him.
You put Zayne out of his misery, tearing the final strip of paper away from the pad. The paper flutters to the ground like a very plain snowflake, and you wiggle your fingers, adorning the final rule with a touch of pizazz:
No smirking, sass, or general smugness.
A corner of Sylus’s mouth lifts. “Believe it or not, kitten, your little point system doesn’t scare me.”
You pick up the pen and score a mark under his name.
“Oh no,” he mutters lifelessly.
“Sarcasm!” Rafayel coughs.
You’re well ahead of him, already turning to make another mark. “Gods,” you hear Sylus grimace, not much more than a whisper, “you’re such a boy scout.”
There’s a snort from Rafayel. “Sorry, say that again? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of you totally getting kicked out of here.”
“Sarcasm,” Sylus says.
“Wait, I didn’t mean— no!”
You giggle as you issue Rafayel’s first strike, and he groans behind you, slumping down in his seat. When you turn back around, his face is buried in his hands.
Sylus is smirking again, but the expression drops the moment he senses your gaze. You both know what’s at stake here. Back in the N109 Zone, Luke and Kieran are lamenting the fact that you’ve stolen their leader— it’s not very Christmassy of you, after all. There were a lot of things they wanted to do with him. Snowball fights, presents, and a heist that required disguises: Santa and his two, hard-working elves. They already have the suit, custom-made for him.
So here is the big, bad boss of Onychinus, hiding in your apartment, and definitely not smirking.
You pop the lid back onto your pen, then post it into your pocket like you’re holstering an all-powerful weapon. That’s one point to you and Zayne, and zero points to Sylus, thank you very much.
“What are you doing?”
Sylus sighs, evading a furious lilac gaze while he focuses on the task at hand. Freshly escaped from you and the doctor’s terrifying lecture, he’s making the most of his liberty.
“What I am doing,” he mumbles, tying string around a sprig of mistletoe, “is between me and our charming host. Run along, little artist.” He tightens the knot. “This doesn’t concern you.”
Rafayel crosses his arms, his eyes dark. “You’re cheating.”
“Ha.” Sylus spares him a glance out of pity. “You’re jealous.”
“Am not.”
He definitely is, but Sylus doesn’t have time for this game. He can hear you in your bedroom, rooting around for the phone charger you’d vanished in search of. Your door isn’t closed, but it’s closed enough. You can’t see him. He can’t see you. What a perfect opportunity.
“Give it to me,” Rafayel says— an interruption that warrants a roll of the eyes.
“No.”
“Give it—“ the artist starts again, then makes a grab for the mistletoe. Now that’s jealousy. He could incinerate the plant with a click of his fingers, but no, he wants it. Covets it.
Sylus chuckles quietly, his arm stretching up: holding the mistletoe out of an ever-more desperate reach.
To Rafayel’s credit, he persists. He goes up on his toes, tugging at the older man’s sleeve to try and drag the mistletoe closer. The plant evaporates in a swirl of dark energy the second he succeeds. It materialises behind Sylus’s back, in his other hand, and Rafayel realises instantly. He tries to stretch his arms around him. To take it from him.
“Absolutely not!”
Sylus’s fingers are suddenly empty. Mistletoe-less. He turns reluctantly, still holding Rafayel back.
You stand at your wide-open door, one hand on your hips and the other clutching his confiscated item. You’re frowning. Tapping your foot. Your lips are pursed adorably.
“What a coincidence, kitten,” Sylus smiles, and behind him, Rafayel pokes his tongue out, overcome with nausea. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Clearly.” You jostle the mistletoe, looking… disappointed? Huh. “Never thought I’d catch you indulging an old cliche.”
Sylus shrugs charmingly, like a cat performing a leisurely stretch after toppling a vase from a very high shelf.
“Give me the rest of it,” you command.
“Hmm?”
“The back-up mistletoe, Sy. I’m not an idiot.”
Sylus scoffs, but you do have him wrapped oh so prettily around your finger. He rolls his neck, stalling. If giving up were a slope, he would already be a heap at the bottom of it, but he doesn’t really mind. Three more sprigs of mistletoe appear from thin air, dropping into your open hands.
“Honestly, Sylus,” you groan, stepping past him. Then you thrust the plants to the artist’s chest. “Burn these, Raf.” You’re dusting your hands down as you walk away.
Sylus frowns. That’s neither ideal nor part of the plan.
Rafayel is looking at him, telling him with gloating silence that there’s no playing diplomat, here— no negotiating the return of the hostages. That bridge has been— rather fittingly— burned. The mistletoe turns slowly to ash: darkened by licks of flame that curl with the eager spite of their master’s lips.
It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so damned inconvenient. When the fire’s had its fun, one sprig of mistletoe remains, rich green and ivory— wholly untouched. You’re across the room, talking to Zayne, so Rafayel smirks in triumph. Tucks his prize into his pocket.
Sylus’s heart sinks with it, but he still smiles back.
Rafayel isn’t looking too good.
Well, the Rafayel is looking fine, but your Rafayel? Not so much. You steal a glance at the artist across the cluttered kitchen island; he’s sat, leaning, propped up on his elbows, his eyes glazed— he’s clearly away with the fishies. He catches you staring. Gives you a wink.
You glance down at the gingerbread man you’ve been decorating: the blue-pink of his iced eyes, and the mess of purple hair, at least three shades too dark. Oh, gods— probably a million shades too dark through the gaze of a Lemurian. At least the outfit is cute? You’ve recreated Rafayel’s signature cardigan. The plaid pattern isn’t quite straight, but that was a… deliberate choice. This is your interpretation of his cardigan, and you wanted it to reflect its owner. A little all over the place, but still, you love it. Even when it’s coming undone, it keeps you warm.
“Would you like to go next?”
Zayne is talking to you, smiling at you. He was the first to reveal his gingerbread creation: a miniature Xavier that was surprisingly true to life. Your hunting partner had almost glowed with delight, while you were dark with jealousy. The biscuit sits before you all, boasting details that could only be achieved with an exceedingly steady hand.
Worse: Rafayel’s gingerbread is next to it, stupidly, predictably perfect. It’s Zayne. It’s really Zayne, from the sweep of black hair to the hazel eyes; how on earth did he manage to make that colour? The tiny doctor is dressed in his lab coat, sporting his badge and a pocketful of even tinier pens and medical instruments. There’s… shading? Ugh, you can see the creases in the fabric.
“Umm… sure, I can go next,” you mumble.
It was just your luck, pulling Rafayel’s name out of that hat. Sheepishly, you move aside the cookbook you’d stood to guard your project from any prying eyes. Your gingerbread is nudged forwards.
“That’s me!” Rafayel exclaims.
“Yeah…” you confirm half-heartedly. “Sorry, I know it’s not great, but I—”
Lack the skill of a celebrity artist, or the steady hands of a cardiac surgeon? You have no idea which exact pool of self-pity your sentence was set on drowning within, but it doesn’t matter. Rafayel has plucked your gingerbread up for a closer look, and his smile is enormous. “This is amazing!”
“You don’t have to—”
“That’s my cardigan!” He’s crashing the pity party again. “And look at my eyes— the colours! This little guy is so handsome, yeah? You really did me justice, cutie. Look at him!”
He holds the gingerbread up to his face, trying to match its two-dimensional grin. He looks around for affirmation, and it’s just his luck, because is a single man at this table ever going to insult your hard work?
“The eyes are amazing,” Xavier enthuses. “Like the sky at sunset. Who knew my partner was so talented?”
“I did,” Rafayel chirps happily.
Xavier frowns. “No, it was rhetori— never mind.” He smiles at you. Rolls with it. “I knew too, by the way.”
“As did I,” Zayne adds.
Everyone looks at Sylus, who shrugs a shoulder and says, “It was up for debate.”
“Can we please move onto the next person?” you press. This is all too much attention. “Sylus, can you… please?”
He does like it when you beg, but he likes it even more when he can play knight in shining armour. “My pleasure, sweetie.”
For a man whose creative side is mostly indulged by vintage gun restorations, he reveals his gingerbread with a staggering amount of confidence. It’s placed at the centre of the kitchen island, where you all stare down at it. Its hair is snow-white, and its eyes: blood-red.
“That’s…” Zayne begins.
“That’s you, Sylus!” you take-over, voice shrill with betrayal. “You were supposed to say something if you picked yourself! And you— wait, what are…?” There are distinct lines over the gingerbread’s midriff. It dawns on you: “Are those abs?!”
Sylus shrugs again.
“They so are!” You snatch up the biscuit, standing to wave it in Sylus’s face like a crime-scene photo. “Where’s his shirt, huh?”
“He lost it.”
“Bullshit!” you snap. This gingerbread competition had come with its own set of rules, one of which was very clearly: “Nothing obscene! I said nothing obscene, Sylus!”  
He leans away from you with a tut. “It’s tasteful, sweetie. The artist will tell you.”
“The artist is staying out of this,” Rafayel murmurs, off to your side.
Sylus crosses his arms, regardless, as though his case has been made. You cross your arms too.
“Can I show you my gingerbread now?” Xavier asks, and his tone is deceivingly soft: a hand on your shoulder, pulling you back.
You release the tension in your body with a sigh, then set the gingerbread down so you can’t throw it at Sylus’s un-smug face (which he’s been very careful about.) “Of course, Xavier,” you smile, slinking back onto your stool. You can throw something at Sylus later. “Ooh, is it me? It has to be me, right?”
Xavier chuckles awkwardly. “It’s you. I don’t think it’s very good, though.”
“Show me!” you insist.
The final cookbook is removed, and Xavier unveils his hard work. You clamp a hand to your mouth.
You don’t have a single word for what you’re looking at— only laughter, and you can’t let yourself laugh, no matter what. If that gingerbread is you? Then it’s a you who’s been torn apart by Wanderers, at least seven consecutive times. Your face is a swirl of colours and features— you think Xavier must have tried to wipe it off to start again, more than once, but it hasn’t worked.
The gingerbread has been broken, too. Three of the four limbs, to be exact, and that you could forgive, but… did he have to use dark red icing to glue them back on? It drips out of the joins messily, almost making you wince.
Everyone is silent.
“A perfect likeness,” says Sylus.
You burst out laughing, and the moment you do, Rafayel’s right there with you. Even Sylus caves— it’s one of the most sincere laughs you’ve ever heard from him. There are tears in your eyes; you can’t help it. Zayne is the strongest of you, but even the tight line of his mouth quivers. He’s biting his lip.
But it’s fine. Xavier is laughing, too. “I said it wasn’t very good!”
“Xavier!” you wheeze. You can’t even look at him. Your stomach hurts. “What… what happened to me?!”
“What do you mean?” he practically giggles.
“What do I mean?” you repeat, and it tips you into another breathless bout of laughter. You go to point at the gingerbread— all the explanation you need— but it almost kills you. You really can’t breathe. After half a minute, you try again. “I look like I’ve been in an accident!”
“Here,” Rafayel grins, and he slides the Doctor Zayne gingerbread over to poor, suffering gingerbread you.
“Aww!” you smile, having finally caught your breath.
Wordlessly, Zayne retrieves his likeness— pulling it away from yours. You frown at him, as confused and wounded as Xavier apparently imagines you. “Even I have my limits,” the doctor shrugs.
That’s it. You’re gone again, your sides aching as your whole body shakes with laughter. It’s too much. Gods, it’s too much. You’re gonna need another minute.
“I can’t believe you made you.”
It’s been fifteen or so minutes, and you toy with Sylus’s gingerbread counterpart, pinching his hands between your thumbs and forefingers— making him walk (well, penguin waddle) across the kitchen island.
“Believe it, sweetie,” Sylus huffs with a smile.
“Is this really how you see yourself?”
Before you can walk the gingerbread any further, his creator plucks him up by his head, away from your reaching fingers. “It’s how I think you should see me,” he chuckles. He holds the gingerbread out to you. Wiggles it. “For your eyes only, kitten.”
“Except the other guys saw it—”
“Shhhh, shh shh!” In his haste to silence you, he almost pushes the gingerbread to your lips.
You glare at him. Complain from behind it: “Get your shirtless abs out of my face, Sylus.”
“Make me.”
You snatch the gingerbread, pinning it down on the counter. “Keep pushing your luck, Sy. Wanna see what’ll happen?”
He absolutely does, and his eyes glint with mirth as you reach for a near-empty bowl of crimson icing. You scrape some of it up with a discarded teaspoon, then let it drip generously over his gingerbread. It takes a few, long seconds to really cover him in it. To make him look as fatally tragic as gingerbread you.
“Here,” you say, dropping the spoon in a bowl with a satisfied clink. You hold out the gingerbread. “This’ll be you when I’m done with you.”
Sylus regards it for a moment, his eyebrow quirked. Then his eyes find your gingerbread likeness. “Want to see what you’ll look like when I’m done with you?”
His hand goes out for the bowl of red icing, except… it goes past the bowl of red icing, and lands on a tube of white icing instead. He holds it up with a smile.
“Inappropriate.”
The tube is swept out of his fingers, and he blinks at the empty space, legitimately surprised.
“It was snow, doctor,” he remarks bitterly, once he’s recovered from the second ambush of the evening. He glances over his shoulder. “From a snowball fight?”
“Sure it was,” Zayne mutters, already turning back to the bowl he’s washing in the sink.
Sylus is frowning, affronted, but the expression softens when you’re filling his gaze again. You: your hands on your mouth, so close to spilling laughter. “Oooooh,” you tease with a secretive sing-song voice, “you got in trouble!”
He wrinkles his nose like ‘trouble’ is an insult. It sets you off sniggering uncontrollably.
“What did I miss?”
It’s Xavier, back from the lounge.
“Nothing,” Sylus answers.
“He got in trouble!” you counteract with a not-at-all quiet whisper.  
You earn a glare from the criminal, and a little laugh from the hunter. “Third-strike trouble?” the latter enquires. He might have handcuffs on stand-by; it wouldn’t surprise you.
“Not yet,” you grin cheerfully.  
Zayne sets a plate on the drying rack. “Give it time.”
“I don’t think we have enough, sweetie,” Sylus quips, peeking over the stack of blankets you’ve piled high on his arms. 
What was it Rafayel said? High risk, high reward? You mercifully chuckle. Your arms are wrapped around three, plush cushions— the last of your sleepover supplies. Snacks? Are ready. Guests? Haven’t killed each-other yet. You toe open your bedroom door, shouldering the rest of the way through with your missing puzzle pieces of luxury.
“Oh, nice!” someone exclaims from the kitchen. Xavier is watching you, starry-eyed, and his cheeks are full; he’s midway through a cookie.
Sylus steps through the door behind you, issuing a faint noise of disgust. He sounds like he’s being attacked by a bug, so you turn around, ready to leap to the rescue. He’s stood within the door frame, eyes cast upwards to where a sprig of mistletoe hangs on the end of a string. It’s swaying gently; he must have caught his head on it. You frown, lips parted. He was with you the whole time you were looting your bedroom. When did he…? How did he…?
He looks down at you, the mistletoe still hovering above him. You raise an eyebrow, waiting for the inevitable joke, or the even more inevitable invitation. 
“I…’ he starts gingerly, “I didn’t…” 
Oh. He’s just as confused as you are, and it’s… really cute. He’s lost for words— the man who came here with not one, but four sprigs of mistletoe. The man who threatened your gingerbread with white icing. The man who’s spent the entire evening thinking about how he wants to be close to you.
Sylus laughs, but it’s full of nervousness. “It’s alright,” he says, “you don’t have to—”
You tilt him towards you, your hand on his shoulder and cushions around your feet. “Merry Christmas, Sy,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It’s warm on your lips.
His eyes flutter closed. “Merry Christmas,” he breathes, barely more than a whisper. 
You hum contentedly as you pull away from him. When his eyes reopen, they’re warm with a nostalgia you cannot explain, but you can feel, too— so inexplicably. His gaze is blood-red, but it makes you think of flowers. 
What a funny feeling. It strikes you a lot, nowadays, and not just with the man in front of you. 
Speaking of the others, you glance towards your lounge. Xavier is telling Zayne a story, and Rafayel is watching you from over the back of the sofa— turning away when you spot him. That’s one mystery solved. You collect the cushions from the floor, sparing Sylus a smile before you meander back to your party. The coffee table’s a banquet of sweet, sugary snacks, so you carefully skirt past it.
Xavier’s hands grab at air. You laugh and toss him a cushion. “Thanks,” he grins. 
“Here— your favourite.” Zayne is pointing at your freshly-filled mug, and you grin your own thank you as you settle down next to him. 
Sylus soon arrives too, handing out blankets, and for all the evening’s animosity, he gets a grateful smile for each. He sits down next to Xavier, and it’s odd, you know? You’ve slain Wanderers, saved lives with every person around you. You’ve seen them bleed and kill.
They’re all wrapping themselves up, like snuggly little Christmas presents. Xavier’s managed to collect another cushion— from Zayne, maybe?— and he’s practically building a fort on his side of the couch. Some of it infringes on Sylus’s space, and you notice him notice, but he doesn’t say a word. Oblivious, tucked under two blankets, Xavier’s already looking sleepy. 
Someone’s making less of an effort to get comfortable. On the other side of you, Rafayel sits, uncharacteristically quiet. He hasn’t met your eyes since you sat down. You remember him, watching you under the mistletoe from across the room, and the thought has you leaning in closer. 
“That was sweet of you,” you whisper, even though he disobeyed you. 
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he shrugs.
But he does, so you kiss his cheek, ever so fondly, with that funny feeling in your chest again. It’s the first time, but it doesn’t strike you as such. Uncharted waters, a foreign land— when have I been here before?
Rafayel has relaxed: sunken deep into the sofa and the security of your touch. You smile, pulling his blanket up higher around him— tighter around him— until he’s as much of a cocoon as everyone else. His lips curve with a smile of surrender, ever-willingly captured. Silly fish. 
You draw away from him, readjusting in your seat until you’re cuddled up next to Zayne. You don’t see the wink Rafayel shoots Sylus, or the look of begrudging respect in the latter’s red eyes. 
“Are you comfortable?” Zayne asks, head angling towards yours. 
Co-host to co-host. “Yeah.” You snuggle closer to him. “This is kinda perfect, isn’t it?” He feels cold, despite his Sylus-issued blanket, so you lend him part of yours.
“No,” he confers softly, distractedly. 
“No?”
“No.” He gives you a look, and you know it as intimately as the chill of his hands and the warmth of his heart. His ‘I know something that you don’t’ look. Sure enough, he says: “I think it’s missing something.” 
On the other sofa, Xavier is beaming at you, having caught onto your conversation. It’s suspicious— harmless conspiracy, surprise-party sort of suspicious, but your pulse still picks up. 
“Close your eyes,” Zayne instructs. 
And you do, without question. Darkness, yes, but you’re under his care, aren’t you? There’s no anxiousness in your excitement, just trust for the man who was looking out for you long before he was your doctor. Your hands are over your eyes and you’re younger, again, playing hide-and-seek, again.
Zayne’s is a familiarity you can place. A nostalgia built on memories, not reveries.
Something icy touches your hand, then melts without any resistance. 
“Open,” Zayne prompts, leaning against you to stir you. 
Your apartment has changed again. The lights are all out, save for the fairy lights. The spectrum of colours flicker from the walls and the tree, catching on tiny, white specs in the air. Snowflakes are drifting down, impossibly. Falling, dancing— maybe a bit of both. You look up and some land on your face, cold with their kisses. You giggle in delight. 
Everyone’s gaze is on the ceiling: sapphire, emerald, amethyst, ruby. It ought to be dark. Instead, an entire night sky fills the space above you, scattered with thousands of stars. Every pinprick is deliberate. Meticulously placed. There are constellations— infinite patterns that transcend every life you might’ve lead, and every life you’ll ever lead (if you believe in that sort of thing.)
Xavier glances at you, and you forgo the spell of his masterpiece so that you can glance back. Snowflakes are in his hair, dusting him with sparkles. He smiles in a way you think could defy lifetimes, too. 
“This is… really something,” Sylus says, and there’s not a hint of sarcasm. 
It’s everything. The stars, brighter for darkness. The snow, only novel in warmth. These things don’t always work— they’ll undo each-other, overpower each-other, but there’s an ultimate balance, in-between every conflict. An occasional harmony, and it’s… 
Perfect. 
Rafayel scoots close to you. “Was this authorised?” he whispers. 
You look over to the point board, where there are first strikes beneath Zayne and Xavier’s names, and you don’t know how long they’ve been there. 
“No,” you laugh tenderly. “No, it wasn’t.”
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jayktoralldaylong · 1 day ago
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One of my favourite things about Arcane is that all the couples can be read as toxic, which is GREAT.
I'm tired of people bringing morality debates into dark media. Let dark media be fucking dark. You guys wouldn't survive a day in the TMA fandom, needing everyone to be as good as gold. How are they going to make for enjoyable complex characters if they're not morally grey. In fact, I wish there'd been more expansion on just how morally black they can become!
"CaitVi is so toxic" According to lesbian statistics, that sounds just about accurate. 💀 Heck, I wish Caitlyn had done more (Not really, but it would have been nice to further explore the darkness in her heart). Isn't it adorable how she immediately folded as soon as Vi called her cupcake? Caitlyn's like one of those villains that will consistently do the most....until it comes to someone else hurting her girlfriend. The only one allowed to hurt her girlfriend is her. 💀
Then let's talk about Vi. Someone pointed out how Vi never cared about Zaun's independence in the first place and many people yelled that they were wrong. But actually, they were right. Vi never wanted Zaun. Zaun was Silco's dream, and Jinx inherited that dream cause Silco would never shut up about it. Vi wanted Piltover to take responsibility for all the shit they allowed to happen in the Undercity. That's a part of the reason she joined up with Caitlyn in the first place. Let's not forget she wasn't dissuaded when she dragged Jayce down to fight with her and he killed a child. Children been dying, it's been her whole life. Someone needed to do something about it, and Zaun would have just isolated the people from all the privileges that Piltover SHOULD have been providing for them. Some people just can't accept that Independence cannot in fact solve every problem, and sometimes independence is colonisers running away from the responsibility of fixing the mess that they started in the first place.
Besides, we all know Vi joined up with the Enforcers because "I feel like I am worthless if I can't be of service." She'd already run out of family members to serve, Caitlyn was the next best thing. She's just like Jayce.
And speaking of Jayce, let's talk about his violent levels of codependency with anyone who'll give him attention. People LOOOOVE to talk about Mel, but it's there with Viktor too. When bro wasn't basing his worth on his inventions, he was centering it around Viktor.
Viktor who decided at some point in his life that he would not LIVE without Jayce. He was fine dying without him, but living without him was unacceptable. Oh how healthy. 🙄😂 Viktor be the kind of toxic ex to threaten divorce 500 times over, then burn the world when you actually leave him. Jayce is no better cause he's the kind of guy to keep going back to his toxic Ex.
Yes, Mel is manipulative. That's what I love about her. How are you guys failing to give this woman the praise of being an outsider in Piltover, but running their entire council. 💀 Girl raises her hand once and the whole government starts spinning. She was the best sugar mummy Jayce and Viktor could ever ask for. She kept the whole city running. Literally the entire of Piltover dancing on her palm. And yes she manipulated Jayce but let's not forget she thought that was a love language. 💀 You wanna be mad at someone, be mad at Ambessa for raising her that way.
I also don't think it's fair to blame her for the Undercity situation, she's not native. Monkey see, monkey do, and not a single one of those Council members actually cared about the situation down there, it was deplorable. 💀 Jayce did way more in his two weeks as Councillor than any of those drug pushing, money laundering, Piltovian heads of government.
And that just covers MelJayVik, we don't even need to get fully into TimeBomb, cause we know what's wrong there. 💀 Surely we have not forgotten the many teammates Jinx has killed, but making sure to never kill Ekko cause that's her man. Ekko has a lot to unpack, like how his consistent and unwavering love for Jinx is an indication of a lot of doors he might not be ready to open. I know they dynamics go crazy and I love to see it.
Ambessa and Sevika are a crack ship but I'm sure we all know bedroom dynamics go crazy with Mrs. Warlord and Miss Liberation. I love it when characters clash in a toxic heap. It's insane and should be explored.
Quit saintifying my toxic ships with your woke morality debates. If you want everyone to be sunshine and rainbows then you should be watching literally anything else. 💀 "It's not healthy." GOOD, I like it that way. 💀 Angst, spice and trauma are the recipe for a plethora of explorative fanfiction. Any of their dynamics can be taken in any toxic direction and I want that EXPLORED.
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hhbluedynamite · 1 hour ago
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...Oh, dear God...
Do I have some words to say to those people villainizing these characters...
First and foremost, I haven't seen much of Beastars (I think I've only seen the first four episodes), am barely involved in the Sonic franchise, never seen Homestuck, and don't watch...whatever show that lady is in (Doctor Who?), so I can't really say anything for the characters from those shows.
But as for the others...
Mabel: A...CHILD!!! Children are inherently selfish! It makes sense for her to act the way she does (and Dipper's the same way! He's selfish too!). She was also MANIPULATED BY A LITERAL DEMON to give him a very dangerous portal that she had no knowledge of its importance because such knowledge was withheld from her! But what about Dippy Fresh? She's basically replacing Dipper! Mabel didn't make Dippy Fresh! It was Mabelland! And she was also under its influence too! Mabel Pines was a literal child! You are villainizing a kid for being a kid who was scared of change and growing up (something I relate to, honestly)
Rose Quartz/PD: Oh boy...where to start. Before abandoning her old life, Rose was emotionally abused by the very Gems that were basically her sisters/mother! She was belittled, neglected, felt like she had no place there despite wanting to be a part of what was basically the family business. Did Rose make questionable decisions? Oh, yeah. Big time. But, does that make her a bad person? Hell, no. She's just flawed. Which is a very...human thing.
Beatrice: ...Really? People are villainizing her? Have they not played her route? She's frustrated that she's stuck in a small dying town, she lost her mom to cancer like two years before the main story, is basically getting sexually harassed by someone she can't fire, and her dad is kinda neglectful about her needs. I would be bitchy too!
Gangle: ...Are you fucking serious? We're villainizing someone whose dreams were freakin' crushed for being "unrealistic" and spent an entire episode going through mania? The woman whose Digital design is a representation of masking your actual emotions, including depression? And she was told that she was annoying and was better sad?! Who was so, damn close to Abstracting (which can be seen as a euphemism to suicide)??!!!
Did these characters do questionable acts or say things they shouldn't have said? Yes. Does it excuse their behavior? Not really. Does that make them villains? Hell, no. These are flawed characters, like everyone else!
...Sorry for the rant, to the readers and to the person who made this post. I've just seen this a lot with Mabel and Rose Quartz and it pisses me off...and I didn't know that it happened to Bea and now Gangle?!?!?
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I have opinions about the recent gangle hate
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love-byers · 3 days ago
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we all know about the parallel of mike hugging karen when he feels like he's lost will, but i've never seen anyone talk about the other parallels in the s1 and s3 heroes scenes. there are more than you think!
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will's fake body being pulled out of the quarry VS will (+ the others) pulling out of the driveway for california
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a close up of mike looking at both
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mike leaving the scene on his bike after 'losing' will
in one, he has no hesitation. he gets his bike and doesn't look back. not at wills fake dead body, not at el (which would be odd if he knew he was in love with her then...), not at dustin and lucas, not at anyone. he keeps moving forward.
in the other, he is full of hesitation as the other bike away, not looking back. mike stays back and takes one last look at will's house, looking nervous, before hesitantly tearing his eyes away and biking off, trailing behind dustin lucas and max.
do i really need to explain the implications of that....
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mike entering the wheeler house visibly upset after losing will, and karen immediately noticing
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mike seeking out a hug from karen, something he rarely does
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mike hugging karen
note how both clips end with mike moving/sinking deeper into the moment. i'm not sure what the best way to describe this is, but im talking about mike shoving his face into karen's shoulder in the s1 scene and his eyes flicking down in the s3 scene. i know it seems like it doesn't matter, but it does. sprinkling things like that in as a director is purposeful! it's showing how mike is processing the events. in s1 he sinks deeper into karen's comfort, further breaking down because he thinks will is dead. in s3 he doesn't do that. he is extremely still, eyes not moving as he is in shock. then his eyes do move at the last moment, showing he is further processing whatever event has occurred, transitioning from shock to really processing whatever happened.
raw emotion vs icy shock.
and oomf @reo-bylerwagon who is a film major told me that the way the camera tilts upward in the s3 clip is used to show that a realization has occurred, or that something new is being revealed. does that not PERFECTLY line up with:
1. the way mike seems extremely shocked as though he has realized something huge
2. the fact that LITERALLY over that moment is a hopper voice over where he says "to turn back the clock, to make things go back to how they were"
and 3. the way he behaves in s4 (being weird about touching will, rink o mania, etc.)
so yeah, these are definitely parallels through and through and it's really interesting. mike has lost will in both, but in different ways. his reactions say a lot about how he's processing the events and how he views them/his relationships.
also reminder that this is not delusional in the slightest because heroes has only played twice and it's in these two sequences.
and to anyone thinking "well they're just trying to show that mike deeply cares for will, just not in a romantic way!"
......
why in the fresh FUCK would they eat up SO MUCH screen time to show that mike platonically cares about will, rather than use that time to develop his relationship with el and, i don't know, show that he loves her??? why would they feed into will's unrequited love like this??? spoiler alert: THEY AREN'T.
that would be doing WAY too much for a relationship that will end in an amicable split so one can get married and one can get over his deep seeded love for the other and navigate the (extremely homophobic) world alone.
like yall are very clearly not writers or creatives in the slightest 💀💀💀 any writer (or anyone with the faintest creative/analytical bone in their body) will immediately understand why that's fucking dumb and makes no sense. yall are just heteronormative af and instead of admitting that it's greatly affecting your perception of the characters you double and TRIPLE down until you sound like a homophobic disaster
also
season 1 - heroes plays (when mike feels like he lost will)
season 2 - heroes does not play
season 3 - heroes plays (when mike feels like he lost will)
seasons 4 - heroes does not play
season 5 - heroes will play...? perhaps the original david bowie version? and byler will finally kiss as though nothing could fall and the shame will be on the other side? and they can be heroes? just for one day?
so yeah anyways byler endgame
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dorabellingham · 2 days ago
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Christmas tree
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warning: none
characters: jude x reader
summary: where you're going to fix up his house for Christmas, which you are going to spend together
request: yess!
may contain spelling and translation errors!
It was a cold, cloudy morning in the spanish capital, the perfect kind of day to start christmas preparations. You were excited, which was rare when it came to household chores, but decorating the house for christmas for the first time in two years was special. You and Jude were finally ready to transform your home into a real christmas postcard.
—Jude! —You called from the living room, adjusting a huge bag full of decorations you had bought the day before. —We need to start now, or we’ll never finish before Christmas!
Jude appeared in the hallway, his hair still messy from the night’s sleep, but with a smile on his face.
—Calm down, sweetie. You’re already turning this into a Champions League final!
You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave away how excited you were.
—I’m just trying to get the Christmas spirit going, Bellingham.
Jude laughed and walked over to you, hugging you from behind and kissing your shoulder.
—Okay, you’re in charge, boss. Where do we start?
—For the tree, of course!
You replied, pointing to the huge box that was leaning against the wall.
You spent the next few minutes taking out all the parts of the artificial christmas tree. Jude insisted that he could put it together without the manual, while you stood by, clearly skeptical.
—Babe, this is crooked!
You said, watching as he adjusted the top of the tree.
—No, it’s not, it’s your perspective. You’re too short to see it properly.
You snorted, but couldn’t help but laugh.
—Just try not to knock it over, please.
After a lot of laughing and a few failed attempts, the tree was finally standing. You started opening the boxes of decorations and fairy lights, carefully separating everything.
—Okay, now just put this here…
You pulled out the string of lights, but you didn’t expect it to be so long. In seconds, it was completely tangled in fairy lights.
Jude, of course, started laughing.
—Look, you turned into the ornament!
—It’s not funny! Help me, Jude!
He approached, trying to untangle you, but ended up getting even more tangled up. When he realized it, he was also stuck in the lights, and the two of you started laughing uncontrollably.
—This is like something out of a romcom movie.
You said between laughs, trying to get free.
—Well, at least we’re shining!
Jude joked, blinking his eyes as if imitating the lights.
After freeing yourselves, you began to decorate the tree with the ornaments. You were meticulous, trying to create a perfect pattern, while Jude simply hung things wherever he found fun.
—Jude Victor! You put two red balls on the same branch!
You exclaimed, putting your hands on your hips.
—So what? They’re friends, Y/n.
You shook your head, laughing.
—You’re impossible.
Meanwhile, Jude started humming a christmas song, improvising the lyrics hilariously. You couldn't resist and ended up singing along.
When they finished the tree, you took a step back to admire your work.
—Isn't it perfect?
—It is.
Jude replied, but his eyes were on you, not the tree.
—You're not even looking!
—Because the best part of Christmas is right here, huh?!
He said, pulling you close and kissing your forehead.
After that, you moved on to the rest of the decorations. Jude was in charge of hanging the lights outside, which resulted in some complaints from the neighbors due to their height and his noisy antics.
When they were finished, the house was beautiful, with a warm glow that made the atmosphere even more special. You sat on the couch, exhausted but happy.
—You know what's missing?
Jude asked, with a mischievous smile.
—What?
You replied, arranging a pillow next to you.
—My presents.
You laughed, shaking your head.
—Oh, sure. Is that all you think?
—It’s not my fault if I’ve been a good husband all year. I deserve something special.
—You already have the best present in the world: me.
—That’s true...
He said, pretending to agree seriously.
You threw a pillow at him, and the two of you burst out laughing again. As you looked at the tree shining in the living room, you both felt your hearts warm. It was the beginning of a Christmas that would surely be remembered forever.
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tiffany-loves-broadway · 2 days ago
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While I do think that the Watsonian/Doylist distinction is important to keep in mind as a very basic theory-of-fiction-criticism framework thing, I think that there's a very important point missing from this discourse, a point which is often missing from this discourse. (The popular but godawful "Thermian Argument" is emblematic of this framing; it's just more condescending about it.)
Oftentimes, when there are two sides of a discourse, one offering a Watsonian explanation and one offering a Doylist explanation, the side framing their point in a Doylist way is actually incorrect. Not "correct but a stick in the mud about it" - simply wrong. They're prone to assuming that they're correct because they're using the Doylist lens, and they'll try to pattern-match the discourse to "one side is being frivolously charitable to the text, and the other is seriously analyzing it in realistic terms" because that narrative is flattering to them, but it doesn't actually mean that they're right.
If you want to know why a character did something, and Tumblr user #1 says "the text actually already explained why they did that", and provides sensible citations, and Tumblr user #2 says "they were acting out of character because the author was a moron with evil politics and hated his readers" and their case is just kind of incoherent, then Tumblr user #1 is acting as the Watsonian, and Tumblr user #2 is acting as the Doylist, but the former is certainly making a better argument. A correct Doylist explanation here would need to understand what the author even intended to convey on the Watsonian level.
Now, that said, Watsonian explanations that disregard the likelihood that the author actually intended them can certainly be lots of fun; I've spent a lot of time on them just as creative exercises. But I don't think that that means that a Watsonian lens is inherently less respectable than a Doylist one; if anything I think that the lower stakes of the Watsonian lens actually favor it. It takes a Doylist to have something banned as subversive literature.
I feel like we need a refresher on Watsonian vs Doylist perspectives in media analysis. When you have a question about a piece of media - about a potential plot hole or error, about a dubious costuming decision, about a character suddenly acting out of character -
A Watsonian answer is one that positions itself within the fictional world.
A Doylist answer is one that positions itself within the real world.
Meaning: if Watson says something that isn't true, one explanation is that Watson made a mistake. Another explanation is that Sir Arthur Conan Doyle made a mistake.
Watsonian explanations are implicitly charitable. You are implicitly buying into the notion that there is a good in-world reason for what you're seeing on screen or on the page. ("The bunny girls in Final Fantasy wear lingerie all the time because they're from a desert culture!")
Doylist explanations are pragmatic. You are acknowledging that the fiction is shaped by real-world forces, like the creators' personal taste, their biases, the pressures they might be under from managers or editors, or the limits of their expertise. ("The bunny girls in Final Fantasy wear lingerie because somebody thought they'd sell more units that way.")
Watsonian explanations tend to be imaginative but naive. Seeking a Watsonian explanation for a problem within a narrative is inherently pleasure-seeking: you don't want your suspension of disbelief to be broken, and you're willing to put in the leg work to prevent it. Looking for a Watsonian answer can make for a fun game! But it can quickly stray into making excuses for lazy or biased storytelling, or cynical and greedy executives.
Doylist explanations are very often accurate, but they're not much fun. They should supersede efforts to provide a Watsonian explanation where actual harm is being done: "This character is being depicted in a racist way because the creators have a racist bias.'" Or: "The lore changed because management fired all of the writers from last season because they didn't want to pay then residuals."
Doylism also runs the risk of becoming trite, when applied to lower stakes discrepancies. Yes, it's possible that this character acted strangely in this episode because this episode had a different writer, but that isn't interesting, and it terminates conversation.
I think a lot of conversations about media would go a lot more smoothly, and everyone would have a lot more fun, if people were just clearer about whether they are looking to engage in Watsonian or Doylist analysis. How many arguments could be prevented by just saying, "No, Doylist you're probably right, but it's more fun to imagine there's a Watsonian reason for this, so that's what I'm doing." Or, "From a Watsonian POV that explanation makes sense, but I'm going with the Doylist view here because the creator's intentions leave a bad taste in my mouth that I can't ignore."
Idk, just keep those terms in your pocket? And if you start to get mad at somebody for their analysis, take a second to see if what they're saying makes more sense from the other side of the Watsonian/Doylist divide.
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b00tyliciousbabe · 14 hours ago
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⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙
oddballs and eggnog
goofybf! x THICC male reader
summary: love me a nerdy man that’s got a lil spice to him. plus a lil xmas lore!
notes: HI BEAUTIFULS! merry xmas to those who celebrate. it’s been a while fr, my bad dawgs uni work has been ploughing my ass so violently im reconsidering if a degree is even for me. but as a masochistic bottom, i had to channel my energy elsewhere; thus, this fic is just me showing the variety of my tastes as the true indecisive femboy that i am. show me a cute guy and i will plan my whole life with him. i need to get a grip.
originally, i canonically wrote this character with ginger hair (y’all know i fold for redheads), but the more i kept writing, the clearer it became to me that dark brown hair/black aligned with my OWN understanding of him. it’s all fiction anyways so feel free to adapt body types as you see fit. enjoy my lovelies 🎀
album rec: flo - access all areas. these girlies have my heart. been following them since about 2022 and they are genuinely my fave artists, cannot wait for flo world domination.
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you guys had mutual acquaintances for a couple years, but it wasn’t until the two of you got to university that your friendship really blossomed. the engineering student didn’t have the best luck when it came to relationships; in fact, people would only toy with his emotions when they wanted something from him, so he learnt to put up a wall of cynicism.
these barriers he had fortified for his own protection made him quite a reserved guy. never cruel or nasty. just quiet. sure, he wasn’t a complete loner, he had a few VERY close bros who he’d let in, but it was clear that in this silence, he was safe.
he’s super handsy, whether that means pulling you on his lap, be it at parties or when he’s gaming, or placing his hands in your back pocket when y’all walk to class, he just wants to hold you. probably got something to do with the fact that he needs to make sure you’re real and not the angel he believes you to be. you love your needy bf and his craving for physical touch.
this is kinda juxtaposed by how flustered he gets by your words. the minute you whisper in his ear, he could cum in his jeans on the spot. he gets so red when you compliment him which makes him squeeze you tighter.
he wasn’t a virgin before meeting you, he’d had a few hookups but nothing sexual with someone he genuinely cared about. as a result, it made sense why he was very nervous when it came to your first time together.
to relax him, you decided to give him a blowjob to ease the tension and allow him to cum quick in the first round so he’d last longer during anal. sat back on the edge of his bed, he wore a vest and baggy joggers, awaiting your fingers to unleash his raging boner. you knelt down and flashed a comforting smile to him, which he failed to mirror perfectly.
‘we don’t have to do this if you’re not ready to. I’d never force you to do anything you didn’t want to do.’ you said concerned, stroking his abs, clear to you that he was stressing.
‘nah baby, i want this so bad. it’s just gotta be really special because you’re really special to me.’ he said gripping your chin.
‘i love you, y/n. like a lot.’
‘i know that you weirdo, i love you too, you mean so much to me.’
‘now, lemme show you how much.’ you said coyly, to which he was more than happy to oblige.
when i tell you, your man eats so well that his cum is literally like milk. the typa white, thick, pearly cum that you would swallow every drop of, because it truly is just disrespectful not to. the first time he came was a surprise for the two of you. he didn’t realise how much he loved seeing his cum all over your face, decorating your juicy, wet lips. the head you gave him was so good, he napped for 2 hours straight after you drained him. but that deffo changed him for the better.
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his hobbies include boxing and gaming. he’s such a nerd he makes his own demo projects, playing with his classmates. you always chastise him for not making his hobby a lucrative endeavour - your boy’s got a talent and he doesn’t seem to know it. equally, he loves his legos and comics just as much as he enjoys coding, making you the prettiest bouquet of lego flowers for your first date. after spending some time walking, he took you back to his place and y’all spent the entire night binging his favourite marvel and dc films.
one time it was his birthday and you thought it be a good idea to make a short graphic novel of the journey of your relationship - ending steamily with you pregnant.
‘baby, i love this so much! who knew how sexy you’d look with a baby bump?’ ‘anything can happen in the multiverse’ you laugh, as he kissed your jaw.
‘I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight.’
as we have established, he’s far from experienced. he holds your hand through missionary always because it makes him feel safe. makes so many jokes during it as a way to deflect. lowkey loves being choked. you took the lead most of the time before, using him as a pole and ride the shit out of him.
but, that night he ploughed you with a sense of purpose, so deep and mercilessly that your insides were moulded into an incubator for any hypothetical foetus he would soon impregnate you with. after, he laid curled up next to you, caressing the belly that he had now filled with
‘i hate biology sometimes,’ he says breathlessly. ’you’d look so good with our lil baby growing inside your belly.’
your boyfriend is the goofiest mf ever; playing practical jokes on all his friends and fulfilling his role as your comedian. definitely one of your favourite characteristics of his.
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his sleeper build is INSANE. he might appear tall and lanky, but he is far from it. bench pressing more than 100 kilos with one arm - the brudda is basically superman. he’s what you’d get if clark kent had ginger hair, and was a huge weirdo.
though he cannot dance to save his life. he used to be very awkward and shy, but the minute them clothes are off and you two are in the sheets? stroke game is giving pornstar baby girl lemme tell you! ever since your first time, it’s like you awaken the sexual drive in him that’s been missing all his life. this, paired for his complete adoration for you makes him a lethal weapon in bed - quite literally, your man casually packs an 8 inch pussy destroyer with veins that massage and pummel your gummy walls so well.
after this moment he became the BIGGEST TEASE. slapping his dick all over your face. as you chase his dick like a good puppy, he giggles at how desperate you are. ‘sweet Jesus you feel good’. ‘holy shit’. ‘don’t act like you don’t love it.’ painting hickeys all over your neck . he loves when ppl ask you because of how flustered you get, makes him want to mark you more. he’s no longer shy to the world and he thanks you everyday for that. living to call you princess - in both a mocking and endearing tone, he loved toying with your nipples because you’re his lil doll. in cowgirl he will play with them whilst jerking you off to get you to cum all over his abs. and! he LOVES eating ass - like almost obsessively, as if he’s high of your pussy.
he smells so good. so good. you always act like a bitch in heat whenever he steps out of the shower with a towel skimpily wrapped around his adonis belt.
your bf loves playing with his cum and using his dick as a paintbrush to decorate your belly, butt, and face. ‘my masterpiece’ + ‘my muse’ he professes. somehow managing to entrance you to always stroke his dick during makeout sessions. he brings his hands to play with your hair, knowing that his dick is in extremely good hands with you - literally. always pulling you off of his dick because he is really sensitive and ur mouth is a fucking weapon, but will show you that he’s the boss and could leave you bedridden for a couple days after a good fuck.
things he would say drunk off of eggnog:
‘i would die a happy man beneath those beautiful cheeks of yours’
‘put ur hole on my North Pole.’
‘ay, you Don’t get to call me handsome unless you’re gonna HANDsome of those fat cheeks of yours to my lap.’
‘come on, I’ve been a good boy, Santa says gimme some of that pussy you know I love so much.’
‘that ass of yours, come here lemme unwrap it.’
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this man has you written into his destiny. he always dreamed of raising a son and dressing him up in the flyest outfits and with you, that desire became reality. you too truly are a match made in heaven.
⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙
taglist:
@ghostking4m
@gayaristocrat
@lysanderplume
@acoustickitten
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minamorsart · 2 days ago
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Character sheets for an upcoming mini comic!!! Introducing new outfits, including Celeborn ✨
Explanation of design choices below!! Galadriel will not be wielding a sword in the comic, I just wanted to draw her in a cool pose :P
To start, I am definitely not as comfortable with drawing medieval armor/clothing as I am sci-fi, at least not yet! Much research needed! ✊😤 And though I am most certainly still a novice when it comes to character design, I tried to approach this from an animation standpoint and opt for more simplistic designs, as beautiful as the intricate wardrobes are in TROP.
For Sauron, I took inspiration from the armor he is shown wearing in the exposition scene at the beginning of S1E1, as well as his outfit in the S2 finale. He's properly converted back to the dark aesthetic, but hasn't quite reached cape level yet! So instead of a cape I gave him a drapey tunic similar to the red one he wears with his Númenor armor as Halbrand. And the gold accents could be seen as symbolizing his vanity, but at their foundation represent his ties to Galadriel and him coveting her light.
For Galadriel I was inspired by her silver outfit in season 2, as well as Legolas's outfit in The Two Towers. I wanted to bulk her up with the shoulder armor, while still hopefully maintaining her femininity. I'm keeping the silver aesthetic because I think it really suits her, but I also added darker colors to her clothes to indicate that she is being more and more influenced and tempted by the darkness. So we can see that with the golds on Sauron and the dark grays on Galadriel, they are always on each other's minds ;)
Lastly, for Celeborn there was a lot more planning needed for his design! The most important thing was that, purely from a character design standpoint, I didn't want him to look like Sauron. Though Sauron is fair and beautiful, to me he should still have rugged features because of his apprenticeship with Aulë and his skills as a blacksmith. He's a Maia who works with his hands, and I wanted that to come through in his design. This means a more square and sharper face (to hopefully match Charlie Vickers' face shape), tanner skin, and a bulkier build.
In contrast, though I don't know much about Celeborn, I do know that he is a prince, which probably means he doesn't have the need to labor or work with his hands. Therefore I gave him paler skin, longer hair, and a slender build, as well as a longer and pointier face to lean into the Elf aesthetic. I don't want him to look extremely identical to Galadriel, either, so I gave him even blonder hair, almost white compared to her gold. And though I want him to look differently enough from Galadriel so that they don't look like siblings, I'm also fine with them sharing some similar characteristics. This shows that on the surface they would appear to have a lot in common and therefore are perfect for each other, being a prince and princess and all, but of course we know that that is actually a very different story ;)
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bubblegumgothglados · 10 hours ago
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Aftercare should generally involve the opposite of the things a scene involved, it should balance the "negative" physical and psychological impact of the scene.
This is a fairly neat summation and simplification of a very complex and nuanced topic. But it's a good place to start if you're new and don't quite understand the concept of aftercare or if you're experienced and trying a new type of play. It's a simple framework to build upon as you learn more about your individual needs and the needs of your play partner(s).
So what are the physical and psychological impacts of a scene. (Do note we're specifically talking about those impacts we don't want to last past the end of a scene, puppies don't want to be told they're not puppies as aftercare)
I'm not going to separate these because what effects you psychologically is also going to effect you physically and vice versa. These things are not separate.
A good example on the more psychological side might be degradation which damages a submissive's self worth, self image, ego, etc. To balance this aftercare should focus on affirmation and rebuilding /healing those things. Similarly fear play damages a submissive's sense of safety/ wellbeing, aftercare for which should involve being made to feel safe, comfortable with their dominant, and st ease.
Having said that, a good example of this balance on the more physical side is replacing lost energy. Basically no matter what type if play you're engaging in you will burn a lot of energy, so to balance that you should replace that energy. I write about this in much more detail HERE.
Getting a little more complicated; sub drop. Coming 'down' from a submissive headspace, especially one that includes pain play, can be very unpleasant. The neurotransmitters released during a scene fade away, this feels something like the crash after an adrenaline spike, and can leave a submissive feeling lethargic, empty, sad, etc. To balance this aftercare should involve things the submissive enjoys to bring those neurotransmitter levels back up a little and alleviate some of the withdrawal symptoms. This can include but shouldn't be limited to; cuddles, kisses, warm snugly things like blankets and stuffies, their favourite snacks, their favourite movie or TV show, etc
"Top drop" is less a neurological thing and more of a social thing. Although the top headspace also includes it's own share of neurotransmitters which also drop off it's almost always to a much lesser extent. The most common major effect of top drop is guilt; hurting someone you care about is something deeply ingrained as bad and even if they like it, even if they're begging for it, it can still effect you really deeply. Aftercare for this should involve affirmation that the bottom isn't hurt beyond what they want to be, that they still care about and trust their dom, etc.
This is an infinitely nuanced topic, I could write until the character limit and still not cover all the ways that aftercare could go. But I have to draw a line in the sand somewhere so let me make one final point. Don't worry too much about getting this perfectly right the first few times, you'll figure out what you need and what your play partner(s) need. The most important part is the "care" half of "aftercare" show them you're willing yo put in the effort to make sure they're OK and you can't go to wrong
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tanadrin · 3 days ago
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There's this big gripe I have with a lot of television shows that are dramas, which is that they take the formal elements of modern prestige television--very good cast, high-quality cinematography, terrific music, often even a pretty interesting premise--and just fall completely flat-footed on the execution, because the plot has the structure of a floppy spaghetti noodle.
Plot can be just one damn thing after another, but in general this is not a satisfying way to approach plot. Satisfying plots usually have some kind of structure, build logically to some kind of climax (or even series of climaxes, in serial formats like television), often leveraging diverse dramatic techniques so that even if the plot temporarily veers off into some cul-de-sac or subplot, you feel like the overall momentum of the story is moving forward, is coming to some conclusion. In short, you feel like there is a reason for you to be watching this story in particular, that it has some weight or consequence for its characters, that each sub-element of the overall plot, each chapter or episode or what have you, is in retrospect a necessary element in the story the creator wants to tell, and the audience wants to watch.
(Obviously, for more episodic structures, which a lot of perfectly great TV shows have, the rules are different, because the plot of each episode is partially or wholly discrete; but a key element of modern prestige TV is a serial and not episodic format. I don't know why this is exactly, but I assume it has something to do with the long shadow of The Sopranos and the notion that episodic formats are for cheesy sitcoms or cheap science fiction.)
But almost every prestige drama and quite a few other shows I have tried to watch in like the past--I dunno. Ten years? Maybe not that long, but it sure feels that long--has the floppy spaghetti plot problem. The plot really is just One Damn Thing After Another, usually fuelled by characters having to hand off the Emotional Idiot Ball to one another to generate conflict. Hell, one reason Game of Thrones stood out was that it wasn't this: for all I have ragged on George R.R. Martin, I think he has some notion of structure, and though in a long-running book series you can let that structure expand and breathe, the parts of the show that followed the plot he laid out in advance benefitted strongly from having that structure to guide them. Most showrunners these days seem to think only as far ahead as the next episode, and boy, it shows!
I'm not saying all writers need to be J. Michael Straczynski, and plot their shows out five seasons in advance with multiple escape hatches for various characters in case their actor has to leave the show, but I do think I haven't seen a well-structured serial drama television show since around the time of The Wire. And this lack-of-structure problem has even infected a lot of episodic, decidedly non-prestige TV shows that have tried to incorporate overarching plots into their seasons, which I think is in part due to the idea that serial storytelling is somehow, I dunno... like More Serious Television? Anyway, I wish it would stop. I wish writers and showrunners would care more about structure!
(There's also a related problem where a show will start out with some interesting premise or concept, and abandon it like three episodes in to focus on side plots, despite the premise being the whole draw of the show.)
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st6rly · 1 day ago
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❛ love me like how only you do. ❜
synopsis :   through every universe, every cycle of rebirth, he will always find you. in which kazuha loves all versions of you; in every timeline, every universe, every breath or non-breath he takes.   ╱   word count :   1.7k
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characters :   kazuha x gn!reader
categories :   fluff. mild angst. yearning. royalty au. country x city trope. hospital au. modern au. apocalypse & post-apocalypse aus. idol au. inanimate object / nature au?? lot's of aus. 8 + 1 fic.
warnings :  rusty writing (it's been a hot minute my bad-). brief major character deaths. mention of blood / injury / violence / drowning. illness in characters + family members. fire. zombies. mentions / vague descriptions of death in general.
dedicated to :   @yuomizuu, from your stellaronhvnter secret santa :3c when i saw kazuha on your list, i jumped for joy; he’s one of my top genshin characters & im so happy to have an excuse to write for him! // playlist i was listening to while writing // art by @.mayu_mey on twt
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In one universe, Kazuha bumps into you on the street. 
Bundles of scrolls and parchment spill from your arms, delicate writing muddied with dirt as the commotion on the street barely comes to a halt. Onlookers scowl and grumble, moving past without a second thought as you scramble to collect your things from the footpath, movements hastened by the spear-tips aiming your way. 
Cape a deep crimson with delicate fur trim, the Kaedehara family crest is embroidered on the back in gold thread. Kazuha always thought it was unnecessary to flaunt his status, preferring respect of the family name over awe of his wealth. But being a gift from a dear friend, he wears it more often than not. In cases like these, he wishes he hadn’t. Your eyes catch the glint of his garments, and you freeze, petrified.  
Lowering to a crouch, Kazuha waves away his guards with dimmissive hand, gloved hands working to collect fallen sheets. 
“Are you alright?” he asks, voice kind and with a smile. He holds out a scroll for you to take back. Your fingers brush his. 
“Yes…” you mutter back, somewhat sheepish. You quickly rise to your feet and offer him a bow. “My apologies, Your Highness.” 
“No need for it.” 
He offers to walk you to your destination. You decline. He insists. The two of you both make it to the library in quick succession, the others on the road making way the minute the red of his cape is seen. 
“This is quite unnecessary, Your Highness.” Kazuha looks over at you. You smile when he meets your eyes. “It was I who bumped into you. There was no need to escort me back.”
“Ah, but I wanted to.” 
It’s when you’re inside, the door closed behind you, that Kazuha stops to stare at where you’d once stood. His cheeks are rosy with warmth.  
“Are you alright, Your Highness?” one of the guards prods, hesitant. “You seem a bit… flushed.” 
“I’m more than alright.” 
The kingdom falls before he can see you again. 
Flames engulf houses and shops; fire starved and ravenous, it becomes a glutton as it licks up the side of the library. His horse whinnies and backs away when the heat gets to be too much, but Kazuha can’t seem to pull himself away from the sight. He needs to leave. He needs to leave. Run. Run. Run. Run—
Some part of him hopes you made it out unscathed, heart heavy as the shouts of enemy troops chase after him. You would’ve liked the palace archives, he thinks, salt trailing down ash-stained cheeks as the ruins disappear in the distance. 
In one universe, you’ve just moved from the city to the countryside. 
As your new neighbour, Kazuha took it upon himself to welcome you. The rest of the area had heard about your reasonings: a relative of yours who owned the house you’d be staying in has fallen ill. You’re here to keep things in order while they receive treatment. 
Basket full of fresh fruit from his own farm, he stands outside your door with a nervous frown. His heart beats erratically in his chest, pulse ricocheting off the bones of his ribs. It’s never like him to be so jittery when greeting others. Readjusting his grip, Kazuha sucks in a breath and knocks. 
You shout back, “Just a sec!” 
There’s a brief moment where Kazuha debates leaving, dropping the basket and running. He digs his heels into the ground. The door opens with a click. You smile and— 
Oh. 
He’s been here before, hasn't he? 
Cheeks turning a soft pink, he grins back, holding out the basket. 
“A little welcome gift,” he says, “from your new neighbour.” 
You take the basket from him; your fingers don’t touch his. Is it weird that he wishes they did? Kazuha comes back the next day, handing you a bunch of mail and a package. You invite him to stay this time. 
Kazuha swears he’s seen you before, that you moving wasn’t a coincidence judging by the butterflies that eat at his stomach lining. Whatever it is, you don’t remember him like how he thinks of you. 
You return to the city months later, leaving the confession on the tip of his tongue. 
In one universe, you are the wind that greets him every morning. 
The hospital room is stuffy, void of colour except for the stack of “Get well soon!” cards and deflating balloons shoved by his bedside. He misses the farm, he decides, the vast openness of the trees and fields. The smell of medicine had stung his nose at first; now it’s barely there. Kazuha stares out at the sunrise, smiling to himself when a familiar breeze slips through the crack of his window. Bathed in gold with the sun speckled in his hair, he strains an arm and grasps onto a well-loved notepad and pen. 
“One day,” he murmurs, voice airy as he jots down the date, “I’ll be out there too.” 
In one universe, you’re a birdhouse and he’s the bird. 
The seeds are kept well stocked; the shelter you provide is always dry. You both get swept away in a windstorm. 
In one universe, he is a star. 
Rubble and debris from what were once towering builds block any type of path you may have been able to venture. Despite the lack of them, the stench of walking death still permeates the air.  
“Shouldn’t have taken that shortcut,” you mumble, grunting when your foot catches on another root. 
The trees grow thicker and you swear you’ve passed this part of the woods already. You grumble a string of profanities, plopping down to the forest floor and leaning against the bark. You look up. 
“You’re here at least.” The words are soft, much too gentle for the atmosphere. Kazuha doesn’t respond. Can’t respond. “You’d scold me for scavenging this late. I know it.” 
The star grows brighter, as if laughing. 
— 
In one universe, Kazuha’s flesh can be tasted on your tongue. 
Tied up in the corner, your arms pinned behind your back, he sits about two metres away in front of you on a broken crate. The gun lays loaded in his lap. Eyes closed with his head down, fingers resting on the cool metal, Kazuha’s lips stretch into a thin line. 
“It’s not right,” he mutters, mainly to himself as you thrash in the corner, desperate to reach him. “It’s not my right to rob you of life.” 
You snarl in response. Eyes bloodshot and crazed, he wonders if you can still understand him. Would you plead for him to shoot you? Would you beg to be spared? Could he bear to do either? He’s going to be sick. 
“It’s not right,” he repeats, shaky hands curling in his lap. “It’s you and me. We haven’t come all this way just to end.” 
The world has taken enough from him. Kazuha refuses to let it take you too; not without him.  
He stands in front of you. The gun lays off to the side. 
Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice screams at him not to fold. They wouldn’t want this, it wails, clawing at the walls of his skull. Another tells him, Do it. And so Kazuha undoes your binds, kisses you, smiles tearfully when your nails claw into his skin. Blood runs down his back, stains his tattered clothing. He hugs you. Your jaws clamp down on the junction of his neck and shoulder. His nose brushes against your jaw. 
“It’s ok,” he whispers to ears that cannot hear reason, hold tightening, “we’ll be ok.” 
In one universe, you two never meet. Not face-to-face at least. 
Kazuha smiles at the camera, holding up a peace-sign, before the view switches to another member on stage. The clip goes viral very shortly after its creation. You come across it one day. 
“An idol, huh…” you mutter. 
 You scroll away. 
— 
In one universe, he’s stuck behind a screen, a watcher to your world as you go through the motions of life. 
Fate isn’t his, but he can’t seem to mind. When his splash art first coloured your screen, when he first witnessed that giddy look in your eyes, Kazuha knew he was smitten. 
Even if you ult at the wrong times, run out of stamina in the middle of climbing, skip dialogue, Kazuha is there beside you. For every beginning, end, every plotline in between, he’s a staple of your team. 
One day, you stop logging in. It was gradual at first; daily tasks, some resin here and there, you’d skip a day then come back the next. A day turned into two. Then three. A week. A month. Kazuha still waits. It’s funny how his world comes to a standstill when you do. He hopes you’re doing well. 
In one universe, he is a leaf and you are a river cutting through the forest. 
He drowns in your embrace, waterlogged and swept away as you carry him down stream. If he had a conscience, Kazuha would do it again. 
In this universe, it’s finally Kazuha and you. (There is no need to say he loves you when his name is already beside yours.)
Kazuha watches as you pack up your things. He stands from his spot next to you, bag slung over his shoulder as he waits. Other students are already leaving the lecture hall, milling about as he admires you from this short distance. 
In this universe, it’s been Kazuha and you since birth. Friends since forever, it surprised no one when both of you confessed. It would be nice if every universe were like this. 
“You’re staring.” 
He blinks, hand finding yours automatically. You squeeze back. 
“It’s hard not to when you look like that,” he teases back. 
“C’mon, the winter festival is starting soon.” You roll your eyes. 
Foot catching on the chair, Kazuha steadies you before your books can fall out of your hands, giggling when you’re quick to apologize. 
“I had a weird dream last night,” he blurts out once you’re back to standing. 
“About me falling?” 
“More than that.” He traces your skin with his thumb, lost in thought before speaking again. “I’ll walk you back to your dorm. Drop off your stuff and all.” 
“Nah, I can just meet up with you.” 
Would it be nice if every universe were like this? That’s silly, he thinks with a smile. No world could make me love you less. 
“I insist.” 
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notes :  inspired by multiverse concepts, including “everything, everywhere, all at once,” arcane, the "do you think we're together in every universe?" trend, and this one poem i read that i can’t remember. this ended up being shorter than i thought it would be, but there are a lot of parallels between scenes and such so i hope those were caught! apologies if the prose doesn't flow too well TwT
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letskilltimetogether · 2 days ago
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I’m glad I haven’t accidentally spoiled anything- I don’t think I’ve said much past Treasure Island. Are you excited for the season in Jan? I’m very excited to see how they translate it, and what they cut/add.
I’m a little nervous bc I heard this is the final season they’re making, but there’s a lot more arcs ahead, so idk if they’re going to rush it or just cut it off or what.
Spoilers for all of Anime, as well as vague descriptions of later arcs
I def agree, Senkuu is the best leader shown in Dr. Stone and he does work well bc he’s science focused and most of civilization is also science focused. (Trying to avoid spoilers) Later in the story they encounter a group of people who directly oppose most of their values, a have to work with them. About here is when I would exchange Senkuu’s leadership with the 5 Generals, as things become more complicated.
It would be very funny to have an episode where Senkuu has to drop all the science and craft a legal system lmao.
I agree that Hyoga fighting Moz instead of Senkuu is evidence Hyoga supports women(idk that sentence is so funny. Hyoga supports women’s rights and women’s wrongs). To delve into more character stuff, I think this moment could also be tied to Hyoga’s interest in “incredible people.” He wanted to keep most people in stone and only revive petrified people who possess extraordinary skills, to create like a super powerful human race. In this situation, it’s either help Senkuu, who he says himself is on his level, or Moz, a strong enough guy but lacking awareness and also hates women. Hyoga chooses to help Senkuu as 1. He has that interest in Senkuu, and 2. Disagrees with Moz, thinking he is not an “incredible person.”
I totally agree with you, I just wanted to delve into his character, which I rarely get to do bc I don’t like him lol.
It’s totally cool that you’re an anime only watcher! I myself have read all the manga because I hyperfixated and needed to know what happened next IMMEDIATELY lmao. I actually prefer watching the anime, as having the characters audibly read their lines lets me focus more on the art and story beats, which is harder while reading. I’ll do my best to avoid manga spoilers!
For my next question… Who is your favorite character and why? Doesn’t have to be a complex reason, it could just be a feeling.
*eats a chip and hands both back to you*
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Your honor they're homosexuals
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s0ckh3adstudios · 1 day ago
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I REALLY need to stop drawing for now because doing so is inconvenient and uncomfortable but I really wanted to get some stuff out for this AU because I have MANY ideas for it- So!!!!! Here's my take on an ISAT roleswap!!
This is Time Spent Among Stars (TSAS)! I've been brainstorming a lot for it during the past couple of days. If you know me, you know how I go about swap AU's. I try to make things as logical and faithful to both the characters and the universe and the original story as a whole.
When it comes to a roleswap for ISAT, I find it to be a very particular task. This is because ISAT happens for very specific reasons that all stem from Siffrin and the current circumstances he's in. So, go for a roleswap where the circumstances are a bit different. But I also don't want to retread on the story ISAT already told. By that I mean, for example, Twinkle is NOT Bonnie. I wonder who they could be? Alongside this is the fact that is not neccessarily a story about Bonnie needing to learn to talk about feelings or whatever with the fact that they want to stay with the party longer. That is NOT their issue to tackle, that is Siffrin's.
There's also the whole star theme. I always kind of dislike when swap AU's still include star theming and a star Loop equivalent because stars are SIFFRIN'S THING. Now you may be confused. because. hey Sock. you did that with this AU? YES. YES I DID. BUT I FOUND A WAY TO STILL CONNECT IT BACK TO BONNIE REASONABLY AND GAVE THIS AU A REASON TO STILL HAVE ITS CONNECTION TO STARS AND THE COUNTRY AND WHATNOT. GUYS I GOT IT UNDER CONTROL. AND THERE IS A REASON TWINKLE IS A STAR CHARACTER.
That's not enough preamble though- I'll put this under the cut, here's my more specific thoughts on some things and the swaps!
Bonnie is the Traveler (The Runaway)
A little kid living on the streets of Bambouche. They had washed up on shore in another town where they were tossed around foster families. They eventually ran away as none of these homes felt like theirs. They didn’t have many memories and didn’t want their memories to be with these people. Similarly to canon, after Bambouche was frozen by the curse, Bonnie ran and ran and ran from the town to the brink of exhaustion before being found by the party. When Bonnie was younger, Petronille ran away from home with them. They came from an abusive home. The night was stormy and yet Nille decided to escape by boat. They got close to country which was actively being forgotten. Nille fell from the boat, injured, but young Bonnie was fine and their boat wasn’t close enough to join. They would float back to Vaugarde with tampered memories.
Isabeau is the Housemaiden (The Missionary)
When he first went to his local House of Change, he was so inspired and interested in it all that he decided to stay and join the House. He does a lot of mission work, going around Vaugarde to teach the Change belief and whatnot.
Mirabelle is the Fighter (The Warrior)
She felt betrayed and confused and broken after Euphrasie betrayed everyone and did this to Vaugarde. She questioned everything. But she knew there was no time for that. She had to save her country. She felt obligated. She was still blessed by Euphrasie, an action done in the hope that Mirabelle would stay with her and watch the worlds perfection be frozen in time. She reufsed. She became more of a fighter after leaving on her journey, growing much more stressed and a little more on edge. She often doesn’t know her strength.
Siffrin is the Researcher (The Archivist) 
He made a different choice. Instead of letting their hazy baggage hold them back, they wanted answers. If they could never fit in here, he would figure out where he came from and why. He’s spent much of his new life in Vaugarde researching both Vaugarde itself and the mysterious tale of the country he believes they come from. They’re a little quieter and more stern and factual here, but they’re still loveable punny Sif.
Odile is the Chef (The Kid)
A talented chef who takes “too many cooks in the kitchen” to heart and often flew solo. Here she’s more interested in the recipes and food culture of Vaugarde. Instead of a familytale, she’s looking for something else- A book that is like a familytale but for family recipes. Recipes for meals or baked goods can tell you a lot about a family and their history. It’s unique to them. You can tell a lot from them by them if you know how to look. She never had these sorts of meals or recipe books back home. Not one genre of food she could resonate with personally because of her divide between Ka Bue and Vaugarde.
Euphrasie as the King (The Housemaiden}
Claude, her dearest, was killed in an accident regarding one of her creations. It broke her. It got Euphrasie rethinking everything. She didn’t want things to change anymore. She loved how things were. She didn’t want Mirabelle to change, she was happy. She didn’t want Rorey to change, he was doing so much better than when she first met him. She broke down. She wanted the entirety of Vaugarde to stay in this same peaceful happy moment. Not to mention now understanding the terror of the idea of losing her country like Rorey (The King) did.
A lot of other details are relatively the same because these are still the same characters, they’ve just gone through some different circumstances that put them in different roles. Mirabelle is still “the chosen one” and gathers the party. Isabeau is still second to be recruited. Siffrin still doesn’t talk about his feelings (but will have a friend quest where Bonnie helps them with that). Odile, like how she wouldn’t say what she was researching, now won’t tell them what kind of chef she is. Bonnie still isn’t allowed to fight. Etc etc etc.
A lot of these are still concepts and are subject to change but I would love to answer questions and doodle some more when I'm not tired LMAO. Merry Christmas Eve, may Time Spent Among Stars woe be upon ye!
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ladyeyrewrites · 2 days ago
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The last fifteen months have been a mostly downhill rollercoaster. I was made redundant at my job in September 2023 and my old employer did want to pay out all my entitlements so I had to take them to the Fair Work Commission in order to get paid.
While that was happening, I started getting severe abdominal pain that turned out to be rather large ovarian cysts. I ended up needing to get surgery.
A week before my surgery, my grandfather died, which stirred up a lot of complicated emotions. He was an incredibly difficult man and by the end of his life, dementia had undone all the hard work he'd put into becoming the kind and compassionate grandfather I'd always known, transforming him into a harsh, nasty person who was very difficult to be around. But when my mom called to tell me he probably wouldn't last a week, there was still a part of me that wanted to cancel my surgery and fly back to the US to be there, severe abdominal pain and all.
I slipped into a depressive state post surgery. Understandably so. Between my grandfather's death, my continued abdominal pain and an entirely fruitless job hunt, there wasn't an awful lot going on in my life. Which is when I found 9-1-1.
I became absolutely fixated on the show and its characters, especially after bucktommy, and for the first time in a decade, I delved into the fandom.
At first, I just lurked, happy to read fanfic and write some just for my own enjoyment. And then the hiatus happened and the attacks on bucktommy fans got worse and I wanted to be part of the positivity so I started posting my fics.
I won't say that the bucktommy cured my depression (getting a new job, finally probably had more to do with that), but all those positive interactions and getting back into a regular writing habit certainly helped lift my mood and lit the way back to a stable place. And I am so grateful for the community that's sprung up around this ship.
Thank you so much to everyone who's been part of making this fandom a kind, joyful, and positive space. I love you all and I look forward to continuing to obsess over this pairing with you some more in the new year.
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